#i wish we got to have more zen in this chapter

[sabraeal]

The Sword Between, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Blue silk settles over her like an estranged acquaintance; two years ago it had fit like a second skin, but now it squeezes at the bust and requires far fewer petticoats to pad out her hips. The hem, however, settles perfectly— a finger’s breadth above the the floor, just as it always had. A terrible way to learn she hasn’t grown a single, vertical inch since seventeen. Makiri will be practically unlivable.

“Such a pretty color, my lady.” Ami’s hands smooth over the skirt, coaxing out the creases that linger at her waist. Haki is half-tempted to tell her not to bother; it’s a fabric that begs to be rumpled, the furrowing above her hips only serving as a reminder of how hands might sit there, silk wrinkled in their grip. Of how easily it might crumple beneath the slightest pressure, like petals plucked from a flower's stem.

The last time she had worn this dress, she'd been more concerned about whether her prince might find her singing voice pretty, or hear rumors of her fair face and be tempted to sneak north simply for a glimpse of it than what an enterprising young man and a willing young lady might get up to in Wilant's dark corners. But Lowen had been her age now-- older, if she does not mistake her figures, though not by much-- and more than ready to contemplate such arrangements. Had he thought of it even as he knelt before her, head bowed in deference, swearing to protect her body with his own? Had he gazed up at her with that that placid mask of his, still as a lake's surface, and felt the first ripples of--?

“His Highness will surely think it suits.”

Haki's secretive smile sours to a pout. “I look young.”

Feels young is more like it, fingering the fall of lace at her décolletage. She’d been little more than a child the last time she donned this particular frock, and it’d been a season out style even then, the seamstresses of the city unable to keep up with the rush to raise bust lines and drop hemlines and overhaul sleeves altogether. But she had been proud of this one, so unlike the other gowns father had gotten for her— practically modern and made with silk bought off Tanbarunian traders instead of salvaged from one of Mother’s old gowns. A fairy tale of a dress, a dream, and...

And she’d put it away with all the others when the first prince had made clear he was in no rush to settle down with a lady wife. Yet here she was now, trotting it out to spin another story for a child even younger than she. There was poetry in that, perhaps, even if it was only the sad kind.

“Boys like His Highness do prefer a youthful lady,” Ami muses, gaze meeting hers in the mirror. “At least, if he’s naught but sixteen, as your father’s man says.”

Haki hardly misses the stress on that— your father’s man. As if she could not lay the same word's at Ami's feet-- her father's maid, paid to make sure all of her most embarrassing escapades ended up in the duke's ear.

“A pity there’s no time to have me done up in ringlets.” Fine hairs flyaway from the loose braids behind her ears; she smooths them down. “It would have made for a much more convincing ingénue.”

Ami is not the sort to smirk or sneer, but there is a twitch at the corner of her lips, a wryness that not even her scrupulous good manners can smother. “You are hardly old enough to need tricks for that, my lady. Sir Lowen is right” —as much as she is loath to admit it now, her sigh says— “it would be little hardship to fall in love with you in this dress.”

She doubts that this prince will be moved to devotion by a frock near three years out of date or by the older woman wearing it, but she must admit-- there is some charm left to it. The blue brings out the palest shades of her eyes and complements the most honeyed tones in her hair; a far cry from the humble damsel awaiting her rescue, but a fairy tale princess nonetheless.

“One can hope,” she breathes, hand splayed over the fabric at her belly. “Or at least fair enough to inspire some foolishness.”

Ami hums; a melody that swings between agreement and agitation with every note. “Certainly more reasonable men have made themselves fools for you.”

It’s a pointed remark, for all that she can’t think of a single one. The men who frequent Wilant are friends of her father, old enough to have children her own age. Few of them spare her a glance, save if they have a son her age, though those have been few and far between since her betrothal. There are soldiers of course— guardsmen who care more about Makiri’s skill than her conversation— and servants, but none that—

“Is there anything else I’ll be needing to take care of, my lady?” Ami asks, solicitously smoothing out the lace at her shoulder. And yet her gaze fixes elsewhere in the mirror, somewhere over Haki’s shoulder. The door to the sitting room, as if she’s waiting for someone to walk through. A ridiculous worry with Lowen guarding the door. “Anything that needs an extra cleaning?”

Her gaze cuts towards where the dressing screen sits, toile covered in scenes of young ladies picnicking and small dogs running over picturesque stone ruins. There’s not a stain on it, as cream-and-teal as it was the day she’d had it brought it, hoping that it might help keep the heat in around her—

Her bed. A pertinent question for a maid to ask after she had been sent away for the night, assured that there would be another set of hands to help her charge undress. Who had only seen a rumpled mess of sheets when she arrived in the morning, fire lit by an expert’s hands. And now with whatever she had seen in the hall…

Well, if she had thought her reflection young before, her flush makes it positively childish now. “N-no. There’s no need to—”

It’s mortifying to try to put the night into words. How close she had trod to impropriety, only to be rebuffed. How sure she was of his interest even so, only for yet another prince to put himself between them. Oh, if that Bergatt boy put himself before her right now and asked if she would like to see the end of the Wisteria reign, she could hardly be responsible for the answer she might give.

A practiced breath draws her upright, shoulders square as her father had taught her— you are my daughter, he would grunt, holding them straight in his hands, there are few to whom you must bow, and none to whom you must bend. It is not a sweet young princess that looks back at her in the mirror, but a lady of the North, ready to defend her walls.

“There is nothing with which you must concern yourself with,” she says with all the ice her blood can summon. “I think you will find your hands full already, trying to find more dresses that will please His Highness during his stay.”

“As you say, my lady.” Ami bows her head, as a servant ought, but it does little to conceal her smile— or her relief. “Though I’m sure there will be quite a few, if I look among some of your older wardrobe.”

It takes a concerted effort not to grimace. She too had been a more whimsical girl once, as taken with fairy stories as she was with the old lays, dreaming of knights and their ladies. Of princes disguised and true love’s kiss. “They will need to be retrimmed.”

“Of course.” There’s a fondness as Ami lays her hand on a trunk, a wistfulness Haki cannot quite understand. “I’ll see to it.”

“Good.” She steps down from the mirror with a sigh, her dress rustling after her like leaves in the underbrush. “I’ll need all the help I can get.”

*

Lowen is on his feet when she sweeps into the parlor. Odd; for all his much vaunted skill in the ring— a beast with a blade in his hand, Makiri had always told her, like he’s fighting for his life— her guardsman always seemed more apt to lounge than lunge outside it. And yet as he stands there, attention drawn to the angle of her entrance, his weight shifts in a way that implies movement rather than repose.

“Come.” It would be simple to brush too close as she passes him, to let their eyes meet in a gaze so heavy it might well be a caress, but she bustles past instead, careful to keep even the barest hint of ruffle from slipping over his boots. “My father calls.”

It is not until her toes cross the carpet’s edge that she realizes their are no footfalls behind her, that Lowen has not fallen into step, using that rangy stride of his to eat up the distance between them. No, when she glances over her shoulder, he is still where she last left him, hands curled to fists at his side.

“Sir.” There is a layer of reproach as she speaks, covering the concern beneath it. “He is waiting.”

His fingers twitch, the barest flinch. “Are you certain?”

Haki does not turn to him— that would be a concession too far, a confession with a dearer cost than she can afford— but her shoulder does lower. “That Father waits?”

“No.” Lowen hardly allows a thought to stray across his face, let alone wears his heart on his sleeve, but there is something that lurk beneath the gaze he fixes on her, a castigation and a plea all in one. “That it is wise to bring me.”

A princess does not allow her mouth to thin, does not let her eyebrows angle to imply impatience; a good thing, then, that Haki is not one yet.

“Sir, if there is anything that I am certain of, it is that.” She shifts— not a ceding of ground, but a firming of resolve. A planting of her feet, gaining better leverage to yank on his leash. “Come. You would not have your lady go to battle without her knight.”

Still, he remains unmoved. Not even the barest sway to show he’s heard her.

“Is that what this is?” he says after a long moment. “A battle?”

Her mouth works for a moment, uncertain. “What else can it be? If my father were to bend any more…”

Then the North would be broken. On one side would be the ones who still clung to Father’s prudence, who would see profit in playing Wistal’s games, and on the other—

Well, it had been said once that the stones between Wilant and Oriold would never wash clean. That even now, when the snows melt, the side of the roads run red. The lords of the North may play at civility now, nodding at the southern court’s fashion of love and courtly graces, but that only hides the histories written with bloodied hands.

Lowen breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he takes it in, but when they open—

There is steel there. A resolve that does not waver. “Then let us go to battle, my lady.”

*

She is too aware of Lowen as they make their way through Wilant’s halls; aware of how his gaze lingers on her, tracing the fall of lace along her collar and dragging down the silken curve of her waist. Aware of the space between them, just enough for an arm to reach across and grab, for the inches to disappear between them and to finally finish the conversation Ami had so unfortunately interrupted.

It’s tempting to turn, to catch his eyes and invite the sort of resolution it would bring. But even though his stare burns hot enough to catch her alight, he does not speak. Not a single word to draw her attention, not a single brush of skin against skin to call her to him. Although her legs tremble effort with the effort to keep putting one slipper in front of the other and her neck aches from keeping it angled straight ahead, he does not stop her, not once.

It is too important, she realizes. For all that she wants to clutch at Lowen’s shoulders and ask just what thought churn behind that stare of his, it is a distraction she can ill afford. Her father’s plans are balanced on a blade’s edge, and it is her who decides which way their fortunes tip.

She will not disappoint him.

It is still Arleon guards on the door to the great hall, and they move aside before she even utters, “My father is expecting me.”

A single step inside is enough to know why: the prince’s party has already arrived. Still covered in the dust from the road by the looks of it, harried and eager to be shown to the privacy of their chambers. By the wary angle of the royal guards’ shoulders, Father and Makiri have resorted to thin excuses to keep them here. Waiting for her.

With a steeling breath, she nods to the footman at the door. “Lady Haki,” he announces, the slightest tremble in his voice. He’s not used to such esteemed visitors, it seems. “First daughter of his lordship, the Duke Arleon.”

If she thought she might have trouble picking out the prince from among all this white and blue and broad shoulders, she is saved the trouble; his party drops to show the deference due to a duke’s daughter, leaving only a single one of them on his feet.

The queen consort had sent her a gift once, during the months in which her father and the king dickered over the finer points of her betrothal of the first prince— a miniature, done fully in oils, of Izana himself. Long engagements may be prudent, she had written in her elegant hand, letters looping across the page, but they often are lonely. Let this satisfy both your company and your curiosity.

He could not have been more than fifteen, maybe sixteen when he had sat for the portrait, but even so, there was a gravity to that narrow face, a piercing quality to the deepness in his eyes. A regal tilt to his pointed chin, a knowing that lingered in this corners of his mouth; strangely serious for a prince who would become more known for parties than policy. Not yet a man, but she could see the one he would make once the last of childhood was stripped from his cheeks.

What they have sent her now is hardly more than a child.

His brother’s portrait might have hinted at manhood, but this boy— his face is still round, baby fat still clinging stubbornly to his bones. Perhaps there is a threat of a heavy jaw lingering there, a promise of something masculine and square opposed to Izana’s more feminine angles, but it is impossible to tell beneath those full cheeks, flushed and flawless as a doll’s. His hair is cut the same way of his brother’s, but instead of falling with a stately sort of grace across his forehead, it is a dandelion’s tuft, baby-fine and untamed.

“Ah, Your Highness.” Father’s gaze holds hers for a long moment before it drops to the would-be heir,  meeting his wide eyes with no hint of his displeasure. “You have yet to meet the reason for all our celebration, I assume. Haki” — his hand sweeps out, beckoning— “come. Greet our honored guest.”

She doesn’t not so much walk as float down the runner of the Great Hall, skirts swaying as if it is only clouds that ruffle their hem, not carpet. It takes hours of practice to turn that which is earthly to the ethereal, but Haki had long shouldered every ache and tumble in the name of causing her prodigal husband to swallow his tongue at the altar.

There is something far less satisfying about inspiring the same reaction in his brother. “It is an honor that you have come for so humble an occasion, Your Highness.”

“Of course.” His voice is reedy, not quite finished changing even if she can hear the man in it. It breaks at her flawless curtsy, flustered. “I mean, the honor is mine. It is hardly every day that we can celebrate such a fine young lady becoming a woman.”

It’s the sort of thing a fond uncle might say, not a boy four years her junior, but Haki smiles nonetheless, hoping it does not sit as stiff as it feels. “You are too kind, sir.”

“Not at all,” he insists with a graciousness that would seem more natural on a man three times his age. “It is its own sort of accomplishment. To be, er…”

“Twenty.” When Makiri smiles it is all teeth, a wolf scenting blood on the snow. “That’s how old my sister is. Old enough to get married now, according to your southerners, isn’t it?”

The prince is too earnest— and his skin far too pale— to cover the flush that blooms up his neck, painting him pink from collar to brow. “T-that is true. But, erm…” His gaze casts about, trying to find a safe place to perch. “Ah, b-but I haven’t yet introduced my party. Sirs…?”

One of the men rises— dark hair shorn short enough that she can see a neck as brown as a laborer’s, far from the lily white of the noble son knelt beside him. He unfurls to a startling height with the same lassitude as the castle’s cats, as if he was only ever on his knees because it pleased him to do so. There’s a cant to his mouth that only supports the implication, but when she raises her eyes to meet his eyes—

She flinches. There’s a scar there— a gouge, badly healed, that stretches from cheek to cheek.

“Sir Zakura Shidnote, my lords— and lady.” He nods at her, mouth tilting toward a smirk. “Lately of the Royal Knight’s Circle. And this is Sir Michel” — his hand cuts toward the noble son getting to his feet, a boy just about Makiri’s age, though he carries it better— “one of the more promising squires from our last bout of new blood.”

“I’m a knight, really,” the young man insists, pushing back the hair that’s flopped over his eyes. “Though I am, ah…new, my lord.”

“Just earned your accolades, is it?” Father may not be a man of smiles, but his eyes crinkle at the corners, warm. “My son—”

“Earned them two year ago,” Makiri interjects acidly, brows bent in his most surly scowl. As if that would help him look any older than his scant years.

Practically a veteran, she almost says, but there is not enough wide-eyed sincerity in her to cover the bite. As much as she might like to tease, she hardly needs to be reminded: they are not among friends.

“Just so.” Father squints the way he does at their accounts, tallying up the men before him. “Did you not have another man in your party?”

“Ah, yes, Sir Mitsuhide.” The prince's mouth pulls thin before he recollects himself, grimace turning to boyish grin. “My apologies, I had hoped for all of us to be here to greet you, but time was short, and there was an issue with our…baggage. We left him to sort it out with your staff.”

Father’s mouth turns stern. “Then should it not be I who apologies to you, Your Highness? If there was some issue, then surely—”

“Ah, no no! This was, er…our fault,” His Highness insists, oddly guilty. “I’m afraid my mother insisted on one last gift, even after all the carriages had been packed tight! It changed…quite a lot of our travel plans.”

“I see,” Father murmurs, though it’s quite clear he does not. He is not a man of last-minute anythings, let alone travel plans.

“But he will be here for the formal reception, of course!” The prince smiles, bright. “He wouldn’t miss it— he’s a northerner, trained at your very own Sereg.”

“Sereg.” Now her brother straightens in his seat, an excited sheen in his eyes. “So he’s skilled, then?”

“Some,” Sir Zakura drawls, a corner of his mouth creeping up his cheek. “Enough that the king requested him by name.”

“By name…?” Now it is her father who leans in, brow furrowed. “You cannot mean— Mitsuhide Lowen?”

The prince nods, pleased. “The very same.”

“I’ll be damned.” Father settles back in his seat. “I nearly asked him here, before His Majesty snapped him up. He was one of Sereg’s finest swords. ”

Sir Zakura smirks. “And now he is one of Wistal’s.”

“Lowen?” Haki keeps her voice low, pitched for only her and her shadow to hear. It's a curious coincidence, considering how closely her knight has always played his card to the chest. “Is there any relation to…?”

Her chin tilts, hoping to catch his eye-- or at least the angle of his mouth, but--

But when she slants her eyes to his usual place at her shoulder, there is nothing behind her but empty air.

[yunyunrin]

Chapter Two : Holy Fool

genre : horror, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, alternate universe, slow burn

pairing : angel!reader (gn) x kingofhell!???, other side pairings

chapter warnings : arguing, crying, flashback, panic attacks, religious themes, yandere themes, anxiety

wc : a bit over 10k

A/N : here we go!!! everything from here on out is going to be a bit more fast paced so i’m excited for that 😣 and i finally got the motivation to edit! if i left out any warnings on accident let me know!

MDNI

holy fool masterlist | chapter one | next

“Glory be to God, Amen,” you recite to yourself as you finish your prayer, quickly looking around to find a familiar face.

“Angel Blossom!” Poppy shouted a little ways away from you as she walked towards you after the prayer, granted her choice of volume garnered some stares from the other Angels. Poppy didn’t seem to mind though. As long as the prayer was over, it was okay to be happy in the prayer hall.

“Hi my darling Poppy, how are you today?” you asked. Poppy seems to be in a cheery mood tonight, more so than usual.

“I should be asking you that, Blossom,” Poppy replied. You know what she is talking about, tonight is when you head back down to Earth for your first assignment. You haven’t been back down to Earth since that night all those years ago. Not even thinking about the content of that night since a day or so after you returned to Heaven after the fact. Listening to Poppy was most important to you then, and it is the same now. Although you are having much more trouble not thinking about it since Angel Zen has told you about your impending assignment a few weeks back.

“I’m doing okay, nervous,” you respond. You and Poppy have now made it back to your shared room.

“It’s okay to be nervous, it is your first assignment. You will do well. Come on, let's go wash off before we head out,” Poppy ushers you quickly out the room once you gather your clothes towards the communal showering area. You both walk in and there is no other Angel there. Everyone has washed off already, but you and Poppy are washing off again.

Poppy and Angel Zen are still the only ones who know of your past as a human. In the years since becoming an Angel, you’re allowed to be around the others now, but you choose not to be close with them. Of course, you’re cordial, but you couldn’t risk them finding out anything, so you stick to Poppy. You’re truly grateful for Poppy, you don’t know what you did to deserve her. One day, you told her that when you were alive, you would take hot showers when you were stressed or nervous and ever since then when you are nervous or stressed, she takes you straight to the showers to relax.

Initially you never thought you’d be able to get used to the new life you had, thinking that your experience on Earth would make you too bashful for some of the things that Angels are accustomed to. Quickly it became something you got used to. For example, the communal showers do not have any dividers; you’re seeing everyone the way that they were made, but it wasn’t weird. You and Poppy have had many conversations over the years as you washed yourselves like you are now, but it is no different from the talks you have when you are in the comfort of your shared room.

“Your assignment, the family has had two more kids since you have last seen them. A three-year-old and a newborn,” Poppy informs you as she walks to the mirror to get a better look at drying her hair with her towel.

This hurts your heart a bit, you know not everyone has a bad life but from what you have learned in the past couple of months from Poppy, this situation was not too good. You wish you could give the mother the strength to leave, but your focus is on the children and your only job is to protect them to the best of your ability.

“Thank you for telling me, Poppy. Where are you going for your assignment tonight?” You question because Poppy herself is also getting a new assignment tonight.

“I’m going to Cana-da-da-da,” Poppy laughs at you, “apparently they are a sweet family. The grandparents live with the family and one of them will be getting diagnosed with cancer soon. I will be there long enough to help with the blow it will bring to the grandchildren,” she drops her shoulders once the information leaves her mouth. Poppy is a very emotional Angel that always takes things to heart. That is what makes her different from many of the Angels you have encountered. The others aren’t often phased by what they see, just doing their assignments and coming back to pray. A routine they have perfected over time, but Poppy is unique. You’ve had to comfort Poppy a lot because she feels everything from everyone around her.

Once you and Poppy are done washing off, you return to back to your bedroom. “Listen to me Blossom, everything will be okay with the kids. They are strong, I wouldn’t lie to you,” Poppy stated before you both were about to take your leave. “You will be okay, I promise. You can always talk to me through your bond and I will come in a second, now go to those kids,” Poppy pats your back, and you nod at her before transporting to the home of your assignment.

