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aquariaries · 5 months

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Kou Mukami 08 - Chaos Lineage

***I do not mind if you use my translations as a base for another language, I just ask that you credit both 46snowfox as the original translator and myself as the English translator if you do!***

Original translation credit: @46snowfox

https://46snowfox.tumblr.com/post/617475223016669184/01-02-03-04-05-06-07-08

You can find Kou's previous chapters in @tournesolia's masterlist linked down below!

https://tournesolia.tumblr.com/

————————————

Yui's Monologue:

In order to avoid fighting Yuma-kun, we decided to have him capture us quitely.

Upon arriving at the mansion, Reiji-san and the others looked at us in surprise, although I can't blame them for doing so.

After Yuma-kun explained the situation to him, Reiji-san's expression showed disbelief, but he quickly regained his composure and ordered the three of us to be locked up in the dungeon.

Then, Reiji-san and the others held a meeting to prepare a strategy. Yuma-kun said that he was not good at such matters and said that he would take care of watching over us instead.

————————————

PLACE: Scarlet Dungeon

Kou: Haah ... ... It's like we're back to being confined in prison cell yet again.

Azusa: ... ... Somehow it reminds me of the past ... ...

Kou: ... ... It does.

Yui: (That's right ... ... When Kou-kun and the others were little, they lived in an orphanage that was almost like a prison ... ...)

(Being in a place like this must make them remember many things.)

Kou: It was damp, dark and you couldn't see the sky. It would be nice if prisons didn't exist.

Yuma: Well said. I hate those kinds of places too.

Kou: ... ... You hate them too Yuma-kun?

Yuma: More or less. I don't know why, but they make my chest feel uneasy.

Yui: Eh ... ... ?

Yui: (Just maybe, this could be the trigger to awaken Yuma-kun's memories!)

Kou: Hey you two, maybe it's possible that Yuma-kun too ... ...

Yui: Yeah ... ... If we get a chance, we could possibly trigger his memories to return.

Azusa: I don't want to talk too much about the past but ... ... if it can make Yuma-kun come back like that, then ... ...

Kou: Hey Yuma-kun! Don't you have any old memories of living in a place like this before?

Yuma: Hah? What's with that all of a sudden?

Azusa: From a long time ago ... ... back from when you were still little ... ...

Ruki, Kou, you and me, the four of us ... ... Lived at an orphanage ... ...

Kou: Although that place was called an orphanage, it was actually Hell. And that's where we all met.

Hey, you haven't forgotten, right? We escaped from the orphanage following Ruki-kun's plan.

The blue sky we saw at that time, you remember it too, don't you!?

Yuma: Blue sky ... ... ? The hell are you talking about?

For starters, I don't remember living at an orphanage, and I don't understand when you say we're brothers.

My only brothers are Reiji and the others.

Kou: ... ... You're wrong. Yuma-kun, you really are ... ...

My brother ... ...

Yui: (I really thought we had a chance, but looks like it's no good after all.)

*Door opens, Kino walks in*

Kino: Good job, Yuma.

Yuma: Oh, Kino. Is the meeting over?

Yui: (Kino-kun?)

(Now that I think about it, I've heard his name several times since I came to this place, but this is the first time I've met him ... ...)

(He seems to be a vampire as well, is he an acquaintance of one of the guys?)

Kino: We're done talking for now.

Yuma: And? What will we do now?

Kino: We leave Eve chained in the dungeon, and execute the other two.

Yui: ... ... Eh?

Execute them, why ... ... ?!

Kino: Wow, were even you listening to me? We would like to keep them as prisoners, but our enemy is Carla after all.

He would be fine with abandoning his younger brothers you know? He would say something like “They no longer have any use".

Yui: It can't be ... ...

Kino: With that said, I'll come back when the day we're to execute them is decided. I already informed you, so see ya.

Yuma: ... ... Yeah.

*Kino leaves*

Execution, huh? That's a disgusting method ... ...

Yui: (It's all my fault. All because I carelessly let Yuma-kun capture us ... ...)

I'm sorry! If only I ... ... If only I hadn't said that he could take me ... ...

I'm really sorry…!

Kou: You haven't done anything wrong. If anything, you gave us a chance to talk to Yuma-kun.

If you hadn't acted, then we might never have gotten the chance to try and convince Yuma-kun without it turning into a fight.

In fact, if we had let this chance pass, we'd probably never get Yuma-kun back and it would be hopeless.

Azusa: That's right. Thanks to you Eve, we had an opportunity ... ...

Besides, it doesn't look like they're going to execute us right away ... ... There still must be something else we can do ... ...

Yui: You guys ... ...

(That's right. I suggested this, so I can't sink into despair now. We have to think of something!)

Thank you. I'm sorry I got upset.

We will escape before the execution. And there is only one way to get that possibility.

Azusa: It's Yuma-kun, isn't it? If his memories return, he will surely let us out of here ... ...

Yui: Yes. We failed when we tried with Subaru-kun however--

There is no doubt that a strong shock is the key to triggering the recovery of his memories.

Kou: So we need Yuma-kun to receive some sort of strong shock. But he didn't falter one bit when we told him about the past ... ...

The only thing that remains is to attack from this direction

Yui: Eh? Did you come up with something?

Kou: Fufu, pretty much. You two, lend me your ears?

*Time passes*

Kou: ... ... M-neko-chan, Azusa-kun. Are you ready?

Yui: Y-yes ... ...

Azusa: I'm ready too ... ...

Kou: Then here we go!

*He comes close and messes with Yui's clothes*

Kou: Hey, get rid of those annoying clothes!

Yui: N-no, stop!

Yuma: ... ... Ah? What is it?

Kou: It's obvious that I want to have a good memory before being executed, right? Now, hand over and give me all your blood!

Yui: Kyaa, please, don't do anything cruel to me!

Kou: Hey, M-neko-chan, you have to pretend to be more upset!

Yui: S-sorry ... ...

Azusa: I-It's terrible. S-suddenly Kou went rampant.

If you don't hurry up and get him out of there Eve will be killed.

Yuma: ... ... Hah?

Yui: (Uu ... ... He's giving us a cold look.)

Kou: I knew that this alone wouldn't be enough. I'm going to bite you a little bit, alright?

Yui: Eh? Kyaa ... ... Ah ... ...

(He's sucking sweetly from my neck ... ...)

(I wonder if he's being considerate of me? He's gently sticking his fangs into me …)

... ... N, nn ... ...

Kou: ... ... Haah ... ... Delicious. I'll drink until not a single drop is left.

Yui: Yes ... ... If it's Kou-kun then--

I-I mean! St ... ... Stop it!

Yuma: Look you guys. Spare your shoddy performances, and just be quiet.

Azusa: Ah ... ...

Yui: (W-we've been busted ... ...?! I guess it was no good after all ... ...)

Kou-kun, this won't fool him. We have to think of another plan ... ...

Kou: ... ... Hey, M-neko-chan.

Yui: Kou-kun?

Kou: Your blood is sweeter than usual ... ... I think I might have gotten drunk off it ... ... Nn ... *kiss* ... ...

Yui: Nnn?! W-what happened to you so suddenly?!

Kou: It smells very sweet ... ... Hey, why is it even sweeter than usual?

Yui: Kyaa!

*He corners Yui*

(He has me cornered, I can't move ... ... !)

Kou: Could it be that you got excited from being caught by the enemy?

Or are you happy that everyone sees you? What a bad girl you are, M-neko-chan.

Yui: Y-you're wrong--

Kou: I have to punish that naughty M-neko-chan ... Nn ... *kisses*

Yui: Nn ... ...

(What ... … He just kissed me ... ... ?! In front of everyone too ... ...)

Kou: Hey, everyone's looking you know? Is it okay for you to make that kind of face?

Yui: Ah ... ... No, Kou-kun ... ... !

Kou: No way, I won't let you run away. Since I sucked from your neck before, now ... ... I'll do it from your chest.

*He messes with her clothes*

Hey, you'll feel the sharp pain of fangs in the area I'm touching. Are you scared? Or could it be that you want it?

Yui: Th-that's ... ...

Kou: The idea of leaving my marks on such beautiful skin is irresistible to me ... ... Nnnn ... ... Nn ... ...

Yui: No ... ... Aah ... ...

(What happened to Kou-kun ... ... ?! Did he really get drunk off of my blood?)

(Uwah ... ... His fangs ... ... feel good ... ...)

Kou: It feels good, doesn't it? How naughty. Now it'll be from this side of your neck ... ... Nn ... ... Nnnn ... ...

Yui: Aah ... ...

Kou: Ah ... ... It's so delicious that I can't stop ... ... Can I continue until I kill you ... ... ?

Yui: (Ah ... ... I'm starting to get dizzy. I can't think of anything ... ...)

*Yuma opens the cell*

Yuma: Hey, cut it out!

Kou: Uwah!

Yuma: Are you seriously planning on sucking her to death?! The hell are you thinking?!

Kou: ... ... You finally opened the cell door huh?

Yuma: Hah?

Kou: Azusa-kun!

Azusa: Ah– Y-yes ... ... !

*Azusa grabs and pins Yuma down*

Yuma: Wha ... ... Whoa?!

Yui: (I-in an instant he managed to pin Yuma-kun to the ground!?)

Kou: Capture complete ♪ Yuma-kun sure is kind.

You not only opened the door, but you entered too. I'm sorry I worried you.

Yui: Eh? Uhm, Kou-kun. Was just before that ... ...

Kou: It was an act of course. Since something half-assed wouldn't fool Yuma-kun.

Azusa: I really thought you lost your mind Kou ... ...

Kou: It was a realistic performance, wasn't it?

Yuma: Damn it, you tricked me!?

Kou: Even if it's you, if Azusa-kun and I both hold you down, you won't be able to move.

We've had numerous sibling fights, and we have learned how to face you, Yuma-kun.

Yui: (Geez, I was truely nervous. So he really was acting ... ...)

Selection:

—————��——————

-> I didn't notice ♙♡

Yui: I didn't notice at all ... ...

(By relaxing myself I started to get a little dizzy ... ...)

Kou: Are you alright?! I thought I was holding back, did I suck too much?

Yui: I-I'm fine. Although it may not seem like it, you didn't suck too much ... ...

(If anything ... ... Being cornered by a seductive Kou-kun is what has been the worst for my heart ... ...)

————————————

-> You could have told me ♟

Yui: I didn't notice at all. You could have told me ... ...

Kou: To fool the enemy, you must first fool your allies, right?

You and Azusa-kun are too honest and type that can't lie.

So I had decided that I would try to do that if the first attempt failed.

————————————

Kou: So Yuma-kun. How about it? Did you remember anything this time?

Yuma: Why have you been constantly saying nonsense things about whether I remembered something or not?

Also, let me go at once!

Azusa: Looks like it didn't work this time either ... ...

Yui: It can't be ... ...

Kou: Enough already! What should I do to make you remember Yuma-kun?!

Yuma: As if I'd know!

Kou: Well, I'll still consider it a success. Since the cell door is wide open now.

Yui: (That's right, if we're going to escape now is the time to ... ... !)

*Kino walks in*

Kino: Huh? Yuma, what are you playing at?

Yuma: Kino!

Yui: (... ... Kino-kun!?)

Kou: Damn ... ... What bad timing.

Kino: Why are you inside the cell? And to top it off, those two have you trapped.

Yuma: Shut it! Many things happened!

Kino: Yes, yes, don't yell. More importantly, we have an emergency.

The Oranges are attacking us.

Yui: Huh ... ... ?

(Ruki-kun and the others are?!)

-END-

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #chaos lineage #diabolik lovers translation #kou mukami #yui komori #azusa mukami #yuma mukami #kino

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starrysnowdrop · 1 year

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🌟 Star 🌟

Her voice stirred her bed companion, and without even a care in the world, Aymeric looked up at Hali and smiled warmly. (To the end of the chapter)

I would like to know Aymeric's POV about this please x3

Ohhhhhh, now that’s a great question, anon! Aymeric’s POV of the bed sharing scene huh? Hmmm… 😏

First, to make things easier, I’ll share the link to the fic itself, Hold Me Closer, which can be found HERE.

So, before I get into it, I will admit that I want to write more from Aymeric’s POV, of which I only have written a very short piece so far. After my current WIP is done, then I’ll go ahead and write more for Aymeric.

Alright so, Hali is correct in her assessment that she unconsciously scooted over to Aymeric while she was sleeping and began to cuddle with him. Aymeric woke up briefly from this, but he was so happy that he just wrapped his arms around her and let her hold onto him. He drifted back off to sleep soon afterwards.

When he is awakened by Hali freaking out from realizing what she had done, Aymeric is still immensely happy to have been so close to her, so he’s totally in a love drunk state when he says this:

Her voice stirred her bed companion, and without even a care in the world, Aymeric looked up at Hali and smiled warmly.

“Good morning, my dear Hali.”

You can imagine that Aymeric’s Bedroom Eyes are at 100% as well, looking at Hali as if they had done something else than cuddle while they slept.

Hali’s freak out confuses him at first, as he didn’t assume that she would be so embarrassed about it, as seen in this passage:

Aymeric rubbed his eyes momentarily before he tilted his head with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Aymeric’s confusion is quickly diffused when Hali tries to keep it cool, but she fails miserably and is blushing profusely. Then we see a side of Aymeric that is rarely shown but Hali has a way of bringing it out of him, and that's his playful side. He is compelled to tease her when he sees her blush.

Hali plastered a huge grin on her face as she nervously giggled and her cheeks turned a deep red. “Who, me? Ha! Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, you are looking quite flushed,” Aymeric answered with a hint of a smirk.

Now, here comes the part that you likely were asking about anon. What does he mean when he answers Hali in the following passage:

She continued to hide her face even after she heard him softly laugh.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You are very warm and soft. Why, I haven’t slept that well in years!”

With those words, Hali looked up from her hands and jumped up from the bed entirely, screeching as she jumped down to the floor.

“Ahhhh stop teasing me!”

Aymeric’s shook his head. “‘Twas not a jest! I meant what I said.”

So, when Aymeric says that Hali has nothing to be embarrassed about and that he hasn’t slept that well in years, he is saying it in this playful manner after laughing, so he is still teasing her there, but what she doesn’t realize is that he might have said it in a teasing manner, but he actually does mean it. When he says that it wasn’t a jest, it’s the truth.

For years afterwards, Aymeric remembers this night fondly. He truly hadn’t slept that well for as long as he could remember, and doesn’t until they finally can be together, which doesn’t happen until after 6.0. He wakes up and confirms what he had already knew: he is in love with Hali, and no one else can make him feel the way that she does. He wants no other person in his bed, and he even has dreams of this night, and he dreams of what would happen if they were lovers.

Hali’s reaction to Aymeric is to be even more flustered, and stomp out of the room, since she thinks he’s just playing with her.

She shook her head once more when she heard a deep belly laugh from Aymeric as she left his sight.

Aymeric last laugh at the very end here is because she stomps out of the room entirely disheveled with no shoes on and clearly blushing still, so she’s not exactly being in any way subtle about the fact that they slept in the same bed together, and no one would believe her if she said, “It isn’t what it looks like!” He laughs at her because she’s just so damn cute and funny to him and she’s completely unaware of it.

There you go, that’s Aymeric’s POV! Hope you enjoyed it anon, and thank you so much for the ask!! 🥰💖

#anon asks #asks and replies #on my writing

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elejahfanfic · 3 years

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FANFICTION

Part 2

A Joel Goran x Elena Gilbert

_a crossover fanfic, but still tvd

_AU of course

a/n: Elena leaves Mystic Falls to live in Toronto. There she meets Joel, who if course us Elijah's doppelganger...

_song is I just Wait by Paloma Faith

link to part 1

tag_ @eternityunicorn @beautyandwords @elejahforever @bulldozed88

Toronto, Canada

Hope Zion

"I don't know if I could describe it as love at first sight. I think there’s an energy that some people have where they elicit all of the stuff from you and you suddenly become the best version of yourself around them. It’s as terrifying as it is magical." Joel said to Alex as they were discussing his recent great interest in one particular woman that seemed to have changed his behaviour, finding him ordering flowers for that special someone.

