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johnnys-breastmilk · 6 months

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angelift | goalie!renato lyra x reader

a/n — inspired by the deadly games collection! soccer!au where the survivors all play soccer in their own teams

summary — I'd write one but nothing can top those stellar item descriptions in DBD... right? Anyways, goalie rivals settle their feuds in the locker room.

warnings — horribly translated Brazilian Portuguese, face fucking, mischaracterizing a character who doesn't speak/has no personality besides the fact that his whimpering sounds nice <3, white woman jumpscare (meg)

words — 3.4k

~~~

“How does he do it?”

Your eyes scour across the large field to the Brazilian swinging his arms over his chest, raising the other arm in a perpendicular fashion and pressing it to the elbow of his polar arm while keeping it stiff. It’s a specific motion that he does as he sauntered to his other teammates.

Meg turned to look at you as you stretched, taking the same stance as him. Warm-ups, a much-needed thing when exposed to the brisk air.

“Do what?” She asked.

“Look so… confident. You know, they barely qualified to go against us.” What you said may have been a lie, but you wished for it to be true. Knowing their team was statistically worse than yours would have made their popularity around the world feel less intimidating.

Her brows furrowed like they were trying to dive into the turf she stood on. “You made that up. That’s something everyone knows.”

“It’s easy to see it.” You told her. “The team is more focused on their image rather than their skill. My money’s on the fact that most of them are here for the fame.”

Renato had to be showing off since you got to the stadium, whether it was to you or the eager fans arriving early, you couldn’t tell. Not every position was beneficial for stretching out his best assets, but maybe he cared too much about looking his best in the game.

While the other team likely talked shit about your worst mistakes behind your back, you found comfort in talking about their motivations. They could relish in every slip-up, fumble, and game-costing play that you made, but it made all of that sting a little less when you imagined them as not taking the game seriously. Hell, Renato made that pretty easy with his presence in the marketing world. He wasn’t just some player, he was a brand to sell stadium seats.

The countless interviews online were all about him. Renato, the “fire keeper” as everyone called him. It was only after one of his gloves caught a ball that had some sort of tactile material that, when gliding across the material of his glove at a rapid speed, could cause smoke and burn marks. By the end of that match, it looked like he had held fire in his hand and walked away from the game with a reputation.

Then you saw his stupid face in a commercial for a cream that he used to help with muscle pain in his thighs, now being endorsed by the company that made it. Damn you, Deep Heat. Though, the one shot of his thigh that they used for demonstration stuck out in your head—it was practically burned into your TV screen! Crisp, white illuminated his toned leg as he propped it up on a futuristic cube that was equally as shining as the backdrop. All of the lathering, his hands slowly gliding over his thigh to show how fast the cream disappeared and worked to alleviate pain. Closing in on such an intimate part of himself—one that was usually hidden by his shorts, a cross between blue and purple over his tanned legs—was for all of the public to see.

Being a goalie yourself, the algorithm online had basically fed you every iteration of that advert to the point that you could recite them by heart in the same, stupid voice he used. His face was on all the boxes, and you had to reluctantly buy some after getting a cramp after a match. Your team had a manager, and one overheard conversation sent your dislike of the player across the arena into a full-out feeling of disdain. Supposedly, you would have gotten that endorsement if it weren’t for one game where you failed to catch one too many balls, and they went to Renato shortly after.

…And, damn it, he had already won the rivalry. You were at a loss for anything else to say about him.

You would have never called him your “rival,” because that would imply that Renato possessed a skill set high enough to match yours, and the feeling that he could outplay you today was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. That was the internet’s idea. On some screen far, far away, someone had noticed the small glare you gave him a while back at a fundraiser for charity. This one glance let thousands of people on the internet concoct this fantasy of, at the least, being friends, and at its worst, being lovers. Every detail of your social presence—from an intentionally “equivocating” Instagram caption to the outright mention of his name—was enough for fans of both teams to come together in a new type of supporter.

Maybe what they did, and what he did, worked to some extent. Just the sight of him warming up for this match brought on a spur of emotion that could only be described as a resonating bridle. Something that pushed the edge of an immovable barrier. Where the wall began as the public eye and ended in insecurity didn’t seem discernible. Sometimes, you fantasized about meeting Renato while taking a tour of Brazil. Someplace quiet in the moors, where he’s all alone, kicking a ball around, waiting for anyone else to join him. The dream of which sat on his shoulders as he fed fuel to the fire, he had to be the one making any accusation about the two of you being any sort of ‘thing.’

But all he managed to do was run laps around your mind. In front of you, he was doing the complete opposite. His weight pressed down on the faux grass. But he was not facing you, no. He isn’t looking in your direction with a smirk as he reaches the tips of his digits to the toe of his cleat. He’s facing away, a sign of weakness. He’s leaning forward, stretching his back and, from what you can make out from your shared distance, running his hands over his legs until he reaches his ankles. The elastic band of his shorts dipped as they could only cover so much, and the purple ends of his jersey rode up. Too far away to see the details, you turned away and expected it to be that way for the rest of the night.

That was, until, the final handshake. The game came to a close at fourteen to twelve. Scattered players blocked your view of him as you paced back and forth in your little salt circle—or a sharply shaped rectangle with repelling edges—on the field for the entire match. There was a slow building of dread as you shook hand after hand, being on the very end of the lineup as your team shuffled to the left and the other team did the same, but in the opposite direction. Renato was the last as well, meaning that you two ended the ritualistic commemoration. A way to celebrate your loss, and a way for Brazil to continue to be home to another asshole in the world.

Each bare hand meeting your own built-up friction, but it elicits nothing as a base is needed to react with other bases. You had your reasons for disliking Renato, but there was never a specific moment where you could say it to him. There was no ignition beyond your want to do it. But, as you looked into his eyes once he stepped into view, the choice to do it grew stronger. You slotted your hand into his without looking, grasping it firmly. The sudden realization that he still had his gloves on and you were shaking the hand with the yellow dorsal side of his glove. The white part enveloped your hand and he shook it with a smirk on his face.

“Good job out there. Anyone can miss two catches.”

“Not you, though, right?” Being the last in line meant that there was no rush to break away from the man touching your hand. The only thing running through your mind was the Deep Heat on it, numbing his hand and yours.

“Not at all,” he said.

“I guess you’d know how to catch balls, though.” Thanks, internet.

He pulled you closer, “You know, a rumor might arise tonight about how you’re missing two balls.”

The teams were dismissed before you could reply. Just a second longer and this would’ve been more flammable evidence to turn to ashes in the dirt. But Renato pulled his hand away and strode across the field. You did the same since the seats encircling the stadium were still full of people slowly finding their way out.

In an attempt to find a resolution to your conflict, you circled the stadium and to the opposing team’s locker room. Inside, the walls were lined with green lockers and sea-blue tiles mixed with the occasional white accents. The showers and bathroom stalls were colored in the same way. Because they were the ‘away’ team, they got the color scheme opposite to your team’s pink jerseys.

His earthy tones of brown hair and tanned upper chest stuck out like a sore thumb as you searched for him in each locker dwelling. They were all squarely U-shaped and very much empty, except for one. Renato was facing away from you, digging around in the locker where he temporarily stored all of his little things. As he shifted around in the same spot, your eyes wandered down to the bench. Neatly folded clothes rested on the polished plank of wood. A possibly lucky, beaded necklace dangled from his balled fist as he shoved it into his duffle bag. When he bent over to stuff it in, you noticed that he was only in his underwear, not just shirtless.

“Hey, listen.” He was still turned away, “You weren’t the one starting all those rumors, right? Of us?”

He turned around, shutting the locker. His hands clasped the clothes and he stood erect while facing you head-on. “I have to hit the showers, care to join?”

The perfect thing to clear the air was to steam it up. With grace and without the slightest falter, his thumbs hooked into his underwear and he pushed them down over his cheeks, then they shifted to the front and he did the same. It was done all in one swift motion, lifting a leg from each cuff and stepping out of his underwear without breaking his pace toward the box-room showers. He stayed in front of you, keeping silent. The only sound he made was the soft puttering of his footsteps against the ceramic tile, a reminder of how he could do something so effortlessly and unintentionally human. Your eyes had their instinct to wander to places they had never seen and glance over his ass and thick thighs while they weren’t wrapped in colorful polyester. They were almost so thick, it made seeing his swinging dick impossible to see as if you were peering through the slit of a doorframe where light shone through. You can tell there’s something there, but it’s indiscernible without being on the other side.

His hips sway like it’s an intentional beckoning. It’s one that you’re already wordlessly following, but he reinstates it every time his legs strut. Still uncontrollable, still real. Still a dick.

He stopped and turned before passing through the hole in the wall carved out to enter the showers. You saw his thighs halt and twirl, and you stopped just short of bumping into him, “Are you coming in? You should, you look like a muddied dog in an all-white house.”

“What?”

“You reek of losing.” He tried to sound clearer, unsure if he had accidentally used a mix of his native language and English in his invitation.

You looked down, everything down to your cleats were still on and clinging to you from working up a sweat. Footprints of your odd pathing, of following Renato around like a puppy dog, were tracked around on the tile. “Oh, yeah.”

Stripped of your outward identity, your team, and the morals associated with it, you joined him right as the water had gotten nice and warm. Renato’s skin was bolstered by sweat along his neck and face, since he was careful—and inane in reiteration—to keep his hair dry, but glistened all the same when his chest was under the shower head’s stream. The water trickled down his body, over every curve and ridge. It was a regular sight for his teammates, who were used to the full sight of a meal with steaming freshness, but this made you crave him and his taste. You joined him under his shower head, not even bothering to start up a second one.

Some of it flowed down his abs like a stream with rocks breaking the current and only then did it fall toward the drain once they ventured down his long peninsula. He molded the earth in his hands, the precipitating water, the salt of the sweat, and the warmth of his core. All of it, all under his control, while you could barely keep him out of your thoughts and a hand out of your pants for him.

He seemed to know everything—have everything. “I think you play the wrong sport. You’d be better at pitching over anything else.”

“Yeah? How are you so good at everything you do?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘good.’ And not at everything.”

“And what would you call it?”

“I don’t know, but… I want to know,” he paused. “What word makes you bark… without biting?”

“Are you asking me to shut up?”

He took a step closer, cocking his head. The curls in his hair moved with him, slightly falling in his face. “Do I need to tell you?”

“No,” you gave in to him almost immediately.

His eyes flicked down to the wet tile then back up to you. You tried to read his expression, study his perfect face and all the things he refrained from saying. But there was nothing, it was no use. He still looked stunning under the flow of steaming water and all of your jealousy surfaced from the clear pores he had. Renato’s perfect skin wasn’t secluded to his face, it spanned his whole body. You got to see it up close when you did as his eyes directed, kneeling before him and feeling the water fall off his body and hit you, none of it coming directly from the head of the shower. He controlled the flow.

All he had to do was mutter the words, ‘Help me unwind,’ and you were—he was—letting your hands scale his upper thighs like it was the climb up a peaking mountain. Near the peak, the air was thinning. The only thing filling each breath was steam and him.

His cock dangled down, falling somewhere between the middle of his thighs and his knees. It moved when your fingers encircled the base and that’s when you knew that even his big size could get much bigger. How did you never see this thing packed away in his shorts? The better question was: how did he jump to catch balls in the air with all of this extra weight?

There was a small moment where you cupped all of him in your hands, enjoying it as what it was and not what it needed to be. Still, he managed to fair better to the touch than you ever could. Receptive and cool to the touch in a room full of steam he remains. He was at his hardest, but not at his neediest.

But your mouth felt empty at the sight of this, knowing that it could stretch and fill you any way it’s taken. You let one hand drop and the other wrap around his shaft to point his cock at you directly. Inching closer to it, his bare palm lightly smacked the side of your face, shunning you away. He chides with it, “Ah-ah.”

It’s wordless, but his actions suggest that he wants his goods handled carefully. Not by some second-place goalie who can’t catch a big soccer ball, let alone handle him.

"Você não tem que me chupar, eu tenho que comer sua linda boquinha,” he explained, but you struggled to understand a lick of it. Good thing your tongue wouldn’t be used much to speak. “You look stupid, pretty boy. I’ll show you, ninfeta.”

A hand of his runs through your soaking hair and the other held onto his cock. Quickly, and without warning, he jabbed it against your lips. The soft head speared its way in for entrance. His hips rocked back and forth until you got the obvious sign to let him through and into his own pocket of pleasure.

With his feet firmly planted on the tiled floor, he loomed with stability. He was able to bring you off your knees and down to the base of his cock in one slow pull. He reeled you off of him smoothly only to ram it all back in with the force of his weight. His core flexed and tightened, thighs stuttering from the soreness of the match and the fact that he was on his feet at the moment.

The feeling of your tongue on the underside of his sensitive cock and how your throat fought his presence with each deep thrust into you, the hand in your hair tightening each time, sent his eyes rolling back. So far so, he could have rolled back and slipped on the feeling of euphoria.

You were sure your nose was red from how many times his pubic bone and clean-shaven pubes brushed against it, lightly scratching it every time he smushed the two together. The two collisions—your nose to his pubes and his dick stretching your throat—felt like he was trying to fit a square block in a circular hole. One would be made to fit, and he had already shown which.

Carnally, he thrust with the force of an animal getting its fix. His legs grew less tense by the minute, all moving to the pit of his stomach. Water ran over his dick, spilling into your mouth as his thumbs curled into your lips to stretch them wide. Plap, plap, plap… the noises echoed off the wall. A mix of water and spit spilled over your chin, the amount of it being saliva was unknown to you, but it was obviously a lot since you could feel him pulling more out each time he backed himself up only to slam it all back in.

“Puta vadia,” he whined, leaning his head back, and in short, jagged swings of his hips, he stutters you along his cock. Quickly, glug, glug, glugs flew out.

You hardly even noticed that he had come in those final thrusts until he slowed and stopped. His thumbs unhooked themselves, but as your lips formed a ring around him again, you could feel him twitching and pulsing over your tongue. The water going into your mouth slowed and was back to flowing over your face and body, but his release still dribbled out. It felt like a spoonful of honey pouring down the back of your throat, slowly.

After a moment of heavy breathing and recuperating himself, Renato found himself placing his hands in your hair again, reeling you back until your mouth was empty. He let go of his hold and offered out the same hand to you, “You… make me bad at controlling myself, gostoso.”

You took it and stood up, rebalancing yourself on the wet tile with the help of his shoulders. Once you were steady, you didn’t bother to move them, keeping them slung over him. You wanted to ask him a question, debating whether or not to use your abused throat. “Does that Deep Heat stuff work on your jaw?”

#renato lyra #renato lyra x reader #renato lyra x male reader #fanfic #x male reader #x reader #dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd x małe reader #dead by daylight au #dead by daylight x you #dead by daylight x male reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #game x reader #renato lyra x you #x y/n #x you

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beware-of-eels · 1 year

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Rajbow AU where Bowie and Emma go ice skating during free skate hours at the rink Raj and Wayne work part time to help cover hockey costs

except instead of being bad at it, Bowie fully knowing how to skate- instead faking a minor (graceful) fall so that the cute rink employee with the eyebrows comes over to help him up and check on him. And maybe get his number

Got carried away thinking about this in detail so if you want the longer babbly almost-a-fic version it's under the cut lmao

[disclaimer: everything ik abt ice rinks is from going to the one at the mall like. maybe three times in my life bdbsbnxnd. I live in Texas] [i've also literally never written fanfic and so am not much of a writer but this kind of possessed me when i was bored at work so if the dialogue is bad or ooc and the tense is all off.... no its not lmao]

Anyways - Emma's decided she's going to invest in hobbies that she DIDN'T share with chase, something completely separate and away from him -- chase thinks its to impress him bc of course he does. someone send this boy to detention--and drags Bowie along "so she's not alone, obviously"

good friend that he is, Bowie goes with, and especially bc Bowie DOES know how to skate - pretty well actually. he's no figure skater/hockey player/etc, but if Bowies going to do anything in public he's going to do it well. he can make his way around the rink with ease, manage a little fancy footwork when he wants to, enough to pull a minor trick out of his hat. besides, what's the point of doing something if you can't show off a little bit? never hurts to catch someone's eye, or establish yourself to your peers as someone who knows what they're doing -- and really, Bowie's counting on his reputation to ensure those prom votes.

what Bowie didn't count on was the cute hockey boy that was handing off skate rentals to blush and stammer so sweetly when he flirted with him for the hell of it. and he really didn't count on said cute hockey boy having a shift change and heading onto the rink to fill in as ice monitor pretty soon after he and Emma start skating. Even in the flourescent lighting the boy is cute, and it doesn't take a genius to see how hockey has bulked him up - and he really was so endearing when he was flustered- so Bowie figures why not try his hand at a little more fun. And really, what better way to shoot his shot than to fake needing a little extra help from a buff hockey player?

Naturally Wayne and Raj work their stations together - their manager had tried to separate them once and was QUICK to never make that mistake again - so when they've switched out with their coworkers handling skate rentals, they're immediately out on the ice together, as loud and rambunctious as they can get away with without reprimand

if Raj is a little (not-so) secretly excited to maybe see the cute boy that winked at him earlier - Yknow, bc it made him feel excited! ...whatever that meant - then that's between him, Wayne, and the hockey gods. otherwise hes just pumped to be on the ice with his best bud. They're making their rounds, keeping an eye out for anything dangerous or against the rules that they might have to intervene, and otherwise yelling hockey metaphors and mutual encouragement as loudly as they can get away with

and right when Wayne has to slip away to separate a couple of kids trying to trip eachother, Bowie decides to makes his move

He gives emma the heads up that he's gonna slow down and try something, and does his best to fall as gracefully as he can - maintaining the look of competence is still important after all - while still doing so loud enough to garner the cute hockey boy's - Rajie?- attention. He sits on the ice a second longer than he strictly necessary, and by the time he's ready to stand back up Raj is there holding out a steady hand, bushy eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"oh my god are you okay - here I'll help you up" He looks so worried for a moment that Bowie almost feels bad for lying. Almost.

"well i'm much better now" Bowie throws the boy another wink, earning him the exact flustered face Raj had responded with before. Forget subtlety if that's the reaction he was going to get by being forward, "but I do think my ankle could use a little TLC - care to help me get somewhere to sit down?

