#like nobody is being stupid they just have incomplete pictures of whats going on

[new-haven-psych-ward]

waiting for my siblings to finish watching fourze :/

no further comments, i'm just impatient

[levixreader]

Levi x K-Star Reader - It's not what it looks like - Chapter II

Summary: It had been a month, a whole ass month and the stories weren't dying down. It didn't help that the night before you had attended Hange's birthday party. So here you were, on a conference with Levi trying to figure out this PR nightmare. Request by anonymous

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It's not what it looks like

《 Chapter II 》

You gripped the edges of your seat; hyper-aware of how the inside of your nails was being packed by the sponge-like material that filled the leather chair you were sitting on. You felt nervous, you had never been involved in any scandal. “This is not your fault”, you reminded yourself. It hadn’t been your fault. You looked to your manager next to you, he was scrolling through his messages. You wanted to puke. Your leg started to hammer nervously against the carpeted floor, your eyes switching from your manager to the wall; 3:39 it read. They were late.

It had been a month since the ‘incident’. The biggest fuck up of your career; falling off the stage straight into Levi Ackerman’s arms, CFO to Recon International Enterprise. You sank into the chair remembering the idiotic picture that was still circulating online; You on his arms sprawled on the floor inches away from his face. Never had you been so embarrassed in your life. Yesterday had just added more wood to the fire. “Stupid fucking party”, you kept repeating in your head.

Hange, the strange woman who had been at the concert next to Levi, the head of innovation at R.I.E. had invited you to her birthday party. Your team had thought it a good idea to show there was no bad blood between the R.I.E. and yourself. It was bad enough you had lost the spokesperson deal over the media scrutinization. But, attending the party had proven to have been an even worse idea. Levi had, of course, been at the club too, but, you hadn’t even interacted with him, not a hi, nice to meet you, nothing, zero, nada. But it had been enough. The media had grabbed onto the fact you two had been in the same room to further the story.

What was worse? There was no story. Sure, he had caught and cushioned what would have otherwise been an awful fall but that was it. You didn’t understand where this romantic meet-cute thing had come out of, especially when the first thing he had said was “What are you waiting for to get off? an invitation, princess?” and trust, the princess part hadn’t been in a lovey-dovey way. You groaned still embarrassed at the memory. People had one glance at the stupid stupid picture and created their own story of what had happened. How were you supposed to know that the media would take the picture and run with it?

You flinched, immediately straightening up, the soft noise of footsteps and the glass door behind you opening. R.I.E. had requested an urgent meeting with you to discuss the media coverage. You swallowed, hard, this was it. You didn’t turn, opting to wait for whoever was meeting you to greet and acknowledge you. “Is that her?”, a familiar dark husky voice said from behind you. Before you could even react, your chair was being swivelled around. Winter grey eyes meet with your, very surprised, ones. Levi was looming over you, face inches away from your own. He was glaring down at you, his arm above your head on the top rail of the chair. He looked hot. You held his glare your nails digging even deeper into the chair. “Explain yourself”, came his voice again. Your heart quickened, “Pardon?”, you asked almost in a whisper. He clicked his tongue, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Captain!”, a female voice called out, his eyes never left yours, “Please stop harassing our guest!”, the same voice scolded. You could faintly see an orange-haired woman behind Levi. He clicked his tongue again, pushing your chair a bit as he straightened his position. “I wasn’t harassing her”, he barked to the girl. Even for his short stature, his presence was something. You were left gapping slightly your chair’s back firmly against the conference table. “If anything, she’s the one harassing me”, he said frowning at the woman next to him. “Harassing him?”, you thought, a frown of your own forming, “Harassing you?”, you voiced, calling back his attention on you.

He glared. This time more intensely than before, “Yes, wouldn’t you call harassment someone who is feeding false stories to the media?”, he asked, obviously rhetorically, his eyes fuming. You felt anger bubble, “You think I’m feeding those goons their stupid ass stories?”, you said now gripping the chair arms. His eyes lazily looked at your hands, “Are you denying it?”, he questioned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You gritted your teeth, “You think I want to be called “Levi Ackerman’s latest conquest”?”, you threw back. His eyebrow cocked upwards, obviously a bit amused, “No?”, you asked maliciously. You glared at him, “Look I don’t know who you think you are, but I have more self-respect than telling some nobody pervert to call me “The woman who got by nailed Levi Ackerman”, you said viciously.

He had not expected that. He had come in fully believing you had been the one feeding the media all the ridiculous stories that had been circulating. Not even his extensive network within the media could stop the influx of absurdity they were pumping out. He was sure you had caused all the problems that were plaguing his very private life. But here you were glaring at him, denying all accusations thrown your way. You were interesting. You had held his glare before too, not even flinching when he was practically over you. Perhaps you weren’t the leech he had imagined you were.

“Please take a seat Captain”, Petra called out. Levi didn’t answer, simply broke eye contact with you and proceeded to seat on the opposite side to you. This was going to be a long meeting.

* * *

Well, fuck.

He had been wrong. In his life, he had never been so completely, entirely wrong about someone. As it had become, painfully, evident during the meeting, you had nothing to do with the media witch hunt. If anything, he was sure you had burdened the worst of it. You had even lost the spoke person deal with his own company because of a conflict of interest; because of him. He had been so sure you were just another dog sniffing around him that he had vetoed you.

He felt wrong.

A heavy feeling of remorse settled below his guts. He had no right going around complaining about you the way he had the past few days. His eyes were firmly planted on you as you stretched your hand towards Petra. He groaned. He hadn’t even greeted you at Hange’s birthday. He had been an arsehole. t didn’t help how overly kind you were too; you had been nothing but nice despite his earlier outburst. So willing to cooperate and put this whole nightmare to rest.

Your eyes landed on his, he could not sense any lingering anger. “Fuck”, he thought, his fingers closing around your palm. Your hands were soft, even from where he stood, he could smell the faint smell of vanilla. You were nothing like what he had seen on stage; like a vixen ready to pounce, your eyes glimmering with provocation. More like a bunny caught in headlights. “A pleasure Mr Ackerman”, you said with remaining attitude. A bratty bunny, he noted.

He needed to apologise.

He retracted his hand, his eyes shifting towards the door- only you and he were left in the meeting room. “Perfect”, he thought. You turned determined to walk out. “I’m sorry for earlier”, he blurted out making you stop mid-way. That was something you had not expected. The whole meeting, he had either been glaring or observing you, you were sure he was making some sort of study on you.

You weren’t surprised at his attitude. For the most part, you understood him. Anyone in his position would have thought you were trying to gain something out of being connected to someone the media was so hungry for. And after you two encounters, he did not look like someone who tolerated any games or bullshit. You respected that. There were plenty of people around you who did that.

“Please allow me to make it up to you for my behaviour”, he continued, you narrowed your eyes at him ready to decline- but he seemed like the type who didn’t like owing anyone anything. If you refused, you felt as if things would feel… incomplete. You wanted nothing but to close whatever the hell was that was between the two of you. “Only if you can guarantee no media in the vicinity”, you answered offering him a smile. The ends of his mouth twitched upwards. Might as well make a joke out of the whole situation. “Dinner”, he offered. You smiled wider, “Now?”, you countered. “No nonsense”, he mused smiling, “I’ll have my car waiting”.

[wolfcha1k]

"One look and I can't catch my breath Two souls into one flesh When you're not next to me I'm incomplete 'Cause I'm on fire like a thousand suns I couldn't put it out even if I wanted to These flames tonight Look into my eyes and say you want me, too Like I want you"

"All my life I've been looking for a place my parents wanted me to find, and I found it… but now? All I can think about is Eep. My best friend, my first… and only love."

Summary: Guy and Eep reflect on what has happened in the wake of these two crazy moons since their Tomorrow was challenged. There's damage that needs to be fixed and broken hearts to mend. - <3 - I used a ton of references from the movie as well as loosely traced bits, the kiss was referenced from the ending of "A New Age". I wanted to draw a proper cover for my new "chapter" for my "The Sun Was a Wayfarer" series, which is a bunch of one shots/little stand alone stories set in the same timeline despite it kinda skipping around a bunch. This one is "All I Can Think Of" as of now it takes place after "It's Our Nature" and before "A Tomorrow of Our Own", ngl, this chapter was mostly to practice writing kisses, I had some fun actually writing it. Usually I get hella embarrased lol I'm gonna paste the story beneath the picture, hope you like ~

The Sun Was a Wayfarer - Series

<Previous> Its Our Nature <next> A Tomorrow of Our Own

The moment Guy saw a chance to get away from the Pack he took it, quickly grabbing for Eep's hand to pull her down a random direction into the garden. She started in surprise before willingly following him with a trust Guy didn't feel he deserved anymore after last night. Guy didn't stop until he felt they were far enough away that nobody would find them without looking very hard, hidden behind some of the large gourds and corn.

He spun around to face her, letting out a long sigh. Guy just needed a moment to look at her, dark eyes worried and concerned as the adrenaline of what happened just a few hours ago finally seeped out of his body. Guy was covered in bruises and ached all over but it was nothing compared to the pain of when he thought he lost her forever three times in the span of just two terrifying days of his life. Somehow The End of the World felt miniscule in comparison now that Eep was his world.

His Tomorrow.

He rested his shaky hands on her shoulders, relief making him dizzy. Eep supported the sudden slumping of his weight, her green eyes wide with concern. "Guy! What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, a tired smile on his face as he looked at her.

She held him up by the arms before lifting him up into hers. Eep sat down on the grass and positioned him on her lap, stroking the fringe of hair away from his face.

She could see the swollen purple bruises on his cheek and the black eye he had, his lower lip looked swollen and puffy. "You had a bad day," she sighed, cuddling him close.

"Yeah," he managed to chuckle, finding some amusement out of her words. "But it's better now that you're here…" He pressed a tired, sloppy kiss to her shoulder and rested his forehead there after. "Empathis on the better."

She just tugged him closer, as if her arms could squeeze the exhaustion and nerves right out of him. "I'm sorry," Eep suddenly said, muffling her face against his cheek. He felt moisture against his skin and the slight tremor in her arms and shoulders. "I'm really sorry."

Her warbled words cut him like a knife and he used his head to nudge her back so he could look at her. He could see the beginnings of tears on her eyelashes, gaze watery as she blinked it away stubbornly. Guy reached his hand to touch her face, feeling her recoil a bit before relaxing into his palm. He wiped his thumb under her eye, catching a tear.

He realized his own eyes felt moist all of a sudden, it'd been an emotionally charged couple of days. "It's okay, Eep. You didn't do anything wrong, I was just so stupid."

She sighed heavily, unwinding an arm from around his body so she could cover his hand with her calloused palm. Eep said nothing for several long moments, just clutched his hand like a life line.

"Eep?"

Eep finally looked at him, tearing her eyes from the random direction she'd sent her sights towards. "Yeah?"

"You're not hurt, are you?" Guy sat up a bit in her lap, cautiously letting his palms trace her broad shoulders, fingers squeezing tentatively to see if she would flinch. He knew she was good at hiding things like injuries, nursing them in private as to avoid upsetting Grug, it'd also extended to him now. She was strong but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to worry over her.

"No, I don't have a scratch on me," she assured him but Guy didn't stop checking her. Eep let him fuss though, knowing it would make him feel better if he came to the conclusion himself. His touch felt nice though, Eep realizing how starved she was for it since being separated from each other.

He touched her back, her arms, her ribs, anywhere his hands could reach in a modest way, careful in his examination. After running a hand down her leg, his eyes fell to where the prohestic was once on her pinkie toe. "I'm so, so glad you actually don't have a toe there," he sighed, knowing it was one of the most nonsensical, bizarre phrases he'd ever uttered in his seventeen years of life.

"Guess getting bit by that bearyena came in handy for once," Eep quipped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

He also was relieved she hadn't been ripped in half during the struggle, it had to be a miracle of some kind. Guy didn't voice this though, just traced his hands slowly back up her body so he could hold her waist. He missed her so much and he was quick to show her that, words failing him as he gently brushed her lips in a kiss. He let his hands slide up her back to lovingly stroke her shoulders, feeling the muscles ripple under his palms. She shivered and he shook, he pulled her closer as if to warm them both but still the trembling never stopped.

He always did love her shoulders and muscles, the clinical and practical part of him admired the strength and power there, how they could flex and be used to take down beasts twice her size. Then there was the simplicity of just being a man who loved a beautiful woman and it inspired a different kind of appreciation in him.

One that he knew Grug who absolutely skewer him alive for, his heart longing and aching as he hugged Eep. He never knew he could be so needy, it should have been pathetic as a puppy following its master for attention, never satisfied.

They'd shared an intense kiss over the raging flames but it still wasn't enough after the longest dry spell he had ever known since meeting her. After that first kiss in the ocean, he never got enough of her now. He was greedy and never was ashamed of that when it came to loving her.

He only wanted to be with her until there were no more Tomorrows that crossed the sky.

Eep quickly cupped his face in her hands and surged forward against him, her ferocity taking him by surprise. He practically squeaked when he felt the nip of her teeth on his bruised lip but somehow he couldn't care less. Just welcomed it, tilting his head and taking in the taste of her as he brushed her tongue with his. It was like fire and he was more than happy to be burned, letting Eep fly with him like the wild tiger in his stories.

He drew away a moment, just the slightest breath away as he spoke, pressing a few rapid kisses to her lips with each word. "You." Kiss. "Have." Kiss. "No idea." Kiss. Kiss. "How much I missed you," Guy finished in a rush, breathless as he lowered his head to trail a series of kisses down the column of her throat, grazing his teeth lightly on the skin of her collarbone.

There was a hitch in her breath at the affection. "Can't be more than I missed you."

He went to nuzzle her ear, placing a chase kiss on her earlobe. Eep arched into him and he clutched her tight as if she were water slipping through his fingers. "I thought I was going to die seeing you up there," Guy uttered in a strained voice. He could picture it so clearly, seeing her leaping and bounding across skeletal remains hanging precariously from old tendrils of vine. The spiny mandrilla closed on her heels and he could do nothing but watch, screaming her name out in desperation until his throat went raw. "I screwed up and almost didn't get to fix it."

Guy felt Eep nudge his head away from her so they could look at each other properly again. She just traced her thumb over his cheek, tender as she marked one of his hand print shaped bruises. "You saved me," she finally said, leaning forward to steal a kiss, smiling against his lips as they brushed, once, twice and finally a proper one that had Guy's toes curling and his head fuzzy. "I was so happy when I saw you again, Guy."

He'd been more than shocked to have seen Eep and the others arrive, riding Chunky and a pack of wolfspiders. He had practically given his last rights, resolving painfully he would never see her again, never fix what he had done to her. His first and only love, he didn't need to meet any other girls to know what he felt was real and it was more than just a beautiful teenage romance.

"You want to talk about heroics? How many people come swooping in on a tiger and take on a giant monster single handedly," Guy pressed his forehead against hers, awed by her courage and humbled by her love for him. "And here I picked a tree over you."

"It wasn't just a tree," she lightly scolded him much to his surprise. "I get it now."

Guy felt moisture collect on his eyelashes and without another thought, closed the distance between them once more. He let his hands roam, touching every part of her out of fear he would forget how warm and solid her body felt in his arms. It was almost like a dream, eyes shut tightly and listening to the soft little gasps in her breath, the way her chest heaved against his own. He hated needing to breathe when all he wanted was this, reluctantly pulling away as he felt light headed, exhilarated and breathless.

"Never again," he promised her, nuzzling his nose against hers. Eep practically purred at the loving attention, letting her palms rest on his shoulders to gently knead the tension there. He shuddered, forehead pressed into hers, knowing the gesture meant so much more than simple touch to her. "I'd rather chop off both my legs than lose you again. Please never scare me like that, I couldn't bare it."

She kissed his lips, gentle before in all her passionate nature, looped her arms around his neck and kissed him enough that Guy was convinced he'd forget his own name.

But that was okay, because she reminded him, pulling away. "Guy, I love you," she only said, beaming at him.

"Please say it again," he pleaded.

"I love you."

He felt his eyes growing glassy again and Eep kissed a tear away from below his eye, soft and tender. He smiled at her, embracing her tightly once more from his comfortable position in her lap. "I love you more," he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

"I love you more," she protested, lightly shoving him to nibble his ear, feeling his weight push into her.

"No, I said I love you more first."

"And I'm telling you I love you more right back," she purred, lifting her neck to give him better access to her jawline when he started to press an open mouth kiss there.

He felt her pulse rush under his lips like she'd ran a marathon, skin flushed as red as her hair. He couldn't help but kiss her again and again.

"You're so stubborn," he grumbled good naturedly, nuzzling her.

"Takes one to know one, babe." Eep grinned at him, stroking the nape of his neck and fiddling with his top knot.

It was just them now and feeling thrilled that he had her to himself, gently nudged her down, feeling her eyes bore into his. Guy braced his arms above her, not caring his muscles throbbed in protest. He could see the sun as it set shimmering there, burning with more than mere fire.

Her eyes were nearly amber in the low light of the evening, glinting with love. Those same eyes reminded him of the first night they met, curious and glowing as the fire flickered. He touched her face, fingers curling under her chin, taking in her flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. It was a good look for her. She was beautiful, and no amount of sleeping suns in the sky would ever compare.

There must have been something in his expression for he saw her tremble and emotion swelled within him as he shut his eyes. He ached in more ways than just the pain from the ordeal with getting pummeled by a bunch of punch monkeys.

No more words were spoken for a long time, whoever reached for whom first he didn't care. All that mattered was now she was in his arms, heart pressed against heart and the gentle whispers of breath against lips. She arched into him and it took all his might to remember how to breathe. She palmed his shoulder suddenly with a growl, pushing him beneath her and he didn't fight her.

No one and no thing would ever separate them again, he thought as he caught her lips once more in a fluid movement.

Grug had panicked when he realized Guy and Eep had disappeared. After today, who could really blame him for it? Everyone was quick to volunteer to find them, Ugga crouching to encourage Sandy to use that skilled sense of smell of hers. The fierce little tot bounded into the fields, disappearing into the tall grass and crops.

"She's got the scent!" Gran exclaimed, hobbling after her youngest granddaughter.

Grug just worried and worried, Ugga absently massaging a kink out of his large neck. "Relax, the farm is safe. I'm sure Eep and Guy are alright, Grug."

"Still," he began with a frown. "I'd feel better knowing that with my own eyes, honey."

They'd followed Sandy through the gardens, the farther they went the more Grug fretted. It felt too long when Sandy finally paused, several large bushes and crops shielding the view. She pawed in the direction of it, turning to giggle and pounce into Ugga's awaiting arms.

"Good girl, Sandy," she praised, pressing her cheek against hers fondly.

Grug lead the way, parting the foliage. Everyone shoved about behind him and attempted to peak around him, making the caveman huff in annoyance.

The family came upon the couple hidden amongst the fields of other worldly produce, cozy together on the grass as they traded needy little kisses. Alternating between whispering, giggling and pressing a small kiss here or there, Guy and Eep were content in their bubble. Guy was curled up as content as a house cat right in her lap, Eep's arms around him in a hug. The sight would have infuriated Grug once upon a time ago but he'd seen a lot in just two days.

Things changed and so did he. His daughter deserved happiness and having seen just how broken Guy had been over her, he knew it wasn't just puppy love.

It was full grown.

"Aw," Dawn gushed as she peeked over Grug's shoulders, standing on her tiptoes. "How cute, are they always like that?"

The typical young boy that he was, Thunk made a face, his travel window lowering. "Bleh," he only said. "Again already?"

Gran snorted and leaned over to Dawn to say inconspicuously, "You have no idea, smart girl."

Belt's only response from around Dawn's torso was to make a swooning gesture, unwinding an arm to drape it over his face. Dawn chuckled when immediately after the sloth was gushing over Sash who'd leaned down to nuzzle noses with Guy's little friend. "I get the picture."

Hope folded her hands to her chest, "I can't believe we tried breaking them up… who does that?"

The words Hope said affected Grug more than he wanted to admit and guilt swelled inside him.

Ugga patted him gently on the shoulder, rousing her mate's quiet contemplation. "Well?" Ugga asked him in that soft voice of hers, gray eyes shifting back towards Guy and Eep.

"Leave them be," Grug told her and the others, shaking his head with a reserved little smile. He felt sad but there was a fatherly resolve in his heart. Eep would always be his little girl but he had to accept she had her own life to live now.

One with many Tomorrows that he knew Guy could give her, there was no doubt the young man was going to give her the world on a silver platter. The thought of her leaving was like a knife in his heart, even Guy would be a tough bone to swallow, after all, Grug had called him son. And as a father, he only wanted what was best for them, even if it meant it wasn't here with him anymore.

Gran stomped her cane on the grass. "Who are you and what have you done with our Lunkhead?"

Grug grunted, "What? I'm not allowed to have a change of heart now?"

Ugga leaned her head against his fondly. "I'm proud of you, big guy."

Grug didn't want to get emotional, feeling the moisture gather in his eyes. Phil threw an arm over his shoulders on the side Ugga didn't occupy.

"Something on your mind, bro?" His eyes were sympathetic.

He sniffled, "Nothing, really." Grug shrugged Phil's arm off and sighed.

"You can tell me," Phil encouraged, lifting a hand in an encouraging manner.

"I don't wanna."

"I'm knocking on the door, big guy. Let me in!" He persisted.

Grug side eyed him, knowing no matter what he said the lanky Betterman was going to get his way. "It's just… gonna be hard to let them go," he said, the words slightly warbled. He was a big scary caveman but he'd always been soft in the heart despite the stoney exterior.

Gran scoffed, the old matriarch beginning to hobble away. "There's our Grug now. The big baby."

Phil patted him on the back, "There, there, it'll be alright. Besides, I have a solution to your little problem."

He looked uncertain as Phil led him away from the serene couple, the rest of the family following behind. "What do you mean 'solution'?"

