#maybe next time i do a test or just play around with them ill record it

[notstilinski]

The Magnus Archives Starters !

Taken from  the 2016-2021 Rusty Quill podcast, The Magnus Archives! (These are specifically more of the ‘creepy’ lines). Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! 

“I’ve seen Dawn of The Dead. I know what the groans of the undead are meant to sound like but… it wasn’t that at all.”

“It’s funny how fear can just become as routine as hunger.”

“He said I’d know when I saw him because “All the bones are in his hands.”

“My father spent my formative years killing dozens of people, and I had no idea.”

“I do not know if you’ve ever felt your blood being sucked out of you, but I would not recommend it.”

“In both cases, they said that it was because they never really felt like I wanted them around and, looking back, that was kind of true.”

“I need that. I need you to tell me that it’s just coincidence and my mind’s playing tricks, and I need to not lose any more bits of me.”

“You’ve got to understand, I know dangerous, I understand dangerous, hell, I am dangerous. This was something else.”

“An eagerness to test my faith against whatever was inside (Name)’s soul. Not even considering that I might be risking it.”

“I’m so sorry… It wants your faith.”

“I cannot stress this enough… What answered was not God. It wasn’t him. Something else answered my call for protection.”

“I do worry about the state of my soul, of course, but there is little to be done.”

“I’ve cataloged and looked into enough of these mysteries to know that following that noise was a really, really bad idea.”

“Maybe she was sick and needed an ambulance. Oh god, maybe I’d left her to die.”

“No, sir, you have nothing to fear of the dead.”

“I stood face to face with a man with no eyes, and he saw me.”

“I think we both realized how messed up it was if she could list the number of times she’s seen (Name) in the sunlight.”

“How would a melody describe itself when asked?”

“By this point, I was just about sick of this weird thing that looked like a person but was not a person.”

“You don’t need to be smart to know when you’re surrounded by your own mutilation.”

“I didn’t like that smile one bit. Far too many teeth to it.”

“You can’t understand what it is to be prey.”

“The pretty young things complained, and I left.”

“Come quickly. We’ve taken ill. We’ve passed away.”

“It feels like if I say they’re real, whatever is watching will know.”

“I suppose that I can turn on the tape recorder while we’re being eaten alive.”

“Tens of thousands of tiny things without mouths screaming as one.”

“She was completely hollow aside from a few cobwebs that I could see in the streetlights.”

“It was my most prized possession. And all I had left of him after he used it to cut his own throat — The only sensible decision he ever made.”

“Really makes you wonder about gods housing standards. I’m just saying if it was my house? I’d be pretty pissed.”

“And hey, it wasn’t the first time that I broke into a church.”

“No, no. I’ll catch you when you’re not scheming.”

“I turned the very real feeling of unease into a fun sort of fear. Like I was just playing at being scared.”

“No one ever knows what they are really hearing or seeing.”

“He nods and says that that’s okay. He’s lying, and that makes me very afraid.”

“I don’t know how and I don’t know why but he took my brother away from me, and if I ever see him again? I’m going to kill him.”

“The person they think they’re seeing has been dead for years, but they didn’t see the change. They’re looking at a complete stranger and they have no idea.”

“The corpse went missing the next night, which makes me think he took it…”

“For obvious reasons, I can’t describe him. I can barely describe his absence.”

“I don’t want to but it’s my nature now. And you can’t fight what you are or even what you aren’t.”

“It’s not you. It’s his fault. He didn’t warn you properly, and now you’re stuck here with us.”

“The audience is only safe when the story isn’t about them.”

“Maybe the thing had some power to keep me there but, honestly, it was fight, flight, or freeze. And I froze.”

“The moment that you die will feel exactly like this one.”

“They never tell you how difficult it is to take a human life.”

“Safe hands where the skin feels wrong.”

“I don’t even have a voice box. I had to borrow this one.”

“Don’t turn on the light.”

“This place is evil, (Name), and I think doing what it wants probably makes us evil.”

“Pray the sandman only brings you sleep.”

“With a single, smooth motion, like ripping the tablecloth off at a restaurant, he pulled the skin at whatever had been pretending it was my brother.”

“What is it, do you think, that makes people so obsessed with horrific things happening to other people?”

“I think I finally understand why she brought me back, I just don’t understand why she left me behind.”

“I always tried to live like that. But I think sometimes, you feel like you’re adapting, but it’s just denial.”

“They don’t get that the only thing to deal with something like him is to watch his eyes go dead with your hands around his throat.”

“I’m going to hurt them, though. I’m going to hurt the thing that stole my brother and wrecked my life.”

“That's right. (Name). I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can… then I don't forgive you. But thank you for this.”

“There is nowhere in this universe where it would not blot out the sky.”

“It made me think of those winter mornings, when I was a kid, with no snow. Just frost and frozen mist over everything. Keeping the world in place. Curling you up into yourself and quietly waiting for you to lose your footing. Slip and fall. Snap.”

“You’re not quite human enough to die, but still too human to survive.”

“How do you know you’re the same person who went to sleep?”

“I thought moving away from my humanity would have made that more acceptable. That sacrifice. But it just makes me sad.”

“Afraid that any hesitation might make them reconsider. Might mark me out as something other than whatever he decided I was.”

“But as far as (Name) sees it, I’m not compromised anymore. And that… is better.”

“You’re still wearing her face.”

“Down here, I don’t hear the blood anymore.”

“You should know, if I wasn’t human before, I’m definitely less now.”

“Yeah well, when I get myself kidnapped three times in a row then I’ll listen to you.”

“You’ll kill me? I can hardly wait.”

“I know I made a choice. I made a choice because I was afraid to die.”

“It feels nice to hate something that can’t hurt me.”

“He needed a crew to follow him out of trust, not out of fear.”

“We were both trapped there, I think. Bound together in some sort of wordless misery.”

“Always respected you for that. Takes a strong stomach to not give a shit.”

“Sometimes, you just have to leave. Even if what’s on the other side scares you.”

“I’m not quite as much for decades-long campaigns of subtle terror these days.”

“The only reason this one feels special is because it’s happening to you.”

“I guess I’m just a bit burnt out on the end of the world.”

“We are merely sons of the dirt.”

“I wonder how much of them were still in there. How much they chose to be what they were.”

“How much do I actually care? How much of it is feeling like I should care?”

“They’re gone. They made their choice, and it wasn’t you.”

“It’s not in your blood or your soul or your destiny. It’s just in your own rotten luck.”

“I’m mourning a world I killed. And we’re all trapped in its rotting corpse.”

“Close your eyes. Ignore the sounds. You, at least, are safe.”

“We can’t fight the world, (Name).”

It means the journey will be the journey regardless of what we do to make it.”

“They won’t hear you. They’re too busy waiting to die.”

“Such devotion. You don’t deserve it. But you already know that!”

“Yeah. I think we should go for it. Get our murder on.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not going to kill a man just because you're jealous.”

“She knew that whatever was about to imminently kill her was going to rise up from deep inside her own body.”

“All things end. And every step you take whatever direction you may choose only brings you closer to it.”

“I don’t like me sometimes, and I am me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to let them just slip away.”

“He loved me, and I couldn’t even remember his face!”

“I can’t. There’s too many. I can’t save everyone. I can’t- I can’t save anyone.”

“Well, in that case, thank you for swinging by my huge corner of the apocalypse.”

“Cheerleading you when you were on a magical murder spree probably was t a great idea.”

“The time to run is over. The time to suffer has arrived.”

“I’m (Name). I’m here to help you, to treat you, to make it so you’re less of a … burden to everyone.”

“Not an hour from an oasis, and we’re already at Sinister Hospital.”

“We can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I supposed to be sympathizing? After everything you two did to people?”

“We arrive somewhere. Deliver terror and death. Then leave. Never to be seen again.”

“Maybe we don’t have to feel any way at all.”

“The journey will be the journey.”

“Hm. I didn’t like that realization.”

“I don’t know how to be this. I don’t want to scare people.”

“Because it makes the sadness feel at home. Turns it from a burden into… An indulgence.”

“I’m saying there aren’t any easy solutions. We have no idea what’s going to happen.”

“And, if it comes down to it, I’ll get (Name) to destroy me like the others.”

“That’s the problem. I could have grown to dislike her, but you made sure that sort of thing could never happen.”

“Of course I’m dangerous, (Name). I’m a monster, just like you, and you can’t kill all of us.”

“That isn’t exactly a surprise, is it? That the lonely seems comfortable to you?”

“I hardly call flooding the street with blood the ‘star treatment.’”

“So what? It’s just an eldritch popularity contest?”

“Oh, I’m the antichrist’s plus one.”

“It’s just hard not to look down on people when they put you up on a pedestal like that.”

“But you have to have hope in something, otherwise there’s no point in anything.”

“And you’re going to have to promise me that you’re going to do everything in your power to live. That you’re not gonna sacrifice yourself at the first opportunity just because you feel guilty about what happened.”

“We’re surviving. And trying to help others do the same. That’s not nothing.”

“Okay. I can still hate him even if I don’t blame him.”

“Doesn’t matter. (Name)’s here, and that’s all that matters.”

“For a while, it belonged to a sculptor of puppets, who made his strings from the tendons of those who he felt did not appreciate his art.”

“What about me? I didn’t think I was really important enough to kill.”

“I kept out of it, even when I got a pretty good idea of what was going on towards the end, but… I should have known better. Hiding never helps.”

I’d rather live the rest of my life lying awake wondering if I made the right choice, over lying awake listening to the screams of everyone on Earth being tortured!

“It took almost two years of crisis and trauma to even make us compatible. And that sucks. But here we are.”

“Probably for the best. Empathy only holds you back in the end.”

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy jack tubbo and george

requested yes/no

part 5 of the great adventures series

summary: training for the military

warning: cursing

AN: really sorry about this tumblr won’t let me change/add paragraphs so could look very weird

the journey there was quick for you, you spent the trip asleep in the back of the car whilst the others were discussing what you were all about to do “How difficult do you think it’s going to be” “dude it’s a military assault course” you woke up halfway there to the noise of the radio playing “afternoon y/n”“afternoon sorry I fell asleep I’m not used to being woken up early in the morning, I blame you guys and ranboo”“y/n have you ever wanted to join the military” “I can't say I have no” “well you’re going to love what we’re doing” “what are we doing” “you’ll see!”

you stood picking up more rocks and handing them to tubbo whilst Tommy and George began to film the introduction to the vlog “were in the jungle” confused you turned to tubbo “psst tubbo what the fuck are we doing, why are we in a woods” before tubbo had time to answer Tommy already began to answer your question telling you that you’re all training for the military, not taking him seriously you started laughing as you all were walking it was only when you were handed a jumpsuit to cover your clothes you realised it wasn’t a joke, you would be lying if you said you were ready for this, after all, you spent your free time playing Minecraft you wasn’t exactly great at sports

you managed to put the jumpsuit on pretty quickly unlike Tommy who was quite clearly struggling to get it on over his trainers “come on sergeant simons were doing a military assault course and you’re struggling to put on the clothes”after struggling to put clothes on the five of you stood together getting photos whilst you all looked decent “me and my boys in the jungle” “This isn’t going to go well” “we’re going to destroy it” “NO”

you hadn’t even reached the course yet and you were already tripping up over rocks and sticks that were on the muddy trail “we’re walking to our deaths..y/n is already falling over” “Hey I didn’t sign up to do exercise” once you finally reached the start of the course you were met with a canon, a dog and a man in a yellow jumper you stood as a team listening to what you were about to do and how you were actually a team of six, you hoped he meant the dog was a team member but no turns out the canon was the sixth member

“We have to take the canon with us” “...and take it apart into six pieces at each obstacle and rebuild it ” you handed your phone to the Russ, not trusting yourself to keep it on you especially since you were already tripping up before reaching the assault course “thank you” “good luck” “huh” you didn’t have time to process what was said as Mr military began counting down from three, the five of you ran to the first obstacle tubbo dragging the canon Tommy climbed over the net first with tubbo following after “What happens if I fall” it was as though you and tubbo had read each other’s mind as you both responded with “you’ll die” “death” you climbed over next with a wheel “reckon I can slide down the net” “that will hurt y/n don’t do- and you’re already doing it” you slid down the net despite George telling you not to do so, it didn’t take too long for the others to get over, you all began reassembling the canon “can we talk about our feelings” “I feel like shit I jumped out of a plane not long ago now I feel like I’m doing PE all over again” “Y/N JUST HELP BUILD THE CANON” “I'M TRYING ODDLY ENOUGH I'M NOT BUILT FOR THE MILITARY”once the canon was built Tommy and tubbo ran off with it “who’s going to tell them we need to test it” once Mr military shouted they ran back “why do we have to do this” “it’s the fucking rules Tommy and life is full of them” “like taxes” “tax fraud” a few seconds later the five of you yelled “bang” neither of you saying it at the same time “it didn’t work” “yes it did now come on”

you all ran towards the next obstacle, a giant wall. you all quickly dismantled the canon, Tommy went over first and began bickering with Mr military about him not being his dad whilst you tubbo and jack struggled to pass over the heaviest part of the canon “lift and lift” “really George? I thought we could just throw it over and hope he catches it” “Please don’t do that” “I am very sorry George but I'm struggling here” you continued your struggling tubbo tried to help Tommy through his words “you’re strong bossman I believe in you” “by the way, you really picked the shortest people to do this” part of the canon landed with a thud “welp hope he’s not dead” you climbed over next again carrying the wheel “he’s not dead guys don’t worry” you laughed as George took his time getting over the wall “I'm poving” “GET OVER THE WALL” you all stood questioning what time you were on completely forgetting that you were supposed to reassemble the canon “This is going to be embarrassing” “you guys could be rebuilding the canon” you could have built and tested the canon quickly however Tommy George and tubbo began telling people to subscribe whilst you built the canon with jack “we’re so good at this” “heh maybe not” you all test-fired the canon and made your way to the next obstacle

you were sent to go over the rope first, this was extremely difficult for you, the rope kept swaying as you walked causing you to lose your balance on multiple occasions “step on the V” “I’m going to fall” you made it over after a couple of minutes, like tubbo you also felt a bit ill, you assumed it was because it was quite hot and a lot was going on “how you feeling y/n” “Honestly, I’m jealous of ranboo, he’s at home living his best life and I’m in the middle of the woods overheating and climbing but no it’s pretty funny watching the others” you laughed as you overheard tubbo talking about how they’re only three obstacles in and how he’s going to die “YOU GOT THIS TUBBO!” Tommy crossed next, like you, he took his time he was then followed by tubbo who was trying to speed run walking over the rope you waited for jack and George cheering them on whilst Tommy was asking around for water and complaining about wearing a gamer hoodie. at this point, everyone seemed unmotivated “3 2 1.. bang”

“oh lovely..tires” tubbo went through first with the heaviest part of the canon “ill help you tubbo” you following behind helping him carry it due to it being stupidly heavily “so how are you tubbo” “AAAAAAAAAAA” “aye me too bud” you and tubbo decided that from now you two were going to work as a pair so it would be easier for you both, over the past few weeks tubbo became one of your closest friends the pair of you even started trending on Twitter as you did an irl stream where you both went on a walk at the beach and met several fans. whilst you and tubbo were making your way through Tommy jack and George we’re trying to figure out who should take what. “there’s piss in this one” “what the fuck?!” the pair of you finally got out from the tires “good job you two” “thank you” you rested your head on tubbos shoulder trying to get your breath back “I don’t think I’m made for the military” a few moments later Tommy made it to the tire full of water and put his finger in it “PEE” “Tommy why-” you stood looking around at the scenery, the sound of Tommy yelling about crawling away from George and that he’s ‘touched the piss’ was enough the drag you away from your own thoughts, you watched the others struggling to get through the tires and was amazed at the fact tubbo went back in to help them. you tried to ignore Tommy and George being dramatic as you tried to figure out how many more obstacles you had to go but you got distracted by George “ill just eat you if you die” “Mr military I’d like some help right about now” you walked over to Tommy and helped him get out of the tires “thanks y/n” “welcome” “how you doing bossman you know I pulled through your part...what are you doing that’s George's water” Tommy decided to throw the bottle to you so you could have a drink as he remembered you’d not had a drink since you landed from jumping out of the plane “Thanks, Tommy” “YOU BOTH DRANK GEORGES WATER” “he can drink the piss” “what Tommy said” you laughed as you walked over to where jack was in the tires “ HI JACK” “Jesus christ you scared me, hi y/n” you stood waiting for everyone to finish “I know exactly what the slowest time was” “we’re going for a new record it’s fine” “of being the slowest?” “yeah” “you know what Mr military ill clart you” “you’ll what me” “I’m gonna just go over here” you walked over to where parts of the canon were and got ready to assemble it again whilst George began throwing water over jack and tubbo to bless them then did the same to Tommy, you hid behind a tree thinking he wouldn’t notice you, however, he did and within a minute you too had water poured on you “Thanks, I was thirsty” “oh we know” “The fuck is that supposed to mean” “HELP BUILD THE CANON PLEASE” like last time you all built the canon tested it and ran to the next obstacle

“can we just you know drag the already built canon under there with us” “absolutely not” “I tried” you all disassembled it again and like last time you and tubbo went first crawling under “I don’t want to alarm you all but it is soaking wet in here” “delightful” a few moments later you were both working well “tubbo I’m scared of the dark and it’s pitch black” “you’ve got this bossman we’re almost done” you calmed down quickly until Tommy decided to jump above the pair of you

“SORRY” “TOMMY I SWEAR TO GOD” “YOU DICK” you laughed slightly and tubbo checked up on you “you okay?” “I'm fine if you’re fine” “come on let’s finish this thing” the pair of you continued and finished relatively quickly tubbo got out first “NEVER AGAIN” “Sorry about that buddy” “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU” you helped push part of the canon out so tubbo could easily drag it out he then reached out so you could hold his hand and help pull you out “I've never been so happy to see the light” the pair of you sat on the floor waiting for the others to finish, you both made a bet on who was going to laugh first somehow you won as tubbo laughed at George and jack struggling to crawl through “YOU LAUGHED” “OH SHITTT” Russ came over to you both whilst recording so he could ask about how everything’s going “I’m covered in mud and the jumpsuit is wet, it isn’t a good day for the y/n community it was dark as hell in there “Tommy is a dick and tried to kill me and y/n” “I DIDN'T TRY TO KILL YOU BOTH” “I think he heard us” “WE ALL DID WERE NOT DEAF” “NO, BUT ACCORDING TO INSTAGRAM YOU'RE DEAD” you stared directly into the camera “sometimes it’s like I still hear jack talking to me” George and jack started complaining about how much further the is to go and how it was dirty and Tommy's response about being sorry it doesn’t fit their tory lifestyle made you burst out laughing “YOU LAUGHED” “tubbo my beloved you laughed ages ago you’ve already lost” “But we’re equal now” “no” the pair of you stood bickering to the point you didn’t realise the others had finished the obstacle and were shouting for you to test the canon “Y/N TUBBO WE NEED TO TEST THE CANON” the pair of you ran over “3 2 1 BANG”

“just going to warn you all you see that black cloud over there” “oh yay a storm is coming” you grabbed a wheel and followed behind jack across the wooden bridge “y/n he’s been splintered” “oh no poor George” “these are my gaming fingers” “no gaming for you I guess” “Stop talking about gaming dickheads” you spent a lot of time talking to George and jack whilst crossing over trying not to fall over you all even made a few plans to stream a laugh and the stream ends on jacks channel soon

you were all building the canon again whilst being informed you weren’t even halfway through and already 40 minutes in “high score” “well it’s definitely high” “Y/N??” “coming tubbo hang on my shoelace came undone” after tying your shoelace you grabbed a wheel and caught up to tubbo “if you go over tubbo ill pass it over to you and we can keep doing that” this method worked well for you both tubbo would climb over you would pass the wheel and middle part of the canon then climb over and repeat the process you heard Tommy in the background complaining about the fact he’s wearing jeans and jacks response “Yeah but I’m wearing jeans” “tubbo and y/n are almost done and you’re complaining about jeans” “jean boy pops off” “I'M WEARING JEANS AS WELL QUIT COMPLAINING” “Can we just go home and play smash bros” “Tommy this was your idea I didn’t even get on an option” “Sorry about that y/n but you get to spend time with me and gogy” “lucky me” you weren’t going to lie this was hard work and you were exhausted you felt like you could just fall asleep right where you were stood however tubbo wasn’t going to let that happen “I’m never going on an adventure with Tommy again” “me either” this of course was bullshit and you were both going on another adventure soon you stood watching your friends struggle to get over the obstacles you decided to offer your support and went to help jack and George using a similar method to that you used with tubbo “thanks y/n” “anytime” “y/n you could have helped me, tubbo pulled me over I could have been injured” “very sorry to hear that sergeant simons sucks to suck I guess” you all reassembled the canon tested it and ran to the next obstacle “I hate it here” “there’s a storm on the way” “Thanks, y/n for the input” “welcome George” you all noticed the net luckily you didn’t have to disassemble the canon this very well could be because you were running far behind and a storm was on its way. you watched as the others went through and joked about tubbo losing his shoe and Tommy getting stuck, this obstacle wasn’t made for you either as you kept getting caught on the net “I'VE BEEN CAUGHT AGAIN” jack lifted the net for you again so you could easily crawl through “thank you jack” you all then made it to the next obstacle Tommy crawled on the metal bars with you following after him whilst George used the monkey bars once you all made it across you had to walk across many metal planks used to form a bridge Tommy walked close behind you knowing you were extremely clumsy and didn't want you to fall “irl nettles” “The fuck are you on about Tommy I don’t think you’re following my advice about going outside” you all dissembled the canon as you got to the tires the only difference this time was you needed to climb over them “it’s rather windy” “there’s dirt in my eye” like before you and tubbo used the same method “look at them go” “I LIKE A DA BEE” “I'M SCARED OF BEES” “oh okay” “Why do they keep taking the plank” “I don’t know tubbo just takes it and y/n follows” you both finished rather quickly and neither of you got injured or fell “really good job you two” “thank you Mr military” you stood leaning on tubbo watching George pick up random rocks and put them into his pocket similar to what you had been doing the entire way around the course “I don’t think George or y/n have been outside before they keep picking things up like souvenirs” “Y/N GEORGE HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN THE RAIN BEFORE” both of you just stared at Tommy making him laugh you helped the others get across the tires and even helped prevent Tommy from falling a couple of times. unfortunately, you ended up twisting your ankle but tried to ignore it not wanting to ruin the vlog for anyone, not that you would have, however it was clear you were in pain as you had started limping. one at a time you all crossed the rope “This is me climbing I am climbing” you cheered everybody on and then it was your turn

unlike the others the rope kept shaking as you walked across mainly because you were scared of falling and in pain all whilst trying to rush, this was clearly your least favourite obstacle of the day “take your time y/n don’t fall” “thank you jack I'm trying my best I promise” once at the end of the rope, Tommy took the wheel off you and helped you get down and pulled you into a quick side hug “you’re doing great let’s go we’re almost done” you knew your friends wouldn’t make you continue if you really didn’t want to however you were nearly finished and was determined to finish. you all reassembled the canon and made your way to the next obstacle

“there’s no way we’re getting through that without twanging a rope” “good luck” you and tubbo made your way through the ropes trying not to hit them, this proved to be a pretty impossible task and you ended up twanging the ropes several times, this mixed with everyone else’s failure to cross without hitting the rope meant you all had to do 20 push-ups, after reassembling the canon twice as you all didn’t do it correctly the first time and testing it you all had to do the push-ups “I’m sure y/n and George only did 3” “sorry bossman”

you all were finally making your way to the last obstacle determined to finish “Big Russ can we go to McDonald's after this” “sure” the five of you cheered and ran the last obstacle quickly disassembling the canon, you led the way over the obstacle tubbo Tommy jack and George following behind you, despite tubbo losing his shoe and George going backwards the five of you quickly completed the obstacle and reassembled and tested the canon running over to the finishing line

you all finally completed it and waited for your result “45 minutes easily” “1 hour 11 minutes and 46 seconds” “no way that’s a world record” “well we tried” the five of you stood telling people to subscribe before ending the recording and making your way back to the car

the car ride back felt a lot longer than the way there. you were all exhausted

“how’s your ankle” “it’s not too bad it’ll probably hurt more tomorrow morning”

“I'm still not over Tommy trying to kill me and tubbo” “I didn’t try to kill you” “sure” the rest of the journey was chaos you all screamed along to the songs on the radio eventually you all got to McDonald's and spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s company.

taglist

@l0ver0fj0y @c1loudee

[xsarcasticwriterx]

Wonderwall-part 5

Summary: Steve get closer to you the more your pregnancy advances and tony tries to keep his distance as he come to realize his feeling

Pairing: Tony stark x reader x Bucky barnes, some stucky x reader

Warnings: swearing, alcohol , some minor angsty angst, 

Notes: Ok i really like wonderwall right now so i'm going to update this more frequently (i say and watch i suddenly just hit a wall for this story)

Wonderwall masterlist

It had been a month since your ultrasound and tony had been so distant but steve had been very close with you and bucky. if bucky was away he was everywhere you were caring for your every move. Bucky appreciated it  and loved seeing you and his best friend so close.

You currently were laying in bed with steve watching a movie. your head was on his stomach and he was playing with your hair. you two were eating chips and really only half watching it as yall kept joking around. 

Bucky was on a mission so steve has been caring for you these past few days. “you feeling ok?” steve asked and you chuckled “for the tenth time yes i promise i'm ok” you said tilting your head looking up at him. he smiled down at you and booped your nose. you laughed and smiled “just checking you've been silent for a while” steve said going back to playing with your hair.

“I was just thinking how nice its been being with you” you said reaching up and stroking his cheek. he smiled softly down at you. he cleared his throat “uh y/n-” steve started to say but the bedroom door opened. “oh hey steve figured you'd be in here” bucky said walking in “hey babe” you said. bucky walked over and kissed your forehead and gave steve a side hug.

steve's head landed on bucky's chest as he kept messing with your hair. “heard you've been taking care of her these past few days” bucky said. “he's been a perfect gentleman” you said with a small giggle. bucky laughed and out his stuff down sliding next to steve. you laying on both of them your legs on steves lap and head on bucky's.

