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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years

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Writing Commission - My Hero Academia - curiosity killed me my dear (but you brought me back)

Author’s Comment: Hello! This story is brought to you through the writing commissions I have opened up which allows you to see that prompt you’ve been holding onto finally written! All the information can be found over on my tumblr at ibelieveinahappilyeverafter under my Writing Commissions page! Before you do that, though, enjoy the story!

Given Prompt: I would like to commission an expansion on Curiosity Killed Me Dear (But You Brought Me Back) that you wrote in your Patreon Account. … I would like to keep it day-to-day slice of life feel of the fic, essentially the same premise as the suggestion that inspired the short story. I really would like to marinate in what it would like to live with a change like that and how Hizashi and Shouta adapts. Exploring the pros, cons, odd parts, and fun parts with suddenly being half cat with the instincts. Keep it to Hizashi and Shouta POV.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Characters: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi, Eri

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 18,155

Transaction Amount: $40 (USD)

Archive Of Our Own Link

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★★★

curiosity killed me my dear (but you brought me back)

★★★

((Please be careful clicking Read More Now as this is an 18k story.))

“Eraserhead, Present Mic, report.” The words, tinged with the static that always came with calls, burst over the earpiece Shouta had in, disrupting his attempts to count the number of people in the warehouse they were watching by sound alone. “Have you managed to get a rough estimate of how many?” Luckily for him, he had a partner who specialized in sound.

“Hey, now, c’mon, yo! Never doubt the teamwork of Eraserhead and Present Mic!” Hizashi near cackled into his mic, voice boisterous and full of energy even with how quiet he managed to keep himself; something that made Shouta feel as impressed as he did exasperated as he rolled his eyes. “We’ve got sixteen heads in sight and… what? Six down below?”

Taking a moment to enjoy the familiar pressure and warmth as Hizashi leaned against him, Shouta shifted and braced himself against Hizashi, one hand resting on the man’s shoulder as he took another peak into the warehouse. They were hidden up on a fire escape that had seen better years, pressed as close against the warehouse wall as they could get to avoid detection. No one had noticed them yet, but Shouta wasn’t certain that would last for much longer.

“Seven,” Shouta respond to both Hizashi and the rest of their team on standby. He could feel Hizashi’s little wiggle under his hands and knew the man was thinking something along the lines of, Look at how smart my husband is! “Altogether we have twenty-three, as reported, with an estimated dozen children in whatever cellar they managed to carve out. Midnight on standby?”

“She arrived a few minutes ago and is ready to proceed at the signal. Are you two in position to move?”

Shifting to look down at his husband, Shouta gave him a small nudge to get his attention, waiting until he was sure his eyes had adjusted before his hands were signing out a quick, ‘Ready?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’ Hizashi signed back, stealing a soft kiss from Shouta before he was sitting back and winking. ‘Want a distraction before you go in?’

Shouta didn’t have to answer, Hizashi already working at the window they had been leaning against, pushing it up softly enough to not be heard by anyone down below. Shouta leaned back, tapping at his earpiece, mumbling out a soft, “Going in.”

As soon as the words were out, he was slipping through the window and taking to the rafters as silently as he could get away with, scanning the crowd below him. There were only a couple of mutation quirks with the majority seeming to be emitter - something that would be all the better for him. Seeing a flash of blond hair and black leather, Shouta smirked as he lowered his goggles to cover his eyes.

It wasn’t often that he and his husband were able to work together, considering that Shouta was an underground hero and Hizashi was the very definition of a media hero, but there were some cases where their teamwork and ability to communicate and adapt were necessary - although Shouta would like to work on a case with his husband that wasn’t human trafficking for once.

The warehouse they were in had been marked as a villain hideout for weeks, now, but they had only realized it was part of a smuggling ring a few nights ago when they had managed to grab proof. It shouldn’t be surprising that human trafficking was still alive and well so far into human history, especially with the rise of quirks, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless.

Children with promising quirks had long been sought after, captured, bought, and sold off to those who had use of them.

His thoughts were disrupted by his earpiece again, Hizashi’s voice ringing out even as he managed to stay quiet enough for no one in the warehouse to hear him as he crept along the warehouse catwalk. “I don’t know about you all down there, but I think this place is just a little too quiet for my tastes.”

As he talked, Shouta studied the space they were in. Depending on where Hizashi started his attack, Shouta would either be in perfect position to help fight back, or to get the kids out of there before they brought Midnight in. More than one of them were worried about the kids being used as a shield.

“For starters, though, I don’t think I want anyone to miss out on hearing tonight’s show! So, then! Why don’t we get this party started!” Hizashi’s loud voice echoed throughout the warehouse, Shouta hiding a smile against the bands of his binding cloth before he was pushing himself forward and was on the move. If Hizashi was trying to get the attention of everyone in the warehouse, that meant he was trusting Shouta to get the kids out first.

“Hey, hey! I know you all are some rabid fans, but I think it would be a little polite if you backed off!” The last two works were filled with Hizashi’s quirk, pure sound blasting across the room and sending a few of the unprepared ones to their knees. Shouta, already used to sudden loud noises in battle, winced minimally before using the moment to wrap some bands around a metal pillar and swing himself down towards the backroom where the door was ajar.

A quick count showed everyone in the warehouse was now charging at Hizashi or getting ready to. If this was at the start of their career then Shouta would have been worried, but as it was, he ducked into the room and pressed his back against the wall, a high-pitched whistle shooting through the room and knocking out everyone’s balance besides his and Hizashi’s.

“Remind me to thank support for these new earpieces managing to block out you,” Shouta mumbled loud enough to be picked up by the comms as he tapped them to activate, grinning when he heard Hizashi’s bright laughter followed by a cheerful shout, the second part of his attack that was crowd focused. By now everyone was either on the floor or, if they were lucky, unconscious - which meant Shouta wasted no time in closing the door and looking to were rough stairs were carved down into the ground. “Heads up, we have someone with an earth shifting quirk.”

Grabbing a flashlight from his belt, Shouta quickly edged his way down the stairs, lighting up the area to see that it was filled with terrified children that ranged in ages, but couldn’t be older than ten or eleven. The younger ones had been shoved to the back and the older ones were staring at him with wide, scared eyes even as they looked ready to fight. It was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking.

Tapping his earpiece, Shouta spoke quickly. “I have sight of the children. Eighteen of them in an underground space carved out under the warehouse. More than we thought.” They thought there had only been a dozen, but apparently the villains upstairs had been busy. It was nice to hear Hizashi’s screams get louder. “Show of hands, who here knows about Present Mic?”

While the older kids shared looks and kept glaring at him, the younger ones raised their hands, one girl looking excited and near jumping up and down as she raised her hand in the air as high as possible. Shouta couldn’t stop at least a small smile, keeping his voice soft, “Then you know about his quirk, Voice. All that screaming upstairs? That’s him. Him, me, and some other heroes are all here to help get you home.”

“Prove it.” The child who seemed to be the oldest spoke up, taking a step forward and looking ready to fight for the others. “I know pro heroes and you don’t look like any hero I know!”

“Hey, yo, Eraserhead, what’s it lookin’ like down there? Cause I dunno about you, but I’d rather not collapse the warehouse on a bunch of kids.”

“Hang on,” Shouta responded before pulling down his goggles and digging out his hero license, holding it out to the kid in front of him and waiting patiently for him to creep close enough to read it by the light of the flashlight. “I’m an underground hero, see? I also teach at U.A. in the Heroics course.”

“Oh! You’re the Mummy Man from the Sports Festival!” A little four or five-year-old shouted, running over to him and latching onto him before Shouta could respond. She no doubt had only just received her quirk judging by how young she was. “Do you fight with bandages?” Little hands tugged at one of the bands of his cloth, Shouta trying his hardest not to snort as he put his license away.

“Something like that. We good?” Shouta asked, looking back to the eldest, who gave a quick nod of his head. Giving a nod of his own, Shouta tapped at his earpiece. “We’re good. Beginning to escort them out, now. We’re in a room pressed against the back of the warehouse on the northwest corner. Make us an exit.”

“Understood. Present Mic, backup will arrive as soon as the children are clear of the building.” Unsettling, but necessary. Better to let the traffickers think there was only one pro there. “Eraserhead, we’re en route to your location.”

“Roger. Alright, you lot, let’s go.” Shouta quickly stood and began ushering the children out and up the stairs, keeping an eye on the door that led back to the rest of the warehouse even as one of the pros began tearing down the outside wall of the warehouse like it was paper. He was new to the scene, but he was popular enough to have children flocking towards him at once in trust.

“We’re almost done, Mic,” Shouta said over the comms, ducking back down into the cavern to make sure all the children had climbed out. “Hang on just another minute or two-”

“Thank you, Mummy Man!” Shouta blinked as the little girl, the youngest of the lot, waved at him as she was the last to be led away.

“Did I just hear a little kid call you Mummy Man?” Hizashi sounded absolutely delighted and Shouta huffed to cover up his laugh.

“Just focus on the fight. How many left?”

“Twelve left in fighting condition- Yo, fuckin’ watch where you throw those things you ninja rip off piece of shit!” Another slew of swears burst out over the comms and Shouta was mildly glad that this was an undercover mission instead of Hizashi’s usual city fights that always made the news. There was a reason Hizashi’s shows were usually late at night. “Eleven left.”

“Backup is on the way in. Let’s take this lot down.” Shouta pulled his goggles back up and crept back into the main part of the warehouse, taking stock of the situation quickly. A quick twist of his bands snagged one of the eleven left who had been looking at Hizashi and left him immobile, Shouta activating his quirk and watching the panic in the man’s eyes before Shouta was pulling him in and rendering him unconscious with a quick punch to the face.

“Ten left,” Shouta said over the comms, purely to hear Hizashi’s bright laugh. Looking back to the others, who hadn’t even noticed one of their allies going down, Shouta smirked and readied his weapon again. There were definitely benefits to working with a media hero who took up all the attention in the room.

The arrival of the other heroes served to wrap up the fight even quicker, Shouta taking down another one before glancing over to see that pros were quickly restraining the traffickers with cuffs and bands, Nemuri moving between them to knock them out with a dose of her gas.

Overall the warehouse raid was a success, Shouta letting himself relax when he failed to spot anymore stray quirks or fighting. Hizashi seemed to come to the same conclusion the fight was over, waving at Shouta from across the room with a loud shout. “Eraser! Let’s go get something to eat after this!”

Tapping his earpiece, because Shouta was not in the mood for shouting across a warehouse teeming with activity, Shouta rolled his eyes with a soft, “We have paperwork, after this.” The pout was easy to see even from across the room. “We’ll do takeout.” There were a few stray laughs considering they were on comms so everyone could hear, but Hizashi’s smile was worth the embarrassment.

“Alright!” Hizashi started to shout something else over to him, but the words faded into a low buzzing in the back of his head as Shouta saw a flash of movement over Hizashi’s shoulder. He took a second too long to identify what it was before Hizashi was screaming not with his quirk, but with pain, dropping to the floor as if he was a puppet with broken strings.

“Hizashi!” The cry came from him and Nemuri both, Shouta’s eyes locking onto a man that had a hand pressed against Hizashi’s back and was grinning far too smugly. The count had been wrong - their information had been wrong because there was no physical description that matched the man in front of them which meant they didn’t know what his quirk could do. That didn’t mean Shouta couldn’t stop it, though.

The burning in his eyes began the moment his quirk activated, the man stumbling back and looking off balance before his eyes widened. Shouta made sure he didn’t have time to recover before his binding cloth was wrapping around him, dragging him to the ground even as he shouted at Nemuri, “Knock him out, now!”

A burst of Nemuri’s sleeping gas and the man was going limp within the binding cloth, Shouta taking only a moment to make sure there was no more movement besides breathing before he was untangling himself and running to Hizashi’s side, bending down and aching to touch, but resisting only just. “Hizashi? Hizashi, c’mon, Sunshine, look at me. What’s wrong?”

There was a soft mumble; a sound far too soft for someone as loud and bright as Hizashi. Shouta didn’t have too long to panic, however, before Hizashi’s voice croaked out a quiet, “Bad. Worse than the hangover after our third anniversary.”

Feeling tension drain out of him at the teasing tone, Shouta only let his sigh shake before he was carefully helping Hizashi out of his curled-up position and onto his side so he could start to sit up. Instead of relief at seeing his husband was okay, though, Shouta felt his heart almost stutter to a stop, burning and dryness of his eyes near forgotten as he stared at Hizashi.

“Damn, that fuckin’ hurt,” Hizashi grumbled, pushing himself up weakly before Shouta watched him pause, looking at him with a frown before he was reaching up slowly and tugging down Shouta’s goggles that he had forgotten about. “Shou? I don’t like that look. What’s wrong?”

“Shouta? Is Hizashi… Oh.” Nemuri trailed off and stared, Shouta watching Hizashi look confused before he swayed, Shouta’s reflexes reacting at once to catch him the moment he dropped. “Hey! We need medical over here! And ID this one’s quirk, now!”

As Nemuri shouted for assistance, Shouta wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as he stared down at where Yamada-Aizawa Hizashi, collapsed in his arms, had what was clearly cat ears the color of his hair with a tail to match, ears collapsed backwards against his skull in what was pain or agitation while the tail lashed through the air, Hizashi groaning out a soft, “No take out, then?”

“No,” Shouta responded, slowly moving to sit on the floor himself. “I don’t think the hospital is gonna allow me to bring in take out.” Hizashi’s groan seemed to sum up the situation perfectly. “Don’t worry. You’ll be alright.”

Even as he said the words, Shouta swallowed as he felt Hizashi collapse more against him, no doubt passing out from a mix of the hard fight and the pain of whatever the quirk he was hit with had done to him. It was no doubt temporary, but… Shouta had a bad feeling.

Thankfully it didn’t take them long to get to the nearest hospital and, since Hizashi was a pro hero injured while on duty, he was seen as soon as a doctor was available. All in all, it took less than an hour since check in for Hizashi to be seen, looked over, and for the specifics of the quirk to arrive.

Animal Morph. The police had ID’d the man not long after they had arrived at the hospital and the quirk was a powerful one, in its own right. It was a morphing quirk that forced the person’s body to revert into the species of the last animal they had come into contact with and with Hizashi that meant their pet cats at home that had been sleeping on him before they got the call that the raid was about to begin.

The dangerous part of the quirk, Shouta had found out, was that all changes, complete or otherwise, were permanent. The reason Hizashi was only halfway shifted and not an actual cat was because Shouta had interrupted the process halfway through with his own quirk. It could have been a blessing, but it also meant that Hizashi was now stuck in a body that in no way could feel like his.

Shouta could tell that Hizashi was anxious and overwhelmed by the news and his now empty hospital room in the way he was playing with his hair, long ago fallen out of his ‘Present Mic style’ and hanging around him in ruffled, knotted waves. A quick pat down and Shouta managed to dig his phone out, flipping to one of Hizashi’s more favored songs that he often played when needing something to focus on besides whatever was running around in his head. Shouta heard a shaking breath slip out of Hizashi as he set the phone down, but a glance up showed that he at least no longer looked ready to fall apart.

“You know,” Hizashi finally managed, trying to be cheerful. “I thought you would be more excited by this.” Looking up at Hizashi properly, Shouta tried to figure out how the hell Hizashi could be so calm in a situation like this. “C’mon, Shou-chan, am I not a good enough kitty for you?”

“Is this really the time to be making jokes?” Shouta muttered, trying to focus on his anger at the situation rather than the worry and fear he could already feel clawing at him.

“Are you kidding? This is the best time for jokes! Hey, you think the Wild, Wild Pussycats will ask me to be a part of their group, now? Because I’ll have you know that Sosaki-san wanted me to join when we were all still in school! She said I would look cute with the ears, which, now we have proof that I do, but I turned her down because, hello, if I’m going to be part of a hero group it would be with you, Nemuri, and Tensei, yo. Hey! What if we formed a duo? I mean, I know you shot me down, like, twenty times before, but I really think-”

Listening to Hizashi ramble and ramble and ramble like he always did when he was scared, Shouta finally snapped out a desperate, “Hizashi.” Pretending like this was all okay was only going to make it hurt worse later.

Instead of responding properly, Hizashi instead shifted on the hospital bed until he was sitting on the side and freeing up space, looking at Shouta with hopeful eyes. They had been confined to hospital beds enough times over their careers that Shouta didn’t even hesitate, instead climbing into Hizashi’s bed and too afraid to touch him and cause any unexpected pain. At least one of the doctors had mentioned an increase in sensitivity.

“You, my hero, take the blame for things that aren’t your fault far too much,” Hizashi said softly, a tired smile on his face as if he didn’t realize this was all Shouta’s fault. “Shouta… I would be a lot worse off right now if you hadn’t stopped that quirk when you did.”

“It’s because of me that you’re half cat.” Shouta didn’t shout, but it was a close thing. As it was, he could only stare up at where Hizashi’s ears were now cat ears, furry, pointed, and on the top of his head. The tail to match was curled around Hizashi’s waist as if even he didn’t know how his body language screamed scared.

It was in the way the tail curled closer, the ears folded back for a few moments, and Hizashi began tugging at his hair again, picking out another knot that no doubt wasn’t even there. It felt like an eternity before Hizashi looked back at him.

“Shouta,” Hizashi said softly - so softly. Shouta couldn’t have stopped himself from looking away if he had tried. “Shouta. This is not your fault. Our information was wrong. It was as simple as that.”

Ready to argue because this actually was his fault this time, Shouta instead snapped his mouth shut as Hizashi’s palms lightly slapped against his cheeks, forcing him to hold still and making him unable to properly look away as Hizashi continued, “No. You’re the one who’s always saying how much of a ‘genius’ or whatever I am, right? With the information we were given and the measures we took, we did everything right, Shouta. I’ve run over everything in my head a hundred times since I got pretty much shackled to this bed-”

“You are not shackled to the bed, Hizashi,” Shouta interrupted, Hizashi just raising his voice to compensate.

“Since I was spiritually chained to this bed!” Ah, his ridiculous husband… “There were only two ways this could end, Shouta, and I think I prefer the option where I’m not stuck as a complete cat.”

Shouta was silent, finally mumbling what had been playing on repeat in his head since they had arrived, “I should have reacted quicker. If I had, then you wouldn’t be here like this.”

“You did everything right, baby,” Hizashi sighed, tugging Shouta closer and bracing their foreheads together, Shouta relaxing at the touch and moving to tangle his fingers with Hizashi’s, earning a gentle squeeze back. “Now, really, you’re allowed to show a bit of excitement about this.”

“I’m not obsessed with cats like you seem to think I am,” Shouta scoffed, pulling back after a few more moments of enjoying the contact. He shifted a little to get more comfortable, trying not to admit that he might have been studying the cat ears just a little.

“Mhm,” Hizashi hummed, completely disbelieving as the song Shouta had turned on finally ended. Reaching over, Shouta grabbed the phone, flicking through until he started the playlist that Hizashi had been favoring at home lately. “You can touch them, you know.”

It took a moment to realize what Hizashi meant, but when he did, Shouta felt his fingers twitch just enough to give him away. “Hizashi-”

“Please?” Hizashi asked quietly, looking away when he saw Shouta’s surprise. “I just… really need you to act like everything is normal right now, Sho.”

Hizashi, still looking away, sat perfectly still and silent. It was a look that didn’t suit him and Shouta was moving before he could even fully think it through, reaching a hand up and lightly skimming his fingers down the edge of one of the ears, grinning at the soft, sleek fur that rubbed back against his fingers. He repeated the motion a couple of times before he noticed something that almost had him laughing.

“Are you… purring?” Shouta asked, Hizashi finally tilting his head to look back at him. Shouta couldn’t stop a grin as he rubbed a bit harder. “As if the cats needed any more reason to love you more than me.”

“It’s because I feed them the good cat food!” Hizashi laughed, Shouta feeling something inside him finally start to uncoil. There was no doubt that things would be difficult for a while, but at least they would be okay.

It took until evening the next day, but Hizashi was finally released from the hospital and the two were able to make it home with a slew of aftercare instructions and checkup appointments and the knowledge that Hizashi had been given a week off from not only his pro hero work, but also his teaching and the radio station. It didn’t take much to tell that Hizashi was aggravated at the fussing and Shouta had no doubt that forced leave from all three of his jobs was driving him crazy.

“I’ll be fine, Shouta!” Which is how they made it to where Hizashi was trying to reassure Shouta who was very seriously debating calling in sick for his usual night patrol that he was supposed to leave for; soon. “I’m safe at home with doctor issued pain meds if anything gets too overwhelming!”

“Right.” Shouta looked to where Hizashi’s tail was lashing through the air and his ears were pressed back against his head. His entire posture was tense and it was years of knowing Hizashi, and years of knowing cats, that made it easy to see Hizashi was reaching his tolerance limit. “Hizashi.”

Hizashi twitched before some of the tension leaked out of him, the man shuffling forward and dropping his head so it was resting on Shouta’s shoulder. Shouta was wrapping his arms around him at once, frowning at Hizashi’s shudder before he remembered the increased sensitivity.

“If you need time to yourself to adjust then that’s fine,” Shouta finally said quietly, running a hand through Hizashi’s hair. “You don’t need to lie to me and say you’re alright.” Whatever remaining tension was left seemed to drain out of Hizashi, the man near collapsed completely against him as Shouta held him just like always; just like he always would. “Don’t overdo it with whatever you’re planning.”

There was a muffled snort and Shouta gave a pleasant shiver as he felt lips pressed against the edge of his jaw. “I’ll take it easy,” Hizashi said softly. “I just want to do a few tests of my own to see what changed.” Hizashi pulled back, staring at Shouta before leaning in to give him a soft kiss, Shouta feeling some of his own worries and tension drain out. “Go on then, hero.”

“I’ll be back at my usual,” Shouta said, pulling Hizashi back in for another kiss that turned deeper with just the slightest tilt of his head, smothering Hizashi’s worries and complaints until the man was giving a soft whimper that had Shouta pulling back before he could forget that he really did have a patrol to do. “I’ll be back.”

“You had better,” Hizashi mumbled, giving him a fleeting kiss before pulling out of his arms, some of his unease soothed away to show a softer smile. “I’ll be okay, hero. I have something to keep me busy, after all.”

If nothing else, Shouta supposed, at least he knew that Hizashi would see this condition as a new project. He just really hoped Hizashi didn’t get carried away with any of his ‘tests.’

★★★

It took two minutes before Shouta was out of hearing range. It took two minutes and three seconds before Hizashi punched the wall of their living room with more force than he should have, a shaking breath hissed out through his clenched teeth as he stared at the spiderweb cracks that spread out from the impact. His knuckles were already burning and red and Hizashi could only hope that Shouta wouldn’t ask when he noticed later.

“Right,” Hizashi mumbled to himself, feeling how his ears twitched at the sound of his voice. He knew his voice hadn’t changed, a small mercy, but the sound was different to him in a way that he couldn’t yet explain. It didn’t help that even more noises were layered overtop the sound of his not-quite-changed-but-might-as-well-have-changed voice.

There was the sound of ticking antique clocks that were just a step out of tune with each other, there was the drip-drip-drip of the faucet from the bathroom, and there was a sharp, vibrating buzz of electricity zipping through the wall. If it was even just one of those sounds then maybe he could have adjusted and been alright, but there was just so much.

Sucking in a slow breath, Hizashi absently rubbed his sore knuckles as he took a moment to center himself. He knew it hadn’t done much, but it was the thought that counted. He hoped.

“Right,” Hizashi repeated to himself again, forcing a smile on his face as he saw Snowball, their largest and friendliest cat, wander into the room curiously. “I guess we can check off improved hearing on my list of things to test, huh?”

Snowball’s meow was a near screech as always, Hizashi snorting and bending down to scratch the silly thing behind the ears. “At least now I know why you like this so much,” Hizashi teased, laughing as Snowball purred like an engine before flopping over and looking up at him cutely. “I don’t suppose I changed enough to understand you or you understand me?”

There was a moment where Hizashi was well and truly hopeful that his cat was about to whisper some secret on how he truly felt about him, but then the screeching meows returned and Hizashi didn’t need to speak cat to know Snowball was asking for more scratches.

“Check that one off the list, too, then,” Hizashi snorted, giving Snowball one last scratch before standing up and nervously dusting himself off. “Right. Time to get to work, then.”

Hizashi was a media hero and could be silly, but he also had a fondness for engineering and lists, so it wasn’t too hard to make a list and keep track of the changes he noticed as the night went on.

The first, of course, had been his hearing. He no longer needed his hearing aids, which was as thrilling as it was terrifying, and he heard more sounds than he could ever remember hearing. The way he heard also reminded him of surround sound headphones, but not in a bad way. No, the bad part of it was that Support was still trying to figure out how to make headphones that would protect his even more sensitive ears from his quirk. Hizashi was, too, but so far he hadn’t had any luck, either, besides toying with the idea of earbuds.

The second change he really took note of was his sight. He still needed his glasses, sadly, but it had changed to where movement was sharper and clearer than things that were stationary. There was a word for it, but Hizashi was mostly focused on the fact he now had night vision and would now be able to make it to the bathroom at night without waking up Shouta too badly. There were also some color differences, but Hizashi had no idea how to explain it beyond different.