"Let's just say it's a wedding present for our favorite pair of lovebirds, Gruggers. You can help me get it ready, they'll take one look at it and want to stay forever." Phil then fondly nudged his friend's back. "Just please learn to use doors, Guy won't be happy if you tear a hole in their little love nest. Knocking will save you a lot of grief too."

"Love nest?" Grug echoed and for a moment the protective father that wanted to smother his daughter peeked out.

Before he could regret his decision, it was a joint effort to shove him towards the large tree on the property, hefting a sigh and pouting as Ugga just laughed.

And oblivious to the world around them, Guy and Eep stayed stuck together, joint by the heart.

[snakebites-22]

Heylo! I saw that you were asking for requests, and I have one if you want to write it! What if the reader is always drawing on the boards after school, and students don’t know who does it, and one day Peter catches her drawing? Idk, I kinda liked the idea! I love your writing hun!!🥰💕❤️

Peter Parker and The Dry Erase Board Artist

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A/N: And here it is! Almost a whole month after I said I would have it done! I am so so so sorry for how long this took and also sorry for how shitty it also is. I hope you enjoy this trash fire that I just spent almost 4 hours on and finished at 1 am. Oh, I also made this gender neutral using they/them pronouns. 

Warnings: uh language, slight death threat?, stupid teachers, numbers, fluff ig, idrk 

Word Count: 2279

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: There’s a new mystery in Midtown, and it’s the creator of the dry erase board drawings. Peter is desperate to find out who it is even if it means losing sleep and missing assignments. What will it take to find out who this secret artist is?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter knew all about mysteries. He used to stay up too late reading those mystery novels by flashlight when he should have been sleeping. He grew up loving them. The amount of times May would walk into the living room to see him once again binge watching Scooby Doo was uncountable. Even now, he prided himself on being one of the biggest mysteries in New York: Spider-Man. He had to hold back a grin whenever he heard people discuss who the masked hero could possibly be. The craziest one so far was that Spider-Man was actually an alien being used by the government. He wasn’t sure who came up with that one, but props to them for their creativity.

He just absolutely loved mysteries of all shapes and sizes, and now, he had a new one to solve: the drawings. He called it Operation Dry Erase Board, and yes, the name did need improvement. Both MJ and Ned made sure to tell him that every single time he brought it up. Ned had suggested The Search for the Hidden Artist, which MJ just said sounded even worse. 

It had started a couple weeks ago. He had walked into his first period calculus class to see everyone whispering and taking pictures of the board. His first reaction was panic － his teacher was prone to surprise pop quizzes － but it soon turned to awe as he stared at the array of color across the board. It was a beautifully detailed portrait of the sea. He gazed upon the scene of manta rays and fish and even the silhouette of a shark. There was coral and shells of every color, and the lines and swirls of blue captivated him.There was no signature. Nobody knew who had done it. 

At first, Peter just tried to brush it off. There was somebody in the school who was skilled with dry erase board markers and was very artistically gifted. Not the biggest deal, but good for them. It became a bigger deal when the next day a gorgeous rendition of Starry Night was covering the board of the biology classroom. Once again, no signature. That’s when Peter started to become invested. 

He questioned MJ first. She was one of the only artists he knew, but she just scoffed. “I’m good, but dry erase markers are shit for me to work with.” 

He started paying more attention in art class, looking for anyone with a similar style. Nothing. Everyone was your typical high school artist who was just there for the credits, meaning people like him. Don’t ask about how designing the first spidey suit went.

 The drawings just kept coming. He soon saw space, dinosaurs, a jungle, The Mona Lisa, even each of the Avengers all spread across the dry erase boards. Each one of these was so beautiful and so alluring that it made his eyes sting and shouts of protest to erupt from the students when the teachers had to erase them. Even if they didn’t erase them, they were gone the next day. Whether it was the Hidden Artist or the janitor, Peter didn’t know. It was just another part in the mystery.

A lot of the drawings weren’t done in any classrooms that Peter had, meaning he would have to take field trips during his lunch period to go and find them. Most of the time he already knew where he was going. There was now a whole Instagram page dedicated to the art. It was run by Daphne, who was in both Yearbook and the Art Club. He had asked her if it was her, but she had just giggled and said she was a fan. Honestly, Peter was too. 

He would stare at the art for as long as he could each time he saw it, and he stared at the pictures he took of them even longer. He was consumed by the art, by his love for it. He needed to find out who the artist was, but unfortunately for him it would have to wait. He was so preoccupied with being Spider-Man and now also being a shitty detective that he was falling behind on both his work and his sleep. He had now fallen asleep a total of five times over the course of a week and a half, and he was close to failing both AP Government and Spanish, simply because he wasn’t catching up on his workload. 

Now, he was passed out in AP Lang, the one class that everyone knew not to fall asleep in. He couldn’t help it. He was running on a total of 4 hours for the week, and it was a Thursday. Not even his spidey sense could have prepared him for the crash of a ruler against a metal trash can right next to his ear. After nearly falling out of his chair and almost decking his teacher, Peter was given two weeks’ worth of detentions. 

“Hopefully that’ll teach young Mr. Parker here to pay attention instead of dozing off in the middle of class. Maybe he’ll catch up on his missing assignments, too. Speaking of, would you like to tell the class which rhetorical devices you’ll be utilizing in your essay, Mr. Parker?” All Peter could do is stare back at his teacher, horror written over his face. 

————————

It was 3:30 on a Wednesday, and Peter was losing his mind. Each of his detentions were an hour and a half long, lasting from 3:15 to 4:45. He had managed to catch himself up on his work and raise his grades a bit, but that didn’t change his predicament. He couldn’t go home or skip detention, meaning he was stuck at school for another hour and fifteen minutes. When he asked if he could do something, he was told he could go help the janitor. With a sigh, he got up and went in search of the janitor’s closet. 

During the time spanning over his punishment, he had nearly forgotten about his obsession with the Hidden Artist. Of course he still saw and heard about the drawings and he would still stare when he saw them, but now with the need to focus on his assignments being drilled into his brain every day on top of trying to stop bad guys each night, he was forced to move on. He didn’t want to. God, if he had the chance he’d stare at those drawings for hours on end, but he didn’t have that chance. It fucking sucked. 

After a couple minutes of searching, he finally found the closet. He grabbed a broom and looked around, and to his left, there was a classroom with the door slightly open. With a heavy sigh, he walked towards the room and pushed the door open, only to stop dead. There, across the room, was a brand new drawing, and it was a drawing of him. Not him him, of course, but a drawing of Spider-Man. It was a drawing of an event he recognized from yesterday when he had walked a lost kid back to their parents. The drawing showed him crouched down in front of the kid who was crying, and he had his hand out as an offer for the child to take it. 

Upon closer inspection, the drawing seemed incomplete. There were too many white spaces which wasn’t the artist's style. As he stepped closer to it, he heard the door creak and a gasp behind him. He spun around, nearly falling over in the process, and looked up wildly. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw Y/n L/n, a student in his grade. They stared back at him with wide eyes. 

“Did...did you do this?” Peter asked slowly. Y/n hesitantly nodded. 

“If you tell anyone about this, Parker, you’re dead.” 

He was slightly taken aback by this. Not the death threat, necessarily, he got those all the time, but it was a bit of a surprise coming from Y/n.

“I won’t. I promise,” he said softly. 

Y/n nodded slightly before striding towards the board and taking out a marker, beginning to fill in all of the white spaces Peter had noticed earlier. 

After a moment, Peter asked, “How do you do it?”

Y/n turned towards him, black marker clutched in their hand. “What?”

“The drawings. They’re so beautiful...I didn’t even know you could draw like that.”

“Everyone has their secrets, Parker. I’m sure you have yours.” 

Peter almost laughed at that, because yeah, he did, and Y/n was drawing it across the Physics dry erase board. But he didn’t laugh. He just smiled a little and kept watching, forgetting all about the broom that was now leaning against a desk.

“So...Spider-Man huh?” 

Y/n sighed and turned to him. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be sweeping or something?” 

Peter shrugged. “Or something. Look, this is probably gonna sound super weird, but I’ve been trying to figure out who you were for weeks. Your art is super amazing and cool and I just wanted to know so badly who was talented enough to pull it off. And now I know.”

“Are you disappointed?” It wasn’t a question out of fear, but more out of curiosity. Y/n sat themselves on a desk and waited for the answer. 

“I don’t think so,” Peter said. “This was just unexpected, I guess. I didn’t even consider you for a suspect.” Y/n chuckled at this. 

“Nobody suspects me. That’s the fun part of all of this, actually. Did you know people actually thought that it was Ms. Rosemary for a while?”

“The crazy teacher’s aid?”

“Yup. The theory, I think, was that she was so crazy that art became like her therapy or escape or whatever. I mean, it can be like therapy, but I think Rosemary needs a little more than some doodles in order to help her.”

“These aren’t just ‘some doodles,’ Y/n. They’re-”

“Beautiful. Yeah, you’ve said.” They shrugged. “It’s just scribbles on a board, Parker. Scribbles that, for whatever reason, make our brains happy.”

Peter didn’t really have a response to that, so instead he just watched as Y/n went back to work. 

————————

That was how he would spend his detentions. He would offer to go help the janitor, and then he would run around the school trying to find Y/n. Eventually, on the days where the drawings took less time to create, Y/n started to try to teach him how to draw. Basic things at first, like flowers or trying to break things down into their simpler shapes. He could barely do either of those things, but he enjoyed trying anyways. On other days, Peter would just sit and watch in silence as they drew. It was mesmerizing, and only he got to witness it. 

It became their thing. Even after detentions ended, Peter would stay after school for an hour or so just to go hang out with Y/n. They would have snacks and play music and have a good time. Peter learned that Y/n stayed after school since their parents were never home until the late evenings, so they stayed back just for the hell of it. He also learned that they were good friends with the janitor and that his name was Roger. He was the reason that they were even able to stay for as long as they did. It was pretty cool. 

It was a Friday, and Peter was spinning around in the teacher’s chair while Y/n drew a forest scene. Peter watched them for a while, a small smile on his face. They were also so concentrated when they worked, their eyes narrowing and jaw tightening as they drew the different lines and curves that made up the masterpiece. Unbeknownst to Y/n, Peter had a surprise for them. 

“Hey, N/n?” Peter asked. All he got was a hum in response. He rolled his eyes. “Come here.”

Y/n sighed and got off of the stool that they had been sitting on. “What do you want, Pete?” they asked as they strolled over, leaning over the desk when they got close enough. In response, Peter held up a small, wrapped up bundle. Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed as they picked it up. 

“What-”

“Shhhh!” Peter said with a soft giggle. “Just open it.”

Y/n narrowed their eyes at him before slowly tearing the paper away. They smiled softly as they stared at the multipack of dry erase markers, enough colors to make practically any drawing that happened to cross their mind. 

“Why?”

“A simple thank you would have sufficed. It’s an appreciation gift for all of your art. I figured by now you’ve probably killed most of the markers in the school, so I got you some new ones.”

Y/n chuckled a little and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You deserve it.”

“I literally just make colored lines one a board.”

“And I appreciate those colored lines! They give me serotonin as do you.”

“I give you serotonin?”

“Yes.”

Y/n blinked in surprise. “Alright then...you also give me serotonin.”

“Really? Awesome.”

They both laughed for a moment, Y/n glancing back down at the markers as Peter continued to look at them.  

“Hey, Pete?” Y/n asked as they looked back up at him. “What?”

“Would you...would you like to continue to provide me with serotonin and go out with me?”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, but soon it was his smile that was widening instead. 

“Absolutely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:  @tommysparker @bebbeb @stixnstripesworld @orowit @dreamerinthesun @ididntseeurbag @bruhelpimgay @yikes-n-bikes @becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot @thespydersargon @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @th0ttie4tommy

[marypsue]

hm. time for another teaser for an as-yet-incomplete longfic, I think. 

...

Rain rattles against the windows. Somewhere out in the night, thunder booms and grumbles. The sky flickers like an old black-and-white movie.

It’s been years since Steve cared about whether his parents are in town for any reason beyond party planning. But he catches himself wishing they were here, now, just so he wouldn’t have to be alone in the house. It’s way too quiet.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling, driving back from the video store after his shift, that he was being followed.

It’s probably the craziest paranoid thought he’s had since this all started. There wasn’t even anybody driving behind him most of the way home. Actually, traffic had been totally normal. Maybe even…too normal?

No. Nope. That’s nuts. He’s nuts. It’s official, Steve Harrington is out of his ever-loving mind.

He turns the TV on to MTV, with the sound up as loud as it’ll go, and stubbornly tries to pretend he doesn’t jump halfway out of his skin when the phone rings.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes, to himself, turning off the TV set before picking up the phone. “Harrington residence, you got Steve.”

“ ‘Harrington residence’?” Robin’s voice echoes, disbelievingly, and Steve breathes out.

“You try explaining to my old man why one of his business partners called his home number and got greeted with ‘You got Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington at Loch Nora’s one and only twenty-four/seven party pad, how can we get you fucked up?’” Steve waits a moment for Robin to stop laughing. “And yes, before you ask, that did really happen.”

“Oh my god, Harrington, how did it take everyone this long to figure out what a hopeless dweeb you are?”

Steve shrugs, before remembering Robin can’t see him. “I have a nice, big house that’s usually empty, I’m good at sports, and my hair is awesome. Nobody in high school ever really needed or wanted anything more from me.” It hits him, as he says it, just how true it is. Thinking about it just makes him feel pathetic, though, so instead he says, “So. You got Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington at Loch Nora’s one and only twenty-four/seven party pad. How can we get you fucked up?”

Robin snorts.

“Don’t really need much more help in that department, thanks,” she says. “My parents went to a movie and I’ve got the house to myself. Mostly I just called you to hear another human voice.”

It wasn’t so long ago, Steve thinks, that getting a call from a girl who said her parents were out for the evening would’ve meant one thing and one thing only. That’s so far removed from what’s happening here that it’s almost funny.

He doesn’t laugh, though. “Yeah? Well, I’m glad you did. It gets way too quiet up here, too.” He paces across the kitchen, then turns around and paces out into the living room, going from the full length of the cord in one direction to the full length of the cord in the other. “You get home okay before the storm hit?”

“Yeah. I caught a couple drops pulling into the driveway, but I didn’t get, like, drenched. Or struck by lightning.” With eerily good timing, a flash lights up the picture window in the living room, illuminating the patio, the pool, and the woods beyond in sharp black-and-white for an instant before everything goes dark again. Steve mutters a curse, straining against the phone’s cord to try to reach the drawstring for the blinds. The cord’s just about a foot too short. “What about you?”

“Wha? Oh, yeah. Definitely,” Steve agrees. “What – what were we talking about again?”

Robin sighs heavily into the phone. “Steve.” There’s a shade of concern in her deliberately casual voice as she asks, “Are you okay? You seem…more of a space case than usual lately.”

“What? No, I’m fine.” Steve brings a hand up to run absently through his hair. Outside, through the raindrops smearing down the glass, he can still see the pool, even with its lights out. The clouds overhead crackle and glow with lightning, the sound of it hissing and popping in the phone line. The lights in the kitchen and the living room all flicker, and Steve’s heart clenches in his chest, but the steady glow comes right back, warm and reassuring. He breathes out. “Just, y’know. Haven’t been sleeping so great.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“Right. Already told you that.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Thunder booms through the house like there are no walls between him and the storm, vibrating in his bones. A dull ache starts in his temples, works its way down into his cheekbones, his jaw. Those fucking Russian thugs must’ve fractured something in there, something that didn’t show up on the X-rays. The bruising’s all healed, but it’s still hurting whenever he gets stressed out. Which is…all the time, now. “Hey, what did you mean when you asked if the Russians could have come back?”

Robin is silent so long that Steve wonders if the lightning’s knocked out the phone line. “Robin?”

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. Just had a – weird feeling… Look, we probably shouldn’t talk about this over the phone.” Robin makes a token effort to sound like she’s joking as she says, “You know. Wiretaps.”

“Right. Gotcha.” Steve twirls the phone cord around his finger as he stares out at the patio. “You work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’ve got the late shift. You’re on in the morning, right?” Robin pauses for a moment before she says, “Meet you at Benny’s for lunch?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Noon?”

“It’s a date,” Robin says. “Try and get some sleep, Harrington. Day of the Dead might be a hit, but it’s not out on tape yet, we don’t need a zombie in the store to advertise it.”

“Seriously. Standup comedy is missing you,” Steve sighs into the handset. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Robin agrees, and then the line goes dead.

Steve keeps the handset pressed to his ear for a moment before he realizes he’s acting like a little kid with a security blanket, and hangs it up as fast as he can. The plastic of the cradle cracks with a sad little noise, just up in the top corner, and Steve flicks at it with one finger. He didn’t think he’d slammed it down that hard. Probably the plastic’s just gotten brittle from sitting in the sun.

He sighs, and flicks the TV back on, turning up the Police’s ‘Every Breath You Take’. Steve already knows he’s not going to be able to take Robin’s advice. He hasn’t had a solid night’s sleep in a week, and tonight doesn’t seem set to break the pattern. It’s impossible to tell if the sun’s set yet behind the solid wall of black clouds blotting out the sky, but he’s already vibrating with nervous energy. Wide, unfortunately, awake.

Sting’s vocals aren’t exactly relaxing, either. Steve’s never really listened to the lyrics to this song, but it turns out they’re creepy. “Every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”

It’s stupid. Steve’s not a baby. He’s gone after way worse monsters than a couple of guys with funny accents, with nothing more than a baseball bat with a few nails hammered through it and a healthy helping of bravado. And he’d been fine afterwards. Sure, had a few nightmares about getting ripped apart by demo-whatevers – or having to watch the kids get ripped apart by demo-whatevers – but they’d gone away. Eventually. Mostly. And they hadn’t had him jumping at shadows like this, scared to be alone in his own house, too scared to sleep, scared to look out his own window –

Lightning strikes, somewhere close by, throwing a sharp spotlight on the patio and the woods beyond. It goes on and on, for – it’s got to be seconds. Thunder smashes into the house and Steve’s ears along with it, rolling and rolling, rattling his teeth and making his jaw ache. Every light in the house flares brilliantly white, and then dies. The music dies with it, leaving only the drum of rain on the roof and the low, near-constant roll of thunder.

The lightning cuts out abruptly, plunging the world into darkness.

Steve steps closer to the window, to get a better look through the streaks the pouring rain leaves on the glass. After the flash, mostly what he can see are purple afterimages. And, looking pale and scared and only halfway there, reflected in the depths of the dark glass, his own face.

But he knows what he saw, in that single, blinding flash. And he knows he sees it again, as his eyes adjust to the dark, as he presses his nose nearly against the glass, holding his breath so it doesn’t fog it up. A rounded shape, gleaming pale against the darkness, half-hidden back between the trees. A round, pale shape turned towards the house.

A round, pale shape at about the height of a face.

There’s somebody out there.

Somebody’s watching him from the woods.

[creatingnikki]

Dearest Cat,

How has your experience as a 23-year-old been? I’m a month in – exactly – and I think it’s going pretty well. Of course, it’s not like I see any instant growth or changes but I see little new patterns and my stance growing stronger in things that matter, and it’s all been building for the last few years. It’s nice to see it getting finally materialised in actions, however.

I’m sorry about your breakup. I’ve never been in a long-term ‘official’ relationship but I have been in relationships that have fucked with my mind while breaking my heart so I know how it can significantly affect you for a while to come. And take it from someone who tried the long-distance thing for 6 months, it’s never worth it and it never works out anyway.

I have been, quite uncomfortably and amusingly, been watching a lot of Daniel Sloss stand up comedy and I literally just heard him talk about something I think you should hear too:

“When I was seven years old, my dad said something to me that to this day is the reason I will die alone. Very happily, I may add. But I was seven years old, I didn’t know what life was. I didn’t know what existence was, how the fuck would I know? So I thought I’d ask my dad ’cause he can fix a computer, so he must know. So I was like, “Dad, what do we all do? What’s the meaning of life? Why are we all here? What what the fuck?” And my dad loves his kids, so he wants to explain to his son in a way that he’ll understand, but unfortunately, his son’s a fuckhead. So he has to explain it in a way that a fuckhead will understand, and he accidentally did it perfectly, and it’s stuck with me since then.

This is what he said, right? I’m seven years old. He goes, “All right, buddy. Just imagine that your life, my life, everyone else’s individual life. Imagine all of our lives are like our own individual jigsaw puzzles. As we’re going through life, we’re just slowly piecing it together, bit by bit, based on experiences and lessons that we’ve learned until we get the best picture, but the thing is everyone has also lost the box for their jigsaw. So none of us know what the image we’re trying to make is, we’re just confidently fucking guessing. So the best way to do a jigsaw, when you don’t have the image to work off, is to start from the outside, the sides and the four corners. Family. Friends. Hobbies/interests. Job.

Now obviously, as you go through life, some of these bits are subject to change. Sometimes you’ll make new friends, and you’ll lose contact with old so you gotta move this corner around a bit. Sometimes you’ll get a job. That means you can’t have certain hobbies. You gotta decide then, “Do I want more me time or do I want more work time?” You gotta move the stuff around. Sometimes you’ll have a family member that dies, and they’ll leave a big hole in your life. In that moment you’ll have to find a way to fill that void, otherwise you’ll be incomplete forever. ”

Now, that made perfect sense to me, because I was seven years old. I fucking loved jigsaws. So I was like, “All right, okay. So once you’ve got the stuff on the outside, what’s the main bit of the image? What we are all working towards?” And he goes, “Well, that’s That’s the partner piece. You and this perfect person who you’ve never met before to come out of nowhere, fit your life perfectly, complete you and make you whole for the first time in your life, much like your mother did for me. ” Seven. Seven years old. I wish you just said, “Ice cream!” And we could have fucked off.