“Tony said he's planning a party to celebrate our return” bucky mentions. you turn your head at the mention of tony. He had been avoiding you recently. Anytime you came near him or tried to speak to him he ran off in the other direction or suddenly had things to do. 

“tony spoke to you?” you asked. bucky knew how tony was avoiding you more so because he was also avoiding bucky. “nope he told nat and also told her to tell me something about him being too busy planning to do it himself. i don't know” bucky said with a shrug

“he still avoiding you two?” steve asked and you and buck replied with a simple nod. you were hurt by it, he had started this vow of silence to you since you had told him your past. you started to wonder if maybe he saw you were too broken. did he even want to be in the baby's life anymore? you sighed before shaking your head “lets go tony cant avoid me there” you said sitting up. 

“sweetheart honey you can barely spend an hour without puking or getting nauseas at least” bucky said stroking your hair “ill be fine. were going no if ands or buts about it” you said huffing and standing up. you walked to your closest and steve turned to bucky “there's no point in trying to change her mind” steve said and they both chuckled. you found a dress and set it up on the door handle. “now what time is it at?” you asked with a small clap. 

bucky gave a small laugh before speaking. He knew that he had no choice but him and steve would be on your tail the whole time making sure your ok. “9pm” bucky said. you gave a small nod looking at the clock which said 5pm in glowing letters. only 4 hours then tony has to speak to you.

at 8:00 you walked into the large bathroom attached to your room.stripping down you looked in the mirror touching your small stomach bump. you were close to the 2 month mark and your stomach was starting to prove that. you walked into the shower letting the warm water wash over you. you closed your eyes relishing in the warmth. you soon felt arms wrap around your waist, one human one metal. letting your head rest on bucky's chest he gave an approving groan before reaching for a bottle of soap and washing your hair. “how are you feeling today?” bucky asked massaging your scalp “mmm good steves been so much help and such a great friend when your away its nice” you said with a small smile. 

Steve was almost always around you and bucky. Anything you needed he got you any help you needed he helped. whenever you got sick he kept your hair out of your face. he’d always help you wash up after. he cared for you when your emotions got too prominent and took control. he kept you still doing small exercises and even researched what you should do when you got self conscious of all the weight you were gaining. He slept in your bed holding you close on days bucky was gone and you couldn't sleep. He cared for you, more than you or bucky knew. 

This isn't just for you though, he spent every moment not with you with bucky. they researched on the baby together things to do once their born how to be a good parent. They even tested how to make baby bottles even thought you had almost 7 months to go before the baby was born. you often walked into the room to find the two boys joking around, laughing. There was the one time you walked in on them slow dancing together to music from the 40′s. They said it was from the last dance they had gone to. You of course recorded it and kept it no matter how much they begged you to delete it. Steve cared for you two and would put his life on the line for you two even if it meant it'd be the end for him.

You stepped out of the shower and bucky followed after wrapping you in a towel. “steve is great isn't he” bucky said with a soft smile. “yea” you replied with a soft smile of your own but also a smirk. you looked at bucky's soft reaction to hearing your approval of steve. how his eyes glistened in happiness and a small smile stayed pressed on his face.

When bucky had first showed up at the compound the connection him and steve had lead you to believe they were together. One night you asked steve and he gave a small laugh before telling you otherwise. Not long after you started seeing bucky. You were honestly shocked nothing was going on between them and nothing had ever gone on. The chemistry they had was unbelievable and the sparks was as if someone was trying to start a fire.

Thou bucky had also thought you had a thing for bucky when he returned into steves life. The way you two smiled and laughed with one another. He saw it as a couple, he was never jealous just happy his best friend finally found someone. That was till you asked him out and he was confused. That lead to you telling him how you thought him and steve were together.

You slipped into your nice dark blue dress. you and bucky walked into the loud living room at 9:00 seeing everyone dancing and drinking. steve spotted you two immediately running over. “hey you two” he said with a large smile. “have you seen tony?” you asked. steve pointed to the bar where you saw tony drunkenly flirting with two girls. rolling your eyes you strolled on over leaving the two boys together.

 “shes gonna beat his ass if she has two isn't she?” steve asked and bucky patted his shoulder “that's our girl” bucky said before walking into the group chatting with other, That remark ‘our girl’ caused steve to chug down the rest of his strong drink. He wanted more no needed more but he really didn't want to enter the warzone known at you and tony.

You grabbed tony's jacket shoving him against the bar. the girl ran off in fear and tony put his hands up in surrender. you slapped him across the face before grabbing his jacket again “listen here stark your not getting away anymore ok. not happening nope. now your going to tell me why your avoiding me or ill keep slapping you till you do” you said pulling him forward and slamming him against the bar again. 

Steve had walked over to natasha stealing her drinking downing it too. “jesus what's up with you?” she asked seeing her tipsy friend. “thor you have any asgardian alcohol on you?” steve asked. thor nervously handed his friend a small shot of it. steve immediately downed it feeling the tingly sensation down his body “them” was all steve said “both of them” he said dropping his head onto the table. they immediately got it “so you finally admit it huh?” nat asked rubbin steves back steve lifted his head “you knew?” he asked. and thor laughed “of course we knew everyone did except tony,y/n, and bucky obviously” thor said. steve groaned and rubbed his face “what do i do?” he asked. nat patted his shoulder “tell them dumbass” and with that steve asked for another shot from thor.

You were still interrogating tony “I told you i cant say”  he replied and was hit with another slap. at this point his face was numb. “Bucky will slaughter me if i do and ill never be able to see my baby” he said tears brimming his eyes. “tony just tell me i wont let that happen” you said releasing your grip on him. “i cant” he said. you slapped him once more. tears fell “tony” you huffed out. he looked at you before rolling his eyes shaking his head “i'm in love you” he said tears flooding out, and with that he walked off. you felt your whole body freeze. you sat on the couch in the corner.

bucky walked over sitting next to you “you get your answer?” he asked. you cleared your throat trying to act natural “uh no no he would say i dont know” you said with a shrug. bucky groaned kissing your temple before walking back to the people. about an hour later a drunk steve plopped next to you. “heeeeeey” he slurred. you laughed before replying “hi stevie” you said ruffling his hair. it had grown out a little sense he'd been so busy caring for you he never had the time to cut it but honestly you thought he looked nice with it a little longer. “your so prettyyyyyyyyy” he said falling into your lap. you laughed and smiled down at him “your pretty too” you replied. steve pouted and you were confused but also adored it, he looked like a sad puppy. “what wrong stevie?” you asked rubbing his torso

“I have an issue” he said squirming and groaning. “what is it?” you asked tilting your head “i am in love with your boyfriend” he said. you laughed a little leaving steve confused. “I know” you replied. “huh?” he asked sitting up. “well yea i mean i knew” you said with a shrug “is that it?” you asked and he shook his head “i love you too” he said his head falling back. “me?” you asked with a small smile. “yes youuuuuu i am in love with 2 of the most perfect people and they love each other” he said slurring. “wait” he said looking at you “your not mad.” he stated. you laughed “no stevie a little shocked you love me? sure but i knew you love bucky always have and its not like you can control who you love” you said with a  shrug. “look tomorrow when your sober tell bucky just trust me. tell him. ill deal with him after” you replied. steve fell into your lap again.

once he was asleep you gave a small smile to him “i love you too stevie” you sai combing through his hair. bucky walked up to you “he asleep?” he asked. you nodded with a small smile. bucky lifted steve bridal style starting to walk to steve's room “where are you going?” you asked. bucky looked at you dumbfounded “to put him in his room” he said confused. “come on” you said entering you and bucky's room. bucky shrugged walking in, he layed steve down and he immediately curled into a pillow. “why here?” he asked. you gave a small shrug and smile “cause he has something to tell you tomorrow” you said leaving bucky confused.  Of course you still had no clue on what to do about tonys confession but that was another problem for another day. maybe one where bucky wont slaughter tony for it.

Tag list

@vicmc624 @mylifeispainandiloveit @frostay​

[daddysfangirls-anime]

To bare my hate (2/3)

Warning: Angst, language, mention suicide, attempted suicide, mention of child abuse, death, murder, blood

Mirio x reader

1 | 2 | 3

Taking Nezu and Aizawa’s advice Mirio was determined to spend more time with (Y/n) but only to prove to them that she was a Villain and had bad intentions.

“What are you doing” Mirio demanded as he found (Y/n) sitting in the grass outside writing in a journal and watching people.

“Getting sun. Vitamin D is very important for the immune system,” she stated looking up and smiling gently up at him. Looking at her notebook and quickly snatches it from her looking at what despicable plans she was writing down. Instead, he finds pictures, more specifically, sketches of different people ranging for students to teachers, they were really good. Mirio scoffed and tossed the book back at her hitting her in the head. She mumbled a soft ‘ouch’ rubbing the spot on her head that was hit she still smiled at him sweetly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“What are your plans?”

“Well, I’ve finished my homework so I don’t have much to do for today. Maybe I’ll take a nap after this. Unless you want me to do something for you that is”

No, Villain would give up their plan so easily although she seemed nice he knew it could all be an act. He had made the mistake of misreading a situation before and lost Eri the first time he would not do it again.

He took a seat on the grass next to her and said nothing. She didn’t say anything either continuing her drawing and watching people.

“Why are you drawing these people?” Mirio asked

“People are interesting. People look interesting. Everyone is different. If you look close enough you can see even the smallest differences.” he looked at her confused.

“For example, Present Mic is more tired than Aizawa. You see, Although Aizawa is always sleeping about he is always alert, well-minded, and his work is done. Present Mic, on the other hand, is always drinking coffee, speaking often loudly and rapidly, acting erratically, forgetting, and falling behind in work. Plus Aizawa has two jobs a hero and teacher Mic has four a hero, teacher, Dj, and running a radio station. Aizawa and Mic just handle stress differently. Aizawa often avoids unnecessary stress if possible with his naps while Mic likes to run into stress head first or panic. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Aizawa and Midnight that man wouldn’t function properly.”

She turned her journal towards him showing him a sketch of Mic sleeping at his desk Aizawa putting a blanket over him and Midnight closing his laptop.

“You seem to know a lot about the staff here”

“Well, I do spend a lot of time with them. They are my family.” (Y/n) began to gather up her things and stood up “ This was nice we should do it again sometime. Bye, Bye Mirio.”

Mirio wanted her to stay talk to her more possibly get more out of her but he couldn’t find a way to keep her there and instead watched her walk away. She seemed so kind, so nice, and innocent but Mirio knew better this had to be an act of some sort. She was playing everybody and he was going to expose this game sooner or later. He was going to learn her secrets. She was a villain and he was going to prove it.

-

Mirio continued the action of spending time with (Y/n), even though he didn’t like her or want to, learning as much as he could or what she would tell him. Mirio's treatment towards her was unkind and a few people witness. He had a habit of insulting and belittling her and even physically hurting her, but nothing too serious( the small physical assaults stopped after Tamaki stepped in). But the most upsetting part was that (Y/n) took it all with a smile she never spoke ill of Mirio, never told on him, or fought back. She took it and never said a word just smiling and letting him go on.

“You’re not being very nice,” Nejiro said scolding Mirio as they watched (Y/n) walk away smiling as usual. (Y/n) hadn’t done very well on a test when the results fell out of her binder Mirio picked them up and began making fun of her for her low scores.

“I’m trying to provoke her so she’ll so her true colors”

“It didn’t look like that” Tamaki mumbled to himself but the others still heard him, they choose to ignore the comment.

“She’s a villain how is no one else seeing this?!”

“Probably because they’re so focused on the guy that’s bullying her,” Aizawa said casually walking by them

“Who?” he stopped and looked directly at Mirio.

“You. You are so convinced she’s a villain that you didn’t take a moment to think that maybe she’s a victim.” Aizawa said walking away shaking his head with a look of disappointment.

“He’s right,” Tamaki said he was now facing the wall appearing in a slump.

“You should talk to her and actually get to know her. Ask her what really happen? You might find out something new and interesting” Nejiro said poking his cheek before leaving him in the hall very confused and conflicted.

-

“Are you a villain?” Mirio said barging into (Y/n)’s room she was lying across her head she slowly sat up.

“No”

“Your parents were heroes and good people and you killed them.”

“... I let them die but I didn’t kill them.”

“How is that not the same thing?”

(Y/n) dragged her feet she didn’t want to go home she wasn’t ready to go home but it was too late she had done everything in her power to stall going home. Staying late at school doing homework, studying, and helping teachers, Taking a long way home, pretending to get lost, offering help to those she pasted. But now there was nothing more she could do and she had to meet her faint.

As she took slow steps home it began to rain but she didn’t pick up her pace if anything she took smaller steps and let the rain soak through her clothes she didn’t care.

Honestly, (Y/n) was praying neither of her parents was home and they instead got called away on some useless job. (Y/n) parents are famous pro-heroes their high popularity stemmed from them being an adorable couple with compatible quirks. But what happened on the outside was always very different than what happened on the inside. On the outside, they were heroes they saved people and worked for justice on the inside they were none of the such she had the scars and bruises to prove it. Looking can be deceiving.

As she crossed the bridge leading to her house she stopped and looked over the edge.

Maybe this life wasn’t cut out for her. Maybe that was what all this was life telling she wasn’t wanted and that she should go before it got any worse. She steps to the railing. Maybe she should join Ken. Ken was a friend of her life got too hard for her both home and school the bullies were too much and she deicide it was all the signs of life telling her to give up and give up she did jumping off of this very same bridge and year and a half earlier.

But as much as she wanted too she couldn’t join Ken she had promised her she’d become a hero for her. And she was working towards that goal attending UA, although it was a bit of set back being put in the general education course she would continue to work towards her goal and make Ken happy somehow.

Stepping back from the railing she continued her slow walk home.

When (Y/n) finally arrived home she found her front door ajar slowly and quietly she steps in the house. In the hallway by the front door, she found her father a large amount of his left side was missing and blood was everywhere. He was dead. But she wasn’t phased she didn’t care carefully stepping over his body and around the blood, she continues into the house.

She hears whimpering in the living room and follows the sounds. There she finds three men in plague doctor masks. Two standing against the wall and one kneeling over her mother who was beaten and bloody laying on the floor.

Ignoring the men she looks down at the woman laying on the floor. The woman reached for her with shaky hands

“..Mother?”

There was a cry and then her blood was everywhere and her head was gone.

“Oh” was all (Y/n) could say as she looked at the blood-stained couch. She was unphased by the woman's murder, honestly, she couldn’t call her mother and probably shouldn’t she never was.

The man stood and slowly walked towards her “ I just killed your mother yet you don’t seem phased. why is that ?”

“She was never a mother, to begin with, nor he a father... Are you going to kill me too? Can we do it somewhere else I don’t want to die next to them.”

He stepped forward raising his hand towards her cheek just inches away from touching her “You’re... interesting”

“ I... I just didn’t care at that point... God, that’s terrible isn’t it” (Y/n) said laying on her back covering her eyes at the ceiling a small smile on her face.

Mirio was really confused now. He was upset to hear that her parents, pro heroes at that, were abusing her but he was also angry thinking she had walked away with Overhaul after she witnesses him kill her parents. It was all confusing.

“Your parents were hurting you and you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked now sitting at her desk.

“I didn’t think anyone would care, they were pro heroes and I was a little girl who already had a bad record. I was blamed and accused of a lot of things I didn’t do at school. After they were killed it was found out because our house had security cameras Overhaul had taken the footage from that night but left everything else. The police found it but didn’t do anything with it because they were already dead. They didn’t make it public as they didn’t want to ruin their image after death.” she sighed  

“Why did you join Overhaul? You watched him kill them.”

“No one ever cared abomhut me before he came along. Not even the heroes were good to me. He took care of me he was so good to me” (Y/n) closed her eyes as tears slowly streamed down her face “ He was so good to me, no one was ever good to me. I-I didn’t deserve such goodness, I don’t deserve it”

As (Y/n) began to sob Mirio didn’t know what to do rolling over he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder as she continues to cry. And they just sit there without words.

[tainted-wine]

Tuning In Tonight

Present Mic x Reader (NSFW)

(A 10k story because I have no self-control. Here’s a fic about a troubled cafe employee that turns into a Mic fan and later SEX)  

You soaked in the heat of your apartment after enduring the chilly walk back home from work. Wasting no time, you tossed your coat aside and kicked off your shoes before plopping onto the bed. Another week, another paycheck. Today was exceptionally busy at the cafe. Fridays always were, really, but today had put you to the test against quite the cast of characters. But even in the face of screaming kids with careless mothers, business people with absolutely no patience, and teens that didn’t think you were worth making eye contact with, you prevailed. You liked your job, even with the odd rough days. The staff was kind, the pay was fair, and the fact that it was smack-dab in the middle of the city means that it was visited by the occasional hero. Those were the days that filled you with joy, taking you back to the times when you dreamed of having the same career. But some things just weren’t meant to be. Your younger, more passionate self would chide you for accepting this life. For not using every breath in your body to ensure that you would one day become a hero that everyone remembered, but such persistence would only hurt you more in the long run. At least you were still able to find a comfortable living elsewhere. You settled with the cards you were dealt just fine, and yet that’s exactly what bothers you. Is it really okay to just give up and settle this after trying so hard? 'Nope, my mind’s not going anywhere near that rabbit hole today.' You sprang back up, heading to your room with extra pep in your step to undress and prepare a shower. The hot water soothed your tense body and cleared your mess of a mind. There was no room for any negative thoughts on a Friday night, the nights that you always look forward to the most, because it was time for the weekly radio show hosted by the lively pro hero Present Mic.

Your first experience with the show happened months ago, during a day where you were feeling extra exhausted for no particular reason. Turning on your old radio to lift your spirits, you happened to tune in just in time for the voice hero’s live caller segment. ‘Why not?’ you thought to yourself as you dialed the station's number and patiently listened to the rings. “Hey, thanks for calling, my dear listener! Hope you’ve been having a rockin’ day today!” There was something about having such an energetic and carefree voice directed to you that just brightened you up from inside. The conversation didn’t last very long, your sudden shyness being part of the reason why. It ended with you honoring the usual routine of requesting a song before disconnecting. As short as the encounter was, it left a strong impression, and you wanted it to happen again. Just like that, you became a loyal fan of Put Your Hands Up! radio. It was a great way to end work for the week, winding down and getting ready for the weekend as the station played a wide variety of tunes. And every time Mic was ready to take calls, your phone was ready to dial. You talked about whatever came to mind—how work was treating you, discussing his latest accomplishments as a pro hero, sharing silly events the two of you had in life. Whatever you discussed, no matter how mundane the topic, Mic always sounded eager to listen and respond with the boisterous voice he was known for. Even on the nights where you felt especially drained or under the weather, his unwavering enthusiasm never failed to clear the dark clouds over your head. In short, he was a lovable guy. So you relaxed and killed some time with the help of the internet and some phone games until that special hour arrived. You turned to the station and was greeted with the loud intro that took some getting used to. “Yeeeaaaahh! Present Mic here, and thank you for tuning in to Put Your Hands Up! Are they up? Because we’re about to get started!” And so begins the music that you swear is just a playlist of the hero’s personal favorites. You laid back on your bed and let your mind drift as the songs played. Your friends plan on meeting up for a movie tomorrow; can’t miss out on that. Maybe you’ll stop by the store afterwards so you can restock your fridge. What should you do Sunday? Meh, just make it a lazy day and hang around at home, you suppose. You returned to your phone and continued scrolling through your favorite websites. Time went by quicker than expected, Mic’s announcement of taking calls catching you by surprise. The first few calls were picked up by other listeners, doing the usual routine of sharing their day or talking about recent issues. Mic gave advice wherever he could, and his desire to help anyone who was willing to reach out to him felt so damn genuine that it made you smile. Another call was picked up before yours. Oh well. You listened to what ended up being a youthful male on the line. “H-hi, Mr. Present Mic!” The nervous yet excited voice was pretty heartwarming. A young teen, most likely.

Mic laughed. “No need for the ‘mister,’ listener! You’ll make me feel old!”

A bunch of frantic stuttering could be heard from the boy. “Ah, so sorry, sir—I mean mister—I mean Mic!” You giggled along with Mic as the poor boy tried to collect himself. “Deep breaths, little listener. What’s on that speedy little mind tonight?” “Well,” the boy had finally steadied himself. “I’ll be finishing middle school soon, and I’m ready to start training to be a hero. I just really hope I can get into U.A. and meet you! I wish you could be my English teacher!”