The next was taste because Hizashi had gotten hungry and then he realized that his tongue was different; or at least, the taste buds were. He was relieved beyond all measure to find that he didn’t have barbs on his tongue, at least, and for more reason than one, although he noticed his teeth were, well, not exactly human-like anymore. They weren’t monstrous, but they were definitely sharp. It wasn’t likely anyone would notice too much when he talked, but his smiles were going to be more terrifying than Shouta’s.

Those were at least all of the major changes, he had noticed. Everything else was… not small, but easier to adjust to. He couldn’t exactly test his quirk when he was at home with the cats, but he remembered he had purred involuntarily in the hospital, so he could probably make other cat noises - not that he couldn’t before, but it might be easier, now, he mused.

His balance seemed better, but it was hard to tell without something like a sparring match, which wouldn’t be for another week since he had been given leave from all three of his jobs and put on bad rest. Other than that his nails were slightly sharper, he felt more sensitive to touch, and smells were so much stronger - which wasn’t a bad thing, he found, when he wrapped himself up in one of Shouta’s night shirts before bed and found that the scent near drowned him.

Overall, after a couple hours of adjusting on his own without any nurses or doctors or worried husbands, Hizashi realized that his new changes weren’t all that bad. Different, perhaps, but he just needed to think of it like a new quirk.

A new quirk wasn’t much of a bad thought.

At least, it wasn’t until he realized just what this new quirk of his really meant over the following week.

It would have been fine if he maybe had almost any other quirk, but having his body change - having his ears and vocal folds change - when his quirk was Voice? It was a disaster and he couldn’t even test how much.

Shouta had been hovering and worried, but Hizashi could barely fake a smile around him because he was still on his week-long lockdown and he couldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t go on patrols or even test his limits or his quirk without the equipment he would need to protect his ears. He couldn’t grade or work on his lessons plans or do any paperwork at all without getting a headache because he had yet to get new glasses and every time he tried to read the words would just blur. He couldn’t even go to the radio station and prepare for his show because everything was too much.

Hizashi couldn’t even walk in a straight line without his completely screwed balance forcing him to walk into a wall or trip over something he hadn’t noticed; one trip having been because of his tail; and hadn’t that been fun to feel pain from a limb he hadn’t had in all of his previous years of living.

The situation could have at least been salvaged if he and Shouta could joke about it, but an explosion of crime had been picking up across the city and even with all of his free time Hizashi barely saw his husband. On top of all that, as if it wasn’t bad enough, they could barely touch without Hizashi feeling overwhelmed.

So, as if he wasn’t pathetic enough, Hizashi was collapsed on the bedroom floor in a pile of his clothes, bitter tears streaming down his face as cool air and nothing else pressed against his skin.

It wasn’t like this was his first time with sensory overload, but he was usually able to put on some soft shirts and relax somewhere until everything started calming down. Now, though, he couldn’t even do that because everything he owned was either too rough or just didn’t fit. All of his clothes were tailored and, with all the changes Hizashi’s body had gone through, they didn’t fit.

And, as if to make it worse, instead of sighing and going to get new clothes, because between him and Shouta and the five jobs they worked they could certainly afford it, he was crying like it was the end of the world.

It wasn’t even the clothes that were the problem. He knew it wasn’t. It was just the final shattering from the pressure that had been weighing down on him since this whole mess had begun.

He could have adjusted if it was just little changes or even some changes, but the fact his hearing had changed; he was afraid to use his quirk again. There was a reason he used to need hearing aids and now, as a thirty-one-year-old pro hero, he was terrified to ever use his quirk again. Everything else was just the icing on top.

“‘Zashi?” Hearing Shouta’s voice in the doorway, and too tired to try and pretend it was all okay to the man who knew him better than anyone, especially after his week, Hizashi only kept glaring down at the clothes on the floor around him, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You know, usually it’s me destroying the closet trying to find something.”

“They don’t fit,” Hizashi mumbled, hoping that would be enough to explain why he was on the floor now made of clothes while crying and wearing nothing but a pair of new boxers that allowed for his new tail. “None of them fit.”

“Then we can go shopping,” Shouta said, no hint of pause or hesitance in his words. Just a simple solution for what was a simple problem. “You love shopping and now you can try even more clothes that you couldn’t before, and whatever you really want to save we can get altered to fit you again. Right?”

Hizashi flinched as he felt his tail lash out and thwap against his skin, reminding him that it wasn’t just the clothes that was his problem. “I can barely walk a straight line because everything is different. How am I supposed to patrol, to fight, like this?”

“Easy. We’ll train more until we figure out a new way for you, like we did when I couldn’t use my binding cloth as well.” The memory of Shouta re-learning new ways to use his quirk and binding cloth after USJ had Hizashi giving a small shudder before he noticed Shouta’s voice was closer, Hizashi finally looking up only to have fabric dropping over his head, Shouta pushing and nudging at him for a minute until Hizashi was soon wearing an overly large sweater that was soft and warm and settled the restless itching of his skin.

Tucking his hands into the sleeves of the sweater, Hizashi felt like little more than a pathetic child as Shouta wiped his cheeks clean softly. Shouta shouldn’t have to worry about this when there was already so much on his plate-

“Hey,” Shouta scolded, pinching at his cheek and causing Hizashi to whine before he even fully realized it. “Your thoughts are as loud as you. No blaming yourself.”

“I’m not- I should be able to control this. It’s a lot of changes, yeah, but it’s not- This shouldn’t be so overwhelming!”

“We knew it was going to be difficult to adjust,” Shouta said softly, Hizashi hating it and then immediately hating himself and why was it so much? “We’ll get through this, ‘Zashi, just like we have everything else.”

“Shouta…” The clothes would easy to fix. The physical training would be harder, but it was nothing Hizashi hadn’t done before. The little things like the new ears and tail he could learn to be okay with, but… “I can’t use my quirk like this.”

His vocal folds had changed and they had no idea if his quirk was going to be more powerful or less powerful because of it. There was no way to even test it with his new ears, bulky and awkward and too dangerous around loud noises. If Hizashi wasn’t careful, then he could go completely deaf with just one scream. He had been hard of hearing before, but he had still been able to hear, and his hearing aids had been made to restore almost full sound. The idea of going completely deaf and never being able to properly use his quirk again without risking damage and harm was too awful a thought.

“And since when has a quirk decided who you are?” Shouta’s hand settled on his jaw before lifting his head up, Shouta’s entire focus solely on him. “How many fights have you been in where you won and didn’t use your quirk?”

“I- Those were specialized cases or training exercises or times where I just got lucky, Shouta, it doesn’t mean-”

“And since when did you need your quirk in order to do your show? As far as I remember, they hate when you use your quirk on your show; and you hate it because it damages the equipment.”

Hizashi bit his lip, silently conceding that he did have a point with that, at least. Hizashi didn’t need to use his quirk to still be a DJ, which he would be able to go back to as soon as all his sensitivity went down.

“You also don’t need your quirk to teach your students. In fact, I think they’ll appreciate that you can only scream at them normally when they fall asleep instead of quirk screaming at them-”

“It was one time and that little punk had it coming,” Hizashi defended himself, slightly startled when Shouta’s hands tangled with his, palms clasped together and grip tight on his own. For the first time in days, it felt like Hizashi could breathe again. “Shouta…”

“Since when did you ever need your quirk to be Yamada Hizashi?” Shouta gave him a soft, fond smile, bumping their foreheads together and startling Hizashi into giving a wet laugh. “This isn’t the end of the world, Sunshine. Isn’t that what you told me all those months ago?”

Ah, but he had forgotten. Hizashi wasn’t alone in dealing with all of this. It wasn’t pleasant, and it would probably never be pleasant, but he wasn’t alone. He really had been having a bad week if he had forgotten that.

“Maybe, but you said it better.” Hizashi tilted his head up to give Shouta a chaste kiss, fears and worries chased away by Shouta once again. “At least I’m even better looking than before, right?”

As he had hoped, Shouta let out an actual laugh, shaking his head as he tugged at Hizashi’s left hand, tangling their fingers together before brushing his lips against his wedding ring, Hizashi feeling his heart skip a beat even though they had been together for years. At this point, they had known each other for a little over half their lives, and yet Shouta still always managed to make him so flustered.

“We’ll get through this, Sunshine, just like we’ve always done. Together.” For the first time since the raid gone wrong, Hizashi felt something in him finally settle.

“Oh, what the hell, that’s so unfair! You can’t just swoop in and sweep me off my feet like that, Shouta, that’s unfair! Stop being unfair!” This time, the tears weren’t bitter as Shouta laughed brightly.

As sweet as Shouta’s words, though, that didn’t mean everything solved itself instantly.

Once his week of being quarantined was up Hizashi had thrown himself back into his usual routines to prove that everything was great and he could handle the changes that had happened to him, which would have been great if it were true.

“You were unconscious! You’re supposed to be a long-distance fighter so please, I’m begging you, how do you end up allowing a jewelry thief close enough to knock you out with a punch?!” Hizashi loved his interns at the radio station, truly, he did, but sometimes he wished they had an off switch. Especially Suki.

“Hey, Suki-chan, I know you’re hyped up on about five different kinds of energy drinks, but could you maybe lower your volume just a little tiny bit while I wallow in my grief and exhaustion?” Hizashi aimed for a dramatic tone of voice, but most of it just came out tired as he leaned back in his comfortable office chair in his recording booth and pressed the ice pack he had scrounged up against the black eye he had acquired a few hours ago while on patrol.

“I would, but Aizawa-san said that I’m allowed to be cruel when I think you deserve it, and I think you definitely deserve it if you’re doing hero work after everything!” Suki’s yelling had Hizashi’s ears twitching, the sensation starting to become familiar; or, at least, Hizashi was able to appreciate when he could press his new ears down against his head and block out some of the noise. “He also sent a message that he would be here to walk you home.”

Hizashi groaned and sunk down in his chair even more, mostly due to guilt about throwing himself back into his hero work when he really shouldn’t have, and partly because his husband was the most adorable, stubborn man in all of the world.

As if the man could read minds, which Hizashi wouldn’t put past him, his phone buzzed with a new message. He still had half an hour until the playlist ended and he would have to go back on air for a segment, but for the moment it was all too easy to toss his ice pack, now melted, onto the floor and away from any cords as he grabbed his phone.

‘Takada says you’re being an irresponsible idiot. What did you do?’ It took a moment to find his new glasses and shove them on so he could actually read the text, but when he did he was immediately glaring over at Suki where she was monitoring the show and equipment from the outside of the booth, the line open and window clear.

“Are you a spy of my husband?” Instead of a proper answer, Suki pointedly drank from a container of coffee that came from one of the more expensive coffee stores in their part of town. ‘How dare you turn my interns against me!!! Now I must purge them!!!’ “Now you’re getting the cheap American brand of coffee come Christmas!”

‘You wouldn’t dare you care too much.’ Aah, Shouta knew him so well! ‘And Takada would become a super villain and give you even more work.’ So very, very well.

‘Ah, yes, the true reason to keep her employed. It has nothing to do with how fond you’ve become of her. How’s patrol?’

‘Fine.’ Staring down at the single word text, Hizashi showed his displeasure with a slew of emojis. Shouta may have been a man of few words, but that was ridiculous even for him. ‘How’s the station?’

‘Fine.’ There, see? Hizashi could do it, too! ‘Except I hate my new glasses they’re curved all weird because of the LACK OF EARS where there should normally be ears like if my vision was going to change why couldn’t it get just good enough to not need glasses this is horrible Shou-chan I’m dying and it’s all over for me.’

As soon as the message was sent, Hizashi looked down at his phone, sighed, leaned back, made sure his tail was out of the way of his office chair wheels because once was far more than enough, and then held his phone out and accepted the call that popped up before it could even fully ring. “You, sweet Starlight, are far too predictable.”

“Glad to know it goes both ways.” As it always had and no doubt always would, Shouta’s voice had something in Hizashi uncoiling as he slumped down in his seat even more. Even his bruise seemed to ache and burn less - which was a definite improvement. “And Takada didn’t turn anymore spy than usual. Nemuri sent me some news clips from today.”

“Ah.” Hizashi was surprised there was any room left to sink down, but he still managed it, playing with the earbuds around his neck that he had slowly been getting used to. Any ideas on actual headphones had been scrapped for his new ears, but Hizashi and the Support workers he could bribe had been playing around with the idea of earbuds and ear plugs that would seal the ears as soon as his quirk reached harmful decibels. “I don’t suppose the excuse of-”

“No, it wouldn’t work.” Shouta sounded a mixture of tired and amused, with, thank god, amusement winning out. “The condition of being back on patrol meant you were supposed to be careful, not run into every fist you see.”

“I was being careful!” Hizashi whined, drawing out the words to make Shouta laugh and Suki twitch and yell at him to stop being annoying. “I think the plugs still need some work, though. They didn’t fail, but they felt uncomfortable as hell.”

If he were being honest with himself, which he tried not to be too often, the plugs were a big reason of why he had been so distracted with his capture that day. He was still adjusting to the overwhelming noise of the city and, well, being a media hero… He was caught off guard more than he wanted to be.

There was a soft laugh from Shouta over the phone, Hizashi wishing he could hold it up to his ear to hear the sound even better like he used to. There were still so many things to adjust to. “At least you kept up on your physical training from what Nemuri showed me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I can punch my students,” Hizashi snorted, rubbing at his eyes for a moment. “I’d love to, though, Shouta, I really, really, really would. A lot of them are idiots, Shouta, and while some of them are cute, well-meaning idiots, they’re still idiots.”

There was more laughter coming from Shouta and Hizashi soaked up the sound like he would a favorite song of his. In a way, Shouta’s laughter was his favorite song. “I’m serious, Shou-chan! It’s not like the teachers are any better, either! Don’t get me wrong, I love Yagi-san, but he’s so…” Trailing off, Hizashi was torn as his lips screwed up into something between a grimace and a grin. “How much of a hypocrite would I be if I said he was loud?”

“Incredibly. Not so easy now that you can’t just turn your hearing aids down, huh?” Aah, so Shouta had known about that. “Did Nezu say anything?”

“Not much. Welcomed me back, was glad to see I was doing alright, and told me to let him know if I need any help or more time off or something like that. Apparently he’s just been waiting for me to use up my sick days- Don’t laugh at that! You’re even worse than I am!”

Hearing tapping on the glass window, Hizashi flicked his gaze up to see Suki looking expectant before calling out, “Unless you wanna broadcast you being all sweet and loving with Aizawa-san, then you might want to hang up. We’re live in five minutes.”

“I don’t wanna go back on,” Hizashi whined, clutching his phone as if Suki would come in and take it away from him. He wouldn’t put it past her, the little gremlin. “Let me talk to my husband in peace!”

Hizashi’s dramatics were awarded with another one of Shouta’s low chuckles before he was speaking again. “Go on. I’ll still hear you. I always do.”

“Yo, what the hell, you can’t be that sweet when I’m at that station, Shou-chan, we’ve talked about this! The last thing I need to do is cry live on air!”

“I’ll see you later tonight, Sunshine.” The words were nothing less than a promise and Hizashi knew he was now going to be distracted for the rest of his show. He loved it. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Shouta,” Hizashi said softly, ending the call and adjusting his earbuds to catch the last song on his setlist. Getting ready to flip himself over to his microphone, Hizashi took a moment to calm himself down.

While his eye was still throbbing and his ice pack had only lasted for so long, this, hosting his show and connecting to an audience that loved to listen, was something he would always be able to do.

Hero work, however…

The next few patrols after his first one back showed that he desperately needed more training, both to focus on new ways to use his quirk and to improve his hand-to-hand combat.

He didn’t expected that to lead to him gasping for breath on the floor in one of the school gyms, struggling to try and remember that he wasn’t going to die and that his friends had no understanding of the word mercy.

“You’re doing great, Hizashi, you just need to move faster next time!” Tilting his head back just enough to glare at Tensei, Hizashi flipped him off. “That’s what your husband is for!”

“Oh, yeah, move faster coming from the one in the wheelchair,” Hizashi grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes when Tensei only laughed. “Moving with an entirely new body is harder than it looks, you know!”

Groaning when his side was nudged with a familiar boot, Hizashi squinted up at Nemuri before frowning. “Why are you crooked?”

“That would be your goggles, baby, not me-”

“Are you saying you’re not crooked, Nems? We all know that out of all of us you’d be the super villain-”

As Tensei and Nemuri started fighting, as always, Hizashi smiled tiredly as Shouta knelt and adjusted Hizashi’s goggles - the only solution they had when it came to his poor vision. His new curved glasses may have worked when he was at home or at the station, but not so much when he needed to fight.

“Looks like we’re matching more and more,” Hizashi joked, accepting the hand to help pull him up. “How am I doing so far?”

“Better,” Shouta smiled. “Much better. How are your ears? Any problems so far?” Before Hizashi could answer, he felt Shouta lightly rubbing at his ears, Hizashi feeling the rumble in his throat that signified he was purring. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You’re just lucky you’re cute,” Hizashi managed to mutter, not even trying to fight the delightful feeling. “I dunno, my normal attacks cause more pain than they should, but I can still use the high range set. Echolocation, disorientation, everything infrasonic, basically.”

Shouta hummed, looking thoughtful as he dropped his hand and tugged at the bands of his binding cloth. He probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it, which made it all the cuter. “You were starting to have trouble with your more powerful attacks, anyways.”

“Yeah,” Hizashi sighed, trying to make it as dramatic as possible as he collapsed against Shouta’s front, stretching his arms out over the man’s shoulders and nuzzling at the cloth where he would usually be pressing kisses against bare skin. “We always knew my career had a time limit, I guess.”

Shouta gave another soft hum, a hand moving to play with the ends of his hair that he had pulled out of the way in a simple ponytail. While he loved his usual Present Mic look, it had been destroyed considering his ears and new skin sensitivity. Half his classes still couldn’t recognize him in the halls, now, and Nemuri had held a ‘funeral’ for his typical Present Mic hairstyle which, for her, had been an excuse to insult it for two hours.

Taking a moment to curl closer and relax at Shouta’s scent, which was stronger and far more earthy since this mess had begun, Hizashi finally pushed himself back and gave a smile. “Right, then! Let’s keep going, yeah?”

“You sure?” Shouta studied his face quickly and easily, Hizashi snorting when Shouta looked suspicious. “They’ll probably be fighting for another half hour, at least.”

“I’m sure, Shouta,” Hizashi smiled, snagging a quick kiss that deepened when he felt Shouta’s tongue trace the seam of his lips, slipping in before Hizashi could even think to deny him. It didn’t help when he felt fingers dragging down against his scalp in just the right way to have a wave of shivers rushing over him.

It took longer than it should have before Hizashi managed to pull back, panting against Shouta’s lips and muttering a weak, “That’s not going to make me want to keep sparring.”

“Mm, no, I think it’ll give you just the motivation that you need,” Shouta smirked before moving so his lips were pressed against the edge of Hizashi’s jaw, teeth catching at the skin.

Then, just like that, Shouta was gone and heading towards the other side of the gym, Hizashi shaky and trying to get his balance back under him as he took a few deep breaths.

Shouta was smirking at him as he always did after distracting him before their next sparring match, Nemuri and Tensei were loudly arguing about who was to blame for their last outing that ended in food poisoning for all four of them, and Hizashi felt like his heart was fit to burst with how many great people he had in his life.

He supposed that, if nothing else, he would always have these three behind him. For now, though, Hizashi adjusted his goggles, made sure his earplugs were in position, sucked in a steady breath, and grinned.

Present Mic still had a few more years left, as far as he was concerned.

★★★

Shouta was used to working when he was sleep deprived considering the fact he was a teacher and an underground hero; not to mention he now also had dorm duties thanks to U.A.’s new living system. Overall, he was busy enough that he was used to sleep deprivation and he was used to thinking and working through it.

No matter how long he stared down at Shinsou Hitoshi, though, Shouta couldn’t figure out why the kid was there - there being his and Hizashi’s on campus apartment that was only a few minutes’ walk from the 1-A dorms. The teen was his mentee, one that he and Hizashi both had grown horribly and overwhelming fond of, but as far as Shouta was aware, there was nothing that would have him in front of their door this late at night, and he could at least rule out an emergency because Hitoshi was looking more embarrassed than panicked.

Finally, after a few minutes of nothing being said, Shouta sighed and opened the door more. “Hitoshi, why aren’t you in your dorms when it’s past curfew?”

Interestingly enough, Hitoshi’s embarrassment seemed to get worse, the teen finally muttering out a weak, “Getting lost isn’t a right answer, there, huh.” As usual with him, his tone flattened the words, making it so there was no chance of it being a question. Shouta felt a brief flash of rage for every adult who had ever made Hitoshi think that he couldn’t ask a simple question before Hitoshi was speaking again. “Is Yamada-san home?”

Oh. Now that was interesting. Staying silent, Shouta waited until Hitoshi broke and started rambling, unable to stand the awkward silence. It was a great trick to get him to talk. “See, okay, so, I was watching the hero news before I go to bed because, you know, I’m in a school made for heroes, and stuff, so it’s a good thing to do, right?

“So, uh, I was watching the news and all these clips and I saw Present Mic’s latest interview about the raid and stuff where he, uh, yeah, and, well, um, I was- I wasn’t worried, but, uh, you know that I like cats, and stuff, and I know he’s a media hero and loves the spotlight and stuff, but his ears and tail kept reminding me of a cat ready to attack or something the longer the interview went on and I just wanted to come by and check if he was alright because I know what’s it like to keep getting pushed to answer questions you don’t want to answer.”

In the ensuing silence as Hitoshi gasped for breath, having rambled for longer than he had air, Shouta nodded to himself before stepping back, opening the door completely, and dragging Hitoshi inside.

“He’s on the couch. Shoes off and then you can go talk to him. He’s been sulking.” Shouta made sure the kid took his coat off, too, hanging it up before following after him to the living room where Hizashi was curled up on the couch and looking dejected, eyes on the TV where his latest interview was playing - one that he had been ambushed for right after a fight that had gone poorly once again.

“Present Mic, have you thought about retiring due to recent circumstances that have left you unable to fight?”

“‘Present Mic, have you thought about retiring,’” Hizashi mimicked, Shouta fighting back a laugh as Hitoshi seemed to be doing the same. “I can fight well enough to take down villains without causing property damage like some heroes!”

“Probably why you went up a couple spots in the hero rankings last week,” Hitoshi said in way of a greeting, Shouta unable to hide a snort as Hizashi jumped, ears pricking up. “A lot of people think you’re gonna join the Wild Wild Pussycats, though.”

Hizashi looked between Hitoshi and Shouta for a few seconds before scooting over and freeing up some more room on the couch, Shouta feeling something in him relax and warm when Hitoshi went over to sit down without being asked or nudged or pushed. Hizashi seemed to feel the same, fond expression on his face before he was launching into his favorite story about almost joining the hero group when they had just graduated from their third year.

As Hizashi talked and Hitoshi listened with rapt attention, Shouta moved and started ‘cleaning’ to make it look like he was busy, instead mostly watching the two as Hitoshi laughed and talked freely and Hizashi seemed to relax and come out of his depressive attitude that he had been stuck in since getting home.

It was nice to know that if Hizashi got to force Shouta into being ‘positive’ about everything and then not take his own advice, then Hizashi got to deal with a worried Hitoshi; who was now sprouting off cat facts and new ways Hizashi might be able to fight and use his quirk.

Shouta wasn’t aware of how caught up he was in watching them until he was rolling his eyes as Hizashi cooed over Hitoshi, hugging the teen tightly before looking over to Shouta and chirping out a cheerful, “Shouta, don’t we have such a great kid!”

“He comes all the way to check on you and instead you torture him? So much for being a hero,” Shouta snorted, watching as Hizashi only tugged off his ‘depression blanket’ and dropped it on Hitoshi, who seemed all too glad to have a reason to hide his face. “Hitoshi, which teacher is on dorm duty for 1-C tonight?”

“Oh, uh, Midnight-sensei.” Hitoshi poked his head out from under the blanket, wrapping the rest around him and looking one step away from falling asleep under it, especially with the bags under his eyes that were as bad as Shouta’s. “She gave me permission to come over and said she’d text you.”

“She did?” Shouta frowned, patting at his pockets before digging out his phone and staring at the empty screen. Pulling up Nemuri’s contact, Shouta sent a quick message asking her if she knew Hitoshi had left the dorms.

“Hang on, it’s already close to eleven,” Hizashi frowned, looking up to glance out one of the windows where night had already fallen. “Did you walk all the way over here in the dark?”

Hitoshi stared at him for a long moment before averting his eyes and clearing his throat, finally muttering out a quiet, “Maybe.”

Hizashi was already laughing as Shouta’s phone buzzed with a new message, Shouta rolling his eyes. ‘Oh yeah I forgot to tell you!!! Hitoshi-chan is coming your way he has permission to stay with you if you don’t wanna send him back!!!’

“Hitoshi, Nemuri says you have permission to spend the night in our guest bedroom if you want to stay instead of walking back,” Shouta said, shoving his phone away and collapsing on the couch on Hitoshi’s other side, watching the teen carefully to see the indecision. “One of us will walk you back, if you want, but I think we’d prefer it if you stayed here considering the time.”