"Where have you read that?! There is something so strange about you lately. It's like you have become this calm and colkected and soulful person. No flirtations. The nurses are bewildered. It can't be that this woman out of nowhere just changed everything... and you are actually dating her the old-fashioned way?! That is so not your style?!" Alex said.

"Maybe I will start believing that some women do possess the gift of witchcraft. I have to prepare for the OR!" Joel his fellow collegue behind the OR prep.

Whatever it was Joel Goran was mesmerized by Elena Gilbert. They had a lenghtly talk in the cafe and asked her out for lunch straight out. And they did have lunch, as well as dinner and they didn't even kiss let alone end up in bed, which for him was like eating breakfast. And he sent her flowers, big bunch of red tulips.

"Maybe she has just awaken the gentleman in him!" another nurse remarked to Meg. The gossip wouldn't stop and everyone was eager to meet her.

In Elena's apartment, Elena answered Bonnie's call.

"So, what have you found out? He can't be a doppelganger, can he?!" Elena said.

"We have resurrected old witches, and you saw your own doppelganger, why is it weird to believe that Elijah couldn't have a doppelganger?!" Bonnie said.

"He is - yeah- totally looks like Elijah, but he is different. I made a mistake and aaid Elij...oel to him."

"Elijoel, ha?!"Bonnie remarked.

"Oh, I will take a photo of him and send it tonight. He is taking me out to a jazz club! Figure that." Elena said,

"I wanted to say no... and just leave Toronto, all this is too much, and then, I just can't. I find myself in this weird moment when I look at him and he is so normal and I want to tell him about Elijah, but then I see him run a mile if I tell him that witches and vampires exist."

"You don't have to tell him anything. You are free of Klaus and you only now have a witch friend and a vampire friend." Bonnie exclaimed.

"Just one vampire friend." Elena said.

"I thought Stefan left?!" Bonnie asked.

"Yes, but we still kinda speak," Elena confirmed,"why does everything always have to be complicated?!"

"Nothing is complicated. Just go out with Elijoel and... have fun! I will call you if something weird happens!

"Ok. Talk to you later." Elena said and hung up.

She looked at the flowers. It screamed Elijah to her.

"Huh" Elena huffed a little. It felt like fate played a trick on her and the tables were turned.

Hours later, Joel was in his office, the night had fallen and he just finished with his daily paperwork. He turned to look outside the window. It was a supermoon night.

"Hey. mate!" Joel said jokingly to the moon," are you going to cause havoc tonight?!"

As he turned away his eyes caught a reflection on the window of himself but something was unusual. It was as if he saw himself in a suit and yet he was wearing a T-shirt. He looked back and then shook his head.

"I am too tired!" he said picking up his phone, pressing the speedial with Elena's number.

"E-Joel?!" Elena said as she picked up the call.

"Elena- are we still on for tonight?"Joel said.

"We are." Elena replied.

"Good. Shall we grab something to eat, first?!" Joel suggested.

Elena agreed with all and they soon met in a bistro to Joel's liking. The place or the time was not important to Elena. She wanted to get to know him. And he was pleased to tell her some of his life story. Elijah with a New Zealand accent and so cool- Elena thought. And the mannerisms were all Elijah. Elena flashed back to a day ago when she followed him to the hospital. He was wearing a suit and she watched him talk to a hub nurse, explaining something official.

It was so Elijah. When it came to her to tell how she came to travel the US and Canada for two years, Elena found herself masking the truth, telling white lies and omitting the supernatural part of her life.

At one point her looks swayed to the supermoon outside. He noticed some strange longing in her gaze.

"Don't tell me you believe in all the crazy superstitions about the moon?!"

"Ha?" Elena looked back at the surgeon, "sorry-uhm- it looks beautiful -superstitions?! Me?! But I believe in vampires, werewolves-I am only joking," she said chuckling a bit and then thought, "if only you knew."

"A friend of mine has a theory that moon does affect some people deeply. She said something about the blood moon after the harvest- anyway, I have nothing against folklore and myths. The stories are deep and carry great morals." Joel said.

The waiter came to offer desserts but they declined. Soon they were on their way to the club.

They were ushered to their table as they got in. They ordered their drinks. The show had already started. The singer was introducing the next song.

"Oh, I've seen her in Chicago!" Elena remembered.

"She is really good, I heard- from the nurses!" Joel smirked cutely.

Elena laughed a little now, " so, this date thing was the idea of the nurses?!"

"No. I just heard them talk about Paloma Faith and..."

"It's fine. I will tell you something you probably wouldn't believe" Elena said but Joel cut her off midsentence.

"Oh, don't tell me- your ex was a werewolf and I should actually be beware of him because we have a supermoon outside"

"Yeah!" Elena chuckled a little,"no-it's- I can't remember when I was on a date the last time?!"

"Ok. Let's then do the whole date thing- do you want to dance?" Joel offered his hand.

Elena nodded. They walked to the dance floor.

.....The twinkling in your eyes makes me wonder if I’m dead or alive,

And I, I just wait.

How many clues you need me to leave you?

I feel like I leave ‘em all the time.

Spending days together, I just,

Can’t help wondering when you’ll be mine.

If I could hold your hand, yes I would,

Be with you every day, if I could ....

Joel looked at Elena as if she was this mysterious woman, as he thought. There was something magical about her and although he kept denying it, his soul knew it was love at first sight, the moment she turned and looked at him at the cafe. Again, she was looking at him with familiar eyes that twinkled with a strange invitation making him wonder if he was dead or alive and he now pulled Elena into a gentle kiss as his hand glid up her neck feeling her skin tremble with sweet sensation of the union.

When you gonna open up your eyes and see,

That you and I could always be.

Put your palm into mine,

And stop wasting time.

My heart is breaking, without you,

I don’t wana live another day.

And tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, I’m waiting.

youtube

#doctor joel goran #joelena #elena gilbert #alterntive universe #tvd fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #saving hope crossover

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deliciousmeta · 4 years

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Who matters most in media representation?

Edited and reposted from my personal blog.

In case you haven’t heard, Hollywood is rebooting X-Men, and they’re more than likely going to make Magneto Black this time around.

And, as you may have guessed, people are showing their natural asses.

But there’s nothing the least bit racist about it.

Anybody approaching this issue as if the correct answer is simply a matter of hiring a Black Jew to play Magneto or writing Magneto to be a Black Jew is being insultingly reductive and simplistic, both to Black Jews (*raises hand*) and to the Black actors being considered for the role.

The fact of the matter is...

1. Without Malcolm X and the Black Power movement, there would be no Magneto as we know him today.

The parallels between Malcolm X and Magneto (and Charles Xavier and Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.) have been overt for a long time. Malcolm X and the Black Power movement are built into the DNA of the character of Magneto, whether deliberately and overtly, as it was in the 80′s, or through reflecting the cultural zeitgeist of the civil rights movement in the 60′s. Then X-Men: First Class was released, and that movie beat the audience over the head linking Magneto to Malcolm X and the Black Power movement.

So with Magneto, you have a character whose ideology and methodology are based on a real Black person and movements started by flesh-and-blood Black people but given a fictional backstory as a Jewish Holocaust survivor.

We’ve seen Magneto’s Jewishness portrayed on film. It’s overtly represented in the current roster of X-Men films. Yet, despite how much Magneto as he currently exists owes to Malcolm X and the Black Panthers, specific Black people, that connection to Black history and Black culture is, thus far, purely symbolic.

That’s fucked up.

2. Denzel Washington is not some random Anglo dude.

Magneto is not the role for an unproven actor. Let’s just get that out of the way. Magneto has too much presence and is too complex for the actor who hasn’t proven they have the chops for it.

It matters that Marvel is considering a Black actor to portray him. I’ve heard the name Denzel Washington being tossed around. Him being shortlisted is not random. Leaving aside his credentials–seriously, look them up–as one of the greatest Black actors alive today, he’s played Malcolm X before (you know, the guy the film version of Magneto is strongly based on) and knocked it out of the park. Honestly, I thought his name coming up was a little on the nose.

I’ve heard, "Just hire a Black Jewish actor!”

Name three Black Jewish actors of the same caliber as Denzel Washington, Chiwetel Ejiofar, Idris Elba, or Giancarlo Esposito. And if you say Daveed Diggs, I’m gonna kick you in the crotch.

3. American pop culture has habitually stolen taken from Black history and Black culture while erasing Black people.

The current X-Men films base Magneto on Malcolm X and the Black Panthers yet cast Anglo white actors to portray him. Essentially, these films ripped things from Black history and Black culture, generally the cool and edgy parts, then slapped a white face on it.

Not to mention, the franchise itself did its Black characters dirty. Every Black mutant not named Storm is killed off, and Storm—Storm!—gets treated like an extra.

This fits into the larger pattern of American pop culture “borrowing” from Black culture to seem cool and edgy—and profiting from it—while the Black people and Black struggle that gave birth to that cool and that edginess are erased.

Re-envisioning Magneto as a Black man is one way to correct the X-Men franchise’s role in perpetuating that historical error.

4. American audiences love to play the authenticity police when a Black person gets a chance to play a character wasn’t originally envisioned as Black.

Remember what happened when Zendaya (edit: sorry, it’s Halle Bailey) was cast as Ariel? How all of a sudden, Ariel’s defining trait went from her voice to her hair? There were people arguing, in all seriousness, that Ariel could not be Black because she had to be a redhead. All of a sudden, it was vital that Ariel represent red-haired people.

As if no Black person has red hair and no actor, Black or otherwise, ever dyed their hair red for a role. Like, I dunno, this one:

When Idris Elba was cast as Heimdall, all of a sudden, fidelity to Norse mythology was super-important. When Still Star-Crossed premiered and had Black and Brown people playing Montagues and Capulets, suddenly accurate representation of Renaissance Italy was so critical. When the Star Wars; The Force Awakens trailer hit, as soon as the Stormtrooper helmet came off and revealed John Boyega’s face, all of a sudden, continuity with the Star Wars prequels and The Clone Wars were so important.

Although being a Holocaust survivor is not a cosmetic trait like having red hair or white skin, the pattern of non-Black people suddenly caring about authenticity when a Black person gets a chance to play a role originally conceived as non-Black is still there.

It’s not the comments themselves, but the excessive scrutiny given to Black actors and creators when their chance in the spotlight comes around. We’re seeing it now with the recasting of Batwoman. The issue of Jewish representation, which got put on the back burner when Ruby Rose was cast (when not dismissed outright), is being brought to the forefront now that a Black woman has been cast as the lead.

5. Black Jews are being used as tokens and rhetorical props.

There’s a lot of, “Magneto can be Black and Jewish!” going around.

And the funny thing about it is that the people saying this generally aren’t Black Jews. These same people have zilch to say about the representation of Black Jews in mainstream media. But now that Hollywood is thinking about making Magneto Black, suddenly it’s so important for the world to know we exist.

Uh-huh.

These same people rarely, if ever, pay a lick of attention to what Black Jews have to say about anything else at any other time. So, this insistence that Magneto can be Black and Jewish rings a little hollow.

It’s almost as if Magneto is allowed to be Black as long as he first meets the condition of being Jewish. This would render his Blackness into a cosmetic variance of the presumed norm of Jewishness. And that’s fucking insulting to Black Jews everywhere.

6. In conclusion

The issue of Jewish representation is important. Magneto is a rarity among fictional Jewish characters in mainstream media. He’s not a stereotype or a joke. He’s a complex, compelling character. He’s not a silent, faceless, nameless victim. He’s a force to be reckoned with who demands to be seen and heard.

At the same time, the issue of Jewish representation is sort of being used as a cover for antiblackness, especially considering the historical and cultural influences that went into making Magneto the character he is.

Frankly, we need to get Storm her own fucking movie already.

#fandom racism #fandom antiblackness #media representation #jewish representation #black representation #magneto

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ckret2 · 4 years

Text

Heal Our Wounds

Long after the titan fight in Boston, Serizawa wakes up in a hospital bed, recovering unusually fast from radiation burns he only vaguely remembers receiving. Monarch immediately drowns him in love and attention.

Mark and Madison drop by to share a gift—and some of their post-Boston worries.

Has it really been two and a half months since the last fic, wtf. Anyway this is part of an ongoing series of post-KOTM almost-everybody-lives AU oneshots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is that Serizawa survived and nobody knows how/why (answer: because I wanted him to), and Ghidorah's been chilling with Rodan and possibly dating him. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

The first thing Serizawa noticed as Mark and Madison came into the hospital room was that they both had dark rings under their eyes. Serizawa was getting used to seeing his friends and colleagues like that. But they both smiled and their tired eyes lit up when they saw him.

He returned the smiles. "So! You've finally made time to visit me, eh?" he said chidingly, as if they'd just dropped in on him and not as if Mark had scheduled this visit a week earlier.

Madison immediately ran up to him for a hug. Mark reached out for her, mouth opened to warn her back; but Serizawa held up a hand to prevent Mark's protests. "It's fine," he mouthed to Mark over Madison's shoulder as he hugged her back.

"Wow," Mark said. "You're looking better already. A lot better."

Serizawa nodded and shrugged at the same time. "The doctors say I've been very fortunate," he said. "I think Gojira had a hand in it."

He wasn't sure Mark bought that, but Mark had the grace to keep his mouth shut and just tilt his head indecisively.

"How are you feeling?" Madison asked as she stood up.

"A little sore," Serizawa said. "But mostly tired. I've been recovering well, though."

Madison circled to the other side of Serizawa's bed so she could sit in the guest chair next to him. Mark followed her, but leaned against the bedside table. Serizawa really did have to ask the nurses if they could bring some more chairs into the room. Since he'd been cleared to receive visitors, his room had become a nonstop parade during visiting hours: Monarch staff and their families, government officials and sometimes their translators looking for advice on how to deal with their respective nations' new gigantic residents, various journalists and reporters interviewing him on current events and his involvement in the mass awakening of the titans...

And everyone seemed to start out with the same question: "I know you've told everyone that you don't remember how you made it from the bottom of the ocean all the way to Boston," Mark said hesitantly, "but...?" He shrugged questioningly. "I mean—anything? Weird dreams? Things you heard while you were unconscious...?"

Serizawa shook his head. "Nothing. I don't even remember the bomb going off. The last thing I recall is getting out of the submarine and seeing Gojira. And then waking up in a hospital, burning."

"Huh." Mark let out a long sigh, mouth twisted in confusion. "Well—whatever happened down there—and whatever's making you recover from your burns so well—we're all glad for it.”

"Gojira," Serizawa said again firmly.

"He's probably right, Dad," Madison piped up. "I've been reading about the effects of titan radiation. It starts out like radiation burns, but something about it makes organic matter heal a lot faster instead of just... breaking it down."

"Really," Mark said skeptically.

"Really! It's the same thing that makes plants grow back so fast in the cities that titans have been through! The research has been out for like three years, Dad," Madison said, rolling her eyes.

"There's a great deal we don't understand yet, but—what Madison says is true," Serizawa said, trying not to smile too broadly. Madison had always been such a precocious child, always talking about whatever interested her. For the longest time it had been insects; recently it had been camping and survival techniques—something that only in retrospect Serizawa realized was so worrisome. He was glad to hear her talking about science again.

"But we're not here to talk about that," Madison said quickly, practically squirming in her chair with obvious eagerness to move on to the next topic. She gave her dad a pointed look.

"Right!" Mark took off a satchel he'd slung across his body and opened the flap. "We—'we' meaning Monarch, basically—wanted to give you a 'get well soon' gift. Rick mostly put it together, but we all contributed the pictures."

"Pictures?" Serizawa asked.

"Of your new friends," Mark said, suppressing a smile. He pulled out a tablet, scrolled through it a moment, and offered it to Serizawa. "From all over the world. I'll email it to you, but we wanted to show it to you in person."

Serizawa took the tablet. When he noticed Madison leaning over the bed to watch too, he held it out farther to allow her and Mark to watch. It was a slideshow, the first slide of which said in large letters, "GET WELL SOON!!" and in smaller text, "from Monarch and the titans."

He swiped to the next slide.

Godzilla stared back at him with eyes crossed and snout smooshed up to the window of Castle Bravo.

Serizawa laughed.

