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amjustagirl · 3 years

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Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.9k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Author’s Note: And we’re at the final chapter! Thank you so much for going on this wild ride with me, and I’m rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!!

It takes time and effort to rebuild a home wrecked by a storm, and reconstruction efforts aren’t necessarily smooth sailing, especially at the start - after all, he’s still the same Miya Atsumu, arrogant and brash and foulmouthed and hyper focused on volleyball, and they both have baggage from years of regret and pain to work through. But he has determination to spare, and she loves him too much for her own good, so they start from the very foundation and work their way up, step by step, one day at a time.

‘I’ll kill ya if ya ever hurt her again’, Osamu threatens darkly when she and Atsumu break the news to him.

‘Go find yer own girl and stop being sweet on my wife damn it! ’ Atsumu growls, but the kiss he presses to her forehead when she smacks the back of his head for being mean to his twin is achingly sweet.

‘Ugh, soppy. Get yer shit outta my house!’ Osamu scrunches his face in mock disgust.

Both brothers are surprised when she beats Atsumu at flipping Osamu off.

Atsumu moves back home (he’s not even going to hide how happy the sound of that makes him), and they mark the occasion by slipping his wedding ring back on his finger and eating take-out pizza on the living room floor.

Her burly brothers turn up on their doorstep with a glint in their eyes and too much teeth in their smiles, determined to drag Atsumu off for a couple of drinks and what she assumes will be a very unpleasant chat. She’d insisted on patting them down to make sure they’re not packing any knives - ‘what do you take us for, little sis’, they’d protested - but she’s not taking any chances, and begs Osamu to join them, ‘please ‘Samu, I don’t want to be a widow right after I decide not to divorce his ass’, and he agrees despite grumbling that he might as well be Atsumu’s glorified babysitter at this rate.

She’d woken up in bed the next morning to find the space beside her empty, but the living room crammed full of those four silly men. Atsumu and Osamu share a single futon between them, snoring back to back. There are faint bruises on Atsumu’s cheekbone and telltale scrapes on her own brothers’ knuckles, but otherwise they all seem relatively unscathed.

She bends over, tracing her thumb along the contour of Atsumu’s jaw, and he stirs, eyes half lidded with sleep.

‘Hey darlin', I’ve come home’, he tells her, warmth flickering in his smile.

‘Welcome home, 'Tsumu’, she says, tucking the blanket under his chin and he hums in contentment, falling back asleep.

His nightmares of brown envelopes and harsh neon lights distorting her face slowly fade, and he dreams instead of weeknight dinners and weekend picnics at the park, relishing the quiet domesticity of grocery trips and laundry loads, and delighting in home games with her and Shino cheering him on.

Some piss poor excuse of a gossip hound corners him after a match to ask him about whether he regrets leaving for Milan since his season ended in injury - and he freezes when the reporter slyly adds ‘especially since we all knew it’s a move that required you to leave your wife and daughter behind ‘. His manager is about to intervene when she sneaks up on him to slide an arm around his waist, apologising to the reporter that ‘she’s just so excited to give her husband a congratulatory kiss!’ .

Sakusa and Meian have to join forces to pull Atsumu back from punching the reporter when he grins shark-like, thinking he’s spotted easy prey and asks her whether she felt abandoned in Japan due to his move - ‘pardon me Miya-san for my unwieldy choice of words’.

‘Not at all’, she says without missing a beat, and Atsumu wonders if he imagines the flash of a knife in her smile. ‘I’ve always supported my husband in all his endeavours. It was a joint decision that I should stay in Japan to ensure our daughter has some stability in her life.'

‘She’s good’, his manager tells him when the reporter slinks away with his tail between his legs.

‘Yeah - I don’t deserve her’, he answers with a rueful smile.

When he tries to thank her that night, she levels him with a look that could knock a grown man (i.e. him) off his feet, but her voice is gentle and her words are soft.

‘Don’t thank me’, she says. ‘Just be a better husband and father, ok?’

He’s not ashamed to admit that he actually cries.

He learns to tell her he loves her at least once a day. She starts to smile back cheekily and reply ‘of course’.

The game is in between sets when the skin at the back of his neck crackles with nerves. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Osamu sprinting right into the stands. Then his ears pick up on his little girl’s scream - ‘mama’ she cries, her shrill voice ringing above the confusion rippling through the crowd and his legs move of their own accord, leaping over the barrier into the audience, as he snarls and shoves his way to her usual spot.

He thought he’s had his fill of nightmares to last him a lifetime. He’s evidently wrong.

She lies crumpled on the ground, head resting on Osamu’s lap. Her lips are pale and her eyes are closed but thank god - thank whichever deity’s listening - her chest still moves with her breath. He’s not quite sure what happens next - he knows he dives to his knees and pulls her towards him but everything else is a blur until her eyes flutter open and she groans.

‘Darlin’, can ya hear me? Can ya tell me where you are?’ he asks, forcing his voice to remain calm.

‘Tsumu? Why are you here? Aren’t you in the middle of a game?’ she murmurs, confused.

‘Fuck the game’, he snaps. ‘Are ya feelin' ok?’

‘Something hurts, Tsumu’, she rasps, eyes glazing over. He can feel the chill of ice seep into his spine.

'Yer fine, yer fine, yer going to be fine' he mutters, over and over and over again, willing her to sit up and tell him she's fine, she's ok, she'll just shake it off - but light starts to shutter out of her eyes and frost creeps up his throat.

‘I need a medic!’ he shouts, voice cracking on every word. ‘I need a medic, now!’

‘Tsumu’, he hears his brother interrupt urgently. ‘Tsumu, she’s bleedin’.

He’s never been more grateful for Osamu when his twin turns to yell for an ambulance and yanks Shino away with him. The little girl is kicking and screaming for her mama but he knows she would kill him if he lets their little girl be traumatised from seeing her mama lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

He can’t breathe - not even when the medics finally come and whisk her off to the hospital, his mind hardly able to process anything, terror still coursing through his veins when the doctors press brown envelopes full of forms into his bloodstained hands for him to sign so the relevant procedures can be carried out.

‘Don’t!’ Osamu says sharply, when he drops his head into his hands and starts to whimper about how he’ll die if he loses her again and what the fuck is he gonna do, ‘Samu, if she doesn’t make it out alive – ‘she’s stronger than ya think, don’t ya dare give up on her like that’, and he promptly shuts up after that. Time in the waiting room passes agonizingly slow, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes stretching into hours, and he would have drowned from the weight of his despair if he weren’t anchored in place by his twin’s hand on his back.

His breath rushes back into his lungs when the doctors later tell him she’s fine, they carried out the standard operation - but she doesn’t look fine, doesn’t seem fine, is very clearly not fine when they wheel her out, huddled into a ball with her head between her knees, like her world has just collapsed into itself. She doesn’t even look up when he sits beside her, the bed dipping under his weight.

‘I’m sorry’, she eventually says, voice barely a whisper, and he fights the urge to break down into tears – because ‘Samu’s right, she’s so much stronger than he thinks. They'd been talking about trying for a sibling for Shino for some time now, since they've both grown up with brothers of their own and can't imagine life without them. But the doctors tell him that it’s just bad luck - the baby was never going to survive, and her collapse was probably exacerbated by stress, overwork, perhaps even fatigue from her skipping lunch for work and dinner to rush to his match.

‘Don’t be. It’s not yer fault at all’, he manages to pull himself together to reassure her, but she just stares blankly at the wall.

His grandmother calls when they find out the baby they lost would have been a boy, and he fails her again when he’s too late to snatch the phone away before the old lady’s poison drips into her ears and traps her in a deadly fog. He’d cursed the old bitch out relentlessly, but the toxic words fester beneath her skin and she fades into a ghost before his eyes. He desperately tries to stop her spiral into frozen silence, but he’s away for games more than half the time, hands tied behind his back by the stranglehold of contracts and commitments he has no choice but to fulfil.

He’s never been so thankful before when the season finally ends - but he is, at least this time, so he can talk her into taking two weeks off from work. They drop Shino off with her indulgent grandparents, and drift down the coast on the back of her bike. She doesn’t try breaking any speed limits - and he knows he should be happy about that, but there’s no spark in her eyes, no smile to answer the wind - there hasn’t been, not since she collapsed.

(not since they lost their child)

He buys her mochi at every town, but she picks at it listlessly, just like she does these days when Osamu tries to tempt her with his latest creations. He insists they stay at ryokans, traditional inns with onsens attached, hoping the heat from the water might chase the chill from her bones, but colour does not return to her cheeks. There are shadows beneath her eyes, and she seems to wilt under the vibrant red and gold of autumn leaves.

They go for a walk after dinner one night, tracing a path along the shore. He’d been talking non-stop the entire trip to mask the gaps left by her silence, but tonight he falls quiet, allowing the hum of the waves to wash over them. Her hand is cold in his, so he wraps his jacket around her shoulders and hopes the warmth from his body bleeds into hers.

She comes to a standstill, feet sinking in the sand, and tilts her head to face him.

‘Tsumu?’, she breathes, a question in her eyes.

‘I’m here’, he says, a prayer in his heart.

There is a lighthouse on the cliff just a few miles ahead, illuminating the shadows of the waves. The faintest reflection of light pools in her eyes, and he stills as she lifts her gaze to meet his.

‘I know’, she says, offering him the smallest of smiles.

He interlaces their fingers together firmly, and tugs her towards shelter, as a storm brews over the horizon.

That night she tucks her head under his chin, and he holds her until she falls asleep, cradled in his arms. He keeps slumber at bay by counting her breaths, and only falls asleep himself when the storm breaks.

'Why did I wake up to a blonde octopus wrapped around me', she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep.

'Nah. More like a seahorse, cos I'm not letting ya go, sweetheart', he replies, tightening his grip on her waist. 'Ya got a problem with that?'

Her only response is to burrow herself deeper into his chest.

'Guess not', he chuckles fondly, nuzzling his nose into her hair, hope blossoming anew in his heart.

Time turns their wounds into scars and they heal together, one breath at a time.

She stays away from their first few matches when the season begins again. The press is coerced into passing over reports of her collapse by the dual forces of the MSBY press machine and their legal team, but they are forced to ride out the gossip generated in internet forums by a fringe group of deranged fans. His teammates treat her like she’s made of glass - even Bokuto dials himself down a notch, all save for Shoyo, who slips her his mother’s number, telling her gently that the six year gap between him and Natsu wasn’t deliberate, and that she would find a sympathetic ear in the older woman.

He knew he was right to anoint Shoyo as his favourite wing spiker - not only does he fly high enough to answer the demand of every single one of his sets, but his sunniness drags her out of the fog into yoga classes and meditation practices, and slowly but surely he watches her bloom again. It’s a powerful combination - Shoyo-kun’s friendship and his mother’s gentle conversations, Osamu’s cooking and her love for Shino, capped with his determination to show her he loves her and prove that he’s here to stay.

‘It’s like Kintsugi’, she tells him, with a wide smile. ‘All of you poured gold into the cracks of my heart and made me whole again’.

The years pass.

Shino turns seven – a very respectable age for his very best girl, he tells her (I'm your only girl, Papa, Shino informs him archly), and obliges her demands of a bicycle in MSBY colours and volleyball lessons, forcing all his teammates to turn up for her birthday party, volleyball themed of course. The look of unadulterated joy on his princess’ face is worth every ounce of effort to put up with Sakusa’s complaints at having to turn up for a kiddie party full of loud noises and far too much candy, and the sweaty afternoons spent hand painting the bicycle black and gold.

The day Atsumu discovers his first white hair makes her thank her lucky stars that she’s immune to his nonsense by now, because the wailing and gnashing of teeth she has to put up with makes ‘Samu offer her his couch as refuge. She slaps tape and salonpas on his aches and pains, and points to the deepening lines on her face when he complains about his age.

‘Those lines aren’t wrinkles. If they’re caused by laughter, it doesn’t count’, he reasons laughingly. She’s left befuddled by his logic and shakes her head.

Meian Shugo retires, and Hinata throws a party to celebrate in his honour, cramming the entire MSBY team and assorted friends into his penthouse apartment on a rainy Saturday night. Osamu’s hired to cater the food but remains as a guest, shooting a smirk at him when Shoyo drags her off to dance during his favourite song, twin flames burning bright in the night.

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ she asks, when Shoyo returns with her breathless but wreathed with smiles.

‘Was just wondering when you were gonna save a dance for this old man’, he teases.

‘Oh?’ she says with a laugh. ‘Thought you said your back hurt, and you didn’t want to move?’

‘Meh - I was hoping you’d forget that’, he says airily, then frowns when he notices there’s no drink in her hand.

‘Not drinking tonight, sweetheart?’, he asks, curling his fingers around her empty hand.

‘The doctor warned me not too’, she answers, her smile growing impossibly wider. He blinks in confusion when she leans on to her toes to whisper into his ear - then oh.

‘You’re pregnant?’ he repeats, unable to trust his ears, eyes filling with tears when she bites her lips and nods.

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’, she asks, her face alight with hope.

There is so much he wants to say to her, starting with thank you loving me enough to give me another chance all those years ago and ending with I love you, so ridiculously much – because he can never say it enough, she’s given him more than he deserves – her heart, Shino, a happy home and now the promise of another child.

But there's salt and water welling up in his throat, and it’s all he can do to choke out a shaky ‘of course’, before gathering her in his arms, warmth pooling in his eyes, love overflowing in his heart.

They stay that way for most of the night, entwined in each other’s arms, so drunk on happiness and love and warmth that they don’t even notice the storm clearing and the moon rising in the clear night sky.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #inarizaki #haikyuucreations

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loki-hargreeves · 3 years

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Klaus Hargreeves x Reader - Kidnapped

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of torture, blood, vulgar language, angst, hurt/comfort Word Count: 7,8K Summary: Instead of Klaus getting kidnapped by Hazel and Cha-Cha, they kidnap you. Klaus wants to find you before it’s too late. Author’s Note: I started writing this at 4 AM so keep that in mind. Anyway, I hope you like it! :)

YOUR POV

“I’ll ask you one more time, and you better answer me, because I am getting sick and tired of your games!” The masked woman yelled at you, which she and her partner had done for hours now. Their questions were ringing in your head and you were exhausted, which almost made you forget about just how terrified you felt.

“Where’s Five?” She asked you again. How many times she had done so, you weren’t sure. You had lost count after the first ten or so attempts.

Tears ran down your face as you sat there, tied down to a chair. There was a piece of tape on your mouth and it barely stuck to your skin at this point. It had been torn off a few times so the glue had dried, just like the blood on your skin.

Her partner, the man walked over to you and removed the tape, which meant you had to answer them. Shivers ran down your spine as you tried to think, think, think! If you told them anything at all, that could put Klaus and his family in danger. It was the last thing you wanted to happen. You were afraid that they would kill you soon if they didn’t get what they wanted.

“Spit it out, we don’t have all day!” The man was impatient. He wasn’t as aggressive as the woman, but terrifying nonetheless. Their masks were creepy and you knew that if you’d survive, you’d see them in your nightmares. You remembered that he was the reason you were there in the first place. The sight of him made you angry, but you didn’t express it.

“I p-promise you, I don’t know,” You whimpered quietly, afraid your answer would disappoint them and they would torture you again. They had waterboarded you earlier which had been the worst part so far. Although it felt like they were pushing you over the edge soon, you were impressed with yourself. It had been hours now and they had barely learned anything at all.

To your surprise, you didn’t get injured, at least not yet. The lady stood up straight and sighed, giving her partner a look of disappointment - you could tell, even without seeing her face.

“Bathroom, now!” She tilted her head toward the small bathroom in the motel room. Relief washed over your body when you watched them disappear from your sight. Even if it was for a moment, it meant they wouldn’t torment you.

How long had you been there?

It felt like days by now since you had been at the umbrella academy, although it had only been several hours. You had just been there with Klaus. Usually, you would have been at your apartment, but he had been at the academy with his family after their father’s death. You had been there for him through it all, which had come to no one’s surprise.

Klaus had been bathing as you had fallen asleep in his childhood bedroom. The next thing you knew, you were woken up by gunshots which had scared you. Before you had managed to escape, the man had found you. You had tried to fight him, but he was stronger and more experienced in combat. When he had grabbed you by your neck to choke you unconscious, you thought you had seen your last days. But oh how wrong you were.

They had taken you to a motel as a hostage. Why? They must’ve thought you were part of Klaus' family. You were just there for Klaus, you didn’t know anything about Five’s mysterious return or what he was up to. Not that you’d let them know. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have had a reason to keep you alive.

As they were in the bathroom, you tried to free yourself from the chair. They had tied your arms and legs down tightly and by now you could hardly feel your fingertips. No matter how hard you pulled and tugged your limbs, it didn’t do much. You were stuck and you felt hopeless. What were you supposed to do? If you yelled for help, they would certainly shoot you. They kept guns on them at all times which you had noticed.

Tears of frustration washed down your face. To keep quiet, you bit your lips together and tasted blood which made you sick to your stomach.

Were the others alright?

Was Klaus okay?

You knew that your disappearance must’ve been hard for him. He had been struggling for a while now and this wouldn’t help either of you at all. The stress must’ve been a heavy burden on his shoulders. Oh, if only you could be in his arms instead of that torturous hell you were in for now.

After another miserable attempt of freeing yourself and failing, you felt like screaming but it took every ounce of strength you had to not do that. If you wanted to survive, you had to stay focused and strong. When you felt like giving up, you only thought of Klaus and remembered what you were fighting for.

Eventually, you heard their footsteps and soon enough, the two of them were standing beside you again. You were surprised to see them without their masks. It made everything so much more real. They were people too and they were capable of hurting you and others in monstrous ways. What did they want to do with Five? You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer to that. It couldn’t be good.

As the lady stayed with you, you noticed that the man was rummaging through your stuff. You had been wearing a jacket when he found you in the hallway. After you heard the gunshots at the academy, you had tried to find Klaus and escape. You had only grabbed your jacket when you left his room. Now the man was going through your things and you wondered if he'd find anything useful.

“What were you doing with those freaks?” She changed the way she approached you. Although it was a harmless question, it worried you.

“I was visiting my friend,” You explained, giving away as little information as possible. It was hard to keep eye contact with her, but looking away would’ve made you seem like a liar, so you forced yourself to face her.

“A friend?” The man seemed doubtful. He returned to you with your wallet, holding it open to show a picture of you and Klaus that you kept in it. Seeing it made your heart swell with both affection and pain.

“Last time I checked, friends didn’t look so cosy around each other,” He glanced at the photo again. You had taken it a few years previously when you and Klaus had been to a music festival. You both had silly makeup on and you were kissing his cheek in the picture. You looked happy.

The woman glanced at it as well and after a while, she smiled. “Is he your boyfriend? Husband?”

“Does it matter?” You didn’t want to talk about Klaus. The less they knew about him, the better.

“It seems like he matters a lot to you,” She stated the obvious. By now, she could tell you were afraid of them finding out about him. But she wasn’t dumb. She already knew Klaus was important to you and she couldn’t wait to use that against you. It was all fun and games for them.

“Who is he to Five?”

The words got stuck in your throat. Suddenly, you felt just as troubled as you did a few moments ago. They were onto something and you didn’t know what to do.

“Answer me!” She snapped, making you flinch.

“Okay!” You quickly stated something to avoid further disappointing them. “He’s...he’s Five’s brother.”

“Ah,” She seemed pleased to hear that. She and her partner shared another silent look, almost like they spoke to each other with facial expressions alone. “So you’re sleeping around with Five’s brother?”

You couldn’t imagine how that was relevant to them. You didn’t feel the need to answer her.

The man grabbed your jacket and tried to find anything else from your pockets. He didn’t seem too interested in the photo anymore. The way he was acting was strange. It felt like he didn’t even want to be there, not really.

“Okay, okay,” She was thinking out loud. “What has Five been up to? You’re obviously aware of who he is so don’t play stupid with us again.”

You remembered when you heard of Five’s return. For as long as you had known Klaus, Five hadn’t been in the picture. All that you knew was that he was missing. Klaus had told you about the day it happened and how life had been afterwards.

When you learned that Five had returned, you were shocked. It was even more shocking to see him like that. He still looked like a kid! If you hadn’t been with Klaus and around the others for so long, it would’ve surely been harder to believe.

“Hello? Don’t make me break your fingers!”

You didn’t hesitate for a second that she wasn't joking around with that statement.

“I don’t know! He showed up a few days ago and he hasn’t spoken much to anyone since,” You were honest. Five had been busy ever since he returned. It was odd, but you didn’t feel like you were in a position to question his actions. After all, you barely knew him.

“Why is that?” The man had given up searching for clues in your jacket. Now he was right by his partner’s side and it worried you.

“He’s working on something but he won’t talk about it.”

“Elaborate," He demanded, making a gesture with his hand for you to keep talking.

For a moment, you tried to think. What had he been up to? You remembered how Five had needed Klaus’ help with tracking the owner of a glass eye. You had waited in the car as they were inside the lab. When they came out of there, you were so surprised to see the blood and glass on Klaus’ face that you didn’t even think about anything else that had happened. Now, a few days later, you realized it had been quite strange. What did a glass eye have to do with anything at all?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the man tilted your chair backwards, making it feel like you were about to fall. It startled you and broke your train of thoughts.

“What is he working on?” He demanded to know.

“I don’t know!” You cried now, feeling how hard your heart was beating. It felt like it was going to jump right out of your chest any moment now.

“Do you think her boyfriend is chattier than she is?” The woman turned to her partner.

They couldn’t be serious! You felt doomed when you realized that they could target Klaus next. There was no way you could let them hurt him like they were hurting you.

Although it made you feel rotten deep to your core, you decided to aid them. “Please...don’t drag him into this!”

The man put the chair down so you weren’t at risk of hitting the floor any time soon. It was a small relief that didn’t make you feel better, not really. You were about to do something you knew you’d regret.

“If you want to keep him safe, you gotta talk to us,” She explained how simple it was. It was gross to you how casually they dealing with all of this monstrosity.

Every inch of your body felt cold. You were trembling by now and you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion of the pure terror you felt that caused it. Everything hurt and you hated yourself for being in a situation where you had to protect Klaus by giving those sick people clues as to where Five was.

“Five was looking for the owner of a glass eye,” You finally told them something. It felt like your blood turned to ice as you finished that sentence. “Last time I heard of him, he was parked in front of the lab that manufactured the fake eyes.”

The confusion on their faces didn’t surprise you. You too remember how bewildered you were when Five first mentioned the glass eye.

“A glass eye?” The man had to make sure he heard right. All you could do was nod, confirming it.

“What’s so special about a glass eye?” She inquired furthermore.

At first, you didn’t know what to say. Then all of a sudden it clicked in your mind. Five had mentioned something about the apocalypse, but you thought it was nonsense. He said that they lost their chance of saving people, and a bunch of other things which didn’t make any sense at all.

“I’m not sure, but he made it seem like the fate of the world depended on it,” You didn’t think it meant anything so you felt like sharing that information. To your horror, that seemed to make more sense to them that it did to you. It looked like a light bulb lit above the woman's head.

“Five, that son of a bitch!”

You worried that you had said something wrong. They no longer were interested in you, as they finally had a lead. You just hoped ever so dearly that Five wasn’t there anymore.

The man grabbed a new piece of tape and put it over your lips. You didn’t even try to fight it anymore. Then he grabbed the chair and started dragging you after him to the closet. “We’ll be right back,” He promised you, but you hoped it wouldn’t be true. Although being held there against your will was appalling, it wasn’t that bad when you were by yourself. At least, they couldn’t hurt you when you were alone. Just like that, he closed the doors and left you all alone in the dark. Your only company were your lonely thoughts.

They left and you were scared that you had just sent those lunatics right to Five. It made you feel so guilty like you had swallowed battery acid and it was bubbling in your stomach painfully. If miracles were real, you wished that one would happen now.

What if they’d find Five? Would they hurt him?

Of course, they would! They had been torturing you for hours just to they could find Five. Whatever they were going to do to him wasn’t going to be pretty. If they would find him, you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to forgive yourself. Now all you could do was think about worst-case scenarios.

Please be okay, you thought about all of them. As long as they would be unharmed, you’d be happy.

Klaus couldn’t remember when he had last felt so sick and anxious. Knowing that the people who had stormed into the academy and given everyone a hard time possibly had you captured was like a living nightmare for him. Klaus couldn’t believe that they had been attacked and he had hardly noticed it - until it was too late.

He hadn’t been able to sleep or let alone sit still for a second after you disappeared. Luckily, his siblings were there to help in, in their own special ways. They knew that the intruders were looking for Five, so Diego and Luther knew they had to find Five first. Not only did they want to find you, but they also wanted to protect Five from those people.

After what had felt like forever, they had found Five. He was drunk to the point of passing out, sitting in the library with that mannequin. It was a miracle they had found him at all.

Now they were taking him to Diego’s place where hopefully Five would sober up enough to help them. Dealing with his drunken brother was frustrating.

“I need you to sober up, Five!” Klaus tried to reach him, but Five looked cosy in Luther’s arms, holding onto the mannequin for dear life. Klaus was almost envious of the state Five was in, so drunk that nothing else really mattered.

“Funny you’d say that,” Five laughed nonchalantly. He didn’t seem to know what was at stake. Or perhaps he just didn't care.

“Hey I’m serious, Five! Your friends came looking for you-”

“Hazel and Cha-Cha?” Five didn’t sound too worried about it. “Of course they did.”

Luther was curious to learn their names, “How do you know them?”

Klaus couldn’t imagine how that mattered at that moment. He was impatient and the worry made him act before he could think, “They have Y/N!”

Five opened his eyes just enough to look at the dirty mannequin. “Did you hear that, Dolores?”

Was he serious? That little shit! Before Klaus would lose himself, he heard Ben’s voice, “Don’t fight him, that’s a waste of time.”

It was almost like Ben could read Klaus’ thoughts. Although he wanted to yell his frustration out at the top of his lungs or drown his worries away with something stronger than water, he couldn’t.

“Yeah but he better sober up quick,” For once, he agreed with Ben. If he wanted to find you, he couldn’t fight the only person who possibly knew where you were.

Nonetheless, it felt impossible to stay calm and collected. Every second that passed made him feel worse. Klaus didn’t want to let his mind go too far. He knew you were alive. You had to be.

They made it inside Diego’s place. As far as they were aware, no one had seen them enter. They felt somewhat safe since no one else knew about their location. The last place they wanted to be at was the academy. They couldn’t risk running into Hazel and Cha-Cha when Five was so...out of it.

Five was still sleepy, but the reality weighed in on him. He had mumbled something about Hazel and Cha-Cha earlier, and Klaus assumed they were the people who had taken you.

“It would be really helpful if you started talking, you know?” Klaus felt worse the longer they just sat there. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he was bounding his leg nervously. His body was craving a relief, but he wasn't going to get high when he had to focus on finding you. He wondered what these people wanted in the first place. What could be so important that they’d attack them and take a hostage?

Five hung his head low as he sat on the bed, feeling nauseous. But of course, before he could answer, they were interrupted. Someone was approaching the door, and Diego shushed everyone and grabbed a knife. Had Hazel and Cha-Cha found them?

Klaus stood and watched, hoping that it would be you although the odds were slim. When he heard an old man’s voice, he was greatly disappointed. It felt like he was doused in ice-cold water when he had expected something warm.

“You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I'm pressin' charges!” The man yelled at Diego. If Klaus hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve found it amusing.

“What do you want, Al?” Diego lowered his weapon. He didn’t sound too excited.

Klaus listened halfheartedly. He didn’t care about whoever this Al was. All he could think about was getting some answers out of Five as soon as he possibly could. Klaus wished that Hazel and Cha-Cha had taken him instead of you. Oh, what he’d do to be in your shoes now.

“I ain't your secretary.”

“Yeah-”

Their conversation was a big blur by now. Klaus leaned against the wall tiredly, but he didn’t want to accept how exhausted he was. “They have Y/N, you know,” He reminded Five. Sure, he mentioned it earlier, several times, but Five had been so drunk that he had probably not even registered it.

“As sad as it is for you, Klaus, it doesn’t really matter,” Five explained coldly.

What?

Even Luther seemed shocked by that, but he didn’t make a comment. He watched Klaus and wondered if he would buck heads with Five soon. Things weren’t looking too good between them right now.

Klaus couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Why would you say that?” He barely got the words out of his mouth. Frankly, he felt offended for her sake that Five didn’t think her life mattered.

Five faced Klaus and narrowed his eyes, “Because we’re all gonna die in a few days anyway! We can’t try to save your girlfriend when everyone is at risk! We don’t have time for that.”

Klaus was speechless for once. He just watched as Five rubbed his temples, trying to chase his headache away. He had mentioned the end of the world before, but Klaus didn’t think too much of it. Five had been missing for years and now he was saying a bunch of absurdity. Had it been true all along?

“Klaus!” Diego interrupted them.

“Yes?” Klaus turned around abruptly, struggling to focus on his brothers. They were always nagging and fighting, but now that he was so stressed, it was agitating.They were getting on his nerves by now. Why didn’t they care about you? Was the world actually ending? Klaus wondered if he should’ve spent the day with Allison and Vanya instead. Would they have found you by now?

