#putting it in alphabetical order would probably be more organized than what it is now lmao

[clear-what-i-was-seeing]

my hannibal playlist is 376 songs help

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 7 - Trust

You help Mohawk give the crew their annual medical checkups.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

Apparently the Kid Pirates took their health more seriously than Yin would have guessed, because during dinner it was decided that tomorrow Yin would start her new job in the infirmary by assisting with annual medical checkups. Apparently Mohawk was adamant that the crew have regular health assessments, though to be honest only the top dogs ever usually made it through more than one annual checkup. Henchmen and cabin boys didn't often survive that long. Regardless, he kept well organized records of everyone currently on the ship, with manila folders containing sheets of information, from medical history to blood types to work he'd done himself. They were all kept in careful alphabetical order in filing cabinets that sat in the infirmary, organized by first name since many of the ship's occupants didn't have a surname.

With the addition of Yin's skills he was determined to add a new sheet of paper to each file, documenting old bone breaks, as well as any current internal issues that he might not have been able to catch without scanning equipment. The crew wasn't due for their annuals for another month or so, but he was excited to test out her abilities, so he'd convinced Kid to bring it forward.

She followed him to the infirmary after breakfast, where he gave her a quick tour of the room before performing her own checkup. He usually liked to do an initial interview when a new crewmate came on board but there hadn't really been the opportunity to do it till now. Anytime she'd been free, he'd been busy.

She gave him the short version of her life, he wasn't shocked to hear how the marines had treated her. They discussed contraceptives for a short while, but in truth he didn't really know much about them, since he was used to working for a crew of only men. She told him she had some sort of implant the commodore had forced on to her, so he made a note to look in to it, but left it be at that. The entire female reproductive system was something he was going to need to study now. He at least didn't need to inquire about her last cycle, or how irregular her period was, since he'd heard from Heat what happened during her initiation. He'd been unsurprised to discover the slave mark burned in to her skin in the middle of her back, it was long healed since it had been probably twenty years since she was branded.

“Any old injuries to note?” He asked, pulling out the new page he'd whipped up yesterday and photocopied a million times. It had a simple outline of a human, duplicated and labeled ‘front’ and ‘back’, with space around the edges so he could make notes and draw arrows to mark notable injuries.

“I broke my left ankle when I was learning to moon step, when I was about fourteen,” she said, tapping her lip with her index finger while she tried to recall past injuries, “oh and I dislocated my right hip when I was eight”

“How'd you do that?” He asked, making quick notes on the page.

“Got raped by a man too big for me,” she said plainly. He paused and put down his pen, letting out a heavy sigh. She seemed indifferent, like she'd just told him she'd fallen from a tree or something. You know, something normal for an eight year old to have done. He didn't pry further, she'd already given him her life story, he didn't need more information.

“I just need to check your eyes and ears and we can start calling the crew in for their checks,” he said, wheeling his stool over to sit in front of her. She was sitting over the side of the examination table. The infirmary wasn't large, but it was big enough for a decent size desk, an examination table, and a couple of more comfortable beds for those who needed a quiet place to recover, or required observation. The walls were lined with cabinets, many of them under lock and key, bookcases containing medical journals, and several tall filing cabinets. The room didn't have any windows, since it was smack in the middle of the building that sat above deck towards the back of the ship, and it smelt heavily of medical grade disinfectant.

“Can you remove your mask for me?” He asked politely, otoscope in hand.

“I can but you have to be quick, did Killer explain how my mask works to you?” She asked.

“He did, you won't be able to hear or see me properly, correct?” He said, “I'll be quick, just look straight ahead and stay still, I'll put your mask back on as soon as I'm done”

“Okay then, I think I trust you,” she slid her mask off and placed it on the bed beside her, sitting as still as she could, “okay, go ahead,” she couldn't make out her own voice, but she hoped she was speaking.

He gasped as he looked at her eyes and saw the grey-pink, no whites or iris or discernable pupil visible on them. He pushed it aside for now, he had to check her ears first. He moved quickly, knowing that every second he took was another second for her to become overwhelmed. Killer had warned that in the past she'd been known to become feral when she was without her mask, and he didn't feel like getting bitten today.

Her ears looked healthy, so he swapped his otoscope for his ophthalmoscope, rolling his stool to be directly in front of her and gently pulling her eyelids away to see more of her eyeballs. It was useless, he couldn't make out anything remotely human on her eyes other than the shape - whatever was going on with them was outside of his skillset. He sighed and gave up, putting the tool down and picking her mask up to slide carefully over her head. She felt it starting to touch her, so she quickly took over and shimmied it into its usual comfortable position.

“All done?” She asked.

“All done, thanks for not biting me,” he half laughed as he scribbled notes in her chart.

“I only do that to men who ask nicely,” he assumed she winked after that but he couldn't tell past the visor.

“Right,” he tried to brush it off, he wasn't one who was comfortable or who knew how to react to open flirting, “so, with the others. I'll do all my usual examinations, and when I'm done I'll have you scan them. I want to hear about any current or old injuries, and any abnormalities you see. I've never had access to scanning equipment so it'll be mostly new information for me.”

“Okay, can do doc!” She replied, moving from the exam table to the desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet.

“One last thing,” Mohawk said as he stood to go find his first patient. Most of the crew thought medical checks were for pussies and would no doubt be unwilling victims, “everything in this room comes under doctor-patient confidentiality okay? You're my nurse now, everything you hear is to be kept private. And keep it professional, you may be surprised how many of these men have STIs. If I hear a single laugh while I'm looking at someone's dick I'll have Killer drown you, got it?”

“Genitals don't phase me, most of the showers in the marines were mixed gender,” she shrugged, “you may be surprised to hear how many dicks I've come face first with to check for UTIs”

“Okay, good, we should have no issues then,” he said, “get off the desk, it's not professional. Sit in my chair till I need your assistance. I'll be mostly on the stool anyway”

“Roger that, doc,” she gave a mock salute and slid off the desk as he left.

Yin really was surprised at how many henchmen had STIs, and by the time they were done she was sure she could recite Mohawk's safe sex spiel of the top of her head, word for word. A few henchmen had been suffering in silence with bad constipation, and one had a badly broken toe. The cabin boys were all relatively healthy, but Mohawk gave them all the safe sex talk anyway, since it wouldn't be long before they started getting curious about the women, and he desperately hoped he could keep them from turning in to disease-ridden henchmen. Some of them were already partaking, but had been lucky enough to not catch anything.

It was well in to the afternoon when they got to the officers and commanders. The officers were all healthy, being that they'd been on the ship long enough to have regular checkups and knew well to follow Mohawk's advice. Yin had to stand on the examination table to check Wire's head, since he was just so damn tall.

She was surprised to find during Heat's examination that he actually had several hidden piercings that she could see through his clothes while she scanned him. She didn't ask why his dick was pierced, it didn't seem like an appropriate medical question. Kid wasn't happy about being examined, and complained the whole time that he was too busy for this shit. Mohawk gave him a long, stern talking to about drinking less beer and more water, if he didn't want a repeat of yesterday. She hadn't realised that the metal arm didn't have a real arm inside, she'd just assumed it was some sort of cover. She bit back a gasp when he removed it so Mohawk could check the stump of what used to be an arm. The base had metal embedded in to it, assumedly to help the prosthetic stick. She did her best to not gawk.

Last up was Killer, who they had to wait quite long for since he had been busy with some new recipe he had wanted to try that required being cooked slowly for many hours. He smelled of freshly cut herbs and bread when he entered, mixed with his usual scent of musk and spices. He locked the door as he entered, and Yin came to the jarring realisation that he was probably going to need to remove his mask. Mohawk went through his usual line of questioning before standing in front of Killer, he was too tall to examine from the stool. He did the same flexibility and grip strength tests he'd done for everyone else, and tapped his knees with a little hammer to check reaction times, before picking up his otoscope and turning to Yin expectantly.

“Right, sorry,” she said, turning and facing the wall. She heard something click and hair rustling as Killer removed his mask. “Hey um.. should I examine his head while the mask is off? I can't see his face if I'm scanning him, I promise”

“My head is fine,” Killer said flatly.

“I'm making notes of old injuries as well though, its important for my records,” Mohawk explained, “she's fast, it'll only take her a moment to check your head if nothing is wrong”

“Fine,” he sighed, “as long as she can't see”

“If my visor is dark green or red, I can't see you, just your insides,” she said, “to be honest I can only make out faces when its purple or like a neon green”

“Neon green is what you had when you killed the seaking right?” Killer asked, “is that some sort of night vision?”

“Yeah,” she explained, still awkwardly facing the wall, “and I can see pretty deep in the water as well, thats how I saw the seaking. I'm gonna turn around now, okay? I'll only be able to see your bones”

“Okay,” he replied. Mohawk finished checking Killer's eyes and stepped aside for her. She couldn't see well, but she'd spent all day in the room so she knew there was no furniture between them, and she could see their skeletons, the metal base of the examination bed, and Killer's mask sitting on the bed bedside him. She used what she could see as a guide to carefully make her way over, but she couldn't see the floor so her steps were awkward and she tripped.

“Woah, careful,” Mohawk said as he caught her, “what's wrong with you?”

“Can't see the floor,” she laughed, “I can only really see your bones and the metal things in the room, like Killer's mask and the base of the bed. Hard to walk without a floor”

She righted herself and stood carefully in front of Killer, who was definitely too tall. “You're too big, I'm gonna need to get on the table,” she climbed up on the side of him that didn't hold his mask, thankful that the base was metal and the mattress was thin so she could even see what she was doing. In her mind she was adding thickness to all the things she could see to account for what she couldn't.

“Ah- my hair-” Killer growled and pulled away, she'd unknowingly knelt on his long blond locks that had been resting against the bed.

“Fuck, sorry Kil,” she said, kneeling behind him, “I couldn't see it”

“It's fine, just get it over with,” he muttered, pulling his hair over his shoulder to the front so she couldn't catch it again.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” She asked as professionally as she could, “I need to turn your head”

“That's fine,” he replied.

She put her hands gently on either side of his head, carefully turning it and moving her hands around as she examined. It felt like he had thick bangs over his forehead, which definitely surprised her.

“Fuck you have a lot of old fractures for someone who wears a helmet,” she noted, “I can see… seven, Mohawk, if you want to note that down”

“Got it,” he replied, scribbling in his notes.

She turned Killer's face to look at her, her thumbs tracing his cheeks as she inspected them. She didn't even realise how intimate she was being, it was a natural process for her. His jawline seemed strong and his cheekbones looked prominent, if she had to guess she'd say he must have a sharp, attractive face. It looked symmetrical at the bone level, but who knows what kind of scars or deformities he might have on top that caused him to wear a mask.

“Old fracture on the left cheek as well,” she said, “I'd bet good money Kid did that”

“It'd be a winning bet,” he replied, suppressing a smile. Mohawk was busy with his notes, and she couldn't actually see his face, but he felt exposed anyway, and he didn't want anyone to see his ugly smile - the real reason he wore a mask.

“I'm gonna switch to red now okay?” She said, removing one of her hands from his face to fiddle with her mask. The visor turned red and her hand returned to his face, “Nothing of note on the front, eyes look healthy, frontal lobe looks fine,” she turned his head and made her way around, checking the side, then the back, then the other side. She paused, holding his head firmly in place. “Mohawk?”

“Mmm?” He looked up from his notes.

“There's something here, on the outside, towards the base of the neck,” she said, running her hand through Killer's hair and pulling it gently aside to clear the area she wanted Mohawk to check, “right here,” she pointed as she saw the bag of organs and veins that formed Mohawk stand beside the bed.

“It looks like a small cyst,” he said, prodding it with a gloved hand, “Killer I thought I told you to let me know if your mask did shit like this, it looks like it's about where the edge would rub”

“It's nothing,” he pulled Yin's hand out of his hair, entirely ignoring how nice her delicate hands felt woven through his locks, “I was just gonna deal with it myself”

Mohawk sighed and returned to his desk, “you're staying when she's done checking you over, so I can deal with that. It needs draining”

“I have shit to do,” Killer grumbled.

“Will you stop being a baby and let him do his job?” Yin scowled as she slid off the bed carefully, “now stand up so I can finish the scan, you can put your mask back on but I still have to check the rest of you”

He sighed and put his mask back in place before unwillingly standing, she tugged his arm to pull him further from the bed so she could walk all the way around him and quickly went about her scan, checking his bones first, then switching back to the red mode. She lifted his left arm as she checked his side.

“Your heart is beating a little fast Kil, you okay?” She noted.

“His heart rate was fine before,” Mohawk mused, quirking an eyebrow at Killer, who scowled under his mask at the clear insinuation.

“I'm just pissed off, now hurry the fuck up and quit touching me,” he growled.

“Anddd mister grumpymask is back,” she smiled, “relax, I'm done. He's all clear, doc, fit as a fiddle”

“Good, thats everyone then,” Mohawk said as he made a few last notes and stood to start collecting the supplies he needed for Killer's cyst, “you can go, Yin, thank you for your help. It won't always be this much work, I promise”

“Its fine,” she replied, unlocking the door to leave, “this was fun, I was happy to help. See you two at dinner,” she sung as she left. Mohawk gave her a weak goodbye, and Killer remained quiet.

Dinner wasn't far off, in fact by the time Mohawk was done with Killer it was time to head to the dining hall. Everyone else was already there, and Killer quickly finished off the special recipe of slow cooked beef and beer stew that he'd been working on earlier, with several fresh loaves of sourdough he'd made earlier to go with it.

“Anything of importance to report from the annuals?” Kid asked Mohawk as he dipped his bread in the hearty stew.

“Just that your henchmen need to keep it in their pants if they can't learn to use a rubber,” Mohawk sighed.

“The usual then,” Kid laughed, “dirty cunts”

“Oi, Yin,” Wire interjected, “I've got a question for you”

“Hit me,” she replied with a smile, inhaling another mouthful of the delicious stew - Killer's cooking really was the best she'd ever had.

“How did you know anything about us or our reputation if you've been locked away for the last five years?” He asked in a serious tone. It felt like an integration, like he was about to crack open that everything she'd told them was a lie, “you knew who Heat and I were, you knew the Captain and Killer, you said you knew you'd fit in here. But you've been in a cell for the last five years, and we only got our first bounties a few years ago”

Eveyone else turned and stared at her, and Kid stopped eating entirely, mulling it over in his head and coming to the same realisation Wire had, that the dots didn't connect. “How did you know about us?” Kid was almost growling, it felt like a threat.

She sighed and put down her spoon, looking across the table at Killer's expressionless mask, like he could offer some sort of support. “You really want to know? You're not gonna like the answer”

“Answer the fucking question,” Kid said sternly, grinding his teeth.

“Okay, fuck, don't bite my fucking head off. I'd been with the commodore you found me with for most of my imprisonment, and I guess you could say he was a fan of yours,” she explained, careful to speak to Kid directly, so as not to incur any further wrath from him, “when you came on to the grandline he started getting a bit obsessed. Every time he came to… visit me… he would tell me about your crew, and the big promotion he was gonna get when he took you down. Which is ironic, in hindsight. Anyway at some point he started bringing in your bounty posters, the four of you, mostly Kid's, and he'd use them against me if I wasn't obediently letting him have his way with me. He'd say shit like ‘you're so lucky you have me here to protect you and make you feel so good’ and then he'd wave Kid's poster in my face and say ‘this cunt would rip your legs off just so he could fuck the bloody holes left behind, he'd rape you to death and then he'd keep going. His whole crew would rape your dead body till you were nothing but a pile of rotting bones’. Sometimes he'd leave the posters in the cell with me, to remind me of my place, so I got familiar with your faces. Of course I never believed that shit, it wasn't hard for me to see that the marines are the bad people in this world, I've seen pirates as the good guys for a long time now. The second Kid let me go the day you found me, I knew I was right and the commodore was full of shit. Not that I think there aren't pirates that rape, I just knew for sure that you guys didn't. Anyway, yeah. That's how.”

Kid was visibly angry, not at her but at the commodore, as he tore a huge chunk of bread from an untouched loaf and dipped it with a little too much force in to his stew, making liquid spill out around the edges of the bowl, “Fucker…” he said through a full mouth.

“I did say you wouldn't like it,” she grumbled, looking mournfully at her stew. She no longer had any appetite but forced herself to keep eating anyway. She didn't want to offend Killer by not finishing the food he'd made them.

“Sorry,” Wire said solemnly, “I shouldn't have pried”

“It's okay Wire,” she forced a smile for him, “I get it. I'm a stranger, you don't trust me, and things didn't add up. You were just protecting the crew. I hope you'll come to trust me, in time, like I'm trying my best to learn to trust all of you”

“Trust is hard earned,” Killer added plainly.

“You think I don't know that?” She almost yelled in clear annoyance. Heat spooked a little as she slammed a closed fist on the table, “You think its easy for me to be sitting here on a ship full of men when every man who has every touched me has raped me? You think I don't know how hard it is to learn to trust someone? Cut me some fucking slack, Killer”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I'm not very hungry anymore,” she said, frustrated and angry. She felt like she was being treated like the enemy, and she'd done nothing to deserve it. She'd been working hard every day to earn their trust, and she felt brushed off. “Sorry, the food was delicious Killer, I'm just… not hungry anymore”

“Leave the bowl, I'll finish it,” Kid told her. He grabbed her hand before she left, “you'll have our trust, Killer's is just a little harder to earn. You're doing good work here, just give it time. I hope I can earn your trust as well, as your Captain”

“Thanks, Kid,” she sighed as he let her hand go. She didn't say anything more, and they watched as she quickly disappeared out of the galley and the doors swung shut behind her.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Fic Masterlist

Because Tumblr search features are shit. Fandoms, Fics, and Series are organized in alphabetical order. Each link will send you to the Tumblr version but there will be a link to the AO3 version within that post. If you would rather go straight to AO3, my account is linked in the post pinned on my blog.

Assassin's Creed:

Of Blades and Parchment Series

Tumblr tag: #Of Blades and Parchment

Altmal AU where Malik never became an assassin and instead works as a crippled bookseller. Series is in progress.

DPxDC

Two Crickets (My addition is only 646 words but idk about the ones before it)

no tag

An addition to a prompt by @/ailithnight and writing by @/omnicrafts and @/atiyasnake

The GIW has had Danny for an undeterminable amount of time. The strain is finally more than he can handle and he body hops into a brain dead clone, R13. Danny thinks he is having a nice dream. Kon is worried for the escaped clone he found in the middle of a field.

TW: mentions of tortue

Here's Where You'll Stay (3082 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #Here's Where You'll Stay

"As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. "

When Phantom comes down with Core Sickness it's up to John Constantine to save the ghost from fading.

Nothing Says "True Love" Like Being Given The Soul of Your Murderer (1510 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #nstllbgtsoym

Dead on Main ship. Addition to a post by @/nelkcats

"Another snarl caused him to lose his staring contest with the Bat. Nightwing was now standing between the two of them and appeared to be trying to placate the crime boss while Red Robin made the bloody stupid decision of trying to sneak up behind him. Red quickly paid the price for his folly, finding himself flat on his back pinned underneath Hood's boot while he honest to God snapped at Nightwing like a rabid dog.

"It's my gift! He gave it to me. Now fuck off before I m̶a̷k̸e̸ ̵y̶o̸u̶."

Yeah. Someone should probably interfere before they pissed him off anymore.

"You should corral your kids before one of em' loses a hand."

"Hngh." Batman leaves to break up the fight with Nightwing's aid. Hood scampers off to one of the corners of the cave, cradling the violet ball in his gloved hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world. It sounded like he was purring. John was suddenly very tired."

Rending Flesh From the Bone (3093 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #RFFTB

Dick wasn't so sure about Jason's "gut feeling", but what are brothers for if not to support each other during paranoia episodes? Now, deep underground in an abandoned subway tunnel, Dick is starting to have regrets as he watches the scene before him.

TW: Gore, Cannibalism, Vomiting, Zalgo Text

Slap a Bow on It (4752 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #Slap a Bow on It

Dead on Main ship, written for Dead on MAYn 2024

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

sketch of Danny's courting gift

Star Shoes (2772 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #Star Shoes

Dead on Main ship, written for Dead on MAYn 2024

"Things had been going so well for him lately. He should have expected the other shoe to drop. Or the metal pipe in this case."

In which Danny and his totally normal boyfriend who is definitely not Red Hood are abducted by cultists. Danny is super concussed, but he's got the spirit.

The Dead Stay Dead (My addition is only 679 words but idk about the ones before it)

no tag

An addition to writing by @/some-kind-of-creature and @/nerdpoe.

In which the LOA has a rule that those who die are never mentioned again and are erased from their records. Damian doesn't think to mention his late sister. Once he does he creates a portrait to commemorate her, but it turns out his sister is actually his brother now.

The Double-edged Blade of Chance (5309 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #The Double-edged Blade of Chance

Dead on Main ship, written for Dead on MAYn 2024

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade. 

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight.

“Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

"Why would I be a ghost?”

TW: Major Character Death, Child Neglect, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Depression

Unnamed fic (ghost chirps/unintentional ghost adoption au fic)

Tumblr Tag: #ghost chirps/unintentional ghost adoption au fic

Addition to a post by @/starwrighter

Fic is currently a work in progress with only a minimal amount released to the public under the Tumblr post. Once it's completely written chapters will be posted and linked independently.

[hearts-hunger]

to be loved by you || josh kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Summary: Josh helps you tidy the house.

Pairings: Josh x Reader | Genre: fluff | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: none!

A/N: I missed Josh and Baby :( Here's a little fluff for your afternoon ♡

How silly would it be to cry about a pile of laundry?

At the moment, you couldn’t exactly rationalize yourself out of it — the laundry in a heap on your couch, plus the dishes in the sink and the vacuum that taunted you from the corner of the room, seemed as likely a reason for a tearful outburst as anything else. You had about two hours worth of manic organizing and cleaning under your belt, and it had finally crashed into despair and frustration at the reality that it wasn’t amounting to much. Your house still looked as messy as before; perhaps more so, as your frenzied “cleaning” had put much of the house in disarray in your attempts to organize.

You heard the front door open, and you realized with a slash of guilt and panic that your boyfriend was coming home to nothing short of a disaster. You looked around the living room for something to put away to make it marginally less horrible, but one look at the place had you close to tears again.

“Baby, I’m home.” His cheerful voice had you tangled up in knots, and you couldn’t do anything but stand in the middle of the chaos and let it play out.

He came into the living room, and for a moment, he only had eyes for you.

“Hi honey,” he said with a sweet smile. “What’s — ” The state of the room caught his attention then. “Woah, what happened in here?”

Your face felt hot. “Um... cleaning?”

He didn’t say anything, but the quirk of his expressive brow told you all you needed to know.

“Okay,” he said evenly. His gaze lit on the books taken off the shelf and piled on the floor in alphabetical order, the knick-knacks that had been painstakingly dusted but not put back where they went, and the accursed pile of laundry that was all clean but still in a warm, fresh-scented heap.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean for you to come home to all this. I just got in the middle of it, and I forgot you were coming home soon.”

“It’s alright, baby,” he said kindly. “Can I help?”

“But you just got home,” you said weakly.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He picked up a stack of books, putting them back on the shelf without knowing how you had been trying to sort them, and you made a little noise of discontent.

“What?” he asked. He looked at you over the cover of The Fellowship of the Ring. “You’re putting these somewhere else?”

“No, I just...” You hid behind your hands. “I was trying to organize them. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

You heard him put the books down and come over to you; a moment later, you felt his hands on yours, drawing them down to see your face.

“Hey, my love,” he said gently. “Talk to me.”

You could hardly meet his gaze. “I’m sorry the house is a wreck, Josh.”

“So you said. I forgive you.” His smile was lopsided and sweet. “I feel like this is about more than just organizing books, yeah?”

Your head landed on his chest with a soft thump. “Yeah.”

He hugged you and ran his hands up and down your back. “You know, I’ve heard that if someone starts to clean out of the blue, it’s probably because they have something going on in their head that feels messy and disorganized.”

“That makes sense,” you said pitifully. 

“So what’s going on that feels messy?” he asked. “Is it something I can help with?”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed close to him. “You always help, Josh.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you to say,” he said sincerely. “I try my best. I’m glad you think so.”

He gently combed his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry things feel messy for you right now,” he said gently. “Did it help to work on the house?”

“A little,” you said. “But now it’s all halfway done, and...”

“And you’re all out of energy,” he guessed. “That’s okay. Why don’t you go have a rest? Take a shower or a nap or something. I think a little recharge would help.”

You lifted your head. “I don’t want you to clean everything, Josh.”

“I’ll leave out the stuff you’re wanting to sort through,” he promised.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said. “I ought to clean up since I’m the one who destroyed the whole house.”

He looked a little unsure then, but still as kind and patient as ever. “Is the rest of the house, uh... partly organized too?”

You put your head back on his chest in answer, and he chuckled as he held you close.

“Should I make some tea?” he asked. 

“Don’t go in the kitchen,” you said miserably. “It’s worse than in here.”

He laughed. “What do you mean? What did you do to our perfectly nice kitchen, baby?”

“I was trying to clean out the fridge,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt. “And I did, but now there’s a sink full of dishes, and...” A few tears did fall then, guilt and frustration welling up to a breaking point. “Maybe you should go live at Sam and Danny’s until I get finished.”

“Baby,” he said, sympathetic and affectionate. He brushed the tears from your face. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. “You picked a lot of big things to tackle and just got overwhelmed, that’s all. I’d really like to help if you tell me what needs doing.”

“Everything needs doing.”

He kissed your forehead. “Well, then everything is what we’ll do.” He squeezed you tight and let you go, gently steering you towards the bedroom. “But for right now, I think you should go take a break.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

He nodded. “I’m completely sure. Just don’t try to organize anything in there.”

You gave a watery laugh, and he gave you a sweet, gentle kiss.

“I love you, baby,” he said. “Even when you do destroy the house.”

You hugged him again. “I love you too, Josh.”

You went to take a shower, and like Josh had known it would be, it was a good reset for you and got you in a better headspace. You came out to the living room to hear the sounds of dishes being done and a Marvin Gaye song on the speaker, and when you came to the kitchen doorway, you couldn’t help but smile.

“But you brightened up all my days,” Josh sang, using a soapy spoon as a microphone. “With a love so sweet in so many ways.”

He caught sight of you, and he came over to you and took your hand. “Dance with me, baby.”

You let yourself be pulled into his dance, falling easily into the tangible joy and comfort Josh took with him where he went. He pressed close with one hand on the small of your back, swaying you back and forth; he kissed you as he tossed the spoon into the sink, happy and careless with you so close.

“I wanna stop and thank you baby,” he sang.

“Thank me for giving you more work?” you teased.

He grinned. “Thank you for giving me an excuse to dance in the kitchen.” He spun you around and put his hands on your hips when you were face to face again. “Feeling better?”

You nodded and kissed him again. “Much better. Thank you for doing the dishes.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” He nodded to the kettle on the stove. “There’s water for tea, and I thought we could put on our movie while we fold laundry.”

You put your arms around his neck. “Why do you take such good care of me?”

“I don’t think you need to ask that, sweetheart,” he said, showering your face with kisses. “You know the answer already.”

You did, and you were so thankful for his selfless love.

“You were better to me than I've been to myself,” you sang along, brushing his curls back from his face. “For me, there's you and nobody else.”

His smile lit up his face. “Aw, baby. You’re so sweet, you know that?”

You blushed. “Marvin Gaye’s the sweet one.”

He laughed, and you loved the sound of it. “Maybe, but I like your voice even better than I like his.”

