#though this year i have anOTHER exciting thing happening soon d>:)

[ma1dita]

trouble always finds me

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.7k 

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. Luke’s perspective on trouble & how they first met! think trouble’s origin story (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

warnings: none, fluff? Mr. D being a clueless dad lol also guys they’re 14 here

a/n: welcome back to the trouble!verse hehe i was inspired by Mr. D being a bit of a jerk to Percy so that the kid doesn’t off himself. Similar concept but with Luke after he first gets to camp— another version for why trouble!reader calls him angelface coming soon

(posted 1/19/24, erm unedited and not beta’d so forgive me in advance)

—

You were always trouble, Luke knew that from the day he met you. 

Walking into Camp Half-Blood, worn out and weary after days of trying to not become harpy food, his arm was slung protectively over Annabeth’s shoulder as they were led onto the campgrounds. So many pity-filled eyes were focused on them after hearing what happened to Thalia, but the camp seemed promising, filled with other demigods who can resonate with what they’ve experienced. Luke thought it was too good to be true, but anything’s better in comparison to the streets they came from. You, however, looked at them in interest from afar, a playful expression on a pretty face watching their every move like him and Annie were shiny new toys to play with.

He was so sure something was off with you. 

Had to be, from the deranged glimmer in your eye that would appear when something bad would happen at Camp. He’d seen it in action a couple of times before you set your sights on him— setting off fireworks during capture the flag, replacing salt with sugar in the kitchens, cutting Mr. D’s hair in his sleep; all of this causing campers and staff alike to run amok and figure out who to penalize. Each time he’d find you enjoying how it all played out, excitement brimming on the cusp of revealing yourself as the culprit as he watched you bite your tongue. But as a mischievous kid himself, he wondered why you hid it. You preferred to orchestrate the show, to make a spectacle for your personal entertainment, and with a smile too soft to be considered guilty, you were a convincing actress. 

The other campers in 11 told him you’d been unclaimed for half a year now, keeping to yourself and making a safe haven within the busy cabin. You were a klutz to say the least, bringing chaos to Camp Half-Blood with a cool disposition, and you hardly seemed interested the one time Luke tried to say hi as he took the bunk next to yours. 

So why the hell wouldn’t you lay off of him?

At first it was small, shoulder bumps and raised eyebrows whenever he piped up in a conversation. That, he could deal with. Luke’s a tough guy, having gone through more than a typical 14-year old would. 

But then it just got annoying.

Glitter in his shampoo, his laundry load dyed purple, and shoelaces knotted together to make him stumble— things meant to be more of an inconvenience rather than an actual problem. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to tell you. No one wants to be the new kid creating trouble, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

Maybe you were a Hermes kid like him, but of that, Luke wasn’t so easily convinced—months of living in 11 would mean you’d learn all of the tricks of the trade, so it couldn’t automatically mean that you were related (a part of him also hoped you weren’t be half-siblings, or else the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of you would be slightly awkward). Perhaps a child of Apollo? When you weren’t being difficult, he’s seen you sprinkled in sunlight, usually humming a tune under your breath. Yesterday it was a song from the Sound of Music, and though he only remembers bits of a memory from a movie night with his mom years ago, he put his combat gear on slower just to hear you finish the song. 

Whatever you were, it was bound to be troublesome.

—

At this point in life, Luke hasn’t had many comforts while on the run. To him there’s no such thing as action without reason, without meaning.  Five years of running and not looking back makes this son of Hermes realize that he hasn’t had a chance to take a breath until he got here. It’s hard to let down your guard when you’re always supposed to be keeping watch.

He wriggles under his covers trying to relax himself before bed, purple socks sticking out of the scrappy hand-me-down blanket, and he hears a small giggle from the bed next to his. Luke shifts his weight onto his side, eyes darting to your direction in the quiet of the dark cabin.

“Nice socks.”

He blinks. Were you talking to him? His toes wiggle playfully, prompting more of your melodious laughter as he chews at his lip before he responds.

“Guess I’m getting used to them.”

“You’re getting used to a lot of things around here. That’s good,” you whisper, and thinks he can see you concocting something sinister in that brain of yours—he’s on the edge of the mattress hanging onto your every word as he realizes this is the most you’ve spoken to him.

“You did this. Why?” he says, more of a statement than a question. Why would you go out of your way for someone like him?

“Are you mad about it? Luke, right?” you mutter, a calm expression on your face shrouded in moonlight, and for a second he wonders if you actually don’t know his name until he notices the upwards quirk of your lip. 

Luke catches himself then, and the realization hits him like a blow to the chest— he’s not angry at all. If anything, he hasn’t had the time to feel anything negative with the antics you’ve been pulling. You’ve proven to be quite the distraction to his circumstances, and he can’t remember the last time he’s thought about Thalia or his mom since he got here. The melancholy falls on his countenance like a better-fitting blanket than the one he has on, and your words pull him from his thoughts before they can suffocate him again.

“Sorry about your sister. I lost someone right before I got here too. My mom.” 

This, he can tell, is not acting. Your eyes flicker to a polaroid strapped in the space underneath the top bunk above your head, two blurry figures huddled together in a memory.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what to say. In the silence that follows, he swallows audibly. Everyone’s been worried about Annabeth, including himself that he hadn’t even thought of his own emotions being on display for everyone to see. Luke never thought you of all people would notice.

You shrug, “S’not your fault. I know when people are acting though. If you know I’m the one who’s been starting shit, why haven’t you told anyone?”

Luke almost laughs at that, a rough exhale leaving his lungs as he watches your hands clutch your quilt.

“It’s pretty entertaining, I guess. You’re annoying, but I don’t mind it. Kept my mind off of things.”

He watches you smile in the shadows now, and it shines—all lips, teeth, and sheer mirth that makes his chest feel a little lighter. A real smile from you, one that doesn’t hide your true intentions.

“I’m glad. Mine too.” 

The next thing you do confuses him further, but from what he’s gathered you’re always full of surprises. You chuck your quilt across the space between your bunks, and the end of it smacks him in the face as he grunts.

“Here. Keep it,” you chuckle a bit loudly, the both of you hearing a Shhhhh… from somewhere in the dark cabin.

“What… Why? Are we friends now?” Luke mumbles jokingly, inhaling the soft scent of berries and fresh linen. His purple laundry load smelled like this too.

“No.”

“Then why are you giving me your stuff?” he says, but still curls up underneath the handmade quilt stitched from memories of a past life, of motherly love and gentle hands. He doesn’t have anything like this, so he settles into this feeling of comfort instead, even if it wasn’t his memory to hold. You go quiet at the sight of him, eyes fluttering and chin tucked into the pink and purple fabric, and he looks as soft as a normal 14 year old boy should.

“It’s getting boring in here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think,” you mumble, turning away and shutting your eyes before he can say anything else.

—

The next day, you get caught putting a month’s supply of bubble bath into the lake, but Luke’s convinced you did it on purpose. All of camp is standing on the shore, watching you wave at them from a river tube as Chiron and Mr. D yell at you in exasperation—finally revealing yourself as the troublemaker they’ve been searching for.

“Get on the beach this instant, young lady! You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put us through!” Mr. D’s voice echoes across the lake, his immortal form almost filtering through his frustration before you laugh in his face, unthreatened by the Olympian.

“Good thing I get it from you. Hello, dad!”

Jaws drop as everyone turns to look at Mr. D, the realization hitting his face as he points at you, his brain moving a mile a minute. Though you resemble your mother, your actions are all him. You revel in the grand reaction, looking up to see a purple thyrsus surrounded by grape leaves float over your head.

“Nice outfit, kid. I don’t think purple is your color. She do that to you too?” Mr. D notes Luke’s wine colored cargos and socks clashing against the harsh orange of his shirt as he pushes past him, scratching his head at the idea of another kid. Poor guy said two was the limit in a lifetime and he gets a grinning teenage girl who dares him to do something about it. He hasn’t raised a lot of girls….

“I don’t know. I guess trouble always seems to find me,” Luke laughs lightly, watching kids of all ages jump into the bubbly lake water happily. The glowing ember of his eyes are relaxed for the first time in a while— an inviting flame catching your own as you stare at him from across the sudsy water. Trouble, he thinks, a smile settling onto his face—how fitting.

He’s spent a lot of time running. But perhaps this time, he’s finding reasons to want to stay.

—

"After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal." - Sylvia Plath

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[chelleztjs18]

Spiraling Thoughts (W.M)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Wanda's spiraling thoughts get between both of you.

Warning: Hurt/Comfort angst, swearing words.

Requested: Yes

A/N: Hello! Another post, another angst from me. I didn't proof read this, sorry in advance for typos. More angsts are on their way :D Anyway, happy reading!

Main Masterlist

Happy and excited. That’s how you feel right now because today is the day you have been waiting for. You have been crossing the dates on the calendar to today’s date. A red “Moving day!” is written on the calendar.

You have packed all your belongings. Stacks of boxes are ready. Your brain tells you that you might need two trips to drive all of them with your car to Wanda’s place.

You have been dating Wanda for an amazing year and a half. Both of you are head over heels in love with each other. You have been giving hints for a few months that you are ready to move in together. Since then, it has been the talk you both have. A month ago, your girlfriend finally agreed to live together.

You are so thrilled and Wanda is happy if you are happy. She knows it from how much you talk about it.

Since then, Wanda has been reorganizing her place for your belongings to fit in. She loves simplicity, her place wasn’t the biggest but it was enough for her to live alone. Wanda tried to prepare everything for you when the day came. Being the overthinking she is, she even did some research on do’s and don'ts or tips for this relationship’s big change.

“I’ll be leaving soon. See you soon,babe!” you texted her. Wanda checks the time then puts her phone down disappointedly. You are late again. The only thing about you that she doesn’t like. Wanda is a punctual person, she hates being late. To watch you being late or waiting for someone who is late is torture to her. Every second slowly but surely irritates her even though she tries not to.

Wanda’s mind starts to spiral before she knows it. All other anxious thoughts force their way to re-exist.

She starts to think what if she has to deal more about being late because of this certain bad habit of yours. What if there are other untolerable habits or differences that show up after both of you living together for some time that might have a domino effect in her relationship with you? Or what if all of this is too soon? Is she actually ready for this? Or is she just doing this to make you happy? What happens if things don’t work out between both of you?

What if…? What if..? What if..? These two words are really pushing Wanda’s to the edge. Her heartbeat starts to double in speed. Her fingertips start to get colder and her hands seem to shake. It’s getting harder for her to breathe. Emotions slowly overfill her heart and mind.

Your Sokovian girlfriend is panicked and scared by now from her overthinking mind. Everything seems spinning. The ticking from the clock on the wall sounds louder gradually in her mind breaking the muffled sound around her. An hour later, the doorbell finally lets her get a break from everything she is experiencing.

Wanda rushes to the door even though her steps feel so heavy. She knows it must be you with all of your stuff, moving in with her. Oh dear, the closer she gets to the door, the heavier her heart feels. Thoughts flash in her mind for a second, the thoughts that you for sure don’t want to hear.

“Hi babe!.” You greet her followed by an apology as you give her a hug. An awkward smile curved on her face. Wanda tries to hold back her spiraling feelings, she is trying hard.

Wanda hugs you back but you know her pretty well, you notice even the slight difference but you try not to overthink. “Y/n, you are late again.” Flat yet irritated was her tone no matter how much she tried to hide it. Wanda glances at the boxes in your car to avoid your gaze whenever you try to look at her.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m working on my punctuality more, Wanda. I promise.” you apologized. You thought that being late was the reason why Wanda seems a little off.

“Well, that’s what you promised three months ago and still, nothing changed.” a snarky comment forced its way out of her lips and you got caught off guard by it. Your forehead creases your eyes while you mind quickly try to figure out what’s going on.

“I’m sorry, Wanda.”

The view of her shrugging her shoulders and her smile slides down to a frown as she turns around then walks away from you. “Wanda, what’s wrong?” you ask and follow her.

Wanda picks up her pace a little to be away from you. “Nothing.” That was all her answer to you. Again, her eyes avoid yours. Everytime you get closer to her, Wanda would move further from you. Walking around from one room to another, she cleans randomly as her steps shift from one spot to another.

“I don’t think we should bring your boxes in yet, detka.” Wanda suggests. Your stomach churns a little after hearing her idea. You love hearing her calling you with any pet names but this time, you are not a fan of it because of the tone.

“Why?” Your eyebrows furrowed. You are waiting for her answer anxiously, standing behind her.

“I’m still cleaning this house, Y/n. That’s why.” Wanda’s tone is slowly filled by such resentment. Her voice raises a little.

“Wanda, the house looks fine and very clean. I know you pretty well. You are cleaning randomly, moving around from one spot to another right now. You only do it when you are upset or something bothers you.”

“No, I’m fine. We can just keep your stuff in your car tonight until I’m done with this house.” Wanda’s tone gets colder.

“Wait, what? What did you mean? Keep them in my car overnight?” your forehead puckered in confusion. “You heard me.” she responds while continuing whatever she is doing with a pout that looks more and more obvious.

“What about my clothes and—” you try to get more clues on what’s going on but Wanda didn’t let you finish. “You can wear mine or borrow whatever you need..”

“But, you told me that everything’s ready. I even made sure with you yesterday about today and you said yes. Something is off, Wanda. Tell me, what’s wrong?” you rambled.

“Nothing..is wrong, y/n.” Wanda denied all your words. You noticed she looks way more unease. You follow her yet Wanda still avoids you from being too close to her.

“No, something is wrong Wanda. You smile differently. You–”

“Y/n..” she calls.

“You didn’t hug me the way you usually do. You–”

“What are you talking about?” Wanda tackled your assumption with the pretend confusion.

“Yeah, you know what I meant, Wanda. You clean randomly and—”

“Oh come on! What stupid theory was that? You should’ve known me, for crying out loud! I..love..to clean.” Wanda lets out her irritation and anger through the way she puts down things.

“You clean loudly. Sometimes you put things or close stuff loudly when you are upset.” you lined up more supportive examples. Wanda walks away from her bedroom to the living room, leaving you but you are determined to get the answer. “Fuck, y/n. Just please stop.” Despite the curse word, Wanda still tries to suppress her voice that’s raising up angrily as she starts to feel cornered.

You take a spot in front of her to block her path of avoidance.“No. No. I won’t stop until I get my answer. What’s going on? Why on earth that all of sudden I can't unload the boxes. I’m really confused right now. There’s–”

She didn’t let you finish once more. “I already told you why.” she gives you a second of death glance before she takes the sideway to walk away from you again.

“Yes, you did but it wasn’t the truth Wanda. You lied. Are you getting cold feet about us living together?” Just like that, your question instantly stopped Wanda and she snapped as she turned around to you.

“What if I am?!” Wanda can no longer keep herself together. She finally spilled the painful truth. meanwhile you are too shocked to respond to it. A soft gasp forced its way to be heard. You swallow hard and your heart drops in a millisecond before the brunette continues to pour her thoughts out.

“What if I’m freaking out right now? This whole thing is too soon, too early or whatever we can call it.” words after words and thoughts after thoughts flowed in such anger the more her mind thought about it.

“Too soon? Wanda, you agreed about this. We have been talking about us living together. We plan this. I thought you wanted it to happen as much as I wanted to?” you argue back with a pinch of genuine confusion.

“Do i, y/n? Or was I on board with it just because you keep giving me hints of what you want? You wanted the truth, right? There it is!” Wanda places both of her hands on her hips as she looks away just so you won’t catch her eyes slowly turning glossy from tears.

After a few seconds of pausing her words, she continued. “You were late coming here, it’s your habit. We both know that. What if you never change? What if there are other things, habits or — or — or differences that trigger us to argue? Imagine if we turn to that couple who fight constantly. What if it doesn’t work out for us?”

Your head hangs low, you look down somewhere random. Anywhere but her eyes. You shake your head slowly followed by a disbelief chuckle. “Wow, you talked like I WILL be or I am the cause that everything won’t work out between us in the future while you are actually the one that shattered the dream that we had. Oh I’m sorry, babe. Let me rephrase that, MY dream, not yours.” you lift up your head and look at her eyes mid sentence and let sarcasm end it.

Your heart aches. In your point of view, Wanda is being unfair to you and it provokes more words out of you. “So you changed your mind?”

Her voice fills the room before the deafening silence ate it all up. You can hear her take a harsh breath. “Y/n—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Wanda.” you demand her answer as you keep looking at her.

Wanda clenches her jaw in silence but it was an obvious shortcut to reach your conclusion. It was enough for you to dig out the answer.

“Y/n, can you just—” Wanda once more trying to avoid your question but you are not having it.

“Leave? Don’t worry, Wanda. I will. I’m gonna go home.” With that, you turn around and walk towards the door. You were hoping that she will try to stop you from leaving but a gut twisting fact shows that she doesn’t even try and just stands there, looking down in an expression that you can’t really decipher. You slammed the door as you walked out that made Wanda flinch a little.

What just happened? Is it over? Was I being selfish? What on earth is going on? Both of you are lost in your own thoughts and questions with no answers. Despite all the thoughts, Wanda stays where she is. She doesn’t know what she feels right now, everything is overwhelming for her even until right this second. She feels drained and tears slowly fill up to the brim of her eyes. Every beat of her heart hurt her. The room feels like an airtight box. Her knees laden. Without her control, the tears finally rolled down her cheeks.

Your brain is multitasking between thinking and focusing on driving. Your knuckles turn white from squeezing the steering wheel as you drive. The more you look at the boxes that are reflected on the back mirror of your car, the more heartache you feel. The day that was supposed to be one of the happiest days in your relationship with Wanda went downhill in a blur. It all happened so fast, too fast actually. Your mind is still processing everything that just happened on your whole way back to your place.

This was the first big fight ever in your relationship and Wanda.

_____

You and Wanda give each other space for two days. That one text she sent you and you didn't reply, Wanda took it as you needed your time alone.

While waiting in silence, Wanda starts to ponder, not just one but many things. Everything that happened that day kept playing in her head over and over again bringing her sense to the surface.

Wanda slowly admits to herself that she was too harsh on you and her anxiety got the best of her. Guilt starts to build up in her heart. Her mind has been filled up with everything about you. Without you, Wanda feels empty and she doesn’t like how it feels when you are not around her. Her heart is longing for your presence and affection. She misses the cheerful side of you that always breaks the silence around the house. All your jokes, laughs and your companion always make her days so meaningful

Wanda’s memory starts to remind her that you indeed have tried your best to fix the bad habits for her as much as she does for you. RIght now, she feels like a fool for forgetting about it.

A week has passed, the more she tries to give you the space and time you need, the harder it gets for her and the more she misses you. Her love for you finally conquered all of her overthinking thoughts. She knows she can’t live without you. Wanda loves you too much to lose you.

_____

With a heavy heart, you just started unpacking the first sealed box that you brought to Wanda's house.

You exhaled harshly right after you heard a knock on your apartment door. You are really not in the mood for having visitors but you get up anyway just in case it’s something important. You see Wanda through the peeping hole.

You stayed quiet behind the door and decided not to answer it. You hear another knock and Wanda softly talks. “Detka, it’s me. Please open the door for me.” You can’t deny that you miss her with every bit in you. As much as you want to let her in, you are still hurt with what happened.

“I know you are in there, y/n. It’s your day off today and I see your car too.” Wanda paused for a little bit and waited for your answer.

Your heart feels heavier from hearing her tone that sounds sadder second by second.

“Y/n, sweetheart, please. I need to tell you that I’m sorry, truly sorry. I miss you. Please let me talk with you.” Wanda’s voice turns shakier while trying to keep herself together from all the sadness and pain she is having from her guilt. You see her through the peeping hole one more time only to find her wiping her tears. It was just a little tear but you know it’s a lot for her.

Wanda heard you finally unlock the door and it’s slowly ajar. She sees you turn your back on her as she walks in. Sparky runs to you and you pet him for a little bit. Wanda waits for you to turn around and see her.

A smile instantly shows up at the same time with her emotional tears as soon as you turn around. “Hi, my love.” she pauses her words once more. The pet name she just called you with 

“Hi.. you–uh you lost your spare key?” you ask. You really want to hug Wanda, you don’t like seeing her green eyes get all teary but you hope your small sarcastic question will hide it.

“No, I still have it but I just didn’t want to just walk in here unannounced just in case you– you don’t want to see me.” Wanda slowly lets out her understanding answer. Her eyes search for yours.

You always love how Wanda is so thoughtful and respect your personal space too. It hits you too, some guilt slowly shows up.

Wanda notices the box that you were unpacking. Her lips slightly open in surprise.

“Are you unpacking the boxes?” she asked awkwardly.

“Yeah, I have to.” you start to make yourself look busy to avoid more eye contact with her. You unpack more boxes and walk around just like Wanda did.

Wanda’s reaction is different from yours. She quickly grabs your wrist gently but firm enough to catch your attention.

“Y/n, I have something to say. Can you look at me please?”

Her sad tone finally drags your eyes to her glossy green eyes. "Okay, Wanda. I'm all ears." you stated.

Wanda takes a deep breath slowly as she holds your hands before she starts her ramble. “I’m so sorry for how I was and what I said that day. My–my anxiety and overthinking got the best of me. I should’ve talked about it with you in a better way. I promise I will work on my overthinking and will talk about it together.” She pauses while her thumbs rub the back of your hands.

“Days without you really got me thinking. It’s so quiet without you, your voice, even your texts and I don’t like it. I miss us. I miss doing a lot of things with you, I miss your jokes and laugh. I even miss waiting for you to get ready while I’m worried that we are getting late.” Wanda lets out an awkward little chuckle at the end to distract you from noticing her being vulnerable.

You stand closer to her as she continues. “I’m sorry. Please give me another chance. I really don’t like my girlfriend being away from me too long. I promise I’ll work on my bad habits.” Wanda runs her perfect looking fingers through your hair gently. 

Your heart melts under her touches and who can say know to those gorgeous eyes? Not even you. 

“Apology accepted. I will always give you chances because you always do the same to me.” you giggle a little. You put both hands on her shoulders right away after she pulls you closer.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Wanda”

Both of you instantly tangle in a long soft kiss. You miss her sweet lips touching yours. You and Wanda let out relieved sighs in the kiss. She feels alive again having you so close to her. She doesn’t want to lose you anymore but you can feel that she stops the kiss. Wanda pulls her face away from you. She looks at you dearly.