"Uh yes! Yes of course, thats. thats what I'm here for!" Raj can feel his face heating up as he stammers under the gaze of the boy in front of him "I'm Raj, uh by the way"

And isn't he just too cute "I'm Bowie, it's nice to meet you"

Raj quickly signals to Wayne the general situation, and then solidifies himself into position to help Bowie up without falling himself. after that it doesn't take too much finagling to get bowie back up to his feet and leaning heavily on raj's shoulder and the two of them start to slowly make their way back off of the rink. Bowie can't help but smile a bit- he was absolutely right about Raj being buff, and he couldn't wait to see what else he had in store.

Raj, nervous about having a cute boy so close to him suddenly, does what he does best - fall into Hockey talk - or in this case, hockey adjacent. Hockey could be a dangerous sport - he'd helped teammates with ankle sprains plenty of times! It would probably help Bowie feel better to know that Raj has this handled "We'll have to check which part of your ankle hurts once we sit you down - just to make sure it's not a fracture. You can lean on me more if you need! its uh, you don't want to put too much pressure on it until we can take a look at it. I should have some extra stuff in my bag to wrap it up if its a sprain, and then I can see if we still have ice packs in the first aid kit! Hopefully it's just a sprain, but dont worry if it's worse I'll still make sure you're okay! When me and wayne - that's my buddy - were kids, I fractured my arm pretty bad at practic-"

Bowie had seen already that Raj was a little nervous talking to him, if plenty enthusiastic. But the sweetness of his scramble to comfort Bowie for an injury that hadn't even occured - not that he had to know that - was invigorating none the less. There was a genuineness to the boy that was refreshing, and he was sure if he was actually hurt, he would be feeling calmed and comforted by his babbling. If not for the talk about first aid, then for the earnestness in Raj's telling of his own past injuries on the ice.

Raj doesn't realize he's still talking until he's helping Bowie sit down on a bench outside near the skate rental area. "oh sorry if that was too much - I'm gonna go get the first aid kit then I'll be right back!"

He walked off quickly, glad for the chance to take a breather, and keep his head from being clouded by sharp eyes and quit witted flirting. Not to mention the bold choice of Bowie to wear a crop top to go ice skating. It certainly did look nice on him

Once Raj returns, he leans down and carefully begins checking Bowies ankle for anything serious - slowly pressing on the skin and rotating the foot to gauge maneuverability. Satisfied with Bowie's assessment that the pain wasn't too bad, he got to work wrapping his foot - Raj wasn't going to let shoddy first aid exacerbate the problem.

Looking down at the hockey player in front of him, Bowie gets to work on his own interests. "Thank you for all your help - usually I consider myself a pretty good skater, but oh well. I guess one person can't be fantastic at everything all the time," he punctuated with a large sigh, wiggling his toes when Raj motions for him to.

"Oh I'm sure you're always fantastic! I've been skating since I could walk and even I still take a tumble from time to time - that doesn't mean you aren't great! I guess mine usually come from bad checks though eh? Oh because I play hockey! I don't remember if I told you that-- A-anyways, I didn't really get to see you skate before you fell but I'm sure you're incredible. I mean you seem incredible. At skating! I mean"

Raj finally cuts himself off, hoping to end the awkardness of his own rambling. All he had to do was finish wrapping up Bowie's ankle and exit the interaction with minimal blushing - he could do that! He could hear Wayne's voice hyping him up in his head - was a snow owl, he'd faced goons bent on injuring and cross checks more than even made sense for a highschool league - he could handle getting through a conversation with a cute boy. Even if said cute boy had long eyelashes and a knowing smile and a pearl necklace expertly framing his neck.

Bowie of course could not be more pleased - it seems Raj was more than just fun to fluster. He was sweet and earnest and clearly passionate about hockey - enough that Bowie found himself actually looking forward to hearing more of Raj's confusing hockey lingo, if it meant seeing that focused look in his eyes when he started getting carried away.

"Well if you really think so, maybe you'd like to see how incredible I am some other time - when you're not working, of course"

"For sure dude! That sounds like loads of fun!" Raj's agreement comes out enthusiastic, until he look down at Bowies ankle in his hands, freshly wrapped and now with an ice pack to match "But not until your ankle's healed up - skating's great but you won't be able to if you hurt your ankle worse by pushing it." The sudden intensity of his expression betraying how seriously the boy takes his sport.

Bowie stifles a laugh "It really doesn't hurt that much, but deal. Maybe you can show me some of your fancy hockey moves while we're at it" he said liltingly. and theres that blush again, hard to see on his skin but clear as day to the boy who triggered it "in the meantime though -can I get your number?"

Raj answers without even taking a beat "Oh I'm number 8! On the snow owls, I'm actually alternate capt-" he's cut off by a gentle hand on his own where it's still holding the ice pack.

"I actually meant your phone number" bowie's ecpression is nothing but kind, so Raj doesn't feel quite so clueless when he manages out a

"Right! yes, right - here let me see your phone"

the two boys quickly exchange numbers, as Bowie continues his previous thought "But I'd love to hear all about your hockey team on our date"

"Yeah! ha, that sounds good."

The two of them stay a moment just to smile at one another, before the moment is broken-

"RAJIE! Are you doin okay there bud? Do you need some help?" "Don't worry Wayners! I'll be over in a sec!"

Raj turns back to Bowie, sheepish "I uh, gotta get back to work, do you have somebody that can take you home safe?"

Bowie presses a quick peck to his cheek, "I've got a friend here with me, no need to worry about little ole me. I'll see you soon though, handsome"

And again that blush. Raj manages to stammer through a goodbye before trudging back to the ice - doing a quick lap around at full speed to release some of his energy before returning to his best friends side. He'd tell Wayne all about it later, for now he was just doing his best not to smile too hard.

Eventually Emma finds her way to Bowie sat on a bench, carefully tying his shoes back over a newly bandaged ankle.

"sooo how'd it go? you didn't really hurt your ankle did you? because you know I'd feel awful for bringing you here if you got hurt and didn't even get a cute boy's number out of it"

"No on the injury, Yes on getting his number - let's head back to your house, I'll catch you up on the ride home"

"Yes! well I'm glad one of us had a good time - after you left Chase walked by - how did he even know we were here? He's so -"

Bowie tunes out the rest of his friends rant, he'd heard this before, and he was sure she'd forgive him for not listening if he told her he was thinking about his upcoming date with Raj. The boy really was too good, and Bowie hadn't even really had to work very hard to find that out. He found himself throwing in an occasional remark to keep Emma going as they walked, thinking about the intensity with which Raj clearly loved sports, about the simple sincerity in the way that he talked. This really could be the start of something special

Yep, the trip to the ice rink had gone better than imagined. He just needed to admit to Raj that he had fallen on purpose and all would be well.

After they were on their date, of course.

#hhhh idk if this is any good but i had to get it out of my system #td spoilers #i guess?#td reboot #td 2023 #total drama #rajbow #td raj #td bowie #total drama island #mine #if this sucks dont tell me n dadvndadk #i started this at lunch today bc i had no new orders to work on #and have spent WAY too much time tonight writing it #so im not proofreading again lmaooo #ok enough self deprecating here is a thing i did #long post

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loveyougoodbi · 4 months

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pretty much all the commentary are taking the lewis move to ferrari as ferrari not trusting charles and this being xyz weakness on charles' part. istg if after yet again another reputation hit inflicted by the team, they either fail to give him the car or even worse, they pull a singapore or austin on charles (both under vasseur btw, can't blame that on binotto) for lewis, i really will be done with this team. good luck to ollie bearman, may you manage to run away in due time.

Pretty much all the commentary is biased towards Lewis in one way or another. Sky Sports IS f1 at this point. They are so ingrained in it. And they worship Lewis. I am very much not looking forward to that part of it. But that is only gonna make it harder for us fans. Charles will (for the most part) be unaffected. At least that's what he should do, hope Max can give him some tips on how to ignore those British pricks.

Maybe this is wishful thinking on my part, maybe it's just me hating what happened in Austin to the point of denial but I dont think something as extreme is gonna happen again. And I haven't written an extra long essay in 2 days so congrats!! Let's see why these 2 instances happened under Vasseur and why they will not happen again.

1. Singapore 2023

Fred needed that win. And when I say that I mean Fred AND CHARLES needed that win. Fred being a new TP (brought in to please Charles) needed to have results. Nothing and I mean NOTHING was allowed to stay in the way of Fred's first win with ferrari In a season like 2023. Charles was well aware of this. No matter how much Singapore hurts us, Charles was not helping Carlos in the moment. He was not even helping Ferrari. He was helping Fred. For Fred to get the respect he needs within the higher ranks of the team. Because Charles believes in the future Fred has in mind for the team. But for that future to be a possibility the TP needs to have that trust and that reputation. Both of them needed to say "see? We won! In 2023" want more of this? Trust US. And they (Fred and Charles) were successful. You're telling me Charles didn't want to attack? You're telling me he couldn't attack? That would be drama tho, they didn't need drama not after Monza. They needed the win!!

Charles made a mistake in quali and it cost him. They then had to make an adjustment to the plan and bring the win home anyway. When I say I trust Charles to make the right decisions this is what I mean. He knows how to disobey orders and attack (again, Monza) yet he did the opposite of that in Singapore. In history it will say that Carlos won that race. In reality Charles was the one who brought the win. Talk to the wall if you dont agree.

2. Austin. I get sad even thinking about it.

Fucking Austin man! Charles was a victim of his own skill. The only reason he had the wrong strategy was because he was too good at tire management. That's it that's the reason. Carlos did not get the better strategy on some strategic or backstage genious. No. He simply ate his tires and they gave him what they thought was the worse strategy. Why they didn't switch mid race? Because that's not what ferrari does. 🙄 adapting is not a word In their vocabulary. And this is one of the things that I hope will change with the new mechanics and engineers and all other personnel that Lewis will likely bring with him.

I'm not saying strategy mistakes like this will never happen again. They probably will but if we are lucky (and them better) they will happen a lot less than recent years. Hell even last year, apart from Austin and maybe Hungary I can not remember another prominent strategy mistake the team made (Carlos' strategy in Abu Dhabi was the right call and you can fight me on this)

Will they make a team decision in favor of Lewis at some point this season? Probably. It's Lewis Hamilton. Will Charles listen and submit to team orders? No. It's Charles Leclerc. He didn't do it for Seb when he was essentially a rookie in the Ferrari. He's not gonna do it when he has 5 years of experience and a team of people he brought along with a TP he got. Charles is not gonna listen. And when he does listen it is gonna be for scheming reasons. Because it works in his favor (remember what we said about Singapore)

So frankly I don't think we have anything to worry about. Apart from, you know, Lewis bitching on the radio and Crofty bitching from his commentators seat. But we're used to all that.

#anon #lewis vs charles #charles leclerc #ferrari

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cavalierious-whim · 3 months

Text

Fun-Raising (Neuvithesley)

Part of 'Tea & Paperwork'.

Neuvillette gets a little handsy underneath the table at a fundraising dinner.

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Wriothesley has the pleasure of usually being passed over when it comes to state dinners with one exception.

“So, the Fortress of Meropide as you know,” he begins, “is mostly an autonomous zone. We make Meka for Fontaine and are well-compensated for that, but we still govern ourselves, making finances difficult to manage at times. Monsieur Neuvillette is kind with any proposed budgets, but there is a reality that most are unwilling to speak of—there are just too many inmates and too few resources.”

Fundraising dinners. Wriothesley is a charismatic man and friendly enough, but wining and dining rich Elites to fork over donations to keep the cogs of Meropide well-oiled is certainly not his preferred activity. The former administrator did not bother which is why when Wriothesley was younger the Fortress was a mess of gangs and the ill-repute.

He’s guided it into better times, yes, but change comes at a cost, and that’s occasionally rubbing elbows against the fancier fare found within Fontaine’s court.

At least he is not alone this time. Navia gives him a look of pity from where she sits across the table, politely dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. Clorinde looks as though she’d rather be anywhere else—and Wriothesley knows she would be. Polite, yes. Conversational… no. Furina makes up for it, though, by easing the way of conversation just as she would a stage play, but she lost a lot of her heft with the death of her title.

Neuvillette is quiet. Contemplative. He has seen Wriothesley at work, spinning his words in the way that he does plenty of times, but this is the first fundraising effort set into motion since Focalors died and Neuvillette stepped into her shoes as the reigning Hydro Sovereign. Not that he’s never had influence, but this time, his influence has sway, not that Wriothesley expects him to step in.

The food is bland. The wine is subpar but it’s what the budget allowed. Everyone picks at their food politely but Wriothesley thinks he should’ve taken up the Traveler’s offer of inviting Chef Xiangling over and taking her for a spin.

“I’m sure that you looked over the reports I sent to you before this dinner,” says Wriothesley. He’s answered by a litany of murmurs and nods as nameless faces confirm that they at least received them. “As you can see—”

“Why don’t you cut to the chase, Your Grace?” one woman cuts in. She’s older, with a sharp gaze and hair piled atop her head. Wriothesley wonders how much money she spent on the stuffed bird that graces her hat. “It is no secret that you’ve come begging for money. So, tell us, what are the… enhancements—” She says the word as if it pains her. “—that you plan to implement?”

Wriothesley feels his jaw tense but wills himself to remain calm. “Ah. Begging—that may technically be true but do we need to say it so plainly? Would you call it begging if another benefactor requested your patronage for a new park in the Court?”

The woman’s expression sours but she does not retort, and Wriothesley smiles. “To answer your question, though,” he continues, “the changes we are considering are basic at best, mostly intended to improve the lives of those living in the Fortress.”

“Criminals, you mean,” says another man with a frown.

“I’ll kindly remind you that not everyone within Meropide has been on the wrong side of the law—there are families who make their home here unless you think that children should be considered as such.”

Soft tittering across the table. Clorinde’s eyebrows rise high and she chugs a swig of her wine. Navia looks anywhere but his face, and Neuvillette—well, he looks as placid as ever, seemingly distracted by his thoughts. This is why Wriothesley hates these sorts of functions.

“Look, that isn’t the point,” continues Wriothesley. “Our primary concerns this year are pretty simple: better food, better housing, and updates to the general infrastructure in the aftermath of the Primordial Sea wreaking havoc, yeah? We just want to improve our quality of life.”

The man looks offended at the thought, but the woman from before seems to consider this. “Not the worst idea,” she says. “A better quality of life would mean more Meka production, no?”

Wriothesley gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach his mouth. “See? You’re beginning to understand.” Archons, he hates people like this. “It’s all about how if you scratch our back, we’ll scratch—” Wriothesley stops dead.

A hand presses against his knee. The barest swipe of a thumb against the bone there, tracing the folds of his trousers. Neuvillette. Wriothesley forces himself to not look, to not think about the touch. Odd. Neuvillette would never, not at a time like this. Surely it’s just to ground him. Surely it’s just to offer silent support because he’s noticed just how agitated Wriothesley is.

“Apologies, I just lost my thought,” says Wriothesley.

“If we were to give you funds,” the woman asks, “how much would you pocket? I’m asking genuinely, by the way. No need to dodge around it.”

Wriothesley blinks. “I don’t pocket any. Most of my personal earnings are funneled back into Meropide to begin with, but donations, in general, never see my bank account. I—” Wriothesley chokes.

Neuvillette’s hand skitters upwards along his leg, tracing the line of his thigh. Oh. Oh. No, this is—

This is the sort of shenanigans Wriothesley would dish out, never the prim and proper Monsieur Neuvillette. Something is wrong. Even if Neuvillette has found himself indulging in more… adventurous aspects of their personal life recently, never before has it been something so public.

“I…”

“Your Grace?” prompts the woman.

Neuvillette sits closely enough at the tight table that nothing looks untoward. Already they were knocking elbows as they cut into their dinner, so a hand against Wriothesley's thigh would go unnoticed. But then those fingers tilt, knuckles dragging over the crotch of his trousers, and because Wriothesley is so woefully gone for this man, his cock immediately flares to life as a result.

A soft hiss is let loose, and Wriothesley does his best to cover it up with a cough. “Sorry, something got lodged in my throat, I think. Let me—” He does his best to clear it, shifting in his seat to ease the pressure of Neuvillette’s hand.

Wriothesley finally shoots him a glance and Neuvillette watches back with a satisfied expression, one edge of his mouth slightly upturned. Most would not notice. Wriothesley does. Clorinde does—

Clorinde. She leans back in her chair, hand against her chin, staring in wide-eyed surprise at Neuvillette’s… forwardness.

“As I was saying,” murmurs Wriothesley next. He thinks his voice is clear and unwavering. Strong enough. Aside from Clorinde, no one else seems to notice anything untoward. “You scratch our backs, we scratch yours. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”

“Parasitic, more like,” drawls the man. “At times.”

“Any more so than someone of your stature? Tell me, Monsieur, just how is it that you’ve made your fortune aside from generational wealth?”

“Arguing gets us nowhere,” cuts in the woman with a huff.

She goes on to ask a question that Wriothesley entirely misses because all he can think about is the way that Neuvillette’s fingers trace the length of his cock. The fabric of his trousers is thick and Neuvillette wears gloves, but Wriothesley can feel the heat that rises, that curdles his gut, that begins to coil tight the more that he’s touched.

He’s fully hard and twitching in his clothing, and Neuvillette takes advantage of that by grinding the heel of his palm against Wriothesley's lap.

“Meka—” blurts Wriothesley. Everyone at the table looks at him with concern—except for Clorinde who hides a snicker behind her hand. “I—what I mean to say is that you mentioned it—before. Um. Right, right, so if those in Meropide aren’t incentivized to work, who would—” Wriothesley drags a hand down his face. “Again, apologies. I think this wine might be hitting me hard.”

“I’ll admit,” says Clorinde, “it’s a shitty wine but the alcohol content is decent. You’re looking a little red in the face, Your Grace. Are you okay?”

Oh, fuck her. And then Neuvillette laughs, just a soft chuckle, so fuck him too.

Wriothesley pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m finding it hard to focus, that's all.”

“A shame,” says Neuvillette as if he isn’t fondling Wriothesley's dick underneath the table. “I for one would like to hear more of your budget plans for the season.”

