#this is meant to be a hermit sandwich

[asaphira]

🔵Warden vs. 🔴 S-tier skins (♂️)

[majickth]

Mister Etho Slab, Preferably from the Hermits Hollow AU bc i don't know if we saw him in it yet, but i would love to see him in it as your local EthoGirl

A gas station sits sandwiched between spindly pines and an outstretched road. Its lights flicker a fluorescent off-white glare, illuminating the sole occupant inside the store: a bored looking cashier who alternates between flicking through his phone and reading a magazine. He waves when you enter, but otherwise pays no mind other than looking up every so often to make sure you’re not shoplifting. You get the sense that, even if you were, he’d shrug and keep reading anyways.

It only hits you, when you’re elbow deep in the coolers reaching for a drink, why the place feels so…off. It’s not that it’s midnight and you’re the only customer here. It’s not the constant droning buzz of fluorescent lights. It’s that you don’t remember how you got here, or why, or where you’re going after. You’re stuck in a transitional point, a liminal station being neither here nor there, existing only in the confines of where you were before and where you will be soon. Wherever that may be.

“You shouldn’t think about it too much,” the cashier says, unprompted. “Places like these aren’t meant to be thought about.” It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak. In fact, it’s the first time anyone’s said anything at all since you first entered.

You decide it’s for the best to just pay for your drink and leave.

[alyjojo]

March 🌞 2024 Monthly - Capricorn

Preshuffle: Something you see or hear at/regarding work hits you in a way that, it hurts! Really hurts your feelings, but you also don’t know if it should or if someone *meant* to hurt your feelings. Were they even talking about you? You don’t speak up so you don’t know. Some of you have a crush on someone at work and it’s that person, for others it could be something regarding how someone looks. Or maybe you, again you don’t know. You’re worried maybe someone doesn’t like you at all.

Meditation: Short & sweet but cute as hell. Your door, was on the floor, and I had to “drop in” to get in, but it was made of ice cream sandwich. The actual door was. So I dropped in & took a bite of your door and you chuckled, cut off the piece I bit (germs hello) and replaced that spot, good as new. I asked what was this for and your eyes kinda sparkled when you said “I’m drawing them in.” Really, with ice cream? Yes! You knew what you were doing 🤷🏻‍♀️

Main energy: The Hermit

Oracles being Trap (connected to and mimicking 4 Swords), Self-Love, Principle, and Illness at the bottom which refuses to not be acknowledged - so it’s important. The Hermit is clarified by The Devil, and this energy is better than ice cream any day ijs. Or is that the trap? 🤔 Whooo I heard that and gasped 😱 it gave me goosebumps! Ok I don’t like that…moving on. Not for everyone, definitely for someone. For some of you, illness or addiction may be involved, health on some level. The Hermit goes inward, these are things you’re privately working through, taking a hard honest look at yourself and your own issues. Or…setting a trap for someone with that behavior, maybe you’re suspicious of someone proven as a Devil but acting as if they’ve changed. Have they though? You’re going deep within to figure that out - alone. Because these two cards specifically tackle codependency and breaking free from that - however it’s affecting you. A person, an addiction, a mindset, something that’s kept you in chains or threatens to? At the bottom is a lot of work, literally could be work, or you’re putting more into yourself independently because it’s necessary. Self care, healing, sleeping better, could be medical issues too.

What’s going on in March:

4 Swords:

Some of you are just done with love, the last experience probably kicked your butt, you have inner work to do and don’t want anyone else getting in the way of that. If you’re choosing to be alone, then you mean business, it’s not something you can be coerced with. The Emperor sets boundaries, and at the bottom of the deck there’s a pattern of abandonment, either in you or towards you, you realize this isn’t healthy and you’re actively taking steps to work on bettering yourself. Good for you 👏 Some of you may be dealing with a father figure / ex spouse perhaps, they could be dealing with health problems and want to make amends for past transgressions. This may be you too, if you have health issues (could just be sick sometime this month), then someone you’ve not been getting on well with could use this as the opportunity to “take care of” you and relight a spark. Do nice things. Idk if it actually is a trap or you just see it that way, what I get from someone else seems genuine. Judgement at the bottom is a hard review of past decisions & everything that’s happened, someone is sorry. Victory under that. Whether you believe them or not…🤷‍♂️ Could be you with the same energy, swooping in to save the day, or that was the intention. The trap.

Queen of Swords:

Clarified by Ace of Swords, 3 Pentacles, The Empress at the bottom. Likely a partner or parents. Great cards coming out so far, I was kinda expecting more doom & gloom, but no. For some of you it could literally be a Hermit mentality that’s becoming toxic, people want you around, likely your parents if that’s the case, could be grandparents, aunt/uncle or aunt/aunt idc, a pair you’re close (ish) to. The more feminine energy of the pair is the one trying to get you to come around, calling you, sending you some kind of news or invite, maybe for a coming holiday, it’s their excuse to see you again. Could be an ex if you’ve recently split, or your partner if not. They’re not being emotional at all, but they’re communicating to you with a sense of fairness, honesty, all positive cards at the bottom of the deck, this person sees you warmly & feels good to be around you 😊 They could ask for your help with something, also as an excuse, but I’m seeing it’s not manipulative or anything, they just want to work together. The image I’m getting is my own grandma calling my dad every year to set up her window air conditioner. She genuinely needed it but she liked asking *him*. Was it a “trap” yeah and also, go see Grandma 😆

If this is a private thing, both of these may be your energy and you’re separating yourself from just about everyone, seeing the truth of a matter, a cycle, and setting up strict rules & boundaries with anyone interacting with you going forward. Self-Care 💜 You’re not going to argue, it’s not drama, it’s you knowing what you need or don’t need, what’s good and bad for you, raising your standards. Probably because you’ve experienced the bad stuff, or you’re more intellectual with all of these swords, I don’t see emotions really appealing much to you. “Love” is a trap, but teamwork is essential.

Judgement:

Your attitude towards a reconnection of some kind is just not enthused at all. It’s like you don’t even care…could be a lack of emotions showing up as “illness”. I’m not a doctor so, no examples, I’m not even seeing any. Devoid of a deeper emotional connection, or enough experience with something to know better. Judgement feels like actual judgement, a reconnection is available for someone but most are internalizing and keeping to themselves. Whatever wants to reunite, you don’t. Or they don’t. Mostly because there are heavy emotions involved, hidden at the bottom, and they’re not being talked about. If you address it, you’re going to feel it, and if you feel it, you’re just going to be sad. So you stay alone and don’t, you don’t have to care in this headspace, you just work and focus on what’s in front of you. Comfortably Numb - is what I heard. The Devil.

For those where reconnecting doesn’t apply, you’re considering your work, everything you’ve been applying effort to, and you feel trapped either way. If you stay, you feel blocked, like things will never change, you could/should be appreciated more but you’re not. If you go, you’re just going to be sad you left and things are going to get worse, doom & gloom, there it is. The Devil 👿 Negative perceptions that keep you stuck, even if they’re based off of real things or past experiences, The Fool is something brand new, it’s not *the same* experience. Some of you realize this and may be seeking clarity on these mental judgements or behaviors even that keep you stuck. Probably privately, I’m not seeing a counselor here, but if it exists you recognize it. Someone may have flat out told you with this Queen of Swords energy.

Strength:

Strength conquers The Devil, that’s what you want to see, by refraining to be trapped, engage, or deal with anything involving this behavior - even in yourself. Re-tuning your own mind, if it jumps to the negative conclusion, questioning your own self. Now why would I think that? Oh, because I’m conditioned to. It isn’t easy, some of this may have come from parents in the first place (even well-meaning or healthy ones). The Hanged Man clarifies, so not only is your magnifying glass to yourself and your own bs, but Judgement with this row shows you’re also studying those around you and gauging where certain behaviors or beliefs may have come from. Why am I like this?? Essentially. The deeper motivations of people. Very powerful energy this month, heavy major arcana. Principle in your oracles show that this is based on a personal moral/belief system for you. Regardless of what others have taught, said, think, whatever, for YOU this is a spade, I’m allergic to spades. No spades by me. You can like spades and that’s fine but keep that shit over there because no. Or whatever it is.

At the bottom is a couple again, could be a person, could be parents. You don’t want to connect to the emotion attached to this situation, it’s *pure* logic, and you think emotions are the trap. Love is a trap. But there is very deep love here, whether for parents, a spouse, a whoever they are. All Cups, the matching Cups pair, could be your soulmate even. It’s like you don’t see that or don’t want to, it’s easier to make decisions from an intelligent and moralistic viewpoint than letting emotions get involved because then things get messy. Deep down it’s like you love something deeply and have sadness or regret, but it’s buried under all of this maturity belief system bs, and it’s like yeah okay whatever AND, you love them. Period. Whoever. Whatever. /avoid

If it’s work, you may not see how much people actually care for and appreciate you. Closest thing to love, you are a valued member of a team even if others don’t always show it. Some of you need to stop being so logical and check in with your heart. Are you happy? Do you love this thing you do? Do people appreciate you? Is it actually toxic or no? You’re ignoring the emotion part of decision making, it can look great on paper all the way down the page and you still hate it or love it so - that matters 💯

6 Swords:

Moving away from drama, but clarified by The Hermit it seems more like moving away from Hermit energy. Page of Cups at the bottom can be a surprise, an invitation, flirty energy even. The Star follows as healing, a light in the dark to show you the way. Lucy from Indigo shows a friend. Someone is going to message you, and it may freak you out at first because you’re living in a cave or something, but it actually turns out well. It gets you out of your head (for a minute anyway) so you can see things differently. You only feel stuck. Maybe you were meant to be stuck to realize some shit. But you’re not “meant to be stuck” forever. Someone else’s love or kindness can trigger you to be nicer to yourself, and let go of some of these negative perceptions about the world, life, love, emotion, etc. If work, someone is likely to surprise you and make things better then even you thought they’d be. Love can access things that logic can’t, because nothing about love is logical. Doesn’t have to be romantic either, someone giving off love towards you, could be a sweet stranger, it doesn’t matter but it’s going to inspire you.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Virgo, Capricorn, Libra, Leo & Aquarius

Oracle: ✨

38 Growth 🪴

This situation or time is one of rapid growth. The seeds that have been planted have germinated and taken root. Go with the flow of this growing time. You may find people and situations falling away from your life, as now they do not serve who and what you are becoming. It may be that your vibration no longer resonates with theirs. It’s okay, wish them well, be grateful for what they brought to you and you to them, and send them on their way. Room has now been made for new experiences, people, and situations to help you to your next level. If you are not feeling this shift right now, be prepared because it will soon come to pass.

Trap 🪤

Victim - Allure - Trick

Self-Love ❤️

Self Concern - Self Healing - Independence

Principle ⛪️ - Sagittarius Saturn

We enter into March as:

Final Sunset 🌅 :

“A life has come to its spectacular conclusion.”

This is a reminder to cherish all of the beauty in your life, including endings. Spirit embraces you and the loss you are aware of at this time. When we watch a day’s sunset, we can recognize the beauty of an ending. All things have a completion, even life. This is the end of a long journey. It is a time to reflect on your part of history, and discover what you value most. This could be a long emotional road ending, or simply a project at work that took a lot of effort and time. Too often we look to what is “next”, and miss the spectacular beauty of the finale. Do not fear the completion. Stay in the now, cry, laugh, reflect. Be with the fullness of your experience.

What is to be learned in March:

Lucy From Indigo 💟:

“I’m so glad you’re in my life.”

If this card has come to you, then you’ve been graced with a connection and you are most fortunate. One of the most valuable assets in our lives is friendship. This is a reminder to be grateful for the people in your life, this itself raises our vibration to a higher level. If you are unhappy in any relationships, Lucy is a reminder that it is always in our power to change it. Whatever lack you are feeling in your life, if you give that to others, you will receive the very thing you feel deprived of. The time is now to become what we want to become. If you are withholding from anyone it is you who will suffer the consequences. Be the example and live this day with gratitude. Kindness is contagious. In order to be who we want to be, we must simply be that person, there is no mystery to being a good person. Good people do good things.

Purple may be a lucky color 💜

[kadavernagh]

A Grave Matter || Regan & Lil

TIMING: Before the Sound of Silence LOCATION: The medical examiner's office PARTIES: Lil and Regan SUMMARY: Regan finds Lil waiting for her at the ME's office because she wants to ask about her family, and whether there might be a match with anyone in the morgue. Regan is obliging and offers some help. CONTENT WARNING: Themes of sibling/family death

Somehow, Marcy always called during the worst moments. Regan had just plucked one of the remaining hermit crabs out of her lunch – a perfectly good sandwich – when her phone rang. The little bugger scuttled out of her hands and then out of sight as she answered the phone. But, as always, the calls were important. Marcy had someone to see her. Or more precisely, she had said: “There’s a next of kin here for you. She looks very sad. Not, like, emotionally, but as a person.” 

Regan sighed, scooped up her necklace, and tidied up her hair. So much for a lunch break. She never minded when a death scene interrupted her plans, but a next of kin? Couldn’t Rickers take them? She pushed through the double doors, scanning the lobby for whoever showed up in search of a deceased loved one. There was only one person there. Regan blinked at the young woman, who did indeed look pretty sad, but not in the tearful, distraught way one came to expect here. Most of the time, she was the one tracking down next of kin and calling them in. Very rarely did they take the initiative to check the morgue themself, unless they already knew about a loved one’s fate. 

Regan recalled her script. It sounded more forced and unfamiliar by the day, impossible to squeeze back into after years apart. Who was she to pretend to empathize, anymore? No one. She was no one. That was the point. Her tone ended up rote and bored. “I’m sorry for your loss, miss. What brings you here today? Can I ask who your loved one is? Their name, or identifying features – tattoos, birthmarks, any information you can provide?”

Lil didn’t want to do this. After all, she didn’t actually know if her family was gone. Still she couldn’t get it out of her head that they might just be stuck unclaimed in the morgue. It wouldn’t be right, and she couldn’t ask Jonas to come with her. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t call him immediately - but to ask him to do this now seemed selfish and unnecessarily hurtful. So she was resigned, at least a little bit to the fate of looking by herself. She figured that they wouldn’t necessarily know to contact Lil or Jonas if they found their family members. So she went in and softly but firmly that she wanted to see if her family members were there. 

So when the doctor came out Lil looked at the other, trying to remember what she had thought to say, having rehearsed to answer the questions. After all, she figured that they might fight her on going to look, saying that she shouldn’t go through other channels. Instead the doctor looked almost a little resigned - and not at all what she expected. Then again, Lil didn’t often look upset or personable in her job either. Working with the dead meant you had to keep your emotions at bay - even if it was specifically hurtful. 

“I don’t actually know if they are there, but it’s my family. It would be four people.��� Lil said realizing that her voice was much calmer than she felt saying it out loud. “They’ve been missing, and - no one checked here to see if they were here. My Uncle Charlie just told me that he hadn’t so I figured I would. Their names are June and Jacob Ballard. Those are my parents. My sister Jane and my sibling Jude might be here too.” Lil paused for a second and started to pull out papers out of her bag of photos of her family members. “I know they might look different now if they are with you, but I - figured these might be better than me explaining right? I also have a list of identifying features as well.” Pulling the paper she tried not to look too closely at the list again. She’d spent the sleepless night before writing down anything that could possibly be helpful. 

“I know you probably don’t do this, but I - wanted to see if you would check and see if they might be here since my brother and I weren’t contacted right when they went missing. I figured that maybe no one contacted you all either. I have paperwork that I’m related to all of them .” Lil said her eyes glancing at a picture of her mom - her throat closing slightly as she tried to shake the thought away. She wasn’t going to cry here. 

It’s my family. Three words chiseled away at the nice, comfortable wall Regan had built for herself. This wasn’t about a missing father or lost sibling, but an entire family, presumed dead. It wasn’t the first time Regan encountered such a tragedy, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was surprising. What was more surprising was the composure the girl managed to keep so far, given the immeasurable loss. Regan now looked at her with focus and a hint of determination. It was because her interest had been piqued. Nothing more. She didn’t care – not about this woman, only the state of her deceased family and whether they had been recovered. How could she care about the delicate emotions of a human? 

“I see. So they’re missing.” Regan tapped her fingers to her lips, mentally flipping through her open case files to consider a potential fit. The girl had anticipated everything, it seemed, and even had a photograph to present to her. She crouched, making eye contact with the individuals in the photo – whether they were truly happy was up for interpretation, but they were certainly complete. A big, cohesive family. She shook her own ghosts away. They weren’t welcome here, anywhere. “Yes, they almost always look different when they’re with me. That’s something to prepare yourself for. Well, normally…” In this case, however, Regan didn’t think they looked familiar, even taking post-mortem changes into account. Beneath swollen faces and glossy eyes, none of her current decedents looked particularly like these individuals. Although, she did recognize one of them from elsewhere.

She thought she didn’t do that? Regan blinked, then nodded. “Of course I do that. I often have families come here to confirm identity. Or inquire. But… you came prepared to hear the worst. Most people only come prepared for good news. That our forms of identification are incorrect, or that their loved one made it to the hospital and not the morgue.” She shook her head. “But I’m not certain that matters here. I’m afraid I may not be able to help you.” Not like this, anyway. Given the extensive documentation, there still might be things she’d be able to do. If she were willing to risk her secrecy to help. 

The girl looked on the verge of tears. Regan steeled herself, knowing she had to be as unmoved as death itself. So she had a potentially dead family. So did many in this damned town. The girl could justify her own emotions to herself, and Regan didn’t fault her for them. But she would not participate in the sorrow. She couldn’t. Still, Regan understood that sometimes a lack of an answer was worse than staring down at your loved one as they were reeled out of the freezer. Things might have been about to get worse, more tense, more difficult to deny. “What is your name? I – there is one individual who may be worth your viewing. I suggest you do not get your hopes up – whatever that means for you, in this situation.”

Lil was used to being the person delivering bad news. After all, an exorcist was never called because something was going well. She had been witness to plenty of people’s worst days and while she tried not to let it make her miserable, it was hard to deny it. So she didn’t think the doctor’s business demeanor was wrong, she’d seen it plenty with the people she worked with, even if Lil herself tended to be the one that wanted to make the client smile or at least comfort them. It wasn’t for everyone. 

Lil nodded at the statement trying to regain her composure and not think too deeply at the moment. “I figured. I know that they won’t look the same if they are here.” Another uncomfortable truth about being an exorcist is that death - both the spiritual and physical remnants were something that Lil had to experience. It never exactly got easy for her, but there were some duties that you had to do. Death - like most things in her life -was an inevitable thing that she wasn’t exactly scared of in concept- even if she wanted badly to stave it away from her family. 

