#thanks to her parents and scavengers and all sorts

[meltingangels]

Hehehehehehe Frankie brainrot

[msgrieves]

𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅

summary : tom riddle decides to give you a lesson in herbology when you seem to be slacking 💞

warnings : smut, in public (a library), she/her pronouns used, dumbification, handgag??, fingering, lowercase intended!!

ೃ⁀➷ this is my first time writing a fic/smut so be warned for cringe; fyi i chose to make the reader's last name carrow!!; written in 3rd person because i can't bring myself to write in 2nd person rn 😣😣; no use of y/n

lonely, she felt. amidst the solitude of the library she felt lonely. all signs of life had long left, leaving her alone with merely her own consciousness and the heavy snores emitting from madam scribner's dribbling mouth.

she felt like she was going crazy, rereading over the same article over and over again, fruitlessly scavenging for any information she hadn't picked up through her last fifty searches. in the pindrop silence she heard a cough, nearly sending her into a heart attack; glancing up from her disordered desk she met the protruding gaze of tom riddle,

"miss carrow, are you aware the library closed over twenty minutes ago?"

his expression mocked her, as if she was unaware of such primary rules. of course the library had closed long ago, she'd been checking her rustic pocket watch every five minutes in fear of a professor waltzing in and catching her. she feigned a tone of innocent obliviousness:

"oh sorry tom, i seemed to have lost track of time, i best be on my way now."

she hastily shuffled out of her seat, slotting assortments into her rugged leather satchel and slinging it over her shoulder in a hurry.

"not so fast.." riddle tutted at her condescendingly.

he took a sharp inhale, glancing at his dress shoes before back up her, taking a small step back.

"how come you're out so late?"

the dreaded question.

she'd hoped to escape him before he had the chance to completely humiliate her: give her a good scolding.

"..studying" she answered, vague.

a questioning look arose on his face.

"studying?" he repeated, his voice mocking hers.a simple nod would do.

"for what?"

"herbology."

an incredibly useless subject she took only because she wanted as many qualifications as possible.

he scoffed, he'd certainly shown up in a pissy mood. there was an uncomfortable pause, him looking her over before opening his mouth again.

"you're free to go."

her eyes widened, her tongue unable to stop herself from saying:

"what?"

...

"would you like a detention then?"

"..no" she shook her head, quickly.

"then leave, now." he repeated, this time firmer than before.

well this was shocking. he'd allowed her to leave freely. normally it'd take an entire hour of him berating her before even considering letting her return to her dorm - usually accompanied with a week's worth of detentions, just because he could.

she didn't pass the oppurtunity, scurrying out before he had the chance to rethink his decision. she didn't question why he let her off the hook. she was simply thankful he did.

a day had passed. it was now sunday night. she had the huge herbology test in only a few hours. she couldn't score anything below outstanding, otherwise her parents would be upset with her, professor beery would be dissapointed, and riddle would get one over on her but that mattered very little to her considering the worser consequences.

again she sat at her little table tucked away in the corner of the library. the incompetent librarian snoring away as per usual.

she took a break from her relentless studying, idly volunteering her help by sorting jumbled books which the first years had so carelessly tossed around.

she strolled a lap of the lavish library, sorting out obvious messes of disordered books before returning to her desk, finding riddle occupying her seat.

without needing to announce herself, he spoke up, somehow just knowing she was there.

"you've got this all wrong."

a focused look fixed upon his face as he flicked through the endless notes she'd written over the past week on the various plants professor beery had instructed the class to research.

"excuse you?" she scoffed in annoyance, striding largly over to him and harshly snatching the worn notebook from his hands.

who did he think he was? searching through her personal belongings?

"your notes. they're all wrong." he repeated, a blank look on his face as he fixated his gaze on her now, leaving her stomach a fluttering mess which she chose to ignore in fear of what could be revealed about her stemming from it.

"you shouldn't've even been snooping through my stuff. get up." she urged, waiting for him to move so she could reclaim her seat.

"but they were wrong-"

"-i don't care, get up."

his jaw clenched and he inhaled sharply, standing up nevertheless as she resat in her wooden chair. he pulled another over, inviting himself to join.

"i think you're forgetting whose in charge here."

he gave her a daunting glare, sitting down next to her. in all fairness as head boy he had the ability to send her back to her dorm right now, seeing as she was out past curfew, again.

"now.." he took a breath "do you need my help?"

he sounded empathetic. shocking for someone like him, who despite his charming reputation she knew to be one carless soul.

"no, i do not need your help-"

"-i think you do." he replied, his blunt tone not budging.

he brought his chair closer to her, gently taking the notes from her hands and spreading them on the table in front.

before, him going out of his way to help her seemed like a distant fantasy. what on earth was his motive behind this?

"read over your notes for me."

he placed a strong hand on her shoulder, patting it harshly as if it were an easing, friendly gesture, but instead it caused her to stiffen and shrink further into her seat.

"the entire thing?"

"would you like a detention?"

he kept using that stupid threat. it worked every time though. she took a deep breath, biting back her anger.

"lavage-"

"first of all you've spelt it wrong."

he interrupted abruptly, bringing his hand from her shoulder to point it at the word written in a messy scrawling at the top of the parchment, then residing it down on her thigh. she tensed up, unsure of how exactly should she react.. should she push him off? she wasn't quite sure how she felt just yet.

with his right hand he borrowed her quill, scratching out the incorrect spelling to rewrite it as 'lovage' in a smaller font just above her old writing.

"continue" he hummed, now drawing light circles with his thumb onto her upper thigh.

her breath hitched, she tried to steady its pace, restarting her reading.

"lovage.. similar to broccoli-"

his hand made a sudden dip to explore her inner thigh.

"celery." he corrected, not arrogantly.

strange. he was being helpful, not mocking her for being wrong.

"celery." she repeated affirmatively, "its common use-"

merlin this man wouldn't shut up and let her talk.

"start from the beginning. once your done you can return to your dorm.. depending on how well i think you've done."

how well he thinks she's done?? in what world is that fair. she scowled at him, giving him a distasteful look, though he was too focused on the notes in front of the two of them to notice.

she took a deep breath,

"lovage." she repeated, rather dramatically.

his fingers began tracing higher up her thigh, slipping up her skirt and beginning to toy with the elastic hem of her undergarments beneath the desk.

"similar to celery, its common usages are-"

her sentence was cut by a breathy moan, where in gods green earth did that come from.

he'd traced lower down to her cunt, his fingers precise and sure.

"restart." he sighed exasperatedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was occuring.

for merlin sake, he was nearly fingering her under the table- and she let him??

she groaned, in annoyance of his persistance, in annoyance of his fingers hovering so teasingly over where she needed him most.

"lovage. similar to celery. its common usages are for befuddlement draughts,"

"and what else?"

"what do you mean 'what else'??- the book only sAI-"

his index had slipped between her already moistened folds, applying the lightest pressure to her clit as he dipped the tip of it into her hole, she stiffled an unholy noise from seeping out from between her lips.

"quiet. madam scribner's still asleep." he warned, holding back a cocky grin.

what a sick freak. fingering her in a fucking library?? what was he thinking?

she covered her mouth at the attempt of another moan pushing through with his movements unceasing, abiding silently despite the protests inside her head.

she shook her head after a moment, her brows furrowed.

"i can't do this."

"sure you can dear."

"no, no, no i genuinely can't-"

she couldn't. not with someone she hated so much but was so attracted to? all it did was fuck with her feelings.

"keep reading."

she gulped dryly, trying to restart but without warning he'd slipped a first finger into her. she covered her mouth with her hand again, muffling the lewd noises from the innocent ears of the librarian a few metres away. sure the distance between them and madam scribner was large but it was only them there. if she woke up, there was no hiding.

deep breaths.

"lovage, similar to cE-lery, its common usages are for befuddlement draughts,"

her voice cracked as he swiped her clit with his thumb.

"well actually any confusing draughts." he interjected.

she groaned loudly in frustration with him interrupting and with the pressure he fiddled her with. he now clasped his own hand around her mouth, shushing her.

"that's all you need to know for this plant, don't worry about the rest dear." he eased, her taking his word for it seeing as she just wanted him to end this torture already.

he pushed in another finger, her slouching down on the chair as much as she could to push him deeper inside her.

he waited a second, slowly beginning to slide them in and out, careful as to not make excessive amounts of noise with the obscenely slick sounds envolping the silent room. the rough ends curled up, fingers exploring her insides with expertise.

she could've came on just two fingers alone.

"tell me, what was the name of the plant again?" he questioned quietly, his pace fastening by the second.she was limp now, lost in his touch. this was becoming clearer now. it was just his sick and perverted way of humiliating her.

"..huh, m'sorry..?" she asked, nearly sounding drunk as her eyes gazed up at his again.

"name of the plant dear," he uttered, looking her into her soul as he was reminded of how easily he would sway the morals of others simply by using his less.. dignified skills along with his good looks.

"lavage," she answered, confident as she didn't think over her answer.

"haven't you been listening? or has me simply slipping a finger or two into you made you this dumb?" he cooed, his words lined with a condescending type of mocking.

"oh, fuck- lovage i meant-"

she was quick to correct herself, earning a swipe at her clit as he began to pay more attention to it.

he sighed, as if this was an inconvenience to him - if so why was he doing this?

"and it's similar to?"

merlin, she didn't need an entire herbology lesson whilst he was messing around with her insides.

"celery,"

she was met with an ever deeper push of his fingers, hitting a spongey area deep inside her, one she didn't even think was possible for him to reach with his fingers alone.

"again."

"..celery..?"

she was confused to say the least, his motive was rather unclear.

he tutted and abruptly pulled out his fingers, wiping them on the inside of the fabric as he slipped them out of her panties, smearing the remainder of her juices that he unsucessfully wiped away onto her thigh, making the sheer tights she wore glossier.

she squirmed, an uncomfortable tensing in her abdomen having being left to suffer.

"why- why d'you stop?" she murmered, her thighs rubbing together to mimic the previous sensation but not even being able to come close to the pleasure of it.

"i need to work harder to knock my teachings out of your pretty little head."

ೃ⁀➷ sorry for the abrupt ending i just wanted to get something out, lmk if you want a part two !!

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

[amazinglyegg]

hi!! i want to say i love ur blog sm. its amazing and one of my fav blogs.

i have a hc where sole picks up children’s toys, teddy bears, jangles the moon monkey, and giddy up buttercups while walking thru the wasteland looking for shaun. could u write a react for fo4 companions asking why they pick up “that junk” vs their reactions after finding out the reason why?

Thank you so much!! And this is the most adorable headcanon ever, I love it <3<3<3 I can only imagine how hard it'd be for Sole to constantly see all the toys they was planning to get Shaun for Christmas all broken down and rusted. Plus not even knowing if he's alive or if he would like any of them anymore... augh my heart </3

Companions react: Sole who collects toys for Shaun

Ada

She doesn't even bat an eye when Sole goes around picking up every toy they see

Sole probably only tells her the truth once they overhear Ada calling it scrap

After that Ada will make very sure she doesn't scrap any toys she finds and instead leaves them in a nice pile for Sole to sort through and keep any they want

Might even find it hard to scrap the toys Sole doesn't want (because they're too broken or unsalvagable)

She definitely gets wanting to keep something to remember someone by, and seeing Sole do this might just convince her to keep a transitional object that reminds her of Jackson

Cait

Cait immediately feels like crap for complaining so much

Not only because she kept complaining about Sole's habit, but she had definitely made comments on how dumb and boring the toys are in the past

She doesn't really get it since she's not a parent (and never wants to be), but she still feels like she should have realized it sooner

It also hits a bit close to home for her because she never really had many toys as a kid, so realizing Sole cares about Shaun so much they're constantly looking for trinkets for him is almost unreal to her

She'll probably not say much about it for that reason, too awkward and vaguely in disbelief that parents actually do that for their kids for her to make any comments

Codsworth

Oh he is SO supportive of Sole

Even before Sole tells him they're for Shaun he's pointing out how much Shaun would love them

Probably has Sole's Christmas list for Shaun still stored in his memory (because let's be honest Sole was definitely obsessing over their baby's first Christmas back in October) so he'll point out whenever they find a toy that was on the list

He'll probably go out of his way to grab any toys he sees for Shaun as well

Shaun's bedroom is going to be PACKED with toys before he even gets out of the Institute

Curie

Definitely more curious than frusturated with Sole picking up toys

Might push Sole too hard for an answer at first, but realizes her mistake and apologizes when Sole tells her the truth

I can imagine her having wildly different reactions on it, especially while she's getting used to emotions

One day she's going "but Shaun already has three blankets, no?" and the next day she's crying at the sight of a broken teddy bear

Grief is such a big emotion for Curie and she's so empathetic she's 100% going to be more weepy than Sole is a lot of the time

Danse

Sort of stuck when Sole tells him why they collect toys

On one hand it's his job to tell Sole to drop down the unnecessary stuff and travel light... but on the other hand... they're grieving

So as much as he wants to complain, he probably won't

He gets this is Sole's way of coping and whatnot but he's never been too good at empathy in general, so he won't really know what to say

He definitely won't bother Sole about it, but he will also just kinda ignore it

If him and Sole are close he might (rarely) bring them a toy in good condition he found (he's a scavenger at heart, of course he'll be looking for those things)

Deacon

Probably one of the most initially annoyed companions in this list

He hates kids and everything to do with them so before finding out he'd make plenty of half-jokes half-complaining jabs at how much the kids toys suck

Every time Sole picked up another toy Deacon's saying "Why did they have to make that face so weird?" "Did kids really play with this crap?" "If Santa got me THAT as a gift Christmas would be ruined forever!"

But once Sole tells him the truth he feels like a major asshole

He's another emotionally stunted man who won't know what to say!

He'll mostly ignore it and look the other way, but he'll also sometimes offer to carry the toys for Sole if their pack is too full

It's the least he can do after being so rude to them

Father

He definitely felt Something when Sole told him that fact (sympathy?? Longing?? Who knows)

The fact that he never left Sole's thoughts even while they were struggling to survive in the wastes means a lot to him (he has parent issues okay?)

Gets a bit weirded out if they still insist on gathering toys and giving them to synth Shaun

Like... he's a robot... he doesn't play with toys... why are you grieving me when I'm right here (he's also very emotionally stunted. Unsurprisingly)

Generally not too empathetic about it, and will definitely comment on it if Sole tries bringing dirty/broken toys into the Institute

Gage

Least likely to back down and apologize like the other companions after Sole admits the truth

Probably takes the realist approach of "There's toys everywhere... why can't you just wait until you actually find Shaun and then bring him to an old toy store or something?"

Will be a lot easier on them once he knows the truth though

It's just weird when they're surrounded by toys everywhere. They're literally in an amusement park. Can't Sole just bring Shaun there once they get him??

He's also a bit worried about Sole seeming like a softie, or trying to leave Nuka World once they get their kid back

A toy car or a deck of cards is fine, but you are NOT parading a five foot tall teddy bear around Nuka World. Gage will put his foot down for that one

Hancock

He'll probably only get annoyed with Sole's collection if it manages to get in the way of their work

He has always found childrens toys creepy... he's pretty thankful not many kids wander around Goodneighbor for that reason

Once he finds out the truth his demeanor will change from mild annoyance to "you know what? You do you"

He'll probably find an old tire or something and go "You think Shaun would like this??"

He doesn't know what kids like!! Especially old world kids. When he was a kid he would have been entertained for HOURS with just a stick... why wouldn't Shaun??

Either way, he lets Sole go do whatever they want to do. He won't judge as long as he doesn't have to look at Jangles for any longer than necessary

Maccready

Feels like a complete asshole for not connecting it together sooner

Childrens toys, missing child... how did he not SEE that

Hell, HE grabs little toys for Duncan every once in a while. Obviously he can't judge

He might be a tiny bit salty though

He's had to teach himself to not pick up every toy he thinks Duncan would want because he simply can't send them all to him, so seeing Sole constantly fawn over plushies and trinkets... just kinda hurts knowing he can't do the same at the moment

That being said if he finds something he wants to give to Duncan but can't, he'll give it to Sole instead

Ends up being a pretty good system for them both

Nick Valentine

Out of all of the companions he'd be best at emotional support

He'll sincerely apologizes for bugging Sole about the "junk" they've been lugging around and will reassure them that Shaun would love it

He still remembers which toys were popular at the time and will talk to Sole about it whenever they find one

Catch him and Sole repeating commercial jingles back and forth

He gives them a lot of space to grieve and never complains about all the toys once he finds out who they're for

He doesn't shy away from gently putting his foot down if Sole gets a bit ridiculous, but he does so very, very gently

Like "Hey, that teddy is in tatters. How about we find one that's a bit more... huggable?" or "Shaun doesn't need two Giddyup Buttercups, but if you're okay for it I know a little girl in Diamond City who's been begging for one all year"

Old Longfellow

Aw hell, why not?

Definitely empathizes with them

He feels bad for Sole once he learns the truth so he's perfectly happy to just shut up and let Sole do whatever they need to do to grieve

He's also not really a toy person so he doesn't get it

Like "you think your kid would like THAT??"

But whatever. Sole knows their own kid better than he knows them. If Shaun gets traumatized by seeing Jangles the moon monkey, that's Sole's fault

Piper

Likely to take an "aww, that's sweet" approach to things

Similar to Hancock in that she... doesn't really get it??

Like who needs all these old toys most people don't know how to play with?? Nat played with a rock and a loose piece of string when she was little and she was just fine

Tries to show enthusiasm but ends up going wayy off the mark

She grabs a Barbie doll and says "wouldn't Shaun like this?? He can... I don't know... brush her hair??"

"Shaun would love this!" "Piper that's a mechanical keyboard... with no computer" "Well maybe Shaun would like pretending to write stories!"

Preston

Straight up apologizes for being so harsh to Sole

He didn't need to be so rude about Sole picking up toys. It's their backpack, they can fill it with whatever they want

Appreciates what Sole's doing and will make sure the kids in any settlements don't touch Shaun's toys

He's pretty curious what a lot of toys actually do. He'll ask Sole things like "so do kids... just... sit on the Giddyup Buttercup? And do nothing else??"

Will offer to carry some toys or have caravans bring them back to settlements if they're too much for Sole to carry

X6-88

(assuming Sole's either keeping the toys for themself or wants to give them to synth!Shaun)

Doesn't get it

Father is right there?? Why are you grieving his childhood and focusing on a synth instead of being proud of his achievements??

Going into headcanon territory here but I assume the Institute probably makes toys for (the scientist's) kids to play with already

Not to mention the Institute is pretty anti-clutter, and Shaun doesn't "need" toys to begin with

He just can't wrap his head around why Sole feels the need to hoard a bunch of old broken toys when good ones are in the Institute already

If Sole just insists on keeping the toys in the old nursery he'll be a bit annoyed but won't show it (gotta respect the future director and all)

[entomolog-t]

Finding Strength

Finally finished a G/t July Prompt; Impulsive! I’ve been planning this story for a little while based off of this post, and I’m so happy for an excuse to start posting it! 

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Word count: 2715

CW: Adult language

Life was good, thought Tamius, and he needed it to stay that way. The tiny man slipped out from the small hole he’d made behind the fridge, with more than just a little skip to his step. He found himself dancing as he trotted out from beneath the appliance, some peculiar human song stuck in his head as he strutted out in the open. Like clockwork, at 4:01 pm he had heard the human clamor down the stairs, apparently giving up the hunt for some misplaced bottle of perfume, followed by the thud of the door as she darted out of the house. A near identical scene would play out almost every other day; Always in a rush. 

This human's apparent lack of time management leading up to whatever it was humans did when they left their homes was the greatest blessing he could ask for. That titanic fool would pick up her phone, notice the time and barrel out of the house, hastily leaving whatever it was she had been doing unattended. Most days this was usually in the form of food left on the table, alongside whatever they had been doing on their laptop. 

He quickened his pace to a jog, the air around him filled with the scent of something absolutely divine awaiting him on the kitchen table. His parents had been so worried about him going out to find a place of his own- but man, they were worried for absolutely nothing. All that fretting and bothersome nagging about safety protocols and potential dangers had nearly had him question if he was ready to go out on his own- but this was so easy! He’d somehow managed to stumble across the easiest human imaginable; The epitome of obliviousness. This colossal oaf a woman was scattered, unorganized, and inattentive; the perfect combination in his mind. Scavenging was always plentiful, and even better yet, she never noticed a single thing he took. 

A total ditz, he thought. 

His luck hadn’t stopped there either. Even with her chaotic nature, this perfect mess of a human was somehow still wonderfully predictable; Out of the house by 4:00pm nearly everyday, back by 7:00pm, in bed by 10:00pm.

But the best part? That enormous twit was the least intimidating human he’d ever seen. He had watched them countless times, almost pitying them as they struggled with each step up the stairs. Their movements were perpetually stiff and sluggish, as if they were perpetually exhausted… The only time he’d seen any sort of energy from them was when they’d dart out of the house. 

He tossed his hook upwards, a smirk playing across his face as it caught the edge of the table on the first try. Oh yeah, this borrowing stuff is a cakewalk. Hand over hand, he scaled the length of kitchen twine he’d swiped a few weeks back, loving how its rough texture provided him extra grip as he climbed.

Heaving himself up, he surveyed his score. He could have kissed that bumbling idiot. There it was, a half finished stack of banana pancakes, complete with chocolate chips and maple syrup. His mouth watered. He walked up to the plate, hands perched on his hips. He had brought a wad of cling wrap to take back food in his bag… but…

Fuck it. 

She wouldn’t be home until 7:00, why not enjoy a meal at the table?

Tamius continued to hum that strangely catchy human song, reveling in the freedom of being out in the open. He found himself bouncing along to the rhythm, anticipation building for the oh-so-sweet bounty before him. Nimbly, he danced around the plate, his skillful movements filled with lighthearted vigor, as he avoided stepping in the pools of syrup. He ripped off a large and syrup soaked chunk of pancake, and proceeded to stuff his face. Thank God for dumb huma- 

His thought was interrupted by the slam of a door and a myriad of expletives. He felt his body go rigid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to be late.”

Fuck was right. 

Deep breath. He hastily scanned his surroundings. Kleenex box on the table. Cup to his right. Bag on the chair- Bingo. 

He dove. 