Awww. “Shucks, little guy. First, good job on finishing up middle school. I hope your parents have a rockin’ party ready for you! Second, you’ve got guts for aiming for the highest! Make sure you study and prepare, 'cause U.A. only accepts the best!” There was a pause on the other end. “So, is there a chance that I won’t make it?" “My little listener,” you could tell that there was a gentle expression on Mic’s face as he spoke. “There’s always a chance, so I want you to promise me one thing. If that chance hits you, don’t give up on your dream. Get the most out of whichever school accepts you. You know how many amazing heroes I met who came from schools with pretty lame reputations? There’s a lot of them, trust me. I’ve also met my share of cocky young heroes who rag on others just because they don’t have the fancy brand of U.A. or Shiketsu on their resume. That’s all it is, kid. A brand. Just because you couldn’t strike a deal with a major record label doesn’t mean your music career is already dead.” “Music?” the boy said in confusion. “But I’m not talking about mu—oh…metaphor.” Mic chuckled lightly. “There ya go, listener! Your language is doin’ fine. You don’t need me! But if you think you do, you know where to call me for another chat!” “I do!” the boy said happily. “Thank you, Present Mic! I promise I’ll keep doing my best!” You listened to the two talk for a little longer. The boy had some real determination and you admired it. He’ll hopefully reach his dream. You won’t wish ill will on others just because you didn’t reach yours. Giving everything you had and still not being enough was something no one deserved to experience. The boy had requested a rather angsty rock song that was trying really hard to sour your mood, but you’re not going to give the depressing vocalist what he wants. On the next segment, you internally rejoiced when you hear Mic’s voice in your ear. “Hey there, Mic.” “Oh? Is that my favorite lady listener I hear?” You giggled at the flattering question? “Maybe? I didn’t know you had favorites.” “Ah, you’re right! Not very professional of me! Don’t worry, listeners! I swear I love you all equally!” He boomed. It’s moments like this that taught you to keep your phone a fair distance away from your ear when you speak to the great voice hero himself. “So how’s the cafe treating you?” After so many talks, Mic had learned a few personal details about you, including your job and the area you worked in. He’s commented on how humble your life sounds; you didn’t disagree. “It’s been the same. Nothing new.” Your plan was to share one of your experiences with the more unruly customers today, but something else was weighing on your mind now. “Come on, girl. You’ve gotta have something spicy to share with us, don’t ya?” “Actually,” the last call was really sticking to you for some reason, you couldn’t help but let it slip out. “I want to say that what you told that boy was very sweet. And I was wondering…” Your voice caught in your throat. “I was wondering…” ‘Is it okay to give up?’ You didn’t want to say that. ‘What if you sacrifice everything you have, but still fail?’ You don’t tune in to be a downer. ‘Did you know that I was like that boy once?’ You talk to Present Mic to feel good. “Wondering what? You still with me, listener?” Mic asked. The concern in his voice urged you to spit something out already. “I was wondering exactly which pro heroes you knew personally. You said that you’ve met a lot,” you lied. You weren’t wondering that at all. Still, you won’t mind hearing his answer. “Ha! Where do I even start? Now’s the perfect time for some free promotion for the awesome heroes out there that deserve some sweet limelight! Let me start with a cool guy named Koi. He’s pretty new to the scene and works on the coast.” He went on and on about many lesser known heroes you weren’t familiar with at all, but that made the information all the more intriguing. He spoke highly of each person, listing their accomplishments and how hard they worked to get where they are. As always, he managed to perk you back up. You made a mental note to look up these heroes later. “Whoa whoa, record scratch, guys! The lady’s got me rambling for way too long. Trying to soak up all the time, are ya?” He sneered in the most light-hearted way. You laughed innocently. “Of course not! You were being so passionate about every hero that you mentioned, I didn’t have it in me to stop you.” “Well, I’ll forgive you just this once! You know how to end it. Hit me with that request!” The rest of the broadcast carried on through the night as a drowsiness began to creep on you. You listened to the last of the songs while getting cozy under your sheets. “Time to finally put those hands down! It’s been a blast, listeners! I hope you’re ready to rock with me next time! Good night!” You switched off the radio and finally allowed yourself to drift off. ‘Good night.’ ——— The weekend had flown by. Before you knew it, it was back to business at the cafe. You were always thankful for not being part of the morning shift on Mondays, your co-workers sharing horror stories of the tired and moody zombies demanding complicated orders as quickly as possible. Your shift started at noon. The day was going by smoothly, no wrenches thrown into your usual pattern. Small talk with the customers, impressing the regulars by guessing their orders correctly, practicing your latte art, it was a meditative cycle for you. By the time the sun was down with no recent customers, you were ready to start cleaning up. The place closes in less than twenty minutes and the rest of the staff was sitting around patiently. A ring at the door alerted you all to the sight of a man briskly walking in, gripping at his overcoat as he recovered from the cold outdoors. “Welcome sir,” you greeted while heading to your position behind the counter. The other workers gave their own welcome and followed suit. “Hey!” He said loudly. “Didn’t mean to barge in like that. It’s cold enough tonight without all of this wind.” The voice made you pause. The man approaching you had blonde hair pinned up into a messy bun, some stray locks hanging freely. He adjusted his glasses as he flashed you a smile. That voice…and paired with his appearance…there was no doubt about it. 'Present Mic?' “Heh, looks like I’ve been exposed already!” Mic said with a chuckle. You placed a hand over your mouth, not realizing you had said his name out loud. “Sorry, it’s just really nice to meet you in person. I’m a fan.” You thought you saw him pause as well, eyes widening for a brief moment before asking, “Are you, now? And have we talked before, dear fan?” His voice was calmer than what you were used to hearing on his show. “We have, on the radio. Quite a few times, actually,” you admitted. And with that, his smile was enhanced to blinding levels. “My favorite lady listener! I thought I recognized that sweet voice!” Mic didn’t seem to respond to your blush and kept going. “I remember you said that you worked around here, but I sure didn’t expect to bump into you!” “Well, fate’s treating us both well tonight. I can’t properly express how excited I am to meet you while on the job. What can I get you tonight?” You hid behind your professionalism and waited for his order. Mic rubbed at his chin and pondered. “Well, I’ve been convinced by word-of-mouth that you guys have some yummy pastries. What do you think will go well with some hot cocoa?” Fortunately, the cafe’s menu was practically branded into your mind, so even the presence of a pro hero isn’t enough to make you draw a blank. “I’d personally recommend one of our warm treats. Maybe you’d like to try our filled croissants? The strawberry one is my favorite.” “Mmm, sounds delish. I trust you,” His grins were seriously trying to make you melt. “Hit me up with a cocoa and a strawberry croissant for here!” After taking his order, Mic seated himself at a table to wait for his sugary meal. As you prepared his chocolate and croissant, you couldn’t resist stealing an occasional glance at him. He was studying the cute decorations that littered the place and gently bobbing his head to the indie music playing through the speakers, but the two of you happened to lock eyes once, forcing you to immediately look away. Whenever you saw him in the media, his eyes were usually obscured by the orange shades that went with his hero outfit. Now you realize just how green they are, almost as if they glowed. It didn’t take long to prepare his order, and you decided to grant him the special treatment of delivering the food to his table. There was no one else to serve, after all. “Hey,” he said. “Would you mind sitting down with me?” Your heart fluttered. “Not at all, Mic.” You pulled back the chair opposite to him and took a seat. “Call me Hizashi.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Present Mic is always too busy for a snack break.”   “Of course, Hizashi.” You listened to Hizashi’s compliments on the food and drink, trying not to stare as he ate. You were always so sure that he couldn’t possibly be as loud and lively as his hero persona, and you were mostly right, but even now as he dined at a simple cafe, he still somehow radiated a cheerful and positive energy. The warm feeling you got from hearing him on the radio was dwarfed by what you currently feel now that you are seeing him in person. He had eaten the last of the flaky bread before speaking again. “You know, now that you’re right here in the flesh, I gotta ask you something that’s been bothering me since my last show.” Lime green eyes peered into yours as he idly stirred the cup of chocolate. “Were you alright that night? You sounded…conflicted when we were talking.” A lump caught in your throat. You didn’t expect something like that to stick with him. Surely he had more important matters to worry about. “Don’t worry about it,” you answered. “I just had silly things crossing my mind at the moment.” Hizashi took a sip, his eyes not leaving you. “Alright, I don’t wanna pry. I know you’re a grown woman, but I do like helping people. It’s my favorite part of all three of my jobs.” His smile never faded since he walked in here and man, you weren’t used to him looking or sounding so soft. You sat there silently, fighting internally as you tried to decide whether or not to confess. The pro hero waited, drinking and showing no signs of impatience. Your hands gripped at your apron as you took a breath. “I wanted to be a hero.” The only sort of reaction you noticed were his raising eyebrows. “Ah,” he murmured. “Do you still want to be a hero?” A beat of silence. “…No.” Hizashi watched, probably waiting for you to say more, but you still didn’t know how much you wanted to share. “Does that bother you?” He asked. You nodded. “I’d like to hear why, listener.” Hearing the term you were so used to on his show lifted some of the pressure. Ironically, he was probably the best listener out of anyone that tuned in. You straightened your posture and swallowed. “Then I should probably start from the beginning.” And so you let it all spill. How you once had the same glorious dream as so many other children. You explained all of the time and effort you put into the tests and exams, but it was never enough, and your quirk always failed to impress spectators. You had family and friends that supported you for so long, had sacrificed so much to make this happen, but when you realized that your pursuit was leading you to homelessness, you accepted defeat. Hizashi paid close attention, only making a small comment here and there, but he waited for you to finish to say anything more. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get there,” he said sympathetically. “It’s fine.” You were looking down at your lap, unable to hold his gaze throughout most of the story. “I recovered pretty well. It’s nice here.” He hummed and leaned back in his seat. “That’s good! Not everyone can bounce back from that. Sounds like it’s still bothering you, though. Are you sure you don’t want to try again? I’m more than happy to help you out.” You shook your head at the generous offer. This man was too kind. “Thanks, but that’s alright. I’m happy where I am, it’s just that…” You paused as you tried to form the frustration you’ve felt for years into words. “I had put my whole life into this, gave up everything I had, and…and I don’t have anything to show for it, you know? Feels like the biggest waste.” “Yeah, maybe it was.” His blunt admittance surprised you. “But when you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, you stopped before you hit rock bottom. I know some students of mine who wouldn’t have that self-control.” He gave a soft snort at the thought. “Hell, when everyday is such a painful climb, you forget if there’s even anything waiting for you at the top. Maybe you would’ve reached the peak just to finally keel over.”  You nodded along with his feedback. It wasn’t anything new; you’ve comforted yourself with similar words, albeit with less metaphors. And yet, your pesky mind couldn’t accept such logic. “But people don’t like quitters.” Hizashi kept going, arms crossed and staring intensely at his empty plate. “Because quitting apparently means that you’re weak, not that you were smart enough to see that you’re just hurting yourself at a certain point. Man, you know how many people wouldn’t be stuck doing stuff that they hate if this mindset didn’t exist? I know a guy who finally won the heart of the heroine of his dreams, and I was like, ‘Awesome, dude!’” You watched with mild amusement as Hizashi’s volume was slowly rising along with his increasingly animated movements. “But surprise! Turns out that she makes for the world’s worst girlfriend! The poor guy is in his own little hell, but he’s wanted this gal for soooo long and he’s still soooo sure that they’re fated to be together. If I used my quirk to scream at the guy to break it off already, he’d still manage to ignore me!” A snicker nearby caught both of your attentions, turning to see the other staff members looking very entertained by his storytelling. Hizashi coughed out of awkwardness and shuffled in his seat. “You, uh, you get what I’m saying?” His voice returned to a calm tone. “Yeah, I get it,” You replied. “I never considered all of that. Sucks for your friend, but I understand the feeling. It must be frustrating to watch from the outside, too.” “Oh yeah, it is.” He sighed and rested his face in one of his hands. “I know they say that you can’t save people that don’t want to be saved, but it’s not gonna keep me from trying. Good to know that you climbed out of that hole yourself. Well, almost.” He finished off the now-lukewarm chocolate. “Your dream died, so handle it like any other death. Mourn and move on. Dwelling on it or thinking about everything you could have done differently is irrational.” You heard him mutter something under his breath, something about someone rubbing off on him too much. The gears turn in your head. Your eyes wonder to a small stain on the table as Hizashi’s advice breaks through your somber barrier. Mourn and move on.

“I’ll try,” You’re shocked by how dry your throat suddenly is. The sound of sweeping and chairs scraping across the floor makes you snap your head to the clock. It was past closing time! “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You didn’t even know if you were apologizing to Hizashi or your co-workers. “I lost track of time! Let me get that for you.” You took his trash before he could respond and quickly joined the others to clean up. “Sorry about that,” one of your friends said. “I guess we all got caught up in your cute little talk.” “Do you have to eavesdrop on every table in this place?” You asked with no real malice. Pretty much the whole staff has a fondness for gossip; perhaps it was just a side effect of working such a job. “Oh, you know me. Why do you even ask?” she laughed. You focused on cleaning the tables as Hizashi stood and straightened out his clothes. You hoped that he wouldn’t leave just yet. His pep talk was appreciated and you wanted to thank him properly before your bus got here. Your bus that was scheduled to arrive ten minutes ago. 'Oh shit!' “My bus! I have to—dammit! I gotta go!” You dashed into the back to gather your belongings and grab your bag. Hizashi and the others looked too stunned by your burst of speed as you exited the cafe and rushed to the bus stop, the biting cold having little effect on your adrenaline-filled body. 'Maybe the bus is late too. Maybe I can still make it.' Your sprint slowed down the moment you saw your ride home already speeding away. It was too late to catch up. You could only watch as the large vehicle drove out of sight, dropping onto the stop’s bench as you caught your breath. Wonderful. This is what you get for getting too comfortable with one of your customers, hero or not. “Hey!” Speak of the devil. You turned to the sight of Hizashi jogging around the corner and toward you. “Man, you move pretty fast.” He caught up to you and took in your tired and defeated form. “And by the looks of it, you still weren’t fast enough.” A loud groan escaped you. “It’s no big deal, really. Another one arrives in about thirty minutes.” “Ah, think you can wait that long in this cold?” A shiver ran through your body immediately after his question. Wow, it really was freezing tonight. You shrugged your shaking shoulders. “I’ll have to. It’s still better than walking.” “Or maybe I can take you home?” Your head snaps back to him. Did you hear that right? “You…you want to take me home?” You repeated. That radiant smile returns to his face and adds another wave of trembles to your body. “I help where I can, and I’m kinda the reason you missed it in the first place. It’s the least I can do for such a loyal listener.” You hesitate, your still-harsh breaths forming misty clouds. You trusted him, no doubt about that. No, what was making you hesitate were his tender expressions that were illuminated by the nearby streetlight, and his lax and inviting posture as he waited for your answer with his hands tucked in his coat, and the realization that Yamada Hizashi was pretty damn handsome.   Pure hot red was rushing up to your face. Surely that was the cold’s fault. “That sounds great,” you uttered before you could even stop yourself. “Alright! Come on, then. I’m totally not dressed to be standing out here for long.” You followed him back to the cafe where an old-fashioned Ford mustang was parked. ‘Classy.'  Your co-workers were watching you enter his car, some with smirks or giving you a thumbs-up. ‘Perverts. It’s not like that.’ At least, you didn’t think it was. The drive home was calming. The radio played lowly as background music while you gave him directions to your apartment. You kept sneaking a peek at him from the corner of your vision, a peaceful look on his face as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He seemed to be the type that hated complete silence; you didn’t mind. The streets were fairly empty, so it didn’t take too long to reach your complex. Hizashi pulled up and parked. “Welp, here’s your stop!” He announced as he hit you with another knockout smile. “Thanks for taking the Present Mic Express, listener.” You removed your seat belt, but made no further movements. “Thank you, Hizashi. For the ride…and the talk. You’ve helped me a lot today.” You say as you dare to look into his hypnotizing irises. He shrugged at your gratitude. “I’m just a customer who was in need of a nighttime snack and met a special gal that turned out to be even greater in person.” It took everything in your power not to cover your face like a flustered schoolgirl, instead breaking eye contact as you felt the heat return to your cheeks. “Thanks, you’re pretty great too.” You shuffled a bit as you both sat in silence. “I’m leaving now.”

“Okay.” You stayed where you were, staring at the door handle like it was the last thing you might ever touch. “I can’t wait to talk to you again on your show.” “Ditto.” “Alright…I’m leaving now.” “You already said that.” You squirmed some more. ‘Come on, you probably just look creepy at this point. Hurry the hell up and say something.’ “Is there something else you wanna tell me?” There was a small hint of amusement in his voice, and you gathered the courage to look at him again, shocked to see that his friendly smile had shifted into something a little more smug. It was probably safe to say that he’s reading the atmosphere pretty well. ‘Then just go for it.’

“Do you…do you want to come inside me—” FUCK. “Come inside with me! Do you want to come inside with me?!”  You were practically shouting the invitation in a feeble attempt to hide your slip-up. Hizashi threw his head back and cackled. “I’d love to, sweetheart! No need to be shy about it. I don’t bite.” You still sat there as the car turned off, his casual acceptance putting you into a stupor. Which version of the question was he even saying yes to? Whichever one it was, he had just accepted your offer to sleep together. You hadn’t been with anyone in years, and now you suddenly do this? A rush of cold wind hit you when he opened his door. “Come on, unless you planned on doing it in the car?” He laughed when you furiously shook your head.  “Good. As much as I love my old girl, she’s probably not very comfortable for something like that.” You only shivered in response as you finally stepped out of his car and joined his side to guide him to your place. All it took was an elevator and a quick walk down the hall to reach your door. It was a little embarrassing to bring a pro hero into your small single-bedroom apartment. It had all of the essentials for a comfortable living, but there wasn’t much room for luxuries. You both kicked off your shoes at the entrance before you hurried to organize some stray clothes and bags. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests.” “No worries,” Hizashi didn’t seem to mind as he got comfortable on a chair near your kitchen area and scanned the place. “This is nice.” You snorted at the comment. “I suppose,” you murmured. “It’s nothing worth praising.” “What, finding a place to stay after running yourself down for years? I think that deserves some praise,” he says so matter-of-factually.  That was a really admirable way to put it. “Thank you.” “Mmhmm,” he hummed, watching you finish replacing your things. Now you’re just standing here, not sure what to do next. How do you even start this? Your only experience was a clumsy one with a friend way back. “Well, we can’t do much at this distance, can we?” He says lightly as he gestures you to come closer. You comply and take his offered hand, letting him gently tug you down and onto his lap. He positioned you sideways, your legs laid out over his and making you look and feel like a nervous child. His face was so close, those green eyes looking shinier than ever. “You’ve done this before, right?” His warm breath brushes against your face as he speaks. “Yeah, I have,” you paused and wondered if you should tell him more. Hizashi was getting to know you more than you ever intended. “With a friend some years ago…it was a mess. Two virgins that had no idea what they were doing.” You laughed at the memory. “Heh, I feel you on that one. My first wasn’t the most dignified moment either.” You felt his body shake with his chuckle. His hand was still holding yours, thumb pressing against the space between your knuckles in a sort of massage. The feeling soothed you as his free hand came up to remove his glasses, your body shifting with his as he set them down close by. “In fact, your boy used to be a one pump wonder!” He smiled at your bewildered reaction to the information. “Hey, it’s not my fault sex feels so awesome!” You giggled into his shoulder. He spoke to you with such familiarity that it was impossible to stay anxious. It was why you enjoyed talking to him on the radio, but you never imagined it being the same during a scenario as intimate as this. “Hey, Don’t laugh at me! I’ve gotten better!” He said in mock anger. “And lucky for you, you get to see just how much. Welcome to my private show, listener.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was more comical than seductive. A hand gently held the back of your head, and you let it pull you in to press your lips against his. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling, his lips softer than expected. Your kisses were timid, giving little more than lingering pecks, and Hizashi patiently returned them, slowly adding more pressure and passion as encouragement. The feel of a tongue swiping against your lips made you squeak in shock, getting a chuckle out of him. “That was adorable,” he teased, his voice suddenly at a lower pitch that made you shudder. “You startled me,” you retorted before returning to the kiss, this time with your lips parted to grant him entry. He caught you off guard again by sucking lightly at your lips instead, forcing a gasp out of you before slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your own muscle shyly met his, stroking each other in a lazy dance. His hands moved to hold your face and he’s doing it so tenderly. A hot desire is flowing through your veins from his kisses alone; you can only imagine what else he has in store for you. After a few more wet smacks, the two of you finally parted to catch your breaths, you especially. “Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. Hizashi gave a breathless laugh. “Getting overwhelmed already? We haven’t even taken any clothes off yet.” He wasn’t as composed as he let on, a red flush spreading across his face. The hands holding your face moved down to wrap around your waist as he moved his kisses down to your jaw. You sighed and tilted your head back to give him access to your neck, burying your fingers in his hair as you felt him lick and suck at your pulse. Beneath the smooth locks you felt a pin that held his sloppy bun together. “Hizashi? Can I-ah,” a hard suck on your sensitive throat forces you to pause. “Can I…your hair?” You tapped at the pin to get your point across. “Go ahead,” he groaned against your neck, not even slowing his assault as you pulled the small clip out and watched his golden locks fall to his shoulders. He purred to the feeling of you combing through his hair like fine threads. “It’s really pretty,” you whispered, still shivering from the love that he was showering on your skin. He pulls away from your neck. “Are you saying my hair isn’t always pretty? Trying to hurt Mic’s feelings?” He said with a pout. He looked all the hotter with his long hair draping the sides of his face. “Not at all! I think Mic makes for a handsome cockatoo,” you jest with a smirk. “Heh, you got jokes, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing once I get these annoying clothes out of the way.” He double tapped your thigh. “Up.” You stood up and watched him follow instantly, noticing the bulge that was beginning to grow beneath his pants. You quickly tore your eyes away from it. “Hold on a minute, I know what we’re missing.” He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his phone. You waited, wondering what he could possibly need on his phone right now. A few taps later, a smooth melody began playing from the device. “Oh yeah, I’m feelin’ it already.” He set the phone down and shut his eyes, getting a feel for the beat of the sensual R&B song. This man was unreal. “You have…a lovemaking playlist?” You uttered while watching him get into a groove. “I’ve got a playlist for a lot of things, baby. Nothing sets the mood like a good tune. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll go first.” And so he began his slow movements, swaying and bouncing in rhythm to the music, pulling his coat back and shrugging it off in a steady and seductive manner, tossing it aside. Watching a personal strip show of one of your favorite heroes was both hilarious and hot. On one hand, he was giving you playful and goofy faces while lip-singing to the sensual vocals. On the other, ‘I’ll be damned,’ you thought, because he really did know how to move his body and was successfully captivating you. His hips were moving in slow circles as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and revealing his impressively lean torso. ‘Oh, his hero outfit doesn’t do his body justice.’ You were so impressed by the chest and the abs that were just thick enough to be visible, you didn’t notice him struggling to pull the shirt off of his head. With his top completely bare, he smoothed a hand down his hair and leered at you with a slow lick over his lip. “Liking what you see, baby?” How the hell did his voice get so deep? Why was he being so sexy right now? Your throat was dry all of a sudden, so you simply nodded. “Good.” His hands ran over his chest, making sure you were watching them before they began an agonizingly slow descent, tracing over hard lines, his muscles rippling with the mesmerizing thrust of his hips, a sight so erotic that you wanted to look away, but just couldn’t. With the buttons and zipper quickly undone, his thumbs hooked beneath his pants and began to pull down and oh shit he was pulling at his boxers too. You were really about to see it and you didn’t know if you were ready, but your eyes remained glued to his waist as his masculine v-line and a neat trail of blonde curls was revealed, your breathing getting heavier with the knowledge that he was only centimeters away from revealing his… “Naaaah, I’ll leave these on for now.” Just like that, his voice returned to his loud and cheerful pitch, pants readjusted and no longer on the brink of revealing his manhood. Confused, you look back up to see an infuriatingly innocent face staring back at you. A pang of disappointment hits you hard; Hizashi had just teased you big time. “Your turn.” You stood there awkwardly, having no idea where to even start. “I…uh…” You try to get into rhythm with the song and already feel like a fool. “I’m not much of a dancer. Can I just undress?” You felt a little bad. You didn’t want to kill the mood just because you didn’t know how to be as light and silly as him. Hizashi casually approached in all of his topless glory. “Don’t stress, girl. The stage and spotlight ain’t for everyone,” he empathized. Slender fingers took hold of the bottom of your shirt, and he looked into your eyes for silent permission. You gave a slow nod of approval and lifted your arms so that he could smoothly remove your first article of clothing. He discarded the shirt quickly to lay his hands on your bare waist, tracing over your soft and sensitive skin, making you jump slightly. “That tickles,” you snickered. “Sorry, sorry.” His hands went higher until they reached your bra, fumbling with the clasp at your back. “Mind helping me out? I still haven’t mastered these contraptions,” he asked through gritted teeth. The fully concentrated face for removing an undergarment was a real hoot, but you showed mercy and joined his hands to undo the fastening and pulled the straps down your arms. With how hard he was staring at your exposed breasts, it took everything in your power not to cover yourself, keeping your arms at your sides. “Damn. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He spoke softly, giving feather-light touches over the mounds of flesh. “Can’t believe you’re giving me the honor of seeing you like this.” You warmed over at the praise and his touch, a thumb brushing lightly over your nipple. “You…look really good too,” you complimented back, your own hands coming up as you considered exploring his body. Hizashi noticed your hesitation and took a hold of your wrists. “You can check me out with more than your eyes, babe,” he says with a wink, and then places your hands right onto his hot and hard chest. ‘Woah.’ You swear that your heart stopped for several seconds. Hands slightly trembling, you run them slowly over his firm pecs, listening to his quickening breaths as you went lower to feel his abs. Present Mic was never really on your list of sexy heroes. You never bothered to imagined what the rowdy guy looked like underneath that superstar getup. ‘Shame on me, I suppose.’ The hero quietly reveled in your touch as he returned to your breasts, kneading them gently to bring out soft moans from you. There was something extra close and affectionate about just feeling each other, hands caressing and pressing every inch of both of your bodies. Your first time wasn’t this slow and steady; you and your partner were too embarrassed by so much clumsy fumbling that you ended up rushing to the main act. An arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer, a pair of lips speaking right next to your ear. “To the bed.” The song currently playing had a much more raunchy vibe to it, matching the growing intensity of the room as Hizashi gently pushed you back onto the mattress so that he could peer down and take in your body from above. You felt even more vulnerable in this position, but the man’s gaze, although lustful, was still gentle and nothing to be afraid of. You had enough courage to take his face and bring him down for another kiss, lips moving more boldly this time. Hizashi smiled behind the kiss, but had other plans and trailed downward, picking up where he left off during the first make-out. He licked a wet trail across your neck, wasting no time in reaching your breasts and peppering one with kisses, the slightly ticklish sensation filling you with pleasurable tingles. Too modest to watch him shower your body with love, you instead closed your eyes and focused on the feeling as the naughty music played on. The wetness of a tongue was flicking across your nipple, making your breath hitch, but it was the complete engulfment of wet heat that made your eyes fly open to the sight of him hungrily sucking at you like he was being nursed. You could still feel his tongue swirling around your nipple in the wet cavern of his mouth. It felt so good, bringing forth an ache within your lower body. “Ah, Hizashi…more…” Your plea came out as a shuddering moan. “Patience, babe,” he panted before switching to your other breast and giving it the same delicious treatment. Soon he continued his trek downwards, kissing at your stomach and playfully dipping his tongue into your navel. “Alright, time for these pants to go.” You lifted your hips to help him pull them off, nervous but so desperate to feel him touch you more. Surprisingly, he left your panties on and placed his lips right on your hipbone, making you twitch. The kisses wandered to your thighs, taking his time in enjoying the texture of your flesh as he licked, sucked, and gave the occasional nip to make you jump. You can feel the hot desire in your core building up as he got closer to your mound, your insides throbbing in anticipation, ready to be probed and explored already. Finally his face was right at your clothed pussy, a sinful grin forming as he observed the very damp spot. You were ready for him to finally remove the last barrier that prevented your bodies from joining. What you weren’t ready for was the shock of his tongue pressing against the thin cotton and licking at you like it wasn’t even there. Even with the shaky gasp that escaped you, you felt mortified. “H-Hizashi? What are—that’s—ohhh.” His lips managed to close right around your protected clit, the feeling muted but still powerful, but this was all so new to you. It’s one thing to fantasize having someone put their mouth there, but to actually…! Hizashi halted his ministrations and looked up at you. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” The panic in your breathless voice probably worried him a bit. You didn’t want him to think that he screwed up, it’s just that…ugh, you didn’t even know! “I, uh, you don’t have to do that, really,” you stammered. The pure confusion on his face was unexpected. “What? Go down on you? I love doin’ that, babe. You don’t?”