—

It’s been four years since the air of the Earth has hit your skin. The family from four years ago lives in a new place now, as you transport yourself in the entryway you take in the surroundings of their space. It’s small, a kitchen/dining area, a small living room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Poppy’s words are replaying in your mind as you walk to the children’s room. “You’ll be okay Blossom,” you mumble to yourself. The room is small, a bunk bed and a crib. The kid you last saw four years ago taking the top bunk while the toddler is on the bottom bunk, and obviously the baby is in the crib. You move to get in the bed with the toddler, cradling him in your hold. Poppy told you that is what she did, as he is prone to nightmares and this is all that helps.

The children are asleep, and the house is quiet, which leaves you with one thing to do. Think. Four years ago. You physically cringe at the memory and your stupidity. You are certain that if Poppy’s hair wasn’t permanently a bright golden color that it would have grayed instantly that night.

You’ve learned a lot since then, you could understand why Poppy was worried. Even if you had brushed against the man, you would have been a fallen Angel that instant. That goes for touching any non-human unless they are an Angel or a child under the age of twelve. Also witches, even the human ones. You didn’t really understand the witches, though, you knew some who practiced when you were alive, and they were some of the kindest people you knew. But that’s the rules, and you can’t do anything about that.

You still didn’t know anything about the Kings of Hell. You couldn’t genuinely ask because to every other Angel in Heaven, you already knew. Angel Zen was not someone you wanted to talk to more than you had to, and you knew how Poppy felt talking about them. You just hated feeling ignorant, your ignorance is what put you and Poppy in danger in the first place.

Although you feared how the family would fare during your shift, you were more afraid of seeing him. You know it is not a sin to find people attractive, but is it when they are a King of Hell and you’re a Guardian Angel? His sharp jawline and the singsong voice he used when he spoke to you, “shut up Blossom,” scolding yourself for thinking of him. He has definitely forgotten you by now and if he did remember you, it is because you were a Heavenly being who didn’t know he was a King of Hell.

Morning comes quickly, and your assignment shift is almost done. The kids slept soundly, now there is one thing left to do before you go back. Pray over the children. You fall to your knees in front of the window of the room and put your hands together, “God, please protect this family, —” Cinnamon. Cinnamon fills your nostrils and your hands start to tremble. “No, not now, please not now,” you say to yourself before finishing your prayer.

The smell of cinnamon and the feeling of his eyes on you has not left since the beginning of your prayer. This can’t be happening, you think to yourself as you walk to the kitchen, hoping that their mother is cooking breakfast with cinnamon or perhaps lit a cinnamon scented candle? You enter the kid’s room defeated as neither was happening. The feeling of him is strong, but you can’t see him. But you aren’t looking, your eyes have been tightly shut since you entered the room, finding solace again with the toddler. Instead, hoping that this time your nightmare will go away, but it does not.

“I know you are there but please not today. Please — leave me alone,” you begged into the thick tension of the room. You weren’t expecting it to anything, especially for the presence to dissipate as soon as you were finished speaking. He let you off the hook today, and for that, you are grateful.

—

As you enter back into Heaven you find yourself going straight to the showers in hopes that Poppy has already been back and showered, but as you walk in you see that that was, in fact, not the case. Poppy looks like she has not started showering yet, but the only available spot was right next to her. It isn’t like you would rather not see her, you did want to see her. But you can’t tell her that you felt him. She still hasn’t mentioned that night even when she saw your nervousness before your assignment. Could she have truly forgotten?

You make your way beside Poppy and turn the showers on, warm water instantly hitting your skin. You aren’t sure how the Earth changes your scent, but you know that it does. Even if it is a little bit. “Blossom, how was your first night on assignment?” Poppy questions, the suds from her shampooed hair falling down the side of her face.

“It went well, they had a pretty good night, thankfully,” you answer politely, not meeting her gaze.

“I’m glad. You smell not like how I did when I came back from their assignment?” Poppy inquires. You can feel her eyes on you, and you begin to feel small under her gaze.

“What do you mean?” you ask, hoping that your ignorance will help you with the incoming questions that you know you will receive from her.

“You smell like cinnamon. How come?” her voice is noticeably down a few octaves. Shit, she is on to you. You immediately start thinking of an excuse, anything to save your ass.

“Right before I left for assignment, their father used the bathroom, I’m assuming his stomach had gotten upset from something he consumed the night before. Before too long, the whole apartment was smelling… Not good. His wife woke up a short time after and lit a candle, probably cinnamon,” you chuckle to yourself and move to rinse your hair, “I’m thankful she did, if she didn’t, I would likely smell a lot worse…” you told Poppy, hoping that your lie was enough to fool her.

Poppy nods her head and the rest of the time you and her spend showering was met with silence. After your shower ends, you go to your room to make sure you have everything you need for your prayer. Some Angels take holy books to pray, others take holy memorabilia, others take nothing. It just depends on the mood and the Angel. Tonight you opt to take a holy book while Poppy just makes sure she looks presentable enough to walk into the prayer hall. ‘You know you can tell me anything, Blossom’ Poppy shares with you through your bond. You look at her and smile, showing that you understand and that you will. Your second lie in Heaven tonight, wow you really are the best Angel, sighing to yourself at the hidden thought.

You and Poppy walk shoulder to shoulder into the prayer hall before going to your respective spots. You and Poppy cannot pray together in the prayer hall due to the difference in your ranks. You are the lowest ranked Angel, while Poppy is a few ranks higher than you are. The prayer hall is beginning to fill with Angels which means the official prayer will start soon, but that does not stop other Angels for beginning to pray earlier. You have been in his prayer hall continuously for the past few years, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. The hall is long in length and width, plated with pure gold. The floors are marble and there are cushions of red velvet that act as a barrier for when you fall to your knees during prayer. Contrary to your belief beforehand, there are no statues of Angels because wouldn’t that be weird? Apparently.

The orchestra music pauses, causing you to come back to reality from your thoughts. A high ranked Angel, like Angel Zen for example would start off the prayer and then the remainder of the time Angels would pray about what you feel you needed your attention, or God’s attention. You had three things you wanted to pray on. The first was your ability to lie in Heaven, your faith itself, and —. You pause your last thought. Your prayers go directly to God, and you aren’t sure you want God to know about this yet. But if God is all knowing, then you shouldn’t have to pray about it anyway, right?

After your years of being an Angel you’d expect to be a fierce believer of God, but you are not. You took steps further than you had when you first became an Angel but probably not as much as Poppy would hope. You believe in God, but you don’t feel the need to worship him, you know he exists but is he really worthy of your worship? What makes him more worthy of it than Lord Hades or Lady Athena? This is how you were different from the thousands of other Angels in the prayer hall, you believed in every God’s existence. Your belief would render you an Omnist Pagan, which is why you could never speak of it. That’s why your best friend Poppy could never know that the Angel she worked to help become a pious God-fearing Angel, was a Pagan. During times and thoughts like this you wish you had Dina, where you could speak freely.

—

Although you believe this way, you have a tremendous amount of guilt. You were given a second chance by people who worship God and you could not even worship him in which others feel he deserves. Lying in a space that it was forbidden to lie, and no one was the wiser. You sat here during prayer and prayed the best way you knew how to change the way you thought, to think like Poppy. That’s what you prayed for. But year after year, nothing changes and occasionally, you don’t feel bad. You’re praying about it, so now it’s out of your hands. You know it truly is not, but that thought helps to keep the guilt from consuming you entirely.

Before you know it, the prayer is over and Poppy is making her way to you. The walk back to you and Poppy’s shared room is quiet but comfortable. You walk in first, and Poppy follows and closes the door once she enters. You sit at your respective beds, allowing your bodies to truly rest after the long night of your assignments and the prayer that followed it.

“What do you intend to do today?” Poppy asks cheerily.

“I think that I will sleep for a couple of hours, then clean for a bit, and I think that I will also read some scriptures. How about you?” you ask while glancing at the Angel.

“I think I will go down to Earth for a bit and bring the holy feel to a couple of churches. You know you don’t have to sleep, right? Angels don’t need to sleep to function,” Poppy clarifies, like you didn’t already know. Ever since becoming an Angel and after those first couple of nights, you truly haven’t been tired, but you still sleep. It helps pass the time and if you’re being honest, you hope that one day you will dream. It hasn’t happened, but every so often you wish that you would be allowed to live the way you wanted through your dreams, but you have not been granted that wish.

“Yes Poppy, I know. It is just something I miss from Earth, it’s grounding. Plus, I only do it for a couple of hours. It isn’t like I do it and then wake up to pray and go to assignment. I guess it is a guilty pleasure, you could say,” you retort back

Poppy doesn’t seem too amused with your response, but you were being honest. Sleeping for a couple of hours wasn’t hurting anyone. “Praying is grounding, Blossom. And that guilty pleasure is what we’d call a sin on Earth,” Poppy jitters, her fists clenched.

“Napping isn’t a sin for people on Earth, Poppy,” you clap back while massaging your temples, your voice beginning to sound volatile.

“It is when you nap and aren’t tired that is what God would consider Sloth, Blossom. Don’t try to tell me what is and what is not a sin. Don’t forget who—” Poppy cuts herself off before saying her last bit, looking up at you with glossy eyes at the thought of what she was about to say to you.

“Is the real Angel,” you say, finishing the sentence that she was going to say. Poppy doesn’t normally share her thoughts with you, opting to keep them to herself. But at that moment, she was too angry to keep herself in that white bubble that she finds comfort in.

“That isn’t what I meant, I’m sorry I thought that. We all struggle, we are all tempted. Every Angel is, if we were not there, would be no fallen Angels. Although what I said about the sin being considered Sloth was true, I really cannot judge you for it, as what I struggle with the most is wrath. You have seen it more than I’d have liked. Please forgive me, don’t take what I say out of anger as truth. Only you know your true intentions, all we can do is try to be better. It doesn’t all happen at once,” Poppy says with an apologetic tone. You can’t lie that what she said and thought didn’t hurt your feelings, but you knew she was sorry. You know that much. If you had seen half of what she has seen, you would likely struggle with wrath too. After the argument, you feel nonverbal, so you opt to go and give her a hug to show her that you aren’t mad. You both stay like that for a while, and for once, Poppy lays with you. You aren’t sure if she falls asleep, but you wake up in her arms. You know this is her way of apologizing and if you’re being honest, you’re grateful to have been held after what you have been through during your first day of assignment, even if she doesn’t know what truly transpired.

—

Once you wake up from your nap and Poppy goes to do what she had planned to do during her free time, you decide to go back to the prayer hall to read the scriptures. To anyone else, you would be just an Angel reading the Bible. Which would be true, but you’re reading for a slightly different reason. Who are these Kings of Hell. No one has told you nothing. You think it is crucial for you to know, you have learned of one of their existences, and you don’t think you want that to happen in that way again. Poppy said they don’t normally come out, and the man that night didn’t correct her, so it must be true. But what if they decide to come out one day, and you simply don’t know. You still haven’t encountered a Demon since that night. Obviously, you know how to spot one, but if a King of Hell can look like, not a Demon? Then how are you supposed to know. You felt that same man last night, but you still don’t know his name. Aren’t you supposed to know their names, and it gives you leverage over them? You think about that, you aren’t sure how true it is, but you remember it being talked about from the second Conjuring movie. You laugh to yourself, getting information about Demons from a movie that you saw before you died. Comical.

You read for hours and find nothing. Obviously, the seven sins themselves are talked about, but not the Kings who rule over them. Why are there eight Kings but seven deadly sins? This makes no sense, and you wish someone would just tell you. “Angel,” a gruff voice calls from behind you. You look behind your shoulder to see none other than Angel Zen himself.

“Yes, Angel Zen,” you reply softly to the man who seems to be in a good mood currently.

“Reading scriptures for fun?” he questions, an eyebrow raised. You don’t even know if this Angel has the capability of being in a good mood. Alas, you keep a curt smile on your face while speaking with him.

“Not for fun, but to learn. You can never read too much when it comes to scriptures,” you answer, hoping that the conversation will end soon.

“That is correct, Angel. The orchestra will start soon, so go get ready for prayer,” he instructs before shooing you away with his hand. After the interaction, you walk to your room to get clothes before walking to the showers. As you enter the orchestra, music begins to play, and Angels begin entering the showers. As the showers fill, you begin to wash off with the soap and wash rag. You know the whole point of no scent in the soap is so you will only smell like your scent, but every so often you miss being able to wash yourself with soap that smelled like cotton candy or something magical like that. As you finish your shower and are leaving to go back to your room to get ready for the prayer, Poppy comes in. She smiles at you brightly before going to the shower that you just occupied. If you see her tonight before your assignment, it will only be briefly after the prayer.

The walk to your room was short, and you didn’t really have much to do to get ready for prayer. You decided to bring a cross with you this time instead of the Bible. Honestly, you’re a bit nervous to going out tonight, so the cross will help with your fidgeting during the prayer. If you’re being honest you want answers, but you know the likelihood of you getting them is not strong, but you just wish you could know what everyone else does.

—

And just as quick as the prayer started, it ended just as swiftly. You’re used to looking over your shoulder to see Poppy, but she hasn’t quite made it to you yet. She’s walking your way and as you go up to meet her, she walks right past. She didn’t even look your way. You look around for the only other Angel that you know, Angel Zen. Once you find him, you make brief eye contact before he moves his gaze back to the Angel he was just speaking to.

You sprint back to your room to find Poppy. Once you enter, you see her back, as she is clawing through the drawers with an urgency that you haven’t seen in years. “Poppy,” you cried out, tears threatening to fall down your eyes. She turns around and glances at you but does not make eye contact. Without a word, she is gone. Likely having transported herself to her assignment.

You fall to the floor, your lower limbs having given out on you. Your throat feels like it is closing, and your spit is falling out of your mouth as you sob. ‘Poppy, what did I do wrong, please Poppy’ you ask through your bond, hyperventilating in the position you find yourself in. You try to get up to go to your bed, Poppy having decided not to respond to you. As you’re walking to where your bed sits, your vision gets no better. Your sight is going in and out, and your head is getting lightheaded. You feel your body give out, you come back to reality as soon as your head hits the floor, only having passed out for a few seconds. You opt to lay there because you know you are not strong enough to hold your body up right now. You think of Dina, and how she would help you during your panic attacks.

“Hey Dina, we have the same schedule this week,” you cheered, happy that you and your best friend will see each other a lot the following week. Your best friend jumps up and down with her hands cupping her face, sharing the same excitement. Working at the bakery shop was fun, especially when it was the graveyard shift. All you and Dina did was bake throughout the night, and doing light decorating. The morning shift would come in and do more thorough decorating.

“The owner said we have to bake this huge cake tonight, to not even worry about the small stuff, that he would come in and bake those later in the shift,” Dina says with wide eyes.

“Jeez, how big is the cake?” you question Dina, never has your owner came in to make baked goods. Your manager, sure. The owner? Never.

“We’ll have to see once we get there,” Dina says, and you both walk out the door with pep in your steps because you have got to see what this cake is all about.

“Dina, this is not what I was expecting,” you say with your mouth agape in shock. This cake has so much to it. It’s a gigantic house, three stories. Chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, and strawberry were the flavors that you had to use. But not one part of the cake had to be a certain flavor, but one room in the house had to be a swirl of all the flavors? What an odd request. “I feel bad for who has to frost the cake, they want eight different colors for their frosting. They also want it swirled for that one room,” you tell Dina, still in shock.

“Who even ordered this anyway?,” Dina asks while looking at the ticket, “Kang Yeosang”, Dina says while popping her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Well Kang Yeosang better tip us a million fucking dollars Dina,” you laugh to yourself.

“He better, he definitely has a lot of money. Now let's get to baking, the owner of the whole bakery didn’t say not to worry about anything else tonight for a reason.

You and Dina spend the next twelve hours baking the odd request, whenever it got hard you found yourself cursing the man who ordered it because truly, why did he need such an absurd cake? Alas, you have finished baking everything, now all that is left is for the other bakers to frost it and put it together. You really hope this Yeosang dude likes this cake. And will actually pay for it. It would be unfortunate if he didn’t.

As you and Dina move to leave the kitchen, you bump into the table and one of the pieces falls on the floor. You gasp and look at Dina with fear in your eyes, which has replaced the sleepiness you were feeling prior. Your legs begin to give out, and you begin to hyperventilate, and your heart is beating so fast that you fear it may fall out of your chest.

“Hey lovie, you’re okay, listen to my voice,” Dina says in a hope to calm you down.

“I fu-fuc-fucked it all up Dina. I’m going to g-get fired, and I can’t get fi-fired,” you choke out, stuttering on your words as spit begins to still in your throat. Dina rubs your back and engulfs you in a hug, making sure that the fluorescent lights of the room are out of your line of vision.

“Hey, I know it is frustrating, but mistakes happen. And what fell on the ground was sphere shaped, no one will be mad at that for falling. There is a reason why no one orders sphere shaped cakes,” Dina coos into your ear softly, still rubbing your back, “If anything, we should blame the man who ordered the cake. What was his name? Oh right, Kang Yeosang. It’s all his fault. Big ass cake for a small ass bakery shop,” Dina mocks, causing you to laugh into her chest.

“I’m sorry Dina,” you mumble, having calmed down.

Dina playfully turns her head, “Nothing to be sorry for lovie, now I’ll go tell the owner, and you can put in four more sheets of vanilla batter in the oven. The other bakers don’t even get here until another hour, it’ll be okay,” Dina says soft but clearly before leaving the room.

The owner wasn’t mad, but made a mental note to put the spheres into a container so they wouldn’t fall again. The cakes are ready before you and Dina leave for the day, so you take them out of the oven so they can cool before leaving with Dina after clocking out. You and Dina walk together with your arms interlocked on your way home, ready for the sleep that you are about to have.

“I miss Dina,” you sigh to yourself. The memory is a fond one and it helped you calm down after your panic attack. You haven’t had one in a while, but when you did, Poppy was the one who helped you through it. Now, she caused it. But you don’t dwell on the thought for too long, you know you’re already late to your assignment. You just wish you knew what you did wrong.

—

The kids appear to be sleeping soundly in their beds. “It should be a good night,” you think to yourself before situating yourself next to the toddler. You opt to sit on the floor and just play with his hair instead of laying with him, you hope this will keep his nightmares at bay just as well.

You wonder if he will come again tonight. You sigh and roll your eyes to yourself, still not knowing what name to put with that man you saw four years ago. “Why can’t I just know his name?,” you mumble to yourself quietly. And like he knew your thoughts and could hear that whisper the scent of cinnamon began to fill your nostrils. You close your eyes and try to ignore it. It is hard, the scent has gotten strong in a short amount of time. You wonder if the kids can smell it? Surely, they have to. After a minute or so, you’re hoping that he — or at least the scent, will go away. The noise of poking at the window startles you, causing you to look that way. The same man from all those years ago is situated on the other side, you meet his gaze, and he smiles cheekily at you.

“Come see me Cherry, it’s been a while,” he urged. You think about it, you have been wanting to know more about him, but you aren’t supposed to speak to him. You could call Poppy and tell her a King of Hell has found you again, but she definitely does not want to talk you right now. “Please, Cherry,” the man begs, asking again. You get up and walk to the window, being mere inches away from the man, the only thing separating you was glass that you knew he could break if he really wanted to. You look at him, but he doesn’t make eye contact, he’s studying you, taking in your features after all these years.

You can see he is about to speak, about to ask you a question and fear suddenly envelops you. He pokes at the window to get your attention, nodding his head to the side to ask you what’s wrong. You break the eye contact suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Hey Cherry, let me—,” you shut the curtains in his face before he can finish his statement, “Come on,” the man shouts in shock. The man’s reaction causes you to laugh, and you can’t seem to control your laughter either, replaying what you think his face would’ve looked like in your mind. “Cherry, you think this funny, but I have been waiting to see you for years,” the man stumbles over his words, obviously shocked that you closed the curtains in his face. “So you can come over to see me, but you can’t speak?,” the man inquires, hoping that you will answer. He doesn’t know that you’ve already situated yourself back with the sleeping toddler, but his continues efforts to converse with you do make you chuckle. “Okay you may not answer me, but I’m not leaving,” he says one last time before going silent.

He stays true to his word, the longer the night goes the more sparse his attempts at talking to you are. He does, in fact, not leave, the smell of cinnamon fills your nostrils until you transport yourself back to Heaven. He doesn’t even leave when you pray over the children throughout the night, he was one persistent Demon.

—

Once you are back in Heaven, you go straight to your room to get ready for your shower. You don’t expect to see Poppy, and you are correct. She isn’t there and neither are her things. Not even your bed. You contemplate being sad for a second, but it isn’t worth it. You shrug at the sight before going to the showers to wash away the smell of cinnamon that you know lingers on your skin.

