#ill get there train there some day since its pretty cheap

[omgeto]

If I was French I’d look in the mirror everyday and say ~I am French~

and id say it in a French accent too since ofc iLL BE FRENCH

[astrella-writes]

prompt | anonymous asked: Could I get some general relationship headcanons (with some fluff please!) for Chishiya, Arisu, and Kuina 🥺👉👈 let me know if you need a more specific ask! :)

warnings | written with the intention of female pronouns but can be read as gender neutral, very minor suggestive implications, mentions of alcohol, nicotine and eating habits, might be considered kinda cheesy oops, the use of the pet name ‘bunny’.

word count | 1.4K

author’s note | ‘m loving this request. this is written with the intention of it being pre-borderlands. 

Shuntarō Chishiya 

- Frequenting local cafes for routinely study dates. He helps you with topics that you may struggle on and you buy him the bizarre flavored ‘treat of the week’ as a thank you. He jokes around that you’re probably using him as a test subject, because who would order sweet potato brownies with the premise that they would taste good. Much to his surprise, they actually do.

- Visiting a cat cafe once, but not getting around to completing any work. The image of Chishiya cradling a fluffy kitten close to his chest and holding softened eye contact with it is now your permanent lock screen. He has a matching lock screen of you holding a kitten from under the armpits and touching noses with it.

- Learning new skills together. Chishiya is pretty much down for anything that he considers interesting enough. That’s how you ended up frustratingly trying to follow along to a complex origami cat tutorial at 2 in the morning as Chishiya worked quietly with his earbuds in, listening to a different tutorial. Only once he presented you with a perfect paper flower did you smile for the first time in the past hour, the frustration dissipating. That very flower has claimed its indefinite place on your bedside table, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

- Doing escape rooms together every so often. It baffles you to some degree how he figures things out so easily, but then again, you’ve known how smart your boyfriend was since the day you met so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise. You just can’t help but admire him, and voice these admirations out loud. Your compliments being the only ones which truly affect him.

- Despite how genius your boyfriend is, you remain concerned about the mental toll college might have on him. If he is stressed, he barely gives it away, but you’ve grown to read through his indifference and pick up when something is wrong - even if he’s attempting to hide it for your disburden. You allow him to de-stress in your arms, playing with the tips of his hair and speaking through what has got him so troubled.

- Late night dates that consist of trips to the corner store where you buy your favourite snacks and walk down to the beach together. It’s a relaxing way to wind down after a stressful week filled with work and college. If it’s not too cold that night, you substitute sitting on your usual bench for a stroll along the sand. If he finds a pretty seashell, Chishiya will give it to you wordlessly.

- He buys you a lot of small things that reminds him of you. A cute keychain he found by chance while buying groceries, splurging his money on a random claw machine because he spotted a plushie character from that show you really like, buying your favourite snacks to calm you down before a big exam that you’ve been studying really hard for. It’s the little things that show how much he really loves you.

Ryōhei Arisu

- Offering him a place to stay for a few days if he needs a break from his family, Arisu will pack up his gaming laptop along with him and you two will game with each other side by side. He anticipates the moment you rest your head on his shoulder and once you do, he rests his own head upon yours with a small: “you tired, bunny?”

- Being extremely supporting and non-judgemental on the topic of him getting a job. You search listings almost daily and send any promising ones through to him, leaving an encouraging message afterwards in hopes he gets the right intention. You care for him deeply and don’t want to see his father eventually kicking him out the house for being unemployed and making the situation ten times more difficult for him.

- Helping him get out more and introducing him to places he quickly grows to love. A quaint coffee shop with a grassy roof hidden deep within the cracks that he never would have found if it weren’t for you. It’s become your usual spot for dates, and Arisu enjoys the tranquility of it all.

- Going on trips to the game store together, even though Arisu usually just buys all his games online, and he’s pretty sure you do too. Regardless, it’s an excuse to meet up and hang out for a few hours after, something he’s found has become more enthralling than gaming. 

- Staying up on video call into the late hours of the night as you both battle it out on some mmorpg. You’re confused when you see his idle avatar and look over at your phone screen to find him staring at you in a trance. It catches you off guard at first, but seeing him snap back to reality upon getting caught and getting all flustered left you replaying the scene over in your head for days later.

- Dates to the arcade, because of course. You two definitely hog a specific game with a line of pouting children waiting impatiently to get their chance. Arisu only agrees to move on when you mention a new game you spotted earlier. There is no new game, you just feel bad for the kids. Once he’s caught on, you merely give his lips a quick peck and you’re instantly forgiven.

- Playing in one of those immersive game machines with the curtains on both sides, only for Arisu to stare at you dumbly, leaving you a flustered and confused mess. This usually leads to a one-sided lean in and a small make out, only for an innocent kid to pull back the curtain and run away mortified. Their screams are the highlight of your boyfriend’s day, and you swear he’s holding some mental record of how many kids he traumatize through doing this.

Hikari Kuina

- Working at the same clothing store and having Kuina intervene whenever you’re faced with a rude customer. She might not be all too friendly if they insulted you, and if getting fired is the cost of standing up for you, then so be it. You’d quit alongside her and find some place new to work.

- Helping tend to her sickly mother in hospital, whom you had made speechless upon your first visit. She was delightfully thrilled upon finally being introduced to her daughter’s significant other, Kuina sharing to you afterwards that she hadn’t seen her mother smiling so brightly in a long time. You always present her mother with gifts upon each visit, whether it be flowers or a small cake. She’s become like your own mother, and so you help pay towards hospital bills as well.

- Comforting Kuina if she ever gets upset about her past (especially her relationship with her father) or her mother’s current poor health. You make her feel so valid; it leaves her a sobbing mess in your arms as you comfort her with soothing strokes and affectionate mumbles. Once her wailing has calmed, you offer to make her favourite - hot chocolate topped with cream.

- Constant sleepovers, which include wearing face masks, ordering takeout, watching some sappy romance before switching it over to an action movie and sipping on some cheap beer. The buzz of the alcohol always makes you more daring as you suggest showering together, and you’re never turned down by your equally audacious girlfriend. 

- Helping her overcome her nicotine addiction and being the initial person to suggest chewing on a dummy cigarette whenever she felt the urge to smoke. Her mother couldn’t thank you enough for getting her into this, expressing her hidden fear of having to watch Kuina smoke herself into ill health or worse, a premature grave. 

- In return, she looks out for your own well-being: reaching out to hold your hand before you both cross the street, showing up with lunch the next day at work if she thinks you haven’t been eating as much lately, keeping headache pills in her bag ever since you complained about a migraine that one time, keeping an extra umbrella in the break room just in case it rains later that day and you’ll need one.

- It’s never a dull moment dating Kuina, always planning fun and exciting dates like getting drunk in a private karaoke room only for it to lead to sloppy make outs. The one time she was so insistent on riding the kiddies train at the amusement park, only for the both of you to fall off once you reached the sharp bend in the tracks. It left you both a giggling mess, but the pain afterwards definitely made the whole situation regrettable. 

[resilicns-multi]

Vision

A short-ish drabble (fic?) of how I imagine Viktor would get his vision. Cut for length.

Viktor had slowly fallen in love with Mondstadt. Lily had been the first to melt his cold exterior, the sisters that cared for him when he fell ill being the second. He fondly remembered Rosaria herself dragging him from his hotel room and to the chapel, snapping something about him being “irresponsible” and “only doing it to get Barbara to be quiet. However, her watchful gaze from the doorway when her turn to watch over him came said otherwise. 

The women had made sure he was fed and kept warm. All suspicion was gone after that. It was almost like he had suddenly gained a hoard of mothers and sisters fretting over him. They made sure he ate three meals a day, made sure he took breaks, and often talked to him throughout the day. 

The payments he was supposed to receive from Signora stopped coming a while ago. To make ends meet, he took up commissions and errands, mostly fetching things for the sisters and doing their shopping for them. His favorite job, however, was babysitting. 

First, it was just Lily. As the other parents in Mondstadt noticed how well-taken care of she was, other children quickly began to join her. He took them to the docks and to the bridge to feed the fish and ducks, taught them games from Sneznhaya, and read to them in the evening. 

Mondstadt was starting to feel more like a home to Viktor than his homeland ever had. He rarely wore his uniform these days, opting instead for the cheap, local clothes he could buy. It had been a long time since he last wore his mask. The first day without it was also the last day with it. The sisters had immediately gushed over his “pretty blue eyes,” Jilliana telling him he had “such long eyelashes and cute freckles.” He, of courses, tried to brush it off and act annoyed, but he threw the mask away on instinct the moment he returned to his hotel room. 

He relished lovely evenings like this one. The wind was soft and refreshing, the sky was gaining beautiful hues from the sun just beginning to set, and people were out and about getting dinner or going to the taverns. Many of the people of Mondstadt still viewed him with some suspicion, especially the Knights of Favonius, but he no longer let it bother him. He still felt welcome and cared for by those that did, and that was more than enough. However, on this evening, Viktor paused near the side gate, overhearing a familiar voice. Rudolf...

“I’ve already searched the town, she’s not here! Please, Guy, you have to go out and look for her!”

“I’m sorry, Rudolf, but I can’t leave my post. The other Knights are searching the city as we speak. A group will be sent out to search the surrounding area if they can’t find Lily here.”

Anger boiled under Viktor’s skin. The useless bureaucracy was one of the reasons he disliked the Knights of Favonius. Clenching his fists, he made his decision in an instant, turning on his heels and hurrying to the front gate. He left the city without any hesitation, hand on his sword’s hilt. The thought of the danger Lily could be in, how scared she probably was, pushed him to break into a run halfway across the bridge. 

He had no idea where to start, until he heard something that made his blood run cold. The faint, unearthly, and metallic groans of a ruin guard. His eyes darted around, landing on the familiar rubble near one of the domains, where anemo slimes and a constant gust of wind were. Gritting his teeth, he charged towards it, scrambling up the hill and hoisting himself over the cliff edge. Immediately, his eyes landed on the automaton. It was turning over rubble in the ruins, searching for something. He looked around, relief and then anxiety rushing through him when he saw a familiar shoe.

Ducking down, Viktor crouched and made his way around the circular area until he reached Lily, who was hiding behind a collapsed pillar, tearful and covering her mouth with her hands. 

“Lily,” he whispered, kneeling down in front of her. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Are you injured?” He smiled when she shook her head. “Good. I need you to go back to Mondstadt and get a Knight, okay? I’ll keep this thing busy.”

“I-....I can’t, Mister Fatooey,” the girl sniffled, shaking her head again. “I can’t move...it’s too scawy...”

Dammit. I can’t carry her out of here, what if it spots us? I don’t have a choice here. I have to take it down. I can only hope she runs while I’m at it. Taking a deep breath, he drew his sword. “Please run, Lily. Stay hidden, run.” Narrowing his eyes, he rushed forward.

Drawing from his training, Viktor drove his sword forward, aiming for where the ruin guard’s leg met it’s hip, hoping to disable it. There was a crunching sound, but it didn’t seem to actually harm it. He scrambled back, swearing as the thing turned its torso to focus its singular eye on him. It swung its fist, making contact with his torso and throwing him backwards. The pillar behind him was what stopped his body, his back slamming into it. The wind was knocked out of him. Gasping shakily, pain coursing through his body, he pushed back against the pillar, standing back up.

“Alright, let’s go!” Narrowing his eyes, he took a few more breaths before rushing it again, ducking under another swing and slicing through one of its legs. This time, he was able to get a better understanding for its makeup. The leg had a more brittle section between the armor plating. I can knock it down if I can get through that. 

Using the momentum, he kept going past it, staying low to avoid the other arm as it spun once. Drawing himself together and focusing, he fell into a cycle of running and slashing. Everything was going well, until it suddenly turned its body, planting its arms in the ground. It was like the entire world was suddenly moving in slow motion. The panels sliding open, light glowing, missiles flying out. He felt frozen in place for a moment, before covering his head with his arms on instinct. The blast threw him back, his body rolling along the ground. He went limp when he tumbled to a stop, wheezing. His head was spinning, and every inch of his body ached. Dammit! I’m not strong enough! Just- just a bit more! I just-!

“Mister Fatooey!”

Viktor lifted his hand, gasping shakily. “LILY, GET DOWN!” The girl had stood from her hiding place, standing in plain sight as she stared at him. I can’t move, but- but I have to protect her. I have to-..! He winced, pressing against the ground as he tried to push himself back up. He could see the machine turning to focus on the girl. He didn’t even have seconds to waste. I- I have to...I have to-..! Tears stung his eyes. His body was protesting, but he managed to get back up on his feet, his legs wobbling under him. Clutching his sword in his hand, he made up his mind. He couldn’t run, not in this state, and he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to reach the ruin guard. He threw the sword, the weapon clanging against the automaton’s back. 

His distraction was successful. The machine turned to face him. “Stay...away from her!” He snarled, wincing and clutching his arm as he took a step forward. “Don’t...touch...her!” As he lifted his right foot to take another step, the toe of his shoe hit something, pushing it forward. Looking down, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. A glowing, teal orb nestled in the metallic wings of the city of freedom, resonating with him. Shaking, he reached down, grasping the vision. He fashioned it to his belt, tying it there. He lifted his head to stare at the ruin guard once more, feeling a new burst of energy surging through him. Is this the power of a vision? Is this the power of the gods? He grinned. That didn’t matter right now. The only thing that mattered was protecting Lily, and things were finally turning in his favor.

He ran forward, snatching his sword up from the ground with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. It felt like the wind was pushing him, lifting his body to take the weight off of his tired limbs. Like it was cradling him. Barbatos, lend me your strength, even if just for now. You’ve blessed me enough by letting me live in this city, but please, help me save this girl.

Viktor swung the sword, slicing the ruin guard and sending forward a gust of pure anemo energy. Unlike before, where his blows merely glanced off of the metal, this one cut into it and pushed the hulking machinery. Confidence and excitement pulsed through his blood. Metallic clangs filled the air as he landed blow after blow on the thing, pushing it back and back and back. Hitting its body will do nothing. I have to strike its eye. Almost without thought, he braced himself against the ground, focusing on that feeling of weightlessness, drawing from it. 

“This...ends...HERE!” He leapt forward and into the air, clutching the grip with both hands and drawing it back above his head. Anemo lifted him up in a burst, giving him the perfect angle and distance to drive the blade down into the thing’s eye, burying it to the hilt. He pressed down further, pushing off of the ruin guard with one more gust of wind. Completely paralyzed, the machinery could not fight back, tumbling backwards and over the edge of the cliff, plummeting to the ground below. The sounds of the ancient machinery dying echoed as its light faded.

Viktor landed on the ground with a heavy thud, his exhaustion immediately catching up to him as he collapsed. The strength had not dulled his pain, but that was okay, in his eyes. Lily was safe. He smiled weakly up at the approaching girl. She was crying again, for him, this time.

“M-Mister Fatooey...don’t- don’t move, I- I’ll go get hewp!” Lily choked out, turning and running towards Mondstadt. Viktor watched her until she reached the bridge, letting the darkness draw him in as he fell unconscious.

-----

When the man awoke, his pain had dulled significantly. He lifted his head, staring down at his own heavily bandaged body. “Wh-...where..?” He whispered, finding his voice hoarse and his mouth cottony. 

“Ah! Don’t move like that! Lay down!” Barbara’s familiar hushed voice scolded him. She rushed to his side, guiding him back down onto his pillow. “You took quite the beating...Lily told all of us what you did, but-” The young blonde looked tearful. “But you should have gotten help! You- you could have died, you-!”

“He wouldn’t have been fast enough.” 

Viktor looked up to the doorway. He was in one of the backrooms of the chapel, reserved for the sick and injured, he could recognize that much. Rosaria stood in the doorway now, leaning against the frame as she twirled something in her hand. Upon squinting a little, he recognized it as a vision. His vision.

“You forgot something. You know, you should have a little more respect for something like this, after it saved your life.” The red-headed sister muttered, setting the vision down on the nightstand by his bed. As cold as her tone was, there was a softness to it that made her concern clear. “That was really idiotic of you to do, but,” she paused, looking down at him. “...you saved that girl’s life. There’s a reason that Mondstadt’s god,” she motioned to the vision. “And now its people...have all welcomed you.” The woman made a face, sighing. “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, too. People have been asking about you all day. The Knights even want to speak to you. They probably want to give you some useless medal.” Rolling her eyes, she took a step back towards the door and folded her arms under her chest. “...get some rest. The sooner you get better, the sooner we can get you out of here.”

Viktor smiled softly to himself as he watched the odd woman leave, followed by a suddenly very huffy and distressed Barbara. He felt a strong fondness towards both of them. They’re my family now...and Mondstadt is my home. He glanced at his vision. Mondstadt is my real home.

