#second time i wore them? calligraphy ink

[hopeheartfilia]

theese pants truly cant catch a break

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 1

Part One | Part Two

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: racial slurs, some gore 

Summary: You catch Marko’s eye while he’s waiting on an order. (Since my blatant favoritism towards Dwayne was called out, I’m trying something new!) 

“Nin hao ma,” Marko called out as he entered the small restaurant.

The familiar scents of garlic, rice vinegar, and sesame oil wafted out from the kitchen in the back. Marko personally preferred the take-out joint down the block but it was David’s night to choose so he didn’t complain. Much.

The older woman at the counter bowed her head slightly with a smile. He wasn’t a regular but he was there enough that she recognized him. “Hao, hao.”

Mandarin was fluent but these owners spoke Cantonese which he wasn’t as familiar with. He supposed he could take time to learn but he’d been occupied with spray painting and the birds for the past few years. That didn’t leave much time, or desire, to pick up something else. Pleasantries out of the way, he switched back to English. His

“Let me get three orders of the sweet and sour pork, one sweet and sour shrimp, four chow mein, one lo mein, and one fried rice.” After a second of thought he added, “Oh, and some egg rolls.”

The owner wrote it all down quickly and waved the paper slip in between her fingers. “Wait here.”

She disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Marko by himself to admire the scrolls of art that hung on the wall.

In the back, she calmly walked over to where you were hunched over an open textbook, frantically taking notes. It was noisy in the kitchen so you didn’t notice her until she cuffed you on the back of the head.

“Oww!”

“Time to work. Keep an eye on the customer out front,” she nagged in Cantonese.

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” You held your hands up in surrender. But you snagged you stuff when she wasn’t looking and hoofed it to the register before she could chastise you again.

You stood at the register and it was impossible to miss the customer. He had a riotous mass of blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail and wore a patched-up jacket that was simultaneously too busy to look at and too interesting to look away from. He must have felt your gaze because he suddenly shifted his focus from the calligraphy on the walls and stared you straight in the eye.

You held your breath and after a few seconds, his face relaxed and he smiled at you. The smile only added to his attractiveness but you instinctively knew that he wasn’t as sweet as it would lead you to believe.

“You’re new,” he commented.

“Y-yeah. I mean, no,” you sputtered. That was embarrassing. You’d never struggled to speak with a customer before. The fact that he stared without blinking made it worse.

He merely hid his smile behind the fingerless gloves and stuck a thumb in his mouth. A possible oral fixation—? You stopped that thought dead in it’s tracks. It was highly inappropriate to think of a paying customer that way. His actions were none of your business.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to start over. “Actually, my family has known the owners forever. But yes, I’ve only been working here for a few months.”  

“I don’t remember seeing you,” he said crowding you despite the fact that there was a register between the two of you. “What’s your name?”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to defend yourself to him. Which was ridiculous. You talked with chatty customers all the time, no problem.

“My name is Y/N. I always take the busy shifts since my English is better. This is the first time I’ve stayed later than the dinner rush.”

That answer must’ve settled something for him because he took at thumb out of his mouth and gave you the first genuine smile you’d seen thus far. In turn, you smiled back and the mood in the room calmed.

His attention went back to the calligraphy and you opened your textbook to the spot you left off at. Everything was quiet. “So…you like calligraphy?” he questioned.

The next fifteen minutes passed quickly as he got you talking about the restaurant’s décor. He was especially absorbed by the painting of a fiery-scaled eastern dragon, which you also liked. But your favorite was the Chinese phoenix on the opposite wall.

“Did you know the fenghuang is a lucky omen? They’re the bird of all birds in traditional mythology.”

That seemed to intrigue him. “The bird of all birds, huh?”

You latched on to the tone in his voice. “Do you like birds?”

He toed the tip of his worn boot into the linoleum floor. Laughed a little. “Yeah. You could say that.”

He opened his mouth to say more but at that moment you were called to bag up his order. A little reluctant, you excused yourself and went to kitchen. The food was already portioned into their respective white cartons, the top flaps folded in neatly.

Opening up the plastic bag, you quickly arranged the cartons inside and tied a with a small, snug knot at the top. Stapling the receipt to the bag, you drew a smiley face on it with a blue-ink pen. The smile came out a little lopsided but you left it alone, afraid it might turn out worse if you tried to fix it.

You lingered near the door, twisting the plastic in your hands. For some reason, you would be disappointed to see him leave. Which was crazy as you’d only talked for a few brief minutes. Judging by the size of the order, the poor guy probably needed to leave so he could bring other people their dinner too.

Resigned, and uncomfortable with that feeling, you went back out to the register. You made sure to use your most polite voice as you rang him up. The exchange happened normally and he dug a wad of dollars bills from his back pocket. It made you cringe to see the money so wrinkled and spotted with an unknown stain, but you kept your reaction to yourself.  

“Have a nice night,” you wished him as you tried to hand him his change.

He waved it off with a shake of his head that sent his curls bouncing. “Nah, keep it.”

And that was it. He turned to leave, swinging the plastic bag at his side with every step. There was no hesitation on his part and you sighed. Clearly, your interest was one-sided.

Logically, you knew shouldn’t take it personal, but emotionally, you couldn’t shake the feeling of rejection. Remembering that you were in the middle of reading, you went to open your notes again. You flipped through the pages slowly, your heart not in it.

Outside of the small restaurant, the red neon open sign casted hazy lighting on the cracked cement sidewalk. Marko hovered just far enough from the door that you couldn’t see him. He snickered.

Your disappointed sighs had followed him as soon as he turned his back on you to leave and he had to be honest—it delighted him. Good to know that you were attracted to him. He certainly liked you.

Santa Carla was full of interesting people, alive, undead, or otherwise, so it was hard to catch his attention. But as soon as you started spouting off about mythical Chinese phoenixes, he was hooked. Yes, he was into birds, screw you, but he’d never heard that story before.

He supposed you could’ve been talking out of your ass but he didn’t get that vibe from what he had seen. Your eyes lit up when you talked about the image so he bet that you truly did admire it. Your voice was steady for the first time in the encounter, meaning that you were comfortable saying those things, had probably told them to other ears dozens of times.

So, yes, you could be making it up. If you were, he’d be the first to admire your skills. But you seemed too straight and narrow for that. After all, you were actually studying at work. What kind of person did that?

The tantalizing combination of authenticity and passion for your Eastern mythology made him want to talk to you again. That way he could pick your brains more and maybe, if he was lucky, make you stutter again. Still, he wasn’t going to walk back in there like a sap. Not after he just left.  

“Hey!”

His ears twitched and he finally got a look at the guy he’d been watching stagger down the sidewalk the entire time he’d been outside. He chose not to saying anything figuring the human would keep talking anyway, which he did.

“You get that food from here?” The human pointed to the restaurant with his thumb.

Marko nodded, biting on his thumb.

“These chinks, or japs, or whatever any good?”

Marko’s eyes that had been taking in the guy’s appearance the entire time paused in the bird pin he had on his cap. It was yellow orange. Similar shade to the fenghuang’s wings. He took his thumb out of his mouth, his slick fangs descending to bite into his bottom lip.  

The ass hadn’t even noticed, still talking and seemingly some kind of inebriated. Fine by Marko. He liked surprising people.

His clawed hand shot out faster than the human eye could track and plunged into the guy’s chest. A hole was torn clean through. The blood and heart organ felt warm and wet as it stuck to his fingers. “I don’t think you need to worry about that you prick.”

The hole was much more pronounced and blood began spilling out. In the light of the moon, the blood looked black instead of red. The about-to-be-dead offender’s jacket absorbed some of the liquid but the rate at which it poured out was too much for the fabric to soak it all up.  It wouldn’t be long until he was officially dead.

The shock registered late and by the time the human looked down, Marko had already pulled his hand out and was sucking at the blood. He laughed at the other’s confused expression. The last thing the guy saw was Marko giggling and playfully waving his fingers.

The corpse sagged to the ground and Marko wrenched it up by one of the arms. He must’ve used too much force because he heard the shoulder pop off out of its socket.

He shrugged, not really bothered. No one else was out on the streets at this time. Especially not during a weekday. Getting rid of the body would be easy. Strengthening his hold, he flew into the night sky to dump the body where it would never be found.

When he came back, the white bag of Chinese take-out was sitting exactly where he left it. Excellent. Bending down to rip off the receipt, he pinned his new yellow orange bird pin to it. There was a small speck of blood on the glossed paint near the small bird’s wing that he licked clean.

He didn’t mind scarring you, but he didn’t want you so freaked out that you went to the cops. That would make things a little messy and make David pissy.

Following his nose, he wandered over the car that smelled of you. A quick glance through the driver’s window showed a stack of other notebooks and…a ridiculously bedazzled charm dangling from the rear-view mirror. It made him raise his brow, but he decided he liked it.

Mythological creatures, bedazzled charms…he couldn’t wait to find out more about you.

He arranged the paper backed pin under the windshield wiper to keep it from falling or blowing away. Marko prided himself on giving gifts and he wished he could be there to see you find it, but he’d been gone long enough. The boys were already going to give him hell for it. And he was getting hungry, too.

Besides, he knew where you worked. He’d find you again when he had more time.

Revving the bike, he raced down the road, the plastic bag quivering where it hung from his handle bars.

---XXX---

“See you later, Auntie,” you called out. A bell jingled as you pushed the front door open. You weren’t used to working this late and were long past due for sleep.

“Bye bye, drive home safe,” she said in Cantonese, the gruffness failing to mask her fondness for you.

Being in the restaurant all night, the crisp air outside was a nice reprieve. You loved the food, you really did, but oil could be headache inducing after a while. There was a slight breeze, too, that refreshed you with its invisible caress.

Most of the other businesses in this area were closed by now, leaving the streets dim and vacant. Luckily, there was a streetlight by your car so you didn’t have to walk in the dark. There was no such thing as being too safe in Santa Carla.

You shifted your things so you could get the keys and stopped in your tracks when you noticed a small piece of paper on the windshield. You looked around, not seeing anything else out of the ordinary. Still, you couldn’t shake the wariness.

Was it a ticket? A threat? A piece of trash that just blew into the window?

Creeping forward, you recognized the smiley face you had drawn earlier. What the—? When you were close enough to snatch it, you realized there was something weighing down the corner of the flimsy paper. A pin.

You angled it toward the streetlight, unsure what it was. An orange, no, golden orange bird gleamed in the light. Its wings spread wide and were smooth under the pads of your fingers.

Warmth spread through your chest. There wasn’t a message on the receipt, but the smiley face gave it away. This could only have been from that customer with the curls and jacket. Had he been wearing it inside? You couldn’t remember.

Clutching the pin, you sat in the driver’s seat. The car ran idle for a bit and you fiddled with the back of the pin. There was plenty of space on your bare jacket to place it wherever you wished. With the delicate gift attached securely to the jacket, you backed out of the parking spot, a smile on your face the entire way home.

Hopefully, he stopped by again soon.

_______________

My first time writing for Marko! Thumbs up or thumbs down? 

Regardless, East Asian (and any) racism isn’t cool peeps. Let’s do better :) 

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Club Takamagahara (Part 3) The Main Character

Feels. If opportunities were broad sides of barges, the Devs couldn’t hit them.

I’m enjoying the heck out of this, and its not even hard to write.

Enjoy!

“MC!” Caesar’s voice startled you, even though you were awake. How could you sleep when your emotions were in such roiling turmoil?

You had just woken up in a strange place where people exploded everything that was inside themselves and doused the flames in showers of liquor. They poured it on each other, hugged, touched, screamed! If you grew up in the polar north, this was the tropics with its searing heat and blazing sun. You were calm about it, but like a sunburn, as you lay in the dark and closed your eyes the images of flashing lights and heaving bodies was turning into a strange red mark on your brain that you couldn’t ignore.

So you quickly get out of bed and open the closet.  It was Caesar. His expression was serious.

"Ten minutes, dress yourselves up, the store manager wants to see you." Caesar was once again dressed in full costume. He wasn’t wearing the same tight-fitting suit. It was replaced by a see-through silver shirt, tied a rhinestone neck scarf. The back of his tight pants wrapped his buttocks so that the muscle was visible.

“Why?” You ask, as you’re drawn out of the closet in confusion. The other boys were also dressed.

“While you were resting, we went into our interview. The Whale doesn’t want to make a decision without seeing you first.”

Your mind briefly flashes back to the Whale in Siberia. “Whale?”

Chu Zihang spoke. "Japan is surrounded by the sea on all sides, so the Japanese worship the ocean. In the sea, the whale is the most powerful animal, and whale meat is also an aphrodisiac food, so the man with the title of ‘Whale’ should be said to be the most powerful of men." 

“Here, get dressed.” Caesar had produced yet another outfit.

This Cheongsam was different, black. The chest was still covered, but your skin shined through lace roses on your chest. The skirt only barely covered the front and the back. The slits in both sides of the skirt rose all the way to the curve of your butt.

Mingfei peeked through his fingers. “Boss…”

“No time to worry about anything. You have to nail this.” Caesar said.

“Yes.” You held out your leg so he could help you into your fish nets, his fingers gently sliding up your calves and thighs.. “What do I have to do?”

“The Whale interview isn’t difficult, but it’s pass or fail. You have to open your heart to him and be as honest as you can. You can’t hold back or lie, because he’ll see through it. If he likes what he sees, he’ll let you stay.”

He stands behind you and removes the comb from your bun. The hair falls over your shoulder and he starts running a brush through it, pulling through the tangles roughly in his hurry.

“What is he going to ask?” You’re not minding his yanking. In fact, it felt nice to have your hair pulled like this. It gave you a tingly feeling in your scalp.

“I don’t know. If you do your best though, I think, you’ll be fine. But you’re very closed up. You can’t be that way in front of him. So just prepare yourself to be open.”

“Okay…” 

He turns you around. “Lu, get me the make up case.”

“Yes, boss.” 

He’s crouched in front of you, eyes sharp. His eyes search your face. “Your skin is good at least.”

You smile, but you feel nervous. He was right. Being open wasn’t your strong suit.

Lu Mingfei returns with the make up case and Caesar paints your eyes, sweeps a brush through your eyelashes and paints your lips. “I think simple is best in this situation.”

“Little sister… if you don’t feel comfortable. I understand…” Mingfei mumbled.

“I cannot do anything else, right now. If we’re thrown out, it’s over! So please just believe in me.” 

You glance up at him. Mingfei’s cheeks turn a little red. “I… Okay.”

As the four of you rise through the elevator, Caesar continues to explain to you. “The first floor is a stage and dance floor, a place for grand performances and female guests to drink and dance; the second floor is a spa and beauty salon; the third floor is a kaiseki restaurant called "Barnacles" and a tea house. The retired performers have their own suites on the third floor. We can only live in the basement as interns.  Well, it’s more accurate to say that we live in that bathroom.”

“No wonder you’re always bathing.” Your heart is leaping in your chest, but you stay calm on the outside, ever humorous.

“The fourth floor is off limits. Only those invited by the store manager can set foot here. They call it The Sea.”

You step out of the elevator. Fourth Floor.

Doors painted with blue acacia flowers opened one after another and, by each door stood tall, sturdy, black-clad bodyguards. You clasp your hands in front of you, just like you did for the man in the striped suit. Just like the high school student in the manga, you keep your eyelashes low, and your back straight. Only now there was no breeze to lift your skirt or hair.

Of course, the giant whale should live in The Sea, so this whole floor is the residence of the store manager. The main color of the whole floor is sea blue -- sea blue walls, sea blue carpets, sea blue curtains, even the table porcelain are sea blue. The bodyguards have turtles, starfish, and sea crabs tattooed on their bald heads.

In front of the last aquamarine door, a man, tall with a body overflowing with mounds of fat, stood. If this was the sea, and you were going to meet a whale, this man was truly like a male seal. The Baikal Seals live in Russia, in the great lake. They could reach five feet and length and weigh 290 pounds. But this man was far bigger than even the biggest seal you’d ever seen. You look up at him, jaw dropping. This man would probably rule the beaches of Baikal as a seal!

He looked down at you. “The only way to impress the store manager is to show your true self.” He rumbled. “I have never seen a woman do this before. So who knows what might happen? But it will be a clash of heart upon heart. If your woman’s heart can reach him then…”

The Seal Man trailed off into silence and stepped to one side.

The last door slowly swung in. The fresh scent of seaweed comes to your nose, and your ears are full of the sound of water, as if you were facing the undulating sea. 

Behind the door was a rotunda, with a huge ring-shaped transparent fish tank as the wall. Clusters of soft coral grew on the rocks. Sea grass swayed in the artificial waves. Sea turtles slowly floated up, to just touch their noses to the surface. The two-meter long tiger shark has swam around the hall. 

The ocean… again. You think bitterly. The Arctic Sea, then the Deep Sea of Japan, and now this? Most people were overwhelmed by the sight of such a magnificent office. After all, the amount of money to maintain something like this had to exceed the yearly salary of an ordinary person every month! But your eyes grow cold and your frown with annoyance. You’re sick of the ocean.

The hall was very open, with two rows of bookshelves behind an oversized desk. In the light sat a stout man that reminded you of a giant bear. His whole body bathed in aquamarine - from his aquamarine satin suit to his aquamarine leather shoes, with a huge aquamarine ring on his ring finger and a red coral brooch on his chest. He sat on an aquamarine velvet sofa, smoking a thick Churchill cigar, gently stroking a famous breed of Himalayan cat, and shaking a cup of golden alcohol on the rocks, which reflected a splendid light. 

True to his name, the store manager Whale is even more dominant when he appears in private marine settings. He wore huge sunglasses. The top of his head shined like bright tile. Were it not for the blue whale tattooed on the side of his head, you would have thought that he too was part of the yakuza. But seeing it took away from the seriousness of it all.

He looks at you and quirks a single eyebrow. He eyes you up and down once and then nods, looking over to Caesar, Zihang, and Mingfei. “It looks like you weren’t kidding me about her.”

What did Caesar say? You wonder and glance over your shoulder, but the three men were already moving to the aquamarine sofas near the glass walls.

This was it. You take a deep breath. Whatever the question, you would answer with your truth. No matter how difficult, no matter how dark, no matter how cold. If he didn’t like it? Tough. Such rich and privileged men could rarely handle a truth, especially a woman’s truth. Such was reality. You doubted this sort of tactic would let you win, but you had to trust Caesar.

And yourself.

The Whale picked up a brush and dipped it in ink. Instead of writing he froze, looking up at you once again. His eyes behind the tint met your cold challenging ones. He slowly lifted the brush, looked down at a small parchment.

He wrote in quick elegant calligraphy, two characters which he held up for all to see. “Lost Love.”

“Ms. MC. The question I am asking you is about lost love.”

You inhale sharply through your nose and your eyes widen. You’d opened your heart and now, it was like he had taken a long sword and run you through with it! Your ears tingle. Your eyes burn. Your hands, still clasped in front of you, jerk tighter to dig your nails in, a reflex to stem the emotional pain.

“In this line of work, we deal with many women who have no love or have never experienced it. Caesar says you have never experienced the love of a man. So tell me. What can you say about Lost Love?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. The memories spiral up from your heart and through your mind like a long sleeping geyser that had finally erupted, flooding your body and rendering you speechless.

The darkness of the winter solstice comes again, but it’s midday in the arctic. So the pale blush of the reminder of sun was just starting to appear on the low horizon. The sky is full of stars. The green aurora dances over head like a parade. The lighthouse in the distance peals its church-like bell, slowly rotating its sword of light though the thick night air. A flock of white snow geese pass by, in V formation, calling encouragement to each other on the journey.

Renata is sitting alone on stones swept free from the fallen dry snow. Her blond hair is tucked up in her fur lined hood and her body is covered head to toe in the thick coat that was patched over and over in many colors. 

Your breath fogs in front of your face as you sigh and make your way up.

A whale always passed by here this time of day on Christmas. It was a secret you shared only with her and you came up here every year to see it. As you go to sit down next to her, the whale appears, a black shadow moving under the ice.

“Make a wish.” She whispers.

Normally, people wished on stars. But the stars were frozen and inert in the sky, stuck here, just like you. The whale, however, was free to roam as it liked. It had the power to make dreams come true.

After a moment, Renata looked up at you, her pale blue eyes sparkling. Her skin was good, her lips bright and her cheeks flushed against the winter frost. “What did you wish for?”

“The same thing I wish for every year.” You reply warmly.  “I want to be just like the whale. To be free and live in the ocean."

Renata grins and giggles. "If that day ever comes, I hope that I'll be standing right next to you. I'm very happy to have you... by my side.”

Your breath suddenly flies from your lungs and your eyes rise again to the sea of blue around you. The fish, the shark, the coral and the tortoises. It is just like you were once again miles under the sea. 

Your hand goes over your mouth.

You’re speaking with a whale.

“Renata…” Your voice squeaks and your knees shake.

Whale doesn’t understand your words and his confused look brings you back to earth. But you can’t school your expression. You feel like you’re bleeding out and you can’t stop it. Your mind is in a daze of joy and pain. Even though your eyes are swimming with tears, the joy stretches your face into a rapturous smile!

You were swimming free, like the whale in the ocean. You’ve been to the big city. And even though you could no longer hear her voice, you can feel her with you, like a shadow that held the warmth of her hand in yours. Never had it been so strong as now.

“Lost Love?” You look him with this blaze of emotions pouring from your cold dark eyes. “Oh, Whale… there’s no such thing!”

The Whale’s jaw drops. His hand goes limp. The ink brush drops from his hand and falls to the carpet, spraying the ink on his aquamarine shoes.

For a moment, there is silence. And then a wail, like a roar of an injured beast!

The fat man who had greeted you is weeping openly, one arm over his eyes. He’s moaning out something in Japanese that you don’t understand.

Lu Mingfei quietly translates. “That guy's name is Fujiwara Kanousuke. Before he went to The Sea to become a male performer he was a Daiguan-level sumo wrestling star, just shy of rising to the top 'Yokozuna'. His previous girlfriends were all Japanese drama stars, and he was considered a hot and beautiful man in Japan. But then a female fan heard the news that he was getting engaged and desperately jumped to her death. This is the first time he understands how she felt." 

His eyes lower and he falls into silence while the man sobs.

Chu Zihang stands up and wanders away from the group, raising his eyes to watch the sea turtles swimming by.

Whale slammed his fist on the desk and everyone jumped. The cat hisses and flies off his lap in a blur to hide behind the bookcases. “This… this…” He croaked, shaking. Beads of sweat were rolling down his bald head. They moistened his nose and his glasses slipped down his face. “This power… I thought I’d never see it.”

Power…? Your emotions are almost calm but the effort of control has left crescent moon bruises in your aching hands.

“The power to move a man’s heart to action, to reach out and to embrace another woman’s heart, uncontrollably! Yes! YES!”

He leans on the desk, glaring at Caesar, “BasaraKing… I want to keep her here but I cannot accept your offer to make her do something as crass as bidding up fish. I want her to be a challenge to my precious performers! To pour out their love on her to the superlative degree!”

Your eyes widen and you freeze in place. What did that mean?!

Lu Mingfei was equally appalled but as soon as he opened his mouth, Caesar’s hand slapped over it to silence him. “Yes, sir. I’m glad her answer pleased you.”

“I cannot give you an Ikemen persona… you are not Ikemen… no… the opposite. You…”

He pointed a shaking ringed finger at you. “You! Are!”

He swept out his hands and raised his eyes to the ceiling, shouting like an evangelical preacher. “YOU ARE THE MAIN CHARACTER!”

[recurring-polynya]

@trulytaka​ asked: um i’ve always dreamt about a tattoo artist!renji falling for a client AU. it’s okay if you can’t come up with anything, just a suggestion!

How is it even possible that I have never read a Tattoo Artist! Renji AU?? (If there is one, please, send it to me immediately). Anyway, I got way too enamored of this idea, this is not even remotely a drabble, it is 4400 words and it is incredibly self-indulgent, I am absolutely not sorry.

It takes place in America and everyone is Japanese-American, because I am way more comfortable writing about American tattoo culture. I have never actually read a Tattoo Artist AU, I don’t know how they are supposed to go, this is just based on my own experiences getting inked. It’s mostly a story about Rukia and Renji being incredible nerfballs, there are not nearly enough stories about Rukia being a nerfball around Renji.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀     🛹     💕

Izuru Kira found Renji Abarai in the break room, simultaneously trying to cram a burrito into his face and read a Hellboy comic. He was holding the comic open with his elbow in an attempt to avoid spilling guacamole on Abe Sapien.

“Your two o’clock is here,” Izuru informed his distinguished colleague.

“Oh, great!” Renji replied, creasing the foil wrapper into a spout so that he could pour the last of the salsa drippings into his mouth.

“She’s waiting in the consult room,” Izuru went on, watching Renji toss the crumpled foil ball across the room, completely missing the trash can. “Look, have you met her before? A Miss Kuchiki?”

“Just exchanged a few emails,” Renji replied, as he scrubbed his hands at the sink. “Why? Is she scary?”

“Not in the usual way of Abarai clients,” Izuru replied. “I was just… wondering if she was... in the right place.”

“Her request was very specific,” Renji replied, scooping up his comic and the manila folder underneath it. “In fact, I am quite proud of what I came up with for her.” He whipped the folder open.

Izuru stared at it for a moment. “That is so specific.”

“I honestly think this is one of the best tatts I have ever designed. I hope she’s a real weirdo, because not just anyone deserves a masterpiece of this caliber.”

“Mmm,” Izuru agreed. “Yeah. Anyway, if there’s been a, uh, miscommunication, see if you can just… redirect her. Both Momo and I are in today, okay?”

Renji scoffed and stuffed his comic in Izuru’s hand as he marched down the hall toward the consult room. A miscommunication. Renji wondered what was wrong with her. She was probably mousy and wore glasses. Izuru always assumed girls like that would rather have a sad poem about the sea or a sprig of herbs inked on her wrist (conveniently, his specialties). Plenty of mousy girls with glasses would rather rock some fangs or dripping daggers, in Renji’s professional experience.

“Knock knock!” he announced, as he slid the door open. He took one step into the room and stopped dead.

Rukia Kuchiki was not mousy. She did not wear glasses.

Renji didn’t know much about suits. He did not happen to own one himself. But he guessed that Rukia Kuchiki’s suit was expensive, in part because it fit her perfectly, despite her tiny frame. It was jet black, and didn’t have a single speck of lint or cat hair on it. Her perfectly manicured hands were folded neatly on top of her crossed legs. She was wearing very tall, very pointy heels. Their soles were bright red, which Renji had learned from television meant that they were super expensive. He realized that he probably shouldn’t be looking at her legs, even though they were very nice to look at. His eyes snapped up to her face, but that honestly wasn’t any better.

Renji wasn’t often attracted to women, but she had probably the most interesting face he had ever seen-- heart-shaped, with big, dark eyes, a sharp chin, the cutest little nose. Her make-up was subtle and professional, and her hair was swept up with a clip, although it must be fairly short, because a few pieces hung down in front of her ears, and a thick lock dangled between her eyes.

She looked like a mean lawyer from a movie, one that would drive a fancy sportscar like an act of violence. Scary, for sure. But not in the usual way of Abarai clients, who tended toward the large and beefy, not that sharp and sharklike.

That nose, though.

Suddenly, her face split into a big grin. “Hi,” she announced brightly. “I’m Rukia Kuchiki.” She had a deep voice, a very beautiful voice. “You must be Renji Abarai.” Her eyes flicked to his arms. “I mean, of course you are, who else would have those arms? They’re so cool.”

“My arms?” Renji said stupidly. “Are they… famous?”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, well, I follow you on Instagram, and you don’t have any pictures of your face, but your arms are in a lot of the shots and they’re, well, they’re kinda distinctive. Do you think, um, would you mind if I looked at them?”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. It’s not like he wasn’t used to having his arms checked out, but most people were more… subtle about it. Oh, well, it was her dime. “I didn’t do them myself, obviously,” he pointed out, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt so she could see the baboon skull on his left shoulder. A skeletal arm traced down the rest of that arm, complete with an outline of his own hand bones. On the right side, a snake spine coiled around his bicep, ending with a hissing skull. “I mean, it was my design, but my friends-- the other three tattoo artists here-- all helped ink me up.” He plopped down in the chair that sat catty corner to the couch where Rukia was sitting, and held his arms out. “We’re sort of a full-service studio. I’m the skeletons and monsters guy. Izuru, the guy you met on desk duty today-- is good at calligraphy and watercolors and little, itty bitty tattoos. Momo is our nature girl, she specializes in flowers and animals, and she’s great with bright colors. The snake skull was all her. Shuuhei is really into classic tattoo art-- you need a hula girl or a heart with an arrow through it, he’s your man. He’s also incredibly talented at revamping old regret tattoos, there’s good money in that.”

“Mm,” Rukia agreed, finally tearing her eyes away from his forearms to look up at his face, and abruptly turned even pinker. A lot of people fantasized about getting a tattoo and then got a bad case of nerves when it was time to make the leap. Maybe all this was way out of her comfort zone. Renji was trying his best to be friendly and chatty, which usually helped, but he was not used to dealing with this class of lady. He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too familiar.

“Actually,” Rukia went on, pulling on her fingers nervously. “I picked this place specifically because of you. For your work, I mean. I’m kind of a big fan. I saw some of your paintings at an exhibition over at the Fine Arts College, and I just, you know, fell in love. I’d always thought I’d like to get a tattoo someday, and when I found out that you were a tattoo artist, I knew it had to be you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, and I’m babbling and I’m really sorry, I’m just very excited.”

Renji blinked. “You’re not babbling,” he replied slowly. He was sort of hoping she might say some more things about how much she liked his art in her beautiful voice. “Wait, an exhibition at the art school? That must have been at least three years ago, when I was doing my MFA.”

“Er, right,” Rukia looked a little sheepish. “A friend of mine had some work in the same exhibit, you probably don’t know her. My favorite one of your paintings was the one with the Black Lagoon creatures eating hamburgers at a diner, but I also really liked the one that was like a huge monster with a big bone mask stalking through a city, the way you did the shadows was just incredible.”