Once you enter the showers, there are only two open. One next to Poppy and another next to another Angel who you do not know the name of. You had always showered next to Poppy because you aren’t allowed to be friends with any other Angels, but if she can be petty, then so can you. You walk right past Poppy, and you can feel her eyes on you, but you don’t pay her any mind. ‘What are you doing, Blossom,’ the nerve she has, speaking through to you through your bond. You don’t reply or give any indication that you even heard the thought, continuing to wash your hair and your body quickly. Once you are finished, you walk back to your room. You’ve decided to bring your Bible and your cross with you to prayer today. Your cross to squeeze in your hand and the Bible to remind you that you are, in fact, in a prayer hall.

You walk to the prayer hall, taking your normal spot. You actually try to pray with everyone else today because if you don’t, you think you may blow up. ‘Blossom,’ you hear through your bond with Poppy. It takes everything in you to not whip your head around and look in your direction, but you don’t. You keep your composure in the prayer hall, you hope that prayer is done soon because you feel like you need to scream into the void of the Earth. ‘Angel Blossom to you, only speak to me if it is important,’ you reply through your bond.

Once the prayer ends you book it straight to your room, you definitely need to scream into the pillow. Once you enter your room and shut your door, it is being reopened just moments later. Poppy is standing in the doorway, where she stays for a few seconds before fully coming in and closing the door behind her. “We have to talk,” Poppy exclaims, taking a few steps towards you.

“No fucking shit, Poppy. Of course, we have to talk,” you bite back, venom lacing your voice.

“You don’t curse in Heaven, Angel,” Poppy replies, her forehead creasing with anger.

“And you’re in Heaven too and that hasn’t stopped you from acting like an asshole, so that’s that, Poppy. Nice talk,”

“Don’t be like that,” Poppy replies, her face having became softer in the past few seconds.

“Don’t be like what? Be forced to be someone’s friend that someone isn’t allowed to have more friends besides you. Hmmm.. What else? Oh! Out of nowhere, stop talking to them and move out of your shared room for the past few years in less than twenty-four hours after ignoring them! Yes, let’s not be like that, Poppy,” you hiss, not caring for who could hear you at that moment.

“You got too comfortable, and my rank increased. I had to move,” Poppy says, glancing at the floor.

“Too comfortable? I live uncomfortably in here,” you whisper this, just loud enough for Poppy to hear.

“I’m sorry. We still have our bond, so call if you need. I couldn’t answer today due to being in a meeting, but don’t call for me unless it is urgent. And for God’s sake, tell that Demon to leave you alone. Don’t fall because of him,” Poppy says with urgency in her voice.

“You weren’t in a meeting. I saw you leave. Don’t lie to me, and what Demon are you talking about” you question Poppy.

“Don’t play stupid, everyone can smell his scent on you. He’s the King of Hell for crying out loud, his scent lingers even if you don’t touch him. And I needed to go to an important meeting, excuse me for having misspoke,” Poppy retorts.

“Whatever Poppy. Maybe if you actually talked to me before assuming stuff you would know I haven’t talked to nor felt that Demon. The reason I smelled like cinnamon today was because the kids mother made a homemade cinnamon inspired dish and their father got mad, and he threw them at the kids because the two youngest started to cry,” you respond, the lie easily falling from your lips. You glance at Poppy, and she is believing it. “And I stepped in front of them so they would have time to move out of the way so they wouldn’t get burned by the hot food. Of course, it still went through me, but it distorted time just enough to give them enough time to get out of the way. So excuse me for doing my job as a Guardian Angel, Poppy. You can tell anyone that story who doubts me. They know just as well as you do that Earthly scents linger. So stop projecting your worries onto me, I can handle myself,” you say to Poppy in a mocking tone, laughing to yourself as you speak.

“You can handle yourself so well, very funny coming from the one who killed themselves,” Poppy hissed.

“Get out,” you shout at the Angel before throwing the wooden cross in your hand at her, she teleported just in time to not get hit by the cross. You aren’t even sad at her statement, but just angry. You feel betrayed, she knew how much that fact about yourself haunted you, but she used it against you in a moment of anger anyway. If you knew better you would say that wasn’t her at all.

—

During your leisure time between assignments you didn’t have to stay in Heaven. You opted to do so because of the dangers that you had been warned of, but now you don’t really care. So you decide to go out to Earth during your spare time, albeit you find yourself on the peer. You lean against the new wood that was used to fix what you broke all those years ago.

“Cherry,” after hearing the nickname that you have come a bit to accustomed to when you ventured down to the Earth, you whip your head around towards the voice. The man leans against the peer with you, his body is turned towards you and not the water. You look back out the water instead of answering him, taking in the smell of the sea. “Still not talking to me pretty?,” questioning you softly.

“I would, but you’re a bit mean,” you exclaim, still not moving your gaze towards him.

“I am not!,” he says in a surprised tone, which makes you look at him. You giggle at his reaction, his mouth opened in shock at your statement. He definitely was offended.

“A King of Hell isn’t mean? I should talk to the other seven to let them know you aren’t doing your duty of being a big bad wolf?,” he rolls his eyes at you dramatically, turning to look at the water.

“Okay now you know that is not what I meant,” he retorts.

“How else was I supposed to take it then?,”

“I am not mean to you my little cherry blossom,”

“I feel flattered,” you say sarcastically

“You should,” the man says before taking a couple of steps, “what are you even doing down at Earth when you aren’t on assignment?,”

“It isn’t forbidden for me to come down to Earth during my free time you know?,”

“Yes, I know. But it is odd, coming to this space in specific,”

You know why it is odd, the peer is empty when it would normally be full of people. “How come?,”

“You really don’t know?,” he questions you. You shake your head no to him in response.

“A few years back, someone drove off the peer. The city fixed it but no one ever really comes besides paranormal investigators and teenagers who decide it’s cute to do a Ouija board,” the man explains.

“That’s so sad,” you say sorrowfully, “Does that person ever answer their calls? You know the teenagers and paranormal investigators?,”

“No,” he sighs, “they were always an enigma,”

His words pique your interest, you had never really talked about the surroundings of your death before. “How so? If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” You question.

“Well to me, they were an enigma from the start. I wanted to see the body because when someone dies they have a marking that shows if their soul went to Heaven or Hell. For Hell, it’ll have that marking with a number, the number showing which ruler you spend eternity with,” he pauses to look down at the ocean, “the person who killed themselves had the marking of Hell with an infinity sign and the sign of Heaven,”

The revelation that he makes to you makes the blood in your body run cold. You’re glad that he was not looking at you, and you were not looking at him because the look on your face would have given you away instantly.

“That is really strange, did you try looking for them?” you question, thankful that the anxiety you felt could not be shown in your voice.

“We never tried, Heaven is quick to come to find the people who are meant to go there. I just wonder what they said when they saw the symbol of Hell with an infinity sign next to us. None of us Kings could ever figure out what that meant,” he sighs, “Did you ever see them?,” he questions.

“No, if I’m being honest I don’t think any Angel has,” they definitely haven’t, no one knows your true story. “But for something like that, I don’t think it’d be made known,”

“You’re right. They have a memorial plaque at the entrance of the peer. Did you see it?,”

“No,”

The man gestures you to follow him down the peer towards the entrance. The plaque has a picture that you and Dina had taken together a couple of months before your death’s, both of your names, with a simple “Rest Easily” engraved on it as well.

“I thought there was only one person who passed away in this tragedy?,” you ask while looking at the plaque.

“There was only one, but both of them died that night. They were best friends. The dispatch call was made public, I just don’t think they could live without her,” his words sting, but they hold true. “You know, their dad got on the television crying over their death,” he states, voice having now gone monotone.

What the Hell. What in the actual Hell. “I just think that, if you’re a good dad, your child wouldn’t disown you, you know?,” He looks at you after he stops talking.

“I agree, did he say they didn’t talk?” you question.

“Yes, the whole interview was a bit bizarre. I just know Hongjoong will be the one dealing with him once he dies,” he grumbled.

You look up at him, a bit confused about what he means by the name. Who is Hongjoong?

“Hongjoong is the King of Kings when it comes to Hell. Although seven of the eight of us rule over specific sins, he rules over them all. He’s the most important one,” You nod at his explanation, deciding not to ask more questions. He will tell you if he'd like.

“Where did she go?,” your curiosity getting the better of you once you focus back on the plaque.

“Her death was something different, difficult to explain. But let’s not talk about it,”

This saddens you, he wouldn’t have a problem telling you she went to Hell, so you don’t understand why he is being so secretive now.

“May I ask you a question, Mr. King of Hell?,” He chuckles at the name you gave him, but nods at you nonetheless.

“Still don’t know my name?,” he asks, and you nod, looking away as the embarrassment creeps up on your cheeks.

“Can you take me to where she is buried?,”

“Which one?,”

You weren’t expecting him to ask that question. “Dina,”

“Yes, we’ll have to walk through since I cannot teleport you there,”

“You’re right about that, I’d have nowhere to go if I became a fallen Angel,” you joke.

“You’d come to Hell with me,” he remarked like it was obvious.

The rest of the walk is spent in silence until you come upon a cemetery. Once you get to her grave, your body almost becomes too much for your feet to handle. You hold your composure, you really wish the Demon wasn’t with you right now so you could cry.

“I don’t feel anything,” you whispered. You sit down at her grave, before your feet end up failing you.

The Demon sits down next to you, but far enough away that you wouldn’t be in danger of touching him. “You don’t usually feel anything, Cherry,” acknowledging what you whispered to yourself.

You get up quickly, the feeling of the cemetery becoming too overwhelming. “I need to go, thank you for today,” you muttered quickly before transporting yourself to back to Heaven. You didn’t even give him a chance to speak back, but you really didn’t feel like crying in front of a Demon today.

—

You arrived in Heaven right on time, the orchestra having started mere moments after transporting into your room. You didn’t realize how long you had been out, but at least you weren’t late. You do your usual routine, no Poppy in site. Not that you really cared too much, but you still looked for the familiarity. She also hasn’t graced the prayer hall with her presence either, which is odd.

If you’re being honest, you really do miss Poppy. Being bonded with her means that you miss her subconsciously, as she to you.

“Everyone listen up,” Angel Zen announces, “I want to make sure everyone is paying attention today as God has a message that, I think, would be crucial for some of you to hear,” he makes eye contact with you as he says it which causes chills to run up your spine.

“Everything you do, God knows. Every conversation you have, God hears. Everything you feel, God feels. Everything you see, God sees as well. Every single Angel in this room is privileged to be an Angel. Don’t forget it. Don’t be reckless,” Angel Zen commanded.

The rest of the prayer goes by as normal, but you can’t shake that feeling that you get when you think about the words that Angel Zen said to begin the prayer. It’s a reality check, you can’t keep doing what you are doing. After finding out the information that you did earlier, you truly think you’d be fucked. The symbol of Hell with an infinity sign? You’d surely be in the deepest pits of Hell right now if it weren’t for your Guardian Angel.

Once the prayer ends, you walk to your room to retrieve your cross and your Bible to take with you on assignment, you can’t take any more risks with that Demon. Although you’re nervous, you have a job to do.

—

Once you arrive at your assignment, you find the baby is awake. You have always had a soft spot for kids, so you are grateful that you are a Guardian Angel for them. You don’t want the baby to cry, so you do your best to help the baby girl fall asleep quickly.

The knocks on the window shock you, almost causing you to scream. Your energy is enough to wake the kids up if you are not calm, so it is really irritating when that Demon scares you. Seriously, you have to ask him what he did with his scent. You didn’t smell it when he was with you earlier. At least you knew he was coming then. You ignore it, but his knocks do not pause. Eventually, you walk up to the window.

“Go away,” you ordered, trying your best to sound serious.

“Let me in,” he requested.

“No,”

“After everything I did for you today?,” he asked with a pout.

You hate that he was right, he did a lot for you today. But you did bring a cross and a Bible… so maybe he can’t come near you anyway. You flash the Bible and the cross at him, to which he rolls his eyes. Now that was rude, you thought to yourself.

“That doesn’t bother me. I’m not a vampire,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Fine, come in,” you mutter under your breath, instantly he is in the room with you. He smirks at you after getting his way.

“What are their names?,”

“The kids? I’m not telling you,” you stated.

“And why not?,”

“Because you still haven’t told me yours,”

“Wow, you would think they would’ve told you our names, or at least mine after I scared the living daylights out of your friend,”

“You’re telling me,”

“Take a guess, you could get it right,”

“Hmm… You want to know what you look like?,”

“Yes,”

“You look like a buffoon,”

“That’s mean,”

“You asked me to guess,”

“You’re not like any Angel I’ve ever met Cherry,”

“For my sake, please don’t elaborate,”

“I won’t,”

For a while, the two of you don’t continue the conversation. You sit in the silence for a while, you hold the hand of the toddler while the Demon sits by the crib, watching you.

“Which sin do you think I rule over?,” the Demon asks.

“Well, you said that all of you don’t really come out often, but out of the seven sins it would make the most sense for gluttony and lust to come to Earth. And you’re a bit of a flirt, so I’d say you rule over lust,” you answered, not expecting to be correct. One thing you have learned over the years is that not everything is as it seems.

“Correct,” he said happily.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting to be right,”

“You’re smart Cherry,”

His compliment makes you blush, and you’re glad that he doesn’t tease you. “Their names are Eric, Sebastian, and Ariel. Like The Little Mermaid,” you say to distract from your nervousness

“It fits them perfectly, don’t you think?,” he questions, looking back at the crib.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“My name is Wooyoung,” his voice trembled as he spoke, like he was afraid that his name would steer you away. His name was beautiful, and you couldn’t hide the grin that plastered your face once he told you his name.

“You have a beautiful name,” you reassure him.

“Are you afraid to say it?,” Wooyoung quips.

“If I say it three times will you show up?,”

“No,” the man chuckles, “I can show up when you say it once, if you say it with the intent of wanting me to show up,” Wooyoung informs you.

“That is nice to know, no one really tells me anything,”

“Do they really keep Angels ignorant on Hell and its beings?,” Wooyoung questions.

“Yes, at least me,” you tell him, not caring about the cons of doing so.

“May I ask you a question Cherry?,”

“Yes,”

“Why do they keep you ignorant, if they know a King of Hell is out to get you?,”

“They probably want you to take me away,” you say before realizing the words that have fallen from your mouth. You put your hand over your mouth like it would’ve taken back what you said, but it wouldn’t. The tears fall from your eyes before you can stop them.

“Cherry, please don’t cry. Why would you think Heaven doesn’t want one of its Angels?,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“I can’t say,” you whisper, looking up at the man who is now a lot closer to you than he previously was. “I’ve already told you too much,”

“You can tell me anything and everything,”

“I can’t,”

“Why can’t you?,”

“Because, you’re a King of Hell, and I’m a Guardian Angel. That isn’t a good combination,”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,”

“What do you want with me anyway,”

“Do you remember what I told you the first time we met,”

“That you were searching for the love of your life?,”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me Wooyoung?,”

“Just listen to me, the eight other Kings and I are destined to have the same lover,”

“You are all dating each other?,”

“No, we are all destined to be with the same person,”

“Like a poly relationship?,”

“Yes,”

“So eight people dating one person?,”

“Yes, Cherry,”

“Well I am happy for you, but I’m still confused on how I am involved, do you need me to help you look for them? I figured you’d have enough people who’d be willing to do that for you anyway,” you scoff.

“Cherry, it’s you,” his words leave you baffled. There is no way you are a soulmate to a King of Hell, let alone eight.

“Get out,” you hiss.

“Let me explain,”

“Get out,”

“If you wish, but I’ll be near, you know that,”

“Get out,”

—“Cherry, please don’t cry. Why would you think Heaven doesn’t want one of its Angels?,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“I can’t say,” you whisper, looking up at the man who is now a lot closer to you than he previously was. “I’ve already told you too much,”

“You can tell me anything and everything,”

“I can’t,”

“Why can’t you?,”

“Because, you’re a King of Hell, and I’m a Guardian Angel. That isn’t a good combination,”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,”

“What do you want with me anyway,”

“Do you remember what I told you the first time we met,”

“That you were searching for the love of your life?,”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me Wooyoung?,”

“Just listen to me, the eight other Kings and I are destined to have the same lover,”

“You are all dating each other?,”

“No, we are all destined to be with the same person,”

“Like a poly relationship?,”

“Yes,”

“So eight people dating one person?,”

“Yes, Cherry,”

“Well I am happy for you, but I’m still confused on how I am involved, do you need me to help you look for them? I figured you’d have enough people who’d be willing to do that for you anyway,” you scoff.

“Cherry, it’s you,” his words leave you baffled. There is no way you are a soulmate to a King of Hell, let alone eight.

“Get out,” you hiss.

“Let me explain,”

“Get out,”

“If you wish, but I’ll be near, you know that,”

“Get out,”

—

It’s been an hour or so since you kicked the man out, and you should feel bad. You just couldn’t grasp how he came to that realization. He didn’t know you and you didn’t know him. You haven’t even known his name for a full day yet, and he’s telling you that you’re destined to be the soulmate of eight Demons? As a Guardian Angel? He is out of his mind.

You begin to cry out of frustration, you knew his interest in you was weird, but you didn’t expect this. You are glad he found you when you were an Angel and not a human because had he found you earlier, he likely wouldn’t have hesitated to take you back to Hell.

He surely didn’t think it through, he could end up hating you. Or the other Kings. Then what? Do they kill you? Torture you for eternity? For someone as old as him he should know better. He should have known you would never go with him.

As soon as the sun comes up, you know it’s time for you to go back. You hope he will leave you alone, and you hope to put this behind you.

—

As soon as you reach Heaven, you go to find Angel Zen. As much as you hated asking for help, you knew you needed his. You go to the prayer hall, not even bothering to shower yet. You see him talking to another Angel towards the front of the prayer hall.

“Angel Zen, I need your help,” you shout, causing the other Angel to run off somewhere.

“Why are you in here unbathed?,”

“I apologize, but I need your help,”

“What do you need?,”

“I need a new assignment, I need something else to do, please believe me,”

“Why is that?,”

“Please, I have already lost everything,”

“Once you start playing with fire, you need to learn how to hose yourself off,”

You fall to your knees as sobs begin to fall down your mouth, you didn’t know what else to do. You don’t know how to save yourself, you’re alone in this battle.

“I will see what I can do, it is challenging to find an Angel to take your spot. Every Angel has its purpose. Angels fall every day, so it makes it harder. But you are strong, resisting lust’s charm. I will try since you are such a strong little Angel. But next time, don’t mess with something that you know you can’t handle,”

Relief fills your being as you hear that Angel Zen will help you. Although he was still his same unkind self, he was willing to help you. A human quality of stubbornness helped you in a time of need, which you are grateful.

“Now go shower. Never come in the prayer hall with the smell of Earth on you ever again,” Angel Zen commands as he points to the exit of the prayer hall. You are out instantly, going straight to get your clothes and going to the showers. You wash off the contents of the day before going back to the prayer hall with your Bible in hand.

Once you enter the prayer hall, you sit down in your assigned spot. You begin to read the Bible to pass the time before the actual prayer starts. You have to become more serious with this — more believing. Or Angel Zen’s help would have been in vain. If anything, you know when to be grateful. Even though you are sure that your relationship with Poppy is irreparable, her faith in God is admirable as an Angel. You aspire to believe in the way she does, maybe if you did you wouldn’t have gotten in this mess at all.

Once the prayer ends, you feel empty. Poppy is still nowhere to be seen and instead of her walking up to you, it is Angel Zen.

“I have been able to find a replacement but not for tonight. Can you handle one more night on your assignment?,” Angel Zen questions.

“Yes, sir, I can handle one more night on assignment,” you answer honestly.

