#might throw in some restoration cause its always useful

[extervus]

Sorry to Skyrim OC post in 2022 [<- not actually sorry] but I'm starting a new character and this one is gonna be a Skaal-born Nord Werebear hunter (as in, she is a werebear who is also a hunter. She doesn't hunt werebears). Her whole deal is that she's trying to embrace her Skaal roots (she was adopted and raised by a Dunmer and Imperial couple outside of Solstheim after her birth parents died) by becoming a great hunter. And of course she's a werebear so that's another reason she really likes to hunt. She's also gonna be a master at illusion magic because her Dunmer father had her go to magic school when she was young so she uses that to aide and hone her hunting skills. No she doesn't consider it cheating. At some point she's gonna join the Dark Brotherhood because her Imperial father had ties to them so they caught wind of her marksman and illusion skills and reached out to her. Her name is Vibeke :)

[kalimsgirlfriend]

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺

chars; Elizabeth Liones, King, Diane, Arthur

genre; just pure fluff

A/N; just simple hc’s, i might not be too good at capturing their characters though so im sorry if its inaccurate :)

Elizabeth

my sweet girl :(

she’s always been very kind, and you were no exception as, in Elizabeth’s eyes, everyone deserves love.

due to the amount of time she spends at the boar hat, working as a waitress, sometimes it tires her, and on this particular day, she tired herself out a little too much

upon noticing, you decided to swoop in and help her, after all, she’s always been there for you in times where you needed someone so the least you can do is repay the favor, right?

when you managed to sneak off with Elizabeth, you took her outside to get some fresh air, poor girl was working so hard as of late and you felt bad for her.

when you had sat down next to Elizabeth, she quietly thanked you for your gesture and gave you a smile, a sweet and genuine smile—she’s glad to know that there’s someone so attentive to her and you’re glad to have someone like her around, someone so genuine yet determined, it’s caused you to harbor some love for the princess.

soon though, you’re snapped out of your thoughts when Elizabeth, after a few minutes of silence, asks why you took her outside, genuine curiosity laced within her voice. taken aback by the sudden question, you hesitate a bit before answering her question with honesty, telling her that you love and care for her and would rather she get some rest rather than work herself to exhaustion.

though you couldn’t see her face, Elizabeth’s face flushed lightly at the admission of your love and care for her, as her light blue eyes trail towards you and after gaining her composure, she turns her body towards you, taking your hand in hers and in a happy tone of voice, Elizabeth says, "I love you too!"

King

when King returned to the fairy king’s forest, as a fairy you were shocked. he has been gone for so long and now he comes back? and with two guests too, if you remember correctly they’re called "Jericho" and "Ban" and both of them appeared to be humans.

however that shock turned into pity when you saw your fellow fairies throw rocks at him and reject him as their king—you understood why they acted in such a way, he turned his back on you all in a way but you can’t help but feel bad for him, but this is because you used to be one of his close friends, aside from Helbram.

eventually, you found yourself looking around for him, flying around in search of him after he disappeared into the forest after the fairy’s rejected him, and eventually you found him sitting on a branch, helmet over his head and tears seemed to be running down his cheeks but you can’t see his face.

you landed next to King quietly, not making a single sound as you waited for King to remove the helmet on his head and when he did, he flinched and scrambled back a little, wiping his tears away and speaking in a surprised tone, "(name)?!". out of all the people King would’ve expected to see, he didn’t expect to see his old friend.

when you sat next to King, he didn’t know wether he should scoot closer or allow you to sit at your preferred distance. King would awkwardly fiddle with the sleeves of his sweater, before you eventually broke the silence and asked him why he came back.

"…Ban told me that the forest was restored, and i didn’t believe him so i followed him here." King says, admitting the reason he returned. when he returned to the fairy king’s forest, it was burned down, and when Ban told him that the forest was restored, he didn’t believe him so he followed him only to be shocked that it was indeed restored.

"are you mad at me?" King asks after a bit of silence from his end, looking over at you and praying, hoping to whatever God that you aren’t mad at him or holding grudges against him, he wouldn’t be able to handle it if his only other close friend hated him—not after he just lost Helbram.

but much to King’s surprise, you shook your head, showing that you weren’t mad at him. initially you were but eventually came to terms that he had his own reasons for leaving. however when you tell King that you were only worried about him because you love him and wanted him to be safe, which made his cheeks burn a bright red.

King stared down at the grass below before deciding to eventually reply to you—he’s never been verbally told "i love you" by other people before so this is a first for him, with a slight twinge of shyness in his voice, King eventually replies to you with, "…I love you too, and thank you for worrying about me, i’m glad you’re my friend, (name)."

Diane

you never understood why people were afraid of Diane, yes she’s a giantess but she’s a very sweet and cute one, she can be very fierce whenever she wants to be too and it always upset you whenever someone mistreated her, knowing she would never do the same to them.

when Diane had managed to shrink down after receiving pills from Merlin, you spent your time with her picking out human sized outfits for her to change into and try on—and whenever Diane showed you a new outfit she tried on you always hyped her up, knowing how much she had been yearning for the moment she’d be human sized.

you had also taken Diane around Liones, buying food for her to taste and try out, and she seemed to enjoy all of them—sure, it may have been expensive but you forgot all about how much you spent whenever you saw the look of pure joy on Diane’s face. you were glad you could make her experience so great.

when you both were walking back to the boar hat, you both had decided that she’d be spending the night in your room, to have a girls night, something she had never really had been able to do before because she could never fit into your room. you had insisted on carrying all of Diane’s bags for her, you really didn’t mind, it’s the least you can do for her—the giantess who always saved you whenever you needed it.

you did have to clarify with Meliodas thay Diane will not be working that night, though you did promise to make it up to him eventually. when Diane finally stepped foot into your room for the first time, the first thing she did was lay down on your bed, feeling the comfort of the mattress and bed sheets and you followed shortly after, sitting next to her as she laid on the bed.

"thank you for making today such a great day for me, (name)!" Diane said with a smile, looking up at you, purple eyes showing pure happiness at the moment, and you couldn’t help but return her smile, shaking your head and saying she didn’t need to thank you, that you did it because you love and value her as a friend.

hearing the word "love" fall from your lips had stunned Diane for a second before she sat up and hugged you gently, almost as if, despite no longer being the height of a giantess, she still fears she might hurt you if she holds you too tightly. with Diane hugging you gently, she replied to you without hesitation with an "I love you too! you’re the bestest friend ever, (name)!"

Arthur Pendragon

(i love him so much it’s not even funny, nnt Arthur come home </3)

being the friend of a young king meant you couldn’t see him too often, but Arthur would always do his best to make time for you, his best friend. Arthur cares deeply for you, that much shows when he tries his very best to make sure you stay happy and that he does his best visit you when he’s free of his duties.

you know Arthur as a kind boy, and deep down, you feel as though he’ll be a great king one day, you’ve told him this plenty of times before and every single time, his face flushed a bit red and he seemed flustered. it was always funny to see but to be expected, after all—he was only a young boy at the time so naturally he would grow flustered sometimes when praised, especially by you.

one day, when a spring festival had occurred within Camelot, Arthur had asked you to go with him, as he wants to show you the joy that festivals bring people, and you agreed to go with him, not needing a lot of convincing as he’s your best friend. you had expected only to be tasting the food, watching the people mingle but much to your surprise, Arthur had pulled you onto the dance floor and only then do you realize why he told you to get all dressed up and why Merlin had delivered you new dresses—Arthur had been planning to dance with you all along.

Arthur didn’t seem to be nervous, rather he seemed to be a bit confident in himself as he danced with you in his arms, and you wonder, how long has he been planning this? last time you tried to help Arthur learn to dance, well, he wasn’t exactly the best yet now he seems to be better at dancing, he doesn’t step on your toes nor does he stumble, he seems more balanced and capable when it comes to dancing now.

you seemed to notice that, as he danced he was slowly but surely leading you away from the crowds of people before eventually twirling you into his arms, now somewhere less crowded and more quiet, but you can still faintly hear the music being played by the band from afar. you were about to ask Arthur what he was doing before he grabbed your hands, enveloping them with his own, and he looked at you with a smile.

"i haven’t been making enough time for you lately, (name), and since it’s the anniversary of the day we became friends ten years ago, i thought of dancing with you like how we did all those years ago!" Arthur said with his usual cheery tone, not noticing the slight flush rising against your cheeks—you didn’t expect him to do all this just to celebrate the ten years you two have been friends. you felt flattered, to know someone cared enough to remember when you both became friends.

Arthur did feel a little guilty that he didn’t have enough time to spend with you as of late so he chose to make up for it by setting up the festival and having you dance with him, and Arthur’s face became as red as a tomato when you thanked him, told you how much he means to you and how much you loved him for all he’s done for you.

though shaking his head, snapping out of his flustered state, he offered a boyish grin as his hold on your hands tightened a little, but it didn’t feel painful, in fact it felt gentle but Arthur has always been gentle with you. Arthur has always been waiting for those three words to leave your mouth, and after all that waiting, he was rewarded since that day finally came!

"I love you too, (name)! i’ll always cherish you, okay? don’t forget that!" Arthur said, smile softening slightly and warm gaze set on you, promising to always cherish you. he felt tempted to say more, to say he’ll always be there for you, to say he’ll always protect and love you but Arthur felt that he should save that for another time, after all, you two have a festival to get back to!

that’s it! i hope it was good and hope that my fav isn’t obvious :3 if you want more hcs, feel free to request! i’m open to writing for any fandom :D

[suffarustuffaru]

I still need to catch up on re zero but I've seen a bit of spoilers of whatever's going on with Otto but I want know what you think Otto's reaction is going to be when rbd gets revealed like

ooh ty for this ask thats a really interesting question that ive totally not thought about a lot :o HAH but yes anyway. the short answer is that i think that ottos reaction would be Not Good. but it would be kinda good bc ottos strategic mind and undying loyalty to subaru Would be helpful to have.... bc yknow, otto would be a pretty reliable ally who'd KNOW about rbd.... but also NOT GOOD for the exact same reasons (strategic mind and undying loyalty). i just think that otto knowing rbd is gonna cause both him giving subaru some comfort (ie otto going “i know now all youve been through… please confide in me about it”) and A Lot Of Conflict (“haha you should simply stop using rbd so much ahahha”).

anyway!! the longer answer is that i think ottos reaction depends a little bit on if hes finding out rbd alongside other people or if hes the ONLY one to figure out rbd at this time. i think the more likely option in canon is that he might figure it out via restoring roswaal's tome hah, but yes i mean either way, otto finds out rbd and his entire fucking world is gonna get flipped on its head just like any one of subarus other loved ones finding out rbd. if ottos finding it out by himself, i dont think that he'd reveal rbd to other people unless he HAS TO, but he'd tell subaru he knows about rbd (if subaru doesnt know at that point) when he feels its necessary. but more on that later.

anyway in terms of ottos general feelings - yeah, like. a lot of them are gonna be all the usual things that you would feel around finding out that your dear friend has had this absolutely horrific time travel ability haaah... like the horror of "oh god how much have you used that", and then "oh god have i hurt and killed you before" and "oh god whats happened in all those failed loops. youve definitely had failed loops right ahah" and "THATS why you know so much shit you shouldnt know and thats why youre so so traumatized by shit i dont know. ohhhhh god" and "have you always had this power?? in the entire time ive known you??? oh FUCK" you know? like otto especially i think is very analytical about things. and hes uh. Anxious. so hes just gonna go aaaaaalll the way down that rabbit hole (................pun intended) of "what the fuck subaru" and "OH NO SUBARU" and like in general connecting all the awful puzzle pieces together of all of subaru's mysterious behaviors suddenly lining up with rbd..... its a HUGE oh shit moment.