You put the clean dishes away as he finished washing them, and when the kitchen was set to rights and both of you had mug of tea in hand, you went to tackle the living room. With Josh’s help, things were tidied and put back in short order and both of you sat on the floor to start folding the laundry. He put on Dirty Dancing and gave you the towels to fold.

“You’re giving me the easy stuff,” you protested.

“I hate folding towels,” he said. “Let me do the clothes and you’ll be doing me a favor.”

You smiled to yourself and did as he said, and the work was easy and even fun with Josh by your side giving his running commentary on the movie you’d heard a million times but would never tire of hearing.

Halfway through, you paused the movie to put all the folded laundry away and order takeout. Josh generously shared his orange chicken even after you’d mistakenly said you wouldn’t want any, and he cleared everything away when you were finished.

He came back to the couch and sprawled across it, tired and content. You turned to face him, and he propped himself up on his arm.

“Hey, Josh?”

He tucked your hair behind your ear. “Yes, my love.”

You leaned into his touch. “What can I do for you?”

“What do you mean?” He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You don’t owe me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I helped you because I love you. Because taking care of you is my job.”

Your smile was a little rueful. “Most jobs give you some kind of compensation.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” he teased, giving you a kiss.

“Compensation,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, girl. If you made me miserable every day of my life I’d still clean your kitchen and fold your laundry.”

“That’s so stupid,” you laughed. “Promise me you won’t do that.”

“No way,” he said. He was a little lost in kissing you, and you came up to lay with him on the couch so it was easier for him.

“I know what you can do for me,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” You were a little dreamy yourself as he hovered over you, his pendant necklace swinging gently, the warm scent of his cologne enveloping you in the comfort and safety you always felt with him.

“Mmhm.” He kissed your nose, your cheeks, your jaw. “Stay right here with me and let me kiss you all night.”

You giggled. “Okay.”

He kissed you while the movie played, and you relaxed completely under his attention and affection. He was so gentle and patient, showing you how much he loved you, and you melted against him.

You gently tangled your fingers in his hair. “Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for everything you do for me. I don’t deserve you.”

He smiled and hugged you tighter.

“It’s me who doesn’t deserve you,” he said. “I’m so lucky you let me come along with you, baby. Even when there’s dishes and laundry and alphabetized books everywhere.”

You gave a soft laugh and kissed him. “I love you, Josh. Do you know that?”

“Of course I know that, baby.” He held you close and made everything right in the world. “I love you too.”

josh taglist: @way-to-go-lad @prophetofthedune @stardustchxrds @bajabule69 @high-fidelity1 @grimm-gvf @gretnavannfleet @sunnykiszka

gvf taglist:@malany-gvf@spark-my-nature@eearevee@madneedshelp@demonrat444@josh-iamyour-mama@honeyandsweettae@mydarlingdanny@gretavandann@sacredjake@myleftsock@joshskittytickler21@hellowgoodbye@watchingovergvf2@fearfulspirit@mywaysoon@carbondancingthroughtime@caprisunsister@eraofstardustchords@sacredthefran@shesawomaninadream @serendipiti @demonrat444@wildflowerxx-x@tearsofdanny @iluvjoshkiszka @jordie-gvf-admin@demolitionndann@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit@nessie-glorpa@laneygvf

@gvfrry@ohhey1293@the-chaotic-cow@mountain-in-springtime@xserenax-13@stardustjtk @brooke-gvf@weightofdreams-gvf@jakeydoesit@gretasmokerising@hayley1623@doodle417@finestoflines@brokenbellz@bowievanfleet@s0livagant@strugglingtodoshit@s-u-t@kay-jordan@gretavanfleas@jakeyboiiiiiii@gretavansteph@gretavanbitches@myownparadise96@luverleaver@weightofdreamz@greatervanfleet@maedesculpaeusoubi@jakekiszkasbestie@pineapple-photographer@baguettejuliette@alexxavicry@levi-wants-ur-bones@carlybubs@cowboysamkiszka@dannyandthekiszkas@jordierama@slutforsteve@starshine-wagner@quartzzzzzzz@edgeofdreams@writingcold@lostoverseer@catharu77@mackalah@jaketlove @haileygvf @blacksoul-27 @ur-m0ms-blog@hi-hi-hello11@wildbluesorbit @nessie-glorpa @laneygvf@madneedshelp@dreamsingxld

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@waxgentleman asked: “There’s so many guests, Milady Ikkaku. That’s just the way we’re doing it. It's in alphabetical order.” It’s the middle of the party, but Galdino knows if he doesn’t start with the celebration photos now, it would be impossible to do them later with these pirates’s minds overtaken by booze. “Mr trafalgar! Please can you move to the side. Yes yes, Mr Bepo, would you be so kind to go to the left. Perfect. perfect. Now let’s just put on some decorations, yes yes.” At the start, all crew members of the Heart Pirates were in frame doing a wonderful cheerful pose, yet, after Mr 3 moving people here and there, Ikkaku now was isolated at the center only sided with the sculptor's precious associate Hawkins, golden roses surrounding them as they're placed in a very couple-ish archaic pose together. “ Two crew at once saves us time, you see! H comes before I, ga ne. Say Crooooosss Guiiiillld!” He takes a couple of photos before she even has the time to answer or run. Unprompted

With the exception of a few key incidents, such as dress plagiarism and being forced to spend time with her ex, Ikkaku had been having a lovely time at the masquerade ball. She'd gotten to drink champagne, look and feel pretty, seen Law make a few potential alliances and plant the seeds of discord between others, and even danced with Mihawk.

But then Mr. 3 had called for photos, and the engineer was wondering if the World's Greatest Swordsman would mind terribly if she murdered his butler. Because it would have been fine and wonderful if she'd gotten to pose with her crew, but instead, she'd been isolated and forced to pose with Hawkins among towering displays of golden roses.

Not for the first time, Ikkaku wished her grandfather had let her take his last name. Then again, Buranku Ikkaku was just as bad as Basil Hawkins in terms of this alphabetical order bullshit.

She'd unfortunately been too shocked by all of this to yell at Mr. 3 or even glare at him before Hawkins had pulled her into an embrace in time for the cameras to flash. The blonde bastard had even managed to dip her and steal a kiss, further making this ridiculous photo appear more in his favor. The magician dared to smirk as he pulled away, lip completely fine despite Ikkaku having bit him pretty damn hard. He must have transferred the injury on one of his brainwashed subordinates.

At least he released her afterward, probably knowing that if he didn't, Law wouldn't hesitate to break the "no violence" rule if he tried to hold onto the squirming woman. Tempting as it was to encourage Law to murder her scheming ex, she knew Mr. 3 would take Hawkins' side by claiming Ikkaku started it due to the biting. Grinding her teeth, the engineer stormed over to the middle-management fool who'd organized this whole shindig, grabbing him by the lapels to yank him close. "I don't know what your deal with Hawkins is," Ikkaku growled, "but I am warning you. Pull something like that again, and your clown boss won't be the only one in pieces. Difference is, I'll make sure your bits and pieces are scattered to the Four Blues and even harder to find than the One Piece."

[mikewheeleranti]

coworkers with robin but whenever you work with her she jus ignores reader till treader talks with steve and steve lets it slip robin has a crush on her

oops? 

your mind! also im sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted

Robin Buckley x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, Angst to a lil fluff, Good ending

“Three movies.” Those were the first words that came out of Keiths mouth after you told him you wanted to apply for the job, how much you needed it, etc. Thinking about it, it probably all just went in one ear and out the other.

“Excuse me?” You were honestly and rightfully confused, thinking there would be an interview of some sort. Though, all he asked you to do was name your three top movies. Once you didn’t receive a response from him, you stated that your favorite movies were The Outsiders, Footloose, and Grease. You didn’t really know if those were truly your favorite movies, you were confused enough with his question, or rather his demand to name three movies. So, you went with the safe options to name the relatively new movies that came to your head instead of waiting on it.

“Alright, you’re hired. You can start now by organizing that shelf,” Keith pointed to a shelf near a girl with short, brown hair, “in alphabetical order.”

“Thank you..?” You decided to ask more questions about the strange ‘interview’ and just go to the back to organize the movies. Looking at the shelf, you really didn’t think you could take organizing this on without help. Looking to your right, you see the brunette girl from before and decide to ask her for help.

“Hey, i’m [name]. Are you doing anything right now?” You knew she worked here because of the uniform she had on, now thinking of how embarrassing it would be if she was just a random shopper.

“No.” She uttered a short response and looked away from you, her gaze now on something different. You would’ve followed her stare, but you couldn’t stop looking at her. She, you looked at her name tag, Robin was breathtaking without exaggeration. Although, before you could look any longer, she walked away from you and seemed to now be doing something on the other side of the room. Not much of a talker, then, you thought.

Much later, around 3 hours to be exact, you finished organizing the shelf and realize you had 30 minutes left until 5:30. That was the promised time you could get off your job. You decided to go into the back to sit down for a minute and as soon as you did you threw your head back and sighed. You were still only a senior at Hawkins High School, so you couldn’t come into work this early everyday. You’d have to come in around four and stay until 7:30. And, by the looks of it, you weren’t going to have any friends to stick with. You started to walk around the store, looking for absolutely anything to do when you spotted him. The son of a bitch Steve “The Hair” Harrington. You always thought it was a stupid nickname, you thought he in general was stupid. You couldn’t place it why exactly you had such a strong distaste for him when you were a sophomore and junior except for the fact he hung around the douchey popular kids. You decided to put the previous grudge behind you, now walking up to him to try to talk.

“Hey, I’m [name]. I just started working here.” You tried a similar approach as you did with the pretty girl, Robin, hoping it would work on him.

“Hey oh hey! I was looking for some company other than Robin. What’s up?” He ignored the glare thrown his way from the corner of his eye and focused on you. You laughed at his behavior, which you were pretty confused about, actually, because you’ve seen him talk like a complete dick to some of your friends in high school. You thought a bit about the possibility that maybe he changed.

“Oh, nothing much. I just finished my duty for the day of organizing some shelves in the front and got bored. What about you?”

The conversation lasted a couple more minutes, mostly talking about what’s going on with each others lives. It was pretty nice talking to him, reminding you of talking to and old friend. Despite it being a good conversation, you really wanted to talk to Robin.

“Hey I have a quick question, is Robin not really a people person? I tried talking to her earlier and she kinda blew me off.”

He looked confused before answering your question, “Uh, that’s weird. She’s usually a huge talker.” He checked his watch which read 5:29 before talking to you again. “Hey, how about you head outta’ here and I’ll talk to Robin, me and her are closing the store today.” He patted you on the back before he ran to the back and pulled Robin with him, as if he was your mentor. Wiser and above you because he managed to graduate, you decided just to head home on your bike.

It was a couple of weeks later now, and you realized you slept in longer than you had intended on this Wednesday morning. You had both school and work today, so you really needed to get ready. Once you had your clothes on, you decided to do everything else in your routine which included quick touch ups. Once you were finished getting ready and got a ride to school from one of your friends, you were walking in the hallway to your first class. Nothing special happened at school, until lunch.

At lunch, you went to sit with your normal group of friends that you always do when you saw her. You never noticed her at lunch before, even after working at the movie shop, but once you saw her you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She was sitting with her friend group, which mainly consisted of art and band kids. You only realized you were staring when you made eye contact with her and she immediately looked away. Does she have something against me? 

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go talk to someone at that,” you pointed to the table she was sitting at, “table over there. I’ll be right back!” After you said that to your group of friends, you walked over to her table and stood behind the seat open next to her. You looked down at Robin, “Hey, can I sit here?” After there was no response and it seemed that Robin gave a quick look to someone else, they answered for her. “Hey! Sorry, someones actually sitting there but he’s in the bathroom right now.” You noticed the look Robin gave and the little nod she gave as to say ‘no’ and decided to say bye and walk away. Your mood noticeably dropped after that interaction, and you weren’t looking forward to work later at all. 

Once you had gotten to your work after convincing your friend to drive you to the store, you checked in with Keith and made sure he marked you for your shift. You were pretty sure band didn’t have practice after school today so Robin and Steve would be coming into work shortly. Because of this and the fact you really didn’t want to have to see Robin again because clearly she had something against you, you got straight to work and busied yourself with everything you possibly could, including sifting through your thoughts. You’ve been working here for quite a while now, so why does she still not like you? It can’t be because she just takes a while to open up, you’ve been trying to talk to her almost every time you come into work. It’s always the same routine, she pretends not to hear you. Group conversations with Steve don’t even work because she just ignores absolutely everything you say and leaves the area quickly.

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the bell of the store ring to alert the workers that somebody had come inside and you heard Steve finish a short remark, you immediately went to the back, but not before hearing her laugh that included a short snort. You hated that you felt this way, you hated that you liked her and that you thought everything that you could see about her from an outsiders point of view was prefect to you. You knew she was straight and she probably found out that you weren’t and ignored you for that reason. Just when you were about to curl up in a ball and hope to disappear, Steve walked in. Knowing he was close to Robin but not quite knowing yet if you could trust him with your secret, you told him the partial truth when you asked your question.

“Steve. Please tell me the truth when I ask you this because Robin has been ignoring me and I know you talked to her that one day when I left work and I just really need to know what’s up. I’m sorry if I did anything, just please tell me why she’s ignor-” You were quickly cut off by him and before you could get mad at him for it he told you the best thing you could’ve heard then.

"Robin has a crush on you, duh.” He stated it as if it was that simple, a boy liking a girl, so matter-of-factly it caught both of you off guard. You had your mouth hung open and he mirrored your expression, eyes wide, before letting out a string of curses and begging you not to tell anybody she liked girls. You and Steve had become good friends by now, but that was huge news. You told the obviously panicked brunette that you liked girls as well, and he noticeably calmed. 

“Oh... Oh alright. Well um... do you..?” He was obviously having a hard time getting his words out since of everything that had happened, and for good reason. It was the 80′s and almost nobody was accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. It was a hard time, and it was right of him to be panicking. but you understood him just fine.

“Yes- God, yes. That’s why I was so panicked when she seemed to hate me. I like her a lot, thank you Steve.” You hugged him quickly and you swore you could cry tears of joy, your emotions contrasting so heavily from those you had a couple of seconds ago. You rushed out of the break room and smiled so wide, Keith ended up pulling you aside from where you were headed and asked why you don’t seem miserable anymore, which you just laughed at and left the store, smiling the whole way home. 

Although you weren’t able to tell Robin until today, Saturday, because you didn’t have the same shift time with her until today, you were going to make today worth it. You don’t know entirely where your energy came from to be so suddenly glad to go to work instead of dejected besides the fact you know now your feelings are reciprocated. When you got into work and saw Robin talking to Steve at the front counter, you went up to them both smiling and butted into the conversation that now included you.

"You know, Robin, there’s a lot of better ways to deal with liking somebody than just ignoring them.” You knew this was safe to say around anybody who could hear because you two were obviously talking about a cute boy. Robin gave Steve a short glare which quickly turned into a shocked expression, and Steve looked at you with wide eyes before turning back to Robin.

“...Oops?” 

------------------------------------

“Hey guys!” You walked into the movie shop where you were met by a smiling Steve and a laughing Robin before they turned to look at you and say hello. You walked over to give Robin a hug and a quick, discreet kiss to her neck. You were happier than ever, and when you went to organize a shelf you heard a familiar voice behind you, your favorite voice.

“You need any help with that?”

ok i apologize and it’s ok i hate this too. but wowwww two posts in a day???? hopefully this is good 4 me ily all

[theacevampire]

Under The Skin II

Pairing: Kakashi x fem!Reader

Genre: romance, kind of hurt/comfort

Wordcount: ~2.1k

Warnings: none

Track: Vinsmoker, Anthony Meyer – Dancing Thru My Mind

A/N: Thank y'all for the love and support you gave the first chapter! I appreciate every like and every reblog <3

Under The Skin masterlist

Support

Kakashi’s dull eyes haunted you. Not in a sense that you felt watched or saw him everywhere, but rather whenever you closed your eyes to sleep you saw his Anbu flame before your inner eye or whenever you worked a design for a customer your mind wandered to motives that could cover up the flame or whenever the bell above your door rang you hoped it was him about to tell you he didn’t want the cover-up anymore.

You refused to accept Kakashi’s case as a failure. Whether because of pride, determination or guilt, you couldn’t specify. Probably because of all of the above.

What plagued you the most was the question why someone would even want to get an Anbu flame covered. To your knowledge, the Anbu were a very well-respected force directly under the Hokage’s order. Only the best shinobi were given the opportunity to join, so wasn’t it a sign of honor? Why would someone feel the need to hide it?

Two weeks later, you still couldn’t think of anything else and in a lousy attempt to get your mind off Kakashi and his tattoo, you convinced yourself it was time to clean out all the old files from your office. The tiny room in the back was more of an archive than anything else and filled with racks, which were overflowing with folders to the point they could collapse should anyone put any more weight on them.

During your raid you found old documents, dated years ago – receipts, sketches, letters from thankful customers. You put all the letters to your dad in packing cases you found behind one of the shelves and put the full boxes next to your front desk to take them with you when you would leave. As for the receipts and sketches you were indecisive if it was better to put them in alphabetical or chronological order, however that could wait until you had emptied all the racks and scattered everything on the ground, leaving said ground nowhere to be seen under all the paper, aside from the one spot for yourself to sit down.

Before starting the sorting process, you looked around the room again, scanning the shelves if you had missed anything, and noticed how different the angle from the floor was. While usually the room felt small and narrow, the shelves now seemed to have grown, towering over you and changing the perspective. When you checked the last shelf again, the one in the right corner, you noticed something sticking to the lower three boards.

Careful to not destroy the organized chaos you had just created, you got up and tiptoed over, kneeling on the ground. And sure enough, someone had taped a folded sheet of paper on each of the undersides of the three lowest shelves, so thin and hidden one wouldn’t spot them looking from an upper angle. Your fingers gently removed the tape from the old wood, cautious as to not damage the varnish, and then from the papers before unfolding them. You recognized your dad’s line work and drawing style instantly.

The first paper depicted a crow in front of a waterfall, wings spread and its beak torn open in a screech and a red Anbu flame worked into its stomach and chest, a thin line of what seemed to be uncolored skin separating it from the tattoo’s design. Despite it being only a sketch, the waterfall and the bird’s feathers were incredibly detailed and its visible eye contained some sort of red and black pattern. After years of knowing your dad, these were the parts he intended to do with your family’s special ink, bringing the water and the crow’s feathers to life.

On the second sketch, the pattern of the crow’s eye was pictured bigger. It was a red circle, outlined with a black border. The pattern inside was just as black as the outline and shaped similar to a shuriken with four barb-like corners. Inside was another red circle in the middle which – in turn – had a black dot in its center. Behind the circle, water shot up like a wave breaking at a cliff. And again, the very same flame was worked into the pattern with the very same uncolored bound.

Lastly, the third paper displayed a fan with a blaze in the background. Sketched on the red leaf was a slightly darker ring with three black tomoe circling around a single black dot. This time, the Anbu mark was worked into the fan’s white handle – again separated by an invisible line. But something about the fan struck a chord with you. You could’ve sworn you had seen it before but your brain wouldn’t tell you where or when.

Searching the three concepts for more details or hints, your gaze fell on the initials written lightly with a pencil on the bottom right corners of each sheet. U.I. You took another look at the third design. The fan looked like a symbol... maybe a clan symbol?

Your knowledge of the shinobi world and its clans was limited despite you being a chūnin on paper. Absolving the academy and becoming a genin was a requirement in your family to learn the special technique of tattooing which got passed down from generation to generation. And while you were taught said technique from the cradle, your dad had refused to let you work full-time in his studio until you were fifteen, so you spend the years in between to have an income from completing missions and making it to chūnin just a few months before your dad allowed you to resign from missions and work full-time for him. Therefore, you knew something about everyday shinobi life but coming from a team with neither a well-known sensei nor well-known teammates, you never came into much contact with shinobi politics or the elite, the members of powerful clans, aside from a few stories here and there.

And then it clicked. Uchiha. The fan was the Uchiha’s symbol and the pattern with the tomoe had to be their so called Sharingan. From what you had heard, they used to be a powerful clan, until one Uchiha had eradicated the whole clan in a single night, only leaving his younger, now traumatized brother behind.

Your dad’s words rang in your ears. ‘He was a young man, not even eighteen, whose village had failed him.’ Was he the boy your dad talked about that night? But why would he feel bad for refusing the request of a criminal? You shook your head. They were probably not the same person. Still, what if you...?

Discarding the chaos in the archive, you jumped to your feet and ran over to your front desk and pulled out a few blank sheets of paper and a pen. Quickly, each of the papers had the flame of your recent restless nights in the center. Though your enthusiasm was quickly hushed when a big problem arose. What motives would fit? You knew next to nothing about Kakashi, his life or his preferences.

Someone flicking your forehead made you snap out of it, reminding you where you were. It was Genma. You had totally forgotten about his appointment. Hastily, you stashed your dad’s design under your own sketches, hoping he didn’t see them.

“Is the thing with Kakashi still bothering you? Or has he, perhaps, stolen your heart?”, Genma teased, nodding his head to the sketches in front of you.

With a little shake of your head, you started drawing random lines around one of the flames, in hopes of sudden inspiration. “None of your business, Shiranui.”

“I pay you by the hour and if you charge me for the time you spend lusting over Kakashi, it becomes my business.”

Figuring work would keep you distracted for a while, you got to continue Genma’s tattoo of the Allied Forces headband, a reminder of the beginning of a peaceful era he and his comrades from all shinobi nations had helped create.

Neither of you struck up another conversation, so the only noises in the room were the humming of the air conditioning, the ticking of your clock and the buzzing of your tattoo machine. You cursed yourself internally for forgetting to turn on your radio earlier. Technically it wasn’t silent but it was still quiet enough for your thoughts to drown out all the noise and it was too much for you. You needed a distraction from your thoughts – a good one, since this wasn’t helping.

“Has he told you why he wants it covered?”, you asked. “Isn’t it an honor to be eligible for this special command? After all, only the most capable shinobi are offered a part in the Black Ops, no?” You mentally slapped yourself. This was anything but a distraction – on the contrary, it only added fuel to the dumpster fire that was your mind.

Genma took long enough to answer for you to look up from the motive in front of you. His eyebrows were furrowed, his arm behind his head and his senbon was moving from one corner of his mouth to the other and back again. “Kakashi is... How do I put this nicely? How do I say this without sounding like a jerk?”

“Since when do you care about sounding like a jerk?”

“We’re talking about Kakashi. This man saved my ass more than once. He’s the Hokage. My boss. My friend. You won’t catch me dead talking shit about him.” He clicked his tongue. “Anyway, what I wanted to say is: Kakashi is a good guy who’s been through a lot. I suspect, he’d like to forget his Black Ops era. The Anbu are ruthless. He isn’t. People say he is, but they’re wrong. Knowing him I would say he hates looking at it, hates remembering this part of his life.”

You nodded slowly, understanding, letting Genma’s words sink in. The idea to surround the flame with good prompts, things he liked to remember, grew even more on you. It was a good middle ground between the cover-up you weren’t allowed to do and the nakedness emphasizing the – apparently – horrible memories of the Anbu mark.

Although you still had no idea what exactly to draw around, you figured the solution sat right in front of you. “What do you know about him? What does he like? Are there any things that would make a great tattoo motive?”, you asked, avoiding Genma’s eyes by drawing the character for ‘shinobi’ on the forehead protector on his ribs.

Still, you could see him smirk in the corner of your eye, his twitching senbon attracting your gaze. “You’re really interested in the mystery that is Kakashi Hatake, huh? You like him that much after meeting and talking to him once?”

“I may have a solution that makes both of us happy. It’s not a cover-up but rather I’d add things around the flame, reminders of the good things in his life, representation of his friends or people close to him. And therefore, I need someone who knows Kakashi very well for the details.”

A little surprised, Genma raised an eyebrow. “Like the designs you stashed under your sketches earlier?”

You gulped nervously. “You saw?”

“The Uchiha fan isn’t something that slips a shinobi’s eye and neither is a Mangekyō Sharingan.”

The wording struck a chord with you, pointing out just how out of touch you were with events in the shinobi world since you had quit that life – aside from the war, but that had been something unavoidable. “Guess I’m not shinobi enough”, you joked, covering up the flicker of hurt in your heart. “Anyway. Who can help me figure out the right motives?”

“Lucky for you, I know just the right someone.” With a wink he disappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving you behind in a state of irritation, sitting on your stool, the machine still in your hand.

When Genma had said ‘someone’ , you had expected said person to be him, not a pug he brought when he returned to the studio an hour later. Granted, he also brought two other shinobi with him, who introduced themselves as Iruka and Yamato, but you were too distracted by the dog almost ripping off Genma’s face when he tried to hold him up.

“This is Pakkun. He’s one of Kakashi’s ninken who have known him since his childhood, so he should be an excellent help. Just don’t try to pick him up.”

Pakkun gave him a glare before turning his attention to you. “How can we help you, young lady?”

[y0ung-4ever]

Different

Pairing: Johnny Depp x reader

Description: You are a piano instructor in the city of LA, the day was slow but then he showed up.

Warnings: -

Rating: -

Notes: I think I wrote this well, but I also wish I had more ideas for more romance with this one.

I was cleaning the grand piano that sat in the middle of the spacious, open room. The sunlight came through the window as I swept the dust off the keys that weren’t used as much.

“Hello, I was wondering if you were still doing lessons?”

The deep voice brought me out of my daze. I snapped my head up and looked at the man standing in the doorway. He stood tall with black shoes, navy blue dress pants and a white button up that brought out his tanned skin as he undone two of the buttons around his collar. His hair was a bit longer and he had on glasses.

“Oh! Yes I am! Um, I’m y/n!”

I went closer to him and stuck out my hand. He looked at me and smiled as he shook it.

“I’m Johnny.”

We just stayed like that for a while. His hand grasping mine and mine his. Looking into each other's eyes and the smiles we had still on our faces.

“A-anyway..when would you like to start, Johnny?”

He shook his head and fixed his hair.

“Um, right now would be a better time than ever!”

He walked over to the piano and admired the glossiness of the wood in the sunlight.

“Great! So first of all I have to ask- can you read sheet music?”

He looked up at me and smiled.

“I can! That’s a good thing right?”

I giggled and shook my head.

“That is good, because, Johnny, we can start playing right away! Now if you would take a seat on the bench..”

He complied with my request and he already had a nice posture.

“I can see that your posture is already really good, and that’s important when playing an instrument like the piano. So, now that I have you seated, I want you to play your right hand at middle c.”

He looked up at me confused. I laughed and took his hand.

“Right here. This is the key that everything revolves around. It’s important to know where it is. And that key will be played by your thumb as your other fingers have their own key.”

He pressed his thumb down and repeated it.

“Do you want to play classical music? Or do you have your own piece that you prefer to learn first?”

He thought for a moment and rested his hands on his thighs.

“I want to play classical music, but I want to play ‘The Maiden's Prayer’.”

I smiled and got all excited. ‘The Maiden’s Prayer’ was absolutely one of my favorite pieces.

“Ah, you have good taste! I would be honored to teach you such an elegant piece.”

I dug around in the room to find the sheet music for the song, but all I could find was Beethoven and Mozart sheet music.

“Aish, I told them to put their sheet music back in the right order. I already organized these once..”

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I swung around to be met with big brown eyes.

“H-Hi, Johnny..I’m sorry it will only be a few minutes. My other colleagues must have mixed it in with their sheet music.”

I stepped to the side and ran past him to the other side of the room. I looked on the shelf and I couldn’t find it anywhere. I normally have the music alphabetically organized, but I couldn’t find ‘The Maiden’s Prayer’ under the T’s.

“Hey, y/n- it’s okay! I can choose a different song to play. It’s no big deal.”