That particular painting was currently wrapped in brown paper and stuffed behind Renji’s couch. His last boyfriend had told him it was “creepy.”

“Uh, glad you liked it,” Renji managed. “Who was your friend?”

“Her name is Inoue. Orihime Inoue.”

“Oh, the robot girl!” Renji exclaimed. “Er, I mean she drew robots. Constantly. For every assignment. I didn’t mean to imply she was… robotic. In any way.” Jeez, Abarai, pull it together, he chided himself. “Yeah, I remember her. I didn’t know her well, but she sure could draw some tight robots. Is, she, uh, doing well?”

“She’s doing storyboards for a stop-motion animation studio,” Rukia replied.

Renji smiled. “That sounds perfect for her.”

Rukia bit her bottom lip and Renji’s throat went dry.

“So, um, you said in your email that you would have a design for me to look at?”

Renji realized that he was gripping the folder like a doofus. “Right! I did a couple of variations,” he explained, passing it from one hand to the other. “But you explained the concept pretty clearly, and I’m really happy with how the first one came out. I mean, obviously, it’s your tattoo! Please give me any feedback you have, you won’t offend me, even if you hate it! Tattoo designs often take a few iterations, it’s very normal, don’t hold back.”

She was staring at him, those big eyes wide and sparkling. “Can I… see it?”

“Oh! Right!” He shoved the folder at her.

Rukia opened it up and gasped.

“I especially love the way you draw skeletons,” Rukia’s email had read. “Do you think you could tattoo a grim reaper doing a sick kickflip on a skateboard onto my outer bicep? I do lift, so I am pretty jacked, if that makes a difference.”

“It’s perfect,” Rukia sighed in a tiny voice.

“Um, in the first variation (that’s page 2) I added some sunglasses, and in the second one, the grim reaper is flipping the bird and also its head is on fire. I guess I thought that grim reapers should be gender neutral but now I’m wondering if you would have preferred more of a… lady grim reaper?” Renji yammered absently.

“Oh, no,” Rukia murmured softly, flipping through the pages. Renji wasn’t even sure she had listened to a word he had said. “These are amazing. I love the sunglasses, but I also like the way you put little flames in the eye sockets in the first one…” She waved a hand absently. “Oh, and don’t worry, I like a non-binary skeleton.”

A small problem had just occurred to Renji. “Hey, um, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I… may have overestimated the size of your arms.”

“Oh?” Rukia asked, and abruptly shucked off her expensive suit jacket. She was wearing a pale purple sleeveless silk blouse underneath. She held one arm out experimentally, and then flexed. The muscle definition on her bicep made Renji take an involuntary swallow, but the fact that she was wicked cut did not buy him much in the way of real estate.

“I’ll just shrink it down maybe 25%,” he reassured her. “I’ll have to simplify some of the detail on--”

“No,” Rukia frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t do that.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not committed to having it on my arm.” She uncrossed her legs and hefted one high-heeled foot onto the coffee table in front of her. “What do you think? Is my thigh big enough?”

Renji tried to make words come out, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Er… sorry,” Rukia said slowly, tugging at her hem. “I forgot I was wearing a skirt today.”

“Huh?” Renji scrambled to recover. He needed to say something. She looked really embarrassed. Say something! Say something professional about her leg! “Sorry, I was, uh, thinking!” Good, good, now keep going. “Don’t be self-conscious, I see people’s bodies all the time. Bodies are no big deal, we all got ‘em, right?” This was true in the abstract sense, but he knew these were blatant lies as they exited his mouth. Most people’s bodies were no big deal. He had only known her for five minutes, but was certain that Rukia Kuchiki’s thighs were a very big deal. He studied her leg, stroking his chin, like he was some kind of anthropologist of thigh tattoos. Mostly he was trying to figure out what would seem like an appropriate amount of time to look at a person’s thigh, a person who was your professional client that you most definitely did not have the hots for. “There’s certainly plenty of room,” he declared. “But, you know, people are going to see it less. Which is a selling point for some people! It’s just a personal decision that you’ll have to make. It sounds like you had a big vision.”

Rukia gingerly placed her foot back on the floor. “I had actually been wondering if maybe the upper arm was too public, anyway,” she admitted. “The fact is, I just got full access to my trust fund, and this is sort of a celebration, but I may have been a little overeager to piss off my big brother. He’s very stodgy.” She contemplated the area of her leg that was covered by her pencil skirt. “But so are a lot of people in my field. I can wait until I’m running my own company before I get started on the full sleeve of my dreams, right?”

“Worked for me,” Renji replied, utterly lost by whatever she was talking about. “What… field are you in?”

“Oh, finance,” she dismissed.

Finance. Of course. Renji tried to shoo away the weight of disappointment that was settling in his stomach. He was talking to a friendly client who was clearly loaded, loved his work, and was contemplating thousands of dollars worth of future business. He should be thrilled. He should probably be trying to sell her one of his old paintings-- they were only gathering dust, anyway. Renji would never break the studio policy about hitting on clients. The fact that she would surely laugh at him if he asked her to his favorite burger joint ought to make things easier, right?

“This is so hard!” Rukia declared, and Renji was shaken from his reverie. She was just contemplating his draft designs again, though, flipping back and forth between them.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he reassured her. “You can think about it and email me. If you’re happy enough, we can schedule your session, and we’ll work out the details between now and then. Chat it over with your pal MechaHime, she’s got good opinions.” He paused. Momo always said he was too nice during consults, they were running a business, but he couldn’t help it. “Or you can just call back when you’re ready. No pressure.”

Rukia slammed her fist down on her knee. “No! Let’s schedule it! Do I pay now?”

“20% deposit. Let’s go out front, Izuru will ring it up.”

“Perfect.” She looked longingly at the drawings again. “Can I take these with me? You’re absolutely right, Orihime will know what to do.”

Renji wrinkled his nose. “It’s actually against studio policy but…”

Rukia’s face suddenly became very serious. “Then it’s against policy.” She winked at him and smiled. “You should take care of your intellectual property, Mr. Abarai.”

“I never get over to this part of town, to be honest,” Rukia admitted as they walked back up to the front. “Is the taco place across the street any good?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Renji agreed. “Momo and I painted a huge mural on their wall, so they give us free churros.”

“Are tacos a good post-tattoo celebratory meal?” Rukia asked curiously.

“Well, you actually want to eat beforehand,” Renji pointed out. “It’s important to keep your energy up. I don’t estimate yours should take very long, I’m gonna book you a two-hour slot.”

“Ah, okay,” Rukia agreed, and Renji realized belatedly that...maybe… she had been asking him out? No. Surely not. His brain scrabbled for a response, but then he stepped into the reception area and his brain shut down entirely.

“It’s DONE!” Shuuhei bellowed. “Behold my work, ye mighty, and despair!”

Tetsuzaemon Iba, serial client, yakuza enthusiast, and assistant manager at a doggie day care, was flexing. He was not wearing a shirt.

From behind the reception desk, Kira was wearing a dour frown and shaking his head.

“It’s a masterpiece,” Renji declared. “I admit I was skeptical, but it looks fantastic, man. You happy with it?”

“It” was a massive tattoo, covering the wide landscape of Iba’s broad back. It featured a lucky cat, grinning maniacally, its paw held high. It was on fire. The kanji for “lucky charm” was incorporated somehow. It was a disaster. It was perfect.

“How could I not be?” Iba boomed.

“Whoa,” a tiny voice behind Renji said.

Iba’s face went pale when he realized that he was being Peak Iba in front of an elegant, professional woman whose shoes probably cost more than his entire net worth. “Gimme me my shirt!” he demanded of Shuuhei.

“That’s… amazing!” Rukia exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Wow, how long did that take?”

Shuuhei blinked slowly as he passed Iba his shirt. “Five sessions.”

“Well, it’s so cute!” Rukia announced. “You must love cats.”

Iba lifted at the same gym as Renji and watched Momo’s Pomeranian on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was a regular fixture at the tattoo studio, and all four of them liked to drag him, but no one, none of them, had ever roasted him this hard. Renji cursed that no-asking-out-clients rule, because he wanted to buy Rukia Kuchiki her own body weight in tacos and then ask her to be his wife.

“He’s more of a dog person,” Shuuhei supplied.

“Great with dogs,” Izuru added.

“Shut up, you jerks, I am a lover of all animals,” Iba grumbled as he pulled his Hawaiian shirt over his shoulders. “Is this your lawyer, Abarai? Did you finally get arrested for that hairstyle?”

“I have an MBA, actually, not a JD,” Rukia replied matter-of-factly. “And I am his client. Can you show that large man my tattoo design? Is that allowed?”

Renji chuckled, and pulled out his drawing.

“That,” Iba declared, “is a wicked tatt.”

“Oh, you showed me that email!” Shuuhei recalled. “It came out great.” He regarded Rukia. “He was really excited about that one, you made his day.”

Rukia just beamed proudly.

“Are we booking a session, then?” Izuru asked hopefully.

“Yeah, two hours,” Renji nodded.

“Let me just finish ringing up Iba, and I’ll see when you’ve got an opening,” Izuru replied.

“This your first one?” Shuuhei asked Rukia conversationally.

“Mm-hmm,” Rukia nodded.

“Well, you made a good choice. Clean design, mostly black with just a few color pops, should go on quick and easy, and it’ll hold up really well, too.”

“This is Shuuhei, the one I was telling you about, who fixes a lot of bad tattoos.”

“I have never had to fix an Abarai tattoo,” Shuuhei declared. “He’s great with first timers. Very gentle. I’ve fallen asleep while he was inking me.” Shuuhei pointed to the pair of crossed scythes gracing his upper arm. “This is one of his.”

“Oooh, neat!” Rukia agreed.

“You’re being embarrassing,” Renji informed his friend.

“Always,” Shuuhei agreed. “Nice to meet you! I hope I get to see the finished product.” He waved to Iba as he headed off toward the back. “Don’t forget to moisturize!”

“Everyone’s so friendly here,” Rukia said softly to Renji. “This isn’t at all like I pictured it.”

Renji stretched his arms behind his head. “Nah, we’re just a bunch of goofballs who like drawin’ on people. Very lowkey.”

“I guess I’ve thought a lot about the getting tattooed part of getting tattooed, but I never thought of it as… a job. That people have.”

“It’s a great job,” Renji replied. “I love it. I’m just lucky that Izuru over there has enough business sense to keep the other three of us from running it into the ground.”

“That’s certainly the truth,” Izuru agreed, as Iba headed out the door. “Two hours, you said? Renji’s got a 4-6pm block open on a Wednesday, three weeks from now. The 24th, how does that work for you, Ms. Kuchiki?”

“Do you think that’s enough time to settle on a design?” Renji asked. “If you come up with changes, it should only take me a day or two to incorporate them.”

“Oh! Yes, three weeks should be fine. I thought… it might be a little sooner,” Rukia replied, sounding a tad disappointed.

“Abarai’s a busy man, three weeks is actually pretty quick,” Izuru explained.

“Right, of course!” Rukia nodded. “Yes, I’ll take the 24th!”

She then paid her deposit, a process which involved her taking approximately ten thousand items out of her purse, including a full-sized drawing pad, a single fingerless glove, and a Pez dispenser with a duck head. She was the most contradictory person Renji had ever met, and he just wanted to know everything about her. But instead, they were going to exchange a couple of emails about a grim reaper on a skateboard, he was going to spend an hour and a half two inches from her naked thigh in a state of intense, non-sexual concentration, and then he would likely never see her again.

“Okay, I guess that’s it!” Rukia said, stuffing the last of her worldly belongings back into the purse. “Three weeks, then!”

“Three weeks it is,” Renji agreed. “Unless we happen to run into each other at the taco place.”

Rukia blinked. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Right. Ha, ha, of course!” She’d been walking backwards toward the door, an impressive feat in those heels, and she spun suddenly to pull it open.

“It’s a push,” Renji and Izuru chorused together.

“Ha, ha, of course it is!” Rukia laughed nervously, and ducked out.

Izuru stared pointedly at Renji. “Wow,” he said.

“I don’t know what you have against her,” Renji scowled. “So she’s professional. She was really nice. She’s a big fan of my work.”

Izuru cocked his head. “She’s clearly also a big fan of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renji said.

“Look, I’m sorry I implied that a person who drives a Lotus Exige would not be interested in having your weird skeleton doodles permanently placed on her body,” Izuru held up his hands, “but did you really not notice the little hearts and singing birds floating around her head every time she gazed longingly at you?”

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Renji snapped.

“It looked fancy and I asked Shuuhei what it was, okay!”

On cue, Shuuhei burst back into the reception area, Momo close on his tail. “Are we talking about the hot client who has a crush on Abarai?”

“Did you ask her out?” Momo asked breathlessly.

“She’s not really his type,” Izuru mused. “Very corporate.”

Renji frowned. Did he have a type? If his type excluded people like Rukia Kuchiki, he might need to get a new type.

“Who cares, she was adorable!” Momo insisted. “I woulda asked her out.”

“Renji, if you go out with her, can you get me a ride in the Exige?” Shuuhei added.

“I’m not gonna ask her out!” Renji protested. “What happened to the no-hitting-on-clients rule?”

“The rule is no creeping on clients,” Shuuhei correctly. “This is different. She’s clearly into you, big time.”

“Also, she seems non-terrible, unlike the questionable human beings you usually take up with,” Izuru pointed out. “We could relax the rule if it netted you an actually decent partner for a change.”

Renji scowled judgmentally at Izuru, as if his own dating history had been remotely better before he and Shuuhei finally hooked up.

“Oh!” Momo waved her phone. “Speaking of which, I googled her, like you told me to, Izuru--”

“Izuru!” Renji protested.

“--and you were right! She’s not just one of the Kuchikis, she’s the granddaughter!” Momo thrust her phone in Renji’s face. It was some article about some fancy charity event, complete with a picture that was clearly Rukia, dressed in a dramatic black and gold evening gown.

Renji wanted to push Momo’s hand away, but he also didn’t want to stop looking at Rukia in that dress. “The who?” he asked.

Izuru and Momo sighed dramatically in synchronized exasperation.

“Embarrassingly rich old money family? I don’t know what they actually do, but they’re always in the newspapers, donating money for something or other--”

“Billionaire philanthropists,” Shuuhei intoned in a fake deep voice.

“--I heard they’re descended from some famous clan of samurai back in Japan,” Momo ignored him. She jerked her phone back and started tapping at it frantically. “I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the grandson-- Rukia’s brother, I guess. He always makes those lists of top ten hottest bachelors.”

“He’s dreamy,” Shuuhei seconded.

“Impossibly dreamy,” Izuru thirded.

Momo flipped her phone around again, to reveal a picture of a very serious, and very handsome man in a classic three-piece wool suit. Renji supposed “impossibly dreamy” was not an inaccurate description.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen pictures of that guy before,” Renji shrugged. “He’s okay. Rukia has a more interesting face, I think.”

Momo and Shuuhei exchanged raised eyebrows.

“You do like her, then?” Izuru asked, his face brightening. “You’re wrong, by the way, Byakuya Kuchiki has the face of an angel.”

“Rukia says he’s stuffy,” Renji shrugged. “And fine. I like her. She’s cute and nice and had good taste in tattoos. What’s not to like?”

“Are you gonna ask her out, then?” Momo pressed.

“Absolutely not,” Renji replied. “She’s my client. Besides, as you just pointed out, she’s loaded. What’s she want with a scumbag like me?”

All three of his friends groaned.

“You have good delts and sexy hair,” Izuru pointed out.

“You give amazing hugs!” Momo declared.

“You draw fantastic skeletons,” Shuuhei added. “Which, apparently, is relevant to her interests, and not a thing you usually find on Tindr.”

“Also, we’ve already established that she does like you, regardless of whether she has a valid reason for doing so,” Izuru concluded. “So, if you’re at all interested, you really shouldn’t let that stop you.”

“I think you should go for it,” Momo encouraged.

“Me, too,” Shuuhei agreed.

Renji grimaced. She was an amazing girl, too good to be true probably. If she had any sense at all, she would certainly turn him down. But maybe… just maybe… she didn’t have any sense. “Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. “I’ll do it. But not until I’m finished the damn tattoo!”

[hedgebelle]

Cultural References in “They Are Out There Saying”

It took me forever to compile it, but here it is! A brief explanation on all the references to Japanese culture I made in my JayDick Summer Exchange fic “They Are Out There Saying”.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707886/chapters/62420596

When I got the prompt from @paperempires​ calling for the Batman Ninja verse, I was like, you want 16th century Japan? I SHALL DELIVER.

Ok, so first, let’s talk about geography.

Right now, Japan is divided into prefectures, but in the past there were provinces. Check out the map below.

Green: Hida Province

Aka the province where this fanfic actually takes place. Nowadays the Hida-Takayama region in Gifu Prefecture.

Located there is the hidden village of the Bat Clan, the calligrapher's house, as well as real places briefly mentioned: Takayama city with its castle (ruins) and Tenshōji Temple (associated with True Pure Land school of Buddhism), and Shirakawa Village (diamond shape on the map).

Btw, Shirakawa Village is a UNESCO world heritage site and overall a lovely place. If you have a chance to visit it, please do. Here, check it out 😊.

Also, Hida is one of the two places in all of Japan where gneiss, a type of metamorphic rock, can be found. A piece of trivia I learned from my best friend (who might or might have not dared me to fit gneiss somewhere in the fanfic) 😉. The second place where gneiss can be found - again, true fact - are Oki Islands, the archipelago north of the Grand Izumo Shrine.

Dark red: Owari Province

Nowadays part of Aichi Prefecture.

According to the Batman Ninja (the version with Japanese voice over) Joker made himself a feudal lord of this province. Which is kinda interesting, seeing as Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582), one of the key players during the warring states period who started the unification of Japan, was a lord of that domain.

Located in Owari is also Alfred's teahouse 😊.

Yellow: Kai Province

Nowadays, it's Yamanashi Prefecture.

Penguin made himself a feudal lord of this domain. In Batman Ninja he really commanded penguins wearing samurai armour 😂.

Violet line: Tōkaidō Road

A tract that linked Kyoto, a seat of the emperor, and Edo (present day Tokyo), the seat of shogun.

So, traveling the Tōkaidō Road didn't become a thing until the 17th century ^^". But I figured, if castles can be weaponized in this verse, then I can send Jason down this road 😊.

On the side note, travelling the Tōkaidō Road became quite a subject in the culture of the Edo Period (1600-1868). For example, check out these famous ukiyo-e.

Star: the Grand Shrine of Izumo

Very much a real place. One of the three most important Shintō shrines in all of Japan. Worshipped there is Okuninushi no Okami, god of marriage. When praying in the Grand Shrine, a pilgrim is supposed to clap their hands four times, not just two like everywhere else. That's because in that Shrine one is not praying just for themselves, but for their destined partner too. 

The Grand Shrine is located in the Izumo Province - nowadays a part of Shimane Prefecture. 

*Even today Izumo is called a place where fates are being brought together 😉.

Circle: Mt Hiei

Again, a real place, located very close to Kyoto. The Enryakuji temple located on that mountain historically had big influence also due to the fact, it commanded its own army of warrior monks. Some further reading on them, if your interested, is here.

(Btw, the Enryakuji Temple is also a UNESCO world heritage site.)

It was emperor Shirakawa (1053-1129) who one said that the only things he does not have control over are the roll of dice, the waters in Kamo River and the warrior monks of the Enryakuji Temple.

*Kamo River flows through Kyoto.

Square: Inabayama Castle

Nowadays called Gifu Castle, located in Gifu City, Gifu Prefecture 😊. One of few castles built on top of a mountain.

Triangle: Mt Osore

A real place, considered one of the most sacred in all of Japan. A site of Bodaiji Temple. Due to the volcanic activity in the area, there's sulfur both in the air and in the lake right by the temple - hence its striking colour. Otherwise, the landscape is barren. 

It is said that Mt Osore matches the description of Buddhist hell, and holds the entrance to the afterlife. For some further, light reading check here.

If you think to yourself wooow that's a lot of references then fear not - there's more 😂.

Other references

Fuke Sect of Buddhism 

Monks of this sect, as a part of their practise, wore basket hats, played flute, and were on constant pilgrimage. 

Travel, however, used to be heavily restricted, so in exchange for a special travel permit, monks were asked to spy for the shogun. Also, ninja (and other people involved in espionage) were known to donn on the attire of a Fuke Sect monk. For that reason, monks were sometimes asked to play on their flutes to prove their identity.

In Batman Ninja Jason is operating undercover as one of those monks.

Check this, for some further reading.

Direction of the Demon’s Gate

It’s north-west. It was believed that demons and evil spirits enter through that direction, hence it was considered unlucky.

Rokuyō (lucky/unlucky days)

A circle of six days, three of which are thought to various degrees lucky, another three - to various degrees unlucky. The most unlucky one is called butsumetsu and apparently is meant to symbolise the day Budda died.

Ri

Old unit of measurement. 1 ri ≈ 3.9 km ≈ 2.4 mi

Sexagenary cycle

A cycle of 60 years. It was traditionally used in China for time reckoning, and was known in other South-East Asian countries too.

For some further reading click here.

Golden leaf

Kaga Province (north-east of Hida; now part of Ishikawa Prefecture) is known as the biggest producer of golden leaf in all of Japan.

Zen Circle

On the photo below:

It’s an important symbol in Zen Buddhism that stands for enlightenment, absolute, the void. In Japanese calligraphy and sumi-e (ink painting), drawing the circle is seen as an expression of absolute freedom of the mind that lets the body create. If it’s closed, it symbolises perfection. If not, it becomes an expression of wabi-sabi - a concept in Japanese aesthetics that translates to beauty of imperfection.

Kappa

One of the fantastic creatures that appears in many Japanese folktales. Kappa is a water demon that (unsurprisingly) dwells in lakes and rivers. It is rather mean and known to cause mischief, but surprisingly enough - very fond of cucumbers.

Ogre (oni)

One of the fantastic creatures featured in Japanese folklore. Usually portrayed with red skin, horns, and a tall, hulking figure; as a concept somewhat similar to demons or devils, as they represent everything evil and harmful (and also, oni reside in the eight great hells). It was believed a human wicked beyond any redemption might turn into an ogre.

Haikai-no renga

A genre of linked verse poetry. It is made of 18 or 36 verses that alternatively have 17 (5-7-5) or 14 (7-7) syllables. It is less formal than an earlier genre, renga, and as such is supposed to be lighter, witty, comical even. There aren't as many rules dictating which verse is supposed to have a direct allusion to which, how many times and in which verses certain motives (like flowers, moon, seasons) can be mentioned. 

Still, the first verse is supposed to contain kigo, so a word or phrase that indicates the season - in the fanfic it’s May (rice planting season) which is classified as early summer in the old lunar calendar - or in some other clever way gives an allusion to the environment the poetry meeting took place in. The first verse is also supposed to be written by the guest of honour which is why Jason was asked to compose it 😊. Important is also the third verse, as that’s where the theme of the whole haikai-no renga is officially established. 

From the first verse of haikai-no renga evolved possibly the most recognisable form of Japanese poetry - haiku.

Lovers’ suicide

A suicide committed together at the same time by the lovers whose shared affection defied the rules of society and/or obligations to their families. Before commiting the act, they would usually pray to be reborn together on the same lotus flower in the Pure Land. 

Lovers’ suicide is a theme featured in plays for pupper theater bunraku, most prominently The Love Suicides at Sonezaki written by Chikamatsu Monzaemon.

Pure Land

In a nutshell: According to some schools of Buddhism in Japan, Pure Land where people can be reborn and practice pure version of Buddhism, thus are able to finally gain enlightenment (which is impossible when alive, because the practice in the land of the living is warped, impure).

Please, take my way too short explanation with a grain of salt. It might not seem that way, but I’m not all that knowledgeable about Buddhism ^^”.

Nenbutsu prayer

Practised in True Pure Land Buddhism. It’s basically a recitation of a short phrase that translates to “I take refuge in Buddha Amida”.

Kannon

The bodhisattva associated with compassion.

Vengeful ghost

It was believed that a person who harboured a deep grudge or hatred in their last living moments towards those who had wronged them could become a vengeful spirit.

 *Hoichi the Earless - one of the traditional horror stories. In this story, vengeful ghosts (of the fallen Taira clan) want to take with them a blind monk because he beautifully plays on biwa (traditional instrument). Once his brethren realise the danger Hoichi is in, they paint his whole body in Buddhist sutra, safe for his ears. Because of that, when the ghosts appear again, Hoichi - safe for his ears - is invisible to them. Spoiler alert, the ghosts take Hoichi’s ears, thus the earless in the title. Check out here for some further reading.

Ten Virtues of Tea

Text attributed to a Buddhist monk Myōe (1173-1232. It lists all the properties of green tea beneficial to the human body and soul. 

Translation can be found here.

Portuguese firearms

Historically, the first Europeans Japanese people came in contact with were Potuguese traders. They introduced many European goods including firearms. 

On the unrelated note, the Potuguese in that time period were referred to as Nanbanjin (南蛮人) which translates to southern barbarians.

Eight great hells

...are the concept of hell in the traditional culture in a nutshell. The concept itself was heavily influenced by Buddhism. 

Further reading is available here.

Shinto wedding ceremony

While it incorporates many rites, the most core one (as far as I know) features the groom and the bride taking turns drinking sake (rice wine) from three cup, each slightly bigger than the other. When drinking, they are supposed to sip three times. 

In feudal times, wedding ceremonies started with an elaborate bridal procession to the groom’s house. There, the dowry would be presented, blessings would be given, and then the bride and groom would take turns drinking sake as described above. 

...Okay, I believe that’s it. Thank you for reading!

[midnightartemis]

Chapter One

Rated M - See AO3 For Tags - SFW - Chapter Two - Masterlist

“Do you fear death, young Skywalker?”

A dark marble hallway stretched out in front of Ben. It seemed to go on forever. With every step, the hall only grew longer. 

“Do you fear the darkness?”

He broke into a run, heart pounding in time with his feet hitting the marble floor. Ben ran as fast as he could and yet the hallway only grew longer. His feet only grew heavier. Something chased after him, but he did not look back.

“So much like your grandfather and, yet, so weak. So afraid of the power you wield.”

Whatever chased him was gaining on him. It was futile to run, Ben knew that. Still, he kept going, even as his feet grew heavier and heavier with unseen weight.

“You could do it, you know. You could finish what he started. His blood runs through you.”

The voice came from behind him. The words the darkness hissed wrapped like snares around his feet. 

“Let me into your mind and your enemies will know your power. They will learn to fear you, truly. They will learn what you are capable of. What you were born to do.”

Every step was a struggle now, but he could see the end of the hallway finally. Just a few more steps. Just a few more meters. 

“Your fate is decided already, young Skywalker. Do not fight it. Do not fight me.”

He reached for the door as his feet ceased to work. He wasn’t strong enough to make it. He wasn’t strong enough to not look back. A low chuckle came from behind him.

“They will never understand you. They will never save you. Give into me.”

Ben turned and faced the darkness behind him. In seconds, it swallowed him into bottomless depths. 

He woke with a jolt. A thin layer of cold sweat covered his skin and soaked into the sheets of his bed. Ben slowly pushed himself up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

Every night it was the same. Nightmares. Terrors. The voice in his head eating away at him with all he already knew; his end would not be a happy one.

This night… This night was the first night Ben had not even touched the door at the end of the hallway. It was as if the voice was growing stronger and Ben weaker with it. Ben shook his head. It was nothing more than a nightmare. It had to be. 

He looked around his single bedroom. There wasn’t much there. His trunk sat half unpacked on his desk chair. A pile of books had somehow ended up on his desk with a new set of parchment and ink. Whoever had left the books had also placed new robes in his wardrobe. One of his mother’s assistants or Threepio. Ben knew she couldn’t be bothered to do it herself. 

The only thing Ben truly owned was his calligraphy kit and a small pile of muggle books that sat in his suitcase. The rest of it was all… Noise. 

A flicker of movement brought his eye to the window that looked out into the depths of the Black Lake. Ben watched as a school of fish swam by in the dim green light that somehow made its way from the surface. 

It was his last day completely alone. In a few hours, the halls of Hogwarts would be filled with students excited for the start of the semester. The halls would fill with chatter of hopes and dreams and plans for classes. Friends separated by the summer would be reunited. And Ben would be forced to sit in the Great Hall and watch as everyone pretended to enjoy Headmaster Kenobi’s Start of Term speech. 

At least now he wouldn’t have to go completely out of his way to avoid seeing Rey. The last week had been hell to see her face. It was nearly impossible to make himself sit still and not tell her how sorry he was for what he said in the forest. 

He had no choice; he knew that much. After what happened in India…

He had no choice. 

☽◯☾

Ben’s plan, if he could manage it, was to avoid the feast at all costs. After three years of it, he had come to understand that festivities weren’t for him. The Prefects would come looking for him in the dormitory. While he knew he could use the cloak to hide in his room, Ben also knew that the dormitory would be raucous after the feast was over. It was better to find one of the many nooks and crannies throughout Hogwarts and wait it out until everyone went off to bed. 

He had a few places to hide throughout the castle, but his favorite spot was near the top of the North Tower. A window was tucked away behind a set of stairs. There was just enough room to squeeze himself into the window well (though it was getting harder every year as he grew). The window overlooked the gates to Hogwarts and most of the grounds, giving him a birds-eye view of most of the castle. The best part was that unless someone knew exactly where to look, they would never find him. 

A thick fog rolled over the castle grounds midafternoon as Ben sat in his window well and read. In India, he’d picked up Wuthering Heights over the summer and found himself wandering the moors with Catherine and Heathcliff. He found himself wishing to be back at Hogwarts, wandering similar moors. Now that he was back, the words of Emily Brontë rang even clearer. 

For all its flaws, he considered Hogwarts home. The castle was only home he’d ever really known. He’d spent much of his childhood running around its halls, discovering its many secrets. Though not all of them, if the Room of Requirement proved anything. 

As a line of carriages pulled by winged skeletal horses approached the gates of Hogwarts, Ben closed the book and tapped his wand against the cover. The Wuthering Heights cover formed into an old copy of History of Magic as transfiguration magic took hold. It was bad enough to be caught reading for fun. It was worse to be caught reading muggle literature. 

