#without the slightest hint of camp or twinkle in his eye

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

235. Witchfinder General (1968)

[roscoe-dream]

Happy Ending || Thomas

A/N: quite the opposite of a happy ending. oops. also I tried writing in bigger paragraphs so it didn’t seem so long, but I have a wattpad mindset to break every single paragraph. ugh.

word count: 2,055

WARNINGS: small mention of death (there isn’t a scene or anything). waterwork central. i teared up multiple times writing this.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

Words couldn’t even express his emotions.

When he woke up, he was confused. He was scared, he was worried. Had WCKD caught up to them? Where was he?

Stepping out of the cloth tent, he instantly reached to shield his eyes from the beaming rays of the sun, his sight not yet used to the brightness. The people of the Safe Haven paused their actions as Thomas stumbled through, watching in awe at the fact that they were a few metres from their savior.

He ignored the looks he was receiving, but instead let his own eyes wander about, looking at the sturdy construction of the huts that looked as though they’ve been built months ago, as well as the plantations that were distanced a few feet away from one another.

Was this it?

The Safe Haven, was he actually here?

Thomas pointed his gaze to the sea, feeling his body wash over with serenity as he watched the warm sun slowly hide behind the ocean. As he did this, he failed to notice someone walking in his direction after noticing his arrival.

The thuds of feet didn’t pull Thomas’ eyes away from the view of the waves, but rather the string of curses that came from the mouth of the Brit.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder eagerly, rocking Thomas’ body causing the brunette to snap his head in that very direction. “Hey there, Greenie.” Newt gave him a nod, a light sparkling in his beady eyes. Thomas couldn’t believe it, he was staring right at his best friend, who had died right in front of him. Newt acknowledged his stunned expression, a snort escaping him. “If Gally can do it, I should be able to as well.” He reasoned, making a ghost of a smile appear on Thomas.

But just as quick as it appeared, it vanished. His whiskey eyes filled to the brim with tears as he turned to his first friend, grabbing onto his shoulder tightly before pulling Newt into the tightest hug he could muster. “I’m sorry,” Thomas mumbled, his eyes clenching shut as he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” He finally admitted, sniffling before pulling away to look into a pair of sincere eyes.

Newt simply shook his head, squeezing Thomas’ shoulder. “That’s just it. You did save me. You saved us.” He reassured, turning Thomas back into the direction of the bottom of the hill where he could see all of his fellow survivors. “You saved all of us. We wouldn’t be here without you, Tommy.”

Thomas slowly looked away from the camp, turning back to Newt, with even more questions. “But.. h-how? When I left.. when I left you, you were-” His voice could barely go above a whisper, afraid that if he raised his voice in the slightest, this would just disappear from his vision.

It was Newt’s turn to become hesitant, glancing down at his boots before returning back to Thomas. “Y/N.” He stated eventually, and the dark haired boy perked up immediately at the sound of your name, his body flooding with concern and worry as he realized you were not at his side or Newt’s. “She found me, after going with Minho to get the serum.” Newt paused, his eyes glazing over as he observed the crashing of the waves on the shore.

Thomas took note of his sudden change of mood, which only caused his concern and worry for the girl to increase. “Newt,” His voice was weary, but there was warning in his tone as he watched his blonde friend clam up just speaking about you. Releasing a slow breath, Newt eyed him, keeping eye contact to a minimum. “She uh, she got me back to Minho.. and then she-” It shocked Thomas to see Newt choke on his own sob, and the sinking feeling in his stomach let him know that Newt’s words were not going to end the way either of them wanted it to.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. She didn’t make it.”

In an instant, Thomas’ heart was in his stomach. The boy gapped at him, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks as he frantically searched Newt’s saddened gaze in hopes of finding a hint of amusement — Thomas hoped this was some sort of sick joke to wake up to, and that you would pop up with that beaming smile that always seemed to make his day a little lighter.

He swiftly turned his body in the direction of camp, his hazel eyes squinting as he made out as many faces as he could see from on top of the hill he was perched on. He barely had time to realize his own rapid breathing before Newt stepped closer to him, resting his hand on his shoulder once again. “She’s not here.” His words were soft, and careful. He didn’t want anymore damage to be done.

It was all too real. It was too real, and too soon.

Thomas let himself break, a ear piercing shout leaving his pink lips as he buried his face into Newt’s shoulder. The blonde boy didn’t jump like the campers did, he knew what was coming, and he also knew that the only thing he could do was hold his best friend while his heart broke for Y/N.

The broken babbles that Thomas spoke were too slurred to comprehend, and his mind was a prison — it was torture.

You was supposed to be here. If anybody deserved to have this happy ending, it was Y/N. He promised you that he would give you this happy ending, no matter what it takes.

“Tommy?”

Your voice was light, barely above a whisper as you caught the attention of the boy, his whiskey colored eyes on you immediately as you kept yours locked with the twinkling stars.

The pair of you were in the middle of the Glade, laying on the ground and watching the stars away from your friends who were sleeping in your makeshift beds. Sound was easily picked up on, so you both did your best to keep your volume low to avoid getting caught by Alby.

“Yeah?” He mumbled, his eyes trailing over the side of your face, memorizing them. Thomas didn’t turn away when you shifted your head to the side, catching gazes with him and staring at each other.

It was silent for a few moments, the two of you laying side by side comfortably and admiring each other’s features. “Where do you think we’d be, you know, in another life?”

The question left Thomas pondering, not having an answer of his own. He raised his eyebrows, silently signaling you to keep talking. You took the hint, rolling onto your side and resting the side of your head in your hand, your elbow keeping you propped up, offering him a soft smile.

“Well, in another life, we wouldn’t be in the maze.” You giggled, a sound that Thomas found himself melting at. His lips curled up in a smile as you spoke, listening intently. “I don’t know,” You shrugged lightly, glancing down at the blades of grass you were fumbling with before locking eyes with Thomas’ hazel ones.

“I guess in another life, we’d be together.” You whispered shyly, a strawberry blush coating your cheeks. “Me and you, all of us. We’d be with everyone in here, and we’d have a life better than the ones we had before we were put in here.” Your bottom lip found its way to your teeth, and you chewed on it as you thought of your next few words. “We’d have a happy ending.”

Your eyes were on the blades of grass now, avoiding Thomas’ stares at all costs. He noticed this, grabbing your hands in his and pulling you both up into a sitting position, his fingers laced with yours.

“You, more than anyone, deserve a happy ending.” He whispered to you sincerely, the pads of his thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. “You’ve been in the maze for three years. I’ve been here for almost a week, and it’s not ideal.” He tried to joke, smiling proudly when he was able to pull a small laugh out of you.

Your laughter died down and Thomas was staring at you in a way that was unfamiliar to you. Suddenly the feeling of him rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles shot a feeling straight to the pit of your stomach. Your cheeks flushed, and you began to grow flustered at Thomas’ gaze on you, but still, you didn’t want it to stop.

“You will have your happy ending, Y/N.” He insisted, tone even, yet assuring. “No matter what it takes, even if it’s the last thing I do. I will give you your happy ending.”

Thomas let out a yelp of surprise, followed by a small ‘oomf’ when you crashed your body into his, hugging onto him tightly. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as your arms wrapped around him. His body shook with laughter at the sudden action of affection you gave him, but held you close to him regardless.

“Thank you, Tommy.”

Thomas finally lifted his head from Newt’s shoulder, his wrist coming up to wipe at his bloodshot eyes. He didn’t dare meet the blonde boy’s stare, instead he looked out at the setting sun.

“This was it, Newt.” He broke the silence, shaking his head almost as if he were disappointed in himself. “This was her happy ending. Y/N’s happy ending, and she’s not even here to see it.”

Thomas was angry. He was angry at himself for keeping a promise to you that he couldn’t keep, for being here and instead of you. It didn’t feel right to him to live on paradise without you by his side. A sound of disbelief resonated from Newt, his arms crossed over his chest as he glanced over at the brunette. “‘Any ending where he’s happy, is a happy ending for me.’”

Thomas turned to look at the Brit, his eyebrows furrowed to match his perplexed stare. “What?” He was confused to say the least, unknowing of the quote Newt said out of the blue.

“It’s what she said to me before she,” He paused, gesturing with his hand before it slipped back into his armpit. “You know. I didn’t get it until now.” He spoke with a fond smile on his face, and a distant look in his eyes. “She loved you, you know.”

Once again, the feeling of Thomas’ heart in his stomach returned, simultaneously breaking. “I know.” The words were blunt, and it hurt him to say it. Newt’s bushy brows rose at the confession, a low hum emitting from his chest. “And you loved her.”

The statement now made Thomas sigh, giving him a reluctant nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Okay. So don’t be a twat and spend the rest of your life here on this beautiful island in agony because of this. It’s okay to grief, it’s okay to mourn, Tommy.” With every word that came from Newt’s mouth, he inched closer to Thomas until his arm was wrapped around his shoulders in a side hug. “But live the life you’re deserving of. And if you can’t do it for you, do it for her. Live your life for Y/N.”

The last few words of Newt’s small speech really struck a cord with Thomas.

So as he stood in front of the large boulder full of carved names, he clutched the metal carving tools in his shaking hands.

“You can do it, Thomas.” Minho’s voice piped up from behind him, followed by a few other encouraging words from Newt, Teresa, Gally, Frypan, and Brenda.

He let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, and began to carve out your name underneath the chubby boy with the rosy cheeks you took under your wing when he had first arrived in the box before Thomas.

His heart was broken, in need of mending, in need of you. He was finally free of needles, free of cranks, free of walls. Free of WCKD.

Thomas was finally home, but deep down, he knew that home would never be home without you here with him.

[captainshadowshifter]

Ok so apparently I feel brave again today, and honestly tumblr peeps I'm really sorry for being like this, but I really want to up my confidence in the stuff I create by just pushing it out there - taking the leap, so to say.

So!

Below is a little something I wrote a couple years back (when I thought about not making my fanfic/AU as a comic, but instead writing it properly) and I haven't touched it since so it's really badly written, but it's one of my favourite parts of the story I created and yes I am kinda proud of it.

A little context first, this is a little further into the story (even further now because the SABA timeline slotted in so nicely before the other game-based sections), so there's some backstory I'm not gonna cover - some of it is easy enough to figure out anyway. The character Shadow, she's my OC (blog name lmao), and yes they are a 'thing' (I was going through some stuff it made me feel better stop judging me). Shadow takes the place of Sackboy, but I seem to have made it somewhat more... Human, realistic, whatever. They're on the run from a new villain, my absolute favourite villain I created for this story, because I mean dragon-demon-snake things, the best. Also they're on a new planet in the Imagisphere, because hey Huge Spaceship can never stay flying long ¬w¬. There's a dark theme to this whole story, I won't deny it, so please don't read this thing if you're likely to be affected by a vague suicidal hint (it's literally right in the last sentence, and I do mean vague) - I really don't want to hurt anyone, and I know that just because projecting my own issues helps me to cope doesn't mean it's good for everybody else.

