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alluringjae · 3 years

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until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

⤑ ctto above!!

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

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kaissauce · 3 years

Note

okay, phucker, do it

ok let's do this @rolli-zolli @ninikins

Horrortale: technically an alternate timeline instead of au. after a neutral run where undyne's queen the core malfunctions and food becomes scarce and people resort to eating humans because sans suggested it. Aliza is the protag. latest thing that happened in the ongoing comic was Aliza agreeing to go with Papyrus to solve his last puzzle. as for the appearance of sans he has a HUGE hole on his head and a red eye. he got the hole from undyne when she got his magic eye which was going to be used to power the core. sans didnt die tho and killed the guards holding him down and just took whatever eye was on the ground and used it as a replacement for his magic eye that's powering the core. i quote first words he said after putting the eye in his socket "who the fuck took my phone?". then the magic eye went apeshit and broke the core again. oh and also he made alphys braindead by quite literally scrambling her brain. yeah this au is rough sans hasn't really eaten anything since the core was destroyed since he decided not to eat any humans.

Dusttale: i think this was originally a korean au? basic rundown: too many genocide runs sans goes apeshit and tries to get his Lv up by killing monsters himself man went fuckin insane kills his brother blah blah blah edgy angsty au the ghost of papyrus haunts him n stuff. sans literally just looks the same except he has his hood on and sometimes artists draw him with papyrus's scarf. the cool artists draw him with his hood on and has the hood completely cover his face so u can only see his glowing pupils. although people call him dust sans he's actually named murder sans

Killer: so frickin similar to dusttale except sans goes apeshit because of the human being like "join me lmao". three different outcomes come from this. i think it was 1 sans joins human 2 sans joins human kills human later on 3 kills human or something. friends with color sans who is basically his impulse control. pretty sure his soul's fucked up and Color sans tries to make his soul un-fucked but Nightmare comes in and fucks up the progress. he has white shorts, his eye sockets are constantly pitch black and leaking tar or something also has a weird target thingy on his chest. OH YEAH ALSO HE HAS BEEF WITH UNDERSWAP SANS ALMOST FORGOT. basically swap sans tried to make killer good and then they had a fight, swap sans lost and was on the verge of dying thankfully swap papyrus was able to save him in time i think

Dreamtale: Dream isn't in the drawing but his brother, Nightmare is. Sooo he used to not look all goooy and have tentacles n stuff but then he ate a couple hundred apples and yeah. he's six years old apparently. Nightmare and Dream are supposed to be guardians of a tree that has 500 golden apples and 500 black n goopy apples. the golden aples are positive and the goop ones are negative. you're not supposed to eat either of them cus bad shit happens. Dream and Nightmare live in a village and for whatever reason they're all dicks to Nightmare because ooughh he's the guardian of negativity that's not baller. he also goes apeshit (do u see a pattern here) and eats a goopy apple n then becomes the goop man he is today. he fuckin eats 999 apples jesus christ. and the last one is eaten by Dream because if u eat all 1000 apples u become unstoppable and immortal. so that would be a bad thing if nightmare got the last one. wop wop wop these dude aren't sanses they only have the body of one if that makes sanse.

Error: manlet. he's literally an error and that's why he's like that. also he's technically not a sans now, the redesign for him was so that he could be in the creator's webcomic named Lucidia. Error sans, aka the destroyer of aus, finds aus to be mistakes so he tries to get rid of them. his process of doing this is simple: get the human soul to the void so that they can't reset, destroy the au. he primarily attacks using his strings which can wrap around one's soul and control them. he like some aus like outertale because of how open and empty it is. he likes to be alone and has haphephobia. if u touch him he'll glitch out and possibly crash. he crashes whenever gets overwhelmed. said crashing causes him to shut down and reboot and he's powerless while doing so. he's actually pretty easy to beat if you know how to push his buttons the right way. in the og ask error blog made by his creator Loverofpiggies he kidnaps Swap sans who tries to help Error become a better person. this ends horribly as error leaves Swap sans in the void who then becomes an error aswell due to being alone in the void too long. Error actually regrets doing that to swap sans

Aftertale: OK FUN FACT THE SANS OF THIS AU, WHO'S NICKNAMED "Geno" IS ERROR. aftertale is a comic made by LoverofPiggies it's been SOOOO long since i last read it so i cant really give a good summary. but anyways Geno is trapped in the loading screen with the human and will die if he leaves the loading screen. eventually from being in the loading screen for too long after the events of aftertale he becomes Error.

OOF WOWIE THERE'S SO MUCH TO GO

Underfresh: he's not even a sans either. "Fresh" is a parasite inhabiting a skeleton. his birthday is on 4/20 which is ironic cus he doesn't like drugs. he censors swears. he speaks 90's lingo and dresses like a neon sign. for some reason he has eyebrows and a gold tooth. the glasses he has can change text but normally defaults to "YOLO". he can't feel anything since he has no soul of his own and just latches onto the host's. instead he learns how to act from the people around him. not being able to feel actually bothers him a LOT

Echotale: Aka Gaster sans. uhhh this one was also a comic if i remember correctly. basically Frisk and G!Sans are the only ones in the au and they're trying to find the core to fix the fucked up timeline that they're in but the core keeps changing positions so that sucks.

Swapfell: originally made by Khhoppang who left social media. Started out as an Alphys x Undyne au so only those two were designed but Kh was planning to design more of the characters. before they could people had a field day with the idea of mashing two aus together and SO many people came up with their own designs for sans and papyrus. Khhoppang left social media because they got overwhelmed with all the art reposters and stuff, pretty sad. the appearance of the sans in that au is the purple one with a scythe (i dont think he has a scythe in the og design).

Swapfell Red: so basically this is the swapfell made by people that isn't Khhoppang. community made per se. Sans's appearance changes constantly because as said before many people made many different designs. typically he just looks like Swap sans but with red high heel boots and his color scheme fits underfell

Fellswap (gold): Au made by blackggggum. so swapfell is underswap turned fell, fell swap is underfell swapped it takes a bit to understand that. his appearance is somewhat similar to Swapfell red. He's kind to his friends but if ur his enemy he'll fucking deck you. he's blind in his left eye, the leader of the royal guard, and secretly into dressmaking. fun fact in this au Papyrus has autism

Xtale: uuuuhhhh so Cross is a complicated one. he's part of the royal guard along with papyrus. has beef with xgaster. responsible for the downfall of his au and then Underverse happens and Ink is all "oh cool someone to mess with" and they became friends for a bit then shit hit the fan

Underfell: OOOOO YES UNIRONICALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITES. So Underfell sans is actually a very powerful mf and constantly has his magic eye activated because he has so much magic. This au is also technically an alternate timeline where monsters "lost their humanity" as the creator put it. so basically trust in the underground is scarce. Sans and papyrus, contrary to many interpretations i fucking hate, are actually on good terms (and no sans doesn't call papyrus "boss" the creator said if he does he'd do it ironically and papyrus would hate it). Fun facts he pays Grillby in socks (grillby accepts the socks as payment and wears them), if u make grillby laugh he gives u a jacket that looks like his and it's heavily implied that sans made him laugh because their jackets are similar

Underswap: ah yes another classic that i love as well. originally made by PopcornPr1nce who fled social media because they hated how the majority fandom treated Underswap (Blueberry and Carrot were popular names for the fanon swap papyrus and sans). Swap sans is constantly infantilized by the community which sucks and i hate it so i draw my own very super cool version of him whom i kin because i am also very super cool.

Outertale: mainly an aesthetic au pretty sure there's no comic of it. basically, instead of underground they in space. outer sans dies in underverse after like minutes of screentime lmao

Epictale: a comic made by Yugogeer. the og comic was retconned and the creator loathes the original version and made a reboot that's much better. Sans actually dies very early in it because Yugo hates how Sans is almost always focused on in aus. also the creator hates how meme-y their sans has become (like him saying bruh every single sentence, using a rubber chicken as a weapon, cookies, etc.) he's friends with Cross but not in canon. He has a purple magic eye that makes him immortal and i think only epic gaster could remove it which is how sans was able to be killed when he fought gaster.

Temmietale: it's undertale but everyone is temmie, don't question it

Trainertale: it's undertale but it's Pokemon, don't question it

Dancetale: it's undertale but you dance instead of fight, don't

Mobtale/Mafiatale: im unsure if mobtale and mafiatale are separate or not but they are very similar. basically undertale but mafia it's self explanatory

Undertale: no clue which au is this one, nope not at all/j

Bittytale or whatever idk: so take sans, make him small. boom. never understood this au

THAT BASTARD INK: HOOO BOY SAVED THE WORST FOR LAST. FUCK THIS GUY/j. THIS DUDE. IS THE REASON IM STILL INTO UNDERTALE AUS. I LOVE EM SO MUCH. also technically not a sans. He comes from an unfinished au and ripped his own soul to escape said au and became an outcode. for so long he was just a soulless husk until someone drew him and he got splashed with paint which let him feel. soon he learned to keep the paint in vials so that he can be able to feel 24/7. And then he learned how to create things with a paintbrush and the paint and spent time alone drawing up his own world until a portal appeared and took him to the multiverse. now he encourages artists to keep creating aus. he's the protector of aus in the sense that he keeps other outcodes from disrupting the script of the au, so if it's pacifist and an outcode tries to kill people he'd stop them, if it's genocide and an outcode tried to help them he'd stop them. no matter what he wants the au to stay on script. fun fact the creator of ink and the creator of error never had them interact with each other in canon, that was all the fandom's doing. Contrary to popular belief he's not really considered "good" his alignment is officially "Chaotic neutral". I personally interpret him a lot more chaotic than in canon because it's fun but he's a pretty chill guy actually. he can just be a bit of an ass sometimes. According to the creator of Ink (who is Comyet) his interpretation in Underverse is not canon compliant. one of the biggest canon things that underverse contradicts is Ink deliberately not taking his vials. if he were to do that in canon he'd become a husk again which is the equivalent of him "dying". he was described as a walking corpse by Comyet, without the vials he can't function anymore. Like Error he's pretty easy to beat if you know his weaknesses. also he has fears of empty spaces and being alone

off topic kinda but i very much love how Error and Ink are opposites yet parallel even though they were completely written without the other in mind. Error believes getting rid of aus is getting rid of anomalies. Ink believes people interfering with aus are anomalies. Error loves emptiness, Ink hates emptiness. list goes on it's funky fresh.

also uhhh sanses missing from that drawing that i can name from the top of my head

Seraphim sans, Insans, Dusttrust, He who shall not be named because he's from an 18+ au, Swapswap (yes. that exists), Storyshift, Inverted Fate (very good au i suggest checking it out), Negatale, Oceantale, Template, Pale, Mafiafell, Farmtale

my phone is at 9% y'all are spared from me going on

#long post #ask #ninikins #rolli zolli

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luvteez · 4 years

Text

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

#blame 5*os for the creation of the band au idea #ateez smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez hard hours #atz smut #luvsmut #the ending is rushed oopsie but i never know how to end smut scenes ahahaha

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch-Part 11

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

You know... just a trip to the aquarium... what could possibly go wrong?

First < Previous > Next

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“Don't you think we should wake him up?” Adrien asks, looking towards Nino’s door.

“Absolutely not,” Marion picks through his sugary cereal, “You may not understand, as a natural morning person, but waking us up is a death sentence,”

“We’re going to be late,” Adrien seems nervous stirring his cereal, Marion tries not to snort, only someone who has their life planned to the minute would think so.

“Then he’ll rush to get ready and be out the door in five minutes,” Marion bites done, trying not to cringe at the sweetness, speaking through his mouthful, “Like any non-morning person does,”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just get up early?”

“I have no idea how to explain just how wrong you are,”

Marion pushes the bowl away, why Adrien insisted on trying it he had no idea. He goes to double check his bag. He was carrying the miracle box today. It’s compartment taking up half his satchel. Something Klakki seemed annoyed by while Plagg was happy to curl up, like any cat would.

As it got closer to time to leave Adrien keeps glancing at Nino’s door then back to Marion. Marion tries not to smile as he brainstormed names and researched birds. He had found one called Sabine's Gull, tempting but not enough to risk his Maman's life, even if the chances were slim. Adrein keeps reminding Marion of the time, down to the last seven minutes before the bus is meant to leave.

“And three, two,” Marion caught Adrien's attention, “one,”

“I”m Late!” Nino yells from his room, followed by a yelp and some crashing.

Marion chuckles, ignoring Adrien’s ‘I told you so look,’. That was quickly replaced by Marion's one as in only four minutes fifty six seconds Nino was dressed, fed and out the door. They race downstairs, reaching the ground floor to see a crowd outside the building. Marion frowns, they were blocking the way out, and he could see the bus over their heads. Most people held cameras and a few with microphones. They walk outside, trying to push their way to the bus, when Marion spots Marinette in the middle of the crowd.

“Whats going on?” He interrupts Marinette talking with someone rudely shoving a microphone in her face, which filled with relief at seeing him.

“I’ve been trying to explain to these people that-”

“Excuse me but what's your relationship to Bruce Wayne?” A... reporter? cuts Marinette off.

“Bruce Wayne?” Marion casts a confused look to Marinette, “I hardly know him,”

“So he hasn't been a very involved Father?” The reporter asks, and Marion’s does a double take.

“Wh-what?” Marion looks to Marinette who only sighs, “He’s not my Father,”

“Did he tell you to say that?” Another reporter butts in.

“Yes, people who aren’t my Papa usually do,” Marion says sarcastically, pushing the microphone away from his face.

“So he did tell you to say that?” The reporter asks, a glint in their eye that he was most familiar with Alya having when asking Chat Noir questions(when Ladybug wasn't available of course).

“Do you not recognise sarcasm?” He turns to Marinette, “Do they not know sarcasm?”

“No, they also don’t know the term, ‘He’s not my Father,” Marinette chastises, looking at the surrounding crowd like they were three year olds, “and, ‘I already have a Papa’,”

“But you were adopted,” Someone calls out, making Marion reel back and Marinette flinch. Ok. things that are not ok for strangers to talk about; that.

“First of all, it’s creepy that you know that,” Marion snaps, “Second it’s rude to bring that up to a stranger, if at all, and third that doesn't mean that of all people Bruce Wayne is our Father,”

“You heard it here first folks,” A reporter to the side announces, “Confirmation of the Wayne twins,”

“How was that confirmation! Did our english tutor skew us over!?” Marion yells, spinning to Marinette.

“Mari, let’s just go,” Marinette tries to pull him away only to be blocked by multiple reporters all talking-yelling over each other to ask invasive questions.

They were used to reporters as Ladybug and Chat Noir even MDC and MCD, but no one knew anything personal about them. Well mostly. This was not the same. They had apparently done their research as they were shouting out specific questions about their lives. Someone mentioned Chloe asking if the Wayne's were friends with the Mayor of Paris. Marion doubts that, the Wayne's charity work did not line up with the Mayor’s self-serving nature.

They try to ignore any more questions and side step the crowd, slowly making their way to the bus. To their horror the bus pulls away as they reach the curb. Watching the rear window Lila’s smug face is smirking back at their stupor. Neither even have enough sense to reach for their phones before a motorbike pulls up in front of them. The reporters scramble to get out of the way, or get run over.

“Saw the news, thought you could use some rescuing,” Jason pulls off his helmet gesturing to the bike, and the twins hop on, the press snapping pictures like crazy, “Where to?”

“Aquarium, the bus left without us,” Marinette answers, holding onto Marion as they speed away.

Marion can hear Jason mutter unsavoury curses under his breath about the class, and can’t help but agree. They see the bus and Jason speeds up, riding alongside it. No one looks over until Jason practically punches the side. The loud clang making even Marion jump. When their classmates look out to see the twins waving. Marion watches as Kagami starts yelling and the bus signals to pull over. Jason slows down to trail behind the bus as it does. The second the doors open their friends rush out, as the twins get off the bike.

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien frets, “We tried to hold them off,”

“Little miss liar decided that it would be a waste of time waiting for you,” Chloe scoffs, Marion bats her hands away trying to tame his hair himself.

“She convinced everyone you could get your own ride,” Kagami looks like she was planning to throw Lila into traffic.

“We sorta did,” Marion laughs, turning to Jason, “Thanks for that,”

“No problem, didn’t want Bruce picking you up, he’d probably drive you straight to the nearest adoption agency,” Jason pulls his helmet back on, mounting his bike, “Have fun,”

“Thank you,” Marinette calls, and they both wave goodbye.

“Marinette, Marion, please get on the bus we are already very late,” Madam Bustier reprimands, looking out the bus door.

They shuffle back onto the bus, the entire class, minus Max, looking annoyed, if not angry. They bus starts up again, tempting Marion to just walk. Instead he holds onto the bar, Marinette next to him, letting the others take back their seats. The one next to Adrien noticeably empty.

“Was that really necessary?” Alya speaks first, passive aggressive, leaning into the aggressive.

“Well, the bus left, so yeah?” Marion asks, He would be confused why they were angry when they should be upset. But he knew exactly what happened; Lila.

“Only because you stopped to chat with the reporters,” Rose says not unkindly, she has a reassuring look as if there was no ill intentions. There probably wasn't, from her, the rest of the class was hit or miss, mostly hit.

“We weren't trying-”

“It was quite inconsiderate,” Lila cuts Marinette off, “I get hounded by reporters day in, day out but I always do my best to make sure they never come near or disrupt the class,”

Marion could almost snort at that, Lila giving herself away without even knowing it. No reporter would stop trying to corner her if anything she says were really true. Lila bats her eyelashes and gets agreements from the class, Which as per usual spurs her on.

“I mean it’s one thing to spread that awful lie , but to actually call the press to sabotage our trip?” Lila fakes a sniffle at the end. Marion can’t help but suspect she had more to do with this morning than he realised.

“We didn’t do anything, and we certainly didn’t call them,” Marinette says defensively, calmly but visibly restraining her anger. And it Marinette was angry Marion was livid.

“Right and every time your with the Waynes there just happen to be cameras around?" Sabrina sneers, arms crossed Marion glowers down at her. He holds his hand out to Kagami who stands to argue, she sits down begrudgingly.

"Not to mention you've never even mentioned the Waynes before, while Lila has known them for years," Nathaniel mutters, not meeting Marion's gaze as it snaps to him.

"If you want to say something just say it," Marion addresses the whole class, opening the flood gates.

“You’re just looking for attention!” Kim stands up, slamming his hands onto the seat in front of him, startling Mylene.

“Attention?!” Marion rears back, he can feel the anger radiating from his friends behind him.

“Yeah! your jealous of Lila knowing the Waynes so your trying to ruin the trip for her!" Kim points at Marion, although he suspected he meant both of them.

"We know your just trying to distract everyone from the charity she set up in Gotham, so she doesn't get any recognition!" Mylene accuses, genuine rage and hurt behind it.

"The Mayor of Gotham even cancelled the celebration for Lila because you two are causing so much trouble," Rose cries, voice quivering.

"She was going to invite the whole class! Even you two!" Sabrina spits, yeah right.

"You're filling the news up with Tabloid lies!" Alya joins, yelling over Madame Bustiers meek protests.

“What the?!" Marion re orientates himself from the barrage, "Those are all lies! how can you not see that?"

“Don’t start this again, I thought you were over the whole liar thing?" Alya half demands, half mutters.

“We’d be ‘over it’ is she stopped lying!" Marion's eyes follow where his finger points, smug grin churning his stomach uneasily.

“Thats rich coming from you," Kim scoffs, bitter tone so unlike his usual default rage or cheer.

“ What," Marion turns to him, but only gets a glare back.

“You two are always lying to get out of class and school events," Ivan answers for him. Well that was true but they couldn’t admit it.

“Thats not-

“Save it we know you can’t stand to be around us," Juleka cuts off Marinette, her sour tone practically screaming compared to her normal volume. Also true but probably for different reasons then they think.

“If you spread this whole rumour as a way to get out of the trip, fine, do that, but don’t keep disrupting out trip for your five minutes of fame," Alix startles Marion by cutting in. She usually didn't speak to anyone anymore, let alone Lila.

“Five minutes of fame?- spread the rumour? Do you honestly think we wanted this?” Marinette doesn't expect an answer.

“Yes,” It came from Alya, cold and bitter. With one look at Marinette he could tell exactly what his sister was remembering.

Alya has pretty much migrated to Lila after plans being cancelled with Marinette one to many times. After which marintte tried to organise another plan but Alya told her in the nicest way possible(Still pretty crushing) that she would perfer to hang out wwiht lie la and that she and Mari had drifted apart. Mari does point out that this isn’t fair but Alya says she deserves better than a secondary plan, Mari points out that Alya had done that plenty of times. Alya agrees, apologies and lists it as another reason they should renounce their friendship. The rest of the class:

Marinette bounces up to her best friend. She finally had a weekend off, so concerts, no urgent commissions and her manager promised to keep it that way. The only thing that could interrupt this weekend was Hawkmoth himself. Marion even offered to take her earrings.

"Hey Alya are you free-"

"No," It's a single word, but spoken with such resentment and conviction it couldn't be missed,

"I didn’t-" Marinette's face scrunches, was dark Cupid on a rampage again?

"No Marinette I’m done, done with making plans, getting excited only to be cancelled or stood up, I’m done,” The aspiring reporter sounds so strangely defeated, completely unlike herself.

“Alya I’m so sorry about last week-” Marinette apologises again, gut twisting at the though she hurt her best friend this badly.

“It’s not just last week, its the one before and the one before that and every other week, I’m sick of it!” Alya spits, meeting Marinette's eyes for the first time, seeing nothing but rage and hurt.

“Alya I'm really sorry, I’ve had a lot going on and-” Marinette frets, gesturing wildly.

“I know Marinette, you’ve been busy in the bakery and with your designs and every other excuse you've given me, I deserve better,”

“Of course you do Alya, I promise I-”

“No, Marinette its fine,” Alya sounds tired, stepping away from Marinette's outstretched hand, “We’ve been drifting apart for a long time now and I’m tired of acting like nothings changed, I can’t keep putting more effort into this friendship, more time than you, I have friends who are actually there for me, like Lila,”

At that Marinette saw red. Of course it was Lila who put her up to this, whispering in her ear, turning Alya against Marinette.

“That’s not fair! Your not even giving me a chance!” Marinette snaps, her jaw tenses as Alya glares.

“I’ve given you plenty of chances,” Alya glowers.

“Why is this the first I’m hearing of it,” Marinette crosses her arms.

“I shouldn’t have to threaten to end our friendship for you to show up!” Alya shouts, taking a step forward as Marinette stumbles back.

"What did Lila say?!" There was no way Alya would say this, would do this, they were meant to stick together through thick and thin, "Is she making you do this?!"

"So help me- yes Lila talked to me!" Alya throws her hands up, "But not because she's out to get you, like your so convinced, but because she's a good friend who cares when I come crying over getting stood up by you!"

“You’ve cancelled on me plenty of times!” Marinette defends, she had her blog and Marinette was always understanding.

“I know and I’m sorry,” Alya takes a deep breath, “I don’t think either of us are being fair to each other, it’s better to just renounce our friendship before it all comes crashing down,”

“Alya please," Marinette begs, reaching out, tears pricking her eyes.

“I’m sorry Marinette but this is the right decision for me,” Alya walks away, not looking back at the tears streaming down her former friends face, “and I hope in time you’ll realise it was the right thing for you too,”

Marion remembers that day so well. Marinette coming home crying, the Akuma. Bunnix jumping into their room followed by the adult version of them, with miraculous holders he didn’t recognise. They battle with an akumatized Ladybug was tough, even with the extra help. The Akuma was cleansed and the rest of Paris had their memories wiped, leaving Marion the only one in their time who remembers. He never brought it up to Marinette and he never will.

“Well your wrong, we worked hard to get this trip and why would we want to ruin it?" Marion answers, Marinette remaining silent.

“Please we all know you stole Lila’s work," Sabrina rolls her eyes, Marion catches Chloe scowling at her.

“Wh-what!” Marinette splutters, Marion tries to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, I accidentally let slip that I wrote up the essay to get us this trip,” Lila bats her eyes, curling in on herself as if they're going to attack her for it. Marion just might.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything Lila," Alya places a comforting hand on her shoulder, "They stole the essay you worked so hard, one that you managed to write even when setting up a charity!"

“I wasn't doing to impress everyone, I just wanted everyone to get to go on this amazing trip, so when you two said you weren’t going to make a submission because it was so much work, I just had to, but at least you sent it in, I couldn't do that since I’m not class president,

“Maybe she should be," Marion doesn't care who muttered it, it doesn't matter.

“That's it,” The entire class freezes, at his tone or expression, doesn't matter, they don't matter, “Marinette worked hard day and night trying to get that submitted on time, she had to research and find all the information and evidence to what this class has done because none of you would talk to her and give all the details, you refused to help out in even the most minuscule ways, No not even! you all actively made it harder!”

“Thats not-

“Enough!” Marion hones in on Lila who falls quite for once, “You lie and scheme and take credit for whats not yours, you treat the class like a bunch of mindless sheep and you know what? I’m starting to see why,”

“Marion,” Madame Bustier reprimands, finally being heard in the following silence “That is quite enough thats no example for your friends-”

“They aren’t my friends,” Marion sends a cold look over the bus, “None of them are,”

The class goes silent. Marion wouldn’t be surprised if that came as a shock to most of them. Despite them not ever talking or spending time together. It was true that the only person who had truly cut them out was Alya, probably because Marinette kept trying even after they had long since stopped with their class. Mostly he was sure they were shocked that he was the one breaking it off, not even giving them a say. They didn’t deserve one. Not that they weren't going to try.

“Fine then! I don’t want anything to do with you anyway!”

“Yeah! You act like a complete jerk then have the gall to say that?”

“We haven't been friends for a long time anyway!”

“You’re nothing but mean to Lila and think we want to be friends?!”

“Don't go forgetting you said that when your all alone!"

He sits down and resolutely stares out the window. More insults are hurled out, Marion paying no mind to the source. Madame Busiter tries to reprimand him for saying 'such hurtful things;. Lila is sobbing and everyone is offering her pointless comfort. Marion doesn't listen but is vaguely aware of Kagami and Chloe arguing with the teacher. He lets the hushed whispers fall behind him. He feels a push against his thigh where his bag rests, knowing it’s Plagg. The small comfort doing nothing.

He notices the bus is driving faster than strictly allowed. He looks over to the bus driver and feels bad for the clearly uncomfortable man stuck right in the middle of their teenage angst.

They arrive at the aquarium. Marion doesn't even try to hide his anger. Let Lila revel in his reaction. His friends try to calm him down, or rather Adrien does, Chloe and Kagami are still glaring daggers. Luckily Marinette convinces Adrien to stop before Marion snaps at him.

He catches a group near them whispering and pointing with their phones held up. Marion sends his deadliest glare and they immediately back off, scuttling off to some other area of the aquarium.

He is left alone after that. Adrien has redirected his attention to cheering Marinette up, the two pointing out fish. Seeing them smiling together Marion feels some anger slip through his grasp. Only to be promptly returned when he accidentally looks over at Lila’s gaggle, whispering and glaring. Marion glares right back making a few of them flinch. He turns and storms off to another part of the aquarium, away from the rest of the class.

“Hey kid you alright?” A fair distance away Plagg whispers from his bag.

“No! Obviously not!” Marion whisper-shouts, not looking down.

“Want to get out of here?” Now Marion does look down at Plagg grinning.

Klakki is off to the one side of the bag, looking up but not interrupting. He and the Kwami are close but they all knew he and Plagg were two halves of a whole. So the other Kwami let him handle it.

“Can’t exactly go running around Gotham right now,” Marion comes to stand in the typical tunnel that you see in aquariums, surrounded on both sides by colourful fish and a few larger creatures like stingrays and sharks.

“We can go back to Paris,” Plagg offers, he glances down at the bag to see Klakki nod.