You were tempted to grab a pillow and hide your face. “I…don’t know. No one’s ever done that to me.” “Oh?”  He tilted his head, resting on one of your thighs as he watched you curiously. “Well this guy would love to do it to you. May I?” ‘Yes. Yes, please do it.’ You just couldn’t be as shameless as your inner thoughts, so the most you could do was squeak, “If you want.” Hizashi rubbed soothing circles around your inner thighs. “I’ll just give you a sample, alright? You just lie back and feel it. Actually…” He raised himself and took a hold of your hips, tugging you to the edge of the bed. He was now kneeling on the floor with your legs hanging over his shoulders. Even with your panties still on, you never felt more exposed. His mouth was back on you in an instant, licking long stripes up your covered womanhood. You could feel your heated lust, could feel your juices seeping out to mix with the saliva that was coating your ravaged underwear. But it didn’t look like Hizashi planned on letting up on his assault anytime soon, pressing his face against you as if he was craving your nectar from the source, but insisted on holding himself back. As you whimpered from the wet grazes and your growing arousal, you realized that this just wasn’t going to be enough. “Please,” you whined. “I need more.” “More?” The hero’s voice was husky, and the wicked look he was giving you wasn’t helping matters at all. “What do you want more of?” Your knuckles were turning white from how hard you were clutching the sheets beneath you. “You! Your mouth! Please, take them off!” “You like what my mouth does, baby?” He gave you a quick lick. “Yes.” “You wanna feel more of it?” “Yes, please!” You begged. “Wanna feel my tongue push inside your pussy?” The sudden vulgarity of his words made you clench. “Y-yes.” A finger runs up and down your slit, the cloth’s texture doing nothing but irritating you at this point. “Good, because your taste and smell is driving me wild.” His fingers hooked around the lace and, thank the gods above, finally pulled them off, sticky strands of your arousal being pulled along with it. Repositioning himself, he used his thumbs to spread you open and take a good look at you. ‘Oh God, that’s a bit much.’  You shut your eyes to avoid his invasive ones that were looking straight inside of you. Just before he dove in, a new track began to play. “Oooooh shit, I love this song!” You looked to see Hizashi on the verge of jumping up in excitement. After being so turned on, you managed to forget that he’s a dork. “They’re just asking me to go all-out on you, aren’t they? Get ready, sweetheart. I’m about to send you to heaven.” Your breathing quickened as he leaned in, suddenly understanding that his teasing was just to make you extra sensitive to the real deal, because his breath alone was sending pleasant shocks through you. The first long lick up your sex already had you moaning loudly. A pair of hands held your hips down to prevent you from bucking too wildly, thighs quivering on his shoulders as he hungrily lapped at you. Among the indecent sounds between your legs, you also noticed the song’s lyrics were describing the very act Hizashi was performing right now, his mouth working more vigorously whenever the singer expressed the desire to lick a girl, to make her cum all week. He was avoiding your clit, giving full attention to your sopping folds, sucking on them loudly before deciding to plunge his tongue straight inside of your pussy. The intruding muscle had you squirming against his hold, rubbing against your walls and pushing into you as far as possible. You noticed that Hizashi’s eyes were closed in bliss, giving soft moans as if this was bringing him just as much pleasure. Whatever the case, the sight of him enjoying himself so much was something you’ll be seeing in your erotic dreams for weeks, maybe months to come. You lost control of the sounds leaving your body as the pleasing heat grew, tongue thrusting in and out of your body, his nose pressing against your neglected clit. The thorough tongue-fucking was bringing you so close to the edge. Hizashi released a long and deep moan and…you don’t even understand what happened next. The sound sent the mother of all vibrations bouncing throughout your insides, forcing you into a violent convulsion of an orgasm. You didn’t hear your own scream, the music, or see Hizashi’s amazed expression when you tightened your legs around his head in a vice-like grip. Everything was suddenly muted save for the tremors wracking your entire being without mercy, pleasure pouring over you so strongly that it was frightening. Your surroundings slowly took shape again as you came down from your high, panting and waiting for your limbs to become responsive again. A hand brushed stray hairs away from your face, and you saw a very pleased hero laying beside you. “You alright, baby? You know where you are?” He asked jokingly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “Shut up.” You swung your weak arm and smacked him in the chest. “What the hell did you do to me?” “Sometimes I use my quirk to add a little kick,” he explained while rolling onto his side, giving your damp face a quick peck. “All it takes is a bass boost to soak the dancefloor, am I right? Though maybe that was too much. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or scared with the way you were spazzing out. Hope your neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered.” You shrunk into yourself. “Oh. Sorry,” you mumbled. You watched his hand casually explore your sensitive skin, catching a glimpse of the bulge in his pants that was more prominent than ever. “Your…” You gestured to his groin. He looked down at his stiff predicament and huffed. “Ah, yeah. It’s kinda been killin’ me. You good to keep going, babe?” How could you possibly say no after the ride he’s given you? “Yes, of course.” You moved to get up, but he gently pushes down on you. “Stay right here. I just need a minute.” The bed shifts with the loss of his weight and you watch him grab his discarded coat, fishing for something in its pockets and mumbling about something that he always keeps around, until you hear a little “a-ha” as he triumphantly holds up a condom. “Safety first~,” he says in a sing-song voice. Wow, he’s a prepared guy. Disobeying his orders, you raised yourself to sit upright. “Can I do the honors?” You asked. Honestly, you were just curious to see what he had in store for you down there. Hizashi looked surprised but pleased. “Be my guest!” he said excitedly, removing the wrapper while approaching you. The tent in his pants just sat there in front of you, begging to finally be released. “So, do you want me to finish my little show, or do you want to be the one to take’em off?” He watched your face intently as he thumbed at the band of his pants. You gulped loudly. He clearly wanted this night to be all about you, but he deserved some attention. “I’ll do it.” You whispered, taking a delicate hold of his pants to pull them down and revealing an intricately designed pair of boxers. Colorful urban-style shapes and characters covered the underwear, art that you would expect to see on the city’s walls. Any other time, you would take a moment to appreciate the impressive work, but you had a horny man to take care of. With a shaky tug, his final clothing was removed and the freed erection sprang out and smacked you in the face. The horrified ‘eep!’ and the utterly offended look you were giving his cock had Hizashi cracking up. “Shit, I’m sorry, babe!” He choked between breaths. “I guess I should have given you a heads up!” You were too embarrassed to even respond or look him in the eye. “Hey now, I promise he won’t hurt you again.” He gave you a pat on a head like a grumpy child and held out the condom to you. You silently took it and observed his manhood with a cautious look, as if it would somehow lash out and strike you again. He was pretty long; while his girth didn’t look too intimidating, you doubt that he can fit all of his length into you. It twitched when your fingers wrapped around it, rubbing up and down the soft yet firm organ and earning some sharp breaths from Hizashi. You finally attempted working with the music, stroking to match the same slow tempo. You took the lubricated protection and placed it over his swollen head, your other hand keeping up your rhythmic pumping as you pulled it down, stroking every uncovered inch until he was fully sheathed. “Fuck, girl. That was sexy,” Hizashi had watched your performance with lustful wonder. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit.” The praise excited you in more ways than one. His hands were on your shoulders and pushing you back down with him climbing on top, returning you both to your earlier positions. One hand reached between your legs and slipped a finger between your folds, dipping inside to sample your wetness. “Are you ready for me, baby?” His voice returned to that low raspy tone that had you throbbing for him all over again. Your nodding was so frantic that you made him laugh at your eagerness—your want has overpowered your doubts. He takes hold of himself and places the tip right at your entrance, your heart racing in anticipation to be filled. A sudden kiss distracts you. It was the deepest kiss he’s given you, lips practically holding yours prisoner while his tongue curled around yours. Breathy moans left both of your mouths. You were being effectively distracted until you felt the sharp burn of being stretched, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck while he pushed inside as slowly as he could. He drank up your whimpers and you consumed his growls of restraint. Every inch felt like it went on forever, hot and pulsing and overwhelming, yet your greedy pussy clamped down and sucked him in until you were completely filled. Hizashi stayed there, finally detaching his lips so that he could study your face. Those green eyes that enchanted you at the cafe for their warmth and kindness were now glazed over with something raw and insatiable. Such a look made you tighten around him, savoring the groan he gave in response. Your legs wrapped around his waist as the signal to start moving, and he complied with a slow and shallow pace. The friction was already creating another burning knot in your core. The other time someone was inside you like this…there was pleasure then as well, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to a partner who knew how to properly prepare your body and keep your mind at ease. Hizashi’s hair was draped all around you, creating a romantic enclosure of just him and you, everything else in the room feeling so far away. His thrusts were getting stronger, your heat and tightness making it too difficult for him to keep things slow. You didn’t protest and took every electrifying stroke with a helpless cry. Even with all of the sounds you were making, you dare say that the man above you was being even louder. “Ah…fuck…oh, baby you feel so fucking good. Oh yeah, fucking squeeze me just like that,” his language also became a lot more colorful, apparently. Concerning volume aside, his words only added to your pleasure. Your heels dug into him, pushing him deeper inside and brushing against that spongy bundle of nerves that had you writhing. “Shit, thanks sweetheart. Been lookin’ for that spot.” He pants with a mischievous smile across his sweaty face. With a particularly hard slam that makes you see white, he slows down and starts a deep grind. “Ah! Hizashi!” You weren’t prepared for such powerful stimulation, his dick hitting your sweet spot while his pelvis rolls against your clit. He elevates himself for a better angle, forcing you to disentangle from his neck and instead fumble desperately at his arms. The hot tension was tightening at an alarming rate with the pleasure he was giving to both of your most sensitive spots. Your gaze constantly switched between Hizashi biting his lip in a sexy focused expression to his contracting muscles as his hips press and rub against every inch of your cunt. Your nerves could only handle the sensual onslaught for so long—it didn’t take long before they were all set ablaze and reduced you into a trembling mess with your back arched and mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Sure, it wasn’t a heart-stopping climax like the one he gave you with his mouth, but the simultaneous spasms of your clit and innermost walls was its own amazing experience that had you melting into a blissful puddle. “Mmm, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” Hizashi groaned in approval. Your orgasm was still rippling through you when he buried his face into the crook of your neck and returned to his rutting, now at a much faster pace. Tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation. Your own choked sobs were smothered by the most intense moans you’ve ever heard sounding right in your ear. “You’re so amazing, baby…so damn beautiful.” How the fuck did he sound so sweet even when he’s on the verge of nutting? This hero has given you more than he even realized. He’s given you his company and joy every Friday, he’s given you kind words at your job, and now here he was giving all of himself to you. The emotions, the hypersensitivity, the closeness, it was all too much for you.

You came a third time, the sensation toeing the line between pain and pleasure as you clung to him tightly. He gave several more thrusts before reaching his own peak with a howl that might encourage a file complaint or two. You just held him, feeling every shiver run down his limbs and every shaky breath expelled from his powerful lungs. Both of you rested in each other’s embrace. If only things could just stay this way; Hizashi never failed to make you feel so good, in more ways than you even dreamed of. “Woah woah, you alright?” Said man’s panicked voice startled you. Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt the moisture running down your cheeks. When did you start crying? “What’s the matter?” He tried again, his troubled eyes breaking your heart. ‘It’s nothing,’  that’s what you wanted to say, but your throat felt constricted as more tears fell. Hizashi didn’t need to hear you—he simply pulled you up into a proper hug, saying nothing as you cried in confused frustration. The music had stopped at some point during the sex, the only sound present now was your soft weeping. You let the soft rubs along your back soothe you, his other hand cradling your head. The tenderness of it all just made you want to cry more, but you held back and calmed yourself down and spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” “Nothin’ to be sorry about, listener,” he returned to using that term, making this feel like another one of your friendly night talks. “It gets pretty intense sometimes.” He pulled you into a kiss, this one much lazier than the others. This was it. The kissing. It was too sweet, too sincere, the warmth of it blossomed something inside your chest that felt too earnest to be simple lust. Was he aware of what he was doing to you? Were you just overthinking this? Weren’t one-night stands supposed to have boundaries? Hizashi pulled out of you, leaving behind a sad emptiness that wanted him back immediately. He rose to his feet and headed to your bathroom, most likely to dispose of the condom. You heard his voice sound out of the room. “I’ve got little angels and devils to teach tomorrow, so I probably shouldn’t stay for long.”

Your heart felt like lead. “Okay,” you muttered. There really was nothing more to this. He was putting his boxers back on when he continued. “But…if it’s not too much to ask, maybe I can come by again?” What? Was he messing with you? “You’re serious?” You didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but your emotions were such a mess right now and you won’t appreciate having them toyed with. His pants were pulled up next. “One hundred percent serious!” He exclaimed with, dammit, that smile that lit up your entire being. “Maybe I’ll visit the cafe some more too. You were right about that croissant!” He returned to your side on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What I’m saying is, I think I like my favorite lady listener more than I thought.” Your heart was freed from its petrified state and swelled. Your arms swung around him before you could even stop yourself. “Hizashi…that’s so great but…you’re such a busy pro hero…I’m just a…how will this work?” You were rambling into his chest. “Easy girl, it’s nothing complicated. I’ll visit you whenever I have the time, alright? Ready to give you some support and…attention.” There’s that silly eyebrow wiggle again, making you laugh. You just kept on cuddling him, enjoying his presence for as long as you could tonight. A few minutes passed when you felt him shrug and break the silence. “Ah, what the hell.” He took hold of you and fell back onto the mattress with you now laying against him. “I guess I can stay for the night. I’ll just have to deal with waking up extra early tomorrow.” You snuggled into him and smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered. It’s unclear what kind of relationship you just formed with Hizashi; maybe this was only something temporary. All you knew is that you had him by your side, and you were going to cherish every minute of it and waste nothing. You’ll never waste a second of your life again.

[jackfrostsander]

I was tagged several days go (by @pamouche and @sandersdocs). Sorry that it took me this long... But here are my answers. It was a real struggle to make choices and so, sometimes I cheated by giving two answers… haha   

 fav wtfock s3 things

Their infinite love for each other is definitely the most beautiful thing about S03. It's so pure. The fact that at the start of the season Sander says, when he's putting out the glass with Robbe, that he's afraid that he will never find someone. At least not someone who loves him. And then at the end of the season he realizes he has finally found that. Someone who completely loves him. Someone who is not scared away by his MI and who also (unlike Britt) does not see his MI in everything he says or does. 

I also cannot believe how perfect the acting of the two Willem's was throughout the season! Their chemistry feel so real. It's a testament of the absolute mind-blowing talent that these two young actors have. I am sure we're going to see a lot more from them in the future!

Also the attention for detail was amazing. The perfect choice of music (e.g. as I write below when Wandering Romance is playing during Friday 21:21 and they film Sander when the song goes “No one knows the pain”. Then the camera switches to Robbe as the song continues: “No one sees what I see in you”. To give just one example of the well thought out choices that the production team made.

Can I mention the real life mural here! OMG, such a masterpiece in the centre of Antwerp. This brings us to the amazing aesthetic of Sander. And his bleached hair! His bleached hair! He looked like a Greek God! Apollo has descended from mount Olympus!  

 fav clip

Friday 21:21 but as I am already answering that to other questions below let me add Wednesday 16:36. No better cuddle clip than Wednesday 16:36. How they couldn’t stop touching each other. Here Robbe earned the nickname koala Robbe as he clang to Sander when Sander got up to check his phone… Also the moment where Sander says another iconic line: “I immediately knew, he’s the one”. Sander truly is the king of one-liners…  

 fav scene 

Monday 11:03 because up to that point Sander thought that his happiness with Robbe would end when Robbe sees his bipolar side. He even pushes Robbe away because he thinks he's toxic and Robbe deserves someone better than him. But then Robbe makes it clear to him how much Sander means to him and how Sander's illness is no obstruction in their relationship. Can you imagine the relief this must have brought to Sander???   

 fav shot

Again a hard choice... I like when Sander is playing with Robbe's angel necklace in Friday 22:21. Als the next clip Friday 22:52 is amazing as they are still in the same position in bed. Just in each other's arms, completely happy. 

 fav kiss that robbe initiates

Monday 11:03: "The next minute we are going to kiss", "That's chill" 

This kiss is the confirmation that Sander needed to understand that Robbe was completely honest when he told Sander that he wanted him. This kiss caused such emotion that Sander started to cry and collapsed. 

Second place would go to Tuesday 7:27 for the same reason. Nothing is more beautiful than when Robbe uses his kisses to comfort Sander. Because that's what true love means, being there for the other when they need you the most... And omg, seeing how Sander relaxed as soon as Robbe comforted him with "altijd" and his kiss... 

 fav kiss that sander initiates

Their first one in the swimming pool. It's such a magical moment. He finally had scrambled all the courage he needed to kiss the boy he was so utterly in love with... 

Second place would be for Tuesday 16:31. A small peck at first to test the water that ended in a full make out session that was interrupted by Britt calling him. This time it was Sander who comforted Robbe when he said: "We are the future". 

 fav sander dialogue

"Gij en ik... 100% voor altijd... In elk universum..."

Ok, maybe not much of a dialogue but those few words carry such meaning... And the fact that Sander said these words with such conviction! You could feel how he meant every word of what he said! 

 fav robbe dialogue

The minute by minute speech and "You've touched me and I never felt anything like it" in Monday 11:03. Yes, I keep coming back to Monday 11:03 because I love that scene so incredibly much!!!! 

 fav hug

Wednesday 17:21 

It's so cute how Robbe goes behind Sander and wraps his arms around him like a guardian angel and Sander then calls him an angel! 

 Fav 21:21

Friday 21:21 

Look how vulnerable Sander is when he opens up to Robbe. The way Robbe melted when Sander spoke his iconic words. And this also marks the moment when they fully chose each other and never looked back. 

And the funny parts like "Stomme schoenen!". Haha, such dorks. I love them!  

 Fav. Sobbe Instagram pic

The pic uploaded December 4th, 2019 on Sander's Insta. It's just the two of them acting silly (Sander sticks out his tongue). So, cute.  

And then the Bowie caption: 

"'Cause we're lovers

And that is a fact

Yes, we' re lovers

And that is that"

 fav scene x song pair

Friday 21:21 with Wandering Romance by Lie Ning! 

When during Friday 21:21 Sander's face is on screen the song goes: "No one knows the pain". Then the camera switches to Robbe as the song continues: "No one sees what I see in you". (*)

Is there a better song imaginable??? And then the fact that Lie Ning himself wrote on Instagram: "i wish i had Robbe and Sander when i was a teenager. this love that is not defined by gender or sexuality but purely by affection and heart is exactly what I was looking for back then. glad to be a part of this beautiful romance. everyone knows the pain. but few are brave enough to show it."

(*) Of course this must be a bit of a lie because someone as wonderful and sweet as Sander must have hordes of people who see how special he is... 

 fav message between Sander & Robbe

Hmmm, April 10th, 2020 is really nice. It starts with Sander saying that Robbe was hefty in his dreams that night... Definitely Robbe must have blushed so much reading that... Then he teased Robbe that his battery was empty and so that he couldn't record his lockdown walk movie. Such a Sander thing to do... Teasing his boyfriend... 

Then Robbe writes: "I want to be with you sooooo much. How focking cute you are". Then Sander writes: "I love you, Robin" to which Robbe answers: "I love you too. Abnormally much!"

How perfect is this??? Like the teasing, Robbe calling Sander cute, Sander saying Robin, and then Robbe saying he loves Sander abnormally much. 

 fav banter on Instagram 

Their discussion about their anniversary post. Robbe saying that this was ok for Sander to call him awake for but that Sander had to wait till tomorrow for Robbe's surprise. Saying "patience is a virtue". And then Robbe commenting on Sander's excessive use of emoji's. And Sander teasing Robbe by saying "Thus not like this" followed by 20 hearts... haha 

I am not sure who has all done this so far so I am tagging @lucidpantone, @bowieexaminprogress, @tsjernobyl, @mijnlief, @indimlights, @sanderxrobbee, @debussyatmidnight, and @hereforsobbe. Feel free to ignore! 

[sadselfhelp]

Who I Am, And Why I Created This Blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Violence, Drug Overdose, Suicide, Psychotic Breaks. 

Take a walk with me, let me show you around the mind of The Sad Hatter.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of something. I'm standing on a cliff's edge and I'm either going to plummet or I'm going to fly. It's been building inside me for a long time, and I can't contain it anymore. So here it is, here's me laid bare, because I need to say this, I need to put it into words. I need to purge it all. To try and make sense of all of this shit in my brain, I think it's time I organize it. I don't know where to begin, but I guess I start at the beginning and make use of the ability to edit.

Before you read this, please be aware of the trigger warnings. And please understand that this is the most honest and open I have been, I really am stripped bare in this piece of writing. It’s not at all pretty, and am I not guiltless in parts. This may well alter whatever opinion you have of me. 

I guess the beginning is birth, right? But I don't want to rehash all that trauma, so let me speed through it. Twenty-Eight years ago I was born, violently. I'm serious, I ripped my way out of the womb, and tore that thing apart. I guess I can sort of understand why my mother couldn't love me after that was my first act, collapsing her womb. So let me speedrun this part of the story. Mum didn't want me, gave me to my dad who raised me as a single parent with the help of his parents, until he met my stepmother. Shockingly, she didn't want me either, but because she couldn't get rid of me she decided to physical and psychological torture was the next best thing. 

When I was eleven years old I snapped and didn't want to put up with it anymore, so I wrote a goodbye note and then snuck into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of pills. Spoiler alert, I didn't die. I did however end up in a children's home, cue more abuse, little bit of bullying and sexual assault etc.... I snapped again, but instead of turning my anger inwards, I became an absolute bastard. Ok, I still turned it inwards a bit, I had a lot of anger, and now I have a few hundred scars to prove it. But, it turns out that violence can beget violence, and I acted out in every possible way. Racked up a horrifying rap sheet, assault, vandalism, arson, and finally... GBH. I was supposed to get put in a secure unit (child prison – Scottish Edition) but I was always able to talk myself out of trouble. 

See, I was this tiny little white girl with big sad eyes and a hell of a sob story, even at the bottom of the food chain I still had privilege. So instead of getting locked up, I just got sent to a different home. And here's the really messed up part, this home was better. The staff were nicer, and nobody hurt me. My behavior literally changed overnight. I went from being charged by the police on a weekly basis, to never getting so much as a pocket money sanction. I will never excuse my actions, nor condone them, but after years of guilt I finally realized that the bad things I did were in retaliation to a bad situation, and though I wasn’t acting like a good person, I’m not a bad person, just a messed up one. 

I still refused to go to school though, because though I didn't yet know it at the time, I had severe social anxiety. I was smart, a little too smart to be honest, and I found myself thriving with a private tutor. When the time came to sit my exams, someone fucked up, and despite having record breaking test scores on the pre-exams, I never actually got to sit my standard grades (think SAT's – Scottish Edition). I'm still bitter about that. So by this point in the story, I'm 16, and legally an adult, too old for a children's home. I got turfed to a hostel, and the next few parts of the story are pretty fuzzy to me. 

This is where my mental health really started to deteriorate. I bounced between homeless hostels and B&B's for a year or so, until I got a my first flat/apartment. By that point, I was utterly fucked in the head. I was blacking out frequently, for anywhere between a couple of minutes to three days. I would come back to myself in sometimes compromising positions, and once there was blood. A lot of blood, splashed all over the walls. Then there was the time I suddenly found myself standing in the kitchen, about to plunge a knife into my own chest.

Nobody ever did tell me what the hell that was about. Or maybe they did and I just... forgot? But because I was extremely suicidal, a doctor finally decided to do something, and the police and the paramedics came to my door to take me to the psychiatric hospital. I spent ten months there while I cycled through various anti-psychotics and anti-depressants, and was 'rehabilitated into society'. The second I was out, I made the worst decision I have ever made in my life. If I can give you one piece of advice, one lesson to take from my shitshow of a life, it's this: Don't move hundreds of miles away to be with the guy you met online while you were having a psychotic break.

I've never really thought of myself as a victim, but I guess I'm the only one who saw it that way. Ben, that was his name, Ben was a monster, and I didn't know it until it was too late. He never hit me, never lifted a hand to me, he never had to. He could put a knife in my hand and make me hurt myself for his entertainment. I had told him everything, so he knew exactly how to break me down, how to make me want to bleed. He locked me in a house and used me up. And when I had enough, and tried to break free of him, he would just tell the police I was mentally ill and they would smile sympathetically and give me back to him.

But then my dad had a breakdown. My dad, who when he found out what my stepmother was doing to me, buried his head in the sand and packed my little suitcase for me. I hadn't spoken to him in a while until he reached out from the same psychiatric ward I had not long vacated. He had cracked under the realization that I had never lied about her, and the guilt broke him apart. I could have hated him, if it had happened a few years earlier then I would have. But I had experienced enough of the world to learn a few things, like how easily it is to fuck up, and that no matter how strong you are, you aren't immune to monsters. The truth was he was as much a victim of her evil as I was. She had manipulated him, played with his head, used his insecurities against him. So I helped him through his issues, the way I wished someone had helped me. That doesn't really make me a good person, it just makes me human.

But my dad got better, and found his footing. And when he did, he realized something wasn't right with me, and I told him the truth about Ben. My dad had left me to suffer at the hands of an abuser once before, and he wasn't going to allow it to happen again. He came and got me, and he took me home. He moved me in with him, gave me his bed and slept on the couch. After a couple of months, he helped me get my own place.

And that's the happy ending, right? All the trauma was over, I was safe, that's where the story should end. Right? I bet you're not naive enough to believe that, but I sure as hell was. I thought I would recover and that everything would be ok. I thought that with safety, there would come the chance to heal. I thought my wounds would scab over, and I would have my scars but at least I would be able to move without bleeding out. But that's not how trauma works. I had two decades worth of trauma, abuse, and hell.

I just... faded. I didn't crack, I didn't crumble, I didn't break, I just stopped. For five years I sat in one room of my home, drowning inside myself. Last year I got handed a lifeline, and now I live somewhere better. I'm not really allowed to live independently so I actually live in kind of retirement village of all places. I have my own house, but it's got intercoms and emergency cords everywhere, I get checked on daily by on on-site worker. And I'm trying to get better, I really am. It's just not that easy.

There's more to the whole story that I maybe should have put in, like the fact that my mother was a drug addict when she was pregnant with me, and that may have been the reason some of my organs didn't properly form and/or formed wrong. My lung split in half when I was a baby, and parts of my stomach are missing. Or that my mother is full on batshit insane. I could have had a perfect childhood and I still would have been mentally ill. Hell, I was seeing psychologists at five years old. Take my sketchy genetics, add twenty years of severe traumas, and well... I'm a little fucked up. Because a lot of medical conditions use acronyms, my full list of diagnosis looks like I'm collecting the fucking alphabet.

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Agoraphobia. I also have a Pulmonary Sequestration, Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, the stomach and lung issues. Immune Hemolytic Anemia, I'm basically allergic to my own blood. Plus, ya know, my liver recently decided to just fucking nope out, the pissy lil bitch is failing. I also may or may not have cancer, I don't know because I pussied out of the tests. At this point I am a walking, decaying corpse that is held together by glitter glue and bitterness.

So... why exactly am I writing this? And why am I even considering posting this? I mean, my problems aren't as bad as some other people's. We've all got shit to deal with, especially in 2020. The whole world is falling apart, so what right do I have to sit here pouting and pouring my problems out? Well, for a start, I guess this is my blog, I can post whatever, and it's up to everyone else if they read it.

So here it is, you have the backstory, so here's what it's all been leading up to.

I'm struggling. Like, really struggling. I'm stuck on this cliff, and I want off, any way I can. Whether I fall or fly, I just want free. I can't live like this anymore, because I can't breathe.

The fucking agonizing duality of being socially anxious and too easily overstimulated, and yet feeling fucking empty inside if you're not surrounded by action and noise. The world is too noisy for my brain, but my brain is too noisy for the world. I get antsy if I'm not doing at least a thousand different tasks, but I get overwhelmed if I try to do anything at all. It leads to short bursts of mania, followed by weeks of depression. But underneath all of that, under all the dramatic showboating, and the dark humor, under all the bravado... I'm really just sad.

Years ago, when I first came up with the moniker "The Sad Hatter", I said it was because I may be mad, but my madness was born of sadness. I'm just sad. I carry it with me where my heart should be. So I named myself Sad, and I put on the hat, and I wore my sadness like armor, turned it into an act, and made a spectacle of it. "I'm The Sad Hatter, and I'm mentally ill but that's alright, I'm going to be just fine!" I told you all I had my issues, and I'll come close to opening up about how bad those issues are, I'll give little chunks of information at intermittent intervals, and then two hours later I'll act like it never happened. I'll admit I was close to killing myself, and then two days later I'll post dog photo's and act like I'm all better.

I'm writing this because I'm sad. And tomorrow, I'll act like I'm not. But when I waver again, I'll come back here and I'll open up again. And along the way, maybe you're reading this and realizing you aren't alone in feeling overwhelmed. Maybe you're realizing you're not the only one who isn't healing neatly and in a timely manner. Maybe you're reading this and gaining some insight into the struggles someone you care about is facing. Maybe my opening up is can help somebody else, I really hope so, but I know it's helping one person. It's helping me.

This blog, it's about living with myself. It's about living with The Sad Hatter.

[karajaynetoday]

forever and always | calum hood

I couldn’t find the original credit for this gif but possibly here? It’s a deactivated blog though if anyone has the proper credit please let me know!