“You’re not as subtle as you used to be, Sensei,” Hitoshi said, Shouta trying to smother the proud grin that wanted to come up. It used to be that Hitoshi would just nod along to whatever was ‘less troublesome.’ “You guys wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“Of course not!” Hizashi said, wrapping Hitoshi up in another tight hug that the teen didn’t even try to fight against. “We’d love to have you stay here, Hitoshi.” Hizashi made a sound that was almost like an actual chirp, Shouta slowly raising his eyebrows as Hizashi nuzzled the top of Hitoshi’s head in a move that was far too like what one of their cats would do when scent marking them.

Hitoshi seemed completely baffled as if he had realized the same thing, looking to Shouta and asking a weak, “Should I be fighting against this or just let it happen?”

“With him? You don’t have the energy to fight against him,” Shouta snorted, making a mental note of another new ‘cat trait’ of Hizashi’s.

Shouta hadn’t thought much of it when Hizashi had worn Shouta’s shirts or rubbed their cheeks together or rubbed at his neck since it was far from the first time, but watching him ruffle Hitoshi’s hair before starting to comb his fingers through it after nuzzling him, well. The scent marking shouldn’t be too surprising. It was at least tame compared to some of the other new traits.

Glancing at the time again, Shouta turned down the volume on the news station that was still playing, sat back, and waited.

It took half an hour before Hitoshi was completely asleep against Hizashi, blanket tucked around him and hair a fluffy mess that made him look so much younger than he acted. Seeing the soft, fond look on Hizashi’s face and the fact the man’s tail was wrapped around Hitoshi, Shouta didn’t bother feeling guilty about taking his phone out again and snapping a picture.

“You had better share that one, Shou-chan,” Hizashi pouted, looking up at Shouta before that fond look turned to worry. “Summer isn’t too far away… Do you really think he’ll say yes?”

Thinking about the question for a moment, Shouta stared at the two before sighing. “I hope he will, but I’m not sure. It could go either way. It’s… From what his caseworker said and what he’s told us, it doesn’t sound like he’s really had a family before - at least, not in a long time.”

“He’s almost sixteen, too,” Hizashi grumbled, ears flicking and pressing back, but not fully. The tail, meanwhile, curled more tightly around the sleeping teenager. “It’s not like he’ll really need parents for very long.”

“No, he won’t,” Shouta agreed, gaze drifting up to meet Hizashi’s. “But maybe he’ll want them.” A moment passed where Hizashi looked terribly fond before Shouta cleared his throat and stood up. “Besides, who wouldn’t want a half-cat dad.”

“Says the one who almost got adopted by Nezu when we were still in school. Didn’t he even have the paperwork drawn up, at one point?”

“Still does,” Shouta laughed, lightly patting at Hitoshi’s cheek for a moment. The teen didn’t so much as twitch. “I’ll carry him to his room. He needs the sleep.”

Hizashi snorted, stealing a kiss when Shouta leaned over to scoop Hitoshi into his arms. Shouta managed to give him a decent glare even as he flushed, careful when he stood back up. Stepping away, he paused at seeing Hizashi’s grin, something soft and warm and so loving. “What? What’s with that look?”

“I just…” Hizashi paused, quiet before he shook his head and got to his feet, kissing Shouta’s cheek softly. “I guess I just really love our family.”

“That was cruel,” Shouta grumbled, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he quickly walked away from Hizashi’s stifled laughter.

Shaking it off and getting to the guest bedroom, which looked more like a bedroom for a teenager who loved heroes and soft things because both he and Hizashi were far too weak, Shouta went to the bed and set Hitoshi down carefully, blanket and all. Tugging out the others from under Hitoshi and then setting them on top of him, Shouta sighed and crossed his arms.

“You know, it’s more convincing if you make it seem like you’re almost waking up, especially when being moved around.” Shouta watched as Hitoshi cracked his eyes open, looking bleary, but still decently awake. He also had a small smirk that Shouta had to fight to not laugh at. “You can eat breakfast here, but we’ll make sure you get back to your dorm before classes.”

Halfway to the door, Shouta stopped and turned around at Hitoshi’s quiet, “Sensei?” Waiting patiently, Shouta watched as Hitoshi’s gaze flicked around the room before settling on him with a type of resolve he hadn’t seen since the teen had vowed that he would be a hero. “I’ll say yes.”

“Oh?” Running back over their conversation from earlier, Shouta tried to figure out what Hitoshi could be saying yes to before he was speaking again.

“This summer. When you… When you ask me… I’ll say yes.” Oh. Oh. Shouta stared, utterly speechless for a moment before Hitoshi laughed and turned around so he was even more wrapped up in his blankets. “Goodnight, Sensei.”

Somehow managing a quiet goodnight as he left the room, Shouta shut the door gently before looking to where Hizashi had been leaning against the wall and listening, hands now covering his mouth and eyes wide with quickly forming tears. Everything about him screamed nothing except joy.

“Well,” Shouta finally managed, grin tugging at his lips. “Guess this makes it easier since you were scent marking him half the night.”

Laughing at the squawk of outrage, Shouta quickly dodged the playful swipe and dragged Hizashi along to their bedroom, mind racing. They had a lot to get ready before they brought their son home for the summer, after all.

Of course, some of what still needed doing was working on Hizashi’s quirk.

It had been a couple of months since the raid and while Hizashi was adjusting, there were still things he could no longer do with his quirk, and it wasn’t hard to see he was having a harder time fighting in public areas where everything was loud, bright, and overwhelming on a good day.

Their sparring sessions had gone down now that Hizashi seemed to have a decent time with his new flexibility and movement, fighting styles all altered to fit and now able to land on his feet when he was falling - even if it was back first - but his ears… Shouta had a feeling hearing aids for cat ears were a lot harder to come by.

Shouta sighed to himself, trying to stop thinking about Hizashi’s patrols as he worked on his own, eyes scanning familiar streets and late night wanderers who were making their way home. A flash of blonde hair from a laughing woman surrounded by friends had his mind going right back to Hizashi, though.

If they couldn’t figure out a way for Hizashi to safely do his hero work, then the days of Present Mic might be reaching their end. The thought alone had Shouta giving out a bitter laugh, unable to help the thought of how he was supposed to be the one who retired first - especially considering how the USJ incident had gone. There had to be something they could do.

A shrill scream broke the night and his thoughts and Shouta was already on the move before it fully registered, bands snapping out to wrap around one of the streetlamps and bring him to ground level just as he saw a male figure roughly his height disappearing around a corner and into an alleyway with something clutched in his hands, a woman a few feet away collapsed on the ground and looking panicked.

Shouta stopped by her for half a moment, checking her over for any damage and seeing nothing more than a cut on her arm that looked to be shallow. “Hey- Are you a hero? He stole my bag- My whole life is in that thing!”

“I am and I’ll help you get it back as best I can. Do you still have your phone? Can you call the police?” When he got a shake of the head, Shouta tsked and tossed his own phone towards her after unlocking it. “Call the police and explain the situation. I’ll be right back, ma’am.”

Shouta left before she could get anything else out, heading down the alley and swearing to himself when he saw it empty. It didn’t feel empty, though, and that meant a quirk that allowed the thief to hide - which was good. Hiding was something Shouta could work with.

“Oi, oi, a purse snatcher, really? Don’t you have some candy to steal from babies, instead?” Shouta drawled, eyes scanning for any sort of movement and ears straining for sound. “Should I have had your parents called instead of the police?”

There was the slightest noise behind him and that was all Shouta needed to spin around and quickly cross his arms and hold them up, catching the boot that had almost slammed into his back. The thief, male, black hair, black eyes, pale, roughly in his twenties, looked surprised before he was jerking back. He only managed a few feet before Shouta had his cloth snapping out, two of the bands wrapping around the thief as Shouta reached for his quirk, not quite activating it but ready to at a moment’s notice.

“Next time, kid, you might want to stop and think before committing one of the most cliché crimes there is.” Instead of paling further and making excuses or threats as typically happened, the kid grinned.

“You must be Eraserhead.” Fuck. It was never good when they knew his name. “My mentor told me about you. Said that you patrolled this area. Guess he was right.”

Trap.

“Good job, Shade.” There had been no sound or movement in the alleyway besides him and ‘Shade,’ but the voice was right behind him and it took everything Shouta had not to tense up. “Flushed out like a rat, don’t you think, Eraserhead?”

Shade squirmed and Shouta tightened the bands on instinct, taking a moment to re-think his plans and what he could do. Police were already on their way, so he only had to keep the two busy for so long. That should be simple enough - although it depended on who he was up against.

“What? No greeting? Where are your manners, Eraserhead?” Whoever was behind this sounded like he knew him in some way or another. That usually made things worse.

“I keep asking him the same thing, yo, but he never answers!” Freezing at the voice that he knew better than his own, Shouta wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell at the fact Hizashi, no doubt on his way home from the radio station, had found the exact alleyway he was in. “Oi, oi, a party I wasn’t invited to? Eraser! I’m hurt!”

“Who the hell-” Not letting the man behind him finish, Shouta activated his quirk before gripping the bands tightly and moving to throw the one he had captured into the one behind him, loosening the cloth just in time for the two to both go tumbling to the ground, Shouta almost smiling at Hizashi’s bright laughter.

“Looks like U.A.’s favorite hero duo is back in action!” Hizashi cheerfully shouted, Shouta making sure the two villains were distracted before he was digging out a pair of ear plugs from his belt and slipping them in. He had worked with Hizashi too often in the past to not be prepared. “What do you say, Eraser, fancy a team up?”

Shouta finally looked up to see Hizashi stalking forward with one of his Present Mic grins, looking the part of yakuza more than anything else; or worse, considering his smiles were now filled with sharp, dangerous teeth. Shouta couldn’t help a snort as he readied the binding cloth again with a quick, “You’re not my first choice, but you’ll do.”

Hizashi’s laugh was the only signal he needed before they were both launching into action, Shouta more pleased than he would have thought at being able to fight by Hizashi’s side again. There had been a reason, he mused, that no one in their third year would go up against them during matchups.

Five minutes, if that, had the two villains tied up in a bright spot, mostly due to Shade’s ability to hide in the shadows, the stolen bag returned, and the police on their way.

“You know,” Shouta said as he nudged at Hizashi softly. “You don’t make a half bad underground hero.”

Instead of laughing and waving the compliment off, Shouta felt something like dread as Hizashi perked up before grinning. “You think? Because, now, I know you’ve shot me down time and time again about the whole hero duo thing, but, I want you to hear me out on this one!”

Shouta paused as Hizashi went off into his ‘argument,’ thinking about it himself. He had always shot Hizashi down about being a duo purely because while their quirks and fighting styles matched up, everything else… didn’t. Present Mic was a media hero who was always in the spotlight, but now that spotlight was damaging him. If he were to become an underground hero, though, well. That made it different.

Not only would Hizashi be relying on the infrasonic parts of his quirk instead of just pure shouting force, he wouldn’t be dealing with the overwhelming sights and sounds of the city when it was awake. His new fighting style in thanks to his ‘new quirk’ as he kept calling it would only make it easier, especially since he now had the skills to not only keep up but catch up. A hero duo between the two of them wasn’t such a bad idea anymore.

Looking to where Hizashi was still rambling, Shouta stole a glance at the villains, making sure they were knocked out completely before cutting Hizashi off with a soft kiss, muffling the words until Hizashi was making a small noise and then kissing him back. It was a delight to pull back and see Hizashi looked completely distracted, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he managed a quiet, “What was that for?”

“Compensation since you don’t get to choose the final name for us,” Shouta hummed, pleased when it only took half a second before Hizashi seemed to catch on. “You’ll need a new hero costume.”

“Between you and me,” Hizashi sighed dramatically, winding his arms around Shouta’s neck. “Leather was never such a good idea to begin with.”

Shouta hummed, running a hand through Hizashi’s hair and hiding a smile as he heard the approaching sirens. Hizashi, he knew, had come to the same conclusion he had. Present Mic’s days as a media hero were over, but that didn’t mean Present Mic was over.

The panic over the last few months had finally settled down and their lives could continue as they always had.

At least, that was the plan before Eri came along.

They had started the school year with no children and the mistaken belief that everything would continue as it always had. Now it was a few weeks into summer, they had two children who Shouta would kill for without question, and he and his husband were an underground hero duo that couldn’t be beat.

“I think Hizashi-san has gotten a little carried away with the whole parent to a little girl thing,” Hitoshi mumbled, pushing over the half full coffee pot the moment Shouta sat down at the table. “They’ve spent the last hour running around as magical girls and ‘vanquishing’ the darkness.”

Shouta hummed, looking to where he saw a flash of laces and ribbons running past, accompanied by Eri’s bright giggles that were still rare enough to be precious. Looking back to Hitoshi, who was half-asleep like a sensible person and tucked under one of the blankets they had bought him, Shouta asked a simple, “Pictures?”

Hitoshi almost looked offended as he answered. “Of course. I already uploaded them to Hizashi-san’s online album or whatever it is.” They had wonderful children and Shouta had the distinct feeling that he would go to war with anyone who said otherwise. “You might wanna talk with Eri, later, though. She was asking me quirk-related questions, like how to use a quirk and control it and stuff.”

“At least she’s healing enough to be curious about quirks again,” Shouta pointed out, draining half his cup in one go. Hitoshi raised an eyebrow and pushed the pot closer towards him. “Anything I should worry about?”

Hitoshi scrunched up his nose and thought about it, the expression horribly similar to Hizashi when he was thinking over something himself. “I don’t think so. I think… I don’t know. I think she might be getting more comfortable with her quirk.”

“Seems to be a common theme in this family.” Shouta drained the rest of his cup, hiding a smile at Hitoshi’s eye rolling. “Alright, I’ll go check on her and Hizashi and their quest to ‘vanquish the darkness.’ Don’t go back to sleep, yet. Nemuri’s coming over for lunch.”

“Cool. I’ll just stay up and then pass out at the table once she and Hizashi-san start one of their ‘debates,’” Hitoshi yawned, grabbing his own cup of coffee and stumbling off towards his room. “Or I’ll go into a coma, first.”

Shouta snorted and drained the rest of his own cup before gathering the few dishes scattered about and placing them in the sink, taking a moment to make sure the kitchen wasn’t about to devolve into total anarchy before heading off towards Eri’s room where he could still hear faint giggles of laughter.

“-really happened only a few months ago? You seem, um… It fits.” At Eri’s soft, stumbling words, Shouta peered around the corner, still mostly out of sight, to see that Eri had a small hand wrapped around Hizashi’s tail, the girl being careful to stroke the fur in one direction. Hizashi, wrapped up in a soft sweater and a few pink ribbons, gave a soft noise that was between a purr and a hum as one of his ears twitched.

“Yep! It happened because of my hero work where I was helping other little kids who were trapped - like you! It doesn’t hurt anymore, and I’ve learned to make the most of it.” Hizashi looked around dramatically, Shouta watching as Hizashi caught his gaze for a half second before grinning and bending down to whisper to Eri, the two of them sitting on the floor with Eri bundled in his lap. “You know, I actually think of it like a second quirk. How cool is that?”

Eri giggled as Hizashi wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, a soft, warm smile on his face that Shouta had only seen directed towards him, and now, of course, their kids. He was ready to leave it at that and head back to Hitoshi’s room to make sure the teen was really awake, but he paused at hearing Eri’s soft, “Do you ever wish you could go back? To before you were changed?”

Hizashi seemed as surprised as Shouta, opening and closing his mouth before giving a thoughtful little noise that Shouta knew meant he was completely surprised. “Well… I guess I’ve thought of it a few times, back when this first happened and everything was still so new and overwhelming. Why do you ask, sweetie?”

“Oh, um, well…” Eri shifting and squirmed like she did when she had something she wanted to say and didn’t know how to say it, but Shouta wasn’t worried. Hizashi was more patient than anyone he had ever met, and he seemed all too content to play with Eri’s hair and rub her back as she fought with her words. “I’ve… been thinking about my quirk and practicing during the sessions with it and… I’m getting better.” There was no ‘I think’ before the words and Shouta knew his expression was as stupidly fond as Hizashi’s.

“I’m getting better at rewinding things before it gets too much, and- And you told me it hasn’t even really been a year,” Eri continued, hands clutching at her dress before she looked up at Hizashi with as much determination as she could muster. “I think I can rewind you back to before you were like this. Do you-”

“No.” The answer was as quick as it was soft, Shouta creeping closer and not sure if he or Eri were more surprised by the answer. “Oh, Princess, don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy that you’re starting to see the good you can do with your quirk, but I don’t need it.”

“But… you said it hurt. When it happened, you said it hurt, and you told me once that you still hurt from it all sometimes! Aren’t you supposed to want to get better when you’re hurt?” Eri crossed her arms and pouted up at Hizashi and Shouta had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing or, possibly, crying. A pouting Eri with puffed up cheeks was so much better than when she had been silent and still and blank.

“Of course! You should always try to get better when your sick or hurt, but this… is a bit different.” Hizashi wrapped his arms around Eri and cuddled her close, Eri accepting the affection at once and relaxing in his arms. “How do I put this…” Hizashi proceeded to make a series of ridiculous noises that showed he was ‘thinking,’ Eri laughing all the while before Hizashi snapped his fingers. “It’s like a scar!”

“A scar?” Eri frowned, patting at his tail again as she seemed to take a moment to think, Hizashi waiting on her patiently as his tail seemed to curl around her, keeping her close. Shouta could relate to the feeling. “But scars hurt, sometimes… Does this hurt sometimes?”

“Sometimes. Less so than when it first happened, but it’s like a scar in the way that I can’t go back in time and just change it; although maybe you could,” Hizashi winked before his smile softened at Eri’s bright burst of giggles. “No, it… It reminds me that being a hero can be dangerous, but that it’s worth it. This happened to me because we were rescuing a group of children that were in a dangerous situation. I’ll never regret that.

“It also reminded me that I needed to be more careful.” Hizashi’s voice grew quieter, his gaze flicking up to meet Shouta’s own before he was bending close as if telling Eri a secret. “You see, I was always a bit reckless with my quirk when I thought I was needed. I ended up getting hurt more than Shouta, some days!”

“But I thought Dad always hurt?” Eri’s question was filled with innocent confusion and Shouta wasn’t sure whether to feel emotional over the fact she had so quickly latched onto calling him her dad or if he should be annoyed that even his youngest knew about his chronic pain. “How did you hurt more than him?”

“It was a talent,” Hizashi snorted, shaking his head. “But that’s not my point! You see, these ears and this tail and all these little changes, they reminded me that risking my own safety over someone else’s wasn’t a good thing. Because I have a husband that I love and never want to leave, and a son that’s growing up and still has so much he needs help with, and a beautiful little girl who I want to spend as much time as possible with.”

Eri went silent as she digested the information with a serious expression, Shouta watching the two of them with more love than he ever thought he was capable of. His family may have been ragged and mismatched, but Shouta knew he wouldn’t change them for the world; he wouldn’t change a second of this for anything.

“I think I get it,” Eri finally said, looking up to Hizashi with young eyes that had seen far too much. “But let me know if you ever hurt and I’ll be extra careful!”

Hizashi laughed, his eyes wet and words choked as he managed a soft, “I promise.” A second later and he was hugging Eri tightly, Shouta pushing himself off the wall to finally go check on Hitoshi, content that everything was just as it should be.

★★★

Hizashi had come to realize that there were some ‘cat traits’ that none of them had expected or recognized until they were obvious enough that even Eri could tell they were odd. The most recent, Hizashi had admitted to himself, was that he had the overpowering urge to drag all of their blankets and pillows into their decently sized closet and then kidnap their children to hide away when either of them looked the slightest bit overwhelmed.

It was easy enough to ignore the oddity of it when it was just Eri he was bundling up in blankets and dark spaces until she calmed down from her nightmares of bright lights and open spaces. It was harder to lie to himself that it was perfectly normal when he had kidnapped Hitoshi and currently had the teen curled up against him asleep under a couple blankets with Shouta staring down at them from the closet doorway.

“If you think about it, this could be just a normal me thing.” If Hizashi spoke first, he could curb some of the embarrassment before it really began. Hopefully. “You know, relaxing on something soft during attacks and everything.”

“In the closet,” Shouta said flatly, opening the door a bit more and raising his eyebrows when Hizashi made a disgruntled noise that even he admitted was closer to a hiss than he wanted it to be. “Is Eri in there with you?”

“Er, possibly.” Hizashi shot a glance to a bundled-up pile of blankets that were rising softly every few seconds with Eri’s gentle brerathing. “You know, hiding in closets and sleeping in the sunspots around here really isn’t the worst thing when you compare it with everything else, don’t you think?”

Shouta snorted and nudged at Hizashi’s ankles, Hizashi confused for only a moment before he grinned and shifted to free up some more room. Not even a second later Shouta was slipping into the closet and shutting the door until only a sliver of light came in, careful as he sat down while cursing under his breath, ending with a muttered, “Why do we have so many clothes?”

“Because some of us wear more than the same outfit every day, dear,” Hizashi said sweetly, biting back against a laugh as Shouta gave him a disgruntled look even as he pulled Eri into his lap, the girl completely sacked out and limp in his arms and her bundle of blankets. “Any idea what set Hitoshi off today?”

“He was fine during the training classes today,” Shouta sighed, absently braiding Eri’s wild mess of hair even as the girl began drooling on him. “It’s possible something triggered a memory for him in one of his other classes. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been pleasant considering you scent marked him the second we were home-”

“I do not scent mark our children!” Hizashi hissed, only just remembering to keep his voice quiet. “I was giving him a supportive hug at the most!” The lie was obvious even to him, but there were some things too embarrassing for even Hizashi to own up to.

“And rubbing your cheek against the top of his head just like you’ve done to me and Eri countless other times.” Shouta’s grin was far too smug and Hizashi decided that if they were granted the gift of a reincarnated life, Hizashi would find Shouta just so he could be sure the man suffered from the effects of a cat-shifting quirk as well. “Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Shouta snickered. “It’s cute.”

Curbing the urge to smother Shouta with a blanket until he stopped moving, Hizashi returned his attention to Hitoshi. The tense lines around his mouth from earlier had disappeared, face smooth and relaxed and so young as he slept soundly. When he heard a quiet laugh, Hizashi tilted his head up to look at Shouta, who was grinning at him in that besotted way that he swore he didn’t do.

“You look like a dad with his newborn when you’re looking at them sometimes,” Shouta said, as if he didn’t act the same damn way around Hitoshi and Eri every single day. “Should I worry that you’re just going to start picking them up and carrying them around everywhere?”

“Oh, as if you don’t carry Eri around every time she so much as looks at you,” Hizashi complained, immediately soothing Hitoshi’s hair down when the teen made a quiet noise and shifted and squirmed around for a few moments. “I can and will hide those jelly packets of yours, Shouta.”

“They’re nutrition pouches, first of all, and second, you know I’ll dose your morning coffee with catnip if you even try.” The threat was empty, but it still had Hizashi shuddering at the first and last time he had tried catnip on a dare from Nemuri.

Settling for giving Shouta a light kick, Hizashi settled down in his blanket crafted den with a soft sigh, smiling as he heard and felt Shouta do the same. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he was the only one left awake.

He was proven right when he heard Shouta give a tired little mumble, Hizashi biting back a laugh as he nudged Shouta’s leg with his foot, the two sitting with their backs to the side walls of their little closet. “Sorry, Starlight, but you’ll need to repeat that one.”

“It doesn’t feel real, does it?” With the way his eyes were now, Hizashi was easily able to focus on Shouta’s face in the darkness of their closet, fondness overwhelming him when he saw the sleepy eyes that were half-lidded. “Hitoshi, Eri, us… It doesn’t feel real, sometimes.”

In the way that Hizashi had always known what Shouta’s words meant, he knew what Shouta was leaving unsaid. It didn’t feel real to be so happy after so much bad had happened over their years as pros. It didn’t feel real to suddenly have a family that they loved and adored and two kids who loved them as fiercely as Hizashi and Shouta loved them back. It didn’t feel real to be so happy.

“No, it doesn’t feel real,” Hizashi agreed, lips pulling up into a smile as Shouta’s eyes fluttered shut. “But in the best possible way.” It was possible, of course, that it was always going to end up like this even without the path they had gone.

He had little doubt that it always would have ended up with Hitoshi, Eri, Shouta, and Hizashi all tangled together and sleeping after a rough day. Maybe in another life he and Shouta wouldn’t have been heroes, or Hitoshi wouldn’t have gone through as much as he did, or Eri never would have had to suffer to find the place she belonged, but…

It was all going to end where they were now. Maybe there could have been different beginnings, but Hizashi had to believe with everything in him that it was all going to end the way it was now.

Besides, even if their own beginning was difficult, Hizashi wouldn’t have changed it for anything. What fun was a world where he didn’t get to teach quirk-powered teenagers who were eager to become the next generation of heroes?

Then again, there was something to be said for normal high schools.

Hizashi had adjusted quickly to how chaotic U.A. was with his new senses and abilities, but that didn’t mean anything when even before his change he was liable to get headaches from how loud and chaotic the students he taught were - especially those in the Hero and Support courses. At least the hero students didn’t just blow things up to see what they did.

Some days, however, were cursed, and Hizashi knew when to tell if a day was cursed or not just by how the first class of his day went. The general education students were the calmest of the lot; they were supposed to be, at least. Sending three of them to Recovery Girl because a fight had broken out during class was not what he considered calm, and it only got worse as the day went on until he started teaching Shouta’s class.