Lil shrugged slightly at the observation of the other considering that she was looking at the worst. “I figured I shouldn’t give myself false hope.” It was partially true - but there was something else there too. Lil knew worse fates then to end up here. If they ended up here that means that they weren’t lost and scared. It meant that they weren’t being used by demons or - god forbid having their souls used. It wasn’t a pleasant thing, and it would hurt Lil badly, but if they were here it meant that she could properly perform funeral rites. That’s all she really could ask for. 

At the news she might not be able to help, Lil looked down and nodded lightly, “Ah - I mean it’s okay if you can’t help. - ” Lil stopped as the other asked for her name and there was a spark in her eyes as she went for her license fishing it out of her pocket focused on the little task to not think about the rest, “Oh. My bad - my name is Lilian Ballard - I go by Lil. I have my identification if you need it.” 

At the information there was a body, part of Lil wanted to freeze up. She wanted to say that she was mistaken and that she didn’t need the other’s help after all  - but that second didn’t last long. Lil had known coming here that this was a possibility, and if it was one of her family members - if they were down in the morgue waiting for her to come collect them she had to do it. Her jaw setting slightly she nodded and said, “I won’t. I appreciate it. Can we go see them now or do I need to sign something?” Her voice was slightly hollow, but at least she hadn’t fallen overself with the potential news. 

“Most hope is false, Ms. Ballard.” It was something Regan suspected from a young age and a lesson that was solidified during her time at Saol Eile. Banshees did not hope. To hope was to question Fate. And though Regan didn’t believe in such notions, one thing had become clear: there was no use for hope when you were going to die, anyway, inevitably. And everyone was going to die. Hope was nothing more than a delusion for cowards to usher themselves through their pitiable lives. Regan constantly tried to press all hope out of herself, but she wasn’t good enough, strong enough, and every once in a while some managed to work its way inside of her. Today, that wouldn’t be the case. She wouldn’t hope one way or the other whether the decedent she was going to allow Lil to view was familiar to her or not. 

“So long as you understand that, please follow me.” Regan nodded toward the door, gesturing for Lil to follow her. She swiped herself in and led her down the narrow hallway, past the autopsy suite and into the morgue. “The decedent in question resembles your sister, Jane, but only somewhat.” The individual in the morgue didn’t have the same pixie cut Lil’s sister bore, but hair could change, and the height, ethnicity, age, and face shape were at least similar. “I recognize your brother, by the way. Not from my morgue. Jonas, correct?” She wondered how much more she could say. Jonas would probably tell Lil how that interaction went, regardless. She decided to simply proceed with the grim affair of confirming visual identity. “I’m going to trust that you’ve prepared yourself now, and won’t delay.” 

Regan traced the names along the freezers with her fingers until she found the Jane Doe she was looking for – she’d come in a couple of weeks ago, autopsy still pending in hopes of identifying her first. No signs of external trauma on the body, but that didn’t mean there were none inside. Regan unlocked the freezer and with a metallic thump that sounded all-too-loud in the quiet morgue, she slowly rolled the sliding bottom of the cadaver locker out so that Lil could view the body. She preferred to do this in the viewing room, but given that Lil came to her and seemed to be prepared to tolerate any answer, there was little reason to waste time arranging for something so superficial. “What do you think?” She eyed Lil, knowing the girl would probably be lost staring at the cadaver either way. “Do you know her?”

“You can call me Lil,” She said softly. After all Ms. Ballard was Jane not her. Still, she didn’t comment on the idea of most hope being false. It wasn’t exactly a new idea for Lil to be presented with, after all she heard a lot of different conflicting thoughts surrounding death. Some people held comfort in a great beyond and others insisted that there was nothing. It wasn’t something Lil dwelled on as - well frankly any answer would be cruel. To hope against the odds Lil saw, was worse than accepting what happened. She just wanted to know at the end of the day. “Okay,” Lil said simply, following the other wondering what exactly she should feel. There was bits of her that were tugging at the worst feelings that she knew - sadness, anger, rage, guilt - but they seemed a little dulled going towards the morgue. That was until she heard who Regan thought the other might be. Jane. It was a shock that Lil tried to hide in her face. Jane Ballard was a demonologist - so there was always a chance she could die - but Lil didn’t actually think it was possible. She was so strong and full of life that Lil couldn’t picture her dead with anything less than the Devil after her. She wasn’t sure who she thought might be laying here, but she hadn’t expected it to be her. At the question though Lil was brought back to the other and said even headed, “Oh yeah Jonas is my twin. He’s not missing though.” 

At the statement Lil nodded trying to keep herself calm and collected. After all, if it was Jane she wouldn’t want Lil to cry. She didn’t think she’d want Lil to cry. Although little bits of thoughts kept moving through her brain that made Lil sink bit by bit. If Jane was here, it meant they never got to move past what Jane had did. It meant that Lil would never get her big sister back - her hand itched as she moved through the room reminding her that Jane wanted her to be strong and knowing that she was not like her. She moved through the room with her ears ringing at words that sounded an awful lot like her sister. Lil come on - No don’t do that - Lil Lady if you don’t get back here -. She could almost hear her laugh as she picked Lil up to twirl her, and felt her hands in Lil’s hair as she braided her hair - something that she missed terribly even if she couldn’t say it. 

Closing her eyes for a second Lil counted to three letting go of memories as she looked at the body, her face blank as she looked at the person carefully. She could tell why the doctor had matched Jane to them and if Lil didn’t know her sister as well as she did she might have thought it was Jane. She could have been Jane, although her hair was longer. Death changed faces, and Lil knew better than anyone that fact. Moving closer, not at all afraid of the dead, she looked closely for a moment thinking what might push the identification over the edge. Jane had a small blue bird - one that Matched Jude’s on her shoulder bone. They had gotten that as Jonas and Lil had gotten a little black bird on their hips. 

“Is it okay if I move the cloth further down on her shoulders?” Lil asked the doctor her face as neutral as she could make it as she looked back. “I - don’t think this is Jane, but if she is Jane she would have a little blue bird on her shoulder. I wasn’t sure if I would be allowed to move the cloth.” Lil said mostly in explanation. She had no problem touching the dead - but she figured there was probably protocol, and she wanted to be respectful.  

Impressed by Lil’s readiness, Regan waited in silence and allowed the woman’s emotions to run through her. She was strong. She felt intensely, Regan could tell, but she controlled it better than most. What kind of a tool was she? What instrument? Or had she simply seen death enough times that she could approach it with such grace now? “You can’t move anything. I will.” Though Regan spoke with a firm, commanding edge, Regan tried to be gentle too. Slowly, she lifted her hand and looked at Lil. Checking to see if she was ready. The rolled cloth revealed… nothing. No tattoo. Just to be sure, Regan checked the other shoulder, too, which yielded the same result. “It’s not Jane, then.” Regan said with some finality. She studied Lil, trying to see if there was relief or disappointment or both. These moments often evoked a strange mix of emotions in people, which Regan could understand but no longer relate to. 

“It’s good that we checked,” she assured Lil, “sometimes ruling out an identity can help tremendously with an investigation. Mine, and… yours.” She chewed her lip for a moment and decided to re-cover the decedent and slide them back into the freezer. The force of it made a loud whoosh that felt out of place in such a silent room. “We’re done down here, but I don’t think we’re done. I would still like to assist… if I can.” Regan discarded her gloves and held open the door for Lil. The walk back would allow for some questions. “What does this mean for you? Are you assuming Jane is still alive?” And the rest of them? She wanted to ask. But it was best to focus only on one. The emotional weight of losing a whole family, even the thought of it, was a lot to bear, and Regan knew it. “Where are you going next?”

Lil nodded as Regan moved to move the cloth, Lil’s eyes still focused on the person who had died. As she realized the tattoo wasn’t there Lil wondered what she should have felt. It should have been a relief that the person laid in front of her wasn’t Jane - she was. She was glad that her sister might be alive, but it was still a possibility not a certainty. Jane was maybe alive. She could be somewhere worse then here - and Lil couldn’t do anything about it. So she did what she knew best, what Jacob had taught her. She shut down the emotion, and tried to focus on what she could do. After all, if Jane was out there she needed Lil to find her and quickly. Still, instinctually she rubbed at the back of her hand on the scar there, wondering if she could be steady enough to do all of this. 

“No they aren’t Jane,” Lil finally said softly as she readied herself to figure out her next move, looking at the doctor who seemed to be assessing her carefully. She wondered what she looked like. Probably odd, but it was all Lil could do to not feel the edges of despair that seemed to follow after her. She could let it swallow her up - no one was weak for breaking down over something like this - but she had a brother that needed her to be the strong one. There were people that needed her, as broken as this was going to make her, to be strong and keep it together. Even if it hurts - especially when it hurts. A Ballard Persists, and Lil was going to walk to the end with her head high. 

At the doctors words Lil nodded and said, “I’m glad if it could help you identify the person.” It was true, Lil had a strong want to make sure that everyone who passed away was seen and their wishes done. Part of that was selfish - unhappy people became poltergeists so easily - but much of it was a sympathy that was earnest. As she listened to the whoosh Lil prepared herself to move back from the room - when the doctor continued to speak. It felt - kind. Like the other had seen more than Lil had wanted to show and wanted to help. It wasn’t the warmth that most people expected, but it felt honest. So as she started walking back through the morgue Lil thought about it honestly. 

“I don’t think I can assume she’s alive or dead,”Lil said with a certainty she probably hadn’t earned. After all, it wasn’t odd for either scenario to be right. “If she’s alive, she’s in a dangerous position and needs help. If she’d dead - I need to find her in either case.” Her voice caught at the idea still - part of her now rebelling now that she knew that Jane wasn’t in the morgue. The little hope in her that wanted to be twirled around by her big sister again and hear her laugh. The part that wanted to hear her say ‘I’m sorry’ and start over. Still, Lil held the idea for a moment and let it go quickly. 

“I’m - probably going to go tell my brother that they aren’t here. I didn’t want to tell him until after I checked. Then I’m going to continue looking. - There’s been some clues so I’ll probably look back over them. I know that there are people that aren’t happy with them, so I’m going to start looking at this as something intentional.” After all, with everything Lil had done it was clear that they weren’t messing because of a haunt gone wrong. She would have found them by now. She had to consider the possibility that someone or a group was targeting them, and that the people following Jonas and her were involved. Part of her had thought this anyway, but now she was resigned to the fact. 

 Lil looked at the doctor for a second and nodded, “I know you're probably worried I’ll do something stupid - I won’t. My family is my responsibility and I have to make sure that they are found. Either way. But - if I leave my number would you be willing to tell me if you find anything? I don’t want to bug you by constantly checking in. ” 

This was one of those times where it was hard to discern defeat from relief, and Regan knew she couldn’t say anything to make it easier for Lil to distinguish between the two. She would need to sit with it. Probably every day, every night, until she found her answers. She was clearly driven, and though Regan rarely hoped for much of anything, not believing in the concept, she did want Lil to be able to receive closure. 

Regan slowed to a stop and turned to Lil in the hall. “I think it’s commendable you’re taking responsibility for your family. Trying to find them. Find answers.” She thought of Reilly, who hadn’t given up after six years, even though he really should have. If Lil was half as dogged as Regan’s brother, she would have success eventually. Regan believed that. She gave a nod and continued, but paused again right by the doors to the lobby. Once they pushed through them, they’d be in the presence of others – Marcy, and maybe some next of kin or other ME’s office employees buzzing around. There was some quick business to attend before that.

She met Lil’s eyes, which swam with thick emotion – Regan could identify it no more than Lil herself probably could. “Yes. You should leave your number. Look, I…” Regan started, already regretting it. She let the silence linger just as her thoughts were. But it felt right. “I won’t explain my methodology. It doesn’t matter. But I want to, um, offer something, of sorts. Because you don’t know whether they’re alive or dead.” Reilly told her, several times, that the uncertainty was the worst part. Not knowing if he’d lost his sister along with his father. Now that she was back, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had. “I might be able to help. If you have a belonging of one of theirs. Something especially important to them. I might be able to determine whether or not they’re deceased.” Or, by process of elimination, alive. 

Regan gave a small bow of her head and stepped away from the doors, motioning toward them. “When you’re ready, you can head out. I’m sure you have much to think about.”

Lil hadn’t expected that the other would be - proud of her for doing what was right. In her own mind it was the only thing she could do. Still, she couldn’t deny that it felt nice for someone agreeing with her and as she met the doctor's eyes she wondered if she had experienced something similar. Lil didn’t have a supernatural sense about these things, but she was around people usually on one of the worst days of their lives. It carried with you tragedy, and while Lil tried to make exorcism less depressing it was always something there. Still, she didn’t ask about it. Tragedies were personal, and she didn’t want to push kindness down a road that made the other miserable. “Glad you agree,” Lil said carefully, not wanting to thank Regan in so many terms but wanting to be grateful nonetheless. 

At how she continued Lil was confused with what she was saying, not knowing what she meant but listening carefully. After all, it wasn’t like anything else was really working out. Jude’s notebook was getting close to the end and while Lil would still try any leads she found she knew it was getting bleak. Even if she didn’t understand what help was or how, she did believe that Regan could help and that was enough.  “I - understand. That would be helpful at least to know. I would have to find something that was one of theirs -” Lil said, thinking of which person in her family she might be able to find something that was close enough to them that it would connect them. It wouldn’t be her dad. The only thing he’d ever connected himself to was his focal point and he was a pain about that. He thought it was a weakness to be exploited - after all objects could get you attached here. She also wasn’t sure about Jude or Jane either, both so different in personalities but so practical. 

Still, Lil paused for a moment and thought about her Mom. Her sentimental mom who always seemed to keep little things that made them smile. Surely if one of them was attached to an object it would be her. “I think I know something, but I’d have to find it. I would also have to tell my brother about it. I appreciate it.” It wasn’t hope exactly, it didn’t feel like something so fragile or beautiful. Instead it felt something more like a resignation to Fate - something closer to relief than panic. Her mom had been the source of feelings like that before, and maybe she could be again. 

At her instructions Lil nodded, her mind full of new ideas and a new path. Even if she still had to look at other potentialities  - this one seemed more concrete. Maybe going to the morgue wasn’t that bad. With a slightly forced smile she said, “I hope the rest of your shift is easy. I appreciate the help.”

[hangmanapologist]

GOOOOOD MORNINGGGG MY WIFEEEEEE!!! 💐💐💐

how are you?? did you sleep well?? tell me all!! i’m all ears!!! ilysm!!! 💖🫶🏼💞💝

i also have a proposition. would we ever consider a harrison, rhett and bob sandwich??? like who’s taking charge? who’s calling the orders? who’s being a pleasure dom? much to think about. much. <33

GOOD MORNING MY LOVE HOW ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU SLEEP <3 💐💐💐💐

I’m doing good!! It’s finally Friday so I cannot wait to go home and be a hermit all weekend because it’s meant to be very stormy here! Work isn’t too bad today

ALSO WOW WOW TRIPLE HOMICIDE

It’s definitely Rhett who would take charge, idc he is a brat tamer and I stand by it!

I think Bob would be the pleasure dom (hello praise kink)

And LISTEN I love him very much but I feel like Harri more vanilla (also he is bi in my mind and that will not change) so I feel like he’d be super into the watching aspect at the start

Like just watching you get wrecked before they (mostly bob) tell him to join in UGH

No because being towered over by all 3 of them? Lord…..

[thistransient]

Canadian Friend (my only good friend in Taipei rn) has been trying to convince me to rent a room in the building he’ll be moving into (when he gets out of covid home-quarantine, anyways- I dodged a bullet by being too tired to go along to the event where he got it last weekend). I finally went to have a look yesterday, mainly because the Terrible Snoring Man in my hostel dorm came back after a weekend absence. The manager showing the place first tried to interest me in a ground floor room that opened directly to the street, but didn’t do a great job as his first words regarding it were “你怕老鼠嗎?” (‘Are you afraid of [mice/rats]?’ Hard to distinguish because the word is the same for both in Chinese, so I asked if he meant little ones (mice) or big ones (rats) and he was like oh, all of them!)

Anyways this place is back up north in Shilin District, so a 30-45 min commute depending on mode of transport and traffic. I feel conflicted. Pros: living near a friend, which means meeting my socialisation and food quotas. The place is pretty basic, I probably wouldn’t be tempted to lay around in there more than necessary. The landlord is willing to do a half-year lease. Cons: I had initially been willing to commute to school if it meant more affordable and nicer housing, but in this case it’s both far away AND not super nice? I really like being able to walk out the door at 8:20, buy a drink at 7-11, snarf down a breakfast sandwich from a roadside stand en route to school, and be in my seat by 8:35 for an 8:40 start. I’m also concerned about either going into hermit-mode after class or conversely, some light social drinking becoming the road to back to ruin (I got some kind of fruity 3% Japanese soda last time at the night market which doesn’t exactly portend disaster but it’s a slippery slope hey).

 I feel hypocritical for settling when I said I was going to get a nice proper apartment this time in Taiwan, and being afraid to commit to anything because I still don’t have a solid plan for the end of the study term I’ve paid for (find a job? keep studying Chinese? university? something else?). I had grand dreams to spend this time making connections, working on my art and living it up, but in the end I’m just tired. Intensive class is intense. How did I manage to forget that it was like this last time too?? I come home and need to take a nap for 2-3 hours, then just Lay There for a while. Suddenly it’s time for dinner (if I can even decide what to eat) and homework and then my alarm to take a shower goes off and what the heck, it’s bedtime already? I mysteriously and consistently wake up at 04:00 now. Last night I had a dream that I was back in Thailand, waiting for a flight to some other destination when I looked at the dream people around me and said “Hey, there’s NO way I’d leave Taiwan while the borders are still closed and I’d have to quarantine again going back in. This is a DREAM I tell you, a DREAM! Where am I really??!” and in a great psychic struggle, my outrage finally resulted in waking up in bed, feeling very vindicated. No, it wasn’t the mutant pet baboons who could speak English that seemed unrealistic and out-of-place to my brain, but being on the wrong side of a closed border does it every time. 

[anhonest-account]

June 6th, 2022:

I am starting my first day of work today. My background check did finally go through, and I am all set up with everything I need to start. I am working from my aunt’s house, and will be staying with her for the next few weeks. Yesterday I signed the lease for my new place, and I’ll move in on July 1st. It doesn’t feel real.

I’m nervous about this job, a little bit. Everything feels very impersonal and corporate. I haven’t been able to really get through to anyone regarding my start up passwords. They also made a mistake and sent my company laptop and setup to my mom’s house instead of my aunt’s. Fortunately I was already in the area and fortunately my mom wasn’t home when I went to pick it up. It was already weird and sad enough going to the house, I am glad I didn’t need to see her in person.