“Did you notice Sparky’s new collar’s tag?” Wanda asked in a whisper.

“No, what is it?” you asked back but your curiosity doesn’t want to wait so you call him only to find him standing behind you.

You turn around to pick him up as you notice his new collar. "Aaw it's a key shape collar with I Love You engraved on it. That's so sweet. Ouh does it mean you want me to move in with you now?" You ask Wanda while giving Sparky some love and not paying attention to what your girlfriend is doing behind you. She chuckles nervously.

"Well, turn it around and check it out." Wanda gives you a clue and shortly after she hears you let out a surprised gasp.

Will you marry me?

It's engraved in the back of Sparky's collar. You quickly turn around only to find Wanda gets on one knee, holding an opened box with a ring in it.

"Malyshka, it has been a great year since you came to my life. Everything has turned so beautiful since then and when we were away that long, I felt devastated. I don't want us to be like that anymore. I promise we will communicate better to work on our bad habits, problems and solve them together. I just want us to grow better and grow old together. I promise I will be a better wife than I was as your girlfriend. Will you marry me, Y/n Y/l/n?" Her eyes twinkle with hope and love for you.

Bubbles of joy burst in you and spread the thrill all over you. Your eyes and Wanda’s get teary at the same time as she sees you smile from ear to ear. You are speechless.

“Is that a yes? Say something please, y/n? Should I take that as a yes?” Row of questions line up out of her. Her hands are a little shaky. Your heart beats faster. You know you blush so hard because you can feel the rush in you. You nod eagerly. “Yes! Of course Yes!”

Both of you start to laugh in tears of happiness and Wanda puts the ring on your finger. You pull her up to hug and kiss her shortly after. Sparky barks and wags his tails. Excitedly licks your cheeks and Wanda’s in turns in the warmest group hug that always feels like home to you.

“Let’s come home, detka.”

“You are my home.” you replied and Wanda sealed your lips with more short loving kisses. Both of you smile in the kisses.

A/N: Welp, that's all from me today. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. Follow me for more.

Cheerio!

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[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　１９

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

── London・Present

＊ Reunion

After Janice’s voice faded away, I remained pensive for a while.

Three years ago.

The moment I met her, I was left in awe.

She was a beautiful woman, much older than me…

But at that time, was it Melina that left such a big impression on me?

Or was it Janice…?

This is one of the puzzles that I have yet to solve.

This had been my first adventure with the professor, and it was a very special one for me.

‘Mr Future Gentleman’

I thought I had just heard her voice again.

“Look, Luke.”

The professor’s voice brought me back to myself. He had two tickets to the ‘Eternal Kingdom’ opera in hand.

It really was just like that time from three years ago.

Though of course, the name of the venue on the ticket was not the ‘Crown Petone’ this time.

Mr Whistler’s face came to my mind.

According to Inspector Grosky, he sometimes plays the piano in prison, bringing tears to the eyes of his fellow inmates.

I heard through the grapevine that Captain O’Donnell and Mr Marco Brock have hit it off since the incident, and often travel together.

Amelia is currently studying abroad at a foreign university.

The letter I received the other day said that she was still very grateful that the professor and I had attended her grandfather’s funeral.

Nina sometimes comes to visit us here, at Gressenheller. She has a very good memory and studies very hard, and I think she might be admitted to college before me…

But I won’t lose to her. Look out for the Future Gentleman and puzzle master, Nina!

Oh, that’s right, Mr Starbuck and Mrs Raidley had their wedding just the other day. The gossip magazines made it a really big deal.

And I’m currently reading Annie Dretche’s latest mystery. I’m so excited, I can’t stop reading it!

Annie once told me that she has been writing mysteries much faster than before for the sake of Mr Bargland. That way, he would have something to read while he spends his spare time at the hospital…

And then…

There was a knock at the door. Who could it be? Perhaps a client for some new exciting mystery to solve.

The professor and I got up from our chairs at the same time and headed for the entrance.

But as soon as I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat.

“Janice…”

I was dazzled by her smile. It looked just like the one I had seen three years ago…

　⇚　　　　　　　↛

And this completes the fan-translation of the official Eternal Diva novel, everyone! Man, this sure was something. A lot of work, a lot of tears and sweat, a lot of good surprises. Who knows what the future has in store for us now!

...Hm? What's that? Another novel? Let's see...We've seen a lot of blue lately, perhaps a change of colour would do us all some good. How about green? Green sounds nice, right?

Yup. Illusory Forest it is, baby. See y'all next week for a brand new adventure, and one that most of you never have gotten to experience before at that 👀

Oh, also, I'm just going to say before we let Ambrosia go back to its eternal sleep: this thing has followed me up until the very end of my PhD. I defended my thesis, like. TODAY. Just A FEW HOURS AGO.

At the exact time this post is coming out, I am likely going to still be stuck at the lab managing the mini-quiches for the party or something of the like, hahaha. So... yeah, I guess I'm a doctor now? In theoretical chemistry, that is. Yay? Yeah, let's go with yay :D

(and I hope that future me won't happen to be told a random "actually no ur work sucks you failed lol" on that very day and the party prevents me from editing this post in order to bring the bad news, that'd be awkward lmao)

[cozyhatchling]

Aww! I just read your little Kaveh headcanons! I was wondering if you had an idea of what would happen if Kaveh got lost cuz he didn't hold Alhaitham's hand. I wanna draw a little thing but I can't think rn (hope dis makes sense lol)

Ahh, I'm so glad you liked it! I was just gonna do some headcanons but ended up writing a little drabble, hehe~

Little Kaveh and Carer Alhaitham Fic:

Hold My Hand

Kaveh was having an absolutely fantastic day.

Going out with Alhaitham was a good day in and of itself, but today was particularly special; one of Kaveh's favorite museums had been closed for renovations for nearly two years, and it had just reopened the previous weekend. Alhaitham (who was incredibly thoughtful despite insisting otherwise) had surprised Kaveh with tickets to see the new exhibits, and the pair had chosen today for their visit.

They had been exploring the museum for hours, but Kaveh was still overflowing with happy energy even as the sun began to dip below the tops of nearby buildings. An announcement that the museum would be closing in fifteen minutes echoed through the halls, passing in one of Kaveh's ears and right out the other.

"Haitham, look!" Kaveh pointed toward an advertisement for an exhibit further down a long hallway: it was a huge scale model of one of Kaveh's favorite ancient buildings in the city. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he scampered away down the hall and turned a few corners until he reached his destination several rooms away.

The model was just as spectacular as Kaveh could have ever hoped. He poured over all the little details, circling around the exhibit and reading all the plaques, babbling excitedly and pointing at parts he recognized.

"Haitham! Isn't this the best?" Kaveh bounced happily as he turned back to his partner, only to find himself alone in the room. Excitement immediately drained from his mind, replaced with cold anxiety at being left alone. The last vestiges of adulthood his brain was clinging to fell away, and suddenly the empty room felt huge and terrifying.

"H-haitham?" No response. "Dada? Dada!" Kaveh ran to the entrance of the room, trying and failing to hold back the tears that filled his eyes when all he saw beyond the doorway was yet another empty room. It was very close to closing time now, and imagining himself locked away in the dark all alone had Kaveh bawling openly in seconds.

"D-dada!" he sobbed, standing frozen in the doorway, eyes screwed shut and hands clenched in the front of his shirt. He was spiralling, small and alone, until-

"Kaveh!"

Kaveh's eyes popped open and his crying momentarily ceased as he was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. It took only a split-second of processing before he recognized his dada's arms around him, and his tears began again, this time filled with relief. He clung to Alhaitham's shirt and sobbed into his shoulder as his carer slowly rubbed his back.

"Kaveh, you know not to run off like that..." Alhaitham's voice was low but not angry. He gave Kaveh a few more moments to calm down, then moved away so he could gently wipe the tears from his baby's cheeks. "This is why you always hold my hand, remember?"

"S-sorry, Dada... Didn't mean to..." Kaveh, scared his dada was mad at him, nearly started crying again, but Alhaitham stopped that line of thought with a quick kiss to Kaveh's forehead.

"I'm not mad at you, Kav. I was just worried." The taller man straightened up and took Kaveh's hand firmly in his. "The museum is closing soon; how about we head home, and we can come back and explore more another day."

The prospect of returning to the museum later cheered Kaveh somewhat, and he followed Alhaitham toward the entrance with little fuss. His head still felt fuzzy and small, but his dada's warm hand in his assured him that he was safe and all was well. He knew that Alhaitham would always take care of him; even though others might see the man as distant or even cold, Kaveh knew the gentle, kind carer beneath, and loved Alhaitham for it.

By the time they exited the museum, the sun had fully set, and the city was lighting up around them. Alhaitham pulled Kaveh into his side, sheltering him from the winter chill. Kaveh peered up at him, eyes hopeful.

"Dada? When we get home, can we have soup an' playtime?"

Alhaitham sighed. "You aren't tired out yet?"

Kaveh grinned; he saw right through Alhaitham's apparent exasperation. "Nuh-uh!"

"...Fine then. But you can't complain when Dada says it's bedtime, alright?"

Kaveh nodded and smiled brightly. Though the cold fear of his earlier ordeal hadn't melted completely, it was being thawed by the prospect of his warm home and comforting partner. Kaveh leaned into Alhaitham's side, relaxing against the man as his mind drifted toward happier thoughts.

I'm not a huge fan of the ending, but I think this turned out alright, I hope you like it!

If anyone would like to request headcanons, check out this post! (They won't be full fics like this, just lists.) I also have an ask game active~

Thanks for reading!

[darsynia]

Nearer, My God, To Thee | Stony | Ch. 1

STORY MASTERLIST | TONY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST NEXT

Written for ZaraMelMercury as a part of @tonysbirthdaygala

Summary: Steve Rogers appreciated his unexpected promotion to Fourth Officer-- until it became clear that it was more about being a novelty American-born officer of the White Star Line than it was about his skill at the job. After another frustrating shift attending to First Class, he was rescued by the devilishly handsome Tony Stark, a notoriously brilliant troublemaker annoyed by his own role as the most tempting eligible bachelor on the ship.

Stark suggested a mutually beneficial agreement-- Steve would stand as a duty-borne chaperone to Tony's worst tendencies, thus saving Steve from endless hours of small talk in First Class. As soon as they shook on it, however, both realized their partnership carried much more potential. Length/Warnings: 3,603 words // light D/s themes For @the-slumberparty prompt: "I'm the reason you're still alive"

Note: After years of being captivated by the wreck itself and the stories therein, I couldn't resist choosing a Titanic AU after seeing my giftee's request involving hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, and historical AU! Please note that this is not based on Jack & Rose from the film-- a Stony retelling of that already exists.

This is a fast burn, passionate romance between two people who happen to have met at one of the worst possible times. It's been pure joy to write, and I am so delighted to share it with you now!

Tags: @chickensarentcheap @linnadhiell @sobeautifullyobsessed

Excerpt:

“You look like you could bend metal, with a grip like that,” an amused voice said from behind him.

Steve released the rail, noting the stiffness in his hands. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said as he turned toward the speaker. The man was impeccably dressed, with facial hair that brought to mind a mythological satyr, but the most compelling thing about him was his eyes. Where every other inch of him spoke of elegance, class, and condescension, this gentleman’s eyes were warm and kind.

The man’s eyebrows lifted, and Steve realized he was staring. He stammered an apology using the only thing he could think of. In the handsome stranger’s breast pocket sat an elaborately embroidered handkerchief, the perfectly-even blue stitches standing out proudly in swirls and knots on the white cloth.

“Forgive me, your handkerchief has caught my--”

“Oh, this old thing?” The man’s accent was American, but he affected a British one for his interruption, patting at the distinctive object. “It’s my signature. I’m never without it. Tony Stark, prince of industry, at your visual service,” he said, dipping his head in a small bow. His lips were twisted in a clearly amused smile that suited his devilish look perfectly.

Chapter One: There let the way appear, steps unto heaven

Being a Fourth Officer on the Titanic was a point of pride for Steve Rogers, even though in practice he spent more time in First Class keeping the rich passengers happy than fulfilling his maritime duties. Lightoller had already pulled him aside to ‘freshen’ his serious expressions into friendlier ones. He’d been reminded that there were no other American-born officers at his level, and that he was doing the White Star Line a service by offering their wealthy American guests ‘the sound of home.’

Steve knew better than to object that his accent had nothing to do with his skill at his job, and neither did the small talk with the Rothschilds or Astors. He kept his uneasiness at bay by stepping out onto the First Class deck space, hoping the brisk air would help calm his mood.

As always, his excitement to see his childhood friend once he arrived in New York kept Steve going; saying goodbye to Bucky Barnes was one of the hardest things about moving to London from America. Their letters to each other came few and far between, particularly now, with Buck in the Army, and Steve at sea. 

For a man of limited means, working his way up at White Star was one of the only ways he could get to see his friend again. The promotion to Fourth Officer had been a last-minute surprise, but as much as he hated being cynical, it seemed that it was driven more by a hope to placate passengers than anything useful.

Once a half hour had passed, he was still frustrated. As they had the day before, the passengers outdoors had been delighted to call him over to stand quietly in his uniform as they chatted to each other. It seemed that his duty time on the bridge every day was to be his only respite from the upper classes.

“You look like you could bend metal, with a grip like that,” an amused voice said from behind him.

Steve released the rail, noting the stiffness in his hands. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said as he turned toward the speaker. The man was impeccably dressed, with facial hair that brought to mind a mythological satyr, but the most compelling thing about him was his eyes. Where every other inch of him spoke of elegance, class, and condescension, this gentleman’s eyes were warm and kind.

The man’s eyebrows lifted, and Steve realized he was staring. He stammered an apology using the only thing he could think of. In the handsome stranger’s breast pocket sat an elaborately embroidered handkerchief, the perfectly-even blue stitches standing out proudly in swirls and knots on the white cloth.

“Forgive me, your handkerchief has caught my--”

“Oh, this old thing?” The man’s accent was American, but he affected a British one for his interruption, patting at the distinctive object. “It’s my signature. I’m never without it. Tony Stark, prince of industry, at your visual service,” he said, dipping his head in a small bow. His lips were twisted in a clearly amused smile that suited his devilish look perfectly.

“Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers, sir. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Too late, Steve realized he used the convention of a regular introduction, not the more deferential one for men who were not equals. Before he could apologize, Stark waved him off.

“They’ve got you parading through here at every opportunity, it’s only natural you slip into a more familiar greeting. I won’t reveal your mistake if you don’t reveal mine.”

Steve was out of his element; Stark embodied a certain First Class playfulness without somehow grating on Steve’s nerves. Most of the others just gave Steve barely a glance, maybe a nod of recognition of his rank and then moved on, but not Stark.

The man in question lifted his head and sniffed in a full breath of the crisp sea air. He seemed disappointed. “You aren’t going to ask me what the mistake is, are you?”

“With respect, no sir. I am not.”

Stark’s sudden grin hit Steve in the gut in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “Good. I haven’t done it yet. I’ll let you know.”

A young woman walked over to Stark to engage him in conversation. She fully ignored Steve, which was more familiar ground. He stood politely with one hand on the railing, but to his shock, Stark reached back as though bracing himself-- except, he not quite. His hand, undoubtedly precisely placed, was now pinning Steve’s uniform cuff to the railing.

The move was so unhurried, so casually dismissive, that Steve would have been convinced it was exactly as it appeared, if it hadn’t been for Stark’s behavior in the following conversation.

The young woman was dreadfully dull, and his witting captor seemed to offload his annoyance in being stuck listening to her by feigning fascination. Every few minutes, the clever man’s hand slid further in Steve’s direction, taking Steve’s with it by necessity-- and every few minutes, the expression on Stark’s face grew more like a caricature of interest than it had before. 

Tony Stark was practically embracing him by the time the young lady said something cutting and flounced off.

“That,” Stark sighed, “--was almost worth it.”

Without explaining what he meant, he stepped back and looked at Steve with a narrow-eyed speculation that made something tighten in Steve’s chest. The ache in his arm was gone in an instant.

“Am I right in assuming you’re tired of playing the toy soldier?”

The right thing to do would be to school his face to impassivity and espouse his duty, but the words died in Steve’s throat. He didn’t want to lie to Stark. Still, his loyalty was to his superiors, and--

Stark clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t choke on the platitudes, man! I understand you perfectly.” 

“My apologies,” Steve tried, but the other man shushed him.

“You’re here for my amusement second, and the pride of the Line first, I know. Speaking of the former-- did you know my father is an inveterate womanizer?”

All Steve could do was work to prevent his face from showing shock. This seemed enough for Stark, however.

“I am, of course, following in his esteemed footsteps, but for some reason, my dear papa finds that irritating. He deals with it by lobbing marriageable young women in my direction at every opportunity.” Stark turned to rest his forearms on the railing. “Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other.”

Steve thought about being asked to step into a conversation with any of the young, unmarried women of First Class. The resulting nausea prompted him to turn and face the sea as well, once again gripping the metal tightly.

“Precisely!” Stark said, nudging his elbow with his own. “That was unkind of me. My intention is to ask my father to intercede, state that I’m volatile--” He stopped, pulling out a pipe to absently shift between his fingers. “I am, of course --and ask for an escort, a goodwill gesture to protect the reputations of both passengers and ship. A respectable Sub-Lieutenant such as yourself would be a fine choice, even if you weren’t begging for death with every successive minute you spend in First Class.”

A whistle sounded before Steve could formulate his response. Stark slapped his empty hand on the railing decisively, tucking away the pipe.

“The womenfolk will spruce themselves up before luncheon, meaning I am free to speak with Major Butt about getting the President’s ear for our business. I have no intention of drawing you into my scheme if you’re unwilling, so what do you say?”

Steve took a moment to contemplate, and Stark’s patience during those seconds did a lot to recommend him. The man was certainly engaging, and the respite he was offering was too enticing to give up. “If by ‘scheme,’ you mean your intention to request myself as a personal escort, sir, I am willing.”

“Good man! I’ll speak with my father, then. Do us both a favor and appear exceedingly boring and unruffled by anything I say and do, eh? In public, I mean. In private, I’d expect you to treat me as an equal.” 

Stark’s warm eyes and smile of approval sparked something in Steve’s chest, something not entirely made of pride. The ‘out of his element’ feeling returned, for a different reason, now-- but this he could do. Protect this fascinating man from the very things Steve himself was intimidated by? Absolutely. Spend more time together? Please. The chance to escape the strictures of toy soldierdom was a side benefit.

“I can, sir.”

Stark almost ruined things for both of them by reaching out and grasping Steve’s hand for a second. The facade of politeness on Stark’s face faded as quickly as the veneer of cold duty did on Steve’s. There was coalfire in that grip, enough to warm his entire body.

It was sheer luck that most of the passengers had already sought to move inside, and didn’t see them.

Steve was summoned by his superiors an hour before dinner.

“You’re to have priority for laundry, Rogers, as I’m certain you have but one dress uniform, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Howard Stark has requested to speak with you, something about his son and wanting a companion among the officers to keep him in line,” Murdock said. “Tell me now if you have any objections to get out of the way before I send you down to accept?”

That was loud and clear. “No objections, sir.”

“Good. Run and change into your best, then.” The First Officer made a face as he looked him head to toe. “I’ll do my best to find you some pieces to supplement with. If you’re to spend every waking moment with that upstart son of his, you’ll need them.”

The words ‘every waking moment’ fumbled Steve’s fingers on his buttons as he changed clothing in his cramped compartment. Thanks to his efforts in keeping quiet, his sleeping crewmates barely stirred, which was the most kindness he could offer given the lamplight he’d flooded the room with. He wondered if he’d be similarly able to filter out Tony Stark’s light in the days to come. The other man had been perceptive, and his provocative questions had sent Steve’s mind reeling even before he’d realized he was physically attracted.

He’d thought those feelings were behind him, in truth. Years working his way up in maritime commerce meant years surrounded by other men, and nothing had stirred. In a few brief moments, Tony Stark had brushed away the cobwebs, shining his bright smile into the darkest corners of Steve’s mind.

Steve looked down at himself, realizing he’d paused for contemplation at the very worst of times. Well, Stark had implied he would be a bad influence.

Once finished, Steve was painfully conscious of both his need to hurry and the desire to appear calm and unruffled. After all, a hurrying seaman on a ship such as this was liable to concern the passengers, and that was not at all appropriate. 

He got to the designated suite of cabins and checked his pocket watch. He was right on time, which was a relief. Steve thumbed the empty place where the picture of his mother used to reside. It fell out in Southampton, and he wouldn’t be able to replace it until he was safely back in England.

Howard Stark turned out to be the back-slapping, gregarious sort. His son was nowhere to be seen, and Steve soon understood why-- Stark Sr. wanted to give him the third degree, asking about his childhood (he dearly missed Brooklyn), his hobbies (Steve kept his sketchbook double bagged at sea), even his love life (nonexistent and not looking). As the time passed, Steve’s legs hurt from holding himself so stiffly, and the thought occurred that Stark couldn’t possibly ask such invasive questions of the young women he sent after his son.

Then again, perhaps the younger Stark was right about his father’s view of women, and he wasn’t sending them over to share Tony’s mind, just his--

An internal door burst open, revealing Tony himself, a long metal tool of some sort in his hand. “Damned thing was locked! Imagine if I had to evacuate! You might have needed to look sideways at my mother to perpetuate the dynasty.”

Howard Stark’s demeanor closed off immediately, and his eyes rolled skyward at Tony’s impudence. “The dynasty is just fine, I’m planning to entrust it to this young man’s capable hands.”

The words may have been spoken with a clear intent to chastise, but with Howard’s back turned to his son, Steve was treated to the full glory of Tony’s reaction. His eyes widened in obvious delight, and one side of his mouth turned up, emphasizing his unique goatee in a way that felt decidedly naughty.

“I hope that means I’ve met with your approval, sir?” Steve said, his heart racing in his chest at the possible double meaning.

“Did you ask him about his hopes and dreams when he was a lad?” Tony asked, coming over to look Steve over as if he were a piece of merchandise. He was carrying the handkerchief that had caught Steve’s eye, and made sure to flick it in his direction a few times, much to his father’s annoyance.

“It’s for your own good, not that you know anything about such things,” Howard griped. “Well, young man, I see that you’re in your dress uniform. Since a different officer shared our table at dinner yesterday, it will be no unusual thing for you to appear there tonight.”