He swiped through the notes and images, pausing to read the well-wishing messages from Monarch agents and their allies—some close friends, some he'd only spoken to once or twice—and to examine the pictures and clips they'd put together for him.

A video of Rodan dramatically bobbing and headbanging in time to a Spanish song. An attached caption mentioned that after recording Rodan bobbing to over twenty different songs and sending them to a comparative psychologist in California, they could definitively say that Rodan was actually meeting the official definition for "dancing"—deliberately moving in sync with the beat of the music—and he was better at keeping the beat than parrots, one of the few other categories of non-human dancers.

Several pictures showed Kraken hanging out next to various Monarch ships, mimicking the ships' paint jobs. In some of the pictures, he even displayed unintelligible lines across his head that looked like attempts to copy the text and symbols printed on the ships' sides.

The Chen twins included a selfie of themselves and Mothra, as well as a message they said was translated directly from Mothra herself: a sincere wish for Serizawa to either get well soon or have a smooth reincarnation if he didn't, and a thank you from both her and Godzilla for saving Godzilla. Apparently Godzilla thought of Serizawa as "the flashy human." (Serizawa had to pause to wipe his eyes before continuing to the next slide.)

Pictures of Behemoth moving heavy objects around for humans with patient amusement. A photo of "Quetzalcoatl" half obscured by the sea with a brief message informing Serizawa that, in action, Quetzalcoatl appeared to more closely resembled myths about a creature called "Manda." Poems, with an apologetic note that they were better in Arabic, that one of the Monarch agents at Outpost 75-B had written about Mokele-Mbembe.

A short note from Admiral Stenz that wryly said, "Even the Navy is having to adjust to your new friends," followed by an image of Ghidorah reclined on an aircraft carrier like a vacationer on an inflatable pool lounge.

From the corner of his eye, Serizawa saw Madison flinch. He looked up at her; her face had gone blank, but there was a terrible fear in her eyes. Mark put a hand on her shoulder.

Serizawa turned off the tablet and set it down on the bed. "Perhaps I should look at these when I don't have visitors."

Madison's gaze dropped. "I'm gonna..." She slipped out of her father's hand and circled around Serizawa's bed. "Gonna get a soda. M'thirsty."

Mark reached out for her. "Maddie..." But she'd already disappeared down the hallway. He sighed, sank down into the seat she'd vacated, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Serizawa let the silence settle for a moment before he quietly said, "She's been through a great deal."

"Has anyone told you that she got up close and personal with the Three Stooges? They saw each other. They interacted."

Serizawa shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. He'd heard that she'd made herself quite the hero—sneaking away from Jonah's terrorist gang with the ORCA; single-handedly breaking whatever control Ghidorah had over the titans; luring Ghidorah, Godzilla, Mothra, and Rodan to Boston where they could settle their differences. It had been clear just how much danger she'd been in; but he'd never imagined that danger.

"She says she was as close to him as..." Mark looked out the window and pointed, "as that tree." The tree was near enough that Serizawa could see how the surfaces of individual leaves curved and rippled. "He looked directly at her—all three heads. He tried to kill her. Blasted..." Mark tried to pantomime with his hand in front of his mouth. "Blasted that lightning of his."

A chill ran down Serizawa's back. He'd known Madison since she was born. The thought of her ending like that, incinerated by an enraged titan...

"She's changed so much," Mark went on. "She's having trouble sleeping. She's sullen, she's so serious... Even the sound of the air conditioning coming on makes her jump. And I don't know how much of that is everything she went through, how much of it is whatever—whatever eco-fascist brainwashing Jonah put her and Emma through, how much of it's just her being a teenager..." Mark trailed off helplessly.

There was frustration in his voice and guilt in his eyes.

"I—maybe I'd know if I'd—been around. If I'd seen her often enough to know what she's like."

"You're around her now," Serizawa pointed out. "You cannot change your past actions, but you can support her now when she needs you."

Mark nodded reluctantly. "I just... wish I knew how."

That was where Serizawa's sage advice ran out. His child rearing experience capped out at entertaining agents' kids with titan stories and pocket watch jokes in fifteen-minute bursts of babysitting. "Have you... looked into therapy?"

"I'm her father. I should be able to help her through this myself," Mark insisted. He shifted his position uncomfortably. "And everyone's booked up."

Serizawa tisked.

"But Maddie's... she's strong." Mark sounded like he was repeating something someone else had told him, not something he quite believed himself. "She'll pull through this."

Serizawa could remember all the times over the past couple of years that Emma had boasted about what a strong young woman Maddie was developing into—a boast that, knowing what he knew now about what Emma had been training Madison for, was more chilling in hindsight. He wondered if Mark had been visiting Emma in jail to talk to her about Maddie.

Strong or not, though, facing down a titan attack and being responsible for saving the world was an astounding weight to put on anyone's shoulders, much less a twelve-year-old's. Pile enough weight on even the strongest structure, and eventually it buckles.

Mark muttered, "I can't believe he's still running around."

Serizawa didn't have to ask who. Mark's gaze was aimed at the tablet's black screen.

"If that thing was dead, maybe... I don't know, maybe Maddie wouldn't constantly feel like she has to watch her back. Like she's afraid he'll come back and finish the job."

Serizawa shifted to sit up higher. "I understand how your daughter's pain must pain you too," he said. "But that's no reason to condemn a living creature to death."

"It's not just that. He's dangerous, you know he is." Mark held up a hand before Serizawa could say anything else. "I know, I know—I should be making peace with the titans. I have with most of them. I don't think I'm at the point where I'd invite Godzilla to my birthday party, but he's on my Christmas card list."

From what Serizawa understood about American Christmas card customs, he was pretty sure that making someone's list was faint praise.

"But Ghidorah? He's not like the others. The others just... accidentally flatten human cities. To them it's like stepping on an anthill without looking. Ghidorah is that sick kid who holds a magnifying glass over an anthill. He's evil. Even you've felt it!"

Serizawa couldn't argue with that. He had seen Ghidorah up close in Antarctica—seen the way his eyes darted about, picking out humans across the ice so he could crush them. He'd seen the malice in Ghidorah's gaze. He'd seen the rage, too—a fury that had smoldered for eons, a fury that was older than the human race. He'd seen the light flashing off Ghidorah's eyes and teeth as he'd singled out Vivienne and devoured her.

But was what he saw in Ghidorah's eyes so different from the rage he'd seen in Mark's eyes when Mark had set foot in a Monarch facility for the first time in years, when Mark had snarled that all titans must be executed? Or the cold malice in Emma's eyes when she'd declared from the safety of a terrorist's bunker that human civilization had to be scoured from the Earth? If either of them had been Ghidorah's size, would Mark have been any kinder to Godzilla or would Emma have to Boston? Serizawa had his doubts.

There was no anger that wasn't somehow inspired by pain, by suffering, by fear. Even though Serizawa could still see Vivienne disappearing into Ghidorah's jaws over and over when he closed his eyes, there was some part of him that wondered what it was Ghidorah feared so deeply. And for that, Serizawa pitied him.

"You yourself called Ghidorah a false king," Mark went on. "You know he doesn't belong on this world."

"That is true," Serizawa said. "But he could belong. There is room enough on our world for him to find a place he fits."

"Wh—" Mark leaned away from Serizawa, blinking in disbelief. "How does a false king fit in on Earth?!"

"By learning to act like a citizen, instead of a conqueror."

"I—Wh—You don't think he's going to just do that, do you? Out of the goodness of his big, lightning-spewing heart? Before he floods the planet, or—or challenges Godzilla for leadership again?"

"What has he been doing since Boston?" Serizawa thought he already knew—although he wasn't currently working, he was receiving regular reports from several outposts, mainly from people who thought he'd enjoy hearing them—but he wanted to hear the answer in Mark's own words.

"Well, he—he's been skulking near Rodan's volcano, mostly. Throwing any trailers or tech we try to so much as get on the edge of the volcanic rock back into the village. He's been learning Rodan's language—did you know Rodan has a language—?"

Serizawa nodded. "I'm subscribed to Dr. Flores Rosales's YouTube channel."

That almost got a smile out of Mark. "Of course," he said. "Rodan's even been teaching him... more complicated calls. So the next time he tries to take over, he's going to be able to give the other titans direct orders. And he's been exploring the planet. Learning the landscape. Playing with our weather—he diverts entire hurricanes like they're nothing. He turns over tanks like they're toys. Experimenting with human technology—our technology. Studying how we work."

Serizawa nodded again, absorbing that analysis.

"Getting a better understanding of our planet," Mark concluded. "He's going to be better prepared the next time he attacks it. The longer we wait, the more prepared he gets."

Serizawa took a moment to process that, collect his words, and then reply carefully. "I can understand how his actions appear to you," he said. "And perhaps that is what Ghidorah is doing—studying us, toying with us. But when I look at those same things, here's what I see. Ghidorah has found a home—perhaps a temporary one, perhaps more permanent. He's established the borders of what he feels like is his territory, and when we respect his boundaries, he has respected ours. He's learning to communicate with his neighbors through words instead of through violence. He's shown us that his species sings—that he understands art.��He's shown us he has a sense of humor. He's discovering that the earth is covered in unique, fascinating places, and that humans aren't playthings to torture and kill but inventors and engineers. He's made a friend—a friend whose lessons and advice he will sit and listen to, a friend whom he goes to great lengths to protect from discomfort, and a friend who he seems to care for."

Mark also took a long moment to think over Serizawa's words. He was growing a little bit, Serizawa thought. If they'd had this conversation before Boston, Mark would more than likely have steamrolled over Serizawa's interpretation and clung to his own—as he had with so many other opinions he'd had for so many years. Maybe discovering he was wrong about Godzilla had made him a more thoughtful person. Or maybe he was just working to be more respectful because Serizawa was in the hospital—time would tell.

Finally, Mark said, "A 'friend' who he fights with. All the time. Rodan clawed his wing up pretty good in Antarctica."

"And then kept him warm through the night, stayed near him for the next few days, and reactivated a volcano that's been dormant for four thousand years to give him a place to rest. I don't think it was a fight fueled by hatred," Serizawa said. "Have you been watching Rodan's language lessons as well?"

"A few. Not as many as I should," Mark admitted. "It's hard to look at—I mean—Ghidorah tried to kill me and my daughter."

Serizawa nodded understandingly. He had just about gotten used to the sight of Ghidorah curiously ask Rodan to clarify what the word "many" meant, and even at that Serizawa still sometimes instead flashed to a memory of Vivienne's last moments. "You should ask Xochitl if she has transcripts," Serizawa said. "Ghidorah and Rodan squabble over which fights 'count' and 'don't count' like two children trying to cheat at a board game. They see their battles as play."

"Huh," Mark said. "Like...?" He didn't finish the question.

Serizawa gestured encouragingly at Mark to continue. He had a feeling he knew where Mark had been heading.

"Well." Shrugging self-consciously, Mark said, "You know the joke theory that Outpost 56-B's been putting forward."

An amused smile broke out across Serizawa's face. "That Rodan and Ghidorah might be...?"

"Courting," Mark mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That what we're seeing is courting behavior. Or—or dating, are they intelligent enough to date? I mean, Ghidorah's building radios..."

"I think there's some potential to the theory," Serizawa said, still grinning. "Outpost 56-B has collected some very compelling evidence. It's not conclusive, but it's certainly suggestive."

"Suggestive." Mark shook his head again and rubbed his eyes. "There's no way they're reproductively compatible."

"Not all couples are. Either in the animal kingdom, or in our own species."

"So, is that the bet you're wagering?" Mark asked. "You think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah while we still have a chance because if he decides to settle down and make a big fiery nest with Rodan, he won't destroy our planet?"

Serizawa sobered up. "No," he said. "I think we shouldn't try to kill Ghidorah because his behavior suggests he no longer wants to kill us. It suggests that he is trying to leave conquering behind and trying to behave like a fellow citizen of our planet—cooperative, respectful of the other species he shares the world with, communicative with his neighbors despite the massive language barriers. If that changes, through Mothra we can call Gojira for help. If it doesn't change... then if Ghidorah is seeking redemption, I think we should let him seek it. Whatever his motive may be."

Mark thought that over, lips pursed. Finally, he said, "I hope you're right. You've been right about a lot of other things, but..." He sighed.

It would take Mark some time to accept. That was understandable; Serizawa saw no need to rush him. Ghidorah had directly threatened Mark's family, after all. But Godzilla had ultimately helped cause far greater harm to the Russell family—harm that couldn't be healed with time—and Mark had made peace with him. If Ghidorah's recent behavior really was indicative of a change, Serizawa was sure Mark could eventually make peace with Ghidorah, too.

For now, though, Serizawa should probably lighten the mood. A bit of humor creeping back into his voice, Serizawa said, "But, if it does turn out that what we've been observing on Isla de Mara is courting..."

Mark gave Serizawa a wary look. "What?"

"Do you remember what you said when we were trying to figure out why Ghidorah was heading toward Isla de Mara?" Serizawa asked.

"Oh no." Mark buried his face in a hand, but not before Serizawa got a glimpse of him fighting back a smile. "Not you, too. Nobody's let me live it down."

"You said he wanted a food, a fight, or a..."

"I know! What about it?"

"Well, then." Serizawa sat back, shrugged permissively, and said, "Let them fuck."

Mark huffed.

The conversation drifted to how their respective extended families had weathered the attacks and the corresponding changes to their daily lives, to Mark's tentative plans to balance getting back into Monarch against keeping Madison away from any active outposts, and to Serizawa's goals for once he was back on duty. Serizawa planned to return to work as soon as he was allowed out of the hospital.

"And to visit all of them," he said firmly, "the moment the doctors allow me on an airplane. If I can't take a plane, I'll ride a boat."

Mark chuckled. "All of them? Even the mean ones?"

"No such thing," Serizawa said confidently. "Maybe hurting, maybe distrustful of humans—or maybe so far removed from our cultures that they don't yet recognize humans as feeling people—but not mean."

"So you gonna go open up diplomacy with the titans on behalf of humanity?" Mark asked. "Go say 'hi' and have a little chat like you did with Godzilla?"

Serizawa smiled. "If they'll let me."

Madison finally came back in the room, smiling shakily but clearly calmer than when she'd left. She didn't have anything from the vending machine. Neither Serizawa nor Mark commented on it.

"Afraid this is leaving with me," Mark said, picking up his tablet from the bed. "But I'll email you the slideshow. They let you have your phone in here, right?"

"I have a new one." His old one had been with him during his meeting with Godzilla. It hadn't shared Serizawa's miraculous survival. Rick Stanton had helped him get all his old data out of "the cloud" onto his new phone, and once he had his photos back he liked his new phone better. It was bigger.

"We'll come back as soon as we can," Maddie said as she leaned in for a hug, then looked to her dad for confirmation.

"Of course," Mark said, nodding, "unless you manage to talk your way out of here before we find time to come by again."

Serizawa grinned. As much as he might want to, he probably needed to be able to walk out the door by himself before he could go. "If you don't come see me before I get out, I'll come see you." He had a whole list of people he needed to visit.

The last thing Mark said before he left was, "Get some rest. You've still got a lot of recovering to do."

On more than one level. "I will." Glancing between Mark and Maddie's tired faces, Serizawa said, "So do you."

###

(Do you guys know how long I've been waiting to write Serizawa saying "let them fuck"? Like half a year. Anyway so the “titan radiation heals injuries instead of making them worse” is, obviously, a lot of BS and Not How Radiation Works, but it’s consistent with KOTM’s “titan radiation heals nature and grows plants!!” and with Legendaryverse’s overall lack of people getting severe radiation burns from being so close to confirmed-radioactive kaiju all the time. If canon’s gonna act like kaiju have some made up form of Magical Healthy Radiation, okay, I’ll roll with that.)

(Replies/reblogs are welcome and greatly appreciated! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#serizawa ishiro #madison russell #mark russell #godzilla #kotm #fanfic #my writing

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littlemisswolfie · 3 years

Text

Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad) Part II

<Part I

Here’s part two! There was actually a much larger gap between these updates on ao3 since I just now remembered to post part one here today, so don’t expect part three to come any time too soon. Hope y’all enjoy!