Tamius landed in the open bag with a soft thud, rolling into a stand. 

He felt a familiar cocksure grin creep back onto his face. Too easy. This human could throw no curveball that could catch hi-

For the second time in the span of less than a minute, his thoughts were interrupted. His world lurched and he was flung back, narrowly stifling a yelp.

Oh- oh no.  

She had come back for the bag. 

It was his turn to curse; a torrent of expletives slipped from his lips, whispered fiercely through gritted teeth. Where the fuck was he supposed to hide?? He was trapped. Unknowingly caught. No. This couldn’t be happening. His heart pounded in his ears, nearly drowning out the thunderous steps taking him further and further away from his home. He felt his throat tighten. Fuck. He ran trembling hands through his hair, pulling at firstfulls as if should he pull hard enough he’d rip an idea straight from his scalp. The booming slam of the car door pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. 

He needed a plan, and he needed one now. 

Breathe. Scan. Asses. Decide. He inhaled deeply, and tried desperately to ignore how his breath quivered in his chest. He was fine. Not scared at all. This human was an absolute ditz. The epitome of human idiocy. He just needed to figure out how to keep out of that colossal ditz’ line of sight. The car engine roared to life and Tamius felt as his every muscle stiffened. They were leaving.  He steeled his nerves. 

Think. Don’t focus on the car. You need a plan. 

His legs seemed to move on their own, as if trying to keep pace with his frantic thoughts.

Okay, so I’m trapped. We are driving away from the house. If I stay in the bag, the bag will get brought back to the house around 7:00…

He chewed his lip. Three hours was a long time to lay in wait in the stupid confined space of the bag, but what other option did he have?? He could try to escape while that big oaf was driving, but then he’d still need to get back in the bag to get back into the house… The house that was growing farther and farther away by the second. 

What if he had to abandon the bag? He had no idea where he was. Even if he did, the distance to get back would be insurmountable. His heart hammered in his chest. Leaving the bag was not an option. There was no way in Hell he was leaving this easy life behind. He would figure something out… He had to. 

Tamius scanned his surroundings. The bag hadn’t been zipped all the way, and there was just enough light pouring through the opening that he could aptly assess his situation. He sat atop a towel, a pair of shoes to his left, haphazardly thrown in. There was a water bottle beneath him, along with various articles of clothing and a mishmash of smaller items scattered about; pens, deodorant, a granola bar, lip chap, perfume... He let a small smile creep on his face. This human was a mess, and he would not let himself be unintentionally found by someone incapable of intentionally finding their own belongings. If this idiot would just put things in the proper pocket, she’d have no- 

Thats it!

He took the small knife he’d fashioned from a discarded razor from his hip. That massive idiot never used the proper pockets! Carefully, he crawled towards the front of the bag. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize how the pockets were oriented on the bag. In his mind's eye, he saw it; the pouch that sat at the lower half of the front of the bag. Yes! This would work! Opening his eyes, he cautiously judged the distance to right and left. He was dead center. Perfect. 

Taking his knife, he sliced methodically, keeping the incision as small as he could manage, lest his handiwork be noticed before returning home. Gingerly, he cut his way into the front pocket, clambering inside. He breathed a sigh of relief;  it was completely empty. She had no reason to peek in this pocket. He was safe. 

Tamius barely managed to finish his sigh of relief when he felt himself lurch forward as the car came to a halt. He clenched his teeth. Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about. The dumb human was just going to do dumb human things for a few hours and then he’d be back home, safe and sound. He just needed to wait it out. 

His world was jostled as the bag was haphazardly lifted up and slung around the human’s shoulder. He gripped onto the internal fabric of the bag’s front pocket to avoid getting sent flying around. His stomach felt as if it dropped farther and farther with each step, and he swore he could taste the sweetness of the banana pancakes rising up in his throat. Tamius swallowed hard. 

Enough of that. This was pathetic. He’d found a safe spot. All he had to do was wait around for what? Like 2 hours and change? A total cakewalk. Baby Food. An absolute nothing. This was fine and he was fine. 

He listened intently, trying to gather any information he could about his location and surroundings. The sound of a door closing shut... Foot falls echoing… Voices… Voices with a particular resonance. He grimaced. Wherever he was, it sounded like a large open space. As he continued to listen, his scowl deepened. He counted the voices; one, two.. Three… four, five, six… seven… 

He stopped after he reached 10. Suffice to say there were too many humans. 

The feeling of dread was overwhelming. He couldn’t see a damned thing, and though he doubted he wanted to see his predicament, the lack of sight gave him a creeping feeling of being vulnerable. The booming voices resonating in an open room so far above him… he felt so small. 

No. 

Not felt. 

He was so small. 

Of course he knew he was small. He’d never stood taller than a coffee mug for the entirety of his life… and yet… he never truly felt small. Not like this. This was overwhelming. The mental barrier he'd work so hard to wedge between his conscious mind and the primal fear that lurked just beneath the surface shook under the realization of his own insignificance. Just the presence of beings so astronomically larger than himself made his stomach churn. His head fell into his hands as he struggled to keep himself from shaking. God, he felt pathetic. Just a few hours. He could manage. He would manage. 

The booming chatter died down as the sound of human music filled the room. A strange rhythmic thundering coincided with the change in ambiance. He could feel the floor shake beneath him. As strange as the surrounding noise was, he welcomed the sound of human music. 

You could never know what it's like

Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice

And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you

You’ll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use

He found his voice joining in, shaky and soft,

"And did you think this fool could never win?

Well, look at me I’m coming back again, 

I got a taste of love in a simple way, 

And if you need to know while I’m still standing, you just fade away,”

As he sang along softly he felt his anxiety melt away, slowly but surely. The minutes dragged on, punctuated by changes in songs, and occasional muffled shouting, indistinguishable from the surrounding noise. Tamius tried to calculate how long he had left by adding up the approximate time of each song… two minutes here, four minutes there - 

Thud. 

A tremor far more impactful than all those preceding it shook him from his thoughts. He heard a distinct grunt, and then, again, another thundering sound of impact, like something colossal crashing down. The noise was far greater than any foot falls he’d ever heard. 

Thud. 

He heard a human speaking somewhere above him. Though muffled, he recognized it as his enormous dolt of a human. She had muttered something about needing to use more.. hip?? Surely he couldn’t have heard that right. 

Thud. 

“Better, but like, I feel like I’m not getting any pop, you know?” What??

Another voice muttered something in apparent agreement. 

“You mind if I try one more time?” 

This piqued his interest. Carefully he gripped the rear of the zipper, opening the front pocket just a fraction. Just enough to see what could be causing such a commotion… and what it could possibly have to do with hips and popping??

As he laid his gaze on the pair of humans the fear he felt was instantaneous and palpable (tasting strangely like banana pancakes). He knew no amount of quiet singing would quell the rising panic from what he’d seen. For a moment, it was as if his brain refused to register the scene before him, as he stood unmoving, mouth agape. He saw his human, but it was as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. 

Her messy hair, slick and soaked in sweat, and tied back revealing sharp and focused eyes. Her figure, no longer drowning in her typical oversized clothing, was not at all what he had expected. Her broad frame had always seemed to suggest she was heavier, and he'd assumed they had just been soft, or chubby… Looking now, she was certainly broad, but the size she carried was overwhelmingly muscular. Each thundering step caused her legs to tense and relax, giving Tamius flashes of muscular definition. He swallowed numbly. Awe and horror swirled in his mind. He wanted to look away… pretend he'd never seen the sheer power that had been sitting underneath her lazy attire, but he couldn't. This couldn’t be her. 

She was smiling; saying something to another human towering above him. He hated how familiar it was; her smile, her laugh… it was undeniably her, yet it was as if he could barely recognize the behemoth standing before him. He stared up at the pair, mind somehow both racing and numb simultaneously… And then they moved. 

He felt like the wind had been sucked out of him. 

Humans were supposed to be slow. His human especially. But the reality he had become so accustomed to seemed to crumble around him. The other human reached towards her, but with uncanny precision, she redirected the incoming arm before it could touch her, her body moving with obscene fluidity. Tamius found the ease of her movements disturbing, as he watched her clear past the oncoming arm, stepping in flush to the other human's side. Her free hand reached around their body, with her trailing hand snapping around the opposite side, locking her grip tightly around the other human's body. 

Before Tamius’ brain could catch up to what was happening, the human was airborne. 

Thud. 

His whole world seemed to shake. Both physically and metaphorically. 

No. 

No. No. No. 

He felt bile creep up his throat. This… this couldn’t be her. She's a mess. An idiot. A ditz. Not.. not this!  She fucking threw another human with such well practiced ease as slinging a bag over her shoulder. His knees trembled for a brief moment before giving out entirely. He fell back into her bag, tension rising as reality set in around him. 

That human was a threat. 

He looked down at his hands. They trembled. Stop.... Stop. Stop! STOP! FUCKING STOP! It felt as though he was pleading with his body, begging it to submit to him. His hands never stopped shaking. Hiding was all he had, wasn't it? Not strength, not speed, not agility… The only thing keeping him safe was the fact he was too small to be noticed.

And he needed it to stay that way. 

[illfoandillfie]

Late 80s Roger x Reader making love (a bit kinky if you want, anything really, just something sexy and cute) and having to keep it quiet bc of their kids.

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 7

Ahhh thanks anon this is a great prompt! Hope you like it for day 7 of the advent calendar!

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), implied p in v sex, implied unprotected sex

Neither your or Roger had ever been anniversary people. You had friends who were. They made big deals celebrating it at expensive restaurants or big parties and got each other gifts corresponding to how many years they’d been together. But neither of you had ever been like that. It wasn’t that you didn’t care or didn’t want to acknowledge the date, you just didn’t need to make a fuss. You kept things low key. Half the time Roger was away on tour anyway so there was no point making a big deal of it. It’d just lead to both of you feeling bad you couldn’t celebrate it together. When he was in town you might have dinner out or buy a bottle of champagne to accompany whatever you ate at home. Or sometimes you just counted it as celebrated if you got to have sex. Especially since the kids had come along. You used to try to make the sex different to normal in some way – a position you’d read about and wanted to try, and act normally reserved for special occasions – but you hadn’t even bothered with that recently.  

Admittedly, it was easier to have some alone time now they were all a little older, but still, three kids under the age of seven did not an especially active sex life make. Mostly it happened very late at night, right before you went to sleep. You were almost counting the days until your youngest would be at pre-school so you could manage a day at home with Roger, even if you had to take sick leave to do it. The kids were all generally sleeping through the night, but you did still have to contend with them sometimes stumbling into your room after a bad dream or a wet bed. More than once they’d managed to interrupt you at inopportune moments. So, when you realised your anniversary was coming up, you decided your present to both Roger and yourself should be a decent shag. One where you could actually finish without stopping first. Where you wouldn’t have to throw a robe on and show your daughter there was no monster in her closet and then stay with her till she fell asleep while Roger’s hardon deflated back in your room. Of course, Roger was in very strong agreement when you mentioned your idea, and during the lead up made sure you knew how much he wanted it with little squeezes and comments that made you blush muttered quietly to you while the kids were distracted. Which just made you more determined to have a good night. You considered palming the kids off their grandparents for the night but your parents weren’t free and Roger’s lived just a little far away for it to be worth the trouble. But hiring a babysitter would mean also getting a hotel room and eventually you agreed to make it work at home, you’d just make sure not to get too loud.  

The key, Roger confidently assured you, was making sure all three kids were completely worn out before you tucked them in. Bad dreams were the biggest risk but there wasn’t a whole lot you could do to prevent that. You just made sure the night light in the girls’ room was working and hoped it would be enough. But Roger took charge of exhausting the three of them – instigating tickle wars, playing whatever silly games they came up with, and then, when he wanted to sit down, coming up with objects for them to search the house for like some sort of scavenger hunt. When they were all looking sleepy you herded them off to do their teeth and get them settled. Roger read to the younger two in their shared room while you got the eldest settled with a warm milk that sent him to sleep quick. You hurried back to your room and stripped down to your knickers to save some time, settling on the bed, impatiently waiting for Rog. Almost absentmindedly you began touching yourself through your panties, but you figured things would go a lot smoother if you were even just a little bit ready by the time Roger was finished with the girls.  

He entered about 10 minutes later, pulling his fly down as he walked, pausing only to drag a chair under the doorknob just in case. If one of the kids did try to come in you’d get up but you didn't have to worry about being barged in on.   “You ready?” he asked, throwing his shirt across the room, “Because this is it, this is our shot.”  You giggled, trying to stifle the sound with your hand, “shhh Rog, we have to be quiet. If we wake them we’re screwed in the not fun way.”  “Well the girls were practically snoring before I got through the third page of Clive Eats Alligators so I think we’re good but sure,” He held his finger to his lips, somehow making the action feel sarcastic.   “Oh shut up,” you laughed settling back against the pillows and opening your legs more.   Roger took one look at your parted thighs and hastily kicked off his underwear, crawling toward you on the mattress.   You giggled again as he hovered over you for a kiss but too soon he moved away again, settling himself between your legs.   “Oh, okay really?” you asked, surprised as he kissed the front of your knickers, “Thought we were just going straight for the main event. Been touching myself to get ready.”   “I could tell and the wet spot made me want to taste you. So just stay quiet and let me.”  You squeaked a little as he licked over the wet patch, earning a little nip on your thigh before he pulled your underwear off and pressed his lips to your cunt.  

It had been a little while since you’d last managed any sort of oral but the way Roger so enthusiastically went about it made it seem like he’d been denied your pussy for years. Which made it all the more difficult to keep your pleasure to yourself. Small moans and whines escaped your throat every so often and, despite how hard you tried to keep them quiet, Roger seemed to enjoy telling you off for the smallest whimper. He’d hum in warning which would inevitably make you more inclined to moan again. He’d catch even the softest sounds, giving you little bites as punishment. You tried to deter his teasing by smothering your whines with your arm, something that clearly amused Roger and only seemed to encourage him. His attention on your clit became even more focused, until he drew another string of sounds from you.   “Do I need to stop?” He asked playfully, though it was hard for you to recognise the joke when you were so worked up.   “Please don’t. So close,” you managed to get out as Roger returned his tongue to your slit.   “Good,” he said against you, “Want to get you off like this.”   He made it hard for you to keep quiet, all his focus on your cunt until you gasped, a hand tightening in his hair as you came. That’s when it was Roger’s turn to moan, though he muffled himself easier than you managed.  

The shifting of the bed brought you back to the moment. Before you knew it, Roger was easing himself into you, biting his own lip at the feeling. After a few inches, he distracted himself by leaning forward and kissing you, stealing what little breath you had, groaning against your lips as you tightened around him at the slight change of angle. Slowly he sank deeper, filling you inch by inch. You grabbed his arse, encouraging him to go faster, and he grunted into your neck at your eagerness.   “I’m trying to be gentle, love.”  “Just fuck me, Rog.”  He chuckled at that and kissed you again and he let the last few inches of his shaft be swallowed by your cunt.   “Better,” you moaned.   “Alright, gonna start moving,” he grunted in warning.  The bed creaked as Roger moved but he didn’t find it as funny when you told him to keep it down.   “Do you want to be fucked or not?” he grumbled, giving another tentative thrust, making the bed creak again. Your laugh was cut short by a gasp at the way it felt as he moved within you. 

For a little while you both lost yourself in the sensations, ignoring the creaking as you chased your highs. And then you heard a cough from somewhere down the hallway.   Roger stilled instantly, and you bit back a whine at the abrupt end to the stimulation.   You both listened for more noise – small footsteps, a cry for one of you, the jiggling of your doorknob. There was a squeak from a different bed and you willed it to be nothing more than it’s tiny occupant rolling over.  “Swear they have some sort of sixth sense for when we’re trying to fuck,” Roger breathed out, “You think that’s it?”  You shushed him and strained to hear more but everything was quiet again, “Yeah, false alarm.”  Roger sighed against your throat, “If I didn’t love your pussy so much I’d regret spending so long going down on you.”  You batted his shoulder, “Just hurry up before one of them wakes for real. Want to feel you cum in me.”  Roger was laughing softly as he kissed you, only to eager to do as you asked.

[tenjiiku]

the first snow: 2/2

The other day Rin had fallen asleep on the train.

Something about the early Spring of Japan — snow melting off of blooming sakura trees — stirred a quietness inside of him. It felt nice, which was an unnatural and unexpected response to be felt considering how much he had grown to resent his time spent alone. He has tried not to. He has tried to keep his eyes open — tried to keep his head straight. The early afternoon sunlight and the mid-workday lounge from the train to Yotsukaido from Shibuya City welcomed a tranquil commute. It was something Rin had been unknowingly thirsty for; a peace worth only ¥3100. Often, after his sporadic train rides — Rin would find himself at a park. He’d play a few matches of football with the children there, if he were up for the task of socialising with both them and their parents that day. More occasionally, Rin would scavenge for a tree to lounge under, and count the number of blades of grass he could reach for with his index finger and thumb in one motion (the most he has done by now, is 9).

Lately, he has been thinking of you.

He thinks of your face. He thinks of your smell. Rin has been finding it harder to lay with other women, as of late. He hates you for it. He barely knows you. It’s very disturbing. This, Rin is aware of.

The last straw occurred last week. His old friends had known he had returned. By some stroke of faith — perhaps out of resentment for you — Rin had agreed to partake in one of their mixers. A number of women had shown their interest. Nonetheless, when it inevitably came time to leave with one of those whom Rin could at the very most tolerate, that tolerance, too, had dissipated when he had climbed over her.

“Itoshi-san.”

He had seen your face. He had heard your voice. He smelt you in her for half of a second before falling down from his delusion. Rin had left the woman in a hurry. She called him all sorts of names that he can’t seem to quite remember. His friends told him to never come to a mixer with them again, but Rin didn’t care much about it.

He’d been wanting to get rid of them for a while.

Rin should give you credit where it is due — perhaps this fascination blossomed in his interest.

A kick to his stomach.

Rin’s eyes open, groggily. The sunlight reaches him before his pain does.

“Mister, are you dead?” A bratty voice asks rather loudly.

“Are you dumb, you idiot? Who asks a dead person if they’re dead?”

“Shut up, Toru! I’m worried!”

Two small voices pierce his ears. Rin feels numb, but he manages to sit up regardless. He finds himself in front of two concerned-looking adolescent boys at a park of some sort. He rubs his eyelids, placing his elbows on his knees, pushing his hair behind to reveal his forehead.

“Geez, we thought you’d never wake up.” The louder of them proclaims. The more contained one simply nods, crossing his arms around his chest.

Rin rests his forehead on the palm of his hand, looking down at his lap languidly. He feels thirsty, but a yawn escapes his mouth instead of a complaint.

“What time is it?”

The calmer of the two replies this time, “Six thirty.”

“We’d been here since two o’clock — and you hadn’t gotten up since!”

Rin lifts his head up. He can almost see Tokyo Tower from here — if he tries hard enough (if he feeds into his delusions enough). He shakes his head and rubs his eyelids, and the image disappears. Rin is craving for a bowl of his mother’s ochazuke right now.

“Ah. Thanks, kid.” The tall football player wobbly stands up. He balances himself on one of the children’s heads — the nicer one, because Rin sees himself too much in the quieter one and Rin knows his younger self would sooner bite the hand off of such a person. They simply gaze up at him like a sort of irregularity.

“Mister, will you be alright?” The smaller one asks, staring at Rin with concern. Rin does not know why he cares so much — but, pondering on it a little more — he would too — way back then.

Rin simply nods. “Yeah. Think so.”

The two children watch as he walks towards a dead end street. Rin pretends he knows where he is going to save himself the embarrassment of turning back around.

It is too late. He is much too old for this.

.

.

Rin does not find himself home. He finds himself somewhere in Tokyo.

He’d gotten off at Hibiya Station, near Hibiya Moat, but Rin had found out about the Moat after departing from the station. He’d gotten off in the first place simply because he liked the name — the way it sounded when the automated train voice blurted it out loud in the half empty cart. Rin walked for a while, until his nose had caught the scent of something warm and savoury — leading him to a shoebox izakaya: aptly named Hibi.

He is on his first beer — he’s been drinking slowly, because Rin knows he should not be drinking in the first place — but he feels a little restless today. He would only indulge in one. The izakaya is empty for the most part, typical for it being a rainy Tuesday evening.

Rin feels his phone vibrate. He inches it out of his pocket, and reads the banner notification. His manager is looking for him, he half realises. He’s been out the entire day. Rin is not entirely sure why his manager is so angry about it — it is his off day. Maybe he knows how much Rin is walking on a fine line, coming close to edging off of it. He is no longer in his prime, after all. His mother had phoned him the other day, asking him when he would have time to visit — followed by questioning him about retirement and marriage.

Retirement and marriage. Rin had no fucking idea what to say.

“It’s beautiful weather.”

He looks up, an elderly man has taken a seat to his left — two stools away. He holds a cigarette in one hand and plays with a edamame seed in the other. Rin puts his phone away without giving it a second glance.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Rin says after some delay, not going unnoticed by the senior.

“Why the hesitancy?” The old man questions, his voice gravelly, no doubt because of the tobacco he has most likely smoked for a lifetime.

“I have been having trouble sleeping,”

At this admission, the man laughs, making Rin feel a bit stupid. Only for a moment.

“There are only two reasons one has trouble falling asleep at night.” The strange man made of tobacco starts, “It is either their thoughts of what is to come, or what has already happened, that keeps one awake. No sane person would have difficulty, otherwise.”

Rin does nothing but stare at the man. He watches as he raises his half-empty glass of whiskey to his lips, and Rin notices he does not have a ring finger on. He also notices tattoos that start from his wrist, and, no doubt, continue upwards to his arms — concealed by the fabric of his ironed brown coat.

Rin chuckles, a little forced and heavy, and stares down at his lap, cracking his neck and clicking his tongue. “And what do you believe keeps me up at night, sir?”

The man does not answer right away. In fact, he does not answer at all. Instead, he indulges in his whiskey and snacks. Rin follows his lead and finishes his beer, sighing into his bowl of gyūdon.

When the old man has had enough, he stands up, placing a couple of dollars under the small plate that once had a handful of edamame in it.

He reaches Rin’s side, and Rin only hears one more remark before he leaves.

“I think only you can find the answer to that yourself, son.”