“That… That’s not how proper English works, Ashido.” Hizashi was staring down at Ashido Mina’s paper in pure horror. He loved jokes and the deconstruction of language as much as the next language enthusiast, but he should not, as a teacher, have to grade an entire essay written entirely in outdated memes. “How much slang from different decades did you mix together?”

“Seven,” Ashido said proudly, puffed up and looking delightedly proud. Hizashi had to fight to not break down in either laughter or tears - especially since he wasn’t sure which one would win. “It all works in context of what you asked us to write, though, doesn’t it!”

“It really doesn’t,” Hizashi sighed, handing Ashido’s paper back to her. “Please read the notes I made before writing your next paper. Please.”

The girl huffed and snatched the paper before stomping back to her seat, Hizashi sighing as he took a moment to rub at his eyes. Maybe if he rubbed hard enough, he would go blind and never have to grade another English paper again.

“Sensei? What are we supposed to be doing again?” Slowly looking up at Sero’s voice, Hizashi was gratified to see the teen flinch. “I mean, obviously I know what we’re supposed to be doing, but, uh, what are the full… parameters? Of the assignment?”

There was an outburst of snickering at his table and Hizashi reflected on the fact that these students used to be in awe of him when they first started. He had been a celebrity to them; the famous Voice Hero Present Mic! Then again, he had changed a lot since his ‘new quirk,’ with brushed out hair tucked away in a half-bun, soft sweaters, and pants that weren’t made of leather. Ah, well. At least they still feared Shouta if Hizashi needed to scare them into behaving.

“Pick one book that’s been printed in Japanese and translate a full chapter into English. You’ll then pick a book printed in English and translate a full chapter in Japanese - and no, you cannot use the same book for both translations or use the same book by anyone else doing the assignment, which is why I had you write down two books at the start of this.”

Sero stared at him, slowly blinked, and then nodded. Hizashi already knew what was coming before he asked the question. “So, just to be sure I have everything-”

“The books you signed up for are printed on this piece of paper that has been taped to my desk for the past week.”

There was a snort of laughter from one of the brats, and Hizashi was half-certain it was from Hitoshi. The kid wasn’t looking at him, but his sense of humor was as vicious as Shouta’s when he wanted it to be.

Maybe he should just make a list of the top students in his class and tell everyone else to talk to them during open study periods. That would save him the trouble and Kaminari, he knew, would delight in being seen as one of the ones in the top of the class. Honestly, how that boy could be fluent in three languages and then walk into glass was the true mystery of Class 1-A.

“What?! You’re kidding me!” Uraraka’s exclamation had Hizashi’s ears pressing back against his head, Hizashi himself sighing and ready to scold her before he saw that she had slammed both of her hands on her desk during her outburst. The desk was already floating and halfway up towards the ceiling before she noticed.

For as amazing and brilliant as Class 1-A was, Hizashi was absolutely certain that all of them were, in some way, dumbasses.

It was a shame he couldn’t say that about them when he was on the clock, but at least the teachers agreed with him. “Uraraka-”

“Already on it, Sensei!” Uraraka beamed, touching her fingers together and seeming to forget about the fact the desk wasn’t going to gently float down as it had when going up.

It was like a train wreck, Hizashi already halfway out of his seat as the desk crashed to the floor right on an unaware Bakugou who, if Hizashi had to guess from action alone, thought he was being attacked.

Class 1-A’s English lesson ended with twenty scolded students, three destroyed desks, two detentions given out, Hizashi cradling a bruised and squished tail that was aching with pain, and five extra credit points to four students for knowing fifteen different English swear words.

After his escape, Hizashi was doing his best to not wince as Shouta wrapped his bruised and battered tail at their desks in the teacher’s lounge as Nemuri cackled over his misfortune.

“Oh, Shouta, your homeroom this year is a riot! Do you think we can weaponize them all as a force of good in the world?”

“You’re as stupid as them if you think they haven’t weaponized their stupidity already,” Shouta snorted, tightening the bandages before looking to Hizashi. “Are you sure you don’t want to see Recovery Girl?”

Hizashi shook his head, moving his tail carefully and pleased when most of the pain had already faded. “C’mon, Shou-chan, I can’t go crying to Recovery Girl when it’s just a little bruise!”

“Oh?” Nemuri purred, Hizashi glaring at her as she stepped closer. “So are we not counting the time you went running to her when you broke a nail-”

“I had a TV interview later that day and you know it!” Hizashi hissed, the sound becoming an actual hiss when Nemuri simply blew him a kiss before strutting away. “Shouta, Nemuri is being mean to me!”

“You know, when you first told me that when we were students, I thought that at the most I would only have to put up with it until Nemuri graduated,” Shouta drawled, slouching down in his seat and closing his eyes. “Should I ask Nezu if he’ll hire Tensei so we have our peacekeeper back?”

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious,” Hizashi muttered, unable to stop himself from the burst of fondness he felt as Shouta already started to drift off. “Well, at least we can always hope that things will be better in the future.”

“You think?” Shouta cracked his eyes open and gave a small smile. It was the same smile Hizashi had seen on Shouta back when they were young and had just graduated and managed to get their first apartment, both of them excited for whatever the future would bring to them. “I thought we were already there.”

Unable to help his laughter, Hizashi shook his head as he turned in his seat back to his desk, letting it sink in that they really had made it. They were a successful underground pro hero duo, they had two beautiful kids, they taught at U.A. of all places and, more important than anything else, they were happy.

The future wasn’t a bad place at all, really.

Not when the uncertainty of it all faded to show that the future was in good hands, Hizashi prouder than words could describe as he saw their students grow and learn and become stronger - better - than every dark force that was out there.

“For the last time, Nemuri, knee-length dress means that your dress must be at least knee-length,” Hizashi argued into the phone that was resting on the coffee table and on speaker, Nemuri’s whining filling up the living room as Hizashi tried to fix Shouta’s mess of a tie. “For once in your life try not to be a slut!”

“That’s impossible for her,” Hitoshi muttered, Hizashi cuffing Shouta on the head when the man looked nothing but proud. “Are ties really-”

“Yes, they are required. You and your entire class are graduating and I will make sure you look presentable if it’s the last thing I do- Nemuri. This will not be like our graduation.”

“You take all the fun out of things, Hizashi-chan. Fine! I’ll dress ‘appropriately.’ Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hot date to pick up.”

The call disconnected with a cheerful goodbye, Hizashi rolling his eyes as he finally fixed Shouta’s tie. When he looked to Hitoshi to fix his, he paused at seeing it was already done perfectly, Hitoshi responding with a shrug when Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean I don’t know how to tie one.”

Huffing a laugh, Hizashi pulled Hitoshi off the couch and gave him a quick hug and definitely not scent marking him no matter what they all said. “This is why you’re better than Shouta. Go grab your sister? If we hurry we can get there before it begins and you can be disgustingly cute with your true love.”

“As if you have any room to talk,” Hitoshi grumbled, cheeks flushed as he quickly fled to Eri’s room. It was far too cute.

Hearing Shouta come up behind him, Hizashi sighed dramatically and ‘collapsed’ backwards, laughing when Shouta gave a startled grunt before catching him. “Do you always need to be the most dramatic one in Japan at all times?”

“Part of my charm,” Hizashi winked, kissing Shouta’s cheek quickly before bounding back up. “I can’t believe Hitoshi is graduating today! It seems like it was only yesterday you dragged him home like the scruffy kitten he was.”

“I just sped things up from where he would have eventually followed me home,” Shouta waved off, wandering over towards the couch to no doubt collapse and ruin his suit. Hizashi decided that he would let Nemuri deal with him and then maybe he would learn a lesson. “How much longer until I’m rid of my class?”

Hiding a smile, Hizashi decided that one or two wrinkles wouldn’t ruin the day too badly before he was sliding into the spot next to Shouta and curling up to him, purrs rumbling out of him the moment he felt Shouta’s fingers begin stroking his ears.

“You know, it’d be easier to get rid of your students if you didn’t offer half of them internships with us,” Hizashi managed to get out, shivering at a particularly nice scratch before his tail was moving to curl around Shouta’s waist. “And the half you didn’t give internships to you made sure they had ones lined up.”

There were grumbles and mumbles of ‘doing his job’ and it was work to hide the laughter that wanted to come bursting out of him, Hizashi instead hiding his smile against Shouta’s chest. “I can hear your smugness,” Shouta complained, hand moving to stroke Hizashi’s hair and garble his reply into a series of hums and purrs.

“You know,” Hizashi managed. “I think you were on to something with the whole future is now thing, but I think you missed something even more important.”

“I did not say ‘the future is now,’” Shouta snorted, looking down at him. “Go on, then? What did I miss?”

“Well-”

“Alright, we’re ready!” Hitoshi called, Hizashi sitting up just as Hitoshi came in with Eri firmly latched onto his back and dressed adorably in one of her new dresses. “The leech isn’t letting go, though.”

There was an offended screech from Eri at being called a leech and Shouta groaned before he was nudging Hizashi off of him and going to play peacekeeper. Hizashi curled up on the couch and watched them, unable to help a burst of delight at seeing his family, safe and happy and together.

Shouta had been right in saying the future was good, but, well… the happily ever after was even better.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #erasermic #my writing #my commissions

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ettadunham · 5 years

Text

A Buffy rewatch 7x01 Lessons

aka redemption, nostalgia, and the circle of storytelling

We did it, guys! We made it to the last season! Also, hello if you’re new, and stumbled upon this without context. As usual, these impromptu text posts are the product of my fevered mind as I rant about the episode I just watched for an hour (okay, sometimes perhaps two). Anything goes!

And in today’s episode it’s the beginning of the end, as it’s relentlessly signaled towards the audience.

I’ll be honest, in the pantheon of Buffy season openers I find Lessons to be somewhat… middling. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of good stuff here, but there are parts of the main storyline that are just frustratingly inconsequential.

Let’s not beat around the bush – I’m mainly talking about Dawn’s new friends here. It’s obvious what the show is doing here, having Dawn form a friendship with two other misfit students and fighting demons on her first day of high school. We’re clearly going back to the beginnings. It’s what the Master aka the First tells us as well. Invoking the show’s very first episode and showing the next generation taking on that mantle.

(Also, that scene of the Fist appearing to Spike as all the Big Bads is still a lot. The music! Drusilla! You got me there, show. You got me right in my nostalgia feels.)

Which is a nice and cool thought. I love that. I love Dawn here. I just wish that the friends she makes actually appeared beyond this one single episode.

Imagine if one of those kids were Cassie! Or Amanda! I know that it’s tough to plan out these kinds of things, but the show’s done it in the past – or at the very least, set up a consistent group of background characters they could always go back to.

There are so many minor characters all over the Buffyverse, who were plucked out of that canvas and had their own little arcs through a few cameos. Think of Chantarelle, Amy, Harmony, or even Jonathan. And these characters weren’t set up to have as big of a role as they eventually got; the writers just saw an opportunity to develop them.

Meanwhile we’ve got these two kids, who this episode codes as part of our new Scooby gang. And we never see them again.

That’s just a bummer.

And it takes away a lot from the main action for me. Again, I like the idea of doing this, going back to high school as the beginning of a new cycle, where life as a teenager is hell… But I also wish I was more invested in the fate of these kids beyond Dawn.

On the plus side, I’m definitely a fan of Prinicipal Wood, and his lack of subtlety when it comes to his involvement with the supernatural. He’s like dropping hints that he knows what’s up, instead of just straight up telling Buffy that his mom was a Slayer. So is it any wonder that it’s getting picked up as shady on Buffy’s end?

He’s doing his best though, guys!! He’s got a lot of mommy issues. Give him a break.

Spike too has his own issues (which we’ll talk about in relation to Robin too). It’s a stark contrast, seeing a newly ensouled Spike here, laughing maniacally at Buffy asking him if he’s real. So are the cuts on his chest, marking his attempts at trying to cut his own heart out.

I don’t feel adequate enough to talk about that in depth. This is self-harm territory. But there’s also obviously something very specific about Spike trying to get at his own heart too in a metaphoric sense. Sure, through the heart is one of the ways a vampire can be killed, but he didn’t try to stake himself.

Spike’s a romantic. It’s one of his core traits that’s followed him through all of his incarnations. Even as a soulless vampire, he was a romantic. Except then, that side of him became twisted. As he was incapable of experiencing love in its entirety, this alter ego of his focused on what was left. Dependence. Obsession. Possession.

Spike as a vampire also reveled in his passions, and so to him violence, sex and love were all the same. They all came from the same place.

It’s no wonder then that the first thing Spike does after getting his soul back is to try and get rid of his heart. The thing that made him do all those things, even before he became a vampire.

Discussing redemption on Buffy is interesting to me, because this isn’t the show where that’s a central motive. Those stories happen over at Angel.

So, from that perspective, seeing how Willow’s story is handled here makes complete sense to me.

You know, I’ve read the hot takes about how Willow should be facing more consequences for her actions. But let me ask you this: what could possibly be worse for Willow than losing Tara?

Here’s another: how would punishing her be helpful?

And if your answer is “because murder should be punished because we live in a society”, that’s a good point. It is indeed how most of our society functions. For a reason.

But the show has been proposing for many seasons now, that normal societal rules don’t always apply in Buffy’s world. As a result, Buffy herself is positioned as the one with the power to decide how to handle any situation. Something that Faith already tells her in season 3; but Buffy rejects that idea then. At that time, she hasn’t even severed her ties with the Council yet, and was unprepared for that level of responsibility.

The Buffy of season 7 however not only recognizes her power, but embraces it. She is the law.

Which means that she can set her own principals and examples outside of society. And you can call Buffy self-righteous or whatever anyway you want, but she was never one for punishments.

Buffy always protects. If there’s a threat, she fights it, and if it’s neutralized, she lets it go. That’s why she never killed Spike after he was chipped. That’s why she didn’t kill Ben.

Buffy’s not vindictive and gives everyone the chance to grow; and in turn, so does the show.

“But… what about Faith?” – you say, predictably. I of course knew you were gonna bring her up. Mostly because you are currently just a voice in my head, arguing with my much more advanced logic.

Ah, yes. Let’s talk about Faith.

Specifically, let’s talk Faith in Consequences.

Hey, remember Consequences? The episode in which Buffy is trying to make Faith face up to her actions while also protecting her? The one where they argue about them being the law, and Buffy rejecting that specifically because Faith posits that they shouldn’t take responsibility for what they do?

More importantly, I want to emphasize this: with the gang, Buffy argues for Faith. She may not have quite embraced her role here yet as the law, but it’s clear where her head is at. She even asks for Angel’s help to keep Faith from becoming a threat.

Faith of course has her own set of issues that pushes her over to the dark side, but that doesn’t become evident for a few more episodes to the rest of the group. And I’d argue that it’s largely due to Buffy that Faith is even welcomed back for that short period of time.

Of course, comparing that to Willow’s murder is still not a good fit. Faith killed someone by accident at that point. Willow was going on a vengeance trip.

So let’s fast-forward to season 4. Where Faith wakes up and the gang doesn’t know how to deal with her.

Now, I criticized Buffy’s approach there, saying that she only seems to be preparing for two options here. Faith is either still a threat that needs to be dealt with, or she regrets her actions, in which case, there’s nothing to worry about.

Faith’s state of mind is of course a bit more complicated than that in the episode, but notice something important. Buffy doesn’t want to fight or punish Faith if it’s not necessary, even though at this point, she definitely did more than enough murder. When they meet, she tells her so. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”

And for Buffy, that’s genuinely true.

After what goes down, Buffy’s pissed at Faith though. And yet we only see that side of Buffy on Angel the series. Where redemption for Faith becomes a central conflict, and one that’s ultimately resolved by her taking responsibility for her actions, and giving herself up to the police. A justice system that’s operating under normal societal rules.

And for Faith’s arc, that works. Part of her ongoing struggle was facing up and dealing with what she’s done, so this gave her the opportunity.

That however, isn’t always the case. Mostly because prison systems overall are largely unhelpful in actually rehabilitating people, but that’s a hot take for another day.

Narratively of course we still want that sense of fulfillment. We want to see the characters we love redeem themselves, and we want to be satisfied that it’s earned. But for me, that’s there with Willow as much as it’s there with Faith. It’s just that beyond the difference in thematic approach between the shows, their arcs just aren’t a one-to-one comparison.

Willow isn’t in denial about what she’s done. And she’s been dealt enough punishment as it is, even if it wasn’t any consequence of her own actions. By societal rules, she should be in prison, but because Buffy operates outside of those, Willow instead gets to have help, support and lessons.

And that’s kind of fascinating.

GILES: “Do you want to be punished?” WILLOW: “I wanna be Willow.”

I haven’t talked about Dawn nearly enough, but just know that I love her.

That is all.

#buffy rewatch 2k19 #btvs talk #btvs

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angelofthenightposts · 7 years

Text

The Perfect Dad.

Bill and the reader take childbirth class

More of Bill Skarsgard.

You're pregnant, but it's not the cute kind of "Oh, I'm pregnant, but my belly isn't that big, and I can still fit into my jeans." No, you're in the third trimester, and it's worse than the first two. Yes, the morning sickness and nausea are gone, but you now have swollen ankles, painful backaches, and strange cravings. During your pregnancy, you became more curious, and with maternity leave, you could spend your entire time reading parenting books or shopping online. The baby has more clothes than you and Bill have in your walk-in closet combined. You've always been eager to learn new things since you were a child, but now it's more important than ever.

If you want to be a good mother, you must know every detail about pregnancy and parenthood, or so you believe. You open a new tab in your laptop's browser and type in the website that your heavily pregnant friend suggested you look at. As you scroll down the page, Bill enters the living room carrying two mugs of green tea. It was a bummer when you realized you had to give up a lot of things for your baby, and one of them was coffee. Your OB-GYN informed you that there is no harm in enjoying a cup of green tea, and you and Bill have used it to satisfy your caffeine addiction.

“Bill, baby, look what I found.” You tell him as he places the mugs on the table and leans over your left shoulder, kissing your temple. He raises his eyebrows at the screen; it's a page about childbirth classes, with detailed course content ranging from pregnant yoga to baby care. He takes a sip and smiles as he points to a picture of pregnant women doing yoga.

“Oh cool, it says here that they can help you with back pain. I think you should book it, yeah.”

“You're joining me.” You respond before getting a big sip from your own cup.

“Well, I don't think I need to learn anything new. I grew up with a large number of siblings. I can take you there-“ He pauses in mid-sentence; with pregnancy, you become a hot-tempered and stubborn person, and you start bickering about unimportant things that you didn't care about before. And right now, when you snap your head at Bill, he knows better than to say anything else. He averts his gaze and says, "When can we begin?"

//xxx//

You enter through the door your husband has held open for you, and Bill follows you in, sighing and looking around. The blue and pink colors appear to have been vomited at the walls. Every wall is covered in baby posters and pregnancy tutorial banners. He locks his gaze on you, as he wants to see if you feel the same way about the location as he does. And the similar expression on your face makes him sure that you do.

“Welcome to Joy in Birthing, and my name is Jessica.” This stagey, cheerful sound breaks your telepathic bond, and you both turn your heads to look at her. She is a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with a big smile on her face, as if everything is fine or she has no emotions other than happiness. She turns to look at your belly, which is hidden beneath a t-shirt with a funny pregnancy pun. “How is our lovely mother doing today?”

She hands you some papers to sign shortly after you inform her that you are here for the course. She receives the papers and offers you new t-shirts with the company logo printed on them. You both smile politely at her and grab the shirts to put on over your clothes. She leads you to the large room and tells you that you made a wise decision. You thank her and look around the room, which is packed with pregnant women and their partners. You're not sure why, but it feels like a race to see who can make the most beautiful baby; Bill intertwines your hands and you can tell he's nervous as well. As he helps you in sitting on the colorful cushions on the floor, you notice that there are quite a few eyes on you two; they most likely recognize who your husband is. Instead of wondering how so many of them managed to stay skinny, you begin to read the brochure in your hand. Bill, on the other hand, sits next to you and keeps his gaze away from the other people in the room; he doesn't want to be here today. He puffs out his cheeks and fixes his gaze on the breastfeeding poster on the wall.

“Baby, stop pouting like a child. Remember, we're here for our child?” You tell him that you're sure there's something he can learn today. But he insists that he knows everything there is to know about children because he grew up in a large family with many siblings. “I just want to make sure we don't hurt him.”

He tilts his head and looks at you; your hand rests on your belly, and your eyes are already welling up. He bites his bottom lip and realizes you are in one of those states where emotions and hormones are running high.

“We are not going to hurt our child, baby,” he says as he leans in and places his hand on top of yours. “I assure you that we will not. Plus, do you remember how good we are at babysitting my niece?” You want to tell him that it isn't the same thing, but before you can say anything, a middle-aged woman who you later learn is an instructor enters and greets everyone.

“Hello and welcome all of you! Before we start, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Evelyn. Thank you all for coming to our class today and congratulations on your pregnancy.” She briefly discusses the course details before taking her seat in front of the projector's large screen. “I'd like to begin by discussing the early stages of pregnancy. “She starts talking about body changes and hormones, which quickly bores Bill and causes him to sigh. He isn't here to find out where the babies come from, but you listen to every word as if you hadn't been researching for months.

"Moms have difficulty moving with their weight and experience pain. And it is the spouse's responsibility to alleviate the pain. I'd like you to sit across from our lovely mothers. Let us begin by massaging the feet, which bear the entire weight of the body." You quickly remove your sneakers and smile at your husband, who is accustomed to giving you massage. Before he smiles, he places your left foot on his knee.

"I could do it at home anyway," he says as he presses his hand against the middle of your foot, "We didn't have to come here." You shush him; he despises being shushed, but there is no other way for him to stop whining.

Bill is now sitting next to you after about twenty minutes of massaging different areas of your body. You turn your head and see that he is still uncomfortable with the birth video you all just watched, and the expression on his face makes you laugh, you place a small kiss on his left cheek. He moves the corner of his lips upwards as he averts his gaze to look at you.

“New parents who are expecting their first child are always nervous at first. I know some of you feel unprepared to care for a baby. So we'll be working with this toy baby now." Evelyn lifts a cardboard box containing toy dolls and gives one to each couple sitting on the floor. While you examine the clothes and other items in the package, Bill stares at the horrifying baby. He lifts the doll and mutters, "Creepy." You laugh and roll your eyes at his antics, taking the baby from his grasp and placing it in your lap. He is correct, however; it appears so realistic for a toy, and if that isn't enough to freak you out, it has those huge dull blue eyes.

” Do we have a confident father to come here and set an example for the others?” There is complete silence; no one makes a sound, and you look at your husband. You know he's a good babysitter and is generally self-assured in everything he does. His eyes are challenged by yours, and he shrugs before volunteering. Evelyn invites him and Bill winks at you as he stands up and walks away.

He and Evelyn demonstrate how to properly hold and feed the baby to others. And the more Evelyn compliments him, the smugger Bill becomes. He even gives you a look that says, "See, I told you." It's time to learn how to change a diaper, and Evelyn tells Bill to put the toy back on the changing table. He nods and does as he is instructed. But after a few seconds of attempting to take its onesie, he fails, and you can tell he's frustrated. With that, he does something that makes everyone in the room hold their breath: he drops the baby doll to the floor. He timidly apologizes to the class before picking it up. As he looks around the room, you give him a thumb up. Something about his demeanor shifts; he no longer appears to be as confident and cool, and you frown at him. He looks over the table, his gaze wandering to the baby cloth, baby powder, and wet wipes. He shakes his head and tries to regain control of his mind while trying to remember the instructions; he pulls out one of the wet wipes.

“We'd rather wipe the poop this way, Bill. Inadequate cleaning can lead to infection or worse.” Evelyn takes the wet wipes and shows Bill and the others how to use them properly; he watches carefully and then moves on to the next step, which is dressing the baby back. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't get his leg into the onesie hole. Normally, he would take care of his nieces and nephews easily but now he is beginning to doubt himself. Perhaps he isn't an expert, he reasoned to himself. What will happen if he has to care for your child? What if he injures your child while dressing him?

“Do you want me to assist you?” Evelyn's question snaps him back to reality, and he shakes his head no. He's got this, it's simple, he thinks. He takes a deep breath and tries again. But he must have used a lot of force because the toy's plastic leg breaks apart. When someone in the audience boos him, he looks at you, the most important person in the room.

“I'm sorry, but I can't.” He begins to walk to the exit, unconcerned about the people in the crowd. He walks past you, and you gather your belongings, such as jackets and water bottles, and leave the classroom after Bill.

You find him sitting on a bench outside the building, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his palms. You suck your bottom lip and take small steps up to your husband.

”Bill, baby, are you all right?”

“Sorry for embarrassing you in class.” He tells you as you sit next to him, but he keeps his gaze away from you on purpose.

You frown and press your hand against his knee. “What are you on about?”

He rolls his eyes and turns to face you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was a complete failure back then. How can I care for our baby when I can't even handle a doll? Our son will hate me."

"Bill, please don't say things like that. What has just happened does not imply that you will be a bad father. Don't be too hard on yourself because you dropped a stupid toy.” He sucks in a shaky breath, almost as if about to cry, and it makes your eyes well up as well. Your thumb caresses the soft skin of his left cheek as you cup his pouting face. His green eyes finally meet yours, and you give him the most reassuring smile you can possibly manage. “You will be an excellent father. Our son is extremely fortunate to have you as a father."