“Let’s go,” Diego already made his way to the door. Usually, Diego avoided Klaus at all costs when he was leaving. This was an unexpected change of events.

Klaus didn’t hesitate as he followed Diego, completely ignoring Luther who offered to stay behind and accompany Five, “Wait! Wait, where are we going?”

“I think I know where she is,” Diego explained seriously.

Those words were like music to Klaus’ ears. A glimmer of hope sparked in his heart and he almost lost his breath. Finally, some good news!

“Wait...how?” Klaus was struggling to find the right words. The idea of finding you left him astonished.

“Patch has been looking into these lunatics, Hazel and Cha-Cha. She called me about a location and said she found someone,” Diego was convinced it was you. Who else would it be?

“Holy shit,” Klaus replied in disbelief, feeling a knot in his stomach. "You're not joking, right?" He didn’t want to be convinced it was you only to not find you in the end. Could she really have found you?

“Well, Patch told Al she found someone’s girlfriend and I don't know who else it could be,” Diego explained right as he opened the car door.

Although it wasn’t certain, Klaus felt oddly hopeful. Quickly, he climbed into the car as well so they wouldn’t waste more time. The entire ordeal with Five had been just a mess and waste of time, or so it seemed like.

Klaus knew that life often found a way to say ‘fuck you’, no matter how good things seemed. So for now, Klaus just tried to stay calm and told himself to expect the worst. They still didn’t know what condition they would find you in and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to think too much about it.

“Hey,” Ben had followed them, which wasn’t a surprise. “She’ll be fine,” He sounded oddly optimistic. He was certain that you had been found. Everything would be much better once you and Klaus would be reunited yet again.

“I sure hope so,” Klaus sighed nervously. He didn’t know what he’d do if anything bad happened to you.

You couldn’t believe your luck when the door opened and you saw a familiar face. Eudora had found you! How? You didn’t know but it wasn’t the time to ask. Tears of joy stung your eyes when she released you from the bonds that had kept you there for so long. The blood flowed back into your fingers felt amazing, although it caused a tingly sensation.

She ordered you to hide as she made her way further inside the crappy motel room. As quietly as you could, you did as told. She pointed the gun toward the end of the room as you crawled on the floor. The ventilation system caught your eye. It wasn’t even closed properly because one of your captors had hidden something in there.

Once you opened it, you saw a briefcase. It was odd that they’d hide it, so you assumed that it was important or valuable. You grabbed it to take it out of your way and that’s when you heard a loud gunshot which hurt your ears. Your heart leapt to your throat and you looked behind you, seeing the woman with a smoking gun by the door. She walked further inside and to your horror, you saw Eudora’s body on the floor. She had been shot right in the back!

You almost screamed out in shock and pain, but you managed to drown it. Tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your face uncontrollably. They had shot her as she was saving you.

No, no, no

This was bad

Were they going to kill you too?

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you going. You knew you had to run if you wanted to survive. Although it physically pained you to leave her behind, you didn’t think you had much of a choice if you wanted to live. The door was wide open and you bolted for it. Seconds later, they were after you.

“Stop!” The man yelled at you and you heard his footsteps coming closer and closer. Why didn’t he shoot you?

You held onto the briefcase tighter as you ran down the stairs, almost falling over because you were so dizzy. Thankfully, the railing kept you from flying to the ground. At the bottom of the stairs, you heard another gunshot. A bullet hit the ground right next to your feet which made you jump, startled by the loud noise. It had missed you, so you assumed it had been a warning shot.

They stood at the top of the stairs and they both had guns aimed at you. The sight of them and their weapons made you freeze on the spot in fear. Was this it?

“Drop the briefcase!” The guy wanted it back.

Quickly thinking, you decided to use it as a shield. It was the only thing keeping them from shooting you. What was so precious about it that they couldn’t risk losing it?

“If I drop it, you’ll just shoot me!” You weren’t a fool. There had to be another way out of this.

Standing there made you feel like a deer in headlights. The other motel residents had heard the gunshots but no one was opening doors, which was good for them. The blinds were drawn shut so they could either hide or continue with their lives as if nothing unusual was going on. Had someone called for help?

You wondered how Eudora was holding up. You were afraid the bullet wound had been fatal. The thought of her dying in there, alone, was breaking your heart.

“Fuck it,” The woman knew they couldn’t stand there and wait. They needed to get on the move, but they also needed the briefcase. She narrowed her eyes and tried to get a good aim at you. You didn’t doubt she’d find it. After all, the briefcase could only shield you so much.

“Drop it or I’ll shoot!” She gave you one last warning. The gun was loaded and her finger was on the trigger, ready to pull it any moment now.

What you did next was risky, but you panicked. You threw the briefcase in the other direction as hard as you could and then ran, disappearing behind the cars in the parking lot. She shot at you, but you assumed she must’ve missed. They ran after the briefcase that was making bizarre sounds and you had your chance to escape.

You lowered your body on the cold, hard ground and crawled behind a car, sitting in front of the back tires so they couldn’t see you from underneath it.

It was dark outside and only half of the streetlights were functioning, you that kept you somewhat hidden. As you sat there with your back leaning against the car, you noticed that your body was trembling. You were terrified that they would find you and hunt you down like an animal. After everything you had been through, you didn’t want it to end like this. You thought about Klaus and felt like sobbing, but you had to force yourself to be quiet. Finally, the reality of everything was beginning to hit you. It was so hard to believe you had gone through that agony and you were still alive.

A car engine roared further away and you just had to look. The woman was behind the wheel, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Something was burning on the ground further away. It looked like the briefcase. How had it set on fire?

The sound of a gun being loaded startled you. You tilted your head to your side and saw the man standing right in front of you. He was going to shoot you. You could’ve sworn that your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, so close with a gun in his hand and you were staring into the barrel hole. There was barely a meter of distance between you two.

“Please…” A silent pledge was the only thing you could say. The fear had paralyzed your body.

He held onto the gun tighter and clenched his jaw. Why did he look so troubled?

Suddenly, he aimed the gun a little further away from you and pulled the trigger. Once again, the loud bang hurt your ears. Your arms quickly tried to cover your body in self-defense. For a moment, you wondered if he had shot you, but you didn't feel any pain. You blinked a few times and then stared at the spot on the ground he had shot. It confused you.

“Don’t move until we’re gone,” He demanded quietly and glanced at his partner who was waiting for him in the car. Then just like that, he walked away in a hurry.

You sat there in shock and disbelief. He had an opportunity to kill you, but he hadn’t. Why did he spare your life?

Once you heard them driving away from the motel, you felt so relieved. With trembling hands, you covered your face so you could muffle your cries of both joy and horror. Everything felt so surreal and you were overwhelmed with emotions.

But what mattered was that you were alive.

Then you remembered Eudora, who was still in the motel room. Immediately, you felt guilt building up in your heart. Sure, she had been working, but she had been shot as she was saving you. Now that the two kidnappers were gone, you felt safe enough to consider returning to Eudora. She needed your help because so far, it seemed like no one else was coming for her.

As you stood up again, you felt a sharp pain in your leg which made you draw in a sharp breath. You leaned against the car once more and then looked down, only to see fresh blood all over your lower leg, oozing out of a wound you didn’t notice until now. Even in the dark, you could make out how crimson red it was. The bullet had scraped your leg and now it stung like hell. It could’ve been worse, but it didn't make it any less horrific. Why did it hurt so bad once you had seen it?

In a state of shock, you forced yourself up on your feet, using the car for support. You didn’t care that your blood got smeared over the fine polish. You were more worried about the stairs you had to walk up if you wanted to reach Eudora.

Another car drove up to the scene, and for a moment you feared that they had returned. Without hesitating, you lowered yourself on the ground and hid behind the car as well as you could. Why did they come back? Did the man change his mind about you?

You heard two sets of footprints and they were running. That’s when you dared to peek at them from the side of the car. The sight of the people was almost too good to be true. You saw Klaus and Diego rushing to the stairs together. It didn’t matter how and why they were there. The only thing that mattered was that your kidnappers hadn’t returned and now you could see that Klaus was alright.

“Klaus!” You called out his name as tears washed down your face. Knowing that he was alright made you so happy.

Klaus heard your voice and he turned around quickly, letting Diego continue whatever it was that he was doing. At first, Klaus didn’t see you and he wondered if he had started hearing things. But then he saw you crawling into sight from behind a car.

“Holy shit,” Klaus couldn’t believe his eyes. Seeing you alive was like a dream come true, but his joy was short-lived. He saw your injuries and the blood trail you left behind you as you tried to stand up. Quickly, he made his way to you before you’d fall and get hurt even more.

“Oh god, please be okay,” Klaus wished dearly that you weren’t hurt too bad. The world around him was spinning and it felt like everything was caving in. By the looks of it, he believed you'd be alright.

Once Klaus reached you, you more or less threw yourself into his arms, needing to be close to him. Klaus hugged you tightly and finally, he let out a breath he had been holding in. His hand cradled your back and eventually the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You were very much real and it made him feel ever so relieved.

Klaus grabbed your face gently just so he could see you properly. Immediately, he noticed the tears that had mixed with dry blood on your cheeks and the bruises that had formed, which broke his heart. Klaus couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that someone was capable of harming someone as precious as you. It was so wicked.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No,” You couldn’t let him blame himself for what had happened, “I’m okay, I’m okay Klaus,” You reassured him. Sure, you had suffered from injuries and the events would haunt you for a long time, but it could've been worse. You were alive, but you weren’t so sure about Eudora.

Klaus quickly searched you for more wounds. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, since it was hard to find your words. It was truly a miracle that you were in his arms again.

“I was so worried,” He admitted to you, nearly choking on his tears. He still felt as if he was on edge. The danger was far from over but at least he had you. Tears of relief escaped his emerald eyes and he didn’t care that you could see he was crying.

He was just so relieved to hold you again. The moment was emotional for both of you. For a moment, he almost forgot about everything else. But of course, no bliss could last too long. Sirens wailed in the background and they were coming closer at an alarming rate. Klaus looked ahead in the distance and saw the blue lights nearing them.

“We...we gotta go!” Diego’s broken voice caught their attention. He had blood on his hands and tears in his eyes that threatened to spill any moment now. He looked miserable, to say the least.

“What about-” Klaus wondered, but he was cut off.

“She’s gone,” Diego didn’t want to waste any more time. He knew that if they stayed there for a second too long, they would look like suspects. Besides, they had no time to waste with the police when they had to stop the apocalypse - which was coming, according to Five. As much as it shattered Diego’s heart, he knew he couldn’t stay there. You all had to leave the scene.

With their help, you got into the car. Klaus joined you in the backseat and Diego drove off.

Being alone with Klaus after everything that had happened felt surreal. Everything was on repeat on your mind, like a broken record, as you sat in Diego’s bathroom in silence. Diego, Luther and Five were arguing on the other side of the wall, but you paid little attention to it. You had overheard them mentioning the masked people’s names. You knew now that Hazel and Cha-Cha were the ones responsible for everything.

You sat on the closed toilet seat as Klaus was washing your wounds. He was holding a wet towel that he used to wash your face with ever so gently. When he dabbed it against your bruised cheek, you tried not to react. It didn’t hurt too much, it just stung against the cuts.

Klaus couldn’t stop picturing how this had happened. With every blink of his eyes, he saw them hurting you and it made him so nauseated and furious. You didn’t deserve to be hurt, and for what? Just because you happened to be around his family. Klaus was considering leaving you so nothing like this could happen again, but there was no way he would have the strength to do that now. When he looked at you, he felt his heart aching madly. Why did loving someone have to hurt so much?

Neither of you knew what to say. It was rare that you and Klaus were both at a loss of words. At that moment, speaking was just too hard. You were afraid that one word would break you and push you into a breakdown.

He had washed your leg wound which had stung madly, but after the pain you had endured in the past day or so, it wasn’t too bad.

Now he had to stitch it up, which was going to hurt. Klaus was trying to get the thread in the eye of the needle, but his hands were trembling so much that he couldn’t get it through. After several failed attempts, he grew frustrated and then dropped the needle and thread on the floor.

“Hey,” You noticed that he wasn’t doing too good. Seeing him like that made you feel awful and all you wanted was to hold him. Since your wounds were clean now and the bleeding had stopped, there wasn’t a rush to stitch it up. Carefully, you slid off the seat and sat down on the bathroom floor with him. He couldn’t look you in the eye.

“I thought...I thought I’d lost you,” Klaus admitted. When he saw the mess Hazel and Cha-Cha had caused, and how they had put up a struggle against his siblings, he had immediately wanted to find you. Klaus had searched the entire place without stopping for a moment, desperately trying to find you hidden somewhere. When he had to accept the fact you weren’t there, it had been devastating.

You grabbed his trembling hands into your own. His were warmer than yours and it felt good to just hold him. Gently, you brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed his skin tenderly.

“You didn’t lose me, Klaus,” You reassured him, “I’m right here.”

Only you seemed to know how to make him feel better. Klaus nodded and tried to focus on the present. He wanted to cherish the fact that you were safe from harm for now.

Klaus scooted over so he was now sitting right next to you, which allowed you to lean against his body. The moment he wrapped his long arms around you, it felt like your body just collapsed. All the fear, the pain and exhaustion finally took a toll on you and you felt incapable of moving away from him. As much as it had scarred you, you were so glad to be alive and in Klaus’ arms. His oh-so-familiar scent filled your lungs, which made it all so much more true. You were safe. You were really there, right by Klaus' side where you were the happiest.

You held onto Klaus a little tighter, afraid that he’d vanish into thin air and you’d open your eyes, only to wake up in the motel room again. The thought alone was enough to make you feel unwell.

“They wanted to hurt you,” You whispered as you remembered their threat. Hazel and Cha-Cha were still out there and you were scared they would hunt you down again. They were still looking for Five, right?

Klaus was puzzled as he heard that. “Me? Why?”

“They found a picture of us,” You recalled. That’s when the guilt you felt doubled. Not only had you put Klaus and his family in danger, but you felt like you had led Eudora to her death. “They said that if I didn’t tell them where Five was, they would get the answers from you.”

“That wouldn’t have been your fault,” Klaus could tell how you were feeling. He had known you long enough to tell. “Besides, if they had found me, I would’ve given them a taste of their own medicine,” He attempted to make you feel better. You could only imagine what he meant by that and you had to admit that Klaus would’ve found a way to get under their skin. But the idea of him getting hurt because of you was too painful. You tried to avoid the thoughts of what-ifs and all that.

“What if they find us again?” You wondered quietly.

“I’m sure Five has a plan or something,” Klaus tried to sound confident. Five seemed to be several steps ahead of them, but then again terrible things had already happened.

Klaus was drawing small patterns on your skin, being careful not to hurt you. He was yet to see the true extent of the torture they had put you through, but he would soon. He'd have to stitch your wound before you could take a bath together. Usually, Klaus loved bathing with you because you could be so close with one another. It was quite domestic and fun when you were in a good mood. But this time, the thought was dreadful. He wondered how many bruises were hiding under your bloody clothes.

Right now, he just wanted to comfort you which in return helped him unwind. He too couldn’t help but wonder if Hazel and Cha-Cha would find everyone, but he wasn’t going to feed that fear and make you worry about it.

You just needed to stay calm and possibly get some rest. There wasn’t too much you could do about Hazel and Cha-Cha at that point anyway, especially not in your current state.

After a while, you felt like dozing off against him, but you knew you couldn’t sleep on Diego’s bathroom floor. Or could you? Did it matter?

You closed your eyes and tried to listen to what they were talking about in the other room. By the sounds of it, Diego had left. You could only hear Luther and Five talking. Was Diego trying to find the people who had killed Eudora?

“Poor Diego,” You opened your eyes so you didn’t have to remember the gruesome sight of Patch’s body on the dirty carpet floor. You couldn’t believe she was gone.

Klaus didn’t know what to say, but he agreed with you. He felt bad for Diego and the detective. What had been so important that Hazel and Cha-Cha had done all of these things?

A knock on the bathroom door surprised you. You tried to hide your face by hugging Klaus a little tighter as Five walked in. You didn’t want him to see you like that.

“Oh hey,” Klaus didn’t sound too enthusiastic about being interrupted.

“How are you?” Five sounded genuinely concerned. He stood there with his hands in his pockets and he took in the sight of you and Klaus being huddled together on the floor. He saw the needle and thread on the floor as well, not too far away from you, and assumed things hadn't gone quite as planned in there.

Klaus sighed deeply. He remembered what Five had said earlier about how little you mattered. “So now you care about her, huh?”

“Yes, Klaus!” Five stated like it was obvious, “I never said I didn’t. My priorities are just different than yours right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Klaus felt a headache forming as he thought about the alleged apocalypse that was coming. He had almost lost you once, so the idea of losing you in just a few days was awful. Why was life so cruel?

You were beyond exhausted at that point, but their conversation caught your curiosity. Quickly, you wiped your cold tears away and looked at Five from the safety of Klaus’ embrace.

“I’m okay,” You didn’t want to complain. After all, you could be dead by now so you tried so hard to focus on the positives. “Why were they looking for you?” You wanted to know.

Five didn’t look too happy about that. “I wasn’t kidding about the end of the world,” He told you with a straight face. “They probably want to kill me so I can’t stop it.”

“Why would they want to end the world?” Klaus asked what you were thinking.

“It’s a long story,” Five had just told Luther everything. He was going to tell Klaus more about it eventually but now wasn’t the time. “Y/N, did you happen to see briefcases with Hazel and Cha-Cha?”

“Yeah, why?” You were a little bit confused and tired. Had they stolen something from Five?

“Would you happen to know where these briefcases are?” Five knew that they should carry them with them at all times, but he had overheard Hazel complaining about his wrist hurting and that he didn’t feel like carrying it everywhere. Even if there was a tiny chance that Hazel kept it locked somewhere, Five wanted to find out.

“No, they took them with them when they drove off,” You explained shortly. “I think one of them broke.”

“It broke?!”

“I threw it away and it made weird noises and then later I saw it burning,” You explained what you remembered. When it had hit the ground, it almost sounded like a toaster had exploded, but then again you had heard a gunshot as well that had been quite distracting. The briefcase hadn’t interested you too much when you were running away in the other direction, scared for your life.

Five seemed frustrated, but he tried not to take it out on anyone. “Well whatever, it was worth a shot,” And just like that, he walked away, shutting the door behind him. Had you done something wrong?

A few seconds passed before Klaus broke the silence, “Don’t care about him. He’s just...well he’s just being his usual Five self. Who knows what he’s up to.”

You tried to seek comfort in his words. Frankly, you felt too exhausted to care too much about the briefcase.

A yawn was drawn from your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by Klaus. Neither Klaus nor you could stay awake for much longer. It had been a long day and you needed sleep, whether you liked it or not.

“Tired?” He asked, which was a foolish question. He already knew the answer.

“A little bit,” You admitted.

Klaus wondered if it was safe for you to return to the academy. Last time you two had been there, Hazel and Cha-Cha had attacked the place and kidnapped you. Then he thought of your apartment, which wasn’t too far away. Would it be any safer?

“Do you think Diego will mind if we crash on his bed for a while?” Klaus thought of the easiest option. Diego had left and if he knew his brother at all, he wasn’t coming back in a while either.

There was only one way to find out.

A/N: Why is it so hard to end one-shots? Anyway, if you made it so far, I would love to hear your feedback! Thanks for reading 💚

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firstdegreefangirl · 3 years

Note

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” i would love this prompt for Chenford!

Love your writing!!!

Anon, you KILLED me with this one. I had no idea what I wanted to do with it, then a tiny inkling of an idea, then I wrote close to 1600 words in one sitting. Even though I try to keep prompt fills under or around 1k, it is what it is, and I like this so much that I’m not going to make myself pare it down. So thanks for the ask, and enjoy!

Oh, and spoilers for 3.09, if you haven’t at least seen the Facebook promo that got me to watch the full clip even though I still haven’t seen the whole episode. I’m working on it, I swear.

---

“Look me in the face and tell me you don’t think I have the killer instinct to do undercover work.”

It had taken longer than Tim cared to admit before he could school his features enough to meet Lucy’s eyeline and sneer at her. Even then, it had only lasted a second before he couldn’t stand to look at her any longer.

An entire year they’ve spent together, Tim testing his rookie at every step of the way.

Not once had he imagined that she’d have the audacity to test him back. And today, of all days.

And like this.

He’s got to ignore it. He has to make it at least through the end of the shift without constantly thinking about how she’d laughed mere moments after saying she had feelings for him.

It’s not weird. He’d been honest when he told her that.

And I appreciate your honesty.

It’s not weird. It’s so much worse.

Because for the rest of the shift, every time he catches sight of Lucy, Tim’s stomach starts to churn. Every time he hears her voice, his heart beats double-time in his chest. Every time the light fragrance of her perfume wafts across the shop into his nose, he wants to go buy a dozen of those stupid cardboard trees and duct tape them to every air vent.

Because every time he so much as thinks about Lucy, he thinks about what he’d almost said to her, before she’s started laughing at him.

And he still has to turn in her final evaluation, so he’s thinking about her a lot.

He’s thinking about the last year of their lives, all the ways she’s grown into her career, all the ways she’s grown on him.

And he’s thinking about how for just a second, the barest breath of an instant, the world had stopped turning around him this morning.

I have feelings for you.

He hadn’t known what to say to that, how to respond without losing one or both of their jobs. And then she had suggested that he might have feelings for her too, had come way too close to the only card in his hand Tim had known he could never show.

Had he been showing it this whole time?

But she’d started laughing, and the whole thing had been a ruse. Lucy had been fucking with him, and it had worked, and now he can’t shake the way the nausea burns in his stomach. He hardly eats his lunch, even though they both know how much he loves the food truck, blames it on a big breakfast and anxiety about the AMBER Alert.

And somehow, by nothing short of a miracle, he survives the shift. Baby Young is reunited with her parents, Lucy gets promoted to P2, and Tim handles it all without passing out, throwing up, or punching any walls.

All in all, it’s a good day.

But it’s over before he knows it. Before he’s ready, he’s standing in the parking garage, holding a box and sporting a face full of white powder.

She got him again, and he can’t even bring himself to be upset about it.

“It’s been a blast, sir,” she says, laughing again. He loves the sound, even though it feels like a knife in his gut as he thinks again about earlier.

“It has,” he says, then surprises himself. “I can … buy you a drink? Now that you’re not a rookie anymore, there are some things we need to talk about.”

He tries to make it sound like he’s getting ready to give her more career advice, the kinds of firsthand accounts that aren’t relevant until she’s cleared the academy. And he’s got those too, decades of stories about truly helping people who need it and rules bent for the right reasons.

But that’s not what he’s going to say, and he knows it. He feels it deep in his gut as he leads the way across town, sitting right next to the lingering panic from the morning as he watches Lucy’s headlights behind him.

Then they’re sitting across from each other, crammed into a tiny booth, knees knocking together under the table, no matter how many times they try to rearrange themselves. He waves a bartender over, asks for a pitcher of whatever domestic is on tap, and two glasses.

Neither of them say anything until the drinks arrive, until they’ve each downed half a beer. But Tim knows it won’t last, so for once today, he’s not surprised when Lucy breaks the silence.

“We need to talk?” There’s hesitation in her voice, and for a moment, Tim feels a little bad. He wonders what she thinks he’s about to say, even though he knows she won’t be right.

“What you said earlier … in the shop, you know …" He’s stammering again, stumbling where he's usually brash and a little overconfident, and he hates how easy it is for Lucy to throw him off his game. She doesn’t even have to try, and she’s changing the very fundamentals of his personality. But she nods, so he soldiers on. “I don’t think you were being honest with me. Um, dishonest. Ah, at the … at first. Before you …"

Before you took away everything I’ve known the last 12 months.

“So I … wasn’t lying?” Lucy furrows her brow, trying to untangle everything Tim’s said.

“No, you were.” Tim takes a long drink, but his mouth is still dry. “When you tried to convince me that it was just a show of your undercover skills. I don’t think it was. I …" Here goes everything, Bradford. “I hope it wasn’t.”

“You — I — What?” It’s Lucy’s turn to be speechless now, and Tim can see the way her fingers tighten around her glass. “You — you hope?”

“You deserve my honesty,” Tim says simply, mirroring her words from earlier, just before she’d pulled the rug out from under him. He leans forward. “Lucy, when you said … I didn’t get a chance to respond before you switched gears. Not honestly. And the truth is … you were right. When you said I’m protective of you because I have feelings for you.”

Her eyes narrow.

“This isn’t some Revenge Tim Test, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Tim holds his hands out on the table, palms up, a physical representation of how open he’s trying to be. “I don’t know when it started, or really even when I noticed. But you’re right, we’ve been through a lot this year, both of us. A lot of it together, but all of it as partners. And somewhere along the way, it became more than I’d bargained for.

“In a good way,” he hurries to add. “I like it. You. I like — I like you. A lot.” Dammit, he’s stammering again. “And I think you were honest when you said you had feelings for me.” Lucy nods slowly, but makes no effort to speak, and he can’t read anything definite in the gesture. “You’re right, you’re not my rookie anymore. It might be complicated, but in my experience, the best things usually are. And I think that if there’s something here, between us … it’s worth pursuing.”

Tim lets the rest of the air out of his lungs, drains his glass in one swallow and pours himself a refill. Lucy still hasn’t said anything, but he’s determined to let her say her piece, even if she needs a second to process everything. The longer she’s silent, the more worry builds up in his chest, but he knows he’s done the right thing. She deserves his honesty; he’d meant that when he said it.

“Tim …" Lucy starts, then trails off. “You really thought I —” She laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “I really should go out for undercover work. After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t know that I love you?”

“I know that I want you to.” It’s somehow more honest than anything else he’s said tonight, putting it all on the line. Tim sets his hand on the table again, and there are no words to express the way his chest swells when Lucy reaches forward tentatively to tuck her fingers between his. “I know that I’m crazy about you, and that maybe if we’re on the same page about that, some of this year will have been worth it.”

“Only some?” Lucy smiles, and he’s pretty sure she’s trying to flirt with him. Now that he’s letting himself look for those signals, they’re clear as day in front of him.

“Yeah, well, you really shouldn’t have had to get kidnapped for us to work this out.”

“Fair,” She laughs, and for the first time all day, the sound doesn’t turn to molten lead in his stomach. Now he feels warm, comfortable with everything that’s hanging between them. “But however we got here, I’m just glad we made it.”

Lucy leans forward, eye flicking down to look at his mouth, and yeah, he’s picking up the signals. He squeezes her fingers, half-stands in the booth, just far enough to close the space between them and brush their lips together.

It’s a fleeting moment, the angle all wrong and Tim’s back already starting to ache from the strain. None of that matters when he sits back down, though, because he knows there are many more moments to come, just like this and even better.

“Me too, Lucy.”

#this was SO MUCH FUN to put together #I had a blast too Lucy #*rimshot*#chenford #chenford fanfic #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #lucy chen x tim bradford #tim bradford x lucy chen #the rookie s3 #otp: just doing my job #katie writes #kw21 #katie answers #prompt fill #anon love #anonymous #Anonymous

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nefoe-dd · 3 years

Text

SO SMT AU AM I RIGHT GAMERS

I mentioned this in the tags of another post and joked about it in Discord but my brain went brrrr during my last class of the day and now I lowkey have a full plot starting to form lol.

Keep in mind the only Shin Megami Tensei game I’ve played myself is the Nocturne remake, plus I only really remember bits of the plot of 4 and whatever we’ve been given so far of 5 so I’m not super well versed in the series.

Also I’ll add this to the tags too but DSMP Spoilers specifically for the contents of Techno’s Will exist in this post, because that is where the idea for this came from. A lot of other JRPGs have similar plotlines but I specifically thought of SMT because its kind of a meme specifically for that at this point how the plot always seems to have the same type ending bosses.

Also some spoilers for Shin Megami Tensei IV

ANYWAYS

Now Presenting: An AU where Techno’s Limbo is an SMT Game lol

(Under a ‘Read More’ because it got way ahead of me)

An Introduction to Relevant SMT terminology:

Demons: Makes up a large majority of the characters in the game. They are the enemies that you face in combat, and its possible to recruit them to your team through various means. Some demons exist in the overworld though, and can be talked to normally, they’re chill most of the time, unless you do something to tick them off. ‘Demon’ is not taken literally by the Christian definition, they are based off of various figures in folklore and religion around the world, some are even based on Gods and Angels.

Law vs Chaos: Many SMT games have multiple endings based on these two alignments, along with the neutral alignment. It is usually decided by some important decisions the player makes throughout the game. I’m most aware of the SMT 4 ending, in which the route you are on decides the final dungeon, the character you team with for the ending, and the final boss (its either Satan or the in-game version of God). It’s based off of the traditional interpretation of these two, where Law represents the importance of authority, and Chaos represents the importance of freedom.

Another note is that a lot of SMT games take place in a post-apocalyptic world of some kind, which, spoiler, is the case here.