Rin turns the other direction, and watches as the man walks out into the rain. He sees his figure retreat into the distance, and looks back down at his bowl of savoury beef and rice. He looks around the empty restaurant, his mind starts to wander. He thinks about the two children he met earlier and wonders what their lives are like. He thinks about the woman he left at the mixer and feels a twinge of guilt. He knows he shouldn't have used her like that, but at the same time, he can't bring himself to apologise.

He needs to figure out why he's been feeling so lost lately, why he can't seem to connect with anyone else. At this thought, he finishes the last of his beer and pays the bill. 

When he steps out of the izakaya, the rain has stopped.

.

.

.

It’d take him 3 lonely nights for Rin to admit to himself he wanted to see you again. He wonders if he torments you as much as you do him.

It almost pains him to walk to Lawson the next day. He convinces himself he is only going there for his favourite brand of energy drink. If he does not feel anything, he will never come back again. It fits in with his schedule. It is only ten minutes away from his hotel. It’s just natural, Rin reasons.

It is just conventional. The most convenient option. Rin’s hands are tied. Truly, he has no choice.

The familiar chime of the door open greets him like an old secret he’d forgotten he’d been told in his youth. You are stocking up ramen, the middle aisle, and, conveniently, the one aisle that can be seen from the entrance.

You turn. Rin holds his breath. He knew he had lied to himself the first night you met. Still, it takes him aback. You are beautiful.   

“Itoshi-san,” you mumble, a bit breathless as though to mock him, “you’re back.”

Rin looks away, collects himself, then looks back at you — a bit pained. “Yes.”

He was preparing himself to hear a myriad of questions, and having to answer them all. He really did not want to, but he had to, if he wanted to get over himself. But you do not ask him anything. 

You nod at him, smiling — eyes shaping into half moons, “Welcome.”

.

.

It has been a month since he has been in Japan. Rin visited his mother the other day. He managed to sit through the talks of proposals from families of girls he supposedly knew — and he even talked about taxes with his father.

Conversing with you has been good practice.

Like now:

“What laundry detergent do you use?”

Rin leans against the counter of the hot water station, careful not to accidentally turn it on and give himself second degree burns. You are squatting in front of him, setting up a box of fresh sandwiches. Rin grabs an egg and cheese one and holds back a smile as you glare at him for five seconds, before you go back to work. He stares at you intently. You were young, younger than him. Still in school, you worked part-time at Lawson to pay for tuition and bills. You were the eldest of four siblings: three brothers (all fans of his), and Rin had remembered how lightheaded he’d felt when you told him so (and how you had all but laughed in his face).

You were a hardworking creature. You never seemed to get particularly upset or frustrated. You performed the tasks you were given and ate your fill. It seemed to Rin you had reached a level of peace within yourself that he himself is still searching for, despite being nearly nine years your senior.

“Koa. I use their Flair fragrance. Only when they’re on sale. Which they always are.” You answer, snapping Rin out of his reverie. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand and sniffle.

“It’s false marketing, I say,” You murmur, tone of voice a bit peeved.

Rin huffs. It is his form of expressing amusement. He stares down at his egg sandwich and suddenly does not feel hungry. He does not quite know why he had taken it in the first place. Was it to grab your attention? Possibly. Every conclusion only ever led to you, recently, and Rin despises himself for being so odd. He wishes you were a bit easier than you were — wishes he’d met you in a more relaxed environment. But, the more time Rin spends with you, he does not think a couple of drinks would have gotten you to loosen up around him. He thinks God had planned this period of struggle for him when he needed it the most.

You stand up with a deep sigh. Rin tenses up.

“Why are you asking?” You inquire.

Rin looks to the side. He looks at his egg sandwich that he did not even want. Then, he looks at you. Or — down, at you — given the difference in height, and all.

“You… smell nice.”

The awkward sentiment comes off even more abnormal than expected. No sane man in his early thirties has any reason to be making a frequent visit to Lawson, and although his acquaintances have informed him that he has — indeed — never really been anything but strange for most of his life, it is a hard pill to swallow when it manifests itself into something even Rin could sense the uncanniness in.

You do not even seem to mind. At least, not for as long as Rin had been scared you would have. Though your eyebrows furrow and your mouth parts — to spit a questioning refute no doubt — Rin watches the gears behind your eyes shift as you fall back and do the exact opposite.

“Oh, thanks,” you blink. “You… smell good, too.”

Rin will never be able to read you, this fears and excites him both at once.

“…Thank you.” He mumbles awkwardly after a couple of moments of silence.

Sensing his hesitancy, you divert the topic to something else. You grab the yukikaze garlic miso ramen from a shelf, and approach him at the water station. Rin slightly steps to the side — afraid that if he’d touch you, you’d burn.

“Would you like some?” You turn to him, having to slightly crane your neck to look him in the eye. Rin shakes his head. You roll your shoulders and crack your neck, opening the package.

He watches you intently — not knowing what to say, not knowing where to put his hands, eyes, or self. It’s hard navigating his personal space when he has so little of it. So, he focuses on the back of your neck instead — your blind spot, he had soon found out after nearly the twentieth time he’d been lost staring at it. Your hair is in a near constant up-do, exposing the lovely nape of your neck. Something about it felt vulnerable, Rin does not know why.

A hiss escapes your lips. Rin flinches in his spot. He watches as you recoil your hand from the tap of the hot water machine and furrow your brow at your index finger.

“Ouch,” you state, almost robotically, making a small smile appear on Rin’s lips. You don’t seem to notice. You only but lift your index finger to your earlobe and put it between it and your thumb.

Rin raises an eyebrow.

“Does that really work?” 

Your lips slightly lift up into an amused, almost cruel, smile. Rin’s palms feel sweaty.

“Ah, I don’t know… I’ve seen actresses on television do it.” You explain, gesturing him your chopsticks for him to break. Rin does so, not without overthinking, and returns them to the same hand that gave it to him.

He watches as you mix the now softened noodles and seasoning around in the bowl. Then, to continue the topic, he says, “That’s dumb.”

At this, he gains a soft guffaw from you.

“I am aware, Itoshi-san, but they looked pretty doing it.” you mumble, playing with your food and a pout painted onto your lips.

Rin does not pay that much attention to the media, so he cannot prove the accuracy of your claim. All he can do is hum and pretend to look away as you raise the bowl of ramen to your mouth with your hand that you take away from your earlobe.

After yet another awkward pause, you ask another question nearing the end of your bite. “Do I look pretty?”

“…No.” Rin lies.

You laugh at this. Rin’s heart jumps at the sound — at the prospect of you finally relaxing around him. He thinks he can too, now.

“Itoshi-san, how rude.”

Rin looks to the side, not knowing how to respond to that.

Suddenly, you reach for his hand. He jerks his head to the hand touching his, and looks straight at you as you gently bring his hand to his earlobe. He understands the message, and tries to hear you over the sound of his internal monologue.

“Here,” you slowly whisper, positioning his index finger and thumb to fit his earlobe. Once it is done, you let go and stare. “Woah.”

Rin narrows his brow consciously. “What?”

You bite your lip, then you smile.

“Nothing. You look… pretty.”

A silence descends upon both of you. A hint of colour rises to Rin’s ears, and he pretends to scratch something on his face. You look down and away, into your cup of noodles — seemingly choosing to eat your food rather than torment Rin. 

.

.

You had told one of Japan’s star football players he smelled nice after he had complimented your scent — to his face the other day. More than your odd sentiment, the delivery was not any better. It seemed as though a wet spot would have a better time expressing itself than yourself.

Frankly, you were nearing twenty-three, working at a Lawson, close to graduating with a scholarship to graduate school on standby, awaiting your arrival — and Rin Itoshi of all people had fallen gracefully into your lap.

If this was the universe’s way of owing up to all of the debts it was due; it had overpaid.

Still, he was pretty to look at.

So when Rin left everyday, with a nod and the question “Will I see you tomorrow?” all you ever could do — all you ever chose to do — was nod.

.

.

.

You were in a mood that much Rin could tell. 

Rin never had a sister, and his mother was much like him, so he did not really understand the minds of women. He liked to believe he was well-versed in most things, but when it came to being charismatic and likeable at opportune moments — moments when it really mattered — he has never been able to get his footing down.

Yet, with you, he does not need to try.

“I’m twenty-three,” you randomly state, sitting on cardboard boxes filled with stock at the back of the store.

It is lightly raining on a Tuesday afternoon, and your eyes are razor focused on the water that drips from the pipe on the roof of the Lawson, joining its droplets to form a sizeable puddle on the pavement. Much like the rain, Rin has decided to keep you company (follow you from the back door and quietly take a seat next to you) for your 15 minute break.

“Oh,” Rin blinks at your proclamation, grabbing a shrimp chip from the bag you direct his way, “Nice.”

You grab for one at the same time he does, and Rin’s heart jumps at the softness of your hand against his. Like always, you never notice. You only grab for a handful that you ungraciously bring to your mouth to chew. Rin grabs two of them and eats it in a small motion.

“I still feel nine, at most.” You grumble through a mouthful of food. Rin would find it to be disgusting but you are the culprit doing it.

“Is that a good thing?”

Rin narrows in his sight to the column of your neck. You gaze upwards, eyebrows furrowed — almost as though you are in pain. Rin wishes he could understand it, he wishes he could be able to take it away. Seeing you so distraught feels wrong.

“I… don’t know. I just… feel weird.” You whisper, “I thought I had so much time on my hands. And, I know I still do it’s just— I wish I’d have a week to sort my brain out. I always feel like I’m falling behind.”

Rin watches as you shake your head, and a solemn smile appears on your lips. He notes the way you gaze at the rain, the small clench of your hands. You remind him a lot of himself.

“You’re not, though.” He states. Your head turns back to him, laughing a little, and though his resolve shakes a bit, he remains looking at you.

“Itoshi-san — do you not ever feel scared? For what is to come and what has already gone?” You question softly, almost as though you were sharing a secret. Rin sees the old man from the izakaya in your eyes, taunting him for an answer. And, after several months of pondering and being tormented by the thoughts of you, he has finally been able to come up with an answer. 

“No.” He soundly says, “No for both. I don’t carry regrets and I don’t know why I’d care for what’s to come. Can’t do anything about it except let it hit me.”

A crinkle forms between your eyebrows, as you raise them in question.

“Does that not… hurt you?”

Rin shakes his head at the accusation. “Sometimes… but, I’m used to it, I guess.”

The rain seems to get louder. You only seem to get more worried. Rin wants to tell you to stop, he was about to, but then you turned your cross legged figure fully towards him. Your knee touches his torso and Rin suddenly finds himself drawn to your everything.

“And you are content with that?” You murmur.

Rin can only but nod, watching as a droplet that had made its way onto your cheek travels down your neck.

Your lips twitch, to stifle a laugh or a cry — Rin cannot tell. You sigh, wiping at your face, then, bunching your hands together. You gaze up at him through long eyelashes, choosing to laugh, but it comes out cruel — almost bitter.

“This… thing inside of me — it has become so loud I do not know if it is something entirely else or a piece of me I’ve let take those hits. It’s… disarming.”

He stares at you for a moment, swallowing your statement whole. The taste is sombre and sweet, innocent and yet wise all at once. It is all too familiar.

“Let it come, then.” Rin whispers, “It’s only a matter of time ‘till it leaves.”

The wilted sakura tree planted near Lawson shakes from a gust of wind that appears, the last of its petals meeting the dull green of the grass and the pavement. You turn to watch, and Rin’s eyes never leave your face. When you turn, a mischievous, juvenile smile rests on your lips.

“Hm, Itoshi-san, you sound a lot like my grandfather, you know?”

Rin stands up at the comparison, feeling light headed from your laughter. He puts his hoodie up and begins to walk away — leaving his umbrella.

“Itoshi-san! Itoshi-san!” You yell after him. Rin’s heart shakes.

A small hand suddenly wraps itself around his wrist. He doesn’t turn, but you appear in front of him, with his opened umbrella he left behind. Rin suddenly feels the scalding want to touch you, but he knows he should not.

“Please don’t be mad, I—”

He is out of breath as he asks you, “Would you… like to see a movie with me? Next Wednesday evening?”

You still, like a stray dog that just has been lent some food. Hesitantly, your hands grip onto his umbrella, holding it up high to fit his long frame, and yours.

Your voice is unbelievably small as you say, “The middle of the week?”

Rin blinks, slightly furrowing his eyebrows.

“You don’t work Wednesdays… do you?”

It sounds more like an accusation rather than a question, he half-realises. He notices you are standing on your toes to accommodate him under his own damn umbrella, so he grabs it from you and fits the two of you.

The rain is louder from where you both stand. The sun begins to shine through the clouds.

“Yeah.” you nod, “I— I don’t.”

“So…?”

You look down at your feet. Rin narrowly tries to take a peek but you start to look up at him so he switches. You smile, teeth showing and cheeks delicately enhancing your facial features. Rin pinches his thigh.

“I would love to go see a movie with you, Itoshi-san.”

Rin bites down a smile to hide his enthusiasm. Women like that, don’t they? You continue to smile at him, reaching for his jacket pocket, which takes him aback.

“What—What are you—….!”

You pout, your hand now in his pocket, gripping onto his phone.

“You will need my number to contact me, will you not?”

Rin looks down. He feels the warmth of your hand in his pocket and he stills. He tries to comprehend the situation, and, as soon as he does, he simply nods.

“Yes—,” he stammers, robotic with his delivery, “Yes. I… I will need that.”

You only but grin. And, somehow, Rin has acquired your phone number, and you are standing so close to him. It ends too soon. You give his phone back to him, and he thinks he will never buy a newer one after this.

“See you, Itoshi-san,” you murmur the familiar farewell, letting him indulge in one more of your smiles, before you run off into the Lawson.

Rin stands, staring at the building and the small door you ran inside from. He puts his hand in the pocket your hand was in just moments ago, and clenches the fabric as he makes his way back to his hotel.

.

.

.

The cinema he chose was a quaint one where he would hopefully go inconspicuous to any of the staff and movie-goers. Rin does not want to bring you into his life like this — but the older he has gotten, the more selfish he has become. His mother has told him it is good that he is starting to express his wants — that it’d come late but at long last it had finally arrived. He’d only smiled and continued to press her feet.

It is 6:24pm when you come out of your apartment and approach the rented car Rin had purchased for this occasion. He’d try to envision what you’d be wearing for the days leading up — making himself clammy at the most execrable moments — but none of his ideas could have possibly lived up to the real thing.

You don a simple dress and a coat. Rin has never seen your legs before — at least not without some sort of cargo pants or jeans. He positions himself in the driver’s seat, wiping the sweat of his hands onto his pants. He forgets to walk out and open the passenger door for you — he’d planned to do it in his head. But he’s lost all sense of prior wants.

You smile as you look open the door of the vehicle with tinted windows. Rin swallows spit down his throat.

“You—,” he starts, his grip tightening around the steering wheel, “You look—”

You seem to note his predicament, and beat him to it with a cheshire grin.

“You look very handsome as well, Itoshi-san.”

Rin’s heart pounds. He nods at your statement, not being able to fully express his emotions. You only but smile, putting your hands in your lap.

Talking with you on the ride to the cinema doesn’t feel like a chore. You never continue the conversation yourself, letting him lead the way. It feels nice — to know that somebody doesn’t want to hear his opinion just for the sake of filling in the silence. 

Rin doesn’t quite know when this started. 

You reach it in ample time. The cinema is quite old and Western in that it makes patrons wait in a line to purchase their tickets manually. Rin doesn’t mind it, not when you are beside him. He idly eyes the horror movies that are running, and is pleasantly surprised to find that The Silence of the Lambs is rerunning. It’s with the season, considering it is early October. He scratches at his wrist, ridding his mind of watching such a film with you.

“Have you found something you wanna watch, Itoshi-san?”

Your voice disarms him. His pupils widen and his eyebrows raise. He looks down at you and shakes his head, pressing his lips tightly. You furrow your brow.

“You sure? I’m fine with anything, really.”

Rin stares at your encouraging smile. Have you been watching him? Observing him in the same way he’d been over you? The thought makes him feel light. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Ah, is— that, okay?” He gestures his eyes to the horror movie’s poster. Yours follow, and they seem to light up at the idea.

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

A sudden wave of relief washes over him. He has not scared you off, yet.

“I never thought you’d be into watching horror, Itoshi-san. I picked you more for a silent movie type.”

Rin pales.

.

.

The movie comes and goes. Rin had forgotten to pay you attention midway, but when he turned to his left during the screening and found you just as engrossed, your hand wrapped around his bicep — a gesture you made seem just as natural as waking up in the morning — he could not put a name to the feeling he felt.

After the movie was over, you reached for his hand and held it. He let you.

You told him you felt the urge to drink some beer and put your feet in sand, so he drove the two of you to Kamakura Yuigahama with a can of 12.

It is 10:30pm, and he is seated on a beachside watching as the waves crash to the shore, beside you. You lean your head against his arm.

“Do you ever miss Japan?” You whisper to him, drawing nonsensical lines into the sand as he plays with the hem of your coat, “You know, when you leave.”

This feels nice. Rin is starting to like this.

“No. Not as much as I had expected.” He answers outright and truthfully.

“Don’t you miss the food? Your mother? Father?”

“Ah, maybe. I call my mother most days, though. So I don’t miss much else.”

“Hm.”

He feels you still. He stops teasing the fabric of your coat, and turns his lead to look down at you. His brows etch into question.

“Why are you asking?”

You smile a tiny one, clutching onto his arm a little tighter.

“I… want to leave someday too.” You murmur into your beer can, ending your sentence short.

The lack of elaboration takes Rin by surprise. He’d never taken you to be the type to run — but, then again, you were the most exciting and spontaneous creature in his life, as of late.

“Where’d you go?”

You turn to him, slightly lifting your lips off from the can, smiling. Rin feels his hands grow hot.

“New Zealand.” 

Rin grins slightly at the speed of your answer, “You had that ready.”

You giggle, and Rin can feel the hotness of your cheeks against his bicep as you press your face close to his body. The telltale of the drunken daze in your eyes is enough to elicit a fire in the pit of Rin’s stomach. It’s also enough for him to crack open another can.

“I want to study there.” You murmur after a little bit of quiet, stretching your legs out.

“You’ll like it there. They have nice lakes everywhere.”

“You’ve been there?”

“It’s where I land on my connecting flight sometimes.”

Rin observes the way your eyes widen. His palms grow sweaty at the way you grin at his admission.

“Where else have you been?”

So Rin tells you everything. He tells you about his brief episode at Blue Lock. Tells you of his brother, how he’s recently rekindled their relationship. Informs you of how his mother, though well intentioned, scares him sometimes with conversations revolving around his future. He tells you that he’d lied to you the other day — that sometimes when it really matters, small things like that can frighten him. You tell him it is okay, that you lie sometimes when you’re afraid as well. Rin tells you of all the grody press conferences he’s been to, and how he’s never felt comfortable under the lens of cameras when he knows they’re on him. He describes the beaches in California with vivid descriptions that spill out of him with such ease that he starts second guessing himself. He tells you of the views from the hotel rooms he’s stayed in from Paris, Buenos Aires and Rio. Rin finds it a bit uncanny how easily he can open himself up to someone he’s met months ago, and cannot do the same for people he has known for years. Your quiet reactions and laughs you’d let out every now and then when he explains his rigid interactions and downright brutal past with his team members draw the fire in his chest to only implode and rise to the surface.

“Ahh, that sounds so cool… I wish I could leave right now.” You whine to him like a small child, and Rin feels the urge to hold you even closer to him.

“What about your parents? They’d let you leave?” He murmurs.

At this, you only giggle. Rin’s brows furrow.

“Hah, yeah. They wouldn’t care, honestly.”

Rin stills at your admission. He slightly tilts his head downwards to try and meet your eyes. “That… upsets you.”

He tries to word it as a question, but it comes off more like a statement.

You smile, but it does not reach your eyes. It looks like the kind of smile one would give when they reached a point of clarity they’d been searching for, for a long time. It is all too obvious to Rin.

“No, I like it that way,” you start, “They know that I don’t like it when people care too much about me. I don’t trust myself half the time… makes me feel too … ahh… what’s the word? Dependable — when others put all their faith in me. Don’t know what I’d do with all of it.”

You still after your long rambling. It did not feel that way to Rin, but it seems that it felt that way for you. He wanted you to open up more. But by the way you seemed to have shrunk around his arms makes Rin believe you are not ready. Under any other circumstances, in any other day — he would have probably given up by now. And yet, you keep making him want more. He does not know what to do with himself either.

“Ahhh how much have I had? Yuki-san is going to kill me tomorrow.” You giggle, staring accusingly at your beer can. Rin’s lips tremble.

“You can blame me.”

You gaze up at him with a cheshire-like expression. It holds childish mischief. It makes Rin smile at you naturally.

The moment is gone far too soon.

“It’s okay. I’m thinking of putting in my two weeks’ notice, anyway.”

Rin freezes. He thinks you can sense the sudden shift in his mood because you suddenly look his way.

His voice is soft when he asks, “You’re quitting?”

You rub your arm and huff through your nostrils. “Ah, yes. I’ve saved enough and the semester is almost over. I had to eventually find a job in my field.”

Rin knew this had to end eventually. It was why he did not want to get involved with anyone when he had returned home. Only, with you, he had naively assumed that he’d end this on his own terms — that he would be the bearer of all of the vile insults you might have unleashed upon him. He should have known better when he first met you that you could not afford to lose.

“Oh.”

He looks down at his lap, a slight timber in his voice.

“Right. Okay.”

You clutch onto his arm, not knowing how it sends chills up his spine and down his throat.

“Don’t miss me too much,” you tease him.

Rin can only smile.

.

.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet. You fell asleep, unaware of Rin’s internal conflict. He did not want to say goodbye just yet. All his life Rin did not particularly have a problem with shutting people out of his life. If anything, it came naturally to him. It was the only thing he knew as far as it came to personal relations. Hurt them before they can hurt you. Yet unlike his past sentiments, you were not football — you were unlike anything or anyone he has met before. You came into his life as soft as the rain, and still did not leave him dry despite the passing months. It was refreshing, but he does not deserve any of it when he does not even know where to put himself yet.