I don’t know how or why, but I woke up this morning thinking about this concept and I had to get it written to make my peace with it, in a way. Shout out to @spicycal for reading through the draft for me, and sending love to anyone this resonates with. It’s a very emo Calum one-shot that includes pregnancy loss (if that’s not something you can read, feel free to give this one a miss), but I promise it has a happy ending. 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy loss/stillbirth, and references to COVID-19 (the pandemic circumstances i.e. quarantine, not actually having the illness)

(This is a fem reader insert)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Calum ducked his head down to meet your gaze, brown eyes swimming with concern.

You were sat together on the couch in Ashton’s living room, surrounded by a lighting set up, having a quiet moment while Andy and Ryan were setting up their cameras in front of you. 5SOS were preparing to release their next album, and to reflect on the past ten years’ of the band, they had decided to film a documentary alongside the album process. After much deliberation, KayKay, Sierra and Crystal had agreed to take part, because they were just as much a part of the band’s journey as the boys’ families were, and their support and influence on the music was obvious. For you, though, it was a little different. You and Calum had successfully hidden your relationship from the public eye for the last four years. It was some sort of miracle, honestly, especially given the last little while where you’d gotten careless and slipped up by holding hands and showing affection in public. If any fans or paps noticed, they never said anything, and it gave you and Calum a sense of relief that no one knew your name or true identity when you were spotted with him or the rest of the band family in public.

Relief, but you had to admit that it hurt a little too. You’d seen the hate and vitriol that the other guys’ partners had experienced, and you knew Calum was just trying to protect you from all of that, but every time someone made a joke about him being the only single one in interviews, or asked him what he looked for in a girl, or the fans ran away with relationship rumours whenever he was photographed within breathing distance of a potential love interest,  it made your chest feel tight. At the end of the day, though, Calum always came home to you, and that was what truly mattered.

To say that this was a big moment, publicly announcing your relationship with Calum, and revealing that you’d kept it hidden for years, was an understatement. But you knew it was important to both of you to finally share it with the world. Not just because you loved each other and wanted to show it, but because the events of the past year had broken and rebuilt you all over again. As individuals, as a couple, and even for the band as a whole. You knew that the hope you’d held, and the pain that tore you down, and the healing you’d been through came across in Calum’s contributions to the new album, so it felt right to sit down and use your own voice to convey your feelings about it all.

You broke out of your deep train of thought to nod in response to Calum’s question, and press a quick but reassuring kiss to his lips.

“I’m sure if you’re sure.” You whispered, as Calum threw his arm around your shoulders and squeezed to let you know he was in support of whatever you wanted to do.

“Okay guys, we’re ready if you’re all good to go?” Ryan spoke up from behind the camera, trying not to unsettle you two and the moment you were clearly having. A deep breath and a brief smile from you and Calum let Ryan know he could start recording, and Andy sat down out of frame and pulled his notebook of questions into his lap.

“So, shall we start from the beginning?”

Your heart swelled, as you began to remember.

--

Ashton had full on wingman-ed Calum when you first met them both at a bar downtown. He was dating KayKay at the time, so he’d made it his mission to find Cal a hot date, or a lover, or a lifelong companion (“Any of the above will do, as long as you’re not a shit person”, he’d told you as he tried to pitch Calum to you). The pitch had worked, and you’d joined them for a few drinks and rounds of pool, before exchanging numbers with Calum at the end of the night.

From there, it was coffee dates, and brunches, and then dinners and nights out on the town. Soon it became days or nights at each other’s houses, which became entire weekends, then it was trips away or secret visits to see Calum on tour, and before you knew it, you’d been dating for the better part of the last two years and Cal asked you to move in with him. He knew it was a sacrifice on your part, not only dating someone who was away for months at a time, let alone someone whose hand you couldn’t hold out in public for risk of being photographed, but you also knew that you and Calum loved each other more deeply than you’d ever loved before. You understood he’d be burned in the past with public or semi-public relationships, and seeing his band brothers go through them made him hesitant at best. By moving in together, you’d see each other more, and you’d also get to shower each other with the love and desire that was building more and more within your soul with every passing day.

--

“So that’s the story of how we met. Mate, honestly, I was head over heels from day one.” Calum laughed, kissing your forehead quickly.

“I’ve had the privilege of observing you two and your love for one another for a few years now, and I have to say it’s a beautiful thing. You just seem to know each other inside out, and I love that soulmate aspect of your relationship.” Andy mused, flashing you a warm smile.

“Now, in terms of influence on this upcoming album, I know the past 18 months have been a rollercoaster for us all, but you two especially have been through a lot. Do you feel comfortable talking us through that a little bit?” Andy was careful with his words, not wanting to upset you or make you uncomfortable.

You squeezed Calum’s knee, before swallowing thickly and thinking back to the time period Andy had mentioned.

--

When 2020 began, you held so much hope and excitement for the year ahead. Watching Calum and his brothers play the Firefight Australia concert was incredible, and you were so thrilled for them to be releasing their latest album that truly felt representative of the four individuals who had come together to craft it. But then the pandemic began, and you were ordered into quarantine. Each day felt heavier somehow, with more sad stories on the news, and more frustration building up amongst your loved ones. It broke your heart to see Calum and the boys not able to release the album in the way they’d originally hoped, but Cal himself was both an optimist and a realist, and constantly reiterated that it felt like the right time to release it anyway, because maybe it would bring a bit of joy and serenity to people that needed that in their lives amongst all the chaos.

You’d quickly fallen into the routine of home isolation, waking early to get your work hours done, so you could spend your afternoons with Calum and Duke by the pool, or hiking a nearby trail, or bingeing Netflix on the couch. It was strange to have so much time together, but it was also so warm and comforting that it didn’t take you long to get anxious at the idea of Calum ever leaving again for tour or promo. That was a while away, though, so you tried your best to make the most of the time you had, and take it one day at a time.

You couldn’t remember the first day you woke up feeling nauseous. Sometime in June, you supposed. A few days of vomiting and fatigue that made you feel like you’d been hit by a bus, and you had a telehealth appointment with your doctor to try and figure out what was going on. Given your symptoms, they’d asked you in for tests right away. A week or so later, you were back sitting in the doctor’s office awaiting the results, extra nervous because the COVID-19 restrictions meant that Calum couldn’t come in with you. You’d thought about FaceTiming him into the appointment, but there was something in the back of your mind telling you that you wanted to have a moment to yourself to process the news, whatever it was going to be.

When your doctor looked at you with a smile and told you that you were pregnant, all you could do was gape back at her in shock. It shouldn’t have come entirely as a surprise; you and Calum had spoken a few times about the vision you had for your future, and the uncertainty and restlessness that quarantine had given you made foregoing protection seem right, somehow (lovesick logic, or something like that). But it happening so quickly was unexpected. Your shock was soon replaced with tears of happiness, and you were already bursting at the seams to get home and tell Calum the news.

He was speechless at first, too, but then again Calum always was a man of few words. You’d kept it to yourselves for a little while, only discussing it in quiet whispers, or soft touches onto your non-existent bump, or sending links of cute baby things to one another via WhatsApp message. A few weeks later, you had your first scan, and this time Calum was allowed in the room. You could see his eyes light up when he heard the strong heartbeat on the monitor, and later he’d tell you how he immediately wanted to voicenote it on his phone to listen to while he was away on tour, or even mix it into a song.

Seeing that tiny blob on the screen and hearing the heartbeat honestly made your entire year, and from then on you couldn’t resist sharing your happiness with others. Video calls with yours and Calum’s parents, more happy tears and cheering from the soon-to-be first time grandparents.

The restrictions in California had eased a little, so you invited Ashton, Luke, Michael and their respective partners over for dinner one night. You’d prepared some cute greeting cards, one for each couple, thanking them for all of their support over the years with helping to protect your privacy with Calum, and slipped a copy of the baby scan with “see you in February” written on the back inside the card. Once everyone was settled onto the couches in the living room, waiting for dinner to be ready, you handed them out and sat down in Calum’s lap, taking a sip of your drink to try and hide the excitement on your face.

It was so amusing to observe the reactions that were representative of each couple. Michael and Crystal gasped and cheered, immediately pulling you and Calum into tight hugs. Ashton and KayKay were more reserved, but whispers of love and encouragement and happiness into your ears were so lovely and cherished. The tears in Sierra’s eyes, and the comfort of Luke’s squeeze of his arms around your waist said more than they could ever put into words.

The emotional celebrations soon turned into teasing jibes, and Ashton’s pitch for a new line of 5SOS baby merch. (“Come on guys, a baby-sized bucket hat? Tiny hoodies? Wildflower plush toys? A lullabies album? I’m telling you, there’s a whole WORLD of opportunity for us opening up right now!”), and you couldn’t help but feel both overjoyed and overwhelmed at how much this little baby was going to be surrounded with love and support for every day of their life.

The months carried on, and your once invisible baby bump grew and grew. You and Calum cleared out a spare room for the nursery, and got lost in furniture shopping and paint swatches and reading every parenting book you could get your hands on. There were doctors appointments, and birthing classes; lists of potential baby names on the fridge, and consulting your dog trainer on how best to introduce old man Duke to the idea of a new arrival.

As December approached, and you started getting into the festive spirit, Calum began returning to the studio as he and the guys toyed with some potential new directions for the next album. All of them had studios built into their homes, so they could meet and work together in relative safety, which was reassuring. You were standing over the kitchen sink one day, rinsing out the pan you’d used to make eggs for breakfast, when a searing pain in your abdomen had you groaning in discomfort and gripping onto the kitchen counter for dear life. The pain eased momentarily, and then came back stronger, and you managed to grab your phone from the counter and dial Calum’s number frantically as you gasped for breath.

The next few hours were a blur; Calum raced home to find you curled up in pain on the kitchen floor, Ashton and the paramedics were quick to follow him inside. They put you in an ambulance and took you straight to the hospital; you and Calum were gripping each other’s hand so tightly that your knuckles were white with stress.

The doctors determined you were in pre-term labour, and soon enough you were in a delivery room panting and pushing and crying out to Calum for comfort. It was all so terrifying and overwhelming but he was doing his best to ground you, brushing his fingers through your hair and holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. When you finally delivered the baby, a hush fell over the room, and you could tell from the look on the faces of your doctor and nurses that something wasn’t right. 

The silence continued, and your heart broke when you realised that the baby hadn’t started to cry like you’d expected. The nurses had moved the infant over to another station, suctioning their airway and connecting them up to all manner of tubes and wires, but after a few moments your doctor told you the news. It was a baby girl, but her heartbeat wasn’t there. She’d come into the world and gone out again, just like that.

--

“I know a lot of people struggle to talk about stillbirths, and losing children, and it’s such a deeply personal thing so I get it. But it’s also grief, and loss, and emotions that you feel whenever you lose anyone you love. If there’s one thing I wish we could do more, as people in general, it’s discuss how we feel, and normalise having emotions, because it brings you closer and makes you feel less alone.” You spoke softly, blinking away the tears that had started to well in your eyes.

Andy nodded gently at you, before a quiet “Cal?” with an encouraging flick of his head.

Calum cleared his throat and glanced over at you before speaking. 

“I think that’s a huge part of why we wanted to be here today and talk about not only our relationship but losing Matilda in particular. It’s a sensitive topic, I know, especially for men, but holding back and bottling up your emotions isn’t good for anyone. Without her support in getting me to open up, or having the boys to listen to me cry and help me get some of my feelings out, in words and on this album, I don’t think I’d be in as good a place as I am now. It’s dark to think about, but important not to ignore, I think.”

“You’re so right, Cal. And Matilda is always going to be a part of our story, and we’re never going to forget how much we loved her and how much closer together she brought us,” You began, pausing briefly to squeeze Calum’s hand that had settled on your swollen stomach, “And when our little rainbow baby arrives in the next few weeks, I can’t wait to tell them about their sister, and how much she would’ve loved to meet them, but now she’s watching over them instead.”

“Exactly. We’re always going to have had Matilda, and then this little one, and however many others we decide to try and bring into the world. But it’s the love that builds you and the loss that breaks you that makes us who we are. Forever and always.” Calum’s voice was emotional, but also firm and calm, as he looked down at you and kissed you intently, his hand never leaving its spot on your bump, where your little rainbow baby was kickly softly at the sound of his voice.

“Forever and always.” You agreed, inhaling deeply and feeling a sense of deep peace and content wash over you.

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @loveroflrh​ @spicycal​ @notinthesameguey​ @metalandboybands​ @cheekysos​   @ashton-trash

[imaginaryelle]

Would you do anything with Wei Ying and the 4 main Juniors like either a fic or just how they interact in the show compared to the older generations

(Many thanks to @miyuki4s for the awesome beta work!)

*

It’s a banquet. A banquet Wei Wuxian was not, technically, invited to, but which he is attending nevertheless because no one in charge figured out he wasn’t supposed to be there until he’d already been offered food.

Such kind servants the Yao Sect has. Such a contrast to their sour Sect Leader, who keeps staring into his wine as if it’s turned to vinegar on his lips.

Wei Wuxian decides not to test his welcome too long—yes, he had been rather useful on the night hunt this afternoon, and yes, his role in Jin Guangyao’s downfall and the known fact of the Chief Cultivator’s favor do buy him a certain amount of social standing with the major Sects, but he’s not going to sit in a man’s hall all night mocking him with his very presence.

Well, he might.

Okay, he definitely would, except the wine is merely decent and the conversation is stilted and, frankly, boring. It would be bearable if he was getting to watch Lan Wangji endure it as well, but alas, the Chief Cultivator has pressing business in Yunmeng, apparently, which must be quite pressing indeed for Jiang Cheng to ask for him and which Wei Wuxian is certain would only be made more difficult by his own presence, even if he does still worry about Jiang Cheng, somewhere in a not-so-secret corner of his heart. So instead of making small talk or setting off into the night he takes his wine and bows out of the hall to Sect Leader Yao’s disgruntled nod of acknowledgment and goes in search of better entertainment.

He finds it just around the side of the disciples’ dormitories, behind a stand of magnolia trees.

Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen and several other vaguely familiar young members of various clans are sitting in what looks to be a small garden, huddled around what is quite probably either illicitly procured food or, more probably, wine. There’s a flash of gold near the center, and Wei Wuxian is able to answer the slightly-nagging question of where his nephew disappeared to halfway through the feast. Fairy, thankfully, is nowhere in sight. He wonders, for just a moment, whether they purposefully left Lan Sizhui’s reasonable voice out of this clearly ill-advised venture before he catches sight of him half-hidden behind Lan Jingyi’s shoulder, a look of fond exasperation on his face.

Wei Wuxian takes a drink of his own wine and prepares to keep walking—there’s probably a rooftop somewhere with a good view of both the garden and the waning moon to keep him entertained without disturbing anyone else’s fun.

“Ah! Wei-qianbei!” It’s one of the ones Wei Wuxian doesn’t quite remember who greets him, which is a little embarrassing, but the boy’s wearing Yao sect robes and looks like he lost a fight with a thorn bush—ah. Young master Liang Fai, who got a little too up close and personal with a malevolent spirit this afternoon. He beckons Wei Wuxian closer, either ignoring or not noticing those of his companions who freeze in place—Lan Jingyi and two other Lans try valiantly to look as if they have not touched alcohol and Lan Sizhui offers up a slightly chagrined smile—or those who are making only mildly obvious efforts to stop him. Jin Ling looks for a moment as if he might bolt through a nearby bush. “Wei-qianbei, can you teach us that talisman you used today? The one that banished the mist.”

A few of the others actually do look interested in that, even Jin Ling, at least until Wei Wuxian shakes his head.

“You can achieve the same effect with a basic spirit-repelling talisman,” he informs them. Blood is stronger than ink, of course, but he remembers their eagerness in Yi City. Best not to mention that. “It’s nothing special.”

“What about your ward-breaker then?” Lan Jingyi asks. Wei Wuxian arches an eyebrow at him.

“Hanguang-jun did a lecture on it,” Lan Sizhui puts in, soft-spoken and reasonable as ever. “On your inventions, like spirit-attraction flags. He said you had a ward-breaker talisman.”

“I might,” Wei Wuxian allows, though it was never really a secret. “How good’s your brushwork?”

The next half hour is a delightful rush of fresh ink, waving paper and bright enthusiasm. Enthusiasm, of course, is key in the creation of this particular talisman. Enthusiasm, focus, and delicate control of a brush. A few of them can produce a handful of sparks in their first tries. Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui each manage one butterfly, to their evident glee and Wei Wuxian’s lavish praise. Ouyang Zizhen manages a quietly smug three, to general acclaim. They finish the wine, and someone steals more, and an hour goes by and the moon rises higher and then Jin Ling, a little flushed but entirely determined, asks:

“Can you tell us about the Sunshot Campaign?”

Everyone goes quiet. Wei Wuxian laughs, too loud in the long shadows. He is burningly aware that Lan Sizhui—Wen Yuan—is sitting somewhere on his left.

“Surely you’ve learned all about that already,” he says. His smile feels stretched too-thin across his face.

“Not really.” Jin Ling frowns. Wei Wuxian can’t decide if the expression makes him look more like Jin Zixuan or Jiang Cheng, but it’s familiar frustration either way. “Jiujiu won’t tell me anything and—” he stops, lips pressing tight together.

“There are a few stories,” Ouyang Zizhen says in a sort of hushed whisper that makes everyone lean in closer. “but it’s strange, they’re always—”

“It’s always the same stories,” Liang Fai says. “No matter who you ask. It’s always about how awful Wen Ruohan and his sons were, and then the Yin Iron, and the razing of Cloud Recesses and Lotus Pier. Then the Sects rise and Lian—and Meng Yao goes undercover, and Chifeng-zun lays siege to Nightless City.”

“My father always says the Wens reached too far,” Ouyang Zizhen adds. “That they were arrogant and thought they held the authority of the Heavens themselves. But when I ask what happened before the war, or why they attacked Cloud Recesses, he just talks in circles. Sometimes I’m not even sure he knows the answer at all.”

“There’s not much detail,” says Lan Jingyi. “Honestly, I’ve gotten more out of merchants and kids playing in the street than most cultivators. There are more stories about you, really. After. When you were at the Burial Mounds.”

Wei Wuxian sighs. Of course there are. Just as now, when there are so many stories of Jin Guangyao, once more Meng Yao to the vindictive and impressionable, and how people always knew he was up to something. Even at the time, when the events were fresh in everyone’s mind, no one had wanted to remember who the Wens were before the war. If they had, Wei Wuxian might not have been the only one standing by the survivors.

He finds Lan Sizhui’s eyes in the dim moonlight, but Lan Sizhui only stares back at him, as calm and composed as if he’s waiting for a lecture in Cloud Recesses. All the young faces around him are intent and watchful. Waiting. Waiting for him to prove, as he has so many times before, that he’s different from their parents. Because he is, just—maybe not as different as they think.

“It was a war,” he says. “There are better things to talk about. Like—oh, the clouds, the clouds are very nice tonight.”

The clouds are nice. For the record. Worthy of poetry even. But of course these are determined young cultivators. They aren’t just going to let this go.

“It’s when most of them earned their titles,” Jin Ling says. Insists. “And they weren’t—you weren’t—that much older than we are. Not really. What’s so bad that we can’t know it?”

Wei Wuxian remembers a sudden flash of sky, of grass scraping at his scalp and cheek as his brother’s hands closed around his neck. He remembers his sister’s hands, raw and swollen from scrubbing and boiling cloth for bandages. The way Lan Wangji had turned away when he’d asked, and your brother? Your uncle? in the Xuanwu cave. The taste of corpse-dirt in the back of his throat.

There are many, many things that no one should ever have to know. And yet … Jin Ling asks so little of him, in the usual way of things. And not every memory is a weakness their elders will resent.

“What do you know about the Yin Iron?” he asks. It’s a safe enough subject—for one thing, he’s something of an expert, and that’s something he made his peace with long ago. For another, it doesn’t reach too deep into the scars lurking under his skin, and he knows that it has to be part of what Jiang Cheng doesn’t talk about: watching his new recruits, cultivators who trusted and believed in him, become mindless foes with the same face. These young cultivators have seen corpse puppets, but they’ve never seen someone turn before their eyes. Someone they knew and fought alongside. Someone they called brother or sister. He can’t imagine Lan Wangji or anyone else from that time talking about it either.

“It can be used to control corpses,” Lan Jingyi says promptly. “To make them stronger. And used too long, the Yin energy can be damaging to the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian snorts. Of course the Lans would teach that second part. He wonders if they also teach of Lan Yi’s sacrifice, these days. He picks up his brush again and sketches an incomplete array—unbalanced and open ended. Energy ever re-directed against its source.

“Have you thought about what control of corpses means, on a battlefield without Yin Iron of your own? Where every fallen ally can become an enemy?”

The sudden stillness around him would indicate that no, they haven’t. More than one looks like his wine is not agreeing with him.

Wei Wuxian picks up another piece of paper and starts a new talisman—fire, to burn away impurities. “There’s a lot I really don’t remember.” He laughs a little and lights the paper with a twist of his fingers. “My memory has always been bad.”

There is quiet as the paper burns to ash and the night breeze sweeps even that away. Wei Wuxian reaches for the wine and pours himself another drink, and that seems to break the moment at least a little. Jin Ling looks particularly disappointed, and Wei Wuxian is debating telling the one or two actually decent stories he has of Jin Zixuan when someone else speaks first.

“But, Wei-qianbei …” Ouyang Zizhen looks around at his friends and Sect brothers, and then back to Wei Wuxian, determination hardening his features. “If we don’t know how it happened, how will we know how to stop it happening again?”

There are nods around the circle, and Wei Wuxian takes another drink to swallow back the tightness rising in his throat. “I’m really not the right person to ask,” he says.  It’s a very noble sentiment they’re nurturing of course, but the world had turned on him much the same way it had on the Wens, and —ahah. He gestures at Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui, triumphant.

“Hanguang-jun,” he says. They stare at him.

“Hanguang-jun doesn’t talk about the war either.” Lan Sizhui’s gaze doesn’t waver, trained on Wei Wuxian.

“There are innumerable things our esteemed Chief Cultivator never puts into words,” Wei Wuxian agrees with a languid wave of his hand, “but does that really mean you don’t know what he thinks?”

Lan Sizhui blinks, then smiles at him.

“The seminars,” says Jin Ling. “He’s setting up—I don’t know, really, lectures and trainings and things, in Gusu and Caiyi, inviting people to speak or visit from all over. Jiujiu says he’ll probably be pushing the rest of us to do that too, soon.”

Ouyang Zizhen nods. “The watchtowers were Jin Guangyao’s project after the war, right? My father says Hanguang-jun wants something better than watchtowers. That he’s working on a new talisman, like the Jin Clan’s butterfly messengers.”

Jin Ling frowns, his hands tightening around his sword. “He hasn’t mentioned the butterfly messengers to me.”

“It’s Hanguang-jun. I don’t think he said anything about it to anyone, Father just saw him writing talismans that turn into pigeons after that conference focused on the towers.”

“Sect Leader Yao doesn’t like how he’s treating the smaller sects.” Liang Fai turns his helmet between his hands, his expression thoughtful. “He says the Chief Cultivator will recognize even just two people as a new sect, if they own so much as a single house to train out of. It’s making the bigger sects nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” says Jin Ling, scowling at him. “And neither is the Jiang Sect.”

“Ah, ah!” Wei Wuxian interrupts before tensions can draw any higher and waves his hands in the space between Jin Ling and Liang Fai. “Let’s talk about something else. Right?”

Jin Ling looks away, but the conversation doesn’t change. 

“He’s worried about communication and response time,” says Lan Jingyi. “He’s always said it’s a cultivator’s job to go where the need is.”

“If more people can identify a problem, or know the right techniques, it won’t get out of hand,” Ouyang Zizhen agrees. “And with more sects, there are more cultivators in more places. It makes sense.”

“He travels.” All eyes shift to Lan Sizhui, who looks only at Wei Wuxian. “That’s part of what you mean, isn’t it? When Lianfang-zun was Chief Cultivator, everyone went to Lanling to speak with him. To the home of the Jin Sect. But Hanguang-jun doesn’t accept as many visiting parties. Most of the time, he goes to them.”

Lan Jingyi’s face scrunches up, doubtful. “I thought that was because he didn’t want to host so many banquets.”

“He still has to attend just as many,” Lan Sizhui points out. “Maybe more, even.”

“He’s staying neutral,” Jin Ling says, sudden and with an expression like he’s even surprising himself. “He can’t speak for Gusu Lan. That’s why Grandmaster Qiren is still at every conference. Because he’s Chief Cultivator, but not Sect Leader.”

That seems to be some sort of breaking point—several people start talking at once, and Wei Wuxian slowly eases himself out of the circle; he’s not needed anymore, and he should probably see himself out before Sect Leader Yao feels forced to offer him a place to sleep. Also, he’s out of wine.

Lan Sizhui meets him at the gates.

“Tell him we’re happy to help, with anything.”

Wei Wuxian frowns at him, confused. “Tell who?”

“Hanguang-jun. When you see him.” Lan Sizhui smiles and pets Little Apple’s nose. “Tell him we want to help. Even Jin Ling, though he might grumble about it.”

Wei Wuxian feels a sudden pang of homesickness—for the familiar walls of Lotus Pier, and for Lan Wangji’s steady presence at his side. But traveling to Yunmeng is no better an idea now that it was this afternoon.

“Ah, A-Yuan,” he says, “you can tell him yourself. You’ll probably see him before I do.” 

Lan Sizhui looks doubtful, but he doesn’t argue. He seems to hesitate a moment, and then he sort of lunges into Wei Wuxian’s side and hugs him. 

“What—”

“Thank you,” Lan Sizhui says as Wei Wuxian tries to figure out what to do with his hands. They’ve only done this a few times, still, and he’s not entirely sure what’s allowed when, and he’s desperately anxious to not mess it up.

“For what?” he asks, settling his free hand on Lan Sizhui’s back. 

“For helping us,” Lan Sizhui says, almost at a whisper, and Wei Wuxian is sure they’re not talking about the gaggle of young cultivators in the garden anymore. He tightens the curl of his arm.

