#sunny growing out hair and seeing mari in his reflection.......

[nr1roagfan]

the transformation is complete.

[manorpunk]

1️⃣

In the White House press briefing room in the year 2069, the presidential lectern was alight for the first time in decades. On the dais, hidden behind thick blue curtains, a series of lenses came to life, powered by thrumming machines the size of cabinets. In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea, The light from the lenses reflected along an array of precision mirrors, engineered down to the nanometer, reflecting and warping the light, directing every beam to a spot just behind the lectern. A shimmering orb of color began to grow and take shape. It was a hologram, the first of its kind in quality and fidelity, but needing time to form. With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me… The hologram grew, like a multicolored egg, until it took the shape of a body - a woman’s body, thin but not too thin, tan but also pale, tall but not too tall or too short, a work of perfection as delicately engineered as the machinery that created it. The Mary Jane shoes, the pleated skirt, the puffy blouse with Juliet sleeves. The cherry-red hair with a big white bow on top. The baby blue eyes with little white five-pointed stars for pupils. For better or for worse, the USA’s decades-long interregnum was drawing to a close. As He died to make men holy… With a thrum of light, the hologram was now displaying at one-hundred percent fidelity. The first president of the American League, a rough and discordant coalition of states that had emerged from the fall of the United States federal government, newly embodied with vague and untested powers in the transition out of provisional government, was an anime girl vtuber. Let us die to make men free, While God is marching on! She smiled. It was a wide, sharp smile, like the letter v, brimming with barely-concealed pride, the smile of someone who was always up to mischief, but never too much. She turned her head, letting the cameras see it from every angle, waving and winking as the booming chorus of Glory, Glory, Hallelujah faded into the background. “And we’re back, folks!” she said. Her voice was light and airy, like a rich pastry or a strong dose of anesthetics.  “In case you’ve been living under a rock for these past few years, I’m Sunny Roosevelt: winner of Miss Vtuber North America 206X, named ‘America’s Cloth Mother’ by the GLN Worldwide Weekly, and now, your president!” The ‘living under a rock’ comment wasn’t a rhetorical gesture; a non-negligible amount of people in the former USA had spent the past few years under some form of rock, whether that was an apocalypse bunker, abandoned basement, or literal rock. “Folks, I know it’s been a rough couple decades for America. There was mass infrastructure failure, natural disasters, zombie COVID, falling real estate prices, and I’m pretty sure most of Florida’s still underwater. But that - ends - here!” she thumped her fist on the podium. “Because I love America. I love America so much I am kissing America with tongue. To all my loyal voters, followers, and subscribers, my promise to you, now that I’m here…” her eyes narrowed and slanted sharply as she gripped the podium and leaned closer. “...big things are coming.”

[kidddoz]

Maurice Headcanons!!

Maurice 20/08/1932 (Leo), 12 years old.

Half English (mom), half Italian (dad). I know he gets in so much trouble while visiting his nonna! Imagine a sunny Sunday and an old lady yelling "MAURIZIO!" because her grandson ate all the tomatoes that were going into the sauce for pasta.

His hair is controversial. His hair is parted in the middle, but before the island, it was super easy to brush it down and make it stay in its place. During and after the island, his hair goes BOOM, the fluffiness arrives, and it is impossible to make it stay in its place. The worst thing is that he doesn't care at all.

His dad is a marine biologist!! Whenever his dad is in another country, he brings Maurice souvenirs, mostly magazines and other things that he adores because he looks for original jokes in the humour section to tell at school. His humour is pretty much a mix between already-made jokes and ocean facts. He is also great at making up stories because of this.

He is an only child, and he is super spoiled. I would confidently say he has one of the most healthy relationships with both his parents. He's just a happy kid (maybe too happy).

In other conditions, Piggy and Maurice could have been besties. Maurice is a Physics nerd while Piggy's a Chemistry nerd, so they'd go to Piggy's aunt's sweet shop to do homework.

Related to that, he is super sweet-toothed. You can convince him to do everything if you are offering him something sweet. He had a lot of trouble on the island because the only mildly sweet things were fruits, and of course, he hates veggies and fruits. It was his hell.

During his teens, his humour grows darker and bitter, including making witty remarks now and then. It might seem he's fine after the island, but has a bunch of unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as using humour to the point of being horribly insensitive to others and even triggering other's traumatic events.

It is quite surprising seeing that he has no healthy coping mechanisms, even if he has a good family circle. That is because his parents, although being great caretakers, always push him to smile or not cry because those problems will eventually pass. I guess his issues derive mainly from repressed feelings and no space for him to digest trauma.

After coming back, he grows closer to Jack, which is super surprising for everyone. The thing is that Maurice leaves the choir once they're back in England but only keeps in touch with Jack, becoming a pen pal almost instantly and never losing contact. Jack doesn't mind this, he thinks Maurice is one of his most genuine friends, if not the only one.

Something inside him still needs closure about the island, so he keeps contact with everyone who was on the island incident, and I mean EVERYONE. He researches and sends a lot of letters to everyone. However, he maintains some distance from the littluns.

He might tend to develop a lot of addictions because of his constant need for short-term happiness. Enjoys gambling, alcohol and whatever that can entertain him.

During his late teens, he starts living in France and finds a job in a newspaper agency! He loves his job and found out that learning French is easy for him, so whenever he visits England, he is like, "Bonjour, fellas!".

Of course, he loves the French ladies or ladies in general. He's such a Casanova, or at least that's his mental image. Even if he's quite famous among the ladies, he never ends up with a girlfriend lol.

He loves the idea of being a reporter but has heard about the new stand-up comedy in America, and he is willing to try.

This is more of a theory than a headcanon, but I firmly believe Maurice's name is based on "Maurice, or the Fisher's Cot" from Mary Shelley. Please look it up because the whole story brings me to tears, but I think there are too many coincidences, and it reflects so well on Maurice's character.

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

The things we leave behind: PERSISTENCE

In the last act of my postgame Headspace AU, Sunny and Omori finally, *actually* talk.  You can start from Chapter 1 (of 6) here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/113743957

Then nothing happens for two weeks.

...Well. That’s technically not true. Now that Sunny lives in the real world, things are always happening. Kel’s intramural basketball team wins a grudge match against the YMCA that Kel’s decided is their nemesis. Aubrey bums a cigarette off some girl in an alley and then drops off the grid for eight days before resurfacing to report, with clear regret, that “Helen still has a lot of growing up to do.”

Sunny squints at her. “You’re like... 20.”

“Maybe physically,” Aubrey sniffs. “But I’m wise beyond my years.”

Basil spirals into a full-fledged breakdown over an end-of-term deadline before very nervously accepting a few of Kel’s Adderall. Then he writes the whole paper in five hours and spends the rest of the night deep-cleaning Sunny’s kitchen and alphabetizing the spice rack and organizing all the treasures in the junk drawer by material and size. Which would be fine, until he wakes Sunny up at 4 in the morning to ask if the arthropod fossil should be filed under ‘stones’ or ‘organic materials.’

“I don’t care,” hisses Sunny, who’s 80% asleep and 100% incensed. “I hate you. If you ever take Kel’s meds again, I’ll kill you.”

Hero convinces himself that he bombed an exam and spends four days stress-baking before Sunny has to physically stop him, because the fridge is so full of banana bread and shortcake that there’s no room for actual groceries. (Hero gets an A. Obviously. This happens every month.)

Kel gets his ear pierced. Aubrey goes along to keep him company and walks out with two new tattoos. Basil starts experimenting with aquaponics. Sunny starts experimenting with gouache.

Things keep happening, but only when he’s awake. No more nighttime visitors. No more weird, reality-breaking dreams. Sunny thinks about Omori sometimes, but he doesn’t waste time worrying. If Omori needs him, he knows how to find him.

It might have been nice to find out how everything turned out. To wrap the whole ordeal up neatly, with a bow. But by now, Sunny knows that closure only exists in fiction. In real life, stories don’t end. They just… stop.

Then he starts seeing things.

And not just the usual things, e.g. street art, stray cats, sunsets. A specific thing. Something… behind him.

He’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, when his eye snags on a blur of motion in the mirror. Something long and lifeless, swinging from the rafters. When he whips around to look, it’s gone.

He’s lying awake late into the night, waiting for sleep to take him. He’s already taken melatonin and Advil PM and two CBD gummies and a Valerian tincture under his tongue, which is… pretty much everything a guy can do, sleep-wise. From there, it’s just about keeping your eyes shut and not looking at your phone. But Sunny hates doing nothing. He spent four years doing nothing but. And when he finally sighs and sits up, he can’t not see the figure looming over the foot of his bed. Lank black hair on dead white skin.

He’s getting up to get a glass of water. Or he’s skulking between high-rises on a storm-gray day, trying not to look at his reflection in the glass. He dips his brush into the palette and pretends he can’t see the eye glaring up through a pool of Eggshell White.

But he can’t run away forever. He’s not sure he’d even want to.

It feels increasingly clear that Mari (or Omori, or his subconscious mind or whatever) is trying to tell him something. He just doesn’t know what it is.

It would help if he could talk about it. Hero is unnaturally good at sussing out why Sunny’s feeling what he’s feeling, usually before Sunny’s even noticed that he’s feeling it. Not as good at Mari, but still very good. And Basil knows more than anyone about what’s going on in Sunny’s head.

But they would worry. Their nightmares might get a little more colorful; a little more specific. And it’s not like Sunny really minds. He’s always happy to see Mari.

####

Legacy is funny. It never looks the way you would’ve guessed, but it’s almost always right.

Take Mari. Mari’s legacy is:

Mischief (and with it, the growing conviction that she knows more than she’s letting on),

Unnervingly keen, loving attention,

Fucking with people for sport, and

Picnics.

Picnics are the big one. Like Mari, they sit at the junction between worlds. It’s the ideal middle ground between indoor kids and outdoor kids; between fragile, bookish readers and rough-and-tumble wrasslers. Even after seven years without her, the friends she left behind are still happiest stretched out on a grass-stained gingham blanket, with the wind in their hair and the sun on their skin.

Everyone picnics differently. Kel and Aubrey romp around in the grass, throwing a frisbee or racing to the nearest bodega to decide who’ll foot the bill for a family-pack of ice cream sandwiches. Basil likes to find a safe little corner to write in his notebook or read—anything that makes him look busy enough to speak up when he wants to, without feeling like he has to. Hero studies and studies and occasionally glances up to make sure Kel didn’t leave the cooler open again. And Sunny? Sunny sits back and watches the show. He yawns and rolls over and naps in the heat of the sun.