Ok ok I'll stop rambling now, here it is. Hidden behind a keep reading thing so that anyone who doesn't want to read it won't by accident.

-----------------------------------------------------

He had been noticing it for a while. All the little things; the little tell-tale signs that were so discreet no one noticed, but not so invisible he hadn't noticed them himself. The little flashes of violet and indigo across his face, the slight (but dismissible) desire to destroy things - even an occasional hatred for Shadow and the others, of which he didn't want to bring himself to understand, despite already knowing. He did, however, understand that they were getting worse, more noticeable. The mood swings he could simply put down to fatigue; everyone else had them, too (though not as bad), since they'd hardly stopped running for the past week or so, and as such they were all tired and somewhat irritable. However, the fact that he managed to contribute to building something using his popit without being sent flying face first into some trees was, while a pleasant surprise, a cause for concern - and not something that could be put to much else other than a miracle. He was sure, if no one else, Shadow would notice something was up – after all, she had quite the knack for picking up on things like that. Newton knew he had to tread very carefully around her so as not to arouse suspicion, because the slightest hint of a doubt about his control over the Titans could cause a variation of problems (most likely higher levels of mistrust, he figured), the worst possible of which was by far that conversation. ‘I don’t really fancy talking about countermeasures...’ he thought to himself. ‘It’s not as though I can just get rid of them... They have to do that on their own.’

Later that night, however, something changed. Sat on top of his sleeping bag with his knees tucked up to his chest, Newton was staring into a small round mirror. The entire right hand side of his face had turned a pale violet – not dissimilar to that of what he hated about his past, and feared was going to happen again. He glanced over his shoulder to see Shadow sleeping peacefully beside him. ‘This is problematic.... I can’t risk putting everyone in danger just so she doesn’t get upset...’ He closed his eyes for a moment, and just as the lights dimmed he opened them again, a flash of dejected determination in his mind. ‘... No.. For once... I am entirely certain that this...’ He picked up a pen and Shadow’s notebook, and flicked through the pages to find one that was blank. This proved more difficult than anticipated; almost every page had scrawls of tragic tales, comical doodles or various greatly detailed sketches of fantasies from other worlds. Eventually he found a blank space, on the back of a page containing a sketch she’d done of him a few days prior. He remembered that she’d asked him to sit still while she did so – so obviously, he’d made every effort to do the exact opposite. A hint of a smile flashed for a second on his face at the memory, and he heard a distant ‘awwh’ from Green as she watched. Newton blocked out the thought, and began to write. ‘.. this is the right thing to do.’ He thought to himself as he ever so gently tore the page out of the book and laid it on his sleeping bag, then stood up, picked up his boots and left as silently as was possible from the tent – and darkness then fell.

The stars twinkled softly through the rustling leaves above him as he strode through the undergrowth. He had no idea where he was going, not even the direction he had taken from the camp – but he knew as long as he moved away from it everyone would be safe. As a purple mist clouded over his vision he scrunched his eyes closed tight and rubbed the back of his sleeve against them before breaking into a jog. ‘GO AWAY!! I DON’T WANT TO HURT THEM AGAIN!!!’. He began to sprint, the leaves of the Neumoran plants cutting into his hands as he pushed them away, until suddenly they disappeared as he broke out onto a clearing. He skidded to a halt and opened his eyes, panicked that he’d simply gone in a circle and ended up where he started – where he didn’t want to be. However, the clearing he’d come to was a gentle grassy slope, with most edges housing a steep slope, excluding the one he’d emerged from that was framed by the thick trees and bushes. And at the top of the slope, just away from the edge, was a singular tree that twisted and curled around itself and up into the sky, topped by thick layers of emerald leaves. The tree’s roots snaked in and out of the ground to form small hollows and ledges that would be perfect for sitting. Newton sighs in relief, then slowly walks forwards to the tree, peering over the edge and the distance below it. ‘... Well that would be a good backup plan, I guess... Just like back then...’

[rosywaifu]

Home {A Percy Jackson Oneshot}

Hi Everyone! This is for @coldheartedgay ‘s AU: 

“Can I ask a small request from a PJ AU I made? The general premise is that Half Bloods are born with certain hair color depending on their Godly Parent. Percy - Aqua Annabeth - Silverish blonde Grover - Deep Green Etc.” 

I read this request at one in the morning, so I may have gone a little off-book so if this isn’t what you had in mind, LMK and I will redo it to what you actually wanted! But, when I reread it this morning, I thought what I wrote was actually kind of cute so here you go! Please, enjoy and keep requesting, I love it!! 

Percy brushed the hair from his forehead, trying different hairstyles by pushing and pulling the strands in different positions. He made faces at his reflection; pouted lips, smoldering eyes, sucked in cheeks for the haute couture look. Finally, he let his aquamarine locks flop against his forehead framing the deep green eyes staring back at him. He was worried about today. If all went well, he’d be engaged. He gave his appearance a last once-over and walked out of his cabin. The air was warm but he was able to stay cool from the breeze coming in from the ocean. He brushed the invisible dirt from his dark blue dress shirt, not being able to keep from fidgeting from his nerves. He tucked and smoothed and picked at his entire shirt to keep his nerves smothered. Once he reached the door of the Athena Cabin, he was sure his shirt was worse than when he started. After a deep breath of the May evening air, he rapped his knuckles three times sharply against the dark oak wood. He took a step back to let the air take hold in the space between him and the door. Hardly a second passes before the door swings open to reveal the silver haired beauty that was Annabeth. Percy drank in her appearance appreciatively; soft, silvery hair curled like a princesses draping down her shoulders with just the slightest bounce. Her tanned skin sporting a bright smile. Her dark grey sweater dress contrasted nicely against her hair and complimented her skin tone. Her camp necklace adorned on her neck. Percy thought she was incredibly beautiful and could hardly keep himself from proposing right there in the door way in front of all her siblings. “Wow, Seaweed Brain, you look great! Very dashing.” She smiled as she teased slightly with her words, but meaning every one. “Not so bad your self, Wise Girl. Took my breath away.” He said smoothly making her smile as she clasped his hand tightly into her own as she closed the door behind her. “Ah, I thought Piper got a little crazy with all the primping but seeing how smart you’re dressed, i’m glad she made me look so nice- even for just a casual date.” She sighed as she talked, half because she was so content with walking with Percy right then and half because she was frustrated he never gets any of the hints she’s dropping to have him propose. Annabeth wasn’t normally one to beat around the bush, but she had let Piper and Hazel convince her that proposing was a delicate matter. She had to use subtlety, they said. It had been 3 months now and Annabeth was about ready to shove that subtlety right in its—