“You don’t need to thank me, A-Yuan. I—”

“Ning-shushu told me a little,” Lan Sizhui interrupts him, the words half-muffled in his collar. “And I’ve heard—I know all the same stories as the rest of them. I mean it. Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head, but he doesn’t protest aloud again. Instead he wraps his other arm around Lan Sizhui as well, and tucks his chin over Lan Sizhui’s white-clad shoulder. He watches the gauzy clouds drift slowly across the brightness of the moon and makes a silent promise: 

This time, they’ll do better.

[cherrywoes]

< entry 001:// prometheus in flesh >

                                        < 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 .𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎...>

[The following is a recorded conversation between Senior Geneticist Ukai Keishin and Senior Biologist Takeda Ittetsu. It is narrated through a personal AI belonging to Takeda Ittetsu. After further review, this conversation has been classified for rank seven priority persons and has been archived.]

UKAI: This is… (He takes a puff of a cigarette. He sounds angry, petulant, and in a state of disbelief.) This is ridiculous. Who decided that this passed legislation? What need do we have for these—these things?

TAKEDA: (He coughs, perhaps out of nerves or anxiety. The shuffling of clothing and the scrape of a chair indicate that he has sat down beside Ukai.) You know what they said, just like I did, Keishin. Once it’s over, it’s done—we need to play cleanup crew afterwards.

UKAI: No one said anything about… (His finger slams into the table as he angrily points at something on the table near him. He doesn’t say the words aloud, fearing that someone will overhear him, perhaps his AI.) That. That is—I’ve spent years of my life with these things and—I can’t do that, Ittetsu. You know I can’t.

TAKEDA: I know. (He sounds sad.) But look on the bright side. Once this is done… (Previous interactions indicate that the slight swallowing sound prefaces nausea and purging.) We can leave this place and never come back. Right?

UKAI: (Hesitantly.) ...Right.

NECTAR CLUNG TO YOUR fingertips in crystal clear strings of sticky sweet euphoria. It spilled from the artificially enhanced flowers clustered in your lap and around your feet, the large, palm sized petals capturing globules of the precious liquid within their curved centers. It tasted sweet, flowery, and, above all, smelled divine; like camellias on the wind, or goldenrods in the spring. It ran down your arms and elbows and dripped down onto your thighs, running rivers down your calves to sluice between your toes, creating a crystal clear lake within your shadow and the chair you sat upon.

“Diet’s good.” The scientist standing outside your cage scribbled something on a bleach white piece of paper. It smelled acrid, a sting to your sensitive nose, and the ink was a bizarre scent, smelling almost like the oil that the older scientists rubbed into their skin to keep it from cracking and drying. “Though her metabolism is through the roof—I’m concerned something may have been missed in her genetic scan during incubation.”

You ignored the scientist, dropping the empty flower to your feet. Like it had been produced to do, it shriveled up and decomposed into a fine brown dust instantaneously, seeping into the biodegradable concrete to be absorbed as nutrients for the life system that kept your cage comfortable and at the right temperature for your body. You watched it shrink and wrinkle and disappear, rubbing your toe through the dust when it was done.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” another scientist said, this one writing down something about your bone structure. “They’ve gotten so lazy in the gestation wing that you could probably slip a bomb in there and no one would notice until it had gone off. I’ll see what I can dig up about her records and genetic material.”

“You do that.” A fast scrawl again, the ink smell stronger this time. “At the rate she’s going, she’ll have eaten through an entire greenhouse before she’s through; let’s add some insects to her diet. Worms, maybe? Or crickets?”

You scrunched your nose and sighed. You hated worms, and crickets too. That didn’t stop them from trying to shove it down your throat every chance they got. They were adamant that it would help with your protein intake, but so far you’d only felt miserable and disgusted when you ate them, slurping them into your mouth obediently like the rest of your flock did. Perhaps with less enthusiasm, but your obedience couldn’t be questioned.

The lab you lived in was a kind of protective facility deep within the ground. They had taught you that the world above was scorched, hot and burnt by the sun and greenhouse gases; that the facility was the safest place to be while they planned to restructure the atmosphere and filter out the toxic fumes with specially made Morphlings—you wouldn’t even call them Morphlings, really, just a hybrid of humans and machines.

Morphlings—the real, true ones—were splices of human and a kind of animal. From birds, to insects, to carnivores, omnivores, or vegetarians, they had spliced them all; some in small amounts, or others, like yours, in large group spawnings that made it difficult to assert yourself over the crowd. You were one of the few who didn’t fit in with your group; the scientists assured you it was because hummingbirds were generally loners by nature, except for their mates, of which you were too young to have—in Morphling standards, you understood, anyway. In human terms, you were old enough; even in bird terms, you were old enough. But Morphlings didn’t reach full maturity until they were twenty-three, supposedly, and you were only two years shy of that goal.

Not that you cared, not really. You had a belly full of nectar at all times, insects to snack on whenever you wished, a few Hummingbird friends you could barely call your ‘friends’, and three humans analyzing you at all times, monitoring your vital signs to make sure you weren’t getting ill or growing some unnatural mutation like so many of the other Morphlings. The last one to have a mutation, you’d heard, had been a little crow Morphling, but any more than that was muddy, usually by default. Any information you heard was from the pieces you gathered from the scientists’ whispers, bland conversations really, and the idle chatter in the canteen in the carnivore’s circle where you weren’t privy.

“Ah, no, no insects for the rest of the week,” the scientist corrected. You looked over curiously, fingers fisting in the petals of a new flower and puncturing the membrane that held the globules of nectar within. You were already full, but you regretted the waste almost immediately when you dropped it to the floor. “They’re putting her through the Trials today.”

Dread crept into your belly. 

The Trials were almost like torture sessions keyed in onto prey surviving predators; for Morphlings, it was much more extreme. You’d heard from several survivors that they were forced to push themselves past the limit to survive whatever carnivorous or omnivorous Morphling they’d put in with them, even being forced to watch their friends get eaten when they got caught. It was supposedly to test their resilience and stamina, but all it really was—at least to you—was a way to cull the flock.

And you were next.

The scientist noticed you staring and smiled, tapping his pen against the frame of your cage mockingly. “Heard me, did you? It won’t change anything. You might as well prepare yourself before you go in. It’s likely you won’t make it out. None of the hummingbird morphs do.”

You wondered how easy it would be to shove your hands through the gaps in the bars and break his neck against the metal. It couldn’t be that difficult; you’d seen some carnivores do it before when they were getting ready for euthanization. Those were the more genetically anomalous ones, but you could probably do it; morphling genes allowed for unusual strength, even for a hummingbird. Despite your hollow bones, you could probably at least get to his eyes if you tried hard enough.

But that wasn’t typical of a Hummingbird morphling. You chalked it up to the human genes in your genome sequence; they always had said you had more ‘human’ in you than the rest, usually spitefully. Other than the two nice men who monitored your changes and such, the rest of them were foul creatures, miserable being stuck in an underground bunker. Humans typically were violent when they were cooped up in small places for extended periods of time, and you, well, you didn’t like being in a cage very much, unlike your fellow hummingbird morphs.

“Whatever you say,” you laughed, rolling your eyes, and got up off the stool. You sauntered your way back into the depths of your cell, vanishing behind a thick curtain of synthetic silk dyed a deep sea green.

The scientist cleared his throat when he spoke to the other man. “Did you know hummingbird morphs could talk?”

Oh. You frowned, bringing your fingers to your mouth, your previous anger forgotten. Experimentally, you flexed the vocal cords in your throat, capable of only chirps of affirmatives and negatives, and felt more—different. They were different.

Interesting... Interesting indeed.

                   < 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐 / 𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚢 / 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝟶𝟶𝟸 >

                    𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕: status: open.

[proper-goodnight]

Detroit: New Beginnings

Summary: It has been one year since the androids claimed their rights to freedom after the revolution, and one year since Connor has decided to stay on the force at the DPD. The duo are currently working on a case involving androids going missing while Connor grapples with what he almost did to Markus at the peace rally and fearing Amanda’s inevitable return.

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Violence, Strong Language

A New Start: Partners (01)

Detroit Police Dept.

August 30, 2039

12:30 P.M.

Tuesday

Chris abandoned his wife’s pastries on the counter in the break room.

Over the years, it had become an unspoken rule to not berate him for the fact that Hank could count the people that were brave enough to try his wife’s newest lifestyle kick for that week on one hand. 

For all of the employees on the force, that wasn’t a lot. He didn’t need any special probability and statistics program to figure that out. 

But, it wasn’t like Hank hadn’t tried. He had, but only once--and couldn’t keep a straight face or control his gag reflex enough to even think about trying it again. Their outward appearance had been what threw him for a loop initially; being made of enough random herbs and healthy shit couldn’t sway the uncanny resemblance between it and actual shit and no amount of Chris promising such couldn’t and would never convince him otherwise.

While Hank may have never cared about what he put in his body, he was still not ignorant enough to test whether or not his tolerance extended to something beyond alcohol or cigarettes. Some days, Connor’s habit of sticking evidence in his mouth suddenly didn’t sound so fucking revolting. 

God, if the kid heard him say that…

In that same area of the precinct, a loud continuous whirring of a coffee machine grinded endlessly. DPD staff shuffled around it eagerly awaiting its cycle to complete, and Gavin had ingested just enough caffeine to erupt into his usual cacophony of loud remarks and comments about fuck-all that morning. 

Of course the prick couldn’t grant them reprieve for even a few minutes. 

Hank supposed if he didn’t then the fucker was either late or… late. It wasn’t like he ever called off.

No, they couldn’t be that lucky.

“No fucking way!” And to complete the morning, here Hank was with a deafening insistence in his tone that left little room to argue over Connor’s suggestion for the umpteenth time that morning. “I have had enough birthdays! I am getting too damn old for this shit!”

In response, Connor looked contemplative, but even more so, unsatisfied with his decision.

Typical Tuesday.

Sitting hunched over his desk, Hank sifted through piles of papers for his tablet. It furthered his incessant personal reminding that he should probably take a few minutes and clear his desk of all of his personal clutter--all of the memorabilia piling up over the years was beginning to make finding anything nigh to impossible, another indication made clear when he bumped a couple of pens to the floor with his elbow. 

Cursing, he dismissed it to the abyss below his desk, staring at the screen with faux concentration. The contrast between their work stations was proving more apparent as the days went on, Connor’s completely clean of surface clutter and retaining a fresh sheen despite having claimed it a little over a year ago.

Besides the mess, the spinning yellow circle glaring at him just outside of his peripherals held his focus, having more recently recognized it as a sign of the android’s thinking--thought processing. Whatever. 

Connor’s brows were furrowed, eyes fixed on him as if deciding in some sort of situational software that he had of some other option that would help move their conversation into a more positive direction, something that would somehow change it in his favor. He wasn’t getting anywhere, and Hank wasn’t going to take any bait. 

The android’s lips parted to speak, but Hank was already turning away, grumbling incoherently under his breath. 

And nothing that he would reiterate unless Fowler was going to lecture him about playing nice with his co-workers. Again.

Perched on the only unoccupied corner of his desk, arms crossed over a broad chest, Connor worked a tick in his jaw. If androids had actually possessed the need to breathe--and their biocomponents that simulated breathing were actually functional for that sole purpose--the asshole may have just sighed. For the briefest of an instance, he caught his partner’s stoic expression, tight-lipped and silently asking for some sort of agreement between the pair.

It wasn’t offered.

“I have been researching human cultural practices and I thought that maybe--”

“Drop it. You want to celebrate, then do it for yourself why don’t ya? Celebrate your one year since deviating. That’s in a couple of months.”

Connor almost looked thoughtful, features folding over in confusion as he worked through some sort of response. Hank’s celebration into an even older age was many in the long list of arguments that the two seemed to have, but it was also one of the only topics that Connor seemed ever insistent to talk about that didn’t revolve around a case.

That made it unavoidable.

Goddammit. 

“I don’t think that qualifies as the same thing, Lieutenant.”

“Take my word for it. Let’s just go over the case.” To further his point, he swept his hand over the case files that had piled up on his desk the last couple of weeks. One large unorganized mess of manila folders and reports. “If Jeffrey dumps any more shit about it on my desk, I’m going to resign it.” It was a harmless jab in an effort to get Connor motivated, anything involving the words case or leads never failed to catch his attention.

Connor straightening from his rare hunched posture proved that fact rang true. 

Even after finally closing the deviancy case. 

The conversation, begrudgingly, wasn’t done though. It would be brought up again eventually. Unless the kid forgot or got distracted with something else.

Who the fuck was he kidding?

Connor never forgot. He didn’t possess the ability to forget. Maybe his stubborn nature could be argued with but in the last year or so being his partner, it was something that Hank faced with raw aggression and chose to avoid. 

“Could’ve originated from the peace rally.” Hank went on, rubbing at his chin with faux concentration at the various folders opened up in front of him. He didn’t think any of them were relevant to their current case anyway. “The dates between that and the first android incident are pretty damn close together. Then again, maybe it’s just a weird coincidence.” The words unfolded into a low mutter under his breath, slumping back against his chair. 

He spinned to the side to assess the clutter, a quick sweeping gaze over the mess and he retrieved the file that they needed and extended it to the android. 

Connor’s eyes had followed every movement, and Hank assumed he was judging his lack of organization. 

At least he kept his mouth shut if he was.

“Two guys were sent to the hospital last night.” Hank went on.

“According to the reports from Officer Miller, they were walking home from a Red Ice Anonymous meeting.” Connor confirmed.

Of course he’d kept up to date.

“They were jumped. He went to ask them some questions, bust aside from a brief statement, we ain’t getting much out of ‘em right now.” While he spoke, Connor flicked through it with practiced precision while simultaneously picking it apart. For what he already didn’t know, and Hank didn’t figure that was a lot. 

And while it would be denied for the rest of Hank’s life, he would never admit that he was even somewhat jealous of Connor. If humans possessed the ability to see anyone’s information by a quick scan or retaining an entire casework of information in a few seconds, the meeting and getting-to-know-you shit of social relationships would be made easier by miles. Then again, he didn’t need any superior programming to know that his time would be better spent at home with Sumo. 

“According to their file, Mr. Greene and Mr. Nicholson did in fact have a Red Ice history in the past.” 

“That bit checks out with what Chris managed to get from ‘em at least. Not the worst druggies I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with.” A smirk pulled at one edge of his lips. If they were the worst of the worst, his job would have been a lot easier and most cases would be an opened and closed one. 

“Possession and usage that earned them a few months jail time.” Connor confirmed, turning a suddenly quizzical gaze in his direction, dipping his chin. His brows pinched. “Wasn’t Detective Reed assigned all cases involving Red Ice?” The mention of their most eccentric detective was enough to pull a look of discomfort from the android. 

Maybe it was the ill memory of the beating that he’d been forced to give him in the evidence room last year. Either way, Hank swore that Connor had some kind of satisfaction from it. He didn’t think so. 

The bloody nose that he had given Perkins however? Fucking classic! 

“He is, but there was Thirium found at the scene. No fingerprints on the weapon that was likely used in the attack. We’re looking at another Carlos Ortiz case except we can push an android through a fair trial now.” 

Connor closed the case folder in his lap, his fingers plucking gingerly at the corner. That spinning yellow circle glared accusingly. “If the claims of their whereabouts are in fact correct, then I think that our best course of action is to question them ourselves. Maybe they can recall more when the shock period has passed. Distinct characteristics, how many androids there were in total, even.”

“Not to bust your balls kid, but we can’t scan a serial number like you can. Not to mention all of you androids have the same face. There’s no record of them ever owning an android, but…” Hank threw up his hands in surrender. “Maybe there’s a past history we don't know about. We’ll follow another lead over the next few days,” he decided. “See if they can’t give us anything else by the end of the week.”

With that, Hank breathed out a long-winded sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as though fighting off a headache. Connor was a headache enough, the case being the migraine. He waved his free hand over his desk. “Take your pick. God knows we’ve got plenty.” A pained laugh slipped past his lips, almost incredulous. Borderline sympathetic. 

For them.

Propping his elbow on the chair’s armrest, he leaned his head against a curled fist. His partner’s gaze was distant, even as Hank tried to meet it with a vague curiosity of his own. 

He waited.

“What are you thinking, Connor?” No response was offered, that same accusatory yellow glaring at Hank just out of the corner of his eye. 

Connor’s features folded, looking to an empty space at his right. Upon further inspection, Hank noted that nothing was there, looking between the two confirming the assumption that he was in some far off place elsewhere. An abrupt snap of his fingers in front of Connor’s nose brought him back. He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head. “Nothing. Nothing relative to our case.”

“Any other time you’re pulling leads out of your ass.” The remark was followed by an exaggerated sigh. His eyes rolled to the side. “This is the first time that you don’t wanna input your opinion? Finally hit a damn wall with enough dead leads, didn’t ya?”

A slight tug pulled at one edge of Connor’s mouth, working a tick underneath a rigid jawline. “Hilarious, Lieutenant.” He mumbled.

“It was a pretty damn good joke in my opinion." With a dismissive hand gesture--a quick slice of his hand through the air--he reached across his desk to retrieve one stack of case files. It didn't account for the other large piles but hell, it was a start. 

“That is a personal opinion.”

“What the fuck ever.” Running a shaky hand through his hair--something else that Connor blamed on Hank's poor diet--his gaze never left him, flicking over his rigid form with a blatant curiosity. "We should go talk to Markus. There’s a good chance that he would know somethin'?" 

And then Connor moved from his perch. Carefully--stiffly was a better way of putting it--around the edge of the desk. Long precise fingers fumbled for the coin in his pocket. It rolled across his knuckles, coming to a complete stop as it was flicked into the opposite palm. Hesitation made the movement rigid, not as fluent as it normally would be. A tick worked itself underneath a rigid jawline. Connor didn't look at him, and instead passed by to his own desk. 

"You haven't seen him since the peace rally," Hank prodded. "I think it's about time we paid him a visit, don't you?" 

"I don't know," He answered in what was almost a whisper, voice low. Unsure. "I've assessed the database's files and all of the reports involving our missing androids. I have only come to the conclusion that older models, or new deviants are being reported disappearing from Jericho. That and it's still limited to Detroit and only a few surrounding cities.” He shrugged. “So far." 

Connor shook his head in defeat. "My most recent solution was to send a scan parts to Cyberlife, but-"

"All of the missing reports we’ve managed to solve end with the android self destructing and destroying their systems," Hank finished for him. "That and its considered murder with your rights. Can't just go pulling apart an android and not expect to get your ass busted." 

"I do not know if an exception can be made for some kind of malfunction. I could probe its memory, but there is no evidence as to how that would affect my own systems." 

"Keeping you at a distance makes the shit harder." Hank agreed, and other than nodding in response, Connor offered no comment. "Until we can figure out if it can be spread, there isn’t much that you can do." 

"Why don't you take your chances and see what the hell happens?" An all too familiar and unapologetically arrogant voice drew closer to their desks. Gavin came to a full stop at their desks, arms folded over his chest with a smirk that never ceased to infuriate him. Both of them, he assumed.

He grimaced. 

Fucking asshole.

"Fuck off, Reed. Don't you have your own case?" Hank grumbled, an edge to his tone that Gavin brushed off a condescending smirk.

"Unlike you and the plastic prick, I've actually made headway." Gavin boasted, his interest in Hank diverted to Connor who watched passively. Most of the time he acted as if Gavin was gum under his shoe that he could scrape on the sidewalk and be done with. Like he couldn't be bothered even when he had a gun in his face and death threats on his name. Hank had been guilty of that look once.

Gavin was full of shit, but Hank wouldn't put anything past him. Even now.

"Hey plastic," Gavin halted in front of the android, squaring up his shoulders. The situation would have been alarming if the difference in height wasn't so obvious. Reed had to look up to address him and Connor responded by raising his eyebrows, tilting his head to the right. 

"Hello, Detective Reed."

"I thought that after the walking toasters were suddenly recognized as people you would leave. A detective android prototype hunting androids is still doing the exact same damn thing." He sneered. 

"I assessed that it would be appropriate to remain in the android crimes department to further offer my assistance to the DPD." His hands folded in front of him, meeting Gavin's eyes with that usual infuriatingly neutral expression. The little twitch in Connor's facial features gave him away however, signaling his annoyance at the detective's harsh jobs.

Gavin didn't see it, but Hank knew him well enough that it was impossible to miss. 

"Yet you're still wearing your Cyberlife threads. I'd almost think that you liked hunting 'em down. Does it give you a sick thrill, prick?" 

"Reed!" Hank interjected, rising stiffly from his desk chair. "That's enough."

"I believe that wearing my uniform shows more professionalism than a leather jacket and a relentlessly hostile attitude, Detective." Connor's brows raised and relaxed sequentially, a slight and subtle twitch pulling at one corner of his mouth. 

"The hell did you just say to me, tin can?" Gavin leaned forward, hand clenching at his side into a fist that he pulled back and took aim on the android. 

"I said that's enough!" Hank barked, shoving himself in between them. 

Gavin was shoved back a few steps.

Connor didn't budge. 

"Back off! Can't you ignore him for five fucking minutes?" 

"Fuck," An enraged gaze flicked between Hank and Connor. Gavin snarled in frustration, one hand slipping seamlessly into the pockets of his jacket, the other pointing an accusing finger in the android's direction like it hadn't been the detective that had approached them with the intention of starting shit. 

Hank scoffed. 

"I'll never so much as tolerate the plastic asshole. The day there are two of him is the day I put in my resignation." One last threatening glare was thrown their way, the threat released into a spat. Before either could comment, Gavin was storming off, cursing incoherently under his breath. 

Surprisingly it had gone better than most of the other times. Hank would have admitted that. 

Evidently, every altercation passed by Connor without a second thought. Hell, maybe not even a first. The evidence room incident remained the only time that the android actually retaliated on him. That being that he needed to in order to accomplish his mission. 

Still, he caught Connor's expression as Gavin was leaving. He watched him through distrusting slits, LED flashing yellow for a split second before correcting itself. His jaw was tense, something dark stirring within him, something troubled that Hank didn't quite recognize. It was only when Hank actually decided to speak that Connor finally looked at him, eyes softening into something more calm, relaxed. Normal. 

"Let's go ask Markus some questions. Any idea where he might be?" In a gesture of reassurance that didn't quite reach him, Hank placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Markus has been overseeing the conversion and stock of dormant androids at the remaining Cyberlife stores. We can pull up those that have yet to be listed as maintenance and distribution centers and start there." And as if nothing had changed, as if the threat from the DPD's most eccentric detective had already been forgotten--at least it would have been if he wasn't squirming underneath a clenched jaw--the task of talking to Markus seemed to unnerve him more. Talking to the deviant leader was a task that Connor was less inclined to do over listening to Reed berating him every chance he got. 

The observation was a question for later, and truthfully Hank didn't anticipate an answer. 

Connor stepped back to allow him through first, Hank's hand slipping from his shoulder to dangle uselessly at his side instead. Expression falling flat, he waved him through. "After you, Lieutenant."

[masquerade-story]

Chapter 5 - Commencing Plan

"Earth has magic too. Alchemy and enchantments. Chemistry and technology. Same things, different names." Crystal spoke slowly as she examined the cloth material in her hands, checking for tears or weak points in the weave.

Grey pumped his fist, a triumphant look on his face. "I knew it! No way that backflipping robot was natural science."

"Science is the study of the world around you. It doesn't cancel out the existence of magic, it just helps to understand its rules better."

"Listen here, little miss know-it-all."

"I don't know it all, just more than you."

"Hey!"

Crystal grinned, finishing her examination without sparing an extra glance for the outraged Grey stomping his foot at her side.

"That's a low bar some days," Rayne said with an exaggerated sigh, then promptly ducked as Grey chucked a pillow at her face.

"Lils!" Grey whined, draping dramatically over his sister's lap, interrupting her own costume examination. "They're bullying me!"

"The truth hurts sometimes dearest," Lillian muttered, much to her twin's dismay. He recoiled away as though she'd flung him, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in distress.

"Betrayal! Mine own blood doth betray!"

"My point," Crystal continued, using a needle and thread to tighten up a bit of beaded tape on a hem that came loose. "Was that when I said magic exists on this world, I mean I don't know what form this world's magic is going to take, so we should be careful until we understand more. It may be familiar, like chemistry and technology, or it could be something more fantastical, like what that Eater pulled on us. Until we know the rules, we shouldn't be reckless."

"What if being reckless is part of the rules?"

"Then we'll find out soon enough and adjust our course of action."

"I hate that you have an answer for everything."

"Then stop asking questions."

Crystal and Grey stuck out their tongues at each other while Lillian giggled, and Rayne shook her head at the foolishness of it all. "Children, please."

"You're the youngest one here!"

"Hard to tell by looking, huh?" Rayne shrugged. She wasn't nearly as useful with sewing, so she'd taken to tying on little chimes and ribbons to decorate her bodhrán since her large acoustic kit was much too large and bulky for their purposes. The small frame drum, just a bit over a foot in diameter and only four inches deep, was much easier to carry and play.

When they brought their main instruments for the music video, they brought along a few supplementary instruments to use for the mixing as well. Actual recording was going to happen in a proper studio, but sometimes having them around and playing them when practicing could spark more natural inspiration than trying to force it during a recording session.

So in addition to Crystal's small harp, Grey's bouzouki, Lillian's electric keyboard and Rayne's acoustic drum kit, they also brought along macho bongos, a bodhrán, a tambourine, a fiddle, a bombard, an ocarina, a zither, enough bell bangles for the four of them, and a kalimba which Lillian was unnaturally proficient with. None of the instruments were particularly large, so it was easy to fit them in alongside everything else in the hand cart. Especially the kalimba - a hand-sized wooden board with attached staggered metal tines, which made an ethereally charming resonating sound when played despite its minuscule size.

"Rayne's got her drum, I'm taking my bouzouki, Lils is bringing..."

"Kalimba."

"Right, right. Coco, which instrument are you grabbing?"

Crystal snipped the thread with her teeth after tying a tight knot. "Since Lils is bringing the kalimba, I'll go with the fiddle."

"Ooh, are we gonna do a jig?"

"Maybe. We have to see what the climate's like in town."

"Climate is cold, Coco. There's snow."

"Emotional climate, Goofus! If something terrible happened recently, if there's an illness going around or a famine or what have you, it'd be inappropriate to run in with a nice cheerful Stick Across the Hob."

"Ah, Morrison's Jig. A classic."