General Plot Details and Worldbuilding:

- Techno dies in the prison. The stasis chamber fails and Quackity succeeds in killing him. Permanently.

- Despite dying, he wakes up again in the main prison cell, but things are different. The lava isn’t blocking the entrance anymore, (in fact there isn’t any lava at all), and he’s alone. Upon peering outside the main cell, he notices a bit of sky peeking through the prison ceiling, like it had been broken into.

- The drop down to the bottom floor is long, but he’s dead, so he just shrugs and jumps down so he can see what’s going on. Turns out there are several holes in this part of the prison, in fact there are multiple on the ground, likely where the lava had escaped from. (Obviously Minecraft lava specifically doesn’t work like that, I’m pretty sure in the DreamSMP the bottom is all source blocks, but just ignore that bit).

- He exits from the back wall of the prison, and everything there so far looks normal, except for the fact that there appears to be less trees than normal. Of the trees that are still there, many of them were cut down and never collected, and some appear to have fallen over due to some damage.

- Techno goes around the prison to the front, and that’s when he notices some things that are very wrong. Various parts of the prison, not just the main cell, are also sitting destroyed. Many cracks, scuff marks and full-on chunks are missing on the walls. The usual entrance which houses the nether portal is hardly still standing, and he can see straight into the main lobby where the portal would lead into once you were let through.

- The surrounding areas are not much better. Tommy’s outpost is toppled over in the distance, only the base and bottom floor are left standing. The tents near the beach are collapsed and destroyed, the only remnants of one of them is a small piece of fabric ripped from the main bit and laying on the ground. Skeppy and Badboyhalo’s mansion is crumbling where it stands, half of the back wall and ceiling are gone. And that’s only what’s visible from here.

- The rest of the server is also in various states of destruction, the spawn walls are hardly left standing, the main nether portal area is covered in potholes, none of the portals are active. The prime path is rotted and broken in most areas, the buildings along it are not faring much better than the ones he’d seen before. And the further he gets away from the prison, the more the plants themselves appear to be dead or dying.

- L’manburg’s crater looks much the same as it once did right after its destruction, albeit with more debris at the bottom which had fallen from the sides as they slowly eroded. The flag at the bottom is torn up and discoloured, honestly its hardly recognizable. The nature that had finally begun to reclaim the land has slowly been dying instead over time, and the bridge overtop has completely collapsed. The only thing still standing, is the ever present obsidian grid that looms over it in the sky. He supposes that whatever disaster had caused this wasn’t able to reach that high up, or that it was at least in part done by someone that liked the way it looked. Not that there seems to be a need for the reminder anymore.

- Something something, he finds out DreamXD is here, and that he might have had something to do with how this world looks. And as much as it shouldn’t matter in the afterlife, he did promise Phil he would be killing God sooooo he goes on a mission to do just that. He can do pretty much anything now that he really doesn’t have to worry about dying, so why not. He has no reason to care about some God, especially when they’re the only ones left.

- Some DSMP people hang around the world and are represented by certain demons, the mostly chill ones that kinda just hang around in the apocalyptic scenery. They don’t recognize him, it isn’t really the people he knows after all, but they are willing to talk to him since they can tell he isn’t human either. He learns little bits of what happened through them, and learns where DreamXD resides, that being one of the strongholds that’s a bit further out.

- Unfortunately, due to the portals being inactive, and his inability to break anything efficiently, or even at all, he has to travel using the overworld. Along the way he manages to speak to some others, this allows him to better locate where the God is, although it doesn’t seem to be hiding out. He even sees it sometimes flying around, which he uses to follow where its hiding.

- Some of the random demons he runs into recognize that he’s not supposed to be here (according to them at least), so he has to fight his way through them. Luckily, many of the friendly demons that he talks to end up tagging along in order to help, thus making up a team he can use to get through them instead.

- There’s probably a demon that seems to resemble Phil somewhere, living alone (alone for so so long) away from everyone in an arctic house perhaps. If I wanted to really up the angst, the demon takes a liking to Techno right away, which is partly how Techno is able to tell its him so quickly. The more they talk, the more Techno realizes how lonely the Phil he knows must be without him there, how upset he’d be once he reads the will and finds out what happened to him. Thus he’s more motivated to, you know, fight God, in an attempt to figure out what the hell happened. (DXD is the only entity existing here that also exists where he’s from, he can guess pretty easily that maybe, just maybe, they are one and the same). Thus, he is given a choice that he knows he will have to make in the future.

- Eventually he manages to find the stronghold and comes face to face with DreamXD himself. DreamXD is just kinda chillin there, they fight, through DreamXD doesn’t seem to be putting in too much effort, almost like it does not want to win.

- Techno wins (duh), and he is left with a choice, a choice to finish the job, or spare the god and allow it to go free. And, well, he feels that he doesn’t really have the right to decide whether it lives or dies, and while its possible that DreamXD caused whatever disaster created the current state of the world, but he doesn’t know that for sure. DreamXD has done nothing this whole time he’s been here, and its done nothing to him or his companions.

- He chooses to leave it alone, and DreamXD seems to know that it was always going to end that way.

- DreamXD disappears, and Techno wakes up in the cell again post-revival, the prison and the world around it is the same as he remembers

(I don’t remember the exact real-world to limbo time difference but I imagine that it felt like, a day, maybe half that, while irl it was only a few minutes to an hour.)

Some other notes/details:

- The other possible ending would have resulted in Techno killing DreamXD and being given ANOTHER choice to take its power over the world, or just leave and stay there forever. Basically DreamXD’s existence is vital to the power of the revival book, and it’s death would have resulted in Dream not being successful in his revival attempts. Obviously we have no idea how the powers actually work yet, but I just came up with an explanation because I thought it would be interesting. You can decide on your own which of these endings fall into Law, Chaos or Neutral because uh, its complicated given the scenario. You can also decide if letting DreamXD live even fits into his character! Idk! But its not like DreamXD’s being oppressive by any means, not that there’s anyone to oppress here anyways. That’s my logic anyways.

- I don’t know what demons would represent specific people, I’d like to use one of the Angels for Phil but the Demons based on Angels usually have an important role in the plot that is in line with the Law alignment and like, protecting god or whatever, so no. There are a couple bird ones but idk if they fit the vibe, idk it could work, I’d have to look at a list if I want to go into this further.

- I kinda want Eret to be an Inugami because it’s body does that thing that ferret’s do when they’re all stretched out :) The only reason I’m hesitant is because Inugami is a dog, and Goose deserves representation.

- The reason I imagined for why Techno can’t break anything is because the mining fatigue lasted throughout this because he died with it, it’d get in the way of fighting too but at least it isn’t weakness, and he’s not alone either.

Uhhhhh that’s it for now I think!

(will potentially add to this if I figure something else out in the future)

#Dreamsmp #Dreamsmp spoilers #DSMP #Technoblade #none of the schoolwork I've done so far is this long what the fuck did I do #this is almost 2k words btw

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honeydots · 4 years

Note

190?

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought”

Summary: Goro winds up having more to drink than he planned, and who else to find him on his drunk walk home than his soon-to-be-assassinated rival.

cw: underage drinking, minor blood mention

(ao3 link)

The smell of wine was always too thick for Goro’s tastes.

He dreaded to hear the hollow sound of the cork popping, and the clink of glass-on-glass as each man drank to their hearty victories.

It wasn’t uncommon that alcohol was served at these sorts of things, with Shido’s colleagues and their celebratory get-togethers. He would always be expected to attend, but not for long. Just enough time for his presence to be known, so that he could come and go without becoming the prudish center of conversation.

He knew they spoke about him while he wasn’t around, and that was unavoidable. These little events were the best way to control their conversations from afar. Leave them with more answers than questions and with casual suspicions, not deadly ones.

Come in, speak in pretty sentences, have a glass of wine, and leave.

He knew better than to reject drinking. Or rather, he knew better than to reject drinking with this crowd. Some men would come in and make a show of Goro’s being a minor, as if their own morals wouldn’t allow it. Laugh along with their drunkards, and let Goro remain blissfully sober.

Though others, and these were usually the important ones, didn’t care. Goro was to politely accept their offer, and to drink not all but most of his glass. Don’t appear eager, but don’t appear sheepish. Drink to another successful success, another voter turnout, another hit.

He’d always think too hard about these nights. Figuratively, wine was the blood of Jesus, drunk to remind Christians of the sins that he died for. Goro wondered how figurative his glass was now. Tonight, they were toasting to blood soon to be spilled; it was practically in their glasses.

Goro certainly wasn’t Christian. It was useless to think of wine as anything more than grapes.

But sometimes he’d imagine watching the men pour their glasses and take a sip, only to discover the salty allure of blood washing into their mouths. Watch them wretch and choke, spit out their consequences onto the ground. A literal taste of their medicine.

Goro would time himself to his drink. He could even call it a game. Full meant to begin his charming conversations, to grit his teeth and bear through the night. Quarter gone often went by largely unnoticed. If he wasn’t speaking to someone while he was a quarter gone, then he’d done something wrong. He was supposed to be sociable and he’d best act like it.

Half was a tedious measurement. By half, he needed to wrap up any of his quarter chatters and then stand aloof to the side. Allow himself to be open to any quieter, private talks. He’d wait to be approached, while keeping a watchful eye on the atmosphere.

Half could also mean he needed to join into whatever room encompassing conversations that he hadn’t been a part of. Even if it was to simply nod along to whatever nonsense the guests were spouting. It was important to be involved in the key factor.

The last stage, and often the most delicate, was three quarters. At this point, he needed to wedge himself into whatever group he could. To act terribly interested and, when appropriate, deem it the time he must be getting home—he was a working student, after all. He would give his goodbyes, relinquish his glass, and walk home, chewing breath mints like tobacco.

But this was a delicate stage because, on days like today, there would be the option of a refill. Some guest with intentions would see his glass half empty, and offer to fill it again. Never enough wine (he wondered if blood was applicable here, too) for a young man like him.

Depending on the party, Goro would reject it. He could even use this method as a way home—saying he’d had enough, and should be going anyway.

But it was different tonight. The man who he’d managed to dive into conversation with was new and important. The founder of a law firm who’d recently begun business with Shido. He’d grown relevant quickly, and this was the first chance Goro had to make an impression on him.

Two glasses isn’t too much.

Goro didn’t care about this man whatsoever, in actuality. As relevant as pond scum in the grand scheme of things. But favors went miles in this business, and keeping his head on his shoulders was more than worth a glass of wine.

And so he went from three quarters, to full, to half, to empty.

An empty glass was a last resort exit, but it was the most effective against the threat of another refill. He’d stayed too long now. He excused himself, definitely, content with his seamless image he’d left with the man.

It was when he stepped outside, into cool air and away from the bustle and buzz, that his decision came back for its vengeance.

He wasn’t exactly dizzy, but he wouldn’t call himself clearheaded. Disoriented, maybe. His face felt a little flushed. He tried to take deep breaths, keep oxygen going to his brain, let himself calm down. Maybe he was just a bit too excited. He faced forward, focused, and walked. Straight lines, straight back. He would be fine—he only had a little more than usual tonight.

Though, it wasn’t long until he ducked into an alleyway to collect himself.

Shit, he thought, dropping his briefcase onto the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, trying to get himself to focus.

It didn’t work. He felt groggy.

I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.

This was ridiculous. He wasn’t some lightweight who couldn’t hold his alcohol. He’d drunk at least this much before, and he’d been perfectly capable of getting back to his apartment. What was different about today?

A displeased clench of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten yet. No breakfast, a skipped lunch in favor of an interview, and wine for dinner.

So, that was it. He needed to eat something. Easy fix, probably. Something a bit hearty would be best, but he was sure he’d see effects even with a small snack.

He hardly felt comfortable going anywhere in the state he was in. God forbid someone he knew saw him, to say nothing of the media. But a dark alleyway on a Tokyo night wasn’t an ideal locale, either.

He considered going into the metaverse, just to get himself out of immediate danger and let the alcohol digest a bit. Let it settle. He could easily slip into Mementos and avoid the subway station. No food would await him there, but at least he wouldn’t be at risk of being seen.

It was dark enough no one would see him enter. He settled it—he’d go inside until he felt sober enough to walk home. Ideally, it would be a short visit. In and out quick enough that he’d still be able to catch the final train. He could excuse being out late with a case, if he was cornered.

He pulled out his phone and opened up the Nav. He was moments away from tapping “Mementos” on his recently visited, when a voice startled him away from the screen.

“Akechi?”

Goro whipped around (casually being an afterthought) and stood face to face with who, on a night like this, he’d call his judge, jury, and executioner.

“Akira-kun,” said Goro, immediately flipping his switch onto a sweeter and less completely deranged setting. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? Awfully late to be out, isn’t it?”

Obviously it had to have been Kurusu who’d decided to make himself known. Of all the nights to show his face. Shido’s event had just had Goro toasting to the predicted fall of the Phantom Thieves. A celebration of a plan being put flawlessly together, centering around Kurusu’s uncanny murder. His coincidental suicide.

Goro had hoped to return without even thinking about him, lest he risk himself getting distracted. His death was just business, and that’s how he needed to think of it. Keep Kurusu behind thick walls of paperwork, or as just another shadow in a crowd.

But instead, there he stood, making the aftertaste of the wine on his tongue turn bitter and guilty.

“I’m heading home,” Kurusu began, looking uncharacteristically bothered. He had a twinge more of a frown on his face, and his eyebrows were furrowed. It was hardly reassuring. “Are you… okay?”

Goro bit his tongue. Who else to notice his state of being completely not okay than Mr.Your-Problem-Is-My-Problem himself. Maybe Goro could amuse himself later, thinking about what Kurusu would do if he told him just what was going through his mind. How would he solve that problem?

“I’m feeling just fine, though thank you for asking. I’m heading home myself, so if you don’t mind,” Goro said, giving a polite half wave and trying to ignore how completely awkward this interaction had been. But two steps forward had him steadying himself on the wall, and Kurusu at his side.

At his side. He was touching him now. Holding him up. It suddenly felt like all too much. He jerked away, filling his head with a whole new kind of dizzy. He pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to steady his mind.

It was expected that Kurusu wouldn’t let that slide. He stood back, eyes wide.

“You’re not alright.”

Yes, that was clear now, wasn’t it? He felt lucky that drinking didn’t make him snappy.

Goro’s elongated silence didn’t seem to tickle Kurusu. It wasn’t like he was doing a fantastic job at pleasing Goro at the moment, either, so he let the pause hang.

Kurusu filled the quiet. “Are you… drunk?”

Goro could feel his edge falling. He would not lean into it. He put on a dazzling smile.

“Ah, Akira-kun, ‘drunk’ is such a crude term. There’s a better one—what was it? Maybe feeling a bit buzzed—”

“Did something happen?”

Kurusu’s gaze was very firm.

Goro didn’t hold it for long. He sighed and tried to relax his stance a bit.

“An interesting correlation you’ve just made, but no. Nothing has happened,” he started, folding his arms into himself. “But, I am more intoxicated than I’d preferably like to be, I’ll admit.”

The concern on Kurusu’s face was thoroughly unwelcomed.

“How much did you drink?”

He’d been hoping that Kurusu wouldn’t play the role of saint. The scrutiny of a worrywart was not the attention he was seeking.

Goro leaned (casually being a forethought, now) onto the wall of the alleyway. “Not enough to warrant your distress, Akira-kun. I simply haven’t eaten much today.” Kurusu’s frown grew deeper, and Goro thought to use it to his advantage. “If you’re so worried, though, perhaps you could get me a little pick-me-up from a convenience store.”

Goro’s stomach twisted, making him flinch and lose his balance. He scrambled to keep himself straight on the wall, the alcohol not helping him in the least. That was all the convincing Kurusu needed, much to Goro’s displeasure.

“You need to sit down somewhere,” Kususu said, annoyingly kindly keeping his hands off of him, but prepared to act as a brace. “We aren’t far from Leblanc. Sojiro already went home.”

“Now, I—” Goro began, but found himself feeling a bit undone by Kurusu’s ever present stare.

He weighed his options. He could shake Kurusu off and enter Mementos by himself, wait foodless for his mind to clear, risk falling asleep there and being late tomorrow and possibly stumbling into trouble.

Or, he could rest at LeBlanc for a while.

Kurusu always had such miserable timing.

Goro scrunched up his nose. “...Fine. If you’re willing to offer me your hospitality, I will take it,” he said.

Kurusu’s expression lightened enough to make Goro’s stomach feel bubbly. What a wretched effect he had on him. This was no time to be getting attached. Much more of this and something really would stick.

Goro straightened his tie, picked up his briefcase, and stood tall. He needed to clear his head somehow. Kurusu was simply his means. He was in an unideal situation that needed to be resolved, and nothing more.

He would not let it be more, two glasses be damned.

***

The train ride did nothing but make him feel worse. Drunk and hungry was a terrible combination. Each bump of the car made his stomach churn.

He hadn’t attracted much attention in the shabby railcar, which was lucky, other than the watchful eye Kurusu had been keeping on him. It was humiliating to have someone so nervous over his condition, and Goro wished his choices hadn’t been so black and white.

He was almost too attentive. Goro wouldn’t think about it.

When they’d arrived at the café, Kurusu’s word held true. It was scarce, no customers or owner. That, at least, was a relief.

There was a noise from the attic, and soon after trotted down Morgana. He stopped in his tracks halfway on the stairs, round eyes turning big upon seeing Goro.

“Akechi,” he said, turning his head to Kurusu. “What’s he doing here?”

Kurusu rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you give us a little time?”

Morgana looked between them again. Either Goro missed something, or Morgana accepted that for what it was, because he turned around and headed back upstairs without another word.

Goro sat in his usual spot, but didn’t feel very typical. He felt wrong just enough to know that he’d be here for a little while. It didn’t help that he was already getting tired.

Usually, alcohol’s one solace was that it made falling asleep come quickly. Now, as he fought his eyelids from betraying him tonight, he wished it’d do anything but.

“Is curry okay?” Kususu asked, already tying an apron around his waist.

Any food would do, really. Anything to help him sober up. “I was under the impression curry was about all you knew how to cook.”

Kurusu gave way his signature hint of a hint of a smile, and put himself to work. Goro leaned back in his chair and tried to just focus on his breathing. He should’ve said no to another glass of wine. Or even just snacked a bit at the event. Though he loathed eating in front of Shido and his colleagues, it would’ve saved his evening alone.

Goro watched Kurusu stir the warming pot of curry absentmindedly. The scent was endlessly better than the wine he’d been served. Savory smells of spices and meat. The hunger and the alcohol must’ve been getting to him, because he had to catch himself before he thought it felt homelike.

This was not a home. This was not his home.

Kurusu noticed Goro watching, but Goro was growing too tired to care. He needed to eat something before he thought something damaging. A wandering mind did him no good here.

It was very quiet in the café. Silence wasn’t uncommon between them, but it was rooted in tension. Goro didn’t trust himself much to speak first. He’d always been careful with his words, but the more his thoughts grew out of hand. the more likely he was to spill sensitive information; or say something too private to let anyone else hear.

Kurusu, on the other hand, was oddly talkative tonight.

“So, do you drink often?”

He was as difficult to read as ever. Goro didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current state of disheveledness, but Kurusu maintained his reputation.

“Not really, no,” Goro readjusted a bit in his seat, and looked down at his hands. “Tonight was… This isn’t a habit of mine.”

He did have the underlying concern that the more he did this, the more it might become a habit, if Shido’s example was anything to go by. He’d hate to have inherited anything from a dastardly man like him, but rancid alcoholism would feel like an all new low.

Kurusu remained stone faced. “I see,” he replied flatly.

“Might you be disappointed? I never would’ve taken you for the ‘party animal’ type, but perhaps you aided me for the sake of a connection?” Goro asked, and then immediately regretted not taking the chance to let their conversation die down. Drunk and tired was not a good mix for his big mouth, it seemed.

“I think I’ll survive,” Kurusu said, raising his eyebrows. He set the temperature lower on the burner and got out a plate. It seemed Goro’s meal was finished heating up. And thank god for that, because the hunger was really getting to him now and he was feeling much more miserable than he’d have preferred for a Thursday night.

Kurusu served his curry still steaming, and Goro dug in as calmly and controlled as he could manage, with a quick, “I appreciate it,” before taking his first bite.

He could tell he was being closely watched as he ate. Goro decided not to comment on it quite yet. Getting a little clue-in on Kurusu’s mind always proved interesting.

He mentally berraded himself for thinking that. It was thoughts like those that inclined him to keep his mouth shut. Something about his drowsiness was making him sentimental, and this clearly wasn’t the time.

“You think I’d only help you because I wanted something?”

Again, Kurusu was single handedly keeping their conversation alive. He usually required a bit more effort to pry into, and Goro positively knew why it was different tonight, but kept himself from thinking it.

Goro gave himself a performative moment to think of a reply. “Are you referring to my question earlier? Well, really, is that so odd? Such an intent is hardly uncommon,” he replied, and took another bite. He wanted to say he was sobering up, but so far the curry was only affecting his stomach, not his mind.

“So you think that’s my ‘intent,’ then.”

“Do I have a reason to think otherwise? You’ve set up your own sorts of deals within your friendships, haven’t you?” Goro began again, growing intrigued. “Kitagawa-kun makes you those cards, as one example. It’s only natural that we, as humans, have a give and take relationship with each other. Wouldn’t you agree?” Another bite.

Kurusu looked unimpressed. Goro always knew he’d get something interesting out of him when he wore that expression.

“You think so?”

He met his eyes solidly and smiled. “I do.”

There was a short silence. Goro haughtily scraped up a large spoonful of rice.

Kurusu caught him in a mouthful. “So, what are you giving me, then?”

Swallowing gave him a moment to think. Though it was time wasted, really, because it wasn’t some grandiose question. He hoped he hadn’t said that to sound smart, like some stumping finisher. But Kususu hardly failed to disappoint—so he kept his hopes up.

The back of his mind told him getting excited was the worst thing to do while trying to detach himself, but he buried the thought.

Just for now is fine.

He cleared his throat. Where was he?

“You don’t think I’ve held up my end of the bargain? I disagree. Let’s see,” Goro crossed his legs and brought a finger up to his chin. “I believe I’ve taught you some sleuthing techniques, haven’t I? Though, that was early on. I can see how you may not be satisfied. However, I have introduced you to quite a few hot spots, yes? And I’m aware of the effects that billiards and darts had on you.” He scooped another spoonful of curry, but finished his thought before he took his bite. “And, I certainly hope I’m not mistaken that our conversations have been gratifying for the both of us.”

“That’s what you call give-and-take?” Kurusu replied. Knowing him, though, it was less of a reply and more of a challenge. Goro had forgotten all about how badly he wanted to be in bed at home, now. He may have been tired, but this was a rivalry he intended to dominate. The tricks Kurusu had up his sleeve always proved entertaining.

“‘That’ is what I call ‘what I’ve given you.’ If you’d like my takeaway, well, let’s just say you’ve given me plenty to think about over the last few months.”

Kurusu leaned onto the counter. Goro appreciated the maintained distance, since he still wasn’t exactly in a sensory mood. The alcohol hadn’t left him yet. “You know, I can think of a better name for that.”

“Oh?” Goro said, “Can you?”

Kurusu almost smirked. “Silly little thing called friendship.”

Goro sighed, shaking his head. Perhaps he hadn’t picked up on what he’d been implying. Kurusu could win some and lose some. “Akira-kun, I’m not trying to argue that friendship is off the table. I simply think any relationship can be boiled down to the action of compromise.”

“And I’m trying to argue that I think that’s a shallow way of thinking,” Kurusu shot back.

Goro felt his jaw clench. “Your reasoning?” He presented the easiest smile he could muster.

Kurusu put himself back up at full height and slid his hands into his pockets. “A relationship doesn’t end once a standard has been met.”

Goro rolled his shoulders back. The high of debate was clearing his mind. He hardly noticed.

“Ah, but don’t you think another goal could be made? Or, even two or three? And, a connection doesn’t have to start with just one, you could have dozens of deals with a single person at a time,” he argued, feeling quite confident. “Have you heard of the Social Exchange Theory? It suggests that relationships are formed by maximizing benefits and minimizing drawbacks. In other words, what one gives to you is the defining factor, while you try to deplete what is taken.”

Kurusu seemed to consider that, but his pause gave way to Goro’s unfinished defense. “Let me give you an example: you and Sakamoto-kun are quite close, aren’t you? Is that not a result of both of you, mutually and continually, giving and taking from each other?” He continued, watching Kurusu quirk an eyebrow. “Perhaps Sakamoto is a carefree presence for you, and perhaps you offer him a place of security. But, as one would expect, each of you have flaws. Sakamoto can get rambunctious, and his actions have consequences that can rebound and affect you. That is a cost of his friendship. A give and take, even in non-physical terms.”

Goro took another bite of curry in anticipation of his response. It was already growing cold. At this point, Goro really didn’t think that the curry had helped him clear his mind at all— it was just their conversation in privacy that had given him a chance to focus.

Not that the effects of his drinking were completely gone. He was still very sleepy, and he knew he tended to ramble in exhaustion. Goro had done that here before, even. He needed to figure out a way to wrap this up soon, but. Kurusu wasn’t like the men around Shido. He enjoyed their talks. He didn’t have a glass of wine in hand telling him how much longer he needed to hold up.

It was only talking, between them.

He would power through it. He imagined that once he was up and walking around and heading back to the station, that he’d regain energy again. It was only the atmosphere that was making him so tired. He couldn’t possibly fuck up so poorly as to say something incriminating at a .06 blood alcohol content.

“Me accepting that my friends have flaws doesn’t take from me,” Kususu answered, giving Goro another chance to flex his argument.

“Then, shall I speak more literally? You often cook for your friends, don’t you? That taxes something directly from you, time and effort.” Goro put his spoon down entirely and leaned into their conversation. Kurusu wasn’t the kind of person that Goro felt he needed to chide, but a bit of teasing felt inevitable.

Kurusu replied straight away. “Me cooking for my friends isn’t the foundation of our relationships.”

“But, you have made deals in similar fashions, haven’t you? Would you really argue that none of your relationships were formed from a deal you made? You, of all people?”

He watched the reaction his spiel got from Kurusu. Hardly a twitch, but something had dug under his skin. Goro knew he was enjoying this as much as he was, and it almost wrenched out a grin from him.

Kurusu put a hand out of his pocket and propped himself up, leaning towards Goro on the counter. It closed the space between them further. They still weren’t touching, but his presence was on top of him. It felt close, and Goro had to fight moving away.

“I’ve made plenty of friendships through a give-and-take. But the idea that it’s the only way to view them is one-sided. You can say that it’s an exchange in hindsight, as an outsider, but I’m not thinking about what I get from people when I’m with them. I’m thinking about them, and that’s all.” Kurusu took his weight off the counter. “It’s material otherwise. Only thinking in wins and losses.”

Goro pinched the back of his arm habitually. He spoke a bit quieter. “So you think it can’t be effectively utilized?”

Kursu looked at him firmly. “I think it’s the wrong mindset to have.”

There was a short silence that hung. They stared at each other. Goro broke the contact, closing his eyes and resting back in his chair. He giggled.

“You never cease to entertain, Akira-kun. You really are interesting,” he sighed, trying to make it sound a bit wistful. “Would you tell me what led to such a thought process?”

Kurusu’s expression fell. It was quick, and barely noticeable, but he looked pained. Like what Goro had said had squeezed something hard, but disappeared just as fast.

He replied with his typical emotionless slate.

“There was something that changed.”

Goro tilted his head, and brought up a hand to rest it on. “That something being?”

He wondered what Kurusu might say. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Perhaps a view in a palace, or a girlfriend, or some connection that would be ultimately meaningless to Goro, but something he still wanted to get his hands on.

Suddenly, his mind felt very present. He shouldn’t have thought that. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be asking this. Now was the time he was supposed to be creating a distance between them, not trying to open him up and solidify whatever makeshift acquaintanceship they’d developed. He was going to kill him in four days. Getting to know him better was supposed to have been a distant ‘what if.’ He shouldn’t feel so curious.

But Kurusu smirked and said, “A secret,” despite Goro’s dilemma.

“Ehh,” Goro complained, feeling both relieved and indescribably annoyed. “You won’t be giving me a ticket into the back of your mind tonight? After all that buildup?”

Kurusu laughed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“Try me,” Goro said, and smiled wide. He ignored his itchy eyes telling him to go to sleep. And the pushing voices reminding him that he was setting himself up for more pain in the long run.

He knew that. He couldn’t help himself, though. He knew he’d get nothing out of this.

The realization made him gulp.

Kurusu eased up. “Maybe once you tell me why you’re ‘buzzed.’”

Goro wasn’t sure he could do much more to keep the conversation from ending. His little cycle of trying to make things as terrible as possible for his future self was going to come to an end. “I think I’ve been keeping up appearances very well.”