"Do you really believe that?" Finally, a small smile appears on his lips, and you kiss him.

“Can we have ice cream now that our perfect daddy is feeling better? I'm craving something sweet." He grabs the bag and strokes your belly with the other hand before nodding and standing up. He feels stupid for believing he'd be a bad father. He has a wife and a son to cherish until the end of his days. He hopes they will love him as much as he loves them.

#bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard #billskarsgard #bill skarsgård x reader

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nanenna · 7 years

Text

Mystery Machine Mishap!

Chapter 1: A Phone Call

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Fandom: Undertale Rating: General Audiences Pairing: None Summary: There was an accident at the Lab and now Papyrus is left trying to take care of Sans as a toddler while Alphys tries to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. To say Papyrus is unprepared is not just an understatement, it's downright fact. But Papyrus is determined to be the best big brother ever, even better than Sans is when he's the older on.

As usual, also available to read on fanfiction.net or AO3 under the same name. (links not included because that messes with the search function)

It all started with a phone call from Undyne. She told Papyrus that Alphys had called her to say that something had happened at the Lab and she needed Papyrus to go there right away.

“WOWIE, REALLY? BUT WHY WOULD DR. ALPHYS NEED ME AT THE LAB? I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW SHE KNEW WHO I WAS. WHAT AM I SAYING, OF COURSE SHE KNOWS OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! BUT STILL… WHY DOES SHE NEED ME?”

“I don’t know,” Undyne replied, “but I’m coming too! I’ll meet you there!” There was a click followed by silence.

Papyrus put his phone away before taking off in a sprint. He was in Snowdin re-calibrating his puzzles when he got the phone call, so he was about as far away from the Lab in Hotland as you could get, but Papyrus would go to any length for a friend in need! Well, for a friend of a friend.

Papyrus slowed to a jog as the Lab came into sight, Undyne standing in front of it wearing causal clothes and sipping from a paper cup. “UNDYNE!” Papyrus called, “DO YOU KNOW WHY DR. ALPHYS CALLED US YET?”

“No, I was waiting for you. Let’s head in.” Undyne chugged the last of her water, then walked confidently into the Lab with Papyrus trailing behind. “Alphys? We’re here!”

“U-up here,” Alphys called from her room.

“YES, WE HAVE INDEED ARRIVED,” Papyrus boisterously called as they walked up the escalator. “AND WE EAGERLY AWAIT YOU TO INFORM US OF WHY WE ARE NEEDED.”

There was a squeal, then the pitter patter of tiny little feet running towards them. “Oh my goodness!” Alphys cried in alarm. “Quick, catch him!”

“daddy!” A tiny skeleton child wearing nothing at all ran straight into Papyrus’s legs and clung to him excitedly. Papyrus and Undyne both looked down at the child in confusion.

“You uh… got something you forgot to tell me about?” Undyne asked with a raised brow.

“I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT I DO NOT HAVE ANY CHILDREN, THERE MUST BE SOME CONFUSION.”

Alphys came huffing towards them with a few pieces of familiar clothes in her arms while Papyrus picked the giggling child up and held them in front of him. “HELLO, LITTLE ONE, WHO ARE YOU?” The child was small, with big, round eye sockets that contained equally big, round, bright pupils, a fixed smile, and short, stubby limbs.

“daddy!” The child squealed again while reaching for Papyrus’s face.

Papyrus obligingly hugged the child close as he turned his attention to Alphys and the clothes in her arms. “WHOSE CHILD IS THIS? AND IS THAT SANS’S HOODIE? IS HE HERE? IS THAT WHY YOU CALLED US?”

“Oh, uh… well y-you see uh… that ch-ch-child is Sans.”

Papyrus and Undyne stared blankly at Alphys while the child in Papyrus’s arms looked up at him in confusion.

“What do you mean this kid is Sans?” Undyne asked as she looked the little skeleton over.

“not daddy!” Sans suddenly wailed, great big tears welled up in his eye sockets and dripped down his face, which was quickly turning red.

“WELL OF COURSE I’M NOT DADDY, SANS,” Papyrus responded in confusion as he held the child out to get a better look at him. Sans squirmed and kicked in his brother’s grasp. “IT’S ME, YOUR BABY BROTHER… THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

“daaaaaaaaaaddiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!” Sans wailed even louder as he kicked and thrashed. Papyrus’s grip started to slip, so Undyne reached over and plucked the squirming child from his grasp.

She expertly hoisted him on her hip and began rocking back and forth as she cooed at Sans. “Shhh… I know… I know… it’s really scary, huh? A bunch of strangers who are talking around you like you aren’t even here. Don’t worry, kid, we aren’t gonna hurt ya.”

“HE DOESN’T RECOGNIZE ME?” Papyrus asked as he turned his attention back to Alphys and wrung his hands in worry.

“He doesn’t recognize anyone, I think he lost his memories when he uh… when the accident… when he got turned into a baby???”

“Hey Sans, how old are you?” Undyne asked as she looked down at the still sobbing but much quieter child. He shyly held up two fingers before hiding his face in her shirt. “Wow, two whole years!” Undyne said in a soft voice as she continued to sway back and forth. “That’s so big!” She turned her attention to Papyrus and Alphys. “So he likely only has the memories he had way back then, right? Paps, how much older is Sans than you?”

“FOUR YEARS OLDER, WHY? OH WAIT… OH...” Papyrus looked down at the still upset toddler. “I WASN’T EVEN BORN YET WHEN HE WAS TWO.”

“So Alph, how did this even happen?”

Alphys started wringing the blue hoodie in her hands, “W-well Sans was helping me with some stuff that was left behind when the previous Royal Scientist uh… left? There were a lot of machines and blueprints and half finished projects left laying around and I was trying to move it all around and uh… o-organize things I guess and Sans was… he was helping me. A-anyway! I found some blueprints and notes that looked like a machine that was actually right there but all the old scientist’s notes are in some kind of code so we were trying to decode it while we were looking over the machine and uh… th-th-then it accidentally activated. W-with Sans ins-s-side.” She gestured helplessly at the toddler. “And uh… he came out like that.”

“ARE YOU SURE THIS LITTLE BABYBONES IS MY BROTHER?” Papyrus asked worriedly.

“Of c-course I’m sure! I Checked him first thing!”

“OH! OF COURSE!” Papyrus turned away to hide a faint dusting of pink on his cheekbones, it was also the perfect opportunity to do a Check of his own. The toddler’s name was indeed Sans, and the description was the same one as always… until a second line was added. Odd, but it still confirmed what Alphys said.

A quiet, muffled, “want daddy,” came from Undyne’s side.

Undyne started rubbing his back, “Yeah, I don’t blame ya kid. But you know what? We got the next best thing, your big brother Papyrus.”

Alphys snorted and Papyrus stared blankly at Undyne, “WHAT?”

“Well, you are bigger than him, aren’t ya?” Undyne hefted Sans higher and angled her body so he was closer to Papyrus. She turned her attention back to Sans, “You love your big brother, right?”

Sans looked Papyrus over shyly. “big bruvvuh?” He asked as he shoved a thumb into his teeth.

“THAT’S RIGHT, YOUR BIG BROTHER THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

Sans still seemed unsure, but he did at least stop hiding his face in Undyne’s side as he looked Papyrus over more critically. Undyne shifted so Sans was being offered to Papyrus, “Here, take him.”

Papyrus held his arms out and Sans let himself be handed over. Once that was done Undyne expertly shifted Papyrus’s hold until she was satisfied.

“You s-sure seem to know what you’re doing,” Alphys commented.

“Perk of being the head of the Royal Guard, lots of little fans following you around.”

“SO NOW THAT SANS HAS CALMED DOWN, WHAT DO WE DO?”

“W-well, I should be able t-to decipher the blueprints and notes for the machine we were looking at, once that’s done I should be able to figure out what when wrong and h-hopefully reverse this.”

“WELL THAT CERTAINLY IS A RELIEF. I SUPPOSE UNTIL THEN I SHALL HAVE TO BE THE BIGGER BROTHER AND TAKE CARE OF SANS.” Papyrus looked down at the sleepy toddler.

“Yeah! You’re gonna be the best big brother, I can feel it!” Undyne slapped Papyrus’s back unusually gently, he barely had to step forward to keep from toppling over.

“H-here, you should probably have Sans’s th-things.” Alphys offered up the clothes she had been holding, which Papyrus neatly tucked into his inventory save for the hoodie, which was instead carefully wrapped around Sans.

“THANK YOU, DR. ALPHYS. I SHALL TAKE THIS BABYBONES HOME NOW, LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE REPAIRED THE MYSTERIOUS MACHINE YOU WERE WORKING ON WITH SANS, WHO I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU KNEW.”

The journey back to Snowdin was uneventful, the motion of walking apparently lulling the toddler into a doze. The sound of the door closing must have woke him, as the moment they were inside Sans perked up and looked around. “daddy! daddy we home!” he called at the top of his lungs. Papyrus looked down in surprise while Sans’s head whipped back and forth. “daddy! where daddy?” Sans turned to Papyrus and tugged on his scarf, “pappus, where daddy?”

Papyrus’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his orbits wide and threatening to spill the tears gathered in their corners. “DADDY… ISN’T HOME RIGHT NOW,” he eventually managed to choke out. What he said was technically true: their father wasn’t home at the moment and very likely wouldn’t be. Papyrus tried no to think about it as he carried Sans into the kitchen. “ARE YOU HUNGRY? I HAVE SOME SPAGHETTI I CAN HEAT UP.”

“skeddi!” Sans excitedly squealed, making Papyrus very glad he didn’t have any ears.

Papyrus carefully set Sans down on the edge of the table with his little feet hanging over the edge. “NOW YOU JUST STAY RIGHT THERE WHILE I GET THE SPAGHETTI READY.” Papyrus pulled his freshest container from the fridge and started heating it up. There was a muffled thump followed by giggling fading behind him. He whipped around, the table was empty. He looked down, Sans’s hoodie was a rumpled pile on the floor. He ran into the living room, Sans was waiting for him at the other end of the room and giggled again before taking off diagonally from Papyrus. The taller skeleton quickly darted towards the fleeing toddler and scooped him up. Sans giggled and squirmed while Papyrus sighed in relief and headed back into the kitchen. After some imaginative juggling, Papyrus managed to get a plate of warmed up spaghetti set out on the table and sat himself in a chair with Sans sitting on the table in front of him.

“skeddi!” Sans squealed in delight as Papyrus held a loaded fork up to his mouth. The anticipated pasta barely touched Sans’s teeth before he turned his head and tried to push Papyrus’s hand away. “yucky! no!”

“YUCKY?” Papyrus repeated in shock. “BUT YOU LOVE MY SPAGHETTI!”

“no!” Sans declared again. “yuck! no! no! no!” Sans squirmed out of Papyrus’s hold and crawled to the other side of the table, where he crossed his arms in a huff and refused to look at Papyrus.

After a few more failed attempts to get Sans to eat, Papyrus set the spaghetti aside and rifled through the cabinets. Children were picky, and tastes changed as you got older, so maybe this little version of Sans would rather have something a little simpler than his artisan spaghetti. Aha! Papyrus found the item he was looking for and kept a careful eye on the fussy toddler while he prepped it. Sans kept trying to sneakily glance at Papyrus by twisting his whole body around and quickly looking away with arms crossed whenever Papyrus caught him.

“LOOK SANS,” Papyrus cheerfully said as he moved in front of the pouting toddler and held up a spoon, “DINOSAUR EGGS! DON’T THOSE SOUND YUMMY?” He held up the spoon to Sans’s mouth, but Sans didn’t seem so sure. To prove his point Papyrus stuck the spoon between his own teeth. “MMM… MMMMM… DELICIOUS! IT’S MY FAVORITE! AND IF SOMETHING IS A FAVORITE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS THEN IT MUST BE YUMMY, RIGHT?” He scooped up another spoonful and held it out to Sans.

Sans cautiously leaned forward and took the bite. The reaction was less extreme than the spaghetti, but his face still scrunched up and he turned his head away. “yucky!”

“SANS, PLEASE! JUST EAT! THE OATMEAL!”

“no! is yucky!” Sans squirmed away from Papyrus, who continued trying to put the spoon in front of Sans’s teeth until Sans slipped from the table and took off running. Papyrus sighed, then put down the bowl and spoon to go give chase.

Once the toddler was captured again, and kicking fussily, Papyrus cheerfully walked back into the kitchen. “THAT’S ALRIGHT, SANS. I KNOW SMALL CHILDREN CAN BE PICKY EATERS. I’M SURE WE HAVE SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE YOU WOULD BE WILLING TO EAT.” A search of the cupboards, the pantry, and the refrigerator belied Papyrus’s optimism. Aside from the box of oatmeal the only food they had in the house were ingredients for spaghetti. Sans’s half of the fridge only had an empty chisps bag, which Papyrus finally just threw away in frustration.

“pappus, hungie.” Sans squirmed in Papyrus’s hold, his face scrunched up and his permanent grin looking strained.

“WELL, YOU CAN EAT MY GOURMET SPAGHETTI OR YOU CAN EAT SOME DINOSAUR EGGS, BECAUSE THAT IS ALL WE HAVE IN THE HOUSE.” Papyrus smiled down at Sans, who only replied by pouting. Papyrus sighed, of course Sans would be difficult no matter his age. “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO EAT, THEN?” Before Sans could answer, Papyrus’s phone started ringing. They both jumped at the loud, jaunty ring tone and Papyrus struggled to pull it out without dropping his brother in the process. “YES, HELLO?” Papyrus answered without even bothering to check the caller ID.

“Hey Paps!” Undyne’s voice erupted from the phone. “Just calling to find out how you and the squirt are doing.”

“WE ARE DOING FINE, REALLY. ASIDE FROM MY BROTHER REFUSING TO EAT, THAT IS. HOW DOES ONE MAKE A FUSSY TODDLER EAT WHEN HE SAYS HE IS HUNGRY BUT REFUSES ALL FORMS OF SUSTENANCE?”

“Refusing to eat, huh? Then he’s not hungry enough!” Undyne yelled.

“W-wait… w-w-what?!” Could be heard faintly in the background.

“Just keep him distracted for a while,” Undyne continued loudly, “and when he’s hungry enough he’ll eat. Don’t let the kid trick you into thinking he needs candy!”

“Undyne, it’s uh… it’s not good to let someone with l-low HP go with-without food. I mean… it’s a-a-actually kinda dangerous.”

“WAIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S DANGEROUS?” Papyrus asked in worry as he looked down at the toddler perched on his hip.

Alphys seemed to have taken the phone from Undyne because her voice was much clearer as she explained, “You know how monster food replenishes your HP? Well, if you go too long without eating your HP starts to fall and if you have l-low HP you don’t have far for it to f-fall before um… it gets dangerous.” Papyrus ran a quick Check over Sans.

Sans – ATK 1 DEF 3 HP 19/20 Your lazy big brother who isn’t so big anymore.

Papyrus gasped, “I’M SORRY ALPHYS I HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW BYE!” Papyrus quickly ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket, then turned and ran for the front door. He opened it and stared at the snow, then glanced down at the still naked toddler perched on his hip. Papyrus turned and ran back into the kitchen, picked up the fallen hoodie, wrapped it around Sans again, then ran back to the front door and out it.

“pappus, where we going?”

“WE’RE GOING TO GET YOU SOMETHING TO EAT!” Papyrus slammed open the door to Grillby’s and power walked up to the bar, behind which Grillby was polishing a glass as the regulars lounged in their usual spots.

“……… Papyrus,” Grillby started to say as said skeleton reached the bar and held the toddler up to him.

“GRILLBY FOR SOME WEIRD REASONS SANS REALLY LIKES YOUR GREASY FOOD AND I CAN’T GET HIM TO EAT AND HE’S GOT LOW HP SO NOT EATING IS REALLY DANGEROUS FOR HIM DR. ALPHYS JUST TOLD ME SO AND I’M REALLY WORRIED SO PLEASE CAN YOU JUST FEED HIM SOMETHING PLEASE!”

Grillby’s flames flared up, then darkened to a deep red as he stared at the round faced toddler shoved towards him. “… Papyrus, did Sans have… a child?” Sans was looking up at the fire elemental curiously.

“NO!” Papyrus insisted as he held Sans even closer to Grillby, Sans ducked his head and was trying to hide his face. “THIS IS SANS.”

“…………………………………. what?”

“THIS IS SANS. THERE WAS AN ACCIDENT AT THE LAB WITH DR. ALPHYS AND SANS GOT TURNED INTO A TODDLER AND HE WON’T EAT! DR. ALPHYS SAYS IT’S REALLY DANGEROUS FOR MONSTERS WITH LOW HP TO NOT EAT! AND WHILE HIS HP IS ACTUALLY HIGHER THAN IT’S BEEN IN A LONG TIME, TWENTY IS STILL REALLY, REALLY LOW. AND HE JUST WON’T! EAT! PLEASE, HE LIKES YOUR FOOD!”

Grillby looked down at Sans, who squirmed uncomfortably before shooting him a shy glance. The rest of the bar had gone silent, every last patron staring at the unusual scene with blatant interest. Grillby put a hand on one of Papyrus’s and pushed Sans back towards his brother. “……… have a seat.” Without another word Grillby turned and walked through the fire exit.

Papyrus sat down on one of the bar stools and pulled little Sans into his lap. Next to them Red leaned over to get a better look at the little bundle of bones. “Is that really Sans?”

Sans shyly hid his face in Papyrus’s chest, one orbit angled to peek at the bird monster. “OF COURSE THIS IS SANS,” Papyrus said confidently.

One of the Dogi walked over to Papyrus’s other side and tried to discreetly sniff over Papyrus’s shoulder.

“Can I hold him?” Red asked as they leaned in closer to look at Sans. A couple more of the dog guards moved to crowd around Papyrus and sniff at Sans. The toddler whined and burrowed even further into his brother’s chest, Papyrus adjusted the hoodie to better cover Sans and gently rubbed up and down his spine.

“I DON’T THINK THAT’D BE A GOOD IDEA RIGHT NOW,” Papyrus replied as he began sweating. “MY BROTHER HAS HAD A VERY LONG DAY...”

Grillby returned with a plate piled high with steak cut french fries drizzled in ketchup. He set the plate down in front of Papyrus and then glared at the other patrons until they stopped crowding the skeletons. The smell seemed to be enough to rouse Sans from his hiding post, once he saw the plate of deep fried potatoes he eagerly grabbed the nearest handful and shoved them into his teeth, getting ketchup all over his hands, face, and Papyrus’s lap.

“SANS, NO!” Papyrus lifted Sans away from the bar top, aghast at the mess that had somehow gotten smeared on either side of the plate. There were titters from around the bar.

“……… I apologize, I don’t have any child friendly food on the menu.”

“Grillby says he doesn’t get a lot of kids in here,” Red supplied as they hid more giggles behind a wing.

Papyrus was taking a napkin to Sans as he eagerly tried to snatch more fries. “THAT IS UNDERSTANDABLE, I’M JUST GLAD THAT SANS IS ACTUALLY EATING.” He settled Sans back in his lap, but pushed the plate out of the toddler’s reach before grabbing a fry and feeding his brother himself. Papyrus managed to work through half the plate, alternating between holding individual fries up to Sans and trying to wipe up the mess Sans somehow made during his brief attempt to feed himself. Now fed, Sans seemed much more alert and kept trying to crawl up onto the bar.

Grillby took the plate away, then came back with a to-go bag. Papyrus started feeling about his pockets for his wallet, while he was distracted Sans finally managed to climb up onto the bar, the hoodie slipping off him in the process.

“I’M SORRY, MR. GRILLBY, I DON’T SEEM TO HAVE MY-” Papyrus looked up to see Sans slowly toddling across the bar towards Grillby, who was blazing bright white and yellow while holding his hands up as if unsure whether to catch Sans or not. Papyrus lunged across the bar and grabbed Sans before he could reach Grillby, then pulled him back. Sans shrieked and started struggling, then just broke down into wailing sobs when Papyrus held him close. “I’M SO SORRY, MR. GRILLBY! I DON’T KNOW WHAT SANS WAS THINKING!”

Grillby tried to speak, but his soft voice was drowned out by Sans’s continued wailing. “It’s okay,” Red cut in. “He’ll just add it to Sans’s tab.”

Grillby nodded and pushed the to-go bag closer to Papyrus, who took the bag and tucked it into his inventory before wrapping Sans up in his hoodie once more. He really would need to find something to actually put Sans in if the toddler was going to keep insisting on running around. Papyrus nodded to Grillby, then cuddled Sans close as he carried the still weeping toddler out of the bar.

Once home, Papyrus looked down at Sans: large tears running down his round cheeks, ketchup and fry grease all over his face and hands, new stains added to the old ones on Sans’s favorite hoodie. Papyrus sighed, a bath was definitely needed, and some sort of clothing that wouldn’t keep falling off. He held Sans close and rubbed his spine gently as he walked up the stairs and into Sans’s room. Papyrus stopped dead and looked around at the usual mess: the trash tornado, the pile of dirty socks, the half made bed… this was no place for a toddler.

“piew!” Sans whined as he looked around the room.

“PEW INDEED!” Papyrs agreed as he turned and walked right back out. “PERHAPS YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS ONCE YOU’RE THE PROPER AGE AGAIN AND WILL ACTUALLY TAKE CARE OF YOUR ROOM.”

Sans sniffled, then rubbed his face against Papyrus’s battle body. Papyrus sighed, it was already covered in toddler tears and ketchup, may as well add brotherly slime to the list. He’d have to properly wash it after all this abuse. Perhaps he would wear something else until Alphys fixed the weird machine that did all this?

He carried Sans into his own room, Sans immediately perked up. His pupils glittered as he took in the bookcase full of children’s books and advanced manuals, the table covered in action figures, the race car bed, just how much cleaner it was. Papyrus opened his closet and started digging through it. Not that any of his clothes would be better sized to fit the toddler, but it was better than trying to dig through Sans’s room. Eventually he found a tank top that he had cropped and modified to say “Good to the Bone” by crossing out “Bad” and writing in “Good” in permanent marker. He held it up to Sans, it would be rather large for a shirt, but the lack of sleeves and short length meant it could be a dress. He also went digging though one of his dresser drawers and eventually came up with a single lime green ribbon and a blue scarf with an orange fish pattern on it. They would have to do.

“YOU READY FOR A BATH, BIG MONSTER?” Papyrus asked Sans, who seemed unsure. Eventually Sans nodded shyly, so Papyrus carried him into the bathroom, carefully shut the door, then deposited Sans on the floor and the clothes on the counter so he could start filling the tub with warm, soapy water. “ALRIGHT SANS, IN YOU GO!”

Once in the water, Sans immediately started giggling and splashing. He was so delighted that he squirmed out of Papyrus’s grasp whenever he tried to clean the toddler. Eventually, after about half the water in the tub got splashed onto Papyrus, the floor, or both, Sans was completely clean. Papyrus pulled him out of the tub, dried him off, then attempted to dress him. Getting the shirt on Sans was actually pretty easy, keeping it from slipping off while Papyrus attempted to make adjustments was harder, especially with an energetic toddler ready to go play squirming in place. Eventually he got the straps of the shirt tied together with the lime green ribbon and the scarf tied around Sans’s middle with a cute bow in the back. It would have to do. Papyrus looked around at the mess in the bathroom, he’d have to clean that up before something got ruined.

“OKAY SANS, YOU CAN GO DOWNSTAIRS AND PLAY WHILE I CLEAN UP THIS MESS YOU UNINTENTIONALLY MADE, OKAY?”

Sans stuck his thumb in his teeth and nodded before turning and running from the room. It took some extra towels, but shortly Papyrus was finished cleaning and carried the pile of soggy towels downstairs to start washing. At the bottom of the stairs his jaw and the towels dropped to the floor in shock, the walls from his knee down were covered in black squiggles. He looked around until he spotted Sans sitting in front of one of the walls, permanent marker in hand.

“SANS!”

The toddler turned around at the shout, another permanent marker rattling around in one of his sockets. Sans’s grin widened, “pappus!”

Papyrus leapt across the room, Sans was up and running faster than Papyrus had ever seen him move in his entire life. There was a moment of vertigo as Papyrus slipped on first one, then the other permanent marker that Sans abandoned when he started running. He turned to find the giggling toddler now on the other side of the living room. “SANS, WILL YOU JUST! STAY STILL FOR ONE MOMENT! PLEASE!” The irony of asking Sans of all people to stay still was not lost on Papyrus, but he was too busy chasing the happily squealing toddler to think about that. Eventually he managed to catch Sans and scoop the giggling, wiggling, squealing toddler up into his arms.

“again!” Sans shrieked in delight as Papyrus held him out at arm’s length.

“NO, SANS, NOT AGAIN. WE DO NOT DRAW ON THE WALLS.”

“pappus! up! up!” Papyrus paused, then held Sans up higher. Sans squealed even more, “again! again!” Papyrus obliged, alternating between lifting Sans up and swinging him low. Eventually Sans’s squeals started to die down and Papyrus placed him on a hip before taking him back upstairs.

