#so there’s no point in searching for answers that don’t exist anymore

[ari-orangebox-collection]

When the test subject they told you was aggressive is actually just angsty and autistic

.

I figured if Wheatley were a human he would probably be part of a team that cares for test subjects. Which involves basic medical checkups and general wellness checks. Maybe in Chells case, since she’s so anti-social, he was tasked to be a sort of companion so they could get more information out of her for testing purposes. :3 he’s classified as a nurse and has basic training in it. But he’s not making sense because he’s kinda scared of Chell at first. She just thinks he’s weird and kinda smells bad.

.

I have a hc on why Chell is a test subject I’m just gonna try to write it here

Basically her mother was too young and poor to raise a child so she felt it better to put Chell up for adoption. The orphanage she was raised in was being used by aperture to scout out children with certain “exceptional skills”. They noticed that Chell was highly intelligent and a great problem solver, but had no interest in spending time with others. She had no friends. And none of the other children noticed or cared when she left. She was probably adopted by a high ranking scientist and raised for the specific purpose of testing. She has little concept of social norms or things outside of aperture because she was taken from a “normal” environment so young. [like. Before she was 10 maybe? Idk.] but it doesn’t mean she’s dumb or anything, she just doesn’t really get it yk. Sorry if this is actually so stupid and embarrassing ignore me

[norristrii]

ALL THE BOYS I LOVED BEFORE.

Your brother Carlos, tired of watching you endure heartbreak after heartbreak, couldn’t bear to see his little sister unhappy anymore. In his determination to cheer you up, he began to wonder if his best friend might just be the perfect match for you.

pairing. Lando Norris x Sainz! fem! reader.

warnings. none.

YOUR LOVE LIFE FELT LIKE A CRUEL JOKE, an endless parade of failed attempts that left you questioning your own worth. It wasn’t just heartbreak—it was the creeping fear that maybe you were the problem, that perhaps you were unlovable. The thought took root deep in your mind, leaving you wondering what you were doing wrong. Was it something about you that scared people away? Or was love simply not meant for you?

But through it all, Carlos never let you wallow in self-doubt for long. As your older brother, he refused to let you believe there was anything wrong with you. “It’s not you,” he’d say, his words firm, almost stubborn. “It’s them. Just a bunch of idiots who don’t deserve you.” His unwavering support was both comforting and amusing, and even though his bluntness often made you laugh, deep down, his words gave you strength.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder, even as you smiled at Carlos’s efforts to cheer you up. Somewhere out there, was someone made for you? Someone who could love you the way Carlos believed you deserved to be loved? That little spark of hope kept you moving forward, searching for a connection that didn’t feel like a mistake waiting to happen. One day, you told yourself. One day, maybe you’d find them. Until then, at least you had your brother to remind you that the idiots weren’t worth your tears.

And to your surprise, the answer to Carlos’ scheming might have been closer than you ever imagined. Or, at least, that’s what Carlos believed.

Lando. Carlos’s long-time best friend, the guy who was practically a permanent fixture in your life. Sure, he was hot—those sharp features and that effortless charm weren’t exactly easy to ignore. And yeah, he was funny, with that playful banter and endless sarcasm that could make anyone laugh. But to you, he was nothing more than your brother’s best friend. That was the unspoken rule, the line that you’d never even thought about crossing.

But Carlos? Oh, Carlos had a different perspective. In his mind, it all made perfect sense. Lando wasn’t just his best friend; he was loyal, protective, and maybe even a little too cocky for his own good. And you? You needed someone who could keep up with you, someone who could challenge you but also be there for you without fail. To him, it was like a match written in the stars.

Maybe Carlos was onto something, or maybe he was just meddling. Either way, his genius idea had been planted, and once Carlos made up his mind about something, there was no stopping him. Perhaps the line you thought existed between you and Lando wasn’t as solid as you’d imagined. And maybe, just maybe, Carlos’s crazy little plan wasn’t so crazy after all.

It was typical of Carlos—always managing to drag you into something you swore you’d hate. And here you were, standing in the middle of a pristine golf course, the sun beaming down as a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. The idea of spending an afternoon playing golf with Carlos and Lando had seemed laughable at first. Golf? Really? You’d never understood the appeal of chasing after tiny white balls with oversized sticks. But, somehow, Carlos had convinced you it would be fun. Spoiler: it wasn’t.

Carlos, of course, was thriving, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling with every swing. His laughter carried across the course, his playful taunts adding to your growing frustration. Lando, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as gleeful. Instead, he seemed content to watch from the sidelines, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he offered the occasional unhelpful tip.

“Try holding it like this,” he suggested at one point, demonstrating with exaggerated precision. You followed his advice, only for the ball to roll a pathetic two feet ahead. Carlos burst into laughter, practically doubling over, while Lando tried—and failed—to keep a straight face.

You groaned, gripping the golf club tighter as you prepared for another attempt. “This is torture,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at your brother, who was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Carlos shrugged, his grin unapologetic. “It’s called bonding,” he replied casually, as if that made the humiliation worthwhile.

Lando stepped closer, his smirk softening into something resembling sympathy. “For what it’s worth, you’re better than I thought you’d be,” he said, clearly lying but trying to sound convincing. The teasing glance he shot Carlos didn’t escape you, though —it was clear he was enjoying this just as much as your brother.

You rolled your eyes, your frustration mingling with reluctant amusement. This wasn’t how you’d imagined your vacation, but somehow, it didn’t feel entirely terrible. As much as you hated golf, the laughter and teasing brought a strange sense of comfort—a reminder that, despite everything, you were surrounded by people who cared about you, even if their definition of bonding involved public embarrassment on a golf course.

Carlos let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Oh my god, Y/n, are you even my sister?” he said, clearly enjoying every second of your frustration. His teasing grin widened as he stepped closer, pretending to assess your stance again. “You suck,” he added, the bluntness of his words making you groan loudly.

You narrowed your eyes at him, fed up with his constant jabs. “Well, if you’re so good, show me!” you shot back, your voice sharp as you grabbed the golf club with both hands and thrust it toward him. The force of your gesture caught him off guard, and he raised his hands in defense, laughing as he took the club from you.

“Alright, alright,” he said, still chuckling as he stepped up to take his position. “Let me show you how it’s done,” his smug tone only fueled your irritation, but part of you was curious to see if he’d actually live up to all the talk.

Lando leaned casually against his own club nearby, watching the exchange with a smirk. “Go on, Carlos, impress us,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. Between Carlos’s endless teasing and Lando’s sly comments, the whole situation was ridiculous.

Carlos stood there, his posture full of exaggerated confidence as he stretched out dramatically. “You need to be focused,” he announced, his tone dripping with self-importance as if he were some kind of golf guru. You rolled your eyes, already anticipating some kind of mishap, but you let him have his moment.

With a practiced stance, he lined up his shot, taking his sweet time as if the world was waiting for his golfing masterpiece. The swing was smooth, the ball connecting with the club perfectly—and for a brief second, you thought maybe, he’d nailed it. The ball soared gracefully through the air, catching the light like a beacon of hope.

And then… straight into the woods.

Your laughter exploded before you could stop it, a sharp and genuine reaction to the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. “Wow, Carlos,” you said, your tone dripping with amusement as you struggled to catch your breath. “That was… that was impressive. Are you trying to start a career in forestry?”

Carlos groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he squinted toward the trees. “It’s the wind,” he muttered in defense, but the slight blush creeping up his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Meanwhile, Lando nearly doubled over laughing, leaning on his golf club for support.

“You know what?” you said, flashing a sly smile as an idea struck you. This was the perfect opportunity to escape the humiliation of the golf course—at least for a little while. “I think I’m gonna get it,” you added with feigned determination, already planning your retreat. Sure, you probably had at least ten more golf balls, but that wasn’t the point. You needed an out, and this was your ticket.

Carlos didn’t even look up from the app he was fiddling with, muttering something distractedly about “good luck” as he waved you off. But Lando, standing just a few feet away, wasn’t about to let you slip away unnoticed. His smirk widened as he leaned slightly toward you, his golf club resting lightly against his shoulder. “Maybe I should go with you,” he said smoothly, his tone playful yet deliberate. “What if you get lost?”

"Yeah, right," you replied with a playful smirk, sarcasm dripping from your tone. "I need my prince to save me." The joke was meant to be lighthearted, just another quip to match the teasing vibe of the day. But even as the words left your lips, you found yourself quietly savoring this moment. Somehow, it made the whole golf catastrophe feel a little more bearable. At least Carlos was getting a kick out of it, his exasperated laughter echoing faintly in the background.

Lando, however, wasn’t about to let your words go unanswered. His grin widened, confidence oozing from his every movement as he shifted closer, his presence magnetic and hard to ignore. “Exactly,” he shot back, his voice smooth and deliberate, carrying just the right amount of playful arrogance. “Every beautiful princess deserves her handsome prince.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, sinking into your mind before you could brush them off. Beautiful princess? Handsome prince? Did he really just say that? And the way his smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—so self-assured, so annoyingly charming—made your heart skip, even if you refused to admit it.

Your brain worked quickly to dismiss the thought. No. No, no, no. This was Lando, your brother’s best friend—the guy who had practically been a second annoying sibling at times. And yet... damn it. The worst part wasn’t the comment. It wasn’t even his confident delivery. No, the worst part was that he wasn’t wrong. He really was handsome, in that infuriating, effortless way that made it hard to look away.

Fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks, you forced yourself to roll your eyes, putting on your best mask of indifference. “Keep dreaming, Prince Charming,” you retorted, your voice firm but laced with humor, determined not to let him see the way his words affected you.

Lando’s smirk only widened, his amusement evident as he leaned casually on his golf club. He didn’t need to say anything else—he’d already gotten the reaction he wanted. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t entirely suppress the small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Annoying as he was, Lando always knew exactly how to push your buttons. The problem was, you were starting to wonder if you didn’t mind quite as much as you used to.

You and Lando moved quietly toward the tree line, the hum of the golf cart fading behind you where Carlos sat engrossed in whatever had captured his attention on his phone. The air between you and Lando was heavy with unspoken words, the kind of silence that stretched on just a bit too long. You wanted to say something, to break the quiet and fill the space with anything other than the sound of your own footsteps. But the words just wouldn’t come.

Thankfully, Lando beat you to it. “How are you enjoying vacation?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet as the two of you stepped beneath the canopy of trees.

His tone was casual, but there was a curious edge to it, as though he genuinely cared about your answer. You glanced at him, his expression soft and relaxed, the playful smirk from earlier now replaced with something a little more sincere. The sunlight filtering through the branches danced across his features, and for a moment, you forgot the irritation golf had caused earlier.

“I mean, other than humiliating myself on a golf course?” you replied with a faint smile, the lightness in your tone matching his. “It’s been... not bad.” You hesitated, then added, “Surprisingly decent, actually.” The admission surprised even you, but it wasn’t a lie. Lando’s teasing had made the day a lot more tolerable than you’d expected.

He chuckled softly at your response, his eyes flicking over to meet yours. “See? It’s not all bad,” he said, a hint of that trademark charm slipping back into his voice. “Maybe Carlos wasn’t entirely wrong dragging us out here after all.”

You shrugged, brushing a stray branch out of your way. “Maybe,” you admitted quietly, though your mind lingered on how much of your enjoyment had less to do with Carlos and more to do with the person standing beside you.

The forest seemed quieter now, the sounds of your footsteps mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. The playful banter from earlier had given way to a more comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. You focused on the path ahead, brushing aside stray branches, until Lando’s voice broke the quiet.

“I know this might sound a bit weird,” he started, his tone unusually tentative. You glanced over at him, surprised to see his expression softer, almost shy. He looked ahead as he spoke, his grip tightening slightly on the golf club he still carried. “But... are you, uh, talking to someone?”

His question caught you off guard. Lando wasn’t exactly the type to beat around the bush, so this hesitation was... unexpected. And endearing. You blinked, processing his words as your mind raced. Was he actually asking? Did he care if you had someone? The thought stirred something in you, though you quickly pushed it aside, opting for humor instead of overthinking.

“Maximally with you now,” you replied lightly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your tone carried a hint of amusement, but there was no denying the truth behind your words. Your love life was, well, nonexistent. It was a fact you’d come to accept—laughing at it was easier than lingering on the ache it sometimes brought.

Lando turned his gaze towards you, his lips curving into a small, thoughtful smile. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, a flicker of emotion that almost made your heart skip. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was something more.

The question escaped your lips before you had a chance to second-guess it. “And you?” you asked, your tone steady but laced with curiosity. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to make the moment feel heavier than it already did. Sure, it was casual—just a question. But deep down, you couldn’t deny that you genuinely wanted to know.

Lando hesitated for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening slightly on his golf club. His smirk faltered briefly, replaced by an expression that was harder to read. Was that shyness? Vulnerability? You couldn’t tell, and it only made you more intrigued.

“Me?” he echoed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced sideways at you. He cleared his throat lightly, and for once, his usual confidence seemed tinged with uncertainty. “No, not really,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his echo of your earlier words, the sound light and genuine. There was something comforting in his answer, something that made the corners of your mouth lift without effort. The way he looked at you now—calm, unguarded—felt different. More genuine. And it left you wondering, for the first time, if there was more to him than the teasing grin and the clever remarks.

For reasons you couldn’t entirely explain, this felt easier—lighter—than anything you’d ever experienced before. All the boys you’d loved before had left a trail of complicated emotions, fractured hopes, and moments you’d rather forget. Each had been so differently flawed, so carelessly capable of turning something that once felt beautiful into something that left scars. Those experiences had planted seeds of doubt in your mind, making you question whether love could ever truly feel natural. But walking alongside Lando now, sharing easy laughter and playful banter among the quiet trees, it didn’t feel forced or complicated. It felt... right. Like it was meant to unfold this way, no pretense or pressure, just the simplicity of two people enjoying the moment.

“Maybe we should—” Lando began, his voice soft and uncharacteristically hesitant. It wasn’t the teasing tone you’d grown used to; this felt different, more careful, as if he was trying to choose the perfect words. You glanced toward him, curious, but before he could finish, something caught your eye.

“I have it!” you shouted suddenly, your attention snagged by the small, bright ball nestled among the leaves. You hurried forward, triumphant, as though finding it somehow made up for your earlier lackluster golfing attempts. Your excitement carried you into the moment, oblivious to the way Lando faltered mid-sentence.

He blinked, startled, before letting out a soft chuckle at your interruption. There was something warm in his laughter, a fondness you hadn’t quite noticed before. Turning back to face him, you realized what had just happened. “Uh, sorry,” you said quickly, embarrassment tinging your voice as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “What did you say?”

Lando hesitated for a beat, as though weighing whether or not to repeat himself. Then, his gaze met yours, steady and unflinching. “I said maybe we should go out sometime,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, as if he were letting the words settle between you.

The air shifted subtly in that moment. His question hung there, simple but impossible to ignore. For a second, you could only look at him, the sincerity in his expression catching you off guard. This wasn’t banter or teasing—it was honest, unfiltered. And in the quiet pause that followed, you realized just how much weight those few words carried.

“Yeah, we definitely should,” you said, your lips curving into an easy smile. The words came out naturally, without hesitation, as though they’d been waiting there, just beneath the surface, ready to be spoken. The warmth in your voice matched the way you felt—surprised, maybe even a little nervous, but undeniably intrigued.

Lando’s expression softened at your response, his usual cocky grin replaced by something gentler, something more sincere. He seemed almost surprised himself, as if he hadn’t quite expected you to agree so easily. For a moment, the two of you stood there in the woods, the trees around you swaying gently in the breeze, creating a little cocoon of quiet away from the rest of the world.

“Well,” he said after a beat, his voice light but carrying an unmistakable trace of relief. “I’m looking forward, then.” His smirk reappeared, though it was softer now, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he added, “Just promise me one thing—you won’t make me take you golfing.”

© norristrii 2025

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Unfinished Business (Final Part)

Rating: Mature audience

Pairing: Jada Williams x Reader

Fandom: Arizona women’s basketball

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: staying is a lot better…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @paigeluvvr

Pt1 Pt2

⸻

I wanted to believe things were finally falling into place.

Jada wasn’t running anymore. She wasn’t shutting me out or pretending like I didn’t exist. We weren’t fixed overnight, but we were talking again—really talking.

It started slow.

Small moments—sharing protein bars before practice, sitting next to each other on the bus during away games, lingering after practice like neither of us wanted to say goodbye.

But with every step forward, I could still feel the weight of our past pressing down on us.

Because for all the progress we made, we were still walking on the edge of something unspoken.

Something unfinished.

And the truth was—I was tired of waiting.

⸻

It happened after a game against Stanford.

We won, but barely. It was a fight to the last second, and by the time the final buzzer rang, we were exhausted. The locker room was filled with the usual post-game energy—music blasting, laughter, the smell of Gatorade and sweat.

I was sitting on the bench, untying my shoes when Jada sat down next to me.