You wake up as he pulls into your lot under a street lamp over a visitor parking area. You rub your eyes, yawning and stretching your limbs. Rin can only look at you with haggard breath. He rubs his hands on his pants, gets out first, and opens the door, lending you his hand to hold which you accept.

Walking women to their door can only mean one thing. Rin is highly aware of the way you cling to him. The fire in his loins and his desire for you grow tenfold with each step. When you lean against your door, clinging to him with innocent glee and wrap your arms around his neck, Rin furrows his eyebrows. You place a tender hand on his cheek, pouting at his expression, and his lips tremble as you lean closer.

“Itoshi-san,” you whisper softly, beautifully, seductively. Rin has never wanted anything more in his life.

But he cannot. Not when he knows he will have to leave in the morning. Not when he knows he will carry old memories of you and him. Not when he knows he will never be able to enter a Lawson again without the thought of you occurring in his mind.

He lays a firm hand on your waist, raises himself, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. He softly pets your cheek as you stare up at him with such naivety and confusion it pains him.

“I will… see you,” he murmurs, “soon.”

You look down, bashful. Rin swallows at the sight. He wants to hold you — he wants to tell you that — but he can’t.

“Right— right,” you whisper. You look up at him after collecting yourself and nod, weakly smiling. “See you— see you.”

Rin nods. With bated breath, he lets go of you. With one final glance, he walks towards his car.

He sits back in the driver’s seat, watching from inside as the door to your apartment closes shut. He touches his lips with his index and middle finger, releases a shaky sigh, and slumps against the steering wheel.

What will he do now?

.

.

.

Rin does not even tell you he is leaving in person. He had planned to, but the sudden wave of nausea that had hit him made him unable to walk towards something he knew he would never see again.

He tried going to sleep a couple of days after the small date he had with you — but found himself utterly incapable of doing so. He watched nearly four cult classics back to back, and, still, none of them managed to lull him to bed.

It was nearing 3:30am when Rin messaged you.

(03:21) >> I’m leaving next week.

You don’t answer right away. You respond the next morning — which was to be expected. Rin had only slept until 6am and was anxiously awaiting your reply.

(09:30) >> Oh.

(09:32) >> Well, we can still message, right?

He remembers staring at your hopeful messages with a grim expression.

(09:36) >> We shouldn’t

(09:36) >> I can’t.

You take a while to respond.

(09:42) >> Oh. Okay

(09:42) >> Was it something I did?

(09:43) >> Sorry for going somewhere so public. It was selfish of me

Rin sits himself down on his head, rubbing his forehead. He’s an asshole. He wants to tell you no. He wants to tell you that he did not care about the fact his name was buzzing on every Japanese tabloid due to being seen with you. He doesn’t care about any of that — he only cares about you.

But only one of those things does he type.

(09:46) >> No

(09:46) >> It wasn’t your fault

Your following reply causes a dull ache in his heart.

(09:47) >> Ah. Okay

(09:47) >> Have a nice trip, Itoshi-san

And because you are so much like him — like everything Rin has ever wanted — you don’t ask him if he can stay for you. You do not tell him those three familiar words of meeting again — because deep down you already know, you never will.  

.

.

.

Rin is by himself once more. He’s stopped buying energy drinks.

He lied again, about leaving the following week. He did not know how to hurt you properly. It felt wrong. He feels sick. Rin did not know how to treat you the way he has been treating everyone else in his life? How did he treat everyone before you?

Rin arrives at his mother’s home late in the evening, nearly midnight, unannounced and bare.

His mother opens the door, staring at him, her child, like a stranger. She clutches onto the door with confusion, her brows furrowed just the same.

“Rin-chan?”

Rin falls into her arms, resting his head in the crook of her neck. He lets out a shaky breath he did not realise he was holding. His mother stills around him, and Rin half-sensed his father approach the genkan as his mother shares a hushed dialogue, still unmoving.

Rin shuts his eyes.

“Don’t you miss the food? Your mother? Father?”

He has. He has. He has. He has. He has. He has.

A second passes, and he feels the familiar softness of tender, now older hands rub up and down his back. Rin only tightens harder, not wanting to fall anymore than he already had.

“It’s okay,” his mother softly whispers a lullaby he had missed dearly, “It will be okay.”

.

.

Steamed rice, miso soup, yakizakana and umeboshi: Rin had a full brunch he did not realise he missed until he woke up the next day in his childhood bedroom with the familiar scent greeting him. He has been putting off visiting properly for a while. When his mother brought him into his room, untouched and the same way he left it when he left nearly a decade ago — never looking back, the wave of nostalgia and loneliness that crashed over him surrendered him vulnerable and a shell of his former self. He laid on his futon, a tad smaller than his frame, and slept for hours.

He sits at the kotatsu, and he watches the wind chimes blow from the open engawa — one of his few favourite hobbies to do with his mother.

As she brings a pot of warm green tea to pour into his cup, and as Rin raises it towards her so she does need to bend her back, she smiles at him with mischief.

“She was quite pretty,” Rin nearly chokes, but his mother only laughs. “When will you bring her over?”

Taking the now filled cup of green tea towards himself, Rin looks away. He can feel his ears warm from the embarrassment.

“Mother…”

“Alright, alright, I will stop.” She giggles, heading back to the kitchen.

Rin had half the idea that it would end up like this. You, ending up in the tabloids because of him and his mothers finding out about it like this. He hadn’t seen any of it firsthand — the anxiety became too much — but his manager had assured him your identity still remained a mystery to the general public. It was the only reason Rin was able to get out of bed. He wouldn’t have known what he would have done had your life been completely altered and torn into pieces by the media who knows nothing about you — of your gentle disposition and caring nature.

Rin sighs, taking a sip of his green tea as his mother washes dishes ten feet away from him.

Despite his better judgement, he still misses you. If he tries hard enough, he can almost hear you ask him if he does.

.

.

After nearly a week of moping in his own sorrow on the wooden floor of the engawa, staring at the bush warblers inhabiting the apple tree he’d planted when he was seven years old with his father — Rin had not expected any new guests to arrive.

That is when the familiar voice which had caused him great suffering for a portion of his adolescence had appeared.

“Why the hell are you here?”

Rin turns around, and sees his brother. His eyes soften. “Nii-san.”

Sae replies to his wobbly greeting with a scoff. He approaches Rin, carrying a large plastic bag of food, no doubt. His mother had told him that whenever Sae came, she would prepare premade meals for him — and that he should begin to do the same to keep his health well. Rin had only but brushed it off, not believing his mother. He should have known better than to doubt her.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Sae asks again, sitting next to Rin.

“Ah,” Rin avoids his gaze, looking down at his lap,“Complication.”

Sae sighs. “Avoiding your problems again, you idiot?”

Rin does not respond, because he knows that is what he is exactly doing — he does not want to admit it out loud. His older brother understands this, of course. Sae has always understood him — it had taken Rin nearly a decade to realise this — and nothing could possibly slip by him.

“You’re a greater asshole than I thought.” Sae’s insult does not hurt Rin as much — but his next retort certainly adds salt to the injury.

“I don’t care about this girl, but you have some balls for coming here thinking it’d fix anything.”

Rin looks towards his brother with enlarged pupils. Sae rolls his eyes at his expression. He’d seen the news — it was probably hard not to when his surname was involved.

“I… don’t want to hurt her.” Rin admits.

Sae brings his fist to his head, causing Rin to close his eyes to await the blow. Yet it never comes. A light knock is the only thing felt, he opens them again.

“So don’t, dumbass.” Sae mocks him.

Rin stares at his brother in awe. Sae had carried himself far more easily than Rin could ever amount to. They were fundamentally different in many ways, and, despite this, Rin could not help but think that he was right.

“Thank you, nii-san.”

Sae stares at Rin like a wet sock, and Rin can’t help but laugh. He has missed this. He has missed home. He can finally admit this with peace.

.

.

.

It is a Thursday afternoon in late November, and it is the first snow of the season.

Light flurries graze the ground, the young and elderly both seem to buzz with some sort of newfound strength, and Rin Itoshi has been following you for the past twenty one minutes (give or take) after you had gotten off your bus to pick up a coffee from Doutor. Like some sort of stray cat. You wanted him to suffer for a while, though, so you maintained ignorance and went about your stroll.

You find yourself in a public park that is utterly abandoned (in the sense that no one is around). You find an empty beach, take a sip of your warm latte, close your eyes, and sigh when you can still feel him around. Why he has not yet made himself known, is a mystery. If it were anyone else you would have pretended to never notice them.

But it was him, and he was trying.

“You know — I have never understood the concept of stalkers. How do such individuals with so much time on their hands function in society? They must be some sort of anomaly, I figured.”

You turn to him, where he stands like a stray cat behind a lamp as though that possibly serve as a hiding place for this six foot seven tall man.

“But you, I did not expect that of all people.”

Rin turns his gaze downwards. It would make you laugh until your stomach hurts, but you cannot afford to be anything but serious at the moment. You are mad at him.

“Itoshi-san.” You call for him.

He walks towards where you sit with sincere humility, a gift bag and bouquet in hand which you eye curiously.

“I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms over your chest, and your left leg over your right. You set your coffee down on the bench — staring a hole in Rin’s convoluted face.

“Why have you been following me?”

“You… knew?”

“Mhm,” you nod, and you can see the pink that rises to his cheek “Since I left the store. Am I that unapproachable?”

“No. It’s me.”

You laugh at his comment, you cannot help it. Rin flinches a little, you notice, and you realise you do not like to torment him — despite him relishing in tormenting you.

“Don’t worry. We are in a pretty secluded park. The most interesting thing that happens here is when deers come out at dawn.”

“No.” Rin blurts almost right after your monologue, taking you for surprise. “I mean — that’s not what I care about. The press.”

“Oh,” 

He presents the bouquet of tulips to you with bashful, childlike anxiety. His brows are furrowed and he looked like he was in pain. A heat blooms in your chest.

“For you,” he murmurs.

You crane an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“You’re twenty-three, aren’t you?”

You shake your head and look at him, confused,“Yes. Have been for nearly a month, Itoshi-san.”

Rin looks down once more, but he continues to hold out the gift bag and bouquet for you. He is too cute if this is how he apologises.

You take them from him, and he looks back up at you with light in his eyes. The same light you saw on the beach, and you cannot help but want to be close to him.

“Would… you like to sit?” You pat the space next to you, and Rin responds by taking it.

The same quietness that had engulfed you both at the beach returns, bringing a sense of coldness with it. You knew this relation was never sustainable, but a selfish, injudicious part of you hoped Rin would follow after you. You did not want him to drop everything, because that would have scared you, but you did not expect him to cut you out as though you never existed. 

“Has the… news been bothering you?”

Rin’s question breaks you out of your self-loathing. You uncross your arms and legs, and bunch your hands together in your lap.

“Ah, no. I’m not online much anyways. Though my friends were pissed that I did not tell them about you.”

Rin huffs, which, to you, counts as a laugh.  

“I… enjoy talking to you,” he starts, “Do you enjoy talking to me?”

The statement and question are so childish and fatuous you almost laugh. 

“Mmm,” you stretch out the sound, gazing up to fake your speculation. When you see Rin clench his jaw, you stop and smile at him.

“Yes. I do.”

“You shouldn’t.” He says,  “You shouldn’t enjoy talking to me. I am not a… nice person.”

You furrow your eyebrows. His mood swings were phenomenal.

“In what sense? That you stalk girls on a Thursday afternoon?”

“I’ve… I’ve never done that before. Never done this before.”

The quiet confession has deemed you quiet and unknowing. Rin looks at you as though you know the answer to his problem. You have an inkling.

“You are not sure.” You state the assumption more as a fact, but that elicits a nod from him.

“Yes.”

You look close into his eyes. Rin Itoshi is nothing but a foolish man, you register right then and there. He has never but been a man with you. 

“Do you want it bad enough?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Then you will do it. Won’t you?” You whisper to him softly,  “No matter what I say you are going to.”

“I… can’t give you everything. Not yet.”

You scoff at this. “I am not a child, Itoshi-san. Neither are you.”

Rin is rendered silent. You sigh to yourself, assuming you have overdone it. Placing the bouquet gently into the bag, you hold the gift bag and your cup of coffee in your hands and stand in front of him. Rin gazes silently up at you.

“Give me a call when you are ready.” You offer a gentle smile, hoping it would make up for your scolding, “I have to go, have a workshop in an hour.”

“Is that why you’re like that?” He whispers, standing up. You tilt your head, keeping still. 

“Like what?”

“So pretty.”

You bite your lip, your heart skipping beat at the casual way he says his compliment. It is dangerous, the hold he has on you with just a few words.

“Have you gotten taller?” You ask, bringing a hand to his cheek. He slightly tilts down to accommodate your shorter frame, pressing his face closer into your palm. The beating grows louder — you can hear it in your ears.

“I don’t know,” He murmurs quietly, shutting his eyes.

“We can be friends. Would that be okay?” You whisper softly, pausing your ministrations.

He puts a large hand over yours — the one still on his face that was caressing his cheek and hair.

“I have never been good at friends.”

Rin’s response takes you aback, and you feel warm despite having finished your coffee. You bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile. Your attempts are deemed futile when Rin presses his lips against the palm of your hand, causing yours to tremble.

“You never once called. You never said goodbye. That really hurt me, you know?”

You don’t realise your voice is shaky until it comes out. Rin frowns which only makes you more nervous. You have not wanted anything for yourself — you have managed to live all alone. Now that he has come, you do not think you can go back to that. The snowflakes continue to fall, surrounding you both in a serene atmosphere. The park is quiet and peaceful, providing a space for you to connect on a deeper level. Rin takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, placing a hand on your face. It is large and rougher than yours, with calluses you’ve touched and wondered about where he has gotten them from. You want to find out the origin of each one, everyday.

“I want you to call me,” you state and he nods.

Taking your hand away, you place a quick kiss on his fingers as he moves his. 

“See you, Rin-san,” you bid him the familiar farewell, and leave him in the park alone.

Rin stares at you as you leave. You feel his eyes on you until you cannot anymore. 

He gazes down at his hands, rough from the years, and yet you treat them with a type of softness they have never been subjected to before. Despite his years, Rin really does not know anything.

All he knows is you, and that’s all that Rin cares about for now. 

[seelestia]

◇ A Blessed Imperfection ◇

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

LIA'S NOTE: aaaaa, thank you sm for submitting and writing this masterpiece, ☆ starlight anon! i'm so sorry that i wasn't able to post this asap but now, i'm sobbing as i read this. (/pos) do give this a read if you have the time and show ☆ starlight anon (@/hermosacolibri) some support for their godly writing 💐 this work does not belong to me, all credits go to ☆ starlight anon!

+ tagging @zhongrin — ehe! rin jie, you gotta take a look at this <3

CW: fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth (in zhongli's part), reader has a vision (geo for zhongli and electro for ayato).

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

SYNOPSIS: Many consider your disability as a burden, but he finds a way to make it a blessing in disguise. What makes us flawed is what makes us unique, and that is what he considers the most beautiful thing about you—an imperfection he dearly adores. Nevertheless, he knows of your lingering sorrows and thus seeks a way to support you in the best way he could.

CHARACTERS: Zhongli, Kamisato Ayato

NOTE: I have decided to just submit the excerpts for these two and dedicated them to Rin and you respectively lol. I kept getting ideas and suddenly there were more characters to write, which made the entry too long. If you or the others wish to read more, I have an account on Quotev (a writing platform) that compiled all these sorts of literary works. People can also request there. I will provide the link if anyone is interested once I get everything cleaned up :)

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ZHONGLI is a god whom has lived for eons, and has yet to begin his life at the same time. After his six millennia of existence, he has been known by many names and bestowed countless titles. Some are hearsay, and some are legitimate—all are bonded through his contracts. As the Prime Adeptus, he is the warrior god named Morax who subdued the rage of oceans and monsters by rain of spears. To all of Liyue, he is the mighty Rex Lapis whom stood as the overseer of contracts, history, and commerce. By the word of Celestia, he is the Geo Archon whom holds dominion over the Gnosis; and in the eyes of Teyvat, that made him god amongst gods even if he felt otherwise under the divine gaze.

Alas, when he finally stepped down from the lonely throne, his words to the Traveler omitted a particular truth from him—

—that is, his reason of retirement.

Zhongli spoke of erosion, and even the merchant whom made him realize that his job was done.

However, he did not speak of you.

Of course, with two Harbingers present, his secrecy is understandably sound judgment. Nevertheless, even when he attained privacy to speak personally, he finds it hard to disclose about you. Perhaps, it is a draconic instinct to hoard and protect what he has claimed to be his.

The only other individual just as protective over any knowledge of your existence is Ningguang.

After all, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing is also known as your dear older sister.

Ningguang raised you since the beginning, even if she had been a mere child herself. Your parents are never spoken, and you never asked. Even when you find yourself in comparison to other children with mothers and fathers, your older sister was always all you needed and wanted. Tirelessly, she carried you on her back while her arms were occupied by a basket of wares to be sold. Barefoot, she journeyed from the sands of Yaoguang Shoal to the main capital of Liyue Harbor to make ends meet. Every weekend, you will both scavenge anything that can be sold.

The first gift she ever bought you was an intricate erhu of the best craftsmanship.

It had been your smiles that told her everything will be worth the effort. It had been your songs that soothed the ache of muscles and the weariness of mind. It had been your words that invigorated her ambition to become something more.

“I love you, jiejie!”

“…I love you too, meimei.”

Nothing would stop Ningguang from rising to the top and giving you the life you deserve.

Time is cruel to mortals and always issues a test of faith to see them thrive. In one such incident, it has been proven that you and Ningguang are true sisters in every sense of the word. Her determination can only be rivalled by yours, and the resolve which shine like stars in your eyes is unconquerable.

Your older sister had once fallen to sickness. She refused to tell you where she kept the money, not wanting to waste it to buy medicine. You furiously argued with her about it but nothing could change her mind. Thus, at the dark of night, you treaded the path towards Jueyun Karst. The entire map of Liyue has been engraved in your mind since you could walk. Even when nothing but black greets your blank eyes, it would have been child’s play to travel into the abode of adepti.

That is, of course, if not for the adepti’s indignant anger at your trespassing.

Fortunately, you stole a Sigil of Permission.

“My sister is ill,” you told them, “and I require your aid to concoct a medicine.”

You will never know that what eventually convinced them is how gold illuminated your form. It channels your soul, and then solidifies into a circlet. At its center, a Geo Vision proudly sparkled.

Mountain Shaper thus led you to collect herbs that you would need. Moon Carver carried you on his back while Cloud Retainer flew towards Yaoguang Shoal with Ganyu on hers to check on your sister. In the distance, the Conqueror of Demons obliterated all other threats that may come your way.

By morning, Ningguang was on a road to recovery and you thanked the adepti by playing your erhu for them every day.

Amongst these private performances, you ended up in Guili Plains alone.

A melody has been haunting your dreams. It is very melancholic yet profoundly moving, like a promise between lovers. The composition began to write itself in the abyssal void of your sight. Then, it played smoothly by your delicate hands on the strings. Your voice echoed across the plains, bequeathing a sense of serenity that mortals rarely have talent to supply.

Once again, the Lord of Geo has been enchanted as he listened to your lullaby.

“Milord, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Your inquiry was met with silence, but you can still feel his piercing eyes on you. Thankfully, you are patient as you are resilient.

The sound of footsteps made your ears perk up. You could not stop yourself from tilting your head to the direction of its origin. The omnipotence of adeptal energy dominated the air, making you dazed for a few seconds. However, there was a charming scent that you recognize. It belongs to a wild glaze lily, one especially helped to bloom by music.

Morax paused before where you sat, staring into your curious gaze looking up at him. The blindness clouded them yet your earnest intrigue made them shimmer glamorously. Autumn ginkgo leaves rain upon you whom sat beneath the shade of its tree, and he whom loomed over your mortal form. He lifts the glaze lily in his hand to bless its petals with a chaste kiss. Then, he slowly presents it to you.

A steady hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, planting the flower as an ornament. Your sensitive skin felt the callouses that must be from a lifetime of battle and slaughter. Alas, your cheeks only flush brightly at their tender caress. His fingertips glide through your tresses very subtly, giving you agency to pull away from his touch.

Morax pulls a lock of hair towards his lips, giving it the same attention as he did the glaze lily.

Then, with a promising smile, he lets go—

—and then vanishes in a blink.

That encounter was the first of many secrets you kept from your older sister.

A week later, a gentleman named Zhongli introduces himself to you. You narrow your eyes in suspicion and confusion. His presence, the aura of Rex Lapis, is unmistakable to you. Nevertheless, you respond with quiet acceptance while listening to his pulse settle down in relief.

It was not your place to question an archon anyway, nor is it your responsibility.

Aside from music, you always held fascination for botany. After refusing your sister’s offer to live with her in the Jade Chamber, she built you an estate with a large garden and a quaint greenhouse. From here, you have invented a unique art known as Geo Crystalline Preservation. You use the flowers in your garden to crystallize them with your Vision, but retain their scent like a real flower. By this method, you manage to pluck wild glaze lilies and preserve their natural fragrance after cultivation.

Your first specimen was the glaze lily gifted by your archon, now a part of your circlet.

Suddenly, wild glaze lilies were being revived to its former vast numbers in your garden.

Your artform can be applied to anything too. It can become a stained glass decor, a clothing design, an unwilting bouquet, and even a way to preserve food ingredients. For this reason, your fresh business had immediately made connections with all sorts of exchange across Liyue Harbor. In turn, you have developed a very reliable information network that answers to nobody but yourself. Twice, a visit from Yelan made your heart swell with pride to know you have information that eludes her.

Zhongli was more of a consultant or an advisor who directs you to the most beneficial proposals. It can be most helpful whenever you felt lost in making critical decisions that require more tact. He even made it possible for you to create a strong alliance with the Feiyun Commerce Guild. A part of you is still uncertain if that was worth the hassle that the esteemed Young Master Xingqiu tends to bring to your doorstep.

By the words of Rex Lapis, the core foundation of contracts is fairness. Thus, you asked Zhongli what he wants in exchange for his hard work.

“I only wish for your company,” Zhongli replied, “and—if you would allow it—a chance to court you.”

