#gotta air tumblr hq out

[piracytheorist]

Macabre Theme and Variations (12/15)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 6.6k for this chapter | 55k so far | 65k in total Rating: T Warnings: Non-permanent character deaths, graphic violence

Summary: Twilight wakes up. He works on his mission. He dies. He comes back and does it all over again. Each time a little different. (Inspired by the film Happy Death Day)

AO3 Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

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Chapter 12: Da Capo al Coda pt.1

da capo al coda = from the beginning to the coda (= a passage that brings a piece of music to an end)

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Borf!

Loid vaults up on his bed, mouth wide open as his brain goes into overdrive.

It all makes sense. It took fourteen times overall to get everything out of Desmond, but the pieces are all coming together now.

He jumps up and runs to the corridor, stopping Yor from colliding with the wall just in time. She looks at him with her eyes half-closed and it takes all his discipline to not lift her up and spin her around, to not kiss her right there and then.

“Careful, the wall,” he says, his voice coloured by the wide smile on his face.

He runs back into his room, spending almost the entire next hour sending all the intel he has collected about Desmond's plans to HQ. It’s quite the list. They’ll no wonder ask where the hell he got all that information from in one single day. Considering the weight and mass of information, the Handler will pester him with questions about that, and whether she should worry about him being compromised. He might eventually have to come clean to her about the time loop so that she’ll vouch for him.

However, the focus today has to be on a different matter.

Tonight Pollux – and only Pollux – dies.

Twilight is putting an end to the loop, which means he has to treat today as any other day. He starts working out on the time he has left, but his thoughts keep going back to what he’s accomplished in the last fourteen repetitions.

He’s gathered enough to not only sabotage Desmond’s plans, but to also infiltrate meetings where future plans – and altered ones, since a lot of them will be cancelled after they’ve been thwarted – will be discussed.

He now knows exactly how to behave and what moves to make without ever raising a single suspicion.

Operation Strix is far from complete. However, with such knowledge attained, his standing as Loid Forger can continue for a much longer time than anticipated.

He can stay with them.

A laugh bubbles up his throat and he runs into Anya’s room.

Unable to stop himself, he picks her up in his arms.

“Anya! Anya, wake up!”

She stirs, struggling to open her eyes. She looks at him and yawns. “Papa?”

He yawns back and blinks the sleepiness from his eyes. He lifts her up in the air. “You just helped me almost complete Operation Strix!” he says in a low but delighted voice. “You were amazing!”

Her eyes narrow in confusion. She’s still too sleepy, but he cannot contain his excitement.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. I know about you, and I’m not giving you away. We can stay together.” He brings her closer to him, hugging her tight. “I love you.”

I know it’s confusing, but you gotta trust me on this, Agent Starlight. I will explain everything and you can rest assured I’ll do my best to keep this family together. I love you. I love you.

Anya finally wraps her arms around his neck, a sob shaking her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he asks, softly.

“How… how do you know?”

To his great relief, she doesn’t sound scared anymore.

“You don’t remember this, but you told me yourself. You’ve been helping me with Desmond – the bad boss – and I’ll tell you all about it when it’s time. For now I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Anya can stay?” she says, voice mixing with a smile and a sob.

“Anya can stay. And Papa can stay.” He starts rubbing soft circles on her back.

He can have that.

He can stay.

It will require some work, of course. Confessing to Yor about his identity and how he accidentally found out about hers, trying to convince her about his feelings, balancing things with Yuri…

Maintaining a happy family is not easy, but he’s happy to realize it’s worth it.

Even if his efforts lead to nothing.

“I’m sorry I woke you up, I just couldn’t restrain myself.” He looks at the clock. Six thirty, so not a lot of time left. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Anya shakes her head against his shoulder.

Some ice cream and the Spy Wars we have on tape?

“Yes!” she says, jumping back.

He sits next to her on the sofa, calmly observing her as she digs into her ice cream bowl, eyes stuck on the TV.

He allows himself to relax, slowly going through the days of the loop in his head. Learning about Anya, learning about Yor—

“So you know Mama is the Throne Princess, but she doesn’t know you know,” Anya whispers.

“The Thorn Princess, yes,” he says, but his mouth freezes open at the sight of Anya's suddenly horrified face.

Oh, no. Oh, NO.

What time is it?! It’s too early! Is she awake already?! We only whispered! How did she hear?!

The handle on Yor’s door moves slowly, carefully.

His throat goes dry at the realization of his mistake. He grew too accustomed to open honesty with Anya, he let his guard too down and errors emerged.

His heart is beating like a drum inside his chest. He looks at the corridor as if he’s watching a horror film, a feeling exacerbated by the creaking sound the door makes as it opens.

“Mama, no!” Anya says and jumps to stand in front of him.

Yor appears. Even from the distance he can see the shadows that cover her eyes. Her fingers are tight in a claw-like shape.

“Mama, don’t! It’s my fault!”

Loid swallows hard. His hands tense, automatically inching for anything to use as a weapon, at least to defend himself.

Instead, he raises them. “I—” he starts, voice shaking. “I won't report you, but I beg of you, let me go for today.” He's panting. “If you want to report me tomorrow – or if you even want to kill me, I'll understand. But it's of utmost importance I do what I need to do today.”

“Who are you?” Yor says in a voice that chills his blood. She starts walking and he cringes, fighting the urge to attack first before she lands any hit on him, but she only pulls Anya behind her. “Who are you?!”

“Mama, he’s a good guy,” Anya tries.

“Hush, Anya.” Her body is still like marble, but her face is burning in anger.

“Look, I already know, alright?” he starts, then swallows again. “I could have already reported you, but I haven’t. And I’m not going to. All I ask is for a chance to explain myself, and just—just implore you to wait today out. Let today go and tomorrow you can do whatever you want. Report me, kill me, take Anya away… just leave today in my hands, alright?”

“How do you know?” she seethes at him.

He clamps his mouth shut. She deserves an explanation, but…

“I told him,” Anya said.

Yor turns to her. “Told him what?” she snaps.

Anya shrinks under the gaze. “I can read your mind.”

All rage washes away from Yor’s face. Her eyes widen back to their usual size. She looks at Loid with a lost expression. “What?”

He slowly lowers his arms. “Yeah,” he says with an awkward smile. “We got a mind reader in the bunch.”

Yor looks away, shakes her head in confusion then turns back at him. “Did you know? Is she—wait, if you knew, but you didn’t report me—are you a spy?!”

Damn it.

He drops his arms completely and sighs. Better let it out at once. “Anya is not my biological daughter. I only adopted her a few days before you and I met. I didn’t know she can read minds until a few d—well, I guess yesterday, in a sense.”

Her eyebrows nearly stitch together. “What?!” she breathes.

“I know. It was as much of a shock to me as it is to you now.”

 Suddenly Anya starts sobbing, catching their attention.

Loid’s arms itch to reach for her and comfort her; but to Yor’s knowledge, this is usually her job.

Yor takes a few deep breaths, but eventually leans down and picks Anya up in her arms. She turns to glare at him. “Give me one reason, just one good reason, to not walk away right now and call the police on you.”

“No, Mama…” Anya says weakly.

“Hush.”

He clenches his hands into fists. “Because if you do, and I lose the advantage I currently have, a man will find me wherever the secret police will be keeping me and blow me up with a bomb. Then the day will reset, I will come back alive and you will have forgotten everything that just happened.”

She looks at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Papa’s been trapped in a time pool,” Anya says. “He lives the same day again and again.”

He looks at the clock. 06:47. “Look,” he says, turning on the radio. He recites the announcement, not only word-for-word, but with the same tonality as the announcer’s voice. The more he says, the more Yor’s eyes widen.

He rests his hand on the cabinet the radio is placed on. “I can recite the entire day’s news reports. Not because I have people inside the radio stations – because I can do that – but because this is the damned twenty-fourth time I live through this day. Every day – except for two times – I go to the theater for Anya’s performance. Both when I am there and when I’m not, a certain man who is strapped with explosives finds me, approaches me, and blows himself up with me. I only see the flash of the explosion and then I wake up in my bed, living through the same thing all over again.”

“Since when?” Yor asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Is this the only day that’s being repeated for you?”

“Yes. I don’t know why, or how. I doubted it myself, a lot. But after the third time I had no choice but to accept it was happening.”

“And you die? Every single time?” Her grip on Anya tightens.

He nods.

“And what about us? Do we also die?”

He clenches his jaw. “A few times you died too, yes. But you’ve always come back, not remembering anything.”

“And how do you stop it?”

“I’m not sure. My only guess is that if I catch my killer and survive, then the time will continue as it should.”

She is silent for a moment, looking away in thought.

Anya’s eyes perk up in interest, and suddenly Yor remembers what she was just told. “Anya? Are you reading my mind right now?”

Anya’s mouth cringes in a straight line.

“You knew who I was?! You knew about my real job?!”

She nods.

“How? Weren’t you scared? Why did you let me come here?”

“Yor…” Loid says softly. “Anya chose you.”

She turns to him. “What?” Back to Anya. “You chose me? Why?”

“Because you were cool, Mama.” Anya’s voice is small again.

“Cool,” Yor says and almost sobs. “Anya… No. I—I didn’t want you to know…”

“I know. But I’m not scared. I know you can protect me.”

Loid and Yor look at her for a moment, and for the first time Loid realizes that among the things Anya admired about them both from the beginning was how capable they’d be of protecting her.

She was just a little girl, wanting a family to love her and protect her from the evils this world could unleash upon her, if her powers were ever discovered.

Yor rubs Anya’s arm softly, then her face hardens when she turns to him.

He swallows hard again. He might actually be developing a stomachache by this point.

“Mama, don’t hurt him,” Anya pleads. “He cares for us.”

“Did he tell you who he was?” Yor says, turning to her. “Or did he just pretend to be a normal man and you knew everything only by reading his mind?”

Anya is silent.

Yor looks at him. “So you lied to her,” she tells him.

“I knew the truth!” Anya tries.

“It doesn’t matter, Anya,” Loid says. “I still chose to lie to you.”

“You adopted her for your job? You agreed to marry me for your job?”

A ton of excuses fly through his mind, but he rejects them all. Every single one of them have been trained into him with the purpose of manipulating situations and people so he’d get the optimal benefit for his missions.

Right now, he only wants Yor to know the truth.

“Yes.”

A few silent seconds pass until Yor speaks again. “And what are you going to do now? If you make time go normally again, and I wake up tomorrow remembering everything, what are you going to do?”

His breath catches at his throat as he feels his cheeks flush.

I want to try to convince you to give me another chance. Or a chance, as the case may be.

“I… I still have a job to do, but…”

“But then you’re going to leave.”

“No,” he says, trying to silence the voice in his head. “I want to stay here. With Anya, with you…”

Shut up, you’re sounding desperate. And ridiculous.

Yor’s eyes widen in disgust. She opens her mouth to say something, but then the radio chimes the hour.

“Right,” he says breathlessly. “I’m going to make us some breakfast.”

“Can't I play hooky today?” Anya says.

He shakes his head, adding a vocal “No,” as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“But there was a day that you took me out! You bought me so much ice cream! I had fun!”

The image of her beaming face that day comes to his mind.

She grunts. “I had so much fun!”

He closes his eyes.

Anya... stop.

“If I'm really meant to break the loop today, I need to minimize the consequences. I have to make sure there won't be a risk of another Tonitrus Bolt for you.”

Yor looks at him astonished. “Are you just going to play family man like nothing just happened?”

He shrugs, the now familiar feeling of defeat edging up in the corner. “I think whatever you want to clear out with me, it would be better to discuss while Anya isn’t here. I’ll make breakfast, she’ll go to school, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Or at least, enough to not put you in any danger.”

Over the past repeated days, he’s seen many versions of Yor. He’s seen her excited, happy, patient, sad, scared, determined, enamoured…

This is the first time that he sees her angry.

She’s controlling herself, however. She calls in sick at city hall, then sits patiently at the table and eats without commenting.

“Mama,” Anya starts. “Papa is—”

“No, Anya. I understand you care for him, but I don’t want to hear it from you. There are things you might not understand yet.”

“Are you going to hurt him?”

Yor looks up from her food and into Loid’s eyes. “If I decide you’re safer away from him, then I will file for a divorce and demand full custody of you. If that counts as hurting him…”

“No, Mama. Papa loves us.”

Loid chokes on his bite, feeling his entire face flush red.

“Does he, now?” Yor says and turns her eyes to her plate. “He has a weird way of showing it.”

“But—”

“Anya,” Loid says, coughing. “Don’t. This is my responsibility, alright?”

“But… you’re only together because of me. Because I chose you.”

They both pause, looking at her. He feels Yor’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t have the strength to face her right now.

He’s been reduced to pieces.

“It’s not your fault,” Yor says, her voice finally growing softer. “We are the adults here. It’s our job to clear things up.”

“If you didn’t know about my powers…”

“It would still be wrong,” Loid says. “We could never be together with so many lies between us.” He sighs. “In a way, I’m glad it’s all out. I was planning on telling you, though in a much more delicate manner so you wouldn’t freak out.”

He notices how she looks at him. Would there actually be any way of telling her without her freaking out just a little bit?

He doesn’t plan on finding out. This only gives him more incentive to put an end to this loop today.

“Anything to help your job, right?” Yor says curtly.

“This has nothing to do with my job. It’s a danger to my job that you know,” he can’t help defending himself.

She looks at him, and a vein pops on her hand when she grips her fork with a little more force than necessary.

“But I want you to know.” He looks at Anya, then back at her. “We can talk after Anya is gone, alright?”

“Don’t fight,” Anya says in a low voice.

I can’t promise that.

From Anya’s reaction, he guesses Yor had the same thought.

There’s a tense silence as the three go to their rooms to get dressed. He waits by the phone after calling in sick at the hospital too.

This day won’t reset. I’d better forge some papers claiming me and Yor were sick so that we won’t get in trouble.

Yor walks past him to the front door. She’s wearing casual clothes, then wraps a thin scarf around her neck as she puts on her coat.

She’s hiding. More from me than from the crowd.

Anya appears too and takes Loid’s hand as she pulls him towards Yor. His heart falls to his stomach at the realization that today he’s not in the position to kiss her hand before they leave.

“Anya,” he says. “The bus engine is going to take five times to start. Don’t panic, okay?”

“Yup.”

They walk out without another word. Before Anya steps onto the bus, she turns to them with worried eyes.

Loid gives her his best attempt at a smile.

It’s going to be alright. It’s not your fault.

Anya’s expression doesn’t change as she turns forward. She looks at them again through the window once she’s seated.