“Hell of a game,” she said, nudging me lightly with her knee.

I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, thanks for the assist.”

She smirked. “You would’ve missed without me.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, one of our teammates walked by.

“Y’all are basically a married couple at this point,” she teased.

Jada tensed beside me.

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, we just play well together.”

But the words tasted bitter in my mouth.

Jada didn’t say anything.

And that’s when I knew.

This thing between us—the lingering touches, the looks, the history—it wasn’t enough.

Not if she was still scared of what we could be.

⸻

Later that night, I knocked on Jada’s door.

She answered in sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft.

I stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

She closed the door behind me, brows furrowing. “What’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “What are we doing?”

Jada blinked. “What?”

I turned to face her, crossing my arms. “We’ve been playing this game for weeks. Acting like we’re something but never saying it out loud.”

She exhaled slowly, leaning against the door. “I thought we were taking things slow.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re hesitating. And I’m tired of pretending that doesn’t hurt.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Then tell me the truth,” I said, stepping closer. “Do you want this? Because I do, Jada. I always have.”

Silence.

Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to find a way out.

But there wasn’t one.

Not this time.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard. “Of what?”

“Of losing you again.”

I frowned. “Jada—”

“You left once,” she said, cutting me off. “When you transferred. And yeah, I pushed you away before that, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell when you were gone.”

I inhaled sharply. “You could’ve told me that.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “And say what? ‘I miss you, but I was too much of a coward to fight for us the first time’? You deserved better than that.”

I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I deserved the truth. And so do you.”

Her eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable. “The truth?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She hesitated. Then—

“I love you.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs.

Jada swallowed hard. “I think I always have. That’s why it scared me so much. That’s why I ran.”

I felt my chest tighten. “Jada…”

She looked away. “You don’t have to say it back. I just—I needed you to know.”

I took her face in my hands, gently tilting her chin up so she’d look at me.

“I love you too.”

We stood there for a heartbeat longer, foreheads touching, breathing in the shared scent of vanilla and anticipation.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Jada reached for my hand, her fingers interlacing with mine. The simple gesture sent a shiver down my spine, a potent reminder of the intimacy we were about to explore.

"Come on," she murmured, tugging me gently towards the living room. The apartment was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. We sank onto the plush sofa, the cushions yielding beneath our weight.

The silence that followed was not awkward, but charged with unspoken longing. Jada turned to face me, her eyes dark pools reflecting the flickering candlelight. She reached out, her fingers tracing the curve of my cheekbone, sending sparks of pleasure through my veins.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion.

"Me too," I confessed, my own voice trembling slightly.

With a shared breath, we closed the remaining distance between us. Our lips met in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, a culmination of weeks of suppressed desires.

Jada's tongue danced with mine, exploring every contour, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both.

Her hands moved from my face to my neck, then down to my chest, her touch sending shivers of anticipation through my body. I arched into her touch, craving more, needing more.

I reciprocated, my hands exploring the soft curve of her waist, the smooth skin of her back. I could feel her tremble beneath my touch, a sign of the desire that mirrored my own.

The kiss deepened, becoming more demanding, more insistent. We broke apart gasping for air, our eyes locked in a silent conversation of longing and surrender.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Jada whispered, her voice thick with desire.

I nodded, unable to speak, my heart pounding in my chest. We rose from the sofa, hand in hand, and made our way to the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation.

Jada turned to face me, her eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Are you sure about this?" she asked softly.

"More than anything," I replied, my voice unwavering.

With that, the last vestiges of hesitation melted away. Jada reached for the hem of my shirt and slowly, deliberately, pulled it over my head. I stood before her, bare-chested, my skin tingling with anticipation.

Her eyes roamed over my body, lingering on the curves of my breasts, the swell of my hips. I felt a blush creep up my neck, but I held her gaze, refusing to look away.

She reached out and gently cupped my breasts, her thumbs teasing my nipples. A moan escaped my lips, and I arched into her touch, craving more.

I returned the favor, unbuttoning her shirt and sliding it off her shoulders. Her breasts were full and round, her nipples erect and begging to be touched. I leaned in and gently kissed one nipple, then the other, savoring the taste and texture of her skin.

Jada moaned and threaded her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer. We fell back onto the bed, our bodies entwined, our desires unleashed.

Her hand trailed down my stomach, sending shivers of anticipation through my body. She reached for the button of my jeans and slowly, deliberately, unfastened it. I sucked in a breath as she slid the zipper down, her fingers brushing against my skin.

I reached for her jeans and did the same, our movements clumsy with desire. Soon, we were both naked, our bodies pressed together, skin against skin.

Jada leaned down and kissed me again, her tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. Her hands roamed over my body, teasing, caressing, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both.

I returned the favor, my hands exploring the curves of her body, savoring the feel of her skin beneath

my fingertips. We were lost in a world of sensation, our bodies communicating in a language of touch and desire.

She trailed kisses down my neck, my chest, my stomach, each kiss sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I moaned and arched into her touch, craving more.

Her lips found their way to my inner thigh, and I gasped as she began to nibble and tease. I gripped the sheets, my body trembling with anticipation.

"Jada," I moaned, my voice barely audible.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with desire. "Is this okay?" she whispered.

"Yes," I gasped, "please."

She lowered her head again and began to lick and suck, her tongue working its magic. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the pleasure, my body arching off the bed.

I ran my fingers through her hair, urging her on, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The sensations were overwhelming, intense, almost unbearable.

Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, she found my clit and began to tease it with her tongue. A wave of pleasure washed over me, and I cried out as I reached the edge.

I convulsed beneath her touch, my body shaking with release. Jada continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of pleasure from me.

Finally, the waves subsided, and I lay panting, my body weak and trembling.

Jada lifted her head and looked at me, her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I whispered, "that was incredible."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss me again, her lips lingering on mine.

"There's more to come," she whispered

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[suguru-getos]

— soft yandere suguru geto pt 1 —

-> building the story in this one. warnings: none! the reader meets suguru for the first time since her best friend was encapsulated by a curse causing nightmares and issues. it’s fluffy <3

suguru had one goal — irradicate the non-sorcerers so there comes to be a world without curses. satoru on the other hand wanted to make people capable enough to fight the curses. the goal was same - a world where curses don’t exist anymore. suguru was hell-bent on achieving that of course. gaining fame as ‘geto sama’ a monk-looking saintly human being who helps people. the backgrounds are for suguru to handle anyways - he needed curses to get powerful & eventually achieve his goals.

his hatred for monkeys was unsubstantiated. no one who was not in control of their cursed energies would be spared by suguru geto. he didn’t even spare his parents. though he knows certain monkeys are slightly more valuable than others. some are his banks, some give him curses to swallow. and some are the ones who have no control of their CE and end up attracting higher curses/creating them.

what he didn’t take into account was you. your best friend was tormented by sickening nightmares of being non-conned almost everyday. aches in the back, cramping and utter pain during her period. you had almost given up — as her roommate, you had searched all psychologists; all doctors. nothing seems to be working. until one day — you found a ‘monkey’ treated by none other than geto sama.

without wasting time, you believed their gratefulness and their willingness to lend you the address. since nothing is working — you will definitely try anything at this point.

the moment your car landed on the geto estate you knew this man was no joke. why else would he be able to afford something like this otherwise? on the other hand — you were suspicious as to his ulterior motives. what if he was a mafia boss or something? who knew. finally, after some wait; you were advised to follow the instructor who led you to suguru geto.

he sat there, a merry & a friendly smile over his face. something that’s practised even as he talks to your friend. “yumiko san.” he grins, “you have symptoms like rape nightmares, don’t you? you feel like you’re being touched in the wrong places & there’s nothing you can do about it?” your best friend teared up, she had never felt so intricately seen and heard the way geto had made her feel. he raised a hand, and the curse that was latched into her, unseen by you. unseen by her.. latched itself into suguru’s hand.

she instantly felt lighter & felt better. while you were extremely considerate of what suguru geto did, you were not pleased. what even was that — you and your best friend bowed and on your way to leave. you turned back, “what did you do?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“ah, i have god’s grace in my hands thankfully. nothing much. prayed on her behalf that her problems go away. little one.” he hums, monkeys are usually dumb enough to be happy-go-lucky with the treatment. you weren’t. suguru hums, “if that’d be all, you may leave. i have other things to cater to.”

your siren eyes met his own, deep down. you could sense suguru hated your best friend. it was just a hunch— the vibes were so off. you hum, “what do you practise then? what form of meditation?” you crossed your arms, eagerly wagering for more answers on his behalf.

suguru chuckled in disbelief, an insignificant, puny monkey was asking ‘him’ questions? “be grateful and leave.” he said dismissively. and your best friend held your wrist, dragging you outside. you were adorable and so curious. pity you were just an ordinary, low-class monkey.

“he’s a scammer, a fraud! i’m fucking sure! let’s go to a doctor.” you scoffed, gritting your teeth. glaring daggers at the man who laid down in front of you on a stage, seemingly uninterested. suguru wanted to play with you too, the same curse that was latched onto your friend, he transferred it into you, going out. now you’d have the same symptoms and suffer. shouldn’t have voiced your shit so hard, tsk…

unfortunately for suguru, you ended up like one of those who can see curses once subjected to cursed energy. you screamed gutterally when you saw the hideous creature attached to you. an amused smirk ran past his lips at the way you tried to shove it away. your friend was in utter confusion — what did she do? got on her knees and apologized on your behalf to ‘geto sama’ who promised to treat you. and forgive you of course. forcing her to leave.

you screeched curses and profanities at suguru, who was more than pleased to see you hit some sort of a standard he has for people he’s allowed to care about. his hand touched your crotch, right where the curse was supposed to be holding, unconcerned with your flustered resistance as he absorbed it.

“there we go, little girl.” he smiled, while you watched the curse turn into a ball. “this is the thing that was latched onto your friend. normal humans can’t see these. some of them can. i can.” you sat next to him and asked him a multitude of questions about this. you don’t remember the last time you had talked to someone this much & suguru doesn’t remember the last time he was so thoughtless. he was observing literally everything. your facial features, the way your brows scrunched when you emphasized over something, how you overcommunicated with your hands at times, rolled your eyes ever so often and shook your legs while you asked questions and waited eagerly for your answers. you blinked and your lashes looked so long and luscious, your hair suited you just well. he wonders how your soft looking skin would look all marked up with hickeys. he wonders how your voice would sound when you would moan or scream out his name. he wonders how his name would sound. how your lips would curve a certain way to pronounce ‘suguru’. oh he’s slowly losing his mind isn’t he?

he asked you to stay the night and join for dinner since it was quite late because of everything he just told you. you of course obliged and met his adopted daughters, miguel and the others who he called family. holy fuck they worshipped him. you knew that because of the way they respected you — treated you as their own because suguru said you are a guest today. his daughters were bratty but they knew their limits; seems like suguru raised them well.

after dinner, you joined him for a walk outside, pouting and flushed because he wasn’t wearing his gojo-gesa anymore. he almost looks so normal with that. “you aren’t an actual monk are you?” you raised a brow, grinning when he shook his head in denial. “no, i’m just here to collect cursed spirits because of my technique for a greater cause.” he hums; replying gently and looking deeply into your inquisitive eyes. you threw another question at him, seemingly obvious. “what greater cause?” you tilt your head like an indulged bird, and he caught that gesture. “want to know everything at once? hmm? little bird.” he smiled, looking relaxed and like a normal human being. “i’ll let you know with time.”

you had a peaceful and a sound sleep, why? because you were unaware how suguru watched you sleep in awe. just thinking of the ways he would watch you smile again, just thinking how he could make you feel special again? he can brain wash you into thinking humans are detestable, no?

the next morning, you were called for breakfast and had a great time, making promises to visit again while suguru bid you a farewell by kissing your knuckles. looking ever so charming. oh you will visit again, otherwise suguru geto would: either way… your red thread of fate was sealed.

suguru geto had a little crush…

or was he in love?

[aydience-world]

Kai Chisaki's past headcanons

Since we won’t be getting any additional info anymore and for the sake of my own sanity, I have decided to create my own headcanon of Kai Chisaki’s past in detail and how he came to be the man we know as Overhaul based on the few crumbs we got in the manga. 

*Kai was born to a less than average income family and his parents also have similar deconstruct or reassemble quirks, although to much more limited matter.

*Overhaul is a complex quirk and young Kai initially struggled, especially with the reconstruction part. He would attempt to break down and repair his toys but fail more often than not. His parents were uncaring and did not make any effort to support or help their son improve his skill.

*A freak accident happens one day and Kai accidentally deconstructs one of his parents. Frightened, he tries to undo this accident but fails and his parent ends up completely disfigured. The remaining parent freaks out and says some atrocious things to him, similar words Overhaul used to say to Eri. (Ex. “Your existence is a curse”, etc.). I hc this happened when he was around 6-7 years old.

*Following this incident, the remaining parent takes their broken spouse and Kai to a quirk doctor, Dr Garaki, or another doctor associated with him. The doctor takes great interest in Kai’s ability and sees him as a potential candidate as one of AFO’s spare children. The parent wants to get rid of Kai asap and the doctor gladly takes him into the orphanage. Kai would be living there for several years.

*In the orphanage, Kai has to undergo a series of tests and exercises by making him use his quirk on objects, lab animals and sometimes even other children. This is where Kai begins to become more proficient in using his quirk, on both physical and living matter.

*The abandonment from his parents and the grotesque nature of the experiments causes Kai to fall into deep depression and existential crisis. At this point in his life, he hates his quirk and wonders why he was born with it, why was he born at all? He starts questioning everything. Where does this ability come from? Why do people like him exist? Why is the world this way in the first place?

*During one of the experiments, Kai brings up one of his questions to Dr Garaki, who answers what scientists currently know and while there is no concrete evidence, there are several theories, one of them being the mice theory which deduces that quirks are a virus originating from mice. He refers Kai to the small library in the orphanage.

*Kai then proceeds to read several books and science journals about this quirk phenomenon to understand the origin of quirks and the current state of humanity and studies the mice theory. To him, it all comes together. Quirks are a plague, a virus which comes from dirty animals which explains why quirks mutate so rapidly. Among all the material he has read, this had to be the truth because it made the most sense.  The reason why he’s the way he is and the reason why his parents abandoned him. He realized they are all infected and quirks don’t have any cure. This realization drives him into a frenzy and he develops a germaphobia, specifically against quirk users, since they will always remind him of the mice theory.

*Due to his phobia, Kai develops a further disgust for people and keeps to himself, avoiding other children in the orphanage.  He prefers to keep to himself and read books, learning new things about science and the world. He never formed any meaningful relationships in the orphanage.

*After some time Tenko was born, AFO began searching for the right quirk in the orphanages that he could give him to make Tenko an ultimate weapon of destruction and hate. Thanks to all the tests and experiments, Kai’s quirk catches AFO’s attention and he instructs Garaki to make a stronger copy of Overhaul but remove the reassemble part since the quirk should only be used to destroy.

*This time, Garaki needs to restrain Kai in order to extract his quirk genes to make a copy that focuses on the deconstruction part and enhance it, which would eventually become Decay. This would be done by Dr Garaki extracting blood and small pieces of flesh from Kai.

*Now, this experiment was not simply just to make a copy and remove the secondary function, the deconstruction part needed to be much more destructive at a much faster rate and unlike Overhaul, which only affects a single target, Decay has to affect multiple targets through a domino effect. It takes numerous tries to achieve this outcome. Other children would be given the copy to test it and many would perish in the creation of this quirk.

*The continuous pain and physical contact during the experiment leaves Kai in a frenzy and he completely breaks out in hives multiple times throughout the process. Regardless, the experiment continues until Decay turns out the way Garaki and AFO envision. This trauma continues until adulthood and he now breaks out in hives whenever someone touches him.

*At last, Decay is complete and AFO proceeds to give it to Tenko. Garaki doesn’t bother healing Kai because he knows Kai can fix himself. He is released back into the orphanage but has to stay there in case AFO needs any adjustments. He is still traumatized from the experiment and hates his quirk even more. He blames his quirk more than Garaki.

*Tenko’s quirk activated for the first time which meant the experiment was a success for AFO and Garaki. AFO informs Garaki about the progress and he leaves the orphanage to help him with the preparations of grooming Tenko. (Tenko was 5 years old when this happened so Kai is 12 at this point). A substitute is assigned to the orphanage during Garaki’s absence but they don’t really come through. Only a handful of kids are left since most of them died during the creation of Decay. With all the attention on Tenko, the children left at the orphanage are neglected and left to starve.

*Eventually Kai has enough and uses his quirk to escape. He runs into the night, not looking back or stopping until his legs can’t take it anymore. He wonders why he didn’t escape sooner but realizes he has nowhere to go and wanders aimlessly alone through the streets at night.

*He has a small panic attack and hives outbreak but this is overshadowed by hunger and fatigue. Eventually exhaustion takes over and he slumps down against a wall in an alley, falling asleep on the street.