Absurd. Absolutely absurd. Wriothesley tries and fails to settle his thoughts. Neuvillette’s hand is sinful, squeezing at his cock, rubbing it through thick cotton. Soon, Neuvillette proves just how deft those fingers are as he pulls a button free on the opening of Wriothesley's trousers entirely one-handed.

Wriothesley stills again. Waits. Another button pops free, Neuvillette’s gloved fingers dipping into the waistband to rest against his heated flesh. This is bad. This is very, very bad. Wriothesley holds the stem of his wine glass in a white-knuckled grip and misses another question.

“Your Grace?”

“I—ah. What did you ask?”

The woman pauses and purses her lips. “I asked if you had a calendar plan to implement these ideas? Is there a schedule to consider?”

“Infrastructure first,” says Wriothesely automatically. “At least, bits of it. We’ll take care of the more pressing areas that are leaking—subtly, I promise. Nothing dangerous at the moment, but it’s better to focus there first.”

The woman nods, accepting this answer, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

And then Neuvillette’s hand curls around his cock properly for a quick squeeze.

Wriothesley jerks in his seat. He counts to ten. He thinks of terrible things; rotten food, old guys naked—but then he thinks of Neuvillette who’s ancient and looks very good naked, and—

“Please, if you’d excuse me for a moment,” he says, hand dropping to Neuvillette’s wrist for a tug.

Clorinde snorts loud enough for Navia to give her a concerned look. Neuvillette, thankfully, extricates his hand before sipping his wine like nothing is amiss.

Wriothesley stands awkwardly, trying to hide his erection by clinging to his napkin. Of course he’d pulled off his jacket. Of course it lays across the back of his chair, as proper manners would dictate. He just hopes no one questions his death grip on the napkin as he toddles away awkwardly.

“Understandable,” says the old woman with a nod. “Cream-based soups are, oftentimes, hard on the stomach. We’ll patiently await your return.”

Wriothesley doesn’t know what is more mortifying—the fact that Neuvillette stands as well with the intent to follow, citing that he’ll ensure Wriothesley's health as his partner, or Clorinde’s horrifically loud laughter in response.

“Neuvillette,” hisses Wriothesley when he’s boxed in against the wall. The corridor is dark and abandoned—normally they hold these sorts of dinners somewhere nice but Wriothesley just had to suggest the Fortress itself this time. A blessing and a curse. It’s late enough that there are only Gardes around, but they don’t bother to patrol this close to his personal quarters.

“That tone.” Neuvillette immediately shoves his face against Wriothesley's nape and inhales deeply. “You sound annoyed.”

“Really? You don’t think?”

Neuvillette chuckles against the column of his throat and kisses it. “You complain,” he says, dragging a hand down Wriothesley's chest, his side, and across his hip until it halts at the front of his trousers, “but this part of you is honest, isn’t it?”

Wriothesley could literally be boiling alive and Neuvillette’s hand on his dick would still make it hard. The Primordial Sea could be crashing towards him in a wave, and he’d still get it up at the mere thought of Neuvillette groping him unprompted.

Which Neuvillette does right now, slipping his hand back into his trousers to pull Wriothesley's cock free. Wriothesley groans, his head slamming back against the wall. He isn’t sure if the stars are from a potential concussion, or the fact that Neuvillette strokes him from base to tip, thumbing across the tip.

“Wet,” teases Neuvillette.

“That’s—”

“Mhm, and hard, too. Does it ache?”

Wriothesley whines as Neuvillette works his cock, the fabric of his glove annoyingly rough. He’d prefer the smooth skin of Neuvillette’s uncalloused palm. “Fuck,” he mutters as Neuvillette spreads the precome that dribbles from the tip, uncaring the mess that it makes, or how damp his gloves now are. “Sweetheart—” Usually, when Wriothesley calls him that it’s a sweet thing, soft and warm, but this moment he bites it out as a curse.

“You should have seen yourself,” says Neuvillette before Wriothesley can further complain. His hand is wicked as he works him, leaving no inch of his cock untouched. A quick stroke, a squeeze around the tip—Wriothesley moans, his hand curling around the back of Neuvillette’s neck as he whispers dirty talk into his ear. “I’ve seen you at work many times, Wriothesley. I’ve seen you make reports, and file paperwork, but never have I seen you command such authority. Never have I seen you fight for what you think is right.”

Oh. Well, that explains it. Neuvillette calls him capable all of the time and often imparts what a strong mate he is, but—

Neuvillette mouths at his neck, suckling it, teeth gliding across hot, sweaty skin. “I often need you,” he murmurs, nipping at Wriothesley's flesh, kissing across his damp collar and chasing every inch that he can, “but so rarely do I need you in such a visceral way. I could not wait—”

“I noticed. I’ve never seen you so—hah, that’s—” Neuvillette’s palm twists around the head of his cock in a way that makes him forget his words. He aches. Pleasure already pulls taut in his gut, threatening to bubble over and pull Wriothesley along for the ride.

“Quickly now,” says Neuvillette, sucking a mark just underneath his jaw. “If we take too long they may ask questions.”

They’ll notice the damn hickey too but won’t say a thing. Who would cross Neuvillette? No one, which is why he’s so free with how he bites at Wriothesley's flesh. Hydro slicks Neuvillette’s glove, easing the way for a faster grip. Wriothesley moans, biting at his lip and failing to hide it, counting every stroke along his length.

“Sweetheart—Neuvillette—”

One, two, three, and he’s coming, spilling all over Neuvillette’s hand in what Wriothesley might consider a record-breakingly quick orgasm.

“Good boy,” whispers Neuvillette, kissing the shell of his ear, and tracing it with the tip of his forked tongue. “Such a good boy for me. Yes, just like that.”

There is no way that a hand job will satisfy Neuvillette. No, Wriothesley knows that tone, the dark, heady tint of his voice wrapped in velvet arousal. These are those older instincts, the ones that beg for Neuvillette to stake his claim. Were it not for a very important dinner, Wriothesley would already have his chest against his wall and his trousers yanked down around his thighs.

Neuvillette drops his cock slowly and with regret. A soft sigh. A kiss to Wriothesley's jaw, the arch of his cheek, and the tip of his nose. Wriothesley swallows thickly, watching as Neuvillette pulls back just enough to peel off that soiled glove and tuck it away into his pocket. And then the other, leaving behind bare, pale hands, cold like crisp water.

He warms them against Wriothesely’s face, cupping his cheeks and tilting his mouth towards him. “A pity,” says Neuvillette, “that there is a dinner we have to get back to. What I would give to steal you away right now and have my way with you instead.”

“You can later,” says Wriothesley, chasing his mouth, deepening the kiss. “Just a little bit longer. I was good for you, so can you be good for me?”

Neuvillette laughs against Wriothesley's mouth and nips at his bottom lip, fangs sinking into it just enough to slice the edge open. A small bead of blood is licked away before Neuvillette pulls away to admire his work.

“That isn’t behaving,” says Wriothesley, and though he maintains cool composure, his insides are on fire again, set ablaze by Neuvillette’s targeted gaze.

Neuvillette drags his thumb over his lip, lingering at where it’s now split open. “I will not apologize.”

“Noted.” Wriothesely closes the distance for another short and sweet kiss. “Really though, we’ve got to get back otherwise we’ll never hear the end of it from Clorinde.”

Neuvillette hums at that. “She has a sharp eye.”

“Apt for a sharpshooter.”

“She will tease us, no?”

“Forever,” replies Wriothesely.

Neuvillette’s expression softens, melting into something fond. “There are worse things, I would think.”

He has no idea. Neuvillette has no idea what it’s like to be at the end of Clorinde’s eternal nagging. Wriothesley thinks it’ll be better for him to experience it organically. A crooked grin is all that he gives Neuvillette, and they walk the entire way back, fingers hooked together.

When seated at that table, Wriothesley clears his throat. “I apologize for that. I’m feeling a lot better.”

“I bet,” says Clorinde, her gaze dragging from Wriothesley to Neuvillette, and then back, settling on his busted lip. “Did you walk into a wall or something?”

“Or something,” replies Wriothesley without a beat. “Now, about that budget proposal—”

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” cuts in the lady from across the table, her hawklike gaze sharp and calculating. “What happened to your gloves?”

“They got wet. Pay it no matter.”

She tilts her head, no doubt surprised. Neuvillette does not make it a habit to run around bare-handed and she, and their other guests have never seen the likes of it. Still, as expected, no one says anything further.

Wriothesley manages to make it through the rest of dinner and wheedle out a generous donation. And later, in the comfort of his bed when blissfully alone, Neuvillette considers this a cause to celebrate, wringing Wriothesley dry until he can’t think of anything else.

#Cavalierious Fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin #genshin smut #neuvithesley #neuvillette/wriothesley #tea & paperwork

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effervescentdragon · 2 years

Note

also, schuclerc + sewis I need it for the self indulgence

bullying (you making one post and me jumping at the opportunity to tinkerbell) works <3

They make sure not to be obvious about it, that they are attending the races together. Everyone who needs to know, knows already, though, so it's a moot point, hiding it. It's kind of funny if you ask Seb, being the open secret in the paddock.

If you ask Lewis, he will just roll his eyes and do that half-smile in the corner of his mouth, and say "Seb has always had the most awful sense of humor".

He tends to forget he laughed at the 'graining' joke, not once, but twice. Mick delights in reminding him, because even though he is a Mercedes driver and there is solidarity with Lewis there, he was Seb's friend first.

Lewis doesn't need an invitation to the races; everyone is desperate for him to show up. Mick thinks that they would like some warning before he does exclusively for the reason of rolling out a red carpet. Everyone falls all over themselves for even a chance at a soundbite, SKY first and foremost. Jenson keeps texting him about an exclusive, and Lewis keeps leaving him on Read.

Seb, on the other hand, thinks it's hillarious, and texts Jenson with more and more outrageous reasons why Lewis can't give him an interview. The last time he showed the texts to Mick, it was apparently because they were "supposed to film a threesome with an unnamed royal" and Lewis was "waxing Seb's feet". Mick thought he was going to die, he was laughing so much. The time before that, it was because they were "watching their potatoes grow in real time not to miss the milestones of growth and feel like bad parents". That one made Charles snort the mashed potatoes through his nose and ask, play-distraught, if he was eating the Sewis babies, which in turn made both Mick and Lewis lose it, while Seb ranted about what a stupid word it was, Sewis, and who in the hell came up with it? Mick couldn't stop looking at Charles, a devious glint in his eye present the whole time as he was winding Sebastian up the way nobody else could, basically calling him a dinosaur throughout the whole dinner.

But he's getting distracted. He always does, thinking about Charles. He doesn't mind it much; Charles is very distracting.

If anyone had asked Mick (which nobody does, because apparently, he has the "Schumacher Murder Glare" and people don't dare disturb him about silly things), the best way of predicting when Lewis will be in the paddock is to find out when Sebastian will be there. He doesn't have his former teams fighting to roll out a red carpet in front of him by his former teams (even though Mick thinks the Aston Martin guys would probably do it in a second without even having to be asked, if he said he was coming to their garage); what he does have is the best accomplice for wreaking havoc on the grid, and especially in Ferrari.

What he has is Charles. Charles, with his angelic smile and confused eyes and always, always a ticket with all-access for Sebastian. Charles, with his warm hugs and "Oh, Sebastian, how wonderful to see you, come, let me show you the car, oh, of course, only the parts you are allowed to see". Charles, with a wide-gaze pointed at Binotto and a younger brother on the team, who happens to need to talk to their TP just as the management is passing by while Seb is there, decidedly not looking at the time-sheets.

Charles, who does everything in his power to fuck with the people he doesn't like while maintaining his angel-like reputation, and everything possible and impossible to get Sebastian where everyone knows he will end up sooner or later.

Back in red; back on top of the world.

Mick wonders, sometimes, if he did the right thing going to Mercedes instead. He doesn't ask Sebastian about it; he knows what he would say. He knows what Seb did say to him, and he can't put his doubts on Sebastian, when he knows what it cost him, to give Mick impartial advice back then. Mick loves him so very much for it, and refuses to ask him anything else about it.

He watches Sebastian and Charles talk to a group of mechanics. He sees British racing green, and orange, and dark blue, and red. He can't help but smile, because only Sebastian and Charles. Only the two of them can gather all those different people around and have them laughing like old friends, despite everything that is going on; despite rivalries; despite competition. Only Seb and Charles.

"What are you thinking?"

Mick turns, and there Lewis is. He looks amazing; but then again, he always did. Having his own fashion line does help with the consistency of his good looks, and Mick has worn some of it and gotten a very positive reception. (Mainly from Charles. The memory of Charles' appreciation makes him have to supress a shiver.) It's also an endless source of fun for Mick and frustration for Lewis, because Sebastian refuses to wear anything that isn't an oversized t-shirt with a hoodie or a lumberjack shirt over it, while Charles is sincerely hopeless about fashion. It makes Mick laugh, and Lewis purse his lips and grit his teeth.

Mick bites his lip, because he isn't sure if he should say the truth.

"Come on, Mick," Lewis smiles, and his gap-tooth shows in an adorable way. "Aren't we past the 'solemn and suffering' phase? You know you can tell me anything." He steps closer, and Mick can smell his perfume. It's the same one he smelled on Sebastian, when they hugged in greeting on track. That makes him smile.

"Granted, I know I'm not Seb," Lewis goes on, "but I think I have some valuable experience too." He keeps smiling, and Mick's reservations are slowly melting away. "Mercedes boys solidarity. Tell me what's wrong."

Mick chances a look back at Charles and Seb, who are now trying to talk over each other, to the grand amusement of the mechanics around them.

"Did I do the right thing when I said no to them?"

The words fly out of his mouth and he wishes he can take them back. It's not because he thinks Lewis may judge him. It's because he knows he won't.

He looks back at Lewis, who is already looking at him. His eyes are contemplative, but they are also very soft. Mick feels like a child again suddenly. Lewis hums.

"Do you know I turned down Ferrari at least two times in my life?"

It's common knowledge; Mick knows that. He nods, apprehensive, and Lewis nods back.

"If I hadn't, I would've been driving with Seb, you know," Lewis says softly. "Multiple World Champions Lewis Hamilton and Sebastian Vettel, together at Ferrari. A wet dream for any sports fan, and the wettest dream for Ferrari." He chuckles, and it's not a nice chuckle. "We would've devoured each other."

Mick almost steps back at the tone of Lewis' voice. Lewis goes on, looking at Charles and Seb as he speaks.

"We would've pushed each other, that is true, but it wouldn't have been good, Mick. It would've been fucking awful." He snorts. "It was awful already when we were Championship rivals in different teams, if you remember, and I refused to have a - another friendship disintegrate for a second time because of us being teammates. It would've been even worse if we both wore red when it happened."

Mick knows what Lewis is talking about. He wants to look away from the darkness on his face, because Lewis shouldn't be sad. Lewis should never be sad, after everything, and Mick doesn't want to see it.

He doesn't look away. It would be disrespectful, to shun away from the way Lewis is tearing himself open to help Mick.

"We would've been like Senna and Prost, you know. Awful to each other. The worst. And neither of us would ever recover," Lewis says. "And I refuse to kill the good parts in Sebastian. I care about him too much." He smiles, and his whole face lights up. "Apparently I always did, even when I didn't know it."

"And Ferrari was Sebastian's dream, you know. Of course you do, what am I saying." He pauses, then goes on carefully. "He was always aiming for Ferrari, and it was his - his destiny, I think, to drive for them."

Mick clenches his fists. He knows. Il Predestinato, he thinks, because Lewis won't say it, but they both know it. Lewis is silent for a moment, observing the scene across from them. Mick watches Lewis, because he needs to see; he needs to understand.

"We would've been like Prost and Senna, so I made a choice for us, even though he never knew." Lewis turns back to Mick, and his eyes are unbearably soft. "I chose for us to be like Michael and Mika instead."

Mick's heart starts beating faster. Lewis' expression is apologetic, and Mick doesn't know what his face looks like in that moment, but he hopes that Lewis can see that it's okay. It's okay, what he just said. He nods, once, and Lewis looks like he wants to say something else, but Mick can't - he doesn't need to hear it.

Mick looks away, and Charles is talking now, Seb looking at him with a proud smile. Charles is beautiful, always, but he is most beautiful in movement. His eyes sparkle, and his hands fly around in gestures, and his face is an open book, and Mick is so in love with him, it hurts to even think about it sometimes. His red fireproofs are tied around his waist, and Seb is holding onto his cap so his hair is in disarray. Mick can't wait to kiss him again. He can't wait to mess up his hair, and to hold him as they sleep, and to have lunches and dinners with Seb and Lewis, and to tease them all and get teased in return, and to hold Charles' hand under the table and to hip-check him in the media pen and to kiss him, and kiss him again, and then kiss him some more.

None of that would be possible if he, too, wore red.

"Yeah," he croaks out, watching Charles mime something that makes the whole group burst into laughter and Sebastian punch his arm, a grin permanently etched on his face. "Yeah, I understand."

Mick turns then, and Lewis is looking straight at him, and he is smiling, and Mick is so glad to have him as a friend.

"I thought you might," Lewis says, and they don't need to talk about it anymore, because they both know.

(They were the ones who had to make a choice; because Seb and Charles never could; and Seb and Charles never would; and neither Mick nor Lewis would ever ask it from neither Charles, nor Seb. They loved them too much for that.)

"Now tell me, who do you think is going to come over to complain about the other first?"

Mick startles, and laughs, and Lewis laughs with him when they both say "Seb" at the same time.

The world keeps turning; the sun keeps shining; they keep laughing, and Mick's doubts, slowly, one by one, settle.

#HERE YOU GO KYLE #schuclerc #sewis #this is mostly talking but i hope you like it #f1 rpf #my writing #effervescentdragonwrites #i go realk soft here dont @ me im still going through it #please lmk what you think i live off feedback #and delusions but mainly feedback

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notsosilentsister · 1 year

Text

The Diplomat

I kinda get why one might keep the awful husband around - he's a loose cannon who gets results, an asset as much as a liability. And while Kate often disagrees with him about the means, they do seem to be on the same page regarding the ends, which does matter, after all. You do get the sense that they share certain core values. So keeping him around is a high risk, high reward strategy.