Ben watched the carriages for a moment as rain began to fall over the castle. Students in their black robes made the mad dash up the stairs and through the main doors. From here, the only thing not visible to him was the lake where the First Years would be making their crossing, even in the rain. 

He remembered what it was like to make that first journey across the lake. He remembered how excited he was for his first year. He remembered bitterly, painfully how quickly it all fell apart. Imprinted in his memories were the terrified looks of his classmates as the sorting hat called out Slytherin. It was impossible to forget how quickly everyone had turned on him. 

That was until Rey. 

He’d been so quick to dismiss her, to write her off until that day in the Room of Requirement. 

Ben had to stop thinking about her. What was done was done. It had to remain that way. 

He turned to the window once more and watched as a raindrop raced down the glass. A moment, later, Ben felt a chill race up his spine. He froze as the weight of eyes hit him. Someone was watching him. Every hair on his neck stood on end as his eyes were drawn to the courtyard below. The last of the students were leaving the carriages, but all were too busy running from the rain to look up and see him. 

In the peripheries of his vision, a darkness shifted at the edge of the forest. Ben’s eyes darted to it, but found only branches rocking against the storm’s wind. Dread latched onto his gut and began to sink. He knew far too much about the wizarding world and the Forbidden Forest to fully believe he was giving into paranoia. But it was far easier to cling to the idea that his eyes were playing tricks than to accept that something or someone had been watching him. 

Perhaps it was time to find a new hiding place. It was growing dark which made it impossible to read without a light source anyway. Besides, the feast would be beginning at any moment. With it, the entire school, students, professors, ghosts, and all would be preoccupied for a good hour at the least.

Ben slipped from the window sill and set off down the stairs. He didn’t bother to put on his cloak. He knew the castle well enough to pass through unseen without it. His luck turned, however, when he turned a corner and ran almost straight through Peeves the Poltergeist. 

“Sulky Solo wandering alone?” Peeves cackled and alighted atop the suit of armor he had been messing with. Likely, he had been working on loosening the suit’s fastenings so it would fall apart the moment a first year touched it. “Skipping feasts. Naughty, Naughty!”

“Bug off, Peeves.” 

“Ooooo,” Peeves swept down to circle Ben as he walked. “Someone’s got their trousers in bunches.”

Ben said nothing and Peeves floated into his path to stop him. One wrong move with Peeves and Ben knew the poltergeist would find every opportunity to torment him for the rest of the year. The last thing he needed was to be nearly killed by a chandelier this year. Before Ben could say anything, footsteps rounded the corner behind him. Peeves vanished with a screech, leaving a sulfuric stench behind him. 

“Mister Solo,” called a low, naisily voice. 

Ben gritted his teeth and turned to face Professor Tarkin. The man was as thin and gaunt as ever. He wore his usual dark grey robes of hard angles and straight lines that matched his posture and personality. 

“You are to be in the Great Hall at this time.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ben nodded. There was no denying that. 

“As it seems you have lost your way, I will escort you there. Afterwards, I would like to speak to you in my office.” The professor turned stiffly and began down the hall in the direction of the feast. After a moment of cursing Peeves, Ben followed. To his dismay, Professor Tarkin led him to the large wooden doors that guarded the entrance of the hall, just as they were closing behind the sea of First Years parading inside. 

Eyes turned to him as he quickly made his way to the end of the Slytherin table. It didn’t help that he was the only one not in his robes, just the white button down and slacks. At least most of the student body was distracted by the arrival of the first years. All but Poe Dameron, of course, who smirked at Ben from the Gryffindor table. Ben scowled back. He couldn’t wait to spend a majority of the year with that pompous git. 

Poe Dameron hadn’t always gotten on his nerves. There was a time where Ben had been close to him, even called him a friend. That quickly went out the window when Poe realized that no one wanted to be around the strange, lonely weirdo. Poe was smart, charismatic, and a real dick for laughs. Girls and boys flocked to him in droves. Every year the Poe Dameron fan club got bigger. Poe’s attention was swept away by Zorri Bliss, his on again off again infatuation for the last year. 

Ben settled into his seat as Professor Tano climbed the steps to the professors’ table and stood beside the Sorting Hat. She unfurled her list of names and one by one the terrified looking First Years took their turns wearing the hat. Unlike last year, there were no surprises, no mysteries. The Sorting Hat worked through everyone with little hesitation. As if she knew he was thinking of her, Rey’s eyes caught his own across the call. Her face hardened, but she didn’t look away from him. She was challenging him to be the one to break first. 

Maybe she knew he was already broken. 

Ben looked away. 

With the hat’s announcement of Ohino Zaya’s placement in Gryffindor, Headmaster Kenobi stood. He waited for the Gryffindor table to settle before speaking. Though being nearly seventy, the man was anything but frail and weak (most wizards lived to be well into their one hundred twenties, at least). He was one of the most powerful wizards to ever live, after all. 

“With the conclusion of our sorting ceremony, I would like to give all a hearty welcome to Hogwarts. Whether you are new or old to these halls, know that Hogwarts will always welcome you home. I would like to take a moment to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all who wish not to die an untimely death. On that note, let the feast begin!” Headmaster Kenobi gestured to the tables and a moment later almost every square centimeter was filled to the brim with food.

Ben wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to be there, but he made himself eat anyway. He listened to two of the Slytherin prefects, Bazine and Grummgar, complain about First and Second Years. They were the two new Fifth Year Prefects and couldn’t be more opposite of each other. Bazine was tall, skinny as a broomstick, with jet black hair cut to a severe line at her jaw. Grummgar, on the other hand, was large with a thick neck and bulging brow. No one knew if the odd pair were dating or just friends. They seemed equally affectionate and callous towards each other. Most were far too scared of Bazine to ask. Bazine caught Ben listening in to their conversation and flicked her dark eyes over him with a smirk. 

Ben shifted and turned his gaze to the head table filled with professors. Amilyn Holdo, Head of Hufflepuff and Professor of Biology, chatted happily with Deputy Headmistress Ahsoka Tano, Head of Gryffindor and Professor of Transfiguration. They were joined every once in a while by a comment from Maz Kanata, Professor of Divination and owner of the Leaky Cauldron. As if the tiny half-goblin woman felt his gaze, Maz turned her coke bottle glasses in Ben’s direction. Ben swallowed and looked away. He had no intention of taking divination again this year, not even after Maz’s insistence. It had only made his dreams worse and made him question if they were only dreams at all. 

At the other end of the table, Professor Tarkin had taken his seat and scowled over the student body even as he ate. Ben could feel the Professor’s annoyance even at the other end of the hall. The wizard’s mood was only made worse by being sat between who Ben could only assume were Professor Tarkin’s least favorite people- Professor Kuill, Head of Ravenclaw, and History Professor Lor San Tekka- who were in the processes of yelling to each other over him. 

At the center of the table, Luke looked to be arguing with Kenobi. Though Ben couldn’t hear his uncle, he knew the argument wasn’t going in his favor if Kenobi’s passive face was any indicator. Kenobi said something in return and Luke pinched his mouth shut before sitting back. 

A roaring laugh came from the farthest corner of the head table and Ben didn’t want to look. His father and Chewie sat together, treating the feast more like a party than a school event. He knew exactly what story they were telling to the First Years who would listen. It was the same one every year about how Han’s prized Millenium Falcon broom made the Kessel Run in under twelve days. The First Years ate it up even though the story was exaggerated at best. Bullshit at worst. 

The feast lasted far too long. The students were taking their time working through the courses, preoccupied with catching up and getting to know the new students. By the time desert was finished, even the professors had begun yawning. Kenobi stood and waited for the chatter to die down and eyes to turn to him. 

“Delicious. The term feast never disappoints. I wish you all the very best in your academic endeavors this year and a very happy start of term. Hogwarts welcomes you always. First Years, you will be escorted to your dormitories by your Prefects. The rest of you I trust will find your way!”

With that, the Great Hall erupted into a giant crowd of students heading for the main door all at once. Ben stood and slipped out the nearest side door. The hall just beyond was narrow, nothing more than a forgotten passage used mostly by professors. No doubt some of the professors would be using it just the same as him, so Ben didn’t stay long. He slipped back into the main halls of the castle, but turned to his left instead of heading for the sea of students at the main stairs. 

Tarkin would be expecting him. At that thought, Ben dragged his feet. He had no idea what the professor wanted to speak about. Part of him was scared to know. He didn’t have much of a choice though. There was no avoiding the inevitable, so Ben made his way to the dungeons and towards the potion master’s office.

Ben walked through the open classroom door. He stopped as his eyes landed on the closed door to the storage room. Memories rushed at him of Rey scowling at a stubborn stain. Her stifled laughter at something he said (he wasn’t funny- he knew that). The way her cheeks flushed pink after she kissed him on the cheek. 

Each memory felt like a stab to the gut. A curse on his soul. 

“Enter.”

Ben stepped inside the circular stone room. Jars and vials filled the short shelves against the walls. A round table sat in front of them filled with books and parchments all organized with military precision. Tarkin looked up from his work, his grey eyes landing on Ben. 

“You wanted to see me, Sir.”

“Yes. Mister Solo. Please, sit.” Professor Tarkin folded his hands in front of him and waited for Ben to sit down. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

Ben shifted in his seat. What future? He couldn’t see one, only darkness. “No, sir.”

“Hm.” Professor Tarkin looked him over with cold, calculating eyes. “A bright young boy such as yourself should be thinking about these things. You are entering your Fourth Year. O.W.L.s are not far away. You excel in your classes and far surpass your classmates. With your family, you can have any position you desire.”

Ben glowered.  Is that all he would ever be? Ben Solo, son of the Prime Minister, nephew of the man who defeated Darth Vader and Darth Sidious. Did they know who his family really was? The dark secrets they held? No. They never would. They would never understand who their heroes were. 

“I want nothing to do with my family.” Ben spat.

If Tarkin was at all surprised by Ben’s words, he hid it well. “Of course, Mister Solo. You are accomplished in your own regard.”

Not enough for his mother. Though she had given up on trying to make him make friends, make a good name for himself long ago. Now she just shuttled him off half-way across the world to be rid of him. Ben hadn’t stepped foot in Leia’s home in more than a year. 

“Much like your grandfather.” 

He scoffed. His grandfather. There was only one whom Tarkin, or anyone, would have any interest in. Ben doubted Professor Tarkin cared for his father’s muggle parents. “Darth Vader.”

“Anakin Skywalker.” 

Ben stilled. No one ever spoke of his grandfather to him. Everything he knew, he knew through books, through articles in the Daily Prophet, though hushed gossip. Ben forced himself to meet Tarkin’s eye. The professor’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Ah… No one has told you about your grandfather, have they?”

Ben shook his head. “You knew him?”

“He was my pupil for a short time. Same as you.”

This man knew his grandfather. This man knew everything no one would tell him. Ben sat up straighter. “What was he like?”

“Intelligent. Resourceful. Ambitious. A proud Slytherin.” Tarkin lowered his voice as if he were afraid someone would be listening in. “Everything they say about him is false. They were afraid of him, afraid of his power. They did what scared wizards do, they cast him aside. Took everything from him. Your grandfather is not the man you think he is.”

In the back of his mind, Ben heard a dark voice whisper. It wasn’t the one from his dreams, however. No, this voice was familiar, one he’d heard since he was a child.

“Listen to him… He tells the truth of it… Listen, young Skywalker, and you will see…”

Read Me on AO3 - Chapter Two - Masterlist

[the-hidden-writer]

A Second Chance: Chapter 1

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary:  Miles learns the identity of his "dead" mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn't really know how to family properly.

[Chapter 2] | [Chapter 3]

Comments make my day! :D

The Box

Hazakura Temple was one hell of a case, and he’d seen some weird ones over the years. It was like fate how he, Dick Gumshoe, always got roped into those weird ones. Or maybe you could say they were the exciting ones. Depends on who you ask, he thought, as he climbed the stairs of Elise Deauxnim’s cottage- each step creaking dangerously as he went.

It usually wasn’t his job to search victims’ houses, but he thought this time he owed it to Maya. The poor girl lost her mother, and if there was anything in there he could give to her he would find it.

One cupboard at a time.

Even for a famous children’s author, Elise Deauxnim didn’t seem to have many possessions. All he’d found were books and clothes. Even her house wasn’t that big, though it was pretty secluded. Which would make sense since she was Misty Fey in hiding.

God, that was weird to think about. He’d read his nieces a bunch of her stories and secretly enjoyed them too. He’d never be able to do it without thinking of the author’s corpse now.

Clink! Thud!

The others were probably packing up the silverware to give to charity downstairs. Death was so strange… one moment a person’s there, living their life as always, and then the next they’re gone.

He contemplated his own death as he sifted through the belongings of Ms. Deauxnim’s bedroom. Nothing special. There was a neatly-made double bed with a floral quilt, a small wooden bedside table with a shaded lamp, and a few wardrobes full of various clothes.

In the final wardrobe, the small white one, he finally noticed something valuable.

Among the dresses and cardigans, somewhat hidden behind them, was a familiar lengthy, deep purple robe. Dick had been to Kurain village so he knew what it was almost immediately. At least he knew they were in the right house.

At least he could give something to Maya.

Gently, he tugged at the robe. It was stuck. So he pulled again, a little harder.

It remained glued to the rail.

So he thrust his hand far into the wardrobe, half expecting to find Narnia, and felt around with his large fingers until he had a fistful of robe. Sucking in a breath, he yanked it out.

Crash!

He cringed.

Good news: he had the robe. Bad news? The clothes hanger that the robe had been attached to had fallen to the ground.

Sighing, he went to pick it up, when he noticed that it hadn’t fallen on the bottom of the wardrobe. Instead, it had fallen on what looked like some sort of gift box.

Curiosity taking over him, he carefully took it out. It had yet another floral pattern on it (she sure was into flowers, huh) though this one was a lot more faded than the one on her bed or her curtains. On the lid, written gracefully in ink, was the word “Kurain”.

Bingo!

He crouched down onto his knees and slowly opened the box. Inside, was a folded robe- one much smaller than the one hung up. Maybe once belonging to a child? Under that was an old photograph of two girls, desperately trying to fix a broken vase of some sort. It was adorable.

There was also a small pendant in the shape of a magatama, which looked like it could open.

He tried to open it, but his fat grubby fingers kept on slipping off. Maya could probably do it.

Satisfied with his find, Dick leaned over (wobbling slightly on his knees) to close the wardrobe door when he noticed something behind where the box had been.

Another, smaller box.

He took it out, and immediately almost dropped it again.

On the lid, written in that same ink calligraphy was one word.

“Edgeworth.”

Dick’s eyes went wide. What was he supposed to do? Open the box? That might cost him his salary… but he couldn’t not open it.

“Sorry, Mr Edgeworth.” He muttered as he took off the lid.

He stared blankly at the box’s contents for a few moments, the reality of what was inside not sinking in, and after what seemed like way too long he finally uttered two words.

“Holy moly.”

He needed to call Mr Edgeworth.

~._-_.~

“Mr Edgeworth, Sir!” Gumshoe cried, thrusting open the door so that it ended up hitting the wall with a loud bang.

Miles winced and sighed. At least he could always hear Gumshoe coming, so he had a few seconds of bliss to mentally prepare himself. He clicked his pen and looked up from his desk.

“Detective.” He greeted.

What he wasn’t expecting was the large man to be noticeably more out of breath than usual, huffing and puffing with a large white evidence bag under his arm.

Miles couldn’t help but groan when he noticed the lack of label on the bag. “You’re not supposed to take evidence without registering it first, Detective.”

Gumshoe scrunched his nose in apology. “I know pal, but this is important, I promise.”

He flopped onto the couch and started to fiddle with the zip on the bag. Miles sighed again. It was evening, and since Gumshoe had been investigating Misty Fey’s residence, which was a good few hours away by train, he hadn’t been expecting a visit from him today. Not that he particularly enjoyed his visits...

Tapping his finger impatiently, Miles waited for Gumshoe to finally take out the contents of the bag. He was underwhelmed to say the least. It appeared to be a small rigid gift box of some kind.

“C’mere, sir.” Said Gumshoe as he thumped the seat next to him and looked up at him expectantly.

Miles relented and stood up to join the detective.

“You know,” he said, “when I received your text, I believed this to be something urgent.”

Gumshoe shrugged. “It is, pal. I wouldn’t’ve disturbed you if it wasn’t. Don’t you trust me Mr Edgeworth?”

“Of course.” He said, sitting down. Miles didn’t, but decided that this wasn’t the time to reveal that particular secret to his sensitive colleague. “So what is it?”

All of a sudden Gumshoe visibly steeled himself. His expression became soft, but his shoulders were tense. All of his usual energy solidified into something that resembled that of a detective’s. Miles had seen this multiple times before, and it was always when Gumshoe had bad news to tell. It was unnerving to see the man do it in their own conversation.

A bad feeling began brewing in his gut.

“So, I was checking Misty Fey’s house, right?”

“Yes.” He answered, a little too quickly.

“And… she was the one who channelled your dad, wasn’t she?”

Miles didn’t have to answer that. That bad feeling only worsened.

“Well uh, I found this and…” Gumshoe paused. “I think you’d better take a look for yourself.”

Slowly, as if he were handing something fragile to a small child, Gumshoe passed the ominous box to him and gestured for him to open it. What immediately piqued his interest was the fact that it had the word “Edgeworth.” written neatly on the lid.

So, with an unhealthy amount of caution, he began to lift it...

“Hey!”

...and almost fell off the couch at Gumshoe’s outburst.

“What?” He asked, disgruntled.

The detective turned to face him. “I uh just wanted to say, whatever’s in there, that I’m here for you Mr Edgeworth. Whatever you need. I knew you should have this the moment I saw it, no questions asked.”

“I see.” Was all he said in reply, as his curiosity was beginning to eat away at him with every passing second.

He opened the box.

...and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been half-expecting something to jump out.

A bunch of papers. Newspaper articles, mostly. He recognised the majority at once- they were all reports of his father’s death. The DL-6 incident. He furrowed his brows, wondering why Gumshoe assumed that he hadn’t read each one of these articles a million times over already.

Then, whilst removing them, he noticed more faded newspaper clippings underneath. However, this time they were ones he didn’t recognise. They were far smaller, from a local company he hadn’t heard of, and difficult to make out on the yellowed paper. But they all shared one common sentence:

“Defense attorney Gregory Edgeworth wins case.”

The original shock wore off quite quickly as soon as he thought through it logically. Reading them one by one, it started to become clear to him. It made sense that Misty Fey would have researched his father’s career- the police asked her to channel his spirit after all. And his father was good enough of a defence attorney to have various reports written about him.

This box was nothing more than an accumulation of research resources.

Through the corner of his eye he noticed that Gumshoe was still fiddling with his hands nervously. The detective caught his gaze and nodded at him to look further into the box. Obviously he hadn’t come across what he wanted to show him yet.

Great.

He tentatively took out those newspapers, flicking through them with his pale fingers to be certain that he hadn’t missed anything. See, newspaper clippings made sense for research.

What didn’t make sense was what was lying beneath them.

A photograph. Slightly crumpled, yellowed, and worn at the sides, but a photograph nonetheless. Yet the quality of the picture was of no interest to Miles. No, what immediately caught his attention was the pair of smiling faces.

The photo was of a young man and woman. His father and a woman, with one arm wrapped lovingly around his waist and a head resting on his tall shoulder. Dad and…

He gulped.

“...Misty Fey?”

He phrased it as a barely audible question, even though he knew deep down that Gumshoe was as in the dark as he was. The poor detective nodded anyway.

Adjusting his posture to rest his elbows on his knees, Miles used both hands to grip the photo tightly as if it would disintegrate in his hold.

It didn’t. It was real.

“How… how did they know…”

Again, he knew Gumshoe didn’t have a clue. He just needed to get the words out. He had a tiny, impossible suspicion that was starting to make him feel sick.

“Um, sir?”

His head snapped to look at Gumshoe, who yet again nodded towards the box. Miles just stared at it in fear.

What other secrets could this damn box possibly hold?!

Turns out, it was an open envelope. Miles braced himself to perhaps learn something new about his father. He took it out and turned it over. And almost had a heart attack.

It was addressed: “To Miles.”

Enough was enough. Quickly, Miles threw the envelope face down, held his head in his hands, and let out an odd whimpering sound.

He could sense Gumshoe shuffling towards him and could visualize him outstretching his arms.

“Don’t.” He commanded weakly, to no avail. He was still engulfed in the detective’s arms.

“Did you read it?” Dick asked softly.

“No.” Miles replied, then thought for a second. “...Did you?”

Gumshoe took his arms away from him in order to scratch the back of his own head nervously. “I couldn’t help it. If ya want I can tell you what’s on it, but I think you should read it yourself.”

Miles sniffed. He was starting to get emotional over what was probably nothing, or at least that’s what he told himself. He tried to pull away from the bigger man but didn’t really care that much at that point. He’d already read it without his permission.

He made a mental note to cut his salary later.

With a deep breath, he removed the mysterious letter.

Slightly smudged, it was written in the same calligraphic handwriting that was on the box lid.

“Dear Miles,

I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner. My name is Misty. I heard about what happened to your father, and I would like to be the first one to express my sympathies to you. He was an amazing man, the best I have ever met, and you should think yourself extremely lucky to have been able to meet him.

I want to tell you something dear, something very important. I am your mother, Miles. From what I understand, your father had told you that I died when you were young. I am so very sorry that we had to lie to you, but I’m afraid we had no choice. We are not allowed to stay together. I do love you Miles, and I always will. But the situation is very complicated at the moment.

Bad people are chasing me, so I have to run away- which means I can’t come and see you. Believe me, If I could then I would just snap my fingers and come and take you home to your sisters. That’s right, you have two sisters! A sensible older sister called Mia, and a little cheeky scamp called Maya. I’m so very sorry to say that we had to lie to them in the same way. They both believe their father died, and they don’t know that they have a brilliant brother called Miles.

Please don’t come and find me. I promise that when the bad people stop chasing me, I will come to you. Until then, stay strong. Your father would not have wanted you to be so upset over him.

Don’t forget that I love you Miles. You’re not alone. Love Misty.”

“Sir?” He thinks Gumshoe asked, but his vision was so misted over and his ears were ringing so much that he couldn’t be sure.

Miles barely registered Gumshoe holding him as he began to sob.

This was going to change everything.

[minsyal]

Mutual Feelings Pt. 10, [Revali x Reader]

Summary: Read it yourself, lazy

The sun was unbearable. It had been a minute since you last visited Gerudo and the desert was even hotter than you last remembered. The City was cooler, but when you couldn’t bear to be within the City walls knowing you would have to sneak out at night, it was off limits. There was no way you were going to have the guards stopping you as you left only for Urbosa or one of the others to find out what you were doing. They’d think you were insane. To risk your life in the Yiga and monster-infested desert, especially at night, for a mythical flower would be idiotic.

Kara Kara was as lively as you recalled. With tired travelers lining the oasis, horny boys looking to sneak into Gerudo City, and hustlers insisting you purchase their goods it made for quite the atmosphere. Urbosa and Daruk greeted everyone with open arms as you pulled a small container from your satchel and handed it to Mipha. She cocked her head to the side, eyeing the thick liquid quizzically.

“It’s for your skin. It’ll protect against the sand and heat. Plus, you’ll be able to safely travel in the desert if needed without worry of dehydration.”

She nodded, securing it to her side, before turning her attention to the princess who was laying out the game plan. Zelda spoke quietly, wanting the conversation to remain as inconspicuous as the group could possibly be. There was no way to ensure clan members weren’t around and listening.

“I think we should split into two groups. One led by Urbosa, one by Revali.” Revali agreed with the princess, the suggestion inflating his ego. “Urbosa knows the desert better than anyone and Revali can easily navigate the skies if you get lost.”

“Sounds good t’ me!” Daruk pounded his hand on his chest.

“I’ll be traveling with Urbosa and Link… Mipha, would you mind joining us?” Mipha opportunely agreed to her request. “That leaves Revali with Daruk and [Name].”

“A good choice in pairing.” Urbosa noted, a knowing smirk on her face as she eyed you. “We should leave as soon as possible. The desert gets cold at night. I suggest we meet at the Outpost before sunset to report what we find.”

Traveling with Daruk and Revali proved to be difficult. Daruk could easily work his way through the sand but threw up large clouds in his wake. It was just your luck that you happened to be behind him. No matter the direction you stood, you struggled with the bits of dust and dirt that were attracted to your burning tear ducts. Revali flew from above, remaining suspended in the air just out of the sand’s gritty grasp.

Your shoes weren’t crafted for desert travel. They sunk down with each step and pulled a pound of sand up with them. At some point in the day, you became separated from the two. You could see Daruk’s cloud appear and disappear as he rolled through the desert. He stopped a few times near what looked like shrines. They shifted and waved in the excruciating heat. Revali vanished in the sky too, dipping down every now and again as he likely did what Daruk was doing.

You were perfectly fine being alone at this time. You had a different mission, a different undisclosed mission. Sand had not yet permeated the pages of your journal. By the end of the day, you imagined you would be brushing the thing out. You can only imagine how long you’ll be finding the stuff crushed and stuck down in the page’s crevices.

According to the book Sopho gave you, the flower should bloom in or near an oasis. It should be uplifted from the ground, on a plateau for example. This is to provide it with the best possible protection against those who wish to harvest its power. You squinted, brushing the line of sweat that dripped from your brow as you studied the pages. It was almost impossible to read your handwriting in the blinding daylight.

“Studying on the job, eh?” Revali appeared out of nowhere, taking his wing to block the sunlight from your eyes as you pivoted to see him. He wore his typical smirk. “You should be searching for shrines.”

“It’s hard to when your whole team leaves you in the dust,” you rubbed your eye, “literally.”

“I am surprised Urbosa assigned you to join Daruk and I, considering we’re the fastest travelers of the bunch. And you, well,” he put his other arm on his hip, “you’re a bit slow.”

“My bad Hylian’s don’t have a fast travel system. Some of us can’t fly or roll really fast.” The hand at your eyes continued rubbing.

“Stop doing that.” Revali scolded, moving to hold on your arm. “You’ll scratch your eye.” Still seizing your arm, he rustled through his own bag to pull a small canteen of water. “Look up at me, keep your eyes open.”

Doing as he said, you focused your gaze on him as he worked diligently to remove the cap and grasp lightly under your chin. He steadied your head, eyes flickering from yours elsewhere. When the chilled water poured from the cap, you flinched.

“Hold still, or I’ll leave you with sand in your eyes.” He instructed, grip tightening on your chin. “I imagine the walk back would be difficult when you go blind.” His hold lessened as he washed the dust from your eyes, and finally let go when he was pleased with his work. He stood back, moving to return to his former position of sun-blocker. Blinking the remaining water away, you wiped your face and dried your eyes with the loose fabric of your shirt.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

“Revali?” You started, waiting for an acknowledging hum in response. “What did you want to say a few days ago at the castle?”

His head rose, chin lifting to aim his gaze upward. He took a deep breath as if thinking over the events of that night, before deciding against it and exhaling loudly. “Nothing you need to worry about. Some things go better unsaid.”

“It’s not good to keep secrets.”

“Interesting that you’re the one lecturing me on that. It’s not a secret, just,” he stopped, biting the inside of his mouth, “an observation. Anyway,” he motioned to the vast desert ahead of you. “Shall we?”

Traveling with Revali while he was on foot was strange. He walked slower to match your pace strutting about with his arms behind his back. The majority of his time was spent with closed eyes, not even attempting to locate anything. Maybe he actually enjoyed the heat. Daruk was nowhere to be seen, and likely wouldn’t be rejoining the group. He had told the two of you he may go rogue but be assured he’d find his way back. If not, Revali could find him with ease.

“Why aren’t you searching for shrines?” You asked, folding your book closed before tucking it back into your satchel.

“Why aren’t you?”

“I’m trying, but like I said… it’s kind of hard.”

“You and I both know,” he stopped walking, “we’ve identified all the shrines in this desert.” He continued on toward a rock in the distance. “So why are we all out here today? Simply to waste time? Or mayhaps to appease the princess’s desire for adventure?”

“I’d say the latter.”

“Well, at least we’ll be returning with some information.” He pulled out his own notebook and tossed it in your direction. You scrambled to catch it, becoming annoyed to a chuckle that escaped his lips. “We’ll turn this in and call it a day. The princess can barely comprehend my calligraphy anyway.”

“Is it because it looks like you coated your talons with ink and stomped on the page?” You twisted and turned the pages this way and that, trying to read what on earth he wrote. It looked like chicken scratches. “Is this really the best you can do?”

“No, but it’s the most work I’ll put in on something we’ve already done.”

“Thank Hylia, I’m not receiving letters from you.” You handed it back to him. “I would never figure out what you remotely wanted to say.”

“Like you wouldn’t want letters from me?”

“I’d want legible letters.”

“So, you admit that you would enjoy receiving a letter from me.” He hummed to himself, pleased with his ability to talk circles around you. “I’ll have to drop one in the post when I return to the Village.”

“I don’t,” you defeatedly sighed, “shut up.”

The sun moved slowly through the crystal blue sky, hiding behind clouds every now and again before peeking back out to warm the land. Walking with Revali was becoming unusually relaxing. He spoke every now and again, bringing up the few oases that littered the dry sandy Sahara. You took mental notes of their locations, deciding that the Southern Oasis matched the description of where the flower would bloom. It was only 6 hours until your window of opportunity would open. You wouldn’t miss it.

“I’m calling it a day.” Revali said as he spied Kara Kara in the near distance.

“I don’t feel like we accomplished anything.”

“I could leave you out here if you truly wish to continue this hike.”

The rest of the Champions waited at the Outpost. Gathered outside, they were enjoying a platter of refreshing fruit purchased from a delighted hustler back in Kara Kara. Zelda and Mipha both looked exhausted, lying on their backs next to one another, shielding their eyes from the now-setting sun. Daruk was content, chattering away with Link about how “the food is good, but not nearly as good as what Goron City has.” Urbosa sat quietly, satisfied with the sounds of the palm tree leaves rustling against one another as the nightly breeze set in.