[thefivecalls]

Nope! Nopenopenopenopenope. I am done repeating the shortcuts in life with mental illness and chronic pain. These can probably extend to others but this is specifically from my depression and chronic pain in my leg and lower back:

-drink milk when you cant stand solid foods, it fills you the quickest and lasts the longest (specifially 2% for me, almond a close 2nd. Skim is too watery)

-Saltines, Peanut Butter, and apple slices/sauce are good fillers if you dont feel hungry but know you need to eat. You dont need many and it wont make you sick if you eat too much by accident

-Keep a jug of water in your fridge. Cold water helps ground me sometimes if I get spacy. (Ive heard ice cubes work too? Havent tried that since we dont have ice trays so can't vouch.)

-Apple juice is the best thing to drink to stay awake for long periods of time. Coffee makes anxiety amp up, pineapple and orange juice gives you a jolt but it wears off quickly, cranberry makes me feel more tired somehow, and I simply dont like grapes so idk about them. Apple juice wakes you up relatively quickly and lasts for a while so try it

-If hot liquids are a comfort for you, a thermos helps by making it last longer. I got mine for 3 dollars at goodwill. Soaked it in white vinegar for three days to clean the insides and then put it through a dishwasher. Practically new again.

-if cold things are your comfort, a small lunch cooler by your bed is great cause you can fill it with cold things before a spiral or attack or if you can feel the spasms coming and you can set it next to your bed.

-Peppermint is a natural stimulus. Spearmint gum is a nice smack in the face if you need quick grounding.

-dry shampoo and a brush will make you feel So Much better than before

-Stridex face cleansing wipes are good for cleaning your face quickly and with minimal effort.

-If you can't bring yourself to clean your room, change your sheets. Its the smallest thing that can help you the most during a downward spiral

-Don't spend too much time in bed. It will train your brain Not to sleep there, so move to your window or a couch.

-Washcloth showers! Get a bowl with warmish water and soap and a washcloth, sit down on a stool and wipe off the sweat and grime. It's amazing to feel clean without having to withstand standing in a shower for 40 minutes

-theres this mouthwash spray you can get. Use it when you cant get up to brush your teeth

-Ibuprofen and Tylenol slowly get weaker as you use them. Rub tiger balm on the area of pain and it'll help you so much

-DONT FALL ASLEEP ON A HEATING PAD. Constant heat makes bad burns! And if you're drugged up on sleep meds you probs wont wake up til they where off, and Trust me you dont want to go to the ER at 3 in the morning with a 2nd degree burn on your back and legs

-Today's a home day? Socks. Fucking Hell wearing socks makes it easier to walk and you can slide on hard surfaces! And they keep your feet warm if you put on thermals or wool

-Thoughts being loud? Audio books or music. Rewind if you get trapped up there, dont worry about it cause we've all had to re listen to something at some point. Or some text-to-speech apps for things like fanfics or stories. (I use Text to Voice - Read Aloud. Its pink and has a microphone)

-Compression sleeves! They help apply a constant (somewhat soothing!) pressure. I've got a knee one and a full leg sleeve. Athletic stores have them sometimes for injuries and whatnot.

-Fairy Lights are dim so they dont hurt your eyes, plus they're pretty and come in lots of colors! Mine are purple and white

-men's sweatpants are much more comfy then woman's. Cheaper too.

-An actual alarm clock helps me when executive dysfunction is stopping me. It forces me to get up and I got mine cheap from Wal-Mart. Plug it in away from where you are and set it for sunlight hours.

-Sweatshirts get smelly fast. Some lightweight long sleeves are good alternatives cause they still cover you but they dont suffocate you and you can where them longer

-A squish monster! Ive got an octopus plushie, my friend has a dragon plushie, another friend has a marshmellow one. Good for comfort (and you'll never outgrow it. We're all 16-19, but 2 of the parents that taught us this still use ones themself)

-Sunglasses and eyedrops are good for bloodshot eyes

-Find a comfort video or tv show or movie. Watch it on the bad days. How to train your dragon, atlantis the lost civilization, and Treasure Planet are 3 of my favorites.

-Stale air sucks. Get a small camping fan and set if up near your bed. A couple of D batteries later and you got air movement

-This is more of a coping mech for me, but write down your thoughts and then counter them. It can get hard but things like "Your friends won't leave you" written by your own hand is satisfying to look at. Ive got an old school pad for mine and i keep it on my floor next to my bed

-Blindfolds can be a double edged sword-it can help by taking away your sight and helping you focus internally, but they can also force you into your head and get you stuck there. Use them carefully!

-be nice to yourself! You cant always act at 100%! Even if everyone else is at 70% and to match them you have to up your anty. Coaxing yourself like a scared animal is much better than beating yourself up about not being able to do things.

Feel free to add on, I'll be doing more when I can think of them!

[literatehiss]

Sea and Stone

Peter shares something personal with Elias, while Elias wonders which Lukas he slept with in this same beach house. Read on AO3 here Elias looked out of the corner of his eye as Peter drove. It was unusual. Who would have taught Peter to drive? Most of his family didn’t drive, Elias was sure Nathaniel had never even bothered to learn, just being chauffeured everywhere he went.

They had been driving for just over half an hour, Peter refusing to tell him where they were going.

Elias was almost entirely certain this was the first time Peter had been on land for their anniversary. This had been their longest marriage so far and Peter had been very pleased with Elias’ “gift” to him. He had better have been pleased with it, Elias was not fond of being blindfolded.

It was very early in the morning, Peter had even promised that they should be done and back in London in time for Elias to go into work on time. The sun was only just starting to peek above the horizon. Driving down the dark roads, he could see why Peter would enjoy it, barely anyone else out on the roads, everything was quiet and still, just how Peter liked it. Elias closed his eyes, watching the few of his employees already awake. Scowling slightly, Gertrude still had no eyes for him to watch through in her home. A few researchers getting ready… wait… lord above that new research he had hired the other day, Sims, was already in the library. Had he even gone home? He felt the car slow to a stop as Peter parked. Taking note of their location, the sound of the waves rushing up the stoney beach, the smell of saltwater and fish, a few stores that looked vaguely familiar. He looked around for some kind of sign. Ah, Hastings… When had he been here? Peter had walked off in the brief moment that Elias had been trying to work out where they were. He was standing at a stall exchanging a few words before taking a package that he put into a bag that Elias hadn’t noticed him pull out of the back of the car. He was not enthused about everything he was missing. Peter ignored him as they walked further down towards the shoreline, Peter helping Elias stay up each time he stumbled over the rocks. Another vague recollection of something like this happening before. This was beginning to get unnerving. Peter eventually pulled them both up onto a concrete pier and sat down behind the railings, gesturing for Elias to join him. “Peter, do you know how much this suit cost? I am not sitting on the ground of some filthy pier” “Yes Elias, I am very aware of how much that suit cost since you bought it on my card. Sit down, I’ll buy you a new one.” Once Elias was sat down next to him, Peter pulled out a bottle of champagne, a knife and the bag he had bought from the stall. The sound of the waves was louder now, and the only other sounds were the quiet workings of fishermen bringing in their boats. Elias looked down at the beach, seagulls were the only crowds out this early, one of them in an intense standoff with a crab over a fish that had washed up too far onto the rocks. He heard the pop of the bottle and looked over just in time to see Peter raise the knife to crack open an oyster. That would explain the bag. “Peter, if this is a dig at my old age and any effect it might have on my libido, you are going to be enjoying a very lonely bed for quite some time.” Peter just rolled his eyes. “Calm down Elias, is it impossible to believe that I might just be trying to be nice.”

Elias decided to keep his instinctual response to that to himself. He accepted the oyster that Peter passed over to him. They sat like that, passing the champagne bottle between them as they watched the sun rise over the sea. Elias wasn’t expecting Peter to speak. “I used to come out here when I was a kid, train down here was pretty cheap, could just sit out here and look out at the sea. Nathaniel gave me the keys to a beach hut that we’ve apparently had for decades, so I’d stay down here for a couple of days at a time. Would just sleep during the day, miss all the tourists you know, and then sit out here at night.” “Hmm, sounds perfect for you.” Elias watched as Peter flung the oyster shells out into the sea. Beach hut… had one of Peter’s family members taken him to this beach hut? Why the hell didn’t he remember? “Yes, I loved it. Wanted to… I wanted to bring you out here. I thought of what to buy you, but I buy you whatever you want all the time, so I thought to bring you somewhere important to me.” That… that was surprisingly sentimental coming from Peter. The captain stood up after a quiet moment, pulling Elias up as well. “Come on, I’ll show you the beach hut, I can see tourists coming down the beach” They walked for a while down the rocky beach before Peter unlocked the door to a tall wooden building, the planks painted black with the Lukas family crest painted in white above the door. The furniture looked old, probably hadn’t been replaced since the Lukas’s first bought the building, which is the only reason Elias could recognise it. If this was the building he thought it was then “Jonah Magnus” was probably still carved into the headboard of the bed. Walking up to said bed, a thick, dusty blanket had been placed over the top of the headboard, he shifted it to the side to check. Yup, this was the place. He was surprised no one had replaced it, but then again, Mordechai had no doubt liked the reminder of seeing him off his tits on laudanum. He had been ill and his dear doctor Fanshawe had recommended getting out of the city, get some sea air. Mordechai had been so kind to let him stay here, and his repayment for such kindness had been pretty enjoyable on its own. He was pretty sure Fanshawe had told him not to take any opioids or do any strenuous activity, but then again, the man had also told him not to work as much and he had never listened to that advice in any of his lives. Peter dumped his bag before lying down on the bed, reaching out and pulling Elias down on top of him. Elias tucked his head under his husband’s chin. After all his lonely anniversaries spent drinking wine alone in his flat, he knew it was going to be so much worse now that he knew how nice it could be. “Happy Anniversary Peter. Thank you for bringing me here.” He felt the man beneath him tense up before relaxing and pressing a kiss to Elias’s head.

“Happy Anniversary Elias”

[cherrywoes]

acanthus. (go.)

NINJA WERE NOTHING but trouble. That was what ran through Kuchiki Sachiko’s mind as she surveyed the rain pounding down over the miles of rice fields she owned. She had harvested what she could before it had gotten truly awful, a few sacks worth a pretty ryo with the shortages from skirmishes between Iwagakure and Kumo. It would line her pockets for a brief period, feed her children well enough until their bellies ached a little less, but it wouldn’t last—it never did, with conditions like these. She was fifty-six, going on fifty-seven, with her youngest only nine years old and, fortunately, her last. She had lived long enough to take part in wars and make her peace with them, and with another brewing on the horizon, she knew her days were limited, and her childrens’ even more so.

Sachiko almost loathed to lie to them; to stare into their innocent faces and wide eyes, so much like her own with her husband’s nose and ears, and tell them that, yes, everything would be okay, and that Kaa-chan would take care of them and make sure they had everything they wanted. It was obvious enough to her older children, twenty and twenty-five respectively, that she lied out of necessity, and they turned a blind eye to it and pitched in where they could. She might find a few ryo tucked into her worn, tattered shoes; she might find a couple stowed away in the pots and pans she rarely used, because they couldn’t afford so much food for a single meal; and she might even discover some hidden deceptively within the threadbare stuffed animals in the corner. She would deny the help if they asked, so they took stealthier measures to make sure she took it and never returned it. Sachiko, despite the offense taken at being perceived as unable to take care of her own family, would flip the ryo in her hands in thought, grimace at the image of ribs protruding out from under skin, and hide them away on the inside seam of her apron and sew it shut.

She had saved a hefty sum this way, obtained healthier, heartier meals for her children and grandchildren: deer in the morning, procured from the butcher down the street who used his former ninja skills for less than acceptable means; vegetables and fruit for lunch to replace what nutrients they had lacked in the years before; and for dinner, rice to fill them up and bone broth to wash it down, because clean water was only seen once in a blue moon. She would never give her children the feces-laced, cloudy water that the rest of her village was drinking that made them ill and, eventually, gave them enough parasites that eating wouldn’t be their first concern.

“Kaa-chan,” one of her children called for her. His tiny hands were embedded in the wash basin, their clothes turning the water dark with dirty, mud, sweat, and tears. When she turned to him obligingly, hand falling to her sternum, she saw he was not looking at her, but out beyond the rice fields, eyes trained on something she couldn’t see through the rain with her blurry vision. “There’s someone out there.”

Sachiko huffed. “Out in this weather? They’d have to be insane, or—”

She swallowed the words when the rain brought a dark red trail of blood to her porch steps, just shy of her feet. It cut a crimson swathe through the clear water, disappearing as quickly as she had seen it, but she knew the look of a lethal amount of blood, having seen it many times before. When she looked up again, peering above the rice, she watched the abnormally tall stalks—nourished by her kekkai moura—sway as they were pushed aside, and violently. When they bowed, they did not return to their former stance, and she stiffened as a head of pink hair became steadily more visible the closer they got. At the basin, she could hear her child drop the soap into the dirty water and get to his feet, coming to her side to watch as the intruder crawled through their crops and nurtured them with their blood.

“Kaa-chan, we should help them,” he said, after a minute, watching the same threads of blood float through the water as she had. “They could be really hurt!”

Her mouth pulled in distaste. It was, in all likelihood, a ninja who had found themselves fatally wounded and stumbled their way from the war fields and into their crops by accident. She knew how this would go: the ninja would approach them, offer them some halfhearted promise while delusional from blood loss, in exchange for healing or a safe space to stay; then, when all was said and done, they would apologize, for what they had said was untrue and something they couldn’t do, offer them a paltry sum of ryo or expensive ninja equipment they knew nothing to do with and couldn’t sell, and vanish back into forest, either ending up dead or somewhere they were never coming back from. Sachiko had been on the butt-end of a bad deal one too many times, and this was a risk she wasn’t going to take. Not again.

“If they really want help,” she said snidely, turning him around by the shoulders and pushing him inside,”they’ll make it to the door and knock. If I’m feeling considerate, I might help them.”

“But Kaa-chan, that’s cruel,” he said, as if he knew what cruelty was, but didn’t fight her as she wheeled him towards the kitchen and out of sight from the broken windows. “What if they die?”

Sachiko flicked him in the back of the head. “They’re ninja. They know what they’re getting into. Now sit and eat your lunch while I go get your siblings and nieces and nephews.”

At that, she watched his face contort and sour. “I still don’t understand why we have to keep Nii-san’s kids, too. Aren’t there enough of us as it is?”

She deliberately ignored his hypocritical comment—having gone straight from wishing to help a stranger and right to resenting his relatives for being in the same home as him— and made her way to the front side of their hovel. Outside, squealing and playing in the mud, much to her delight, were her six missing children, each one thoroughly covered in it. She doubted they even realized they were playing in a mixture of dirt, cow feces, and fertilizer, and brought her fingers to her mouth in a shrill whistle. They stopped and turned to face her with sheepish grins, the rain already clearing them of some of the swill they had just covered themselves in.

“Inside, children,” she said, tiredly. She was unable to produce anger when they were having fun, even at the expense of their own health. By morning, they would be moaning and groaning about chores and post-rain cleanup, but they had a little piece of normalcy, and would treasure it despite the consequences. “Wash off in the rain—and do not play anymore—dry off, and get inside. Lunch is ready.”

Their ‘lunch’ was running later than usual, running into their dinner, but there was nothing Sachiko could do about that. The butcher had no more bones to give her and she had only two hundred ryo left to keep them from starving, once again. In the big cities, like Amegakure and Konoha, that would be nothing but chump change, but in their village, it was enough to keep them fed for at least three weeks, provided there were no other extreme shortages in the supply lines. She patted her tiny stockpile of ryo in idle thought, feeling each individual piece and its engravings, and sighed.

If she was lucky, the ninja would die in her fields and might have enough ryo to get them through another month without incident.

When all of her children were clean and dry, they all sat down at the table and began eating their food: an assortment of various lettuces, spinach, tomatoes that she had cut the rotten spots off of, and corn that had seen better days but ran cheap in the market. She forewent her own meal and took up sentry at the window, eyes tracking the unusually still body face down in the mud. Right when she was beginning to believe they were dead, they twitched and pushed up to their hands and began crawling, and even from the distance and her bad eyes, Sachiko knew what an aura soaked in anger felt like. It had been some time since she had felt it, but this was potent, made her eyes sting with tears, and a finger of ice trail up her spine and through the part of her hair.

This was a ninja she wanted no association with.

She pulled a ratty curtain over the windows hastily. What you didn’t see wasn’t there, so went the old saying, and she desperately hoped blood loss got to the ninja before the night. When her son sent her a quick, knowing look, spooning another forkful of lettuce into his mouth and grimacing at the taste of tomatoes, she knew her hope was for naught: once she laid down to rest, he would be out the door and helping the ninja before she could blink. A hypocritical, sympathetic heart, he was—she wasn’t sure if he got it from her or his father.

When night fell and Sachiko laid on the floor over a thin blanket to rest, she knew she had been right when the floorboards creaked and the soft footfalls of small feet echoed through the room. She closed her eyes and hid them in the lumpy, hard pillow, clutching a fistful of ryo to comfort herself, and listened as he turned the knob and opened the door.