And even though what he said sounds sweet and whatever, what it manifested in my seven-year-old brain was this, “If you are not with someone, you are broken. If you are not with someone, you are incomplete. If you are not with someone, you are not whole. ”

And that’s not just something my dad made me feel, that’s something that we as a society have made every single child born in the last 40 years feel. Every Disney princess has a prince, every prince has a princess, every television show or movie always has a character in it that doesn’t want to be in a relationship. They’re happy with who they are. But then by the end of the series, guess what. They were wrong! They were wrong for wanting to be alone, what a fucking idiot. Everyone needs someone, yeah. They were just a toasty little marshmallow, weren’t they? It’s all to do with love.

Divorce, an entirely common thing that there is nothing wrong with. When you’re growing up and your friends’ parents get divorced, you’re told to not talk about it or mention it to them because it’s taboo, and it is taboo is because every relationship on the outside is perfect, because none of us are willing to admit that none of us know what the fuck we’re doing. And when you raise children in that world, where everything points towards love and everything’s perfect on the outside, when you’ve raised them for 18 fucking years, when we become an adult for the first time in our late teens and our early 20s, we’re so terrified.

We’re so trying to be an adult that some of us will take the wrong person, the wrong jigsaw piece and just fucking jam them into our jigsaws anyway, denying that they clearly don’t fit. Oh, we’ll move pieces out the way, I don’t need this hobby, I don’t need this opinion. Mom who? The bitch with the tits. What’s she done for me recently? I’m gonna force this fucking person into our lives because we’d much rather have something than nothing. Then five years later, you’re stood looking at a jigsaw you don’t recognize, being like, “Ah! There’s a fucking cunt in the middle of this.”

Maybe you do meet the perfect person. Maybe you meet them, you go out. They make you laugh. You make them laugh. They’ve got a stupid laugh, but you fucking love it. They like what you like. They like your idiosyncrasies. It’s great. It’s perfect. Oh, my God, they’ve completed you. For three months. Every relationship is perfect for three months. And here’s why. ‘Cause after three months, that’s when you realize that nobody else is a jigsaw piece.

Everyone else on this planet is as deep and as complex and individual as you are, which means they too have spent the last 20 or so years of their life working on their own jigsaw puzzle, in the same way that you’ve been working on yours. You can’t suddenly expect them to give up everything they’ve come to achieve to suddenly fit into yours in the same way that you’d be pissed off if they asked you to sacrifice everything you’ve done, suddenly come fit into theirs, but now, because you like each other and because you’re interested in each other, now you have to make a jigsaw together. And we all know how fucking annoying that is. But you do it ’cause you’re in love and you’re interested, and maybe for the first couple years, it’s great. It’s like, “Oh, my God, you love this bit of me. I love this bit of you. Oh, my God, we got the same thing, yeah!” 

But time does not equal success. You can spend five or more years with someone, and only then, after all the fun you had, be looking at the jigsaw and realize you’re both working towards very different images. Only then realize that you want different things. And in that moment, you have a very, very difficult question to ask yourself. One. Do I admit the last five years of my life have been a waste? Two. Do I waste the rest of my life? 55% of marriages end in divorce. 99. 0% of relationships that started before they are 30 end. If those were the stats for surgery, none of us would fucking risk it. But because it’s love and we’re stupid, we just lie on the operating table like, “Maybe this time I won’t die inside. ” My generation has become so obsessed with starting the rest of their lives that they’re willing to give up the one they are currently living. We have romanticized the idea of romance, and it is cancerous. People are more in love with the idea of love than the person they are with.”

You should definitely watch his whole special on Netflix. That guy makes you uncomfortable. But he also makes you laugh. And sometimes, like in his above sketch, he makes you really think.

I think he has said all I would want to tell you about your break up – and I hope it’s helpful because I spent 30 minutes trying to find its transcript haha. And I don’t know what his conclusion really is, I still have the rest of the show to watch, but I think….I think love will come to us when it has to. Until then we just have to live our lives with joy and love for ourselves anyway.

Your meaning of love…I described something similar when I spent 13th Feb – the night before Valentine’s Day making my profile on Hinge. And that’s the thing that most people don’t understand – while 90% people I know first care about the physical appearance of the person, I care about whether we connect and have a spark. Whether we can make each other laugh and kinda just be at the same level/frequency. As you said…Connection of minds and souls and knowing each other to your core. Interestingly, there’s something that hit me like a fucking truck a few months ago and I scribbled it down before it had the chance to move on and leave me confused:

All this. Writing in your journal, underlining sentences in books, taking pictures you’ll never put up on social media or show anyone. All this is your consistent and earnest effort to try to communicate and connect with your past self and get to know your future self and coordinate between the three dimensions of who you were, are and will be. It’s all for you. By you. No one else needs to validate you. Or understand you. Or question you. It’s not their place, it never was.

You need to realize the person your past self was trying to become. The person your future self will need to be. You need to have patience when you can’t figure it out. When you feel betrayed. Because no matter how lacking you may be, you will never have any malicious intentions. You’ll not be flaky, you’ll not be weak, you’ll not throw yourself under the bus. Writing letters to yourself, making playlists so meticulously to capture every season, every mood and continuing despite being uncertain and confused…it’s all you reaching out to yourself.

And I think…it’s when we’re earnestly and constantly trying to connect with ourselves when we come across a person who does the same…we will easily and naturally connect with them, their energy.

I realize that due to the Jigsaw sketch by Daniel Sloss this letter has gotten pretty lengthy. But I still want to talk to you for some more. I hope you’re with me and have connected with my words up until now

About the work friends and how they were there for you and made you feel…isn’t that one of the most comforting, lovely and reliving things? Kinda unexpected too, no? I remember last year, a random lunch on a random workday, I looked around at these 4 smart, brilliant, kind and strong women – my co-workers and friends – at the round lunch table talking about meaningful things – personal and worldly – as we always did and just thinking – wow, finally, I finally belong! I’ve always been a very one-to-one person when it came to friends and was never part of a group (other than groups that feel absolutely uncomfortable and unwelcomed) that was so accepting, loving, sensitive and sincere. And smart! Gosh, so damn smart!

Soon after, each of us left that company – horrible management – and it’s been a year now. We are in touch but of course, it’s never going to be the same as before. And that’s okay. Just thinking of those times and them is enough to make me feel as loved and accepted as I did back in those days. And that’s what I want to tell you – you will come across such people who will truly care about you and help you nurture yourself but their life will overlap with yours just for a while. As a child, this would make me sad and angry! Now, it only makes me super grateful and mindful about being present in the moment that is now, in the life I am living right now. And I hope you can too

So, Cat, I don’t know how many months you have of being 23 but I hope they are all, as well as the coming years, full of connecting with yourself, with people that genuinely care about your well-being and growth and with everything that brings you joy and peace.

Lots of love,

Nikki

I wrote this letter for Nura basis some questions they answered. You can read the questions and their answers here. 

Guys - I have received 29 people’s responses for The Love Project - 29 days of love letters. So I won’t be accepting anymore, however, you can read other letters here. 

I may do this again later in the year and if you would want to receive a love letter from me then, you can drop in your email ID here xoxo

[yellowcanna]

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Available on AO3!!

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CHAPTER 14

STRAYS (NIGHT 3: TUESDAY)

This story has been beta'd by Momentary_Flight, Nanami_ontheShore, Shady Spades

Dazai sat comfortably in his seat as he looked towards the stage, his eye meeting a pair of sky blue ones. Bathed within the red light, nobody noticed the faint trail of a crimson glow slowly disappearing from the singer’s body.

Chuuya was smiling at the crowds and even talked to some of the audience that ran too close to the stage despite the line of waiters holding them back. Somewhere in the back, someone even threw him a can of beer, which he caught with ease before waving in that direction.

The man down there was like a star shining brilliantly in the night sky.

Yet only Dazai knew that, right now, every movement Chuuya made was carefully calculated. No matter how he stood or where he was seemingly looking towards, he made sure that Dazai was well within his sight. Despite how relaxed he may look, there was no question that the Executive would spring into action the second danger towards his boss was detected.

Chuuya walked off the stage, tossing the microphone to Tachihara who took his place.

The music picked up again, pulling the crowd's attention away from Chuuya as the redhead made his way back into the VIP section.

As soon as Chuuya returned, Dazai dismissed the guards around him, leaving the space for only the two of them.

The brunet patted his knees, but the redhead stopped right in front of him with his arms crossed.

“What’s wrong, Chuuya?” Dazai blinked his large, chocolate brown eye at his lover expectantly. “You were so docile before!”

“You want to see how docile I am?” Chuuya gritted, cracking his knuckles to loosen his joints.

“You never know who might be watching, we need to keep the act up!”

“There’s no one watching,” Chuuya retorted.

“They could from that giant hole in the wall.”

“You mean that?” Chuuya huffed proudly as he gestured towards the wall he had thrown the League of Villains through. The hole was already filled up by broken pieces of bricks, smashed together and squeezed into the hole until not even the smallest gap could be found.

“Uwaah…” Dazai made a disgusted face. “I bet interior designers all over the world are crying in joy that Chuuya didn’t become a construction worker.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya felt a vein on his forehead throb. It was a miracle his veins haven't popped yet. "I'd like to see you do better, you shitty—mmh!”

While the Executive was distracted, Dazai reached up, a nimble finger hooking onto the silver ring on the redhead’s choker, and pulled him down. Chuuya stumbled as he fell over Dazai, but he swiftly put a knee between his boss’s legs and a hand on each side of the brunet’s head to stop them from colliding.

Chuuya moaned into a pair of lips that smothered against his, with a wet tongue slipping into his mouth without any warning. Rough, calloused hands caressed his hips before they slipped under his tank top to feel his abs.

The redhead shivered at the touch before pulling away.

Dazai didn’t stop him. He just sighed in disappointment and licked his lips that were moist from the shorter man’s saliva.

“You know, Chuuya.” He looked up to the redhead who was fixing his clothes despite how it didn’t matter since they were in a club and the other wasn’t in his usual suit. “Maybe I should demote you and have you become my personal dog. That way, I can have you on my lap day and night.”

“I would like to ask the boss to please reconsider, as the Port Mafia cannot afford to lose a valuable asset such as Chuuya-sama.”

The boss and his right-hand man turned to see an elderly man making his way up the stairs.

“Ah, Hirotsu-san,” Dazai greeted cheerfully, “did you enjoy your vacation?”

“It was quite eventful.” Hirotsu bowed to his boss before turning to Chuuya. “Your performance tonight was spectacular, Chuuya-sama.”

"At least someone appreciates my effort," Chuuya moved to stand by his boss's side. 

“Well then, tell me about your reports, Hirotsu,” the Port Mafia boss said as he got comfortable in his chair.

Hirotsu reached into his coat and pulled out a large yellow envelope. Chuuya stepped forward to take it before passing it to his boss.

The first thing the two of them saw when Dazai pulled out the papers was the picture stapled on the first page. She was a young girl about the age of six or seven with bluish silver hair, crimson eyes, and a horn on the right side of her forehead.

“I have confirmed that the Shie Hassaikai is indeed creating a drug capable of destroying Quirks. The drug is created using the flesh of Chisaki Kai’s adoptive daughter, Eri.”

“Flesh?” Chuuya raised a brow. “So it’s a Quirk?”

“Yes. The girl’s Quirk is to rewind the time of living beings.”

"Which means with proper adjustments her Quirk can directly attack the virus within the host's bloodstream and completely erase the virus from the body without damaging the body itself," Dazai hummed as he flipped through the documents.

“It is quite similar to the vaccine first created when Quirk began to appear,” Hirotsu nodded.

“But now, those vaccines will only kill them,” Chuuya pointed out. “Since the second generation, the bodies of those outsiders started to merge with the virus and now it is part of their genetics. There's no way of reversing that process without killing them.”

“Yet this girl can rewind the time of the genetic structure of the body to separate the virus without taking their life.” Dazai smiled before his eye snapped to Hirotsu. “How far along is the development of this drug?”

“I would say at eighty percent," Hirotsu replied. “The current drug created by Shie Hassaikai can only temporarily remove a host’s Quirk for six to seven hours.”

“And?” Dazai tossed the documents onto the table. “Surely you’ve brought me the finished product.”

Hirotsu bowed before setting a black briefcase onto the table. He unlocked the case with a finger scanner then swiftly keyed in the passwords.

The case unlocked with a light click.

Spinning the briefcase around, Hirotsu laid it down and opened it to reveal five syringes. Each syringe was within a vacuum-sealed bag and filled with crimson fluid.

“During my infiltration, I had taken some of the incomplete drugs as well as some samples from the girl and brought it to the laboratory yesterday evening. These are the completed versions that the lab has created.”

“So they only needed one day to finish what Shie Hassaikai had been trying for years,” Chuuya snorted. Organized crime in the outside world is getting worse and worse as the years go by. It was also stupid of the Shie Hassaikai to sell the drug when it was still incomplete. Did they think they wouldn't catch unwanted attention? Or were they that confident in thinking they were the only ones capable of creating the drug just because they had the material?

Dazai reached forward and took out one of the syringes. He squinted his eyes to get a closer look at the drug inside. While the colour was the same as blood, the density was closer to water’s.

“Have these been tested on Ability users?”

"No," Hirotsu replied. “According to the head scientist, this drug only targets the body's DNA which the viruses reside in.”

“That I’m sure.” The brunet agreed as he put the syringe back into the case. “But nevertheless, we can never be too careful. Give these to Ryuunosuke-kun and have him test it out on Ability users. If by some miracle it does have the power to destroy Ability…”

Dazai’s eye narrowed, losing the warm light it held before and took a colder, crueler quality.

“Kill the girl and burn the Shie Hassaikai to the ground.”

“Yes, boss.” Hirotsu bowed. Recognizing his boss’s dismissal, he took his briefcase and headed off to complete the first task he was assigned since returning to work.

Chuuya watched Hirotsu leave before looking over to Dazai who was lazily flipping through the documents scattered on the table while humming a light tune.

“You seem pretty happy,” the redhead noted.

“Can you blame me?” Dazai grinned at his right-hand man. “It’s been a while since someone dared to blatantly scheme in front of me like that, especially when the schemer is as easy to read as an open book. I can’t help but play along~”

“Play along?” Chuuya narrowed his eyes, not believing a single word that came out of his boss’s mouth. “You mean manipulating them to play along with your shit? And don’t fucking tell me that making me sing on stage every Tuesday for the past three months was just for this!”

“How could you accuse me of that, Chuuya!” Dazai gasped with his hands flying over his heart. “I truly enjoyed watching you sing every night. Chuuya’s like a shining star on stage!”

Another vein popped out from Chuuya’s forehead. As much as he wanted to slam his fist into this man’s gut right here and now, he knew he couldn’t. They were in public, they had an image to keep up.

“So? What’s with those kids?” Chuuya snapped, changing the subject.

“Chuuya, even if they have eighth-grader syndrome with dreams of destroying the world, calling them kids is a bit—”

“I’m talking about those Hero kids,” Chuuya corrected. “The ones from U.A. You purposely led them here at this time and knew I would have no choice but to let them out the backdoor.”

“I did promise their principal to show them around Yokohama," Dazai smirked. “What kind of guide would I be if I didn’t let them enjoy Yokohama to the fullest?”

Chuuya snorted at the poor excuse. He didn’t care that Dazai didn't answer his question, as he already has a clue as to what that was about. After all, that person was doing his mission nearby. Although the chances of them accidentally running into one another were slim, if a certain scheming bastard manipulated this…

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Seven Months Ago—Port Mafia Headquarters

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  BOOOOOOOOOOM

The sounds of explosions resonated through the air, shaking the entire building as dark smoke stretched towards the night sky.

“Fire! Shoot it down!”  

“The barrier’s been damaged!”

“What are they doing?! Why isn’t the barrier restored yet?!”

“The system’s been jammed! We can’t operate it!”

"Another one's coming!"

"GET DOWN!!"

Within the darkness, a missile flew down from the sky, slicing through the wind as it aimed towards one of the five Port Mafia buildings. The missile slipped through the hole in the barrier the first missile had created, slamming into the side of the building as crimson flames erupted, followed by the sound of explosion.

Alarms echoed across the halls as sprinklers were immediately activated to put out the flames.

Men and women ran towards where the explosion had occurred to help put out the fire.

A man cloaked in black rushed down the hallway, his body almost becoming a blur as he flew down the stairs and arrived at the floors that had suffered the most from the explosion.

“Senpai!” a blond-haired woman gasped as she did her best to catch up to her superior. “Senpai! It’s too dangerous, please head back!” she shouted after him, but the man did not listen to her words.

The explosion had annihilated the hallways of three floors, but that wasn’t important at all. What’s important was the room at the end of the middle hallway.

He ran into the fire, one hand holding a cloth over his nose and mouth to protect his lungs from the heavy smoke. When he arrived at the room, his eyes flew wide at the metallic door that had been completely blasted off its hinge, distorted and leaning against the corner.

His cloak fluttered around him as he walked into the room. Silver eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings. Aside from one side of the wall completely blasted away by the explosion, the remainder of the room was pretty much undamaged.

The man looked over to the bed, then to the collection of large stuffed animal toys. Activating his Ability, black tendrils shot out of his coat, stabbing into the bed, toys, and closets—tearing everything apart.

The blond woman finally caught up, panting heavily as she walked into the room. She wasn’t given the time to take in what the room looked like before her eyes shifted to the missing wall where the outside world was visible to her eyes.

“Senpai!” She cried as the man whirled around, looking up to the sky where a giant whale was swimming beneath the sea of stars.

They were only able to see the barrier around the headquarters materialize for a split second before multiple explosions blasted over the surface of the barrier. For a minute straight, the barrier was engulfed in flames, casting crimson light upon those inside the building.

Everyone shielded their eyes as the barrier protected the building from being touched by the scorching flames. When the flames finally disappeared, all that was left was the crumbling pieces of the barrier. When the raven-haired man looked back up to the sky, the whale was gone.

“So this was what they were after.” The man gritted his teeth as he stormed out of the room, stepping over a framed TV in the process, completely shattering the screen under the pressure of his foot. “Higuchi, send out an order. They couldn’t have gotten far with Q. Send out all men to find Q and kill them on sight.”

“Yes!” The woman hurriedly did as she was told. She tapped onto the Bluetooth in her right ear and commanded, “Abandon all battle stations! Q has been captured by the Guild! All personnel are to find Q and kill on sight!!”

From another building identical to the one that had suffered from the bombing, a man in a black suit and a red scarf stared at the bright flames lighting up the night.

“Boss, please step away from the window! The barrier is gone, it’s dangerous!” the men around him fretted, but the brunet just waved them off.

“It’s fine. They can’t see anything from the outside.”

“But—” The men looked like they wanted to argue, but a sharp glare from their boss silenced them as they remembered their place.

“Boss.”

“Ah, ane-san.” Dazai smiled when he saw Kouyou speed walking over to him. The men surrounding him backed away, making room for their Executive.

“Where’s Chuuya?” She furrowed her brows, instantly noticing the lack of a petite redhead. Ever since Chuuya had become Dazai’s right-hand man, the two were barely ever seen being apart.

“Chuuya is checking on the barrier," Dazai replied. “Do you need something, ane-san?”

"The Guild has Q," Kouyou informed her boss with a grave look on her face. “Please follow me into the safe room until the situation is dealt with.”

“Ah-ah~” Dazai sighed, but obediently followed Kouyou down the hall with men surrounding the two as protection. “I leave the headquarters’ defense to Ryuunosuke-kun and this is the result. Looks like he’ll need some more discipline once the Guild’s been dealt with.”

“The missiles accurately targeted the room Q was confined in,” Kouyou frowned, not as easy going as her boss. “I’m afraid we may have a traitor amongst us.”

“Hm…” Dazai hummed, “There’s no need to worry, ane-san. I’m sure everything will work out.”

Kouyou glanced over her shoulder to her boss. Questions were swirling in her eyes, but the Executive kept her silence and continued leading the way. 

It was only after they began descending the spiral of stairs that she spoke again.

"The Guild has crossed the line by directly attacking us," Kouyou said as they arrived at the lowest floor. She waved off the men around them and led Dazai down a long hallway. “Do you still refuse to let us step in?”

“I told you, ane-san. Taking down the Guild is Atsushi-kun and Ryuunosuke-kun’s job,” Dazai said, stopping in front of a door. The two guards standing by the door bowed at his presence as Dazai’s fingers danced swiftly across the number pad.

After scanning his palm, the doors opened, one layer after another. The moment Dazai stepped inside, the doors slammed shut, clicking sounds echoing in the air as the locks were being put back into place.

Dazai strolled into the simple underground chamber. The most elaborate thing here was the bed and chandelier. He leaned over a handrail, humming as he gazed up at the chandelier hanging directly above his large bed. He should find some time to replace that obnoxious thing.

Dazai blinked, seeming slightly surprised before he stifled a small laugh.

“Four years ago, the first thing that would have come across my mind would be how perfect it is for hanging.” Dazai snorted at his own change as he walked to his bed and plopped onto the king-size mattress. Or perhaps he could sabotage the chandelier and have it fall on him while having a peaceful sleep.

“If you want to die that badly, I can come and finish you off,” a sarcastic voice came from the black Bluetooth in the Port Mafia boss’s ear. “How does the curb sound to you, shitty boss?”

“And leave Chuuya to become a widow?” Dazai smirked as he folded his hands behind his head. “I trust that you haven’t been caught?”

“Who the hell do you think I am?”

In the other building, a short man in a black suit and fedora kicked down the iron door. He emerged from his hiding spot with his hands tucked in his pockets. Despite the entire place being charred and dusty, there wasn’t a speck of dirt on his body.

“As if I’d get caught by that apprentice of yours,” Nahakara Chuuya snorted as he walked into the room that looked as if a beast had been rampaging in it. Everything that could hide a person had been violently torn apart and thrown onto the ground.