“Am I appropriately dressed? I haven’t shined my shoes since we disembarked, and I--”

Tony’s hand came down on his shoulder from behind as a brusque embrace. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! He’s worried about decorum. This will be fun.” The words were dismissive, but the reassuring squeeze at his shoulder before Tony moved away hinted that it was an act.

Dinner was simultaneously boring and exciting, depending on where Steve allowed his gaze. The scattered nature of seating at the table meant that Steve was across from Tony, who was only a seat away from his father. That left Tony able to make subtle faces behind his fork which Steve was obligated to remain composed in the face of. There was something so captivating about his impropriety, the kind of freedom that Steve could only dream of having.

He ignored the number of nightmares he'd had over the years that involved breaking protocol and reaping the consequences.

Howard’s interrogation made more sense now. An impressionable, fashionable young woman with the need to make a wealthy match would find it near-impossible to resist Tony Stark’s specific charms. The question was, did Howard have other concerns? Was Steve one of a long line of ‘reputation minders?’

“Sub-Lieutenant?”

Steve started in surprise, looking up to see the entire table’s faces arrayed toward him. He’d been staring down at his bowl for so long the shape was burned in for a few seconds. Tony’s expression was smug, as though he knew he was the cause of the woolgathering.

“My apologies,” Steve said, covering his discomfort by touching his lips with his napkin. 

“Not at all!” one of the women at the table said kindly. “I confess I forget the question. Someone called out your name in concern you were fatigued, I believe?”

Thinking quickly, Steve decided to go for a kind of flattery. “I’m embarrassed to say I am not. I was caught up in memories of other lively conversations, which made me think of friends I haven’t seen for a long while.”

“I hadn’t considered that!” Mrs. Astor exclaimed. “It’s much harder to see them as often, when you’re away aboard ship, isn’t it?” 

The unspoken sentiment that finances were the real impediment hung uncomfortably in the air for a few seconds, and Steve didn’t dare look over at Tony as he nodded.

“The prestige of this voyage should set you up nicely for years, I imagine,” Howard remarked, and the conversation passed to other things. Steve didn’t dare look over at Tony for the rest of the meal, but after a good ten minutes of this, he did notice more noises coming from the table across from him.

The impish man seemed to be baiting him. Steve’s instincts told him he’d be most rewarded by remaining stoic, just as Tony had instructed on the deck earlier that day. It was the first time he’d chosen to be cool and professional because it was exciting, rather than out of duty.

He only slipped up once, but the image of Tony Stark slouching petulantly in his chair, a golden fork in his fingers mid-strike against his plate for the fifth time in a row was well worth the split-second glance.

Unfortunately for the man in question, he was busy speaking to his father and missed it.

When the ladies and gentlemen broke to spend time in their respective after-dinner areas, Steve made his way over to the Stark men for instructions. Tony was already agitated when he got there.

“--tedious, and you know it. It’ll be better for business if I’m not there.”

“I don’t know how you could come to that conclusion,” Howard said drily.

“Just--” Tony broke off, dropping his gesturing hand to jitter at his side. Then he caught sight of Steve. “Just send me onto the deck to ‘think about’ my behavior at dinner and let Sub-Lieutenant Rogers explain all the maritime terms until my eyelids fall off. He’ll do it, look at him! He’s a statue carved by duty.”

The sharp look Tony shot his way certainly sliced through him, but it wasn’t duty that held the knife.

“Go on, then,” Howard said, lighting his pipe. “Keep him distracted from the ladies, would you, Rogers?” he added before turning to follow the group of esteemed men heading for the smoking room.

“I’m still not looking over at you,” Steve whispered to Tony. The act of even saying that sent his heart racing, and the two of them hadn’t even defined what it was that he was avoiding.

“You’re more nervous than a skittish thoroughbred!” Tony whispered at his back, as Steve led him out onto the promenade deck. There were few others out there, but he kept walking until they were standing at a railing the farthest from the door.

He turned around and anchored himself with one hand on the metal, just as before. His heart sank to see the way his companion couldn’t stand still, his eyes darting about. Was he drunk? 

“Forgive me, Mr. Stark, but were you serious about the equals thing?”

Stark clenched his jaw. “It’s Tony, and yes.”

Using his first name seemed like acknowledging that there was something unspoken, and Steve was ashamed to admit he wasn’t brave enough. He sidestepped the issue by not using any form of address at all. What he wanted to do was confront Tony about his behavior, which seemed the height of reckless disobedience, exactly the thing Howard wanted Steve to curtail. Was this some sort of game?

It wasn’t like him to risk his employer’s reputation with that kind of confrontation. “You didn’t have to do that.” Tony’s furrowed brow and possible inebriation led him to elaborate. “Compli-- Speak of me on such high terms.”

“Oh, it wasn’t just for you. I was starting to worry about whether your smile joints work. Angering my father was gravy.”

“I noticed,” Steve allowed, somewhat mollified. He looked down at his shoes. “You told me to remain impassive.”

He could hear Tony’s grin in his response. “So I did! You were magnificent.”

Did the railing just give under his hand? Because he felt he could only say something this outrageous after a clear moment of goodwill between them, Steve said, “Was that all to get a rise out of me, or your father? With respect, I don’t think I’m a good target for such things.”

Tony stepped closer, his expression sobering. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your candor. Both, I’ll admit. I see now why you might have found it uncomfortable, rather than the game it could have been.” He set his hand next to Steve’s on the railing, without touching. “Can I guess at something?”

Steve nodded.

“The situation made you feel responsible for me, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe that I was misusing my power over you? In creating culpability?”

The reluctance in Steve’s tone turned it gravelly. “Yes.”

“What if I told you I preferred it the other way? That I find it exhausting to always hold the power?”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest on hearing that. In fear, yes, but also some other motivator, one that hid in the shadows of his mind, sometimes warring with his sense of what was right, what was just.

“Rogers?” 

His instincts told him what to say, but did he have the strength?

“I don’t mean to talk past you, do not trouble yourself. Just a gripe on the imbalance of--”

“My name is Steve,” he interrupted Tony. “Please use it.”

He shouldn’t, couldn’t demand, even though there was every indication that Tony wanted him to. The way Tony's whole body froze still for a second made Steve question himself, but then he turned around. The look of joy and relief on his face hit Steve as hard as their first physical touch had.

Next chapter...

Note: I couldn't resist having Tony reference Major Archibald Butt, a first-class passenger and confidante of President Taft. It was the loss of his friend that had Taft so infuriated at the conflicting reports and machinations by the Marconi company regarding the messages of rescued survivors directly after the sinking. I mention it here because not everyone might know of his existence, and that's quite a last name!

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 26: In Which Soft Turns Sharp

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

"I have been in IT for years and I've never once actually seen this happen."

"How does this even happen?"

"It blew up, literally."

"Yo! That's uh... that's a mess."

You were currently standing in the middle of a category 5 disaster. The bottom half of your pants and all of your shoes were completely black; powder-coated by your lovely office printer you were just having words with.

Toner was spewed all over the ugly grey carpet like the remanence of a cartoon explosion. The coworkers and IT tech were standing around amused and befuddled by the whole thing.

Jeff nudged your arm with a giant grin on his face, "did you at least say 'bless you'?"

You wanted to groan.

"No, really though..." Jade, the IT guy asked, "what were you doing again before this happened?"

Another exasperated sigh.

"I've been having communication issues all morning with it and my computer, so after I got sick of trying to repair the connection through my server I came back here to see if perhaps the ethernet was disconnected. It wasn't. Then I was going to get into the settings to see if there was something wrong there, but the screen went all blinky and wobbly, then the fucker shit itself. That's it."

Kind of.

You left out the part where you grabbed the sides of the operating screen in a threat to rip it off it's hinges, then it exploded.

Jade mused on your explanation one more time while the other two morons were drawing finger pictures on the side of the printer with toner.

"Ok - as exciting as this is I'm gunna go and see if I can save my shoes from being stained forever. Bye."

With a huff you kicked off as much toner as you could and immediately headed out the door.

In truth technology had been acting really funky the past few days. First your phone started acting up; the screen would randomly black out while you were using it (the thing was barely a year old so you hoped it wasn't frying already), the location changed on you twice (once it threw you to Paris, the second time to Idaho), and getting your keyboard to work properly was an entire fight all on it's own. You finally turned it off for a couple hours and it seemed to help a little. Then, the clock on your desk started sucking batteries to death. Twice this week you had to change them to keep the damn thing correct. Your work computer had had a couple hiccups and now the printer. Was Mercury in fucking retrograde or some shit???

You didn't bother to tell your boss you were leaving and left the building without saying anything to anyone.

8 days had gone by without Alcina and you were missing her so badly. The bouts of unusual aggression were sporadic and it really wasn't like you, but you just weren't used to such strong feelings about someone and it must be making you a little weird. You guess.

A calmer energy seemed to be following you now but it didn't completely phase out the worry or aggravation. You began to feel better overall since the random muscle attack in your back which helped ease a lot of your tension, but still, you couldn't help but... wonder. You didn't know where she was but somehow she felt closer. You hoped she would be back soon. Sooner than later.

Suddenly your phone began to ring and you reached for it out of your bag.

It was Louis.

"Heyyy man, what's up?"

"I got you another cassette my friend; Miss D and the Pallboys in a rare recording done at a live event - interested?"

"What kind of question is that; hell yes I am - I'll be there in half an hour!"

"See you soon."

Ok, today was not a total bust.

-

The mirror was not as kind today as she was hoping.

Alcina looked at her naked body with a twinge of scrutiny.

She'd gone through all of this with no fruits for her labor. 

After Dmitri and her troops arrived 5 days ago the trail of evidence and any leads went dead. It had gone completely silent. No more attacks, no more sightings, not even a hint of action. While everyone was relieved it didn't sit well with anyone, but what were they to do? They'd scoured every inch of the territory through the sector where everything had taken place, and miles around that. 

Nothing. Anywhere.

The 'cave' itself proved pointless; it was caved in not a thousand feet from the entrance. Still, no one was convinced this was over and Alcina agreed. Dmitri and Sylvia kept several outposts active and would continue to do so for as long as they deemed fit.

The deceased mutated vampire lay in the bin hollowing out with nothing more of interest to study it seemed. No bugs, no worms, nothing exited his body to help Joel in his quest to understand him. His tests came up with very little information outside of a strange anomaly in the dead blood he'd collected, however it was nothing he had seen and without a live sample of possibly another mutated specimen he was hitting a dead end as well. How could he research a dead, dying crumb of evidence? Oddly though, when they put his body out to disintegrate in the sun, he didn't crumble to pure ash as he should have. His bones remained slightly in tact, which Joel collected to see if that could lead him anywhere instead.

Mother Miranda had finally been reached; she had indeed been on travel to Romania which is where Donna was finally able to speak with her. Her reaction was... limited at best. Unconcerned and satisfied they had it under control. Donna was unamused by her stance and Alcina couldn't have scoffed harder at her dismissal. She was nothing if not flippant unless it directly concerned her these days. She could rot in hell or Romania for all Alcina cared.

The suspiciousness of the ordeal had everyone who was aware remaining on high alert. This was far from over and neither clan was backing down from their posts to make sure whatever, if ever, something came next, they'd be more than prepared.

Thankfully no word had seeped into the underground and everything was carrying on as normal it seemed.

Alcina had returned home yesterday and was getting ready for a good nights rest in her own bed where it was quiet, and private.

Well, a little.

Donning her nightgown she clicked off the light to her bathroom and exited.

"Ai dormit pe partea asta aseară, e rândul meu," Daniela stated flatly. (You slept on this side last night, it's my turn)

"Conteaza? Încă dormi lângă mama," Cassandra replied, "sunt două laturi, poate s-o lase pe Bela să doarmă lângă ea în seara asta.." (Does it matter? You're still sleeping next to mother, there's two sides, maybe let Bela sleep next to her tonight.)

Bela sighed as she situated at the end of the very large king size bed, "e în regulă, sunt bine aici jos. Atâta timp cât suntem cu toții împreună, nu-mi pasă." (It's fine, I'm fine down here. As long as we're all together I don't care.)

"Dani este doar un nebun, vino să dormi aici." (Dani is just being a brat, you come sleep up here.)

"Nu sunt un nebun!" (I'm not being a brat!)

"Fetelor..." Alcina intervened as she approached softly, "într-adevăr acum, am destul pat și timp și cu mine să merg. Vă rugăm să încetați să vă certați." (Girls... really now, there's plenty of bed and time and me to go around. Please stop bickering.)

They smiled at her as she began crawling under the covers with them, nestling down with a smile of her own.

When Alcina returned home she hadn't had a moments peace since she walked through the door. Her daughters had warm blood waiting for her, not the wine, and tended to her every unspoken need. Which, they apparently seemed to make for her by the dozens. Donna had of course informed them of her attack and they were more fretful than she at the news. It was only expected they would be exceptionally doting to their beloved mother when she arrived home. They had nearly lost her once, many many years ago and the memories were still fresh and vivid in their hearts. The bond the 4 of them shared was deeply rooted and strong; Alcina may not be their biological mother in the human sense, but she was their rock and anchor, their protector and very much the loving, nurturing, caring and doting mother figure. While the girls were quite old as far as human standards go, somehow deep inside of them was still a childlike need and fondness with Alcina.

Cassandra had run her a bath, Bela washed the clothes Dani had packed and sent with Dmitri for her, Dani continued to bring warm blood on the hour and while the house was never truly a mess, it was spotless. Spot. Less. Alcina couldn't help but grin at their attentiveness. She jested perhaps she should get wounded more often... they didn't find it humorous in the least.

"Acum, fiicele mele... noapte bună, vă iubesc, dormiți bine," she cooed, caressing their beautiful faces one by one. (Now, my daughters... goodnight, I love you, sleep well.)

Exchanging kisses to the cheek they settled in, snuggling close to their mother as the silence of the room seeped in.

Cassandra, now on the right side of Alcina, caressed her arm softly, "esti bine mama?" (You're alright, mother?)

Alcina smiled, "da, draga. Dormi. Sunt acasă, în siguranță cu fetele mele. Totul este în regulă în lume," she whispered and kissed her forehead once more. (Yes, darling. Sleep. I'm home, safe and sound with my girls. All is right in the world.)

She felt complete. 

Almost.

She missed you. She needed you.

Tomorrow she would venture out to see you. She couldn't stand the distance from you any longer.

-

"More goodies for the pests, ey?"

You gave Malka a raised eyebrow as she scanned the bag of mixed nuts and dried berries.

"Those pests were here waaay before us, it's not their fault we moved in on their territory."

Malka broke her stern visage and smiled brightly at you, "yes yes, good good, you have a Yiddishe Kop my girl."

Malka was an old Jewish woman who ran and owned the tiny corner store a couple blocks from your apartment. It was your favorite place to get groceries and oddities. The produce was always fresh and she was constantly stocking the shelves with fun, niche little snacks from all over Europe and her home in the Netherlands. She'd adopted you as the neighborhood stray long ago and you happily claimed her as your long lost Bubbeh - her chosen term. She was small but a pure spitfire. Her hair was long and white with fading pepper streaks that she wore in a braided bun high on her head. Malka was a darling.

"I still think you should ween them off the dried fruit and give them fresh - it's good for the soul, you know," she advised knowingly.

You chuckled, "they like what they like, who am I to argue? Getting them off the pastries was hard enough!"

She placed the last of your things in your tweed bag and handed it over to you, "my pastries were the cause of several village wars, I'll have you know."

"Yes, yes, I know Sophia Petrillo. I doubt I'll ever see another twenty dropped on my doorstep until I treat them again."

"Ahaha," she cackled, "off with you now, enjoy your evening and give my best to the birds. Tell them Bubbeh wants a twenty dollar bill too next time."

By the time you made it to your block you caught their shadows overhead as they swarmed and landed in the trees in the courtyard. You smiled and treaded around back to the grass and benches on the other side. They followed with happy caws and grunts and coos.

You sat on the bench and watched them gracefully land at your feet as you opened the bag and began divvying out the goods.

You still couldn't tell them all apart yet but there was a considerably bigger one and a runt that stuck out the most. The smallest was easily the most vocal and it was skittish. The biggest one was very regal but had a playful side, you'd noticed. He, or she, would play with the baby squirrels in the neighboring tree, almost a game of tag, it was quite amusing to watch.

The gathering usually gave you odd looks from the passerby's but you got used to ignoring it. So you had a tiny army of crows, so what? 

Without giving away the whole bag you watched them trek around the grounds for a while enjoying the falling evening. It was getting a little cooler now, autumn was around the corner. Every season in New York was pretty, except winter. Winter could fuck all the way off in your opinion. 

You sighed. As the darkness shifted the hue in the sky your heart silently wished upon the universe that your Alcina was safe and would be back in your arms before too long. 9 days was a really, really long time at this point.

~

There was no way to accurately describe the sensation that coated you like warm molasses; it was slow in enveloping you and you became light headed, a fuzzy heat trickled through your system and your limbs felt numb and tingly. A smile erupted on your face and you instantly knew this feeling.

In a split second you were off your couch and headed for your room.

There creeping through your doorway was that tall black silhouette you longed and craved to see and touch for 9 too long goddamn days.

"Alcina," you whimpered as you ran to her and collected her in your arms.

She sighed long and heavy as her own strong arms enfolded you with haste. Your scent wafted through her sweeter than a summer breeze offering reprieve from the hot sun and she drove her nose deep in your hair.

"Oh... how I've missed you, draga mea," she whispered near your ear, feeling her own relief and satiation of having you back within her grasp, "I have missed you so much."

"I've missed you so much," your muffled reply came as you slowly inched your face around to claim her lips.

The two of you moaned softly and satisfyingly at the connection. Yes. This felt like home, this felt too good to be lost for so long.

Alcina carefully grasped your face in her cool hands, which you noticed were slightly trembling, and you looked deep into her stumbling slate colored eyes. Pools of ethereal eternity. Somewhere you wanted to be for the rest of your days.

"Hi beautiful," you smiled.

"Hello, dragul meu," she smiled right back.

You snaked your arms back around her torso and clung to her like she might slip away again. Not today Satan, not to-fucking-day.

Although, there was something amiss. Something not quite right. You weren't completely sure what it was but somehow your hands began to pull higher up her back where you found, under her leather jacket, an unnatural heat. And raised ridges of... something.

Alcina hitched as your hands splayed over her wounds and grabbed for your arms and pulled you away. The concern and confusion was not hidden on your face and she sighed, forced a smile and hoped there could have been at least an hour pass before this came to light.

Feeling the hesitation peel off her like layers of a wilted rose you stepped in a little closer to her, taking her hands in yours.

You could throw the thoughts of her absence dealing with something dangerous out the window all you'd like; they would return like a handful of sand to the wind and back in your eyes every time. You knew. You knew.

With a short breath you swallowed your worry, "I know you can't tell me everything, or maybe anything at all for that matter, but... what did I just feel?"

Exasperation was now the most common emotion she was friends with these days. Alcina didn't know how to tell you. It wasn't as if she could hide this forever. But she wanted to. Her healing was so slow - they should be gone by now, but they weren't, and she didn't want to be away from you any longer. Somehow this made her feel too vulnerable to you, a desperation to keep it locked away and never let you into this dark corner of her world.

"Draga..." she started, tossing her eyes away from you.

This was not something you would receive well, in fact she feared for how it would affect you period. How was she supposed to just brush this off as a; 'well, you see draga mea, I was attacked by a mutated vampire that nearly killed me and more lycans than I care to count, that may or may not have many other mates running loose that we can't find, and truly that's just where the story ends for the moment,' and expect you to have a normal reaction. And, at the same time, how could she just say; 'I can't tell you what happened and I'm sorry you have to look at these scars that looks like I fought 8 meet hooks, you'll just have to accept that,' and move on.

Alcina's pause made you lean in closer. You understood the barrage of thoughts you couldn't hear her fighting all too well, so, softly and carefully, you began to remove her jacket and moved to her tight black turtleneck.

Her body immediately tensed and an anxiousness wrapped around her, but what was she to do. 

Well, here we go, Alcina thought.

She allowed you to continue and it actually surprised you. You half expected her to grab for your arms again and immobilize your efforts, but she didn't.

As you stood behind her and lifted the soft cloth, the sight that assaulted your eyes sunk your heart to the pits of your stomach like a deflated lead balloon.

Did you gasp? No clue. But you felt ice shoot through your veins at the sight.

"My god..." you whispered, "Alcina... what - who did this to you?"

Your fingers were so gentle as they passed over the raised dark purple scars Alcina almost buckled. The caress didn't hurt but it felt like little sparks of electricity passing through her. Somehow your touch was the most soothing thing she'd felt so far in her healing, or, maybe, she was just starving for your touch more than she had been aware.

As your eyes wandered you could now see in the dim light that there were fully healed scars all over her. All in swipes of 4, like sets of claws. Eventually you just removed the turtleneck all together and rounded her to look back into her eyes. She wasn't completely dodging your glance, but she wasn't seeking it out either.

You tried to choke out more questions as you softly trailed your fingers over her arms, chest, and abdomen. What was there to say, how were you to say it? Suddenly another rushing wave of icy water pelted over you as the memories of that night you had your little 'muscle attack' just about drowned you. 

Did you feel this happen to her? 

Who or what could have done this? Was the war between vampires and lycans returning?

Your visage torqued the twinge in Alcina's heart. You were so concerned, plighted by a tied tongue. But also, something else. Alcina gently reached out to cup your jaw and offer a soft smile. Truth be told she didn't know what to say either. She didn't want to answer your question. 

In your short lived elation to see her you were unable to address the tiredness about her, but now you saw it loud and clear. Her eyes lacked the sparkle of light, her skin looked worn, her lips, thinner, her trembling hands alone should have told you how lacking her energy was.

Taking her beautiful long fingers to your lips you kissed them gently, repeatedly, locking her eyes with yours as you then began to move your hair away from your neck.

Alcina grabbed you up in her arms and held you, "dragul meu, please, I didn't come here to feed off you -"

"I know you didn't but you're depleted, I can tell," you shut down her argument softly, "please, drink," you urged, "I don't like seeing you like this. Please... I want you to."

She didn't budge.

Stubborn ass.

Accepting her refusal you secured your arms even more tightly around her bare torso and held her back. She may have won for now but you would give her your blood before she left, you wouldn't have it any other way. Softly you began pressing your warm lips against her bare collarbone and kissing her cool skin with revered tenderness.