If you have sensitive triggers, follow the ao3 link and read the end notes. I wasn’t personally triggered by anything I wrote, but I have no idea what triggers my readers, and your safety is paramount, so I may have over-warned.

AO3

Langa doesn’t feel anything about moving back to Japan.

He doesn’t feel anything in general, anymore. He knows he should feel something. This is the country he was created in, where he was tortured and trained before he could speak, where he met his mom for the first time in the hospital ward of his prison. But Japan isn’t really anything to him. It’s not a nightmare, because Okinawa, with its sun and warmth, is nothing like Teiko’s stale, cold walls, but it’s not home, because home is Canada, is mountains and snow and Canada Day fireworks and his dad.

He puts the letter his dad wrote him—still unopened—in the back of his sock drawer.

Okinawa isn’t anything.

Langa isn’t anything.

“Do you want to meet them?” his mom asks, a few days after they move into their small apartment.

She doesn’t have to clarify who “them” are. “No,” he says. “I never knew them well. They probably don’t remember me.”

The Miracles are all adults. They have families, lovers, jobs and friends and lives. Langa doesn't have anything to say to people he hasn’t seen in ten years, and they wouldn’t benefit from knowing he’s alive, so he doesn’t care.

High school isn’t compulsory in Japan, but he attends anyway, because he knows it will make his mom happy. She has enough on her plate, with a new job and having to make new friends, so he has to make this transition as easy as possible for her.

She’s given up enough for him already.

Sitting at his new desk at his new school with his classmates all pretending not to stare at him, he decides to get a part time job.

He’s on edge the entire time he’s sitting across from Sakurayashiki. He knows, logically, that a lot of people in Japan have started dying their hair to support the Miracles, so this grown man who has an affinity for technology having pink hair doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a Pink Two, especially since Pink Twos were predominantly designed female and his eyes are gold instead of pink, but he still hates the idea.

He’s not GI-B423 anymore. He doesn’t want to be associated with Teiko.

When Sakurayashiki rejects his job application, he’s kind of relieved.

He leaves the calligraphy studio and meets Kyan Reki.

Reki is everything Langa isn’t. He’s bright and happy and loud.

Back in Canada, people like this used to annoy Langa. Too noisy, too close, too much. But Reki is never overwhelming. He’s excited, like a puppy, and he’s genuine. Langa can’t help but be drawn into his orbit, like he’s a planet and Reki is the sun.

Ah, he thinks, in that part of his mind that never really left Teiko. He’s mine.

He lets Reki chatter in his ear about skateboarding and watches him work in his workshop and is—not happy, but content, for the first time since his dad got sick.

Skateboarding at S isn’t exactly what awakens that thrill Langa has always craved. It’s similar enough to snowboarding that Langa can let his body take over for a majority of the beef, so that certainly helps, but it’s not the thing.

The thing is the unpredictability.

He should probably feel concerned about that, about how the danger makes his heart race, how Shadow’s aggressiveness thrills him to his bones. It’s a Teiko thing, so he shouldn’t enjoy it, but he does.

“How did you do that?” Reki asks him later as he helps Langa peel the duct tape from his feet. “That was crazy, man!” His eyes are shining, and Langa thinks, I did that.

“I used to snowboard,” he says, instead of I was genetically engineered and trained for the first five years of my life to be an assassin but I never developed my powers.

Reki grins. “This is gonna be so awesome.”

Langa learns how to skateboard fast.

When Reki comments on how quick he’s learning, he gives his teaching all the credit, even though he knows it’s not exactly true. His mom doesn’t tell him much about how Teiko designed him, but he can read between the lines. He’s never had to work as hard to learn new things as the kids around him, particularly if they had a physical element. He’s more observant than usual, and it’s harder to scare him than it should be.

He could easily make up some other excuse, like his past in snowboarding, but the way Reki’s face lights up when Langa compliments him is too good to pass up.

His mother has never been good at hiding her emotions, which Langa finds more than a little ironic, considering she came to be his mom by working in a secret lab.

After the absolute roller coaster of emotions he sees on her face when she brings up the scrapes he’s been getting from skating, he takes pity on her and tells her what he’s been getting up to. The smile she gives him in response is one he hasn’t seen on her in a long time.

“Oh, baby,” she says, actual tears in the corners of her eyes, “I’m glad you found such a good friend.”

Reki’s friendship isn’t limited to skating.

Langa, privately, would have been content even if it were. It would only mean he spent more time skating than he usually would. But Reki seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with him. He gets Langa to do his English homework for him in return for writing out Langa’s notes and homework in his neater handwriting, they spend their lunches together on the rooftop, Reki gets him a job at Dope Sketch, and, well…

They’re just always together.

Even better, Reki is a very touchy person. It’s unconscious, most of the time, like he can’t help it. A brush against his arm here, a nudge at his side there, an arm thrown around his shoulders while they walk together.

The contact makes him feel alive.

He beats Miya, but only just barely. Miya has years more experience than him, and it’s only due to his unconventional skating that he gets the upper hand. The idea of losing… it’s just—unacceptable. Because losing means scrapping. Losing means death.

The way Miya reacts to the loss reminds him of Teiko, so he says, “I had fun. Let’s skate again,” to make that terrified expression disappear. And then Reki starts messing with him, teasing him like an affectionate older brother, and, for a moment, it seems like the night will end there, without any additional fuss.

But then Adam shows up.

Adam, even with his blue hair and eyes hidden behind a mask, reminds Langa of a Red Zero. He’s obviously a man used to getting his own way, and that silky smooth tone in his voice when he make innocuous little statements belies the ugly nature underneath. He’s a sociopath. The only reason he knows he’s not a Red Zero with dyed hair is that he feels no compulsion to do what he says. In fact, he feels nothing—

Until he insults Reki and Miya.

“Hey,” Reki says, sounding angry, which Langa has never heard before, “take what you said back.”

Adam, who was about to touch Langa’s leg, straightens, a dangerous smile on his lips. “And what if I said I wouldn’t?”

If Langa were better with his words, he would warn Reki. No, he would say, he’s too dangerous, it’s too risky for you, but he can’t find his voice to say it, so Reki kicks up his board and challenges Adam to a beef.

“Sorry about that,” Reki says, later, as they skate home from Crazy Rock. “Betting you, I mean.”

“It’s fine,” says Langa, because he can’t say that means I’m yours to bet without making this whole situation even more strange than it already is.

They run into Joe at a ramen shop the next day. His green hair sets Langa off a little again, but Joe is nothing like a Green Seven, so he forces himself to relax a little and listen to the older man’s advice.

“When did you start dyeing your hair?” Langa asks when Joe stands up to leave.

Reki and Joe both startle a little at the question, like they hadn’t expected him to say anything about it. “Well, me and Cherry were in high school when that Special Diet happened, so we dyed our hair out of support, and I guess the colors just kinda stuck.”

“Man,” Reki says, leaning forward onto the counter after Joe leaves. “It’s so weird to think about the Miracles as adults, y’know? They’re not in the news very much anymore.”

“The Yellow is,” Langa says.

“‘Yellow?’” Reki looks confused.

“Oh, sorry, ‘yellow.’ I used the English word on accident.”

“Oh, cool. Sometimes I think about your shitty handwriting and forget you’re bilingual.” Reki gives him a friendly poke in the side. “But, yeah, that yellow one’s a model, right? Of course he’d be in the news every once in a while. Oh, plus the red one’s adopted father has been petitioning for same-sex marriage to be legalized in Japan for a while now, so I guess you hear about him sometimes, huh? When did you start dyeing your hair?”

“I’ve never dyed it,” Langa says, looking down at the empty bowl in front of him. “My hair has always been this color.”

“Huh. Weird.” Reki shrugs and reaches into his pocket to pull his wallet out. “Joe was trying to be nice, but we still gotta pay.”

Langa’s grateful for the end of the conversation. He knows he’ll have to tell Reki someday, if they remain friends, but the longer he can put it off, the better.

Miya drags them and Shadow out to Crazy Rock for some practical training. It hurts to see Reki so frustrated with his own abilities when Langa knows how good he is. Reki shouldn’t be measuring himself up against people like him, who have superhuman gifts, or Miya, who trains as much as he’s in school to make the national team, or Shadow and Joe and Cherry, who are all adults and have been skating for so much longer than he has.

Someday, Reki, Langa thinks, someday you’ll realize how special you are.

Langa skates down a little further to grab Reki’s board when it gets away from him to let Reki rest a little, and tries to do the Love Hug Miya mentioned. Reki is quick to reassure him that there’s no way to actually go uphill, but Langa still feels uneasy.

He knows there’s a way. There has to be. He just hasn’t figured it out yet.

At least he gets to go to A&W afterwards. He’s been missing poutine.

Langa wishes there was something he could say that would help Reki when he picks him up for the beef.

Your worth isn’t determined by skateboarding.

Don’t be discouraged if you lose.

Please be careful.

But none of those things would be helpful. Not really. Even if he could say them in Japanese the way he wants to in English, they would still sound condescending, like Langa didn’t believe in him.

So he says nothing.

Adam does the Love Hug.

Reki goes flying.

Langa sees red.

“I can finally skate with you,” Adam says, sounding enthralled, almost orgasmic, and the only thing Langa can think about is how easy it would be to kill him for what he did to Reki. It wouldn’t take much. Just enough pressure on the throat. A fall off Crazy Rock. A sharp stone to the jugular or the temple. Langa could make it look like an accident, he’s sure. He got more than enough training to do that much on a small scale like this. And even if he did get caught, hey, at least he would have had revenge for injuring Reki.

But Reki is still alive. Reki needs a hospital more than he needs Langa to kill Adam.

He’ll get his revenge in a beef.

“Please,” Reki says, over and over again. “Don’t race against Adam.”

“I’m going to do it, Reki,” Langa says, just this side of a snap. “Stop trying to convince me otherwise.”

“Look, I appreciate it if you’re pissed about my injury—” And oh, he is, he hates seeing Reki’s arm in that cast, he hates that he had to wait in a hospital again when he last time he had to do that his dad was dying— “but Adam’s really on a whole ‘nother level. You’re crazy good, dude, but he’s just crazy.”

“I’m doing it.” He takes a large bite out of his sandwich, and it must be aggressive enough, because Reki backs off, at least for now.

“Mom?” Langa says over dinner that night, one of her few nights off from the hospital.

She’s at attention immediately, which Langa feels a little guilty about. He knows he really shut her out after his dad died, and now every time he speaks, she acts like she’s never heard his voice before. “Yes, honey? What is it?”

“What—” He takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “What all did Teiko give me?”

Her eyes harden in a way they so rarely do that it catches Langa off guard. “Nothing,” she says, vicious. “They didn’t give you anything, baby. They gave you nightmares and trauma, and that’s it.”

“There were files!” Langa says, voice raising. He didn’t mean to do that, but it’s happening now, so he has to let it go. “There must have been! And you were a nurse, so you had to have seen them!”

His mom slams her hands down on the table. “That is enough,” she says. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m not talking about this right now.” She stands up, clears her plate, and stomps into her room, closing the door behind her.

Langa groans, pushes his hair out of his face, and grabs his skateboard.

He, Reki, Shadow, Miya, and Cherry take over Joe’s Italian restaurant later that night, and as Langa watches Cherry demonstrate how the Love Hug works, something clicks in his brain.

I can do this, he thinks. I can beat the Love Hug.

“I’m beggin’ ya,” Reki says, one final time, “don’t skate against Adam.”

“Even if I get injured, I won’t quit skateboarding,” Langa says, but what he wants to say is, I won’t leave your side.

He feels Reki’s fist against his chest the whole ride home.

Skating against Adam is—

Langa hates to admit it, but it’s that adrenaline rush he’s been craving. Adam defies logic in every way possible when he skates, and it keeps Langa on his toes. Skating with Reki brings that easy warmth he got on the bunny slopes with his parents as a child, but Adam is electric, dangerous, and everything that Teiko side relishes in.

“It seems that you’re the same type of person as myself,” Adam says, wonder in his voice, and Langa hates himself for not being able to deny it.

And then he jumps over the Love Hug, and his heart soars, and he thinks Reki, did you see that?

“What happened to the promise that you wouldn’t be reckless?” Reki asks after they evade the cops, out by the water. He sounds… he’s not angry, or scared, or worried. His tone of voice is resigned, like he never should have expected Langa to be careful.

“Sorry,” Langa says, but he’s not, and he knows Reki can hear it.

He knows he can’t ask his mom for permission to go on this trip without making up with her first, so a few nights after his beef with Adam, he knocks on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

He hears the sheets rustle, hears her sigh, and then she says, “Come in.”

He sits on the side of her bed, his back brushing against her legs. “I’m sorry I upset you the other night,” he says, his words halting. Even in English, he can never express himself the way he wants to. “It’s just—things have been getting intense, where Reki and I skate, and I was wondering how much of that was because of Teiko.”

She sighs again, and puts her hand on his shoulder. “No, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you,” she says. “You have every right to wonder. I just hate talking about that place. You’re not what they made you to be, baby.”

“‘Cause I never developed my powers.” He’s sour about that, and he shouldn’t be. It’s easier, pretending to be human when you don’t have superpowers, but he heard all about the Miracle Black Four during the Special Diet, about how he used his powers for years to orchestrate their escape, and he’s jealous. He was engineered to do exactly what Kuroko Tetsuya did, and his stupid body never figured it out.

“Black Fours were doomed from the start.” His mom is trying to be reassuring, he knows, but that’s not really helpful. “GM-B452 was an outlier. In the eight generations between him and you, the scientists were no closer to getting true invisibility to manifest. Infinity was the last generation they were going to produce Black Fours, anyway.”

He’d never heard that before. “Really?”

His mom nods. “Really. They were just going to add the power to the Silvers, instead.”

“What else did my files say?” he asks.

She looks uncomfortable. “Langa, a lot of this stuff—it’s not good, honey. Reading your files when I started made me sick. They knew exactly how tall you were going to be, your projected adult weight, they—” She breaks off, wiping welling wetness from her eyes. “If you weren’t a Failure, and you survived to adulthood, they were going to breed you, baby, with the Pink Two, and the White Ten, if she survived. They predicted which Projects you would find sexual gratification with.”

Langa feels sick, just like his mom said he would. He was—he was a baby, barely a toddler when he and his mom left Japan. These scientists were thinking about his sex life before he knew what sex was. “Why?” he croaks.

“They didn’t see you as human, baby. None of you. You were lab rats with rocket launchers, for all they cared. Only as useful as they money they could make off of you.” Her eyes sharpen. “You said things were getting ‘intense’ with skating. How?”

“Reki was injured during a race,” Langa says, because he figures that all her honesty deserves some honesty out of him. “And I—the guy he was racing against, I wanted to hurt him. I thought of all the ways I could make it look like an accident. But then, a few nights ago, I raced him, and I felt…” He trails off. How can he describe that feeling to his mom without making it seem sexual? “It was like I was flying,” he settles on. “Like, nothing could touch me. I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. Even though I knew he could hurt me, really, really badly, even though we were going sixty kilometers per hour down his track with no fences to keep us from toppling over the edge, even though he kept touching me…” Thinking back on it now, he feels a little sick to his stomach again, especially when he sees the look on his mom’s face.

“This guy,” his mom says, voice serious, “is he a teenager? Or is he an adult?”

“An adult.”

“Langa, baby, I know I can’t stop you from sneaking out at night and doing these races,” she says, hands clasping his, “because I know you can always find another way of getting out if I try to stop you, but if this man ever touches you again without your consent, or if he touches any of the other kids you hang out with without their consent, I want you to tell me, okay? It’s not right.”

“Okay,” Langa says, and he knows this is a promise he’ll have to keep. “But—the adrenaline thing, is that—”

“Teiko designed that, yes,” his mom nods. “They didn’t want any of you cracking under pressure, so they modified your brain to send out more adrenaline.” She smiles, a tad sad. “You were always the biggest adrenaline junkie, though. You tried to do everything dangerous you saw the other Projects do during training, even though you weren’t made for full-on combat. It got you in a lot of trouble.”

Langa rubs at his wrists as the phantom pains flare up again. “That I remember.” Then, remembering the whole reason he came in here in the first place, he says, “A friend of mine and Reki’s says hot springs are a good, natural healing thing, so he got us tickets to Miyakojima this weekend. Is it okay with you if I go?”