“You two enjoy yourselves?” She asked, the same smug smirk on her lips. “You took quite the walk out there.”

“We gathered what information we could.” Revali handed Zelda his notebook, appeased when she interestedly started ruffling through the pages.  “I, for one, would greatly appreciate turning in for the night.”

“I second that!” Mipha laughed, sitting up and resting her arms on the ground to support her. “The desert is so different from the Domain.”

“Well, it’s made of sand, dear.” Revali noted, bringing a hearty laugh from Daruk who slapped Link on the back, prompting him to politely join in.

Zelda, Urbosa, and Mipha all retired to the safety of the City after a small feast was brought out to the Outpost for everyone. Daruk and Link wanted to sleep outside near the door, resting on the large rock that served as a foundation for the Outpost. Revali opted to claim the tower as his, cozying up at the top. That left you with the one bed inside.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us inside?” Mipha asked, pulling the loose wool blanket closer to her body as she, Zelda, and Urbosa started for Gerudo. “It will be much colder out here. You should join us.” Zelda added.

“I want to go over my notes once more tonight. I’ll be less of a distraction out here. I don’t want my candle-light keeping you awake, especially after today.”

The girls nodded understandingly and left, but not before Urbosa could add her take. “Try not to spend too much time up on the tower, tonight. You’ll catch a cold.”

You pressed your hand to your blazing cheek, your hands cooling the skin to the touch. Why did she always have to make comments like that? She took enjoyment in making you blush.

Quietly, you closed the door to the Outpost, ensuring you hadn’t woken the two sleeping nearby. You watched as your footprints disappeared behind you as the harsh winds filled them with sand. Tugging the strap of the backpack up, you trudged forward. The Southern Oasis wasn’t too far away, maybe an hour’s walk at leisure, thirty minutes at a fast pace.

During the day, no group had reported on any sightings of the Yiga Clan or other dangerous monsters lurking in the desert. Night proved to be no different as you made your way peacefully to the oasis with no threats but the blowing wind and icy winds. It was different, the desert, at night. The moon illuminated each and every shadowy hill that you had to cross. There were no heat-caused waves or illusions of waterholes. There was only sand and sky.

The Oasis was difficult to climb, but you made it up after a few struggling minutes. There were glowing flowers all over the grassy plain. A small trickling stream cut through the middle of the plateau that hot-footed frogs took to with their chirping croaks melding together in the lively area. Crickets hopped from bushes into trees, hiding in the deep green brush.

The plateau was small, small enough to take off the carrying case for the flower and have no worries of losing it. You placed it down at your feet, twisting it into rest supported by the little sand that was up here. Opening it, you began examining each flower. The first had no gold speckling, as did the second, the third, the fourth, and fifth. The sixth was yet another silent princess, and the seventh was no different.

You sighed, having worked up a slight sweat. At this rate, you’d never find it. It had to be here. All signs pointed to this being its location: the oasis, the plateau, hell… even the desert.  After an hour of carefully inspecting the flowers, your eye was caught by the slight gold glitter of something in the corner of your eye. It shone and sparkled like a diamond, the moonlight bounced off its petals, reflecting like a thousand mirrors on the palm leaves. There was something almost ethereal about it. The way it gave off light where there was none was magnificent. That had to be it.

Carefully, you scooped your fingers into the dirt, unbothered as it dug beneath your nails. Carrying it slowly, you lowered it into the case and gathered water from the oasis to pour into the bottom compartment. The walk back would feel longer than that out there. You had no more drive now that the mythical flower was in your possession. You felt like you could finally relax. She would be okay.

Your feet hit the ground below the plateau, indenting in the sand. Each step back seemed longer and longer as you slogged back with a considerably heavier pack attached to your back. When the ground rumbled, you shrugged it off as exhaustion finally getting to you. When it rumbled for the second time, you assumed it to be a small earthquake. They weren’t uncommon in Hyrule. A guttural growl alerted you to it being more than a natural occurrence. The large lump that slunk below the sand, causing you to rise as it swam below, confirmed it wasn’t natural.

There were no monsters lurking in the desert, at least there were no monsters you knew of other than lizalfos and the occasional bokoblin that lost its way. A monster than used sand like water was new to you. You watched as it swam away, only to turn in your direction and charge at full speed.

You ran faster than you ever had before. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as your legs threatened to lock beneath you. Your knees ached from the trek you made at day, and your ankles burned to high hell. It felt as if your shoes had been set on fire. Your arms weighed down on you, quickly turning to ten-pound weights that threatened to topple you over. The Outpost was still a mile away. You could vaguely make out the outline of Daruk peeking out from the front corner.

The strap to the case harboring the flower loosened, prompting you to swing it to the front of your body. You hugged it tightly to your chest.

You continued running.

Your knees locked.

You fell.

The monster approached fast, the sound of sand falling like water was the only thing you could hear.

You closed your eyes.

A horrific, excruciating sound of agony howled through the desert. The sound echoed off the mountain walls in the distance, bouncing around in the canyon. The ground shook once more before all was still. Opening your eyes, you pulled the case closer as if to hide behind it. There stood Revali, breathing heavily as he lowered his bow. His back facing you.

“What on earth were you thinking?” He asked calmly, not daring to look in your direction. His voice slowly rose becoming furious. “Are you brain dead? Sneaking out at night like some foolish teenager. Leaving the safety of the Champions. For what?” You could see the rage in his eyes when he finally found the courage to face you. “If nothing, this proves you aren’t meant to travel among us. This type of recklessness will not be tolerated any longer after your last incident. What is so important it means dying?”

You opened your mouth to speak but was met with him cutting you off.

“No, I don’t want you to speak.” He huffed. “You’re an idiot.” He pursed his lips, eyes tearing away from your fallen figure. “Come on.” He began walking back to the Outpost. “Come on or I’ll leave you here for the next thing to kill.”

Silently, you pushed yourself from the ground, not bothering to brush the dust from your clothes. Revali walked ten steps ahead, turning briefly now and again to make sure you were still following. He was fuming. You were tired. The eventful night only accelerated your exhaustion, making every movement feel like the last.

“I’m going to save you.” You reminded her as she beamed brightly at you.

“I know you will!”

“Oh yeah? How are you so confident?”

“Because you’re a Champion. Champion’s don’t let people down.”

The Outpost was quiet, unbothered by the shaking ground or loud sound that settled over the desert. Slinking inside behind Revali, you held your head low.

“Go to bed.” He instructed, folding his arms over his chest after he threw the blanket back. “Did you not hear me? I said,” he stopped.

Water streamed from your eyes, soaking the hem of your shirt as you focused on the still-glowing flower. Tears fell in big drops, leaving slick trails as they raced down your face. Everything came collapsing in as the mental barrier you had set up months ago fell. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry no matter how difficult things became. The emotions, everything, you felt from the fear to the joy and the sadness that was pooling in your chest finally burst. The dam that contained this calamity of passion was crumbling. It felt good.

“Why are you crying?” Revali said in a hushed, more calming, tone. He crossed the room, taking the case from your quivering hands and placing it gently on the desk. You crashed to the floor, your knees giving out.

“She’s going to be okay.” You got out between sobs.

“She?” He contemplated before it all snapped into place. The puzzle pieces finally matched up. “Keumi.”

“She’s so sick, Revali.” Wiping at your eyes was futile, but you continued to do so. “She’s so sick, and that flower is going to save her. It’s going to cure all her hurt and pain… She can finally just be a kid.”

Without another word, he understood. Hesitantly, he took you in his arms, pulling your shaking figure close as he rested his head atop yours.  At some point, you moved to the twin-sized bed in the corner of the room. You relaxed into his chest, finding solace in the sound of his steady heartbeat.

“Why are you always so hard on yourself?” He wondered to himself, his voice coming out at no louder than the squeak of a mouse. He must have assumed you to be asleep. “I care about you, a lot.” A breath of air passed his lips as his heartbeat rose. “Of all people.” He tsked himself. “It had to be you.”

The two of you fell asleep, a calm peaceful sleep with no jittering kicks or unnerved grunts. It was quiet. It was nice.

“Have you seen [Name]?” Urbosa hollered from outside the Outpost to a groggy Daruk who shook his head and looked to Link who did the same. “Revali isn’t up on the tower, and I just worry that something…” She opened the wooden door to find a predictable scene, at least predictable to her. Rays trickled in from the window shades, the subtle glow giving the room enough light for her to make out the silhouettes of yours and Revali’s figures lying in the bed. The soft snores emitting from your direction made her smile.

“Find them?” Daruk rubbed his eye as Link rolled back over.

“No, but I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

[emberbent]

Book 2: Air | Chapter 1: The Hall of Statues

Shinza landed at the Eastern Air Temple in the late afternoon, and Xia was eager to take off again. It was evident the dragon didn’t like to stay in one place for too long, but before she left, she communicated to Shinza through the heat that came off her scaled body: Safe. Arrived. Love. Exhausted, windswept, and still reeling from the long journey, Shinza placed her hand affectionately on Xia’s forehead, between her eyes. “Yes, thank you. I love you too.” Then, Xia ribboned off, back the way they’d come through the winding mountains like giants’ fingers jutting up from the earth.

The temple itself was breathtaking. Three main areas sat atop three separate mountain peaks, each connected by an elegantly arching sky bridge. The blue-tiled roofs, trimmed in gold, jutted proudly upward toward oblivion; at ground level, the tops of clouds drifted past Shinza’s feet. She craned her neck to take it all in, dizzy from vertigo and the thinness of the air. 

Nearby, a bustling crowd was gathering, and their elated murmurs came: “She’s here!” “Look! The Avatar!” “I’ve never seen a dragon before.” Shinza turned to greet those who had come to receive her, all of whom were women and girls of varying ages. Some wore the traditional robes of the Air Nomads, some the sleek and elegant wingsuits of the new Air Nation. By now, Shinza was getting used to the level of attention she’d been receiving, but the way each person seemed so genuinely pleased to see her was humbling. Having the Avatar in their temple, she realized, was something deeply meaningful. The crowd parted and made way for a wizened old woman - clearly an Elder by the elaborate ochre layers she wore, and by the large, carved wooden necklace that adorned her neck.

“Hello, Avatar,” spoke the Elder. Her dark eyes twinkled as she offered a genial smile to Shinza, who felt a sudden fondness, as if she was reuniting with a long lost friend. She found herself coming forward and wrapping the woman in a familiar embrace. Several members of the congregation gasped, murmuring, Is she allowed to do that?

“Hi,” Shinza gushed, pulling away to hold her at arms’ length. It dawned on her suddenly that she didn’t know this woman. Her cheeks reddened. “I’m so sorry. I just feel… I feel like we know each other?”

The woman chuckled at Shinza’s confusion. She soothed, “We knew each other in a previous life. And now I have the distinct pleasure of having known two Avatars.”

Shinza’s eyes brightened. “You knew Avatar Korra?”

“Yes,” the woman replied. “She was a dear friend to me. Now, I’d like you to try something: close your eyes and think. Try to remember my name.”

She obeyed, searching the darkest recesses of her mind, following the warmth of friendship like a tether. Shinza’s brow furrowed in concentration as she caught tiny glimpses of Korra’s life. “Jinora,” she said, the name foreign at first until she said it again. “You’re Master Jinora!”

“That’s right,” she beamed, the laugh-lines around her eyes deepening. “You have an unusually strong connection to your past lives. Which means you’re highly spiritually attuned. I believe you’ll excel at airbending.” 

A grin spread over Shinza’s face. After having had such a terrible time with firebending, she was willing to let herself believe that she might be good at something.

“It’s so good to have you here,” said Jinora. I want you to know that you’re most sincerely welcome and safe in our temple.”

“Thank you, Sifu. When do we start training?”

Jinora chuckled again. “Oh, child, I’m too old for training. Master Lo Sang will teach you airbending - don’t worry, you’re in very good hands. I’ll evaluate you at final testing, and I’ll be nearby as a spiritual mentor and a friend.”

She invited Shinza to take a walk around the temple to get to know her new home and to get some rest before the next day’s first lesson. Then, she summoned the congregation away with her, leaving Shinza in the open courtyard with a view of nothing but an endless, open gray sky. 

Her room had the same enthralling view of the sky as the courtyard. Small and sparsely appointed, it still held a certain charm that Shinza appreciated. She let her little pack fall off her shoulder and onto the bed. Now that she had a moment of stillness and some room to clear her head, she perched on the edge of the thin mattress and let out an exhausted exhale, suddenly overcome with an onslaught of emotions: gratitude for being among the airbenders; longing for Amrit, whose three rapid punches to her spine had unlocked her fire, and whose kindness and relentless encouragement were a balm for her soul; and something else she couldn’t quite name as she realized that she would have to leave behind Republic City and all of its uncertainty and petty worries. But the thought of letting Nero go just didn’t sit right - not when Shinza hadn’t at least let her know she was okay.

Shinza sprang off the bed, intent, once and for all, on writing to her best friend, who hadn’t heard from her since the day she’d been discovered at the General’s Tea House. She pulled out the desk drawer and located an old-style parchment scroll and a writing kit. Her calligraphy was a little rusty, but it didn’t matter; she got to work making the ink and then sat down and unfurled the scroll.

Nero, she wrote. Hey girl!! Sorry it’s been so long. It turns out I’m a bender after all. Firebending sucks, though. Miss you!

No. Wrong. Shinza cringed and let the parchment curl up and roll off the desk. On a new one, she started over.

Dear Nero, she wrote. I’m sorry I haven’t written until now. Being the Avatar is--

Is what? Shinza couldn’t even begin to pick apart and describe the last year. Unwilling to waste another scroll, she painted a line through the characters and wrote underneath:

I don’t know who I am right now. I’m not Shinza Kwon anymore. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but it’s what I have to do. I love you, friend.

The ink dried. Shinza traced the characters with her fingers. Remorse made her shoulders heavy as she let the scroll curl and tied it closed with a bit of leather cord. She’d send it in the morning.

The inner parts of the temple were like nothing she’d ever seen or could even imagine. The images she’d seen in textbooks did the place no justice. The oldest parts were either original and extremely well-preserved from before the Hundred Year War, or they were faithful and thoughtful replicas. The newer additions, built more recently by the Air Nation, matched seamlessly with the original buildings carved from the mountainside. On the northern side of the main hall, a group of intermediate airbenders ran through a set of forms that produced enough wind to make Shinza brace herself as she walked past. Further up the mountain, connected by a sky bridge, was a stable where the Sky Bison lived. Two or three mothers, astonishing in their size and ability to float in the air despite their apparent mass, fussed over their young, who teethed on a sturdy metal ring bolted to the ground. 

Near the peak of the mountain, Shinza came to a vast hall. Tiptoeing through the massive carved-marble doorway, she was drawn in by an undertow of deep, vibrating energy given off by the multitude of life-size statues within. The statues started in the center of the space and spiraled outward, filling the floor and lining the walls, story after story. She strolled slowly along, taking in the frozen faces of each statue, mouthing the names carved at their feet: Kuruk. Kyoshi. Roku. Aang. Korra. Yeong.

The last statue made Shinza pause. Yeong appeared to be no more than eighteen months old, his pose all chubby limbs and clumsy feet. His bright smile stood out like a beam of sunlight among the stoic faces of the other Avatars. Shinza crouched to study him. She’d known Yeong hadn’t been very old when he’d died, but seeing just how small he was was surreal. 

“Yeong’s mother said she knew he was the Avatar before he was born,” said a voice behind Shinza. She turned to see a young girl, who came to sit cross-legged beside her. “It was a very difficult pregnancy. There’s a rumor that he could earthbend before he even left the womb. If it’s true, he would have been an incredibly powerful Avatar.”

Shinza glanced at the girl, noting the prominent azure arrow tattoos on her forehead and hands. “How did he die?”

“Illness,” she replied matter-of-factly. “He and his mother were in the care of the Earth Kingdom’s top doctors, but they still died.”

“I… that’s… wow.” Shinza grasped for the right words, but couldn’t find them. Instead, she introduced herself. “I’m Shinza, by the way.”

“I know,” the girl chirped blithely. “I’m Lo Sang.”

Simultaneously, Shinza cocked her head in disbelief and grinned with approval. Lo Sang was small and still carried the chubbiness of childhood. If she didn’t know any better than to say so, Shinza might have described her as adorable.

“Are you serious? That’s incredible. How old are you?”

“Ten, if you’re counting from conception, which I am. I’m the youngest airbending master in recorded history.” Lo Sang studied Shinza, her pale gray eyes darting rapidly back and forth. “Why? How old are you?”

Shinza’s cheeks burned. It was bad enough she was so late to the game; now she was being sized up by a child prodigy. “...Twenty-eight.”

“Wow!” Lo Sang larked. “Isn’t it a little late to be just starting your second element? You’re old enough to be my mom.”

“What?! No I’m not!” Shinza spluttered.

“Do the math,” Lo Sang giggled. “You definitely are.”

Without having to count, Shinza knew the little twerp was right. She turned away to look at the statues, feigning annoyance but unable to scrub the amused smirk off her face. Idly, she passed her hand through the space above the empty pedestal next to Yeong’s.

“Your statue will go there someday,” Lo Sang told her. Effortlessly, she summoned a gentle gust of air and lifted herself to her feet. “Our first lesson is at sunrise. You should think about getting some sleep. You know - rest your weary bones.”

“Goodnight, Master Lo Sang,” Shinza intoned. The young one gave her a cheeky smirk before she twirled her fingers, leapt up onto the little spheres of swirling air she’d created, and skated out of the hall.

[mama-m1na]