*He wakes up the next morning, covered in dust and dirt from the ground but the raging hunger is too distracting to care. He looks for food but no one is willing to help this dirty kid. He considers going through trash but can’t bring himself to and goes on hungry.

*It’s already afternoon and only then does someone notice Kai. A middle-aged man calls his attention, offering to help him get home. Realizing this child doesn’t have a home, he adopts Kai and makes him part of the Shie Hassaikai.  To Kai, this act of kindness would never be forgotten and swore to himself he would repay this kindness no matter what.

*The life of a yakuza is not exactly the most suitable environment for a child/teen to grow up in, and “affection” would be shown through tough love or ’roughing up until set straight’. (The traditional Asian way).  Pops did attempt to ask Kai about his past but Kai’s answers are very vague so Pops does not pry further. The trauma doesn’t get addressed and shows some behavioral problems from him later on.

*Kai eventually befriends Kurono Hari who grew up with the Shie Hassaikai. Hari shows Kai the ropes of being a yakuza, and also gives him tips about the gangster life. Kai quickly adapts into his new home and Hari becomes his closest and most trusted friend, joining and supporting whatever Kai comes up with.

*Kai truly cherishes Pops and his new home, to the point that he gets into fights with other kids for insulting his new home, or comparing them to villains, who he considers sick. Pops thanks him for defending the Shie Hassaikai’s honor and Kai makes this his life mission. As mentioned before, Pops showed affection through a “tough love” style, so hearing praise like this was rare. Kai secretly craved to be given more appreciation and affection, which is something he never received as a child, and the reason why he goes far and beyond just to ‘repay his debt’ to Pops.

*Eventually, Kai comes to terms with his “infection”. The quirk he blamed for his abandonment and suffering is now seen as a tool he needs to use to defend the Shie Hassaikai. And he knows his quirk makes him powerful. He needs this power to protect his home and become the man the Shie Hassaikai needs. 

*Kai started wearing a facemask during his teenage years, wanting to protect himself from breathing the same air as his filthy, quirk-ridden classmates. 

*The exposure to illicit activities and fights among gangs and other gang members made Kai truly develop his fighting and social skills. He learns how to charm, manipulate and intimidate to get his way. Above all, he leaves his enemies dead or near dead after a battle, instilling fear in not only rival gangs but also his own members. He quickly becomes well-known among the yakuzas as a deadly and fearsome individual who should not be taken lightly. Pops does not approve of Kai getting into these kinds of fights but Kai considers this part of repaying his debt.

*The yakuza influence is diminishing in society as one after another organization gets disbanded. Kai is hurt from seeing their organization backed into a corner and he blames the quirk plague, believing that quirks cause further delusion to use them for heroic or villainous causes. He imagines that the world would be a more ideal place for the yakuza if there were no more quirks. No heroes to oppose them and no villains to take their rightful place in the underworld.

*He proceeds to make the Shie Hassaikai more powerful by gaining more recruits and money. He does so by getting into ring fights to garner more respect and also starts businesses such as loan sharks and drug dealing for more income. Pops also does not approve of this and calls him out.

*Pops and Kai frequently clash about his methods. Pops believes in adjusting to the new normal as a yakuza but Kai cannot agree to this and wants the yakuza to come back to power, standing by ‘the end justifies the means’ philosophy. 

*One fateful day, Pops’ daughter calls him out of the blue, panicked about her daughter’s ability, unceremoniously drops Eri off at the Shie Hassaikai’s compound and leaves to be never heard of again. Pops notices that Eri’s quirk has similarities to Kai’s and (foolishly) thinks it would be a good idea to have Kai look after her and study her, somehow hoping Kai would connect to her and have something else to do rather than engaging in criminal businesses.

*There is an instant aversion towards Eri when Kai first sees her, which is because she reminds him too much of himself. But then he studies and starts understanding her ability, realizing she could actually revert back humanity to their original state- quirkless. After all this time, all the suffering caused by quirks, the hopeless truth of the mice theory- at last there was an answer and Eri could make it all go away. He finds a way to use her quirk genes the very same way Garaki had done to him. He comes up with a plan that not only answers his questions to his former existential crisis, but also a way to help the Shie Hassaikai. If there were no more heroes or villains to oppose their place, the yakuza could rise to power again. In addition to that, they could also make so much money if they monopolized quirks. All the previous struggles he had could be fixed through Eri.

*Kai proposes this plan to Pops and we all know how that ended. When Pops threatens to kick him out, Kai falls into despair, afraid to lose the one thing that matters most to him. He puts Pops into a coma so he can proceed with his plan unopposed but he does feel very guilty about hurting him but comforts himself in the thought that all of what he’s doing is for Pops, to repay his kindness. He discards his name, going by the name of his quirk instead which he formerly detested, and wears a plague mask instead, symbolizing he is on the pursuit to cure the world.

Spoiler alert: no more arms and no more Shie Hassaikai.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

Now that I’ve spoken it out loud, I can’t ignore the strangeness around Ash anymore. The nightmares, the flashes of memory that don’t belong to me, and now, what feels like someone else’s words coming out of my mouth.

I’ve decided to keep some distance until I can figure this out, even if the very idea of it has me twisted up in knots.

As usual, when I arrive at work, he’s already there, joking around with Evan and Lex. I make a point to walk back by the windows to my desk, so I won’t have to face him. I know I’ll need to talk to him eventually, but I have no idea what I’m going to say, and now doesn’t seem like the time or place to say it anyway.

So, I avoid him. I avoid the situation. I avoid myself.

I sit at my desk, put my earbuds in, and I retreat to a familiar place deep within. And I work. I work through lunch despite the protests from my stomach. I don’t stop working until six o’clock, long past when Ash usually leaves. I don’t know if he tried to say hello or goodbye. I don’t even remember the day.

When I finally look up, the office is nearly empty, and the sun has just started to sink toward the horizon.

Rather than taking my usual route home, I take a right out of the building and head toward the gym. No one else is going tonight, but that's fine. I just need to think, and I think best when I'm climbing or running.

But I only make it two blocks before I hear his footsteps behind me, moving quickly along the wet concrete as he tries to catch up. I hadn’t even realized it rained today. The sky is clear now, but the moisture has left the air feeling sticky and unseasonably warm.

My heart jumps when I feel his hand tap my shoulder even though I was expecting it. I take a breath and turn to face him.

“Hey,” his greeting is like a hand reaching into a dark well, reaching down to try and pull me up from where I’ve retreated deep inside myself. His eyes search the darkness in mine. I can’t tell if he can see me or not.

He squints slightly and I know then that he can’t. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” I say automatically.

“Everything’s fine?”

“Yeah.”

He squints harder, and the corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, “Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion in his voice twists at my stomach and I have to focus on staying upright, on keeping all the muscles in my face and shoulders relaxed. It’s not easy, but I’ve had two decades of practice and I’m better at it than I’d like to admit. “No,” I say simply. Keeping my answers short to keep the emotion out of them.

Then it happens. I watch as his eyes harden like stones. This is it. This is when I fuck everything up. I can feel it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But maybe it’s for the best. I can’t risk him getting close to me.

“Atlas, what the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Do you think I’m stupid?”

The sharpness in his tone makes me flinch, cracking my armor, and I feel my brows pull together, “No,” emotion sneaks into my voice, drawing out the word.

“Atlas, I—” he seems to struggle for a moment. I wait, desperate to reach out to him, to put my hand on his arm and reassure him, but I’m trapped. My armor has become a cage, as it so often does. Helpless, I listen as he tries again, “I like you, a lot, and we had a really great time the other night, but… you said you’d call and you didn’t, which is fine, like, people get busy, it’s whatever… but you’ve spent the entire day acting like I don’t  exist and now you’re telling me everything is fine, acting as if nothing happened, making me feel like I’m fucking delusional or something. Do you have any idea how awful that feels?”

Yes. I feel myself deflate, a wave of shame pouring over me. I don’t think I can hate myself more than I do in this moment, realizing that I am indeed my mother's son. “I’m sorry,” I try to infuse as much sincerity into the words as I can, but they still fall flat.

“Right. You wanna tell me what’s going on then?”

“I can’t do this, Ash, I’m sorry. I think we should just be friends.” I let it out in a rush, unable to look him in the eye.

“Friends?”

I nod.

“You know, a ‘friend’ would’ve had the decency to talk to me about this rather than avoiding me.”

“I know, I’m—”

“Sorry. Yeah. I got that. Can you tell me why?”

“Because…” I sigh, grabbing on to the only explanation I can think of that makes any sense, “because we work together. I just… I don’t date people I work with.” It’s not necessarily a lie. I usually don’t consider my co-workers part of the eligible dating pool. But maybe if things were different, I’d’ve made an exception.

“You don’t date people you work with?”

“That’s right.”

He scoffs, “This would’ve been good information for you to share with me a lot sooner. I really don’t appreciate being led on.”

“I know, I didn’t mean… I got caught up. I shouldn’t have. I really am sorry.”

His head drops away from me, “Yeah, me too,” he says to the ground more than me, nudging a rock with his shoe. “So, friends then? That’s what you want?”

No. “Yes.”

He nods, still looking at the ground as he takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He finally looks back up at me, his eyes shining, not with their usual playfulness and excitement, but with tears threatening to spill over. I’ve hurt him. “Okay,” he says again, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turns around abruptly before I can respond and starts walking away.

I stand there for a moment, stunned. Everything about this feels wrong. I want to take it back. And I nearly call out to him, tell him to wait, that I didn't mean it. But then he reaches a hand up, wiping his face, and I stop myself. I've done enough damage already.

I was wrong earlier. It turns out I can hate myself more.

Prev // Next

[bheysitos]

My Little Droplet

Pietro Maximoff x Reader (GN) | SFW

Chapter 5

Summary: After not finding the Avengers in the compound, you all head to a motel instead. You and Pietro find no luck in catching shut eye though, so you attempt to teach him to drive. The four of you then spend the next day searching for answers on your circumstances, causing you to bump into a familiar face and a friend to that familiar face, who happens to be very friendly.

Warnings: AU

Word Count: 1,809

Czech Translations:

Kapička- Droplet

Song Suggestions: She’s not there- The Zombies, Runner- Tennis, Before We Begin- Broadcast

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄ ₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄₊˚.༄

“We have the car.” Pietro stated as if it was obvious.

“If I damage her, Tony is going to kill me.”

“Tony can’t get to you right now.”

“Ok, but when we do get back, he’ll kill me. And I doubt he’ll excuse the fact that we just wanted to have fun.”

“Thats easy. We lie.”

At this point, it was past 12 a.m. The four of you had gone to a motel after heading to the compound, only to find it had ceased to exist. You weren’t exactly sure what that meant for the four of you. Had the team yet to be born? Presumably if it was the 60s, it checks out. Unfortunate for the lot of you however, as it meant you couldn’t get aid from the very people who knew how to handle supernatural phenomenons. And despite booking a motel room with two beds, you and Pietro seemed to be on the same page; struggling to sleep due to the ceaseless questions racking your brains.

That is where you found yourselves in the parking lot of the motel, attempting to make the hours pass. Pietro had just suggested to take the car out for a spin, being that he never had the need to drive nor learned how to. And you two argued for some time about it, though ultimately, Pietro was able to get through to you. You figured it may be best to have someone else who knows how to drive besides you and maybe Vision? You weren’t quite sure if he did, however you assumed he could given the whole robot thing. Either way, that left you here, teaching him how to drive, as you gripped onto the door handle for dear life.

“Alright you got that part down, now put some pressure onto the gas pedal again.” He put more than you anticipated, causing your grip to tighten. “Less! Less.” He adjusted his foot to the gas pedal.

“I thought I was doing okay.”

“Thought, not was. We can’t go too fast yet until you’ve got the basics down.”

“This will take forever.”

“It’s supposed to take some time to learn. Plus, this was your idea.” He slowed the car to a stop before looking over at you.

“I thought it would be quick and we could speed down the streets. Do a donut or whatever you call it.” You reached over to put the car in parking.

“Well you thought wrong.” He let out a puff of air while bubbling his lips. He gazed around, taking in the closed vintage shops before his eyes landed on you once more. His eyes then traveled down to your wrist before lightly plucking at your bracelet, allowing the bracelet to snap back at your skin. “Agh!” He snickered at your reaction. “You’re so-”

“Lovable? Fast? Endearing?”

“Pesky.” You retorted as you reached over to snap his bracelet in return.

A faux frown made its way onto his face. “That hurt!”

You laughed a bit while speaking. “To be fair, you could’ve moved on time instead of letting me do that.” He couldn’t harbor the grin he was trying to keep hidden anymore.

“It wouldn’t be fair.”

“I don’t think you’re one for fairness, Maximoff.” Your lips mirrored his.

“Only if I’m given reason. And you’re one of them.”

“You stole my fries earlier.”

He nodded sheepishly. “I wasn’t committed to the fairness back then.”

“And you are now?” You giggled softly.

“With my whole heart, mind, body, and soul.” He muttered dramatically while taking ahold of your hand, placing your palm over his chest, where his heart lied. He let his thumb glide over the back of your hand while you felt the fast beat of his heart. Quite unnaturally fast actually. Though that must be a given, due to his abilities. Some supernatural heartbeats passed by as you struggled to come up with a response. “You’re awfully quiet, kapička.” A prideful smirk transpired onto his lips. “Am I making you nervous?” His tone carried the usual teasing tone, but you did hear some genuine curiosity and concern laced into it. And with the way his eyes studied yours, it gave you further reason to believe so.

“Course not.” You retracted your hand. “Just didn’t expect you to grab my hand like that.”

He chuckled at that. “Do you not like that?”

You took a pause before responding. “I don’t mind it.” You said quietly into the night air while avoiding his look. If you turned back around, you were sure you’d see his shit eating grin once more. Surprisingly though, you weren’t met with a teasing response, just a “hm.” You looked at the time plastered onto the car’s clock. “We should head back, it’s getting late.”

“Can I drive us back then?”

“Definitely not.”

You two sneaked back into the motel room, careful not to wake Wanda and Vision up. You lied beside Wanda, ready to fall asleep, but not before thinking about your hand on him and how it made your heart race. You push the feeling and memories away, knowing there wasn’t much to it and let your dreams take over.

Once morning came around, the four of you headed out for breakfast while discussing how to get answers on how you ended up there and hopefully find a way out. “We’re in the 60’s that much we know.” You stated while offering some of your food to Pietro. He happily plopped a few pieces into his mouth while nodding and munching along.

“But are we in our 60’s or an alternate timeline?” Vision added.

Wanda turned to him after a moment of thinking. “Is there not some way we can test to see if it is?”

He paused before nodding. “You could be onto something. We can look for known events to figure out whether or not the timelines match up.”

“That’s a really good idea actually. Should we head to a library? We can even get some newspapers?” You chimed in.

You each collected books and newspapers for Vision to read, being that he was a fast reader and knew if the information aligned with your universe’s history. Two hours had gone by and you were in the history section, searching for any other history book that might’ve been missed. You ran your finger along the spine of the books as you read the labels and suddenly fell forward upon feeling someone bump into you. The person thankfully was quick on their feet and had made sure you didn’t hit your head on the shelves or floor whilst they repositioned you upright.

“Please pardon-” was all the stranger got out before you realized that the voice belonged to Steve. He looked like he usually does, but with a 60’s pompadour haircut that didn’t draw too much attention. “I really didn’t mean to bump into you, I’m so sorry. My friend just shoved me carelessly without looking.” He continued, looking back to give his friend a stern look. Your eyes followed his, seeing his friend was a brunette with a ducktail hairstyle. He happened to be built like Steve but in a slightly shorter stature. “Otherwise, we would’ve made sure not to put you at risk. Are you alright? You didn’t hit your head did you?”

You blinked a couple of times before nodding and laughing a bit nervously. “No yeah, I’m fine, just a little shaken up. You just look so familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Your name starts with an S right?”

He smiled warmly as he shook his head. “Steve, yes.” He held his hand out for you to shake while speaking. “I’m not sure I remember your name, my apologies. Would you mind reminding me?”

You gave him your name and attempted to see if you could get more information out of him. “Yeah yeah, I’m not sure if I saw you around or maybe on something like a newspaper?” You tilted your head in an innocent manner.

It ended up working, given that he gave you a wide smile and raised his brows. “Oh that’s a possibility-” he started until his friend butted in with an arm slung around Steve’s shoulders.

“Though it’s likely you saw Steve on TV, that’s where most of the beauties recognize him from.” To which Steve smacked his friend’s torso with the back of his hand.

“Please don’t pay him any mind.”

“Or pay me all of it, hun.” His friend offered a toothy smile and extended his hand for you to shake. “The names James, but you can call me Bucky.”

You returned the smile with a friendly one of your own and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Bucky. I imagine you make the headlines too?” You took a wild guess. You weren’t sure what was true and what wasn’t. Steve being alive right now, and not trapped in ice, confirmed you were in a different reality. Though he looks the same age as he did since the 40’s, meaning he must’ve taken the serum. And given how his friend is built, you assume he might’ve too.