Alcina closed her eyes and leaned into you, feeling you against her seemed to bring down all the pillars of worry and concern around her. But you, your offer, it panged her with guilt and remorse.

Pressing her lips to the shell of your ear she whispered softly, "you are not for my consumption, draga mea, you are more to me than what I think you realize and it pains me to think if I have lead you astray in that... you are not for the taking, for use, for simply delectable taste and pleasure. I love you, I never want you to feel less than my equal, for all sense and purpose of our differences."

You sighed.

"You big dummy," you muttered, pulling back to look into her eyes once more, "I love you too, I love you so much... you're my vampire and I'm your human; I belong to you because I want to. I'm not offering my blood out of - fuck, I don't know - pressure, duty, some form of guilt - no! I love you, I want you to feed because I want to take care of you, because I don't want to see you drained and weak, because your wellbeing is not only my job as your lover but my honor. You're a mighty Matriarch. You fight battles and command armies and rule over a literal underground city of vampires and lycans. I am a chaotic, dysfunctional, boring as fuck but loving human who was just lucky enough to be chosen by you - I can't offer you much, literally, I have like nothing of real value... but you've got my love, my dedication, my heart and blood and whatever else you want or need, ok?"

What have I done to deserve you? Alcina mused in the silence. You were the unintended enigma that was never-ending.

Carefully tracing her fingertips along the outlines of your face, Alcina leaned in gracefully to kiss you. Each caress of your lips together grew a little deeper and a little deeper, everything outside of this room ceasing to exist as she was once again back in the safest place she could ever imagine. Your arms. Your embrace. Your love.

Feeling the inevitable plume of heat deep inside of you, gorging yourself on everything that was this glorious woman, you urged and silently begged for her bite; pressing your body so close into hers, pulling her as near as possible, arching your neck as your lips escaped to graze her jawline. And then you felt the shudder within her; the release of the tiger that was prowling for blood with no need to chase.

Her teeth were sharp and precise and the painful pleasure coursed through you like your blood into her. Bliss, euphoric release; a chaotic intertwining of black and white, up and down, hot and cold.

As the sensation of heat poured down her throat, Alcina groaned out her long-awaited desire to taste you again. Your blood fed fuel to her fire like nothing else in this world, but within the rush this time something else was taking place. Her body began to burn. Her senses thrown into a frenzy. The striking, piercing sensation of an itch so violently unable to scratch tore through her and she ripped her mouth away from your neck with a pained wail.

Alcina's knees buckled and she fell to the floor with a thud.

[kanene-yaaay]

Secrets Plans, Silent Screams and Great Discoveries (Papyrus x Reader)

Warnings: None, really! Just some playful tickles with Ler!Papyrus and Lee!Reader. About 3.000 words.

Kanene’s notes: YEAH I REALLY DID IT LET’S GOOOOOOO. It only took like 6 years of knowing undertale to gather the courage to write this so. Never give up from your dreams I guess. Sdfgjukjhgfbn. Haaaaappy day everyone! Wish you a very lovely and great week :D

[~*~]

"THEY HAVE NO BONES!"

You snickered, hardly reacting at your friend’s natural loud tune besides pausing the documentary so you could give the skeleton at your side your entire attention. After a few months of friendship - full of shenanigans, laws of physics being broken or unnaturally bent, spaghetti and strangely enough a sock in the corner of your living room that for some reason couldn’t be moved from the floor?? - it became easier to notice the tells of when something has been eating the monster’s mind. A certain way that his eye sockets kept jumping from one side to another, a slight ‘tap tap tap’ of his gloves patting his femurs in a quick pace, the way his body kept swaying on the couch, as if Papyrus was physically stopping himself from doing something. All of these showed that something was about to happen soon.

Good thing this time it was just a random shouted sentence. You don’t think you could take another surprise spar slash training slash self defense class slash friendship special attack from Papyrus. Your poor body was still recovering from the last one from Undyne.

Still, the question had been sudden enough that, after all of your surprised snickers dried out and no further context was given, every single memory and knowledge about human basic constitution and anatomy fled from you (a human) and your mind (a, and it’s important to emphasize, very human like mind who has never been anything but a part of the homo sapiens sapiens species even since it existed) and all the parts of the human body that had no bones were immediately forgotten. 

Under Papyrus’ excited and expectant smile (when did you begin to notice the difference between each of his smiles, again?), you freezed and stared back at him with a default blank expression.

Staring.

Silence.

More staring.

Ayyy. That is some very productive interaction you’re having right there.

With no hesitation he met your eyes with an equal unblinking gaze, lowering his back enough so you both would be at the same eye level. You held this for a few seconds before averting your eyes to the television, realizing that the match could go forever since he was a skeleton and didn’t need to blink. 

The screen was still frozen on the exact frame in which the narrator amplified a hair strand in order to explain how proteins and activated genes made it possible for human hair to be found in different shapes, colors and forms. Somehow you felt like Papyrus wasn’t asking about hair. What had been the subject before this, again?

“NYEH” 

Allured by the sound you turned around only to find Papyrus’ face a few centimeters from yours, which immediately resulted in a yelp as you pushed the skeleton away, closing your eyes with a surprised bark of laughter that only grew stronger with the other’s triumphant shout.

“ONCE AGAIN THE GREAT PAPYRUS WINS THE DIFFICULT NON BLINKING HUMAN GAME WITHOUT BREAKING A SWEAT (EVEN THOUGH WE SKELETON MONSTERS DON’T HAVE ENOUGH SWEATS TO BREAK!)” He was quick to adjust himself back to his upright pose, red cape flying in a heroic manner behind him, moved by a mysterious wind that you stopped to try to comprehend a long time ago. “NOW, AS A PRIZE FOR MY AUSTONING VICTORY YOU, HUMAN FRIEND, MUST HELP ME TO UNDERSTAND THE MYSTERIES OF HUMAN ANATOMY.”

“Of course, Papyrus. But, huh, you know, if you’re curious, feel free to ask anything, you don’t need to win any game for it.”

Your smile was big and warm when he looked back at you with focused determination. It was hard to not smile when in the company of such a sweet, funny monster. You’re glad you both ended up becoming friends.

“OF COURSE.” He blinked, eyelights growing big and fuzzy on the corners and, before you could take a good look at it and wonder what it meant, Papyrus jumped to stand. “NOW HUMAN, I SHALL GO DO… SOMETHING! SOMETHING REALLY IMPORTANT AND TOTALLY UNRELATED TO YOUR PREVIOUS WORDS, OF COURSE. I WILL SEE YOU SOON.”

“Ah, okay.” Confused, but still more than used to Papyrus sudden appearances and disappearances, you began to stand from your comfy spot on the couch, trying to not think too much about how you expected your fun hanging out would last longer than this and about the sadness that suddenly filled your soul. “Do you want me to open the window so you can-”

But before you could even finish the sentence the Mascot of Monster Kind backfliped himself behind the couch. Your couch. The couch was right behind both of you and as it seems not very close to the wall if a three foot tall skeleton was able to simply backflip his way to hide behind it. That couch, exactly. 

…

Well, both him and Sans had been in weirder places, though.

(You would never, ever forget the time Papyrus simply asked Sans to come over your place for a movie night over his phone and then in the very next second you heard strange a sound in your closet only to open it and find the older brother cramped inside one of your forgotten shoeboxes making jokes about skeletons on your closet and walking a mile with no shoes or something like that.) 

However, even if able to do amazing things, monsters could be quite fragile and that was one of the reasons that made you basically throw yourself on the furniture to try to see if your friend was fine, an offer of grabbing some monster candy on the tip of your tongue before Papyrus own - surprisingly quiet - musings interrupted it. 

“The Human Once More Prove Themself To Be A Master In Improving Their Friendship’s Power With Nice Words And True Flattering… But Nyeh! The Great Papyrus Will Not Be Defeated! They Don’t Even Suspect That With This Hang Out And My Questions About Humanity I Created The Perfect Scenario For Both Acquiring Knowledge and Having An Amazing Bonding Experience. The Nice Human Friend Won’t Even Realize How Much Strong Our Friendship Will Be Until They Get Sweeped Out Their Feet With How Much Amazed With My Friendship Skills They Are. After That Nothing Will Prevent Us From Becoming Best Friends! Nyeh he he!” 

Oh my god. One of your hands fled to your mouth.

“My Awesome Bonding Plans Never Fail.” He wiggled, confidence oozing from his tune as he adjusted himself better on the tight place, a glimpse of something being caught by your gaze before disappearing again. Was that a kind of book? “Except, Of Course, For When They Do.”

Be still my heart.

With all of your will and determination, you held the urge to scream after witnessing such a sweet scene. 

Carefully, very carefully you turned back to face the TV, sitting calmly on the couch. A huge wave of fondness flooded your entire being as you waited for the tall skeleton to get out from his hidden spot with an expression full of serenity, as if your soul wasn’t babbling and shaking on your chest, overloaded with cuteness.

It didn’t take long before the spot on the couch right beside you was filled again.

“HUMAN! THERE IS NO NEED TO FALL IN DISPAIR, THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS BACK.”

“Great to see you around!” Smile. “So, you were asking?”

[...]

So. That-

That is not what you were expecting.

Warm phalanges started tracing the shell of your ears, quickly following the path to the skin behind it, careful and delicate swirls and scribbles dancing on every inch of skin, trying to understand how it connected the shoulders to the head. A series of chills ran across your spine, spreading fastly an uncontrollable, giggly sensation that made your lip quirk with a hint of a smile.

Ok. That tickled. A lot.

“HUMAN!” Your body immediately tensed, the flight or fight instinct bubbling just under your skin, wondering if the skeleton realized what just happened. Were monsters ticklish? Wait, was Papyrus ticklish? That thought made a mischievous quirk of lips expand wider in your expression, battling fiercely against the tingles that had just gotten just a tad harder to ignore under those wide attentive eyesockets. You couldn’t tell if the mirth shining on them was playful or just happy. “THERE IS NO NEED TO BE SO TENSE. THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD NEVER UNFAIRLY ATTACK HIS FRIENDS!”

His words did nothing to alleviate your questioning! Attack?? Like a tickle attack? Did he know he was tickling you? But Papyrus wasn’t exactly a subtle guy, he would have said something if he knew about your ticklishness, right? Should you attack him back right now? Could this be counted as a friendly monster spar?

While your thoughts ran a mile per hour in your head an accidental mishap happened, both of his hands momentarily slipping and tickling the underside of your jaw, fishing an unexpected yelp and a squirm that led to you almost scrunching up your neck in reflex.

That made him stop. Papyrus squinted his eyes at you, hands hovering just a little away from the skin, but for all the ghost feeling of phalanges trailing on your ears and somehow spreading all across your neck continued he could very well be continuing his research right now.

Hm. Perhaps agreeing to help him understand better the human body wasn’t the smartest of the ideas.

You tried to ignore the way your face began growing hot and butterflies started to wiggle their wings excitedly on your stomach, a reaction that only grew stronger when a fire of recognition lit on the skeleton's expression, a triumphant ‘AHÁ!’ floating in the air. 

“SO! Papyrus!! I’m glad that I was able to help. That was a very educative research so what if we stopped right here and continued to watch the documentary no-”

“NYEHEHE!” His loud, carefree laughter cut your babbling, a gloved hand patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. “FRET NOT, MY DEAR AND VERY SQUISHY HUMAN FRIEND! A FINE AND UNDERSTANDING SKELETON MONSTER AS MYSELF WOULDN’T HOLD YOUR INCREDIBLE, QUITE EXTREME TICKLISHNESS AGAINST YOU!” ‘Extreme Ticklishness’ If the skies wanted to send lightning to strike you right now that would be the perfect moment. “NOR WILL I LET THIS NOT SO SMALL AND IGNORABLE DETAIL PREVENT US FROM HAVING OUR ULTIMATE FRIENDSHIP MOMENT!” 

He scooted closer, hands open in your direction. Every word and gesture screamed amusement and yet true honesty. His chest poofed with his next sentence, his cape once again flying around. “DON’T WORRY FRIEND HUMAN, YOU CAN TRUST YOUR VERY ADORABLE WEAKNESS WITH ME.”

Papyrus looked full of hope at you and your melting face. 

Shit-

You needed to look away. If you continued to stare at the playful shine in his eyesockets or the way his smile was so big and hopeful you knew you wouldn’t be able to…

To…

…Damn you and your weakness for this monster. How could you say no to him in this situation?

“Alright.” You slumped in defeat, trying to not show how much giddiness and excitement were dashing across your nerves at saying those simple words, tingles starting to spread again on your tickle spots, butterflies now throwing a party and flying non stop on your stomach. “Go ahead.”

Afterall, it was just a bit of tickling, right? A little bit of it. You could take this. For Papyrus. For education. You definitely could endure a few seconds (or minutes, or hours-) of a tickly research, right? Yeah. Yeah, you could! For the friendship power! You aren’t even that ticklish, afterall!

His phalanges, once again, began trailing your ears, intertwining the light, maddening scribbles with a light tapping as he moved across your cheeks, leading to an unstable grin to form again on your features, the beginnings of an onslaught of titters jumping impatiently in your throat.

No. Nope. Not ticklish at all.

Shivers accompanied his movements as he followed the underline of your jaw, the tracing now escaping to your chin and neck, each new tap tap tap tap of the tip of his phalanges leaving a trail of tingles and bouncy feelings awake on its way.

You could take this. For Papyrus. He was being so incredibly, horribly and unbelievably soft with every touch of his that you could, you definitely could just not start giggling uncontrollably like a teenager in love from those cheesy animes you and Alphys liked to watch. Did his mindfulness make everything even more unbearable and your giggles gigglier? 

Yes. But you were not. going. to. break.

“HUMAN!” You let out a puff of air that sounded too much like a snort but of course it wasn’t one because you were not being affected at all by this research. “THE DOCUMENTARY MENTIONED ABOUT YOUR MANDIBULA BEING ABLE TO HELP YOU TO HEAR BETTER. DOES THAT MEAN THAT EVEN WITHOUT BONES YOUR EARS STILL NEEDS THE HELP OF ONE TO WORK WELL?”

“Y-yeah?” It took everything in your soul to not become a mindless puddle of titters and actually sum enough brainpower to answer him, even though you couldn’t stop how much higher your voice became with such predicament. “Actually, w-we snk- hahave little bones in o-our ears to hehelp with re-ressonance and hearing.” 

“NYEHEHE! I KNEW IT! EVEN THE BONELESS PART OF A HUMAN CAN REALIZE THE MAGNIFICENCE OF WHAT IS TRULY IMPORTANT IN LIFE: CALCIUM!”

Oh my god, he began scribbling his way to your collarbone, taking his precious time to outline every single inch of the sensitive skin. Your wiggles were an inevitability now.

“YOU MAY GIGGLE AND SQUIRM ALL YOU WANT, CUTE HUMAN! BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS WON'T BE STOPPED FROM HIS EDUCATIONAL RESEARCH. NOT EVEN BY YOUR INCREDIBLY ENDLESS TICKLINESS, NYEH HE HE!

“....EVEN SO. IF YOU COULD STOP WIGGLING SO MUCH, THAT WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED!”

It wasn’t even that strong of a tease. More like a poke of lighthearted fun between friends than anything, however it still made your cheeks bloom with warmth and titters uncontrollably spill from your lips, yelps and high pitched squeals being quick to follow the symphony.

“I cahahahan’t!”

"NO WORRIES! YOU CAN TRY AGAIN! I BELIEVE IN YOU!! HERE, I WILL EVEN SHOW YOU A PIECE OF MY AWESOME KINDNESS AND BE EXTRA, EXTRA GENTLE!"

“Nonono!” You tried to protest but it was already too late, his determined drumming began teasing from the nape of your neck to the tip of your shoulder blades with no mercy, quickly making their way across them and getting dangerously close to your ribs. What was the point of this research again? “Pahahapys, come on!”

“GASP!” He said that out-loud, sounding delighted. And, if you could open your eyes and stare at his smile without immediately breaking in louder laughter you would be able to watch how his face got brighter with mischief. He almost bounced on the same place with excitement at how lovely your reactions were and how cool his nickname (His own nickname! Given freely from a friend! A human friend!! His plan was working!!!) sounded between giggles. “OH NO, HUMAN! YOUR CUTENESS LEVELS ARE UNSTOPPABLE RIGHT NOW! THEY COULD EVEN GET ALMOST AS HIGH AS MINE!! HOWEVER, I, PAPYRUS, HAVE NEVER BEEN DEFEATED IN A BATTLE OF CUTENESS, AND NEVER WILL BE! PREPARE YOURSELF! FOR MY ESPECIAL TICKLE ATTACK!!"

“Wait, wait, wait!” Your voice failed when suddenly your sides were tazed unmercifully, fishing more noises than just titters and giggles for the first time. Your wiggling became stronger, your body trying to escape from the horribly, awful tingly shocks but being skillfully chased and attacked by someone who seemed talented in chasing and tickling dodgy targets. “But why!”

“WHY THIS, YOU ASK? YOU SEE, SQUIRMY FRIEND!” 

You opened your mouth to protest against such an unfair nickname but suddenly there were fingers rubbing circles on your ribs and scratching the space in-between them, being careful to give each bone an equal, especial attention and nothing more than a mix of a wheezed screech and quiet sorts were escaped from your mouth. 

“AS THE MASCOT OF THE MONSTERKIND I SPENT PRODUCTIVE NIGHTS AND DAYS LEARNING ABOUT HUMANITY AND THEIR CULTURES SO THAT I COULD MASTERFULLY EXPRESS MY COOLNESS FOR THEM IN THE FULLEST.”

You were trying very hard to pay attention to Papyrus’ words, however, that task, once so simple, only grew at each second harder and harder since your adorable, nice and totally fucking unmerciful friend - that was SO paying for that - found a rather delightfully weak spot right in the middle of the path that connected your side and your belly. And now he was taking his precious time to give to that ticklish spot plenty of scribbles, pinches and pokes, attentively watching your reactions to see which ones brought the best squeaks and made such a beautiful laughter ring happier.

“AND, OF COURSE, AS THE DIRECT DESCENDENTS OF SKELETONS IT WAS VERY CLEAR FOR ME THAT YOU ALSO WOULD HAVE YOUR OWN WAY TO BATTLE YOUR FRIENDSHIP TO EACH OTHER’S SOULS IN A BONDING (AND HOPEFULLY NOT HARMFUL) ACTIVITY. AND I WAS RIGHT! AS ALWAYS! OR AS MOSTLY OF THE TIME. BUT ALWAYS IN THE BEST TIMES!”

A curious hand gave your knee a squeeze, fishing more protesting high pitched giggles. Your own hands latched on the gloved ones, holding his wrists and attempting to push the offending squeezes away with no real heat or strength. A couple of scribbles found their way to the ticklish skin under the spot and a soft ‘nyehehehes’ followed the wobbly squeals created by such discovery.  

“THAT WAS HOW I DISCOVERED ABOUT YOUR TICKLE FIGHTS! WHICH GAVE ME THE PERFECT IDEA TO INCREASE MY FRIENDSHIP LEVELS. JUST ACCORDING TO KEIKAKU.”

And, just like that, plenty of weak wheezes, ringing laughter, uncontrollable titters, wobbly crackles, sneaky yelps and quiet snorts dutifully followed every squeeze, scratch, drumming, pinching, poking and any and every form of tickle attack that you could ever imagine, each of them hopping across your sides, armpits, belly, knees, ribs, neck and even your spine with both careful, soft tickles and horribly unmerciful attacks that, in the end, equally left you with a gigantic smile from ear to ear plastered on your face, leftover tingles still teasingly tingling and remanent giggles still giggling in the air.

You closed your eyes, taking greedy gulps of air, hands still holding Papyrus’ wrists.

“WOWIE! YOUR CUTENESS LEVELS REACHED THEIR HIGHEST RANKS TODAY! THE ADORABLENESS OF YOUR SMILE AND THE PRECIOUSNESS OF YOUR LAUGHTER WERE ALMOST AS CHARMING AS MINE, HUMAN. YOU MUST FEEL VERY ACCOMPLISHED. AFTER ALL, IT’S NOT EVERYONE THAT CAN BE THE SECOND COOLEST.”

More giggles.

“Papys?”

“YES, FRIEND HUMAN?”

“Hohow high can your cuteness lehevels get?”

Papyrus froze, beads of sweat forming on his skull as your hold got stronger. 

“ER, YOU SEE, FRIEND… THEY ARE AS HIGH AS THEY CAN BE, OF COURSE! NOTHING LESS THAN EXPECTED FROM A COOL MONSTER AS MYSELF. NO NEED TO TEST IT OR RUN YOUR OWN RESEARCH.” 

Subtly, he tried to pry his wrists from your grip, more magic sweat appearing on his face when his efforts proved to be unsuccessful.

“Mm hm. Papys?” 

Papyrus’ hands mirrored your hold, arms tensing in preparation for the sparring that would sure happen.

“..... YEAH?”

You opened your eyes, a dangerous glint of playfulness shining in them. 

“Run.”

[~*~]

Random extra stuff and original bullet points of this fic (that has been changed as I wrote the fic because I can’t follow sht xD):

- Papys wants to know more about human's ears ("HOW CAN SOMETHING BE SO EFFICIENT AND HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH BONES!")

- He ends up discovering human's tickliness and continues to accidentally tickle them. ("NO WORRIES, DEAR HUMAN! THE GREAT PAPYRUS WOULD NEVER UNFAIRLY ATTACK HIS FRIENDS")

- But as time pass by and the reader continues to titter and squirm ("YOU MAY GIGGLE AND SQUIRM ALL YOU WANT, HUMAN! BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS WON'T BE STOPPED FROM HIS EDUCATIONAL RESEARCH, NOT EVEN BY YOUR INCREDIBLY ENDLESS TICKLINESS, NYEH HE HE! EVEN SO. IF YOU COULD STOP WIGGLING SO MUCH, THAT WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED!

"I cahahahan't!"

"NO WORRIES, HUMAN! YOU CAN TRY AGAIN! I BELIEVE IN YOU!! HERE, I WILL EVEN SHOW YOU A PIECE OF MY AWESOME KINDNESS AND BE EXTRA GENTLE WITH YOU!")