“So, I thought we’d have a picnic near the strawberry fields and the water.” Percy’s voice musing out his plan for the evening kept her from finishing her derailed train of thought. “Sounds lovely, Percy.” They walked in step to the place where Percy was sure he pulled off the most romantic picnic area that ever was. A deep blue and grey plush rug, mechanical candles (as to not start and forest fires), fresh strawberries, cherries, macaroons, and sparkling lemonade. He wanted to get champagne to toast to like they do in the movies, but Chiron, as happy as he was that Percy was proposing the Annabeth, would not bend the rules of no alcohol on camp; even to those of legal drinking age. So, sparkling lemonade it was. Annabeth gasped at all the effort, Percy went through- all the food and drink with the candles glowing in the fading blue sky, even lily pads with little pink and purple flowers floated atop to the water in the little inlet. The whole area looked like a magic forest. She gave Percy a big smile who looked a little sheepish at her happiness. He wanted to make this their most memorable date yet. Sure it was happening at camp, and not a fancy french restaurant but camp was home and their favorite place to be, especially with each other. They sat down and talked about random things and nearly anything that popped into her head. Annabeth talked about the new building design she came up with, explaining all the intricate and delicate ideas and designs she came up for it. Percy half listened to Annabeth, truly trying to listen no matter how hard it was for him to pay attention when she talked about stuff like architecture. He wasn’t super into it but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to pay attention and ask quality questions. The other half fretted about the right time to pop the question without cutting her off too soon or waiting until the end of the date. Soon, Annabeth started asking questions for Percy; how his day went, what he had done since the last time they saw each other (which was only since breakfast that morning). Percy’s tensed shoulders relaxed at talking about the sea animal he got to save that day; a large sea dragon of sorts, about the size of a baby calf, got caught in flurry of fisherman’s hook, fishing poles and netting. He got pretty banged up and his dad sent word to him, via hippocampi, that the mythical creature needed his help. And Percy truly animated when he told the tale of his daring rescue, diving under the ocean waves, swimming as far as the English docks to rescue the incredible creature. Annabeth smiled as she could literally feel the love he had for animals. Eventually, the evening began winding down as Percy felt the anticipation buzzing his every nerve. Annabeth began to clean up but Percy stopped her quickly. “Hold off on that a second. I-i have to talk to you..” his voice was jilted and stiff. Annabeth had a gut instant fear that he was breaking up with her. Would Percy really be the type of guy who would give her a great last date before breaking her heart, like how you give your dog the best last day before having to put him down just so they have one last good memory? Percy, with how completely endearing he is, and idiotic, would probably think a great last date would ease the blow of a breakup, unknowing how wrong he was. Annabeth’s moment of doubt was quickly scrubbed away as she remembered how amazing her relationship was with her boyfriend. Things started to ease as they left their teen years behind; calm and soothing. They spent a great deal of time with one another but still had their own friends and lives as to not smother one another. In fact, it was her relationship being so great that led her to wanting to get married in the first place. She stood up and grasped Percy’s hand gently as he led her a tad closer to the water, wanting to feel the comfortable rock of the waves; encouraging him. He knelt down and grasped both her hands tightly in his grasp. “Annabeth, I love you so much, I would probably, no actually i know i would have died without you back when we were twelve on our first quest together. You have saved my butt so many times over the last ten years, I know i’ve saved yours at least half as many. Without you, my life would be less interesting. I wouldn’t know any of the differences of buildings, I wouldn’t understand what it means to be a hero at all without you teaching me your resolve, confidence, determination and power. You are the most incredible, smart, beautiful, infuriating and talented person i’ve ever met. I love getting lost in our discussions on the lives of the greeks might going on, I love getting lost in ADHD and caffeine fueled ramblings. I love to being in the same room as you. I have been building to this moment for years now.” He pulled out a ring box and exposed the small and dainty silver ring, with the most intricate engraving of wave designs and olive branches interchanging curling up to wrap around the small and modest ocean colored jewel. The jewel seemed to change color with the light passing through it giving it the appearance as if the jewel contained a part of the Mediterranean sea within it. “Annabeth “Wise Girl” Chase, will you do me the absolute pleasure of becoming your husband, your meddling partner, for good?” His eyes twinkled with hope and promise, a smile tearing his face apart as he stared adoringly at her deep storming grey eyes pool with love and excitement. Annabeth fell to her knees, a large smile unable to be constrained on her face. “Yes! Gods, yes seaweed brain! I love you!” And before Percy could slip the dainty ring on her finger, she pulled him into a kiss, embracing him fully, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. His own arms pulling her closer into him, wrapping his own arms tightly around her waist. Seconds later, they pulled apart and Percy was able to pull the ring from the box and slide it softly onto her ring finger. As he did so, Annabeth reveled in the fact that some times when the light danced perfectly on the sparkling jewel, it looked like it was colored as vibrantly aqua as Percy’s hair. Percy watched her face smile at her new rings as she admired it. “I got the jewel straight from the ocean. I went deep sea diving for months looking for the perfect one. When I saw it, the filtered light from the sun streaking through the ocean made it look silvery blue and it reminded me of you; your eyes and your hair. Plus I had Leo and Tyson design the actual ring part, giving my two-sense about the design here and there of course but they built it. However i did make sure they included a specific point.” He smiled conspiratorially, making her arch her eyebrow in piqued curiosity. He gently grabbed her wrist and gently pushed the jewel deeper into the ring. It turned into a half shield, covering her wrist to her elbow and about her arms width above and below. She marveled at the beautiful shield; deep silver with the etched designs of ocean waves and olive branches seemingly moving in wave patterns across the shield. “I named it stavroménoi erastés, meaning Star Crossed Lovers, as a reminder I guess that even though our parents hated each other, our friendship and love can survive and conquer anything. To always protect you and to have a little piece of me when we’re apart.” He winked with the boyish grin adorning his features. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw something move near the bushes. And thanks to the nearby ocean, Percy had the same quick instinct. With incredible precision from years of battle reflexes, that and living this close to a forest packed with monsters and Clarisse, Percy drew his sword Riptide from his pocking, dislodging the cap as he pulled it out, ready for use just as Annabeth shielded part of her face with her shiny new sword as she drew the dagger that had previously been strapped to the outside of her upper thigh. They pointed their weapons to the noise, poised to attack at the slightly motion of an ambush. “Show yourself!” Annabeth called with incredible strength, almost making Percy want to drop his weapon at her mercy. He thanked all the gods on his good list that he never had to be on the business end of her dagger like that. Suddenly a large tuft of forest green hair appeared above some of the bushes, sporting rather silly looking branches, that Annabeth quickly deciphered as horns. Soon a glimpse of pink hair, flaming red hair, sky blue hair, dark black hair, dark, oil slicked-looking red hair, bright gold hair and blood red hair peaked over the top. Percy And Annabeth shared amused looks before lowering their weapons. The spots of colored hair soon officially identified themselves as Grover, Piper, Clarisse, Jason, Nico, Leo, Hazel and Frank. They all shared a slight look of embarrassment but it was more or less overshadowed by their excitement. “S-s-sorry, guys! We couldn’t help but watch! We would never want to miss the proposal of Percabeth!” Grover bleated. He ran and gave Percy the manliest embrace he could muster. Suddenly, the whole gang was surrounding them, cheering him for finally being able to muster the courage to do it, admiring the ring, and celebrating their engagement between the favorite couple of camp half-blood. As much as Percy wanted to be mad and embarrassed that they had all heard him pour his heart out and let it gush all over the place, he was actually very glad to have his own little cheer squad, cheering him on and lending their support to this anticipated moment. Annabeth was a little more angry than Percy but her anger quickly subsided as her friends gushed over the idea of a wedding making her insides feel all giddy and excited. The stole a glance at one another over the roar of love and support from their friends, no- family and admired each others glow of love making their hair glitter silver and aqua in the bright, sparkling moon. He was so glad he proposed, knowing right there, right then, the wedding would most definitely take place here at camp; at home.

Word Count: 2,261

[shimmershaewrites]

Random bits and lines from Caryl fics that could have been.  Still maybe could be, if I ever get rid of this big ball of hurt and disappointment in the pit of my belly.

1.   

 Merle's all hyped up when he busts through the trailer door.  Dumps the six pack in his arms on the lumpy sofa and just grins at him. 

 It's not the coat hanger grin Daryl's so used to suffering when his brother's at his most obnoxious or the manic baring of teeth that usually accompanies one of his drug-fueled spirals.  No.  This one's full of...wonder?  "Hell's wrong with you?"

 "Ask me what I just saw off Mile Marker 73.  Go 'head.  Ask me," he all but begs, bending down to free a beer from its plastic necklace.  Liberates another one and tosses it at him with no warning. 

 Daryl grunts.  Rubs at the sore spot on his chest through the sweat-dampened cotton of his wife-beater.  Scowls at the asshole as he pops the tab.  Shit ain't even cold.  It's lukewarm at best and goddammit do they need a better place.  A place with a working air conditioning unit and a couch that doesn't try to probe him in the ass every time he has a lapse in judgment and sits down in it. To be honest, he could really care less what Merle saw and he tells him so.  Plain to his face.�� "Fuck do I care?"  His brother cares even less that he doesn't care, though.  Just blurts it all out like Daryl didn't even say nothing. 

 "Just saw Julia Fucking Roberts with a baby hanging off her tit.  Right there on the side of the road." 

 Daryl scoffs into his beer.  Looks up and peers into his brother's eyes, his earlier assumptions in doubt.  They're bright and his pupils are normal, but still.  "You high?"

 "That any kind of question to ask your big brother?"

 "Merle!" Daryl barks. 

 2. 

  "Tomorrow isn't a promise, Daryl.  It's a wish.  A dream.  And those?  They don't always come true." 

  3. 

  "Been watching tv with your ball busting daughter.  Kid's 14 going on 40." 

  4. 

  He hesitates again and her fingers curl into her palm.  Press until she can feel the little crescent moons branded on her skin.  She tries to bite her tongue--she really does--but the part of her that came roaring back to painful life seeing him there on her doorstep the first time, so much loss mixed with longing in his blue eyes, it rushes headlong into salvation or Hell.  She doesn't know which.  She can't say she even cares anymore. 

    5. 

  He’s got her panties stripped down to her ankles, her tee shirt shoved up around her neck, and his greedy mouth mapping out each rib beneath her satin skin, two fingers buried knuckle deep when the bedroom door opens without warning, and it’s every parent’s nightmare; not that he

is

a parent, but Carol is, and she does what he figures any rational, self-respecting parent would do in this particular panicked situation:  she shoves his head further down her body and yanks the comforter they’d kicked to the foot of the bed during their

extracurricular

activities over his bare ass all the way up to her chin, calls out her little girl’s name in a voice that’s a little higher pitched than normal but welcoming all the same.  “Sophia.” 

  6.  

    Kid’s eyes get bigger with each swirl of the butter knife through the bowl of chocolate icing and Daryl don’t blame her one bit because it’s the good stuff.  Thick and rich, enough cocoa in it to jumpstart a dead man’s heart, and

damn

.   7. 

  Daryl eats his fill of pasta.  Soaks it all up with a little too much wine because the company’s good but he ain’t used to the talking no more or the carefree laughs.  The shared looks between the two men are too much.  Too happy in the middle of this hell on earth, too intimate, and eventually, well.  It starts to get to him—being the third wheel. 

  Aaron doesn’t even seem surprised when he pushes back from the table and mumbles his goodbyes. 

  He sees himself out.  Stumbles just the slightest bit on the next to last step before he grabs the railing, looks up at the Virginia moon so big and so bright and lets the crisp night air wash over his flushed cheeks while he gathers his thoughts and his equilibrium. 

  8. 

 Really not sure if I posted this one or not.  Anyway, it's an unfinished challenge fic, so. 

  Off your rocker

     “Draw the short end of the stick again, Son?” 

  Hitching the worn strap of his crossbow higher over the round of his shoulder, Daryl merely grunts in response.  It’s neither an affirmation nor a denial, but if the old man is bothered by it, he doesn’t let it show.  It certainly doesn’t shut him up anyway.  Ain’t much of anything can do

that,

he reckons.  Might’ve taken the retired vet a while to warm up to the whole lot of them—warm, weren’t that a nice, fine, foreign concept these days—but now that he has?  He hasn’t looked back.   

  Unperturbed, Hershel steers the one-sided conversation forward in his rambling drawl.  “While I appreciate the continued pleasure of your company, I’m perfectly capable of handling such delicate matters on my own.” 

  Daryl snorts. Ain’t nothing delicate ‘bout these trips just beyond the tree line and they both know it. 

Still

.  Could be worse.  Could be partnered up with Dog if he hadn’t developed a predilection for playing nanny to that little shit Carl in the misguided notion that he was going to keep the boy out of trouble.  You ask him, the kid’s middle name started with a big ass T.  “Ain’t my rule.  Rick’s.  Think I wanna…” 

  “Play babysitter to an old man?” 

  Daryl huffs.  “Now you’re just puttin’ words in my mouth.”  Briefly glancing back, he shakes his head.  “Y’ain’t old.”  Without missing a beat, he mutters a clarification, one corner of his mouth turning up so slightly even

he

wasn’t sure if it was a smile or not.  “You’re ancient.  Bit of a difference.” 

  Far from being offended, Hershel chuckles.  “That so?”

  With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Daryl nods.  “Way I see it, you got experience.” 

  “Experience?”

  “Life experience.  Lots of it.  Them assholes back at camp?  Don’t have much if they have any.  Least not the kind that’s going to help them survive in this world.  You do.”  He might lack in table-taught manners—he’s a Dixon, after all—but he’s got common sense in spades, and he don’t ever say something he don’t mean.  Following in his wake, the old man falls uncharacteristically silent, likely digesting his words.  It ain’t often Daryl doles out words of praise and they both know it. 

  Nearing a fallen log, Hershel slows.  “Here.” 