“Okay. Don’t let the Demon become any of the wiser. Come to me after you finish the assignment,”

“Yes sir,”

After your conversation with Angel Zen, you go straight to your room to recuperate. Perhaps now, you can become more focused on what is more important. Maybe you can see Poppy. But at least you know that after tonight, you will no longer have to see that Demon again.

tags:

@multifictionx @pre1ttyies @hecateslittlewitchling @adorawritesalot @unlikelysublimekryptonite @loumin908 @kirbrary @sunasmoke22 @ylak @yoonshiiu

[ofliterarynature]

APRIL 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf (reread) bookclub*]

Death in the Spires • Heartstopper Vol 4 • Heartstopper Vol 3 • To Marry an English Lord • The True Queen • (Heartstopper Vol 2) • Fun Home* • (Arabella of Mars) • I’m Glad My Mom Died • (Sorcerer to the Crown) • And Then There Were None • Vassa in the Night • Queen of the Night • The Other Significant Others • Most Ardently • The Reformatory • The Book of Love

Read: 14 (10 audio, 4 print, 3 DNF)

The Other Significant Others (5 stars)- I've been anticipating this one ever since I first heard about it and it didn't disappoint! Not only does it tell the stories of people in close, non-traditional relationships, it also talks about marriage, raising kids, and aging, and it was all incredible. I've recommended this in the tags of so many posts and I need y'all to read it.

Queen of the Night (3 stars) - I've heard this glowingly recommended. I liked the author's story in the Sword, Stone, Table anthology. The events in the book are incredible! I should have been fascinated! But I was so bored! Part of it was that the mystery/thriller element in the description - someone has written an opera based on the main character's scandalous secret past, who could it be? - was extremely oversold, most of the book is recounting said past events, and we don't really dive into the present mystery until the very end. I've read similarly slow books so I don't know why I didn't like this, but I wish I'd dnf'd it. I'd recommend you try The God of Endings by Jacqueline Holland instead.

Vassa in the Night (4 stars) - this one surprised me! It's YA, I've heard pretty mixed reviews, and it's been sitting on my shelf for a while - starting it, the VERy in-your-face YAness almost threw me off but I'm very glad I stuck through it. I live for magic and fairy tales being dumped into modern times, and the really smart thing about this book is that it keeps a very tight focus (no space for the larger worldbuilding to fall apart lol). We've got a morally-grey magical doll companion who's a kleptomaniac and will eat you out of house and home, Baba-Yaga and her 24-hour convenience store on chicken feet, her disembodied hand assistants, weird guy on a motorcycle, and oh yeah, if they catch you stealing they'll put your head on display (and they're not above framing you to do it). Yes this is perfectly normal, why do you ask? I'm not saying it's perfect, but I had such a good time!

And Then There Were None (4 stars) - my first real attempt at Christie! I did enjoy listening to this, enough that I think I'll try some other Christie, but it wasn't entirely to my taste. I prefer having a detective figure in the story to follow, and the "reveal" after was disappointing.

Sorcerer to the Crown (3.5 stars) - this was a reread, and I definitely liked it a lot less for some reason this time? Maybe it was changing formats, but I love a historical fantasy romp and this should have been right up my alley! The True Queen (4 stars) was much more enjoyable, so maybe it was the characters, maybe it was the rereading itself. I think this might be my sign to call it quits with Zen Cho.

I'm Glad My Mom Died (4 stars) - this isn't really one I think I'd have ever picked for myself even though it got popular, except that my book-club friend recommended it. I'm finding that I'm not really one for memoirs, but despite the heartbreaking contents this was very easy to read - largely chronological with short chapters, and the author is clearly aware that things were bad even when her younger self did not. I accidentally started this when I was also reading Fun Home, so that was a lot of bad-parent-memoir at the same time, oops.

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic (4 stars) - I've been eying this one for a while and am glad to have gotten it on the list for book club! Deeply fascinating, if not always an easy read - the subject on one hand, but the density of the pages, the differences between the comic panels and the narration outside them, and the jumping through time that memoirs do sometimes made events hard to follow. I admit my favorite parts were seeing the different queer books Bechdel slipped into her illustrations (one that I'm reading right now even!).

Arabella of Mars (4.5 stars) - Y'all, we are sleeping on this book, I had so much fun! Here's to girls dressing as boys, sailing ships, steampunk space travel, and vibes straight from early sci-fi adventure novels. I can't believe I forgot about this and am just glad I picked up a copy at the library sale to make myself reread it. I do apologize for thinking this was YA (which it isn't), but further thoughts on that and the rest of the series will have to wait for next month.

Heartstopper Vol 2-4 (5/5/4 stars) - finally! I read part of the comic online ages ago, and read Vol 1 for book club the other month, but I finally got started on the rest of the series. I had definitely read through Vol 2 previously, but everything else was new to me. I had a good time, but Vol 4 was a bit of a(n expected!) downer, and the time jump in the middle ruined the flow a bit for me. I do have Vol 5 in my hands currently, and if I didn't have so many other things to do I'd be tempted to do a big Alice Oseman re/read.

To Marry an English Lord (4 stars) - I encountered this at not one, but TWO unrelated book sales before I caved and bought it. I enjoyed it! It's mostly a sort of overview/reference covering the period around the Gilded Age - the New York upper crust, the European Aristocracy, and the various societal events that lead to a pattern of marital exchange. Did I skim the bits where it just listed name after name after name? Yes, but! Highly recommend to anyone reading romances or general fiction set in the period, I really wish I'd read this before trying The Age of Innocence! (its also very funny how occasionally it makes references that make it very obvious it was written in the 80's lol). Pairs incredibly well with another book I bought at the same sale, The Divorce Colony by April White.

Death in the Spires (3.5 stars) - I love KJ Charles, but I've often felt that her plots and romances can sometimes be at odds - so I was very excited when she said she'd written a mystery! But I'm lukewarm about it at best. The campus novel portions were fascinating, and I'd have loved more of them. But Jem as our narrator just wasn't engaging for most of the book. I wouldn't say it's his fault necessarily, but he's not really a good detective, there are either no clues or they're just going in circles, and the promised attempts on his life just aren't happening. Once we hit the 2/3 mark, where we're on campus, have more characters together, and they're talking - that's when things got good! Maybe this will be be better on a reread, but for now my hopes are for some good fanfic. Would recommend more to the dark academia people rather than mystery fans.

DNF

Most Ardently (20%) - the vibes were very much, "here's my blorbos, I'm putting them in a Pride and Prejudice AU." Which is great, if that's what you want! It was not what I wanted alas. Biggest cons, the de-ageing of the characters and the generally modern YA/queerness. Pros, they did keep all of the other Bennet sisters! I was so tempted to keep reading just to see how Oliver and Darcy got together, but I knew I wasn't going to enjoy myself. Would have loved to see this presented as an original work rather than an adaptation, or as something hewing closer to the original tone and period of the novel.

The Reformatory (43%) - this was good, really! It's just that I'm only so-so on horror on my best days, and both story lines were sad and dark and depressing. I could have probably handled one or the other, but I wasn't really having a good time (that's not the right phrasing exactly, but you know what I mean). I had other things I wanted to read and it was a long book.

The Book of Love (6%) - I've heard multiple people sing the praises of Kelly Link, so while I wasn't really drawn by the description, I thought I'd give it a shot! I did, and it still didn't draw me in. Maybe I'll give it a try again someday, but I think I'll try her short fiction first.

[changingplumbob]

Rotation 8 Wrap-up

3 promotions: Calista, Marta, Adam

6 skills maxed: Calista 1, Aaron 2, Keira 1, Rahul 1, Bob 1

4 new house builds: York, Villareal, Pancakes, Knightstone

3 renovations: New Goth 3rd floor, Moonwood Mill Library, Reece and Samir's Dusty Murder Shack

1 recreation centre: Tartosa

1 set build: Police station

10 birthdays: Deanna, Paris, Milton, Alfred, Rillian, Onyx, Bob, Reece, Silas, Carson (I don't think I've ever had so many before)

1 birth: Viola

2 new pets: Turtle, Seven

York Household, Chapter 8

Calista got promoted and is now a Captain in the military. Aaron worked hard and maxed a couple of skills. Deanna aged up to YA and was awarded valedictorian for her graduation. She dabbled with robotics and asked her girlfriend to move in. Kelly hosted a gold level slumber party and became bracelet BFFs with Anya.

2. New Goth Household, Chapter 3

Hamlet aged up from a kitten to a cat, he and fellow cat Gertrude became companions with James. James looked after Milton who aged up to a child while Alexander and Keira worked on finishing university. Joey started in the tech guru career and woohoo'd two more women. Finally the reappearance of Marta's ex Liam almost resulted in arrest, but he couldn't keep Keira from proposing to Marta.

3. Chopra Household, Chapter 5

Cassandra got a work rival but pregnancy and the near constant need to express milk has pushed him to the back of her mind. Rahul adopted a mini goat and mini sheep and discovered he's a perfectionist. Savannah and Mercedes were busy plotting against new baby Viola who is a cautious infant.

4. Villareal Household, Chapter 5

The household moved to a new home. Devin won a starlight accolade for her acting, discovered she was self-assured and became a 4-star celebrity. Luna mostly worked from home, bonding with the twins. Alfred showed me infants can push plates and Rilian blew a million raspberries before they became toddlers.

5. Pancakes Household, Chapter 8

We found our Pancakes in Brindleton Bay. Bob aged up to an adult amid working at his food stall and chef job to become a level 2 celebrity. Eliza completed 3 out of 4 promotion requirements, and the two agreed to try for a baby once Fergus is a teen. Onyx had their birthday, joined the cheer squad and expressed the wish to have a horse. Fergus bonded with his friends.

6. Woods Household, Chapter 1

In Moonwood Mill Samir got to work trying to figure out what happened to his parents. Following an encounter in the tunnels it became clear they were killed by a werewolf, but he doesn't know why yet. Being bit he has embraced becoming a werewolf. His boyfriend Reece mainly coped with helping Samir through the chaos but did fit in a birthday and some zen time before he commits to university.

7. Knightstone Household, Chapter 8

Adam and Suzanna traveled to Sixam only to find it devoid of aliens like them. The on earth aliens decided to move out to Chestnut Ridge, an area much friendlier to their kind. Silas aged up to a music loving kid and Pollock hit many milestones as he approaches toddlerhood. Adam was promoted to a syndicated superstar.

8. Foster Household, Chapter 8

Carson aged to a teen which turned out to be more difficult than anticipated. Between discovering he has asthma and getting a detention while sitting in class, he has developed OCD. Kayleigh completed two new masterpiece paintings and started to go grey. Harvey spent time with his fishing club and caught a couple of new ones for his collection.

9. Nishidake Household, Chapter 5

Clover was spayed meaning no chance of puppies. Charlie invited her parents around to give them a break from managing Carson and reached level 5 rock climbing. Kaori talked to the mayor and his wife about purchasing a neighborhood park. This led to her seeing Kiyoshi again, who says he will buy the park and gift it to her.

I think I'm allowed to say I'm proud of keeping up with the writing despite some ick bugs and am happy for all the stories and sims I see on simblr that keep my imagination running. Thanks for tuning in everyone, adieu Rotation 8! Here's to Rotation 9!

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 7- Part 9

Ooooh, I see some discoloration in the darkness, and I think I can recognize what it is.

That’s right, our final Pokémon is a Grubbin! Apparently, this encounter can either be a Grubbin or a Joltik, I’m not sure how the game decides which bug to give you here, it could just be a 50/50 thing. But honestly, I would’ve been fine with either of them, both would be helpful for the Gym. Joltik is obvious, being part Electric-type itself by default; as for Grubbin? Well…you’ll see (and no, it’s not about its evolution).

Anyways, I’ve got a good Ball for this, so let’s start by just purely putting it to sleep with Sing.

So far so good. And now, my secret weapon: Chekhov’s Dusk Ball!

Not only is it nighttime, but we’re in a dark building, so this should work perfectly on this Grubbin (especially with it being asleep)!

Outstanding, amazing, 10/10-

I named her Prong after the metal protrusions on electrical plugs- which, you know, given the Grubbin line’s association with electricity and such, seemed fitting.

Anyways, with the lights back on, do these NPCs have anything new to say?

I mean, seems like the lights got fixed pretty quickly, so it couldn’t have been that bad all things considered.

Which god, there’s like thirty of them.

Anyways, those are all the encounters- now it’s time to build our final team for Julia! …After I admire these nighttime light effects.

Nice.

Anyways, as for our team to take on Julia- I did some looking, did some moving-around on the PC, and this is the final product (or, well, near final because there’s yet more grinding to do):

I swapped out Breeze and Streak for Bloom and Prong. Once this Gym battle’s done, I’ll probably bring Breeze back in after beating Julia, but as for Streak…who knows, this may be his time to get some rest. 

I’m keeping in Whiskers because she has a bit more type coverage in the form of Zen Headbutt and Disarming Voice in addition to a STAB Normal move. As for why I’m keeping Riptide in, well- c’mon, he’s our starter! I’m not taking my starter out of the party! It’s like Octopath Traveler, you can’t take the chosen protagonist out of the party- and even when you are allowed to take them out of the party in the endgame, I still don’t do it because I’m too attached.

Anyways, there are some interesting things about Bloom and Prong. For one thing, Bloom apparently has a unique Original Trainer-

“Sweet Co.”...whatever that is. Maybe it’ll become relevant later.

Oh, but Bloom does have the Budew line’s Hidden Ability! Very nice, even if it won’t come into play in this particular Gym battle.

As for why Prong is so special, well, that’s pretty simple: her moves! And in Grubbin’s Gen VII learnset, there’s one move in particular it learns early on, and Prong luckily has it in her current moveset:

BEHOLD! AT LONG LAST, A SINGULAR GROUND-TYPE THING! Again, I doubt we’ll be able to rely on it during this particular battle, but a Ground move is a Ground move and it is so good to have.

Now, the next task is to get these two on the rest of the party’s level- Lv. 16 specifically- and from there, grind everyone up just a bit more (but still below Lv. 20, of course). Bloom in particular is an interesting case, because I want to evolve him into Roselia, but we can’t do that until it’s daytime again. So, I can probably start building up friendship with him now, then continue tomorrow.

And it was in the midst of trying to build up friendship with Bloom that we ran into this new guy, a scientist-looking dude. What’s he got to say?

What kind of analysis would you even be doing on the outside of a building, of all things? Let alone to the point that you get the “wrong” data? How does that even happen?? Do you even have a doctorate, sir??

Wha-!? Excuse me!? Those are what the Read-Outs are?? I mean- if talking to NPCs is what gives those Read-Outs, I mean…I do that pretty frequently already, so maybe getting all the Read-Outs won’t be so bad…? I still wish we could just get the data by battling under that Field Effect a certain amount of times or something…

Which Field Effect is this Read-Out even about, anyways?

Oh- yeah, that makes sense.

Previous

Next

[ultrapoppet]

My long and incoherent AMoL ramblings (I went through the series super fast and skipped chapters) :

Lol at Rand spending 10 books angsting over his prophecized demise (even though it technically wasn't and he should've realized that after hanging out with Moraine for so long) only to walk out of there with a body upgrade (ginger to brunette). Also thank god that Sanderson made sure to mention he didn't lose any height in the process. I'd have to unstan if he had gone below 6'4".

Love that Rand used his angsty dramatic shenanigans to make the nobles sign a peace treaty and made them pay for free college.

The ending was heartwarming until I realized Rand is going to be a deadbeat dad? My man you're going to have quadruplets in a few months what do you mean I'm going to see the world? Maybe he can pull a Mrs Doubtfire to see his kids idk.

I still don't know if I like Sanderson's writing. He got us out of the slog but I don't like his interpretation of most of the characters and his writing is so YA CW cheesy. I'm grateful that he finished the series but I don't know if I want to read any more of his books.

I thought Rand was going to be one of my favorite charachters ever but his arc in Sanderson's book left me unsatisfied and I'm sad about it.

The battle with the dark one was cliche and kind of anticlimactic but I guess it makes sense with zen Rand's arc, which I also don't love. I expected more from the dark one. But the twist with Moridin was good.

How did he light the pipe??? Did he complete his Jesus arc by being reborn and power up? Idk I don't like that he can't channel anymore but I think Jordan left that for a sequel.

I thought Min would be the one to figure out why they can't destroy the dark one (their banner is literally the yin-yang symbol) but they cut her philosopher arc short so the dark one himself had to info dump it. I didn't like how Rand tells him you're nothing at the end and can seemingly easily kill using the power of friendship and positivity or something. I don't like when the big bad is undermined after being hyped for the whole series. Also, this was just after Rand realized he was a necessary force of the universe so it makes no sense.

I don't like that Min got stuck with Tuon. She deserved better but maybe she'll help the Sanchean stop being tyrannical slave owners.

Egwayne came through with putting Tuon in her place and trying to free the damane (I'd have loved to see Tuon get collared at some point) and Mat is there like girls and their catfights about human rights am I right! Fuck you Mat. I understand they had to make peace with the Sanchean but I don't have to like it.

Rip Gawyn you'd been a Darwin award winner. Egwayne deserved better.

I wish we'd seen Rand and Galad interact. And more of Tam and Rand. Galad could use some Tam in his life.

I expected the fate vs choice thing to be more interesting. We have all these prophecies that have to happen plus Taveren so where does that leave personal choice? I don't think the pattern is literally forcing them (despite what Mat fans say) but all the prophecies and Min's visions seemingly come true so the pattern is set at some points at least and it did strategically push them all to the right points to defeat the dark one. Also what happened to Cadsune teaching a lesson to all the Ashaman? I think they just forgot or I skipped it idk.

Nynave living her best life with her dilf husband. It's what she deserves.

Moraine's arc has the potential to be so much better in the show if they ever get to that point which I'm not sure they will. Their views or ratings are not very good. And no it's not just because of the book fans who don't like the changes. I hope they do because I want to see more Rosamond Pike and Moraine/Rand interactions. I'm still worried about Rand's arc but his book arc was already disappointing to me so.

[bbq-potato-chip]

What’s your favorite part of Demon Slayer?

OK SO

This is so hard because there are so many parts that are just so good but I’ll try to narrow it down!!!

(kny manga spoilers so watch out !!🚨)

I loved the part in season three where Nezuko conquered the sun and I lived the part when the Kamaboko squad worked together in the red light district arc, I loved seeing them work together when they were fight Daki n gyotaro!

but I’d say the infinity castle arc is just so good as a whole!!! That arc is so good I’ve reread it multiple times, from the kaigaku versus zen battle, shinobu death and the douma battle ,akazas backstory, and then genya…I remember reading his death scene and I started to cry…They weren’t kidding that backstory can tragic…

I really loved the Zenitsu versus kaigaku battle because my boy zen has GLOWED UP ⬆️ 💡🔪💛 but I’m always like WHERES THE REST OF IT WHY WAS KAIGAKU THAT WAY!!!GOTOGUE YOU GOTTA GIVE ME MORE !!! I need to back n read that again but that’s probably be one of my favorite moments even though I do feel like there could have been more! I just wish we could have gotten to see more of their relationship and what kaigaku’s whole Deal(tm) was (I have got to put an analysis post together about that battle. I will figure it out I promise you all I WILL connect those dots!!!) but. Still one of my favorite moments !

And of course the inosuke + kanao battle against douma! (GET HIS ASS!!!) It was such a good moment to see kanao rlly grow as a character as well as inosukes backstory which was neat! Kanao is probably one of the best female characters in shonen that I’ve seen (I will NOT stand for any kanao hate 🔫) I just. I love her so much one day I am going to write a post about her character arc I just. I could ramble on abt her but I am going to hold myself back atm

Anyway I know these are like. Multiple moments so I hope that’s ok!!! I just love like . The infinity castle arc like as one big thing I love how you can see how our characters grow (esp kanao n Zenitsu but the others as well!)

but also in terms of like. Just things that make me happy would probably be the first epilogue chapter, I just love the fact that our main guys get to be happy and live together…it’s found family at its finest…I remember when i first read it I went insane it’s just so important to me that they are happy in the end especially because of my lonely guy Zenitsu FINALLY finding people that care about him it’s just…so…I love it I love it so much!!!

[sabishi-tomo]

AnS Chapter 131 Rough Summary

Since the full translation of the latest chapter won't be out for another week or more, I did a rough translation for the starving ZenYuki fans in the AnS Discord. I was asked to post it on Tumblr too, so here it is! It's under the cut for peeps who want to avoid spoilers.

Note that I have mediocre proficiency in Japanese so there may be inaccuracies. There's a reason I'm editor on the Clarines Press team and not the translator!

Summary under the cut!

The OT5 have dinner

So, at first, the OT5 are talking about Ryuu and his new assignment. Mitsuhide expresses surprise because originally he didn't think Ryuu would fit in Lilias. Obi says this subject still makes Shirayuki sad, Mitsuhide apologizes for bringing it up. Shirayuki says it's okay because she'll continue to feel like that for a while. Zen talks about Garak moving to respond to the wishes of her precious students, Kiki mentions having been worried about Ryuu being buried in the snow when he first came to Lilias. Then, Mitsuhide mentions that he was shocked to see Ryuu talk to so many people at the Rugilia estate (he's referring to after the perfume incident was over).