The Kwami usually didn’t like their miraculous being used for anything but heroics. Still he got a sure nod from Klakki. Marion takes a deep breath, looking out to the fish swimming around the tank, darting in and out of coral. He forced down his anger in the same way he would in Paris. He usually didn’t let himself stay angry that long, or Marinette would help him calm down sooner.

“It’s fine,” Marion sighs, pushing the anger, or rather, his class out of mind, “I’m fine,”

Plagg doesn't comment on his obvious lie, all too used to it. He sees Plagg dart into his pocket out the corner of his eye. Marion smiles, zipping his bag back up with a smile at Klakki who gives a curt nod. He stuff his hands into his hoodie’s pocket and feels the small Kwami inside. Marion lets a small smile settle on his face. Looking out at the fish as he is pulled along by the conveyor belt as he pets Plagg purring from his pocket.

His smile only fades when he notices the rest of the class enter the tunnel, looking from the other side of the glass. He makes no move to join them, even when his friends do a minute later. He turns to look at the other side of the tunnel, doing his best to avoid them.

This becomes the least of his problems when gunshots ring. He ducks down on the non moving part of the sidewalk. Screams can be heard and he looks up through the tank where the class is still in view. Marinette is looking around for him and he curses himself, not being able to change into costume without her. Voices get closer and Marinette starts herding the class further down the tunnel, Marion losing sight of them behind coral. He moves to meet to her when two men each in a gas mask and carrying guns enter the tunnel.

“Where are the Wayne twins!” One yells, another shot making those near scream.

“You know, I’m starting to think Aunt Selina doesn't have this handled,” Marion mutters to Plagg, staying where he is to keep the thugs in sight.

“Forget about that, this won’t end well,” Klakki scolds, Marion watches as the thugs start walking in opposite directions.

“Tell me about, Lila’s going to have a field day,” Marion pulls his hood up, losing sight of the goon going towards the class, focusing now on the one heading his way.

“Not the point,” Klakki sighs, Marion zips up the bag realising he also has the Miracle box.

He throws the satchel on his back tightening the strap across his chest. Plagg was complaining, but Marion only ignores him watching the oncoming goon. He was pointing his gun at some people but wasn’t looking at their faces. Probably clothes then, there were probably plenty of pictures of what they were wearing today. Perfect.

Marion takes off his Jacket followed by his hoodie. He debates keeping his staff for a split second but quickly stuffs it in his satchel followed by his gloves. Turing both his hoodie and Jacket inside out to matching black, he ties the hoodie around his waist and shrugs on the jacket.

He lies down on the moving sidewalk slowly moving him towards the thug. Marion hugs his bag and covers his face. He tenses at the heavy footsteps going by as he slowly moves past. The goon doesn't even stop and he makes a mental note to thank Marinette. He feels the turn of a corner and rolls up onto the unmoving part to the side. Keeping his head below the glass, he crouches down running as fast as he can while refastening his satchel around his chest.

“Found one!” Marion hears a yell just as he reaches the entrance.

He ducks to the side just as all eyes in the room snap to where he was. Marion shrinks into the shadow of a fish tank just outside the entrance, ducking down and covering his head. If anyone actually saw him in his now all black outfit they could easily shrug it off as just missing him the first time.

Marion doesn't look up as people go past, no one noticing him in the shadows. He waits for a few cautious seconds for any more footsteps to go by before scanning the room. There's many civilians huddled around, the nearest security exit being covered by another thug in a gas mask, a trend it seems.

Alright plan time, Marinette can handle herself for a few minutes. Presumably these guys are working for Scarecrow if the gas masks are any indication. Scarecrow was probably with Marinette in the tunnel. If he clears an exit quietly here then he can get the civilians closest to the fight out of danger. It could also provide an entrance to whoever comes to save them.

There's no other thugs in the room so he moves silently, sticking to the shadows to get close to the emergency exit. Luckily the goon is distracted by an octopus in a nearby tank so Marion stays out of his line of sight. He gets up behind the goon, not breathing, and pounces. One hand unlatches the gas mask and covers his mouth and the other grabbing the hand holding the gun. He digs his fingers hard enough into his hand to make the wrist bleed and the gun is dropped. Marion catches it with one foot, balancing as much as possible with the man thrashing in his grip. He gently lowers the gun to the ground so it doesn't clatter. Letting go of his wrist, nails bloody Marion brings his arm around his neck. Squeezing for a minute until the goon passed out. Marion gently lowers him to the ground.

“Quietly,” He hisses to the room.

They do get up quietly. Parents with children covering their mouths as they exit. Marion makes sure they're all a good ways down the hall before tracking back to the tunnel. He can see them through the glass and as he predicted there was Scarecrow, in a very familiar monologue stance. A glimpse at Marinette's expression was all the confirmation he needed. He heads in the same direction as the moving walkway, knowing he’ll be in a blind spot.

“Still not answering,” Marion catches Scarecrow say, stopping as soon as he can hear them, “I think it’s time you screamed so he knows this is serious,”

“Going to show me the rest of your wardrobe?”

Marion's smirk quickly fades with the tell tale snap of a bone breaking. He sprints down the tunnel. Marinette groans. Marion rounds the corner. His sister holding her arm, bending at an unnatural angle. The rest of the class are huddled to the sides with various degrees of horror.

Marion doesn't give Scarecrow enough time to consider trying anything else before he attacks the nearest goon. They shout out and Marion blindly throws quick punches at whoever gets to close. The belt is moving along, Marion now being surrounded by his classmates. Kim cheers as he sends a particularly brutal punch into one guy's face. Marion hears the hiss of a guns release, looking up to see Scarecrow pointing a gun at the now very quiet Kim. Marion anticipates the shot, diving in the bullets path before it can reach its target.

There's a gasp from somewhere, someone. He feels a burst not of pain, but fear. It’s something he's used to Akuma doing, dragging up all his anxieties from the recesses of his mind. Marion shuts his eyes tight, visions dancing across the darkness. He takes a practiced slow breath. He had learnt long ago that letting fear take hold in battle would only lead to fantasy becoming reality.

Marion cracks open his eyes, focusing on where he was. They were still on the belt moving slowly. Everything around him was warped from a few seconds ago but he was still standing in the narrow-too narrow tunnel.

Alright then what is reality. Giant sharks jumping out at him? No, there’s glass. Swarm of purple butterflies? No this is Gotham they probably don’t have flowers. The past Akuma? Just regular people. Marinette covered in blood? She only broke her arm. His parents dead on the floor? They are in Paris. Lila with devil horns cackling? Probably reality.

He takes another calming breath, nothing but the images of Akuma mattered here. But there were dozens more than there had been people a minute ago so some were fake. He could still work with this. Marion takes a deep breath straightening up. The Hawkmoth in front of him looks surprised, he had to guess that was his stand in for Scarecrow right now.

He stumbles a step forward. The akumatized versions of his classmates jeer, most yelling things he had heard that day. The first Akuma leaps out at him, Marion decks him, the weight under his fist feels real and the Akuma goes right down. Focusing his fear on the fight part of fight of flight, he goes to punch the second Akuma with as much force. The blow goes right through the image and Marion stumbles forward. Alright so there were definitely fakes. Marion tousles with any Akuma that comes after him, sometimes landing hits on empty air. It’s typically the more difficult Akuma that are real, so Marion almost scoffs when Mr Pigeon comes at him. He doesn't even block the blow to his ribs. Big mistake, he is kicked back with a burst of pain and a sickening crack.

‘Alright so that was real’ Marion thinks to himself, back connecting with the glass behind him. He falls forward, right on his chest. Marion groans into the metal below, losing focus, letting images of Akumas flying into his ring play on loop. Marion can feel pressure at his back but is far too focused on trying to heave air back into his lungs to care. The weight lifts and Marion watches Marinette's akumatized form crash in front of him, punching what looks like Viperion. Not sure if it's a memory or not he shudders a breath as she knocks out Viperion and leans over Marion.

“Good job C, I’ve got it from here,” Marinette words come out sickeningly sinister, blood running out her eyes and mouth. A great contrast to how she gently pushes him onto his side, making it somewhat easier to breathe.

Marion watches as the twisted version of his sister attacks what looks like civilians. Part of him itches to get up to stop her. Marinette's arm hangs limply at her side. He focuses on that. an Akuma's arm wouldn’t be broken. Civilians wouldn’t have guns. Marinette dodges the bullets instead of deflecting them. Bullets wouldn’t just go through sharks with more rows of teeth than possible. Water doesn't look like blood.

Marion takes a deep breath, his chest burst with pain. It’s fine he can handle that. And with that Marion notices his body bending at an odd angle. He looks down ignoring the corpses of his family laying around him. His legs are still propped up on the unmoving part of the sidewalk. With a grunt Marion pulls them onto the moving part, still not comfortable on top of the shifting plates.

Marion hears screaming, more grounded than the shrieks that have been playing in his head so far. Looking back to Marinette she looked like herself again, yay. But now Hawkmoth was pointing a gun at their friends, oh no. Why would Hawk Moth have a gun? Oh right, fear toxin. Marinette surrenders, letting Mayura come up behind and hold her.

“You have been a pain,” Hawkmoth drawls, Marion hisses, drawing his attention, “Well, it’s not like we need both of you alive,”

The gun points at him, Marinette is shouting but it sounds under water. Marion's visions clear slightly, focusing in on the slow press of the trigger. At the last second the gun jerks to the side, the sound of glass breaking followed by a stream of water landing on Marion. He looks up to see Chloe has tackled Hawkmoth and Kagami is after Mayura.

Fighting breaks out again, he tries to refocus. He closes his eyes, he can hear the same echoing shrieks and cries for help, accusations and insults. Cold water beats down on his side and slowly moves down his leg. He tries to take a deep breath, only to inhale water. Marion's eyes snap open to what looks like a pool of blood as he is cast into a coughing fit, his chest screaming in protest.

“Are you ok!” Kagami yells, Marion looks up to where they were only for the space to be empty. He looks back down the tunnel where they are now fighting, streams of water jetting out from the walls in all directions.

Marion keeps coughing, trolling onto his back to get away from the water. When he's done he takes short shallow breaths, chest still throbbing with pain. He looks back up and is now a fair way from the fight, about to go around the corner.

“Don’t worry I’ll be back in five minutes!” he shouts, hair dripping water in his eyes. That doesn't stop him from seeing Marinette's clearly deadpan face, that cant even be hidden by all the blood.

He lies back, looking up at the ceiling. Or rather Jaws' source of envy grinning down at him. Well at least that's better- oh nope that's his family floating dead in the water. He just sighs ignoring his chest protest, staring right back into the sharks beady black eyes. He remember the good old days where he would tease Marinette over her demented nightmare version of Adrien, who now that he though of also appeared in the water, banging on the glass shouting for help. Marion sticks his tongue out at him.

The minutes drag on Marion trying to be more fascinated than terrified with whatever his mind conjured. It was easier to calm down when the scene wasn't changing every ten seconds.

“Are you ok?” Batman is looming over him, Marion stares unimpressed at the blood dripping from his sharp teeth. A vampire? Really? His nightmares could be so uncreative.

“I’m fine,” Marion keeps his face straight at the nightmare before him, “Go ahead I’ll catch up,”

“You should stay here,” Batman reprimands, voice sounding like a growled threat, probably was.

“Don’t really have much choice,” Marion dismisses, trying not to cringe at the ‘blood’ dripping onto his face.

Marion leans back slightly to watch Batman join Robin running down the tunnel. Marion hears more gunshots seconds later. He hums to himself stubbornly ignoring his chest.

“Dude are you ok?” Nino is now leaning over him, hollowed out eyes and shadows behind him shouting about Marion's insecurities.

“Leave me demon,” Marion watches him reel back, he would probably look confused if Marion could actually read his face.

“We need to move you-”

“Do not,” Marion cuts him off, glaring down at Kim or at least a demon that looked like him trying to pick him up, “My ribs are very much broken and moving would hurt very much right now, thank you,”

“But you’re heading right for the villain!” Mylene shouts, voice sounding hollow, drowned out by echoing screams.

“Then I hope they don’t step on me, good day,” Marion focuses back on the shark which is somehow easier to deal with than his class.

“Everyone we need to go,” Lila's voice sounds normal, and that's probably the worst thing he's heard today, “Batman said-”

“We’re not just going to leave him here!” Kim shouts. Actually shouts. At Lila. Marion can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Kim, just go get an ambulance or something, right now you’re all freaking me out,” Marion says honestly, tired of sugar coating his words. Lila gives them enough sugar to get diabetes as is.

“A-are you sure?” Max asks, or a strange mix between him and Markov.

“Yes floating head I’m sure, now go,”

“... stay safe,” Nino hesitantly stands.

“Don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Marion doesn't bother watching them go.

He hears the last of their footsteps retreat and glances up at the shark. A petty part of him categories that as the second time they’ve left him today. Then again he was staring up at his personal hell so his thought process wasn’t exactly un hindered.

Marion keeps humming, noticing a knocked out thug to his side, followed by another.

“Why did you come back?” Robin snarls from above him, horns sprouting from his head.

“I didn’t by choice,” Marion says calmly as Robin throws a knife he doesn't care to keep track of, “Moving sidewalk brought me,”

“Why didn’t you get off?” Robin talks down to him like an idiot child, punching an approaching goon.

“Oh yeah, my ribs are broken,” Marion tries to shrug, lying on his back it’s hard.

“What!?” Robin thunders, the sound sending warning flares off in his paranoid state.

“Oh look at that,” Marion says, idly watching a man come up behind Robin, who apparently isn't an apparition because Robin attacks him, “Well, see ya,”

Marion is carried away, leaving the two behind.

He flinches back when Batman steps over him, attacking Scarecrow on his other side.

“What are you doing?” He growls, Marion can’t be sure if that's the fear toxin or how he usually speaks.

“Thought you could use the moral support,” Marion gives a lazy cheer as Batman punches Scarecrow. Getting a glare from Batman he had become quite accustomed to the night before. This Batman looked demented but there was the same lingering satisfaction of annoying him.

“Hey Mari,” Marinette crouches down next to him, covered in blood he can’t be sure isn’t real, but at least she's not dead in a fish tank, “How’re you holding up,”

“You’re covered in blood,” Marion blurts as she starts bleeding more.

“No I’m not, don’t worry I’m fine, just wait a second,” Marion runs over to Batman, distracting him from stopping Scarecrow from standing. Batman looks over at him before handing Marinette a needle.

“Oh sure use needles, one of the most common fears, to fix fear, what a grand idea,” Marion mutters, glaring back at Batman as Scarecrow attacks with a knife.

“Ah ha, stop complaining,” Marinette sticks the needle right in his arm without warning, Marion gasps visions fading into darkness.

“That…. was rude,” He weakly curses, feeling his conscious fade.

“You’ll forgive me,” Marinette promises sitting by his side as his eyes droop, “Get some rest, I’ll watch out for you,”

“Always do, Bug,” Marion slurs, Marinette's bright smile contrasts the darkness that follows.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #bio mum selina #bio dad bruce wayne #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020 #Mismatch #Marinette #marinette is mdc #twins au #vigilante au #pop star au #bio dad au #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #Maribat #mlb

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter One: Happy Death Anniversary, Detective.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions... (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Two years after the death of Sherlock, what could be next?

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hey there! I've finally found the motivation to post my Sherlock fic here. If you prefer AO3, click here :)

Sherlock used to call at midnight, he never cared whether you were trying to sleep, or if you were actually sleeping- he’d just call.

Sometimes to complain that technology was futile given the multitude of defaults it contained (his phone, for example)- or to talk about an article in a newspaper, thinking we’d be interested in it.

It’s been two years since the last call. No one could bring themselves to delete his number since; and I understand the reason for it. We all had some hope inside us, it was small given all the time that went by, but it was there.

We all wondered if he wasn’t alive. Movies aren’t real, so the whole fake-death scenario couldn’t have been real but we all thought “why not?”, it could happen. That was over a year ago, but I still believed it, I wasn’t quite planning on giving up; and when my phone rang a bit after midnight, I still had a glimpse of hope, each time.

That glimpse was cut short when I read the caller ID. It was John. I did like him, he just wasn’t who I expected to see, but I picked up the phone, just to not be rude. Voicemail is awful. “John? What’s going on?”

"I...I don’t really know, actually. Guess I...needed to feel less alone. I don’t even know."

“Hold on.” I glanced at my bedside as I put the phone on speaker before sitting on the bed. "...so, you couldn’t sleep?"

"Yeah, I’ve been trying for an hour, certainly because of..." He stopped, hesitating with his words.

Who else other than Sherlock would it be, honestly. The man’s always been in our thoughts, and now that he’s gone, we have to be reminded that he’s stuck in our minds. The only way to hear him is through memories, and probably some of us are afraid to forget what he sounds like through time. He wasn’t the guy to make documentaries on him, film himself- hell, he rejected every interview he was offered. The only thing we have is pictures, which isn’t enough.

"It’s him, isn't it?" I presumed.

"Yeah, Sherlock." He confirmed. “It’s the anniversary of his death, in two weeks.”

See, that was the kind of thing I didn’t want to recall as it made me think of what I didn’t want to accept, but at the same time, if I stopped thinking about that, might as well forget Sherlock completely.

"It kept me awake too." I admitted.”I can’t believe it.”

No one really does, to be honest. We all wish that it could be fake, that’s what we would need, even if it’d hurt to see him while we mourned all this time.

"It still feels a bit weird without him, even after basically two years."

“It didn’t seem right without him, at first."

"It took us a bit to get used to it, and still...I think I didn’t get used to it fully to this day."

"Neither am I, John. I don't think I ever will. Time will make the pain less...painful, but it’ll never erase him, he'll be in our thoughts from the moment we wake up."

"I wish it was all a dream. I hate to wake up and not see him. He annoyed me sometimes but...he was my friend."

"He was annoying but a good friend, yeah.” I said, “It’s just...not right. Nothing is right. I feel like everything has gone cold. I swear that I haven't seen a single ray of sunshine."

"It's probably time fooling around, I don't know." He said.

"It could but, when he was there, there would be some sunny-ish days. I haven't seen one since. He left, and it's like he took the sun with him, John. The whole world is falling apart.”

"I felt that too, for a moment. But, I don't really trust whatever I think about these days. I don't pay much attention to whatever I do."

"You should be careful though, I don't need you to die because you didn't pay attention out there. And before you say anything, there's no joke in there. I mean it, Watson.”

"I wasn't going to say that, trust me."

"You better. I need you there."

"Same goes for me. You've been of great help since…"

"Yeah. Since." I paused. "It sucks."

"It does.” He agreed. “Well I...I’m gonna go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you all night.”

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry. It helped to talk. I could even stay a bit more, if you’re not planning on going back now.”

“Alright, then.”

It’s like the weather watched me plan the day, rain is on time. It couldn’t be more depressing on top of me dressed in black, but I just didn’t feel like coming in rainbow clothes would be appropriate, even if he wouldn’t care how I dressed anyway, even if he’s dead, yeah.

It feels weird to go, I always expected this was all a dream, or that it’d just...never happen. He’s the kind of person that outlives everyone, and Sherlock was this kind of person, he’s always been that person. He even used to say he’ll always be there, that he’d never leave, and now I guess we’ve both made mistakes, he’s not here anymore.

I never thought that would happen, I can’t tell how bad I prayed to whatever god to wake up, but that did nothing but make me a fool, nothing changed.

His apartment remained empty, as ours, he’d consider each house he could sleep at, his. I remember that he stayed at John’s for a week, before having to go back as John was “not entertaining” enough because he slept too much- As if we got to sleep all day.

He used to think everyone was like him, barely sleeping, barely tired, because I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity of seeing him elsewhere other than a room full of piles of papers.

He did sleep, but not at night, it was kind of like a cat, throughout the day, when possible. I always laughed about it along with John, and he never minded, he’d either pretend to not care, or join the conversation, and I already miss this kind of talks.

They’d either be incredibly short, or extremely long, you really had to clear your schedule for an hour or two when he’d talk. It’s not that it bothered me, it was more the others, those who didn’t know him. They’ve always found an amount of weirdness in him, which I had when I was like them, a stranger.

I never thought we’d get close, I didn’t even think anyone was close with him, he seemed quite the lonely guy, very private. Even after getting to know him, he remained quite private, as I thought, he wouldn’t share much, even with John and Mycroft; but, it didn’t matter that much, we still managed to have a great friendship, and I’ll always miss it.

Not any person will be like him, he was one of a kind. Not anyone could copy him without being seen as a fool. Sherlock Holmes was unique, he didn’t copy anyone to rise up, didn’t take anyone as a model, he did it all himself, he was a model himself.

He didn’t wish to be like anyone, it was the contrary, everyone wanted to be at his level, have the recognition he had, the fame, all the things that made him known, that made Sherlock be him. Even I won’t find a mentor like him, not any of them will be better, they’ll all seem ridiculous to me, even if they have more experience than him.

Nothing will be the same. This world won’t be the same without him being here, he’s gone now.

He took a big piece of whatever thing, when he left, and whatever thing he took was a big one, because it left us all empty. The kind of empty feeling that won’t quite go away, we’ve all been so used to having him around so much that it was a habit.

And now that he’s gone, nothing feels right, even living doesn’t feel right. It won’t ever feel right without him.

I almost feel guilty for being alive, I’m not as smart as him, I won’t contribute to anything. He was the smart one, we really lost an important person and I don’t think it wouldn’t have changed much if I had died instead, people would just be sad, I think.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

His death is bad to the point that the world he left behind can’t function as well as when he was alive. The whole puzzle is missing, hell, the whole world, if I go out of the metaphor.

...Sherlock would have been the corners of it, the foundations of it, what made it whole, what gave a start to get the rest of the puzzle.

He would have corrected me with hundreds of better metaphors if he could hear me, I really suck at this. He never did, though.

In fact, most of his talking contained metaphors, it was his signature, his day couldn’t feel right if he wouldn’t tell at least one.Now the whole ‘no day without a metaphor is a bad day’ is falling on us, and nothing or no one will make that feeling go away.

It’s strange, and funny that he managed to create all of those special feelings, memories, that we only felt with him. Sherlock’s had quite the special part in our lives. He changed our lives in such a spectacular way, and to be honest, life felt less depressing, even if our job is full of dead people and mysteries that make our sleep schedule non-existent, quite rare.

He made us forget all of that shit, whenever he could. That’s why I looked up to him, and thought about him so much. Whenever I had a problem, I’d call him first. Of course, I did call John, and Mycroft, but Sherlock was like my emergency contact, he’d always pick up, if possible.

Somehow, he always knew the answers to everything, and when he was clueless (which only happened twice, in five years)- he'd attempt to find something close to it, and even if his explanations didn’t solve anything, I didn’t care.

It probably made him sort of happy to explain it, share his big knowledge, so as long as he enjoyed himself, that was enough. I did hope he did enjoy himself, I never thought about asking and now that I think about it, I probably should have, it’s too late now.

If he can hear me, a sign would be great, probably. A good thing if he enjoyed talking, and a bad one if I annoyed him? It’d be nice to know even if he probably won’t answer, he must still be working; I know it.

He would be bored if he didn’t have his face in newspapers and whatever case. I always said Sherlock not to overwork, but he never listened. I hope he’s not doing it right now, that man was a total workaholic, right to his last breath, he never stopped.

I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

He deserves peace, enough things happened to him, he almost died a couple times, almost lost us if we hadn’t survived all of the wounds and things that happened, almost lost himself because of depression- all of these could have killed him.

He would have stayed alive, but he would have died inside, I just know it even if he didn’t show it much. But he did feel, he did have feelings.

I know he liked us a lot, even though he didn’t show it much; he did enjoy living even with all of the problems he had so, let’s hope he’s not in pain, stressing, suffering, whatever feeling that makes him feel bad.

You can take it easy now, we’re taking care of what you couldn’t finish for you, we’re taking care of the legacy you couldn’t pursue for you, we’ve got your back, Holmes. John, Mycroft, myself, and whatever person you know will tell you everything that happens so you don’t miss anything. You’ll be able to debate about the events, you won’t miss a single thing of what’s happening.

Even if I have my pride, and don’t want to admit I’m depressed about you being dead, I’ll tell you everything, I know you’d be here to tell me how to deal with the death of a person, the whole five stages of grief. You said them to me so much that I always have them in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I’d say that I’m at the last phase, but a lot of anger comes in it. I still wish it had been me, sometimes. It’s not fair it happened to Sherlock. I just hope he’s not too mad. If it had been someone else, he’d probably try to talk some sense into me, get me to tell more logical things.

If ghosts were real, I know he’d tell me to stop putting the blame on myself, even if I don’t even know why I blame myself, we don’t even know what caused him to jump from a damn building. And even if someone explains it, we won’t know if it’s real no matter how much they’ll prove it’s the truth.

The only person that can tell us that is gone.

So, unless we don’t find...a diary, or a note, proving it all, we won’t know.

The last thing we’ve heard from him was an apology, the ‘note’ he left behind was the call John received, which means the presumed note I mentioned doesn’t exist, only the call does.

After leaving his note, he fell from the roof and he died on impact, his pulse was long gone when he reached the floor, and it didn’t come back. I didn’t believe all of it happened, even when I heard John telling it, none of it seemed true...until I saw the death certificate.

The whole world stopped, and it still is frozen now. I wish the grave I’m standing in front of wasn’t real, I wish that my eyes were betraying me.

If only.

“Turns out you lied, Sherlock. You left.”

I hate you for what you did.

“You could have explained all of this a bit more. Even if I would have preferred not to, I would have prevented you from dying if you gave me a note...before.”

I wish I had known, I should have known. He didn’t have to die, he wasn’t supposed to die, certainly not like that.

Not now, that wasn’t his time. He was supposed to die of old age because of natural reasons, after all of us. Outlive us all.

Damn Sherlock Holmes wasn’t supposed to die at 35 years old. It's too young, too soon, Too much to bear.

“What am I supposed to do now, I mean- what are we all supposed to do? None of us can replace you, we’ll take twice the amount of time you barely took to resolve cases on our own, you left us in a really bad situation, you know that? It’s not going to be the same if you’re not here with us.”

And I miss you like a little kid.

“You could have made us take classes to become a close version of you, at least. I’m saying ‘close’ because no one will ever be like you. Not even that detective that had 30 years of experience, he wasn’t even close, really. I’d say he looked like a newbie, next to you.”

I even started to lose the habit of calling him when he’s not directly on the field and I hate this. I’ve only known him for a couple of years, and yet, he’s going to be ironed in my mind for a lifetime.

That man, I swear.

He didn’t think that sticking so close to us, getting to know us, sharing things about him would affect us so badly now that he’s gone. Real gone.

It hurts to say that, I wish I could just pretend he wasn’t gone, but that’s not really...healthy? It’s not really healthy in the way that if I pretend he’s still there- while he’s six feet under ground would drive me crazy, it’d completely destroy the whole ‘acceptance phase’ I’ve been working on. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.

That’s what my brain has to acknowledge, pretending he’s alive wouldn’t do any good.

Sometimes life gets to an end, and we have to accept that. I know that Sherlock, his brother and even John wouldn’t want to see me like this- ignoring reality, building a fake world to protect me from the real one.

Hurting sucks. Getting reminded that I won’t be seeing him anymore sucks, but everything sucks in life, and that’s what happens when you live. You can’t have a perfect happy life with all the shitty problems, that doesn’t exist.

But even if this sucks, I also get to remember all of the great things Sherlock has accomplished, the hundreds of memories we’ve made all together, whatever makes me happy- but there’s still a lot of hurt to go through before being able to think about them without crying because I miss them.

I wish that could be happening right now, I must have filled an entire bottle of water with all my tears. It’s even worse when that happens at 2am after you wake up from a dream about them.

Speaking of dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many dreams with him compared to when he was alive. It’s as if he's haunting me, and even if I like him, I’d wish he wouldn’t do that so often, a little peace and quiet would be nice, even if I don’t want that to stop.