I stood away from him but I could sense the disappointment. I looked at him and frowned.

“No, Johnny, I’m going to teach you this song and nothing is going to stop us from succeeding!”

An hour later..

*Dun- Dun- Dun——-DUN*

“Ah- okay okay, so maybe you just aren’t finding a comfortable way to move your hand without your other fingers hitting keys that aren’t right. I mean you have pretty big hands compared to me, but I guess you just don’t have the strength to only use a select few of your fingers at a time..”

I took Johnny’s hand and massaged it to get him to loosen up. I sat on the bench with him as I did so.

“So, y/n! Are you from California?”

“Eh, no. I’m from h/s. But I’ve been here most of my life..so it’s like I’m from here. What about you?”

I switched hands now. He stretched out his right hand from the massage.

“Nope, I’m from Kentucky. Born and raised.”

I giggled and continued loosening his joints.

“How old are you if you don’t mind me asking? And what made you want to work as a piano teacher?”

I smiled and looked into his eyes.

“I’m 25. I started working here when I graduated university. When I was a teenager I was obsessed with playing the piano and I loved teaching my cousins and friends how to play. Of course none of them got very far..but I enjoyed it while it lasted. So I decided, what better job than to be a piano instructor!”

He laughed and looked over at the black and white keys.

“What do you do?”

He turned his head and looked back at me.

“I’m an actor. I’m surprised you haven’t recognized me by now, I am pretty big in the acting industry.”

He fixed his collar and ran a hand through his hair.

I laughed and nodded my head.

“I kinda thought you were familiar, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He looked at me with sympathy.

“Well, that’s very kind of you Ms. Y/n.”

I smiled at him and got up from the bench. I touched Johnny’s shoulders and forced them to face the piano.

“I’m going to show you a few exercises that you can practice while I search for that sheet music. These exercises will help you earn more muscle in your fingers and dexterity in your left hand as well as your right. Do you play any other instruments?”

He sat up straight and looked up and over at me as I asked the question.

“Yes, I actually do. I usually play guitar, though.”

He looked down at the tiny scars on his fingertips, probably from the guitar strings.

“Oh, that’s good! So it will be pretty easy for you to build up dexterity, since you probably have strong muscles in your hands already from playing guitar. But I would rather you do both exercises because your hands still need to learn the keys and the distance between them. Your hands will feel tired and stretched, but that’s what we want!”

He nodded and turned back towards the keys.

I slowly introduced him to two of my favorite exercises that mainly specialized in helping muscle build and dexterity. After he got the hang of both of them I finally started to look around for ‘The Maiden’s Prayer’.

“You are doing great, Johnny! One of the easiest students I’ve had!”

He smiled and continued to practice the keys I told him to press.

I stood up from looking in the lower shelves of the bookcase that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and caught a glance of outside through the window.

“Oh my, it’s that time already?”

Johnny abruptly stopped and looked my way.

“Oh wow, time really does pass when you are having fun!”

I giggled and walked over to Johnny.

“It was so nice to meet you, Johnny. I hope that you will be consistent with your lessons.”

I smiled and winked.

He smiled back and reached his hand out. He brushed back my stray hair and let his hand linger on my cheek for a few seconds.

“The pleasure was all mine, really, Ms. Y/n. Thank you for being so considerate and passionate.”

I felt as if my legs were going to buckle beneath me.

“O-of course! Come back soon, please”

He handed me a card and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“My number is on there, you know, in case there’s a mishap. Or since it’s you, call me anytime.”

I blushed and held his card with my hands. Treasuring it.

“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Y/n.”

“I hope to see you soon, as well, Johnny.”

He couldn’t help himself and closed the gap between us. He had his arms wrapped around me as I too had my arms wrapped around him. His words would sound muffled and incoherent to most, but to me, they were as clear as the sky was blue.

“Thank you. For being different.”

[eliemo]

The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little different. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense. Right? 

Notes: So this is a lot longer and sadder than I planned on but i tend to get carried away. All main 6 sides are sympathetic here. 

TWs: Talk of physical violence, implied abuse (past) Sympathetic/morally gray Remus and Janus but Unsympathetic unnamed characters 

Part Two: Getting There

Virgil paused outside the closed door, holding his breath and listening, ensuring everything was silent for what had to be the hundredth time. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to even make it down the hall. 

But everything was quiet. Logan was with Thomas working on the schedule for the week and should be occupied for a while. It was fine. Virgil could slip in and out and no one would ever know. 

He really shouldn’t be pushing his luck like this. They’d been so...so ridiculously nice to him since he’d tried to duck out, and it had been everything he’d wanted for longer than he knew how to say. 

They were welcoming, understanding, and patient. And most of the time, he was able to convince himself it was genuine. That they were all trying. 

And yeah, he knew it wouldn’t always be this good. He was still getting used to all of this, to being a part of things, so they were cutting him some slack. Letting him adjust. Giving him time to get comfortable. 

Honestly, at times it was a bit painfully obvious how hard they were trying, especially considering how far from perfect he’d been despite his best efforts. 

They’d let far too many things go in favor of getting Virgil to relax. Things that never would slide if he’d been around longer. 

 He’d put a clean glass in the wrong cabinet after his first dinner with the light sides, and Patton had only smiled, quickly corrected him, and moved on. 

He’d accidentally spilled his drink on the table, and Roman had just shut down his string of prepared apologies with an almost odd smile before actually offering to clean it up himself. 

(Virgil had, of course, shut the offer down. He knew what they were doing, pretending his mistakes could be overlooked, but it didn’t mean he was useless. He was still trying to be good)

Virgil had even bumped right into Logan the other day, moving too fast through the darkened hallway in his haste to get to his room, causing the logical side to stumble and drop some papers he’d been holding. Virgil hadn’t even gotten a chance to open his mouth before Logan had gracefully picked up the papers, gently told Virgil to slow down, and continued on his way. 

It was...really kind of sweet, once he realized what they were doing. They knew he was wary, knew he wanted this so badly. So they were giving him extra chances, careful to be gentle as he settled in, not wanting him to duck out again. 

But now, weeks later, things had been changing. Not in a bad way, of course. Far from it. Things were just...more comfortable. More familiar. He was actually starting to feel like a part of their family, like maybe he could actually belong, and the others seemed to actually agree, gradually relaxing in his presence. 

Of course, it also meant all those extra chances wouldn’t be handed out freely anymore. He couldn’t expect to get away with things so easily now that he was settled in. 

Which was why he really shouldn’t be sneaking into Logan’s room. 

He was just...he needed something to do. His anxiety had been through the roof since he’d woken up, making him antsy and restless, and with the others busy all day he hadn’t had an outlet since breakfast. 

He’d noticed Logan had been lost in a book for the past few days, rambling on about it a bit once he was finished that morning, and while Virgil couldn’t exactly remember any details, something about the title and general idea had piqued his interest. Or maybe he was just desperate at this point. 

It had been a while since he’d been able to get into a good book, but it usually did help him calm down. 

And of course he could just ask Logan but...he could all too easily picture the logical side mocking the request or turning him down without question, and while Virgil knew it was unrealistic, he couldn’t muster up the courage. 

But it was fine. He knew what the cover looked like, he’d find the book, read it alone in his room, and return it when he got the chance. 

Easy. 

Except...well, that thought went right out the window as soon as he actually stepped inside. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming with how much Logan valued literature. 

He just hadn’t expected Logan’s bookshelf to be so big. 

Jesus, how many books could a guy even read? Logan barely even had any free time as it was. His library took up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen so many books in his entire life. It was like something out of the fantasy stories Logan liked to deny enjoying. 

Virgil knew he should turn back. He was still trespassing, and there was no way he’d find the specific book he was looking for in the limited time he had. 

But...maybe the specific book didn’t even matter. He could find something to read, maybe even a few, just to keep him occupied until Logan was distracted in a few days and he could return them. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, waiting a moment like Logan would pop up at any moment, and carefully approached the shelf.

They were all clearly meticulously organized, first by genre, then author in alphabetical order, and Virgil wondered how long it had taken Logan to do. 

He scanned the genres: fiction, nonfiction, historical fiction, sci-fi, textbooks, articles…

There was a brief moment of panic as he ran his finger along some of the book’s spines, frantically wondering if he would even be able to put it back in the right place, and what Logan would do if he found out Virgil had stolen-- 

“Greetings, Virgil.” 

Virgil jumped so hard his shoulder slammed into the edge of the shelf, fear and realization hitting full force as two books toppled over and fell to the ground, leaving behind silence louder than a gunshot. 

Virgil was frozen like a deer in headlights, gaze locked on Logan who was giving the fallen books a quizzical look. 

“Apologies for startling you,” he said, which was not how Virgil was expecting this to start, but it was almost worse than the anger he knew was coming. “I hadn’t expected you to be in here.” 

Virgil tried not to flinch, legs feeling like jello, panicked mind running through endless possibilities of how this was going to go. He’d seen Logan angry, of course, heard him yell, seen him lose himself to frustrated rants. 

It was impossible to know for sure how Logan would handle this, though. Handle him. He would want to discover the best method for a lasting impression, right? He’d probably been waiting to experiment different responses. 

“Virgil?”

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly, realizing he’d gone silent. “Sorry, I wasn’t...um, I wasn’t stealing. I-I know how it looks but I promise I was gonna bring them back I was just...I-I knew you were busy so…” 

He trailed off, heart sinking when it occurred to him just how guilty he sounded. He was a thief whether he was going to return them or not, and here he was, babbling like a scared child in front of the evidence. 

He swallowed, knowing there was no way out of it. He shouldn’t be trying to make excuses. “S-sorry.” 

He couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes, but he saw the logical side take a cautious step forward. “You were...oh, the books. Virgil, if you were interested in borrowing some reading material you could have simply asked.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, the reminder like a punch to the gut. God, why couldn’t he have just asked. A few seconds of anxiety and a bit of awkwardness would have been worth avoiding this. 

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he sneak around and steal from the people he tried so hard to earn the trust of? 

“I...I know,” he managed. “I just...sorry. I shouldn’t have, um, yeah. I know I shouldn’t have snuck in.” 

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Logan said, the blood rushing to Virgil’s ears as he came closer, voice nearly drowned out by his own racing heart. “It can hardly be considered sneaking- you do live here. Besides, I’ve read most of these already so you are welcome to--” 

At the moment, all Virgil registered was Logan’s presence now beside him, and the hand moving forward just in the corner of his vision. 

He was moving before he had the chance to even think about it, crumpling to the ground out of Logan’s reach, hands moving to protect his face, hunching his shoulders and waiting for the blow. 

The blow that...that didn’t come. 

“Virgil.” 

Virgil flinched at his voice, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering. He could feel Logan standing above him, annoyed even more now, no doubt. What was he waiting for? 

“Virgil,” he said again, softer this time. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Logan wouldn’t want to punish Virgil if he wasn’t sure the anxious side was even aware enough to understand. He wanted Virgil to see what he deserved.

He got that. He understood. 

So he nodded, hating how hard it was, digging his nails into his palm when he felt himself growing dangerously close to hyperventilating. He wouldn’t let himself fall under a panic attack. He wouldn’t hurt Thomas because of this. 

Virgil slowly raised his head, realizing idly that he was shaking. His throat felt tight, eyes burning, and Virgil kind of wished he could just hit himself. 

God, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t. He’d known what he was doing, knew all too well what would happen if he fucked it up, and he had (of course he had). 

He deserved this. It was fine. 

He was, however, mildly surprised to find Logan lowered to his level, the logical side crouched down on the balls of his feet, watching Virgil with an almost worried frown. 

“Take some deep breaths, please,” he said. “I was only going to help you pick the books up off the floor. I apologize if I moved too quickly.” 

Virgil shook his head, clenching his jaw to keep the teas at bay, not even sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Why the hell was Logan apologizing? 

“It’s...it’s whatever,” he managed. “Sorry for, uh, you know. F-freaking out like...like that.” 

“It’s quite alright.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, realizing Logan’s silence was probably him waiting to make sure he wasn’t about to send Virgil over the edge in any way that could affect Thomas.

His heart was in no way slowing, dread and apprehension rising unbearably but...but the waiting was only going to make it worse, the anticipation sickening. Best to get it over with. 

“Alright,” he said, almost impressed with how steady his voice came out. “I’m ready.” 

Virgil expected something to happen right then and there. He was less than prepared for the hesitation followed by...nothing? 

“Ready?” Logan echoed. “Ready for...what?” 

Virgil forced himself the shrug, still not able to quite reach Logan’s eyes, struggling to maintain nonchalance he didn’t feel in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “However, uh...however you wanted to do it, I guess. Whatever you’re gonna do.” 

A beat of silence and Virgil remained tense, bracing himself, willing himself to relax and take it. But all that happened was Logan awkwardly clearing his throat, leaning back on his heels. 

“Well,” he said. “I...had only planned on replacing the fallen books and assisting you in picking out some things to read.” 

Virgil nodded, blinking furiously to push back tears fighting to break through. “Ok? Uh, you mean...before or-or after?” 

“I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Logan admitted, incredibly out of character. “Have I missed something? What...exactly do you believe is happening?” 

Virgil wasn't exactly sure why that mattered. Was this...was this part of it? Making sure he understood? 

“Uhm, I-I broke into your room? I mean...I know I shouldn’t have taken your stuff without asking. I know...I know that’s not ok. I’m sorry.” 

He saw Logan tilt his head slightly, frown deepening. “It really is not an issue, Virgil. My books aren’t exactly locked away. I would only prefer you ask next time so I do not end up startling you, but you’re reacting as if I--” 

He stopped himself, and Virgil saw the moment realization dawned, something in Logan’s expression hardening. 

Oh. Of course. Logan hadn’t been sure Virgil would know something like this was coming. 

But he did, of course. He understood, as much as he hated it. He was anxiety, there wasn’t any other way to handle him. There wasn’t a choice. 

“Ah,” Logan said, softer than before. “I see.” 

Virgil nodded again, heart still racing so fast he thought Logan might be able to hear it, glad that now they could at least get it over with. 

But Logan still wasn’t moving, still talking in that achingly gentle voice. “Virgil, I have no intention of harming you in any way. I’m not even remotely upset with you.” 

And that...that didn’t make any sense. Virgil had literally just gone into someone else’s room without permission, and Logan had just said he’d prefer to be asked so why--?

Unless...unless he was being given another chance. Again. Another chance he didn’t deserve in favor of over the top friendliness. 

“Don’t,” he said, before he could even consider stopping himself. “Don’t keep doing this, Logan, please I...it’s ok, you guys don’t have to keep pretending. I know you’re angry, I know--” 

“I’m not angry,” Logan interrupted, firm but somehow still gentle, and Virgil shrank back. “I believe we have a larger issue to discuss as a group but for now please understand that I am not angry with you. And even if I was, I would never intentionally bring you any harm. I know for a fact the others would not either.” 

Virgil shook his head, hating all of this, hating feeling small and pitied, hated delaying the inevitable like things could work any other way. 

He hated the treacherous, nagging hope in his chest. 

“But they will,” he insisted. “You all will, I know you're just...waiting to make sure I won’t leave again but I won’t. I know it's how it works, ok? It’s fine.” 

The lie tasted like acid on his tongue. But some of it was true, at least. He wouldn’t try to leave again. He was finally feeling like a part of things. And if he was good, well...maybe that could last. 

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Virgil was just beginning to think he’d finally managed to convince him to set the pity aside when he was speaking again.

“Virgil, do you think you could accompany me to the commons? I believe it is imperative to discuss this with the others.” 

Virgil froze, realizing he may have just made a simple situation worse by raising his voice. Did Logan really need to get everyone? It was bad enough that just Logan was upset with him but all of them...

But he knew better than to risk any further anger by arguing. And Logan was carefully offering a hand, palm up, no sudden movements or pain when Virgil hesitantly took it and was helped to his feet, so maybe...maybe Logan wasn’t actually angry. 

Not right now, at least. 

Logan led them down the hallway to the living room, Virgil unable to stop his trembling the entire time, legs a bit unsteady and weak. He almost wished the short walk took longer, dread building up in his gut the closer he got like a man being led to the gallows. 

He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw both Patton and Roman already there, lounging casually, all smiles amid easy conversation. 

Logan cleared his throat, Virgil left to shift awkwardly beside him, the other two sides immediately glancing up with bright, welcoming smiles. 

Virgil felt guilt twist in his gut at having to ruin that. 

“I believe,” Logan started. “That we need to have a...family meeting, as Patton might call it. There’s been a bit of a miscommunication that needs clearing up.” 

“Everything alright?” Roman asked as Patton, cheerful as ever, waved them both over. Logan didn’t answer, and Virgil was too busy staring at the ground to think of a reply. 

He ended up being seated on the couch beside Roman, Patton sitting across from him and Logan standing at the arm of the couch. For a moment nobody spoke, Roman and Patton clearly at a loss. 

“Virgil,” Logan prompted. “Would you mind telling the others what happened from your point of view?” 

Virgil’s eyes widened, head snapping up to look at Logan with something almost like betrayal, and any hope he’d had that this was going to be forgiven without consequences suddenly vanished. 

But Logan was quick to reassure him, hand moving to rest against Virgil’s clenched fist. “I assure you, nothing about my previous statements will change. I only want to ensure they have all the context.” 

Virgil shakily nodded, like he had any choice in the matter, trying not to wince when his voice came out small and breathy when he finally spoke. 

“I...I went into Logan’s room,” he admitted, waiting for yelling that never came. “While he was with Thomas. I-I was looking for something to read but-but I was going to give it back, I promise, I wasn’t stealing I was just too anxious to ask, so I--” 

“Wait,” Roman interjected, curiosity turning to something close to amusement. “That’s all you did? I steal from Logan all the time!” 

Logan blinked. “You what?” 

“Kiddos,” Patton chided, unable to help the small smile on his lips. “Now we usually don’t go into people’s rooms without asking but I’m sure Logan understood. What’s this all about?” 

Virgil suddenly had absolutely no idea how to respond, this entire conversation now taking a much different turn than he’d expected. 

What the hell was happening? Was this...part of it? It sure felt like he was being punished, but Patton’s smile was as genuine as ever. 

Logan leaned forward, furrowing his brow. 

“Virgil can you tell us what you believe is going to happen to you? What you thought was happening when I found you?” 

Virgil, far too lost to do anything but comply blindly, couldn’t understand why Patton and Roman suddenly looked so confused. 

“I was...I was going to be punished, right?” He didn’t understand the purpose of making him explain something everyone already knew. “I mean, Logan said he wasn’t mad so I guess I’m getting another chance but any other time I would’ve--” 

“Wait a minute, what?” It was Roman’s turn to sound baffled, all his attention now focused solely on Virgil. “Punished? What do you mean, like- like grounding you? You aren’t a child, Virge.” 

“I do not think that’s what he meant.” 

“But he...Logan, he--” 

“Virgil believed,” Logan cut him off, sounding more hesitant than Virgil had ever heard him. “That some type of...physical punishment was inevitable. At least, that is what I gathered.”  

“You think we’re going to hit you?” Patton’s voice, verging on frantic, easily overpowered the others. “Over this? Over anything?” 

Virgil flinched back against the couch, desperately trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, how he’d managed to make this so much worse than it was just five minutes ago. 

“I don’t...I'm sorry?” 

“We’re not going to punish you, kiddo,” he said, the word ‘punish’ almost spat out like something sour. “We’d never do that to you! Never.” 

And oh, that was Patton, trying so hard to be kind, even when he was so visibly furious. Looking out for all of them to the end. Careful not to let Virgil’s emotions affect Thomas. 

“You guys don’t have to keep doing this.” 

Patton blinked, trying and failing to get Virgil to meet his eyes. “Keep doing what, kiddo?” 

“I’m not gonna duck out again,” he said, the smile he offered meant to be reassuring but he was certain it was wobbly and frail. “I-I like it here. With you guys. You don’t need to keep...cutting me all this slack. I know I keep messing up and I know if this is going to...work I have to be--” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Roman’s language wasn’t even corrected, Patton hardly acknowledging the outburst at all, but the moral side looked somehow just as furious. 

And there it was, genuine fear and panic returning with a vengeance, the sudden knowledge that he’d probably done irreversible damage in an effort to reassure them. 

“Kiddo you...what is it that you think you’ve done wrong? You’re not...oh my god, you’re not talking about the little things, are you? Spills or- or misplacing something or...or…” 

“I- yeah?” Because what else would he be talking about? “I’ve been...I’ve been trying to be good, so I-I don’t think I’ve done anything else to--” 

“Is that how you think we handle things?” Roman was rigid beside him, his fury overwhelming, and Virgil hoped one of them would hurry up and just knock him unconscious. “So, what? If Logan drops something am I just supposed to hit him?” 

“Roman,” Logan said, sounding oddly choked. “Please.” 

And oh. Oh. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, and Virgil realized all at once why they were so upset with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just a stupid misunderstanding. 

Oh, god. 

“No!” He insisted, voice a little stronger in his desperation for them to understand their mistake. “No, of course not! That’s not...guys, that's not what I meant.” 

The tension in the room dropped a bit, Prince relaxing just slightly, but three pairs of eyes were still watching, painfully concerned. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you thought that,” Virgil continued, a little lightheaded. “Not you guys, never you guys. Obviously not, you all wouldn’t...you shouldn’t be punished like that. Ever. I promise I was just talking about me.” 

He expected relief, understanding, and hopefully to just get this whole thing over with so they could hurry up and go back to normal. 

But apparently he’d only managed to make everyone even more distressed. Logan and Roman’s eyes had gone wide and Patton...Patton had tears streaming down his face. 

“Why would you think that?” It was quiet, barely a whisper, but Virgil had never heard Patton sound so furious, so cold and lifeless. 

“I...I don’t know why you’re--” 

“Virgil why would you think that?” Patton was standing now, taking a step away from the couch with a hand moving to cover his mouth. Logan reached for his shoulder, only to be quickly shrugged off. 

“Patton, please attempt to calm down.” 

“But he...he said...why, Virge? Why just you?” 

Virgil blinked, fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat, still hopelessly lost to what he’d managed to do wrong. Did they...not know? Even Logan? Wasn’t it just...common sense? 

“It’s...because it’s me?” he offered weakly. “I-I’m anxiety. I tend to- to mess things up, guys. I have to be, you know, dealt with differently so it doesn't affect Thomas as much, right?”

He was met only with deafening silence, before Logan cleared his throat, looking for once like he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be saying. 

“That hardly seems logical,” he said, no malice behind it. “How would punishing you more severely do anything but succeed in making your mental state worse?” 

“I...I don’t know. But it works. It makes me more...cautious. You guys haven’t really had to deal with me and my fuck ups before but now that I’m here you’ll have to...I just uh, figured you knew this, I guess. I thought everyone did.” 

“No,” Roman said, hardly audible at all. “We didn’t.” 

Oh. Well...at least it was out now. Virgil may not like it, but he knew getting hurt sometimes was necessary. If it made their lives better, it was worth it in the long run. 

But still…

The thought that if he’d only known, realized sooner that their willingness to let things go and love him unconditionally really was genuine, he could have maybe lived without the fear of punishment for the first time in so long. 

So much for that. All he’d done now was manage to make them angry, and he honestly wasn’t even sure what he’d done to make them all so upset.  

“Who told you that?” Roman asked, Virgil wincing despite himself. “Was it...if it was my brother--” 

“It wasn’t,” Virgil said, not really sure if that was the answer Roman wanted, but it was the truth. Remus and Janus had never been the ones to use any sort of physical violence on him, though Virgil never had any doubt that they could. “It was the others. I...they told me...I really thought you guys knew.” 

Now, looking at it from a suddenly concerning perspective, he wasn’t even sure Remus or Janus had known. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said to the silence, not even sure why anymore. “It wasn’t always that bad. That’s why I asked Logan, I wasn’t sure how you guys...uh, planned on doing it but apparently you didn’t even know you had to so we can--” 

And suddenly Patton was gone, stalking through the kitchen doorway, practically leaving behind a visible trail of utter fury as he went, and Logan was following with one last worried glance over his shoulder. 

Oh god, they were both mad. He’d managed to upset everyone, ruin everything in one conversation, and he couldn’t even apologize properly because he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

He’d just been trying to tell them it was ok, that there was no other way to deal with him, that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He hated it, sure. It terrified him. He wanted so badly for it to stop but it couldn’t, it…

It couldn’t. Could it? 

He felt Roman shift on the couch, probably to hurry and follow the others into the kitchen to get away from the mess on the couch they’d accidentally welcomed into their family. 

Before he could stop himself Virgil was reaching forward, grabbing Roman’s sleeve with a weak, trembling hand. 

“Please.” And there was absolutely no point in trying to hide the unsteady wobble of his voice. “Will you...I-I just don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Oh, Virgil.” 

When Prince moved, there was a split second of blind panic where Virgil thought he was being attacked. But it faded as soon as he registered strong arms around him, pulling him against Roman’s chest, and Virgil immediately burst into tears. 

Roman was shushing him gently, holding him tight but somehow not uncomfortably confining, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he muttered quiet reassurances. 

Virgil could only sob into his chest, overtaken by hiccuping gasps that left him dizzy and weak and unable to stop. 

And yet he was distantly aware that through his tears he hadn’t stopped his string of endless apologies, the desperate words falling without his permission. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Roman said, impossibly soft. “You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I-I ma-made him mad,” he insisted, breath catching on nearly every word as he tried in vain to calm down enough to speak properly. “Patton, I-I...h-he was mad, he’s upset and he’s...he’ll--” 

“Patton isn’t angry,” Roman said. “He’s just a little upset. But not at you! You haven’t done anything.” 

“But I…” he paused, aware enough to consider the words before he said them, how utterly unfair and selfish they were. But maybe…

“I don’t want you guys to hurt me.” 

“We would never,” Roman said, holding tighter without hesitation. “I know you won’t believe this right away, and you’ll need to hear it from the others too, but just listen to me for now, ok?” 

Roman pulled back, but only slightly. Virgil could still feel the Prince's heart beneath his own shaking fingers, and the creative side carefully cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. 

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, Virgil. Nobody. I know we’ve only recently become friends, but I swear to you, for the rest of your life, you never have to be afraid of that again. Not from me, not from the others. Not from anyone.” 

Virgil struggled to breathe, chest aching, lungs screaming for air, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “But they...you have to th-they said--” 

“They were lying,” Princey said, with so much venom Virgil had to forcibly remind himself that Roman wasn’t angry with him. “You heard Logan, it doesn’t make sense. No one should...you didn’t deserve that, Virge.” 

But...but he’d...all this time he’d just…

“Patton will you please--” 

“No, Logan! I can’t I- did you hear him?” 

Patton and Logan were still in the next room over, and Virgil could now just make out the two of them standing at the threshold. He forced himself not to whimper at the obvious anger that came from both of them, but didn’t stop himself from clutching at Roman tighter, beyond grateful when Princey did the same. 

“I did,” Logan said. “I was standing right there. But Patton--” 

“How could they…god, how could they just--?” 

“Patton.” Logan hadn’t yelled, not exactly, but it was loud and stern enough to quiet the other’s rant. “I know. I understand that you’re upset- we all are. But right now Virgil thinks you’re upset with him.” 

Virgil’s breath hitched in the sudden silence that followed, doing his best to focus instead on Roman’s breathing, feeling the Prince move to rub along Virgil’s back, still hushing and whispering quiet reassurances. 

He cringed when he heard a tiny gasp followed quickly by two pairs of footsteps making their way towards the couch, and he wondered just how far Roman would have to go to keep his promise. 

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry.” That was Patton’s voice right above him, soft and sad and...and no longer quite so angry. “Honey...can you look at me please?” 