“Not as much as Steve, but if you’re looking for me, I’m sure you’ll find me.” He winked. “Is that your guy?” He flicked his head to signal behind you. You turned to find Pietro walking up to you and stopping right beside you. You turned back around, a bit wide eyed while shaking your head and laughing bashfully.

“Oh no, no, he’s a friend of mine. Bucky, Steve, this is Pietro, Pietro this Bucky and Steve.” You introduced them to each other. Pietro greeted Steve first and then simply gave Bucky a thin lipped smile when he shook his hand. “I was wondering if you two can possibly show me and my friends around here? We’re new to the place, and I’m assuming you two are well acquainted with it. That is if it’s not too big of an ask and if you two aren’t busy, of course.”

Bucky was the first to reply, instantly at that. “It would be no issue at all, angel face.”

“Would you want to know about any places in particular? There’s a theater a few blocks down if you want to see a play.”

“You’re gonna bore them to death, Steve. If you want something more worth your buck, there’s a club not too far that I’m sure you and your friends will enjoy.”

“Both sound great! Let me just check in with my friends to see which they’ll prefer. Or if you want to come along as well and get the introductions over with, we can do that too.” You said sweetly, praying that they would agree to it.

————————— Following chapters:

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

A/N: Y’all please forgive me for not writing for like a month, school got in the way unfortunately 👎 Though I also think it’s getting tough for other fanfic writers cause I swear me and the other 6 fans Pietro has, haven’t been writing as much, or maybe that’s just me, but it just feels like there’s less fics of him than usual❓besides school though, I rewrote this chapter like three times, not sure where I wanted to go with it (that’s on me for deciding to make it an AU), but I think I figured it out now! And I’m glad I redid this more than once cause now I like how it turned out and I hope you guys do as well!

[drrealityslenderverse]

Sleepless Nights

Wattpad Request: Tim x Jay Ft. some angst with a happy ending!

Back to main Contents || Back to One-shot Contents

Insomnia was nothing new to Jay at this point. Dark circles beneath his eyes were common and more often than not bags accompanied the exhausted look. Some nights he didn’t even know if he was awake or asleep anymore, not since Tim… left. 

Closing his eyes was no different than lying with them wide open facing the crappy motel ceiling when the room was this dark. It played with his mind sometimes, whispers of whether or not something might be lurking in the corners. Fears he’d had as a child only now it was so much more real. What if the shadow cast was really that Thing appearing in that mysterious way it did? 

It was too dark for shadows tonight. The blinds were tightly shut and the lights that should have lined the sidewalk had burned out. Jay felt like his chest was trying to rip itself apart and almost wished that familiar static would just drown out his consciousness. 

Tim left him behind.

The thought repeated as if his mind was an echo chamber. It didn’t make sense, things had been going well… or he’d thought they were. Alex was out there somewhere, a threat but one they’d been managing to avoid well. Answers weren’t easy to find but they’d gotten their hands on some old tapes he’d planned to make into entries at some point… Maybe when he could pull himself together enough to handle seeing Tim’s face on the screen.

“What did I do wrong?” No, it wasn’t his fault! It was that guy with the hoodie’s fault! 

Tim had left after ‘Hoody’, as viewers called the figure, broke into their former hotel room and stole not just Tim’s meds, but Jay’s camera as well. Jay had already searched Rosswood and the hospital, pleading with whatever higher powers might exist that he’d find Tim or that masked state he went into… no dice. Tim had replaced his meds the next day anyway, so it had been a slim chance that he’d relapsed, in hindsight. 

Jay blinked, not that he could tell beyond the rough feeling that said maybe he should invest in some eye drops. He felt small and alone now. No camera to keep things straight should he black out again and more importantly, no Tim to make him feel safe. He missed the man’s large arms around him as they both tried to get some form of rest. When one had a nightmare, the other was always right there to console them. Jay didn’t always dream anymore with how tired he was, but recently his nightmares consisted of Tim lying dead or dying somewhere in bumfuck nowhere.

Despite his mourning over the loss of his boyfriend, days of sleepless nights and stress caught up to him. Jay didn’t know when he slipped off to sleep, but it happened because at some point he was woken up by the door opening. His breath caught, fearing another break-in, before the dim orange light on the desk was switched on in the far corner—Jay hadn’t even heard the person move.

His eyes adjusted to the faint light and widened at the sight before him: Tim. His precious Tim, the man he’d thought might be out of his life forever. Was this a dream, or a hallucination? “T-Tim?” 

“Jay, sorry… I was trying not to wake you up.” Tim sat his things down on the floor and pulled off his coat, pills rattling in their bottle from within one of the pockets. 

“Where have you been? Are you okay? I thought you—” A camera was sat down on the TV stand, his camera. “You… found it?” 

“Didn’t you see my note? I said I was going after the guy.” Concern laced Tim’s soft voice; the bed dipped as he sat on its edge. “I didn’t think it’d take so long… Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

Note? What note? Fear seeped into his blood, chilling him as he considered what else might’ve been forgotten. Jay hadn’t even realized he’d been shaking until Tim was there to steady his scrawny form, engulfing it with strong arms and pressing him into Tim’s warm chest.

“I never saw the note, I don’t think.” Jay paused, realized how that could sound, and immediately scrambled to reassure him. “Everything else has been fine though! My head has been clear, I don’t feel like I’m forgetting anything… I must’ve just fallen and I didn’t see it.” 

Dark eyes watched him, lips pressed lightly against his head for a moment, and then Tim was gently pushing him to lie down again. “Okay… We’re fine, safe.”

Jay couldn’t tell who Tim was trying to convince. The feeling of a large hand rubbing soothing circles against his hand was enough to convince him the words were true though. Tim was back, of course everything was okay! 

“I’m going to shower and change, I’ll be right back.” Tim slowly moved further away, reluctant but the promise of returning soon was clear. “Try to get back to sleep.” 

Ever the worrier. Jay smiled and nodded. Weight lifted from his chest just knowing Tim was safe and soon they’d be in each others’ arms where nothing felt like it could harm them. The eagerness of the latter part was almost enough to keep him awake as he waited for Tim’s return from the shower. The sound of the running water was hypnotic though and he began to doze again until Tim rejoined him. 

Jay all but crushed himself against Tim as the shorter man settled down. Words were muffled as he spoke against the fabric covering Tim’s chest. “Don’t run off without me again.” 

A quiet hum and a hand was once more rubbing those soothing circles on his back this time. “Only if there is a next time… Let’s hope there won’t be.” 

"M’kay.” Right, of course. Jay nodded sleepily as he drifted off once more. 

For once after the past days, he could sleep without restlessly tossing. It was as if Tim’s very presence had driven the paranoia and fears from his mind, leaving him only blissful silence and peaceful dreams of what their life together after the waking nightmare was over would be like.

[bookwormscififan]

Mangle My Mind, I've Lost My Soul

A/N: Merry Christmas to @bondoes-art! I took part in the NWTB Gift Exchange this year, and you were my giftee! In your wishlist, you mentioned anything with Natemare or FNAF the Musical Nate, so I kind of merged the two into a sort of origin story for Mare. I hope you enjoy! [Also I drew a little thing as well to add to the effect]

The lights flicker around me, Dark blemishes against what I already see. Was that a scratching in the walls? Who’s going to pick up my calls?

He really needed to find a better form of income. After everything at Freddy’s, why did he ever think coming back to work at an Afton-owned restaurant was a good idea? He swore the place was abandoned, so why did he have to play night guard?

This place was worse. They’d provided him with some better lighting and higher-powered technology, but the place still smelled like blood and suffering, and he was sure that rotten cupcake was the same one he swore had been burned with Freddy’s.

Despite the desolate appearance of this location, Nate kept his eyes on the screens, tilting his head to listen out for footsteps he could have sworn he’d heard. But there was nothing, like always. Silence greeted him, darkness flooding the halls when he looked out.

But was that a shadow moving at the end of the hall? Had that stack of chairs always been there? How had the breeze gotten in to make that paper shift?

Take a moment to sit with me, Tell me truly, can you see? Every blink hides a memory I’m a shell of who I used to be.

When was the last time he saw daylight? The memories were starting to bleed into his nightmares, plaguing his dreams and twisting his reality. He couldn’t mark the point where his memories stopped and his nightmares started, everything blending into a horrific blur.

And somewhere among the wreck of his mind twisting into something unrecognisable, he was distantly aware that the nights were getting longer, time between work and being home shrinking until they were non-existent.

When was the last time he’d been home? Did anybody remember him anymore? Was he being kept here for something, some insane ritual he had no control over? But the front door still opened with a screech, the cameras still worked, and he swore he made the trip home every morning, so he must not be stuck.

They crawl over me, The fears and worries Cover my skin in silver, My eyes burn as I shiver.

Open me up Remove my ruined pieces Fill me with artificial parts Don’t let me tear me apart.

The loneliness was the worst, he decided. Having nobody to tell him what was real and what wasn’t had his mind racing at all hours. Behind the doors, along the halls, decay and despair heightened the questions in his head, planting seeds of doubt that had him curling in the corner with his head in his hands.

He’d abandoned his glasses, unable to trust the assistance they granted his vision. Checking the lights and emptying the halls only welcomed more banging in the walls, so he stopped following the steps.

Who was he now? Was he still Nate, or had he changed somehow in the time he’d worked here? And if he was different, who was he?

The mechanisms burnt out, Nothing should move. Yet I see them seem to fly, Movements, flickers from the corners of my eye.

Am I still who I believe I am? Where did I go wrong? If I got out of here now, Would they still recognise me?

Scramble my thoughts, Squash my pride, Leave me mangled on the floor, Just don’t leave me to die.

He ran down the halls, pounding heart an aching weight in his chest as he listened to the whispers echoing in his mind. Whatever was following him knew his every move, moving almost faster than he could, until he was crouching in the corner and trying desperately to catch his breath.

And finally, after endless nights searching for answers, the silhouette that approached him seemed to pause, regarding his fearful form before crouching to mirror his position. A cold hand reached out to touch his cheek, adjusting until it was cradling his face, and for once he didn’t mind the way his blood froze from the contact.

His jacket hung off one shoulder, but he couldn’t care less about his appearance when the shadowy figure looked into his eyes. Purple, he realised, seemed to glint out of the darkness where the figure’s own eyes should be, shining and jewel-like.

Take me home, But I won’t know if it’s mine. Am I well? I’m doing just fine.

Watch me drown in pools of lavender, Break me down, I’ll no longer be a traveller. You won’t welcome me into town.

The light from the hole in the roof was a perfect spotlight, shining off the purple tears making their way down his cheeks as he stared into the emptiness of the halls. The corner of his lip twitched, curling into a smile as he slowly stood up and moved back to the security office.

He felt like a shadow as he left the facility, squinting at the sunlight before pausing to catch his reflection in the windows. Purple lines streaked down his cheeks, days without sleep forming dark hollows where his eyes had sunken in, and his hair fell messily over his forehead.

As he looked into his reflected eyes, he frowned. Was this still Nate staring back at him, or the embodiment of his nightmares? Would the real Nate ever resurface, or was he trapped here forever?

Shaking his head to clear the questions, he walked to his car and climbed in. Whatever the answers to the questions turned out to be, he knew he’d keep coming back to Freddy’s. Something kept him coming back, some inset feeling that he was made to do this.

Even as he drove away, he knew the old Nate was gone. In his place was something mangled, something different. And he had no idea if the madness in his mind would ever end.

But he’d be back.

Revamped.

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

@nwtbgiftexchange @iamvegorott @rattyboyisemo @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons

[music-orthemisery]

Hi! While we somewhat on the subject of Patrick’s solo project, can we talk about the hidden track on SP? Like… your thoughts, feelings, theories? What do you see when you listen to it? What feelings are you experiencing when you’re listening to the sounds at the end of the track???

Of courseeee we can talk about Cryptozoology, anon! I’m assuming that’s what you’re referring to, at least.

First, I’ll punt over to this ask @earlgreytea68 answered about this song because I think both she and anon made some great points! I especially love EGT’s comment re: naming a hidden song “cryptozoology.” It’s just so clever!

In terms of my own thoughts, this song definitely presents a few layers to me. The most obvious being him speaking to the music industry and the public/fans in response to him being out on his own. In general, I think Patrick is generally lying out his ass when he says that SP is all metaphorical commentary on the industry/society/etc., but this is one place where I do think that’s accurate. Patrick was in a place where he was desperate to be seen as his own artist - someone who could work magic without Pete and no longer be limited by the confines of FOB.

In terms of the visuals (the cryptozoology of it all), in my head this is Patrick being self-deprecating in a tongue-in-cheek way. He spent years being the guy in Pete Wentz’s shadow, and the ways he’d be described were rarely kind. You’d see nerdy, fat, unattractive, shy, etc. - which would then be paired with commentary on how he’s the primary songwriter and how “despite his looks” he’s essentially the hit factory.

So, now we have this guy emerging from the shadows. This guy who, compared to Pete, was less known, kinda weird looking, and, therefore, more mysterious…what could he bring to the table by himself? Who is Patrick Stump without Pete Wentz? Them being apart practically makes him a Cryptid because it just didn’t exist untold then. It was always at least the two of them.

There’s also the lyrics, “They got the search party looking for the ghost of the child/But what if he grew up? He never died.” Which is….ugh…basically pariah before pariah. I think his perspective here was more defiant (compared to pariah’s defeat), though. Like, ok, I’m being told that the only good I’ve created is shit I created when I was 18, but fuck that. I grew up and I’m here whether you like it or not and I’m not going to keep trying to please you. I’m going to create what I want to create. I don’t need to prove myself to you!

And, yes, that second part is also being spoken to Pete IMO. EGT’s ask that I linked to above echos my general thoughts on that aspect so I won’t go into it much more here.

Of course I need to acknowledge some p2-ness of it, tough, so I’ll focus on the source of Patrick’s bitterness here.

First off, I do not think Patrick was jealous of Pete’s attention. There is not a single thing about Patrick Stump that points to him wanting to be on the same level of fame and attention as Pete was back then.

In fact, going back to my earlier point about him emerging from Pete’s shadow - I’d argue that he was totally fine being in Pete’s “shadow” before, because I don’t think that’s how he saw it. Maybe he didn’t have words for it yet, but it goes back to what they still do now, which is protect each other. He wasn’t in Pete’s shadow. He was the reason he was able to put it all out there musically. They were doing it TOGETHER.

So, in my eyes, Patrick’s bitterness toward Pete, stemmed primarily from abandonment. His creative (and general life, ofc) soulmate had been punted into a completely different reality. Gone were the days where the two of them would spend hours writing and bickering and creating. Even starting in IOH era, there was tension building between them due to Pete’s obligations were taking him away from the studio. They weren’t doing this thing together anymore. Patrick was having to forge on “alone.” Not literally, of course, but I think you get where I’m going with this.

Additionally, referring back to the beloved Zane Lowe interview, Pete’s lyrics give Patrick purpose. Their creative energy is what gets him up in the morning. So, in Patrick’s words, not only was he losing Pete, he was losing his purpose.

(In my delusion p2 brain, IOH is also when the tensions of “what the fuck are we?” And Pete having to live up to the “Hollywood hottie” persona began. That’s a whooooole other post in itself that I’ve talked about a few times before but just had to throw that in there of course.)

So, this is both processing his emergence as his own person to the media and public, but also to Pete. I don’t need to prove myself to you. I don’t need you. I can do this all on my own.

In terms of feelings I experience, what I see, etc…I admittedly tend to intellectualize those things rather than fully acknowledge and experience them, so honestly the above answer probably best captures that as well, haha. Oh, and no clue about the outro sounds. I’m sure someone smarter than me may have some thoughts on that, but in my head Patrick is just playing into the Cryptid/hidden element with some sounds 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I could yap forever about this but I’ll leave it there. Great question, anon! Thank you! Definitely gave me something to ponder during work today, haha!