- Then he get hit by a wave of playfulness and decide to truly be mischevious with the reader and be like:

OH NO, HUMAN! YOUR CUTENESS LEVELS ARE UNSTOPPABLE RIGHT NOW! THEY COULD EVEN GET HIGHER THAN MINE'S!! HOWEVER, PAPYRUS HAVE NEVER BEEN DEFEATED IN A BATTLE OF CUTENESS, AND NEVER WILL BE! BE PREPARED! FOR MY ESPECIAL TICKLE ATTACK!!"

- Needless to say, his plan backfired. Reader got even more adorable. Oh noooooo. Papyrus loudly complains about that with plenty of teases, tickles and fake-sad 'nyohohoo!'"

~~

* Also, yeah, Papyrus definitely noticed you peeking at his hidden spot behind the couch but he thought that would be impolite to show that he noticed since you were trying very hard to not make any sound so he just acted as his great, natural self!

* “your body trying to escape from the horribly, awful tingly shocks but being skillfully chased and attacked by someone who seemed talented in chasing and tickling dodgy targets.”  yep that was def a reference about Sans and I personally headcanon Papyrus as a gigantic tickle monster that can AND will tickle his gremlin of a brother sdfrjukjhghyg

[chenziee]

Corazon

Alternate summary: Tsuru is definitely not getting paid enough for this

First of the two pieces I did for @opwarlordzine!! Leftover sales are open right now, so do check it out for more deranged evil flamingo man & co. :D I also did a short Law-centric companion piece that I will post soon too so look forward to that~

[ Read on AO3 ]

—————

Waiting for the transponder snail to ring was agonising. Doflamingo had no idea what Law was thinking; he had wormed his way onto Punk Hazard, living in Caesar’s lab like a little rat, waiting for an opportunity to chew up the cables that connected the SAD tanks with Doflamingo himself—and Doflamingo let him.

After all, what could one brat going through his rebellious phase do?

But picking a fight like this, going so far as to put up such a ridiculous ultimatum… that was way past a little rebellion. Way past what Doflamingo was willing to forgive.

Two years ago, Doflamingo had thought Law was finally coming back to him. Two years ago, he had started building his deck of cards once more.

In two years… the hearts have crumbled into dust.

—————

Dressrosa, the country of passion. With a name like that, one would think there would be something exciting going on at all times, but reality often falls short of fantasies.

Not that it was necessarily a bad thing; if he wanted some action, or a show… there was nothing easier for Donquixote Doflamingo than to create it. Right now, however, he just wanted to sip on his cocktail and relax.

“Hey, hey! Doffy!”

“Hm?” Doflamingo hummed, turning his head slightly to look at Trebol as he slid towards the pool.

Trebol only stopped once he had reached the couch, leaning over the side of it to shove his face far into Doflamingo’s personal space—and covering Baby 5 next to him in slime. “Hey, Doffy, hey,” he rambled on, completely ignoring Baby 5’s disgusted protests.

“What is it? And you’re too close,” Doflamingo said, shooting his supreme officer a look.

At that, Trebol finally moved back a little, though not nearly far enough. “A carrier bat came for you,” he explained, waving the envelope with a government seal in front of Doflamingo’s face.

“Throw it out,” Doflamingo dismissed it immediately.

“You’re not even going to read it?!” Baby 5 asked in alarm.

Raising an eyebrow, Doflamingo took a long sip of his cocktail before responding, “Why should I care what those idiots want?”

“Your blood type is X! Bad things will happen if you’re not open to people’s requests this week!” the girl scolded while slapping the magazine on her lap.

“Baby 5, did you get another subscription?” Buffalo asked slowly, obviously struggling not to laugh.

“They needed me,” Baby 5 muttered while covering her face with the magazine; no doubt to hide her blush.

Doflamingo rolled his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. When would this kid learn?

“Hey, Doffy, hey. I think it could be interesting this time. It’s about the brats who have been rampaging in the first half of the Grand Line,” Trebol announced, shoving the letter back in his face.

Doflamingo paused at that. “Probably just that Straw Hat,” he said, but he reached for the paper anyway, his curiosity piqued.

As he read the words written in an entirely too fancy script, a chuckle bubbled out of his chest, the sound of his laughter soon echoing around the castle courtyard. This was honestly hilarious. As if it wasn’t enough they had allowed Crocodile to get beaten by Straw Hat, now they were basically admitting they were scared enough of him to call on the Seven Warlords.

And from their wording, it didn’t sound like it was just about him either. A few names that he imagined would make the government shit itself came to mind—Eustass Kid, Jewelry Bonney, X. Drake, and…

“The world is getting fun,” he mumbled to himself in between his bouts of laughter.

Getting up from the couch, he took the magazine out of Baby 5’s hands, tossing it at Trebol. “This place better not exist by the time I get back.”

“Aye aye, Doffy!” Trebol laughed.

Baby 5’s enraged scream was the last thing Doflamingo heard as he left the Dressrosa castle behind.

—————

A finger twitching, a smile widening, a sword swinging wildly; confused, terrified screams resounding around the spacious meeting room—puppets who didn't even realise they were just props for his amusement. Moving only as the puppet master commanded.

How Doflamingo enjoyed watching the despair take over once they realised they were powerless, only doomed to watch themselves slay their own friends. Granted, no pathetic navy soldier could be as entertaining as King Riku on the night Doflamingo had finally made it to Dressrosa but he would take it anyway.

“Doflamingo, I told you to be a good boy and behave,” Tsuru said, her voice quiet but stern, like a grandmother reprimanding her grandchild.

“Aw, but Tsuru, aren’t you bored of this pointless chatter?” Doflamingo replied, shooting her his best grin.

“Why did you come if you didn’t want to hear what we have to say anyway?”

Doflamingo paused at her words. Why was he there? All they’ve talked about was Straw Hat and this Blackbeard guy who had invited himself—or his crewmember—over. He had really thought there would be something more fun to be heard.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret coming.

And he couldn’t help but laugh. “I missed your loving scolding, Tsuru.”

Tsuru sighed but then shook her head and looked away. “Never mind.”

Doflamigo’s chuckle slowly grew into a full laugh. Ah, he really liked her. Was this the bond you get when you get chased by the same person for years and years?

Now if only she and Sengoku would talk about the people he really wanted to know about.

—————

"Well, this really is unusual," Tsuru noted, one eyebrow raised as she regarded Doflamingo. “This is the third Warlord meeting in a row that you’ve attended.”

Doflamingo chuckled. “Ah, but Tsuru, you didn’t give me much choice last time. Not to mention how fun the war was, you know I couldn’t have missed that one.”

“Don’t give me that, boy,” Tsuru said with a roll of her eyes.

“You don’t trust me, after all these years? That hurts,” Doflamingo said in his best mock-upset tone.

“I don’t trust you being so cooperative.” She made a face, distaste at what she was going to say clear in her expression. “But I do trust you thought the war was fun. You’ve always been like that.”

Loud laughter bubbled out of Doflamingo’s chest. Leave it to Tsuru to say things so bluntly—and to understand him so well. After all, he had always loved dramatic events that affected… everything. And if he got to play with a few pathetic bugs while at it, all the better. The war was perfect. He didn’t care about victors or losers; he didn’t care about Portgas, Whitebeard, or the navy. He didn’t care about any of it.

But watching history unfold before his very eyes… that was worth going out of his way to do what the idiots at Mariejois wanted.

And now…

“I hear the Warlord replacements have been decided?” Doflamingo asked.

Tsuru stayed silent, simply studying Doflamingo as he stared back at her, his usual grin not showing a single hint of his thoughts. She looked like she was trying to cut his brain open with her eyes and read his mind.

Doflamingo didn’t hate the look.

Honestly, it was fun.

Who would win? Tsuru and her calm, stoic gaze, or Doflamingo and his wide, ever-present grin? Her wise, experienced mind, or Doflamingo’s madness?

He couldn’t wait to see.

—————

Walking around the Pangea castle, Doflamingo couldn’t help but marvel at how different it felt now compared to when he was a kid. Back then, he was one of the people hiding behind the bubbles, behind the walls, behind CP0. Having every need satisfied without having to lift a finger—endless supply of slaves, unconditional protection from the navy headquarters below.

A little brat, he couldn’t see how weak and pathetic the Celestial Dragons really were.

How fragile that power was.

Now, however, watching Charlos waddle around like a toddler crying for his daddy… Doflamingo just had to laugh—quietly at first; but soon, he was cackling loudly without restraint.

What was the point of people like this ruling the world? They didn’t have what it took. They were so below him; if he didn’t have a use for them, they wouldn’t be worth a single spec of his attention. But luckily for them… even an otherwise worthless human served its purpose.

Like puppets on strings, simply dangling his knowledge in front of their noses had them dancing in Doflamingo’s palm, all their assumed power—gone.

He wondered, once he got bored of Dressrosa, how much effort would it really take to sit on the ‘Empty’ Throne?

“What’s so funny, Doflamingo? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“You don’t think the world is funny, Tsuru?” Doflamingo asked, shooting a wide grin at the Great Advisor.

“No,” Tsuru said coldly and her annoyed voice only made Doflamingo chuckle again.

Comfortable silence settled between them, one born of the bond between a mouse and a cat who’d been playing tag for a few years too long. Who was the mouse and who was the cat?

It didn’t really matter anymore.

But then Tsuru spoke up. “Trafalgar Law,” she said quietly and Doflamingo’s ever-present grin dropped.

“Oh? What about him?” Doflamingo finally asked after a beat of silence.

The old woman sighed, “From North Blue. Has the power of the stolen Op Op Fruit. Started making a name for himself around the same time Straw Hat Luffy had. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.” She paused, taking a deep breath, her eyes rising to look at the brilliant blue sky. Possibly wondering why she was even bringing this up herself. “What is your connection to him? To have you care enough to show up here of all places four times.”

The silence came back for a moment… but then Doflamingo’s lips stretched into his usual grin once more. And soon, his laughter was ringing around them.

“You’re really nosy. Aren’t you, Tsuru?” he asked, his hand coming to rest against his forehead, just above his glasses. Shielding them. He wasn’t sure why.

Tsuru still wasn’t looking at him when she replied, “You don’t have to tell me, I don’t really care that much.”

Doflamingo huffed at her words. “Now, that’s just mean.”

“What, you want a hot cocoa and a bedtime story?” Tsuru asked with a voice full of sarcasm.

“I’d certainly want to see you do that.” Doflamingo stopped laughing then. “Law is… the one that got away.”

At that, Tsuru finally looked at him; it was a look that Doflamingo could only describe as annoyed and completely, utterly done. Ah, what a great expression to put on that old face. Well worth coming to Mariejois just for this reaction.

“Do you have to always say things in the creepiest way possible?” she asked, exasperated. Before Doflamingo could so much as lick his lips, however, Tsuru sighed and shook her head. “Don’t answer that. Glad at least one of the kids you picked up had enough sense to run away while he could.”

“Now you’re just hurting me on purpose,” Doflamingo teased just before he turned to leave.

“As if you need me to baby you,” Tsuru shot back and Doflamingo could just hear her eyes rolling.

Doflamingo huffed, simply waving back at her lazilly as he walked away, not looking back.

—————

Outside Dressrosa’s royal palace, there was a crowd of people, shouting; they wanted answers, voiced their worry, demanded to see their king.

On the floor, an army of transponder snails was ringing incessantly, their owners in panic.

But Doflamingo didn’t care, not about a single one of them. He was waiting for a single person to speak up, a single snail to wake up.

At the centre of the room, four thrones sat empty without their Officers. The last time he had talked to Tsuru, all four of them had an owner. There was still a Corazon.

But now—

Purururu… Purururu…

Now, the Heart seat sat empty.

[silvfyre-writings]

What Don't I Know? (BSD Fanfic)

Welcome back to another Fukudad and Ranpo fic and this time, we're in for the long run! No, it's not another longfic haha, but I have a sort of AU (I guess?) regarding ideas I have about the found family dynamic we've been gifted. Some of them are a little darker themed, so of course they will be tagged appropriately (I still have to write such fics lol)

But anyway! Ranpo AND Fukudad, what more could you want? May you enjoy, and don't be afraid to leave a kudos or a comment telling me what you thought! I love hearing you all get excited over these stories I write :D

What am I doing? Fukuzawa asked himself as he scolded Ranpo, shouting at the boy for the reckless behaviour that had would’ve gotten him killed if he hadn’t shown up in time.

He’s not my kid. Fukuzawa continued to think as tears welled up in the teenager’s eyes and began to roll down his cheeks, one hand clutching the red mark on his cheek from where he’d been slapped just seconds ago.

I’m in over my head. Fukuzawa sighed as Ranpo clung to him tightly, the boy’s face buried into the fabric of Fukuzawa’s yukata, as he cried and wailed out senseless apologies that were barely coherent into his chest.

This wasn’t how he’d expected his day to go. Not in the slightest. In no way, shape, or form, could he have predicted that by the end of the day, he’d have a fourteen year old boy hugging him and crying like his entire world had just been upended. Well, for all Fukuzawa knew, it had, but he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer anytime soon, not until the tears stopped.

“I’m sorry!” Ranpo wailed, his loudest one yet that had Fukuzawa wincing at the volume, but it finally triggered him into moving, and he dropped his arms from where they’d been hanging in midair since he hadn’t any idea of what to do with them in the first place, to rest on Ranpo’s shoulders and draw the boy closer. This only made Ranpo cry that much harder.

“It’s fine.” Fukuzawa said, doing his best to maintain the calm persona he’d managed to show all day—all day up until he’d seen a gun pointed at this child’s face—but he was pretty sure he failed. He didn’t know what to do, whether he should take Ranpo and go elsewhere, or simply wait for the tears to stop. If they ever did. Instead, Fukuzawa found himself running a hand through choppy black hair, something he recalled from his own childhood as a way to comfort another. He could only hope it would work on this child in front of him.

Ranpo shuddered underneath the palm of his hand, but finally, the wails quietened down, and the tears slowed until there was nothing but sniffling as his nose continued to run. And even though the tears had stopped, Fukuzawa kept moving his hand, kept running his hands through hair that desperately felt like it needed a wash from how oily it felt. He didn’t let that bother him though, as the motion seemed to soothe Ranpo even more, and eventually, Ranpo became still and quiet, but he still clung to Fukuzawa.

“The police are on their way to arrest these people.” Fukuzawa explained, and even though he knew that Ranpo wasn’t injured, he still wanted to be certain. “Are you injured?”

Ranpo didn’t say anything, only shook his head in response to Fukuzawa’s question; but Fukuzawa felt as his arms rose and then fell with the sigh that came out of Ranpo, and waited for the boy to gather his words. It didn’t take long, and Ranpo soon spoke, albeit quietly. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“What do you mean?” Fukuzawa asked, because he genuinely didn’t know what Ranpo meant. He knew that, back at the theatre, he’d offered Ranpo his home, but that had been a spur of the moment thing, something he’d done for a reason he did not yet know of. And despite what had just occurred in the warehouse, Fukuzawa had still been under the assumption that Ranpo was still coming home with him. Had he been wrong?

He received a look that could only be shock as Ranpo looked up at him, eyes showing a hesitance that Fukuzawa had never seen before in the short time he’d known the boy as they scanned his face, almost as if he was looking for a lie that didn’t exist. It was a strange expression to see on Ranpo’s face, because if there was one thing he’d learnt in recent hours, it was that Edogawa Ranpo did not hesitate. Ever since that first moment, where Ranpo had first appeared in that office, he’d exuded a kind of confidence that Fukuzawa had never seen before.

And right now, there was none of that confidence. Right now, Edogawa Ranpo looked every bit the fourteen year old boy that he was, one that is scared about where his future lies.

“The offer to stay with me is still there, if that is what you wish to do.” Fukuzawa offered when it was clear that Ranpo wasn’t about to speak anytime soon. “Otherwise, I can help you find shelter elsewhere.”

Ranpo continued to remain silent, but from the way his grip became almost suffocating, it was obvious that the boy didn’t want to go anywhere without Fukuzawa. Which was reasonable after the night’s events. “Alright.” Fukuzawa said after he’d patted Ranpo’s head a couple of times. “I have a spare futon you can use, and tomorrow, we’ll talk, okay?”

“Okay.” Ranpo murmured, letting go of Fukuzawa and scrubbing his hands across his face, wiping away as much evidence as he could that he’d been crying only moments ago. It was still obvious, from the way Ranpo’s eyes were splotched with red, and puffy eyes, but if Ranpo didn’t want to draw attention, then Fukuzawa would simply follow his lead and pretend—at least until they were behind the safety of closed doors.

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive, frantic and apologetic since it was one of their own that had kidnapped Ranpo in the first place. Fukuzawa let the apologies wash over him, instead pointing their attention towards the criminals that he’d knocked out, and watching as they were all rounded up and loaded into a single police van. One of the officers had approached to apologize again, but Fukuzawa merely raised a hand.

“It’s fine. If there is nothing more you need from us, we’ll be going.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.” The officer said, bowing at the waist towards both Fukuzawa and Ranpo. “We’ll still need statements from the both of you about the events at the theatre and the warehouse, but we’re more than happy to wait until tomorrow to gather those from you. We understand it’s been quite a night.”

“It has. I’ll make sure to stop by the station in the morning then. Until then, good night.” Fukuzawa gave a slight bow before he placed a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder and guided the boy out of the warehouse. The entire time, Ranpo hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even looked at the officers as they’d moved about and tried to engage with him. Fukuzawa wanted to put it up to exhaustion, because who wouldn’t be exhausted after such a night? But he knew better, could see the gears turning inside the boy’s head as he processed what was going on around him, probably already deducing everything about everyone that was there.

Fukuzawa wondered if the boy ever stopped thinking.

The walk to Fukuzawa’s apartment was just as quiet, but now, instead of having Ranpo in front of him, the boy was behind him, footsteps tired and slow as he followed Fukuzawa. It appeared that the night’s events were finally catching up with Ranpo as exhaustion grew on his face. The moment he’d started to lag behind, Fukuzawa had taken hold of Ranpo’s hand, making sure to not walk so fast that the boy tripped, but not so slow that he grew even more tired.

“It’s small.” Fukuzawa said as they came to a stop outside the door to his home on the third floor of the building. “But it’ll do for now. And it’s better than sleeping on the streets.”

Ranpo nodded, lifting his head a little as Fukuzawa opened the door for him and allowed him to step past. Fukuzawa watched as Ranpo stepped inside and stopped, looking around the apartment as he toed off his shoes, and removed his cape and hat, carefully placing them where they’d be out of the way.

At least, despite his arrogance and disregard for social etiquette, Ranpo still had some manners.

Fukuzawa flicked the light switch, blinking as light flooded the apartment, revealing the rest of it to the boy standing beside him. The apartment was simple really; one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. He felt a little self-conscious as Ranpo stepped further into the apartment, coming to a stop in the living room; it wasn’t often—never, actually—that Fukuzawa had guests over, so it felt a little odd to be sharing his living space with someone else, let alone a teenager that he’d only met that morning.

“Are you hungry?” Fukuzawa asked only once Ranpo had been standing for several minutes, not saying, or doing anything.

“No.” Ranpo said, and then sighed. “Are you sure…?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa moved over towards the kitchen, and opened the freezer, rummaging through it until he’d found what he wanted; an ice pack. He wrapped the block in a towel before he returned to stand in front of Ranpo, and offered it to the boy.

Ranpo frowned at him, but reached out and took the ice pack anyway.

“For your cheek.” Fukuzawa explained, and understanding dawned on Ranpo’s face as he brought it up to rest against the red mark that had swollen a little on the walk here. A bit of guilt ran through Fukuzawa at the sight of it; he really shouldn’t have hit the boy, even though he’d seen no other option at the time. He would apologize for it, but not right now, not when Ranpo seemed so lost and confused, and uncertain. No, he would do it in the morning, after they’d both had a chance to rest. “Right, there are a few things you can do now.”

“What?” Ranpo asked.

“You can take a shower if you’d like before getting some rest.” Fukuzawa said. “Or I can just roll out the spare futon I have and you can sleep.”

“Or?”

“Or we can talk now.”

Ranpo dropped his head, his bangs falling forward to hide his face from view as he thought over his options, for which Fukuzawa was more than happy to give him the time to do so. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to sleep, an exhaustion that he hadn’t felt in years, settling deep into his bones. But he knew that right now, what he wanted wasn’t important; it was what Ranpo wanted that mattered.

“I don’t have anything else…” Ranpo said quietly. It sounded like the boy was trying to argue, but whatever was running through his mind was too distracting for him to form a proper argument, not that Fukuzawa could figure out what Ranpo was trying to argue in the first place. As if he’d invite the boy into his home and not have something for him to sleep in that wasn’t that uniform of his.

A uniform that’s probably been his only clothing for the past year. Fukuzawa’s mind supplied unhelpfully, bringing with it a pang of sympathy at the idea of Ranpo having to sleep on the streets in just that uniform; he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Ranpo had handled the winter months in that uniform. It certainly didn’t look warm enough. “I should have something you can wear for now. It might be a little big, but it’ll do for now.”

Ranpo nodded and followed Fukuzawa down the hall as he opened the door to his room and crossed over to his closet, once again rummaging until he’d found what he was looking for. Fukuzawa emerged with a hoodie and a pair of pants in hand and held them out towards Ranpo. “The bathroom’s on the other side of the hall. I’ll get the futon ready while you change.”

“Okay.” Ranpo took the clothes from Fukuzawa and disappeared into the bathroom. Once the door clicked shut behind the boy, he moved to hunt down the spare futon he knew he had. He’d never used it of course, because he hadn’t had a reason to use it before now, but he distinctly remembered purchasing one when he’d moved into this apartment, all because the store clerk had told him it wouldn’t hurt to have a spare.

Fukuzawa was so glad he’d listened to that clerk now.

He found the futon tucked into the back of the storage closet, and it was as he unrolled it beside his own futon, that he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Ranpo standing in the doorway in clothes that absolutely drowned the boy. The hoodie alone fell down to Ranpo’s knees, and the pants had been rolled several times to avoid being stepped on.

Fukuzawa shook out the blanket and then turned to face Ranpo. “Is there anything you need before bed?”

Ranpo shifted uneasily with a frown on his face. He shook his head after a moment before pausing and then nodding. Another second passed with another shake, before he finally whispered. “Can we leave a light on?”