Speaking of which. Sunny stretches like a cat and flops backward, till his head comes to rest in the crook of Mari’s knee.

“Hehe,” she giggles, grinning down at him. “Silly little kitty. We should get you a bell. You and Mewo could match!”

Sunny wrinkles his nose. “It might wake me up.”

“A fate worse than death,” she says gravely. “Don’t worry, little brother. If anyone tries to bell you, I’ll bell them.”

Well. Good.

He’s about to close his eyes when a shadow falls over her. Long, dark. Cold. A gash of white in a pillar of black, its edges billowing in the breeze.

Sunny’s breath catches. Mari. But— But she was just—

…Oh. He must be dreaming. When he’s awake, Mari doesn’t go around hosting picnics. When Sunny’s awake, his sister is dead.

“Um,” he says. “Hi.”

His sister’s smiling face flickers. The phantom looming above her stretches longer still. “...Sun…ny… Can we… ta…lk…?”

Sunny sits up obediently. He always wants to talk to Mari.

“…ehe…” the shadow giggles. “Listen… Nee…d… you… Omori…”

Sunny stiffens. Does that mean that Omori really is in trouble? But—Omori knows where to find him. If he needed help, why wouldn’t he just ask?”

One huge, sideways eye creases with amusement. “…Like h…ow… you did…?”

Oh. Right. Sunny knows how to ask for help now. And even now, it’s rarely his first instinct. But when he was Omori’s age…

He shakes himself off. “What do I do?”

“...Eas…ier… if…” The phantom stretches out one long gray tendril of shadow. “…show… you…”

Her spectral flesh feels gelatinous against his skin, rubbery-cold as dragonfruit. “Show me.”

###

Sunny opens his eyes in a white void. Cold as the vacuum of space and just as endless. But this time, White Space isn’t vacant. He can hear murmured voices, the rustle of cloth and the hush of breath.

When he sits up, he finds three figures and seven eyes staring back at him. The weird thing is, not one of them belongs to Omori.

Ex-Chairman Hero is here, looking vaguely puzzled and majorly perturbed. Basil hovers by his elbow, wringing his hands worriedly. But his shadow is distinctly not wringing its hands. Its arms are crossed, its searing eyes narrowed with impatience. Behind them, the specter of Mari—or is it Something, now? Sunny makes a mental note to ask her what she likes to be called—still looms.

“Um,” Sunny says. It’s not exactly the welcome he expected. “Hi?”

Headspace Basil gives him an anxious little smile. “Thanks very much for coming. I think we could use all the help we can get.”

When he closes his mouth, his voice keeps on going without it. “Yeah, right,” it mutters.

Basil looks mortified. “S-Stop that!!”

“I just don’t see why he’d open up to some random guy if he won’t even see his best friend,” Basil’s voice says sullenly. The words seem to issue out from his shadow, without any intermediary vocal cords.

“Aw, c’mon, Basil,” Hero laughs. “We talked about this! Sunny isn’t just some guy. He’s Omori’s—um. He’s…”

Sunny listens with interest. He’d always wondered what Omori’s friends thought of him. (If they’d thought of him at all. Until recently, Sunny had never actually set foot in Headspace. And the only one who ever came to White Space was Omori. Sunny had sort of had the impression that no one else could come here.)

Hero clears his throat. “A-hem. Um. Sunny is— He’s Omori’s…” He frowns a little and leans back, looking up into Something’s sideways eye. “What did you say he was?”

“...I thought y…ou were su…pposed to be an… honor student…”

“It’s not like they put this on our exams!!”

The specter snickers. “…Don’t… think too hard… about it…”

Hero grins ruefully. “Yeah, that’s… not really something I’m good at.”

“…ehe…” the phantom giggles. It’s not the same as Mari’s laugh. Mari’s laugh was a cheeky little snicker, like a cat playing with its food—unless you caught her off guard, in which case it barreled out of her like a foghorn. This is barely an echo of that. But the mischief is the same. “...If you… insist… Just… think of Sun…ny as my… little brother…”

Hero frowns. “But Omori’s your brother.”

“…yes…”

“But Sunny’s not Omori’s brother?”

“…definitely not…”

Basil’s shadow snickers. “Trust your girlfriend on this one. You’re not ready for the big picture.”

“G-Girlfriend???” Hero squawks, his voice breaking halfway. “We’re not— I mean!! It’s not like we…” He trails off. On the ground in front of him, Sunny is raising his hand. “Uh. Yes? Sunny?”

“I don’t understand.” Of course Sunny is happy to see them all. Together, especially. But— “Where are Kel and Aubrey?”

The specter of Mari flickers like a moth trapped inside a projector.

Hero winces, too. “We’re, uh. Still working on that.”

“...Still… a little sc…ared…” Mari whispers. “...Not their fault… Doing their best…”

Sunny’s forehead furrows. It doesn’t make sense. Aubrey is famously fearless. And Kel never slows down for long enough to get properly scared. Basil, on the other hand…

Mari’s edges flutter with another whistling laugh. “...Stranger and… I… go wa-a-a-ay back…”

“The nerd’s only scared of stupid stuff, anyway,” Basil’s shadow agrees. “Being wrong, and getting in trouble and things. He’s fine when it’s actually scary.”

“A-hem!” Basil huffs, planting one foot squarely on his shadow’s two-dimensional face. “I-I think we can all agree that— The point is, we’re all just worried about Omori!!”

“Worried he’ll disappear again,” his shadow hisses. “That he’ll leave us all behind.”

“Which would be fine!!” Basil rushes to clarify. “I-If that was what he really… Or, I mean… If that was r-really what was best for him, then—”

“But it’s not,” his shadow says flatly. “What? It’s true. You don’t have to pretend like it isn't. He isn’t moving on, he’s just being stupid. Again. Running away like a scared little kid.”

“He is a scared little kid,” Sunny points out.

Basil’s shadow rolls its eyes. “Yeah, well. Join the club.”

…Fair.

But that still doesn’t explain what Sunny’s meant to do about it. If they just need someone to talk to Omori, there’s got to be someone more qualified. Like. Literally anyone else. There’s a reason that Sunny’s friends are so talkative. If you put two wordless, socially stunted weirdos in the same room, nothing ever happens.

“...N…ot about… what you say…” Mari’s ghost whispers. “...No one else can… get inside… Only him…”

Ah. Okay. He’s starting to see the larger picture. Sunny might be worse at talking than anyone else in this room—and that includes the sentient nightmare who can barely fit two words between a sea of ellipses. But he’s also the only one here who arguably is Omori. (A part of him. The rest of him? Whatever.)

“Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll try. But. I’m open to suggestions.”

###

Omori is holed up in what used to be Sweetheart’s Castle.

Not that Sunny has any idea what that means. Omori said something about “getting rid of it,” but… what? Even by Headspace rules, it’s a little hard to swallow. Weren’t there people inside? Sprout moles are one thing—their sentience is very much up for debate—but did Omori remember to flush Rococo out of the basement before wiping it out of existence?

…There’s only one way to find out.

Sunny turns to face the others. “Any ideas?”

Hero practically trips over himself in his haste. “I-I made some soup!!! It’s, um. It’s… the same kind Mari used to make.”

“...Tell him… I love him…” the phantom whispers.

Basil squeezes his eyes shut. “Tell him I miss him so much!!!! I— There’s no pressure, it’s okay if he still needs—but we just!! I don’t know what to do without him!!!”

“Tell him we’re pissed,” his shadow hisses. “He can’t keep pulling this shit. There’s a limit to how many times we’ll—”

“Shut UP!!!” Basil screeches. “You know that’s not true!! T-Tell him we’re— W-We’re not going anywhere!!!”

“...but… don’t fe…el any… pressure…” Mari’s ghost whispers. “…might not even… get inside…”

Sunny snickers. Cool. Got it. Very helpful.

He throws back the doors—

  —and steps into his living room.

(No, Sunny reminds himself. Not his. Just a room, now. Just a room where he used to live.)

Omori’s hideout isn’t a palace or a prison. It’s just a normal room. Beige carpet. Beige couch. Beige walls papered over with photos, so so so many photos. School pictures and Christmases and family portraits from a shop that’s long since shuttered, all stiff stances and smiles with too many teeth. But afterwards they went to All Star Burger and Sunny got a milkshake for making it through the whole session without shutting down or crying. Mari got one, too, just for being Mari. She deserved a million milkshakes. Eighty more years of milkshakes, at least.

The stain on the carpet. The way the lamp always flickered, no matter how many times you tightened the bulb. Mari said it must be haunted. But when Sunny ran into her room crying, she didn’t yell or send him away. She just told him, gently, that ghosts are really only people. Just lost, lonely people. And when they act out, it’s not because they want to scare you. They’re just afraid of being forgotten. They just want one last chance to be seen.

Mari, Mari, Mari. Everywhere he looks, there’s so so so much Mari. Gap-toothed and beaming, holding out the stag beetle she caught all by herself. Standing stick-straight in front of the concert piano, prim and well-groomed and stiff with fear. Dancing. Laughing. Carrying her baby brother on her back even when her knees buckled. For years after Sunny should have been too old for it, Mari never minded carrying him home.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asks. His own voice, ten years out of date.

Sunny jumps. He’d almost forgotten why he came. “What are you doing here?” he counters, for lack of anything better.

Omori looks down at himself, then back up. “…Sitting?”

“Right. But. Why here.”

Omori rolls his eyes. “White Space isn’t ours anymore. I guess nowhere is. The others kept bugging me. I just want to be alone.”

Sunny frowns. “You hate being alone.”

“You hate being alone," Omori says dully. "I don’t know what I hate.”

…Oh.

“And anyway, I’m not alone.”

Sunny’s forehead furrows. He follows Omori’s gaze to the corner of the room, where there’s a heap of old laundry scrunched against the wall.

—No. Not laundry. Mari. Not as she was, but as she is. Dead gray flesh mottled with rot. Crumpled limbs stacked like kindling. Empty.

“I made this place,” Omori announces. “Like you made everywhere else. You made a million miles of light and life and I made one boring room. I couldn't even figure out the TV. I tried, but it’s only static.” He looks up at Sunny, stone-faced. “Did you put anything good in me at all?”