“It’s your big day today,” Yor says softly, an unsure smile on her face as well. “Try to think about that, okay?”

Anya nods, then looks at the bus driver when she notices how many times the bus takes to start.

Her face is still down as the bus takes her away.

“We’re going out, then?” Loid asks, turning to Yor once the bus is far enough for Anya to not hear.

“It’s for your own good,” Yor says. “Better to keep me away from any knives.”

She gives him a look that sends a shiver down his spine.

To his embarrassment, he realizes that shiver is not only from fear.

He sets his jaw straight, beckons her forward, and starts walking. “Shall we, then? Should I start or do you—”

“Who are you?”

He purses his lips. “I can’t tell you anything that might put you in danger.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. But are you willing to risk that much just for that question?”

She doesn’t reply, but her face is enough of an answer.

Yes, she is.

“Are you that infamous, that such a simple question can cause an issue for me? You know who I am, how is it fair for me to not know about you?”

“It’s not. I wish I hadn’t learned about you the way I did.”

“Did Anya really sell me out like that?”

“It was an accident. She only said it because she thought I already knew. She was confused.” He sighs. “It was a lot to take in, the whole thing about the time loop, I mean.”

“It is a lot to take in. I’m still not perfectly sure I believe you.”

He pauses. “How would I know everything I said by now? How would I know the bus would take five times to start?”

“Because you have people in places,” she says, practically throwing his own words back at him. “But that’s not it. You… you look different.”

“It’s only been one day for you.” His voice is low. “So much has happened in the days I relived that I’m not exactly certain I remember who I was before that.”

“Wait,” she says and stops. Her lips part as she looks for the right words to say. “Did—did something… happen? During those days?”

“Something in particular?”

He might not be able to read her mind, but he can certainly read her expression. One single twitch of his lips and she’s almost gotten her answer.

“What did I do?” she asks.

He's quiet. He was not supposed to use that moment as leverage.

“What. Did. I. Do?!”

He swallows hard. “You kissed me. And... I kissed you back.”

She breathes out a gasp and looks away, her face going red.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been that honest?

No. She deserves to know.

“Did you trick me?”

“No,” he says weakly. “I—Well, I did play a part in causing some minor issue at the city hall so your department would be dismissed earlier in the day, so I could spend some time to make you happy that day.”

“And you… you flirted with me?”

“No, uh, well…” Dancing with her doesn’t really qualify as flirting, but considering the emotions that drove that action of his… “We just spent some time together, took a walk, went to that park you like. You seemed so thankful for that break and I started telling you about the loop.”

���You told me?” The embarrassment on her face starts lifting.

“I didn’t know about who you really were then. I just felt so grateful you were with me in that moment.”

“Why?”

“Huh?” He’s almost taken aback by her curt question.

“Why that moment in particular?”

His stomach twists in knots. “Because the day prior to that you found me bleeding to death. The killer had shot me that time. I asked you to stay with me and you held me. And then, the day after, I… I just wanted to make you feel happy.” And you told me you’re already happy. “And when we were at the park, and I told you about what I was experiencing, you were so kind and understanding… and then you kissed me.”

She sighs, clutching at the strap of her handbag. “And you kissed me back.”

Her voice is a little softer now, but still harsh enough to feel like he's being punched in the gut.

“Yes,” he says.

“Why did you?”

His hand closes into a relaxed fist. His mouth feels dry.

“Was that also for your cover, or do you really...?”

“It was not for cover. My mission was nowhere in my mind in that moment. I just realized that, after you kissed me... I wanted to feel that again.” He looks at her, her stiff look feeling cold upon the layers he just exposed.

“And then? What happened?”

“You offered to help me catch the killer. I didn’t want you involved in that risk, so I refused. But you still tried to help me. I…” Out with it. “I had snipers set to kill him, but he had found that out and killed them one by one. The last one left started panicking, and shot at the wrong moment.” He looks away. “The killer pushed you in the bullet’s trajectory and you died.”

“I attacked him?”

“Yes.”

“And I didn’t manage to kill him?”

He looks back at her. It feels surreal, to have such a discussion with Yor. Yor.

“He’s good. He’s really good. And that sniper will go in for re-training once this loop is over.”

“And what did you do when I died?”

I lost it. “I didn’t really have much of an advantage against him. I let him approach me and kill me. You were completely unharmed when the day reset.”

“But I had forgotten everything.”

“Yeah.”

Her face relaxes, but she keeps her gaze on him. “You still haven’t answered, you know. My very first question.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s a complicated question. If you could break it down in parts—”

“What’s your real name?”

Oof.

He opens his mouth in an effort to say something, anything, but she interrupts him with another question.

“Are you even from this country?” Thankfully, it’s said in a whisper.

“No.” His throat is tense. It almost hurts to swallow now.

“You’re from the west.”

He nods.

“Alright. So you don’t have any connections to this place. I mean, family and friends.”

“No.” He bites his cheek. “Do you remember what I told you, the night after Yuri’s first visit?”

She tenses. “That you don’t have any family or friends, aside from Anya.”

He nods. “That was true. And Anya… well, at that point, she was still just an asset to my mission.”

“And now she’s not?”

He sighs heavily. “Not anymore.” And neither are you.

The corners of her lips cringe back. “You didn’t accept Yuri just out of respect. You only did it because you needed to keep me as your wife.”

Tell her. Tell her, you bastard, that you only accepted him because you thought he’d be useful for information. She deserves to know everything.

Not that. That’s not my secret to tell.

“Yes,” he says. “But I meant what I said then. I know you love and care for each other, and honestly, I can’t fault Yuri. I… I can only dream how different my life would have been, if I’d had someone to look after me the way you looked after him.”

“Where are they? You must have had someone, growing up. You told me about your mother once.”

“They died in the war.” His words feel like blades scraping at his throat. “I was left alone, at an age way too young for anyone to lose everything.” He looks at her, struggling to keep a neutral face. “Don’t you wonder what I’m doing here? Why I’ve made all those choices that are now making you look at me like this?”

She blinks, controlling her face, suddenly aware of how many emotions it has been betraying.

“There’s constant threat of war breaking out again. We haven’t truly had peace after the last one ended. Ever since then, I’ve been doing everything I can to stop it from happening again.”

“And how do Anya and I come into all this?”

“I needed a family as my cover. I’m sure you understand that,” he says, but regrets his tone when Yor’s eyes darken again.

“I might have lied about my job, but I never lied about me,” she says. “I don’t even know who you are. I thought you were a widower who wanted the best education for his daughter. That you agreed to marry me because you trusted me and wanted to help me, not because you wanted to use me. And I used you too, in a way, but—I thought you were patient with my brother because you were just patient. But you were just using me all this time.” She stops walking, and her mouth drops open. “Everything you’ve ever told me… it was to keep me with you, not because you cared, but because it helped your mission.”

“No…” he breathes.

“Is it not true?”

He mumbles, lost for words. He closes his eyes and breathes in, then out. “It is. But not everything I’ve told you is a lie.”

“Great. Let’s go down the list then, shall we?” She starts walking again, but the way her voice breaks makes him feel unwelcome to follow her.

She’s heartbroken, and for the first time, she’s actually taking it out on the person responsible.

He runs after her.

“You have every right to not believe me, but being with you has changed me.”

“Right.” The sob is now audible in her words. “Because I’m that special.”

“That’s not what I meant. Yor. I’ve…” Damn it. Spit it out. “I’ve been in many relationships with women for the sake of my missions.”

He doesn’t miss the way her face cringes at that.

“But it was always, always, based on lies. What we had… it was the first time I felt I didn’t have to convince you of my fake feelings. We both knew the marriage was only on paper and I—I didn’t have to pretend so much. And I just had no idea how much that would make me expose things about myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember how Master Swan had treated you during Anya’s interview? I wasn’t supposed to get upset, but I did, I was angry, because he was being crass and hurt your feelings. And Anya’s.”

She pauses, apparently going back and remembering what happened. She lowers her gaze. “So almost punching that man wasn’t part of the plan.”

“No, no,” he says with a mirthless chuckle. “That almost ruined the entire mission.”

 “You mean to tell me you almost failed your mission because your feelings got the best of you?” She turns to him, her face accusatory, but it slowly softens as she realizes the actual meaning of her conclusion.

“I don’t want to list all the things I happened to be honest with you about. I don’t want to rig the scales in my favour. I want this to be your choice, whether to trust me again or not.”

“Again?” she says and purses her lips. “The man I trusted doesn’t even exist, does he?” After a pause, she says, “But Anya trusts you. If she’s read your mind, then she knows who you are. What did she see that made her trust you?”

It’s a genuine question. He hopes it’s not just his imagination that makes him hear the Give me something to trust you for part in her words.

“She knows what the war cost me. And she knows that I’ve dedicated my life to preventing anyone else from going through the same thing, as much as it is in my power.” He hums. “We had a rocky start too, me and her. I didn’t want to involve her, but she chose me, over and over.”

“You said you learned about her powers yesterday?”

“Technically, thirteen repetitions of this day ago. In the yesterday you remember I didn’t know.”

Her voice turns to ice. “And what exactly have you been doing since you found out?”

He pauses. “Yor…”

“Have you used her?”

“She offered…” he sounds tired. He feels tired, exposed.

Her eyes burn again.

One step forward, two steps back.

“I know it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right from the beginning. But Yor, she knew.”

“She’s a little kid. She doesn’t understand the world the way we do.”

“I gave her the chance to leave, to find a better family to adopt her. But she stayed with me, Yor.” His voice breaks. “I didn’t even know it, but she has been helping me all along.”

“That’s all the more reason to not involve her any further.”

“She was never in any danger. I made sure of that.”

“Does it matter? She is six.”

Probably younger.

“You are right. I don’t know what else to say. I almost entirely hated that I was taking that option… but the ends have justified my means for so long that accepting Anya’s offered help seemed a small sacrifice in the long run.”

“Would you do it again, knowing what you know now?”

 He doesn’t dare speak. His guilt-ridden silence is enough of an answer.

She straightens. “What would you do if I filed for a divorce and asked for full custody?”

“I wouldn’t stop you. If there’s one of us Anya deserves to have in her life, it’s you.”

“Even though it would compromise your mission?”

Them leaving is what would make it easier, in fact. “In all those days that were repeated, I almost completed the mission that required me to create this family. In technical terms, there's no reason for me to keep it. If we get a divorce and you take Anya, it would only make it easier for Loid Forger to disappear and for me to continue on to new missions. If I get through this day and manage to break the loop, you'll be free to go and I won’t be coming after you.” He takes a breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “But I will ask you once, to give me a chance.”

“A chance?”

“In a way, I'm relieved that you know everything, because now it's your choice whether to stay or not; I'm not going to trick you into staying. And I don't want to wake up in a tomorrow where you don't know about me.”

“Wait… you want me to stay? You want me to remember?”

Say it. Say it, come on. “Yes. I would like you to stay with me, if you want to, of course.”

“What exactly happened after I kissed you that day?”

“You said you didn’t want to forget that day. I think this was why you fought the killer, to give yourself a chance to remember it. I told you I wished I could have you by my side through it all.” He sighs. “And you told me to find you as you were in that moment.”

Her face softens as red colors her cheeks and tears form in her eyes.

“I meant all that I said then. I want you by my side. I want to be a man that deserves you and Anya. But you're free to your choice. I just ask for a chance to build a better choice of me.”

She closes her eyes and breathes in.

Is she fighting back her tears?

How he wishes he could reach and wipe them away.

“I still need my camouflage. What are you going to do if I stay, but only as your pretend wife?”

“I’ll be happy knowing Anya has both of us in her life. But what I want more is for you to be happy too. If you find yourself miserable with me…”

“I was happy…” a sob breaks out of her. “But now I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to decide immediately. Yor,” he says, struggling to not let the lump in his throat sound in his voice. “You can stay for as long as you like. And if you decide you want to actually be with me… I’ll be right here.”

She takes a deep breath, composing herself. “Doesn’t that compromise you? Isn’t your mission important?”

“I’m already compromised. It’s already happened. I’m only choosing to give in to my feelings before they make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Like what?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. Aren’t we humans unpredictable?” He finally composes his face. “I’ve been denying my feelings from the beginning. During this time loop, all of you have tried to save me; Anya, you, even Bond! When I saw how much it impacted me, to see you die even though I woke up and everything was fine again, I knew I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.” He looks into her eyes. “I want to fight for what we’ve built. I want to stay, and I want to deserve my place in it.”

“I…” Her lower lip starts trembling.

“You don’t have to answer right now. Take your time. For now, all I need is for you to not report me.”

“You don’t mind my job?”

“Well, I was shocked to find out exactly whoyou were. But I’m not one to judge, and as of now your job hasn’t gotten in the way of my missions. Unless that changes…”

“What will you do then?”

His lips form a thin line. “Talk it out?”

“Are you serious?”

He huffs. “Even if I didn’t know you can take me in hand-to-hand combat, I don’t think I’d have the heart by now to fight you.”

Her eyes widen.

“If things went really far I’d probably be able to fight it, but I’d hate myself for the rest of my life.”

She spends a few moments looking into his eyes, her expression going from shock to confusion and finally reluctant acceptance.

All the while he’s fighting the urge to lean in and kiss her.

“I want you to show me what we did that day,” she says. “The day I kissed you.”

He nods, remembering his promise to give her that day again.

A promise he won’t keep, after all. Nothing he does today can make her as happy as she was then.

“It won’t be until early in the afternoon for that.”

“What? Why?”

He smiles innocently. “I want to show you something that happens at a specific time.”

She thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Fine. Should we head back home?”

He nods and instinctively reaches out his elbow to her. She looks at it, then back at his face, and he retrieves it as his face flushes red.

Halfway home, she speaks again.

“You know my secret name. It’s only fair I know yours.”

It’s like a hand wraps around his throat, stopping him from saying it out loud. No matter how many things he accepts about himself, that part of training has stayed strong in him.

No part of his job was ever pleasant. He accepted that a long time ago.

But back then he didn’t have anyone or anything making him feel he wants to deserve better than that. His goal is still to fight for peace, but he’s already exposed too much by now. What would one more thing change?

“Twilight.” Its whisper burns on his tongue. Wrong, wrong, wrong! You utter failure!

Her eyes widen again. She’s heard of him, of course.

“That’s who I married,” she says softly and shakes her head. “Of all people.”

“If it’s any consolation, it was a shock for me as well, to find out about you.” He sighs. “And it’s all thanks to Anya.”

She almost chuckles. “She’ll need a stern talking-to at some point.”