“Of course. I’ll leave the hall light on.” Fukuzawa said, and moved to turn on that light and turn the others off, darkening the room, but not completely. He caught a glimpse of Ranpo’s surprised look as he moved to lay on his futon, as if he couldn’t believe his request was even being considered in the first place.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Ranpo asked as he lay on the futon beside Fukuzawa, crawling under the blankets and tugging them until only the top of his head was visible.

“Not at all. You went through something traumatic today, so if having the light on helps, then we will leave the light on.” Fukuzawa explained. “Good night, Ranpo.”

A few moments of silence, then. “Goodnight, Fukuzawa-san.”

The morning brought with it, a tiredness that Fukuzawa felt deep in his bones, and a teenager drooling onto his chest, said teenager having abandoned his own futon at some point during the night to glue himself to Fukuzawa’s side. Fukuzawa sighed, but didn’t make a move to get up or wake Ranpo as he continued to sleep peacefully. A quick glance at the clock in his room showed that it was ten in the morning, and he had to do a double take to make sure that he’d read the clock right; yesterday’s events must’ve weighed on him more than he’d realized since usually, he was up before the sun.

Or maybe, it had something to do with the stray he’d picked up during yesterday’s events.

With another sigh, and some careful manoeuvring, Fukuzawa managed to crawl out from underneath Ranpo without disturbing him, and slowly shut the door behind him as he left the room. And then he paused. What am I supposed to do now? Fukuzawa asked himself as he walked to the kitchen. Sure, he’d offered Ranpo a place to stay, but that was only for the night; he wasn’t nearly well enough equipped to have the teenager stay with him long term, yet… he couldn’t bare the thought of throwing the teen back onto the streets after seeing how attached Ranpo was to him. He tried to picture it in his mind, but even then, couldn’t bring himself to say the words, nor could he bring himself to imagine the tears that would follow if he even dared to say them in the first place.

Whether he liked it or not, Fukuzawa knew that he was stuck with Ranpo now, and that meant, he needed to think. It’d been over eighteen years since he himself was a teenager, but he distinctly remembered being rather low maintenance; never requiring much more than the basics, and never really wanting more than what he’d already had or was given. It didn’t take a genius though, to know that Ranpo was not the same as him, that the boy sleeping in his futon was pretty much the exact opposite to him.

What do teenagers even need in the first place? Fukuzawa frowned as he moved about the kitchen, grabbing some eggs and rice to make a simple breakfast for him and Ranpo. As he moved, he allowed his mind to drift back to the question he’d asked himself; clothes were a given, since it appeared that Ranpo only had one set of clothing, that being the dirty uniform Fukuzawa would need to wash before he let Ranpo wear it again. Toys? As far as Fukuzawa knew, teenagers didn’t play with toys, but Ranpo was rather childish compared to other teenagers he’d run into from time to time, almost as if he’d never quite managed to escape the clutches of childhood. He pushed that idea to the side for now; he’d ask Ranpo when he woke.

Basic necessities were also something he’d need to pick up, unless Ranpo had some of his own in that satchel of his. And even if he did, it couldn’t hurt to have more on hand. Food was another thing he’d need; his fridge had food, but it was filled with basic stuff that didn’t take all that long to prepare. A growing teenage boy would need protein and more sustainable meals, especially since Ranpo was already on the small side for his age. Fukuzawa couldn’t help but frown as he cracked the eggs into a frying pan; he hadn’t noticed it before, but Ranpo was rather scrawny. That assassin had been younger than the boy—only twelve, Fukuzawa’s mind supplied unhelpfully—and he’d already been taller, and bulkier, than Ranpo was.

He could only imagine that life on the streets hadn’t been particularly kind to the orphaned teen.

Speaking of life on the streets… a doctors visit would be necessary. And that was the most terrifying task yet. Fukuzawa didn’t go to the doctors himself often, but whenever he’d needed to, the offices had always been filled with wailing children begging their parents to go home, and something was telling him that Ranpo was one such child. But it was a necessary task; Ranpo had gone for over a year without proper healthcare—at least, as far as Fukuzawa knew—and depending on where the boy had taken to sleeping at night, it certainly wouldn’t have been a cleanest of environments.

Clothes, necessities, doctors. We’ll start there. Fukuzawa nodded to himself as a plan of action formed in his mind. That way, if Ranpo decided he did want to stay, they’d be able to get everything they needed. And if, by some chance, Ranpo didn’t want to stay, then make a note of what Ranpo needed and give the boy some money so he could do it himself.

Something told him that would be unnecessary, but it always paid to think ahead.

“Fukuzawa-san…?” A quiet voice sounded from behind him, and Fukuzawa turned to see Ranpo standing in the hallway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Despite sleeping as deep as he had, Ranpo still looked exhausted. His eyes were red as they blinked open once, and his hair was all over the place, even more than it already was. And although Ranpo had made it sound like he was going to say something else, his voice trailed off and he said nothing.

“I made eggs and rice for breakfast.” Fukuzawa said as he turned back to the stove to check on the eggs, finding them to be suitably cooked, and dished them onto the bowls of rice that’d finished cooking moments before Ranpo had appeared. “If it’s not to your liking, I plan to do groceries today. Just tell me what you would like.”

“It’s fine.” Ranpo shuffled over to the dining table and thanked Fukuzawa as he was handed one of the bowls. He sat there in silence, as Fukuzawa sat from across him, and didn’t move to touch his food. Instead he pulled his hands away from the bowl and they disappeared under the table. There was tension in the teen’s frame.

“Is something wrong?” Fukuzawa frowned after he’d taken a bite of his own food. Were the eggs not cooked enough? Was it too plain a meal? Or was it not sweet enough for the boy’s liking?

“You wanted to talk when we woke up.” Was all that Ranpo said. He still refused to look up and meet Fukuzawa’s eyes.

“I did. But we can eat and talk, or we can talk after eating.” Fukuzawa tapped Ranpo’s bowl with his spoon. “Eat. You must be hungry.”

Ranpo did as he was asked, and finally picked up the spoon, managing a few mouthfuls before he broke the silence. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” Fukuzawa asked. He paused in eating and placed his spoon beside the bowl in order to give Ranpo is full attention.

Ranpo gestured towards the food, and then gestured again to the rest of Fukuzawa’s apartment. “All this. I’m just some kid you met yesterday.”

“It’s called being kind, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa lifted his spoon again, and finished off the rest of his meal before he continued speaking. “You needed a place to sleep, so I offered one. You needed food, so I cooked some. It doesn’t matter if I met you yesterday, or if I met you weeks ago, I’d still do the same.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.” Fukuzawa admitted, and truthfully, he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he felt such a strong need to care for the kid sitting across from him, why he felt like it was his responsibility to make sure that Ranpo was safe and looked after. And he certainly didn’t know when that had happened; he’d spent almost the entirety of yesterday wanting to be rid of an annoying, know-it-all teenager, yet the moment Ranpo had been in danger, he’d gone to all lengths to protect the kid.

He couldn’t explain it.

“I don’t know.” He repeated. Slowly. Carefully. “You tried my patience and you drained my wallet, yet something changed to make me go from wanting to leave you tied to a pole to wanting to make sure that you were safe and cared for, and that is something I am unable to put into words right now.”

Ranpo remained silent, eyes focused on the table as he ate, but Fukuzawa could tell that he was listening to his every word. Fukuzawa was content to wait, and pushed his bowl to the side while he waited for Ranpo to find the words he needed; if he had any to say. After maybe five minutes, Ranpo opened his mouth. “What do you want from me?”

The question is shaky, and there’s a look on Ranpo’s face that Fukuzawa doesn’t like. He can’t name it, but he’s seen it before—never on a teenager’s face before now though—and he can’t say that he likes the conclusion that he’d drawn from it. A part of him wanted to ask Ranpo, wanted to reassure himself that he was coming to the wrong conclusion, but he doesn’t, because he knows that if he does, it’ll destroy the current atmosphere and it’ll drive Ranpo away.

“I don’t want anything from you.” Fukuzawa said instead. He laced his fingers together to rest his chin on them as he watched Ranpo fidget in his seat—still with no eye contact. “All I want is to see you thrive, because I believe you can do great things with the gift you possess—if that is what you want to do—and you cannot thrive without the proper support.”

“And you’ll… offer that support? To me?” Ranpo lifted his head, and he looked at Fukuzawa, although his eyes were still closed as he did so, so it wasn’t quite direct eye contact, but that was fine. He was quickly learning that Ranpo was filled with quirks, and he was sure that there were still many that he wasn’t aware of yet.

“If you want it. I can offer you food and shelter in exchange for simple chores around the apartment. We can enrol you into school so that you can finish the education that you started, and we can find you work so you can make some money and not need to rely on the government.”

“And… what if… I didn’t want to stay here…?” Ranpo asked, although he sounded uncertain as he did so, like it wasn’t a scenario he wanted to follow the path of, but would do so if Fukuzawa gave the slightest inclination that he didn’t want Ranpo to stay. It was so obvious that it made Fukuzawa’s heart clench, but he didn’t let it show on his face, keeping his calm and collected self so that he didn’t scare Ranpo away.

“If you didn’t want to stay here, I would help you find work, and somewhere stable to live. But you don’t want to do that, do you?”

Ranpo shook his head and hunched in on himself, drawing his knees to his chest and hiding his face into them. “I’d like to stay here. With you. You aren’t like the other adults in this strange world I don’t understand. You aren’t a monster, and you understand me… well, sort of. So I’d like to stay… if that’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay, Ranpo. You are welcome to stay. We’ll just have to get you some things first.” Fukuzawa said, standing from the table to clear the empty bowls and place them in the sink to be washed later. He watches Ranpo begin to unfurl from his position. “Now, I intended to wash that uniform of yours today, but maybe you’d like to wear it while we go out and get you some new clothes? Since you haven’t mentioned having anything else to wear.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up before he’d even finished asking the question, and there’s red blooming across his cheeks. “My bag is only so big…”

“I’m not poking fun at you.” Fukuzawa looked over at Ranpo, finding the boy curled up again and hiding his face. “I understand your living situation has not been ideal, so you will not receive any judgement from me. We will go out and get what you need, and that is that. Alright?”

A few beats of silence, and then, “Alright…”

As it turned out, shopping with Ranpo was not ideal. Well, clothes shopping specifically. After the two of them had washed up, they’d left the apartment; Fukuzawa somehow managing to find a pair of pants and a shirt that didn’t immediately frown Ranpo, but were still far too large for the scrawny teen. Ranpo had immediately complained about being seen out in public like that, but when Fukuzawa had suggested that Ranpo remain behind—because he could simply take the kid’s jacket to help with buying the right sized clothing—Ranpo had kicked up an even bigger fuss.

So yeah, Fukuzawa was already tired, and it was only midday.

The mall they’d gone to was busy; not terribly so because it was a weekday, but there was enough people to bring discomfort instead of enjoyment. Not that Fukuzawa was particularly fond of crowds to begin with in the first place. He found himself watching Ranpo closely, keeping one hand on Ranpo’s back whenever they had to walk through a crowd, and just making sure the boy didn’t get lost. From the small number of things that Fukuzawa knew about the boy that was, well, his ward now essentially, he knew that Ranpo had grown up in a small town or village, one where everyone had known each other. So to go from that to a city as big as Yokohama, that had countless shopping districts filled with shops and people, it had to be a bit of a shock.

But Ranpo seemed fine, if a little tense, as his head swivelled from side to side, taking in his surroundings. He never said anything, only speaking to ask where exactly it was that they were going, or for Fukuzawa to slow down—he hadn’t even realized he’d been walking too fast until Ranpo had first asked him and he’d realized the teen was having to jog to keep up with him.

“Here.” Fukuzawa came to a stop outside of clothing store on the top floor of the complex. Why the people who’d built this mall had decided the main stores needed to be on the top floor, he didn’t know, but he did not appreciate it, not when he’d had to listen to Ranpo complain about the amount of stairs they’d had to climb. “We should be able to find some clothes for you here.”

“This is a children’s clothing store.” Ranpo pointed out.

Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow. “And? You are a child.”

“Yes, but, I’m nearly an adult!”

“Unless you plan to grow taller or put on weight in the next two months, you won’t fit any of the adult clothes right now, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa explained, feeling a little bad at pointing out how small Ranpo actually was right now, but he didn’t want to waste money on clothes that wouldn’t even fit the boy for some time. It wasn’t as if they were buying an entire wardrobe right now anyway. All they were doing was buying a few pants, some shirts, and whatever else Ranpo needed to get him by until Fukuzawa could afford to buy more.

He may have had enough money to buy Ranpo nine bowls of red bean soup, but he certainly didn’t have enough to buy an entire wardrobe plus whatever else they needed to buy that day.

“Ugh, fine. But don’t be surprised if there’s nothing I like here.” Ranpo huffed as he dragged Fukuzawa into the—thankfully—quiet store. All the other shoppers must’ve been on the lower levels, because there was only ten other people in the store, plus the workers. And it was quiet, which was a nice change to the rest of the building.

“You’re going the wrong way.” Fukuzawa pulled Ranpo to a halt and pointed to the right of where they’d been going. “Boy’s clothes are that way.”

Ranpo looked up at the sign that showed they’d been heading towards the girl’s section of the store. He blushed an impressive shade of red and pouted, turning his head towards the ground. “What if I wanted to go to that section?”

Fukuzawa blinked, not having expected that response. He suddenly felt like he was being tested, but what for, he wasn’t quite sure. He thought over it carefully, as the last thing he wanted to do was upset or offend Ranpo by saying the wrong thing. Fukuzawa considered himself supportive of people regardless of how they presented themselves, correcting himself as needed if he was wrong, and correcting others when they were wrong. But not once had he considered that Ranpo might fall under that category. A little bit of guilt ran through him at that. He should’ve asked before they’d come to the mall. “Do you want to shop there?”

Ranpo shrugged. “I’d like to look.”

“Alright. We can look there and see if there’s anything you’d like.” Ranpo’s eyes opened, revealing bright green orbs as the teen stared at him in poorly disguised shock. Fukuzawa couldn’t tell if Ranpo had actually wanted to shop in the girl’s section or if he’d just been trying to save face because he hadn’t realized he was going the wrong way, but Fukuzawa wasn’t going to bring it up. He’d ask Ranpo about it when they were back home.

Ranpo was silent as he browsed the clothes, so Fukuzawa remained silent as well as he followed behind, observing as Ranpo occasionally reached out and ran his hands along the fabric, either withdrawing quickly like the fabric had burned him, or visibly relaxing as he felt the fabric. Fukuzawa didn’t understand the reactions, but he took note anyway of what fabric caused what reaction. It seemed important.

“Excuse me, do you need a hand?” Fukuzawa turned to see a staff member standing just behind him, a friendly smile on her face. Yukino, her name tag read, and when Fukuzawa merely blinked at her, her smile grew wider. “Sorry, I noticed you both looked a bit lost, so I wondered if I could be of assistance?”

Fukuzawa glanced over at Ranpo, who wasn’t looking in their direction, but was coiled with tension. He turned his attention back to Yukino. “We’re fine thank you. Do you have change rooms though in case we’d like to try some things?”

“Yes, of course.” Yukino gestured to the left of them where, Fukuzawa could now see, had massive lettering labelled ‘change rooms’ plastered across the wall. “We only ask that you take five things at a time if you plan to try a lot, and that anything you don’t like, you leave at the counter there.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa gave a slight bow, and turned back towards Ranpo as they were left alone once again. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Ranpo frowned up at him and put back the shirt he’d been holding. The teen then looked away, before he looked at the ground and tensed even further. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“What’s weird?”

“Being in this section?”

“Not if it’s what you want to wear.” Fukuzawa shrugged, stepping closer to Ranpo, and looking at the shirt he’d been looking at; it was a simple white shirt with a cat printed on the front. To be honest, he couldn’t see what made it a ‘girls’ shirt to begin with. “Clothing is all about what makes you feel comfortable. It’s why I mostly wear my yukata, although I do enjoy wearing other clothes at times.”

Ranpo hummed, and went back to browsing. A couple of minutes later, he piped up. “How much can I pick out?”

“Not too much, we have a lot to acquire today. Five shirts, three pants—or skirts if that is what you’d prefer—and we’ll get you some underwear which should be enough for now. We can always buy more once you’ve had a chance to settle in.”

Ranpo nodded, and didn’t respond as he continued to browse, slowly wandering from the girls section over towards the boys section. He was yet to actually pick anything out, but there were some items that the teen lingered on more than others. Fukuzawa tried not to become impatient, but when, after an hour, Ranpo still hadn’t picked out, he found himself losing a little patience.

“Why don’t you get something simple for now?” He suggested, pulling a shirt off of the rack and holding it up.

Ranpo studied the shirt for less than a second before he turned his nose up at it. “It’s the wrong material.”

“The wrong—Ranpo, it’s a shirt! It’s just like all the other shirts here.” Fukuzawa exclaimed in disbelief.

“No it’s not!” Ranpo snatched the shirt form his hands and threw it back on the rack carelessly. He stepped away from Fukuzawa and curled his arms around himself. “It’s the wrong material, okay? It doesn’t feel right!”

Fukuzawa sighed, and reached over to take the shirt again, replacing it onto the hanger before putting it back where he’d gotten it from. This was why he’d been unsure about taking Ranpo in in the first place. Already, they were hitting their first obstacle and it was clothes of all things. He closed his eyes and took a breath to bring back his patience since snapping wasn’t going to get them anywhere. When he opened them, Ranpo was still in front of him, tense, and head lowered.

He reached over and placed a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze and waiting until Ranpo looked up at him. “I apologize for snapping. Tell me then, what is an appropriate shirt for you?”

Ranpo’s eyes opened wide at his words, and it took a few seconds for Ranpo to reach back into the rack, touching most of the shirts there before he pulled one out. “This one. It’s soft, not scratchy.”

Fukuzawa ran his hands over the material before he did the same to the shirt he’d placed back on the rack. He thinks he’d understood what Ranpo meant, but he knew that he still didn’t quite get it. Still, he nodded. “Alright. I think I understand now. If I pick out some shirts like this one, will you try them?”

A pause, and then a nod. Finally, progress had been made.

Fukuzawa turned to walk to a different aisle before he paused and looked over his shoulder. “Would you like me to pick you something from the other section?”

A longer pause this time, and a wary look before he’s given a slow nod.

Alright. Fukuzawa walked away after telling Ranpo where he was going—not that the boy wouldn’t be able to see him since he towered over most of the racks anyway—and began to browse the shirts. Every shirt he picked out, he held it against the one he’d taken with him, one that Ranpo had approved of, to make sure that it was the same material; a task that was surprisingly harder than it looked. It took some time, but eventually, he managed to pick out some shirts that he thought Ranpo might look; three from the boy’s section, and three from the girl’s.

He'd also grabbed something else, but he was still hesitant on whether or not it was something Ranpo actually wanted.

Upon returning to Ranpo’s side, he discovered that the boy had also picked out a few articles of clothing for himself—thank the heavens—and seemed happy with what he had chosen. From what Fukuzawa could see, they were just plain shirts, which was completely fine. Ranpo didn’t really strike Fukuzawa as the kind of kid to wear extravagant clothing.

“Do you want to try these on?” Fukuzawa asked, offering out the shirts he’d picked out.

Ranpo nodded, and looked through the shirts, placing two of them off to the side that he didn’t like. Fukuzawa felt a warm feeling grow inside him at that, pleased that he’d managed to at least guess correctly for four of the six things he’d grabbed. That warm feeling disappeared the moment Ranpo came upon the other article of clothing he’d brought over.

“You don’t have to try it, but you lingered on it before we moved on, so I grabbed it in case you wanted to, but were too shy.” Fukuzawa explained, feeling a little stupid to have to explain his decision, especially since Ranpo probably had already figured out why he’d grabbed it in the first place.

Ranpo didn’t say anything to begin with, and just held the clothes close to his chest. After a moment, he hummed. “I’m going to go try them on.”

“Alright, I’ll wait outside.”

What’s taking him so long? Fukuzawa glanced towards the room that Ranpo had disappeared nearly fifteen minutes ago. From his position, he could hear Ranpo shuffling about within, but the boy hadn’t made a sound for the past ten minutes, and Fukuzawa was starting to get worried. Another minute passed without a sound, and he finally gave up and approached the door. “Ranpo?”

“Yeah?” Ranpo’s voice is shaky and Fukuzawa swore he could hear sniffling. Is he crying?

“Are you alright?” There was no response to his words, but he heard a click as the door was unlocked, and that was as much of an invitation that he was going to get; Fukuzawa pushed the door open and stepped inside, eyes immediately falling towards Ranpo, who had his knees to his chest as he tucked himself back into the corner of the change room, avoiding eye contact. Fukuzawa sat on the ground next to the teen, and took note of the skirt that was currently in a death grip in Ranpo’s hands. “What’s wrong, Ranpo?”

Ranpo glanced at him. His eyes are red again from unshed tears. “I’ve never picked my own clothes before.”

Fukuzawa couldn’t help but frown. “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“My parents…” Ranpo’s voice trailed off, and there was a pained look on his face, the same one he’d worn when he’d last brought up the topic of his parents to Fukuzawa back at the restaurant. “They used to get upset if I didn’t wear what they picked for me.”

What do I even say to that? Fukuzawa thought as he scrambled to find an appropriate response. Time began to tick by, and Ranpo started to look more apprehensive, so Fukuzawa just spat out the first thing that came to his mind. “That seems like a poor reason to get upset at you.”

Ranpo snorted and shrugged. “Maybe. We grew up in a small town, so I guess they didn’t want the neighbours to think I was weirder than they already thought I was.”

Again, Fukuzawa was left unable to figure out an appropriate response. He wanted to offer words of comfort and reassurance, but it just didn’t seem right when he didn’t quite understand what the problem was. In his mind, teenagers should be allowed to wear whatever they wanted and not be judged for it, but he understood that his way of thinking wasn’t exactly commonplace in society, despite how much progress had been made over the years. What would’ve been considered taboo when Fukuzawa was a child was now somewhat accepted, and he’d seen many of the younger generation expressing themselves in various manners.

“If…” Fukuzawa began and looked down at Ranpo, and waited for Ranpo to look up at him. “If you want to wear the skirt, you will receive no judgement from me. If that is what is stopping you in the first place. And if you don’t want to wear it, that is fine as well.”

“You want to ask something else. I can tell.”

“I do, but I don’t think you want to talk about that in a change room.” Fukuzawa said, which drew another laugh from Ranpo.