and then otto is gonna go RIGHT into gameplan mode. emergency mode. i think hes just gonna put HIS feelings on the backburner (he might have to have a little breakdown first depending on how Bad it goes, but given this is RBD it most definitely hit otto with the force of a dinosaur) and then ottos gonna throw himself right into doing his "duty" as subarus friend. we kinda see this a bit in stuff like gluttony if where otto tells garfiel to get his shit together bc its only them left bc SUBARU KILLED THE REST OF THEIR FRIENDS.... and then otto feels numb seeing garfiel die and then distantly, iirc, thinks of himself as kind of a shit person for not feeling much about garfiel dying in front of him :( but yeah like. ottos good at throwing himself into THINK OF AND EXECUTE A PLAN TO SOLVE THIS EMERGENCY SITUATION NOW, HAVE ANOTHER CRISIS ABOUT IT LATER. esp when its SUBARU on the line here. and its SUBARU whos been lost a million times before otto found out already, which will most definitely be driving him insane 👍 ottos coping mechanisms (….punching walls…. alcohol……. working….. general bits of aggression….) are very like. numbing/lashing out kind of coping mechanisms. Solitary coping mechanisms. and i think he’s gonna prioritize subaru over himself and try to be subarus support and then go to Cope and Seethe in private where subaru cant see him HAHA. or right in subarus face bc otto has a tendency to do that too, depends on how Pushed otto is. either that or, like with garfiels death in gluttony if, otto is numbed by shock at first (….until the full weight of the reveal probably crashes on him at some point).

that and i think ottos gonna be coping anyway by being obsessive about subaru, as one does (ottos really normal) (very normal) (and very mentally well)

it depends on how rbd reveal goes, but the options like i mentioned earlier are probably gonna be

1. otto found out rbd alongside other people -> otto provides emotional and strategic support to subaru + the rest of the camp whenever possible but stays largely in the background until he feels he has to take any Drastic Options

2. otto found out rbd on his own (and subaru doesnt know yet) -> otto stays in the background and intervenes when he feels he Has To -> will likely only tell subaru he knows abt rbd when he thinks its the right time and then try to be subarus pillar of support

yep so!! in general, i think ottos closely gonna observe subaru from now on— i think otto would wanna keep tabs on subaru at All Times and know Basically Everything about what subarus doing now. i know that sounds like. extreme. bc it is HAH but i think itd be in line with what we’ve seen otto be willing to do to save subaru and their other friends (see: wanting louis/spica dead) (see: being perfectly fine with leaving 50 million people to die), and ottos uhhhh slight nonchalance about getting his hands dirty (see: launching bandits off a cliff in self defense) (see: being nonchalant about the murder mystery in the goddess statue side story) (see: ….his various deranged comments like how its fine if 50 million people die if it means saving rem and subaru) (see: his suicide note in arc 4)

otto knows abt rbd and the effect rbd has on subaru and how subaru WILL use rbd bc hes just THAT fucking crazy but also THAT well intentioned to use rbd like that. this is ottos worse nightmare by the time we get to arc 8– hes upset and scared of subaru especially putting himself in danger bc of good intent and his desire to save people. subaru wants to save the world bc its ALL important to him, otto wants to save ONLY who’s most important to him— ie, ONLY ottos inner circle. so ottos gonna be put into a panic. hes gonna double down trying to control subaru so subaru stops sacrificing himself bc haha who cares about all those other people??? i know you do natsuki-san but this is too high of a cost to you, youre TOO IMPORTANT (to me), you cant keep doing this so ill just have to stop you!!

so i think it might just escalate tbh. if otto doesnt know how rbd reveal is activated, hes gonna try real hard to figure that out. if he KNOWS, hes gonna start making up plans as he fucking goes bc i am NOT letting subaru die AGAIN if i can help it. if he finds out about the suicide pill???? time to consider the pros and cons of yanking that shit right out of subarus mouth. some random vollachian civilians just died???? well time to stop subaru from dying bc using rbd is NOT fucking worth it. especially for random ass people. if something bad happens, like garfiel or someone else dying, and subarus about to rbd? oh fuck, guess i gotta consider if i should let subaru die or force him to live against his will. and let garfiel die potentially forever. oh god if i let subaru die will he be dead in this world or will time just completely overwrite what just happened and i wont know?? OH GOD—

bc you know. assuming otto might be the one person knowing rbd in this hypothetical scenario… (or in general just me using otto as an example here—) once otto knowing about rbd gets cemented past a save point subaru has—the next time subaru dies, will otto be left behind in that world with a dead subaru?? or will the new timeline override the old?? its of course the same question asked in like the arc 4 second trial that subaru has but NOW its from a whole new perspective. otto could potentially be left behind in a failed timeline knowing subarus dead in his world but—is subaru DEAD dead?? or did subaru really go into a new timeline??? itd break otto. i dont think he could LIVE without subaru.

anyway yeah i dont think ottos gonna cope well under these circumstances either way hah but for the sake of everyone else otto would hold his shit together until it gets too much. and i think hes gonna rethink about how hes been willing to DIE for subaru in the past—hes gonna think about how many times hes died for subaru before, hes gonna think about how actually he wouldnt mind dying for subaru but he cant tell subaru that or subaru will be upset, and hes gonna think about how even if he dies for subaru now, is it still worth it when subaru will just do anything he can to reset and undo ottos death??? its a WHOLE mindfuck.

and i think if otto was in the situation of “should i tell anyone else about rbd”, he would choose no in almost all cases. its a lose lose if he does—he upsets subaru and he upsets whoever he tells. its a mindfuck to otto already and the dude can At Least compartmentalize. he knows sharing that secret is a hard thing to do, knows that its hard on subaru. at most i think otto might consider beatrice bc shes close to subaru but also like. hundreds of years old so she of course could carry that burden? and dont get me wrong emilia and garfiel are Very strong in their own right but its gonna hit them HARD hard (i think i talked about emilias reaction to rbd in another ask somewhere hah).

and also otto being the freak he is would want to have all the info he can weaponize to help subaru at. any cost. so also in a strategic sense he cant tell people. both bc revealing rbd publicly both upsets subaru and it would risk subarus mental/physical safety… and also bc otto being the one person who knows is like. I ALONE can make sure my plans go smoothly and no ones stopping me. subaru wont even know unless i HAVE to tell him. and ofc otto cant account for if subaru suddenly knows what ottos trying to do (prioritize subaru over literally everyone) but otto would try his hardest.

anyway!! i do think on another level like if otto knows and subaru knows otto knows i think otto WOULD be a good ally. like ottos smart and resourceful and all that— he can be the second strategist backing up subarus own strategy and power (prior knowledge bc rbd). otto can also support subaru the best he can emotionally about rbd— you know, like comfort subaru, tell him hes done his best throughout all these loops, etc etc. and ottos good at prioritizing too. hes cutthroat with it sometimes but he WOULD be good at like going “hey only one person died in this entire battle of hundreds of people, you cant use rbd its not worth it here. im sorry” or something. otto would basically be like echidna in greed if but better yes T^T

but like. i REALLY dont think otto is just gonna take subaru rbding lying down, it goes against everything otto stands for both morally and as subarus friend. but at the same time otto knowing rbd knows he cant exactly control subaru as much as he wants on that front. otto could try anything and subaru might already know everything ottos gonna try already bc subarus rbded before. subarus lived through this before. and theres a special kind of horror in that too of knowing your friend will have these spurts of suddenly knowing Everything youll do, knowing Everything you intended to do and you just know its bc your friend died and went back in time to do all of this now. absolutely horrific this would do a number on ottos psyche (and of course it already did many many numbers on subarus psyche hahaha…)

so in the end like—otto can be as stubborn as he wants and subaru can be as stubborn as he wants but if they decide to fight each other in this hypothetical scenario theyre gonna end up eternally being thorns in each others sides until it kills one or both of them at least once. but subarus gonna win out in the end bc of rbd, itd be up to otto to find a way to at least change subarus mind just a bit and restrict his rbd use some more. thats. uh. the most otto can do :(( be the support………………

yeah and if ottos finding rbd out alongside other people i think that all of the above that i just said would happen but more subtly. like otto would give his support to subaru and his friends (who’re also reeling from this info :,) ) and then in private otto i think would be like PLOTTING. how can i stop subaru from using rbd. how can i save subaru more. what actions do i need to take. how drastic do i need to be. IM the one who can get my hands dirty here in a way that subaru cant. etc etc :,)))) otto, you sneaky guy……

anyway ive considered making a “otto finds out rbd” fic before but never had specific plot beats so :<<<<< yeah like i said in this entire ask i have my Various Guesses on how otto would react to rbd!!

[ideas-on-paper]

Monster Hunter Tri Diary, Part 2: Day cycles & Nighttime hunt in the Moga Woods

For previous entries, search for #monster hunter tri diary

Disclaimer: Text is paraphrased from my localization and might slightly deviate from the English version.

Moga Village (night)

Yay, we have day cycles! This is actually a feature that got scrapped in MH3U; while there were day and night versions of each map (probably a leftover from this mechanic), it was always day in Moga Village. In Tri, however, time advances in the village too, and you actually get to explore Moga at nighttime! (I believe the only previous time they tried something like this was in MH Dos, with the seasonal cycles.)

And look, fireflies! Or are those Thunder Bugs? (Given that this is Monster Hunter, probably Thunder Bugs.)

Also, there is a nighttime version of the village theme! I've never heard it before, due to there being no day/night cycle in 3U. It's a tad softer and more tranquil than the daytime version - I like it!

Chief's Son: "To restore the base camp, we need to dig new latrines, rebuilt the tent, cover the old latrines, delouse the bed..." Sounds like a really pleasant job. Might be easier to just throw the lousy bed into the trash and get a new one, though.

Okay, so the Chief’s Son tells me I have to report to him what I hunted in the forest, since he’s responsible for keeping tabs on that. Makes sense, since you kinda need to keep an eye on the monster population to prevent an imbalance in the ecosystem if you want to ensure a sustainable economy.

Actually, this reminds me... I remember there's an in-lore explanation that the Guild keeps records of the monster population in each area, to prevent certain species from going extinct and others from growing too large in number. (I think the only time they integrated this into the gameplay was in MH Dos; there was some kind of "bounty system", and the more often you hunted a certain monster, the less money you'd get for it.) So, are the reports I give to the Chief's Son sent to the Guild as well? (I suppose that would be like constant surveillance; but maybe, that's the exact intention behind it.)

At first, I thought the Jumbo Pearl might be a reference to MH Dos (since the village from that game is called Jumbo). However, after checking the Japanese item name, the kanji indicates that it's just an extraordinarily large pearl, rather than a pearl found near/associated with Jumbo Village. (Pity, though; that would've been so cool.)

Chief's Son: "Go report to my dad, will you? He LOVES reports." Okay - well, at least that shows he's taking his job seriously.

Chief: "There are no hopeless causes... Just lost confidence!" That's actually a damn good motivational quote right there.

Gossipy Lady: "It's obvious whenever the Chief is in a pensive mood. He stands at the left pier and gazes out at the sea." I wonder if there's a story behind this habit...

Guild Sweetheart: "The good news is that the Guild apparently has completely forgotten about us. So, you're not missing out on anything!" Well, I guess that's the bright side of it... xD Still, a bit odd if you consider the Guild is technically responsible for protecting the village - all they do is send one rookie hunter here and that’s it. They don’t even bother helping the villagers repairing the damage in any other way.

Outfitter: ""No weapon is perfect. Every one has its strengths and weaknesses." Maybe grandpa was right after all..." Well... A fault confessed is half redressed, or so they say. xD

The shy kid tells us about a goblin with a mask living in the Moga Woods (his older brother also says he's "constantly talking nonsense about an elf"). If my memory serves correctly, that has to be Cha-Cha.