He dares entertain the hope that it will be the two of them doing that with her.

Yor starts rubbing at her forehead once they enter the apartment. She reaches into the medicine cabinet for painkillers and swallows three pills.

“Whoa, Yor, careful.”

She gives him a look through narrow eyes as she downs a glass of water. “Knock on my door when it’s time for your show.”

She goes to her room, closing the door behind her, completely unaware of how her words have ripped him apart.

He collapses on the sofa, welcoming Bond’s furry head on his lap.

“You’ve been here for me,” he tells him. “I never realized how much you wanted to comfort me. Do you have a vision, every morning, before banging on my door? Is that why you wake me up?”

Do you see me die horrifically?

His head perks up towards Yor’s room. Right, she doesn’t know about Bond’s powers. He should come clean to her about that too.

He checks for messages airing for him, and of course HQ is riddled with questions about the intel he shared that morning.

So much has happened since then that he almost forgot about that.

He sends a message saying he’ll explain on his next briefing, then gets up to call Franky and cancel their meeting.

“Oh,” he says before hanging up. “Today you might wanna play the numbers 16, 20, 24, 30, 35 and 5 on the lottery.”

“Eh? What are you on about? Do you know something?”

“Thank me later,” he says with a smile and hangs up.

[onyxino]

Jealousy: Levi x Reader

Cw: None, well maybe, reader and Levi making out a lil bit?? Reader and Petra also make out kinda??  MDNI tho bc I don’t want your baby asses on my tumblr, I will block u, go play Fortnite.

Word Count: 1k

Being placed in the Special Operations Squad wasn't all intense training and serious situations.

Sometimes it was lighthearted and happy especially when you and Petra had an opportunity to mess with Oluo.

It was super obvious that the man was head over heels in love with Petra. He showed it in the weirdest ways, such as: trying so hard to be a knock-off copy of Captain Levi the man Petra was head over heels for.

-

"C'mon, Petra, Oluo is absolutely smitten." You say a goofy grin painted on your face.

"Oh no, not at all, he's just a stupid guy, who thinks he's all that" She protested.

"I don't know, Pet." You pause "He just acts a certain typa' stupid around you."

"I mean you're right...." Petra said resting her head in her hand.

"I HAVE AN IDEA!" You stand from the table and exclaim a little too loud for it being three in the morning.

"Oh? What is it?" Petra askes hastily.

"Okay so, we'll put this theory to the test!" You say proudly "I'll act like your girlfriend all day tomorrow and see how he reacts."

Petra immediately blushes, like fire spreading across her cheeks.

"You actually cannot be serious right now." The ginger replies sheepishly.

"Oh but I am!" You reply a devilish smirk playing on your lips, "Everyone thinks we shack up anyway!"

"They do?!" Panic coating Petra's reply.

"Nah, but I mean we are extremely close...and there was that one time where we made out after drinking a whole bottle of wine..." You say scratching the back of your head.

"Okay I'm in." Petra agreed.

--

The next day rolled around and as perusal You and Petra were glued to the hip as you two helped continue the cleaning efforts on the temporary HQ.

But this time you two were a little more touchy with each other.

This did not go unnoticed not by just Oluo but the raven haired man standing not too far away on the other side of the yard.

"What the hell is goin' on with you two?" Oluo came over hands on his hips nose in the air "You two are all over one another!"

"Oh? Are we?" Petra questioned turning to you.

"I guess we are." you say back "Though that does make sense considering, she's my girlfirend."

Oluo nearly bit his tongue off.

The shorter man not too far away almost faltered and dropped his rake.

"What!? When did this happen!?" He half yelled.

"It's always been." Petra bluntly stated.

The ravennette with his back turned to you guys, over hearing  everything knitted his brows together in confusion. "sense when?" He thought to himself.

"You two gotta' be pullin' my leg!" Oluo exclaimed shocked laced in his voice.

"Nope." you giggled "She's all mine." you confirmed leaning over to the ginger and sliding an arm around her waist.

Levi stopped all motion and slightly turned in order to see the actions taking place, he felt a slight pang of jealously in his chest as he turned just in time to see Petra and you locking lips.

"What in the holly hell?" He questioned face contorting in confusion.

Although seeing the two women locking lips like that sent heat straight to his crotch, it also made his blood boil with rage. That however, was an issue for a different time, currently the woman he had sought after was holding and kissing someone that wasn't him.

He knew he was thinking crazy, you weren't in anyway his...but deep down this feeling he couldn't shake was getting stronger.

Oluo had about fainted at this point and you and Petra were giggling uncontrollably.

--

Later that night, you seemed to be the only one left awake, finishing toweling off the last of the dinner dishes and carefully setting it in the cupboard before quietly closing the door.

You turned on your heels and were confronted by your captain standing less than 3 feet from you.

He dawned his night clothes, empty tea cup in hand.

"Evening, Captain." you greet with a smile.

The captain said nothing and just kind of stared at you, you could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes.

"Tch, I had no clue you were into women." He stated bluntly.

Your face contorted visibly, you were very confused and shocked at the sudden statement then it dawned on you, this was about earlier.

"OOOOH!" You exclaimed waving your hands in front of your chest in defense, "It's really not what you think, Levi."

"Then what is it like?" He asked.

"Me and Petra aren't a thing, we were trying to get at Oluo, who is obviously whipped." You explained scratching the back of your head.

The knot made of pure jealously and anger had faded in Levi's chest, he exhaled.

"So, you're telling me.." he cocked an eyebrow "That you and Petra made out in front of everyone this morning to screw with Oluo?"

"And it worked too!" You exclaim proudly, "Man's been screwed up sense, and he had a nosebleed for like an hour after."

"Tch." Was all he muttered.

"Oh why? Was little Levi jealous that I got to lock lips with Petra before he did?" You teased.

Levi tightened his grip on his teacup if he had squeezed any harder the porcelain vessel would have shattered.

"You're an idiot." He muttered.

"Oh c'mon, it was a joke!" You rolled your eyes and that gesture only proceeded to piss him off more. In one swift movement Levi placed the dainty teacup on the counter and had you pinned against it.

He shoved his lips aggressively into yours. You gripped his shirt tightly as the kiss deepened and he slid his tongue across her bottom lip.

Not asking but demanding entrance.

You complied and allowed his tongue which tasted of black tea and peppermint explore your mouth.

You both fought for dominance, but in the end you relinquished all control to your captain. Your grip on his shirt only tightened as he slid a hand down cupping your back side pressing both of your bodies closer together.

A grunt emitted from Levi's throat as you bit gently on his lower lip. The need for air soon became apparent and you both pulled away from one another gasping and panting.

Your cheeks rosy red, gaping at him, your knuckles turning white as you continued to hold a death grip on Levi's white night shirt.

"I wasn't jealous of you, brat." He spat " I was jealous of Petra."

[noyasboxdye]

Anime boys icks

Notes: This is just for shits and giggles please don't take this to heart I was just bored. Also, sorry if I fuck up your idea of them or wtv lol

Pairing: None

WARNINGS: slander, and gross shit tht I've seen and heard boys do

BNHA boys:

Kirishima hasn't washed his feet since his mom stopped watching him take a shower. He thinks it's fine because the soap from his body/hair will get to his feet

Bakugou spits a lot when he talks. The saying "say it don't spray it" was made because of him

Denki and M*neta were the types not shower for three days and just drown themselves in axe body spray. So they would smell like hot cheetos, sweat/wet dog, and axe

Deku's the type that would say "sowwy 🥺" and be serious

M*neta exists

Tsu always gotta put in her 2 cents where its not needed

All might breathes air

Mirio would be the type that when someone comes out to him as gay or bi/ply he would say "you don't have a crush on my do you?" (that just pissed me off ngl)

Haikyuu boys:

Atsumu's lock screen is a "rise and grind" post he got from tumblr or facebook

Hinata is a highlighter kid. It was red instead of green tho

Damn near all the boys in hq hit th top off the door frame when leaving

Yams would say Tsukki has a god complex bc he told him once like a year ago and he just never let it go so when tsukkis being a bitch he'll go "sorry he has a god complex" lmfao

You know when sum1 walks by you and they pricks ur nose an is spicy and shit thts what hinata smells like lmfao

Daichi post pictures of the sun rise and shit on his facebook with dumbass inspirational quotes on them

You know when u don't rise ur hair out after using eco gel and how it gets hard after not doing that for a week yh that's what teru's hair feels like

Ushijima smacks on his food like the its finna run away type smacking

Tendou will spam call you like somebody fucking died but don't answer calls, texts, etc. after

[pengiesama]

The Gang Crashes a Party While in Drag (Chapter 1) (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo)

Title: The Gang Crashes a Party While in Drag Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary:

Sorey and the crew investigate reports of a black market trafficking ring, and zero in on a particularly nasty noble at the center of it all. Luckily, said noble is opening his chateau to host a masquerade – the perfect opportunity to get close. Unluckily, the Shepherd’s fame has spread wide, and Sorey needs a disguise to make sure he’s incognito.

This is achieved by the obvious solution, and that's to disguise him in a dress and pass him off as Rose's sister. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes:

Written for the Sorey/Mikleo 2019 Big Bang!

I partnered up with the wonderful Arivess @minstrels-ink​ and Nami; both of whom provided their artistic skills to complement my wack-ass ideas. I am eternally grateful to them.

Arivess's art is featured in Chapter 1! You can find her Tumblr here. Nami's art is featured in Chapter 2! You can find her Twitter here.

Link: AO3

Read on Tumblr!

“You’re lucky that you’re such a quick study on running in heels.”

“C’mon, Mikleo, is this really the time!?”

The hellion was fast – very fast – and easily closed in on whatever distance Sorey tried to put between them. His armatus with Mikleo was suited for sniping from afar, not for getting up close and personal with those rows and rows of sharp teeth. A change of tactics was needed, and – one body as they were – Sorey didn’t even need to speak the thought aloud before Mikleo helped him put the thought into action.

Sorey released his hold on the tether keeping them in the armatus, and felt Mikleo do the same. They split in two, and Mikleo allowed himself to be flung from Sorey’s sure and steady grip directly into the trunk of a tree. He vaulted gracefully off the trunk, and used the momentum to spring himself across the clearing and well out of the way of the rampaging hellion – and well out of the way of Sorey’s flaming sword.

“Fethmus Mioma!”

The flames illuminated the dark forest clearing, like morning’s light. The hellion shrank back, briefly stunned. Not that Sorey considered himself anything like an expert on hellions, but he’d never seen anything quite like this before. A wolf-headed hellion that stood at the height of three men, and had the approximate width of one of the emaciated famine victims that were such a common sight in towns these days. It was the width that was, perhaps, the most concerning – by any logic, it should have been wider, so much wider, to fit all the victims that it had been reported to have consumed. How could a hellion that devoured whole caravans of victims – stuffing them into the ever-drooling mouth, with its dozens of long, long arms – still be so grotesquely thin?

As always, Sorey’s certain tendency to get lost in his thoughts was something of a hindrance in battle. Luckily, there was someone still paying attention in this fight. The hellion was knocked over by a lucky hit from Rose and Edna’s armatus, and careened into a nearby tree with a dangerous-sounding crack. The tree lurched and toppled over, pinning the beast beneath it. Howling, the hellion tried to drag its body along the forest floor with those dozens of long arms; like a massive centipede that had been trapped beneath a giant boot. The air around the creature shimmered, and from the glinting aether, glowing chains sprang forth and bound the hellion (and the tree) more firmly into place. Zaveid landed atop the creature from where he’d been slinking about in the treetop cover, and struck a pose.

The hellion was too wounded to flee, too wounded to toss Zaveid off; too wounded and too mad with malevolence to do anything but crouch, drool, and snarl as Sorey and Lailah approached to attempt purification.

Rose wheezed in relief as she stumbled out of her armatus. She shook out her wrist, and flexed her fingers, as if testing to make sure they could still hold a knife.

“Geez! That thing’s skull was rock-hard. Felt like trying to put my fist through a wall…”

“You’re welcome to use your head next time if the Lady Edna’s holy fists aren’t cutting the mustard,” Edna replied drily. “I imagine it’s one of the only naturally-occurring elements that outrank them on the hardness scale.”

“I’m glad everyone’s feeling so energetic after that fight.” Mikleo finished up tending to Rose’s hand and arm with his healing artes, and surveyed the rest of the party judgmentally. “I take that to mean that no one will be whining at me when we head to the inn that their back hurts, then? I’d prefer to be bothered now than have to find out later…”

Sorey felt Mikleo’s stare burning into the back of his neck. He swallowed hard and tried to focus on finishing things up with Lailah and the hellion.

“Yanno, it’s almost a shame that we gotta purify this thing,” Zaveid said. He was still perched atop the hellion, and was holding the chains binding it like a pair of reins. “It’d make a pretty metal mount, don’t ya think? Roll up to a hot date riding this thing and you’ll have ‘em swooning.”

The hellion gave a pained shriek as the flames continued to burn away its tainted flesh. The acrid smell of it filled the night air. Its many limbs clawed at its face and neck, rending the skin there, as if mutilating itself was a relief in comparison to being healed of the corruption inside.

“The more we learn about you, Zaveid,” Mikleo said. “The more we understand you.”

“You’ll want to get down,” Lailah lightly called up to him.

Zaveid winked at her and made a little heart with his fingers. “Ooh, Lailah, no need to be so shy. C’mon up here, the weather’s fine—”

The flames had climbed up to where Zaveid stood, and the hellion’s constructed form finally collapsed in on itself like the frame of a burning house. Zaveid stumbled briefly before managing to catch himself on the superheated updraft of air and bounce off it to land on the ground with a…marginal amount of grace. Or at least without falling on his ass.

“How’s it looking?” Rose called over to Sorey and Lailah. “Human, animal, plant? Bunch of rocks glued together with googly eyes stuck on?”

Sorey took a deep breath to steady himself after the purification, and Mikleo was already behind him to grab at his shoulder. Steady as anything.

“Human,” Sorey said, finally. “Still alive. Not awake yet.”

“Peachy,” Rose said. “Much easier to interrogate a person. I’ve heard that the Sparrowfeathers’ boss is in quite a snit over all those shipments he’s gobbled up, and she’s dying for the full story.”

Which was, of course, part of why they were here. This particular hellion had been targeting caravans navigating this stretch of road between the border of Hyland and Rolance. The harrowing accounts of the survivors was motivation enough for Sorey and Rose to investigate and intervene, but Rose’s own motivation was given a bit of a nitro boost when she learned that several Sparrowfeather shipments had been delayed or lost due to the creature’s activity.

