#were they scared? frustrated? shocked? vindicated?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Not sure if this is where you want your asks to be sent or not, I'm new to your blog so sorry if this is the wrong place

There is another instruction for Wally that I haven't seen you talk about and I want to know your thoughts! Back in november, before the responses, the secret URLs (such as woxyve) had the word "delete" added to the end (ex: woxyvedelete) implying that they wanted Wally to delete the page. After this most recent update it changed again and now says nodelete meaning that Wally refused to do that task. Thoughts?

where else would asks be sent if not the Askbox! inbox! both!

i actually wasn't aware of this until a few days ago, when i saw a post pointing it out - i had never gone directly back to those pages. which serves me right! i'm gonna be double checking Everything from now on lmao

but my fucking GOD is it interesting. thus far Wally has been... fairly cooperative. he's had a moment here and there, such as closing the guest book and losing his patience a lil, but he does his best with the rest! especially with requests! so for him to straight up go "lmao nah" when asked to delete something...

characterization-wise, i think it's very telling. as of now, Wally has been commonly portrayed as a bit of a doormat - getting talked over, sitting off to the side, being a bit of a background character - in in-Home media. less so in his whrp/qa/You interactions, but he's still widely agreeable & willing. but him refusing to delete the urls gives major points to him Having A Spine. he's holding his ground. he knows what he's doing. he's not going to let the whrp shut him up. there's a Thought Process / Plan / Purpose being shown here, or at least hinted at. there's a sense of.... Control. of "this is the way we're doing things, this is what i'm saying and you're going to sit down and listen" it's just... such a shift from the Wally we see in his interactions with the neighbors. which again, lends credence to there being a time discrepancy, with whrp Wally being older and more "experienced" while past Wally is still figuring his shit [being alive] out <3

story-wise it adds some Delightful friction. like obviously there's already tension, what with the staff only page, "Let Me In", the mysterious black stuff, the guest book closing, and the whrp/qa being disturbed by it all. but Wally outright refusing to delete things is a Different sort of conflict. it's more... direct. which makes sense! his interactions with the whrp/qa are becoming more personal, too. but it lends to the feeling of a push-pull. as the whrp/qa investigates Wally and starts treating him like the person he is instead of a long-lost character, they're probably gonna clash (a lot) despite the apparent impulse to pursue Welcome Home. currently, Wally doesn't seem big on compromising. if he doesn't know what to do, it looks like he simply Won't or he'll do his own thing and be like "shrug". if he doesn't want to do something, it also looks like he simply Will Not.

of course, there's the strong possibility that the whrp Were Not Serious about it. the 'delete' command might have them testing the waters, poking the bear, etc. but then were they testing to see if Wally is there, or were they testing his level of compliance? both? a secret third option?

and if they Were serious about it... why? what is it about the marked urls that made the whrp go "get that outta here"? and why couldn't they delete it themselves? i mean, obviously they can't delete anything Wally adds, otherwise the extra stuff he's added probably wouldn't be there (unless the impulse / curiosity driving them is too strong to delete anything added). but there's still a why about it. what changed so fundamentally in the site's code - or laws of physics/reality - that made it impossible to alter Wally's additions?

it's just. i feel that there are a lot of implications in such a small interaction. it shows more than one would expect.

[sepublic]

The general frustrated me a lot. I can kind of understand him not thinking he had a shot with her unless he was human (he was still blind, but I understand) , but once they are literally married, and very in love (the wedding vows were so sweet my God, it makes it hurt more), he should have known she would have accepted him. This was literally his wife, a literal princess who married him despite him not being royalty so it must have gone beyond looks.

Just goes to show how deeply the General’s insecurity runs; And there’s a certain lack of trust in his wife that of course leads to his other half’s mistreatment being kept a secret. And such secrets serve the foundation for a tumultuous marriage...

Plus, it also reflects his self-hatred as well; Even if the Woman accepts him as he is, the General wouldn’t. So even when he has it all, he still chooses to try and murder that part of himself he hates, and when it doesn’t work, he essentially buries it. The General doesn’t want to risk ruining what he’s got by letting the ‘beast’ of himself back in... He IS the Elktaur after all; The Elktaur’s insecurity led to a selfish callousness as seen when he experimented on the Rutabagataur.

And when he became the General, the Elktaur’s cruelty towards others was seemingly vindicated, it was as if his dream had come true and all it took was casting out that part of him; So it’s no wonder he’s so prejudiced towards his other half, because he’s the Elktaur who got away with despising and throwing away that ‘part’ of him. That confidence which later comes across as smarminess is the result of the Elktaur who thinks he’s perfect now, but he never really did confront his inner demon; So that bravado and charisma is all just a front for the scared and tiny little Elktaur he is on the inside, and deep down he knows it.

The General and the Elk weren’t good nor bad halves, not quite; They both started off as identical personalities and memories, just with different bodies. It’s a fascinating play on Nature VS Nurture; The same nature but given different circumstances and treatment. People can be the exact same but one gets it all and the others doesn’t because of some horrible draw of luck. I guess you could compare it to how a lot of people really aren’t any more capable than others but were born with better opportunity and so act like it, hence the General being such a dismissive jerk to the Elk once it’s no longer THEIR problem, just the Elk’s.

For all we know, the General might’ve fancied himself as the ‘good’ part of the Elktaur, the confidence and the cleverness, the Elktaur’s virtues separated from his flaws. But he wasn’t, if he and the Elk had switched bodies before waking up, everything would’ve turned out the exact same, with the ‘General’ becoming the Nowhere King, and the Elk marrying the Woman as a human. It’s just that their different circumstances caused them to branch out differently;

The Nowhere King is the Elktaur after continuing to be mistreated and hurt, lashing out. The General is the Elktaur who manipulated and hurt others to get what he wanted, got the girl, and in his apparent victory refused to share; He was now at the top and didn’t want to be reminded of the bottom he came from by accepting it. Thus he cast out that part of himself and mistreated and alienated it...

Maybe one could bring classism into this reading of the General; As the Elktaur, he’s very much the common trope of Cinderella or Aladdin, the nobody commoner who wants to be with royalty but is too lowly. And in his desire to be something else, he hates what he was and what he came from; The General is basically a class traitor in a sense, as a former peasant who looks down on his other half that remained not just the same, but was cast into an even lower standing as an animal. And we saw how the Elktaur treated the Rutabagataur in service of his own dreams, it’s sadly not shocking.

The General and Nowhere King are clones; The same Nature, just Nurtured differently. Like versions of one another across alternate timelines, it’s surreal and existential. The Elktaur was allowed to ignore and leave behind his suffering as a Centaur, and so when reminded of that past through the Elk, hated it; Meanwhile the Elktaur became the Nowhere King, spiraling into despair as life insisted on continuing to unfairly mistreat him, when someone who is the same got to have more.

You can see how circumstances caused the same person to turn into someone else, in one path and another; And these two paths eventually war and converge as one. The Elktaur’s halves became different, but only by circumstance; They started off the same. It really is painful to see the Elktaur become the General; A different type of pain to the Elktaur becoming the Nowhere King, but both potent.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Telekinesis

Summary: a reddie x daughter where she has powers? maybe that when IT died his powers went to her in the form of like maybe telekinesis or sum and she tells them when all the losers are together and they don’t believe her at first so she shows them? kinda lame but i thought it’d be cool

Another book, another disappointment, another opportunity wasted. Mike’s library was empty, both from it being after-hours as it being located in Derry, and the only light Rachel has is the obstructed street lights, eluding to an eerie feeling of impending doom and death, a real life horror movie.

The lights inside the building had to be turned off, because Rachel’s parents, Eddie and Richie, were not allowed to have any clue that she’s in here in the first place. Unlike last time she snuck into the place and got nabbed on by the woman taking over Mike’s job while he’s away on holidays, she was now determined to emerge herself in every book hidden in the smallest gap until she found a solution to her problem.

See, coming to Derry, roughly two years ago now, had unveiled a lot of things about her dads. Those nights as a child fearfully disclosing that a monster housed under her bed, a little child’s imagination, but her dads reacted so fierce without them assimilating why suddenly made a lot more sense. Their monster, a clown hellbent on destroying their lives and everything they had built, using incomprehensible powers and abilities to do so, defeated on its own turve, wasted away on the perspective that no one wasn’t afraid of it any longer, withered away with one last trick up its sleeve. A last gift to the youngest member of the losers club.

Her hands curl around the pages with upmost precision, attentive not to rip the age-old pages from the rug. The typing circulates, switching letters in front of her until the words all lose their meaning and Rachel rests her eyes for a brief second. She’s been at it for hours, exchanging book after book, futile. The pages provided no more research then the internet had, the only search result being that of movies with ‘mutant powers’, or stories about the mentally deranged.

Rachel yells out in frustration, and the current book she’s devouring soars across the room, the book disintegrating and several pages scattering around.

‘Ow come on. But when I actually try to make something happen you don’t do anything.’

Discovering you have supernatural abilities, more specifically telekinesis in her case, is not as cracked up as the movies portray it, Rachel’s disclosing herself. After leaving Derry she didn’t even notice something off about her, hyped up on adrenaline, the real shock only showed when she dropped a photo frame and extended her hand, stopping it midair without touching the picture in any way.

She’d conjured the experience to a trick of the light, and paranoia embedded after Pennywise, but then the same thing occurred again but a few days later, a painting skidding from its nail in the wall and cracking the floor. The experience was bizarre, as Rachel vibrated with indignation the moment it happened, worked up on an assignment for school and as she reached for a pillow to muffle her screams of vexation, the painting bustled and sank down.

Then she knew for sure that something was going on. The first trip to Mike’s library, the only place Rachel could think off holding any of the answers she was desperate to find, forlorn as it might be, ended up unavailing, caught to fast to locate any books in the subject matter in the first place, but it made Rachel just more committed. So what if she’s technically not allowed to be in here? She’s sure that if she asked uncle Mike for his keys he would hand them over without a sliver of hesitation.

‘There has to be a book about this stuff right? How in the world did uncle Mike found the artifact from the 1800 if there was no book telling him where to go?’

Rachel sits up from her position on the floor, alleviating the strain on her legs, too unbothered and eager for information to keep going back and forth from the table to the shelf's and stretches, her joints popping and sliding back in place. She idly traces the spines of the ancient old books, pondering to herself about the titles.

She’d have to come back here someday, when she’s no longer pursued by the strange things she’s capable of doing out of the blue, because some of these books really peek her interest. But no book on the subject she’s looking for.

‘Okay please universe. You fucked me over enough already can you give me a break?’ If the universe is listening, it’s doing nothing but mocking her.

‘Rachel Maggie Kaspbrak-Tozier. What do you think you’re doing young lady? We told you to stay at the Inn while we cleaned up pops house. Now all the losers are are the hunt for you.’ Her dad’s low pitched voice criticized, belonging to a ticked off Eddie Kaspbrak, accompanied by Richie, of course Rachel can never only get in trouble with one parent, and Mike, the keys dangling from his hand.

Richie mounts the words; ‘Oeh someone’s in trouble’, face half pinched in stress and the other in pure and uninhabited mirth.

Fingers flipping her pops off, their own love languages, Eddie scowl turns up a notch, and Rachel abandons ship, changing her course and demonstrating her most conniving angel face.

Eddie and Richie near her, hugging her so tight her ribs creak, their labored breath only now picked up on by their daughter.

‘Don’t you ever’, Eddie threatens, dislodging himself away from their bear pile to survey Rachel with full conviction. ‘Do that to us again. Not anywhere, but especially not in Derry.’

Richie dots a kiss on her forehead, his arm capturing Eddie back into a clasp, the memory of Pennywise nearly swallowing his daughter whole tattooed in his brain.

‘What are you even doing in here? Don’t tell me my genes created someone who likes to learn? School stuff?’ Richie spits the words school like they leave a bad taste in his mouth, ‘Eddie, love of my life, did you have an affair on me?’

‘Richie focus, that’s so not the point. And no you idiot. I’d never do that to you.’

‘I’m hunting for a book’, Rachel informs, withholding part of truth as there’s no way she’s adding her problems on the pile of stress stacked upon Richie and Eddie’s lives.

Her pops trial only recently ended and her dad found a new job doing something he actually likes to do, and their lives are starting to clear up for once. Rachel was not about to add another card to the card house and watch it spring apart.

‘On what?’ Eddie asks suspiciously, one eyebrow creased as he observes his daughter, on the lookout for her telltale sign that’s she’s lying.

‘Witchcraft? It’s for school.’ Rachel trails off, her voice sounding questioningly to her own ears. Richie scrutinizes her, much more on guard and attentive then he gives himself credit for, but Mike, sickly sweet but  a little tone deaf on the vibe in the room says; ‘Those books are upstairs in my special cabinet because they kept getting stolen, do you want me to go get them?’

Rachel’s flicks her eyes to the ceiling, grumbling under her breath with all the time that went to waste, then glancing back at Mike and kindly nodding her head. ‘That would be great, thank you uncle Mike.’

As he takes off to find the books, Richie and Eddie exchange puzzling peeks, doing their silent communication that drives Rachel crazy not being able to figure out what they’re saying.

‘Why would you need to write an assignment on witchcraft? Since when is  that in the curriculum these days? Hey Eds we would have rocked that, we knew all about it.’ Richie inquires, excitingly jolting Eddie to go along with his story.

‘Since I got a new teacher who’s very interested in that stuff.’

‘Are you sure everything is okay? You’ve been acting weird for the past few weeks and I didn’t want to say anything or push you but I’m worried.’ Eddie asks, troubled trying to balance things in his life. He wants to keep prodding his daughter to know what’s wrong with her and to help her, but he’d rather die then turn out like his mother, and sometimes Eddie fears his lines are blurred.

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed it too’, Richie agrees, serious as the topic calls for it. ‘Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell us.’

‘No I can’t, you won’t believe me.’

‘Sweetheart, we murdered a clown eating little kids and feeding off their fears, there’s nothing in the world that you can say that will prevent us from believe you.’

‘Okay fair,’ Rachel trails off apprehensive still, ‘but I don’t want to force additional stress on you guys, we’ve already had so much of that lately.’

‘Little me, if this is about the trial I’m really fucking sorry for putting you through that, but hoeza’, he jazzed hands towards himself, ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never go anywhere either.’

Bursting into tears, Rachel inches closer to her pops and eases herself under his chin, her dad crams up against her side. ‘It’s not, but I’m really grateful for that pops. Promise you’ll believe me and won’t ship me off anywhere?’

‘What? Never. Nothing you’ll confess will ever make us regret you being born.’ Eddie says with vindication. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ The truth is Rachel is getting really tired of the secret she’s storing away, and she’s scared too. Terrified that someday she might accidentally hurt someone, or scared that she’s going to wake up one day and not perceive who she is.

‘I have telekinesis and I think it’s because of IT,’ she breathes out, tensing in her parents grasp as she waits for their reaction. It’s a peculiar statement to preach, but Rachel didn’t think her pops would flat out laugh at her, a reserved giggle that stops abruptly when Eddie mimes his lips shut.

‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asks cautiously.

‘You don’t believe me do you?’

‘It’s not about believing you sweetheart, it’s just where is this is all coming from? Wait, is this a prank you and Richie did to trick me? If so Pennywise is off limits so knock it off.’

‘Eds no-‘

‘No it’s not a prank, I’m serious.’ Rachel underscores, schlepping away from the both of them.

‘Bug, I don’t-‘

‘No, I’ll prove it.’

‘Okay’, Richie agrees trepidation, same as Eddie.

Rachel tries really hard, focusing all her energy and mind on levitating the same book she send flying across the room mere minutes ago, her fist balling and her face blushing in effort, but nothing occurs. Previous times this was the case too, it only happens when she’s focusing on something else, not the task at hand.

Richie snorts, assured that it’s a prank and he’s played by his own daughter, which usually wouldn’t be so far off, but this time it boils rage up under Rachels skin.

‘Stop laughing, I’ve been struggling with this for so long and all you do is laugh at me?’ Rachel grounds out, genuinely hurt that neither of her fathers take the time to listen to her.

Three things follow each other in rapid speed. The first is that Mike descends down the stairs, carrying two books, dustier than the town of Derry itself, and waving them around proudly. ‘I found them, I hope two is enough?’

The second is that the door to the library jingles, and the remaining pack of the losers walks in, and the third is the table starts vibrating, anger pulsing in Rachel’s veins having her focused on something else.

Eddie and Richie stare at the table in shock, their mouths agape as they switch to look between the table and their daughter.

‘Rachel?’  

The table is ripped from the handles and jets over two shelf's of the library, landing right in front of the losers’ feet, all of them staring in bewilderment.

‘What the hell is going on in here?’

‘Mike, I think we’re going to need a lot more books.’

[divinedecay]

Kindness Kills, Part 3

Prompt: They were a ww, he was a vamp, can I make it any more obvious Pairing: Vamp!Kuroo Tetsurou x WW!Reader Word Count: 1,994 Warnings: Blood mention, bad writing lol Taglist: @writeiolite​ A/N: Damn, the final part... I hope its alright Part 1 // Part 2

Of course.

Of course it would come to this.