It also seems like Kate's living a bit vicariously through him - she's so very restrained (as signified for instance by the eating disorder), and in a way he's a permission mechanism, sabotaging the restraint, and at the same time a cautionary tale, justifying the restraint. Maybe he's her Jungian shadow, doing what she doesn't allow herself to do. I also kinda get how you might love someone while not at all trusting them, and that always makes for an interesting dynamic. He still has to go - I'm on episode four - at least for a while, because I ship Kate with the State secretary. Competence porn, for sure, but I'm so jaded about politics at this point that it's starting to break my suspension of disbelief. People are all so professional, focussed on the task at hand. Sure, there may be some personal vanity involved on occasion, but the show does a good job showing how seemingly frivolous things can be valid concerns when you're in the business of reputation management. (Kate acknowledges that the presidend is right to worry about looking old and weak - there's an undeniable cost to it, it's just that the cost of a show of strength would be higher in this particular case). And sure, people fuck up, but so far all the fuck ups are the sort you easily might make when you have to make quick decisions based on insufficient information, and it's often easy to see how every alternative option could have led to something disastrous just as well. It want to see some unforced errors! But unforced errors are made at one's leisure, which no one has in this show and that brings me to my main issue: pacing and stakes. Which are too fast, and too high, respectively, for my taste. I tend to prefer the sort of character study, where characters get some room to breathe (and rope to hang themselves with; for that, you gotta cut them some slack). That's what I really loved about the Americans, where the pace could ramp up to nail-biting degrees at the drop of a hat, but also linger, allow for a slow, downright torturous build-up of tension, for treacherous lulls in the action, a temptation to succumb to the lure of mundanity, the American dream in suburbia, a false sense of security. You might easily lose track of something, that would later come back to bite you in the ass, which added to the suspense, and made the sudden eruptions of violence, always simmering below the surface, seem more shocking and at the same time more inevitable, less contrived. I always kinda had to steel myself to watch the Americans and would be left reeling for a while after a lot of episodes. Well, this is more of a comedy, but the pace for me is is too constant, I guess. I'm also not sure that I buy into the central thesis as formulated by the awful husband, that the person most suited for power is the one being thrust into it by circumstances instead of actively seeking it out. It's a very popular sentiment (why your average hero first has to refuse the call), but a bit too romantic for my taste.

I mean, obviously you'd want someone in power who sees power only as a means to an end - to protect, to promote - and not as an end in itself. But that seems less about "wanting power" vs "not wanting power" and more about what precisely one might want the power for. And personally, I do actually feel more comfortable with someone in power who does care enough about power to study it, to find out how it works and how it doesn't work in any given situation, and who can hold onto it long enough to actually implement a proper reform. Being naive about power has never helped any cause. For what it's worth, I do think that both Hal and Kate actually care very much about power in this way. But right now, they both would rather be the power behind the throne, and that's not gonna work, because someone also has to sit on it. I mean, Kate would argueably still be a power behind the throne as a VP, but one suspects that Hal's idea is more about Kate pulling the president's strings, and Hal pulling Kate's. It's a good conflict! Anyways, I would have always watched this for Kerri Russel no matter what, and would certainly watch another season as well.

#the diplomat #kerri russell #rufus sewell #TV show #review #personal #journal

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lavenoon · 1 year

Note

In AU, how does y/n try to help Sun get over being self-conscious about the purring? And why is he self-conscious at all if Moon does it too and he isn't?

Well, Sun and Moon are still individuals, and have a couple differing opinions on their features! (After all, Sun also isn't a big fan of the night and thermal vision color scheme, and only uses them when absolutely necessary and ideally when no one can see). Moon just doesn't care that much, his reputation (as far as Y/N is concerned) is "menace (affectionate)" and he can purr all he likes. Meanwhile Sun... just doesn't think it matches him anymore.

He used to do it more, when they were younger and still working off their creation cost in the daycare. Calm down children and entertain them as they giggle and ask him to do it again - so there's also the association that it's something childish, something he left behind, and no longer applicable to his current lifestyle!

He's really embracing the suave agent (or trying to), or at the very least the mature if friendly civilian, and doesn't feel like purring really matches that persona. Add to that that he's only engaging in very limited civilian contact, much less friendly civilian contact, and doesn't really engage in intimacy with anyone who isn't already part of his family.

And that's what it is! The purring is meant to soothe, and works best with close physical contact. That's just nothing for the broad public! That's something the boys reserve for anyone they want to protect and care for, and before Y/N, those were very very limited.

So once Y/N does learn about that handy little feature from Moon, they of course get curious about hearing it from Sun, too!

It takes a bit, and they have to be a tad careful - Sun is proud, and very concerned about leaving the right impression, so telling him it's "cute" can be a hit or miss depending on the context. "I like it, makes me feel safe" is a lot better, and tricks him by using his "I need to be helpful" instinct. Main AU Y/N also is nocturnal, and thus sleeps during the day when Sun is out. When they manage to finagle their way into a cuddle session before they conk out, perhaps on those rare days off when Sun has nowhere to be either, that's when even a cute will be forgiven - sleepy Y/N with no filter, snuggling close and closer to that soothing sensation, mumbling a quiet little "'s cute, don't stop" - and really, how could he deny them then?

Having his partner be vulnerable in front of him, trusting him enough to sleep right next to him while he stays awake, in their profession? That's a major show of trust, and love, and he simply has to believe them when they compliment the feature he's feeling self-conscious about.

As their relationship grows and they start growing comfortable with the domesticity of it all, Sun loosens up more and more and purrs more freely - but only in private, and he insists on getting his cuddles every time <3

#answer let luce #anonymous #accidentally undercover #theres also the darker aspect of animatronics being integrated in society but still treated as other by people #so Sun; after having to fight to be respected (esp in main AU where he doesn't get the “star agent defends the newbie” scene like Dusk)#just doesn't want to show anything that others could use to further dehumanize him #but Y/N is just. a goober. I mean they use novelty gadgets #they see their beloved partner go “purr” and their pupils dilate like a cat's too #they're just *genuine* about it and that's what helps Sun ease up on the shyness #he wants to impress them #and apparently... purring impresses them?#unexpected (for him) turn of events; but he'll adapt!

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emeritus-moon · 2 years

Text

{ENGLISH} Secundo (Papa II) x Gn!Reader

Request : None

Gender : Neutral

Who : Secundo | Papa Emeritus II

A/N : {WARNING} : SELF-HARM - VULGAR VOCABULARY - Italian Google Translate | I had this idea some days ago. What about a Papa Emeritus II confronting your bullies? | (F/N = Friend Name)

- - - : Timeskip

~ ~ ~ : Flashback

- - -

You have worked in the Abbey for years alongside Papa Emeritus II. Sister Imperator had to find a solution at all costs to make the Second Papa work to satisfy the Clergy so she opted for the idea of finding him a right arm.

And of course, that right arm is none other than you.

Only, since you were promoted to this role, some of your friends have moved away from you, some people who ignored you strangely give you their full attention overnight and only ask you about Papa II and other specimens have fun talking behind your back...

Three months ago, you started learning rumors about you. Your great friend, Sister F/N, told you that some employees in the Abbey called you Papa's Sinner or else by vulgar names that she wouldn't even like to mention to respect you.

All you did when you heard those rumors was smile and just say "They're probably jsut kidding!". You totally denied their insults when it started. You reassured yourself by saying to yourself "Who does not insult as a child of Satan?". A part of your words was not wrong, but never the God of the Underworld would allow disrespect to reign. These malicious people had to stop, and as soon as possible...

Today, you have just completed another day of work. You also worked a few extra hours to help Secundo with his work. He'd had a lot of extra paperwork with Sister Imperator and the Clergy this morning, so you couldn't leave him alone with so much work, especially as a tour is fast approaching!

You let out a sigh as you lean back against your door after closing it. Your eyes drowsy from fatigue. To tell you the truth, these last few days you haven't been able to sleep very easily.

The rumors are getting more and more constant and now you hear them for yourself. You no longer need F/N to report them to you.

Thinking back to the awful words said about you by your brothers and sisters, you roll up the sleeves of your shirt and stare at the few cuts drawn on your forearms. At first you thought you could take all the criticism and remarks, but lately you've admitted to yourself that you really can't take it. If you could, you wouldn't hurt yourself... would you...?

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to fall. However, you manage to hold them back as you pull yourself together.

Your hands come to rest over your ears, as if to cover them, as you shake your head from side to side.

"- Come on, Y/N! A good shower will do you the greatest good!"

Right away, you rush to the bathroom in your quarters. Tomorrow, another long day of work awaits you...

- - -

The next day, you wake up earlier than expected.

Sitting up on your bed, your hair disheveled and your eyes puffy with fatigue, you turn to your mirror installed above the chest of drawers to your right to look at your reflection.

Immediately, the first thing you see are your dark circles. Two big black bags under your eyes.

But how are you going to hide that!? You're supposed to work with Papa Emeritus this morning and afternoon today! If he sees that, he will not only ask questions, but in addition, maybe he won't take you seriously anymore!

Will he think you went to a party all night? Or that you spent the evening with someone? Satana, your reputation...

You hide your face behind your hands, desperate. How are you going to hide this..? You don't have any make-up on except for your Child of Sin role, but-

But of course!! Before being alongside Papa Emeritus II, you were close to your Brothers and Sisters of Sin and of course you wore the same makeup!

Without wasting time, you run into the bathroom and grab your clothes at the same time as your bath towel. You search the few drawers of your bathroom and you quickly find your old makeup.

Don't forget to thank Satan!

You sigh in relief, a slight reassured and satisfied smile appears on your face and finally, you decide to go shower.

- - -

As you woke up earlier this morning, you also arrived early at work.

Here you are : facing the door of Secundo's office. Timidly, you knock on the heavy wooden door to make your presence known.

Hearing the slight but hoarse growl of your Superior, you understand that he is also present and you enter.

Seeing you with your back to him as you close the door, Secundo tilts his head to the side as he speaks :

"- Already up, Y/N?

- Yes! I got up early so I thought joining you at work early as well might help you progress faster with all that paperwork given by Sister Empress.

- It's very kind. Take a sit then."

You obey immediately. As you turn around to go sit on the seat facing the desk and opposite Papa's, you notice that he hasn't taken his eyes off your silhouette.

As your gaze meets his, Secundo's eyes widen slightly while his eyebrows wrinkle in confusion.

"- You're still wearing makeup like this?

- I should not?

- Not that you shouldn't, but let's just say that you don't need it anymore, Y/N.

- W-well... I kinda miss my old uniform so why not put on make-up like before a few times?

- If it pleases you..."

You decide not to say another word.

Instead, you grab your work things stored in your satchel that you always carry with you and you start working on some files at Papa II.

Secundo didn't take his eyes off you for a second. His eyes scan your face for any problem.

Are you hiding something from him?

Mentally, the man tells himself not to look any further. He rolls his eyes before resuming the work he started this morning.

- - -

The morning passed at breakneck speed. Honestly, you thought it would have gone slower, but it went quick!

It's been a few minutes since you left Papa's office to join F/N to eat. You walk quietly through the corridors, passing a few Ghouls here and there, as well as a few Brothers and Sisters of Sin. Fortunately, these people leave you alone.

You sigh in relief but your sigh is cut off when you notice you've reached the cafeteria door. In there, you risk having less peace...

You open the large doors of the room and quickly, several pairs of eyes land on you. You swallow your saliva with difficulty as you meet a few dark looks.

In the distance, you notice a raised arm and you quickly recognize F/N. A smile forms on your lips and you quickly forget the indiscreet looks and words given by your other colleagues. You run to your friend and quickly sit down next to her.

Her reaction to seeing you closer to her and the same as Papa Emeritus' this morning. Her head tilts to the side as her eyebrows rise in surprise and confusion.

"- Y/N? Since when did you start wearing make-up again like before?

- Since this morning. And hopefully it will only be for this morning.

- What do you mean?"

You sigh, closing your eyes before looking around you. Seeing that no one is watching you, you come closer to your friend and whisper:

"- Last night I didn't sleep very well, which gave me huge dark circles. So I had to hide them. I didn't want Dad to see me with the face of the living dead.

- You know, I think he saw worse.

- Maybe, but I didn't want him to ask me questions about those awful black spots... Already this morning he asked me about this make-up. Of course, I don't blame him! But what I mean is, if he's just asking about makeup, imagine if he would have seen those dark circles...

- But if he's worried, that's nince. That means he likes you!"

At these words, because F/N was not whispering, some eyes turned to look at you again. You turned away from them, ignoring them before waving F/N to be quiet :

"- Please...! By the horns of Lucifer, speak less loudly...!

- Forgive me... But it's true..!

- Maybe, but precisely, if he worries and everyone is aware of his concern for me, it's the others who will take advantage of it to put me down even more...

- You know, Y/N. I still think you should report their behavior to Papa.

- Never..! Are you crazy?

- At least to Siter Imperator in this case.

- Nobody.

- But you can't stay like that... It's eating you inside when you don't talk about it, and don't tell me otherwise. I'm sure that if you slept badly, it's their fault."

You sigh in defeat, knowing that F/N is right.

Your friend places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Looking up at her, she offers you a smile and of course, you give her one in return.

"- Let's get our meal, shall we?"

You nod and go get your food tray together.

You can't wait for the evening. there you'll be able to catch up on this missed night...

- - -

After eating, you went back to work. The afternoon passed more slowly than the morning, but it was not tiring or unpleasant compared to the other days.

What made this afternoon long was Papa's piercing gaze that rested on you a few times, but especially on your exhausted face and your arms. All the way, you were tucking the sleeves of your shirt properly along your arms.

Well, whatever, your hours are up for today, and Papa Emeritus didn't ask more questions like this morning.

You put the last file you worked on on top of the pile you just made with Secundo and stretch out in your chair.

The man in front of you places his fountain pen in his pot of ink and sighs, satisfied to have finished his job for today.

"- I never thank you for the work you do for me, Y/N. But believe me that I am grateful for it.

- You don't have to thank me, Papa. It's completely normal for me to help."

Secundo nods, now staring at the few piles of filled files on his desk. A silence settles in, this silence is not that awkward. You join your hands together, resting them on your knees.

Papa II turns his head in your direction, yet without looking at you.

"- You know that I'm going on tour tomorrow, don't you?

- Yes, Papa.

- Won't the work be too hard to handle without someone else by your side?

- Everything will be alright. Also, Sister Imperator told me that I could ask Sister F/N if I needed anything.

- If Sister Imperator advises you, I suppose she knows what she's doing.

- Sister F/N is very serious in her work, don't worry, Papa. Your files will be in good hands."

Papa Emeritus II nods again before standing up. Seeing him leave his seat, you then do the same by grabbing your things to put them in your bag.

"- If something bad happened, would you tell me Y/N?"

You then straighten up towards Papa, staring with wide eyes. Stress is slowly coming but surely, making your heart beat faster and faster. You nod in haste, a little too much, as you try to reassure the second Papa :

"- O-of course, Papa!"

The man looks at you in the eyes, raising an eyebrow. However, he doesn't add a word and waves a hand lightly at you.

"- Fine. So go to bed. I don't know if we'll see each other tomorrow. But know that I'm not leaving for long."

You nod a second time, grab your bag and head for the door. Before leaving, you turn to Papa Emeritus II, who has his back to you. You bow slightly, citing a quick "goodbye" before leaving his office to go to your quarters.

- - -

And so, another day.

You wake up hard. The night was once again not very good. Like the day before, you look at your reflection in the mirror.

The dark circles are still present... However, you decide not to wear your makeup today. After all, it was just to hide them from Papa Emeritus.. he must have already left for his tour. You know he had to be up early, so the intimidating man must be gone by now.

The Sister Imperator should be easy to dodge if she asks you about those dark circles and F/N... F/N will only say that you should talk to the Superiors about your few concerns. She won't speak for you until you want her to.

You shrug your shoulders, opting for the option of not wearing makeup.

Like every morning, you get up, grab your uniform and go to the bathroom to get ready.

Once well prepared, you leave your quarters to go to work. A huge job awaits you for these few long days ahead as Secundo is no longer with you to work on his paperwork.

As you climb the stairs and pass the threshold of the door leading to the main hall at the entrance of the Abbey, you come face to face with the Ghouls and Papa Emeritus II.

Your blood boils when Papa turns to you and his piercing eyes widen.

However, he doesn't really show his shock at his Ghouls. He waits for them to come out in the yard to put their instruments on the bus before he's rushing quickly towards you.

"- Signore Satana... Y/N. What is that face?

- P-Papa..? Didn't you have to leave this morning?

- It's the case. Did you think I was leaving at six in the morning rather than eight? Avoid abuse, caro amico. Now tell me, why are you so pale? And those dark circles...

- I-it's nothing at all, Papa. Just some sleep issues.

- Have you spoken to Sister Imperator about it?

- No... She would give me time off and I don't want that. You have too much work, I have to help you...

- Al diavolo the work. There will always be someone in this Abbey to do it.

- But what will I do with my days?

- Take some rest? Isn't that logical?

- But-

- Fermare."

When that word is said in his coldest tone comes out of his mouth, you shut up, looking down, away from his intimidating look. In a barely audible whisper, you apologize to him. Of course he hears it.

Two Sisters of Sin accompanied by a Brother arrive in the hall. All three stare at you in disgust as soon as they notice your presence. Your gaze meets theirs and Secundo's eyes follow the direction yours are looking at.

Immediately, he sees the trio. The Brother of Sin whispers to the Sisters about your name :

"- Papa Secundo's puttana..."

You instantly lower your eyes to the floor again.

Only, you weren't expecting it, but Papa II heard the man's words. Quickly, Papa turns completely to the three individuals. With one hand, he grabbed the male's shoulder, scaring him and also the two Sisters.

He then lowers himself to the height of the Brother, his eyes never leaving his as he speaks in Italian:

"- Se mai ti sentiò dire di nuovo quella cosa, tu o anche chiunque altro in questa Abbazia, ti butterò al diavolo. Lì sarai corretto come dovrebbe essere, stronzo."