“…delayed…”

The man was waking up. He looked so terribly ordinary, in comparison to the nightmare that stalked the roads on a hundred limbs. He was dressed in simple traveling clothes. Thin cheeks, worn boots. Another person overcome by malevolence by starvation and resentment? He’d hardly be the first. But all he’d need was support, and –

“…delayed, delayed, delayed, delayed, can’t be late again, the boss said we can’t be late again, get the cargo—”

“Hold him down,” Rose said to Zaveid, before moving in herself.

“Anything for you, boss lady,” Zaveid said.

Chains glinted and held the man down, stopping him from thrashing while Rose grabbed his head on both sides and forced him to look at her.

“Hey. We’re passing through. Who’s this boss of yours? We’ll get the cargo to him on time.”

The man’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

“No.”

He began to shake, then began to weep.

“Gone. Gone, they’re gone, they’re gone, we were supposed to deliver them to Hyland for sale but they’re gone and the boss he won’t like it he’ll know it was me and then Anne, Anne and the kids, they’ll—”

Zaveid pulled his chains tight, cutting the man off and binding him tighter to the ground.

“He’s gonna go hellion again if he gets himself worked up,” he barked at Rose. “And I sure as hell don’t like all this ‘them’ stuff with his ‘cargo’.”

Rose knew when to back down – that conversation was going nowhere fast, anyway. She wisely allowed Lailah to cast a spell that sent the man into the comparative relief of unconsciousness, and mulled over the facts they had.

“The Scattered Bones will take him into custody,” she said, finally.

“Custody?” Sorey said uneasily.

Rose leaned her head on her hand and looked at Sorey, one eyebrow raised. “You saw what happened the second he woke up. They’ll keep an eye on him at HQ and see if they can get the full story out of him.”

Sorey stared at the man for a moment, then swallowed hard. “And…try to help him?”

“As best as we can,” Rose replied, honestly. “You’ve seen this before, Sorey. People getting so desperate that they do things they can never forgive themselves for. He might wake up with a new lease on life, and we’ll put him to work in the company. Or he might wake up and immediately go creepy-crawly again the second he remembers what he’s done. Sometimes you just need to—”

“I get it,” Sorey cut her off. “But…we can’t just…he mentioned a boss.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” A slow, dangerous smile spread across Rose’s face. “We’re not done with them just yet.”

Lailah ahemed lightly, and glided forward.

“The man is purified. The Shepherd’s duty is finished,” she said. “Shall we discuss our next moves in a more…hospitable area?”

“Let’s rest at the inn a while,” Mikleo said.

His hand was a comfort and anchor on Sorey’s back. He allowed himself to lean into it, and be guided by Mikleo’s sure current.

 -

--

 “So, good news first,” Rose began. “It didn’t take long for us to get info on this boss guy.”

But Rose’s tone did not, in fact, indicate that the news was quite as good as all that. Things never seemed to be quite so simple, anymore.

“And the bad news?” Mikleo asked, voicing Sorey’s thoughts aloud.

Rose threw herself onto the inn bed and leaned back on her arms.

“Hooboy. Where to start? The bad news, the REALLY bad news, or the damn inconvenient news?”

“Ooh, now you’ve gotten me all excited.” Edna’s face was utterly expressionless, and her tone likewise. She was perched atop the inn’s tall wooden wardrobe; the vantage point allowing her to better beam her disdain at those below like a judgmental gargoyle. “Spill the beans before I perish from anticipation.”

Rose squinted up at her. “…how did you get…anyway. So. Our friend was part of a black market smuggling operation. First it was just contraband goods, and then they branched out into human trafficking – that was when his conscience caught up with him and he started chowing down on his coworkers and stalking the highways. He was pretty low on the ladder and didn’t know much about the guys really running it; he only ever had contact with cronies. But everything he told us lines up with cases that we’ve been monitoring for months. This ring isn’t just limited to a few scattered caravans on rural backroads. We’ve got reports of it being tied to activity across Hyland and Rolance, which let me tell you, will do peace talks no favors. Hyland’s gonna blame Rolance and Rolance’s gonna blame Hyland and so on.”

“…so, was that the bad news, the really bad news, or the inconvenient news?” asked Sorey.

“It’s all blended together in an intricate tapestry of unfortunateness,” Rose said. “So on one hand, it is Hyland’s fault. All of our sources are pointing to one of their nobles being the ringleader behind it all – his eminence Lord Mardoc of House Melwas. House Melwas owns most of the shipping lines nearest to Rolance’s borders, so the infrastructure was already there for him to pull this off. But on the other hand, even though he’s footing the bills and reaping the profits, these kinds of enterprises tend to be…group ventures. Especially when they’ve got a reach as wide as this. It’s not gonna go away completely even if we manage to take the boss chump down.”

“Even if we were to apprehend everyone involved, Hyland and Rolance would need to work together to extradite the accused and bring them to trial,” Mikleo said. “It could take years.”

“And that’s assuming Rolance will play nice,” Rose added. “Bet they’d only be too happy to set the blame totally on Hyland’s shoulders.”

“So…I guess it’s up to the Shepherd, then?” Sorey said, softly.

There was historical precedent for such a thing: Shepherds, mediating international disputes as the neutral third parties they were always intended to be. Sorey could rattle off at least three or four such incidents off the top of his head – one of them even involved digging up the skeleton of a previous Rolance pope to put it on trial. (The skeleton, judged guilty, was stripped of its papal hat and frockery and then beheaded. Sorey often wondered if any of that was truly necessary.) But reading about it in history books was one thing, and being expected to live it himself was…quite another.

A long, drawn-out fight amongst a bunch of squabbling politicians and nobles, all trying to point fingers while the world around them was falling apart. When the cards were laid out on the table like this, the odds seemed…almost insurmountable. Sorey’s shoulders drooped with the weight of his thoughts. Mikleo’s cool hand on his nape was all that kept him from sinking too deeply into a place that would be hard to return from. Here be darkness, and skeleton popes.

“And you guys wonder why I went into customer service,” said Rose.

“Just want to note that it’s so convenient that your little gossip crew dug up so much dirt so fast,” Edna commented drily. “Almost like they’ve been sitting on said dirt for a while, doing nothing about it until it got inconvenient. Like when it was your turn to get your shipments munched on.”

Edna, unfortunately, always seemed to know how to hit where it hurt. She zeroed in on weak points so easily: Mikleo’s height, Zaveid’s receding hairline, Rose’s sense of justice. Sorey’s heart twisted unhappily at the sight of Rose’s knuckles fisted in the bedspread.

“Kinda feels like that, doesn’t it?” Rose finally said. She lifted her head, wearing a thoughtful expression. “You know, we’d joked for the longest time that we should start invoicing the Hyland knights, since we were doing their jobs for them – upholding the peace and all that. But it seems like we’ve gotten a little lax lately.”

“Rose,” Mikleo said. “It’s not your job to police Hyland’s laws. You can’t take all that responsibility on yourself.

Sorey couldn’t help but sense that comment wasn’t just directed at Rose, for some reason. (Like the fact that Mikleo’s hand found his own when he said it, and squeezed tight.) Still, Rose didn’t exactly seem to take the advice to heart. She jumped to her feet, and set her hands to her hips; a grin plastered to her face.

“It’s a matter of customer service at this point,” Rose said. “The Scattered Bones can’t refuse to investigate a direct request, now can they?”

Sorey blinked. “A direct request? From who?”

“Our friend from last night. Remember? Eight feet tall, big and scary, sharp teeth, loads of arms?”

“I don’t remember him asking anything,” Sorey replied, dubious.

“He definitely didn’t,” Mikleo agreed. “He yelled a bit and then passed out. I’d wager his hellion form was much taller than a mere eight feet, as well.”

“Guys,” Rose groaned. “A little bit of room for interpretation, please. Plus, if this Mardoc guy really is behind this operation, his homebase is probably lousy with malevolence – cleaning that up is right up our alley. So what do you say; wanna do a house-call at Chateau Melwas? It’s on the outskirts of—”

Sorey startled at Rose’s question, suddenly remembering something very important – something absolutely vital. He seized Mikleo’s wrist, urgently.

“Wait! Chateau Melwas. Of course; we only ever saw it written out like that, but of course it’d be owned by House Melwas!”

Mikleo’s eyes went huge, and he seized Sorey’s wrist right back.

“You’re right! It’s only logical. Chateau Melwas, built atop the underground Baudemagus Cathedral. An architectural marvel, built with a mix of Hyland and Rolance techniques to keep its structural integrity. It’s been sealed off for centuries from the public.”

“We could see the archivolts,” Sorey whispered urgently.

“We could see the archivolts,” Mikleo agreed, just as urgently. For just a moment, his gaze grew distant and vacant, as if he was wholly lost in thoughts of archivolts. Sorey could relate. He could so, so relate.

“I know I should be more careful about what I say, but I just don’t ever know what’s going to set them off…” Rose lamented. She looked up at Edna. “Wanna help me find Lailah and Zaveid so we can start brainstorming?”

Edna hopped down from her perch. “I’ll take any opportunity to get out of this room, no matter how unpleasant. Circumstances must.”

 --

 They were to infiltrate the chateau of House Melwas, to gather evidence and evaluate the truth of the claims against Lord Mardoc (and admire some archivolts in the process). Luckily for them, they had stumbled upon this mission during a most fortuitous time – Lord Mardoc was opening Chateau Melwas for a masquerade ball. It would be the best chance they’d get to investigate…and, perhaps, the only chance.

To an outside observer, the cards would seem to be stacked in Sorey’s favor. Not only would he have the noise and bustle of the masquerade to hide his movements, but he also had a master assassin and four magical invisible friends to back him up. Surely it would be child’s play for the almighty Shepherd.

Unfortunately, there were a few handicaps in play that evened the odds:

One: Sorey, even at this point in his short career, had become quite recognizable as the Shepherd.

Two: Rose, having a long and storied career as one of the continent’s most successful capitalists, was even more recognizable.

Being that they were famous-slash-infamous, it called for them to attend undercover – after all, if it was discovered that the Shepherd was in attendance, Mardoc would surely rush to dispose of any evidence of his illicit activities, making their entire search fruitless.

Surely a masquerade would make undercover activity simple…if it were not for the final handicap:

Three: Sorey was an absolutely wretched actor, and was sure to give away the game in a matter of seconds.

Thus, this called for a more stealthy infiltration. To this end, they tested out Mikleo’s talents in the safety of their base of operations (being their room at the inn).

“Uh…” Rose frowned, looking Sorey over critically. “I don’t think this is gonna work.”

Sorey was invisible…in some places. One arm, then the fingers of his other hand, and his torso. His right leg blinked back into view, then disappeared again, then slowly regained its opacity once more as the seconds ticked by.

“Just…give me a minute…” Mikleo said through gritted teeth. He was visibly shaking from the effort of keeping up the spell for so long. His skin was even paler than normal, and was beaded with sweat.

Sorey appeared to be torn between the urge to rush over to Mikleo’s side to support him, and the urge to stay in place as firmly instructed by Mikleo at the start of the experiment.

“Mikleo,” Sorey pleaded. “We’ve got backup options, you know?”

“Like what?” Mikleo snapped. He briefly lost his hold on the spell, and Sorey’s torso flickered. “Put a bedsheet over your head and pretend to be ghosts haunting the grounds?”

Rose shivered. “Gonna veto that one. Hard.”

Edna made a sympathetic noise, and patted Rose’s shoulder. “You’re so right, Rose. That’d be so inconsiderate to all the ghosts that probably already haunt that moldy old underground cathedral. Don’t wanna stir them up.”

Rose wailed and immediately retreated under the bed.

Lailah, finally, set a hand on Mikleo’s should and bade him to stop. Exhausted, Mikleo released the spell and leaned heavily on his staff. Sorey rushed over on his reappearing limbs to offer his support, and lead him to sit on the bed that Rose was currently lurking beneath.

“It was well worth attempting, but I must advise overexerting ourselves on this venture,” Lailah said. “Chateau Melwas is well outside of Ladylake’s jurisdiction – and as such, well outside of the reach of Lord Uno’s protective domain. The malevolence is thick here, our powers dampened with it. It would be dangerous indeed to take risks.”

“Back in the day, I’d just…dash up the walls and in through the windows, in and out like a shot…” Sorey heard Rose quietly musing underneath the bed. It seemed like she was mostly talking to herself. “Can’t really do that anymore, can I? Zaveid, he just doesn’t get my style, not like you did…”

Sorey squeezed Mikleo’s shoulder, and tried to get him to catch his eye.

“Rain check on cloak practice?” he asked, hopefully. “Maybe when we’re in a place where the air’s a bit cleaner?”

Mikleo would not, however, catch his eye, and sullenly wriggled his shoulder out of Sorey’s hold. Sorey’s heart sank.

Seeing Mikleo’s already-sour mood, Edna clicked her tongue, ready to make things worse, as usual.

“Why must we bank our hopes on the powers of a single frail Meebo?” she asked. “Just tart Sorey up in something pretty and have him flash the bouncers some leg at the door.”

She clearly did not mean this statement in earnest. She clearly meant it as a joke, as a way to needle Mikleo for being unable to live up to his own unreasonably high standards of personal achievement; to get him riled up enough to stop stewing in self-pity.

But there came a rumble from beneath the bed.

Rose scuttled out from her dark domain on all fours; her hair and eyes wild with inspiration.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s our game. We dress in drag and crash this party.”

This bizarre conclusion at least seemed to break Mikleo out of his sulk. He stared at her, baffled.

“…you’ll do what?”

Rose grabbed Sorey by the shoulder with one hand, and grabbed his chin in the other. She presented him to the rest of the group thusly, very proud of herself.

“I present to you: Lady Soreyella Sparrowfeather, with her dashing older brother, Lord Roseino Sparrowfeather. We are young single nouveau riche siblings travelling the world on our mamá and papá’s dime, looking for fun, excitement, and a suitor who will treat my naïve little sister like the delicate, squishy little cream puff she is.”

“…Okay,” Mikleo said, once he was sure Rose was finished. “Just give me a few minutes and we can try the cloaking arte again. I know that if I can just get a handle on the light refraction, I’ll be able to keep it up for as long as we need…”

Mikleo trailed off. The atmosphere of the room had changed palpably with Rose’s suggestion – it seemed to burn alight with an excitement that tingled the skin. The source of the burning flame was unmistakable: Lailah seemed to almost be hovering above the floor, and was wreathed in a holy aura of light. She clasped her hands together, and lifted them upwards, a prayer to the heavens.