“You can’t fool me,” Kurusu replied, and grinned a very faint grin. He took off his apron. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Mm,” hummed Goro, and just like that, Kurusu disappeared from the conversation. Goro put his elbow onto the counter and propped his head up, leaning into his cheek. Their talks often ended in nowheres, neither of them giving up their stances. He tried to keep himself from thinking how nice it was to have such a conversation partner. Maybe it was the alcohol, and his growing drowsiness, but he couldn’t help himself.

Kurusu wasn’t his friend, but he could be. Could’ve been, was more accurate. He was digging himself into a hole, thinking this way. But he’d buried himself in something deeper a long time ago.

Goro’s eyes felt heavy. He thought to rest them, just for a moment, until Kurusu returned. Then he could say his goodbyes, their debate having come to an end. And he’d go home, and he’d feel a bit like he was rotting away, and he’d sleep through it anyway.

But for now, he was comfortable in a café, with low lights and a could’ve been just barely out of reach. He was a little undone, but that was just fine for now.

He closed his eyes and barely felt himself drift off.

***

Akira dug through one of his dusty boxes upstairs, while Morgana sat staring at him from his bed. He stuck his arm in deep, feeling around and checking colors and fabrics when he could pull something up for air.

“You two sure are chatty, huh,” Morgana remarked, flicking his tail back and forth.

Akira kept his nose in the box. He was almost positive he’d put it in here. Maybe it had gotten more buried than he thought.

“What’d you guys talk about?”

It didn’t take long to find his prize. It was a bit stuck in the middle, and he had to yank hard to free it from the mess of clothes. But as he pulled, the tension eased, and out popped his summer blanket. He threw it over his shoulder, and he heard Morgana jump down from the bed.

Akira got up and waited for him to join him.

“I’m not sure you’d be that interested.”

Morgana huffed. “You’re always talking about weird stuff.”

The two of them walked downstairs. Akira was trying to be quiet, skipping the second and notoriously squeaky stair, while also attempting to shake out the blanket a bit on his way down.

His silent mission must’ve proved successful, because Akechi was still laying down on the counter sound asleep, in the same position he’d left him. Akira watched his shoulders rise and fall a bit. He looked peaceful.

Akira spread out the blanket between his hands. It was light, but it was better than nothing. It could get cold some nights.

“You know, I still don’t get why you’re being so nice to him,” Morgana said.

Akira didn’t reply. He walked over to the chair Akechi was sitting on, and tried to lightly but snugly wrap him up.

Morgana hopped onto the counter. “You know what he’s trying to do. You don’t owe him this much.”

The blanket hugged around Akechi’s shoulders and back well. Akira made sure it wouldn’t fall off. He tried very carefully not to touch him. Waking him would be bad, and Akira didn’t want to initiate something that would make him uncomfortable. His jolt from earlier had kept Akira off—he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Morgana persisted. “You aren’t going to get anything out of this.”

Akira stepped back, and made sure there weren’t any uncovered spots. Akechi looked warm, and he looked soft, and he looked exhausted. Incredibly, incredibly exhausted.

“I know.”

#THANKS for the ask!!!!!#also sorry you had to beta ur own request LMAOOOO #i actually struggled a lot more w this one than u think purely bc i was having trouble with coming up with a premise i liked #this was NOT the first idea i had lololol #oh but not to say i didnt have a lot of fun haha #also for everyone who checks tags first: yes its shuake #AND its about 5k #anyway thank u again and i hope u enjoy (enjoyed? heheh)#my fics #ask #i-demand-a-hug #SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAD TO DEAL W THIS WHILE THE READ MORE BROKE #my p5 fics

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crazynekochan · 3 years

Text

Dangan Persona AU

Palace #7

Ruled by Makoto Naegi.

Captive is Mukuro Ikusaba (held captive in cell; will be executed for her crimes in the alternate reality if not rescued in time; picked very much the worst day to dress as Junko).

Shadow manifests as Makoto but wearing a creepy long black cloak, like he is the judge, jury and executioner (which he is), who turns into a 4-armed angel, one wielding a shield, the other a huge revolver (like truth bullets), and the 2nd pair holding up the weight of the world’s hope on his shoulders as a shining globe that seems to get heavier as the battle progresses. It’s also immune to Curse skills, which is rather unfortunate because that’s what everyone was betting on it having since Lincoln (and therefore Makoto)’s weak to Curse skills.

Palace is Hope’s Peak as ala the first game but much more pastel, with the walls instead draped in soft silk, light shining down in jarring contrast to the giant metal plates over the windows. It gives everyone the creeps, especially when the 2nd half starts with much more blood and gore appearing on the pristine sheets and floors.

As a little peep to the next palace, this is also where they get a glimpse of a Shadow Nagito. The original had gotten curious and just barely went a bit into the Metaverse. He managed to get out right away, but not before causing his shadow to be spotted tending to a strange memorial garden of class 78 before vanishing.

Finally after frankly too many puzzles, they arrive at the midway point of Mukuro’s show trial at a near exact replica of the red door to the trial grounds. They open up and find the elevator, but what is much more relevant is the metric fuckton of Junko photos and Monokuma memorabilia all over the room, almost all of them horrifically destroyed in rage, aimed at the faces in particular. Since Mukuro was dressed as Junko the day she got abducted (Junko had a scheduling issue and made Mukuro dress as her for class, even though no one else really bought it), this makes everyone rightfully very nervous and reluctantly head down, despite the sick feelings roiling in everyone’s stomachs, because they’re not gonna like this. And nope, they didn’t like it at all.

They came out to see the trial already underway, 2 large stands loaded with masked figures to the sides of the room and a high circle of 15 podiums surrounding Mukuro, chained into a kneeling position as the Judges gazed down upon her. The party looks up to see them, and finds something rather strange. On one side are 9 funerary portraits on raised poles, with the 6 judges in black robes in front of them, all focused on Mukuro. The Judges are cognitive versions of the DR1 survivors, all looking much worse for wear (cognitive Hiro looks exhausted, cognitive Hina is silently sobbing with a funerary portrait of Sakura in her hands, even cognitive Kyoko looks like she was in mourning), with Shadow Makoto in the center as the chief Justice. It’s right at the ending of the trial, and Mukuro is declared guilty for conspiracy to end the world, to the disgust and horror of the crowd.

Mukuro tries to argue, saying that this must be a mistake, they have the wrong person. Shadow Makoto tells her that no, they know full well who she is, Mukuro Ikusaba (full name, no honorifics). He continues, telling her, in no uncertain terms, all of the crimes he knows of from the alternate timeline committed by the Ultimate Despair. “And to prevent that from occurring, we must tear the despair out, root and stem. Junko would be nothing without her little cronies, after all. What better way to end this right now than by her dearest sister’s death, leaving her powerless?” Then the Shadow has her trapped inside of a cage and sent down to the dungeons to await her execution, before the party can help her.

The rest of the palace works in a similar way to the first half, but everything goes into straight up horror movie territory. Like they were creeped out before, but now it was fucking all sorts of terrifying. It’s pretty much an amalgamation of all of Makoto from the other timeline’s trauma and survivors guilt from the first game. This part of the palace also has a bunches of minibosses that they have to fight through in the second half because holy crap, those things are fucking horrific. The minibosses are all the souls lost to the killing school life and it is very much not pretty. Sayaka covered in blood impaled with knives; Leon tied to a pole, pummeled to a pulp, chucking bloody baseballs; Chihiro with his head bashed in, using a mess of cables and screens to interact with the world; Mondo as a hellish biker that seems to be melting; Taka the terrifying sergeant with his head bleeding; Hifumi with his head bashed in as well, using his horrific Junji Ito-style magical girl drawings for attacks; a thing so burnt and smashed up that they could only identify her as Celeste because of the twin drills; Sakura as a silent warrior, constantly coughing up poison and blood. Even a makeshift “Mukuro”, hardly able to move from all the spears through her body. Holy crap, did that freak everyone out and make them very glad when they next saw their friends again at dinner because they’re alive!

The time limit this time is because Shadow Makoto, while being a twisted mess of repressed anger, sadness, and misery, is also fundamentally a good person and doesn’t want to kill Mukuro before she had even done anything, even though he knows that she’s guilty as sin of conspiring to destroy the world and everything in it (in the canon timeline). That’s actually where the party comes in, because by the time they clear the palace, the Shadow had finally decided that it was now or never and he needed to do this now. When they rush in to stop him, that’s when the boss fight starts.

The fight is genuinely hard as hell and the Shadow isn’t holding back. The attacks are all similar to the various minigames from DR1, just with a Persona flair. Makoto’s providing as much support as he can without being able to control his own persona, with the Shadow lashing out every time that Makoto offers his emotional support. Eventually, they notice that the giant ball of hope is getting heavier to the point of nearly crushing Makoto, who’s holding up the globe like Atlas holding the sky. His Shadow’s about ready to cry, begging the others to stop as Makoto encourages them all to keeping fighting and to not give up now. The battle only stops when they finally get Makoto to confess that he’s not always the bright ball of sunshine that they think he is and that even he needs help sometimes. With that resolved, the shadow returns to being Makoto’s persona, now instead of Lincoln, he is Logos (basically the closest to Jesus as I can get without making an even bigger mess in the MegaTen universe)

[Holy shit, I feel like I wrote a whole novel here! I’m ending this here, good night!}

---

Mod: The design for Makot's shadow is so flipping awesome. It’s so fitting for Makoto considering that he’s the main speaker during the class trials (cause MC and all) and this is literally a trial his shadow is holding, with the shields and revolver in each hand. Though my favourite is him holding up the worlds hope like Atlas with the sky, cause it’s still my favourite part of his character development that he admits in the DR3 anime that he’s sometimes really overwhelmed with always having to be positive as the Ultimate Hope but still keeps it up for ever (and as entertaining the anime was, it was one of the only good things it did story wise, but that’s a different topic altogether...)

The palace must be so disturbing for the party, cause up until now every palace was basically a fantasy place representing something of the person’s life/personality. But now they are in a twisted and later on gory version of their own school, and still don’t know anything of the past timeline. But things are starting to get unravelled now. Though most disturbing must be the memorial garden for their very much alive friends. The fact that the survivors, who were not among the memorial photos, are the judges who look like they experiences something very awful and traumatic. Not to mention the tons of destroyed Junko photos

That the minibosses are the victims in an all horror like fashion, where I’m imagining something along the lines of DR3 anime with Makoto’s despair hallucination, must be so brutal cause these are literally the “corpses” of their friends that are attacking them, who are in this timeline alive and happy

I can only imagine how hard it must have been for everyone to see how Makoto’s shadow actually is, which is basically being overwhelmed with all the support he has to give all the time. Cause everyone does lean a lot on Makoto (not that leaning on people is bad, but there is a limit how much one person can handle, even for Makoto)

#submission #danganronpa #dangan persona au #makoto naegi #friendlylifecherry

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elydraws · 4 years

Text

— haikyuu!! oneshot.

heartbeat in the court

introduction: finally the big day of the Miyagi prefecture qualifying finals has arrived. Karasuno would have faced Shiratorizawa and you too had the opportunity to confront your stepbrother, Wakatoshi Ushijima.

this oneshot takes place during the Spring Interhigh Qualifiers final. you, despite being a girl, are accepted into the men's volleyball team thanks to your talent as a Middle Blocker. but what the rest of the team doesn't know is your bond with the captain of the opposing team and your hostility towards him, largely reciprocated. in all of this, with so much at stake, just when things seem to get out of hand, you'll find yourself relying on Nishinoya. Realizing that he has always been by your side.

⤿ pairing: nishinoya x reader, nishinoya x (y/n)

⤿ warnings: fluff, hints of divorce and neglect, sibling rivalry, hints of discrimination against women.

>a/n: hello everyone, initially, I had imagined this one-shot with an OC created by me, which pre-made would be Ann Takamaki from Persona 5.

still, since it would have been very restrictive for some people, I preferred not to specify the physical appearance and make it become a nishinoyaxreader, instead of a nishinoyaxoc.

obviously being Ushijima's half-sister, the surname is necessarily that of his father (Utsui), be patient about it çwç

Also in my head, the protagonist is about six inches taller than Nishinoya, but I have not specified anything about the height, so you are free to imagine her as you like!

I leave you to read, and as usual, I apologize for my english!

Shivers ran through your arms. The game was still at the beginning, barely halfway through the first set, but the air on the field was heavy.

Not even the choirs praising the two teams could muffle the ball's snap against the floor when Ushijima hit it.

Even among the reserves, you could feel the heaviness of those blows. But your eyes couldn't leave the ball, focused on one goal.

You would have liked to enter the field immediately, to demonstrate your skills, and that you were able to stand up to the captain of the Shiratorizawa, but it was not yet time.

You didn't know if Coach Ukai understood your determination to stop Wakatoshi's dunk, especially given the difficulties the first-strings were having. Not that anyone could not blame him. The fact that you had entered the men's team - thanks also to your insistence - was in itself a miracle. Anatomically, both for physical strength and - in most cases - for height, women were weaker than men. But that hadn't been able to stop you.

After playing for a short time on the girls' team, who didn't seem to take volleyball as seriously as the men's, you had decided to put forward a proposal that for many had seemed absurd.

That was the only way you could prove to your father, Takashi Utsui, that you could have been at the same level as Wakatoshi. It had taken two weeks to convince Coach Ukai that you had nothing to envy to the rest of the team. Where your physical strength wasn't enough, you reach them in speed - the only other team member faster than you was Hinata - and if the height wasn't enough, you jumped higher.

Your wall might not be as stable as Asahi's or Tsukishima's. Still, you could read your opponents' intentions and readily respond to their attacks, slowing or deflecting them by using that power against them. That was your strength.

However, the Coach didn't know that you had trained all your life to block Shiratorizawa's captain dunks. Where for many, a left-handed opponent was a problem, you knew exactly how to stop him.

You had studied it for a long time and know how he played. You had learned to read him.

And now that you were so close to your target, being able to observe it so closely, without doing anything, was making you nervous.

This feeling was starting to become evident as you shifted your weight from foot to foot under Sugawara's inquiring gaze.

"Uh ... Are you all right?" the sound of his voice roused you.

You were so absorbed in the game that you didn't even hear him say your name.

"You look pretty sensitive today, are you okay?"

"Yes, I would just like to enter the field and help my teammates, that's all!" you lied, waving a hand in front of your face as if you wanted to brush off his worries.

"If you say so..." Koshi returned to observe the game shouting cheers to the team after giving you a last doubtful look.

You could barely hold back a sigh of relief.

You didn't tell anyone on the team about your family connection with Ushijima.

First of all, it didn't seem like there was anything to brag about, nor that it was relevant information for the team -you had already given all your observations regarding Wakatoshi's game to Kiyoko-. Also, no one had investigated it, mostly thanks to your surnames' diversity, and you were happy to gloss over the subject. The relationship between your two families was something you didn't like to talk about.

Takashi Utsui had divorced Ushijima's mother when he was still a child, thanks to an extramarital affair with a foreign partner, or your mother, who then became pregnant. At first, the story had covered up by keeping the pregnancy a secret until Utsui's first marriage could no longer handle both spouses' unhappiness.

So Takashi moved to America with your mother, but you knew that his heart had remained in Japan with his son. No matter how good you were, Utsui only saw Ushijima.

Despite their distance, he was always informed about his scholastic and sporting results to the point of having reports sent about him or cutting out sports articles that mentioned his name. He often called him secretly from his ex-wife, giving him friendly advice on his game or complimenting his victories.

He is so focused on Wakatoshi that he couldn't even see you.

No matter how many trophies you won or if you became the captain of your team, Ushijima always did something extra to win - even if not intentionally - your father's attention.

And things got worse when, for work reasons, the whole family was forced to return to Japan. In the same prefecture where Ushijima played.

So when you entered in the first year of high school, there was only one thing you wanted to prove to your father: you were worth as much as your stepbrother. At first, you believed you could prove that truth thanks to the women's team, but when you started training, you realized that it was not with them that you would reach that goal, and it was almost a coincidence when that idea had crossed your mind.

You accidentally overheard a call between your father and Ushijima one night while your brother told Utsui how that short little Karasuno guy had threatened him to win the final. That statement had gotten on Wakatoshi's nerves, admitting he couldn't stand unwarranted arrogance

. The thing had you on a rampage.

Wakatoshi was like that. He belittled and looked down on everyone. He had done it with you too on the rare occasions you had met in the past, his gaze seemed to judge you every time, and his indifference showed how little he thought of you.

So you decided that if the Karasuno men's team wanted to kick Ushijima's butt so badly, you would more than willingly help them and that this would be the perfect opportunity to prove to your father that you too were worthy of his attention.

But now that you found yourself in the showdown, with the Shiratorizawa continuing to accumulate points after points without your team being able to recover, it was starting to make you hold your breath.

You began to believe that, at that rate, there would be no opportunity for you to play.

The referee's whistle filled the gym, and suddenly there was an almost deathly silence.

Wakatoshi lifted the ball into the air for his next serve.

At that moment, a scream tore through the air "COME ON! BRING IT ON" Nishinoya must have screamed with all the air in his lungs because his voice's sure timbre made your knees tremble with its intensity. For the first time during the match, your eyes left Ushijima's statuesque figure to dwell on the small one of Yu.

But no matter how small in stature he was at that moment, his presence had conquered the entire field, obscuring even that of the captain of the Shiratorizawa. A smile involuntarily pursed your lips.

The slap of Wakatoshi's hand startled even the reserves as the ball crossed the field so fast that you could hardly follow its path.

On the stands, Shiratorizawa's cheering was ready to cheer on another point as the ball headed into the disputed part of the pitch, right in the middle between Daichi and Nishinoya.They both moved, ready to take it.

Next to you, Yamaguchi made a horrified squeak covering his eyes. "Oh, no! They will collide!"

Such a thought was understandable, neither player had called it, yet they both leaned towards the ball, ready to take it. You would have liked to look away not to see Daichi's figure colliding with Yu's.

Your heart was beating madly against your chest, yet a part of you knew that Nishinoya would succeed. You had learned to read determination in his gaze, and if there was one thing you knew, it was that no matter how impossible a ball seemed, Nishinoya would have intercepted it.

Your blocks, with him on the court, were even more effective. Your team play was close to perfect when it came to coordination: if you slowed down a ball, Nishinoya was right behind you, ready to catch it.

That's why you knew Yu would succeed this time. He would intercept that scary service.

It was a moment, Daichi withdrew, leaving space for Nishinoya to receive, and everyone held their breath in the gym when the number 4 dropped to his knees and stretched out his arms. As it hit his forearms, the ball slowed and rose for the rest of the team to catch it.

In the Karasuno camp, there was a sigh of relief and surprise before Sugawara, Hinata, and Yamaguchi shouted in chorus: "He got it!"

Yet another shiver ran down your back, but this time, it was an almost pleasant sensation as a wave of heat spread over your abdomen as your cries of joy joined those of the other reserves: "Good job Nishinoya-kun! I knew you could make it! " you didn't know if he heard you or have time to investigate Yu's curious blush on cheeks that Tanaka scored and sent the team wired.

Nishinoya ran to high-five Tanaka, while Sugawara almost thoughtlessly hugged you in enthusiasm.

"Hey! If anyone here has to be hugged by (y / n), it's me!" Nishinoya complained, pointing at number 2 with a homicidal air.

"Or me!" Tanaka joined, giving support to his companion.

Sugawara blushed, apologizing to all three. "Forgive me. I got carried away."

You laughed, finally relieved of the heaviness felt up to that moment, "Don’t worry Nishinoya, if you continue to play like this, there will be more hugs for you!" you teased him with a wink.

That promise left the number 4 speechless.

Maybe you broke him.

Nishinoya stared at you with blank eyes, entirely still.

You blinked a couple of times, wondering what to do when an almost feral scream rose from his lips "BRING IT ON! I WILL SHOW YOU! I WON'T MISS A BALL!" it looked like he was going to explode at any moment.

Sugawara lowered his shoulders, frowning. "Now I'm almost afraid for Shiratorizawa," he murmured, studying Yu inhale and exhale like fury, taking a new position on the field.

You lowered your head, "Forgive me, maybe I exaggerated ... but better this way, right?" you played down, giggling.

You knew that Nishinoya - as well as Tanaka - had a soft spot for practically... the entire female population of this earth. Still, you would never have imagined a similar reaction from him for a simple hug. Strangely though, it pleased you, and you found yourself smiling.

Shiratorizawa won the first set.

During the second, however, it seemed to rebalance. In the end, both the team seemed to struggle to keep up.

Shiratorizawa was deciding the pace of the game, and you didn't like it at all. It was as if they already knew they were going to win, and that belief was the same as your stepbrother, that blind arrogance in believing themselves the best.

You started eating your thumbnail to the point of almost bleeding as you glanced nervously at Coach Ukai in a silent request, but he seemed to ignore your need and impatience.

You had already begged to join the game after the last time-out.

"I know I can do it" were these the words you said to Ukai as he silently stared at you, with his head lowered, "I can stop Ushijima."

But it hadn't helped. It wasn't your time yet. You didn't know if Ukai would ever give you the chance to play during that game, but one thing was sure: the coach had read that assurance's in your eyes.

Then, with just a few points at the end of the set, it happened. The tactic for containing Ushijima had begun to work. Thanks to the three-way block, Nishinoya seemed to want to fulfill the promise you made him during the previous set, intercepting every ball that the block diverted towards him.

Shiratorizawa seemed less scary now.

Tsukishima certainly has exceptional timing, you thought as the team took a moment to congratulate each other, who knows if with him on the field I'll be able to get in.

Your hopes seemed to vanish when Tsukishima scored a point, making them win the second set with a block on a dunk from Ushijima.

Although you cheered along with the others, there was a part of you that kept thinking, 'I wish I were the one to hit that spot' or 'I should have been the first to block his attack'.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of those evil thoughts.

"Oi!" Nishinoya called you as the teams changed sides for the third set. "Why that worried face?" he asked, tilting his head with a cocky smile "look, it's too late to renege on your promise."

You jumped, taken by surprise, yet you were convinced that your smile had diverted the team's attention on something else. Still, it wasn't enough to confuse Yuu.

"Oh, it's nothing," you sketched an embarrassed smile when those envious thoughts crossed your head one more time "I would just like to enter the field too, that's all," you admitted knowing you couldn't hide anything from Yu "it's an important game ..." especially for me.

Nishinoya showed his best smile, vigorously slapping his open palm against your back. "I'm sure the coach will let you in before the end. The Nishinoya-Utsui pairing makes sparks!"

At those words, your cheeks flushed.

Perhaps also realizing what Yu had said or aware of your reaction, he winced, embarrassed, and redder than a tomato. His hand quickly moved away from your back as he tried to compose himself, assuming a casual air. "Here ... I meant that ..."

"Nishinoya !!" Hinata called him, already positioned in the field, "Hurry up!"

Number 4 jumped at the chance. "See you soon on the pitch then, show Shiratorizawa what you can do!" he encouraged her, running away to the second line.

You waved a hello absently, smiling gratefully.

When was the last time someone had trusted you so much?

The joy of winning the last set was brief.

Shiratorizawa retook control of the game, taking home the third set.

Even Nishinoya seemed to have gotten nervous, and apparently, it wasn't just the rivalry that arose between him and your stepbrother. Still, you also heard him muttering something through gritted teeth like "Damn Ushijima! You won't stop me from having a hug from (y / n)"

He must have taken it personally...

"Come on, Nishinoya!" you yelled from the bench as the ball passed into Shiratorizawa's pitch.

The game was tense.

You could feel the heart contort with every hit and dunk of the opposing team, and a sigh of relief came from the lips every time Nishinoya or Daichi retrieved a ball. You were on your nerves, and you weren't with them.

Keep calm, keep repeating yourself; your time will come.

When the referee whistled the end of the fourth set for Karasuno, your shoulders relaxed with a hand resting on your chest. "Thank goodness ..." you sighed in relief, almost wholly forgetting the dark thoughts that had clouded your team spirit.

You couldn't let self-centeredness make you like Ushijima.

You were different.

Also, some people believed in you despite everything, like Nishinoya.

The thought helped you better tolerate the idea of not entering the field to prove your worth to your father.

By now, you were in peace when it happened.

At the beginning of the last set, the decisive and most important one, Tsukishima, injured his hand.

When you saw the blood dripping into the space between his fingers and into his palm, you felt your stomach turn.

"Utsui!" Ukai's voice roused you like from a nightmare, making you jump.

"Yup!" you replied, ready and decisive, trying to shake off the feeling of having wanted to play so much that it caused that incident in Tsukishima's hand.

While Kei wrapped his injured hand around a towel, you approached, "Hey Tsukishima..."

With his usual indifferent expression, he turned, but you recognized that light in his eyes, the disappointment of not participating in such a crucial moment.

Swallows, you clench your hand into a fist "You were incredible," you admitted, smiling triumphantly. "I'll keep expectations high."

He did not seem impressed, instead looked away, turning away from you. "Don't ruin everything," but there was no bitterness in his voice.

"Just saying 'good luck' would have worked out anyway, you know?" you teased him as he started to walk away. "Move to come back, I can't wait to slam the victory in your face" you mocked him to ease the tension, but you knew that leaving at such a moment was a big wound in his pride.

The only thing you could do to make him feel better was to win that game.

Finally, on the pitch, you started to feel your heart beating against your eardrums. It was your moment. Right there, at that exact moment.

Daichi clapped his hands, rallying the team, "Come on! Focus!"

As you approached the rest of your teammates, you could hear a strange buzz in the stands. Probably many were questioning the coach's choice to have a woman play, also as a central, against a giant like Ushijima.

"Ehhhh? A woman?" Satori, on the other side of the net, stared at the field in your direction, following you with his eyes, before turning to the rest of the team "they don't think we'll hold back for this, do they?" Ushijima studied you in silence, while you seemed to be trying to take stock of the situation with the rest of the team. "Of course not." His voice, grave and low, caught the rest of his team's attention before returning behind the line.

"(y / n) don't be intimidated by Ushijima!" Tanaka assured you, "we managed to keep up with him until now, and we will continue to do so!" You turned your head, hardly hearing Ryunosuke's words as your gaze fixed on your stepbrother's massive figure across the field.

"Uhm... (y / n)?"

"Don't worry about me," your voice sliced through the air like a knife. "I've been preparing myself for this moment all my life."

Some of your teammates exchanged confused glances before nodding resolutely, thinking you were referring to the final, saying that it was the right spirit.

Before each taking their positions, Nishinoya reached out with a closed fist towards you. "What did I tell you?" he exclaimed satisfied, stiffening "let's show Shiratorizawa what we can do! I am right behind you (y / n). They won't beat us!"

You nodded, punching his fist in response.

No, you would not have lost for you. For Nishinoya's trust. For Tsukishima's hard work. For the team.

You soon found yourself face to face with Ushijima, right under the net.

He towered in front of you with an aura that you were sure would make anyone else tremble and flee. But not you.

You positioned yourself in front of him without batting an eye and fixed your gaze with him.

The rest of the team must have realized that something was wrong, too, because many of their eyes were now fixed on you.

"How long, Wakatoshi ..." you greeted him, lapidary, narrowing your eyelids.

"(y / n)" The captain of the Shiratorizawa didn't flinch, while the rest of your companions winced.

"Hey! Don't take all these confidences ..." Nishinoya grumbled, referring to the fact that Ushijima had just called you by your first name.

"Uh? Do you know each other?" Satori asked, pointing at you with his index finger.

Wakatoshi nodded, serious, "Yes, she is my stepsister."

A strange silence filled the field.

"STEPSISTER?!?!?!?!?!" the scream rose suddenly on both sides of the field, almost forcing the referee to recall the teams.

"W-what? Why didn't you ever tell us, huh?!" inquired Hinata, shocked, looking first at your back and then at Wakatoshi's face.

You didn't turn around, unable to leave that war of gazes with your opponent. "It wasn't relevant."

"It wasn't ..." Sugawara repeated softly.

"... relevant?" Daichi finished, frowning.

"It didn't matter," you repeated softly to Wakatoshi, while an arrogant smile formed on your lips, "because you are now my opponent, and I am your block to break down. Get ready to see your dunks fail, big brother" you mocked the last word vehemently without batting an eyelid when Ushijima smiled, menacingly.

"All this arrogance ... it gets on my nerves."

"... Even your sister is a monster ..." Satori murmured, recognizing in you at that moment, the same authoritative decision and confidence of his captain.

Asahi almost took a step back, intimidated. "Yes ... now I'm starting to see some similarities."

Nishinoya's eyes flashed with admiration, "Show him (y / n)!"

When the whistle came, you were ready.

Shiratorizawa's line flew over the net, and Daichi was there, catching it "Sugawara!"

Koshi lifted the hide as you, the winger, and Tanaka approached the net simultaneously.

I'll hit her. I'm going to smack her and score.

But the ball passed right over your fingers, straight at Rynosuke. His dunk touched Satori's guess block and was intercepted by their Liber ready to be lifted for a dunk by Ushijima.

This is the moment I've been waiting for!

An adrenaline rush ran through your entire body as you ran towards the balloon, getting ready to jump.

I annoyed him, you thought quickly, and his self-centeredness will make him believe he will wipe me out. He will not aim to overtake us but break through the wall of pure power, right on me.