You only have a few notions in Italian, so you haven't completely understood the sentence. All you know is that it must have been a threat because Secundo seems to have scared the three people in front of him.

The small group took to their heels after apologizing to you and quickly disappeared from your field of vision.

Papa Emeritus has approached you again. You felt a hand land on your shoulder, which made you jump slightly, but you relaxed when you saw Papa II's gaze, this time not cold, but reassuring.

"- Now stop underestimating your Papa, Y/N. Those dark circles, that pale face, those scars on your arms. Is it all because of them?"

You dare not answer out loud, so all you do is nod. Secundo nods in return, finally understanding where those cuts on your forearms that he noticed while you were working on one of his files the day before come from.

He walks away from you when one of the Ghouls calls out to him, signaling that it's time to leave. However, before leaving the Abbey, the man turns to you one last time for today.

"- Don't hesitate to talk about it anymore, Y/N. Anyway, I think that after what happened, no one will dare to attack my right arm."

You're not sure, but you think you saw a smirk on the corner of his lips. Papa Emeritus II isn't really a guy to smile... Which would be really surprising if what you saw wasn't just your imagination!

You decide to forget what you saw or imagined. You run to the front door and bow, greeting Secundo respectfully and thanking him:

"- Thank you for everything, Papa! Have a good tour. We'll meet again soon!"

Without turning in your direction, Papa gives you a slight wave.

You don't see it, but Secundo actually smiles, satisfied to have been able to help you and reassure you. Contrary to other people might think, Papa II does not have "nothing to fuck" as that.

#ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus II #papa II #secundo #x reader #gender neutral #ghost x reader #papa emeritus

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chipped-chimera · 2 months

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I am ... Idk man. I'm pissed. I'm sad. I'm angry. So the Green Neon Tetras I got absolutely came down with ich and there was so much fucking conflicting information out there ... well it delayed me treating it. Heck I was trying to just be sure I was seeing what I was seeing at first.

Anyway I've lost 3. I think it might be 4 this morning. By tomorrow I suspect it'll be two more. If any manage to scrape through it'll be down to 4. If I'm lucky.

Everyone else (Corycats, Starlight Bristlenose) are fine. Though the Corycats show some signs of being itchy, nothing's become visible and they were on the tank the day I started treatment. Yeah I know, quarantine tank yadda yadda. But considering a 100ml bottle of medication costs 40 bucks and I need to use it for 14 days minimum at 4.5 mL a day - no way was I doing two tanks. It's likely I'm going to run out soon and money is tight since this decided to happen right around me replacing my HDD.

I cried when the first one died. Now I just feel ... numb. My mood has been awful, which isn't looking great for my very expensive rTMS treatment - I'm literally at halfway today. I should have seen results. Instead I'm bouncing between hating myself and angry at everything else because information is so diluted and despite researching this tank for over three months straight, trying so goddamn hard not to fuck up - I fucked up. I know I shouldn't blame myself, but a part of me deep down does. Because maybe I was too stupid to realise on such tiny fish the situation was only going to get worse faster. Then I'm angry I feel stupid because the information isn't clear, or that I feel stupid for crying over a fish because that's what normal people think. I hate how everything is really affordable but then medicines are so prohibitive it'd be more cost effective to let them all fucking die. I hate how people regard fish as objects, decorations for their goddamn bathroom or some kind of 'investment' for rarer varieties, swimming in sterile tanks like their a goddamn floating gold bar - not a life. A living, breathing, thinking little life. That I let down. So yeah I'll fucking cry because no one else will.

This tank was supposed to be a source of relief while I went through this intense treatment but now it's just a trigger for me ruminating over and over. I worry with the tetra population so depleted it's going to cause them more stress making them more likely to die. I'm scared to do water changes, though I need to keep doing them.

I'm angry this parasite is so common it's considered to be encountered by anyone new to the hobby within 6 months, because it takes no prisoners - any kind of fish can get it. I'm angry research only revealed the possibility of a vaccine a few years ago, despite fish being the most owned pet globally. I'm angry the reputable, best aquarium shop in my entire city had tetra carrying this and there's jack shit I can do. I don't know whether to tell them or not even bother. Given the entire shop runs on what I suspect are the same sumps, it's likely everything has the risk.

Maybe I'm just stupid and this is all my fault.

I'll keep trying. I'll buy another 40 dollar bottle and treat them for the 14 days and aone more week just in case. I put too much work into this to give up.

#kerytalk #ventposting #pet death tw #pet death #only saving sliver of hope for me right now is im being cleared for anxiety treatment with rTMS #so they'll flip the coil to the other side of my brain and start working on disrupting the neurons where my likely overactive anxiety is #hopefully it does something because after this ... idk man. it feels like the end of the road.#either get brain surgery or accept I'll always feel awful #part of me feels it wont work anyway because its the world that makes me feel this way #I'm this way because of what they did to me #to get better ... i feel the world would have to change. but every day it just seems to get worse #depression #sorry i just ... had to yell somewhere. im sick of holding all this pain so quietly by myself #yes i am seeing a psychologist but im literally on last resort before brain surgery here

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findingmypeace · 2 months

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One more thing. I will need to put a pause on seeing both my dietitian and therapist until I can get insurance figured out. I'm barely scraping by as it is and now I will need to pay for a deposit and rent. I'm guessing together that will equal $3000-$4000 aka almost an entire month's income. The only reason I am barely scraping by is because I'm paying out of pocket for therapy and my dietitian. If my dietitian wasn't giving me a discount on top of the sliding scale I would be paying $1,200/month on top of my rent. Together that's more than half my monthly income. That means if I want a roof over my head I will need to cut costs in every possible way I can.

Additionally, today I found out at work today that one of the leads with the floor staff does a lot of overtime since he gets paid hourly. This results in his monthly income being $2,000 more than me. I'm not saying I'm better than him and he deserves that income since he's working for it but that's not possible for me. I am salary. That means if I worked 60-70hrs in a week I would get the same income as I do at 40hrs a week. That's what was happening a year ago when we were so short staffed and I was doing the equivalent of 3 jobs and working 60-70hrs a week when I could barely walk without passing out. I got paid the same no matter how much I worked.

I was always told that being on salary is superior but actually hourly staff make more than I do with a master's degree, and license to practice therapy, and 14 years of experience. I get the feeling money will always be an issue in my life despite almost never buying a 'want' item. It's all bills. Always.

We have 'focal' point interviews at work, once a year, every summer. This is when they decide how much each of us will recieve for our annual raise. Obviously I have a horrible reputation with upper management but I will be going in fighting, with facts, no emotions, and including the pay for similar jobs. I will fight for it since I am DONE being taken advantage of in a workplace setting. I can't believe I was actually a CLINICAL SUPERVISOR (aka training pre-licensed therapists) for less then half of what I'm making now. And I'm making quadruple what I was making in private practice. And I'm still being taken advantage of at my current job. Wouldn't it be nice to be valued in the workplace? I don't think that will ever happen. And wouldn't it be nice if my parents thought I was doing the best I can instead of thinking I'm a irresponsible with money and deserved to be punished/taught a 'lesson'. Especially when they never taught me anything about finances. I feeling my way in the dark.

AHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Ugh, sorry this went a different direction than I meant. I'm just so angry tonight.

#personal #work #self-hatred #anger

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itsuki-minamy · 7 months

Text

"AYAKA – SIDE STORIES 07": RETURN

TRANSLATION: NARU-KUN

* List of Chapters

(1)

(Please give me a break.), Taihei Makita lamented.

He must have been a poor bento maker. Although he didn't make much money, he had a decent reputation and his proud bento burger had quite a loyal following.

Although he was skilled in handling part-time jobs, he did not dare to expand the scale of his business because he was picky about the taste he made with his own hands. He was completely satisfied with the feeling that people were happy with his work, as far as he could see.

How was that.

Due to a promise he had made to himself without his knowledge, he was forced to incur debts to people he had never met before and, just as he was making steady payments, he became trapped in a shady scheme to make money.

Although he had many relationships with the yakuza and the mafia, he still managed to move tactfully and before he knew it, he was considered a messenger and a fixer.

The following week, after he decided it wasn't good and gave up, he found himself shaking at the shooting range, where bullets flew and screams mingled.

He really wanted to be given a break.

He slipped away for a moment. However, much to his dismay, the person at the center of that case seemed to be none other than him. Unbeknownst to him (or, to be honest, he had a vague idea) someone related to that type of business was trying to punish Makita for organizing a large amount of weapons smuggling. Of course, he was not a professional lunch box maker, nor was he a police officer or lawyer.

To make it simpler...

He didn't want to say it, but...

They were murderers.

He really wanted to be given a break.

But to be honest, the reality is harsh and cynical. Then Makita ran away. He fought desperately.

Of course, professionals don't care about the efforts of amateurs.

"Ah, damn...!"

He measures more than 1.90 centimeters tall. The constant muscle training he performed while making bento boxes and the protein contained in the prototype gave him a seemingly "soft" physique. No matter how thick his muscles are, they are no match for pistol bullets. No, if he tries hard enough he might be able to get away with a 22 gauge or a 32 gauge, or even a 9mm Parabellum if he tries really hard, but that's not the problem.

He could die.

In a corner of a warehouse district in a deserted port where he doesn't even know the name of the place.

"What kind of B movie is this?"

Panting and sitting against the outside wall of the warehouse, Makita cursed his bad luck.

"Haa haa...", his own turbulent exhalation pressed against his earlobe. And beyond that, he could hear the sound of several shoe soles hitting the asphalt. For some reason, he could hear a voice disturbed by anger. He never dreamed that he would provoke so much hostility from someone.

If he doesn't run, they will kill him.

However, he no longer had the strength or energy to flee.

He never expected his life to end like this. No matter what he says, it sounds like a lie. He doesn't feel it. Well, he figured he might soon realize it, even if he didn't like it.

"Ah~ Damn. If this was the case, I should have eaten something more delicious."

After complaining, a sarcastic smile appeared on his thick lips.

The joy of eating for oneself does not come close to the joy of feeding others.

That's why he uses luxurious ingredients and puts in as much effort as he wants.

He wanted to feed all the hungry people. He wanted to see that face.

"...Ah. Now that I mention it..."

A delicious burger recipe that takes advantage of his signature hamburger steak.

He should have done it at least once. It would be a challenge in terms of cost, but it would have been worth a try. He wanted to give that to someone. He is so gluttonous that anyone would be surprised. As many as he wants to his heart's content. At that time, what kind of food would he show? He wondered how fun that would be to watch.

"Hey!"

"There is he!"

A pursuer with a gun appeared in front of Makita, who smiled deceivedly. Apparently that was the end.

One of the men in front raised his hand and pointed his gun at the motionless Makita. Perhaps it was a relief that there was still no sense of reality at that stage. Looking at the death that was soon to come, Makita managed to catch his breath.

But...

"Death" never came.

He can't understand what happened. What he discovered was that a heat wave suddenly hit the area. The pursuers screamed and fainted. Furthermore, for some reason, the scene, which had no true reality, suddenly began to seem real.

The understanding that this was not a dream or a joke, but a shoddy reality.

"What...?"

Just as he was mumbling in shock, a man entered the alley.

An elegant and dynamic silhouette. His steps are calm and firm.

"Taihei Makita?"

The man confirmed with a brusque gesture.

A young man. He is still a young man. He is an attractive young man who seems more like a host than an assassin on that battlefield.

However, he has the power and dynamic beauty of a wild carnivore.

After being fascinated by the young man for a while, Makita exhaled and inhaled.

"That's right."

He answered.

The young man nodded.

And...

"I came to find you as a messenger from "Kinari". I am Ibuki. If you want to get up, come with me."

(2)

"Hmm, I see. It's a shame, but I guess I'll skip it this time... No, there's no rush. There's a chance... Yes. That's right. Thank you for your hard work."

After speaking in a calm tone, Sanji Inou hung up the phone.

He let out a sigh.

The contact he received just before the scheduled time was about the Ayaka Island mascot character, which he had been working on. The project was to create characters called "Yuru-kyara" as part of Ichinoshima's tourism public relations, but the outsourcing company changed its attitude just before the contract was signed and the company ended up going bankrupt. It's not a common occurrence, but it's also not something to make a fuss about. He personally was disappointed, but as he said on the phone, there were no special problems.

However, he was a little worried about the reason for the outsourcing company's sudden change of attitude. The person who commissioned it was a contractor from the mainland, but he had apparently "seen" something when he visited the island.

What the other party "saw" on the island seems to be some kind of strange phenomenon. Inou couldn't laugh. In any case, he had many worries.

"Fortunately, nothing serious seemed to happen..."

Ayaka Island is different from the mainland. In the words of a former friend, it is a place "abundant with the blessings of life" on a level rare anywhere in the world.

However, the blessings of life do not only bring good things. The best example is the existence called Aramitama. The Mitama that emerge from the life line are originally harmless beings that are difficult for ordinary people to see. However, when the life force that constitutes the Mitama becomes cloudy and becomes Aramitama, it causes various damages. Unfortunately, on Ayaka Island, where life is rich and there are many Mitama, there are many opportunities for an Aramitama to appear.

In particular, Ichinoshima, which is in the process of being redeveloped as a tourist destination, has a high flow of people and goods. This is how many "bad things" arrive from outside the island. First, the liveliness of large numbers of people creates biases, both positive and negative. The active mud current produces thick turbidity even in a short period of time. Although most are bubbles that burst and disappear quickly, there are still quite a few that "hit" them.

Since ancient times, on Ayaka Island there have been people called "Myakutsugi" who use the power of life to calm the Aramitama. That hasn't changed, but... the recent number of Aramitama outbreaks has exceeded the amount that can be suppressed by the number of connectors that are decreasing year by year.

"I can't rely solely on Haruaki-kun, but..."

In the past, on Ayaka Island, there was a great master known as the "great hermit" and he was able to single-handedly pacify most of the Aramitama on the island. He was a close friend that Inou will never forget. After his death, his number one disciple, Kurama Haruaki, took charge of the Kaizumi Shrine and worked hard to harmonize the life cycle of Ayaka Island. He is humbled by his dedication.

However, the increasing appearance of Aramitamas will end up disturbing the harmony of the island. No, it is not a question of "someday", it is an urgent question. There just aren't enough hands. And the rise of Aramitamas is likely to accelerate from now on.

However, the development of Ichinoshima could not be delayed. Finally it is a revival. It hurts, because of the tragedy.

"It's been five years..."

A considerable amount of time has passed since that day when his friend died.

It's still too early to seal it in the past.

However, it is too long to let himself be bound by the regrets of those days. That kind of indulgence cannot be tolerated.

They must face the future. Overcome difficulties.

"I'm worried about the Aramitamas, though. Jingi-kun is a bit more... Oh, no. This is also "bad". What are you telling a fifteen-year-old boy?"

He slapped his forehead.

Think about measures to develop the island while avoiding its bankruptcy. Isn't that what the mayor is there for?

"For the moment, it may have been a good thing that "Yuru-kyara" failed. We need to take action before the island gets a bad reputation. Now, what should we do?"

Leaning his body against the back of the chair, Inou closed his eyes and frowned.

And...

His phone vibrated again. Inou opened one eye and looked at the display on the screen. There is an incoming call. However, it is from a number he does not recognize. He had doubts about it, but he didn't find it suspicious. He is still the mayor. Sometimes, he may suddenly receive a call from someone he doesn't know. Inou answered the call and asked, "Hello...".

"It's been a long time, Inou-san."

At that moment, his breath caught in his throat.

Inou quickly stood up and shouted into his cell phone.

"Aka-kun!"

+++++++++++

His steps were heavy.

Both Ibuki and Kurama were shocked with wounds all over their bodies.

Still, neither of them offered help and they simply continued walking.

Although the eruption had already subsided, the ground near the crater was still hot and slowly burning the atmosphere. One night since then. The surrounding area bears the scars of a fierce battle. A large excavated hill with cracks running through the ground. Even now, the spirit of life is turbulent like a storm.

However, the sense of urgency from the night before was gone. It may seem terrible, but all that has already been done.

The two were walking.

They searched as they walked.

Both of them were already out of breath. Before he could recover, he visited Shinoshima. Holding on to a little bit of hope. He hoped maybe...

And... he understood it.

Ibuki raised his head, which had been somewhat downcast, and smiled reflectively. An awkward smile, something like "no way". Thus, he began to run as if he attracted him.

Kurama noticed the same, and although he was not sure, he still ran with unsteady steps.

Where were the two going...

The sanctuary that had been erected on the edge of the crater was completely destroyed.

But to the side, there was a figure sitting with his back leaning on the sacred spear inserted into the ground.

"Master!"

The relief that seeped involuntarily belonged to Ibuki.

As expected. There was an emotion on his face that convinced him. On second thought, that couldn't be true. There is no way he would have died. After all, it was Yanagi. He was very worried, but all those fears were unfounded. He was fine. He was really good. Ibuki said that to himself from the bottom of his heart.

But...

Kurama noticed it first. The smile that had appeared on his face froze and his gaze fell to the ground, as if he had given up.

"Master?"

Ibuki muttered.

Yanagi laughed.

But he didn't move.

Ibuki's voice should have reached him, but he didn't show the slightest reaction.

His strength was gone. Ibuki knelt down and put his hands on the ground. His toes trembled as he grabbed it, scraping the floor with his toes.

Thoughts and emotions swirled in his head. As he spun, he lost his sense of balance.

"Shit. Damn!"

A thick feeling of passion twisted deep in his stomach. Kurama next to him said nothing and lowered his head.

In front of them, Yanagi died with a smile.

Ibuki raised his head and looked at the sky sadly.

(3)

"I see. It's been five years since then... five years, huh."

As the sun shined softly and the wind blew, Ibuki didn't murmur to anyone else.

His gaze was sharp and clear as he looked at the tombstone in front of him.

His calm voice and demeanor were like nothing he had ever had before. He grew and his body became bigger. It's not that he has grown unnecessarily, but you can tell that he is full of youthful vitality. Furthermore, the thin dark suit that covered his body greatly altered Inou's impression of him.