That reminds Zen about the Rugilia Banquet. Zen asks if Shirayuki and Obi cleared up Lord Eisetsu's misunderstanding. Shirayuki and Obi are confused at first but then they understand what he's talking about.

Mitsuhide: What happened? Kiki: To keep Eisetsu-sama from approaching Shirayuki, Hisame-dono made him believe that she was in love with Obi. Obi: It's a misunderstanding that Kiki-jo's husband needs to clear up. Zen: I don't understand how Kiki's fiance did it... Mitsuhide (to Shirayuki): How did you do it? Kiki: 10 seconds. [Gotta love our girl Kiki, so concise.]

Anyway, Zen cuts of the 10 second count at 8 seconds since Shirayuki starts combusting at the 7 second mark. Mitsuhide: I understand now... Shirayuki: I'm sorry... There's some banter between Kiki and Obi, and then- Zen: If you guys want to keep talking about the evening party you were at and drink, do what you want. Mitsuhide: I wasn't there, though... Zen: Shirayuki, let's have tea at the market.

Obi, Mitsuhide, and Kiki high five each other as soon as Zen and Shirayuki leave. Mitsuhide accidentally demonstrating the '10 seconds-to-fall-in-love' thing was no accident 🤭. By goading Zen, they were giving Shirayuki and Zen an opportunity to leave and have some alone time.

Obi's conversation with Mitsuhide and Kiki

Obi jokes about Zen not taking him out (but at least Zen bought him a drink). Kiki reminds Obi that he got a chance to talk to Zen at the Rugilia mansion after the perfume incident. Obi says they haven't exhausted convo yet. Mitsuhide says Shirayuki said not to bug Obi (at Rugilia mansion) because he was resting. Obi says that's weird because he does rest when he's with Shirayuki. Mitsuhide seems to disagree about whether Obi is truly resting.

Kiki: I guess Shirayuki got to know Obi well in their time together. Mitsuhide (seeing Obi's surprised face): Hmm? Is it surprising? Shirayuki cherishes you and your relationship with her. You don’t think it’s just your own will alone by which you are staying by Shirayuki’s side, do you? Obi: No... I know that in my own way. The young miss tells me that kind of thing. There's some more banter between Kiki and Obi. Kiki: I wonder where Zen and Shirayuki went. Mitsuhide: Ah~! I think they're going back to the base for a cup of tea. You see, we're leaving together tomorrow. That's why I left a room next to Zen's for Shirayuki to sleep in. Obi: What about me? Mitsuhide: You have a room in the base.

Zen and Shirayuki's date

Zen: I want to see if you are red. Why hide it? And then he says the Japanese expression of fond exasperation "まったく / mattaku". Anyway, I interpreted it as Zen wanting to see Shirayuki's blush from her staredown with Mitsuhide. Shirayuki: Thanks to the street lights, we still have time. (This is a reference to the end of last chapter, where Zen said it was already dark even though they finally had time together) Zen: Like this, the night will be longer.

Zen: Which tea stalls are good? Where should we sit? Shirayuki: Um, Zen, you're going back to your room at the base, right... Zen: Yeah... should we go back? There's only one room though... Shirayuki: (Shirayuki falters here a bit about what she wants to say) I... I still. I still wanted to stay with Zen. If you'll give me some time. I want to talk and drink flower tea until we get sleepy. Shirayuki: L-Lucian flower tea is what I want... Shirayuki (blushes then points): I think it's in the stall up there! I'll get you some.

Zen: Shirayuki, let's go together... (Shirayuki has run off)

Shirayuki remembers previous convo, from the inn in Ch 100. Zen had asked her then [What type of flower is in this tea?]. She basically ran off to compose herself because she is having trouble expressing her true desire of wanting to stay at the inn from last time.

Note that this is the inn that serves great food and tea, but you have to check-in for the night, it's not a restaurant. Last time, when they were trapped in the snowstorm, Shirayuki was uncomfortable because they were seemingly unchaperoned (they didn't know that Obi, Mitsuhide, Kiki were there too) and she probably doesn't want to burden Zen by going through that again. Last time she said, "Is it really okay for me to share the same room as his Highness, Prince Zen?"

Shirayuki (to herself): No matter how long you want to stay, we can’t stay at an inn. It's okay, Zen didn't realize. Zen comes back to find Shirayuki. Zen: Did you say Lucian? It's not here. Before, I had a cup of that flower tea with you.

Thanks to @alexmeli50 for the raws!

[blouptalking]

To Say the Least, This is Love

Hikaeme ni Itte mo Kore wa Ai / Love! That’s an Understatement

Fujimomo

comedy, romance, school life

9 chapters (ongoing)

“One day, a serious student named Risa, saves a wounded delinquent on her way home from cram school. Now, that delinquent Zen is following her around!! What will she do?”

(resume from Baka-Update Manga)

Story: 6/10

Why does Shojo have such a rapid rhythm these days? I really like when a story is well paced, especially when it's about romance, I think it's hard to find the right mix. The period during which the characters still flirt should not be too long nor too short, and there should still be things to explore and see once they start dating. Sadly, I feel like recent shojos tend to just completely skip the flirting part and make the two characters go out before the fifth chapter. Anyway, I had high expectations for this manga, same as “Uruwashi no Yoi no Tsuki”, but I was not really sure because I got a little bit disappointed with this manga. Well, for this one, it completely met all of my expectations, it’s even better than what I imagined it. The bad boy trope with the fight scenes and everything else doesn’t feel cringe at all. I was a little worried about this part of the story, but it's actually pretty "realistic" and not exaggerated, so this is really great! The one thing I could criticize is the speed at which this manga is. There are only nine chapters translated but I get the impression that everything went so fast between Risa and Zen.

Cast: 8/10

I have an indescribable love for Risa. I really like her personality. I love it when a character is down to earth and intelligent without exaggeration. Zen is also a great love interest. They go very well with each other. I wish we could see more of the supporting cast in future chapters, it would be fun.

Art: 8/10

The first thing I noticed about this manga, before even reading it, was the color pages and the color palette used. It is pleasant and very beautiful.

Enjoyment: 9/10

I really liked the story. l didn't expect that. I was afraid that the bad boy trope would be boring and cringe, but Zen is the perfect example of a good bad boy love interest. I think what got me to like the story even more is really Risa. She really left me speechless, she's such an amazing character. Anyhow, I would have given a 10/10 but like I said, the story is too fast. I have the impression that many things could have lasted longer, but it was still very amusing.

Overall: 9/10

[kameshwar]

When you start doing things consciously, you stop doing meaningless things. When you are present in the present, your mind stops chattering.

Today it was mostly a quiet day for me. Got up late in the morning today. Last night I could sleep at 1 AM in the night. Netflix was the culprit. I stayed awake late night because I was watching a film, ARTICLE 370. It was a film loosely based on the actual events that culminated in the final event , the abrogation of Article 370. The film is an eye-opener. I kept thinking about the film long after I had finished watching the film.

Today morning, I got up late and the Sun was already hot. I decided against going to the park for my regular grass walk. I took the car of an aunt who lives in the same apartment. She had requested me a few days ago to take her car for a drive. Otherwise the car battery dies down. The engine needs a little action every few weeks. She lives alone. She has no one to drive the car and keep it in drivable condition. She lost her husband to Covid in 2021. Her only son lives in America and her only daughter in Mumbai. She, the aunt, is a nice woman. She is also a good client. She invests her money through us. It was a Sunday morning and I was free . I took the car for a spin and came back after half an hour.

Coming back, I picked up the book ZEN & THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE for reading. This book is a popular read worldwide and has been so for more than 50 years. After a long time, I have picked up a book that is autobiographical in style. The book is an interesting read. This seems to be a book from a genre I like very much. Traveling, motorcycling, nature-watching, reading and introspecting- all these are so close to my heart. I wish I could do all those things all my life. This book has all those things. So far I have finished only 5 chapters, but I feel like picking up the book each time I sit at my study table.

I tried working out some appointments with my clients. None materialised. One had some other engagement while the other was out of the town.

After reading till 12 noon, I bathed and got ready as is my routine all days through week. I had to compensate for the lost sleep of the previous night. I lay down to have some sleep. Thankfully, no mobile calls came through during my sleep. At 3 PM, I got up and felt hungry. My wife had cooked rice and a vegetable from potato and and adding curd to it. The lunch was pure bliss. Simple home-cooked meals made with love are incomparable.

Of late, I have arrived at a life-stage where I have fallen in love with the food my wife prepares for me. It is not that she was not making tasty meals before. Two things have happened. First, she has been cooking meals for me for the last 26 years and she is gaining perfection as she is getting old. She always endeavours to cook light but healthy meals for me. She would not use much cooking oil or spices. Items that require adding sugar are seldom cooked.

Secondly, I have outgrown the desire of having fancy dishes at fancy restaurants. Meals cooked at hotels and restaurants no longer excite me. Now I generally avoid them. Now I truly understand why many people prefer home-cooked food even when traveling. My grandfather would rather stay hungry when he went on a day-long journey than eat anything cooked in the market places.

In the evening , my wife and I went out for buying some stuff from market. When we returned, I felt the craving for reading some more pages of the book, ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE. I finished around 20 pages and took a break.

Youtube didn't cause much distraction today. I was a little more vigilant about getting drifted in the wave of watching funny YouTube shorts. The only video I watched there a podcast where Peepal Baba was being interviewed . He has planted more than 2 million trees in the span of the last five decades. He is truly a nature-lover. He tells some very interesting aspects of human life. Buddha, Mahavira, Guru Nanak, Kabir and many others sang the song of life that gave them the ultimate joy. You sing the song of life that you feel like singing. You do what you are passionate about. That should become the psalm of your life. Day in day out, you sing the song of your life and you have a fulfilled life. What else do you need ?

[therubyreader]

My Review of Song of Silver, Flame Like Night by Amélie Wen Zhao

See a full list of my book reviews here

*Disclaimer: there will be spoilers later on in the review*

Review Word Count, non-spoiler: 725 Review Word Count Total: 1,385

I am back! After failing at NaNoWriMo (I was about 20k words short of the goal but it’s better than nothing and I refuse to hear anything from anyone!) I have returned to my roots and am writing a book review, everyone gasp.  

I come bearing a review for Song of Silver, Flame Like Night which I quite honestly only read because the cover was pretty and Chloe Gong, a favorite author of mine, has a quote on the cover recommending it. I will say that it was fine, I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m not Chinese that made not really get it, but I take full responsibility if that is, but I didn’t really get it. 

We are introduced to Lan, a girl living in the conquered city of Haak’gong where she is a song girl, a performer (singer, obviously) for the Elantian colonizers who have taken over her city by night while spending her days looking for answers as to what the scar her mother left on her wrist as a dying act, means. In her search for information on what the strange symbol only she can see is, a deadly encounter with the Elantians and the mysterious practitioner, Zen, leads her on the journey of a lifetime to learn more about the magic she can do and her mother’s final wish. 

Like I said earlier, the book was fine, I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t particularly like it. I did appreciate the references to Chinese history and culture, though I have minimal knowledge of it, I could see the parallels to real historical events mirrored in the story. I think what really threw me off from the story was the world building, while it was an interesting world, the way it was introduced and developed was, for lack of a better word, odd. Zen spends most of the first part of the book explaining how practitioners use magic and seals to Lan, which like sure she doesn’t know anything about it like the reader, but it is very info dump. And then once you think you get what’s going on the author will throw in some more world building at you at random points. There will be very tense scenes and just in the middle Zen will have to info dump at us again, talk about taking you out of the story.  

Adding onto that, the pacing was just strange, we would spend a lot of time with Lan and Zen walking through the woods then they would magically teleport to the secret practitioner school where we spent like two days and then they left and then there was a big battle that we got none of because this guy just blacked out. Also, when they’re at the magic school the author makes it seem like they’re there for months when in reality it was just like a week, which was jarring when they were talking about the timeline. And the beginning of the book just happens so fast, we essentially lose two characters in the first chapter almost as soon as they are introduced which only affects Lan until she and Zen leave Haak’gong and then mildly in passing at the end when Lan has her “with great power comes great responsibility” moment, which is almost literally word for word what she says. On top of that the characters were underdeveloped; I think there was a lot of room for character growth in the story that didn’t really happen. In fact, the Zen from the end of the book is so much worse than the Zen from the beginning, and Lan mostly stays the same save for her developing her magical abilities.  

Overall, I was entertained, I’m not going to lie and tell you that I didn’t enjoy the book, the world building and overall plot were exciting enough to keep me reading, though it did take a bit for me to really get into the groove. I do plan on reading the sequel since I am intrigued as to what happens next, especially with the cliffhanger ending we got with this book, and I do hope that the writing has improved since it is genuinely a unique and interesting story. All in all, I would give it a decent try, C’s get degrees, out of ten.  

Spoilers!! 

I feel like I complained a lot in my general no spoilers review, but I want to keep complaining because this is my blog and I do what I want. The first thing that really made me mad about the book was how the first two characters we are introduced to that are essentially Lan’s only friends, Old Wei and Ying, are immediately killed off. I guess they provide very mild motivation for Lan’s rise to herodom or whatever, but despite how important Lan tells us they are to her in the beginning they are essentially forgotten by the time Lan and Zen get to the magic school. I also just didn’t like how the first part of the book is essentially rushed in favor of showing us Lan and Zen’s budding relationship, which side note, them being “in love” with each other after like a month is the most teenager thing ever its insane.  

Also, not to mention it was never fully explained why Zen was in Haak’gong in the first place, I know he mentions to the Grand Master that he was studying Elantian fighting techniques but also, in the chapter that’s in his point of view, he mentions looking for the scroll Old Wei was going to give to Lan (which by the way whatever happened to that?). So, what was Zen really doing there and also why was he casually let outside when every master there, besides the Grand Master, didn’t trust him, you know, with the whole demon thing.  

Speaking of demons, what is their deal? Like they talk about the demon gods which based on my very limited understanding of Chinese mythology, they should be the good guys so why are they the villains? Also killing a god? What? And on top of that why are there still demons around bonding with people when most all practitioners are gone so how have they survived? Theoretically they should all be gone since there are no practitioners to keep them around so their energy should just go back into the world like the minor demon Zen killed in the beginning.  

Along those lines, why are Lan and Zen so eager to bond with demons knowing damn well the consequences of their actions. I said this during my Goodreads update (shameless plug) but they really are just giving their souls out like Halloween candy at one point. You know the consequences of your actions so why must you be like this!!! Lan spends the entire part of the book where she knew about Zen’s demon being scared of it and not understanding why Zen would ever do that to himself but then bonds with a demon at the end. Which like for the final battle and parallels, sure, but like what?? Also how are they going to destroy the demons when they’re bonded to Lan and Zen, will they have to just off each other in the end, I’m just genuinely curious how this is about to happen. I’m also super interested in how Lan is going to find the other demon gods; the fate of the azure tiger was a little iffy for me at the end so I’m genuinely curious how that is going to pan out. 

I think I will end up reading the second book in the series because the plot was interesting enough to keep me reading and I’m entertained easily. Honestly, despite my complaints the story was interesting enough to keep me interested for a solid chunk of the book and I have faith that the writing will improve because I look at the bright side of things. Once I do read the second book, since it comes out in like three weeks (or something) I will let you all know what I think about it, but I probably won’t read it immediately since my TBR is super long. Anyways, I’ll try to upload another review soon, goodbye to now!  

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

I come bearing another chapter! Here’s chapter 6 of gentiste origins! tw for injury and drugs ment in one panel. Enjoy!

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5

Tracer: Did you hear? Echo: Your brother Brig: And mccree, he Lucio, He went berserk, and- He kissed your brother! They’re together?? Genji: Oh my! [i knew] Ang: The man ran back into a collapsing building, Genji. Genj: Adds up

Genj: [in japanese] You look happy

Genj: He makes you happy Han: I... Yes, he does. Genji: I told you they’d support you two. But you are his boyfriend though, yes? That’s what you call eachother? Han: I... tend to prefer ‘partner’ over boyfriend, but the sentiment still stands. Why? What do you call Baptiste? Genj: EEH? ME and-?!

Genj: We’re not together? Han: OH. Genj: What gave you that impression? Han: You are together more often than not. You flirt like teenagers. You think I am blind? Have you /seen/ the way he looks at you?

Genj: Good morning, McCree! Jess: H-Hey, Genj Genj: Don’t look so nervous, mccree, I’m not the shotgun type and hanzo doesnt need protecting Jess: Who said I was nervous!

Jess: I’m sorry, Genj. I wanted tot tell you. Genj: Don’t fret, mccree, i am overjoyed! [I saw them together more once hanzo was released. More openly and closer than before. They did alot together. Ate together, sat in the same room together, trained together

[They’re content to just exist together and continue with business as usual. I’m genuinely happy hanzo has found a support system in mccree

[He looks at him so adoringly... I can’t help but ponder what he said. Have I truly not noticed that he could be looking at me the same way?

Zen: Genji. What troubles you? It has been some time since i’ve seen you this distant. Genj: Ah, sorry, master! Returning has given me many new distractions. I suppose I am questioning... my future. I am... stumped Zen: Unstaisfied with your relationship with Baptiste? Genj: What?! No! well, not in that way!

Genj: Baptiste treats me better than anyone i’ve ever been with. He’s incredible.I am afraid of how deep i have fallen for him... seeing hanzo so happy makes me pine more, but i-... My home is with the shambali. Zen: Humans are rather fascinating to me. While we omnics have souls like humans, we do not age, nor are we inclined to grow and evolve in the same way humans do. I believe you have grown from who you once were, just as I suspect baptiste has grown from his past self. I’ve taught you all I know about moving forward with one’s emotions; Perhaps you tow can learn new things together

Zen: I have always seen the shambali as a family, nit a place you must stay chained to. They love you, Genji. If you’ve found love and happiness, they would want you to go towards it. You will always have a home to return to should you need it. Live your life how /you/ wish to.

bap: [groggy] hey. stay. How is Zenyatta? Genj: Amazing as always! I’m glad he’s staying here now. I dont have to fret. Bap: Nice. Genj: I’m sorry I woke you. Welcome back. Bap: I wanted to see you. just tired

Bap: You’ve been in a cheery mood lately Genj:  You think? hmmm. Hanzo said something kind to me, And master soothed my doubts. Bap: The stars must have aligned to make hanzo be nice

Bap: I’m glad he spoke to you. Genj: [soft] Yeah, it made me feel really happy

genj: sleep. Bap: [YAWN] You can go if you-

[i want this.] Ganj: For me? smells good! Bap: Of course! you said you haven’t eaten yet. [I cannot let this mperson slip through my fingers. I seem to have everyone’s support as well. If /hanzo/ can manage a functional relationship, i should be fine?] genj: shoo, snoops Jess: C’mon, genj

[I’ll ask tomorrow] tracer: Gotcha! [genji yelps]

Tracer: That all you got, Genj? Sombra: He’s planning on seeing you soon. Be careful. Bap: Hey! Genji: Hello, may I come in?

Genj: Are you ok? Bap: Sorry, I’ve been on edge for some reason. Genj: No need to apologize

How dare you walk in here looking so handsome. oH GOD! [laugh] You’re like a cat

Genj: You look tired Bap: Aren’t I always? missed you

Genj: [Exhale] Bap: Something wrong? Genj:Ah. No, it’s nothing. Bap: That doesn’t sound like nothing. What’s on your mind? You can tell me.

Bap: woah! Genj: You make me so happy, Jean-baptiste. I hope you know that; you’re so good to me. Bap: Just giving what I believe is owed. paying off this debt you gave me. Genj: smooth

[bap chuckles] Genj: Jean Bap: hm? Genj: Are we dating?

Bap: Dating? Us? Did someone say we were? I know I- I don’t... Seriously, are you ok, Genji? This is coming out of nowhere; what made you bring all this up? Genj: Because I want to know, Baptiste. Because I do not wish for THIS

Genj: to only be about THIS. I have done THIS enough times int he past, and i don’t wish to keep repeating my mistakes! Bap: Woah, hey, hey, hey, easy there. Genj: [soothing me like a child?!] Bap: I thought.. we agreed we were just having fun here, Genji, i didn’t-

Genj: We were until... I thought I could handle this. But continuing this way just... isn’t healthy for me anymore. I don’t want you to become another lover I leave behind. Bap: You’re unhappy- I thought... Genj: Do you truly find this normal, Jean?