“IN THE FUTURE IT WOULD BE BETTER IF YOU DID NOT DRAW ON THE WALLS AGAIN,” Papyrus gently chided as he dug through his drawers for some paper. He returned downstairs and plopped Sans onto the floor with the papers, then grabbed the errant permanent markers and put one in Sans’s left hand. “DRAW ON THE PAPER, OKAY SANS? NOT THE WALLS.”

“okay!” Sans switched the marker to his right hand, then happily started scribbling on the paper.

Papyrus heaved a sigh of relief before grabbing the pile of towels and hurrying to the laundry room. He stuffed them into the washer as quickly as possible, once the load was going he walked back out into the living room and eyed the walls disdainfully. Those would need to be scrubbed before they stained, if it wasn’t too late already. He looked over at the culprit, then froze. The permanent markers and paper were sitting on the floor, but there was no Sans in sight. Papyrus looked around, there was no sign of Sans anywhere in the living room. He was about to go check upstairs when there was a loud crash in the kitchen. Papyrus ran in to find Sans standing in front of an open cupboard with a pile of pots and pans spilling out of it. Sans looked up, a whole potato shoved in his left eye socket.

“WHA…??” Papyrus trailed off, unsure where to even start. “WHERE DID YOU EVEN FIND A POTATO? WE DIDN’T HAVE ANY IN THE HOUSE AN HOUR AGO??” Sans started reaching for the nearest pot, so Papyrus quickly scooped him up again. “WHY DON’T WE GO BACK TO DRAWING?” Sans whined, but otherwise didn’t put up a fight. Papyrus set him down, then gently pried the potato out of his eye socket. “THERE, NOW YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SEE WHAT YOU ARE DRAWING, WHICH WILL VASTLY IMPROVE YOUR ARTISTIC ABILITY.” Papyrus picked up the one paper with scribbles on it and shoved the still blank ones closer to Sans. Then he looked at the drawing, there were three circles with various features on them and oddly angled sticks coming out the bottom. “SANS, WHAT’S THIS?”

“you an’ me an’ daddy,” Sans replied simply as he leaned forward to point at the figures.

Papyrus looked at the picture again, he supposed the tall figure could be him, and the smallest one was very round, but the one Sans said was “daddy” didn’t look like anyone he knew. Papyrus shrugged, it was hard to make out anything from a toddler’s drawing skills, and it wasn’t like Sans had any artistic skills as an adult either. He set the drawing aside and decided to simply sit and watch Sans draw, clean up would have to wait.

As Papyrus knew would eventually happen, Sans began to yawn and have trouble keeping upright. Papyrus scooped him into his arms and carried the toddler upstairs. He paused in front of his door, Sans’s room was still absolutely out of the question for a small child, but that left only Papyrus’s room. With a sigh from Papyrus and another yawn from Sans, Papyrus went into his room and placed Sans on the race car bed. Sans held his arms up expectantly, though Papyrus wasn’t sure what that was about.

“WHAT IS IT, SANS?”

Sans tugged at the makeshift belt around his middle and fussed sleepily with the shirt he was still wearing, “jammies.”

“OH,” Papyrus replied. There was no way anything he owned would be remotely like pajamas on the tiny toddler. He untied the scarf and pulled the shirt off anyway, made much easier by Sans putting his arms up again. “WHAT IF… YOU SLEPT WITHOUT JAMMIES? JUST FOR TONIGHT?” Papyrus tried not to let his nerves show. Sans just shrugged, then sleepily crawled towards the pillows. It was like a light bulb went off above Papyrus’ head, he quickly pulled down the blanket and neatly tucked Sans in, then grabbed one of the books from his shelf and pulled up a chair. “WOULD YOU LIKE A BEDTIME STORY, SANS?”

As backwards as the question felt, Papyrus smiled when Sans sleepily nodded, then happily opened the book and started reading the familiar story. “FLUFFY BUNNY LIVED IN A BEAUTIFUL MEADOW WITH ALL HIS LITTLE BUNNY FRIENDS...”

It was a little over an hour later and Papyrus was halfway through scrubbing the living room walls when there was a very enthusiastic knock at the door. Papyrus dropped his cleaning supplies and went to answer the door, unsure who would be visiting at this time of night. “OH! UNDYNE! HOW UNEXPECTED OF YOU TO COME VISIT ME SO LATE IN THE EVENING! AND WITHOUT KICKING DOWN MY DOOR!”

“Hey Papyrus!” Undyne greeted. “You gonna let me in?”

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus stepped aside to let Undyne in. Once the door was closed she shoved a box overflowing with stuff at Papyrus, he hesitantly accepted it. “WHY THANK YOU UNDYNE, WHAT IS IT?”

“I figured you needed some stuff for the baby until Alphys can fix this mess. There’s some kid friendly food in there, some toys, some clothes, and whatever else Gerson had on hand he thought you’d need.”

“WOWIE! I’LL HAVE TO GIVE HIM MY THANKS NEXT TIME I SEE HIM, OR SEND THEM ALONG WITH YOU IF I DON’T.”

“Don’t worry, I already gave him your thanks.”

“THANK YOU, UNDYNE! YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO SAVE TIME.”

“So how’s the little squirt doing anyway?” Undyne eyed the walls that still needed to be scrubbed.

“HE IS CURRENTLY SLEEPING UPSTAIRS. WE HAD A VERY ‘ACTIVE’ AFTERNOON TODAY,” Undyne snorted at the quotes, “AND I MUST SAY I AM VERY GRATEFUL FOR THE BREAK. I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY WHEN I WAS HAPPY FOR SANS TO TAKE ONE OF HIS LONG NAPS.”

“Yeah, little kids are full of energy like that. And he’s at the age where he should sleep through the whole night, but it’s not a bad idea to check up on him at some point. Sometimes they’ll wake up for a glass of water or something, and the poor kid will probably be disoriented since this is a strange house and all.”

“ACTUALLY, SANS SEEMED TO RECOGNIZE THE HOUSE. WHICH IS REALLY STRANGE, WE DIDN’T MOVE IN UNTIL AFTER THE… UH… UNTIL AFTER I GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL. BUT WHEN WE WALKED IN THE DOOR HE YELLED ‘DADDY, WE’RE HOME’ AND WAS COMPLETELY COMFORTABLE WITH THE HOUSE.”

“That is weird. Also, speaking of your dad, whatever happened to him? I mean… it’s weird that I hadn’t ever asked before but you never talk about your parents so…?”

“I DON’T REMEMBER OUR DAD VERY WELL, IT WAS JUST SANS AND ME FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER. I THINK HE WORKED A LOT? AND WASN’T AROUND MUCH? BUT AT SOME POINT HE WAS JUST GONE??” Papyrus stared down into the box he was still holding with furrowed brows. “I’D ASK SANS, BUT OBVIOUSLY THAT WON’T DO ANY GOOD RIGHT NOW. OH!” Papyrus stepped into the living room and set aside the box before picking up the drawing from earlier and showing it to Undyne. “SANS DREW THIS,” he pointed to each figure as he named them, “THAT’S ME, AND THAT LITTLE ONE IS SANS, AND THIS ONE IS OUR DAD.”

“Heh, that’s pretty good, that one definitely looks like you.” They both looked at it for a moment, then Undyne handed the picture back. “Well, it’s something to ask Sans when Alphys fixes him. Along with a bunch of other questions like how he and Alphys even know each other.”

“I HAD BEEN WONDERING ABOUT THAT TOO, PERHAPS WE SHOULD JUST ASK ALPHYS TO ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS SINCE SHE WOULD ACTUALLY KNOW THE ANSWERS.”

“Yeah, I’ll ask her later, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear what Sans will say. Or what he won’t say.”

“SANS DOES LOVE HIS POINTLESS SECRETS,” Papyrus agreed.

“Welp, I’m going to head home. early to bed and all that, but Gerson said to just pop by Waterfall any time and visit him if you need any help. Or even if you don’t. He wants to see Sans as a ‘little whippersnapper’ before this mess gets all cleared up.”

“I’LL MAKE SURE TO GO VISIT HIM THEN. HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, UNDYNE.”

“You too!”

A fun little scenario I've seen a few times (Sans gets turned into a baby/toddler/small child and it's up to Papyrus to take care of him until things go back to normal) but I've only ever seen it in Underfell. I get it, the added danger of having to protect Sans from a dusting as well as watching the usually harsh Fell!Paps trying to care for smol Sans is really nice. But just... just Papyrus having no idea how to take care of a small child sounds like plenty of drama for a story, so here it is! Enjoy as tiny Sans wraps your heart around his pinky phalange!

#undertale #nenna writes #fanfiction #fluff #humor #age ression #age regressed sans #toddler sans #babybones #sans #papyrus #alphys #undyne #grillby #grillby regulars

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mittensmorgul · 7 years

Note

Do you know of any instances in canon history where Dean's intuition has turned out to be wrong in a major way? Because it seems like we're going to start to see some answers to the "he was brainwashed" question since Jack flapped off and Dean still doesn't trust him.

Hrrrrm. This is a really difficult question, because like the Winchester Hunting Mindset, it’s not this black and white.

Like obviously of course he has and hasn’t, but extenuating circumstances. Context matters. Shades of grey, etc. etc.

Even all during s6 he fought against what his intuition was telling him about Cas, because he so wanted to believe in Cas. I mean, that’s a huge part of why he couldn’t forgive himself, or get over what Cas had done even by 7.17. He blamed himself for not pushing harder for answers, or maybe even for taking that whole year off with Lisa and trying to play normal

But aside from emotional overriding of what he’s got that bad feeling about, I can’t think of a single instance of his intuition being flat-out wrong.

Even in smaller ways, he’s typically right about the case stuff and Sam’s the doubter, but you specifically asked for if he’s been wrong in “a major way,” so I’m going to try and focus on The Big Issues. But again, the only instance I can think of right off the top of my head where he was stubbornly and blatantly wrong about a case was in 12.04– when he was absolutely convinced it was the social services lady who was a witch. Again, waves hello at Davy Perez, for absolutely nailing Dean’s immediate personal trauma and underscoring so many of his personal issues involving Mary’s fresh abandonment, his lifetime of likely run-ins with Family Services and well-meaning social workers, his parentification of Sam, his problematic relationship with John and the responsibility to hide the truth about their lives and protect Sam at all costs… which played right into the case they were working and colored his personal reactions. But again, extenuating circumstances…

Because of his personal issues with Mary and abandonment and the fact the social worker was openly admittedly a witch. Dean also got a very different impression of the family than Sam did (literally, he only had half the information to make his judgment on). He saw the father and son, the “happy families” side of the story where everything was presented to be done by their own choice, for positive family-bonding reasons in the wake of a personal tragedy. Meanwhile, Sam was in the house getting the skeevy third-person retelling of a first-person story by the mother, making it clear to us, who saw both sides of the story, that something was Definitely Fishy in that house. Meanwhile, all Dean could see after that encounter was that Sam had a bizarrely antagonistic reaction to a conversation he could only assume was nearly identical to the one he’d had outside.

This stark division, the reminder that they’d both had an entirely different experience in their respective interviews and thus come away with entirely different theories about the case, is highlighted as soon as they leave. Rather than sharing the reasons for their vastly different impressions and trying to figure out WHY they were given two entirely different impressions of this family, they each stubbornly stick to their guns. That was the entire POINT of this episode, on a meta level. And this lack of communication and understanding of the other’s entirely different experience and viewpoint and insight, Sam’s entirely unprepared for the entire family to be “in on the secret” and Dean’s bowled over to discover the social worker was nothing like she’d appeared to be on the surface.

And as soon as he saw the other side of the story, he instantly figured it out

So that’s the one glaring exception to Dean’s instinct, and it essentially works as an “exception that proves the rule,” because of the meta nature of the reasons he was “wrong” about the social worker.

That brings me to Dean’s role in the overarching narrative of the entire series. He’s the emotional POV for the audience. We’re supposed to ride along with him and even when he’s wrong he’s right. I know this bothers some people, and for some this is a major reason that they just don’t like Dean as a character. But most of the time, he’s the barometer for how the audience is supposed to react and feel and interpret the entire narrative.

We know Dean lies professionally, and is therefore an unreliable narrator, but we’re also given to understand that we’re still supposed to be “on his side” because he’s our emotional POV.

Whether he’s 100% right about Jack puppeting Cas or not doesn’t matter to me, so much as Dean’s reading of it being presented as the correct reading. Whether Jack meant to or not or whatever… (and we have ample evidence that most of what happens with his power is not something he does consciously, but that doesn’t mean he’s not subconsciously doing this stuff anyway), Dean’s read was the presented “main” reading and the events seemed to match it.

But I would argue Dean’s less right than 100%, but not more than 50% wrong. (the 50% being powers vs Jack himself doing it, i.e. the bit he’s partly “wrong” about is his assumption of any sort of intent on Jack’s behalf) and there will be a REASON he is wrong if he is which would necessarily justify his reading.

The fact that DEAN believed in the sock-puppeting, and the fact that JACK believes that it was a possibility, is what’s led directly to Jack’s current dilemma

Now that Cas is back, and he and Dean can finally (as he said in 12.23) “work through our crap,” theoretically he’ll be able to talk with Cas about all of that and try to understand Cas’s motives between 12.19 and 12.23. Unfortunately, Cas is also not objectively placed to talk about it, since it happened TO him and his emotional attachment to Jack /now/ is again a separate thing.

I fully believe he would have formed those same bonds with Kelly and unborn Jack in BETTER circumstances. Even if he’d gone back to the bunker with Sam and Dean as he’d already consented to do before the events at the sandbox. Arguably, it would’ve been a much safer and secure place for Jack to have been born, and for Dean and Sam to have come to understand the larger circumstances at play here.

As it is, Jack or his powers just made it happen for sure. Because of Dean’s stated concern that Cas wasn’t under his own control there, it renders anything Cas would have to say about it moot, because we can’t trust his objectivity. Because of Dean’s stated pov opinion on it.

Cas’s innate goodness and kindness vs his issues with protecting people/being a guardian angel/wanting a win all would lead him to care for Jack, and to feel responsible for caring for Jack, even if Jack’s powers hadn’t become a mitigating factor. I mean that’s why Kelly “picked him” to be Jack’s guardian in the first place. She (or Jack’s power) could plainly see Cas’s “goodness” in direct contrast to Dagon’s “badness.” He was even wavering about his orders to kill Kelly and Jack a few times IN 12x19, but he got pushed over the edge hard. This was not a gentle nudge or a moment of genuine character realization.

In the span of one glowy-golden-eyed sock puppeting (and that part is NOT up for debate, Jack’s power literally took Cas’s hand and used him to destroy Dagon), he went from “Jack must die and go to heaven before he’s born” to “Jack must be born with all his power at all costs” with no logic in between. We didn’t see his process on screen, and "he’s powerful enough to make me zap a knight of hell" is not good enough reasoning.

This was arguably the first instance of Jack’s power trying to do something good (killing Dagon) while having drastically unanticipated consequences (Joshua’s death, Dean being injured, the Colt being destroyed, and Cas abandoning his stated mission to take Kelly to Heaven so that Jack could be born with all his power). His power had already resurrected Kelly and thereby saved Jack, and that had caused cosmic alarm bells to ring in Heaven, providing the homing beacon Kelvin used to locate Kelly in the first place.

If anything it should be more concerning that he has that much power before he’s ever born. That firmly demonstrated his self-defensive instinct that we’ve seen trigger his power repeatedly since he’s been born.

After his power ~does the thing~ he doesn’t even seem to understand that he’d done anything. Like waking Cas up in the empty. Or the fact that his power resurrected Kelly when she’d killed herself, and yet he has no concept that he probably could’ve resurrected the guard he’d accidentally killed in 13.06 in the same way. Jack still is in a stage where he has to WANT to do things and I think understanding the guard is dead was too final to realize he COULD bring him back.

He seems to just ~do stuff~ with his power, not realizing it, and then later once he realizes he CAN, he attempts to do it deliberately– like the whole “throw people around” thing he seems to have perfected so he can do it without killing the rest of TFW at the end of the episode. I mean, the previous time he’d pulled that trick led to the circumstances he was terrified would happen ~without him intending harm~ but being unable to stop it from happening anyway. And yet he still did the Force Throw thing.

Then again, his INTENT when he was throwing that power at Dave the Ghoul was to kill/maim/injure… but he clearly has a lower setting on it and wasn’t afraid to use it on Sam, Dean, and Cas before flapping off, immediately after stating his reasoning for leaving being his desire NOT to hurt them…

He’s so highly conflicted about his OWN relationship with his powers that HE HIMSELF thinks of them as a tool and not inherently a part of himself. Right now his powers are literally acting like the man behind the curtain, and everything Dean’s witnessed with his own eyes has confirmed his initial impression that Jack’s powers are Not Trustworthy.

Over the course of the first six episodes of the season, Dean’s gotten to know Jack //the human person// outside of his powers, and seen what he was struggling with, his self-loathing and self-doubt and fear and confusion, and knowing that Jack’s powers may have set up the circumstances that led to Cas dying but also led directly to Cas coming back… well, that proved Jack’s intent was good, but still doesn’t clear up the whole “my power does what it wants and damn the consequences” issue that brought them to this point in the first place.

It’s rather a moot point if it ever really had been true or not before 13.04, but Dean’s BELIEF that it was true influenced Jack’s belief about whether or not it was true, which led directly to Jack “calling out” for Cas in the Empty… sort of proving the mechanism by which his power acts without his conscious control, and extends a TERRIFYING amount of influence into realms were even God has no power to act. And he does it all without it even registering to him. So in that respect, yeah, Dean’s 100% right.

He’s right because that’s the function of his POV within the narrative itself. And again, I know that has the potential to piss people off, and it’s kind of a hard fact to swallow sometimes, but unless the narrative explicitly proves Dean’s intuition wrong, we’re supposed to trust Dean’s assertions. And so far I’ve seen nothing to contradict this one.

#spn 13.06 #spn 12.19 #Anonymous #jack nougat winchester #seriously though why doesn't everyone just trust dean's gut instincts it's like he's got an uncanny magical gift here...#the special agony of brainwashing #feeling a wee bit rightfully terrified of the Incredible Nougat Power #dean is the center of the universe

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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if i could have you (Biadore) - dylann

A/N: long time reader, first time poster. pretty sure this one technically fulfills that one request for jealousy that leads to a confession? (also this is set in some vague present time and in any city that has a hotel and a club, that’s truly unimportant here)

content warning: drinking, a whole bunch of swearing, thinly veiled references to questionable sexual habits

Bianca opens her mouth all the way only to bring her teeth back down onto her bottom lip like a guillotine.

Adore stares. Bianca’s wearing nude lip liner and some sort of glittery gloss at the center of her lips. It’s dark beige, or light brown, or something. Adore is too far gone to care.

She blinks a few times and smiles back as Bianca grins and finishes a joke and laughs with her head thrown back. It’s almost too much.

There are nights when post-performance drinks are a good time and everyone goes back to whatever hotel they’re staying at buzzed and tired and ready to do it all over again in 24 hours. And then, there are nights like this.

Bianca is always funny, always brilliant, always so quick on her feet it’s terrifying and most nights, Adore finds it incredible to watch and be a part of. It’s like a masterclass every time, and Adore always ends up reeling from it. It’s a feeling really close to pride, that sense of Hey this is my friend and she’s so fucking good, look at her go; Adore loves sharing and showing Bianca off to an audience.

But on nights like this, when Bianca’s at the very top of her game, watching her is unbearable. It’s like staring directly into a bright light. Adore can never look away and that’s when her need to be so much closer to Bianca rises to the top and is impossible to ignore.

And Adore’s grown to be so good at ignoring her love for Bianca.

They’re friends. They’re good friends who travel together and work together and share hotel rooms and probably know each other’s worst habits, and it’s really no secret that they share a lot of love. They exchange “I love you”s dozens of times every day. It’s the way Adore means it which has gone unmentioned and unacknowledged for a long, long time now.

It’s okay, most days.

Now, Bianca is still talking, delivering one of her longwinded stories which is basically a stand up bit, and everyone at their table is laughing. The music is too loud for Adore to hear most of what’s being said, so she’s just watching Bianca and her heavy lashes, and her sparkly lips and her impossibly wide grin.

It’s almost the perfect life. It’d be ideal if Adore could get to snake an arm around her waist and maybe steal a few kisses in between laughs. It wouldn’t change much, really, and Adore wants it so much breathing hurts for entirely non-cincher reasons.

This is a bad spiral.

It’s useless and bad when she starts justifying it, when she starts thinking that a few kisses here and there wouldn’t change a thing,

so Adore does what she always does when it starts to happen and excuses herself.

She says something about fresh air, doesn’t wait to see if anyone heard, and heads out of the club.

The smoking area outside isn’t exactly deserted but it’s quieter and Bianca isn’t there, which is all Adore can ask for. It’s much easier to be aware that you’re drunk once you’re away from the booming music and the dim lights inside.

Adore’s watches a group of kids, definitely a few years younger than her, stumble down the sidewalk and thinks she’s lucky she’s great at keeping her balance in heels.

There’s a skinny boy smoking by himself against the side of the building. He has dark skin and ripped jeans, and his tank top is cut in a way which shows off an impressive tattoo covering his ribs. He also looks like the kind of club goer who was definitely there to see the show, and is now trying his hardest to look cool at the sight of Adore by herself, and way from the spotlight.

He even props one of his feet back up agains the wall. He’s a picture of act cool, act cool, act cool and Adore would probably find it annoying if she wasn’t in the mood to engage.

So she walks over, shoots him a bright red grin, and asks,

“Do you have a lighter?”

The pretty boy stares, visibly swallows back a “Hi Adore oh my god I’m a huge fan the show was great can we take a selfie” and reaches into his pocket, saying instead,

“Sure.“

“Fantastic,” Adore draws the word out, and tilts her head to the side. She’s very aware that it looks adorable. “Got a cigarette, too?”

“You really came unprepared, didn’t you?” the guy teases, and Adore laughs. This is fine, he’s treating her like an actual person, and it makes her want to play along more.

“You have no idea,” she quips as she pulls out a cigarette from the half-empty pack of Marlboro reds he extends in her direction.

He lights it for her the second it hits her lips which, okay, wow, the guy really is trying.

Adore tries not to be the kind of person who does groupies. Truly, she does.

It’s just that she travels a lot and ends up pining and drunk at clubs just as often, and there are people who find her attractive and would like to fuck her there. That’s it — people who dig her. Not groupies.

Adore decorates her “Thanks” in an entire cloud of cigarette smoke because she can be dramatic and hot as if the sidewalk is a stage if that’s what it takes to get her away from this place by time she’s finished the cigarette, god damn it.

“Syd,” the guy says, glancing up to catch her eyes. He’d probably be taller than her if she wasn’t wearing heels. His eyes are brown and they catch the orange light of the street lamp beautifully.

“Adore.”

“I know.”

Adore rolls her eyes and Syd laughs, so she lets him believe she’d been joking.

“So, you come here often?” she tries, and can’t keep a straight face long enough to ask. Syd laughs. Adore’s starting to think he’d laugh at anything she has to say.

“When there’s something good to see,” he smirks, and actually moves a few inches closer.

Adore smokes in silence and blinks very slowly in away that’s reserved for the stage and people she wouldn’t mind fucking.

Syd leans with his shoulder against the wall and is now close enough that just one turn would have him directly in front of her and backing her into the wall. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“And do you always go out alone, or—“ Adore starts, and she’s ready to use whatever answer he gives her to her advantage. Her cigarette is almost done and Syd looks pretty kissable.

“Adore.”

Bianca’s voice comes from the door of the club and Adore freezes.

“Sorry, it’s just my mom,” she says to Syd and he laughs again, and god damn it, will he ever stop laughing?

“Adore Delano,” Bianca repeats. “I got an Uber, come on.”

She’s not asking a question.

The only option Adore’s given is to follow her and for some reason, it pisses her off a little. Usually, Bianca would make a joke about making good choices and let her be, and Adore would roll her eyes and tell her to fuck off, and they’d catch up in the morning.

“He’s like, less than a minute away.”

Adore glances at Syd, and then back at Bianca.

Fuck. It was never really a matter of making a choice.

“Sorry. Gotta go,” Adore forces a cutesy smile and leaves a bright red lip print on Syd’s cheek before walking away.

It’ll give him enough to talk about.

The car pulls up and Adore follows Bianca in, crushing the cigarette butt under her heel as she goes.

***

Adore keeps herself collected in the car because the Uber driver is looking at them weird and the last thing she needs is to deal with that. Bianca notices his look too, of course, and only says hello when they get in and thank you, goodnight, as soon as they pull up in front of the hotel.

The elevator ride up is quiet. Then, Bianca opens the door to the room and Adore can’t hold back any longer.

“What the fuck was that?”

“He looked dodgy,” Bianca shrugs. She’s sitting at the edge of her bed, undoing her heels’ straps and she answers in the low, detached tone of someone who really doesn’t want to be talking about this.

For a moment, Adore considers letting it go. She’s not entirely sure why she’s trying to pick a fight with Bianca but something is picking at the back of her mind, and she’s pissed off, and she’s very much pissed off at Bianca.

She spends a minute having a quiet argument with herself as she wriggles out of her dress and it all bubbles up in her chest. Adore can’t not have this conversation so she whips back to look at Bianca (now eyelash-less and methodically pulling pins out of her wig).