  Scanning their immediate surroundings for any hint of unwanted company and finding none, Daryl looks up and squints into the pale Winter sun.  With much of their food source in hibernation or holed up in whatever bit of shelter to found, the dead were decaying and sluggish in this dick-shrinking cold. 

Still

.  “Here?” 

  “Here.” 

  “Alright.  Good a place as any.”  Putting his back to the nearest tree and averting his narrowed gaze, he shoulders his crossbow and tries not to cringe at the telltale clink of the old man’s belt.  Ain’t no such thing as privacy anymore and it’s a damn shame because he can think of a hundred and one other things he’d rather be doing right about now.  Like hunting.  Too bad the only squirrel he sees, skittering from tree to spindly tree, is too scrawny to be worth the effort.  Knowing Carol, she’d probably fork it over to the little parasite taking up residence in Lori’s womb anyway.  Thoughts of the woman’s foolish disregard for her own well-being over others make him shake his head to himself.  He wonders would it have been different.  If he had walked out of those woods with her little girl, would she treat herself with as much care as strangers not even worth half her salt?  He’s pulled from that line of thinking by the old man’s nonchalant request. 

  “Mind handing me some of them leaves over there, Son?” 

  Carefully avoiding any eye contact, Daryl doesn’t draw out the task.  That would only make the situation even more embarrassing.  He hands over the leaves and straightens, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he delves beneath the cover of his poncho for a pack of cigarettes he knows isn’t there.  Smokes might not be a necessity for survival, but fuck if he don’t miss them. 

Damn

meddling

woman

, he thinks, peering through the trees at the way they’d come, barely able to make out Beth and the woman in question.  Course, the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.  Old man’s smart enough not to poke a stick at a bear, though.  Least Daryl thinks he is, ‘til he hears what comes out of his mouth next and nearly swallows his own tongue because of it. 

  “Girl’s sweet on you.” 

  He says it like they’re two coworkers enjoying a smoke break.  Not two would-be strangers doing what they’re…doing and hackles raised, Daryl sputters.  Because it’s easier to spit outrage at an unmade accusation than admit a truth that’s too close for comfort.  He might not be well-versed in the ways of women, but like he’d once told Andrea, he’s observant and Carol’s got a soft way ‘bout her anyhow.  Been more than once the look in her pretty blue eyes made him ache for something he ain’t never had.  “The hell.  Ain’t into kids.” 

  “Good to know,” Hershel says conversationally.  “Wasn’t talking about my daughter, Son.  Neither one of them.  But we both know

that

.  Besides.  You walk this earth long enough, anybody younger than you becomes a kid.”    

  Daryl lifts his thumbnail to his mouth and gnaws, piercing the abused skin with blunt teeth.  “Off your rocker, Old Man.”  The quip he gets in return is quick and expected. 

  “Comes with the territory of being ancient, I imagine.” 

  “Man, you got your pasty white ass hangin’ out in the wind and you wanna gossip?”  Flustered as he is, he keeps his voice low, his agitated footfall just as quiet as he whirls around to jab his finger right beneath the old man’s nose.  He hasn’t made it this far being a dumbass.  “You don’t know nothin’.” 

  Taking a moment to rezip his fly and wipe his hands on a rag, Hershel calmly stands to his full height and looks down at him.  He doesn’t bother to hide his smirk when he uses Daryl’s own words against him or the knowing twinkle in his eyes.  “Said it yourself, Son.  I’m old

and

experienced.  Been around the block a time or two.  Might even say I’ve picked up a few things.  I stand by my word.  That girl’s sweet on you.  Judging from your reaction?  The feeling’s mutual.”  Parting shot fired, he walks away. 

  It takes Daryl but a few seconds to match his easy, deliberate stride.  “Naw. 

Naw

.  The hell you think you’re goin’?” 

      9.    

“We really doing this silent treatment shit?” Daryl grumbled.  Carol’d been giving him the cold shoulder for the better part of the evening, and fuck if he knew why exactly.  Sure, he might have gotten them (just a little) lost—playing cross country navigator in his brother’s borrowed truck wasn’t exactly the same as tracking a buck in the Georgia woods.  And wasn’t she, as a Lit-loving nerd, always preaching that the best roads weren’t always the most traveled ones anyway?  No.  He was reasonably sure the hundred-mile detour from their actual destination point wasn’t the cause of her black mood, and that led him back to square one.  “S’not my fault they only had one room.” 

  She didn’t bother answering him.  She just huffed and marched across the room, heaving her overstuffed duffel bag on top of the dingy bed and starting to dig through it like it held the secrets of the fuckin’ universe. 

  He

wished

because he was floundering.  Some last hurrah this was turning out to be.  Stuck in Bumfuck, Nowheresville in this Bates Motel wannabe with a best friend who’d sooner rip his nuts off than utter a civil word.  Tired and working against developing a foul mood of his own, he tossed his own pack to the foot of the mattress and sighed.  “Got a beer in there?” 

  Carol only paused long enough to roll her eyes at him and glare. 

  “Guessing not,” he muttered.  “Shit.”  When her only reaction was to continue to freeze him out, he sighed again, even deeper than the last time, and dropped to the hard, lumpy mattress.  If she thought he was going to be all chivalrous and shit and offer to sleep on the floor, she had another thing coming.  The carpet was filthy, half the stains defying categorization.  Besides.  Weren’t like they hadn’t shared a bed before.  Course, all those times had predated puberty, but still.  “Sorry, alright?”  She softened for about a second before he unwisely tried to choke himself with his own foot in a dick, Dixon move.  “

Jesus

.  What crawled up your ass?”    10.     Carol hadn’t taken much with her when she’d packed up and left home.  Ed hadn’t allowed it.  Hindsight being 20/20 and all, she should have dug her heels in and demanded an annulment right then, right there.  But she hadn’t.  She’d been numb.  Mired in the fog of a broken heart.  She let her new husband drag her clear across the state of Georgia, hundreds of miles from her mama, her friends,

Daryl

, and she hadn’t said a blessed word.  Didn’t utter a word of protest ‘til her baby girl was born and it became clear that she had fallen

head over heels, hopelessly

in love for the second time in her life, and by then it was too late. 

Story

of

her

life

, she thought, recalling Daryl’s frozen, unreadable expression in

Mary’s

, Jessie’s awkward split-lip smile as the children were formally introduced to each other.  Nanny Sarah always

did

tell her she’d be late to her own funeral. 

[ogiuemaniax]

Volume 6 of Genshiken is probably my favorite volume of manga ever. I think I’ve re-read it more than any other, so coming back to it for “Return to Genshiken” is almost like visiting an old friend.

At this point, it feels almost unnecessary to call it a transitional volume because it feels like every volume brings a major shift or two. This time, I’d say there are two especially significant events: the graduation of the old guard, and the first full dive into Ogiue’s head.

What is Return to Genshiken?

Genshiken is an influential manga about otaku, as well as my favorite manga ever and the inspiration for this blog, but it’s been many years since I’ve read the series. I intend to re-read Genshiken with the benefit of hindsight and see how much, if at all, my thoughts on the manga have changed.

Note that, unlike my chapter reviews for the second series, Genshiken Nidaime, I’m going to be looking at this volume by volume, using both English and Japanese versions of Genshiken! I’ll also be spoiling the entirety of Genshiken, both the first series and the sequel, so be warned.

Volume 6 Summary

Ogiue decides to try her hand at drawing a doujinshi for Comic Festival, but only after a series of wacky/traumatic mishaps. From cosplay to drawings of Sasahara and Madarame to getting caught red-handed with a bag full of doujinshi at ComiFes itself, Ogiue’s grudging acknowledgement of her fujoshi side is the very definition of reluctant. What’s more, Kasukabe thinks Ogiue has a twinkle in her eye for Sasahara, and refuses to believe otherwise.

Meanwhile, Keiko tries to get into Shiiou University despite years of neglecting her own education, Madarame has a nervous non-date with Kasukabe, and the classic trio of dudes finally graduate from college. Ohno feels a twinge of sorrow, but that’s eventually wiped away when she becomes the new president of Genshiken, with the hope of bringing about a true Society for the Study of Cosplay.

End of an Era, Dawn of a New Age

Madarame, Tanaka, and Kugayama are all classic images of otaku. Out-of-shape, awkward, and filled with trivia, they’re firmly in the camp of nerds who can never pass as “cool.” All three stick around to varying degrees for the rest of the first series and even in the sequel, but the fact that these “big children” are entering into the adult world is important for the tone of Genshiken. While all have made strides in previous volumes in different areas—girls, artistic progress, life in general—their graduation in hindsight feels like the moment when “more” might just be possible. They, and especially the younger members, are poised to break through the boundaries of the otaku identity, if only a little.

The buildup to graduation is filled with emotion. For example, when Madarame runs into Kasukabe chatting with friends on campus, a combination of his powerful crush on her and his general social awkwardness causes him to snub her. It’s such a painfully relatable scene, especially with how Kasukabe’s friendly “hello” gesture throws Madarame completely off guard. How could Kasukabe actually be that friendly? When did she even get that way? While re-reading Genshiken has helped me to see this change more readily, I recall it feeling almost out-of-nowhere the first time around.

Another moment comes from Ohno, who has a cloud of melancholy hanging overhead prior to the guys’ graduation. The reason is that, because she came back from abroad, she has to do an extra year at the university, and thus will graduate a year after Sasahara, Kasukabe, and Kohsaka. It’s a heartfelt moment where Ohno and Kasukabe grow even closer, albeit with Kasukabe promising to fulfill a cosplay request that she’ll eventually regret. What makes this moment hilarious in hindsight is that, as saddened as Ohno is here, she ends up delaying her graduation multiple times throughout Nidaime because she just doesn’t want to face adult society. Like Kasukabe, Ohno changes quite a bit over the course of Genshiken, sometimes so gradually that it’s notice. That doesn’t apply here, though, as Volume 6 is also when Ohno agrees to become the new Genshiken president so that she can shape it in her own cosplay-loving image. Later in Volume 9, Ohno even makes a comment that her character appears to have changed at some point, referencing her transformation from meek token girl otaku to confident motherly type.

Ogius Maximus

This volume is chock full of premium Ogiue content. It’s a constant barrage of scowls, dreams created and destroyed, misunderstandings, and burgeoning romance. What’s especially telling about Ogiue’s prominence is that we’re privy to her inner thoughts to a degree only a few other prominent characters share, such as Sasahara and Madarame. She has a brief moment in Volume 5, but this time it’s entire extended internal monologues that lay bare the true Ogiue lurking within.