"We can play it if people are friendly to us. Who knows, maybe they hate folk music. There was a time in our own history where the only socially appropriate music was religious hymns, you know."

"Gross."

"Right? So again, we just have to be careful."

"And then once they like us we can do fun songs, right?"

"Maybe slow tempo drinking songs or instrumental sea shanties to uh, test the waters."

"Har de har. Lyrics?"

"I really, really, extremely thoroughly and tragically doubt they'll speak English or any of the other languages we can sing in, and they might be alarmed by foreign languages. Classic orchestral music might be our best bet, honestly."

A potentially insurmountable language barrier was part of the reason their little group hemmed and hawed about heading to town. On the one hand they definitely needed more information about the world, but on the other hand, walking in without any knowledge or method of communication was a terrifying prospect.

So they did what they all did best, and procrastinated productively. The costumes were a good start, but they weren't sturdy enough to withstand frigid winter winds since the things were entirely cosmetic. Lillian proposed they somehow create thicker linings for their clothes, and Grey suggested they make use of the house's ability to restore items in order to do just that. But for that to work, they'd have to understand how it worked.

That night they waited with bated breath after destroying a single pillow, shredding it to bits as a sacrifice to the experimental gods of magic science. As soon as midnight ticked over on the household clocks, a new pillow appeared in its original place on its appropriate bed, and the shredded remains of the sacrificed pillow were still laying sad and limp on the floor.

"Infinite pillow glitch," Grey had whispered with delight, setting the other three to helpless giggling at his dumb joke.

The next day was spent ruining disposable objects around the house to various degrees and moving them around in order to determine the magic house's threshold of accounting damage and item 'respawning' limits. Some items were completely replaced, some were merely repaired, items from outside the property didn't count, and everything else had different thresholds for what counted as damage and what didn't.

While everyone was running around wrecking their house and generally having a good time doing magic science, Crystal put an empty jar outside of the fence to sit overnight. After the reset that night, it was fully replaced complete with its original contents, while the original empty jar remained outside of the property wedged into the snow.

Crystal smiled to herself with this new discovery, and put several small jars of preserves outside the fence in one of the small wooden crates she found in the cellar, covered with a thick towel to help insulate the glass.

"What were you getting up to?" Grey asked, as she stomped back into the house rubbing her arms to fight off the winter chill.

"Wishing we had warmer clothes," Crystal sighed, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling Grey he wouldn't get any answers yet. "Or at least pajamas with sleeves."

"Plotting something sinister?"

"Maybe."

"Rock on. Lemme know if I can help."

"Of course."

With their new knowledge regarding item respawn rules, they set about tearing more pillows and sheets into raw materials for upgrading their silly stage costumes into something functional, and copied the costumes into several spare sets for each of them just in case.

The costumes were inspired by fantasy medieval fashion and Renaissance faire finery, all four virtually identical in styling. Surcoats with silver bead tape and embroidery, high collar tunics with voluminous bishop sleeves, canvas cloaks with deep hoods, leather bracers, leather boots, leather belts with ring clasps, assorted leather bags, gloves, and leggings. Aside from the white tunic, everything was black with silver embellishments such as bead tape and braided fabric trims, or embroidery that shimmered in the light. The cloaks also sported little silver jingling bells attached along the hem, matching decorative bells on the boots and bags.

Most importantly, each of them had a unique Venetian masquerade mask with an attached beaded black face veil. The intricate, ornate masks had little bells dangling from loops on the sides, and were decorated with gemstone accents around and above the eyes; each member of Aos Sí Echtrae used a different gemstone for their stage name to capitalize on all the 'Fairy Rock' jokes they could make.

Plus, Crystal was already named after a shiny rock, so it was convenient all around.

"How are we gonna make these clothes warmer?" Grey asked, holding up his surcoat and raising an eyebrow in Lillian's direction.

"Quilting." Lillian said, gesturing with her hands to try and pantomime what she meant. "Gonna create pocket insulation layers using sheets, fill them with cotton and feather down and foam and whatever else we have to use. Then sew the pocket insulation layer in the middle of the original costume layer and an inner lining, to make the clothes warm without sacrificing their aesthetic!"

"The cloaks too?"

"The cloaks especially. They're already a strong sturdy material and have been water sealed, insulating them will basically turn them into actual quilts to shield us from the wind. In fact, I'll probably use cloak copies to make waterproof pants, since insulating leggings is a bit hard thanks to their thin material..."

"Too bad we can't make better boots too," Crystal sighed, glancing out the window. It hadn't stopped snowing since they arrived, and though most of the layers didn't completely stick, there was still a foot of snow outside they'd have to slog through to reach town. If the weather continued, they would have to put off the visit until some of that snow melted off.

"I'll break the path for you guys," Rayne said, flexing a powerful bicep. "No worries. We should still wait until it stops snowing, though. Walking through bad weather always sucks, even more so if it's over a big distance."

"Remembering high school?"

"God, that hill was brutal."

"Hey, everyone gets to help out with this!" Lillian said, pointing at the other three who were subtly edging toward the door during their conversation.

"I can't sew," Rayne quickly protested, and Lillian held up a finger to shush her.

"The lining doesn't have to be sewn pretty, the stitches just have to be strong. We need to make several copies of the belts, I want to repurpose them into something else... And I wanna keep an original copy of the costumes as well as have several sets of each so this is gonna take a few days worth of resetting to complete. Oh! Rayne, you can find big branches to make into walking sticks, the ground will be uneven under the snow and we don't wanna trip."

"Yes ma'am..."

Under Lillian's watchful eye, everyone got to work on different tasks in order to prepare for their first visit to another world's town, feeling a combination of trepidation and excitement in their hearts.

------

"Hey guys? There's uh. There's something weird." Rayne's voice echoed down the hall, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as she hurried toward the living room where the others were gathered around the finished costumes and enjoying the last of their breakfast.

"What in the... Is that... Is that a telescope?!" Grey asked incredulously as Rayne rounded the corner with something large and heavy in her arms.

"I was checking out the study and found it in one of the cabinets. So, the study has that windowed alcove bit that sticks out from the side of the house, right?"

"Yeah, like a breakfast nook but for books. Book nook!" Grey grinned, switching his attention from the costumes to the big brass telescope that Rayne was hurriedly setting up in front of the largest living room window. "This thing is ancient! There's no way this isn't some priceless antique or something!"

"Yes yes it's very cool and belonged to a former trade ship navigator about a hundred years ago don't ask how I know that I'm not sure either I understand why this weirds Coco out now, but that's not important!" Rayne wheezed, peering through the eyepiece and adjusting the focus before stepping away. "Look at the town."

Grey peeked through first, too excited about the telescope itself to wait much longer. He stared in silence for a good long moment, then frowned and stepped away to give Lillian room. "That's... You're right, that is weird. But I can't quite put my finger on why... I mean, aside from the architecture itself? But something else is bugging me..."

"It's hard to see detail from here even with the telescope, but I think some of them had glowing symbols decorating them?" Lillian said with a shrug after she had her turn. "They're pretty, and unusual for sure. Either magic or electricity, but I hope it's magic. That'd be cool!"

Crystal took her turn last, automatically touching her face to lift up the glasses that she no longer had to wear. She gave a soft laugh at finding her face naked, shook her head, and peered through the eyepiece.

The buildings were indeed strangely pretty, smooth white or silver constructs with colorful glass roofs, in sleek appealing shapes that more suited a science fiction setting rather than fantasy. Some had glowing symbols etched under arched windows or in rows along walls, but the light was dim and flickering, and it was impossible to tell from afar what shape the symbols had.

"The town has a uniform layout," Crystal said quietly, furrowing her brow. "It's a planned city. Wide roads on a grid, a perfectly arched wall surrounding the whole thing except where the harbor is. The tallest building is in the middle, might be a palace or castle? But... There's no people."

"Wait, what?!" Lillian exclaimed while Grey snapped his fingers in realization.

"That's it! Even though it's winter, there'd still be people moving around and working and stuff, right? But those roads are totally empty! No cars or wagons or pedestrians or nothing."

Crystal swung the telescope around, peering into the empty harbor, then past that toward the horizon where puffy white sails broke the barrier between sea and sky. "Ah, the ships... The city is really sleek and almost futuristic, but those ships are..."

Grey nudged Crystal aside to steal the eyepiece again, bouncing his leg with excitement. "Yo! Those are some real nice maritime vessels, my friends! Four-masted wooden masterpieces, and is that mizzenmast lateen-rigged? Squared raised stern, that's a nice prominent booty on those ships for sure. Those big boys are either carracks or galleons, or whatever they're called in this world. Whew, they're real beauties!"

"Was it an evacuation?" Lillian asked, concern coloring her voice, but Grey shook his head.

"Doubt it. The sails are torn and mended all over the place, and I think I see minor hull damage on the ones up close, but those lads are definitely pointed toward the town, and resting in a recognizable formation at that. They've been through a long journey to get here specifically, I think. In fact..." Grey swung the telescope, adjusting the focus as he went, searching to and fro until he spotted what he was looking for.

"They were further away when we first got here," Rayne said, holding up her fingers in a little pinching gesture. "The sails were like, this big on the horizon."

Grey nodded, then exclaimed aloud. "Aha! Found a pinnace! I dunno why it took them so long to approach, but they're moored in the deeps now, not sheltering in the harbor. And there, by the town wall! There's a little camp. Looks like... Ten people? They used a small pinnace boat to approach so it's probably a landing party scouting the area to see if it's safe to approach."

"I didn't see people! Let me see!" Rayne bumped Grey aside with her hip, stealing the telescope back. "There they are! Oh, they're still unloading the boat."

"It was still snowing pretty hard until like, today. They probably only just sent the team out." Grey said, and Rayne nodded in agreement.

"Looks like it. Hmm... Their clothes do look a little like our costumes, I think? They're tiny colorful blurs, but I think I see a couple people in cloaks, and possibly armor? Using our costumes is probably the best idea after all."

"But now things have gotten a bit more complicated," Crystal muttered, drumming her fingers on her bottom lip as thoughts tumbled around in her mind. "There's no permanent settlement yet. For some reason that city is empty, and we don't know why. The city looks more advanced than anything the people in wooden ships would be capable of making, no matter how nice the ships are, so they probably aren't the same civilization. If they have that many ships, are they colonizers? Are there natives to this land we need to worry about? How would they see us if we, as strangers who don't even speak their language, suddenly walked up while they're trying to settle an apparently empty foreign city?"

Grey and Lillian exchanged glances, while Rayne turned from the telescope and placed a hand on her hip. "Coco. Relax."

"How can I relax? If they're not friendly we're probably boned! They'll definitely come explore the forest for resources and they'll find us and-"

"Crystal!"

Crystal flinched as Rayne grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake, bringing her back to her senses. She hadn't even realized she'd hunched over and started scratching at the delicate pale flesh of her arms, bright red tracks screaming their distress under her fingernails. She shivered, forcing her clawed hands to relax, and took a deep breath. "Ah... S-sorry, I... I just..."

"Does it feel dangerous?" Lillian asked, her voice calming Crystal's nerves with its serenity.

She thought a moment, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No. It doesn't feel dangerous. I'm just... Worried, I think. Anxious. There's so many unknowns..."

"If they're gonna find us anyway, let's go to them on our own terms," Grey said, giving Crystal's face a gentle tap with his knuckles. "Right? We readied the costumes anyway, and Rayne whittled us some fine walking sticks."

"I even polished them."

"See? She polished them, Coco."

"There was wood lacquer in the maintenance closet."

"Wood lacquer, Coco!"

"Alright, alright!" Crystal threw up her hands in defeat, struggling in vain to hide the growing smile on her face. "You win. Let's get dressed and go make first contact."

"The masks are mandatory!" Grey said, grabbing his off the living room table. "If we're gonna be a minstrel group we gotta look the part!"

"I finished the slings for your instruments, so you can carry the cases on your back under the cloaks. Should make it less of a strain to lug them through the snow." Lillian looked proud as she showed off the repurposed leather belts, carefully measured to fit each of them and evenly distribute the weight of the heavy cases across their torsos. "My kalimba is small enough to fit in a bag so I felt like this is the least I could do to help."

"You're so great Lils," Grey sighed, giving his twin a grateful hug.

"I'll go get the sticks," Rayne said, running upstairs.

Meanwhile, Crystal rolled her eyes and heaved a despondent sigh. "Man... I have to wear actual clothes again..."

"It's too cold to be a nudist, Coco."

"I'm not a nudist, I'm just texture sensitive!"

"You'd be a nudist if it was socially acceptable."

"Eh... Debatable. I'm kinda lumpy."

"No you're just soft and huggable."

"Which makes me lumpy. Oh well, at least the costume materials feel nice." Crystal sighed once more, grabbing her outfit off the living room table. "Alright, everyone turn off their vision for a second."

"We have all seen you naked, Crystal."

"We all took turns washing your back when you went through physical therapy, Crystal."

"Also this is the living room."

"Nudist."

"Exhibitionist."

"Can't hear you guys I'm already naked!" Crystal stuck out her tongue as, contrary to her statement, she headed down the hallway toward the bathroom in order to change in privacy.

"Who's naked?" Rayne called down the stairs, accompanied by the thumping sound of four walking sticks repeatedly hitting the banister as she descended.

"Everyone except you!" Grey called back, his voice muffled as he pulled the blouse over his head.

"I had to get the sticks, no one told me we were having a nudey party!"

"Nudey parties are better fun with guests that aren't basically your relatives," Lillian grumbled, and Rayne nodded as she dumped the walking sticks on the nearest sofa.

"Eh, true. No offense, you guys are our unofficial adopted siblings."

"No no, it's mutual. You both are our sisters, seeing you lot naked does not rustle my jimmies in the slightest."

"Completely unrustled?"

"Not even a jostle."

"Damn."

"Wait, why are we unofficially adopted? There's no birth records in this world for us. We can just be siblings and no one will ever be able to prove otherwise."

"Shit, you're right! Okay, you're all adopted by me now. You can call me Mama."

"Like hell we will, you're the youngest!"

"Respect your elders, young man!"

Crystal laughed to herself as their voices echoed faintly through the closed bathroom door, then focused on getting dressed. Her costume was modified further thanks to a personal request she'd made, adding a long black wrap skirt that went to her ankles to be worn over the leggings. She also added a silver sash around the waist and under the belt, made using one of the spare bedsheets.

She didn't mind pants so long as the material was nice, but she preferred the swish of long skirts and dresses because it felt more fun, and if she had to wear clothes anyway they might as well be layered and interesting. Just so long as the inner layer actually touching her body was a nice comfortable fabric!

Lillian made the skirt match the rest of the outfit using bead tape and braided fabric, and liked the resulting skirt so much she added a shorter skirt and some frilly modifications to her own outfit. Then Grey wanted some fancy embellishments and dangling cloth bits to look more dramatic, so in the end only Rayne kept the original design.

"We look amazing," Grey said with a delighted sigh as everyone gathered together in the living room once more to don their masks.

"Are the masks really necessary?" Lillian mumbled as she tugged on the gossamer veil, causing the beaded decorations woven into the fine material to jingle and shimmer. "I mean... What if not being able to see our faces scares them, or makes them suspicious?"

"Then we can take them off?" Grey said with a shrug, slinging the shoulder strap of his instrument case over his arm before settling his cloak. "But I think it adds to our mystique as wandering minstrels, and we look fantastic rather than threatening. Plus, they're the ones landing near our house, right? We're the ones living here. For all they could know, it's culturally inappropriate to walk around with naked faces!"

"We'll have to get pretty close to know for sure," Crystal said. After a moment's thought, she took out her hairclip and left it on the coffee table, allowing her long blonde hair to tumble free in the brief moment before she put up her hood. She'd spent enough time in cold climates to know long hair was best left protecting one's neck from cold air. "We'll watch their body language as we approach. If they seem hostile, we'll back off. In the meantime, we should bring some food. It's a long hike."

Everyone agreed, filing into the kitchen to pack snacks and sandwiches into their bags. Crystal tucked a few jars of preserves into hers, bringing only those and a couple sandwiches instead of cramming the space with small packs of miniature cookies and potato chips like everyone else. Her choice of foodstuff went unnoticed, since everyone else was busy playing Tetris trying to fit their chosen assortment of snacks into relatively small bags.

Once everyone felt prepared enough for their journey, they took a moment to brace themselves, each grabbing a homemade walking stick, then stepped out of the house into the snow.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Crazy idea that I figured right now. Thomas dosn't hear like someone that would get married, even with a person of his kind (g r u m p t y) so, Allison is a witch (cannon btw).. love potion? Sorry is pretty funny for me.

Summary: One of Allison's more peculiar interests turns out better than she expected, if only because of a slight mistake.

---

[[MORE]]

If questioned on the subject, Allison wouldn't exactly call herself a witch. She had an interest in witchcraft, sure, but she herself was not an expert nor a professional on the arts of ancient beldams and shamans.

She was, however, the owner of a vast and ever growing collection of tomes that were the aglommoration of such olden knowledge.

Of these powerful tomes came the biggest of her fixations: Potion brewing, more specifically the refinement of elixirs.

It was amazing what a few select ingredients could produce if you were to extract or prepare them in a certain way. From all natural remedies to combat the effects of illness, to powerful poisons and even blends that could condition the mind to do certain things.

It was an art that could be used to do as much good as it could do evil, and Allison knew a few select witches of the past had indeed done evil when others scorned them so. To the detriment of those that had been pure in their intentions, as were many of the victims of the Salem Witch Trials.

But Allison wasn't looking to do much with her knowledge besides sate her curiosity and test a few interesting blends. Most went into helping those around her anonymously...

A few drops in a cup of coffee and suddenly Jack's bad cough was gone. A whiff of her perfume, and Sammy was a lot calmer than he'd been a minute or so ago. Even a few delicious homemade cupcakes got everyone into a creative rut that kept Joey off their backs.

She was benevolent in her actions... But... There was one particular blend she wanted to try for more selfish reasons. A love potion of a sort, composed of natural aphrodisiacs and calming herbs.

One she hoped to try on the object of her affections, a man that had such an impeccable work ethic that she doubted he even knew she even existed (which was odd as most men often buzzed around her like bees to a flower, because of her attractive features). It frustrated her to no end that Thomas Connor was a difficult person to understand, or to get close to.

Her previous experiences with past boyfriends had always been quite linear, so the mysterious engineer being so hard to read was baffling. No man nor any woman should be a puzzle so hard to figure out, and her lack of progress on this matter only made her feel more attracted towards him.

So here she was, trying to find Mr. Connor's coffee mug, ready to slip him an all natural drug that would definitely turn his gaze towards her... You know, like some degenerate wench...

"Oh you've sunk low Al... You've sunk very low." She murmured to herself as she looked through the shared cupboard. There was a myriad of different mugs that were unique so as to distinguish them from someone else's property. A lot of people in the studio were against sharing their cups after all, thus this fun little measure that definitely wasn't making it hard for her right now.

She knew the mug with brightly colored polkadots was Norman's, as it was a silly play on his last name (one Mel had started as a means to poke fun at him). She also knew the white one with intricate depictions of songbirds and forget-me-nots was Sammy's (a gift to him from his sister apparently), and that the bright green one with stocky writing on it was Shawn's (Mr. Flynn was, after all, fond of yelling 'Top o' the Morning to ya' to everyone at the earliest hours of the morning).

But, for the life of her, she couldn't find a mug that she thought might fit Thomas's personality at all... They were all varying degrees of either pretty or silly and none really screamed his name. Not until she squinted and found one that was bland enough to be a no-nonsense GENT employee's pick.

A simple black mug with absolutely nothing extraordinary about it, sitting besides a white mug with paw prints on it (likely Wally's as he had a fondness for dogs).

Taking that bland old mug, she proceeded with her plan.

-

By 9 AM sharp, Allison was a bundle of nerves. She'd prepared Thomas's coffee separately before making everyone else their own mugs to avoid suspicion. Then she'd set out a plate of cupcakes (some vanilla, some chocolate) to make it seem like an innocent little gesture rather than the shameful and depraved act that it actually was, and greeted everyone on her way out of the break room.

Morale was great that morning, but so was her increasing guilt... She shouldn't be meddling with what others felt, especially not trying to bewitch her crush into liking her for a brief moment. Yet here she was, hoping to bump into a drugged up Thomas Connor and get him to praise her in some form.

Her need for validation was... Rotten. She hated it, she hated that she'd gone to these lengths just to feel like someone genuinely cared for her rather than her good looks.

So when she did find her crush at last, she didn't feel so good about the plan anymore.

"Allison could I maybe speak to you for a second?" The gruff voice of Thomas Connor wasn't particularly loud, at least not louder than many of the other employees in the music department, so she jumped slightly when he approached her quietly during her break from recording.

"I... Yes certainly." Her stomach felt like it was doing flips as she followed the taller man, considering her options here. She could lightly reject any advances he tried to make in his state of unknowing inebriation, admit she may have slipped something in his coffee, or even straight up lie and say there was weed in the cupcakes... But, instead of doing anything, she resigned herself to the fact the next words out of his mouth weren't going to be genuine.

"I wanted to thank you." Thomas began as they'd gotten out into a quieter hall with little to no movement. "For always trying to brighten things up a little here at the studio. Drew's been a right pain in the ass, and it really sets off a chain... But here you are, getting up bright and early to bake cupcakes and brew everyone a cup of coffee, being the most genuine and selfless person at this damn madhouse..."

The guilt was excruciating, and Allison felt herself blush slightly as her eyes began to sting. He likely thought it was humility on her part.

"Hey, no need for that. Just stating the facts Miss Pendle..." He smiled, really smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Thomas Connor had this shy little smile that started at the corner of his mouth and just barely exposed his front teeth a bit. "I was wondering... If maybe I could pay you back. With uh... With lunch?"

"I..."

"I understand if you're busy, it's just... I'd just like to be able to repay your kindness in kind. Lunch for an impromptu breakfast seems fair... And it's well within our schedules I hope..." He added. She couldn't bring herself to decline even if she knew she should.

"It... It sounds good to me. Uh... Wednesday?" She shyly suggested.

"Wednesday." He nodded in agreement. "Best we both go back to work now, before Lawrence has a fit..."

"Yeah... Thank you Thomas." She smiled sadly, watching him as he nodded her way. Her smile vanished once she noticed him bring a mug up to his lips. A white mug with paw prints on it.

Once he took a sip from his coffee he went on his way, leaving Allison in a confused state. On one hand, her crush had genuinely just asked her out and that was amazing! On the other... Who's coffee mug was it that she had drugged then?

-

Henry groaned as he hung up his phone for the 20th time that day. Whoever the hell was calling his landline only to breathe heavily into the speaker as he questioned them, was really starting to aggravate him.

Damn kids and their stupid pranking antics... He had half a mind to call the cops!

[percyscourt]

Imagine Travis Stoll from Percy Jackson in Ferris Bueller's Day Off

travis stoll is a nyc high school senior. known and well-liked by everybody- except his principal and older sister- travis is funny, mischevious, and has a way of always getting what he wants.

it's towards the end of the year when travis decides to take one of his many "skip" days in order to skip a history test he has to do. the only problem? he's already used up all nine of his abscences for the year. this isn't going to stop him, though

when travis' parents comes to wake him up in the morning, he's already been up for an hour planning. the plan- to claim he's sick and get them to let him stay home. travis knows he can't just claim he was sick though, no, he has to prove it. using his top three tricks.

1. Fake A Stomach Cramp

2. Moan and Wail

3. Lick Palms

this morning, he used all three, with an added "I'm seeing spots" for good measure. just as he knew it would, his plan works. both his mom and dad agree to let him take a sick day, telling him to call them at work if anything comes up

as soon as they leave, travis throws his covers off himself and gets out of bed, getting ready for the day

meanwhile, his sister Annabeth is at school, and suspects knows that travis is faking. she's not the only one. besides Annabeth, the dean, Pr. D, also suspects travis of skipping school, and he commits to catching him himself

while his sister and principal both stress over how to catch him, travis gets to work perfecting his plan. after getting out of bed, he sets up a mannequin stunt-double in the bed to look as if he's there sleeping. and for icing on the cake, he plays a recording of himself snoring to make it more legitimate.

after this, it's time for travis to make some calls. the first one goes to luke, his best friend, who is currently at home and actually sick. luke answers, sounding like death, but travis doesn't really care. "We're going out today. See you soon." luke argues, of course, but travis knows he'll eventually give in

travis walks to luke's house and they make a call to the school- as the dad of Katie Gardner, Travis' girlfriend. despite his protests, luke ends up as the one making the phonecall.

"Well, I can't do it, Luke! You know you have the best adult voice!"

he tells the school to please excuse "his daughter" as there has been a death in the family, and they need to prepare for the funeral and mourn as a family

the dean, thinking it's travis, starts yelling and threatening luke to "expose" him- until travis calls him from the other line to let him know that he's sick, and that he really wishes he could be at school. embarassed, the dean immediately sends for katie to leave school early, no other questions asked

"I'll even walk her out, myself, sir, sorry again sir, I-" luke hangs up in the middle of the explanation, hands shaking and already regretting everything. travis, on the other hand, is just getting started for the day

while katie is getting her stuff together to leave, everybody is talking about travis and his "near-death" illness. a couple kids start gofundme pages, and several sell cookies and bracelets to raise awareness. annabeth hates it, and it takes all her power to not kill the freshmen girls that ask to come over after school to see him

the next step of travis' plan is convincing luke to take out his dad's car to go pick-up katie; as travis doesn't have a car of his own. mr. castellan's car is a vintage 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California that he personally restored to mint condition. luke has a mini-panic attack before again giving in to travis, and even agrees to let travis drive

before they leave, travis visits mr. castellan's closet for some inspiration. he grabs a top hat, sunglasses, and a buisness coat. he also pulls out a fake mustache from his pocket, and luke doesn't even bother to aks. in just the ten minute drive to he school, travis runs five red lights, luke almost pukes, travis almost hits somebody, and the car almost runs into a tree. somwhow, they both make it to the school in one piece

when they pull up, just as he said, the dean is waiting with katie, one hand on her shoulder in what travis assumes is an attempt at comfort. travis pushes luke's head down in the front seat and gets out of the car and stands in front of the driver's seat. when the dean starts walking towards him, travis shoos him away, saying they really need to get going. the dean stays at the door while katie runs to the car, and the whole time he's apologizing for his behavior over the phone.

travis dismisses him, and when katie gets to travis, he pulls her in for a long kiss. the dean looks on perplexed, then chalks it up to a simple "oh, they're that kind of family." travis and katie get in the car, and travis speeds off.

while the dean was outside, annabeth was in the hallway, watching the whole thing. annoyed, she decides that when she gets home she'll bust travis before he can get away with it

though luke begs travis not to, travis takes them and mr. castellan's car to downtown NY, blaring loud music and speeding the whole time. when they get to the city, travis decides they need to ditch the car and he leaves it with parking garage attendants. of course, as soon as they leave, the attendants decide to take the car for a joyride

after leaving the garage, travis leads them on a sight-seeing walk around downtown, looking at sights such as places in SoHo, the Hudson River Park, and even the one world observatory. the whole time the kids are trying not to run into Mr. Stoll, who's working downtown

the whole time, luke is obviously uninterested and nervous. travis looks for a way to cheer him up, then finds it. while luke and katie are watching fish swim in the river, travis disappears. just as they start to look for him, they find him. on a float. in the parade.