I’m afraid I’ll forget Sherlock if I stop thinking about him, block the memories to prevent me from the hurt that comes with it. I don’t want that to happen, he doesn’t deserve to have his legacy ignored because of my stupid feelings that hurt, he deserves to have his legacy remembered, discussed about, shared, not to have it trapped in newspapers, or in a corner of my head.

I like to imagine him being proud when I do that, even if I wouldn’t have known he was. He wasn’t the expressive kind, but he liked to show he was proud of you through a facial expression, a word, whatever could be ‘decrypted’. He wasn’t as cold as people saw him, he was extremely kind, even if he was broken in millions of pieces inside.

But yet, he overcame everything and came back even stronger. Every single time. He was amazing in so many ways, and that’s why I wish I could be like him.

So much.

I sighed, adjusting the grip I had on my umbrella, as I squatted down in front of his grave. “Did you know we went through your closet yesterday? There’s really not a lot, your clothes are so...similar. We can easily buy the same to be ‘like you’. But I don’t want to touch them, they’re kind of like precious pieces you can find in a museum.”

I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy because of that.

“And...yeah, we went through your place because we can’t bring ourselves to sell it, I don’t want someone else to live in there and ruin it with their own belongings. But at the same time, living in it would be weird, I don’t know. I can’t find an explanation, just that it’s weird, living in the apartment of a dead person. Kinda creepy.” I explained, looking up from my umbrella as I realized the rain had gone down, letting a few rays of a ‘somehow’ sun. “Look, the sun listened to me. It’s coming up so I can give my emotional speech full of hope.” I sighed. “I don’t...I don’t even know what to say anymore. Kind of ironic as I always have something to say.”

I actually kind of know, but I don’t want to say it.

He’s gone. No miracle will bring him back, but I’ve kept hearing John saying it, I heard him last time we came; and even though I can’t bring myself to say that, I want to so badly. That’s all I’ve been wanting to happen since you died, I don’t want anything else and I don’t care about love anymore even if you always wanted me to be happy.

You’re what made me happy, you were the definition of love. Maybe what I’ve been feeling was that but I never brought myself to admit it.

I have loved you since the first day, but you always said that whoever fell in love with you should find better as you considered yourself a forever loner, unable to feel and give love, but I know you were capable of it, if you had tried, I believed you could have done it.

“Look at me, in front of your grave, exposing the feelings I’ll never have the answer to, I don’t even know if you liked me back. You really took all your secrets to your grave, huh? What a selfish prick, you could’ve shared that, at least.” I complained.

I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that hid so much stuff, he really was a whole mystery to himself, that man.

We can’t even solve what caused you to commit suicide, we’ll probably never solve it. You were the only one that knew why, and yet he can’t just pull a miracle and live again for a few minutes as a zombie to explain. That would be of great help, even if I’d prefer he’d live again.

That’d be an awesome miracle, even better than what happens at Christmas.

“Can you do that for me, though?”

Just that, I won’t ask for anything else.

“Just one more miracle, Sherlock, for us.” I said, putting my hand on the polished surface. “...don't be dead.”

It’s too easy, you can’t be dead, Nothing can kill you. I know John, and a shit ton of people saw you fall, but...let me believe all of that isn’t true.

Just a fake accident, Do that for us. Please. We need you more than you can ever imagine, you were so important to us, you were family.

A reason to fight for, to live for.

“Don’t be, please.” I pleaded, as I got up from the ground. “I uh...I’ll be back whenever I can, okay? Work’s been crazy since you’re gone, it’s incredible. I don’t know if it’s because we don’t have your help, or because it’s always been like that.”

Probably a mix of the two, I don’t really know, it’s been complicated to think properly these days. Sherlock would be the one to help with that, usually.

“I’ll have to ask someone else, I guess.”

I still haven’t found this ‘someone else’, by the way, It’s been two years, I know. But I still haven’t found someone that can help me the way he used to.

He still remains unique after all this time.

“I’ll be on my way, then. You’re awfully quiet today, guess you’re not in the mood, so I’ll go.”

I wish I still didn’t have to say goodbye, but this is the only thing I can say when I leave.

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

|Chapter Two|

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock #lexies sherlock #sherlock holmes fanfiction

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the-starless-sky · 4 years

Text

A Day Off of Loitering and Investigation

A translation of the first chapter of Jujutsu Kaisen’s first light novel “Departing Summer and Returning Autumn” by Akutami Gege and Kitakuni Balad.

A Day Off of Loitering and Investigation

If we are talking about the few “definite things” in this modern day and age, there are only three at best.

That Mito Koumon[1] will win.

That Sazae-san[2] will air on Sunday.

And lastly, that Kugisaki Nobara’s shopping will drag on for a long time.

Because of that, when Kugisaki said, “I want to go see Ame-yoko[3],” Fushiguro had prepared himself for the outing that will surely take a long time. It would probably take around same time as when Gojou suddenly shows up on a Sunday morning and suddenly said, “Megumi, let’s go to Parque Espana[4],”.

What’s out of his prediction was that Itadori wasn’t too keen on going.

He had thought that a television-person like Itadori would show interest in famous spots like Ame-yoko, but he said:

“No, I have some place else I want to go.”

“Oh, that so. Then let’s meet up after.”

And then they all readily move on their own afterwards.

For Fushiguro who had accepted the natural fact that he would get stuck in the middle of Itadori and Kugisaki’s noisiness, it was as surprising as the fact that corbel pieces actually don’t contain that much iron.

Of course, Fushiguro also thought to make use of the situation and move alone.

He’d go home quickly - after all, he wanted to read the continuation of the book he’d bought the other day, and he also wanted to arrange his table’s drawer and his closet.

Even so, Fushiguro is a fundamentally earnest person.

A concern like: “is it alright to let Itadori, Sukuna’s host be?” kept crossing his mind no matter what.

When we’re talking about the area around Ueno and Okachimachi[5], it is a town filled with life and history.

In the hustle-bustle from the post-war market town that continued until modern day, strange ghost stories run rampant and there lies a possibility that not yet active curses are concealing themselves somewhere.

Moreover, it’s Itadori, a person whom if you let go from your sight will suddenly buy a shitty sunglasses, and who had said Tachikawa’s[6] “essentially Shinjuku”.

If Itadori, by chance, got lost and strayed until Chiyoda Ward[7], he’d just think of it as a lucky spot, and take Instagram-able photos in Masakadozuka[8].

That’s the reason why Fushiguro chose to move with Itadori, but... truth to be told, he’s very much regretting it.

“So like, Fushiguro, if you don’t have any interest in Akiba[9], why are you even coming after me?”

“Shut up, don’t think about it.”

“’Kay. I really want to go through all of Akiba at once, y’know.”

“Do you have anything you want to buy? There’s probably nothing but manga, games, and electronics there.”

“Eh, sight-seeing. Shibuya or Shinjuku is also okay, but the Akiba I saw on TV has this otherworldly feeling to it... or, more like, it gave off a theme-park kinda feel?”

“Is it?”

If you live within the metropolitan area, you probably wont feel it, but in truth Akihabara is a strange city.

The atmosphere outside the station is particularly unique. It’s filled with anime culture to the brim as a matter of course, but in any case the amount of information from the advertisements are nasty.

The overflowing signboards with smiling game characters gave the town a theme park-y impression.

If you were to give another example, then it’s the cosplayers that sometimes mix in with the tight crowd. Maids devoting themselves to attracting customers and handing out flyers. And when you think a rare foreign car is going through the streets, for some reason a giant robot’s large scale model is being transported by a truck.

Is it possible to suppress Itadori’s curiosity in such a town? Impossible.

“Darn, Fushiguro. The game centers are lining up like convenient stores.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Akiba.”

“Darn, Fushiguro. The maid-sans kept coming enthusiastically.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s Akiba.”

“Whoa! Fushiguro! Is that an ecchi game? Isn’t that a billboard for an ecchi game? Uwaah, is it okay, that kind of huge billboard... Oh no, I’m still a minor, will I get scolded?”

“Shut up!”

It’s a fundamentally noisy city, but for Fushiguro, Itadori’s three times noisier.

There’s still a few hours until the meet up with Kugisaki.

If he thought about that, Fushiguro’s head ached. Unknowing of Fushiguro’s feelings, Itadori was nonchalant, without a care in the world.

“I’m glad Fushiguro’s with me. This area’s so messy I’d get lost.

”It’s better than Shinjuku.”

“Don’t force that Tokyo-sense on me. Vending machines where you can use electronic money on every door, Pepper-kun[10] in front of shops, a city on this level’s only Tokyo, you know?”

“No, there really aren’t that much Pepper-kun.”

“In Sendai, you can only see it in ‘Man-made Onsen, Toposu’[11], you know.”

“Don’t pull out local shop names like it’s natural. Where the hell’s that?”

“In super sentou[12].”

“Pepper-kun being in super sentou feels more culturally advanced, ain’t it.”

“Well, well, well, anyways, rather than alone, being together with someone who’s knowledgeable about the area’s definitely more reassuring. I’m still not good with subways even now, after all.”

“There shouldn’t be anyone getting lost around the Yamanote-sen[13].”

“Aah, there it is, the Tokyoite-sense. Naturally coming out like that.”

“In reality, you don’t get lost that much anyways, do you. ‘Cause you went here and there day after day.”

“Ah, Fushiguro. Let’s eat kebab, kebab.”

“Continue the conversation, damn it.”

Fushiguro had felt that Itadori and Gojou’s rhythm are quite similar, but now that he’s by himself talking with only Itadori, that feeling only grew stronger.

After all, conversational catch-ball with Itadori is, at most, on the level of dodge ball. For Gojou, it’s more on the level of hitting-only golf, or a batting center[14].

Come to think of it, today he hasn’t seen Gojou in the dorms nor school. It’s up to him where he wanted to be during his day-off, but now that Fushiguro thought about it, Gojou really is a mystery.

As he thought such things, he let Itadori’s words in through his right ear and out through his left, going into his “gloss over” mode.

After all, it’s on almost the same frequency as the city’s noise, so if he’d just turn off his awareness he could just process it as part of the background, environment noise.

If he were to respond one by one, he’d just get tired. Nobody would tell him off even if he put his brain in energy-conserving mode, anyways.

By the way, speaking from the results, this action of his would end up making his anxiety worsen.

“...Ha?”

When he came to, Itadori was gone.

Fushiguro hurriedly turned his head, and he barely saw someone with red highlight on their hair going into the depths of a game center.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Playing a game. Ah, are you talking about the title?”

“No way in hell, you special grade idiot.”

After climbing to the fourth floor of the thin and vertically long building of the game center, Fushiguro finally found Itadori.

In the fighting game corner, going in deeper. Away from the areas where people who seemed super serious about gaming gathers, in the retro game corner where one credit to play starts from 50 yen, there he was, that Itadori.

Moreover, he’s sitting in front of an especially boring looking game machine.

As he pouted, he explained how he got there to Fushiguro.

“I mean, you know, it’s not realistic wasting hours of time just walking around outside, right. There are a lot of game centers, so I thought, why not.”

“At least say something before steering away to the side.”

“I did.”

“...”

As Fushiguro’s the one who had glossed over Itadori’s conversations, while feeling a little bit awkward he changed the subject.

“By the way, what’s this game?”

“No matter how you see it, it’s ‘Battle Corporation Warrior, Business Fighter’ isn’t it.”

“I won’t know it’s ‘Battle Corporation Warrior, Business Fighter’ no matter how I see it.”

“It’s also my first time seeing it so I’m not really sure, too.”

The game Itadori chose looked extraordinarily boring it’s miraculous.

It seemed like a fighting game, but the characters are mostly old men who looked like company employees, and everyone uses business suits properly that it’s hard to differentiate who’s who.

Even if it only costs 50 yen, Itadori’s resolution to spend money on this game is an amazing thing. Well, if he’s like this then guess he would eat Sukuna’s fingers, imprudently Fushiguro thought.

Without caring about such Fushiguro, Itadori seem to be running as usual.

He’s even looking for a competition.

“On the contrary, I’ll just ask you: you’re not going to play, Fushiguro? It’s a fighting game machine.”

“I don’t want to pay money for that kind of game.”

Even so, a fighting game machine is supposed to be played by fighting another person.

Moreover, to play an already-boring looking game like this alone just feels empty. No matter how much Fushiguro didn’t want to play, Itadori wanted to at least fight with him.

“What the heck, you’re running away? By the way, don’t tell me you’re actually bad at games, Fushiguro? You don’t have any confidence that you could win against me?”

“It’s not confidence I don’t have, it’s the will to play.”

“If you run away here it’d be treated as a loss by default, you know! Are you okay with that!?”

“Do what you like.”

“No, really, please! Then I’ll even pay for your share!”

“Are you serious? ...Sheesh.”

Losing to Itadori’s persistence, who’d even start to talk about paying - or, actually, Fushiguro just don’t want to see Itadori begging like that, so in the end he put in his own money and sat in front of the machine directly opposite to Itadori’s.

No matter what, a fighting game’s of course funner to play with two people.

As he felt deeply grateful for Fushiguro who’d finally relented, Itadori cheerfully started choosing his character.

“Then, I’ll go with ‘Company President Yamada’.”

“...Then I’ll go for ‘Chief Clerk Oosaki’.”

“What, youre going with him, the initial cursor character? Well, I guess he’d be easy to use, so it should fit a beginner like Fushiguro.”

“Didn’t you just say you’ve only seen this game for the first time?”

“Actually, before you got here, I managed to get to the third stage of the arcade mode.”

Anyways, finally the battle starts between the two of them.

“Eat this! The sure-win tactics I devised in fifteen minutes!”

“That’s a hell of a short training.”

Immediately after the battle starts, Itadori used the easy command, ‘Business Card Shuriken’ repeatedly.

The Chief Clerk Oosaki that Fushiguro controlled jumped up to dodge Yamada’s shurikens that comes in an equal intervals, surely approaching the latter. When one thought he’d turn to a strong kick after jumping in, he actually threw Yamada and forced him to the side, as he viciously beat the latter.

“Eh? Huh? Wait, wait, Fushiguro. Isn’t that a a command technique? That’s a command technique, right!?”

“...”

Small punch, small punch, medium kick, medium kick, and to top it off Fushiguro used the ‘overtime gauge’ he managed to fill with the hits, triggering a super special lethal move, ‘Overtime Rage Fist’.

Fushiguro scored a brilliant victory.

“What the hell!? ...Eh, Fushiguro, how could you use special moves? You’re good at this game?”

“No, the command chart is there above the screen.”

“So you’re cheating!”

“You’re actually not that good at games, aren’t you?”

“No, even I could win if I used commands! One more, one more!”

“The heck, this idiot actually put in multiple coins…”

Itadori who had battled it out with Fushiguro for around an hour, still lost in the end.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

They both go down until the first floor’s UFO Catcher corner and bought a cola from the vending machine, engulfed by a sense of emptiness.

The feeling of aftershock left after the heat and enthusiasm cools down look very visible on their faces.

“Aah... why did I even spend 1000 yen on that shitty game...”

Fushiguro looked at Itadori, who’s currently hanging his head, with eyes that look like they’re looking at an idiot.

“If you’re satisfied already, we’re going out. You can kill time in game centers, but they eat your money.”

“That’s true... ah!”

“What? Just because you found another shitty game, I’m not going to play with you anymore.”

“No, that’s not it, Fushiguro, look, look at that!”

Fushiguro reluctantly looked at the direction Itadori pointed with narrowed eyes.

And then, his eyes widened in surprise.

“...Gojou-sensei?”

“Right?”

Truly, on the other end of the two’s sight is Gojou Satoru.

Rather, the only person who would walk inside a dim-lighted game center wearing an all-black clothes with a black blindfold can’t be anyone other than Gojou Satoru - it’s hard to think of anyone else.

“Eh... wait, Fushiguro, what’s Gojou-sensei doing?”

“Isn’t that an UFO Catcher? The ones where you could get snacks from.”

“Why? Is there a person who wanted to eat snacks so much they’d go to a game center alone and play an UFO Catcher by themselves?”

“Don’t ask me, how the hell should I know?”

“Ah, and he’s even giving up!”

“That’s fast.”

As Gojou pouted in discontent, he walked towards the game center exit with swaying steps.

Well, it was a hard to understand action, but perhaps it’s normal coming from a hard to understand person. Fushiguro decided to stop thinking too deeply.

But Itadori just couldn’t do the same.

“Okay, let’s follow him.”

“How’d it come to that?”

Itadori started to follow Gojou who had exited the game center. Fushiguro immediately drank his leftover cola, threw it in the trash can, and followed afterwards.

“I mean, don’t he look like he’s on his off mode? I feel like I don’t know what he’s up to when he’s in holidays or when he’s free.”

“And?”

“Of course we’re going to tail him.”

“Don’t say that so naturally.”

“I mean, in reality, don’t you feel curious, too? Surprisingly I feel like I don’t know Gojou-sensei that well. Of course, if you don’t feel like coming then you can just wait.”

“...”

In any case, despite all the conflicts the two had, they finally decided to tail Gojou together.

Gojou is a dependable teacher and a shaman they respected, for sure.

However, from the eyes of Gojou’s students, his frivolous personality, busyness, appearing in unexpected places at unexpected time, personal history, thoughts, and range of behavior, all point out to him being a man full of mystery. The figure of him nonchalantly walking around town was something you don’t see everyday.

In sum, Fushiguro decided to follow his curiosity.

He’s probably also very mentally exhausted from playing a shitty game with Itadori.

In any case, the two of them started to search for the figure of Gojou they had lost sight of.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

Gojou was, surprisingly, easily found.

“Fushiguro, isn’t that Gojou-sensei?”

“...You’re right.”

The next thing they sighted was Gojou, walking around as he ate crepes.

Looking from the package, it’s from the rather famous crepe shop looking out the main street.

It’s one of those extra ones with cream, tiramisu, macaron, and even chocolate spray.

There it was, the figure of a 190 cm adult walking around as he ate crepes that look like the dreams of all children.

“That’s amazing, Fushiguro. It’s not something you can just do when you feel like doing it.”

“No, you won’t even think of doing it in the first place.”

“Is it some kind of a sorcery training?”

“If you can get stronger by doing that, everyone’s gonna just do it.”

As they keep a steady distance, the two of them tailed the adult chewing on crepes.

Even in the city full of wonders, Akihabara, the sight still look quite out of place.

After he finished eating the crepes, Gojou stopped still in front of a rather old looking store.

“...Vacuum tube specialty store.”

Fushiguro looked at the sign Itadori read with a dubious expression.

After thinking for a while, Gojou stepped into the jumbled-up looking shop.

“He went into a really maniac shop, didn’t he.”

A dubious-looking Fushiguro. On the other hand, Itadori tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“By the way, what is a vacuum tube? I’ve heard that name before, though.”

“It’s an electronic component. The ones you use in old radio or audio player.”

“Is Gojou-sensei an audio maniac?”

“No, he looked like someone who’d just use YouTube to listen to music, don’t he.”

“Aah, yeah, he does have that kind of image.”

As they spoke to each other, Gojou came out of the shore with a paper bag. It seems like he’d bought something.

“Oh no, we’re going to lose him!”

Itadori went after Gojou who had turned into an alley, and Fushiguro followed suit.

They were a little late and lost him for a while, but one minute hadn’t passed and they’ve already found the tall man clad in black in the middle of the crowd.

“There he is, Fushiguro. As expected, Gojou-sensei stand out a lot. He’s huge, after all.”

“He’s around 2 meters, after all.”

“He look like he’s really strong at basketball, don’t he?”

“I can’t imagine him playing basketball at all, though.”

“Relatable.”

As the two came into an agreement, they followed after Gojou’s steps.

Tailing someone while keeping a steady distance in Akihabara’s complicated streets is quite a hard labor.

Because he’s tall, Gojou’s steps are wide and he walks fast, it feels like you’re going to lose him when he drift into the crowd.

Next, Gojou went to a second hand audio shop and rummaged through the paper-jacketed analog recordings.

“Earlier you said some things, but don’t you think he’s actually an audio mania, Fushiguro?”

“No, I’m sure he’s not.”

“But he’s looking at Bach’s recordings!”

“Does he look like he has any interest in classical music? That person?”

“No, he look like he’d listen to alternative rock.”

“See? It’s definitely weird.”

For a while, Gojou rummaged through the recordings exhibited on a wagon, and after buying an old movie’s BGM collection long play record, he left the store.

As they tailed him, Fushiguro became more and more suspicious.

Fushiguro thought that perhaps it’s just them that had different images of Gojou and he’s actually a person with vintage hobbies in his private life, but soon he rethought and ended up with: “Nah, no way.”

After walking a bit unsteadily for a while, Gojou stopped in front of a store with a yellow signboard.

“Fushiguro, what’s that shop?”

“...Capsule toy. It’s the so-called gachapon[15] specialty store.”

“What? A gachapon specialty store? They exists?”

“They exist, that’s why it’s Akiba.”

“That so? Ah, sensei’s pulling a gacha.”

“I really don’t want to see the sight of a teacher I know rolling a 500 yen gacha. ...What kinda gacha is that?”

“Mushroom keychains, right? The real ones.”

“If he’s going to spend 500 yen anyway, couldn’t he just go to a supermarket and buy one?”

“You really don’t understand, huh, Fushiguro. It’s good because you can’t be sure of what you’ll get.”

“I don’t want to understand that in my life time.”

“Ah, sensei’s opening the capsule, I wonder what he got?”

“Looking at the lineup, isn’t it a poisonous mushroom? He looks really frustrated, after all.”

“Buhahahahaha, I guess you can’t eat that!!”

“No, you can’t eat mushrooms that come out of a capsule toy no matter what it is.”

Gojou unwillingly put the keychain in his pocket, and continued to loiter around.

When you thought he went to a computer store just to hold a mouse, he moved into an electronic store and tried on an electronic massager on his shoulder.

And when you thought he’d vanished, he’s suddenly inside a book store, free-reading a manga, and moved into a sideway to look at old games on wagon sale. He moved around according to his interests, wherever he wanted to go.

“...It doesn’t look like he has a specific purpose in mind.”

“Seems so.”

Itadori, now suddenly wearing a strength-measuring goggles toy, replied to Fushiguro’s muttering.

“Where the hell did you buy that?”

“In some second hand shop. I thought Gojou-sensei would be interested since he reads manga, too.”

“You’re really light on your wallet, aren’t you.”

“A man is a creature that uses their money when they think it’s the right time.”

“Was that shitty game earlier also ‘the right time’?”

“Ah, Gojou-sensei went inside a building. No, that’s wrong, I meant his ‘energy’ went inside the building!”

“You don’t have to correct yourself.”

“Oh no, we’re going to lose him. We’re following him, Fushiguro!”

“No, wait.”

“Gueh!”

As Itadori was about to step into the building, Fushiguro pulled his parka’s hood to stop him. It’s a very dangerous act, so don’t imitate him.

“You wanna kill me or something!? What’s wrong, we’re already this far in and you want to stop tailing him halfway?”

“You... don’t you see the building’s signboard?”

“Eh? ...... Eh!?”

Itadori looked up as he was told.

Reading the signboard written in a pop font, his expression turned into that of a flustered one.

――Angel Maid Cafe, “SHOW WARU☆Cupid”[16]

The rather maniac cafe located in the second floor of the building.

No, it’s not like it’s an indecent store or something. It’s an ordinary cafe with maids serving the customers, that’s all.

Even so, for normal people, it’s the kind of shop that needs a lot of courage to go in to. It’s even worse for boys in their puberty.

“...... As expected this place’s a bit... no, even for Gojou-sensei’s level, this kind of place is really surprising.”

“Hey, his aim is probably this.”

The thing Fushiguro pointed towards was a poster on the wall. It advertised something like: “Authentic French technique! Exquisite pancakes that makes even patissiers groan!”

Indeed, that could be it, Itadori also nodded in agreement.

“This is definitely his aim, for sure. How much sweets is he planning to eat, anyways?”

“When he’s busy, Gojou-sensei tend to eat more sweets like these, after all...”

“Alright, now that the mystery’s solved, let’s stop tailing him. I mean, it’s embarrassing having to go in to a place like this.”

“That’s a clever decision for you.”

“――Welcome, Masters!”

“Eh?”

A cheerful voice filled with business enthusiasm jumped out from behind them.

It was a veteran maid who had thought of them as - and admittedly they do look the part - ‘customers who are hesitating whether or not to come in to the cafe’ called them out, looking to make them the cafe’s source of income.

That’s right. Neither Itadori’s genius physical senses nor Fushiguro’s polished curse presence-sensing abilities could catch on the maid’s presence.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

‘Did I do something bad in my past life?’, Fushiguro thought.

While looking on in blank surprise, he was pulled into the maid cafe together with Itadori.

As they were brought in, they were made to wear angel wings and halo made of plastic and wire, said to ‘let them feel heaven when they’re here’. Both his outside appearance and his mental condition is dead.

On the other hand...

“For first-time customers, we recommend the Precious Set - Mellow-mellow A~” [17]

“Eh... I see. Well, I guess for the first time it’s better to just leave it up to the staff. We’ll get two of the Precious Sets. With extra melancholy.”

“Understood, Mastereincarnation☆”[18]

“Eh, what’s with that cool sounding word. Is it German?”

“It’s English☆”

“So it’s English!”

Just like that, Itadori’s already talking normally with the maid.

Naturally cheerful people... or, more like, those with party-people tendencies, and people with positive, bright vibes usually do well in places like this.

On the other hand, earnest-by-nature people like Fushiguro have the most difficulty in situations like this.

Fushiguro could feel his heart dying by the second just by looking at the fact that he’s currently sitting across Itadori, wearing a pair of angel wings and halo.

“And hey, Fushiguro, it’s about the crucial thing, but...”

“What?”

“As expected, seems like sensei’s aim was the pancake.”

“......... Yeah...”

The most important part of this investigation, Gojou, had especially sat down on the seat by the window where you can only see the neighboring building, and has since started his tea time, eating the pancake in grace.

He wore the angel cosplay very naturally as if it was his uniform, yet the way he sipped his cappuccino look like he was from a hard-boiled novel. The way he made himself ‘at home’ was in a different dimension when compared to first-time customers like Itadori and Fushiguro.

On the other hand, even taking into account the fact that Fushiguro is still a beginner, he’s almost on his limit. If he could, he’d leave this place even a second faster.

“Oi. Now that we know Gojou-sensei’s true aim, if you’re satisfied then let’s get out of here.”

“Eeh, but I ordered already.”

“Just pay for it and get out.”

“But it’s not good if the food we ordered go to waste, right?”

“...Well, that’s true, but...”

Fushiguro wanted to leave the cafe even if it meant paying for nothing, but he’s a kind person in nature, so when he’s told something like that, he just couldn’t complain.

On the other hand, his eyes that look like the deepest gulf peeking into the night, started to look duller and duller. Once again, Fushiguro attempted to turn off his awareness.

Numbness is a safety device for the living. He must protect his heart at all costs - or else, it wouldn’t be strange for a curse to be born.

It was a stark contrast to Itadori, who, despite being restless, look like he’s excited to try out an attraction in a theme park.

However, the maid cafe’s true baptism starts from here.

“Here’s Precious Set - Mellow-mellow A~”

The true form of Precious Set that one couldn’t ever guess from the menu at all is actually an ordinary looking omurice[19].

On top of the plate was a panda drawn with ketchup - and, it’s most probably a coincidence, but it look like Panda-senpai so much that Fushiguro’s heart ached.

On the empty spaces in the plate was written words like ‘Precious...! Makes me feel frazzled...!’, but the only one actually frazzled here is Fushiguro.

On the other hand, Itadori’s already completely adapted to the situation.

“Well then, I’m going to ask for Masters to add on even more melancholy on the dish~”

“What should I do to add on the melancholy?”