“As long as you have an adult with you,” she says, and Langa perks up, because he knows just the adult.

Reki wants to drag him out shopping, because “I can’t believe you don’t have a swimsuit, man, we’re going to the beach, you need a swimsuit.”

“Reki,” he says, panicking a little, because if his trunks ride up everyone will see, see the brand on his thigh, they’ll know he’s GI-B423— “Reki, I can’t swim.”

Reki gives him an incredulous look. “You’re seventeen and you don’t know how to swim?”

“I lived near the mountains my whole life,” Langa retorts, and, yes, this is good, he can needle back and forth with Reki all day long.

Reki groans. “Fine, then,” he huffs, though Langa knows he doesn’t mean it. “But it’ll be hot, so make sure you dress for the weather, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Langa teases, just to see Reki’s face heat up.

There’s a girl, on the ferry.

She’s pretty, in a distant kind of way. She’s not movie-star beautiful, but her hair is long and silky, and her dress compliments her figure. There is, all in all, nothing off about her.

But.

Reki is staring at her.

Langa feels something ugly twisting in his gut. It reminds him of how he felt when Adam hurt Reki, this overwhelming urge to eliminate, to take Reki away from this threat—

Wait, threat? This girl is normal. Nothing about her conveys any sort of physical advantage or ulterior motive. She’s just a girl, on vacation.

But Reki is staring at her. He’s blushing.

This girl could take Reki away from him.

It’s a relief when she brushes right by them. If she did try to take Reki, Langa couldn’t guarantee her safety.

Reki would forgive him.

Probably.

The beach is beautiful, Langa decides, laying under the umbrella while the others play in the sea. He wishes he could be out there with them, but he knows better; his secret is more important than a little bit of fun.

Someday, he promises himself, letting his hands linger a little too long on Reki’s shoulders while they’re teasing Shadow. Someday I’ll tell them.

Just not today.

Sitting around the fancy inn Cherry’s staying at, and thinking about his conversation with his mom, Langa sneaks out of the large room where they ate dinner while the adults bicker. He finds a small courtyard with patrons milling around, settles himself on the deck, and tries to picture himself becoming invisible.

It’s risky, he knows; Teiko Projects glow when they use their powers, so if he is successful, someone could notice. But he’s not actually expecting to be successful, at least not in the psychic capacity. He never was before.

Langa knows he stands out in a crowd. He’s tall for Japan, and his hair and eyes always make people assume he’s a Miracle. It doesn’t take long for people to start glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes, and Langa picks one, an old man wearing a green patterned yukata, leaning heavily against a wooden cane and not even trying to pretend he’s not staring at him, and focuses on not being visible.

How the fuck do I not be visible?

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. What was it the Black Miracle said during the Special Diet? I can only make someone temporarily forget my own presence. Is that the key? It’s less invisibility and more induced amnesia? God, the other Projects in his Generation used to make it look so easy. One second they’d be standing still, and the next they were glowing all sorts of bright colors and doing what they were made to do.

He doesn’t think about the other members of his Generation often, so the thought comes as a surprise to him. For just a moment, he lets himself imagine what they would be like, if they’d also been freed like Langa was.

The moment is brief. Dwelling on those things only made Langa’s heart ache.

He crosses his arms across his knees, digging his blunt nails into the skin by his elbows, and thinks of the man he picked earlier. Don’t look at me, he thinks, screwing his eyes shut. You don’t see me. I’m not here.

Then, after a moment, he lifts his eyes, and he bites back a gasp, because the forearm in front of his face is surrounded by a faint black outline. It’s not a brilliant glow, like a Yellow or and Orange, but it’s there. His eyes dart back up to the old man with the cane, and he looks dazed, almost confused, like he’s wondering what he was looking at.

He’s doing it. He’s doing it!

In his excitement, he loses focus, and the faint outline fades, but it was there. He isn’t useless like he always thought.

He’s a success. A little bit, at least.

He has to try again. He picks another person, a mother cradling her baby, and tries to recall that feeling, the one right before he noticed the outline. It was almost like… desperation. He was desperate to manifest the powers he was designed with. Desperate to prove himself worthy of…

Of what? The approval of Teiko, a company that doesn’t exist anymore? The approval of the scientists, who didn’t see him as human and thought about his future sex life when he was a baby? The respect of his fellow Projects, most of whom are dead?

The approval of himself?

The desire to try it out again fades. God, what is he doing? He’s never felt inclined to use his powers before, so why now? He should be glad he never developed them. Living in human society is hard enough with his hair and eyes; living in Japan is hard enough with his height and his terrible handwriting and his Canadian habits that contradict Japanese ones. Not having powers, not standing out even more than he already does, should be a blessing.

He thinks about the letter his dad wrote him, still unsealed, in his bedside drawer.

He stands up, brushes his pants off, and wanders back to the group. They’re probably wondering where he is, by now, and he doubts he can use the bathroom excuse again.

Langa knows pretty much right away that the things chasing him and Reki are just normal people covered in mud. Even the overpowering stench of the muck can’t hide that from his senses. But he doesn’t really have any concrete way of expressing this to Reki without hinting at what he is, so he goes along with it, and runs with Reki.

It’s the same kind of rush, skating away from an opponent on a rough course like this, only now, he has Reki with him. Reki’s right next to him, keeping up to him even when Langa’s being serious about the whole ordeal, and keeping a level head when Langa turns around to admire their pursuer’s skateboarding skills.

Then the thing starts poking Reki’s leg with his stick, and Langa sees red. How dare this worthless human touch Reki like that? How dare they try to knock him off his skateboard, when he last time he bailed, he ended up in the emergency room? He’d like to knock them right off Shadow’s skateboard, but this time, he’s close enough to catch Reki when he falls, so he does.

The weight of Reki in his arms feels right. It feels inevitable, like he was built to hold him. He can feel Reki’s quick breathing, can practically hear his heart beating in his chest, and it makes him think about other activities that could cause that—

But this is no time for that. Not when they’re being chased, not when Langa doesn’t even know if Reki likes boys the way he likes girls.

“How did you two manage to not get covered in mud yesterday?” Shadow asks them the next morning on the ferry back to Okinawa. He, Cherry, and Joe are all still complaining about the smell they couldn’t wash off last night.

Joe sniffs at his hand and winces. “Did that ghost thing not chase you?”

Reki goes as stiff as a board next to Langa. “That wasn’t a ghost!”

“Well, what was it, then?” Shadow asks.

Langa eyes a poster about a festival about covering people in mud to protect them from evil spirits out of the corner of his eye and says, “Who knows?” If none of the adults can figure it out, that’s on them. He’ll tell Reki about it later.

“Mom?” Langa asks when he gets home after dropping Reki off at his house.

His mom looks up from the movie she’s watching on the couch. “Oh! Welcome home, baby. Did you have a fun trip?”

But he’s not in the mood for pleasantries. “Did Teiko make me gay?” The word falls from his lips and it burns, like he’s said something shameful. Being gay isn’t a big deal in Canada, at least not anymore, and Langa has always absently supported LGTBQ rights in a distant way that made him think he was probably straight after all and just hadn’t found a girl he liked, but this trip…

“Oh, sweetie.” His mom opens her arms and he falls into them like a child. “Before I answer, what brought this on?”

“I just—you said they had a breeding plan, so I know I’m not sterile, but I’ve never been interested in girls.”

“Is that all?”

Langa presses his face further into her shoulder and says nothing.

“Langa, do you remember what I told you when I took you from Teiko?”

“You—you said you were my mom, and that meant you would love me and take care of me for the rest of your life.”

She hums affirmatively, stroking his hair with her gentle fingers. “That love is unconditional. No matter what you do, I’ll love you just the same. That’s how moms work, honey. So, if there’s anything else you want to tell me, you don’t have to be scared.”

Langa opens his mouth. Closes it. Licks his lips and tries again. “I love him, Mom,” he says, the words soft, like a whisper, like a secret. “I love Reki.”

Her smile is in her voice when she says, “Thank you for trusting me with that, honey. I can tell he makes you really happy.”

“We’re not—together,” Langa interjects. “He—he likes girls, and I don’t know if he likes boys, too. He doesn’t know how I feel.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t take that risk.”

“But it’s a big risk. If he doesn’t like me, I might lose him forever.” The mere thought of not having Reki in his life anymore makes tears gather in his eyes. “I couldn’t do it.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and asks again. “Did Teiko make me gay?”

“Yes,” his mom says, simply. “They knew you would eventually interact with humans, and they didn’t want undesirable offspring. But, Langa,” she continues, cupping his chin and raising his head so their eyes would meet. “They didn’t design you to fall in love with Reki. They didn’t think you could love. You loving Reki is all you, baby. Never doubt that.”

“Do you think— Would Dad—?”

“Your father would have adored Reki,” she says, and the weight that falls from his chest makes him gasp. “Reki sounds so much like him, in the best possible ways. They’re cut from the same cloth. And he would have loved you just the same way as always.”

Langa falls asleep like that, in the same clothes he traveled in, curled up in his mother’s lap like a child. His last thought before he drifts off is that letter he still hasn’t opened.

One day, he says. I don’t want to say goodbye yet.

#designation:miracle #sk8: the infinity #langa hasegawa #nanako hasegawa #reki kyan #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #sk8 hiromi #miya chinen #renga #ao3fic #my writing #my post #mine

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chipper9906 · 3 years

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Bound To You - Chapter 9: One Last Idea

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 6,324

Overall Word Count: 70,628

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (9/?)

Chapter Preview:

“Your father shouldn’t have-,” Cas cut himself off with a frustrated grunt, a few octaves away from being a growl. “You were a child. The things he did to you… the responsibilities he forced you to bare… I’m sorry, Dean. I know you have a lot of respect for your father, but that is not a respect I can share.

“Guess we both got too much respect for our dads, huh?” Dean tried to joke, but it fell flat. “You gotta admit that God was more of a disappointment than my dad though, right?”

“The fact that your father is slightly better than an absentee and destructive God isn’t an achievement, Dean.”

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Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

That morning, Dean woke up with a smile on his face.

They were happening quite often, he realized. At least, ever since Cas has taken up residence in his mind, that was. Part of him’s going to miss having Cas up in his head, helping him to turn his nightmares into significantly more pleasant dreams. He supposes that’ll all stop once they get Cas out of his head and back into his body.

Which they will.

Miracle groggily raised her head from the bed at the feeling of Dean shuffling about, yanking himself over to the edge of the bed and into his wheelchair. She huffed that long-suffering ‘how dare you awaken me’ dog sigh at him, but got to her feet with a bone-cracking stretch none the less, obediently following her owner out of the room.

Sam and Eileen were already up (as usual), huddled around the library’s table with a few sheets of paper haphazardly sprawled out between then; a stark contrast from the usual piles upon piles of books it had been the past few days. The two had their heads close together, whispering excitedly to one another as Sam over-enthusiastically gestured to one of the papers in front of him.

“Morning nerds,” Dean greeted them oh so kindly, balancing a scalding cup of coffee a little too close to the family jewels than he’s comfortable with as he pushed himself towards the two. “What’s got you two so jittery at this time of the day?”

Sam and Eileen straightened themselves up, turning their attention towards Dean. “First of all, it’s eleven in the morning. We’ve been up for five hours.” Sam shot back. “Second of all… what’s got you so smiley?”

“Huh?” Dean finds himself raising a hand to his face self-consciously, only to confirm that yep, he still had the smile planted on his face. “What? Something wrong with me being in a good mood?”

“With you? Yeah, since it usually means you’ve put Nair in my shampoo again or something.”

“Yeah, that was a good one…” Dean said wistfully, thinking back fondly to the memory of Sam throwing every bathroom product on hand at him upon seeing the state of his hair.

“Come on, Sam,” Eileen said playfully, wiggling her eyebrows at Dean whilst nudging at Sam’s elbow with her own. “Obviously, Dean had a… nice dream…”

Sam’s questioning frown quickly broke out into an amused grin, the two sporting similar expressions that they wielded against a quickly reddening Dean. “Ooohhhh… Was that it, Dean? Did you and Cas have a nice ‘talk’ about… y’know, recent events?”

“Shuddup,” Dean grumbled, shooting the two warning glares as he slammed his coffee cup atop the table.

‘You’re very adorable when you blush, Dean. I’ve always wanted to tell you that.’

‘You shut up too. You’re only going to make me blush more.’

‘All the more reason to keep complimenting you,’

“See, look!” Eileen exclaimed jovially to Sam, waving to Dean’s blank face. “He’s been awake, what, ten minutes? Can’t go more than ten minutes without Cas!”

“Actually, Cas was giving me tips on the way I can run over both your feet with my chair and make it seem like an accident.”

‘I did no such thing!’

“Damn Cas, and you want me to hide a bag of Miracle’s crap under their mattress? Now that’s just cruel.”

‘Don’t think I won’t take over your body to apologize, Dean. I’ll do it.’

“Yeah, sure Dean,” Sam’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he shot bitch face number twenty-eight at him. “I’m sure Cas was the one to come up with such childish ideas. I bet Cas has never played a practical joke in his life.”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s condescending tone, picking up his cup of coffee to take a sip. ‘Sam’s getting a little too cocky for my tastes…’

‘I find myself in one of those rare occasions where I agree with you. Although, he is correct I’ve never played a practical joke before. That being said, I now have a good idea of who my first victim will be…’

Dean snorted into the cup of coffee he held to his lips, wincing at the hot splash of coffee to his face whilst simultaneously choking on his own laughter. ‘Only if you promise I can help you. And nothing life-threatening or harmful. Well, nothing too harmful, anyway.’

‘I’m not sure if this is typical of most human’s first dates, but I’m more than happy to agree.’

‘Since when do we do anything the ‘typical way’, Cas?’

‘Good point.’

Sam shook his head with the beginnings of a pleased smile, accepting the box of tissues Eileen had gotten up to get and sliding them over to Dean. “Not sure if I wanna know what you guys are talking about…”

“Glad to see you guys are talking,” Eileen noted as she dropped back down into her chair. “Last we heard you talking to Cas, you uh… you didn’t seem on good terms.”

“All jokes aside, you guys did talk, right?”

Dean quickly mopped up the spilled coffee with a handful of tissues, tossing them into the bin underneath the table with a soft sigh. “Yeah, we talked… Turns out Sergei wasn’t lying. Cas’s grace is running out on its own.”

Eileen and Sam’s face dropped at the news, practically deflating at the table. “So… what does this mean?” Sam asked.

“Mean’s we’re running out of time,” Dean answered somberly, leaning forward to rest against the top of the table, pulling his cup of coffee closer to him.

“How long until…?”

“Few weeks. Month – at most.”

“Shit…” Sam mumbled, running a hand through his hair, glancing down at the papers in front of him. “That’s… not great.”

“No. It sure as hell ain't.” Dean said, finger tapping anxiously at the side of his cup. “I’m fresh out of ideas, and Cas…”

“What? What about Cas?” Eileen questioned.

“Let’s just say Cas don’t have much hope,” Dean answered. “He… he thinks we’re wasting our time here; doesn’t think there’s any way of doing this.”

“Yeah? Well, tell Cas to stop talking like an idiot, because we’re not giving up on him.” Sam said strongly, twisting one of the papers on the desk around before sliding it across to Dean.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, straightening back up as he plucked up the paper from the table.

“An idea,” Sam replied. “I was just thinking… do you remember back after… after what happened to mom, with… with Jack?”

Dean paled at the reminder, glancing up at Sam over the top of the paper. He nods his head.

“We had asked Rowena if there was something she could do to bring her back, remember?”

“Course I remember,” Dean answered dryly, dropping his gaze back down to the paper full of complicated-looking Latin. “Didn’t work. What came back was just…”

The realization struck Dean just as he was about to say it. “A shell…” That was exactly what they were looking for. A shell. A vessel. “But wait, it-,”

“It couldn’t support any life,” Sam answered grimly. “But then… Rowena had been working on the spell behind the scenes. And she succeeded. What you’re holding is the spell I used to bring Eileen’s body back, then put her soul into her body.”