"TRAVIS! GET DOWN FROM THERE! YOUR DAD COULD SEE! THE DEAN COULD SEE, FOR PETE'S SAKE!" both luke and katie run alongside the float and try to get travis off. travis, in response, of course, performs a lip-sync cover of the Beatles' Twist and Shout.

mr. stoll hears the song from his office and even starts dancing along, though he doesn't see his son

while travis continues his performance, the dean goes to his house to investigate the credibility of travis' sick day. at the same time, a frustrated annabeth skips class to come home early and catch travis. when annabeth gets home, Pr. D has successfully broken into her house. not realizing who it is, Annabeth knocks him out with kick then runs upstairs, scared of retaliation. she tries to phone 911 in her room but the phone operator thinks she's prank calling her, and hangs up the phone

when the dean wakes up, he walks outside and sees that his car has been towed. he runs after the tow truck, and annabeth walks downstairs to find his wallet on the kitchen floor. recognizing him, she takes it and puts it in her pocket.

despite hanging up, the operator did send police to the house- to arrest annabeth for a false report. they arrest her and take her to the station, forcing her to call her mom for bail. when Mrs. Stoll gets there, she sees Annabeth kissing a delinquent named Percy, and she grounds Annabeth immediately, though annabeth is at the point past caring

looking again to travis, he's now done with his performance and tells katie and luke they should go to lunch. instead of going to their usual diner, travis picks a fancy restaurant where you can only get in by reservation. when they get to the front, travis uses his persuasion skills and gets a table, by saying he had reserved it as a "Hermes", a very famous buisnessman in NY. when they sit down, the friends notice that travis' dad is right outside, and they carefully evade him as they leave the restaurant

much to luke's liking, travis tells them they're done downtown and they go back to the garage to pick up the car. on the way home, they realize that hundreds of miles have been added to the odometer, and luke starts freaking out

after getting back to the castellan house, travis works on calming luke down, and comes up with a plan to run the car in reverse in place in luke's garage to reverse the odometer. when they realize this isn't working, luke goes crazy. ranting about his abusive, unloving father, luke starts kicking the front of the car. because of this, the cars becomes unstable on its stand, and when luke stops to rest on it, it rolls back into the garage's glass windows and lands in the ditch below

luke stares at the car for maybe five straight minutes before starting to laugh, unnerving travis. while he laughs, travis offers to take the blame, but luke tells him he'll own up to his actions and maybe finally stand up to his dad after taking the consequences

travis leaves luke and runs katie home. travis himself sprints home, cutting through the street to reach his house faster. he's runnin full speed when he's almost hit by a car- a car with his mom and sister inside. while his mom doesn't recognize him, annabeth does, and hits the gas pedal for her mom in order to beat travis home

when travis gets home, not only is the dean there but annabeth is also waiting for him. despite her attempts to catch him, annabeth wraps an arm around travis and starts scolding him- from walking home from the hospital when he was in such bad shape

when the dean starts protesting, annabeth hands him his wallet from earlier and thanks him for driving travis home

before his parents check on him, travis races to his room, and is comfortably in bed when they come to see him

AND FINALLY, TRAVIS LOOKING INTO THE DISTANCE LIKE JIM FROM THE OFFICE AND UTTERING THE WORDS

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

[fletcherr]

hi ! i’m maren and i’m bad at intros ! and bios ! and things in general ! ... why am i here again ? uhm. anyway ! this is fletcher and uh ... he hates it here askdjfs like i can’t lie i’m so sorry but for the time being it’s ... lowkey the truth ? i’m writing this part of the post first so fingers crossed i manage to keep this short and to the point. if there’s no tldr it’s because this was supposed to be it. ( spoiler ; i failed. it’s so fucking long you literally do not have to read it i am so sorry. ) i’m super excited to be here and cannot wait to get to know you and your muses and be a part of this amazing group !!

THE APP !

˖ °╰ ⌜ [ MUSE TEN, ROBERT PATTINSON, 31, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ] hey, have you seen FLETCHER DUNCAN ? last time i saw them i think they were hanging around THE ROOFTOP. they can kind of be VEHEMENT but can also be pretty HAUGHTY. they’re often caught listening to SUPERSTAR SH*T - DOMINIC FIKE ! they also tend to remind me of cheap cigarettes put out in still half full glasses of rare bourbon, flipping off paparazzi, showing up to important meetings bleary-eyed and twenty minutes late, wearing sunglasses inside and black hoodies on the hottest day of summer, feeling uninspired for months then writing three albums worth of songs in two weeks ! let me know if you’ve seen them around, they’ve been working at the championship around FOUR MONTHS and they’re late for their shift !

THE BASICS !

full name: fletcher ralph duncan ( born fletcher ralph irvine )

nicknames: prefers fletcher, but is okay with fletch or duncan

date of birth: november 18th, 1989

gender: cis male

pronouns: he / him

height: 6′1

tattoos: some stupid ones without any deeper meaning to them on his arms and thighs, for sure

THE ( VERY ) IN - DEPTH ! tw for mentions of abuse of drugs and alcohol, terminal illness, hospitals, and death

after years of marriage, fletcher’s parents had him when they were both about to enter their forties, as one last, final attempt to find back to the love they’d had for each other when they started dating way back in high school. it didn’t work. his father left  when fletcher was four; leaving divorce papers on the kitchen table two weeks before christmas. him and his mother, winnie, moved from one of the suburbs to a smaller, more affordable apartment in brooklyn. they were never quite comfortable, money-wise, but they didn’t struggle either. two years after the move, his mother started seeing a guy she’d been introduced to through friends from work. fletcher adored richard from the first time they met, and as the years went by he came to consider him more of a dad than he ever did the one who left. that’s probably why he didn’t mourn when his father passed suddenly and unexpectedly the summer he turned ten. the following summer, winnie and richard married, and both her and fletcher completely rid themselves of the man who walked out on them when they both changed their last name from his to richard’s - duncan.

when richard moved in, he’d brought an electric guitar and a sparse record collection with him. these were fletcher’s first real introduction to music. he dove in head first. there’s no telling how many evenings they sat in the living room, records playing, or fletcher practicing on the guitar until he was caught up with his dad’s guitar skills. turns out, he was actually a bit of a natural. after he’d mastered his first instrument, he moved onto another. his mother - who’d been a classically trained, lifetimes ago - taught him to the best of her ability on a keyboard they got from a yard sale. he spent hours at a time in record stores. championship vinyl had always been richard’s favorite, and it wasn’t long until it was his favorite too. consuming music wasn’t enough, though. by the time he was in high school, fletcher was writing his own songs; creating his own music. of course - none of it was ever remotely up to par with the songs he kept discovering, but it didn’t matter. him and two kindred spirits he met at school formed a band, performing covers and the stuff he wrote. to afford actual gig gear - not that they ever booked many of those - fletcher applied for a part time job the only place he could think to; championship vinyl. though he'd been a regular for the better part of a decade by that time, he was still in disbelief and awe when he got the job.

fletcher thrived at championship. he took on all the shifts his schedule would allow him, and even skipped class to cover for anyone that asked. even when he was off the clock, he’d hang around. if he wasn’t flicking through new inventory or catching up with the whoever was at work, he’d be sitting on the rooftop with his guitar, a pen and a roll of receipt paper - scratching down song ideas and testing out new material. things were looking up; he was a creatively fulfilled high school senior with a job he loved, parents that supported- and loved him unconditionally, and he’d just been accepted into nyu. therefore, it rocked his world when his dad stopped by during one of his shifts, only to collapse while fletcher had his back turned to find a rare vinyl he’d set aside for him as a surprise. 

the diagnosis was a death sentence. months flew by in the blink of an eye, and he watched the only dad he’d ever truly known wither away before his eyes. weeks shy of a year to the date of the diagnosis, on the day richard duncan passed away, his son brought the old record player and the by now weathered records from the brooklyn apartment to the hospital room. he drew his last breath surrounded by the music and the family he loved.

not recently having gone through the same kind of world crumbling sorrow and the revelation about not wasting away and following your dreams that walks that’s bound to follow, his bandmates weren’t all that keen on the plan fletcher presented them with; movin to la and making it in music. really making it. with one of three members hellbent on leaving, the band broke up. they never could agree on a name, anyway. he turned in his resignation at championship, and jokingly promised james namsen to not come back until he’d won a grammy. winnie, though heartbroken to first lose the love of her life, and now having her son move away, had nothing but support and encouragement to offer when he announced he’d be dropping out of college to pursue music.

the first two years, nothing happened. he was living and working in downtown la; the apartment he shared with four roommates was just shy of being a shoebox, and the franchise record  store he eventually scored a job at lacked the soul and the hum of energy he was used to from championship back in new york. just as ambition and hope was wearing thin, things were starting to look up for him. he was meeting the right people in the right places, at the right times. after opening for a few up and coming acts, he was approached by a manager, who in turn introduced him to a few labels. though he was very aware he wasn’t a strong vocalist, he was confident in himself as a musician and a songwriter, and it seemed so was the internationally renowned label that ended up offering him a contract. his first single dropped not even a year later, soon followed by his debut album.

though his star was slowly rising, the album made only a miniscule splash. he toured it as an opening act and played a handful of shows on each coast. going back into the studio to work on the next album felt different. making the first one hadn’t felt authentic. not the process, nor the result. he’d been too agreeable; too eager to please and too eager to show he was worth everyone’s time and money. this time around, he was more assertive and demanded more control over the creative process. less co-writers were brought in, and he now had a say in which producers he worked with. his sophomore album released to generally positive reviews and ratings, but it seemed that would be it. then, almost over night, his shit was doing numbers. big numbers. 

sure - his label was running some promo for his sophomore album, but it seemed most people were catching wind of his stuff by word of mouth. people were actually buying his albums. both of them. when tickets to his second headline tour went on sale, they sold out in days. dates were added and venues were upgraded to answer the growing demand for tickets as more and more people found his music. he was playing famous venues now; legendary venues. festivals with hundreds of thousands of attendees. all over the country. all over the world. if he didn’t have a microphone or a guitar in his hand, he had a beer. or vodka. maybe whiskey. sometimes a joint, sometimes pills. he was at parties, then he was hosting parties. then he was at parties hosted in his honor. for the first time in his life, he had money. hard, real, fuck you money. he paid off the student loan he’d racked up during his one year stint at nyu, and the mortgage on the apartment he’d grown up in. he bought a house in beverly hills, and a two story apartment in brooklyn - both of which had shelves custom made for the gilded statuettes and trophies declaring him to be the best in a slew of categories. he’d done it. he was twenty-six and on top of the world. invincible. and then his mom's heart gave out.

for the three years that followed, his career suffered as he partied harder. friends he’d known for years disappeared, and were replaced with new faces that all blurred together. there were scandals, but they too were all a blur - leaked pictures and videos; shows he decided last minute he didn’t wanna do; shows he couldn’t do because he showed up too far gone to stand upright. people who got too close to him on one of the bad days, who’s faces he scarred forever. arrests, and settlements made outside of court. the label was getting antsy too, and when it passed the two year mark of the last time he’d set foot in the studio, his team - headed by the same manager that been with him through it all; that’d seen potential and believed in him all those years ago - pleaded with him to get help. begrudgingly, fletcher agreed. after a few months at rehab, he returned - clean, and determined to get back to work. the process was longwinded and intense, but the finished product was, in his eyes, solid gold. and - luckily? surprisingly? - the world at large agreed.

he toured the album with dates booked at relatively smaller venues this time around, but everywhere was packed full to the brim with people. throughout the time working on the album he’d been doing okay; staying sober and surrounding himself with good intentioned people. but being back on the road took a toll on him he hadn’t expected, and it didn’t take long for him to turn to alcohol when it was so easily accessible all around him, at all times. still, things were fine, and he was even relearning to appreciate the electric energy of performing live in front of an audience. to celebrate the last show of the us leg of the tour, the label threw an afterparty for the band, the team, the crew, and their friends. as people were starting to leaving the venue, fletcher sent some members of his band and a couple of their friends ahead with a key to his suite at a hotel nearby, while he thanked the label executives that’d been at the show. when he showed up, a glass was shoved into his hand, and as the party picked back up, someone got out the pills they’d kept at the bottom of their pocket all night. when offered, fletcher - on top of the world once more - accepted. 

someone snitched. and to the media, no less. when confronted by his team, he denied it. after being open about his struggle to overcome addiction, something like this would be damning for the reputation he’d rebuilt over the last two years. which is why he lied through his teeth. but then the videos from the suite appeared online, and his ruse was up. the rest of the tour was cancelled, and after completing a thirty day program, he was back in brooklyn.

it took some convincing, but he eventually went along with the ‘find back to your roots by returning to where it all started’ plan his team had cooked up. he also agreed to let someone else run his social media accounts for the time being. how his manager had gotten him a job at championship, fletcher didn’t know. he suspected a monthly bribe the size of his paycheck and then some was involved. but then again, he’d never known james namsen to be that kind of guy. for the first few weeks, he showed up for his shifts - sometimes on time, sometimes not - kept his head down, tried to engage with as few customers and co-workers as possible, then ditched as soon as he was off the clock. but there’d always been something special about the record store on the corner of bedford and sterling. soon enough, he began occasionally going up to the rooftop once his shift was over. approaching customers to offer his service before they approached him. show up early to catch up with whoever was working the shift before him. if he was having a particularly good day, he’d stop by to hang around even if he wasn’t on the schedule. he was well aware he wasn’t always easy to be around - years of living the high life and putting up walls having made him cynical, and standoffish, and discourteous. even if the boy he’d been when he walked out of there years ago was long gone, championship vinyl had stayed the same. and though fletcher’s yet to admit it, being back felt like being home. 

[ninthfeather]

because your smile still remains

Also on AO3!

A/N: This fic is a commission for FabHawk, who wanted Haruka interacting with his father post-Summertime Record. Please note that I play pretty fast and loose with canon, which is to say that everything except the songs is basically “guidelines” to me, but this takes place in a timeline that’s basically “the music timeline except everyone lives at the end like in the anime because I like Ayano.” Haruka’s dad doesn’t have a canon name, so I gave him one for convenience.

Title is from Will Stetson’s English translyrics for “Remind Blue.” Thanks to FabHawk for beta-ing her own goshdarn commission because that’s just how awesome she is. 

Warnings in the end note!

because your smile still remains

Loving a terminally ill person was a balance of hope and realism. Hiroshi learned that with his wife and relearning it with his child was like having his heart ripped out all over again. At first, it was easy to believe that his child might beat the odds, might survive what his mother didn’t, but eventually, Hiroshi had to be realistic.

So, while he kept pressuring the doctor for more treatments and looked for other doctors with new ideas…he’d also had Haruka write up a will. Haruka had, of course, smiled through the whole thing, even while Hiroshi tried not to cry in front of a stranger.

He’d trusted Haruka with information about his own health all those years ago because he thought knowing might…help. He sometimes wondered if that was a mistake. It was so easy to overthink and second-guess, when your time with a person you loved was running out.

Then, on August 15th, Haruka went missing, and suddenly, everything turned inside out.

When your child was missing, Hiroshi learned, you never knew for sure if they were dead or alive. You always had an image of them out there, somewhere, unchanged from the last time you saw them, living a life without you. You also had an image of them dead by a roadside somewhere. You never knew which image was correct, and it kept you up at night.

Hiroshi knew that Haruka couldn’t have lasted more than a week without his medications. Some part of him still screamed that his child might be out there, somewhere, waiting for his dad to rescue him.

In the end, he waited a month to hold a funeral, but he did hold it. It was a small affair, mostly family and a few people from the hospital. None of Haruka’s friends came—one had gone missing along with him, and another had killed herself on the same day. The last one still alive had shut himself up in his house and was refusing calls. According to his sister, he wouldn’t even open the boxes of light novels and manga that Haruka had willed to him.

On one level, Hiroshi understood. On another, he was incredibly frustrated. Didn’t his incredible, selfless son deserve this much? One friend, at his funeral?

He tried not to be bitter. He tried to reach out to Kisaragi, but all he got were increasingly embarrassed responses from his younger sister. Eventually, he gave up.

He threw himself into his work, tried to move on, became the kind of distant, weird researcher Aoi and Haruka often accused him of being. He wrecked a good half of his friendships and didn’t talk to his co-workers outside of job-related matters for months. But he’d done this before, when Aoi died, and his oldest friends knew what was coming. They waited him out and were there for him when he finally broke.

After two years passed, he could honestly say that he was…not okay. Okay wasn’t the right word. He’d lost a spouse and a son and that was more than one person should have to bear in a lifetime. But he was moving forward again.

And then the world turned inside out on him once again.

It was two weeks after the anniversary of Haruka’s disappearance. This year was better than last—instead of spending the day working, he’d gone for a grave visit with old Mrs. Enomoto. They’d thought about inviting Dr. Tateyama, too, but Hiroshi was still a little angry that he hadn’t come to Haruka’s funeral, and anyhow Mrs. Enomoto’s calls to him never went through properly.

By now, the grief was more like an ache than an open wound. He could look at the reminders of how his home used to belong to three people instead of one and think “This place is really too big for me,” instead of just starting to cry.

He still wasn’t that much of a social butterfly, though, so he was surprised to hear d a knock on the door around 6:30 pm.

He always had regretted not having a peephole in the door. He’d wanted to install one, once, but both Aoi and Haruka had told him he wasn’t good enough at DIY, and he’d never bothered having a workman over to put one in. So, in the end, he had to open the door and hope that whoever was knocking wasn’t a murderer or a door-to-door salesperson.

It…was not.

Hiroshi blinked. Then tried, again, to make sense of what he was seeing.

There were two teenagers in the doorway, one seated in a hospital-issue wheelchair and one standing behind him. The one who was standing looked somewhat familiar, although Hiroshi couldn’t quite place him. But the one sitting in the wheelchair…

His hair was grey, and there was an odd pattern on his face that looked almost like a tattoo. He was thinner than Hiroshi remembered. But in every other way possible, this person looked exactly like Haruka.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, and it was Haruka’s voice, too.

Hiroshi didn’t understand.

This couldn’t be real. He’d had dreams like this, of course, but there was no way...even if Haruka had been kidnapped, even if the kidnappers had meant to keep him alive….

The doctors had given Haruka  a year to live a little under two years ago. 

“I don’t understand,” he said aloud. 

His voice was probably shaking. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yeah, join the club,” said the other teenager. Thin, dark-eyed, wearing a bright red jersey--it took Hiroshi a while to place him.

“Kisaragi?” he managed.

“Yeah,” Kisaragi said. “And this really is Haruka. Things have gotten...weird. Can we come in?”

Too stunned to do otherwise, Hiroshi stepped aside and motioned for them to come in.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Haruka asked, all innocent curiosity.

“We had a funeral, moron,” Kisaragi said. “And you were...sick.”

“Oh, yeah,” Haruka said. “I...kind of remember? It’s blurry.”

“That’s fine,” Kisaragi said. “You don’t have to remember everything.”

“You...what?” Hiroshi asked, shutting the door behind them as he scrambled to keep up.

Kisaragi slipped off his shoes at the genkan. “Haruka’s memory is a mess,” he said.

Haruka himself was also wearing shoes, which he took off and passed to Kisaragi. “Yeah, uh, it’s a long story.”

“What happened?” Hiroshi asked.

Kisaragi gave him a careful look. “Why don’t we sit down for this?”

They settled in the living room—Haruka still in his wheelchair, wedged awkwardly next to Kisaragi on the recliner, as Hiroshi took the couch.

“So, uh, how well did you know Tateyama Kenjirou?” Kisaragi asked.

“He never returned our calls,” Hiroshi said. “I don’t think I’ve seen him since, uh—” He blinked, realizing. “Haruka, Dr. Tateyama’s daughter—”

“She’s fine, too,” Kisaragi interrupted. “He faked her suicide.”

“He—what?”

“And kidnapped me,” Haruka added. “And Takane.”

Hiroshi was on his feet before he realized it. “No, seriously, what?”

Haruka blinked at him, wide-eyed.

“All this time—two years—you were right here—” Hiroshi probably sounded hysterical. He didn’t care.

Haruka held up his hands. “He had us in, uh—Shintarou, what’s the word—”

“Medically induced coma.”

“Yeah, that! He wasn’t hurting us!”

Something in Hiroshi’s chest loosened, even as he heard his voice rise in pitch. “He still let us think you were dead!”

“Yeah,” Haruka said, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hiroshi said. “It wasn’t your fault, so don’t apologize.”

He crossed the room, then leaned down to wrap his arms around his son. To his surprise, Haruka stood, meeting him halfway and squeezing him tightly enough to ache.

After a few seconds, Hiroshi gently lowered him back toward the chair, then released the embrace.

“So, the wheelchair is until you finish up PT from the coma?” he asked.

“Actually, the doctors think I should keep using one,” Haruka said.

“The doctors don’t really know what Dr. Tateyama was doing, but whatever it was, Haruka’s heart is doing better,” Kisaragi put in. “They suggested that he avoid basically any strain and they wanted access to his full medical records, but they sounded a lot more optimistic about his, uh, outlook than they were before.”

“So, Tateyama stole my son for two years and fixed his heart problem?” Hiroshi asked numbly.

“Maybe?” Kisaragi said. “I think they wanted to run more tests.”

“Do you think whatever he did is also what changed your hair color?” Hiroshi asked.

Kisaragi and Haruka exchanged a look. Hiroshi was pretty sure that meant ‘it was actually hair dye but we don’t want Haruka’s dad mad at us.’

“So, do the police have Tateyama in custody?” Hiroshi asked.

“About that!” Haruka said. “He’s, uh—he’s—”

“He’s dead,” Kisaragi said. “He did something stupid, he died, and it wasn’t any of our faults, but we don’t have evidence of that, so we’d really like it if you didn’t get the police involved.”

“Who’s this ‘we’?” Hiroshi asked.

“Me, my sister, Haruka, Takane, Ayano, Ayano’s 12-year-old aunt, her newly-traumatized friend, Ayano’s siblings, and their friend who lives in the woods,” Kisaragi said. “I think that’s everyone. Haruka, is that everyone?”

“I have memory problems; you have a perfect memory,” Haruka said. “Why are you asking me?”

“Mean,” Kisaragi complained.

“Why were all of you involved?” Hiroshi asked.

“There were several more attempted kidnappings,” Kisaragi said. “Some attempted murder thrown in for flavor. It was a fun two days. If I think about them more, I’ll have to have a panic attack in your bathroom and I’d really rather not.”

Hiroshi glanced at Haruka, whose expression was completely serious. Not exaggerating, then.

“Okay, fine,” Hiroshi said. “I, uh, Haruka, your bedroom—”

“I know, you followed the will,” Haruka said. “And I doubt you’ve had time to clean it regularly. It’s fine. It’s been…rough, after everything. I miss you, but I also don’t wanna leave the others alone. So, I’ve been staying with Ayano and Shintarou and Takane at their house, for now.”

“You’re still welcome to come home if you want,” Hiroshi said. “Your room won’t be ready right away, but I can have it cleaned up pretty soon.”

“I’d like that,” Haruka said. “I want to stay over sometimes. But I’m 18, you know! And I have a lot to figure out, now.”

Yes, yes he did. A whole life ahead of him, even, if those doctors were correct in their assessments.

“Still, I’ve missed you,” Hiroshi said. “I want to see as much of you as I can.”

“You can always visit us, too,” Kisaragi said.

Both of them looked at him in surprise.

Kisaragi flushed. “Well, he can,” he said. “I’m sure the others won’t mind, if we ask.”

“Kano probably will,” Haruka said.

“Kano can kiss my—” Kisaragi broke off. “And Ayano can handle him, anyhow.”

Hiroshi smiled. “I’ll take you up on that, I think. But in the meantime, can you stay awhile tonight?”

“Yeah,” Haruka said. “The others won’t expect us back until later.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?” Hiroshi asked, already knowing how his son would answer.

“What does it matter?” Haruka asked. “You know I’m always hungry. What are you making?”

Hiroshi got up to look through the fridge and revelled in the opportunity to cook for his son again. There was still a tiny part of him that thought this might be a dream, and he still had so many questions. But he could savor this, without letting himself doubt or worry, just for now.

A/N: Warnings for discussion of terminal illness, end-of-life preparations, child death, kidnapping, and comas, as well as mentions of suicide and murder. Also, the narrator briefly believes himself to be hallucinating.

Yes, I know there’s some debate about how old Haruka is. In my fics, he’s 18, because I decided he was. Similarly, my characterization of Haruka’s dad does not necessarily cleave perfectly to the LN, because I don’t do well with discussion of terminal illness (yes I realize the irony, I can handle writing it but it’s a pretty hard squick for me in media) so I didn’t reread the relevant LN portions and mostly used the wiki.

For anyone curious, Hiroshi’s name is written (天 ) and means “sky” or “heavens.” I chose it to fit Haruka’s association with sky motifs and to be alliterative with his name.

Finally, yes, Haruka uses a wheelchair, yes, he can stand; ambulatory wheelchair users exist and given Haruka’s canon health situation it’s my headcanon that he can stand and walk short distances.

If you, too, would like to commission a thing, 8 slots have been filled, so there’s still time! The post is here!

Thank you for reading!