  We have Ogiue going to Comic Festival incognito, i.e. half a chapter devoted to showcasing Ogiue’s mix of anger towards others, anger at herself, and the sense that she just really want friends but is her own worst enemy. As she stomps through Tokyo Big Sight in her winter coat and high school-era glasses, a snarly pout adorning her face, you can see her giving into her basest desires, mirroring Sasahara’s first voyage to ComiFes (though this is certainly not Ogiue’s first rodeo). When Ogiue’s hovering around the rest of the club, the lonely look she gives as they laugh over in the distance is almost heartbreaking. The subsequent silliness of her bumping into Ohno and having her doujinshi spill out of her bag for all the world to see is dramady at its finest. In other words, Genshiken.

The breakdown of Ogiue’s defenses is a recurring theme in this volume, seen not only in her ComiFes disaster but also in her very first cosplay. Kasukabe, having noticed that Ogiue’s a little weak to pressure, uses this opportunity to try and get Ogiue to open up. Ogiue dressed as Renko from Kujibiki Unbalance is probably her most iconic moment. Not only has it been replicated on multiple occasions across various anime adaptations and decorative covers, but it’s the subject of Ogiue’s only full PVC figure (which I own, yes).

Manga

Alter Figure

OVA

OVA Box Art

OVA Box Art 2

Genshiken 2

Genshiken 2 OP

Nidaime

Sasa x Ogi Continues

In Volume 5, there’s a moment that I believe is the subtle beginning of Ogiue’s obsession with Sasahara x Madarame, and by extension the catalyst for her eventually falling for Sasahara. In Volume 6, Kasukabe’s actions nudge it towards greater prominence.

In one of the doujinshi planning scenes, Haraguchi reveals that he’s already made plans for Genshiken’s book (he wants to turn it into a big seller by bringing on a ton of high-profile guest artists). Sasahara keeps trying to politely refuse Haraguchi’s “kindness,” as his tendency as a non-confrontational person. However, as Haraguchi keeps pushing and pushing, eventually Sasahara’s expression grows stern (similar to how he reacts to his own sister). He puts his proverbial foot down, saying, “I will personally call all the guest artists you brought on board (without my consent) and turn them down.”

It’s potentially easy to miss, but immediately afterwards there’s a small panel with an Ogiue closeup, and she has the ever-so-slightest blush on her face. Without later context, it can just seem like she’s surprised or shocked at Sasahara’s change of behavior, but now it’s clear to me that this was the catalyst for her perception of Sasahara as a a “seme” character, and also her eventual attraction to him.

Back when I first read Genshiken, I was actually mildly skeptical towards the idea that Ogiue was interested in Sasahara just because Kasukabe said so. Both on a personal level and as a consumer of fiction, I’d groan at these situations. Just because someone looks at someone else once or twice didn’t mean romance is in the air!

Those situations still get overblown in my opinion, but as I’ve re-read Genshiken, it’s clear to me that the hints were there. It’s not that Ogiue is madly in love with Sasahara from the start, but that she begins to notice his finer qualities, and this grows into something more. This, I believe, is what Kasukabe truly notices, even if she misinterprets Ogiue’s drawing of Sasahara as aggressive top as a more typical from of affection.

Kasukabe really is the “matchmaker” of Genshiken, or maybe she just loves goading potential/existing couples. Whether it’s grilling Tanaka and Ohno, or it’s getting Madarame to quit waffling and pick a girl, her thrill at seeing her nerd friends get somewhere is actually one of Kasukabe’s most charming qualities.

The Ogiue Maniax Moment

The top image in this post is probably favorite Ogiue scene ever. It’s where my original banner came from, and I’ve used it in posts such as “Explaining Decompression in Comics.” As Ogiue thinks about the logistics of a Sasahara x Madarame relationship, her mind wanders down deeper and darker rabbit holes. She tries to pull herself away, but she can’t. In an entire volume where page after page of Ogiue’s piercing eyes is like manna from heaven, this is like the main course.

Keiko Shows Substance

Ogiue and Keiko meet for the first time in this volume, and it’s hilarious to see how antagonistic they were at the time. Keiko softens up to everyone over time, even her older brother, but there’s just a certain pleasure I derive from seeing Keiko eventually call Ogiue “onee-chan.” She’s marrying her brother and Ogiue in her head before everyone else. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Volume 6 is probably almost as big a deal for Keiko fans as it is for Ogiue fans; it’s when Keiko really begins to turn a new leaf. Even if we learn in the next volume that her attempts to get into Shiiou University are fruitless, and that she quits college entirely by Nidaime, she’s genuinely trying to be more than just a dumb, shallow girl. I get the feeling a lot of Keiko lovers wouldn’t be so keen on her if she had never changed, but that’s the magic of Genshiken.

Mebaetame Amateur Figure Hour

Starting this volume of Genshiken, the between-chapters extras get creative. This time around, it’s Tanaka’s blog where he shows off his design and construction of a figure from Kujibiki Unbalance. The most amazing thing about this is that it’s made using real photographs of an actual constructed figure. This then later factors into the end-of-volume special, when Tanaka accidentally drops the figure and breaks it. Someone actually built it for real, and I don’t think we’ll ever know if it was Kio himself, an assistant, or an acquaintance. Did he actually break his own constructed figure for the sake of a gag, or was there a stunt double?

Final Random Thoughts

This is the last we see of Kitagawa, the Club Council vice president. She ends up marrying her senpai. I kind of wish we saw where she was in Nidaime, but she was always a pretty minor character. On a personal note, I knew a guy who really liked Kitagawa, but he passed away a few years ago. Rest in Peace, Cortana.

At graduation, someone is reading the end of Part 1 of the Kujibiki Unbalance manga. The pages shown are meant to be an indication of how far the story has gone, as characters portrayed as enemies earlier in the series are now getting married.

Kujibiki Unbalance in Volume 3

Kujibiki Unbalance in Volume 6

The end-of-volume special also features the crew hanging out post-graduation, and in one instance Sasahara and Madarame are checking the girls out. I like that there’s pretending that they don’t notice how attractive their clubmates are, though obviously they don’t say anything out loud. What sticks out to me here is Sasahara getting a little hot and bothered by Ogiue in a skirt. With Kasukabe, who’s dressed to kill in a short skirt and pantyhose, it feels like he’s seeing her as just “an attractive lady.” But with Ogiue, she’s wearing a pretty subdued outfit and a pretty long skirt. I’d like to think it’s that spice of beginning to actually have feelings for another, which turns even plain clothes into thrilling adventures in fantasy. In Volume 7, Sasahara really lets his imagination run wild, but that’s for next time.

Return to Genshiken: Volume 6 – Eyes as Black as the Abyss Volume 6 of Genshiken is probably my favorite volume of manga ever. I think I've re-read it more than any other, so coming back to it for "Return to Genshiken" is almost like visiting an old friend.

[sexysilverstrider]

morgan can i call u morgan wherever u are pls post this one ao3 too or just exist in front of me so i could hug u n never let go

Hey, it’s the anon from a while ago. You know, the one who talked to you about that Berkut AU? I saw that you went through all the sadness of the post-Berkut battle in the game, so I thought I would submit you a little cousin bonding (with a dash of Berinea) fic based on that AU to cheer you up/distract you from Echoes canon. Although, there’s still that small dose of angst because I love it and I know you do as well. Hope you enjoy! Sorry if it doesn’t seem to flow well, the idea I was going for was parallels, so having a moment from childhood and then having a moment in present day. P.S.: To explain a certain thing I mention in this fic, it’s a headcanon of mine both in this AU and in canon that Alm’s circlet is from his mother and that Mycen is allergic to cats.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow…These belonged to our mothers?”

Young Alm, barely eight years older, and his cousin Berkut, who wasn’t much older, gazed at the objects in their hands with awe. Alm held a dark blue circlet that had a simple silver design in the front. Berkut held a small golden ring that had a beautiful design crafted on it.

“Yes, your mothers both entrusted them to me so that you boys would have something to remember them by,” Mycen explained as the children carefully examined the gifts, “That circlet was your mother’s favorite Alm, the first gift she received from your father when they were courting. And Berkut, that was your mother’s treasured wedding ring.”

“…We can keep these?” Berkut asked softly, eyes never leaving the one and only thing he had left of his parents.

“Well, I should hold onto those for now, I think.”

“But why?” the boys whined simultaneously, pouting at their grandfather.

“You two get into far too much trouble,” Mycen chuckled, “You could easily lose or break them. Don’t worry, when you’re older and more responsible, they will be yours to keep. And I do hope you both grow into people who make these items’ original owners proud.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How long do you plan on staring at your reflection, cousin?”

Alm’s cheeks felt hot as he turned to glare at Berkut, who had caught him staring at the hallway mirror. Berkut’s smug look turned to one of slight surprise as he took a good look at Alm.

“Ah, I see…You’re wearing your mother’s circlet.”

“I’m finally old enough for it to fit,” Alm replied, a hand gently brushing against the cold silver design.

“I understand,” Berkut said, raising his hand to show that he was wearing his mother’s wedding ring, “Glad Grandfather finally decided we’re old enough to have them.”

“I just wish he’d tell us more about our parents,” Alm turned back to the mirror, frowning as he looked at the circlet in the reflection, “I mean, all we know is that my father and your mother were siblings, they died soon after our births, and that our mothers left us these gifts. But I wanna know more about their personalities, their lives.”

“I agree but you know very well how troubled Grnadfather looks whenever we ask about them. To have lost both his children so suddenly must have hurt him deeply, it’s probably too painful for him to talk about it.”

“I know that, but…”

Berkut chuckled as he dragged a protesting Alm away from the mirror.

“One day soon, we’ll learn about our parents, Alm,” he said before adding in a more competitive tone, “Until then, let’s focus on learning how to swordfight without breaking any more pots.”

“Hey! Tobin started it and you know it!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Berkut, you can’t tell Grandpapa!”

Berkut hadn’t even had the chance to welcome Alm home before the younger boy ran inside, arms hiding something wrapped in a blanket. Berkut raised an eyebrow as Alm motioned for him to come closer, moving the blanket just a little to reveal the contents.

“Is that a kitten?”

Indeed, sleeping soundly amidst the warmth of the blanket and Alm’s arms was a small orange kitten, fur covered in leaves and bits of twigs. Berkut’s eyes widened at the sight of the small creature before he hesitatingly stroked her head with his finger.

“Isn’t she cute?” Alm, who usually grumbled at the slightest hint of looking “unmanly”, cooed, “I found her by the meadow. Celica went off to get some milk for her.”

“She’s so tiny,” Berkut murmured, “Wait…Why can’t we tell Grandpapa about this? You know he’s allergic to cats.”