Genj: People think we are together because casual lovers do not stare like we do. My feelings have crossed the lines of casual, so I am asking, Do you only want me because I am convenient? Or is there hope of something more? Bap: Genji, please, what hap- Genj: You haven’t ANSWERED ME [zen: temper!]

I-

[natasha-in-space]

Cookies and Cupcakes

Pairing: Jaehee/gn!reader

Summary: Life's as busy as always after the long awaited opening of your own cafe. While on the road to achieving your dream, it can be easy to get lost in the hustle and miss out on the beauty of simple things life brings you. You make sure to remind Jaehee to take things slow and appreciate the peace you have.

"Ow-!"

A ringing cry tore through the previously serene atmosphere of a small cozy kitchen, interrupting the soft melody of Jaehee's humming along with one of Zen's numbers playing on the screen of a compact TV in the living room. Your reaction to the alarming sound was immediate: flinching and looking away from your current chat with Yoosung and Seven on the topic of your next get-together at a newly opened cafe. It's only been a week since that long-awaited day when all of your hard work finally paid off. Just a week since the beginning of this new unexplored chapter in the lives of you both. The following days were filled with so many new experiences, good and bad, but they all brought unprecedented colors to the former gray routine under which you had been so deeply buried before.

Jaehee was practically glowing at her new glossy counter, sharing her passion for coffee with each new customer visiting the cafe. Her sincere enthusiasm and positive energy was lighting up every nook and corner of the establishment. Seeing her so bright and cheerful brought a special kind of joy into your life.

And although you were not ready quite yet to share these new warm feelings blooming in your chest, making themselves known every time she once again laid her head onto your shoulder or called out your name with such a warm smile on her face, this new life was as sweet as ever.  

Either way, right now your thoughts were aimed in a completely different direction: forcing you to hastily leave the chat and, after putting your phone down on the coffee table, rush to the kitchen.

"Is everything all right, cookie?", - you asked, finally reaching the kitchen and quickly approaching her graceful figure, which was standing with her back turned to you at the kitchen cabinet. Jaehee swiftly turned around, still hissing through clenched teeth due to the pain. Though, she quickly brushed off your worries with a small wave of her hand.

"Looks like I got too invested in my singing for a moment and completely forgot where I was. Usually I don't have any problems, but today luck just isn't on my side... It's only a small cut, everything's okay. Sorry for worrying you, though."

She smiled as she quickly covered her injured finger with her good hand and moved away from the cutting board to avoid staining the kimchi still resting on it.

You sighed and shook your head as you approached the young woman and, pursing your lips into a thin line, lifted her delicate hand with a disapproving murmur that involuntarily slipped past your lips.

"You work too hard... Today is our day off - you don't need to try and do several things all at once, you know? You already cleaned the house from top to bottom. We could order take-out. I love your hard-working nature, but not when it hurts you, especially physically."

She lightheartedly rolled her eyes in response, grinning at your worried grumblings. Still, her hand remained in your grasp without any complaints on her side.

"You're exaggerating. Besides, how many times a week have I had to deal with you trying to take on my half of the work? Hearing lectures from you on the subject of overworking is not very reassuring, don't you agree?"

Well, you had no proper counterarguments to that. 

"...Ugh, I hate how you're always right.", - you muttered, helplessly puffing out your cheeks at her triumphant smirk. Although it was hard for the rest of the RFA to believe, Jaehee tended to be a lot more cunning than she appeared at first glance.

It's just that her teasing was mainly focused on you solely.

And you will never admit to her outright, that, in truth, you wished for this status quo to never change. You liked being the only person who had the privilege of seeing this more carefree and playful side of her. Even if it meant sacrificing your pride from time to time. 

Still, two can play this game. 

"Okay, that's it! No further work from you for today, Miss! I'll cook dinner for us both while you sit back and continue our planned musical marathon. Let me spoil you properly, you hear?"

You seemingly relented, letting a small mischievous smile light up your features, while gently pulling her towards you and stealthily leading her away from the kitchen cabinet. As expected, her confident facade shattered rather quickly, replaced by an adorable blush covering her cheeks and a pair of wide brown eyes staring at you in shock.

God, she's just too cute...

Completely unaware of how fast your heart was beating thanks to her antics, Jaehee timidly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, admitting her defeat by letting out a soft sigh and sagging her shoulders. 

"I don't deserve a good friend like you..."

Oh no, that simply will not do. 

You quickly cut that thought of hers off as you gently lifted her chin towards you and chuckled warmly at the beautiful woman standing in front of you. How could she possibly not see all that you saw in her...?

"Don't be silly, Jaehee. You're a wonderful, amazing person, and I'll never stop wondering what good could I possibly do to have fate bring me to you. I can't imagine anything better for myself. I'm the happiest I can be by your side. So, stop trying to do everything by yourself, and let me share these life's challenges with you, whether it's cooking dinner or having a heart-to-heart conversation... I'm just happy to overcome these obstacles together. We're partners, remember?"

You carefully laced your fingers together, now clasping her hand tightly in your own, like some unspoken alliance you were determined to follow.

Jaehee seemed a little taken aback by such a fiery speech, however, after a couple of moments passed you by, you could feel her delicate fingers gently holding onto your own in a warm, gentle grip.

"...I can't imagine anything better for myself either, Y/N." Soft words slipped from her lips in a timid half-whisper, filling your entire being with a ticklish warmth that was only matched by the cup of hot chocolate you shared last Christmas. It was obvious that it was still not easy for her to express her feelings in front of you so openly, thereby revealing the most hidden and vulnerable corners of her heart to you.

Which only made you appreciate these moments of sincerity between you two all the more.

A sudden growing wave of affection for this magnificent woman in front of you unexpectedly spurred you into a rather daring move, which you yourself were quite surprised by moments later. You took a slow and careful step forward, making sure she didn't want to back away or put more distance between you two. With that, you gently brushed a couple of loose brown locks from her forehead before placing a soft, brief kiss on it.

Pulling away from her, you only gave her a gentle, patient smile, trying to capture this moment in your memory as well as possible. From the soft tinge of her flushed cheeks to the pleasant warmth of her hand still clutching onto your own as if her life depended on it.

You didn't need to hear her answer now. And you didn't want anything in return from her.

Everything was just perfect as it is.

And so, you simply pulled her along, reassuringly running your thumb over the soft skin of her palm to soothe her to the best of your abilities.

"Let's go bandage your finger, cookie. We don't want any nasty infections in there after all!"

After a few moments passed by, Jaehee stiffly nodded, giving you the cutest giddy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

"I'll try to pay off my debt to you next week, cupcake."

-And just like that, your roles reversed once more, causing you to choke on your words in embarrassment and blush up to the tips of your ears while your partner giggled merrily and rejoiced in her temporary victory over you.

[whltlock]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: You make a pact with Jason.

Word Count: 8,361.

You placed a hand where his cheek should be, wishing you could feel the texture of his skin instead. “I need one more thing.”

He groaned into your leg. “You’re gonna bleed me dry.”

You let out a huff. “Just answer me, alright? Did you miss me?”

He snorted as he remembered his rooftop dramatics. “Ask Roy.”

You would later—whatever that meant—but, “No. You have to say it.”

“Missed you as much as you missed me,” he offered.

“Zilch?”

His nose twitched. “A fraction more than that, yeah.”

You harrumphed. He absentmindedly drew circles where his palm sat atop your ankle. The glove felt rough against your skin.

His chin jutted in your direction, brazenness abound. “Why else would I come crawling back?”

Your heart leapt against your rib cage like you had just completed a ten-K run. You simply stared at him as you tried to ward off a stroke amidst all these confusing feelings.

He couldn’t stay away.

He couldn’t stay away from you.

Morning came too fast. Pitiful hostility funnelled in as soon as streaky sunlight bombarded your vision. There was no escape from the situation since you didn’t have work. You threw your head against the pillows with a pissed off growl. So what if you were having a child-like tantrum?

With another strangled noise, you pulled yourself from your bed, deciding the next best thing to do would be to lock yourself in the bathroom. You picked out some random clothes, but paused as you spotted Jason’s hoodie. In silent protest, you tossed it onto the floor.

The shower burned hotter than your hatred, draining you of it briefly. You felt more Zen as you stared at your reflection. You’d scorched some colour into your cheeks. Your eyes dropped, down your neck, to your chest. The scalding water had irritated the scarcely-healed wound there. You prodded at it but flinched as it stung to the touch. You shook your head, telling yourself to stop it. You slapped some moisturiser on top and pulled on a very not-red jumper.

Your sour mood returned as soon as your feet left the cool tile. Roy was swift to navigate into your path. His arms slung across the door frame to create an impenetrable barricade. You let out a loud huff.

“Good morning, sunshine.” His voice sounded so light and unconcerned. You looked up at him through narrowed eyes, scrutinising how best to push past. He let his body lean in the same direction you glanced.

“Can you rot elsewhere?” you seethed, although it was barely posed as a question.

Roy’s head tilted as he hummed, amused. “I forgot how much of a morning person you are.” You clucked your tongue. He then uttered a phrase that filled you with dread: “I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes darted to him. “What?”

“Jason’s still here.”

Panic was quickly replaced with your prior sentiment. “Of course he is,” you groaned.

Roy sighed. “Look, you don’t have to talk to him, okay? But he’s my friend, so can you play nice, please?”

You crossed your arms. Had Roy blacked out about what you’d told him last night?

“He must have magic hands,” you said patently.

“What?” He blinked, and the second he understood, his arm wrung your neck for the gross comment. “You’ve got a potty mouth.”

You tried to shrug him off. “Why else would you defend him?” you argued.

“Na-uh,” he crowed, pulling you tighter to his chest with a burgeoning smile. “You’ve been the one in his bed.” Your face felt hot at once, and his grin only grew with your embarrassed silence. His next words were spoken against your temple, “So, maybe you should be telling me about them magic hands, huh?”

You scoffed weakly. “It wasn't like that.”

“What was it like, then?” Roy asked, and this time he sounded genuinely curious. He allowed you to break free of his grasp as he rested against the doorframe. He peered at you as he waited.

Heat rippled over your skin in blazoned waves. “We were... friends.” You swallowed, struggling to voice the word. “Until he decided otherwise.”

His tone was serious as he said, “He’ll make it right.”

“Maybe I’m all out of second chances.”

He wore a smile that said he knew that stupid fuck had wriggled under your skin. You looked away, unnerved.

“One more thing.”

Exasperated, you heaved, “What now?”

Roy shifted, posture straightening as he stared at you intently. “You can trust me, okay? No more hiding things. All my secrets are yours from now on.”

Your face creased. “I don’t need to know everything.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “You’re gonna know it all.” He stuck his fist out and his smallest finger waggled.

You had to laugh, smacking his hand away. “Really? A pinky promise?”

He grabbed your hand. “Hell yeah, baby. Harper promise; ten-year warranty, guaranteed.”

You tried to keep your face neutral, really, but the sight of Jason in your kitchen made you scowl. Roy nudged you as he went past, slipping into a seat behind the counter. You tried to compose yourself as you joined him.

“Jaybird, you shouldn’t have,” Roy said cheerily, reaching over to pluck from the stack of toasted bread.

Jason snatched the plate from his reach. “Not for you.”

“Oh?” Roy mused, tipping backwards in the chair. Burly arms crossed over his chest as he sported a smug smile. “Who’s it for, then?”

There was a lacklustre silence as the two men stared each other down. You couldn’t tell, but Jason’s eyes dashed to you and back.

He deflated, tossing the bread at Roy with a surly, “Fine.”

You eyed Jason’s hands—still gloved—as he made more toast. It was odd to realise he’d been making you breakfast. Like the good old days, you wanted to scoff.

Formulaically, he slathered one piece in Nutella. It was when he reached for another jar that you intervened. “I don’t like Marmite anymore,” you said, maintaining your aloof façade.

His hands hovered over it, measuring your words. Slowly, the helmet lifted. “What do you want instead?”

To your annoyance, he didn’t sound bothered.

“Peanut butter.”

There was another beat before he said, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No. You don’t like peanut butter,” Jason asserted.

You frowned. Shit.

Roy rolled his eyes. He happily munched on his plain, buttered bread without your argumentative natures colliding. “It’s jam now,” he said out of spite.

You set your glare on Roy, nostrils flaring. He looked back in challenge.

“Boysenberry,” he supplied obnoxiously, crumbs falling from his mouth.

Jason checked your reaction to confirm it was true before he reached for the purple jar.

He slid the plate across the counter to you once he was done. You glanced down at the toast. After a moment, you picked it up and spun around on the chair so the two could watch your back while you ate in peace.

Roy let out an exhausted noise. “Two peas in a fuckin’ pod.”

The afternoon view from the apartment was in no competition to the one at night, but Jason had to admit it was decent all the same. In between all the sprawling buildings he’d catch glimpses of the Wayne Conservatory. People watching was easy from the window sill where he perched.

All you would find outside his safehouse’s window was disrepair and litter. Not a single soul lurked unless it was for nefarious purposes. No wonder you preferred it here.

Jason glanced at you for the millionth time that hour. Raven had gifted you a handmade card deck. Each card was adorned with a drawing of a villain or antihero that had plagued Gotham at one point or another. The gold details glinted in the light each time you moved them. He was impressed with her artistic efforts.

However, whenever you revealed the Arkham Knight, he flinched. Guilt stirred in the shallow depths of his stomach. He had to question why Raven had included it—as some kind of message? Still, she’d somehow made him look beautiful in all of his depravity.

He much preferred the other characters: the three Doctors—Harley, Pamela, and Abby, along with Swamp Thing, Riddler, Kid Flash, and Catwoman. There was one of Raven herself, which made him shake his head with an amused smile. She’d even added Arsenal, which had left Roy haughtily pleased.

You’d told Roy that she’d offered to draw a card of yourself if you ever wanted. You’d tried to hide your smile after that, not over-indulging in the vision of you as a powerful vigilante.

Afterwards, you’d glared at Jason when he offered to join you in a round of something.

You resorted to playing a memory game with yourself. You shuffled the cards and lined them up in rows, then overturned them to find pairs. He had watched you miss by a single card too many times when he blurted out, “It’s the next one.”

Your hand hovered over the card you wanted to flip. Your eyes drifted sideways to find him, narrowed in ire and suspicion. He shrugged off his anal-retentiveness and looked out the window. He heard your frustrated noise a few seconds later.

“How can you even see from there?”

He glanced back at you. Your eyebrows were pinched as you stared at the correctly matched pair.

“Believe it or not, I have eyes.”

The comment made you glower. You grumbled a mimicry of his words but continued to play nonetheless.

He caught your next mistake. He couldn’t help himself. “Wrong.”

Your eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re wrong,” you snapped.

His chin tilted in defiance. “Flip it over then.”

You did as he said. The pair didn’t match. Angrily, you turned the one beside it. His choice had been correct.

You didn’t want to ruin the striking cards, but a quiet rage flared inside of you. You pulled yourself away before you accidentally destroyed them. Your fists balled up as you tried to restrain yourself. “Why don’t you go back to whatever sewer you crawled out of?” The venomous words spilled from your throat, tasting like metallic shards on the way out.

He remembered the green, oozing pit; the water thick with whatever magical properties it had been infused with. It washed away the dirt and blood under his nails. It had stung when it penetrated every cut, as well as felt disgusting as it seeped into his marrow and bones, reminding him that his life force had been snatched once before. That maybe even resurrected, it wasn’t his to claim.

It had bestowed him with renewal, then gifted him with the shrieking madness of life.

Jason clicked his tongue, head lolling. “Tried that. No refunds or returns on damaged goods.”

You bit back a huff of deranged laughter at his self-deprecation. It was more sad than funny, but the redirection was necessary. You felt the curls and flurries of anger diminish. You channelled steadier breathing.

Your fingers traced the card you were most curious about. A green-caped humanoid rested beside the Knight. He appeared in a ghostly, cosmic veil. You’d never heard his name mentioned before. You swallowed your pride for the sake of answers. “Who’s the Spectre?”

Jason stared at you for a long minute, recalling the barebones information he had on that name. Characters like him were in Raven’s ballpark, not his, so he hadn’t deigned to know much more than the basics.

“Inter-dimensional being,” Jason said. “Thinks he’s a God. Better to run the other way if you cross paths.”

You snorted. “Good to know.”

You ignored Red—or were you supposed to call him Jason now?—as you carried your clothes basket to the laundry. He’d peeked out from the kitchen when your soft footfalls entered the hallway. You pretended you couldn’t feel his eyes or when he physically began to follow you.

It had been three days since he’d shown up, and he’d spent the entire time annoying the shit out of you. If this was his way of making it up to you—like Roy had said he would—it was a haphazard attempt.

In your periphery, you saw him lean one shoulder against the doorframe while eerily silent. His arms folded as his gaze remained on you. He must’ve been planning his next bout of nuisance. You acted nonchalant as you tossed your garments into the washing machine.

Unfortunately, his handler wasn’t available today. Roy had needed to go into work, leaving you two alone in the suddenly all-too-small apartment. The only distance you could put between you and him was your bedroom. You were starting to think he might try to annoy you in there, too, if he got bored and brave enough.

In the next moment, Jason snatched an item from the basket. You were ready to shred him apart but faltered when you heard his scrambled speech: “I’ve been looking for this.”

You stilled, a cold awareness filling your veins as you saw the dash of crimson. You tried to breathe through the humiliation that you knew was coming.

“It was on Roy’s floor,” you told him, barely sparing him a glance. You distracted your twitchy hands by continuing to empty the basket.

He snorted. “Yeah? Is that right?”

Icily, you simply answered with, “Yup.”

You placed the basket on the floor. Turning to Jason, you attempted to pluck the jumper from his grasp. However, as soon as you had your hands fisted in the material, he yanked it to his body, causing you to stumble into him. Your indignant words died on your tongue when you were met with his broad chest. You jerked your head back before it could slam into the chin of his helmet.

Jason beat you to airing his thoughts. “Pretty sure you were wearing it last. So, how’d it end up on Roy’s floor, sweetheart?” You thought he crooned the words.

One hand dropped from the jumper to rub at your eye and brow. You’d grown weary of the implication that you’d been tossed between two men. In a deflated breath, you told him, “Maybe someone would want to leave it on your floor if you were nicer.”

He let go of the jumper, allowing you to dump it into the machine. Jason shifted on his feet. “Uh, I didn’t mean to—sorry—” he cut himself off. “I know nothing’s happened.”

“And what if it had?” you looked at him, forehead furrowed petulantly.

“Well, I was here,” he pointed out. The tension bled from his shoulders as he heard the lack of usual bite from you. “Besides, Roy’s with Donna.”

You gave a noncommittal hum, moving to pour detergent into the washing machine. You closed the lid with a pop. The silent friction between you two was broken with the cute chime of a start cycle.

You grabbed the basket on your way out of the room, passing by him as you went. He still stared at you as if in anticipation.

You halted your steps when you practically felt Jason breath down your neck. You whirled around, brows raised expectantly. “What?”

“You don’t, right?”

You almost didn’t understand with how soft spoken it was. You also wanted to pull your hair out because of his penchant for vagueness. “Don’t what, Red?”

He didn’t answer for a beat, riling you up further. Then, he gave you a stiff, one-word reply: “Roy.”

Understanding dawned. You stared at him, expressionless, but couldn’t help the fiendish smile that gradually stretched across your face. His fists clenched as if he’d handed you something he really hadn’t meant to. It only made you smile bigger.

At its full width, you spun on your heel and continued to walk away.

“Wait, hey—” Jason stammered. He pronounced your name like it was a question, wanting a real answer. He limped after you to catch up. He called your name, louder this time.

When you faced him again, it was with that same damned smirk.

“You know,” you started, nose wrinkled as if you’d caught a whiff of something bad, “maybe you should consider doing some laundry. When was the last time you changed?”

You gave him one last smug look, brows tilted towards your forehead before you disappeared into your room. Jason stepped after you, but he caught the tail end of your hair and a door to the face.

He let his head drop against the wood with a thud. His curse escaped in a low hiss, hands pressed against his helmet, “Fuck me with a chainsaw.”

You strolled into the kitchen with more of a pep in your step than usual. You were determined to enjoy your day, especially after having taken some of the power back from Jason. The anxious burden you carried felt less weighty under your newly acquired knowledge.

You weren’t entirely sure if it was a case of jealousy or overzealous concern on his part, but you’d take what you were given. If he stepped out of line, you could tease him back into place.