“Splendid,” she whispered. “Oh, how splendid indeed. An undercover mission – not only under the cover of night, but also under cover of the finest finery!”

Mikleo wondered if it would be out of line for him to walk over and tug Lailah back down to have both her feet on the floor. Surely it would be within Sorey’s rights as Shepherd…but what would stop her from arising once more? Would it be better to simply tie a string to her ankle so she didn’t accidentally float away? These questions were all important ones, but they were secondary to the more salient question of the moment:

“Are you forgetting Lastonbell?” Mikleo asked. “Our resident provincial lard? Hello? Oh, not him too…”

Zaveid had joined Lailah in her conference approximately six inches above the flooring, his excitement equally as evident.

“Food, wine, gorgeous sights to see,” Zaveid whispered mistily. “Ladies beckoning with their burning gazes from across the crowded dance hall.”

It was becoming clear that the vote was heading in a certain direction; that direction being “Sorey and Rose crossdressing to crash a party”. Edna smirked at Mikleo and Sorey devilishly.

“Rose’s suggestion really just is so splendid, and the Lady Edna wholeheartedly supports it.” Edna twirled her umbrella as she spoke. “She simply cannot wait to see the Shepherd traipsing about in a shimmering gown and heels, resembling a graceful overdressed cupcake. He will blend right in with the buffet table and remain utterly undetectable. The perfect plan.”

Mikleo gaped at Sorey, speechless. Sorey, for his part, seemed resigned to his fate. He sighed heavily.

“If you guys think it’ll work, I’ll do it,” Sorey said. “But I don’t…I don’t really know anything about, well…any of this. Dancing, and balls, and dressing up…”

Lailah and Zaveid floated over to Sorey, and both took one of his hands in their own, tenderly.

“Fear not,” they spoke in unison. “For we will be at your side.”

“I know,” Sorey assured them. “You always are. But I’ll feel a little, well…out of place…”

Lailah’s grip tightened, and she leaned in, her eyes blazing.

“Please understand, Shepherd Sorey,” she said. “We will be by your side, all of us, in finery as fine as yours.”

Edna’s umbrella stopped twirling. “Excuse me?” she asked flatly.

Zaveid rose several more inches off the floor in his excitement. “You mean…”

“With the powers invested in me by the Lord Maotelus, I decree as Prime Lord that we shall all be disguised in a similar method, alongside the Shepherd and Squire.” Lailah’s voice was clear, commanding – it seemed to echo off the walls of the inn as if the walls were made of the resonant marble of a cathedral instead of ordinary wood. “It is our duty as seraphim to assist the Shepherd in all things, to show solidarity and share in his trials.”

“Pass,” Edna said, then shrieked aloud repeatedly as she was forcibly levitated off the ground to join Lailah and Zaveid.

“Guess you shouldn’t have voted for such a splendid plan if you weren’t willing to participate,” Mikleo wearily commented. He, too, was also being lifted off the ground by an invisible force gripping his capes and dangling him like a scruffed cat.

“Um,” Sorey said. “I really appreciate the company, but…isn’t the masquerade in less than a week? Can we find someone who can make outfits for everyone on such short notice? Especially outfits for, well, someone they can’t even really see…”

Rose threw her arm around Sorey’s shoulder (with some effort, considering the height difference and the fact that she was not currently taking part in the levitation fiesta).

“Sorey, Sorey, Sorey. Are you forgetting who you’re dealing with here?” Rose said. “The Sparrowfeathers have their ways. We just need to hit up this one tailor that owes me a favor or three…”

 -

--

 It was, of course, in Lastonbell that they found this tailor – the city of artisans was home to the most skilled hands on the continent, no matter what the craft. Rose smiled charmingly at the woman who answered the door. The smile was met with a weary stare.

“Ella,” Rose said. “Have I got a project for you.”

Ella slowly tried shutting the door, but Rose wedged her foot in before she could manage.

“Now, now, don’t try to be shy about it; we both know that you’re always excited to do work for me! Like I was saying, I’ve got a project and I just know you’re the only person who can pull it off. Don’t leave me out in the cold, here!”

Ella sighed tiredly. “I’ve told you a thousand times that there’s a limit to what those suits are designed to withstand. A little blood, the sealant can handle. You get sloppy, you get stains.”

Sorey could hazard a guess at how Rose had made the acquaintance of this woman. Rose huffed in irritation.

“Why do you always think I’m here about our suits? I’ve got other stuff on my plate, you know.”

“I also already told you that I can’t make them withstand deep ocean pressure.”

“We can talk about that again later!” Rose muscled her way in through the door, pulling Sorey along behind her. “Right now I need you to make six people look very pretty. Four of them are invisible. Also we’re all crossdressing and in disguise.”

Ella processed Rose’s words, and the situation she was presented. On her worktable, a pencil lifted, and began to sketch fervently on the sketchpad there. After a few moments, the pencil paused, and the sketchpad floated over to present itself to Ella for review. Ella leaned in, squinting through her thick glasses at the designs the phantom pencil had drafted for her. Finally, she shrugged.

“Whatever.” She went to fetch her measuring tape and some paper for notes. “As long as you keep giving me discounts on fabric.”

 --

 The day of the masquerade had arrived, and their disguises had arrived to their inn room, not a moment too soon.

“Your tailor friend worked so tirelessly, day and night,” Lailah said with a note of concern, even as she was visibly itching to tear into the carefully-wrapped packages. “I do hope that she didn’t exhaust herself.”

“She gets like that when she’s inspired,” Rose explained. “And it’s not like she did it out of the goodness of her heart. She gets first pick on any of our textile shipments, and every completed commission is a punch on her Scattered Bones loyalty card. Ten punches and she gets a free assassination request.”

The room became palpably awkward. Rose sighed aloud.

“Joking,” she said. “Not about the shipment thing though.”

“We just wonder sometimes…” Mikleo mumbled.

It was the moment of truth. The fashion show of the century. The couture reckoning.  

Rose posed with her booted leg on a footrest. She looked sleek, debonair – her fitted suit hid her curves, but could not quite flatten her entirely; giving her a silhouette that would steal the attention of men and women alike. The suit was a reddish-pink the color of the sky at twilight, and the fabric shone and shimmered luxuriously in the candlelight. She looked inarguably well put-together, but had an air of the rogue. Her red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wore a black handlebar moustache for…some reason.

“A moustache is not a toy,” chided Lailah.

Lailah looked as elegant as ever, and as understated as ever – that was to say, not understated whatsoever. It was a known fact in the study of zoology that the male of a species was very frequently the most glamorously-dressed, and while it was doubtful that Lailah had much interest in the field, perhaps she’d once travelled with someone who did. Or maybe she just saw a peacock one time, and thought, Yes! That is what I want to look like if I ever had to crossdress for a villain’s masquerade ball! Her ruby-red suit’s tails trailed behind her like a bird’s tailfeathers, and the ensemble positively dripped with white lace and golden filigree. Her hair was pulled back into its customary ponytail, but was braided through with red ribbon. Despite her admonishing Rose for moustache crimes, she herself wore a gaudy, dandy top hat atop her head.

“I swear on my last breath that I will smear jam all over this cravat and hide it in your bed at night,” Edna hissed.

Edna…well. Perhaps it was karmic consequence that had landed her in her current outfit, or perhaps it was her complete refusal to work with Ella and pay more than a scornful glance to the outfit designs that Lailah had drafted. She looked like the precious darling scion of a hallowed aristocratic house. She was absolutely drowning in frills and lace, in bows and cravats. Though the design was intended to bring to mind a sailor suit, a rock would have looked more seaworthy.

“You cut a distinguishing figure,” Lailah said sincerely. Rose cackled and twirled her moustache.

Visibly miserable, Edna yanked and tugged at the white stockings that she wore under her bloomers. “I haven’t worn pants in years. If I suffocate tonight I’m going to smear jam all over these tights and—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it.” Rose twirled her moustache once more for good measure. “Gentlemen, or should I say, gentleladies! You’re up!”

Zaveid’s leg was the first thing that could be seen in the doorway – his bare leg, sporting a gun holster hooked to his garter. He whirled into view, pressing his whole body up against the doorframe, posing like a femme fatale from a trashy stage play. Ella probably did not need to spend much time on his ensemble, considering how…little there was of it. It showcased his entire back, and bared cleavage to the point of obscenity. The sides were slit up to his hips, allowing him to showcase the curve of his ass with very little trouble. Despite the…lack of modesty, he didn’t look bad. It was just…

“I thought we were trying to not call attention to ourselves?” Edna commented flatly.

“You think about how we’d manage that with Zaveid, and you get back to me,” Rose said.

“I’m just…too much…to ignore…” Zaveid said breathily, fluttering his eyelashes on every syllable.

Despite herself, Edna had to give her that one.

“Um,” Sorey’s voice called from the hallway. “Can you guys tell me if I put this on right? I think I’ve got some leftover sashes…”

The group was stunned to silence as Sorey entered the room. It was not as though they expected Sorey to look bad in his disguise. They just didn’t expect him to look this good. Ella had outdone herself. The white bodice, trimmed with blue and gold embroidery, served two important functions: it cinched Sorey’s waist, and pushed up his already fairly large chest to create the illusion of a voluminous bosom. On the other hand, Ella chose not to hide Sorey’s broad shoulders and muscled arms; instead flattering and showcasing them with cutout shoulders and draping sleeves. The blond wig on his head framed his face charmingly; when Sorey gave a shy, awkward smile, those present in the room felt as though a thousand arrows hit their hearts.

“It’s a little tight, you know, in…this area.” Sorey gestured to his honkers. “But I really like the skirts! Did you tell Ella how much I love flappy capes?”

His practice in the armatus gave him the grace and balance to twirl in his heels, allowing the long, flowing skirts to float around him like a princess from a fairytale.

“Your tailor girl’s a magician,” Zaveid said with a note of wonder in his voice. “Man. If she made Sorey look like such a sweet little thing, just think about…”

He trailed off, but everyone knew exactly to whom he was referring. They looked towards the door, on the edge of their seats.

Secretly, everyone really had been looking forward to seeing Mikleo all dolled up—

“Mikleo! Come out, please!” Sorey pleaded. “I wanna see how pretty you look!”

…okay, “secretly” for everyone except Sorey, who was always extremely loud about all things Mikleo. But the fact remained: Mikleo was already stunning enough, with his snow-white skin and striking violet eyes, with his tiny waist and delicate features. Expectations were high, and were only made higher by the clear demonstration of Ella’s skills.

“I took a sneak peek at the dress Miss Ella sent for him,” Lailah sighed aloud as she spoke. “Truly lovely! Mikleo will be a vision in it.”

This assurance only served to heighten the excitement in the room, and served to make Sorey nearly start vibrating in place. They heard a grumble and the sound of footsteps from the hallway, and Mikleo stepped into the room…

…

…well.

“Are you happy now?” Mikleo spat, crossing his arms. That snow-white skin of his was cherry red, from the tips of his ears to his chest.

The dress was indeed beautiful, and was fitted to Mikleo’s envious figure perfectly. His waist, dainty as ever, was only made lovelier by the finely-embroidered and ribboned bodice. The sleeves and skirts flowed like water, shimmering in the room’s candlelight like a pond reflecting the sun. The colors of the fabric complemented his fair complexion perfectly – it was as though a fairy of ice and snow had descended to bless them with a crisp winter’s day.

However, the enchanting effect was seriously spoiled by the sour and uncomfortable look on Mikleo’s face, and the stiffness in the way that he moved. He walked like he was on stilts, and turned in place like he had sacks of barley tied to his hips. It was abundantly clear that skirts and heels did not agree with him on a personal or spiritual level. Putting a beautiful swan in a beautiful dress resulted in something that was less than the sum of its parts. And resulted in a pissed-off swan.

Sorey sighed dreamily, and swept over in his skirts to twirl around the room with Mikleo – Sorey, moving with effortless charm, and Mikleo, moving like a flailing fish.

“You look so great! Doesn’t he!?” Sorey asked the room, though he wouldn’t have heard any answer they gave, so lost he was in their twirling. “If only everyone in that whole ballroom could see you, I bet they’d just look at you and go, ‘wow’…”

At least now Mikleo was pouting, rather than scowling. It made him look marginally more presentable.

“…well, now that the two of us look so dashing,” Rose said, trying to get the subject onto something that wouldn’t horribly offend Sorey. “I think we’re ready to crash that party.”

“As long as our Cupcake Shepherd keeps his mouth shut,” Edna mumbled. She was lying face-down on the inn floor to indicate her displeasure at everything around her.

“Yeah, well, if things go well, Soreyella Sparrowfeather won’t need to do much talking at all,” Rose said. “Roseino will distract all those guests with his charm and tales of adventure, while Soreyella and Miklette slip out to investigate the building and get some evidence of Mardoc’s extracurricular business ventures.”

“Mikleo,” Mikleo harshly corrected. “Will escort Sorey. Without these stupid—pointless—”

In a fit of fury, Mikleo tore off one heeled shoe and threw it across the room. He then hobbled out of the room, one heel still on, grumbling as he lurched back to his own room to find his normal footwear. Sorey gathered up his skirts and hurried after him like a practiced maiden.

The stage was set, and the cast were in costume and ready for their cue. But the question remained: even with evidence at hand, what could be done if Hyland insisted on ignoring the crimes of its nobility?

(Art by Arivess!)

[pooklet]

unaesthetic asks (anon edition)

i usually use a psd for asks to make them look nice and transparent and number them but tbh it’s just keeping me from answering asks quickly, having to shift layers around and stuff. so this is me literally cutting and pasting the text of some asks into a text post instead, sry.

if i did not answer yr thing here i lost/never got the ask, need a separate post to answer it (community lot anon), or worked myself into an anxious lather when i did not have an immediate response at the ready and fled into the woods to hide inside an old damp log and mutate slowly into a creature composed entirely of moss.

1) hey friend i think i can actually help with this one! slig did my poor lover for momma lisa, and has a few of my other skins linked to different body meshes in this tag here. @asimplevampire​ also did rehash for androgyny. those are the two i know off the top of my head but if anyone else knows any others pls reply to this post!

i don’t personally make showerproof skintones for body meshes because i a) am lazy and b) don’t usually take pics of my sims in the shower or naked in general so the occasional floating head just gives me a lil chortle when it does happen.

2) yis, it is the second to last one in this post by @magpieplayssims​ with a bunch of face masks piled on.

3) i use a personal edit of gunmod’s 3.1 A camera which alters the, like, central pivot axis so i can swing the camera underground into any basements i might be using. as a result, whenever i load the lot, it starts me off zoomed inside the floor, you just gotta zoom out with the scroll wheel to get above ground and it works normally from there. i haven’t figured out how to mitigate this while still being able to access underground rooms. which is why my edit never got its own post, but i did share it here.