“No, fuck, hold on. What the fuck was that— I was in the middle of something,” Bianca doesn’t answer. “I mean, fuck, Bianca you didn’t even ask if I wanted to go. Which. I didn’t.”

“He didn’t look safe.”

“What do you mean he didn’t— he’s just some kid who came to the show. Jesus!”

Bianca mumbles a reply under her breath in away which seems pointed.

“What was that?” Adore feels her stomach drop as she snaps at her. She doesn’t want to be doing this but it’s already set in motion and it feels oddly cinematic, like she’s somewhere else, watching herself fight. She’s not in control.

“I said,” Bianca bites, “that maybe this isn’t about this guy.”

Her eyes look bigger now that she’s taken her lashes off and Adore wishes she wasn’t glaring at her so she could appreciate them.

“What the fuck.”

“I mean, it was cute at first but you’ve got to stop fucking fans. You know it’d only take one person to start talking on Reddit and—“

“Jesus. Christ. Bianca, fuck, are you kidding me right now?” Adore snaps. She shouldn’t be raising her voice, she really shouldn’t, but damn it, she’s drunk and she’s hurt and she wants to scream. “It’s only happened like, once. Two times—“

“That’s two too many.”

Bianca’s never sounded that harsh. She raises her voice to match Adore and it makes Adore’s head spin. She’d never thought Bianca could genuinely get that angry.

Adore is standing in the middle of the room in all of her undergarments and she feels bare and embarrassed and her cheeks burn. It must be visible through the layers of makeup still on her face.

“I’m sorry I’m such a whore,” she says, and she’d meant it to come out rude and biting but her voice wavers even though she’s still basically yelling. “I’m sorry I don’t live up to your ridiculous standards, I was just having fun, fuck.”

“That whole live fast die young schtick gets real old real quick, Adore,” Bianca says, not missing a beat.

“I do not understand how that’s any of your goddamn business.”

“I don’t want you to end up—“

“I know how to take care of myself.”

“Honestly, right now, I fucking doubt that.” Bianca practically yells at her and it shuts her up. Adore breaks the eye contact, looking down at the floor as she begins to unlace her cincher. Her hands are shaking. She’s chipped a nail.

“I just can’t deal with my alternative being coming back to a goddamn hotel room with you every night.”

Adore starts speaking way before she knows what she’s saying. Her vision goes dark around the edges. Shutupshutupshutup.

Bianca, now down to her wig cap, stares at her and it’s angry and sad and Adore wants to throw up, and cry, and never see this conversation through.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means—fuck, Bea. It means some nights I can’t come home and, and, watch you do this,”

(Bianca is rubbing her makeup off.)

“and then go to sleep, while I’m here fucking…wide awake thinking about shit I’m never gonna fucking have ‘cause I’m too fucking scared to even consider… I mean. Fuck.”

(Adore pauses for a shaky breath. Bianca doesn’t say anything.)

“I need something else, sometimes, okay? Of course it’s about fucking. And when it’s someone who doesn’t know me but thinks he does and treats me like a fucking celebrity? It’s good. But— Jesus, Bea, I like falling asleep with someone, like… I wanna smoke a fucking joint with someone and crash and wake up in his arms and pretend I’m not flying away in twelve hours, like, just once.

I want—“

(Adore’s rapid-firing. There are tears down her cheeks and they’re 90% anger.)

“I fucking wanna be with someone and if I can’t get that in our fucking hotel room, then I will fucking go out and get it somewhere else.”

(FUCK.)

Adore stops dead in her tracks. She draws in a very sharp breath and sways a little.

Wigless and bare faced, Roy is staring at her like she’s a disgusting car wreck and he can’t look away.

“I lost you halfway through that whole speech,” the fight is gone from his voice. Under the makeup, he’s grown very, very pale. “At least, I think I did.”

“It doesn’t f— doesn’t matter anyway,” Adore wipes her face with the back of her hand. “Whatever. It’s late. Go to bed. I’ll be quiet.“

“Adore.”

It’s so much softer this time.

Roy walks over to her. He’s barefoot and so much shorter but Adore feels tiny next to him even as she looks down to catch his eyes.

“I really need to know,” Roy says, and his voice is perfectly level and controlled, and for some reason that makes Adore start sobbing again. There’s definitely mascara streaking down her face and it isn’t pretty. She’s an embarrassing goddamn mess and this is pointless and,

“I need to know. What are you trying to say?”

“Just that—“ she sniffles and reaches up to pull off an eyelash that’s completely unglued. “I wouldn’t be going out to do that shit if I could—“

have you, she doesn’t say, because Roy has closed the distance between her, and he has a hand resting at the curve of her jaw, and is kissing her.

Adore kisses back because her ears are ringing and the world is ending and she might as well kiss back if it’s the last damn thing she does.

Except then the kiss ends and she’s still there, shaking and breathless and her mascara’s on Roy’s cheeks and he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Fuck,” she whispers, and reaches a shaky hand to pull her wig off. A bunch of hair pins hit the floor.

“Yeah. Fuck,” Roy nods. He doesn’t quite smile but she sees it in the slightest curve of his lips, in the way his laughter lines deepen when he looks at her.

“Come on,” he adds quietly, and his hand is around her wrist, and he’s guiding her to his bed, and all Adore can do is follow. Her head is swimming. Her chest is too tight. She’s pretty sure she’s still crying, and not quite sure why anymore.

Then she finds herself seated at the edge of his bed, and Roy’s hand is tilting her chin up, and he’s cleaning her make up with one of his cucumber-scented wipes. Adore breathes, and breathes, and quiets down by the time his hand runs over her lips to wipe off her lipstick.

Danny has never felt this vulnerable.

His eyes are burning and his entire world has gone tunnel vision, focused entirely on Roy who’s so terrifyingly close. Danny’s mouth tastes vaguely like vodka and borrowed cigarettes and cucumber make up wipes, and it’s not pleasant.

“I must be horrible to kiss right now,” he jokes weakly.

“Yeah, I’m not about to lie to you and tell you it’s like strawberries and champagne ‘cause I’ve wanted it for awhile,” Roy quips back, perfectly deadpan, and Danny is so fucking in love.

“But I have,” Roy adds.

Danny wants to say that could listen to nothing but his voice saying I’ve wanted this for a while for the rest of his life and he’d be okay with that.

“I should brush my teeth,” he says instead.

“Yeah. Do that. You’re a fucking mess.”

** Danny stares at himself in the bathroom mirror as he spits toothpaste into the sink.

In the morning, when they’re sober, they’re gonna have to talk about this.

He’s gonna have to apologize for blowing up.

Now, though, he feels cleaner but his head is still swimming and he doesn’t want to talk at all.

“I made myself look all pretty for you,” he announces as he steps out of the bathroom, because being cute is much easier than being vulnerable. And he’s so damn good at being cute.

He’s down to his boxers and entirely too aware of Roy’s eyes on him as he pads back into the room.

“You’re always pretty,” Roy shoots back. Then, because he’s truly a saint, he adds a much gentler, “But we shouldn’t do this right now. You’re drunk. Shit, I’m drunk. And emotions are clearly heightened— We should go to bed.”

And he’s right, of course. Anyone else would be steering Danny towards a series of horrible choices. But Roy is actually a goddamn angel sent from heaven.

As Roy flips the lights off, Danny walks over to his bed, and then he hears a laugh in the dark.

“What the fuck are you doing? Don’t be an idiot. Come over here.”

Realizing what Roy meant takes a second.

Danny’s not used to having a middle ground between reckless, raw lust and absolute rejection, and it makes his heart sting in a way he’s definitely not about to acknowledge. Instead, he walks over to Roy’s bed and climbs in, and it’s so simple and so fucking overwhelming.

“I should’ve picked a fight fucking—“ years “—a while ago.”

“God, do you ever shut up?” Roy exhales a laugh and pulls him into his side.

“I talk when I’m nervous.”

“Shut up.”

Roy kisses the top of his head, and Danny shuts up.

He’s so tired. His body is so heavy.

They’re gonna have to figure this out and talk, really talk, and he knows this whole conversation isn’t over at all yet. But now Roy’s arm is around his shoulders, and it’s hard to hold on to thoughts for too long, and it’s all gonna have to wait.

Danny drifts off with his head on Roy’s chest.

There, he can feel Roy’s heart racing even as they lie still and quiet,

and he just thinks to himself,

same.

#bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #angst #angst with a happy ending #tw alcohol #tw drinking #dylann #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant #if i could have you

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realrhythmskrp · 7 years

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DISPATCH, (04/08/17): Mirage Media has officially released information about main rapper, main dancer, and main vocalist, Song Areum, also known as Aria, on skyLectric’s official website! Aria is a ‘91 liner and has been beloved by fans since her debut in 2012. Find out more about Aria below!

I, SONG AREUM, have read and understand the terms and conditions as my position of SKYLECTRIC’S MAIN RAPPER and agree to honor the standards that are to be expected of me as an employee of MIRAGE MEDIA.

OOC INFORMATION

Preferred name: Elli

Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: EST

Other muses: Jo Dahye

IC INFORMATION

Faceclaim: Kim Hyuna

Name: Song Areum

Stage name (if applicable): Aria

Idol concept: Aria is considered the seductress of skyLectric, known to give off a dangerous aura when performing, yet maintaining a level of sexiness that appeals to male fans and labels her as a ‘girl crush’ to female fans. Her minimal activity on social media and quiet yet calming presence on variety and reality shows makes her appear mysterious as well, and while it does draw fans in and make them appreciate the few times that she is more personable, it makes her an easy target for hate and rumors. For the most part, Aria doesn’t mind– at the end of the day it’s all a part of the job, and being able to let loose and act outside of her actual demeanor certainly makes her days more interesting. The one thing she dislikes is having to solely appeal to male fans, but as she comes to terms with her sexuality, she sees this as both a blessing and a curse.

Birth date and age: May 12th, 1991 / 25

Company name: Mirage Media

Group Name (if applicable): skyLectric

Group Position (if applicable): Main rapper

Strengths: STRONG RAPS: Aria’s intention was never to rap, but since debuting she’s been motivated to improve her abilities after growing sick of having a few weak seconds of rhymes. When her group isn’t promoting and she isn’t busy with a drama, she’s more than likely rehearsing and meeting up with rap coaches, and has displayed her growth through various videos posted on social media and features on other people’s tracks. Despite her claims that her rapping has improved over the years, skyLectric’s music doesn’t allow her to show this and she doesn’t see a solo debut for herself in the near future. DANCE: She’s not skyLectric’s dance machine for no reason. Aria has basically been dancing for as long as she could walk, from dance lessons, to her dance crew in New York, to training for six years. She’s often creating choreography, both for her own practice videos and for skyLectric’s performances, and one of her biggest post-idol goals is to open a dance studio. STAGE PRESENCE: When Aria performs, she easily attracts all eyes to herself. No matter the song (even the songs that she hates), she looks as if she’s having the time of her life. Paired along with perfectly timed eye contact with the crowd, plus a few winks, grins and poking out of her tongue here and there, eyes often gravitate to her when audience members are unfamiliar with the group as a whole.

Weaknesses: CONTROLLING STREAK: It’s not an exaggeration to say that when working with Aria, it’s her way or the highway. When it comes to topics that she feels confident in, she’ll argue to hell and back trying to prove her point. This often leads to conflicts not only with her group members (mainly her leader as she talks over her commands), but with producers as well, and especially choreographers. SEEMINGLY FRIENDLESS: Aria’s limited social media presence means that she has very minimal opportunities to interact, both with her fans and other fellow idols. On one hand, this works out for her mysterious image, but on the other hand, it makes her look as if she’s not comfortable with anyone but her group mates. She keeps a small circle of idol friends, but there’s never anything to show for it besides offhanded mentions on shows. In a business where networking plays a key role in exposure, Aria can’t be bothered to force a smile on her face and interact with people she doesn’t care to interact with just because their high profile will help to benefit her. This has only made it easier for people to spring up rumors about her being an unlikable person and make up conflicts for her, all because there’s not much evidence out there to prove otherwise. FANSERVICE: As a person that prefers to show her appreciation and affection towards people with subtle actions, Aria often struggles when it comes to the direct (and almost obnoxious) acts done to show appreciation to fans. Either she misses the mark and barely gives more than finger hearts, or she’s over the top, leading to cringe worthy videos of it being passed around and being mocked for it.

Positive traits: Resourceful, Motivated, Protective

Negative traits: Stubborn, Blunt, Spiteful

PERSONAL HISTORY

“congratulations, it’s a baby girl.”

may 12th, 1991 at 9:32 in the morning. areum aria song took her first breath in mount sinai hospital, bringing much happiness and relief to her anxious parents. the apartment that she grew up in might have been bare of possessions, but for what they couldn’t provide financially, they made up for with love. even as a young child, aria was always aware to some extent that her family was poor– it was obvious in the way that her parents never seemed to be hungry around dinnertime, how stressed they looked whenever they opened the mail, or how her birthday and christmas time was always less extravagant than what she saw on television or heard about from her friends. they had less, but that was okay. it could never stop her from wanting to get more for herself.

“we practice on wednesday, friday and saturday. you should come down, when you can.”

aria is ten years old when she found her first love, and no, it wasn’t a person. a local community center in her neighborhood hosted dance practices, and as a way to stay out of her parents way, she signed herself up in a heartbeat. as it turned out, she was a natural, starting off with tap and jazz before eventually branching out to whatever form she could find. by age thirteen, aria leaves the community center with a few other members to form a dance crew called nuAGE, and they start uploading their choreography and routines to youtube.

what started off as friends goofing around eventually picked up traction, and within a year nuAGE had thousands of youtube subscribers. busking in times square and coney island soon turned into paid gigs, and soon dance turned into more than just a hobby for aria. she was young, with years ahead of her, yet she was already debating whether or not this was going to be her future, or if she should soar a little lower.

“bkb entertainment is holding global auditions. why don’t you give it a try, see what they think of your skills?”

truthfully, aria wasn’t entirely sure why she went– even as she was in line, she still considered sneaking off every now and then before her name was called. she hadn’t told her parents, they would be expecting her home by sun down, she had tons of homework to do, yet even with all the excuses, she still managed to stay in the waiting area until she was called back. maybe it was just fate, or maybe her being more foolish than she ever thought she was, but in the end it paid off. aria soared through her audition, and by age fifteen she was packing her bags to move to seoul and train under bkb entertainment.

her training under bkb lasted for all of two years before she decided not to renew and find a different, better company to train under, all she wanted to do was dance and they were far too restrictive and controlling for her tastes. after months of nonstop searching she chooses to sign with mirage media, and from then on out she soared, quickly finding herself as part of the lineup for a predebut group not even a year after she started to train there.

“mom, dad… i think i’m gay.”

adulthood hit aria like a ton of bricks, both with new responsibilities and realizations as she finally got closer and closer to her actual debut. one, that she was woefully unprepared for her new role as a rapper that had been forced upon her. two, that despite her reassurances that she was fine, there was a part of her that was still bitter over the fact that she was passed over the opportunity to lead her group. and three, perhaps the most important of all– aria was absolutely, without a doubt in her mind, not straight. it had taken her years to grasp this information, and much longer to build up the courage to tell someone.

her parents were the first people that she came out to, over the phone after she warmed them up with her debut announcement. they hung up on her, and they haven’t called back since. ‘fuck ‘em’, she’ll say when anyone asks her about them, her face looking as nonchalant as ever when deep down the memories drive a knife into her heart.

she hasn’t told another soul since, and at this rate, she doesn’t plan to.

“hello, i’m aria, skyLectric’s passion! please treat us well!”

as always, things begin to look up, mainly because aria refuses to stay in the dumps. she might not lead her group, but she’s established herself as a pillar of support for the other three (along with their previous potential members), and that’s good enough. rather than settle with being yet another mediocre idol rapper, she pushed herself to at least show some sort of improvement over the last five years. naturally, she has her complaints here and there, but as long as she can still get on stage and dance her heart out, she’ll never have a day without a smile on her face.

#ryt:accepted #ryt:mirage #ryt:skylectric #rytaria

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meeedeee · 8 years

Link

http://ift.tt/2iKwRKc

Michelle Obama gave her final remarks as First Lady on Friday, choking up as she urged young Americans to remain hopeful and engaged in the country’s future.

“I want our young people to know that they matter, that they belong, so don’t be afraid. You hear me? Young people, don’t be afraid. Be focused, be determined, be hopeful, be empowered,” Obama said at the White House, speaking at an event honoring the 2017 School Counselor of the Year. “Lead by example with hope, never fear, and know that I will be with you, rooting for you and working to support you for the rest of my life.”

She called serving as First Lady “the greatest honor of my life.”

Here are her full remarks:

OBAMA: Hey! (Applause.) What’s going on? (Applause.) Thank you all so much. You guys, that’s a command — rest yourselves. (Laughter.) We’re almost at the end. (Laughter.) Hello, everyone. And, may I say for the last time officially, welcome to the White House. Yes! (Applause.) Well, we are beyond thrilled to have you all here to celebrate the 2017 National School Counselor of the Year, as well as all of our State Counselors of the Year. These are the fine women, and a few good men — (laughter) — one good man — who are on this stage, and they represent schools from across this country.

And I want to start by thanking Terri for that wonderful introduction and her right-on-the-spot remarks. I’m going to say a lot more about Terri in a few minutes, but first I want to take a moment to acknowledge a few people who are here.

First, our outstanding Secretary of Education, John King. (Applause.) As well as our former Education Secretary, Arne Duncan. (Applause.) I want to take this time to thank you both publicly for your dedication and leadership and friendship. We couldn’t do this without the support of the Department of Education under both of your leadership. So I’m grateful to you personally, and very proud of all that you’ve done for this country.

I also want to acknowledge a few other special guests we have in the audience. We’ve got a pretty awesome crew. As one of my staff said, “You roll pretty deep.” (Laughter.) I’m like, well, yeah, we have a few good friends. We have with us today Ted Allen, La La Anthony, Connie Britton, Andy Cohen — yeah, Andy Cohen is here — (laughter) — Carla Hall, Coach Jim Harbaugh and his beautiful wife, who’s a lot better looking than him — (laughter) — Lana Parrilla, my buddy Jay Pharoah, Kelly Rowland, Usher —

AUDIENCE MEMBER: Woo!

MRS. OBAMA: Keep it down. (Laughter.) Keep it together, ladies. Wale is here. And of course, Allison Williams and her mom are here.

And all these folks are here because they’re using their star power to inspire our young people. And I’m so grateful to all of you for stepping up in so many ways on so many occasions. I feel like I’ve pestered you over these years, asking time and time again, “Well, where are you going to be?” “I’m going to be in New York.” “Can you come? Can you come here? Can you do this? Can you take that? Can you ask for that? Can you come? Can we rap? Can we sing?” (Laughter.) So thank you all so much. It really means the world to this initiative to have such powerful, respected and admired individuals speaking on behalf of this issue. So congratulations on the work that you’ve done, and we’re going to keep working.

And today, I especially want to recognize all these — extraordinary leadership team that was behind Reach Higher from day one. And this isn’t on the script so they don’t know this. I want to take time to personally acknowledge a couple of people. Executive Director Eric Waldo. (Applause.) Where is Eric? He’s in the — you’ve got to step out. (Applause.) Eric is acting like he’s a ham, but he likes the spotlight. (Laughter.) He’s acting a little shy. I want to recognize our Deputy Director, Stephanie Sprow. Stephanie. (Applause.) And he’s really not going to like this because he tries to pretend like he doesn’t exist at all, but our Senior Advisor, Greg Darnieder. (Applause.) There you go. Greg has been a leader in education his entire life. I’ve known him since I was a little organizer person. And it’s just been just a joy to work with you all. These individuals, they are brilliant. They are creative. They have worked miracles with hardly any staff or budget to speak of — which is how we roll in the First Lady’s Office. (Laughter.) And I am so proud and so, so grateful to you all for everything that you’ve done. So let’s give them a round of applause. (Applause.)

And finally, I want to recognize all of you who are here in this audience. We have our educators, our leaders, our young people who have been with us since we launched Reach Higher back in 2014. Now, when we first came up with this idea, we had one clear goal in mind: We wanted to make higher education cool. We wanted to change the conversation around what it means and what it takes to be a success in this country. Because let’s be honest, if we’re always shining the spotlight on professional athletes or recording artists or Hollywood celebrities, if those are the only achievements we celebrate, then why would we ever think kids would see college as a priority?

So we decided to flip the script and shine a big, bright spotlight on all things educational. For example, we made College Signing Day a national event. We wanted to mimic all the drama and excitement traditionally reserved for those few amazing football and basketball players choosing their college and university teams. We wanted to focus that same level of energy and attention on kids going to college because of their academic achievements. Because as a nation, that’s where the spotlight should also be — on kids who work hard in school and do the right thing when no one is watching, many beating daunting odds.

Next, we launched Better Make Room. It’s a social media campaign to give young people the support and inspiration they need to actually complete higher education. And to really drive that message home, you may recall that I debuted my music career — (laughter) — rapping with Jay about getting some knowledge by going to college. (Laughter and applause.)

We are also very proud of all that this administration has done to make higher education more affordable. We doubled investments in Pell grants and college tax credits. We expanded income-based loan repayment options for tens of millions of students. We made it easier to apply for financial aid. We created a College Scorecard to help students make good decisions about higher education. And we provided new funding and support for school counselors. (Applause.) Altogether, we made in this administration the largest investment in higher education since the G.I. Bill. (Applause.) And today, the high school graduation rate is at a record high, and more young people than ever before are going to college.

And we know that school counselors like all of the folks standing with me on this stage have played a critical role in helping us get there. In fact, a recent study showed that students who met with a school counselor to talk about financial aid or college were three times more likely to attend college, and they were nearly seven times more likely to apply for financial aid.

So our school counselors are truly among the heroes of the Reach Higher story. And that’s why we created this event two years ago, because we thought that they should finally get some recognition. (Applause.) We wanted everyone to know about the difference that these phenomenal men and women have been making in the lives of our young people every day. And our 2017 School Counselor of the Year, Terri Tchorzynski, is a perfect example.

As you heard, Terri works at the Calhoun Area Career Center, a career and technical education school in Michigan. And here’s what Terri’s principal said about her in his letter of recommendation. He said, “Once she identifies a systemic need, she works tirelessly to address it.”

So when students at Terri’s school reported feeling unprepared to apply for higher education, Terri sprang into action to create a school-wide, top-to-bottom college-readiness effort. Under Terri’s leadership, more students than ever before attended workshops on resume writing, FAFSA completion — yes, I can now say FAFSA — (laughter) — and interview preparation. I can barely say it. (Laughter.) They did career and personal — personality assessments. They helped plan a special college week. And they organized a Military Day, hosting recruiters from all branches of our armed forces. And because of these efforts, today, 75 percent of Calhoun’s seniors now complete key college application steps, and Terri’s school has won state and national recognition.

And all of this is just one small part of what Terri does for her students each day. I can go on and on about all the time she spends one-on-one with students, helping them figure out their life path. Terri told us — as you heard, she told us about one of those students, so we reached out to Kyra. And here’s what Kyra had to say in her own words. Kyra wrote that “Mrs. Tchorzynski has helped me grow to love myself. She helped me with my doubts and insecurities.” She said, my life has changed “for the better in all aspects.” Kyra said, “She held my hand through my hardest times.” She said, “Mrs. Tchorzynski is my lifesaver.” That’s what Kyra said. (Laughter.)

And this is what each of you do every single day. You see the promise in each of your students. You believe in them even when they can’t believe in themselves, and you work tirelessly to help them be who they were truly meant to be. And you do it all in the face of some overwhelming challenges — tight budgets, impossible student- counselor ratios — yeah, amen — (laughter) — endless demands on your time.

You all come in early, you stay late. You reach into your own pockets — and see, we’ve got the amen corner. (Laughter.) You stick with students in their darkest moments, when they’re most anxious and afraid. And if anyone is dealing with a college [high school] senior or junior, you know what this feels like. These men and women show them that those kids matter; that they have something to offer; that no matter where they’re from or how much money their parents have, no matter what they look like or who they love or how they worship or what language they speak at home, they have a place in this country.

And as I end my time in the White House, I can think of no better message to send our young people in my last official remarks as First Lady. So for all the young people in this room and those who are watching, know that this country belongs to you — to all of you, from every background and walk of life. If you or your parents are immigrants, know that you are part of a proud American tradition — the infusion of new cultures, talents and ideas, generation after generation, that has made us the greatest country on earth.

If your family doesn’t have much money, I want you to remember that in this country, plenty of folks, including me and my husband — we started out with very little. But with a lot of hard work and a good education, anything is possible — even becoming President. That’s what the American Dream is all about. (Applause.)

If you are a person of faith, know that religious diversity is a great American tradition, too. In fact, that’s why people first came to this country — to worship freely. And whether you are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Sikh — these religions are teaching our young people about justice, and compassion, and honesty. So I want our young people to continue to learn and practice those values with pride. You see, our glorious diversity — our diversities of faiths and colors and creeds — that is not a threat to who we are, it makes us who we are. (Applause.) So the young people here and the young people out there: Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you don’t matter, or like you don’t have a place in our American story — because you do. And you have a right to be exactly who you are. But I also want to be very clear: This right isn’t just handed to you. No, this right has to be earned every single day. You cannot take your freedoms for granted. Just like generations who have come before you, you have to do your part to preserve and protect those freedoms. And that starts right now, when you’re young.