What is he supposed to say to that? “Your friends seem worried…”

“Your friends. I don’t have any friends. Just hand-me-downs.”

Maybe. “They’re still worried.”

Omori shrugs.

Sunny shifts his weight uneasily. Omori isn’t giving him very much to work with. “You’re—um. You’re… not having a good time.”

“No.”

Then why are you here? “Then…”

“Why did you leave?” Omori asks abruptly. The words short and sharp. “Everything was fine before you left. Kel was never busy, and Aubrey never picked on us. And Hero was happy. And Basil was always okay. And—” He digs his nails into the arm of the couch, forces the name through his teeth. “Mari was. Alive. Mari was alive and she was perfect. Everything was perfect.”

Yes. That’s true. Sunny remembers.

Omori’s face darkens. “I know you," he spits. "You can fool them, but you can’t fool me. I don’t care how many stupid piercings you get. Out there you’re pathetic. Just some loser shut-in freak who’s too afraid to be alone. You think because you can talk now, it means you’re doing fine? You’re not fine. You’re still a freak. And you’re still a murderer.”

Sunny nods. Why would he argue? It’s the truth.

“So—why?” Omori grits out. “Why go back there? Why would you even want to?”

Oh. Hm. It’s an interesting question.

Sunny takes his time, thinking it over. There’s no use trying to answer right away. A half-baked answer won’t do Omori any good, and it might upset him even more. You can’t just throw a slurry of wet flour in the oven. You have to give it time to rise.

…Why did Sunny go back? It wasn’t just that he was dying. He’d been dying for ages, for years and years and years. He knew he was dying and it didn’t scare him. He used to think about it sometimes. It sounded… peaceful. So it’s not as though he was running away from the dark. He must have been moving toward something.

A lot of it was Mari. Obviously. Always. Was it ever even a question? Mari was the catalyst for everything. She’s the one who taught him how to be a person, and then a decent person. Before her death and after. She crawled out of the grave to pound on his door and remind him to be brave.

But it wasn’t only Mari. It was just—everything.

Sunny opened the door and everything was different. Everyone was different. He’d stepped into the last act of a story that no one had bothered to tell him. His friends looked like strangers. Everything that should have been familiar felt alien and strange. There was so much that he didn’t understand. So why did he decide to stay?

Part of it was just concern. Love and fear and the guilt that blooms from the marriage of the two.

When he first laid eyes on Basil, Sunny didn’t even recognize him. Basil had always been brittle, but now he was broken. Bloodshot. All the meat chewed from his bones. He shuddered and twitched and his hands flinched around in violent little jerks, like a fledgling flung from the nest before it’s finished growing its pinions. Too weak to fly, but too afraid to die.

Basil moved like breaking glass. Like breaking bone. He looked at Sunny with a million words trapped under his tongue. Civilizations rose and fell behind his eyes. Comedy, tragedy, catharsis. What had made him like this? Could it really have been Sunny?

(No. Yes. Sort of. But Sunny didn’t know that yet. He wouldn’t find out till there was only one day left.)

But it’s not as though Sunny faced the truth for anything as noble as concern. Sunny is many things, but he isn’t noble. He’s pragmatic. Realistic. (Selfish.) He protects his friends because he loves them. He loves them because it makes him feel good. He knows that he’s nobody’s hero.

So it wasn’t only worry. He was curious, too. About Aubrey, especially.

Aubrey. Seeing her was a shock to his system, a lightning-strike straight to the brainstem. He’d remembered her fussy, unflinching. Brash, but not insensitive. Forceful, but never cruel. The girl he met in the park… It couldn’t be Aubrey. How could it be Aubrey? She was wild with hate. Her eyes burned coldest when glaring at him.

But Sunny had trusted Aubrey. She was his compass, his focus. The one he could trust to speak from the heart. Aubrey was true to the bone. What could have made her like this?

(Sunny, Sunny, Sunny. Everything she lost and kept losing, it was all because of—)

—But he’s getting carried away. And anyway, that can’t have been the reason. Sunny didn’t have to go outside to hate himself, or blame himself. He was doing a perfectly adequate job of that all on his own. So then, why?

Ohhh, he realizes. It’s because— “It was fun.”

Sunny confronted the truth—the searing torment of an unbearable reality—because he was having fun. Fun! While he was awake! When’s the last time that he could say that?

When Kel knocked on his door, Sunny was, truth be told, probably not taking very good care of himself. Not being altogether kind. He used to think that he liked himself well enough, when Mari was alive. And then she died, and Sunny realized it was only ever Mari. Mari had loved him, and Mari knew everything, so it stood to reason that he must have deserved it. He’d felt entitled to all kinds of kindness, when he was Mari’s little brother. But when she was gone—and after what he’d done—

And then he opened the door and Kel beamed at him like a living, breathing sun. Kel took him by the hand and drew him out into the light and then acted like Sunny was the one who’d done something amazing. He looked wildly different, a hundred feet taller and stronger and more beautiful, and somehow he still felt exactly the same. And hanging out felt exactly the same.

But everything else was so new! The town thronged with faces that Sunny’d never seen before, or that he’d known and then forgot. He walked up to a million strangers and made Kel do all the talking, just like he used to when they were small. And even though Sunny had spent the past four years rotting inside, somehow Kel had grown more confident than ever. He was just as utterly, instantly at ease as Sunny remembered.

You could make a sort of game of it. Pushing Kel’s buttons, pushing your luck. Pressing at the boundaries of his comfort zone to see where they would break. Of course Kel could find rapport with the anxious artist drawing landscapes in the park, or the boy on the bench with the dreamy green eyes. But what about those fashionable newlyweds lost in the throes of choice paralysis? Or the bearded old weirdo muttering to himself in the hardware aisle?

Sunny walked into the homes of total strangers just to see what Kel would say. He wasn’t doing it to hurt him. It was like Mari hiding spiders in Hero’s desk. It’s just so exciting, finding out what someone’s going to do. Never knowing what’s going to happen next.

“So that’s it?” Omori demands. “That’s why you left. Uncertainty? Surprise? You left because you wanted to lose control?”

Hm. Sunny wouldn’t have put it like that, but… yeah. Maybe, yeah. It sounds sort of right.

“But that isn’t fair!” Omori hisses, flaring hot. “You made me to protect you from change, and then you went and changed into someone who didn’t even want that!”

Sunny frowns. “Do you want to change?”

“No!!”

Hm. Maybe that was the wrong question. “Do you… want to want to change?”

“No!! Or—” Omori hesitates. “I—don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know if you could be here if I didn’t.”

…Hm.

“The others,” Omori says shortly. “They’re—different. From how you made them. They’re not just our friends anymore. They’re, like. People.”

(Ideally friends are people, but that probably won’t be very helpful right now.)

“It’s like…” Omori trails off. “Like they’re not bound by what happened. Or who they used to be. I don’t even know if Mari is our sister anymore, or if she’s just—” He slams one fist against the arm of the couch, burying his knife to the hilt in the faded upholstery. “I don’t know how to say it.”

Sunny knows how that is. “Just say whatever. Sometimes some of it is right.”

Omori lapses into silence, but Sunny knows how that is, too. He sits on the ground and waits.

A few minutes drift by before Omori opens his mouth. “…That story you told.”

Sunny blinks.

“About pissing yourself.”

Ah. Naturally.

Omori huffs a breath. “I don’t remember that.”

Well… of course not. When Sunny was in first grade, Omori didn’t exist.

“I’m supposed to be you,” Omori mutters. “Or, something that used to be you. A piece of you. Whatever. But I don’t even have any of your memories. I don’t remember growing up, or coming here or anything. I’ve been trying and trying, but the first thing I remember is just empty white. And a black hanging bulb. And hearing someone crying.”

Sunny frowns. “Do you want my memories?”

“No! I don’t know! I just want—anything! To know anything! What I’m supposed to be, or—who I’m supposed to…” He trails off. “I just want to know what I’m for.”

“I’m not sure people are for anything.”

“Maybe where you’re from,” Omori scoffs. “Not here. Anyway, I’m not a person.”

There’s a lot that Sunny doesn’t know, but that definitely doesn’t sound right. “You’re—”

“Don’t argue,” Omori spits. “I know what people are. They feel things, and grow, and—grow up. That’s why you left. Isn’t it? Because you wanted something real.”

Sunny hesitates. That’s probably true, but… it’s not the whole truth. But he doesn’t know how to say it.

Omori barks a laugh. “You made it so I couldn't change, and then you changed into someone who didn't want that. Not that I cared,” he adds, bitterly. “I still had my friends. But now they’re changing, too. And I thought… If I brought your stupid friends here and made them face themselves, like we did, then… maybe everything could go back to how it was. But it didn’t. They’re still changing. Everyone is changing, except me. Because that’s how you made me.” He bares his teeth, ablaze with sudden fury. “It isn’t fair! I hate you! I should hate you forever and ever! Till you die and ever after!”

For a second, Sunny is scared that he’s going to get stabbed again. But it only lasts a moment, and then Omori collapses back into his seat.

“After you left,” Omori says. Leaden, resigned. “I. Missed you. Isn’t that stupid? It’s not like you were good company. All you ever did was lay around and cry.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Sunny says quietly.

“Hah. Right. Of course you’d want me to be as pathetic as you. I’m just a memory. Just a scar over something that’s already healed. Being here probably feels nostalgic.”

That’s… not entirely untrue. But saying so would probably also not be very helpful.

“You threw me away and I can’t even hate you,” Omori says. “Or resent you, or—miss you. Because that’s not how you made me. And even if I could, I—” He has to force the words through gritted teeth. “—don’t. Want to.” He barks a laugh. “All you ever gave me was your ugliest, broken-est parts and I still won’t throw them away, because it’s—all I have left. Because I don’t want to lose you. Even after you threw me away.”

“I didn’t throw you away.”

“You—” Omori trips over his tongue. “—What?”

You can read the rest of the finale here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/129661372

[takivvatanga]

sick day

“Mum? My head hurts.” Stella coughs as she pads into the lounge on her bare feet, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her little face flushed, blue eyes burning bright with fever. She’s stayed home sick today, same as yesterday, same as the day before. 

Whatever illness it is that is making its way around at school, it’s horrid. Neville has it too, apparently. Assire thinks about Mary, about how she must feel having a sick child to look after once again - even though this isn’t bad. Well, it is, but it’s nothing compared to… the horrible thing that happened. Assire remembers Mary’s little boy. Clever and quick and so very full of energy, full of life - until he began to fade, his body slowly but surely giving way to something dark, some insidious decay that got hold of him and would never let him go. 