4) nah, not really. i mean i have an outdated one at the back of my catalogue but my face is boring to me cuz i see it every day n stuff & i’m less and less interested in making human features now that custom sliders have let me go absolutely mad with power.

5) ye sorry i put that on my to-do list and promptly forgot about it cuz my brain seems to think that putting something on a list means it’s done forever now!!!! but now it’s actually done and i’m fixing the other links too.

6) yr phone is a craven liar and i will not stand for this libel. earlier today i was genuinely bewildered by a discussion about channing tatum cuz i thought his name was tatum channing. i sat there for minutes, convinced that there were two guys in hollywood one named channing tatum and the other named tatum channing and wondering if that ever got confusing for them.

7) u would be surprised, friend! my memory is a lawless wasteland but i do not end up chatting back and forth w/ many ppl b/c i am a seething pit of social anxiety. if we talked, like, more than twice, i probs remember u!

8) omg i was about to be like “nah i never made nosemasks for those” but that is a fucking lie of the highest caliber, i totally did make one (1) set and then forgot entirely about it. i will post them with the next batch of bodyshop content which should be Shortly (and if i don’t just yell @ me and i’ll just lazily put them on sfs and link them in a reply).

also thank u anon i am glad u like my content! :D

9) omg thank u so much anon that is so sweet of u to say!! truly i don’t feel like i have accomplished a whole lot beyond managing to snag @resurrection-failed​ but that is definitely the Best thing i could accomplish so i am 100% fine w/ that

10) oh ts4. i want to play it real bad but i have discovered that playing games that are still being updated and could break at any moment due to a new patch or ep gives me hives. esp when it’s sims games b/c those are held together exclusively w/ wishes and prayers as it is. they’re like the bottom panel of an expanding brain meme on spaghetti coding. at least when the game is Done there nothing else for EA to break (... right?). plus i only have base+pets and no money to throw at the other expansions so i could maybe download 1/10th of the cc available out there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but i am excited to be late af to the party. lemme tell u. thank u for saying such nice things, anon!! i hope u have a good day also. like, lots of ‘em.

11) hey anon! it’s built into tumblr’s text editor. u type the text first, highlight it, and click on the fourth button that looks like a slouchy figure 8 to insert yr link. i’m not sure if it’s the same on mobile, tho, cuz the tumblr mobile app is self-elected torture.

12) i do not right now but i can make one. idk if it would interest you but i am also doing a big ol’ blend of the hq eyes and wifezaya’s favorite ephemera mist eyes and will make a default version of those too when they are done.

13) nah i am still using my v3 texture for straight hairs and for waves or natural hair i just use nouk’s originals. i’m old-fashioned and boring. if u need help w/ making yr own, tho, i would suggest checking out @furbyq​’s tutorial here!

14) hey friend! i did have plans to do that, in that vague way where i have plans to do many things but most of the time end up taking a five-hour nap under a cat instead or watchin game grumps. luckily, @digitalangels​ is a doll and did it for me so consider this my official endorsement. i am pooklet and i approve this action.

15) hey anon. when did i call it that?? i think usually i just call it marriage or equal marriage if i need to specify (or gay marriage if i’m feelin Spicy cuz nonbinary-for-nonbinary is pretty gay). if i did say same-sex it was probs w/ implied air-quotes since that was the term du jour when we got married, which was 3+ years before the supreme court mandate, when it was only legal in some places and everyone was still ‘‘‘‘debating’’’’ the ‘‘‘‘issue’’’’ of queers gettin all married.

16) i been gatherin’ links for u anon but lemme look around a lil more. i will either give this its own post or add it as its own section in the resource post that is like .... five years overdue. meanwhile if anyone reading this has anything they either know is made for dark skin or works well universally or knows of a list like this that already exists, i would appreciate links!

17) I KNOW THAT’S YOU, AZAYA

[spider-bih]

Algebra II [Peter Parker]

Traces Of You Series [P.4]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, implied sex (briefly mentioned by a side character), mentions of drug use (weed) (not condoning illegal drug use or romanticizing it), angst, shitty writing, etc

A/N: More editing. I half regret how descriptive I got on my OC lmfao.

Part 3, Masterlist, Part 5

"You are the most organized guy I've ever met in my life.", she said, looking over his old Algebra notes with surprise. He was more surprised than her though. He didn't think he'd have last years notes in his mess of a room and he didn't think he'd be able to make his notes seem organized and still make it here on time. He looked organized, but it reality, his room and notes were as hectic as his double life. Peter was just good at keeping up appearances- at least in this case.

"Oh- I'm-I'm not that organized."

"You have a highlighter color code."

"Alright maybe a little- I just.. got..bored." He cringed at how that sounded. Actual nerd.

Her brows furrowed, "Bored? How bored- I'd do anything before I color coded my notes- I barely even take notes, which explains a lot, I guess.."

He just sighed, "So uhm.. where exactly are you struggling?"

She looked over the notebooks he had sprawled along the small table in her apartments little dining room, eyes scanning the pages for a few moments. He just watched her, still wondering if all this was real. He was here, in her apartment, helping her with schoolwork. Three weeks ago, he didn't even know she was a she! Life was unfair- but it was also so weird. One minute, all he knew about his neighbors across the hall was that they constantly wore hoodies- the next, he knows one of them is a stunning girl his age, who needs help in Algebra. Wow-

"Alright, I'll tell you right now, I recognize absolutely none of this shit- except that the dates are from last year- do you even have Algebra II right now?"

He shook his head, "No, I take Advanced Calculus now."

"Calculus? I don't even want to imagine what that's like.."

"It's not that bad-"

"Yeah, for you maybe. Us regulars tend to hate math and usually suck at it."

Peter lets out a little laugh, "Really, it's not that bad. Look, let me show-"

"Parker. I only need help with Algebra II right now. I'm not taking Calculus next year- especially if I fail Algebra II because you wanted to show me Calculus."

He raised his hands in defense, "Alright! Alright. Strictly Algebra. Got it."

"Algebra II.", she corrected.

"Right. Algebra II.", he replied, moving to grab the first Algebra II notebook he'd used at the start of his Sophomore year. Thus starting the very long process.

"I hate this so much. Can't you just teach me enough to let me get a low C? I don't need an A. I'm just trying to pass, man.", she huffed, laying her head on her table.

Peter shook his head, "No. It'd be easier to just learn all you can so it's easier to-"

"I just want help on the things I'm being tested on, Parker."

"That won't help you in the long run and you know it.", he replied.

"It's not helping me now! It's just fueling my want to throw these damn books out my window!", she groaned into her table, hands balling into fists near her head.

So, Peter learned one thing about her by helping her with this. She was absolutely terrible at math- so much so she often confused even him. She kept mixing up problems with the wrong solutions and often got lost while she was solving said problems in the wrong manner. It had been hours and they'd barely gotten through much, if anything at all! The afternoon sun set long ago- and he knew he had to go soon, but by god, he didn't want to. This was frustrating, yes- but there was something about her. Something that made him want to stay- and no, it wasn't because he was seemingly enchanted by her. Yes, he found her to be stunning, but there was more to it than that. It was something he couldn't pinpoint. She was just different, but not in that cliché way. She just truly wasn't like any girl he'd ever met. She didn't go to his school, so she didn't know how much of a nerd he was or how low he was on the social ladder- if he was on it at all. She only knew him as a helpful neighbor- so far.

She was like a new start- a breath of fresh air.

She didn't know him as Penis Parker like everyone else did. Not as the guy Flash liked to torment or the huge loser that geeked out over Star Wars with his best friend. She only knew him as Peter from across the hall. Peter from Midtown. (Peter, the guy who color coded his notes when bored.) Peter Parker, her helpful and okay at Algebra neighbor. It was nice.

"If you throw them out the window, we'll never get through this, and then I'll forever be in debt to you for returning my mail.", he joked, hoping to earn himself a laugh or some sort of positive emotion from her.

She lifted her head to look at him, amusement flickering in her eyes, making him grin softly. Something. "My name is [Y/n]."

[Y/n]. "That's a pretty name..", he wasn't too sure how he didn't stutter through that- he'd just said her name was pretty. MJ would die if she'd heard- she'd give him such shit about it.. Ned too, probably..

She gave a small amused smile, “Thanks?”

Peter didn’t know what to respond to that with. Insist he did find it pretty? Make himself look and sound even more like some cli-

"So, brainiac, how are we gonna get through this? Either I'm really that bad at math, or you're an awful teacher. If both are true, we're screwed and you're stuck being in debt to me forever.", she said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"So I'm not Parker anymore? Bummer, I was getting used to that.", he shrugs, "I can just keep coming over to help you. Eventually I'll find some way of helping you learn this- I mean, if you want, you know. If-If you don't want me-"

"Sounds fine to me, Parker. I can't have you over everyday though. Sometimes my cousin has people over and they get really loud."

"You can come over to my place- if you want. My uh- my Aunt won't mind. It's usually quiet anyways..", he offered.

She stares at him for a moment, but for him it feels like forever. Was it too soon to make that kind of offer- "Okay.", she says. One word- something so simple, but his hearts so excited. "I'm not sure exactly what days he'll be having people over though.. so I'm not sure how we should plan for that."

"Well- uh- you can just text me.." Smooth, Peter. Nice job-

"Yeah. You can give me your number, I'll text you when I need to."

"O-Okay..", he responds, ripping a little piece of blank paper from one notebook he hadn't filled up entirely. He wrote down his number in pencil and slid it her way. Now he was wondering if she was going to give him hers or- his Spider-Sense was going off. Damn- someone was in danger. Now? Of all times?

"Uhm..", he begins, "I uh- I have to go. I have to go grab some things for my Aunt from the store and-"

She waved her hand, cutting him off, "You don't have to tell me your plans. You gotta go, then you gotta go. There's no need to explain anything to me. It was cool of you to even come by and try to help."

"R-Right.. well- you can keep the notes and stuff- you know, so you can go over them on your own if you want? I don't- I don't need them anymore."

She gives him a little half smile, "You just don't wanna clean up after yourself."

"Huh- no! No- I'll clean- I will, really quick-", he starts closing up the notebooks, but her hand grabs his wrist and he freezes instantly. His nerves are going haywire, and his Spider-Sense is not helping. For once, he hates his heightened senses. He hates how he can see, hear and feel everything about this moment. He absolutely loathes that he can feel her hand so intensely against his skin. How easily he can smell her sweet perfume and hear the soft beat of her heart. He especially loathes how this will be on his mind the entire night- or maybe even his entire life.

"You just said you had somewhere to be. I was only joking. Go wherever you need to go, Parker.", she tells him, tone softer than he's ever heard it thus far. Her hand drops his wrist and he finds himself missing her touch- stop being like this..

He just nods, "Yeah- yeah you're right. Thanks.. [Y/n]. Bye." Her name tastes weird on his tongue- but not in a bad way. He kind of likes how foreign it seems- is that weird?

There's something unreadable in her eyes, and it looks like she's fighting back a smile- but why would she- "See you around, Parker."

He's nodding again, and then he's leaving her apartment. His thoughts are racing, his hearts pounding and his Spider-Senses are screaming at him now. He's still standing outside her door- and then he's rushing into his own apartment. He's still thinking about that moment while he suits up. He still feels her warm hand on his wrist while he's webbing some petty mugger up for the cops to find. The smell of her perfume still clings to his sweatshirt as he lays wide awake in his bedroom.

What the fuck is happening? What is this?

TOY Tags [Ask to be added]: @draqcnheartstrinq

Permanent Tags [strikethrough means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you]: @o-brienwrites, @spidergirlwanab, @thumper-darling, @bagginsofbagend, @sammy-holland , @cosmetologynerd , @timelord-sorcerer, @i-love-superhero, @mendes-holland, @dangerousluv1, @malumplaylist, @faithful-music, @melli-chou, @spidey-mantom , @fandom-hq, @thegirlwiththeimpala, @mayroseinneverland, @maggieanne13,  @internetgremlin, @parkerbabeh, @spidey-spooked , @iamwarrenspeace , @djdre92, @sergeantjbuckybarnes, @everythingthatisrandom, @spiderman-2013, @rileyloves5 , @twizzziee, @therealme13posts, @clean-and-claire, @malfoyofthenight,  @peters-vlogs, @leilei-draws , @rmillerartemis, @cassiopeia-barrow,  @valeriasobsessions, @rosescentedblood, @hi-mishamigos, @brightcolorsoffendme, @isabellamozzarellla, @courtneychicken, @technicallycrazyfun, @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire, @wombatholland, 

[misaki-kurenai]

Fluffy Concoction

Word count: 2122 

Pairings: Chocobros/reader 

Rating: General Audience

Read the rest on Ao3

Prompt: The chocobros turn into chocobo chicks one night and you're stuck taking care of them.

I'm not the type to constantly update on tumblr on my latest fanfics, but since this one is a headcanon-type fic, I wanted to share this onto the FFXV headcanon community even though I should've done this sooner

Chapter 1

You examined the Potion flask, meticulously eyeing the fluid inside and the container itself. Opening the lid exposed an unusual scent that you couldn’t define. A mixture of herbs and… wet dog smells? You didn’t trust the potions Noctis bought from the old lady living near the Malmalam Thicket. She gave him a special discount, but you didn’t like the recovery items she had one bit.

There was a rumor circulating around the Hunter HQ that the old woman was a witch, thus forcing the hunters to banish her from civilization. You never did believe in rumors, but the air around her house felt eerie.

You joined Noctis and his friends on the hunt for the giant Bandersnatch monster guarding one of the Royal Tombs. Making your way through the humid and messy jungles, you swat some of the bugs away and crush the humongous bees with your weapons. Managing with a few scrapes and bruises.

When you reached the Royal Tomb, Noctis immediately tossed a Firaga magic flask at the beast and rushed in with his sword. The others joined him, using close combat to tackle the monster. The Bandersnatch stomps and twirls in a circle, smacking the boys harshly against the fallen tree trunks around the area. You kept your distance and managed to dodge in time, then continuously shot your pistol at the creature.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Noctis holding one of the Potion flasks from the old woman and crushing it in his hand. Prompto followed, then Ignis, and Gladio. All four of them used a Potion, regaining their energy and strength. They thrust their weapons into the monster and struck through its tough skin, until it released a piercing screech and collapsed onto the lush grass.

By the time the hunt came to a conclusion, the stars had flourished the dusk skies with its dazzling spectrum. The five of you reached the nearest safe haven near the Regalia and crashed in the tent after enjoying dinner.