Right now, you need to be preparing yourself to add your voice to our national conversation. You need to prepare yourself to be informed and engaged as a citizen, to serve and to lead, to stand up for our proud American values and to honor them in your daily lives. And that means getting the best education possible so you can think critically, so you can express yourself clearly, so you can get a good job and support yourself and your family, so you can be a positive force in your communities.

And when you encounter obstacles — because I guarantee you, you will, and many of you already have — when you are struggling and you start thinking about giving up, I want you to remember something that my husband and I have talked about since we first started this journey nearly a decade ago, something that has carried us through every moment in this White House and every moment of our lives, and that is the power of hope — the belief that something better is always possible if you’re willing to work for it and fight for it.

It is our fundamental belief in the power of hope that has allowed us to rise above the voices of doubt and division, of anger and fear that we have faced in our own lives and in the life of this country. Our hope that if we work hard enough and believe in ourselves, then we can be whatever we dream, regardless of the limitations that others may place on us. The hope that when people see us for who we truly are, maybe, just maybe they, too, will be inspired to rise to their best possible selves.

That is the hope of students like Kyra who fight to discover their gifts and share them with the world. It’s the hope of school counselors like Terri and all these folks up here who guide those students every step of the way, refusing to give up on even a single young person. Shoot, it’s the hope of my — folks like my dad who got up every day to do his job at the city water plant; the hope that one day, his kids would go to college and have opportunities he never dreamed of.

That’s the kind of hope that every single one of us — politicians, parents, preachers — all of us need to be providing for our young people. Because that is what moves this country forward every single day — our hope for the future and the hard work that hope inspires.

So that’s my final message to young people as First Lady. It is simple. (Applause.) I want our young people to know that they matter, that they belong. So don’t be afraid — you hear me, young people? Don’t be afraid. Be focused. Be determined. Be hopeful. Be empowered. Empower yourselves with a good education, then get out there and use that education to build a country worthy of your boundless promise. Lead by example with hope, never fear. And know that I will be with you, rooting for you and working to support you for the rest of my life.

And that is true I know for every person who are here — is here today, and for educators and advocates all across this nation who get up every day and work their hearts out to lift up our young people. And I am so grateful to all of you for your passion and your dedication and all the hard work on behalf of our next generation. And I can think of no better way to end my time as First Lady than celebrating with all of you.

So I want to close today by simply saying thank you. Thank you for everything you do for our kids and for our country. Being your First Lady has been the greatest honor of my life, and I hope I’ve made you proud.

#activism

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nanenna · 7 years

Text

Mystery Machine Mishap!

Chapter 3: A New Routine

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Fandom: Undertale Rating: General Audiences Pairing: None Summary: There was an accident at the Lab and now Papyrus is left trying to take care of Sans as a toddler while Alphys tries to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. To say Papyrus is unprepared is not just an understatement, it’s downright fact. But Papyrus is determined to be the best big brother ever, even better than Sans is when he’s the older on.

As usual, also available to read on fanfiction.net or AO3 under the same name. (links not included because that messes with the search function)

Nearly a week had gone by. Papyrus found that his days fell into a rhythm as he cared for his little big brother. He couldn’t help but feel forgotten by Alphys, she hadn’t called since that first day, she barely updated her Undernet profile anymore, and even Undyne hadn’t heard much from the reclusive scientist. Papyrus wanted to take it as a good sign, that it meant Alphys was working hard on fixing the machine and getting Sans back to normal. But at the same time he would have liked to hear from her. So after laying Sans down for his afternoon nap, Papyrus pulled up the doctor’s contact info and started a call.

“H-hello?”

“HELLO, DR. ALPHYS!”

“Oh! P-Papyrus! What are you… why are you… what’s g-going on?”

“I WANTED TO FIND OUT HOW YOU ARE DOING. UNDYNE TELLS ME YOU SOMETIMES FORGET TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE EATING AND RESTING REGULARLY.”

“Oh, um… it’s fine. I’m fine, Undyne has been over often to make sure I uh… don’t get lost in my work?? She really wants to help me as much as she can, she says with both you and Sans uh… out of commission th-that the sentry stations are really falling apart.”

“OH DEAR, I WAS SO BUSY TAKING CARE OF SANS THAT I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT HOW MANY SENTRY STATIONS WERE GOING UNMANNED!”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think Undyne has replacements for you either. She wants you both to have jobs waiting for you when uh… when I eventually m-m-manage to fix things.”

“THAT IS THE OTHER REASON I WAS CALLING, I WAS HOPING YOU WOULD TELL ME HOW THINGS ARE GOING. HAVE YOU FINISHED DECIPHERING THE NOTES? HOW BADLY IS THE MACHINE BROKEN?”

“I’ve uh… I’m almost halfway through the notes! I had to use the other blueprints and notes that Sans had already deciphered for me to try and make a cipher for these notes. At first it seemed like it was just a straight one for one alphabet replacement and would be fairly simple, but not all of the translations Sans has written out match up. I was starting to wonder if there were some shifting going on, some sort of extra key I’d need but don’t have, but when I applied the cipher I had first developed to the already translated notes I realized that Sans was summarizing a lot of this stuff, so my cipher actually works! It’s going faster now that I’ve figured that out, the only hard part is just how messy the handwriting is. Whoever wrote all this down has just the worst handwriting!”

“SO NOW THAT YOU HAVE A CIPHER, THINGS WILL MOVE QUICKER? HOW MUCH LONGER DO YOU THINK IT WILL TAKE?”

“Oh, w-well… like I said the handwriting is very m-messy so I have to keep going back and correcting my translations, w-which means my translations are g-getting messy too and uh… even after I finish t-translating all these I still have to start work on the machine itself so uh… it might take a w-while yet.”

“THAT IS FINE, I WOULD RATHER YOU TAKE THINGS SLOW AND GET IT RIGHT THAN TO RUSH AND HAVE AN ACCIDENT YOURSELF!”

“Y-yeah, that’d be just… just awful!” Alphys laughed nervously.

“WELL THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME, DR. ALPHYS. GOOD LUCK!”

“Oh! Okay then, g-good luck to you too! With uh… with little Sans that is. I m-mean, I’m sure you’re taking great c-care of him. And uh… okaygottagohaveagooddaybye!”

There was a faint click as the call abruptly ended, then Papyrus scrolled through his contacts. He hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, but it just felt right. Papyrus hit the call button.

“Hey dork!” Undyne’s voice greeted him.

“HELLO UNDYNE!”

“So what’s going on, the little squirt doing okay?”

“OH SANS IS FINE, HE’S DOWN FOR A NAP RIGHT NOW. I WAS JUST TALKING TO DR. ALPHYS AND SHE REMINDED ME THAT I HAVE BEEN TERRIBLY NEGLECTFUL OF MY DUTIES EVER SINCE THE ACCIDENT.”

“Well yeah, you have a baby to take care of. A literal baby! That’s a lot of work!”

“A TODDLER, BUT THAT IS NO EXCUSE TO NEGLECT MY DUTIES AS A SENTRY! SO TOMORROW I’M GOING TO RESUME MY DUTIES. I’M AFRAID THERE IS NOT MUCH WE CAN DO ABOUT SANS, BUT I CAN AT LEAST RE-CALIBRATE MY PUZZLES, DO MY PATROLS, AND WATCH OUT FOR HUMANS LIKE I’M SUPPOSED TO!”

“Well, if you’re sure...”

“DON’T WORRY, I HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL! NYEH HEH HEH!” Papyrus hit the end call button, then decided to go upstairs and check on Sans. When he got to the top of the stairs his eye sockets were drawn to the end of the hallway where Sans was staring up at the blank wall, one elbow up which probably meant his thumb was in his mouth again, and a bright orange dinosaur plush toy dragging limply from his other hand. “SANS? WHAT RE YOU DOING OVER THERE?”

Sans turned around at Papyrus’s voice, then slowly toddled over to the taller skeleton and raised his arms to be picked up. Papyrus obligingly picked Sans up and cuddled him close. “WHAT IS IT, BROTHER?”

“i miss daddy.” Sans sniffled as he clung to Papyrus, “where daddy?”

“DADDY IS…” Papyrus hesitated, unsure what exactly to tell Sans, “DADDY IS AWAY. RIGHT NOW.” There, that was close enough to the truth. He didn’t want to outright lie to Sans, but he also had no idea how to tell the toddler that he had no idea where their father was or even if he was still alive at all. Papyrus couldn’t remember it, but he was fairly certain their father had Fallen Down a long time ago. He sighed as he rocked the clinging toddler. “I’M SURE HE MISSES YOU AS MUCH AS YOU MISS HIM.”

Sans made an indistinct noise as he buried his face into Papyrus’s shoulder. Well, the only thing to do was to distract him. “WHY DON’T WE GET SOME STURDY CLOTHES ON AND GO OUTSIDE TO PLAY IN THE SNOW? WE CAN BUILD A SNOWMAN!” Papyrus suggested enthusiastically.

Sans gave a small nod, he did like building snowmen with Papyrus.

The next day, after breakfast was finished and the dishes were washed and put away, Papyrus dressed Sans in the warmest clothes they had. Papyrus knew it didn’t really matter, that Sans wouldn’t even feel the cold, but it made him feel better anyway. Papyrus also pulled out one of the things Gerson had sent over: a toddler leash. Papyrus hadn’t felt the need for it yet, he had stayed pretty close to Sans so far or carried the toddler whenever they went somewhere far. But while he was on patrol and re-calibrating his puzzles… Papyrus attached it to Sans, then clipped the other end to his belt.

“TODAY, SANS, WE ARE FINALLY GOING BACK TO WORK. I WILL RE-CALIBRATE ALL OF OUR PUZZLES! AND WE WILL GO ON PATROL! AND WE WILL BE PRODUCTIVE! TOGETHER!”

“yay!” Sans cheered, and Papyrus was so happy to see Sans be enthusiastic about work for once!

“LET’S GO!” Papyrus took Sans outside and they set off. Papyrus knew they had a lot of ground to cover, so he was striding along at his usual, speedy pace.

“pappus! pappus wait!” Sans’s little legs couldn’t keep up. He tried running after Papyrus, tripped, and fell flat on his face.

Papyrus stopped and went back to pick him up, but Sans was already sniffling and whining about the snow in his orbits and nasal cavity. “NOW, NOW, YOU’RE SUCH A BIG MONSTER! NO NEED TO CRY!” Papyrus gently brushed the snow form his brother’s face, then picked Sans up. “WHY DON’T I CARRY YOU TO THE PUZZLES, THEN WE CAN RE-CALIBRATE THEM TOGETHER!” Sans simply nodded as he snuggled into his brother’s arms.

As Papyrus continued to walk Sans perked up and began looking around in interest, he hadn’t been brought past the ‘Welcome to Snowdin’ sign. Not since the accident, anyway. The scenery quickly became boring, just more of the same snow and trees as the town without interesting buildings to break it up. Sans settled into Papyrus’s arms and let himself be carried. Soon they came to the first puzzle, the slippery Xs and Os one. Re-calibrating it was always a challenge for Papyrus, even without a toddler along for the ride, but Papyrus refused to be defeated. He deftly skated across the ice with Sans in one arm and soon had it calibrated perfectly.

“THERE, SEE? I KNEW WE COULD DO IT!”

“’m bored,” Sans whined.

“WELL THAT IS BECAUSE YOU COULD NOT HELP WITH THIS PUZZLE. I AM SURE THE NEXT ONE WILL BE FAR MORE ENTERTAINING. IN FACT, AFTER I RE-CALIBRATE IT YOU SHOULD TRY SOLVING IT!”

Sans nodded, unsure how exciting that really would be.

Papyrus easily stepped over the spikes to the next puzzle and set Sans down. He started working on the puzzle, leaving Sans to his own devices. The toddler ran back and forth over the tiles until all the ones in the leash’s reach were triangles, then he stomped about in the snow. After that grew boring, he picked up a handful of snow and dropped it onto Papyrus’s back as the taller skeleton knelt over the tiles.

“SANS, PLEASE! I’M WORKING!”

Sans huffed, plopped his coccyx in the snow and crossed his arms. He was now thoroughly bored and his brother was ignore him. After a while that got boring too, so Sans got up and ran to the end of his leash, then zigzagged around Papyrus.

Papyrus finally finished with the tile he was working on and got up to move onto the next one. When he stood he immediately lost his balance and fell face first into the snow. There was something caught around his ankles. Papyrus managed to push himself half up and get a look at what had happened: he was completely tangled up in the leash.

“SANS! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Sans just looked up at him with the biggest grin across his face. Papyrus sighed, then untangled himself. He did a quick check of his inventory, he had taken to keeping a couple toys in there for when he needed a quick distraction for Sans. Oh good, he had a pail and little plastic shovel set in there. “HERE SANS, WHY DON’T YOU BUILD A SNOW CASTLE?”

“okay.” Sans took the offered toys and plopped down in the snow. With a sigh of relief Papyrus returned to re-calibrating his puzzle.

“THERE, ALL RE-CALIBRATED! NOW, ONTO THE NEXT PUZZLE.” Sans didn’t resist as Papyrus picked him up and carried him over the spikes to the next puzzle. Having learned from his mistake, Papyrus decided to attach the leash to a nearby tree so Sans couldn’t tangle him up again. Though this shouldn’t take long, this puzzle was much simpler than the one he had just finished.

It turned out this puzzle had taken some damage the more complex puzzle hadn’t. Not only did Papyrus have to re-calibrate it, he had to thaw and repair it first. Eventually everything was finished and the puzzle was good as new. Papyrus dusted off his hands in satisfaction as he looked down at the puzzle. “THERE, ALL DONE! DO YOU WANT TO TRY SOLVING THIS ONE, SANS?” Papyrus turned to where he had left the toddler, “SANS?” The toddler harness was abandoned in the snow, the leash still attached to the tree. “SANS!” Papyrus ran over to the tree, little footprints lead further up the path. Papyrus thanked his lucky stars that today it wasn’t snowing and the tracks were untouched.“IT’S OKAY,” Papyrus told himself as he followed the tiny little footprints, “SANS WON’T BE ABLE TO GET PAST THE SPIKES AT THE NEXT PUZZLE, HE’S TOO SMALL!”

A surge of panic welled up in Papyrus’s chest, the spikes to the next puzzle were down. It needed to be re-calibrated. And Sans’s footprints lead right through the thin layer of snow over the retracted spikes. Papyrus tried not to panic as he kept following the footprints, then a noise caught his attention. It sounded like something was whining and… snuffling? Breathing of some kind, and lots of it. He looked around the next tree and found a pile of dogs gathered around a happily squealing babybones.

“puppy!” Sans declared as he tried to pet Doggo, Dogamy, and Dogaressa all at once.

(Puppy!) Dogaressa agreed as she happily wagged her tail and sniffed at Sans’s hands.

“SANS! THERE YOU ARE! YOU HAD ME WORRIED SICK!” Papyrus ran over and picked Sans up, cuddling his babybones brother close. “DON’T EVER WANDER OFF LIKE THAT AGAIN!”

“Hello Papyrus!” The three dogs greeted as they all rolled onto their feet and got up.

Dogamy held up a paw in greeting, “Why is Sans out here?”

(… so far from town?) Dogaressa continued.

“I’M WATCHING HIM, OF COURSE!”

Dogamy and Dogaressa looked at each other, then back at Papyrus. “Make sure to keep an eye on the little pup.”

(We wouldn’t want him to get lost.)

“I KNOW,” Papyrus assured. “HE CAN BE QUITE THE SLIPPERY SNAIL SOMETIMES, BUT I AM KEEPING A VERY CAREFUL EYE SOCKET ON HIM.”

“Hmmm...” Dogamy hummed to himself, but otherwise said nothing.

Doggo pulled out a dog treat and started to light it, only to be smacked by Dogaressa. (Not near the puppy!)

“Alright, alright. Sheesh!” Doggo turned and started wandering towards his sentry station.

“WELL, I’VE GOT MORE ROUNDS TO DO AND PUZZLEs TO RE-CALIBRATE.”

“We’ll see you later,” Dogamy called.

“SAY GOODBYE TO THE DOGGIES, SANS.”

“bye bye, I love you!”

There was a gasp, followed by, (“We love you too”) as Papyrus carried Sans away.

The rest of Papyrus’s shift went off without a hitch, he managed to keep Sans busy or distracted enough to not wander off again. After stopping off at home to feed Sans and grab a few more snacks and toys, Papyrus carried Sans towards Waterfall.

“gun?” Sans asked as they entered the damp caverns.

“NO, WE’RE NOT GOING TO VISIT GERSON TODAY. WE’RE GOING TO GO SEE AUNTY UNDYNE.”

“aunty!” Sans yelled happily and threw his arms up in the air.

Undyne was waiting for them outside her house, foot tapping impatiently as they entered the little nook her house was tucked in. “Papyrus,” Undyne grit out angrily.

“HELLO UNDYNE, WE’RE HERE FOR MY WARRIOR TRAINING!”

Undyne ground her teeth, “Papyrus I just… I can’t believe you!”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND, WHAT DON’T YOU BELIEVE?” Sans started fussing as Papyrus stared at Undyne in confusion.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D DO SOMETHING SO… SO..!” Rather than finish her sentence, Undyne yelled at the cavern roof. Sans hid his face in Papyrus’s shoulder, his bones started rattling. “You took a small child with you out into the middle of the woods while you were WORKING! And what’s more, YOU LOST HIM! Do you have any idea how lucky you are the Dogi found him?!” Papyrus tried to speak but Undyne just kept going. “What if the Dogi hadn’t found him? What if someone dangerous had? Or what if he had fallen off one of those cliffs? What would you have done if he had gotten lost in the woods and you couldn’t find him?!”

“THAT’S-”

“And then you brought him to WARRIOR TRAINING?! Papyrus! You can’t bring a toddler to warrior training! He’s a toddler for the Angel’s sake!”

“UNDYNE, YOU’RE SCARING SANS.” Papyrus ran a soothing hand up and down the trembling toddler’s spine.

“He shouldn’t even be here right now. And if you can’t get someone to take care of him for you, neither should you!”

Papyrus’s jaw opened and closed a few times, then he turned and walked away. The walk home was much slower, Papyrus kept pausing every now and then to whisper comforting words to the still trembling toddler in his arms. One of those times was next to the bridge seed puzzle, and Sans finally responded.

“aunty meeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaan!” He wailed loudly, then burst into big, messy tears. Papyrus was relieved, if a little sad that is battle body was going to need to be washed again. The subdued trembling had stopped, and the wailing he knew how to handle. By the time they made it home Sans had quieted down to sniffles and muffled sobs that meant all Papyrus would have to do was clean him up and put on a cheerful face to distract him. Maybe put him down for a nap since he was overdue. “aunty mean,” Sans repeated once they were through the door.

“YES, UNDYNE WAS BEING QUITE FORCEFUL, BUT SHE ONLY YELLED LIKE THAT BECAUSE SHE REALLY CARES AND WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU.”

“aunty mean,” Sans insisted angrily.

“AND SHE WON’T BE AGAIN, BECAUSE I AM GOING TO TAKE EVEN BETTER CARE OF YOU THAN BEFORE, SO SHE WON’T HAVE A REASON TO WORRY LIKE THAT AGAIN! NOW! LET’S GET YOU CLEANED UP, IT CAN’T BE COMFORTABLE HAVING YOUR SKULL COVERED IN SNOT AND DRIED TEARS!” Sans huffed, but otherwise made no fuss as Papyrus carried him upstairs to get washed up.

The next morning Papyrus walked Sans over to the Libarby, careful to keep his steps slow and small so the toddler could keep up. Inside the librarian greeted Papyrus and Sans cheerfully, “And is Sans here for the daycare?”

“YES, I WAS TOLD I COULD LEAVE HIM WITH YOU WHILE I TEND TO MY DUTIES.”

“Of course,” the librarian chirped cheerfully, “we just need you to sign him in.” The librarian pushed a clipboard over to Papyrus, which he quickly filled out.

“OKAY SANS, BE GOOD FOR THE LIBRARIANS WHILE I’M GONE.”

“no!” Sans attached himself to Papyrus’s boot and glared up at the librarian.

“SANS, PLEASE!”

“Don’t you want to play with the other children?” The librarian’s question had Sans pausing to look up at her inquisitively. “You can walk him back, a lot of children get over their separation anxiety easier when they have other children to distract them.”

“GREAT IDEA! COME ALONG SANS, LET’S GO MEET THE OTHER CHILDREN YOU WILL BE SPENDING THE DAY WITH.” Sans allowed himself to be led into the back of the library where a few other young children were already playing with toys. A curious puppy trotted over to the new comers and sniffed at Sans.

“puppy!” Sans squealed happily before enthusiastically petting the puppy.

“Pets!” The puppy happily squealed back, their tail already thrashing about. Sans was so engrossed by his new playmate that he didn’t even notice Papyrus quietly sneaking away.

When Papyrus returned to pick Sans up that afternoon, Sans dropped the toy he had been holding and ran full tilt into Papyrus’s legs. “HELLO SANS, DID YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY PLAYING WITH THE OTHER CHILDREN?”

“missed you,” Sans grumbled as he clung to his bother’s legs.

“I MISSED YOU TOO, HOW ABOUT WE GO HOME NOW?”

“ok.” Sans held his arms up, refusing to budge until Papyrus picked him up.

“Don’t forget your drawings,” one of the librarians called as she held out a few papers to Papyrus.

“OH! I CAN’T WAIT TO LOOK AT THESE! I’LL PUT THEM RIGHT UP ON THE FRIDGE.” A big, excited grin was plastered over Papyrus’s face as he accepted the drawings.

Sans smiled bashfully and leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder, “love you, pappus.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO, SANS.” Papyrus dropped a kiss on top of Sans’s skull as they left the library.

Once home Sans refused to be put down, so Papyrus simply settled on the couch with Sans in his lap as he began looking through the drawings Sans had made. The first one was a lot of black shapes scribbled all over the page.

“WHAT’S THIS?”

“a bastard!” Sans replied as he pointed to one of the empty spots the black was scribbled around.

“A… A BASTARD?” Papyrus asked in disbelief.

“yeah! it goes bweeeeeeeen!” Sans held his hand up to his teeth and made a “roar” motion.

Papyrus looked back at the drawing, if the black were background and not the drawing itself like Papyrus had originally assumed… “OH, A BLASTER! YOU MEAN OUR SPECIAL ATTACK.” Papyrus summoned a blaster to illustrate his point.

Sans clapped his hands and pointed at the large skull floating serenely in the living room, “bastard! bastard!”

Papyrus dispelled the attack before an accident could happen, it was never wise to summon attacks indoors after all. “IT’S PRONOUNCED ‘BLASTER’, SANS. BLA-STER.”

“baster.”

“GETTING CLOSER.” He flipped to the next drawing, it was three faces. He could tell one was him and one was Sans, which meant the third one must be their father. Since it was just their faces this time there were more details, like uneven pupils inside their father’s eyes. Then again, the pupils Sans drew for his own eyes weren’t even either, it was likely just due to his toddlery hand-eye coordination. Aside from the pupils and what Papyrus could only assume was a pair of square-ish glasses, their father’s face looked very similar to his own, right down to the exaggerated cheekbones Sans had given them both.

“thaz you an’ me an’ daddy!” Sans cheerfully explained as he pointed to the faces.

“I CAN TELL, YOU DREW US VERY WELL.” The next drawing was their father again, this time alone. A full body picture that had their father wearing a long, white coat with dark clothes under it and some sort of square thing in on hand. “AND THIS IS DADDY TOO, RIGHT?”

“yeah!” Sans said excitedly. “when daddy come home?”

“I… I DON’T KNOW.” Papyrus admitted sadly. He really wished he could remember their father, or what had happened to him. Papyrus flipped to the next drawing, the first one to actually have any color in it. “OH! IT’S ME! AND MY BATTLE BODY!”

“yeah!” Sans grinned up at Papyrus.

The older skeleton felt tears welling up in his eye sockets, “THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DRAWING I’VE EVER SEEN! I’M GOING TO GET THIS FRAMED!” Papyrus hugged Sans, which the toddler returned while giggling. After they had a moment to calm down, Papyrus flipped to the last picture. “IS THIS GRILLBY?”

“girby!”

The picture featured an orange, vaguely flame shaped blob with a few black shapes below it that could be Grillby’s usual vest and bow tie if you turned your head and squinted. “WE’LL HAVE TO SHOW THIS TO GRILLBY NEXT TIME WE SEE HIM, I’M SURE HE’LL BE VERY FLATTERED.”

“girby,” Sans said again, more quietly this time.

Papyrus picked Sans up and walked into the kitchen, “IN THE MEANTIME, LET’S PUT THESE ALL UP ON THE FRIDGE.” It was already overflowing with the drawings Sans had made, but Papyrus couldn’t bear the thought of taking any of them down. He shuffled the drawings around until there was room for the new ones, which were promptly put on display. “THERE! NOW, WHO’S READY FOR DINNER?”

“dinner!” Sans repeated and threw his hands into the air.

This chapter has some of my favorite lines, including my all fic favorite: bastard! I love it so much! I just... I’m so glad I came up with that. *wipes a tear away*

#undertale #nenna writes #myster machine mishap!#humor and fluff #queue

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