Of course it would come to you and Tetsurou circling each other, prepared to lunge, to wound, to kill.

Of course.

    You really, truly, should have known better. After what happened before, you should have known. Should have expected this. But instead, you had allowed yourself to do something stupid. Not only had you allowed yourself to have feelings for a Vampire - granted, this wasn’t exactly something you could control, but still - but you had also given in to those feelings. As you stalked around Kuroo, you couldn’t help but marvel at what a damned idiot you were.

    After leaving Teru’s apartment, you had known your time was short; you had to either find a very good hiding place, or find somewhere to wait. Somewhere of your choice.

If it was to be a fight, you were determined to have it on your terms.

    So you’d found a place, and waited. It hadn’t taken long for Kuroo to come to you.

    You had both heard and smelled him coming; he had made no effort to hide it. You hoped that wasn’t arrogance that drove him, because, if so, he was in for a nasty surprise. 

“Y/N,” his voice had sounded from behind you, and the tone he took sent your anger skyrocketing.

“Don’t,” you snarled the word, “don’t you dare say my name like you love me when I know you’re here to rip my guts out.” He hadn’t said anything after that, and you had simply stood and turned to face him, letting the anger and betrayal burn brightly in your eyes as you stared him down. “I should have known. I should have known better than to trust you. It was always going to come to this, and I was stupid enough to believe that maybe it wouldn’t. Stupid of me to expect the past not to repeat itself."

"Y/N, I don't-"

"Have a choice?" You cut him off, teeth practically bared. "Don't give me that bullshit. There's always a choice." You pause, scoff, roll your eyes. "Then again, it was choices that got me into this mess, wasn't it? I should have known better than to trust a vampire again after what your kind did."

"Y/N-"

"Shut up, Blood Drinker." You look at his eyes, at the barely masked pain there. You could let him speak. Give him time to explain. You could. But you're too busy remembering what happened before, what led you to this entire situation in the first place. You almost laughed at the parallels, at the sheer twist of fate that caused this. What happened before, before anything to do with Tetsurou, it made you so beyond angry at this entire situation. Angry at Tetsurou, for being a Vampire. Angry at your former pack leader, for being naive. Angry at yourself, for being a complete and utter dumbass.

    So he doesn't get to speak, to explain, you decide. He's here to kill you, why should he get to explain himself?

    You feel your teeth elongating, your nails growing as you began to slowly move to the side. Kuroo copies the movements, backing away and trying to keep you in front of him.

Not that it will matter, you grin, shoving your hurt deep, deep down. Now wasn't the time for hurt, now was the time for anger. No matter how this turned out, you won. If he died, you got your revenge, your vindication. You rid yourself of him forever and you can move on.

    If you died, you were taking as much with you as you could. You'd make sure he had scars from this encounter, make sure he remembered you for as long as his miserable life lasted.

“Y/N,” for fucks sake, the way he said your name drove you insane. Shaking off the pang in your heart at his voice, you lunge before he can say another word. Your claws graze his cheek as you practically tackle him to the ground, the claws on your other hand starting to sink into his shoulder. You see the shock in his eyes as his body reacts before his mind can catch up, and he practically launches you off of him, sending you basically flying halfway across the clearing.

    You land, hard, on your side, your breathing heavy, but you don’t launch back up. Especially when you hear him inching closer.

    As soon as he’s close enough to you, you swing your legs, knocking him over and launching yourself on top of him once more, but the glint in his eye tells you he was expecting this, and he uses his strength to turn the tables so that you’re pinned down, not him. A drop of blood falls on you from the bleeding scratches on his cheek.

“Just listen to me!” His voice is rough and desperate, and it takes everything in you to ignore it.

“Why should I?!” The anger is written plain on your face. The hurt. The betrayal. And you know it. Kuroo’s face is different, all frustration and determination, and then suddenly his lips are at your neck and his fangs are sinking into your skin.

“Are you fucking insane?!” You didn’t know how Vampires reacted to Werewolf blood, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. In that moment, you were too shocked and baffled to remember that you’re supposed to be angry, but your emotions quickly boil back over, anger flushing your face once more.

“Just listen for one fucking minute!”

“No, you listen! You have absolutely no right to ask me to listen! None!”

“Why the hell not?!” There’s a look in his eye, a wild desperation.

“Because this has happened before,” you’re yelling now, screaming with anger, with every bit of emotion you have. His face changes, just for a moment.

“Wh-what?” The confusion in his voice is so genuine, the shock so real. You scoff.

“What? Your treacherous, backhanded, slimy despot of a clan didn’t bother to tell you how they wiped out an innocent pack, minding their own business?” You like to think that if Kuroo had the ability to pale even more, he would have. “Well,” you sneer, “let me educate you.

    Once, there was a small clan, who lived just outside the city. They kept to themselves and bothered no one, the whole shebang. They were kind to everyone. And, one day, their pack leader fell in love.

    She was a sweet Wolf, cared about her pack and others around her, but love… love destroyed her. You see, she fell in love with a Vampire. But what none of us knew was that this Vampire wasn’t actually in love. This Vampire was sent to us. To destroy us. Just for being what we are. Because our pack leader dared to fall in love with a ‘higher’ being.” The words that you spit out are filled with disgust, but old wounds that still stung. Kuroo watched your face, watched as years of anger and sadness came raging out. “One day, I was out, away from the pack, running errands, and I came back to-” your voice catches, halting and tripping over itself, “to carnage. Everyone. Everyone was dead, and the whole place stunk of Vampire, of Vampire work.” You shake your head, fighting back the prick of tears in the corners of your eyes. “I made the mistake of thinking you could be different.” Your voice is quieter now, your eyes averted, but still angry. “So, yeah. Fuck you and your clan.”

“Listen,” he takes a breath, fighting to keep the disgust out of his voice so that you can’t misinterpret his tone, “for just- for just a minute, and then, if you still want to rip me apart, you can. I’ll stand here and let you.” Your eyes snap to his, and you blink a couple of times in surprise. “I had no idea about your pack, Y/N, and I had nothing to do with the horrific actions my clan took.

    I am not my clan, and if you’ll give me  your ear - not literally-” a flash of a shit-eating grin, then it’s gone again - “I’ll explain everything.” He paused, searching your face for a sign to continue. You blinked at him again, and he could see the war behind your eyes, but you made no moves against him, nor did you speak. He took that as permission to continue. “My clan gave me the ultimatum, yes. Kill you or die. And, yes, I told them I would kill you.” Anger flashes in your eyes, but he continues, unfazed. “What my clan fails to realize is that not everyone is as bigotted and backwards as them.

    I have no intentions of killing you, Y/N. None at all. In fact, I… I really intend to leave the clan. And I hope you’ll come with me.” His voice is almost scared, and you have to replay his words over and over in your head to make sure that you understood him.

“Why?” It’s the only thing you can utter for a moment, then questions start flooding out. “Why? Why on this God-forsaken planet would you choose me, a Werewolf, over your clan? I’m not even immortal, this is the worst possible decision-” And then his lips are on yours, hesitant and soft. He’s never kissed you like this, like he’s scared and desperate, but he is now, and it makes your brain short-circuit a little.

“Because,” he mutters, his face mere inches from yours, “I love you, Y/N. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and I’d rather be with you for however long you’ll have me than sell me soul out to beings who probably don’t even know what love it. I’d rather go through everything that comes with being with you than live one more undead day without you.” The words are pouring from his lips, flooding your ears like a tsunami. The weight of them threatens to crush you, but something in your heart leaps with hope. You struggle for words, stumbling over syllables until the only thing that manages to leave your mouth tumbles right on out.

“Say sike right now.” He blinks, then starts laughing, and it's the best thing you’ve heard all day. And the most terrifying.

“No, babe, there is no “sike.” I love you,” that grin, that damned grin, spread across his face, and you knew that, as much as you wanted to be angry with him, it wasn’t his fault. It was his clan’s. And he wasn’t his clan. “So, what do you say? Be a cliche and run away with me?”

    There were so many things that could go wrong, so many things that could backfire. There were so many risks, so many problems. And yet… you couldn’t help but think that it would be worth it. You loved him, you really, truly, did, and, if he was to be believed, he loved you, too. You were happier than you’d been since before your entire pack was murdered, and you knew it.

    You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to teach yourself how to give in to the feeling once more. It was easy, truth be told. Kuroo was, well, Kuroo, and that was enough for you.

    You open your eyes to the same easy grin, but there’s worry in his eyes. You bring your hand up to his cheek, wipe away the blood, let the anger leave your body. 

“I love you too, Tetsu.” If it was possible, his grin gets wider, and his eyes get brighter. An expression of pure joy washes over him. There would always be complications, sure. There would be troubles and risks and things that go wrong, but you could deal with all of it, every single bit, so long as Kuroo was by your side. 

Perhaps his kindness wouldn't kill you after all.

[lizacstuff]

Liza - I really enjoyed the meta on your favorite echo scene and hope you do more. I’ll eagerly devour any that you’d care to share. If you need a prompt maybe favorite angsty scene?

It’s so hard for me to choose, because I love the final Echo scenes in ep 3, 4 and 5.  I’ve watched all of them many times; they brim with angst.  If I have to choose one, I’ll go with the confrontation at the drive-in in ep 3. A few things I loved about the scene:

The Awkward -  The initiation of this scene is so deliciously awkward. Max is in the car with Cam, trying (futilely) to move on from Liz, and then suddenly there’s his dream girl, pounding on the car. Honestly, I enjoyed the way Cam (understandably) tries to object and is just roundly dismissed. Liz just gives her a look like, “This is so much bigger than you, back off,” and it works. Admittedly, I also enjoy that Max and Cam both know that Max is going to get out of the car and follow her. Sorry Cam, you drew the short end of the stick here. (As an aside, this was the last time I felt sorry for Cam on the romantic front because this was the exact moment she should have cut her losses with Max. The writings on the wall, girl.) Once he does follow Liz, he’s so deliciously frustrated when he asks, “What is this about?“ I get the feeling that maybe he thinks it’s a jealousy thing. Think again, buddy. (It is a bit, but not about Cam)  So when watching I felt a surge of vindication on Liz’s behalf when she shoves that letter in his face. Yasss, she is completely justified interrupting his date.  

Trust & Faith - Even though Liz knows the murderer is an alien (limiting the suspects significantly) and then finds evidence that indicates that Max not only saw Rosa the night she died, but was having an affair with her, Liz still goes directly to him and confronts him BY HERSELF.  We know Kyle was trying to call her and presumably she ignored it. It never occurs to her that she might need backup or even that it might be a good idea to let Kyle know what she’s doing. She goes alone and allows herself to be in a vulnerable situation with someone she’s going to accuse of murder. Wow. And once she confronts him, she lets it rip. She comes at him verbal guns blazing, methodically leveling every charge she has at him. She hides nothing, she doesn’t back down for a second. However, at no point watching the scene do I sense any fear of him. At all. She’s angry at him, she’s suspicious of him, but she’s not scared. In her mind she may be confronting a murderer, but she just knows that she’s in no danger from him. She has faith he won’t hurt her, even if she fears he hurt her sister. It’s pretty extraordinary. 

Max’s Mortification - Nathan does such an outstanding job when Liz starts reading Max’s ye olde love letter out-loud.  With his body language and tone you can just feel that Max wants to physically climb into a hole and hide. 

(perfect gif by @thatonekimgirl reblog the whole set here)

(much more under the cut)

He would prefer almost anything in that moment than having his 17-year-old words being flung back at him by their muse. He begs her to put an end to his humiliation, “Please just stop, come on.”  I was holding my breath waiting for him to blurt out that the letter was for her. On rewatch I love his squirming, I want to bathe in a pool of his angsty teen discomfort, but the first time I watched it was excruciating. Well done.  

Liz’s Motivation - When Max finally confesses that the note was meant for her, her reaction is swift and angry. Of course the thought had occurred to her. She’s obviously read the letter carefully with that in mind because she was able to offer an immediate rebuttal to the idea: “This isn’t about us. You and I never kissed.” I think her drive to confront him immediately that night is being driven by jealousy. When Max shows her his memories in the pilot, he convinces her that she’s special to him. Liz believes it and I don’t think suspicion being shifted to him as she starts to investigate, changes that. We know it doesn’t because she attempts to manipulate him with it: “We can get to know each other.” In narration, Liz essentially tells us she has to put aside the feelings and investigate objectively. However, here she is, full of feelings, banging on cars, furiously confronting a would-be murderer with no clear plan, and I don’t think she would be that reckless or enraged unless she was truly hurt. The letter being for Rosa means not only is he probably a murderer, but it also means what she felt from him when they connected is also probably a lie, and that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.  

Jeanine is amazing as realization dawns on Liz and she remembers that day in April of senior year, remembers the blackout. She’s stunned, flattered, disconcerted; you can feel her anger melt away, and something much softer take its place. However, Liz must feel that too, feel her guard go down, because it only lasts a beat before she regroups and gets back on task. However, now that the jealousy has evaporated, she’s much more methodical. She’s able to catalog the evidence against him clearly and concisely. Well… she’s able to do that until Max brings out the big gun.

The Declaration - The best part of this scene is, of course, Max verbalizing his feelings for Liz. While watching I was mentally yelling, “Tell her you couldn’t have done it because you love her!!!”  AND then he did exactly that. “I have loved you my entire life, including every single day you were gone in the last decade.” Damn, son.

At the time, neither Liz nor the audience knows what happened to Rosa, and it’s obvious that Max knows more than he’s saying. However, Liz, and the viewer, are left with no doubts that when Max says he loves her, he means it. It’s not a cover, it’s not an excuse or distraction. It’s deep and real to him. It’s astonishing, really, because this scene starts with him on a date with another woman, and we know he’s hiding something, but we still give ourselves over and believe in his feelings for her. Part of that is the writing, part is the lightening-rod chemistry between the actors, and part of it is the intensity and raw emotion Nathan brings to the declaration and the sense of heart-stopping awe Jeanie brings to Liz’s reaction. Liz believes so we believe.

  In Hindsight -  Within a few episodes we find out exactly what Max is hiding, which makes rewatching this scene so fascinating. When Liz asks if he murdered Rosa, Max is genuinely shocked and wounded that she could even think he is capable of something like that. 

(Fab gif by @wonderrbat  go here to reblog the full set)

Look at that face! He’s sincerely crushed by the accusation, which is a bit disingenuous since he thinks, you know, that his sister did it.  Still, I believe his emotional reaction.

On a similar note, this line stuck out to me at the time, but I had no idea how telling it would become: “After all we have been through, do you truly believe I’m capable of killing someone you love.”  It’s the “you love” part that got me.  Then it was notable because most people would stop before that: “Do you truly believe I am capable of killing someone?” Full stop. However, we find out later that Max is entirely capable of killing someone, has few qualms and is pretty damn stone cold about it. So it’s the “you love” part that’s significant. It’s sweet that he’s capable of murder, but he draws the line at murdering people she loves. (that’s a joke, but also kinda not)

When viewed holistically, what astonishes me about this scene is that our flawed alien boy manages to protect the secret, while still being about as emotionally open and honest as one human being can be with another. It’s rare, stunning and shockingly romantic.

[neosummer]

Vindicated

A/n: Hey y'all this is the first angst post for this blog, it's a short scenario with our manadarin boii. Hope ya enjoy!

Pairing: LucasxReader

Angst like there's no tomorrow. Eventual fluff

"Okay, I know it may be too much to ask at this moment. But will you please get your shits together?!" Yukhei haven't raised his voice on you ever. Not when you are being too reckless with your driving, not when you are excessively punching him whenever you get excited with a Marvel related stuff. Not when you lost his keys to his apartment. He thought he will never, you thought so as well. However, here you are left speechless after hearing his booming voice. A subtle pain pinching your chest because you can't believe Yukhei just used those words and tone on you. Especially now that you are having one of your worst breakdown. His eyes were intense and his demeanor-commanding as oppose to his usual easy going and goofy mood. Yukhei is just staring down at you who's now sitting on your crumpled bed, shocked still. You wiped away your tears although your still hiccuping you did what he told you to do. You are now calm and so is he. "I didn't mean to scare you" He sat beside you, hands clasped and eyes closed. You know that he's about to say something serious and honest with those movements. He opened his eyes and you saw it glistening but he rubbed it in a way that wouldn't  look like he's wiping the tears forming "We've known each other for so long and deeply. I don't think going soft and easy on you will help this case y/n. You've been self pitying a lot and I can't do the same for you" you fight back the tears, but it felt like you are fighting the inevitable. "I just don't know what happened dude, I lost myself and I can't seem to find the old me" Yukhei stretched the sleeves of his grey pullovers and used it to wipe the stubborn tears rolling down you cheeks. "You will find her, I'm sure. You don't have to rush it. But please, cut yourself some slack. You see, you have developed eating disorder because of that punishment concept you created for yourself" you dragged yourself to this mess believing that this is the best way to motivate and push you to your limits. You're a scholar, dean's lister, and probably the most competitive student in the University. So when you started getting lower grades and fail some exams you thought one of your worst nightmare had already come and you brought it all upon yourself. You nodded to his words, your hiccups is still there so Yukhei stood and poured water on your Thor tumbler. "Here you go" His voice is softer, yet still firm. "Thanks" you gulped from the tumbler and somehow your calmer now that Yukhei is rubbing your back. "Honestly, y/n you shouldn't have let that boy get the best of you" See, all your problems escalated when you started dating that guy from another uni. He was your 'indie boy' dream. You both shared the same movie enthusiasm and music preference. You like to watch French films and hipster movies with him and you two shared playlist with songs consisting of anti-mainstream music. He was sweet and made you feel the heroine in your own movie. He'd make you poems and send flowers to your doorstep with notes. The guy even made you a montage video of yourself with your favorite song as the bgm. You are so in love, he was your first boyfriend. But the thing is, the guy seems to have some unhealthy emotional baggage. And you, being the emphatic girl you have always been thought that somehow you can fix him. Not knowing that you will be the one left more devastated. You lagged on your homework and missed some meetings with your group mates just so you can spend more time with the guy. You knew, being with him will make him happier and drop his emotional baggage. But the more you spend time with him the more things get worse. The guy resorted into using illegal substances to cope up with his mental health issues and unknowingly your own mental health deteriorated in return. He had treated you differently then, he became mean and hard to deal with. He caused you too much pain but you persisted because of 'love'. You tried harder to 'fix' him but your relationship took a toll on it  together with your studies. Yukhei was the only one who kept reminding you to cut down your unhealthy relationship with the guy. He kept reminding you but you never listened, until the guy broke up with you because he said that he wanted to find himself. Yukhei thought it was bullshit, having a mental health issue doesn't give you the right to destroy someone else. It's been months since your break up but your still on the dark well, unable to lift yourself up. You hated yourself for giving too much love and affection and developed that self punishment concept. Your studies haven't bounce back as well and now, you won't be able to graduate on time.