Instead of continued feet patter, there was a gasp, and then a loud thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor. Sachiko was up and stepping over slumbering children before she had a second thought, yanking her child back from the door and pushing him behind her. Lying face-first on the floor, covered in mud and bleeding all over her already dry rotting floor, was a ninja. Pink strands of hair, dark with water, were plastered to the back of her head, obscuring the mask that was clearly attached to her face. It was a deceptively small figure, that was certain, but Sachiko knew that underestimating a ninja like this one would be her death—if said ninja didn’t die first. And this ninja was very clearly ANBU, one of the more dangerous breeds.

“You have to help her,” her child said, reminding her of that ill-made promise.

“She didn’t knock,” Sachiko replied, if only to be petty.

She could feel his glare on the back of her head, harsh and sharp. “You promised.”

“Fine.” After a moment, she prayed to the heavens that she wouldn’t regret this, and with a well placed shove, rolled the ninja to her back. Her breath caught at the strikingly familiar face—not quite Mebuki Haruno’s but a very close rendition—and half lidded green eyes, crusted with dried tears, rain, and mud. She looked, overall, like she had been dragged miles down the road and left for the crows. Something that felt a little like obligation welled in her belly, despite her aversion for ninja. “But you’re helping.”

Without waking the other children, Sachiko dragged the woman to a bare room, tossed down a sheet and sack of rice, laid her down, and got to work. She tore open the vest and discarded it in a corner to air out, the smell gradually turning from wet dog to rank sourness, and tugged up the girl’s shirt, but only after telling her son to turn around. She caught the tiny ends of petals sinking into her skin before there were open wounds, deep and crudely glued together, weeping freely onto her floor.

She grimaced and mentally counted the deep punctures as she uncorked a bottle of foul moonshine—her personal stash that she hadn’t touched in years—with a high alcohol percentage. She saw over twenty severe punctures, but there were easily thirty or so injuries interspersed in the same area, and poured the liquid over the wounds. It cleaned the skin around it and Sachiko was mildly surprised that it wasn’t a particularly deep tan she had, but such a thick layer of grime that it had almost sunk into her skin entirely. When she looked up to her face, her breath stilled in her lungs when she found a pair of bloodshot, green eyes staring at her warily, a hand halfway up and reaching for something hidden in her pants pocket.

Sachiko went still, her gaze darting from that hand to her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief when said eyes rolled back into her skull and the hand fell to the floor, limp.

She did what she could. Some of it was beyond her knowledge; they were more than just surface wounds, and the poor girl looked like she needed a medical ninja more than some backwater farmer with a handful of ninja experience. She cleaned the area up and stitched them closed, adding the gauze she had found in the ninja’s sealing scroll (that she knew how to open, at least) and pinning them in place with senbon that didn’t look like they were poisonous and had been rolling around in the bottom of a pouch stuffed full of ration bars.

When she was done, she got to her feet with a loud complaint from her knees. She would be regretting that for a few days to come, but when her child peered around her at the still body in the room, she figured it was worth it.

“Let her rest,” she said, ushering him to his own makeshift pallet and laying down on her own. “When she wakes, then you can pester her.”

But when morning came, and Sachiko opened the door with a plate of food she had grudgingly made for their guest, no one was there. The sheet had been cleaned, somehow, and folded and put into a corner, only faint blood stains visible upon it. The sack of rice laid atop it, innocent, and even the floors had been scrubbed clean of blood. And there, in the center of the room, was a pile of ryo, haphazardly placed as if she had put it there as an afterthought, along with seven ration bars that had bloody fingerprints on them.

Sachiko harumphed and scooped the ryo up, placing it in her little pocket, and regarded the ration bars with a narrow glare.

“Ninjas.” She scoffed, turning and taking the plate with her. “Nothing but trouble.”

Sakura had no way of knowing what her unintentional savior had thought of her parting with a vital resource to her survival. She had shelled out three hundred ryo from her meagre supply of just over a thousand, and she knew she couldn’t afford to do this again—to go to civilians for help when they were already as troubled as she was. She had tiptoed through the house, inspecting it for any sign that it might have been tampered with, and only found signs of a starving and poor household. She had given them ration bars, as well, to replace the bottle of moonshine she’d found sitting by the door that she was now taking swigs from to distract her from the pain.

It was almost as if her wounds being clean was more painful than them being dirty, really. She took a final swig and corked it, ambling through the forest and avoiding the more social members of the village coming out to play. The woman had looked mildly familiar to her, but nothing immediately obvious was coming to mind for her, and so she dismissed it as something irrational. It wouldn’t do her any good lingering on something like that. She was now off-course from Amegakure and, of course, had no way to track Neji now—she would have to go by her instincts and make her way there, if there was anything left of them by now. War Ops, she recalled, were easily wiped out if taken unawares.

It reminded her of Sasuke, in a way—he had taken her unawares, and nearly killed her for it, as well. He might have missed her heart, but he had not missed another vital organ she might have needed, one day. Tsunade had given her a solemn look when she had woken up in the hospital, tugged down her gown, and exposed a grisly scar from hip to hip, and Sakura had known what had happened. He had cut deeply enough to wound her ovaries, and there had been no saving them, as much as her former mentor had tried. It wasn’t as if she had any prospects for a future husband; she had originally hoped Sasuke still harbored some flame for her, even after all that time. It had been in the hospital where her love for him had withered and died and turned into something more malicious.

Perhaps it had been then that her problems had started. Sakura’s hand went to her belly in thought, darting under her shirt and tracing the scar that still felt raw and fresh, even after almost a year of healing and a unique skin therapy. Her life had spiraled from there, devolving from a broken heart to exile and execution in the span of a few months—though she wasn’t so delusional as to think her chakra turning on her like that was because of a broken heart. It had to be something else, something to do with the seal on her head; the Byakugou didn’t just change like that. She knew that innately; even Tsunade had said as much, when Sakura inquired if she could change the shape into something less attention-catching, like a circle. She no longer had the well of medical chakra, but a violently shifting lake of chakra that sent a chill through her every time she tried to mold it into some confined shape. Her chakra control, excellent and above even Tsunade’s, was her issue, now. She would have to have the recklessness of Naruto and the blind trust in skill that Sasuke had before she could even think about touching that chakra. Not that she even wanted to to begin with.

She paused in walking down the trodden path of broken underbrush and dying grass. What did she want to do? Other than her selfish need to live, what else was there to do? She had no village to fight for, no one to fight for except for herself. She relied on having others to occupy her selfishness, her unnerving sense of right and wrong, but those lines had been blurred and her selfishness was starting to turn inward towards her own wellbeing. She wasn’t getting anywhere not touching the malevolent chakra within her veins, and avoiding the deaths her contract required would most certainly kill her.

Living, Sakura decided, just wasn’t enough for her.

But then, she thought, as she ducked underneath a set of branches and found herself at a fork in the road, what would be enough for her, in the end?

She ignored the tiny little voice in the back of her head whispering “Nothing,” as she avoided the path on the right and set off on the left, walling off the quick succession of imagery that depicted Sasuke Uchiha dead at her hand, mutilated in the same way he had left her, flashing through her mind.

Maybe one day, she would give her ex-teammate the beating he deserved. But for now, she was going to go to the War Ops camp and fulfill her contract’s stipulation; after that, if she survived the war, she would entertain the idea of killing Sasuke Uchiha.

And the darker part of her heart told her she wouldn’t mind a bit if he was dead.

五 (yon) | masterlist | 六 (roku)

[bunny-heels]

MORE things about Dave, personality and physical stuff edition

reminder; my Dave is not William. they are two separate characters in my AU. please do not call my Dave 'William'

Dave is a pretty sarcastic and cocky acting person around Henry and Mike. its part of his genuinely personality but also somewhat an act he keeps up, since its the only one he can do that doesnt worry people

when alone, hes left with his thoughts that cause him to spiral down into a train station of ideas and scenarios. if in too deep, it takes a couple seconds for someome to snap him out of it

very, very rarely does he actually talk about his issues. if counted, its only about a few times in his life

since he works the dayshift and has to watch over the kids, he is pretty protective of them. if there are kids who are far from their parents, he'll stand near them until hes sure they're okay

if there is a bullied kid, he'll pull the kid away from the bullies and bring them to their parents, telling them what had happened. sometimes it leads to parents fighting, but he likes it since it lets him know the parents care for their kids

if there is a lost kid, he will refuse to leave the child alone until he finds their parents. depending on how the parents act, Dave will get upset with them and start talking smack, and either Henry or Mike have to step in to stop it

he doesnt have the best hygiene. he bathes and does his laundry, uses cologne and breath mints, but he doesnt really brush his teeth or wash his hair well. his teeth are always yellow and his hair is usually pretty oily. he doesnt get as much sleep as he should either, so theres constant bags under his eyes

he refuses to go to therapy or do any type of help for himself. from a young age he hated it becauee he didnt want to talk about what happened to him, and he still doesnt want to

despite this, he knows a lot about psychology, more than he thinks he does. he knows different methods of self-care, reflection, exercises, psychological approaches, he can even tell sometimes when someone is hiding their illness. he never applies this to himself

on weekdays, he's always seen in his work clothes and barely in anything else. on weekends, he usually wears hoodies, graphic tees, sweatpants, and the same cheap pair of sneakers he's had since high school

there isnt a lot of people that he interacts with after work or on days off. he spends most of his time by himself. he actually subconsciously does a good few amounts of distracting coping mechanisms to stop his mind from wandering

he used to hate any nickname he got where the word 'droop/droopy' was used. it wasnt until into his dayshift that regular costumers, kids and pre-teens, called him 'Droopy' and he felt a little better with them using it since they were younger and knew they were just using a silly nickname

he does sometimes make remarks that have to do with self harm and death, only really in front of Mike and Henry, in which they simply stare at him and say he should tone it down. sometimes he does, sometimes he doesnt

at some point he does become aware of the souls that are in the pizzeria. at first hes obviously terrified and thinks theyre going to haunt him, but later on he warms up to them, and they warm up to him. he doesnt like to pick favorites, but he does feel particularly closer to Samuel (the bite of 83' victim)

he can actually be one of the things that calm the souls down when they become rowdy or upset. Henry admires him for that

he self harms in a pretty gap pattern, only doing it at the lowest points of his mental state. rarely, he might even pick at his stab scars, which wont do much since they've healed over the years

he actually eats more healthy foods than most would think. its not like all he eats his healthy stuff, but Mike will catch him eating his lunch which is a salad or some vegan sandwiches and treats. but he does eat junk food a little more than healthy food

hes pretty skinny, hes a good bit over the line of being unhealthly thin, but he manages fine with it

hes got boney long fingers, which he attempts its fun to sometimes scare Mike with them

he actually agrees to hang out with Mike everytime hes invited to after work. he has fun being around him, talking to him, and spending time with him. he finds Mike to be a chill and judge free person. he doesnt know about Mike's past

he likes Henry a lot, and respects him as a boss way more than the last boss he had at his old job. he does get nervous talking to him sometimes, obviously since he is an authority figure, but he does warm up to him quickly everytime

he doesnt know who William Afton is, and has no idea he was the guy who hurt him back in '87

[gender-chaotic]

I don’t think I’ve hear anything about your Paranormal Investigator au?? Could you tell me/us about it?

Anon bless, thank you for giving me an exuse to info dump about my au. Also just a warning this is going to mix characters from all 3 canons and its gonna be pretty long. So this au takes place in pleasent pines Connecticut (based on peaceful pines from the show) that is a paranormal hotspot of sorts. Its seen as a town curse and while many of the townsfolk are vaugley aware of the cryptids,ghosts,monsters,ect. That are apart of the town they tend to turn a blind eye/ignore it. This also has to do with the witch trials that took place in Connecticut hundreds of years ago which raises the towns superstitions. Beej, adam, babs are paranormal investigators who live out of their van with lydia who doesnt live in the van with them but helps them hunt the paranormal Beetlejuice/bj/beej (Lawrence beetlejuice Shaggoth) (23) is one of the local paranormal investigator, at a young age he learned he could see ghosts due to the death of his father which was thought to be him leaving his family. After that beej started to see ghosts anywhere they were and tried to tell people around town and attempt to help ghosts as much as he could. This sparked beej's interest in becoming a paranormal investigator and he attempted for years to tell people and town and get them to pay attention but he ended up gaining the reputation as being the "crazy wierd kid who thinks he can see ghosts". Over the years as beej started to humant and investigate the paranormal more and more in town with the rest if the gang the town started to resent him more and he was also seen a making their "curse" worse not to mention breaking into buildings and generally "causing trouble" around town to do his job. Juno, mother to beej and his twin brother Donny hated this and for years tried to shut down his belief in the paranormal and discourage him from hunting ghosts. The fact that beej insists that he says he kept seeing his father as a ghost around made it worse. Juno is a successful buisness woman in town obsessed with her image and status in town and often pits donny and bj against eachother and cares more about they make her look than her own children. She made it clear all bj's life he was a disappointment and always insulted and berated him but favored donny, she even attempted to have beej institutionalized because of his ability to see ghosts and also undiagnosed mental illness she never took seriously, but since beej was always deemed "mentally healthy" it was never sucessful but gave him a fear of being institutionalized and asylums. When beej turned 18 she kicked him out of the house and beetlejuice dropped out of highschool, after this beetlejuice officially started his parnormal investigation buisness out of his van traveling around town and even out of town or out of state at times. Juno still lets him and the rest of the gang in the house at times or atleast let them sleep in the van in their driveway because donny begs her. Beetlejuice often steals food and supplies from his mom's place but donny replaces it for him and attempts to help beej out financially but of course beej is too stubborn to take it. Barbara(21) lived on a farm her whole life with a deeply religious family and was homeschooled, she often went into town to read books at the library where she learned about witchcraft and immediately took a liking to it, secretly practicing at home. Her parents unfortunatly found out multiple times and each and everytime threw out or destroyed any altars, books, herbs, ect. She had anything she had to do with witchcraft. When she was 18 a monster/crpytid started hunting down and killing local farm animals. Baraba who is an animal lover and also a very young witch secised to try and bring the animals back but failed and while doing so was kicked out of their home, blamed for the murders of those farm animals even after she insisted and begged it wasnt hrler and that it was somwthing else out there but none of her family believes her instead she is called the devil and various other insults. After this she moves in with adam for the time being who's parents reluctantly take her in temporarily. Adam (21) used to go to school with beej and donny back in middle/high school. For a long time he kind of saw beej how everyone else saw beetlejuice, and thought he was a crazy trouble making wierdo not wanting anything to do with him until one day barbara brings beetlejuice around telling adam they should help him hunt the paranormal, withadam being the tech guy since his love for fixing and building things carries over into more modern tech in this au. Adam doesnt believe beej at first but on their first job that quickly changes and the 3 of them eventually become paranormal investigation team, barbara being their witch/mystic and adam ad their tech/research/ and camera guy. Adam's parents eventually kick adam and barbara out because they don't approve of Barbara's witchcraft but also that both of them are working with the "town menace" beetlejuice so after that they live with beej out of the van. Often struggling to turn a profit or make ends meet . all of them become infamous around town and ans are mostly hated especially since they're rivaling otho. Otho(early to mid 30's) is the town's medium,exorcist ,paranormal investigator and rival of our mystery gang. Most of the town looks up to him and he's seen as the savior of pleasant pines when he's actually a fraud. He rarely actually solves any actually problems or finds a cheap/half assed way of doing it while pretending to this all powerful mystic. He also tends to just straight up exorsize ghosts even low level ones that arent demons or poltergeists when beetle juice tries to help these spirits and they down need to be exorsized. Otho is assisted by vanessa (She is the magician's assistant from the film)(24/25) his loyal assistant who enjoys having power in town and living ontop working for otho uaually willing to do whatever he says to help them rise to power of course she is very independent and will speak her mind, still often doing what she wants. They both along with otho's other followers want the mystery gang gone. Delia (early to mis 30's) is one of the the many deticated followers to otho in town, being one of his closest friends and wants to help in anyway she can. Delia is also a witch or a witch in training under otho but very new to witchcraft and since she is taken under otho's wing she doesn't really know alot of proper witchcraft. Delia is more naive and thinks otho is actually helping, wanting to assist him and the town in anyway possible. Lydia (13), Charles' daughter and delia's stepdaughter is fascinated with the paranormal and runs a blog "pleasant pines paranormal" documenting all things weird in town. Lydia is also obsessed with the mystery gang and desperately wishes to join them despite being so young and a job like this will put her in alot of danger. She eventually convinces them to hire them because of her father's connections to certain buildings and lands around town since charles has a job in real estate and is pretty successful/well off giving them leads ahead of otho. With her step mother's close friendship with him this also gives them a chance to one up him. Lydia can see ghosts loke beej but keeps it mostly a secret to not be ostracized even more by the town like beej is, and eventually learns witcraft under barbara. Through out the story lydia is also trying to look for emily's ghost around town or find her in some kind of after life. Charles (late 30's) as mentioned works in real estate in town inadvertently helping the gang with leads and investigation. Charles is more neutral toward otho and the mystery gang, he doesnt really see otho as a great saviour of the town like everyone else but luts up with all the otho stuff because of delia. He also doesn't hate the mystery gang just see's them as a bunch of kids making money the same way otho is although he isnt thrilled his daughter is following them around. This is the main cast and story for now, there are more characters like: tina (miss argentina) (24) who is childhood friends with beej and donny she like charles is more neuteral toward bith parties although since she ia friends with beetle juice she is more on their side, often trying to help them with food, essentials, somwetimes lets them sleep in her apartment and use her shower. She unfortunatly doeant areally believe that beej can see ghosts like the town and thinks its "delusions" which puts a strain in their friendship especially since tina thinks they should find a real job, this isnt malicious she's just worried about her friends and hates seeing them struggle. Tina Secretary/assistant to juno in this au and the ex girlfriend to vanessa. Tina doesnt really like otho and broke up with vanessa after she became closer and more loyal to him. Claire (13) lydia's classmate (and crush) like in the cartoon bullies lydia for being "weird" and helping the mystery gang, claire's parents are rich followers of otho. Sometimes acts as a spy/informant for otho to prove her loyalty to him and her parents. I think this is all the basic info and main cast stuff for the au im probably missing some stuff tho. Theres also alot of things i have developed already and alot more world building i want to do so if y'all wanna hear more about this au hmu in asks, I'll probably even draw some stuff for this au.