[ikamigami]

Honestly, does Sun actually have any friends? Outside of his family I don’t really think he has anyone, legitimately, Monty is never that nice to him, though they used to be worse, boasting about beating Sun up until he cried or throwing Sun over his head, they also frequently never took Sun seriously, even when Sun was on the brink of a breakdown, and regularly went against Sun’s, and for that matter most of the family’s, choices on matters, then there’s Puppet, who gets involved in their lives for no reason and pushes her way in, yet, despite that she doesn’t use her powers more responsibly to help them, rather she tries to get them to do whatever and it’s only when the situation gets to its worst point that she actually steps in, like she could’ve stopped Nexus long before he tried to kill Earth because she knew where Nexus was hiding after he disappeared and Jack was searching for him, but with Sun specifically she really likes putting him in situations where she can ask really invasive questions and refuses to let up even when Sun expresses that he really doesn’t want to answer or have her in his house, she shows up uninvited regularly, for “content”, she’s also undermined his choices and even tried to force Sun to go along with killing Nexus, and then there’s Foxy, who also has a habit of sticking his nose in other peoples business again, like with Nexus, and trying to get the family to kill him, but besides that he also dumped his responsibilities onto others when he didn’t want to deal with it, I feel so bad for FC because basically at one point his father was like “I don’t wanna deal with you anymore�� and just dumped the responsibility for caring for FC on everyone else, he also has a bad habit of projecting himself on others and saying that he understands their suffering and that he’s suffered more than them, which is rude, then outside of him the rest of the characters barely interact with them, the Glamrocks and other animatronics almost never come by, Roxanne is a self-absorbed jerk who jerked Sun’s(honestly for that matter most people’s) feelings around, and Glamrock Freddy was nice but he rarely interacted with Sun and Moon at all and after Eclipse made them be hated by everybody the infrequent visits basically became non-existent, the closest thing to friends outside of the family that Sun has would probably be Dazzle and Jack, and while he’s opened up to Jack before, it’s not the same, I am personally hoping that Molten and/or other characters may come along that may become close friends with Sun because he really needs more people in his life who actually treat him well, and who aren’t family, he needs a best friend, like, for several years of this guy’s life the only relationship he had with another person was Moon, and then after that Moon and Eclipse, both antagonistic, and it was only when Lunar joined that he had another person he was closer to, but not enough to confide in, it’s only when Earth came around that he finally had somebody who had his back, but that’s still gotta be SO lonely, especially for somebody made to be so social and extroverted

Yeah you're absolutely right.

I can't much to add maybe only that Freddy Fazbear is pretty decent friend to Sun.. but they don't interact too often and Sun doesn't feel like opening up to Freddy..

I wish that Sun had a friend outside his family that he could confide in.. Molten would be a good candidate till someone will tamper with him cause I'm pretty sure that Sun can't have anything good in his life for too long..

He needs someone else beside Earth cause Sun doesn't tell her everything because she's his younger sister.. even if they talk it's not enough.. cause I swear if Earth knew how bad Sun's mental issues are things would look differently.. or so I think.. that's why I assume that despite talking with Earth Sun doesn't tell her everything.. doesn't tell her about all of his issues..

I was hoping that maybe Sun would open up to Eclipse if they got closer or had unexpected heart to heart conversation cause things like that can happen.. but it seems that it might not be the case for now..

But I wish that Sun could feel that he can open up to someone about his most hidden feelings..

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me ^^

[changingplumbob]

Woods Household: Chapter 1, Part 4

In this part shit gets real Samir explores the tunnels further and finds something he did not expect. He and Reece puzzle over the find and confront Sheriff Captain Greenway about what he knows.

Low level content warning: Some sim spice and mentions of death

Reece did get told to expect gifts in the mail. Turns out his family know him as well as like him and he got some starter herbs and veges. No planter box for them right now, maybe later on. He begins to practice guitar, glad that there’s only the trees to hear him at this stage. Inside, the money Harvey gave Samir has been used to buy a sofa, a few counters, a sink, an indoor oven and wooden chairs to replace the plastic ones that were being used indoors. The walls aren't painted yet but Reece has tried to spread the pictures out to cover the shabby.

Samir is out again, searching the tunnels. He has just tripped over a small skull when he hears a howl in the distance. Bears certainly don’t howl. In a flash of desperation he howls back, but the answering silence is deafening. Feeling defeated he turns to head back home but can’t shake the feeling that something is watching him. The darkness offers no clues however and he does his best to retrace his steps. Suddenly he gets knocked forward, the wind flying out of his lungs.

Turning over dizzily he sees a pair of red eyes blazing, and wonders if he’s been knocked out. Normally he only sees eyes like that in his nightmares, the ones where he is a frozen 5year-old before it gets dark and he feels like he's being crushed. He tries to stand up but is forcefully pushed down. A low growling starts and Samir realises with horror, the thing in the darkness is talking to him. Still feeling poorly from his previous tunnel injures he finds himself unable to follow the words. All except... shouldn’t have come back.

Samir’s bicep screams as sharp fangs clamp on his arm. He flashes back to that night, so many years ago, trapped. The sound of his parents cries… he couldn’t bear to hear Reece cry… no. No! He will not be trapped again. He's not 5 years old anymore, this thing doesn't get to throw him back 15 years. It may have taken his family but Samir will not let it take him from Reece. He lets out his own growl, startling the creature in to letting go. Then his years of athletic training kick in. He sweeps his legs in arch until he hears the sound of something heavy falling. He bolts up, sprinting for the nearby light. He hears the growling behind him but he doesn’t stop, he promised Reece he’d come back alive. He makes it out, whatever was down there is not strong enough to stop him keeping his promises.

As he runs for the house he can feel his blood boiling. Whatever was in the dark, he's faster than it is. Thick foam starts to form in his throat and he finds himself spitting it out several times in an effort to avoid choking. But there, Reece is right outside, safe.

Samir: Blondie *spits* we need to talk

Reece looks around and is clearly startled by Samir’s appearance, not knowing where to start.

Samir: I was right. I thought it was all a nightmare, my mind warping what happened... but I was right. It almost killed me

Reece: Samir, you’re not making any sense. What happened? You don’t look good. I mean you always look good but you look off. We need to get you inside

Samir: No! Just... thank you…

Reece: Please come inside

Samir: Listen. I was pinned in those tunnels by… the point is... I’m always coming back. That’s what’s important. I knew I had to get back to you, so I got away, and I got home. You got me home

For once Reece is speechless. Samir always makes him happy when he says he loves him but this... It's like Samir is thanking him for simply existing, as if by existing he's done some heroic feat, he has no idea how he's meant to respond.

Samir: I’ll always keep my promises to you blondie, I swear

Reece: *sniffs* I know. Samir will you please come inside before I have a heart attack? You look like you’ve been mauled

Samir throws his arms around Reece and holds him as if checking that he's real. After a minute he pulls back and nods. Inside is best.

Reece: You didn’t find a bear did you? You know you can’t win a fight with a bear

Reece: Can I get you water or something

Samir: No. I need to tell you… I need someone to know what is going on in my head

Reece: Hey, I’m listening. I’ll always listen to you

Samir: I found this bone thing in the tunnels

Reece: What is that

Samir: Who knows, but I figured if anyone would know how to figure it out, it would be my... you

Reece: Is this how you got hurt? Getting this... it kind of looks like a skull doesn't it? Or, well, part of a skull

Samir: No. I mean I tripped over it but, I was heading back, and it felt like I was being watched and then, I got hit

Reece: Hit? Where?

Samir tries to speak but his memories are coming apart. Things he thought were real, things he thought were not, all conflicting. He starts to sob. He hates for Reece to see him like this but his boyfriend keeps a firm grip on his hand while he cries into his other arm where it rests on the table. When the tears finally stop he goes to wipe his face only for Reece to pull him in for a kiss. They sit with their foreheads resting together for a moment before Samir finds the strength to sit up properly.

Samir: I was flung backwards… just like when I was a kid, or when we would tackle in football. You remember?

Reece: I mostly remember looking for excuses to grab on to you, but yeah... I got hit bad a couple of times

Samir: Then I saw the eyes, red pits of flame in the dark. My nightmares of what happened normally fade when I wake up but those eyes... they always take longer to disappear

Reece: You have nightmares? I mean I guess I shouldn't be surprised but you just never said

Samir: I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to keep them from you. It sounds silly but... I just wanted to seem strong. Like someone you could depend on

Reece: Hey, you're the strongest person I know. Even sitting here with your tears on our faces, you're strong. Do you hear me?

Samir: I always hear you blondie, I do

Samir: Those eyes... I tried to tell the cops, bloody Greenway, I did! But they all said I was hysterical and imagining things... so then I thought I was hysterical and imagining things

Reece: I’m so sorry you went through that, and that I have nothing better to say than I'm sorry

Samir: There's no right thing to say. But if eyes can really glow red... The strength required to break down the door, the growling and slashin. Is there a chance that my parents were killed by- by-

Here Samir freezes up again, unable to get the word out. He throws his hands up in frustration, desperately tring to think of a way he can tell Reece without sounding like he has lost his mind. He couldn't bear if Reece thought he had a broken mind.

Reece: A werewolf?

Samir looks at Reece trying to tell if he's being serious or attempting to break the tension with humor. Looking into the eyes of the one he loves all he can see is sincerity. Reece is listening to him, he always does. Even if Samir doesn't think he has anything interesting to say, Reece listens.

Samir: Yes blondie. But- but no! They’re supposed to be fiction! Like vampires and spellcasters! Everyone knows werewolves don't actually exist, they're myth

Reece: Well, they are... and they aren’t...

Samir: What are you talking about

Reece: Remember how I said I was looking up about the area

Samir: Yeah, you found out there were no bears

Reece: I did... but some people were discussing how it would be possible to have no predators and not have the area overrun with deer and wild pigs and stuff. You know I like puzzles, and nature so I kept reading. There are... folktales I guess you'd call them, of this area. Of werewolves here. I didn’t mention it because I- I thought it was made up. I am so so sorry

Samir: *confused* Wait why are you sorry

Reece: If I’d told you that theory maybe you wouldn’t have been hurt. But I kept it from you so now it's my fault. You were out there and you could have been killed and-

Samir: Blondie, stop. You did not make me go down there, I chose to. Whatever this is, it is not your fault. Do you understand me?

Reece: Mmhmm

But Samir can see Reece needs time to process. He did have the whole run back to think about it, Reece on the other hand has barely had ten minutes.

Samir goes to shower, letting Reece have time to think. Reece knows that logically, this isn’t his fault. If it was a... a werewolf that killed Samir’s parents then this whole thing started long before Reece came in to Samir’s life. Nevertheless, Samir was hurt today. He was here practicing guitar and the man he loves… he was being attacked by a werewolf. Wait, was he attacked? All he said was hit, and the werewolf revelation kind of derailed the conversation after that. Reece contemplates joining him in the shower to properly look at any injuries but he decides to practice being patient. He sets the table and heats up some leftovers for dinner to try give his brain something else to do.

Samir: You got food ready! This is one of the reasons I love you

Reece: You said you almost got killed

Samir: *through food* I said what?

Reece: Lover you said you almost got killed. What happened after you were hit

Samir: *shovelling food* I got pinned I guess, and the… the werewolf, watcher that sounds weird, the werewolf bit through my arm. It hurt like hell to. But I fought back enough to get up and just bolted for here, for home. But it's fine, I can't even feel it any more

Reece: Samir...

Samir: Yes?

Reece: Does this mean…

Samir: *hesitantly* Does this mean what

Reece: Well you know the myth right? A werewolf bites you, you become a werewolf

Samir: I have no idea, they're supposed to be fiction

Reece: We could go to some locals, there's bound to be some kind of antidote or something

Samir: But… *softly* I need to find out what happened to my parents

Reece: I know you do, I’m not trying to stop you. I just want you safe

Samir: Werewolves are meant to be fast and strong right

Reece: Yes...

Samir: I was faster than it, I got away. It was strong but I'm only human. What if I wasn't? If I'm faster already then becoming a werewolf could make me stronger than it. Strong enough to get some answers. If it takes becoming… becoming a werewolf to find the one that killed my parents, then that’s what I’m going to do

Silence settles over the room and all that Samir can hear for a while is the sound of his chewing. He can't take Reece being quiet.

Samir: Blondie? You’re not talking…

Reece: I- it’s a lot to process I guess

Samir: But… you don’t want me becoming a werewolf, do you?

Reece: I'm not saying that. I actually *blushes* think you’d make a pretty hot werewolf. Watcher knows you have the physique for it

Samir: You... what?

Reece: All the stories and myths say werewolves are meant to be like, super buff and powerful. I already consider you both of those things. Maybe this is just like a next evolutionary step for you

Samir: You’d really want to woohoo a werewolf

Reece: Well probably not in wolf form. But general werewolf myth has their human forms being very much to my tastes. I do love you Samir, I'm not going to say "It's me or the wolf". If you want to see if being a werewolf helps, I'll support you. I know you’re not going to be happy until we figure out who killed your parents

Samir: Hey, look at me blondie, I am happy. You make me happy *wicked smile* especially when you groan, and shudder, and beg. My past just makes me… restless. I don't want it to make me lose you

Reece: No matter what happens, you promised you’d come back to me alive. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere

Samir: Thank you

Reece: One thing is for sure, you’re going to be the hottest werewolf around

Samir: *chuckles* Calm down, we don’t even know if this bite will turn me or just give me a nasty infecton

Reece: It’s definitely... making you froth at the mouth

Samir: Yeah *spits* I don’t know how you always handle stuff in your mouth

Reece: *smiles* You taste good, that’s how I handle it

Reece: You know I bet it was Greenway

Samir: What do you mean

Reece: He’s making inconsistent statements about stuff. Maybe he didn’t throw up on scene because it was his first time seeing something like that. Maybe it was guilt

Samir: Because he killed my parents… but I was still alive?

Reece: I don’t know, I guess I’m just looking for a place to start

Samir: We better talk to him. Even if he’s not a killer, there’s just something about him that pisses me off

Reece: *laughs* We should totally tell him we've woohoo'd, it'll unsettle him

Samir: I don't remember going through with having you on the table

Reece: When we get back? *pouts*

Samir: *laughs* we'll see

Sheriff: Oh look, nature obsessed people roaming the woods. Why am I not surprised

Samir: At least *spits* we’re not lying murdering snobs

Sheriff: What are you talking about? You dare come on to my property and insult me? I should arrest you

Reece: Maybe we should arrest you

Sheriff: What are you on about now kid

Samir: Werewolves *spits* Werewolves! WEREWOLVES

Sheriff: You’re going to have to expand your vocabulary eventually son if you want to have conversations like an adult

Reece: He's not your son! Stop talking down to him like that

Samir: You knew *spits* Covered up. Or killed

Sheriff: That's quite the acussation but you don't look well. Go home, rest, think about what you're doing

Samir: Why should we

Sheriff: Because I bloody well said so and I'm the sheriff

Reece: Please, Captain Greenway, we need to know-

Sheriff: Get off my property this instant or I WILL arrest you two for trespassing

Samir: Fine. We’ll leave. But we know you know

Sheriff: Know what? That you're on my property raving about things that don't exist

Reece: No, they do exist. Samir was down in the tunnels and he saw one. Just like he did when his parents were killed. He tried telling you but you dismissed him

Sheriff: He was wrong then and he's wrong now

Samir: I'm right here

Sheriff: Then YOU were wrong then. YOU are wrong now. Keep raving about werewolves and I'd be within my rights to arrest you. If you act in a way that would endanger the people in my town, I will. I'll have you committed. Now get off my property

Sheriff Captain Greenway heads inside his house while his wife, who has heard the argument, comes out. Sophia greets them, compliments them on the wind turbines they’ve installed, then asks them to leave. Turns out she’s also a snob who doesn’t want to talk to nature obsessed sims.

Samir: That could have gone better

Reece: Yeah… but also, could have gone a lot worse

Samir: *chuckles* true. Come on, he seems to... scared and angry to tell us anything else. Let’s get back home

Reece: Table time?

Samir: Table time

Previous Part ... Next Part

[litsenn]

The Book of Ashes - III

Summary : Orin just died. Durge Ellith (genderfluid half-drow - bard/sorcerer) rejected Bhaal’s legacy, and now they must decide who they want to be, chose their own new life. But before that, they yearn to remember who they used to be, how they sealed their own fate and that of the people they now love.

Relationships: Durge (OC) x Astarion

Previous chapter || Read it on Ao3.

_____________________

Chapter III: Open wounds

____________________

Astarion opens the door before me.

Our rooms in the Elfsong Tavern are unusually quiet. The tension in the air is so thick that I find it hard to breathe. When I step in, my companions are all there, gathered in silent contemplation, waiting for my return.

I wish I could disappear, but Astarion is right, I can’t run away forever.

I owe them so much.

“Hey…” I wave timidly. Only Karlach answers with a little wave of her own, while the others watch me severely, when they don’t ignore me.

��Listen, I know you are mad at me, and rightly, but…”

Angry glares, suspicious side-eyes and quite growls.

“The version of me who wrote that damn list doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Think what you want to avoid guilt, Ellith, but it was you. You did that to us!” Gale snaps, suddenly on his feet and pointing at his own head.

“… and so much worse.” It was Minthara’s voice. Cold, disdainful, imbued with increasing anger.

I freeze. Why would Minthara resent me? Of all my friends, I thought she would be the most likely to understand. But I was wrong, and I only take the full extent of my mistake when she walks straight to me, her eyes burning with a feral light.

“She did it for you!” The Drow yells at me, and it takes both Karlach and Minsc to keep her from hurling herself at me.

I stumble backward, but Astarion catches me before I hit the ground. Everything happens quickly and I don’t have the time to process it all. I can only see Minthara’s hateful glare, her hands ready to rip me apart. Astarion is dragging me away from her while Karlach and Minsc hold her back.