“We’ll hide her in Celica’s room! Grandpapa will never know she’s here,” Alm replied happily. He noted the unconvinced look on his cousin’s face, “C’mon, Berkut, you love cats as much as me and Celica do. And you know with Grandpapa’s allergies we’ll never get to have one until we have our own house!”

“We’re definitely gonna be found out by dinner,” Berkut sighed, “But fine, I guess I can help.”

“I knew I could count on you! Now c’mon, pick a name! Celica has one in mind, and so do I.”

“Um…I…” Berkut stammered, “W-well, she’s orange…So, maybe we can call her Orange?”

Berkut fought a losing battle trying not to blush under Alm’s unimpressed stare.

“Ugh, you and Celica picked such boring names,” Alm complained, “She wanted to name her ‘Emily’.”

“Well, what’s your suggestion then?”

Alm, grinned, as if he’d been waiting for Berkut to ask.

“Purrscilla, of course!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Berkut! Look who I found wandering around the camp!”

Berkut, who had been looking over his horse to make sure he hadn’t been hurt too badly in the earlier battle, looked over his shoulder at Alm’s voice, only to let out a sigh.

“Alm, have you already forgotten what Grandfather said about picking up strays?”

Alm merely grinned at his cousin’s exasperated look, adjusting his grip on the fluffy orange cat that was purring away in his arms.

“I know, I know, but she’s such a sweetheart, she came right up to me!” Alm chuckled, looking down at the cat fondly, “Doesn’t she remind you of Purrscilla?”

The tiny kitten from their childhood had managed to slip under Mycen’s watch for a full three days, before she snuck out of Celica’s room and curled up in Mycen’s lapping, sending the poor man into a sneezing frenzy. Berkut, Alm, and Celica were lectured thoroughly that day, and little Purrscilla was given away to another family in the village.

“I still can’t believe we went with your stupid name back then.”

“Excuse me for wanting to have some fun with names!” Alm countered, before talking to the cat, “He’s such a killjoy.”

Berkut rolled his eyes, patting his horse and bringing him back over to the other horses before approaching Alm. The cat purred louder as Berkut gently scratched her under the chin.

“You better not try to take her with us,” Berkut warned Alm, seeing how attached his cousin was getting.

“I won’t, I’m not a fool,” Alm sighed, “I’ll let Clawrine go after dinner.”

“…Clawrine?” Berkut repeated.

“Well, it was either Clawrine or Pawrissa. And she looks like a Clawrine, doesn’t she?”

“Alm, I swear…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alm, you won’t believe this!”

Alm, who had been busy trying to feed the family sheep, and getting his clothes gnawed at for all his efforts, looked over where Tobin had yelled. He smiled as he saw Gray and Tobin dragging Berkut towards him, Kliff and Faye following close behind. Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear what this was about…

“Berry here got his very first confession!” Gray laughed once the group reached Alm.

“Confession?” Alm repeated, surprised and amused as a red-faced Berkut refused to look at him, “As in a love confession?”

“It was that cute girl who works in the tavern,” Tobin explained despite the death glare Berkut was giving him, “You should’ve seen it Alm, it was like something out of one of my sisters’ fairytales!”

“You could practically see the hearts in her eyes while she confessed,” Faye giggled, “It was rather adorable!”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Berkut muttered, “Besides, I turned her down.”

“And made her cry,” Kliff added.

“You made her cry?” Alm asked disappointedly.

“Not on purpose!” Berkut insisted, “I just told her I wasn’t interested and that it’d be in her best interest to find another, then she ran off crying.”

“Yeah, well, I’d stay away from the public eye for a while, Berry,” Gray snickered, “Her father’s gonna kick your butt when he hears you made his little girl cry.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!”

Alm, seeing Berkut’s face growing increasingly red from a mixture of embarrassment and anger, decided to come to his cousin’s rescue.

“Like what happened between you and the older sister of that girl you turned down last month, Gray?”

The group went dead silent at Alm’s words, only for everyone to turn to look at Gray, who was frozen in place.

“Wait a second,” Kliff began, fighting a smile, “That broken nose you had last month…Don’t tell me…”

“Ohh, do tell us more, Alm,” Berkut said teasingly, as the others tried and failed to fight off laughs.

“Alm, you’re dead to me,” Gray grumbled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rinea was truly a vision, with her long hair as blue as the sky and those warm, gentle eyes. Her sincere kindness, her willingness to put her life on the line to heal, to try and save her family from destitution, the way she smiled and laughed, the way she got him to open up to her.

Berkut had accepted it a while ago…He was in love.

“Rinea’s nice, isn’t she?”

Berkut startled for a moment. He had been so focused on watching Rinea, who was in the middle of a discussion of healing methods with Silque and Faye, that he hadn’t noticed his cousin approach him.

“Ah, sorry, Alm, I was distracted,” Berkut said, “What was that about Rinea?”

“I was saying that she’s really nice,” Alm said, “Kind, dependable, shy but she tries hard. And she’s amazing in battle. Did you see her take down that Terror that was about to get me back at the shrine? Incredible!”

Alm’s eyes twinkled in admiration as he looked over at Rinea. Berkut couldn’t help but feel pride coursing through him, even though Rinea was the one being praised. But, intermingled with that pride, was worry.

It was just admiration in Alm’s eyes, right? Alm’s affections laid toward Celica, Berkut was certain of that. Just because Rinea was so easy to love, so incredible and wonderful, that didn’t mean Alm felt anything for her other than respect. And even if he did, it couldn’t match Berkut’s own feelings. It could never match the depth of what Berkut felt. Alm could never match Berkut, he never could when they were children, it should be the same now. So why? Why was he falling behind?!

“Berkut?”

Alm’s voice was the trigger that brought Berkut back, making him remember where he was. He saw the troubled expression on Alm’s face.

“You did it again,” Alm said worriedly, searching Berkut’s face, “For the past few weeks, there are these moments where you become dead to the world…What’s wrong?”

What was wrong? It’s true, he kept having moments where his vision would narrow, where his mind would go all over the face, bringing up thoughts he never knew he had, feelings he never knew he could experience so strongly. It started with his first encounter with one of those Duma Faithful members…During the last encounter, he confronted the bastard, demanding to know what spell had been cast on him that put such thoughts in his head. And what had that person replied?

“Nothing has been planted in your mind…Those thoughts were always there, buried deep in your soul…”

“It’s nothing,” Berkut told Alm, although he knew very well that wasn’t true and Alm certainly didn’t look convinced, “I’m alright, Alm.”

“…You don’t talk to me anymore, Berkut…not like before,” Alm muttered, “Are you really alright? Or is it something you don’t want to tell me?”

“…It’s nothing that concerns you, cousin,” Berkut was beginning to feel irritated at Alm’s prying.

Alm looked as though he wanted to argue further, but thought better of it. The pair stood in silence as the cold but strangely familiar Rigelian air played with their hair.

“I know I’m busy with the Deliverance,” Alm said after a while, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk like we always did before…You can rely on me, Berkut.”

“Because we’re family,” Berkut responded, although the affection in those words seemed dulled, “You can rely on me as well. Such as relying on my ability to know if something is wrong with me or not.”

“I rely more on your damn stubbornness,” Alm snapped back, “Ugh, sorry, I don’t wanna fight. Not when this is the first chance we had to properly talk in a while.”

“I know…But it’s getting late, we can talk another time.”

Berkut took one last glance at Rinea before nodding to Alm and walking off.

“Berkut.”

He paused, although he didn’t turn back to look at his cousin.

“Rinea worries about you too…If you won’t ease my worries, at least ease hers…”

He heard Alm walk off, but he still didn’t turn around. He was alright. He was certain of that. These thoughts that plagued him, they were nothing he couldn’t handle. He was strong after all. He would get through this on his own.

And when he did, he would face Alm and Rinea properly…

[shinewithalltheuntold]

Watershed, Part 2 of 6

ven1Summary: In which John is in charge of building the second Sanctuary and is a little bored keeping watch in the middle of nowhere.  Until a town miraculously lands on his ceiling.

For @liberalmasochist, because she’s my Sanctuary buddy. With thanks to @holdouttrout @ussjellyfish for the encouragement.

ii.

John Druitt was bored.

It turned out that reliving an entire century involved doing nothing for long periods of time. A tedious proposition under the best of circumstances, but when one was forced to hide out or risk either running into one’s past self or irrevocably damaging history, it was absolutely, mind-numbingly boring.

Although, thinking back to his first couple of decades in the past, there were worse things than boring. Because the EM dampening field had dissipated at the very last second, when he teleported he had landed nearly a year after Helen.  It had taken close to three months to discover the truth of what had happened to Adam Worth, and in the end he had been forced to go to James for answers.

Regaining Helen’s trust, allowing her to run literally hundreds of tests to ensure that he had left the energy creature behind in 2011, and then a hundred more to develop a serum that would protect him from being re-infested….looking back on it now was a blur of needles and chemical concoctions setting fire to his blood. Of spewing vitriol in screaming matches that lasted hours and resentful silences that lasted weeks.  And then, finally, of quiet acknowledgments and honest apologies and the painful but freeing realization that they could never go back to what they were.

Instead, they moved forward together as something new.  Something more than friends and less than lovers, at once simpler and more profound than what they had in the past.  Than anything he had ever known.  He gave her companionship, a shoulder to lean on (or more likely to beat in frustration) when the inaction of watching the horrors of The Wars unfold whilst being helpless to stop it became too much to bear.  She gave him purpose, a place in her grand and glorious vision of the future where their kind could be protected and safe from the meddling of governments and political agendas.

He became her right hand; James her left.  And together, with Hollow Earth technology and the unwitting help of the greatest minds of the century, they had built this marvel.  A place where abnormals would be truly safe from the evils of organizations like The Cabal and SCIU.  A place where they could be free.  An underground, self-sustaining Sanctuary.

Two of them, actually.

This one was not quite as grand as the one Helen was still completing under Old City.  But that was to be expected.  The Old City Sanctuary was Helen’s baby, whether above ground or below.  This one, though, this one was his.  Not as sleek and futuristic; he still had too much of the Victorian gentleman in him for that.  This was much more like London, a tribute to a place and time long gone but never forgotten. He liked to think it would have been the Sanctuary of The Five, a place where they could have experimented and learned and grown together.  Instead it was the Sanctuary of the three.  And in a few short decades, of the two.