Virgil tensed, reluctantly moving his head away from Roman’s chest, face burning as he let the others see his tear stained face, heart clenching when he realized Patton wasn’t much better off.  

“Sorry,” Virgil whispered, guided more on frantic instinct than anything else. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Patton reached forward, slow and nonthreatening, lacing his fingers with Virgil’s. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you, kiddo. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We would never do that.” 

And god, Virgil wanted so badly to believe that, to hold onto every word, every sympathetic gaze, everything that was so clearly real love rather than pity and never let it go. 

He wanted to feel safe with them. He wanted it more than anything. 

But...but they had all been angry. He’d seen it just moments ago, heard the unmistakable fury in their voices. 

And maybe he’d spoken aloud without realizing, or maybe Logan was just exceptionally good at reading him, because suddenly the logical side was crouched beside Patton, carefully meeting Virgil’s watery eyes. 

“We were not angry at you,” he said slowly. “We’re only angry at whoever thought it was alright to hurt you. Who made you think you could ever deserve it.” 

 “But I…” he didn’t know why he was arguing, why he was frantically searching for reasons to destroy something he wanted to desperately. He settled for the only reason he’d ever really been given. “I’m anxiety.” 

“You do represent Thomas’s fears, yes,” Logan said. “As well as many other fundamental functions.”  

“That doesn’t make you bad, kiddo,” Patton chimed in.  “We love you. All of you. We’re all gonna mess up sometimes, and that’s ok. Mistakes are part of being human.” 

“Well technically we are not human,” Logan pointed out, earning an exasperated sigh from Roman. “But Patton’s point still stands. Each and every one of us will make mistakes. That is, of course, why we have each other. Not to punish, but to assist each other.” 

And that...wow, that sounded good. Impossibly good. God, how did he manage to surround himself with the kindest people in the universe? 

“But what if I…” he swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase his worries. “If I do something wrong, like...like really bad--” 

“Then we will discuss it as a group,” Logan said. “And work together to determine what happened and how to fix it without any lasting negative effects. Not just for Thomas, but for all of us.” 

“Indeed!” Roman agreed with his usual flair, reaching around to lightly squeeze Patton and Virgil’s intertwined fingers. “And if any of the others attempt to bring you harm again, they’ll have to get through me first!” 

“All of us,” Patton said, wiping his eyes with his free hand and flashing Princey a grateful smile. “We won’t let that happen to you again.” 

Virgil shrugged, overwhelmed, aware the gesture did nothing to mask the emotion in his eyes. “It’s...it’s really ok, you guys. They aren’t like you, they were just...doing what they thought they had to.” 

Logan frowned, averting his gaze. “Unlikely.” 

“That doesn’t make it ok,” Patton said before Virgil could question exactly what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “And we can see it left you really afraid, kiddo.” 

“I-I guess. Yeah.” 

“Sometimes talking about traumatic experiences can be the first step to moving past them,” Logan said. “And we will, of course, be willing to listen and help however we can.” 

Virgil... didn’t really want to talk about. He still wasn't quite able to wrap his head around the fact that it wasn’t a necessity, never actually had been, a part of him still wholly convinced this was some kind of cruel, awful trick. 

But...but Logan was looking at him with such gentle earnestness, Roman and Patton both nodding and smiling in gentle encouragement, those doubts were quickly being pushed to the side. At least for now. 

They all looked so eager to help, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to shut them down the way his panicked brain, so used to isolation, was screaming at him to do. 

And besides, maybe it could help. Maybe talking would help him come to terms with...whatever it really was that had happened. 

But not right now. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else. 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “Just, uh...not now. I don’t...I mean, i-if that���s ok, I don’t think I’m...ready.” 

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said, not sounding disappointed in the slightest, only understanding and patient. “Whenever you’re ready. You can come to us in your own time.” 

“Is there...anything we can do for you now?” Roman asked. “Anything to make you feel better?” 

“I guess, uh-” he paused, wondering if it was too much, too selfish a thing to ask. “Maybe just...stay here for a bit? All of us? Only if- if you aren’t busy, obviously, it’s ok if you are, I just thought maybe--” 

“I think that is an excellent suggestion, Virgil,” Logan said. “Having some company will do you good.” 

Patton practically squealed, squeezing Virgil’s hand before hurrying to his feet,  blinding smile on his face. “Ooh! We can make some snacks and bring some blankets over! Be right back!” 

Virgil was carefully maneuvered (probably a bit overly careful, like he was glass that could shatter at any moment) so he was now comfortably pressed against Logan’s side, Roman hurrying to follow Patton with promises to return in seconds, departing with a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. 

Virgil was almost surprised when Logan’s arm moved to wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close, almost as protective and warm as Roman. He’d have thought Logan would be more averse to physical content. 

He’d never been so glad to be mistaken, basking in the warmth like it was a sunlit room. 

Virgil took a breath, breathing a bit easier now. “I really am sorry. I probably...really freaked you out, huh?” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said. “I believe it’s safe to say you were much more...err, freaked out, as you would say.” 

Virgil smiled, relaxing into his hold, but there was still something heavy sitting in his chest, nagging at him to voice it aloud. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I do.” He didn’t move, terrified he’d lose his nerve without the warmth at his side. “I...it was stupid. All of this. I actually thought that...I still don’t really think that this can work. Without...doing all that when I screw up. I want to but it’s...I thought there wasn’t any other way.” 

“There is no reason for you to be held to a different standard than anyone else,” Logan said, slow and careful. “We plan only on treating you as an equal. As someone we care very much for.” 

“I should have known,” he muttered. “You guys are r-really...really great. I shouldn’t have accused you of that.” 

There was a beat of silence that stretched on just a moment too long, and any other time Virgil might have taken that as a perfectly reasonable excuse to begin panicking all over again. 

But with Logan’s protective hold still firmly around him, the easy warmth in his chest that lingered from everyone’s kind words...he couldn’t find it in him to be particularly worried over Logan taking a moment to think. 

“You did not accuse us of anything,” the logical side said, continuing before Virgil could argue. “You reacted to what you assumed to be normal, no one can fault you for that. You’ve been taught to have a very particular mindset. As...upsetting as it is, your reaction was perfectly logical based on the information you had.” 

Logan’s arm moved, just for a moment, to reach around and squeeze Virgil’s hand, just like Patton and Roman had done, just another reminder of newfound safety. 

“What we need to do now,” Logan said. “Is work on making sure you never feel that way again.” 

Virgil nodded against him, finding that, at least for the moment,  his want to believe, to be safe and welcomed, was enough to outweigh the storm of doubt in his racing mind. 

“Ok,” he said, glancing up just in time to see Logan’s relieved smile, loosening his hold as Roman and Patton hurried back to the living room. “Thank you.” 

As the four of them settled down and rearranged themselves, there was an all too familiar burning in Virgil’s eyes, a tight twisting in his chest. But this time, it wasn’t from panic or fear.

This time, if he cried from this feeling, from being content and accepted, it might not be the worst thing in the world. 

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I read your headcanons about James Potter and I’m really interested to hear your thoughts Sirius and regulus Black pls pls pls

Oh no.

Alright, strap in people, because I’m about to say some things that nobody will like.

Let’s start in alphabetical order with Regulus. 

Fandom often sees Regulus as a reformed Death Eater, the redeemed villain, or else a cooler suaver version of Sirius steeped in pure blood culture, making him more palatable than many pureblood characters as a love interest. There’s a lot of fics of him having almost defeated Voldemort, coming back from the dead and actually defeating Voldemort, reconnecting with Sirius, showing Harry the cool pureblood ways without being racist, etc.

Well, I don’t really buy into any of that.

I think, even with his defection, Regulus was likely still a very racist character and never really disavowed the cause. True, he was young when he was sucked in, he had his whole family meltdown when Sirius was disowned and suddenly he was heir, but I do think he really did believe in blood purism and nothing from the books suggests that he died not believing in it. He just stopped believing in Voldemort.

Instead, I believe he discovered that Voldemort a) did not mean anything good for his culture and b) Voldemort was a fraud.

What do I mean by that?

Well, in the first case, I’ve always viewed Tom Riddle in that period in time as a hate filled nihilist who doesn’t really believe in what he preaches. It’s just convenient to him as the purebloods are the ones with the money and the power. There’s no point in him appealing to Dumbledore’s ilk as they’re far less likely to be able to make him king (also it would mean putting up with Dumbledore and his stupid speeches about love and friendship). Most of Voldemort’s actions throughout the books don’t make the muggle borns’ lives miserable (at least not until he gets into power) but makes hell of the purebloods’ lives and absolutely ruins them. 

The Black family, in particular, he essentially wipes off the face of the Earth. 

With that in mind, I imagine a young Regulus eventually came to realize that Voldemort was systematically destroying the great families from the inside to put himself in power. It was never about the muggleborns or the country, it was only ever about power.

Then we get to the other bit, Voldemort being a fraud. Unlike many, I believe the Death Eaters had no idea who Voldemort was. It’s too unbelievable to me that some guy named Tom Riddle, who their fathers all went to school with, who everyone knew as a muggle born impoverished orphan, could convince them all that he was the next Merlin who they should devote their lives (and their money) to. Tom’s charismatic, but he’s not that charismatic. Better for Tom Riddle to just disappear entirely and show up as the Count of Monte Cristo, descendent of Salazar Slytherin himself, impressing all the young heirs while their young, angry, and stupid. 

With Regulus finding out that his great leader is actually just the halfblood son of a squib, the whole movement falls apart. Regulus is a pawn, fighting for nothing he believes in. Now, that said, I don’t think Regulus ever figured out who exactly, Tom was. He clearly knew the name, as we see from the locket, but just knowing that Riddle is a muggle last name would be enough to know that Voldemort was nothing he presented as.

Basically, Regulus becomes extremely disillusioned with the Death Eaters and Voldemort in a few short years. The change he wanted to see sweeping the country doesn’t happen. Instead the violence, which he was initially very excited for (guys, Regulus did join a domestic terrorist organization and I will not cut him slack for that, he was excited to blow up some muggle borns) is pointless and hurting their own people as opposed to the muggle borns. 

During all of this we have Kreacher borrowed by Voldemort for the creepy horcrux placement. This certainly makes Regulus go “hm” and he’s clever enough to put together on his own that the locket must be a horcrux.

That said, I do not believe he knew enough about Tom Riddle to have been able to hunt down the rest or even know where or what they would be. Dumbledore had been paranoidly collecting memories of Tom Riddle’s entire goddamn life and relying on the plot convenient aspect that Tom was apparently so much of a romantic he never left his horcruxes anywhere but Britain and always left them in very noticeable sentimental objects. Regulus knew about the locket because of Kreacher, had he lived, he’d have no idea where the hell else to start.

So that’s Regulus for you, a fairly intelligent, yet youthfully stupid, extremist whose dream did not live up to the reality and probably still would have spat in Hermione’s face had the gang resurrected him from being a lake zombie.

As for Sirius, well, he’s James the asshole times a thousand to the point where he makes some “ha ha, very funny, but actually really this is horrifying” decisions. 

I guess we’ll start back when he’s young.

We don’t see much of the young Sirius, and granted, what we do directly is given to us by a very bitter, resentful, and biased Severus Snape but his actions still read a lot like pretty much any Stephen King bully villain. The scene where they’re tormenting Snape (and Snape drops the slur, Lily abandoning him) is horrifying to read. And it’s clearly one of many moments over many years of this group of boys sexually harassing him (and yes, that was sexual harassment guys, let’s not pull out stops here).

Then we get to the joke with Lupin that... really wasn’t a joke.

The flimsy excuse we’re given in canon is that a) it was all in good fun b) Snape was so much of a coward he’d never actually go to the Shrieking Shack because he’s a big chicken. Bawk bawk bawk, Snivellus the chicken. But, well, these excuses are flimsy. 

When you get down to the bare bones of it what Sirius did there was attempted murder via his chronically ill best friend. It’s one of those actions that I simply cannot justify, even had Sirius not thought it all the way through, as boys will be boys. What was the good outcome there? Snape sees Lupin and shrieks in terror? (Only to probably run to some authority and try to get the uncontrolled werewolf the fuck off of campus, nice going Sirius) Snape gets infected with lycanthropy? Snape dies, Lupin wakes up covered in blood with the horror of knowing he ate a classmate? 

Later, we do get Sirius sort of apologizing for his behavior. But it’s at best a ‘sort of’ apology. He never admits the full horror of what he did, just how relentlessly brutal he was to Snape, or what the werewolf thing really would have ended in. Instead he goes, “yeah, James and I were kind of assholes. He grew up though, Lily married him so he couldn’t be an ass anymore! And it was Snape, Come on, Harry, it was Snape.” And Harry, messed up asshole that he himself is goes, “Yeah, it was Snape! Stupid Snape!”

I also never got the feeling he ever fully apologized to Remus. Sirius used Remus in the worst of ways, made it clear he had no respect for Remus and no compassion for his condition, and continues to treat him as a sort of secondary friend to James. I think it says a lot that Remus was able and willing to believe Sirius was guilty of murdering James and Lily in cold blood. 

Which probably gives you a hint that I think Remus/Sirius would never happen except in the most toxic of ways possible.

Basically, in a fair world, Sirius should have been expelled if not tried for the werewolf incident. However, Dumbledore plays favorites and chose the sons of two lords as opposed to the poor half blood (which I imagine cemented Snape’s path to becoming a Death Eater). And so there is some cruel irony in that Sirius was eventually jailed for something, even though it was something he didn’t do.

Now, after Azkaban, Sirius seems to have mellowed out a lot. While he’s a bit unhinged and thoughtless (his rescue attempt of Harry’s rescue attempt at the end of Order of the Phoenix) a lot of this can be seen as after effects of his stay in literally hell on Earth for over ten years. 

That said, a lot of people see him as the cool uncle character who, if Harry had been able to live with him, all would have been well. I firmly disagree. Young Sirius was, well, god knows how warped Harry would have been growing up with a young and reckless Sirius Black. After prison he’s in no condition to take care of Harry, and even says as much multiple times. Sirius is cool to hang around at a distance, but up close and personal he’d be very messed up and not at all ready to be a father to a teenage boy. 

Otherwise, Sirius was very very very gay for James Potter. Unfortunately for him, James Potter was straight and into Lily Evans. I’m sure it was a very sad day for Sirius when Lily actually said yes to James. Except not really, because James always strikes me as a “bros before hos” kind of dude. Not that I’m sure if Sirius ever admitted he was gay and in love with James, I’ve always been of the belief that pureblood culture is extremely homophobic and it just... wouldn’t come up. 

So there it is, now excuse me while I go hide behind this barrier before I get eaten alive.

[makaylajadewrites]

Of Teddy Bears and Sweet Nothings

Hi all! This is just a cute little one-shot that I felt inspired to write after this thread. Now, I do not have an ASD, but I received advise from a few people who do, but I'm always open to suggestions/advice!

Read on AO3 here

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid

Additional Tags: Teddy Bears, Autism, Autistic Spencer Reid, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex

Word Count: 2410

Summary: Spencer fears that his love for stuffed animals, specifically one special teddy bear, is enough to scare Derek away. He couldn't be more wrong.

~

The animals had always been a secret. The stuffed animals, that is. He had never told anybody about his incessant desire for them; how hugging one close to his chest at night made the darkness seem a bit more bearable, and helped him to sleep throughout the night. How their softness comforted him and helped him to wind down. He had quite a few of them, and most of them were placed around the head of his bed. 

But his absolute favorite one, an old brown teddy bear, was the exception to that. It was made of soft brown wool, its black eyes wide circles and its little nose stitched vertically with an upside down Y for a mouth. Around its neck was a pink checkered ribbon tied in a bow. He had had it ever since he was little, when his mother bought it for him at a fair - when she was still cognizant enough to go out in public without experiencing a panic attack or letting her delusions rule her decision making. It was at least two decades old, but looking at it, one could tell that it had been well cared for and loved. It had no stains or rips, and while the wool was getting a bit rougher with age, it was still soft for the most part.

He loved his plushies dearly. Like toys that were designed for stimming, his animals helped him calm down and relax, especially at night if he was antsy from a case or it had been a particularly stressful day at work. He didn’t like to broadcast his stimming at work, so he often resisted the urge and waited until he got home, where he could stim all he wanted to his heart’s content. He liked his routine. Sometimes the constant stress of his job could be overwhelming, and he didn’t eat as much or as often as he probably should have, but he was taking care of himself as best as he knew how. He had always been dependable, especially since he had been forced to grow up at a young age when his father left. 

His father’s leaving had definitely taken its toll, and growing up, he had been responsible for his own wellbeing as well as his mother’s. It was chaotic at times with little to no order, but the one constant that always had been there (and always would be, if Spencer had anything to do about) was his teddy bear. He knew it seemed childish, and he warred himself about it sometimes since he was a grown man who depended on a teddy bear to function. But the comfort it brought him rivaled the occasional thoughts of self-deprecation, and even though he kept that secret, he took it everywhere with him, hidden in the depths of his messenger back underneath of crime scene photos and case files.

And then he started dating Derek.

Derek Morgan, the ever impressive agent and his colleague who could have any woman that he wanted, had actually been the one to drop the question. He asked Spencer if he wanted to go to dinner one night after a normal day of work. Both pleasantly shocked and elated, Spencer agreed instantly. He had been nurturing his affection for Derek in private, letting it grow and sprout as their time together gradually turned into not-so-platonic interactions. Derek was a touchy person, and even though Spencer would usually avoid contact at all costs, when it was Derek, it wasn’t so bad. 

One of Derek’s favorite things to do was to caress his hair on the jet when they were on their way home after a long and stressful case. It was soothing, calming, and sometimes he found it hard to believe that the same fingers that gently combed through his chestnut curls had been wrapped around a handgun just hours before. 

That affection blossomed, and soon enough, they were in a full fledged relationship. They didn’t ever come out to the rest of the team, but Derek didn’t really try to keep it a secret either. He began to call him other pet names, and although pretty boy would forever be their mutual favorite, Spencer appreciated ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ too. He was amazed by how confident Derek was when it came to their relationship in public, because when they went out together, Derek always wanted to hold his hand and wrap an arm around him, but if Spencer was having a moment of touch aversion, he would never push it, and would allow Spencer to initiate the contact between them, and even if he couldn’t throughout the duration of the night, Derek never mentioned it.

The first time they had sex was incredible.

Derek was so gentle, so loving, and he took his time with Spencer since he was inexperienced in the realm of intimacy. Spencer had been with Ethan throughout the majority of his time in college, and over the years he had slept with a few men and women here and there, but most of those occasions were rare one night stands; he wasn’t in the double digits (possibly even triple) like Morgan was. But Derek assured Spencer that he wasn’t a number, he would never be, because this wasn’t just a hookup to him. He wanted it to be long term, and Spencer couldn’t be happier.

Their sex life was perfect. Spencer wouldn’t change a thing about it, because Derek really was the best partner for him. He cared about Spencer’s enjoyment and pleasure far more than his own, and on more than one occasion, Derek had spoiled Spencer without expecting him to return the favor.

“Sex isn’t a favor that needs to be returned, Spence,” Derek had chastised him after one of those times, his fingers cupping the sharp line of his jaw. They lay together, both naked beneath the soft sheets of Derek’s bed. Their legs lay intertwined together, Spencer’s toes curling against the back of Derek’s muscular calf. “It’s an honor, to be able to physically show my love for you.”

“You mean that?” Spence asked, raising his hand up to cup Derek’s hand over his rosy cheek, “It’s an honor?”

“An honor,” Derek confirmed, leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose, a smile spreading across Spencer’s face, “to love you.”

If Spencer had liked his routine before, he liked it even more now. Almost everyday after work, he spent the evening at Derek’s house, sharing dinner with him and spending the night the majority of days. Derek had been over to his apartment a few times, but they had never spent the night there together, much less had sex in his apartment. It was always at Derek’s house, not that that was a problem, but sometimes Spencer preferred the comfort of his own home.

But Spencer invited Derek to his apartment after work, and although Derek looked a little surprised, he instantly complied. They arrived together in the other man’s car since Spencer most often took the subway, and together they entered the organized chaos of his book-laden apartment. Even though it looked messy, everything was meticulously placed just as Spencer liked it. The stacks of books around the apartment were placed in alphabetical order and the ones on the shelves followed the Dewey decimal system. Derek knew better than to disturb his books; Spencer had threatened to get Penelope to hack his computer if he ever messed with his organization, and Derek was quick to surrender and kiss away the pout on Spencer’s lips.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Derek asked him, and Spencer instantly bobbed his head yes, a crooked smile on his face after Derek kissed him again. The two got comfy in their PJs (Derek used the ones from his go-bag). Spencer had on a pair of gray sweatpants and one of Derek’s sweatshirts, and Derek wore a black Nike basketball shorts and a tank top. The two made a bowl of popcorn to share and eventually settled in and watched a documentary on ocean life, but halfway through, their cuddling soon turned into a make-out session, nothing too wild, and both were pretty tame for the most part. Derek liked to touch Spencer’s legs, but Spencer pulled away from the kiss when he felt his touch traveling upwards, halting his partner by putting his hands over top of Derek’s when he remembered something quite crucial:

His stuffed animals were on his bed.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Derek asked, mouthing up the column of his neck, the alabaster skin flushed warmly. When Spencer didn’t respond right away, Derek pulled back immediately, scanning his lover’s face in concern. “Spence?”

“I just... I’m tired, Derek,” he said softly. Derek frowned, squeezing his hips gently and letting them rest there, not making any further moves to grope him. Of course Derek would be able to tell if something was wrong, Spencer realized, he was a behavioral profiler for Christ’s sake!

“Pretty boy,” he murmured, raising a hand up to touch his face gently, swiping a thumb over the arch of his cheekbone. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just... I don’t want you to think any less of me,” Spencer murmured elusively.

“Why would I ever think less of you?” he asked, and Spencer’s hands slid down from Derek’s bare shoulders to his biceps, feeling the muscles rippling under his touch. He didn’t offer a verbal response, simply shrugging lamely. The last thing he wanted was for Derek to think he was childish or immature, and he feared that his stuffed animals would send that impression.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine... But can you show me instead?” Derek asked, and slowly, unsurely, Spencer nodded his head. He stood up from the couch and away from Derek’s touch, and he collected his messenger back from the dining room table. He returned and set it down on the coffee table, lifting the flap and digging around before retrieving his teddy bear, holding it delicately in both hands for Derek to see. Derek frowned, looking over it briefly and then up towards Spencer, confusion clear on his face.

“Babe, I don’t... I don’t understand,” he said slowly, “You have a teddy bear? What about it?”

Spencer took a deep breath and slowly moved to sit down beside him, sitting the bear in his lap. “You don’t think it’s weird?” he asked quietly, looking down at its brown head while twirling the pink ribbon around his fingers. 

“Of course not,” Derek said, smiling gently at Spencer and reaching for his hand which Spencer took immediately.

“I have more, you know,” he blurted out, feeling like he was in a safe environment to reveal even more of his secret. But he was smiling brightly, unable to help the feeling of joy he felt since Derek didn’t think he was strange or childish.

“More?” he repeated, “As in, more teddy bears?”

“More stuffed animals,” he corrected before explaining further, “I like the texture of them. They’re soft and they help me calm down after a long day.”

“Oh yeah?” Derek hummed, “You stim with them?”

“Yeah,” Spencer said before shrugging, “They just... I don’t know. They make me feel safe, I guess. They comfort me.”

“I hope I can be a source of comfort for you too, pretty boy,” Derek said, leaning over and kissing his temple before resting his head against Spencer’s. The young doctor just smiled, holding his bear close.

“You already are.”

About a week later, on an off day, Derek invited Spencer over to his apartment so they could spend the day together. He was always excited to spend time with Derek. He always made him feel so giddy, and he could stim freely around Derek without feeling self-conscious or the fear of judgement. Once he made it to Derek’s house, he was waiting for him at the door and welcomed him in, closing the door behind him. 

“Hi, baby,” Derek said, hugging his lover and greeting him with a sweet kiss. Spencer smiled in response, hugging his lover around the waist. 

“Hi, Der,” he hummed, and they kissed again before separating. “I missed you,” he confessed.

“We saw each other yesterday,” Derek reminded him with a laugh, and Spencer just grinned and shrugged, letting Derek lead the way into the living room. On the coffee table sat a lavender box, but Spencer didn’t mention it until Derek reached for it and held it out to him. 

“I, um... I got you something,” he murmured, almost shyly, and Spencer blinked, confused.

“Why?” he asked, hesitantly accepting the box that he now realized was a gift box, a royal purple ribbon of silk tied around it carefully. 

“I thought you would like it,” Derek offered simply, guiding Spencer to sit down with him on the sofa. Confused yet secretly excited, pale dainty fingers opened up the box carefully, pulling the ribbon loose and lifting the lid. Inside lay a light brown teddy bear, another purple ribbon tied into a bow around its neck. Spencer slowly reached for it and lifted it out of the box, glancing back and forth between it and Derek.

“Do you like it?” Derek asked softly.

Spencer didn’t respond right away, twirling the ribbon around his fingers and looking into the bear’s black eyes, his head nodding of its own accord. He looked up towards Derek, holding it close with tears in his own light brown eyes.

“I love it,” he said, unable to help the few tears that fell from his eyes. It was such a small gift, but it meant so much to him that Derek thought about him enough to buy a present filled with so much meaning.

“I just... wanted to get you something that can comfort you when I can’t be there,” Derek said, moving to wrap an arm around Spencer’s waist comfortingly. Spencer smiled and leaned into his side, hugging the stuffed bear to his chest.

“I don’t think I’ll need it all that often,” Spencer said honestly, Derek’s hand gently wiping some of his tears away.

“Why’s that?” Derek asked in a gentle voice, and Spencer smiled, turning to meet his eyes.

“Because I have you,” he whispered, “I love you, Derek.”

“I love you too, baby,” Derek’s whisper soon followed, every ounce of love and affection dripping from his deep voice.

And the two shared a kiss, the soft brown bear between them.

[fallout4reactsblog]

A Very Commonwealth Christmas: Year Two

“Are we seriously doin’ this again?” Gage griped from his place beside the window. “It sucked last year.”

Ada shook her head. “Actually, by my calculations, the endeavor was a great success. Sole’s enthusiasm and overall happiness was far above predicted values. As such, it is only logical to repeat the exercise.”

Cait (who still refused to even look in Gage’s direction) huffed. “So long as we do somethin’ fun this year.”

Preston smiled gently, showing his infinite patience once again. “Of course. I wouldn’t ask you to do the same thing twice, so we’re switching things up a little. Is everyone familiar with the concept of Secret Santa?”

A mixed bag of responses came back.

“Well, it’s simple. I’ve written down everyone’s name on a piece of paper and put them in this hat.” He tipped the hat to show them the neatly folded squares of paper. “Each of us will draw a name, and you’ll get a gift for whoever you draw. Sole was worried that we didn’t exchange gifts ourselves last year, so this year we’re going to make that happen.”

“And what if we don’t like whoever we get?” X6 asked, not looking directly at Deacon, but the subtext was clear.

“You’ll just have to pretend. Remember, for the next few weeks, we’re all good friends as far as sole is concerned. We all get along.”

To Preston’s credit, he did manage to not glare at Gage, X6, or any of the others that were deemed “troublemakers,” but they got the message. He’d made plenty of threats last year if people didn’t get along, threats that were not empty and, undoubtedly, very much still on the table.

“But what about sole?” Piper asked. “Is their name in there?”

Preston shook his head. “They’re not playing. According to them, the effort of us playing is enough.”

Ada took the hat from Preston’ hands. “We will go in alphabetical order to draw names. Cait, you will draw first.”