He became an adult.

Inou's heart warmed at the boy's growth.

The two are in a cemetery on a hill in Ninoshima. In front of the tomb where Makoto Yanagi, Inou's friend and Ibuki's mentor, is buried. His grave, beloved by islanders, still bears flowers even five years after his death. Offerings include sake, which he loved, and fruits grown on the island.

Inou himself used to visit the tomb whenever he had free time.

However, this is the first time he meets Ibuki. Shortly after Yanagi's death, Ibuki left the island.

And today he finally returned.

"...It seems that leaving the island was the right decision."

"Eh?"

"I have changed my mind. You have become more admirable."

Inou said that to Ibuki, still smiling. He thought it was an old-fashioned phrase, but it didn't bother him. It means he's at the right age to have that kind of conversation. Ibuki and him too.

Ibuki, on the other hand, smiled wryly for some reason. Maybe it was just his imagination, but his reaction was like enduring pain. It was a wry smile mixed with self-mockery, as if he had been exposed to some harsh irony.

"...Inou-san. As always, you are a talker."

"Huh? What? I honestly wanted to praise you, you know?"

"So, no, it's fine. At least, I think it was the right answer."

He laughed as he said that. It was a strangely dark smile, different from the bitter smile before. Inou stiffened a little, but the hint of a smile quickly disappeared.

He had a similar reaction before he got there. On the way, he asked him a question about where he had been and what he had been doing for the last five years.

Ibuki's response was: "A family member took care of me." That was also written in the few letters he sent him after leaving the island.

However, in the past, Ibuki was supposed to have become Yanagi's apprentice because he had no relatives to trust. So what does it mean that a family member cares for him? However, when Inou asked Ibuki a question, he refused to give a detailed explanation, even if he didn't say so explicitly. Inou also believes that pursuing the matter now is a bad idea. Although Ibuki has become an adult, he is still a young man of twenty. That's what he should be worried about.

First of all, Inou seemed to be nervous about meeting him again after so long.

And it must be the same for Ibuki. It's been five years since he left the island without telling anyone.

It was natural to feel uncomfortable. There was no need to forcefully deny that feeling of distance.

Inou warned himself that he should not rush.

Ibuki has returned. All he has to do is befriend him again, who is right in front of him. He shouldn't rush, just take it slow.

"So... Aka-kun? This return home is not temporary and you will live on Ayaka Island again, right?"

"...Ah. I came back with that intention."

"Great! Does Momoko-san already know?"

"No."

"In that case, show your face after this. I'm sure she'll be very excited. I can't help but think about it."

Inou himself said that with the desire to have fun.

Then, Ibuki smiled again. The smile has a different nuance than before, an exquisite mix of cynicism and naivety.

"...I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Eh?"

"Thank you for contacting me without telling anyone."

Of course he knew who Ibuki meant by "nobody". Normally, that's the person Ibuki should contact first.

Haruaki Kurama, Ibuki's brother.

"You still can't forgive him?"

Ibuki doesn't answer Inou's question. However, the gloomy expression that suddenly appeared on his face said it all. "I see." Inou murmured briefly.

The reason Ibuki left the island was Yanagi's death. And there, he and his brother Kurama, are closely involved. Of course, it wasn't Kurama's fault, and Ibuki should have understood that, at least in his heart. Still, there seems to be an inevitable dispute between the two.

So...

"Hmm. I know she'll probably get angry later, but I guess I'll just say hello to Momoko-san another time. It's a bit painful to ask her to stay quiet."

Momoko Amamiya, the former owner's granddaughter, is like family to Ibuki. And the same goes for Kurama. If everything is not going to be as before, he will not bother her with secret compulsions.

"Honestly, that would be helpful. I made the right decision by contacting Inou-san first."

"Haha, you're embarrassing me. But I'm going to stop for today, okay? Momoko-san and Jingi-kun will be very happy if they find out you're home."

"...Now that you mention it, what about Jingi? I guess he's gotten a little better."

"He is mischievous and has perfected himself."

"I see."

Ibuki laughed. Yanagi's third disciple, Jingi Sagawa, is currently 15 years old. His unrestrained behavior was one of the headaches Inou had, but at that moment, he was grateful to him.

In fact, there is another family member that he wants to return to the island.

However, he still lived in a facility on the mainland. That is the result of following Yanagi's will.

Will they ever be able to laugh together again in the same place? Wait so. That's why he must do the best he can.

"...Well. From what I see, it seems like you don't intend to cause trouble for Momoko-san like you used to. So where are you going to live?"

"I'm thinking about Ichinoshima."

"Okay, then I'll help you find a good property. The rest is work. I won't skimp on helping you, but now that you're an adult, you can't afford to do nothing. Is there any hope? If you need it, I can prepare you for a job in the government office..."

When Inou spoke, Ibuki's expression suddenly became serious.

"About that... I have a request and a query, Inou-san. It's about business."

"Oh, you came here on business. This is making me nervous."

"Don't make fun of it. It's a serious matter. We are already making preparations and have no intention of going back to the drawing board now. However, if possible, I would like to obtain your permission, Inou-san, and if we can collaborate formally, it would be ideal. I want you to ignore your personal feelings towards me and consider this as a job."

"I don't care about that, but what exactly is your job?"

"It's decided. It's a connector."

After saying that casually, Ibuki looked at Inou with a strong gaze.

"The Aramitamas in Ichinoshima. They're increasing quite a bit, right?"

He opened his eyes involuntarily. He remembered when he received the call from Ibuki. At that moment, Inou was worried about that very issue.

"By any chance, are you the one fighting the Aramitamas? But you..."

"Although I have been away from the island for five years, I have continued to improve my skills. Especially when it comes to handling the Aramitama. It is different than before. I will show you."

"But..."

"The life cycle of the island is in trouble. It is due to the influence of the fire dragon in Shinoshima. My master has suppressed it, but has not sealed it completely. However, the current Ichinoshima is an area that is especially under renovation. That area has the perfect conditions for Aramitamas to be born. That may not be a problem on the continent, but it is not the case here."

Ibuki stated flatly, but Inou couldn't respond.

In fact, if that is Ninoshima or even Ichinoshima and it is not a tourist area... at least for now, there is no particular problem. For the people of Ayaka Island, the Aramitamas are a threat, but not a source of despair. They have been "accustomed" to its existence since childhood.

Even if an Aramitama appeared, the islanders would not see it as a particular problem as long as it was dealt with correctly.

But...

"It's fine if you are a resident of an island, but if a tourist from another place is attacked by an Aramitama... it would be a big problem if it were widely publicized on the mainland. That situation should be avoided at all costs. Isn't it?"

Ibuki spoke calmly, but there was a strong light in his eyes. His enthusiasm is palpable.

However, he wondered if it was Inou's imagination that he felt a kind of unpleasant attachment to his enthusiasm.

"...You know this too, right? Even people who can't see the Mitama can see the Aramitama, but the memories of the Aramitama fade quickly over time. Especially people outside who haven't been familiar with this kind of thing since ancient times, like the people of this island."

"So they don't have to find out? Even if someone from outside the island gets into an accident, do you think it won't be a problem as long as the cause is unknown?"

"No, that's..."

"If Ichinoshima becomes a tourist destination, interest in Ayaka Island will increase even more. Even if we try to hide information, there is no way things will remain as they are."

That was something Inou was worried about, but had turned a blind eye to.

Ayaka Island is different from the mainland. In other words, it is a mysterious island. Until now, it had not attracted much attention as a secret area known only to those who knew.

But from now on, that won't be the case. And in a sense, it is inevitable.

"We live in a time where the world is so information-based that individuals can communicate to the world what they see and hear. It is of no use if we are the only ones who reject it. I don't think you can hide things about the Aramitama or the line of life. And it's not just us. There are places around the world where the power of life is strong."

Exchange with people outside the island cannot be restricted. That's not limited to the redevelopment of Ichinoshima. It is a much larger trend: the flow of the times.

The mysteries will eventually be analyzed digitally. Rather than secret activities closely linked to everyday life, they are directed towards a systematic rationality that has been scientifically clarified.

Just when...

"Everything else doesn't matter. What I'm talking about is this topic."

After saying that, Ibuki straightened up, as if he was trying to clear things up once again.

"We must understand the "importance" of eliminating the damage caused by the Aramitama in the tourist area of Ichinoshima."

"Of course... that's not something I could expect, but..."

"Then let me do it. I will."

Ibuki declared as he looked directly at Inou. The expression on his face showed his determination not to give an inch.

Inou exhaled and opened his eyes again.

"I understand. In any case, it is true that we do not have enough pulse connectors. If you, Yanagi's disciple, could lend me your strength, I would simply appreciate it. Of course, assuming you can deal with the Aramitama, right?"

"I told you, right? I'll properly "prove" that point to you."

Ibuki smiled fearlessly and extended his right hand. Inou shrugged and shook his hand.

"Does that mean the deal is done?"

"Ah. That's right. Thank you very much."

"Good. So... right now, there are some matters I would like to clarify legally. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Yes?"

+++++++++++

The big, muscular man was shrinking, looking regretful. At the moment, he seems to be aware of the "insane" situation that lies ahead of him. However, what appeared on his face was a careless business smile, as if he had apologized too much and opened up again. Although he is aware of that, he probably doesn't want to take it personally.

Ibuki's business partner, who called himself Makita, said to Inou, who was speechless.

"Bullets are different from real bullets, right? I don't know much about that yet either... Is this a Myakutsugi technique or something? It seems like some kind of hidden manipulation has been done to it... at least its lethality should be pretty low... hahaha!"

Makita smiled, as if he was disappointed. Honestly, Inou also felt like laughing. Seeing the countless firearms lined up in the warehouse made him feel like he couldn't help but laugh. Well, it wasn't funny at all.

Instead...

"I see."

Inou murmured and nodded.

Then he grumbled in his heart, mixing 80% sadness and 20% joy.

In fact, Aka-kun was his disciple.

In the back of his memory, Yanagi was laughing and trying to trick him.

(4)

"...It seems like something is going to go wrong, right?"

Ibuki laughed and snorted at Makita's grim line.

"That's what this business meeting is about. Why do you seem so upset?"

"I went from being a courier to being an arms dealer. I am very dissatisfied."

"Hey, be careful with your words, Makita. This is just a "curse" tool. At least for now."

Saying that, Ibuki looked at the gun in his pocket. He watched with amusement as Makita hurriedly looked around him.

A bar in Ichinoshima. Makita looked bitterly at his new business partner, a younger man who was only twenty years old, who was sitting at a table in the back.

He let out a sigh and sat in the seat across from him.

"Who is that mayor? Although he is a familiar face, he is too flexible."

"Inou-san is used to it. After all, my old master and him were friends since they were young. From what I can see, he is in a lot of trouble. In many ways."

"He seems sincere."

"I guarantee he's honest, okay?"

"Then I think we'll get along well. And I sympathize with you."

After letting out a deep sigh once again, Makita ordered a whiskey from the waiter at the counter. Ibuki narrowed his eyes as he shook the rocks glass and rolled the ice cubes inside.

He's unusually talkative, but he seems a little drunk. However, thanks to that, he seems to be in good spirits. It was unusual for Ibuki to be in such a good mood, since he usually had a gloomy appearance. Although his eyes are as sharp as ever, there is no fear in his eyes.

Furthermore, the relaxed expression on his face corresponds to Ibuki's true age, since he is only twenty years old. Makita couldn't help but think that now he should be able to carry a gun.

The young man in front of him, Aka Ibuki, is Makita's lifeguard. It was easy to understand and saved him from a desperate situation. However, that did not mean that he rescued him from that situation for free. In fact, it seems that Ibuki was more interested in Makita's firearms sales route than in him. It is said that his current master, not his former master, recommended Makita as someone who would meet Ibuki's needs.

That master was a person named "Kinari Rika".

Speaking of "Kinari", it is the name of a "shredder" who is one of the most dangerous people Makita knows, and who he only occasionally whispers about. It's like an urban legend of the underworld, but still, when mentioning that name, the higher up people were, the more they paid attention to their surroundings.

"However, the teacher-student relationship has already dissolved."

These were the words Ibuki said to him, as if he didn't care, when Makita persistently searched for various explanations.

Of course, Makita himself doesn't know Kinari. Apparently, he was nominated based solely on the information that "there is a person who fits Ibuki's wish". In short, he was selected as a business partner because he was a "trustworthy and knowledgeable person in firearms distribution". More of an urban legend. He can't help but think that something is wrong in the world. Makita would like to say many things, but he was aware that it was completely true to say that his main job was to be a lunch box maker.

However, the story did not end with just a firearms transaction.

A lot of things happened after that, but Ibuki seems to have taken a liking to Makita and considered him a business partner instead of just a temporary partner.

However, he was actually a useful "subordinate".

"I just need a little help."

That's the phrase he used when he requested staff, which didn't convey any sense of sincerity or enthusiasm.

However, Makita accepted Ibuki's invitation.

He was grateful because he saved his life and, most importantly, he had no choice. He agreed to that with the intention of jumping off the stage of Shimizu and destiny. However, he never expected to be taken to such a remote island.

To make matters worse, that island has also changed drastically. Ichinoshima, where he is now, looks decent at first glance, but only in some areas that are undergoing redevelopment. When he saw an Aramitama for the first time, he couldn't help but think that it was some kind of photo shoot. He heard that there were people on other islands and that a volcano had erupted five years ago. No, he's sure it's not just the firewood field that makes him think that.

However, the reason Makita teamed up with Ibuki was probably because he was different in the first place. The "Myakutsugi" techniques that that slender, host-looking young man showed him shattered and expanded Makita's common sense. He made him realize, much to his chagrin, that something really is wrong in the world. That's why he managed to adapt to the various things that come with Ayaka Island.

"I wonder if anyone will congratulate me?"

Ibuki responded to the words he blurted out: "Hmm?" Makita shook her head and said it was nothing.

The clerk brought the whiskey. Makita took it, and after the employee walked far enough away, he asked Ibuki, "So?"

"What happened to the "bullet"? Is that convenient?"

"Ah. I was worried when I heard that someone had replaced him, but fortunately the next owner also seems to have solid skills. To be honest, the situation in Ichinoshima is worse than expected. We will need more people soon, but if that is the case, we can take care not only of the bullets, but also of the adjustment of the gun itself."

Ibuki said that as if he had left a coat for him to try on, as if he had sent it to the dry cleaners. Makita frowned as he took a sip of whiskey.

"It's surprising that even on such a rural island there are people who know how to adjust weapons."

"I only adjust it as a "cursing tool"."

"I am regretting the mentality of being trusted with a weapon as if it were a "cursed tool" and I simply accept it without hesitation."

"Well, I've been working with that store since my former master was there."

"You said "former master" again. I feel like that's the culprit behind everything."

"Not everything. At most 80%."

To Ibuki, who was acting calm, Makita said, "That's enough.".

Now that he thinks about it, he has come a long way from having a good bento shop. Both in distance and position. Where will his life go from now on?

No, he has decided where he is headed for now.

It's starting a business.

"Are people likely to gather?"

"For now, I'll go while you're here."

"...I'm telling you, I won't be there."

"You learned how to use a gun, right?"

"Does that mean you can fight monsters?"

"I can fight. That's why I took an extra risk and chose a weapon as my magic tool. Even ordinary people who are not related to that can fight against the Aramitamas and exterminate them on their own."

When he answered that, Ibuki returned to his usual self, showing a dark and cold presence. His true nature is unmistakable even when he is drunk. He could see the hatred towards the Aramitama.

It seems that Ibuki's previous master lost his life fighting a dragon.

That past remains the driving force that drives Ibuki. The new business he's about to start is probably part of Ibuki's revenge. Makita gets caught up in Ibuki's revenge.

However, even so, the one who decided to get involved was Makita himself.

Either a demon or a snake will appear... the annoying thing about this island is that there is a real chance of both appearing. Rather, it is a flow in which a dragon appears at the end. "Oh, my God." Makita said with a Whiskey. He couldn't do it without drinking alcohol.

"...By the way, have you decided on a name?"

"Yes, "Ayaka Security"."

"You came here to work as a security officer. I think your job will probably be as an exorcist or peacekeeper."

"I will take charge of the security of Ayaka Island. Isn't that appropriate?"

Seeing Ibuki's lips curve into a smile, Makita tilted his head.

It is clear that Ibuki's interest is not in the safety of the island, but in eliminating the Aramitama.

However, if his "work" ends up benefiting the people of this island and the people who visit it, then...

There had to be a meaning in that.

Makita raised the glass from him.

"For the future of our business."

Ibuki raised his glass in response.

He gently pressed the rim of the glass.

"For the success of "Ayaka Security"."

+++++++++++

Ichinoshima is the most populated of the Ayaka Islands. Although the influx of people increased due to the redevelopment, the number of residents was large because the island was large and had the most active interaction with the mainland. Currently, the main area is an area that is undergoing redevelopment, but many islanders also live in the surrounding area.

In a corner of that ancient cityscape that reminded him of Ninoshima, there was an old antique shop that seemed to have existed for a hundred years.

The name of the building was "Kumogaido".

Local residents recognize it more as a second-hand tool shop than an antique dealer, and its skills in repairing and restoring broken tools are most valued.

On the other hand, it is an unusual store and many customers come from the mainland just to see it.

A man dressed in Japanese clothing was standing in front of the store.

"Hello, Kumoi-kun. I'm sorry to bother you."

"Huh? Kurama-sensei!"

"I already told you to stop, right?"

Kurama Haruaki smiled calmly as he spoke to the shopkeeper at the back of the store. The merchant stood up from his desk in a panic and then quickly covered the desk with a cloth. Kurama felt a little uncomfortable with that gesture, but he pretended not to notice.

The shop owner, who had a deceptively friendly smile on his face, said that his name was Kyouji Kumoi. He is a lanky young man in his 20s, wearing glasses and a jumpsuit that doesn't match the atmosphere of the store.