A gentle kiss lands upon your forehead. It brought back flashes of your first meeting under the ginkgo tree, when he was a god rather than a mortal. You used names to keep them separate, yet this moment has proven that Zhongli is Rex Lapis and Morax.

A cor lapis by any other name would nonetheless be as resplendent.

Then, two years later, he proposed and you said yes.

That resulted to an interesting private discussion between Zhongli and Ningguang. Neither of them disclosed any details other than the fact your sister gave her sincere blessings for the marriage. The wedding was reserved yet was also nothing short of extravagant. The collaboration of your sister and husband had you expecting nothing less, if you were being honest.

Another year later, the final Rite of Descension turns into a Rite of Parting.

You knew of Zhongli’s plan. He had to confide the details to you, excluding the Tsaritsa’s contract. It was the only way to persuade you into staying in Wangshu Inn for a few weeks, to make sure you do not get caught in the crossfire. He promises his intervention if all goes awry, if it endangers your sister as well as the rest of Liyue Harbor.

Then, it was all over.

Zhongli came home to kiss you with fervor you have never felt from him since your wedding night.

Later, the geo lines on his arms pulse with luminous glow in your marital bedroom. It reflected upon his amber eyes, pupils alternating between slits and dilation as his instincts purred. He closed his eyes with an inaudible sigh before projecting himself into your dreamscape.

As a blind person, you have an odd way of dreaming.

You only hear amidst the abyss and a composition always reverberates. When visited by him, everything gets reconstructed to a meadow of glaze lilies. At its heart is a Statue of the Seven. He had learnt that the imagery of stars twinkling above your heads is a sign that his own dreamscape had begun to merge with yours. A golden aurora borealis emanated pure geo energy, representing elemental resonance.

Always, the Geo Archon finds himself replacing his own self on the statue when he visits. He opens his eyes to the perspective of the statue. The illusionary Memory of Dust remains afloat beside him with a few geo crystalflies. He shall always find you fast asleep, wearing a hanfu composed of his colors. At times, your head is only resting on the armrest or his lap; and other times you are already in his arms.

Then, he cradles you closely while he listens to the tunes you dream. He has grown familiar with most of them through your erhu. A few would puzzle him, and he would then realize they are your unfinished compositions.

There was also one other reason he strictly kept you far from the events in the harbor.

You are with child.

Zhongli recalls the time you discussed the concept of illumination with him. It is the method of possibly enlightening a mortal to become an adeptus. The topic of you becoming immortal was only broached once and never again. Your own perspective in the matter was irrelevant, mostly because you were incompatible for the procedure. Although far from being an invalid, your constitution is far from ideal for such arduous illumination.

The Lord of Geo was overjoyed when you relayed the news of your pregnancy the first time. Alas, when the celebratory mood had gone, the slap of reality finally registered.

This will be a difficult ordeal for you, carrying a child that is half-adeptus.

Yanfei was conceived and born by a human mother, delivered through a complicated pregnancy. The health concerns never seemed to end, and her mother’s miraculous survival was only thanks to her tenacity according to her father. Even then, she is a mortal woman in perfectly good health.

If you were not capable of undergoing illumination, can you even survive this pregnancy?

No matter the answer though, Zhongli knows you are determined to persevere. For the sake of the life within your womb, you will endure all the hardships that will be thrown your way.

That fact is why he fell in love with you.

Perhaps, there was one thing he could do to help you even if it was not a full illumination.

As he once did for Azhdaha, the Lord of Geo can bless you the gift of sight.

You can see your child when they are born.

Zhongli lifts his head from where it rested on your crown. He tilts your chin up to gaze upon your visage and feel your breath against his skin. His fingertips grazed your eyelids, and the golden light of his geo energy engulfs the dreamscape. As everything fades into white, he leans down so his lips meet yours…

…and then, you both awaken.

However, for the first time, the haunting darkness that usually welcomed you has been replaced with color.

You saw a man hovering over you, lips millimeters apart from yours. Dark brown hair is embellished with honey gold, long strands gliding over his toned shoulders. Sharp amber eyes glared into yours, an unreadable sheen making them glow. Your hand reaches up to touch his pale cheek, thumb tracing the red outlining his gaze.

You realize. This is your husband.

“Zhongli…!” You gasped, tears in your eyes.

He smiles like a breathtaking work of art, a godly beauty that blessed you to be his wife.

“Hello, tian xin.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him into an ecstatic embrace and blissful kiss. He obliges, taking all you have and giving you all that is his.

Someday, you will no longer stay by his side.

Nevertheless, the proof of your existence will live through your child—and so will the love, the miracle that conceived them, which you shared with him. As such, you will continue to shine like gold in his memories forevermore.

This is not a mere contract, but a solemn promise that even Celestia can never break—

“My memories of you are treasures not even erosion can steal away.”

•~•~•

KAMISATO AYATO is a man whose heart seeks an equally capable partner. The idea of one day having to choose another half is something to consider as part of his duty. After all, the head of a noble clan is responsible for ensuring that its bloodline continues to prosper. To sire an heir, he must someday select a bride. His choice will lead to the rise of a matriarch within the Kamisato Clan. It must be a woman with the caliber to lead as the gentle hand of the Yashiro Commission to his iron fist. A fierce yet kind soul is necessary to command the Shuumatsuban in his place should the need ever arise. Furthermore, if he must eventually settle for a loveless marriage, his desire is to at least gain a lifelong friend. They must have the same depth of loyalty to his family, and the same steadfast resolve to uphold their principles.

Otherwise, he is very certain any other whom wishes to stand by his side will only break. With how he acts and carries himself, the people of Inazuma are more inclined to agree. Indeed, a wife less than up to par would be nothing short of disappointing.

Be that as it may, the Yashiro Commissioner can be a complicated man to love.

Ayato is a man who lives his life wearing a thousand masks, with little to no distinction between his true self and facades. At the early deaths of his parents, he was a young boy that had been forced into the lethal grind of political battles. To protect his little sister, he took up the blade to eliminate those who threaten them amidst the power struggle.

Just like that, his heart became a closely guarded vault privy to a trusted few.

Loving Ayato is likened to water, the same element he wields as weapon and shield. In calm days, he is transparent and clear to see. In chaotic nights, his own motives are harder to understand. There are times he can be as volatile as rapids, and others be as nurturing as a cool spring.

The most dangerous thing about loving Ayato is if you allow yourself to drown in him.

Alas, all of Inazuma is left dumbfounded when he abruptly announces his marriage to you.

The Yashiro Commissioner had gone missing for a week. A note with his penmanship claims he has a personal errand to run. Then, he returns to the estate—holding your hand while another clenches a scroll, sealed by the wax insignia of the Narukami Shrine and the Raiden Shogun. A glance at your respective hands reveal the glint of silver wedding bands, with camellia flower engravement filled by white jade.

Kamisato Ayato eloped with you.

“From here onwards,” Ayato declared, “[Name] shall be living in the Kamisato Estate as my wife. Please treat her with the same respect you do for me.”

The idea seems to intimidate you, a frown tugging your lips. Your husband, however, squeezed your hand in reassurance. Pacified, you end up snuggling your cheek onto his arm. The action is successful in grounding your senses, focusing on Ayato’s scent and body heat. He obliges this by gently pulling you closer, practically trapping your own arm to his side.

Ayaka hid a smile of amusement behind her fan, as her eyes softened in endearment.

“Of course, brother.” She replied.

Thoma nodded, beaming in welcome as you peeked at him and the young miss. Despite their slightest reservation upon this rushed turn of events, they trust Ayato.

Although, the Shirasagi Himegimi cannot help but feel you looked somewhat familiar.

You are a very peculiar woman, especially in a nation as conservative and traditional as Inazuma. In fact, some believe you seem more like an antithesis to your husband. Whereas he is always poised and very composed, there is always an untamed ferocity in you that refuses to comply to social norms. You can nevertheless dress as elegantly as any other noble aristocrat, speak as eloquently as any well-educated lady. If not for your infamous eccentricities, nobody would have doubted why Ayato chose you. It is quite renowned that you shamelessly stroll Inazuma’s main city in a commoner’s yukata—a messy bun for a hairstyle, and sometimes going barefoot. You despise social events and acted more elusive than your mysterious husband.

The servants were initially wary yet none of them can deny your positive influence. The household has never been so efficient and organized until you took on managing its affairs. Thoma was astonished to realize that he ended up with more free time under your authority. The meticulous way you stick to a form of schedule and your quick wit to adapt have enabled the Kamisato Estate to operate smoothly, with or without the siblings present. In fact, some unique tasks you assign to Thoma aided him into securing businesses in Ritou. As equal exchange for your patronage, you have flawlessly expanded the Shuumatsuban’s spy network.

Ayaka also found respite in her endeavors as face of the clan. She initially had a difficult time with being your mentor of sorts in the life of nobility. However, your creativity in problem solving and quick wit has been such help in balancing her own matters.

Thoma began to understand your ways when he has become in charge of all your meals. There is a set routine for every day of the week, and then a specific assortment of snacks with tea expected at certain hours. Each ingredient is meticulously picked and every dish is carefully prepared. If even one thing is out of place, you will notice with a single bite/sip and you would refuse to eat—which results to a very moody mistress for the rest of the estate.

It was only thanks to how well Ayato knew you that everyone else was able to keep up. He is aware of all factors to your behavior and how to aptly respond to them. His stern yet precise instructions left no room for mistakes if it meant taking care of you properly in his absence. It was as if he grew up with you due to the sheer amount of experience he has in how to deal with your odd patterns.

As months passed, Ayaka finally realized.

That is because her brother did grow up with you.

Ayato met you long ago when he was a mere lonely boy, burdened with the title of clan heir. He found you digging around the beach near his estate, an Electro Vision on your waist. A line of seashells were set on a flat rock beside you, all arranged by type as rows and by size as columns.

You glanced up at him. Your Vision flickers, making him tense—

—and then lightning struck the sands.

As a boy, Ayato watched in awe as the grains turned into glass. You manipulated the temperature of the element, heating the sand in quick seconds to create multiple pieces. He ended up getting closer, and it was enough to spook you. After you were finished, you hastily stood up and collected your things before sprinting away.

“Wait…!” Ayato exclaimed.

You did not listen.

The young master pouted, thinking he would never see you again. It was a shame since he found you so fascinating. He looked down and saw some strange hollow tubes in the shores, resembling coral.

That day, he went home a little despondent.

Ayato was pleasantly surprised to see you again the next day—same place, same hour. You are polishing the shells this time, and occasionally refining them to the shape you want. Small pots of paint surround you, and the Electro Vision is pulsing to be used at any given notice.

This time, you did not run when he got close.

“Fulgurite.”

He flinches as you suddenly spoke. Your eyes were focused on the glass tubes he picked up. They hung from the string of his obi now, which got odd looks from his parents a while ago.

“These…?”

You nodded, “They are fulgurites. You can use them to make jewelry. Want to see?”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Ayato figures out your schedule and how you like sticking to it, so he never misses out when to visit you. It was something you never minded as long as he remained consistent. The times when he did not get the memo, you got annoyed and told him harshly to stop showing up. At first, he felt hurt since he misunderstood. Thankfully, he was mature enough to clarify it with you. Since then, he promised his arrival only on particular days wherein he can assure his free time. At his words, you acted less bothered by his presence and worked on your craft.

The two of you grew up together in those constant stolen moments. He finds out you have a younger brother, and he tells you he has a younger sister. On weekends, you are not on the beach. That is the only time your brother is able to spend time with you instead of honing his swordsmanship.

In stormy days, he had to struggle pulling you into the estate. Every time, he braced himself for your ire but patiently coaxes you over it. The most effective method is to occupy your mind with something else, and let your hands be busy crafting. Once you are fixated, Ayato can be allowed into your safe space again and he is able to take care of you. Henceforth, rainy days are spent in his estate and that became the new norm for your daily routine. Ayato adapts into creating amendments for your unhealthy habits.

You still persistently argue that storms are perfect for making petrified lightning glass.

Nevertheless, you express gratitude for his sincere care and affection. No one has ever been so doting on you aside from your brother. In turn, Ayato felt touched that you treat him as one of the only two people you explicitly trust. You even adjust yourself to be considerate of his own needs, despite the clear discomfort it sometimes caused you.

When his parents died, you were his greatest pillar of support.

Ayato has always known to never underestimate you in any way. What made you different did not make you dumb. In fact, it is revealed in that dark period that you were more brilliant than your peers. It was only thanks to your guidance that he found direction how to proceed. It was due to your judgment that he knew who to trust, which ties needed to be severed for safety. Every critical decision was consulted by you, and he was awed when the results you predict come to fruition. When his demons made him lose sleep, you provided relief by playing with his hair.

When he finally triumphed in the succession, you gave him a precious gift.

You smiled. Of utmost sincerity, you smiled ever so sweetly and so warmly.

That is the day Ayato knew you were the one.

Unfortunately, he had taken too long to confess that to you. Too many years slipped past his fingers due to his obligations.

Then, the Vision Hunt Decree happened—

—and you went missing.

A young man named Kaedehara Kazuha barged into his estate, panicked and distressed. He called for Ayato, kneeling as he pleaded for help in finding his older sister—you. The wind has gone silent regarding your whereabouts, and he feared the worst due to the recent decree.

Of course, the Yashiro Commissioner wasted no time in utilizing his power to be of aid.

It was for naught.

Soon, he could not even protect your brother when the young man was branded as a wanted criminal.

Kazuha witnessed the love Ayato holds for you—a passion he deems worthy of his kin. He knew of the bond you shared with him, which is why he came to the man for help. Meeting the man personally, the winds crooned in approval—to which the ronin only smiled, a little resigned yet mostly relieved.

Someone else can take care of you now.

“Aneue spoke of you fondly.” He said, “If anyone can find her, it’s you.”

The younger male presents him a box.

“She called it a tassel chime,” Kazuha explained, “and referred to that piece as Rainmaker.”

It contains a small windchime in the size and design of a tassel, thus the name. A single clamshell ties the knot for the top noose. Camellias on rippling waters is carved onto the blue glass, painted with glittering golden lacquer. Rather than a striker, a ball of glowing white jade is inside the spherical glass with a cowrie shell at its base. The tail is a familiar indigo satin ribbon, his gift to you on the last Irodori Festival. His name is embroidered in your favorite fulgurite threads, and yours on the other side:

Kaedehara [Name].

Ayato knew this is the equivalent of a blessing. He ties it to his sword, aware by use of elemental sight that the energy within it will prevent the glass from breaking even in a skirmish. He makes a promise to your brother that he will stop at nothing to find you, and then ask for your hand.

Eventually, he did.

You stood in an abandoned temple amidst the call of summer. The crystalflies illuminated your form, and the water shimmered like liquid diamonds. The tinkling sounds echoed in Chinju Forest, as the sails of windchimes blew with the nightly breeze.

“[Name]…”

At the call of your name, you turned to face him and Ayato embraces you immediately.

“I want to go home.” You murmur.

The broken tone of your voice devastated him, and he nods while tightening his arms. You hugged him back, hiding your face on his chest while his nuzzled your shoulder.

“Yes, let’s go home now.” He whispered.

The Yashiro Commissioner spared nothing at your expense. He used the name of Kamisato to protect you. As his wife, you are an integral part of the Tri-Commission and one with the Raiden Shogun’s faction. You cannot be touched by the decree like your brother feared. Although you desire no riches, Ayato sought to provide something that will soothe your unease at the drastic changes in your life.

Thus, in an isolated wing of the estate, there was your personal workshop.

A safe haven. All for you.

Ayato leaned back with you in his arms, cuddling by the veranda. You were sorting through your brother’s letters, worried, and missing him dearly. Looking up at your husband, he smiles and kisses you fervently.

“I’m here.” He reassures.

You wrap your arms around his neck in response, snuggling his chest to nap. He adjusts you on his lap and rewraps the blanket around you. His long fingers comb through your hair, humming contently.

Heartbound lullabies in hiraeth, ever so mellifluous—

“You are my clarity amidst sullied waters, a wish to forever keep.”

[tomionefinds]

Hey guys! Do you have any suggestions for AU docs where Grindelwald wins and there is a sort of dystopian magical society? Thank you <3

I can think of a few already, but I think I may a list. Sorry, I like scavenger hunts. Thanks for feeding me.

We also have had a couple asks previously for just Dystopian AUs, and you may look over our Hermione: Slave tag for more fics, though Voldemort may have been the winner in some of those. -JD

Post 'Grindelwald Won' Magical AUs:

To the Victors by FreyaFallen M | WIP | 92k Grindewald fell in 1950: the five years in which he still held sway changed the course of history. Wizarding Britain, terrified at threats to the Statute of Secrecy, decided in the late 50s to pass the Muggleborn Wizarding Appropriation Act, which took muggleborn children from their parents at the first incidence of accidental magic. Children could be fostered or adopted by wizarding families, or would live in Wizarding Institutional Houses. Some Pureblood families took things a step further and decided to foster children in case they only had one heir to act as a sibling, companion, and stand-in for punishments deemed too harsh for their own children. If the muggleborn did well, they reasoned, it meant they had earned their place in the wizarding world. Hermione Granger is such a child, chosen at a young age to be Draco Malfoy's companion. She's an ideal muggleborn: polite, intelligent, and capable. It's not until she attends Hogwarts that someone sees her potential. She becomes the favorite of a certain professor, who sees her power for what it is. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy is embroiled in Wizarding politics, influenced by his sister-in-law's mad manipulations.

Bound by Sharkdiver1980 E/Ma | Complete | 59k After a freak accident occurs while attempting to destroy one of Voldemort’s horcruxes that sends Hermione back in time to the year 1947, she finds herself forcefully subjected to a new law put in place by the ministry to counteract the damage to the wizarding population done by Grindelwald. It was no wonder she had never heard of Proclamation no.1682, otherwise known as “The Marriage Law”, since it had obviously been repealed almost as quickly as it was instated. The problem was, she had already been assigned a husband. HG/TMR

A Time of Zombies by crochetaway M | One Shot | 4k Grindelwald’s death set off a massive curse across Britain. Every recently dead wizard has become decidedly undead. The world collapses and only a handful of survivors remain. Tom Riddle, Grindelwald’s lieutenant is one of them. As is Hermione Granger, Dumbledore ’s lieutenant. When they meet, sparks fly. Almost literally.

Please, Save Me by Winterblume M | Complete | 316k AU Tomione. No time travel no time turners. - 'Are you not scared of him? Tom Riddle has got a rather peculiar reputation. But I'm sure it's all stupid talk. He's Head Boy after all.' - 'What kind of a reputation' - 'Er… he's… well, he seems kinda dark.'

we'll sing in the sunshine by flosculous M | WIP | 10k Dystopia AU.

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 11

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

Don't forget you can read three chapters ahead on this story, twenty chapters ahead on "A Dream of Summer Rain", and two chapters ahead on "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad", by becoming a paid subscriber on my Substack or my Patreon!

Thank you so much for your continued support of my work! Every little bit helps me to keep going :)

And now, back to our regularly scheduled nerdy romcom shenanigans!

***

Zeke

24 Hours Earlier

I walked down the aisle of a RadioShack in Northridge. I’d meant to come here earlier to scavenge for parts, but I’d let myself pass out on the couch again texting with Kate all night. It was like… The third night in a row where that had happened. She sent me a meme, then I sent her one back, then she sent me another one… 

This had been happening basically nonstop since we hung out earlier in the week. And it was… It was… 

It felt great. 

But there was a part of me that wasn’t okay with how great it felt. Kate was part of the competition, and besides… Part of me felt like I was betraying Faith by hanging out with Kate so much, by starting to… 

The other night we’d been watching Gundam and laughed at the same profoundly stupid bit of unintentional comedy. She’d laughed first, as if she’d stumbled upon her favorite sort of inside joke, and it was just infectious. She giggled, and I started laughing with her, and it fed into each other, and we wound up having to pause the show so we could both laugh. Her dad wound up knocking on the door and asking if we were both okay, and that just made us laugh harder. 

The night had worn on, and she kept stealing glances over at me. I don’t think she knew I noticed, but… She was looking at me with these great big puppy dog eyes, sparkling blue even in the dim lighting of her bedroom. 

She’d done all this for me. She’d invited me into her home, into her bedroom no less, and gotten gussied up for me. I never used to notice stuff like that, until Faith came out and she started dressing up more, had us start doing that as part of our gimmick. Now I… I realized that Kate didn’t have to dress up and put on makeup and do her hair for me, but she had. And she couldn’t stop staring at me, smiling whenever I smiled. 

When she stopped laughing, she was leaning against my shoulder. I didn’t do anything to correct that. She was… Not what I’d expected. She was warm and soft and sweet, with a beautiful smile and a beautiful laugh. We found the same stupid stuff funny, and talking to her was… Easy. 

Easier than talking to Faith. 

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Objectively, I knew I’d been repressing some latent attraction to Faith for a while now, but she didn’t like guys, and besides, we worked together and lived together, so it would just be awkward if anything went wrong. 

And when I looked at Kate that night, I… I felt something, and I was worried it was stronger than what I felt for Faith. But that’s ridiculous- I had to be projecting my feelings for Faith onto Kate. I didn’t know her nearly as well, and… 

That was when my phone rang as I walked down the sterile white tile floor of the RadioShack, combing through shelves of electronics. It was Kate. Because of course it was. 

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Well… I… Ran into Faith today,” she said, in her practiced, high-pitched voice. She was getting better at it, and I was proud of her for working at it so consistently even when she still wasn’t ready to completely admit she was trans.

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Did you?”

“Yeah. She came into my parents’ shop,” Kate said. “I was, uh, in girl-mode.”

“How… Did that go?” I asked, choking on my own dread. 

“Really well,” Kate said. “She gave me some pointers on my voice. We talked about work, clothes, and cute girls.”

“Oh!” I said, a massive surge of relief going through me. “That’s great!” 

“Yeah, we both decided that she and I should try to get along if you and I are gonna…”

She trailed off, and I swore I heard my pulse racketing up with each second I waited for her to finish that sentence. Finally, I bit the bullet and said, “Gonna what?”

“... I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “What do you want me to say?”  

The words nearly choked me, but I managed to spit them out: “I’m not sure yet either.”

“That’s fair,” she said. “Well then… We can figure it out together.”

I smiled. “I like this plan.”

“I’m excited to be a part of it,” she finished for me.