“Please tell me one precious, melancholic, and emotionally moving scene from your favorite anime! If you can make me feel melancholic without telling me the title, you pass~”

“Eeh. Dang, it’s kinda hard to choose. ...Ah, then that one where the main character is a boy who really admires heroes.”

“Me too, I watch that, too. It’s one of my favorites~”

“There’s this character with an inferiority complex towards his father... and then there’s the scene where he remembered that he wanted to become a hero, and he finally used the ‘left hand’ that he never used. I like that one.”

“Ah~ That’s a definitive episode, that one. But the scene choice is too cliche, so try another one!”

“Ah, then another anime. The main character lives in the ninja village. At first he got ostracized by his friends, but then he grew up and there’s this scene where he’s finally recognized as a proper ninja and got tossed up high in the air by his comrades...”

“Ah~ that’s a really emotional scene, isn’t it~”

“And the part where the teacher, who was his only ally, looked at him and got moved to tears... it’s definitely something you can’t miss.”

“Ah~ you’re going in really on point, aren’t you~”

“The part where they said, ‘Right now, there’s a hero in front of me’, right?”

“I understand, I understand so well~~~~ That’s super extra melancholic, and because I feel hit right on the heart should I add on a topping for you?”

“Ah, so it’s that kind of system?”

“It’s a 400 yen a la carte menu, ‘Melancholy Potato’ add-on~”

“Wahh, that makes no sense――! So much carbohydrate!”

“Well then, let’s say it together: Emo――i!”[20]

“Emo――i!”

In a rather messy fashion, the potato was added on on top of the plate.

It’s definitely got that ‘refrigerated food’ feel, but it seems for an a la carte it goes for 400 yen. When you’re having fun you stop caring about such things, but Fushiguro was so bothered he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but to get bothered about various things.

And when he thought so, the tip of the blade is now aimed at him.

“This Master, too, together~!”

“Come on, Fushiguro, there’s topping there, too!”

“Okay, e――moi!”

“E――moi!”

“...”

Fushiguro didn’t reply. However, the event continued.

“Well, now that we have added on the topping, let’s take a cheki[21] with the dish. Okay, come closer, come closer~”

“Eh, there’s that kind of thing in this cafe?”

“Because it’s the Preciouse Set.”

“Heeh, I don’t understand at all but I see!”

“There’s this heavenly-feel, right?

“I dunno, is there? Might be.”

“...”

“Well then, excuse me for sitting beside you~”

“Eh, aren’t you too close? I’m a bit embarrassed about these kinds of things.”

“You have to experience this kind of embarrassment to be an adult, you know~”

“Is that true?”

“Yup, it is~ Here goes, cheki☆”

“Che-cheki!”

“...”

“Thank you very much~”

“Oh darn, this is so embarrasing! Wah, my face’s so hot! It feels like I just paid off a really important thing! Am I okay? I’m still a minor!”

“Kyaa~ You’re so innocent it’s cute~ Well then, the Master over there, let’s go.”

“After all, the type of closeness is different to that of a folk dance. Fushiguro, be careful! You’ll get embarrassed! Super embarrassed!”

“Please prepare for taking the cheki~!”

“Fushiguro, it’s gonna start.”

“........................ No.”

Echoed a fragile, feeble, delicate voice like that of a dying duck.

“............ I’m......... okay......”

Fushiguro has finally reached his limits.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“Aah, I unexpectedly ate a lot. But the taste’s kind of ordinary, wasn’t it.”

“The inside of my mouth’s dried because of all the potatoes.”

Thirty minutes passed.

Fushiguro and Itadori safely got out of heaven that took 500 yen to go in to.

“Fushiguro, I got the cheki we took earlier, you want it?”

“The next time you joke like that, I’m going to jam in paprika up your nose.”

“Isn’t it just something you don’t like! No, I understand, I understand that’s the limit to your harassment!”

“There’s a temple near Kanda. We’re going to burn the photos there.”

“Does it have to be in a temple!?”

“The only thing to do to cursed pictures is burning it for offering.”

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t know you were in that much pain!”

From Itadori’s perspective, Fushiguro always looked like he’s in a bad mood, but today, once again he got a look at ‘an actually angry Fushiguro’.

Now that it’s become like this, even Itadori couldn’t get into his usual rhythm.

A bit awkwardly, he thought of how to continue the conversation as he scratched his cheek - and then finally he decided to go back to the start of everything.

“B-by the way, in the end we lost Gojou-sensei, huh.”

“Yeah, but who cares about that.”

“Wa-waah, I wonder where he went......”

“What’s this about me?”

““Uwaaaaah!?””

The person who stepped into their somewhat awkward atmosphere in a suprising timing was Gojou, appearing from behind them.

Moreover――

“Go-Gojou-sensei! Since when were you behind us...... huh? Kugisaki’s here, too? Why?”

“Don’t ‘why’ me, you ass.”

Behind Gojou, Kugisaki shows up in a bad mood... or rather, full of malice and resentment.

For Itadori, it would be that another angry classmate shows up.

“Eeh... Even Kugisaki’s in a bad mood.”

“Of course I’d be. Because you guys loitered around Gojou-sensei, we...”

“Oh, come to think of it, Gojou-sensei, is it your day off today?”

“Don’t ignore me, you!”

Sensing that Kugisaki would complain in a more assertive fashion than Fushiguro, Itadori quite bluntly changed the subject.

Although, in the end, the subject didn’t change.

“No, I’m working as usual.”

“Eh? But you ate crepes and walked around town...”

“If you’re as busy as me, you wouldn’t have time to walk around town and making rediscoveries if not as you work, y’know. I might look like that but I’m actually doing my job.”

“And that is?”

“Looking for a dungeon.”

“...... Dungeon?”

“To use a different term, I’m looking for a nice cursed spot that could be used by the first years to acquire experience. In other words, I’m doing preliminary inspection.”

“.........Yes?”

The memories from when he’d first transferred to the Curse Technical College resurfaced on the back of Itadori’s mind.

That day, they were going to sight-see Tokyo, but in the end they had to participate in a curse exorcism recreation in an abandoned building.

Gojou continued indifferently.

“That maid cafe’s neighboring building’s mostly empty of tenants, but a strange rumor seems to have shown up on the internet, you see. And, because of the old record shop with quite a long history rented the place, the curse story’s credibility went up.”

“Ahh, that’s why you kept looking at the window despite there being nothing to see but the building.”

“Then, this is supposed to be a task for another day, but in a happy coincidence, the three first years are all present, so... ‘This is nice, I’ll just have them challenge it today!’, I thought.”

“Eh... eh!?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve moved around the amp abandoned in the building, played recordings like what’s written on the rumors, and other stuff to provoke the cursed spirit. So, you guys will be able to meet a very lively cursed spirit no problem!”

“......... Eeh...”

Itadori immediately moved his gaze towards Kugisaki.

He finally understood the reason for her face full of resentment.

In contrast, Fushiguro looked sharp and firm.

“Alright, we’re going.”

“Wh-why are you so eager!?”

“I feel much better doing this than going to a game center or a maid cafe.”

“Eh, what, you guys went to a maid cafe? Forget Itadori, but you too, Fushiguro? You look composed but you’re actually a lecher, huh, all of you!”

“It was inevitable.”

“What do you mean, forget about me!?”

“Who cares, let’s go.”

“That’s why I’m asking, why are you already in battle mode, Fushiguro!?”

“’Cause Megumi didn’t get the chance to show his abilities in the abandoned building the other day, he’s still all about it.”

“I’m not all about that.”

“No, your face clearly looks like you’re all about it.”

“You’re actually the type to hold a grudge for a long time, aren’t you.”

“Well then everyone, be careful on the way. I’m going to go eat age-manjuu[16].”

“You’re still going to eat!?”

“Let’s just go.”

“Don’t ‘let’s go’ me! Shit, good bye, my day off――――!”

“My Ame-yoko―――!”

From a day off gone wrong, being able to get in touch with a shaman’s ‘usual atmosphere’ helped Fushiguro recover quite a bit.

On the other hand, there are Itadori who had his satisfying holiday cut off, and Kugisaki who’d missed eating Ame-yoko’s specialty, Hyakka-en’s fruits[22].

Gojou saw off the three, noisily heading to exorcise the cursed spirit, with his usual light smile.

“Hm?”

Something fell off from Itadori’s pocket. What is it? Gojou tilted his head in question as he picked it up.

And the next moment, he burst into a laugh.

“Mm, hahahahahahahahahaha!”

Gojou couldn’t stop laughing as the image leapt into his sight.

“Ku, kukuku......... Aren’t they actually having the time of their life, those youngsters.”

80% of his smile was due to the strangeness.

20% of it was due to the pleasantness.

It was said that for some time, Gojou laughed with the picture of Itadori and Fushiguro with a maid wearing angel wings in hand.

Megumi-sama ♥ ♥ Please come again!!

Notes

(p.s. I'm not very sure about some of these, please do tell me if I got anything wrong.)

[1] Mito Koumon is the titular character (also a real person, his other name is Tokugawa Mitsukuni) of a period drama. Each episode always end with Mito Koumon, in a disguise, winning in a brawl against bad guys.

[2] Sazae-san is the name of an anime that has aired every Sunday since 1946 in Japan.

[3] Ame-yoko is an area in Tokyo famous for its shopping districts.

[4] Parque Espana is a Spanish theme park in Japan.

[5] Ueno and Okachimachi is also area in Tokyo.

[6] Tachikawa is a town in Okachimachi.

[7] Chiyoda ward is a special ward located in central Tokyo.

[8] Masakadozuka is the tomb of a beheaded hero.

[9] Akiba is the short term for Akihabara.

[10] Pepper-kun is a really famous robot from Japan.

[11] Onsen is a hot spring.

[12] Super sentou: sentou means a public bath, but in super sentou they have much more facilities than a simple bath, like sweets shops, terrace, and rest areas.

[13] Yamanote-sen is a railway loop line in Tokyo. It goes through famous places like Shibuya, Shinjuku, and Ikebukuro.

[14] It's a place with a ball machine (like Mechamaru during the baseball event) that you use to just... hit balls with a bat.

[15] That small machine you put in money and roll to get some surprises. Some of them are really expensive...

[16] SHOW悪 is, I think, a pun on 性悪 (shouwaru) = ill-natured.

[17] 尊みセット・エモエモ A. I'm not sure how to translate this (this whole maid cafe sequence is giving me a headache), but 尊い (toutoi) means precious. It's usually an otaku language when one talks about their favorite characters. エモ (emo or emoi) means emotional or melancholic. It's also usually used as an otaku language.

[18] かしこまリィンカネーション☆　= Understood-reincarnation. How am I supposed to make this work.

[19] Omelette rice.

[20] I give up. It's emoi. It's just emoi.

[21] Cheki is those polaroid pictures you take with idols, usually.

[22] Hyakka-en is a fruit store that's apparently very famous. Kind of expensive (but fruits are expensive in general in Japan), and for older fruits they chop it up and place it on a stick.

Honestly the novel is a treasure chest full of cute moments and amazing characterization information. I really love it - it’s probably my best buy. If you love Jujutsu Kaisen, you should really buy the book!

By the way, they’re going to release a second light novel soon.

#jujutsu kaisen #translation #light novel translation #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuuji #kugisaki nobara #gojou satoru

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whispersafterdusk · 3 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 16

It was hard to take his eyes off the contraption attached to his wrist.

The Hi-Def was a tiny computer that was held to him with a comfortable canvas and leather wristband; the screen was two inches square, sleek and shiny, and edged with a polished steel casing. The device had two small buttons on one side but, as Eli was demonstrating, the majority of the computer's functions were controlled either by touching the screen, poking at the hard light projection that came from the screen, or using voice commands. So far the only button function he knew how to set whether the device operated exclusively with screen-touched commands, hard light commands, voice only, or any combination of any of them; that had been the first thing Eli had taught them, even before they'd finished the elevator ride down.

They were now all gathered within the facility, standing together around a computer console on what they considered the "ground" floor (which was the bottom-most floor the main access elevator could reach) and on the monitor was a larger image of the Hi-Def's screen. Eli was frequently switching between projecting out of her own Hi-Def and using the computer monitor, depending on what she was instructing them to do - it was a lot easier for them to see on the larger monitor than it was in the projection without crowding one another. ((Continued below cut))

"So here," Eli said, gesturing with her free hand at the monitor, "is the communications panel. You can set up a quick-response voice command to open it without needing to manually navigate here in the same area for all the other voice commands I showed you earlier. It's fairly self explanatory on this landing page -- you can see the list of Hi-Defs in range here. I've already programmed in the "names" of your Hi-Defs, using your names, to make it easier."

Asher looked down the list and could see his name along with Eli, Arlo, Sam, Remington, Adam, Mali, and Gale's name was there as well (though Gale wasn't presently in the room with them - his name was outlined in bright red). There seemed to be loads more empty spaces left but he knew Eli had only made nine of these so far...she must have thought ahead and programmed with the intent of making more in the future. Neat.

"I've set it so, by default, it'll always broadcast to all Hi-Defs within range. If or when I ever add more to the network I'll start programming in some set group defaults but for now we don't need that." Eli turned away from the screen briefly and rapidly navigated to the communication page on her own Hi-Def, then set it to project into the air in front of her. "If you aren't wanting to talk to everyone all at once you can select a specific person or group from the default list, or create your own personalized groups of people -- and, like everything else, you can set up voice commands to get here quicker. Anyway..."

He watched as she reached out and "tapped" (it was so weird to be tapping on light that was solid...) Arlo's and Sam's name, which highlighted them in a bright green.

"So I've got my recipients selected," Eli said, smiling a bit as they turned toward Sam and Arlo - her voice was coming out of their Hi-Defs now (it was a weird effect hearing her from multiple places at once). "All you have to do then is just talk. It's pretty decent at picking up your voice even if your hand is down at your side as well as filtering out background noise but there's still a chance other things might be heard through it so be mindful of that. You can adjust your incoming and outgoing volumes here-" she indicated a double pair of up and down arrows, "-and there's an element of proximity when it comes to outgoing broadcasts." She raised her wrist to her mouth then. "If you need to be very quiet, for example," she went on in a bare whisper, "just get it closer to your face if you can."

Asher couldn't hear the words coming from her lips but could hear her clear as day coming through on Arlo and Sam's Hi-Defs - a whisper that was coming through at a normal volume.

Eli then reached out to tap Arlo's and Sam's names again, returning them to the dull tan color they'd been before she'd selected them, then demonstrated sliding both incoming and outgoing volumes down to zero. "If a Hi-Def is out of range the name will be in red and if you try to select it it'll give you its best estimate as to how far away you are from being in range. This will be based on the last time you WERE in range, so it's not going to be completely accurate -- normally these would be tethered to a satellite and could give you measurements down to the inch but we're in short supply of those. One thing to keep in mind for the future is even if we get all the signal towers up there may still be areas where you're considered out of range because the signal can't reach. Places like being in deep valleys or underground, or if you're somewhere there's a lot of metal or 'things' between you and the towers like trees, dirt, concrete... Again, wouldn't be much of a problem if we had satellite support too but we'll have to make do."

"Can these be accidentally turned on?" Asher asked. He waggled his wrist slightly. "I'm not going to start broadcasting my snoring if it turns on while I'm asleep?"

Eli shook her head. "Accidentally? No. It can detect heart and respiration rates so if you hit a certain threshold it'll assume you're asleep or unconscious and will disable all outgoing broadcasts and turn on a tracking indicator. If I NEED to I can turn the outgoing back on from here-" she patted a hand on the computer console "-so we can get audio of your surroundings, assuming you're within range. Incoming broadcasts won't be muted if you're asleep or unresponsive however."

"Neat. Can we set up alarms on this thing?"

"You mean to wake yourself up, or to alert others?"

"Both?"

Eli pointed to a spot on the projection that had a large exclamation point on it. "That there will send out a distress signal by default if you double tap on it. If you press and hold..." She jabbed it with a finger and held it there; the button flashed from red to yellow, then expanded out into a new menu that was overlaying the communication page. "It opens up this secondary menu where you can set up custom ones with your own messages and sounds. If you're looking for an alarm clock that's in the clock and calendar functions."

"Wait, you said there's a tracking indicator?" Arlo interrupted. "Even if we're asleep?"

She nodded. "Yes. There's no way for these to tell the difference between sleep and unconsciousness so a tracking indicator will turn on no matter what."

"That's...a bit weird, isn't it?" Sam asked, looking between her Hi-Def and Eli.

"Is it?" Eli asked. "I know where you all live so I already know roughly where you sleep."

"...true," Sam replied. "I guess it's not so weird when you put it that way. Does it track you any other time?"

"Not automatically, and it's not something that just anyone would've or will have access to," Eli answered. "I can, from either this computer or my Hi-Def, track any of you at any time. Normally I'd have no reason to and there were really, really, REALLY strict rules on how and when you could use the tracking function and, if we were back in my time, you could be thrown in prison if you were found to have misused or abused access to it. It's meant to be a safety feature - if someone goes missing or silent unexpectedly I can look to see where you are and if need be we can head out to do a rescue."

"So not everyone will have access to the tracking thing but will WE have access?" Asher asked, gesturing to everyone standing about. "It's not much use if you're the only one who can and you're the one who goes missing."

"I'm giving you all permission to do so but only from here," Eli said, patting the top of the computer. "It's another security thing - if someone takes you out and gets your Hi-Def we wouldn't want them figuring out how to track the rest of us - which is also why I want you all to definitely set up the voice lock command like I showed you. That'll minimize the risk even further."

"Could Paulina do the tracking if asked?" Sam asked then.

Ha...Paulina. Pauline's successor, in a way. Technically Paulina was an altered copy of Pauline that didn't need a name (because it wasn't a living AI) but they'd all agreed to renaming the working console just so they could refer to it and have everyone know exactly what was being discussed. Paulina ran both the computer as well as all of their Hi-Defs - one big copy of Pauline and nine more tiny ones.

"Yes, and no," Eli finally replied. "I'd have to program her to be able to do that. As of right now no, that's not something I have her set up to do because of all the variables that would have to go in to it. She SHOULD, in theory, be able to do it just fine since Pauline tracked people within the facility but there'd be a difference between the check point sensors and signal towers that -- well. I'm not going to get into the technical aspect. Let's just leave it at 'yes, possibly' for now."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam nodding, looking satisfied with that answer; he looked up again as Eli turned back to the computer.

"A couple other things here - this button will mute your outgoing, double tap it to quickly mute both incoming and outgoing, and then double tap it again to unmute them. This one here opens the menu to set up your own communication groups. Press, hold, drag and drop, then hit the title bar here and either verbally or manually name it. When you do that it'll appear here..."

Asher watched as she backed out of the new menu and landed back on the main communication page, then she gestured at a smaller button that had what looked like a capital V on it; when she poked at it another menu opened and it had blank text fields on it that looked identical to the ones on the main page.

"This is where your created groups will be stored - like with individuals you can set up quick or verbal commands to broadcast to a group." She let them all get a good look at it then closed it, and then quickly flipped all the way back to the main screen of the Hi-Def. "That's all for now - don't want to overload you all with information. Feel free to play around with it, there's nothing you can do to these that I can't reverse."

Remington tapped a few fingers against his screen. "How sturdy are these things? I'm worried I'll scratch or break it somehow."

Eli chuckled. "You'll probably break the casing its in before you actually damage the screen. I don't have access to the alloys the casings were originally made out of so they're not quite as indestructible as they used to be. -- but don't get me wrong, breaking them IS a possibility, just not a very high one. You don't need to treat them like spun glass but also don't be using them as hammers or whatever - just wear them normally like you would any other article of clothing and you'll be fine." As she spoke she set the computer into a stand-by mode; the screen went black but not the dark black that indicated it was powered off entirely - that had been another concept to get used to...a "black" that still put out light.

"So...how do we start mapping Portia?" Asher asked after a pause. "This thing has some sort of scanning function, right?"

She nodded at him. "It does but we're not going to worry about that right now. We only have two signal towers up at the moment - the one here attached to the elevator platform that's interfacing with the working sensors in the facility and one that Selene attached to the schoolhouse's roof that currently is too far away to communicate with anything here but will still work if YOU all are within its range. Until we get the other towers up and figure out how to power them you'll be relying only on your onboard storage and, when it comes to mapping, that's not going to count for much because the data that generates the maps -- ...ok, again, not going to get technical, but suffice it to say that it won't be possible until we get the entire thing up and running."

"Gotcha," he replied. Honestly he was most looking forward to the mapping part...it'd give him an excuse to pick a direction and start walking during those times he wasn't on guard duty.

Asher had been born in Ethea and raised in Highwind; in a few ways Portia reminded him of Highwind - of home - so he assumed that was probably why he liked it here so much, and why he was itching to go poke around. All the wide open spaces, the beach access and harbor, the neighboring desert...all of it was something he'd been hoping he'd get a chance to fully explore before he had to go back to the Pigs's headquarters in Lucien. Now that he was carrying a Hi-Def it seemed like he had a really good reason to stick around even longer - once he'd helped get this spy problem under control he'd then be free to help map out Portia and the surrounding region, and then if these things got expanded across the continent...

Eh, well. He shouldn't get ahead of himself. The only reason he even had one was because Eli had the parts to build it; they could cover the continent in the needed signal towers but that wouldn't make more Hi-Defs appear out of thin air. And if expansion was out of the question then he probably wouldn't get to take his Hi-Def out of Portia -- and even if he wanted to keep it and leave there'd be zero reason to since all the useful stuff he was excited over wouldn't work once out of range of the signal towers.

He tapped his screen to turn it off and looked around; the others were fiddling with their Hi-Defs and Eli was still sitting on a stool next to the main computer console - she didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone or anything in particular at the moment though she had one hand resting idly across her own Hi-Def's screen.

After a few breaths she looked up suddenly and met his eye - must have sensed he was looking at her, or something. "When do you think the rest of the towers will be up?" he asked.

She took a moment to consider, then shrugged. "Hard telling. Selene is having to make molds and cast some parts, then we'll have to test strength and durability. We could technically make do in the short term but we can't guarantee we can dig up the right parts forever. And I'd rather not have to dismantle a ton of things," she added after a moment, waving a hand around herself to indicate the facility. "I'd like to...actually utilize this place. Don't know what for just yet but..." She fell silent then offered up another shrug. "We were always taught to use whatever we had at hand if things went south...I'm as far south as someone can get but it feels like tearing my own house down. I want to keep this place standing - find a reason to bring life back to it."

"Maybe as a school?" Remington offered, without looking up from his Hi-Def.

"Nah. We're moving Stewart to the clinic, remember?"

Now Remington did look up. "I remembered, yeah, but medical stuff isn't the only thing folks could learn."

Asher looked between the two of them as they spoke and was able to watch the slow progression of Eli's expression from confusion to a guarded curiosity.

"What do you mean?" she went on finally.

"Well..." Remington started, drawing out the word as he closed all the menus he was perusing. "You're teaching all of us some ranger things, and fitness and strength training. And you know all about the Old World since you lived in it. I bet people would flock from all over the continent to meet and learn from you."

Eli's expression went neutral. "True. But I'm not exactly a school teacher. I'm a soldier, and I imagine your church would have more than a few things to say about my teaching anyone on a large scale."

"They don't hold any authority within Portia or the rest of the Free Cities," Arlo said into the brief pause that followed. "They can hold all the opinions they want but they'd be inviting a lot of trouble if they tried directly interfering in a town's business or with their citizens."

Eli shrugged again. "Even still, I'd rather not kick the proverbial hornet's nest. Just because they don't have authority doesn't mean they can't or won't try something, whether that "something" is them riling up the populace against me or directly taking action to remove me from the picture - which is what would have happened in my time, and often did if someone was trying to incite something without regard to the laws."

Asher clenched his jaw at that last part; the Church Enforcers were a...particular lot. They traveled around and destroyed relics they deemed dangerous (which usually meant ANY relic they could get their hands on) and had been known to get into conflicts with civilians on the regular. The conflicts were violent at times but not usually fatal on either side; he couldn't think of any accidental deaths that had happened within recent years but could see the potential for them if the Church thought Eli, her knowledge, and anyone she shared that knowledge with was a threat. If similar had happened even back in Eli's time when, as history detailed, the world had been living in what amounted to a utopia...guess humans really hadn't changed much in three hundred years.

"Yeah, well, we just make sure that doesn't happen," Asher found himself saying, and then immediately stopped as all eyes shifted to him. He'd...not actually intended to say that out loud since it was only a half-formed thought but too late now. "Not...not that I'm suggesting we pick a fight with the Church or anything. Or have a gaggle of body guards following Eli around-"

Eli snorted. "By the Three I'd hope not."

He grinned at that. "-BUT, what we CAN do is take some steps to make sure a confrontation doesn't happen, or doesn't have a reason to happen. That means keeping people away from places they don't belong - which is something we do now anyway - and also not turning a blind eye to churchfolks who like to make up stories about things or people. I know Arlo's dealt with that here already," he added after a breath, looking to the man.

Arlo in turn nodded and crossed his arms. "I have. Thankfully Lee understood early on exactly where Gale and the Civil Corps stood on the topic -- the few things he spread around were squashed quickly and, to my knowledge, he's back to his usual sermons without 'embellishing' them."

Asher looked back to Eli. "Yeah, that - squash the lies, and just be careful about things - Portia might have opened all her other ruins for exploring but there's a lot of them across the continent that're closed, period, because they're too fragile, dangerous, or too many people rely on whatever's in them to be fairly distributed. It'd be up to Portia to set rules on who gets to come in here and why but if you end up turning this place into something everyone can use then we'd know who's here and for what reason, and anyone without a good reason can be shown the door. An Enforcer is going to stick out like a sore thumb if they come anywhere near Portia anyway. And the Church HAS come around on stuff like water filtration, powered tools, electric generating gadgets...they're definitely trigger happy on everything they come across but even they can be made to see the benefit to things eventually."

"And besides," Sam picked up, "it's not like the enforcers are assassins or anything. At most they can arrest people in the regions they have jurisdiction in, and at best they get arrested themselves for causing problems."

Adam grunted. "Threat of jail hasn't stopped 'em from arresting in places they don't have power in. There's a lot of bullhonk out in the world that you lot don't see in a town like this. They're not friendly."

"They're NOT murderers though," Asher interrupted, shooting Adam an annoyed look. "But accidents do happen when they get a bit...overeager in their work and yeah, sometimes they do try to step out of bounds if they feel threatened or justified."

Eli looked between the two Pigs. "I think we need to have a chat on what these enforcers are, what they do, and what they're SUPPOSED to do. Are they reigned in by law at all?"

"Of course. Doesn't mean they stick to it," Adam answered. "Same as anyone."

Mali shook her head and gestured for Asher and Adam to quiet. "WE," she said, gesturing to the Pigs, "would be happy to discuss the politics and laws of the wider world. Whenever you'd like to just let us know."

Eli nodded. "I appreciate it. I'll be busy this afternoon so maybe later tonight, or even tomorrow."

Asher could see her glance over to Arlo and give him a barely perceptible nod; guess whatever she was up to this afternoon included him, or the Civil Corps, or both. After another pause in the conversation Eli stood up and again invited them all to play around with their Hi-Defs, reminded them to set their voice locks, then headed out of the room with Arlo following along a few moments later.

For one brief moment he contemplated following them; everyone else had their attentions back on their Hi-Defs so he doubted they'd even notice if he slipped out. But, it was pretty clear, when neither Remington or Sam moved to leave, that whatever Eli's plans were for the afternoon they included Arlo and just Arlo...if others were welcome she probably would have said something. He looked around at everyone again -- whether he followed Eli and Arlo or not he did know he wanted to get back out on the surface and into fresh air; the Research Center, with Stewart's help, had fully repaired the air system down here so he logically knew that fresh air was always circulating but it didn't stop the feelings of mild claustrophobia and stuffiness he got when he was down here for awhile. He'd give Arlo and Eli time to get back to the surface then would head that way himself and tuck himself into a quiet corner of the tent while he fiddled with the Hi-Def.