That was the last time you remember seeing the boys as humans.

The next morning, you woke to the sounds of small cheeping. A tiny and smooth object brushed against your cheek while something nudged your stomach. Squeezing your eyes, you wake to the sight of a chubby, light brown feathered chocobo chick, wearing what appears to be Ignis’ glasses. Its cute and inquisitive, large black pupils peers at you as it cocks its head. You gushed in fervor of a fangirl and swept the chunky blob in your arms, affectionately rubbing its head with your cheek.

”Oh my gosh, you look so much like Iggy!” you squealed. ”I gotta show him! He would be so shocked!”

You swiveled your head to your stomach to find a similarly chubby chocobo chick with dark brown feathers and a few scars where Gladio had his, on its face. This chick peeped at you at a lower octave and even released a loud belch. Taking the other chick in your arms, you cuddled the two birds and squealed again in pure euphoria.

”You look like Gladdy! Oh, the guys are gonna flip when they see you two!”

After your delight, an idea dawned on you. What if these two chocobo chicks were Ignis and Gladio themselves?

You blinked.

There was no way that Ignis and Gladio turned into chocobo chicks overnight, right?

Panic arose to your chest as you surveyed the area inside the tent.

You’re completely alone.

The boys are nowhere to be seen, but their clothes were strewn about inside.

Chocochick Ignis rubbed his head against your arm then stopped by the opened flap of the tent. It appears that he wanted you to follow him. You cautiously followed the chick to find the other missing chicks near the camping chairs. The yellow feathered chocobo chick ran in circles, as if panicking, while the black chick checked itself then eventually joined the other jumpy chick in anxiety, rolling across the ground on its sides. Your eyes nearly popped from your skull from the sudden realization.

The boys transformed into adorable and chunky chocobo chicks overnight.

You fell under pressure, picking up little Chocochick Ignis in your arms, ”How did this happen?!”

He peeped and shook his head.

Right.

Ignis is a chocobo chick.

He can’t talk.

Your eyes wandered around the safe haven, searching for any person in the proximity. There was no one around. Surely the reason of their transformation couldn’t be because of Ignis’ cooking. Maybe someone sabotaged them while you were asleep, however, why were you not affected?

Heaving a sigh, you carried the camping gear and packed them into the Regalia’s trunk by yourself. When you arrived back to the camping site, the two younger chicks panicked again, running in circles and colliding with one another, while the two older chicks smacked their wings against their small heads in the universal sign of disappointment. You rushed to the fallen chicks and knelt beside them, taking the black and yellow birds in your arms. They were as heavy and big as basketballs, making them easy to carry but difficult to manage.

The two chicks gazed at you with their large black eyes filled with inquiry and anguish. You smiled at them, ”Noct, Prom. I know it’s you two. But don’t worry. I’ll try to get you guys back. I promise.” you stroked chocochick Prompto’s soft head, who blushed under your touch and cooed. Then you scratched Noctis’ equally fluffy head with your index finger, who also blushed at your affectionate touch.

You looked around one more time then sighed. Since Ignis can no longer drive, you have to take the wheel. But where should you start? Maybe recuperating and brainstorming in your apartment in Lestallum could work.

Ignis usually has the top pulled down when he drives, but you drove with the cover on, in case one of the boys flew out of their seats. Chocochick Prompto bounced on his seat, like a child excited for a road trip. The other three stayed put, probably devastated about their new bodies. You could hear endless chirping from the backseat and those cute high-pitched peeps translating into bickering along the entire car ride.

Fortunately, you managed to sneak the boys-turned-chicks into your apartment without any prying eyes. They swarmed inside your apartment like children visiting the mall for the first time. Chocochick Noctis darted for your bed, frolicking in the sheets before crashing into your pillow. Little Prompto tagged along with his friend, jumping on the mattress and playing with his buddy. Ignis situated himself in your kitchen, sitting on the counter top while looking through your spice cabinet. Then the slightly bigger chick Gladio rested on the couch, flipping through whatever books you had lying around. In one second, it looks like the boys are already a handful as little blobs of feathers.

As you scratched your head, you furrowed your eyebrows, planning the next step to revert them to their human forms. You scoured your bag chocked with recovery items, searching for the Remedies. You figured that this condition was a new status ailment, hoping that a simple Remedy would do the trick and bring them back.

Since the prince was the most important, you sat on your bed and grabbed the sleepy chocochick Noctis with your hands, placing him on your lap. He was as big as an adult cat and even hissed at you for disturbing his slumber. You gently stroked his back and scratched the crown of his head with a broad smile on your lips. In this form, he’s cute and doesn’t give you much attitude or sass with words. Maybe keeping them like these wouldn’t be too bad for a little while?

Shaking your head, you brush away those thoughts and held onto the Remedy. You crushed it above small Noctis’ head and watched as the blue specks of light blanketed him. The chubby black chocobo chick shimmered, but as the lights faded, no results came to fruition.

Chocochick Noctis furiously cheeped at you, disappointed with your failed attempt.

Your jaw dropped. The only solution you could think of, didn’t work.

As you slumped your shoulders, chocochick Prompto scurries to your side and comforts you by rubbing his head against your arm. He peeps at you with those adorable and round eyes. Even in chocobo chick form, the blond boy still shines like the sun.

Little Ignis darted towards you, glasses nearly falling from his beak in the process, chirping intensely as if he has something urgent to report to you. You listened to his endearing sounds, perplexed by his message since he couldn’t speak. Chocochick Gladio had to jump in and used his wing to point to his opened beak, indicating that Ignis wanted you to feed them.

Reaching for your bag, you pulled out the Gysahl greens and headed for the kitchen, prepared four plates, then placed the vegetables on the ceramics on the tiled ground. Little Prompto and Gladio happily trotted towards the greens, pecking their tiny beaks at them. Ignis sat on your kitchen counter, drawing your attention to him. He gestures his beak to your spice cabinet. Does he want seasonings for his greens?

You opened the cabinets to reach for the basics: salt and black pepper. When you tried to close the cabinet, he cheeped at you and you reopened it, grabbing the spices that he nodded and approved of. Then you added pinches of each spice until he finally pecked at the vegetables.

The last chocochick to feed was the obstinate prince who despised his greens.

Noctis stood away from the others, defying you by not eating his vegetables. You knew you would have to force him to eat in this form. Kneeling beside the plates, you took a handful of Gysahl greens and approached the black chocobo chick. With a genial smile, you offered the greens to his face, ”Noct, come on. Eat up. Look, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis are eating their vegetables.”

Chocochick Noctis frowned at you, turning away to avoid you. He had no interest in those greens, which wasn’t a surprise. Scowling, you heaved another sigh then picked up the chubby chick, sat on your bottom, then held the greens to his beak.

”Come on, eat your vegetables Noct.” you kept a firm grip around him. ”You can’t eat meat because you’re a chick. It’s not good for you, so eat these, please.”

But he wouldn’t budge.

You exhaled, then leaned your face to look at the black bird’s face, ”What would I have to do to convince you?”

He closes his eyes in response, keeping his stance.

Think.

What would be something human Noctis would be embarrassed of?

With one hand holding your hair behind your ear, you swooped down to the side of Noctis’s face and gave him a quick peck. The chocobo chick jolted on your lap and nearly fainted. The others gathered around their fallen friend, making the chick prince embarrassed to the point of him hesitantly nibbling on the piece of greens in your hand. However minuscule, the prince eating his vegetables made you erupt in euphoric accomplishment.

It looks like the boys turning into chocobo chicks wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[poutypanic]

Finding Purpose Chapter 6

It’s been a while since I have posted this on my Tumblr. Cause I kept forgetting. It’s got six chapters now. You can read them all on AO3:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10529928/chapters/24224508

Fic is rated M, Mild Sexual Content, and Language. Fem!reader

Summary for the chapter: “You and Hanzo adjust to life at Overwatch HQ, with a few hiccups here and there.” 

Summary for the fic: “You’ve been living alone in Hanamura for the past five years, and are content to stay that way. You have a troubled past and have let it isolate you. One night a ruckus is coming from the Shimada Castle. Against your better judgment you check it out, eventually, you end up befriending an archer with a past as equally troubling as yours.This is a romance/fluff and slow burn, coupled with action and angst.”

Standing in the hallway of Overwatch HQ has you feeling small and overwhelmed. You didn’t have a carrier for the dog, so you’re standing there, clutching the poor thing to your chest. You’ve been making a tremendous effort to look tough. And you’re just now realizing that’s the stupidest thing for you to be throwing your energy into. Considering you’re nearly suffocating a small dog to death with your nervous grip.

The welcome into Overwatch isn’t exactly warm or inviting. At least the dog settles in well. She is allowed to roam wherever she’d like and does so. Everyone loves her and accepts her as the Watchpoint pet.

Ana lays out all the rules and what is expected of each of you. She goes on and on about fitness and how the two of you will need to go through training to make sure you’re ready for missions. She says you’ll need to get rid of the “rust” before she trusts you to not die on the field the first time she sends you out. She also states that weapons are not to be taken out into common areas. Unless the facility is under attack, of course.

It’s no surprise that Hanzo is in peak physical condition and passes all of Ana’s tests with flying colors. You, on the other hand, are an entirely different story.

“You are going to have to work on your cardio and agility.”

You groan, “Come on, my cardio isn’t that bad.”

“That bad, is far from good enough.”

Cardio is only fun if you’ve got a destination and a good reason behind it. Every time you start to give Ana a problem with something, Hanzo is standing behind her pleading you to back down with his eyes.

“Alright fine, so how many miles would you recommend?”

She says flatly, “Six. To start.”

“A day!”

“Yes, a day.”

“Is there anything else I can do for cardio that will meet your expectations?”

A boisterous, and light-hearted voice sounds off from behind you, “Did somebody say cardio!”

You look behind you to see a gentleman with a winning smile, and charming good looks. He claps his hands together before offering you one of them to shake, “Hi! It’s nice to meet ya! I’m Lucio!”

Lucio offers Hanzo the same hand. After introductions are out of the way, Ana sighs and crosses her arms across her chest. “No doubt, Lucio, is going to try and sell you on joining his dance class.”

Lucio scoffs, “Now, now! It’s not selling if it’s free!”

“Yes, you are right.” Then she pauses having had a light bulb moment, “It would actually be ideal. Yes, I think his class would be perfect for you.”

You are perturbed. You don’t want to run six miles, and nor do you want to take a dance class. No matter how fun and charming the instructor seems to be. You match Ana’s stance with a hand on the hip, “And why is that?”

Ana is really good at ignoring your attitude, “Dance will help you with both of your biggest weaknesses, cardio, and agility. Two birds, one stone.”

Lucio talks a lot with his hands, and it commands attention without being abrasive. “Come on! I swear, it’s tons of fun! You never know if you don’t like it ‘til you try it huh?”

Lucio clasps his hands together in a begging gesture and gives you a playful pout. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like to be that outward and pleasant. You instantly like him, and it’s rare for you to instantaneously like someone. How could you say no? And what hurt would it cause to try, “Alright fine.”

Lucio then whips his attention to Hanzo to see if he can get one more sign up. Hanzo holds both his hands up and fervently shakes his head; it’s going to be a hard no from him.

That is how you find yourself the next morning in the gym. In a secluded room in the back, with thinly padded floors and mirrors lining the walls. Here is where you meet another agent named Hana. A petite, and equally as boisterous woman, with a bit of bite. It turns out that this “class” thus far has consisted of just Lucio and Hana. This you are actually thankful for, because you were feeling anxious about having to meet several other agents at the same time. This is far less stressful.

You had no expectations coming into this and yet, you are still shocked. The music is fun, and the dancing hits hard and fast. You end up being impressed with yourself. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep up, or match their moves. But you do fairly well for your first time and feel really good because of it. When you think the class is done, Lucio informs you that they’ve got one last thing they always do at the end to “cool down”.

“Alright, sure, what is it?”

Hana looks at Lucio with a mischievous look and rubs her hands together like she’s a cartoon villain, “We gotta do the routine with the chairs!”

You watch in dramatic horror as Lucio and Hana take three chairs from the rooms back wall and position them in a line.

“Uh, what are we doing?”

Hanna shimmies her shoulders at you, “It’s sultry dance time!”

Your eyes widen, “Um no. I think I’m good.”

Hanna stomps her foot, “You will do the sexy dance or the class will never end.”

“What kind of cryptic nonsense was that?”

Lucio comes in with the middle ground, “Come on! It’s lots of fun and once we get the music going, and you’ve got the moves down, I swear you’re gonna feel awesome!”

You’ve already got a blush on your face, but you give in. You really want to be friends with these two, and if you leave now, you’d be putting a hindrance on that. So you watch them, with an increasing blush the farther they get into the dance. The chairs are only there for the very beginning of the dance. After the first few moves, they dramatically get pushed back to make room for the floor moves. You fall to your knees and flip over onto your back, your legs still tucked underneath you.

You watch as Lucio and Hana both effortlessly lift their hips high up into the air, and you can’t help but start giggling.

“I can’t do it.” You say between giggles.

Lucio hits the mat several times, “Get your hips up!”

Hanna colorfully adds in, “You have to thrust like you’re really giving it to somebody!”

You are full on belly laughing now, “Hana please use a nicer example! I can’t deal with that one!”

Hanna shakes her head. Hips still high in the air, “Thrust them hips! Give it to em, damn it!”

Lucio is crying with laughter as well, “She’s gonna axe us to the side and take the six miles of running in a sec.”

Tears are running down your face, “I’m gonna break something!”

Lucio scoffs, “You’re not ninety years old! No excuses! Do it!”

When you finally do get your hips up, they both sarcastically clap for your success. The rest of the moves are still lewd and way beyond your comfort zone, but you get them down. When Lucio can finally add the music into the mix is when it all finally clicks. It still takes a lot for you not to laugh your way through it, but you hit every step, every drop, and lift. Lucio and Hana are goddamn professionals, keeping faces on the whole entire time that say, Yeah I know you want me. You admire them and wonder what it must be like to have that kind of confidence.

When you walk out of the room, heading for the showers, you find Hanzo leaning against the wall just outside the door.

“Hey, how long you been there?”

“Give or take about ten minutes.”

You squint at him, “Did you see any of that?”

He smiles meekly, “A very little amount.”

You feel the embarrassment flood your cheeks stronger than it ever did during the dance, “That’s too much.”