But as your eyes swept the apartment, you found it lacking said person’s presence.

Roy looked up from his phone to greet you. “Hey, you.”

“Good morning.” You smiled at the mess that he didn’t bother to wipe from his mouth. “Where’s...” Your tongue tied over whether you should—or even could—use Jason’s name. You decided to play it safe. “Where’s our guest?”

“Dunno,” Roy met your smile with his own soft one. “Think he jumped out the window when I turned around earlier.”

You snorted. “Sounds about right.” You sighed, eying Roy’s breakfast spread pitifully. “I’m going to be late.”

In turn, he held out his arm with the piece of toast, offering you a bite. You leaned forward to chomp at it greedily. “Thanks, Roy.”

He gave a short chuckle as you dodged his attempt to ruffle your hair. You tsked at him.

“Are you going in today?” you asked, moving to fill your water bottle.

“Yeah, later on. I’m staying overnight,” he told you. “Ah...”

You waited for him to finish his sentence, but the end never came. You eyeballed him with a confused expression.

He winced, brows pulling towards his nose. “Jason might... come around.” He watched your face as he expected a negative reaction. However, you said nothing as you screwed the cap on your bottle.

“Is that okay? If not, you can come eat with us at the centre—”

You blew out air and joined him at the counter. “I’ll come visit after work since you need my free labour so bad. Maybe grab some donuts along the way.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “How benevolent.” He dusted his hands off. “And Jason...?” he asked, trying to reign in his hopefulness.

You sighed, rocking the bottle in your hands. “He better bring groceries and his best behaviour.”

Roy’s mouth twitched. “He always does.”

You huffed out a laugh at the despicable, only half-true comment.

“Another thing...” he trailed off. He grinned as you glared. He wanted to laugh because boy, you did not like surprises. “He left you something.” His chin jerked towards a bag on the end of the bench.

It caught you off guard and consequently, “What?” slipped out.

You moved so you could peek into it. The first thing you saw was a post-it note with ‘sorry’ written in his usual pretty font. You held it to the light. “Stellar apology,” you commented drily.

Roy tried not to snicker. “I told you, he’s trying.”

You hummed. As you parsed through the rest of the contents, your breath hitched.

He’d made you soup.

It was such a stupid thing to frazzle you, but you loved soup. It was in your top five foods, for sure. Jason had probably figured that out, too.

It wasn’t hard to guess, you countered.

Roy dumped his utensils in the sink, but he threw you a knowing smirk when you glanced his way. Your head ducked.

As you rummaged, you found a bakery bag at the bottom. Warmness fluttered in your chest at the familiar crinkling. Your stomach grumbled when the smell of fresh bread and a berry muffin hit your nose.

You looked up at Roy. You did your best to appear unconvinced, despite how Jason practically had you eating out of the palm of his Godforsaken hand. “I can't be bought with food.”

Roy laughed in dismissal. “You’ve proven that’s not true.”

With a huff, you snatched his gift off the counter before storming towards the door. To your dismay—and Roy’s boisterous delight—you had to stop to put on your shoes before you could actually leave.

Red’s footfalls fell into step with yours within a block of leaving the youth centre. The escort was unnecessary since you were plenty capable, but more importantly, the evening had only just skimmed into twilight. The overhead lamps flickered to life as they were switched on along the street. You watched the awful strobing dapple your skin as you walked beneath them.

You didn’t engage with Jason, intent on making it home to flop onto the couch as soon as possible. It had been a long day. You’d channelled all of your upbeat and sarcastic capabilities into entertaining the kids at the library—as well as Tia—and later on, with helping Roy. Now you just wanted to recharge, preferably with something greasy and/or over-the-top sweet. You knew Jason wouldn’t give into that request so easily, though.

Clumsily, you tripped over a crack in the path. The pavement tiles met like crushed tectonic plates, creating a noticeable—except to you—height difference. His glove was swift to wrap around your elbow and pull you upright. The small touch reminded you of the time you’d run after him, having the time of your life before he’d succumbed to a hallucination.

You cleared the thickness from your throat. It was neither a thank you nor an outright rejection. You took your arm back, but not unkindly. Instead, you kept your eyes forward, trying not to let the memory burn a hole in your brain.

“Complete silence is a new one.” He said it in an incredulous tone as his eyes passed over you. “How’s trying it on for size?”

You rounded the corner without acknowledging it. You didn’t have the energy to respond to his goading, even if he meant it playfully. He hadn’t even bought groceries, by the looks of it.

He changed tactics. “How’s Roy?”

Your brows squished together. They’d seen each other this morning. You did him the honour of showing him your befuddlement.

“Okay...” The mechanics in his helmet grinded on the dragged-out word. “Do you want to hear about my day?” he asked. He didn’t wait before continuing. “Great. Well, woke up early so I could arduously cook soup. After that, I dragged myself down to the bakery, and then...—”

The rant sounded so odd behind its guise, but you listened more attentively than you’d planned to. An involuntary smile twitched at your lips. “‘Arduously?’” you echoed, sparing him a look of disbelief. He seemed to misinterpret it as not understanding the English word.

“Oh, right. Sorry. Worked hard on it,” he explained.

“It’s soup.”

“So?” he said, offended. “I put effort into it.”

“It’s soup,” you repeated. “You cut things up and let it simmer.”

Jason scoffed at you. “You’re an ungrateful brat, you know that?”

You smothered your smile with the edge of your sleeve. “So?”

He let out a strangled squawk. “‘So?’ Here I am telling you about my day and you have the gall to write me off like that.” He couldn’t keep up with his betrayed cadence; it dissolved into a snicker he tried to brush off.

You circled back into his path, forcing him to freeze. He stopped just short of a hair’s breadth from you, the toes of your boots knocking against each other. Your eyes tracked a slow path from his chest to his face. With a thoughtful noise, you mused, “I think you like it.”

“Like hell,” he said. “You’ve ruined my day.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, not breaking eye contact. “Why’d you laugh, then?”

He faltered. “I’d never.”

You gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Whatever you say, Red.” You decided it was more comfortable to call him that, as opposed to his actual name. It didn’t feel like you’d been given the privilege, even if he used yours.

Realising his blunder, Jason stepped forward. His chest plate bumped into you; a move that would have knocked you back easily if he’d put more force into it. “I didn’t,” he insisted.

Your hand reached out, covering the short distance to his body. Somewhere near his abdomen, you tugged at the jumper that peeked from under his leather jacket. You played with the fabric, fingers twisted into it. It brought him closer.

You heard how his breath quickened at the action; his pecs moved up and down, noticeable in the lack of distance. His Adam’s apple bobbed from beneath the collar of his black shirt. You let yourself admire the view momentarily.

Your eyes flicked upwards to meet his. The seconds dragged on.

You broke the trance with, “How do you sleep at night, being such a liar and all?”

He grabbed your wrist with a snort. “Like a baby.”

You harrumphed and tried to break free, but he didn’t let go. Gracelessly, he stepped after you.

“We’re not doing this again,” you groaned, wriggling against him.

“But we had such fun last time.”

You glared at him. “You call me a brat.”

He lifted his shoulders in feigned nonchalance.

Your chin tilted upwards defiantly. “Either hold my hand or let go.”

Jason seemed to choke at that and his grip went loose despite not entirely disappearing. You took the opportunity to link your thumbs together as pay back. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it was what he deserved, you reasoned.

Jason regained his voice with a shake of his head. “Ultimatums are petty.”

Disinterested, you swung your hands between you. There was a long, somewhat awkward hush as you both stood there, neither willing to give in.

You glanced at him when it began to bother you. “Did you really not know about the stuff with Dick?”

He shifted on his feet. “No. I don’t keep tabs on him like that. Roy only mentioned he had problems with Donna.” He sighed as he looked at your connected hands. “Should’ve known Dick was a part of the mess. Sticks his mitts in everything.”

The way his fingers squeezed yours, unconsciously or not, made you swallow. “Is that the truth?”

“It is.”

You stared at the ground, contemplating the sincerity of his words.

Eventually, you asked, “Why didn’t you bring your bike?”

He shrugged, not having a good reason.

“I don’t want to walk. Give me a piggyback.”

For the first time since appearing by your side, he remembered that you were in public. His eyes swept over your surroundings nervously. “Someone could see,” he said, voice quiet.

Curiously, it wasn’t a straight-out no.

Your childish behaviour was only slightly annoying to him. The other half... it was a little endearing, if he was honest. It was cute to watch your tiredness transform into something clingier.

“Do it, or else,” you threatened.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll put a spike up your ass.”

Jason had to laugh. “That’s a good one.”

You nodded in affirmation to yourself. “I know.”

His knuckles brushed past where his jaw would be, thinking it over. “Alright,” he said finally. He crouched low enough for you to climb on. You smiled widely when you realised he was serious.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you up. His gloves pressed into your thighs, securing you in place. It was kind of crazy, you knew, but were too tired to be worried tonight. If he wronged you, you could always follow through with your warning.

You eyed his helmet. It would be so easy to pluck it from him. With a knock against the metal, you said, “It’d be less weird if you took this off, you know.”

The arms gathered around you stiffened, but as he stood tall, he said nothing. You sighed, letting your nose drop to the back of his neck. The helmet was colder than your own skin. You felt his muscles ripple beneath you as he readjusted his hold.

“You’re so thick,” you mumbled through a yawn. A light chuckle reverberated through his chest at that. Despite your smile, a heavy thought hung over you:

If Red—Jason—was going to stick around, to provoke you or flirt or whatever the hell this was, you were going to have to have an actual, heart-to-heart conversation.

You were pretty sure that having teeth pulled in a back-alley—with a fake dentist and no anaesthesia—would be more fun.

You two compromised when it came to meal time: if you ate something healthy for dinner, he would make you a stupidly sweet dessert.

Reluctantly, you’d agreed, mostly due to your intrigue of what else he had up his sleeve, baking-wise.

Somewhere between then and now you’d fallen into a light sleep. Head tilted back, your arms were slung wildly across the couch. Slow breaths filtered past your parted lips. You could feel yourself slipping into the dream realm. Only the pottering of someone nearby kept you connected to the Gotham scape.

You were glad you were jolted fully awake when Jason plopped down at your feet. Your eyes scrunched as it took a few moments to adjust to the lit-up apartment. You squinted as you checked on the scene in front of you.

A charcoal-coloured pan sat in Jason’s lap. Steam wafted off it. You straightened at the glorious sight of a hot dessert. You couldn’t help but salivate as the smell of freshly-baked cookies overwhelmed your senses.

He’d outdone himself, you had to admit. The pan was giant: far too indulgent a serve for one person, although you were willing to try. It was gooey in the centre, topped with a scoop of ice cream and drizzled in sauce. Jason had added sliced strawberries and crumbled Oreos. You weren’t sure where he scavenged them from.

“Huh.” Your voice was raspy from your nap. You crawled onto your knees so you could inspect the dish. Your looked up at him, then back to the mesmerising cookie.

You eagerly reached out to claim it as your own, however, a glove immediately smushed into your cheek, shooing you away. You made an indignant noise as you tried to get past.

“Excuse you,” Jason scoffed, holding the pan above your head. You aimlessly fought him, grabby hands outstretched.

The glove slipped from your face, affording you a sliver of freedom, but your next attempt was blocked with a light smack.

“Give it to me,” you grumped.

“Sit down,” Jason ordered.

Ever so petulant, you said, “Get out of my house.”

He huffed. “For fuck’s sake, d’you wanna get burned? Sit down and I’ll give it to you.”

You felt stupid, not having realised he’d brought the pan over with a tea towel propped underneath. His gloves must have protected him from the heat. With a long whine, you fell into the cushions.

Jason let out an exasperated noise when he realised you weren’t going to sit properly. Nonetheless, he pushed the dish onto your chest.

“Spoon,” you said, and on second thought, added, “Please.” You stuck out a hand.

“You’re gonna choke if you eat like that,” he said. Perhaps unbothered by the idea, he passed one over.

“You can resuscitate me,” you said, paying him no mind. You were more focused on the melting ice cream.

He snorted. That one might come down to a coin toss, really.

The sourness on your face dissipated as soon as you stuck a spoonful of that deliciousness in your gob. You let out a pleased hum.

“Good?” Jason asked with an amused lilt. You looked at him and begrudgingly nodded. “You gonna quit with the temper tantrum now?”

His words ignited your delinquent tendencies. Staring him straight in the eye, you used the spoon as a slingshot and catapulted a sloppy part of the cookie directly at his helmet. It hit its target with a plip. You watched it slide down the metal slowly—cinematically, even. A satisfied smirk blossomed.

He fixed you with a murderous glare, hidden eyes baring down on you like it would make you vanish. And then, unexpectedly, he yanked the loose end of your pants to use as a napkin. You slipped with the movement, slapping yourself in the face with the utensil.

Your mouth popped open. “Bi-tch,” you pronounced the insult in two syllables. Fingers scratched at the stickiness on your nose. Even though you couldn’t see him, you were sure he wore a proud look with the way his chin lifted.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, sweetheart,” he crooned. Your breath hitched at the combination of the pet name and how his fingers tightened around your ankle.

You pressed your lips together and glanced elsewhere.

It was like he couldn’t live with the stain as he sighed to himself. “Sorry. I’ll clean it.”

He dropped your leg as he stood. You kept your eyes focused on the blank television screen. In its reflection, you saw his mirrored movements. Water dripped from the tap even after he screwed it tight.

Jason was gone thirty seconds, tops. You noticed his helmet was wiped clean when you looked at him again. You moved upright, placing the cookie dish on the coffee table.

When Jason sat down, he tugged your dirty pant leg in between his knees. He wordlessly scrubbed at the mess until it was gone. Every gentle touch was reminiscent of when he’d wiped your bloody wound.

A million speeding thoughts raced through your brain as you watched him work. Your veins singed, little fireflies tormenting you within. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek, you were reminded of how you needed to fulfill your self-promise.

Jason’s attention skirted upwards as he recognised the sudden change. “What?” He sounded as apprehensive as you felt.

You gave him a moment to finish up before you inhaled. You scooted closer, letting your socked toes press into the inside of his thigh. “We have to...” You tried to steady your words. “We need to talk. Seriously.”

‘Seriously?’ That was a convincing use of language, you reprimanded yourself.

He toyed with the bottom hem of your pants, head low. “Oh.” And as if he didn’t know, he asked, “Uh. What about?”

“Are you staying?”

“I can leave if you want,” he told you earnestly.

“That’s not...” You ground your forehead into your knee out of frustration. Was he being dense on purpose? “Are you doing this to be cruel?”

His head jerked. “Why would I do that?”

“You tell me!” Your voice rose. “You said you didn’t care about me and wanted me out of your life. But now you won’t leave.” It was like he derived pleasure from sticking around and annoying the shit out of you. In the meantime, you were left in limbo with scraps of a companionship.

You did your best to cool down.

His eyes levelled on you, the muscles in his throat working overtime. He was starting to feel claustrophobic with the way your legs trapped him in place. “I know I can’t undo what I did.”

“That’s not enough, Red. Why are you here?”

“I... I’m sorry,” he breathed out, shallow and lame. “I regret how I treated you, alright? But I don’t know what else to do.”

Confusion pinched at your features. “If you're making amends, then... you need to talk, I think.”

His hands fell from their perch. “Is that...” He swallowed, simultaneously avoiding your eyes while also trying to read your body language. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s a start?” you said unsurely.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“I don’t like that you care about me,” he spat, and false heat flared in his mechanical tone. “I hate it, because you seem to think I’m worth getting yourself killed over.”

You scoffed at the one-eighty turn he’d taken. “Well, you sure as hell need someone to care about you, since you won’t do it.”

Jason’s line of sight dropped to his fingers, curled like claws in his lap. Was it that obvious that he danced the tight rope between an unfathomable future and a death wish?

No reply divined Jason, oddly offput by your ability to un-mask a man without touching him.

“You made your choice, let me make mine.”

A harsh noise escaped the back of his throat. “No. I won’t let you make the wrong one.”

“Have you ever considered that it’s dangerous knowing me?”

He heard the frustration seep into your tone, cutting into him obtrusively.

Had he? No, not really—he hadn’t given the idea a second thought beyond you having the ability to lead someone to his location. Because they wanted him, not you. It would’ve made for a good argument if he wasn’t a stubborn jackass.

He was struck by his own self-absorption. “You never talk about it,” Jason tried to reason lowly.

“We’re going in circles.” You rubbed your hands along your clothes in a self-soothing manner. “The point is—”

“Why?” he croaked, voice breaking. “Why am I worth it to you?”

Well, if he was already being selfish, what was a little more? The pile hadn’t crumbled under its weight yet, and he was far from risk-averse.

“Because—get it through your thick fucking skull—we’re friends!”

Jason sagged into himself. “What does that mean?”

“It means—we have an understanding. It means I accept your brooding and laugh at your shitty puns.”

“They’re not shitty,” he mumbled.

You let your head lay against the couch’s headrest. You focused on the criss-cross sensation as you recollected your thoughts. “Why did you come back to me?” The question was came out meek; you were both curious and afraid to hear the answer.

His helmet turned towards you. “I... I can't help it. It’s... things are—they’re easier with you.” His voice dissolved into a bitter laugh. “You don’t know my past.”

“You’re not making this easy.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. He knew all the right words to make a show-stopping speech; he also knew how to twist it to his own disservice. “Make it easy for me, Red,” you finally implored.

He was reminded of Roy’s rant about love—that he needed to stop being so hard-headed to make any kind of progress in his life. Guess it could be applied here, he almost laughed in bemusement.

Jason let his head rest the same way you had. He stared at the ceiling, processing his feelings. Just maybe, he wanted it to apply here.

It was a stressful thought.

You two sat in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, your eyes drifted from his to the blank TV screen. Your fingers wrung your wrist as you replayed the last ten minutes. Surely you were destined to lose against this ego-maniac who refused to enjoy his own existence.

His palms lifted to the front of his helmet, shielding himself from you.

“Are you staying or not?” you exclaimed, set off by the movement, “because if you are, you can’t do that anymore. You don’t get to come and go as you please.” Your heaved words tapered off into upset, shallow breaths. “You have to stay for good.”

He couldn’t stand the tension. The way you pulled at his heartstrings. Another God damn ultimatum. But he deserved it, he knew that. No one wanted someone that was only present for half their fucking life. He was surprised Roy let him return, week after week.

His hands dropped from his face. “Alright.”

Your neck practically snapped. “What?”

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

You blinked.

“I won’t leave you, if you don’t leave me.”

Your lips formed around words that hadn’t yet been thought of. “That’s... that’s a big commitment,” you said, at a loss.

He grew more confident now, having stumped you. “You’re not up for it?”

You shook your head, not in disagreement. You chose your phrasing carefully. “It just shows our issues.”

Jason shrugged. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Your laugh was short.

The room fell silent.

He shifted. The nervousness in his voice was obvious as he asked, “That enough for you?”

You nodded slowly under the heavy implication. “For now.”

“That’s good,” he swallowed. His helmet dropped against your knee. “Always been happy with whatever you give me,” he muffled into cloth as flames rippled across his skin at the confession.

A coy smile pulled at your mouth once you comprehended what he’d said. He tried to hide from it, curling his bicep around your calves, wanting to sink into your skin.

You placed a hand where his cheek should be, wishing you could feel the texture of his skin instead. “I need one more thing.”

He groaned into your leg. “You’re gonna bleed me dry.”

You let out a huff. “Just answer me, alright?”

“These violent delights.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to say that?”

“It’s who I am.” But still, he peeked at you, awaiting your next line of interrogation.

“Did you miss me?”

He snorted as he remembered his rooftop dramatics. “Ask Roy.”

You would later—whatever that meant—but, “No. You have to say it.”

“Missed you as much as you missed me,” he offered.

“Zilch?”

His nose twitched. “A fraction more than that, yeah.”

You harrumphed. He absentmindedly drew circles where his palm sat atop your ankle. The glove felt rough against your skin.

His chin jutted in your direction, brazenness abound. “Why else would I come crawling back?”

Your heart leapt against your rib cage like you had just completed a ten-K run. You simply stared at him as you tried to ward off a stroke amidst all these confusing feelings.

He couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t stay away from you.

Floundering, you chose to focus on a previous concern. “You looked half-dead when I last saw you.”

“Yeah. Definitely passed out,” he snorted, as if it was a funny memory instead of a tragic one. That made you frown. “I’m tip-top now. Stitching yourself up is a bitch though.”