Assire had kept her distance, hesitant to interfere in another woman’s grief. They barely knew each other, back then. To reach out would have been inappropriate, surely. But Assire can’t help but feel that she let her sister in law down. Better give her a call, later on tonight. See how she is, see how Neville is. Assire might not be able to make up for the missed opportunities of the past, but she has here and now, doesn’t she? Never too late to set things right, do things a little differently. Yes, she’ll do that. She’ll call.  “Mum!” Stella’s voice is thin and reedy, thick with congestion. She sounds much younger than what she is, when she’s unwell. Assire beckons her closer, and Stella doesn’t hesitate, climbing up onto the couch and curling up in her mother’s arms, blanket trailing behind. She coughs again, wipes her runny nose with a crinkled pyjama sleeve. Assire brushes a strand of dark hair out of her daughter’s face. Her skin is hot to touch, a little sticky. How bright her eyes are. Blue as the sky on a clear morning, blue as the ocean on a sunny day. Stella has her father’s eyes. Assire wishes Stella looked more like her, doesn’t realise that she is right there, reflected so clearly in the way Stella frowns, in the way she blinks her eyes in astonishment, in the restlessness in her little hands.   Sometimes I still don’t feel as if you’re truly mine. A part of me. You feel so far away, and at the same time you’re so close.  “Can I get a hot drink?” Stella shifts, pushing her bare feet against the armrest of the couch, pressing closely against her mother’s body. Assire pulls her close, presses her face to the crown of her daughter’s head, inhales deeply. Stella smells like green apples and Vick’s Vaporub, like wax crayons and unwashed pyjamas. She needs a shower, but Assire doesn’t want to force her to have one. Not when she’s unwell like this, not - Assire doesn’t want to force Stella to do anything. No. She wants her to choose, to make up her own mind, to walk her own path without restriction, without limitation. “She needs discipline”, Mary has told her, more times than Assire cares to remember. “She needs to learn how to cope with having rules. I understand what you’re trying to achieve, I really do, but it doesn’t work like that.” But Mary doesn’t understand, and as far as Assire is concerned, things are perfectly fine just the way they are. 

“I’ll make you some tea, alright?” Assire stirs. Stella clings to her. “No, Mum! Don’t get up!” Assire sighs, relents, settles back into the couch, tugging at the edges of Stella’s blanket. “No hot drink, then.” “But I’m thirsty”, Stella whines, in her sick-little-kid voice. “Can I just have some of yours?” “No, sweetheart. That’s black tea. It’s not for kids. And it’s gone cold anyhow, see?” She picks up her cup - with its chipped rim and its fading print of cavorting cats, her favourite - and presents it to her daughter. Stella holds it tightly, with both hands, the remnants of bright pink polish still noticeable on her little nails. Stella has lovely hands. Nothing like Assire’s own, their skin thin and sallow, already flecked like those of a much older woman, the nails bitten down almost to the quick. Stella’s hands are slim with long fingers, her nails fast-growing, strong, perfectly shaped. The hands of an artist or a musician, a clockmaker or a surgeon. What will she grow up to do with those hands? Assire worries about Stella. Stella still cannot read. She only pretends, guessing the words based on the letters she can make out, relying on her memory to replicate the texts of her story books. At Stella’s age, Assire had been reading fluently for quite some time. As a matter of fact, she cannot recall ever not being able to read. Not like there was much reading material available when she was small. She’d read street signs instead, street signs and work rosters and every now and again that rare treat of a discarded newspaper that the wind had carried over the fences of the compound. FLASH SALE DON’T MISS OUT! Weekend Weather Unemployment at Record Levels Stella sniffs at the dark liquid in the cup, pulls a face, glances up at her mother with her bright blue eyes. The little girl takes a sip, erupts in a violent coughing fit.  “It’s gross, Mum!” “I told you.” “I want a hot drink! Hot chocolate or milk with honey in it!” “Well, you’ll have to wait for me to make it then.” Another cough, smaller this time but twice as phlegmy. Stella spits into her pyjama sleeve.  “Alright. Can I play on your computer while I wait?” “No, sweetheart. Now let me get that drink for you, yeah?” “I don’t want a drink no more. I want a story instead. Can I have a story, Mum?”  Stella looks up at her mother with pleading eyes. As much as she sometimes resents her inability to be normal, like other mothers, her stories are the best. As far back as Stella can remember, Assire’s tales have taken her on a journey, deep into the centre of the earth or far beyond the skies, into other worlds, murky dreamscapes where nothing is ever quite as it seems.  “Any more”, Assire corrects her daughter sternly. “Speak properly please, Stella.” The little girl sighs, rolls her eyes. “You sound like auntie Mary! She always tells me to talk properly too. I don’t know why it’s so important. You know what I mean anyway.”  “You’ll understand someday. It’s complicated.” “You always say that when you don’t know how to explain something.”

Assire bites her lip, taken aback by the accuracy of her daughter’s observation. This is a discussion she is nowhere near prepared to enter into right now. “A story then. Alright. Are you comfortable?” Stella wriggles under her blanket, inching even closer, settling down to rest her head in her mother’s lap, her restless little hands tugging at the tassels on Assire’s scarf. She loves her fiercely, in this moment, with her messy hair and her sticky skin and her febrile eyes, in her unwashed pyjamas with her unbrushed teeth. Don’t grow up, she thinks. Or at least, don’t grow up too fast. “Am now.” Stella coughs again. Assire pushes a strand of hair out of her daughter’s face. “Let’s see. A story. Well, a long time ago, or maybe somewhere in the far distant future, far above in the High Wilderness Beyond The Skies, there was a girl. Only she wasn’t an ordinary girl. You see, instead of being born, she was made.” “Made? You mean she wasn’t a real girl?” “Oh, she was. She was just...where other people are made of skin and flesh and bone, she’d been put together from bronzewood and ivory and copper and steel and instead of a beating heart there was a clockwork contraption in her chest.” “Was she brave?” “She was. She was incredibly brave, actually. She-” “She was never afraid!” “No. She was afraid all the time. Of a lot of things.” “Then she wasn’t brave.” “She was. Because you see, being brave doesn’t mean never being afraid. Because if you’re never scared, that would make it easy to be brave, wouldn’t it now? But being brave isn’t supposed to be easy. It gets easier, though. What being brave means is being afraid and doing the right thing anyway.” Stella doesn’t reply. Assire can tell by the way she wrinkles her nose, by the way she purses her lips, that she is thinking very seriously about this. Good. Remember that, Stella. Remember that it is alright to be afraid. Because we’re all afraid, in our own way, and anyone who says they aren’t, well, they’re lying. “What did she do, in the Skies?” “She was a traveller. An explorer. She met a great many people on her journey, and if any of them were in need of help, she did whatever she could for them. Until one day…” Stella listens intently as Assire spins her tale, but soon her eyelids grow heavy, her curious questions and interjections become less frequent. Assire lowers her voice, little by little, and soon Stella’s breathing becomes slow and even, every now and again disrupted by a small cough. Assire begins to hum, deep and low in her throat, a strange melody that she cannot recall ever learning, but she has sung it to Stella for as long as she can remember. Stella’s Song, they call it. It’s something they share just between the two of them. She’ll be too old for it soon, just like she’ll be too old for bedtime stories. Assire wishes she could stop time, to keep her daughter here, like this, curled up in her lap, blissfully oblivious to life and all its hardships, its temptations, its wrong turns. Innocent. Where will you go, Stella? Who will you become? The thought fascinates and terrifies her at the same time. “We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”, she whispers as she straightens out the blanket that covers the sleeping child. “We’ll have to find out.”

[edith-writes]

pumpkin promises

on ao3 here

word count: 1528

pairing(s): Enjolras/Grantaire

The funny thing about Halloween is that each year it seems to come about faster and faster.

At least, that’s the first thought that crosses Grantaire’s mind when he opens his front door at some ridiculous hour of the night to a rather flustered Enjolras. The second thought is that he looks really, really good in the red jumper he’s wearing.

Which leads him to his third thought, that it honestly would be better not to think at all.

Enjolras is still standing on the doorstep looking up at him because, evidently, he hasn’t invited him in yet- he’s only had the time to consider that Enjolras is there- not why, and really, he thinks faintly, he ought to invite him in.

“Do you want to come in?” he asks, then almost kicks himself- of course he does- and moving out the way he gestures a, notably, silent Enjolras through into the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?” Grantaire finally says, and when Enjolras nods he stands and moves to the cupboards, “We have bread and biscuits and some tea and orange juice?” He should really go to the shops. “Oh, and some…” he squints at the package, “some… Creme EggsTM, God knows how long they’ve been in there.”

He throws them down on the table before opening the packet and helping himself to one, allowing the noise of the tinfoil to fill the silence.

But really, there’s only so much he can take, so Grantaire opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong- because Enjolras still hasn’t spoken yet and is looking a little mournful when Enjolras himself answers the question before it can even be asked.

“Did you know Courf and Ferre were dating?” He asks, with all the manner of a slightly bedraggled kitten.

Grantaire just manages not to choke on his Creme EggTM, “I was-” he pauses a moment to regather himself, “I was aware in a way, it was, it was rather obvious? Wasn’t it?”

Enjolras stares at him like he’s from the moon, and then frowns slightly and shakes his head. “Not to me.”

And really, Grantaire thinks, he shouldn’t be allowed to look like that.

Enjolras is still looking at him, the resemblance between him and a lost kitten growing every moment, and, well, if Grantaire stares at him any longer he will cry, so, with great determination and strength of will, he stands.

“Shall we watch a film?” He asks, gesturing through to the other room, nodding absently, Enjolras follows. Dimly, somewhere in the slightly rational part of his brain, Grantaire knows he will regret this, but in the more prevalent part he recalls that Enjolras can’t stand horror films, so Parasite and The Shining are off the table, and well, it is Halloween, and he’ll be dammed if he’ll let them watch anything too cheesy.

He, for some reason, decides that Gremlins is the best choice and as he presses play he becomes aware that Enjolras is on the sofa beside him.

Not only that but Enjolras is really quite close.

Now, that in it self would not be such a problem if it wasn’t, well, Enjolras, for Grantaire’s vague crush on him is, for the most part, just that, vague.