This heartbreaking news came to you 6 hours ago and you've been crying non-stop on your apartment and thought of ending yourself had Yukhei not forced himself inside your apartment you will be on the newspaper headline by tomorrow. "I don't know if I can ever face my parents again Yukhei" he let out a heavy sigh and said "Of course you have to acknowledge your shortcomings. But I believe they will understand. Besides, graduating on time may be just a social construct right?" He had already switched to his usual self. You smiled although afflicted. "Exactly, they are so forgiving. I'm ashamed of myself Yukhei" he shook his head "I'm not sure if I can bounce back" he cupped your face "y/n remember that time when you saved from falling over a cliff when we were 9 and you asked me if I believe and trust in you? Didn’t I said yes? That I believe in you and your fighting spirit. I meant it. Every damn word, I mean it. I will always" his voice cracked a bit and you felt a  sense of pride in you. A feeling that you haven't felt in a really long time. "I know, you are disappointed and broken but I'll always be here to help you pick yourself up" his thumb brushing your tears and his forehead close to yours made you feel safe and redeemed. "You're right, I should get my shits together" you both let out a short laugh while your foreheads are connected and now you two are crying. "Thank you for being real and not sugarcoating things with me" he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Things will never be the same. It doesn't get easier, but we must believe that it'll get better someday" you silently cry-smile because of the Yukhei's message to you. He had always been the realest person to you. Not sugarcoating and treating you as a fragile kid but at the same time making you feel safe and home. "You survived 7 semesters, another 1 1/2 surely, you will ace as well. And please remember that you don't have to prove yourself over and over again. Don't push yourself too much y/n" you're still tightly wrapped around him and all your frustrations seems to be washed out by his existence alone. But like what he said, it doesn't get easier so you promised yourself that you will survive this and learn the greatest lesson in your life. Yukhei released you but held your hands. "Besides, engineering is 5 years. That meant, we'll graduate together. You'll never be alone" he gave you a reassuring smile that made your heart melt in the most beautiful way. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind you ears. "We can do this okay?" He nudged your face with his nose and you felt like your heart would explode any minute. You were so overwhelmed by how much your bestfriend did to help you out from your worst state. "Together" you said. Yukhei pulled you once again in a tight and warm embrace "Together, no matter what" and left a soft peck in your forehead. After all this time, Yukhei was the one who believed in you the most and you are more that thankful to have him as your bestfriend. "I love you dude" he whispered and stroked your hair. He always says so but this time it felt different. You knew what he meant "You really are a true blooded engineer. You fancy building stuff. I'm a work in progress. Is that fine?" Your voice is shaky. You always knew that there is an unspoken tension between you two but you're afraid that it'll make things different for your friendship. But from all your experiences, and knowing that Yukhei was the one who still believes in you and cares so much about your well being after you messed up big-time made it easier for you to admit feelings that you hid deeply behind. "I don't mind at all, like you said I like building stuff and I would very much love to build a lot of new things with you, and a good building takes time to rise" Yukhei cannot hide his tears well and it is your turn to wipe it off

"Let's build us then" you whispered to him and this time there is no need to fix someone.

[dead-end-street]

Spideychelle “please talk to me”

“MJ! MJ, wait!” Peter called out as he ran down the street after her. She didn’t stop or turn around, which was slightly distressing. He easily caught up to her and gently grabbed her by the arm to slow her down. When she turned to him, the look on her face made him involuntarily gulp. It would be comical if it wasn’t such an alarming feeling seeing her fix him with a stare that could only mean bad things.

“MJ, what’s wrong?” She cocked her head to the side slightly but said nothing. It was the silence that scared him the most. He could generally handle her death glares, he’d mostly gotten used to them over the years, but the silence combined with her stare was making his palms sweaty.

“Look, if you’re mad about me missing AcaDec, I get it, and I’m sorry. Something came up the last minute, and I was gonna text you to let you know, but my phone died and -”

She held a hand up to cut him off. He instantly shut his mouth and stared back at her, wide-eyed. She turned to leave again but something made him pull her back. “MJ, please, talk to me.”

“Now you wanna talk?” she asked with her back to him.

“Uh… yeah…?”

She looked over her shoulder and in the cold November fog he could see her anger had faded slightly. It had been replaced with something much worse. Disappointment.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for months, Peter.” She sounded exhausted. “I’ve been trying to get you to be honest with me, to just go one day without lying to my face, and you can’t even do that.”

“Wait, what?” He wasn’t expecting this.

MJ sighed and gave him a sad smile that somehow broke his heart and terrified him. “I know you’ve been friends with Ned forever and you guys have your secrets and your bro code or whatever. But I thought we were actually becoming close and that you’d stop lying to me and making up lame excuses for your constant flakiness.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve missed a few practice sessions with the team, and I know you think I’m a flake, but we are friends! You’re one of my best friends. After Ned, you’re probably the closest friend I have.”

“Then why won’t you be honest with me?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the panic was rising in his chest but he tried his best to keep his voice even.

“The random ‘appointments’ that just happen to pop up at the weirdest times. The bruises and cuts all over you every few weeks. The way you can’t look me in the eye when you tell me why you had to miss yet another AcaDec meeting…” she trailed off.

He had no idea how to respond to her. He hated lying to the people in his life, but especially her. He opened his mouth, hoping something coherent would come out but all he could say was, “MJ...”

“I’ll make it easy for you, Peter,” she paused and reached out to lay her hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast he thought for sure she’d make a snide comment, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply said, “I know.”

For a split second he was in a haze and he blinked at her in confusion. It was like the way your nose tickles right before you have to sneeze and you close your eyes in anticipation. For a kid with lightning reflexes, he was too slow to catch her wrist when she quickly reached under his plaid button up shirt, and pulled down the collar of his grey t-shirt to reveal the red and black suit beneath.

In the moments after, a multitude of things went through his head; the fact that she knew his secret, the way her eyes went wide when she saw his suit and finally had the confirmation, the way he almost felt relief knowing that she knew, but also dread because now she would be one more person who could be in danger.

She took a step back but he reflexively caught her hand and held her in place. Her pupils were dilated, he assumed from the adrenaline and she no longer looked frustrated or sad. Instead there was a glint in her eyes, that looked a lot like vindication. “Maybe now you’ll stop lying to me and start letting me in.”

She tugged her hand away from him and continued to walk away again. Peter watched her, still frozen in shock, until she had disappeared around the corner. He had no idea what to do now.

[campcampistrash]

How Long It Takes To Make A Family

*walks in 15 minutes late with starbucks* whats up im here with a 10k fic and it’s full of crap who’s ready

Summary:  Five times Max told David to go away, and one time he asked him to stay. Alternatively: Max and David’s relationship throughout the years.

AO3 link

for the dadvid big bang event hosted by @dadvidappreciationweek

1.

Max’s parents first sent him to Camp Campbell when he was six, and the only reason they waited that long was because that was the youngest age the camp accepted.

During the school year, Max was cheerfully labelled as the “latchkey kid,” the only kid in his grade who carried around a house key clipped to his backpack because neither of his parents were home when he was and he had to unlock the door himself. Usually he was only alone for an hour or two; not long enough for any outsider to get the idea of neglect in their head.

Some days, his parents didn’t come home on time. Whenever that happened Max was forced to skip dinner and go to bed himself, and in the morning he’d get lectured on how he left all the lights in the house on and that he left the TV remote in the couch cushions and really, he’s already four five six years old, shouldn’t he have learned all this by now?

His parents didn’t work the weekends, but as distant as they were they might as well have.

Before most of his time was taken up by school Max was enrolled in daycare. He got dropped off at 6:30 AM and picked up at 8 PM; the first kid in and the last kid out. His parents hated the price. They’d jokingly talk about how they couldn’t wait for the day when he was old enough to take care of himself, about how annoying it was to wake up half-an-hour early just to drop him off, like he wasn’t even there. They never seemed to know that he was there, not unless he was getting blamed for something.

Six was the age where he was old enough to (supposedly) take care of himself for a couple hours at a time, but young enough to still be a worry for any longer than that. Summer vacation was awaited with dread at his household, where where his parents would have to pay for constant childcare.

Luckily, Camp Campbell was cheap, and Max would be out of the house entirely for two and a half months. It was, as far as they were concerned, the perfect option, and on the sheet where they were filling out his information they wrote “making friends” as the camp they wanted him in. They thought that he was shy, anti-social, and had difficulty connecting with people, because that’s how he always appeared to them.

Max had friends. It wasn’t hard for him to go up and start talking to people he didn’t know. His parents just had no idea who he was.

So the boy who first arrived at Camp Campbell was loud, social, and had the vague idea that he was never going to be the most important thing in his parents’ life, though he couldn’t voice that thought if asked.

He was also, objectively, an annoying little shit.

On the first day of camp, he arrived on the bus with all the other children. He was the youngest one there, unsurprisingly. What was supposed to happen after that was head to the dining hall for orientation, led by the two counselors.

Max didn’t even make it that far.

He looked around at the rundown buildings set in the middle of the woods, far from any real civilization and anyone he knew, and thought to himself, I don’t want to be here.

Without any hesitation, he broke away from the group and walked toward the lake he could see in the distance. He hadn’t ever seen one before; it’d be nice to mess around on the shore with no one bothering him.

Max took five steps before a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him in the air.

“Whoa there, partner! We’re not visiting the lake yet!” someone yelled at him. “We need to get through the or-i-en-tation first!”

They said the word orientation like Max wouldn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know what it meant, but he was offended nonetheless. So he shoved an elbow back as hard as he could and hit their face.

The person screamed and dropped Max. He landed on his hands and knees, scrambled up and tried to run, but his shirt collar was grabbed again, and he wasn’t stupid enough to try and choke himself to get away.

“Let me go!” he yelled, flailing his arms.

“No can do, kiddo, we gotta get to the dining hall pronto, and here at Camp Campbell we believe in the words no camper left behind.”

Max clenched his fists to his side and raised his head to see whatever overgrown chirpy squirrel caught him. It was a man with startlingly red hair and a smile about as bright and real as an LED light. Max immediately started to hate him.

“I don’t wanna go there,” he said. The man looked as remorseful as someone could while toting around a discount grin.

“Hey now,” he told Max apologetically, “later we’ll all get to go to the lake together! Think about how much funner it’s going to be with all your friends!”

Max crossed his arms and angrily mumbled, “They’re not my friends.”

“Well, they will be soon!”

And with that, Max was dragged to the dining hall to meet his doom.

—

His doom came in the name of David. He decided that he hated David more than anyone at the camp.

There was also another counselor named Gwen, but Max didn’t mind her so much. She seemed as irritated with David’s happy-go-lucky attitude as he was. She was cool.

The thing about David, though, was that he was fake; his cheerful, unrelenting demeanor, his excitement for literally every activity—it just couldn’t be real. Max refused to believe it. He was six, and while he knew that was plenty old enough, everyone always assumed that was “too young” for most anything, and yet despite him being “too young” he still knew that David’s attitude was—to put in words he would soon know—complete and utter bullshit.

So on that first day, as David was excitedly yelling at them all about how much fun they’re going to have and how they’re all such great friends already, Max swore to himself that he was going to make David crumble.

All he had to do was make as much a nuisance of himself as possible until David’s facade cracked, and everyone could see how fake he was. It was the perfect, foolproof plan, and Max was sure that it would work in the way it hadn’t with his parents.

(At home, he’d taken to acting out—throwing food, neglecting schoolwork, yelling at anyone and everything—and his parents only noticed long enough to send him to his room.

It would, he hoped, work better at camp.)

When the time came for Max to introduce himself in front of everyone, he simply crossed his arms and said, “No.”

The other kids in the room weren’t paying attention, having already introduced themselves, but Max didn’t care about them. He was staring directly at David to show that he meant war.

David took it in exactly the wrong way.

“Aw, are you too shy?” he cooed, clasping his hands together. “That’s perfectly fine! How about you come over here so you can whisper your name in my ear, and I can introduce you to everyone instead!”

Max gritted his teeth, stomped his foot, and yelled, “No!”

David frowned in thought. It only took a moment for him to decide what the “real” problem was, because he soon brightened up again and said, “Oh, don’t worry, I know I look really tall but I’m not actually scary at all! I promise I don’t bite! But if you want to go to Gwen instead...”

Gwen slapped her face and groaned.

“Jesus, David,” she said, “he’s not scared, he’s just trying to be difficult.”

The camp man scrunched his eyebrows together, confused and not knowing how to handle the situation. Max felt vindicated. Clearly his plan was going to work easier than he thought.

“I... guess I can just get the attendance sheet?” David proposed. “He’s the last one to introduce! It shouldn’t be hard to find him on there.”

Max’s good mood dropped. He stared in betrayed shock as David procured a clipboard, skimming through the two pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Alright, everyone,” David said, “our last camper to be introduced today is...” He paused, waiting for something. “Iiiiiiiiiissssss...”

Gwen rolled her eyes and started doing a drumroll on her thigh.

“MAX! Say hi to Max, kids!”

The other kids, none of whom Max paid any attention to when they introduced themselves, didn’t react. They stared ahead in a bored daze, waiting for something interesting to happen. Max could relate.

He didn’t really have anything against these other people, he decided. Just David.

When they were being lead around the camp, Max pushed down the tents. David’s eye twitched, but he only said, “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

When they were doing their first camp activity, Max took the string they were using for friendship bracelets and cocooned someone in a coffin of thread. David got out a pair of scissors and complimented him on his quick learning.

When they were learning to pitch tents—none of the kids were happy with Max at that point, since it was his fault they had to learn in the first place—he managed to destroy three of them before David got the hint that the small child should probably not be trusted. David dug through the attic and procured two extra tents, one of them large enough to house four students instead of two. He made Max help him set them up, and stopped Max when he tried to sabotage them again, saying, “Oh, no, it goes like this, Max.”

And he did all that with a large, radiant smile. There was rarely a hint of frustration or impatience with Max. He didn’t even seem to know that Max was purposefully trying to mess everything up.

That revelation—that maybe David just needed to figure out that Max was being terrible on purpose—came to him on the third day, as Max was leaning over the side of a canoe, trying to get in the water. David had a strong grip on his shirt collar (his yellow shirt, the camp shirt he was forced to wear) so it wasn’t going well.

“Max,” David said patiently, “it’s canoe time, not swim time! Swim time isn’t until week two!”

Max glared at him. He was forced to be paired with one of the adults because he was the youngest- the other kids were lucky enough to get away with little to no supervision. And Gwen, luckiest of them all, got to chill on the beach with a pair of sunglasses and a trashy book.

David thought that Max was just a confused six-year-old. That was a problem.

Max leaned back into his seat, and David let go with a relieved sigh, thinking he got his point across. Instead, Max grabbed the sides of the canoe, and staring blankly at David, started rocking it, back and forth.

David gulped nervously and said, “Now, Max, I know this may seem fun, but it’s actually very dangerous because you might tip the boat over. So that means you should stop.”

Max doubled his efforts. He was willing to sacrifice himself if he could take David down with him.

“Ha, wow, okay, that’s exactly what you shouldn’t do, how about we just-”

And David grabbed him. Again. His plan was foiled.

He was set right in front of the man like one would set down a heavy bag of groceries- a little roughly and with much relief. Then came the lecture.

Max didn’t listen to any of it. He only fumed at lost opportunities. But when David made a particularly large gesture with his hands, setting him slightly off balance in his seat, Max realized he could do something else.