“Looks like I wasn’t needed,” he said, kicking away a small piece of cement by his feet. “But to think those bastards broke through the walls with just two missiles…!”

Chuuya clicked his teeth. Even if this was planned by Dazai, he didn’t like it one bit. The outer layer of the building was specially made to withstand at least sixty consecutive missiles! And for the protection barrier around the headquarters to be so easily blasted apart was another issue.

“It’s not surprising that their weapons are more advanced than ours. They don’t have a city like Yokohama to protect them in America, so the developments of their technologies are solely focused on weapons,” Dazai hummed, “Though they were still discovered and hunted for human experimentation.”

Chuuya frowned at that. He has heard of too many similar stories in the outside world.

Despite the seemingly peaceful relationship they have with Japan, the rest of the world treated Old Humans very differently. For one, the knowledge of Old Humans isn’t known to the whole world. Their existence had always been top secret in Japan and kept from the rest of the world. It’s only in the last century that it was no longer a state secret.

As society became more and more stable, there were always curious eyes turned towards the mysterious city. So occasionally, Yokohama would invite a selected few inside, allowing only one to walk back out and deliver information.

This was the only way to get those nosy governments to get rid of any weird ideas about Yokohama—like reclaiming it for example. By showing Yokohama as a threat, the Japanese government wouldn’t move recklessly, especially when they still have the issue of Villains. They couldn’t afford to create another enemy, and as long as they are left alone, Yokohama has no intention of waging war against them.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for other countries. Without a base to protect them, once discovered, Old Humans will easily be captured. Abilities are extremely rare and even if they were powerful, they cannot fight while protecting a whole community.

“If that’s the case, then won’t they blast the entire city to the ground?”

“They won’t,” Dazai replied with certainty, “Even if their technology in weaponry is a tad higher than ours, Fitzgerald isn’t stupid enough to think we won’t have a countermeasure against large scale attacks. And even if he is, he knows he won’t find what he’s looking for if the entire city is gone.”

Chuuya walked over to the open wall. He leaned forward, poking his head out a little so he could see the state of things below. Blue eyes sharply trailed over each man and their positions before the redhead leaned back and glanced to a torn blanket lying on the ground not far away.

“So who were the ones that took Q?” Dazai asked cheerfully. Chuuya was sure the other knew already, but responded anyway.

“It’s the two that engaged with that other apprentice of yours,” Chuuya said as he took out a small booklet from his pocket and flipped through the pages. “John Steinbeck and Howard Phillips Lovecraft. So far, we still can’t figure out what Ability the second guy has.”

“Then perhaps it’s not an Ability at all.”

“You mean he’s a Quirk user?” Chuuya didn’t believe it. After all, if that man was a Quirk user, he wouldn’t have slipped through the barrier.

“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead could hear the smirk behind his boss’s lips. “After tonight, they won’t be relevant.”

Chuuya didn’t ask what that meant as he picked up the cotton blanket and headed back towards the edge. Crimson light coated his body as Chuuya activated his Ability. With a stomp of his feet, the floor beneath his feet caved in. Chuuya threw the blanket around his body as he fell towards the ground.

The sight of the baby blue blanket falling attracted the attention of the men stationed nearby. They raised their guns and circled the blanket that had a bulge in the middle. One of the men stepped forward, gripping the corner of the blanket and ripping it away only to find that it was a piece of concrete.

To be sure, the men searched around the area. After making sure there wasn't anything suspicious, they returned to their posts.

Perched on a nearby tree, a certain Executive watched the sight with narrowed eyes.

“Bunch of morons. I’ll deal with them after this is over,” he muttered darkly before he turned and darted off. He easily made it across the street, undetected by the Port Mafia underlings that were on watch.

The more of them he successfully evaded, the more the redhead felt his blood boil. It seemed their training had been too lax. He'll need to have a long talk with Kouyou about creating a new program after this entire mess got cleaned up.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a quick scan of his fingerprint, the phone lit up with a map on the screen. Chuuya stared at the blinking red dot that was rapidly approaching. He looked towards that direction just in time to catch a blur of white darting across the street before it was gone.

“Dazai.”

“Yes, love?” Dazai’s voice whispered gently into his ear.

“If this plan of yours doesn’t work, I will kill Q.”

“Of course.”

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Present

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 “Who are you?” the child asked as mismatched eyes looked at the group of twenty people standing there.

They were all stunned at the sight of such a young girl—or perhaps a boy? Either way, this didn’t seem to be a place where they would find a child.

They automatically looked around, hoping to find the kid’s parents, but couldn’t see another soul in sight.

“We’re just some people who are a bit lost,” Uraraka laughed as she crouched down to get to the child’s height. “What about you? Where’s your mom and dad?”

“Mom and dad?” the child hummed, needing to take some time to think over that question before smiling back at them. “I don’t have one.”

“E-eh?” Uraraka’s jaw dropped. This was an answer neither she nor her classmates had expected. She frantically waved her hands as guilt consumed her. “I’m so sorry! I-I had no idea!”

"Sorry?" the child tested the word as if it was something foreign to them. "Why?"

Uraraka blinked as her hands stopped in midair.

Why? Why what?

However, she couldn’t ask that, as she had already stepped on a landmine. Fortunately, Asui came up to save her.

“Do you have anyone looking after you?” she questioned with a finger to her lips.

“I do!” the child chirped brightly, but then saddened as they slowly swung their legs back and forth. “But I got lost…”

“Do you know their phone number?” Iida asked, already pulling out his phone, “I’ll call them for you.”

“I don’t know...” the child replied, looking unconcerned over not remembering their guardian’s contact number. “But it’s fine! He’ll find me. He always does!”

Everyone exchanged looks. They were all skeptical about this. During their way to the bar, the latter half of their trip was void of any people. No matter how they looked at it, this area was filled with factories and warehouses. Why in the world was there a child so young here all alone in the middle of the night?

Didn’t anyone know how dangerous it was?

"Maybe his dad brought him to the bar or something and forgot about him," Mineta whispered, only to be stabbed in the eyeball by an earphone jack.

"Let's wait around for a bit," Midoriya suggested. “Maybe his guardian is looking around for him.”

"Ah…there goes our curfew time," Kaminari whined jokingly. He understood that finding this kid's guardian takes priority over everything else. He looked around the empty street, “What if they never show up?”

"We can always call the police afterward," Tokoyami stated.

Midoriya walked up to the child and knelt in front of them with the friendliest smile he could muster. "My name is Midoriya Izuku, what’s your name?”

“I’m Kyuusaku!” the kid replied. Those symbol-carrying eyes looked Midoriya up and down, scanning over his body before the kid brightened even more. “You’re the one that broke your arms and legs!”

Arms and legs?

Midoriya recalled the foreigner he met when he was handing out the flyers earlier today. “You watched the Sports Festival?”

Everyone was surprised, but then remembered that the people here had access to the outside channels.

“So you watch the Sports Festival!” Kaminari laughed as he crouched down in front of the kid and pointed at himself. “Then do you remember me?”

Kyuusaku shook his head, still smiling so brightly that Kaminari didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“….Don’t mind," Asui patted his shoulder.

"Did you enjoy the Sports festival?" Jirou asked.

Kyuusaku nodded, “It looked really fun! I wish I could play too…”

“Oh! Do you wish to become a Hero in the future?” Iida asked excitedly.

“Hero?” Kyuusaku blinked. They stared at Iida with wide eyes before the child suddenly burst out into laughter, as if Iida had spoken the most hilarious joke they’ve ever heard. “No way!”

Everyone just stared at the child in confusion, then to each other. None of them were able to understand the joke.

“Big brother, do you like Stain?” Kyuusaku asked, mismatched eyes locking onto Iida.

Everyone froze at the name none of them had expected to hear coming out of this kid's mouth. They automatically looked towards Iida, whose face had darkened at the memories of the Villain flickering through his mind.

“Of course we don’t like Stain!” Sero exclaimed, drawing the kid’s attention to him. “He’s a bad guy!”

“Bad guy?” Kyuusaku tilted their head cutely. “Why?”

“Because he does bad things," Sato explained.

“Like what?” the kid pushed on, not noticing the discomfort the teenagers were feeling. There was only pure curiosity on the child’s face.

“Well, like—” Kirishima swiftly caught himself and stopped talking. He couldn’t possibly talk about killing in front of a kid, but even without the redhead saying it out loud, the child already knew the answer.

Kyuusaku smiled at the redhead and finished the words for him. “Like killing?”

Everyone stared at the child who had spoken of killing with such a happy expression.

"Yes…like killing," Yaoyorozu said slowly, eyes darting to her classmates.

“But don’t Heroes kill people too?” Kyuusaku then asked.

“Of course not! Heroes don’t kill people!” Midoriya defended.

At that, Kyuusaku looked genuinely confused as they turned to Midoriya. “So when Heroes fight Villains, they hold back their strength?”

“Well, no—”

“So you don’t hold back?” the boy asked, not even bothering to wait for Sato to finish.

"When Heroes fight, we use our strength to save people," Iida told the boy. "It's not about holding back or not."

“So you fight with all your strength?” Kyuusaku giggled. “Then how do you know you won’t kill the bad people?”

Some of the students opened their mouths but found that they couldn't answer the question.

"I saw a bad person die on TV. He died when fighting Heroes." Kyuusaku told them, still smiling.

“That’s not killing,” Todoroki tried to explain.

“But someone died?”

"Yes, but those are accidents," Shouji told the boy. “It couldn’t be helped. In a fight against Villains, there are always innocent bystanders getting caught in between. A Hero’s job is to—”

“But killing is killing,” the kid stated. “No matter what reason it is, you still killed someone.”

“Kyuusaku-chan…do you like Stain?” Yaoyorozu couldn't help but ask. The child's thought process was so…well, weird. How could a child talk about killing so easily? No, it’s because they’re a child that they didn’t understand the gravity of what their words meant. Considering the amount of influence the Hero Killer brought, Yaoyorozu wouldn't be surprised if Kyuusaku, much like many others in Japan, could understand Stain’s motive.

She wasn’t the only one thinking this way. Everyone else was expecting the kid to answer yes, given the conversation they just had. But to everyone’s surprise, the warm smile on Kyuusaku’s face dropped for the first time. On that kid’s face was an expression of pure confusion as those large eyes blinked up at them.

"No," Kyuusaku answered, as if it should be obvious. “He’s just a murderer that needed excuses to kill people. Why would I like him?”

Kyuusaku’s voice and tone were purely innocent. There was no mockery, no laughter…nothing. The child’s voice only held confusion over why they even asked that.

Everyone was taken back by the child’s response. Never had they heard anyone describe Stain like that. When Stain’s name first came around, the only things discussed were his actions and the current state of Heroes. There had been many debates over whether or not Stain’s actions were right, but so blatantly calling Stain a murderer was…something else.

“Kyuusaku-chan, what do you mean by that?” Asui asked with a frown on her lips.

“Isn’t it true though?” Kyuusaku jumped down from the bench and landed onto their feet. A bright smile lifted the corner of their lips. “He just wants to kill, yet he justified his actions by making a grand excuse. Isn’t that funny?”

“Justified…?” Midoriya stared at Kyuusaku. What is this kid even talking about?

The rest of the class wasn’t doing any better. They stared at the kid strangely as if they couldn’t understand the words coming from the kid’s mouth. This was no longer weird—it wasn’t normal.

“Hey, let’s play a game!” Kyuusaku suddenly changed the topic as they walked up to the U.A students. “I haven’t played a game in a long time! Won’t you play with me?”

Midoriya opened and closed his mouth. He was still trying to wrap his head around what this child had just said.

“S-sure, what do you want to play?” Hagakure hurriedly asked when the silence dragged on for a bit too long.

Everyone was now looking at the child weirdly. There was something not right with this kid. Despite that, none of them saw Kyuusaku as a threat. What they were beginning to worry about was this child’s environment.

Just what kind of environment gave the child such a skewed viewpoint? Kyuusaku did say they don’t have parents, but what about the guardian? Was this child perhaps neglected?

Many of them were already compensating on whether or not to call the police, but then Kyuusaku spoke.

“Let’s play tag!”

“Oh! Tag! That’s a great game!” Sero laughed, trying to brighten the weird tension in the air. “I’m super good at tag!”

“We can play in that park!” Ashido said, pointing to the park right next to them. Even if there weren’t any cars around, playing on the street was still dangerous.

“Alright! Who will be it?” Kaminari asked as he looked around.

“What’s an it?” Kyuusaku suddenly asked, causing everyone to look at the child in surprise.

“Kyuusaku-chan, have you not played tag before?” Asui asked carefully.

The young child shook their head, “I’ve only seen other people play it.”

“…I haven’t either.” Todoroki suddenly spoke up, frowning as he looked at the child.

Everyone stared between Todoroki and Kyuusaku while Midoriya’s eyes widened.

He looked over to the young kid. Could it be that this child had a similar childhood to Todoroki? No, rather than saying it's similar, it's more like…

“The it is the person that catches the other people," Ojiro explained as he walked up to crouch by the child. "They catch people by tapping them. If you get tagged by the it, you’re out.”

“What happens when you’re out?” Kyuusaku asked.

“Then you have to sit and wait until the it catches everyone. After that, the game restarts.” Tokoyami finished the explanation.

“Then I want to be it!” Kyuusaku said happily before reaching their hand out and tapping Ojiro on the shoulder. “You’re out!”

No one bothered to correct the child on how they should be given time to run. The moment Kyuusaku announced this, everyone ran off, squealing and giggling like little kids. Ojiro just laughed as he scratched his cheek, not minding how quickly he got thrown out of the game.

“Do I have to run after them?” Kyuusaku blinked as they watched the older kids run away.

“Yes, if you want to catch them?” Ojiro replied unsurely. "You don't like to run?"

"No, it's just running hurts," Kyuusaku replied. They didn’t sound sad or anything…just stating a fact.

Ojiro’s eyes automatically dropped to the child’s legs. Since the kid was wearing shorts, he was able to get a good look at slender legs lacking any form of muscle. Aside from the kid being a little thin, there didn't seem to be anything wrong. Maybe they sprained their ankle? Was that why they were sitting on a bench?

Believing that he had found the answer, Ojiro turned to his classmates who were scattered on the grass. They hadn’t gone far and were all waiting for the child to begin chasing them.

“Come on, Kyuusaku-chan!” Uraraka called as she waved her hand at them.

“Guys!” Ojiro called, successfully grabbing their attention.

“What’s wrong, man?” Kirishima asked, about to walk up when he stepped on a tiny twig lying in the grass.

Snap

“…!”

Ojiro heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. He turned and saw Kyuusaku standing there, trembling with wide eyes locked on Kirishima. Those irises were dilated and unsteady…there were even droplets of sweats rolling down the kid’s face despite how chilly the night was.

Those small hands were gripping onto his doll so tightly that they were shaking and white around the knuckles.

“Kyuusaku…?” Ojiro called out gently, but the kid didn’t even seem to have heard him. Their breathing was growing faster and faster. The time between each breath was also getting dangerously short, to the point where Ojiro thought they might hyperventilate.

The other kids noticed this as well and they all began to run over. Their footsteps thundered across the grass and somewhere amongst those footsteps, another twig snapped, causing the boy to completely freeze in place, his breathing stopped altogether.

“Kyuusaku?” Ojiro reached out both hands and grabbed the child’s forearms, hoping to snap the kid out of whatever shock they were in. The moment his hands made contact, he felt something very wrong. There were multiple hard objects under his palms sinking into the kid’s arms from the pressure of his grip.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!”

Kyuusaku suddenly let out an ear-piercing scream, pushing Ojiro away and stumbled back, clutching onto the doll even tighter.

“NOOO!!!” They shrieked, voice cracking as pale fingers sank into the fabric of the doll, pulling on the surface of the fabric so hard that some of the white stuffing was being squeezed out. “NO! NO! NOOOO!!!”

“Kyuusaku-chan?!” Yaoyorozu wanted to approach, but was afraid she might agitate the child even more.

“What’s wrong?” Midoriya spoke loudly, hoping his voice could be heard through the child’s screams.

“IT’s aLL YouR fAuLt!!” Kyuusaku screamed, face morphing into what could only be described as pure malice. The doll trapped in his grip was beginning to move, but no one noticed as their eyes were all locked on the child’s face.

“I’LL cUrsE yOU! I’ll CURSE—!!”

“Q!!”

A voice bellowed from the distance, causing Kyuusaku to freeze up.

For a long moment, nobody could move. They all stared at Kyuusaku with cold sweat rolling down their faces.

What…what was that?

What exactly was that?

The sound of footsteps slowly brought the students back. One by one, they turned around to see a person emerging from the dark alleyway. He was covered in a long, black leather coat with white fur around the base of his collar.

Silvery white hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as the person slowly stepped into the light. They couldn’t see much of his face, as half of it was covered by his coat’s tall collar, but the way those golden eyes seemed to glow in the dim streetlight was unnerving.

He looked young… not much older than Class 1-A.

“A…Atsushi!” Kyuusaku seemed terrified as they clenched onto the old doll.

"What were you going to do, Q?" the white-haired boy questioned.

“I-I wasn’t doing anything!” Kyuusaku gasped, sounding desperate as they ran up to the young man. They reached out a small hand and gripped onto his black coat. “I wasn’t, so—”

When those golden eyes narrowed, Kyuusaku swallowed down the rest of the words. They clutched the doll tighter to their chest and spoke in a desperate voice.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again! So…don’t leave me!”

The white-haired boy’s gaze softened a little before shifting to the students.

“Thank you for taking care of this child. I apologize for the trouble,” he said, nodding in their direction before turning to leave.

“Wait!”

Upon being called, the man stopped and turned around. His golden eyes met with Midoriya’s green ones.

“Are you…” Midoriya hesitated, eyes darting down to Kyuusaku then back to the stranger. “Kyuusaku’s guardian?”

“I am,” the other replied naturally. That didn’t seem to be a lie…and from how Kyuusaku interacted with this man, he was most likely the child’s guardian. However, it was precisely because of this that Midoriya needed to stop them.

"Do you have any identification to prove that you're that child's guardian?" Iida asked, looking at the man with a face full of distrust.

No matter how they looked at it, that interaction just now wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a conversation any ordinary kid would have with their guardian. Kyuusaku was terrified of this man, yet the way they still begged not to be thrown aside was raising red flags in all of their heads.

The images of Kyuusaku’s crazed look were still fresh in their minds, but that only fueled their desire and need to protect this young child. Anyone could tell by now that the kid’s mental stability wasn’t, well, stable. The cause may very well be this person right there.

 “Proof?” The man raised a fine brow as those golden eyes shifted to Iida. The moment their eyes met, Iida felt a droplet of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He didn’t know why, but something wasn’t right with this person.

“…There is no need for me to prove anything to you,” the white-haired boy said calmly. He turned again and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Kirishima called, but the other didn’t stop. He just kept on walking with Kyuusaku by his side.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!” Bakugou roared. He knew he needed to stop them. Something wasn’t right about that guy. He couldn’t let him take the kid. “We’re not done speaking!”

“Don’t yell at Atsushi!” Kyuusaku suddenly spun around and shouted. Those eyes were glaring murderously at Bakugou who stopped in his tracks.

Bakugou was stunned. He couldn’t understand why the kid would defend this man who terrified them like that.

“Q, we’re leaving,” the boy known as Atsushi called. He didn’t look back and continued to walk away, not caring about the group of teenagers behind him.

Kyuusaku ran back to his side, one hand gripping onto the older boy’s jacket as they walked down the abandoned street. From the shadow of the alleyway Atsushi had emerged from, a dagger soundlessly slid back into its sheath as a figure slowly stepped back and vanished into the darkness.

Class 1-A could only watch as the young man and the child disappeared from their sight. None of them were able to stop them.

“We…we have to call sensei!” Aoyama all but screamed after they lost sight of the pair.

“No matter how you look at it, that’s not normal,” Jirou agreed.

“I’m calling right now!” Iida was way ahead of his classmates as he opened his phone, pausing at the contact list. Who should they call? Their teachers? But their teachers were outsiders as well, would they be able to do anything?

So Iida chose the most obvious choice and clicked on Kunikida’s contact. The blond man was the one they were most familiar with. Iida was certain he could save Kyuusaku.

“What’s wrong, Ojiro?” Shouji asked when he noticed Ojiro was still sitting on the floor, the same position he had been in since Kyuusaku pushed him away.

Ojiro didn’t reply, his head dipped low as he stared down at his own hands. When everyone else looked to his hands, they paled at the sight of red fluid covering both of his palms.

“Ojiro-kun! What happened to your hands?!” Midoriya was horrified by the amount of blood that was there.

“It’s not my blood!” Ojiro explained, voice quivering slightly. "When Kyuusaku was screaming, I tried to get him to calm down and gripped his arms, I—"

Ojiro was quickly calming down as he recalled the feeling of what he felt underneath the child’s sleeves. Whatever those were, they were sharp and all over the kid’s arms. No, rather, it felt like his hands were the ones that made those sharp objects sink into the child's flesh.

He quickly explained that to the others.

“Back then…Kyuusaku said that running hurts.” Ojiro felt sick as he finally realized what was wrong. It wasn’t the child’s legs that were hurting, it was his upper body that was hidden beneath his coat. “We have to find him, he might be in danger!”

They should have realized sooner just how incongruent everything about Kyuusaku was!

“Kunikida-san?” Iida spoke and everyone turned to see him on the phone with Kunikida. “We need help! There’s a child and— where are we? Uh…” Iida began looking around, but couldn’t see any road signs indicating their location.

“I know!” Kaminari said as he fumbled with the paper map he used to lead them to the bar.

Iida turned the phone to speaker mode and turned it towards his classmate.

“We’re on—!” Before Kaminari could say the address, Kunikida began to speak.

“That’s alright, I can see where you are on the map,” the blond stated from the other end. “I am not going to start with why all of you are even there. You have forty minutes to come back. I won’t be explaining to your teachers if you miss your curfew time.”