Cait was at least kind enough to wipe her hands off, freeing them of the looser flakes of dried blood, before snatching out a name. It seemed that the reading lessons between her and Piper had been going well, because she didn’t ask what it said. That, or she was too proud to admit it.

Slowly, they passed the hat around. Some people were better at concealing their reactions than others; Deacon might as well have been wearing a mask for the emotion he showed, but Curie didn’t even try to hide her distaste for whoever she’d drawn.

“Alright, people.” Preston clapped his hands. “Because of the game, I’ve called in some extra help from the settlers to get the other preparations done. You should have plenty of time to get your presents. You’ve got a week.”

Ada

It was a pleasant surprise to have drawn MacCready, in her opinion. Though he wasn’t someone she’d spent much time around, he was a fairly easy man to understand. Plus, it was unlikely he’d be expecting much from her. After all, he would put more effort into his own family celebration than this one, and wouldn’t expect her to do anything but the same.

Still, a part of her wasn’t content with just getting something easy and moving on. That wasn’t the spirit of the game, now was it? But she couldn’t well talk to MacCready directly, so she hunted down the closest person to him.

“What would I want?” sole asked, wiping their hands off on a dirty rag. “Ada, you know that I’m not playing.”

“Of course. But you know all of us the best, do you not? And you have quite a lot in common with my partner.”

“Well, alright.” They leaned back against the workbench to think. “I mean, anything at all is enough to make me happy. A new coffee mug would be nice, though. I’ve been looking for one that’s shatterproof so I can just toss it in my bag on the road and not have to worry about it getting chipped or anything.”

“That is a helpful insight.” Already, her mind was working, thinking about things that could make life on the road easier. “Thank you.”

“Sure, anytime.” They turned back to the workbench. “Good luck.”

Cait

The evening found Cait curled up next the fire, beer in hand, bitching with Hancock about the whole thing.

“How am I supposed to know what Deacon wants?” she said, glaring at the bottle in her hand as if it was to blame. “I don’t know shite about him.”

“No one does. That’s his whole gimmick.”

“Makes him a shitty person to find a gift for, then, doesn’t it?”

“Just get him a box of ammunition or something. It’s a good, generic gift.”

She glared at him. “Do you even know if he uses a gun?”

“Well, now that you mention it, no. But there’s gotta be somethin’ like that that’ll work. Rad-X, or RadAway, or RadSomethingElse that he needs.”

With a sigh, she took another drink. “You reckon sole’ll mind?”

“They’ve gotta know how he is, right?”

She shook her head. “Who did you get, though?”

He crinkled what was left of his nose. “Guess.”

“Someone you don’t want, by the looks of it.”

“I’ve got the ol’ tin can himself.”

She snickered into her drink. “Bad luck.”

He let out a long sigh. “Anythin’ for sole, right? I’ll dig up a gift for crew cut, you find somethin’ for shitty James Bond, they’ll be happy and we’ll move on.”

“Yeah, sure. Anythin’ for sole.”

Codsworth

Of all the people that could’ve drawn Hancock, it had to be him.

Most people, of course, would take the easy way out. A box of chems would be more than enough to make him happy, and would be easy to procure in the Commonwealth. But it just didn’t sit right with him. It just wasn’t his style, so he needed a new idea.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to just get some drugs?” Farenheit asked.

“Positive.”

“Shit.” She blew out a long trail of smoke. “That makes things harder. Do you mind gettin’ your hands dirty?”

“I’ve been known to get into the occasional scrap.”

She nodded. “A while back, John lost his lighter to some punk, a raider or somethin’. He said it wasn’t a deal, never went and got it, but if you could get it back, I bet he’d like that.”

“And where is this hooligan now?”

“Last I heard, he was hiding out in Dunwich Borers.”

Not the safest place, but he could probably talk sole into going with him. After all, if they heard raiders had moved back in, they’d want to take care of business.

It was better than any plan he had, at least.

Curie

She wouldn’t have called herself a mean person usually. She liked to think of herself as someone who was generally kind and understanding, someone who was forgiving above all, someone who wouldn’t judge others based on rumor alone.

Porter Gage was her one (and only) exception. Which made her current situation awkward, to say the least.

Worse was that there wasn’t anyone to ask, was there? Except for sole, no one knew much about Gage, and those she was closest to happened to hate his guts on principle.

But for the next few weeks, that wasn’t allowed. She could harbor no ill will toward Gage, and instead had to consider him as just another friend of sole’s. Of course, usually that meant she would go straight to sole, but they were off-limits for direct questioning. They didn’t want to know who had drawn whom, which left her with only her own critical thinking to figure this one out.

While her critical thinking had not failed her, it seemed her own ability might.

“Sacre bleu,” she swore under her breath, staring down at probably half a dozen mirelurks. This area was supposed to be peaceful, and she’d hoped to track down some pre-war bug spray. It was no secret that he was no fan of insects, and as much as she hated to agree, these mirelurks were really starting to get on her nerves. Damn giant water bugs.

At least she had found the spray, and she was safe hiding up here in the rafters for the moment. How she was getting down was uncertain, and how she was going to dodge the mirelurks without losing a leg was also up in the air, but she’d gotten what she came for.

Danse

At least he had luck on his side. Of all the people to get a gift for, Cait had to be the easiest for him. She may not have liked him, necessarily, but he understood her better than he understood most of the others. The only better pull would have been Preston, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“I’m glad,” Preston said over breakfast. “Maybe it will help her warm up to you a little.”

“I wouldn’t be certain. I understand her hesitance; it’s a wonder to have been so widely accepted by your Minutemen.”

“Our Minutemen, now.” Gently, Preston tapped his shoulder with a fist. “But speaking of the game, I don’t suppose you’ve spent much time around Ada?”

Danse turned to him, surprised. “I would have thought you were more than equipped to be paired with Ada. After all, she has been the other primary organizer for the holidays around Sanctuary.”

“Yeah, but that’s all business.” Preston sighed. “I don’t think I know much about her as a person.”

“She seems to have affinity for the same kinds of junk that sole does. Perhaps something related to that?”

“Good idea.” He glanced up from the fire and smiled. “Thanks, Danse. I bet you’ll get a great gift for Cait.”

“I hope so. You’ll undoubtedly make an excellent selection for Ada as well.”

Deacon

“You’ve known sole a long time, huh?”

“But of course!” Codsworth says, dusting off the top of the fridge. “I have known sir/mum since even before the war. Before young Shaun was born, even!”

“And you’ve just stayed here this whole time?”

“Certainly. A Mr. Handy never abandons his post!”

“Must be hard.”

“It’s certainly not the easiest work, but I am happy to do it for sir/mum. It was easier before the war, when we had such modern amenities as vacuums and indoor plumbing, but I will endure for their sake.”

“That kind of loyalty’s hard to come by,” Deacon said, leaning back. “Sole’s lucky.”

Codsworth made a noise akin to a scoff. “They’d be luckier if they ever remembered to bring a new feather duster as I asked. I’ve been waiting months now.”

He shrugged. “They’ve got a lot on their mind. Little things lost in the mix. Happens to the best of us.”

It’s the nature of Mr. Handy’s to be talkative, which only gets worse when left alone for a couple hundred years. Still, at least it’s fun to stretch those interrogation muscles again. It’s been a while.

Gage

He knew this was rigged. It has to be. His luck wasn’t bad enough that, of all people, he drew Preston fucking Garvey out of that hat. Even worse, no one would trade with him; they said that it’s not the nature of the game. It was fuckin’ stupid.

So he was stuck with the one guy that hated his guts more than anything. Fuckin’ great. Worst part was, he would have to actually make an effort, because sole had been so thrilled he’d played nice last year, and the last thing he wanted was to get on their bad side. The Overboss’s anger was a dangerous thing, after all.

He hadn’t had much of a choice but to ask sole, despite their insistence on not knowing the pairs. An exception had to be made. After all, he wasn’t sure who else to go to, and they knew Garvey well enough to put him on the right track. Which left him here, digging around the catacombs in the Castle.

“Back in the day, there was a sword that the leader of the Minutement carried around,” sole had said. “Ronnie told me about it. I bet if you tracked it down and polished it up, he’d like that.”

So here he was, choking on dust, searching for some rusted-out piece of junk that probably didn’t actually exist.

“You’re doin’ this for sole,” he muttered, rummaging through a shelf that seemed to only have bags of cement.

Anything to dodge the Overboss’s wrath, even playing nice with fucking Garvey.

Hancock

The worst part was that he knew exactly where to start. He didn’t like it, oh no, in fact he hated it beyond belief. But he prided himself on giving good gifts, tin can or no, and this was a real easy one, if he could just make it work.

At least it was easy to convince sole. They’d gone out for a little bartering, he’d volunteered to come along, and from there it was easy enough to suggest they swing by the Prydwen to barter with Teagan and get paid for those technical documents. Both very time-consuming items, and both things that tended to draw attention once sole had their nice clothes on for bartering.

The nice thing about the Prydwen was that sole had keys to everything. All he had to do was “borrow” their key ring, find the right key, and he could stroll into Maxson’s living quarters like he owned the place.

His prize was easy to find. It seemed ol’ Arthur hadn’t moved on as well as he pretended; Danse’s holotags were sitting right on top of his desk, beside his terminal. They clinked as he picked them up. Sole had mentioned they’d had to turn them in to Maxson when Danse got exiled, and he’d noticed the former Paladin often reaching for a chain around his neck to find only empty air. Which made this gift the best anyone would be giving, hands down.

“Hey, there,” he muttered, turning them over to check the name. “We better get out of here before somebody sees us, huh?”

The nice thing about sole was that they were far too engrossed in bartering to even notice he’d been gone.

MacCready

What were you supposed to get a man that already had everything he needed? It wasn’t like coursers were supposed to want things anyway. Heck, did he even have use for anything except fusion cells?

Sole’s time being a precious commodity, it seemed, left him with three options (three fellow synths, if he was honest). One: Curie, the sweet scientist who had been a synth for about five minutes and had as little in common with X6 as anyone could, save for being a synth. Two: Nick, who didn’t like X6 and probably never would. Both bad choices which, tragically, left him with lucky number three.

Admittedly, since last years mutfruit disaster, he and Danse had upgraded from “I don’t like you, you don’t like me, and that’s fine by us” to “your presence around me isn’t the literal worst” which was a marked improvement. Still, he made the effort to catch Danse while he was working on his power armor, which meant he was probably in a half-decent mood and less likely to try to kill him.

“You sought me out for advice because I’m a synth?” Danse’s tone was not pleased. Surprise, surprise.

“Well, it’s not like you don’t have other stuff in common. You had your whole heart in an organization, too, and it gave you everything you needed.”

“When I was a Paladin, you mean.”

“Yeah. What would you have wanted?”

Danse sighed and shook his head. “As much as it pains me to admit, both Curie and I have observed that Generation Three synths seem to have a terrible fondness for Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. They were forbidden on the Prydwen due to their lack of nutritional content, and I would suppose the Institute is no different. If there is anything that X6-88 wants, that’s my best guess.”

“Snack cakes, huh? That’s... surprisingly easy.” He nodded. “I bet I could get my hands on a bunch in Diamond City, I bet. Thanks, Danse.”

“Of course. Happy to help.”

Nick

It seemed to be his lucky day, because his partner was someone he knew well, and had already planned on getting a gift for: none other than Diamond City’s favorite reporter. He’d gotten Piper a gift probably every year, and already knew exactly what he wanted and where to find it. Lucky him.

“Do you think I should do rose this year?” he asked Ellie, crouched to peer into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. He’d stowed away at least twenty years of perfume in there, specifically for Piper.

“You went floral last year,” she said. “Do you want to repeat yourself?”

“That was more lilac than rose,” he grumbled, but pushed the perfume in hand to the back.

“I don’t think we’ve tried anything citrus-y yet.” She hopped off the desk where she was sitting to look, too. “There’s a nice one somewhere in there. What’s it called? Fresh something?”

“Fresh Citron de Vigne.” He pulled the bottle out of the back. “This one was pretty popular before the war.”

“It might be nice to switch things up for her so she doesn’t smell like a florist all the time.”

He nodded. “All that’s left is to wrap it.”

“I’ll take care of that.” She plucked the bottle from his hands. “All you’re going to do is make yourself frustrated when you rip the paper.”

He glared down at his metal fingers, which tended to wreak havoc on anything delicate, especially wrapping paper. “Thanks, Ellie.”

“You can thank me by giving her my gift while you’re up there.”

Piper

The only real question was black or brown, but that was rapidly turning into one hell of a dilemma.

“He’ll like either of them,” Nat said from the couch. “That’s why you got them.”

“I know. I just don’t remember if I gave him a black tie last year.”

She couldn’t see Nat roll her eyes, but she could feel it. “Just ask Ellie. She’ll tell you.”

“Maybe I should give him the blue one to be on the safe side.”

“The one with the little cats on it?”

“Ugh, I forgot about the cats.” She tossed both ties onto her desk with a heavy sigh. “Why did I even get that one?”

“Hey, you don’t know that he won’t like it until you try.”

She shot her sister a scathing glare. “I’m not going to embarrass him in front of everyone with the blue kitty tie. If it was just us, maybe, but now it’s a whole event and I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Which means it’s black or brown.”

Nat was unfazed by her sister’s glare. “Well, which one do you like better?”

“The black one.”

“So give him that one.”

“But I might have given him a black one last year.”

"So give him the brown one.”

“But I like the black one better.”

Nat sighed dramatically. “He’s not gonna care, Piper. It’s Nick and a tie. He’s gonna like it no matter what.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to think I can only get one color of tie.”

“You’re overthinking this. Here, give me both ties.”

Reluctantly, she handed them over and watched them disappear behind Nat’s back.

“Okay, right hand or left hand?”

“Right.”

“Brown it is.” Nat handed over the tie. “There, problem solved.”

She took the tie back and looked at it a moment.

“You know what, I think I’ll do the black one.”

Preston

Sewing was a nice, therapeutic exercise. After a long day of working on putting up lights and assembling trees and assigning cooking duties, it was nice to be able to come home and return to a project. Sole had told him about jigsaw puzzles once, and he figured this was probably a lot the same.

He’d designed this backpack specifically for Ada, less as an independent bag and more as something that could function in conjunction with the bags she already carried. It had been a uniquely challenging idea, and he’d spent quite a few nights on it before finalizing his pattern and beginning to actually cut into some leather.

Overall, it was coming along nicely. He figured it would be done well in time for the celebration. He hoped everyone else was progressing on schedule; if one of them showed up without a gift, well, he didn’t know what he would do. The idea that one of them would disappoint sole had crossed his mind more than once, and he swore to himself that if anyone failed to perform this year, they’d suffer the consequences. He just wasn’t sure what those consequences actually were.

He shook his head. No use in worrying about it before it happened. The best he would probably get would be a stern talking-to anyway, and maybe the chance to punch somebody in the face. Sole wouldn’t want him hurting any of their friends on their behalf.

Besides, depending on whoever their partner was that this hypothetical asshole had wronged, he might not have to do anything. He couldn’t see Cait letting it slide, that was for sure, and Danse believed so heavily in being a person of honor that he wouldn’t tolerate it either, no matter who had gotten screwed over.

In the end, he probably wouldn’t have to do anything, and that put a smile on his face.

X6

“You want what?”

He tried to not let his face betray him as he stared down Dr. Holden in the corner of the Bioscience division.

“A full lab kit for above-ground experimentation. Orders from the future director.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie; sole wanted him to participate in this silly game, which meant they had essentially “ordered” him to get a gift. What could a scientist want more than a full, top-of-the-line lab kit from the Institute?

“But not Father.”

He peered down at the doctor. “If you are refusing, Dr. Holden, I will report back to sole. I’m certain they will be happy to come themselves, or send word along to Father of your refusal.”

Dr. Holden huffed, and he saw the tiniest spark of fear in his eyes. “I didn’t refuse. I just wish they’d go through proper channels when requesting equipment, that’s all.” He scratched a few words on a piece of paper and handed it over. “There. That’ll get you everything you need.”

He said nothing, just took the paper coldly. Not for the first time, he appreciated that sole had authorized him to act on their behalf. For one, it showed trust, and it also made getting around much, much easier. All he had to do was mention their name, which carried the full force of the director’s office, and everyone was willing to acquiesce.

All he had to do now was make sure nothing broke. Glass was a difficult thing to transport, after all. He could relay straight back to Sanctuary, but Curie might see him, and the point was that the gift was a secret, hence the name “Secret Santa.” He could relay to the nearby Red Rocket, but that left him further to go, and more at risk of things breaking.

Decisions, decisions.

The Exchange

Shockingly, everyone had managed to get their gifts wrapped. Granted, some were better than others; Deacon still dominated with his perfect, sharp creases and hand-folded bow, where X6 might as well have just put his gift in a trash bag, but in the end it was the thought that counted.

Everyone had gathered in the newly established meeting hall of Sanctuary Hills, where sole had spent the last few days placing enough chairs and tables for everyone to be comfortable, as well as a few rugs to make the place feel cozy. They’d even made a fireplace appear out of nowhere, no easy feat, and with the settlers’ decorations it really did feel festive. Sole themself was seated by the fire, curled up with Dogmeat at their feet, and their eyes sparkled to see the gifts their friends had brought.

“Well, go on.” They waved their hands encouragingly. “Let me see what you did. I might be more excited than all of you are. Who’s going first?”

“It will be alphabetical,” Ada said, standing. “I will go first.”

She made her way to MacCready, who looked honestly surprised to see a gift appear in his lap.

“Ah, thanks. I’ll just, uh, open this.”

He tore into the paper and opened up the generic cardboard box, furrowed his eyebrows, and pulled out a series of small plastic jars.

“I have noticed you have an affinity for cooking,” she said. “I thought you might appreciate some new spices to try while on the road. It will be very difficult for you to break or spill them while traveling, as they are all in childproof containers.”

“That’s... surprisingly thoughtful.” He shook a container of dried parsley as if trying to figure out what it was. “Thanks.”

“Okay, my turn.” Cait clapped her hands and stood up. “Thanks for not changing your look again, Deacon. I’ll at least be able to find you.”

She dropped the box in his hands unceremoniously. “Don’t complain if it’s not somethin’ you want. You’re not the easiest guy to get a gift for.”

“Well, I appreciate the effort at least,” he said, peeling away the practically mangled wrapping. “If you ever want some lessons on wrapping paper, though, I’m happy to- oh.”

He pulled out a leather jacket, turning it around so that sole could see Cait had made the effort to track down the Atom Cats. A smile quirked his lips.

“Actually been looking at one of these for a while.” He gave Cait a real smile, this time. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she huffed, clearly embarrassed. “I mean it.”

“Which brings us to me! Here you are, Mr. Hancock. One present, as promised.”

“It’s light,” Hancock commented wrily, shaking the box. “You didn’t get cheap on me, didja?”

“But of course not. I simply went for something more personal.”

“Personal?” He raised what was left of an eyebrow as he unceremoniously tore through the wrapping paper. “How did you manage that little trick?”

Codsworth waved an arm dismissively. “I have my ways.”

“Well, shit, I guess you do.”

He pulled the lighter out twirled it in his fingers and gave it an experimental light. It flicked on with ease.

“I guess you refilled it too, huh? That’s really somethin’.”

“So that’s why you drug me out to Dunwich Borers,” sole said, laughing. “I knew something was up.”

“Certainly not,” Codsworth replied, but his tone betrayed that if he could have laughed, he would have.

“Ah, I suppose that means it is my turn, non?” Carefully, Curie picked her way over to Gage. “Happy holidays, Monsieur.”

“Thanks, I guess.” He took it uncertainly. “This isn’t a bomb or anything, is it?”

“Of course not!” She sounded genuinely offended. “It is a gift, and not one that is easy to procure.”

“Just bein’ careful.” He still shook out the can more carefully than was probably necessary.

“Bug spray,” she explained. “It should repel the overly large insects you so dislike.”

Gage actually looked surprised. “I.. shit. Thanks.” He turned his head to the wall, obviously embarrassed. “Whoever’s next...”

“That would be me.” Shockingly, Danse had actually ditched his power armor for the day, at sole’s request. “Here you are, Cait. I hope it proves useful to you.”

She seemed hesitant, but accepted wordlessly, peering into the box. There was silence for a long moment, then she said, “I thought you only knew how to mod energy weapons.”

“I made an exception. That should provide you with exceptional damage and a better rate of fire for your shotgun.”

Cait could only shake her head, say, “Thanks,” and wave for the next person to go.

Deacon took his cue and handed his gift off to Codsworth. “There you go, buddy. Happy holiday.”

“Mr. Deacon.” Codsworth sounded all too pleased. “I should have known.”

Deacon shrugged. “Don’t beat yourself up. At least you know you got what you wanted.”

“How thoughtful!” Codsworth turned to sole. “You needn’t search for a new feather duster any longer sir/mum.”

They nodded, impressed. “I had forgotten I was supposed to be looking for one. Good work, Deeks.”

“Hey, you’ve got a lot on your plate boss.” He shot them a quick set of finger guns. “I’m just helping out with the little stuff.”

There was silence for a long moment before sole said, “Gage, I think it’s you.”

“What, already? Alright.”

He stood up, and when he paused in front of Preston, the room froze. No one even dared to breathe as he handed off the box, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, Gage was the only person Preston seemed actively willing to shoot at any time. This could only mean a fight.

“Happy holidays, Garvey.” He almost sounded genuine.

Preston accepted, understandably cautiously. “Thanks, Gage. Happy holidays.”

But when the paper was off, and the box was opened, Preston’s hesitation vanished into thin air. 

“How the hell did you even find this?” he breathed, slowly pulling the sword from its sheath. It glinted in the firelight.

“Ah, it was no big deal.” Gage’s face was smug, and he leaned back in his chair with confidence. “You guys shouldn’t leave important relics just sitting around.”

And to everyone’s surprise, especially Gage’s, Preston rose from his chair to offer Gage a handshake.

“Thanks,” he said. “For real.”

For a second time, Gage was stunned into silence before taking Preston’s hand and breathing, “Don’t mention it. That’s the game, right?”

Sole shot Gage a discreet thumbs-up as Preston settled back into his seat, and the poor guy could only nod.

“Well, ain’t that touching?” Hancock leaned over to pass off the small box to Danse, who had somehow ended up seated directly across the circle from him. “There ya go, crew cut. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Danse nodded. “I won’t.”

Sole shot Hancock a warning look as Danse carefully unwrapped it, and he winked in reply, as if to say, “Trust me.”

Danse quite literally choked.

As he pulled the chain out, the box fell from his hands, leaving the holotags in the open air. Sole gasped from their place by the fire, realizing exactly what Danse was holding, and Hancock let his smile widen.

“These should be on board the Prydwen,” he breathed, turning them over in his hands. “They should have been destroyed.” Teary eyes turned toward the mayor of Goodneighbor. “How did you...”

Hancock leaned closer to Danse, clearly enjoying his moment. “Well, it didn’t make much sense that they were on Maxson’s desk if they’ve got your name on ‘em. After all, they’re yours. What does he need them for?”

Danse leaned forward, too, pulling Hancock into a bone-crushing hug. “You could have died. If you had been caught...”

“But I wasn’t.” John Hancock truly looked like that cat who’d eaten the canary. “Happy holidays, Danse.”

“Thank you, John,” Danse replied, and his tone was sincere, without the hint of malice that usually accompanied any of his interactions with Hancock. “Happy holidays.”

Preston patted Danse’s shoulder as he let go, but still managed to shoot an impressed look across the circle at Hancock. Hancock made a peace sign at him, still grinning.

“Well, shoot,” MacCready said. “That makes me next, but I feel kinda stupid about my gift, now.”

He opted to deposit the clearly heavy box at X6′s feet instead of in his lap. It was by far the largest gift, and shockingly neat in its wrapping. He dusted his hands, said, “It’s heavy,” and returned to his seat.

“I admit that I have no clue what this is,” X6 said, prodding the box gently. “It looks too large to be fusion cells, which is what I thought it would be.”

MacCready smiled, just a little. “Maybe it’s a lot of fusion cells. Why don’t you find out?”

X6 carefully unwrapped the gift, and only just managed to open the box before his head shot up.

“Is this whole box full of them?”

“You betcha.”

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Sole protested from the corner, “I can’t see what it is.”

“It’s snack cakes.” X6 held up a box indicatively. “They’re difficult for me to acquire, due to the Institute’s strict supervision of my diet, but a vice among gen three synths. I’ve never seen so many in one place.”

MacCready, to his credit, managed not to look too smug at the courser’s apparent wonder.

Nick stood. “Here you go, Piper. I suppose you know what it is. Here’s Ellie’s, while we’re at it, but you can open it later.”

She laughed and held out a hand to stop him from returning to his seat. He looked at her, bemused

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head and reached under her chair to hand off her gift to him. “Some luck, huh? Happy holidays, Nick.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Some luck, indeed. Happy holidays, Piper.”

They opened at the same time, Piper saying, “Oh, this is a new one,” at the same time Nick said, “Well, how classy.”

They held their gifts up in sync for sole to see, though Piper was still reading the label of her perfume.

“Citrus, huh? This’ll be nice for a change of pace. I haven’t had anything citrus-y before.”

“It’s been a while since I got a new black tie,” Nick replied, examining it. “I like the pattern. It’s subtle.”

“I can’t believe you both drew each other,” sole cut in, though they didn’t seem disappointed. “I bet you’d already planned to do gifts anyway.”

They nodded in unison.

“This does make things a little easier, though,” Piper said. “We didn’t have to set our own date this way.”

Sole shook their head. “Preston, we’re to you.”

“Sure. Here you go, Ada.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I have tried to predict what this would be, but had some difficulty, especially in the situation where you were the gift giver. I am curious, to say the least.”

“Well, I hope you like it.”

She cracked it open, albeit with some difficulty, before declaring. “This was not among the options I predicted.” She drew it from the box to examine it better. “How thoughtful. It even appears to be designed to work in tandem with my current storage.”

“That’s the idea. I know it’s not much, but I hope you can at least get some use from it.”

“To the contrary. You designed this yourself, and took the time to create it. I can see you’ve even stitched my initials along the straps, as well as the initials of those formerly in my caravan. The details and the effort make it quite touching.”

Preston knew Ada well enough to know that he had gotten the best possible response, emotion-wise, and turned to X6 with everyone else.

“Well, you all already know who this is for.” He carefully passed the box over to Curie, who beamed.

“Merci.”

He nodded, not entirely coldly, and she began to remove the paper with a surgeon’s precision, letting out a gasp when she’d opened the box.

“Oh, Monsieur! This is- I have not seen such fine materials since before the war. Where did you find them?”

“They’re top quality, designed for Institute scientists.” A hint of pride lingered in his voice. “I knew you would like them.”

“Yes, I like them very much! I cannot wait to work with new glassware again, it has been so long.”

Sole sighed contentedly from their chair, drawing their attention. “I’m so proud of you guys. I knew it was a risk asking you to do this, but I’m glad you could put aside your differences, at least for a while. Honestly, this has gone better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Anything for you, General,” Preston replied. “You’ve been more than helpful in putting us on the right track.”

They shook their head. “I was happy to do it. It showed me you were all really trying, when I thought we’d be seeing nothing but boxes of ammo. You all went above and beyond, and for that, I salute you.”

They picked up their glass and raised it to the room, smile still lingering on their face. “To all of you, for taking the time and energy, both physical and emotional, to indulge me. I’m beyond proud to call you my friends, and more proud to call you my family.”

“Happy holidays, everyone.”