While I was there I grabbed some things. She had told me she was thinking of throwing some things away and that I should pick them up if I don’t want them to be trashed, but she didn’t tell me what exactly she was talking about. I just grabbed anything I thought she wouldn’t want to keep. Mostly memorabilia from my childhood, as well as my dad’s books and drafting tools. The books are all about aikido and martial philosophy, she wouldn’t want to keep them and definitely would never read them in a million years. So I took these back.

Being there was sad. Things looked different, and she has someone living in the room I stayed in. The doorknobs have all been changed out. Is it a friend? A renter? I don’t even want to know. After leaving I felt like crying, and I spent the next few hours trying to ignore it, but eventually I cracked. My boy(friend?) understood, as he’s been there to witness the ship sinking. We cuddled a little bit, played a game together, and had a calm night in. It was my last night before I had to move myself to my aunt’s and start everything for real.

I did have a great last week of unemployment. I planned some fun things, and although I couldn’t find my bathing suit (somewhere deeeep in my storage unit) I managed most of the things on the list. I went to stay with the boy and the two of us got sushi, went to an escape room I’ve been meaning to try, got bubble tea, moseyed around a Target (mostly for me) went to a sports bar to watch a basketball game (mostly for him). We had a wonderful picnic with a homemade caprese sandwich on a baguette, strawberries, champagne (for him) and sparkling grape (for me). We sat on that blanket at the park and read Whitman’s poetry to each other like the ridiculous cheesy nerds we are. We went on a beach walk at sunset and saw a pod of dolphins teaching their babies to breach. We had a bonfire with smores. I also went to my old place of work and chatted with everyone there, giving them some updates. I didn’t want people to think I just disappeared one day, so I wanted them to know I was doing okay. They are all such wonderful people. I wish I could take them, and the shop, with me when I move. They were glad to hear I’m doing well. I told them I’d be back with some money to finally buy some home goods for my actual home! And after that I continued to wander around the town and enjoy my time alone.

It was a shame that no friends could join me, but I had the boy, and I wasn’t lonely. It seems that if they aren’t busy working, they are hermits, staying inside their houses. Truly, there are four friends I have who rarely leave their homes and can barely be reached. One of my best friends, while she used to be a social butterfly who was always partying, has become (post-Covid) a total shut-in. I was meant to hang out with her one of the days I was down last week, and she cancelled yet again. Hopefully in the city I can meet some nice friends who are actually available to socialize at times. That’s the plan. It’s tough making friends as an adult, that’s true. But I feel like if I put myself in the position to make them, I feel like I might be able to. I’m going to do activities after work, like classes and book clubs, and hope it works out.

Anyway the fun times are over now. I’m anxiously awaiting a call or email with my login passwords for the orientation later today. They are really cutting it close. Staying here with my aunt will be good for the time being, since she can help answer my questions if I have then. She has been doing this job for a while now, whereas I barely know a thing about it. I’m looking forward to moving out into my own place but I have to be patient.

I think I may try to find a very long fanfic to bury my head in for the next few weeks. Like one of those 80+ chapter deals. Something like that, which I can get totally invested in and make time pass more quickly. I want this time to pass by like nothing, because I don’t exactly love being here. I am honestly very sick at heart, with my constant mooching. I am done with taking up space in other people’s houses. I don’t want to be a guest anymore. I just want to be living alone already.

I’ve been feeling more confident lately, because of my good week and how everything is mostly sorted out for the near future. I’m hoping my confidence will continue to improve. We will see.

Next on the docket: getting used to working from (someone else’s) home, planning on how to spend my first paycheck, planning out my apartment and figuring out what I’ll need. Next weekend I’ll be picking my cat up from my best friend’s house, and helping her move out. And the rest of the month, I’ll be whiling away while waiting for my move-in date. See you next time.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Among Us idea: Because I'm a little bit obsessed with game mechanics and glitches in fic...how about a round where one of the Hermits gets left behind? The game ends, and everyone but them is transported to the lobby, but they're just left on an empty ship flying eternally to some destination it will never reach... All the tasks are done. There's nothing left to do. So why is the game still keeping them there? And how do they escape? (It could also be two people left, if writing just one alone would be boring. Your choice who!)

SKSKSKSKSK HOW DO YOU DO THIS I’VE BEEN PLANNING OUT AN IDEA IN MY HEAD FOR THE LAST FEW DAYS IN WHICH TWO PLAYERS ACCIDENTALLY GET LEFT BEHIND HOW DO YOU KEEP READING MY MIND (/lh)

also i had a kind of idea to expand the concept a little bit and i hope that’s okay :)

also also i too love the ideas that utilise glitches or kinda ignore game mechanics; they're always so interesting to write! :D

…

Having finished his tasks a long time ago and not being teleported to any meetings lately, Skizz wanders around the whole ship, trying to find a friend. A buddy. Or literally anyone. But the ship seems deserted.

Finally, Skizz wanders into admin and checks the special table.

To his shock, he finds only two yellow faces on the screen: one in admin and one in cafeteria. So he rushes into the cafeteria and literally bumps into someone coming the other way.

“Oh my gosh, FINALLY,” Impulse breathes. “Where IS everyone?”

Skizz glances away, unable to meet his best friend’s gaze. “We have a problem.”

Impulse frowns. “What?” he asks warily.

“Um…” Skizz rubs the back of his neck. “So… it seems we’re the only two people on the ship.”

It takes a moment for Impulse’s brain to process what his friend just said. “...what?”

“I looked around the whole ship and then went to the admin table. There were only two yellow dots: me and you. There’s literally nobody else anywhere on the ship, dude.”

“But… I…” Impulse blinks. “How is that possible? Did the game end and leave us behind, somehow?”

“I feel like that’s the only possible explanation, but at the same time, it makes no sense.”

“Well, if this IS what happened, it’s gotta be a glitch, right?” says Impulse.

Skizz nods. “Gotta be. But now the question is… how do we get outta here?”

Impulse gazes around the room. “The game always automatically puts us back in the lobby when we’re done, so… I don’t think there’s a way of manually doing it.”

Skizz stares back at him with wide eyes. “You mean we’re stuck in THIS particular ship forever?!”

“W-Well, hopefully not FOREVER,” Impulse responds nervously. “I’m sure they’ll have realised we’re missing by now and they’ll be trying to get us back.”

“But what if they can’t?!” Skizz yelps. “We’ll be trapped in this purgatory forever!”

“Not helping, Skizz,” snaps Impulse. “We’ll be totally fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, like I can have ANY faith in your words anymore,” mutters Skizz, turning away.

Impulse glances sharply at him, sensing that his best friend’s words aren’t about Among Us. Not entirely. “What do you mean?”

Skizz just rolls his eyes and walks off.

Impulse watches him go. Looks like Skizz hasn’t been so quick to forgive and forget after all. Now the way Skizz was acting around him earlier makes sense.

After making a quick trip around the ship, Impulse discovers Skizz sitting leaning against the wall in admin, tossing a stack of ID cards at the wall one at a time.

“Still no way off,” Impulse reports. “Looks like we’re stuck here until they rescue us. Flying through space. On a ship heading to nowhere. An endless journey. With nothing except-.”

“Yes, okay, I get it!” Skizz snaps at him.

After a moment, Impulse leans against the admin table. “Skizz, you’ve been acting weird around me all night. I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“C’mon. We’re stuck here on a ship on our own for the foreseeable future. There’s no better time to talk than now.”

“Okay!” snaps Skizz unexpectedly, jumping to his feet. “FINE! You wanna talk?! I don’t care! You did a LOT of talking back there on 3rd Life and not a word of it was true!”

Impulse frowns. “Is that what this is about?”

Skizz’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “WH- WHAT DO YOU MEAN “is that what this is about”?! You say that like I’m mad at you for stealing my sandwich! Impulse, you LIED to me, BETRAYED me, and then watched Grian KILL me! You told me over and over again that you were on my side and you were loyal to us but you planned to betray us from the start! Y-You planned to betray ME. Do you-” He breaks off with a bitter laugh. “You know what, I was gonna say “do you have any idea how much that hurts?” but you DO, don’t you? Because your own ally turned on you. And murdered you. And you know what? YOU DESERVED IT!”

Impulse can only stare at his best friend with an expression of guilt and sadness.

“I wanted you to go far, dude! I wanted you to win at one point!” Skizz’s voice cracks. “I thought you were the best of us but it turns out you were nothing but a dirty liar and a traitor! I thought “oh, his strategy of playing all sides is pretty smart, actually, but he’s gonna have to pick a side at some point” but I didn’t realise that meant pretending to pick a side and then STABBING THEM IN THE BACK! Of all the- the jerky things to do! You pick the worst one! I-I just don’t understand how you could do that to someone you’ve been a brother to for A QUARTER OF A CENTURY! GOD, you SO deserved to die and the biggest regret of my life is that I didn’t get imposter tonight so I could stab you in the FACE!”

Skizz finally stops talking, breathing heavily. He takes in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Wow… I did not expect to yell that much…”

“I…” Impulse searches for something to say. But he can’t find anything. “I don’t…”

“You don’t have to say anything, Impulse.” Skizz gives a weak smile. “I-I think I just needed to… to let my feelings out.”

“You just needed to yell at me, huh? I get that.”

“Haha, yeah. Remember that time I snuck onto Hermitcraft and did a bunch of reckless things and then died, and you didn’t know if I was gonna respawn or not?”

Impulse nods, a small smile appearing on his face. “That’s what I was indirectly referring to. I think my throat hurt from yelling at you for, like, two weeks after that.”

“Are we even now, then?” asks Skizz.

“Well, I mean… Probably not. I still have a lot to make up for.”

Skizz shakes his head. “No, it… it’s okay. We all did things in that place that we’re not proud of.”

“Even the great Skizzleman?” teases Impulse weakly.

“Oh heck yeah. I still have nightmares about how I violently murdered two of my friends and how bloodthirsty I felt for so long. It freaks me out that I got to that point, man. Even in Among Us when I murder people, even you, I never got THAT bad.”

“Yeah, 3rd Life was…” Again, Impulse searches for the right word. “...an experience. In more ways than one.”

“It really was,” Skizz murmurs, letting out a long breath. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let it affect Among Us so much.”

“No, it’s okay. And we can-.”

Impulse breaks off Skizz suddenly disappears in front of him. Blinking, he just has time to take a step forward before the admin room vanishes and he finds himself back in the lobby.

With eight people staring at him.

“Oh my gosh, finally!” Tango gasps, grabbing both Impulse and Skizz in a hug. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine, dude,” laughs Skizz quietly. “We just yelled at each other a bit, that’s all.”

Impulse chuckles. “Well, it was mostly Skizz doing the yelling.”

“Yeah, true. How did you guys even manage to get us out?”

“The insane genius that is Etho hacked into the code and managed to force the round to end again,” Tango responds. “Somehow. I dunno how. Took us a while to figure out what’d happened, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen that glitch before,” Etho chimes in. “There was six left, Grian and Ren double-killed me and Pungence to win, and that should’ve been it. The rest of us respawned in the lobby but we realised you two were missing.”

“Whoa, that’s so weird.” Skizz exchanges a look with Impulse. “Cuz for us, it was like the round just hadn’t ended.”

“Yeah, we’d both done all our tasks and we had no idea anything had happened.”

“What did you guys do?”

Impulse and Skizz shoot each other another look, silently making a mutual decision. “Just talked a bit and tried to look for a way out,” Impulse replies. “That’s all.”

Tango frowns, clearly picking up on the slight tension between them, but he doesn’t mention it. “Okay. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah.”

Skizz thinks back to the way he’d exploded at Impulse, and the way Impulse had looked at him with fear in his eyes. All the fury, the despair, the hurt… It had all spilled out at once. Skizz never wants to feel that way again.

“Let’s hope not.”

[dcforts]

[something more]

ao3.

Dean never wants to go to hunter gatherings.

First, because they don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to meeting other hunters, and second, because whenever they go there's always people looking at them like they’re freaks. He knows they tell all sorts of stories about them and some are hard, ugly truths that Dean would rather stop thinking about for the rest of his life.

But he's got a text from Carol while he was about to get in the car after wrapping up a case, and Sam asked who it was, so it had become a Thing to discuss.

And Dean’s main argument was “Why would we go?”, but Sam’s was “Why not?”, which was objectively stronger. And it got worse because from the backseat Jack kept interjecting with, “Go where?” and, “Who are these people?” until Sam paid attention to him and explained that hunters meet up sometimes to “get a drink, exchange stories”, and that had made him light up like a Christmas tree because Jack loved stories and the idea of expanding his pool of knowledge on hunting and creatures appealed to him greatly.

So the fact that Dean had tried to point out that, “This is stupid. We are hunters, not a book club,” had sorted no effect whatsoever. No, instead, Jack had said, “That sounds nice. We should go,” and when Dean had met Cas’ eyes in the rear view mirror, all he had offered was a shrug.

Typical.

It’s not that Dean wants to be a hermit or something, but he always feels like he needs to be wary of who’s gonna be at these sorts of things because some may treat them like Hollywood stars, but some may want to shoot them on sight. Anyone could come up to them and call them out for starting the end of the world, letting monsters out of Hell and Purgatory, cosmic beings out of their cages, getting their family killed, destroying their lives.

And there’s also this: are they really ready for Jack’s debut in society? Sam thinks they are. He thinks it’s a great opportunity to show that the community doesn’t have anything to worry about. He’s with them now and he’s not going anywhere so they should get used to that. Cas says he’ll be there to intervene in case things go south and Dean’s mind flashes with Carol’s house burning to the ground after Cas’ has gone all mama swan on the hunters. He meets Sam’s eyes briefly and it looks like he had the exact same images playing in front of his eyes, “I’m sure it won’t be necessary," he adds quickly.

So Sam wanted to go and Jack wanted to go and Cas didn’t seem to be able to say no to the kid even if he tried, so Dean had to bite his cheek and wake up early the next morning to drive across the state.

At least it’s a nice day, at least it stopped raining and the sun is breaking in from the clouds; the chilly air that comes in from the window that Cas is in the habit of keeping rolled all the way down brings in the pleasant smell of wet leaves.

Dean feels his knees bumping on the back of his seat from time to time and looks at him in the rear view mirror and Cas sometimes catches his eyes and sometimes he doesn’t.

At least they are spending time together. It’s rare for Cas to stay around after a hunt these days. He doesn’t need the down time they require, or so he says. He gets bored in the bunker, starts climbing the walls the second the door closes behind them. He gets restless, and then there’s Heaven and always bigger things to deal with, and Dean imagines that that beats staying behind to play foosball with him and Jack.

Going on hunts with Cas is always fun, but it’s also a run against time and there’s death and guns and fear involved, even when it’s an easy-peasy salt-and-burn. And it’s the four of them crammed in a motel room, so they don’t get much time to be alone. And Dean likes when they are all together, but likes it more when Sam and Jack disappear in the maze of the bunker and he gets to have his best friend all for himself.

That is why Dean had been pleased when Cas had expressed his intention of staying with them for a couple more days. In that moment Dean had been busy keeping his lunch in his stomach - he’d just found the shredded skin of a shapeshifter in a freaking kitchen drawer - but he’d heard him loud and clear all the same.

They were moving about in the victim’s house looking for clues and talking about other stuff, when Cas had said something along the lines of, “I could work on it once we go back to the bunker,” and Dean had asked, half distracted, “So you’re going back with us?” and Cas had his back turned and Dean had opened the drawer in that moment, but he'd heard him when he’d said:

“I guess.”

It was barely a whisper but it meant yes, that’s all that mattered. And it also meant, from Dean’s perspective, a really nice weekend, that included, not in order of importance: his hot dog pants, driving around with the music up, Dean’s cave and Cas.

So, yeah, if Dean was completely honest with himself – something that he generally tried to avoid – it’s not like he wanted to waste a whole day of that to go spend it with a bunch of strangers.

But it doesn’t matter now, because they’ve piled up in the Impala and driven to Carol’s.

Dean likes her. She spent half her life working at a bank, but after crossing path with a djinn she hanged her suit, moved out of the city and created a safe place for hunters, soon becoming a beacon in the community in Kansas. Her door is always open, as she said that one time they met her on a case. Dean likes her for no-nonsense ways, her honest looks and, not less importantly, her amazing sandwiches.

Carol fusses over him and Sam in the hall, scolds them for taking so long to visit when they live in the same state, then Sam makes the introductions, and it’s only his shifting a little from side to side that betrays his nervousness.

Her eyes focus on Cas and her expression speaks of wonder and surprise.

“The angel Castiel,” she calls him and he nods, “a long way from Heaven.”

“The weather here is nicer,” he says, and Dean snorts softly next to him.

Jack wins her over immediately with his wide smile and polite hand shake, “I look forward to exchanging stories,” he says and she huffs a laugh and says:

“Sure, Jack. We heard a lot about you. I bet everyone will be eager to talk to you.”

On the other side of Cas, Sam gets more fidgety; he says, “If you think uh – we don’t want any trouble.”

But she shakes her head and gestures dismissively. “Nonsense. No one will start trouble if they don't wanna see the end of my rifle. A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” she reassures him. “Plus, Eileen vouched for him.”

“Sh-she is here already?” Sam almost chokes up and all of the sudden he seems to have grown a few inches taller.

Dean understands now. He pieces together his insistence in coming to this thing, his bouncing knee throughout their journey, the way he checked his phone more or less forty-five times. He feels slightly less bad about having caved in. There are a lot of things that Dean would give up for Sam, and things that he would conjure out of thin air just for him to have, if he could. But there’s so much he can’t give him and he wants Sam to just get out and take, have and enjoy. So if he wanted to come here just to meet Eileen again, Dean’s happy to be complicit.

Sam is the first to disappear in the packed living room, with Jack following right behind, but Dean grabs Castiel’s elbow before he can take another step. He circles him to block him from the entrance and says, “Hey, stick with me, alright? Last time I was at one of these things this guy Norman talked about his knife collection for three hours.”

“But, Jack…”

“He’s with Sam, he’s gonna be fine,” says Dean, dismissing. He grins, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some people; don’t you wanna make friends?”

Cas makes a face but doesn't say anything else. Apparently Jack is not the only one who he seems unable to refuse something to and that makes Dean feel good. He trails after him around the room as Dean stops to say hello from familiar face to familiar face.

There’s Max and Alicia, sprawled on a couch, nursing the worst hangover Dean’s seen in a long time. They say they're happy to see him, but then they eye Cas up and down and Max says something along the lines of, “Oh, I see now why you keep him hidden from us," and that prompts Dean to quickly move along.