Asher flipped through the screens back to communication and sorted Mali and Adam into a separate group he labeled "Flying Pigs," and then slid all three of the Civil Corps members into their own group as well. Setting up the voice commands were easy ("call Pigs" and "call Civil" respectively, since Eli had suggested "call" as a command word to use) and then he found his fingers hovering over Arlo and Eli's names; after a moment to consider he slid the two of them into another custom group.

Adam and Mali might be his fellow Pigs but he wasn't especially close to either of them - before now he'd not even had a chance to talk to them much since they were always doing their own things; he was closer to Greg than he was to anyone else in the Flying Pigs but only because they'd shared a bunk room at headquarters up until Greg got married and moved in to a house with his wife. Arlo reminded him of Greg in a lot of ways and, despite having watched him fail the entry exam multiple times, Asher was still convinced that Arlo would make it eventually and was looking forward to being there when he finally did (and hey - he hadn't had a bunk mate since Greg moved out and Arlo would be expected to spend his first two years living at headquarters as a rule).

And, when it came to Eli... Well.

He titled their group "Buds" but held off on setting up a voice command. For now.

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

"Hey you!"

Harrison took a moment to reply (he hated being interrupted mid-sentence when reading) but found himself smiling up at Lily as she leaned over his pile of books.

"Hello there - I didn't hear you come in."

She giggled and patted a hand on top of what was basically a barricade of reading material lined up along the outer edge of the little table he studied at. "Gee, I wonder why."

He felt his face go a bit red but he laughed quietly all the same and quickly moved a few stacks of books down to the floor near his feet. "Sorry. What are you up to today?"

"I came by to ask if you had any letters or anything you'd like me to take back to Lucien."

"Back to Lucien?" he repeated. A sinking feeling hit him - she was leaving?

Lily nodded. "Uh huh. It's about time to head back home to check in with mom - I try to stay away only a couple months at a time. If I come home at regular intervals then she worries less." She paused and squinted at him, then waved her hands frantically. "But I'm coming back! I'm going to come back!" she added in a rush. "I just have to let her know I'm ok!"

"Oh," he said, letting out a loud breath. "Ok. Yes, that - that sounds like a good thing to do. Um..."

He'd had a pad of paper here somewhere... As he started sorting through the folders and remaining books on his desk Lily stood there and rocked back and forth from heels to toes, like she usually did when standing still (well, not STILL - she seemed incapable of not moving some part of her when standing around idle) and then she bent to yank something out from under a pile on the corner.

"Here you go-" she held out the writing pad to him with a grin.

"Thanks." He grabbed it and leafed through the pages inside; there was a half-completed letter in here somewhere...ah. Carefully he pulled the page free and flipped it around to show her. "I sort of do. When did you plan on heading home?"

"I'd planned on heading up to Sandrock today and catching the bus north but I can wait until tomorrow."

"I can have this done here in a few minutes if you really want to leave today."

Lily wrinkled her nose and sighed. "I don't REALLY want to leave but I have to. BUT, like I said, I'm going to come back. I even have a job lined up for when I come back, too!"

Harrison blinked at her. "Oh?" How long had she planned on leaving without mentioning anything to him...?

"Mmhmm. That old lady farmer is willing to hire me on as an extra farmhand to help with the spring planting and all the little baby animals that'll be born or hatching here soon. That'll earn me enough that I wouldn't have to worry for awhile."

"How long will you be gone?" he asked as he fished around for a pencil.

"I'll probably be back within a week." She hummed to herself for a breath, then spun on a heel to face the door. "I'll be back in a bit for that, ok?"

"All right."

Harrison watched her skip out of the clinic and huffed out a sigh. He shouldn't be too surprised or disappointed that she'd be going home but logic and sense rarely went hand in hand with... The "L" word felt a bit too much at this point but he was definitely interested in her, and she in him. It was highly unfair for him to expect her to stay here, just because he was here, without giving any thought to her own needs or obligations.

Quickly he skimmed over the letter; he'd been halfway through detailing everything he'd done so far in Portia - this wouldn't take long to finish.

Not long after Lily had left the doors opened again; Dr. Xu came in leading someone with a heavy bandage taped to their chin. Harrison paused in his letter writing and watched as Xu led the man over toward the Uplifter, and lifted the machine's dust cover while directing the man to pull over a stool.

"Would you like a hand, Dr. Xu?"

"That would be welcomed, Harrison, thank you."

He got up and came around to help the patient position the stool in front of the Uplifter. "Here, just sit here and -- yes, like that, and sit up straight. Dr. Xu will lower that part there that looks like a plate and adjust it near your face."

"And this thing'll be able to fix it?" the man asked. His voice was obviously pained and also slurred, as he didn't seem willing to move his mouth and jaw more than he had to.

"It'll close the wound and there shouldn't be any scar visible, yes," Xu answered. "Go ahead and take the bandage off while I get the last few steps completed. This will sting briefly as it starts up but will numb soon after-"

Harrison looked from the man to Dr. Xu as Xu cut off mid-sentence; the doctor was patting at the side of the machine and looking confused. "What's wrong?"

"Hmm. The manual for it isn't in its usual slot. Have you seen it?" Harrison shook his head and Xu hummed to himself. "Well. I have the steps memorized but I had wanted you to follow along in the manual as I worked."

"Perhaps it accidentally got mixed in with Phyllis's things when she moved to her new practice?"

"It's possible," Xu replied, nodding to Harrison. "When we finish here would you mind walking out there to check?"

"I need to finish something quickly before that but otherwise I don't mind at all."

Xu smiled and began to input the commands into the Uplifter's computer panel; Harrison leaned over to help the man on the stool remove the bandage, and then winced when he saw the injury -- it was a deep wound, with jagged edges, and he could see the white of bone beneath it. Once Xu had all the commands in place he settled the headpiece of the Uplifter over the man's head fully and hit the Start button.

"No talking," Xu said then. "This will take several minutes."

Harrison could see the man flinch as the machine whirred to life but afterward the man sat calmly, unmoving, as the Uplifter did its work.

Since there would be some time to kill while the machine mended the injury Harrison returned to his table and went back to his letter. Assuming there weren't any other emergencies or distractions he should have this done well before Lily came back for it.

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

"How many keys were on the keyboard I was using?"

"Fifty six. Fifty seven if the secondary power button counts."

"Good. How many birds over there?"

"Fo- no, five."

"And what are they?"

"Sounds like common house sparrows."

"Right. Cows in the field?"

"Unfair question - McDonald said one was in labor."

"Assume the calf hasn't made an appearance yet."

"Fourteen."

"Horses?"

"Three. The rest were in the barn still."

As they walked along Eli nodded approvingly at him; these early techniques she was teaching him were hard to describe but when put into practice Arlo found they weren't so impossible as he'd initially thought.

"How far off is the Dee-Dee?"

Arlo paused; he was certain he hadn't seen or heard the Dee-Dee that ran between here and town yet but if Eli was asking, then...

All right, so maybe he shouldn't feel so confident in himself just yet.

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

Harrison's letter was safely in her pack; he'd written out his parent's address and on the back of the envelope he'd even given her a crudely drawn map of how to get there from Lucien's town square.

It was going to be a really simple matter to find his family.

The bus had dropped her off at the stop just outside of Lucien's border; a group had gotten off with her and as they all filed through the little turnstile to get off the platform Lily tried to tamp down her irritation at being jostled by all the careless people around her.

And then finally she was out into the night, and free. No one in the near vicinity, and no one paying any attention to her when she passed.

There was a run down shed on the northern side of Lucien that held old, rusted gardening equipment. The padlock looked equally as rusted but she knew that was just for looks; her key turned soundlessly in it and, after making sure no one was around, she slipped inside and picked her way among the clutter until she came to an empty workbench with a heavy burlap rug pinned underneath the bench's front two legs. She flipped the rug aside to reveal a trap door and used a second key to open it before sliding down the ladder and into a cramped, barely lit tunnel that led to a considerably more comfortable room with padded chairs, a few bunk beds, and a tiny kitchenette.

Normally there would be three or four people here, waiting; tonight there was only one - a dark haired man, short and squat, with a ruddy complexion and face dotted with pimples and acne scars. He was listening to a small radio and when Lily stepped into the room he spun around with one hand going for a gun holstered at his side. When he finally registered who she was he visibly calmed, then an instant later growled at her angrily.

"What are YOU doing here? Captain Xan didn't-"

"Shut up," Lily snapped. She stomped in and yanked Harrison's letter out of her pack before letting the bag drop to the floor. "Through sheer dumb luck I stumbled on something that we can't pass up. Call him down here."

Grunting and puffing the fat man got up out of his chair and shoved passed her to go back up the tunnel she'd just come from. Lily yanked the envelope open, took the letter out and flattened it across a table, then carefully opened the envelope's seams so it too could lay flat.

She waited longer than she wanted to but soon the scarred man came back, huffing and puffing and with his face even redder with exertion; behind him trailed a rail-thin man with a shaved head, seven piercings in his left ear, and what could be mistaken for smile lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He was dressed in old, stained clothing, and had a heavy apron tossed over one arm -- it would seem Xan was still working his cover job as a butcher over on the southern side of Lucien's market district.

"What brings you back early, Lily?" Xan asked. His tone was smooth and calm but Lily could tell by the way his jaw bulged a bit that he was gritting his teeth -- she didn't know what he'd been told by the fat messenger but it was clear he was mad at her.

"An opportunity fell into my lap," she answered. With a light touch she turned the letter and envelope with its map around to face him, then pushed it across the table toward him. "There's a doctor in Portia, with a student who sounds just like him. And that machine we've heard of exists and does exactly as rumored - I have the manual to prove it. Doctor and student are roughly the same size and height as well."

Xan's face broke into a cold smile as he gingerly picked up the envelope and studied the map; that was one thing Lily liked about Xan -- he understood her ideas and plans without her having to painstakingly spell it out for him. "Have you acted on it?"

"Not yet. I think it best if we have some bargaining chips first. I've charmed the student so it won't be odd for me to be seen in and around the clinic -- and besides, the lock on their doors as well as on the doctor's desk are ridiculously easy to pick. We can take out the doctor and force the student to replace him once we have the appropriate motivation in place for the student."

Xan nodded slowly, tapping the edge of the envelope against his lower lip as he thought; it was several minutes before the man spoke again. "We'll prepare a place to hold everyone -- we will, after all, need ready access to the doctor so we can feed information to the student, so that the illusion holds. When will the All Source be moved into the clinic?"

"That I'm not sure. I found all the information about their plans to expand the clinic but construction hasn't started yet, nor was there any hint as to when it would."

"Wait until construction is under way, then you may act," Xan ordered. "I'll send Marcus and Evangeline to back you up directly, and will have others standing by to get the All Source secured and away when the time comes. Leave the hostages to us."

"What do you want me to do in the meantime? They know someone has been keeping an eye on the facility."

"Do whatever you have to to keep your current cover intact," Xan replied. "Is the suit secured?"

Lily jerked her head toward the pack on the floor. "I need a few replacement wires - one of the Flying Pig bitches shot me in the arm."

Xan turned around toward the ruddy-faced man. "Tell Steven we need the filament wires, immediately." When the man nodded Xan turned back to her. "You've done exceptionally well -- I'll make sure you get a bonus. Take some time, rest - actually visit your mother if you so choose. Leave the suit here for Steven though."

Lily nodded. "Understood. Is anyone staying here tonight?"

"Just Howie," Xan said, gesturing toward the fat man. "-who SHOULD have already left to fetch Steven, yet here we are."

At that Howie about fell over himself to scramble from the room again; Xan let out a short chuckle that trailed into a sigh.

Lily wrinkled her nose and picked up the letter, offering it to Xan who took it and carefully folded it with the envelope. "I will go home then. I'm in no mood to share a space with an ugly idiot."

"Fair enough. Tell your mother I said, thank you for the chamomile. It made a very pleasant tea."

"I will. You know where to find me."

Wordlessly Xan nodded and turned to leave; Lily gave him plenty of time to have disappeared into the night before she too left the underground hidey hole and headed out into the evening air. Steven had repaired the suit before so she wasn't concerned about leaving it behind.

She took her time walking home and stopped at the front gate to take a steadying breath and get her mind back into "happy go lucky airhead Lily" mode. It was so exhausting to keep up that facade but knew if she didn't play the right part then her mother would ask questions she'd rather not answer.

With an inner grimace but an outward smile Lily pushed the gate open; the front windows were open to let in the night breeze and the lights were still on. "Moooooom," she called out as she walked up the path toward the front porch. "I'm hooooooome!"

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 16 #Arlo #Sam #Remington #Mali #Dr. Xu #Duvos #Lucien #My Time at Portia

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mbti-notes · 5 years

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[1] Hello, INTP here. I have a problem that seems to be related to underdeveloped Fe. For basically all my life, I feel like I can’t connect with anyone and wouldn’t miss them even if we parted ways and were to never see each other again. I know it’s egoistical, but I don’t know how to change it.

[con’t: The main problem is about my mother. She’s a person who really cares about others and misses me a lot ever since I moved out. However, I don’t reciprocate her feelings and I feel incredibly bad because of this. I grew apart from her when I was about 13 because she became emotionally manipulating and controlling because of some personal matters that spiralled into paranoia. I know she didn’t have ill intentions, but it still screwed me up and made me distance myself from her. I think this has also contributed to the problem mentioned before (at least, regarding her). The thing is, I know I should miss my parents like they miss me, but I just… don’t. My mother gets incredibly upset and starts crying whenever I tell her this, and I feel bad for doing so, but I think it would be harder and crueler for everyone in the long run to just fake emotions I don’t actually feel. I’m tired of being so emotionally numb, but I don’t know how to change it. The most surprising thing is that I’m not a cold person regarding other aspects of relationships (I’m usually genuinely kind and respecting of others, for example), only when it comes to get attached to them. Do you have any advice on how to start bonding appropriately with people? Thanks in advance.]

Yes, Fe problem, which also means Ne problem. INTPs are emotionally blank when they severely lack extraverted development. Being an Fe type means that you have to engage with the world in order to feel things, you have to push yourself outside of your comfort zones in ways that trigger (new) feelings and emotions. Inferior Fe essentially boils down to deep-seated fear of emotional life. Being existentially scared of feelings and emotions means that you don’t get to have them unless something literally forces you to have them by smacking you upside the head, therefore, many TPs perceive emotional life as being quite unpleasant and, of course, don’t want anything to do with it. Then you’re always reflexively pushing feelings away, ignoring them, downplaying them, devaluing them… until you can’t feel anymore (use it or lose it). When you can’t feel, then you’re lost, because you’ll have absolutely no idea how to care for yourself and your psychological well-being let alone others’. If only for the sake of knowing how to take care of yourself, you should want to have a healthy emotional life - that’s a big part of what it’s there for. You call yourself “egotistical”, which is kind of funny since an egotistical person only cares about themselves, yet you are actually incapable of caring for yourself.

You can’t force yourself to feel. Feelings must arise organically. However, what you do have control over is how OPEN you are to feeling feelings. If you don’t develop your extraverted functions, you have no openness, your existence is completely closed in upon itself as Ti-Si loop just stays in a self-defined “safe space”, never feeling, never impacted, never moving, never changing, never growing. Be honest, is that really where you want to exist for the rest of your life, essentially never mattering or doing anything that matters? Do you really want to live your life as though already in a coffin? Using the inferior function has a high chance of failure, so your attempts to use Fe haven’t done enough to make you understand how important relationships are to living life fully. To live life fully means that you must engage with life, and that is what Ne forces you to do. Ne is your bridge to Fe. You must open yourself up by choosing to take an interest in the world, by making commitments, by doing things that matter (through the impact that they have). The way to disarm Fe dysfunction is to develop auxiliary Ne so that you are able to think in possibilities, rather than just defaulting to the unhealthy Ti paranoia of believing that the whole world is conspiring against you. Developing Ne makes your judgment more accurate and objective by ensuring that you’ve tested your ideas properly, especially when it comes to the way that you judge people and relationships.

I can’t comment on your relationship with your mother because I can’t be sure that you’re giving me an objective view of the situation, since it’s likely that your judgments are distorted by Ti-Fe dysfunction. It could be that your mother is dysfunctional, it could be that you are, or it could be that you are both screwed up. Therefore, I can only address your side of the issue. If I had a dollar for every time an INTP complained about being “manipulated” by someone, I’d have a much nicer home to live in, it’s almost gotten to the point of sounding cliche. Dysfunctional Fe results in grossly misjudging people and social situations. Whenever I have the opportunity to hear the other side of the story, it often turns out that the other person was simply trying to show that they care, though, to be fair, they perhaps did not choose the best way. And without fail, the dysfunctional INTP always interpreted normal caring behavior as “invasion” or they might say something like “I didn’t ask you to care about me”, which is basically like shouting to the world “I don’t want to be cared about!” If you go through life not wanting people to care about you, don’t be surprised that you end up feeling alienated, since dysfunctional Fe eventually morphs into Fe grip - the voice that continuously haunts you with guilty feelings about being a “useless piece of trash”, which doesn’t bode well for your self-esteem. Perhaps you think it easy to ignore those feelings so far, but I guarantee they only get louder the longer you put off dealing with the problem. Are you resigned to this ending? Are you putting effort into a different ending for yourself?

Being in a relationship isn’t only about the other and “doing your duty” out of guilt. This is a very narrow, limiting, and one-sided way to conduct a relationship. There are two components to consider in relationships:

The Social: performing the “contractual” duties and responsibilities appropriate to your role in the relationship. Knowing obligations and carrying them out ensures that both parties benefit relatively equally; on a larger scale, this is the foundation of social stability, and everyone reaps the benefits of living in a stable and healthy society. Your role as someone’s child, sibling, friend, colleague, etc, comes with certain obligations. When people fail to carry them out, the relationship tends to become one-sided, either you take and don’t give, or you give and get nothing, which leads to resentment and unwillingness to continue with the relationship. You make the choice to commit yourself to relationships when you understand that they are necessary for good psychological well-being, and performing your duties well is good for other people’s well-being, i.e., you’re doing something that matters, which lends substance to your existence.

The Emotional: fostering the feelings and emotions that are necessary for building and maintaining a sense of connection with people. Knowing how to nurture care, love, concern, empathy, compassion, etc, ensures that everyone feels invested in the relationship and motivated to continue it. A large component of human motivation is rooted in feelings and emotions, so if your emotional life is dead, motivation to do anything becomes very hard to sustain. If there is no feeling behind the relationship, then it becomes empty, just going through the motions, eventually realizing there’s no good reason to continue. Of the INTPs I’ve spoken with, the biggest obstacle in this department is usually Si loop. They harbor many old resentments, old pain, old failures, old fears, old betrayals, etc, that they don’t want to confront and resolve (due to fear of feeling). Being unable to let go of the past means that you cannot build something new for the future. For example, it’s hard to love your mom when you’re holding old resentments against her, isn’t it?

If your relationships aren’t or haven’t been mutually beneficial and rooted in love, why not? It can’t always just be the other person’s problem. What about your side of the problem, how do you create the shortcomings? Are you able to create mutual benefit? Are you open to loving and receiving love from others? Are you capable of approaching relationships with a clean slate? I don’t know your history, so I can’t tell you the answers, it’s for you to reflect on. If you’re really having trouble digging into yourself, perhaps it’s worth working it out with a therapist.

#intp #intp relationships #si loop #fe grip #relationships #love #parent child relationship #past #ask

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

East Of Nowhere - Life, After

Sam x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Sam are strangers trapped in a desolate mountain town where you live alone, isolated from the outside world, for five years.

Warnings: language, violence, smut, talk of past trauma

Beta: ilikaicalie

Life After

“Come again?” Dean raises an eyebrow. Sam just looks across the table, chugging a bottle of water. He woke up fifteen minutes ago sprawled out in the hallway. He came to just as Dean smacked him hard across the face.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth.” Sam wants to take a moment, just a beat and try to wrap his head around the fact that he’s home, but he doesn’t have the luxury. You��re not there.

“You’re sure it wasn’t a dream, or maybe a Djinn?” Dean places his hands on the table, leaning toward his brother.

“No,” Sam runs both hands through his hair, blinking while trying to shake off layers of fatigue and exhaustion. Whatever pulled him back into the real world zapped every ounce of energy in the process. “This wasn’t like anything we’ve ever seen before. Are you sure it’s only been five months?”

“I’ve been going crazy looking for you. I think I’d know if you were gone for five years.” Dean sets a hand on his hip, the other gesturing toward Sam. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah, I feel ok. Just tired and thirsty.” Sam twists his torso, his back in knots and his shoulders sore. He feels like he got hit by a semi-truck.

“You were there with some chick?” He raises an eyebrow.

Sam sets down the empty bottle on the table and put his lips together before responding. “We’ve got to talk about some things…”

Before Sam has a chance to finish, or for Dean to respond, Dean’s cell phone rings loud in his pocket and Sam’s face goes white.

You roll your eyes behind dry eyelids, unable to determine where you are or what’s happening. All the sounds around you blur into one dull droning of blips, buzzes and muffled voices. The first noise your ears hone in on is that of the heart monitor. You know the sound well and, for a moment, you have a flash of waking up in the Shadow Hill Community Hospital.

Whole thoughts aren’t forming yet; instead it’s just base knowledge as you fight through the fog in your head.

Beep

The monitor speeds up as you struggle to open your eyes. There’s a muted chorus of voices as you sort through the commotion. You can’t put the logic of it together but you’re listening for Sam’s voice somewhere in the mix.

It’s the familiar sound of your mother that straightens out first, sharpening from mumbled sounds into crystal clear words.

“I think she’s waking up,” she sounds excited, her voice catching. “Go get the nurse.”

“Just push the button,” Your father joins in. You almost melt as his presence is confirmed.

“Can you hear me Y/N?” Your mom asks. Her question is mixed with the sensation of her hand on your arm. You know her touch. Swallowing, you muster strength, blinking both eyes open. The light burns and you groan, fluttering until you see your mom, sitting in a chair at the right side of your bed.

“Thank God,” your father exclaims taking your other hand. You turn to look at him, weakly squeezing his fingers.

“Hi,” you rasp, then cough as the words set your throat on fire.

“Don’t talk sweetheart,” your mother cries. “We’ll get you some ice chips. For fuck’s sake Clint, go get the doctor!” Even in your altered state, it’s shocking to hear her drop the F-bomb.

A lot happens all at the same time. All the events of the previous five years come back to you in a flood of memories that make your brain feel like it’s exploding inside your head. You shriek, doubling over in pain. The delivery of this remembrance is accompanied by clear thought. The onslaught of the relocation shakes you free from the trauma and the drugs. You shoot from groggy and confused to painfully alert in the snap of a finger.

Your father holds your mother while she cries as you’re surrounded by doctors and nurses. All it takes is a push of a needle into your IV and the sedation lulls you back into a dark sleep.

Twelve Hours Later

When you awake a second time, the transition is smoother than the first. Your mother hovers on the constant verge of tears as your father tries to make awkward small talk. A police detective arrives at the same time as your dinner. Nibbling on the corner of a slice of white bread, you answer a series of uncomfortable questions as your family looks on in quiet judgment.

“So you’re sure that no one held you against your will?” The officer cocks his head as his eyes drift to your parents. “Maybe we should talk alone.”

“It’s ok,” you assure him. “I was just feeling overwhelmed by - life you know? I wanted to get away and clear my head and I guess I kinda panicked. I should have called or told someone I was alright but I...I’m really sorry.”

You don’t even want to look at your parents, if they even buy your story. Which is doubtful. They’re going to be so disappointed that it might break your heart. But the truth isn’t an option. Not unless you want to be committed.

“I keep asking about this because, not only does everyone you know say this disappearing act was completely out of character, but you’re pregnant and the doctors say you’re severely malnourished. That sends up some red flags, you know? Like maybe you were in a situation where you didn’t have access to food.”

“It’s been a hard pregnancy, I’ve been sick a lot.” You run a hand over your stomach.

“You can tell the truth honey,” your mother leans forward from her perch on the windowsill. Her eyes are brimming with tears. She wants so badly for there to be a reason that you so abruptly abandoned the people who love you and you want nothing more than to give her a better answer, but there isn’t one. “You have a man’s name tattooed on your ankle, it’s practically a brand! Someone must have made you-”

“Mom,” you stop her, struggling to sit up straight. “I met a guy, I got drunk...he’s got one too. No one kidnapped me or made me do anything. I just needed to get away for awhile.”

“There’s someone here who’s very excited to see you.” You mother forces an upbeat, sing-song tone.

When Jack walks through the door, he’s a wearing a shirt similar to one of Sam’s favorites. For a split second you think that Jack is Sam, your heart swelling and sinking in the same moment. Part of you almost forgot about him. The sight of his familiar face feels like a dizzy memory from a dream.

“I can’t believe it,” he smiles sinking down on his haunches at the side of the bed. “I knew you were out there somewhere.”

“I, um, I’m sorry.” Apologizing has become your new default. Over the last twenty-four hours you’ve found yourself often without a response and ‘I’m sorry’ seems to be your only answer.

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” His hand is sweeping gently down the side of your face. You close your eyes and shift away from his touch. It doesn’t seem to phase him. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We can all move on from here. Together.”

During the time in Shadow Hill with Sam, you thought of Jack and figured he would mourn your loss and quietly go on with his life. This is clearly not the case.

“You waited five years for me?” You whisper is disbelief.

“Five months honey,” your mother pats the back of your hand.

Right. You slipped again. You and Sam talked about this. About all the scenarios of being thrown back into your old life. Sam was one who insisted you go through every possible set of events, including the fact that time might pass differently in Shadow Hill. Five years there could be five days or five decades here.

“Right,” you offer a lopsided smile, things making more sense now. “I meant five months.”

“Of course I waited,” Jack takes your hand into his, you resist the urge to immediately pull away. “I can’t tell you how relieved we all are, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m so thankful you’re both alright.” He reaches out of places a hand over your round belly. You hold your breath.

He thinks the baby is his, they all do. You look at your parents who yet again are fighting to hold back emotion. You’re almost seven months pregnant, according to this timeline you would have been two months along when you disappeared.

“Please,” you lift his hand away from your stomach, stumbling over your words. “Just don’t...don’t do that.”

“There’s nothing be afraid of,” Jack tries to sooth you. “I’m ready for this. We talked about having a family one day.”

“It’s not your baby.” You clarify, maybe a little too blunt but there’s no taking it back now.

“What are you talking about?” He tips his head, his smile waning.

“Yes,” You mother stands up, her eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what?” You’ve had enough. You’ve danced the dance for a day now, but you’re tired and exhausted. You’ve pushed Sam out of your mind because you’ve been under a microscope since you woke up, but in this moment you’re done. “I need everyone to get out of my room.”

“Just calm down sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to calm down.” You pick up the remote and hit the ‘call nurse’ button frantically. “I want to be alone.”

As soon as the door to the room clicks shut, you pick up the phone beside the bed and dial the number you’ve memorized like the back of your hand. It’s truth time.

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers. He sounds cranky, thank God. Dean, it has to be him.

“Dean?” You ask.

“Yeah, who’s this?” He snaps back. You hear Sam in the background. Your heart speeds up to a gallop, an idiotic smile spreading across your face. “Give me the damn phone!” You hear him shout.

“Sam?” you confirm, tears spilling in relief.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice is shaky. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Are you alright?” Biting your lip, you contain the urge to squeal. You’re both alive and you both remember. “I’m in the hospital.”

He ignores your question. “Why are you in the hospital? Is the baby-”

“We’re both alright. I just turned up unconscious on my parent's lawn in the middle of the night. The neighbor’s kid said he saw me fall from the sky. I don’t think anybody believes him, but I do. I’m banged up.”