[mistaeq]

➵ fugo + katherine's fluff alphabet [@pr3sa 's birthday gift]

pannacotta fugo x katherine lancaster [@pr3sa 's vento aureo OC]

arguments: fugo's a feral man, so his anger issues would be really triggered, if he happened to argue with kathie. luckily, he's learning to manage his issue, thanks to his wife directly, and he'd never do anything to her while angry.

babies: he keeps on denying it, but he's a better father than he likes to admit. he's always saying he's the worst, but the truth is kathie is grateful everyday, for he's the man whose children she gave birth to.

cuddles: pannacotta's a sweet man, but i won't deny katherine probably has to be the one to pull him into a well deserved session of cuddles. he's never sure about it at first, but as he gets used to his wife's arms' warmth, he'd rather not go away. just like showering.

dora's random hc: okay here's an interesting headcanon about katherine and fugo. katherine is best blueberry girl with an amazing voice and amazing skill with music, super beautiful girl, and fugo's just a lucky hoe because he gets to kiss her everyday. fuck you fugo. oh and their creator is awesome. like really.

effects: fugo changed completely when he got to know kathie. she always accepted him the way he was, and as a way to thank her, the boy trusted her completely and evolved day by day into the new man he is.

first date: you know how pannacotta's iq is incredibly high and stuff? well, throw it all out of the window, because during his first date with kathie, his words got stuck in his mouth the whole time, and couldn't manage to pour his heart out properly.

giggle: everyone admitted that since katherine and fugo started dating, the man's become way more lighthearted about stuff, and thanks to her, he can be heard giggling even at midnight, probably thinking of an inside joke of theirs.

honesty: he knows how much his wife suffered for men lying about their intentions in her regards, but he's always been more than honest about his love and appreciation for her.

indoor: sometimes the couple happens to be stuck indoors because of bad weather, for example. when they don't cuddle, fugo would probably try to get katherine involved in playing a board game. chess and monopoly are his favourites.

jealousy: he used to be jealous of the gang at first, but now he trusts both his friends and above all his wife. still, when a man he doesn't know gets too close to her, fugo sometimes gets suspicious or worried. just until his doubts don't disappear.

kiss: oh please katherine, shower this man in kisses and tell him he's worth a lot, fugo will melt. pannacotta enjoys being kissed more than being hugged. kisses are part of those kind of things he sees as more intimate than hugs, just like lovemaking and so on.

love letter: pannacotta is so shy, come on. under that thick layer of anger, lies one of the shyest people ever. he'd definitely use love letters to communicate his love to kathie sometimes. not the most romantic she's ever read, but she's happy.

miss you: oh man. those times when they've been apart after fugo left the gang. without katherine by his side, pannacotta felt just like his life could be ruined. he could have gone with them, he could have protected her. fuck. he was regretting his actions so much, praying he would have been able to see her again, alive.

newborn: after kathie gives birth to their newborn baby twins, he feels like he could run around the moon with his bare feet only and come back on earth. he's gonna definitely cry, maybe just not in front of his wife. man is so happy he can't hold back.

oh no: he doesn't pull many pranks on katherine. she's definitely and easygoing girl, but he knows he lived through some traumatic experiences, and doesn't want to scare her, even for a prank only. he just does innocent stuff like hiding her shoes or eating her favourite pastry before her, but not much more.

presents: pannacotta is the one who knows katherine's tastes the most, out of all of passione's member, but he's gonna need other members' help to choose the presents for her, for fear of getting something she already has or something she'll dislike.

qualities: he fell in love with katherine because she never criticized him for his personality. she listened to fugo's story, she supported the man's effort to get better, and never ever tried to change him or rush him into eliminating anger from his life. she's respectful and he cherishes it.

reading: he's not perfect, but pannacotta can definitely tell when his better half is down or is in a bad mood. what he does is sitting next to her and and gently asking what's up. if he can help, he'll definitely not move until he manages to.

stand: oh, purple haze loves kathie, it's just a little worried about what it might do to her with its uncontrollable anger. it wouldn't be the first time that stand goes berserk when it shouldn't. pannacotta loves seeing and being with the pied piper, though...

together: fugo likes to eat together with kathie, otherwise his will to eat disappears, it's almost like children who refuse to do something unless a specific adult is with them. a day on which she wasn't there, the gang had to put a photo of her next to the table.

unexpected: he would learn to dance for katherine, since she loves so much to make people dance with her pied piper. at least he'd do it with cognition and sense, when it happens. it would be a big surprise for kathie.

vacation: being part of an organization like passione, they wouldn't have much time to think about a vacation. but for pannacotta, every day spent at home with his wife instear of being in the streets, fighting against other stand users, is a well deserved vacation from fear and from danger.

wedding: during the marriage ceremony, he'd have a huge smile on his face, which is a coping mechanism in order not to cry out of happiness. he doesn't want to breakdown in front of his new wife and in fronf of all the guests, but he'd be so thankful to kathie, it will be difficult to resist.

e(x)es: well, fugo hates every man who had to do with katherine before and would love to see them perish for how they treated the most amazing woman of his life. so yeah, he won't even have to worry about exes coming back to her. he'll kill them, in case.

year: oh, his head would go crazy thinking about what to do for an anniversary. pannacotta has so many ideas about a romantic date, that every single one of them starts looking too simple for such an amazing girl as kathie. he doesn't realize she'll be happy with anything he does.

zzz: after the first time you sleep together, he doesn't want to ever stop, he feels happier and calmer if katherine sleeps beside him, so he can easily know if she's fine and whether she's sleeping calmly, dreaming or having nightmares. nighttime matters a lot to him.

[thesquishywizard]

How to make a Grimoire!

This took me a week to compile so if you enjoy it and want to support me, this a link to my ko-fi!

Hey there, I’m Ismo the Squishy Wizard, and today I want to talk about how you could go about making a grimoire for yourself. Grimoires are very personal despite being for information and reference, so it is understandable that some of my advice just won’t fit your way of doing things. The following advice is based on my experiences and the experiences of other magical practitioners and witches I have spoken to or watched on youtube, so hopefully you can avoid some problems we have ran into.

What is the difference between a grimoire and a book of shadows (BoS)?

A grimoire is often only a magical reference book while a book of shadows is not only a magical reference book, but also a diary, record of magical activities and ultimately, whatever you make of it. The reason why you might want one more than the other is purely down to personal taste.

A grimoire will detail what things mean, their origins, uses and personal associations. It is in an order that will help the witch easily find what they’re looking for, whether that is in alphabetical order, simplicity to complexity, importance to you or some other personal order. Grimoires tend to be quite formal, being written in highly decorated documents on a computer, high quality notebooks, scrapbooks or sketchbooks.

A book of shadows may do all that too but also include records of daily practice, experiences with deities or spirits, personal reflection and introspection, thoughts and questions about the craft, results of spells and maybe dreams too. It generally is in order of learning and experiencing so can be slightly harder to navigate for reference for some people. Books of shadows tend to be more casual and some people write them in old school books and notebooks. Some people separate things further and put dreams and personal reflection and introspection in a book of mirrors, so that might be a good thing to think about.

Other people don’t define grimoires and BoS in this way and see it as two terms for the same concept and use “BoS” and “grimoire” interchangeably, so this may still be useful advice for those making a BoS. Neither a BoS or a grimoire is better universally, it is about what is best for you and the way you practice.

I personally have a grimoire and a magical diary as two seperate books!

Why might you want a grimoire?

Grimoires are useful for compiling knowledge all in one place, in a language you understand and work well with. With a grimoire, you might not feel the need to get several books out, just your grimoire because you will have used your knowledge and experience and the authors of those other books experiences when writing information in your grimoire. It also allows you to remove any jargon you don’t understand or add useful diagrams and pictures if you are a visual learner. A grimoire still shouldn’t be your only book, always continue learning and researching with others’ insights, grimoires are just more compact and quick for when you quickly need to find something out or need a bit of help. However, you don’t need a grimoire, if you think a book of shadows, a magical diary or just using pre-existing books is more useful to you, don’t make a grimoire. Grimoires can be an awful lot of work, only make one if you feel like you need it and are going to use it.

Don’t instantly begin making a grimoire, wait at least three months

A grimoire holds all the information that is important to your craft and though the beautiful, awe inspiring pictures of grimoires get a new witch raring to go, it is probably not best to make a grimoire yet. Making a book of shadows or a simple diary would probably be more useful and less overwhelming to begin with and you can still record new knowledge you come across, it is still important to learn and research as this is what will get you ready to make a grimoire.

Trying to make an organised, informative grimoire when you are still new to the craft can be very hard and may cause you to include misinformation or elements of witchcraft that are simply not relevant to your life soon after looking into them, as a witch’s practice changes a lot drastically in the first year or two, and their path will still change, but often just slighter, through their whole life.

This might mean that whole sections of your grimoire are never used, putting your hard work to waste. Some witches don’t start making their grimoire until they are years into their path, as they are now more sure of their beliefs, the way they practice and their thoughts on things so they can guarantee everything is of use to them, and should be for a long time.

I started my first grimoire five months into my path but I honestly should have done it later, as my path underwent some drastic changes only six months later (so eleven months into my path), but I’ve had a very stable path for about a year now so I’m currently making a new grimoire. Now I’m learning additional things, so I feel more comfortable starting my grimoire again. I’ve not learnt things that reshape my whole way of thinking and practice for quite a bit, though this can still happen at any point in your journey and it should be welcomed with open arms, but just a warning, that sort of thing is more likely to happen early on in your path.

Research and meditate on your findings!

To work out what path you want to take and how that may inform what goes into your grimoire, you need to research. You’ve probably heard before that the first step to anything in witchcraft is research which is very true and the sooner you start researching the quicker you’ll be able to understand and confidently start your grimoire. Bookmark websites, stick post-it notes and bookmarks in your books, or even begin collating your information into a computer document or writing it down in your diary or BoS. 

Experience being a witch before beginning to write your grimoire, try out those spells, try out those ideas, you may find that they simply don’t work for you or mesh right with your personal experiences or you may find that you’re a lot more into that area than you first thought you would be and you need to do deeper research and learn even more! Explore the world around you and record it in your diary, BoS, phone or elsewhere. Get to know the plants common in your area and therefore useful in your practice, the constellations in the sky, the food you can make, anything, just get to know what you like. Also make sure you fully understand a subject before deciding to put it in your grimoire, I’ve known witches who have written about things such as chakras, only to later find the western model of chakras is very warped from their Hindu and Tantric Buddhism origins and I myself have written about plants that are native to the Americas, despite me being British and having no way to access them because I didn’t properly research. 

When researching information, always think about whether it is relevant to you and whether you enjoy it. It can be tempting to research anything and everything but you might get burnt out and find the craft overwhelming that way and also some things are from closed practices. You should always check if something is from a closed practice, even if it seems to be commonly used.

Always use multiple resources even when it comes down to something as simple as latin names. The book I was using for British plants and wildflowers was written in the 1910s, which meant some latin names had changed so I crossed referenced every one with both British wildflower websites and wikipedia.

Drafting and planning your grimoire

Once you’ve collected some reliable resources and you feel comfortable in your understanding of the subjects that you’re interested in, you could start planning out your grimoire.

I recommend planning your grimoire so you don’t get overwhelmed by all of the things you want to put into it and how you want to present it.

First, think about what medium you want to construct your grimoire in, do you want it to be a digital grimoire? Or maybe in an actual book? Both? Next, think about the order you want everything in, though it isn’t yet made, plan it out something like a contents page. Make sure the order of things makes sense to your brain. Also, maybe have a little think about the future, maybe you could futureproof your book if you know there are areas that you want to look into one day or look into further and take into account the extra room you might need.

If you choose to make a physical grimoire, consider making a first draft before the finished project. You can do this in an old notebook or digitally. Mistakes are made and you don’t want to fumble your words so you could write it in full before writing it in your book, but many just plan a series of points they wish to cover. I planned mine in full in google docs, just without pictures. This meant I had all my knowledge and research already compiled and worded in a way I was happy with, I can often mess up my wording on the fly.

If you choose to make a digital grimoire you don’t have to worry as much about drafting, but it’s still important to make a structured plan for how you will organize things within your grimoire. Moving sections about can be a bit tricky! It’s also a good idea to choose which program you want to make your grimoire in, make sure it’s one you know how to use well so you don’t get frustrated, making a grimoire is meant to be fun. Some people enjoy using an art program to digitally draw and write their information, then they print them out! Some people instead use something like a google doc or document program, adding information in the form of text, pictures or charts but keeping it digital.

Tips for actually making your grimoire!

If you’ve planned a physical grimoire, it might be a good idea to get a larger book than you expect to actually need! You will keep using this book in the future, and continue to add information to it. You don’t want to run out of space when you have something really cool to talk about! As previously said, you could also futureproof it by leaving spaces or whole pages blank for extra information or new subjects.

A digital grimoire doesn’t mean a dull grimoire! Download some free fonts, lots of free witchy fonts exist and can really inject more of you into your document. There’s also lots of free photo websites or you could take your own photos and put them in your document. It doesn’t have to be all text in times new roman. I really like ‘Adalind’! https://www.fontspace.com/category/witch 

Some people find it is a good idea to source their information, especially when they are using their experiences and the experiences of several other people. This means that things can be checked later, years into the future if you are confused as to why something might be so.

You don’t have to know how to draw well to make a physical grimoire! You can print out pictures, you can take pictures out of magazines or books, or you can use something like postcards, tea cards, trading cards, lots of things! Don’t just restrict yourself to photos and drawings you’ve done.

Pressing flowers and leaves can be a wonderful idea for a physical grimoire, especially if you don’t have access to a printer or you feel like your art skills aren’t there. It can also give your grimoire that field journal feel! However, pressing flowers and leaves can mean some colour loss. To retain the most colour, keep the plants pressed for two or three weeks in a warm room. Most small flowers or leaves in a warm room will be pressed after just under a week. Never press a plant for more than a year, you don’t need to wait that long and also you run the risk of making your sample brittle. You could also laminate leaves (but not flowers, the heat seems to mess them up) and this seems to retain the colour better.

When making a physical grimoire, if using a book, make sure the book has a thick, sturdy cover, the book might get damaged with a soft cover, so a hard card, leather or even cork cover is a good idea to look out for when selecting your book. When selecting a book, never go for a type of binding known as ‘perfect binding’, as it uses glue to bind the pages to the cover. With the nature of grimoires, they tend to puff out quite a bit with all the flaps, pictures and pressed samples, which can break the inflexible glue binding. A good binding is wire or spiral bound, this means you can completely fold the pages over, reducing the total spread of the book on a work surface at any given time. Another good type of book is screwpost binding, here screws that can be easily screwed in and out hold the book together or alternatively bits of string to bind the book instead of the screws (this is my book’s binding). You can take the bits out and punch holes in your paper to increase the total amount of canvas you have to work with, it’s a lot like a ring binder, except it’s a book! Lastly, another common type of grimoire binding is section sewn, this is usually found in handmade leather grimoires. It’s virtually impossible to add paper to these, but they’re very sturdy and look quite magical. You can also bind your own books this way!

If you choose to make a ring binder grimoire, try to get a sturdy, high quality one. Many ring binders rings can’t actually match up, which can shred your paper as they pass over these sharp points. Also keep in mind a sturdy cover, some ring binders have a thin flexible plastic sheet, but cardboard or even wooden covers are out there and are a bit better at protecting your work.

If you plan to use multi-media methods of creating your grimoire, or heavy types of ink, I suggest you go for a heavyweight type of paper, something like a high quality notebook or sketchbook will be good. Handbound artisan books tend to come with heavyweight thick paper, so you don’t have to worry about those too much. Loose leaves of heavy paper can be bought from art shops if you are making a ring binder grimoire or need to add pages to a screwpost binding style book and are also using heavy inks, paints or making it scrapbook style.

Through all this, remember that the grimoire is primarily meant for you, you aren’t making it for other people, so don’t beat yourself up if it isn’t the most aesthetic and gorgeously professional thing ever. There’s a lot of pretty grimoires online for inspiration, but try not to just completely copy their work, or constantly compare your own creation to other peoples. They likely have been making grimoires for a very long time. As long as it gets the job done and makes you happy, that’s all that matters. It should be a little piece of yourself that looks and feels like you. 

Things to possibly include in your grimoire

Witches never have to do all of these, it is your path so pick and choose what inspires you!

Most grimoires have a title page including the date it was started and your magical name if you have one.

Some people include an invisibility sigil to prevent prying eyes, a curse that punishes them for looking or a warning that this book isn’t for them. Others bless their book!

Many people have a contents page so they can remember where to find the information they need.

A lot of witches include a personal introduction, explaining what brought them to the craft, a bit about who they are, favourite things like herbs, crystals and colours, any familiars they work with or any magical abilities they have. Some people almost make a little correspondence page about themselves, including key herbs, a natal chart, their birth tarot card and personal sigil.

Not all magical practitioners work with deities in their craft or are religious at all, but if you are, having a section about your deity or whole pantheon is a good idea. Write about what your deity acts like, what they are the deity of/over, things they enjoy as offerings or how you came to first begin working with them.

If you follow a wheel of the year or have celebrations, a page on these is a good idea. What does the celebration represent? What are some ideas for activities to do then? What does it mean to you?

Some people have a series of morals or tenants they follow and believe in. Maybe write down yours for your path.

The main chunk of the grimoire should be about what you work with. This could be plants, food, crystals, animals, colours, astrology, planetary magic, fair folk, magical creatures and much more! For each entry, explain the concept’s or item’s correspondences and uses, whether that be the common use or your personal uses and associations, what the item is like, where to find it, folklore about it, non-magical and mundane uses and maybe how to make it if it is something like food.

Another big chunk is often common spells, potions, practices or rituals you do and how to do them. Spells such as banishing, protecting, removing curses are all popular spells to record in a grimoire and meditation, grounding and centering methods are some non-spell things that are still important for many witches to know.

You might also want to talk about different types of spells in general, how to create one and what the differences are between them.

Some people talk about the tools they use, especially in practices like traditional Wicca, where there are important tools like chalices and athames. More universal tools like taglocks are another good thing to cover.

It's a good idea to talk about the divination methods there are or just the ones you personally use if you use any. Also cover any layouts, spreads or boards you might use. Witches don’t have to do divination, so if you don’t, you don’t have to include it! 

Some people include a section on magical theory, how they believe magic works. You could also do a section on how divination works for you. Some people think it helps introspection and decisions while others think it helps peer into possible futures.

You might want to include different alphabets relevant to your practice. If your practice is norse based, different futharks might be useful, whereas for hellenic practices, ancient greek alphabets will probably be of more use. The theban or witches’ alphabet is a common alphabet to be found in modern grimoires. Alphabets can help you code things from prying eyes or make sigils.

If you do ancestor or spirit work, you could talk about your ancestors or the spirits you work with. What they were/are like, wisdom they have passed on to you and other information you think is important.

Talk about how to work with spirits if you work with them. How to call them, how to respect them and how to banish them are important things to know.

If your path is a pre-existing one, talk about the history and origin of your type of witchcraft. If religion is heavily important to your path, talk about the history and how it has changed over time too. If your path is unique to you, talk about how you discovered and formed it!

Most witches include folktales, superstition or local wisdom and customs from their area. This could be ghost tales, how to keep crops safe, or even local magical goings on, anything that connects you to the land of your area.

Some people have people in their family who did things that could be considered magical. Many people used to do divination, herbalism (herbalism isn’t inherently witchcraft, it is using plants for healing and health and may or may not have a magical element to it) or use country wisdom and did not consider themselves witches or magical practitioners. Maybe talk about your relative or if you are an open witch and they are still around, ask their opinions and thoughts on matters and include a section on them.

If you are a hereditary witch, you could talk about what you’ve learnt from your family too! Though I feel you probably don’t need my advice on making a grimoire if you are one XD

Some people talk about places that feel magical to them. Explain exactly how the area makes you feel, maybe the reason why or what you have found in that place.

Always remember, your grimoire will never truly be finished, you’ll get it to catch up with your current knowledge at points and may not add new stuff for a bit, but part of being a witch is always learning, so there’ll be more to add soon! It is also important to keep in mind, there is no shame in remaking your grimoire or having to get another volume, it is the collection of your knowledge and it's actually quite common for experienced witches to have multiple volumes of their grimoire or old ones they don’t really refer to anymore, I know grimoires are often talked about in a singular way but it really is common to have multiple.

Most of all, have fun with it. Make your grimoire! I wish you a pleasant journey on your long and winding path <3

Resources!

How to press flowers: https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/how-to-press-flowers.html 

Types of binding: https://www.studentbookbinding.co.uk/blog/types-of-binding 

Magical alphabets and historical alphabets: https://www.omniglot.com/ 

British plant, fungi and animal species: https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/wildlife-explorer 

British plant and fungi species: https://www.plantlife.org.uk/uk/discover-wild-plants-nature/plant-fungi-species 

British plant, fungi and animal species: https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/

(I’m British so these are the resources I know are good for the UK)

[santiagoswagger]

i've never fallen from quite this high

Amy's birthday falls one month into her very new relationship with Jake, and he promises her he has plans to blow her mind.

Set sometime after “The Funeral.”

In all the years Amy’s known Jake, she’s been witness to the downfall of most of his relationships, and she knows they all tend to follow a similar pattern.

He was disorganized and completely consumed by his work throughout most of them, perpetually forgetting to show up for dinners or drinks because a case always took precedence. He could be selfish, unfiltered with his words and competitive to a fault. Most of the women he dated never seemed to last very long, and if they did, Jake usually found a reason to end things. There were a few exceptions, just as there are with any rule, but Jake was nothing if not consistent. He was a lone wolf, even in his personal life.

But the Jake Peralta that Amy finds herself dating now might as well be a stranger.

In the month since they decided to screw being light and breezy, she’s observed several small changes in him that often have her questioning if he’s the same man who once took her on a date designed for maximum humiliation.

When they make plans, he immediately adds them to the calendar on his phone so he won’t forget. He shares his snacks with her at the movies, even if he rolls his eyes while passing her the popcorn bucket. He takes the time to compliment her whether she’s dressed up for a date night out or wearing her ratty sweats on the couch at home, and genuinely means it either way. He’s still overly competitive, but that only makes her like him more.

She catches herself staring at him from across their adjoined desks, in awe of the person he was and the person he’s becoming. She can’t believe she’s actually falling for her goofy, infuriating partner. It’s scary, just as any big change is for a control freak like Amy, but she’s starting to believe that anything worthwhile begins with a little fear.

Much to Amy’s chagrin, Jake catches her mid-stare and smirks.

“Amy, I know you think I look extremely handsome in my new flannel, but this is a workplace. What would the Captain say?” he asks smugly, keeping his voice quiet enough so their coworkers can’t overhear. It’s something they’ve both perfected over the last month.

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop a traitorous grin from materializing on her face.

“Jake, we both know you took that flannel from the lost and found last week. And I wasn’t doing anything,” she says unconvincingly, burying her head in the open file next to her keyboard. “I was thinking. About my case. Because I’m a detective.”

Jake leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. “Does this ‘thinking’ have anything to do with a major life event happening this weekend?”

Amy cocks her head to the side. “’Major life event?’ What are you talking about?”

Jake lets out a loud, triumphant laugh, startling Hitchcock and Scully from their afternoon naps a few feet away.

“Amy, please tell me you didn’t forget your own birthday. No, wait, please tell me you did so I can make fun of you.”

Her jaw drops in horror. Amy Santiago, queen of organization, forgot her own birthday. Work had been so crazy the last few weeks and nights spent analyzing her planner were few and far between now that she had someone to go home with after work so something was bound to fall through the cracks. But she would rather let Charles cook dinner for her than let Jake know that.

“Shut up,” she says indignantly. “Just because I don’t obsess over my birthday like some people doesn’t mean I forgot it.”

Jake leans forward with a softer smile than before. It’s fond, almost. “You did, but that’s okay. I’ve got a few things up my sleeve for Saturday.”

“You do?” she says, surprised.

“Mmm-hmm,” he nods, grinning. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”

She laughs. “Okay, I’ll hold you to it.”

As they pack up their desks to leave for the night, Amy allows herself to wonder what Jake could possibly have planned. It’s their first birthday or holiday as a couple, and it’s so early. Their relationship is still so new and exciting, but a birthday is a big commitment. They haven’t even discussed where they see things going or if there’s a future for them. She doesn’t want this birthday to be the thing that scares him away before the relationship really gets off the ground. She’s pretty sure it could be something great if they let it.

Amy wakes up Saturday morning to the smell of fresh coffee wafting into her bedroom. It’s a shock for two reasons: she’s fairly certain she ran out of coffee grounds earlier this week and she knew Jake was scheduled to work an overtime shift today. The rumpled sheets next to her confirm his absence, but they’re still slightly warm to the touch; he must have just brewed her a pot before stumbling out the door.

She takes the time to brush her hair and teeth, and wash and moisturize her face – she refuses to let her morning routine slip, even if it’s her birthday – before walking out into the kitchen. It’s where she finds a full pot of coffee, complete with a new bag of beans from her favorite neighborhood café. It’s annoyingly expensive hipster coffee, and she can’t believe Jake shelled out the cash for it.

She also finds a note written in Jake’s awful chicken scratch on some stationery he must have grabbed from her office. Lucky for him, Amy’s been forced to decipher a few hundred of his case files over the years and can read his appalling handwriting without a problem.

Ames,

Happy Birthday, weirdo! I’m sorry I have to work on the day of your birth but I promise to make it up to you later ;) See you at 5.

Jake

She smiles as she finishes reading before pouring herself a large cup of steaming coffee and taking a long sip. She sighs, and she’s fairly sure it’s not just the coffee warming her from the inside out.

Truthfully, a day to herself is the best birthday present she could have asked for. She spends the day fielding calls and texts from her family and Kylie while also managing to organize her binders alphabetically and catch up on her very full DVR.

But by the time 5 o’clock rolls around, Jake is nowhere to be found and Amy can’t help but be a little disheartened. He had been making much more of an effort to be punctual lately, especially once he discovered what that earned him from Amy, but she supposes he hasn’t completely let his old habits die. She does her best to shrug it off. He probably just got caught up finishing a case, she thinks.

By 5:30, Amy is concerned. By 6, she’s spiraling.

He’s never been this late to meet her before, and never this late without sending an emoji-filled apology text. She, more than most, knows things can get out of hand at the precinct within an instant, but a shadow of a doubt still manages to nestle its way into Amy’s brain as the minutes tick by without word from her boyfriend.

She pours herself a glass of wine and takes a huge gulp. She knows from past observations that a month is usually Jake’s tipping point in a relationship. It’s entirely possible that he’s starting to have second thoughts about turning their friendship into something more. The thought rips through her like lightning.

It’s then that her front door opens and an exhausted looking Jake practically stumbles into the living room carrying two stuffed takeaway bags. His hair is a mess and his flannel is even more rumpled than usual. Her previously racing thoughts are immediately quelled when she sees him.

“Ames, I’m so sorry but I couldn’t find the restaurant and then the order was wrong and then I had to go to a different place and it was a whole thing,” he says in a breathless jumble. She can barely make out individual words.

“Are you mad?” he asks as he catches his breath. He looks genuinely gutted at the mere possibility he’s disappointed her.

She puts her wine glass down on the coffee table and moves to wrap him up in a firm hug. She can feel the tension leave his body at her touch.

“No, I’m not mad,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “But I wish you had texted me so I knew you were alright.”

“Phone died,” he says sheepishly. She pulls away slightly and gently swats his arm.

“I thought I bought you a charger for your desk!”

“I may or may not have been playing Kwazy Cupcakes all day and it totally drained my battery,” he laughs. “The precinct was so boring today, Ames.”

She smirks. “Did you miss me, Peralta?”

“Pshh, no,” he says, eyes darting around the room.