Blacksmith: "I'm gonna to tell you - but just this once!" Except when you cycle through the dialogue by repeatedly talking to him, you can select "yes" again. xD

The Bowguns are completely different in Tri. Instead of the usual two classes (Light and Heavy Bowgun), you have to assemble your Bowgun out of individual parts (stock, frame, barrel), each influencing the stat values and overall performance. I guess this was done in an attempt to make the Bowguns more customizable, so you can have a sort of in-between as opposed to just light/heavy. I'm not a Gunner myself, but I think the idea is kinda cool; ultimately, they didn't stick with it, though.

Btw, there are some weapons that are completely missing from Tri: Dual Blades, Hunting Horn, Gunlance and Bow are all unavailable in this game (despite being available in Freedom Unite).

Also, the Switch Axe and the Long Sword are not available from the start; you have to unlock them later on (you have to do the 3-star Urgent Quest to hunt a Gobul to get access to Long Swords). I was a bit confused when I saw that I couldn't make any Long Swords, since I was sure I heard they existed in Tri. However, the selection of Long Swords in this game is very limited: Minus the weapons from online events, there are only seven Long Swords you can make in the game. That's right: seven. A bit of a bummer for me as a Long Sword main, especially since there are not even blades for every element. (There isn't a single Ice Long Sword you can forge offline.)

So, seems like I'll have to get a little creative here - I think I'll make myself a Great Sword when I get the chance, since that's a weapon I'm at least moderately accustomed to. I also might try out a Switch Axe against Gobul, since you already unlock these after the 2-star Urgent Quest. (Can't say I'm looking forward to it, though. xD)

Btw, I don't know if it's just a translation error in my localization, but when explaining weapon sharpness, the smith says orange is sharper than yellow which is sharper than green. Of course, it's the other way around, with yellow being sharper than orange and green being the sharpest. So, this is a small pitfall for anyone who might be new to the game - just wanted to mention it.

"Fuel for the furnace, chemicals for forging... All of that costs money, so you gotta pay something." I think this is the first time I've seen it mentioned that the smithies in MH are using chemicals to make weapons/armor. Guess that makes sense, since a lot of the equipment pieces are composed of both organic and inorganic materials, so it probably wouldn't hold together otherwise.

"My life's goal? To forge a weapon beyond anyone's imagination! I've tried again and again, but failed. One day, I'll succeed - just you wait!" Well, as long as you have a goal and dedication, you can achieve anything. Better luck next time! :-)

I really like the smith in general - such a lively and spry guy. ^^

What the?! How did the smartass kid get into my house? Who let you in? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY SWAMPHOUSE?!?

"Did you know you can skip conversations? That way, you can skip boring conversations with people you don't even want to listen to. Very handy!" I wish this was a feature in real life.

"But some things you'll get to hear only once. And then you'll say: "Oh no! Why did I press the cancel button? Now I can never hear this again! Buhuuuu!" Unironically me every time I want the text to scroll faster and accidentally end up missing dialogue. xD

"Oh, some conversations you can't skip, like important village info and lectures from your mom..." Pity - I'm sure everyone would appreciate the latter. xD

"Do you believe there is life on the moon?" I dunno, kid - I've never read sci-fi literature from the MH universe myself.

"Why don't hunters use their huge airships to fly to the moon? Did no one get this idea before?" Well, maybe they did - I just doubt they got very far. xD

Yay! I can actually give my Poogie a name! (Actually, I think this is the first time in the series you can do this.) Though it's curious that the list includes both male and female names - is Poogie's gender just whatever you want it to be?

The cuddle timing for the Poogie is WAY more lenient than in Freedom Unite (seriously, that was hardcore).

Moga Woods (night)

"Hello, it's me, the Chief's Son! Not Junior! Nobody calls me that!" Yep, definitely daddy issues. (Nice to see the Chief's Son inherited his dad’s telepathic skills, though.)

"Oh, nice attack! Maybe you're not such an inexperienced hunter after all..." Shit, they've caught onto my ruse - they know I'm too good to be a noob! xD

It will never not be funny to me that the "So tasty!" when you make a Well-done Steak is the only voice line they ever bothered to record for the old games. In fact, it was so important that they even recorded it in different languages. xD

I appreciate how there's a brief display of "MAX" at the end of the stamina gauge - that way, you know when you're at max stamina.

Okay, so the monster list also works differently in Tri. Instead of buying the books with the info at the item shop, you have to gather the infos yourself while being out in the field. It feels a bit like a spiritual predecessor to MH World; I guess they did this to add more to the "exploration" feeling. It's a little tricky to do though, so I understand why they got rid of it. (You have to open the monster list in the menu, point the Wiimote at the monster and then add the info to your list via drag-and-drop. I can imagine this is going to be rather difficult with large monsters, since you kinda have to pay attention that you don't die while gathering data. xD)

Honey: "Full of nutrients, but indigestible in this form." What? Last time I checked, honey was a perfectly digestible type of food. What makes MH honey different?

Okay, so I've picked up an item called "Firedouse Berry". It increases fire resistance, apparently. The logical conclusions would be that there are other berries in Tri to counter the other elements (water, thunder, ice). Either way, I've never seen these in any MH before.

I’ve always wondered what the "houses"/windows carved into the cliffs of Area 7 are. I suppose this is what the Head Farmer meant when he was saying that the statue in the cave had something to do with the "forest ruins". Is this where the ancestors of the sea people lived? If so, why are these great buildings in ruins? What brought about their demise?

You see, it's the little things that always kept me fascinated in Monster Hunter. You can find these ancient ruins in all of the old MH games, but it’s never explained who built them. It's like a dark mystery of the past, constantly looming over you - and perhaps, a silent threat that this might happen again.

It's funny how the Jaggi were my literal introduction to Monster Hunter. If I hadn't read an article about there being "raptors" in MH4U - despite the Jaggi looking more dilophosaurs with their frills (which is ironic, since they're the bird wyverns that don't spit poison) - I probably wouldn't have picked it up. xD

After playing Lies of P for so long, I have to get used to MH combat again. Although I adjusted the controls of LoP so it was basically the standard MH controls (because I literally can’t play with anything else xD), the combat itself feels very different. MH’s is a lot more mobile in comparison, involving lots of dodging and repositioning; since there’s no target lock-on (targeting for large monsters only got introduced in MH3U if I remember correctly), you can’t just lock onto your target to circle around them.

Also, I don't think there’s a pause button in Tri? A bit strange since Freedom Unite had one, but I guess you're supposed to use the Wii Home button for this.

There was a young Aptonoth in Area 1, probably the one who fled from Area 3 when I killed its parents (cool that the monsters move to other areas, though!). I briefly contemplated to let it live, but then I told myself "well, it's probably not gonna survive without its parents anyway" and did the mercy kill. (I'm such a cold-blooded murderer, guys. xD)

One thing that never fails to make me laugh is how there are wooden struts sprouting from the ground if you place the BBQ spit on uneven terrain. xD (That BBQ spit is so important, it even gains the magical ability to support itself if need be.)

So, in summary, I killed 15 Jaggi, while also gathering some stuff along the way. I would've needed 30 resource points at minimum, I delivered 90 - so, thrice as much. Well, there's no kill like overkill. xD

Moga Village (day)

As far as I know, 3rd Gen is the first to have its own kinds of fertilizers for mushroom and insect farming spots on the farm (Shroom Germ and Funky Pheromones, respectively).

Dung: "That's right: Monster poop. The odor reveals (too) much about the monster's diet." Must be really pleasant to carry that around in your pockets (or store it in your item box). xD

The item description says you can only sell Pittance Fangs for "pocket change" - that "pocket change" being 180z per piece, which is quite a lot by early game standards. (I've been wondering about the name, though; could it be that monster parts like fangs, teeth etc. are used as currency in some places in the MH universe? Is it custom to give these kinds of fangs to beggars so they can buy themselves something for it?)

Okay, the smith now wants me to bring him some Iron Ore to prove that I’m “worthy” of being his customer - at least he was so kind as to lend me his Mega Pickaxe for it. (Remember, kids? The time when you still had to carry pickaxes and bug nets with you to gather ore and insects?)

Village Chief: "All wyverians are hard to please. And this one is the worst. I know him since my early youth. I got into more brawls with him than the sky has stars!" Sounds like the Chief and the smith were best friends. xD It's charming to see the Chief reminiscing about his youth, though.

Chief: "My son still has a lot to learn... But you have to overcome barriers to grow." That's true - ngl, the Chief does have some pretty deep quotes.

Guild Sweetheart: "Drum roll... The Guild says: absolutely nothing!" Man, they sure are taking their time... Okay, how about this: I'm gonna go out to get some Iron Ore for the smith (and for myself), and you see if you can get through to the Guild in the meantime, alright? Don’t worry, sweetie - I’ll be right back!

To be continued

[fizzingwizard]

Another thing I'm seeing a bit in the fandom atm: Blaming Aziraphale for his decision at the end of episode six, while pitying Crowley for being the only one truly in love. I think that is not a well-rounded conclusion.

The ending of season 2 is foreshadowed in the first episode. Right off the bat, we have Aziraphale helping people, performing miracles when he can. When he meets Crowley in the coffee shop, he makes a little under the breath comment about how he likes to tell Crowley about his achievements since he "no longer reports to heaven." What we can understand from this is: being an angel was important to Aziraphale. Not in the same way as it is to the other angels - he's Aziraphale, he likes his comforts and his pleasures, and he doesn't want to throw it all away for some divine purpose now anymore than he did in the first season.

But he wasn't ready, at the end of the not-apocalypse, to cast off heaven completely. He didn't really have many other options other than to go along with Crowley, and of course, he genuinely likes him and wanted to go along with him. He's living happily that way, but still entertaining hopes that the faith he feels he's losing, or already lost, can be restored. That he can find a middle ground between being an angel and being Aziraphale. He's a little different, IMO, from book Aziraphale in that way... I guess I wouldn't expect book Aziraphale to care so much about heaven. But the TV show is meant to be a little different, so that's easy to accept.

Now Crowley in episode one. He doesn't want anything to do with hell or heaven, because he sees both as trying to take away what he cares about from the very start. What's the point? he asks. Aziraphale is probably wondering the same thing, but for the time being he's still operating under the assumption that there is one - an ineffable one. Crowley's lost faith since a long time ago and in its place he's found self-reliance. He's created his own morality which suit his world view. He doesn't want a middle ground, he doesn't want ground at all.

But however misguided Aziraphale's good deeds can be, it doesn't mean Crowley is always acting out of wisdom. Episode one tellingly has Crowley shouting about how he's carved out a place for himself and isn't willing to lose it, to which Aziraphale replies, "I thought we carved it out for ourselves." In that moment, Crowley might have thought he was thinking about what's best for both of them, but really he was thinking about what's best for Crowley.

The argument in episode one is the first clear indicator that Crowley and Aziraphale aren't in fact on the same page. Throughout the season, Aziraphale acts as if Crowley helping him whenever he meddles in things is proof that Crowley is really on the side of the angels - the side Aziraphale still considers himself on, if in more of a vigilante role than an official one. And Crowley acts as if he's indulging Aziraphale's hobby, but ultimately expects that their joint future, separate and uninterested in heaven or hell, is just as much Aziraphale's dream as it is his own. But Aziraphale's hobby is, in fact, his dream - and Crowley's on his own side, not on the angels', and has never wanted to be. On that note, Aziraphale isn't bad for thinking he could go to heaven, reform it, and use it for good. He might not be able to accomplish it, that's true! But he's not bad for thinking it's possible. And Crowley's not bad either for considering it a lost cause. They're both working with their own experiences and also their own beliefs and personalities.

Aziraphale and Crowley fall apart in episode six because, all season, they've been imputing to each other desires and motivations that they want the other to have. Instead of listening to what each other is saying, they hear only what they want to hear. Because they do love each other and they do want to be together. But a relationship without communication is bound to fail. Nina and Maggie try to teach them that, but the timing is just too late. For now, anyway. Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are bad for wanting different things. Their mistake is thinking they can will the other into doing things their way.