Hanzo was waiting for you, because he wanted to see if you’d come to practice range with him. And of course, you will. That’s how it is for the next month and a half. You do most things together. You practice with your guns, while he hones his archery. You take the tactical classes Ana had put together herself in the library. You eat together, and meet new people together. You’d like to get around to meeting everybody, but apparently, several agents are away on a mission. One of them being Genji.

You’re not one hundred percent sure if Hanzo is upset or relieved by that. If you had to put money down, it would be on relieved. There are times when Hanzo is nowhere to be found, and that is usually when you get to chatting with people. Now, you’re not exactly a social butterfly, but if people put in most of the effort with the talking, you find it easy to either respond, or just listen.

Hanzo isn’t having any of it. He slips away so quietly that often you don’t notice him go. When you guys make your way into the mess hall, Hanzo always chooses the table farthest away from the group. You could sit with the others, but you’d never leave Hanzo to eat alone. Out of all the friendly greetings, there is one agent who’s greeting wasn’t so friendly. And it’s this agent who is really starting to grind your gears. His name is Jesse McCree.

Right from the get go the vibe wasn’t good with him. The meeting was brief and cold. The two of you had only ever spoken to him once. Ever since your meeting, he avoids all eye contact with you and doesn’t like being in the same room as the two of you. Except of course, when it comes to the mess hall. It seems that the room is big enough for him to deem worthy enough to be in with the two of you.

However, there is this thing he’s been doing lately. Every time he walks in the room, he’s got to stare the two of you down. With his cowboy hat low and a scowl on his face, he throws daggers your way. Hanzo doesn’t notice, because his back is always turned to McCree. There is only so much you can take before you start to feel petty and protective. So you’ve started returning the stare down. You’re only able to get away with this for a couple of days before Hanzo catches you.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly choke on the food you have in your mouth, “I- what? Hmm?”

“Don’t play dumb. What’s that look? What are you up to?”

You shrug, because you like to give him a hard time. Also, because you don’t want to tell him. It’d just cause him stress, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes and takes a brief look behind him, “Who over there made you angry?”

You place a melodramatic hand to your chest, “I am offended. I am a very cool headed person. Nothing ever makes me angry.”

You almost make yourself laugh. You fight it back, because he is done with you. You can see it all over his face.

You sigh, “Relax. It’s nothing, seriously. It’s—“

Childish is the right word for the situation, but for some reason, the word is escaping you right now. Hanzo pouts and goes back to eating his food, “I’m not going to beg you to tell me.”

You pout too, “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I already don’t like this.”

Fine. If he insists so much on knowing, then you’re just going to have to tell him. So you do, and he says, “Be better than that.”

“Better than what?”

“Than stooping to his level. Stop. Do not do that anymore, please.”

Hanzo has a sinking feeling he knows exactly why McCree doesn’t like you guys. More so him, and he just doesn’t like you by association. This gives him a terrible pang of anxiety. He feels guilty that someone would dislike you, because of his past wrong doings. It’s the only logical reason behind McCree’s scorn. Every Overwatch agent probably feels this way, and some are better at hiding it than others. Or at least, this is what Hanzo thinks.

You agree to knock it off. It’s for the best, and hopefully, it will release some of the bad tension. But you’re not going to make it easy for Hanzo; that just wouldn’t be in your nature. The next day the two of you are sitting in the same spot, and McCree walks in. He stares you down, and to keep yourself from glaring back, you choose to stare obnoxiously at Hanzo instead. Hanzo, who you’ve found eats a tremendous amount. Is focused on his food and takes a full minute to realize that you are being annoying.

Hanzo sighs, “Yes?”

“I’m not staring at him.” You pause. The smile on your face isn’t sweet, but rather mischievous, “I’m staring at you instead.”

For some reason, Hanzo can’t just let himself enjoy your nonsense. He always has to fight with himself, try to put up a front. Like he needs to be serious and can’t enjoy the lighter sides of things. Or rather, doesn’t deserve to.

He has to fight to keep from grinning, “Stop.”

You don’t stop. You continue to stare at his face. Finding yourself admiring the glowing skin. Despite the under eye circles, indicating that he hasn’t been sleeping well. Along with his sculpted angles.

“You ever notice how many angles your face has? You have all of them, you’re hoggin’ them all. That’s not fair, give some of them up. What do you need that many angles for? Be generous.”

You’re in a mood, full of pent up energy, and no doubt from all the workouts you’ve been getting. Because of this, you could go on, and on. And you do, changing different variations of your sentences and words. Hanzo is bright red in the cheeks and has a tight-lipped grin. He’s had the same mouth full of food since you started and only just now was able to get it down.

“Be quiet, please.”

You’re on a roll, a little animated and loud, “I mean, you’re just so fucking handsome. It’s inappropriate how good looking you are. It’s offensive. I want an explanation. Han? What the fuck is with your face and how it looks. Te—“

At some point during your rant, your hands had ended up back on the table. Without any warning, Hanzo grabs them both, and it instantly shuts you up. Now you are the one with a tight-lipped smile and red cheeks. It’s nice, the way his hands feel tightly wrapped around yours, with that warmth that you crave. You can feel some of the agents at the other table starting to stare. He’s holding on for a reason. Letting you know how the embarrassment feels. This isn’t exactly PDA, but it’s still giving you a wild case of the willies.

“Are you gonna let go or what?”

“Are you going to be quiet?”

You nod and try to take your hands back, but he won’t let you have them. Not that you tried very hard. Or that his grip is now any more than featherweight. You could have them back if you really wanted. Hanzo slowly takes his hands away. All the while, keeping an eye on your face to see if you’re going to start up again.

“Have some restraint,” is his last comment he makes to you before going back to eating his fifth dinner roll, intent on eating six.

Days at Overwatch are currently ridged with routine. For right now it’s not something you mind. It makes you feel more comfortable, because you know what your day has in store for you. You’ve actually found yourself dreading the day Ana approaches you with a mission. So you find yourself back in the mess hall, at the same table, with Hanzo, and you’re annoying him yet again by staring. But today is about to be different, and not for good reason.

“Once upon a time you chided me for staring. I believe the word you used was, rude.”

“How do you get your eyebrows to be that perfect? You literally wake up with them looking like that. I’ve seen it. Is it the dragons? Do they do your eyebrows in the middle of REM sleep?”

Hanzo sighs, and hangs his head, burying his face in his hands. If you didn’t know any better, with the way his shoulders are shaking, you would think he was crying. Maybe he is. Neither of you see McCree approaching. Hanzo is too occupied trying to keep his cool, and you’re too engrossed in watching him. He takes a seat next to you, keeping a safe distance and not saying a word.

You notice him first, and your gut reaction is to stare at him with a disgusted face. McCree waits for Hanzo’s attention before going off on a rant.

“Ya’ know the least you could do is answer your damn brother back. I think a simple answer would be a real nice start. All he’s trying to do is talk to ya’. Sending ya’ messages and tryna’ talk to you via the damn comm. He shouldn’t have teh’ beg you teh’ talk to him. That should be the other way around. You must be a fuckin’ chicken shit. You don’t even gotta talk to em’ face to face, and you can’t manage that much? I think it’s the least you could do, considering, Genji is tryin’ and you should be too.”

The whole entire time McCree is tearing into him. You’re wide-eyed, and desperately looking at Hanzo, begging him, Say something! Defend yourself! McCree is done, so he gets up and leaves. You sit for as long as you can manage, waiting for Hanzo to say something. When he doesn’t, you get up and slid across the top of the table to get after McCree faster. Hanzo’s simple sentence, “Have some restraint,” comes to the forefront of your mind, and you push them away, with a fuck that. If he’s not going to defend himself, then you’re going to have to do it.

Your blood is pumping so fast and hard in your ears that you barely hear Ana yelling after you. It’s too late for that; you’re already gone out the door and at half jog, trying to find McCree.

When you find him he is ready for you, “What do you want?”

“You know what’s chicken shit? Ambushing somebody like that, and then running away before anybody has a chance to say shit to you.”

He ignores your comment and immediately tries to go for a sore spot, “Tell me. What kinda person you have teh’ be, teh’ just let a killer into your home?”

Oh, so they’ve been talking about you guys. It’s not surprising, and you’re not mad about that fact. It’s the fact that McCree has the audacity to stand there and try and use it against you that has your blood beyond the boiling point.

“I saw someone who needed a safe place to sleep, so I offered that.” You get closer to him. You don’t care how much bigger he is than you, you’re ready to fight him, “You could have gone about what you did back there in a much more civil fashion.”

“I think I was pretty fuckin’ civil.”

“No, you weren’t. There was a better time and place, along with a better tone and word choice.” Then you decide to go for a sore spot, “Does Genji know you’re speaking for him?”

McCree’s expression turns dark and dangerous, “That’s none’a your fuckin’ business.”

You scoff, “Sounds like a no to me.”

Ana has found you. She runs up and puts her whole body between the two of you saying, “Alright. That’s enough! Separate, right now!”

You and McCree could throw hypothetical punches all day. You’re both hot headed, protective, and undeniably, hopelessly, biased. Nobody but Ana is in the right today. She doesn’t have to say it twice. You’re done and need to find Hanzo.

He’s disappeared. He’s not in the mess hall, not in his room, the gym, library, or the shooting range. You sit and think, where would an archer hide? And then it hits you, because the answer is so obvious. The roof.

So your goal now it to find out how to get there. After about fifteen minutes of searching, you come to the dismal realization that Hanzo wouldn’t need stairs to get onto the roof. The jerk would have just climbed up there. Finally, out on the small track and field that the facility has, you find a ladder. Even on a thing made for climbing, you nearly fall twice but make it onto the roof safely. Your instincts were right, because there he is. All the way on the other side, cross-legged, and sitting on the edge of the roof.

It’s windy up here. The golden scarf he is always wearing is blowing in the wind, his hair whipping around along side it. He knows you’re there, but doesn’t turn to acknowledge you. Now that you’re up here, you realize you hadn’t thought of a thing to say to him during your search. Oh well, you’ll just have to wing it.

You take a seat next to him and wait to see if he might want to say something first. What he says was not worth waiting for, “Would you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure.”

“Kill me.”

“Okay, now wait a fuckin’ second.” You can’t help but laugh, “Listen, you gotta at least give me a good reason first.”

“McCree is right. I can only begin to imagine what you said to him.”

“There might have been some truth in his words, but Han you didn’t deserve to hear them like that.” You take a deep breath. Getting yourself ready to really get into it, “It that true? Genji’s been trying to contact you?”

He nods and looks away into the sunset.

“I have tried, I swear it. I type up responses. Long ones, and then, I stare at them, unable to send them. When I hear his voice, it feels like knives in my gut. It is so familiar, and yet so different. It’s my fault. It’s that way because of me. The knives are my own doing.”

You swallow a hard lump in your throat. It’s welling up, because you really don’t know what to say. You’ve only got a small piece of advice, “I think you’ll feel a little better if you just send one of them to him. Just get it done. Once the line of communication is open, hopefully, it’ll get easier.”

Hanzo is silent, deep in thought, and trying to gather the courage to take your advice. It’s not coming to him though. He’s feeling helplessly trapped by fear. It’s unrelenting and will not allow him to do what is best.

“Sometimes,” you start. “Anxiety is an asshole, a bitch, a straight up cunt. Maybe you should just let me press send for you? I won’t snoop. I’ll just give that send button the good pressing it deserves and wants.”

His mouth drops open, and for the first time in ten minutes he looks at you, “Vulgar!”

“Don’t change the subject. Let me press it.”

He stares at you confused, but aware that you are trying it.

“Lemme press your send button.”

“Stop.”

“You know, you tell me to stop a lot.”

“I think that says more about you than it does me.”

“What? All I’m saying is you should let me press it. What’s wrong with one person pressing another persons send button?”

There it is, the little upturn of his lip that lets you know he’s trying not to be amused. “Does your mind ever cease?”

“No, and seriously, is there anything I can do to help you?”

“You have helped enough.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. You scoot closer to him, pressing your arm to his, and laying your head down on his shoulder. Hanzo takes a hold of your hand and pulls it over onto his knee. The sunset is especially beautiful with, greens, purples and blues, all weaving into each other. Big fluffy clouds that are like cotton candy, as if you could reach up and grab it right out of the sky. The air is crisp and refreshing, clearing your mind, and coaxing you into feeling tranquil.

Hanzo’s thumb runs across the top of your hand, “May I ask you a question?”

You nod against his shoulder.

“How have you been sleeping?”

You shrug.

“There’s a renowned doctor here. Perhaps she could help you.”

If you didn’t have a fear of medication, and an unhealthy mindset that it would be weak of you to take them, you might have considered it.

“I don’t know about that.”

“It worries me. Ana could give us a mission anytime. You shouldn’t go into such dangerous situations deprived of something as essential as sleep.”

“Hmm,” you really don’t want to see Angela about this.

Hanzo gently lifts your chin up, so that you are looking at him. You’re a fool for teasing him so much, because he knows your weakness now. He has your gaze, has you trapped in his warm brown eyes. He speaks soft and low, his voice smooth and deep. It’s nearly hypnotizing.

“It’s not only a danger to you, but to the people who are counting on you to have their back. Don’t you want a decent sleep schedule?”

You hear him; you really do, and of course, you’d like to be able to sleep regularly. You don’t have an answer, because you’re unashamedly gazing at his plush lips. They’re giving you tingles in funny places. You hum, and sigh through your nose.

He says, “Relationships are about compromise, yes?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Let’s make an agreement. You go and see the doctor, and I will send Genji a message, tonight.”

That’s a deal you can’t refuse, “You got it.”

Hanzo now rubs his thumb across your bottom lip. The way it parts ever-so-slightly from your top one has his core warming up. He kisses your top and bottom lip individually, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. He’s thinking about pushing you back onto the roof, about using his mouth to pull moans from you. He’d like to know what they sound like. He wonders if you are loud, or quiet and restrained. He smiles to himself as he thinks the word, restrained. As if you’d be restrained, but then again, you could surprise him.

Still grinning, he kisses you again. This time with an increased amount of passion. The moan that Hanzo wants to hear almost escapes your throat, but gets caught between an intake of breath and the little bit of tongue that is playing at your lips. The warmth from your tongue sends Hanzo’s thoughts into whole new unchaste places.

When Ana interrupts the moment, you nearly fall off the roof, because she scared the hell out of you. Ana ignores that the two of you were just making out on the roof, like two teenagers who don’t have anywhere better to do it, and gets right down to business. You have a brief conversation with Ana, she was worried the two of you might be thinking about leaving. No. As of right now, you’re both not going anywhere. She is glad to hear it, and informs you that a week from today you’ll be going on your first mission.