Then they bump into this old man who claims to have been one of the patrons of the Roadhouse. Dean has no idea who he is, but he swears he remembers him from when he was a boy - of course he remembers, and hey, if he needs anything, did he know that he was retired but still kept an eye out for monster sightings, and did he hear of that one time he and Bill Harvelle -

Dean tries to nod and smile appropriately for the whole time and when they finally manage to escape him, Cas leads him to an empty corner where they can take refuge.

"I didn't think there would be this many people," Cas says, surveying the room clearly looking for Jack.

Dean elbows him and points at where the kid is talking animatedly to two young hunters he's never seen, "What is he even talking about?"

"Our last case."

"Wh-? Oh, right, I always forget you have the superhearing," then he has a thought and adds, "Hey, you gonna tell me if you hear someone talking shit about me, right?"

Cas' eyebrows raise in thinly veiled amusement and that's all the answer Dean needs, "What? Who?" he asks, outraged.

But Cas doesn't have time to answer before they get interrupted and soon surrounded by hunters Dean's seen on the road, worked with, heard about. Some share their epic tales of escapes from impossible dangers, some are curious and some are brave and blunt and they ask Cas questions and address him without fear and Cas is polite and just a tiny bit awkward.

It gets a little chilly when this guy with too many beers in starts bragging about how he knows all about angels' weaks spots. Cas' face stays as stony as it gets for the whole time but then he says “I suggest you check your sources,” with a deep voice that runs a shiver down Dean’s spine, and he’s not even the one who’s directing his intense gaze at.

There are so many different people that Cas doesn't stick out like a sore thumb, and Dean finds himself thinking that if they were just two regular hunters in a crowd and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.

He almost sighs of relief when he eyes Eileen on the other side of the room and steers Cas towards her.

"I can't believe I still haven't had a single beer," he mutters as they elbow their way through the crowd. Sam hovers around her with a timid smile plastered on his face that doesn’t seem to take any breaks.

Dean hugs her and tries not to follow Cas’ movement with the corner of his eyes when he senses him stepping away from his side.

Eileen calls his attention back. She makes fun of him saying, “Sam told me you didn’t want to come. Getting too old to leave the house?”

“Very funny,” Dean says.

“Next time we can organize something at the bunker. There’s so much space," she says, smirking.

Dean thinks 'Yeah, no way' and says, “Yeah, no way,” and she laughs.

“But you,” Dean adds, “you can come stay with us. Anytime. For as long as you want. We would love to have you. Me, Sam,” he says wiggling his eyebrows in a way that has his brother close his eyes in embarrassment, “you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you,” she signs, blushing a little, “I’ll try to come by.”

Dean is glad to know that. She has opened a door in Sam’s life that he probably thought closed forever and Dean will always be grateful to her for that. Also, she is a badass and totally out of his brother’s dorky league.

Cas comes standing by his side again and Dean feels a gentle touch on the small of his back. It's intimate and unexpected so he steps away immediatly almost on instict and Cas' drops his hand. He meets his gaze and they frown at each other for a second. Cas seems about to say something, but then goes back to sporting his usual face, “I think I saw Claire. I’m going to find her.”

So Dean, with that spot on his lower back still tingling, follows him out of the room and into another where there’s only a few scattered hunters and Jack, happily squeezed on a couch with his new friends, his mouth hanging open as he hears a story from this guy named Ronnie that Dean knows for a fact only talks shit. The kid seems to be having fun though, he waves at them as move along.

They find Claire in the empty white kitchen, and catch her right when she’s about to open herself a beer. Her eyes widen in panic but she doesn’t manage to hide the bottle behind her back fast enough.

“Hey guys,” she says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Dean stretches out a hand without a word and she drops the act, sighs and hands it over. Before she can say anything else, Cas steps between them, "Claire, it's nice to see you," he says and she lets him squeeze her into a hug.

Pressed against his shoulder, Dean sees her face change expression, her body slightly relax in his arms. She pats him on the back and says: “Good to see you too, Cas.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just passing through,” she replies, putting on airs, “Finished up a job a few miles north. I thought I’d drop by Carol’s before moving on.”

She flips a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder and Dean scoffs.

“So you are in Kansas, and you don’t call, and you drop by Carol’s? Were you even planning on stopping by the bunker?”

She rolls her eyes at him, “I go where the job takes me, Dean. I don’t make plans.”

Dean rolls his eyes in the exact same way, “Right. Well, you know it wouldn’t kill you to stay with us for a while. We could get you a bit of training.”

She groans as if she's heard that same speech about a thousand times, but Cas cuts off whatever she was going to retort with and says, “We weren’t planning on coming either. Sam and Jack are here too.”

“Jack’s here?” she lights up. She says she's heard all sorts of things about him and she can’t wait to meet the kid and of course she’s gonna go easy on him, it’s not like she’s gonna eat him, Jesus, Dean, protective much?

Dean frowns at her but she’s already halfway out of the room. “I can be his big sister. I mean, he should have someone he can talk to. Living with you three must be – a lot.”

“Hey,” protests Dean, but she just laughs and disappears down the hallway.

Dean shakes his head and leans against one of the kitchen counters. Cas does the same against the opposite island. At the end of the narrow passage between the furniture there’s a glass door that gives into the patio and a small garden beyond it.

The door is ajar and fresh air comes in; Cas gets engrossed in watching the pattern the raindrops formed on the glass and Dean gets engrossed in watching Cas. He seems lost in thought and Dean would like to say something but doesn’t want to be annoying. Not today, not when tomorrow he could be gone.

He’ll take this quiet moment instead.

“She’ll be a bad influence on Jack,” he breaks the silence, and that gets him an amused quirk of lips, “But it really would be nice to have her around more often.”

Curiously that has Cas' take his eyes away from the glass and lay his gaze on him. He has his lips pressed in a small smile.

“What?”

“You want people you love around you.”

Dean frowns, “What about it?” he asks, and it comes out sharp and defensive.

Cas shakes his head a little, but there’s a shadow on his face that confuses him: “Nothing, I only meant -" but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because a group of hunters enters the kitchen talking loudly and soon Dean has his vision blocked by half a dozen bodies and he has to press himself against the cabinets to let them through, towards the garden door.

One guy in a baseball cap stops in his track as he sees Dean.

He asks with his eyes wide and stunned expression if he is Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester and Dean is glad that the rest of the group is already out of earshot because he wasn’t in the mood for a meet and greet session. But the guy starts talking about some hunter named Troy, who he has supposedly hunted with a couple of years back. And Dean’s not in a habit of calling people liars but he's pretty sure he'd remember if he had wiped out a nest of fangs with this guy and allegedly taken down five all on his own and went and get steaks and beer afterwards.

He tries to shoot him down gently and say, “Maybe your friend had me confused with someone else,” but the guy’s face falls and tells him Troy has recently passed on the job and this was his favourite story to tell, and he would always tell it, all proud and all.

Dean pats him on a shoulder then.

“You know what, we shouldn’t ruin it for him now, should we? Troy, you say? Of course I remember him,” he says and throws in a wink. The guy beams at him and thanks him and gets a little chocked up because Troy might have been a liar but he swears he was one of the good ones.

The guy invites him to join his friends for a drink but Dean raises his half-empty bottle and says “I’m fine, thanks.”

When the guy walks away, Cas moves to lean on the counter by his side. Dean feels the familiar weight of his arm against his and he wonders if they could pick up the conversation where they left it. But Cas says:

“That was nice of you.”

Dean shrugs looking down at their shoes lined up and for some reason he thinks it’s a funny sight. If they were just two shoe wearing creatures standing side by side and nothing more, perhaps some things would be easier.

“Doesn't really change my life. And it's a good story,” he huffs a laugh, it comes out bitter, “Better than some of the true ones anyway.”

“I understand what you mean,” says Cas with a sigh and Dean extends his arm to offer him his beer, and even though Cas usually refuses, this time he takes it.

Dean does his best not to follow his hand bringing the bottle to his lips. And he does his best, later, not to wonder if the wetness touching his lips when he drinks is just beer or something else.

If they were just two drinking creatures, sharing a bottle of beer and nothing more, perhaps everything would be easier.

Soon the bottle is empty and Cas says, “I’ll get you another one,” but Dean refuses.

It’s nice there - someone's turned the music on in the other room, but here it's muffled by the walls, and the light is just right to make Cas’ eyes look like sapphires. They don’t need to move.

But then the group of hunters out in the patio erupts in laughter and Cas’ gaze shifts on them and then lingers on the glass door.

Dean feels him slipping from him once again. He sighs, “You wanna go out, check the garden?”

Cas nods and heads out and Dean can’t do anything but follow, past the hunters and the patio. They walk the perimeter of the small square of grass, wet and glistening with old rain. The sun and the clouds draw patches of light on the ground and they move from dark to light to dark again in an irregular rhythm, chasing the warmth of the sunlight and the relief of the shade. Dean feels uncomfortable in both, but there’s no middle line he can walk on.

“Sorry we dragged you here,” he finds himself saying, “You never stick around, and for once that you do, that’s what you get.”

Cas frowns slightly at him, “I stick around,” he protests.

Dean laughs, “You don’t,” he says and although he tries to reign it in with the bitterness, it stills seeps out. Cas’ gaze prompts him to explain himself, “Come on, the minute we’re done with a case you are out of here. I don’t blame you,” he quickly adds cutting off whatever Cas was opening his mouth to say. “I know you don’t like sitting around. Believe me, no one understands that more than I do.”

A long beat passes and then Cas says, “I’m sorry, I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want to spend time with you.”

Dean stops in his tracks and Cas stops with him to face him.

Dean shakes his head, “Cas, you don’t have to apologize to me. This is not about me. And I said, I get it,” he shrugs.

Cas doesn’t look at all convinced and Dean doesn’t feel at all convinced either. He knows this is not about his feelings. It’s more like a general way of how things are. It’s a truth, a fact. Sam would say the same.

Sam would. Standing here in the garden with him, Sam would tell him the very same things and wish for the very same things. He’s sure he would. He's not accusing Cas of anything. On the contrary, he’s showing him understanding.

“It’s all the same for me, I swear. I don't care,” he adds, but saying that hurts a little, for some reason he can’t quite determine, and he finds his own frown mirrored on Cas’ face.

“Alright,” he says, sounding profoundly sad and again the same shadow passes on his face.

This is all wrong. What did he do?

“Look, I don’t get what you want me to say. If you wanted to - ” he exhales, angrily, “Just - forget it, let’s go back inside,” he says but as he tries to walk away Cas stops him by his elbow.

“You could ask me.”

He looks unsure, troubled, as if he is not quite certain this is a good idea. Dean breathes out a confused, “What?” that he himself can barely hear.

Cas squares his shoulders, “To stay. You could ask me,” he sounds accusing, and he takes a step forward. His eyes are firm in Dean’s and with his elbow still in his grip, he feels like a hummingbird flapping his wings in the paw of a dragon, “You ask everybody else.”

Dean’s heart starts pounding. He tries to swallow but his mouth is too dry.

“I don’t wanna ask you, Cas,” he says, cutting, yanking his arm free of his hold, and it sounds bad, bad, bad to his ears and he can read hurt all over Cas’ face. He needs to explain himself. He takes a breath, says a lame, “I mean, if you don't -”

And then, Dean suddenly understands.

Cas thinks he doesn’t -

He thinks he doesn’t care if he’s around and doesn’t ask because he doesn’t need him.

Dean feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest. He’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for this. He fights the need to look down. He doesn’t know why this is so hard for him. It’s just Cas. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s Cas. It would hurt ten times more if he were to say no. It’s nothing like with Claire, he asked her for her; it’s nothing like with Eileen, he asked her for Sam. But if he asked Cas, he would be asking for himself, wouldn’t he?

Seeing him walk away anyway would be too much then.

But maybe he wouldn’t.

Cas senses his struggle, “If you want, you can ask me,” he says, coming closer, in his eyes his timeless patience, that gaze that tells him that he is seen, he is known. Cas says: “I will say yes,” and it’s barely more than a whisper but Dean’s brain is a step away from short-circuiting anyway.

He looks away and he doesn’t recognize his own voice when he blurts out a hurried, muttered, nervous, almost angry: “Well, stay, then.”

But then a sunbeam decides to cut through the clouds in that exact moment and has Dean looking up again. The lazy sunlight of an early afternoon shines on Cas’ face. He’s not bothered by the sudden change of light, unlike Dean, who has to squint and bring a hand to his forehead.

Cas’ eyes sparkle like shimmering water when he says, “Okay.”

Dean barely remembers what happens after that. That image gets imprinted behind his eyelids and he can’t stop thinking about it.

He floats through a darts game and a dozen of Carol’s sandwiches. Then there's Jack telling an embarrassing story about him that has people folding in two with laughter, and Claire agreeing on following them back to the bunker only with the promise of destroying him at foosball.

There's Sam introducing him to this lady to work a job together on alledged arachnes activity in Winsconsin and a girl who wants him to debunk some stuff she's heard about them but she doesn't believe (he disappoints her cause they are mostly true) but most importantly, there's Cas' thigh pressed against his when he's sitting and Cas’ shoulder just an inch away when he's standing, and somehow it's different than it was before.

Most of all, he feels lighter than he's felt in ages.

*

Later, as he gets to his car with Sam, he says, “Hey, you know, you were right. It was a little fun,” and his brother looks at him in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? We came here to meet new people and you spent all your time with Cas.”

Dean shrugs, embarrassed to be called out. “So what? You spent all your time with Eileen,” he says and he regrets it immediately, especially as Sam purses his lips like he’s holding back a laugh.

He nods, “I see your point,” he says diplomatically, stressing the t, before he slips into the passenger seat.

Dean doesn’t look forward in continuing the conversation, crammed in a small space with his ears burning and Sam’s gigantic enquiring eyes on him, thank you very much, so he stays out of the car, his arms crossed on the roof, frowning at himself.

He watches as Cas comes down the little pathway with Jack and Claire. In the orange light of the sunset, Jack turns to ask him something and Cas nods. Typical. At the end of the path they split and only Cas makes his way across the street.

"Jack is riding with Claire," he says as soon as he's within earshot. He sounds like he doesn't think it's a good idea and it's a little funny.

"Relax, we're gonna be right behind them."

Cas seems reassured by that, but it only lasts the time it takes for him to make his way around the car, because even before he can grab the car handle, Claire speeds past them shouting, "See you, dorks." Now he looks truly alarmed.

Dean says, "You up for a ride after we drop Sam off?” and all his worry melts away from his face. He says a soft, “Alright,” and disappears into the backseat.

So when they get to the bunker, Dean doesn't follow Claire’s car to the garage and stops up front, the engine running. Sam looks at him confused, “We’ll be here in an hour,” Dean just says, grateful for the shadows around his face.

Sam is stunned for just a second, then snorts, “Fine guys, I’ll babysit tonight, but next time you gotta ask.”

He gets out and the next moment Cas has taken his seat. He doesn't waste time to pop one of Dean's tapes in the deck as he takes the road again.

Dean rolls his window down and in the night air that ruffles his hair he can smell another storm coming. He turns the music up and meets Cas’ eyes. There’s a smile in there somewhere that mirrors his own.

And - they may not be just two individuals in a car going nowhere and nothing more, and things may not be easy, probably never will, but maybe, Dean thinks, it doesn’t really matter in the end.

[ddarker-dreams]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice. Yan Jotaro x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation mentions, very brief and minor injury ment, just general yandere stuff word count: 2.1k

“We’re here.” 

You let out a low hum of acknowledgement at Jotaro’s statement, lifting your head from its previous position of resting against the car window. It’s bright and early in the morning, the sun just starting to peak up over the clouds, bathing the world in a soft glow of warm colors. Jotaro turns the keys, the engine’s purring dying down into a final sputter. Throughout the drive from the hotel you’re staying in, you’ve been in and out of sleep, not used to being up bright and early. Normally your repetitive days blend together like watercolors, faint and indescribable from each other. This serves to be a new palette, an opportunity to see the world with your own eyes. 

Ignoring the dull ache from your legs, you step onto solid ground and stretch. Jotaro’s preoccupied with opening the car trunk, gathering his equipment and the few items you wanted to bring along. An umbrella, beach chair, towel, and some books to read. You fiddle with hands, shifting your weight as silence encompasses you both. He doesn’t so much as struggle with all the heavy items in hand, but the part of you that feels polite feels inclined to offer assistance. 

“Do you, uh, need any help with that…?” You inquire, taking a step forward and preparing to reach out should he agree. Aquamarine eyes flicker towards your clumsy proposal, searching for something unknown and coming up short. As you expect, he turns you down with a decisive shake of the head. It’s impossible to quell the curiosity of knowing what flashes through his mind, his body language hardly ever giving hints to his intentions, aside from taut muscles and grimaces.

“I’ve got it.” 

His tone isn’t meant to sound harsh, it’s just how his voice naturally sounds. You still can’t control the natural reflex of shrinking away at his rebuttal, an uncomfortable silence drowning over you both. He pauses for a brief moment, staring you down, parting his lips before closing them. Time feels like it’s at a stand still, until his attention returns to the awaiting beach. Neither of you make any further attempts at conversation, you trailing a foot behind him as he walks onto the sand. The tension from before melts from your person at the sight of soothing ocean waves, the ground underneath you growing softer, nostalgia coming in full force.

He sets up your area before getting to work on his own tasks, steadying the umbrella in the sand and unfolding the beach chair. You mutter a quiet thank you as he places the finishing touches down, a cooler that had water and sandwiches for if you needed them. The details of this trip are still largely muddled, Jotaro never has been one to over indulge his business. All you managed to squeeze out of him is that he’s taking samples, something about plankton and checking on the local ecosystem. The jargon went over your head. What matters most is that, after being on your best behavior, you’ve earned a trip outside of your normally reclusive lifestyle. Anything is better than having to stare at the same four walls everyday, trying to reminisce on what your life was like before you met Jotaro Kujo.

“I won’t be too long.” Jotaro calls over to you, walking towards the receding waves and setting off to work. You nod your head, settling back into your seat. The beach you’ve arrived at has no other signs of life, aside from seagulls calling to one another and the occasional crab you spot. Human beings are out of the question, Jotaro likely having chosen this spot for the lack of them. He can’t always keep an eye on you, no matter how much he wants to. Having him stuck to your hip like glue has been suffocating, and you’re grateful for the break. 

Staying within the confines of the shade the umbrella brings, your mind drifts into a land of daydreams. The world around you fades away, replaced with thoughts of better times. Where you didn’t have to constantly be on guard, around a man who claimed to care for you, despite rarely showcasing it. Your quality of life improved the slightest bit when you stopped acting combative towards him, taking a more passive approach to get through the days. Jotaro didn’t change his conduct around you much, aside from a few offerings to travel alongside him if his job required going to a secluded area. These opportunities are few and far between, and you always jump at the chance to see the world you were stolen from again. 