Like an open book to you, Wakatoshi did what you predicted.

He charged the shot and struck, right on your hands.

It hurt.

More than you imagined.

You felt your fingers bend backward, your palms burn, and your arms give way. You couldn't compete with him in brute strength, but as he trained every day to power up his dunk, you had been studying a way to thwart it.

The position of your hands did the trick.

The ball's power worked in your favor, its trajectory following the angle of your fingers, bouncing back towards Ushijima before falling, amidst the astonishment of the entire gym, in the middle of the opponent's field.

When your feet hit the ground, the gym exploded with screams.

You were so happy that you almost didn't realize how red and sore your hands were. You didn't care.

When you turned to the rest of the team, you almost fell backward as they all ran in your direction to compliment or hug you.

Satori stared at you, his eyes still bulging. "Yes ... a monster..." he mumbled before falling silent on seeing Ushijima's expression "is-it was just a stroke of luck ..." he reassured him, but Wakatoshi didn't even listen to him.

Nishinoya was the last to walk away from you, gently grasping your wrists, before carefully studying your dark-faced hands.

When you noticed his expression, you tried to withdraw your hands from his grasp, sweet and firm, without succeeding. "Oh, don't worry, it will pass."

Yu remained with his eyes down on your wounds. "I know there is probably a reason and that this game is important to you ... you probably want to prove something to Ushijima, and that's okay, but ... don't get down like that," you blush, while Nishinoya lifted his face with a solemn and severe air, "I told you even before, right? I'm behind you, watching your back."

You swallow as Yu walked away, taking his place in the center of the field. You were so shocked by his resolve that you didn't notice his expression -all satisfied- as he settled into position, under Tanaka's grim gaze, who was muttering something between his teeth like 'and stop saying such cool things...'.

The followings points were a constant chase.

It did not matter who won the first point; the other team followed suit; neither of them decided to let go even for a moment.

It was clear that there was an open war between you and Ushijima. Wherever he crushed, you were there.

Your hands still hurt, and you knew that that kind of block was a gamble, especially now without the surprise effect, and the captain of the Shiratorizawa was now much more attentive to your moves.

But it doesn't matter, you thought, trying to block another one of his dunks with Sugawara and Tanaka, you just need to slow it down a bit.

The ball touched your fingers and slid past you, losing some of its speed.

"First touch!"

You didn't even turn around to check; you knew Nishinoya was there, ready to receive it.

It doesn't matter that I stop it completely..., you repeated to yourself with a smile and a light, confident soul, because you are right behind me, aren't you Nishinoya?

"MINE!" Yu's voice came loudly behind you, and the ball didn't touch the floor.

When the action was over, you turned around, your forehead wet with sweat and your hair stuck to your cheeks despite having tried to keep it away from your face.

You were out of breath, but you didn't feel tired, although bridging the gap between you and the rest of the team took a lot of energy.

But when you met Nishinoya's proud gaze, nothing mattered anymore. Yu raised both hands in a high-five, "Nice save!"

"Nice reception."

However, the game had just entered its most intense phase, Ushijima began to get nervous, and the tension was accumulating point by point as well as fatigue.

At the end of the set, you were almost breathless. You wiped your face with the shirt's edge, resuming your position.

Generally, you didn't stay on the team very much because your physique had to endure the physical gap, consuming more energy. You always had to jump higher than you should have against a women's team, run faster to get the edge, and your stamina wasn't as infinite as Hinata's. You also began to feel the stress of having to replace Tsukishima and keep everyone's expectations high.

No, I can't give up.

You could feel the breath of Shiratorizawa on your neck, and when you looked around, after the last point of the opponents, you felt the floor fail under your feet.

No matter how well we played, it was as impossible to detach the Shiratorizawa.

You gritted your teeth, shaking your head, as Ushijima's face painted that self-righteous look you hated so much.

"No matter how hard you try, the result will always be the same," he stated in front of the net, observing from above your petite figure bent on his knees in fatigue, "We will win."

The grip of your fingers tightened on your knees as you barely restrained a curse.

It wasn't supposed to end like this, no, no!

"DON'T DARE TO LOOK DOWN!" Ukai's scream crossed the two fields like lightning.

You raised your head, observing him with wide eyes, and at that same moment, the gym doors opened, while Tsukishima ran on the edge again of the field under the astonished gaze of all of you.

You saw the coach give him the card with your number for the change, despite the bandaged hand, and stand on the bench waiting to enter the field.

You sighed in relief, thank goodness, he's okay then.

That probably would have been your last point and the last of the game if Shiratorizawa had scored, you couldn't lose, not now.

The serve was from Shiratorizawa, a float that Daichi managed to intercept, but the opponents were able to predict your attack, and it was once again the chance for Ushijima to score.

By the time your brain processed that information, the adrenaline was already circulating in your blood.

Your heart was beating against your ribs until it rumbled in your eardrums, you did not feel the fatigue in your legs as they sprinted towards the ball, predicting where the lifter would pass it Wakatoshi. "I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO MAKE THIS POINT!" you shouted, throwing yourself with all the strength you had to reinforce Kageyama and Asahi's double block.

Focused on the ball, you did not notice the shiny spot on the floor, and when the toe landed on it, it slipped.

"(Y / N)!" someone shouted from the bench, but you ignored him, miraculously catching yourself with the other leg and throwing yourself into the air before it was too late.

It doesn't matter how ... but I have to slow down that ball..., you thought, gritting your teeth, trying in every way to give yourself as much elevation as possible with just one foot.

The pain was sharp, and for a moment, your vision blurred until it was completely dark.

The only thing you could see was the little lights shining behind your eyelids, the intense stab of pain radiating from the center of your face to your neck's base, and something warm dripping down your chin.

You had managed to reach the ball, but despite having recovered from the fall, the elevation you had given yourself with only one leg was not enough. The ball had hit you in the face as you were approaching the net in midair without succeeding to raise your hands, still busy trying to regain your balance.

You heard someone shout your name behind you, and you didn't know where the ball was or what was going on on the pitch.

There was just that twinge of pain at the base of your nose, but maybe that was what kept you conscious and clear enough to make you scream, "THE BALL!" before you hit the ground.

The last thing you perceived was the sound of heartfelt footsteps, and finally, the referee's whistle marked the point.

When you found the courage to open your eyes, the rest of your companions were around you, first of all, Nishinoya "(Y / N)! Are you okay?"

You closed your eyelids, grabbing your nose with one hand, before lifting your head to stop the blood from continuing to come out.

"Did we... did we score?" you whispered between your teeth, barely holding back an expression of pain.

The rest of the team stared at you as if you were mad.

"Yes," was Kageyama, who answered, pointing to the scoreboard.

"Thank goodness ..." you sighed in relief, before meeting Nishinoya's stern gaze.

"You should worry about your condition!" number 4 scolded her, bending over to better observe the wound while muttering, "I told you not to reduce yourself like this" "I slipped ..." you murmured, looking away as if it were an excuse. Kiyoko ran to bring you a towel from the bench while Nishinoya continued to stare at you, worried, "We will win for you too."

You smiled, nodding, before turning around. "I count on it."

"You should go and show yourself in the infirmary ..." Coach Ukai began after giving the okay to Tsukishima to enter your seat.

"NO!" you snapped, pointing your feet, all those present looked at you with wide eyes. "It will stop bleeding soon! And then ..." you turned around to observe the rest of the team from over your shoulder, "and then I can't leave them right now" you turned around, following the coach with eyes shining with pain and emotion. "Please!"

He looked away, sighing in resignation. "As soon as the match is over, run to the nurse without making a fuss, am I clear?"

Your face lit up as you nodded.

Fortunately, the blood stopped coming out a few minutes later, while Kiyoko patiently helped you clean the one encrusted on the skin, you stared with bated breath the rest of the game.

They were the last points.

And then it came.

Karasuno was missing only one point to go home winners. Only one.

The entire team rose into the air to crush Kageyama's riser.

At that moment, the air vibrated.

You couldn't take your eyes off your teammates as Hinata finally hit the ball on the second line. You held your breath.

Shiratorizawa's Libero shot for the dunk, but he was too slow, the ball touched his forearm and took the wrong trajectory going out of bounds.

You jumped to your feet, heart pounding, as Shiratorizawa's number 4 dashed over the baseline to retrieve it.

But the ball was too far. It flew over the linesman and fell to the ground.

For a long, unending, second no one in the gym spoke.

Time had stopped until the referee whistled the point for Karasuno. The decisive one.

We won...

And the cry from the stands rose so high that your eardrums were shaking, while the Karasuno team remained motionless, still incredulous.

Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara, were the first to move with tentative steps, looking for each other. They were hugging each other, letting out a scream that seemed to have remained in their hearts too long as they cried like little boys.

And after them, everyone followed.

Completely forgetting the promise made to the coach, you threw yourself on the field along with the other reserves, completely ignoring the sore nose and red face as warm tears had started running down your cheeks.

You must have looked awful, sweaty, aching, and in a vale of tears, but you didn't care.

None of that mattered now, as you screamed into the arms of your companions, still incredulous.

And amid those black uniforms, your arms instinctively sought the only orange stain.

Nishinoya fell to the ground as you clung to his neck, sinking your face against his chest as your tears wiped from his shirt.

"We won! We won!" you repeated ad nauseam before looking up at Yu.

Had he always been this good-looking? With that cheeky smile painted on his lips, the sweaty hair and skin reflecting the gym lights, those big hazel eyes so bright, and that cute blush that spread over the tip of his nose and cheeks when you were near him?

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laughing, completely ignoring the embarrassment of having you on top of him. "I didn't think you would keep your promise so soon," he admitted pausing to study your face.

Suddenly, you remembered the condition you were supposed to be in and again hid your face on his chest. "Don't look at me! I'm horrible right now!" you begged him, trying to get away, but Nishinoya's grip tightened, preventing it.

"You have never been more beautiful."

Your heart skipped a beat at those words.

You slowly looked up, and you could see in his big brown eyes that he wasn't lying, he couldn't, looking at you with so much admiration.

When you became aware of your actions again, your lips were already pressed against Nishinoya's.

His lips were soft and slightly salty from the sweat. There was a sweetish aftertaste that you would not have known how to identify, but that you liked to the point of pressing your mouth harder against his. Perhaps, you did it even a little out of desperation, hoping that that gesture would stimulate him to do anything.

Yu remained motionless, completely blown away. He was staring at you with wide eyes, peering at your face pressed against his trying to register what was happening.

Holding you close to him was the right stimulus to awaken him, finally bringing him back to reality.

His hands ran through your hair, trying to get you closer than you already were to him, and he closed his eyes, tasting the numbness of your lips against his.

It was a quick, hasty, clumsy kiss, but it was perfect that way.

"Damn ..." a voice above you suddenly made you remember where you were.

Tanaka towered above both of you as he stretched his knuckles, with the rest of the team behind him staring at you, embarrassed, amused, and even a little amazed.

"Um... we should line up... you know?" Sugawara interjected, uncertain, pointing to the back of the field. "As soon as you finished ..." he added with a more mischievous smile, winking at Nishinoya, who jumped up, red in the face, under the steely gaze of Tanaka.

"Why did you only get the girls?!" the shaved-haired boy cried in frustration as he dragged a still slowed Nishinoya with him, too busy throwing glances over his shoulder to focus on his friend's words.

You found yourself smiling dreamily, red in the face, as you followed your teammates along the bottom line, taking a seat next to Yu.

Number 4's hand clenched together with yours as he winked at you before bowing to the other team, "Always behind you, watching your back."

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feferipeixes · 3 years

Text

The Good Lines (1/3)

Trapped in an unfamiliar world, Alcor finds that he doesn’t mind the loneliness. He doesn’t care about finding a way out. He doesn’t even care about Mizar. All he cares about is solving puzzles, and drawing the good lines.

(or: I Think Dipper Should Play The Witness)

Chapter 1: Tutorial (link to chapter 2) (3)

I promised this a year ago and it’s finally happening! No knowledge about The Witness necessary -- this is basically a TAU fic. Thanks @toothpastecanyon for beta reading it!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

One of the first signs that something was wrong was the silence.

Alcor didn't know when it had happened, but at some point he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a living thing. Sure, he could hear the grass crunch beneath his shoes, and the babble of the river cascading down the mountainside. When the silence got to be too much, he’d listen to those things as closely as he could.

He never heard a cicada screech, though, never heard a squirrel chitter, never heard a wolf howl. One time, he wandered through the forest and was assaulted by the chirping of birds, but when he looked closer he noticed that there were speakers hidden in the trees. That confused him even more, because who decided a forest needed assistance in creating an ambiance? Would the speakers switch from birds to crickets when it got dark out?

The next thing he noticed was that it never got dark out either.

Another strange thing: his magic wasn't working. He walked upon the ground instead of floating above it. He saw the physical shape of things instead of the shape of the ideas they embodied. And his hand didn't alight in flame when he snapped his fingers. He was still a demon -- he could see it in the pitch black reflection of his eyes when he looked in the ocean -- but it seemed less relevant right now. Which was without a doubt extremely odd.

However curious these things were though, he didn't have much of a chance to dwell on them. He was too busy drawing the good lines.

The panels were everywhere on the island. They were all sorts of materials -- some made of metal with a plastic border, some made of glass so he could see the scenery as he drew, and some were just embedded into the concrete he walked on. Many of them were connected with thick wires. They all had a grid of some sort on them, sometimes containing fanciful shapes and dots. All had one or more bulbous circles somewhere on the grid, as well as one or more rounded off ends. Some of them were pretty to look at, but he knew they weren't just for show. They were puzzles.

He couldn't remember when he'd discovered it. Maybe someone had told him (who? He was all alone). Maybe there were instructions on one of the panels (but he'd never seen any text on the island). Or maybe it was just instinct that led him to reach out and touch a panel, right on one of the large circles. It made a little popping noise, letting him know this was okay to do, and to keep going. So he dragged his claw across the grid, and as he did so, he drew a line. It was simple, it was effortless, it was satisfying. He drew the line around intersections in the grid to one of the rounded off bits and lifted his finger. The panel flashed angrily and highlighted some of the symbols on the grid.

Oh no. That was a Bad Line.

Frowning, he tried again; touching the circle, dragging his claw through the grid in a different pattern this time, and letting go at an end. The panel made a squeaky little beep, and the wire leading out of it lit up.

Alcor smiled. That was a Good Line.

---

There was a mountain at one end of the island. Well, it looked like a mountain, and the climate at the top was dramatically different from that at the bottom, but there was no way it was tall enough to really be considered a mountain. It only took a few minutes for Alcor to follow the path to the top, and he wasn’t even using any kind of demonic superspeed.

The summit was covered in weird stuff, but at this point Alcor would’ve been surprised if such a significant-looking location on this weird island wasn’t covered in weird stuff. Still, he wouldn’t have guessed that it would be covered in random statues of humans. There was an old man speaking at a podium, a figure in a trenchcoat using a camera on a tripod, a librarian gesturing angrily, and so on.

There were two statues at the center under three parabolic arches. One was a young man with a strange ladle-shaped mark etched onto his forehead, struggling to carry a large yellow box covered in images of eyes and which had a thick cable coming out of it. The other was a young woman in a sweater, holding the box’s cable taut and seemingly trying to pull the first statue back. All of the statues seemed vaguely familiar -- especially the two in the middle -- but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He eventually decided it was just because humans all look the same.

There was another thing he found while observing the statues: a tape recorder, sitting on a rock near the statue with the tripod. It looked positively archaic in design, and only had one button on it. When he pressed the button, the voice that came out was so clear that it was almost as if the words were being transmitted directly into his brain.

“Up there you go around every hour and a half, time after time after time.”

He frowned at the odd device and cocked his head. It was nice to hear a voice for the first time in what seemed like forever, but he had no idea what it was talking about. He pressed the button again to no effect. The voice just kept talking.

“And you realize that in one glance that what you’re seeing is what was the whole history of man for years.”

Whatever. He decided to ignore it and take in the lovely view instead. He could see almost the whole island from up there, from the desert to the quarry to the forest to the swamp. There was something stunning about the diversity of landscape he could see from one spot. And yet, it wasn’t quite the beauty of the sights before him that made him marvel. It was the thought of all of the unsolved puzzles he was yet to find.

“You finally come up across the coast of California and look for those friendly things.”

There only seemed to be one panel at the mountain’s summit, and it was hardly a puzzle -- just a single zigzagging line. Quick as a whistle, he tapped the starting node, dragged his finger up, and released. It made all of the same sounds the other panels did, but it was kind of disappointing. There was no challenge in it, nothing to occupy his mind or give him a sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t a Good Line or a Bad Line, it was just… a line.

Huh.

“And you do it again and again and again. You look forward to that, you anticipate it. And there it is. That whole process begins to shift of what it is you identify with.”

He set off down the mountain again, and headed toward the greenhouse he’d noticed on his way up. Just as he expected, it was full of puzzles. Surrounded by colorful flowers, he stared at a panel and thought, and thought, and thought.

Hours passed. He solved two more.

“You look down there and you can’t imagine how many borders and boundaries you crossed again and again and again. And you don’t even see ‘em. All of history and music and poetry and art and war and death and birth and love, tears, joy, games, all of it is on that little spot out there that you can cover with your thumb.”

Alcor bounced between areas on the island when he got stuck, always breezing past the scenery without a second glance because there were more important things to attend to. Across the island and toward the desert. Across the island to climb through a treehouse. Across the island to get lost in a boat. He waited for it to blur together but it never did.

“And you realize with that perspective that you’ve changed. That there’s something new there. That relationship is no longer what it was.”

It was peculiar, if he did let himself think about it. He didn’t want to -- didn’t want to give the voice that kind of victory -- but in between panels he sometimes needed a little break and there were only a limited number of things to put his attention to in this place. So, occasionally, he let himself wonder why he was alone.

This was not an unfamiliar question for him. He could come up with a million reasons for it right off the top of his head. He was immortal, so maybe everyone else in the universe was just dead. He was a monster, so maybe everyone else in the universe was just scared of him. He was a dream demon, so maybe he was just buried so deep in the Mindscape that he couldn’t find his way out.

Somehow, none of those reasons felt like the truth. If they were, he’d probably be sadder.

“And you think about what you’re experiencing and why. Do you deserve this? This fantastic experience? Have you earned this in some way? Are you separated out to be touched by God to have some special experience here that other men cannot have? You know the answer to that is No. There’s nothing that you’ve done that deserves that, that earned that.”

Besides, there wasn’t anything to be sad about, if he really really thought about it over and over again until words lost all meaning. He was Alcor the Dreambender, after all! He was the most powerful entity in the universe. Feared like a demon by the masses, revered like a deity by the foolish. All because he’d had the great fortune to rid the world of a villainous creature of destructive chaos.

He did deserve it. He was special. He spent a day lying face up on a rooftop in the town, thinking these things to himself on loop.

“When you come back, there’s a difference in that world now, there’s a difference in that relationship between you and that planet, and you and all those other forms of life on that planet, because you’ve had that kind of experience.”

Past the town there was a little peninsula with some sort of old building on it. Alcor made his way over, but when he got there he was dismayed to find not a single puzzle in sight. There was, however, a statue of a man kneeling on the floor. Alcor jumped when he saw it out of the corner of his eye, reaching for him with a crazed look on its face, but relaxed when he realized it wasn’t alive.

It was an odd sight, to be sure. Alcor followed its gaze to a glass shelf behind him, on which sat a chalice of some sort. He reached up to grab it -- almost knocking the shelf over as he did -- and cautiously stuck his tongue in.

Whatever was in the cup, he thought as he walked away from the building, it was delicious.

“And all through this I’ve used the word ‘you’ because it’s not me, it’s you. It’s us. It’s we. It’s life. And it’s not just my problem to integrate, it’s not my challenge to integrate, my joy to integrate -- it’s yours, it’s everybody’s.”

There was a long pause, and Alcor thought the recording might finally be over. He took a sip of his drink and smiled. Back to thinking about the current puzzle. It was a tough one -- three different colors of symbols on it -- and he was glad that the voice wasn’t distracting him from it anymore.

And then:

”Please come back, Dipper.”

Alcor did a spit take at the sound of his true name. The panel he was working on made a sizzling noise and deactivated.

“Did that work? Can you hear me?”

He shot to his feet and looked around in all directions. No one. He was still as alone as ever.

“You’re not responding so I don’t know if what you’re doing is just a coincidence.”

“What? Hello?” he yelled.

“Oh, thank the stars, it worked! Dipper you have to get out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” he sputtered. “Who are you?”

There was the sound of a deep breath, inexplicably broadcast from the sky. “I’m your sister, S- I mean, uh. Mizar. I’m Mizar.”

Alcor’s eyes widened. “Mizar?”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to contact you for so long. I can’t believe it finally worked.”

“I don’t understand. What finally worked?”

“You need to listen to me. This isn’t the real world. You’re in a virtual reality game.”

“I’m what?” Alcor said. He backed up, accidentally leading himself to the edge of the platform he was standing on, but instead of falling off, his back hit a wall. He spun around to see what had happened, but there was nothing there. “Mizar? I’m- I’m so confused.”

Mizar sighed. “I told you. None of this is real. It’s a computer program. Haven’t you noticed that things aren’t quite right?”

“Well, yeah,” Alcor replied. He flapped his wings, but stayed firmly glued to the ground. “My demon powers don’t work. Honestly though that’s fine with me. I’m just having fun drawing the good lines.”

“The what?” Mizar demanded, incredulous.

“The good lines!” Alcor squeaked, and waved at the puzzles behind him. “I don’t know what they’re for or what they do, but I’ve been so busy solving all these puzzles that I’ve barely thought about… why… things are… off…”

He trailed off, and Mizar sniffed.

“That’s the point. They’re there to keep you occupied.”

Alcor frowned. “Why though? Who’d go to so much effort to make all of this for me?”

There was no response.

---

Alcor continued to solve puzzles. He didn’t know why Mizar’s voice had stopped, but he was glad it had -- she was the true distraction, not the puzzles. And yet every once in a while, he’d be staring at a particularly difficult panel with one of those Y-shaped symbols on it that made no sense to him, and his mind would begin to wander.

And when it did, he’d notice another one of those tape recorders nearby. There were a lot of them on the island, and they all had boring quotes from philosophers or whatever on them. But then Mizar’s voice would cut in, with a note of glee like she’d thought he’d never speak to her again. Every time she sounded more and more desperate for him to leave. And every time it made him feel more and more frustrated.

“Okay, so,” Alcor said as Mizar's voice faded in for the 20th or so time, “you said last time you might’ve figured out who made this island.” He didn't look up or take his finger off the panel in front of him.

There was a rustling noise, and then a loud pop. “Sorry, had to plug in my headphones. That’s right, though. I’ve done some more research since then and I’m sure of it now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“It was an advanced artificial intelligence,” Mizar replied. “I think you might be familiar with it. It’s called ‘the Alcor Virus’.”

“Oh.” Alcor paused for a moment. “Yeah, I wrote him to mess with fanfic writers. Why do you think he made the island?”

“I don’t think,” Mizar said. “It definitely did. There’s traces of it all over the computer network in this building.”

“There’s traces of him all over every device with a processor in the whole world,” Alcor countered. “He’s a really good virus. I’m very proud of him.”

Mizar groaned. “I also found its executable embedded in the binary for this game. Also a few summoning circles, and a big ASCII art picture of it giving me the middle finger.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he conceded. “Why, though?”

“How should I know?” Mizar said, with more than a note of irritation in her voice. “I’m not a psychologist and I’m definitely not a computer scientist. Also why does it matter ‘why’ it’s doing this? Isn’t it time to get out of there already? I’ve already asked you like a million times!”

“No!” Alcor exclaimed, throwing his hands up. He walked out of the structure he’d been standing in and headed toward an area with some shady trees in which he’d noticed puzzles he hadn’t solved yet. “I like it here. It’s fun for me. And I deserve a vacation from all the people who bother me all the time. Why would I leave?”

“Because you can’t just run away from your problems!” Mizar shot back. “You think this is healthy? Literally living in a virtual reality world so you don’t have to talk to anyone anymore? How do you think I feel?”

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Horrible! I thought you cared about me, Dipper, but all you care about are those stupid puzzles! Stars, sometimes you act like such a demon!”

Alcor frowned. “You know that I -”

“Yes, I get it, you ARE a demon and you can’t help it that you’re a selfish piece of shit. I GET it. Is this how it’s really going to end? You’re just going to turn me down after I’ve spent all this time trying to get you out?”

Alcor’s ears turned red as he felt Mizar’s furious, extraplanar glare land on him. “It really means that much to you that I leave?”

He heard Mizar smack herself in the face. “Yes, yes, a hundred times yes! It kills me that you’re not in my life anymore! You probably thought I could get along just fine without you and no one would be affected by you staying forever on your fantasy puzzle island vacation, huh? Why do you think I keep asking you? I’m starting to get sick of it!”

Alcor felt every muscle in his body tense up at that. He squeezed his eyes shut as Mizar continued to shout, tried to fend off the words violently striking at his ego, and only opened them again when she cut off mid-word. The light on the tape recorder had turned off.

He tried to let himself relax again but he couldn’t. It felt like his chest had become a black hole and it was taking all he had not to shrink up into a tiny little dot and vanish. He hated being yelled at. Hated it.

Maybe Mizar was right, though. Maybe he was just being a selfish jerk. He'd done it before. Countless times, to countless Mizars, his self-serving actions had caused harm to mortals and it was always his fault because he couldn't put himself in their shoes. Maybe he was a monster after all. It was just like a monster to have wants and needs that inevitably end up hurting people.

Alcor exhaled, long and heavy, and pressed the button on the tape again. When the pre-recorded message ended and Mizar’s shouts returned, he interrupted her.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

#gravity falls #transcendence au #the witness #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #mizar #reincarnation #fic #my stuff #long post #the good lines

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baodurs · 3 years

Note

hi! u can choose the pairing and 21 :3c

thank you!!! i decided to write for alvis and selene from heroes of myth! for the 3 of you who know what that is, this is set at the post-prophecy ceremony, three years before the game starts.

21. things you said when we were on top of the world (x)

Selene is still not used to the weight of fine fabric on her shoulders, and certainly not to this dress of deep blue, trimmed ostentatiously with silver thread and glittering white stones. Alvis had laughed when she’d complained of them, and she was startled to remember that he was the son of a duke. One who had fled the duchy at the earliest opportunity, of course—but he seems as comfortable in the sprawling courtyard of Archa’s palace as he ever was all those nights on the road, camping in the dirt, and he had regarded her ceremonial dress with an ironic familiarity.

He suits his own finery just as well, and Alvis in his prophet’s robe has become a fixture at her side. His luminous white garb is striking in the crowd of people wrapped in customary mage’s blue. Selene, matching their uniform but for her dress’s extra embellishments, still does not blend in half as well. She smiles blandly at the kinship in their eyes, and when one eager mage compliments the technical precision of her fireball-lobbing and inquires about some obscure magical theory, Alvis is there.

A wry grin, a quip about some relevant text, a knowing glance at Selene that would suggest this scholar, whose name she hasn’t heard before today, is a source of endless argument between the two of them. “Best not to get us started,” Alvis chuckles, and returns to his own conversation so smoothly that the interruption hardly registers.

It’s hard not to laugh at the thought that this is the steadiest thing to her in Archa, this stranger and his lies. Selene could count what she knows of Alvis on one hand: first, he is nobility (a fact she had to infer from his last name); second, he knows more of magic than any real mage in this room; and third, crucially, he is a fraud.

Perhaps that last point is privileged enough information to constitute knowing him well.

“I need some air,” Selene tells the mage before her, which is true. She relishes the bluntness of it, and while it’s enlightening to watch how Alvis charms and dances his way through conversation, she has found nothing as enjoyable or effective for her own purposes as forestalling it altogether.

Alvis’s eyes weigh on her back as she goes.

She walks a careful line between the edge of the crowds and the halos of torchlight on the wall, keeping to hazy shadows. She will not look back at him, but for a moment she concentrates and lets the light flicker unnaturally against the jewels on her sleeve, and trusts that he knows her tricks well enough by now to notice.

What will he read into it? She imagines his glare, at the threat one might glean from such a casual illusion—I could ruin it all now, if I wanted. Or perhaps he’s more charitable than that, and even now he’s stifling a laugh at their grand secret, passing off the smile meant for her as a gracious acceptance of another mage’s compliment. More likely, it’s neither, and he’s already looked away.

Selene walks until she has turned behind enough intricately carved hedges that no casual onlooker could reconstruct her trail. With the distant hum of conversation behind her, she settles onto a bench and reflects with sudden clarity that this is as good as her life will ever be again.

Tonight, the looming threat of failure is behind her, and the long monotony of success stretches ahead. Tomorrow she will reach it, but now she could do anything to thwart it. She could decide she has it in her to beguile a chancellor, after all, and follow the mages to their tower in the morning. She could bow before the regent and request her leave to stay at court, with Letha. And who could deny her?

Simpler than that, she could go back to the courtyard and take Alvis’s arm. There are strangers on all sides, and she counts him half among them, but the night is dwindling slowly, and while the moon still moves across the sky, she could tell him anything.