But when he is really very close indeed, and when his hair is catching the light from the screen just so, the whole situation becomes a little less vague and a little more of a really quite pressing issue.

Of course, throughout Grantaire’s thought process, the film has progressed- as films tend to do- and Enjolras is now leaning on his shoulder.

Grantaire does not like the way this is making his heart skip.

Of course, thinking about the crush you harbour on someone when said someone is, literally and metaphorically, leaning on you is not ideal. But, he thinks belatedly, when has he ever done ideal?

It all started when he first saw Enjolras.

Him and Jehan had been walking through a park on a bright sunny day, and had stopped for a moment to listen to a speaker. They’d ended up staying for rather longer than intended, as the next speaker had a thick head of golden curls and a ringing clear voice, and Grantaire was struck still. They’d asked for information about the group and Jehan had teased Grantaire about it for days.

It was impossible to deny that the attraction was anything but purely physical at first, they were always at odds to begin with. But somewhere inbetween the jabs and angy glares a kind of rivalry they grew used to had formed.

Hurtful words turned into playful jokes and more than one conversation found shared interests and common hobbies. By that point Grantaire could safely say that his feelings were past purely physical.

It took a particularly nasty demonstration for Grantaire to realise just what he felt. The panic and relief seeing Enjolras safe and unharmed confirmed his worst fears. What he felt was most definitely, if not love, then something very close.

Of course, being a rational man, Grantaire was under no illusions as to the possibility of his affections being returned, and decided right then and there that he would not let this get in the way of their friendship.

As nearly every other ami paired (or in the case of Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta: tripled) off, Grantaire’s affections only grew, until at last it had all come to a head.

Grantaire hopes that perhaps his feelings towards Enjolras aren’t to obvious, but the many knowing glances he receives from friends almost constantly suggest otherwise.

Although, Enjolras hadn’t cottoned onto the fact that Courfeyrac and Combeferre were dating, so perhaps this obliviousness may counteract his own obviousness.

It must be quite distressing, he reflects finally, to be a third of a trio only to find out the other two have paired off without you. So he supposes he can understand the odd way Enjolras has been behaving around them recently. It must be an very strange time for him.

All of which leads him to the very important question: Why did Enjolras visit him?

A valid question, and one he may have had time to ponder if the film had not just ended.

As the credits fade to black Enjolras shuffles closer, sighing slightly into Grantaire’s chest, and Grantaire simply stares in the half light coming from the kitchen.

“Enjolras?” he says, fool, he thinks, but the damage is done. He hums and looks sleeply up at him, “why did you come here?”

A small frown forms between Enjolras’s eyebrows. “I- I’m not sure I follow?”

“Why did you come here of all places? I mean, after the whole thing with Courf and Ferre? You could have gone to anyone else’s.”

“It’s Halloween,” he says, “Everyone else was either out or busy.” He mumbles something else, and Grantaire’s curiosity wins out before he can fall back onto the ‘last choice’ narrative.

“What was that?”

“I said,” and Grantaire swears he sees a blush, “I would have come here anyway.” Enjolras suddenly finds the pattern of his shirt very interesting, “you always make me feel safe.”

Oh. Grantaire thinks faintly, well. And then he’s bending down hesitantly, and Enjolras is closing his eyes and they meet somewhere in the middle. It’s soft and sweet and dimly Grantaire knows it’s better than he ever dreamt of, but it’s over too soon.

Enjolras’s eyes are still closed and his breathing is light but shaky. His face is flushed but he’s smiling softly. He sighs before falling back onto the sofa laughing.

“Oh my god,” he says, still laughing, “Jesus Christ, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

His eyes are still closed, and when Grantaire leans down to kiss him again his nose wrinkles slightly at the feel of his hair brushing it, and his hands grab at the front of Grantaire’s shirt.

The kiss last a little longer and when they come up for air he laughs again, Grantaire thinks it might be the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

“What?” he smiles.

“I was just thinking about how different tonight may have been- if I hadn’t realised, or hadn’t reacted quite so dramatically to Courf and Ferre’s news, or gone out with the others instead of coming here… I imagine I would just be tipsy and a little sad.” He grins, “but now, we can get tipsy and very happy.”

Grantaire laughs at him and counts the freckles on his nose before leans down again.

“You,” says Enjolras when they break apart for a thrid time, “are kind and funny and beautiful.”

“And you,” says Grantaire, sounding only a little breathless, “are smart and good and perfect.”

“Not perfect.” Enjolras says quietly.

“Practically.”

He grins up at him, hands still curled in Grantaire’s shirt front, “Mary Poppins.” He says, then giggles. Honest to god giggles.

Grantaire smiles and leans down to kiss him before beginning to chuckle quietly, “What?” Enjolras asks from somewhere below him.

“What are Courf and Ferre going to say about this?” Grantaire asks.

“Well,” Enjolras holds his gaze steady with his own blue one. “Lets hope they don’t run away to.”

[grs-the-neighborhood]

The Misfits Chapter 3: Niko Part 1

A Few Years Ago

A young boy is walking home from school, after another gruelling day of negativity from his peers. He always felt like he were when his brother, Serpent, his mother, his Uncle Dipper being there to protect him: it’s why he didn’t feel comfortable when he had to go get stuff for mom when she wasn’t around. He was looking at a shopping list that his mom gave him.

“Let’s see, eggs, bacon, a carton of milk, chocolate bars, and bread,” he said.

“AaaaHHhhhhnnghh!” He heard a scream.

“What the heck!” he thought.

He dash and follow the sound of the scream, he see the stairs heading to what appear to be an abandoned subway station. It was covered in dust, mud, and musk because it hasn’t been running ages ago. Yet life still occurred, vines growing on the walls, cockroaches, and rats hiding, and a voice of pain can be heard. He followed it until he sees a little girl with cyan hair lying there and crying in pain. The boy quickly dash toward her. He gets close and sees her hands covered in deep scratches, her right ankle having a gash._

_ “Are you okay?” he asks, hoping to get an answer only to hear the little girl crying.

The boy doesn’t know what to do, he gives her his hand and the girl grabs his hand and stands up, pulling out wet wipes. As he’s wiping her face he takes in her features: she’s younger than him due to her size, her skin was brown, she was wearing a purple skirt with a black stripe going horizontally in the middle. She looks like she’s been here for weeks and hasn’t been fed for some time.When he was wiping her face, his eyes are filled with shock. The girl’s face is covered in blood but the red and blue veins did not obscure because they were glowing and her eyes are a mixture of creepy purple and green.

“What’s your name?” he said. The girl tries to think, but all she can do is groan in pain from thinking too much. The boy calms her down my stroking her hair.

“Niko.”

Now

A 15 year old girl is sleeping until…..

**Beep-Beep-Beep!!! **

An annoying sound of her alarm clock wakes her up. After hitting  the snooze button with her red tail, she crawls out under her bed and yawn. She uses one of her hands to push her bang to look at the time. 6:00 AM. Her brother must have set the time for her. Her room is is filled with stuffed animals on the floor and crayons and papers scatter there as well. Photos of precious memories  (her 8th birthday, Christmas with her big brother and her mom, and her big brother’s 13th birthday) on the purple walls. She look at the note she saw on her front door. Her brother must have write it. Niko grab the paper and swallow it in her whole mouth. She give a big smile.

“Today is DA day!”

She cheer, then she tripped herself on the floor.

“Oof!”

Niko went to the bathroom to brush her teeth with a purple toothbrush that have her name on it. She look at the mirror and sees her reflection: She has reddish-brown skin, cyan and white colored hair style in a bob with bangs covering her eyes, a red dinosaur-like tail. Niko touch her head to see if she have her horns. To her relief, her horns are not here, because she fear people might call her a freak. She look at her hands. Sometime her hands are claws and sometime human hands. She gasp and saw her claws, she started to panic, she took a deep breath and concentrate on reversing her claws back to hands. And she did it.

_It is still you. _

Niko grab the clothes she is going to wear for school in her drawer and head straight to check if her mom is there. Niko see her mom, a redhead, getting ready to go to work by dressing herself up in a lumberjack attire and donning her axe.

“Mom, is Ethan awake?” Niko asked.

Wendy look at her. “Hmm? I’m not sure, Niko. Can you wake your brother up? I am heading out. Be back at 5. I’m going to stay at work a little late, so make sure you tell Ethan to make dinner tonight, okay?”

She makes sure Niko remember by writing it down on paper and giving it to her.

“Okay mom.”, she answers, putting on her headband. It is blue with a pink heart on it. She is dressed in a purple shirt, white pant, and pink-purple boots. The problem was it that she put her purple shirt backwards. Niko didn’t notice this but her mom did. Smiling, Wendy helps her shirt on right.

“Niko, you gotta pay attention when you put your shirt on.” Wendy playfully chides.

“Sorry.” Niko apologizes, looking down in shame. Wendy bought her into a hug, cheering up, she knows her daughter had low self-esteem issues.

“It’s alright, sweetie”, she soothes, giving her daughter a kiss on the head.

“Make sure you tell Ethan what I said, Niko!” she shouts as she leaves out the door.

“Okay, mom.” Niko responds, eating the paper in order to remember what to tell her brother.

She opened her door and she is in a room, her brother’s. The room is covered in Fall Out Boy posters and movie posters of his favorite genres, sci-fi, crime noir, and horror taped on the wall. He also has piles of DVD on the shelf. Right as she was getting near his bed, she stepped on one of his DVD’s. She picked up;  it read “No Country for Old Men” and she put it in the DVD shelf. She gets near the bed and sees her brother still sleeping, snoring like an old man. She walk toward him, stare at him for a moment.

“Brother get up, it is 7:30,” She whispers, but he doesn’t budge as he still snores.

She tries to wake him up again by pushing him, but it yields the same results. She puffs her cheeks realizing it’s become pointless to Ethan up. She tries to wake up Serpent.       

“Serpent.”, Niko whispered, nothing happened. “Serpent!!”, she whispered and slowly, a dark blue ooze started to seep out of Ethan’s back. Serpent woke up.

“What is it, Niko?”, he grumbled, his eyespots blinking slowly.

“Can you wake Ethan up? It’s time to go to school.”

“.....Ethan is going to be late, sis. I’m pretty sure you don’t know, but he had a night terror last night. He’s going through a lot of emotions right now and I think it would be better if you let him sleep.”, Serpent explains.