Preoccupied with your thoughts, you’re unaware of a presence lingering over you, until something wet and slippery drops onto your leg. A startled gasp leaves your lips at the unexpected sensation, your body jolting up to identify the source of the feeling. Eyebrows furrowing together, you spot Jotaro wading in the ocean, bending over and observing different objects. So where did this come from…? Squinting, you continue searching around, before spotting Star Platinum staring at you expectantly. 

Oh. So that’s what’s going on here.

Now having a better understanding of the situation, you realize the item on your thighs is a bunch of seaweed. Cold droplets of water fall onto your skin, causing a shiver to course throughout your body. He hovers above you, eyes almost doe-like as he excitedly searches for a positive response to his gift. Lazily rubbing away the sleepiness that threatens to consume you, you pluck the seaweed up to inspect it closer. You’re not sure what led the Stand to giving you this bizarre gift, but decide to thank him for the effort regardless. He’s never given a reason to earn your ire, a friendlier companion than his own User.

“Thank you,” you glance from his gift and then back to him, placing the seaweed by your side for safekeeping. “So, this is for me?” 

He nods his head, offering a soft “ora!” in excited confirmation. Star Platinum doesn’t make any movements to disappear, and you can only assume Jotaro has no idea his Stand is wandering about on its own merit. The first -- and likely last -- time that you surprised Jotaro was when he realized you could see his Stand, having a Stand of your own. Ever since then, he’s made it a point not to allow Star Platinum around you, for whatever reasons. There’s no way to confirm the gnawing suspicion that it’s because he’s embarrassed by how enthusiastic the Stand is in your presence, though it’s the theory you go with.

You realize in the time spent searching for a plausible explanation, Star Platinum had been gathering more knick knacks. Settled in his muscular, phantom arms, are various objects that litter the beach. Seashells, sea glass, and a few colorful rocks. The one item that sticks out to you the most, is a very peeved looking hermit crab, its legs flailing in the air. 

“Star, you have to put that little guy down. I think he’s wondering why he’s floating…” You sit up, pointing at the huffy hermit crab. The Stand blinks, considering your proposal, then concedes with your wishes. If only Jotaro were this agreeable, your life might be a bit better. With surprising care, he places the crab back onto the sand, then looks back to you. Is he hoping to be praised for following through with your request? Tilting your head to the side, he mimics the movement. 

“What else did you find?” While you ask this, you cross your legs together, waving for the Stand to come closer. He does so without hesitation, dumping the treasures in front of you. You search through the combination of items, fixating on a pretty, amethyst sea glass. It feels coarse in your hands. You inspect it, a rougher side of it managing to nick your finger in the process. Dropping the item at the unexpected jolt of pain, a small curse leaves your lips. Star Platinum floats to your hand, frantically taking hold of your hand. 

“It’s all good,” you reassure him with a sheepish smile. “Just a small cut. It won’t do too much damage.” 

Star Platinum doesn’t appear convinced, fawning over your effected finger with great displeasure. This serves as further reinforcement that he’s Jotaro’s soul manifest, as they both worry over you the same amount. Star Platinum doesn’t look to be convinced by you. Larger, ghost-like hands envelope your own. It’s strange how a Stand so powerful is capable of showing a softer side, only for your eyes. You can’t help the fluttering of your heart at its potent concern, not used to being fussed over having physical touch accompanying it. Jotaro will chastise you should you ever do something to displease him, without laying a hand on you. Star Platinum is different in that regard, taking every opportunity he has to touch you.

“Here, how about this,” you grab into your bag, procuring a book that Jotaro bought at your behest. “I can still hold it, see? It’s not a big deal at all.” 

Not wanting the Stand’s guilt to transfer over to the User, your mind searches for a way to mend the situation. This time without Jotaro breathing down your neck is to be relished, you won’t let it end earlier than it needs to. Opening back up to the page you left off on, you motion for Star Platinum to look over your shoulder.

“Do you want me to read for you?” You ask, taken aback by how swiftly he nods his head in confirmation. This wholehearted approach to life is so unlike Jotaro, you sometimes wonder how this can be his Stand. It’s in total contrast to the man’s stoic, seemingly dispassionate way of going throughout life. Maybe you’ll ask if you can interact with Star Platinum more often, with how eager he is to please you, it can be a bit addicting. Your own Stand is stirring within, though you don’t want to let it out in fear of how it may be interpreted. Revealing your Stand is often associated with trying to use it, and knowing Jotaro, would be taken as a sign of rebellion. Maintaining the delicate balance that consists of your turbulent relationship with Jotaro takes priority. 

“Well, this story is about a girl who has a ghost, and lives in a town full of them. Unlike Stands though, her ghost is haunting her, and tells her people’s thoughts…” 

Jotaro secures the final amount of samples required for testing, having just finished the checklist he was assigned. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sets back to shore, thinking about the plans for the rest of the day. You’re probably going to be hungry by the time he gets back. Maybe a visit to a restaurant wouldn’t be so bad…? It’s been over half a year since you’ve made a fuss over your situation, and he hopes it stays that way. Jotaro is uncertain of what to do when you’re crying, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that came with your initial resistance. He decides that going around that many people is too much of a risk, you’ll both get room service when you’re back at the hotel.

He doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. That is, until he spots his own Stand hovering right by your side, bewitched by your every word. Jotaro clicks his tongue, calling Star Platinum back, pushing down his hat to hide the flush of his cheeks. When did his Stand come out, and how did he not notice? Internally, he prays that Star didn’t do anything unsightly in front of you. At his appearance by your side, you stop reading aloud your book, realizing that Jotaro must be the reason Star Platinum disappeared. 

Frowning, you close the book. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” 

“I finished up here,” he doesn’t want to talk about the flustering events from before, already bringing the umbrella down without asking if you’re ready to leave. “We can go get breakfast.” 

At the mention of a solid meal, you shoot up, thinking of what you’re going to order. Jotaro’s grateful for how well he knows you, and how adept he’s grown at redirecting you. It’s a most useful skill, not that you ever seem interested in teasing him. Without thinking, he hands you the container that holds his samples, hoping it’ll serve to keep your attention. 

It works like a charm, you asking about the nature of the water samples on the walk back to the car. 

[asaphira]

Perpetual Machine Trio｜囚→隐←赫

[sintatae]

qn | part two

qn or quaque nocte: an abbreviation that nurses and other healthcare workers use for medications and interventions to occur every night // 3670 words

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: nurse!reader, business analyst!taehyung, f2l, mild fake dating, neighbours, angst, fluff, breakfast dates and nighttime strolls

summary: …in which you love the night and he loves the day. you’re grumpy, shy, and keep to yourself. while he’s pure joy, fearless and outgoing. you have the makeup to be complete opposites of each other, but it’s in both of your favourite parts of the day, where you realize you’re a lot closer than you thought.

summary | part one | part two 

inspo | masterlist

Buzz. Buzz-buzz. Eyes fluttering open as if angry at the world, you reach under your pillow to find 2 missed calls from Taehyung and 1 (probably drunken) missed call from Bianca. Rubbing your eyes, you look at the clock above your bed to see that is it now 0900 in the morning. On your weekend off.

What in the world?

You open your phone to a flurry of text messages.

Bibi (1): okso ur gonna come out with us again right I miss u come hangout w me u_u [0345]

Jimin (1): So......what happened last night? Also any idea why I’m on the couch with Namjoon lol [0812]

You shake your head laughing at the memories of Bibi’s relentless ploys to get you out of the house and hauling one of Jimin’s listless arms around your shoulders while you dragged him through the backdoor.  

Shooting straight up in bed, you remember what happened the previous night and touch your fingers to your lips as the feeling of Taehyung’s lips against yours lingered.

There was never a considerable amount of time that you thought about Taehyung.  Truthfully, you didn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about what he meant to you aside from the fact that he was becoming one of your closest friends in a city far from your own. Before you even realized it, he became a part of ‘home’ to you.  Because there was a comfort about Taehyung, almost like the feeling of sinking into your most comfortable pillow after a long day or night.  Almost like sitting next to a warm fire on the beach during summer, if you got too close, he shined brightly enough to make you forget your worries. He was chicken soup for the soul. Perhaps it had been the reason you suckered him into this position in the first place. Taehyung was comfort.

Perhaps, it was all starting to make sense to you, despite how oblivious you had been. The way that he always met you on your way home or made sure that you had something to eat. Always inviting you to come hang out with him and the boys or even the way he constantly teased you about sleeping all day, when being a hermit was all you wanted to do. You didn’t even realize how easily he could convince you to hang out, which was a feat that no unknowing person could do.

Taehyung felt the same way too. At first you were just the cute girl next door who didn’t know anyone apart from one friend named Grace from nursing school who made the move to the city years ago.  Something about you drew him in, whether it was your loud, bright laugh or the fact that you always got frazzled whenever someone paid more than enough attention to you. You always wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of before you were. It made him want to take care of you, not that you needed it. Despite your stubborn, at times type A personality, you were also oblivious to how magnetic you were. There wasn’t an uncaring bone in your body.  He’s heard how rough you have it at work sometimes, and wanted to make sure that you were taking care of yourself as well. He had no doubt that you were an excellent nurse.

Rubbing your eyes and shaking your head to rid yourself of the ????? panic in your head, you open your messages from Taehyung.

Taehyung (1): Wake up!! [0824]

Taehyung (2): Breakfast time, sleeping beauty! [0856]

Ignoring the rush of nerves in your stomach, you reply.

Y/N: hi [0901]

Y/N: You do know what time it is right [0901]

Ding!

Taehyung: Sure do, it’s 9am. Come outside I made grilled cheese.  And coffee as promised. [0902]

Getting up to brush your teeth, you reply.

Y/N: You made grilled cheese? Or Jimin made grilled cheese? [0902]

Taehyung: I sprinkled the cheese. [0903]

Y/N: A man after my own heart. [0903]

Taehyung: :) [0903]

You open another conversation.

Y/N: Thanks for the grilled cheese. [0905]

Jimin: ;) [0905]

After brushing your teeth and throwing on a large sweater over your sleeping shorts, you slide your feet through your house slippers and begrudgingly make your way downstairs. You smooth down your bedhead and grab a blanket from the couch to wrap around yourself, making your way to your backyard door. You see Taehyung bring out two steaming mugs of coffee as you pull open the door— trying your best to give him cut-eye for waking you up early (but failing miserably when you see the extra-large grey sweater he’s donning).

Hands hidden in sweater paws, he sets down the two mugs and glances up at you, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Hi,” You say sheepishly, coming closer to where he’s standing near their couch on the patio. “I’m tired.”

Arms outstretched as you go near him, Taehyung engulfs you in a hug that smells very much like Taehyung- fresh linen and something sweet. Why do you even know this?

Suddenly feeling shy, you playfully shove him off and onto the couch. “You woke me up, jerk.”

“If you were actually upset, then why are you out here?” He says smirking, ends of his lips curled upwards. Plopping yourself down onto the couch beside you, you pick up your cup of coffee, eyes looking anywhere but his.

“Where’s everyone?”

“Jimin left early to open up the café since someone called in sick, Namjoon is in the shower and Jungkook is still sleeping.” Taehyung says in between bites of his sandwich. Elephant in the room. Balling up his napkin and pushing your plate towards you, he starts “So...”

“So...?” You speak while taking a bite, still avoiding his eyes. An awkward beat passes between the two of you, as you both eat in silence, occasionally glancing up at the other. The summer sun shining bright behind him and rising by the minute, you squint your eyes at him.

“About last night... I think I might have drank too much.” He says. There’s a slight sinking feeling in your stomach as the words leave his mouth, but either way, you make sure he doesn’t feel too bad for acting out of character.

“Oh, don’t worry about it at all, it happens.” You say, indefinitely avoiding his eyes. “You don’t have to have regrets.”

“Actually I do have regrets,” He says, hand reaching out to place on your forearm.

“No no no, you shouldn’t. Actually it makes more sense this way, and honestly I was the one that made you come out with me—”

Before going off on one of your nervous tangents, your argument is cut short when Taehyung runs his hand down your arm to place your hand in his. Stopping yourself, you furrow your brows at him as he laughs lightly to himself.

“What I meant was,” He stops to push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I only have regrets because I didn’t ask you out first. And because I ruined my own plan by kissing you prematurely.” Hearing him say he had his own plan makes you laugh, but you’re still confused.

“When did you…even start feeling this way about me? I had no clue.” Sitting up to grab your mug, “I always just thought you were looking out for me as a good neighbour. Or because you thought I was a loser, sleeping all day and not doing anything.” He laughs at this.

“Well, that’s partly true.” He says, laughing as he sees you giving him some side-eye. Leaning back to throw an arm around your shoulders, Taehyung says,  “It wasn’t until seeing you every morning on your way home from work and before I left for work myself, that I realized it was what I looked forward to everyday.”

You soften at this, but can’t help to throw in some self-deprecating humour since you’re still reeling from the confession. “You looked forward to seeing this sleep deprived grump coming home from what was probably a rough shift?”

Flashing his wide smile at you again, he says, “Precisely.”

You stop yourself when you almost check your wrist for your pulse, your heart rate must be over 100 at this point because you suddenly feel out of breath and nervous. Opting to just stay quiet, you lean your head against his shoulder.

A few beats of silence pass as both sit in each other’s company.

“Taehyung, why do you sit out here so late after work?” You feel him tense beside you. Sighing, he says.

“Work… has just been kicking my ass lately.” Pulling you closer into his shoulder and staring forward at nothing particular. “I just have a lot of pressure and weight on my shoulders. So I just need to decompress sometimes.”

“Is it the promotion?”

“Ehhh. Among other things,” he says, nervously twirling your hair above your shoulder. “Hey! Does that mean you’ve been spying on me?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Holding your hand up for a high five, you speak, “I’m here for you though.” Laughing, he reaches up to high five you back, locking your fingers between his. Just then you hear the sliding door open. Jungkook.

You make a move to pull apart but Taehyung stops you and says, “He knows,” while shoving some grilled cheese in his mouth.

“Of course I know,” Jungkook says, stealing the other half of Tae’s sandwich. “It was obvious to all of us after you moved in and all Tae could talk about was helping you with your moving boxes because he wanted to be a gOod nEighBour.”

“Jeeze bro, do you need more sleep or something?” Taehyung says beside you, glaring at his roommate.

“Oh another thing, back before we knew you were nocturnal, he’d always wonder when you’d be awake or if you were home. He always took out the trash at night in case he could see you, so we just let him make it his chore.” Jungkook says grinning.

“Alright, alright,” Taehyung says getting up, shoving the younger boy to the door. “That’s enough. There’s more food inside so go.”

Taehyung pushes a backwards Jungkook all the way until he’s inside the kitchen and pulls it closed. Before departing into the house, Jungkook flashes you two finger hearts while smiling.

All you can do is shake your head and smile, mind still reeling at all of these new revelations.

“Last night was fun though, thanks again.” You say, still avoiding his eyes. “You were a good fake boyfriend.”

“Don’t mention it,” The boy says, both of you making eye contact while a beat passes. “Any time you need me, I’m here.” And he was.

Two weeks go by and despite his confessions, you both fall back into your usual routine. Nothing needed to change, except maybe some flirting and a few stolen kisses here and there. Your schedules made it hard to see each other, especially when you were working but you could always find time to meet whether it was in the early morning sun or late at night in the moonlight. There didn’t need to be labels, you were having fun after all.

There was even one random Thursday night that you may or may not have kept him out longer than intended, not that he cared really.

It was 2330 at night and you were at work after picking up an extra few hours to help with staffing shortages on the unit. You had gotten a ride to work with Esther and completely forgot as you were leaving that you didn’t drive. You texted Taehyung after your shift and after learning your predicament, he called you.

“But Tae, it’s a work night! You don’t have to pick me up.” You nagged on the phone. “It’s late. I was just going to order an Uber.”  

“Exactly, all the more reason to pick you up.” Taehyung said on the phone. “I’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

“Fine,” You relent. “But let me treat you at least.”

2 minutes and not a second later, the lights of Taehyung’s car flash at the entrance of the hospital. Towing your work bag over your shoulder, you meet him, smiles donning both of your faces. As soon as you’re in the car, you smile sheepishly at him and thank him for picking you up.

“Hungry?” You ask.

“It’s 11:30 at night.”

“...And?” You say. Taehyung just shrugs. “Okay, well I still have to thank you in some way for picking me up.”

He smirks at this, eyebrows raising. As you reach over and smack him on his shoulder, Taehyung’s expression softens and he laughs. “Okay, okay just kidding.”

“Let’s get breakfast.”

And so the two of you do exactly that, stopping at the 24-hour breakfast place just down the road from the hospital. A staple on your nightshifts. You weren’t planning on dining in, but the two of you naturally slid into a booth and shared a plate of Nutella pancakes loaded with strawberries. An hour and a half had gone by without you even realizing, both of you debating over if sweet or savoury was superior. (Taehyung insisted it was sweet, but a savoury crepe was top tier.) You started getting sleepy since you weren’t able to get your pre-shift coffee.

After paying for your food, the two of you made your way back to his car. Hands in your sweater, you bumped Taehyung’s hip as he threw an arm over your shoulder.

While in the car, streetlights passing, you try to stifle a yawn into your arm.

“Tired?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, aren’t you?” You say, eyes drifting closed. “You have work tomorrow...”

Taehyung can only smile at you as he reaches over and threads his fingers through yours. You take his hand in both of yours as you lean your head against the seat, facing the window so he can’t see the blush that creeps on your face. Yep, no labels.

The next morning, Taehyung was late for work. You wake up to his footsteps in the backyard, trudging down the steps of your deck. Glasses perched at the end of his nose, you can tell from behind that he’s walking with his eyes closed as he waddles to his car. Wearing a maroon t-shirt and black jeans, he throws his shoulder bag into the front seat before driving off.

Well, at least it’s casual Friday.

To be honest, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint how you felt about Taehyung. There were definitely feelings there, but you guessed it was just you being cautious and wary as usual. That, and the fact that you weren’t expecting to fall or feel anything remotely of the sort for anyone while you were here.

This isn’t part of your plan.

The panic alarms go off in your head once in a while, but you’ve started to ignore them.

The clock in the nursing station reads 0645 on a Monday and as you sit down to finish charting on all of your patients, you get a text message.

Taehyung: Quick coffee date after work and before I work? [0645]

Taehyung: Or are you too tired? You’re off tonight right? [0645]

Always the double-texter.

Y/N: Yes, I’m tired and yes I’m off tonight. But yes, coffee. :) [0646]

Taehyung: Can’t wait.