“Hey, Minthy, Calm down. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” Karlach says, her voice as soothing as possible yet strained by the effort.

Wyll and Shadowheart are on their feet too, ready to intervene. But they don’t seem to know where to begin. The rest of the group observe in silence.

“What in the Hells!” I finally manage to gasp, still dumbfounded by this unexpected turn of events. “What do you mean she did it for me?!”

“It is so easy for you to pretend you know nothing, is it not?” Minthara spits. “At least I acknowledged my mistakes. I had the courage to admit my deeds!”

“Enough!” I snap back at her, my voice raising with authority as a powerful jolt of frustration ran through my body. “Do not talk to me like this, Minthara!”

Astarion’s arms tighten around me.

Minthara opens her mouth to reply but Jaheira steps in. There is no sympathy on her face, neither for me nor the Drow. “Wait! Ellith doesn't remember.”

I stare at her, fists clenching, jaws tensing.

“After you left the temple, we kept on searching for information." The high-harper explains coldly. "There was a stack of old letters piled up in a corner. All addressed to you, Ellith.”

Ellith… Jaheira hasn’t called me by name for many weeks now. I suppose I should forget about the 'cub'. I probably didn't deserve that nickname in the first place.

She crosses her arms against her chest, her face emotionless. “Random letters from Bhaalists, most of them. And some from Orin.” She sais as a matter of fact.

“Very disturbing letters.” Shadowheart breathes, stepping forward carefully. “Orin;.. she was obsessed with you. From what she wrote, we could barely tell if she was threatening or worshipping you.” “Not unusual among Bhalspawns…” Jaheira asserts. “That’s how your kin is raised, as rotten tokens of Bhaal’s wickedness.”

“I wasn’t raised as a Bhaalspawn!" I retort, way too harshly, but at this point I do not care anymore. "Astarion can testify, He knows I wasn’t one of the them when I was a kid!”

His grip tighten even more around me, almost painfully now.

“Ah!” Jaheira scoffs, shaking her head. “So you were better than Orin, is that what you are saying? Better than Sarevok? Ellith, you planned all this! You stole Karsus’ Crown to control the Brain! If you were better than them, it was in serving Bhaal.”

I shake my head dismissively, determined to deny any further accusations.

“She adored you…” Minthara growls, almost shaking in her rage. “Orin… she…”

“She did this to me!” I yelled, taking my head between my hands. “she messed up with my brain and delivered me to this necromancer to cut me open!”

“And you deserved it.” The Drow snarls as she frees herself from Minsc and Karlach’s grasps. She glances one more time at me, disgust painted all over her face, and storms out of the room.

I don’t understand. Despite her harshness and questionable ambitions, Minthara had never let me down, showing support and understanding when I first told her about my origins.

“The letters. What do they say?” I bluntly ask my companions .

“Before she betrayed you, Orin had a present for you.” Wyll answers, his voice unusually sombre. He picks up a piece of parchment which had been placed on the central table. Carefully, the warlock hands it to me, making sure to not step too close. Behind me, Astarion is tensing. I can feel his cold breath against me.

I look down at the creased letter and the vampire spawn looks over my shoulder as I silently read the message.

-----

“Divine sibling,

I have found the most perfect toy for you. That feral Drow who dared threaten us, remember? Thorm let her in for dinner… and the moment I saw her, I knew you would relish in her screams. The old man let me take her for you. Just for you.

I am keeping her in the colony, where she will witness the dismembering of her little companions... Waiting for you to come play with her.

I am waiting too, beloved Chosen. Hurry and join us in Moonrise to accomplish Father’s will.

Orin the Red”

-----

I feel devastated. Even Astarion’s hands falter against me. He clearly doesn’t like what he’s reading.

I know there’s nothing I can say to alleviate the situation.

A new toy.

I feel sick.

Save for Astarion, none of my companions had ever saw me so dismayed, trembling and wincing in total silence. 

“Minthara doesn’t remember seeing you back then in Moonrise.” Shadowheart explains calmly. “You probably never get to hurt her. Whether you didn’t want to or didn’t… get the time to. We will probably never know.”

Shadowheart’s words are supposed to be comforting, that much is clear to me, but they don’t help. Perhaps I never touched Minthara, but Orin knew me, and Orin deemed her an appropriate gift for my twisted mind. That was the person I used to be, someone who would ask Orin to find me 'toys', someone who would make lists of valuable people to turn into slaves…

Withers shouldn’t have brought me back.

He should have let me rot beside Orin.

I peek at the mysterious walking corpse, standing in the corner of the room. Unreadable, as usual. He’s not even looking at us. A part of me wants to run up to him, shake him and order him to send my blood back to Bhaal.

My fingers crease the letter, turning it into a messy ball.  

I step away from Astarion without even thinking about it, as if my body knew by itself that I shouldn’t be around anyone.

What Orin did to Minthara, what she did to me... What if I had planned the same thing for Astarion? 'DO NOT TADPOLE - I HAVE OTHER PLANS FOR HIM.'

I want to throw up. To scream. To gauge my own eyes out.

My fingers are absent-mindedly playing with the ring on my ear, guilt gnawing on my guts.  

My friends, they deserve better, they deserve someone they can trust, not the monster I happen to be. 

And I need answers.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Chapter 18: Flight To Falkradia

Warnings: serious crash land, severe injury, broken bones

A whole day passed for everyone to take a break from things, before they all grouped back up together in the main room of the lab to try and brainstorm ideas for stopping Shadow’s manic brother from destroying the city.

   "So? What's the plan?" Thomas huffed in frustration. Usually coming up with genius plans was his area of expertise, but this time, even he was at a loss. He’d already spent hours straight searching for answers, but had still come out empty-handed in the end.

   "Well, as you already know, Rowan has proven to be quite difficult to take down, since he has the advantage of both numbers and firepower," Tanner started.

   "And as YOU already know, we already know all that. Your point?" Thomas rolled his eyes. He hated it when people added unnecessary drama to things.

   "So what if we get some weapons of our own to level the playing field? We may not be large in numbers, but if we have enough ‘gunpower’, so to speak, we might at least stand a small chance against him. We have already discovered that guns and rifles don’t easily kill Shrike, but what if we got something else that did?"

   "And where do you suppose we will find these ‘weapons’ you speak of? We already have every weapon you can think of in this lab. My father loved making new toys to try out." Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, wracking his brain for ideas.

   "I am not referring to anything you have in this lab. I am talking about weapons that defy your human laws of physics and science as you know it."

   Thomas noticed Shadow suddenly stiffen in the corner, eyes growing dark and furious with realization. "No! Absolutely not! That is out of the question!" She barked suddenly, causing Roy, who was standing next to her, to jump in surprise. She glared at Tanner angrily. "You should know better than to even bring that topic to mind." Her lip curled, revealing sharp white fangs.

   "I feel like I'm missing something here?" Thomas interjected.

   "Shadow, please. We are losing this game, and we need to put all our cards on the table." Tanner spoke softly, completely ignoring Thomas.

   "We don't even know if it's possible to travel there anymore. And even if we did, I outright refuse to go back there," Shadow snapped, clearly hoping to end the topic.

   "We might not have another choice. It is only a few days until Rowan will be ready to activate the device that could level the city, and we are still not even close to being ready to face him, let alone his army of creepy canines."

   "HEY!” Thomas yelled loudly, snagging both of their attention. "Can someone PLEASE tell me what on earth you are talking about?"

   Tanner and Shadow exchanged a look.

   "You're the one that brought it up in the first place. Go ahead and tell him about your crazy stupid idea," Shadow spat venomously, glaring darkly at him.

   Tanner sighed wearily. "The weapons I was implying we should try to obtain... They are from the ancient island city called Falkradia. The one Shadow mentioned when she told you about where the Eagle Eye came from and how it was created. It’s basically the home of every Falkry that ever existed."

   "And that is bad because...?" Thomas pressed.

   "Like I mentioned before, it was attacked by humans many decades ago. But what you didn’t know is that it's the reason I came to this blasted city to begin with, as well as every other Falkry you have seen. The original generations, that is. We were driven out of our home," Shadow finished icily, staring hard at the ground. "It's also where my parents died, and countless others as well. I vowed I would never go back there again after that day."

   Thomas was stunned speechless.

   Of all the possible answers that I had predicted, I did not see that one coming.

   He was taken away from his thoughts when Tanner started to speak again.

   "You have only seen a small fraction of what kind of weapons Falkrians have created. Shadow brought some of it back with her when we were fleeing the island during the attack. The strong, sharp metal her daggers are made of came from there. And there are far more powerful tools that were left behind. Ones specifically designed for killing Shrike." He cleared his throat, looking like he was about to go into a long explanation.

   “Shrike were the biggest and most dangerous nuisance pest we ever encountered on Falkradia, and so we had to invent a way to exterminate them, but without bullets, as you have already seen their ineffectiveness. The beasts are built like a tank with very few natural vulnerabilities. So we created spears and blades that are coated in the sap from a plant that’s only found on Falkradia. The sap is highly lethal to Shrike, so all you have to do is tag one enough to draw some blood, and they’ll be dead in minutes.

   “How does that work, exactly?” Thomas asked, brow furrowing.

   “From our studies, we discovered that there is a neurotoxin in the sap that targets and attacks the nerves directly, destroying them at an insane rate of speed. As soon as the toxin enters the bloodstream, it races to the nervous system and causes everything to basically decay all at once. It works fast and efficiently to paralyze and kill the prey so that the carnivorous plant can devour it as soon as possible.”

   “That’s… absolutely terrifying,” Thomas commented bluntly, looking horrified. “Isn’t that dangerous to handle, though? What if someone accidently cut themselves? Does the neurotoxin work on Falkry?”

   “One question at a time,” Tanner chuckled. “Firstly, we were always incredibly careful when handling spears coated in the sap. And we never actually had an accident where someone injured themselves with one, so I’m not certain how to answer the last two, but I assume it has the same effect on Falkry. It’s only dangerous if it gets into the bloodstream, though. It’s perfectly safe to handle otherwise, as long as you don’t get it in any open wounds.” His gaze grew thoughtfully distant for a moment, before he shook his head. “Those spears were a Falkry’s best friend when it came to dealing with Shrike. But the problem is getting to the island in one piece to retrieve such weapons.”

   "Oh? Why's that?" Thomas inquired, raising an eyebrow.

   "The island is protected by an eternal storm that only breaks every twenty years or so. The humans attacked during one of the breaks, which is how they were able to get their men through unharmed. Otherwise they would have literally been ripped to shreds. Only a Falkry has the means to navigate it."

   "And unfortunately, I haven't flown through it in more than a century, so I am not sure I am even still capable of finding the wind tunnel," Shadow added.

   "Wind tunnel?" Thomas's mind was working overtime processing all the new information.

   "It's like a secret passage through the storm. A peaceful center balance. Like the eye of a hurricane. If you can find the tunnel, you can travel to the island unharmed."

   "What if I went instead?" Roy interjected. "Can I help?"

   Shadow laughed out loud humorlessly. "Not in the least, runt. I am at least twice as fast as you are, plus I am far more experienced. You'd only get yourself killed. If I can't do it, no one can."

   The young Falkry recoiled slightly and hung his head dejectedly, and slunk away to go play with Kenji some more.

   "That was a bit harsh, don't you think? You could have been a bit nicer," Tanner said pointedly. Shadow scowled at him.

   "That was me being nice," she retorted.

   Tanner tapped his fingers on a desk thoughtfully. "What if we use a gravity belt?"

   "What? You lost me there."

   "What if we use a gravity belt to carry the weapons back from Falkradia?"

   "That is implying that we can even get there to begin with."

   "I might have a way to solve that problem," Thomas offered.

   "Oh?" Shadow cocked her head to one side.

   "I have a weather mapping system that might help us predict where the least amount of the storm's energy is, which would indicate that the wind tunnel is present, if it is truly like the eye of a hurricane, as you said before. It should be able to detect the lull in it and show you where you could enter."

   Tanner clapped his hands together in exaggerated applause.

   "Genius! Pure genius! See, Shadow? There's our plan. So will you do it? Will you fly to Falkradia, one last time?"

   All eyes turned to stare at her, waiting for an answer.

   She was deathly still, and Thomas could see an entire war of emotions crossing over her features... anger, pain, grief, regret, sorrow, confliction, hesitancy... but finally, the one everyone was looking for... resolve.

   "...Fine. I'll do it. But only this one last time," she growled reluctantly with a small shudder. "Thomas, get started on finding that tunnel. I'll leave as soon as you have a location." She started turning to leave when she heard Tanner's voice behind her.

   "Not so fast, Shadow. There is no way you are going there alone. If anything happens, you might need backup," he said. She stopped in her tracks.

   "And who do you suppose I take with me, hmm? The young Falkry is just dead weight and practically useless in this type of situation, Kenji won't be strong enough to fly through the storm and get to the wind tunnel to begin with, and you yourself would be too heavy to carry that far, even with a gravity belt, considering that I will probably have to fight through the worst of the storm before reaching the tunnel. It would slow me down too much, and I would tire too quickly."

   "So, you need someone relatively small and lightweight, and who is also capable of assisting in your mission. I can think of one person that fits that criteria." Tanner raised his eyebrows, implying.

   "M-Me?" Thomas asked, a little surprised that he had vouched for him.

   "Are you sure about that? How is he going to help me?" Shadow snorted, unconvinced.

   "For one, you can't find the wind tunnel without him and his weather device, and he is probably the only one who knows how to use it anyway. Second, he has the brains to likely get you out of trouble should you encounter any," Tanner replied, shrugging innocently.

   "Are you trying to imply that I get into trouble often?" The feathers on her wings bristled.

   "Well, you certainly aren't known for staying out of it by any means." Tanner chuckled to himself until he caught the poisonous glare that Shadow sent his way.

   "Ugh, fine. Whatever. I see your point, though I don't agree with it. Thomas will accompany me to Falkradia." Shadow's gaze flicked over to look at Thomas. "If you're up for it, that is."

   Thomas felt a zing of excitement race down his spine. He didn't usually get excited about much else than computers or fancy technology, but visiting the Falkry’s homeland? Who knew what kind of crazy flora and fauna dwelled there. There were probably hundreds of undiscovered species of insects alone. So many mysteries just waiting to be explored. He nodded to Shadow in acceptance of the task, his curiosity getting the better of him.

   "Great. That settles it then. I'll start gathering supplies. Tanner, do you think you can keep Rowan from doing too much damage while we're gone? It will most likely be a day or two before we get back."

   "I'll do my best not to disappoint!" Tanner saluted her dramatically, his inner comedian showing through.

   Shadow rolled her eyes. "You better not," she muttered under her breath. Then, turning to Thomas again, "we leave in an hour."

   And sure enough, almost exactly an hour later, everything was ready to go. 

   Thomas brought a small bag with his cellphone, the weather tracker, and communications device to the table where Shadow had placed what Thomas assumed was the survival gear she had talked about earlier.

   "This is everything we should need for the journey there and back." She dropped a small backpack in front of him. "Let me see what you're bringing." She took the bag from his hand and dumped out the contents. She picked up the cellphone and communications device and set them aside. "You won't be needing those where we're going."

   "Are you sure about that? A communications device of some sort certainly seems like a good idea to have with us," Thomas said.

   "They will be useless once we enter the island's outer atmosphere. Only Falkrian tech works there, and it is specially designed with materials already found naturally there, which makes them immune to the scrambling effect that the island has on human technology. We don't know why it works that way, it just does. Now, are you ready to go?"

   "As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, doing his best to swallow his nervousness.

   Shadow led Tanner and him to the roof of the lab, where something that resembled a small square tarp was laid out. There were holes in each of its four corners that had a circular metal piece in it for extra support. Thomas raised an eyebrow at it suspiciously. 

   "And what does this thing do, exactly?" He inquired.

   "That is our ride to Falkradia," Shadow answered, not batting an eye.

   Thomas paled. "You–You're joking, right? It’s not possible for you to carry both of us and all of our equipment for the distance that we must travel."

   “Thomas, since when have I ever told a joke?” She sighed, lifting a harness from the ground. Attached to it was a thick rope with a clip on the end. “That's why I have this little contraption." She passed it to him so he could get a good look at it.

   "It's called a gravity belt. More Falkradian tech. It reduces the weight of whatever is attached to it by more than half, which should be enough to get us on the air."

   "Should be?" Thomas squeaked, swallowing nervously. He was having second thoughts about signing up for this.

   "You're not afraid of heights, are you?" Shadow teased mockingly, seeing the alarm on his face.

   "Of course not! I'm just not a fan of flying in something that looks so... unstable," he sputtered defensively.

   Flying in a plane is very different from flying in a small bag hundreds of feet above ground with no parachute. What could possibly go wrong? His thoughts did little to reassure him

   “Well, too late to back out now. Go sit in the middle." She pointed at the tarp. Thomas swallowed the fear rising in the back of his throat and did as he was instructed, dreading what would come next.

   "Here, we'll want to bring this along." Shadow handed him a large backpack, after stuffing the smaller backpack inside it.