[whiskeykneat]

One More Saturday Night [2]

CHAPTER TWO

Smoke curls upwards from the cigarette dangling out of Joanna's mouth as she looks Gale up and down. It's near ten o'clock, long after the street lamps have clicked on, and the air outside the carhop smells of oil and grease. Gale has just gotten off his shift at the mine, he's scrubbed and scrubbed at the coal dust in the seams of his hands, but with back to back twelve hour shifts, they'll never be clean.

The letter that came this morning from the capital is burning a hole in his pocket.

He'd taken one look at it sitting forlornly on the kitchen table next to his warm dinner, and when his mother's step had creaked on the bottom stair, Gale didn't have to look past the washtub curtain to know that she'd been crying, he could hear it in her voice.

[[MORE]]

I'm going out, Ma, he'd said, but hadn't stopped her when she'd drawn him tight to her thin body for a fierce hug.

You tell Katniss, Gale. Tell her tonight, Hazelle had whispered, wiping her eyes. And give her my love.

"Katniss?" Joanna purses her red lips, sucking on the cigarette so hard he can imagine what those sinful red lips would look like wrapped around his cock, and Gale gives her a once-over of his own. "She's working. Took my shift." She brushes past him, letting him feel every inch of her pointy brassiere pressing up to his chest. "You're gonna have a hard time prying her from that dump up to Lookout Point tonight." Joanna rolls her eyes, nodding towards the parking lot, full of every warm-blooded teenager in town, as if there's nothing better to do on a Saturday night in 1964, in every house in town a television, on every radio the sound of the devil's music.

For the times they are a-changin’...

"You could come up to Lookout Point with me." Joanna's red nails lightly trail down his forearm, and goosebumps pimple along Gale's skin. She looks up at him from under her lashes, biting down on the tip of her thumb. And he considers it for a moment, he really does, but he's been down that road before: sinking down into her warm wet softness, hearing her mewl as she claws his back, begging him to empty himself inside of her, anything to fill the gaping hole inside them both.

Joanna purrs as she runs a finger up his chest, playing with his collar. "It ain't as pretty, but we can go down to the Slag Heap if you've a mind to get ham-hocked." There's no reason he should refuse her. Thom will be there, after all, and every other man on the crew. Right now, nothing sounds better than drinking so hard he can't see straight, anything except thinking about the letter in his pocket.

Gale looks down at Joanna for a moment, and he hears what she's saying to him, offering him a way out tonight, a way to forget that in two days, he’ll be on a train to his army training, where they'll put a gun in his hands and send him off to the jungle, and there will be no more Saturday nights like this one, where all he has to worry about is which pretty girl he’ll be taking home.

(All of them. None of them. Any of them except the only one he wants, the only one he's ever wanted, the one he can never have at all.)

He fingers the ribbon wrapped around his wrist, threadbare now, but once as sky blue as the bottles that hang from the chinaberry tree outside his mother’s front door -- as if it is what is keeping him tethered to this town, like a candle burning against the darkness. "Nah, not tonight."

"Well, if you want something to take the edge off, you know where to find me." Joanna pouts dramatically, one hand on her hip. She winks, then, and leaves him, a cloud of Chanel in her wake.

As if his body has a mind of its own, Gale finds himself hopping back in the truck, and bringing it around to the parking lot. The carhop is jumping tonight, hormones and energy pumping out of every sleek car, on beat with the music.

Stay… just a little bit longer…

Gale parks in the back, near the tree line, and cuts the engine. The place is full of Townies, all dressed to the nines, the boys with shaggy Beatles hair and the girls in mini skirts and beehives. In his work denim and his button down plaid shirt, Gale feels suddenly old beyond his years and out of place, as though he's peeped into a pinhole camera of an era gone by, one he never belonged to, was never a part of. These boys have never spent twelve hours down in a mining shaft, working every muscle as they lay waste to the mountain. They've never left school to become breaker boys, separating the impurities from the coal. They do not know what it's like to descend down into the darkness, day after day after day, until it is like you have never known the light.

“What would you like?” The voice, a car over, arrests him in his tracks, and Gale feels his whole body shiver with recognition.

It's the voice that's haunted his dreams since the summer of 1961, sleepy afternoons and strawberry kisses. It's the haunting melody of the piano drifting through the dusty air as he makes his way to the mine in the dawnlight, pricking memories long buried: of her in his arms, twirling around in that big, empty gazebo. That slate-tiled gazebo, with the big cupola, with lots of shady corners for stealing kisses. It was where Madge Undersee had her debutante ball, as Gale watched from the shade of the sycamore tree in his ill-fitting suit, and knew he could never be a part of her world.

He'd taken employment in the mine the very next day, and the day he'd turned eighteen he'd gone down in the pit for the first time, the memory of the girl he could never have seared forever on his heart.

•••

Gale hasn't seen Madge Undersee since the morning after the debutante ball, when he'd met her under the sycamore tree just past the edge of the sprawling gardens, where once he'd carved their initials together: M+G.

She'd been wearing white, he recalls: a frothy camisole, so fine he could see the outline of her breasts and feel the answering swell in his denim jeans, and pine green silk pajama pants that hugged her delicate curves. Gale knew that if he touched her, the silk would whisper over her skin, that she'd make a little moan in her throat, and that her lips would be velvety and plush, tasting of clouds and cream as he parted them with the tip of his tongue.

If he kissed her, he'd be unable to finish what he came to do, and that's the one thing that killed him, to take the only thing good and fine in his world, and make what lay between them something cheap.

He thought about her father, and the suitcase of money, money that could have fed his whole family for a year, and bought a new house besides, were he the kind of man who didn't have his pride, the kind of man who didn't know right from wrong. He was seventeen, but he's been a man since he was twelve, the night his father died and mantle of responsibility, of family, came to lay on his shoulders.

Madge smiled up at him, handing him a tiny teacup filled with black coffee, his big, rough working man's hand nearly engulfing her own. For a moment, he let his hand linger on hers, until her cheeks turned pink, and then he took a step back, the space between them thick with words unspoken. There was an eyelash on her cheek, he wanted to blow it off, he wanted to make a wish. But the time had passed for such foolish fancies.

My daughter is not for you, Gale Hawthorne, Mayor Undersee had said gently, the suitcase lying on the table between them like Pandora's Box, the sounds of the party drifting up from below. There was a line of coal smudged along the cuff of Gale's suit jacket, and he tugged at his sleeve, feeling the poorly constructed seams give out just a touch.

The tux belonged to Thom's pa, who was as of a mind as Gale's in that a suit was only for marrying and burying. Not fucking around at a party to impress some high class piece of tail. Gale had never wanted to deck the elderly man more in his entire life.

I wanna hold your hand, crooned Paul McCartney on the record player.

Under the ancient sycamore tree, Madge's eyes were as deep and blue as the Delft china plates in the display case at the five and dime, and the little gold flecks danced like specks of sunlight as she gazed up at him. When he spoke, tears sprung to her eyes, and her teacup fell to the roots of the tree, shattering and spilling like the sound a heart makes when it breaks beyond hope or repair.

High in the tree, a pair of mated bluebirds sang, to usher in the morning.

•••

There she is, Miss Prim and Proper, the Debutante herself: Madge Undersee. And she looks better than ever, if that's possible: golden and slender, with legs that go on forever. Gale can't help but drink every bit of her in, as if he hasn't been able to stop thinking of her since the day they parted, as if he’s never thought about walking up to the front door of her house and asking if she's home. But he heard from Katniss that Madge went up to university in Charlottesville, and he’d thought that after that, she'd never return.

He's heard a rumor that Madge got engaged, that she's marrying Seneca Crane, the son of a senator, the china already picked and the invitations sent out.

If that's the truth, why is Madge working at the carhop? She should be making her wedding trousseau. She should be shopping all over Paris with her Daddy's money, and buying French lingerie for that stuck up rich man, to lie in his big bed with the hundred count sheets, and let him taste her sweetness.

Like clouds and cream. Like strawberries.

"Fuck!" Gale presses his forehead to his hands, which are clenched on the steering wheel.

He should drive out of here right now. He should go home and get a good sleep in his own bed. He should… But he won't. And, catching himself rubbing the satin ribbon around his wrist again, he knows why.

Madge Undersee.

He's halfway out of the car already when he hears her voice again, and this time nothing can stop Gale Hawthorne from getting what he's come back for, from the one person he can't leave behind without saying goodbye.

•••

“Please, please don't.” Madge vainly bats at the hands groping her ass, and for a moment she's back in the frat house, trying to push Seneca off of her as his tongue goes down her throat and his knee forces her legs apart.

You're so frigid, Margreta. Don't be such a goddamned prude.

“You heard the lady. She said no.”

It's like she's imagining things. Gale Hawthorne. Standing between her and Cato Curlew, steel in his tone. His voice ripples with command, and Madge feels a trickle of warmth low in her belly, though she's still angry with him, after all these cold years apart.

Why is he here now, when he's stayed away for so long? Doesn't he know that she no longer needs him, that she stopped waiting for him long ago? “I don't need your help,” Madge informs Gale’s broad shoulders. “Go away.”

She can hear the sneer in Cato’s voice. “That ain't no lady.” He spits a stream of tobacco on the asphalt. “Everyone with half a brain knows that she's been spreading her legs for any Seam bastard who asks since she was sixteen.”

Gale grabs Cato by the shirt, and blood sprays against the mirror on the door. Cato comes out swinging, shaking his head like a bull before he charges at Gale. Madge screams, and they all come running, the boys laying bets, the girls huddled to the side and watching through their fingers, titillated and horrified all at once.

The two men square off on the blacktop, Cato big and square and stocky, Gale tall and broad-shouldered but with a latent strength honed from years swinging a pickaxe. Cato is bleeding from the nose, and his fists are up as he and Gale circle one another. Madge has heard the stories, Cato killed the last man he fought in a brawl, down in Wheeler.

“Don't! Stop!” She tries to dart between them, but Wheatley Mellark grabs her arm, hauling her back.

“You'll just make it worse,” he murmurs in her ear.

“Get him, Cato!” Cato’s friend Marvel cups his hands and lets out a wild yell, and Cato surges forward like he's been shot from a cannon. “Show that Seam bastard what we do to coal miners who think they can touch Town women!”

Madge is pale, she is shaking. “Stop them,” she begs Wheatley and Delly, who has appeared at her other side, a serious look on her face.

Gale and Cato circle one another on the gray, cracked asphalt, dust rising in the air.

“That's right,” Gale taunts, his voice deep and carrying. “These dirty, coal-stained hands have touched Town women… While you're at your office with your secretary, I've been plowing your girlfriends… Your wives… And your momma, Curlew.”

Cato roars, and charges Gale. Gale dodges Cato, turning and socking his fist into Cato’s jaw. Cato spits out blood, lunging for Gale, and then both men are on the asphalt, rolling over and over with the smell of heat and blood in the air.

“Stop it! Gale Hawthorne, stop it right now!” Katniss comes gliding across the pavement, but Peeta Mellark, near the edge of the crowd, catches her arm, his mouth moving in words that Madge cannot make out, even if she wanted to.

She can hear nothing except the thud of flesh on flesh, and then Gale is on top of Cato, punching and punching him, and suddenly the wail of police sirens can be heard coming down the avenue, and Madge snaps out of her coma.

“We have to go!” Madge yanks on Gale’s arm, hard, and he resists her for only a moment before snapping back into focus, his dark gray eyes gone soft as he looks at her. She doesn't want to think about what that means, not right now, not when this could all be taken away in an instant. Cato is Town, and his daddy is a rich man besides. Gale is Seam. A night in jail would be the lightest of sentences Gale could pray for.

So instead, Madge leans forward, cupping Gale’s jaw, and whispers in his ear, “Now,” and Gale, stumbling like a drunk in the dark, doesn't question her when she jumps into the truck beside him and grinds the gears, and they speed off into the night.

•••

“You're an idiot.” Madge presses the damp napkin a little too hard to Gale’s jaw, and he winces, trying to pull away. “You know that?” Her voice is low and furious, and he thinks he's never been more intrigued by her than at this very moment, all her ladylike poise gone, the air between them crackling like lightning about to strike.

“Maybe if you had stayed where you were supposed to be --” Gale growls, turning his jaw from her ministrations. “On your side of town -- Then I wouldn't have had to step in in the first place!”

“I don't see how it's any of your business where I spend my time, or who I spend it with!” Madge pushes on Gale’s chest, and he laughs darkly. “What's your problem?”

“You are! If you had just stayed in your place -- the princess in her tower -- instead of slumming it --” He’d kill any man who touched her without her permission, she has to know that.

Tears spring to the corners of her eyes, and for an instant Gale feels like a monster for wounding her, but -- You deserve this, he reminds himself. She can't know that all he wants to do is to take her in his arms and kiss her tears away. He's already made his choice.

“I…” Madge turns her face away for a moment, composing herself. He wonders if she still sings to herself in her head. He wonders why he can feel the space between their bodies so keenly, why he still wants to pull her close, to open the door they locked so long ago. “I think you should take me home.”

Gale swallows, turning his face to hers. In the moonlight, her profile would look at home stamped on an antique bronze coin, too beautiful to be anything but legendary. Wars have been fought over women like Madge Undersee, in times of old. She's everything that's wrong and right for him, and even though his heart says it's right, his mind whispers that it's wrong, wrong, wrong.

Gale leans toward Madge, who tenses, and as he wraps a finger around single golden curl, she turns her face up to him with a question in her eyes, that indent on her lower lip enchanting him as it did when he was a boy, begging to be explored by his tongue. His hand comes up, and he caresses the line of her jaw, feeling her tremble uncontrollably at his touch. “What are you so afraid of?” Gale whispers huskily, even though he knows the answer.

What he isn't expecting are the next words out of her mouth.

“I don't want Daddy to hear about…” she waves a hand to encompass their surroundings, or maybe the events that have taken place. “...this.”

“I didn't ask for his damned approval.” His laugh is rusty, as though it's been a long time since he's had anything to laugh about. “I bet Daddy approves if he's got cash in his pockets instead of coal.”

Madge reels back, as if she's been slapped. “Fuck you.” Before Gale can process what's happening, the car door slams behind her, and she runs barefoot across the dark parking lot, and straight into the Slag Heap.

“Fuck!” Gale slams his hands on the dashboard, wincing. He leaves the door swinging, and runs after her.

She's standing at the bar when Gale catches up to her, her shoulders heaving, downing a shot of something amber, the heady scent of it already purring on her skin. “What do you want?” She slams the shot glass on the bar with a hiss, and Gale grabs her by the shoulders, unsure of what he intends to do right up until this moment.

“Another shot,” the bartender drawls, and Gale slams it down, and then he's kissing Madge Undersee, his hands cupping that little heart shaped face, his thumbs stroking her jawline, the taste of her as raw and real as though it's been home all along, as if he's never known it until she's back in his arms, pliant and soft, nipping at her bottom lip, his tongue meeting hers, tasting of amber and cream and the mist that rises off the mountains in the morning.

Madge pulls back, and slaps him, hard. “You bastard.” There's a round of shocked applause, led by Joanna, who blows Gale a sultry kiss and a wink, leaning against her pool cue before lining up her shot.

But Gale isn't here for Joanna tonight. “Madge!” Gale bellows, past caring what anyone thinks. His long strides overtake her in the parking lot, and he finds her leaning against the cab of his truck, her shoulders shaking.

“Get me out of here, Gale,” Madge whispers, her voice raw.

He touches her gently, as though she is a wild doe that might startle or frighten, and she surprises him by turning around and falling into his arms, her face pressed to his chest, her heart matching the beat of his own. He lifts her tear streaked face with one finger, and then she stands on tip-toe, and they are kissing again, slow and soft and sure, as if all the time they've spent apart has been leading up to this moment.