You smile and shove your phone away to finish charting. Bibi sits beside you and scoffs, rolling her eyes. You eventually told her why Taehyung came with you that night, from the plan all the way to your walk with him.

“What is it, Bibi?” You say sighing, not even bothering to look up from your computer.

“Nothing, nothing…” Bibi says, twirling around in her computer chair. “Just that you’re a big liar.”

“About what?!” Still not turning to look at her. “When have I ever been untruthful?”

“Oh nothing, except maybe to yourself.” She says, smirking at you. “You know, even though we work in the cardiac ICU, you seem to listen to every heart except your own.”

“Ha ha. How long were you sitting on that one?”

A call bell goes off and she gets up to answer it, but not before shooting you a wink. Saved by the bell, you get a moment of solitude and don’t dwell too much on what she said.  

You practically run to your car after changing out of your scrubs (and brushing your teeth). Night shift breath is… no joke. Briefly you wonder if you need to touch up your makeup when you see the dark circles under your eyes, but decide against it –Taehyung never cared how you looked after work and you start making your way to the café.

Taehyung’s already sitting in your usual spot on the loveseat, two coffees on the table in front of him. He’s checking something on his laptop while you sit beside him, eventually nudging him in the arm with your elbow when he doesn’t notice you sitting there.

“Hi.” He says, “Sorry sorry, just finishing up this work presentation.” You wave him off, taking a sip of your coffee. “Okay, done. How are you?” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

A soft blush creeps onto your face, and Taehyung grins. “I’m good. I had a fair assignment last night, but they made me charge nurse.” You frown at Taehyung. You didn’t mind being in charge, but you felt like it was the blind leading the blind when you were with your inch of experience. Thankfully you had a good team working last night.

“Aw, I’m sure you did a great job.” He says, an arm thrown around your shoulder. “Besides, we love a strong woman in charge.” He picks up one of your arms, poking at your bicep. “Well, maybe not that strong.”

You shove him back onto the couch, laughing while Taehyung’s hand comes up to smooth out the crease in his dress shirt. “Hey, I have a presentation to do today. I’m already nervous as it is, so be careful with the merchandise.”

“A presentation? With who?”

“Oh you know, the executives. The partners. The works.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna do fine, Mr. Promotion. Just be yourself.” You say, patting his head. “And I’ll be home tonight, we can decompress together. And maybe get some food.”

“I’d love that.”

“Speaking of food, do you want anything? Breakfast of champions to hype you up for your presentation?”

“I’m almost worried to find out what your version of breakfast means.”

“I’ll surprise you.” You say giggling, getting up to order at the counter. You stand and wait for your food—chocolate croissants (for you), a mini breakfast club and a double shot of expresso for Taehyung. Just as you’re about to send a message to Jungkook about working out later, your order is called out.

But as you make your way over to Taehyung, you realize he’s standing and talking to an older man dressed in a suit. You see the way Taehyung is hurriedly packing his laptop into his work bag, and you awkwardly interrupt to hand him his coffee and sub.

“Hello.” The older man says to you. “I’m Mr. Kim.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You say, sheepishly reaching out to shake his hand and glancing at Taehyung sideways.

“Y/N, this is Mr. Kim, CEO of SunnyDaes.” Taehyung says nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at everything but your eyes. “And also, my dad.”

You were nervous at graduation, nervous about your maid of honour speech at your sister’s wedding, and you almost passed out writing your nursing licensure exam. But in this moment, it truly felt like your stomach dropped out of your ass.  

“Oh. Oh! Hi sir, it’s nice to meet you.” You said, unconsciously bowing before standing up straighter.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Mr. Kim says, with a smirk on his face. “Nice to meet the girl who’s been making Taehyung late for work every day. Do you have work to get to, as well?”

“No, she actually worked last night, Dad.” Taehyung says.

“Oh, did you now? What do you do for work?” Mr. Kim says again, asking you directly, eying you up and down.

“I’m a nurse.” You say, fidgeting with the sleeves of your top, feeling suddenly self-conscious in your sweats.

“Oh, very nice.” He says giving you a soft smile. He adds, “Did you always want to be a nurse? How long were you in school for?”

“Dad, please.” Taehyung says, eyes closing in defeat. “Please don’t grill her. Besides, she needs to get home to sleep. Right, Y/N?”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” You say. “Yes, I always wanted to be a nurse. And I was in school for four years.”

“Ah! That’s surprising.” Taken back, you wait for him to finish. “I guess some young people actually know what they want to do.” Flashing Taehyung a wink, he pats him on the back. “Let’s go. The executives are looking forward to your presentation.”

You look at Taehyung and mouth a quick “good luck” to him. Though your smile says otherwise, he can see the panic in your eyes. You hated surprises and definitely needed time to mentally prepare for well, anything.

Smoothing out his shirt once again, Taehyung makes his way to the café door, his father following behind.

“Oh, and Y/N?” Mr. Kim says, looking back. You nod and he continues, “Would it be alright to grill you later this evening for dinner?”

His back to you, you see Taehyung freeze.

“Um, yeah- I mean, yes that would be alright Mr. Kim.”

“Excellent.”

As they both leave, you sit carefully on the loveseat, thinking about what had just transpired. Feeling numb to your fingers, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your jeans. Long forgetting the croissants in the brown paper bag, you place them on the coffee table in front of you, appetite non-existent.

You can’t ignore the panic alarms now.

AN: hi hi sorry this was long overdue like a year overdue oops, i wrote it and rewrote it so many times before i realized i just needed to post it!! i’m literally posting this before i have to work tonight sooo sorry to leave it on a cliff hanger, but maybe this will push me to keep going hehehe okay anyway i hope y’all enjoy!! 

chelsea 

[gumnut-logic]

Mosaic Beach

It has taken me since Thursday morning (it is now Saturday night) to write this goes-nowhere-piece-of-fluff. I had a low level migraine Wednesday night and felt awful Thursday morning, so the first 850 odd words are me visualising being in a better place other than outside my daughter’s school. Then Scott had something to say and promptly ate my fic. But then at least he was thinking about Virgil.

Also, Gordon is evil.

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for the read throughs and support. You guys are amazing to me :D

I hope you enjoy this totally lazy fic ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

It was a lazy day.

Virgil suspected John, who had been kicked off Five the day before, had Eos routing all but the most dire situations to local authorities whether Scott authorised it or not.

There were days where Virgil wondered if Scott was really in charge, since John had so much ultimate say.

But that thought was for another day. He was tired and it was likely going to be a day off - please let it be a day off - and he was going to find a corner of the Island to sit alone and scribble in his sketchbook.

He ended up on Mosaic Beach, a personal favourite on the edge of the caldera. Gordon had mentioned it the day before regarding the quality of flotsam available after the last storm and Virgil thought he would see what he could find.

It was overshadowed by an ancient pokey tree brilliant in red blossom and the sand here was a mass of black and white swirls as the coral detritus fought the eroded igneous rocks – the reason they had given it its name. Gordon was right - there was all sorts of things tossed up the sand and Virgil spent the first half hour wandering along the strip of sea wrack picking up shells and whatever caught his eye.

One of the shells appeared determined to return to the ocean and it was with a small smile that he picked up the tiny hermit crab and watched it curl up into its shell.

Holding it gently in his palm, he sought the shade of the giant tree and sat down on the sand in its shadow. Here the breeze was gentle, the sand cool and, leaning back against a rock, he set the little crab down on a smooth patch of sand, along with his small hoard of shells and let it scamper across the little landscape that resulted.

Sketchbook out, he spent the next few minutes sketching the crab madly as it moved about. It shifted angle at random and he found himself increasingly switching from real life to a character sketch. A little personality sprouted from the page that reflected the little crab’s determination.

Ever aware of the crab’s needs above his own, he sketched fast, took a few photos and then gathered the little creature in his hands once more. He trotted down to the rock pools at the edge of the beach and found a spot he felt the crab would be happy.

Crouching down, he watched it scamper into the water.

His lips curved into a smile.

Gordon would know what species it was, where it lived and how to best care for it. Virgil was pretty sure he knew what type it was. Mel was pedantic about crabs and had given them a list of ‘these are endangered, tell me if you see them, kill one and I will kill you’. Fortunately or unfortunately, it wasn’t a long list, so Virgil had memorised it. This little guy...he should be happy here.

The crab found some weed and promptly hid under it.

The rockpool drew Virgil’s eye a little longer before he finally stood up and let the breeze cool his face. A sigh at the sun’s warmth and he wandered back to the shadow of the pokey tree and sat down again.

The little crab stared up at him from his sketchbook, spritely and determined.

Kind of like Gordon really, despite the claws.

That prompted a smile at the thought of his fish brother’s reaction to being compared to a crab.

He would squawk, but he would love it.

Virgil returned to sketching the shells and bits of coral he had collected. Rearranging them, repositioning for lighting. He picked one up and stared at the colours created by a little mollusc. He was ever amazed at what Mother Nature was capable of. Simple geometrics and chemical formulae made one of the world’s strongest and most beautiful substances in nacre. Another broken shell showed the rainbow of colour that he knew his paintbrush would never quite be able to capture, much less the pencil and stick of carbon he had with him today. He was left with a little snapshot from his phone...which was never quite the same either...and what his memory could provide.

Perhaps it was nature’s way of ensuring it was always the most beautiful.

He shifted to scribbling down the beachscape after that. It wasn’t the first time he had drawn this beach, but as with all beaches, it was different every day as the tide sculpted it.

His fingers grew more and more lazy, his lines wandering through more emotion than reality as the day drifted on. At some point, he ate the sandwich he had packed, quite happy to not care what time of day it was and refusing to look at his watch.

Eventually the sketchbook was set aside and he let himself just stare out at the ocean lagoon, eyes tracking the movement of the distant waves and the laps of the ripples against the shore.

And nature’s rhythms lulled him to sleep.

-o-o-o-

“Hey, big bro, you might want to drop by Mosaic Beach before the tide comes in.” Gordon waltzed past the desk Scott was sitting at with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Scott’s brain was still stuck in working out what the hell Simmonds meant by the ‘urgent memo’ that had interrupted his afternoon off.

“The snoring is scaring away all the wildlife.” With that Gordon grabbed a book off the shelf on the far side of the room and backtracked out the way he had come in...without another word.

Scott was left staring where his brother had been.

But then Gordon was worth ignoring some times.

He turned back to his display and continued to try and work out why Simmonds had ordered sixty plastic flamingoes and then memo’d him about it in a panic.

It took him a good few minutes more before throwing it back at Simmonds’ supervisor in Japan with a ‘concerned’ note.

What did Tracy Industries need with sixty plastic flamingoes?

He shook his head and forced himself to stand up and not invest any more in any comms from the business. Today was hopefully his day off and he refused to fall into the trap of losing himself in all the things that required attention.

All the things.

He paused mid rise.

But no. No! Vacation day. He forced himself away from the desk and out onto the balcony.

It was a beautiful out here. The afternoon sun was blazing in a brilliant blue sky without a single cloud. The sea was murmuring far below. It was an artist’s dream.

He blinked as certain Gordon utterings connected neurons together.

A frown. “Gordon!”

No answer.

Another frown and he strode back inside, following the recent tracks of his fish brother down to the kitchen.

Scott found him reading at the table, a phone that was most definitely not his in one hand and the book in his other.

There were lots of photos of crabs.

“What are you doing?”

“Confirming the identification of a crab.”

“Why?”

“Virg found one down on Mosaic Beach and I wanna make sure it is what I think it was so I can report it to Mel.”

The dots that had been connecting earlier fused into a solid line with an arrow pointing directly at Gordon. “And where is Virgil?”

“Snoozing on the beach.”

“And why do you have his phone?”

“Because his drawings were excellent, but I needed a colour shot.”

“Gordon!”

His brother didn’t even look up. “What?” But then he blinked and frowned at Scott. “He’s fine. Well above the high tide line.” A glance down at the book again. “There, that’s it. Oooh, Mel is going to be so excited.”

Scott glared at Gordon for a whole second longer before storming over and snatching the phone out of his hands. Without another word, he strode out of the kitchen and took the path that would lead him down to the reported beach.

Younger brothers were hard work.

The little beach wasn’t the closest on the Island. Probably one of the reasons Virgil chose it to get away from pesky younger brothers. Trust Gordon to find him anyway.

He fingered Virgil’s phone in his hand as he walked. The green leather case was embossed with an elaborate dragon design.

Looking at it, all he could really feel was fondness.

He must be tired. Grandma was right. He needed a day off.

Easier said than done. It wasn’t like he could park himself on a beach and fall asleep.

He grunted as he stepped over some rocks to start the climb down to the little cove. The path was thin and wove amongst several pōhutukawa trees – or pokey trees as Alan called them, their dark green leaves adorned with puffs of red blossom. Birds darted between them squawking at each other. That combined with the surf in the distance and the breeze rattling palm trees, it wasn’t the quietest of places.

Nevertheless, he found his brother sprawled against a rock under the largest pokey tree at the edge of the beach, snoring his head off.

Definitely noisy.

Virgil was dressed in an old pair of work shorts and a t-shirt with a hole in it. Both sported spatters of paint and clearly showed how relaxed his brother was trying to be.

Beside him on a rock, carefully placed, no doubt by Gordon, the brat, was a sketchbook and a box of drawing tools. Virgil’s artist backpack lay folded up supporting his head - again likely Gordon.

Virgil snorted and curled up just a little more against the rock.

Gordon was a shit, but he was a kind one. Virgil slept like the dead and would likely need one of those waves off in the distance to wash over him if he was going to wake up before he wanted to.

Staring a moment longer, Scott sighed, gave up and sat down beside his brother. He dropped the phone onto the sketchbook and looked out at the beach.

Virgil continued to snore.

His biggest little brother had always snored. Scott had cornered him and got him tested for a variety of sleep issues, but he was fine. Just loud.

The terrible two used to make a point of pointing it out as much as possible. But that was before the hydrofoil accident.

Gordon didn’t know it, but due to his injuries, he now snored, too.

The ribbing about snoring in the Tracy household had dropped to a minimum since, Gordon the only unknowing ribber.

But Virgil remained the major noise maker and the brothers worshipped the soundproofing in the villa.

Regardless of the racket, Scott did find it strangely quiet out here. Sitting on the sand with nothing to do was oddly relaxing. Of course, he wasn’t really one to do nothing and Virgil’s sketchbook was right there. Gordon had obviously already stuck his nose into it and Scott was pretty sure Virgil wouldn’t mind if he took a peek.

Would he?

Lifting the phone off the book, Scott carefully picked it up and nestled it in his lap...ever, ever so careful. Okay, so he had some respect and not a little fear of damaging Virgil’s artwork.

The pages were thick and stiff and likely designed to support wet media as much as dry. Most of the work in it was pencil, however, maybe some charcoal? The darks were so deep in some that they had to be.

But Scott was no artist and really only had eyes for the content.

The first page found him looking at himself. Virgil had obviously either captured Scott’s likeness on the sly or drawn from a photo or holoprojection. His drawing stared up at him in almost all three dimensions. The expression on his graphite face was thoughtful, almost wistful. He could see his rendered self was thinking or planning and totally distracted...which was likely why he had no clue his brother had captured this shot.

But the artistic strokes were strong and sure, simple in their complexity.

Scott blinked, moved that his brother was so talented and capable.

Though he really shouldn’t be surprised.

Turning the page, he discovered their grandmother.

He had to smile. The concentration on Grandma’s face was almost comical. A bowl and a recipe book sat in front of her and the very tip of her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as she frowned at whatever she was reading.

There was a touch of caricature in the drawing, a little exaggeration, but done with love and fondness, not mockingly. His grandmother was beautiful.

Scott swallowed and turned the page to find several detailed scribbles. They looked like pieces of machinery and the pages had notes written down the sides.

It was a spark moment. He knew Virgil well enough for that. One of those times when his thoughts all came together and saw him running naked out of the shower to grab whatever he could find and get it written down.

Several major equipment improvements had occurred exactly this way. It appeared that at some point, this sketchbook had been the nearest note book and had borne the brunt.

He stared at the diagrams, doing his best to work out exactly what they were. Sharp notation, numbers, that had to be the backend of a pod. It clicked. This was part of the pod assembly redesign from the previous year. Virgil had come to him with some major improvements, including a pod body redesign. What followed had been a massive overhaul of all the ‘birds’ assembly systems and a whole new set up, including colour changes according to which Thunderbird housed which pod. Virgil and Brains had been buzzing for weeks.

And it was possible it had all started here on this piece of paper. Now he could see the scribbled down inner workings of the assembly mechanism and the shape on the second page was a worked and reworked pod shell.

He glanced over at his brother who was still snoring peacefully. Virgil was amazing. Scott could not have been prouder of what his little brother had achieved. Yet Virgil never really boasted or bragged or even highlighted what he had done. He was just there. Always there, one step behind him ready to help.

He must be really tired because now he was getting emotional. There had been a few times in the last couple of years where he had come close to losing Virgil. He hadn’t, but there had been nightmares and many a night where he had spent reassuring himself that his biggest brother was still with him.

And yes, he could stand outside his brother’s bedroom door and listen to him snore.

It gave him comfort.

Gordon had caught him once.

That had been a heartbreaking moment.

Because his fish brother hadn’t said a thing, just reached up, squeezed his shoulder, dropped his forehead against Scott’s arm and just stood there for a solid moment. Another gentle squeeze and he left, not even looking up at Scott before he was gone.

It said more than any words.

Scott sighed and turned the page...only to come face to face with Gordon again. Though this time the joy in their fish brother’s eyes was lighting up the page. He was grinning at a shell and there was a speech bubble - ‘Virgil, come and see this!’

Scott had to smile. Gordon was notorious for sharing his beach discoveries. Virgil was usually the target because at least he knew a little bit about their little brother’s fascinations. Scott loved to see Gordon happy, but honestly, he couldn’t tell the difference between one shell or another. He tried. He honestly did, but Virgil had the patience of a saint and was much more engaging.

Scott loved to watch the two of them instead.

And yes, he saw Virgil sneak things into his pockets. Usually shells, but occasionally rocks and bits of coral. Those finds made their way back to Virgil’s studio and there was a whole corner devoted to marine still life.

Which was why it was no surprise when the next three pages of sketchbook turned out to be exactly that. A curly shell, a pile of cockle shells - Scott knew those at least - they were good for fishing. The third page had a plan for a reef painting. It had scribbled notes, much like the pod redesign pages, but this was based around a sketched layout. Scott frowned at it...it was vaguely familiar. He would have to ask Virgil about it when he woke.

The next two pages sported today’s efforts. The same beach he was sitting on emerged from the paper, along with some sketches of a crab. The first few were realistic, but the last one had the little hermit crab with an IR symbol on its side and one of Dad’s old uniform hats perched on top of its shell. It bore a sash that resembled Virgil’s despite the lack of green colour and one of its claws was bigger than the other in a very exo-suit-like way.