So with all his strength, he shoved David off of the canoe.

David toppled off with a yelp and landed in the water with a large splash, getting Max wet. He surfaced quickly and sputtered “MAX!” very indignantly.

Max, naturally, pointed a finger at him and started laughing. Loudly.

The canoeing lesson was cut short for the day. When David surfaced from the lake, he looked like a sad cat that got too curious about a bathtub and was inevitably disappointed. Gwen pulled him away from the group; Max was too far to hear what they said, but he was so satisfied with his results he didn’t care, even though it looked like a very heated conversation.

When they came to some sort of agreement—an agreement only on Gwen’s part, if the unsatisfied look on David’s face was any indication—she pushed him away and called for everyone to follow her back to the dining hall. Max moved to go with them, but was stopped by an arm across his chest.

He looked up, and there was David, in all his downtrodden waterlogged glory. He rolled his eyes. There was, inevitably, going to be some lecture on how to be the best camper, or canoe safety, or how he should talk about his homesickness instead of acting on it, or whatever.

“Max,” David said softly. He mentally prepared himself for the barrage of useless information he was going to get.

“It has come to my attention that. You, uh. Have been acting... a little out of hand.”

Yeah, Max thought bitterly, and he had to have Gwen point it out to him, since David was so determined to act all cheerful and pretend nothing bad was going on.

“So Gwen and I, together, in a conversation where we mutually agreed-” what was David even saying, seriously, “-decided that you are going to be heavily restricted in the activities you are allowed to participate in, and for the activities you are allowed to be involved in you will need either me or Gwen to partner up with you.”

Max stared at him blankly. He didn’t understand most of what David said, partially because he didn’t really know what “mutually agreed” or “restricted” meant, partially because David’s voice lost most emotion, as if he was just repeating what he was told to, like a robot.

“And,” David finished, “you won’t be allowed anywhere near the forest or the lake from now on. You’ll have to stay with the Quartermaster those days.”

Now that Max understood.

Tears pricked in his eyes and his face scrunched up, and he remembered the first day he was here, when he just wanted to go home and be alone, where he didn’t have to learn anything new with adults he had no idea what to do with, when he looked in the distance and saw the lake and wanted to sit by it and look at the water because he’d never done that before.

David put a hand on his shoulder- to comfort him, to lead him away, he didn’t know, but he shook it off and bolted down the beach, his face was wet and he was sad devastated angry that David would take this away from him. Max knew he deserved his punishment; he all but asked for it, really. But he assumed it would get him some half-hearted reprimand and a push to do more activities to avoid bothering the adults. Get sent to stay in his tent for a day, at worst.

Max stopped running when his legs got too wobbly, and he fell ungracefully on his butt. He panted and he felt kind of dizzy but at least he was sitting next to the lake looking at the sunset. Alone.

Just like he wanted.

They probably wouldn’t let him go back there again.

The sand shifted behind him. Max sniffled and roughly rubbed his sleeve against his face.

“Go away,” he said.

David ignored him and crouched. He put a hand on his shoulder. David always did that; Max wondered what he thought a stupid little shoulder pat was going to do. Comfort him? Get him to like him? Stupid.

“We need to go back with the others,” David said.

“Go away,” Max told him.

“I can’t leave you here alone, Max,” David said.

Max brought his knees to his chest and shoved his face in them. The hand started rubbing his back. It was like David was trying to bribe him with affection, or something. Stupid.

“Go away,” Max whispered, and he didn’t even know if David heard that time.

They stayed until the sun went down.

2.

Another summer, and Max is, for the third time in a row, sent to Camp Campbell to get out of his parents’ faces. He was becoming a sort of unwilling expert on the place.

He looked out the window of the bus with the affectation of a forty year old man getting sent to prison for the rest of his life and regretting the people he’s left behind and the actions he took to get there. What could he have done different, he wondered. He didn’t know.

The bus stopped, and the Quartermaster grunted something as he opened the door. Max was the first one off because he learned that sitting at the back of the bus only gets you the worst tent.

(Return campers were allowed to skip the orientation and go straight to settling in- so far, that was only Max and two other kids, and the two other kids tended to stick together and get the best tent for themselves. Max was determined to beat them that year.)

Among other things he learned was this:

-The food is not to be trusted, as with anything else the Quartermaster was involved in. -David and Gwen take turns checking in on the campers after the scheduled bedtime, and Gwen tends to try and finish it as fast as possible, which means that she’ll look at a pile of pillows under a blanket and think it’s a kid. Those were the best nights to sneak out. -The two other kids that returned to camp every year were named Meredith and Rajeev and they were pretty cool. Usually. Depending on the day. -Despite all common sense, David really was that fucking happy. All the time. Sometimes, his temper would get the best of him and he’d lash out, but overall he just smiled. And smiled.

It took two years for Max to realise that, no, it wasn’t some stupid, overblown act. No matter how hard he tried, there was no forcing David to shed his cheerful mask and show the world what kind of person he really was, because it wasn’t a mask. Sometimes he’d lose his temper, but he always bounced back quickly since apparently a positive attitude means so much to him.

So, because of that, Max had no idea what he was going to do that year.

The past years were dedicated to trying to get David to admit that he was a hack and he actually hated children. Now that he knows the truth, that there is no secret to reveal, what was the point anymore? Was it really worth it to make David’s life hell, if it would amount to nothing?

(That was another thing Max had learned at camp: Swear Words. Gwen never bothered to police her language around children, much to David’s consternation, and it didn’t take long for Max to have as much a mouth as her.)

Max speed walked towards the tent area. He’d have ran, but he knew for a fact that Meredith would refuse to act like she made any effort to do things, and Rajeev wouldn’t go on by himself. Getting the tent he wanted was a cinch.

He set his suitcase underneath the cot and grabbed the whiteboard on top, then wrote “MAX’S TENT- YOU FUCKERS BETTER LEAVE ME ALONE” and hung it outside. Meredith and Rajeev were just arriving, and when they saw him, they groaned.

“Dude,” Rajeev said.

“Whatever,” Meredith said, flipping her hair. It barely reached past her ears so it wasn’t particularly effective. “That tent is, like, old news anyway.”

“Last year you said that this was the best tent and everyone else was missing out,” Max told her.

“Pff,” said Meredith. “They’re all the same. It doesn’t even matter.”

“Okay, Meredith,” Max said.

“Actually,” she said, “I’m going by Mer now. It’s a nickname. Meredith is lame.”

“Mare?”

“No, Mer.”

“It won’t last,” Max predicted.

Meredith ignored him and went to the tent right next to his. Rajeev paused, waved at Max, and followed.

And with that, he would finally get peace and quiet for the next two hours it took for David to get through his in depth tour of the camp with the newbies. Ah, yes, he thought, the best time of the summer, nothing can make this go wrong, he can just lay down, relax, and-

“Max!” David yelled in the distance.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Max said.

He turned around and sure enough, there was David, running toward him with a smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Meredith and Rajeev exit their tent with a small whiteboard. The moment they saw David, they looked at each other and quietly went back inside, making the wise decision to hang up their sign later.

David slowed to a stop, panting, still wearing a huge grin.

“Glad I caught you, Max!” he said. “Come on, I left Gwen to handle things for the moment, but, well, she always skips the part about the forest ecosystem so-”

“Wait,” Max said, “you are not taking me back to the or-i-entation.”

David frowned and put his fists on his hips. “Well, I can’t leave you here.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You let me stay here last year. I already went through the whole welcome schtick.”

“Last year you ate all the candy you smuggled in at once and got sick,” David said.

Max crossed his arms. “I���m not that person anymore. I’ve grown. And wait- why aren’t you bringing Meredith and Rajeev too?”

From inside their tent, Meredith yelled, “It’s Mer now!”

“They’re twelve,” David answered. “I trust that they won’t immediately eat all of their illegally brought candy.”

“This is so unfair.”

David ignored him and, rightfully guessing that Max would never go with him willingly, picked him up and tucked him under his arm like a football. Max stubbornly kept his arms crossed.

He wondered how he ever assumed that there would be no reason to torture David. It’d clearly been too long since he last saw him.

For the next two hours, Max sat through pure agony. He had to listen to David talk about all the different kinds of trees at Camp Campbell, and how you shouldn’t go into the forest alone because there are bears, no this is not a joke there are literally bears please don’t go in there by yourself.

Stupid. Boring. Max would make him pay.

The next two weeks passed by predictably: Max did what he always did—that is, exist in apathy until he was forced to do a camp activity, which he would then attempt to ruin—and David did what he always did—try to act as if everything was fine and everyone was happy.

But one day, as Max was drinking his morning coffee, his routine was interrupted.

His arm was grabbed, he dropped his mug, and he opened his mouth to scream, until he heard David’s voice.

“Let’s go, Max!” he said. “Don’t want to be late for camp today!”

Max decided to scream twice as loud.

David winced and covered his ear with his free hand.

“Max, please-”

“Let go of me!” he yelled, scratching at David’s arm and trying to yank his own away. “I’m not going to learn about the environment! You can’t make me!”

“No, it’s-”

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

“Max-”

“You made me drop my coffee!”

“Max!”

Max stopped and looked up at David. He was frowning, rubbing his head, and he seemed very tired.

“It’s your camp activity day, Max,” David said. “Gwen is taking the others for a hike, and we are going to the dining hall.”

“Why?” Max asked suspiciously. “What’s my camp this year? ‘Meditation?’ ‘Pray the humanity away?’ ‘Mind control your child into being the perfect robot?’”

“Well, first off, I think you need to spend a little less time with Gwen. Second, you’ll find out when we get there.”

Max grumbled, but stopped resisting. He’d run if David let go of his arm, but generally, his camps tended to finish quickly, due to his parents writing literally whatever they wanted on the camp form. Last year he only had to balance a textbook on his head for five minutes.

It will be over with soon, Max reassured himself. And if it took too long, he’d find a way to get out of it.

They reached the dining hall, and David only paused long enough to shut the doors and lock them.

Shit, Max thought.

David sit him down at one of the tables and walked to the other side. From underneath the bench, he pulled out a backpack, unzipped it, and overturned the contents in front of them.

Out tumbled three skeins of yarn and two pairs of knitting needles.

Shit, Max thought.

“Knitting can be a bit difficult, so I’ll start off the row for you,” David said. “Then, once you get the hang of it, I’ll show you how to start new rows-”

“No,” Max said.

“It’s easy once you figure it out!” David pleaded- actually pleaded, with his palms together in front of his chest and eyes teary for effect. “Well,” he amended, “there’s always new techniques to learn, and knitting itself can be difficult to master, so I’m not sure if it can be called easy, but I promise you it’s fun!”

“No, listen,” Max said, “I don’t care how you paint it. I am not knitting. It’s- it’s stupid.”

“You call everything stupid,” David pointed out.

“That’s because everything is stupid and there’s no good in the world,” Max said.

“Max, please,” he said. “Just try it? For ten minutes, at the very least.”

Max hesitated, grumbled, stared at the table and kicked his feet and grudgingly said, “Fine.”

David beamed at him and picked up a pair of knitting needles. “First, you have to hold the needles like this,” he grabbed Max’s hands and closed them around the needles, adjusting until his grip was right, “and you take the yarn with your- are you right handed? Take it with your left hand, wrap it around like this-”

And he patiently walked Max through the process, and whenever Max lost his temper and tried throwing the needles he’d grab them out of his hands and wait until he was ready to start again. When Max was able to get a rhythm going—able to reach the end of the row and start a new one with relative ease, though it was a little slow going—David picked up his own knitting needles and started silently knitting along.

An hour and a half later, Max was jolted out of his reverie when the rest of the camp returned from their hike, a conglomeration of loud footsteps dampened by dirt and conversation and the clang of keychains on backpacks. He looked down at his hands, where the start of a scarf rested on the table. It was bunched up and there were some parts where he lost a stitch or held the yarn too loosely, but it was there.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

The noise from outside got louder, and Max realized that they were coming in for lunch. He threw his scarf at David with a panicked scream and scrambled off the bench to run for the cafeteria, where the Quartermaster was already setting out food. The door thumped as someone tried to open it, and Max abruptly remembered that David locked it when they came in.

“I’ll be there in a sec!” David yelled, stuffing all the knitting items back in the bag. The door continued to thump, and the people outside started yelling angrily. By the time it was opened and everyone started rushing in, Max was standing in line to get food, inspecting his fingernails, no funny business here, no siree.

“Ugh,” Rajeev said from behind him, “why’d you get to skip the hike? Gwen just kept on pointing out trees. She just pointed at them and said ‘and that’s a tree.’ I don’t think she knows anything about nature.”

“Did you want to learn about nature?”

“No, but that’s not the point.”

Max rolled his eyes as Rajeev complained about the quality of care they were given.

At least, he thought, he’d never have to knit again.

—

It was late, and Max couldn’t sleep, which was par for the course. Lucky for him, it was a Tuesday- Gwen was supposed to be the one checking to make sure the campers were sleeping.

So he took all his pillows, shoved them under his blanket, and walked off to the lake.

He always liked the lake. It was overgrown with algae so it had a green tinge and almost no fish, but the waves still lapped on the shore and against the dock and the sand was soft and warm. Max liked to lay down and stare at the sky, even though it was a pain to get the sand out of his hair later.

This far away from town, the stars were numerous and bright. Sometimes David tried to teach them about constellations; Max tried not to pay attention, but after a couple years, he knew how to pick out a few anyway.

The Big Dipper was easy. The Little Dipper was dimmer, but he could find it too. Leo looked more like a mouse than a lion. Cassiopeia was just a w. The North Star, Orion’s Belt—it was soothing to list them, and Max could feel himself nodding off, listening to the waves and digging his fingers into the sand-

A branch snapped.

Max darted up.

“Max?”

Emerging from the trees was David, who seemed to have made a habit of spontaneously appearing exactly when Max didn’t want him to.

“There you are,” he said, relieved. “I got worried when I couldn’t find you in your tent! Remember, Max, curfew is at nine- you can’t go wandering around this late.”

Max rolled his eyes and slumped back against the sand.

“Max?” David said, cautiously stepping closer. “Max, we need to get back to the tents.”

“Uuuuuuugggghh,” Max said. Above him, David stopped and placed his hands on his hips.

“Now, Max, I know that I cut you some slack every now and then, but I can’t just leave you here! So get up, get moving, and let’s go to bed!”

He groaned again but started to stand. Very slowly. David tapped his foot impatiently. Max moved slower.

Getting back to his tent was a hassle with his refusal to walk at a reasonable pace, but eventually they reached their destination, and they both stopped.

“You can go now,” Max said after waiting to see if David would leave on his own.

“Ah,” David responded. “Well, actually, before I leave-”

Max sighed. Loudly.

“Go away, David,” he said. “I don’t want you here. Leave me alone.”

David hesitated, but apparently came to a decision, saying a hasty, “Goodnight,” before skittering off to bed.

He unzipped the flap to his tent and walked inside. It was almost exactly how he left it, except for the blanket that was flipped down to reveal his fairly large pillow collection. Max returned them to their usual places in his bed, and crouched down to get his Gameboy Advance SP from its hiding place under the mattress, ready to hunker down for a sleepless night.

Instead, he encountered a bag.

Curiously, Max pulled it out. It wasn’t his, and he didn’t know how it got there. He unzipped it and peeked inside.

The first thing he saw was a shitty looking scarf.

It was bunched up too tight in some places, loose enough to see holes in others, made out of blue and purple yarn and still with knitting needles sticking out the end.

This was the scarf he was making earlier. David must have left it, along with all the other yarn.

Max picked it out and sat of his bed, telling himself that it was only because he had nothing else to do, he didn’t really want to knit, it was just better than playing that Spongebob game for the millionth time.

In the morning, David found him asleep, knitting needles still in hand.

3.

“This way’s the kitchen, over there’s the dining table—not enough space for a full on dining room, but you know what, with just the two of us that shouldn’t matter—down that hallway is the bathroom and office and upstairs-”

David continued yammering as he showed Max around, and Max heard none of it. He shifted the duffel bag higher up on his shoulder. The house smelled sterile; David probably wiped everything down for Max’s arrival.

They walked upstairs, Max running his hand over the railing, David talking about the fluting on the wood or something. There was a door at the end of the hallway. They stopped in front of it.

Max reached out for the doorknob, vaguely recognizing that it was supposed to be where he would sleep, when he caught the last of David’s speech.

“-and I’m sure you’ll be happy here!”

Max slammed the door in his face.

—

The last summer, he’d been sent to Camp Campbell as usual. It was, at the time, the best summer so far.

Nurf and Ered had both aged out by that point—he’d maybe kinda missed Ered a little, if only because she was the one constant at camp besides the adults, but it was a bit of a relief to not have to always watch his back on his designated bullying days. But, at twelve, he was the second oldest kid, and he had Neil and Nikki, and Preston and Harrison were still there, and there was a new kid named Audrey who was seven and thought Max was the coolest kid ever.

David and Gwen were, as always, counselors. He didn’t even mind; Max wouldn’t admit this to anyone but he kind of started to like them. Not hate them. He didn’t go out of his way to try and annoy them, at least, and as far as he was concerned they were a vast improvement to his own parents.