You poked his helmet, unconvinced and holding onto residual guilt. “Are you sure?”

He let out a sombre chuckle. “Yeah. I heal quick.”

Through squinted eyes, you said suspiciously, “I thought you were human.”

“I am,” he insisted. “With a little extra on top.”

What kind of riddle was that? One that was meant to rile you up, clearly. Muttering to yourself, you decided to save it for later.

You crossed your arms, feigning disinterest. “I found a movie you’ll like. It has aliens.”

His head tilted. You heard the smile in his voice, “Oh, for me? You shouldn’t have, sweetheart.”

“Just give me the remote so I can find it, you sack of mush.”

Nonetheless, he obliged, passing it with an amused hum. You both settled into a mutual calm as you allowed A Quiet Place to play.

__________

When Roy came home early the next morning, he was only mildly surprised to find you two on the couch, squashed together. Jason’s helmet lolled on the head rest, while you’d aimed the other way, legs in his lap.

“Yo, bucket head. You up?” Roy called on his way past. He resisted the urge to rap a knuckle against the metal encasing.

He blew a raspberry when no reply came. “Well, alright-y then. Dorks.”

__________

That mild surprise turned into being flummoxed with a capital F within days, if not hours. It was not a word Roy would not have ever thought he would use in his life time, but there he was, standing in the kitchen entrance, baffled.

You and Jason were chatty rather than catty now. Still, Roy thought he recognised a shyness in your exchanges, although he didn’t have any real rapport to compare it to.

At the very least, his friends were beginning to get along. Hopefully they could repair what had broken between them. He eyed Jason’s helmet with some doubt. That thing would likely have to come off before things could be entirely fixed.

Roy did his best to hold his breathe on that front—pushing Jason into revealing his identity was a big step. If he was rushed, he’d just run away. All this anxious and brooding energy would be for naught. He already avoided eye contact with Roy whenever you were around. He guessed that Jason didn’t want the reminder of what a bizarre situation he was in.

Roy watched with keen eyes as his friend tried to instruct you on how to use a chef’s knife properly. He mimicked the action, attempting to take over as he did so. You promptly threatened to chop off his fingers, to which he produced his own knife, clanging it against yours.

It was such a silly fight, but it made his mouth curl upwards.

The blaze in your eyes barely left, even when you threatened to, “—Do it while you sleep.”

Jason scoffed. “Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight.”

Your eyes turned to slits at the warning. Roy wanted to smack Jason upside the head, knowing damn well the stupid kid slept with a gun under his pillow most nights. When he made it to bed, that was.

Jason seemed to realise their bickering had not gone unnoticed then. His eyes flicked to Roy as the knife in his grasp faltered. He looked away, tabling it and straightening the wooden chopping board and all of its components. The banal fidgeting made you look too.

“Hi, Roy,” you greeted in an unbothered tone. You slowly lowered the knife that had been poised with ill intent.

“Roy,” Jason said with a nod.

The redhead kept the easy smile on his face as he came closer. “What’s all this?” he asked as his way of finally acknowledging his lurking presence.

“Making a feast for later,” Jason told him, at the same time, you said, “Having the world’s worst cooking class.”

“Huh,” Roy said, “and here I was thinking you were about to kill each other.”

You rolled your eyes. “I would lay down some newspaper first, Roy. This kitchen’s nice.”

“Good to know,” he replied.

“Plastic’s better.”

Both of you looked at Jason upon hearing his outlandish comment. Your face screwed at the mental image, while Roy’s eyebrow raised perfectly. What had possessed him to say that? Roy wondered out of bemusement.

At the silence, Jason shrugged rigidly. “Jus’ saying.”

“Thanks for the tip, Hannibal Lector,” you said with a shake of your head. You went back to dicing carrots.

“You coming out tonight, Jay?” Roy queried, palms pressed into the counter. His body rocked forward with the motion.

He nodded with a muffled, “Yeah.”

“You got something for us? Or you flying solo?”

There was a pause between the three of them. Roy saw how the question put Jason on edge; his helmet tilted towards you in consideration. How much did he want to say around you?

You stared back at him, stiffness in the line of your shoulders. A debate hung in the space between you—a tug of war with power dynamics. Roy sighed at your combined stubbornness and dumbass-ery.

“I’ll—”

“Go with him,” you interrupted, a hardness to your voice. If he looked a little closer, he’d find it was actually concern.

“I’m fine,” Jason said under his breath. You scoffed in disbelief.

Roy shrugged. “Your sweets has spoken, Jaybird.”

You raised the knife in his direction. “Pardon?”

The blood drained from Jason’s face as he heard the jab. Obviously, he’d been foolish enough to use the nickname within Roy’s earshot. His chin dropped as he willed the bright redness to release him from his unending prison of humiliation.

His skin crawled uncomfortably. Jason, in warning, coughed out, “Roy.”

“Don’t point that thing at me. I’m doing you a solid!” Roy bickered. He frivolously batted the knife away from his body, but you remained steady enough.

Jason’s glove wound around your wrist, trying to force your hand. You steeled against him for a moment before allowing him to push it down.

“You’re proving his point,” you said in a low tone, not looking at either of them.

Jason rubbed at his helmet with a grumble to himself. He would argue, to his second death, that he had proven nothing of the sort.

He glanced at Roy. “Yeah, I got a case, alright? I’ll show you later. Just let me finish in here.”

“I can finish just fine,” you butted in obnoxiously.

Jason snorted. “No, you can’t. You don’t listen.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re a bad teacher.”

“What’s the next step then?” Jason baited. You tried to remember, but all you came up with was an irritated huff. He smirked, satisfied.

Roy laughed. “Careful, man. They might reconsider the plastic idea.”

You nodded seriously. “I’m mentally writing a shopping list as we speak.”

“Alright.” Jason let the tools in his hands clatter lightly upon the countertop. You tensed at the sudden action, but relaxed when he didn’t make another move. Jason jerked his head towards Roy; a signal that meant he’d meet him in his room with said grand plans. Roy nodded in return, taking the hint.

He watched Roy leave, moving to follow after him. However, on his way past, Jason’s thumb and forefinger latched onto your chin. He grazed the skin in a playfully firm manner. It shouldn’t have felt like much of anything at all, but in that moment, the small touch was like sunlight carried by the breeze on a warm spring day. It left you wide-eyed.

“At least wait to dispose of me until after dinner,” he breathed, a soft smile hidden beneath the mask. His thumb dragged along your jawline before he let it drop. It was quickly replaced with tingling on either side of your cheeks, right where bone met neck, as if you’d eaten a sour lolly. You swallowed dumbly.

Jason tried to continue onwards but you grabbed a hold of his wrist. “Ja—” You cut yourself off. “I don’t know how to finish it.”

He shrugged, posture ever impassive. “Wrote down the recipe.” Jason tossed his thumb towards a notepad by the stove. When had he done that?

It hurt when your heart pounded against your rib cage once more, eyes trained on his departing back. Only seconds ago, he’d been pestering you, albeit in jest, but then he’d gone and done that. A tender action caught between the rift of sensual and downright diabolical.

Roy would’ve seen if he’d turned around. Almost unwillingly, you drew the conclusion that it was another of the cocky stunts he liked to pull.

A/N: love that their relationship is 2 parts annoying the shit out of each other to 1 part flirting!!!

am i on the path to forgiveness? 😚

something long awaited happens next week. hehe.

_____

Tags: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @caswinchester2000, @missxfeels, @thequietchildren, @midnxghtblue, @plantedcats, @darkness-falls-xo

if i've seen you binging the series, you made my list lol

[uptoolateart]

Master Post

Links to my Miraculous chapter fics:

Breaking Free (Breaking Free #1)

All the Missing Pieces (Breaking Free #2)

Where We Find Ourselves Again (Breaking Free #3)

What We're Made of (Breaking Free #4)

Dreaming Wide Awake (Gazing into the Abyss #1)

How the Heart Learns to Beat Again (Gazing into the Abyss #2)

If I Let Myself Love You

Finding a Way (Jurassic Park AU)

A Whole New World (Aladdin AU)

Voyage! Tales of the USS Miraculous (Star Trek Crossover)

A Penchant for Pancakes

Getting Away from It All

A Monumental Disaster

All That is Necessary (co-written with @raspberrycatapult)

General links:

My Ao3 fan fiction page, long and short works

Instagram account for my artwork

My Miraculous tarot card paintings and explanations

My Inuyasha tarot card paintings

Inuyasha analysis - why there's actually NO love triangle (looking at the story from an eastern perspective)

Fairytales - All of us are our own Prince Charming

Links to my Miraculous analysis posts:

1. Miraculous Pacing and Character Arcs

2. Marinette and Adrien's Hero's Journeys in S4

3. Full Strike Back Analysis - the symbol of the helping hand, and learning to forgive ourselves and ask for support when we need it

4. Gabriel Agreste as Bluebeard (and other Miraculous Fairy Tale Archetypes)

5. How Magic Works (as part of my Magician tarot card explanation)

6. The Problem with Alya

7. Gabriel and Adrien Agreste as Zeus and Apollo / Hermes (archetypes)

8. Adrien, the Future Therapist

9. Ladybug and Cat Blanc

10. Adrien and Marinette's Fears

11. Facing the Shadow

12. The Masks We Wear

13. The Rules of Romance

14. Analysis of Adrien in Season 5 up to Episode 9

15. Adrien's Fight for Self-Control - Pt 1

16. Adrien’s Fight for Self-Control - Pt 2

17. Adrien’s Fight for Self-Control - Pt 3

18. Adrien’s Fight for Self-Control - Full Analysis

19. Adrien's Second Chance

20. 'Perfect' White - Colour Symbolism

21. Alyanette's Breakthrough

22. Gabriel's Test

23. What’s Love Got to Do with It?

24. Defining Masculinity

25. Ladybug Never Makes a Mistake

26. Choice (analysis of S5 Ep10 ‘Transmission’)

27. Elite Symbolism in MLB

28. Unbreakable Bonds

29. Mask Imagery

30. 'No More Adults...'

31. 'As long as WE know she's lying....' (Lila Rossi)

32. Yggdrasil / Emilie's Tree

33. Kagami & Adrien - Literally made for each other?

34. Plagg & Tikki - Yin & Yang

35. Kagami Analysis - Zen and Beyond

36. Butterflies - Akumas, Alchemy & Transformation

37. Sentimonsters vs Frankenstein’s Monster

38. Marinette’s Anxieties - Analysis of Perfection, Migration & Derision

39. Analysis of Maribug & Felix in Emotion

40. Miraculous & Cinderella

41. 'THEY'RE the monsters'

42. Gabriel’s Evolution (Character Analysis up to Revelation)

43. Being 'ready'

44. No one controls destiny

45. Analysis of Chloe's speech in Collusion

46. Growing Up - Adrien in Representation

47. Adrien and Le Petit Prince

48. The Miraculous Child

49. Adrien & Marinette’s Character Arcs up to Re-Creation

50. Adrien as the princess who hasn't yet woken up

51. Conformation - Conforming and Identity Erasure

52. Gabriel and the theme of maya

53. The lessons of our nightmares (Cat Blanc)

54. ‘You have everything you need to be happy’ (Gabriel)

55. Felix as a sacrifice

56. The Oedipal Complex trope (S5 finale)

57. Adrien's 'death wish' (in the Paris Special)

58. Cat Blanc parallels in the Paris Special

59. Adrien vs Data from Star Trek - Parallels

60. The Peacock Was Always the Goal

[claudeng80]

Up In Flames 0.5 (Firefighter AU)

Comes before https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339926/chapters/62157340

There are far more comfortable places Shirayuki could spend her afternoon than a folding chair in the equipment hangar. Her office has air conditioning, for one thing. There are decently comfortable chairs. But most importantly, her office is entirely free of arguing Wisterias.

“The whole thing is ridiculous,” Zen grumps. His voice is quiet, because everyone knows the steel ceiling echoes like nobody’s business, but his brother doesn’t bother to moderate his voice.

“You’re just jealous that they aren’t interested in administrators.” Izana grins, and Shirayuki can’t help but think whoever made that decision must have not seen the Wisterias in person.

“That’s not-” Zen breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, audibly deciding to take the high road. “It’s for a good cause, at least.” At the other side of the room a bird shrieks, which sets off one of the dogs.

“That sounds like our cue to go,” Izana answers, unflappable as always. “Please make sure nothing gets out of hand.” He turns, and Zen sighs and follows him.

That leaves Shirayuki alone with a volunteer from the Humane Society, a menagerie of the most photogenic animals available for adoption that they could round up, one very pushy photographer, and at least one shirtless firefighter. “For a good cause,” she reminds herself and walks over to see what she can do to help.

Hisame Rougis, at least, is having a good time. “No, Lulu, I need that,” he coos, gently readjusting the python to free up his hand. Lulu bunches up for a moment, then loops around his bicep affectionately.

“You sure you aren’t looking for a pet, sir?” The Humane Society volunteer has stars in her eyes. Whether it’s at Hisame’s chest, which is, admittedly, nice, or at the thought of getting Lulu a new home, Shirayuki can’t tell.

“What would you say to that, Kiki?” Hisame cranes back over his shoulder, the photographer’s camera clicks like firecrackers, and Shirayuki realizes she’s not the only spectator here.

“No,” Kiki answers and unfolds from her chair. She’s not in her flight suit today, but she still draws eyes in sweats. Her T-shirt is loose, tied off at the waist. “No snakes.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Hisame purrs.

“You wish, Rougis,” Kiki tosses back. It sounds like a denial, and yet she’s smiling. There’s something going on with the two of them. Shirayuki had thought, since she arrived, that Kiki and Mitsuhide either were dating or were on the way to something, but for the last few weeks-

They’re not talking, and suddenly Kiki’s got the time of day for Hisame. He’s friendly enough, but there’s something just a bit off about him. He’ll go over great in the charity calendar, though, if the photographer catches his smolder through his slightly-too-long hair. “This way,” the photographer reminds him, and Kiki passes beyond his directed gaze.

She stops by Shirayuki. “Did you see yesterday’s photos?” Her outstretched phone shows Mitsuhide grinning, a friendly husky dog’s tongue wrapping around his cheek. “It took them almost an hour to get the picture they were happy with.”

“How did you get a copy? I thought we weren’t going to see anything until the calendar?”

Kiki’s enigmatic smile is all the answer she gives. “You sure you don’t need some help keeping order in here? I’m sure the equipment audit can wait.”

In the distance, Hisame looks just as sad to say goodbye to Lulu as she is reluctant to let go of him. “I doubt Izana would agree.”

Kiki laughs, short but genuine. “You keep a close watch, then, and tell me all about it later.”

It doesn’t seem like there will be much to tell her, really. Everything’s much quieter with the Wisterias and Hisame gone; eventually the dogs back in the storage room stop barking, the photographer is engrossed in her laptop, and the volunteer plops into the folding chair with a relieved sigh. “Oh man, this is going to be the hottest calendar ever. I can’t wait to see it.”

Shirayuki would have to live under a rock to not have heard that people find firemen sexy, but these are all people she knows, people whose tonsils she’s inspected. Or worse. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah! This calendar’s going to sell so well, you’d better get your order in quick.”

She hadn’t really planned on it. It seems kind of unprofessional to have pictures of half-naked men hanging up in her office, even if it weren’t extra weird due to said men being her patients. And something about hanging it up at home feels even worse.

“Send in mister October,” calls the photographer, saving her from having to answer, but the volunteer is still trying to disentangle herself from the folding chair when Obi strolls in on his own. The smile on his face may be charming, but his shoulders are tense. The photographer takes a thorough survey, from head to toe. “Inky and Sue, I think,” she tosses off to the volunteer, who nods and heads back into the storage room.

“They’re not dogs, right?” Obi clutches at his T-shirt. He jumps out of planes and walks into fires for a living. He killed a rattlesnake that got into the building, once. But the sigh of relief he breathes when the volunteer returns carrying two tiny kittens is audible all the way across the room. He reaches out his gloved hands, and the photographer clicks her tongue. His hands freeze outstretched. “Oh.”

His eyes flick to Shirayuki - she may be across the room, but she can’t miss it. Still watching her, he reaches the back of his neck and pulls off his T-shirt. Cloth slides over muscles, then over scars, and it’s all too obvious when the photographer sees it. She stops, she stares, and Obi’s hand comes up to grasp at his shoulder.

It's only because she's watching so slowly that Shirayuki sees blood smear under his finger. "You're hurt!"

That, at least, interrupts the photographer's stare. Obi stares too, for a moment before he too notices the blood. "Just a scratch," he says.

"Let me clean it up for you," she insists, and drags him out into the hallway.

"It's really nothing." He doesn't wave her hands away, at least, as she pulls an alcohol wipe from her pocket and tears it open. "They want wilderness firefighters, they have to expect some of us are going to show off more than just a tan. Nobody trusts a firefighter without a few marks on him." It falls from his lips too easily, like it's something he's been telling himself, and his shoulders curl inward. Skin pulls and folds at the white scar across his chest.

“Maybe the photographer will work with you to find a pose you’re comfortable with.” He stares at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. She doesn’t want to say it outright, but she’s no Izana to get her ideas across with less than half the words it should take. “Something that doesn’t show anything you don’t want to show?”

She can’t look at his face anymore, so she busies herself with the scratch. It really was a minor as he said, and it’s very clean now. His hand comes up to capture hers, gently lifting it off his shoulder. “You mean the chick magnet here, I take it.” His other hand taps the scar.

It’s hard to figure how he means that, whether it’s serious or yet another self-deprecating joke. There’s nothing to do but insist. “I meant anything-”

“It’s all right. This is from a long time ago.” She hasn’t seen this gentle smile on him before. His fingers cradle her wrist like it’s a bird, or something he’ll protect until it’s ready to take flight once more- hopefully he can’t feel her pulse speeding as the moment stretches. “If you’d been there, there probably wouldn’t even have been a scar.”

The equipment hangar door screeches and the volunteer leans out, looking frazzled. She’s still clutching the kittens, which are yowling angrily. “Are you almost ready?”

“Showtime,” says Obi. Gently, he frees Shirayuki’s hand, then rocks to a stand like he’s ready to run. “I’m ready for my close-up,” he calls out to the photographer as he swans back into the room.

Shirayuki watches him go, cupping her hand to her chest.

***

There’s a suspiciously large envelope rolled up in Shirayuki’s office mail. She has a pretty good suspicion of what it must be, but when she slits open the flap she still forces herself to read the letter first. “Thank you for your tax-deductible contribution to the Humane Society . . .” it begins, and something flips in the vicinity of her stomach. It’s here.

The calendar is glossy and printed on good paper- she tries to smooth it flat, where it had been rolled up in her mailbox, but it springs back to a curve. Time and gravity will fix that, once she hangs it up.

If she hangs it up.

Mitsuhide got the January spot, laughing as a very large dog stretches to kiss him. Hisame, in June, looks mysterious and alluring with Lulu staring directly at the camera. Shikito, in August, bends down to fill a water bowl for a beagle puppy.

She hesitates over September. Not that she minds Shuka wielding a hammer assembling some kind of enclosure as two adorable little brown rabbits watch, but she isn’t quite sure she’s ready to turn the page.

“The sexiest yet,” the Humane Society volunteer had whispered in her ear, all but vibrating as they watched Obi pose for the photographer.

But if she turns the page, she’s going to have to have something to say when he asks what she thinks. She’ll have to have an opinion. She’s going to have to tell him he’s sexy.

She’s being silly. Reckless, she flips the page, and there’s Obi’s profile- the photo is from his back, every muscle lit in full definition as he holds a bicep curl pose. On his left arm two tiny black kittens perch, one trying to climb his forearm and the other screaming in his face, and his lip curls in a way she knows he was just about to laugh. It’s so him, and the cats are so cute, and at the same time she can’t stop staring at the details. The line where the tan on his neck ends. The way the light casts shadows from his shoulder blades and every knob of his spine. The hint of another scar just at the edge of the photo, one she hasn’t noticed in person before-

“Oh, they’re here?” Kiki strides into the office without knocking, and Shirayuki slams shut the calendar. Kiki sets Shirayuki’s coffee on the desk, sips her own, thankfully does not say a word about Shirayuki’s crimson blush, and leans over to get a look at the Dalmatian on the cover.

“It just arrived in the mail today. Did you order one?” She picks up her coffee, suppressing the urge to hide it under the desk.

“Please.” Kiki flips open the cover, directly to January. “I bought ten.”