“I love you two. I hope you guys get the chance to become heroes.” she thought.

Flashback 

 Niko was reading a book and heard the sound of the door open. 

 “Ethan?” She called. 

She teleport and sees Ethan. She ran over and give him a hug, which oddly enough he didn’t return. 

“Did you make a big impression to the Vanguard League?”, she asks her brother in joy. 

But instead of seeing him in confidence, all she saw is depression, pain, and, especially, anger. He doesn’t say it, but she knows. She knows something horrible happened to Ethan. 

 “Ethan, what happen?”, she asks, worried for her brother. Ethan doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak for the first couple of minutes. He has his face down, so Niko can’t tell what he is feeling. He pulls a paper out of his back pocket and unfolds it. On top of the paper, it says on the top: 

Rejection 

 “I….I didn't make it,” he chokes. Tears are dripping down his face as he continues. 

“I didn’t understand why, but now....n-now, I do”. After that, he walks into his room and shuts the door.  Niko tilted her head in confusion, but saddened by the news.

 “I am so sorry,” she said, feeling sympathetic about how crushed her brother is..

On the Bus

As Niko got on the bus. She put her backpack on her seat and check the inside of her backpack to see if she have everything. Instead of unzipping her backpack she use her X-ray vision.  Inside her purple backpack. Math Homeworks in her Math Textbook (with help from Andrew Cunningham), her completed Biology Worksheet (with the help from Ethan) inside her Biology textbook, her lunch bag, overdue library book, a bunny pencil case, and agenda.

The bus start to move. Niko check her phone she got out of her pocket and see a text message from Ethan. 

 Ethan: Niko, why didn't you wake me up!

 Niko: 😟. I did, but Serpent said you have been emotionally stress. 

 Ethan:..... 

 Ethan: I am going to be late. 

 Niko: Ethan wait-

 *Ethan left the conversion*

 “Darn it,” she curses. 

Just then, the bus stop, Niko look at the window and see a girl outside sitting on a bench. Niko examine her: She have brown skin like her, and depending on her height, she is possibly a year younger than her. She have eye are yellow like a sunflower petal. Her red hair is in pigtails. Her attire are a salmon pink sailor uniform top with a sky blue ribbon, short salmon pink skirt and thigh-high heeled white boots. She is wearing goggle probably because it is sunny outside. As she get on the bus, she remove her goggle. Niko grab her backpack, put it on her shoulder and slide down in hoping that she can sit down with her. Hoping that Niko can make a friend.

“Excuse me, do you want to sit down with me?” Said Niko. The young girl look at her and thought for a moment. “Okay,”

“I am Mari Salazar, what is your name?” Said the red pigtail girl,

 “Niko Corduroy,” Niko reply. 

“I am fifteen years old, I am a raised in Townville and live with my mom and big brother, Ethan. I loves to draws and drink milk,” 

 Mari giggle, she never see anyone one so energetic. Niko tilted her head in confusion. She wonder if she said something funny so she ask. 

 “What is so funny?” she ask.

“Oh nothing, for the first time in my first week in residing in Townsville, I never see anyone too excited.” She explains. “People will be scare of me or surprise and try to be on my good side if I mention about my father.” she explain.

Niko bow her head. She shouldn't have said too much, how ever she start to talk again.

“Your father?” she ask.

“My father is Rex Salazar and he is one of the greatest heroes of all time, he secret weapon for Providence, a global organization dedicated to protecting the world from rampaging EVOs. EVO stands for Exponentially Variegated Organism. They are organism that has had its intracellular-nanites activated.

Niko smile because she never knew that Mari is a child of a hero. She wonder if she can introduce Ethan to her. Maybe he can be friends with her too. 

 “So why did move to Townsville?” she said.

 Mari blush a little. “Oh it is kind of personal but, I want to join The Vanguard League, so I can be a hero just like my dad, and one day work for Providence. However, I am not good at fighting, but I will try.” she answer.

 “The Vanguard League,” Niko thought.

 Niko remember the day, five months ago when Ethan is miserable because of his rejection from the Vanguard League. To make it worse, his friend, a member of The Vanguard League, Rénee wrote a letter to him that he can not join because of how dangerous Serpent was (even though to her, Serpent is a sweet and thoughtful person with an attitude) and also, the crimes that Ethan’s father did. She never met him and Ethan, her mom, and Uncle Dipper never talked to her about it. They might be the reason why he have night terrors last night and going through a lot of emotions right now. Niko tighten her fists.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said to Mari. “Even if they are nice and accept many super-powered teenage heroes, they will shatter your hope, one way or another through a background check or one simple mistake.”

Mari looks at her, she looked angry at the moment. She wants to know but she believes it’s best not ask. Mari thinks about the Vanguard League and then her family. She thinks of the black sheep that is all alone in the shadow of the sunshine, her family and their legacy. 

Lunch Break 

 As she return her library book and quickly ate her lunch, Niko head to the cafeteria, she hope that Mari is here eating her lunch. Niko starts thinking of conversations for another interaction with her when all of a sudden she accidently bump into someone. She realize it is Cayenne. Niko gulp in fear. She heard about Cayenne from her brother. Ethan doesn’t like Cayenne at all because of the constant insults she sends his way. 

“Hey! Watch where you are going!” she said. 

 “I am sorry,” she whispers.

Cayenne glare at Niko eye-to-eye, but Niko's bang hide her eyes.

“Why your bangs covering your eyes, you look like a mop. Can't you get a haircut? Or at least put your bang up?”

“No.” Niko whimper.

Cayenne lift her eyebrow for a moment. Did that student said no to her. 

 “What did you say?” Cayenne demand. 

 “I said no.” Niko answer quietly. 

 “Louder?” 

 “No!” Niko yell. 

 Feeling annoyed, Cayenne raise her hand that is close to Niko. “If you are not going to let me see your eyes, let me do it for you,” “

Are you… touching me?” she said in fear. 

 As Cayenne lift her bang up to get a glimpse of her eyes without answering her question, Niko start to scream. 

“AAAHHH!”

 The students stop what they are doing to see what happen. Cayenne back off and glare at Niko as she kneel on the floor shivering.

 “Do not touch me,” Niko said. “Why is this happening to me.” 

“Fine, whatever weirdo.” she call her as she walk away.  She start to mumbling words at Niko: “The only one you should blame for the situation you are in is yourself.” 

 Niko start to cry, she should have listen to her brother, but her meeting with her is unintentionally. Just then a she heard a male voice in a Irish accent. 

 “You are alright?” said the boy. Niko turn around and see Ryan, the emo and lone wolf of Townsville High. 

She blush slightly. She cannot believe it got worse, her crush is talking to her. Instead of Ryan lending Niko a hand he just stand there and lend against a wall. He brush his rusted red hair that falls over his right eye with his hand. 

 “I am not,” she said honestly. “Cayenne touched me.”

Ryan didn't show any sympathy and instead he coldly said to her: “Whatever, like I give a damn.” He said. 

 “But why did you ask that I am okay?” Niko ask in confusion. 

 “Why do you care!?” Ryan snapped.

 “Sorry.” said Niko and then look at the floor.

 Just then a strawberry blond haired girl wearing a bell-shaped blue dress shirt with a pink flower in the center appear and recording a video on her phone.

 “Story Time, it was clear that a romance was blossoming between them,” Ryan and Niko turn and see Vivian, still recording the cellphone.

 “Vivian! Cut that crap, we are not in love!” said Ryan angrily. “

Aw can't you at least give her a kiss?” Vivian tease.

“Why don't you confess your love to Cayenne as soon as I break your phone?” Ryan said as a threat and a tease. He put in fists together to show her his rage.

As a moment of silent occurs, Vivian start to run.

 “Get back here!” Ryan yell as he chase after her. 

 Niko’s cheek turn red as she is blushing when she heard the word, kiss. Just then Tamara Thunder come and see Niko lying on the floor. 

 “Niko, why are you on the floor?” she ask. Niko stand up and wipe her clothes. She look at Tamara and sadden. 

“I’m sorry, Tamara. I just had a moment.”, she said in a mixture of sadness and self-loathe. Tamara looks at her and gives her a consoling frown. 

 “Hey, how ‘bout your big sis take you to class?, she grins. Niko gives her a returning smile. 

“Thank you.”, she acknowledges. With the two girls walk to Niko’s classroom. When it comes to Ethan’s friends, Andrew and Tamara, they were basically Niko’s older siblings. Whether it was Andrew teaching her a little bit of martial arts or Tamara explaining to her how to be stand up for herself, she appreciates them. As Tamara take Niko to third period class she wave a goodbye.

Final Period: Biology

Niko sit on a black desk. She see a girl in front of her. She have wavy black hair, brown skin, and almond shaped black eyes. She is wearing a blue t-shirt and ankle-length jeans and shoes that are not fancy or athletic. She saw her reading a Biology Textbook. Niko look at her eraser labelled the name, Lauren Lee. Niko thought for a moment. Suddenly, her teacher come.

“Good Afternoon, class I hope you put your Biology worksheet on my desk,”

 Niko's eyes are widen, she quickly open up her textbook, and found her worksheet and hand it over to her teacher. Then, she sit down.

 “Thanks you, Niko. Where was I? Oh yes, we are going to start out anatomy unit. Let's start by dissecting fetal pigs. Everyone please find a partner to work with.” 

 As everyone gotten a partner, Niko just sit there and all alone hoping that someone will ask her. But sadly she did not, then her teacher glance at her with concern. Then she saw Lauren who is looking for anyone who don't have a partner also. Lauren has just been transferred to highschool level biology because of how outstanding her grades are in science that her classmates barely treated her equally, while Niko who need to have determination if she get the chance to graduate. So the teacher got a idea.

“Lauren is it okay for you to be with Niko?”

 Lauren Lee stare at Niko. Niko wave shyly and give a big smile in hope to show her that she is harmless. Lauren thought for a moment she look at anyone who haven't have a partner and then look at her the teacher. She sighed, feeling in defeat. 

 “Okay,” As the teacher left. 

Lauren tell Niko: “Since we are partners, you have to do exactly on what I am telling you.” 

 **************** 

 Niko sit down and watch as Lauren holding a sterile knife and cut sound the umbilical cord and in a “U” shape. Then, she cut the ribs and sternum with a bone cutters. She open up the chest cavity and look at it. Lauren ask her Niko to come to her. As Niko stand up to  go be with her. She could smell the fresh smell of a preserved dead piglet. She see the inside of the pig's organs. It look messy. Is this what butcher do. “Niko see this membrane,” said Lauren as she point at the thin membrane around the heart. 