He actually looked forward to staying at Camp Campbell. It started to feel more like home than his actual house did.

Then the summer ended, and they had to go home.

As it happened every year, all the other kids got picked up first. David, used to this, invited Max inside the counselor’s cabin for a late lunch. They talked, got along, didn’t fight or get angry, Max might have smiled once- and even though he knew it was going to end soon he still couldn’t help but feel a little happy to be there.

But they sat, and waited, and it was only after the Quartermaster told them that he was leaving and they both needed to get a life that they might have thought something was wrong.

David called Max’s mom. Then he called Max’s dad. Then he called both of their workplaces, and after they both said that they were gone for the day he called their personal phones again.

No answer.

Max drank his hot chocolate silently.

Two weeks later, a few different conversations with the police, and an exchange of papers led him to his current predicament, which was that his parents were charged with child neglect and David offered to foster him.

For the time being.

That was the part that stuck in Max’s mind.

He wasn’t unhappy with how he lived before. Maybe when he was younger he wanted his parents’ attention, or love, whatever, but he knew how to take care of himself and he didn’t even care about them anymore. He started to care about school, he had friends, and every summer he went back to Camp Campbell, which wasn’t the worst place to be. He got used to being lonely when his parents left for days on end, got used to being hungry when they misjudged the amount of food he needed and had to deal with school lunches. It wasn’t a bad situation.

Max didn’t know what to expect from David.

He didn’t know what his room looked like, though he had been there for at least five minutes. He spent that time flopped face-first on his bed. The sheets smelled like flowers, and were about as soft.

When he felt like he could handle it, he pushed himself up.

The room was fairly small, with yellow walls and a large window opposite the door. There were curtains, but they were so thin and translucent that light shined through anyway, making the atmosphere needlessly cheery. Across from the bed sat a wood desk, complete with a lamp and a chair.

Max looked down. The bed sheets were floral. The carpet was a dark beige. His suitcase stood innocuously next to the door.

This was a guest room. Max couldn’t fathom changing it to something that was his.

“I can foster him for the time being,” he heard David say in his head.

This room would probably stay the guest room even after he left.

Max walked over to his suitcase and unzipped the front pocket to pull out his 3DS. He sat against the door, and lost three Pokemon battles before he realized that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate anytime soon.

He dropped his hands. His DS thumped softly on the carpet.

Why couldn’t his parents just have remembered him that one time?

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think. His brain was swirling around the words for the time being, he was stuck in a guest room and his parents couldn’t even remember their child existed until it got them in jail.

Max put away his DS. From another pocket, he pulled out yarn and needles.

He’d gotten better at knitting over the years. It was calming and it took his mind off things enough for him to relax. He was in a sweater mood at the moment, even though it wouldn’t be cold enough to wear them for a while.

He knitted. His head grew hazy. The trick with sweaters is that you had to make them a bit larger than they had to be, since they shrank in the wash. Once he made socks for Audrey, the kid who kept following around last summer. She thought the size of the socks were ridiculous and laughed for an unnecessarily long time. He kind of missed her.

The yarn was a gradient green, going from light to dark to light again. Green was nice. Max liked the color green more than he used to.

There were still thoughts niggling on the back of his mind. They went away when he trashed the green yarn and went with blue.

Just blue, no purple. Purple probably wouldn’t have helped either.

A few hours passed, and Max jumped when the door thudded on his back.

“Dinner, Max,” David said after he finished knocking. Max didn’t move. Eventually, David left.

He silently put the yarn away, stood up, and opened the door. His bare feet were silent on the polished wood floor of the hallway, and he stayed close to the wall when going down the stairs in case one of them was prone to creaking. David was sitting at the kitchen table, quietly eating macaroni and cheese. Across from him was another bowl.

Max hesitated. His parents had rarely cooked dinner for him, especially since they realized that he learned how to cook himself. He couldn’t get used to this. He wasn’t going to be with David forever.

Yet he still walked over and sat in the chair. David seemed happy to see him.

This wasn’t going to last, Max had to remind himself.

David greeted him happily, asked how he was feeling, backtracked and started talking about trees when he realized that was a loaded question.

This wasn’t going to last.

When Max finished his macaroni, David asked if he wanted more.

It couldn’t last.

“So,” David said awkwardly once he refilled their bowls. “We actually have to talk about something.”

Max stabbed his noodles.

“When do you want to start school?” David asked.

Max aggressively chewed his food, not deigning him with an answer.

“You could start next week,” David said, “which, since it’s Friday, is pretty soon from now, but if you need more time to get used to-”

“Next week is fine,” Max said. It was the first thing he said all day.

“Alright, sounds good,” David said.

They finished their food. David put the dishes in the sink. Max stood to walk back to the guest room.

“Goodnight,” David said.

This would not last, Max told himself as he was falling asleep that night.

—

School was... fine.

It was a new school, so none of his friends were there, but the other kids were fine enough. He made acquaintances. The teacher never called on him to answer. Max wondered if David told her about his “situation.”

Every day, after school, David was home. He’d be playing guitar, or baking cookies, or watching TV, or reading- whatever it was, he’d stop and welcome Max home and ask him about his day. After a month, Max asked him if he had a job. David told him that he did, and he was lucky enough that it matched with Max’s school hours.

In November, Max went up to his room after school, ignoring David’s usual, “Hey Max! How was your day?” to collapse on his bed. The walls were still yellow, the floor was still beige, but the sheets were changed to Batman covers and there were a few posters taped tackily on the walls. His suitcase was under the bed, its contents unpacked.

It didn’t look too much like a guest bedroom anymore. He hadn’t even been there for three months. It should’ve scared him, how comfortable he’d gotten.

The other day, David said something with the words, “when you graduate high school.”  Max didn’t hear the rest of what he said; David thought he’d be there for years. Maybe he expected Max to move out after he graduated, but it kind of made him hope.

Maybe, Max told himself nearly three months after living there, this wasn’t as temporary as he thought.

The next day, he went to school. Some kids asked him if he wanted to play wall ball with them at recess. He said sure.

David got him a phone so he could text Neil and Nikki. The walls in his room were painted blue, almost the same shade as his old hoodie. Whenever he thought too much about his parents, he could pull out whatever knitting project he had on hand and work on it until David called him for dinner.

Maybe this could last, Max told himself.

One day, in December, Max came home from school. He threw his backpack on the couch and paused.

David hadn’t greeted him.

Max very carefully did not react. He walked to the kitchen, getting a glass of water when he saw that David wasn’t there. He looked in the office, pretending he lost a paper even when it was empty. There was no one in the bathroom.

He walked upstairs, and after seeing that David wasn’t there either, decided that he actually wanted to work on his homework instead of hanging out in the guest room and went back to where he left his backpack.

Apparently, David wasn’t home.

That was fine. This was fine. Max was used to arriving to an empty house. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care.

He shouldn’t have gotten used to this, Max told himself, it was stupid to assume David would always be there.

“I can foster him for the time being,” he heard for the first time in a while. He tried to bury himself in math homework. David would usually help him if he had trouble.

This wouldn’t have been able to last, he told himself.

Max was in the middle of his english homework when he heard the door to the backyard open. David stepped inside, covered in dirt, and brightened with a grin when he saw Max sitting on the couch.

“Oh, hey Max!” he said. “I didn’t realize you were home! I guess I lost track of time- gardening can be so hypnotizing, you know? But hey, got all the winter plants taken care of! They’ll probably start sprouting soon enough, and man, I can’t wait for them to bloom-”

Max stood up without a word and walked away, leaving his things behind.

“Max?” David said worriedly, as if just now figuring out that something might have been wrong. “Are you alright? Did something happen at school today?”

Max stomped up the stairs. He slammed his door. David didn’t follow.

A couple hours later, halfway through a yellow scarf, there was a knock on the door.

“Dinner’s done,” David said.

Max didn’t answer. David knocked again.

“Are you coming?” he asked. Max stayed silent. David didn’t leave.

“Do you need to talk about something?” he said. “Remember, I’m here for-”

“Go away,” Max told him.

“If it’s something I did, then-”

“Go away!” he yelled.

For a moment, there was silence. Then footsteps going toward the stairs. Max picked up his knitting needles again.

He shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable, he told himself, he shouldn’t have been so stupid.

The yellow scarf, when he was done, was nearly as bad as his first.

4.

Max’s door opened, and in walked in David. Max screeched.

“Go away!” he yelled, scrambling off his bed to rush toward David.

“I just wanted to ask-”

“No!” Max tried shoving David out the door. At fourteen, he was nearly to David’s shoulder, though scrawnier than ever. David was probably letting himself get hustled out.

“Okay, Max, have fu-”

The door slammed in his face.

“You didn’t have to be that mean,” Nikki said. She coughed into her elbow. According to her, David’s house in general was better than most urban civilizations, but she still got a cold whenever she left her cabin in the woods, where she lived with her dad.

“Listen, Nikki,” Max said, “I am being very nice by letting you design me a- a goddamn fursona.” He said the words like a curse. “I am not letting Dad see what we’re doing in here.”

Nikki smirked evilly. Max eyed her.

“What?” he said suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Nikki sang, and went back to her sketchbook. She was drawing a very fluffy black cat wearing a blue hoodie. It was sitting next to an anxious owl and a wolf, which looked like it wanted to eat them both.

They were both silent.

“Okay, seriously, what?” Max asked. “What are you hiding? And fuck you no version of me is that fluffy.”

“Nothing,” Nikki insisted, drawing the cat fluffier just to spite him. “But, uh, if you could ask your dad if he could make cookies that’d be cool.” She drew out the word “dad” mockingly. Max made a face at her.

“David is not my dad,” he insisted.

“Alright,” Nikki said unconvincingly.

“He’s not.”

“Okay.”

“He’s stupid and I hate him.”

“If you say so.”

Max looked like he wanted to argue more, but gave up and went downstairs to tell David to make them cookies.

After he left, Nikki pulled out her phone and texted Neil to make fun of him for choosing to finish his science fair project instead of hanging out with them.

5.

As it turned out, graduating high school was a fairly boring affair.

Most of it was sitting. Underneath his robes Max wore a nice pair of slacks and a blue button up shirt, complete with a shiny pair of loafers that he would never wear again.

The senior president was taking her sweet time calling out names. A couple kids slowed down the affair by tripping on stage. He would’ve played games on his phone if David hadn’t taken it away before the ceremony started.

Finally, his row stood to go. They had to walk to the backstage area, and go through curtains that a teacher would hold open for each person. It was all very convoluted. Max just wanted to get it over with.

His name was called, the teacher opened the curtains for him, and she dropped them too early so his hat nearly fell off- luckily he had to use bobby pins to keep it on, so it was secure.

The moment he stepped on stage, he could hear a lot of shouting. His eyes followed the sound to the middle of the crowd, and there sat everyone he cared about.

Neil was conservative about his cheering, but he looked happy enough. He graduated the previous year so he had to travel from college to come to his graduation, and Max told him not to bother, but Neil just said, “Fuck you, you came to my graduation and now I have to return the favor.”

Beside him, Nikki was howling. Literally howling. She probably learned it from the wolves she managed to befriend (and he still didn’t know how the fuck she did that, though the same could be said for most of the things she did). She was jumping up and down and waving her arms wildly. The parents next to her looked fearful for their lives.

And, loudest of them all, David. He was screaming his heart out, saying things like “Max I’m so proud of you!” and “I’m so happy you made it this far!” There were tears on his face, and Gwen, standing beside him, seemed embarrassed on his behalf, but she still smiled and flashed Max a thumbs up.

Max smiled back and stepped forward to take his diploma.

—

Later the five of them were at a restaurant, talking and laughing, trading congratulations and wondering about the future.

David turned to him, said something, clapped him on the back, went back to conversing with Gwen.

It didn’t feel real.

How did Max get here?

He was in a four star restaurant with what was essentially his family, he didn’t imagine a black pit in his future, he could barely remember when he last felt lonely for a long period of time.

Max was happy, and so were the people around him. This was the life he couldn’t fathom when he was living with his parents.

His parents were out and about these days, he knew. Sometimes, Max was afraid that they’d show up on his doorstep, demanding he come back with them. That he had a responsibility to them. That he had to love them, just because they “raised” him, even though they never loved him the way he needed.

Max stabbed a green bean and shoved it in his mouth. He hated green beans. It was a good distraction.

“How come green beans come with every steak dinner?” Max wondered out loud.

“You’ve gotta have some vegetables,” Neil said.

“Mashed potatoes are vegetables!” Nikki told them.

“I’m not sure if mashed potatoes count,” David said.

“If schools can say that french fries are vegetables,” Gwen said, “then mashed potatoes are vegetables.”

Their conversation devolved into complaints about the American education system. Max’s mouth hurt. He was still smiling. He wished no one noticed.

Max had hope for the future, and he wasn’t afraid to keep holding on to it.

—

They finished dinner, and Max grabbed the graduation robe he slung over the chair and stood to leave. Nikki and Neil stood with him; the three of them planned to burn his robe and hat in a fire and then go to some party Max was invited to. Gwen and David stayed behind to pay the bill.

“Have fun, kids,” Gwen said.

“Yeah!” David yelled. “Have fun, don’t drink, don’t do drugs, drive save, please be home by ten-”

“David, Max just graduated, I think he’s responsible enough to have a sleepover,” Gwen said.

“I mean, sure, but I get kind of worried, you know?”

“Alright,” Max said, “I’m leaving, bye, have fun doing whatever it is you’re going to do-”

“We’re going to watch all the Shrek movies,” Gwen deadpanned.

“-and I did not need to know that ‘kay thanks see you later.”

While they were talking, Neil and Nikki went to stand by the door. Neil tapped his foot impatiently and pointedly gestured to his watch when Max looked over.

He gave one last wave and went to join them. Behind him he heard David yelp—presumably because Gwen elbowed him, as she was wont to do, though he couldn’t imagine what David did this time.

Max reached his friends. Together, they walked outside; it rained while they were in the restaurant, so the air was damp and it smelled like wet concrete. Hopefully the wood they were going to use to make a fire didn’t get too waterlogged.

Footsteps slapped behind them. Max turned around and there, unsurprisingly, was David.

For as long as he’d known him, David had a habit of running after him. It was weird. David always cared too much.

“Hey, Max,” David said, “before you leave, can we- uh, have a talk? Just you and me.”

Max paused, shrugged, and turned around to tell Nikki and Neil to wait for him in the car, only to see that they already left without him. Typical.

“Alright,” he said. “But soon we’re going to be ridiculously late instead of fashionably late, so make it quick.”

David fidgeted. He stuck his hands in his pockets, took them out, rested them on his hips before he rethought that and crossed his arms instead.

“You gonna talk anytime soon?” Max asked.

“Uh, yeah.” David cleared his throat. “Well, to start off, I just wanna tell you- you know I love you, right, Max? You’re- you’re family, to me. To Gwen too. And you always will be.”

Max’s eyes darted around, looking anywhere but David’s face. He settled them on the ground when it felt like moving them anymore would dislodge the tears.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “I- yeah, I think I know. And- you’re, uh, you’re not half-bad, I guess.” He brought a fist up to his mouth and coughed. It didn’t help much.

David nodded affirmatively. “Right. Right. And I know you just graduated, and you’re already eighteen, but—I’ve been talking about this with Gwen, she says it’s a good idea—actually she said it would’ve been a good idea years ago, but I didn’t think you’d have been open to it then-”

“What are you saying, David?” Max asked.

“What I’m saying,” David said, “is that if you’d like, I would, uh- I want to adopt you. Officially.”

For a few seconds, Max didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. And when he opened his mouth to try and say something, all that came out was a croak.

Keeping his eyes from moving didn’t help in the end. Tears fell. He brought up an arm to roughly rub them away, and it caught on his nose too, covering his sleeve in snot. His dress shirt was probably ruined.

“I- I mean, it’s just an option,” David said nervously. “If you don’t like the idea, that’s- that’s fine, you’re family regardless, it’s your choi-”

“Shut up, David,” Max managed to say through the tears. “God, I’m just about to go to a party, why’d you have to bring this up now? Should’ve- should’ve waited until I got back home, when there weren’t other people around.” He sniffed.

“Sooooo,” David said, “is that a... yes? No?”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Max said. “It’s a- okay, fine, I don’t care, adopt me or whatever, let’s just- talk about this later.”

“It sure looks like you care,” David pointed out.

“Go away, David,” Max said, without any real heat. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You can talk more about- about this then. Okay?”

David smiled. It was a bit different from his usual blinding grins, but no less brighter for it.

“Alright, Max.”

Max turned around and walked briskly to the car where his friends were waiting, ready to burn his graduation robes to make room for the future.

+1

David set the last of the boxes on the floor and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Well, I think that’s the last of them,” he said.

Max looked around at his college dorm room and nodded. It was fairly empty, but it wouldn’t be for long. He had a lot of shit to unpack. Hopefully his roommate wouldn’t mind.

Together, Max and David started the climb back down to the car.

“So,” David said, “what were you planning on majoring in? Do you have any plans for your career?”

A couple years ago, Max would’ve gotten broody and silent at questions like that, not being able to imagine a time where he’d actually go to college and have goals. He’d gotten better at that kind of thing, though.