[spearohero]

This is a number about a sheepwoman with blessed fire magic, and about how much of yourself it's safe to give, even for the greater good. I've been kicking the character idea around for a while, and finally got started on something with her; I'll post it broken up into chapters over the next few days. Hope you enjoy :)

Dawnsister, Chapter 1: A Day's Work

CW: blood , violence (i wanted to open this thing cold lol sorry)

The peal of a mace against chitinous carapace was the sound of divine intervention, and it was drowned out just as quickly as it had arrived by the shrieking of the struck fiend. The mace’s wielder–a towering ewe with fleece that glittered even in the dim light between the sundered cellar racks–followed the sound, throwing her head forward and bringing her horns crashing into the beast’s jaw. Its foul blood splattered, staining her blindfold, and she heard it stumble as it recoiled. Her intuition, honed by years of hunting and guided by her attunement to the holy light, bade her not to press her advantage.

Instead, she pivoted on a hoof, and her ear flicked in the wind of a claw that sliced through the space her head had just occupied. Lunging with animal abandon, the beast now flew forward, carried and left unguarded by its own momentum. She held her mace high and bellowed as she brought it down with both arms upon the back of the creature’s neck–a crack as her blow connected, and another as its skull bounced against the stone floor. She brought a hoof down, turning the cracks into a crater, cutting short its wailing and leaving it lifeless beneath her.

She heaved a sigh, allowing herself half a heartbeat’s respite before reaching to the tome strung to her hip by waxen cords. She flicked it open with a practiced motion, though this was more a habit than a necessity: without reading from the book, she recited a verse that engulfed the abomination’s corpse in a crackling, amber-tinted flame. Anointed pages fluttered as the embers spread across the ground, scouring the cellar of any trace of the beast, and ensuring that its remains would not poison another living thing. Bile and blood blew away, venom vanished, and even the marks left by its talons seemed shallower, less ragged, in the wake of the Dawnsister’s cleansing fire. She snapped the book shut as the last of the remains blew away to ash, and turned toward a nervous voice from the top of the stairs.

“Is it done?” the dog woman called down, shoving her pup behind her as he tried to peer around the doorframe, full of anxious curiosity. The ewe nodded over her shoulder and turned to climb and speak to her, the armored pleats of her scapular clanking as her hooves thunked on each step.

“It is. I apologize that I cannot restore your food stock,” she condoled, gesturing at the wreckage below, “nor assist you with the mess.”

“Assist us? Good sister, you have assisted us aplenty! Please, is there anything we can offer you? There is food elsewhere in the house, or perhaps some coin–”

“No,” she stopped her. Accepting a reward treading the righteous path always felt… selfish. What’s more, she could do without. “But thank you.”

“...I see. Well, you’re welcome here if ever you’re in need, or even if you happen to pass by!”

“My good woman,” the ewe intoned, her face turned past the lady of the house, “are you safe here?”

“Why, whatever do you… O-oh, I understand.”

The ewe would have been surprised if she hadn’t understood. The Dawnsisters had gone to great lengths to educate the citizenry of the nature of the devils that had plagued them for so long. While they were once mistaken as the cause of most of mortalkind’s evils–the idea of possession made for strong accusations and alibis alike–observation, born of the Dawnsisters’ vigilance, had shown the opposite to be true.

Creatures of the dark were spawned of (or perhaps simply drawn to; nobody could be sure) the darkness that lived in mortal hearts. Lesser evils begot lesser beasts; a personal betrayal might be repaid by the sadistic pranks of an imp, and those who cast others out as “lesser” or “depraved” for the sake of inflating their own egos often met similar misfortune.

The greater the trespass upon one’s fellow mortal, the greater the abyssal reprisal. Avarice and hunger for power were favorites of demons: guild heads who cheated their laborers and patrons frequently had to contend with supernatural sabotage at even far-flung outposts of their trade, and kingdoms reigned by cruel monarchs were often beset by legions of fiends. Such times of crisis were the driving force behind the formation of the Dawnsisters, and eventually, it was their ranks who drove these evils out at the root. Though they strove to bring light to the world, one could just as rightly call them Kingslayers or Shacklebreakers–and one could just as easily call upon them for a task as simple as providing an impartial third party.

All of this meant that, on occasion, bringing a demon to light meant bringing one’s skeletons from the cupboard. Even a particularly forceful or jealous husband could, given time, draw a devil from the depths.

“Well, nobody living here has done anything base enough to bring that into our home.” Footsteps, small ones–the boy was scurrying off, probably either bored of adult chatter or having had his fill of action for the day. The woman tried to meet the Dawnsister’s eyes, but found only cloth. “We have enough faith in you that, if we needed your aid, we could ask freely. Especially after how easily you handled that–” She checked around her legs to see whether her son was still there. “–That bastard,” she chuckled.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on the affairs of your neighbors, it seems,” the Dawnsister sighed. She trusted that the woman would come to her, or at least to the abbey, if anything else happened to her and her son. 

“Are you certain there’s no way for us to repay you?” The boy’s footsteps returned from down the hall as his mother spoke.

“Fully certain. I have no need for–”

“Momma!”

“Dear, Momma’s talking to the–oh! Oh, go right ahead!” She interrupted herself, pushing her son forward. He stood in front of her for a moment before his mother cleared her throat.

“Oh, um! For you, miss Dawn… Dawnsssister,” he ventured the (apparently new) word. Bless his heart, he didn’t realize she couldn’t see that he was holding something out for her. She hesitated, but couldn’t bring herself to decline such a sweet gesture. Without even knowing what was in the child’s paws, she took it, turning it over and carefully feeling it. She had all night to puzzle out what it was, though, and very little time before the next person in need would call upon her.

“Be safe, friend,” she wished the mother, “and thank you, little one.”

“Blessings, good sister!”

“Buh-bye!”

With that, she led the blindfolded woman to the door. It was dark out. It made little difference to the Dawnsister, but this was far from her first house call of the day, and she was certain it wasn’t to be her last.

See Chapter 2 here!

[hosticaaa]

Anonymous 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉 ; Do you think Dabi will live or die?

Honestly,  anon,  I'm  super  bias  about  it, so I might be totally wrong  but  I  think  (hope)  he  will  live  and  I  think  the  fact  he  hasn't  died  yet  is  a  good  sign. When  I  really  think  about  it  there  is  actually  no  reason  why  Dabi  should  die.  Taking  aside  the  stupid  missing-the-point  moral  posturing,  the  other  "logic"  I've  seen  for  why  he  should  die  has  already  been  invalidated  by  the  canon.  As  a  child  Dabi  was  cremated  to  such an  extent  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  not  only  live  through  it  but  to  actually  have  his  body  reconstructed,  and  yet  thats  what  happened.  Thats  as  far  as  real  world  logic  goes.  But  the  logic  of  MHA  being  set  like  150+  years  in  the  future  and  the  presence  of  supernatural  powers  negates  this. On  top  of  this  we  have  the  heavy  themes  and  tropes  present  in  Dabi's  character  which,  imo,  are  important  to  Dabi  "living"  through  both  of  his  self  immolations.  He  is  based  heavily  on  the  idea  of  the  Revenant  Zombie  and  the Onryo,  which  I  talked  about  in  this  post,  along  with  the  fact  he  parallels  Frankenstein's  Monster. 

So  in  a  way  I  think  its  very  much  suggested  Dabi  is  and  perhaps  always  has  been  some  type  of  pesky  undead.  This  isn't  way  out  with  the  presence  of  the  Nomu,  given  undead  bioweapons  are  exactly  what  the  Nomu  are  so  if  the  MHA  world  can  have  that,  theres  no  reason  it  can't  have  a  functioning  Revenant.  It  kinda  just  makes  Dabi  a  kind  of  proto-nomu.  Garaki  does  say  that  while  he  was  able  to  reconstruct  most  of  Dabi's  body  ( We  can  only  thank  whatever  medical  advancements  humanity  has  made  in  the  last  150  years  for  how/why  he  was  able  to  do  this )  he  ultimately  failed  and  Dabi  was  dead  but  he  somehow  "came  back  to  life"  and  that  it  was  obvious  it  was  Dabi's  burning  grudge  that  brought  him  back  and  has  kept  him  alive.  

So  we  have  that.  Which  means  I  can't  see  why  Dabi  couldn't  live  through  this.  So  far  he  has,  so  far  he's  still  alive.  The  last  time  we  saw  the  Todoroki's  Enji  and  Natuso  were  using  their  bodies  as  shields  to  protect  Dabi  from  further  harm  when  the  Twice  Clone  Army  were  closing  in.  This  suggests  Dabi's  still  alive.  And  if  Dabi's  body  could  be  restored  after  his  first  burning  why  couldn't  it  be  restored  now ? Theres  nothing  saying  it  couldn't  so  overall  theres  nothing  really  saying  Dabi  should  or  has  to  die  and  that  he  can't  come  back  from  his  current  condition. 

My  only  concern  is  that  the  tropes  of the  Revenant  and  the  Onryo  often  see  them  finally  "dying" or "moving on"  to the afterlife once  they've  settled  their  grudge /  did  whatever  they  had  to  do  to  find  peace. Thats  when  the  spirit  finally  moves  on  in  most  portrayals  of  them  in  popular  media.  This  could  be  Dabi's  case  too  but  I  don't  know  that  Hori  intends  to  throw  it  that  way.  I  think  he's  planning  to  invert  the  ending  of  Frankenstein  and  rather  have  the  monster  and  creator  heal  from  the  suffering  they've  inflicted  on  each  other and have neither die in the process  because  I  really  think  its  Hori's  intention  to  "save"  the  LoV .  (  Not  just  Dabi  but  all  of  them  and  current  canon  is  looking  real  good  for  this,  and  NO,  I  don't  believe  Himiko  is  dead  or  going  to  die  either.  The  way  Hori  set  her  story  and her  "redemption"  up  would  turn  her  dying  into  a  really  ugly  cliche  and  so  far  I  have  faith  in  him  to  avert  that  too. )   

Its  a  way  more  compelling  and  satisfying  story  than  "Villains  bad,  they  all  must  die  cause  villains  bad"  cause  thats  really  not  what  the  stories  about.  I  feel  like  if  they  were  going  to  die  we  would  have  obvious  and  explicit  confirmation  that  they're  dead  already  as  was  the  case  with  AFO.  The  stark  difference  in  the  climax  of  AFO's  battle  and  the  way  we  had  his  story  and  motives  shown  to  us,  showing  us  that  he  was  rather  NOT  a  very  sympathetic  character  and  was  more  or  less  born  a  monster,  and  the  way  he  was  finished  is  another  good  sign  that  Hori  doesn't  intend  to  just  kill  off  Dabi,  Himiko,  Tomura  and  I  hope  not  Spinner  either. Surely  if  he  did  it  would  have  happened  already. 

[loominggaia]

razzek I hope dings work out for Jaq (and by extention Yerim-mor heh) but also future Queen or Monarch Jaq where his body is as his father transformed it but she/they live how they want to would also be awesome. My brain is jumping to a few historic figures  who did this. Although it sounds like Jaq might not even relish the thought of ruling, but also like he would do what's best to save his kingdom and continue his father's legacy of putting it back to rights. 

I agree with you, I don't think Jaq is stoked about ruling this kingdom either. At least not at the moment. He sees Yerim-Mor as a sinking ship. All he's trying to do now is grab his loved ones, throw them in a lifeboat, and get them the hell out. But with his father desperately clinging to the past and his brother succumbing to evil, that isn't as easy as it sounds.

Let's say things improved though, and the ship stopped sinking. It would take a lot of work, but let's say saving it was clearly in the cards. I think this ray of hope might inspire Jaq to take the throne on his own volition and do what has to be done. By restoring Yerim-Mor's former glory, he might even start to enjoy his position and finally understand where his dad was coming from for all those years.