“But-,” Eileen butted out before Dean’s hopeful expression could grow any bigger. “That’s kind of the problem we have. We had my soul to bring me back, to recreate my body. Cas… doesn’t have that.”

“Right,” Sam said. “If we tried to use this spell with Cas’s grace… Cas’s grace isn’t connected to Jimmy’s body. There’s nothing for it to rebuild on.”

“Okay…” Dean muttered, feeling a little disheartened. “So… what then? We can’t use it?”

“Well, I was thinking,” Sam begun, a little more excited this time. “It almost seems like we need a mix of the two spells. Brings back a body that can sustain life, but not one that requires a soul to be built upon.”

“And… how do we do that?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea. But I think I know who can.” Sam said, already standing up from the table. “We need to talk to the person who made the spells. Think we’re gonna have to summon the new Queen of Hell.”

* * *

Something about summoning always made Dean feel uneasy. Call it past trauma from previous crossroad deals, call it dealing with demons full stop, call it whatever. It didn’t matter if they personally knew the demon in question (which was something he never thought he’d say in his life), there was still something so… wrong about it. Which is good, he supposes. Perhaps something built into the soul that’s repulsed by the twisted one it’s summoning; a glimpse of what will happen to itself if accepting the deal proposed.

Dean eyed Sam as he finished setting up the candles atop the sigils they had hastily drawn onto the library table, the uneasiness he had already been feeling only heightening when Sam picked up his demon blade, holding his hand over the bowl of summoning ingredients, once more ready to bleed for Dean.

“Are you sure this is even going to work?” Dean asked before Sam could make the cut. “This is supposed to summon the king of hell, isn’t it?”

“Doubt summoning spells care much about gender equality, Dean.” Eileen retorted.

Dean sighed, scratching at his furrowed brow. “You know what I mean… Maybe the spell was specifically for Crowley. What if Rowena has a different spell? And what’s to say she’ll even bother showing up anyway?”

“We’re about to find out,” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “If not… we can always take another trip down to Hell.”

“You say that like it’s normal…” Eileen added under her breath.

Sam slides the blade across his palm, barely wincing at the familiar sting it brings. Another scar to add, a long tally both brothers shared. The burn worsens as he squeezes his hand into a fist, forcing out a trickle of blood that darkens the dry herbs within the bowl.

Sam picks up a box of matchsticks next to the bowl, sliding one out of the pack and quickly striking it against the side. A flame bursts into life atop the match, all three pairs of eyes in the room fixated on the little golden flickering tip.

“Et ad congregandum... eos coram… me…” The Latin drops off Sam’s tongue like it was his first language. The match drops along with his last word, the dry ingredients within the bowl setting aflame at the slightest contact with the match, shooting out a tall flame that had Sam stepping back from the bowl at the wave of heat that came with it.

The bunker was unnaturally quiet. Not the creak of the old pipes, or the whirring of old equipment, or the buzzing of electricity running through an ancient wiring system. All three of them were holding their breaths, scanning meticulously around the room for a flash of auburn hair and an unnaturally bright dress that only Rowena could pull off.

“Did… did you do it wrong?” Dean asks, wheeling over to the table and peering inside the burnt contents of the bowl.

“I don’t think so,” Sam replied, not sounding too sure of himself. “I followed the instructions…”

Eileen grabbed Sam’s hand as he peered down at the book on the table, busying herself with cleaning the wound as the two looked over the instructions. “Maybe we didn’t use enough of something?” She offered off-handedly as she began winding a roll of gauze around Sam’s hand, keeping it tight enough to restrict the blood flow, taping it down to his hand and making sure it was secure.

“Maybe…” Dean says, rubbing a hand across his mouth as he thinks. “Or maybe she just didn’t want to show up-,”

“Or maybe I was pondering over what mess you’re bringing me into this time.”

All three wheeled around (quite literally, in Dean’s case) at the unforgettable Scottish accent, greeted by the sight of a – thankfully – smiling Rowena as she stretched out on one of the chairs, a tumbler of whisky already in hand.

You know what they say… Like mother, like son….

“Hello, boys,” She greeted them brightly, eyes sliding over to Eileen who was – understandably – looking rather unsure. “And girls! Who’s this one?”

“A friend,” Eileen answered warily. “And I hope I can say the same of you… considering it’s your spell that brought me back.”

“Oh,” Rowena said brightly, glancing up to Sam. “You found it then? The spell?”

“More like Chuck led me to it…” Sam’s mouth twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. “But… yes.”

“Well-,” Rowena clapped her hands, making them startle somewhat at the harsh sound. “I’m always one for a wee bit of gossip and catch up, but I’m guessing you didn’t invite me here for a chat?”

Rowena’s gaze had dropped down to Dean as she said that, a surprisingly sympathetic look crossing the witches – demons…? Witch-demons-queen of hell’s face. “Firstly, I suppose I should offer my thanks for saving the world again. At least, I assume you have, since we’re all still here.”

“That’s… mostly thanks to you,” Sam said with a genuine smile of appreciation.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Samuel,” Rowena brushed him off. “And secondly… if you’re here to bargain with me for your legs Dean…”

“That’s not it,” Dean quickly corrected her. “It’s… it’s kind of complicated-,”

“Then I guess it’s something to do with the angel sitting pretty in your head?”

Dean’s mouth swung shut, taken aback by Rowena’s spot-on assessment of the situation.

“Oh yes – I can feel the disgustingly pure energy coming from you, Dean. I’d recognize grace anywhere… Question is: which one is it?”

Before Dean could ever answer, a look of dawning realization had passed over Rowena’s face. She peeled one of her manicured hands off her glass, pointing to all three of them as she counted. “One, two, three… We’re missing one, aren’t we?”

“Two,” Sam says. “We got Jack back, but uh… he’s kind of… God now? We haven’t seen him since we dealt with Chuck…”

Rowena stared blankly at Sam for a few moments. Her eyes flickered between the three of them, waiting for one to reveal the joke. At their serious faces, she raised her glass to her lips and drained the drink in one go, handling the fiery burn of the whisky like it was nothing. “Another God… this one a three-year-old child… what could go wrong?”

“World’s not ended yet,” Dean tried to stay optimistic.

“And what of Mr. Blue Eyes?” Rowena asked. “If I’m putting two and two together… he’s currently the one hitching a ride in your noggin?”

“For the time being. Which is kind of where we could use your help.”

Rowena sighs deeply, looking down drearily to the empty tumbler in her hands. “Come on then; tell me the story.”

“I… we lost Cas. He, uh… he kind of sacrificed himself.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow at him, her long red nails playing a plinking tune across the glass of her drink. “For what?”

Dean swallowed harshly. “For me.”

Rowena narrowed her eyes at him, glancing over to Sam and Eileen for a split second before her eyes settled back on Dean. She kept her focus there, leaning forward in her chair as she asked: “Did you fix it?”

“Huh?” Sam blurted out, unsure of the meaning of Rowena’s question. Because, after all, it wasn’t intended for him. Then again, even Dean seemed unsure of the meaning…

“Dean?” Rowena says his name in the scolding kind of tone you’d expect from a mother. “Did you fix it?”

“Oh…” Dean exclaims as the memory floods back; the two of them sat what felt like miles apart in Rowen’s throne room, unable to even look at one another as they received what – if Dean’s being honest with himself – was a much-needed counseling session from the Queen of Hell, of all people… “Yeah. Yeah, I’d say we fixed it.”

Rowena nodded appreciatively at that, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Did you finally figure out what fifth base was with him…?”

“Alright, let’s not go there,” Dean grumbled, annoyed to find he was blushing again. “Point is, I should be dead twice by this point if it weren’t for Cas. And that’s only over the span of these past two months.”

“So other than God… what else was trying to kill you?”

“Death herself,” Dean answered. “Cas stepped in… Summoned the Empty on a deal he didn’t tell us about.”

‘I’m sensing you’re still angry about that.’

“I see… And so Castiel here was taken to the Empty?” Rowena asked.

“Yep.”

“…And the second time?”

“It was… there was a bunch of vamps and…” Dean tried to describe his death in a way that didn’t sound as lame as it did in his head. “I kind of got shoved into a nail…”

Dean knew that look on Rowena’s face. That was the look of someone trying really, really hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“It was this big friggen’ rusty rebar or something, okay!” Dean threw up his hands as he answered. “One of the vamps got the upper hand on me and shoved me onto the damn thing; pipe went straight through my back and pinned me there.”

“Wow… I suppose that explains the new wheels…”

“Rather have these than the death that was coming,” Dean says. “Cas saved me. Again. When I prayed to him, he… he heard me.”

“You woke him up?” Rowena asks, sounding truly amazed by this revelation. “From the Empty?”

“I did,” Dean answers, a hint of a proud smile on his face. “And Cas dragged himself out of that place to get to me.”

“You could ring a bell and that angel of yours will crawl out of any dark crevice to get to you, Dean Winchester. He’s stubbornly loyal, and a damn fool for it.”

“What can I say? He’s a Winchester; willing to defy death itself to save the ones he loves.”

“One…”

“What was that?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing…” Rowena said dismissively in much too of a high-pitched, cheery voice for Dean to think it’s ‘nothing’. “So, your angel pulls off the impossible once more by escaping the Empty to get to you… and, since he’s in your head, I’m assuming you agreed to possession?”

“Yeah, I did. Like I said, I was dying, and Cas… Cas didn’t have his vessel.”

“The Empty kind of… destroyed it…” Sam added awkwardly to a puzzled looking Rowena. “Cas thinks it’s because he didn’t die like most angels. The Empty literally swallowed him whole; pulled him into the Empty as part of itself.”

“And now Cas’s grace is burning out,” Eileen added on too, feeling a tad bit guilty by how overwhelmed Rowena was looking at the influx of information. “It has been for a while, actually…”

“And that’s why we need your help,” Dean took over. “We can’t just throw Cas into a new body; he’s not strong enough to survive the transfer, and… he kind of has a connection to the old one. Can’t keep him with me either, coz once his grace runs out… well, it’s bad news all round.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what it is you’re asking of me…” Rowena sounded moments away from asking them where their nearest liquor cabinet was.

“We want to know if there’s a way to rebuild Cas’s old body.” Dean wheels himself closer to Rowena, well aware of the pleading tone his voice has taken up. “We’re running out of time, Rowena. Time, and options.”

“We thought maybe something could be done with the resurrection spell,” Sam nervously added on, scrambling for the papers of the spell sat atop the table and waving them in the air. “We were looking over them earlier, and it just… it seems likes a starting point maybe?”

Sam hurried over to Rowena with papers in hand, handing them back over to the witch look a schoolboy apprehensively handing in his work. Rowena accepted the papers being shoved into her free hand, tearing her eyes away from Dean’s desperate face to Sam’s frantic movements.

“Sort of like a mix between the two, actually,” Sam added on hurriedly. “You know, what with the first one not being able to support life without a soul, and the second one needing a soul, so if we-,”

“Sam…” Rowena said his name softly, stopping him from rambling on more. Dean hated that tone. He hated the unusual level of kindness coming from Rowena. Because he knows that’s the kind of tone you use in the hopes of softening the blow of what you’re about to say next.

“You can’t do this, can you?” Rowena’s eyes flicker over to Dean at his crushed words. Considering Rowena had attempted to kill both him and Cas in the past, on top of becoming Queen of Hell… the shine of sympathy in her eyes was surprisingly genuine.

“No, I can’t.”

“But-,” Sam tried, but was promptly stopped by Rowena’s raised hand.

“Angels are different. With Eileen here… her spirit was attached to her physical form. You had something to work with there, you see? The resurrection spell, it’s… it’s more like turning the spirit into flesh. With Castiel…”

“We’ve only got his grace,” Dean says, sinking down into his chair as the realization they’ve met another dead end begins to sink in.

“Which isn’t connected to his vessel,” Rowena continues off Dean’s words. “If we tried messing around with his grace… who knows what could happen? It has nothing to rebuild upon. We could easily end up simply stripping Castiel of the remainder of his grace, and with how volatile an angel's grace can be… we may accidentally turn it into a weapon.”

Rowena stands from her chair, meekly offering the papers of the resurrection spell back to Sam. Sam looks to the papers, shoulders drooped and head hung low as he takes them back.

“I really am sorry, boys,” Rowena tells them, patting Sam’s arm as she glances down to Dean. “If I hear something different… if you find anything in the Book of the Damned, then… you know how to call me. But the truth of the matter is I simply don’t have much experience with angels. And even if I did… I don’t even know how that could help with this matter.”

Dean’s thankful smile comes out more strained than he intended, the effort of forcing his face into one dampened by his crushed spirit. “Well… thanks for showing up, anyway. At least now we know, y’know… you can’t help; so that’s crossed off the list…”

“When you said you didn’t have much time… how much did you-,”

“Not enough,” Dean says with a slight shake of his head.

Rowena dropped her hand down so her fingers were just lightly brushing against the top of Dean’s shoulder. The touch was oddly mother-like, and it had Dean scrunching his eyes shut as he tries to push down the despair that was threatening to rear its ugly head.

“I’m sorry,” Rowena says quietly, as if only to him. It seemed like the final nail in the coffin. Like.. this was it; Cas was right… They couldn’t bring his body back. His grace was going to burn out. He’ll have to force Cas out. He’ll have to say goodbye, again, but now it’s different – now he knows he loves him, now Cas know he loves him, and…

He can’t do this.

“Good luck, boys,” Rowena drawls out, the comforting touch on Dean’s shoulder slipping away. Her eyes drift over to meet Eileen’s, the smallest of a smile twitching at her lips. “And girls… I think you’re going to need it.”

And then, she was gone.

And the last of their hope seemed to go with her.

“That’s that, I guess,” Dean says, staring vacantly at the spot where Rowena was moments ago.

The pitter-patter of paws signals Miracle’s arrival, emerging from her hiding spot now the stranger had left. She makes a bee-line for Dean, slinking over to his wheelchair and resting her head in his lap. It’s able to pull the smallest of smiles from Dean, rubbing underneath her ears and brushing his hands through her thick fur. “Cas was right… you are able to sense a lot of stuff, huh?”

“Dean…” Sam steps away from Eileen’s side. “I’m sorry…”

Dean’s face twists into an amused frown, glancing up to his brother’s guilt-ridden face. “What’s there to be sorry for?”

“Getting your hopes up, I suppose. You… you seemed really invested in this idea too, you know? And I… I don’t know, I guess I’m just sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, well… couldn’t be that easy, could it? Would have been too good to be true…”

“There’s something I didn’t tell you.”

Dean freezes at Sam’s confession, getting an unhappy whine from Miracle that the scritches had stopped.

“Something I remembered, right before we summoned Rowena. Even if she could help with the spell… I don’t think it would have worked either way.”

“What are you talking about?” Eileen asks, tugging at Sam’s arm to get his attention. “The spell worked with me, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s… kind of the point,” Sam replied with somewhat of a wince. “Those witches? Back when I was working on the spell? That woman warned me, said that Billie would catch onto what we had done and close the loophole. And yeah, I know Billie’s dead now, but… the new Death - whoever they are - isn’t exactly going to let it slide, either. She made it sound like a one-time thing. And… we used it.”

“Hey, no, it’s a good thing you brought the idea up,” Dean insisted. “If it turned out it could have worked, and we didn’t even bother to try it because you didn’t want to bring it up? That would have been so much worse.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Sam mutters, throwing the papers down onto the table. He brushes his hand across his mouth, letting his eyes slide closed with a deep sigh. “There’s gotta be something else. Something hidden in all these files, otherwise I… I don’t know what to do…”

“We’ll find something,” Eileen said, sensing the need for some sense of optimism. Of hope. “We’ve got to look for an answer to find one, right?”

Dean smiled appreciatively up at Eileen. It didn’t feel real. He’s fairly certain Eileen knew it wasn’t real, either.

“Yeah…” He mumbles. He had never craved a drink more in his life. “Sure… let’s find a way…”

He wasn’t sure if Cas’s silence in his head was one of joint hopelessness; or if, perhaps, he didn’t truly believe there was no answer until he heard Dean himself begin to give up.

* * *

Castiel found himself stepping into Dean’s bar once more.