“Yeah, not really.”

Fukuzawa soon found himself being herded out of the change room, and the door slammed shut in his face; a reprimand was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. It was still far too early in… whatever dynamic this was between him and Ranpo, to scold the boy when he did something wrong.

But you slapped him.

Yes, and I will apologize for that. Fukuzawa argued with himself as he returned to his seat to wait. He’d already forgotten about the way he’d slapped Ranpo the previous night, and regret ran through him at the memory of it. He really should’ve controlled himself better; Ranpo clearly was a bit different from other teenagers, and he’d looked so stunned when it had happened, like he couldn’t understand why he’d been struck in the first place. It was something they should’ve talked about that morning, but Fukuzawa had had so much on his mind that he’d forgotten.

“Fukuzawa-san?”

“Yes, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa looked up to see Ranpo standing beside him, with the clothes he’d just tried on in his arms. “Do they fit well?”

“Yeah, they do. But…” Ranpo trailed off, one of his feet kicking against the ground since his hands weren’t free to fidget with.

“What is it?” Fukuzawa asked.

“If… I wanted the skirt; would it count towards the pants limit?”

Fukuzawa let a smile form on his face, a small one, but still a smile. “No, you can still get the three pairs of pants. Although, is there a specific material you want for the pants?” He really didn’t want to spend another hour in this store trying to find the right kind of pants. He’d do it, of course, but he wouldn’t enjoy it.

“Pants are easier. They just need to not be tight.” Ranpo said. “It won’t take as long, so you don’t have to worry so much.”

And true to his word, selecting the pants had been the easiest part of this trip so far; Ranpo quickly finding the pants that suited him best. He also returned with a pair of leggings, stating that while he liked the skirt he’d tried on, it showed off too much skin, so Fukuzawa added it to the pile without a second thought.

After pants came the rest of the clothing; underwear and socks, which was also an easy affair and before he knew it, they’d finally left the department store—with a promise to never return after the cashier had dared to give them a dirty look upon seeing what they were purchasing.

Fukuzawa had seen the thought building behind the man’s eyes, had seen his mouth opening to speak that thought, and had seen is slam shut when he’d stood up to his full height and unleashed the intimidating aura he was known for on poor cashier.

Meanwhile Ranpo had chattered on happily about finally having more than one outfit to wear, and begging Fukuzawa for some sweets.

And Fukuzawa had caved, returning to the sweet shop that was on the level below them and buying Ranpo a few sweets—along with something substantial from the café two doors down—to keep him occupied whilst he purchased the rest of what they needed. The one benefit of taking so long to finish shopping for clothes, was that by the time they’d made it to the grocery store, the crowds had already died down, which meant that there were less shoppers in the grocer, which meant peace.

Well, peace from strangers, not from Ranpo.

First, Ranpo had insisted on being pushed, sitting on the front of the cart. Then, he’d insisted on more sweets than were healthy, which Fukuzawa had had to argue against; that hadn’t stopped Ranpo from sneaking some into the cart whilst his back was turned. Then Ranpo had wanted to push the cart, and at first, Fukuzawa had been pleased that Ranpo was offering to help, only to have to chase the boy down the aisle as he took off, laughing his head off and nearly running over several shoppers as he shot by them.

If Ranpo had been any smaller, than Fukuzawa would’ve just forced him into the child’s seat and been done with it.

Alas, he couldn’t, so he’d made Ranpo hold onto the side of the cart and not let go, with a gentle threat of no sweets being all it took to get the boy to obey him.

Apparently, that was all it took for Ranpo’s mood to turn sour, because then the complaints started. It started with it was too loud with all the beeping and chatter, then it was too bright because of the ceiling lights, and then there were too many people, because the longer they’d walked around, the more shoppers had arrived; all the complaints were uttered within a few minutes of each other, and Fukuzawa was almost at wits end. Yet, despite the cracks forming, Ranpo continued to complain and whine, the teen becoming more agitated the longer they walked.

“Ranpo, please.” Fukuzawa wasn’t begging, not yet, but all he wanted was for Ranpo to just be quiet for five minutes. “We’ll be done soon.”

“Well, I want to be done now! We have more than enough food!” Ranpo huffed tugging the cart to a halt and letting out a whine as he looked up at Fukuzawa. “I’m tired, I want to go home already!”

“It’s only been—”

“I don’t care!” Ranpo interrupted with a shout, and Fukuzawa fought the urge to shrivel up and die when head swivelled to look at them. “I’m tired and I want to go home! I don’t like it here!”

“Ranpo—”

“No!” Fukuzawa winced as Ranpo shoved the cart into his stomach and sat on the ground with a whine, curling up so small, his head wasn’t even visible. Fukuzawa looked around helplessly, face burning in embarrassment as he tried to quickly come to a solution. But he couldn’t think of something, because he didn’t know what this was, and it didn’t help as the other people in the aisle

“Ranpo—” Fukuzawa tried again, only to be cut off by a loud whine and what sounded like a muffled sob. What do I do? How do I handle this?

“Get him somewhere quiet.” A soft voice drew Fukuzawa’s attention, and he looked behind him to see a mother with a toddler attached to her hip giving him a sympathetic look. “He’s overwhelmed, so if you get him somewhere quiet, he’ll calm down.”

“I—” Fukuzawa glanced between the cart of groceries and Ranpo. He knew what he needed to do, he needed to help Ranpo like he’d promised to do that morning, but for the first time in his life, he felt rooted to the spot, unable to move while Ranpo fell apart at his feet.

The mother places a hand on his arm, and he looked back at her. “Go. I’ll watch your cart for you.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa breathed out as he reached down and pulled Ranpo to his feet before he quickly began to guide the boy towards the exit, quietly hushing Ranpo as he whined. Was it harsh? Probably. Was it necessary? Absolutely. Later, he’d research what it was that he was supposed to do in such a situation, but for now, this was the best that he could do.

The moment they left the grocer behind, along with all the sounds and crowds, the tension left Ranpo’s body and he stumbled over his own feet, Fukuzawa’s grip the only reason the teen didn’t fall to the ground. Fukuzawa tightened his grip on Ranpo’s arm and pulled him down to the side of the building, only letting go once Ranpo was leaning against the building.

“Breathe.” Fukuzawa instructed. “Keep your eyes closed and just breathe.”

Ranpo gave a single nod and slid down the wall. He took a few breaths before he whispered. “Go.”

“No, it can wait.” As much as he wanted to finish the shopping, he wasn’t about to just leave Ranpo on his own when he wasn’t well.

“Please.” Ranpo pleaded, opening his eyes to stare at Fukuzawa. “I’ll be fine. I just—just need a moment.”

“Then take that moment. I will wait with you.”

Ranpo continued to stare at him for a moment before he sighed and buried his face into his knees. The two of them sat in silence for another ten minutes before Ranpo lifted his head again. “I’m okay.”

Fukuzawa hesitated. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah. I’ll wait here… if that’s alright?”

“That’s fine. I won’t be long.” Fukuzawa promised as he turned away, pausing to watch Ranpo carefully just in case the boy was just acting strong, but it truly seemed that Ranpo was feeling better, and with that in mind, he hurried back into the grocer. He quickly tracked down the aisle he’d abandoned his cart in, and was surprised when the mother was still there, entertaining her child. “You’re still here.”

The mother looked up at him and stood, a gentle smile on her face; her child moving to hide behind her legs. “Of course, I promised to watch your cart for you after all. Is your son alright?”

He’s not my son. Fukuzawa wanted to say, but he also didn’t want to delve into an explanation about how he’d technically only been Ranpo’s guardian for a day and a bit, and that he’d met the boy at a murder scene, and that Ranpo had latched onto him like a leech. “He’s calmer now. Thank you for your assistance.”

“That’s alright. You looked a little lost and it reminded me of the time when my eldest went into overload for the first time when I took him grocery shopping. He’s old enough now that I can leave him at home thankfully.”

“Overload?” Fukuzawa frowned, unsure of what the woman meant. “Could you explain it to me? I’ve only… had him for a day, so that was the first time I’d seen him like that.”

He was given a sympathetic look before the mother reached into her purse and pulled out a notebook and pen, quickly scribbling onto a page. “It’s easier if you research it, so I’ll tell you what you need to look up, but basically, it’s sensory overload when one’s senses become overwhelmed by external stimuli.”

“I see.” Fukuzawa didn’t really, but he figured that was why she was going out of her way to write down what he needed so that he could figure it out. “And when it happens… you just take them somewhere quiet.”

“If you catch it early, then yes, but if it’s a more severe episode, it’s usually just easier to go home where they can be comfortable in a familiar environment.” The mother tears a few pages from the notebook and holds them out towards Fukuzawa. “Here, this should help. I hope everything goes well for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to help as well. You didn’t have to.” Fukuzawa said as he looked at the paper, seeing a list of websites along with a very small list of what looked to be the names of a few clinics within Yokohama.

“Of course I had to!” The mother huffed, although she was smiling. “Parenting is hard, so you shouldn’t be afraid to ask for help if there’s something you don’t understand. Good luck mister!”

Fukuzawa watched the mother walk away with her own child before realizing that Ranpo was still waiting outside for him and that he still had to go through the checkout and pay for the groceries. He sighed, pushing the cart towards the entrance; maybe going on a shopping trip the day after acquiring a child he knew nothing about wasn’t the smartest of ideas.

“Apologies for making you wait.” Fukuzawa said as he approached the spot he’d left Ranpo at. The teen was still sitting on the ground, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt, but he did look up at Fukuzawa’s approach.

“It’s fine.” Ranpo mumbled, dropping his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For overreacting.”

Fukuzawa blinked, and then frowned, before he moved to crouch in front of Ranpo. “You don’t need to apologize for something you couldn’t help. I should be the one apologizing for not realizing sooner.” He paused for a moment. “May I ask you something?”

Ranpo lifted his gaze and nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Green eyes looked away from him, and shoulders raised in a shrug. “Dunno.”

“Has it always been a problem? The sensory issues I mean?” Fukuzawa tried to be gentle in his wording, sensing that it was a sensitive topic, and was proven correct when Ranpo visibly tensed.

“Yeah…”

“Alright.” Fukuzawa stood and offered a hand to Ranpo, and pulled the boy to his feet when he took it. Fukuzawa turned on his heel and picked up the shopping backs before he set off in the direction of home.

Ranpo stared at him as he followed close behind. “That’s it?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t think I’m… a problem?” Ranpo whispered, and the uncertainty in his voice made Fukuzawa stop and turn to look at the boy.

“Not at all. It’s simply an obstacle we will have to adapt and overcome together. You aren’t alone anymore, Ranpo, you can rely on me when you’re struggling.”

Ranpo hummed and fell silent. And while Fukuzawa should be bothered by such a response, he wasn’t. It didn’t come as a surprise to know that despite Ranpo having faith in him, the boy didn’t trust him. Not yet anyway.

But in time, that trust would come.

He was certain of it.

[blackjackkent]

We did it, folks! After literal years of on-and-off liveblogging I have finally completed Baldur's Gate 2: Shadows of Amn!

(And am thrust directly into Throne of Bhaal, but that's another post. :D )

I have to say, after everything leading up to it, the final celebration with the elves felt a little bit like an anticlimax. Though Ellesime did give us a very nice speech.

And that's that!

The game then headed off into a series of two very interesting cutscenes back to back, which I'm just going to link here in their entirety because I don't think screencaps would do them justice. (Check out the animation on Irenicus's face -- pretty goddamn well executed.)

TLDR: Irenicus remains in hell, gets consumed by three billion little imp demon things and burns forever, and it could not have happened to a nicer guy. And some folks sitting around a table with Bhaal's symbol on it are very concerned about Caden becoming "too powerful", but that there is "no reason to be concerned" because his fate has "already been sealed" and "the spawn of Bhaal is doomed."

That seems uh. Concerning.

I need to eat, so we're going to leave it on that mini-cliffhanger and I will continue with Throne of Bhaal very soon! Excited to see how Caden's story is going to wrap up!

Thanks as always to everyone who's been following this story along and enjoying it. <3

[linagram]

[meet the prisoners! (t2 edition) ] prisoner 006: yoshioka eiko

wow another prisoner that was so hard to draw it's eiko's turn!! btw i just realized that there's four profiles left soooo yeah i'm excited to start posting their vds after that! :D though i will most likely manage to post only one or two this month. girl help summer is going to end so soon..

General info.

T1 Verdict. Eiko was voted innocent and she found it a bit surprising at first, but accepted it very quickly. Of course, she teased Eiji a lot and said things like "Oh, you did it to make me like you more, didn't you?" and "Hehe, I knew you like me". Thanks to her verdict, she got a new outfit and she also has a different hairstyle now. She isn't as happy about being forgiven as Shun, but she also isn't asking for a guilty verdict, she's just okay with it. She just finds it interesting how she was forgiven, but a 16 year old boy and a girl who was.. uh.. "apparently stalked" weren't. Heh, the guards sure have their favorites. Though to be honest, she kinda had a feeling that she will end up being voted innocent even though her crime sounds so unreasonably cruel. Maybe the guards think there must be more to it?.. Hm, well, if that's the case, she will give them all the truth that they want.

T2 Personality: It's hard to describe Eiko's T2 version, because it's like.. at first it seems like she hasn't really changed, but her personality still feels very different. She's still her usual self, she's still chilling, she doesn't care about what happens to her, but it's like she's more.. curious about this place now? She doesn't ask the guards anything though, simply because she knows they don't have any answers either. They've got way too much power in their hands and don't know what to do with it. She doesn't really try to investigate anything either, she just keeps all of her questions inside her head. Trying to uncover the secrets of this place is Reina's job anyway. But hey, she's grateful to Eiji and Miki for "saving" her! She even came up with a very.. "fun" way to thank Eiji specifically. But more about that in her VD. Interestingly, I can't say that she's more "manipulative" now or anything like that, because Eiko claims that Shun is acting like that not because of her, but only because he's that happy that he was forgiven. When it comes to her relationship with Kei though.. Haha, that's not her becoming more "evil" or anything, that's just her being her.

T2 Relationship dynamics.

No, she doesn't actually care about Shun that much. Even his looks are not helping anymore, which is funny to think about, since she was the one who cut his hair for him. But it's fun to have a tall and surprisingly strong guy follow you around everywhere, being ready to do anything for you while also claiming that he's the more dominant one in this relationship. Eh, she'll just let him dream for now. Also having him around is very useful, since he's basically her bodyguard in a way and even though most prisoners like or at least tolerate Eiko, she still wants to be careful. Yurika's actions in particular worry her a little. What? No, no, it's not like she's afraid of being killed by her, the guards won't let that happen. If Yurika does anything to her hair, nails or clothes though, Eiji will have to try his best to stop Eiko from trying to kill her right there.

Fine, yes, the way she treats Kei is.. not good, so what? Didn't the guards vote him guilty? Doesn't he deserve it? Call her the third guard, she's helping them do their job. It may sound weird or out of character for her, but considering that this is the girl who killed a guy for "lying to her".. Yeah, maybe her morals are stronger than they seem. And again, she doesn't have any serious feelings for him at all, she doesn't love him, but she also doesn't hate him. And Kei knows why she's doing all of this to him and it's not like he tried to say no to her, so.. Yay! She also helps him leave his cell and walk around, so he should be grateful to her, right?

Her relationship with Eiji has changed a little bit, but mostly on her side. If in season 1 she just teased him, complimented him and all of that stuff, now she's actually kind of.. protective over him? It's very subtle, sure, but it's still there. She makes sure he doesn't overwork himself and there even was a time when she asked for a new pillow since hers "wasn't soft enough" and then she gave it to Eiji because "he looked so tired, she thought he's not getting enough sleep". Eiji getting annoyed and tired more easily actually does worry her a little, especially because this guy loves Milgram so much and it's like.. a "safe space" to him, if it's even possible to call it that. If even this prison's biggest fan is not doing good, there's no chance for anyone to find happiness in this place.

Music info.

Milgram cover: Okay, so here's a fun little story: so Eiko was supposed to be voted guilty canonically and I really did think that she will get voted guilty even though I had some ideas for her "Innocent" version and I already had her "Guilty" version profile prepared AND THEN I GOT HIT WITH HER GETTING 81.8% INNOCENT. I'M STILL NOT OVER IT. So. Uh. Y-yeah, I had to go and change some stuff quickly. Anyway, she gets Umbilical as her Innocent cover, because there's.. not really that many songs that fit her Innocent version and yay, if we're counting her T1 cover, she's officially a Yuno kinnie now! (Though they feel very different to me) But seriously, the lyrics actually do fit her (and her relationship with her victim) a lot, especially now that I'm looking at her T2 VD. Ah, and the reason why I've mentioned her Guilty version is because she was supposed to get MeMe in that case. S-so, uh, have fun with that information &lt;;3 We all know who gets MeMe this time though, don't we.

DECO*27 cover: She gets Status Effect: Girlfriend! I think even the title fits her, haha.

Different Vocaloid producer cover: She gets Runway no Fantasista by Tokotoko! I think the vibe is very Eikocore and some lyrics actually hint to what kind of person she was like before meeting her victim ("Of course, love and romance isn't my everything, but getting intoxicated once in a while isn't that bad", "Don't worry about being lonely, the successful ones are always alone")

Her T2 Trailer Voicelines:

"Hiiii~ Oh, I've missed you two so much! Especially you, Eiji-kun~ Yes, yes, I know, it's only been a day, but you two are just so nice to me! So, this is gonna be the second trial, right? I see, I see.. Well, don't push yourself too hard, okay? And just a reminder that I will answer any questions you have- Hm? Eiji-kun, is it just me, or you look like you're about to pass out?"

"Wow, you look better than I expected! Haha, come on, darling, don't be shy~ Hm? What do I mean by that? Oh.. It's just that I had expected to find you in a hospital, covered in bandages and looking like you're going to die at any second."

Her T2 Song Trailer Voiceline:

"I feel like I just knew that you will forgive me."

Trivia.

She wasn't going to change her hairstyle at first, but then she got inspired after giving Shun a haircut, though she didn't want to cut her own hair and changed it only a little bit. She prefers her hair to be long actually.

She also never asked for a new outfit and Miki got it for her because.. uh.. she thought Eiko probably feels too cold in her prison uniform, considering how much skin it's showing. Eiko actually found it cute and thanked her. (Though it didn't help much and her outfit is still pretty revealing.. Eiko is totally okay with that though.)

She's still okay with any decision the guards are going to make, since she still believes she's innocent and they can't do anything to change her opinion, so there's no point in her arguing with them. 

[bcofl0ve]

I wouldn't get my hopes up too much about any quick announcements re: City on Fire. Don Winslow has a new book to sell, so he's building up hype for it, but I imagine him blabbing his mouth on Twitter about the film will be shut down very soon (like, that Matt Damon namedrop seemed completely unsanctioned at worst and wishful thinking at best – not in a million years would something like that would be announced via a random tweet). They don't even have a script, there's no director – there's a loooong way to go before any more proper announcements. I won't be mad if I'm proven wrong, though.

And on a similar note, I saw some people bummed about no Bikeriders at Cannes – that one I understand, but if it's not ready, it's not ready (at least according to Thierry Frémaux). Just because there were test screenings happening and those who were there thought it looked ~90% done, doesn't mean that it's actually ready to be screened publicly, we don't know what the inner workings there are and what Jeff Nichols wants – and if he needs more time, give it to him, he knows what he's doing, his previous films have been insanely good. (A better question is – where's Poor Things in that lineup, since that was shot almost two years ago and Yorgos Lanthimos has almost finished another film by now, but I digress.)

And Dune, which some seemed to expect too, was never ever going to happen at Cannes – Venice was the best bet, but they already announced that it's not going there either. CinemaCon is happening very soon, though, so maybe some new pics or even a trailer might come out of that (or – since it's very much a trade, not fan event – at least a description of a trailer if they show one there).

Eek, sorry for the length. But I find this a lot more fun than Austin relationship talk. :D

i also like talking about this more than discoursing about kaia but again with the whole i talk about what i get anons about thing 😭. so using this as a post to say y’all pls send things about austin’s projects for us to discuss!!!

the matt damon thing was about a diff book adaption entirely LOL. but yeah. i really like don and have nothing against the man, and i did get the vibe he may be a little ‘too’ excited and talking ahead of himself. though i hope if nothing else he nabs a selfie with austin at the production meeting happening this week 🙏🏼. and the og press release did say this movie is a big priority for Sony, so i do think things will move quite fast once the ball is actually rolling re: production meetings starting/more groundwork being laid etc.

and agree about bikeriders! it’s unfortunate in that i got the vibe from that article that mr.cannes did want it there, it just wasn’t ready. trusting the process though! and i of course would prefer a great final product premiering somewhere else vs something ‘sloppy’ premiering at cannes y’know?

i am pumped for cinemacon, including for news on non-austin projects, and am crossing my fingers praying manifesting etc we get some dune 2 something there.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Happy Valentine's Day

!another old and never posted fic. expect a few of these!

Demus (Janus x Remus) Warnings: food play, biting, blowjobs, hair pulling

Remus immediately jumps at the sharp knock on his door. No one ever came to visit him anymore, and now that someone was here, he was ecstatic.

He momentarily wonders who it could be. Most of the others would be busy on Valentine's Day. Patton and Roman would busy themselves making sweet baked goods and treats for the others, Logan would be organizing a few fun activities, and Virgil would be overseeing it all to make sure none of those idiots died.

Which left the one and only Janus. A traitor.

Admittedly, though, Remus finds himself thrilled at the prospect of getting to see him again.

He throws open his door, and is greeted with none other than Janus, who he ultimate expected anyway. A grin creeps onto his face, delighted, clearly, at the fact anyone came to visit him, but mostly just doing it because he knows the malicious undertones that he hides beneath said smile.

"Hey there, Double-D!" Remus greets him, with an intense amount of energy. Despite the fact Janus literally left him alone without warning, Remus was still excited he came to visit.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Remus," Janus responds, strolling into Remus's room without a second thought. That's when Remus notices he's holding a a bag behind his back, which immediately has him curious.

"You don't even like Valentine's Day," Remus states, as he closes their door behind them. "You say it's a bullshit Hallmark holiday used to expand their market nearly year round."

"It is," Janus says, with a shrug, before pulling the bag up and away from Remus's grasp as the intrusive side attempted to lunge for it. "But I understand that there are some Valentine's Day customs that you enjoy."