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 6

Last Time on Grand Theft Auto:

Tsubasa recovers from the world’s gayest coma as Hibiki trains her mind while putting aside such silly concepts as “the love of my life” and “literally being with my girlfriend.” After cooling Miku’s paranoia with her brand new washboard abs, Genjuro prepares the team for a pizza run across the city to deliver a dangerously hot pizza pie named Durandal. Chaos emerges as the delivery is intercepted by a rival pizza gang, lead by the nefarious Gremlin known as Yukine Chris. But, before the pizza could be claimed, dedicated pizza deliverywoman Hibiki not only steals it back, but eats it, harnessing the power of the pizza and unleashing cheesy pasta based chaos around the location.

Ryoko is so into it that she taps into her superpowers and protects Hibiki after she passes out. The delivery is considered a failure, and no tip is given.

And so, the journey continues...

Meanwhile, in this weird, tricked out mansion...

Chris meditates on some water metaphors of her own.

“that pacman colored freak took only touching it to activate a cheap ass french sword that gave her weird demon powers and its taken me YEARS to use this dumb stripper outfit and the funny cane that goes with it, what the FUCK man, what even is my life”

“maybe... maybe honeybaked hams ARE that powerful...”

“NO! turkey is the superior meat! it’s healthier, lower in fat, and way more tasty! fuck you! i’ll get my goddamned revenge!”

Chris begins musing about Fine’s motivations to capture Hibiki; during these, we’re treated to some brief image flashbacks of Chris’s life.

Suddenly, those jokes about food are a lot less funny.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together as to why this young woman is helping a strange nudist dominatrix spread alien terror across the city of mumblednoises, Japan. She doesn’t really have many an option on the table. It’s either help the weird kinkster with her plans, or die.

Despite everything, she has a high opinion of Fine, for the same reasons someone might have a high opinion of a television show if it were the only show they were ever exposed to. She is deeply afraid of being alone again, because she has lived through such misery that the very thought of existing out in the cold again terrifies the shit out of her.

The Sun rises casually amidst Chris’s thoughts.

“ah shit. it just hit me. i literally have spent the entire night standing here instead of actually going the fuck to sleep. goddamnit.”

On such a devious metaphorical twist, Fine stands behind her as the Sun rises.

“yeah, jokes on you. i couldnt sleep for shit either. turns out, all nude, no blankets? in japan? real bad idea.”

“thats why i decided to GO GOTH, babey! whattaya think? do i give those witchy vibes, huh? real ‘black magic woman’ santana hours? feeling cute, gonna head out with the girls and summon satan in the woods kinda aesthetic looking shit? come on, be real with me. does this not look baller?”

“you look like morticia decided to go to the grocery store to buy some wonder bread, but other than that, its a step up from your usual pussy out attitude, so sure”

“you know i decided to get some brain cells on loan from Brain Cells R Us, and ive been thinking this solomon cane stuff is solomon lame. i dont need this dumb oversized harry potter cosplay prop to get shit done. also, murder is... sorta bad? im still trying to get the brain cell stuff down.”

“i can punch just as good as goody two shoes if not better.”

“lol go do it then champ, im gonna go cut down a forest of trees now”

And so, they both just kinda... stand there.

“QUACK, NEXT SCENE, QUACK”

Meanwhile, Tsubasa is rapidly trying to rehabilitate herself from her wounds like walking like a madman, her IV drip presumably filled with Taco Bell brand Doritos Locos Tacos super spicy nacho cheese. Taco Bell: Live Mas.

“im gonna clear every fucking taco bell in your goddamned memory, kanade”

“think outside the bun! wait, what? that was a taco bell slogan? ah fuck it, im dead. what nerd’s gonna try and correct me?”

“i would, kanade. i am that nerd.”

Tsubasa is hell bent to try and understand Kanade’s simple philosophy of helping others selflessly. Unfortunately, when Kanade died, she took all the brain cells between them in the process, so coming to this epiphany is a work in progress.

“listen its a fucking miracle you are 1. alive and 2. able to have your blood run on the garbage melted plastic taco bell tries to dupe people into believing is cheese so why dont you just lie down and think of better franchises to eat from”

“no! you dont understand! taco bell is a franchise of the PEOPLE! their meals are cheap and filling and- and the chicken quesadillas are of good quality for their price! i promised kanade- my vow to the death. taco bell... ergh... now and forever... i-”

“wait. my gay senses are tingling.”

It’s Hibiki, probably running track with Miku.

“oh yeah... her... i should probably apologize to her. about trying to kill her. and then letting her almost be kidnapped. and just giving her a general hard time about something that wasn’t explained to her in the slightest for months. she’s a good bean.”

Tsubasa proceeds to never canonically apologize to Hibiki throughout the entirety of all 4 seasons of Symphogear.

Look at em run. See, it’s a metaphor, because they haven’t communicated yet and they’re running from their problems! But they’re running towards Tsubasa, who is part of the representative problem these two share! Clearly literary genius.

It’s like someone went halfway into writing an NTR plotline and went “maybe this isn’t a good idea to market our songs on.”

Hibiki is still thinking about her Hellshake Yano moment with Durandal. Mainly how she nearly killed someone with it. Hibiki is very starkly in the “killing is bad, and wrong” camp of morality, a trait currently unique to her that she’ll wind up teaching literally everyone else she meets one way or another.

Some could argue the L stands for Lydian, and they’re wrong. It stands for Lesbian.

“that was one hell of a run, hibiki! im pooped! why dont we go to the locker room and call it a day, have a nice shower and just get some dinn-”

“this is the last straw.

i clean your plates. i cook your food. we eat, shit, shower, and sleep in the same FUCKING area, and this is how you repay me? huh? you think being your wife is easy shit, hibiki? half the damn time you’re running off like clark kent having food poisoning and the other half ive gotta babysit you, the emotional equivalent of a preteen clown, to make sure your life doesn’t self destruct harder than Atlantis sinking into the ocean. im done! i am DONE. im reopening my tinder, im slamming my ass BACK into okcupid, and im gonna date some CUTE ACADEMY GIRLS that treat me BETTER than this ABSOLUTE BETRAYAL OF HEART AND IM NOT CRYING I SWEAR ITS JUST THE SWEAT IN MY EYES AND HIBIKI HOW COULD YOU-”

“oh yeah, sure! hey, lemme just do a few more laps, ive just been feeling judgmental about myself and my figure, you know? gotta push myself further...”

“o-oh yeah, sure. no worries, ill wait for you. love you too, hibiki...”

The girls bathe together, as good friends typically do.

“hey you ever notice the showers here have like, weird psuedo-luxurious minipools to bathe in? like, how rich is this school?”

“whoever made this place is either rich or a pervert. or both, probably!”

Miku remarks that Hibiki has changed since she’s entered Lydian, in a manner most unheterosexual.

“oh FUCK you really DO have washboard abs now! ohhh my god.”

“damn, those abs were heavenly. let’s get pancakes later.”

I won’t screenshot it but something to note is that they actually wear each other’s corresponding underwear colors (or even, if you want to examine more closely, each other’s underwear). Here’s an equivalent scene to give you the mental image.

This is the face of someone who knows what they want and already have it. Such is the power of Kohinata Miku.

Meanwhile, Genjuro comes back from the funeral of the guy the Americans filled violently and with impunity.

“yo that all black look looks baller. i should borrow that look... id look pretty gothy in it.”

“ryoko i sympathize with your sharp, fashionista eye but this was for a funeral, i was paying my respects to the dead. thats the usual dress code.”

“didnt know they updated that. i remember back in my day, we just went in white garments and chanted in latin!”

“shit was fire. literally. lots of funeral pyres.”

“lmao ryoko buddy your larping sessions arent actual history”

“hey dont shit on larping around me. i used to be a professional larper while i was majoring in acting. helped really sell my career when i had to pretend to slay the Dark Lord Jyarloen atop the mountain of skulls in Hargobor after my family was killed by the Dark Army. asshole.”

“haha yeah, larping, thats cool yeah, i do that

i...

i larp.”

“oh yeah? you wanna join my larping session sometime then? we’re gonna do an ancient babylon plot thats inspired by some anime, itll be fun”

“.....................................im super into realism.”

“i know im dressed for a funeral but id like to not part ways with my dignity yet. besides, we’ve got serious shit to talk about. basically, we’re on the verge of getting shitcanned.”

As it turns out, the death of this politician removed the last obstacle of opposition to maintain the 2nd Division, as the average criticism against the 2nd Division is “why are we funding this mystery division when we don’t know what they do”. Of course, the sensible idea for an organization that defeats the Noise is to declassify it, given people of different jobs and positions have physically seen the Symphogear in action, but you know. “Oh no, the other governments will come after us” stick gets shaken.

“im in a union. i know my rights. you’re not taking my acting job here away from me.”

“im not going back to be a preschool teacher. its been ten year. the bites on my ankles still havent healed...”

“yeah man, shit sucks ass. i cant fund my adoption habits if im fired.”

Look at these cinematic parallels. Symphogear truly is a franchise made by someone living in 3030.

“worst part is the new minister is super into america. he’s a... westaboo.”

“a westaboo?”

“westaboo?”

“did he just unironically say westaboo”

“he said westaboo. oh my god. this is the hell timeline.”

“i mean people kept calling me that for worshipping all these fighting flicks so i guess it fit? i dont see the problem here”

Meanwhile, in Lydian Academy...

“so it hit me, right? we’re ALL girls. and we ALL sing. now, humor me a moment. what if... what if we’ve all been recruited to potentially be superheroes... through our singing? like, there’s no coincidence that all this shit happens around us, right? and a famous singer LIVES here? i saw the black cars outside! weird shit is happening here- im not even gonna eat the all you can eat bar anymore!”

“kathy there is literally no such thing as superheroes who sing. this place is more likely to be a organ harvesting op than whatever madness you’re saying”

“what? you need me, a singing superhero, to go stop a problem happening underneath the school, a location meant to recruit young women into potentially becoming fellow crime fighting singers?”

“yeah im too busy poppin’ caps in asses so go kick ass in my place”

“sure!”

“.....................................who ya talkin to, hibiki?”

“the boss! gotta go do a thing again...”

“hibiki, i dont like the fact that capitalism is tearing us apart.”

“you’ve gotta join me in the revolution, hibiki. you. me. luxury automated gay space communism. aint it the dream? share my vision, hibiki. its glorious.”

“n... no...? no gay space communism today? well, what about tomorrow? or the next day? or... maybe the next day? baby steps, you say? but, direction action, hibiki! we’ve gotta strike now!”

“it’s okay hibiki. when i take over the world and destroy all first world government leaders, and unite the globe in my encompassing reign and love... ill make sure to spare you, and be my bride to be.”

“thanks miku. im just not ready yet for the globe to burn in an unending ball of fire as the continents fuse into a new utopia composed of our combined wills. also, ive really gotta go, its genuinely an emergency.”

“for the cause!”

“yes hibiki... for the cause...”

Admittedly, you can see the stages of grief Miku goes through when she sees Hibiki say she can’t join her for pancakes. It’s sad. This side story sucks.

Meanwhile, as it turns out, the problem Hibiki needed to resolve was checking on Tsubasa to see if she hadn’t dissolved into Taco Bell brand hot n’ spicy Tabasco sauce.

“god, cant believe taco bell was closed. now i gotta deliver these lame ass flowers”

“cant wait to get threatened again. wonder what she’ll say. ‘hibiki, i should have killed you when i had the chance.’ or ‘you’re so goddamned weak. i could break your spine with my fingernail’, or some other stuff about metaphors. oh, my stops here”

“HEY BITCH WHATS GOOD-”

“HOLY SHIT”

“you are already”

“dead.”

[phxne-gxy]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻

repost,  don’t reblog !

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.    Scott Calder  NICKNAME.    Phone Guy; Scotty Boy; Manager Stumpy; Kid; Scoot GENDER.    Cis Male HEIGHT.     5′8″ AGE.    I’m bad at math and timelines are hard; somewhere in his late 20′s.  ZODIAC.    N/A SPOKEN LANGUAGES.   English

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.    Black; has always been black but he does get a few grey hairs over the course of his lifetime.  EYE COLOR.   Brown   BODY TYPE.   Slim; Not at all Muscular.  ACCENT.     How the fuck would you describe Cawthon’s voice? UH. Stutters and stammers a lot but that’s not really an ACCENT per say.  VOICE.   Voiced by Scott Cawthon; Link to Phone Calls from the first game which is more accurate for my Phone Guy due to plot reasons.  DOMINANT HAND.    Right before losing it to Foxy. Because of this, his handwriting is atrocious.  POSTURE.   The man reeks of anxiety; constantly fidgets and tries to make himself appear smaller or less visible. Very guarded body language (I.E shoulders drawn to ears; avoiding eye contact etc. etc)  SCARS.    Several around the amputated area of what remains of his right arm; scars all along the left arm from Foxy’s hook during the attack. A scar across his nose and his cheek. Facial scars are covered with bandaids and plasters during work hours to stop the children from seeing. He also tends to keep his remaining arm completely wrapped in bandages for the same reason.  TATTOOS.    None in the FNAF verse; Modern AU Has a watercolor fox on his chest, near his heart. The fox has an arrow through its right front paw.  BIRTHMARKS.    None. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).    Speech impediment, the implication of injuries due to his bandages, missing arm and lack of a prosthetic. 

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.    N/A  HOMETOWN.     N/A ; if we’re gonna pull from the lore of the books, the Pizzeria is located in Utah.  BIRTH WEIGHT.   Who the FUCK knows this BIRTH HEIGHT.   NO REALLY WHO THE FUCK KNOWS THIS MANNER OF BIRTH.    Natural. (WHY THIS?)  FIRST WORDS.    “Car” and various other baby babbles.  SIBLINGS.   Daniel Calder; Deceased (due to Scott’s actions as a teenager.) Head was crushed inside the Fredbear animatronic during the birthday party.  PARENTS.   Mary and Alex Calder. PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.   After the accident, the Calder parents grew very cold towards their eldest son, flickering between bouts of ignoring him and bouts of being physically and verbally abusive. Once Scott was out of high school, he was kicked out of the home. 

He hasn’t had contact with them since. They’ve completely cut all ties and effectively disowned Scott as a son. 

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.   Manager of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria; Former Security Guard (Day and Night.)  CURRENT RESIDENCE.    A cheap apartment that isn’t that far a walk from the Pizzeria.  CLOSE FRIENDS.    None really; has trouble accepting relationships and most of his former acquaintances are no longer in the fandom.  RELATIONSHIP STATUS.   Single.  FINANCIAL STATUS.    Scrapping by on the skin of his teeth but attempting to remain optimistic about it. Pretty much everything goes towards his rent and bills.  DRIVER’S LICENSE.   No. Physically isn’t able to drive anyway.  CRIMINAL RECORD.    Technically no, as he was a minor during the bite and the blame was squared more towards the Diner rather than the kids. It was their animatronic that caused the issue.  VICES.   Vices as in coping methods that are frowned upon or vices as in the sins? But definitely Gluttony and Envy. 

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.   Homosexual; Closeted due to social stigma.  ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.   Homoromantic; Closeted due to social stigma.  PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE.    submissive |  dominant  | switch PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.    submissive  | dominant  |  switch LIBIDO.    Medium. Often gets too drowned in work to focus on it.  TURN ON’S.    Praise; Marking; Dominance but nothing TOO rough.  TURN OFF’S.   Blood play; Aggressiveness; pretty much most...things that stray out of vanilla territory.  LOVE LANGUAGE.   Acts of Service; TOUCH would be a big thing once he’s comfortable enough with his partner.  RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.   Tends to trust too easily and rush into things because he is so desperate for validation and affection. Once he knows the other person is committed to him, he becomes very clingy. There’s A LOT of self-loathing to dig through to get to that point though. 

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.  God there’s so many...........but Only the Good Die Young; Billy Joel comes to mind first. 

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.  Watching television and movies; listening to music; Going on walks.  MENTAL ILLNESSES.     Severe Anxiety and Depression; PTSD; Night Terrors; etc etc. God. Help this man.  PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.    Phantom Pains from his amputated limb. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.    Likely.....left..... PHOBIAS.    The Dark; Abandonment; Death.  SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.    Very LOW. When trying to strap on his Manager Persona, he tries to portray himself more capable than he is but it’s quickly picked apart due to his body language and speech impediment. Some of the recordings he was instructed to leave (I.E the springlock suit training tapes) he comes across more confident because he was allowed to restart as many times as needed to keep his voice level and clear. VULNERABILITIES.    His general gullibility and naive trust in people. Complete and utter lack of self-confidence and self-esteem.  Sensitivity to bullying and triggering content from his past. 