This time… there was something different about it. There was no soft music playing from the jukebox – which was switched off, it’s colorful flashing lights left blank and empty. The soft amber glow of the overhead lights were also switched off - bar from one - leaving the bar in a cold and unwelcoming atmosphere. Only one light was lit, aimed at a sullen-looking Dean Winchester sat upon a bar stool in the corner of the room. There was no beaming smile like there was last time, replaced with an empty expression as he leaned back against the corner wall with… a guitar?

In Dean’s hands was a beautiful spruce acoustic, his fingers expertly switching between the six strings. He plucked them quietly, invoking a gentle and solemn sounding sound from the wooden instrument atop his lap. Though, his gaze was not fixated on his fingers as they danced across the fretboard as was expected. His eyes were pointed down towards the laminated wooden panels of the floor, staring without seeing as he played a song that Castiel faintly recognized, though the name wasn’t coming to him.

“I didn’t know you could play?” Castiel finds it almost criminal to interrupt the beautiful melody Dean was creating.

“I don’t. Not really,” Dean replies, not even a hesitation in his playing. “At least, I haven’t actually played in a long time. Comes easy in my dreams, though.”

Castiel pulls out one of the stools from the bar, dropping it a few steps away from Dean. He takes a seat on the comfortable cushion, content to watch Dean as he plays. “When did you learn?”

“You, uh… you remember when I told you about Sonny’s? That time when Dad was out on a hunt, and I got caught stealing food?”

“You mean when your father abandoned you at a young age, leaving you to fend for both yourself and your brother to the point you were forced to steal to feed yourselves?”

Dean’s fingers did stumble this time, slamming his hands against the strings to mute the obnoxiously loud and screeching note. Usually, he would be up in arms at this point; would tell whoever that it was all his fault, he should have been better prepared for looking after Sammy, that he should have known what to do if Dad was out on a hunt longer than usual… but looking at Castiel’s furious face, knowing such anger wasn’t aimed at him, rather on his behalf… He decided he was tired of making excuses for John.

“Yeah… yeah, when that happened,” Dean gritted out, letting himself feel the anger he should have felt all those years ago. “Kept telling myself that it was only temporary, y’know? That dad would get back, get Sammy and come get me. But then… God, Cas – I was shit scared of what he’d do when he found out. If he knew that I had messed up, got myself caught and left Sammy all alone…”

“Guess we both got too much respect for our dads, huh?” Dean tried to joke, but it fell flat. “You gotta admit that God was more of a disappointment than my dad though, right?”

“The fact that your father is slightly better than an absentee and destructive God isn’t an achievement, Dean.”

Dean stared at Castiel for a few seconds before nodding. “Alright, you got me there.”

Dean resumed his playing, the gentle tune of the guitar helping to soothe the tension brought on by the mention of John. “There was this girl there… her name was Robin. She came round every now and then to give guitar lessons. I, uh… I was kind of infatuated with her…”

Castiel smiled fondly at that, cocking his head to the side as he waited for Dean to elaborate.

“Shut up…” Dean grumbled, hiding his own smile at the knowing one planted across Cas’s face. “Didn’t care for it much originally, coz it was just a way to hang out with her, you know? But after a while… I dunno, something just clicked. I started to enjoy it.”

“Why didn’t you keep playing?” Castiel asked.

Dean laughed humorlessly, resting his chin on the top of the guitar. “How would I, Cas? You think Dad would have splurged out on a guitar for me? Bring it with us everywhere we go? He’d probably have just scolded me for wasting my time on a ‘useless skill’ when I could be learning something important.”

Castiel had many more words on the subject of John Winchester and his treatment of his kids, but wisely kept them quiet for now. “What about once you settled down in the bunker? You could have then?”

“Eh, I guess so. We’ve always been busy with everything, so… Guess I never really bothered. Plus I’m pretty damn sure my dream guitar playing skills won’t translate well to real-life…”

“Might be a good hobby to pick back up,” Castiel tells him, reaching out to run a hand down the smooth wooden surface of the guitar with the backs of his fingers. “It would be nice to hear you play for me when…”

Dean’s eyes shoot up to Cas as his voice trailed off, the small content smile playing on his face slipping away. He didn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence. It was the issue they had been skirting around ever since they had stepped into his dream.

For when we get me back.

Dean sighed, lifting his head from the guitar and sliding it off his lap, leaning it carefully against the side of the bar next to him. Castiel’s eyes followed him as he stood from the barstool, brushing off non-existent dust from his jeans in what was more of a gesture of habit than anything. Dean’s arms found themselves tugging at Castiel’s arm to get him to stand, answering Castiel’s inquisitive frown with an easy smile.

Castiel followed Dean’s tugs, letting a smile creep onto his face as Dean’s hand slips down to his own, fingers intertwining with his in a perfect fit. “What are you-,” Is all Castiel could ask before Dean had grabbed hold of his other hand and placed it on his hip, separating their joined hands to place his on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel followed suit, placing his free hand on top of Dean’s shoulder, his other firmly holding Dean’s waist. Dean took his hands off Cas briefly to snap his fingers, smile widening as an absolute classic (at least, in Dean’s opinion) drifted out from the speakers of the jukebox, the old machine blinking to life with Dean’s influence.

It was downright crazy to Dean how much had changed in such a short amount of time. Not too long ago, he was right here with Cas, doing this exact same thing. It was just as heart-skippingly nerve-wracking as it was the last time, but now… now they were a hair-width away from being chest to chest, swaying together on the spot to the calming music as opposed to the more spacious, somewhat awkward half-step dance as before.

And this time… Dean took in the loving smile that was being directed at him, and he could say that now. That look Castiel had reserved just for him was one of love, and the fact that it’s for him? It’s mindboggling, it’s more than he could ever deserve – and the best part? He can love him back. He can lean down, remove that few inches of space between them, and press his lips to Cas. He can do that now, and if that can’t get a smile out of him, then what will?

“Wherever you go…” Dean’s voice is raspy, and yet gentle as he sings to Castiel, sung in a hushed tone in the peaceful space between then. “Whatever you do. I will be right here waiting for you…”

Dean would be blind to say the soft smile on Cas’s face didn’t have a twinge of sadness to it at his words, his grip on Dean’s hip and shoulder tightening as he sang. He had been planning to be… well, to be Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester that would be all jokey with Castiel in a moment like this, singing a mopey love song in a ‘stereotypical trashed forty-year-old guy at karaoke’ voice to try and get a laugh out of him. Now, as they held each other in the dim lights of the bar… that version of himself had been sedated.

“I really thought we’d found the answer,” Dean says, one of his hands slipping up Cas’s neck, his thumb gently brushing over his pulse point. “That Rowena would be able to do something. But now it all feels like… like it was the last chance… Now I’ve got no more ideas, and I don’t know what to do, Cas. I don’t know how to save you, I-,”

Dean closes his eyes at the burning he felt building, causing a tear to slip out from under his closed eyelid. He shakes his head at the choking sensation in his throat, pulling Cas forward by his neck until their foreheads met. There they both stood, eyes closed as they swayed to their own music, comforted by the warmth of each other held so close.

“I know…” Castiel’s words were meant to be one of assurance, but they were more like sympathy. Building upon the fact that he had long since accepted his fate. Which is perhaps why a few more tears escape Dean’s closed lids, trailing down his cheek, clung to his skin as a painful reminder of why they were there.

“I don’t want to lose you…” Dean’s whisper is broken and harsh, the voice of a man fighting hard to keep the tears out of his voice.

The sound is enough for the dam in Castiel to break, the last of the angel's defenses crumbling down at the raw pain he could hear from the one he loves. “And I don’t want to leave you,” Castiel whispers against his lips, tasting the salt of Dean’s tears as he places a delicate kiss there. “But there’s not much else we can do now than what we’re already doing, and… to hope.”

And so, in the silence of Dean’s bar, Dean holds Castiel tight. He lets his angel hold him just as close, sharing their mutual grief over what could have been, of the time they could have spent together.

They dance.

And they hope. They hope that this dance won't be their last.

Next Chapter - - ->

#destiel fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fix it #fix it #fix it fic #castiel/dean winchester #Dean Winchester/Castiel #casdean #cas/dean #dean/cas #supernatural spoilers #season 15 spoilers #fluff #angst

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tradeway2 · 3 years

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Session 1 10 Jul 2021

We start a little later than usual today as our illustrious DM has been working hard to provide a game from scratch for us this week!

We were asked to provide him with a name, race, sub-race, and a class if we wanted to. We were not asked to draw up character sheets or determine stats and so on, and it’s been driving us (all now at least somewhat seasoned D&D players) up the wall. Matthew hops on to the chat after Joe drops the link to the game, to ask us not to open our character sheets if we sign in early. Duncan tells us he has emphasised this casual torture by having not even read the rules for his class; he likes to live on the edge.

When we sign in, we are greeted with this calming landing page (we know it's calming, because Matthew tells us it is):

Ah. Well that’s alright then.

We are told this campaign could last ten minutes or the rest of our lives; Matthew is hoping for somewhere in the middle. We have some technical issues - as is to be expected. Roll20 is a steep learning curve. One might even call it a wall.

We’re told that this entire fiasco is based off a spoof tv show that Matthew saw late at night once and thought it would be fun to base a one-shot on. Then it got out of hand, and now has the potential to become a full campaign. Here's hoping! Without further ado, we dive in…

Cora (Ishara) stands beside a crossroads. There is a sundial at its centre; she sees the shadow pass over its face. An elven merchant passes, cart laden with water jugs. She waves, but her face is a picture of fury. The sundial's shadow disappears - it is midday. Another elven merchant passes, this one with a cart of food. She also waves, but she is in floods of tears. The sundial shows that dusk is approaching. A third elven merchant passes, with a cart full of empty glass jars. She laughs hysterically as she passes by, waving as she goes.

Night falls and the moon rises. A fourth merchant approaches, but this one does not wave. Her face is blank as she walks toward Cora - she drops a bunch of snapdragons at Cora's feet and continues walking. Cora picks the flowers up and admires them; half the bunch withers and dies, and the other half grows to twice its size. She drops them to the ground; as the new roots touch it, the earth collapses beneath her -

She awakens, to see Leslie:

He tells her he doesn’t know who she is, but she shouldn’t be sleeping here.

We all awake now, in what appears to be the ruins of a battlefield.

We are all zombies.

Huh.

We see each other as friends; in fact the word 'zombie' in Friend means 'friend'. We know this, because as it turns out, we all speak Friend.

But not Common. Hmm.

Leslie tells us his name and asks why we’re sleeping here?

We roll History checks to see if we remember anything; that will be hard for Marcus who has -3 INT.

Pilfer remembers his name, and something about a boat, and nothing else. No idea where he is or why, or who his new friends are. Ren knows that this is definitely his lute. He takes it. Will he remember how to play it?

Hilda remembers nothing about how she got here, but she remembers fighting in a war. A big one. It was important; significant to her. Marcus remembers little more than Ren. That’s definitely his rucksack, though. Milo knows something is missing but he can’t figure out what. Cora remembers her dream. There was a risk that she wouldn’t. She’s told it didn’t feel like her dream, even though she was dreaming it.

We heard voice from behind a wall saying, “Friends? Friends!” Leslie rolls his eyes.

Cora goes to the wall to see if she can lend aid to the owner of the voice. It is coming from very close to Hilda. Should she do something about it? Where are we?

Hilda rolls a nat 20 for her Perception check. (Fun new house rule: if we are using a skill or tool and roll a nat20, we gain Proficiency - ooo!)

It is carnage around us. A huge fight has happened here. Imagine the biggest battle from the LotR movies - what we see laid out before us makes that look like a boundary dispute between neighbours.

Does Ren feel peckish when he looks at the bodies? It looks like food, but food has this habit of moving around; once it stops doing that, it’s bad food. We are all aware of this; what we're looking at is No Longer Food.

There are old fires and signs of burns on the ground. Amongst all this we hear the bewildered, friendly voice again asking for help. It’s coming from the remains of a building that has been destroyed by fire or magic or something of that ilk.

Hilda goes to investigate, and Pilfer goes to look as well. It turns out Matthew meant to put us on a different map, but we have been looking at the crossroads this whole time. Whoops! We switch to the map. Technical issues, please stand by…

(Matthew, direct quote: “JOE! Make it better, help!”

Joe helps, and makes it better. We continue… )

Ren has a go at tuning his lute. He makes a Performance check. an 8! We are all suitably distracted.

The voice calls again. “Friends?”

Where is this voice, and whose is it?

Leslie introduces himself again, rather pointedly probably, and we all introduce ourselves this time. Leslie seems particularly enamoured by Milo. The voice asks us what are we going to call him?

Pilfer suggests Bingo; Bingo likes that so that’s his name now. Pilfer asks how long he’s been here? He heard us get up and before that it was dark, but before that it was quite bright. Before that it was dark, and before that it was bright. Before that there was a lot of angry people, and there was a lot of food, and now the food’s all gone. He tried to leave, but he couldn’t.

Pilfer - formerly a drow elf - is dismayed to discover that it is daytime. He panics until he finds his parasol.

Ren gets a nat20 - he now has proficiency in Investigation! (There is a limit to the number of these bonuses we can receive, we are warned.) He and Marcus and Hilda all see Bingo's problem. Pilfer, however, has got lost in Bingo’s eyes again. He’s a good looking fella.

“Would that we had met before the rot set in!”

Milo gets distracted when some food shouts at him from over the bridge - it then pegs it away. Milo wants to follow, but we are all Slow (-10feet). The food disappears into the trees. He is disappointed, and hungry. He sits on a bit of broken bridge and sulks; Leslie joins him. He offers to help him look for some more food.

Bingo is pinned in place with a spear through his sternum - he’s upright, and the spear is piercing him from above. Can we pull it out? Or him out? Marcus has a go at pulling him by the hands - and manages to get Bingo off the spear with a 19 STR check. Bingo is very pleased. Ren asks if he wants the spear back; Bingo says it’s not his. Ren takes it instead, and adds it to his inventory. He has two now.

Bingo says he’s going to find the horde.

Us, politely confused: "The what?"

The horde! It’s the best! We should totally join him.

Leslie pats Milo on the back and tells him not to be disheartened. We’ll find some food. We suspend our disbelief while Matthew puts some food on the map that we didn’t notice sneaking up on us…

Ren rolls another nat20, getting proficiency with Perception. Thanks to Milo’s alertness, the food doesn’t get the drop on him either. Pilfer’s stomach rumbles, and we roll initiative. (Marcus gets five XP for helping Bingo off the spear!)

Noticing that we appear to have noticed them, the food closest to us appears to be carrying a stick. Uh oh… Food uses tools, this is the thing we learn first. The first food seems reluctant to move towards us, so it holds an action.

Cora is up first. She shambles 20 feet, and uses her action to dash twenty more feet and gets right up to some food and zombie-groans in its ear.

Milo remembers different food, food that you have to sneak up on, so he has a go at that. He rolls a Bad stealth check, and uses all fifteen of his feet, loudly announcing what he is doing to Leslie as he goes.

A food bonks Cora on the head with a stick for 15 to hit, which does, for 2 bludgeoning damage. Another food advances towards us - he’s wobbling his arm and pointing to the food that bonked Cora on the head.

Marcus shamble-dashes toward Cora, upsetting the food that she’s in melee with. Another food tries to hit him, but misses. Marcus consoles it.

Pilfer moves forward. Can he throw a dagger? Yes he can. He hucks his knife at a food. 21 to hit! Right in the shanks. 3 piercing damage! He did not get the food in the shanks; he got it in the neck.

He feels a weird urge to snack. All the other foods look very unnerved at this development. The food isn’t quite dead, but clutching its neck with blood pouring through its fingers and making an agonized squealing noise.

Pilfer: “... Is he okay?”

Hilda waddles up to another food, the one that lurched forward at us. She gives it a smash with her greatclub for 13 to hit.

Matthew kicks himself out of the game. We won!

Moving on…

Hilda’s attack hits, for 9 bludgeoning damage. She destroys the food. Can she still eat it? As a bonus action she eats some of the food, before it spoils. (Matthew moves the token to get it out of the way. Hilda, aggrieved: “I was eating that!”)