"I enjoy gorging on food," Remus says, with a huff. "And the sex."

Janus grins, sitting down on Remus's bed without a second thought as to what questionable substances may have stained it. He pats his lap, and Remus doesn't have to think twice before he's scrambling to sit on it.

He happily straddles Janus's lap (and maybe he attempts to reach behind Janus and grab the bag. Janus tuts, and Remus stops, whining all the while.

"Hush," Janus says, rolling his eyes. "You'll find out what's in there soon enough. For now, tell me how you've been."

"I've been mad at you," Remus states, with a huff. "Now, what's in the bag?"

"Because I left?"

"Because you left without a goodbye." Remus's squared shoulders fall, and his face contorts into a pout. "And didn't come back until months later. A.K.A.: right now."

"I'm not sorry, Remus," Janus says, and the eye roll that happens afterwards makes Remus fight to suppress a grin.

"You're not forgiven," he mocks, before cupping Janus's face. "Now tell me what's in the bag, or I'll bite your fucking nose off." He's smiling, adoringly, lightly rubbing over Janus's face, despite the all-too-real threat. Janus smiles back, softly, as one of his hands rub Remus's hip, while the other pulls the bag out in front of them.

Remus doesn't hesitate before tearing into the bag. Inside was a can of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and a container of cherries.

Remus looks at them, and then back at Janus, before back at the food.

It's clear his overactive mind is already determining all the things he could do with the things he was given, but he's unsure if what he's thinking is what Janus intended.

Janus just smiles though, pressing a sickeningly sweet kiss to Remus's lips, before scooting back and shoving Remus off his lap. Remus falls back on the bed, but he quickly scrambles to get back on his knees and watch Janus slowly rid himself of his clothes.

He's slow on purpose, in order to tease Remus, but Remus doesn't matter. He just stares at Janus with wide eyes, excited and... hopeful that they're finally going to be close again.

Even if it's just for one night, and even if Janus was probably doing this for his own benefit.

Remus tosses the bag to the side, trying to hold all the contents within at once, before he tosses them to the side in favor of pinning Janus down the moment he peels away his boxers.

It's been way too long since he's seen Janus nude, and he's admittedly missed it way too much.

He's quick to pull Janus in for another kiss, his hands already wandering over Janus's nude body. His nails lightly scrape over Janus's sensitive scales, drawing a hiss from him - a noise that makes Remus grin.

Despite not getting to touch him like this in months, Remus still knew exactly what his body looked like, and where he was most sensitive. How could he?

He bites Janus's bottom lip, his sharp teeth cutting into Janus, but that just earns a whine.

"You've missed me, right?" Remus asks, covering his genuine curiosity and hopefulness with a teasing tone. "You sound like you've missed me."

"I have," Janus admits, watching Remus closely as he sits up and grabs the whipped cream.

Remus hums in delight, before turning back to Janus. "I get to use this on you, right?" he asks, quickly uncapping the whipped cream before spraying some onto his hand as a test. When it works, his wiggles in glee, before quickly eating it out of his hand.

"Yeah."

"Oooo!" Remus's grin widens. "I can't wait to eat you up like the delicious bitch you are!" He scoots the syrup and cherries closer to Janus so he can grab them when he wants, before he immediately starts spraying the whipped cream over Janus's body.

He adds some to his nipples and down Janus's stomach, before circling over Janus's semi-hard cocks with the whipped cream.

He takes the chocolate syrup next, squeezing some into his mouth, before he turns back to Janus and licks his lips. He drizzles the syrup surprisingly calmly over Janus's body, specifically making sure to squeeze some over where the whipped cream is, but makes a mess of his Janus's chest and thighs as well.

Janus hisses at the temperature of the syrup, cursing at himself for getting something so cold, but loving the way it made him shiver.

After he finished that, Remus grabbed the contained of cherries and set them over Janus's whipped cream covered nipples, and down the line of whipped cream on his stomach.

Afterwards, he tossed the container carelessly to the side, before staring down at Janus hungrily.

"Oh, Jay, you look delicious. I can't wait to eat you up," he says, before pulling out his phone. "Can I take a picture of you? I definitely want to get off to this later."

"Knock yourself out."

Remus does a little fist bump before quickly snapping a picture of Janus's messy (but delicious looking) body. He saves it to a specific album titled "J-anus NSFW" (which was quite filled with pictures) before carelessly tossing his phone to the side and immediately leaning over Janus.

He doesn't wait before beginning to lick up the whipped cream over Janus's body, starting at his nipples. His lips are connected to Janus's skin, licking up and swallowing the treat, before biting down hard on the cherry and snapping his sharp teeth down dangerously close to Janus's nipple.

Janus shivers, moaning and squirming slightly as Remus happily licks and sucks at his nipple, and eventually Remus grabs Janus's hips and holds him still, smearing some of the chocolate syrup over him in the process.

One of Janus's hands tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on it as encouragement, which Remus definitely enjoys as it prompts him to lightly bite down on Janus's nipple. After a few more teasing sucks, he pulls away, before immediately doing the same thing to Janus's other nipple.

Janus's quiet whines only spur Remus on, and he ends up sucking around Janus's nipple in order to form a hickey. Pulling away, and deciding he quite likes the sight, he kisses over Janus's neck and shoulders, before biting hard into the skin, easily puncturing it. He laps at the blood that drips from the wound, before sucking on the mark in order to create a hickey.

He does that over the expanse of skin over Janus's neck and collarbones, and occasionally drags his teeth over Janus's scales earning hisses and sharp intakes that delight Remus to no end.

After marking him up a suitable amount, Remus goes back to actually eating the food off of him.

He licks up the chocolate drizzle over Janus's chest, before mouthing at the whipped cream over his stomach. He rolls his hips against the bed, achingly hard just from listening to Janus's pathetic moans.

It's been way too long.

"You're pathetic," Remus then says, licking his lips (and doing ultimately nothing to honestly get the whipped cream off his face). "I lick and bite you a few times and your pathetic cocks are already leaking?" Remus's words were filled with hypocrisy, considering he was hard and leaking in his own pants, but he couldn't help getting so worked up at the sight of Janus looking so vulnerable and so delicious beneath him.

Remus scoots back in order to bend down and lick a stripe up one of Janus's cocks, gathering some whipped cream on the tip of his tongue when he did so.

Janus attempts to buck his hips up, which further prompts Remus to dig his sharp nails into Janus's hips and hold him steady. He's inconsiderate with how hard he's holding Janus, but it's not like Janus seems to care anyway, moaning at the sensation of Remus's nails puncturing his skin.

He moves away from Janus's cock, instead lapping at the chocolate syrup drizzled over Janus's thighs. He's quick to try and lick up as much of the chocolate as he can, before he's back to biting. He sucks deep marks into Janus's thighs, being weary of his scales but otherwise careless with how hard he bites and the marks that he makes.

At least with all these reminders Janus would have a hard time forgetting him again.

After many marks, however, Janus finally whines out a "please" that gets Remus's attention.

"Please what, Jay?" Remus asks, teasingly.

Janus groans, albeit playfully, before whining out "please touch my cocks, Remus." Remus, being the eager cockslut he is, doesn't need to be asked twice.

He quickly starts licking around the base of Janus's cocks where he had sprayed a majority of the whipped cream. He sucks around the base, before dragging his tongue up one of Janus's cocks, all the while one of his hands is slowly stroking the other one. He licks up the precum leaking from Janus's cock, before he takes one of Janus's cocks into his mouth without warning.

His tongue teases over the slit, before he sinks his head down quickly, deepthroating Janus with little hesitation. He moans around Janus's cock as his free hand quickly palms himself, and his other hand speeds up on Janus's other cock.

After a few moments, he pulls off of Janus's cock, moving his hand away from his own clothed cock and onto Janus's other cock, stroking them in tune with one another.

"You know I enjoy ruining your small body, Jay, but would you please come on my face? I want you to make a mess of me, Janus, please!" Remus begs without a second thought, before opening his mouth wide and letting his tongue hang out, allowing Janus a perfect canvas to come across.

And, well, Janus doesn't have to be told twice. With a cry of Remus's name, both of his cocks come over Remus's face, easily messing it up. A fair amount also lands in Remus's mouth, and he swallows it greedily, before gathering some of the come off of his face and eagerly scooping into his mouth.

"You've always been a snack as a whole, but your come somehow tastes the best," Remus says, matter-of-factly. He softens, momentarily, leaning over to kiss Janus's nose. "Thank you for this, by the way. Being able to see you and suck you off again was the best gift I could get for Valentine's Day." Even though Valentine's Day is a pointless holiday, it still gave Janus an excuse to see him again, and Remus was relieved for some company.

But, he was not ready to let Janus leave by any means.

His hands slowly start back up again, earning a pitiful whine from Janus. "Do you think you can come again for me, Jan? Just for me?" He bats his eyes innocently, squealing at the nod and tired "yes," he earns, before he pulls Janus in for a messy kiss that tasted bitter.

He wouldn't let Janus leave afterwards, either. He'd at least let Janus off with just coming once more, but Remus would still want to get off. And he'd definitely want to cuddle before Janus eventually left him again.

Hopefully, he'd start coming around more often, although with their track record, that would lead to them both just simply coming more often, as well.

[aleksa-sims]

RL Simself-Story (18+)

CW: addiction, labor, relapse

It was time! Sandra was in labor and her baby will be born soon. She was a bit afraid of it, but who wouldn’t? Delivering a baby is not a cakewalk. More about Sandra & her baby when I see them. ❤️

Well, and as far as I was concerned, yesterday at my b-day I promised my parents to quit, but I had to do it one last time! Daniel was skeptical, but he agreed. Well, it wasn’t easy & It never will. This damn thing always stood between us. Idk if we could make it today? I think now after all these years, YES! Still you never know! It’s just a moment of weakness and you’re back... ..You know?😔 I don’t wanna lie! I actually became weak about a year after my son was born. It was only once, but, this should NEVER have happened!!!!!!😔🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️You don’t have to read on from here. I’m just telling you how it happened and how it was for me after I had my baby. Later I will explain what led to this. It was a certain person who put us in this situation, but it wasn’t Nico or Philip! I mean, they weren’t the triggers for my.... misstep.

I had to see Daniel again, so I took the risk. It happened a year after my son was born. 😢 I went through a very difficult time. I was always alone and couldn’t count on Nico. He wasn't there & busy with soccer. Philip helped me! He was there for me & my baby, but also my parents. Nico had nothing against Philip spending so much time with me. Not initially! That way he could focus on his soccer career without worrying about me. But that’s not what I wanted! Nico & Philip didn’t care! They started playing their games with me again. Not on purpose! It all happend so.....insidiously, but the more time passed, the more complicated everything became. Nico was back home more often and when he saw P., me & our baby so familiar with each other, he became jealous. It didn’t take long and Philip started to freak out too, which was no surprise or something new for me, but I was SICK of them!! And then there was Daniel! I was unhappy with my life and had to think of this one thing that he and I decided to do together. What I mean by that, I will tell soon. In any case, I felt I had to see him again. And I don’t want to be with two men who play with me and constantly hurt me. I also hurt them & I know they love me but....NO! So I started meeting D. First secretly and then later..... everything was broken anyway. I know I cheated, but that’s what Nico, (but also Philip) "taught" me and I didn’t trust him either. 😔 However, D. & I had done it again! We took that damn drug, 🤦🏻‍♀️😢 but we haven’t really relapsed. Still, I was so scared of it & he even more. One day I’m gonna end up in a loony bin, I though and I can’t lose my baby! I began to understand that Daniel and I are no longer allowed to see each other. At least not constantly, but.... I was so happy with him. 😢 And my little one liked him too, he loved being with him. Whenever he sees him, even now, he’s so excited, but yea.😔....My son was only 18 months old when this happened. And Nico & I had a LOT to clarify after that! Especially how it should go on with us and also with Philip there was a lot to discuss....But I’m not going to start with that now!! This thing is another chapter that I can’t explain in just a few sentences.

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Start

[esparafuso]

Monday, November 7th, 2022

Dear Diary, where do I even begin. Perhaps saying I still can't believe I saw my favourite band performing live for the first time.

I'm an anxious person and shows always seemed so far away from me, from where I lived and from what I thought I'd have the guts of attending. If it wasn't for my friend Lya (@/sorethpid) I'd perhaps still be dreaming about how cool it would be if I lived the same experience I keep seeing others have for years and years.

In an impulse, we bought tickets for Primavera Sound 2022 happening in São Paulo. It wasn't cheap, but both of us had savings and were crazy enough to spend it on a ticket and flight tickets and a hotel room.

We live in different states, so it was thrilling to meet her again (third time personally), as we met on the internet 6 years ago here on tumblr, two artists drawing Arctic Monkeys fanart and rambling to the other about our favourite things about them, and our favourite album, and how much we wish we had the chance of hearing them live.

It happened on Saturday, November 5th. Her first festival, my first show ever in life, we got to the place and tried to keep it cool among all the stylish people around. It was okay though, we were just happy to be there. We decided to buy two donuts (we admittedly didn't plan food very well, too anxious to get to the place already) and after a couple stops we headed to the stage to take a look, but decided to stay there already when we saw the narrow place and the realisation that soon the whole thing would be packed w ppl hit us (later on, we saw we would better had stopped by a nearby bathroom for Lya, but okay)

The gig would start at 10pm, and we were there at 4:30pm. We got to know the music of a sweet artist called Helado Negro, which we supported and danced along even not knowing the lyrics. One hour and a half break, and then came Interpol. I personally didn't listen to the band much, but they kicked ass and made everyone super pumped and jumpy (myself included). Another one hour and a half before AM.

Gigs aren't kind to shorter ppl, we learned that. We tried our best to adjust and see the stage (which was actually way closer than we expected to get) and managed with some struggle. Our boots were also a literal pain, and I don't remember feeling my feet hurting this bad in my life, to the point I had to keep dancing to keep the pain manageable - only forgotten when an artist was performing. Especially the ones we were dying to see more.

Seeing the stage being set up made us already excited. Matt's golden drumkit, Nick's bass, Alex's and Jamie's guitars going through the soundproof, curtains being set on the back of the stage - we saw THREE regular sized disco balls being brought up when Interpol's stage was being set, and we knew who they belonged to, and yet they didn't make it to the final thing for AM.

After 3 false alarms, here they come. Screams ringing in my ear, I saw those four men (plus two) walk into my sight of vision and I can't even describe how I felt. They quickly assumed positions and the heavy synth of Sculptures resonated from the speakers - the The Car song we were more hopeful they would perform (we didn't even know they had played it before in Rio).

the photos really aren't the strongest bcs of how overwhelmed I was and the little space in my phone (another thing I forgot to prepare properly, like an idiot)... some recordings didn't go through, like Potion approaching, which made me sad but at least I got some :'D

I wish I could put here what my eyes saw, because I could see their FACIAL FEATURES from where I was, which was unbelievable close in my book. I managed to save the recording of Pretty Visitors, really hoping to get my beloved Agile Beast's crazy good drumming

I recorded another for Do Me a Favour, my favourite Arctic Monkeys song, where I kept shaking from crying but can't upload here pls of Tumblr's limit of videos in a post.

The whole time I sang and danced and screamed and cried, I just kept repeating in my head that they were real people, they existed, they weren't a fever dream or a gif or a video I saw on the internet, they were living humans right in front of me, and up until now I can't wrap my head around the fact I stood so close to them. I listened to them sing and play a few meters away from me, I could feel Matt's drums resonating in my heart, I saw Nick on the side looking SO soft, Jamie being the closest one, doing his little quirks and hops, Alex singing and dancing and. being a goofie, Matt playing and singing and making me absolutely lose it.

Even now typing all this makes me cry becasue I know I will never forget this experience. I just love and appreciate this band so much. I'm not the fan that knows all the lyrics of ALL songs yet, and I don't have their physical merch and albums, and this was only the first time I saw them live, but they hold a very special and meaningful place in my life that I will never forget.

The crowd overall was amazing, we sang everything they put out, screamed our lungs out and clapped and threw our hands in the air and pleaded them to come back. They waved to everyone and Alex threw us many kisses, and I hope they enjoyed their night as much as we basked in their presence.

Leaving the festival was very difficult due to bad logistics, my feet were incredibly sore, it was super cold outside and hundreds of ppl couldn't get a ride back home for the life of us - but we managed. And even then, when we arrived at the hotel, the only memory in our minds was their presence and their music still buzzing in our heads and hearts.

I hope we will have the chance of going to another one - we sure are thirsty for more now that we saw that it IS possible to see them live - but until then: Thank you Monkeys for this unforgettable night, and for existing and making us feel such strong emotions with your amazing music and journey as a band overall.

P.s.: thank you also whoever recorded the gig properly, because then we can see everything we lived in another, high definition angle, for the rest of our lives.

[the-official-account]

episode 24 B)

Okay so last episode was intense and I'm raring to find out what happens next, but I'm EXTRA excited because I've been curious what this episodes title is about since literally my very first listen. another so-while-drawing so if commentary is slightly unhinged/sparse you know why

"EXCEPT WAIT DIAMONDS IN THE ROOM" mood bestie fuck

and ajsrlfhadsjhfaskf Vellum gets THREE drinks. Circular snacks....

ALJJAFSDGL;AJSFD "is it a nice shot of his booty?" the good side is the backside ;)

"but she does touch her beak to your forhead" awhhhhhhh!!! Penumbra podcast has made me permanently associate bird-woman kisses with the most heart wrenching gestures of affection one has ever encountered

HE GOES TO DRAW HIS SWORDS AND THEN ITS NOT THERE SO HE DRAWS HIS GUN

Diamond does not deserve any fucking donuts, everyone gets donuts BUT diamond. and yeah!! grey IS in town!!!

"no i successfully--" shut uuuuuup asdfjhasdlfasdf

THEY DID NOT JUST CALL BRUNHILDE-- MY FUCKING BRUNHILDE, MY FAVORITE AUNT, LIGHTS OF MY LIFE, PRIMODONNA BLORBOESS, A FUCKING REBOUND???? A REBOUND???? BITCH THEY ARE MARRIED.

"he brought back oolong" noooo!!!!

"I have never hated a person so much, i wanted to do violence just now :D!" ANYAAAA LMAOOOO

"spar looks relieved" awhhhhhh they're so precious!!! I'm gonna crush them in a vice

;asdfasldfasdf spar and jakub's eyebrow conversation is soooo good. god i adore them sm

LASJHFA;LSDFJASDF GOD I FORGOT HE CAN CLIMB WALLS. AND HE JUST DOES THIS IN FRONT OF JAKUB LMAOOO

"they're a flystander because it's high up"

I need to write a fic where, like, Ipswitch is visiting Vassa Natura and Jakub has him step inside briefly while he goes to grab his coat or something and then is like "wait lemme show him the closet he'll probably like that" and is confused as to why Ipswitch is treating this like he just handed him a copy of his key

These consecutive jokers are hilarious. Safety checks matter, Essay!!! XDDD

AWHHHHH THE NOSE BUMP KISS

HE LEARNED EMBROIDERY. AWH.

ILA KNOWS TAEKWONDO? VERY COOL

RAISED BY A TRIBE OF ELVEN ACCOUNTANTS THAT INVENTED ZERO IM DEEEEEEAAAAD.

I'm SO excited for the quiet year series

I'm having so much fun :) I missed Grey

I think it's high time to upgrade diamond from "person of interest" to "suspect"

greggginnnnns <3<3

og course vellum and grey start tinkering kdlsjf;asdfjasdf they're so family. GREY HUH!!! :0 YAYYYYY

Grey and Diamond better not fucking be an item rn.

I need vellum and spar to hug so bad rn.

"wait...jack's missing?" asjdhf;ladsjkfa;sdjlk

i need them to hug SO SO BAD.

The forearm squeeze. WAH

spar was vulnerable for 2.5 seconds and then pulled back like he was burned al;dsjfa;lkdjf

"why were you scared?" "Spar looks at vellum like he's stupid" AWHHHHHH AWHHH THE QUICK LITTLE KISS IM. THATS SO CUUUTEEEE. your honor they love eachother!!!!

i NEED max and vellum to be friends so bad. I need them to have that friends-to-siblings arc i NEED this

OH. DAMN.

"Hey uh. Max. I've been wanting to meet you--" "Sorry my mom killed your parents and then herself." "......uh. Yeah" LJSHDALG;AHSDGF LIKE IMAGINE THAT CONVERSATION-- FUCK.

I was kinda close about the werekid situation though!!! Max sure is a kid of a were!

Vellum and grey's relationship is something that can be SO precious in my heart <3

Vellum is gonna be such a good big brother he's gonna be SUCH a good brother he's gonna be SOOOOOOO THEY"RE A FUCKING FAMILY YOUR HONOR!!!!! YOUR HONOR!!!!!!!

"First i need to confess something" i am instantly so suspicious again. "none of this is gonna matter soon" THATS NOT A REASSURING THING

THE SPIKE WAS FAKED????

"What I want to do with the radiotower is unethical" I at least respect the self awareness

OHHHHHH SHIT PROVIDENCE IS THE DECK!!! THAT'S WHY NOTHING HAPPENED IN CINDERSHORE, I WAS SO CONVINCED THAT WAS SOME KINDA CHAOS GOD

sometimes I forget that vellum got a little misery after drawing that card and I just keep laughing.

"some thing that providence is a god" HAHAHA BITCH IM BACK IN THE GAME

"how can we even control it to accomplish your goal?" You gotta sacrifice something messy and big, i think......If bridge is to be believed.

"The cards don't get destroyed after?" AJSHDFAL;DSFHASDKFH THE ONE YOUR BURNED YEAH-- THAT BITCH REFUUUSED TO DIE

Spar is absolutely not gonna be on board with the providence thingg. However finding a way to contain it would be ideal. Though if providences IS a god that might not be possible at all.

"NOW I WANNA GO MEET YOUR BOYFRIEND" MY JAW DROOOOOOOOPPED. LMAOOOOOOOOO

L;KASFDGFAL;SDFASDF NOT ME THINKING THERE WERE AD AT THE END.

Okay.....episode 25 is the last ep up and I'm gonna be kinda busy tomorrow so I think I might just....just go for it! Why not! I'm not scared at all hahahahhaha!!! having the bonus content to cushion my fall will be nice too. but god i just need to know what grey says to spar askjfl;asdjfa;sdf

@threeheartscast