“Yeah,” I said. “And hey- if nothing else, I like having you as a friend.”

“Same,” she said. 

And honestly, in that moment, it was all she needed to say. 

***

I noticed Kate’s hands trembling as she left the battle box, and I leaned forward inside the dugout as she walked- practically ran- back into the pit. 

“We should check on her,” Faith said. 

“Yeah,” I said. 

We both stood up and rushed after her, dodging Team Flipper wheeling their bot through the tunnel for their match with Team Jolly Roger. We made it to the end of the tunnel before I heard a familiar voice call out, “Guys, wait up a sec!” 

I froze, and so did Faith. 

I turned around slowly, and so did Faith. 

Olivia was walking towards us down the tunnel. 

My eyes went wide as I put myself between my best friend and her ex-girlfriend. “What do you want?”

Olivia was taken aback, but she stopped in front of me and said, “I just-”

“Actually, I don’t care,” I snapped. “Just get out of here-”

“Let her talk,” Faith said in a hollow voice, slowly walking forward with her eyes aimed strictly at the floor. 

I heaved an angry sigh through my nose, and then moved aside and let Faith face Olivia. 

“Hi, Faith,” Olivia said. 

My eyes bulged with shock at the sound of Olivia using Faith’s real name, and Faith’s head snapped up and she locked eyes on Olivia instantly. “Hi, Liv.”

“I just wanted to say,” Olivia said, “That it was a good fight. And I’m sorry for how I acted before. And how I acted tonight. I didn’t mean to go all ice queen on you, I just… I froze up when I saw you, saw how… Beautiful you looked. I felt horrible. And I was too cowardly to face you, to say anything to you. I guess… I dunno, I guess hearing Calloway decide to put a target on my back made me realize I’d gone too far. Like, if that idiot thinks I came off as a heel, I probably came off as a real heel. And I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but… I hope eventually that maybe you will.”

Faith was too stunned to speak. She let her jaw hang loose while she stood there, but eventually, she managed a gracious nod. 

Relief surged through me once again, to an almost incomprehensible level. 

“That’s all I had to say,” Olivia said. “Like I said, good fight. I’ll see you both around.”

And with that, she walked away. 

Faith still didn’t say anything, but once Olivia had vanished from sight, she turned around, and I saw the happiest, purest smile I’d ever seen from her spring to life on her face while tears of what had to be joy leaked out of her eyes. 

“You okay?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” Faith said. “I think… I think I’m okay.”

“Good,” I smiled. 

“Let’s go find Kate,” Faith said. 

She darted off down the tunnel, and I chased after her. 

We scoured the pit looking for Kate, doing a full circuit before we came back to the empty swath where her workstation had been. We looked, and looked, and we couldn’t find her. 

“Excuse me? Zeke? Faith?” came another familiar voice. 

I heard Faith mutter ‘milf’ under her breath as Mrs. Calloway came up to us. 

“Have you seen… You know?” I asked. 

“Yes. She’s in a state, though. I think you should talk to her, Zeke,” Mrs. Calloway said. 

“Uh… I… I dunno if I’m qualified,” I said. “Faith though-”

“Both of you, then,” Mrs. Calloway said. “Please, come with me.”

Faith nodded, and so did I. 

We followed her out of the arena, and into that side parking lot once again. It all came back to here. A damn parking lot. Wasn’t sure what to do with that information, but I had more important things to worry about. 

Mrs. Calloway guided us over to Kate’s black pick-up truck. Mr. Calloway was there, leaning against the back of it. Kate sat in the trunk, curled into a fetal position, head on her knees, not moving or saying anything. 

Mr. Calloway walked up to me and put an arm on my shoulder. “She asked for you specifically. Please be careful with her, young man.”

I nodded, the unspoken implication of ‘if you hurt her, I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident’ ringing loud and clear. 

“Same to you, miss,” he said to Faith. Fair enough- Kate must have told them about her and Faith’s… More antagonistic relationship. 

I leaned against the back of the trunk and looked at the person… The girl curled up inside it. Her eyes were wide and glassy. “Hey.”

She grunted.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“I…,” Kate trailed off. “I did it again.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You won a fight- isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not that,” Kate said, finally blinking and making eye contact with me. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, they just… Looked so defeated. “I went too far. I… I did what I always do, but I went too far this time.”

“But you hate Haverfield,” I said, furrowing my brow. 

“Yeah, but when I did what I did, I felt like… I felt like somebody else. And I didn’t like that person,” Kate said. “It felt like someone else’s skin was on me and it felt disgusting. I felt disgusting. It doesn’t make sense- I used to do this all the time and felt nothing.”

“Nothing?” Faith said, climbing into the trunk with Kate and sitting down next to her. 

“Yeah, it was just… Something I did. I would go hammy and act all tough and antagonistic and… And…”

“Macho?” Faith offered. 

“... Maybe a little.”

“A little?” Faith cocked an eyebrow. 

“... A lot,” Kate said. 

“And now when you do that, it stings, doesn’t it? Like you’re putting on a mask that doesn’t fit you anymore?” Faith said. 

“Yeah,” Kate said. 

That was when it clicked for me- just how much of an act Kate’s heel routine truly had been, and that maybe… She hadn’t actually enjoyed it that much, she just didn’t know how to stop. Like there hadn’t been any other options she’d been aware of, but now… 

I climbed into the trunk too, and Faith and I flanked Kate on both sides. An instinct, and impulse, ran through me, an electric understanding that I needed to put my arm around her. Every part of me wanted to, but… Something stopped me. Like it was a line I was too afraid to cross, that now wasn’t the right moment, that-

Kate tilted to the side and leaned against my arm. My eyes bulged and I blinked rapidly, unsure of what to do. Faith’s face went through an identical journey, and I could see gears turning inside her head. 

Then she nodded at me, and gestured to my arm, the electric sensation came back, guided my arm around Kate’s shoulder and brought her close, held her tight. She was warm, and she was big, but she felt so damn small. I knew she was strong, but at that moment, I knew she was letting herself be fragile and vulnerable. 

It was crazy, how much she’d opened up to me, and so quickly, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. She needed someone outside her family, someone who she could trust implicitly as she figured out her true self and started showing it to the rest of the world. Faith had known me for years when she’d come out, but Calloway and I… We’d mostly just avoided each other. I’d kept to myself last season- Faith and Olivia were the power couple face of our team, I was just a weirdo hanger-on. But Kate had been alone. 

And she’d opened up to me. Not entirely on purpose, but… The real her, underneath the surface, was a lot more delicate than the rough and tumble exterior would suggest. Showing that to someone, let alone someone who’d cursed you out in this exact same spot, must have been terrifying. But as far as she was concerned, I’d done everything right, and she’d made a friend. She trusted me. 

I had to do everything in my power not to betray that trust. And I had to do everything in my power to keep that beautiful, fragile girl who was finally stepping into the light after a lifetime stumbling around in the dark safe and happy. 

“What’s going through your head right now, Katie?” I asked. 

Her cheek was pressed into my ribcage. Her parents had stepped away, her dad looming with his back turned a dozen yards off while her mother had darted off somewhere else. For practical purposes, it was just the three of us. “I feel like I don’t deserve to go by that name.”

“Don’t be ridiculous- of course you do,” Faith said. 

“But I… I’m not good at being a girl. I act all and angry and aggressive and loud and obnoxious to get attention-”

“I hate to break this to you, but none of those are inherently masculine traits,” Faith said. 

“And it served its purpose for you,” I said. “It got you where you needed to go. But you don’t need to be that person anymore.”

“Then why did I fall back on it like that?” Kate whispered. “Why did I fall back on being an asshole without even thinking?”

“You were… You were upset,” I said. “Haverfield got under your skin. It happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen.”

“So, what, you expect to be perfect all the time?” I asked. “That’s not how it works.”

“He’s right,” Faith said. “You’re… Look, you’re never going to be a perfect picture of femininity all the time, but neither is anyone else.”

“Maybe I… Maybe I want to be,” Kate said. “Do I deserve to be? To have that opportunity? Why should someone like me get to be that, ever?”

“Because it’s what you want,” I said. “And you’re good at it. Look, I know you’re not… A hundred percent convinced yet, but you’re really good at being a girl. It comes naturally to you. And you’ve just gone right for it. It’s the same with this job- you told me you had to put yourself through community college and save every penny to build your robot, and you did all that yourself.”

“I had help.”

“Everyone always does,” I said. “What’s important is that you went for what you want on your own terms. That’s who you are and I… I admire that about you.”

“You… You do?” She said, looking up at me with those big, hopeful, sparkling blue eyes. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I… I spent my whole childhood doing whatever my parents wanted me to do. If I didn’t obey them completely at all times, they came down on me like a ton of bricks, always telling me how I’d only be good enough to hack it if I did exactly what they said. Even when I finally disobeyed them and joined the robotics team in college, it wasn’t even my idea- Faith and Olivia asked me to join because they wanted someone else to help out. You’ve got a drive that most people don’t, Kate. And it’s really something special. So, if you want to be Kate, I know that you’ll go for it. And you’ll be…”

“... What?”

“Even more amazing and beautiful than you are already,” I said, astonished at my boldness. When the hell did I get this articulate? I believed every word I was saying, but I usually had more of a filter than this.  

That was when I noticed Faith had scampered off somewhere. It was just Kate and I in that trunk. Her father had gotten even further away, giving us… 

All the time and space we needed. 

“I… I think I don’t want to be Keith anymore,” Kate said. “I thought I did, but he just feels… Like someone I don’t need to be anymore, and like someone I don’t know why I ever wanted to be.”

“So, what do you want?” I asked. 

“I want to be Kate, even if I don’t deserve to be her.”

“You deserve it,” I said. “You’re not a bad person. You just get a little carried away sometimes. Everyone does.”

“Thank you,” she said, snuggling my chest.

An iron spike of shame tore through my heart, shattering the bliss. There was a part of me, an irrational one, that felt like I was betraying Faith. But Faith wasn’t into me like that; if she was, she surely would have told me by now. There was nothing to betray. And she’d given us space just now to… 

To… 

“There’s one other thing I want,” Kate said. “But I’m not sure if I should go for it.”

“I feel like you will anyway,” I said, my heartbeat skyrocketing. 

“I really wanna kiss you,” she said. 

I gulped, my chest tightening and fireworks going off in my mind. “I… I wanna kiss you too,” I said, the words slipping free before I could stop them. “But I’m not sure… I don’t think now’s the time. You were just having a panic attack, and I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “That’s very reasonable. I understand completely.”

“Thank you.”

“But… I think I’m catching feelings for you, Zeke,” she said. “I didn’t expect to- I didn’t even realize I liked guys until pretty recently. It’s all so new to me still, but… You helped me realize who I am. And you’re so kind and respectful and goofy and laid-back and… And handsome and it… And you…”

My impulses betrayed me, and I kissed her on the top of her head, the lavender scent of her shampoo wafting through my nose. “How’s that for a compromise?” I said. “Because I think I might be catching feelings for you too.”

“And you’re smooth, too,” she said. “Dammit. That’s perfect. This is… For right now, this is perfect.”

 “We can figure the rest out together,” I said. 

She smiled at me, as if it were all I’d needed to say. 

“Can we stay here like this a little longer?” she asked. 

“As long as you want,” I said, holding her close. 

I knew I needed to get back to Faith, but… Goddammit, in that moment, I never wanted to leave this spot, never wanted to let Kate go. 

[expectiations]

Dear Tia,

I am scared of pressuring you, but it is rather difficult to keep track of whether anonymous asks have been answered already. And I saw you answering asks and just wanted to check in whether you have gotten around to my ao3 asks yet. So that if you have, I can go scavenge for them :)

I hope you are having a good day <3

(And don't listen to the River haters; I pity them, it is so much better to love her)

ao3-anon

OH SHIT I AM SO SORRY. I genuinely thought you're the same participant. Or maybe it's two? Idrk 🥹 but anyways here are my answers. And I'm assuming (🥹) that these previous asks came from the same person? So I'm grouping them into this ask too.

– one

When I wrote that DNW, I was in a messy headspace (heh) so I just wanted lighthearted fluff stuff. However, it's also okay for me to have a few angsty moments while keeping the overall fic lighthearted in feels.

Playful DoctorRiver banter? Sure! They're fine for me.

I'm a bit partial to River but if the situation fits for Mels, go ahead! Same goes for using another regeneration of the Doctor.

– two

I am glad to say that I've been doing my best to sleep before 12 am 🫶🏻✨ (except last night. that was a fluke. and totally @croxxbunx's fault 🙄)

Aw thank you! I totally missed writing fanfics 🥹

I am proud to say I'm quite good at drumming up endless prompts. I'm just rubbish at moving it from prompt-level to fic-level lol

– three

I didn't include it since the questions have been answered but thank you for the hug!! 🫂

–

On another note, I just remembered how I came up with that prompt in the first place. I found it amusing to put the Paternoster Gang in a situation where they have to deal with DoctorRiver shenanigans but in a sort of loop. Cause I have this headcanon that the Gang are sort of like parental figures to River. And also provide marriage counseling on the side. And the fun Strax and young!River, who's still quite attached to her guns, would have together!

I mean we all know how the TARDIS totally adores her Water, right? So she makes River a room full of weapons and she and Strax have such a fun time there. Totally for the glory of the Sontaran Empire of course.

Like just imagine young!River, new to Luna U, struggling to be more 'human' than 'weapon'. Fighting the urge to punch/shoot first, ask second. Here comes along the Gang, who shows her how to find her balance, who comforts her and assures her it's okay to hold a weapon while also holding her back from going on a rampage at the slightest grievance.

Strax also had a nursing stint, yes? He nurses River's wounds (you really should be more careful, boy. you are not a strong and mighty Sontaran.) and teaches her how to take care of different kinds of wounds and how to fight for the glory of the Sontaran Empire. I can just hear baby River's giggle and see her bright eyes taking in everything Strax teaches her.

Jenny and Madame Vastra. Feminominons of the Victorian Era. Also River's badass mothers who try to teach her empathy and etiquette, how to give as good as she gets. I like to imagine them dropping in on River and making sure she's eating well, helping her study. (They also totally had nothing to do with the disappearance of the Professor who tried to claim her essay as their own. Absolutely not.)

[offsidekineticist]

△ - What happened between you and your brother?

Thanks for the ask! Also, oof, right for the jugular. Full disclosure, Regill remembers this a little differently.

CW: accusations of genocide, physical violence between siblings, death of a parent

Ask him - he's the one who left.

Alright, alright. Fine. So things between us were always kind of weird - we're half-brothers, so we didn't actually meet until I was seven and he was five. And I just didn't fit in as a kid. I was the bastard with the weird accent and the massive outbursts and clothes scavenged somewhere between Katapesh and Finderplain. But we found a sort of mutually beneficial arrangement - I mean, I counted him as my friend, but I think he just saw me as this useful nuisance he was onligated to tolerate. And that was OK, I was fine with that. I loved him because he was my brother. He didn't have to feel the same way.

And it worked out fine until he joined the hellknights. I thought he was crazy, but he wanted me to understand - I don't know why he cared so much - so he tried to explain. It didn't really work. I mean - ok. Hypothetically, if the hellknights get their perfectly ordered world, what do you think happens to gnomes? We die. We bleach and we die. It's the easiest genocide in the world because they can just stand there and do nothing, and we'll start dropping like flies, and here's Regill deciding he's going go be a good little undesirable and help things along. And Regill tries to come up with excuses about bleachlings and Irrere and returning to the First World, and I'm not having it, and -

Do I really have go into detail? Fine. He says something about how I "should know better than most the cost of refusing to accept the bleaching." I lived with my mother until she died when I was a child. She died of the bleaching. That's why she had me.

I loved my mother. I still do. She was amazing. Best mother I could have asked for, and she deserved a better son than me. And here's Regill, who never met her, acting like it's obvious she should've just lay down and died instead of being my mother, like she didnt deserve every second she could claw back from her curse. And I always knew he didn't think much of me, but that he just took it for granted that I'd agree I was a mistake -

I backhanded him so hard that the only reason he didn't hit the floor was that there was a table there to catch him. I had a temper, and we fought plenty, but that was the first time I ever physically attacked him. But, I mean - what did he think I was going to do? You don't say shit like that! I don't care how right you think you are, my mother is off fucking limits. And he looks at me like he's expecting me to apologize like I always do when I lash out and we fight, but he went after my fucking mother, I'm not apologizing! And when he figures that out, instead of manning up and apologizing for what he said, he just fucking bolts out the door. Not so much as a "fuck you" on the way out.

And that's it. Next time I saw him, he was hanging on a hook in the Lost Chapel. And before you ask, no, this had nothing to do with why we didn't divert to help his unit. I'm not that petty. We didn't divert because I thought the whole thing had 'cultist trap' written all over it. I was wrong, and I failed him.

8/10

[pyotan]

Fit

A rare night to be shared under the stars of autumn, G’amal and his father sit around their made fire as they pass back a canister of mint tea. A soothing drink after a long day of scavenging and checking in of their land and woods.. The young seeker feels spent and famished as he chugs away.. Hoping the tea to fill his empty gut for the pair spend this evening fasting.

“Baba, do not be greedy. Thaliak’s quench is meant to be shared in times of vulnerability.” Scolding words but they are said with a tone of bemusement and chuckle. 

G’amal huffs in mild irritation but.. Obeys and hands the drink over to his father, ears fluttering down in a sort of submission, to show understanding and respect. “..Ssssorry..”

“Thank you, baba.” G’hassan accepts the enforced offer, sipping only once and in a small amount before returning it back and pulling forth his instrument into his lap. “Of courssse, we are not in such a crisissss but there will be a day when Rhalgr will reign and so you musssst be prepared.” A proper adjustment, he strokes to the goobbue-skinned neck.. 

G’amal having accepted the return of drink, he merely hums in response as he watches his father.. The flames before them glowing the Nunh’s dark features and lute’s worn features. Admiring and just as well.. Feeling out of place. These private moments should be shared with that of G’hassan’s blood. 

Not G’amal, a child out of traitorous affairs, not a monster.

“..Never will one trussst something that comes from the lips of a beast, ssso..”

“Ssso.. why should you care, yes?” The elder of the two does not look to his son, but instead plucks at some strings. Threaded from the very guts of the goobbue his father had slain, the instrument in his lap is all from the harvest of his proud hunt. Every little note and textured touch, it is all from the connection of G’hassan and that beast-like goobbue from long ago. “Well, I had taken from you.”

“You are jussst like that.”

A deep chuckle. “Ohohoh I suppose, yesss! But..” another strum of his strings.. He begins to play a song that G’amal has heard many times. “There are others jussst like that.” He mimics his son’s hiss, rumbling in a laugh as he looks up to see the young one pout. “Not everyone hates you, you jussst haven’t met them yet.”

G’amal rocks the canister of tea in his hand, feeling the splash of it as he does so.. “I don’t want to.” ever dramatic.. 

“Hmm.. hmm..~ ever like your patron Oschon, aren’t you? Sssseeking solitude and to be as free as the wind.” G’hassan smiles.. Dimples wrinkled and rippled across his face in the glow of the campfire. “But even our beloved Oschon has a lover and she smiles upon us tonight with her love.” and with that, he points up above, G’hassan’s amber gaze squinting in parental fondness. “When you feel the sssolitude to be too much, when the achesss in your heart strum to a point of breakage, look to the Moon for they are your love, ever casting it down on you even in the darkest of nights.”

[eury--dice]

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Antiope was bad with flowers.

She was always bad with flowers; good with nature, sure, crunchy, but not quite flowery. She could comport herself properly and without show, an upper-lip pride she couldn’t help but inherit, no showmanship necessary. Maybe it was the one part of the weighty Jones legacy she could shoulder with ease.

(Decorum over decor, though her parents had always found a balance of both.)

In Ranger classes freshman year, she received a big bright D on her report card in scavenging. She’d pored over textbooks, found each groove and variation between types of mushrooms and scavenger’s berries, determined to get this right of all things (if you’re going to be different you have to be the best but you can never be the best with all the others hanging above you) and then being faced with six flowering plants and feeling her heart sink into her not-yet growth-spurted knees. It was like face-blindness, only the faces were tiny, taunting, flowering buds Antiope couldn’t begin to decipher. She saw them when she closed her eyes, and when she fell asleep she dreamed of poisonous pollen sinking into her skin, petals wrapping around her fingers and clenching them shut.

“So who’s your favored enemy now? Flowers?” Corsica asked one morning, one foot out the door for her run, probably catching the sallowness in Antiope’s face.

“I’d like to see your favored enemy,” Antiope cut out before she could stop herself, grasping at straws for something to say, “anything that can drag you out of your office?”

“Aw, Ant, you know I’m not a ranger! Cute, though.”

Antiope got over it, like she always did. She studied and studied and brought up her GPA to a respectable amount, learning enough scavenging to know at least the difference between a weed and a wildflower. By sophomore year, she even thought she might turn the tide and make scavenging her thing, break that stupid favored enemy once and for all.

Something else broke it, of course.

The Seven love flowers, afterwards, and it’s a good thing they do. Their houses are overrun with arrangements as though they are attending their own funerals, as though the silence they’d left in their homes was permanent rather than solved. Antiope and Sam sort through them, orchids, carnations, chrysanthemums, and Zelda eats them one by one.

Danielle goes quiet, sitting a little ways away from everyone else, but not her normal, supportive quiet. She takes a lily with a cut stem and holds it in her hands, green energy flowing from her fingertips, and the stem elongates for a moment, divine creation right in front of Antiope’s eyes. But the energy ebbs a moment later, and instead mushrooms sprout from her palms and encircle the lily completely, disintegrating to nothing. Her eyes flick up to Antiope, and a smile spreads over her face, gentle and acknowledging.

“Druidcraft,” she says, tipping her palm to let the crumbles fall to the floor.

Antiope can feel herself frown, and she doesn’t stop. She stands up, carrying a carnation with her. “Why grow it just to let it die?”

Danielle shrugs. “Circle of life, y’know? ‘ts what they all thought we’d be doing be now.” In her palm, something bioluminescent glows for half of a moment, and then her hand is in front of Antiope’s face, twin mushrooms greeting her.

“Oh, uh, thanks?”

“Only if you want it,” Danielle says. “I’ve been working my way up all afternoon, man.”