“I don’t really have a specific major yet,” Max said, “but, uh, I actually kind of wanted to become a teacher.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. David looked a bit surprised.

“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t think you’d like being around kids so much. You always acted more like Gwen whenever you came to help out at Camp Campbell.”

Max shrugged, put his hands in his jeans. “Yeah, well, I just kind of thought- when I was a kid, I wasn’t really subtle, you know? I mean. In retrospect, it was pretty obvious that my home life was kind of not great. And I was kinda thinking- I don’t hate kids, they can be pretty cool, and teachers are, like, taught signs of abuse in kids, but most of them don’t want to believe it actually happens so they either just don’t recognize it for what it is or they make rationalizations and the kid just keeps on living with their shitty family. So I thought- hey, I know what it can look like, I know how it can be—not for all of them, there’s different kinds of- you know—but.”

Max took a deep breath, not realizing until he stopped how much he needed air.

“Uh, yeah,” he said awkwardly. “That’s what I’m planning right now.”

David was smiling at him. He always smiled. For some reason, it wasn’t as annoying as it used to be, when he was six and miserable.

“Max,” David said. He hesitated, then grabbed Max in a full body hug.

“Max, I am so proud of you.”

It took barely a second for Max to return the hug. He pressed his face in David’s shoulder, not wanting to be seen crying. It was stupid for him to cry. David always said he was proud of Max, and he was pretty free with hugs, too. This shouldn’t have been any different.

But ever since David adopted him it felt like tears came easier. Max didn’t know if he cared much for that side effect.

Eventually, David let go, pretending not to notice Max vigorously wiping his face.

“Well,” he said, “guess I should probably leave you to unpack, huh? I’m sure if I stayed and hassled you any longer you’d just start telling me to go away.” David laughed like it was a joke.

“Uh, wait,” Max said. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, widened his stance like he was ready for a fight. In his mind, it kind of was.

“I know I never really, uh, say anything,” he said, “but I need to make sure- like, I know I usually come across as- not caring, or apathetic, or- hostile, but I-”

His eyes pricked. He was about to cry again. This just has to happen every time he tries to express any sort of strong positive emotion.

“I love you, and you’ve done so much for me, even when I hated you—or acted like I hated you, I don’t know—and you just. You mean a lot to me, Dad.”

In front of him, David was bawling. There would be no end to it for the next few hours, at least, but Max only had himself to blame.

He braced himself for one more comment.

“If you want,” he said, “you can stay for a bit longer, help me unpack my stuff. You don’t have to leave yet.”

Twelve years after they first met, David stepped forward to join Max.

[cielofics]

(Old) ICMSAR XVIII

WARNING(S): OCC's, Parent!bashing, depressing!thoughts, suicidal!tendencies,

NOTES: "Japanese" "Italian" Thinking 'Tsuna's eye speak' [Text Messages]

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Amano Akira does

The grave words rang through everyone's head and they couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"W-Wha..." Takeshi said, shock written on his face.

"N-No cure?" Gokudera whispered to himself in disbelief.

"B-Bossu will d-die...?" Chrome said stunned. Mukuro wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she started crying.

Mukuro and Hibari didn't say anything but one could tell they were surprised and were in disbelief. They had gotten close to the brunet; much more when they found him after getting their memories. To hear the words that the brunet will die was disturbing.

Unleashing his tonfas and trident, Mukuro and Hibari had it pointing towards the assassin doctor, "Find a cure."

If anyone was surprised, they didn't show it. Everyone knew that those two were possessive even if they rarely showed it.

Shamal raised his hands and gulped, "I-I'm telling y-you this has n-no cu-"

"We said to find one," they said, a dark aura was present behind them.

"I-It's still i-in its p-primary stage. I-It will take weeks t-to find- You know what, fine. I'll search for one!" Shamal exclaimed as every other guardian also directed their weapons towards him. He was scared s*** since every guardian (minus Ryohei) was unleashing a very very dangerous KI (Killer Intent).

In the mean time, Reborn had gone inside to where Tsuna was lain on the bed who was sweating profusely and gave out an occasional whimper. Ryohei left the room saying that he would search for the cure after taking a blood sample.

Grabbing the teens hand, he channeled his Sun flames to help but it didn't seem to work. He grits his teeth in frustration. Once again this happened and on his watch. It was just one bite and it rendered his sky, his son like this. He'll kill Ienari in the most painful ways possible; he wouldn't let him or Iemitsu survive.

After all, they messed with the wrong person.

XX..XX

Shamal and Ryohei were working together to find a cure. Shamal found it odd seeing the usually loud and boisterous teen quietly working on the project.

"You seem to really like the brunet," he said as he examined the blood sample given to him by Ryohei.

"Of course, he's my little brother," he replied not missing a beat.

Shamal was impressed. The brunet managed to gather the most unusual people together and got them to co-operate. He was very surprised to find the Vindice escapee, Mukuro Rokudo to be a mist guardian for the brunet even if the brunet didn't know it himself. He got his former student too who respected the brunet like crazy. Then, there's also that cloud, Hibari Kyoya.

A group filled with people who wouldn't interact at all was brought together by a weak looking brunet. He snorted inwardly, Guess it's true to 'never judge a book by it's cover.'

"Oh yeah. You seem very knowledgeable about medical stuff. Didn't know you were interested in it," Shamal said, continuing to examine the blood.

Ryohei paused for a moment as his eyes took a wistful look. "Of course, I need to," he said softly that surprised Shamal. "Tsuna needed my help and I'd do anything to help him. You know, the sky should never be chained. It leaves the others restless and restricted."

Shamal jerked in surprise. Did they- No they shouldn't. But did he mean- But as he looked in the eyes of the boxer, he couldn't help but be surprised at the sheer knowledge, the depth of knowledge he had as though he had lived through hell twice.

And it was at that moment that Shamal saw it. A shadow of someone older and stronger who remained strong yet had seen too much.

It had disappeared as fast as it came, leaving the perverted doctor baffled as he stared at the boxer who clearly knew more than what he should and that he should inform Rebor-

"Shamal?" Ryohei's voice snapped through whatever his mind had fallen into temporarily. "You okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Shamal said but with the narrowing of the younger's eyes, he knew he wasn't convinced. "I was thinking of checking up on Tsunayoshi's condition."

"I'll come with you then," Ryohei said as he started to finish up whatever he was observing.

"Huh? No, you don-"

"Shamal, I am coming. He is my otouto." And it was said with such conviction that he couldn't say anything else.

XX..XX

Everything was black; nothing could be seen. Why? Why can't I see? Where is everybody? Where?!

I'm alone... Alone again. Again

Again

Again! Where are they?! Why can't I see? I don't want to be alone!

"It's all your fault!"

My fault?

"We died because of you!"

Who died? Who are you? Where have I heard this voice?

"You brought us into this! Kyoko died because of you, you monster!"

Monster? Kyoko died? My fault?

"How cruel of you, Vongola Decimo. To betray me after gaining my trust. I should have killed you when I'd had gotten the chance to."

Mukuro? I betrayed you? When?

"Such a useless sky. We don't need you. We've found a better sky. Leave."

No no no no! Don't leave me alone! Not again not again!

.

.

.

I'm sorry! I'm sorry... please don't leave me alone. I dont want to be left alone!

"Hahaha, you can't escape, Dame-Tsuna!" A voice came from somewhere. Who are you? Where are you speaking from?

"You'll die alone! Just like how you deserve to!" The last that was remembered were eerily glowing blue eyes before a soft and familiar voice pulled him back.

XX..XX

"His heart rate is increasing!" Shamal yelled as Ryohei went about to find those d*** defibrillators.

They were on their way to the brunet and when they thought his condition couldn't get worse, he started having a seizure!

"Tsuna," Ryohei called as he got near the brunet as Shamal got the equipment ready. "Everything will be fine. We're here. Everyone is. So please, calm down! "

People didn't believe that talking to a man who was practically near death would work. But Ryohei had worked long enough with Tsuna to know how to react. Even though Tsuna didn't say that he could hear Ryohei exactly, he had implied that he had felt something.

And Ryohei was going to take his chances. He would do anything to bring back the brunet who accepted him as who he was. And nothing, not even this poison would stop him.

[celticnoise]

When this transfer window closes, the extent of our board’s “ambition” for the club will have been laid bare.

Somewhere inside Parkhead a decision has been made that money in the bank is more important than having as good a team on the park as we can have. That is the long and short of it. We are well on course for a let-down of epic proportions.

I read Brendan’s media interviews with a deep sense of disappointment.

I felt my spirits sink lower with every word.

He all but confirms that the central defence will not be touched.

He even used one of the arguments I posted the other day; that Boyata and Benkovic will be first picks and anyone else would have to displace one of them in the team.

It is the lamest excuse for doing nothing I’ve ever heard from a Celtic manager.

“To be brutally honest, if we were to bring in someone of the quality we require they would want to play,” he said.

It is the first time I’ve ever heard a manager retreat from the idea of signing people to create competition. It is also the first time I’ve heard a manager express a preference for playing loanees and people on the way out the door rather than taking six months to bed in players who will be here next season and who want to play for the club.

It scares me to hear such a shocking thing from Brendan Rodgers. I have no doubt that some in the media will very soon be filleting him for those comments, and I have no difficulty whatsoever understanding why they will do it.

I understand now that the idea of benching Boyata for the remainder of his term here as he’s already checked out doesn’t appeal to Rodgers or to the board.

I guess the idea of bringing in someone who does want to be here and playing him instead would cost money. And so we’ve taken the “strategic decision” to turn the summer into a desperate scramble to fill holes that should be filled right now.

As to signing a right-back? Who knows. The manager is talking about “availability and affordability” which doesn’t sound promising in the least. We moved for two players, neither of whom it looks as if we will sign. Has everyone just given up? Is that it? I know we call it a short-list, but two players? Are Celtic really telling us that there are no right backs in all of Europe who we can get and who are a better bet than an over the hill Mikael Lustig?

I’m afraid that’s simply not true. It’s just that the board at Celtic Park isn’t willing to pay for one.

We sold Dembele for a Scottish transfer record in the summer, allegedly at the last minute, allegedly against our will.

Far from getting the bulk of it back to invest in the team, the manager is not going to be given one penny of it.

This is the cold, hard fact of it.

The board apologists who will tell me some was spent on Bayo should save their pitiful justifications for those upon whom they will work.

The manager was not backed in the summer either.

Call the Bayo signing the leftovers of what we should have spent – but didn’t – then.

We’re on Day 18, and this is when the excuses start, the excuses some people were predicting would be rolled out all month. Time is against us. Clubs don’t want to sell players. But look around Europe. Players are moving freely. The market is busy. And the best we can do are loanees and project footballers.

This is not about the market.

That is an excuse.

I would respect people more at Celtic Park if they spoke the truth about this.

We’re sticking to a policy. When that policy was simply risk-averse I could stomach it. Because we signed Bosman’s. We signed experienced players whose careers had dipped with the consideration only that they improved the team in some small way. We shopped around, we looked for bargains. But we signed quality.

We do not do that so much any longer.

The focus now is on whether or not a player has a re-sale value somewhere down the line. We “invest” in “assets”.

We are, as I feared, going to be revealed as a business running a football club.

As a for-profit, which exists to enrich directors and executives, with minimal investment in the team.

Under the current strategy there would have been no Nakamura, no Sutton, no Hartson, no Thompson. This is not risk averse. It is high-risk. It’s just a different sort of risk. We now market ourselves as a “stepping stone” and a development club.

I will no longer be surprised to see Ntcham depart in this window.

The groundwork is already being laid for it. Every media report today mentions how players will have to leave before others can be brought in, as if we were Glasgow’s impoverished club, as if we were the ones sitting on a debt time-bomb. In case no-one noticed that club just brought in two footballers from England and made them the highest paid players in the country … and they’re busily building next season’s team right now.

Yes, it’s madness. Of course it is. But nobody will ever be able to accuse their board of not going all-out, of not going all-in. And the thing of it is, if it works and their club hits the skids over the summer not a single one of their supporters will care and neither will ours. Because that which we coveted most will have been snatched from us, for good. Because Operation: Stop The Ten will have been accomplished and we’re back to zero again.

Their board knows what its priority is, and there’s not an Ibrox supporter who would argue with it.

Lunacy, but the kind football fans well understand. That their whole club could collapse on the back of it will provide no consolation whatsoever to Celtic fans who will have witnessed the pitiful, shameful, cowardly squandering of an historic opportunity.

And of course, if their club did manage to secure the title they would have a shot at the Champions League pot of gold that could, with their luck, hoist them up from the perilous position their spending splurge has put them in. In other words, their gamble might pay off.

At Celtic, we have no further, no higher, no greater ambition than to be what we are, which is what we’ve made ourselves. A club which the manager of West Brom can disdain by saying he’s sent us one of their reserves to make him into a man. I shuddered hearing that dismissal of our stature when he talked about Oliver Burke. It shook me because it confirms my fear that Celtic is seen now as a feeder club by many of England’s mid-table teams.

I am sure Peter Lawwell simply let it wash over him.

The statement is accurate, after all, and a vindication of the strategy and how we market ourselves.

Under our board all talk of us aspiring to be a football power is a fraud.

There’s a report on the official site today which confirms that we’re one of only 15 clubs in Europe to pass the 1 million mark in terms of fans through the gate this season.

That’s your commitment to this club.

Where is the commitment from those running it which you deserve?

You made that record, not them.

All talk of seeing us ourselves as a massive club is PR bollocks designed to sell season tickets and nothing more.

So I am resigned to it, to a window of abject disappointment, a window of projects and loans. All the hype before it and in the last 18 days was for naught. We’re not going to move significantly forward here, and I blame a lot of people for this, including myself.

The bloggers do as much as anyone to push expectations sky high during the transfer window, and as such I’m going to make you all a promise right now; no matter how good the “source”, no matter how exciting the information, no matter how much I’ll kick myself if I miss a scoop, I am not going to feed into this any longer. Not for one more day.

Between now and the end of this window I am going to write about transfer deals only when they are done, and with a critical eye. Further loans are certain, more short-termism absolutely guaranteed. We have lost the ability to forward plan.

We’ll probably get a right back that way, and so that task too will be put off until the summer.

Through all of this, and even through my growing frustration at his own blind-spots and his own clear failure to get what he wants and what he needs for this team, I cannot be anything but grateful to have Brendan Rodgers at the helm. He has dragged this team beyond what it should ever have been capable of. He has been lamentably served by those above him, and he continues to perform miracles in spite of, not because of, their neglect.

Hell mend us, hell mend them, if he decides to call it quits in the summer.

The reckoning will not be delayed then; it will not be put off.

It will have arrived.

You can discuss this and and all the other stories by signing up at the Celtic Noise forum at the above link. This site is one of the three that has pushed for the forum and we urge all this blog’s readers to join it. Show your support for real change in Scottish football, by adding your voice to the debate.

http://bit.ly/2QU7raw

[blogparadiseisland]

Business Manslaughter defendant in ‘stand your ground’ case said he felt scared in altercation

Business Manslaughter defendant in ‘stand your ground’ case said he felt scared in altercation Business Manslaughter defendant in ‘stand your ground’ case said he felt scared in altercation http://www.nature-business.com/business-manslaughter-defendant-in-stand-your-ground-case-said-he-felt-scared-in-altercation/

Business

(CNN)Michael Drejka, the Florida man who shot dead Markeis McGlockton after McGlockton shoved him, said he feared for his life during the parking lot altercation.

“I was very scared. I’ve never been confronted like that, never been assaulted like that, if you will, ever,” Drejka said in a recent jailhouse interview.

Drejka fatally shot McGlockton after an argument with McGlockton’s girlfriend over a handicapped parking space in July. Pinellas County Sheriff Bob Gualtieri initially declined to arrest Drejka, citing the state’s “stand your ground” law. But Pinellas and Pasco County State Attorney Bernie McCabe charged Drejka with manslaughter in August.

Drejka’s interview last Friday with WTSP were his first public comments since his arrest. The sheriff’s office released video of the interview over the weekend.

During the nearly 30-minute interview, Drejka said he

believed he followed the “stand your ground” law

and felt “vindicated” when Gualtieri initially didn’t charge him. Drejka, who is white, seemed to express little remorse for fatally shooting McGlockton, who is black, and denied being a racist.

The altercation with McGlockton left him feeling stunned, like he had been tackled — not shoved — in the Clearwater parking lot, Drejka said.

Drejka said he “didn’t know it was a shove.”

“It felt like I was tackled, or someone hit me from behind with something. I left my feet, and slid along the ground,” Drejka, 48, said in the interview.

Drejka’s comments echoed what he told authorities, according to a copy of his criminal complaint.

Drejka, who has pleaded not guilty, was being held in the Pinellas County Jail. The sheriff’s office said bail has been set at $100,000.

McGlockton, 28, died July 19 after the altercation between the two men. McGlockton’s girlfriend, Britany Jacobs, had parked in the handicapped space and Drejka confronted her while McGlockton was in a store.

McGlockton came outside, approached Drejka and shoved him to the ground, surveillance video shows. Drejka pulled out a handgun and, as McGlockton backed away from him, shot him in the chest.