A throat clears behind her. She knows before turning her head that it will be Alvis—anyone else, and she’d have heard them coming.

He stands some distance away, smiling at her, hands clasped behind his back. She regards him curiously as the silence lingers. His gaze wanders the gardens, and he looks like he’s consciously stopping his feet from shifting.

“I’ve been making your excuses to the chancellors,” he says finally, smile fixed as he approaches the bench. He doesn’t sit down, but places a hand on its back and leans against it. “And I suppose that’s good practice.”

After pausing to survey the hedges once more in a way that looks utterly rehearsed, he clarifies, “They’ll be asking after you for years, you know.”

Selene shrugs and gestures towards the empty air. “This is my excuse. If I’m so reclusive and unsociable, no one will expect me to make the trip to the Academy.”

“If you are?” Alvis prods.

His grin is genuine now, and Selene realizes that he’s more comfortable with words between them. The silence is uncertain. Will that be the last thing you ever say to one another?, it seems to ask. Selene thinks it doesn’t matter, that any words could be their last exchanged and tomorrow would be the same as it ever would have been. Alvis must know this, too, but he seems anxious. He expects her to expect something more, and they are not so well-acquainted that he would realize she never does.

“Thank you,” is what he settles on, and Selene is almost disappointed. It doesn’t suit him, not the sentiment or the awkwardness in his tone.

Selene does not thank him back. She is not grateful, but she is fond of him. She hopes he gets what he wants at the Academy.

“You’ll do well there,” she says instead, and knows he will.

Alvis nods, and with a final smile returns to the main courtyard. Selene takes another few minutes to herself before following him.

They see each other again, of course. The ceremony could hardly end without reuniting its guests of honor, and they even see Letha before the night is over. They exchange more words, but Selene does not remember them, and they don’t cross paths before he leaves the city the next morning.

Every day for nearly a month, she is stopped in the street and asked about him. The questions dwindle, over time, but never stop.

“I haven’t seen him,” she tells them, which is true. “But I hear he’s doing well.” Another truth. I hope he’s happy, she thinks, and wonders.

#pendraegon #ellian!!! thank you 💖#looking at my ocs like 'are any of you relevant to ellian? no? ok i choose the one who is irrelevant to everyone else too'#my writing #oc: selene #selene x alvis #anyone who needs context for this: selene and alvis 'stopped the apocalypse' but it was a fake apocalypse that they made up for fun and-#-profit. and they are Not real mages at all! n here they are going their separate ways after successfully lying to the entire world for-#their own personal gain <3 play heroes of myth it rules.#(i know selene uses magic in the fic but that's like. i can't get into it okay she has magic technically but she's still not a Mage mage)#heroes of myth

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phynali · 3 years

Text

Season 6 supernatural re-write

keeping the seasonal plot points the same but tweaking the specifics so it flows more cohesively and sets up the next few seasons better.

we start with bobby phoning dean. it’s been 7 months since sam fell into the cage, dean’s looked for/at every possible way to get him out. he’s mourning still, but the days are getting easier.

then the call. a demon, or a shifter, or something. dean meets up with him. bobby has a photo - it’s definitely, unmistakably sam.

(because wtf there’s no universe bobby wouldn’t tell dean that sam was back from the dead if he knew, so - )

they track sam down. silver, holy water, everything. sam just laughs and goes for a hug, effectuating his best I Have a Soul impression for dean’s sudden appearance. he’s been out of the cage for months, running with this other crew now.

(not sam campbell because him coming back from the dead was dumb. another hunter group, maybe one that sprung up around or as a result of the apocalypse. remind us of the previous season’s plot and the fact that sam was hunted by other hunters. remind us how dissonant and disjointed it is that he’s working with them now).

no, he doesn’t think it’s odd that he didn’t go and get dean. dean was happy, sam was happy to leave him to it.

dean and bobby are O.O

it is Immediately obvious that Something is Wrong. any pretense otherwise is dispelled very quickly and sam gives up the game, shrugs. tells it like it is. he didn’t go get dean back because dean might hold him back, because dean cares so much about coddling him and sam’s fine, he’s great, awesome, actually. he’s strong and solid and doesn’t feel burdened. he’s light. he doesn’t sleep.

he doesn’t sleep?

okay, so something might be off, but he’s not looking a gift horse in the mouth. dean can be his partner again though, sam likes having him around. it’s nice, they work well together. it’s good.

(is it the blood, sam? what? no, no, haha, i tried that. didn’t even take. it doesn’t work for me anymore. how weird is that? you did what? yeah, i wasn’t craving it, but i thought it might help me get stronger. it didn’t do anything. weird, right?)

(sam doesn’t need sleep but dean hardly can sleep after hearing that)

bobby is researching like mad to figure out what’s wrong with sam and sam is like...yeah fine whatever i think i’m supposed to care about you so i guess this is fine.

sam and lisa do Not get along. sam’s smile is razor sharp and she feels uncomfortable to have him in her house. we get the distinct impression sam let dean get vamped to spite her, and possibly egged dean on to her house. it doesn’t take a truth spell for dean to call in the big guns after that.

cass finally answers the phone prayer. he hadn’t considered the amount of danger dean might be in around Soulless till now. cass soul-fists sam and tells hm he has no soul. oops.

and he doesn’t remember anything about hell? about how he got out of the cage? nothing at all?

sam smiles placidly. nothing, cass. i have no clue how i got out.

(he knows. cass knows he knows).

sam agrees to get his soul back because why not. then he finds out how unpleasant that will be. he blackmails cass into helping him stop it from happening. (angels can’t get that far into hell without an army or an ally, cass. what did it cost for crowley to let you into hell? you his bitch now, cass? is that it?).

cass and Souless as feral energy and restrained violence with each other. (”i dragged you out of that cage and i will throw you back in.” and “you dragged me out wrong and if you didn’t fuck this up the first time this wouldn’t be an issue now would it?”)

dean figuring out death can get sam’s soul. sam like ‘oh shit’ and trying to stop that, not by attempting to kill bobby (because this is my re-write and i hated that). except cass double-crosses sam and gags Soulless so he can’t spill the beans on him before the soul gets shoved in his body and the wall goes up.

in this version, cass puts up the wall (not Death). it’s not even clear if it’s necessary because the audience Does Not Trust cass at this point in the season after all the lies and talks with Soulless. Death gives us important exposition about the scarring on Sam’s soul and how deep it goes, how his soul is in literal tatters. it can repair itself, but it’s going to take a long damn time. this is gonna be relevant for the next three seasons.

note: his soul being in tatters is unrelated to the psychological trauma that the wall is keeping at bay inside his mind.

sam gets his soul. the wall goes up. sam remembers nothing.

cass like :))) this is fine :)))

cass’s lies are spiralling. season plot happens, meg, demons, etc. mr. not-sam-campbell betrays them, crowley is an asshole, raphael, etc.

(can you imagine if Mr. not-sam-campbell was actually bela talbot? she was one of crowley’s contracts and maybe he resurrected her because he knows she’s the best and so she can keep an eye on cage-freed sam because crowley might’ve given cass permission to go down the cage but he’s not stupid enough not to keep his eye on this situation. gaaaah i miss bela so much, and the parallel of sam/bela and dean/lisa and dean’s memories of ruby but bela is Not a demon and she is terrified of Soulless because he’s a sociopath through and through, anyway don’t mind me).

when it all comes apart, when sam’s memories are slipping through and he starts to remember conversations with cass from when he was soulless, puts pieces together -

cass breaks his wall. floods him with it. the “i dragged you out of the cage and i can put you back in” we had set up with him and sam earlier in the season is now actually coming full-circle in a metanarrative sense, and paying off cass first saying that to dean in s4 because sam’s pain is dean’s hell. chef’s kiss.

end of the season plays out the same. like i said, so few plot changes, just more cohesion and in-character.

next we’ll do seasons 7, 8, then 9 and how they will flow from this build-up better.

#i'm smart and i'm right #supernatural #spn #supernatural season 6 #phyn rambles #let me edit season 6-15 i'll fix them #s7 and s8 will be the biggest overhauls i think #this is what i was thinking about on my morning walk today

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- DRACO'S DETOUR

Lily nibbled on her lip for a moment before she could get started. She couldn't help it, everything Snape and Narcissa had talked about still weighed on her mind, but so far Harry's life was going quite well for once. She forced herself to remain focused on that as she began, the smile lingering causing the same in the rest of them.

Harry remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden over the next few weeks. He spent most of his days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys' orchard (he and Hermione against Ron and Ginny; Hermione was dreadful and Ginny good, so they were reasonably well matched)

"That doesn't sound well matched at all," James ruffled his hair in confusion. "From what I heard, three are great, and Hermione has no clue what she's doing on a broom. What's reasonably matched about that?"

"Remember how Ron tends to get nervous," Harry tried hard to repress a chuckle, and was failing at it. "Well he fumbled a lot of Hermione's throws. He claimed he was going easy on her, but ah," he trailed off with a fond shake of his head, he knew Ron's faces well, and the look he sometimes got when she was the one throwing the play made him, well, throw the play.

and his evenings eating triple helpings of everything Mrs. Weasley put in front of him.

"I can't believe you've never gotten sick, going from so little food to so much," Remus muttered, not at all finding it a bad thing.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stones of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet.

Lily sighed that her boy was having to experience the same kind of news they were now, it really had been a blessing they'd barely been able to enjoy it took this long.

Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley brought home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, Harry's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin,

She would have normally stopped anyways to smile over at Remus reappearing on Harry's birthday, but for this particular instance she frowned instead and reread that bit. Not only was this the first birthday Remus was in attendance for, Merlin Sirius had never even managed that, there was no mention of him going out of his way to talk to Harry. In fact, the opposite, bringing such news along? She suddenly couldn't help but wonder if he really would abandon himself from Harry's life again. He certainly hadn't gone out of his way to show otherwise yet.

who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

The boys, who had gone bright eyed at once for the news, looked as grim as if Sirius had been brought up again. The last thing they wanted to hear was their last remaining friend suffering even more hardships in life, yet clearly that's all he was getting.

His first announcement over birthday cake was more dementor attacks.

"Aren't you just full of fun information!" Sirius huffed.

"I'd take the cake back," James agreed.

Remus didn't even have it in him to make a face at them, they were entirely right. He wished he could put this away, tell it later when it mattered, prioritize on just having fun, but it wasn't at all hard to imagine the thought wouldn't even cross his mind at this point in the future.

Harry at least tried to offer, "maybe you were telling me then, because you knew Mrs. Weasley or anyone in the Order wouldn't let you later."

Lily still couldn't help but tisk, she didn't find it that relevant, but Remus at least looked cheered at the thought this could be put in any good light.

And they'd found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north,

"I, honestly forgot about him," James blinked in surprise. Considering everything else that had gone on in Harry's fourth year, this guy seemed laughable at best looking back on him.

"How recent is this news? I'm stunned this hadn't happened already," Sirius rolled his eyes.

the Dark Mark set above his house. Lupin was honestly surprised it hadn't happened sooner than a year, Regulus Black had only lived a few days.

"Oh lookie there, were five for five! Anyone want to play some odds this'll come up every single chapter, now by Moony himself!" James mock cheered to hide his growing hysteria of that constantly being brought up.

"Technically he just mentioned Sirius' brother, not-" Harry broke himself off, he couldn't find anything good to say about that.

Sirius couldn't bring himself to say anything on the matter, that would never be something he'd have wanted to learn! He still didn't even know details of why his little brother had done it.

Mrs. Weasley tried to forcefully change the subject, but Bill only kept it rolling by informing Florean Fortescue's' shop was empty, dragged off by the look of the place.

"Bloody tragic future this is, attacking the ice cream," James tried for a smile that didn't at all work.

Ron asked why while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.

"I find this far more relevant than Karkaroff," Sirius sighed, though he honestly couldn't blame Molly, they heard enough about this without bringing it up themselves.

No one was sure, but he must've upset someone. Mr. Weasley added in Ollivander had vanished as well.

Harry rubbed at his temple hard, the harsh thump he felt for that couldn't be anything good, but he must be ridiculous. Why would he know anything more about this than what happened to Florean Fortescue?

Ginny was stunned, where would people go for wands now?

Lupin pointed out someone else,

"I didn't even know there were other makers in the country," Lily sighed.

"There aren't, that I know of anyways," James agreed. "People will have to travel really far for them, and that's a danger in itself in these times."

but Ollivander was the best, so it was a shame if the other side did have him.

"There's Moony, always keeping us on the important information," Sirius grumbled.

The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry's included a surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.

Lily had been reading so distracted because of all this, she almost glossed right past this detail.

James would never allow such a thing, the second that news registered he let out a great whoop of joy and jumped clean out of his seat, nearly taking Harry's head with him he'd wrapped him in such a tight hug moments before.

"Yes! This is the best news ever! I haven't been this excited since you were put on the team! I can't believe it! Yes I can, McGonagall knew there wasn't a better choice! I'm amazed you haven't had this spot since your fourth year! Oh I can't wait to hear about-"

Lily and Remus were both massaging their ears in protest as he somehow managed to shout even louder every passing moment, but he looked so jubilant it would feel cruel to tell him to stop.

Sirius wasn't acting any better, laughing so hard he seemed likely to run out of air soon and Harry looked so pleased with himself at their reactions it was like hearing about his first game all over again.

Lily waited patiently for them to run out, scratching Hickory on the chin in the meantime and trying to remember a certain Herbology plant that specialized in ear regrowth, they'd need one before all this was up for more reasons than her husbands happy shouts.

"Oh, I wish you were wearing it now, I know McGonagall had to pry mine away from me-"

"Prongs, if you don't settle down, then we'll never get to actually hear him doing anything with his captaincy. I know I'll never be able to hear properly again anyways, but still," Remus tried to patiently cut in.

"Leave him be Moony, this is the first thing he's had to celebrate in, maybe even since his first year. Since then, everything has been just as depressing as it was an accomplishment for the pup."

"Thanks Sirius," Harry told him with a torn expression of whether he was supposed to be laughing at that one.

Lily still took their momentary distraction as an opportunity to keep going, though James was still so jazzed he honestly looked like he regretted taking his seat for now.

Hermione congratulated he could now use the Prefects bathroom.

"Because that's the important takeaway from this!" Remus rolled his eyes.

Ron eyed it with worry, recalling Charlie wearing one of those. He supposed it would be cool having him as Captain, assuming of course he'd be back on the team, as he ended with a nervous laugh.

James made a sad little face this position suddenly put his son in, but even that couldn't put a damper on his delighted news and he encouraged Harry not to worry about that until he had to.

Mrs. Weasley hardly paid any attention to their chatter, sighing they couldn't put off a trip to Diagon Alley anymore, but they'd have to wait until their father was off on a Saturday to come, she wasn't going without him.

Ron laughed if his mother really thought You-Know-Who was hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?

"Well after hiding out in a girls bathroom, I really wouldn't put much past him," Sirius smirked.

Mrs. Weasley, fired up at once, rounding on him and reminding Fortescue and Ollivander had gone on holiday then?

"Probably best not to be testing his mother anyways," Lily sighed with sympathy for Molly.

If he thought security was a laughing matter he could stay home!

Ron hastily reminded he wanted to see the twins shop!

"Priorities," James agreed enthusiastically, as if this could get any better!

She pointedly said he'd better watch his tone then, or she'd think he was too immature to even return to school.

Remus let out a soft whistle, unable to grasp how worried a parent must be to have that kind of threat in there.

Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room, muttering about how she couldn't even take a joke anymore.

"She's never struck me as the fun type to begin with, that's somehow gotten worse over the years," Sirius sighed.

"Be fair, we saw her laugh...err...back when Fred and George made a joke about the train crashing," Harry finally offered.

Lily smiled sadly for the poor stressed mother, and even more for her sons defense of the woman no matter how much it stung just a bit to hear. She was being ridiculous of course, Harry had every reason to do this as he always would.

But Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Mrs. Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur (much to Hermione and Ginny's pleasure),

"Was I detecting a hint of sarcasm in that?" James asked innocently.

"From me? No, never dear," Lily giggled.

passed a full money bag across the table to Harry.

"Really warms my heart an employee of Gringotts got into Harry's vault so easily," Lily muttered.

"I passed him along my key, didn't think to ask why he wanted it though," Harry shrugged without concern.

Ron at once demanded where his was.

"Did he really think his older brother was just passing out bags of gold?" James looked baffled at the reaction.

"I'm sure it was an impulse kind of response, like yelling at the top of your lungs about your kid getting a badge," Remus said pointedly.

Bill told his brother he was being an idiot, that was already Harry's. Gringotts was in security overhaul as of now, they'd been sticking probes up- well, this way was easier for Harry and his parents.

"No, no, you finish those kinds of sentences!" Sirius protested. "Was it his ear? His bum? Underneath his fingernails? Oh, maybe they jammed it into his-"

"Sirius," Lily protested, squirming uncomfortably at wherever his mind had next leapt to and going on extra loud, suddenly grateful their bank had never gone to such extreme measures so far.

Fleur crooned he was always so thoughtful, while Harry watched Ginny mime vomiting into her cereal for this.

"What a perfectly good waste of cereal," James sighed. "You reserve those actions for bowls of cabbage obviously."

Harry choked over his cornflakes, and Ron thumped him on the back.

Then James snorted in surprise as he eyed his son, telling him, "was it really that funny?"

"Unexpected from the likes of Ginny," he pointed out sheepishly.

It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.

Ron appreciated his dad had gotten cars from work again as the three of them and Ginny stretched out in the backseat, while the rest piled upfront except Bill and Fleur who were staying behind.

"Practice having the house to themselves before the honeymoon," Remus muttered under his breath, casing Sirius to both snicker and scowl at his mate at the same time, him constantly interrupting his own jokes when he made cracks like that just didn't seem fair.

Mr. Weasley warned over his shoulder not to get used to it, it was only because of Harry.

"Well that was just rude," Lily huffed. "I'm sure Arthur could get them for his own family if he requested it."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," James sighed.

He'd been given top level security, and they would be meeting with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry groaned and heavily rolled his eyes, but when he saw the others actually looked a touch relieved at the news he restrained the rest of his mutters about paranoia. Honestly, where was Ron when he needed him.

Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors.

"I quite like the idea," Sirius smirked. "Get them to do the shopping for you, I bet you could even get some to carry you."

"And drop you on your fat head while they're at it," Lily rolled her eyes.

James couldn't help laughing just a bit at the mental image anyways, picturing his sons thin arm reaching for a book while the massive bodies kept him blocked from sight.

He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his cloak.

"Certainly not yours specifically," James agreed.

When they arrived the driver told he was going to wait for them, and asked about how long they'd be.

Mr. Weasley warned a few hours.

"Least he's honest," Remus chuckled.

Harry peered through the window and his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid,

"Hagrid's back!" Sirius whooped, and Harry felt like joining in this time.

"He never went anywhere you daft idiot," Remus scowled at this again being shouted right in his ear.

"He wasn't on my mind for a moment, it was horrible!" Sirius insisted, while Remus shoved his face away and pleaded Lily to go on.

the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry's face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

The moment he stepped out of the car Harry was swept into a bone-crushing hug. Hagrid babbling in his ear about Buckbeak- Witherwings of course- was so happy to be back in some open air!

Lily started giggling this was of course the first thing Hagrid would talk about. It really was nice to hear about him again.

Harry was just as glad he was pleased while rubbing his ribs, then told Hagrid he was pleased he was the extra security.

Hagrid agreed just like old times, Dumbledore had said he was up for the job and the Ministry agreed.

"Nothing new there," James beamed in agreement, he wouldn't let his cheerful mood be soured by once again remembering everything Hagrid was there for. It was of some consolation Harry hadn't run up and shared his news of Quidditch Captain with him.

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry's memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly they were just passing through.

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses;

Lily couldn't help her lip puckering a bit with sympathy, knowing his wasn't the only business suffering during this time.

Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street.

Harry shifted a bit anxiously at this, not at all liking how the place seemed almost shrouded from its once glory. It was all the more depressing to look around and see no one really surprised, he was sure this was much more the Diagon Alley they were used to than the bright one from his memories.

The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

AMULETS

Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi!

Sirius grumbled uneasily about what he'd like to do to that man, while Remus couldn't help a bitter scoff people would even delude themselves into thinking those would work.

A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passersby. Trying to haggle to Molly as she passed to get one for Ginny's pretty neck.

Harry scowled, hand twitching for his wand, though soothed just a bit by the fierce expression he remembered on Ginny's face, making it clear she didn't need an amulet to protect her from anything.

Mr. Weasley was glaring angrily at the amulet seller for this, muttering if only he were on duty.

"Don't see why that would stop you from toppling the lot over," James snapped.

Mrs. Weasley reminded he wasn't, and they didn't need to be arresting anyone right now. She decided they should all go to Madam Malkin's first, they all needed their robes fixed, and then they could head to Flourish and Blotts-

Arthur corrected they didn't have to stay together, it would be faster if Hagrid went with the trio and Ginny came along with them.

Mrs. Weasley seemed anxious, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack.

Lily already longed for the cheerful passages about the kids wandering off all on their own to get ice cream and catch each other up on their holidays, rather than completely understanding both sides to those fears.

Hagrid agreed at once, though Molly hardly looked convinced,

"Paranoid mother," Sirius shook his head indulgently.

Harry bit his tongue hard to fight back the compulsion to remind Sirius he'd been accused of much the same, but even if he could have spoken the words, it would only be more of a constant reminder who was missing. The glowering posters of the one who'd taken him away standing out in his mind more than ever making it hard to focus at all.

but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin's.

Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore;

James ruffled his hair in unease, not having to think hard for the dead silence of a crowded place, how everything sounded like no more than a hiss of air and yet every noise was deafening for none of it was done on purpose as if that would save their souls.

the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

"Nobody usually does, it's just something you realize once you're looking for it," Remus sighed.

Hagrid offered to wait outside instead of squeezing inside the shop, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes,

"Good familiar, or bad familiar?" Lily asked curiously.

Harry's troubled face wasn't much of an answer, he had a lot of mixed emotions about Malfoy right now both because of what he'd witnessed his mother doing through this book, and this year in general made him feel Malfoy wasn't just going to be some annoyance in his background for once.

going on about not being a child and able to do this alone!

There was a tutting noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said his mother was right to be worried, no one was out alone these days, it had nothing to do with being a child-

The first voice snapped back careful where she stuck those pins!

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack,

"Malfoy?" They all muttered with some general confusion more than anything. They'd thought him a dead kid because of that earlier bit, now to hear of Narcissa and him in fact just going about their business was as odd a concept as Harry choosing to go into Borgin and Burkes.

They couldn't even throw any general insults at him, for once they were actually worried this little Malfoy would just drop dead right in front of Harry more than they were worried about what snide comment he had today.

wearing a set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves.

He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light gray eyes narrowed, and Draco's voice was as malicious as always as he announced the presence of a Mudblood.

Sympathy gone. James hitched a ferocious expression onto his face, willing to curse that brats teeth out one by one for referring to anyone like that! He would still do anything he could to help Narcissa save that life, but it didn't mean he'd have to do it happily!

Madam Malkin scolded there was no need for that language, or wands, she had to hurriedly add as both Ron and Harry took theirs out and pointed them at Malfoy.

"The proper response," Sirius agreed, "if you'd shot a hex already I'd even say you've improved!"

Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered at them not to as well, it wasn't worth it.

Lily brushed at her hair for a moment before nodding a bit, it should be up to Hermione to decide how much he deserved for that. She was the one being insulted.

Malfoy sneered who'd given her that black eye? He wanted to send flowers.

"A joke telescope has done more to their lives than you've ever impacted it," Remus sniffed.

Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack and snapped at them to put those away. If they attacked her son again,

"I like that she says again, as in she's well aware who's been leaving her kid on the train with decorations," James smirked.

she would insure it was the last thing they'd ever do.

Lily scowled heavily, wanting to give anything to step in and defend her child like Narcissa still had the privilege of doing thanks to something Severus was helping with. Where was the justice in that?

Harry merely took another step forward, asking if she was going to get a few Death Eater pals to help with that again?

Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart. Telling him he shouldn't be throwing accusations like that around!

Harry did not lower his wand. Narcissa Malfoy smiled unpleasantly.

She told that being Dumbledore's favorite might have given him a false sense of security, but Dumbledore wouldn't be around forever to protect him.

"Harry hasn't needed Dumbledore to do much of anything, or anyone for that matter," Sirius snarled at the slight, all of them missing Harry's troubled little frown.

Harry looked mockingly all around the shop before pointedly saying there was no Dumbledore here now.

"I really can't decide if he should be scolded, or praised for this," Remus muttered.

"Sassing a Death Eater is never a good idea, unless you have backup, and since he does, I'm all for it," Sirius huffed.

Have a go then! Maybe she'd get a double cell with her husband!

Malfoy made an angry movement toward Harry, but stumbled over his overlong robe. Ron laughed loudly.

Narcissa grasped his shoulder before he could do anything else, almost purring to her child that she'd be reunited with Lucius properly by the time Potter again saw her dear cousin Sirius Black.

James lurched hard in his seat, like he was fighting back the urge to curse something into dust that wasn't in the room. What he would give to make it so no one could ever say that about his family again!

Harry raised his wand higher.

Hermione grabbed his arm, pleading with him it wasn't worth it, he'd be in such trouble!

"Sometimes it's worth it," James said through gritted teeth. Lily bit hard at her tongue to stop herself agreeing with him, she honestly couldn't say she'd be acting any better, having already wished to hex the both of them long before they'd crossed that line.

Madam Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to decide to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn't.

"That is a terrible method!" Lily snapped. "It's what caused most of this problem with Fudge around!"

She bent toward Malfoy, who was still glaring at Harry and tried to hem his sleeve up a bit more, but he again snapped at her to watch it with the pins! Then he pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet.

All five of them scoffed in disgust for this little brat, it was already a miracle they'd felt anything for him other than wanting to drown the whelp.

Narcissa decided it was time they take their business elsewhere.

"Good riddance," Lily sniffed.

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malfoy taking care to bang as hard as he could into Ron on the way out.

Madam Malkin was left to snatch up the fallen robes and move the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed all the dust.

She was distracted all through the fitting of Ron's and Harry's new robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard dress robes instead of witch's,

"I don't see the problem with that, could have made a statement she could," Sirius chuckled.

and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of them.

Hagrid pleasantly greeted them back outside, and Harry asked if he'd seen the Malfoy pass by.

Hagrid agreed he had, but they wouldn't be making trouble in Diagon Alley, no need to worry about them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, but before they could disabuse Hagrid of this comfortable notion,

"Honestly, what's there more to say?" James sighed, desperately reaching for that good mood once more. "Let's get back to some shopping, we still haven't got to hear about the twins shop that's been teased for ages!"

Harry gave a light laugh of agreement.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books and continuing the rest of the list together.

Neither Harry nor Ron bought any ingredients at the Apothecary, seeing that they were no longer studying Potions, but both bought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then, with Mrs. Weasley checking her watch every minute or so, they headed farther along the street in search of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

Mrs. Weasley was still anxiously checking her watch and store numbers, muttering about how they hadn't much time but to look around at the twins things and then get going-

Then Ron stopped in his tracks and uttered 'woah.'

"A wonderful first impression then!" Sirius all but squealed, unable to believe Lily had gotten this one!

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George's windows hit the eye like a firework display.

"What I'll remember them most vividly for," Remus whispered in anticipation.

Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed.

James knew he would have been the same way, it was almost cruel just having to imagine such a sight in such a dismal place!

The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry's eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT

U-NO-POO-

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Lily couldn't help it, she laughed out of pure shock, the boys already dissolving into tears of mirth. It was by far the most hysterical thing anyone had ever called Voldemort, including using just the name Riddle instead!

Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked around to see Mrs. Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name "U-No-Poo."

She at once whispered they'd be murdered in their beds.

"Even Voldemort would stop to laugh at that, no matter how human he isn't!" Sirius insisted.

Ron brushed off it was brilliant, as he and Harry led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and Harry pushed his way toward the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten- year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: reusable hangman 'spell it or he'll swing!

"Well that one got morally disturbing," Lily finished the first round of products with more indulgence than anything.

"I want more details," James all but whined, his hand still twitching to snag the book away from Lily, who smiled at him and merely held it closer before continuing.

Hermione had found Patented Daydream Charms in a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.

She exclaimed it as extraordinary magic for something so lifelike.

"She sounds so surprised," Sirius still managed a pout on the twins behalf.

A voice behind them said she could have one for free for that.

"I personally would have reminded her of the time they turned Neville into a canary instead, but I suppose that's good business," James hadn't stopped grinning for pages now, it was fantastic!

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"I'm sure that's why they wear it," Lily agreed.

He shook hands with Harry at once before asking what had happened to Hermione's eye.

She ruefully reminded him of his telescope.

Fred said in surprise he'd forgotten about that thing before handing her a tube from his pocket.

"Should I be worried he keeps something on him to get rid of that?" Remus asked around twitching lips.