There's something about him that makes him seem unreliable, but there are actually quite a few parts of him that are unreliable, but... his abilities are reliable. After all, "Kumogaido" is a long-established shop that only those in the know know it as a magic tool. Kurama's master, Yanagi, was also a close friend of the previous owner and often entrusted him with his own magical tools.

His successor, Kumoi, was the one who decided to take over the store at just 20 years old.

"How is the store? Have you gotten used to it?"

"Well, yes... I usually have free time and my daily routine is to deal with the old men and women who come to make fun of me. I just play with magic tools every day."

"So training every day."

"That's not the case... I have no other abilities... I don't have any talent for manipulating magic tools, but I have nothing else to do anyway..."

He humiliated himself as he looked away.

The magical tools Kumoi wields are clearly on a different level in Kurama's eyes, and his skill is unmistakable. However, for some reason, he is the only one who stubbornly refuses to acknowledge his own abilities. "I have no talent." was his favorite phrase.

However, the previous owner was Kumoi's mentor.

"When you get drunk on that, your mind gets bigger, and you still think you're a genius, right? It's a fact, so if the quality is bad, you won't remember the slightest thing when you wake up. It's already interesting, so I'll let you do whatever you want."

That's what they told him. Kurama hid a bitter smile towards the young magic tool craftsman who had a strangely low self-esteem.

"Well, I had some business to do today, so I stopped by to stretch my legs. What about the token I asked for now?"

"I have everything ready. Do you want to check it now?"

"Everything already? As expected, you work quickly."

"Well, it's a simple task that anyone can do."

It must be a meaningless line, but for some reason it seems outdated, which is Kumoi's fault. Kurama continued with a smile on his face, "No way.".

"If anyone could do Kumoi-kun's job, magic tool craftsmen across the country would go bankrupt."

"Even if you compare me to the little ones out there... oh, no? I don't know what someone like me would say about the rest!"

"I know. Anyway, I appreciate your help."

"Ah, but the barrier is still... Sorry. I had an unexpected job to do."

"Of course it doesn't matter. Originally that was something I was forced to ask for."

Kurama responded to the invitation, but his expression darkened slightly as he continued to say, "It's just...".

"Please continue with the preparations. It seems I will need it sooner than I thought."

"Is it Ichinoshima?"

"Yes."

Ayaka Island is a place blessed with rich life. As a side effect of that, Aramitamas often occur. That's why pulse connectors like Kurama exist.

However, recently, Aramitama's appearance has been steadily increasing. The cause is not well understood. The Shinoshima fire dragon that Yanagi suppressed is slowly regaining its power and freedom. As a result of that, the life cycle was interrupted and the redevelopment of Ichinoshima combined with that, creating the soil in which Aramitama could easily be born.

On the other hand, the number of connectors decreases year after year. During Yanagi's lifetime, he had subdued most of the Aramitama, so there was no particular problem, but in a sense, Yanagi's presence was a sign of the lineage of connectors on Ayaka Island, which was already in place decline and had become even more depleted. Today, there are only a few people left on the island who can pacify the Aramitama.

As Yanagi's disciple, Kurama has the duty to protect the island. However, Kurama basically can't leave Sannoshima, where Kaizumi Shrine is located, and he can't stop monitoring and sealing the fire dragon in Shinnoshima, which is the root cause. There were limits to how well they could deal with the growing number of Aramitamas.

"I have to try harder... but it's not worth it."

"Kurama-sensei, you're doing your best, right? It's thanks to Kurama-sensei that the island is at peace even after Yanagi-sensei is gone."

"That's so..."

When he was about to deny it, Kurama remembered Kumoi's attitude in front of him, laughed and shook his head.

He can't say anything about Kumoi if he is too condescending. Perhaps his predecessor is the standard for a magic tool craftsman. If that's the case, his low self-esteem is somewhat understandable.

When you meet great predecessors, you can't help but compare them with your immature self. However, complaining doesn't help. They have no choice but to act where they can.

"A magical barrier tool. Thank you for your help, Kumoi-kun."

"I understand, sir."

Kurama finds Kumoi trustworthy and nods firmly.

He's only twenty years old.

Now that he thought about it, he must be twenty now. If only he were there right now... next to him...

He wondered how reliable it would be.

"Anyway, I'll bring you the spell you asked for."

"Hmm? Oh, yes."

Kumoi seems to have misunderstood something when Kurama answered him and let out a low laugh.

"Well, it won't be that bad, Sensei. Your worries about Ichinoshima might disappear sooner than you think."

"Oh, why?"

"Huh? Oh, ah... well, I guess you could say it's just a hunch... I wonder if something like that will happen."

By suddenly turning his face away from him and letting his gaze wander around him, Kumoi clearly tricked him. Seeing the shop owner's drawn mouth, Kurama once again remembered the discomfort he felt before.

Kurama's eyes fell on the work desk that Kumoi had covered with a cloth. He hid it in a hurry when he visited, which means there must be something he doesn't want him to see. It is against etiquette to inquire about the work of an artisan. However, at that moment, something similar to intuition passed through Kurama.

Unconsciously, his hand reached out to the desk and lifted the cloth. "Hey!" Kumoi exclaimed in surprise, but the moment he saw "it" hidden under the cloth, the craftsman's protest went unnoticed by Kurama.

On the work table there were several disassembled pieces of iron. However, even in his disassembled state, he was able to understand what it was about.

It's a weapon.

A black, opaque and shiny pistol in maintenance. However, it was not the weapon itself that stole Kurama's consciousness, but rather the remains of the pulse grafting technique he had placed on it.

It belongs to Yanagi.

No, not exactly. Although it belongs to Yanagi, it was not created by the master himself. Someone else had introduced a technique based on the same principle into a weapon. A person from the same school.

Of course, it's not Kurama. Furthermore, it cannot be the work of his youngest disciple, Jingi Sagawa, who is still in high school.

In other words...

"Aka...?"

Facing Kurama, who was muttering in shock, Kumoi crouched down silently without responding.

(5)

"Why did you run away?"

Kurama's face stiffened at Ibuki's question.

Five days after his master sacrificed himself, the two faced each other head on. Facing Ibuki, who was showing his anger, the brother stiffened, but did not collapse.

Kurama answered slowly without taking his eyes off Ibuki.

"It was my master's instructions."

"Don't say that!"

If he loosened the reins even a little, it seemed like he would attack him. Ibuki breathed deeply as passion radiated throughout his body.

"You should have known that the master was going to die, right? And yet! You!"

His entire body felt hot and his vision became blurry.

He couldn't forgive him.

Shouldn't the brothers have been encouraged to take the initiative and fight together? If so, how happy would he has been? Was it something he would be proud of? Together with Kurama, whom he adored as his older brother, he would do everything possible for his master. If he could have done that then, he would not have regretted it even if he had lost his life as a result. In fact, he would have proudly told his deceased parents that he survived to that very moment.

But that didn't happen.

And now he feels miserable.

He can't forgive him.

Ibuki's entire body was pleading as he cried. Although he survived by sacrificing Yanagi alone, he could no longer accept that situation. He couldn't help but face his irrationality.

But...

"Aka..."

Kurama didn't move. There was an expression of determination on his face, like that of a monk in training, carrying a heavy load on his back as he embarked on a faraway journey.

"The fire dragon is alive and well. There is someone who must protect the island. That's why the master taught us..."

"Shut up! If we had stayed, the master might not have died?!"

Ibuki yelled at him as if he wanted to knock him down, but Kurama said:

"No."

He responded calmly.

Kurama's face distorted slightly.

At the same time, a bandage peeked out from under his disheveled neck. It is a bandage that covers Kurama's back. The same scar is also etched on his shoulder.

Wounds received from the fire dragon. That is the injury Kurama received while he was protecting Ibuki. If it was true, it was proof of his own failure.

If Kurama hadn't protected Ibuki back then, he might have died.

And if Kurama hadn't been injured at that moment...

Did the brother just follow the master's instructions?

Would the master have given the same instructions as him back then?

"......!"

Heat and anger swirled and sparked in the back of his mind. Ibuki let go of the hand he was holding and looked away, gritting his teeth.

The focus of his simmering anger shifted from Kurama to himself.

The master's judgment. That's definitely true. In the end, what Ibuki cannot forgive must be his own weakness in allowing his master to make such a decision.

A little time for the master. He was immature and couldn't even prepare for it.

In the end, that burning shame was the result of Ibuki Aka's ineptitude.

"Aka...?"

Kurama spoke softly to his younger brother, who remained silent, exposing his face and shaking his shoulders.

His typical, loving voice. That consideration passed through Ibuki's entire body.

"I..."

Ibuki seemed to be cutting back.

He killed the heart and carve the words.

"I... will get stronger."

"Aka..."

Kurama's voice softened. It was as if he had finally convinced himself that his younger brother had the same determination as him.

"Ah. It's not just you. Me too. Master bought us some time, but the fire dragon has not harmonized yet. The same thing will happen again in a few years. By then, we must acquire the ability to quell the dragon of fire. That's why we..."

Kurama appealed sincerely, with a somewhat painful tone, but firm and focused on the future. Even now that he has lost his master, he still needs to move on. To put everything in harmony.

But...

"Calm him down?"

Ibuki's voice in response was extremely cold.

Ibuki looked at Kurama. Kurama couldn't help but gasp at the dark look in his eyes.

"Then... you should do that. I... I'm sorry."

Ibuki's response contained more disconnection than words. Instead of pushing him away, Ibuki turned his back on Kurama, as if he cut everything off.

Ibuki turned his back on Kurama and started walking. Kurama extended his hand towards his back, but...

His right hand, which he had raised slightly, hung weakly.

Ibuki began to walk with Kurama on his back.

He no longer looked back.

+++++++++++

The finished weapon was satisfactory.

"Just because you like it, are you going to order them all? It's a ridiculous amount, right?"

"It is an expense."

"Don't you think that's a magic word? Expense doesn't mean free, right?"

"Is different?"

"You...?!"

The old town of Ichinoshima. In front of the rows of firearms lined up in an old warehouse, Ibuki and Makita communicated about their progress.

Leaving Makita in agony, Ibuki stared at the gun and bullets that had returned from "Kumogaido".

He was a little worried because his attitude at the time of the delivery was suspicious, but it seems that his fears were unfounded. To be honest, it's more than he expected. The piece of iron that fit in his hand clearly had "power". That's what Ibuki seeks as top priority. No matter what Makita says, he had no intention of letting him go. He returned to Ayaka Island for "power".

"It's essential equipment for business. Of course, it will cost money."

"It's just a matter of degree. Although there is no one to use it... I mean, if the number increases, labor costs will increase..."

"It's true that getting staff is an urgent matter. However, as long as you have this, it becomes a "job" even if you are not a connector. It is not difficult."

"I'm talking about what happens after you hire them."

After complaining, Makita let out a heavy sigh. Ibuki's mouth went slack.

It's a real inconvenience that he nags a lot, but Makita was an encouragement. They believed they would eventually need someone to support the organization's operations at the administrative level, but expected it would be difficult to hire immediately due to the skills and personality required. It was a happy miscalculation that was decided very easily.

He especially liked the fact that he has a scar on his arm. Although their personalities and character were completely different, Ibuki felt a strange sympathy for Makita, whom he could call "a dog from the same hole". He was very grateful to have met him and intended to make the most of it.

Also, if you think about it, it would have been convenient for Ibuki to replace ''Kumogaido''. Yanagi's previous partner, who had a long relationship with him, would not have been able to cooperate with what Ibuki was trying to do now. At that point, Kumoi, the new owner of the shop, basically has no interest in anything but the magic tool itself. It's not that he doesn't have a good work ethic, but when you compare it to his interest in magical tools, he's the type that easily leans towards the latter. Even in response to Ibuki's request, which was considered a gray area for a traditional connector, he displayed his abilities with almost no resistance.

Of course, Inou's efforts as well. He had been counting on that to some extent from the beginning, but the fact that the conversation was progressing at a rapid pace was proof that he was worried about the deteriorating situation in Ichinoshima. And... for Ibuki personally, the increase in the number of Aramitama cases, which are not good on the island of Ichinoshima, was a desirable thing.

The flow was coming.

Although the progress was faster than expected, there was no way they could ignore that trend.

"We also need to arrange a location. It doesn't look good that the base of the organization responsible for the city's security is a warehouse in the middle of nowhere."

"I think the problem is that the organization in charge of the city's security has a large number of firearms."

"It's a damn tool."

"Yes, yes."

He assumed that he had gotten used to it and Makita didn't touch the matter further. Alright. Everything was going well.

"Ayaka Security" will become a mechanism that will bring even more "power" to Ibuki. Not even his aunt, who opposed the plan when he found out, could have imagined it.

And... after gaining enough "power", he will start over. This time he will achieve victory. He will take revenge on that dragon that he stole from his master.

Until then he has no intention of stopping.

"Eh?"

He received a call.

Ibuki took out his cell phone and checked the person on the other end of the line. It's Inou. He clicked immediately.

As soon as he started the call...

"Oh, Aka-kun? Now."

"Is it out yet?"

"Ah! That's right. It's an Aramitama. I contacted other connectors just to be sure, but I haven't contacted Haruaki-kun yet. However, it seems to be a big problem for me."

"There's no need."

Ibuki stated that clearly and stood up, smiling as if he showed his fangs.

"I'll go. Find a place. Okay. I'll finish it right away."

+++++++++++

Upon seeing it, just as Inou feared, the Aramitama was "a pretty big fish".

Ichinoshima Redevelopment Area. At the corner of the alley, he was kneeling.

As if he noticed Ibuki approaching from behind, he straightened up and turned around. His eyes widened and he looked at Ibuki with an unpleasant expression on his face.

A beast-like figure with fur-covered limbs. That is the effect of the object that was used as a substitute. Probably a dead stray dog or cat. Under his feet were several crumpled plastic buckets. Apparently they were rummaging through the trash for scraps of food. The figure that glided and turned towards him was taller than Ibuki.

The fact that his stagnant life is leaking out is proof that he has recently become an Aramitama. However, the amount that was leaked was considerable. If someone from outside the island couldn't tolerate it, simply being exposed to it could cause them to faint.

A monster that would have been a big problem if he had appeared on dry land, and even earned his own nickname.

But today, in Ichinoshima, you can relax and scavenge in the back alleys. It was exactly the vibe Ibuki was looking for.

"It's perfect for a test shot."

Yes, the moment Ibuki smiled, the Aramitama kicked the asphalt and jumped without making any preliminary moves.

A giant body flew through the air and attacked Ibuki. Ibuki took a step back. At the same time, he took out the pistol that he had just received from "Kumogaido" with his right hand.

Shooting.

At that distance and with that size, it is more difficult to remove. The fired bullet fell on the Aramitama. At the same time, the technique contained in the bullet opened and tore the Aramitama's body.

The Aramitama let out a silent scream. A happy smile appeared on Ibuki's lips.

"It's good. Very good."

Second shot. Third shot. Ibuki pulled the trigger in quick succession. A gunshot was heard and a gunshot flashed. The Aramitama twitched after being shot. Fourth shot. Fifth shot. His forearm was shattered and his life force scattered.

It was a great job.

The bullets he is currently using are not bullets that he has prepared to use with anything other than Ibuki's special pulse gun, but rather they are specially made bullets that he himself has applied his own techniques to depending on the situation. Furthermore, Ibuki relentlessly amasses life force and fires it.

However, the gun in his hand was strictly controlled by the "power" Ibuki had put into it. As expected, Kumoi's ability seemed to be reliable. It is strong enough and has enough lethal power to be used as Ibuki's main weapon in normal times.

"This guy needs additional compensation. Kumoi is suitable for the "Kumogaido" sign."

Ibuki continued shooting in a good mood. It was one-sided.

Eventually, the Aramitama lost most of his body and was unable to move, crawling across the street and convulsing.

He now appears to be on the verge of death. However, even if it is in that state, if he leave it alone, it will recover and cause damage again. The threat of the Aramitama will continue to exist unless it is dispelled through the pulse graft technique.

However, Ibuki took his finger off the trigger.

"...Without damaging the core."

He followed his master's words and murmured them softly.

Laughing, Ibuki slowly approached the motionless Aramitama.

His legs stopped.

All expressions disappeared from Ibuki's face. With an icy look on his face, Ibuki slowly turned his body and looked back.

When Ibuki turned, the air shook and spun into a small vortex. In the blink of an eye, the vortex grew larger and turned into a whirlwind, as a figure floated from above.

He land in the back alley. Then the hem of his robe fluttered.

A familiar face appeared. He is Ibuki's fateful partner, someone he can never forget, no matter how hard he tries.

"Aka..."

Ibuki looked at Kurama, who was muttering in shock, with a cold gaze.

(6)

It was his first meeting in five years. Although his impression had changed drastically, he still recognized him at first glance.

Ibuki Aka. A younger disciple who grew up with Yanagi. And the boy who left Kurama with the death of his master. In front of him, he turned and looked at him silently.

Nostalgia for the past welled up in his chest. Days spent in the same place. The conversations they had countless times. Warm memories of happy times.

However, before his thoughts could be expressed, they were interrupted by another thought.

Caution.

"Haruaki..."

Ibuki blurted out Kurama's name.

It was the first time he heard his brother's voice in five years. However, he still felt more cautious than joyful.

Ibuki's voice was harsh and emotionless. But that didn't mean he didn't have emotions.

The rough and harsh response in his voice was like magma that had cooled and solidified. It is simply the old passion changing form.

Eventually...

A sharp grimace, like a razor cutting through skin, passed Ibuki's lips.

"I didn't expect to find you at a time like this. I should have guessed when Kumoi's behavior was strange."

"No, Aka. Admittedly, Kumoi-kun hasn't spoken."

"Then why are you here... ah?"

Ibuki lifted his chin and looked up.

"Huh? Looks like you were too excited. I can't believe you overlooked it."

His somewhat self-deprecating words were proof that he had seen through Kurama's "jutsu". He tried to use a hidden way, even if it was simple, but it didn't seem to work on Ibuki.