TAGGED BY:   @ianhowellgcpd (by extension shhhhhhh fjlksdjf) 

Tagging: @williamafton

[abitscripturient]

Hikaru

Body and Appearance

1. Describe the character's height and build. Is he heavyset, thin, short, rangy? Hikaru is about 5'8. He's slender with a muscular body especially around his abs, chest and arms.  2. How old is he? 28 3. Describe his posture. Does he carry himself well or does he slouch? Hikaru never slouches; his father looks down on it. Also his training has taught a certain way to carry himself.  4. How is his health? Is he fit or out of shape? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities? Hikaru is in great shape. He runs every morning and tries to eat well. He has no known illnesses. 5. How does he move? Is he clumsy, graceful, tense, fluid? At first glance, Hikaru would see like he was always tense, but really from his martial arts training, he could be quite fluid and quick on his feet if need be. 6. How attractive is this character physically? How does he perceive himself in the mirror? He is very attractive; he definitely lucked out with his parents genes and girls are always trying to be around him. However, he doesn't let this get to his head and he sees himself as a normal looking man. 7. Describe his complexion. Dark, light, clear, scarred? Light skin-slightly tanned. No imperfections or scars.  8. Describe his hair: color, texture, style. He has black short hair, slightly shaved in the back but in the front its longer and he either leaves it down or uses gel to slick it back. 9. What color are his eyes? Dark brown 10. Does the character have any other noteworthy features? Huge bright smile that people rarely see nowadays. 11. What are his chief tension centers? His shoulders, from sitting at his desk for a long time. 12. What is the character's wardrobe like? Casual, dressy, utilitarian? Bright colors, pastels, neutrals? Is it varied, or does he have six of the same suit? Hikaru dresses like a gentleman majority of the time. He is a suit man especially a black suit man. He wears a suit to work but wears a white doctor coat over his dress shirt.  13. Do his clothes fit well? Does he seem comfortable in them? Yes, they always fit well; he sees to it that they do and that they are comfortable because he bought them and they weren't cheap. 14. Does he dress the same on the job as he does in his free time? If not, what are the differences? Even when he's not in classy dress mode, he still still dresses well in cargos , khakis, jeans etc. Though from time to time he still wears a suit, depending on how he's feeling. 15. You knew it was coming: Boxers, briefs or commando? Boxer briefs are Hikaru's underwear of choice. Speech 1. What does this character's voice sound like? High-pitched, deep, hoarse?  Deep and soothing.  2. How does he normally speak? Loud, soft, fast, evenly? Does he talk easily, or does he hesitate?  He talks loudly when things have especially irritated him, but other than that Hikaru is a pretty calm speaker. 3. Does the character have a distinct accent or dialect? Any individual quirks of pronunciation? Any, like, you know, verbal tics? Hikaru has a definite accent which he tries to taper down while working or in front of his American friends. 4. What language/s does he speak, and with how much fluency?  He is fluent in both Japanese, his native language and in English because his father wanted him to learn in case he had to take over his medical office in America. 5. Does he switch languages or dialects in certain situations?  He speaks Japanese while with his family at home, English in professional settings and English with Aija though he is trying to teach her certain words. 6. Is he a good impromptu speaker, or does he have to think about his words?  He is a good speaker. He never has to think about his words and tries to be as professional with them as he can. He tries to do this often with his patients. 7. Is he eloquent or inarticulate? Under what circumstances might this change?  He is as Aija told him impeccable with his English. That goes for writing as well. Though he rarely gets mixed up if somebody is talking in Japanese to him while somebody is talking in English and gives a mixed up word once in a while but he clears it up and goes on with his business. Mental and Emotional 1. How intelligent is this character? Is he book-smart or street-smart?  Hikaru is quite smart. His father wanted him to take many classes growing up: His mother made sure he did good in school and made sure he had the best tutors available to help him. 2. Does he think on his feet, or does he need time to deliberate?  He does both really depending on the situation. 3. Describe the character's thought process. Is he more logical, or more intuitive? Idealistic or practical?  Really its both...for example when it comes to his job, Hikaru is always logical. He doesn't want a mistake made because of a gut feeling. But when it comes to personal matters, he can be intuitive. He knows what he wants and doesn't want. He is more practical. 4. What kind of education has the character had?  Hikaru graduated early at fifteen. Then he went to college for the four years and also medical school for eight years. 5. What are his areas of expertise? What, if anything, is he interested in learning more about?  Medicine, martial arts, business, violin and etiquette. He wants to learn more ways of cooking as he is always intrigued when Aija is cooking something new. 6. Is he an introvert or an extrovert?  Introverted majority of the time, but Hikaru does love spending time with his friends when he can. 7. Describe the character's temperament. Is he even-tempered or does he have mood swings? Cheerful or melancholy? Laid-back or driven? At first glance, Hikaru looks like he always has a stick up his ass. He's very quiet and to himself especially at work. Aija finds out that it's because of his father and that before he came to America he was happy go lucky and fun. She is currently working on bringing that Hikaru back to the surface. 8. How does he respond to new people or situations? Is he suspicious, relaxed, timid, enthusiastic?  Hikaru can be very judgmental. Aija had has her share of him making wrong assumptions of her a couple of times. He doesn't always mean to be but since he is always in his head thinking, he really doesn't realize that he's thinking outwards toward the person as well. 9. Is he more likely to act, or to react?  Act. He does 10. Which is his default: fight or flight?  Hikaru will always try the peaceful route first; he knows that he can kick ass, but doesn't want to do so unless he really has to. 11. Describe the character's sense of humor. Does he appreciate jokes? Puns? Gallows humor? Bathroom humor? Pranks? Hikaru now has a witty kind of humor but back in the day when he was hanging with his friends, he was happy with all kinds of humor and was even quite the prankster. 12. Does the character have any diagnosable mental disorders? If yes, how does he deal with them?  No.  13. What moments in this character's life have defined him as a person?  His dad's lack of appearance made him more of a man at a earlier time. He was free to do as he wanted at first and during that time he was happy and friendly, but when his dad came back and told him to earn back the family honor by working with him in America it turned him into a stoic and cold man. 14. What does he fear?  Not ever having the freedom he wishes for. He wants to be his own person. 15. What are his hopes or aspirations?  To have his own medical office. To find a cure for cancer. 16. What is something he doesn't want anyone to find out about him?  That he pretty much was a delinquent back in Japan as a youth and almost brought dishonor on his family. Also that he was almost killed trying to save Briseis from Takumi's evil cousin and the Yakuzas.  Relationships 1. Describe this character's relationship with his parents.  Hikaru has a god awful relationship with his father, Ryutaro. Ryu was never around his family much when Hikaru was young, because he was so into his work and the family business instead of them. Because of that Hikaru never bonded much with him and the only reason he speaks with him at all is because he is trying not to dishonor his family more than he already has and only works with him because of that reason also. When they do speak to each other, it's forced and tense between the two. Hikaru has no problem tuning his dad out if he needs to and that ticks Ryu off more than anything. He expects Hikaru to respect him as if he's some kind of king and not his father. Hikaru's relationship with his mother is better though he's not lovey dovey with her. Chinatsu knows that Hikaru is hurting inside because of his father's disregard for him and so tries to spend a lot of time with him when she can. They go out and do things together and have talks. But he knows that his mother would do anything for his father so he distances himself from Chi at times too. 2. Does the character have any siblings? What is/was their relationship like?  Hikaru has a younger sister in college named Asami who is 7 years younger than he is. They have a really close relationship. So much so that when Asami came down to visit her family from school, she chose to stay in Hikaru's one bedroom condo instead of in the family house. They joke and talk a lot and he's very protective of her. 3. Are there other blood relatives to whom he is close? Are there ones he can't stand? He has a very close relationship as well with his grandfather, Ryunosuke who is dying of cancer. When Hikaru found out that his grandfather was dying, he changed his choice from being a pediatrician to an oncologist. Yuno was proud of all that Hikaru did in his life and when he found out that his father forced Hikaru to be here to work for the business and leave Aija, he told him to go with his heart and do what he wanted to do with his life. 4. Are there other, unrelated people whom he considers part of his family? What are his relationships with them?  Akane. He sees her as another sister. After having a slight crush on her, he decided that what he was really feeling was a sibling kind of feeling. 5. Who is/was the character's best friend? How did they meet?  Takumi is Hikaru's all time best friend. They practically grew up together and their families are close. They also went to music lessons together. Takumi learned piano while Hikaru learned violin and while Takumi took his music to the stage and Hikaru didn't, whenever they see each other they still make time to do a duet together. 6. Does he have other close friends?  Hikaru would easily give up one of his kidneys for Takumi's wife, Briseis. That's how close they are; she is his female best friend. He is also close to Sotaro. In America, he spends most of his guy time with Andrew. 7. Does he make friends easily, or does he have trouble getting along with people?  He makes friends though he needs time to get to know them first. It took him a while to get buddy buddy with Chris. 8. Which does he consider more important: family or friends?  Friends. He's not very close to his family. 9. Is the character single, married, divorced, widowed? Has he been married more than once?  He starts off single, being a playboy and going from girl to girl for his own sexual reasons. Then after meeting Aija he ends up being with her and even marries her later on. 10. Is he currently in a romantic relationship with someone other than a spouse?  Nope, even if he started out being a player, he would never see himself being disloyal to Aija 11. Who was his first crush? Who is his latest?  He had a crush on Akane first and even on Briseis at first, but he knew he wanted somebody of his own that was on Brie's level. 12. What does he look for in a romantic partner?  Somebody who takes care of herself well and doesn't need a lot of saving. A woman who can stand up for herself verbally and physically if needed. A woman who loves sex as much as he does. 13. Does the character have children? Grandchildren? If yes, how does he relate to them? If no, does he want any? Yes, he ends up having two daughters with Aija: Nariko and Natsuki. He's close to Nari but Suki is Daddy's baby girl. They are joined at the hip. Not at the point of him being a grandfather though yet. 14. Does he have any rivals or enemies?  Does his father count? 15. What is the character's sexual orientation? Where does he fall on the Kinsey scale?He is straight. 16. How does he feel about sex? How important is it to him?  Hikaru is a sex god. He loves everything that has to do with sex. In fact he would have sex with Aija every day if she'd let him. 17. What are his turn-ons? Turn-offs? Weird bedroom habits?  He loves being dominant; but mostly in sex. He doesn't like his socks on while having sex and even though he wold have sex with clothes on, prefers to be completely nude. Licking and sucking on toes is a no no for him. He's also not too thrilled with sucking on fingers being a doctor he likes to have his hands clean if that is supposed to happen. Beliefs 1. Do you know your character's astrological (zodiac of choice) sign? How well does he fit type? He is a Libra and rightfully so. His chinese zodiac is year of the Rat. There are certain thing in there that go with him but not all. 2. Is this character religious, spiritual, both, or neither? How important are these elements in his life? He is spiritual. Not so much religious like his mother is and they aren't really all that important to him. 3. Does this character have a personal code of morals or ethics? If so, how did that begin? What would it take to compromise it?  Treat his mother, his sister and his woman with respect; if not prepare to feel either a kick or a fist to the face. Don't mess with Takumi and Briseis...that's a beatdown. Don't mess with his dog either...that's also a beatdown. 4. How does he regard beliefs that differ from his? Is he tolerant, intolerant, curious, indifferent?  He believes everybody has the right to believe what they want. He is indifferent. 5. What prejudices does he hold? Are they irrational or does he have a good reason for them?  He holds no prejudices on anybody and doesn't believe he has a right to. Daily Life 1. What is the character's financial situation? Is he rich, poor, comfortable, in debt?  Nobody knows right away, but Hikaru is filthy rich. He is born into wealth because of the family business. However he has always wanted to be normal and so doesn't ever flaunt his money around in somebody's face. 2. What is his social status? Has this changed over time, and if so, how has the change affected him?  Hikaru is a definite upper class person. His family is famous in his area in Japan and he is always invited to different parties and events just for having the Mizuno name. It hasn't changed and even though he goes, he still tries to find ways to be normal. He doesn't want his family to define him as a man. 3. Where does he live? House, apartment, trailer? Is his home his castle or just a place to crash? What condition is it in? Does he share it with others? Hikaru lives in a condo. It's very immaculate and he tries to put a oriental flair in it as well. He lives by himself except his dog, Yume. He also let's his sister crash there from time to time. 4. Besides the basic necessities, what does he spend his money on?  Hikaru doesn't mind spending money on things. He has his own sports car, a private plane, and his own lavish home in Japan. He likes to eat out and do lavish things. However...he doesn't make his life all about it. He would also enjoy a evening at home as well, watching tv. 5. What does he do for a living? Is he good at it? Does he enjoy it, or would he rather be doing something else?  He is an oncologist. But he works also in his father's medical office as a manager so he gets rare cases when the other doctors need a consult. 6. What are his interests or hobbies? How does he spend his free time?  Practicing martial arts, playing violin, going to different places of the world, dining out, dancing, hanging with friends, playing sports, working out, studying medical cases.  7. What are his eating habits? Does he skip meals, eat out, drink alcohol, avoid certain foods?  He loves to eat out or eat in and prefers Japanese meals, but he will eat practically anything. He drinks alcohol but not in large amounts. He is a social drinker. He doesn't like eating a whole lot of sweets, but enjoys a few. He thinks it's amusing that Aija is the complete opposite and will eat and snack on candy all day. Associations Which of the following do you associate with the character, or which is his favorite: 1. Color? black 2. Smell? Ralph Lauren Romance 3. Time of day? Morning 4. Season? Autumn 5. Book? GQ 6. Music? Classical-violin 7. Place? Kyoto, Japan 8. Substance? Wood 9. Plant? Bonzai 10. Animal? Golden Retriever Played by in my vision: Daniel Henney

[pinksrs]

THE PINK SERIES, VOLUME 1/PROLOGUE

CW: Death.

If you’ve ever felt like The Universe is working against you, there may very well be a point to your paranoia. If you ever felt like something wasn't a coincidence, I’m sorry to tell you you may have a point.

I’d like to tell you that The Universe is a benevolent character. I'd like to tell you that It takes your thoughts and feelings into consideration. I wish it were the type of person that minds Its manners, holds open doors, says please and thank you, and cares.

But It isn’t, and It doesn’t.

The Universe is an asshole. It’s got a sick sense of humor. Why do you think you only run into your exes when you haven’t showered in three days? That touch of sick irony is the work of The Universe. It's idea of funny is pushing people in front of trains.

That’s not to say It’s concerned with you. You may actually be paranoid, I’m afraid (and there’s nothing I can do about that). The Universe isn’t responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened to you.

I'm sorry, but there's nobody to blame for their death.

You ought to consider yourself lucky.

When The Universe takes interest in something, it’s never pretty. It wreaks havoc, in the form of relentless circumstances we call coincidence.

Coincidence is easier to grasp than fate.

It’s easier to dismiss, too.

It should serve as some sort of comfort, though, to know that The Universe isn’t interested in you. No, you’re not on Its list of pet projects. There’s no ant farm with your name on it that the Universe picks up and shakes until your world is in shambles.

There is an ant farm labeled Duffy, though.

Boy, if you think you’ve got it bad… The Universe has really got it out for this lot.

It’s been watching them for years. In all actuality, in the long run, relative to The Universe, twenty one years is the blink of an eye. But as it so happens, The Universe isn’t the most patient of natural forces.

On the contrary, The Universe is quite childish despite being eons old. As ancient as It is, It’s still prone to temper tantrums when it doesn’t get Its way.

Rain streaked streets breathe in the night air. Steam floods the pavement and mingles with the midnight mist of the city by the bay, like condensation on one's breath. Rain in San Francisco – how original.

But in defense of The Universe, creativity’s dead. Believe it or not, It’s not actually responsible for the weather.

The rain sets the streets aglow, with fluorescent neon signs bleeding onto wet streets. Grease-stained asphalt has a kiss of color in the dark by headlights. Signs for 24/7 pharmacies, cannabis dispensaries, and burnt-out bulbs of street lamps blink. The city is alive as it ever has been.

San Francisco is advancing fast into the twenty first century. It’s not the same little town by the ocean with the fog and the trolleys anymore. It’s louder. bolder, more mature, with less fear of falling into the sea.

To the other billions of people on the planet, it’s any other night, but to one Englishman, it’s the end of the world. The Universe has been watching him the past few years, like a television show that’s always running. It only tunes in when there's nothing better to watch.

The Universe has tuned in at the perfect time.

The apartment is cramped and perched on the corner of the building. It's so close to the traffic stop outside that light dances through the window. The lights are bright enough to cast a sickly glow about the room. It cycles through crimson, emerald and gold. Each is as bad as the next. The menacing glow of red is no better or worse than the yellow light seeping across the skin like jaundice.

If he weren’t so used to them, they’d be a nuisance, but Edgar Duffy isn’t one to dwell on things he can’t change. He doesn’t dwell much of anything, actually. As boys go, he’s nothing special. He’s not the most handsome, nor tall, nor smart. But he's handsome enough, tall enough, smart enough.

He was enough, but never too much.

As of eighteen seconds ago, it was his birthday. So far, being nineteen doesn’t feel much different than being eighteen.

For a moment there, he thought it might. He thought things might be different, for once. His hopes had been too high to think a birthday with his brother could go any other way. Couldn’t they go one year without lapsing into their pattern of clenched jaws and grit teeth?

As brothers go, Edgar and Ivan Duffy aren’t the type you write home about. They’re more the type you write about in passive-aggressive posts on social media. They're the type to give thoughtless gifts to each other, bought last minute at the corner store. Takeout from the place he hates is paired with a cheap bottle of wine, and a store-bought cake.

If Ivan paid more attention to his brother, he might have a clue about what Edgar likes. The gesture is impersonal and empty. Neither of them have fooled themselves into thinking it’s anything but.