“This membrane protect the heart. Write that down on your assignment sheet.” Niko obey her instruction and write it down. She keep standing there as Lauren continue to dissect the pig. Niko look at the clock and sighed. She never thought it would be boring. All she does is sit down while Lauren get the fetal pig, set up the dissection, and command Niko to write her notes.

 “Lauren can I-” 

 “No.” Lauren interrupts.

Niko puff her cheeks, this is boring. But that give her an idea. As Lauren make a longitudinal cut through the throat toward the mouth, she try to remove the skin under the chin without cutting it too deep. She almost got it until Niko poke one of her shoulders. She turns around.

 “Hey Lauren, look at me. Hee hee hee.” said Niko as she put two test tubes up her nostrils.

 Lauren stop what she is doing and see Niko fooling around. 

 “Niko! Put them out of your nose, are you trying to make a fool of yourself and slack off?” she snapped. Niko shun for a moment. She put them out of her nose and apologize.

“I am sorry, it is just that I want to help you, but I am bored. You are doing the work while I have to sit down and copy your sheet in my own words. That is not teamwork.” Niko explain and then puff her cheeks, to show her partner how unfair she is and bored. 

 Lauren glare at her.

“That is because I am very focus on getting good grades, unlike some people,” she said coldly.

 “I am not doing this for my parents, I am doing this for myself.” Niko glance at her.

 “Are you saying I am dumb?” she ask.

 “No, but you are slacking off.” Niko took a deep breath, she know that arguing isn't the answer, she need to act tough, just like her “sister”, Tamara taught her. 

"Okay, then and whose fault is it for me to slack off? It is the leader, and do you know who is the leader? YOU!”

 Lauren start to open her mouth, but then close it. She never see Niko so serious. She often see her drawing in class instead of listening to the lectures.

 “If you want to have a good grade on this assignment and I want to do something, tell me not to sit around and have me do something!” 

 Lauren look at her even though her bang is covering her eyes. Lauren can not tell if she is serious or not, but her posture and the tone prove that she is seriously. Plus, she is telling the truth, she have been doing the work for herself and Niko, which means:

“Fine,” Lauren said as she give the knife to Niko. “You will dissect the fetal pig, and do not worry, I will guide.” Niko smile, it work.

 “Thank you Tamara.” 

3:00 PM, outside of school:

 Niko wait for her brother to meet her so they can walk to school together. She wait, and wait, and wait until she feel like he is not coming. She grab her cell phone and send a text message to Ethan. 

 Me: Ethan where are you? I am waiting outside of school 😢.

Ethan: Niko I can not walk home with you. I am busy. Please take the bus.

 Me: Okay. Thank You. Oh I almost forgot. Mom is going to be back at 5 PM. So you have to make dinner. 

 Ethan: Niko, you should have texted me in the morning? Why didn't you say anything? Niko: Sorry I forgot. Ethan: Ok. What do you want for dinner? 

 Me: 🌮 

 Ethan: Fine. 

 Me: I love You! 

 Ethan: Love you too. 

 Niko smile at the text and hug her cellphone with all her heart, she is lucky to have a big brother like him. 

 She saw Mari on the bus stop, but she is not alone, she is with a young man. She could not tell what the young man look like because of her bangs. Niko decide to take a closer look. Without hesitation, she start to walk to the bus stop. To her surprise, suddenly out of nowhere, an object covered in dark energy hit her face. She is knocked out for half an hour and wakes up, rubbing her face and feeling her forehead. There was a knot where she got hit and just when her eyes started to water, the bus showed up. She walked in, waiting for the bus to take her home. She couldn't understand, why was she hated. 

 However, she is not alone two people are in the same bus as her and they are sitting behind her, a  young woman standing 5’ 10'’ have short magenta hair with an undercut, light green sclera and purple irises. She wear a shoulder black shirt tucked in loose light purple shorts and black combat boots. She also wear her golden choker sealed with a dark pink jewel, and two ear piercings, a golden hoop and dark pink stud to match. And next her is possibly her half brother, standing 5'2” whose have pointy ears, green eyes. His hair is spiky and "greenish-blue" in color and he has an average complexion. His signature attire is a red hoodie, blue jeans, red high-top converse shoes, and fingerless gloves. His jeans is held together by a dark gray belt, and a buckle with his initials. 

 The young woman smack him in the head feeling piss for what he did. 

 “Nice going Edward,” she said. “You just made her cry. We're supposed to heroes undercover  and what did we do, knock out a girl.” she whisper as she look at Niko rubbing her eyes to stop tears from flowing in her eyes. She feels bad for what happen. The young man, Edward rub his head and look at her.

 “Relax, Sarina, we must not let Mari blow her cover,” said Edward. “This is our chance to infiltrate Claymore, a thief wanted for stealing in five countries, Jump City and now Townsville that the Young Blood Alliance recruited.”

 “She does not look dangerous!” Sarina exclaim to him as if she care more about the girl than the mission that Kingsley assigns them. “Plus, what if she just came to see Mari as a friend?” 

 Edward crossed his arm and glare at her. “Don't judge a book by it cover, she may look innocent, but I sense something dark within her. And you do too,” said Edward being serious about the mission.

 Edward Logan also known as The Changer, and Sarina Roth, children of  member of The Teen Titans, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire. They are affiliates of The Vanguard League recommended by Danielle Stone. They are task on a watching over Mari, a Vanguard Leaguard member-in-training  in hope she can complete her mission to find and capture the thief who is a human EVO. If this succeed, they will become official member of the Vanguard League.

 Edward Logan’s powers are different from his parents, Beast Boy and Raven. He may have telekinesis, but he have matter manipulation and thought projection. He know the basic moves of Martial Arts. 

 While his half sister, Sarina Roth inherit both her mom, Starfire and Raven's powers, Starbolts and Starwaves, Lazer eyes, Super Strength and flight is what she is most familiar with. She is attempting to learn Raven’s powers with slow progress. She is also very smart and uses this to analyze and critique problems and give solution to help people. 

 Sarina glance at Niko again, he might be right, but her psionic ability, empathy is eating her alive. She never seen anyone feeling self-loathing and facing hatred. This make Sarina feel like she want to explode. 

 “She’s just like me,” Sarina thought. “Being good without any benefits, and her still feeling like an outsider in the City of Townsville.” Sarina take a deep breath and let the air filled in her nostrils so that she won't let her powers unleash by her emotions. 

 Sarina look at the POW Card that Rénee, Vanguard League's Secretary of Knowledge gave to her. (Ever since Ken and Eiffel integrating Pow Card tech into the databases. It become very useful for them): 

 Name: Claymore Salazar

 Level: - 7 

 Species: Human EVO

 Alignment: Villain

 Powers: the creation of dimensional portals that can connect any two places, and possibly the past and future. 

Description:  He is a government project between the old hero, Rex Salazar and Breach, an unstable human EVO. He was suppose to be the next gen weapon for the Providence until his mom escaped from the government facility. After, being rejected from his father, he lives a life of thievery by using his power. 

 “We need to find him immediately, who know what have he been doing?” 

 At home:

Niko walks back into the apartment complex, reaching the 3rd floor and heads to door number 310, unlocking it with her key. She closes the door, locking it in the process; she goes to the kitchen and finds an ice pack  in the freezer and put it on her face. She plan to go to her room and try to find something to cover up her face so that her brother won't know, but then came trouble. As she heads to the living room, she sees her brother sitting on the couch. He turns his head, giving her an expression of worry. 

 “Niko, where were you?” Ethan said as if he have not see her for months. “It’s 4:45, mom and I have been worry about you, I wanted to search for you, but mom said to stay here in hope that you come home.” 

 “I was waiting for the bus,” Niko frown, sitting on the couch with him. Ethan look at her and saw Niko having an ice pack on her face. Ethan quickly push the ice pack away from her hand and to his eyes he saw a knot where she got hit. 

 “Who did this to you?” Ethan said as he put both of his arms around her shoulders, his face far from pleased.

 “I don't know,” she answer. 

 “What do you mean,” he said as he raise his voice. 

 “I..Ii.. I was walking to the bus stop to wait for the bus and I saw Mari. She was talking to someone and suddenly out of nowhere, an object covered in dark energy hitted my face.” She explain. 

 Ethan let out an inhumanly growl, what kind of person used their super powers to hurt innocent people, especially his sister? He didn't know who “Mari” is maybe she must be behind this.

 “Who is Mari?” Ethan ask another question. 

 “She is a friend I made today.” She said shyly. 

 At first Ethan is joy that Niko made a friend because she mostly go and eat her lunch alone and go to the library to read books or hang out with him and his friends, now she is growing up. But he need to know more about Mari.

 “What is her last name?” he ask the fourth question. “Salazar, why?” she answer the fourth time. 

 “I am just interesting because what if she did this.” He said. 

 Niko's eyes are widen, Mari would never do that. Niko met her in the morning and she was nice. Is her brother going to tell her to avoid her? 

 “I do not think so, she was talking to someone else, a young man. Probably her new friend from school or a brother when I went on to the bus stop.” She expresses in hesitance. 

 Ethan pause for a moment. Niko bows her head and give a sigh. 

 “I am sorry for making you have a heart attack….” She said. “I know you have been emotionally stress recently because of a night terrors, school, and- It won't happen again. I promise,” 

 Then, Niko rub her left arm with her right hand feeling less confident on her promise because she feel like she will break her promise, so she said her final sentences. 

 “I hope because I might forget one day…..”

 Ethan sadly smile and ruffled her hair. 

 “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll make sure you won’t.” 

Lauren Lee and Edward Logan belong to @shorty-tori

Ethan Corduroy, Andrew Cunningham, and Tamara Thunder belong @ej-cappy-universe

Sarina Roth belong @aj-thegreatest

Violet, Mari, and Claymore @hotsassbacon

Ryan, Vivian, Cayenne, and Rénee @princesscallyie

Niko Corduroy and Munchausen Young belong to me

[mistakemessenger606]

Crossdressing

After one of your bras gives out, you go bra shopping with Seven. Silliness and fluff and ridiculousness.