"Nah," his two friends said at once.

She unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.

Fred explained just dab it on and the bruise would be gone within the hour. Decent to have around, since they were still testing most of their products on themselves.

"Still? Would have thought they'd be able to pay someone even better than first years by now," James chuckled.

Hermione looked nervous, asking if it was safe.

Fred said of course it was at once, while leading Harry off to give him a tour.

Harry left Hermione dabbing her black eye with paste and followed Fred toward the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks.

Fred explained that was for nuts like his dad who enjoyed Muggle tricks, they weren't a big seller, but cute novelty items.

Then George appeared. Fred's twin shook Harry's hand energetically.

He offered Harry to see the back where they made their real money. On the way he warned a kid with his hand in a barrel that stealing something would cost him more than Galleons. The kid at once backed away.

"I'm sure they have all kinds of anti-thieving spells around," Lily agreed.

"Wonder what they prefer to do with those getting caught? Cutting off limbs, or simply using them as test dummies for a few products?" Sirius snickered.

George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and Harry saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued.

Fred began they'd just developed this more serious line,

"Aw, I'm honored," Sirius pressed his hand to his heart, then scowled at once at his two friends who didn't even have the energy to smack him for the dower joke.

while George explained it was unbelievable how many Ministry employees couldn't do a simple Shield Charm.

"That is the most depressing news I've heard all day, and that's saying a lot!" Sirius insisted still in his jesting tone. At least James almost cracked a smile for that one.

Course they didn't have Harry for a teacher, Fred amended.

"I really doubt I did that much," Harry said a little dumbfounded, "I mean, they were two years above me! Surely a previous teacher-"

"I wouldn't count on it Harry," Remus corrected. "A different teacher every year, that's going to produce shotty results even if every one of them were steller, and from your track record alone you know that wasn't always the case."

Harry still looked rather blushy and baffled over the whole thing.

So they'd initially created Shield Hats, you know, challenge someone to a duel while wearing the funny looking thing. Then the Ministry bought their whole supplies for a year.

Which lead them into a whole range of Defense Dark Arts products. Of course it only worked against minor hexes and jinxes.

"This, is, brilliant!" James squealed. He couldn't see much of a use for those himself, but he'd certainly fix every one of those and some boots if they had them to his infant for the next year or more, he couldn't be the only parent seeing a practical use for these things! They certainly needed to be invented right along with those canary creams as soon as possible!

There was also their supply of Instant Darkness Powder, imported from Peru, handy for a get away.

Remus let out a surprised whistle, that stuff was expensive, he was more surprised the twins weren't trying to recreate their own instead.

Plus their Decoy Detonators, which were walking off the shelves, literally. Even as Harry watched some were scurrying around. Fred explained you just drop one on the ground and they'd create a racket for a diversion.

"Love it," Lily giggled, any number of helpful times that could be used coming to mind, and she was sure even unhelpful times if those boys smiles meant anything.

Harry took a liking to those, so George tossed him some at once. Then a young witch poked her head in, wearing their uniform and telling both Mr. Weasley's there was a customer looking for a joke cauldron.

"That's got to get confusing. As if they weren't switched around enough, now they go by the same name," Sirius chuckled.

Harry found it very odd to hear Fred and George called 'Mr. Weasley,'

"I'm honestly more surprised they're not already trying to tell McGonagall they didn't do it," Remus snickered.

but they took it in their stride.

George left with Verity to see to the customer, while Fred told Harry there was no charge in this store, as Harry had just reached for his money bag for the Decoy Detonators.

Harry tried to protest he couldn't do that,

"I believe you can," James reminded Harry with a fond grin. "You are the one, and only person, who invested in this, I think that entitles you to a few free things every now and again."

"You basically paid for everything in that shop," Sirius agreed.

"No I didn't, they'd been making things well before I gave them all that gold," Harry protested, "and they were doing fine getting it off the ground before Bagman caused so much trouble."

"The truth still stands I honestly doubt they would have gotten this far this fast without you, have fun with that, and please tell me you brought me a Decoy Detonator!" James finished pleadingly.

Harry still shook his head, but stopped arguing the point. Lily was honestly proud of both sides and just kept going beaming.

Fred was being firm about this though, saying they'd hadn't forgotten their start up loan. Harry didn't pay here.

Harry reluctantly put his money away as they found they found Hermione and Ginny, Fred deciding to lead them over to the WonderWitch products. A range of bottles from love potions to helpful things to do with your appearance.

Ginny asked curiously how well they worked, and George popped back up to give a few details, before Fred scolded they wouldn't be selling them to their sister though.

"Then why did he lead her over there?" Remus snorted.

"Showing off, obviously," James rolled his eyes.

Not that she seemed to need help, from what Ron had said she had five at once nowadays-

Ginny cut in whatever Ron said was a big fat lie, then asked what this small bottle did.

Fred explained it was a ten second pimple vanisher, before also telling her not to change the subject.

"I like that he answers first and then continues interrogating her, that's proper management," Sirius approved.

Was she, or was she not, currently dating Dean Thomas?

"Suddenly immensely glad none of us had sisters," James muttered, this already sounded like a nightmare, he could only imagine if Lily did have a girl anytime soon he'd be just as bad.

Ginny cooley agreed she was, but last she'd checked he was one boy, not five.

"Clearly she's not practiced enough duplication charms on him then," Sirius smirked.

Then she noticed a cage of differently colored balls of fluff all rolling around.

Fred briefly explained them as Pygmy Puffs, but insisted his sister was going through boyfriends a bit fast.

"And we have entered, none of their business territory," Lily huffed, completely on Ginny's side. She'd only had two in the last year, that really wasn't so bad, and honestly still trying to repress laughter all of the boys in the room looked more likely to drink one of those love potions than offer anything for this conversation.

Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn't recoil.

"That is a terrifying thought in itself," Remus agreed.

She firmly pointed out it was none of their business, and she'd thank Ronald not spreading stories about her to these two, as he chose that moment to appear laden with merchandise.

Fred tactifully managed not to answer by telling his kid brother that would be three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut.

"Ah changing the subject, life's great gift!" Sirius cheered at once.

"I do love he knows all that just by glancing at the boxes," James snickered.

"Even with a family discount," Remus agreed.

Ron at once protested he was their brother!

Fred decided he'd knock off the Knut then.

"Never mind then," Remus agreed as his friends roared further with laughter. Lily couldn't help frowning just a bit, hoping Harry kept it to himself the twins had in fact done the opposite to someone not their brother. That wouldn't help Ron any with a problem he'd had feeling so overlooked, now possibly even replaced in his own family.

Ron protested he didn't have that much, and was then kindly told to put the boxes back where he'd found them.

Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at Fred that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that moment to appear.

"Mother's gift," Lily agreed fondly while the boys only subsided into further snickering.

She threatened if she saw him doing that again she'd jinx his fingers together, before Ginny swooped in and asked for a Pygmy Puff.

"Ginny is a great sister! Constantly keeping on the right track this one," James smirked.

Harry agreed at once, a fond smile on his face of how well Ginny knew how to deal with every person in her family.

Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione momentarily had an unimpeded view out of the window. Draco Malfoy was hurrying up the street alone.

"Honestly not surprised he ditched mummy," James snapped at once, not at all forgetting of those Malfoy's comments anytime soon.

"Surprised she let him stop holding her hand, as worried as she was about him," Lily muttered with far less venom. She vividly remembered Narcissa saying Draco had been eager to help Voldemort with something, and this setup was as forbidding as it got.

As he passed Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he glanced over his shoulder. Seconds later, he moved beyond the scope of the window and they lost sight of him.

Harry at once asked where his mummy had got to.

Ron agreed he'd given her the slip.

Hermione asked why he would?

Harry said nothing; he was thinking too hard. Narcissa Malfoy would not have let her precious son out of her sight willingly;

"That's a little presumptuous on your part," Remus frowned at him. "What's there for her to fear really? The Death Eaters are practically the boogeyman of the time right now, no one would dare hurt one of their kids."

Harry tried to explain his reasoning, "I'd never seen him away from his parents before, and Narcissa had certainly made a show of being worried about Malfoy there in the shop, stepping in like she did."

Malfoy must have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches.

Harry, knowing and loathing Malfoy, was sure the reason could not be innocent.

He glanced around. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were bending over the Pygmy Puffs. was delightedly examining a pack of Muggle marked playing cards. Fred and George were both helping customers. On the other side of the glass, Hagrid was standing

with his back to them, looking up and down the street.

"Oh, you're not," Lily sighed in resignation already.

"Oh, he is," James agreed, a torn expression on his face. He almost agreed with Lily, this was his son just looking for trouble, but at the same time, he couldn't claim to be doing any better at that age, or honestly even now.

In a snap decision he pulled his cloak out and hissed at his two friends to hurry up while everyone was distracted. Hermione hesitated for a moment while Ron ducked in at once.

"I could have quoted that with you what their responses would be," Sirius said with a proud little smirk.

She hesitated for a second longer, then ducked under the cloak with them. Nobody noticed them vanish; they were all too interested in Fred and George's products.

"A marketing slogan I'm sure they'd be proud of, further helping you to get around trouble," Remus muttered.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed their way out of the door as quickly as they could, but by the time they gained the street, Malfoy had disappeared just as successfully as they had.

Harry quietly murmured which direction he'd gone, leading them carefully past Hagrid. They spotted him ahead turning left, as Ron whispered what a big surprised it was, right into Knockturn Alley.

"Yeah, no, got to disagree with Ron, I'm not surprised at all," Sirius stated in the such the same sarcastic tone his best friend had once done, Harry found it a bit eerie.

Harry insisted they speed up to him, while Hermione cautioned their feet would be showing. It was an issue hiding the three of them under the cloak nowadays,

"Not to mention you hardly ever practice," James huffed.

but Harry impatiently said it didn't matter, there was no one around.

Knockturn Alley, the side street devoted to the Dark Arts, looked completely deserted. They peered into windows as they passed, but none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all. Harry supposed it was a bit of a giveaway in these dangerous and suspicious times to buy Dark artifacts, or at least, to be seen buying them.

"There it is," Remus agreed, having fixing to correct Harry on that detail.

Hermione gave his arm a hard pinch.

He yelped ouch, but she quickly shushed him.

"Maybe if you want him to be quiet, don't pinch him to get his attention," Lily couldn't help but giggle. "Honestly, all three of you, you seem lacking in the ability to wave a hand around, gets the job done less painfully."

Harry chose not to answer that while still rubbing the spot.

They had drawn level with the only shop in Knockturn Alley that Harry had ever visited, Borgin and Burkes,

"That would have given me heart failure if I hadn't known the circumstances of it," James muttered.

which sold a wide variety of sinister objects. There in the midst of the cases full of skulls and old bottles stood Draco Malfoy with his back to them, just visible beyond the very same large black cabinet in which Harry had once hidden to avoid Malfoy and his father.

Harry couldn't help but shift uncomfortably, a great buzzing flowing across his mind telling him to pay attention now, as if he weren't doing that already.

Judging by the movements of Malfoy's hands, he was talking animatedly. The proprietor of the shop, Mr. Borgin, an oily-haired, stooping man, stood facing Malfoy. He was wearing a curious expression of mingled resentment and fear.

Hermione groaned they couldn't hear what was being said, but Ron then produced from the boxes he was still holding

"Ron certainly has his priorities in order," Sirius couldn't help bursting out laughing he'd kept hold of those all this time.

"I'm hoping whatever prevents one from stealing traced to blood, otherwise the whole store would realize you three are missing," James pointed out.

"We weren't tackled by Hagrid, so I think we're in the clear," Harry brushed off, still trying to lean in eagerly for what Malfoy was up to, an honest first since his second year.

some Extendable Ears.

"And my assertion those are needed for all occasions finally gets its first validation," James nodded along.

Ron quickly fed one into the door and they could at once hear Malfoy's voice asking for something to be fixed.

Harry felt like he'd just slammed his skull as hard into Hogwarts castle as he could already, that simpel word meant something dire! He kept his breath carefully neutral though, sadly still very clearly giving away something as they all glanced anxiously at him, but knew Malfoy was the only one who could give answers right now, as grating as that could get.

Borgin seemed reluctant to help, saying it would be easier if it could be brought in-

Malfoy snapped it couldn't, it had to stay where it was.

Borgin insisted without seeing it-

Malfoy stepped forward, out of their range of sight, and said perhaps this would give him confidence.

They shuffled sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened. Malfoy continued if Borgin told anyone of this conversation he'd get a visit from Fenrir Greyback, an old family friend. He'd be dropping by anyways to make sure this matter was given the full attention.

"Why would he use him as a reference," Remus demanded so horsley, only Sirius had heard.

"It's a big name in the Death Eater community Moony, don't freak yourself out over details," Sirius quietly soothed so as not to distract Lily.

Borgin tried to say there was no need for that, but Malfoy snapped he'd be deciding what was needed. Then he gestured to be sure to keep that one safe, he'd be needing it.

Borgin offered him to take it now, and Malfoy called him an idiot, he couldn't carry that down the street.

"No more like a fool than usual, in fact whatever it is might even deter from that mug!" James tried in vain for a light joke, but even he didn't care about it, far more invested in whatever this was going on. It did not feel like a coincidence at all they'd been told Malfoy was given a task, and the next time they saw him, he was looking for help from Borgin.

Borgin made a bow as deep as the one Harry had once seen him give Lucius as Draco made to leave, again saying not to tell anyone about this, especially his mother.

"Why not? She clearly knows about everything else going on," Harry muttered in surprise, desperate to get any answer right now that didn't make his head feel as if that slamming was being repeated.

"She's clearly not approving of it love, and I'm sure she's made that known to him," Lily calmly explained, fighting back the urge to run her hand through his hair to sooth that agitated face. None of them were surprised this wasn't as informative as they'd have liked.

Borgin agreed at once.

Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malfoy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with himself. He passed so close to Harry, Ron, and Hermione that they felt the cloak flutter around their knees again. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous smile had vanished; he looked worried.

Ron at once wondered what that could have been about, and all Harry could repeat was he wanted something fixed, and something reserved.

"Glad to know we gleaned as much as you, oh almighty Noticer," Sirius sighed.

"As if I need another title," Harry grumbled.

Without waiting for another response, Hermione ducked out from under the cloak. She checked her hair in the reflection in the glass, then marched into the shop, setting the bell tinkling again.

"What is she up to?" Remus demanded, looking worried for her safety at once.

"She clearly thinks she can get more out of this, and I can almost see her point," Lily had a critical eye in place. "Obviously neither of the boys could do it, they're too well noticed on sight, but if she plays this right and says the right thing, she very well could."

"She doesn't have a spotless track record for that," Remus still looked worried, remembering occasions where she'd still frozen on the spot or come up with some very lame excuses.

"On the other hand, she gets better with practice," Sirius tried to offer hopefully, at least what she'd done to Umbridge and Marietta last year proved she had a streak not to be messed with, hopefully that shone through right now.

The boys at once leaned back in to the Extendable Ear to hear Hermione greet him with a horrible morning in a bright voice.

"Well she's off to a terrible start," James moaned, already fighting back the impulse to bury his face in his fingers.

Borgin did not answer, but cast her a suspicious look. She cheerily hummed, passing a few display cases, and pausing at a necklace to ask how much it was.

One and a half thousand Galleons apparently, while Hermione disappointedly said she hadn't quite that much.

Then she asked for the price of a skull, and when he said sixteen Galleons, she asked if anything in here was being kept for anyone.

"Nope, she's already blown it," Sirius sighed in disappointment.

"Apparently she only does well under pressure, I'm sure if someone was threatening to curse her she'd have come up with a much better on the spot lie," James sighed.

Mr. Borgin squinted at her. Harry had the nasty feeling he knew exactly what Hermione was up to. Apparently Hermione felt she had been rumbled too because she suddenly threw caution to the winds. Falsifying the boy who'd just been in here was a friend,

"There's something I never thought I'd hear in any context," Harry crinkled up his nose.

And she was looking for a present for him, but obviously if he'd already reserved something she shouldn't bother to get the same thing.

"Credit for trying," Lily offered a weak little grin. "It took something for her to go in there and come up with anything as fast as she did."

"It would have done them better to actually come up with a plan, even to wait a few moments, rather than coming in right after he'd left," James sighed. Hermione had unintentionally ruined something that could have been quite valuable.

It was a pretty lame story in Harry's opinion, and apparently Borgin thought so too. He at once snapped at her to get out of his shop.

Hermione did not wait to be asked twice, but hurried to the door with Borgin at her heels. As the bell tinkled again, Borgin slammed the door behind her and put up the closed sign.

Ron offered it had been worth a try while throwing the cloak back over her, though noted she'd been pretty obvious.

She at once snapped back he could show her how it was done next time.

"Can't say Ron would have done any better," Sirius shrugged, "honestly of the lot of you, you all can't really lie to save your life."

"Thank you Sirius," Harry said blandly, though his heart wasn't at all in it. Finally he was fully and thoroughly distracted from his godfather, and was not at all pleased what his mind had settled on. Whatever Malfoy was up to, it somehow wasn't going to lead to anything better than dwelling on the death of him.

Ron and Hermione bickered all the way back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where they were forced to stop so that they could dodge undetected around a very anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, who had clearly noticed their absence. Once in the shop, Harry whipped off the Invisibility Cloak, hid it in his bag, and joined in with the other two when they insisted, in answer to Mrs. Weasley's accusations, that they had been in the back room all along, and that she could not have looked properly.

"You only prove my point," Sirius couldn't help but insist, and refused to stop smirking at Harry until he offered an uneasy smile back.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #HBP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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rmichaelwahlquist · 3 years

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Juilliard is the tip of the iceberg. If Juilliard grads are struggling to find work – coming from one of the the most prestigious and well funded programs in the country, with some of the most high profile instructors – imagine the job prospects of all the state school grads. It's hard to imagine any scenarios where potential employers are going to take a ***** State University candidate over someone from Juilliard.

What follows may be my longest tumblr essay ever, buckle up for a ride through the perils of music education and a few ideas and solutions along the way!

And yet music programs around the country continue to expand the number of students in their programs – more students is after all in best interest of the institution (more students=more funding) – somehow without much regard to the hard numbers of how well these graduates will do in their careers.

Now, I work in music education and I readily acknowledge that changing this system is like changing the course of a glacier. For over two hundred years the higher education system in music has focused on a relatively narrow range of topics and techniques to train musicians. Berlioz's irreverent send-up of scholastic fugues during the finale of his 1830 Symphonie Fantastique is just one early example of students rankling at the limits of what was taught in school.

And for the first hundred or so years of the conservatory system (the 1800s), especially when it came to orchestral musicians, the product generally matched the demand - well trained musicians to play the music of the times.

On the other hand, I defend the traditional idea that not everything about a music education in a university has to be about job preparedness. For example, whether or not a musician teaches music history or theory for their career, I believe they should be well rounded and have a knowledge of those things. I tell my students: you want to be the whole package. And no matter what innovations come in music education, it would seem unquestionable that certainly the program should train musicians in excellent technique and performance.

I don't have the answers. I wish I did. I wish every person who wants to make music for a living could go to college and leave prepared to have an enjoyable, reliably profitable career in making the music that makes them happy. But right off the bat if you want to make pop (or any popular genre of) music or video game music or movie music – most university programs can hardly begin to help you with that. While some few specialized programs exist, you've really got to be the cream of the crop in the first place to even get your foot in those doors.

But where are the musicians making the money today? What skills do they have that enable them to make this living? And why does a music education have so little to do with either of those answers?

Many first year music students are surprised and disappointed to find that unless they want to be a band conductor, an orchestra musician, or a private instructor, being a music major may not be for them. And indeed it may not be! Many of the 20th century's and now 21st century's most wealthy and successful musicians became so without a formal music education behind them. Same for many of the ones who, while not wealthy, are working in studios and in live gigs with a steady income. Talent, work and creativity have always mattered a lot more in music than a piece of paper from an institution.

I have been wondering lately whether all of this really boils down to the fallout from the invention of recording technology over a century ago. Prior to the age of recordings, western musical notation had had a thousand years to develop and influence the way music was made, performed, and disseminated. Simply put, if you wanted to write, share, or perform music widely, then written music notation was pretty much the only way to do so. The accumulation of this tradition lead to the heights of late 19th century romanticism and the dawn of musical modernism. It's a staggering artistic achievement for humanity, no doubt about it, and it was all made possible because each generation could build on the written tradition of the previous one.

However, the advent of audio recordings abruptly interrupted (and/or accelerated) this progression/fragmentation. The need for creating and reading sheet music has gone from being universal to being niche - as long as the song can be performed, it can be recorded. The middle-man of notation no longer has a monopoly. This has led to the rise of new genres and commercial aspects of music that have fluctuated with the changing times and technology.

Jazz is an interesting case – an entirely new musical genre whose rise I would credit to recording and broadcast technology. Suddenly you didn't have to have tickets to an exclusive venue, training at a fancy school, or even the sheet music. You copied and learned from what you heard on the radio or recordings. You learned right from the best, right in the comfort of your home. You got playing experience doing live gigs. The genre evolved rapidly from Jelly Roll Morton to Louis Armstrong to Duke Ellington to Charlie Parker to Miles Davis to John Coltrane in just a few decades, becoming a well established and vibrant musical language – so well established that it can now retroactively enter higher music education. Those early jazzers would be quite amused, I think, that you can now (as I once did) get a degree in jazz.

Unfortunately, the same effect may be happening to Jazz education as happened to classical music education – the education becomes more about preserving the past than about keeping the music itself alive. (Have you heard some of the things the best jazz musicians are doing today? It is as far from even the wild jazz of the 60s as the earth is to the moon. Still recognizably jazz but not anything you'll learn in school!) Perhaps by its nature, a music education is only capable of teaching about the past. But I think that's an assumption worth challenging.

We may expect a trained jazz musician to be able to play big band styles and bebop with equal fluency, much the same way a violinist may be expected to play Bach and Brahms and Boulez. But is there a point at which a music education becomes too fixated on the past without adequately preparing for the right now, let alone the future, of life as a musician?

In fact, every non-notated music tradition is at risk of the same effect due to recordings. Say you recorded a native music maker from an endangered tradition in the early or mid 1900s. Now for all time, to make music in that tradition there is this temptation to calcification - hardening the whole style around a few interpretations just because they happen to be the earliest of which we have record. The reality is that no musical style ever stays the same forever. Those recorded in the 1900s were not even doing the music in the exact same as their parents, let alone 50 or a 100 years prior. The times changed, the people changed, the music changed.

It will always be that way. Music education may be a glacier set on its course but the flow of music increasingly is finding its way around and beyond it in terms of the art, the artists, the culture, and the money. Now, the times still change, the people still change, the music still changes, while the cultural and practical relevance of a formal music education wanes and wanes.

Man, I hate being so negative about this, but to fix things you have to first diagnose the problem. So let me propose a few solutions or at least work-arounds, especially for music majors.

- don't go into a music degree expecting it to do everything for you. Understand what it is and what it isn't. It will help you be a good musician. It may not prepare you for many other aspects of the career. You can do everything right in a music degree, pass with 'top marks', and still not be ready to go to work in your field.

- do look for opportunities to perform and make music outside the university. How do you expect to suddenly have music making be a money-making enterprise if you haven't already been practicing that? Why wait until you are a 'pro' to start a youtube channel, self release recordings on bandcamp or soundcloud, to self publish sheet music on sheetmusicplus.com? It takes time to build up a following and a reputation and it doesn't come automatically just when you get a diploma.

- do everything you can to learn about music business, copyright, contracts, recording, sound engineering, advertising, etc. whether or not it is required for a class. Learn what you need to know, not just the minimum for the grade or degree.

- be disciplined with your time. Give due diligence to your classes and practice but don't let those things take over the rest of your time. Balance your life and your art. If you don't learn to do that in school you'll have to learn it while trying to start your career...and why wait until that crucial period?

- you've got to be quite committed to make a music career work. It may involve participation in a combination of money-making streams - academia, private lessons, performances, recording, etc. You may even have to balance music making with other non-music income (I know of a successful composer who loves her second career as a yoga instructor). Carefully consider if all this is for you. You can have a lifelong, satisfying and fulfilling engagement with music making without ever making it the sole focus of your study or employment. There is no shame in seeking stability in a career, which music just can't promise.

- don't dismiss the value of the things in your college education that may not be "directly" relevant to the functioning of your music career. Modern college education has a foundation in the ideal that each person should have a well rounded grasp of some of the basics of the world. There's a reason all college grads are required to take classes like math or sociology or science. Practice finding that reason with each class and you'll have a happier time getting through those hoops. There can be relevance in pretty much any topic but don't expect college to spoon-feed you the application of that knowledge.

- Same goes for music topics that seem irrelevant. Just because the class is talking about music history, theory or repertoire that seems useless to you, it doesn't mean that you don't want to know those things as a musician. As I wrote above, you want to be the whole package: a well rounded musician who understands a thing or two about many aspects of life, the world, and music culture specifically.

- do take advantage of every resource that is available for your success. This may not be only within the university system. Look everywhere for mentors, professional contacts, grants, support, performance opportunities, learning opportunities and creative outlets. If you meet somebody who is making it work, pick their brain, ask for their help! If you aren't a voracious type of learner inside and outside of school, being a music major is going to be a tough road. Why suffer through four plus years just to eke out the degree that may not even lead you to a job?

- make the music of TODAY, of RIGHT NOW. Make music that matters to you and to your peers. Make music that is relevant and current and is more than a living museum. Don't be afraid of new music, be afraid of a world without new music!

- keep up with changes in the industry, especially paying attention to where the money is coming from and going. A music career doesn't have to be all about money but, you know, making a living matters unless you are 'of independent means'. Could be NFTs, could be grants, could be (as in the article above) playing your instrument with unusual ensembles. Be as creative with your income pursuits as you are in your art and I bet you can find a happy balance between making the music you like and making money in the process.

- don't give up hope that all the brokenness I mention above can be fixed. Total cultural change is possible and perhaps inevitable within a generation. Balance learning from the past with a push to make a difference in the directions you want to see.

I'll see you in a more vibrant and sonically rich world!

R. Michael Wahlquist | March 2021 | Rexburg, Idaho

#music major #music education #musicians on tumblr #juilliard #music degrees #music school

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writingithink · 4 years

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All The Skies Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: T Wordcount: 6,740 Summary: After accidentally bonding, the Doctor and Rose start their honeymoon.

Notes: This is for Day 1 of @timepetalsweek !! I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'dancing'. It is a follow up to my fic, In Case You Don't Stay Forever. There's not really a 'plot' for you to feel lost in if you don't feel like reading that as well. Thank you so much @hey-there-juliet for betaing!! (& honestly, convincing me that I could totally make up this planet). I own nothing (aside from mistakes).

READ IT ON AO3!! --> a copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379095

“Here we are! Neghlyvryn!” the Doctor announced, opening the TARDIS doors with a flourish as he stepped outside and into a city square. Banners and streamers were everywhere. Crowds of people (well, aliens) were just starting to form. He couldn’t help a smug smirk - he’d gotten it right. Good.

“Blimey, it’s hot!” Rose exclaimed, having just stepped out behind him.

He turned to watch as she fanned herself, barely taking in the festive atmosphere.

“I told you it would be.”

“Yeah, and I dressed for summer, too, but here we are! How are you wearing your suit right now?!”

“Superior temperature regulation,” he explained as he gave her outfit a once over (and then a twice over). She looked great in anything, that was a given, but the pink tank top and tiny denim shorts she currently had on were particularly flattering (even if the amount of skin they revealed would likely distract him all day).

Rose’s discomfort and irritation were still the most prevalent emotions he could feel across their bond, but a bit of pleasure and happiness shot through. Still, she wasn’t smiling.

“Well lucky you. What’s the temperature right now, anyway?” she asked.

He squinted up at the sky and did a slow spin.

“About 27 degrees.”

“I’ve gotta change. Maybe see if the TARDIS has some sort of fancy clothes to keep me cool,” Rose decided, turning around.

“Roooose,” he whined, “it’s the morning! And it’s only going to get hotter. If we wait too long, it won’t be safe for you to play Jikltaii unless you decide to wear an enviro-suit!”

She glared at him over her shoulder before turning back around and crossing her arms. “And just how much hotter is it gonna get?”

“Errr, somewhere around 34 degrees, give or take. This is the Rhibelini Festival! It’s like their summer solstice, except it only happens once every fifteen years when their three suns align.”

Shoulda mentioned three suns when I was gettin’ ready, Rose grumbled over the bond as she finally walked up to him and took his hand. “Alright then, let’s get goin’. But we better get somethin’ to drink before we play this game of yours.”

The Doctor nodded enthusiastically, almost skipping as he led them away from the TARDIS.

This would be their second full day as a bonded pair, and while he still hadn’t had time to properly research it, he had been able to meditate and construct some barriers that would actually be effective … on his end, at least. Since Rose had been asleep during his meditation, they hadn’t been able to work on hers (however her telepathy even worked to begin with). So while he still got plenty from her end, he was able to keep a majority of his less relevant trains of thought from bothering her (and while he could have tried to keep things more private, it didn’t exactly seem fair). Plus, he loved being bonded to Rose Tyler, accident or not.