Apocalypse: Chapter 11

~~~XI~~~

The next two hours were filled with cousins just playing various board games and card games with role play aspects.

The first game they played was Town of Salem in which one or more players acted as witches and tried to kill off the townsfolk without being caught and killed themselves.

Even if he wasn't playing and only vaguely paying attention, Cloud could tell that everyone in the family got very into their games as accusations of witch were thrown around right off the bat.

Some of the things that left the mouths of the family members and the things they called each other could have been a bit concerning, but the blond just brushed it off as some sort of odd family dynamic of theirs.

How could he not just write it off as that when the ravenette received such odd comments only to throw her own witty remarks and laugh about it afterwards with a large smile on her face?

After about a month of residing in this new world, the ex-SOLDIER had begun to differentiate between the different faces the ravenette wore and he was getting used to each one, especially the one he was seeing at the moment.

The girl currently wore such a carefree smile on her face as she just took the time to enjoy the games with her family instead of fussing over the next move as the leader of a post apocalyptic survival group.

It was the same smile he saw when they were in San Diego, watching those animated movies she loved so much; or when he would catch her just hanging out with her proclaimed children of Apocalypse; or even when she was just getting into trouble with her sisters, though the last one was quite rare.

Unfortunately, those smiles were usually fleeting, the male noticed as she would almost immediately return to work within the next five minutes.

Her expressions turning blank as focus shifted entirely to updating databases, researching; or in recent times, trying to locate the main base of Scyphozoa.

According to the passing conversations he'd heard in Apocalypse from those who worked in Arcaeus, the ravenette would spend all three to five hours, depending on the day, of her shift just sitting at her computer without stopping unless she needed to be called down to take care of a pushy customer.

From what Cloud has heard, this kind of behavior wasn't very healthy for the teen since she has been known to have stress induced panic attacks in the past and although she hasn't burned out yet, many knew it would happen if she didn't take a break.

'I guess that's another plus to this,' the blond thought with a sigh as he watched the teen interact with her family, 'She's finally not working.'

It was at that moment the front door opened to reveal a male with tanned skin, a wide nose, and short black hair.

"Zyrus, you finally made it!" Ariel chuckled as the others cleaned up the last game that they had just played, walking over to give the older male a hug.

"Yeah, they had me working overtime and I had to find my fucking laptop," the male sighed, gesturing to his backpack, "Apparently I left it at home and had to drive back and grab it."

"That's rough, buddy," Zach said, patting the male on the shoulder as Rhamina stood up and brought Cloud over to him.

"Zyrus, this is Cloud, the one I was telling you about," she introduced with a bright smile as medium brown irises scanned the swordsman.

"Definitely looks like he ain't from around here," the male chuckled before nodding towards the hallway behind the living room, "Come on, we can talk in the guest room."

Just before the door shut behind them, Zyrus popped his head out at the ravenette and asked, "All the software in the plants is the same, right?"

"Same as it was four years ago," the eighteen-year-old confirmed, earning a nod from her older cousin before he shut the door, "Hasn't changed a bit."

With a sigh, she returned to her seat on the couch as one of the older females pulled a small box out of her purse and handed it to her.

"Here you go, Rhamina," the woman spoke as the teen raised a brow at the box, "I know you really like calligraphy and stuff."

Rhamina's eyes lit up as she opened the box to find an elegantly packaged glass bottle of the most beautiful purple ink she had ever seen.

For years the ravenette was known to be a stationary elitist, only writing with fountain pens or extremely fine point gel pens imported from Japan, so when she saw the gorgeous purple ink with glittering silver flecks, her heart just about imploded.

"Oh my god, Christelle, thank you so much!" she squealed, hugging the glass bottle to her chest as a joyful chirp threatened to leave her throat.

"Now the love letters you write to Cloud can be all pretty and shit," the woman's husband chuckled, causing the teen to choke on her breath as she frowned at her cousin-in-law.

"Um, no, that's not how this works," she spoke in quick succession as she pointed a warning finger at the Irish male.

"Yeah, she's going to walk straight up to him and confess like a man! Right, Rhamina?" Andrew asked as he patted her back.

"Listen, whatever y'all think you're seeing, it ain't there," the ravenette chuckled with an annoyed grin as her eyes swept over her relatives, "Y'all are fucking blind if you think you're seeing something."

"That statement is bullshit," Vince's older brother said before turning to the others, "Alright, who's ready for D&D?"

"Y'all are nerds," the eighteen-year-old scoffed with a playful grin, "You want to have some real fun, go out and fight an actual dragon."

"Rhamina, you of all people, do not get to call us nerds," the male known as Jay scoffed as everyone set up and took out their various dice sets.

"As someone who has fought and killed actual dragons, I beg to differ," the ravenette huffed, leaning into the couch cushions as she took out her phone.

"Wait, when the fuck did you fight a dragon?" Zach asked as everyone turned their attention to the teen on her phone.

"And how the fuck did you fight one before me?" Jay asked in shock, "I'm a fucking bounty hunter and I haven't even fought a dragon yet!"

"And I'm an Apocalypse leader that has access to more resources than you do," the female shot back, "The second time, it was to help a friend's boyfriend so he could harvest it's bones to make her a weapon."

"What about the first time?" Kayla asked, very intrigued by her younger cousin's experiences.

"I, uh," Rhamina started as her eyes widened at the memory and turned back to her phone, "We don't- we don't talk about the first time."

"You can't just bring it up and not tell us about it," Vince said as he played with his character figure, "It couldn't have been that bad."

The ravenette let out a ground and sat up before saying, "You see, we were exploring some caves and I may or may not have gotten separated from my group... I felt something coming up from behind me and thought it was my friend, so I threw my shoe at it."

"You threw your shoe at a dragon, didn't you?" Andrew asked as he covered his face with his hands to hide his groan.

"Yeah, I threw my shoe at a dragon," she replied in a strained voice with an embarrassed smile plastered onto her face.

"Oh my fucking god," Christelle's husband huffed as he looked over at her, "What did you do when you realized?"

"I did what any normal person would do," the teen chuckled nervously, "I stared it dead in the eyes for a good two seconds and went, 'Oh shit'."

"Are you stupid?!" Jay chided as he stood up out of his chair, "You could have died like that!"

"And I almost did!" the teen retorted, her voice wavering in tone and pitch, "but that was two years ago and I've learned my lesson!"

"How come you didn't say anything about this sooner?" Ariel asked as they started shifting their attention back to the game they had yet to start.

"It just never came up," Rhamina shrugged before a small smirk crept onto her face, "Plus, y'all never asked."

About half an hour into Zyrus' and Cloud's conversation, Andrew entered the room without any warning and handed the blond a familiar cell phone with a purple case covering it's matching body.

"Don't give this back to Rhamina until you guys get back to the Abyss," he spoke as an upset looking ravenette appeared in the doorway.

"Cloud, don't listen to-!"

Andrew shut the door on her before continuing, "As soon as we turned her back she immediately opened work documents and started on them again instead of taking some time off."

The twenty-one-year-old looked at the phone and then back up to the male before nodding and slipping the device into his pocket, ignoring the words of the upset female from the other side of the door.

As soon as the door opened again, Rhamina walked straight up to Cloud with an expectant look on her face while her cousin left.

"No," he said, already knowing what she wanted, turning back to Zyrus as the female let out an offended gasp.

"Cloud, you know I need that," the ravenette huffed with a small glare, "If there's an emergency back in the Abyss then I need to be contacted immediately."

"If something happens, then I'll tell you," the male replied, earning a small whine from the teenager before she exited the room.

"She's going to get you for that, you know," Zyrus commented with a chuckle as he opened a new file on his computer.

"She can try, but this is better for her," Cloud sighed, "With the way she's been working, I'm surprised she hasn't dropped yet."

Brown eyes shifted to look over at the ex-SOLDIER before the older male gave him a small smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks for looking out for her," he spoke before standing up, "You have no idea what it's like, not knowing what's happening to her when she's in that line of work, but it's comforting to know someone is there for her."

Cloud only watched as the male left as well, saying that he was going to get some food before continuing on with their conversation.

As he was left alone, the blond just thought back to the conversation he had with Zyrus as he stared at the open computer.

According to him, the whole point of the generators and plants was to gather enough magical energy in order to force open a tear to another world; however, the way it was being done was absolutely horrific.

Living beings, all of which held some amount of magical energy, would be thrown into the generators and drained, killing them in the process.

Fortunately, in his time working in the plants, Zyrus found an alternative, albeit harder, way to open a doorway or create a tear.

Theoretically there should be creatures in the world that had enough individual power to do so, but the issue would be finding a willing one, or even finding one in the first place.

Suddenly, the male was hit with a wave of pain as images flashed through his head once more.

A familiar figure was laying before a large pile of rubble before she slowly sat up, wrapping an arm around herself to try and slow the bleeding from a large gash in her side.

The female wore all black and had two black fans hanging at her hips from special holsters on her belt.

Once the girl was standing up, she let out a huff before tying her straight, black, hair into a low ponytail that ended at the middle of her back.

The sequence ended with the slightly shorter teenager walking off while clutching her side before she brought her phone up to her ear.

Cloud was brought back to reality by the sound of the door opening to reveal Zyrus holding his food and Rhamina who held two plates of food.

"Here," she said handing one of the plates to Cloud before going to sit down on the twin sized bed next to the couch he was sitting on, "It's around dinner time, so eat."

"What are you?" Zyrus chuckled as he took a bite of the pancit that was on his own plate, "His mom?"

The ravenette let out a quick snort, looking down to her food before saying, "Not his, but to other kids in Apocalypse, hell yeah, You have no idea how many of those fuckers didn't have a proper meal schedule."

"I'm guessing you did something about it?" the older relative asked, earning a nod from the female as she took a bite of her own meal.

"Fuck yeah I did!" she replied after swallowing, "If they aren't eating properly, then they could just lose focus or drop during a mission and I refuse to have that shit!"

"I would literally bring everyone food and not leave their side until they ate it," the teen continued, "Doesn't matter if I have to force it down their throats, they will be eating consistently."

"Dam, that's aggressive," the twenty-five-year-old chuckled as everyone ate, the blue eyes of Cloud glued onto the ravenette.

"It may be aggressive, but it stems from my want of my kids to not die," she retorted, "We've had enough people in this world go out for stupid reasons, mine are not going to be added to that list."

Rhamina remained in the room as the other two continued their conversation, pitching in every now and then when it came to the powers of possible beings and monsters.

Soon enough, a few hours had gone by and Zyrus had turned to the teen to ask a question, only to find that she was asleep on the bed she was on.

"Shit," her relative hissed, checking his phone to see that it was around midnight already before looking back at the teen.

"Looks like you guys are staying here for the night then," he sighed as he packed his things up, "She's out cold."

Cloud only nodded as he looked to the female who laid on her side while curled around the pillow she buried her face into.

"I'll let Zach know about this and I hope I was able to help you out a little bit," Zyrus spoke in a quiet tone as he made his way to the door.

"Yeah," the blond replied, "Thanks."

The dark-haired male nodded with a small smile before he left the room, leaving the two alone once more.

With a sigh, the blond walked over to the door and turned off the light, allowing the moon to shine through the windows.

It's silver glow fell right upon the ravenette's form, but because her face was covered it didn't seem to disturb her at all.

Instead, it seemed to give her an ethereal glow as if she were completely douse in magic, even if she was just asleep.

'Maybe it was,' the male couldn't help but think as he thought back to the chimera who seemed to talk to the moon before he laid down on the couch and let his eyes drift shut.

The male was woken up early the next morning by a familiar sounding whimper followed by a thud ad groan.

Snapping his eyes open, the male looked over to see Rhamina on the ground with her pillow as she muttered, "God. Fucking. Hair."

"What did you do now?" the male groaned as he sat up, causing the female to jump before she relaxed with a sigh.

"I tried to get up, but got stuck in my hair," the teen explained as she tried to stretch, only to flinch before placing a hand to her midsection.

"Well I obviously kept this thing on way longer than I was supposed to," she huffed while standing up, tossing the pillow back onto the bed.

"Just take it off," the male replied as he took his buster sword that was leaning against the wall and fastened it onto his back.

"That'll just make more things for me to carry so I'll just take it off when we get back to the Abyss," the ravenette replied as she reached for her dress pocket only to feel that it was empty.

With a sigh, she walked over to the male and held out an expectant hand as the other went to rest on her hip.

"Can I have my phone back now?" she asked upon seeing his confused expression, "I've already missed a full shift of work so I have to make sure everything's good."

The blond nodded and handed back the device, watching as she checked various things on it before she came upon something that made her eyes widen in surprise.

"I've got to make a call, so just go ahead and wait for me in the kitchen, okay?" the teen requested as he walked out the door.

"Alright," the male agreed before the female shot him a smile and closed the door, leaving the male to walk through the silent house and into the kitchen where Anna and Zach were cooking.

"Morning, Cloud," the noiret spoke as he looked up from his frying pan, "How did you guys sleep?"

"It was fine," the blond shrugged as he took a seat at the dining table, careful to put his sword somewhere safe as a small shih tzu came into the room.

"Good morning, Mookie," the strawberry blonde cooed as she let her boyfriend handle the rest of the cooking, instead putting her attention on the dog.

"So where;s Rhamina?" Anna asked as she sat on the nearby couch with Mookie, looking over at Cloud, "Is she still asleep?"

"No, she's just taking a call," the male replied as he looked over to the hallway he came from.

"Oh, I hope it's nothing too bad then," Zach said as he brought some plates over to the table, "Phone calls usually mean something important."

Before anyone else could get a word in, Rhamina walked over and plopped herself in a chair with a loud groan.

"Well I've got my work cut out for me when we get back," she chuckled as she brushed her hair out of her face.

After they had a quick breakfast, the pair gathered their things and started back out to the car when Cloud noticed the box her cousin had given the teen the previous night.

"What is that?" he asked as the teen opened the trunk with one hand.

"Hm?" she hummed, placing her food containers in the trunk before glancing down at her hand, "Oh, it's a really nice purple ink for fountain pens and calligraphy."

"Chirstelle got it for me while she and Chris were in Japan," she continued after getting the blanket to wrap up the blond's sword, "but I don't think I'll use it until I get an equally pretty pen to match it."

The ride back to the Abyss felt much quicker than the drive over to Rancho Cucamonga and this time the teen's playlist didn't shuffle onto any raunchy music; which, surprised her as almost half of her playlist was explicit.

The rest of the day was mostly spent with both individuals just staying in their suites, Rhamina immediately throwing herself back into work and preparing things for the meeting the next day.

After breakfast the next morning Rhamina gave Cloud a quick hug which he returned, causing her roommate to snicker.

"What?" the blond huffed as the ravenette took off down the hall towards one of the elevators, narrowing his eyes at the dark-skinned female, "Don't you have to be at that meeting too?"

"Told you, you'd submit," smirked Tijarah as she jabbed a finger at the male's chest with a hand on her hip.

"Wait till you start initiating it!" she laughed, leaving the male frozen in shock as she stalked off down the hall.

After the weekly reports, Rhamina nodded towards Sam so swiped up on her phone, causing pictures of three individuals to show up on the glass surface of the table.

"So a few days ago, Aunty's group was able to capture these three members of the group known as Scyphozoa and have been trying to interrogate them for information," the brunette started as she stood up from her seat.

"However," she continued with a frown, "they've been stubborn mother fuckers and haven't been giving anything actually useful."

"So what does this have to do with us?" Justin asked, despite already having an idea of what would be said next.

"They requested that Mina come over and get some information since she's good at that," Sam replied as the ravenette leaned forward in her seat.

"I was holding off on giving them an answer until I got the reports from today's meeting so I could determine if it was safe enough for me to go," the eighteen-year-old explained, "but seeing as everyone is being really productive as of late, then I think it's safe for me to say yes."

"Who are you bringing?" Juan-Angel asked with excitement in his eyes.

"Sorry, hun, but I'm just bringing Sam and Chloe," the ravenette spoke with a lopsided smile as the younger male deflated.

"Are you sure Chloe can handle L.A.?" Justin asked, sounding completely offensive, but the ravenette knew there was some genuine concern in there.

"She'll be with Mina and Sam," G-lo spoke, even though he was a bit worried himself, "as long as she doesn't get left alone, then she should be fine."

"Awe, thanks, G-lo," Sam cooed with a stupid grin on her face.

"That, and it's L.A., I need a gunslinger with me in the car since Kerstin doesn't like going down to L.A.," Rhamina said as she turned to her sibling with narrowed eyes, "Chloe's up next on the roster."

"Since this is just an interrogation thing, it should only take three days at most, but I want all of you to keep your guards up the entire time," the ravenette spoke seriously as he eyes swept over each person at the table, "Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Alright then," the teen mused as she leaned back once more, "Meeting dismissed."

As people began filing out of the room, Rhamina powered off the table and sent a text to the younger member of Apocalypse with the information of the mission.

The younger brunette was quick to reply, saying that she would be ready by the time they would leave.

Rhamina gave a soft smile as she walked over to the elevator, knowing that the smaller female was probably excited to adventure in a city outside of the Abyss again.

Despite the fifteen-year-old's small and generally fragile stature, she was a very decent gunslinger with basically infinite possibilities as she had an enchanted bag of holding, a small bag that allows the user to carry up to five hundred pounds worth of equipment.

The small female had decided to fill the entire thing with various firearms of varying sizes and power, always keeping it filled and updated frequently, especially when they got new shipments from San Diego.

Luckily, the bag was designed to give the user the exact item they needed, otherwise Chloe would take upwards of twenty minutes just to find another magazine.

Shaking off the ridiculous thought out of her head, the ravenette entered her suite and went straight into her room before plopping down at her desk.

Putting on some of her favorite music, the teen pulled out a purple journal and took out her current pen before writing out all of her stress.

Ever since she was twelve, the ravenette used writing as a way to escape her problems and was currently one of the main reasons that the whole Scyphozoa situation hasn't caused her to lose her mind, because she was able to create temporary distractions.

Although, stress wasn't the only reason she wrote; many others in the group had said she had a way with a pen so she would occasionally write for them too.

In this way, she had learned that she was amazing at writing letters and messages to others, knowing just how to finesse her words in order to get others to see something from her point of view.

Soon enough, the clock struck five o'clock in the afternoon, so the eighteen-year-old got her things together before leaving for work.

The walk from the Apocalypse building to the red light district was actually pretty peaceful as most of the establishments hadn't hit happy hour yet and the sun was still up.

Rhamina didn't really know when she became so accustomed to the red light district's atmosphere, but the smell of alcohol and bad decisions had just become her everyday.

When the eighteen-year-old arrived at Arcaeus, she unlocked it and slowly her girls had begun to trickle in to get changed and get their makeup done, having the best products so it didn't move during their activities.

"Rhamina, are you sure you don't want a drink?" one of the women asked as she held a glass of red wine in her hand.

"No I'm fine, Suki, y'all just keep doing what you do and enjoy yourselves," the teen chirped before continuing up the stairs to her office.

About an hour into her work, a knock came at the ravenette's door before it opened to reveal one of her girls.

"Is someone causing trouble again?" the eighteen-year-old asked as she looked up from her monitor screen.

"Um, not exactly," the timid looking woman spoke, her voice barely above the volume of a whisper, "Some man has just requested for you."

"And?" the teen questioned with a raised brow, turning to fully face the woman from her computer.

"He says he knows you personally," the woman explained, causing the ravenette to let out a sigh and stand up from her seat.

"Alright, I'll check it out," she said as she walked towards the door, "Thanks for telling me, hun."

A few questions floated around the ravenette's head as she made her way down the stairs and passed all of the rooms in the building.

As soon as she walked out of the hall on the first floor, the eighteen-year-old caught sight of a familiar male and she shook her head.

"Jessie, what the fuck are you doing all the way out here, in the Abyss?"

It was about ten o'clock at night as Cloud walked down one of the streets in the Abyss' infamous red light district.

He had just finished up one last job for the night and was walking back to the Apocalypse building since he thought it would be difficult to bring his bike for this specific job when a familiar building came into view.

The bright neon sign above the entrance of the pagoda had just been turned off and if his memory served correct, then the ravenette should be getting off work so the male decided to wait for her.

After a few minutes, the female came out, but it was with a male he hadn't seen anywhere in the area before.

He had medium length silver hair, pale skin, and wore a baggy black jacket with blue jeans and a black baseball cap.

The twenty-one-year-old could only watch as the ravenette reached up to give the male a tight hug before he walked down the main road, giving the teen a wave before disappearing around a corner.

With a small smile, the teen turned back around to the double doors in order to finally lock up.

As the female's back was turned Cloud walked over to her, knowing that she had noticed his presence by the slight shift in her posture.

"Who was that?" he asked, stopping when he was about an arm's length from the female who perked up a bit upon hearing his voice.

"Oh, hi, Cloud!" she chirped, relaxing slightly as she turned around, "What are you doing over here? I thought you were usually back at the building by now."

"I had a job in the area," he replied with a huff as the teen slipped the keys into her pocket, "now answer the question."

"That was a business friend of mine," Rhamina explained with a smile as they started walking, "He doesn't really like coming over to the Apocalypse building, so on the rare occasion he needs to tell me something in person, he'll just come to see me at Arcaeus."

It was loud and rowdy as they walked down the street, which was normal for this time in any red light district, but they could still hear each other quite well as they each recapped their day.

"That reminds me, can you come with us to L.A. in two days?" the ravenette asked, "It was originally supposed to be just me, Sam, and Chloe, but apparently Aunty heard a few things about you and wants to meet you."

"I guess," the male shrugged as the female caught a glass bottle that was thrown in their direction without even looking.

"That's great! But I do have to warn you that Aunty is a bit... extravagant, to say the least," the female continued as they entered the gates of the group's property, "He's a really nice person though!"

When Cloud arrived next door for breakfast the next morning, he was greeted at the door by Tijarah who was already dressed for work.

"I heard you were going to L.A. with the others," she started as the male walked into the suite to see breakfast already set at the table, "I would suggest getting the armor plating on Danny Boy upgraded then."

"Alright," the male agreed as he took a seat at the table, noticing that the ravenette was not present as they started eating.

"Where's Rhamina?"

"Apparently, a fight broke out on one of the lower floors, so she went to go diffuse it before something got destroyed," the dark-skinned female explained.

Not even five minutes later, the front door opened and slammed back shut, signalling the return of the ravenette.

As the eighteen-year-old sat down, she let out an exasperated sigh and had to physically hold herself back from punching the nearest object.

"Was it that bad?" Tijarah asked with a raised brow.

"I don't get why when two people know they don't like each other, why they think it would be a good idea to approach each other! That just ends up pissing off both sides and- Fuck!" the ravenette ranted before dropping her head onto a free spot on the table.

"Yeah, that's pretty stupid," the younger female commented as Rhamina took a deep breath and sat back up.

"It's fine though, I got them separated and I'm moving David to a different floor," she sighed before taking a bite of her slightly cold food.

"Wait, it was David?" the weapon shop owner asked with wide eyes, "Who was he throwing hands with?"

"Jeremy," the ravenette sighed, "Apparently, he was making moves on David's girlfriend and instead of talking or fighting outside, they decided to fucking brawl it out right in the middle of the fucking hallway."

"And what did you do about it?" Cloud asked, the ravenette's eyes flicking up to meet his as she relaxed slightly.

"I immobilized both of them with ice needles and had them physically separated from each other," the eighteen-year-old replied, "Until they've both calmed down completely, I've left them in the watch of higher ranking, responsible, Apocalypse members."

Breakfast passed quickly after that, with Tijjarah leaving for work and the ravenette still calming down.

"So, what exactly are you doing in L.A.?" the blond asked, helping the teenager bring the dishes into the kitchen.

"I was asked to interrogate the Scyphozoa members they captured," she replied honestly, "Apparently, they're being pretty stubborn and I know how to get answers from anybody."

Usually the male would have made some witty retort; but in this case, he knew better than to even try challenging her.

She had the mental fortitude to deal with multiple mesmers at once and she was able to look through his memories when they first met, so who's to say that she just couldn't do the same thing again?

After leaving the eighteen-year-old to herself, Cloud just started going on jobs like her normally would, earning a lot of money from the residents of both the Abyss and Clean Side.

Once noon rolled around, the blond got his normal reminder from the ravenette to eat lunch and take a break which made the male want to roll his eyes, knowing that she was probably just in her room pouring over Scyphozoa again, but obliged with the request.

As he ate his food at whatever fast food place was closest to where he was when he got the reminder, the twenty-one-year-old noticed that he was pretty close to the mechanic's shop and thought back to Tijarah's suggestion.

Once he finished his meal, he drove over to the familiar shop and parked in the front with a sigh, mentally preparing himself to face the owner once more.

"Well shit, Cloud's back again!" Anton chuckled sarcastically as he leaned forward onto the counter with Kevin next to him, "What can we do for ya?"

"I need the armor plating upgraded," the blond stated as he handed the keys over the counter to Kevin.

"I can definitely do that for you, but if you don't mind me asking, why?" the brunet asked as he typed something into his computer before looking back to the blue-eyed male.

"I have a mission coming up in L.A.," the ex-SOLDIER stated, causing both mechanics to visibly wince.

"You're going to L.A.?" Anton asked as he took the keys from Kevin and made his way around the counter, "Fuck, you better pray the virgin's coming with you if you don't want to get fucked."

"What are you on about now?" the blond huffed as he narrowed his eyes at the slightly taller male.

"You've seen Rhamina's car, right?" Kevin asked as his boss placed a paper label on the set of keys.

"Yeah," Cloud nodded, remembering the plain vehicle, "What about it?"

"It may not look like hot shit, and it physically ain't, but she had it specialized with the purpose of getting to and from places like L.A. safely," the brunet spoke before going out to the bike.

"See there are a lot of smaller gangs in that area that are always fighting for more territory and more often than not, they will try to attack anything that gets too close to theirs," the younger male explained, "if you're anyone other than Rhamina you'll get through with a lot of damage... and that's if you're lucky."

"But," he continued, "she had a special tool created and implanted into her personal car that both defends the vehicle and fucks over the attackers."

"Yeah," Anton scoffed as he walked in, "she worked with the fuckers in San Diego and made it so that once she puts her magic through the car a barrier surrounds it and everything within two feet of the car."

"Anything that hits is immediately deflected at whatever shot it and it doesn't die until she runs out of magic," Kevin added, "And trust me, she will not run out of magic."

"It kind of makes me wonder how much energy they'd get if they tossed her into one of the generators," the brunet commented, causing the blond to narrow his eyes at him and earned him a punch in the arm from Kevin.

"That is going too far, even for you, Anton. Way too far."

~~~Fin. Chapter 11~~~

Masterlist

[jennifersylvesters]

ring ring ( part one )

Pairing: flower shop owner!Chris Evans x coffee shop manager!reader Word Count: ~3.2k A/N: an update after four months?? can you believe?? sorry for the wait on this! hopefully it doesn’t disappoint. thanks to fay for helping me edit this. feedback is always appreciated/loved aka it’d be real swell if you did

There was a certain rhythm in your life that you became used to. Certain sounds were easily recognizable as you became used to hearing them daily.

The gentle chimes indicated someone was either entering or exiting the shop. During busier hours, the chimes clanged violently with people bustling in and out.

The frantic beeping from the small timer reminded whoever was on “drip duty” to make a fresh batch of coffee.

These peculiar yet distinct sounds even helped you perfect shorter times when making drinks.

Three seconds of the hissing sound from the steam wand would shrill throughout the store before moving into a low rumble. You’d pour the milk into the cup before placing any necessary garnishes. Into the sink the used container would go, clunking as it fell. With a quick click of the lid snapping into place, you would call out the customer's name on the completed beverage. Warm water would quickly slosh through the barista cup and once clean, it was set aside, signaling you were finished with one order. And then it was onto the next one.

Sometimes these sounds blended together so effortlessly that you were unaware of how quickly time slipped away in the cafe.

When the morning rush dwindled down, you often took your lunch break. Before heading to the break room you always reminded the crew to tidy up, earning you eye rolls. Of course they would do so. They appreciated their dedicated leader too much than to let you down.

Silence lingered in the break room, often driving you crazy and forcing you to turn on the radio. While you ate, you ran through tasks you needed to complete. You’d scribble down everything swarming in your mind from the supply order that week to the notes you wanted to discuss with the owner. Lucky for you the monthly meeting with the big boss usually went fairly smooth seeing as he had complete faith in you.

When you finally finished creating tasks, your thoughts would roam to more pleasant and lighthearted topics. More often than not you wondered about what surprises your favorite day might bring.

Wednesday rolled around and you were mildly disappointed when Tommy swung open the door instead of Chris. Tommy was one of Chris’s workers who often did deliveries despite rarely delivering to you. That, of course, didn’t stop Tommy from frequenting the shop.

At this point you knew Tommy fairly well. He was a sweet kid with high energy, sometimes bouncing off the walls; the iced mochas you provided him never seemed necessary but who were you to deprive him of caffeine?

You greeted Tommy with a wave as you stepped from behind the counter. The bouquet in his arms was stunning, causing you to bite down on your lip; they were marigolds wrapped in brown wrapping paper with gold ribbon tying them altogether. You saw your name on the note written in gold ink and a small heart doodled at the end.

It made you wonder if your secret admirer had that good of handwriting or if he got someone else to write your name with such elaborate calligraphy. Either way, you couldn’t believe someone would gift you something as marvelous as this.

“Sorry to have your hopes dashed like that” Tom apologized, pulling you out of thoughts.

You turned your head up gazing at him questionably.

“Must’ve been expecting Chris, but you got me instead.”

“Oh, Tommy. That’s not true!” you replied, feeling guilt swell up. “I like when you drop by too! I think you’re great company! Really!”

He just smiled knowingly as he handed you the flowers. You took it into your arms cradling it delicately.

Gently tugging the note intertwined with the flowers, your face lit up seeing the words neatly sprawled on the paper.

Y/N,

Sometimes it's difficult choosing the right flowers. I want them to encapsulate your beauty yet I know that would never be possible. How could they ever compare to you? I hope these marigolds can express how much you light up my day.

-Your Secret Admirer

“These are lovely” you gushed. Tommy nodded his head watching your enamored state.

“He wanted to come, y’know.” Tommy mentioned as you reread the note, words always sweeter than the last. “He’s just, erm, tied up at the moment.”

You glanced up to see the young man fidgeting. He seemed slightly nervous, almost as if he said too much. Looking across the street, you saw Chris and his beau.

Scarlett’s hands were on her waist with a scowl upon her face while Chris’s brows pinched together. He tried taking her hand in his, but she yanked away. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. Despite being unable to hear the conversation, you could tell how she was shouting at him in the empty shop.

“It’s fine,” you managed out before turning away from the scene.

Something about the commotion you witnessed troubled you. Just the sight of Chris looking distressed made you wish there was something - anything - you could do to lift his spirits.

You hesitantly asked Tommy to wait a minute to which he nodded compliantly. As he drummed his fingers on the counter you made two cups of coffee, adding a sprinkle of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon. You slid the cups his way, announcing they were on the house.

“Thanks. He’ll appreciate it.” You ignored his latter comment and the scampish grin he wore walking out the door. He could think whatever he wanted about your feelings for the flower shop owner; it didn’t mean they were true. At least nothing you would ever admit out loud.

Work days had a defined rhythm, something you paced yourself to. Days off played differently with no distinctive beat. They left you with a desire to do something enjoyable outside rather than keeping yourself cooped up. Yet you often struggled to think of leisurely activities, asking friends for advice on what to do.

This week’s day off was no exception. You simply wandered around a recommended outdoor market, picking up a couple of items while conversing with friendly faces. By the time your evening rolled around, you settled on the plan of going to the movies.

Despite an invitation to go out to the bar with friends, tonight you wanted to relax and wind down; it would be a nice moment to simply breathe.

As you entered the multiplex’s lobby, you noticed a couple arguing near the napkin station. To your surprise, you recognized the pair as Scarlett and Chris.This felt like deja vu witnessing her lash out at him as he ran his hand through his hair frustratedly.

“Scarlett, please” he pleaded, taking her hand in his.

“Go watch the movie by yourself” she snapped as she yanked her hand away and stormed out of the theater.

As Chris stood there dejected, it nearly broke your heart. His slumped posture made him look so small and weak despite his tall stature. How someone could treat him so roughly was beyond your understanding.

“Hey, Y/N.” Shoot. You had been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his head turn and spot you nearby. You wanted to scurry off in hope he might believe he mistook you for the wrong person. But after seeing that terrible display, you weren’t sure you could muster that.

“Are you watching ‘Roman Holiday’ as well?” It made you wonder if Scarlett got upset because it wasn’t her first choice of film.

Still, you nodded your head at him, telling him how you planned on finding a good seat in the middle.  

“Aw, c’mon. The middle? Where’s the fun in that?” he teased you. “You should sit with me.”

You knew it wasn’t a good plan. After all, you just watched him get into a fight with his girlfriend. But the way he looked at you - almost pleading for you to join his company - made you eventually agree to sit with him.

Despite the previous fight, he acted as if nothing happened between him and Scarlett. He walked in and scanned the auditorium before gesturing you to follow him. “The second to last row is the best option” he confirmed as he plopped down in the center of said row. You weren’t sure you agreed, but you took a seat to his right.  

While waiting for the movie to begin, he apologized for not showing up on Wednesday to which you easily waved off. He informed you how his dog got sick and that he needed to attend to him. It made you wonder if this was an excuse to cover up the argument or if this was what set off the argument that day in the flower shop.

Still, you didn’t pry. You told yourself it wasn’t your business. If he could respect your privacy, you could extend the same courtesy. Instead, you switched subjects, talking about how earlier you spent time at the outdoor market he recommended you visit. He beamed as you told him how much you enjoyed the vendors there before proudly announcing that most of them were good friends of his.

As the lights dimmed, you realized that there were only four other people in the theater. Apparently no one wanted to pay to see a classic when they could watch it at home. But there was something more enjoyable about seeing it in a theatre with the huge screen; it was a  completely different experience than your apartment’s small television.

Apparently Chris must’ve felt the say way as he leaned over and whispered “The movie theater’s really the only way to experience a classic, isn’t it?” You nodded, glad that someone understood your thoughts.

He asked if you wanted candy, holding out a bag of M&Ms for you to enjoy. You politely declined, stating that you bought Skittles. The two of you began to quietly argue about which candy was best only stopping when you became entranced by the film stars on the screen.

As the movie played, Chris repeatedly offered his popcorn to you. “It’s not like I can finish a whole tub by myself,” he insisted. You found yourself scooping up handfuls of popcorn as the movie progressed, leaning closer to him as he whispered fun facts about the movie.

By the time the credits rolled, you couldn’t believe how quickly the two hours flew by. You could’ve stayed longer if that meant you got to hang with Chris. He let out a low grunt as he stretched his arms up, inadvertently pulling his shirt up and exposing some skin. You turned away feeling shy by this view. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to have your nerves on end. 

“That’s probably one of my favorite movies” he admitted as he stood up. As you both walked back to the lobby, you thanked him for his company. “Honestly, I should be the one thanking you” he replied flashing you a bright smile.

Why was it that he could get you so flustered with just a simple glance? You told yourself that he was off limits, yet your heart couldn’t help but beat faster for him.

He offered to walk you home and despite your initial protests, you were weak to his insistence. You were grateful for the good weather as the two of you walked side by side. Despite having longer legs, he took his time so that you never needed to catch up with his pace.

Normally silence bothered you, begging for something to fill the emptiness. Yet this moment being with Chris - arms gently swinging next to one another and just enjoy one another’s presence - was pleasant in a way that you couldn’t particularly define.

“Am I difficult?” he asked out of the blue. You paused, unsure of what to say. Where had that thought come from?

“No. I don’t think so. You’re really amazing” you assured him.

“Sometimes I feel-” he sighed, pausing as he attempted to construct his thoughts properly. “-It feels like I can’t do things right sometimes. Do y’know what I mean?”

Was this about Scarlett? His shop? Either way, this felt personal. You wondered if it was your place to even say anything. One look at his face and your heart ached at his visible frustration.

“I get it. But you’re not difficult, Chris. Maybe you’re going through something hard that I can’t understand, but I mean it. You’re not a difficult person. You’ve always been very nice to me, and I’m just...I guess I’m thankful for that.” You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks hearing those words slip out. It wasn’t a confession yet it felt oddly revealing.

Looking up at Chris, he seemed to be in higher spirits. With a lopsided grin on his face, he pulled you in for a hug, catching you by surprise. “Thanks” he murmured, holding you in his arms for longer than you expected. When he finally pulled away, all you could do was nod.  

The rest of the walk was filled with Chris discussing his favorite movies with you. You couldn’t help but giggle as he proclaimed how much he loved Disney movies, admitting that he always cried at Mufasa dying. “I weep like a big ol’ baby! Just tears everywhere” he laughed, moving his hands around animatedly.

When you finally reached your apartment, he insisted you two should hang out again. It was a nice thought, something you wished could happen. Yet you knew it wouldn’t.

There was the factor of Scarlett being a part of his life. You highly doubted she would approve of him hanging out with you. In fact you could imagine the sharp glares she’d send your way, making your mornings even more difficult.

Not to mention the tiny detail that the more time you spent around Chris, the more you liked him. He wasn’t your secret admirer, yet his words constantly rung in your head. The minuscule facts that he told you stayed on your mind making you wish you could know him better. But he wasn’t yours to love or even dream about in a romantic way.

“Yeah, maybe” you shrugged, knowing that nothing would escalate. You wouldn’t let it.

“See you around, Y/N” he waved as you entered your complex. Despite repeating that you wouldn’t fall for Chris, you found yourself already looking forward to Wednesday.

Monday rolled around and you found yourself falling back into your normal routine once more. The repeated sounds comforted you as your workday flew by. As one of your workers went on their lunch, you found yourself reorganizing espresso bags until the chimes rang.

Peeking your head out of the stock room, you were surprised to see Anthony coming into the shop by himself. Normally he got coffee with Sebastian, but his upbeat presence was always welcomed.

“Hey, Anthony” you smiled, already grabbing a medium cup to get his usual dark roast. He grinned widely pulling out his wallet.

“You’re not even going to ask what I want?”

“Don’t tell me you plan on switching up on me now” you joked as you poured the coffee three fourths of the way. You ducked down to the fridge grabbing the whole milk and filling the rest of his order.

“Course not. But this sorta feels like you're trying to kick me out. You would kick this pretty face out just like that? ‘Cause that’s cold. I think I'm pretty good company to be done dirty like that.” You rolled your eyes at his joking nature.

“If you say so.” Ringing up his order, you slid the coffee his way as he handed you a couple bills insisting you keep the change. Tossing the change into your tip jar, you started back towards the stock room when you realized he still stood in front.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, curious what had him so serious and perplexed. “Go for it.”

“What are your thoughts on Sebastian?”

You paused trying to think of what to say. It wouldn’t be professional to talk about any of your customers in such an impolite manner, but how could one even explain the feelings you had towards Sebastian?

“I don’t mean to be intrusive” he apologized. “It’s just...Seb isn’t particularly mindful about how he’s perceived.”

“He’s” - you paused, selecting your words carefully - “very thoughtful in his own specific manner.”

This notion seemed to relieve Anthony, who took a deep breath before scratching his eyebrow. “Yes, that’s one way to view him.”

The door chimed and both of you turned spotting Sebastian at the front. Speak of the Devil. He paused, letting the door swing shut behind him. The bartender seemed confused by his friend’s presence, quirking his eyebrow up as he stared at Anthony. His friend just returned the glance with a tight lipped smile.

Despite this strange energy, you warmly welcomed Sebastian into the shop.

He approached the pair of you slowly, hands shoved in his pockets as his eyes flicked from you to his friend. There seemed to be a mental communication between the men as Anthony quickly dismissed himself, thanking you before giving a brief nod towards Sebastian.

“He wasn’t…” Seb started, watching his friend rush out the door. “He didn’t say anything inappropriate, did he?”

You shook your head as Seb seemed to be relieved at your response.

Grabbing a cup, you began working on a latte as Sebastian watched you with a puzzled expression. “Decaf latte with skim milk and two shots, one pack of raw sugar, and a sprinkle of cinnamon, right?” He blinked, taken back by your recital of his usual order. Normally you simply made his drink while he finished the rest of the minor details at the milk and sugar bar. Then again he never spoke much besides his order and a gruff thanks; so perhaps he had good reason to be surprised.

Watching your brisk movements, he blinked a couple times before he nodding his head. “You can always ask us to put the sugar and cinnamon in for you, y’know? We don’t mind.” Seb said nothing, only listening to the sound of the espresso machine whirring as you hummed to the song that bustled throughout the shop.

Placing the coffee in front of him, you held up a hand indicating for him to stop rummaging for his wallet. “Wait one sec. Just...Try it first.” There it was again; the hesitant glance he gave you made you laugh. The more he resisted, the more you wanted this man to trust and understand you. “I wanna know that I did it right,” you reassured him.

His brow creased almost unnerved at how lighthearted you were in this matter. Sebastian took a sip before nodding his head. “Good” he grunted, which caused you to beam. It wasn’t much, but you could deal with baby steps.

“Glad to know that I can do something right” you smiled as you watched him stare down at his drink.

He slid a ten dollar bill your way. As you opened up the register to make change, he was already close to breezing out the door. He paused before leaving, turning and looking at you. “You’re a lot more amazing than you give yourself credit for” he stated, leaving the words to linger in your mind while a pink tinge lingered on your face.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz, @supernatural-girl97, @sophiatomlinson23 | @allynalemons | @achishisha, @bibliophilicwit, @brastrangled, @calwitch, @iwonder-womani, @marvelellie, @mustbeaweasleyginger, @nicholasbich, @sillydecoy, @thinkin-bout-queue, @theonelittleone

bolded means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you

[sumisuchan]

The Lost Children Ch.3

I went to the market the next day. Morganite had prepared a note for me, stating I had her permission to go. She had even sealed it like an envelope meant to be delivered, written in her aristocratic cursive and signed at the bottom, with her card and its credits tucked in the middle.

The stationery she selected was light pink.

“I’ve never had a Pearl before,” Morganite explained. “I hope this is enough. If anyone bothers you, come to my office. Do you know where it is?”

She wore such a look of concern.

“This should suffice, My Lady, but I’ll alert you if there’s any trouble.”

“Alright then,” for the first time, it occurred to me how much shorter she was than I am. Before, she seemed somehow taller, but stood only to the point of my nose.

I took her letter and tucked it away.