“You did,” she says smugly and he rolls his eyes, visibly grinning. “Now, tell me about this food.”

She pulls away from him to rummage through the plastic bags he’d placed on her dining table when he came home. It smells unbelievably familiar.

“I, um,” he stutters. “Remember when you told me about your favorite birthday parties as a kid? When all of your extended family would come over and it was just a giant party with games and the best Cuban food?”

“Yeah, I do,” she says softly. It had been such a throwaway conversation, late night memories shared while cuddling on his couch in front of the TV after a long shift. She’s genuinely touched that it stayed with him.

“Well, I found a place in Park Slope that sells those cheesy guava pastries your mom used to make you every year on your birthday,” he says, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. “But they messed up the order and I had to drive around to a bunch of Cuban restaurants to find them. That’s why I was so late.”

Maybe it’s the nostalgic smell of the pasteles de queso y guayaba bringing back her childhood, or maybe it’s the look of pure vulnerability on Jake’s face, but Amy can feel the warmth from this morning’s coffee returning tenfold. A lump begins to grow in her throat and she swallows hard to tamp it down.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she says, astonished. “I haven’t had one of these in forever.”

He’s rubbing his arm again, a nervous tick. “I hope they’re right. The woman at the last place I tried didn’t speak English so it was a lot of charades and pointing.”

She laughs. “They’re definitely right. They smell just like I remember.”

She puts the bag down and walks quickly over to where he’s standing in her kitchen doorway. She kisses him delicately, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek, thumb sweeping his jaw as she pulls away. His eyes are half-mast but they’re shining brightly.

“Happy birthday, Amy,” he whispers, moving to gently grab her hand as it pulls away from his face.

She scrunches her nose and smiles. “Thank you. Now, are you ready to try some cheese and guava pastries?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, no, thank you,” he says vehemently, backing out of her embrace.

She walks closer. “Please? For my birthday? You did say you would make it up to me after working all day.”

He groans. “Fine. But this is the last time I do anything nice for you.”

She smiles. “Deal.”

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 5, daily life (Part 4)

Note of the author: I had a stroke writing this and you will have a stroke reading this. Sincerely: me.

Chapter 5: An oath to one’s lost humanity - Daily life

...

"It hurts."

"It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts."

"Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts."

"It... It hurts..."

"It hurts... It hurts so much..."

...

...

--

Day 20 since the beginning of the game.

8:00 AM.

The morning announcement rang as usual. Shuichi slowly woke up.

Tomorrow could be the end of humanity itself or the end of the killing game. There weren't any other fates awaiting for them.

Hopefully, they would manage to get through the exisal hangar and destroy them.

Kaito's idea may be completely crazy, but that type of madness is what they need right now.

The others were probably waiting for him, so he got dressed up and immediately left to go to the dining hall.

He didn't encounter anyone on his way, though.

Once he entered, he noticed Kirumi was already there with Miu.

"Hello there." Kirumi greeted him.

Shuichi took a seat next to her. "Have you two slept well?"

Miu scoffed. "I slept like someone who's fate is decided tomorrow. But thank you for asking."

It's not like they could have anything else on their minds.

The three started eating in silence.

Kaito and Kokichi came in soon after.

Of course, Rantaro and Ryoma were still in their own labs.

Once they were done, Kirumi left to get Rantaro since Ryoma wouldn't leave his lab until tomorrow.

The medic didn't seem to get better. His empty eyes held the same heaviness for the past three days. The only thing that changed was how good he was at composing himself in front of them- an ability that seemed to worsen over the days, but that no one commented due to how he would potentially react.

"So? Did Ryoma finish the weapons?" Kaito asked.

"He said he'll be done by the end of the morning. After we eat lunch, I'll get the weapons and you guys will be able to enter the hangar." he replied.

After lunch... It was fine. They would have enough time. And besides, he could prepare himself mentally for this operation.

"Hold on, you're not coming?" Miu asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. There are still things I need to do. Besides I don't think all of us going will be useful. Can I leave this to you guys?"

"Don't worry, we'll take care of these, no sweat!" Miu gave him a thumbs-up.

Rantaro had a point. There were only five exisals. Six of them going would be a waste of time.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Kokichi glanced at the others.

"Well, we can still train, right?" Miu suggested. "It can be useful for later!"

"While on the subject of training..." Kirumi mildly raised a hand. "It has come to my attention that someone here might need more than just training."

Shuichi felt her eyes on him.

"I will take Shuichi with me for this morning if none of you are against the idea."

He swallowed.

The others didn't comply, to his dismay. He glanced at Kaito whose eyes simply said: "Good luck."

Training with Kirumi was probably going to be the most painful experience yet.

The group separated, Rantaro still going to do... 'His own business' as he puts it in his lab and the rest of them left to do their own training.

He followed Kirumi to Tenko's lab. He didn't even want to know what she was going to do to him.

Unless... She had ulterior motives?

Once inside, Kirumi closed the door.

"So."

Shuichi turned to her.

"Now that we are alone, we can finally talk in peace."

He let out a sigh of relief.

"We are not going to be able to talk to Ryoma until the time limit. That's going to be very problematic."

"Y-Yeah..."

Should he talk about how he found Rantaro yesterday? At the same time, this looked like a really personal matter, but Kirumi was the only one he could talk to about the situation.

"We're going to have to proceed differently. Forcing him wouldn't help, I know that, but when I went to get him, he was asleep on his desk. And I mean 'collapsed' asleep." she explained.

"Huh? What was he even doing in his lab?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Beats me. There were different products on the table. Different types of painkillers, from weak to very strong ones."

He hummed. "Were all the bottles opened?"

"I did not make a thorough inspection, but overall most of them were opened at some point, I think."

Shuichi thought back at what could possibly have happened in the lab. And more importantly, the syringe he managed to get a glimpse of. Did it have anything to do with it?

After a moment of silence, Kirumi sighed, rubbing her eyes. "This guy really is giving me a headache."

He couldn't disagree. At least with Kokichi, they knew what was wrong and now know how to avoid problems when it comes to his trauma, but they didn't even know what was up with Rantaro since he refused to talk to anyone other than presumably Ryoma. And the latter didn't talk to anyone else either.

"So... What do we do?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. "... You have Kiyo's notebook, correct?"

His eyes widened. Of course!

"Y-Yes, hold on..."

He rummaged through his pocket and took out the small, dark blue notebook of the now-deceased therapist.

"Kiyo trusted you with this notebook. Not me. It's for you to make a decision whether you tell me what it says about Rantaro or not."

She was right... He did judge Kirumi trustworthy enough, but he still hid things from her.

"... I think I'll judge after I read it."

She closed her eyes. "Understood."

The mercenary looked back at him. "For now we should keep a very close eye on him. Even more than ever."

"Do you think we should go to his lab?"

She slightly shook her head. "I will go alone. For efficiency purposes."

"Wait!" he exclaimed. "What will we tell the others?"

After a short silence, she made a quick movement under her skirt and took out her monopad, before putting it on the ground.

"You will stay here to read the notebook while I try to check on him. I will not be gone for long, but if the others do end up getting here before I come back, just tell them I had to get something in my room."

He nodded. "U-Understood."

But before she left, he muttered some words.

"... I didn't know you would care so much about him."

She stopped in her tracks.

There was a moment of silence. Had he said anything wrong?

"If that is how you see it. I simply feel like we should make sure he doesn't end up hurting himself."

The mercenary closed the door behind her.

... Kirumi was also a mystery, in some way. While Rantaro helped from the light, she was helping from the shadows.

Even if she hadn't gained the trust of everyone -even sometimes hated for her talent-, she was the only one aside from him to see through Rantaro's decomposing cover and willing to investigate.

His eyes stayed fixated on the door for a while.

Perhaps he should start reading the therapist's notes.

How was that thing even organized?

There were several bookmarks of different colors. Some were folded, some were not.

He opened the first page.

Angie Yonaga - Ultimate craftswoman

Upon a quick glance, he realized everyone was listed in alphabetical order. As for the bookmarks, he tried to see why some were folded, but he quickly put two and two together when he realized only eight of them were not folded.

To read them all would be useless at this point. He turned the pages when he stumbled upon Kirumi's.

What had the therapist deduced about her? Perhaps it could have answers to some of his questions.

He shook his head. The mercenary had left to check on the medic, and his role was to read about him.

Perhaps he still could try to look after reading his part.

He turned the pages to find the green, unfolded bookmark.

Rantaro Amami - Ultimate war medic

He took a deep breath and started reading.

-

Day 1 report.

Like for everyone else, I am using this notebook to keep track of everyone's behavior, and possibly help them adapt to this environment.

I did not have time to talk much to Rantaro, but he is of the people who stood out the most to me. He seems to already want to take the lead- in a good way. I can sense he has the instinct to do so. He says he is a war medic, I wonder if he was the chief of a crew or if it's just in him to lead people in dangerous situations. Both are plausible, but I shall study him more to see what enabled this behavior.

I do wonder if he has any sort of trauma linked to war, though.

-

Shuichi almost forgot there was a time Rantaro was the true 'leader' of the group. It felt like an eternity since then. So many things happened from the moment they were captured to now. Half of them have died already and there was a possibility the rest of them would die tomorrow, killing off the last glimmer of hope for humanity.

But the last sentence of the paragraph made him wince. It reminded him of how innocent he seemed back then- before almost killing him.

If Kiyo had a feeling on the first day, then surely he would have gotten more info about it over the days.

-

Day 6 report.

Rantaro is once again taking the lead by making us watch all of our motive videos to gain our memories back. I thought he was going to get us not to watch the videos, but I was proven wrong. He is more of a strategist than I thought. I do wonder if he has any other tricks up his sleeves to face Monokuma or not. He seems to already know someone is going to kill.

This afternoon only confirmed it to me. He seemed extremely forgiving of Miu's murder attempt, although I could also see a hint of uncertainty. Which is normal when you almost died. I hope he manages to play his cards well.

I cannot help but wonder if this side of him is genuine care for her or 'white manipulation' if you could call it that way. He doesn't seem to have any ill intentions, but if Miu learned she was being manipulated (even for a good cause), she would react very badly, I'm certain of it.

For now, I will stay silent, as I do not know his intentions completely, and to throw accusations would destroy the work he has started.

But if Rantaro is indeed able to manipulate people into acting according to his plans, I can't help but worry about what he could possibly do in the future.

I do hope he will not have to do this again, even though that is necessary, to an extent.

-

"White manipulation...?" Shuichi muttered.

He did notice how well Rantaro could act. Now he wonders if back then he had only done this to make her side with them.

He does feel bad though, to know that there was a possibility Rantaro was only taking advantage of Miu's feelings for him, completely disregarding the love and respect she had for him.

Shuichi really did hope there was at least a glimpse of sincerity in his words.

But right now, manipulating them? He indeed wanted everyone to act according to his plan to stop Monokuma, but now he wasn't so sure if there were any other intentions behind it or not. Rantaro never attempted murder... if he didn't count 'that' time. He saw it for himself: He was the most useful in the trials, always pointing out details on either the autopsy and major clues to continue.

Right now he was alone in his lab -with possibly Kirumi-, Ryoma was in his own lab and the others were training. But... that was necessary if they wanted to stand a chance against Monokuma.

... Perhaps he should continue reading.

-

Day 8 report.

Both Kaede and Maki are dead, but the trial let me see strange facets of some of them. Especially Rantaro.

He looks so dedicated to his job, I don't think I've ever seen such loyalty before. As Tsumugi was pushing him over and over again in the hope of getting info out of him, he felt insulted at the theory he would betray us. The emotion he put through his speech- that was genuine. A genuine pride and honor tied to his title as the ultimate war medic. He even insisted he would rather die than betray us.

While I am rather glad someone seemed genuine in his words of never committing treason, it stills makes me feel... Uneasy. I did feel chills hearing that last sentence.

“And I would rather die than to betray this loyalty I swore to myself.”

Those are definitely not the words of a normal person. I can tell he has gone through a lot as a soldier, but then again he never seemed to show any explicit signs of trauma.

I feel like I can trust him. He seems reliable enough as well as a very intelligent person who was a great help during those two trials. And while I do hope we are not going to get a third trial, I am pretty sure he would be just as useful if that happens.

While some of his methods are a bit unorthodox, they do end up being efficient in the end. To entrust Ryoma with his lab key so he wouldn't be able to be pinned for a crime was a smart move. I do hope no one gets the wrong idea with him, though.

As for hiding Miu's murder attempt... He managed to be extremely rational and not let his emotions take the better of him. He could have told everyone about it but preferred to gain her trust instead. Although as I said a few days ago, I do not know for sure if this is about genuine care or manipulation.

Miu did try to kill for her son but backed down because she was unable to actually do it. I think Rantaro sensed her will to fight and is trying to turn it against Monokuma. That's what we are all supposed to do but are too afraid to act because of the consequences. He is trying to redirect us to the path he judges right.

Overall I do not see him as our enemy, but rather as one of the people I trust the most, for now. I hope I will not get proven wrong over time.

-

'Unorthodox methods' was an understatement.

Shuichi was ready to tell the others about what Miu did, but Rantaro had immediately decided not to. Any normal person would lock her and make sure she couldn't harm anyone else, but he decided to give her a chance, and he was right to do so. That was a huge gamble that paid off in the end.

And to enable their will to fight, not against each other but against Monokuma... That was what he called white manipulation.

He thought about the time he and Kaito had gone to his lab during the third investigation. When they learned Rantaro had kept the lethal aspect of his products a secret. It was like he had managed to plan everything in advance extremely quickly.

Shuichi supposed it's his own talent that granted him this sense of organization.

But Kiyo explicitly said he never showed any worrying signs... Which didn't help in the slightest.

-

Day 10 report.

Rantaro has volunteered to take care of the ones touched by the despair disease. It is a noble gesture, and a part of me knew that was going to be the case.

Right now there are no more 'leaders' since he will not be with us to limit the risks of contamination. He even asked Himiko not to stay here too much. And while I cannot talk to him face to face, his words still feel genuine.

As a war medic, he should know better than us about this type of situation, so in the meantime, I shall help those who have trouble coping with the killing game.

He looks trained enough to do his job and I trust him for this. For now, I should focus on those I can talk to.

-

Nothing much to learn here...

Kiyo doesn't seem to doubt Rantaro, but he does not give any sort of information that would help him.

-

Day 12 report.

Rantaro started giving me mixed feelings. I feel like half of what he says is genuine, and the other half feels... Not exactly wrong, but forced. Like he is forcing himself to act in certain ways. To do certain actions.

Himiko, Keebo and Angie died today. I'm still having a hard time processing it all. But right now I am focusing on things I noticed in Rantaro's attitude.

When most of the group separated to investigate, I stayed with both Ryoma and Rantaro to guard the corpse. Right after everyone left, Rantaro probably became the most expressive I've ever seen him. He was truly mad at Himiko's death, and that was genuine. A feeling of guilt I also sensed after the others' death, but Himiko was the one to stand out the most, and I am sure it is because of her cause of death.

When he found out later the most important parts of Angie's plan were made thanks to his lab, plus the fact she tried to pin the crime on him must have accentuated his guilt. He was trying to hide it so he could solve the trial, but it was there.

The rage against Monokuma when he declared Angie had the bloodlust disease is completely genuine as well, I do not doubt it for one second.

However, when he grabbed Monodam to make him face Himiko's mangled body, he was clearly forcing himself. Was he trying to prove a point to the robots? To encourage us to fight? Or is it something else entirely? I could tell he knew that was not a good idea and that he had the emotional capacity not to snap. He did it with rationality and I cannot tell why he took such risks.

I want to believe in him, but this is starting to worry me. I should try to keep an eye on him.

-

He is.. pretending? But for what?

What would he even prove to Monokuma by threatening his cub? The bears had much more power than him at the time. Taking risks without any reason behind it was not like Rantaro at all. Was Kiyo wrong?

At least it's more than he ever learned. But still, he knew Rantaro was hiding things, but to fake irrationality... Why? He knew showing signs of weakness could cause the others to lose hope, so why do it on purpose when everything he has done up until now is trying to get them to fight Monokuma?

Or was it like the second theory- to encourage them to fight?

Shuichi had no idea what the medic was thinking, although that was not new.

He should read more.

-

Day 14 report.

Once again Rantaro took the lead for the 4th motive.

It's not that I mind, but we will have to stay separate for the most part, and Rantaro seems to want to stay with Ryoma for the time being. The two seem close, now that I think about it. And both often give their inputs in the trials, although Ryoma is a bit more silent. I suppose their experiences as soldiers must have made them closer than with anyone else. I do hope I am not wrong by making this assumption.

Although there is something that worries me. Ever since Himiko died, Rantaro seems more on edge. My guess is that since her death was more brutal than the executions themselves added to the fact that he was drugged the time this crime was committed, he must think he could have done better and even save her had he been less 'careless'. I do not know if he knows that it is not his fault, unfortunately. I can only hope. If someone had asked me a few days ago, I would have said with no hesitation that he knew that. But now I'm not so sure anymore.

He may have faked his reaction back in the shrine of judgment, but if more actions end up feeling genuine, I might have to step in.

-

Himiko's death had shocked everyone, not just Kokichi. Even though the boy was the most mournful, they all deeply missed the astronomer.

Her death changed them all in some way. Miu became way more motherly, Kiyo acted on his own because he judged he was the one to blame for this, Kokichi was torn apart because his disease was the reason she died, and now Shuichi learns that Rantaro was actually feeling the exact same guilt as everyone else.

But finally, he was getting a glimpse of what was wrong- something related to his past on the battlefield and the guilt he is holding.

Surely Kiyo would have...

...

... He didn't have time to get any more information, did he?

This note was written one day before his plan to stop the supposed mastermind. He didn't have time to write more.

However, there was one last note, hastily scribbled on the last page. It looked like Kiyo was in a rush when writing it.

-

This is the final note I shall write. Everything has gone wrong, and Shuichi, since you are probably the one reading this, I am sorry for lying to you all. I am sorry for betraying you and I shouldn't have made this disastrous plan in the first place, but I need to write this.

It's not that I'm distrusting Rantaro, but something is deeply wrong. Something I don't have an explanation for, and of course I cannot ask him because I have to pretend to investigate with you all.

But the way he was standing, the heaviness in his eyes, the way he reacted to Tsumugi's death, this intense guilt in his expression... It's not something I've ever seen before from him. He always had a comforting smile and a genuine will to help. But now it's different. It's like he completely shut down, only leaving an empty shell deprived of reason.

But that doesn't make any kind of sense. He didn't show even a single sign of trauma up until very recently. Not a single time. I've noticed his actions started feeling off during the motive and brushed it off because I was focusing on the mastermind, but there was a hint of hesitation, of uncertainty that was never present in him. But now that Tsumugi is dead, he has been showing those signs of trauma -whether it is indeed PTSD or something worse- more than ever.

I fail to see the meaning of this, but that may be because I didn't have time to talk to him at all. He might have just completely snapped all at once. It's very rare to be able to swallow all the pain that well, but if we keep in mind his early life, that actually might not be that much of a stretch.

Anyway, I know this is going to be hard considering he is not the type to let himself crumble -besides the eventual faking-, but I need you guys to keep an eye on him and possibly help him with this. He is the one who will need it the most.

I will not be here to help you and I don't have the time to write methods on how to deal with PTSD, and I do not know how to deal with war trauma of all things. Added to the fact I didn't get to witness it much, all I can say is good luck. I know you can help with patience and perseverance.

I have faith in you all.

-

...

...

A note before the trial. The last thoughts of the therapist about them. But...

What did this even mean?

Somehow he could understand the 'shut down' part due to what he witnessed these last few days... But he could not even apprehend anything else on this note.

"He showed subtle signs and then... broke d-

The door opened, startling him. He instinctively closed the notebook, letting out a high-pitched noise. "Ah!-"

Kirumi stared at him for a moment. "... I'm back."

"I-I can see that."

She approached him. "So? Anything new?"

Shuichi looked back at the notebook for a moment. "He... never mentions any sort of trauma. Only that it seemed... sudden."

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. "Sudden...?"

"He said he only showed very subtle signs of trauma but never mentioned anything else about it. Only that he seemed to have snapped when Tsumugi died."

She pondered for a moment. "... Which does not help us apprehend the situation at all."

"He only mentioned PTSD or 'maybe worse', but he never got to talk to Rantaro about it."

"Rantaro stayed with the ill ones during the third motive, and we had to stay separated during the fourth motive. So I can understand that part."

Shuichi stared at the notebook for a moment. "Was the mastermind... trying to do that?"

She looked back at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Trying to separate Rantaro from Kiyo- the therapist. Rantaro is one of the smartest ones here... Were they trying to make sure those two couldn't talk?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I am starting to think this is a possibility."

"They have managed to manipulate Kiyo, I wouldn't be surprised if they took Rantaro's trauma at their advantage. To exploit the weaknesses of the ones causing them the most trouble."

He winced at the thought. "Which means we'll have to keep an eye on him at all times... If he lets us."

"Which I doubt he will. You should know Rantaro by now as well as I do."

He could only agree.

"Wait, how did it go? Did you... talk to him?"

She went silent for a moment. "I did confront him, yes."

He felt his heart skip a beat. "S-So...?"

"He refuses to say anything. I did try to ask him to join us in our training and at least be with someone, but he snapped at me saying he already trains alone, and has the medicine to prepare. I couldn't get a single thing out of him."

"Oh..."

There was a long silence.

"Should we... train anyway?"

"Sure. What I do is more of an aiming exercise than something physical. A technical exercise, if you will."

At least he wouldn't get exhausted this time.

Kirumi first gave him a simple exercise with the target and the darts from Kokichi's lab, which at first didn't sound too bad. That is, until they changed the difficulty from 'peaceful' to 'throwing knives at a moving target.' At least his aim at the end of the training was decent.

Finally, Kokichi went to get them for lunch.

After that, Rantaro would get the weapons and they would finally make their way to the exisal hangar.

Hopefully, his plan would work.

They reunited, but lunch was pretty silent as they didn't have much to say.

After eating, they stood up.

"So? What about those weapons?" Kaito asked.

"I will go to Ryoma's lab. You guys can still train in the meantime if you want." the medic replied.

Did that mean it was going to take longer than expected?

Either way, Rantaro was already on his way.

"So... What do we do now?" Kokichi looked at the others.

"I guess we're back on preparing ourselves." Kaito shrugged. "Not like we have much to do."

"Then how about we go to the warehouse? There are still the dumbells here!" Miu suggested. "And you will have to train your strength one day or another!" she pointed at Kokichi.

"O-Okay??"

They made their way here. But as soon as Miu started going through the boxes, the lights suddenly turned off.

They stood there for a moment. The sun still shone through the windows, but the additional lights were gone.

"Weird... Aren't they always turned on?" Kaito raised an eyebrow.

"That is strange. None of us pressed a switch or anything similar." Kirumi noted.

"I'm guessing the power went out..." Shuichi noted. "But it never happened in the academy, did it?"

Kaito shook his head. "Nope. Not even once."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything." Miu shrugged. "Should we go outside instead?"

They didn't have many solutions. It was still too dark to do proper training.

The group made their way outside. Since Rantaro would soon come with the weapons, they decided to do simple exercises outside.

Shuichi was still anxious about this. Sure, he knew a way to open the hangar, but would the weapons work? Surely, Monokuma would try to do something, right?

Who knows.

Around fifteen minutes, later, Kaito broke the silence. "What's taking him so long? I know Ryoma's lab is on the fifth floor but still."

"Agreed..." Shuichi muttered.

"Should we go and see what happened? Maybe the blackout did something." Miu suggested.

"No need for it. He's right here." Kirumi said, head turned towards the main door where Rantaro just appeared.

He had a backpack that Shuichi assumed to be full.

He approached the group, put the bag on the ground, and opened it.

"Those are the weapons we used for the tunnels and new ones. There are now grenades in there that are powerful enough to do heavy damage, so be careful keeping a safe distance when activating them. You guys should be able to disable the exisals with that." Rantaro explained.

Grenades powerful enough to destroy exisals?

That was definitely not what he had in mind, but... Perhaps they could change their plans, if Kaito accepts giving up on his dream to pilot the exisals.

"So you are still not coming with us?" Kirumi asked.

The medic thought for a moment.

"... Perhaps it should be better if I go with you guys indeed."

Rantaro didn't say anything as he distributed the weapons to everyone. The grenades looked very small compared to the damage they are supposed to do. They were about the size of a tennis ball, with Ryoma's sigil printed on them. They were a bit heavier than what Shuichi expected an item of this size to be, but it wasn't too bothering.

"Shuichi, I really do hope your method will work." Kaito said.

"Even if it doesn't, I'm pretty sure these will be enough to destroy the door." Rantaro eyed him.

He did hope this would work indeed. Not that he disliked the bombs, but it still worried him.

They made their way to the exisal hangar.

Shuichi noticed the lights were still on, which meant the blackout hadn't touched the hangar.

"That's weird... I thought the blackout happened in the entire academy." he noted.

"Yeah, that's right! Is it because it only touched the main building or something?" Miu added.

"Strange. Rantaro, did you also get it on the fifth floor?" Kirumi asked.

"I did experience it. Fortunately, there were emergency lights in Ryoma's lab. He said he'll work a way to create a sustainable light source in case this ends up being a long term problem."

Shuichi wondered if all the labs had those. Probably, but he would have to check sometime.

This made him worry about the state of the academy. Perhaps throwing bombs around and using hacking guns could do serious damage, and without electricity and thus heating, refrigerators, and many other essential elements in the academy. they were better off dead.

At last, they reached the shutter.

"So? Will you finally tell us your technique?" Kaito asked again.

Shuichi nervously approached the pad where he had to type the password.

"... Kokichi, could you come here for a second?"

"Um... Sure..."

The smaller boy placed himself next to him. "What... do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. Let me just..." He placed a hand on the keys, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

He could sense the others silently wondering what he was up to.

"... Actually no. Miu, can you come here too, please?"

She raised an eyebrow. "O...kay? What's the big deal?"

"I want you to press keys at random until I say stop."

They all looked at him with dumbfounded eyes -except Rantaro, who somehow already knew what the plan was-.

"What the fuck?! That's your plan?" Miu exclaimed.

"There's one in a trillion of a trillion chance she'll get it right! Did you seriously think this would work?!" Kaito added.

"No, it can work."

Everyone turned to Rantaro.

"There is a chance it can work. Right Kokichi?"

The smaller boy jumped. "Y-Yes... I think she can do it."

"If karma is fully on her side, then I think she can get this one in a billion chances."

Her eyes widened and turned to the violinist. "You planned to use karma for this??"

He nodded. "That's why I'm asking you to type the code. You out of all of us are the most likely to succeed."

The street artist felt the gazes of her friends on her.

"I... I'll try."

She placed her hands on the pad. "So... I just type random numbers?"

"Yes, don't think while you type. And stop the exact moment I tell you to."

She paused in front of the pad. Shuichi closed his eyes to focus.

Miu closed hers as well and started typing, the beeping echoing through the room.

The intervals between the noises were short, but keeping track of them wasn't much of a problem.

beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep-

"STOP!"

Miu instinctively took her hands off. "Is it good?"

Shuichi swallowed. "I think we can press enter."

He was very nervous. He really hoped this would work.

tic!

A loading logo appeared on the pad, everyone staring at the machine with anxiousness.

Password correct!

Shuichi's eyes widened. "It... worked?"

Miu laughed and started ruffling his hair. "It worked! Shuichi, you're a genius!"

"I-I guess? Thank you?"

"And thanks for the karma, Kokichi! We couldn't have done it without you!"

He weakly smiled. "T-Thanks, Miu."

Kaito cracked his knuckles. "Alright! Now that this thing's open we can get in!"