“Kunikida-san! There’s a kid that’s hurt and got taken away by a strange man!” Ashido explained.

“He could be a human trafficker!” Aoyama joined in the background.

“A kid was taken by a strange man?” They could all hear the frown on Kunikida’s face. “By force?”

“No, they walked away together but—” Todoroki tried to pipe in, but was interrupted by Kunikida.

“Forget it.”

“Eh?” Ashido blinked, as if unable to believe she had heard right. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I meant.” Kunikida said on the other end. “If you don’t know how to get back, stay put. I’ll come to get you.”

“Wait!” Midoriya yelled. “There’s an injured child who might be in danger!”

A sigh came from the other end of the line.

“Yokohama is not the outside world,” Kunikida reminded the group. “Don't stick your nose into places where it doesn't belong.”

“That’s got nothing to do with anything!” Bakugou shouted. “Did you not hear a fucking word we said?! There’s a kid—”

“And I’m telling you to forget about this kid,” the man sighed “Use your brains, would any ordinary kid appear in such an isolated place so late at night?"

“That’s why we need to help!” Yaoyorozu said, as if it was the most obvious thing. “Something isn’t right and that child could be in danger! He’s bleeding!”

Another sigh. “You know what, this is going nowhere. Just stay there and don’t move around. I’m coming to pick you up.”

Click

Just like that, Kunikida hung up, leaving the kids staring in shock and disbelief.

“What the fuck?!” Bakugou hollered, voicing out everyone’s thoughts in three short words.

Iida gritted his teeth, hands gripping tightly onto his phone before he began dialing again.

“What are you doing?” Tokoyami asked.

“The police!” Iida answered, typing in the numbers before putting the phone over his ear. He reached the helpline fairly quickly. Everyone watched hopefully as Iida explained the situation to the operator.

“It’s Kyuusaku, sir!” Iida said into the phone. “Surname? I don’t know...gender? A boy maybe? No, I don’t know for sure—we just met in the park!”

Iida seemed to be panicking as he struggled to converse with the other side. Everyone just watched as his responses grew weaker and weaker.

“Well, yes, that person claimed to be their guardian but—…yes…yes…they left together.” After that, Iida didn’t say anything. He just waited for the other side to finish before he slowly pulled the phone away from his ear.

“They…” Iida opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could finally utter the words. “They said they can’t do anything.”

“What…do you mean?” Uraraka asked. “A child’s being taken—”

“Kyuusaku-kun walked away by himself," Iida told everyone. "And that person said he’s Kyuusaku-kun’s guardian. The operator said the police won’t get involved unless we can provide proof that he was being taken away against his will.”

“What?!” Ashido was outraged. “What kind of response is that?!”

“How can…are we just going to let it happen?!” Sato spluttered.

For the first time since arriving, the kids felt the malice within Yokohama. This was wrong! This whole city was wrong! How could they all turn a blind eye to someone—a child — that needed help? No matter how they looked at it, it’s just not normal!

“I’m going.” Midoriya suddenly announced.

“Deku-kun?!” Uraraka gasped.

“Kyuusaku needs help, and I can’t turn a blind eye to it,” he said as his hands rolled into tight fists. Questions flooded through his mind as he kept replaying their conversation with Kunikida.

Why?

Why did he refuse to help even when there was someone in need of help? Wasn’t the Armed Detective Agency there to help people?

Midoriya didn’t understand, but one thing that’s clear was that no one was going to save Kyuusaku.

“It might be dangerous!” Aoyama whimpered. “Kunikida-san told us to stay put, and we can’t use our Quirks!”

“I’m just going to follow them and find out where they went,” Midoriya explained. “If I can find their location, then we can call the police and have them do something, right?”

“That’s true,” Sero agreed. “They want proof right? If they go take a look for themselves I’m sure they’ll find something wrong!”

“But you saw how Kyuusaku-chan defended that person,” Yaoyorozu pointed out.

“We can’t just do nothing!” Ojiro was the most affected by the situation due to the child’s blood staining his hands.

“I agree with Midoriya,” Todoroki said. “I’m going as well.”

“I’m coming too!” Bakugou announced, still grinding his teeth in irritation at the thought of that man. “There’s something off about that guy.”

“You guys can’t all go! You’ll get found out!” Hagakure said as she pulled off her gloves and threw them onto the floor. “How about this, I’ll go with Midoriya-kun! Since they can’t see me, I can scout the area without getting seen!”

“But your Quirk—” Sato began, only to get cut off.

“I’m not using my Quirk! I’m just naturally like this!”

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. 

“I’ll go with them!” Jirou said. “Even if I can’t use my quirk, I can still hear better than average people.”

“I’ll go with you too,” Shouji walked over to Midoriya. “If anything happens, I can take everyone and run.”

“Then I’ll—” Kirishima also wanted to volunteer, but was stopped by Bakugou.

“Any more and the enemy will notice, stupid,” he pointed out.

“We have enemies now?” the blond gaped.

“Thank you, Shouji-kun, Hagakure-san, Jirou-san,” Midoriya thanked the three. He knew he was being selfish, and he knew that it was going to be dangerous. Whoever that white haired male was, Midoriya could tell he wasn’t anyone ordinary.

Everyone else knew as well, that’s why none of them could turn a blind eye to Kyuusaku’s situation.

“Fifteen minutes,” Iida finally gritted out. Anyone could tell he strongly disapproved of it, but he also wanted to save Kyuusaku more than anyone else. “If you don’t come back in fifteen minutes, we will call the teachers and Kunikida-san.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya nodded.

“Here, take this phone.” Yaoyorozu held out her phone. “It seems there are trackers on the phone for Kunikida-san to find us. I’ve turned off the sound just in case. If anything happens, we can find you.”

“Thank you, Yaoyorozu,” Jirou said as she took the phone.

Ashido also handed the phone she carried to Hagakure, while Midoriya and Shouji took out their own phones and muted them.

“Don’t do anything dangerous, ok?” Uraraka told them.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you guys know it!” Hagakure said cheerfully, though no one could see her aside from the pair of shoes still on her feet.

Just like that, the four of them took off, running towards where the man had disappeared off to with Kyuusaku.

As the rest of the class watched them go, Asui let out a small croak from the back of her throat and looked up to the cloudy sky. A cold droplet of water came out of nowhere and fell onto her left cheek.

“Gero?”

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[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch6

Cause...

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

Word count - 3,214

A quick note - I have gotten a few requests for permission to create fan art of this fic. This goes out to all of you - Go nuts. I'm honored that anyone gets inspired by my work and I will never have a problem with someone being creative. I'd love to see anything you guys make, but if you aren't comfortable I still want you to do it. Have fun :)

__________

You sighed as the last patient left the room, alone at last. Thoughts raced through your mind, whizzing like Mentos in a bottle of Coke. Too much happened today, you needed the chance to process and assess.

First of all, you outright lied to your boss. You risked your career, your reputation and integrity, and for what? Why did you do such an idiotic thing? It made no sense, but it was quickly becoming a pattern. First the hidden sketch, then the incomplete notes regarding your sessions, and now this. What was wrong with you?

Second, walking in on V’s…

You pursed your lips as blood rushed to your face. Even thinking about it made you feel like an idiot.

Third, the artist’s behavior with the other patients. You’d imagined a variety of possibilities for the session, but not once had you pictured him teaching, showing patience and compassion. The man seemed limitless in his ability to surprise you.

However, you struggled to believe the moment was genuine after the wink. Was he only putting on an act for your benefit? If so, why?

If his goal was to convince you of his stability the wink was a stupid choice, and V was anything but stupid. Had he simply meant it as a playful gesture, a manifestation of your strange relationship? Unlikely, but possible. His version of an inside joke, perhaps.

Or he may have only wanted to throw you off. He loved playing mind games, after all. It would fit what you knew of him so far, but something still felt off about the exchange. None of the scenarios brought you any comfort or reassurance.

Fourth on your list of weird things that happened today; his painting. Since several others already saw it, there was no chance you could keep it from his file. All you could do was cross your fingers and hope Malphas didn’t read into it too much.

You glanced at it every few seconds as you gathered the used brushes and rinsed away the paint, scrubbing at the palettes until they returned to their pristine white. He truly was gifted, there was no denying that. Even with your limited understanding of art, his skill was obvious.

But that wasn’t why you couldn’t stop looking at it.

No, that was due to the subject of his work. You took another look as you set the supplies aside to dry, searching for insights into his thoughts. Any detail might prove crucial to his treatment, regardless of what the image made you feel.

It wasn’t your job to feel; only to treat.

He’d created a sunset over a grey building, windows dripping with what could only be blood. Barren trees and wilted grass framed a narrow stone path, a pair of bats in mid-flight between their desolate branches. Every stroke led the eye to the two figures traversing the scene, their likenesses too familiar to ignore.

Kotomi’s form featured energetic shades of scarlet, evocative of rage and hatred. A sickly green hue replaced the normal chocolate shade of her almond eyes and a cruel grin twisted her lips. She resembled a demon or a monster from an old myth. Devoid of her usual radiance and beauty, leaving only spite and fury behind.

Beside her stood a figure that could only be yours. Even with her face turned away, it was clear from the hairstyle and clothing. Unlike with Kotomi, V used vivid purples and blues to create your image. He’d taken the time to use a finer brush, adding details ignored in all other areas. The gentleness of his strokes stunned you, but not as much as the tiny orb of black resting right where your heart lied.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Yet the most disturbing aspect of the image was the tightly clenched fist in the foreground, ebony lines running from knuckle to wrist. V’s hand, without a doubt. There, his technique shifted to an almost surreal level of intentional distortion. No other word suited the twisted lines or the overly bony fingers.

Is this from the night he had that episode? Did he see me and Kotomi leaving? How? He should’ve been restrained still!

You pursed your lips and unhooked the canvas, laying it on the counter to dry. There was no doubt it was you, the pattern of the shirt matched what you wore that day.

Is it possible that’s what triggered his episode? But why? Why would that make him angry?

You told yourself he envied your freedom, but the thought rang with falseness. The truth was there, plain for all to see in his work if they only knew what to look for. Why else would he paint you and Kotomi so differently?

Yet you refused to allow the words to form in your head.

Denial had its uses.

Over the next few days, you tried to keep from thinking about the painting. It was in the system and out of your control, only time would tell what consequences waited for you, if any. There was nothing to gain from thinking on it further.

Despite your best efforts, it snuck its way into your mind more than once. how could it not? It was stunning work.

In your daily private sessions, the artist created new pieces to add to his growing file. Scenes of carnage and mayhem, death and disaster. Each featured himself or Griffon, but never any others. No new details. Relief at not finding yourself his subject again mixed with disappointment at the lack of new information with every scanned image.

Today was no exception.

The page in your hands displayed the man himself swimming in red with an angelic smile. You sighed as the door to your office clicked shut as Kevin took V back to his quarters yet again. If the man just talked, this would be so much easier, but he refused to answer any questions about his past.

Maybe he’s not as interesting as I thought…

You pursed your lips. It was too early to jump to conclusions. He needed more time to develop trust, that’s all. You just had to be patient.

A harsh ping broke your reverie as an email notification lit your screen. The sender marked it as top priority and you clicked on the tab; maybe this could keep you busy for a while. A new patient? Changes to protocol?

Oh, no… it’s from Malphas.

He knows! Shit!

It was foolish to imagine he wouldn’t notice. What were you thinking, allowing it to get this far? Honestly, the man wasn’t even that interesting. He certainly wasn’t worth your career, not after so many years in medical school. Plus, you still owed thousands of dollars in student loans. You couldn’t afford to be set back, too much was at stake.

Calm down! Think it through, come on!

Your heartbeat raced as you read the message again, just to be sure. It wouldn’t do to overreact.

Do I need to be concerned about the nature of your relationship with your patient?

It was phrased as a question. All Malphas had was the painting, he probably didn’t have a clue about the rest. You’d been careful, nobody except you and V knew about the other sketches or the incident before the first group session. By the time Kevin entered the room, the artist was fully covered and the orderly was the least observant person you’d ever known.

It wasn’t too late.

Your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing a suitable response in moments. Everything rode on how well you covered your ass today; a single wrong word and you were done for.

Absolutely not. The patient is developing an attachment to me, but I assure you I remain nothing but professional. I will not allow the patient’s stance to interfere with treatment.

A sour taste filled your mouth. The lies kept getting worse, but what else could you do? Besides, he was making progress. It was worth it to restore him, right?

It had to be.

You waited a few minutes to hit send; it might be suspicious if you replied more quickly than usual. What a mess, to even need to consider such a ridiculous deception.

Well, at least I’m not bored.

A snort split your pursed lips and you leaned back in your chair. The first pulses of a tension headache brought your hands to your temples, rubbing away the pain. The last one was years ago, back in med school.

In a way, you enjoyed it. The pain and panic shattered the torturous disinterest you normally felt. Not the most pleasant shift, but a shift nonetheless. You’d take what you could get.

Another ding signaled a response. Your eyes fluttered open to read.

I thought so, but I had to ask. It’s protocol, after all. If it becomes an issue I can assign the patient to a different doctor, but until then keep up the good work!

The pain vanished and the void of disinterest returned, the danger now resolved. You released a deep grown of frustration and tried to reignite the embers of strife, but it was too late.

---V---

The artist swallowed the now familiar capsule with a grimace. What a joke, to think a mere few milligrams could transform him into a mindless sheep. There was no caging the wolf within, not now.

Not ever again.

All he needed to do was escape, then his masterpiece could finally be completed. The thought flooded his senses with delight, joy so profound a bark of laughter spilled from his lips.

Soon…

By his count, a full week had passed since his first group session. Any minute now, Kevin would collect him for round two and he’d finally get to test his theory. If all went smoothly, he might be free by the end of the day.

Only if the circumstances align. Don’t let your impatience ruin everything.

“Yes, Vergil. Any mistakes and all is lost.”

Do not fail me.

He swallowed at the threatening tone in the man’s voice. The consequences of falling short were dire, he knew that. The restraints would return and he’d likely be barred from future group sessions. He may never leave his small quarters again. Never be allowed to touch a paintbrush again.

Unacceptable.

So, he needed to be cautious. Meticulous in his planning. Flawless in execution and creative when something inevitably went wrong. Even the finest plans fell apart at first contact with the enemy, after all. Haste would spell his doom.

Familiar shuffling steps heralded Kevin’s arrival and V smirked, stepping to the door to meet him with arms held at the ready for the ever-present cuffs.

“Hello, Kevin. How’s your family?”

Over the last several days, he made it a point to gain the orderlies trust. It wasn’t hard, considering how straightforward he was. A question here, a comment there…

“Doing good! Sarah starts kindergarten next week, we’re taking her out to celebrate this weekend.”

The metal clicked into place and the artist followed the other man to the security gate. “Wonderful! I imagine she’s excited.”

Kevin chuckled as the guard buzzed them past, barely paying attention to his surroundings. Throughout the elevator ride and the short walk to the group room, V chatted about meaningless drivel as if nothing else mattered. He was grateful the journey didn’t take long, otherwise he might’ve lost his patience and choked the fool.

And then there you were, smiling as you spotted him.

His progress with you was much slower. It needed to be, considering how much he planned to ask of you. If he rushed the process, you wouldn’t survive. After all his careful conditioning this far, the idea alone set his teeth on edge.

“Hi, V. Kevin. Come on in,” you said.

“Hello, Dr. Waras. Are we the first again?” he replied.

You nodded and gestured at the trio of easels, as if he needed encouragement. Enough pleasantries.

The itch returned to his fingers as Kevin brought over an assortment of supplies. Plain white canvas begged for his touch, the surface naked without his work. Lightness spread through his chest and his breath hitched, mind already racing with ideas.

Ken and Kelly arrived moments later, taking the same spots as last week. The round woman looked as bleak as ever, unwashed and lethargic. Her eyes didn’t meet his once as she sat and waited for her supplies. Truly, a waste of space if ever he saw one. He turned to Ken instead.

“Hello, Ken.”

He met the man’s eyes with a slight smile, forcing his face to display honesty and welcome. Even with only an hour of experience around him, V knew Ken didn’t trust easily. Subtlety was his only hope of success.

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s get started. Today I want you to paint the first thing you think of when I say the word ‘flight’.”

Quite a different prompt from last week.

No kidding. She’s playin’ it safe, Van Gogh.

He ignored them, still focused on Ken. The man stared at him like an alien, struggling to respond. After an uncomfortably long pause, he ever so slowly nodded in greeting. It would do, for now.

V turned back to his canvas. Flight.

Vergil and Griffon were right, loathe as he was to admit it. The word ‘flight’ brought several ideas to mind, most of which were beneath him to bother with. Yet each idea lacked risk or daring, despite man’s natural position on the ground. Last week’s painting must have left a lasting impression, indeed.

In that case, he needed to be conservative. Too much at once and he’d lose you.  No matter how strong the temptation, his resistance now meant greater pleasures in the future.

The first stroke of pale sapphire purged every thought from his mind. The second, and a shiver of delight raced up his spine. With the third came goosebumps, and the fourth stole the air from his lungs. He marveled at the myriad of sensations, reveling in how no matter how many times he painted, it always brought the same euphoria.

“Kelly, do you need help?” you asked after ten minutes.

V huffed in frustration at the rude destruction of his trance-like state. If the woman was so hopeless as to need help, she shouldn’t be there. Even a child could paint a bird. How you sounded so understanding, he didn’t know. He listened with half his attention as he continued his work, switching brushes to begin outlining the details.

“I can’t think of anything…”

A soft hum and the rustle of fabric. “Well, let’s start with things that fly. Planes, insects, maybe birds?”

“I don’t like birds.”

The artist tuned out the conversation. There was nothing to gain from listening further, besides annoyance at the woman’s stupidity. He already had plenty of that. Perhaps it was a good time to work on Ken? The three orderlies looked like they weren’t paying a speck of attention, this was as unsupervised as he was likely to get.

He leaned a few inches closer and licked his lips. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Ken blinked like an owl, his hand frozen in midair several inches from the waiting canvas. “What?”

“I’ll tell you why I’m stuck here if you’ll do the same.”

A pause. V hummed and added several feathers to the wings, dabbing globs of yellow between to represent the melting glue. Ah, Icarus. The first child lost to naive dreams and foolishness.

Well, probably not the first.

“You go first,” Ken replied at last.

V knew his options. Lying would get him nowhere, the man could ask anyone on staff and no doubt they’d tell his story. Any trust between them would be irrevocably damaged. All he could do was frame the truth in a favorable light, or at least try.

“I murdered three people.”

A startled squeak slipped from Ken’s tightened lips. His eyes were comically wide, nostrils flaring. “Why?”

V glanced again at the orderlies, finding them a few feet back with drooping lids. Nothing to be concerned about. “To awaken humanity to the truth. None are safe from the folly of innocence.”

A moment passed in silence, the quiet sound of horsehair on canvas the only soundtrack to the scene. V glanced at Ken every so often, timing his next words with the moment his face began to relax from his instinctual terror.

“Why are you here? What nonsense do they tell you is wrong with you?”

“They… they say I’m delusional,” he began, adding a few shaky dollops of color. “But I swear it’s all true.”

The artist smirked. “Hmm. A familiar tune. Any who are blind to the truth refuse to even admit its possible existence.”

When he next looked toward Ken, the man was gaping at him. Fear still flickered in his shining eyes, but a hint of relief teased at the edges. Perhaps no one believed him before, how perfect. A better opening, he couldn’t imagine.

“Care to share?” he asked with an intrigued expression.

He listened in stoic and attentive silence as Ken spouted off theory after theory, gathering steam as he continued. The man seemed capable of believing anything, from potential coups to life on Mars and everything in between. He may be far more useful than he’d initially imagined. If he were to take advantage, all he needed to do was suggest a conspiracy. Child’s play.

V checked the others in the room. You were still locked in a discussion with Kelly. The woman had yet to even open a container of paint. The orderlies stood at least six feet back, only still vertical because they locked their knees. Fools.

When Ken at last fell silent, V gestured towards you and Kelly with a dismissive flick of his brush. “Look at how she fawns, it’s absurd.”

The man glanced his way and shrugged, his hand still adding blue to form a skyline. Why wait? Might as well get started now.

“Considering the state Kelly's in, the assignment seems like torture. Do you think she might be trying to provoke further depths of pain from the poor woman?”

Another distracted glance, but the first hints of concern appeared. “Who, Dr. Waras?”

“Yes, she seems manipulative, don’t you think?”

Ken’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His brows furrowed in thought and a frown twisted his lips. Perfect, it was working. Now, to drive it home.

“I’d hate to be the target of her scheming. Who knows what she has planned?”

The man closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, his unsteady hand leaving a jagged line on his simplistic work.

“Perhaps this place is meant to destroy us. They say they’re trying to heal us, but have you gotten any better? I haven’t.”

Ken whimpered and V struggled to keep the smirk at bay.

“If only there was a way to escape…”

The artist lowered his eyes, his shoulders dipping as if in resignation as he turned back to his own canvas. He heard every harsh breath the man took, every squirm as he battled at his suggestions. In time, he would succumb. He lacked the will power to do anything else.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Would you do the sfw alphabet with polly gray and female reader?:)

Polly Gray SFW Alphabet

*** This isn’t expressly female x female but I’m trying to do all of the SFW Alphabets gender neutral so they apply to more people :) Sorry it’s not exactly the request but I hope it still works *** 

__________________________________________________

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Polly shows affection through caring acts. Even in a relationship, she can be somewhat motherly because she’s so used to being that mother figure so many around her. 

Physically, she’s kind of hot and cold depending on the situation. Especially since she’s a sexual assault survivor, she can become uncomfortable in physical situations very quickly and you work really hard to make sure that she always feels safe and comfortable. Other times, though, she loves to kiss you and she definitely has needs, if you know what I mean ;P 

 B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Polly is the kick ass best friend. She’s the one that you make stupid decisions with but you can also rely on each other to help the other one out. You tell each other EVERYTHING. You guys are actually more like really close siblings really. 