“Dean found me in the hallway. I didn’t wake up until an hour ago. I’m gonna come get you, just stay where you are.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line.

“This is good right? We both remember?”

“It could be a lot worse.”

---

Sam makes the twelve hour drive in a little under ten. Dean protested, pointing out that he needed sleep and maybe a doctor but in the end he took the keys and didn’t look back.

He slips into your room just after the sun comes up. It’s still early enough that your constant stream of visitors hasn’t yet arrived. You’re sleeping soundly, mouth hanging open with a bag of saline dripping into your arm. Your face looks thin, more gaunt than he remembers. He’s grown used to seeing you nearly every moment of every day but being apart, even for forty-eight hours, gives him a new perspective. Your face should be rounder, filling out as your stomach grows. But between the lack of food and plethora of stressors during your last months in Shadow Hill, you went in the other direction. He didn’t realize exactly how much until now.

Your eyelids flutter open the moment he takes your hand, a lazy, happy smile budding at the sight of him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He squeezes your fingers, before bringing your hand to his mouth.

“I missed you,” you confide. His heart still skips when you say things like that.

“Missed you too, baby.” He kisses your knuckles, wrapping both his big hands around your small fist. “Do you feel good enough to get out here? If you need to stay, that’s fine. But people aren’t gonna stop asking questions, at least for a while. It’s probably better if you get your bearings before you start giving answers.”

“I’m good. I’ve probably already said more than I should have, but I stuck to the stuff we talked about.” You explain.

Sam stands, then leans down to kiss you. Your lips are dry as the desert but he doesn’t care. He rubs his nose into your cheek, nuzzling with a gentle press of his mouth on yours.

“What the hell is going on here?” Your father’s voice snaps you both to attention and Sam stands up straight.

“Dad,” you try to intercede, propping yourself up into a sitting position.

“It’s ok,” Sam takes a step away from you.

“I don’t know who the hell you are and frankly I don’t care, you better get away from my daughter.” Clint has always been an imposing figure but he’s larger than life when it comes to his kids. Your father radiates a ferocious protectiveness.

Sam looks to you and moves away from the bed. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You better pray you’re not the reason my little girl has been missing,” his voice hitches up an octave. You’ve only seen him cry once before. “Or be the father of that baby because I swear to God I will kill anyone who puts their hands on my daughter-”

“Daddy it’s okay, I’m alright.” You reach out for him. “Sam, I think we need a few minutes.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate, just sets his jaw and nods before leaving the room. Your father is pissed as hell at you and he’s held it back until now.

“You’re a smart girl. How is it you expect me to believe that you would just fall off the face of the earth and turn up five months later, pregnant and with a ring on your finger. Are you married to that man? Someone we’ve never met? I know you Y/N, you wouldn’t do that. Not to your mother and I.”

“Maybe old me wouldn't have, but things happened Dad.” If you had half a shot at getting through to anyone, it was him.

“Then tell me what happened.” He takes your hand just as Sam had, only he clutches it so tight it hurts.

“I can’t. Not yet anyway. You wouldn’t believe me if I did, anyhow. I know this is hard, but you have to find a way to trust me. Maybe you can’t right now, and that’s alright. But I just need a little faith. You know that I’m not influenced by anyone. What happened was unexpected, but if I had to do it all over again, I would. Sam is a good man and we love each other. I fell in love, the kind of love that you and Mom have. I can’t explain it all to you now, but what happened to me wasn’t bad.”

He’s still, looking at his feet. “You’re going with him?”

“You were listening.” You sigh, tipping your head back. “I have to go, for a while at least. Someday, I hope to tell you everything.”

“And he’ll take care of you?” A tear drops from the corner of his eyes and he wipes it away with a cough.

“Oh Dad, he already has.”

“This feels kinda like you’re saying goodbye, kiddo,” he pats your knee, looking away.

With a quivering chin, you watch his eyes close, “Probably because I am.”

The Bunker

The Bunker is depressing.

As the heavy metal door slams shut behind you, there’s a creeping sense of dread that simmers in your gut. It’s silent, deathly silent, no faint chirping of birds in the distance or sunlight streaming through a open curtain. No, Sam and his brother live in a subterranean tomb that’s a far cry from the happy home you once shared together.

“Come on.” Sam takes your hand, winding down a metal staircase as you descend into the belly of the beast. He’s described this place to you in painstaking detail, enough that you thought you’d be prepared for the reality of being here but you were wrong. It’s dark, ominous and frightening.

There’s soft music playing, getting stronger as Sam leads you down a winding hallway. Strains of Simon and Garfunkel greet you as Sam pushes a door open to a small bedroom where you find a man perched on the bed. He’s cleaning a gun, it’s metal parts disassembled and neatly laid out over his bedspread.

This must be Dean.

He looks up, pausing before wiping oily hands on a rag. He doesn’t speak, just looks from Sam to you, then to your stomach as his lip twitches. “Hey.”

Sam’s hand is at the small of your back, pushing you to take a few steps into the room. This feels wrong. You’re out of place, especially in his brother’s private space. You don’t belong here and you’ve got a sneaking suspicion all three of you know it.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is strained. “Dean, this is Y/N. Baby, this is Dean.”

Dean has a physical reaction when Sam calls you baby. He flinches as his eyes close momentarily, mouth pinching tight. You force yourself to move forward and extend a hand to him.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve been hearing about you for years, so it’s weird to finally, you know…” When Dean doesn’t move, your left standing awkwardly with your hand hanging limply in front of you. He looks from you to Sam again and shakes his head.

“Dean...” Sam fires a warning shot.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking weird.” Dean flashes a dry smile, and twists the rag in his hands. “I’m kinda in the middle of something here. Maybe we could do this later, Sam?”

“Alright.” Sam’s word choice is innocuous, but he might as well have responded with fuck you.

Sam ushers you down the hallway and swings open the door to the room you’re meant to share. Everything is cold brick and hard floors, including the metal frame of his tiny bed. He’s nervous, fidgeting as he shows you the few personal items he owns. His life is sort of...sad.

For the first time in a long time, neither of you know what to say. This is a Sam you’ve only heard about in stories. This is Sam the hunter, whose life is hard and rough and scary. A life that you don’t fit into.

They’re speaking in hushed tones, but it sounds exactly like the muted arguments your parents had at night when you were younger. Adults trying desperately to avoid innocent ears.

“I need you to do better than whatever that was.” Sam hisses.

“I’ll roll out the welcome wagon when we know for sure what she is, Sam. Until then, I’m playing this close to the chest.” Dean snorts and his fist hits something solid.

“What are you talking about? We’ve been over this-”

“No, you went over it and I told you I’m not buying it.”

“She’s not a monster, Dean, she’s just a woman.”

“Honestly,” Dean’s dry laugh gives way to naked hostility, “For her own sake, I hope you’re wrong. We can’t even keep other hunters alive and your plan is to bring a pregnant high school science teacher into the mix?”

“Dean-”

“No, I get it. You dropped off the grid and fell in love and now you’re having a frickin’ kid. Which, by the way, don’t even get me started on that. You couldn’t wrap it up? What were you thinking? And while we’re on the topic, do you even know for sure that baby is yours? What if she’s been playing you this whole time?”

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Sam’s voice interjects at full volume. “I get that you need some time to wrap your head around this, but I can’t wait around for that. I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Fine,” Dean agrees. “You let me know what you and your teacher come up with.”

Sam feels larger than life when he wraps around you in his narrow, rickety bed. You pretend to sleep, too tired to talk and maybe a little afraid of what might be said.

‘You awake?” He whispers, resting a hand on your hip. When he doesn’t get a response he sighs, pulling you back into him the way he has a thousand times before. That familiar smell and warm body lull you slowly to sleep in this strange new world.

Two Days Later

“You doin’ ok?” Dean sits across from you, with a beer and a whiskey, alternating between the two. You can tell just by the look on his face that he’s skeptical of the whole situation. Sam keeps telling you Dean gets it, that he’s on board, but it’s clear he’s just trying to placate you.

“I’m just exhausted, but other than that I’m good.” You sip the warm can of coke as the two of you try not to look at each other.

“Sam has a lot to say about you.” Dean forces the conversation.

“I bet it’s nothing compared to how much I’ve heard about you. I feel like I know you.”

“Five years is a long time to be alone together.” Dean nods soberly. “The whole thing is almost unbelievable.”

“Look, I get that you don’t really trust me.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick.” He holds his hands up. “I’m still on the fence. Sam’s gone for five months and when he comes back he’s got a ring on his finger and you’re...friggin’ pregnant. You’ll have to forgive me if I need a little time. Sam’s been through a lot. I’ve seen him get screwed over more times than I can count and until I’m a hundred percent about who, or what, you are, I gotta keep asking questions.”

“Okay.” You concede.

“Okay?” he raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“It’s pretty much what Sam said would happen.” You shrug. “‘My brother won’t trust you, it’s gonna take him a while, just gotta be patient and get to know each other.’”

“I got a lot of questions for you.”

“Go ahead.”

One Week

“Hello.” The soft voice is not one you’re familiar with. You turn around to find a man standing in the doorway. He offers a warm smile and takes a step into the room.

“Hello,” you return. There’s something about him you can’t quite put your finger on, but his presence calms you, along with the thousands of thoughts rattling around in your skull since you woke up in the hospital. Your mind narrows down to this moment, able to focus on nothing other than the unassuming person in front of you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. Sam didn’t say anyone was coming by.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. He leans toward you as if he’s letting you in on a secret. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

“What do you mean?” You should be worried, his confession should send up a red flag, but it doesn’t. Questioning your own actions you invite him in. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, I’m good. But you might want to.” There’s a glint in his eye, followed by a sigh and the exhale of someone who’s exhaustion rivals your own.

“Okay.” Despite having no intention of sitting, you find yourself seated on the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Sam interrupts your private conversation, Dean trailing behind him. They both looked pissed.

“Okay, I get it. You’re upset and you’ve got a right to be.” He responds shrugging casually.

“Does anybody wanna fill me in?” You inquire.

Sam glares, shaking his head in disgust. “This is Chuck.”

Chuck. You thought Sam was kidding or the tales he told were a metaphor...but Chuck’s really just a guy that looks vaguely like your middle school youth group leader.

“You’re God.” Despite your past misgivings, there’s no doubt in your mind that he is exactly who Sam told you about. You can feel it in your bones. “Oh my God, I mean...I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No worries.” His upbeat tone is not what you pictured from the supreme almighty.

“It’s nice of you to show up,” Dean’s disgusted. “I’ve been praying for months now and you’re nowhere to be found but suddenly you decide to grace us with your presence. Thanks.”

“You know I don’t like to interfere.”

“Why are you here?” Sam comes to stand beside you, putting himself between you and, well... God.

“I’m glad you asked,” Chuck clasps his hands together, seemingly excited. “I just had to see her in person. I mean, Sam. She really is a work of art. Beautiful, smart and loves you like the dickens.”

“What do you mean?” Sam reaches back, taking your hand.

“She’s incredibly complex. Near perfection.” He tips his head to the side, eyeing you up and down but you feel him inside you. He’s in your head and your heart, rooting around. “I really have to hand it to her. She’s right up there with Rembrandt and Chopin. Intricate, detailed, and just damaged enough to make it work. I don’t know that I could have done better myself. ”

“What. Are. You. Talking. About.” Sam grits, pulling you to your feet and tucking an arm around your waist.

“I thought you would have at least had some idea.” Chuck looks expectantly from Sam to you and back again. “My sister cooked her up. Her first real creation and she outdid herself.”

“Creation?” you whisper, feeling lightheaded.

“What the fuck are you-”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t have an inkling...” Chuck interrupts Sam. “I mean, she plucked her right out of that fantasy you used to have. You know, the dream, you remember the one you used, enjoyed...Oh no, you thought...you thought it was a premonition? ”

“Stop speaking in riddles and just tell us what’s the hell is going on.”

“Look, you know what my sister is like.”

“This was Amara?”

“She wanted to give you something.” He shrugs. “She gave Dean what he wanted most, your mother, and then she wanted to give you something too. She said she thought about Jessica, but you’re too different now. Too grown up for that to work organically, so she decided to create something, or should I say someone, just for you. ”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Dean snorts, apparently the only able to articulate any emotion.

“I am not shitting.” Chuck presents a grim smile and shrugs. “Let’s look on the bright side. She really nailed it.”

“I don’t understand.” You’re wilting into Sam but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s stoic, save for a flare of his nostrils. It’s a look you’re familiar with. He’s furious. “That doesn’t make sense. Before we woke up in that place I had a life, I had a family.”

“Well, technically you didn’t.” Chuck rolls his hand in the air letting you know he’s not finished. “It’s the beauty of what she managed to accomplish. It wasn’t just you she had to pull out of thin air, it was everything. Your family, your friends. Heck, those memories you have of your dad. I’m impressed.”

There are no words to describe how you’re feeling, but disbelief comes the closest. It’s not that you don’t trust what he’s telling you, just like everything else you know it’s true. But you can’t comprehend it.

“Why Shadow Hill? She just wanted to watch us swim around the fishbowl?” Sam spits, his arm leaving your waist as he takes a step toward God himself.

“Sam, you know as well as I do your life is pretty pathetic. She didn’t think having you meet at a singles’ bar would do the trick. She said she wanted you to have time to be with each other without all...this. She was gonna give you ten years and then zap you right back here.”

“Perfect,” Sam grunts, there’s venom in his voice.

“You said ten years,” you take a deep breath. “We were only there five and the world fell apart. There was literally fire raining down from the sky.”

“That spell the two of you cast cracked the ecosystem.”

“A crack that couldn’t be fixed so we ended up with front row seats for the end of the world?” Sam interjects. “There wasn’t even food at the end. Y/N was pregnant and terrified and I couldn’t even fucking feed her. Where was your sister? Did she get bored?”

“She used to check in on you from time to time to ensure everything was going to plan, but you caught her once. She said you saw her and she had to erase the memory. After that she was gun shy. She took a page out of my book and stayed away. Let things play out.”

He snaps his fingers and Sam can remember the night in the rain. He can see Amara slipping out the front door of the house and into the torrential rain.

“Where the fuck is she?” Sam presses. “Why isn’t she here telling us all this?”

“Because she had a very specific plan. You get ten years of domestic bliss and then you’re back here like nothing happened. You’d have been missing less than a year and life would move on.”

“Like I never existed?” you clarify.

“Exactly. If she turns up now I’m afraid she might reset things. You know I prefer to give you the choice, Sam. I’m all about free will. If you decide you want the slate wiped, I can take care of it.”

“No.” Sam squares off his shoulders and side steps between you and Chuck.

“I realize it’s a hard decision and I’m sorry.” He peaks around Sam to let you know the apology is meant for you. “You should take some time and talk it over.”

“We don’t need time.” Sam shoots back.

“It’s not just your choice Sam, there’s two other people involved. Talk about it, decide what’s best for her and your son. You can let me know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

---

“How do you feel? You know, about what he said.” Sam asks. He’s kept his distance since the revelation, but it’s been a few hours and you’re about as settled with the idea as you’re going to get.

“You mean the fact that I only exist to fill your wants and needs?” You scrunch your nose. “My inner feminist is pretty pissed.”

“You’re deflecting.” He sits on the edge of the bed, giving your thigh a squeeze.

“Because I don’t even know where to start.”

“You’re real, just as I am.” He face is strained, he’s trying but he’s off the mark.

“That’s not even the part that I’m worried about Sam! It’s the rest of it. It’s where we go from here. Are we going to have a baby and live in a bunker with your brother? If by some miracle we aren't murdered in our sleep by a monster or demon or whatever, we’re doomed to fail anyway. You’re the one who told me that the people in your life die. That you and I would never have worked in this world.”

“Things are different now.” He swallows, running a palm over the stubble of his jaw. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“You’ll die trying, Sam.” You want to shake him. “You’ll take a bullet to protect us or have a heart attack at forty from the stress of it all.”

“We can make it work,” Sam blinks, looking at the dead expression on your face. When what you’re insinuating hits him, his anger becomes palpable. “You’ve already given up.”

“I don’t want to. I love you so much and this baby, I...it’s all I want. But it’s not about what I want anymore. How can we bring a child into this? I know you Sam. You’re the guy who leaves because he thinks it’ll be better that way.”

“I won’t.” He’s hurt, and frankly, now pissed at you. “You think after everything we’ve been through, the only options we have are that I abandon you or Chuck snaps his finger and you never happened? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying to be practical.” You sputter.

“Well fuck that.” He growls. Sam stands up and looks away from you. He’s so mad that he can’t make eye contact. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to restrain himself. “I’m not leaving and you’re not going anywhere, but I’m out. No more hunting. We’ll just stay here long enough to get something else set up, somewhere safe we can start over. New names, new lives.”

“You really think you can do that? What about your brother? You just got him back.”

“Dean will make it work. We always do. I made a commitment to you in that field, do you remember that? You’re acting like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything to me Sam. I just...I hate this all so much. I just wanna go back. While we were there, all I could think about was getting out of Shadow Hill. It felt like a prison. And now… now I just want to go back where it’s you and me and nothing else.” Your voice cracks and the tears follow, running thick and wet down your cheeks. You feel his weight on the bed when he sits, then his arms as you cry into this chest.

“Do you still love me? Now that you know everything,” He asks.

His questions takes you off guard. If anything, you should be the one asking. “Of course,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Good,” he clutches you tight. “Then we will find a way.”

Three Years Later - Just outside Lunenburg, Nova Scotia

If it were up to you, you’d never leave this place.

The ocean shore lies jagged, the rocky outcrops like a torn piece of paper where they meet the rushing waves. The shore is everything at once, every sense bombarded in a way that brings your mind to elevated thought. Eyes open to every shade of blue before you, every shade from white to browns and greys for your pleasure. Eyes closed there is the cool breeze, stealing warmth, giving you the taste and smell of the brine. The ocean's faraway music takes command of your ears with crashing waves and the cries of the gulls. To the right of this little cottage home the cliff face rises sharply, graphite in the autumn sun. Between rock and wave, you sit intoxicated on the breath of mother earth, of nature and all the wonders she holds.

The front door creaks open and Sam slips out, shutting it with a carefulness usually reserved for fine china. He smiles at you, a heavy blanket swung over his shoulder and two steaming mugs of tea precariously grasped in one hand. “I defeated the beast.”

“He went down?” You scooch over, making room on the porch swing.

“It only took two baths, three books and a half hour of me making up lyrics to that Aladdin song he loves, but I did it.”

“Two baths?” You laugh.

“Well, I thought we were home free and then there was puke everywhere.”

“Sorry,” you wince. He wraps the blanket around himself before sitting and opening it for you to join him. Lying back you rest against his chest with a warm cup between both hands. “Thanks for taking over. I don’t have it in me today.”

“It’s fine, I know you’re not yet feeling a hundred percent.” He kisses the back of your head, a strong arm snaking around your belly.

“I just hope by some miracle we haven’t given it to you.” You came down with it first. It’s been a nasty flu season and you’ve spent the better part of three days sweating on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Just as you started to feel human again, Will crawled into your bed with rosy cheeks complaining about his stomach. Things devolved from there.

“It’s inevitable.” He shrugs, “It’s freezing out here, are you sure we shouldn’t go inside?”

“I like the fresh air. Besides, it’s warmer when you’re here.” You can see the ocean from the house, waves rolling white-caped in the distance. You lean your head back on his shoulder and soak in this still, perfect moment.

“This week is gonna be crazy, I’m having to work late every night since we’re getting ready for the holiday.” Sam’s a manager at the grocery store, it’s boring and monotonous but it pays enough to keep your son in cheerios and dinosaur pajamas. Sam’s been pretty vocal about hating the work, but it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here that much longer. “We’ll need the money before the move.”

“I love it here, I don’t want to leave.” You close your eyes and listen to the gulls squawking to one another in the distance. Sam shifts behind you and then it’s two arms enveloping you as his mouth breathes warm at your temple.

“I know, but we’ve already been here too long. We gotta keep movin’.” Sam’s past may very well catch up with you one day, but until then the two of you do everything you can to play it safe. It’s all about flying below the radar and staying on your toes, blending in before moving on. “You come up with any ideas yet?”

“I was thinking Washington state or maybe Oregon. Somewhere on the coast, I want to stay near the water.”

“Sounds perfect,” he kisses your temple but you feel him tense up. “I’ll start looking tomorrow.”

“What is it?” You turn your head. “I can practically feel you overthinking.”

“Is being with me worth all this?” He’s not really asking, he knows what your answer will be, but sometimes he needs to hear you say it. “You might never see your family again. We’ll never have a real home.”

You choose the most perfect memory of your father and cling to it. Doesn’t really matter if it’s only manufactured, because for you; it was all too real. You choose it because at that moment, he was the person he should and would have always been; had it not been for the stress of life and losing you. In that snapshot his unwarped personality was something so golden and sacred you want to keep it forever. Like an old movie reel, you can play it at will; it's 1987, on the back lawn of your childhood home. He's laughing, relaxed after mowing the lawn and asks you if you want an airplane ride and of course you do. What four-year-old doesn't? In the moment, he has your right wrist and ankle. He spins like a shot-putter, but he never lets go. The garden turns into a green blur; you’re flying. Flying until he can spin no more. The memory has no smells or weather, but the garden is in fine detail: the crab apple tree, the rhododendron bush, the weeds in the flower beds. But the finest detail is his face, creased with love and your joy, not only for the ride but for being with him.

Sam is that father to your son now, and you’ll give up whatever you have to give Will these small, precious moments that are sometimes over before they begin.

“My home is with you.” You cover emotion with jest, “are you trying to get rid of us?”

“No,” Sam chuckles as you pick up his hand, running your thumb over a bluish vein. “Never.”

“It’s always going to be you and me, Sam.” You confirm. “You and me ‘till the wheels fall off.”

The End.

Thank you to everyone who read, enjoyed, commented on and reblogged this story.

Tags: @smallgirlbigpersonality @mereka18 @gryffindorable713 @trainlikeawinchester @winchesterprincessbride @bamby0304 @saxxxology @notyourtypicalrose @mariekoukie6661 @little-big-mac2 @emoryhemsworth @mystriee @atc74 @holyfuckloueh @bunnybaby121115 @mogaruke @darkmystress00 @jaspesangriento @kazuha159 @mirandaaustin93 @crispychrissy @schilj79 @wilde-abandon @hennessy0274-blog @bojabee @miss-samantha-winchester @impalaimagining @andkatiethings @astephez @ladycynthia @mrswhozeewhatsis @lenawiinchester @feelmyroarrrr @mrs-meghan-winchester @har-rystyles @mistressofallthingsgeeky @theamuz @maui137 @stars-and-seas @vale0413 @impala67trenchcoat @curly-haired-disaster @ericaprice2008 @livelikeawinchester @althehufflepuff @itsthesamegametoday @bohowitch @spnwoman @just-a-normal-eccentric @gallifreyansass @StoneyGGirl @lonely-skys @81mysteriouslyme @missrandomista @soupornatural @stars-and-seas @natura1phenomenon @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @81mysteriouslyme @likhelbentin @mrooks0205 @zombiewerewolfqueen @winchesterprincessbride @squirrel-moose-winchester @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @closetspngirl @dominodoll @rainflowermoon @cleighwrites @camelotandastronauts @imarockstar45 @thebeastinside19 @courtney-padalecki @itsthesamegametoday @virtualgirlfriendsan @daisymoder72 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @mysticmcu @luciferseclipse @malinda1997 @sunlight-dean @rockhoochie @collette04 @sandlee44 @ohnowin-chester @maddiepants @fandom-princess-forevermore @geeksareunique @femdeni314 @lazinessisalliknow @samwinchesterssexyface @the-yellow-girl96 @that67chevy @that-weird-asian-gorl @lmitchell78 @snffbeebee @sandlee44 @fandom-is-my-middle-name @calaofnoldor @prettyinplaid94 @squirrelnotsam @spnwoman @luciferseclipse @daddys-littlewhitegirl @fanfictionjunkie1112 @immafangirlmess @winchesterweirdo @organicpurplepants @becs-bunker @mbanejr

#East of nowhere #series #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfic

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danganronpedits-archived · 4 years

Note

hi there ! i'd like a kin matchup ! i'm an ENTP ambivert who likes to tease and jokingly insult, but i mean no offence. i am forgiving, lazy, materialistic, sarcasm is my most prominent type of humour, i am pretty chill by nature, but i can also be overconfident or insecure about things and feel lonely and empty at times. i'm very eager to make my friends happy and give them the best advice i can while being supportive. i love spikes, drawing, sweets, rap and rock music.

i can absolutely get this done for you! thank you very much for requesting, you do seem really chill like you say, haha... sorry, i don’t have much else to say, but let’s get started! oh, this will have spoilers for rantaro’s talent and backstory

from danganronpa, i match you with...

rantaro amami!

i went back and forth between him and kaede a lot, but ultimately decided on rantaro! this is for a few reasons- first off, rantaro does like to tease a bit, though he doesn’t really mean any of it and is just trying to play around. he’s very much forgiving, and though i wouldn’t call him lazy, he’s a very relaxed person and i’d consider him somewhat passive in what he pursues. materialism, well, i’d say that he definitely places value on his experiences, but his travels would also likely get him money and artifacts, as well as place importance on money. just like you, rantaro can be sarcastic times- i wouldn’t consider it his most prominent type of humour, as he’s pretty genuine a lot of the time, but we also don’t see enough of him to effectively say whether he’d be more sarcastic ingame. he’s also a very chill person, like you, and i’m not able to describe him other as just that. he can definitely be more serious at times, or insecure versus overconfident- everything you said. however, both of your defaults are to be calm and taking things at your own pace.

a lot of this is due to his sisters, but he’s also very much able to make others happy and be supportive- plus, he’s also rather mature, as he probably had to help his parents take care of... their large family, to put it short. his insecurities tend to stem from his not thinking he wasn’t a great brother, and i’m sure that he probably didn’t get that much attention growing up due to, once again, his large family. i’m not saying that this is the case with you, anon, but a lot of his traits come from the fact that he had to basically be the chill uncle to a lot of his sisters, and possibly to his parents as well. also, i’m not sure how he feels about a lot of those since there isn’t a lot of canon stuff on it, but i’d definitely say he likes spikes with his piercings. also, he just sort of looks like the type to like rock music, but i wouldn’t doubt that he likes rap too, again due to the diversity he found in his travels!

from your turn to die, i match you with...

reko yabusame!

reko was one of the first characters to come to my mind, right after rantaro, reading your matchup! just to get a quick thing out of the way, reko definitely loves spikes, she’s literally in a rock band, and i wouldn’t be surprised if she likes rock too! plus, she does her own makeup to my knowledge, and that can definitely translate into art-related stuff like drawing! she’s also definitely more of an ambivert, in my eyes, and does tease or insult people like joe and sara, but means no harm. it’s specifically said ingame, actually, that she had this switch in her personality after her brother was, spoilers, convicted. she’s definitely forgiving, however, as she doesn’t seem to hold much resentment even to characters who do wrong things- like nao in the end of chapter 2. spoilers, so i won’t get too detailed, but still. the only time she doesn’t seem to forgive is whenever violence is involved, especially against people she cares about, ie miley to kanna.

you both are pretty chill as a default, i think! she’s a little more passionate and energetic than you seem, but of course, all i’m going off on is a paragraph about you haha... she can also have wavering confidence and insecurity, as well as happiness versus emptiness. these are mostly depending on the situation and how well she’s performing, specifically. especially with the kids of the group, however, reko does try and is eager to make the people around her happy- and support them in any way. these two things don’t exactly go hand in hand sometimes, but i think that both you and her have your ways of trying to help others!

this last source might be a bit out of the blue, but lastly, i match you with...

rainbow dash, from my little pony!

okay please hear me out. this is completely serious. thanks a bunch to my friend @/lumynox for presenting this one to me too, by the way !! i never would’ve thought of her on my own, haha... anyways! rainbow and you actually have a lot in common- first off, while i’d consider her more a tad bit more extroverted, she can get worn out just in general, being around other people. super valid ! and also, i mean, if you know her, she’s definitely the type to pick on her friends a bit and tease them for jokes- as well as just to try and help them. she’s very forgiving, especially with her friends, and i mean. her biggest dream is fame and glory, you mean to tell me that she’s not materialistic at all? plus, sarcasm and mild pranks are typically her biggest form of humour i just... you’re rainbowcore! that is it! she’s a little more energetic than you seem, but that’s about it.

the rest of the match is a checklist, pretty much- she can definitely range from insecure to overconfident about her own abilities, and despite being a spunky ball of energy, she has her moments where things just aren’t going right and she’s not up to facing the day at all. everyone does, and i don’t blame you(assuming you do) or her for having these times !! you both are more than eager to cheer up and support your friends- i mean, her defining character trait is literally loyalty. even if she’s not the best at supporting others logically sometimes, she’s there to be uplifting without being insensitive and that’s a really brilliant thing to find in someone else. lightning round, look at her hair and tell me she doesn’t love spikes, of course she loves sweets once again have you seen all of the episodes where the mcs share cake, definitely loves rock and maybe rap depends, and i feel like i remember her drawing before? but that’s just a loose guess.

this one’s really short, since i tried to keep all of the matchups major ones- but you know! it’s minor matchups time! first off, from danganronpa, you also strongly remind me of kaede akamatsu, and somewhat remind me of kazuichi souda! from yttd, you also remind me somewhat of joe tazuna, and a bit of alice yabusame! from other sources, you remind me strongly of roxie(pokemon), edward elric and lucio(overwatch)!

i hope this was alright, anon! there are a lot, since a source wasn’t specified, haha... please let me know if you’d like anything about it changed, it’s not rude in the slightest!