Sam laughs behind them, loudly, at something Zelda said. Antiope smiles a little, and sees Yelle do the same, the skin between her eyes creasing. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’m gonna feel good about this one.”

“No, seriously. No pressure. It’s not for every — oh, God, please don’t choke on it,” Danielle cuts in, her peace signs rapidly morphing into outstretched hands of concern, voice flattening out a little.

Antiope holds up a hand to her throat, coughing around the mushroom. “That’s a —different texture than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, man, sorry, should’ve warned you. Do you need some water or something?”

Powering through a cough, Antiope manages to wheeze out “yes please.”

Antiope Druidcrafts something herself for the first time at the start of her first senior year, and it’s half an accident; she wants so deeply to provide for her friends on their quest that her finger slips on her arrow and a faint paw noise comes from behind her. She spins, and it’s only her own magic she senses underfoot. That lily grows under her eyelids for a moment, her magic so close to Yelle’s she could practically reach out with a tether and yank her best friend closer to her. Instead she drops to her knees, gathers seed pods between her long fingers, and feels them blossom in her hands. Antiope makes it back to camp, a few rations short but overflowing with petals.

(Penny likes that. They make nice flower necklaces, apparently. And Danielle seems happy enough to handle the foraging with a tiny flower woven around her fingers.)

Antiope is better at flowers, it seems. Making them with her hands is easier than seeing them in the wild. But still, she leaves most of the flowery stuff to Danielle, the crafting with Penny, and the styling to Ostentatia. And so the matter of flowers seems to be a closed case.

Maybe a little too close. The course credit she fails — on purpose, but also, well, not — is an echo of Freshman year. Identification, Scavenging, and Flower Creation. She knew it was coming, but what crawls down her throat is a little cruel and metallic when she swallows that fact.

With the GED quest it almost doesn’t matter. It almost doesn’t matter, and Antiope could go through her daily life with no problem, Druidcrafting in the shadow of Yelle until her fingers cramp. But before she knows it, her friends are on a pile on the ground in front of her, and there’s something healing in the tears but Ant can’t bring herself to cry like that, not yet. So she takes first watch, and senses rather than sees Danielle approach her from behind, that thrum of common magic ever-present behind her ears.

Antiope locks eyes this time, and it’s like it always is with Yelle. Immediate. Understanding. Calm. And Antiope isn’t sure if it’s the words she can’t say yet rising in her throat, or maybe the vulnerability so close behind her she doesn’t want to feel, so she slides to her knees on the ground without breaking eye contact and grasps at anything. Without thinking, she cradles a weed in her hands and morphs it into a wildflower, holding it out for Yelle, looking upwards, the light of Druidcraft creation illuminating Yelle’s face with the offer and worsening Ant’s vertigo.

She fumbles it between her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know why — I didn’t have a plan when I picked it up,” she says, voice growing taut as she lets the wildflower fall. But Yelle swipes it from the ground, and nods, and it’s all that she needs to do.

“You’re pretty good at flowers,” Yelle whispers, smiling, and for once they don’t meet each other’s eyes.

[the-al-chemist]

The Phoenix Resistance - Book 1, Chapter 9

The Smuggler and the Scavenger

A/N: the first of a currently undecided number of chapters written as part of the @phoenixresistance project. Kaari Arcano belongs to the incredible Lari @kathrynalicemc, who set up the project and invited me to contribute. Mad props and big thanks to you 🧡 BTW, it’s not too late to join the project, just ask Lari about it. Warnings: sheer desperation, starvation, discussion of war and prison.

Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire, England - 14th October 1997, 7.58am

The sun had finished rising over the semi-detached houses of Laburnum Close, and the cacophony of slamming car doors, shouting children, and rattling keys had given way to a gentle sort of hush. The street was empty now, other than a woman with a toddler in a pushchair, one man with curly black hair waiting at a bus stop, and a handful of the local cats picking the best spots to bask in the cool October sunlight.

As the lady with the pushchair walked past Number 12, her child reached out to stroke a tortoiseshell cat sitting on the front lawn, its coat - all mottled black-brown-golden-red - blending in with the autumn leaves littering the grass. The cat leapt to her feet and hissed, her back arched, her fur standing on end. The lady pushed the child away, and the cat turned tail, running down the narrow path between the house and the one next to it, jumping over the gate and into the back garden, where she disappeared completely. In her place stood a short and skinny young woman with matted dark hair and hazel eyes.

Artemis Hexley pushed her hair back from her face, and pulled a wand from the pocket of her coat. She pointed the wand at the back door, and the click of the lock could be heard.

It was a nice house, if a little blandly decorated, she thought, as she walked in through the back door and into the kitchen. Starving hungry, she picked a banana out of a fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and ate it as she padded through the hallway.

“Accio,” she muttered, holding her left palm out. A sheet of paper and a pencil flew from one of the rooms towards her. She caught both, and held her wand between her teeth as she started to scrawl a message on the paper.

Wizarding World at war, your child has been sent abroad for their safety, and for yours. Can’t tell you more, but they say that they love you.

She wasn’t really sure what else to write. She couldn’t tell them more than that, it was too risky, but somehow she got the feeling that most parents would want more information about their child’s well-being and whereabouts than that. Not that she was any expert in the matter.

She left the message and banana skin on a countertop in the kitchen and went up the stairs, wand in hand. She hadn’t washed in days - not unless she counted grooming her fur in cat form, which she didn’t. She found the bathroom and summoned two towels from a cupboard on the landing: one for her, and one to cover the mirror. She knew better than to look at her own reflection at the moment.

It took a minute or so to work the dials that controlled the shower, but as soon as the hot water started to run over her bruised and bony body, turning an ashy brown colour as it did, she felt more human. Not completely human, but at least like she might be something that resembled a human.

Wrapping herself in the towel, she used magic to clean her clothes, and redressed herself. Her belly rumbled. A banana wasn’t enough food, not after days of living off the bare minimum. Or surviving off the bare minimum, anyway. Living was a strong word for what she’d been doing.

The kitchen cupboards were well-stocked, thank Godric, and so she started filling her pockets with items. She probably wouldn’t end up eating all of them herself, but at least they’d do someone some good. As she did so, she heard a floorboard creak in the hallway, and her body stiffened.

She wasn’t alone here.

Cursing herself for not checking before, she closed her hand on her wand, and turned around slowly. The handle of the kitchen door turned, and she planted her feet on the ground, knees bent, her right hand gripping her wand, her left reaching for a knife on the draining board, her eyes fixed on the door. It opened, and she pounced.

In one darting movement, she threw herself across the length of the room, using what little bodyweight she had left to force them - no, him, it was a man - against the wall, her left forearm pressed to his chest, the knife held against his neck, her wand raised and pointed at his face.

“Who the hell are you?” she snarled. The man smirked.

“Most people shake hands,” he said. He had a peculiar accent, one Artemis couldn’t place, but it wasn’t British. “Still, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Artemis Hexley.”

Artemis didn’t move other than to apply a small amount of pressure to the knife.

“I asked you who you are,” she said.

“My name is Kaari Arcano.”

“And how do you know who I am? How did you find me here?”

“It’s a long story. Perhaps if you put down the knife and the wand, I’ll be able to tell you,” replied Kaari Arcano. Slowly and deliberately, he reached into his pocket, Artemis following the movement with her wand, and pulled out his own. He looked her in the eye, and threw it gently across the room. “See? I am not here to hurt you. Put down the knife.”

Artemis looked from his hand to his face. He looked genuine. She lowered the knife and stepped backwards, but kept her wand raised. He chuckled.

“I’m not sure what you were planning on doing with a bread knife,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Were you going to saw me to death?”

Artemis scowled at him.

“Just tell me what you’re doing here so I can get on.”

“What am I doing here? I’m looking for you.”

“Why?”

“I need your help,” said Kaari Arcano, before correcting himself. “We need your help.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“The Phoenix Resistance.”

“Never heard of it,” Artemis shrugged.

“No, but you work with us. In a way, anyway,” Kaari Arcano tilted his head, his black curly hair falling over his shoulder. “Have you never stopped to think about what happens to your little friends once they leave you?”

He raised his eyebrows again, and Artemis narrowed her eyes at him.

“The smugglers,” she said, and Kaari Arcano nodded. “I never ask what happens. It is better not to know, that way if I get caught no one can get that information from me.”

“Noble.”

“Hardly.”

Kaari Arcano smiled, less teasingly than before, and Artemis lowered her wand slightly. She looked the smuggler up and down. He had an average build, somewhat muscular, with patterns of scars and shiny burns on his forearms. Artemis had seen burns like that before.

“You’re a dragonologist,” she said, lowering her wand further.

“I am.”

Artemis nodded and moved away from him. She opened the cold cupboard, and started to investigate its contents.

“You were sitting outside this morning, where the bus stops,” she said, picking up a piece of cheese, breaking off a chunk, and eating it. “You were waiting for me. How did you know I was going to be here?”

“You’ve been asking for their addresses,” said Kaari Arcano. “The last one said you promised to leave a message for their family.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t want them thinking their kid’s just done a runner and won’t come back for no good reason.”

“You do it for all of them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you always steal food from them, or is this a special occasion?”

Artemis, clutching a Tupperware box full of an unknown substance, came out of the cold cupboard and stared at Kaari Arcano. He was grinning, as if her antics were amusing. She glowered at him.

“I’m risking my life to save their children, putting up with the dementors for days on end, existing on a diet of cold porridge and mice. I think they can afford to let me use their shower and eat their leftover” - she opened up the Tupperware and peered inside - “chilli con carne. Hm.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Yeah,” Artemis cupped her hand and used it to start eating the mixture. It would have been better warm, but she was too hungry to care.

“Do you want a fork?”

“Do I want to what?”

“A fork. For the chilli con carne,” Kaari Arcano grinned. “Not that you don’t look very appealing right now.”

Artemis pulled a face at him, and continued to eat the cold chilli with her bare hands.

“What do you want from me, anyway?” she asked him through mouthfuls of food. “Why are you looking for me?”

“You can get people out of Azkaban.”

“And?”

“There’s someone we need to get out of there. A prisoner who is needed for… for the war effort.”

“A child?”

“No.”

“I am only helping the children now. Once they’re all out, I can start on the others.”

“I am afraid that that won’t work. We can’t wait,” Kaari Arcano’s voice turned harder. “The person we need to break out is important.”

“Everyone is important.”

“But not everyone can change the result of a war.”

Artemis swallowed, slowly, before giving her answer.

“Tough. I’m getting the children out first.”

“But-”

“Have you ever been there? Azkaban?” Artemis asked him. He shook his head. “It’s awful. You know, birds don’t fly over there. All you can hear is the wind, and the waves, and the screams. Sometimes you can’t tell who’s screaming, you or the person in the cell next to you. The dementors are everywhere, making you remember… everything. The inmates talk to themselves, and they cry until they have no tears left, and some of them are children. Children. Left there in the dark all alone. Whoever it is you want to get out can wait a while.”

“I understand. But we need them out of there, because-”

“I don’t care how useful they are. People are not just worth saving if they’re useful. You said yourself that they’re important, if that’s true they’ll have them in a high security cell.”

“So you don’t think you’ll be able to do it? Or you are worried about getting caught?”

“I can do it, and I can do it without getting caught,” Artemis said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not scared, but I don’t want to draw attention to what I’m doing. Death Eaters don’t care about the odd Muggleborn child disappearing, it’s hardly like they think they’ll get anywhere, what with them having the trace on them. They just assume that they’ve drowned or something, I guess. But a high security prisoner? They’ll notice that, and then they’ll know something’s up.”

“It’s a risk, I know.”

“I don’t think you do know. If I get caught, no one else can escape. If they realise that these children are getting out, and who is helping them-”

“The smuggling will have to stop altogether,” Kaari Arcano finished Artemis’ sentence for her. She nodded.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“But, if we win the war, then there won’t be any more need for smuggling,” Kaari Arcano reasoned. “And this prisoner will help us to do that. Without him, the chances of us winning are limited. And next year there will be more Muggleborn children sent to that hell-hole, and the year after, and the year after that.”

Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed. He had a point. But so did she. She jutted out her chin and shook her head defiantly.

“I’m not doing it,” she said. “Sorry. Find another way.”

“Okay, I will try,” Kaari Arcano pulled a small scroll of paper out of the pocket of his cloak and handed it to Artemis. “But I will find you and ask you to reconsider if there isn’t one. This is how to reach me if you change your mind before then.”

“I won’t.”

“You might. Think about it,” the man smiled again, and retrieved his wand. “Until we meet again, Artemis Hexley. Maybe next time, you will have a better knife.”

There was a loud crack, and he disappeared, leaving Artemis alone once more.

[dalekofchaos]

Rey’s lack of motivation and stake in the Sequel Trilogy

I have a question to ask you. What are Rey’s motivations? What are her wants and goals and why is she even drawn to the conflict between The First Order and The Resistance?

Rey’s motivations in the Sequels.

Rey wants to find her parents.

Wants to bring back Luke Skywalker

Rey wants to find her place 

Wants Ben to return to the light

Has no real motivation to be on either side of the conflict, but chooses The Resistance anyway

Says she wants to kill Palpatine in cold blood, was close to giving in

Now she chose to fuck off to Tatooine and we see very little in her motivation to do....ANYTHING

Let’s compare Anakin and Luke’s motivations.

What are Anakin's motivations?

Wants to leave a life of slavery and come back and free his mother

Wants to become a Jedi and become a hero

Wants to protect Padme

Wants to save Obi-Wan

Wants to stop Dooku and end the war before it can begin

Wants to be a good master to Ahsoka

Wants to clear Ahsoka’s name

Wants to stop the war

Wants to save Padme and his children's lives at the cost of the Jedi and doing whatever it takes and becomes Darth Vader

What are Luke’s motivations?

Luke is a farm boy who dreams of leaving his mundane life.

Luke discovers that his father -unlike what his uncle told him, was a heroic Jedi Knight

Luke, is reluctant and refuses the ‘call to adventure’, but after the Empire murders his Aunt and Uncle, he decides to Join Obi-Wan on the quest.

Save the Princess

Luke is angered by Obi-Wan’s death at the hands of Darth Vader, and seeks retribution.

Destroy the Death Star and save the Rebellion

To be trained by Yoda

Save Han and Leia

Luke discovers his father, the heroic Jedi, is none other than Darth Vader. After years of training, he sets out to redeem his father and turn him back to the light.

After the redemption of his father and fall of the Empire, Luke goes on a journey to restore The Jedi Order

Compare Rey and Luke’s journeys in ANH and TFA. Rey wanders around and stuff is handed to her. Luke takes initiative and works for what he has. Let's compare ANH with TFA

Luke screws up on watching R2, then chooses to chase him down. He makes another mistake by spying on the Tusken Raiders instead of getting the hell out of dodge. This leads to him being knocked out, and rescued by Ben Kenobi.

Luke initiates the meeting with Ben Kenobi, and it happens because of his early bad decisions.

His aunt & uncle are killed, but thanks to his screw-up with R2 & the raiders, he and the droids are spared.

He chooses to follow Kenobi to Alderaan instead of staying on Tattooine.

He chooses to accept Kenobi's instruction in the ways of the Force, even though most people think it's a myth and a joke. Even though he's bad at it and doesn't seem to get any results at first.

He makes the decision that they're going to rescue Leia, potentially dooming their escape from the Death Star. This sets off a chain of events that leads to Kenobi's death.

Then he chooses to help fight the Death Star, even though he's not a member of the rebellion. He was offered a job with Han, and he could have ensured his safety by leaving with them. Instead he chose certain death.

Finally, he chooses to trust a literal voice in his head instead of the targeting computer.

Let's contrast that with Rey.

BB-8 runs into her. She tries to send him away, but relents and lets him follow her home.

She chooses not to sell him for food.

Finn wanders into camp on his own initiative.

The camp is attacked because BB-8 is there. The camp would have been attacked no matter what Rey did. The other scavenger was, I'm pretty sure, from the same camp. And if she'd sold him, BB-8 would also have still been in the camp.

She is forced to take the Millennium Falcon when the ship she wanted to use was blown up.

She chooses to go with Finn and bring BB-8 to the Rebellion Resistance.

She stumbles upon Luke's lightsaber, and runs away from it.

She accidentally runs into Kylo Ren while hiding in the forest.

He chooses to kidnap her because he senses something special about her.

After her first exposure to the Force, she learns how to use some of it, successfully, and escapes from Ren. And to her credit, escaping and trying the Force out is a choice she made, rather than something that passively happened to her.

Then she, um, is standing there when Han is killed.

She chooses to fight Kylo Ren, and beats him in her first lightsaber battle after closing her eyes and thinking about the Force.

She sort of chooses to go summon Luke back to civilization - I say sort of because it's not clear why she was picked to go over, say, Leia.

Luke makes mistakes, and he is an active participant in his story. Rey is just kind of there, most of the time. She doesn't make mistakes, but she doesn't really do much else.

Rey has no personal stake in this war or motivations and she’s supposed to be the main protagonist.

Rey has never left Jakku before TFA and she tells Han that ”she never knew so much green existed” when they go to Maz’s castle.

In other words Rey must have had very limited knowledge of the world outside of Jakku and all she has heard from it are stories.

Rey who barely knows anything about the rest of the galaxy, to the point that she didn’t even know that forests existed what exactly is her personal stake in the current galactic conflict?

In TFA we saw The New Republic’s capital systems blown up by Starkiller Base and we never saw a reaction from Rey. We do see Finn and Han’s reactions. Also worth noting about Rey is that if she was unconscious throughout her involuntary travel to the Starkiller Base she was never actually aware of the Starkiller Base until just before Han, Finn and Chewie started planting the explosions in order to sabotage it.

Luke, while he had no personal attachments to Aldeeran did actually get to see the horrible aftermaths of it’s destruction.

But Rey was barely affected by the destruction of the Capital systems. Most characters were not as affected as they should have been in my opinion but we didn’t even get to see her have an emotional reaction to it.

This was probably the greatest genocide in Star Wars history and our main heroine is unaffected by it? Finn has a reaction to it and he’s supposedly NOT the main protagonist?

Rey really has no reason to care about the state of the galaxy. She only seems to care if people she knows are in danger.

The fact that she is supposed to be our main hero of this trilogy when she has next to no personal stakes in the well-being of the rest of the galaxy feels wrong to me.

Finn actually has stakes in this conflict since the FO took his family and childhood away from him and Poe has stakes because he actually lives in the New Republic and doesn’t want it to be under FO’s rule. Yet neither Finn nor Poe are considered the main protagonist? But oh wait, I forgot we can’t have a black or Latino man be the leading protagonist in Star Wars

The more I think about it is Rey has no goals or agency as a protagonist. She’s just whatever the plot demands her to be. Rey doesn’t actively take the initiative and make decisions, and simply react to the world around her. There is never a reason given as to why she wants to be a Jedi. Sure, she’s heard the stories about them, but she doesn’t dream to be one like Anakin, and the writers are so obsessed over her parents that they never develop any other motivation besides that. She has to be strung along the story so she can take part in it, hence she is repeatedly chased and kidnapped throughout TFA to get her to the Resistance where she decides to find Luke because she has nowhere else to go. Part of the reason she doesn’t even train with Luke is because she has no reason to, as she’s just supposed to find him. Rey joins the fight simply in reaction to learning that Luke is responsible for Ben’s fall. She’s only ever a Jedi and a member of the Resistance out of necessity- she has no where left to go and has to fight in self defense- so they try hamfist in some motives that she needs to stop herself from becoming like Palpatine but there is no tension as it’s the final act. By the end of the trilogy it’s not even clear if the Jedi Order will return because Rey never seems to want to be one and we can only assume they will return for meta reasons- because the audience knows the ST is a copypasta of the OT.

What exactly was Rey’s motivation for getting involved in the Galactic conflict before TROS? Luke was told that his father was killed by Darth Vader and later his family gets murdered by the empire so he had personal stakes to get involved in the conflict.

Anakin was a Jedi and had lived in the Republic for ten years by the time of the Clone Wars begun so he had personal reasons to get involved in the conflict.

Rey meanwhile grew up so isolated of Jakku that she had no idea forests existed and she didn’t lose anything and the FO attacked her on Jakku. In fact she wanted to return to Jakku after she had dumped BB-8 with the Resistance. Her primary motivation in TFA was to reunite with her family but the movie never establish that her family’s absence was connected to the galactic conflict in any way.

That connection isn’t established until TROS so what was her motivation until than? The Death of Han? A guy she had known for two hours? Finn? A guy she also had maybe only knew for about two hours total by the time of their hug in TLJ? Also she seemed to have completely forgotten about Finn by the time she want on a quest to redeem the guy that has far as she should have known by that point was still in a coma with his spine permanently damaged because of Kylo.

Rey’s motivation seems to either be finding her family or her dealing with her existential crisis neither had much of a connection with the galactic conflict until TROS

[swanpyart]

The Short Lived Adventures of RAPH and Casey Jones

This is an old pic that was made for a zine that was never published. So I’ll leave it here. It might not ever be finished, but I think the story is decent enough on its own.

Part 1:

Casey was completely fine by herself.

Sure, her parents never really paid her any mind, but she never needed them to; Casey was a fast learner, and was able to cook, clean, and do pretty much anything the adults could do.

“Look!” Ten-year-old Casey held up an English vocabulary test, with an “100%” written in the corner in cursive. “I passed!”

“Honey,” her mother barely looked at her from her seat at her desk, “One hundred percent is the bare minimum. Anything less means you practically failed.”

There was always an empty space in the bleachers whenever Casey had a hockey game. She would cross her arms as she waited for her parents to pick her up and watched as the people in the audience rushed down and hugged their own children after a game, regardless of whether they won or lost. When her parents finally showed up, she sat in the car quietly as they drove.

Casey spent almost everyday after school at her Granny’s while her parents were at work. The old woman’s house was always warm, mostly because she was always baking; cakes, cookies, and especially her famous brownies - made with a special ingredient.

At twelve years old, Casey had failed a math test for the first time, and burst into tears as she walked through her Granny’s front door. “I’m a failure!”

“Sweetie, everyone fails every now and then,” her Granny wiped a tear from Casey’s cheek and got out an antique mixing bowl, “but I can tell you tried really hard. That’s what matters; that you don’t stop trying your best.”