He and Helen had talked about it, conspired to find ways to circumvent the loss of James. And of Ashley. Huddled in the caverns of Hollow Earth as they hid with their pilfered stash of knowledge and technology, covered in the dirt of excavation, they had posited a hundred scenarios to cheat death. None of them would work, and when James had realized what they were doing, he made them swear on everything they held dear that they would stop trying.  Death was inevitable, he’d said.

Easy to say when you weren’t the one left behind, Helen had countered.

Not so easy when you know that you will die with words unsaid, wishes unfulfilled.  And he’d been looking straight at John, and he’d been right, and that was that. John hadn’t seen him since, and doubted he ever would.  Some wounds didn’t heal.

“Breathe, child.” The old woman’s voice came from behind him, startling him out of his morbid musings. He turned to her with a smile as she made her way to him, more slowly now than those few decades ago when they first met.  She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder when she reached him and he allowed it.  She was one of the few people who knew what he was and still cared for him; he could not turn that away.  Still…

“You’re getting warmer.” The heat from her hand was already starting to make him uncomfortable but he made no move to escape it.  He needed the comfort of that moment as much as she.  And she had never once touched him long enough to burn him.

“Yes,” she said, and then she did remove her hand from him.  She looked at it; he wondered if she could see the flames beneath her skin. “The fire will take me soon.”

“I will miss this face.” It was old, weathered from the elements and lined with years well-lived.  But her white hair was still full and impossibly long, her eyes the same deep warm brown as her skin and so full of life and love.  This face was all the more beautiful for all that it had seen and done, and he had grown accustomed to it.  He took great comfort in it.

“As will I,” she agreed solemnly.  But then a sly smile spread across her face and that mischievious twinkle brightened her eyes.  She winked at him. “But if you’re lucky, you’ll live long enough to see it again.”

He smiled back.  “One can only hope.  What brings you here, Grandmother?”

That wasn’t her name, of course.  But her name was sacred to her and she never spoke it aloud.  So when the village children started calling her grandmother centuries ago, she decided it was a good name and had made it hers ever since.“Something has happened on the surface.  Or rather, someplace has happened.”

Confused but intrigued, John followed her to the main control room, to the large screen that displayed the feed from the camera they had monitoring the entrance to the Sanctuary. What he saw only magnified his confusion.  Moving in closer, he tried to make sense of the impossibility his eyes were showing him.

“How is this possible?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was calm but had an edge of curiosity and perhaps even a slight bit of uneasiness.  For a woman who wouldn’t tell him her age but had once hinted that she’d met Alexander the Great to be surprised by much of anything had his adrenaline up and going. Which she clearly saw because her “You’re going to investigate?” was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes.” He had already pulled on his jacket and was heading out the door when she called after him.

“She won’t be happy.” He turned back and offered her a small smile.

“She’s rarely happy with me, Grandmother.” It was rude to turn his back on her, but he was too anxious to get outside and investigate so he kept talking as he backed out of the room. “Call her please? She’ll want to see this.”

“She will.  She’ll also want to scold you in person.”

“That she will.” But a scolding would be well worth the chance to investigate this impossibility that had landed on their doorstep.  Well, on their roof.

--

“It’s a city.”

John watched as Helen stepped towards the screen, tracing her fingers over the image of the clock tower in the middle of the frame.  The broken clock tower – John had watched it for close to an hour during his jaunt to the surface and it hadn’t moved in the slightest.

“Technically, I don’t believe it’s large enough to qualify as a city,” he said. “Perhaps a town.”

He didn’t need to see her face to know she had just rolled her eyes at him. “A town that appeared out of nowhere.”

“Apparently.”

“That’s not possible.”

“And yet…” he gestured towards the screen.  She spun around to face him, shoulders tense and eyes hard.

“Are you sure you didn’t notice anything suspicious?”

“Suspicious as in what? People moving in?  Razing the forest, erecting houses and businesses, moving furniture and equipment and God knows what else?” His voice was rising steadily, along with his agitation.  He knew she was frustrated and confused, but he wouldn’t tolerate even the hint that he had not been doing his job properly. “Helen, two days ago the only people within forty miles were a man and his son on a camping trip.  Yesterday, there was a sizable, fully intact town above us.”

“How?”

There was frustration and bewilderment in her voice but no blame this time, and it made him wish he had a better answer for her than the truth.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Helen sighed and turned back to the monitor, to that broken clock.  “How long were you on the surface?”

“No more than five hours. I stayed on the outskirts of the town for the most part, except to plant the monitor,” he nodded towards the screen. It was the only view they had, and he’d hesitated to set up even that monitor.  He had no idea what kind of capabilities the inhabitants of this strange little town had and hadn’t wanted to alert them to his presence. By the same token, they needed some kind of eyes into the town so he’d decided to take the risk.

“And before you lecture me,” he added. “I know it was dangerous.  Possibly even foolhardy, but I could not stand by idly and not act.  An entire town springing up overnight is not just a mystery, Helen. It’s a potential danger to what we’ve built here.”

“I agree.” He started a bit at that.  He knew Helen would come round to his point of view sooner or later, but he’d quite frankly been expecting later.  Two centuries, and she still managed to surprise him.   “What did you find?”

“Very little unfortunately.” It was hard to gather information when you are trying to remain completely unseen in an unknown, unfamiliar environment.  “The inhabitants appear human; I saw no hint of anything abnormal.  Of course, five hours is not enough time for anything-“

“Absolutely not,” she cut him off before he could finish that thought.  “You are not going back up there. Not until we have more information.”

“A bit difficult to gather more information without going back up there, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but difficult is not the same as impossible.  We have a few sensors, and this monitor.  We’ll gather as much information as we can, try to develop at least a rudimentary plan of action before I’ll even entertain the notion of returning to the surface.”

He didn’t like it. She was right, of course, but he really didn’t like it. And she knew he didn’t.  Knew him well enough to see that he was biting his tongue against all the pitfalls and potential dangers waiting could cause.  There was no use saying things she already knew.

“John,” she reached out and grasped his hands in hers, “I know. But this is the best plan we’ve got.”

He nodded, but didn’t relax at until she added, “whatever this is, whatever they are, we won’t let them destroy what we’ve worked so hard to build.  We will figure this out. Together.”

He gave her a small smile and gave her hands a little squeeze.

“Together.”

--

“She’s going to kill him.”

John watched as the woman turned from the “Welcome to Storybrooke” sign to face the man being held down by this town’s version of law enforcement.  

The change was virtually instantaneous.  One moment, she was staring at the little boy as he fled, tears in her eyes. But by the time she had turned to face the boy’s father, her face was a blank mask apart from the rage burning in her eyes.

“We can’t stop her, John,” Helen said quietly. She had seen the same thing John had, and come to the same conclusion. “You know we can’t. Whatever this place is, whoever she is….we can’t interfere.”

“I am aware.” He was. Helen’s reasoning was sound.  They had no idea what they were dealing with; a city surrounded by some as yet unidentified energy field that seemed to shield it from the sight of the outside world, a large group of people who appeared oblivious to the fact that they had just appeared out of thin air – by all rights they shouldn’t be on the surface at all yet.  They certainly couldn’t be seen.  Especially by the woman they had come to find out was the mayor of this little town.  Mayor Mills, the one with the Dalmatian had called her.  The only with any awareness of just how bizarre and out-of-place the town and all its inhabitants were.

They’d spent days obsessively watching the camera feeds and gathering what little data their sensors could provide.  Helen hadn’t liked it, but she’d finally agreed that they weren’t going to get the information they needed unless they placed monitoring equipment in some strategic places.  So they’d finally come to the surface in the early hours of the morning to install what they needed – as little as possible but as much as they could get away with. They’d just finished installing the last sensor near the welcome sign when the father and son campers had come tearing down the road, the squad car quickly overtaking them.

They’d headed for cover, darting behind a group of trees that kept them hidden but allowed them to watch the unfolding drama.  Helpless to do anything but watch.

“John, we need to go. Now.”

They didn’t really. They were safely out of sight of Mayor Mills and her lackey.  But they both knew what was coming next, and he didn’t imagine Helen had any desire to watch the inevitable knowing they were powerless to prevent it.  John felt a strange obligation to stay, to bear witness to the man’s last moments.  He imagined Grandmother would say that was his way of taking on guilt that wasn’t his to take.  And because Grandmother was usually right, he nodded softly and stood.  He heard Helen start to slip back into the forest and moved to follow her, when he heard the sound of the mayor’s heels on the pavement. He looked back one last time.

The child was going to be fatherless soon.  He saw it in her eyes.  The madness. She would not tolerate being thwarted, being denied.  She reminded him of some of the more despotic rulers he’d met over the centuries.  

She reminded him of himself, long ago.

But there was something else.  She…cared, about the child.  She was clearly not unmoved by his suffering.  And it made him wonder if her madness was of her own making, or thrust upon her unwillingly.  Perhaps, like he himself, it was a measure of both.

He didn’t know.  But he was going to watch.  He was going to learn.  And if the time and circumstances presented themselves, he was going to take action.

Whether that action would be to save her or end her, well, that was the question, now wasn’t it?

[sportsanimehell-scenarios]

[3] Still Waters [Bokuto]

Genre: Soulmate AU!; Bokuto/Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex, eventual nsfw.

Notes: New year, same me tbh. :’) Now that this chapter is done, I’ll be working on a few requests before I move on to the next part. Thanks for being patient with me.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

“Game is running late. Go home without me.”

The screen darkened as you shoved it back into your uniform pocket. You winced as the book cart made an ungodly creaking sound when you nudged it further down the aisle. While some of your friends liked to run around a volleyball court after school, you preferred the quiet solitude of the library. Aisles and aisles of books, each categorized and alphabetized, made you feel at peace. Sometimes the work was mundane but it helped get your mind off the hum and drum of your daily life.

You waved at the librarian as you wheeled past her desk and she smiled, giving you a nod. “Thanks for your help today, ___-kun. I don’t know how we’d manage without you,” she smiled, pushing up the bridge of her antique wire frames.

“Same time tomorrow?” you nodded, grabbing your bag from behind the counter.

“Looking forward to it already, dear.”

Even though classes were out for the day, students were still running about campus. From the sound of an open window, you heard a metal ping followed by erupting cheers. It sounded like the volleyball club wasn't the only sport that had a game scheduled. Today seemed like just any other day and yet you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched.

The words on the page of the book you were reading seemed to muddle together, making it difficult to concentrate. However it was easy to notice the way people glanced at you as you walked by. Some even turned to whisper to a friend. You tried not to listen, tried to block it out and stride proudly but not before casually yet cautiously brushing your hands down your uniform. Was there something on your face? Did you step in something gross?