That had Scott grinning. This was no doubt the reason why Gordon had run for the crab book. Mel, in her position of Director of the Kermadec Expedition south of them on Raoul Island, was very particular about the endemic crabs on all the islands in the area.

He wondered what she would think of them inducting crabs into IR.

He wondered what she was doing today and if she might be available later for a nice evening together.

That thought was very distracting and had nothing to do with crab identification at all.

Virgil snorted, rolled over off his backpack and face first into the sand.

Scott startled, fully expecting a woken bear of a brother to surface from that.

But Virgil just kept snoring, now snorting sand as well.

He placed the sketchbook down, scrambled around his brother and gently shoved the folded backpack under his head again.

His fingertips brushed sand off Virgil’s face.

And he found himself sitting beside his brother again.

Why was he out here?

Because Gordon was evil and dangled the concept of Virgil drowning in the tide simply to aggravate him enough to do exactly what he did.

Gordon was a shit.

But a good one.

Another sigh and he lay back against the rocks and got comfortable, because, let’s face it, he wasn’t going back up to the villa without Virgil. His brother was safe, sure, but walking off and leaving him to the elements ran against his grain.

And Gordon knew it.

He would throttle, and possibly hug, his fish brother later.

Besides, it was nice out here, taking a moment to just be.

Virgil would approve.

Virgil would fake being asleep just to get him to do it.

Scott’s eyes darted to his now softly snoring brother, a sudden suspicion at the forefront of his thoughts. He would put it past either of Virgil or Gordon’s conniving ways to conspire to get him out here.

Virgil was drooling a wet patch onto his backpack.

Ugh.

Well, maybe not.

Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

Perhaps he just needed to relax.

Relax.

He closed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap. Kayo was good at meditation. So was Gordon. Virgil did some connecting with nature thing that seemed to work for him.

Exhibit A snorted as if in agreement.

He could try.

Out of all the sounds he could hear, only one really held his attention.

That same soft snoring. No waves or wind or birds squawking brought him any kind of comfort.

The sound of his brother breathing evenly beside him, safe and sound, was the most beautiful sound in the world.

What that said about him...well, he didn’t care right now. He was tired and worn out. Maybe Gordon was right. Maybe this is what he needed. He should care, should be annoyed, but the rhythm was lulling and, god, he was so tired.

So goddamned tired.

Virgil kept breathing and Scott followed him into sleep.

-o-o-o-

Hidden in the foliage of the grove of pokey trees behind his two brothers, Gordon just smiled.

-o-o-o-

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 280: I Am Red Riot

Previously on BnHA: The pro heroes over at Gunga Mountain struggled against Gigantomachia and the League until finally Midnight was all, “fuck it, let’s just put the kids in charge.” Momo immediately got to work organizing a sophisticated counteroffensive involving an exploding swamp, a bunch of sedative cans, and a massive coordinated team attack. I gotta tell you guys, it’s really something to watch a large-scale group attack in which all of the team members are actually competent. I don’t know what Japan put in the water when all these sixteen-year-olds were growing up, but that shit has paid off big time, and basically the only reason Machia hasn’t gone down yet is because he cheated and was all “sneeze” and the kids all got blown away because they are little and because he is really, really big. Anyway so then Dabi set the forest on fire because he loves doing that, and the chapter ended with Mina using her Acid Man attack to make herself FUCKIN’ FIREPROOF so she could charge through the woods ready to save the day and stuff!

Today on BnHA: Mina launches herself straight at Machia like the beautiful corrosive wild child she is, but then everything goes to shit when she recognizes him from that one time she almost got murdered while giving a strange man directions. Just when it’s looking like she might get killed for real this time, KIRISHIMA SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY AND SHOVES HER TO SAFETY AND IS ALL “BOTTOMS UP” AND HEAVES A LITERAL CAN OF WHOOPASS RIGHT IN MACHIA’S MOUTH. At this point the grown-ups are all “oh wow look at that, time for us to take over for you kids now, don’t worry we’ve got it all under control” because Oh Those Wacky Pros and all that, but at least Majestic finally deigns to show his face so that’s a plus! The chapter ends with us cutting back to the Jakku battle, where Tomura is curled up in a little ball all “curse you heroes, how dare you [checks notes] save people all the time”, which is a real take and a half. Anyway so things are looking up, which can only mean everyone is about to die. That’s how it works, right. Shit.

HOLY SHIT LOL

THIS IS MINA. SHE’S REALLY COOL AND SHE CAN MELT PEOPLE. um, the hell kind of tagline is that?? holy fucking shit?? “melt and succumb”?? IS THE SUCCUMB PART REALLY NECESSARY. IS THAT NOT ALREADY IMPLIED. it’s like saying “die and then perish”, which actually sounds really badass and I’m about to make it my new go-to threat actually so you know what never mind. where the fuck were we anyway

“IS EVERYONE SAFE” some absurdly bad-at-gauging-situations kid from class B is yelling while the forest is on fire and all the kids are recovering from having been catapulted fifty miles by King Dodongo’s windy yeet breath. of course they are safe, sweet child. of course everyone is absolutely fine, why the fuck would they possibly not be safe after something like that

KAMINARI NOOO MY POOR SWEET BABY

AT LEAST HE’S STILL CONSCIOUS ENOUGH TO MAKE STUPID JOKES. holy shit this baby got concussed to hell and back and then Machia turned him and the others into precipitation and he wasn’t in any kind of state to even try to land safely, I hope to god someone caught him

Sero is all “is there anyone still in range!” and damn, I like that he’s taking charge and trying to regain their momentum. he is so criminally underrated. I feel like he’s in the top six or seven of class 1-A kids who I would most trust to take charge. which is very high praise because that class has a lot of charge-taking kids

SPEAKING OF

it “probably” can’t get through her acid, she says. my god. sometimes the spirit of Plus Ultra just takes ahold of these kids and it’s like, I want to ruffle their hair proudly and then grab them by the shoulders and shake them vigorously because WHERE EVEN IS YOUR SELF-PRESERVATION WHY DO NONE OF YOU HAVE IT GODDAMMIT AIZAWA REALLY SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED YOU GUYS AFTER ALL

man. and yet I really do love this “be the one who can do it” stuff. what a heroic fucking attitude dfjfklks. I’ll just go put on my humongous sandwich board that reads GIANT FUCKING HYPOCRITE and go stand in the corner

damn it this week’s scan is annoyingly dark, it’s really hard to tell what’s going on but it looks like the pros are attacking Machia and the League at long last. way to go guys it only took you seven years but you finally hopped to it

MINA WHY IS THE ACID COMING OFF OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. PUT IT BACK!!!

I KNOW SHE’S NOT GONNA DIE DAMMIT BUT AHHHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH

okay what the hell is up with these weird zen proverbs though

“your fear stricken heart”, “the shortest path”, what the fuck even is this. whose thoughts are these. normally these translations are honestly decent enough but I gotta say this time around I’m totally being thrown for a loop lmao

(ETA: FYI I’m only just now realizing that he was saying the shortest path to Master, as in Tomura, not “master” as in to master something fjkldjskf lol some delayed reading comprehension there. so basically he’s just bitching about how annoying these little “flies” are proving to be.)

JESUS CHRIST

okay is it just me, or is Gigantomachia suddenly showing intelligence in his eyes instead of mindless animal instinct the single most pants-shitting thing you’ve ever seen?!! holy shit. the way he just LOOKS at her out of nowhere all of a sudden?? holy fucking shit DO NOT HURT MT. LADY OH MY GOD I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. AND DON’T YOU DARE HURT MINA EITHER!! JUST FUCKING DIE AND PERISH

but also though, is that recognition in Mina’s eyes?? because even though this dude is 80 feet tall now, her encounter with him a couple years back had to have been one of the more memorable experiences of her young life. damn I was wondering when this would finally come into play

OKAY YES THE NEXT PAGE IS A FLASHBACK OH SHIT

this has nothing to do with anything but Mina just has the prettiest hair, btw, and this “just woke up covered in acid” look is a particularly good one on her. it looks so soft and fluffy, like damn. this is like Shouto-hair-billowing-in-the-wind levels of pretty here

NOOOOO

oh my god holy shit?! putting her back in the school uniform to show the slip in her mentality is a PUNK MOVE, HORIKOSHI, and I respect the shit out of you for it you manipulative bastard. goddammit. bracing myself for the incoming wave of Mina feels... here they come... they’re a lot... let’s see if I can latch on to anything I can actually figure out how to describe in words

okay well here’s one, my respect for Mina’s bravery just went up like a thousand percent in this instant, because now we know this was actually such a traumatizing event for her that hearing Machia’s voice again years later immediately sent her into a full-blown flashback. she was that scared and yet she still stood up to him and didn’t hesitate. and now I’m remembering how her knees just buckled right afterwards, and just...

and this visual, though!! what a brutally effective way to show that in her mind she went right back to being that scared middle schooler again for a moment. god fucking damn. holy shit you guys is Kirishima fireproof because if he comes waltzing out of the woods next I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. lolo kids getting traumatized left and right this arc is fucking merciless

um eXCUSE ME!?!?!

YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT LET GO OF HER RIGHT NOW OR I AM GONNA LOSE IT!!

THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!

holy shit he could have fucking snapped her neck like that??! I don’t like this at ALL WHAT THE FUCK

OKAY SERIOUSLY

I’M GONNA NEED ANOTHER KID TO STEP IN HERE WITH A LAST MINUTE SAVE LIKE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, OR I AM GOING TO THROW MY COMPUTER OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND MOVE TO THE DESERT AND BECOME A HERMIT AND NEVER READ MANGA ON THE INTERNET AGAIN

OH THANK GOD

TODAY WE SPELL “REDEMPTION” K-I-R-I... ETC. THERE’S A LOT OF LETTERS BUT YOU GET THE DRIFT!!!

holy fucking shit y’all. I mean, it’s not like it came out of nowhere, like the setup could not have been more obvious, but let me assure you that none of the predictability lessened the actual impact of this moment in the SLIGHTEST. Horikoshi really wrote a flashback scene one hundred and thirty five chapters ago and planted it, watered it once a day, and patiently waited for THREE LONG YEARS until he could finally harvest the badass fruits of his labor in the midst of his most epic arc to date. I’m so fucking hyped I’ll even forgive him for sacrificing Mina’s big moment and having her get rescued, because it’s such a good reversal. he didn’t freeze up this time. he promised himself he’d never freeze again and he didn’t and he saved her and god fucking damn. anyways so now Machia is going to treat him like a fucking action figure though but he’s a solid little dude he can take it hopefully

NO WHAT IS THIS!!! STOP KILLING MY MOOD!!!

she better not be dead!! SHE BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD I WILL RUN MY PC THROUGH A PAPER SHREDDER AND GO AND LIVE ALONE WITH MY FEELS ON A MOUNTAIN IN TIBET

CHINTETSU!!

well we know he’s fireproof. another callback at the least expected of times lmao

so Tetsu’s all “yeah Kirishima’s not really all that fireproof but he totally ran over here anyway to save you. oh wait that probably wasn’t very comforting of me to say.” maybe that’s why it seems like he might not have actually said it out loud, now that I’m reading this over again. good call Tetsu

ARE YOU STANDING UP AND CASUALLY STRETCHING OUT YOUR BACK

I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE HOW MUCH I HATE THIS GUY RIGHT NOW. WE’RE REACHING LEVELS OF HATRED RESERVED FOR NAZIS AND PEOPLE WHO WALK TOO SLOWLY IN FRONT OF ME IN A GROUP SHOULDER TO SHOULDER INSTEAD OF SINGLE FILE SO I CAN PASS IN FRONT OF THEM. YOU’RE A FUCKING TOURIST IN NYC YOU PIECE OF SHIT

lmao he’s just dropping this random hero person and letting him fall to his doom wheeeeee

remind me to leave all of the League of Villains’ texts on read for the foreseeable future. goddamn. I still love you guys but also, fuck you so damn hard

OHO A LIL RED SCALY BOI ISN’T DONE YET!!

real talk, just between you and me, I’ll lower my voice so that Kirishima can’t hear. so uh. we all agree that even if Kiri is fireproof and squishproof, that little can of tranquilizer juice technically shouldn’t have been, right? but we’re all going to hush and pretend like it was anyway for the sake of not spoiling his big moment. even though I am crossing my arms and tapping my chin with my finger while doubtfully glancing to the side

anyway here he goes!

YEAH KIRI GO GETTIM [stage whisper] there it is, in his pocket. should’ve burned. we won’t discuss it

OH FOR FUCK’S

TOGA YOU LITTLE WIENER BUT WHAT’S THIS ABOUT “MY HALF” NOW????

DID HE GRAB MINA’S MID-AIR?? IS HE REALLY REACHING INTO HIS BACK POCKET AND FUCKING UNZIPPING IT RIGHT NOW WHILE HOLDING ON TO NOTHING AND PRESUMABLY FALLING THROUGH THE AIR. DID A LITTLE BIT OF OCHAKO’S QUIRK RUB OFF ON YOU OR WHAT

OH SNAP SON HE REALLY DID THE THING HOLY SHIT???

AND TOKAGE FLEW OVER AND SAVED HIM AND NOW TANKS ARE SHOOTING AT MACHIA, LMAO WHAT IS THIS. MOMO HOW MANY GUNS DID YOU MAKE

Shouji standing there trying to be useful any way he can. are eyeballs really that much more effective if you make them the size of tennis balls and hold them up above your head. legit question, I don’t really know how eyes work

okay after 45 seconds of googling this my impression is that no, they are not. well good on you for giving it the old college try anyway though Shouji

oH MY GODLKDLK?!?!

DID SHE SAY WHAT I THOUGHT SHE SAID, DID SHE SAY MAJESTIC, ARE WE GONNA SEE MASJKESLTKCI DSFLKJL

oh my god he really is the Magic Man dude??? TIME TO DUST OFF MY INVENTORY OF ADVENTURE TIME QUOTES

(ETA: AHH FATGUM AND GANG ORCA ARE THERE TOO YESSSS!)

“that’s enough depending on some interns” oh, okay. now that they’ve done all your work for you. I see, I see

so now Gigantomachia is LITERALLY UNHINGING HIS JAW I can’t fucking believe this dude you guys. everything he does is just like, ARE YOU SERIOUS

please go to sleep already. thanks to you I have my keyboard set to capslock as the default for the duration of this chapter

ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU FUCKING WAITED UNTIL MAGIC FUCKING MAN SHOWED UP TO TEACH US MAGICAL LIFE LESSONS AND NOW YOU’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE TOMURA FIGHT?? WHY DO WE KEEP LETTING THIS MAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

oh my god you guys they really fucking did it

I guess that Howitzer slash fire punch combo really was that potent huh

anyway so now Endeavor is standing there making a big speech instead of reaching into Tomura’s pocket and taking the bullets that he doesn’t know about and shooting him with one asap. dammit Endeavor

aaaaand Tomura is firing back with the wisdom of Shimura Fucking Kotaro of all people

well you sure convinced me. damn I don’t know what I was thinking. heroes suck you guys. how dare they help other people all the time

so now he’s all “PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT!!”

take that Endeavor. you heard the man. it’s not destruction without conviction, as god as his witness he will have you know it is destruction WITH conviction. something something the great sage Shimura “I hurt my family for absolutely no reason at all, fuck this ‘helping others’ bullshit” Kotaro. I hope you packed your textbooks because you just got SCHOOLED. I hope the person who ordered you signed up for delivery notifications because you just got SENT. I HOPE YOU LIKE CAPITALISM BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT OWNED. I HOPE YOU CHOSE PAPER AND NOT SCISSORS BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT ROCKED

what an absolutely, unreservedly bizarre place to end the chapter lol. we’re really just done with this week, just like that. Majestic showed up and Gigantomachia opened his chin like a garage door and Tomura is all “you may have won the battle but you suck” while he buys time for Aizawa to suddenly sneeze or something so he can make his terrible comeback and continue Horikoshi’s Traumatize Every Kid in Class 1-A 2020 campaign. what an arc this is my friends. what an arc

[imaginethatneathuh]

The Hermit: Technical Boy - American Gods

Technical Boy x child!reader, father-child

Technical Boy needs to get away from the Drugs gods for a bit and comes across a kid.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: Blood, skull-cracking, hospitals, swearing, near-death experience (and making light of it), drugs, sex, starvation, adoption, fostering.

Word count: 3.6+ K

•

Sometimes, Technical Boy just needed some air. Everybody does, but with him, it was more of a necessity so he wouldn’t blow up at someone.

Sex (the druggie) had been teasing him a lot more than usual and he hated it. Sure, Weed and Coke tried to get her to stop, but she started doing it behind their backs, and if Technical Boy told Weed about it, he’d be a snitch. He did not want to be known as a snitch bitch amongst the drug gods. That would be a nightmare.

He could have asked for Weed to help him calm down, but he didn’t feel like calming down that way. He wanted some peace, not to get high.

So, here he was, walking down some random street in some random city because he didn’t want to be anywhere near the druggies.

Yes, they’re his best, and only, friends, but he doesn’t always want to get high. Being around them, usually meant getting high off them. Sometimes, it’s nice. Sometimes, it’s not.

Technical Boy, in a dice hoodie with the hood up and black sweatpants with fire at the bottom, stared at his phone, scrolling through the news.

It was a lot of shitty stuff.

He wasn’t surprised by that. The others, “family” of the druggies, were at it again. Those of that sort, those with the brown hair and eyes, it’s like they were born to create chaos and discord in the world.

Technical Boy rolled his eyes, scoffing. He slipped his phone away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The god turnt to the sky, eyes closed.

As he walked, passing by an alley, Technical Boy heard quiet sniffling.

Instead of stopping, he kept walking.

There were plenty of homeless people in the world. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born into wealth or lucky enough to be able to keep their homes. Some people get shitty deals.

Nothing he could do about it. Nothing World would allow anyway.

Still, the god noticed that the sniffing was much higher pitched than normal, adult sniffling. He had an entire database of sounds at his fingertips, and as a part of him and his domain. It sounded like the sniffles of a child crying.

He stopped and hung his head.

‘This had better not be a kid,’ he thought to himself.

He didn’t like children, in theory. He’d never actually met one but from movies and shows, they seemed insane. It’s likely, upon meeting one, he wouldn’t know what to do.

Technical Boy wasn't good with regular adults. Dealing with a child would be impossible.

So, instead of assuming he was right and the sniffling was coming from a child, he decided he was wrong and approached the alley’s mouth as if an adult was in there.

“Hey, man, you okay?” He asked.