"We shouldn't let our guard down. We don't know if Monokuma is ready to stop us or not." Kirumi advised.

"Agreed." Rantaro added.

They proceeded with caution as the door opened for them.

They slowly entered the hangar, checking every side to see if the bear was here to stop them.

... But nobody came.

"So." Rantaro approached the first exisal with his hacking gun, pointing it at the machine. "If the gun works, the exisal opens."

Kokichi looked unsure. "And... What if it doesn't?"

The medic shot a quick glance at him.

"... Then we're blowing this place up."

Shuichi felt his heart skip a beat. When he had requested weapons to Ryoma... This isn't what he had in mind in the slightest.

"H-Hold on! Ain't that a tad too dangerous?" Kaito exclaimed.

"Well, do you have any other plans?"

The biker went silent. "N-No..."

"If they don't open with the guns, we have no choice but to destroy them."

He took the grenade to look at it. "Ryoma made these specifically to destroy them. He is the ultimate weapons maker, I'm pretty sure those bombs are more than enough."

Shuichi was still worried. If Ryoma's bombs were as powerful as he just said, weren't there risks they would hurt or even kill themselves?

He could only hope the guns would work.

Rantaro pointed the gun at the blue exisal and shot it five times.

But it didn't move.

"Perhaps we should check if we can open it." Kirumi suggested.

She approached the engine and tried to move it...

... Without success.

"S-So the guns don't work?" Miu asked, already knowing what's coming.

"Nope. That means the system to open them isn't electric, but mechanical. We can't do anything with the guns." Rantaro noted.

Kirumi crossed her arms. "I had inspected them several times the day we discovered the hangar. They don't have an opening mechanism that can be used by hand."

"Then... We have to destroy the exisals?" Shuichi looked at the two.

"... We don't have a choice."

He didn't expect Miu to say that.

"We have a way to put an end to this, so let's blow these up!"

"Are you sure about this?" Kaito turned to her.

She nodded. "If you want to, you can wait for us outside. Just give your bomb and we'll take care of it!"

Since Kaito couldn't run, to escape the explosion would be hard. Perhaps he should indeed distance himself so he wouldn't have to risk his life.

The biker gave his bomb to Miu and left.

"See you soon, good luck!" He waved at Miu, who waved back. "Gotcha!"

Everyone had their bombs in hand.

"You pull the grip, throw next to the exisals and run away as fast as you can. Ryoma told me we have ten seconds to run before they explode. Which should give us enough time to distance ourselves from the explosion. Got it?"

Shuichi nodded.

"3..."

He held firmly the grenade.

"2..."

Hand on the trigger, hoping this would go well.

"1..."

He was about to pull the grip, but-

"AHEM!"

A familiar robotic voice was heard from behind them.

A voice they all hated.

They all turned around to see Monokuma had made his apparition.

"My, my! That was quite the elaborated plan! I'm sad you guys don't put that much effort into killing! To use Kokichi's karma to open the door, then grenades to destroy the exisals? I didn't think you would go that far!"

... Well. Shit.

Of course, Monokuma would barge in at some point. It was about time he did something to annoy them.

"However, that would be very unfortunate for me if you guys end up destroying my precious exisals!"

Rantaro glared at him. "You just had to ruin our plans, didn't you? I was surprised you didn't show up sooner."

"I wouldn't call it 'ruining your plans'. You see, I call it 'Killing game management'!"

Kirumi rolled her eyes. "So? Stop beating around the bush and tell us what you're planning to do."

He groaned. "Impatient, aren't we? Let me at least make things enjoyable for our audience!"

Kaito looked at him with a deadpanned expression. "Stop fucking around, you stupid dramatic theater kid. No one is watching and no one cares."

"Fine! Fine! I simply added an additional rule for our lovely stay at the academy! Make sure to keep it in mind!~"

Shuichi took out his monopad that just vibrated and turned it on to see the new rule.

#17: Any person damaging the headmaster's personal property (Exisals, kids) will be faced with punishment.

"Oh, come on!" Miu yelled. "Couldn't you tell us sooner?!"

"Puhuhu! Why would I? It was fascinating to watch all of you prepare this meticulous plan, and to almost destroy my precious exisals! By the way..."

The bear took out a set of keys he span around his paw. Four keys, each marked with a color- blue, red, pink, and yellow.

"Those exisals can only be opened by my precious cubs! I would never -ever- give you guys the keys!"

If the cubs had the keys and Monokuma took them back after their deaths, then only Monodam had his key left.

Although that didn't mean he would help them.

"Now, shoo! You wouldn't want to be executed for such an idiotic mistake!"

Shuichi was mad. But he had to restrain himself. He glanced at the others.

They didn't have a choice but to leave, no matter how much they wanted to complete their plan.

The group slowly walked out, disappointed by the outcome of this mission.

They had to go back to the original plan, to fight the exisals once the time limit comes.

Miu explained to Kaito what happened back there, the latter also mad at Monokuma.

"So... What do we do now?" Kokichi asked.

"We'll stick to what we planned to do. You guys continue your training, I'll bring back the bombs to Ryoma."

Shuichi didn't expect anything else.

He thought about the notebook. Should he make an excuse to read more of it? Perhaps he could try to understand better what Kiyo was trying to say, and he was also curious about Kirumi.

But at the same time, he had to train with the others. They wouldn't be able to survive if he doesn't get fit before the next day.

Rantaro left to go to the main building.

Kirumi was keeping an eye on him. She obviously didn't like the idea of leaving him alone.

And neither did Shuichi

"K-Kirumi? You did aiming exercises with Shuichi, right?" Kokichi turned to the mercenary.

"Yes, I did. I am guessing you would like to train with me?"

He nodded. "I know I don't have any kind of brute force, but... I still should try to get better at aiming, right?"

She hummed. "It would be preferable, yes."

Miu put her hands on her hips. "We may have failed now, but we're not giving up! C'mon, Shuichi! I heard from Kaito you weren't exactly the strongest~"

Shit.

"R-Right..." he faked a smile.

Kaito wrapped an arm around his neck. "You're coming with us whether you like it or not!"

He could throw the plan to keep an eye on Rantaro in the trashcan, then.

But they were right on one thing: They needed to train.

They headed to the main building, but noticed the blackout was still happening.

"When will Monokuma bring the lights back? Sheesh, he could at least do that instead of giving us stupid rules." Miu groaned.

"Do we still train here or...?" Kaito crossed his arms.

She hummed. "I guess we can take the dumbells outside. That's gonna be our first exercise!"

... He was going to be the one transporting them, wasn't he?

The trio got to the warehouse, thankfully still illuminated a bit by the sunlight.

"Hey Shuichi! Take those dumbells outside, would ya?" the street artist grinned.

I knew it.

They ended up encouraging him as he transported the heavy box outside. The encouragements didn't do much, but it was still nice to have them by his side.

The three trained for a while. Shuichi was getting better, to the others' pleasure.

Good thing those two were good at motivating.

"I'm... I'm exhausted..."

Kaito laughed. "Alright, alright. We can take a break."

Shuichi laid on the grass and looked up to the sky- or rather the fake sky.

It may be nothing but a screen simulating the day/night cycle, but that was also the symbol of all the efforts the Gofer project scientists had put to ensure their survival.

They could not fail this fight. Not now.

There was a long silence.

...

"Do you think we're going to make it?" he asked.

Ryoma could make weapons, yes, but would that be enough against Monokuma?

Did he have any other trick up his sleeve?

What would... What would the one behind it all do?

"I have hope in us."

As expected, Miu was the one to talk.

"I said it before and I say it again. We can't consider defeat as an option. Whatever is in front of us we will fight it."

"I promised to Kaz that I would live, that I would be one of the salvagers of humanity, and I'm keeping my promise."

"And I want you guys by my side too."

But no matter how many encouragements Miu would give, his worry would never die down.

However, seeing her so determined about this helped a little anyway.

After a long pause, they decided to continue the training, this time he and Miu cheering for Kaito who was trying to run with dumbells. He did end up falling more than once, though.

But every single time he got back up. Sometimes needing help, but overall being more than able to help for the next day.

Perhaps those training sessions did more good than he thought, both physically and mentally.

Some long hours later, they could see the sunset in the distance as they all sat on the ground.

...

"This... This may be the last time we ever see the sun setting. If we can even call it that way." Kaito broke the silence.

Miu groaned. "What did I say earlier?! We are going to fight! And we are going to win!"

"I know! I know! But still!"

Miu turned to the source of this beautiful golden light. "... But I get what you mean."

The screens reflected almost perfectly the colors they used to watch on summer nights, back before the killing game.

When everything was normal.

...

"Oh, you guys are here!"

A voice came from behind- Kokichi.

"Hey there! Have you guys trained well?"

Kirumi, who was accompanying Kokichi, approached the group as well. "We are fine."

The two turned to the sunset as well. A calm and peaceful scene.

A wave of nostalgia hit him. Of summers spent with friends, dancing around the beach with their families watching them.

Moments he wanted so much to live again, but couldn't.

...

"I see things are going well on your side."

Shuichi almost jumped at the voice.

Rantaro had joined them as well, to his surprise.

"I'm glad you guys are still up to this very last battle." he said with a weak smile- a weak smile still not hiding the emptiness in his tired eyes.

"Anytime, sweetie! We're ready to fight!" Miu gave him a thumbs-up.

Shuichi couldn't help but smile as well. "I've been getting stronger thanks to you all. I think... I think we can do this."

"T-That's right! We've been training and I'm sure that with Ryoma's weapons we can end this!" Kokichi exclaimed- although his voice was still lower than most of theirs.

"Then I believe we can survive this fight." Kirumi crossed her arms, her voice low, but confident. "I believe tomorrow this killing game will end."

It was rare hearing such words from her, but they truly felt sincere.

"Then how about we take a break?" Kaito suggested, standing up. "We've been training all day, how about we relax a little?"

Rantaro sighed. "As much as I hate it, I have to agree. Perhaps we should indeed end for today."

Shuichi smiled. Finally, the medic admitted taking a break was necessary.

The group stared off into space.

The sky may be nothing but a pale copy of reality, but those rays of sunlight still warmed their hearts.

They were here. Six of the seven survivors of humanity. And if they were chosen as ultimates to save it, then they were going to fight until their very last breath.

Their journey was coming to an end.

A long and painful journey of what felt like endless suffering.

Tomorrow would mark an end to this game, and they would finally live in peace.

But right now, they just enjoyed the silence. The comforting artificial light from the dome.

Though the wind was not present, Shuichi could almost feel a light breeze on his face.

A calm before the storm, and hopefully then, calmer than they ever have been.

...

Shuichi turned back to the group. "How about we relax for an hour and then we get to dinner?"

"Sounds good to me! I need a shower." Miu stood up as well.

They all agreed, heading back to the dorms.

Shuichi started walking but noticed Rantaro was staring at the building- or the void, most likely.

"Are you okay, Rantaro?"

He turned back to the violinist. "Huh? Sorry, I'm coming."

Once in his room, Shuichi let out a sigh. He really needed a shower as well.

After that, he looked at his monopad. 45 minutes left before going to the dining hall. Perhaps he could finally read a part of Kiyo's notebook.

He sat on his bed and opened it to Kirumi's page.

The violinist may be worried about Rantaro, but he was curious about her as well.

Kirumi Tojo - Ultimate maid (?) mercenary

Shuichi forgot for a moment she was known as the ultimate maid for a while. But if he did note a question mark, did that mean he was doubting her even before the reveal? That wasn't that surprising actually.

-

Day 1 report.

Like for everyone else, I am using this notebook to keep track of everyone's behavior, and possibly help them adapt to this environment.

I do not know this person well, I will admit. However, I am pretty sure she was lying about her talent, at least partially. She may be in a maid outfit, but I have a feeling she is hiding things. I do not wish to point things out so soon. After all, cooperation is the key to survival in a killing game. One simple thing could lead to a disaster.

Who knows what would happen if I exposed her as a liar so soon. Besides, I lack concrete evidence to do so. I should keep an eye on her to see if I can get any information out of her behavior.

-

Even on day 1? Shuichi didn't know what he expected, but certainly not that soon.

Good thing he didn't expose her back then, though. He doesn't even know how he would have reacted.

He did learn it during a trial, which was why he had to brush it off rather quickly to solve the current mystery, but had she been exposed at any other moment he would have probably panicked a lot more.

At least Kiyo knew what consequences it would have had.

-

Day 5 report.

Kirumi is definitely not the ultimate maid.

I have heard from Tsumugi's group that Kirumi wished to stay in her lab for a moment before any of us could even enter. She may have gotten out of her lab afterward, but I have my doubts.

I did end up talking to her, though, in her lab of all places. The lab did look like it belonged to a maid, but something is amiss, I can feel it. And I am pretty sure she knows I know. She looks like she is carefully choosing her words every time she talks to me.

In her lab, our conversation was rather interesting, although I do not doubt for one second that she was lying through her teeth about certain things, mostly her daily life. I have a few theories about what she could be, although my main theory is that she is indeed a criminal, and not the 'robber' type. I would not be surprised if she revealed to have killed people in the past. How many? That I do not know, but she surely did.

I do understand why she stays silent about it, though. Even I, the first day, realized anything can make us crumble. I do not know if we will ever know one day, but knowing Monokuma, he would surely find a way to rat her out.

Although there is one thing that reassures me, is that she does not seem like the serial killer type. If she really took pleasure in killing, she would have done so during the first blood perk motive.

So I am guessing she is a retired mercenary or assassin. I do not know what could have made her stop her career, perhaps I should talk to her once her talent is fully out.

-

Even back then he knew about her being a mercenary, or at least an assassin.

He was really glad he didn't tell anyone. But was it the reason why Kirumi got Maki's motive video instead of hers? Monokuma did blame it on his cubs, but there is a possibility this was on purpose.

After all, how else would she get her talent out in the day? Just seeing her lying about her talent must have given him the will to expose her himself with the second motive.

He was glad Kiyo acted carefully back then.

Back then...

He preferred not to think about the fourth trial again.

-

Day 8 report.

So she is indeed the ultimate mercenary, just as I thought.

A strategical woman who does not wish to take unnecessary risks. She looked unhappy to have her talent exposed by Keebo and Ryoma, which is more than understandable. However, they did not specify if she was retired or not, which worries me a little. But since she is a mercenary and not an assassin, I think she does not wish to kill someone unless there is a reward behind it- most likely money.

Although I fail to understand why she didn't kill anyone during the first blood perk if she knew how to kill. Actually, now that I think about it, it might be because she realized the same thing as me- the fact that Monokuma may or may not have been lying about letting us go scot-free. And since Kirumi is intelligent as well, that is the most plausible possibility. A distrustful and independent nature has its perks.

I will try to talk to her about it during the next few days, but I will have to balance her with a few others, such as Kokichi, Rantaro, and Tsumugi.

-

Kirumi had mentioned retiring if she could, which meant she was indeed still active before the game.

And she did tell him about the reason why she didn't try to kill anyone for the first blood perk. And as Kiyo said, it was because she realized Monokuma may have been lying.

A strategical woman indeed.

But Kiyo also seemed to have realized that Monokuma may have been lying as well, but perhaps he feared the direct consequences of exposing him.

It's not like he could ask him now.

-

Day 9 report.

Kirumi is indeed an interesting person. Now that her talent is out I got to experience her real self. She is still helping with tasks, this time with Miu by her side, that I am glad didn't isolate herself from the group after the incident.

Miu aside, Kirumi seems to have mixed feelings about her own job. That if she had any other opportunity, she would retire, but that circumstances didn't allow her to do so. I did ask her how it was affecting her- to kill people for a living. However, the moment I even tried to talk about the subject, she glared at me and immediately closed herself off. It isn't anything surprising, really. To bring yourself to describe your killing career must be very hard. But in that case, she just doesn't want to, I think.

She doesn't show any signs of trauma, though I could be wrong. Since she is a strategist, she must know that showing weakness could cost her a lot. For now, I will try to focus on other people, since she seems very reluctant to talk about her feelings.

Although she did talk about preferring to end her targets' lives as painlessly and quickly as possible. That making people suffer and torturing them was not part of her job. On that point, I can respect her. She knows killing is wrong, and I can sense a respect for the dead coming from her. A necessity not to kill those who aren't involved with her job.

At least she is more reasonable than I first thought when I heard about her talent as a mercenary.

-

To respect the dead... That was exactly what she talked about a few days ago when she reproached them that they didn't respect those who died and their wishes. Kaito had taken it the wrong way, but this was what she really meant.

When they talked later, Shuichi learned that she wouldn't kill if she didn't have to and that she mostly did so to survive, putting her life before her targets'. It was a selfish mindset, but... Could he blame her?

Killing was horrible, and it is an unforgivable crime. He knew that more than anyone.

But as Kiyo said, at least she hated making people suffer.

He was really glad she was on their side.

-

Day 13 report.

Himiko's death was a shock for everyone. There is no questioning that. But Kirumi's stone-cold facade finally crumbled enough for me to see some specks of humanity in her.

Although she does have experience in killing, her reaction upon seeing Himiko's corpse was almost just as normal as ours. Pure horror. I didn't expect Himiko to be tortured in such a way either. I wanted to vomit.

But to see her shocked about her death proved me right on a point. She does respect the dead a lot. I do not know how exactly she achieved this mentality, but I presume this is because of her job. To watch people suffer weighs a lot on someone's mind, so making things quickly would limit the damage on her psyche.

Deep down she does feel the same horror as us to this madness.

And her last interaction with Angie only intensified this feeling. When she grabbed Kokichi to torment him, Kirumi was the only one who had the nerve to step in and slap her away, denying whatever similarities the two could have, and I suspect this mentality is the 'why'.

Two killers, yet drastically different ideologies, although I do not think I can consider Angie's bloodlust disease as an ideology.

I should try to get through her again if I have the chance.

-

...

There is nothing else in the notebook about her.

Kiyo had stopped writing about the others to focus on his plan. Each time he remembered that, his heart stung. Tsumugi's death, the trial, everything coming after... That was a horrible memory in his mind.

Upon reading Kiyo's statements, Shuichi had an answer to one of the questions he didn't dare to ask Kirumi.

How could she live with so much blood on her hands?

Being a mercenary must be an extremely hard job, especially if you hate killing. So this... this mentality helped her bear through this.

He did wonder if she sometimes wished for her targets to be happy in the afterlife.

... He preferred not to think about it too much.

Shuichi checked his monopad. It was almost time to leave.

After putting his shoes back on, he left the room.

Kaito and Kokichi were already there waiting.

"Oh, are you two waiting for the rest of us?"

The biker smiled. "Yup! We might as well go together, don't you think?"

He nodded. "Yeah... We still have to wait for the others, though."

Time passed, and Miu, Kirumi, and Rantaro left their rooms soon after. They all had noticeably taken a shower, for obvious reasons.

The group went to the dining hall to prepare what could be their last dinner.

They noticed the blackout was finally over, and they could at last cook in peace.

Miu had asked everyone to help- and they did. Shuichi wished Ryoma was there with them, though.

The dinner was nice, although Shuichi could see a hint of nervousness in the entire group.

The last dinner before the end of the killing game, whether they win or lose the fight.

"Alrighty then! We're gonna sleep and tomorrow is the big day! So sleep tight everyone!" Miu announced.

Rantaro chuckled. "I still have some things to do in my lab so go on without me."

How much of it was a lie?

The street artist narrowed her eyes for a moment. "Just don't stay up late. Got it?"

"I know, I know. Don't worry about me, okay?"

She slightly blushed at the remark. "A-Anyway! C'mon guys!"

Shuichi saw Kirumi shooting one last glance at the medic before following the others.

He couldn't do anything but go back to the dorms.

He laid on his bed, wide awake.

He couldn't sleep knowing Rantaro was up to who-knows-what at this point.

Carefully, the violinist opened the door, making sure no one would witness him, and stepped out of the dorms.

He quickly made his way to the main building.

Checking his monopad, he saw Rantaro's icon right in front of Ryoma's lab on the fifth floor, and Ryoma's icon in the lab.

... Were they talking?

Shuichi felt bad, but he didn't have a choice.

He walked through the corridors, but on the stairs leading to the fifth floor, he heard some noise.

Or rather, tapping, coming from both behind the door and from the hallway.

taap, tap tap tap tap, tap. taap tap tap tap, taap taap taap, taap taap, taap tap tap tap, tap tap tap. tap taap taap, tap, tap taap tap, tap. tap tap taap, tap tap tap, tap, tap taap tap tap, tap, tap tap tap, tap tap tap, tap tap taap taap tap tap.

This was from behind the door. And it oddly sounded like...

... Morse code.

A rhythmic tapping of fingers on the door. Quick, but understandable if you are experienced, he supposed.

tap taap taap tap, tap taap tap, tap, taap, taap, taap tap taap taap. taap taap, tap tap taap, taap tap taap tap, tap tap tap tap. taap tap tap tap, tap tap taap, taap. tap tap. tap tap tap tap, tap taap, tap tap tap taap, tap. tap taap, taap tap. tap tap, taap tap tap, tap, tap taap.

This one was from the hallway.

He hadn't mastered morse code at all, he couldn't understand a single thing.

But what if...

Shuichi quietly went down the stairs. If he grabbed a pen and paper, he could try to note the conversation.

If only he could go to Kiyo's lab where he knew were stored many notebooks.

But perhaps Kaede's lab had enough of them as well.

He ran there, grabbed a pen and a notebook, and sprinted back up.

He took out a piece of paper and focused.

taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap. tap tap tap, tap tap taap, tap taap tap, tap. taap, tap tap tap tap, tap tap, tap tap tap. tap taap taap, tap tap, tap taap tap tap, tap taap tap tap.  tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap taap tap, taap tap taap, tap tap taap taap tap tap.

It was a bit hard to follow the rhythm, but he could do it. He had to thank his good hearing for that.

tap taap, taap tap tap tap, tap tap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap tap tap, tap tap taap, taap, tap, tap taap tap tap, taap tap taap taap.

Supposing Rantaro was the one talking here, what is he even saying?

tap tap.  taap, tap taap tap, tap tap taap, tap tap tap, taap.  taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap.  taap tap tap tap, tap tap taap, taap.  taap, tap tap tap tap, tap tap, tap tap tap.  tap tap, tap tap tap. tap tap, taap tap, tap tap tap, tap taap, taap tap, tap. tap tap. tap tap tap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap tap. taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap.  taap tap taap, taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap. taap, tap tap tap tap, tap taap, taap.

taap taap taap, tap tap tap tap. tap tap. taap tap taap, taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap. taap tap tap, taap taap taap, taap tap, taap. tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap taap tap, tap taap tap, taap tap taap taap.

A pause.

taap tap tap tap, tap tap taap, taap.  tap tap, tap tap taap tap.  taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap.  taap tap tap, taap taap taap. taap tap tap tap, tap, tap taap tap tap, tap tap, tap, tap tap tap taap, tap. tap taap taap, tap. taap tap taap tap, tap taap, taap tap.  tap tap tap, tap taap, tap tap tap taap, tap.  tap, tap tap tap taap, tap, tap taap tap, taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, taap tap, tap...

... taap, tap tap tap tap, tap, taap tap.  tap tap.  tap taap taap, tap tap, tap taap tap tap, tap taap tap tap.  tap tap taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap tap tap, tap taap tap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap. taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap.

...

tap tap tap, tap taap, tap tap tap taap, tap.

...

...

tap tap taap taap tap tap.

...

tap tap. tap tap tap tap, tap taap, tap tap tap taap, tap. tap tap taap tap, tap taap, tap tap, tap taap tap tap, tap, taap tap tap. taap taap, taap tap taap taap. taap taap, tap tap, tap tap tap, tap tap tap, tap tap, taap taap taap, taap tap. tap taap taap, tap taap, tap tap tap. tap tap tap, tap tap, taap taap, tap taap taap tap, tap taap tap tap, taap tap taap taap. taaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaaptaaptaaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaptap

Shuichi couldn't even take notes anymore. This was way too fast. He wondered how Ryoma could even understand anything.

taaptaptaaptaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaptaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaaptaaptaptaaptaaptaptaaptaaptaptaaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaaptaaptaaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaptaptaptaaptaptaaptaaptaaptaptaaptaptaaptaptaptaaptaaptaaptaap-

BLAM!

Shuichi jumped at the brutal slam on the door, echoing through the large, empty corridors.

There was a long silence.

taap tap taap tap, tap taap, tap taap tap tap, taap taap. taap tap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap, taap tap. tap tap taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap tap. tap taap. tap tap tap, tap, taap tap taap tap.

taap tap tap tap, tap taap tap, tap, tap taap, taap, tap tap tap tap, tap.

Shuichi could hear Rantaro's heavy breathing from the stairs.

What the hell happened?

He doesn't know how much time he spent waiting for an answer before the tapping came back from behind the door.

taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap. taap taap tap, taap taap taap, taap taap taap, taap tap tap, tap tap taap taap tap tap.

tap tap, taap taap. tap tap taap tap, tap tap, taap tap, tap.

taap tap taap taap, taap taap taap, tap tap taap. tap tap tap, tap tap taap, tap taap tap, tap. tap taap, tap tap tap. tap tap tap tap, tap, tap taap tap tap, tap taap tap tap. tap taap, tap taap tap, tap. taap tap, taap taap taap, taap.

taap tap, taap taap taap, taap. taap, tap tap tap tap, tap taap, taap. tap tap, taap. taap taap, tap taap, taap, taap, tap, tap taap tap, tap tap tap. tap taap tap, tap tap, taap taap tap, tap tap tap tap, taap. taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap.

...

A long pause.

taap, taap taap taap, taap taap, taap taap taap, tap taap tap, tap taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap. tap tap, taap, tap tap tap. taap taap taap, tap tap tap taap, tap, tap taap tap.

tap tap. taap tap taap, taap tap, taap taap taap, tap taap taap.

tap taap taap taap, tap tap taap, tap tap tap, taap. tap tap tap, taap, tap taap, taap tap taap taap. tap tap tap, tap taap, tap tap taap tap, tap.

tap tap. tap taap taap, tap tap, tap taap tap tap, tap taap tap tap.

...

Shuichi felt bad eavesdropping like this.

Perhaps he should leave. This felt so wrong.

He looked away for a moment and left.

He had heard enough.

And he had no right to interfere. If Ryoma was already taking care of the matter, then he had no choice but to leave it to him.

After closing the door of his room, he looked at the notes he had taken.

They looked like a mess. But hopefully, he would manage to translate it.

He put the paper and the morse code guide on the desk and started writing.

...

After what felt like an eternity, he had the full dialogue -if he didn't count whatever Rantaro was rambling about for a moment.

~

- You sure this will work? - Absolutely - I trust you but this is insane I hope you know that - Oh I know don't worry - But if you do believe we can save everyone... then I will follow you - Save ... - ? - I have failed my mission was simply ????? ... - Calm down for a sec. Breathe. You good? - I'm fine - You sure as hell are not - Not that it matters right now ... - Tomorrow it's over - I know - Just stay safe - I will

~

That's all he got.

But at least he got to learn one thing...

... It's that his auditor was indeed Ryoma.

Why, though? They could talk face to face. They have no reason to complicate things for each other. So why the morse code?

He didn't get it at all.

The second thing he learned from this conversation is that Rantaro was not getting any better.

But what could he even do?

Tomorrow was the final day. If they all survive the battle, they would finally be able to rest. And both Ryoma and Rantaro knew that.

Just one more day.

Shuichi laid on his bed, closing his eyes, a lot of things lingering on his mind.

Tomorrow they would fight.

They would end this.

Once and for all.