Kurama wordlessly raised his right hand, palm facing up. Then, across the night sky between the buildings, a small white shadow flew through the air like a bird and descended. It looks like origami or a paper airplane, but it is a magical tool called a doll made of cut-out pieces of paper. Kurama was flying that and exploring the surrounding area.

"...It's a technique my master often used."

The sound of Ibuki's voice as he murmured those words seemed to have a hint of thick emotion melting away. Kurama's caution grew minute by minute.

In fact, ever since he saw the weapon in "Kumogaido", he felt that wariness like an invisible thorn. Why is Ibuki's technique on Ayaka Island? Also, does that apply to "weapons"? He questioned Kumoi on the spot, but, although he felt humbled, he did not answer Kurama's questions. Needless to say, the owner of "Kumagaido" would never reveal information about the client. Not even Kurama could make him do it.

First of all, the fact that there is evidence of Ibuki but no information about him has reached him is proof that he is acting secretly, at least without him realizing it. It was the same as when he disappeared without telling him five years ago.

Then Kurama changed his policy and used the pulse graft technique to release multiple dolls in Ichinoshima.

To find Ibuki.

He didn't even know if he wanted to find it or not.

But he found him.

So what should he tell him?

"...Aka. Since when have you been on the island?"

"...I think it was about ten days ago."

"Where have you been so far?"

"On the continent, with a relative."

"Then why didn't you contact me?"

It was different. Even before he asked that question, there was something he wanted to say.

He was glad to see him.

He was worried and waiting for a long time.

The breakup five years ago was painful. That's why he wants to do it again. Once again, as a disciple of Yanagi. Like a family living under one roof. Kurama's true feelings, without lies.

But...

Suspicion that sprouts like thorns and continues to swell does not allow for an easy attitude. The sight that was still visible was setting off Kurama's alarm.

Ibuki laughed.

"You're still as indirect as ever."

Saying that, Ibuki ostentatiously displayed the weapon he was holding in his right hand.

"Quickly, ask me. What happened to that weapon? What about the Aramitama behind you? Why did you leave it there unfinished?"

A dark smile appeared on Ibuki's face. A smile full of venom. And yet, the way he looked at Kurama was like cold steel.

Kurama's expression distorted.

Of course, there was no way he could turn a blind eye. However, Kurama straightened up as he faced the truth.

As a result of being hesitant and condescending to the other person's circumstances, they failed to communicate, misunderstood each other, rebelled against each other, and lost five years of time. He does not intend to repeat the same mistake.

"...Then let me ask you. Aka. What are you doing here?"

"You know that, right? I'm defeating the Aramitama."

"It's a job for the connectors who live on this island."

"It will be different from now on. As far as Ichinoshima is concerned, I will be in charge."

After coldly telling him that, Ibuki shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm telling you, I have permission from the mayor."

"Inou-san? I see. I guess you ran into Inou-san."

"Don't hold a grudge against him, okay? I asked him to keep quiet."

"I guess so."

The rise of Aramitama and the lack of connectors in Ichinoshima have long been a headache for Inou. If Yanagi's disciples were willing to help, it wouldn't be surprising if he welcomed them with open arms.

On the other hand, Inou knew Yanagi's "family" very well. The reason he accepted Ibuki's silence was probably because he considered it "still too early".

It was still too early for him to meet Kurama.

However, it seems that that concern was in vain.

"Aka. Now I know that you have the power to defeat the Aramitama. That in itself makes me happy. I'm sure our master would be proud too."

"I hope so..."

"But what is the method? Why do you make the Aramitama suffer unnecessarily while using the master's technique? If it is a technique to pacify the Aramitama, then you must be familiar with the master's method."

The alley in which the two meet is filled with the life force that escapes from the Aramitama. There were no signs that he had been purified. Only traces of devastation remain. If that continues, it will not be possible to return the life force to the life line. It is poor quality work that disrupts the harmony of life.

Furthermore, the core of the Aramitama, the eyeball, is still there. If that happens, the Aramitama will eventually come back to life and deal even more damage than before. As a connector job, it was a complete failure.

However... Ibuki "overwhelmed" the Aramitama.

In other words, it should not be a result of immaturity. Ibuki "dared" to choose that method.

"Why?"

Kurama and Ibuki... Ibuki, in particular, always paid attention to his master's purification ritual. He must have seen in detail the method of doing it, Yanagi's style. He perhaps had learned the etiquette of ignoring the Aramitama even better than Kurama.

But why? He cannot understand Ibuki's intentions. He can't imagine what is thinking his younger brother. That was not the case in the past. But now...

"Because that's how I do it."

Ibuki replied arrogantly. When the brother answered that, he seemed even more distant than the actual distance between the two.

"I will exterminate the Aramitama. Quicker, more definitively. So that they never come out again."

"Exterminate? The Aramitamas do not cause a plague. If you look at it from a different perspective, it is also part of the life cycle. What is needed is proper treatment..."

"It is a difference of opinion. It is precisely because of such naive ideas that Ayaka Island is causing the rise of Aramitamas."

"Even if you eliminate the Aramitama, you won't be able to prevent new Aramitamas from forming."

It is significant to suppress the appearance of an Aramitama.

However, once an Aramitama occurs, it must be suppressed and returned to the life line. Simply removing it will only make the resulting bias even greater. As a result, the harmony of the entire life cycle will be disturbed.

Of course Ibuki should know that.

"Aka. You're wrong."

Kurama flatly denied it. It is not in his best interest to overlook Ibuki's mistakes. Based on that belief, Kurama appealed to Ibuki.

But...

"No. At least, this is fine with me."

Ibuki responded unperturbed. He reflexively rebelled against his irreverent words.

"Do you disobey our master's teachings?"

"Makoto Yanagi is dead."

Ibuki's response made Kurama's chest go cold. Then, before distrusting Ibuki, he was filled with fierce anger.

No matter who else had said it, Kurama would have accepted those words as mere fact. The five years had given Kurama the strength to do so.

However, the words that came out of Ibuki's mouth broke Kurama's composure like it was paper.

"Aka! Are you trying to say that he lost his life because the master was wrong?"

"I won't say that. However, the master was also "naive". Isn't that true?"

Saying that, Ibuki looked at Kurama provocatively. A dangerous light began to flicker deep in his eyes. It is a faint flame that has not changed for five years.

"For example, if the master had annihilated all the Aramitamas, the fire dragon's power might have been weakened as a result. If he had tried seriously without worrying about harmony, he might have reduced the fire dragon's power. And... If he had simply "exhausted" us properly, perhaps the master would not have died."

The moment he spoke the last word, the pressure seeping out of Ibuki jumped.

After all, he is there.

Kurama was able to get over Yanagi's death in five years, but apparently Ibuki couldn't. No, he rejected it himself. Make Yanagi's death a thing of the past and let him sleep in your memories.

"Stop it, Aka. Master would never want you to be trapped in the past."

"You are as smart as ever, Haruaki. But I am different from you. I will not let go of the anger and misery I felt back then. This is my core."

The atmosphere between the two became tense.

A tingling sensation ran over his skin, as if the atmosphere was electrically charged.

However... Kurama was the first to retreat.

Kurama took a deep breath and slowly relaxed his entire body.

It's not like he's been waiting for something like that for five years. He doesn't think he's wrong, and he doesn't think Ibuki is right, but at least the current situation is "different".

Well, he should start over. Be persistent, again and again.

Kurama took care of his own life.

Ibuki mocked his brother.

"I guess you're going to take a step back after all. You're the same as before."

"...Aka. What about Momoko-san? And also Jingi."

"There's no reason to hide it anymore. I'll go see them tomorrow."

"I see. Then let's talk again."

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time for that. I seem to be busy."

When Ibuki said that, he turned his back on him as if the conversation was over.

And...

"For starters, it's not over yet."

Why? The moment Ibuki murmured that, his skin felt cold. Ignoring Kurama's shiver, Ibuki returned her weapon to his holster and approached the remains of the Aramitama's core, which was convulsing on the road.

Facing Kurama's gaze, he casually picked it up.

"Aka?"

For some reason, the voice that called him was a little hoarse. He didn't even know why.

For a moment, Ibuki's back felt unsteady.

However, Ibuki overcame his hesitation and raised the Aramitama's eyeball.

It crushed.

The core was crushed and the roiling life force poured out. And Ibuki, as expected, opened his mouth wide and grabbed the vitality of him. As if he were devouring a fruit, he sucked, chewed and swallowed the core of the Aramitama. Each time, Ibuki's back shook violently, but he didn't stop.

Kurama's mind was completely blank.

He had glassy eyes, tight lips, and stiff limbs.

He couldn't believe the sight in front of him.

"Aka... Aka! What are you doing?!"

Ibuki didn't respond. He continued to eat silently and, after absorbing the core completely, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

He looked back. The moment he saw his face, his hair stood out. He had a devilish expression on his face, different from before.

"What? It's training. It's to gain power."

"Don't be silly! You... what are you doing? What were you thinking when you put the Aramitama core into your body?!"

He was so angry and upset that he couldn't speak.

"Spit it out right now! No, no, I'll just clean it up from the inside!"

"Hey, calm down. It doesn't seem like it, right?"

"Freeze!"

Kurama shouted and made a hand seal.

Ibuki laughed again. It was a smile of joy that seemed to split his lips.

"Ah. You finally looked at me properly. You've always been running away from me, running away towards "harmony". In that case, I'll be with you a little longer."

After saying that, Ibuki brought his right hand together and raised his fist in front of his face.

He breathed and sang.

"Shimeisho Zan!"

He opened his closed fist and placed his palm on the ground. With a bang, cracks appeared in a radial pattern on the asphalt beneath Ibuki's feet.

"A warrior is a warrior. War is anger. Victory is given and people behave arrogantly. The height of evil!"

A wave of life ran through Ibuki's entire body. It is not an unusual amount. It is not of real quality either. His entire body was trembling, especially his right hand, which he held on the ground, was trembling violently. Ibuki grabbed his right wrist with his left hand to restrain it.

A violent right hand. Five fingers extended like claws.

There was a cut on the instep. His skin was torn and something slimy white appeared inside the flesh and his pupils twisted into black circles.

An eyeball.

It is the core of the Aramitama.

In front of a horrified Kurama, Ibuki's right arm enlarged and the sleeves of his jacket and shirt were torn. Red-black streaks, like cracks, appeared and crawled all over his body like snakes.

"Aka... you...?"

In front of him was his younger brother who had completely changed.

The skin on his right arm had swollen abnormally, turning an earthy color, and red-black veins were twisting on it. His hands were thick and enlarged, and his fingers had thick and sharp nails. On the back of his hands, there were eyes that looked around him unsteadily, as if he had a different will.

Red-black veins ran down his face, giving the appearance of blood. And his eyes had changed shape. He has blade-shaped pupils that extend sharply vertically, resembling the core of an Aramitama.

"Are you absorbing the power of the Aramitama? What...?!"

Ibuki's vitality mixed with the Aramitama's vitality. A figure that should not exist as a connector. It's a taboo.

"Have you tried any evil tricks? You... idiot!"

However, the voice that insulted his younger brother sounded like a scream. Ibuki was arrogant, but somehow smiled back.

"Well, I admit I'm stupid, but that's okay. It's always the stupid ones who open the door."

In response, Ibuki slowly waved his right arm at him. The resulting impact turned into a gust of wind that blew towards Kurama. "Shit!" His entire body was pushed forward, giving in to the pressure and being pushed away.

"What do you think? This is the "power" I obtained. With this "power", I will avenge my master. I will exterminate that fire dragon!"

"Idiot!"

Kurama denied it. However, Ibuki realized that he was serious. It's just a connection from the past. After all, Ibuki is still living the "continuation" of that night five years ago. The result of the mistake five years ago is bearing fruit there. Kurama was very aware of that.

At that moment, just before Ibuki left the island, when the two clashed, Kurama must have stopped him by force. Without making him say yes or no. Or maybe he should have followed Ibuki right after he left the island. Not waiting for him to come back.

A feeling of bitterness overwhelmed Kurama.

But now is not the time to repent. Evil laws undermine the user. If that continues, the Aramitama will swallow Ibuki. If that happens, there is no turning back.

"Man, earth and sky!"

Kurama exclaimed, tying the seal.

"Nothing is called the beginning of heaven and earth, and existence is the name of all things."

"It's warm!"

A technique to purify Aramitama. However, before Kurama could use his technique, Ibuki kicked the asphalt and approached him. He raised his now giant right arm. Kurama immediately changed his technique. He created a wind, ride the wind and escape into the air.

But...

"That's why it's warm!"

Ibuki jumped and raised his right fist. He quickly wrapped himself in the wind and blocked it, but the impact sent Kurama flying backwards and crashing into the wall of the building.

He couldn't breathe because the pain ran through his entire body. Still, Kurama didn't let go of the technique from him.

"Existence is named the mother of all things!"

Manipulating the life force that the wind created, he created a technique to purify the Aramitama again and threw it at the transformed Ibuki. Ibuki immediately received the technique on his right arm. However, when a dust of light wrapped around his arm, he stepped back and shook it, saying, "Damn it!".

It was working. So that was fine. As Kurama fell from the wall of the building to the street, he continued to weave techniques in rapid succession, with the intention of dispelling Ibuki's Aramitama.

Of course, Ibuki wouldn't allow it either.

"Don't fuck with me!"

He ran forward and raised his fist. However, this time, Kurama prioritized purification more than defense, keeping his eyes on the blow that could be fatal.

Ibuki also felt his determination to die.

Instantly, Ibuki's movements slowed down.

And...

"Man, earth and sky! Nothingness is called the beginning of heaven and earth, and existence is called the mother of all things!"

He used the technique again.

Immediately after, Ibuki attacked with a right hand that knocked Kurama sideways.

He flew away. His vision became hazy and shock rebounded through his body. Kurama was thrown helplessly onto the asphalt.

On the other hand, Ibuki received the technique correctly and was still chasing him.

The movement stopped.

Ibuki's gaze focused on the scar on Kurama's back that peeked out slightly behind his neck.

"Guh!"

Did he feel relaxed? Ibuki's face distorted due to the effect of Kurama's technique that had been applied to his entire body just before, and he staggered back. "Damn it.", he cursed as his eyes, which had popped onto the back of his right hand, slowly closed their eyelids.

"Haaa! Haaa!"

Ibuki's change was revealed. He was losing blood and had sweat all over his body.

"Aka..."

Kurama, who was lying on the road, forced his body to stand up. He immediately felt a sharp pain, but he gritted his teeth and sat up. Ibuki, on the other hand, staggered and leaned against the wall of the building, still breathing heavily.

Kurama has done a lot of damage, but Ibuki seems to have reached his limit. However, the vitality within his body, although still disturbed, had regained a minimum level of stability. The moment he thought that was a good thing, the strength that was barely holding him up gave up. Kurama sat on the road, unable to move anymore.

After a brief but intense encounter, only Ibuki's breath resonated in the alley. The two clashed seriously and remained silent for a while, saying nothing.

And...

"Aka... are you planning to repeat that action?"

Ibuki did not immediately respond to Kurama's bitter question. After repeatedly gasping for breath, he forced himself to catch his breath and climbed out of the wall of the building he was leaning on.

"I'm going to follow my own path... Don't get in my way, Haruaki."

Ibuki responded without looking at Kurama and slowly took a step forward. He turned his back on Kurama and walked away with unsteady steps. Just like five years ago, he never looked back.

At that moment, Kurama tried to approach Ibuki as he was leaving, but in the end he couldn't do anything.

Even now, he didn't have the strength to stop Ibuki from leaving.

Just when...

"I refuse, Aka. I will definitely stop you."

He told him clearly.

Ibuki stopped for a moment and immediately started walking again, without turning around. Kurama continued to stare at Ibuki until the end as he disappeared into the alley.

+++++++++++

"Hey, did you get robbed or something? How did that happen to you?"

When Ibuki returned to the warehouse, Makita's wide-eyed reaction finally reminded him that he was wearing a torn suit. He clicked his tongue. But right now, he didn't even have the energy to get irritated. He walked over to an empty chair and sat down.

Immediately, his entire body felt like molten lead fatigue. It was no joke, the entire chair looked like it was going to explode into pieces. Ibuki moaned as he corrected himself once more.

His thinking became a little clearer.

However, the only thing that came to mind was the mistake he had just made.

"Shit."

He couldn't win.

Although he used evil methods, he still could not subdue his brother.

He doesn't believe he lacked strength. Probably what was missing was determination. On the other hand, it is because of the sweetness that still remains within him.

Without realizing it, a hand approached his shoulder.

He grabbed his shoulder and dug his nails into it. Anger and remorse roared deep in his stomach like a hungry wolf.

"...Give me some alcohol."

"Hey. You drank it all."

"Then it will be food."

"You ate all that too."

"Then go buy it. Immediately."

"Huh? Just... wait a minute."

Makita raised his eyebrows at his domineering partner, but when he saw Ibuki's expression, he let out a sigh and stood up. Then, as if he remembered something, he rummaged through the plastic bag that rested on the lid of the wooden box next to him.

"Look. I found this. For now, eat something sweet and calm down."

After saying that, he handed it to Ibuki.

Ibuki reflexively took it and confirmed it.

His face looked like he was crying and laughing.

Complex and extremely bitter. His expression was mixed with anger.

"What? It's quite delicious. It's a potato."

Ibuki stared at the potato he received while Makita looked suspicious.

Throw it away, he whispered to himself. But he could not. A memory that felt like a surprise attack entangled the exhausted Ibuki.

Makita finally started to worry and asked, "Hey, are you okay?" Ibuki didn't respond.

It was something incontestable.

Biting his back teeth with a broken expression, Ibuki continued to look at the past in his hands.

#ayaka #sagawa jingi #kurama haruaki #ibuki aka #yanagi yukito #inou sanji #makoto yanagi #makita taihei #amamiya momoko

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