-mod tsu, who can feel the mikan shift coming at an uncomfortable pace

#kin matchup #honestly i don't have many tags other than that #anonnie #>< i'll try and get another one up before i go to bed !!!#i just realised they're the r gang #rantaro.............reko............rainbow #amazing #roxie is ALSO an r #ask #request finished #anon

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Note

Yo yo yo I need to kno more about Cleo!!!

After nearly a month (possibly more) here are some answers! Thanks for your ask, love

Tradition states that only rival heirs of the Moriyamas are sent to the branch family. As a girl, Riko was never a threat. However, since Riko’s mother died giving birth to her, Kengo blames the death of his wife on Riko and banishes her. The thing about the Moriyamas are that they’re coldhearted bishes so, when they love, they love with everything they’ve got. With Kengo’s wife dead, his life is cold and empty once more. The name Riko is not be uttered in the Moriyama household, especially not near Kengo. He will scream and cry and throw things. His grief is loud and violent. Many of Kengo’s men are from his wife’s family or were saved by her from disease and poverty. They owe her their lives and in her dying moments she called them all together to ask of them one last favor. She asked them to renew their pledges to Kengo and be there for him, no matter the cost. None of them refuse. Many silent tears are shed at her funeral. Anyway, all of the men are exceptionally loyal to him bc of this promise. Knowing Kengo’s frenzied grief if over the loss of the woman who loved them all as if they were her own children strengthens their bond with him. All of them secretly keep tabs on Riko, though. She looks just like her mother and it soothes their ragged souls to see their Mistresses features on her daughter.

Kengo’s men aren’t the only people secretly seeking solace in Riko. All the mystery shrouding the existence of his sister is the reason Ichirou was so intrigued by her. You know how Ania has a binder full of snippets of Kevin and Riko and their achievements and stuff? He has one too, dedicated solely to his sister. He secretly watches her games and interviews.

Kengo’s sister, Kana, is always around. She is Kengo’s best friend and closest advisor. When Kengo’s grief gets too much for him, Kana is the one that picks up his broken pieces. At all of the ridiculous fundraising functions they have to attend, Ichirou catches Kana making funny faces at Kengo from across the room. He's stunned by the sight of the soft twitch of his father's lips as he shakes his head in amusement. Unlike his father, Ichirou is all alone. He blames his father for it. It’s hard being the heir to the most feared crime syndicate in America, especially when you’re going it alone. Riko isn’t alone. She has Kevin and Jean and soon she shall have the Wesninski girl too. Ichirou is just a little bit bitter. He spends a lot of time day-dreaming about the day he’ll meet his sister. Never in a thousand years did he imagine it with a gun pressed to her head. As he pulls the trigger, his heart shatters into a thousand pieces. He stares emptily out the window of the car.

He doesn't find out about Cleo until Riko’s funeral. Everyone thinks he’s crying because his sister is dead. No. He’s crying because he’s an uncle and he hadn’t even known. After some investigation, he finds out the circumstances of Cleo’s conception. I’m not going into detail but let’s put it this way: Tetsuji doesn’t survive Ichirou’s wrath. It isn’t a quick death either.

Ichirou loved his sister wholeheartedly but he never got to tell her so. Knowing what he does now, he realizes that she was just as lonely as he was. More than anything, he does not want Cleo to suffer as he and Riko did. His first instinct is for him to take Cleo back. He’ll raise her as every Moriyama woman is raised: a Goddess to be feared and revered. At the funeral he has seen the child sleeping soundly in Wesninski’s arms and now a small part of him stalled. Life as the daughter of Riko and Tetsuji Moriyama will not be easy. If the public ever found out the circumstances under which Cleo was conceived, they’d riot at the very idea of her being raised by her uncle. Ichirou had already denounced his uncle and cut ties with him. He was a blemish on the Moriyama name that now threatened to bring them down entirely with his careless actions. No, Ichirou could not take Cleo back. Not if he wanted to preserve some semblance of his family's dignity. Or so her told himself.

Unlike his father, Ichirou wasn’t quite as coldhearted. Warmth still bloomed in his chest at the laughter of children and smiles still tinged his lips at the sight of the joys of others. Pain still stabbed through him at the sight of men bleeding out on the concrete before him and guilt kept him up at night, tormenting him with thoughts of the families of women left husbandless and children now fatherless. Above all else, he felt nothing but love for his baby niece and he wanted her to love him too. There would come a day when Cleo learned the truth herself. What would she think of Ichirou then? No matter what she might say, there would always be a hint of doubt in her mind insinuating falsehoods about him. Anguish washed over Ichirou at the very thought. He didn’t think he’d survive Cleo harboring so much as a single seed of hate in her heart for him. Staying away from her was for the best.

It’s a lot harder than he thought it would be, though. Cleo now lived at Palmetto State in the care of Abigail Winfield and David Wymack. Riko was Evermore’s unofficial mascot and now Cleo was Palmetto’s. Her face is plastered across every screen in the nation. Many Raven fans are livid with rage. This is the highest betrayal. Riko Moriyama had a child and no one said anything?!?!?! Riots are a thing. Someone tried to kidnap Cleo to take her back to Evermore.

The attempted kidnapping is the final straw. First of all, they’re dismembered parts were sent home to their family in a UPS box. Second of all, Ichirou holds a press conference in which he reveals the truth about Cleo’s birth, explaining why he can’t take her in, and making a thinly veiled threat to the remaining Raven fans about what would happen to the next person who tried to harm her. No one ever bothers Palmetto State again.

Cleo grows up hating Riko. For a long time, she doesn’t know she’s Riko’s daughter. All photos of Riko are banned. The adults only ever talk about her when they think Cleo is asleep. Cleo wakes in the middle of the night for a drink of water and creeps over to the kitchen. She can hear the adults angrily hissing at one another. They’re talking about someone named Riko with as much hate as Cleo’s ever heard. Wymack is always mad but this is something else. Abby seems upset as well, a truly rare sight. She doesn’t know who Riko is but she hates her now.

Cleo only finds out when she goes to school. After intense debate, the Foxes decided to keep her last name as it was. It was already too well known to do anything about it. Some kid comes from an exy obsessed family and mentions that she looks a lot like Riko Moriyama. Cleo gets sent to the principal's office for punching the kid.

Wymack and Abby can no longer hide it. They sit her down at the kitchen table and tell her the truth. Cleo doesn’t take it well. Maybe I’ll talk about the specifics later but there’s quite a bit of work that goes into that and I need to clear the asks that are already in my inbox.

She knows who her father is too but the details are limited because of course they are. She’s like 7 rn.

After all this drama, she learns about her Uncle Ichirou. She goes behind Wymack and Abby’s backs to send him a letter. It’s written in red crayon on a sheet of black construction paper: Evermore’s colors. Ichirou flips his shit. His beloved little niece has just found out the truth about her birth and the first thing she did was write to him.

It’s after this that Ichirou ends up abolishing the branch family entirely. He keeps all three of his kids, one daughter and two sons, by his side. He’s still the head of the yakuza tho so I mean… he still tortures and kills people. His kids grow up the same way. He’s literally only soft for his wife, kids, and Cleo.

Ania has a bunch of galas and charity balls that she has to attend because she ‘donates’ to the Moriyama foundation. Ichirou makes her bring Cleo along so he can see her. Erin doesn’t like the thought of Ichirou being around Cleo so the three of them always arrive together and Erin is never far from Cleo. If she can’t be around, Jeanie, Jeremy, Kevin, or Thea are there. Ichirou is never left with Cleo unsupervised for obvious reasons. He wishes it didn’t have to be that way but he understands their concern and lets it go.

Since Ichirou isn’t really allowed to show physical affection towards her, Cleo gets spoiled rotten by her uncle. Every Christmas, there’s a shit ton of presents on Wymack’s doorsteps. All the labels read To: Cleo From: Santa in Ichirou’s unmistakable handwriting. There’s also just a bunch of presents that show up out of the blue. At least once a month, there’s some very expensive-as ‘thing’ in the mail. I mean, this shit belongs in museums. They’re almost always Japanese bc Ichirou doesn’t want her to forget her heritage. She’s got a lot of kimonos and a few samurai swords and ornate hair clips and umbrellas and shoes. She’s got a lot of scrolls written in Japanese too which is why she asks Kevin to teach her to speak and write it. Some of the scrolls are actually letters to her from Ichirou. These all go in a special box that she keeps on the top shelf of her closet.

Speaking of Kevin, Thea is an absolute miracle worker. It’s a long road to his recovery but Thea is there for him the whole way. Cleo is the biggest hurdle on this road. She looks just like Riko. She’s got the same bright laugh and brilliant smile. She has the same features as her mother, and grandmother by default, and has the same build. Looking at her, all Kevin can see is Riko.

One day he goes to pick her up from daycare. He can only watch as one of Cleo’s friends pushes someone else off the swings and offered the seat to Cleo. Kevin’s heart stopped. Riko would most definitely take the seat, kicking up the mulch in the other child’s face. Instead, Cleo shoves her friend aside and extends a hand to the boy on the ground. She helps him to his feet and wipes away the tears on the little boy’s face. She picks the mulch out of his hair and the splinters from his hand. Kevin is close enough to hear her say to him that a kiss will make it better. She kisses his palm and turns back to her friend. She tells the girl off. Before they know it, the little girl is bawling her eyes out. Cleo hugs her but insists that she needs to apologize to the boy. Satisfied by her friend’s meek apology she offers the kid his seat back. He shakes his head and asks if the girls want a turn. It’s the first time Kevin realizes that Riko and Cleo aren’t the same person. Kevin totally isn’t crying when he calls her over and checks her out of the daycare center.

Growing up at Palmetto, Cleo meets a lot of kids from broken homes. As a result she becomes really compassionate. She also becomes really touchy-feely. When the kids are sad she likes to give them hugs and hold their hands or pet their hair. She also makes? Them? Presents? Like little beaded necklaces and friendships bracelets. She makes an orange and white rubber band bracelet thing for Wymack and now he keeps his keys on it.

As I’ve mentioned, Cleo is ten when Erin and Ania get married and ask her to come and live with them. Wymack and Abby drive her up to the girls’ apartment in New York. Cleo is all nerves when she arrives. She’s grown up calling them Mom and Mama but now she’s going to live with them. Like…. Permanently!!!!!!!!!!

Standing in front of the door, she can’t bring herself to knock. Wymack kneels down in front of her and asks her what’s wrong.

“What if they’ve changed their minds?” Cleo whispered.

“Worst case scenario?” Wymack asked. “You’ll come back with us. I don’t think Abby and I are all that bad.”

“You’re not,” Cleo replied, hastily. Wymack stood back up.

“Look, kid. It’s not going to be easy for them to adjust to having you around but they will. There isn’t a soul on the face of the Earth that loves you more than they do. How could they not? You’re pretty fucking great,” he said. Abby pursed her lips at Wymack’s language but said nothing.

“You ready, Cleo?” she asked. Cleo nodded and Abby’s face brightened with a smile. The door opened just as Cleo mustered up the courage to knock. Arms wrapped around her and picked her up off the ground. Ania’s laughter rang in Cleo’s ears as the crushing weight of the hug knocked the air from her lungs. Kisses were speckled all across her face as Ania stepped out of the apartment and swung Cleo around until they were too dizzy to go on. The world was still spinning as Cleo collapsed beside Ania.

“She’s been here less than a minute and you’re already trying to kill her?” The familiar rough voice caught Cleo’s attention. As her vision settled, she saw Erin leaning against the door frame.

“Mom,” Cleo whispered, in awe as if Erin was an apparition. Erin remained in the doorway, stone-faced and covered in flour.

“Not going to give your mom a hug?” Erin asked finally. Cleo was on her feet in less than a second. She barrelled into Erin’s open arms, nearly knocking her over. Tears gushed from Cleo’s eyes. “The hell are you crying about, Little One?” Erin muttered into Cleo’s hair. Cleo loosed a shaky laugh. She let Erin pick her up and heard the voices of the others as they entered the house.

Cleo loves living with Erin and Ania. Like Wymack said, there’s an adjustment period but it’s not super long or uncomfortable. Erin is really good with kids and Ania really loves Cleo so they make it work.

Sometimes Cleo gets sad, though. Her moms have games that they have to go to often so they’re always flying out to them. Fortunately, Aaron and Katelyn are living up in New York too. It’s about a two hour drive out to Uncle Aaron’s. Cleo loves being with him and her cousins, the twins, Lila and Leena. They’re really nice and Cleo gets along with them really well. They stay up late braiding each others’ hair and whispering secrets and telling stories. Katelyn makes the best mac and cheese on the face of the planet Earth and she always makes it whenever she knows Cleo’s especially down. They all sit on the couch together to watch Cleo’s moms’ games. Cleo catches her uncle hasilty scrubbing tears from his eyes at the sight of his sister’s rare, fierce grin.

Uncle Nicky and Uncle Erik are great. They don’t have kids. Instead they have two corgis named Micheal and Jude that fight all the time. The only time they ever seem to get along is when they’re with Cleo. The two of them like to sit on opposite side of Cleo, sandwiching her in the middle.

Uncle Erik is a pastor at the church and he sings in the choir. He’s almost as good a singer as Erin… almost. He teaches Cleo how to sing. He also really likes to bake. Often, Cleo’s moms go on dates where they wander around Stuttgart together and just enjoy each other’s company. They almost always come home to find Erik and Cleo coated in flour and sugar and chocolate. Cleo uses her newfound baking skills to make things to her mom. Erin is living for it. Ania doesn’t approve of the unhealthy diet but she knows Cleo bakes with love so she limits how much Cleo is allowed to bake and instates portion control.

Cleo is mildly claustrophobic and the worst of it happens on planes. Ania and Erin have a pre-flight ritual that they extend to include Cleo in as well. Every time Erin has to get on a plane and Ania is there to see her off, she has Erin roll back her armbands (she doesn’t wear them anymore but this was back in college) and draws a little heart on the inside of her wrist. Once it dries, Ania will press a kiss to the little heart. Growing up, Ania didn’t like plane either so her mother used to do this for her to quiet her fears. It makes Erin and Cleo feel very loved and protected. I mean, they know it doesn’t actually doing anything but it always makes them feel a lot better.

On Saturday mornings, most kids wake up early to watch cartoons. Cleo wakes up to go snuggle with her moms. She’s around 12/13 when she starts this. Most of her moms’ games are on Fridays and they get back late at night or really early in the morning. Cleo wakes up at 9 a.m. and makes breakfast for the three of them and set the table. Everything is usually ready around 10 so she’ll creep into her moms’ room. Both of them are light sleepers so they’ll hear her come in. They sleep spooning each other but they always make space between the two of them so Cleo can wriggle in between them. Their cats, Sir and King, usually come in too. It soft and warm and all of them are happy.

Cleo is obviously a part of an exy team. She’s the biological daughter of Riko Moriyama and is being raised by Exy stars Erin and Ania Minyard-Josten. What did you expect?

She’s a striker. A much better one than her mother was. Better than Kevin too. The only person that outshines her is Ania but it doesn’t bother Cleo. In fact, it gives her something to aspire towards. She and Ania spend a lot of late nights out at the court with Erin in goal. Family bonding time :’)

Cleo likes getting her nails done. She usually does this with Ania. Ania only ever gets her non-dominant hand done and Cleo doesn’t understand. She only starts to understand once she gets married but I’ll get to that in a minute.

There’s about a 3 year difference between Cleo and Amalia. Okay, look. Kevin’s grad party was wild and he and Thea might have had a little too much to drink. That’s how Amalia is conceived. Thea is mortified. Kevin asks her if she wants an abortion. Both of them are pro-choice, especially after learning everything that went down with the birth of Cleo. Thea believes in the right to choose but she could never have an abortion herself. She gives birth to Amalia and it devastated her. Her entire career is put on hold so she can have her baby. Kevin is stressed. He wants doesn’t want to sacrifice Thea’s happiness for that of their child. The only compromise they can work out is to have their contracts transferred. They join the team based in Columbia, an hour and a half from the Foxhole Court. They wouldn’t dare ask Wymack to raise their child but they do ask for his help. Whenever they travel, Wymack and Abby babysit their granddaughter. The Monsters are at Palmetto for one more year so they help out too. Ania isn’t good with kids other than Cleo but she does her best to help. Jeanie and Jeremy get named the godparents but they don’t get to see Amalia often until Thea and Kevin move out to the West Coast. The Muldani-Days live in Seattle and the Knoxs remain in California. Visiting them is painful for Ania and Erin but they make new memories with them and so it isn’t all bad.

Cleo and Amalia are best friends. Kevin and Thea live on the West Coast, on the other end of the nation, so the girls skype a lot. They binge watch shows together like this and help each other with homework too. They always get to see each other when their parents play each other at games and during holidays. Sometimes Kevin will let Amalia stay over with Erin and Ania or vice versa. All of this takes a serious mental toll on Cleo. She’s head over heels for Amalia. Sleeping literal inches from her is going to drive Cleo insane. Amalia is as much of a clingy sleeper as her father so she will often throw and arm over Cleo while asleep and draw her close. Cleo is certain she’s going to die then and there.

Anyway, Kevin is shook. All his ptsd comes crashing back in a massive wave. He remembers how Riko treated him. What is Cleo does the same to Amalia? It doesn’t take him long to snap out of it. Cleo was raised in a loving home by Wymack, Abby, and the Foxes. All of them are broken but it's part of what made them such good people for her to around. Cleo has learned compassion to a degree that Kevin could only imagine. She is kind-hearted and loving and incredibly genuine. No one was ever going to be good enough for Amalia in Kevin’s eyes but Cleo was definitely as close as he’d hoped to find.

He doesn’t say anything to Amalia. He doesn’t want to hurt Cleo’s chances but he doesn’t want to force his daughter to pick Cleo for his sake either.

Amalia picks Cleo of her own free will. Their wedding is massive. Kevin breaks down crying as he walks her down the aisle to Cleo. Cleo rushes off the altar and helps him to his feet. She and Amalia walk him to the end before depositing him in a seat beside Thea. They’re all giggles and bright smiles as they stand together at the altar.

They honeymoon in the French countryside. They spend most of it in bed together. Amalia is asexual so no that’s not what I meant, you heathens. They just curl up beside one another talking and giggling and kissing bc they’re happy and in love.

Amalia and Cleo become foster parents. They do adopt but it usually older kids, late teens. Due to their age, few of them live with their moms but they all come together for the holidays.

Holidays are hell. Cleo and Amalia have like eight kids and then they’re usually fostering someone. A lot of their kids are married and have their own kids plus their parents and uncles/aunts + grandparents show up. This is the only reason Cleo and Amalia live in a mansion. They need to be able to accommodate all these people.

They grow old together. They have those shared tombstones with their graves side by side. Cleo dies first. Amalia doesn’t cry. She laughs and dances and tells stories about her wife. Cleo’s funeral is a celebration of her life not the mourning of her death, just the way she would have wanted it to be.

Every day up until her own death, Amaila places pink and white carnations on Cleo’s grave. She’ll sit by her grave and read all her favorite books to her. Amalia misses Cleo dearly but she believes that she’ll return to her beloved when the time comes.

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m-602 · 5 years

Text

Within the Flames

((Look... I’mma apologize. I promised a story like... almost a month ago. A little less a little more. Then I got distracted... Then I got lazy... And it just kinda... went downhill from there.))

((This changed a lot between when I first started this to now. The nature of M’s “insane state” turned into its own effing character - I loved it. There’s also the fact the M’s default appearance changed (a lot happened in Discord >.>). @astel4 decided to make a drawing of it!))

((I’m not sure what I’m going to write after this, but... I’ll figure it out. I’ll probably wait until Thanksgiving Break in a few weeks before I do, though.))

((Warning. Death, Gore, Violence, and extremely verbose writing await you. I... kind of went overboard with all the descriptive words and such. ^-^;))

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

Death claims everything that lives, be it at the apex of one’s journey or before it even begins. Nothing truly lasts forever. At some point or another, everything must end…

…

So what about when it doesn’t end. When something finite becomes infinite at its most pivotal moment. Where even though it reached its finale, an ongoing encore drags the faded tale further beyond.

At this point, the story simply… is. It no longer serves meaning beyond what the protagonist decides. They trudge on through the universe - what is normally a one-shot story becomes a novel where the second chapter never ends. The pain, the joy, the woes, the celebrations, the sorrows - they pile on and on, never weighing them down, and yet draining them all the same.

Some can handle this ever increasing strain on their being. They become protectors, mediators, and teammates. The best of your friends and family despite their status. They grow wiser and wiser with every new step they take, eventually coming to terms with their fate.

And yet, their lives are not lacking in pain and strife. The ever increasing pile that their afterlives grant them affects them still, even if they manage it well. It’s sometimes obvious in subtle behaviors or reactions. But sometimes… it becomes so much that they burst in unimaginable ways.

In the case of one, their rage leaves nothing but fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ???, M

Them.

He thought they were gone. That they had perished along with everything they destroyed. They hurt so many, and for what reason? Paranoia. Half the towns and cities that they had ruined didn’t even pose a threat to them… It’s almost like they wanted to wipe them all out for no reason.

They were still here in this dead world. In this world that they killed. That they destroyed with little concern or conscience. How they could possibly believe they deserve to have this world for themselves baffles and beguiles him. Was it truly possible that they wanted the whole world to themselves? Was living alongside others outside of their own nation really such an impossibility?!

He still remembers all the destruction they wrought. He occasionally hears the screams of his loved ones and family, both in the waking world and the realm of slumber. Even his own powers bring reminder of the loss he’s felt.

His barriers… a representation of his futile desire to protect everyone, and the only power he could call his. The magic that would’ve developed naturally, now warped and strengthened by Death itself. His flames… a representation of the ruin he’s bore witness to. A representation of the spark of life that should’ve been extinguished - persistently, it has only blazed forth an endless path with a renewed, infinite robust. His chains… a representation of the pain he keeps within. The binding emotions that he has weaponized… His very scythe… a memento of his own demise...

These thoughts are only fuel for the raging blaze. His temper only seems to grow more and more uncontrollable as he continues forward. Towards the very people he’d have no problem torturing. The only people he would liberally shatter and tear. The only people he would grant the ultimate end, leaving nothing but their ashes.

* They’ll pay… They’ll all pay! None of them will escape!

Everything that’s happened to him. Everything he’s lost. Every problem that he’s had to deal with. Every one of his greatest sorrows. His own death!

It was all their fault.

And from the seeds of sorrow they’ve woven blooms their fiery penance. The flames of judgement that will turn upon them the pain they’ve inflicted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AoC HQ, Commander Able

For the first time in all these years, they had detected something other than one of their own. Something that shouldn’t be here. This world was theirs alone, they made sure of that decades ago! If there was someone else here, they needed to be swiftly executed!

After weeks of careful study, deliberation, and reconnaissance, they’ve finally determined their unwanted loiterers… A literally dead town. No joke! It was crawling with remnants of lives they had thought extinguished. What a revelation… And a truly embittering one considering that this world was theirs.

Not even the dead from other towns can have it. They won’t have such impure presences walk around their world - their property. This wasn’t a planet for them to share! They worked diligently to ensure this world was theirs and theirs alone. They won’t let it be all for naught.

As the Agents of Creation, and the ones designated as the world’s only residents, they wouldn’t let such trespassing go unpunished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Outside the AoC HQ, M?

There they were. After all these years, the ones who were responsible for everything - the destruction of his home, the destruction of his world, the deaths of his friends, the deaths of his family, his own death - there they were, safe and sound in their little base.

“Agents of Creation”? HA! They think life itself granted them the “okay” to tear this world and its people apart. To keep it all to themselves?! It’s a notion so ridiculous and audacious that it makes him laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh...

…

The skies darken. Dark blue flames begin to encroach upon the base. The lights within even flicker under the overwhelming power. You could practically see the world distort and waver. The sound of chains could be heard somewhere off base.

A mighty cloak to symbolize the coming disaster… A nobler crown to symbolize HIS reign…

[FOR ONCE… WE ARE IN AGREEMENT… LET US TEAR THEM APART… THIS WORLD IS OURS TO RULE…]

The laughter was absolutely deafening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Entrance, THEM

They thought the power was faltering. That some kind of fuse was busted, or a connection line needed repair. If it weren’t for the… creepy, sinister laughter, that thought would have prevailed.

There was something… powerful outside. Its laughter seemed to echo from everywhere and anywhere. No matter what they did, the laughter invaded their senses, their minds, driving them to fear.

A surveillance camera caught a glimpse of dark blue flames encroaching upon the building before it just… gave out. They attempted to make contact with perimeter lookouts, only to be met with radio silence. Everyone flooded the entrance to the base, shaking weapons at the ready. Officers, generals, leaders, and other VIPs congregated in the center of the base. Being in the most well protected and guarded area of the complex would absolutely mean they were safe… right? Right?!

Thunder boomed from outside the building, a lightning bolt striking nearby. The wind seemed to scream at every soldier near the entrance, snapping at them with a primordial anger. The laughter seemed to grow… louder?

“Open the doors! We’ll ambush that thing!”

At the order, the massive metallic doors started to open slowly. Everyone trained their weapons on the entrance, unsure of what they’ll see when they open.

The last thing they expected was darkness to overtake the room. The last thing they expected was the sound of chains joining the echoing laugh. The last thing they expected was a dark blue fire to flood the room.

The last thing they expected was a terrifying shadow to literally tear someone into multiple small pieces, commenting only with a maniacal cackle…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AoC HQ, Ikearu

* Don’t get used to this… [HENCE WHY I’M GOING TO SAVOR EVERY MOMENT…]

There were few things the two personalities could agree on. They toil endlessly within the psyche, one trying to suppress the other and exert control. One simply wished for a peaceful existence, the other wished to drag others with them and govern their afterlives under an iron fist. Such conflicted causes could surely find naught to compromise upon. And yet, one thing they could…

Was the total annihilation of those who wronged this world. For differing reasons, that is certain, and yet here they were in total agreement.