“So, tell me about this Jiggle-Tie thing we’re gonna do,” Rose prompted as they entered the queue for a street cart, fanning herself with the bottom of her top.

For a moment his eyes zeroed in on her belly button before he made himself look away, focusing instead on the line of people - which was already long now, so he could hardly imagine what it would look like later in the day.

“Jikltaii,” the Doctor repeated, “with a ‘K’. It’s kind of like paintball, but with sling shots. And it’s kind of like capture the flag, but there’s three teams. You see, the Neghlyvits believe that their planet was created when the three sun goddesses reached a truce after fighting amongst each other for billions of years. Each sun’s name corresponds to a goddess; Rhiza, Beltof, and Iniya. Each goddess has a color. Red, or rhiz, for Rhiza. Then there’s orange, or belti, for Beltof and yellow, or iniv, for Iniya. Three teams, three colors of paint.”

“Sounds fun.”

The line was moving slowly, and Rose finally began to take in the surroundings with a hand over her eyes to keep the suns out. He dug through his pockets until he found a pair of her sunglasses, handing them to her and feeling a wave of gratitude across their connection.

I love you, he couldn’t help thinking.

It was getting a little embarrassing. By his count, he’d now told her this 26 times telepathically since she woke up (verbally only twice, so that would make it 28 times total).

I love you too.

At least she always said it back, projecting enough affection to dispel his embarrassment.

“So, what happens when you win at Jikkle-Tie?” she asked.

“Mmm, well, Neghlyvryn is an incredibly peaceful planet, and their culture obviously emphasizes compromise. This festival is called Rhibelini - an amalgamation of all three goddesses names - because this is the time when the goddesses renew their truce. So the team that wins a game of Jikltaii’s corresponding color determines what flavor of frip everyone eats at the end.”

“Frip?”

“It’s an ice cream-type treat,” he explained, swinging their hands together as the queue moved forward.

“That’s good. I’m definitely gonna need some, runnin’ around with a slingshot in this heat.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the general consensus.”

Eventually they reached the front and the Doctor ordered four waters, two kivries, and a couple poofs (each cut in half). He also got directions for the closest Jikltaii field.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Rose informed him as he handed her a kivy and a water before putting everything besides his own kivy into his trouser pocket.

“I just didn’t want to wait in line again. Imagine what it will be like once midday comes around?”

Ugh, fair.

“So this is like a soda, yeah?” she asked, after guzzling half the water bottle and then dumping the rest over her head. The Doctor couldn’t help but follow a few droplets as they trailed down her neck. Temperature was now not the only thing he needed to regulate.

“Yup. Very fizzy. Hey! Fizzy Kivy! It rhymes! Look at that!”

She laughed, her entire mental presence much brighter now that she’d cooled down a bit. They both opened their bottles before beginning to walk towards the field.

“Oh! ’S like- like lemon and somethin’ else …”

“Like lemon and cucumber,” he scowled, eying the bottle with disdain.

Rose took another sip. “Not so bad.”

“Blegh. Do you want mine, then?”

“Not right now,” she giggled before coughing and then sneezing after getting fizz up her nose.

And he knew she was fine, but the Doctor couldn’t keep himself from stopping and rubbing her back … just to make sure.

You’re sweet.

See, it’s rumors like that that make Absorbaloffs from Clom think that they can do whatever they’d like, he couldn’t help but think. He immediately regretted it, as Rose began brooding about everything her mum had been through. Tea yesterday had gone quite poorly.

“Sorry,” he whispered, taking her hand again and quickly getting them to the Jikltaii field.

Once they’d paid - credits! He loved credits. So much easier than keeping track of specific currencies, even if he still didn’t quite understand the ins and outs of money - the attendant, a native male with fiery orange hair and the pale blue and brown speckled skin typical of most Neghlyvits, immediately began to divide everyone into teams.

“Iniv team,” he told Rose before turning to the Doctor. “Belti team.”

“B-but I want to be on Rose’s team!” he complained.

“Nope. Everyone’s divided by colors. Your hair is kind of orange.”

“But we’re on our honeymoon!”

A burst of affection came through the bond, though it was hardly noticeable over how hilarious his bondmate thought he was being. She could really do with being a bit more interested in their romantic endeavors.

Sorry .

I forgive you, the Doctor projected.

“May you lovingly cover each other with paint,” the attendant drawled before handing them each their appropriately colored paint balls and sling shots.

“And I suppose they’re on Iniv team, then?” the Doctor queried, pointing at the two aliens next to them - both green, covered in scales, and having no hair to speak of.

“Yes.”

Figured. Maybe he should have dyed his hair before this. Or worn a wig. How was he supposed to know that teams were chosen this way?

Rose sent a mental image of how he would look as a blonde. Ew. Nope. Not even a wig. Next time Rose would have to dye her hair. He already knew she looked fantastic as a brunette, he’d seen pictures.

“It’ll be fine,” she consoled him as the attendant began a speech about the rules.

Apparently you weren’t out as soon as you were hit - you just took a two minute time out and at the end of the game they would figure out which team had the most paint on them if no one captured any flags.

“I want to be on your team,” the Doctor pouted.

“I think it’ll be more fun this way. Winner owes the other one a favor,” Rose smirked. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once, and he caught images of him painting her toenails, folding her laundry, cooking her dinner and a few that were decidedly X rated that she probably wouldn’t need to use a favor to cash in.

Good to know.

Still, he didn’t fancy folding her laundry.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he decided. They shook on it. “What happens if Rhiz team wins?”

“We’ll call that a tie. Each owe the other a favor.”

Before he could argue that, it was time for the teams to move out to their respective starting points. He could have continued over the bond, but his team mates were vying for his attention as they talked strategy.

It was just as fun as he thought it would be (though being on Rose’s team would have made it more fun). In the first fifteen minutes of the game, he didn’t see his wife anywhere. For a moment the Doctor worried that she had been assigned to guard their flag - how boring - but she was broadcasting much too much enjoyment and general competitiveness for that to be the case. Then he saw her head peeking out from behind a paint-caked wooden partition.

He ducked down, carefully keeping cover until he was right next to the barrier before he quickly jumped over it, shooting her twice before he landed clumsily on the other side.

“Ooof!” She may have said it aloud, but he was the one who had just landed hard on his bum. Really need to figure out how to turn off that part of the bond. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Not as fragile as you lot. No bruised tailbone.”

“Good,” Rose said, crawling over to him and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Still, I’ll probably need to check it later.”

If they weren’t telepathically connected, her meaning would have been made quite clear by the way she nipped his ear.

“Oh,” he squeaked, looking around to see if anyone was watching them as she climbed onto his lap. Then she was snogging him, and the Doctor really didn’t care if they were spotted. She was so warm and soft and the way her mind was caressing his was one of the best things in the Universe, he was sure of it. He groaned, pulling her closer, wanting more of something, though he wasn’t sure what and-

Loads of something wet and sticky ran down his head.

“Gotcha,” Rose whispered before she sprang to her feet and ran off.

The Doctor sat there for a moment, slightly dazed, trying to manually redirect his blood flow. Honestly, what kind of tactician was he to have overlooked the fact that Rose Tyler plays dirty? Apparently the answer to that question was: the kind of tactician who really wants to snog Rose Tyler. He shook his head, got up and regained his bearings.

It’s on, now, you minx, he sent across their bond.

All he got for his trouble was the telepathic equivalent of laughter.

“Friendly fire?” Uriit, one of the women on his team, asked when they ran into each other near a ropes section of the field.

He looked down at his shirt to find it smeared with orange paint.

“Something like that,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck and giving his ear a tug.

Throughout the rest of the game, the Doctor purposefully projected the most random things he could think of to Rose over the bond, hoping to distract her. Rambling lessons about tea cultivation, pocket dimensions, the War of the Eternals, different library cataloguing methods throughout time and space. Anything. The problem was, she wasn’t getting nearly as distracted by his thoughts as he seemed to always be by hers.

So he gave up that plan and set his sights on capturing the Iniv team flag as if the planet were at stake. This got him a five minute time out for attempting to mess with the sprinkler system.

In the end, team Rhiz did end up winning but no one caught any flags.

“Did you have fun?” Rose asked him as they sat at a picnic table eating their rhizit frip (berry-ish and minty, possibly the best frip flavor anyway, though they all sounded good to him).

“I would have had more fun if we were on the same team,” he sulked.

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll wear a wig, yeah?”

He shrugged. While the thought of her in a wig intrigued him, it didn’t fix today’s Jikltaii mishap. This was supposed to be their honeymoon. You can only play Jikltaii on your honeymoon once, after all.

“Rubbish,” Rose told him, “and you know it. Mum’s busy plannin’ a wedding as we speak. We’ll have another honeymoon before ya know it.”

“Oh.” The Doctor sat up straighter, suddenly much more interested in his frip and the topic of wigs. “I didn’t think of that. How many honeymoons do you think we could have?”

“Depends how many times you wanna get married,” she smiled, tongue between her teeth. He was certain that if he snogged her he’d be able to taste her rhizit frip. It probably tasted much better that way.

Later.

“But we don’t have any frip on the TARDIS,” he informed her, moving to sit on her side of the bench.

“Could get some.”

He blinked.

“Didn’t you just tell me the other day about how time doesn’t pass in your pockets?”

She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his kivry from earlier, still cold and fizzy.

“I hadn’t thought you were paying attention,” he admitted.

“I just tune out the technical parts.”

Rose finished up her dessert as if this wasn’t important information. Maybe for her it wasn’t. She was Rose Tyler so of course she wouldn’t have to learn new things about herself.

“Sooo,” the Doctor began, leaning his back against the table and stretching his legs in front of him, “earlier, when I was telling you all of that stuff and you didn’t get distracted …?”

“Kinda like havin’ the telly on in the background.”

Well that wasn’t very flattering.

She rolled her eyes. “I pay attention to the important stuff. And the interestin’ bits. But you’ve gotta admit, it’s kinda like you were playin’ the history channel.”

Fair enough.

“What would you like to do next?” he asked, hopping up off the table and grabbing their frip containers to take to the rubbish bin.

“Well, first things first, we definitely need to change.”

“Both of us?” He frowned, furrowing his brow. What was wrong with his suit?

“Doctor, we’re covered in paint.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, taking her hand and leading them toward the exit. “That’ll be dealt with in a mo’.”

To leave the area, everyone had to go through a small blue outbuilding. The Doctor watched Rose look around and saw the moment she noticed all of the drains in the floor.

“Wait-”

Water sprayed down on them. It lasted only a minute, and then the doors on the other side slid open.

“Better?” he asked as they stepped outside.

“Well, ’s better than disinfectant. And so refreshing right now.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the suns. Yup, about 31 degrees. He looked down at his suit - paint free (and drying very quickly).

“I still wanna change,” Rose said. They were walking hand in hand back toward the main city square. The crowds were dense around them, full of locals and tourists alike. The Rhibelini Festival was an intergalactic traveler’s must see. At least, that’s how the magazine had described it.

“You read about this in a magazine? What happened to them being dull?”

The Doctor huffed. “There wasn’t anything else to read or do at the time. We were trying to infiltrate that shady corporation on Arelenia II and I was sat in their waiting room. Had to blend in. Everyone else was reading those magazines they leave all over the place. In fact-” He dug into his jacket pocket “- here it is!”

“Why’d you take it?” she asked, grabbing it before attempting to read the cover page and walk at the same time.

“Well, it boasted the 250 must-see places for the experienced intergalactic traveler - that’s me. And I hadn’t been to some of them. I wanted the list. Also, the Geri Corporation committed many major human rights violations, and made me wait for almost an hour, so … they owed me.” He put his arm around Rose and led her to the side of the street before stopping and taking back the magazine. Should have known better, really. Rose Tyler and her magazines.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re not dull. They’re full of interesting stuff, and short for when you don’t feel like readin’ a whole novel.”

“The ones you read are always about clothes and makeup and gossip.”

“Useful, useful, funny.”

She may have him there - but he wasn’t going to admit it verbally. Her smug telepathic presence was enough, ta. They started walking again, Rose finally taking the time to people-watch.

“Those outfits, are they for somethin’ specific?” she asked, nodding toward a group of native girls wearing the traditional festival clothes - bralettes and asymmetrical skirts in yellow, orange, or red.

“Nope,” he replied, turning her attention to another crowd that had a mix of natives and tourists, most of whom were wearing the same basic outfit. Even a few men wearing the traditional skirt (though cut differently).

“It’s called a high-low.”

“What?”

“The skirts the girls got on. High-low.” Rose let go of his hand and placed hers at her mid-thigh. “High,” and then dropped it past her knees, “low.”

“Why would I ever need to know that?” the Doctor asked, puzzled.

She simply rolled her eyes, took his hand, and dragged him towards a row of shops. He tried to ignore her unflattering thoughts about men and shopping and blokes in general, figuring that he really wasn’t a man or a bloke so she couldn’t be referring to him. He hoped so, at least.

“I like their outfits, think I’d like to get one,” Rose told him as she began peeking into the shop windows.

“Okay.” Much better than going back to the TARDIS. More … festival-y.

So he tagged along behind her as she entered a boutique, hanging back when she went up to the counter and examining a display of hair accessories.

“Hello, I was wonderin’ if you could help me find a, uhm, traditional festival outfit,” Rose asked the clerk. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at the racks of said apparel that were plainly visible.

Yeah and are YOU an expert at the sizing here?

Deciding that she really must know best, the Doctor quietly left her to it, exiting the shop and letting her know telepathically that he’d be just outside. Outside was much more entertaining anyway. Buskers had begun playing, and there were pop up stalls, and all sorts of things to look at and do.

Would be better once Rose came back, though.

Still, couldn’t hurt to get the lay of the land. Have something planned for once she finished. It ended up being over forty-five minutes before Rose told him she was leaving the boutique, and he was down the other end of the block! That right there was some decent range. Eventually they were going to have to properly test how far apart they could telepathically communicate, but that could wait. The Doctor ran down the street, weaving between groups of tourists, before skidding to a standstill.

She was absolutely stunning.

The festival set she’d chosen was yellow - of course, really - with a gold (or iniyama) sun clasp at the centre of her bralette, and two tiny red and orange suns on each side near her arms. The skirt had a whispy white under-layer visible in the low part with little gold starbursts dotted around it.

If the goddess Iniya was real, he was certain that she would look just like Rose at this moment.

“Oh, Doctor,” she flushed before placing a hand on his cheek, pulling him down and kissing him. Unfortunately, as soon as he tried to deepen the kiss she pulled back.

Later.

He was getting tired of that word.

“C’mon, there’s activities this way,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her up the street.

“Hold your horses,” she laughed. “I’m gettin’ kinda hungry. We should eat those sandwiches you got.”

“Oh! Right! The poofs!”

“Poofs? Really?”

“Yup!” he told her, popping the ‘P’.

It didn’t take long to find a picnic table - they seemed to be everywhere - and settle in with their food and another bottle of water. He wondered if he’d gotten enough.

“Huh. ’S like a fruity cold cut,” Rose commented after swallowing her first bite.

“Reminds me of blackberries,” he agreed. Definitely a better flavor combination than the kivry. He shuddered at the memory. Could still kind of taste it, even after the frip.

They were quiet, quickly eating the poofs, and then off back toward the fun. The Doctor glanced behind him as he led her through the crowd and was thrilled to see her smiling. Her mental presence was bright and happy and really, this was so amazing and such a great day. He should probably marry Rose Tyler as often as possible, so that they could keep going on honeymoons.

She laughed. “Y’know our life is travelin’ around, right?”

“Oh, but this is different! This is romantic traveling. Newlywed traveling.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Don’t you want to keep marrying me?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the street and pulling her closer.

“Mmm might do. Still, honeymoons generally last ‘bout a week. And we’ve got another wedding comin’ up. So how ‘bout we see how it goes.”

He kissed her, and once again she didn’t allow their tongues to even get a tiny bit involved.

Later.

Worst. Word. Ever.

He tilted his head back and let out a groan before continuing on until they reached the games area.

“It’s almost like a carnival!” Rose exclaimed, wandering over toward a water shooting game where winners could potentially get some chintzy star jewelry. “Gonna win me a bracelet?” she asked with a cheeky smirk, cocking her hips to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“As you wish,” the Doctor said with a mock-bow, walking up to the booth and picking up a water gun.

The game was rigged. Should be illegal, that. Ended up having to play six times just to get one dinky plastic bracelet, and the rhizala (metallic red) paint was noticeably chipping. He handed it to Rose with a frown.

“I love it,” she told him, immediately putting it on.

And the strange thing was that he could tell that she meant it.

“But- but it’s so cheap and they wouldn’t let me pick it out myself, so I couldn’t get the gold one, and-”

“I love it ‘cause you got it for me. And I’m keepin’ it forever,” she whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek.

Well. That was okay, then.

The next games stand they walked up to had a big banner atop it that said ‘Grizchootinki’ and appeared to be bobbing for apples, except the fruits were definitely not apples.

“How ‘bout I win you something?” Rose suggested, pointing at the stuffed toys hanging above the water barrel. She attempted to pull him toward the stand, but the Doctor would not budge.

“Why play that game when we could do this?” he blindly pointed to the stand across from it, then looked to see what it was.

Face painting.

Ehh …

She raised an eyebrow but still allowed him to take them over there, all the while not saying a word about how closed off he’d made their bond. Honestly, Rose had much more restraint than he did and he wasn’t sure how she did it. Still, he was grateful.

Or not. Once they got to the booth he noticed that his wife had a rather wicked gleam in her eye.

“Oh, you look wonderful!” the artist told Rose. “I have the perfect iniyama pattern for you. It will match your outfit so well!”

“Thanks,” she smiled, “but if you could do him first? He was super excited to come get his face done up.”

How had he gone so long without realizing that she was evil?

“Of course! Have a seat! We’ll have you looking more festive in no time. Definitely beltofana paint for you,” the artist said. Before he knew it the Doctor found himself seated, getting his face painted.

And it took ages.

“Alright, let’s see it,” he announced as soon as it was finished, pasting on a smile he really wasn’t feeling.

Oh, don’t be a baby.

Must have let the barriers slip while being tortured. Not surprising. (Also, it was incredibly hard to block the bond - it definitely did not want to be closed. Really had to get to that research).

You’re how old, now? Rose’s smile, at least, was genuine. And she wasn’t laughing (except in his head) so he must not look too ridiculous.

“No, wait until you’re both finished. It will be better if you see together.”

During his face painting, Rose and the artist had chatted. Once they found out that he and Rose were on their honeymoon, they got ideas. So he leaned against the booth and watched as she got her face painted. And it really did look lovely on her. But of course it did. Everything did. Weeeell, most things. To be fair, some things were designed to not look good on anybody - dinner lady uniforms came to mind. Even then, she was the best looking dinner lady of all of them. Though the rest were Krillitanes. Eh, still.

I love you, Rose’s telepathic voice rang in his head.

And he’d been trying so hard all day to not keep saying it after this morning’s slightly insane overuse of the phrase, but now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever stopped saying it.

(Multiple marriage proposals may have had something to do with it).

I love you, too. So, so much.

Waiting to be able to touch her until her face was finished became incredibly difficult. But he managed. Barely.

(There was a brief moment where he sat on the ground next to her and rested his head against her hip, but he didn’t like the knowing look the artist gave him and decided to go back to leaning against the booth).

Then finally, finally she was done.

The artist brought out a mirror from behind her booth and set it up for them to look. And as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it, they had done a spectacular job. Both of their faces were decorated with intricate swirls and stars, the patterns somehow mirroring each other. The Doctor had a feeling that if he were to somehow overlay just the artwork, it would become one piece.

“This is so great!” Rose exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. Now, the face paint is waterproof. It will fade naturally within the next week. If you need it removed before then, there is an alcohol solution that will speed up the process. I do sell it, if you need it.”

He was positive that he could easily make the solution himself on the TARDIS, but with Rose’s mental nudging he ended up buying some from the artist when he paid for the painting. He also left a very generous tip.

“Alright, so tell me,” she said out of seemingly nowhere as they walked away from the booth.

“Huh?”

“Tell me why you don’t want me to win you a stuffed, er, whale thingy.”

“It’s a star whale. They’re actually extinct. Funny thing about star whales-”

“Doctor.”

With a sigh he turned toward her, dropping her hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d be bobbing for choots.”

“And?”

“They taste like pears,” he informed her.

“So? I’d be the one bobbin’ for ‘em.”

“Yeah … but …”

“But?”

“Then you’d taste like choots.”

Rose burst out laughing, her amusement apparently so great that she could hardly remain upright. It really wasn’t that funny. She just laughed harder.

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself. Really, this is completely unnecessary. It’s almost suns-set! Ever watched three suns set at once? Rose! Stop laughing!”

She pulled herself together slowly, wiping a tear from her eye.

“I’m gonna bob for choots.”

This obviously wasn’t up for debate, so bob for choots she did. And her game obviously wasn’t rigged like his had been. That or the game attendant with the wandering eyes was giving his wife preferential treatment. The Doctor glared at the adolescent until the boy looked properly terrified. And Rose had really only gotten enough choots to win a medium sized star whale, but the kid handed her the big one before sending them on their way.

“Ya didn’t have to go all ‘Oncoming Storm’ on ‘em,” she informed him while handing over the giant toy. Honestly, what was he supposed to do with this right now? He may have bigger-on-the-inside pockets, but they required the object to at least be pocket sized before going in.

“He was leering at my wife,” the Doctor muttered, trying to see if he could slowly squish the star whale into his jacket pocket, and failing.

Rose shook her head before swatting his hand away from his pocket. “Let’s just go back to the TARDIS and drop him off.”

“Him?”

“Don’t you think he looks like a boy?”

“I’m not sure star whales have genders.”

“Well, it’s your star whale, so whatever you want. Whatcha gonna name ‘em?”

“I … haven’t given it any thought. I’ll get back to you on it. We’ll have to be quick if we want to stop back at the TARDIS and catch the suns-set. Which I do. You’re going to want some sort of jumper or something anyway. It gets chilly once the suns go down,” he told her, finally managing to hold her hand and the stuffed animal at the same time.

It ended up being slow going. He could hardly see past the star whale, so Rose had to lead them and she was much more polite while walking in a crowd than he was. Also they had to walk. Couldn’t run with the star whale. Once they made it back to the TARDIS, the Doctor opened the door and chucked the stuffed animal into the console room.

“Aww poor star whale,” Rose pouted, as if the stuffed animal had feelings.

“Sammy is fine,” he assured her. “Now go fetch a coat, quick, or we’ll miss it.”

“Sammy the Star Whale?”

“Yes. Love me some alliteration. Now off you pop!”

Rose bit her lip, glanced in the TARDIS and then back to him. “It’d take ages for me to find something that looks good with this outfit. I don’t think we’ve got time.”

He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that she’d look good in anything. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t make a difference. She already knew he thought that, after all (not to mention it was now likely being repeated). It mattered to her, though, and she was right - the way she could dither around the wardrobe room, it would take ages.

“Alright, c’mon then,” he said, quickly grabbing his coat off a nearby strut and then her hand after locking the TARDIS. “I’ll keep you warm. Run!”

They sprinted through a few back alleys before he found a fire escape that didn’t look to be on the verge of collapse, and they ended up atop a grocers. The sky was already turning a deep orange as he fanned out his coat on the roof for them to sit on.

Rose cuddled into his side, lying her head on his shoulder as they settled in to watch the three suns set on Neghlyvryn. Orange slowly faded into pink and then purple, and six of the eight moons became visible.

“Can we hold hands and watch the sky together, forever?” he asked her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head,

“Forever is a long time to watch the sky, dontcha think?”

“Oh, but not just this sky. All of the skies.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Yeah,” he breathed into her hair.

“Well, that’s alright then,” Rose decided.

“Good.”

Then he realized that they were finally alone, that later had finally arrived. So he kissed her. And she tasted like choots, but it was okay. Well, it wasn’t okay, but he could get past it. Kind of.

Without much thought or planning the Doctor tipped them both over and he was on top of her, tongue exploring her mouth as if it was uncharted territory (and it kind of was, since he had never thought to actually map it the previous times they’d snogged). Rose moaned, pulled him impossibly closer, wrapped a leg around his hip, and he forgot all about mentally charting her mouth.

He was finally able to touch all of the tantalizing skin she’d had exposed all day, teasing him.

I love you, he projected across the bond and he didn’t care how often he told her. She needed to know.

I love you, too.

And maybe he needed to hear it. Just a bit.

He ran a hand up her back and felt her shiver … and then shiver some more.

When he pulled back, Rose was gasping for breath and still shivering.

“Sorry, here,” he said, helping her to stand before picking his coat up off the ground and wrapping it around her before holding her close.

“Y’know you’re not exactly warm, right?”

Actually, he’d forgotten. But really, after snogging Rose Tyler he felt like he was on fire , so-

Oh. Right.

“C’mon, I know just the thing!” he told her with a grin, letting her go and then taking her hand to lead her back down from the roof.

Soon enough they were back in the city square, where three gigantic bonfires had been lit, surrounded by many smaller fires. The entire area and surrounding blocks we covered in red, orange, and yellow paper lanterns in various star shapes. It was quite warm.

They made a beeline towards the closest big fire.

“This is more like it,” Rose smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder. “Is it just me, or is the fire … glittery?”

“Nope, not just you. They call it ‘bip powder’. It’s also what’s making it smell like incense right now, instead of your usual wood-burning-smell.”

“I like it. We should get some of that, too.”

“Could do. But when do we ever have fires?” He looked down at her, furrowing his brow.

“In the TARDIS library?” Rose reminded him, complete with telepathic images of his own ship.

“Ohhh the TARDIS wouldn’t want bip powder in her grates. It’s … messy … and- and … the smell reminds her of hippies. The TARDIS is not a fan. I was talking about fires outside of the TARDIS.”

Even as the words fell out of his gob, he knew that his bondmate wasn’t going to buy it. Of course not. And it wasn’t really lying, so much as saving face, but none of that could be accomplished with a permanent telepathic connection.

“Don’t need to be in your head to know you’re full of it,” Rose informed him with a light smack to his bottom. She was still smiling, though, and her mind felt calm and happy and warm next to his, so at least he hadn’t upset her.

I don’t think I want you touching my bum in public, he lightly scolded her telepathically.

Says the alien who spent most of the day trying to shove his tongue down my throat?

“I did not!” the Doctor exclaimed, offended.

“Whatever you say.” Rose rolled her eyes and then her attention was taken by the music starting up. It was whimsical and cheery, but with a steady drumbeat that could be felt through your feet. And all at once, everyone started dancing around the fires, the locals doing a specific number with some tourists trying to copy it while others just did their own thing.

She took both his hands and pulled him into the dance, quick to catch on to the different stomping patterns and waves of hands. He was happy to follow her lead. Happy to dance with her. Happy to make this day last as long as he possibly could. Against the background of the fire, Rose looked even more like a goddess.

Doesn’t have to end. We’re on our honeymoon.

Visions of hotel rooms and many things that distracted him from dancing, nearly causing him to trip, flashed across the bond.

“Right you are, Rose Tyler.”

This time he knew better than to interrupt the dancing, dragging her off to the next great idea. They didn’t stop dancing until they reached the furthest bonfire, having moved through the square in a winding line. The dance wasn’t over, would go well into the night, but Rose’s feet were beginning to tire after being on them all day.

So as much as he wanted to run to the nearest hotel, he didn’t. They walked slowly, and she drank the last of their water, listening to the music and watching the seemingly unending dance.

When they eventually found a hotel - the Doctor didn’t feel like stopping to ask for directions - the lobby was empty of other guests, only a lone receptionist sitting at the desk.

“Hello, do you have a reservation?”

“No, no reservation. We’d like to book a room.”

The receptionist blinked.

“I’m sorry sir, there’s no rooms available. We’ve been fully booked for the festival for years.”

“For years? Really? Suppose that makes sense. Do you know of anywhere else in the area-”

“Everyone’s been fully booked for years.”

The Doctor frowned, then had them check the database just in case he did have a reservation - sometimes time travel could get around these things, tiny circular paradox. But they didn’t. Not anywhere in the city.

“Would you like to book a room for the next festival?”

He was about to say no, but then Rose said, “We’d love to. Honeymoon suite, if you can.”

Once everything was settled, they were back on the streets, still hotel-room-less for the present.

“What good did that do us?” he asked. “We’ve a room, but not for 15 years.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got a time machine, and apparently countless other honeymoons to go on. Can do the festival again, and next time we play Jikltaii I can wear a wig.”

“I love you.”

She grinned and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

“Still, what do we do now?”

“May not have a hotel room, but we still have the TARDIS.”

“But that’s not honeymoon-y. That’s- that’s where we live.”

“I think we can still manage to make it honeymoon-y,” Rose smirked, as a bunch of very graphic scenarios filtered into his mind.

They ran back to the TARDIS.

They didn’t make it past the console room.

They didn’t even really make it out of their clothes.

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