“Well, I’ll see you after work today, Pearl.”

“Thank you, Madame. I hope today isn’t too taxing for you.”

“Thank you, Pearl. I hope the same for you.”

How many times would I need to stifle my laughter?

I left shortly after finishing Act Four of the play I was reading.

It was rare that I ever went to the market; it was rare that any gem went. Whenever Blue Diamond sent her Pearl, she always sent her alone, aside from the one day she allowed me to go along in an odd bout of sympathy.

I remember it as a circular chamber, divided into sections of various goods. At the time I went, they carried books, tea, and household items a noble might want. The entire area was full of searching Pearls with short lists in hand.

I was unsurprised to find it wholly unchanged as I waited to enter.

Two Quartz guards stood before the polite queue of Pearls. They towered above us, only admitting one at a time. The reasoning behind it didn’t make much sense to me. I suppose they didn’t want the marketplace swarming all at once, so they allowed only a certain number of Pearls in and waited for a few to leave before admitting more. Standing in line, I looked at the others. Most were some shade of blue, white, or yellow, but even then, there was the occasional green or red. Each of us wore our uniforms to imitate our masters. Soft fabric mimicked shoulder pads, or lengthy skirts to shadow heavy fabric.

I lost myself in admiring the different outfits, but Blue Diamond’s Pearl emerged with an opaque bag and drew my attention. She, too, opened her mouth in surprise.

The guards allowed her through, and in one smooth motion, she pulled something from the band of her skirts, walked at an even pace to me, and stuffed it into my left hand and moved along, as though nothing had happened. No one had noticed, and I felt the smooth texture of paper.

Promptly, I placed it inside the front part of my outfit, flat against my stomach, and stepped forward, presenting my note from Morganite to the guards.

“What a cute note,” the one on the right said.

“Let me see—” the left one giggled, reading it over. “Who is your master? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Lady Morganite of Yellow Diamond’s Court, Ma’am.”

“Lady Morganite?”

“You didn’t write this yourself, did you?”

Before I could answer, both of them began laughing and gave me the note back, allowing me through. I squeezed it a bit too roughly, but moved on to find a bustling market place, much like the one I remembered. Now there seemed to be newer things, different spices, and more options, but I went straight for the tea. That’s what Morganite had sent me for, after all.

The shopkeeper of this section belonged to White Diamond—a Pearl who watched me come in with a little shock, twisting her face and crinkling her nose, which stuck straight up into the air. With a hand on her chest and a gasp, she said, “Oh my…My condolences. Has Blue Diamond sent you today?”

“No,” I answered. “I work for a Lady Morganite now.”

“Well—” It was odd, seeing some of White’s mannerisms grafted onto this Pearl. She was a true miniature, keeping her mistress’s elegance. Had I kept any of my Diamond’s? Did I consciously realize it or was it just programing? She continued. “At least you’re working under a pink gem, though it must be odd to switch courts again.” She must have been older. That was why White allowed her to work here.

I answered, “It is odd. I wonder who they’ll pass me off to next.”

She didn’t laugh. Her face instead displayed a mixture of disapproval and horror, as if it were my fault I had changed owners so many times.

I began to browse the overwhelming number of teas.

“Please let me know if you have any questions, or if your mistress has requested any flavors.”

“She didn’t, actually. Lady Morganite doesn’t seem very picky.” The shelves stood from the floor to the ceiling, without a free space between the boxes and jars. Some wore labels from worlds whose writing I couldn’t read. Would I create poison if I mixed the wrong two together? From the other side of the room, the other Pearl’s eyes burrowed into my flesh, at the nape of my neck, hunting after my secrets. I’m sure she wondered what was wrong with me, having been assigned to a lady who would send me for tea, but wouldn’t specify a flavor.

“Do you recommend any?”

“The cosmic fruit infusions are easily the most popular,” she walked straight to the back wall and held out her arms, indicating three separate shelves. “Enchanting space berry is very good in my opinion, certainly suited for a pink gem, though my personal favorite would be black hole with Earth orange, but it is quite strong.” She removed a jar and took off the cap, then held it beneath my nose.

It was strong, with an influence of citrus.

“We actually cultivate this brand on Homeworld. I’ve even seen the trees from which these fruits grow. How they managed to make such a savage thing taste so wonderful is beyond me, but oh—” She placed the cap back on, slowly, “Perhaps that was insensitive of me. Your Diamond…”

“It wasn’t the fruit trees that did it.” I picked under one of my nails. “I’d like that flavor, and the space berry as well.”

“Certainly. My apologies.” She took both jars. “Your mistress lets you drink tea?”

“She does.” She makes it for me.

“You must be very good, then. I’m one of very few Pearls My Diamond treats to tea, but I’ve served her for so long.” Her gem reflected a deep crème color, an off-white that suggested an older style of procuring Pearls. Its perfect roundness struck me as uncanny, and she stuck her nose in the air again, placing the loose tea into two clear, separate bags. “It’s nice to see another Diamond’s Pearl here, even if…” Her finger paused on one of the numbers of her machine. “You do resemble her.”

“Thank you.”

“That will be fourteen credits.”

I handed her Morganite’s card, which she scanned and quickly returned, along with my bag.

“Let me know what you think of those flavors, if she allows you to taste them.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Another Pearl entered as I left, who the clerk greeted with a simple ‘Hello.’ I didn’t bother looking at the other goods the shops had to offer, despite lingering outside the bookstore for several seconds. They were out of the budget, and Morganite’s permission. Not to mention, the note begged to be read and answered. It burned against my stomach, no doubt collecting sweat along the edges.

I had learned to write by copying.

Armed with every word my Diamond had ever commanded I read, I traced my finger through the dust of Blue Diamond’s library, before wiping it away and destroying the evidence for good. I would write the titles of the books stacked upon the shelves, and try to make the loops and hooks and corners as loose, or tight, or thick, or thin as they were printed.

I can admit that it was an especially useless skill. In that opulent pit of untouched literature, I neither needed to read nor write, but there I was, touching every virginal title with my ill-meaning eyes and copying them in dust I made accomplice to my crimes, before murdering them away and hoping for more to abuse the next day.

Her Pearl caught me once. I had written halfway through A Diamond’s Wish in amateurish but passable calligraphy when I heard her gasp. I turned with my print covered in dust, grey-handed, my face undoubtedly severe.  

Quietly, she said, “I didn’t know you could write. Or read.”

“What are you even doing here?” I smeared my hand into my skirts. “Doesn’t Blue Diamond have you record her messages—”

“She does, but,” the edges of her lips folded into a grin. “Yellow Diamond has come to visit, so she sent me away. I like to come because there’s usually no one else here, except for you.”

For good measure, I wiped my hand off again, this time against my stomach. “Yellow Diamond, huh?”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell her.” She leaned in, a bit closer. “In fact, I’m glad. The house Pearls can barely read at all. I thought I really might have been the only one.”

I asked her about her favorite story, but she didn’t have one. Blue Diamond never asked her to read out loud for her. She did, however, shove a note into my hand a few days later. It even included a blank sheet for me to reply, which I did in small amounts of stolen ink when absolutely no one was watching.

There wasn’t too much shit to talk, but we made do.

She would write me paragraphs about how Blue Diamond would cry (usually about My Diamond, but there were plenty of other topics) and how she would hold in her sighs. One time she told me she was glad her hair hid her eyes so no one could see them rolling.

I laughed out loud at that, which echoed inside the library.

We exchanged notes as often as possible, without drawing suspicion, and destroyed them once we had read and answered.

That day, her note began in typical form. I read it over a pungent cup of black hole orange I had made, sitting at the table in Morganite’s library. She wrote in her neat hand:

‘I worried I wouldn’t be able to write to you ever again. I’m not even sure if you’ll receive this message. I’ve been trying to devise a way to get it to you, but not much comes to mind. I plan on carrying it with me everywhere until I see you again. We have to meet at some point.

‘Blue Diamond is crying as much as ever. I think she misses you, even though she would never admit that. I see her stop in front of the library and sigh before we keep moving. You must have reminded her of Pink Diamond, even though she didn’t have much for you to do. I miss you too. Things seem even slower now that you’ve left.

‘How is life with Morganite? Does she treat you well? Does she allow you to read? I hope you’re happy there.

‘—Pearl’

I took a sip of tea while considering my response. There wasn’t any paper I could use to reply in Morganite’s library, but there was in her office, as well as writing utensils. Still, I remained a moment and read it over again, smoothing my index finger and thumb over the corners of the paper.

I made a point of finishing my tea before I stood, as the kitchen was on the way to the office. Opening the door, I went to drop off my cup, and moved toward those wide double doors I had polished not long before that day. They were styled classically—the kind you had to open manually, and with Pearl’s note folded into my hand, I pushed the right-side open and slipped inside.

Any parchment she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk, and surely, she wouldn’t notice one sheet missing. Or would she? Perhaps my fingers would have the distinct feeling of parchment if they ever met hers again.

I stood in one place too long, and as I took a single step forward, the doors opened in the main room a little before Morganite should have come home. Nearly dropping and the crumpling the note, I stuffed it back into my outfit. My body quickened but I held still.

“Pearl—” My Lady’s voice reverberated outside the office in the wide expanses of the chamber itself. “Pearl, where are you?”

She sounded pained and panicked. If I remained where I was, she would surely look for me, so I came out and found her crinkled on the floor before the entrance, bleeding.

Morganite was on her knees, skirts pulling and trapped beneath her legs when she looked up to me with blood trailing along her cheeks. “Pearl—” her arms shook and seized, which left her to claw at the floorboards as she fell. “Call Jasper—her number—”

Her head began to roll around like a ball moving back and forth, and I went to the phone.

[franklyshipping]

One on one meeting ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

Holy smokes here it is, bimmy boi and darkipoop with some sweet sfw tickles. Except this time Dark knows EXACTLY what he’s doing because he’s been doing a lil bit of research…here we go!!!

A week precisely. Seven days of wondering, of waiting. Until Bim walked into his room to find a folded note in the centre of his bed, his name flowing in shining silver calligraphy; he knew it could only be from one person. He was tentative, unfolding it with fumbling fingers where he found a note in black ink: It read thus;

“Bim,

I cordially invite you to a private meeting in my personal quarters this afternoon at 3pm. I think it is about time we delved deeper into what you enjoy, if you are willing of course. I hope that you are…I think this is something we can both derive pleasure from.

Please reply soon, yours,

Darkiplier.”

Bim was shaking, dear god this was actually happening. This was a thing and the thing was real and the thing was ACTUALLY HAPPENING! There was a phone number transcribed at the bottom, Bim hurriedly sent a text to it. The advantage of texting was that Bim could hide his nerves and excitement which would be impossible if he was having to speak the following words.

“I accept your invitation and look forward to seeing you, yours,

Bim.”

Bim slouched as he sat on his bed, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. 11:14am. He twiddled his thumbs with a heavy sigh, eyes wide with racing thoughts as he began his waiting. The 3 hours and 46 minutes were not spent in a relaxing or calm state of mind, Bim was the epitome of zazzed…for want of a better word. He watched the clock impatiently, trying not to dwell on the endless possibilities that existed in terms of what Dark might do to him; he shivered with the constant reminder of how effective Dark had been the last time. Those thoughts kept him going, and eventually…the time came.

‘Okay…okay you can do this you can do this…’

Bim mumbled, he readjusted his glasses before straightening his posture as he hovered outside Dark’s room. He swallowed heavily and exhaled before knocking twice on the cold grey door, he only had to wait a few seconds before it swung open without a creak or a crack.

‘Ah Bim, I’m so glad you could make it. Do come in.’

Dark’s calm and serene voice caused butterflies to swoop in Bim’s tummy as he crossed the threshhold, shutting the door delicately behind him. He gasped lightly at the interior of Dark’s room, the colouring wasn’t what he’d anticipated. Instead of brooding colours the walls were painted in a faded red, giving the room a pleasant warmth as light and medium greys made up the curtains and bed covers. The bed in question was a four poster, but it wasn’t exceedingly extravgent thus making it pleasant to the eye. At the foot of said bed, Dark was leant with a light smile, which subsequently calmed Bim’s nerves a little.

‘You uhm, you have a really nice room…’

Bim complimented quietly, Dark smiled wider with a light shrug.

‘I know.’

Bim laughed lightly through his nose as the figurative ice was broken, Dark also chuckled gently as he paced over to Bim, standing in front of him with a loose stance. He had been looking forward to this, but he’d wanted to look into the topic first; Dark preferred it when he had an abundance of knowledge of a topic, just for his own satisfaction. Dark had been intensely curious, and that curiosity had only grown as he perused blogs, forums and even a number of video platforms; he was utterly fascinated. As a result he had been thinking about barely anything else. Dark grinned gently, projecting innocence which Bim immediatly bought; Dark had this entire scenario planned, to the last detail.

‘I’ve been doing a bit of research, and I’d very much like to tell you about my findings. May I?’

Dark extended his hand to Bim, much like ballroom dancer would to their partner before a performance. Bim was hesitant and already flustered, but he took Dark’s hand nevertheless. Dark’s lips curled into a wide smirk as Bim fell into the trap. He grasped his hand tightly and yanked him closer before lifting him over his shoulder, despite Bim’s surprise it was achieved quite gracefully. Dark didn’t bother hiding his laughter when Bim yelped and let out a few surprised giggles; the first of many.

‘AHAH! Whahat are you dohoing?!’

Bim queried before squealing as Dark spun him gently, Bim squeezed his eyes shut as he giggled rapidly. Dark replied nochalantly.

‘Well one thing I found out, was that taking your victim by surprise can often heighten their anticipation…’

Bim gasped with a light “oof” as Dark dropped him onto the bed, Bim looked up nervously as Dark crawled over him on his hands and knees with glittering eyes. He paused and cocked his head.

‘Would that be correct?’

Bim gulped at the teasy tone and nodded gently, cheeks already beginning to flush as he leant back on his forearms. Dark was immensely satisfied already, he placed his hands either side of Bim’s head and let his body rest gently on top of Bim’s.

‘Good…very good. Now, where to begin…?’

Bim could only lie patiently with bated breath as Dark’s mind whirred with ideas, until he smirked at Bim and lunged to roughly nuzzle into his neck. Bim squealed loudly at the bristles of Dark’s stubble, he was sure it hadn’t been THIS bad last time…had it?

‘Nahahahahahaha frihihick!’

Dark snickered as he burrowed and rubbed torturously against Bim’s slender neck, scratching at the sensitive skin.

‘Ahh yes your neck…such a vulnerable area. Such a ticklish area.’

Bim shivered and cringed as the words slipped through Dark’s lips, trying to scrunch his neck instinctively.

‘Nahahahahat thehehehehere!’

Bim wailed, he was kicking his feet out lightly as he grasped the bedsheets at his sides. Sparks of electricity were shooting down his spine and round his ears unbearably, and this was only the beginning. Dark grinned, the euphoria he was getting from all this was intoxicating. He hummed before complying and withdrawing gently.

‘As you wish.’

Bim breathed slowly, his face burning as Dark’s amused expression filled his vision. He jumped when Dark reached a hand towards him, only to rest the back of it against his cheek curiously; he laughed lightly.

‘So flustered already…and this is only the start.’

Bim looked away bashfully as Dark moved his hand away, the latter cleared his throat before speaking low and calm.

'Now, I shall need your co-operation for this next part. If you would kindly remove your shirt…’

Dark snickered at Bim’s surprised whimper and hesitation, Bim did nothing for a few seconds. Dark narrowed his eyes and decided that a change of tone was in order.

'Do I need to repeat myself? I told you to take your shirt off…now.’

Bim quivered at Dark’s command, he bit his bottom lip as he unbuttoned the soft flannel he wore. He sat up as he removed it, smiling a little as the fresh air hit his torso; Dark took it from him and tossed it aside, making Bim giggle gently. Bim looked at Dark as his arms folded across his torso subconsciously.

'So…what now?’

Dark was excited at Bim’s clear yet nervous eagerness, and it spurred him to continue on. He gently placed a hand on his chest…before pushing him down harshly and making him gasp sharply. Bim was lying down fully now as Dark took his wrists in his hands.

'Now…you are going to keep these-’

Dark wrenched Bim’s arms above his head, relishing in Bim’s reactions; he was ever so vocal and emotive. Yelps, giggles squeaks and whimpers…they were music to Dark’s ears. He locked eyes with Bim, harsh rocks and gentle pools connecting in the air.

’-up here. Is that understood?’

Bim could feel bubbles fizzing in his chest at Dark’s demeanour, a demeanour which he knew would usually terrify him to the core. But here and now it only made him feel intense joy, despite how embarrassed he was. His eyes were wide and he swallowed gently.

'I-I understand.’

'Good boy…’

Dark ignored Bim’s hitched aghast breath as he sneered and looked over Bim’s form, fully exposed and all his…to do with as he pleased. So he began. Dark let his fingers scribble at Bim’s ribcage causing a plethora of bubbly laughs and squeaks to come from him, but he followed the order; his arms kept still.

'AHAHAHAHAHA SHIHIHIHIHIT!’

Dark let out a faked gasp before digging in harder, Bim’s laughter increased ten-fold as a result.

'Such bad language Bim, I think a punishment is in order!’

Dark’s hands moved down to squeeze Bim’s fleshy sides causing him to buck and cackle rapidly, head thrown back as Dark’s deft movements proved to be his undoing.

'NOHOHOHOHOHO IHIHIHIHI’M SAHAHAHAHAHARRY!!!’

Dark cackled, it was an immesurably evil sound that only really belonged in a fairytale. He narrowed his eyes as he squeezed harshly and rapidly, his fingers working overtime to deliver Bim’s torture. He sneered lightly before cooing in a childish voice, it was said to be an excellent form of verbal teasing.

'Awww, can little Bim not handle all the tickles? Poor baby…’

Bim stammered through his wild laughter, his blush was a furious wine colour from Dark’s teasing. Babytalk such as this had a tendency to make Bim’s insides melt and his speech unintelligible, he hated it but he also couldn’t get enough of it. Dark made a mental note of this particular point as his blunt finger nails spidered relentlessly.

'NOHOHOHOHOHO!!!’

Dark furrowed his eyebrows and seeded his voice with sarcasm as he replied.

'No? That’s not a very clear answer, no what exactly?’

Dark lightened his touch to mere strokes and flutters as Bim spluttered amidst his giggle fit.

'Ihihihi dohohohohon’t knohohohow!’

Dark laughed again as he stroked over Bim’s sides, gradually moving his fingertips over Bim’s belly making him grin and yelp. Dark sighed and allowed his fingers to rest for a moment and for Bim to catch his breath. Dark smirked mischievously as he held his hands up, pretending to inspect them.

'I think these have done a pretty good job so far, don’t you?’

Dark wiggled his fingers in the air tauntingly, Bim grinned and half-hid his face as he nodded gently. Dark hummed satisfactorily.

'But now I think we should move onto something new…’

Bim felt twinges of both excitement and anxiety as his gaze unwittingly lingered on Dark’s hands, Dark frowned minimally at the dejected look. He couldn’t have that. He leant forward with a cheeky grin.

'Oh don’t you worry, they’ll be back to get you soon.’

Bim shuddered and giggled when a few stray fingers tickled under his chin, and with Bim’s smile back in place Dark reached behind him. He searched in his back pocket for something, he held it between his thumb and forefinger and brought it slowly into Bim’s line of sight. Bim’s breath shattered down his throat at the sight of a black, stiff feather. Oh no. Dark sneered as he twirled it about carefully, loving how Bim’s eyes followed it like a hawk.

'It fascinates me how something so small and delicate can be perceived with so much fear…’

Dark brought the tip of the feather down and flicked it over the skin of Bim’s waistline, he found himself enamoured at Bim’s sharp gasp and whimper that he elicited.

'Oh noho…’

Bim hid his face as he squeaked rapidly, the anticipation was wearing away at his resolve…or what was left of it. Dark removed his tool with a glint in his eye as he went back to twirling it, making his voice clear and crisp.

'Don’t try to hide it… we both know how much you want this.’

Bim was speechless, all his senses were focused on the tiny thing that Dark taunted him with. He was enraptured by Dark’s voice and he shivered under Dark’s penetrating gaze as the feather descended to flick at his waistline again, but that was it. Just a flick. Bim wanted more, he nibbled his lip as Dark grinned toothily.

'Why let yourself suffer? Just ask for what you so clearly want…’

The feather flicked again, but this time under Bim’s navel. He squealed and giggled at the brief feeling, he looked up to Dark with a pitiful expression; not that it swayed Dark in any way. Bim gulped and faced the truth of what he would have to do to get what he wanted, he took a deep breath.

'Pleas-AHA!!!’

Dark chuckled as he teased the poor man with another tantalising flick under his navel, Bim collected himself haphazardly.

'P-please tick-AHAFRIHICK!!!’

Dark snickered as he cut Bim off again, his reactions were ceaselessly entertaining; Dark chuckled with an innocent grin when Bim narrowed his eyes at him with a heavy flush, Bim cringed wholeheartedly as he whispered to the room.

'Please…t-tickle me…’

Dark allowed a small silence to ensue, so that Bim’s words had time to sink into both of them; at that point Dark realised that he was proud of Bim. He knew it would have been a difficult thing for him, so he was impressed that Bim managed to overcome his own shame. Shame that he didn’t deserve. Dark leant over him, smiling with bright eyes alight with his pride and his mischief in a shudder inducing concoction. Bim gulped as his voice filled the air.

'Since you asked so nicely…here’s your reward.’

Bim’s reaction bordered on a scream as Dark manipulated the feather beautifully, dragging and scribbling it over Bim’s ticklish tummy with a deft ruthlessness.

'OHOHO MYHYHY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!!!’

Bim shrieked as the feather made its tickly journey, it was so soft and precise that he almost in immediate hysterics. His blazing cheeks were moist with fresh tears of mirth as he squirmed and shook with the force of his laughter. Dark was afire with mischief by this point as he teased.

'Tickle tickle Bim…’

Dark took note of how Bim bucked the closer he got to his waistline, his laughter going up an octave in correlation with the feather’s journey. However, the strongest reactions came forth the closer he got to Bim’s navel; he would jump sharply and became increasingly desperate in his voice, all of which was ceaselessly intruiging to Dark. Especially since his arms had miraculously stayed put, he hadn’t expected that.

'DAHAHAHAHAHARK STAHAHAHAHAP!!!

Dark snickered as he sighed again, he’d underestimated how much he was actually enjoying himself. He found himself feeling a heavy need to tease the man beneath him, the rush it gave Dark was indescribable.

'Stop? First you want it and now you don’t? I can assure you that indecisiveness isn’t the most attractive quality…’

Bim cackled despite himself at Dark’s words, as well as the fact that the feather’s journey had switched courses. It wasn’t trailing and fluttering…it was more like…circling. Bim felt a pang in his chest as he realised Dark’s course of action, he couldn’t stop his words tumbling forth as a result.

'DOHOHOHOHON’T DOHOHOHOHO IHIHIHIHIT!!!’

Dark chuckled, he knew that despite his ravished state it wouldn’t have taken Bim long to realise what he’d have to endure next. He feigned innocent curiosity.

'Don’t do what?’

Dark grinned before dipping the feather in experimentally, he was both shocked and ecstatic at the rough strangled noise that Bim made.

'AH-ACK!’

Bim shook his head rapidly as he peeked from under his arm, repressing a shudder at the predatory gleam that rested in Dark’s eyes.

'Ohhh…do you mean this?’

Bim screamed as Dark wiggled the feather ferociously, the soft fibres reaching every hidden nerve inside his navel. Bim lost it.

'AHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHAHA!!!’

It was unbearably amazing, but there was only so much he could take. He felt his vision blurring and the rest of his body felt numb because of how his number one nerve bundle was being tormented. Bim’s arms came slamming down onto Dark’s, pushing in earnest as his desperation consumed him.

'STAHAHAHAHA I CAHAHAHAHAHA!!!’

Dark smiled as he saw Bim’s needy state and stopped carefully, allowing Bim to grasp his hands tightly. Dark snickered heavily, his cheeky and mischievous frame of mind still fully in place.

'So desperate…and from a simple bit of tickling no less…’

Bim glared at Dark and mumbled absently.

'Shut up asshole….’

Bim immediatly felt that something wasn’t right, a light ringing developed in his ears as the temperature dropped in the air around him, he felt goosebumps appear on his arms. He flicked his eyes to Dark who was staring at him, he seemed fixated as he spoke.

'Excuse me?’

Bim gulped and shivered at Dark’s dulcet tone, rusted orbs flicked over him haphazardly as he inched closer. Bim’s mind was a hurricane of emotion as Dark got ever closer, the pure anticipation of what was to happen next fixed him to the spot. Bim tried shuffling away, but Dark quickly crawled on top of his thighs and bent down towards his torso.

'So you think it’s okay to not only disobey me…but to insult me too?’

Bim’s arms and fists clenched in pure terror as Dark rested his chin on his stomach, eyes wide expectantly as Bim stammered rapidly.

'N-n-no I d-didn’t m-mean-’

'Oh Bim…’

Dark made his tone into a dejected one, whilst internally he was relishing toying with Bim like this. The fear in his innocent eyes was simply delicious. He brushed his lips against Bim’s navel as he muttered.

'I didn’t want to have to do this…but you’ve forced my hand…’

Bim was trembling like a leaf, his breath leaving him in uneven gasps at the feeling of Dark’s stubble and the vibrations of his voice. Dark looked up at him with a feral grin, winking and growling.

'Now face the consequences!’

Without furthur ado, Dark proceeded to blow raspberry after rippling raspberry over Bim’s tummy, sides, waist, navel…anywhere he could reach basically. Bim was caught in the crossfire of how to react, there were snorts and cackles and squeaks and squeals. Fits of giggling preceeding yelps of joy and mirth, and there were even moments of silence where his head was thrown back as tears streamed over cheeks ablaze with…everything. Dark “went to town” as they say. Integrating big raspberries and little raspberries with nibbles and nuzzles over the strips of skin and flesh presented to him.

'AHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SAHAHAHAHAHARRY!!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!!’

Bim tried curling into a ball, which only succeeded in making Dark more determined; said man smirked against his belly as he nipped around Bim’s navel.

'Hmmm…I don’t think you’re very sincere…’

Dark chuckled at Bim’s loud wail as he begged.

IHIHIHI AHAHAHAHAM IHIHIHIHIHIHI SWEHEHEHEHEAR!!!’

Dark hummed with prideful satisfaction, administering a final raspberry to Bim’s belly button before rearing up away from him. Bim was in a tickle fuelled daze with a grin firmly affixed to his lips, he barely registered what was happening around him until a glass of water was put in his line of sight. He was helped to sit up slowly, he took the glass and gulped it down generously. The cold liquid woke him up from his trance and reaffirmed him into reality, he became aware of something resting on his back. A hand. He turned to see Dark, smiling. No malice or ulterior motive…he was just smiling.

'Feeling better?’

Bim nodded as his eyes began to droop, he felt the glass of water leave his hand as he was laid down upon the bed. The sheets were so soft, so warm…and he was so tired. But before Bim let himself fall away to rest, he mumbled a few words.

'Thank you. So…so much…’

With that said he drifted, just as a pair of soft lips touched his forehead and spoke with truth. Not just with truth…but with genuine meaning too.

'Any time.’

im tired as heck, this is so long i think i have a problem 😄 tell meh if u like it an stuuf, kay luv yous xx

[tooriu]

your hands and lips still know their way around

word count: 4.8k status: oneshot summary: 

it must be true about what they say about liquid courage, because kageyama suddenly speaks up. “why didn’t we work out? we were so good together, and then….and then nothing. why—” his voice cracks, and he takes a moment to focus on not breaking down. “why did you have to leave?”

or, the au where kageyama sees his hinata at daichi and sugawara’s wedding and decides that maybe he doesn't want to be hinata’s ex anymore.

ao3

The invitation to the wedding comes in a crème colored envelope edged with gold details, his name and address written across the front of it in calligraphy kanji so fancy that Kageyama barely recognizes it as his own. It’s classical and elegant, printed on a thick sheet of cardstock, and he thinks with an almost imperceptible smile that Sugawara-senpai must’ve been the one to choose it. A smaller sheet of paper falls out with the invite, and Kageyama hesitates for a moment before picking it up. It’s handwritten in black ink in a messy scrawl he hasn’t seen in a long time.

Hope you’ll be able to make it, Kageyama-kun! It’s been awhile since the all crows have gotten together. -Kōshi

Kageyama turns the paper over, hoping to find answers to the questions flitting through his mind at a mile per minute. The one that seems to recur most often, however, is one he already knows. Will Hinata be there? Because of course Daichi and Sugawara invited Shōyō to their wedding. The more rational side of Kageyama tells him that it’ll be an awkward affair filled with his longing glances and Hinata’s attempts to ignore him, that it’ll end like their relationship—with the both of them hurting and in tears.

With a small sigh and a pang in his chest, Kageyama puts the card back inside of the envelope, lays it on his kitchen counter, and leaves for volleyball practice.

“Uh….Hey, Kageyama?” Hinata says, his eyes pointedly looking at the clock above Tobio’s head. Then at the school building’s brick wall. Then at the grass underneath their feet. Really, anywhere except for Kageyama.

He waits for a few seconds for Hinata to start speaking again once it’s obvious that the orange-haired ace of Karasuno has Kageyama’s attention. Then, after the silence stretches longer than necessary, he clicks his tongue. “Tch. Just say it, baka.”

“Do you, uh, wanttogodosomethingtogetheronFriday?” Hinata asks, eyes wide with excitement and his palms sweaty with the anticipation of rejection.

Kageyama blinks. With the way Hinata had mumbled the last part of his question together, the setter hadn’t been able to fully understand what he’d said. But if Hinata had said what Kageyama thought he had….

The red flush on Hinata’s face gradually gets more aggressive with Kageyama’s silence, and he shakes his head. “Actually, you know what? Nevermind. It’s nothing. Forget I—”

While he’s never been particularly lucky in games of chance, Kageyama plays one of the biggest gambles of his life. He smashes their lips together, and he can’t help but think that Hinata smells like oranges and tastes a little bit like the donut he’d had earlier. It’s awkward—their noses keep bumping into each other, their teeth collide more than once—but it’s perfect because it’s Hinata.