*****

It’s funny, how guys are obscenely interested in lingerie, but only when there’s a chance they’ll be able to take it off. You hold your wardrobe’s latest casualty in your hands, glaring half-heartedly at the wire poking out of the fabric of your (late) favorite bra. Bras giving up was a fact of life, but that didn’t mean you had to enjoy it. You toss the offending piece of fabric into the trash with only a brief flash of guilt, then put on a different one before leaving your room in search of Seven. This would all be so much easier if you had your own car, but that had been totalled when you’d left it parked during your extended stay at Rika’s apartment, and the jerk had driven off without leaving his insurance information. Your own insurance refused to cover it, and - anyway, that was beside the point. The point is that you now need to use one of your boyfriend’s precious babies to get around, and while he generally trusted you to use them, he never let you go without some amount of groveling.

“Sev, could I use one of your cars?” you request softly, leaning against the doorframe that led to the dim room where the redhead was currently typing away. A brief pause in his typing informed you that he had heard, but the clicking resumes a second later so it was clear he was rather focused.

“Seeeven?” you try, resigning yourself to how difficult this process may turn out to be. The sound of typing pauses for a little longer this time, and the brief flash of white you see reflected off the computer monitor informs you that he’s grinning, but the only response he gives is a noncommittal hum before he resumes typing more furiously that before.

You smirk a little bit, moving on to the use of your not-so-secret weapon. “Saeyoung~?” you purr, taking a couple steps closer, and you finally get the reaction you were hoping for. He hits the enter key with a flourish and immediately spins his chair to face you, pushing his clunky orange headphones down around his neck as he does to. He’s smiling, so you know whatever hacking he’d just done had been successful, and his gold eyes are shining behind his glasses, so you can tell he’s not upset about being interrupted.

“And how can the Defender of Justice help you today?” he questions grandly, leaning back in his chair so he can look up at you more comfortably. You roll your eyes good-naturedly, repeating the request to use a car. The grin that lights up his face informs you that he won’t let it go that easily.

“Why?” He questions innocently, batting his eyelashes.

“I need to go shopping,” you reply simply.

“For what?” is his reply. Something in his eyes makes you suspect that he already knows, but surely he can’t, because he’s sworn to you that he has no cameras in your room here.

“Stuff.” You can feel your cheeks heating up, the barest hint of a blush forming, and you can only hope he doesn’t notice.

His smirk informs you that he has, in fact, noticed, because of course he has. “What sort of stuff?”

Your blush deepens, and you fidget under his scrutiny. This shouldn’t be this hard to admit, not to Seven, of all people, yet it is. “Need a new bra,” you finally admit, your voice little more than a whisper as your eyes flicker down to the ground.

There is silence for a moment, and your traitorous brain immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusions. He’s decided that the fact that you even dared to mention something as secret and taboo as a bra is disgusting, as your brothers thought. He thinks you should just handle this yourself and not involve him in the process, as your ex did. He’s angry that you’re ashamed to tell him, as if you don’t trust him with it. You can feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes accompanying the last thought, because you trust him, of course you do, but the world has told you that this is something to be ashamed of.

Your spiraling thoughts are cut off as you hear the shuffling noises of him rising from his chair, followed by the soft sound of his footsteps on the carpet. His ratty sneakers soon appear in your line of vision on the floor in front of you, obscured by the tears that you furiously blink away. You flinch slightly as he takes your hands, but his thumbs immediately begin to rub soothing circles on the backs of them, so you relax quickly.

“Love. Baby. Sweetheart. Sugarblossom. Light of my life. The Honey Buddha chips to my PhD Pepper,” he murmurs, the nicknames getting increasingly ridiculous until you finally look up at him, fighting a small smile. You see nothing but love on his face, that dorky smile directed only at you, and your worries disappear. You know he can see the shine of tears in your eyes, but he doesn’t mention it because he knows better than to think that would help at all. He waits until you’re calm, looking at him trustingly, before he speaks again.

“I have been crossdressing for years. I promise you that I’m not afraid of bras,” he informs you. His voice is solemn, but the grin on his face is not, and the words startle a laugh out of you when you finally process them. His grin turns triumphant, and he pecks your cheek before dropping one of your hands in order to more easily hold the other. He hums happily as he drags you off down the hallway, and you can’t hold back a giggle as you follow. You can’t quite remember why you were afraid to tell him; goodness knows this dork would never let you feel bad about anything.

The two of you get most of the way to the spacious garage - where you had assumed you were going - before Seven abruptly changes his mind. You squeak, startled, as he pulls you in the opposite direction, but you follow obediently. He leads you through his room without pausing, and you’re just a little confused until he throws open the door to his closet with a flourish. There you see, across from his everyday clothes, a rather impressive collection of dresses, wigs, shoes, and - as he opens a drawer - yes, bras as well.

“Don’t think any of these would fit you,” he muses with an incredibly unsubtle glance down at your chest. “But there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Bras are great and you’re great and so we need to go get you the best possible bra,” he declares. He pauses just long enough to look briefly into your eyes, making sure you’re truly okay, before giving you another sunny grin and unceremoniously shoving you out of the closet.

You giggle helplessly as you stumble away, going to sit on his bed as the closet door swings closed behind you. You need only wait for a couple moments, and then he emerges, fixing the way that the bright red wig of ‘Mary Vanderwood 3rd’ rests on top of his own unruly red curls. The red hair clashes rather horribly with the pink on the shirt he’s changed into, which is some sort of blouse in the familiar colors of the bisexual flag, but he pretty clearly doesn’t care. He does a little twirl for you, the black skirt he’s wearing flying up just a little too far to be decent, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you. His antics have erased any trace of your earlier embarrassment, and his triumphant grin shows that he knows just what he’s accomplished.

“Come along, love! Time to go find lovely new bras for you and me!” He cheers, and you don’t even bother trying to point out that you only really need one new bra and the plural is unnecessary. He struts out of the room, looking far more confident in the impractical heels he’s wearing than you ever could. You hurry to follow, a bright smile on your face.

This time he actually does lead you to the garage, and he walks among his ‘babes’ indecisively. You wait silently, knowing that for whatever reason, his cars are important to him and choosing one to drive isn’t a process that can really be rushed. He pauses by his favorite cherry red Corvette convertible for a somewhat uncomfortably long moment, before sighing something about his hair and moving along. The white Porsche is next, and he runs a hand over it before moving on to his personal favorite. He pauses at his obscenely expensive Jaguar-patterned Jaguar, and gives you a grin because he knows just how tacky you think it is. You shake your head abruptly and point to the car nearest you - a relatively reasonable cobalt blue Mercedes. He sticks his tongue out and calls you a spoilsport, but obligingly gets in the car you’ve indicated and waits for you before starting the engine, which comes to life with a satisfying purr.

He drives you into town way too fast to be considered ‘safe’ or ‘legal’, but the both of you have exhilarated grins on your faces as the road flies by underneath you. He parks outside of the mall and leads you directly into Victoria’s Secret, with you following along behind him because he doesn’t give you much of a choice. He grabs a pink basket and begins to dart around the store, stopping only once to inquire about your bra size before he’s off again.

Your eyes widen as the collection in the basket grows in size, but your hesitant protests fall on deaf ears. He sing-songs something about “only the best for my darling,” and only when the basket is alarmingly full does he tug you back to the fitting rooms. The attendant briefly fusses about the number of bras, but Seven blinks his long lashes at her, and she lets the two of you into a room.

Seven’s shirt comes off immediately, revealing a lacy bra that he’s stuffed with who-knows-what. He then hangs the new collection of bras on the hook on the wall, all while you stand there, dumbfounded. Only when he looks at you expectantly do you shyly take off your own shirt, a flush on your face despite yourself. It’s not as if it’s anything he hasn’t seen before, but you’re acutely aware that you’re in public, which is a very different setting than when your shirts normally come off. The twinkle in his eye is a playful one, though, rather than seductive, and the only move he makes is to toss you an entirely impractical pink bra covered in sequins. “Start trying stuff on, babe,” he suggests with a wink, reaching into the pile of bras to try on one he picked out for himself.

You set aside the sequin bra - because really, it’s cute, but sequins on a bra just sounds like a horrible accident waiting to happen. You somewhat hesitantly reach for what appears to be a plain white bra, like the one you need to replace, but it turns out to be plasticky and holographic and really, you’re not sure what Seven was thinking with this one.

As if his attention was caught by you thinking his name, Seven turns to you, a grin lighting up his face when he sees which bra you’re holding. “Oh, you found that one! Isn’t it wonderful? It looks like a spacesuit! For a very specialized part of your body! Remember when we said we’d get married in the space station? It’s so perfect, I love that bra. We’re getting it for you if it fits. And I’m getting one too,” he gushes. You stare at him for one heartbeat, then two, wondering if he’s serious, but his bright grin doesn’t dim.

You slowly shake your head in disbelief, but of course you try on the bra. It fits well, much to his clear delight, so you silently resign yourself to the fact that your wardrobe will soon gain a spacesuit bra. “Whatever you say, Sev,” you agree warily, dropping the bra into the basket of bras that he seems to be buying for himself.

The two of you continue trying on bras until you’ve gone through the stack, a process that includes a great deal of giggles and compliments. The poor fitting room attendant gives you a bit of a nasty look when you finally emerge, no doubt assuming that the loud giggles were a result of some sort of messing around, but Seven simply gives her a sunny smile until she looks away. Her coworker, working the register, has a very different reaction to the two of you, her face lighting up as your boyfriend dumps hundreds of dollars worth of bras on the counter in front of her. He refuses to let you pay for your own - now that he has you in his life, his ridiculous amounts of money go towards spoiling you rather than buying more babes to fill up his garage. He glances only briefly at the total before swiping his card as the salesperson carefully slides the bras into the signature pink bags, which she then hands to the two of you.

When you arrive home, you spread the new bras out on your bed and sigh at the ridiculousness of it all. You did manage to get the plain white bra you actually needed, but thanks to Seven’s amusing reactions, you also have a couple new lacy ones that he threatened a nosebleed over. You also have the ‘spacesuit’ bra that matches his, much to his delight. You run your fingers over the plasticky surface of the last one, before looking back to grin at your boyfriend. “Maybe if we buy Jaehee one of these, too, she’ll actually come to the wedding,” you remark with a giggle. His eyes light up, and he’s on the phone to order one as soon as you finish the sentence.

~*~*~

He is entirely too delighted by the angry voicemail he receives days later when the bra is delivered to her.