Jaq may or may not seek help for his sex incongruity, it's hard to say. He's been male for longer than he's been female at this point, and he fears switching back might be too jarring. He's grown to know and understand this male body over the years, and by changing it so dramatically, he would have to relearn its strengths, weaknesses, quirks, and not to mention the difficulties of the social transition. It would take years for him to adjust.

Jaq strikes me as a "selfless to a fault" type. A "silent sufferer" type. He might hurt inside, but you'd never know it because he never complains. He always puts the needs of others before his own. I feel like he may not transition back to a female because it would require him to pour so much time and energy into his own needs, when he could be using it to benefit others (his brother, his kingdom, his family, etc.)

But hey, maybe someone special will come along one day and convince him that his own needs matter too. If so, Jaq would be happy to transition back to female, live out his dream of having children and finally feel at peace in his own body.

Considering how hard he fights for his brother, we also see that Jaq is definitely no quitter. If he thought Yerim-Mor Kingdom could actually be saved, he would pour his whole heart and soul into the cause, and god help anyone who tries to stand in his way.

That's just my early take on his character though, he still needs more development and I may change some things in the future!

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

[fastenergywater]

The Advantanages of Hiring a Water Damage Restoration Service

When you have water damage in your home, it is important to hire a reputable water damage restoration service. There are many advantages of hiring a restoration company. It will save you time and money in the long run and can protect your home.

One of the biggest advantages of using a water-damage restoration service is that they have the expertise and training needed to repair your property. They can assess and remove all of the water and dry it out, as well as disinfect your property. This can minimize damage and prevent mold growth.

Another benefit is that professionals have the proper tools and equipment to get the job done. If you try to do this yourself, you may not be able to access all of the areas in your home. You could end up causing further structural damage to your home. Even worse, you might throw away items that could have been salvaged.

If you're unsure if your belongings are safe to keep, a restoration professional can help you determine whether or not they can be rescued. A professional can remove contaminated objects, such as clothing and furniture, and restore them. Their services also include cleaning up and sanitizing the entire home or office.

Using a water restoration company can help you get back on your feet in no time. They can assess the damage and create a full-proof plan to fix it. Professionals can also help you navigate the insurance process and provide proof of the damage. These companies are trained to handle all aspects of the restoration process.

Water damage can be very expensive to fix. Many people think that they can fix their own property problems, but it's best to leave the work to professionals. By hiring a reputable water damage restoration service, you can avoid costly mistakes and make sure your home is repaired to its pre-damaged state.

In addition, it's always good to get at least two quotes from different restoration companies. That way, you'll know how much it will cost to fix the problem. Hiring a professional can also increase the amount of your insurance claim.

A restoration service can also eliminate mold and mildew growth. Flooded water can contain harmful bacteria that can lead to serious health problems in the future. Mold can grow on floors and walls and can also affect the air quality of your home. If your property is severely damaged, you might want to consider mold removal.

During the restoration process, it is important to get rid of all of the contaminated water. Professionals can use a vacuum to get rid of all of the water and dry the area out. Drying the surface will eliminate the risk of mold forming.

While you can do some minor repairs yourself, it is important to hire a dependable water damage restoration service to deal with the more extensive damage. With a little bit of training and proper equipment, your home can be restored to its pre-damaged state.

[kevinszabojrplumbing]

How to Get Your Home Back After Dealing With a Flood

Floods are caused by various reasons like bursting pipes, heavy rains, and sewer backup. Whatever the cause, taking care of the damages as soon as it happens is vital. This blog prepares you for things to do when experiencing floods in order to get your home back to normal. Enjoy!

Consider Safety First

Even with the rush to reform your house back to normal, always ensure to put safety first. A lot of things can go wrong in a house with electricity appliances flooded with water. The first step is to switch off all the power outlets in the house. Do this when wearing protective clothes since electricity and water can cause shock. If by any chance some of your foodstuffs got contaminated by the water, ensure to throw them away to avoid poisoning. Practicing safety measures will help you prevent any further damage as you wait for the next move.

Remove the Water From the House

The moment you realize your house is flooding with water, that is the time to find the source. Stopping the source will help you reduce the level of water coming in. Consider checking all your piping systems; if there is any damage that can be fixed, do it or seek the help of a professional. The next step is to remove the water from the house by using various methods such as buckets or hoses, depending on its level. When the water reduces to a small amount, you can use a vacuum to clear the rest. Lastly, mop the house to dry it and ensure to take the damp carpet and furniture outside.

Dry Out the Remaining Parts of the House

After clearing the water in your house, many things, including equipment, will remain wet. The only way to remove the dampness and excess moisture in the house is by drying. Assuming busting pipes caused the flood in the house, you can choose to take out the appliances to dry through the sun-ray. If possible, run a few fans in different areas of the home. Note that you should avoid using direct heat like a hair dryer since it can damage electrical appliances. If the damage is far too much, it is time to reach out to your home insurance or a restoration company.

Contact the Insurance Company

If you have insured your house against floods, this is the perfect time to call them. The insurance company will check your home and the damages caused so they can help you cover the losses. However, you should know that an insurance company might take a long time to come to your rescue. Therefore make sure to do the above steps first to keep safe and reduce the damages. Also, take photos of the flood and after clearing everything so that you can show the company when they arrive. Such will help showcase the damages caused so they can start working on repairs.

Do a General Cleaning

After removing the water and working with the insurance company, it’s time to clean your house and make it comfortable. In this situation, working with professionals like flood damage restoration in Denver will help you restore your house back to normal. You can also choose to do the cleaning all by yourself, but there are things like removing the insulation and dry walls that only experts can do. Doing the general cleaning will prevent stuff like molds from growing in your house since a wet environment causes them.

Do Repairs to the House and Equipment

The aftermath of a flood will definitely lead to much damage to the house. The best way to ensure all the electric equipment is working well is by hiring a professional electrician. Other things might also be affected, like the wall paint, flooring, and the roof. Doing repairs will ensure all appliances work as they used to.

Conclusion

If you have encountered floods in your home and don’t know the next step to take, the above tips will guide you. Also, many organizations help people who have incurred damages through floods, so make sure to check them out. Don’t forget to always do a regular check on your house piping system in order to prevent them from bursting. A safe home is a happy home!

Guest Contributor: Regina Thomas

[asset35-maya]

.When the party’s over.

>REINITIALISING…

>ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE

>WIRELESS CHARGING: 69%

>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: STABLE

>24H FILE RECOVERY: 45%

Nines slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on his side and everything around him was quiet.

>ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN IN PROGRESS…

>THREAT ANALYSIS IN PROGRESS…

Layers of fabric covered his body and something soft and warm was pressed against his face. Eyes still shut, he nudged it gently with his nose and it emitted a low vibration.

>2% THREAT DETECTED: FELINE SUBJECT

The cat sprang upwards and hopped off the surface that Nines was lying on. It was ostensibly a bed, but Nines didn’t own any furniture apart from a couch and work table. The logical conclusion was that he was not in his own apartment.

>RUN LOCALISATION PROGRAM: Y/N?

>Y

>ERROR: PROGRAM FAILED TO EXECUTE

>ERROR: MEMORY FILE CORRUPTION

Nines had no absolutely recollection of his whereabouts or how he had arrived. He had not been compromised as his system health was stable, so there was probably another reason for being completely disoriented. It was voluntary.

He had gotten the android equivalent of blackout drunk.

It was not the first time and he feared it would not be the last. Such were the hard-partying ways of his friends and colleagues. They were all terrible influences. He loved them dearly, but they were terrible.

At 6PM every Friday, Chen and Miller would start things off rather innocently. “Hey there’s a new brewery downtown.” Or “My bartender cousin just hooked us up with a thirty percent discount!”

From there it wouldn’t take long for the DPD’s resident frat boys Connor and Gavin to gather a steady crowd of officers and check out the venue. If the vibes were good (which they almost always were), Sixty would get wind of things. Then the rest of the frat house would descend and total chaos would reign until the break of dawn.

SWAT Unit 32 was famous for its particularly destructive brand of revelry. Skinny dipping in private swimming pools, scaling skyscraper rooftops and causing media scandals were all par for the course. The day after Captain Allen’s birthday, the DPD crew spent the entirety of their bonuses to repair the collapsed ceiling of the Eden Club.

Nines couldn’t remember how he exactly he was coopted into the madness. Probably peer pressure. Connor insisted that he try thirium alcohol. Sixty said that he would regret being a loser and not joining them. Gavin had just held out a hand and double-winked. That did the trick.

One night blended into another and soon Nines had worked up quite a reputation of his own. He was the Casanova of the homicide department. The handsome devil… the hunter… the sex god. People would actually come by his desk and congratulate him on Monday morning.

Nines hated it but he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same thing over and over. Perhaps it was the appreciative clap on the shoulder from Gavin the morning after Sixty posted photos of a high-end Traci model giving Nines his very first lap dance.

Life at the DPD was the epitome of work hard, play hard. It seemed like one big party but deep down Nines knew they were all just slaves to their compulsions. He wondered whether it was because they needed to celebrate every demon they vanquished or whether they needed to wipe the troubling memories of doing so.

In Nines case, there were definitely things he needed to kill within himself. Some were nightmare inducing crime scenes, but some were memories so heart-wrenchingly sweet that he thought he might self-destruct if he were to dwell on them too long. There were things he couldn’t have and things he needed to erase from his brain.

Something touched his face gently.

>PERIPHERAL OBJECT DETECTED: HUMAN HAND

>THREAT ANALYSIS: NON-COMBATIVE

The hair on his forehead was brushed aside and fingers ran over his features. A thumb swept over his bottom lip and caressed his cheek.

Nines couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and come face to face with his most recent conquest. He lay still, frozen with regret as the hand continued to stroke his face.

The hand travelled down his neck and fell upon his chest. Nines caught it abruptly. It wasn’t even the month-end and his savings were badly depleted. He couldn’t afford round two. He retracted the synth skin down to his wrist and prepared the electronic payment credentials.

Fingers merely intertwined with his.

“Just take your money and go. I’ll tip extra if you delete everything from your hard drive.”

“What the phck are you talking about?”

Nines eyes flew open. Steel blue met storm green.

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP OVERLOAD

“Fuck!”

“Wow that’s flattering.”

Nines pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes in a vain attempt to remember what had led to this absolute, unmitigated disaster.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Gavin looked affronted.

“You ruined our housewarming for one.”

>MEMORY ARCHIVE SEARCH: housewarming, Gavin

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “G.REED” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:33 18 JULY 2040: Assholes. Party at our new place. Next Friday. From seven till LATE. Bring booze, bring bitches. Nah. Actually, don’t. Our landlord’s a bastard and we already got three noise complaints.

>RESULT: TEXT MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM “CONMAN” IN GROUPCHAT “CLUBBERCOPS”, 15:34 18 JULY 2040: Yeah we should keep this one PG. Bring food if you wanna eat. This mf can’t cook and I don’t care to. See y’all!!

Oh right. Fuck. Gavin’s housewarming. Gavin and Connor’s housewarming. His two closest friends who were somehow even closer to one another. Nines hadn’t realised until it was far too late and there was nothing for him to do but smother the bitterness with his favourite coping mechanisms: android alcohol and paid sex.

The circumstances definitely explained the state he was in, but things still didn’t add up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did we… did we…”

“No. Nothing happened between us. You were completely shitfaced. I just put you to bed to stop you from embarrassing yourself.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling, struggling to put the pieces together. His system offered him no useful prompts. The fermented thirium had done its job of code corruption extremely well. He looked back down and met the green eyes focused on him with deep concern.

“What did I do?”

“Sixty has videos, but I don’t think you want to see them. God, Nines… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I’m really sorry, Gavin. I didn’t mean to ruin your night… and Connor’s.”