The god peered in, trying to make out anyone.

Something small shifted around. It was far too small to be an adult like he’d hoped. The small thing poke its head out from underneath a small, makeshift cave of junk. It quickly hid after seeing the god.

Technical Boy looked around and sighed, shutting his eyes.

‘It takes, in total, from 0-18-years-old, $284,570 to raise a kid, and a good chunk of a parent’s day to take care of a kid,’ he thought. ‘I have the money, but I don’t have the time.’ He opened his eyes and looked at the makeshift shelter. ‘Why the fuck is my first thought taking care of the kid? I could drop them off at a home or something. That’d be easier.’ He walked closer, trying not to scare them. ‘But the foster system here is fucked. The kid could get hurt, be abused, or die.’ As he approached, he noticed the kid watching him. ‘But there are tons of good families who foster and adopt, too. They’re not all bad. 1.5 million kids have been adopted and roughly 140,000 kids are every year. So, there’s a good chance the kid will become a part of a family.’

The kid pushed themself away from the opening and into their shelter.

“Hey,” he said. “Hi, are you okay?”

Technical Boy knelt down and watched for the kid.

“Leave me alone. I’m fine. Go away,” they said.

There was a silence. The god did not leave.

“Please, go away?”

‘The kid sounds weak. Like they haven’t eaten in days. When was the last time they showered or took a bath, too? I can smell ‘em even from over here.’ Despite the disgusting alley floor, Technical Boy seated himself.

“Nope. Can’t. Brain won’t let me.”

An old, rusted out can came from the shelter, flying straight at Technical Boy. He easily dodged it.

“Wow, you’re a dick,” he joked.

He heard a small huff.

Slipping his hands into his pant pockets, he found candy, probably chocolate, that he’d forgotten about.

‘This is so not healthy for a kid,’ he thought, playing with the wrapper in his pocket. ‘But, it’s better than nothing.’ He took the candy out, finding a Snickers. ‘Called it.’

“Hey, you like chocolate?” He asked them.

More shuffling from the shelter. “No. Especially not from a stranger.”

“Here.” He tossed the Snickers into the mouth of the shelter. “Have a Snickers. It has nuts.”

A thin hand reached out and snatched the candy quick as a whip.

The tech god raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t like chocolate.”

Another can came from the darkness and he dodged it again.

The kid unwrapped the bar and used the wrapper to fill a gap in their home. Hungry, they scarfed the candy down.

‘So small. The kid must be starving.’ Technical Boy continued to watch the mouth of the shelter, his concern for the kid growing.

“You always around here?” He asked.

A small piece of glass was thrown at him but it didn’t get very far, falling an inch or so away from him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Technical Boy stood up and brushed himself off. “I’ll see you later.”

He knew it would be impossible to convince the kid to come out of their hole and come with him on the first meeting, but he hoped to convince them to go into foster care sooner rather than later. If he tried to tell the authorities, the kid could get hurt or worse.

He left the alley and the kid watched him do so.

•

Technical Boy, in the druggies’ kitchen, placed an apple and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a bag.

Weed walked in, smiling. “Whatcha doin’?”

He looked over, a water bottle in his hand. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to the bag. “Just making a bag of food.” He cracked open the bottle and closed it again.

“Who’s it for,” they asked.

The tech god shrugged, putting a small stack of crackers and a container of cut cheese in the bag.

Weed wrapped their arms around his waist and rested their head on his back.

After closing the bag, he placed a hand on Weed’s, chuckling. “I’ve got to go, Weed.”

“First, tell me who the bag is for,” they mumbled.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he said before he turnt around to face them. “But, as soon as I learn what their name is, I’ll tell you.” He booped their nose with a smile. “Promise.”

Weed giggled, sleepiness in their eyes.

Coke rushed in and grabbed an apple off the table, one from Weed’s garden. He stopped before he left and turnt around. “Are you two having cute times without me?” He asked, with a goofy smile.

“No,” Technical Boy said as Weed rested on his chest. “I was trying to leave, but Weed is sleepy.”

Coke bit the apple and walked over before picking Weed up. They wrapped their arms around him, nuzzling into him.

“Thank you, C,” the tech god said, earning a nod from Coke who practically ran out of the room with the apple in his mouth and Weed in his arms. “Don’t fall!” He shouted after them. Technical Boy picked up the bag and left for the alley.

•

The kid shoved a few cans into place on their mountain of junk. Technical Boy watched them work for a little, not wanting to interrupt until they were done. When they finished and started to head into their home, he approached.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Brought you something.”

The kid, at the mouth, stared at him like a deer in headlights before rushing into their cave.

Technical Boy sighed and walked to it. “Ya know, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, kid.” He dropped off the bag of food at the mouth of the cave before sitting down farther away.

They snatched it up as soon as they thought he was far enough away.

Technical Boy sat, crossed-legged, and watched for any signs of anger..

“You trying to poison me?” They asked.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Cap’s been opened.” The water bottle rolled to his feet.

He rolled it back. “Nope. I opened it for you. Those fucker’s are annoying and the ridges hurt.”

The bottle slipped into the darkness.

The kid, inside, sipped on it. “Tastes gross,” they said, pulling a face.

“It’s bottled water. It never tastes right.”

The two sat in relative silence as cars drove past and the kid ate. The occasional pedestrian peeked into the alley, giving Technical Boy odd looks, but he didn’t particularly care. He was used to it.

As the kid finished, they asked, “Why’d you come back?”

“Felt like it.”

“Why’d you bring me food?”

“Felt like it.”

“Are you a rapist?”

“No. You?”

They laughed a little. “No. Are you a peadophile?”

“No. That’s gross.”

“Are you going to tell the police where I am?”

Technical Boy sighed. “If I wanted to do that, I would have done it yesterday.”

“You gonna kidnap me and sell my organs on the blackmarket?”

“Sounds like too much work,” he said, stretching. “I’d rather hire someone to do that for me instead.”

Crunching came from the dark hole. It wasn’t cracker crunching. More like, a horse mowing down on a carrot or apple.

“This tastes good.”

“Yeah, a friend of mine grows their own food. Doesn’t like the food from stores. I’m pretty sure they want to start raising livestock, but, I don’t know.”

“Mhmm,” they said before tossing the core over his head into a nearby dumpster. “Do you think you could bring more?”

Technical Boy nodded. “Definitely. If my other friends don’t eat them all first. But, harvest was good, so I doubt they’ll all be gone.” Technical Boy pulled out his phone and texted Weed. “I’ll text them to hide some of the apples from the others just in case though.”

Carefully, the kid peered out, staring at his phone.

“There. Done,” he said, putting his phone away. “They’ll hide some for ya.”

A can came at him but he ducked.

“You told them?” They growled.

Technical Boy put his hands up in surrender.. “Woah, hold your horses there, kid. I haven’t said shite to anyone. I just asked them to put some of the apples away, that’s all.”

Inside the hole, they looked him up and down. “Can I have my can back?”

“No, it’s mine now.” The god pulled the can behind him protectively.

The kid giggled.

A text popped up on his phone. Technical Boy looked down at it and rolled his eyes.

“What?” The kid asked.

“Nothing, just my boss being a dick.”

The container Technical Boy had filled with cheese rolled out on it’s side.

He opened it to find a few crackers and some cheese. “I made the bag for you, kid. Not for me.”

“I know. I just don’t want you to be hungry.”

“Thanks.” He smiled softly and ate the cheese and crackers even if he didn’t really want to.

“My name’s not kid, ya know,” they said. “It’s Y/N.”

“Technical Boy.”

“That’s a weird fucking name.”

The god shrugged. “Should a kid your age be swearing like that?”

They shrew a can at him. Instead of dodging, he caught it and put it behind him with the other can. “Mine,” he said.

“Nuh-uh!” They said. “Gimme my can back!”

Technical Boy shook his head. “Nope. You threw it away meaning anyone can claim it. So, I did.”

Y/N huffed. “Dick.”

•

Weeks passed and every single day, without fail, Technical Boy came to Y/N’s little home with food and conversation. Once or twice, he brought clothes and blankets. He very well couldn’t let the kid freeze. What kind of person would he be if he did? Even though both Media and World didn’t like his disappearing acts and he got repeatedly scolded and punished for it, he didn’t care. For some reason, he found he had grown rather fond of the rude kid. He liked to believe they had begun to like him, too. Even if it was just a little, itty-bitty bit. The god no longer wanted to let them go into the foster system, rather, he wished to take care of them himself. But he knew Y/N wouldn’t agree, no matter how much they liked him. They were much too independent for that.

Since he’d started coming, little Y/N had grown in both width and height. No longer skin and bones, they moved around more and even left the confines of their home for more than building.

“I’m stronger now, so I can kick you better if you try anything,” they had claimed.

Technical Boy chose to see this as them trusting him more.

•

Technical Boy dropped off a bag of food at the mouth of Y/N’s home and sat farther away.

Y/N came out, sitting in front of the mouth in the light. They opened up the bag and smiled.

“Apples,” they mumbled.

Technical Boy smiled as they rifled through the bag. “Yeah, that’s the last of ‘em, though. Won’t be more until the next harvest.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looked up and gave him a pained smile before looking back down.

He shrugged and played with one of his confiscated cans. “It’s whatever, kiddo.”

Y/N tossed him a fruit snack baggie. He caught it but dropped his can.

“Ya gotta stop doing this, N/N,” he said, opening the baggie. “You need to eat more than I do.”

They flipped him off.

As he ate the gummies, he watched Y/N scarf down everything. At least that hadn’t changed.

“How are you feelin’? You think you’ll be okay here during the colder months? They are getting closer,” he said.

They looked up, some jelly on their mouth. Y/N wiped it away. “I’ll probably be fine. More fat means more insulation. Plus the blankets you gave me.” They picked at the sandwich. “Are you still going to come, even when it snows?”

“Of course, kiddo. Come rain or shine, hail or snow, I’ll be here until you don’t want me to be.”

Y/N stared at him for a while before crawling into their home. Inside, they rummaged through their things, pulling out bits of scrap and pushing away blankets. After a while, they found what they had been searching for and returned to the outside world.

Outside, they stood up and walked over to Technical Boy. They presented him a beaten up and squashed Snickers bar and refused to look at him while doing so.

Gently, the god took it from them. A Snickers bar, just like the one he’d given them when they first met. A strange, warm feeling spread throughout his chest and he smiled.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Instead of going back to the cave, they plopped down next to him and wrapped their arms around one of his. They nuzzled into his arm and held on tight.

It was a rather odd sight. A much larger, muscled man with an odd style choice and a clean visage being clung onto by a small, dirty child no older than 10, no younger than 5.

Looking down at the kid, Technical Boy knew he had to protect them, no matter what. This was his kid now. They had been for some time.

•

Another day, another bag for Y/N.

Technical Boy did as he always did, placed the bag at the mouth of the makeshift shelter and sat down opposite of it.

But, Y/N did not come out.

The god waited for a few minutes. When they still had not come out, he called for them. Still, there was no response. Technical Boy stood and walked over.

Placing a hand on the top of the mouth, he looked inside. “Y/N, hey, are you okay?”

Y/N lay limp in the makeshift nest.

“Y/N?” He nudged their legs with one of his hands.

Still, they didn’t respond.

Crawling a little into the small space as best he could, Technical Boy shook Y/N’s shoulders. “Y/N, wake up. Kid, please. This isn’t funny.”

Nothing.

At this point, the god had gone from fine to freaking.

Wrapping an arm around them, he pulled them out of their shelter.

A giant, bloody gash spread around their eye and eyebrow. He could feel blood on the opposing side like they’d been hit with something and cracked their head on concrete. They were cold, freezing really.

‘Please, be okay,’ he thought.

Their back pressed up against his chest, Technical Boy, through his tears, gently smack their cheek.

No response.

He calmed his breathing, shutting his eyes tight. ‘They can’t be gone. Not yet.’

Hoping beyond hope, Technical Boy checked their pulse, pressing his fingers to their neck over one of the carotid arteries.

After a few minutes of silence, he could feel a faint heartbeat.

They were alive.

The god let out the breath he’d been holding, sighing in relief.

His kid was going to be okay.

He stood up. Picking them up bridal-style, he held them close.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered to them. “You’re gonna be okay.”

•

Pacing in the waiting room, Technical Boy picked at his lip.

‘I should have asked them to come with me,’ he thought. ‘I should have made them come with me. This could have been avoided if I had just taken them. They’d be fine right now if I hadn’t wanted to respect their autonomy. The streets are no place for a kid.’

He sat down in one of the chairs, elbows on his knees. His hands interlaced in prayer and he bowed his head. Though he trusted his technology to save them, he couldn’t help but pray they would be okay. Almost immediately, his heel started bouncing against the tile.

“Mr Brown?” Someone asked.

Technical Boy looked up and then stood. “Are they okay?”

The person smiled, probably a doctor, and nodded. “Their skull had been cracked open and they lost a lot of blood, but they’ll be okay,” they said.

“When can I see them?” He crossed his arms, watching the doctor for their reaction.

“You can go to the room, but they won’t be awake for some time.”

“That’s fine. I just- I need to see them.”

They nodded, smiling sympathetically, and gestured for him to follow them.

•

The doctor showed him to Y/N’s room and gestured for him to go in.

Technical Boy, as soon as he laid his eyes on them, sighed in relief.

The bandages surrounded their head and one covered the gash around their eye and eyebrow.

He walked to their side, his eyes never leaving them. As he got to their side, he gently cupped their cheek and rubbed it. He knelt down.

“I’m sorry, N/N. I should have given you some way to contact me or something,’ he whispered to them.

•

The first thing the kid felt when they woke up was something in their arm. It wasn’t painful, just weird. The second, and more enjoyable, feeling was someone holding their hand and the warmth coming from it. Y/N groaned slightly and opened their eyes, only to find Technical Boy gripping their hand, asleep, with his head resting on the bed.

The view looked strikingly similar to their dad when they were younger.

“Tech?” They asked, struggling to get the nickname out.

When he didn’t respond, they nudged him. He groaned a little. Struggling, Y/N got up, feeling a little lightheaded, and, still gripping Technical Boy’s hand, they tugged on him.

The god groaned again and rubbed his eye with his free hand. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, looking up at them. “How ya feelin’?”

They tugged on him again and mumbled something.

“What?”

“Hug.”

Technical Boy chuckled and leant forward, hugging them tight.

Y/N hugged back, nuzzling into his neck.

“You fucking scared me, kid,” he said. He rubbed their back gently as he broke away from them.

Y/N immediately took his hand back, not wanting to be seperate from him. “Feel like I got hit by a brick and cracked my skull open on the sidewalk before crawling back home,” they rightfully complained.

Technical Boy rubbed their cheek, concerned. He dropped his hand and took their other one into his. “I know you probably prefer being on your own, but I really care about what happens to you and I don’t want you to be on your own,” he said as he looked them in the eye.

“Whatcha sayin’?”

“If you want, my place is plenty big for two people and it’s always open to you.”

Y/N was quiet. So quiet, in fact, Technical Boy thought they might have shut down like they always did when he said something they didn’t like and didn’t have something to throw at him.

“Will it be safe?” They asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, but I’m not calling you dad.”

Technical Boy chuckled lightly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, kiddo.”

[inaflashimagine]

This might get long but please bear with me because this headcanon has been stuck in my head for forever and I just got time to write it out.

Nanamin and his family have been going to the beach for vacations every summer for his birthday since he was a baby (there’s video footage of his first beach trip)

Growing up, Papamin never ever took time off, except during the summer during Nanami’s birthday, which would make it extra special especially when Nanami was really little because that meant he got to spend time with both parents!

They would always go to this one beach off the coast which papamin and mamamin found when they were still dating since it was never crowded and had the clearest waters

They would rent a house and stay there for a couple days, but spent most of their time at the beach

Mamamin would slather Kento with sunscreen because she was so worried that the danish blood would come through and he’ll burn easily like her and his grandpa, and it’s a good thing because once when he was a toddler his dad forgot and he was literally just an apple for days

When he was very little, he would spend hours just building sandcastles and decorate them with whatever he could find. Papamin was also really good at building them, and sometimes he and his son would bury mamamin under the sand as she napped

Baby Kento was a sand eater. He just didn’t understand that you couldn’t eat sand, and would stuff his mouth with it. He was the type of baby to put anything in his mouth

He would also just approach any animal he saw since he assumed they were all like his pet dog back home. Papamin once had to stop him from approaching an eagle, and Nanami threw the biggest tantrum.

The beach was one of the few places where they got a sense of normalcy. Being away from work and from so many people meant less curse energy, and Nanami never saw any curses at the beach. Everyone was also just happier and calmer too.

Kento liked the sea. His favorite thing was to chase the waves around and he would laugh when the waves touch his feet. He could spend hours just starring at it and slept extra peacefully during the night from the sound of the waves. When he got older, he started swimming with his father and they would race to see who could get to the other end of the beach faster

Mamamin always made sandwiches for lunch, paired with fresh fruits from the local stores. When it got really hot in the afternoon, the whole family would just sit and read under the shade and enjoy the scenery. Sometimes, papamin would even bring his guitar and play a couple of songs he used to sing to woo his wife. It was one of the few times Nanami would hear about his parent’s dating life.

They would also spend hours searching for hermit crabs when the tide subsided in the afternoon and Nanami would get to keep them in his little bucket overnight to observe them but his mum made sure he returned them to the ocean the next day so they could continue growing

In the evenings the whole family would take a walk along the shore and watch the sunset. Sometimes he’ll be in between both his parents, sometimes his dad will carry him above this shoulders. They would talk about everything and anything before returning to that house and struggle to get as much sand out of their clothes.

Nanami would beg his parents to stay out for as long as possible. He won once, and they saw so many stars that night.

They stop going for beach trips towards the end of his junior high years when his relationship with his parents became tense, and they never went during his time in high school or college either.

They start going to that beach again, when his relationship with his parents started improving after he graduated, and it’s where they got to open up and be more honest with each other think that avatar episode with zuko and azula at the beach

It becomes a yearly trip again, and when Nanami starts dating, his partner starts coming along too

That’s all for now, thanks for reading this compilation of random thoughts

I. Absolutely. Love. This.

Seriously, this was such a treat to read (especially bc rn it’s POURING outside so reading about the Nanami fam enjoying the beach has me so soft and lowkey jealous lol)

I don’t even know where to begin because all of these are gold. This has fueled my need for a jjk beach episode (not just the one during HI I NEED MORE) just so I can see a sunburnt Nanami LOL. And just reading how happy and carefree Mamamin, Papamin, and Kento are is so🥺 definitely makes sense why Kento wants to retire near the beach!!

Thank you anon for blessing us with this omg this honestly made my day