Afterwards, Casey and her Granny spent the afternoon baking brownies, and that was when she was granted the knowledge of the secret ingredient. She swore her secrecy and never told anyone.

Of course, that was a while ago; her grandmother had passed away sometime afterwards. Her parents reacted with more emotion when Casey had shaved her head than when they attended the funeral.

They also seemed only mildly surprised when, at thirteen years old, Casey was accepted into the Foot Clan and never came back home.

There, Casey promised to herself to show the world just how much of a not-failure she really is! Even if she had to work with the most vile Clan in all the world to achieve it and release the Shredder, the ultimate evil, unto the world. She had worked above and beyond to get where she is, and no one could stop her!

At least, that’s what she thought before the Shredder disappeared, and with him, the Clan’s purpose. And way before those strange, overgrown turtles with no sense of honor or discipline showed up and destroyed their chances, time and time again.

Suddenly, the group she had worked with since she was a preteen, and the closest thing she had to any family, were dragged away by outside obligations she never understood.

Foot Brute and Lieutenant were better parents than her own, but, in the end, they were her bosses and coworkers, and no replacement for a family.

Sure, everyone else may have given up, but she would stay committed to the Clan’s ultimate vision, even if she had to use her dear Granny’s recipe for evil. Grandma CJ’s Brownies were an absolute bust, but she had to try something.

Then, she met this weird, giant, smelly rat with a Japanese accent dressed like a teenager who somehow turned out to be the father of those overgrown turtles.

And, as weird as it was, despite not even being human, he sat next to her and heard what she had to say; and, for those few minutes, it was almost like being next to her Granny again.

“Just because you failed doesn’t make you a failure.”

If she had been smarter, maybe she should have listened a bit harder to what he was saying. If she had been smarter, maybe she would have calmed down and talked to the girl that was beating up the Girl Scouts. There were so many opportunities to just talk.

But then the Shredder was restored, and she really thought it would be the return of her Clan’s glory. Even as she looked at the beaten down forms of her previous bosses. Even as she saw Splinter and his family struggling for their lives. Even as she realized winning would mean the end of everything, including her.

There was no more Clan. She was still alone. She was just alone with a giant evil suit of demon armor.

But, now, she wasn’t.

Even after everything, Splinter offered her an invitation into their...

Family.

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He had invited her to the lair a few weeks after the fight with Shredder.

“I’m working at the Foot Shack. After my former clan disbanded, they got bought out by another company, Splinter, sir.” She squeezed the mug of tea in her hands.

“Just ‘Splinter’ is fine,” Splinter had opened a bag of chips, and was reclining in his seat. The turtles were out with April at the arcade, taking a break from repairing the lair. “Where are you staying? Do you have a place to live?”

“Yes, I actually have my own apartment.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. Splinter sighed. “Listen, Casey, I know that it’s probably hard having to... uh, sort things out by yourself-”

“What?! No, I’m fine!” She flapped her hand dismissively. “My life is fantastic! It’s definitely not in complete shambles after losing everything I know.” She blinked, realizing that she overshared, and collected herself. “I’m doing great.”

“I-I never said it was in shambles,” He massaged his temple with two clawed fingers, his beady eyes squinting in frustration. “Look, all I am saying is that, if you ever need help, or if you ever get lonely and just want to talk, I am here. And my sons would probably say the same thing. You’re a Hamato now, at least in spirit.”

Casey’s eyes widened, then she looked down. “Thank you, but I’m a very independent person. I’ll be sure to not bug you unless it’s an emergency.”

Splinter nodded, but he’d dealt with enough children to see that Casey was a bit lonely. Still, he said nothing.

For a good while, Casey stuck to what she said; she didn’t really come by the lair unless she really felt the need to or if they needed an extra set of hands with repairing.

But… occasionally, she found herself asking questions. She found out Michelangelo loved cooking, and somehow he got her to agree to bake her Granny’s brownies together. She realized that Leonardo wasn’t just annoying in battle, but all the time, and that she started getting more and more used to it, even occasionally laughing along. She found out while playing video games with them, that Donnatello was just as vicious as her, and that April was equally as competitive.

And Raph, well… they didn’t talk very much. But he seemed nice every time they spoke.

But she kept her distance. After all, it was better if she didn’t get too attached.

She occasionally goes down to the local hockey rink and plays a few rounds with total strangers, and usually gets kicked out due to a combo of delinquent children and complaining parents.

So, here she is, lying on her bed, staring blankly at her phone, with a half eaten sandwich laying on her chest, and old sweatpants that she’s been wearing for a week because her clothes are in the laundromat. For a ninja-slash-ex-cult-member, her life had fallen into a fairly mundane pattern.

Everything could always be worse. So why did she still feel like such a failure?

And for some reason, Casey found herself at the sewer grate. She didn’t even know why she came here, really.

She was about to turn back when a feminine voice spoke from behind her. “Hey, CJ, what’s up?”

She spun around. It was April.

“I was just coming to visit.” Casey tensed up. She hadn’t expected to run into someone else.

“Oh, me too!” She opened up the grate, and started climbing down the ladder. “You coming or what?”

Casey gulped. She couldn’t back out now.

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Raph paced the lair, quietly groaning as he tapped his chin.

It had been about six months since the fight with Shredder, but another challenge had presented itself; cleaning up the lair after it had been almost completely demolished. Thankfully, with Draxum’s help and Donnie being able to scavenge some old tech that didn’t get destroyed and whip up some devices for reconstruction, the place was finally fixed up after about a month and a half.

Now what? Well, in Leo’s words, it was the time for “rest and relaxation.”

That was pretty easy for the rest of his family to do.

Leo’s entire existence hinged on “rest and relaxation”; Mikey has an assortment of hobbies to keep him busy; Donnie had a tight schedule trying to repair all of his broken inventions; April was trying to adjust to all of the changes at school due to all of New York recovering from the recent Battle Nexus catastrophe; and Splinter, of course, was parked in front of the TV, finally at peace after the Shredder was defeated, and helping himself to milk and cake.

Raph should be relaxing, or at least recovering from all that’s happened to them. The fight with the Shredder was the most stressful and terrifying time of their lives. They lost their Gram-Gram, and even if she was now able to rest with their ancestors and her father, it still stung.

But it’s been such a long time since he’s been in a real fight, and he can tell he’s going a little bit stir-crazy.

Of course, the turtles would spend a lot of time out of the lair; but whenever Raph gets a call on the phone, he finds himself hoping it’s some kind of an emergency, only to turn out to be Todd calling them about the puppy farm, or Leo pestering Senior Hueso with an order for pick-up. It seemed like even their strongest enemies have gone on hiatus as well; there was no word of Big Mama as of late, and every other major bad guy they fought recently seemed to have been exhausted by the Shredder ordeal as well.

Raph’s usual sparring partner, Frankenfoot, is absolutely wonderful, but fighting him wasn’t exactly what Raph had in mind; it was fun, but couldn’t really be compared to the thrill of a real fight.

“Come on, guys,” Raph stood in front of the screen, blocking Leo and Mikey’s view of a Jupiter Jim rerun while Pops was passed out on the couch, snoring, a bag of chips lying open on his stomach. “We’ve been cooped up in the lair for a million years. Who wants to go wreck some bad guys?” He pounded his fist in his opposite hand for emphasis.

“Raph, I can’t see!” Mikey waved his hand in a dismissive way as he said it, and leaned to peek around his older brother and continue watching the screen.

“Ugh, we’ve been over this,” Leo exasperated from his spot on the ground, on his stomach and his head resting on his propped arms. “No crime fighting while we’re on vacation! This is the time to chillax, my guy.”

“How long are we gonna be chillaxing, exactly?” Raph put his hands on his hips, an inquisitive look on his face, even if, deep down, he knew what response he’d get.

“I don’t know, until some other crazy evil mutant guy tries to take over the city? There’s bound to be another one of those eventually.”

“What, so we just wait until some evil mastermind has some evil plan and gets all of New York in their evil clutches? It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Raph tried to summon the energy he usually exudes when he attempts to make a rousing speech, but the rolling eyes and groans from his youngest brothers quickly made its effect futile.

“You know,” Donnie said from the back of the room, the other three having not noticed him walk in, “We did, oh, I don’t know, save all of New York City, take down Big Mama’s Battle Nexus scheme, and, most importantly, defeat our bloodline’s greatest enemy?!”

Raph furrowed his brow, his sharp fang digging into his lower lip.

“We deserve an indefinite break, and I need it, because I actually refuse to do any fighting until I have all my stuff back online. I’d love to fight with only my impeccable mind, but let’s be realistic.” The sandwich in his hand was brought to his face and he swallowed it whole. Donnie knew he had made an excellent point.

“Don’t worry,” Mikey beamed, tucking his arms and legs into his shell, “We’ll get back into the groove of things before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, “Think of it as, like, you know, self-care. Sometimes, you need a break from what you’re used to. Now, can you move out of the way?”

Raph sulked out of his siblings’ view of the screen and sunk into a beanbag, next to the couch their father was snoring in.

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“Hey, guys!” The turtles turn around to see April and... Foot Recruit walk in.

Raph didn’t really know what to think of Foot Recruit, or Casey, as she preferred to be called. Pops insisted that she wasn’t dangerous anymore, but it was hard for him not to be a little wary; I mean, come on, she used to work with the Shredder!

 She’d been over only a handful of times over the past few months, usually to speak with Splinter and Mikey.

“Casey! April!” Mikey stuck his hands out of his shell in joy. He ran over and hugged them both. “It’s been a while.”

“Hey, Apes. And, hi to you too, Casey.” Leo kicked his legs up behind him.

“Above ground has been pretty hectic,” April leaned on Donnie’s shoulder as she spoke, “Everyone has been freaking out about disappearing from New York for a few days. Relaxing on a yacht sure beats coming back to the city in shambles. And finding another job is so hard when everyone’s paranoid we’re gonna all disappear again. Ugh, I wish we did, then I’d get another break!”

“Well, if you want a job, you can help me repair what’s left of my s- I mean, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. The Shredder tore him apart.” Donnie put his hands on his hips and relaxed his posture to cover his slip-up.

“Aw, your cute robot son isn’t repaired yet?” April teased.

As the two bickered while walking towards the lab, Raph looked back at Casey, who was standing by the entrance, visibly tense. 

“Hey, Casey. Um, why are you here?” Raph asked innocently, not realizing how rude he sounded.

“Smooth,” Leo chimed in unhelpfully.

Before he could take it back, Casey spoke, with a glare on her face. “I’m here for the orange one.”

Raph blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re gonna bake brownies!” Mikey clarified, his chest puffed out with pride. “Casey decided that I’m worthy of learning an old family recipe.”

“Yes!” Casey grinned, in a way that was far too menacing for someone talking about brownies. “I decided that, as a new member of your- um…” clan? Group? Committee?

“...Family?” Raph assisted.

“Uh, yes, that,” she turned shy for a few brief seconds, only to return to her previous bravado, pumping her fist in the air, “I will honor you with the knowledge of my grandmother’s most nefarious secret!”

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

Raph peeked into the kitchen as Mikey and Casey got to work. Of course, he trusted Mikey; but he had a hunch that Casey might be up to something.

Or maybe the boredom was just making him a bit more paranoid than usual.

Dirty dishes, half-full cups and brownie mix were strewn about the kitchen counter. Whatever this recipe pertained, it must be pretty intense.

“And, now, for the final ingredient. This one was given to me by my grandmother.” Casey pulled a canister of brown powder. She leaned over and whispered close to Mikey’s head. Whatever she was saying, Raph couldn’t hear.

Mikey gasped. “PUMPKIN SPICE?!”

Casey shushed him, then yelled herself. “It’s a secret, remember?!” She poured a generous amount into the mixing bowl full of batter.

The two of them looked so happy baking together, and Raph felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for assuming the worst. He really needed to chill out.

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“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Leo sunk into the bean bag chair, “You’re a fan of Lou Jitsu, right?”

“That is correct.” Casey was sitting stiffly in her seat. Her expressions were intense, like she was about to strangle someone, but Raph had realized pretty quickly that this was just her default.

“You have all of the movies memorized?”

“Of course! I used his guidelines for self improvement in my schemes to take over the world! I mean, that’s not really relevant now, but-”

“And you said you spend almost all of your available money on Lou Jitsu merch?”

“I hide them all so my guests don’t see.”

“And, yet, you’ve never watched a Jupiter Jim film? The Jupiter Jim, his longtime franchise rival and co-star in Jupiter Jim Vs Lou Jitsu?” Leo clutched at his chest, as he held up the DVD case of the movie he was talking about for emphasis.

“Leo,” Raph warned, looking up from his phone, “don’t make her feel bad-”

Leo chuckled. “Oh ho ho, trust me I won’t. I’m definitely putting on a Jupiter Jim Vs. The Galaxy Riders Part 1 and Part 2, and you are going to love it!”

Casey cackled ominously. “You really think this ‘Jupiter Jim-’” She made quotation marks with her fingers for emphasis, “-can measure up to the greatness that is Lou Jitsu? Fine, I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Raph ended up dozing off after the fifth film, and woke up to see Casey and his brother still openly debating whether Lou Jitsu would beat Jupiter Jim if they were both in a desert completely unarmed and at full strength.

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“I’m not scared of much,” Donnie mentions offhandedly one day, while Raph was doing a bicep curl, “but she -”

He points to Casey eating a sandwich like a hyena, while April sat next to her, texting.

“She terrifies me to no end.”

Donnie’s strange relationship with their new friend took Raph a while to comprehend. Then it became clear as day. If anyone could match Casey in moral ambiguity, it was his immediate younger brother.

“I made you a little gift,” the softshell grinned smugly, as he handed Casey what looked like a metal hockey stick.

“Oh, um,” Casey's eyes were wide, and a little watery, and her lips were in a warbly smile. “Thank you… no one’s ever given me something so nice.”

Donnie grinned. “Press the button on the side.”

When she did, the widest end of the hockey stick flipped open like a lighter, and a stream of fire shot out of the tip. Casey’s tears of joy gave way to maniacal laughter. “Those kids at the hockey rink won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Donnie joined her in glee, his eyes and teeth shining menacingly in the light of the flames. Raph watched in mild horror (He was plenty used to Donnie’s antics), at least until the fire alarm sounded and they were all drenched from the sprinklers.

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

Another month had passed since Casey started coming around, and Raph seemed like the only one in the lair who hadn’t quite jived with her yet. Sure, his suspicion had pretty much subsided, and he liked her company plenty, but the two of them hadn’t really clicked.

However, he noticed some slight changes over time. Casey’s eyes had bags under them which were more obvious in brighter lights, and sometimes she fell asleep on April’s shoulder (and snored louder than his Pops, somehow). Sometimes, there were hints of sadness on her face, even when she was laughing along with everyone.

Raph didn’t mention it for fear of being rude, but he couldn’t help his concern. After all, if she was upset, she probably wouldn’t mention to him all of the people.

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Hockey wasn’t a sport Raph and his brothers knew much about, but he couldn’t help but get excited as Casey gushed about it, holding tightly onto the treasured tech-hockey stick Donnie had gifted her, wearing a huge grin on her face.

The two humans and four turtles (disguised as humans, of course) were just entering the hockey rink. The hall to the auditorium was cold and echoey.

“I come here every other Friday. The regulars here know my face, and they fear it. It’s ‘cause they know I’ll decimate everyone in my path!” She pumped her fist as she spoke, a sinister grin on her face, before she caught herself and straightened out. “Well, I do until the rink’s supervisors kick me out for making a scene and being mean to children.”

“Don’t sweat it, Casey,” Donnie spoke up, “You’re not the only one whose been kicked out of establishments for scaring kids.”

“Uh huh, exactly!” April agreed a bit too eagerly, and Raph looked back to see the distant, traumatized look in her eyes, and he could tell she was remembering the screams of children and the  sinister laughter of animatronics at a certain pizza joint.

The six teens got to the rink’s auditorium, and put their bags down on the bleachers. There weren’t too many people around.

Mikey whistled. “This place is massive!”

As Raph put on a maroon hoodie and pulled on his skates, Casey rolled onto the rink, over to a huddle of teenagers wearing hockey gear. “Hey!”

One of the teenagers - a boy with messy brown hair covering his eyes - responded. “Oh, you again. Guys, look, it’s that crazy girl from last week.”

“The name is Cassandra Jones!” Casey pulled down the hockey mask she was wearing and held up her stick. “I’m challenging you to another round! Did you really think you’d escape my wrath?!”

The kids started laughing. “You challenge us every time we’re here, and you always lose. What makes today so different?”

Casey laughed. “Well, for one thing, I’ve got my own team now, so you better get ready to go crying to your mommy!”

The group hadn’t stopped laughing, even as Casey walked back to the bleachers. Raph raised a brow. “Uh, what was all of that?”

She looked down. “Those are my enemies,” She clenched her fists, “A group of jerks who manage to beat me every time I come here.”

Raph paused for a second. The look on her face was determined, but had a hint of sadness to it. Raph understood how she felt; wanting to fight, but getting beaten down time and time again. He’d realized a while ago that he didn’t have to do it alone; and neither did she.

Raph put an arm around Casey’s shoulders, and cupped a hand to his mouth, shouting to the teenagers from across the rink. “Hey, knuckleheads! You get ready for a match; you’re not just dealing with Cassandra Jones anymore! you’re dealing with the Mad Dogs, now!”

“Yeah, right!” One of the kids, a girl with a ponytail, shouts back.

He turned to face his brothers and April, who were sitting on the bleachers, their attention already on Raph from his shouting. “Hey, those guys over there are saying we’re gonna lose! What do we say to that?!”

“Oh ho ho, I like this energy!” Leo stood up on the bleachers, joining in the hype. April and Mikey stood up beside him.

“Yeah, you chumps aren’t even at our level!”

“Ya’ll ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Donnie stood up slowly, his arms crossed from the cold. “Yeah, we’ll definitely beat you! But-” He switched to his normal volume, “let’s not make promises we can’t keep.”

Raph dismissed him, and looked at Casey, who was smiling. Together, they were able to beat the Shredder. This would be a piece of cake.

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“Are we done? My mom is here to pick me up,” One of the kids, a girl with pigtails, mentioned as she walked towards her belongings on the bleachers.

Raph was gasping for air from his spot on the cold ground. Hockey was hard. Like, really, really hard.

In hindsight, their loss made sense; this was the turtles and April’s first time playing hockey, and even Casey, who’d been playing since she was a kid, wasn’t able to beat these kids. They really were just that good.

“Is that all you’ve got?!” Leo had fallen in front of the goal, two huge purple bruises visible on his face; one on his forehead, and the other under his eye, popping out from his green skin and red birthmarks.  

Mikey was crying on his knees, while April patted his shell, cussing out one of the kids who she felt pushed him too hard. Even as the kid was walking away. “And another thing-”

Donnie lay flat nearby, looking like a purple stain on the white shiny floor. He was never good at sports, but he tried. Geez, it was almost more embarrassing, with just how hard he tried.

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

They found a vending machine, and after Raph gave Leo a cold soda can to hold over his bruises, he walked past Casey, sitting with her head in her hands.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked around to see if the others were watching. April, Mikey and Donnie were going off about losing the match, while Leo sat dejectedly in the corner, nursing his injuries. “Are you alright?”

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and her lower lip wobbling. She hastily rubbed at her face with her sleeve, her eyeliner smearing. “I’m...I’m fine.”

“Is this about us losing?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” She sighed. “It’s a lot of different things- It’s just…”

She trailed off, and Raph sat down next to her on the bleacher. He realized this had definitely been bubbling up for a while. If only he’d talked to her sooner.

“Ugh, all I’ve ever wanted was to be a success. Taking over the world was everything for me- helping the Foot, working for the Shredder, making that whole brownie pyramid-scheme. But now? I don’t have anything. I’ve hit rock bottom. Now, I’m stuck in a stupid rivalry with a bunch of kids in a hockey rink.”

She began to cry again. “What am I going to do? Am I just doomed to be a failure?”

“Just ‘cause you’re not taking over the world doesn’t make you a failure. Most people just stick to regular, everyday stuff and they turn out fine.”

“It’s not just about taking over the world,” Casey sighed. “I don’t have a purpose. No Clan, no commitments, no future. It’s like everything I do is a failure. I’m a failure.”

Raph felt himself start to tear up, too. What she was saying felt way too familiar. “You’re not the only one whose failed.”

“Huh?”

“My Pops told us we were supposed to die in order to protect the Dark Armor. We failed to do that, but we realized how messed up that was, and we decided to do our own thing. And it totally worked out for us, ‘cause we ended up destroying Shred-face once and for all.”

He stood, wiping the small tears from the corners of his eyes. “Think about it. So what that you don’t got a purpose? I get it, but your ‘purpose’ was handed to you by those Foot-faces. What do you wanna do? What do you wanna succeed at?”

Casey sat quietly for a few moments, thinking, and Raph feared that he might have said something hurtful. He was never as savvy with people as Leo or Mikey.

Then she spoke. “I spent all of my life trying to be the best, even if it meant being the biggest bad guy in the world. Now, I want to be the best good guy!”

Her expression softened. “I guess what I really want - I want to stop people who were like me once. I want to stop evil people who want to control others. But...how?”

Raph thought. Then, an idea struck him. “You and me can team up!”

“For what?”

“I was a vigilante for a little while. I mean, I used to be, but I guess since I was already part of a team, and with the whole Shredder thing, I just sort of stopped. But, since my bros are on hiatus, you and me could fight crime undercover!”

Casey was looking at her lap, her head bowed. Raph cleared his throat. “I mean, only if you wanna, it’s just a suggestion-”

“That sounds amazing.” Casey looked up at him in awe, her dark eyes glossy with unshed tears. Suddenly, she stands up, and pumps a fist into the air. “Raph and Casey, the most feared vigilante duo in all of New York!”

“Yeah, Go big or go home!”  Raph pounded his fist into his other hand in excitement.

“Oh me gosh, stop yelling!” The two look behind them to Leo, still holding the can to his face. He turned in the direction of his twin. “Donnie, get me another can! This one’s warm!”

Casey was giving him a big smile, a far cry from her previous mood. Raph smiled back. Finally, he’d be able to go out and fight crime again; and this time, he wouldn’t be at it alone.