One wished vengeance on these cretins that took away the world and forced him to wander for eternity; the other simply feels insulted at the insolence they express in his world. And that personality was now tearing the abominations in human form to shreds…

The first victim - who foolishly decided to inch himself towards the metal doors - was just a mere demonstration. Shredding him from the fingers down, letting the body parts coat the floor. His bloodied claws twitched imperceptive. He still had quite a lot of fun to be had with the rest of these fodder.

Though their piteous weaponry fired, not a single bullet made contact with the maniacal shadow. If they weren’t torn to bits by his claws, they were burned, electrocuted, crushed by chains. A dark flame would erupt from their cadavers, extinguishing any remnants of a spirit they had. Not even the chance to so much as arise as Fiends shall be sanctioned to them. A pitiful, empty existence as that is one even they aren’t worthy of.

Alarms would’ve blared if the facility wasn’t drowned in shadow. Good. The quiet suits him. Makes it easier for him to mess with his prey. It allows him to prey on their fears, their anxieties, before ending it all in the most painful of ways. To let them watch as their fellows are dragged off, incinerated, mutilated in front of them by a seemingly invisible opponent.

The base fell into total lock-down in an attempt to keep him - THE KING - in one place… An amusing gesture to think he could be stopped. Any doors in his way: busted open in a fiery blaze. A wall of lasers: short-circuited by a jolt of dark blue electricity. No matter the obstruction, he blasted through, leaving behind a crimson trail. As annoying as they may have been, they only made this more enjoyable to him. Sometimes, he would use the obstructions to mess with his prey further, making them believe themselves safe before reality comes to crush their dreams in the event of their demise.

The sound of rustling chains, thundering explosions, and psychopathic cackling echoed throughout the building, accompanied only by the screams of indolent soldiers. If they weren’t responsible for the death of a world - if they didn’t suffer from a lack of altruism - perhaps one could feel sympathy for them… Unlikely.

[A SHAME THEY MUST FADE INTO NOTHING - I’D HAVE NO PROBLEM RULING OVER THEIR SPIRITS AND SUBJECTING THEM TO TORTURE UNYEILDING…]

* Yet we’ve both agreed that they don’t even deserve that. To exist for even another second.

[I’VE NOT FORGOTTEN. I’M NO FOOL. IT WOULD BE INACCURATE TO SAY THAT I WOULDN’T BE TEMPTED TO DESTROY THEM ANYWAY.]

After perhaps an hour of constant carnage and massacre, he finds himself before a set of ornate, sealed doors. This is very clearly the most secure part of the base, and not a guard in sight. That’s to be expected - every other soldier in this place was dead. The building already began to crumble in a mighty conflagration. Even now, the flames rise behind him, ready to eat away at the cowards within.

He flashes a widening, sinister smile, his face looking like the creepiest jack o’ lantern to ever exist beneath his hood.

[AND NOW… THE FINALE…]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Central Control, Able

He couldn’t see what was going on outside, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put two and two together. He could hear the screams, the fire, from they’re safe zone - they were quite difficult to ignore. He knew the main defense was nothing but cinders, now.

He and the remaining guard now eyed the only entrance to the room they were in, shaking with absolute subtlety. Everything they worked for was crashing down around them. Their allies outside now lay dead, murdered by the psycho outside. If they were going down, they wanted to go down with a fight… They already had a plan to kill this thing.

The temperature in the room steadily began to rise. It rose and rose and rose until it was nearly smoldering in the room. Everyone in the room started breaking out into a sweat as they were essentially being cooked alive… Very, very slowly cooked alive.

A footstep. Another. Very slow, meticulous footsteps could be heard from beyond the doors. The maniacal laughter was heard everywhere, but felt the loudest here. The thing that was tearing their base apart was right outside, biding its time…

…

In an instant, the doors blew open. Something was in the room, dashing straight for Able.

Only to be caught in some kind of colorless sphere.

Able could now get a good look at the beast.

It was… terrifying, to say the least. It was… almost completely shadow, with some kind of blue outline or aura defining its shape. Floating directly above its head was a crown, shaped like fire, that could probably fit perfectly on its head. It wore a dark blue cloak, adorned with various black designs similar to chains, with the hood sitting upon its head perfectly shadowing its face - you could only see slitted blue eyes and a jagged, sinister grin, as if its very mouth was made of extremely sharp teeth! The ends of it cloak separated and curled similar to flames, creating a unique, jagged design. The collar around its neck opened in to the front half of its body, bearing a similar jagged design.

The… thing just smiled at him. A menacing grin that chilled him to the bone, despite the searing flames outside. It stopped laughing at least…

He decided to talk to it. It was going to be obliterated anyways. Why not gloat a little?

“Well… aren’t you a nasty abomination? You sure caused us quite a bit of strife today. However, as much as you’ve destroyed, we can rebuild. After all, we are the designated rulers of this world - it would be a shame if we fell so easily. Besides, we can’t have something as atrocious as you running around causing trouble.”

A humming sound filled the room. The device would take but a few moments to charge, but soon enough, this thing would be nothing but dust.

“Any last words before you meet oblivion?”

The thing just… chuckled at him. It was a deep, dark chuckle that seemed to reverberate around the room.

“THAT IS MY LINE, YOU WORM. THIS WORLD IS MINE, AND MINE ALONE. YOUR LIFE IS BUT AN EMPTY EXISTENCE THAT NEED BE EXTINGUISHED.”

The thing’s voice echoed throughout the room, its words evoking fear into Abel’s heart. It… wasn’t even scared. Why wasn’t it scared?! It continued.

“YOU BELIEVE THIS WORLD YOUR OWN? HA! TO THINK YOU’D BE WORTHY OF A WORLD YOU’VE ROTTED SO IS PITIABLE INDEED… I’M THE RIGHTFUL OWNER OF THIS WORLD. YOU’VE DONE NAUGHT BUT RUIN IT FOR THE SAKE OF RUIN. I SHALL RULE THOSE YOU’VE DESTROYED WITH AN IRON FIST, UNTIL ALL OF LIFE HAS KNOWN PENANCE UNDER MY REIGN.”

“YOU SHALL BE THE FIRST TO BE PUNISHED FOR SUCH INSOLENCE.”

In one moment it was there… and the next, nothing. The maniacal laughter returned, stronger than ever. A guard on the right burned to a crisp. A guard on the left was dragged away by a haunting chain. Another torn apart. Another completely gutted… until that sinister face now stood right in front of Abel in a suddenly darkened room. The weapon from before simply… stopped.

“FAREWELL, WORM. YOU’RE VERY EXISTENCE IRRITATES ME.”

It grabbed him by the neck, holding him up against the screen behind him. He felt his consciousness, his vision, his hearing, his memories, his personality, and everything he knew fade slowly into darkness. The temperature in the room rose drastically, until dark blue flame coated the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. The last thing Abel would know…

…was searing, blue fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nowhere Important, The Lich King

Death claims everything that lives. Nothing lasts forever…

For one person, it was a new beginning. The extension to his story he never asked for. With literally all the time in the world, he bore a similarly heavy weight. And now at his peak, that weight has been made manifest, though an echo had always been present… That same echo now granted his killers a contrasting demise.

For them, their journeys have reached a permanent end. No memory, no body, no will, no spirit that would anchor them to the mortal coil or grant them peace in the beyond. A true death, where they only know oblivion - a nothingness that transcends abysmal. And even then… no longer do they have a consciousness for oblivion to be known to.

The lich rises from the burning wreckage, admiring his work. With the deed done, he makes himself scarce… before launching a powerful fireball at the wreckage. With a massive ‘boom’, the wreckage ignites in a colossal, dark blue flame, easily reaching the height and size of a skyscraper. It burned and burned, never waning in strength - such a flame would never fade so long as this world remained intact.

Before returning to the dark recesses of his counterpart’s psyche, he flashes a menacing smile on his face, leaving his other half with a message.

[ONE DAY… THIS WILL BE PERMANENT… ONE DAY… A DEAL LIKE THIS WILL BE YOUR DOWNFALL… AND ON THAT DAY, I SHALL RISE A TRUE KING, AND MAKE THIS WORLD AND ALL OTHERS MY OWN… THIS FIRE… LET IT BE A REMINDER OF THE PUNISHMENT THAT AWAITS THE FOOLS WHO DEFY ME.]

And with that, the dark ego retreated to the deepest corners of the mind, saying not another word. The cloak vanished, and the crown upon his head went back to its usual size and position above his head. He sighed.

“I’m well aware, Ikearu… I’ve been aware ever since I’ve fought to keep you from getting out… So long as I exist…”

…

“I won’t let the undeserving suffer within your flames.”

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((Feel free to send me ideas if you want me to write a story. I rather enjoy A Hat in Time stories, and I may dabble in a Hollow Knight story. Just maybe...))

((I do hope you enjoyed. Please, if you’re going to leave criticisms, make sure it’s constructive and not just bland hate. I want to be able to improve on my writing.))

((Have a great day! And thank you for reading!))

#m #character #sona #original story #long post #sorry this is so late #tw gore #tw violence #tw death

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jazzbits · 6 years

Text

I’m not going to tag anyone on this but if you’re up to the task feel free to copy, paste, and tag me so I can read your answers!

1. Is there a special person in your life? My mom, dad, bro and hmm ekis

2. Think of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them?

I guess uhm yes

3. What’s something you really want right now?

uhm fruits ahh sushi!! I haven’t had my dinner yet and I’m starving.

4. Are you afraid of falling in love?

It’s not an option right now. But if it was the right person I would be fine with it hehe pag naka move on na ako.

5. Do you like the beach?

super yes

6. Have you ever slept on a couch with someone else?

nah

7. What’s the background on your cell?

My cat

8. Name the last four beds you were sat on?

hotel room's bed, mom and dad's, mine and hmm ate sachi

9. Do you like your phone?

I guess! It’s just an iPhone 6.

10. Honestly, are things going the way you planned?

No, not at all.

11. Who was the last person added to your contacts?

kuya dexter's.

12. Which hurts most, physical or emotional pain?

Emotional… It lasts longer.

13. Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum?

BOTH OMG

14. Are you tired?

Yes! I slept in so late this morning but still exhausted from last night.

15. How long have you known your 1st phone contact?

Probably about 3 years.

16. Are they a relative?

some of them

17. Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes?

Well… There’s a reason why they are an “ex” so hopefully yes hahaha jk

18. When did you talk to the last person you shared a kiss with?

hmm

19. If you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today?

No, that’s not an option right now.

20. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

I don’t know.

21. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now?

two

22. Is there a certain quote you live by?

I don’t really live by any specific quote.

23. What’s on your mind?

hmm her, tbh, we used to do this thing like randomly.. she'll be like "sige na magtanong ka pa, ang tagal naman ehh" haha enough kwento naman tayo nito

24. Do you have any tattoos?

25. What is your favourite colour?

the color of her eyes

26. Next time you will kiss someone on the lips?

No clue!

27. Who are you texting?

Kei.

28. Think to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch?

nah

29. Have you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right?

Yes! Lots of times.

30. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to?

Yes

31. Do you think anyone has feelings for you right now?

uhm yeah

32. Has anyone ever told you, you have pretty eyes?

Yes

33. Say the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you?

I don’t think that would happen but I would probably be upset.

34. Were you single on Valentine’s Day?

No.

35. Are you friends with the last person you kissed?

never been kissed never been touch but totally damaged AMP

36. What do you friends call you?

jazz, bhe, babe, tayan, etc hahah

37. Has anyone upset you in the last week?

Yes.

38. Have you ever cried over a text?

Y E S

39. Where is your last bruise located?

wrist

40. Where is it from?

myself

41. Last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad?

Right now

42. Who was the last person you were on the phone with?

natalie

43. Do you have a favourite pair of shoes?

CLN, WB, NIKE,

44. Do you wear hats if you’re having a bad hair day?

No. I wear hijab

45. Would you ever go bald if it was the style?

No.

46. Do you make supper for your family?

Yes.

47. Does your bedroom have a door?

Yes.

48. Top 3 webpages?

Email, Youtube and Tumblr.

49. Do you know anyone who hates shopping?

My brother

50. Does anything on your body hurt right now?

My heart..jaw

51. Are goodbyes hard for you?

They can be depending on the person.

52. What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself?

Water probably.

53. How is your hair?

it's all good rn

54. What do you usually do first thing in the morning?

Get out of bed then wash my face

55. Do you think two people can last forever?

It’s definitely possible but you have to put the work in.

56. Think back to January 2007, were you single?

yessss

57. Green or purple grapes?

I like both.

58. When’s the next time you will give someone a big hug?

Probably when get home. aye mom and dad I miss you a lot

59. Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?

Yes, in her room..I want to hug her and thank her for everything she did for me :)

60. When will be the next time you text someone?

Right now.

61. Where will you be 5 hours from now?

Mandaue again and again, Mall uhm bank

62. What were you doing at 8 this morning?

eating

63. This time last year, can you remember who you liked?

Yes <3

64. Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

Four actually! mom, dad, my cat, and her

65. Did you kiss or hug anyone today?

Nope.

66. What was your last thought before you went to bed last night?

I was crying..dying hmm

67. Have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

Countless times…

68. How many windows are open on your computer?

Two! Facebook and Tumblr.

69. How many fingers do you have?

10…

70. What is your ringtone?

The default iPhone one

71. How old will you be in 5 months?

72. Where is your mom right now?

hometown, cotabato city

73. Why aren’t you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love?

hindi siya masaya sa piling ko oh divaa tagalog naman

74. Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days?

75. Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago?

Yes I think most of them.

76. Do you remember who you had a crush on in grade 7?

Um yiz

77. Is there anyone you know with the name Mike?

enriquez

78. Have you ever fallen asleep in someone’s arms?

79. How many people have you liked in the past three months?

Only one.

80. Has anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days?

Yes my cousin

81. Will you talk to the person you like tonight?

i want to but hahaha no?

82. You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

I don’t do that and I wouldn’t be in my car drunk.

83. If your bf/gf was into drugs would you care?

OFC

84. What was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie?

not impressed

85. Who was your last received call from?

mom

86. If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you?

No?? What’s with some of these questions?

87. What is something you wish you had more of?

TIME, COURAGE, AND CHANCE

88. Have you ever trusted someone too much?

Yes, I have a habit of that.

89. Do you sleep with your window open?

OFC NOT UGH SO SCARY HUH

90. Do you get along with girls?

uhm yeah

91. Are you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth?

No.

92. Does sex mean love?

I mean I would like to think it does but it doesn’t all of the time.

93. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

Potentially could be.

94. Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?

95. Did you sleep alone this week?

Yes, downstairs @sofa hahaha

96. Everyone has somebody to make them happy, do you?

Yes.

97. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Possibly?

98. Who was the last person that you pinky promised?

none

99. How many kids do you want?

shiz we used to like having 10 or more? lol and honestly agreed but now..uhm maybe 2 baby girl and a baby boy

100. Do you like doing tags? sometimes lol

#Asks #100 questions

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casuistor · 6 years

Text

Re: Matsuda’s Theory about Near’s Victory

Guess who’s back on the mission of reposting their old posts? I tweaked this one a little to better reflect my current thoughts. Carry on, good people.

This wasn’t at all my pet project, but I’d been meaning to write this analysis for ages and I just left it on the back burner because time is a thing that sadly only exists in limited quantities. I’d mentioned months ago that I feel like taking the events at the warehouse at face value made odd, arguably out of character assumptions about various players involved. I’d specifically mentioned Mikami Teru back then, but I feel this is true for Near as well.

Now to make something absolutely clear from the start, I don’t hate Near. Let’s just get that straight so this doesn’t obfuscate the point. Near is my favorite Wammy kid and this analysis is not about trying to delegitimize the sheep’s win. The phrasing “Near cheats” is not my own, but rather it’s Obata’s from How to Read 13 in discussing Near’s character. I personally don’t see how it is possible to “cheat” in a game where the rules of engagement are ill-defined in the first place, but that’s just my view of it. The way I see it, Near takes a lot of effort to ensure Kira’s downfall as well as the safety of the people around him, and I think the degree of it is somewhat overlooked. Let’s give the sheep credit where it’s due.

For those who are unfamiliar with Matsuda’s proposed theory about the events that took place at the warehouse, it’s the one he explains in Chapter 108.

So I don’t cap the entire theory, I’ll summarize here. Matsuda puts forth the intriguing theory that Near writes Mikami’s name into the Death Note to prevent him from confirming whether the notebook he brought to the warehouse was real. Lending credence to this theory is the fact that Mikami died after “going crazy” ten days after the events of the warehouse.

I want to talk about this in depth. Matsuda’s theory is shrugged off and dismissed as biased and pointless by Ide, but that doesn’t mean we, the readers, should follow suit in devaluing Matsuda’s reasoning. Personally, I think Matsuda is onto something, and hopefully this post will stir up some interesting conversations!

The circumstances of Mikami’s death are fascinating, but for now let’s hone in on the timing of the man’s death. Assuming for a moment that Near does write Mikami’s name into the notebook, the earliest he could have done so is January 26th 2010 as this is the day Mikami goes to the bank and inadvertently reveals the whereabouts of the real death note to the SPK. Mikami dies February 7th 2010. Thirteen days have passed.

As you’ve probably guessed, what I’m getting at here is the fact that Mikami dies well within the 23 day limit in which a person’s actions can be controlled before their death. That alone is, of course, insufficient to establish any certainty that Near did write Mikami’s name in the note, but it does get you thinking.

As I mentioned previously, in discussing Near’s character in HTR13, Obata states that he thinks Near is the smartest character because he cheats. I find this a curious statement considering we don’t see any explicit evidence of Near cheating anywhere in canon. That said, I’m not terribly fond of using HTR13 as evidence of anything as I think canon ought to take precedence.

However, I do think it’s worth keeping HTR13 mind as it provides some insight into Ohba’s thought process in writing for each character. So let’s take a quick look at Mikami’s HTR13 stats below. Apologies for the low quality on this mangacap; sadly there just aren’t any high quality scans of the English HTR13 around to use.

Of particular note, we have intelligence at 8/10. initiative 8/10, emotional strength at 10/10 and loyalty at 10/10. The absolute numbers aren’t important per se, but I bring them up because Mikami was clearly written to be a smart, driven, resilient and loyal guy.

I’ll come back to the latter traits later, let’s focus on Mikami’s intelligence first. We know the guy is canonically quite sharp. He attends Kyodo University (a reference to Kyoto University – the equivalent of an Ivy League university in Japan) and that he passes the Japanese Bar exam (司法試験 shihō shiken) on his first try. We know this because by the time Kira is first active in November 2003, Mikami is twenty-one, freshly out of college and already a prosecutor.

The Japanese bar, I might add, is notoriously difficult with only a pass rate of 2% prior to 2006 before reforms were implemented. (Source) Mikami was a prosecutor by 2003 so that absurdly low pass rate still applies to him. TL;DR the guy is impressive.

Okay. we’ve established that Mikami clearly has a good head on his shoulders. So next what’s interesting is the fact that Mikami was fully aware that he was actually being followed by Gevanni.

Keep in mind that that for the panels I’m referencing there are three key points to remember:

1. Light and Mikami are actively in correspondence through Kiyomi (Not true in the third referenced scene) 2. Kiyomi is the person doing the actual killings by writing names on the pages of the real notebook that Mikami sends her. 3. Mikami is aware that the plan is to make it appear as though he is responsible for the current Kira killings while he writes in a fake notebook.

So in this scene below where Mikami murders the creep on the train, Mikami is doing it for the benefit of an audience. (And also, lbr, he hates unrighteous chikan too.)

There’s more evidence of this as well. In that sort of infamous scene where OMG MIKAMI IS TALKING TO HIMSELF!!!!!, Mikami is again doing it for the benefit of an audience.

So here he is on the roof of the district attorney’s building, seemingly randomly talking to himself. However, it’s not actually random. Mikami knows Ryuk isn’t there – he can see that just fine for himself. However, it’s important for the people following him to know A) there isn’t a shinigami following him and B) there hasn’t been one following him for a while. Why? Because when the SPK inevitably touch the fake death note he carries around, there needs to be a credible reason for why they don’t see a shinigami materializing before them. They cannot entertain the possibility that there is no shinigami because the note is fake, thus Mikami preemptively explains the discrepancy.

And finally, we have this scene.

For the very first time in the entire period that Gevanni is following Mikami, Mikami shows a sign of awareness that someone could be following him.

So if Mikami is definitely aware that he’s being followed, isn’t it a little odd that Mikami, a man who clearly isn’t afraid to take initiative (see the way he murders Demegawa and Kiyomi without instructions), possesses above average intelligence and knew that his fake death note was being modified by the person following him (he studies it with a microscope), would simply leave the bank empty handed that same day without taking at least a page of the real note with him just in case? Or at the very least, Isn’t it weird that Mikami doesn’t actually test the Death Note on a criminal the next day before showing up at the warehouse just to confirm that the note hadn’t been in any way modified? These are both very simple, logical solutions to problems that are raised by leading Gevanni to the real note. After all, it’s only logical to conclude that whoever is tailing him might try and get access to his bank safety deposit box, discover the real death note and then make sure to neutralize its utility for January 28th.

Of course, what canonically ends up happening is that Mikami doesn’t appear to take a single step to check if the note works or not on January 28th. But it doesn’t really make sense for Mikami to exhibit such a serious lapse in judgment.

At this point, let’s shift gears and talk about Near for a moment because it also doesn’t make sense for Near, who is canonically a genius, to assume that Mikami wouldn’t have done something to ensure that he could kill everyone at the warehouse the following day or that Light wouldn’t have told Mikami to confirm the note worked that morning.

Near, up to that point, had been operating on the assumption that Light is an idiot. It takes Mello kidnapping Kiyomi to inadvertently stir Mikami into action for Near to realize that Light actually wanted Near to be lulled into a false sense of security with Mikami’s predictability. Note that Near also thinks Mikami is an idiot. In Near’s mind, Kira worshippers are idiots by default to Near by virtue of their beliefs, so naturally it doesn’t even cross his mind to question why on earth X-Kira is taking unnecessary risks by killing people while he’s physically at the scene of a crime. Of course, in reality, Mikami had played his part to perfection and had successfully tricked everyone in the SPK, Near included.

After Near learns about the real note, he’s forced to confront the fact that he had completely underestimated both Light and Mikami’s intellects and had played right into Kira’s hands for months. Had Mello not serendipitously made his move, Near and the SPK would have all been murdered. Near admits as much during the confrontation at the warehouse; he’d been so catastrophically wrong about his enemies and it would have cost him everything had he not taken action.

Of course, the action he outright admits to is having Gevanni make a duplicate of the real notebook in Mikami’s safety deposit box and switch the two.

But does it really make logical sense for Near to simply stop there, when he suspects that pages ripped out of the notebook could still have the full capacity to kill? When he knows how easy it would be for Mikami to check if the note works before heading to Daikoku Wharf?

It doesn’t seem particularly in character, at least in my opinion, for Near to simply disregard either possibility and assume Mikami won’t think to do anything at all -- especially not right after his assumptions about his enemies had been proven to be terribly wrong. And in fact, considering this…

….is literally one of the first questions Near asks Ryuk, we know that this possibility was clearly one that Near considered heavily.

And if Near did consider it, he must have accounted for it rather than leaving the results of the warehouse up to chance. It just, again, doesn’t make sense for Near to not have a contingency plan in place precisely because so many lives beside his own were at stake at the warehouse.

The answer that addresses both the conundrum about Mikami’s lapse in judgment and Near’s own strategizing is simple. We’re right back at Matsuda’s theory that Near does write Mikami’s name into the Death Note specifically to prevent any potential Mikami shenanigans from happening on January 28th.

This is easily accomplished by writing something along the lines of:

“Mikami Teru brings the fake notebook from his bank vault to the Yellowbox Warehouse on January 28th. He does not test the note or bring any pages or scraps of the real death note with him to carry out his instructions.”

Personally I think this much is canon. Near is not the type to gamble his life and the lives of the coworkers and the Japanese Task Force members who’d been working tirelessly to put an end to the Kira case on the back of a deeply misguided hope that Mikami didn’t take the most basic of precautions. We know Near is intelligent. For Near to even think “maybe Mikami will be stupid and everything will turn out fine” would show that he has learned nothing from his initial mistake of underestimating his opponents. Put simply; it’s just not like Near to be this stubborn or naive.

Writing Mikami’s name into the note doesn’t appear to go against Near’s ethical codes of conduct either.

As Near himself states in that scene, he’s a pragmatist who doesn’t believe in absolutes in morality. People have to decide for themselves what’s right and what’s wrong. In this case, I think Near would have concluded that putting the lives of innocent people at risk and potentially sending them to the warehouse like lambs to the slaughterhouse when he could eliminate that risk is unjustifiable.

As for why I don’t think Near writes Light’s name into the note, it’s because forcing a confession is meaningless. In other words, Near wants to establish Light’s guilt with evidence not by playing Simon Says. (Plus, if Near had written Light’s name into the note, Ryuk wouldn’t have been able to kill Light himself).

As further food for thought though, if Near does in fact write Mikami’s name into the death note, this leads to some really interesting questions about what else Near wrote into the notebook to control Mikami’s actions as well as how Mikami dies.

From here on out, this is purely speculative on my part, but I’m bringing it up because this is fun and I’m really curious to know what other people’s thoughts are on this.

Think back to Mikami’s HTR13 stats from before, 10/10 loyalty, 10/10 emotional strength and the fact that we see neither of his dominant traits on display at the warehouse considering he has a meltdown and calls god “trash.” Additionally think back to what Matsuda says about Mikami’s death. He “went crazy“ and died. Of course, psychosis isn’t a cause of death, but it can lead to tremendously self-injurious behaviors and suicidality, which is what I assume Matsuda meant.

Here you may be wondering why would Near write this? Well, he does actually benefit from Mikami’s insanity. See, if Mikami is simply remembered as “that lunatic” people then are naturally disinclined to analyze Mikami’s behavior in depth. (“So what Mikami was acting weirdly at the warehouse, he was clearly a mad man.”) Or in other words, it helps cover up tracks that perhaps Near didn’t want made apparent.

There are some cues in the warehouse scene itself that suggest that Mikami is already unravelling at the warehouse even before Light’s downfall. Mikami pulling all sorts of crazed expressions is basically a meme in the fandom, so a lot of people are aware that the way Mikami physically looks and presents himself is completely different from how he usually carried himself prior to that point.

Take for example, Mikami’s usual pleasant expression.

He scowls a lot and is generally well put together. Composed, if you will.

And this is the expression Mikami pulls when he confirms that god is real.

This is arguably one of the best moments of Mikami’s entire life and it’s still a normal facial expression as facial expressions go.

Next this is Teru’s face when he’s literally speaking to god on the phone and is already acting as god’s right hand.

Again this is arguably one of the best moments of Mikami’s life. You can tell he’s thrilled and excited about this, but again, it’s not twisted, it’s not alarming. He still has that composure to him with his hand placed respectfully over his chest as he pledges his loyalty to Kira.

And then we have this outlier.

Seriously. Who is this guy and which circle of hell did he come from?

Granted there is a tremendous amount of context that needs to be accounted for in this panel because this is, after all, the moment that Mikami has been chosen, hand picked by god, to eliminate his enemies!! The Dream!! There is no question that it’s the highest honour of his entire life….

…And yet there’s a total disruption in the way he presents himself. He smiles manically, he looks unhinged and about ready to unravel at the seams — and it makes one wonder if “went crazy” was something that was already happening right before everyone’s eyes.

So if Mikami was specifically written into the note to apparently have a psychotic break and die ten days later, it raises an interesting question. How much of Mikami’s behavior in the warehouse was a product of Mikami’s own volition?

Were the sakujogasms a lie?! /soblol.

Thanks for reading!

#tery mikami #nate river #death note #analysis #BROUGHT THIS BACK #touta matsuda

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