According to the criminal complaint, Drejka said McGlockton tackled him and he was afraid during the incident and fired in self-defense. But a detective wrote that Drejka was more than 10 feet away from McGlockton when he opened fire.

Drejka said he becomes frustrated when he sees people misuse handicapped parking spaces. A high school sweetheart, who is now deceased, became handicapped after an accident as a teenager, Drejka said. His mother-in-law is handicapped, too, he said.

“It’s always touched a nerve with me … the way they’re abused and used,” he said.

When asked if there is anything he would change about that day, Drejka said he didn’t see anything he would change.

Drejka initially declined to address McGlockton’s family directly when asked if there was anything he wanted to say to them.

“I really don’t think this is the right place to talk to the family directly,” he said.

Later in the interview, Drejka apologized to McGlockton’s family.

“I’m sorry. That’s all I can really say to them. …Thinking about it, would you accept those kinds of words from someone? I don’t think I would,” he said. “I think there’s too much hate already … for me to be able to say anything that would make any kind of difference,” he said.

McGlockton’s father said his son was rightly standing up for his family and that there’s no way the shooting could be justified.

“If you push a man down to the ground, that man does not deserve to be shot. Stand up and fight with your fists,” Michael McGlockton said before Drejka was charged.

McGlockton’s family has said Drejka “killed Markeis in cold blood without a second thought about the devastating impact his actions would have on our family,” according to a statement released after Drejka was charged.

The family believed the manslaughter charge was appropriate, the family’s attorney Michele Rayner said then.

Florida’s “stand your ground law,” which is perhaps the strongest in the country, grants immunity to the person acting in self-defense. The state has to prove that a shooter didn’t act in self-defense and is therefore not entitled to immunity.

Gualtieri’s initial decision not to file charges caused critics to question whether the sheriff was correctly interpreting the law.

Drejka said he was “shocked” and “devasted’ when prosecutors charged him.

“I followed the law the way I felt the law was supposed to be followed. I cleared every hurdle that that law had,” Drejka said.

CNN’s Eliott C. McLaughlin and Jamiel Lynch contributed to this report.

Read More | Darran Simon, CNN,

Business Manslaughter defendant in ‘stand your ground’ case said he felt scared in altercation, in 2018-09-04 03:43:22

[daimonic-clown]

Ghosts

“Listen, listen, alright, I didn’t do anything. One of my patrons living around here must have stolen the ring they gave as payment.”

Two moons and scattered stars made up the design on the robes of the woman. On her back was a staff that held a faint blue glow, and on her face was one that reflected pure agitation.

“Sildor, if I came here to prove whether or not you were doing something questionable, my search would be over. I’m asking for who gave it you.”

Sildor gripped at his cane. He was anxious, and Saber had read that. His other hand gripped his cane, too, and he looked to the ground. He was a gruff man, tall, and it was  certain he had to have been nearly old enough to have seen the barrier down. Older than her, even. He had a bad left leg, and so the cane was not simply for show; even if its design of a snake wrapping about his hand as he gripped it did unnerve ever so slightly.

His history among the Duskwatch was a scattering of various different accounts. Some claimed he led the most lucrative smuggling in Suramar at some point before he suffered his injury. Adversaries saw him as far weaker and moved in, so he changed his name and started more charity-based work providing protected space and work for the homeless. Some said it was not smuggling and instead, was prostitution. Others even went as far as saying he was a court assassin to a long dead family; his injury was the result of a noble family’s vindication.

The truth was not so simple, and Saber was all too aware of that. Sildor certainly broke laws , but it was far less serious than what most claim. There had been multiple names for a man who had taken in orphans for thousands of years – they were notorious for networking information relating to targets to loot. Sildor himself was not responsible for theft, not directly at least. That’s what made it entirely difficult to pin any crimes on him. Saber viewed his ‘protected children’ as proxies to his own crimes.

What she saw on him, however, softened her up. An invisible effect, she made sure of that at least. He was feeling guilt. Sildor never lost a kid to the Duskwatch, or any rough sorts who made up the poorer ends of Suramar. He was trying to think of a way to not break that record today.

“Listen,” she said through gritted teeth. “Show me the kid, right? I just want to talk to him, I promise you I won’t do anything bad. If anything I’m actually… impressed.”

Now Sildor was surprised. One of his hands left the cane, and he leaned back with an inquisitive stare, silent. “Impressed? Why would you of all people be impressed, Captain?”

She quietly scoffed. “Don’t get too excited. The child not only eluded me with tricky magic, they also gave me the spark to investigate that shop. Turns out, there’s bigger thieves in Suramar than you.”

“Huh, wow.” He started to slip the stolen ring off his finger, “What do you know– I mean, I know the kids out here have a good heart and all just–”

Saber held a hand out to stop him from taking the ring off. “Shut up and show me the kid. And keep it. The lady found a new ring and stopped pestering us to find it.”

“Snooze you lose, then, eh?” Perhaps he found himself clever, but Saber found him increasingly insufferable. She stared at him as if silently pressing for him to get on with directions.

“Right, right, let’s go,” Sildor said, “the boy’s name is Cathiir, girl’s Elodine.” He stopped a moment to turn his head, quieting his tone. “And the only reason I’m concerned is you sure as hell better not break them up, Saber. They’ll never let you live it down. There’s persistent children, then there’s Cath and Elo.”

Saber nodded to herself and looked underneath the massive bridge in the center of Suramar. Two children… it made it no less surprising to her. Sure, one child’s plots outwitting her was shocking, but the fact that two adolescent minds managed to work that well was even more impressive in a way.

“Noted,” Saber said. Sildor, satisfied with her answer, continued on.

“Right, also, if he disappears just reach in his general direction, grab 'em by the collar. He’ll show up right then. Little bugger gets scared easy.”

Saber couldn’t help but emit a snicker at that.

“Also noted.”

Cathiir cleared his throat and stood at the door to a large manor. He knocked on its door, and waited patiently out in front of it. His eyes made themselves busy by looking over the flowers growing by the door. Leypetal blossoms – even with the demons breaking down the doors of her neighbors, it did not mean that Madame Aslyssa would stop keeping up appearances.

No matter what she had to endure, she kept it all together. The death of her husband so many thousands of years ago had taken its toll. Though still, she kept her girls safe, and taught them the means to express themselves and – most importantly – use magic to defend themselves. Even with conspiracy and the amoral sorts breaking down her sanctuary to try and sway her girls into degrading work, she still fought on.

Cathiir originally only associated with Madame Aslyssa as a way to keep in touch with Elodine. He found so much more; her ability to keep sane despite the most damning insanities was a much needed trait. One not even his father could provide to him. His sister spent nearly all of her time training in blade and spell – she knew her time to enter the Duskwatch’s ranks would be inevitable. Elodine and Aslyssa were all he had.

The door swung open, and immediately Cathiir heard her low, yet enchanting voice… well, bickering. “Go – go! Dammit, Veltari, I told you, Elodine shows up and Cathiir isn’t far away. Do I look too old to answer my own door to a boy who doesn’t get the hint that he’s welcome here?”

Her servant, always the polite sort, bowed his body. “I am sorry, my Lady.”

“Get the wine and glasses while I proceed to invite Cathiir in and berate him for not using his permanent invitation. Maybe not in that order.” She turned her attention to Cathiir at his door. He knew the drill: first he bowed, then he stepped in kiss both of Aslyssa’s cheeks.

“Fine, fine, I’ll spare you the lecture, child. Come in, come in. It’s gloomy outside.” Cathiir stepped inside the manor, and before the door was shut, Aslyssa looked all about, maybe it was paranoia, or maybe it was an action to be entirely certain trouble was not brewing.

Besides the marching that seemed to never cease, it was quiet. She shut the door and made her way through the manor to her study, where Cathiir had already sat himself.

“So Elodine was here, too,” Cathiir said. He was tense in the chair, as if in any moment he would leave to tend to affairs he was late for.

Madame Aslyssa moved across the study, with grace she showed at every moment. It did not take a detective or genius to figure out she had a spark of dance within her. Pair that with her beauty and voice that seemed to always linger in the air, and it was an easy guess she was an entertainer at heart. She sat down in a chair beside Cathiir; the only two in the room. Across from them was something of a fireplace. Though in place of a fire was a brilliant magical display – it looked as constellations darting into different patterns. If one stared for too long they may start to try and read if there was any repeats in the patterns. Truth was, there was none. It was all created by Aslyssa for show, and a meditative distraction. It had been a long time since Cathiir looked into this simple display of flashy magic suspended in its nook, and let his thoughts drain away.

Today wasn’t the day he would say he had done it, though.

“I do not even need to off-handedly say that for you to know.” She smirked, and thanked her servant as he arrived with two filled glasses of arcwine. “Furthermore,” she had taken a small sip from her glass, and continued, “I do not need to ask to know she told you what I would say.”

“You would ask me why I haven’t made it official with her.” He, too, grabbed his glass and sipped.

“Tsk, tsk,” Her expression was blank, though it was forced. She wanted to smile, and treat it as a gentle endeavor, though over the past couple of decades it seemed she treated the subject more seriously. “It isn’t asking too much. She isn’t even sure if you two are an item… and neither do you.”

Cathiir shifted in his seat and stuttered. “I… It’s just…”

“Five-hundred years and you still don’t have a clue, do you?”

Cathiir thought on that a moment, then had shaken his head. “She seems frustrated with me, Lady Aslyssa. She told me it bothered her that out of every party we attended, I rarely ever left with her. She told me she only went to those because of me, and felt as though I wanted to not be associated with her; that I saw her as lesser.”

“Do you,” Aslyssa drank from her glass, watching Cathiir not unlike a prophet might look at their prophecy unfolding before them. She knew his answer, and placed just enough emphasis on the question to make him believe she thought the same as Elodine.

Cathiir placed his glass down and leaned his elbow on his knees. It was a rather unlordly posture – though it was part of the charm of Cathiir. Or so he believed at times. “No! No, it isn’t, I– I just…”

Aslyssa laid a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. He looked over to her, eyes begging for some reason. Her hand drifted to his cheek. He gently slapped him, and had shaken her head in disappointment. “You’re a man, Cathiir. You have been for a while.”

“One thing you need to understand,” she continued after sipping from her glass and correcting her posture (and lingered on a thought how Cathiir’s own disorderly nature was, well, contagious) and raising her chin up at him. “You’re great at meeting her needs, Cathiir. Thing is, she wants this.”

He had to truly think on that for a length. It seemed far too simple for him to have not grasped in the first place. Though perhaps that was the very reason he had not grasped it in the first place; he forgot how many times others had told him he could be dense.

“Give her what she wants, Cathiir. Because if her want becomes a need, you could risk losing her.” She gestured her glass in his direction. “Mark my words, child.”

She drank from her glass, and let the words of wisdom set in. After a minute of silence and drinking between them, she had continued. “You’re not here for advice on romance, though, are you?”

Cathiir shrugged, laughed, then leaned back into his chair. “I might have – if I did, you gave me something to think on, my Lady.”

“Yet you aren’t kissing my hand and leaving,” she retorted with a wink.

He thought on how to word why exactly he came. He looked behind his chair, trying to see if any servants were around. It seemed to be just them in the room – no one else. He felt safe, but concerned that someone else could possibly hear them.

“It’s no one but us. Come now, what do you need off your chest?” She looked to her conjured constellation. She was not as easily lost in its rolling displays.

He seemed to say it with great reluctance to his tone. “Do I fight or wait for it all to blow over, my Lady?”

Aslyssa was unflinching. The question caught her off-guard, and she knew what the words meant. “I speak on your future and you want me to give you permission to fight.” She laid her glass down and flattened her attire. She looked over his face.

He had delicate features; it was common among shal'dorei, male or female. Delicate, but sharp. He was handsome, which gave in to a sort of illusion that he was actually born to the Arcanist Cadsrai; though most ended up shocked to know he was taken in as an orphan. There was no scar on him, and he kept himself shaven and clean as a lord does – unless trends call for otherwise, even then, it would be styled. It was not the sort of face that invoked thoughts of fear into enemies, it was not rugged or tough. It had not been hardened by grief or hate. Not like some among the Nightwatch who snatched those would not fight back in the dead of night as their children screamed, and had thrown them into the wilds to find their own source of mana and shelter.

Except those damnable eyes. They were full of every ounce of fight he had in him. It was the kind of stare that, if another was at the end of his blade, it did not matter how well he swung it, the gaze would stab deeper. He was just like her late husband – it was as if a god heard her pleas and sent this boy to live among the prominent. She would not dare call him haunting, until now. It was this moment she realized the weight of the similarities to the living and deceased. He was a snapshot of the moment she realized she could not keep her love from fighting a losing battle.

He exuded hope, though. She could not deny it. She wanted to tell him then and there the reason she was wordless was because Elodine came in with the same aura. She came in to see if her mentor, and adoptive mother would sign off on the risking of her own life. She laid a hand on his cheek, instead, and looked away. She did not want him to see her cry; she had done that with Elodine knowing it would appeal to her heart in such a way that whatever decision she made, she would come out alive.

If Cathiir saw her cry, she knew he would end up being dead in the streets, organizing resistance against the tyrants that held their city by chains. He would be written off as another good man fallen to a cause, simply a number and no longer a name. She had no idea how to tell him to stay in his manor, to mind his own business and wait for salvation to come. She did not want to tell him.

She did not want to be a hypocrite.

So instead, she looked to his face. She did not tell him what she wanted to say or what she did not want to say. She told him what was needed, all with the finesse of a soldier facing a battle with the numbers vastly out of their favor.

“Keep her safe.” Just as she had told Elodine.

Cathiir half expected her to beg him to not participate, but instead she replied dry-eyed and serious. She neither denied or accepted what rolled into his mind. Though somehow, it was enough. That’s why he wracked his brain for a good reason to fight all of this; to keep those he loved safe.

He moved a hand over Madame Aslyssa’s own on his face, removed it and had held it. He said in a voice that she could have sworn was one she had heard before, so familiar she nearly broke the illusion that her tears were not about to drain out of her eyes.

“Suramar will not fall again, my Lady.”

[viralhottopics]

The love at the heart of our familys wartime secret

When Margaret Esiri and Andrew Evanss mother died, they read her diary and unravelled a lifelong mystery

In April 1939, Doreen Bates presented Bill Evans, the man she had been seeing for six years, with a sheet of paper. It listed, in two neat columns, the pros and cons of having a baby together.

What made the list unusual was that Bill was married to someone else, and would remain so, until his death in 1974.

Amazingly, Bill agreed to Doreens plea to start a family. And, after the birth of twins in October 1941, he spent every other weekend and summer holidays with Doreen and the children.

His wife, told of the twins existence when they were four months old, agreed to the arrangements, insistent that they should know their father. She and Bill had no children her choice and she never met the twins.

After Doreens death, aged 87 in 1994, Margaret Esiri and Andrew Evans discovered the list among their mothers many papers, which also included detailed diaries from 1931. Now the twins have edited and published the story in Diary of a Wartime Affair.

We didnt know our parents were unmarried until they told us when we were 10, recalls Margaret. Doreen always wore a wedding band and called herself Mrs Evans. We were told our father worked away.

Doreen Bates in 1934.

The weekends he came were the best, partly because we felt like a normal family, says Andrew. He slotted in immediately. We were conscious our situation was different, and I think staff at the school knew, but it never really got out.

Like many other wartime babies, Margaret and Andrew had been born outside of marriage, yet Doreens pregnancy had been, less typically, a meticulously planned one.

After meeting in 1930 when they began sharing an office at the Inland Revenue in Paddington, London, Doreen and Bill known as E in the diary struck up an instant rapport over long discussions about favourite books. By late 1933, their relationship had developed into a romantic and physical one.

Oh, I would give so much to have children, and the right to love him, Doreen wrote on 15 December 1934 after an illicit weekend with E in Winchester and a resulting pregnancy scare.

He, for his part, told her: I wish you wouldnt talk about babies. You have made me want them, too.

That E, however much in love with Doreen, would not leave his wife K in the diaries was never hidden. He was, I think, very fond of her, says Margaret, and he felt very guilty. He had a terribly strong sense of duty towards her.

In September 1935, Doreen wrote of her wish that E would tell his wife about their affair, despite believing such a move would end it. He would keep K, though he might suffer, I know.

Racked with guilt, E did eventually confess his infidelity, going on to tell Doreen by letter in November 1937 that their affair must end.

Bill Evans in 1934.

The hiatus lasted just two months. My love for him just leapt up out of the careful wrappings I had tried to smother it in all these weeks, she wrote on 22 January, after an impassioned meeting at Waterloo station.

The couple found ways to spend more time together snatched trysts in the office, lunchtime picnics, theatre trips, and a philosophy lecture course.

They also began a series of night walks around the countryside of the south-east. On 27 May 1934, Doreen wrote of meeting E on a night train from Charing Cross to hike the hills around Horsley. On top of Black Heath we rested and watched the moon sink We were rather cold but we were close and finally we slept for half an hour, she recorded. May my memory remain fresh and unblurred. Hers was, she noted, a gossamer happiness.