Your mind was about to put the last possibility to rest when you finally came to the school gates.

He stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of pinkies with his exuberant hairstyle and towering height. You recognized the volleyball uniform. You even recognized him. He was the captain of the Fukurodani volleyball club, yet his name escaped you. He was one of the many boys at the summer training camp you volunteered at. And of course, if he was here, then his equally tall partner in crime, Kuroo Tetsurou couldn’t be too far behind. No doubt hiding in a safe spot so he could watch this train wreck unfold.

Why was he waiting at the school gates? Better yet, why was he staring right at you? His golden eyes locked onto your approaching form, brightening like two twinkling stars.

“___-chan!” he called out, waving frantically with one hand while the other remained suspicious tucked behind his back.

“Y-yeah, that's me,” you confirmed and he laughed as if to convey, ‘Well of course it's you, silly.’

The sound of something rustling behind him piqued your attention. But before you could even inquire, a bundle of daisies were shoved into your face. “I think you’re really cute! Like...the cutest! Will you go out with me?”

“Wait...what?”

You jumped when Bokuto made a frustrated exclamation, tipping his head back in disappointment. “Augh! I thought that was a really good confession! Did you really not hear it?”

“No, I heard it. I’m just having a hard time believing it.”

But he knew that tone, the way your eyebrows furrowed in contemplation and doubt. Suddenly the bouquet in his hands weighed on his heart like a ball and chain, dragging him through the mud.

Your mind was whirling at the miles to minutes rate, wondering how you came to be standing here. You had barely said more than a few words to Bokuto at the training camp, apologizing when you both reached for a paper plate at the same time during the celebratory barbecue. He thought he felt a connection when he met your eyes, but it turned out he was the only one.

“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” you smiled apologetically. “I’m flattered but...I don’t even know you.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t even know me,” you added, staring up at him with purpose.

He hated the way you were looking at him. Like you were holding back. Like you had so much more to say, but you were trying to protect him. He may not have known much about you, but he could say the walls you were erecting in front of him spoke volumes. In fact, there was not much else to say. Bokuto stood there like a statue, unsure of where to go or what to do from here.

“Are those for me?” you said, nodding your head at the daisies, who looked like they were being suffocated by his grip.

“Yeah, you can still have them if you want,” he offered, holding them out to you again.

“I’ll take good care of them, I promise,” you smiled, lifting them up to your nose. Your fingers brushed against the petals as you removed one from the bundle and offered it to him.

“Bokuto-san, right?” He nodded at your clarification. God how stupid could he be? You barely knew his name and here he was, asking you out on a date.

“Bokuto-san, you seem really sweet but I can’t date someone I don’t know. But if you want,” he perked up at your words. “We can start off by being friends?”

“Yeah, sure. Friends.”

[---]

If you and Bokuto thought you could escape to the dance floor and be exempt from drinking, the two of you had another thing coming. It didn’t take very long for Kuroo to catch on and drag you both back to the bar. The sky was dark and the stars had come out to play too, perfectly accented by the hanging paper lanterns that decorated the outdoor patio.

Maybe it was the two margaritas and one pina colada you had earlier, but you could have sworn that Bokuto was almost glowing. He had a bright aura surrounding him that was so warm and inviting that any reluctance you had about dancing and possibly making a fool of yourself promptly dissolved. His energy was infectious and you found yourself inching closer and closer to him, like reaching your hand out towards an open flame. You knew the risk of getting burned, yet you ignored it for the promise of warmth and heat.

There was a shared look of recognition when a familiar song blared from the speakers. The two of you cheered and Bokuto erupted into a fit of bubbly flails and cheesy dance moves. He just couldn’t help himself. The song brought back so many memories of college and study sessions in the library where he turned up Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ for an impromptu dance break.

Kuroo rolled his eyes when Bokuto began mouthing the words, while keeping his eyes locked on yours. Bokuto’s heart squeezed in his chest upon seeing you double over in laughter. You were swaying casually along with the music, but Bokuto was all seductive hips and enticing rolls. Where did he learn how to move like that? Better yet, who taught him how to move like that? The thought of Bokuto dancing with someone else, laughing, and having fun made an ugly feeling arise in your heart. Was it jealousy?

It felt almost wrong, the way you were staring at him. Your eyes trailed up his legs, pausing for a shameful half minute at his hips and crotch before moving up to his abs and then jumping up to his face. His eyes were closed and he knew he was simply feeling the music, letting it wash over him in waves. He was dancing to forget, even if it was just for a while. He could forget about all about Yukino, a fellow teacher and one of many who had opened his heart but left it bleeding out in the cold.

“You guys are looking a little too crazy out there! Why don’t we slow things down for a bit, yeah?” the singer announced as the band relaxed into a mellower song.

Immediately, dancers began to pair off or retreat to the sanctity of the bar to wait it out. You glanced up at Bokuto who looked thoroughly confused. “Is there no more dancing for the night?”

“No, Kou, they're just playing a slow song right now,” you translated for him.

“O-oh! My bad. Did you want to go back?”

“No, do you?” you asked, taking his hand into yours. You settled his hands on your waist and then reached up for his shoulders.

“No. I don’t.”

He wondered if you felt it too, the way his heart squeezed in chest when you held his hand. Bokuto couldn’t remember the last time he had ever slow danced with someone before. Maybe it was at his cousin's wedding, when he hid his self-pity under laughs and let his equally exuberant aunt drag his single ass out onto the dance floor. But this was different. Everything was different.

You were so small and so soft. You hadn't changed a bit in that regard. He felt a little lame for letting you take the lead, but it was probably for the best since you seemed to know what you were doing. With your help, you and Bokuto swayed back and forth in his arms along with the music. “Koutarou?”

“Hm?” he blinked, snapping out of his temporary daze.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Feeling better? About what? Did I do something?”

But the concerned look on your face gave him the slightest hint that you weren’t talking about him getting a faceful of ocean or frying out in the sun. “Oh...that,” he trailed off, yet his hold on your waist tensed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! I promise.”

Bokuto knew better. He knew better than to try to lie to you. Maybe he was an open book but where most people would have just walked by without a second glance, you sat down and took the time to read him. And oh, you read him from cover to cover.

“Kou, you know you can tell me anything, right?” you asked, genuine concern glowing in your eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered quietly.

He didn’t feel like telling you anything. Not now. Not when he wanted to savor every little detail about this moment. He was taller and bigger than you but he wanted nothing more than to lay his head on your shoulder, and wrap his arm around your middle, breathing in the smell of home. Maybe it was from the long day of sunshine and volleyball or maybe it was from his emotions translating into physical weight. He could feel his head beginning to droop, his face nearing yours.

But you stopped him. A soft weight on his chest halted him dead in his tracks. Your head was mere inches away from his heart. Bokuto was sure you could hear the way it hammered in his chest and yet, you were silent. No words needed to be said. You just danced with him, a content yet tired smile on your lips.

Sometimes it hurt. It hurt to look at you, to be near you. The pain came and went in intervals. Whenever he thought he had found someone else and was ready to move on, you came barreling back into his heart. All it would take was one thoughtful text to check if he got home ok after drinks or a warm hug when he was feeling less than himself for the lingering feelings to come back, full circle. He felt so stuck in the past, yet he knew it was more than just a silly high school crush.

“____?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks…”

“For what?”

“For being here. For making sure I don't do anything stupid.”

For being patient, kind, and loyal. For reminding him of how much he missed you, even though he saw you so regularly. He missed you.

“You don't have to thank me. I know you would have done the same for me in a heartbeat.”

Which was why you never had the heart to tell him whenever you experienced rejection, loss, or hurt. You knew he would drop everything to be by your side. Not because he felt obligated to but because he genuinely cared for you.

As the song began to fade, you lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him. Your soft warm eyes stared up into his still tender golden ones, but it was a look that he had never seen from you before.

“Koutarou, can I kiss you?” you asked, your voice barely audible above the murmur of the crowd around you.

But he knew from the way your lips moved. It was an easily discernible pattern for Bokuto, a sequence he had seen countless times in his dreams. His mind was struggling to form words, nod his head, or even give you some form of response. He would give anything to know what was going on in that beautiful brain of yours, especially when you held his shoulders a little tighter and leaned close, a dash of pink on your cheeks. He closed his eyes, welcoming you with open arms.

Your lips were so soft if not a little chapped from the heat. You tasted like bitter limes, salt, and a false sense of summer. There was a sharp gasp from your throat when he tugged you closer, desperate for body to body contact. Your hands flew into his hair, playing with the slightly coarse grey and silver strands. Bokuto felt the rest of the world melt away as you pulled apart, your lips still millimeters from yours. Your combined shuddered breaths mingled and warmed the space between you.

One kiss. That was all it took for you to throw all caution and future consequence into the wind.

“That was...wow.” Oh, there it was. His voice had come back after abandoning him.

You smiled up at him, cupping his cheek and rubbing the apples with your thumb. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, savoring every bit of affection yet hungry for more.

“This is so selfish…” you admitted, your hand slowly slipping from his face but he stopped you by placing his hand over yours.  

“What’s selfish?” he asked, fingers closing around yours.

“I want you all to myself. I want to be alone with you again.”

You noted the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed heavily. “You have me,___. I'm all yours,” he smiled, giving your hand a warm squeeze.

Given the minimal drinks he has in his system, you grew a little concerned when Bokuto stumbles a little on his way back to the hotel room but it seemed more like giddy excitement than drunken stupor. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, your hands joined together for the journey.

Neither of you had any idea what was about to unfold in the next few hours and how it would alter your destinies forever. His hand was stuttering when he attempted to unlock the door, but he could almost feel your intent, your desire to seek refuge inside that safe and solitary space in his arms. And there you are in an instant, as soon as the door latches open.

There's a desperation in your kiss that wasn't there in the first one. He has you in his arms, the two of you standing frozen in the entryway of the room. Your lips are pressed harder against his, moving together and trying to find that perfect rhythm. Everything fell into place so easily, so perfectly, he wondered if there was some part of you that still carried reservations. Bokuto pulled away from your lips, his own trembling for a moment as he gathered himself.

“I’d like to make love to you tonight,” he whispered against your lips, his hand stroking the side of your face. “Is that ok?”

Your words from that fateful day at the school gates were always ringing in his ears. You said you wanted to get to know each other first, give friendship a try. And you had, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything. But he didn’t know if he could keep that promise anymore, and he didn’t know what would happen if he took this next leap of faith. But he knew he could never live with himself if he never found out.

You nod, smiling softly as your toes curl in anticipation. “It’s more than ok, Koutarou.”