 C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Polly feels smothered very easily so a lot of times, cuddling is just lying in the same bed and gently running your fingers through her hair (or vice versa) and telling each other how much you love each other. 

 D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Polly can’t deny the aching to return back to her Roma roots, pack up a wagon, and just go see the world. She’s become accustomed to a life of luxury since Shelby Company Ltd. picked up and she likes the financial security but she’s got a wild soul and wants to share her world with you. 

 As far as cooking, Polly is a really good cook. Like her food is amazing. 

As far as cleaning, she’s eclectic. Her house isn’t a pigsty or anything but she has her fair share of small trinkets and objects around. 

 E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would hate to have to break up with you but if she had to, she would be secretly heartbroken but would keep it together long enough to get out of the room when she was done before breaking down completely. 

 F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She wouldn’t totally jump the gun on engagements, not because she doesn’t love you, but because she’s hesitant when it comes to love. She’s lost so many people that she loves and then been used by others that it almost scares her when she feels it as does the possibility that she could lose you. 

BUT of course she wants to marry you! She wants to more than anything. She wants it to be a cute little simple wedding in a field with wildflowers and… yeah. It’s safe to say she wants to get married.

 G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Like I said earlier, she has a motherly energy around her so most of the time, she can be fairly gentle, physically and emotionally. She never wants to actually hurt your feelings (and she would NEVER hurt you physically).  

BUT she will not hesitate to call you out when you’re acting stupid or making her upset or anything. She loves you but she won’t allow you to walk over her or make decisions she knows will hurt yourself. 

 H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Polly is a big hugger. Well, not so big into them that she has to have her hands on you every single second of the day, but you guys definitely average on at least one or two hugs a day. 

Her hugs are warm and enveloping and they manage to make you feel safe and needed all at once. 

 I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes her a little while to finally say it but when she does, she is so sure that she means it that it’s not even something that she has to think twice about. 

 J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Polly doesn’t get jealous. Like at all. You guys have a very solid, trusting relationship so there isn’t a worry that the other one will cheat. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t the occasional insecurity but it’s never all that well-founded. You’d never cheat on the other person. 

When Polly starts to feel insecure, she’ll distance herself from you or from the situation and get herself a drink. 

 K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses will either be deep and passionate or quick pecks but there’s always so much love behind each one. 

Polly’s favorite place to kiss you is your lips. She feels like her connection to you is so much stronger when you kiss on the lips. 

 L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Polly loves kids. When she first found out she was having Michael and his sister, she was hesitant as to whether or not she’d be a good mother but then she lost them and found herself wanting nothing more than to have her children back. 

Even with Michael back now, she can’t help but think about the childhoods she missed out on witnessing. She would love to have that experience but knows that she’s too old to have her own children again. She can’t deny that she secretly hopes you will come across a poor orphan child and have to raise them as your own. 

 M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

When she’s sober, she wakes up before you most mornings. You’ll wake up to an empty bed but you can usually feel when she’s home or whether she’s left early. When she’s home, you can find her sitting in the living room with coffee and a book or the daily paper. 

 N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent pretty lovey-dovey between the two of you. I’m talking laying in bed having deep conversations or staying up late laughing over a glass of wine (okay, maybe a bottle). 

 O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes Polly a while to open up to you. It started when Tommy brought Michael into the picture. You knew that she’d had children in the past but it wasn’t until he was reunited with the family that she began to open up to you about her past. 

You were always aware of her second sight, though. It’s not something that she really hides anyways but, unlike a lot of other people in the family, you actually believe her. You don’t just claim to believe her to appease her. 

 P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Polly is not the most patient person in the world. She’ll put up with some crap if she knows that there’s a positive end goal but she’s pretty good at seeing when things are going to go to shit and when it’s one of those situations, there’s very little patience on her end. 

 Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Polly really does try to remember most of the things that you say but she’s under a lot of stress with those damn Shelby boys so there are some slips in memory sometimes. 

On the flip side, though, she’ll know things about you that you never told her because of her second sight. One time, she just started asking you questions about your childhood that would have required past knowledge and when you asked how the hell she knew about any of it, she told you that she’d been speaking to your grandmother who’d passed. 

 R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Her favorite memory by far was when the two of you spent the night camped out under the stars just outside of town. It was just the two of you, watching the sunset and then the sunrise the next morning. 

 S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Polly will literally FIGHT someone for you. She’d honestly kill for you (in a totally warranted kinda way… you know the Peaky Blinders are). Anyone messes with you, dealer's choice. You want somebody emotionally destroyed, she’ll insult the hell out of someone. Someone needs to get their ass beat? Polly has got it covered. NOBODY fucks with the person she loves.

 T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Polly likes sweet and simple. For her, it’s the thought behind everything that counts and not necessarily the monetary value behind it.

 V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She definitely wants to look good. She’s put her time in mucking through all the crap but now she’s ready to look like a mother fricking queen. 

 W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I’m gonna be honest here. No. She loves you more than anything except perhaps Michael but after losing everyone she’s loved at one point or another, she’s learned to not rely on other people to feel like a complete person. 

 Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

You love this woman to death but she’s got a bad habit of drinking a little too much sometimes and when she does, she just sort of passes out anywhere and everywhere. Although it’s getting better, you’ve come home before to find her passed out very very close to a roaring fire. 

[pseftisincertus]

Jigsaw by Daniel Sloss

"Just because you can find meaning in the art, doesn't necessarily mean that was the meaning the artist necessarily intended to be there.

Take into consideration that you might just be a pretentious fucking cunt, okay? But I understand though when I say, like, life is meaningless.

I do not mean that your life is meaningless.

Your life can have a thousand different meanings or even just one.

I'd recommend more than one in case you got it wrong.

But to have this core value, this core belief, this core meaning to your life and have it forever is a stupid way to live and really challenging, especially if it's a belief that you picked when you were young.

You have to remember, when you're young, your brain is so maleable, but so Just stubborn, that it takes things on for the rest of your life, and you're not even aware it's there.

It's your subconscious, and I say this from experience.

When I was seven years old, my dad said something to me that to this day is the reason I will die alone.

Very happily, I may add.

But I was seven years old, I didn't know what life was.

I didn't know what existence was, how the fuck would I know? So I thought I'd ask my dad 'cause he can fix a computer, so he must know.

So I was like, "Dad, what do we all do? What's the meaning of life? Why are we all here? What the fuck?" And my dad loves his kids, so he wants to explain to his son in a way that he'll understand, but unfortunately, his son's a fuckhead.

So he has to explain it in a way that a fuckhead will understand, and he accidentally did it perfectly, and it's stuck with me since then.

This is what he said, right? I'm seven years old.

He goes, "All right, buddy. Just imagine that your life, my life. Everyone else's individual life. Imagine all of our lives are like our own individual jigsaw puzzles. As we're going through life, we're just slowly piecing it together, bit by bit, based on experiences and lessons that we've learned, until we get the best picture, but the thing is everyone has also lost the box for their jigsaw. So none of us know what the image we're trying to make is, we're just confidently fucking guessing. So the best way to do a jigsaw, when you don't have the image to work off, is to start from the outside, the sides and the four corners.

Family.

Friends.

Hobbies/interests.

Job.

Now obviously, as you go through life, some of these bits are subject to change.

Sometimes you'll make new friends, and you'll lose contact with old so you gotta move this corner around a bit.

Sometimes you'll get a job.

That means you can't have a certain hobbies.

You gotta decide then, "Do I want more me time or do I want more work time?" You gotta move the stuff around.

Sometimes you'll have a family member that dies, and they'll leave a big hole in your life.

In that moment you'll have to find a way to fill that void, otherwise you'll be incomplete forever.

"Now, that made perfect sense to me, because I was seven years old.

I fucking loved jigsaws.

So I was like, "All right, okay.

So once you've got the stuff on the outside, what's the main bit of the image? What we are all working towards?" And he goes, "Well, that's the partner piece.

You and this perfect person who you've never met before to come out of nowhere, fit your life perfectly, complete you and make you whole for the first time in your life, much like your mother did for me.

" Seven.

Seven years old.

I wish you just said, "Ice cream!" And we could have fucked off.

And even though what he said sounds sweet and whatever, what it manifested in my seven-year-old brain was this, "If you are not with someone, you are broken.

If you are not with someone, you are incomplete.

If you are not with someone, you are not whole.

" And that's not just something my dad made me feel, that's something that we as a society have made every single child born in the last 40 years feel.

Every Disney princess has a prince, every prince has a princess, every television show or movie always has a character in it that doesn't want to be in a relationship.

They're happy with who they are.

But then by the end of the series, guess what.

They were wrong! They were wrong for wanting to be alone, what a fucking idiot.

Everyone needs someone, yeah.

They were just a toasty little marshmallow, weren't they? It's all to do with love.

Divorce, an entirely common thing that there is nothing wrong with.

When you're growing up and your friends' parents get divorced, you're told to not talk about it or mention it to them because it's taboo, and it is taboo is because every relationship on the outside is perfect, because none of us are willing to admit that none of us know what the fuck we're doing.

And when you raise children in that world, where everything points towards love and everything's perfect on the outside, when you've raised them for 18 fucking years, when we become an adult for the first time in our late teens and our early 20s, we're so terrified.

We're so trying to be an adult that some of us will take the wrong person, the wrong jigsaw piece and just fucking jam them into our jigsaws anyway, denying that they clearly don't fit.

Oh, we'll move pieces out the way, I don't need this hobby, I don't need this opinion.

Mom who? The bitch with the tits.

What's she done for me recently? I'm gonna force this fucking person into our lives because we'd much rather have something than nothing.

Then five years later, you're stood looking at a jigsaw you don't recognize, being like, "Ah! There's a fucking cunt in the middle of this.

" Maybe you do meet the perfect person.

Maybe you meet them, you go out.

They make you laugh.

You make them laugh.

They've got a stupid laugh, but you fucking love it.

They like what you like.

They like your idiosyncrasies.

It's great.

It's perfect.

Oh, my God, they've completed you.

For three months.

Every relationship is perfect for three months.

And here's why.

'Cause after three months, that's when you realize that nobody else is a jigsaw piece.

Everyone else on this planet is as deep and as complex and individual as you are, which means they too have spent the last 20 or so years of their life working on their own jigsaw puzzle, in the same way that you've been working on yours.

You can't suddenly expect them to give up everything they've come to achieve to suddenly fit into yours in the same way that you'd be pissed off if they asked you to sacrifice everything you've done, suddenly come fit into theirs, but now, because you like each other and because you're interested in each other, now you have to make a jigsaw together.

And we all know how fucking annoying that is.

But you do it 'cause you're in love and you're interested, and maybe for the first couple years, it's great.

It's like, "Oh, my God, you love this bit of me.

I love this bit of you.

Oh, my God, we got the same thing, yeah!" But time does not equal success.

You can spend five or more years with someone, and only then, after all the fun you had, be looking at the jigsaw and realize you're both working towards very different images.

Only then realize that you want different things.

And in that moment, you have a very, very difficult question to ask yourself.

One.

Do I admit the last five years of my life have been a waste? 

Two.

Do I waste the rest of my life? 55% of marriages end in divorce.

99.

0% of relationships that started before they are 30 end.

If those were the stats for surgery, none of us would fucking risk it.

But because it's love and we're stupid, we just lie on the operating table like, "Maybe this time I won't die inside.

" My generation has become so obsessed with starting the rest of their lives that they're willing to give up the one they are currently living.

We have romanticized the idea of romance, and it is cancerous.

People are more in love with the idea of love than the person they are with.

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lullaby

AO3 :: Previously

Chapter 9

I lay on the examination chair, waiting for the doctor to perform the ultrasound. I gripped Mum’s hand, nervous. It wasn’t the first time I would see the baby on the screen, but now it would be different; it was bound to be bigger, maybe more recognizable. My mum was excited, happy to see her future grandchild for the first time. We’d switched doctors, to one closer by. It was mildly embarrassing to have a man for an obstetrician, but he soon put me at ease with his easy-going manner and friendly banter.

Dr. Raymond jotted down my medical history, ordered blood tests, and weighed me. I was slightly above average weight for my height—even though I had lost a lot of my appetite since I found out I was pregnant. I stood on the scale in a flimsy paper gown.

“Alright,” he said, “I think you can stand to gain about 15 kilos total, by the end of your pregnancy. I’m feeling generous today.” Dr. Raymond grinned.  15 kilograms? Two stone? I swallowed hard and stepped off the scale, feeling like a whale even though I was barely showing. I had lain back on the examination chair with my legs on the stirrups, fuming. That was when Mum joined me in the room and took my hand, expectant and eager.

Finally, the doctor placed the cursor on my belly. He moved it around for awhile, and there it was. He pointed it out on the screen, amidst the electronic snow. It was bigger, maybe the size of my fist. Mum squeezed my hand, her eyes welling up. Immediately, my mind jumped to Frank. I couldn’t believe he was not the one standing next to me, with me. Something tugged at my heart, acid and painful.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, as Dr. Raymond told me that everything looked fine, but that it was too early to tell if it was a boy or girl yet. He printed another picture of the sonogram directly from the machine; I’d make a copy for Jamie. I thanked the doctor as I lifted myself off the chair, with Mum’s help. As I dressed in the small bathroom, my mind raced with everything the doctor had said, with thoughts of Frank mixed in for added confusion. I felt bone-tired.

As Mum and I took the subway home, chattering happily all the way about the baby and the good news, I stared morosely out the window at the speeding walls. The one person who should have shared these moments with me was still completely absent, both physically and emotionally. I knew that being pregnant was not the same for me as for Frank; I had proof inside me that I would soon be a mother. He just didn’t see it, or feel it. It terrified me to think that he might never do so. Nodding mechanically at Mum’s words, I gritted my teeth and resolved to try one more time.

Where did Frank fit into all of this, where did he want to fit, if at all? I still had many plans to make; all of them would be incomplete as long as he didn’t make up his mind. I needed to know for sure whether he wanted to be part of them or not. His actions of late certainly spoke for him. His lack of involvement hadn’t ceased to surprise me, but I was reluctant to push him too much, afraid that he might go over the edge and refuse to see me at all.

My parents didn’t pry too much, acknowledging that I was old enough to deal with the situation—minor or not, I would soon be 18. I wasn’t sure Frank’s parents knew they were about to become grandparents; my money was on no. I would have thought perhaps his parents might want to be involved, or contact me somehow—but they hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t.

Why didn’t that matter more to me? I cradled my belly. Apparently love was not only blind, it was incredibly stupid. I still tried so hard to justify Frank’s attitude and actions, when they did nothing but hurt me more. What seemed more important, it hadn’t infuriated me as it should. I knew it should bloody piss me off, that I had all the right in the world to be more self-righteous. As I sat there, I grew more agitated and angry.