   "What's this?" Thomas asked.

   "Emergency supplies. For when we crash." She laughed hard at the terrified expression that overtook hiss face.

   “Feeling distinctly un-reassured over here…” He said tightly.

   "Relax. It's more of a 'just on case' kit. It has a pop-up sleeping bag, medical supplies, and just about everything else you could need for a night in the wilderness. It's best to prepare for the worst and hope for the best, if you know what I mean." She tossed him the weather tracker, which he fumbled trying to catch. "That should be all. Are you ready?"

   "I-I'm not so sure about this," Thomas said, his voice shaking slightly.

   "So that's a yes." Shadow flashed a fang-filled grin at him as she finished putting the harness on. She grabbed the four corners of the tarp and clipped them into place on the gravity belt.

   "Fly safe!" Tanner called.

   "Don't worry about us. Just do your best to keep my brother occupied while we're gone." And with that, she tucked her wings and dove off the roof, dragging a terrified Thomas behind her.

   He let out a yelp of fear and his stomach flipped as they fell, diving straight down along the side of the building. After a few meters Shadow snapped her wings open, catching a strong tailwind. She heard a relieved sigh from Thomas below her in the tarp as she leveled out, and smiled to herself, amused.

   It was early evening, and Thomas watched as the oceanside city started to grow distant behind them, the flickering city lights disappearing over the distant horizon. They were flying over the open ocean now, further and further away from the lab, and he could see the distorted reflection of Shadow’s ghostly white wings in the water below. They had been flying for roughly two hours when Thomas's weather radar finally started to beep.

   "You got something?" Shadow yelled down to him.

   "Yes, it finally picked up the storm. We need to head a bit further East,” he shouted back.

   Shadow altered her flight course accordingly until they were heading straight for what appeared to be a gigantic swirling, angry whirlwind of clouds with lightning flashing in its core. A wall of a storm. It was rather unusual because everywhere else the clouds were light and fluffy, with blue sky behind them, and the calm, gaping ocean below. It was the kind of day that one might even ponder a trip to the beach.

   Thomas felt his heart leap into his throat as Shadow plowed forward without slowing. As soon as she flew through the outmost cloud layer of the storm, the whole scene changed. It went from clear, calm skies, to chaotic winds buffeting them from all sides, constantly changing directions unpredictably, and rain poured down in heavy sheets. A hurricane of war. Shadow struggled to maintain her balance in the air. 

   They had been fighting the storm for more than fifteen long minutes when Shadow finally started to falter. She was exhausted.

   Maybe coming here was a mistake, she thought, squinting through the haze. No. I can't go back now. Not that I could even find my way of this…. I can barely see a few meters in front of me.

   A white blur in her peripheral view caught her attention, and she glanced in its direction, immediately regretting it. A miserable deceased seagull was being tossed around like a ragdoll, its shredded, tattered wings sticking out at odd angles, and its eyes rolling around in their sockets. She quickly looked away.

   Don't think about it... Don't think about it... She shut the horrified thoughts off in her head to regain her focus. She tried to remember what her mentor had taught her when she was first learning how to navigate the storm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the wet air, feeling the humidity press against her skin.

   Suddenly, it was like her mentor was flying right there beside her, guiding her just like he had done all those years ago. The sounds of the storm slowly faded away, growing more and more distant, until all she could hear was her own heartbeat, strong and steady.

   Concentrate. Her mentor's deep voice rang clearly in her head. You must search for it with your heart, not your eyes, for sight can be deceived, but the soul never lies.

   Shadow focused her senses on the atmosphere around her, tuning out every other thought in her head. She listened to the distant noise of the thunder, and could hear every last one of a thousand raindrops as they pounded on her white wings, then rolled off the tips of her feathers with each downstroke. She felt the weight of the cargo beneath her, and every small wind current that passed by.

   Let your spirit guide you home.

   The voice in her head began to fade to an echo and the roar of the storm came rushing back. She opened her eyes to see the rain directly beneath her changing... shifting, somehow. It began swirling in elegant circles, like a whirlpool, or a tornado... it seemed to defy the very laws of physics, and the water did not fall down to the earth like every other droplet did.

   The tunnel! She realized with a jolt. I found it!

   As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the swirling tunnel of rain started to disappear before her eyes just as quickly as it had come, as she had broken her focus.

   I can't miss this shot!

   Without thinking twice, she abruptly tucked her wings in close to her body and streaked down towards the rapidly dissipating tunnel, dragging her terrified luggage with her into a vertical plummet. Shadow squinted through the rain that pelted the black mask on her face as they entered the tunnel.

   The wind roared like an angry lion in her ears as she picked up speed. It screamed through her feathers, a deafening noise that filled the air around her. And then suddenly, the dark storm clouds and low visibility ended, and a tree canopy appeared out of nowhere and rushed up to meet them.

   "Hold on!" Shadow yelled, hoping Thomas could hear her. She pulled up sharply, snapping her wings open in a vain attempt to halt their descent.

   Unfortunately, it only served to slow it down. The momentum was too great for her wings to stop, and combined with the added weight beneath her, it dragged them forward regardless of attempts made to stop. The moment before impact, Shadow unhooked her harness, detaching herself from the tarp containing Thomas. This way, they would hopefully not get tangled and become stranded in the treetops.

   They both came forcefully crashing through the canopy, making much noise as they fell, snapping twigs and demolishing branches. Thomas was fortunate and only hit smaller branches on his way down, and ended up landing on a soft bed of thick moss at the base of one of the tree trunks that greatly cushioned the impact.

   Shadow, on the other hand, was not so lucky. She landed hard on her stomach on a large limb on the way down with a sickening crack, and heard two of her ribs break. The force drove every last bit of air from her lungs.

   Her hands scrabbled desperately for purchase on the limb's slick surface as she gasped for air, but they didn't find any, and she slipped off and continued her fall to earth. Her head spun as everything whizzed by in a flash, branches lashing out at her like angry snakes, each one leaving its mark. At one point, there was a white-hot flash of pain in her right wing that went streaking across her shoulder.

   Finally, she reached the end of her descent and landed on hard ground with a dull thud among some exposed tree roots. Blue sparks danced in front of her eyes as her magic started to mend the broken bones. Then they fizzed out, and she knew that she was nearly out of it. The flight had sapped her strength.

   Darkness ate at the corners of her vision as she craned her head painfully to try and find Thomas. The tree roots she had landed in obscured her sight somewhat, but not enough to completely block her vision. A small distance away she spotted the green tarp wriggling on the ground, harness and gravity belt still attached, as Thomas struggled to find a way out. At least he's alive… She thought fuzzily. Then her mind sank into unconsciousness as her magic shut her body down to recover.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

City of Monsters and Magic Masterlist

Main Stories Masterlist

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[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 3 - The Song of Naru (Part 1)

Things that happened in this chapter

- Yotube drama

- Mustaches

Watch Ooku guys!

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. Nakiryuu means “crying dragon” and it’s a common motif in Buddhist temples 

2. I don’t know what this means. I think it’s some kind of Japanese wordplay that flew over my head

3. Oogiri is “a form of comedy that focuses on improvisation by providing a funny answer on the spot for a question or thematic topic”

Previous | Next

Haneina High School’s Asahina was eating an onigiri.

He had spread out a picnic blanket in the courtyard during the bright afternoon and was eating lunch. Next to him, Eddie was stuffing his cheeks with triangular onigiris. Before studying abroad, he had learned of the existence of onigiri after watching a Japanese historical drama, and now he was captivated by them. Every day he thought about what to use for the filling, and today’s filling was kiwi fruit.

When Asahina was on a school trip in elementary school, he saw that only his onigiris were cylindrical while everyone else’s were triangle-shaped and thought, Huh? Why am I the only one who’s different? He asked his mother about it after he returned home, and she told him that she was from Kansai and that onigiri had always been made like this back home. Apparently, it was easier to pack in a lunch box.

There was an unpleasant scraping sound, and Asahina stopped eating.

“Ow, I bit the inside of my mouth.”

“If you bite the inside of your mouth, that is your body’s way of informing you that you are eating too much and it doesn’t wish to eat anymore.”

“Really?”

A quick internet search revealed that when the body was in poor condition, such as fatigue or poor physical condition, it was difficult to control jaw movement well. It said to get plenty of rest and get in shape. It had a point. Last night, he had been too focused on video editing and didn’t get enough sleep. Eating too much—he did have second helpings of Wan-Nyan cheese curry at the place he visited yesterday.

The Haneina second-year Asahina You and American exchange student Eddie Fox were Yotubers who ran the channel “Yumihiki Douji” together, and they were well-received. The standard orange kyudo uniform was Haneina’s color. They also had customized orange bows and arrows, all of which were uniquely theirs.

Anyways, it was “aesthetic.” Rather than kyudo that emphasizes spirituality, they aimed for kyudo that people could enjoy watching.

On today’s practice, Asahina wore a pongee kimono as he drew his bow. When he learned that the kyudo wear he usually wore was training wear and that people wore kimono in formal occasions, he started to collect kimonos. It was said that patterns weren’t allowed and solid colors were OK, but finding those were difficult. Kimonos were expensive, so most of them were recycled items, and washable polyester materials were tried as well.

Their videos were almost completely ignored as soon as they were uploaded, and after a while they were filled with comments like “their shooting form is terrible,” “they’re so bad,” “that hairstyle is so ugly,” and “you’re disrespecting kyudo.” But since it was for class, they updated every week, and positive comments like “I look forward to it every week” and “Same same. I learned so much from them.” As they took in the opinions and feedback of the viewers, their archery skills also improved. Recently, their collaboration project with a channel about Japan became trending.

One day, someone wrote in the comment section, “I started kyudo because I admired Zen in the Art of Archery. Can everyone in Japan do what Awa-sensei did?” It was a request from a foreign viewer.

Shooting a target in the dark.

Two arrows were shot in the dark. The first one pierced the center of the target, and the second one split the first one down the middle, the shaft halved in order to reach the center. This was a superhuman feat. Asahina had also heard this story from his grandfather when he was young, and it remained somewhere in the back of his mind. He would love to attempt it. Even if he didn’t hit the center, he would probably hit the target at least.

The results were terrible. He couldn’t see the target at all after turning off the lights in the target area. They tried lighting mosquito repelling incense, but they only produced faint white trails of smoke and he couldn’t find his aim. When they went to pick up the arrows, they found that the arrows had avoided the targets and pierced the azuchi at an angle, or landed right in front of them. It looked like a battlefield. Now he knew how much he usually relied on his eyesight.

He had considered trying again during daytime, but it was no use in the first place. If you could aim and hit, then you’d already hit. The shape of the bow, which had existed since the beginning of time, had changed, and despite the difference in materials, it had reached a point where it couldn’t be changed anymore. And now it had reached the present. The Japanese bow, which had been imbued with the lives of generations of bow makers, was a tool that even the wisdom of mankind couldn’t yet control.

That was why the bow chose the wielder. What should one do to be chosen?

Asahina gave a big stretch.

“Haa, ‘don’t do today what you can do tomorrow.’ Tomorrow is fine, so let’s think about it tomorrow.”

“’Tis a Turkish proverb. This humble one takes it to mean, ‘Do it today because you may not be able to do it tomorrow,’” Eddie said.

“Really?”

Can’t be helped. They were going to stay at the kyudojo until nighttime today as well.

He heard the gathering bell. He listened to the nostalgic sound that tinted the sky an azure color.

He heard the gathering bell. He listened to the nostalgic sound that tinted the sky an azure color.

On that day, Asahina and Eddie were at the temple gate.

The two walked along the cobblestone path to the main hall. Two dragons were painted on the ceiling of this temple, and when they clapped their hands in prayer right below them, there was an echo like the roaring of dragons. They were called nakiryuu. (1) In fact, the two of them met in this nakiryuu room, and moreover, it was in a dream.  Their conversation went something like, “It’s been a while. When was it, a few hundred years ago?” “Well then, shall we go all out?” When they actually met each other at school, they were both silent, wondering if this was a continuation of the dream.

There was a fellow second-year of the Haneina kyudo club standing in the temple.

“You guys really like the nakiryuu room, don’t you,” the fierce-looking Matsuda said.

“I guess so,” Asahina answered.

“I don’t really know what the dragon’s expression is like, but the resonating sound when you clap your hands together feels good.”

Matsuda was poor-sighted. He couldn’t see the outlines of things very well, but he had a great ability to sense the presence and feelings of people. He could tell that Asahina and Eddie had an unusual relationship, but he thought that it was something that must not be mentioned. He liked watching their red and gold hair sway, so he quietly stayed by their side. The three of them chatted with each other a lot, and right now Matsuda was putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He felt an unfounded sense of security that these two sun-colored people would never treat him like a freak or exclude him.

On the other hand, the fourth member of Haneina’s kyudo club, Kanuma, was a man who went at his own pace and didn’t care about anything. He was obsessed with haikus, and when he started thinking about them, he often got lost in his own world and froze in the middle of conversations. Incidentally, his haiku skills were mediocre.

Even right now, he was muttering to the temple wall.

“Maybe a line about dragons? It’s even more difficult if the motif is mundane.”

“Kanuma, have you composed a poem? I’d like to collaborate with you on a haiku and kyudo project for the next Yumihiki Douji video,” Asahina asked. “Yeah,” Kanuma answered.

“Kanuma, I want to ride the dragon on the ceiling. Can you help me?” Matsuda asked, and was answered with “Yeah.” No matter what was said to him, he only answered, “Yeah.” Eddie threw in the towel. “This is hopeless.”

There was another person glued to the wall. More precisely, a boy was staring at the patterns on the wall.

Igarashi had a nickname: the Gardening Prince. He grew various plants, took precious care of them, and drew them. His bows and arrows were decorated with a profusion of flower drawings, and at competitions, the people of other schools let out gasps of admiration when they saw his bow and arrows.

After imprinting the pattern on the wall into his eyes, he looked at Asahina.

“I saw the last Yumihiki Douji. There was another comment from ‘that guy.’ Is everything alright?”

“Oh, you’re talking about ‘Tetsi’ right?”

“They write complaints in other people’s comment section every time. Isn’t that like going into other people’s houses and renting a room?”

As their views increased, someone calling themselves “Seigi no Tetsui” would write things like, “Kyudo is a traditional Japanese martial art” and “What kind of kyudoka would have red or blond hair? If you’re Japanese, dye your hair black like a Japanese.”

Eddie waved his own blond ponytail at Matsuda.

“My blond hair is my natural hair, and I am not Japanese, but American, so how about that?”

“It’s an old trick to throw in mistakes on purpose to get people to bite, isn’t it? Don’t get lured in.”

“As you say. I shall ignore it.”

Kanuma, who they thought wasn’t listening, turned around, gave a thumbs-up and grinned.

The Yotube channel “Yumihiki Douji” was Asahina and Eddie’s channel, but it was actually run by the six of them: Matsuda, Kanuma, Igarashi, and Coach Tsuchiya.  

When the five exited the temple gate, they heard the laughter of elementary schoolers on their way home from school.

It happened at the end of the holidays.

A protest was posted on several channels set up by Haneina students with the title “Attention Haneina High School.” The writer was Tetsi, or “Seigi no Tetsui.”

Your school is making students selfish and egotistical in the name of freedom. Since children are immature beings, adults should firmly admonish them to follow the rules of the world. Someone who isn’t disciplined in that way would commit foolish acts later in life. The behavior of the kyudo club is especially unbearable to watch. Kyudo uniforms are white. This should be stopped immediately. They are a disgrace to kyudoka—.

Because the school was named, a staff meeting was held.

The principal said, “Our school’s educational philosophy is to ‘cultivate people with reading comprehension and communication skills.’ Listen carefully, think for yourself, and share your opinions. Communicate calmly with people who have different opinions. Videos are the place to practice these things. First, Tsuchiya-sensei will show the students an example. I shall take responsibility. Do it to the best of your ability.”

The next day, Coach Tsuchiya stood in front of a camera.

“To everyone who watches this channel, thank you for your continued support. My name is Tsuchiya Ena, a teacher at Haneina High School, as well as the coach for the kyudo club. Recently, we received the following comment. As a faculty member, I sincerely apologize for my poor choice of words. From now on, I would like to choose my words more carefully. Regarding kyudo uniforms, in accordance with competition rules, we wear white during tournaments and only colored clothing during practice. We appreciate your understanding.”

The next day, a new video channel was opened. The owner was Tetsi. There was a black sheet covering their entire body, and they were wearing a Noh mask. Their voice was also modified.

“It’s one thing if you’re university students, but it’s deplorable for high school students to wear orange. It’s a lax mindset. There’s something you should do before worrying about your clothes. You should study harder. Are you going to destroy the traditions that kyudoka have cultivated over centuries?”

After this, Yumihiki Douji and Tetsi continued to post responses to each other’s videos.