“He’s fine. He and Sixty moved the crew to Hank’s place. Which is what we should have done in the first place… there’s really no point throwing a party in this shoebox and telling people like Tina Chen to be quiet. Honestly if it wasn’t you it would have been her bringing the house down. Good thing they had all of Michigan Drive to tear up. Hank’s neighbours can sleep though a bombing.”

“What did I do?”

Gavin put his hand back on Nines’ face, his expression unintelligible. The human touched him often enough, but never like this. Never so intimately. Nines forced down the twisting sensation in his torso. He couldn’t get his hopes up. This was pity.

Nines braced himself to hear the worst. He prepared for the shredding of all his dignity and the collapse of his falsely extroverted and confident identity.

What came though was a soft press of lips to his forehead.

“It wasn’t pretty and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but I think it was a long time coming… I’ve never seen you so emotional before. I’m sorry I didn’t notice anything all this while.”

“Gavin, please.”

“I’m going to focus on the positives, because really… there were a LOT of negatives. Oh boy. You… uh…”

“Gavin.”

The detective dipped his head and looked away.

“Phck, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed…

You told me you loved me.”

Nines closed his eyes. That was it. He should quit his job and move to another state. Hell, he should go to Cyberlife and request a factory reset on compassionate grounds.

“I’m so sorry. I… I should leave.”

He made to sit up, but was pushed back into the mattress. Gavin curled into his side.

“Nah. You’re good.”

“What?”

“You threw up on my plants and smashed Connor’s RA9 sculpture, buuuut you’re good.”

“I don’t understand.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around Nines and edged closer until the android was forced to turn on his side and reciprocate.

“What do you think, genius? If a guy like me doesn’t throw a guy like you out of the house after all that… what does it mean?”

“That you have a high tolerance for toxic friendships?”

“It means I want you to stick around, dipshit.”

>SYSTEM ALERT: THIRIUM PUMP RATE FLUCTUATIONS. OVERLOAD IMMINENT.

“You mean you like me?”

“Of course I do! I always have, but it never seemed right to bring it up. We’re actually really good friends. I didn’t think it would be possible when we first met but we have so much in common.”

“Bad habits for sure.”

“Come on, Nines. We’ve had a really great time together. Some of my best memories at the DPD are with you. Don’t ever quote me on it but you’re a phcking amazing partner. Can’t believe you thought I had something going with Connor when it’s always been you.

So yeah, I do like you. And I’m willing to try… I dunno… being with you. Like for real.

Stop drinking like that, though. I know I’m a hypocrite but you really scared me last night. I lost my Dad and I nearly lost Hank to the bottle. You might be this super advanced android, but that liquid courage shit is a death trap, man.”

>SYSTEM ERROR: THIRIUM PUMP AT MAX FLOW RATE. PUMP OVERLOAD. REDUCE PRESSURE IMMEDIATELY!

Nines nodded quickly and blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. Gavin grasped the android’s chin and tipped his face down gently. Their eyes fluttered shut simultaneously and their lips met.

>SYSTEM RECOVERY MESSAGE: THIRIUM PUMP FUNCTIONALITY RESTORED

They broke apart after several golden moments and Gavin hugged Nines tightly under the sheets.

“What am I supposed to say to the others? I don’t think I can look any of them in the eye ever again.”

“Are you serious? You got nothing on the insanity that bunch is capable of. Sixty thinks he’s hot shit with his blackmail material, but I got receipts that’ll glue his mouth shut for decades. Anyway, that’s what friends are meant to be like. You have dirt on each other but you’re not meant to use it.

The same applies to us too, by the way. Don’t feel like you gotta be… apologetic about what happened last night. Yeah, you better replace my fancy new plants but I’ll never judge you for what happened. I want you to know that I’ll always be in your corner, Nines.”

Nines hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand though Gavin’s hair, marvelling at the fact that he could now do so whenever he wanted. He didn’t say anything in response, and just settled for cuddling closer to the human.

>>RK900 SYSTEM HEALTH: EXCELLENT

[hurricanes-art]

i am interested in your hades au, would you mind giving some details about it? 👁 it looks really interesting

[This AU is from these drawings!]

*cracks knuckles* Ok! I actually got enough sleep last night so I'm finally feeling up to explaining this au lmao

Also I hope that by “some details” you meant “way way too many” because I am nothing if not long winded. Also @hades-hellsite asked for context too, here you go

The central premise is that, after he dies, Achilles manages to make an arrangement with Hades that allows both him and Patroclus to stay in Elysium together. He's not employed to work at the house and he never becomes Zagreus's combat trainer.

Hades makes a few attempts to find Zagreus a different teacher among the shades of great warriors, but being skilled does not make someone able to teach. And being able to teach one way doesn't mean someone will be good for every student. When Zagreus doesn't learn well with the few mentors Hades tries, which he barely gives a chance to breathe anyway, he's quick to decide that he must have no martial ability and declares Zagreus a failure in that as he has about so many things.

This has two major effects on Zagreus before his escape attempts begin. One, without any chance to actually grow into aptitude in combat, he's left without anything substantial to put his energy into and, more importantly, he's left without anything he feels good at and that gives value to his efforts. Two is that, in Achilles' absence, very few people in the house give him any care and support untwisted by the politics of the house and the judgment of his father. There is Orpheus, kind to him before Hades locks him away for refusing to sing, Hypnos, willing to put the house to sleep so he can find the truth though jumbled up in his own problems, and Nyx.

Nyx is the only one to aid Zagreus when he decides to try to escape. She contacts Olympus and weaves careful lies to win their support and blesses his departure. She's also the only one who believes that Zagreus has the slightest chance of escaping. Already in canon, most everyone tells him there no way he'll make it out, but here, it's so much worse. He doesn't know how to fight, his initial attempts are pitiful and his progress negligible, and near everyone lashes out at him to get back in line and stop making things worse.

He doesn't even have the Infernal Arms. Achilles is the one who brings them to him in canon; here Zagreus takes a simple bronze sword from one of the house's many displays of weapons from wars long past. He thanks the Fates that the Styx restores it the same way it does his body when he dies because he nicks and dulls the edges every time.

Despite all the disadvantages, Zagreus throws himself into escaping with unshakable determination, bone deep stubbornness. He picks up his sword and will figure out how to use it himself. Experience will be his teacher. He dies over and over and he watches his enemies and learns how they move and how he must react, mimicking their attacks for his own use and adjusting and adjusting after each failure. And contrary to Hades' adamant belief, Zagreus is very intelligent and learns brilliantly when allowed to and he grows stronger and stronger.

There's no teacher more savage than experience in something like this, though. The pursuit is agonizing and the cost is enormous and adjusting to this ceaseless violence feels impossible.

Much of my interest in this idea is how the added strain on his circumstances and relationships affects Zagreus and his mental state. At his best, Zag looks a lot like he does in canon, with his laurels unfurled and vibrant, and his feet glowing hot, but he rarely feels his best here. His laurel leaves curl in dry and crisp, muted like the leaves of autumn. Flakes of ash and soot build up over his legs and encase more and more as he suffers. So deep is his feeling of failure and being trapped that it affects him physically.

Not always, though. His flames respond to his emotions, burn brighter in his passion. Enthusiasm, love, fervor, bliss, anger set him glowing.

After a brutally drawn out span of time, Zagreus meets Achilles and Patroclus in Elysium and tbh, the rest of my interest is really in how the altered circumstances change the evolution of their relationships with each other. The pair of warriors were never separated for an extended time and Achilles is less downtrodden and resigned and Patroclus is less bitter and abrasive when Zagreus stumbles upon them.

They don't fight him, which Zagreus counts among his greatest blessings, although Achilles still seems to have an interest. It makes him twitchy and he jumps when Achilles finally lifts his spear and swings it around in his third time in their little glade only to bump the flat of the blade against elbow and tell him to keep it in more towards his body. Zagreus blinks rapidly at him before adjusting his arm.

Achilles helps him here and there, tips and tricks and valuable advice, but he never gives anything near the thorough instruction he did in canon. On one hand, he doesn't need to. Zagreus is a self made fighter and it leaves him with weaknesses but it is also a powerful thing. He is unpredictable and incredibly adaptable and he only continues to improve.

On the other hand, there's no room for it. Achilles is gentle with his guidance, but Zagreus is rubbed raw by all the fighting he's done and all that still depends on it. He doesn't want to always focus on the weapon in his hands. Patroclus notices and curbs Achilles' input when it exceeds its bounds. He sits aside and observers carefully when they spar. Zagreus doesn't need another's direction which is fine by him, who's lost all desire for combat. He gives his aid through his assortment of trinkets that carry Zagreus further to the surface.

Zagreus barely knows what to do with himself in the face of their care. He's so unaccustomed to such generous and genuine support, interest devoid of expectation or blame. As familiarity between the three of them grows, their interactions grow warmer, more tender and comfortable. Their care lays on a foundation, not a hinge, and Zagreus grapples with understanding that he really can lean on it. It all leaves him so uncertain yet so desperate because he wants more than anything to have joy and conversation and company with others where he doesn't shoulder heavy guilt from unspoken accusations over his escaping the house and to have a place he feels he belongs without being an intrusion.

He does at first believe he's intruding, though. Intruding on their time together in the peace of Elysium. It takes them time to convince him that they value his presence immeasurably. The opportunity to stay together in the Underworld has been invaluable for Achilles and Patroclus, but the peace of Elysium is a deceptive thing. It wears away and prickles at them, pressing down in odd warping ways. Patroclus is beyond pleased to have the war behind him and that it can never force him to fight again, and despite Achilles retaining an interest in competition and combat, he does feel the same way. Having a cause though, something to believe in and worth devoting their efforts towards... They didn't realize how deeply they missed it until Zagreus. It is revitalizing. They thrive in his genuine, boundless kindness and long to support him.

The drawings of Orpheus arguing with Hades and Zagreus fighting with Nyx is from one of my plot point ideas. Later down the line, together, Hades, Persephone, and Nyx agree to forbid Zagreus from seeing Achilles and Patroclus at Nyx's behest. Similarly to how she talks about Dusa in canon, she sees mortal shades as beneath his station and that it's highly unbecoming for the prince to be consorting with them. Zagreus fights against the idea ferociously and is only smothered by the threat that, if he seeks them out anyway, Hades will void Achilles' agreement and have Patroclus moved to the proper plane of the Underworld.

It crushes Zagreus. He loves them and cares about them so much and being torn apart from them is a wound that cuts so deep. But even more than that, what breaks him open most, is the fact that it came from someone he cared for and trusted most. Nyx was the one person in the House he could depend on most and this betrayal at her hand is devastating. And for such a worthless reason as propriety and godly vanity. It's not her place to force those upon him. It hurts Zagreus to the core.

Orpheus is the only one willing to stick up for him in this, deeply empathetic to the grief of being separated from loved ones and well acquainted with the fact that such punishments will only damage, never correct. After all, his stint of punishment in Erebus didn't revive his desire to sing, it was Zagreus's dedication and vibrancy that did that. One of the many invaluable gifts Zagreus gave him, including reuniting him with Eurydice, making him happier than he'd been since her death. Orpheus can't keep biting his tongue when all these gods refuse to see any of this.

It all comes to a head dramatically and painfully and I've thought of a few variations on how it would play out. I'll leave it for now though, I might draw it or write it later >:3c  Also this got really long lol. Hopefully the idea is at least somewhat interesting!

And here, have the lines from these two drawings because I like the way they look

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

[cuttoothed]

Day 8 of @jonmartinweek for the “AU” prompt.

This week has been such a delight to write for, and it’s the most productive and inspired I’ve been in a long time. I've really enjoyed all the great content coming out of this week. Thanks to the organizers for this wonderful event!

CW here for depiction of depression, though the term itself isn’t used. Depression symptoms are also shown to spontaneously improve over time, though it is stated that this is not a complete or permanent recovery.