I must reconcile myself to having no children and not being Es wife, Doreen wrote in January 1935, going on to write in her diary, later that year, a stirring, but never-delivered speech to him. You think I should soon get over it catch another man, marry, have babies and live happily ever after. That is a convenient picture Well its not true.

With time though, her stance changed, and increasingly she considered the possibility of single motherhood. By November 1936, one week into a pregnancy scare, she had decided she would not seek a termination. I should manage This feeling of certainty and acceptance is quite independent of E, whatever he may say, or do, or not do.

Though keenly aware of the potential problems, by April 1937 her desire to have my baby, pure and simple and his baby something of him I should have the right to love and look after and help, was overwhelming.

Doreen began to take practical steps towards motherhood. She visited her doctor (who was, perhaps surprisingly, encouraging), arranged for her sister to care for the baby should she die and told her mother a deeply religious widow who also depended on her daughter financially that she was considering adoption.

It had to be him, says Margaret of the idea that Doreen could try to find another partner. She was deeply committed to Bill and remained so all her life, but she wanted to do this whether he stayed around or not.

She was determined to bring him round, she continues. She went on and on and I suppose there was an element of him giving in. His mother, adds Andrew, was too honest to have ever tricked Bill into a baby.

Doreen also accepted his initial insistence that his wife must know first. But the diary reveals her growing frustration at Ks fragile health and Es subsequent continual stalling. He found it very difficult to tell her, says Margaret. She had become very anorexic when he had told her about the affair and he was very worried it would happen again.

By the time he finally agreed to Doreens request to go ahead without Ks knowledge in 1940 believing that war would make the arrangement easier the announcement that she was to be transferred to Belfast appeared finally to dash her dreams.

Then on 7 March 1941, the day before her departure after a secluded hike in Surrey, one of the loveliest days we have ever had Doreen discovered she was pregnant.

Everything somehow just dovetailed into place, says Andrew. The timing was critical. Once she had gone it would have been impossible and she was getting older [aged 35], she felt time was running out.

Still unsure of Es continuing involvement, Doreen eventually returned to London in August, where she set about making arrangements for the birth. She found her employers to be surprisingly broadminded about what they deemed an unfortunate accident (the notion that it could have been a deliberate decision was apparently unimaginable). She was offered a long period of paid sick leave and a job to return to if she could avoid scandal.

She was lucky. It was wartime, the usual conventions could be stepped around a little and she was good at her job. They needed her, says Margaret.

For Doreens mother, Rosa though she did go on to develop a loving relationship with her grandchildren the news was harder to accept. The shock was great and she was quite prostrate all the evening, Doreen wrote in her diary. She was only allowed to visit after dark and the arrival of an ambulance to transport her, in labour, to the nursing home, horrified her mother.

Even after we were born, with E coming every other week, Rosa never reconciled herself to him, that he had put Doreen in that shameful situation, says Margaret.

It was a sense of shame Andrew and Margaret believe their mother never felt. She was uninterested in conventions of social behaviour and an ordinary, respectable life, says Andrew.

Bills commitment, of which Doreen could never have been sure, became apparent quickly. E is very thrilled more doting than I should have thought possible, her diary records of his first visit to see the twins.

He helped install Doreen, the children and a nanny in a house in London. Bill visited regularly, establishing the semi-formal arrangement when the family settled in Surrey after the war.

We called him Bill. She was more of a constant, but we were always clear that he was our father, says Margaret.

Involved as he was, Bill never told the rest of his family about his children. They met an aunt and several other family members for the first time only after their fathers death.

From time to time, as a young girl, Margaret received gifts of ballet shoes from K (a ballet teacher), but occasional meetings between K and Doreens sister never succeeded in establishing the rapprochement the aunt hoped for.

Watching the children play one weekend, Doreens diary recorded, E announced that having children was the supreme human experience. It was, says Margaret, a moment of vindication. It was what she had sought to tell him all along.

The Diary of a Wartime Affair by Doreen Bates is published by Viking, 16.99. To order a copy for 14.44, go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call the Guardian Bookshop on 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min. p&p of 1.99.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2l3ui7Z

from The love at the heart of our familys wartime secret

[cielofics]

(Old) ICMSAR VIII

WARNING(S): OCC's, Parent!bashing, depressing!thoughts, suicidal!tendencies,

NOTES: "Japanese" "Italian" Thinking 'Tsuna's eye speak' [Written Text] -Ghost speak-

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Amano Akira does.

While Mukuro was dealing with things, Tsuna could be seen walking inside a dim room with 5 more people inside. When they saw him, they let a smirk take place on their faces.

"Now, let the show begin~"

"...I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be 'let the meeting begin' not the show, Tsuna-san," said a red-haired teenage boy while pushing his glasses upwards.

.

.

.

"Mou, ________-kun, you shouldn't ruin my mood like that ~" he said quietly.

Everyone in the room noticed this and narrowed their eyes.

"...Is it hurting again?" asked ________. Tsuna merely nodded before looking at his allies.

"We're... missing... two?" he asked brokenly.

"First of all stop speaking Tsuna-kun," said another red haired with a bandage on his nose. "Don't strain your throat further. Besides, we're here," ____ said entering with a blond teenage with a lollipop in his mouth.

Tsuna merely sighed and giggled at his friends over-protectiveness. "Let's start the meeting already, Tsuna-san," ________-kun replied while clutching his stomach.

Everybody else smirked when they saw Tsuna smirking. After all, it was time for the main show to start.

...XX. Meanwhile .XX...

Reborn was shocked was an understatement. For the first time, he has plainly shown his emotions like this. In the beginning, the enigma twin brother was a mystery who needed to be solved but now? It seems his list of investigating is growing every second.

After all, seeing the first generation of the Vongola Famiglia standing right next to the young teens that look like them is surprising. Every first generation was there except the boss, Giotto Vongola.

He looked around and saw that Takeshi, Lambo, and Gokudera were still unconscious. At times, they would frown, other they would smile. Sometimes, they would be expressionless.

Nobody spoke in the silence that followed. Reborn being Reborn demanded, "Explain."

Mukuro raised an eyebrow, "Oya Oya, it seems that the Arcobaleno is demanding answers."

Reborn scowled, "What are you doing here, Rokudo Mukuro? You should be in Vindice."

Mukuro chuckled eerily, "Right now, it does not matters. The question is why aren't you getting your memories?"

"What are you talking about?"

-Nufufu, maybe it's because he isn't a Vongola Guardian?-

Reborn fired a shot. This was getting annoying and he did not know what they were talking about. And he hates not knowing!

"I'll ask again, what are you talking about?" he said releasing a bit of KI.

XX..XX

...[With Tsuna and the rest]...

Everybody was in the middle of discussing when a strong KI interrupted their conversation.

'It seems Reborn is getting frustrated,' Tsuna conveyed to everyone

"frustrated? Why? Shouldn't he be getting his memories at this moment?" ________ asked.

Tsuna chuckled, 'He's not a Guardian so he wouldn't just get his memories like that. Besides, I asked Byakuran not to. It will be too much of a hassle since he knows me so well.'

Everyone made a "O" face.

"Then what would happen?" ____ asked.

'Well, if he hasn't gotten his memories then my guardians will do what I asked them do: to not tell him anything.'

"What do you mean you told them? They don't know that you already have your memories with you," ________ asked

'Before leaving that world, I left a note as if I was following my hyper intuition. That note said that in the case that everyone forgets about me or something. Do not tell anyone else about it until after asking me. Who knows, it can mean something.'

"That's a bit clever... but will they listen?" ____ asked

'Of course! They won't do anything that will cross me!'

"Whatever, let's get on with the meeting, trash," ______ said.

XX..XX

...[Back to Reborn & co]...

"Do not make me repeat myself. What are you talking about?"

Mukuro sighed and glanced at Chrome. Chrome understanding what Mukuro wanted, went up to the Sun Arcobaleno and squat down to his eye level, "Reborn-san, I'm sorry but you will have to wait until our Sky arrives."

"You mean to say, you already revealed yourselves to me, talked around me about something very important and now you say I have who knows how long, to know the answers?"

Chrome sweat-dropped, "Y-Yes."

The KI just increased tenfold. The first generation, in the mean time, was watching the interaction with amused eyes. But they were also thinking about what went wrong that the Sun Arcobaleno could not remember. This could pose a problem in the future.

"Stop playing with me!" Reborn said while shooting another shot. Chrome and Ryohei flinched, Mukuro and Hibari narrowed his eyes. The first generation took this as a cue to leave. They did not want to be involved in this.

"Why were the first generation here in the first place if they were to only spectate?!"

Silence.

"Listen, I want answers now."

Before anyone could say anything else, the door opened and a brunet came to life.  Said brunet just blinked at the situation before smiling. 'Ah, I came to inform you guys that lunch is ready!'

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees Celsius.

"We'll be there in a few minutes, Mama," Reborn said through gritted teeth. What a time to interrupt!

Tsuna merely nodded and left. Not bothering to ask why whatever happened was happening.

"Now, explain," Reborn demanded.

Mukuro sighed, "Kufufu, Sun Arcobaleno listen closely. You are free to investigate about us but for the moment, we ourselves need answers in order to fully comprehend our situation. Once we get our answers, we will tell you but for the moment, we can't."

Reborn narrowed his eyes, "Fine.... who is your sky?"

This time Hibari spoke up, "Hmph, an omnivore who does not remembers us at the moment."

"Amnesia?"

"Something like that. But I will say this: Our Sky is strong and we are waiting for his arrival," said Mukuro, while chuckling eerily.

Reborn pondered for a bit as to who could be their sky. He had someone in his mind that was prominent but... it can't be right?

"One more thing," Reborn looked up, "we are only loyal to our Sky, no one else."

".... Is it Sawada Tsunayoshi?"

Mukuro merely chuckled, Chrome smiled faintly, Ryohei pumped his fist in the air, Hibari smirked, "Who knows." They said together. Reborn only lowered his fedora downwards. He was unsatisfied with their answer but the way they said it, can only mean he's right.

Now, another puzzle was added in solving the puzzle known as Sawada Tsunayoshi.  

XX..XX

...[With Gokudera, Takeshi, and Lambo/ Reborn left with Tsuna back at home. Ienari training with dogs outside]...

"Ugh, my head hurts," mumbled Gokudera waking up. He looked around before noticing that the baseball freak and the stupid cow was in a similar position like him.

"Oya, you're awake?" came a familiar voice.

Gokudera furrowed his eyebrows, "...Mukuro?"

"Kufufu, it seems it was a success," Mukuro replied.

"Success?" asked Takeshi after waking up.

"Regaining your memories that is," this time a girl's voice answered them.

"Chrome/nee!" Takeshi and Lambo exclaimed.

"What's going on?" Gokudera demanded.

"Well, are you can see, you got your memor-" Mukuro was cut off.

"I was talking about the message that was left to us," Gokudera growled at Mukuro for stating the obvious.

"We don't know to the EXTREME either!" exclaimed Ryohei this time.

"What do you mean?"

"Kufufu, just what he said, we haven't been able to decode it completely yet," Mukuro said

Everybody was silent. Recalling the words said to them in the end,

'Life has ended once but will shine once again once gathered. Two Skies present. One living in the shadows, blissfully unaware, while the other shrouded in darkness. While one suffers, the other takes the others place. However, when the rightful sky is on the verge of being broken, the elements will arrive but remain ignorant. Until the end is near. Time is running... Hurry and help... The balance is crumbling...... After all, the Sky can only carry so much until it breaks.'

"We can certainly tell that something is not right but what is causing the imbalance is uncertain," said Mukuro seriously.

Hibari spoke up this time, "We can assume that that two skies they are talking about are Omnivore and his herbivorous brother but...."

"What is it Skylark?" asked Gokudera

"...'when the rightful sky is on the verge of being broken,' what does that mean?" Chrome completed for him  

.

.

.

"It can't be.. that Tsuna is...?" asked Yamamoto a bit scared for his friend that saved him many times.

"It can't be, baseball-freak!" exclaimed Gokudera but even he was fidgeting nervously. As a matter of fact, everyone was including Mukuro and Hibari. Over the years, both had changed.

Mukuro had become more accepting of Tsunayoshi and showed more care towards him and his friends/comrades. Tsunayoshi was his light and ray of hope. If something happened to him, then Mukuro can be sure that he wouldn't be able to control his insanity. After all, Tsunayoshi is his chain that is controlling him completely and at the same time, is not.

Hibari himself had acknowledged Tsunayoshi's presence and anybody that brought harm to him would be dealt by him. He had shown Hibari the difference between liking to be alone and being alone. Not to mention, he accepted him as he was. Just like Mukuro, Hibari's reason for remaining as he is, is only because of Tsunayoshi. He, who holds complete power over him yet let's him do what he wants until a certain point.  

While they were thinking of what was wrong, Chrome interjected something. "Reborn-san doesn't remembers anything."

Gokudera, Lambo and Takeshi narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

After explaining what happened, everyone could only look at each other. Things were not going as planned.

"Ah that's right, how did you guys remember?" Takeshi asked the four that already remembered them.

Mukuro and Hibari smirked while Chrome smiled shyly. Ryohei pumped his fists in the air yelling, "EXTREME!"

"I EXTREMELY GOT THEM WHEN MUKURO EXTREMELY ARRIVED!"

"Hn. Same."

"H-Hai, Mukuro-sama was the reason."

Everyone turned towards Mukuro who laughing his eerie laugh

"I received my memories thanks to Daemon Spade," Mukuro said while counting down in his head.

3.

.

2.

.

1.

.

"WHAT?!" Gokudera, Lambo, Takeshi, and Ryohei exclaimed. "THAT DAEMON SPADE?!"

"Kufufu, yes"

"How?" asked Hibari who was standing far away from the crowd.

"Kufufu, while in Vindice. He gave me my VG (Vongola Gear) that helped me recall my memories. He also left me the others VG's with me. After receiving my memories, I found a better reason to escape and so I did. First, I went for my dear Chrome and returned her memories to her too. It seems that Mist Flames are required to activate the memories though."

Everyone was listening carefully. "That's when I went in search for our Sky and I found him in charge of Nebesa. Then I pulled some strings here and there to get the Skylark and Turf-top to remember."

Silence reigned the room. Everyone was processing this information before Mukuro broke it again. "You three do realize that you are wearing your VG's or is somehow in your possession right?" This question was directed at Takeshi, Lambo, and Gokudera.

The three glanced and indeed their VG's were there.

"Yare Yare, now that this is done.... what should we do about Tsuna-nii?" asked Lambo out of boredom.

"...Bossu already has his VG... but he doesn't...." Chrome said quietly but everyone heard.

"So his VG is not the key to his memories?" Takeshi said

"WHAT ABOUT THE VONGOLA RING TO THE EXTREME?!"

That's when everyone blinked. "Maybe, that is the key?" said Gokudera hesitantly.

"Yare, Yare, don't you think that his VG is the key to his memories but is just fooling us?"

Everyone looked at each before saying, "Naah. Not possible."

"Kufufu, we know Tsunayoshi-kun like the back of our hand, we'll know when he's trying to pull a prank on us," Mukuro said. (A/N: Are you sure??)

"That's right! Tsuna won't lie to us! We're his family after all," Takeshi said while laughing.

"Hn."

"EXTREME!"

"Y-Yes."

"Yare Yare, guess you are right."

"That's right, Jyuudaime won't lie to us!" (A/N: Oh how wrong they are XD)

XX..XX

...[Tsunayoshi and Reborn together]...

While the guardians were reminiscing about their past, Tsunayoshi was on his computer he had gotten as present from his mother before she started ignoring him. While Reborn was perched on Tsuna's head, looking over at what Tsuna was doing.  

"Tsuna?"

'Hai?'

"Did you know about the Mafia before I came?"

Tsuna stopped typing. Instead, he placed Reborn on his lap, looking at him directly. 'Yes, I do.'

"How?"

'...I've been attacked before by Mafioso...'

Reborn was surprised. His reports did not say anything about him being attacked. "Attacked?" Tsuna nodded his head in approval. "What happened to them?"

'They would not cause trouble ever again.'

Reborn clutched his fedora tightly. "When did it start?"

'When I was 8. Nebesa was partially made for this reason you know?'

"So now, they protect you?"

A nod.

"Did you find out who was the sender and why they attacked you?"

Tsuna tensed. Reborn looked at him questionably. 'I do.'

"Who was it?"

'I'm sorry Reborn, I can't tell you but I can give you a hint: He's someone who you know well. Also, please promise me you won't tell this to anyone?'

"Fine, I promise.."

Ping¬

Tsuna's computer made a noise. A noise that showed that he had a message. Reborn and Tsuna looked at each other before checking what it was.  

Checking what it was, both the partners-in-crime froze at the message in front of them. One tensed while the other let out profanities. Both of them did not want to deal with this. Obviously, both had different reasons.

"Tsuna, put away anything that can reveal our playtime activity."

Tsuna merely nodded and went to work. Hiding things he didn't need anyone to find. Especially the person that was about to come... He didn't have any relationship with the one coming over and was the cause of most of his problems.

That's why he didn't need to do anything that can give away anything.

Why?

-.-Iemitsu was coming home-.-