It was time to lay everything on the table—again—and hope for the best.

~~~

Frank’s mobile was unavailable. I peered out of the back room at Waterstones. I hung up on another call, unanswered. I couldn’t believe it—we lived in the same city, and he couldn’t come see me for five minutes. Jamie, on the other hand, called me every other day and was planning weekends for us to spend together regardless of his medical studies.

Mum and Dad had stopped asking about Frank. They were worried about me, my evident sadness. Frank was never at the dormitories when I called; I had given up on hearing excuses from his small circle of friends, tired of Jack’s apologies and Alex’s explanations.

I was angry for feeling like I had to cover for him—pretending things were simply on hold for us. I felt like clawing up the walls in frustration. I was distracted with work, could barely concentrate in class, and was losing what little appetite I had left. All this stress couldn’t possible be good for the baby.

One last time—I took the tube to the University of Glasgow campus on my day off. The air was frigid, and I bundled up in my winter coat. My stomach was permanently clenched. I felt nervous. I walked up the stairs to his room, huffing and puffing all the way. There were a few empty cardboard boxes outside his door. I called his mobile and heard it ringing inside the room. I knocked on the door at the same time and figured one way or another, I would speak to him.

Frank answered his mobile first. “Claire?”

“I’m outside.”

The door was yanked open as he hung up. I stepped inside his room without waiting for an invitation. I caught a glimpse of my reflection on the window; I took in the light purple circles under my eyes and tangled curls. Where was the pregnancy glow? I looked like shit, tired and careworn. Frank closed the door behind me and sat in the desk chair.

I laid my hands in my lap, where my fingers interlocked nervously. My heart skipped a couple of beats. Frank’s presence used up all the air, leaving the atmosphere heavy and tense. Finally, I couldn’t bear the silence.

“I didn’t want to show up like this. But I needed to talk to you, and you haven’t been taking my calls. As usual.”

“I’m sorry.” He offered no further explanations.

“I told my parents already.” A few weeks ago. The air grew charged.

“What did they say?” Frank was carefully composed.

“I was surprised. They said they would support me and help me. With money and the like. They were shocked, to say the least. But they’ve assimilated everything. Sort of. They’ve been great.” I looked up at him, and Frank avoided my eyes. “So. Are you telling your parents?”

Frank remained silent. My breathing accelerated with each passing moment.

“It’s not easy for me,” he began.

“Easy?” I interrupted. “Of course it’s not easy. I thought I would throw up. I was very upset. I didn’t know how they would react.” My voice rose a full octave in anger. I reminded myself to breathe.

Frank sighed. “You don’t understand. I’ve got things going for me now. I might get a scholarship to go abroad. There’s no way I’d be earning enough for awhile to support us.”

My fingers knotted together. “Back in December, you practically told me I could live with you, that your parents would understand. Now you’re telling me that what, they’ll disown you or something?” I softened my voice. “They can’t be that unreasonable.”

“They could be. If the scholarship doesn’t work out, and now this, they could cut me off without a cent. School, expenses, other things—they could take it all away.” He crossed his arms. That only incensed me further.

“You’re afraid of losing money? So get a job, like I did. Anything. We can’t afford to be picky. I’m still standing—juggling work and school. I’ll keep at it. I expected you to take some measure of responsibility.”

“Claire—”

“But I don’t anymore.” I forced myself to drag the words out. “I want this to be simple for us. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not asking you for money, either. I just want to know if I should include you in my plans—to have your support.”

“Look. Maybe I could give you some money, every week, monthly even. I could give the baby my name, whatever help you need. But I can’t commit to more.” Frank’s voice was hard; tears choked me and for a moment I couldn’t speak.

“So your parents would have a secret grandchild they’d never know about?”

“I’m sorry.” He looked away. Nobody spoke for nearly five minutes. The silence grew painful.

“Please don’t make me choose,” I said in a small voice.

“I’m not making you choose anything.”

“You are. And I know what my choice is. I’m not asking for money, I told you that. I don’t need your name on a piece of paper. That means nothing.” I swallowed past the knot in my throat, trying to sound firm. “I’m giving you an out. Tell me, are you with me or not? I won’t be mad. I won’t contact you anymore. You’ll never have to hear from us again. You can walk, right now.”

The stillness emanating from Frank was nerve-wracking. He still didn’t answer. Fear closed an icy hand around my heart, as it tried to beat steadily on. What was I doing? I realized then, I was waiting in vain for him to take my hand, touch me, hold me close and make me feel safe.

“I think…  give me a few days.”

“Now, Frank. In or out?”

“I’ll call you.”

“You won’t. I’m done waiting.”

“Please, Claire. I need to make some decisions. For both of us.” He pursed his lips, glancing at the grey-hued sky through the window. Finally, he leaned in and gave me a goodbye peck on the cheek. Dismissed, I walked to the door, my motions slow and paused. I put my hands in my pockets, so that the shaking would not betray me. Franks’ dark hair was mussed, his own face tired, too. He opened the door for me, and I left. I did not look back, as I once would have done. The door shut behind me.

That was the last time I saw Frank.

[symflash]

Ultimate Spider-Man Symflash headcanons

Because I can’t write, I can’t draw, and I can’t pay other people to do it for me.

* The symbiote that's with Flash is a fragment of the larger chunk of symbiote that went down with the Helicarrier in season 1, episode 26, and not the brand new symbiote created in season 3, episode 2. Consequently, they remember Harry, but not the time the Goblin injected Peter with Venom (different fragment).

* Also, in this continuity, "Venom" is actually the name the symbiote picked for themself.

* Venom was a blank slate at their birth, like an infant, with zero concept of morals or social mores. They might've been able to suss it out by osmosis from their hosts' brains, if their most long-term host hadn't been Harry "I hate my dad and I wish he was dead" Osborn.

* Flash's and Venom's first dance as Agent Venom went something like this: Venom: “Okay, I think I've cracked the code. Every time I assert my personhood separate from my host, I get electrocuted to smithereens. So maybe if I... pretend to be an inanimate object, act super low-key, this new host won't notice, and I can delay my next near-death experience.” Flash: "This is awesome! You're awesome! What's your name? I'm Flash! Do you wanna be friends? Do you like football? Do you know what football is?" Venom: *tears streaming down their metaphorical face* "wHAt tHe fUcK Is goINg oN"

* That was not the moment Venom decided to bind themselves permanently to Flash, though. That happened after Beetle tried to hit them with a sonic blast. Venom was in pain, and Flash was telling them not to be scared, because Spider-Man would help them, they could trust Spidey. That was Venom's first exposure to the concept of trust. And after they saw that trust paid off, they decided to trust Flash. And their trust paid off. Flash: "Did you hear that, buddy? You won't have to leave after all! Isn't this great?" Venom:

* Flash's training period at SHIELD was mostly dedicated to teaching human morality to Venom and training himself to not refer to himself as "we" (it gives the people with the sonic guns twitchy trigger fingers).

* Sure, I could NOT shoehorn in Flash's comic book backstory. But I'm a slut for cheap angst, so I'm gonna. ** Flash didn't so much live at the gas station as he squatted there after running away from home. ** The smell of alcohol is a trigger for him. He drops off the radar on his 21st birthday because he's terrified his friends will try to take him to a bar.

* Flash and Venom converse telepathically more often than they let on. They like to do Mystery Science Theatre 3000 running commentaries during boring meetings. They also do a psychic duet of Bohemian Rhapsody whenever a known mind reader walks into the room. Just in case.

* Venom thinks the fact that Flash was The Very First Host They Ever Took is the most romantic thing ever. ("It was destiny!") Flash is just embarrassed that their first meeting was so inauspicious. ("You came out of a toilet and I tried to feed Pete to you.")

* Venom can do a bang-up impersonation of Harry, and you can bet they use it to make fun of him at any opportunity. ** "Hurr burr, I have a limousine, a penthouse home and billions of dollars, and when my favorite Spider-Person doesn't reciprocate my gay crush *choking up* I don't cry about it."

* There was a brief period after "Anti-Venom" where Venom was too weak to speak to Flash, and Flash wasn't sure if they were dead or alive. ** Of course he cried; slut for cheap angst, remember?

* Flash has undiagnosed dyslexia. He didn't figure it out until Venom asked him why letters wiggle for him but not for Harry.

* Venom likes dandelions, especially ones growing out of cracks in the sidewalk. ** "They're considered weeds and eradicated on sight, and yet they're strong enough to break through rock, and hardy enough to survive in environments that would be inhospitable to all other plants. It's just... poeticcinema.jpg." *** "Buddy, you can beam a crisp and clear mental impression of any picture directly into my brain. There's literally no reason for you to say 'dot jay peg' out loud, ever."

* Peter & Co. keep making references to stuff Venom did that Venom has no memory of (because there's an entire branch of symbiotes that diverged from them, so they literally weren't around for those events). Flash decides to investigate and pulls up all SHIELD case reports about Venom. That's the first time he finds out how many symbiotes SHIELD has killed or attempted to kill. Venom can only shrug their metaphorical shoulders. People have been trying to murder them nearly from the moment of their birth. They didn't have a point of reference, so they'd just sort of assumed it was a normal part of life. They don't really understand why Flash is crying. And that makes Flash cry harder. ** And that's the story of how Flash got over his crush on Peter. *** Venom doesn't see much point in holding grudges. After all, if they ever express anger or try to retaliate over their treatment, they'll be stuffed in a jar at best and incinerated alive at worst. Luckily, Flash is a finely-tuned rage producing machine; he can be angry on both of their behalf.

* Flash encourages Venom to have their own hobbies separate from him. To facilitate this, Venom has permission to drive around Flash's body while he sleeps, provided they don't stray away from SHIELD headquarters and wake Flash up if there's an emergency. ** Venom likes looking up video tutorials for random things. And because they share a brain with Flash, he ends up learning things by proxy. (The morning he woke up fluent in American Sign Language was a trippy one). *** They're also into videogame speedruns, of all things.

* Scarlet Spider would very much like to forget the time he got up for a midnight snack and found Flash, with solid black eyes, hunching on top of a vending machine like a goblin, attempting to insert three chocolate bars into his mouth at once.

* Venom is the only one allowed to call Flash "Eugene". They're very territorial of their monopoly.

* Venom has a dim, dim view of father figures. Their genetic progenitor tried to murder them multiple times, and their only second-hand experiences of fathers are, well, Norman Osborn and Harrison Thompson.

* What's the point of having a foot long tongue if you don't use it to lick the bottom of your ice cream carton?

* Venom and Flash have such divergent music tastes, they need to have two separate playlists. (Flash likes punk rock and hair metal, Venom's into eurodance and chiptunes.)

* Incomplete list of animals Flash unironically thinks are cute: tarantulas ("Fuzzy!"), snakes ("Their tongues go blelele!"), amblypygids ("They cuddle their babies!"), velvet worms ("Their feet are so stubby!")

* Flash is actually pretty insecure about being Venom's host. He feels the only reason they stick with him is because he was the first person to be nice to them, and they could do better. ** Flash: "I mean, you give me superpowers, the means to get away from my old life, the opportunity to be somebody... but what do I give you in return? Maybe Doc Ock was right... maybe I AM a parasite." Venom:

* Actually, Flash is insecure about a lot of things. He's afraid Peter secretly resents him for the years of bullying, he fears that he's just fooled everyone into thinking that he's a good person and really he's just as much of a monster as his father, he's scared he's too stupid to make anything of himself and he'll become a deadbeat... it's a bunch of separate but interlocking self-esteem issues. ** Venom helps, though. It's useful to have an outside perspective to your own brain.

* Flash initially calls Venom an "it", because they're genderless and he doesn't have a lot of insight into gender politics and pronouns. He later learns about they/them pronouns, and asks if he can use it for Venom. Venom, who's used to being called "it" and knows even less about personal pronouns, is confused. They have a long discussion about dehumanizing language that ends with Venom shrugging their metaphorical shoulders and going "Sure, if it makes you feel better".

* Being a couple kind of sneaks up on them. In their defense, both of them have little to no experience in giving or receiving affection; they have trouble distinguishing different kinds of love (hence why Flash thought his giant gay crush on Peter was just wanting to be his best buddy).

* Cons of wearing actual clothes instead of a shapeshifted symbiote: Doing laundry. Pros of wearing actual clothes: Nobody can tell you're giving your boyfriend a fullbody cuddle under his shirt in public.

* They're both super affectionate and flirty. They both get super flustered and embarrassed when receiving affection and being flirted at. Together, they are a disaster.

[wolfcha1k]

All I Can Think About

"One look and I can't catch my breath Two souls into one flesh When you're not next to me I'm incomplete 'Cause I'm on fire like a thousand suns I couldn't put it out even if I wanted to These flames tonight Look into my eyes and say you want me, too Like I want you"

"All my life I've been looking for a place my parents wanted me to find, and I found it… but now? All I can think about is Eep. My best friend, my first… and only love."

Guy and Eep reflect on what has happened in the wake of these two crazy moons since their Tomorrow was challenged. There's damage that needs to be fixed and broken hearts to mend.

Post!A New Age /// Guy x Eep /// hope you like kisses man, this is like 80 percent smooching time

You can also read it here on ao3 or FF.net: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29545320 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13822786/1/All-I-Can-Think-About

I need to stop working backwards on the timeline but oh well. You can't convince that Guy wasn't fussing over Eep the moment they were alone after the events of the spiny mandrilla. Also tbh this was just an excuse to practice more kissing scenes, bc I know you all are secretly heathens

The moment Guy saw a chance to get away from the Pack he took it, quickly grabbing for Eep's hand to pull her down a random direction into the garden. She started in surprise before willingly following him with a trust Guy didn't feel he deserved anymore after last night. Guy didn't stop until he felt they were far enough away that nobody would find them without looking very hard, hidden behind some of the large gourds and corn.

He spun around to face her, letting out a long sigh. Guy just needed a moment to look at her, dark eyes worried and concerned as the adrenaline of what happened just a few hours ago finally seeped out of his body. Guy was covered in bruises and ached all over but it was nothing compared to the pain of when he thought he lost her forever three times in the span of just two terrifying days of his life. Somehow The End of the World felt miniscule in comparison now that Eep was his world.

His Tomorrow.

He rested his shaky hands on her shoulders, relief making him dizzy. Eep supported the sudden slumping of his weight, her green eyes wide with concern. "Guy! What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, a tired smile on his face as he looked at her.

She held him up by the arms before lifting him up into hers. Eep sat down on the grass and positioned him on her lap, stroking the fringe of hair away from his face.

She could see the swollen purple bruises on his cheek and the black eye he had, his lower lip looked swollen and puffy. "You had a bad day," she sighed, cuddling him close.

"Yeah," he managed to chuckle, finding some amusement out of her words. "But it's better now that you're here…" He pressed a tired, sloppy kiss to her shoulder and rested his forehead there after. "Empathis on the better."

She just tugged him closer, as if her arms could squeeze the exhaustion and nerves right out of him. "I'm sorry," Eep suddenly said, muffling her face against his cheek. He felt moisture against his skin and the slight tremor in her arms and shoulders. "I'm really sorry."

Her warbled words cut him like a knife and he used his head to nudge her back so he could look at her. He could see the beginnings of tears on her eyelashes, gaze watery as she blinked it away stubbornly. Guy reached his hand to touch her face, feeling her recoil a bit before relaxing into his palm. He wiped his thumb under her eye, catching a tear.

He realized his own eyes felt moist all of a sudden, it'd been an emotionally charged couple of days. "It's okay, Eep. You didn't do anything wrong, I was just so stupid."

She sighed heavily, unwinding an arm from around his body so she could cover his hand with her calloused palm. Eep said nothing for several long moments, just clutched his hand like a life line.

"Eep?"

Eep finally looked at him, tearing her eyes from the random direction she'd sent her sights towards. "Yeah?"

"You're not hurt, are you?" Guy sat up a bit in her lap, cautiously letting his palms trace her broad shoulders, fingers squeezing tentatively to see if she would flinch. He knew she was good at hiding things like injuries, nursing them in private as to avoid upsetting Grug, it'd also extended to him now. She was strong but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to worry over her.

"No, I don't have a scratch on me," she assured him but Guy didn't stop checking her. Eep let him fuss though, knowing it would make him feel better if he came to the conclusion himself. His touch felt nice though, Eep realizing how starved she was for it since being separated from each other.

He touched her back, her arms, her ribs, anywhere his hands could reach in a modest way, careful in his examination. After running a hand down her leg, his eyes fell to where the prohestic was once on her pinkie toe. "I'm so, so glad you actually don't have a toe there," he sighed, knowing it was one of the most nonsensical, bizarre phrases he'd ever uttered in his seventeen years of life.

"Guess getting bit by that bearyena came in handy for once," Eep quipped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

He also was relieved she hadn't been ripped in half during the struggle, it had to be a miracle of some kind. Guy didn't voice this though, just traced his hands slowly back up her body so he could hold her waist. He missed her so much and he was quick to show her that, words failing him as he gently brushed her lips in a kiss. He let his hands slide up her back to lovingly stroke her shoulders, feeling the muscles ripple under his palms. She shivered and he shook, he pulled her closer as if to warm them both but still the trembling never stopped.

He always did love her shoulders and muscles, the clinical and practical part of him admired the strength and power there, how they could flex and be used to take down beasts twice her size. Then there was the simplicity of just being a man who loved a beautiful woman and it inspired a different kind of appreciation in him.

One that he knew Grug who absolutely skewer him alive for, his heart longing and aching as he hugged Eep. He never knew he could be so needy, it should have been pathetic as a puppy following its master for attention, never satisfied.

They'd shared an intense kiss over the raging flames but it still wasn't enough after the longest dry spell he had ever known since meeting her. After that first kiss in the ocean, he never got enough of her now. He was greedy and never was ashamed of that when it came to loving her.

He only wanted to be with her until there were no more Tomorrows that crossed the sky.

Eep quickly cupped his face in her hands and surged forward against him, her ferocity taking him by surprise. He practically squeaked when he felt the nip of her teeth on his bruised lip but somehow he couldn't care less. Just welcomed it, tilting his head and taking in the taste of her as he brushed her tongue with his. It was like fire and he was more than happy to be burned, letting Eep fly with him like the wild tiger in his stories.

He drew away a moment, just the slightest breath away as he spoke, pressing a few rapid kisses to her lips with each word. "You." Kiss. "Have." Kiss. "No idea." Kiss. Kiss. "How much I missed you," Guy finished in a rush, breathless as he lowered his head to trail a series of kisses down the column of her throat, grazing his teeth lightly on the skin of her collarbone.

There was a hitch in her breath at the affection. "Can't be more than I missed you."

He went to nuzzle her ear, placing a chase kiss on her earlobe. Eep arched into him and he clutched her tight as if she were water slipping through his fingers. "I thought I was going to die seeing you up there," Guy uttered in a strained voice. He could picture it so clearly, seeing her leaping and bounding across skeletal remains hanging precariously from old tendrils of vine. The spiny mandrilla closed on her heels and he could do nothing but watch, screaming her name out in desperation until his throat went raw. "I screwed up and almost didn't get to fix it."

Guy felt Eep nudge his head away from her so they could look at each other properly again. She just traced her thumb over his cheek, tender as she marked one of his hand print shaped bruises. "You saved me," she finally said, leaning forward to steal a kiss, smiling against his lips as they brushed, once, twice and finally a proper one that had Guy's toes curling and his head fuzzy. "I was so happy when I saw you again, Guy."

He'd been more than shocked to have seen Eep and the others arrive, riding Chunky and a pack of wolfspiders. He had practically given his last rights, resolving painfully he would never see her again, never fix what he had done to her. His first and only love, he didn't need to meet any other girls to know what he felt was real and it was more than just a beautiful teenage romance.

"You want to talk about heroics? How many people come swooping in on a tiger and take on a giant monster single handedly," Guy pressed his forehead against hers, awed by her courage and humbled by her love for him. "And here I picked a tree over you."

"It wasn't just a tree," she lightly scolded him much to his surprise. "I get it now."

Guy felt moisture collect on his eyelashes and without another thought, closed the distance between them once more. He let his hands roam, touching every part of her out of fear he would forget how warm and solid her body felt in his arms. It was almost like a dream, eyes shut tightly and listening to the soft little gasps in her breath, the way her chest heaved against his own. He hated needing to breathe when all he wanted was this, reluctantly pulling away as he felt light headed, exhilarated and breathless.

"Never again," he promised her, nuzzling his nose against hers. Eep practically purred at the loving attention, letting her palms rest on his shoulders to gently knead the tension there. He shuddered, forehead pressed into hers, knowing the gesture meant so much more than simple touch to her. "I'd rather chop off both my legs than lose you again. Please never scare me like that, I couldn't bare it."

She kissed his lips, gentle before in all her passionate nature, looped her arms around his neck and kissed him enough that Guy was convinced he'd forget his own name.

But that was okay, because she reminded him, pulling away. "Guy, I love you," she only said, beaming at him.

"Please say it again," he pleaded.

"I love you."

He felt his eyes growing glassy again and Eep kissed a tear away from below his eye, soft and tender. He smiled at her, embracing her tightly once more from his comfortable position in her lap. "I love you more," he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

"I love you more," she protested, lightly shoving him to nibble his ear, feeling his weight push into her.

"No, I said I love you more first."

"And I'm telling you I love you more right back," she purred, lifting her neck to give him better access to her jawline when he started to press an open mouth kiss there.

He felt her pulse rush under his lips like she'd ran a marathon, skin flushed as red as her hair. He couldn't help but kiss her again and again.

"You're so stubborn," he grumbled good naturedly, nuzzling her.

"Takes one to know one, babe." Eep grinned at him, stroking the nape of his neck and fiddling with his top knot.

It was just them now and feeling thrilled that he had her to himself, gently nudged her down, feeling her eyes bore into his. Guy braced his arms above her, not caring his muscles throbbed in protest. He could see the sun as it set shimmering there, burning with more than mere fire.

Her eyes were nearly amber in the low light of the evening, glinting with love. Those same eyes reminded him of the first night they met, curious and glowing as the fire flickered. He touched her face, fingers curling under her chin, taking in her flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. It was a good look for her. She was beautiful, and no amount of sleeping suns in the sky would ever compare.

There must have been something in his expression for he saw her tremble and emotion swelled within him as he shut his eyes. He ached in more ways than just the pain from the ordeal with getting pummeled by a bunch of punch monkeys.

No more words were spoken for a long time, whoever reached for whom first he didn't care. All that mattered was now she was in his arms, heart pressed against heart and the gentle whispers of breath against lips. She arched into him and it took all his might to remember how to breathe. She palmed his shoulder suddenly with a growl, pushing him beneath her and he didn't fight her.

No one and no thing would ever separate them again, he thought as he caught her lips once more in a fluid movement.

[scene break]

Grug had panicked when he realized Guy and Eep had disappeared. After today, who could really blame him for it? Everyone was quick to volunteer to find them, Ugga crouching to encourage Sandy to use that skilled sense of smell of hers. The fierce little tot bounded into the fields, disappearing into the tall grass and crops.

"She's got the scent!" Gran exclaimed, hobbling after her youngest granddaughter.

Grug just worried and worried, Ugga absently massaging a kink out of his large neck. "Relax, the farm is safe. I'm sure Eep and Guy are alright, Grug."

"Still," he began with a frown. "I'd feel better knowing that with my own eyes, honey."

They'd followed Sandy through the gardens, the farther they went the more Grug fretted. It felt too long when Sandy finally paused, several large bushes and crops shielding the view. She pawed in the direction of it, turning to giggle and pounce into Ugga's awaiting arms.

"Good girl, Sandy," she praised, pressing her cheek against hers fondly.

Grug lead the way, parting the foliage. Everyone shoved about behind him and attempted to peak around him, making the caveman huff in annoyance.

The family came upon the couple hidden amongst the fields of other worldly produce, cozy together on the grass as they traded needy little kisses. Alternating between whispering, giggling and pressing a small kiss here or there, Guy and Eep were content in their bubble. Guy was curled up as content as a house cat right in her lap, Eep's arms around him in a hug. The sight would have infuriated Grug once upon a time ago but he'd seen a lot in just two days.

Things changed and so did he. His daughter deserved happiness and having seen just how broken Guy had been over her, he knew it wasn't just puppy love.

It was full grown.

"Aw," Dawn gushed as she peeked over Grug's shoulders, standing on her tiptoes. "How cute, are they always like that?"

The typical young boy that he was, Thunk made a face, his travel window lowering. "Bleh," he only said. "Again already?"

Gran snorted and leaned over to Dawn to say inconspicuously, "You have no idea, smart girl."

Belt's only response from around Dawn's torso was to make a swooning gesture, unwinding an arm to drape it over his face. Dawn chuckled when immediately after the sloth was gushing over Sash who'd leaned down to nuzzle noses with Guy's little friend. "I get the picture."

Hope folded her hands to her chest, "I can't believe we tried breaking them up… who does that?"

The words Hope said affected Grug more than he wanted to admit and guilt swelled inside him.