“Hell yeah! You owe me a hundred Yen, Ryu. I told you it’d be their second year.”

With a start, they break apart and find Nishinoya and Tanaka standing nearby with matching shit-eating grins. Or rather, a disgruntled Tanaka handing cash over to his best friend while Noya smiles with a sort of giddiness that’s akin to one the libero wears when eating Garigari-Kun.

“Really guys?” Tanaka sighs, though it’s obvious there aren’t any real hard feelings by the way his lips are slightly upturned. “You couldn’t have waited until next year?”

Kageyama’s face burns, but Hinata bounces with joy and says, “Sorry guys, but we have to go. I have a date on Friday!”

Playing on Japan’s national volleyball team was both an exhilarating experience and an exhausting one. With the coach’s grueling training menu and the odd hours, it was demanding, and if Kageyama Tobio didn’t enjoy playing so much, he might’ve quit long ago. However, his love for volleyball didn’t cancel out the fact that he definitely still had bad days and people still pissed him off.

His phone buzzed from inside his pocket, and with a slight frown on his face, Kageyama read the caller ID. Iwaizumi Hajime.

Immediately swiping right, he puts it next to his ear. “Iwaizumi-senpai?”

He could practically see the face Iwaizumi made through the phone, scrunched-up nose and a gathering of wrinkles on his forehead, at the honorific. “Don’t call me that, Tobio-kun. It makes me sound old.”

“I—uh—gomen, Hajime-kun,” he replies, pushing open the door. “What did you need?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other side of the line, and it’s long enough that it makes Kageyama glance at the screen just to be sure that the call hadn’t accidentally cut off. “I just,” Iwaizumi sighs, “wanted to make sure you were alright. The, uh, invitations to Kōshi’s wedding arrived in the mail and, knowing him, they probably sent it to… You know…”

The former ace of Aobajōsai trails off, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’d meant to say. It’s the same name that’s been bouncing off the walls of his mind ever since Kageyama had opened that envelope, been in his head ever since they’d split. (It was odd to think of them as separate entities now that high school was over. They’d always been together even if they weren’t together, and he had very few memories that he liked where they weren’t. It’d always been Karasuno’s freak duo, but now Kageyama is all alone.)

“Hinata,” he fills in for Iwaizumi, “You can say his name. It’s not like it bothers me or anything, Hajime-kun.”

But it does, and the feeling of saying Shōyō’s name out loud again feels like a breath of fresh air after running a marathon or a drink of cold water after practice. It’s salvation in the hell he’s been living, and it’s an oasis in a desert. The bittersweet feeling starts low in his stomach and slowly crawls up his spine and down his arms until he’s tingling with the entire sensation.

“Um, okay.” There’s rustling and the sound of a door opening on Iwaizumi’s side, and a loud voice carries through whatever room he must be in. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Tōru’s home.”

“Hai.”

“You know,” Iwaizumi starts, “he won’t say anything, especially to your face, but Tōru’s been worried about you. We’re worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” It tastes sour, like the prefabricated lie that’s been sitting on the back of his tongue that it is. He owes Hajime more than this, more than half-baked falsehoods, and adds, “I will be fine, at least.”

“Alright. Just, uh, make sure to call if you need anything, Tobio,” he replies, “Keep in touch?”

“Yeah.”

A bright smile on his face, Hinata laughs into the sleeve of Kageyama’s jacket as they walk to school. It was too long, reaching halfway down his thigh and the sleeves drooping over his short arms, making the orange-haired ace look even smaller than usual. Kageyama can’t help the small upturn of his lips when he thinks of a pocket-sized Hinata slotting perfectly inside the palm of his hand.

“You should do that more often,” Hinata says, wide-eyed and serious as he glances at Kageyama’s face from the corner of his eye.

He clicks his tongue, more out of habit than any real exasperation. “What do you mean?”

“Smile,” Hinata replies with a blinding grin, “You look cuter.”

The blush flares on Kageyama’s face, spreading from the tips of his ears and painting his nose and cheeks with an obvious pink. “D—don’t just say things like that, dumbass!”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Kageyama buries his face further into his light blue scarf, shielding more of his face from the biting winds, and walks the two blocks from his apartment to a tiny café squished between two other department stores. It’s heated, thankfully enough, and well-lit. Several tables litter the interior, arranged in a strict, symmetrical pattern around the room. He scans the room and moves toward the blonde figure sitting near the back.

“Konnichiwa, Yacchan,” he mumbles, unwrapping the pale blue material from around his neck. “How’s work?”

Her face immediately lights up, and Yachi shoots him a megawatt smile. “It’s great! Thanks for asking. My boss is a bit intimidating, but Shimizu-kun says that if I was able to handle you and Hinata for three years, it should be pretty easy in comparison.”

She laughs softly, like a gentle breeze in early spring, and for some reason, it makes Kageyama think of pink cherry blossoms. The ends of his lips quirk up, though he tries his best not to grimace at the mention of his ex. He wonders if Yachi knows how badly they’d both screwed each other over in the end, how sharp the bladed words they’d thrown at each other actually wore, and decides that it’d probably only hurt her if he told.

“Any new designs?” he asks, settling into the padded black armchair across from her.

Yachi nods excitedly, her hair falling into her face slightly with the movement. It was longer than when they’d been in high school but still only brushed her shoulders. “There’s this one where the sleeves are cut slightly off so that— Oh! Here, wait. It’d be easier to show you.”

As the blonde reaches into her messenger bag, one of the waitresses walks up to them. “Konnichiwa! Would you like anything?”

Yachi gets a watermelon bubble tea and some French macarons. Kageyama opts for simplicity instead. “Black coffee, one sugar, please.”

Talking to Yachi is easy, like breathing or setting a ball, and while he smiles and mumbles jokes under his breath that make her crack a grin, it does nothing to patch the gaping emptiness pitting his stomach wide open. It’s not the same. Nothing ever is anymore. And Kageyama doesn’t expect it to be. Besides, there’s probably only one person who could make things alright, and that boy has seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth.

“We’ll still be okay, right?” Hinata blurts suddenly. They’re lying on their backs, staring at the white ceiling from their position on Hinata’s bedroom floor, having long given up on completing their homework. Practice had been tough that day, and the weariness was beginning to seep into their bones. “Like, even if we doesn’t work out, we’ll still be friends?”

Kageyama wrinkles his nose. “Why the fuck wouldn’t we work out?”

“I— Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He sighs then sits up, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin atop his knees. “Just in case, you know? Some weird shit could happen then we aren’t together anymore, and—” Hinata pauses, fumbling with the words that threaten to spill from his mouth in a word vomit. “Promise me. Even if we aren’t together-together, we’ll still be there for each other.”

“Tch.” Kageyama grabs Hinata, pulling him down to the floor again and wrapping the smaller boy inside of a warm embrace. “Don’t be such a dumbass. Of course I will.”

“Thanks, Kageyama.”

“Tobio.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Tobio.”

Kageyama has friends—the kind he’ll meet up with at least once a month, if possible, and spontaneously text to check if they’re alright, albeit disguised under some other reason. He has a group chat with his teammates, and whenever he checks it, there’s always some mix of legitimate strategies and the most recent meme. Hell, he even has acquaintances that he’ll wave to if he ever sees them around town. (But he does not have a best friend or a boyfriend. He lost both of those in the same mistake.)

Kageyama is not lonely by any definition of the word, but that doesn’t explain why he looks around his apartment and feels so utterly alone that the weight of it threatens to make him fall to his knees. He’s had a hard day, and just standing here in the dark without turning the lights on, stillness covering the room and silence stifling the noise, is making everything so much worse. It’s suffocating, and it feels a lot like drowning, like the shadows around him are inky black waters that rush into his lungs. Everything—every day, every face, every movement—is the same as the previous, and there’s a tedious monotony that he can’t seem to escape. Like he’s trapped inside his own personal hamster wheel, damned to run the same course over and over and over until he fades away into nothingness. It’s so hard to just breathe, and the tears slip out of his eyes faster than he can roughly wipe them off with his palm.

“Tch,” he mutters to himself lowly, “don’t be such a weakling.”

But that’s all Kageyama has ever been in all areas outside of volleyball—weak.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Hinata says. It’s in a softer voice than Kageyama has ever heard from the ace before, and he’d comment on the obvious pity in the orange-haired boy’s voice if he didn’t feel so goddamn awful. “Feeling sad doesn’t make you weak.”

Kageyama curls further into himself, letting Hinata rub small circles into the small of his back. His voice is like the sun spearing through rain clouds, and Kageyama basks in the warmth of it all. There’s nothing sexual about their position—his head on Hinata’s lap, both of them sprawled across the setter’s bed—but there’s something infinitely more intimate about it. Like he’s baring his soul, everything he is, and asking Hinata to stay despite the barren ugliness of it all.

“I think you’re brave for being able to show this side of you to someone else,” he continues. “Even if it’s only me.”

Kageyama stills. “What are you talking about?”

Hinata snorts, and for some odd reason, warmth floods Kageyama’s chest. There’s something adorable about the face Karasuno’s ace pulls, but there’s self-loathing mixed in his expression too. (That’s the easiest for Kageyama to find. He sees it every time his gaze catches a mirror.) “I’m not much, Tobio.”

“More than me, dumbass,” he replies quickly. He’ll do anything to get rid of the bladed look of introspective hatred in Hinata’s eyes—anything.

When Hinata smiles back at him, it’s small and broken and not entirely healed, but it’s enough for Kageyama. He thinks that his boyfriend is something different, something other than flesh and bone, because there is no way that someone this small could have this much love. There is no way someone human could be this good. Hinata has to be something else, like a lost deity or a shooting star that landed on earth.

(He doesn’t know it yet, but just because something is holy, it does not mean it is whole.)

“Tobio!” Sugawara’s voice is loud in a way that somehow manages to avoid being irritating, waving him over to their table with a bright smile on his face. Daichi is sitting beside his husband-to-be with a look in his eyes that says holy-shit-I’m-so-in-love-with-you. Some part of Kageyama wonders if, had things gone differently, he’d be looking at someone like that. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

He smiles in reply, though it’s small and nowhere near as bright as his senpai’s. It’s easier to smile now, and Kageyama doesn’t look as awkward doing it now as he did when he was in high school. Seasons change, and along with it, so do people. Maybe, sometimes, he thinks bitterly, people change too much.

“Didn’t have practice today,” he says, taking his jacket off and placing it across the back of the chair before sitting down, “Besides, I wouldn’t miss your bachelor’s party, Sugawara-san.”

“It’s just a dinner,” Sugawara says, “Besides, it’s Kōshi.”

It’s hard to break the habit that Kageyama has built up for himself of building walls to avoid getting hurt again. It’s absolutely ridiculous, especially since he’s known Sugawara for nearly ten years, but he still has to make a conscious effort not to do it anyway.

“Oi, Kageyama!” Tanaka hits Kageyama on the back in a friendly display of camaraderie. “Nice to see you.”

He replies with something bland and generic that seems to satisfy Ryūnosuke enough that the baldy turns to excitedly prattle along with Nishinoya, but Kageyama’s eyes scan the filled seats with a bubbling sort of mix between panic and anticipation. But there isn’t any orange to be seen anywhere. (He can’t tell if the fact comforts or depresses him.)

“His plane was delayed,” Sugawara whispers, so softly that no one but the two of them can hear. “He won’t land in Japan until tomorrow, but...he’ll definitely be at the wedding.”

Kageyama blinks. “How…?”

“You had this look,” Sugawara says, a sad and melancholy smile adorning his face, “like you were missing something you haven’t had in a long time.”

There are only three certainties in the universe for Kageyama, the list of it fitting so nicely in his rhetoric that he could practically see it in his mind’s eye. Everything else seems so lackluster and ephemeral in comparison, and he can’t help use the concreteness as a sort of safety blanket.

One — He is a setter. There are very few things that compare to the feeling of the surety of the ball, slipping perfectly into the niche of his palms and launching off his fingertips. While he’ll be in any position in order to play, setter is where he does best.

Two — His personality is abrasive and sometimes outright rude. Oftentimes, he forgets to take others’ strengths and weaknesses into consideration in the attempt to score a point. There was a time when there was no one there to hit his toss.

Three — Hinata will be there. In the end, Hinata is always there.

Kageyama shuffles uncomfortably in his tuxedo, the stifling atmosphere threatening to suffocate him. There are too many people in the shrine, and it’s much too hot with all of the decorations. It’s a nice mix between a traditional Shinto wedding and a more Western one, a compromise between Daichi’s old-fashioned parents and Sugawara’s decidedly more progressive family. Surprisingly, Sugawara had chosen Oikawa as his best man, while Daichi had picked Asahi.

Glancing around, Kageyama realizes that quite a few of the people here are from their high school years. Their Karasuno years. It makes him wonder how strange and different their lives would have been without the sport, how empty.

Every flash of orange makes his chest hurt, his heart clenching in an odd amalgam of desperation and excitement, and he wonders if he’s always been this pathetic. But there’s an empty seat two places to Kageyama’s left, past Tanaka and Nishinoya’s joking laughter, with Shōyō’s name written in fancy calligraphy on a tiny white notecard, and just looking at it opens the deluge of confusion that sits low in Kageyama’s stomach.

“Gomenasai, Daichi-kun, Kōshi-kun. I got stuck in traffic on the way here.”

“That’s alright, Shōyō,” Daichi says, “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

Kageyama is so fucked.

His phone rings from its place on the kitchen counter, surrounded by textbooks and paper. The name Hinata Shōyō flashes across the screen in big white letters, and Kageyama scrambles to pick it up.

“Hello?”

There’s a shifting on the other side of the line. “Oh shit. I forgot to ask if you were busy studying for finals.”

“No, it’s fine,” he replies, rubbing the fatigue out of his eyes with the back of a hand. “Just bored out of my mind doing Japanese history. What’s up?”

“I did it!” Hinata exclaims brightly. Kageyama can hear the grin in Hinata’s tone. “I got my acceptance letter for Tokai U! It came in the mail today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” A heartbeat of silence. “Holy shit. I really did it.”

Kageyama glances to the opened envelope sitting a few feet away, a full-ride scholarship to Tokyo University sitting inside as an invitation to play volleyball for the school. More than 1000 kilometers away from Tokai, sitting all the way in Hokkaido. More than 1000 kilometers away from Hinata.

Something heavy gathers in his throat, and Kageyama tries his best to swallow down that growing feeling of despair as he says, “You worked hard for it. Of course you did.”

“Tob— Er...Kageyama? Is that you?”

He turns around, the sight of orange hair stopping Kageyama’s heart inside of his chest. It’s been five years since they’ve last seen each other, but this is wrong—so wrong. They should have been together here, laughing and holding hands and dodging questions about their own wedding, but instead they’re standing with two feet between them that feel like miles. It could have been a complete stranger for all the nonexistent familiarity between the two of them.

It should have been Tobio, not Kageyama.

“Hey,” he says, lifting a hand in a small, sad excuse of a wave and trying his best to keep his composure.

Hinata smiles. It’s as bright as the sun, and Kageyama’s just the shadow chasing after him. “How have you been?”

The bitter side of him wants to say, You would know if you hadn’t left. But he can’t. Even after all this time, Kageyama can’t bring himself to despise Hinata for the way their relationship had crumbled.

“Good.”

It’s a measly half-truth, but he’s unable to gather up the courage to live in complete honesty. One part of him wants to keep their conversation going in the hopes that even if their relationship hadn’t thrived, maybe Kageyama could get his best friend back. The other part just wants to leave, to run away from his problems like he had before, anything to stop the hurt that pooled in the center of his chest.

“Um...Well, it was good seeing you, Kageyama-kun,” Hinata says, rubbing his arm awkwardly as their momentum sputters out. “I think I saw Yacchan and Kenma-kun over there. I’m gonna go say hi.”

And just like the last time, Kageyama lets him walk away.

When Hinata had first left for Sapporo, they’d called each other every night. Now, they were lucky to get one every two weeks. The work had just steadily piled on, and the strict curriculum and rigorous volleyball practice hadn’t left much time for socializing. The first time they speak outside of the occasional text in over two months is for their break: a planned, weeklong trip for the original members of the original Karasuno team back in Miyagi.

On the last day there, just before they go their separate ways into different cars and planes and trains, Hinata walks up to Kageyama. “Er...Can I talk to you?”

It doesn’t strike him as anything odd, so he says, “Yeah. Sure.”

They walk to a secluded area, Hinata fiddling with his fingers on the entire walk there.

“Listen,” he says, “I think we should, you know…. Take a break.”

“What.”

“Just until the summer,” Hinata continues, his voice soft. As if he were afraid of breaking Kageyama. “We’re too busy at the moment to maintain a relationship. I mean, we’ve barely talked since last April.”

“I guess.”

“Okay.” Hinata nods, something like disappointment shining in his eyes as he leaves but Kageyama doesn’t know why. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Kageyama knows he’ll have one hell of a hangover the following morning, but there’s an open tab on the alcohol and he’s got a lot of problems he wants to forget.

“Isn’t that your third sake bomb, Bakageyama?” Tsukishima walks up to the bar with his hands in his pockets and his expression questioning, but something like worry lines his all-seeing stare. “You know you’re going to regret this tomorrow, right? No matter how crazy good your alcohol tolerance is.”

“Hmm.”

Tsukishima sighs and sits down at the stool beside him, calling the bartender over. “A shot of your best.”

Kageyama doesn’t question it. Not after the tentative camaraderie they’d formed after all-nighters and bitching about professors together in the library. But even after all of that, they still refuse to move further than a last name basis, like they’re subtly trying to deny their friendship. “What are you doing here, Tsukishima-kun?”

“You looked like you were having an absolute blast standing over here and being an antisocial loner, so I thought I’d give it a try,” he replies smoothly. Despite his acerbic tone, he meaning is something like, I know you saw Hinata earlier, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.

“I’m having the time of my life,” Kageyama tells him with equal sarcasm. Thanks for checking up on me.

“Well that’s absolutely great,” he says, picking up the shot glass and sipping at the vodka. “But just to warn you, Hinata’s walking this way.”

“I think he misses you,” Yachi says over a bowl of ramen, chopsticks flailing around as she waves her hand with every word she speaks.

Kageyama picks at the karaage he’d ordered and feigns idiocy. “Who?”

“You know who, Tobio-kun. He still asks about you.” Her tone is soft, gentle, like Kageyama is an easily-scared animal she’s found in the wild.

“He’s the one that left, Yachi. Not me.”

“Oh! Kageyama-kun,” Hinata’s voice is slurred and his walk slightly swaying as he walks toward Kageyama. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You have? Why?”

“Just to catch up,” he says, “What’s going on in your life at the moment?”

“Um, well, we’re training for Nationals.” Dumbass, he thought, Hinata probably was too.

He laughs. “That’s nice.”

The silence that falls on them is awkward and sticky, like a blanket he just can’t seem to quite get rid of. It’s the loudest quiet Kageyama has ever heard. That is, before he decides to break it.

It must be true about what they say about liquid courage, because Kageyama suddenly speaks up. “Why didn’t we work out? We were so good together, and then….and then nothing. Why—” His voice cracks, and he takes a moment to focus on not breaking down. “Why did you have to leave?”

“I—”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Hinata admits.

“You don’t know,” Kageyama repeats dumbly, too shocked at the confession to say much else. He’s had a broken heart for this long, and all Hinata can say to explain it is I don’t know. Bullshit.

“I was stupid, so stupid,” Hinata says, staring into his glass of whiskey, “and I should have done something other than what I did. I should have talked to you about it or asked you or done literally anything other than break up with you, because I regret it more than I’ve ever regretted anything in my entire life. And I am so sorry for that.”

Kageyama takes a shaky breath. He’s had years to think about what he’d say if he ever got this opportunity again, but he still can’t find the right words to say. “I— I’m sorry too. I should have tried harder to get you to stay. Called, at the very least.”

Hinata raises his glass high up towards the stars, the sheen of it glinting against the light of the moon, and smiles ruefully. “Maybe we were both wrong.”

Kageyama isn’t the brightest or most hardworking student, but after the split, no one could say his sudden academic excellency was undeserved. He’d thrown himself into studying, ignoring the mind-numbing torture of sitting in front of textbooks for hours on end, and got straight Bs. And when he was tired of that, he dove headfirst into volleyball, losing himself in jump serves and giving the spiker a perfect toss.

But eventually even that hurt too much. Because sometimes, when his hands touch the ball, his mind sees a flash of orange and all he can think of are the headlines of Karasuno’s Insane Quick across volleyball magazines. Because the court without Hinata is far too colorless and cold, and Kageyama can’t stand it.

It’s a soft groan and harsh sun that wakes Kageyama up, and his hand shoots to block his eyes from the offensive light that makes his headache worse. The only good thing about it is the warmth, he thinks as he pulls the covers back over himself.

“Watch it, asshole. I need some too.”

His eyes widen, and he immediately sits up. Just as he’d suspected, Hinata lay beside him on the bed, eyes closed and mumbling. Holy fuck. Had they...? No, they were both still wearing their clothes. Running a hand through his hair, Kageyama closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting himself live inside this pocket of heaven for just a few more seconds before standing up and making sure he has his phone before he leaves.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

Hinata has a single eye cracked open, fear and hope all muddled together in that single expression, and it shatters Kageyama’s resolve in a single blow.

He sighs and walks back over to the bed, shifting under the covers and pulling Hinata close. “I guess not.”

[ignisaurumprobat19-blog]

Chosen (full story)

Initially published on r/nosleep. 

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

PART 1

How does a religion die ? Most people would say that a religion dies when there are no believers left.

I know that's wrong.

When I first heard about Hadès, I was eight. My teacher gave us homework on greek mythology, and being the nerdy kid I was, I pretty much ran into the library straight after school and started digging up all the books I could find on the subject. There was none in the children's section, so I went into the science and history section. There were several, but one in particular grabbed my eye. " Greek mythology : The Forgotten Gods " It was beautiful. It was a bit too complicated for a 8 year old, though, so in the next few days my mom helped me read it and note down all the information I needed for my homework. I loved it. The myths, the power, the drama (even though I realized later that my mother kept the most violent ones and the sexual ones away from me).

Hades was my favorite. I remember how the book said that little to no shrines were dedicated to him, but that he was always mentionned during funeral ceremonies. I found it sad that people expected him to protect them in death, but ignored him through their whole life.

My mother is a Christian. She taught me to pray every night before bed.

After learning about Hades, I started adding at the end of my nightly prayer "And may Hades help me through my whole life and death ". It wasn't disturbing for me to talk to a different god. I don't think I fully understood the concept of Gods yet. I pictured Jesus and God as real men sitting on clouds somewhere above my house, and Hadès as a real old man sitting on a cloud in Greece, and for me, Greece was as distant as the sky.

That's when the odds started to be in my favor. It wasn't much, mind you : the teacher making us watch my favorite Disney movie, my mother agreeing to letting my best friend and I have a sleepover two week-ends in a row, getting the last one of my favorite pastry, having dogs walk up to me in the street and let me pet them...

You know what children's prayers are like.

I wasn't truly expecting Hades to listen to me and grant me my wishes, I just mentionned him in my prayer because I felt bad about him not getting many prayers, as the book said. In my child mind, I figured that he must feel lonely if no one cared about him.

I kept mentionning him in my prayers until I was about 12. By then, I had a better understanding of religion and it just felt silly to pray to an ancient Greek God. I noticed that things were getting harder for me, but again, I did not think it had anything to do with my prayers.

When I was 14, my mother decided to make me take a calligraphy class with her. She never told me, but I realized later that she saw it as a way to spend time with me. I wasn't a difficult teen (didn't drink, didn't smoke, wasn't rude, and my only shoplifting experience was a lipgloss from the supermarket), but I did spend every minute possible with my friends, and my family resented it.

I was reluctant to go, but against all odds, I fell in love with calligraphy. I was the younger in the class, and for a few months, I was the teacher's pet. Her name was Eleanor, and she always dressed in long, flowing skirts in bright colors. I loved her from day one. We started with just one letter, then the word "Home ", then "Hello ", and then a full (albeit short) sentence : "Happy birthday to you ". By then, I was getting pretty good, and soon enough the teacher allowed me to try and work on a personal project : I could write whatever I wanted, and embellish it to my liking. She gave me different colors of ink, thick paper, and recommended that I stuck to one word to start.

I decided my word would be a name. I had always liked the way "Hades " sounded. It sounded strong, powerful, and, yes, clean, somehow. It had a natural authority, and I felt that if I managed to embellish the H and the S the way I pictured it in my head, it would look great. I worked on it for hours. I started in class, but I took some of the supplies home (with Eleanor's agreement) and worked on it the whole weekend.

Eleanor didn't like it one bit. For a second, she looked almost angry, then she composed herself and asked me why I chose that name. I told her I've always been interested in Greek mythology, and she asked me if I believed in it. That struck me as a strange question, because no one still believes in Greek mythology, right ? So I laughed and said I didn't, of course, but I loved to study it. She then told me, in a cold tone she had never used with me before, that Hades was way too harsh sounding of a name, and that I should have written my own name instead.

I did love it, though. It was black and gold, the ink had runned a little, but it somehow added to its beauty. I hung it out proudly in my room.

I met Hades two weeks later.

When I got to the calligraphy class that week, there was a new student. He was the only male in a sea of middle-aged housewives (plus one awkward teenager), but what made him stand out the most was his outfit. The other women wore mom jeans or flowing dresses, I wore mostly black, ragged jeans with Converse. He, on the other hand, wore a dark red suit, with a black shirt and a crimson tie. And he was beautiful. Black straight hair, tanned skin, and the kindest, warmest, striking blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. He introduced himself as Sean.

He was friendly, charming, and won all the women over in a matter of minutes. All of them, except for Eleanor. Despite the newcomer's obvious talent for calligraphy, she barely talked to him and seemed to avoid him as much as possible. As you can imagine, that started rumours among the students : during our usual coffee after the class, Eleanor and Sean were the center of every conversation. Was he his ex ? Did he leave her for another woman ? Did he leave her for another man ?

I didn't care much for this kind of conversations, but it was pretty funny to see those 40 something women acting like teenagers.

The next week, some of the women decided to ask Sean to join us for coffee after class. He agreed. He ended up sitting next to me, and congratulated me for my Hades art. I thanked him awkwardly, as I wasn't used to sitting next to attractive men in their twenties, and let the conversation go on another subject.

It was only when I got home and saw it hanging on my bedroom wall that I realized that I had finished this piece and took it home before he started coming to the class. I figured someone would have told him about it, but I felt like something was off.

Staring at my Hades piece, I realized how long it has been since I last mentionned him on my prayers. As much I knew how silly this was, I felt a ping of guilt at thinking of Hades, alone on his Greek cloud, with no one caring about him. So that night, at the end of my prayer, I added "And may Hadès help me through my whole life and death. Oh and also, get Aaron to notice me. And an endless supply of chicken nuggets would be great, if you have time to do that for me. Thanks, Hades ". I didn't take it as seriously as I did as a kid, but it couldn't hurt, right ?

When Aaron asked me out the next day, I nearly had a heart attack. I was on cloud nine for the remainder of the school week.

Friday afternoon came around, and it was time for the weekly calligraphy class again. My date with Aaron was scheduled for 7pm, so I wouldn't stay for coffee this time. My mother would probably embarass me by telling all the others about my upcoming first date anyway, so I was happy to skip that, thank you very much. So as soon as Eleanor called the end of the class, I started frantically grabbing my stuff. Being the awkward teen I was, of course, I ended up dropping half the contents of my backpack on the floor. Sean reached down to pick my books from under his chair, and when he handed them to me, he said : "Have fun at your date with Aaron, Cara ! " Mom. For fuck's sake. Did she really have to tell everyone about it ? "Erm, thanks ". "I'll see what I can do about the chicken nuggets.". I was too stunned to react, so I just watched him wink, put on his suit vest, and walk away.

We talked a lot, after that. Both in person and in my mind. I've heard stories from times no human were born, and of all the times humanity needed Gods.

Hades isn't the cold, heartless God we picture in history books. Oh, I'm not saying he's a benevolent, loving Savior either. Gods aren't good or bad in nature. Those are human traits.

They can choose to interact with us, or not. Those people who claim they're talking to God and God is speaking back ? They're not crazy. They've been chosen, like I've been.

When I started mentionning him in my prayers, I was the first human in over 1800 years to call him. Even when greek gods were routinely worshipped, speaking his name out loud was supposed to be unlucky.

Hades gave me only two conditions to maintain our relationship : 1- My firstborn would have to be christened in his name. 2- I could not, under any circumstances, trust Eleanor.

The first one was an easy one, for me. Knowing all I know about Gods, I could not give my child a Christian baptism anyway. My mother will be mad, but she'll get over it.

The second one, though, is intriguing to me. To this day, he has always refused to tell me the reasons why I couldn't trust Eleanor. All he said was "That's family issues. You don't get to know that ". He'd get angry everytime I even mentionned her name.

I dropped off the calligraphy class two months after I met him, and got enrolled into a new one a few miles away. My mother was annoyed at having to drive further, but she did it anyway, so we could spend time together.

Having Hades in my life has been a blessing. My life is a hundred times richer and more interesting thanks to him, and, above all, I am not afraid of death anymore.

But something happened today. Two things, actually.

The first thing is that I found out I was pregnant this morning. My husband and I have been trying for the past six months, and I was getting worried. I'm overjoyed, and of course, the first thing I did was yelling for my husband to come to the bathroom. A minute after, we were both crying happy tears.

I decided that we would go out for lunch, to celebrate. Our workplaces are about a 10 minute walk from each other, so I decided to walk there at about 12.30 and surprise him. When I arrived, however, he was already outside the building, sitting on the bench with his back to me. Next to him was a woman with long, silky auburn hair. As I approached them, I overheard her saying : "At last. That's great news, Mark ! We'll need to start organizing the christening soon. It will take a while to prepare. "

Erm. Who was she and what made her think she had a say in my child's christening ? I know people can be quite bigotted in the area, but still. That's something I always made very clear to Mark : I won't get my child christened at the local church just to please friends and coworkers. I don't care if people talk. (Obviously, I left out the part about christening our child in Hades' name. What he doesn't know cannot hurt him, right?)