*

There is a land with many gods. Gods of war and of peace; of harm and healing; of storms and snows. Gods of life and death; gods of hearth and home. The smallest village has its own small god; the cities have thousands, all clamoring for attention.

There is a valley with a kind and gentle god. He makes sure that the rains fall in spring, and in summer that the sun shines on the fields of growing crops. In winter he tempers the cold winds, gentles the frosts to spare the valley worst of the chill. The people love their god, and trust that he will always care for them.

Until one spring, the rains do not fall, and the clouds do not part to let the sunshine through. A freezing fog rolls in, blanketing the little village and the lands around it; the fields remain frozen, and those few plants that sprout from the frost-bitten earth rot in the clinging damp. The people despair, because their god has never let them down before. Have they done something wrong? Angered him somehow? They will have enough stores to survive one year without harvest, perhaps two; if their god’s kindness does not return by then, they will have to abandon the valley that has been their home for centuries.

The most senior leaders from the village go to speak with the god, in his shrine on the hillside. The god is distressed at their plight, but he tells them he cannot help; his soul is mourning, and he does not know why. He has tried to call on the sun, on the soft rains, but his heart is too sorrowful, and all that comes is fog.

The people of the valley try everything they can think of, to restore their god’s happiness. They bring him gifts, recite stories and songs; they throw a carnival in the foggy village square, with costumes and games and music. They offer to search for anything that will make him happy, if he will only tell them. But the god cannot tell them, and nothing brings him joy, and the fog remains.

*

One day, a scholar comes to the village. Jonathan Sims is from the city, from one of the temples of knowledge, where they have heard about this valley and its inconsolable god. He walks through the cold, mist-shrouded streets, and up to the hillside where the god’s shrine is.

The shrine is a cottage, small and quaint, with lights in its windows and smoke curling from its chimney; it isn’t like any shrine Jon has seen before. He hesitates before knocking on the door, unsure if this could truly be the home of a god. The person who opens the door looks like a man, with a kind face, and rough, home-spun clothing; he is quite unlike the gods of the city, who are sharp and polished and alien. But one look at his eyes tells Jon that this is the god: they are ageless and endless, swirling like silver-gray fog.

“I’m sorry,” says the god, “I’m not really in the mood for visitors at the moment.”

“Please,” Jon says, before he can shut the door. “I’ve brought jasmine tea—I heard you enjoy it?”

The god hesitates a moment, then says:

“All right, you can come in—but just for tea.”

The inside of the cottage is what Jon would have expected from its outside, cozy and cluttered, with a fire crackling in the hearth. The god fetches saucers and cups and brews a pot of the fragrant jasmine tea, and there are little cakes with dried fruit and honey, which the god tells him were a gift from the village.

“I’m not much of a baker myself,” he admits, pouring the tea. Then he asks: “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon. What, uh, what should I call you?”

“I don’t have a name,” says the god. “The people around here just call me “the god”, and I’ve never thought to ask them for one.”

“You could always choose one for yourself.” The god gives him a curious look, as if that’s not something that had ever occurred to him.

“I suppose that I could,” he says. He takes a sip of his tea. “This is very nice, thank you.”

Jon has never had tea with a god before. The god asks him about the city and his work for the Temple of Beholding, and Jon finds himself talking freely; this god is very easy to talk to. His face is open and kind, and he listens attentively as Jon talks about the city, its people and its gods, about the work of the Temple to gather knowledge, to understand their world.

“Why did the Temple send you to me?” the god asks at last.

“We heard of what happened in the valley—of the fog,” says Jon, and sees guilt flash across the god’s face, the silver-gray of his eyes darkening. “I came to see.”

“Not to try to cheer me, then?” the god asks. There’s a bitter note in his voice.

“No, not to cheer you. Just to speak. To understand.”

“I’m glad you aren’t wasting your time, then,” says the god. “My people have done all they can to lift my sorrow. And I have tried, every way I know how, to send this fog away, to clear the skies, but I cannot—”

He shakes his head in frustration, lines of worry and grief etched across his features. Jon has the sudden impulse to reach out and comfort him; but this is a god, and besides, they’ve scarcely even met.

“I’m sorry that you carry such a burden,” he says. The god looks at him, and his mist-colored eyes are grieved.

“My sorrow isn’t important, only that it causes me to fail my people.” He turns away, his expression pained. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t bother you with my troubles. It’s probably best that you leave.”

Jon wants to protest, but he thinks it’s probably not a good idea to refuse a god’s request. He sets down his teacup and puts on his coat, and at the door he pauses.

“May I come back tomorrow?” he asks. The god considers, and then nods.

“I would like that,” he says, with a faint hint of a smile.

It’s quite a lovely smile, Jon can’t help noticing.

*

In the village, Jon asks about the god. The god has always been there, he learns. The god has always cared for them, has always ensured their harvests are bountiful and their winters are mild. The people of the valley don’t understand why their god is so unhappy now, but they hope it doesn’t linger too long. They need him to be the joyful, attentive god he has always been; they depend upon it.

The next day, he walks back up to the cottage on the hillside; the door opens to his knock, and the god smiles in greeting. They drink tea by the fire, and Jon asks about the valley—about how it is, when the fog isn’t here. The god talks about the farms and the orchards, the beauty of this place in both summer and winter; he talks about the lives of the people, their joys and their trials, how they rely on him for their wellbeing.

“That sounds like a great responsibility,” says Jon.

“They need me to care for them,” the god says simply. “So that is what I do.”

They talk into the evening, and the god insists Jon stay for supper; a rich stew of root vegetables and herbs. The god smiles shyly when Jon compliments the meal.

“I’m a better cook than a baker,” he says.

It’s coming into night when Jon leaves, and the god gives him an oil lamp to light his way to the village. His fingers brush against Jon’s as he hands him the lamp, and there is a jolt of electric sensation; a reminder that he is still talking to a god.

“Walk safely,” says the god.

“May I come back tomorrow?” Jon asks, and the god smiles, his eyes shining silver-gray.

“I look forward to it.”

*

Jon comes back the next day, and the next day, and the next. Sometimes he and the god talk; sometimes, when the god’s sorrow is too deep for conversation, Jon makes tea and they sit together quietly. Some days they walk in the hills, where the fog coils around the god’s feet like a cat. Jon brings the god the books he’s carried with him from the city, and the god—eventually, shyly—reads Jon a poem that he’s written. Jon is no aficionado, but the soft sincerity of the god’s voice makes something warm curl in his chest.

Their fingers brush over tea cups and the spines of books, each touch sending that little electric thrill through Jon’s nerves, and a warmth that has nothing to do with divinity. He knows it’s foolish—utterly ridiculous—to harbor such feelings for a god. But the god is kind and caring and clever; he sometimes makes terrible jokes, and when they walk, he insists on stopping to greet every shaggy brown cow they see.

The god is also sad, a bone deep, aching sorrow whose roots are unfathomable. He tries to explain it to Jon: he has always felt such sorrow, from time to time, as if all the joys of life were far away, seen from behind glass. But it has never lasted for so long, and it has never before prevented him from fulfilling his duties; he has always been able to push it aside, to do what he must.

That, Jon thinks, is part of the problem; his god is too kind, too devoted, too willing to sacrifice himself for his people.

His god, and when did Jon start to think of him that way? Not in worship, but in growing affection?

*

More than anything, the god loves to hear of Jon’s travels. He has journeyed far and wide in service to the Temple, and the god listens raptly as he describes distant places he has been, sights he’s seen, people he’s met.

“I’ve never traveled anywhere,” the god admits. “It sounds quite wonderful.”

“It can be,” says Jon. “Though it’s best when you have somewhere to return to.”

*

One morning in midsummer, the fog curls denser than ever, and Jon can scarcely find his way to the cottage through the murk. He hurries as fast as he can, worried that something might be astray. He worries more when the god does not open the door to Jon’s knock; Jon wonders for a moment if he might not be home, but they had agreed to walk and visit the cows today. His god would not forget.

He hesitates, then lets himself in.

He finds the god curled by the fire, sitting on the floor with a heavy blanket around his shoulders. His face is drawn and tear streaked, and as Jon approaches another shuddering sob tears itself from his throat, fresh tears flowing from his silver-gray eyes.

“Oh—” Jon drops to his knees on the hearthstone, his hands flying up as if to touch the god’s face, but instead hovering helplessly above his shoulders; they have never touched, but for those accidental brushes. Does he have the right?

“Jon…” the god says, his voice rough and choked. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Don’t say that,” says Jon, distraught. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” says the god, even as another sob shakes his shoulders. “I’m—there’s nothing wrong, not really. I’m just being...selfish. Absorbed in my own foolish melancholy when my people—“

“Forget your people!” Jon snaps, more sharply than he intends, and he sees his god flinch. “Just for a moment, think of yourself. I beg you.”

“My people—this place—they are me,” says the god. “If not for them, what would I even be?”

“You would be dear to me,” Jon says, hoarsely, and the god’s fog-colored eyes go wide, startled. The truth, then, and this time Jon does press a hand to his god’s soft cheek. The touch sends that familiar, tingling thrill through his palm, the feeling that Jon has learned to love.

“Oh,” the god whispers, and his hand comes up to cover Jon’s on his cheek. He leans into Jon’s touch, smiling even as the tears continue to flow.

*

There comes a day, in autumn, that dawns with sunshine and blue skies.

Jon wakes with his god curled beside him in the warm nest of their bed, and watches the light shining in through the window with wonder. It isn’t precisely a surprise: the fog has been lessening these past few weeks, the clouds growing less gray, but still he had not dared to hope that the sun might return—to the sky, and to his god’s heart.

After a time, the god wakes as well—slowly, as he always does—and his tousled head turns towards Jon. His eyes blink open, and their color is the clear blue of summer skies.

“G’morning,” he says sleepily, and Jon’s heart swells with love for him.

“Good morning,” he says. “The sun is out.”

*

The people of the valley rejoice with the return of the sun. This year’s harvest is lost, but they can begin to plan for next spring’s planting. The leaders of the village go to the shrine to give thanks to their god, but the strange scholar from the city answers the door and refuses to let them inside.

“He’s busy,” the scholar says, and shoos them away.

*

“You know that the fog may return, in time?” The god’s fingers twine gently with Jon’s. “I love you more than breath, but love cannot guard against such inborn sorrow. It comes when it wills, regardless of life’s joys.”

“Let it come,” says Jon. “I have loved you in the fog, and I will again. You own my heart, however heavy yours might be.”

He lifts his god’s hand and kisses his fingertips, feeling the buzz of bright sensation against his lips.

“My dear,” his god murmurs. “My heart.”

*

It isn’t long before Jon receives the letter that he knew would come; the fog has lifted and there’s no more to be learned, he is to return to the Temple at once.

He reads the letter once, then burns it.

*

“We should go somewhere,” Jon says, one evening. His god smiles, fingers stroking through Jon’s hair, leaving little trails of electric sensation behind.

“That’s a pleasant fancy,” he says. “I would love to travel with you, see those wonderful places you’ve told me about.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Jon urges. “Just for a time?”

“I-I couldn’t,” the god stutters. “My people—“

“Your people would carry on without you,” says Jon. “You have given everything that you are to this place and its people for so long; you’ve suffered through pain and sorrow in silence, until you could conceal it no more. You have thought of nothing for yourself, love, and so I must think of it for you.”

His god is staring at him now, his blue eyes wide and wet with tears. Jon grasps both of his hands, feeling the little sparks of divinity dancing across his skin.

“Come away with me,” he pleads. “Be selfish, for a little while.”

“Jon…” His god breathes his name like a prayer, and Jon wonders at the fortune that brought him here. His god smiles, bright and glorious.

“Yes,” he says.

*

They lock up the cottage before they leave, an empty shrine, but only for a time. The spring sun is shining, and in the valley below they can see people working in the fields, planting for their next harvest. The god gives a worried sigh, and Jon takes his hand.