――There is no basis for claiming that the students in our club aren’t diligent in their studies. The school will not publish data that only extracts the grades of some students. That is your delusion. Also, there is no reason why this is acceptable for university students but not for high school students. The white kyudo wear we wear for competitions is practice wear, and kimono is worn on formal occasions. By wearing kimono on a daily basis, the students are trained to avoid careless blunders in formal situations.

――Who does this young woman think she is? What kind of university did you go to? Don’t tell me you’re from an F-ranked school. A school that would hire such a bottom-of-the-barrel girl is clearly not worth anything. What a stupid school. There’s no point in talking to you. Get me the principal.

――The university you graduated from has nothing to do with your kyudo ability. In the past, there apparently used to be a section on the examination form where you must fill in your last place of education, but this has already been eliminated. The precept of our school is “learning from the past.” We visit the old to learn the new. You can’t break the mold if you don’t know it. We respect the teachings of our predecessors.

――Where’s the respect? You should respect your elders. I’m senior to you.

――I said the old, but predecessors aren’t necessarily older people, and just because someone is older does not mean they are superior. It’s just a way to honor a person’s achievements.

The videos were clipped and spread widely, and a controversy arose as to what color kyudo gi should be.

“It should be white.” “No, green should be OK as well.” “White, black, and navy blue are fine, but fluorescents are going too far, aren’t they? It’s too bright for the eyes.” “What color should I buy if it’s not white? Can I dye it lavender or something?” “Who’s this Tsucchi? Can the coach be my girlfriend?” “At my school, if you buy a different color, you’ll have to buy a new one, but I don’t have the money.” “I’m in the table tennis club, but I get more motivated when I chose a gi that stood out.” “The length of the sleeves is just right for kyudo gi, aren’t they?” “Tsucchi and Tetsi together make Tsutecchi.�� “My dad’s Chicchi.” “The bow’s micchi is kewacchi.” (2)

It was a flood of words that was pretty much just an oogiri. (3)

Asahina raised his hands.

“Hey, Tsucchi, let’s stop responding to Tetsi, okay? This is taking over the channel. Our channel name is Yumihiki Douji, right? The adults are butting in too much.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just got so mad when my adorable students got criticized.”

One day, Tetsi’s disguise got peeled off.

They wrote, “You guys should just shoot your bows quietly.”

Their comment section became a huge mess.

“It’s not ‘shooting a bow,’ it’s ‘drawing a bow.’ Saying you’re shooting a bow means you’re making a bow. If you’re an archer, that should have been the first thing they taught you.” “You’ve never referred to their shooting forms at all, have you? Maybe you don’t know the Eight Stages of Shooting at all? You’re not an archer at all, are you, Tetsi?”

The identification people showed up and very easily found Tetsi’s identity. Tetsi was a female office worker, a classmate of Tsucchi’s from the same university, and had zero kyudo experience. An hour later, all her videos were deleted, and Tetsi’s account was gone.

She was just an outsider who was stirring things up by using words she heard somewhere to provoke them. The flood that had been blocked by the dam continued to flow, and all the talk about what the color of kyudo gi should be got lost somewhere in the middle. Just what was all that fuss about?

The pair returned to normal operations.

“Hello, this is Asahina of ‘Yumihiki Douji.’”

“This humble one is called Eddie.”

“She, or rather, Coach Tsuchiya is working hard as a teacher, her main job. It’s encouraging, so if you like, please give her a high rating.”

The Kazemai High School kyudo club was continuing to work hard at practice today.

After the training camp, when everyone put on their hakama, there was a feeling of “this is what an archer is,” and they felt somewhat proud.

Tommy-sensei was holding a box. He pulled out small kasumi-mato from within. They were handmade by him, and the frame was made from the cores of duct tape.

“Now then, everyone, let’s use these mini targets today. For those who hit the target, I will give them a present along with this mini target.”

Tommy-sensei pointed to Masa-san, who was wearing a silver mustache. He was holding five “fake mustaches” in different colors.

Masa-san stroked the ends of his outward-curling mustache.

“If you put this on, you’ll become an archer like Tommy-sensei.”

Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo clasped their fingers in a prayer-like pose.

“I would just love to have the pink mustache. I shall do my best.”

“I guess I’d go for the light blue.”

“Black is classic. No, white might be fine too.”

The girls were excited for some reason and were choosing the color of their mustaches.

The mini targets really did look small once they were placed on the azuchi and the archers stood at the shooting line. They were smaller than the kinmato used for celebrations.

The first-years were standing in front of the targets. Nanao quickly put on his headband and was ready to go.

“I have to give it a try, don’t I? I’ll shoot through your heart!”

Several girls fainted in the stands.

While they were waiting for their turn, Keyaki and Kanbayashi were chatting. It was about the recent video incident.

“I’m glad that Asahina and Eddie from ‘Yumihiki Douji’ have recovered from this. I was thinking of unsubscribing if it became a channel for watching Tsucchi,” Keyaki said.

“If someone asked me what color I want my gi to be next time, I’ll go with white if possible. White is safe and effortless,” Kanbayashi said.

“I heard that most of the girls in the Kirisaki kyudo club were navy blue hakama in the summer. I thought that they were required to wear navy blue gi, but I was told that they run on a merit system and have no specific rules on what to wear.”

“I don’t think people who want to stand out in the first place would choose kyudo as their club activity. Archers gravitate towards the world of wabi-sabi and mania than dazzling luxury… It’s more that we prefer the austere and understated.”

While they were talking, arrows were being shot one after another, but without success. They were allowed to shoot the mini targets as many times as they wanted to within the time they were given, so everyone was going through their arrows.

In the fourth round, a beginner first-year successfully hit the target. Cheers erupted, and when the round was finished, everyone rushed forwards. They took back the mini target with the arrow in it and handed it to the person who shot it. They were moved to tears.

Time was up when each person had finished shooting up to four arrows.

In the end, only the first-year, Ryouhei, and Shiragiku were able to successfully hit the mini targets, while all the others were disappointed.

Kaito silently pulled out his arrows. His two arrows had pierced the azuchi around the mini target, as though avoiding it.

“If it had been the usual target, I would have landed all my arrows. To think I didn’t land a single hit…my training’s not enough.”

After returning from retrieving his arrows, Nanao took off his headband.

“Even when everyone didn’t hit the mini target, they’re closer to the center than usual. It’s strange.”

“So does that mean it’s possible to hit an arrow in the center if you’re conscious of it?”

Next to him, Seiya smiled daringly.

“But you’ll never become a master if you keep aiming and hitting at the target. You haven’t trained enough, have you.”

“Gaah, this is just full of contradictions.”

Minato was looking at the upper right, as though he was thinking about something.

“It’s like you’re looking, but you aren’t looking, and it’s like you’re not looking, but you are in fact looking. In kyudo and zazen, you don’t stare at a single point, but vaguely look with half-open eyes.”

Hearing that, Ryouhei approached Minato and Seiya from behind.

“I learned that in kendo. If you don’t focus on a single point and vaguely look at the whole body, you can quickly sense your opponent’s movements before anyone else. Basically, they’re telling you to not get caught up in the information coming in through your eyes.”

Masa-san was standing behind all of them.

“You guys noticed something important. Kendo and kyudo are both martial arts, so they have a lot in common. Takuan Osho left behind the phrase ‘kenzen ichinyo,’ where ichinyo means the state of being one. In English, it’s explained as ‘The sword and zen are one.’”

Keyakia and Kanbayashi had both stopped cleaning and were leaning forward to listening. Himuro was of course unmoving.

“First of all, you have to get used to it. As you gain experience, you accumulate data, and your body learns trends and countermoves. The ultimate goal is to be able to draw a bow in the same way no matter when, where, or under what circumstances. Well, I also had a tough time getting there as well.”

Keyaki became at a loss upon hearing that.

“If even Masa-san says it’s difficult, I wonder when I’ll be able to do it.”

“Don’t rush, don’t rush. Miyamoto Musashi also wrote in the Book of Five Rings, ‘See to it that you temper yourself with one thousand days of practice, and refine yourself with ten thousand days of training.’ Have you learned the essence of ‘No-Look Shooting’ of the Kazemai-ryuu? Now, take these as a souvenir.”

Tommy-sensei prepared slightly smaller mustaches as participation prizes. They were handed out when practice was over, and everyone wore them on the way home.

The next day, people started calling the kyudo club, the “Mustache Club.”

Tsucchi, a.k.a. Haneina High School faculty member Tsuchiya Ena, was being followed by a suspicious person.

The suspicious person was dressed in baggy clothing, and wearing a mask and a hat pulled deeply over their face. She had been followed by people in the past, but this one seemed particularly persistent. They followed her to work and back home every day.

“Tsucchi, shouldn’t you tell the police about this soon?” Asahina said.

“It is as Asahina said,” Eddie said.

“Mm, thank you. But some people get mad when you involve the police, so I’ll observe the situation for a few more days. Maybe they’ll get tired of it soon.”

“We understand, but if anything should happen, please notify us immediately.”

It happened on her day off.

When she finished shopping and passed through the crowd, she sensed someone following her. When she increased her speed, they got even closer and she could hear their heavy breathing behind her. It made her feel so sick that she finally couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Hey, who are you? Are you Tetsi? Stop this. If you have something to say, show your face!”

Suddenly, the suspicious person attacked her. She quickly got onto the defensive and dodged, but since she was wearing heels that day, her feet got caught on the unevenness of the ground, causing her to stumble.

Crap, she thought, covering her face, but no impact came. When she slowly opened one eye, she saw a man catching the fist of her attacker.

The tall man spoke.

“I know you’re following this person. I’m willing to go to the police with this.”

The wrist he grabbed was thin—the suspicious person was a young woman.

The woman threw out her back and prostrated herself on the ground.

She was screaming.

“I’ve cancelled my phone, but I’ve still been getting a lot of phone calls at work, and the girls I used to be friendly with won’t even talk to me anymore, so there’s no place for me anymore! My life is all messed up because of that woman!”

“This is called reaping what you sow, and in Buddhism, it’s called karmic justice. However, the reaction to a single karma is only once, and it isn’t a chain reaction.”

Tetsi slammed her hat and mask to the ground. She looked just like an ordinary woman, so she didn’t look like the type to write such coarse words. Her hands tore at her hair.

“But, isn’t it unfair!? In university, I tried to talk to Tsucchi, but I got ignored, you know!? She was active in kyudo, everyone makes a fuss over her on Yotube for being a beautiful woman, and she can say whatever she wants to say! Even though we’re the same age, she’s the only one who ever got help, and I got left alone because I’m not cute! After rewriting it over and over and sending it to the planning committee, they rejected it, saying that it was ‘a proposal that was too womanly. Do it again.’ Does that mean I can’t be trusted without a title!?”

She started talking to herself.

Aah, this is such a pain. I don’t remember being approached by her. I worked hard at kyudo, and I have nothing to do with her not doing well at work. Either get back at your boss or quit. Just as Tsucchi was thinking that, the man bent down.

“I don’t know about other men, but all women look beautiful to me. Please raise your head.”

Tetsi looked up as instructed. The man continued.

“You don’t need to change your appearance or title. Just stop belittling yourself. You don’t have to beat anyone to live.”

“…Are you a Buddhist priest? Your head isn’t shaved, so maybe you’re wearing a wig? Ah, I’m so sorry!”

“…How about using that imagination to change jobs to become a screenwriter?”

What’s with this skit?

Don’t tell me that this is some kind of hidden camera prank?

While Tsucchi was thinking this, the man picked up the fallen bag and hat and handed them to Tetsi. He looked as though he was about withdraw at any moment.

“Please wait! Just who are you?”

The man turned around. “I’m just a Shinto priest passing by. You’re Ena-senpai, huh. It’s a good name. I’m rooting for you.”

That was all he said before he quickly left.

Tetsi also said “I’m sorry” and left, leaving Tsucchi all alone.

Oi oi, isn’t he too much of a smooth talker?

Not a Buddhist priest, but Shinto? How incredibly shady.

She could still understand where Tetsi was coming from. That was because Tsucchi also had similar experiences, such as being made fun of because “she’s just a woman,” being sexually harassed and groped on the train. She had the appearance of a woman but was a middle-aged man on the inside, so she just beat them all up. In addition, she was called “Ena-senpai.” Not many people called her that.

She searched her past memories and came across a person with a similar face.

When she was a third year in high school, the start of the awards ceremony was delayed. It was said that the name of the archer who won the kyudo boys’ competition, the one who hit with all his arrows, was different. Because he had used his old name when he entered, so he took part in the tournament under that name. It was dealt with without issue, although it appeared to have been pointed out from within.

She remembered that remarkable ochi. In another tournament, when Tsucchi was about to have her arm grabbed by her male junior, the taller boy made a loud sound that scared off the younger boy.

After that, she thought that the reason why she couldn’t find his name in the student tournaments was because his last name had changed, but she never saw his face at the venues. The remarkable ochi had disappeared.

If she remembered correctly, his name was difficult to read.

His name was—.

As Tsucchi picked up her phone, thunder sounded in the distance.

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[wisewomanonce]

"From Darkness to Light: A Journey of Healing and Hope"

Mental health—a phrase we all know so well in today’s world. Depression. Anxiety. OCD. Anger. Words that flow so easily, yet hide such heavy truths. But when I was younger, those words didn’t exist in my world. Where I’m from, seeing a therapist was for people with “real problems.” Worry and sadness were just parts of life—nothing to fix, nothing to ask for help with.

Growing up, I don’t remember anyone asking me how I felt, how I was carrying the weight of unspoken grief or unseen pain. As a child, I cared deeply—too deeply, perhaps—for many things. I devoured books, studied parenting long before I ever had children, hoping to anticipate every stage of motherhood. I thought I had everything figured out.

By the time I had my first teenager, I had six other children: ages 14, 12, 10, 8, 4, 2, and a newborn. I thought I had prepared for everything. But when my oldest daughter’s life veered far from the path I had laid out for her, fear, worry, and grief overwhelmed me. I had done everything “right”—I thought I had controlled the outcome. But when things unraveled, the realization that I had no control, no answers, shattered me. It was a dark, heavy season.

My young marriage began to crack, and the people around me were just as broken as I was. I retreated from the few friendships that were still healthy. Embarrassment and shame kept me isolated. I didn’t understand how I—someone so full of hope, someone who thought she was doing everything right—had ended up here. My entire identity was wrapped up in being a good mother. It was who I was. It was all I knew. But my teenagers were pushing against the very control I thought would protect them.

I didn’t handle this season well. Instead of leaning on God, I turned to things that only numbed the pain. I smoked half a pack of cigarettes a day, drank alcohol to quiet my racing mind. I tried to escape the life I had built, a life I no longer recognized. I clung to control like it was my lifeline, trying to manage every detail, searching desperately for some stability. Years went by, but nothing got better. The sober moments only made the heaviness feel worse.

My mind became consumed with the thought of how to fix everything—how to get my kids back on the path I envisioned for them. The harder I tried to control, the more they rebelled. Eventually, I couldn’t fight anymore. I wanted to give up. Nothing worked, and hopelessness began to take root.

I worked non-stop—sometimes two jobs, 70 hours a week—while raising seven kids. I was exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally drained. My mind raced in a constant state of panic. For years, this was my life.

I knew my children needed me, so taking my life didn’t feel like an option. But as time wore on, the enemy whispered lies—maybe they’d be better off without me. Maybe letting go would finally bring me peace.

The darkness became unbearable. I believed the lie. I tried to take my life. By God’s grace, I survived. That moment was the turning point. I sought help. I found a therapist. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, social anxiety, and insomnia. I was prescribed a cocktail of medications to help me sleep, wake up, focus, and pretend to be “happy.”

For seven long years, I fought a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting. I thought it was just the normal struggle of life—seven kids, a full-time job, a marriage. Of course, life was hard. But even after starting medication, the intrusive thoughts never stopped. I would stop taking the pills to see if they’d go away. They never did.

Then one day, my daughter invited me to a prophetic church conference. “Come expecting miracles,” she said. Desperate for a breakthrough, I prayed, “God, where are You? Fix my brain. Heal my mind. Heal me.” And He did.

From that day forward, I was healed. No more medications. The diagnoses that once defined me—gone.

I share this testimony because I know what it’s like to fight the battles no one sees. Mental health struggles may look different for each of us, but the enemy’s tactics are the same.

In John 10:10, Jesus reminds us: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

When I lost the only identity I had ever known and isolated myself from the church—without leadership, without discipleship—the enemy nearly succeeded in destroying me. He stole my joy, killed my hope, and destroyed my peace. And don’t think he hasn’t tried to take my identity again or make me worry over things God has already claimed victory over, because he has.

But now, I know who I am. I know where my help comes from. I stand firm in my true identity in Christ. My circumstances haven’t drastically changed—I’m still raising kids (now eight, including three teenagers), and I still don’t have control over much. But I’ve learned to trust God with everything.

If you’re struggling, know this: there are ways to fight back. There is scripture, there is therapy, there is practical help. You are not alone. And there is hope.