They made attempts at talking, all feeble and failed. Edgar and Ivan found that they had little more to bond over these days than schoolwork.

It's obvious that neither of them want to live together.

Edgar stares ahead at the half-full takeout box on the table, heavy brow set into a furrow. All these empty gestures are the sort of thing he’s learned not to dwell on. Instead, he's taught himself to accept this as one of the innumerable things in his life he cannot change. They were fixed and factual things he had to accept. That, or let it destroy him.

Like bad birthdays, filled with lazy attempts at siblinghood. That, and compulsory, celebratory dinners with Ivan. After nineteen years, it’s finally sunk in – some things don’t want to change.

His lips purse into a line, and at long last the words sitting on Edgar's tongue for the last hour spill out:

“You should go.”

The pair of them serve as a harsh contrast to one another. Where Ivan is a fan of black and leather, Edgar prefers tartan and denim. Where Ivan prefers chocolate, Edgar would rather have vanilla.

By no means is Edgar tall, but he towers over his older brother. Depending on whom you ask, he’s the better looking of the two, too. His features fit his face, unlike Ivan, whose ears stick out too far and whose brow hangs too heavy. Wide eyes sit deep in sunken sockets, with lips bowed into a permanent pout. The look is complete with ill-aligned teeth and rodential overbite.

The older Duffy looks a bit pathetic slouching beside his brother. Edgar’s perfect posture, mane of chestnut hair, and green eyes was a startling difference. He made Ivan’s swampy, dark eyes and thicket of black curls look like sickly mange.  It didn't help that Ivan had haphazardly shaved the sides of his head.

While the relation is undeniable, it’s not willing.

Not on Ivan’s part, at least– not if he can help it. Ever since Edgar ripped his way out of their mother, Ivan made it his life’s work to separate himself.

Ivan may be two years older, but he’s not acting it. Sipping wine out of a red plastic cup doesn’t help his case in the slightest. “Go? You can’t kick me out of my own flat.” For whatever reason, his accent’s harsher than his brothers, thicker and far more clumsy on the tongue. It could be the wine staining his lips purple, but Edgar’s always suspected it’s for show. "It's your birthday."

“I don’t want you here ‘cause you’re supposed to be here,” he begins, blundering on forward. Quick! Before he can lose momentum. Edgar’s never been one for boldness. “I want you here ‘cause you wanna be here, not ‘cause you’re supposed to. You can go if you want– don’t force yourself to stay here on my account." Edgar's hands fly into the air. "‘Sides, you’ve got plans, haven’t you? You only wanted to do it tonight so you could get it out of the way and blow me off tomorrow.” His tongue clicks against his teeth as he sits forward, grabbing for his cup to wash the taste of salt out of his mouth. “Right?”

Like a deer in the headlights, Ivan rubs a hand at his jaw and looks about the room. He'll try anything if it’ll buy him time,  if it will spare him having to deal with this. Oh, he’d really rather not. “I mean,” Ivan heaves a sigh. “G wanted to do something… It’s our first anniversary, y’know–”

There wasn’t a nerd alive with a bigger heart and more criticism in his veins than the likes of G Cooper. A year later, Ivan was still there. It wasn’t like it was serious, only comfortable and convenient, lazy and warm. A year, no doubt, is a bigger deal to G than it is to Ivan. As he tends to do, Ivan fails to realize exactly how big of a deal.

Edgar is quick to steer him back onto the path. He had decided early on that he didn’t like G. Something about him never sat right. “Don’t change the subject, Ivan. Don’t drag him into this.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow with a look towards Edgar, mouth taut. Can you blame him for trying?

“Am I right or not?”

“Well–”

“Ivan.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right…”

“I can’t believe–” Edgar pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut to taper off a glare. “Y’know what? Yeah, actually, I can believe it, that’s the sad part. Do you have any idea what an asshole you are?”

It’s the brashness and the source, that causes the wine to catch in Ivan’s throat. Sputtering, he manages to swallow, wiping away any drops on the back of a black sleeve. It’s not like he hasn’t been called an asshole before, but hearing it from the likes of little Eddy was obscene. They had their problems, but Edgar was a quiet kid that kept his opinions to himself. “There’ll be other birthdays, Edgar. What’s the big deal–”

“You’re going to do it on other birthdays, too! You’ve done it before, you’re doing it now, you’ll do it again. So,” Edgar scoffs, getting to his feet. “Stop forcing it; stop punishing me, Ivy.”

Ivy isn’t a name Ivan’s heard come out of Edgar’s mouth in years. He can’t help but think it seems exceptionally childish this time around. Desperate, even. It’s a subtle, passive aggressive jab. “Punishing you for what?” He may be petite, but somehow Ivan’s managing to make himself even smaller as he slouches into the sofa.

Edgar stops to flash his brother a look, his arms loaded with bowls, chopsticks, and takeout boxes. He gives a wag of his head, brown hair tossing. “You know what. When are you gonna stop blaming me and let it go?”

Now, it seems, Edgar’s hit a button. Ivan clambers to his feet, fighting gravity and a hungry sofa. “You let it go– I’ll blame you as much as I want, screw you.” Always quick to act, this one. Ivan’s never been good at getting a grip on his emotions, especially not where family’s concerned.

“She was my mum too–”

“Fuck off, she was not– you don’t get to say that.” Pint-sized fists clench at Ivan’s side. He stands his ground, as Edgar goes about his business.

His brother is calm by comparison, picking up the mess they made. Soon, it’s all piled into the garbage, except for the birthday card. “You can go now.”

There’s anger welling in Ivan’s chest, ready to boil over. Is he going to scream, or cry? Neither of them can tell. A moment passes before he realizes he’s holding his breath, like he used to do when he was a child. (He'd kill himself if their father didn’t come home that second.) “You asshole...” But Ivan trails off, eyes squeezing shut.

No, he won’t cry.

Ivan swallows down the lump in his throat as he grabs everything he can. He hastily shoves his phone into a pocket, wallet already safe in his jacket. There are more things he needs, but in his frenzy, Ivan can’t bother to remember them. All he can think to do is throw his arms out and shriek. “Fuck you, Edgar!”

Edgar may be calm, and far less dramatic than Ivan, but he feels himself bordering on hysterics. If he had it in him, he might fight to keep his brother there, but he doesn’t. They’ll put up an argument another day, but he’s tired, and his shoulders feel heavy. Can’t they table it? “Just go see G, Ivy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? I’m tired– you’re drunk, anyway.”

“I’m not drunk,” Ivan snaps, but he's clumsy as he pushes his way past Edgar and to the door. He leans his weight into the wall for support. “But whatever, you’re right, I don’t want to be here. It’s sick– she died and you’re making me celebrate it. It’s not fucking fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Ivan.”

“You’re right, Edgar. Life’s a bitch, then you’re fucking dead.”

The door flies open and slams shut behind him. Ivan storms into the hall, barreling down a single flight of stairs. There’s an elevator, but he doesn’t have the patience to wait. Stomping down the stairs and out the building feels right. Bursting into the night air, Ivan finds that the rain has let up.

The fog is heavier than ever, swirling at his feet and leaving steamy breath to fall from his lips. Black hood up, hands shoved into pockets, and he marches.

Where? In no time, he finds that he’s left his cigarettes and lighter at home, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back now. It calls for a quick stop at the liquor store for a pack of cigarettes and the first lighter his hand finds. Then, he let the wandering begin.

G's apartment was the destination, eventually, but for now he’s aimless. He keeps his eyes ahead and focuses on nothing more than  the pavement under his boots and the wind on his face. The wind has Ivan pulling his hood back up to right it again, securing it over the tangle of curls. He feels raw without it, and far too vulnerable for comfort.

He’s always been like this. Ivan was stubborn, flighty, and keen on running away whenever the pressure got to be a little too much. He could be a diamond under all that pressure, but he fights to fly and avoid every problem. Ivan does it almost as diligently as he avoids having to spend time with Edgar.

They could get along if he’d let them; Edgar’s the sort to get along with anybody.

After nineteen years, keeping his brother at arms length has worked for him. That, and everyone else he knew.

But what of the rest of it?

The sniff is audible, wet, and sloppy as he tries to clear his sinuses of signs of distress. Sleeve balled over his fist, Ivan scrubs away at his eyes to wash away tears. He fights back the urge to throw himself onto the pavement and sob. That’s ridiculous and dramatic, and the sort of thing best saved for the bathroom floor. The shower running and the music blaring would drown him out and keep Edgar from listening. The walls of their apartment leave nothing to the imagination.

Edgar was right about one thing.

He is drunk, Ivan admits to himself when he stops to lean heavy into a brick wall, looking down the length of the alley.

This isn’t familiar territory, and if Ivan were smarter, he’d be more wary of dark alleys on darker nights.

If he were sober, he'd pay attention.

If he were smarter, or sober, he’d have noticed the soft sound of boots falling against wet pavement. Something is stalking and creeping, with lips curved into a sneer.

A predator lurks, ready to snap.

Ivan pushes himself from the wall to right himself, swaying when he stands. The hood slips back over his head and falls down. Eyes shut in time for hot tears to boil over. It doesn’t count if they never reach his cheeks. Still, he’s not stopping them or wiping them away.

Not until the sound of gravel underfoot catches his attention. He rounds on his heel to turn and face whatever is in the alley with him. In a whirl of fog and alcoholic haze, of loose curls and tears in his eyes, Ivan can hardly make anything out, save for a looming figure.

Before he can process a single thing, everything gets cut by the flick of a wrist, a tug, a scream, and the last desperate whimpers of a heart still kicking.

[ofblazefire]

PSA || Need help!

{Hello everyone! As some of you know, I’m in some real need for help. I am sorry about this being a long ass post but I will do my best to shorten it with read more, but please please read this if you can help donate, or even reblog this. I am in serious need of help. To make it simple here, I am in need of money to get out of a horrible living situation. I typed up what it’s like in my current living situation but it’s hard for me to type it all because that’s how awful it is and I want to forget it as soon as possible. I’m already even crying about it. But basically, I need help with money so I can get out of here and go to my new home and get the help I absolutely need! The info for donating is at the end of the post. Please help!}

Edit: I should’ve done this before but since I haven’t got donations yet I took out the email for my paypal and replaced it with a paypal pool! It shows how much I exactly need and how much I got so far. Please help!!!}

You see, I am currently in a terrible living situation. I’m 24, can’t drive (due to not having a driver’s license due to my family never teaching me to drive and getting mad at me about it later), flat broke (my back account only has ONE DOLLAR in it so that pretty much explains how broke I am), suffering from anxiety and depression that I need HELP for but cannot afford or even get a ride to any doctors that can help me, etc. I am stuck living with my father, earlier this year I was my mom’s caretaker (I was in between jobs and decided to care for her while she suffered from a heart attack and heart failure) but in April she died and it took it’s toll on me. My mother and I were somewhat close (had bad moments the most but she was the only one who shows love to me) and my depression hit me hard, to even explain how bad it was.... I would’ve killed myself but I tried to do that last year in October and scared myself shitless by it, never wanting to harm myself again. Instead I bottled my feelings which only made it worse. Keep in mind, I had two lovely cats that were helping me through my grief but a week after my mom died, my dad put my oldest cat down (we were planning to do this anyways due to her having bad tumors) and he took my pride and joy cat ( a ragdoll mix that I adored more than life itself) and gave her to a humane society. I felt absolutely broken after that. After that, life was getting worse for me. My dad is a cheap asshole who gets mad if I say I need something, especially if it means going to a doctor for some medical issues or anything. Basically, I gave up my medications. No medication for my mental illnesses and I felt ashamed if I need to go to a doctor for anything (had to go to a doctor three times for infections and my dad was pissed about the bills for it). So as you can see, I had to deal with my anxiety, depression, everything else on my own because I feared I would be yelled at or even threatened if I needed something, even if its personal hygiene products. You may be asking “Why do you fear being yelled at about such things?” Well, my dad has anger issues, to which he believes he doesn’t need anger management. A good example for this is a couple of days ago he was getting angry at his phone and went onto his laptop, yelling and cursing at it because it was slow and needed an update from windows. He was hitting the laptop and yelling so angerly that I was starting to fear for my life. When he gets mad, he gets insanely mad. He is the kind of person that if someone so much as looks at him wrong he could snap and maybe kill them. That’s why I fear for my life here. Ever since he got a girlfriend his actions have gotten worse, as if the girlfriend is encouraging him to do such things. I’ve been verbally and mentally abused by both my mother (when she was alive) and my father before, and now my father is doing it worse to me. Living with both my father and his girlfriend is getting much worse, they are doing things that show they don’t want me here. Let’s just say they are making me depression and anxiety much worse to the point that I may become suicidal again when I desperately never want to harm myself again. It may not seem like the whole living situation isn’t that bad but I have suffered from mental and verbal abuse pretty much since I was a kid. Now that I’m an adult who is still suffering from the abuse and can’t get away from it on my own I can barely function as an adult. My only way out is to run away and I need help for this, especially since my destination is another state. I need help, seriously. I feel like if I cannot leave here, I fear my dad will harm me or even kill me if I accidentally piss him off or I will give in and take my own life from suffering so much. I fear for my life, helping me get out of here will be a life saver and I will be so thankful to you all.

For those who read about my situation, thank you. Here I will let you all know about what help I need.  As most of you read, I am jobless, broke, and cannot drive. So for this I need money for ubers, buses, maybe even a train if I can find one. Also, the money goal I have will cover over suitcases and a throw away phone I will need. I do not have suitcases anymore, a mouse destroyed my old one and as for the phone, my current phone I will be leaving behind because it’s not in my name and I don’t want to “steal” it, especially if my dad finds out I’m gone and cancels the cell phone.

The goal I have in mind is $700. Again, this covers the suitcase, throw away/prepaid phone, ubers, buses, trains, in case something goes wrong, and of course after arriving at my destination I can get things like soap, shampoo, and other things I may need. I need as much help as I can get and again I will be so thankful to you guys helping out by donating and/or reblogging this to show to others who can donate. All the money I swear will only be used to get me out of my hellhole of a living situation. Any extra money that I have from this after moving will be saved just in case something goes wrong until I can get a job.

Again, the goal is $700 dollars and here is the link to the paypal pool!

https://paypal.me/pools/c/89KZL9HciB

Please, help. I never asked others for help like this becasue I never thought I was good enough or thought my situation wasn’t that bad enough thanks to my depression but I have nowhere else to turn! If you need anymore information then please message me! My inbox and IMs are always open! I just updated this post with the paypal pool!

[onebatch2batch]

1/2 post punisher s1 prompt: frank is at a bar after a long day of work and when a pretty woman starts flirting with him, he just respectfully answers all of her questions and then she asks him something like: "are you taken or not into me at all? " and he surprises himself with how fast he replies with a "taken" and with how fast he had a gorgeous blue eyed blonde in his mind,

2/2 and just like that he realizes he’s so fucked up because he’s in love with freaking karen page and how he just realized it on a bar when a woman was flirting with him instead of all the times he risked his life for her.

@frank-castle-loves-karen-page I hope I did this justice!!! Thank you for such an awesome prompt!! As always, thank you Bree ( @frankcastlestanktop for being my amazing and patient beta reader xo)

Frank knows, deep down, that women find him attractive. He doesn’t particularly know why they do, with his big ears and crooked nose, but they do. He’s no stranger to flirting waitresses and furtive glances in the grocery store. Even with his practiced beanie-hoodie combo, women seem to gravitate towards him. It’s something he may have appreciated years ago–before he became a father, and then a soldier, and then a widower. Before the world turned its back on him. These days, he keeps to himself and tries his hardest to look off-putting.

So when he realizes the woman across the bar has been giving him bedroom eyes for the last several minutes, he keeps his gaze on his beer.

It’s been a hellish week to cap off a hellish month. Not that his life hasn’t been hellish for a good amount of time, but this is a new kind of hell. This is reintegrating into society. His bruises have faded, his stitches have nearly healed, and he’s stepped into the role of Pete Castiglione once again. He goes to work, stows his guns away, and practices being normal again. Boring, miserable, too much time to think normal. There was a time where he would have killed for normal; now it fits like a cheap suit.  

Frank runs a hand through his hair and makes a face at the length. Karen’s words echo in his mind–I know you hate it, but I think the curls are charming.

Charming, he scoffs inwardly, but a smile pulls  at his lips. It was  one word he would have never used to describe himself. When she used it he’d been too blindsided by the compliment to respond. Charming describes white knights in fairy tales, or slick-suited men trying to get their way. But Frank Castle: charming? Not so much. Although when Karen says it, it doesn’t sound as wrong. Most things she says to him sound right.

“Hey there,” comes a voice to his right, breaking his thought.

Frank glances over, and is face to face with the woman from across the bar. Up close, he sees the slight sparkle on her cheekbones and the smokey color on her eyelids. She’s holding a near-empty martini glass. Frank keeps his eyes level, despite the suggestively low neckline in his peripheral vision. She’s pretty, even beautiful by some standards. By the way she’s smiling, he can tell she hopes he’d think so, too.