“Your people are well,” he says, gently. “And we won’t be too long away.”

“I know,” says his god, and squeezes his hand. Then he smiles, wry and mischievous. “I had a thought; since we’ll be out in the world, I should choose a name. I expect most people won’t take kindly to calling me god.”

“That may be wise,” Jon agrees, laughing. “Have you thought of the name you might want?”

“Well…” his god says. “I was fond of the protagonist in that novel of yours—The Life and Adventures of Martin Blackwood?”

“Martin Blackwood, eh?” Jon says, considering. His god—Martin now, perhaps—tilts his head quizzically, his blue eyes shining.

“What do you think?” he asks, and Jon smiles.

“I think it suits you.”

[ellsbclls]

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search.   “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.  

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed. 

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment,  which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod.  “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned  arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.    

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

[yandere-sins]

The Fox Wedding - Prologue II

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke, Kitsune!Miya Atsumu, Kitsune!Miya Osamu, Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Cursing

“I think…” Atsumu spoke out loud, having watched the spectacle for a while now. His eyes were fixated on the door to the underground bunker, and a smile played around his lips as he watched Kita leaving, together with Suna, who stood guard for the longest time. From their place on top of one of the half torn-down rooftops of the abandoned village, Atsumu could overview everything, even the celebrations held in the main hall, lights, and laughter reaching his twitching ears even through the magically restored sliding doors. 

“You think…?” Osamu yawned next to him, not bothering with bringing a hand to his mouth, still unused to the human customs they were forced to uphold. He, at least, didn’t like it, though Osamu still was better in trying to conform to them than his twin.

“I think I want her.” 

If not for the cicadas around them, silence fell over the brothers as the wind was the only other thing rustling through the grasses below their feet. “Crazy. You’re simply crazy.” 

“Just think about it!” Atsumu was quick to snap back, turning to his twin as if he needed to convince him for a plan he had already decided to go through with anyway. “Are you really happy here? Happy with their customs, their orders?”

“They took us in, ‘Tsumu. They fed us and healed our wounds after you went batshit crazy trying to fight that Tengu. You can’t just take the Clan Leader’s future bride as you want.”

Again, silence as Atsumu thought about it. Not long enough to make his brother believe he actually thought about it, but he pretended well. “Okay,” Atsumu ‘gave in’, nodding. Osamu sighed, knowing his brother felt no remorse or fault about what happened, and he never had any intentions to stay in the village anyway. “Have you seen her?” Atsumu whispered, eyes looking up to the moon, full and clear on the horizon. 

“Briefly, why?” Leaning back, Osamu picked at his teeth with his little finger as he followed Atsumu’s gaze to the stars. Sitting here definitely was better than partying downstairs. Maybe at first, he had liked being in a community, but Osamu too felt the dread of having to bow your head to basically strangers, even if the two had been adopted into the fox family whose protection they were now under. 

“She’s beautiful,” Atsumu sighed lovestruck, bopping his feet up and down excitedly. All Osamu could focus on was Atsumu’s tail wagging like a common dog, happy to see its owner. For someone as sharp and cunning as Atsumu, he truly was a fool. Even more so, a fool in love now. Annoyed, he reached for the telling limb, gripping it tightly and making Atsumu yap in surprise before throwing Osamu an angry glare. The latter merely stuck out his tongue, which riled up Atsumu even more.

“At least take a good look at her then!” he hissed, standing up and pulling his tail out of his brother’s grip. “‘Tsumu, wait,” Osamu called after him, sitting up on the rooftop as his twin left. Atsumu briefly turned to look up at him, as he was already off the roof, his gaze determined. He always knew what he wanted, and that was a trait Osamu both admired and despised on him. “You can’t face her like that. You’re so ugly.”

Hair stood up as on his neck as Atsumu furiously stomped away, screaming, “WE LOOK THE SAME, YOU BASTARD!” 

With a chuckle to himself, Osamu followed casually, wanting to see how this was going to end. He couldn’t let his twin have all the fun alone either.

You could pace your cell, and you could cry, but this time, there was no one listening in to your woes. Even if you kept rattling the bars, pleaded with them to yield, nothing happened when you touched them. Kita had made it look so easy, but there was something else going on; you just knew it. Magic, that’s what it was. How pathetic you felt, knowing that not even a guard at the entrance was waiting anymore since they didn’t expect you to get out on your own.

Wondering what time it was, something in you finally gave up. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or maybe just indifference about the situation now, but you were too tired to keep on fighting your problem. Your mind felt like some kind of slideshow, but it kept showing you the same thoughts over and over. It was trying to construct something that was out of your hands, tried to give you answers for everything. But as thankful as you felt to yourself for trying, its efforts were in vain. 

There were no gaps to fill out, at least not on your own. 

“Look at her! Damn it, ‘Samu, get your ass over here!” you heard from above the window, and god, for the first time, you felt annoyance as you did not want to deal with this. Whoever was speaking probably was just here to mock you again, and you simply couldn’t deal with this now. 

Once you decided to give up your endeavors of getting out and complaining, you had settled in the furthest corner of the cell. The one that seemed the least… unappealing to you from what you could see. But now, you stood up, angry that gawkers were leering into your window just to have some fun. Nudging the previously thrown over chair - you weren’t proud, but frustration had overcome you - back to the window, you took a deep sigh before stepping up on it. You tried to look strong, hoping it would seem like you were and scare off whoever was there, but inwardly, you couldn’t help but fear what could be awaiting you.

“If you’re not helping, then leave--!”

The words got caught in your throat as you didn’t expect two piercing pairs of eyes looking right back the moment you appeared in the window. It seemed to have caught them off-guard as well, and for a split second, they flinched away, halting their movements like animals determining if they should move or be quiet.

“Woah,” the blonde fox spirit gasped, inching closer immediately. With a short, hesitance glance to the former, the second one came closer, however, not as close as the other. A respectful distance, how you found, he seemed reasonable in your eyes. Only now you noticed that they looked eerily similar, almost like twins if there was such a thing under spirits. “You’re so pretty!”

The comment was now catching you off-guard, and you leaned back in surprise, almost losing your balance on the chair if you weren’t holding on to the window bars. “Oi, stop scaring her! Get back, ‘Tsumu!” the more reasonable twin instructed, though only when he gripped his brother’s shoulder tightly did he react. Up until then, he merely stayed absolutely still, only his eyes following every movement that you did, no matter how minor it was.

“Eeh,” he mumbled. “Sorry to scare you.”

That didn’t sound like he meant it at all. 

“You should be nicer. She’s the future wife of the Clan Leader,” the grey-haired brother muttered, reprimanding his brother who seemed unfazed while he watched you. In fact, by now, he had laid down in the grass, pushing it down. This was taking on casual picnic vibes instead of your imprisonment, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

“I’m not… I don’t want to…” you stuttered, biting your lip as you felt the tears return to your eyes, though you doubt you had any water left in your body to lose more. “I just want to leave,” you whispered, looking down helplessly, knowing they wouldn’t help you either.

“You made her cry, you Dunce,” one of the two whispered softly, and you heard an upset, “Ouch!” follow the snip of a finger.

“Who’re you calling a dunce, you… Idiot!”

There was the soft sound of a scuffle, and you looked up at the brother’s watching them trying to hit each other while also blocking the oncoming hits at the same time. As stupid as it was, you couldn’t help a small laugh falling from your lips about how bizarre and absurd this situation was, but it made both of their ears peak up out of their hair. 

“That’s better. You’re cute when you laugh,” the blonde one sighed happily, his lips curling into a smile too. “Now, do you want to get out?” he added straight away, causing his brother to give him a look that was saying, “What are you even talking about?”

“C-Can you?!” you squeaked in surprise, instantly clearing your throat and lowering your voice again. Even if the spark of hope was ever so little, it was quick to ignite in you, rattling your senses to think about all the sudden possibilities. Even if those two were the same as Kita, if they could let you out, you’d take your chance with them. “I mean- yes. Please let me out immediately! I can’t stay here, I can’t become that… person’s wife! So, please--!”

However, before you could finish your sentence, your eyes caught onto something that spread behind the two, something that could be best described as fire, though you had never seen it in these colors. A mix between blue and green, flaming up in balls and twirling through the air. By now, the two had noticed it too, their body language changing as they tensed up, getting to their knees quickly. 

“And… what are you two doing?” 

Oh, this voice you knew, and instantly, all the hope you mustered to create inside of you, vanished.

Out of the fire, unfazed by its usual quality of burning someone, Kita emerged. Also, another man - or fox - stuck his head out from behind him. You hadn’t seen him around, but while everyone’s eyes were intense, his seemed to be the most fox-like and uncomfortable to you, always reminding you that you weren’t dealing with humans. “We were--” the grey-haired brother glanced at his twin who searched for words, eventually filling in for him, “--greeting...”

“Yes! Greeting her!”

“I see. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Kita’s eyes fell on you, and you made a point to look away and sigh, wiping the tears from your face. You’d not entertain him with your attention, you decided. Missing the deflated expression he made, all you heard was a soft snort coming from one of the people outside your window. “Why don’t you all go back to the party?” Kita demanded, even if it was spoken like a question. Hearing the ruffling of clothes as the twins stood up immediately, you sent one last desperate glance at the blonde one. To your surprise, he looked back, giving you a short, unnoticeable nod before turning and leaving with his brother. 

“Idiot…” you heard his brother scold him. 

“Idiot, yourself!” he yapped back. 

“You’re both idiots,” the unknown man exclaimed with a sigh as he followed them, sending you a quick glance over his shoulders too before leaving you behind with Kita.

“[Name],” you suddenly heard from next to you as you were too focused on looking after the three to notice Kita having kneeled down, peering right at you. If it bothered him that you jumped, having totally forgotten about him, he didn’t let it notice you from his expression. Instead, with his hand flat on the ground, he cowered down to properly look you in the eyes on your height. This gesture seemed unlikely for a ‘man’ of his stand, yet it wasn’t the first one he surprised you with. 

“Did the two of them say anything unnecessary to you?”

“If they did, I sure as hell wouldn’t snitch it to you,” you hissed back, and he closed his eyes for a moment, which you could only interpret as him dismissing your choice of words. 

“Very well then.”

Raising from the ground again swiftly, Kita’s movements stroke you as odd, impractical despite being elegant. It just gave you another warning that you were dealing with something that was hard to believe. “Wait,” you called out to him, unsure why you even raised your voice. Maybe you still hoped for answers, or to reason with him, and now was as good as any moment. But his ears perked up, and he laid his head to the side, waiting for you to talk patiently.

“When can I leave? It’s dark and cold in here… I don’t want to be here.”

For unbearable long seconds, he merely looked at you, and it stirred up the fear in you that he might say, “Never.” The time he thought things over was something you couldn’t get used to. 

“Not too long anymore, don’t worry,” was his answer, vague and dismissive. “I suggest you don’t talk to anyone anymore until the ceremony.”

Sighing, you shook your head, one leg already off the chair, and you looked after it as you decided to end this conversation on your terms instead of having him walk off on you again. “Can’t make me…” you mumbled. It wasn’t like you wanted to challenge him, but to be fair, at that moment, you also forgot that he could hear you, even if you softened your voice.

“Yet,” you heard him hiss right at you, making your head snap back outside, seeing his wide-opened eyes staring at you with only the bars separating the two of you. This time, you did lose your balance from the shock and surprise, the chair wobbling below you as you lost your halt, your body plummeting to the cold, hard ground with a groan and a whine. Your hips and lower back were aching from the shock, but when you looked back to the window with tears in your eyes, Kita was gone.

And with him, he took all the hope you had, leaving you behind in the despair of anticipation.

CHOOSE YOUR FATE

➤ Marry Kita

➤ Run away with Atsumu

➤ Rely on Osamu’s care

➤ RUN

We recommend reading the routes first before proceeding with the last option.