Ugga patted him gently on the shoulder, rousing her mate's quiet contemplation. "Well?" Ugga asked him in that soft voice of hers, gray eyes shifting back towards Guy and Eep.

"Leave them be," Grug told her and the others, shaking his head with a reserved little smile. He felt sad but there was a fatherly resolve in his heart. Eep would always be his little girl but he had to accept she had her own life to live now.

One with many Tomorrows that he knew Guy could give her, there was no doubt the young man was going to give her the world on a silver platter. The thought of her leaving was like a knife in his heart, even Guy would be a tough bone to swallow, after all, Grug had called him son. And as a father, he only wanted what was best for them, even if it meant it wasn't here with him anymore.

Gran stomped her cane on the grass. "Who are you and what have you done with our Lunkhead?"

Grug grunted, "What? I'm not allowed to have a change of heart now?"

Ugga leaned her head against his fondly. "I'm proud of you, big guy."

Grug didn't want to get emotional, feeling the moisture gather in his eyes. Phil threw an arm over his shoulders on the side Ugga didn't occupy.

"Something on your mind, bro?" His eyes were sympathetic.

He sniffled, "Nothing, really." Grug shrugged Phil's arm off and sighed.

"You can tell me," Phil encouraged, lifting a hand in an encouraging manner.

"I don't wanna."

"I'm knocking on the door, big guy. Let me in!" He persisted.

Grug side eyed him, knowing no matter what he said the lanky Betterman was going to get his way. "It's just… gonna be hard to let them go," he said, the words slightly warbled. He was a big scary caveman but he'd always been soft in the heart despite the stoney exterior.

Gran scoffed, the old matriarch beginning to hobble away. "There's our Grug now. The big baby."

Phil patted him on the back, "There, there, it'll be alright. Besides, I have a solution to your little problem."

He looked uncertain as Phil led him away from the serene couple, the rest of the family following behind. "What do you mean 'solution'?"

"Let's just say it's a wedding present for our favorite pair of lovebirds, Gruggers. You can help me get it ready, they'll take one look at it and want to stay forever." Phil then fondly nudged his friend's back. "Just please learn to use doors, Guy won't be happy if you tear a hole in their little love nest. Knocking will save you a lot of grief too"

"Love nest?" Grug echoed and for a moment the protective father that wanted to smother his daughter peeked out.

Before he could regret his decision, it was a joint effort to shove him towards the large tree on the property, hefting a sigh and pouting as Ugga just laughed.

And oblivious to the world around them, Guy and Eep stayed stuck together, joint by the heart.

[aftgficlibrary]

Mutual Pining Masterlist

Andreil

a chance to start again by eikoexe (M | Incomplete | 10/?)

Andrew Minyard was a consulting detective - probably one of the best. He lived a life alone and only kept well to his demands, solving more crimes than nobody could think possible. Wymack usually said he was stuck up on the job, Renee had been suggesting he finds himself someone to live with, just so he wouldn’t live a life full of solitude. Andrew said he didn’t need it, didn’t want it, that he was perfectly fine the way he was. But what if one day he met a boy who stubbornly tripped into his life? Who had been wanted by his father for running away? Who needed a place to stay… and who needed a home?

And so Andrew’s life changed when he met Neil Josten.

–

Or alternatively, a Sherlock AU where instead of Johnlock solving crimes, we get our Andreil boys.

Something, Nothing & Everything by TheBashfulPoet (E | 139,900 | 28/28)

Neil Josten is yet another name in a long list of identities used to hide a boy long since dead from a past blood had been spilled to forget. Essentially, he is and always will be nothing. And yet there has always been one thing that made Neil Josten real: music. After his mother’s death, music and singing were the only things tying him the threads of reality by the strap of a well-worn guitar. Too bad he’s pretty sure that it’s also going to be the thing to kill him. Especially when Kevin Day, international rock star and blast of Neil’s past comes waltzing back into his life demanding he joins the upstart and infamous band EXY as its new vocalist. To make matters worse, Kevin’s unofficial shadow, Andrew Minyard with a rap sheet taller than he is has taken an interest in the lie that Neil Josten and has made it his mission to uncover the bloodied truth that lies beneath.

By all accounts, Neil should just pick up his guitar and disappear like he’s done so many times before, but the chance to be real and seen is almost enough for him to plant his feet for the first time in 11 years he’s been running. Going into the spotlight means certain death, but Neil’s just not so sure that leaving it would mean anything different.

stars may collide by broship_addict, llheji (M | 20,664 | 2/2)

Moonlighting as Abram, member of the city's crime-fighting Foxes, Neil is doing a very bad job at staying under the radar. He's busy enough between his friends, patrol, and bickering with Andrew at work, but with the Ravens gang finally within reach and the reappearance of the Monster, he might have bitten more than he can chew.

(Or, how both Neil and Andrew accidentally fall in love with the same person twice. Lame.)

You Made a Monster Out of Me by basicallymonsters (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

He realizes that everyone feels exactly the same way he does, filthy and buzzed and understood and angry. His eyes find Andrew again, sober but animated like the drums are a live wire and he’s electric.

He thinks, if he could be part of this, if he could stand in the middle of the stage in a garden full of monsters, and sing the audience’s veins open, he would never need another drink, or another moment on court.

Prompt: Andreil in a rock band setting – tattoos, harsh lighting, calloused fingers, Andrew’s sweaty arms, Neil’s striking blue eyes, someone’s excellent voice, an uncomfortable undercurrent of drug abuse.

don’t take that sinner from me by wesninskids (M | Incomplete | 2/?)

In Bono, Alabama, a southern town where nobody ever goes, Neil Josten is a blind boy who used to read and write stories. Now he tells them aloud for his friend to write down, but things are quick to turn bland where there’s no color to see. He finds comfort in religion, thinking God can give him his eyes.

Then Andrew Minyard arrives in town in a dusty Impala and a crumpled suit, claiming he’s there to help Renee Walker take care of the church after the local priest’s death. Everyone soon starts wondering what his motives are and why he’d exile himself to a dead-end like theirs, mistrusting every word—but they’re after the wrong threat. Disillusioned and disappointed by religion, this lonely man of God came for a greater mission than preaching and blessing. He’s after something, and he might have just found it.

The blind boy of the town will either be his salvation or damnation, and he’s not sure which one yet.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence /Underage

doe & josten: deductionists by spanglebangle (M | Incomplete | 25/?)

Andrew Doe, rude but brilliant consulting detective, thought he had no need of a partner as he worked slowly away at dismantling the largest crime family in the country, helping out with other cases on the side to relieve the tedium. That was, until a scruffy runaway with a stupid amount of secrets stumbled into his life. Or, more accurately, broke into his kitchen.

/Rape/Non-Con / Graphic Depictions of Violence

roses are orange, and some also blue by apprenticedmagician (T | 1,295 | 1/1)

Dear Valentine, They aren’t poisonous. I checked. From - your pipe dream

wanting what you think you cannot have by orphan_account (T | Incomplete | 1/?)

this was a fic written for the aftgexchange on tumblr, but i decided to continue it as a multi-chapter fic on ao3! this is a fake dating au with no seth, riko/the moryamas, and drake so it’s the softest thing you’ll ever read

neil is a runaway, andrew works at a bakery, and nicky is really, really nosy. being someone’s fake boyfriend is a lot harder than it looks, especially when you’re hardcore crushing on them

double scoop by broship_addict (T | 3,733 | 1/1)

Neil serves ice cream and Andrew might be addicted. There’s a lot of blushing.

Series: Part 1 of share a pint, share a kiss

only fools by kazbrekker_morelike_kazwrecker (E | 19,833 | 20/20)

A flower shop/coffee shop AU that no one asked for but appeared in my brain and had to get out. Neil never played Exy and never met the Foxes at PSU, but his story with his father remains the same. Neil doesn’t like people much but neither does Andrew and everyone knows coffee brings people together

the foxtrot’s not for the faint of heart by kazbrekker_morelike_kazwrecker, smolmoll04 (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

The Foxes are a dance group working their way up from being mostly underground and found their new studio and Wymack as their producer. The Moriyamas are a powerful human trafficking syndicate and instead of Exy, they deal in dance competitions. Neil’s father wanted to sell him to the syndicate but his mother was like NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH and ran with him.

Neil has found the Foxes and a familiar face… He also gets to meet a certain sarcastic five foot tall blond and things ensue…

trust fall by emeryuu (E | 9,948 | 1/1)

Neil is a florist who loves his job but isn’t going to refuse a second job if he can make good money from it. Even if the said job is bartending at a club. Even if that club is a BDSM club.

Andrew is a tattoo artist working at the studio next to neil’s flower shop. He’s a regular at Eden’s Twilight where he always can find a sub willing to do a scene with him.

One night they meet at the club and that’s a beginning of a new journey for both of them. What starts as simple deal to let Neil explore parts of life he hadn’t chance to explore, slowly becomes something much bigger.

Series: Part 1 of games

hazel and gold by obsessedwithfictionalboys (T | Incomplete | 4/?)

AU in which Andrew doesn’t hate everything and Neil does not know how to deal with this beautiful nerd.

Allison/Renee (renison)

we all need sweets every now and then by downintheflames (M | Incomplete | 1/?)

A storm rumbled towards the team as they ran laps on the lacrosse field. Wymack had proclaimed they needed to breathe real air to get all their bullshit out of their system. Allison had complained about the humidity ruining her hair before she stopped to watch the clouds trip over themselves in the sky. Renee liked to think that in another life, Allison would have been a storm chaser. She was staring at the sky in awe while Renee stared at her. Andrew cleared his throat loudly. Neil nudged him softly then silently assured her that she should continue on - that the vulnerability was a good thing. Nicky rambled on to no one in particular about how one time when he was in Germany with Eric… Kevin slid his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the clouds so he could look up exactly what kind they were when they returned to the dorms. Aaron grumbled about how stupid running laps outdoors was. Dan barked at them to get a move on - that they wouldn’t stop unless there was lightning. Matt immediately picked up his pace with Allison following behind him. Renee shook herself out of her thoughts. Allison was her best friend and nothing more. Andrew needed to stop acting like her saying that was such a joke.

too late. by icebreeze (T | 1,555 | 1/1)

Life never goes to plan. Love is no exception to this.

you, just you by zucheenee (M | 17,651 | 1/1)

Allison grabbed another slice of pizza, leaning back in her chair. Renee worried, not for the first time, that she’d fall and give herself a concussion. Allison sighed and flicked a lock of long blonde hair behind her shoulder, suddenly looking up and meeting Renee’s eyes. “Boys are just so stupid, right?” She said, smiling prettily at Renee. Allison always smiled prettily, and Renee wanted to die.

“Right.”

In which Allison can’t seem to find the right man, and Renee wishes Allison would get a clue.

lonely ♡s club by modernpatroclus (T | 1,719 | 1/1)

“Next time you need an outlet, come to me. I’ll take you shopping, not beat the shit out of you.”

“Andrew doesn’t usually beat me. I was distracted this morning.”

Renee realizes she’s tired of being set up with gay boys. Allison realizes that she’s ready to move on from Seth when she sees Renee after her latest sparring session with Andrew.

Jean/Jeremy (Jerejean)

playing on by flybbfly (M | 142,179 | 31/31)

"Who knew California Golden Boy Jeremy Knox could play dirty?”

Jeremy grins. “Best kept secret on the west coast. Told you there was a western division striker who could dispossess you.”

“On a practice court, maybe," Jean says. "Try to get it away from me during a game.”

Jeremy leans back, bracing himself on gloved hands. “Luckily, I won't ever have to.”

In which Jean Moreau and Jeremy Knox play exy, share a dorm room, and accidentally insult each another a lot.

between hoping and believing by cryptidkidprem (T | 47,332 | 7/7)

Jean convinced himself a long time ago that he doesn't have a soulmate. Or maybe he just wants to believe that. Things would be easier if he was destined to be alone. It will at least hurt less when he inevitably winds up that way anyway.

And then there's Jeremy, who's been dreaming of meeting his match for years. For some reason, Jeremy seems determined to convince Jean that sometimes he might actually be able to have the things he hopes for, and that soulmate or no, Jean Moreau has people who will stick with him.

Two Bros Five Feet Apart by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) (M | 27,220 | 9/9)

Jeremy sniffed as he looked at his computer screen and the email he had just opened up. Every colourful picture and excited blurb just another stab to his tattered heart. And there at the bottom, the biggest blow of all, “non-refundable.”

He sighed and slammed his laptop shut, not caring that his rough treatment could damage it. Right now, he wanted to damage something. A significant portion of his savings had gone into these tickets and now he had nothing to show for it, no girlfriend, no awesome vacation, and absolutely zero chill.

Jeremy's girlfriend dumps him on the eve of a romantic vacation. Jean fills in.

dreams of being golden by poetatertot (M | Incomplete | 6/8)

The ocean is a healer. This Jeremy knows better than anyone. It’s why he came back himself, when all turned to nothing; it’s why he took the others under his roof when the shadows at their back threatened to swallow them whole. It’s why he lets Jean in when he shows up suddenly, his pale face a soft light in the darkness. Jeremy sees him and knows he can’t subsist as he is, alone.

The ocean can’t change Jean’s past, but maybe it can wash his future into smooth, clean sand the way it did for so many others.

Stupid (for you) by justdk (T | 1,647 | 1/1)

He’s not the only who cares for Jean, the entire team has his back, wants to see him get better. But Jeremy’s the only one who is completely, helplessly in love with Jean Moreau and it hurts.

Face to the Sun by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) (G | 1,272 | 1/1)

Jeremy and Jean have been pining for each other for too long. The Trojans plan an intervention.

Series: Part 3 of All for the Game Tumblr Prompts

Shield for a Heart by neilskey (spellitwithyourpeas) (M | 54,949 | 16/16)

“It’s your choice, but you’re rotting away in here, Jean and no matter what she says, you can’t live in Abby’s spare bedroom forever. Time to start fighting again.”

Kevin’s hard and commanding tone was no surprise. The softness had been beaten out of him around the same time as Jean.

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

Maybe it was because he had been half hidden in shadows-Jean had kept the shades drawn, but light still seeped in the cracks- but Jean thought he had seen something akin to understanding paint Kevin’s cool expression. “He’s gone. You survived. Play or don’t, it’s up to you, but you need to get out of this fucking house.” // Jean's first year at USC. Jeremy falls hard, Jean comes around eventually.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

eyes wide open by jaylocked (T | 13,496 | 2/2)

Jean blinked. Blinked again. Was sure he didn’t recognize the man on his doorstep, with his bright eyes and enormous grin and wavy blonde hair. Waited for him to explain himself with a simple raised eyebrow.

“Hi!” the man finally chirped. The sound was happiness channeled into a single word, and Jean wasn’t sure how he didn’t hate him already.

(based on the prompt from tumblr: "hi sorry I live below you and I hear your dog running around and barking all the time and– no no it's fine I was just wondering if I could pet it?" au)

Kevin/Jeremy

lit me up by thisisallmarvelsfault (M | Incomplete | 2/3)

When Jeremy goes to South Carolina to pick up Jean, he and Kevin go to the court with a bottle of vodka and Kevin brings up Nicky’s “list.”

[Or, the life and times of Kevin and Jeremy.]

Neil/Riko

burn, baby, burn by wesninskids (M | Incomplete | 3/?)

Nathaniel Wesninski is Riko’s precious #2, his best backliner, weapon of choice, and only mercenary—the first piece of his Perfect Court: in exchange of everything, thirteen year old Nathaniel gets his number tattooed on his cheekbone and becomes Riko’s partner for better or for worse. Soon Kevin Day and Jean Moreau join the envied line of Ravens and become partners in their turn, and the four of them chase after glory and find the missing pieces of their Perfect Court one player after the other, drunk on power and victory, caring for one another no matter what.

But then Nathaniel strikes a deal with Lola Malcolm to protect himself, and it’s all downhill from here.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

[selinahasonenicnac]

Daniel Sloss - Jigsaw

But I was seven years old, I didn't know what life was.

I didn't know what existence was, how the fuck would I know? So I thought I'd ask my dad 'cause he can fix a computer, so he must know.

So I was like, "Dad, what do we all do? What's the meaning of life? Why are we all here? What what the fuck?" And my dad loves his kids, so he wants to explain to his son in a way that he'll understand, but unfortunately, his son's a fuckhead.

So he has to explain it in a way that a fuckhead will understand, and he accidentally did it perfectly, and it's stuck with me since then.

This is what he said, right? I'm seven years old.

He goes, "All right, buddy.

Just imagine that your life, my life.

everyone else's individual life.

Imagine all of our lives are like our own individual jigsaw puzzles.

As we're going through life, we're just slowly piecing it together, bit by bit, based on experiences and lessons that we've learned, until we get the best picture, but the thing is everyone has also lost the box for their jigsaw.

So none of us know what the image we're trying to make is, we're just confidently fucking guessing.

So the best way to do a jigsaw, when you don't have the image to work off, is to start from the outside, the sides and the four corners.

Family.

Friends.

Hobbies/interests.

Job.

Now obviously, as you go through life, some of these bits are subject to change.

Sometimes you'll make new friends, and you'll lose contact with old so you gotta move this corner around a bit.

Sometimes you'll get a job.

That means you can't have a certain hobbies.

You gotta decide then, "Do I want more me time or do I want more work time?" You gotta move the stuff around.

Sometimes you'll have a family member that dies, and they'll leave a big hole in your life.

In that moment you'll have to find a way to fill that void, otherwise you'll be incomplete forever.

" Now, that made perfect sense to me, because I was seven years old.

I fucking loved jigsaws.

So I was like, "All right, okay.

So once you've got the stuff on the outside, what's the main bit of the image? What we are all working towards?" And he goes, "Well, that's That's the partner piece.

You and this perfect person who you've never met before to come out of nowhere, fit your life perfectly, complete you and make you whole for the first time in your life, much like your mother did for me.

" Seven.

Seven years old.

I wish you just said, "Ice cream!" And we could have fucked off.

And even though what he said sounds sweet and whatever, what it manifested in my seven-year-old brain was this, "If you are not with someone, you are broken.

If you are not with someone, you are incomplete.

If you are not with someone, you are not whole.

" And that's not just something my dad made me feel, that's something that we as a society have made every single child born in the last 40 years feel.

Every Disney princess has a prince, every prince has a princess, every television show or movie always has a character in it that doesn't want to be in a relationship.

They're happy with who they are.

But then by the end of the series, guess what.

They were wrong! They were wrong for wanting to be alone, what a fucking idiot.

Everyone needs someone, yeah.

They were just a toasty little marshmallow, weren't they? It's all to do with love.

Divorce, an entirely common thing that there is nothing wrong with.

When you're growing up and your friends' parents get divorced, you're told to not talk about it or mention it to them because it's taboo, and it is taboo is because every relationship on the outside is perfect, because none of us are willing to admit that none of us know what the fuck we're doing.

And when you raise children in that world, where everything points towards love and everything's perfect on the outside, when you've raised them for 18 fucking years, when we become an adult for the first time in our late teens and our early 20s, we're so terrified.

We're so trying to be an adult that some of us will take the wrong person, the wrong jigsaw piece and just fucking jam them into our jigsaws anyway, denying that they clearly don't fit.

Oh, we'll move pieces out the way, I don't need this hobby, I don't need this opinion.

Mom who? The bitch with the tits.

What's she done for me recently? I'm gonna force this fucking person into our lives because we'd much rather have something than nothing.

Then five years later, you're stood looking at a jigsaw you don't recognize, being like, "Ah! There's a fucking cunt in the middle of this.

" Maybe you do meet the perfect person.

Maybe you meet them, you go out.

They make you laugh.

You make them laugh.

They've got a stupid laugh, but you fucking love it.

They like what you like.

They like your idiosyncrasies.

It's great.

It's perfect.

Oh, my God, they've completed you.

For three months.

Every relationship is perfect for three months.

And here's why.

'Cause after three months, that's when you realize that nobody else is a jigsaw piece.

Everyone else on this planet is as deep and as complex and individual as you are, which means they too have spent the last 20 or so years of their life working on their own jigsaw puzzle, in the same way that you've been working on yours.

You can't suddenly expect them to give up everything they've come to achieve to suddenly fit into yours in the same way that you'd be pissed off if they asked you to sacrifice everything you've done, suddenly come fit into theirs, but now, because you like each other and because you're interested in each other, now you have to make a jigsaw together.

And we all know how fucking annoying that is.

But you do it 'cause you're in love and you're interested, and maybe for the first couple years, it's great.

It's like, "Oh, my God, you love this bit of me.

I love this bit of you.

Oh, my God, we got the same thing, yeah!" But time does not equal success.

You can spend five or more years with someone, and only then, after all the fun you had, be looking at the jigsaw and realize you're both working towards very different images.

Only then realize that you want different things.

And in that moment, you have a very, very difficult question to ask yourself.

One.

Do I admit the last five years of my life have been a waste? Two.

Do I waste the rest of my life?

[emotionallyconfusedpolyglot]

The Promised Neverland original speculation, observations, and commentary by me.

[#TPNTangents part one] I'm only halfway through episode 3 of The Promised Neverland and I'm calling it now : peculiar camera angles are actually Hunger Games-style cameras. Mama knows EVERYTHING. Also the character personality reveals during the OP animation and dialogue are very nice. Emma has a very loud and compassionate personality. She's selfless and clever. She's the most athletic and seems to the main main character. Ray is cold and calculating. Is somewhat of an engineer, he knows things about machines and whatnot. He has most obviously applicable collection of background knowledge and research skills. Norman appears to be a balance. More on the OP animation : Im guessing there's gonna be one scene where mama catches the gang with a flashlight. Eventually, all kids decide they want to escape so the older kids all self-assign themselves to 2 or 3 smaller kids. Symbolism : the butterly represents freedom. The cutting of the butterfly represents the first failed attempt that's inevitably going to happen. The flame might symbolize passion? The red string is definitely important but I can't predict why yet. The red flowers appeared in the series already but I'm not sure what they symbolize. Maybe they're superficial/intrinsic like Wisteria from KNY. During the white background parts of the OP, Emma is the only one who casts a shadow. Fascinating. Will keep watching.

[#TPNTangents part 2, warning : Substantial spoilers for The Promised Neverland] I just finished episode 4. First thing I want to point out is the map. I'm probably overthinking but here goes nothing. The map has the left and right ends cut off. On Russia it doesn't show anything east of Vesenny. On North America, it doesn't show anything west of Huslia. This creates 3 possible surface deductions : First, this is a universe in which the Bering Straight Crossing is still dry. Second, this is an incomplete projection. Third, this is a standard Mercator projection but the ends are cut off because the physical picture frame is too small. Next : Gilda you fucking rat. Also she isn't stupid. She's quite observant. I'm not sure what to think of her yet. The sound in this anime is sort of ridiculous. How does nobody hear Skonne's rants in her room? She's essentially yelling. If I was Mama I'd have Skonne shot for insubordination right then and there. As for the kid gang, they're really suspicious. Like it's really obvious from the way they group together just off the rest of the kids that They Know Things^tm. Skonne's facial expressions are second only to the soundtrack. I'm in love. Also that shit at the end, all these kids are in elementary school yet they have logical reasoning skills far superior to mine. This is like watching South Korean highschool debate shows, it makes me feel stupid. Here's to episode 5.

[#TPNTangents part 3. Warning : Substantial spoilers for The Promised Neverland]. I have just finished episode 5. First, I'd like to apologize to Gilda for calling her a rat. She's not a rat, I'm sorry Gilda. Also the double agent conversation between Norman and Ray was spectacular. The plot thickens. The BigBrains are very very big. Gilda is alright, Tom is an impulsive idiot. During the OP animation, there's something covering the moon. This could be important. In the very last scene of the OP, the trio breaks through a wall of jigsaw puzzle pieces. The profile background for Norman in the OP animation is a jigsaw puzzle. Interesting. Also please tell me if I've noticed something that you didn't notice in your watchthroughs. I want to see how my observational skills stack up against other anime fans.

[#TPNTangents part 4. Warning : substantial spoilers for The Promised Neverland]. I just finished episode 6 and that will be all for tonight. First I want to talk about the etymology. Speculation : "The Promised Neverland" has two parts. One as reference to The Promised Land in the Bible, a land away from the oppressors. This is backed up by the proposition of a society of humans outside the walls during the episode. The second is Neverland. This is a Peter Pan reference. The kids don't grow up because Pan kills them when they hit puberty. William Minerva has the owl symbol because the Owl is the companion or the representation of Athena/Minerva (Greeks and Romans shared some deities). During the OP animation (yes, I notice new things every time I watch. This is why I never skip it. KNY taught me that they can subtly change the animation and that you can miss things if you skip the OPs), during Norman's profile, on the background. Theres a bunch of things that make sense given the escape context but there also "HANP". This doesn't correspond to a word in English that I know which means it can't be an acronym. It also isn't an initialism for anything I can think of. Or Maybe I can? Minerva is the Roman Athena. That could be A? N for Neverland. P for promised. HANP also isn't an anagram for any word I know. It is also possible that these 4 letters change each episode to make a hidden message. This is the first time I've noticed the letters so I can't test my theory. During the OP animation, in the scene with the trio in a triangle, it isn't an equilateral triangle. It's an isosceles triangle. The camera angles positions along the triangle suggest a split between Norman-Ray and Emma. This is probably to signify Ray planning to trick Emma and abandon the younglings at the moment of escape. Norman is complicit in this. Emma is the one being deceived. Finally, I'd like to apologize to Don/Tom. His heart is alright. He's still emotional and impulsive tho. Tybalt with a heart. Goodnight bros.