“Hey,” he says, expression betraying nothing.

“Mind if I sit?” She asks, casually flipping her long dark hair falling over one shoulder.

Frank nods to the seat beside him and returns to his beer. He’s not afraid she’ll realize who he is; it’s been three months since Frank Castle died and Pete Castiglione’s beard is an exceptionally good disguise. Despite that, tension crawls up his spine and his senses sharpen; searching for danger, for the trap. It’s not very often he makes conversation with strangers beyond exchanges at checkout counters and coffee shops. In Josie’s bar, his usual hangout, folks mind their business. This bar, down the street from his place, is a little more upscale. The clientele are a little more refined, and the beer a little less watered down. He should have prepared for a more determined class of women, too.

“Name’s Jane,” she presses when he remains silent. “Want to buy me a drink?”

He thinks about telling her no, just for a moment. He almost does. There’s no point in leading on a woman like her, who is sure to strike up a long conversation that would dead-end, because it would all be based on half-truths and secrets. When he looks over to dismiss her, there’s a sharpness in her eyes – a little bit of fire that reminds him, painfully, of Karen. He finds himself nodding before he can help it.

When a fresh martini is deposited before her, Jane crosses her legs and leans closer. “So what’s your name, handsome?”

Frank takes a sip of his beer, looks forward. “Pete.”

“You here alone, Pete?” She asks, amused.

Tryin’ to be, he thinks, sliding his eyes back to her. “Yep.”

Her delicate nails, sharpened and polished deep scarlet, tap against the bar. She surveys him, head tilted. “So what’s the deal? You’ve been turning women away all night–you not interested? Taken?”

Unbidden, his mind defines what taken means: blue eyes. Blond hair. A beauty mark lifting over a wide, happy smile.

“Taken.”

The word escapes his mouth faster than he can catch it. There’s a brief pause as his chest gets a little tighter, his head feels a little lighter. The word ricochetes in his skull– taken– as he tries to regain control over his expression. He can feel the surprise on his face. Jane looks at him with open curiosity.

“Looks like you just figured that out,” she huffs. “Want to talk about it with a stranger?”

“I gotta go,” he mutters, throwing some cash on the bar. He shrugs on his jacket and finishes off his beer, trying to ignore the panic settling like a stone in his gut.

“Yikes,” she says. Her tone is pitying. “Good luck. Sounds like you need to have a conversation with someone.”

Frank grunts as an answer and  strides to the door. Outside, he takes three deep breaths. The air is freezing. It’s not quite snowing yet, but he can smell the clean, fresh scent of it on the horizon. He starts down the sidewalk and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Taken.

Frank frowns, turning the lapels of his coat against the chill. He’s known, almost since the moment he met her, that Karen Page was important. First, she was important in remembering his family. Then, she was important to his trial. But somewhere along the line, she became important to him. She became his ally, his fiery support system, his accomplice. She became family. Frank never thought he would have anyone to call family again; not after losing Maria and the kids.  

He thinks back to the first time he risked himself for her. Was it with the Blacksmith? He remembers realizing she was trapped with the very same person who orchestrated his family’s deaths. He remembers the surge of fury–and protectiveness–that followed. The plan to rescue her and get rid of Schoonover once and for all nearly made him ill; when his truck crashed into her car and he saw the blood dripping down her temple, he was shocked by the regret that followed. It had almost been enough for him to abandon the plan altogether.

No, he realizes, it was in her apartment. When he had walked through the door and found himself staring in admiration down the barrel of her .305. When he heard the gunfire and covered her body with his own. The instincts to protect and save were strong. Her trembling body under his own was a reminder that there was still good in him–still something worth fighting for.

Frank turns a corner, hardly registers where his feet are taking him. He pictures another achingly cold night, months ago. Standing high above the sidewalk, rifle in hand, coat billowing in the wind. He remembers turning to leave and catching sight of the crowd gathering below as Red bowed over a woman not far away. Frank looked down and saw Karen Page, eyes wide and trained directly on him. Her lips had formed his name–angry and terrified and amazed all at once.

He thinks about the day he re-entered into her life, despite his reluctance to get her involved. His desperation for answers. He remembers the look on her face when she accepted his flowers. The excitement, the pure joy… the embarrassment as she pushed her hair back behind her ears. He also remembers the moment her expression had fallen, just enough for him to catch it, when she realized it hadn’t been a gift but a half-assed method of communication. What he couldn’t tell her then (because he was too chicken shit, he admits) that giving her his burner phone number put her in more danger than he could stomach.

Frank recognizes that there’s never been a moment where they could just be. He’s been on the move or in hiding for so long. He’s been cataloging each one of her smiles; stowing them away to analyze later. There’s no time for love, or family, or friendship, on the battlefield that had become his life. He remembers, for the hundredth time, lying beside her as Lewis’ remains coated the walls of the hotel refrigerator. The hot smell of blood and smoke in the air. The sound of her soft gasp over the buzzing in his ears. Her hand coming to rest on his chest, searching for him even as she fought for consciousness.

Frank thinks of her in that fucking elevator, her hands grasping his arms. Her forehead pressed to his, her lips a breath and a nod away. That moment of frozen time where he had thought things he had no right to think. He’d been so, so tired. And then her hand, pushing him away. Telling him, go. Go on.

Then, the terror of leaving her to clean up his mess. Why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Why had it taken a stranger in a bar for him to realize he was taken by Karen? He’d taken bullets for her, he’d put his life and his anonymity on the line for her.

Frank feels something cold touch his nose. He looks up. It’s snowing and he’s standing in front of Karen’s apartment building.

He sighs and turns to leave; even with these feelings he has for her (because that’s what this is, right?) he’s got no business putting his shit on her. She should have a normal life. She should meet someone that’s not living under a fake name. Someone with a lot less blood on their hands. He glances up towards her window and stops short when he sees it.

Fresh white roses in the window. The light is on.

He rings the buzzer.

*TAGGED:

@kastleandcoffee @emanationman @frank-castle-loves-karen-page @babsiechap @darknesseyez @frankcastiglione @tuntematonkorppi @ohmypreciousgirl @killorbekillcd @nina2406 @iamacolor @princesshaleyeve @orangesickle @jonberntal

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 12

‘That might be likely…’

Veno pings and highlights outside, then mutters.

‘You were experimenting with your new skill, did you not?’

Ah, right. How I slew that rat.

‘You had released all that poison on the monster trail. It is possible that something or someone walked into it and succumbed to it.’

That’s ridiculous… How do people even earn experience points in this world?

‘With some exceptions, the quintessence of the defeated cannot be earned if one is too far away…’

As our discussion goes on, the rowdiness outside dies down. I stand stealthily by the window side and peer out. On display outside of the inn was the corpse of the Rose Grey Swordhorn I saw before I went to bed. It’s become a spectacle and there are quite some people surrounding it. Some adventurers are tipping and throwing money in. Moreover, there seems to be merchants discussing some kind of trade.

“It seemed like it’s been weakened, so we decided to capture it alive. We’ve done alright, hey?” “Thank you so much for tonight!” “Casualties were minimal too.” “We’d be rich if this happened all the time!”

The adventurer who captured the Rose Grey Swordhorn brought it to the merchant who seems to be the requester. No way, don’t tell me…

‘… that is what it seems like. It would be a safe to believe that the Rose Grey Swordhorn was weakened by the poison you threw down.’

It’d make sense that I leveled up so much. But even then, is the concentrated swamp toxin really that powerful?

‘Do not make light of poison. Furthermore, Rose Grey Swordhorns are not monsters from the swamp and they have not resistance against it. The poison must have circulated in its system, weakening it, and then the adventurers captured it.’

I don’t know whether to consider myself lucky or not. Well, seeing how I doused the monster’s path with poison, it’s quite likely that it was afflicted by an abnormal status. How does everything seem to work out for me? That, in turn, makes me even more anxious.

‘Consider it an unexpected godsend. By the way, shall we snatch the corpse of the Rose Grey Swordhorn before they cut it up?’

Give me a break. They’re obviously going to go crazy looking for whoever stole it!

‘Aye… In my prime, I would not bat an eye, but it is dangerous to do so now. Not only are we in hiding, it is also not something with which we should get involved. Forgive my mistake.’

Why did you even suggest doing it?

‘Aye. It seemed like as if they were to dress the monster and sell the meat. Since it was poisoned by you, I was merely wondering if it would be fit for weaker humans to feed upon.’

Gah! Wouldn’t that be disastrous? It’d be no joke if I were to wipe out the entire village in a night.

‘Hence that is why I suggested to snatch the corpse… Oh, the village apothecary noticed the meat has been tainted and is preparing some sort of agent to neutralize it.  That girl is coming over here.’

Arleaf is? Maybe I should play it cool and go say hi to her. What should I do? … I’d look pretty suspicious if I did that. Like, she found me unfazed by both the poisonous swamp and the miasma. If I appeared in front of a powerful monster that had been poisoned, it’d stand out way too much. It would probably be better if I said I was fast asleep and didn’t know a thing about it. Just to be safe.

‘After all, we are being hunted. That girl had been so kind to us. We should not get her involved in this and bring her any more trouble. You should understand better than anyone.’

I can’t say I really feel the same too, but I know you’re right. Well, we gotta do every little bit to raise our chances of survival… That’s how we get to live another day. With that, I stole some of the adventurers’ experience points and went back to sleep.

The next morning, after a good amount of sleep, I wake up feeling ready to take on the world. … I’d like to believe that it isn’t because I soaked in so much poison yesterday. I set off from the inn for breakfast… is it going to be tough steak and vegetable scraps soup again? I don’t know if I even have a choice. Can’t my meals rank up just a little bit?

“You gon’ be stayin’ here today too?” “Uhh, yes, tonight too, please.” “You got it.”

I hand over the money to stay another night. It really helps me that it’s cheap, but how much longer will I have the money to stay here?

“Oh, there’s a cold spreadin’ around these parts lately, so you best take care of yourself, Cohgray.” “Understood, ma’am.”

A cold, eh? … don’t wanna catch one of those. I’ll be extra careful.

‘I could make you a vaccine. Though I am interested in whether you will catch a cold or not.’

How dare you treat me like a guinea pig?! Ah, whatever… the plan today is to advance my class at the dungeon. When I was a student, I gamed quite a bit. I had even played quite a few tabletop RPGs and MMOs. So, to find out that I can actually change and advance jobs, it really widens my horizons.

‘Aye… it is like recreation of your parallel world. Tabletop… hmm. After this ordeal is over, it might not be so bad to try my hand at it too.’

Veno mutters to himself after peering into my memories. I’d love for him to stop spying on my memories so much.

‘I am just bored.’

Yeah, sure.

‘Speaking of which, I have almost finished processing the pelt of the Midnight Blue Wolf that you had defeated yesterday. I have yet to properly tan it, but after that, you should have a product to sell. It might also be a good idea to fashion it into a bag for you to use.’

He’s sure accomplished lots in the meantime. You’re bored even after such a challenging activity?

‘It is hard living as a dragon without knowing a few ways to kill time.’

He said that with what seems to be smugness. That’s fine. However… Veno, you ate all of the meat from the Midnight Blue Wolf, right? You didn’t gnaw on the leather too because of your oral fixation, did you?

‘Would you not stop treating me with such disdain!’

Seems like I hit the bull’s-eye on that one. Is the Midnight Blue Wolf pelt really alright being soaked in your spit?

‘You… perchance, you know not of the procedures of processing pelt? No, judging by your knowledge, it seems like you believe that pelt is instantly transformed into fur or leather just by stripping it off the flesh.’

Huh, you mean it isn’t? Well, all the experience I’ve had of processing pelt is anything that was in a game, so there would be quite a high chance that I’m wrong.

‘Is it not obvious that you are incorrect? First, strip the skin off the flesh and thoroughly clean it. Since poison has a sterilization effect, I mixed some water from the swamp with marphina and applied it to the skin. I then consume the meat left on the skin and dry the skin out.’

I can only imagine Veno sucking the moisture out from the skin with his mouth.

‘Then, after moderately drying it out, I apply a mixture of swamp toxin and rock salt to the skin. It is imperative to take some time so that the ingredients get familiar with the pelt. Currently, I am at this stage.’

I feel as if he’s a pro at this complicated process, but even then, it seems like it is a lot of work to make some fur or hide. Even though it’s completely automated for me, it’s quite the bother for Veno.

‘If we supply ourselves with some tools or drugs, I shall be able to create an even finer final product. It would not hurt to keep it in mind.’

Even if you put it that way… But anyway, if you use all that poison to treat the skin, won’t there be any ill effects on the person equipping it?

‘It shall be fine as long as we store some well water with storage magic so that we can clean the skin.’

Is that true? Veno’s lecture of hide tanning distracted us from our original train of thought. After all that, we arrive at the town hall to find adventurers sporadically gathering here. As I thought, the request postings refresh everyday in the morning.

Now then, is there nothing that I can do to earn some money while avoiding the lot from the who are chasing us? It would make sense to look at requests I can fulfill while I’m on my way to or at the swamp. Does Arleaf take requests from here too? While that thought is in my head, I looked for Arleaf… but she is nowhere to be seen. Well, that’s okay… I’m sure I’ll get to see her somewhere or other.

I accept a request for poisonous herbs. Not medicinal herbs, mind you, but poisonous ones. That’s kinda sad somehow. Since in a game, they’d start you off with a gathering quest for the safer herbs. Nevertheless, if I know what I’m looking for, I’m sure I’ll complete it in no time. That, and they specified an amount this time…

‘I am still able to hold a lot more with my storage magic. We should gather all that we can, so it would be easier for us in the future.’

Well, as long as we can use them all before they go bad, it wouldn’t hurt to do so. Our objective for the day is to advance my class… I’m at the stage where I should learn more about my surroundings and some common knowledge of this world. Since I have a clear picture of my goal, I walked towards the swamp of poison, just as I did yesterday.

It was easier getting here today than yesterday. Not only do I already have three times the experience I had, just as importantly, I’ve also familiarized myself with the way there. I encountered the same vines, mosquitos, and beetles, but they are no match for me anymore. My sword feels lighter and the enemies seem weaker. Maybe it’s because I’ve simply levelled up. That’s what they call experience, huh?

I quickly arrived at the swamp of poison, and Midnight Blue Wolves… are not around? If there were, though, I could always show them how I fight—escaping to the swamp. And moreover, I’ll blast them with poison stronger than what I could make last time.

It’s just that, well… thanks to my Poison Absorption, the swamp is as comfortable as flowing hot springs. I’ll just pop in for a quick bath before I go home today too. I’m self-aware that I’m really testing my luck with this parallel world, but it’s not like I’m doing anything immoral.

‘Indeed… you can replenish your reserves of swamp toxin as well. You are not doing anything unscrupulous.’

While picking anything that might be useful, I make my way to the dungeon, the one that I went to with Arleaf yesterday. I find the dank, musty room I was looking for. I check out the dilapidated stone altar in here. Hmm? There’s some kind of symbol or statue made of stone that’s been smashed. Is it just me or does it kinda look like a dragon?

‘Either way it may be, I am not sure.’

I thought it’d be a statue of Mother Mary or something like that.

‘There are those who place religious symbols like that as well. Such is the difference between different sects of the church.’

Incidentally, which denomination do the guys who are chasing you belong to?

‘They are of the Teachings of the Sacred Yggdrasil… it is a faith that originates from a tree that a gang of elves worshipped. It was a joint task force between that and the Church of Saint Oevarl. That country has two concurrent religions in play.’

The Teachings of the Sacred Yggdrasil, huh? Hmm… there too are world trees in the world? How fantastical.

‘Heh… there is naught left but pitiable remains of what the elves have exploited.’

Is it just my imagination or does it seem like Veno is ridiculing them?

‘It might seem that way because I am. Elves are the picture of haughtiness. They hogged the blessings of the forest while they ostracized the other races.’

From what I’ve read in the classics, that’s certainly how they’re portrayed as. Moreover, it’s the translation of “elves” that Veno is talking about, so they’re not even the elves of fiction from Earth. So that’s how the elves of this world are.

‘Aye. While they sing their songs with the forest, they monopolized the blessings of the world tree. As they anticipated the end of the world tree, they shifted the responsibility to the future generation and wrested power from the sapling. In the end, the world tree withered, and they lost their home. For that, they blamed other races and instigated wars. That is how things ended up how they are currently. They truly are a foolish people.’

What the hell? A religion like that survives ‘til today?

‘A small fraction of them took tender care of the sapling that narrowly survived. The remnants of that tribe live amongst humans. They grandly spread their religion so that they may survive another day.’

Ah, so the righteous bunch healed the tree, and this is where we are now. I’d glad that there are people who aren’t complete garbage in this universe.

‘… it would have been fine to just wipe out this world.’

Since they’re the guys who are after us, Veno doesn’t hold back. But because they’re also coming after my head as if it’s fair, they can’t be a good bunch either. I’m sure there’s all kinds of people though.

‘It matters not whichever it may be. What matters now is having them let us use their religious symbol.’

Well, you’ve got a point. It’s not like I care much about their personal history.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support Average Translations)