I put a smile on my face and said loudly : "Darling ! Hi ! I wanted to surprise you and... " I stopped abruptly as the woman turned around to see me. We both froze in place.

It's been 19 years since I last saw Eleanor. She hasn't aged a day.

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

PART 2

She composed herself really quickly and introduced herself as “Anna”. She said she was Mark's friend from university.  

He never told me about a “Anna”.  

“You look strikingly alike a calligraphy teacher I had when I was a teen” I said with a smile.  

“Oh yes, I get that a lot. Eleanor, right? Apparently I have a doppelganger! I've had people stop me in the street telling me how happy they were to see me again and I'm always standing there like 'Sorry man you got the wrong person'!”. Her tone was warm, but her eyes were cold.  

She quickly excused herself to “let us celebrate”, congratulated me on the baby and walked away, her long, flowing green skirt dancing in the wind.

I felt uncomfortable during lunch with Mark. I couldn't wait to be back to work so I could call Hades.

When I finally did, I locked myself in my office and asked my assistant to withhold any calls I might be getting until further notice.  

“Hades? Hades! I need you!” I thought hard and clear.  

Seconds later, his voice resonated in my head.  

“I know, Cara. I saw it too.You have to leave.”  

His voice was urgent, and he sounded... Scared? That made me even more anxious. Hades was always laid back, so relaxed and confident that he was nearly arrogant at times.  

“Leave? Leave what? Where?!”  

“You have to leave Mark. She hid all this time because she knew I was watching you both, but she's out now. It means business. If you want to save your child, you can't stay.”  

“But I can't leave Mark just because he knows Eleanor! There's something fishy about her, ok, I get that, but he's my husband, this is his child too and -”  

“Cara. Her name isn't Eleanor. Her name is Hera.”

Hera? The Goddess of Marriage and Women? Doesn't sound that threatening now. I mean, Hades is the God of the Underworld, and he's not half as bad as he's depicted, so Hera couldn't be worse.

“Why would Hera want to hurt me or my child? I'm a woman, isn't she supposed to protect me? And as far as I'm concerned I never had an affair with Zeus...”  

“It's not about you, Cara. It's about me. And power”.

That's the thing with talking with Gods.  

They never tell you the whole story. They're secretive by nature, and they'll only reveal what they want you to know, often leaving out important scraps of truth. For example, I know that Persephone doesn't exist anymore, but I never got Hades to tell me how or when she died.

What Hades revealed to me then, was that christening is more than offering the child protection from a God. It creates a bond that cannot be broken. And that's how Gods gain power. Not power as in ability to do godly things (the whole chosing your appearance, changing people into animals or stones, being in two places at the same time, time-travelling, blah blah blah). That is a given for them. Power as in power over other Gods.  

Believers may come and go, and Gods aren't obliged to help everyone who call them, but someone christened in their name? That's different. That's powerful. Your God will hear you, and they'll do anything to keep you alive, because if you die? That's less power for them.

The catch is that your God can also influence you to become the person he/she wants you to be.  

And you won't even realize.

That's why organized religions make such a big deal of baptism. For a God, power means influencing the history of mankind. It means other Gods will fear you, or at least respect you enough to not try to overthrow you.

This link between baptized people and power is also the reason why religious wars are a thing. By making their people kill people from another God, one God can reduce the power of the other, and, in the long term, take the lead.

“So you're telling me that you wanted to control my child? That's why you asked me to christen it in your name?!”  

“No, no!”, he exclaimed. “I don't care about that. I just need the power. She would have been free to do whatever she wanted, I just needed -”  

“She?”

I could hear him smile. “Yes. The child you're carrying. It's a she.”.

I started tearing up. “But why can't Hera pick another child? She must know that I plan to christen my child in your name. What can she do to stop me from doing that? Can she hurt me?”  

He seemed determined when he said “Oh, no. I won't let her. Trust me. And we will christen your baby in my name first, as soon as she's born. We just need to make sure she doesn't christen her in her name afterwards. That's why you need to leave.”  

“What happens if she christens her in her name ? If I had already christened her in yours, it won't work, right? You can't christen a child in two Gods' name?”  

“Oh, Cara. There's so much you don't know.”, he said sadly. “Of course you can. But it means war”.

So that's my situation now.  

If my daughter is christened in both names, she will be in the middle of two forces. Hera will be able to influence her, but Hades said he will do all he can to counteract this. I trust him.  

But for him, it will also mean that the war with Hera will start. And it will only end when one of them is dead.

Hades never had humans christened in his name before. So he was never a threat for anyone, and that's how he managed to roam the Earth for milleniums, free and careless.

But he says things are changing. Old Gods are tired of being forgotten, and Hera wants to be the most powerful. And she's willing to destroy everyone so that she and her children can take the lead.

I can't leave Mark. I can't just flee and hope for Hera to never find me, I can't impose this kind of life on my child. I have to stop Hera from christening my child. I don't know how yet, but I will find out. I won't let her ruin my daughter's life.

Tomorrow, Mark and I are going to our first echography. I have to relax and think of the baby first.

Hades will help me. He always does.

Oh my God.  

When I saw the look of worry on the ob-gyn's face, I felt like my whole world was shattering. No matter how complicated this situation is, I can't lose this baby. I just can't. I've always wanted to be a mother. I love her already.  

“What? What? What's wrong? Is the baby ok? Is it healthy?” I exclaimed.  

The doc furrowed his brow. “She's... She's healthy, from what I can see. But ...”  

“But what?!” I was almost crying at this point. Mark was holding my hand, nearly crushing it.  

“You're 9 months pregnant, Madam.”

They said it was a denial of pregnancy. They said it happened, and that they don't know the exact causes of this phenomenon yet.  

They said I probably conceived when I was still on the pill, which explains the “anniversary” periods I had in the first 3 months, and that the hormonal unbalance caused by going off the pill probably masked the symptoms of pregnancy. And since I believed I wasn't pregnant, my mind “tricked” my body into not looking pregnant. My stomach was still flat.

But I know that's wrong. I wasn't pregnant two months ago. I started feeling all the symptoms of early pregnancy only 3 weeks ago : the nausea, the tiredness...  

I wasn't supposed to give birth until January.

But they said they will induce labor tomorrow.

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

PART 3

We named her Charlotte Ava James.  

Giving birth is a world-shattering experience. The second they put her on me and I looked at her tiny, tiny face, I knew my life would never be the same. I could kill to protect her.  

Sadly, I didn't have much time to appreciate this magical moment, as I heard Hades' voice in my head : “Cara, I need to christen her. I need you to let me take possession of your body. Please.”  

It was such a troubling experience. It felt like being in the back seat of my mind : I was there, I could see and feel everything, but it wasn't me. I watched my thumb draw a straight line from Charlotte's forehead onto her nose, her lips, her chin, while I heard myself muttering words in Greek while having no idea what they meant. And then I was back.  

“Thank you, Cara. She's beautiful. I'm watching you, I'll be here in a heartbeat if you need me, ok?”.  

I just nodded. I was exhausted.

After a few hours of staring at Charlotte in awe, I ended up drifting off in Mark's arms in my hospital bed, Charlotte sleeping in her cot nearby. I knew Hades was looking over us, so I felt safe enough.

How presomptuous of me to assume we could relax.

I awoke to Hades' voice. “Cara, she's coming, we have to leave.”.  

Mark was pushing Hades away, clearly startled to be awoken by a stranger in a dark purple suit: “Who are you? Who let you in?”  

But it was too late for explanations anyway, because Hera appeared.  

Yes, appeared. She didn't walk in, or pretended to be “Anna” anymore. She just materialised in the middle of the hospital room, wearing a white, silky blouse and her usual long, flowing skirt, this time in bright pink.  

Mark's face lit up, then he looked at me anxiously : “Cara, I... It's kind of a long story...”.  

I was already sitting up, despite my C-section hurting me, trying to get Charlotte. Hera's smile spread wider.  

“There she is! Look how precious. Isn't she adorable? Isn't -”  

She didn't finish her sentence, because Hades sent her flying across the room.

The next minutes were a blur. They were both moving too fast for Mark and I to properly see them, so we just clutched to Charlotte and to each other, feeling nothing but panic, until it came to an abrupt end when Hades dropped to the floor like a lifeless doll.

Hera extended a hand to Mark. In a cold, authoritary voice, she said:  

“The baby. Give it to me. Now.”.

Mark's face discomposed. He let go of me and Charlotte and stood between us and Hera.

One flick of Hera's hand. Just one small, quick gesture, that I could have missed if I wasn't watching her as intensely as I was.  

One flick of her wrist, and a fine line appeared on Mark's throat. Blood started flowing down from this line, a crimsom river covering his thin, blue hospital gown.  

I barely had time to scream before Hades materialised next to me, grabbed my shoulder and took me away.

I was still in a bed, but it wasn't an hospital one anymore. This bed was huge, with expensive looking sheets and covers. The whole room was richly decorated. It was daytime when we left, but it was sunset where we arrived.  

I was still holding Charlotte. She wasn't even crying, just slowly moving her legs and arms, her eyes closed.  

Hades was sitting next to me. He wore no sign of the battle that had just happen : no blood, no cut, no bruise, nothing.  

He looked at me intensely and said “You're safe here. For now.”  

We both sat there in silence, until my heartbeat returned to normal, until it all started to feel real.    

Then he held me while I burst into lungs-collapsing sobs.

Mark is looking at me with such sad, begging eyes, my heart breaks again. I stare at the line on his throat, the dried blood all over the front of his body, the pale blue of his skin matching the hospital gown.  

He speaks quietly, calmly.  

“Why did you leave, Cara? Why did you abandon me?”  

“I-I, I couldn't do anything, I swear, Mark, I didn't want to leave! I just wanted to protect Charlotte, I wasn't thinking straight...”  

His smile chills me to the bone.  

“And you've made a great job, didn't you? She's DEAD, CARA, CHARLOTTE IS DEAD!”  

That's when I notice the weight in my arms. I look down. Craddled in my arms is my beautiful, tiny baby.  

She's blue, just like her dad. Her lifeless body is still.  

Then she opens her dead, cold, glazed eyes, and giggles.

“CHARLOTTE!!”  

“SHHH!” Hades slapped my wrist. “She's sleeping. She's fine. Hera's sending you nightmares.”  

And indeed, there she was.  Sleeping peacefully in Hades' arms, her little body rising and falling with each small, victorious, magnificent breath. My daughter. Those two words still felt unreal.

Only after I was reassured did I notice the two other people in the room. One was a teen, maybe Dominican ? Her skin was a light brown color, her hair was black and curly, and she had big, dark brown eyes and freckles around the nose. She was gorgeous.  

And the other was...  

“Olivia?!”

She sighed. “No, well I mean yes, but I'm not really Olivia. But it was her you were friends with as a teen, yes.”.  

“What?”

Another sigh. “I'm Athena. This”, she gestured around her face, “is just the body I'm currently in. Olivia isn't here anymore, I'm afraid. It's a long story.  

Oh. This was getting more and more disturbing.  

The teen girl smiled and said “And I'm Hestia. Hello. We're here to help you. And Hades.”

Have you ever had breakfast with three Greek Gods planning a war?  

That's quite the experience.  

From what I've understood, the only way to destroy a God is to convince or to force the one who gave it life to kill it.  

So that means the only ones who can stop Hera are her parents, who are also Hades' and Hestia's parents and Athena's grand-parents : Cronos and Rhea. Who, from what I deduced from the conversation, aren't really interested in the fights between their offsprings.  

“Wait” I asked, feeling my old fascination for Greek mythology coming back “then it means Gaia and Uranus cannot be killed, right? Or … is Nyx an actual entity like you guys? And in that case, who are Nyx's parents?”  

They stopped talking and looked at me sternly. At last, Athena smiled and said “You ask way too many questions, human. Go back to bed.”

I breastfed Charlotte, marvelling at her tiny hands and looking for traces of Mark on her face.  

Mark... Hades said he wasn't a bad man. He said Hera can be a very persuasive God, so I shouldn't be mad at Mark for falling into her trap.  

Still, there's so much I don't know, and will never know now. Everything happened too fast to give me a chance to have a real conversation with him. I thought I had time, I thought we would talk after the birth, when things calmed down. I was so stupid.

I settled back into the bed, and despite everything, or maybe because of everything, I fell asleep within seconds.

My mother opens the door of our family house.  

“Eleanor! Oh my God, it's been so long! You haven't changed at all, dear, that's crazy ! Oh, it's so lovely to see you. Come in!”  

Hera is standing on the porch, smiling warmly. She reaches down to pet my dog Brown, this old labrador I got when I was 15. My mother always said I should take it home with me now that I'm settled, but I know that she would miss him, so I never did.  

Brown isn't having it. He growls.  

She comes inside, while Mom is already putting the kettle on (she's British, she followed my dad to New Hampshire after they met while he was holidaying in Kent in 1975, and they've been together ever since) and yelling for my dad to come downstairs “Jacob ! Come here! You'll never guess who just came to see us!”  

But Dad is only halfway down the stairs when Hera clunches her fist and Mom falls on her knees, her hands at her throat, desperately trying to catch a breath. He stumbles down the last steps, screaming, but Hera just shoots him a look and he fells on his knees too, apparently breathing but silent, his face a mask of terror.  

Brown  jumps, but he doesn't come down. He explodes in a rain of ashes.

I wake up, screaming, to find Athena cuddling a crying Charlotte. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and tell her “Give me my daughter, she's probably hungry.”  

But she doesn't. Hades and Hestia are sitting on the bed. Hades strokes my cheek and whispers  

“Cara, it's better if she stays with Athena just for a moment, ok?”  

I start getting up. I can take care of my own daughter. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Just those nightmares again. Give me Charlotte, ok? Just give me my daughter!”  

“It wasn't a dream, Cara. Hera wanted you to see what she did to your parents”.

I don't fully realize that my parents are gone.  

I don't know what to do anymore. I have two brothers and a sister, and 6 nephews and nieces. When I think of Hera hurting them too... I can't let that happen.  

I don't know how to keep everyone I love safe.

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

PART 4 (FINAL)

Hello, Redditors. My name is Angela and Cara has been my best friend since high school.  

Cara asked me to update on her story, but I'm not going to write wHat she wants me to. I didn't want to write at all, at first, but after reading what she wrote in her previous posts I realized it could be an opportunity to ask for your help.

Cara is currently committEd to a psychiatric hospital after killing her husband, and she is suspected of murdering her parents and her child, though their bodies haven't been found.

I couldn't believe it at fiRst, but the police said the hospital cameras clearly showed that no one entered or left her room before the nurses found Mark laying in a pool of his own blood. It's still unsure how she escAped, as the power went out rIght after the nurses heard a scream coming from Cara's room and rushed to help. Therefore, there were no video recordingS for about 15 minutes afterwards. The baby was noWhere to be found, either.

I've read her previous posts, and it doesn't sound like Cara. I've known her for more thAn a decade, and she was noT a religious person. I knew she was brought up in a Christian household, but the only times she went to church was when she visited her parents baCk in our hometown. As I moved to California for work a few years ago, we Haven't seen each other much lately but we're stIll pretty close and I know she would have told me about whatever faith she found.

Her posts about Greek Gods don't make aNy sense. I don't know if she was havinG hallucinations when she wrote those posts, or if it was some kind of defence mechanism for her mind not to register what she had just done to her husbaNd, but I know from what the police revealed that Mrk was not killed by some kind of magical superpower. He was killed with the knife Cara was using tO eat her hospital meal, covered in her fingerprints. The line on his throat was nOt 'thin' as she quoted in her post, it was a mess. The autopsy revealed that the killer struggled, which is coNsistent with the hypothesis that the killer was somEone with little strength, like Cara.

I wish I could believe her stories about Greek Gods. I wish I could honestly belIeve that my friend isn't a murderer, but I can't. I don't know what'S happening to Cara, but I do believe she killed Mark. But she isn't a monster, that I can promiSe you. She's the sweetest, kindest person I know and she's been the best friend I've ever had. She's cleArly disturbed. I'm not an expert in mental health, but I'm sure it's not her Fault, I'm sure she's ill and she would never had done that if she wasn't.

Her denial of pregnancy probably revEaled some underlying condition. I'd be shocked, too, if I suddenly found out I was 9 months Pregnant and had to undergo childbirth with virtually no time to get myself ready for it. I'm not trying to find excuses for what she did, I'm just trying to understand.

Two days after disappearing with Charlotte, Cara was found, aLone, in a old abandonned house near Kanab, Utah. She was clean, hEalthy and she had food, even though she was 20 miles awAy from the nearest grocery store and didn't have a car. We don't know how she got there and how she got the food, but one thing that's certain is that Charlotte had been there because there were dirty diapers in the bin. But Charlotte waSn't here anymore.

Cara was brought to the hospital, and hEr sister Maria flew to Utah to be by her side. Maria then managed to get Cara commited in a psychiatric hospital in South Cal. Maria, her husband and kids live here, so sHe could visit Cara everyday and wait for hEr to get better. As soon as she called me, I drove aLl the way from San Francisco to see Cara, but at first the hosPital only allowed visits from family Members. Maria tells me everything she hears from the hospital and the police, so I've been well informEd.  

It's been hard for Maria, seeing her sister going mad, losing her brother in law and having no idea whether her parents and her newborn niece are still alive. Maria is Cara's little sister, and the baby of the family; her older brothers have always been overprotective of her and it feels weird to see her take the wheel that way. Cara's and Maria's brothers are arriving on Thursday, so at least Maria will get some support.

I've been allowed to see Cara for the first time today, and sHe was in an awful state. She kept muttering to herself, picking at her skin and hair, she hAd spasms... Please, do not judge her. I know what she did is terrible, but she's mentally ill. She is not aware of what she did. She keeps saying Hera killed her husband anD her mother. She won't say what happened to her fathEr, though, and she refuses to even Say Charlotte's name. When I visisted her today, she kept telling me “my daughter is safe, don't talk about her, please, my daughter is safe”. And theN she asked me to update this story on Reddit because “people have to know what's coming”, but she won't tEll me what she means.

As you can see, I'm not hEre to warn you against a mythological GoD. I'm here to aSk for help. I don't know where Charlotte is, but I doubt she's safe. Cara isn't herself right now and doesn't know what she's doing, so I'm verY worried about where she left Charlotte and whether she's still alive. I don't know what happened to Cara's parents either. In her last pOst, she talks about her mother being murdered and her father being... I don't know, controlled? Kidnapped? But while no bodies have been foUnd, her parents did disappear the day after Charlotte's birth. CaRa's car was found in front of her parents' house in Flagstaff, empty and unlocked. There was no sign of fight around the car or in the house.

Please, Reddit, if you have any idea as to where Charlotte could be found, it would helP the police so much. I know the community heRe is known for solving mysteries, so tAke it as a challenge or a game if You want, I don't care if you don't takE me seriously, but we need to find ChaRlotte. I truly hope Cara's state is temporary, but if Charlotte is in danger we might not have much time to find and Save her.

[ageeksnerdyworld]

Demonic Studies

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth

Word Count: 2,440

Trigger Warning: Slight Swearing.

Summary: Unbeknownst to Bruce his youngest son was accepted to a summer study abroad program. Damian, overloaded with work, gives his father the cold shoulder and begins to flat out ignore him. Worried and angry Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands. Inspired by @pentapoda‘s drawing of college-age Damian. Click the Read More if you want.

XXXXX

“He’s studying abroad, sir.”

“Don’t lie to me, Alfred,” he threatened through gritted teeth.

The two men stood in the kitchen; on opposite ends of the room. While his butler was busy cooking an omelet he stood at the kitchen window, in full work attire; white shirt, black dress shoes, and a dark navy suit. He glared out into the bright sun of early morning. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, business mogul, Bat of Gotham, was too old to play these games with his youngest.

Not to mention that his youngest was too old to play these games.

“I would never dream of it, sir,” Alfred said as he plated the omelet.

“You can’t lie to me with one of my own, Alfred,” Bruce continued as he picked up his plate and walked to the table. “I used that exact line on that Carrie Kelly girl years ago.”

“I can assure you I’m not lying to you, sir. Master Damian was accepted to your… Well I can’t necessarily call the Ivy League school your alma mater since you never finished… And well you only went to it’s Gotham City campus and not the actual one.”

“Spit it out, Alfred” Bruce said with a twinge of annoyance.

“Master Damian has been accepted to Yale’s midsummer program at Oxford. I believe he said it was the BADA program. He has been attending for possibly a couple of days, now.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped in surprise and so did the bit of omelet inside his mouth.

“Maybe even a week’s time.”

“Call him.”

Alfred is startled by the request and starts to object to the idea. He tries to say that the boy is most likely in class. Then the aging butler proposes that the long distance call might not work. But his employer won’t hear any of it.

“Call him, Alfred. Now.”

He sighs and takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Phone call or video chat, sir?”

“Video chat.”

XXXXX

Damian loved Oxford. And London. And the entire United Kingdom. There was something about it that he adored but couldn’t quite put his finger on.

But mostly he loved his classes.

Acting appealed to him for many reasons. But the main reason was that he was never himself on stage. Whether he was playing Iago or Puck or Sir John Falstaff one thing was certain. He was never a Robin or a Wayne or an Al-Ghul there and never needed to be. He was nothing even remotely close to who he really was and he loved every second of it.

As he walked from his dorm to Magdalen College, not at all bothered by the crisp night air, his phone vibrated in his pants pocket.

A video chat from Pennyworth?

When he saw the caller ID cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Not because the elderly butler was calling him but because he was calling him at this time of night. The lateness of the hour meant it was rather early back home. Which could only mean that the decision for this impromptu video chat wasn’t made by Pennyworth.

Unless, Pennyworth was just feeling sentimental. Damian thought as he clicked the phone’s green answer button.

“Pennyworth.”

The old butler smiled at him from the phone’s screen. “Master Damian how are you this evening?”

Damian smiled back; “I am well, Pennyworth. Currently on my way to an evening class.”

“That’s wonder…”

The phone quickly moves and Alfred’s face is no longer in view. Worried that the butler might be in danger Damian yells into the receiver; threatening whomever might be bringing harm to the man. But when a face fills the screen Damian’s worry changes to fear in a heartbeat.

“!خدى”

“Son, don’t use that kind of language. I raised you better than that.“

His father wore an expression of angry calm and despite seeing it on many occasions it still sent a chill down the young man’s spine. It was all in the eyes; the anger. The rest of his father’s face remained entirely poised and unwrinkled. But his dark blue eyes were filled with fury and a mix of disappointment. It was an expression his father usually saved for the scum that ran the streets of Gotham. But that didn’t stop the Bat from using it on his children.

“I apologize, Father. You startled me. It won’t happen again; I promise.”

Bruce nods and the cold anger deflates from his face just a bit. In its place is a stern calmness. “Now… When were you planning on telling me you were accepted to the summer program?”

“After I finished.” Damian replies coldly.

“Father, I apologize for being rude but, I must get to class. I cannot be late as my professor is almost as strict as Grandfather and will surely have my head. But I will call you later. Goodbye.”

Damian ends the call before Bruce can respond and returns his phone to the front pocket of his jeans. He stands on the sidewalk for a bit staring at the night sky. Not a single star was shining yet and so the sky looked like calligraphy ink; an endless void of pure black. Despite everything the call made him miss his father, Pennyworth, and Gotham City itself. He sighs forlornly but straightens his backpack and continues his walk to class.

XXXX

They landed at the London airport around midday a couple of days after Bruce spoke to Damian. Despite their multiple refusals he insisted that the two of them fly out and check on the boy. He even gave them an entire speech to convince them to go. And now they were exiting one of the many Wayne Enterprises private jets.

“B usually saves those lines for the big boss battles, you know?” Jason said as he stretched trying to remove the tension in his body from the lengthy plane ride.

Jason wore his usual attire; dark blue jeans, a black shirt, brown leather jacket and black combat boots. Dick strode up beside him and handed over a black duffle. They both brought their uniforms just in case anything happened while they attended to this family matter. Dick wore gray lace-less slip-on sneakers, black skinny jeans, a plaid navy shirt and a black double-breasted peacoat.

“You look like you popped right out of a Nordstorm ad, Dickie-Boy.”

“Very funny.”

Even though they did not fly through any airline they still needed to walk through the busy London airport. Besides it would hard to travel in any normal way being two people who were legally dead. The only difference was that one of them actually did die. They walked through the airport in silence talking only when they walked down a somewhat busy London sidewalk a block or two away from the airport.

“So, I know B is crazy worried about Damian, but, he’s probably fine. I mean the kid’s what? Eighteen? Twenty? Twenty-three? Point is…”

“He’s not a kid, anymore. I know, Jay, I know.”

Dick shook his head and sighed. In the short silence that followed he took out his phone and sent a confirmation text to their father. He would much rather rely the information to Alfred but Bruce was treating Damian’s cold shoulder like an ice blast from Freeze. Dick sighed again and hoped that short text didn’t come off as rude. But then again there wasn’t much more to say.

Just landed. On our way.

Bruce texted back immediately: Inform me of any changes in directive.

Dick shook his head at how easily Bruce could switch to mission mode. Sometimes it seemed as if there was no end to Batman and no start to Bruce Wayne; that the two sides of his double life had swirled together over the years. That or the night-life serving as Gotham City’s protector turned Bruce’s hard edges into something even harder.

Or he could just be helicopter-parenting to the extreme, he thought with a slight chuckle.

Jason was busy trying to hail a taxi but was having no such luck. Rain drops began to fall in a very slight drizzle which annoyed the both of them. London, being famously rainy, tended to have long and hard rainstorms. And that was something they needed to avoid if they wanted to get this done quickly. Finally, a black cab pulled to the curb and stopped. Jason angrily climbed in and Dick followed suit. They told the driver where they going and the middle-aged man nodded before he eased back into traffic.

“We need to do this for Bruce.” Dick said as they settled into the rear seats of the taxi.

“I just don’t understand why it has to be us.”

“Because we promised, Jay”

“Only after he threatened us,” Jason replied with a slight smirk.

XXXX

Damian sat in his dorm; alone. Using his wealth and status as a Wayne he convinced the admissions office to let him have a dorm to himself. He sat the cheaply made wooden desk writing an essay on how Shakespeare’s plays appealed to all audiences of the time through his use of higher language as well as crude humor.

He was also ignoring the fact that he needed sleep.

His eyes closed and his head drooped as he began to unconsciously nod off. But then a series of loud knocks on his door jolted him awake. Rising from his seat he marked the passage of Othello he was using for his essay with a yellow flag sticky note. As he crossed the room he grumbled threats in his native tongue under his breath aimed at whoever stood behind his door.

“ساقتل بحذف عاكاتك ناماها”

"سخيف الكلب انا سوف يقتاك ”

“ابن لا تصلح للتنفس”

But to his surprise the two people standing in his doorway were the last two people he’d been expecting. Upon seeing the two figures in his doorway his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide and then in the moment his face scrunched in anger. He grit his teeth angrily but allowed the two men to enter his dorm room.

“Grayson. Todd.”

“Hey, buddy,” Dick said with a smile as he looked around the room. “Nice place you get here.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed. “Cut the pleasantries, Grayson. I know Father sent the two of you to spy on me.”

Dick had sat down on Damian’s small, almost military cot-like, bed while Jason rifled through the young man’s miniature fridge. Then Dick rose and crossed to Damian’s desk and looked over his essay. Jason grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and a pack of trail mix. Meanwhile Damian stood near the doorway leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“Don’t you have any real food, Short Stop?” Jason asked he sat Indian-style on the middle of the floor and began to eat.

“You cannot make fun of my height any longer, Todd. We’re the exact same height. Tell me why Father has you two spying on me. Now!” Damian said through grit teeth.

Dick spun around in the chair and crossed his arms over the back. “Bruce is worried about you. He sent us because you’ve been ignoring him, kiddo. Hey, wait, are you wearing a Nightwing shirt?”

Damian’s tan cheeks turned a dark red in embarrassment and he looked away. He had completely forgotten that he was wearing the shirt. He had even forgotten that he had bought it until he put it on that morning before his 6AM stage fighting class. That early morning class was also the reason he wore clothing he would normally never wear in public; sweatpants and sandals.

“What of it, Grayson?”

“Nothing,” Dick replied with a proud smile.

“Why don’t you sit here by me, Shorty?” Jason said giving Damian a worried look.

“Oh. Sorry. Force of habit. But you look like you’re one foot in the grave. Sit down.”

Damian scoffed but sat. “You don’t understand what college is like, Todd. You never went.”

“One of the advantages of being dead, I guess,” Jason said with a slight chuckle. “I haven’t written an essay in years and besides I don’t think any of us needs to go to college. Especially you.”

“You are a disgrace, Todd,” Damian said through a mouthful of trail mix.

The three of them soon fell into conversation about their other lives. Much to their surprise Damian was dying to know about everything that was going on in Gotham. And he really meant everything from what was going on with the family to what the GCPD was doing to the adventures of Arkham’s current inmates. As Jason told a story of how he and The Outlaws took down Killer Croc one time Damian snuggled closer to him, but, Jason took no notice.

“Jason...” Dick whispered.

“What? I was in the middle of the best part.”

“Look,” he said as he pointed to the spot next to Jason.

Jason turned to see that the young adult had fallen asleep against him. His face contorted in a mix of anger and surprise. “Seriously, Dami?”

“Wait a minute, Jay. Don’t move.”

Dick walked over and bent down on the other side of the sleeping youngster. He pulled his phone out and when Jason started to object Dick shushed him. Reaching out Dick snapped a photo of the three of them. Looking at the photo he chuckled to himself. The only time that the young man had ever looked peaceful and calm was when he was sound asleep. Then he sent the photo to Bruce with a caption.

Mission’s going well. Enemy has been subdued.

When Bruce received the text from Dick all the worry left him and he smiled wider than he had in long time.