Ren’s turn. He swings the lute around, remembering that a lute is a useful thing to have; he can’t remember what to do with it so he swings it back out of the way and gets his spear instead. He stabs at the food in front of him. He spears it successfully and goes to town before it spoils. “Yum yum.” He says grace, which sounds like a beautiful prayer to us, and like hideous gurgling to the food.

Another food rushes at Hilda, seeing the thing she just done. It natty 20s her, but the damage is only 4.

Cora swings her mace at the food in front of her, to get to the juicy filling. 11 to hit, which does, and 3 bludgeoning damage. She’s tenderised it good; that’ll melt in the mouth, that will. Fall right off the bone.

Milo has heard all this going on; he goes back up and throws a javelin at the food attacking Hilda. He crit-fails. Whoops! He gears up and swings, and throws the javelin in completely the wrong direction. He looks at Leslie, who shrugs.

"I'd have thrown that over there, if I were you."

Leslie moves up, and old Bingo’s gonna get in the game as well. (Matthew forgot to roll initiative for them on the first round. He puts them in the turn order; better odds for us, yeah!)

Cora’s food tries to hit her again, but misses. There must be delicious sauce in its eyes.

Marcus batters the food in front of him with a slam attack, not realising there’s a quarterstaff on his back that he could use. He hits and kills the food, and goes to town. It turns out that that was Pilfer’s food; he retrieves his dagger and stops for a little nibble. A fistful of the insidey-bits is a great snack-on-the-go. He has enough movement to flank another food, so he does that, and makes a slam attack against it. He has prepared another meal!

Hilda’s turn, and the meals around her are in full swing; she uses both her action and her bonus action to snack on two different foods.

(Ed, OOC: “Is it bad that this game is making me hungry?”)

Ren too decides to feast on the 'horrible visceral tapas' that surrounds him. (We are adjusting swiftly to our new circumstance.)

Cora has another go at the pudding with a slam attack, hits the wrong button, finds the right one, and hits that for 13 damage which makes contact. 8 bludgeoning! She has prepared the heck out of that meal by swinging at the head and taking it clean off.

We are out of initiative! Pilfer waves a bit of meat at Bingo and invites him to join us. Milo seasons his own meal with the spices in his bag and even washes his hands, remembering that that’s important to do before eating. Pilfer empties his waterskin and fills it with blood. If he shakes it every now and again it’ll be fine.

It turns out that our meal doesn’t seem appetising for very long, and we quickly realise that our food has spoiled.

We roll Perception checks, at Disadvantage because we’re eating. Leslie doesn’t seem interested in the food.

Pilfer asks him what’s up, why isn’t he chowing down with the rest of us? He’s eating his own meal, he hints. Ren would love to Investigate Leslie. There seem to be bits of plant coming out of wounds or open sores on his body; he catches Ren looking and explains that although he’s a Friend, he eats it a bit differently. Over a period of time. We aren’t really talking to the person-suit, we’re talking to the plant inside the body. He uses the food to get around a bit more easily. And he can eat it even though it’s gone grey. The word he uses is 'compost'.

But, he assures us, we are all Friends here.

Fair dos. So, to the horde then?

Bingo looks really excited at this. Do we know where the horde is, he asks us?

"... We don’t even know what the horde is."

If we want to know who and what we are, Leslie might know someone who knows someone…?

There is a gnawing in the back of our heads (not worms); maybe we might want to know more about ourselves than just our names. (Which - it's odd that we even know our names. That's certainly more than Bingo knew.) Hilda thinks we might not want to know; we might upset ourselves.

We can follow Bingo to the horde. Or we could go with Leslie and take Bingo with us, and do horde stuff later? We’re full now, and all the food has gone bad, so we may as well follow Leslie. We get 15 XP for eating all that food.

We walk through the battlefield and the heaps of spoiled food. Occasionally we hear shouting in the distance:

Random friend: “Friend? Friend!”

Bingo, shouting back: “I’m called Bingo!”

New Bingo: “Oh, wow! Can I be called Bingo?”

Bingo Prime: “Sure!”

(Ed returns from the kitchen with snacks, very confused to arrive back in the middle of this.)

We shuffle along with Leslie. There are a lot of Bingos about, after a while. It starts to get dark. Ren remembers he has a tail. Leslie turns to us and says he once inhabited a food with a tail. It wasn’t a grippy one, but it was quite furry. He doesn’t know what you’d call it, but it was quite entertaining to see the looks on the other foods' faces.

Leslie doesn’t like to travel overnight, so we sit down in a little sitting around circle. His eyes aren’t good in the dark. Do we feel tired…? We don’t need to sleep, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t. Every so often we hear the little Bingo exchange in the distance. (We’re going to regret this.)

We roll INT checks at Disadvantage - Marcus rolls a 16. Maybe it’s a faded memory, but he is pretty certain he remembers going to sleep in a similar situation, and one person stayed awake. He suggests to the others that one of us should stay awake; most of them don't seem to follow his train of thought. He remains awake and so does Milo; Ren paces in circles until he gets bored.

Those of the group that try to sleep, give it a go. They don’t dream exactly. Those that stay awake still get the benefits of a long rest. Yay!

(We break for tea and cigarettes and whatnot.)

Bingo lies down, seeing some of us do that, and asks what we’re doing. Those of us that stay awake roll Perception checks.

While Matthew’s computer reboots, he tells Cora about her dream.

She stands in a familiar room; the bookshelves around her are laden with ancient texts. She notices that there is no door. She starts to feel anxious. Music sounds, from a hearth that wasn't there a moment ago. There is a music box open on the stone floor. She kneels down and closes the lid, and finds herself standing in a field. Her anxiety fades to contentment as she stands in the short, but lush, green grass. About a hundred feet away, a large black stag with eyes of fire begins to charge her. She begins to float, and the stag passes harmlessly beneath her. She flies over the treetops. Behind her she sees a triangle of ravens flying in her wake. She lands, surrounded by friends and safe, and the ravens continue on.

Marcus and Milo stayed awake; Marcus was distracted, wondering what the twinkly in the sky lights do and if anyone will ever walk on the surface of one, that kind of thing. Milo sees figures that appear to be advancing towards us. Uh oh!

Is it friends or food? Milo thinks it’s almost definitely food. It did not introduce itself as Bingo. Milo alerts us all that our delivery has arrived, and we roll initiative.

Cora goes first. She nobbles one with her mace and a nat 20 for 7 bludgeoning damage. She sees some sauce come out.

Marcus Slams another one; he makes a dent in it. (He still hasn’t realised he has a quarterstaff.)

A guard attacks Hilda with a spear. Hilda, sounding mildly inconvenienced: “Nooo!” 13 hits. Things are getting a little more real. She takes 6 piercing damage and is quite poorly.

Milo wants to know if this food is human sized; it is. He shambles into one and does a slam at it, and has a go at chomping off a couple of crunchy fingers. 18 hits. Milo, extremely pleased: “Delicious!” 8 chomping damage, and he comes away with some delicious bits of food. If this guy was planning on using his spear two handed, he may have to re-think his strategy.

Leslie’s turn. He makes it quite a way out to his chosen food, but his attack misses. The food next to Cora has a go at clobbering her with a 9 - which misses.

Pilfer’s turn, and he zips down toward another food to whale on it. He rolls a dirty 20 and slams him good, also doing max damage.

Hilda's turn! 15 with her club just misses, and she’s very annoyed about it. As a bonus action she wants to still try and have a chomp, but nothing happens.

The food fighting with Marcus fails to hit him, as does the one with Leslie. Milo’s food natty 20s him for 13 damage, and he’s down. Oh no! He rolls a good CON save and pops back with 1 HP.

Another food attacks Bingo and another attacks Pilfer but misses. Ren shambles across to help our good friend Bingo by poking the food with his spear, hitting for 4.

Bingo does a slam on the food as well, but misses. Marcus misses his attack; he is marinading it in its sauce, he says. Squeezing it like a mango to check for ripeness.

Cora rolls an 18 with her mace, and 3 bludgeoning. The food looks nearly ready. She falls upon it and has a chew. (Matthew: “Gross. I like it.”)

15 hits Marcus for 7 spikin’ in the tummy. No worries; he's got four more spikin' in the tummy left. Milo’s next slam hits, doing 6 points of munching damage, eating it to the point of perfection. It runs around screaming with a little halfling zombi- friend, attached to it first; Milo sets about feasting when it lies down and stops moving.

Leslie does an attack, and prepares another meal as Matthew plays D&D by himself. Pilfer has another attack - a 15 just misses. “Curse you!”

Hilda has another go with her great club for a 17, and 10 bludgeoning damage. Her food went from raw to almost perfect in one hit. It’s still moving about a bit, but in a much more ‘ready to be food’ fashion.

Ren’s food swings at him and misses. Ren, put out: “The food's just playing with me. It's supposed to be the other way around, right?”

Pilfer’s food fumbles at him and hits, and he’s none too pleased about it. He takes two HP damage when his food pokes him. “How dare it! I’m getting pre-eating indigestion, somehow.”

Ren does another poke with his spear. “Stop moving around! It makes it harder to bite you!” Six misses, unfortunately.

Hilda’s food attacks her for 14, which hits for 5 damage and she’s down. She rolls a CON save, but fails. She is at 0HP. She will be rolling undeath saves, oh no!

Bingo slams his food and misses. Marcus prepares his food with a crunch, and begins chomping.

Cora would like to kneecap her food so it can’t escape. The kneecaps are one of the best bits. 7 damage to the food (not Marcus!) and begins to chomp as well.

Milo’s meal is going down a treat, but he notices that Hilda appears to be lying down even though her food is standing up. Is her food trying to eat her? He’s not having this; Friends are not Food! He slings his javelin at Hilda’s food. The javelin hits, and he gives it a good dressing down. “Rude!”

We don’t understand it, but the remaining food is very distressed. If we could understand the food, we'd hear it saying, “Oh my God, they’re using tools!”

Leslie dashes at full pelt, but doesn’t get far. He looks puffed out; or he would if there was breath in his body.

Pilfer slams his food for a nat20. “YES! YES! What’s that mean, do I roll damage twice? Yes! YES! Look at all that damage. Yes! I bludgeon him to the floor, I eat him.”

Hilda rolls an undeath save: a 17, yay!

The last guard takes his turn. Looking around him he realises he’s in trouble, so he legs it. Wait - Ren is still struggling with a live one, and the guard isn’t going to abandon his mate. He runs up to Ren and gives him a bit of a poke - 12 just hits him. He takes 4 points of being stabbed. However -

It is now his turn. The food that he’s stabbed looks closer to edible than the newly arrived food. He stirs his spear around in it for 23, and 6 piercing damage. His food is well prepped and looking delicious.

Bingo hasn’t had much luck prying open the last one, so he has a go at Ren’s new arrival but misses. It’s been a long day.

While Marcus is shovelling stuff into his mouth, he notices that Hilda is down. Upon seeing her, his rotting brain supplies “…food?” But he remembers that’s not right. He shuffles over and pokes her with a Medicine check of 9; he can’t figure out why she’s lying down. Yelling “Get up!” doesn’t seem to do anything.

Cora shambles over to the two of them with a handful of brain pudding, and attempts to feed it to Hilda. She rolls a Medicine check - another 9. On the plus side, it’s not like she can choke her to death.

Milo has just eaten a whole hand, so he comes over for a poke at Hilda as well. He snaps off a finger from his food and tries to poke it into her mouth. It works! He’s very pleased. This feels familiar to him.

Leslie pats still-unconscious Hilda on the head. In broad Gloucestershire accent: “There there.”

Pilfer proceeds to his second course. A dirty 20 for 6 bludgeoning, hitting it so hard on the top of the head that its neck disappears into its chest. The guard returns in kind - 9 to hit, which misses.

the guard looks worried as he looks around. “… Fuck.” We, of course, do not understand him.

Ren gets confused and tries to stab his food with his lute, but misses. Bingo misses again. It’s a wonder he’s survived this long.

Marcus natty 20s the last food, for 11 HP. "That's as many hit points as I have on a good day!"

DM: "That's as many hit points as he started with."

While we wait for Hilda to wake up, we can search for loot! Or lute! Who knows!

We leave it there, and Matthew will tell us what treasures we find on our respective food. Pilfer makes a prawn cocktail with gizzards.

#dnd #campaign diary #tradeway2

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hanawrites404 · 4 years

Text

You Can't Hurry Love

Show : Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Jojo No Kimou Na Bouken

Pairing : Hints of Jotaro Kujo/Noriaki Kakyoin, Joseph Joestar/Caesar Antonio Zeppeli and Jonita Joestar Brando/Dio Brando

Warnings : Mild Homophobia and swearing

Characters : Jonita Joestar Brando (OC), Holly Kujo, Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki Kakyoin, Joseph Joestar, Mrs. Kakyoin (Noriaki's Mother)

Timeline : Pre-Stardust Crusaders

This story is based on this song :

And this story is also based on the author's dream when she was sleeping in the afternoon after studying physics.

Also, here is a link if you don't know who Jonita is

Third Person POV

It was morning in Japan, winter was about to end and trees were slowly recovering after shedding their withered leaves by growing lush green ones in their place. Innocent birds awakened by the first rays of the sun started chirping their favourite song, the fellow humans waking up to their melodious vocals. Well, except for one.

"Jonita-san~!! Wake up, it's eight already!!" the lady of the Kujo's residence yelled from the kitchen. The lady had her favourite apron on and was making breakfast, her golden hair tied in a loose bun and her hands working skillfully as she prepared the morning delicacies.

The one who was known as Jonita, though sleeping in the room two doors away from the kitchen, heard the lady clearly, but all she replied to it was a groan and a snort, and she let her head down abruptly onto the pillow and fell asleep once again.

"Jonita san~~!!" The blonde lady called her once more, but still the sleepy-head gave no response. The lady then sighed and shook her head. Though it had been 3 days Jonita came to stay in Japan, she still wasn't used to her sleeping schedule.

The lady had already given up on waking the stubborn girl up, until a young boy ran with his sock-clad, little feet into the girl's room. He giggled, and sat beside her head, and started to ruffle the sleepy girl's violet locks with his little hands, which finally made the girl slowly open one of her eye and smile at the boy.

"Good morning Jotaro" she said sleepily. "Morning Jojo!!" the boy named Jotaro giggled once more. Jonita grinned and got up from the futon, fully awaken, and sat cross-legged. She then lifted Jotaro up and made him sit on her thigh.

"Did you sleep well, Joot??" she asked the child as she caressed his soft raven locks. "Yeah I did, and I dreamt of the ocean" Jotaro replied with a certain pride in his tone.

"Again?? You really seem to love the ocean, huh??". Jotaro grinned and nodded vigorously. Jonita giggled and ruffled his hair.

"What about you Jojo?? What did you dream of??". "I dreamt of my children. All of them were playing in the garden while me and my husband were having a picnic under a huge tree as we watched our children having a good time. I wish it comes true one day" Jonita ruminated.

"Hmmm......Well, thinking of dreams is making me feel hungry. I bet Mama has made something good today". "Boy, she always does. Holly's cooking is worth dying for".

Jotaro then got off Jonita's thigh and quickly ran towards the kitchen to get the bulletins of today's breakfast menu. Jonita then stood up and folded her futon, remembering how Holly taught her to do so. She then stretched herself and started to get ready for today.

After she had changed from her pyjamas to purple track pants and red full-sleeve cropped hoodie and combed her hair nicely to let it down, she then made her way to the dining room.

"So you are finally awake, Jonita-san" Holly commented. "Yeah, sorry. I had a really good dream and I didn't want to wake up" the purplenette rubbed her neck.

"Was it about your husband again??" Holly asked. "Yeah. I just miss him so much. It has been years since I have seen him" she said as she sat down to have her food.

"Hmmm....I wonder when I will fall in love madly with someone as you have" Jotaro told her as he settled his head on his palms.

Jonita choked on her own saliva as soon as she heard Jotaro say that. She then clears her throat and replies.

"D-Don't you think you are too young to fall in love with someone, Joot??". "B-But I'm 7 years old!! Is that not enough??" Jotaro asked.

"I-I guess but, for falling in love with someone, you will need time. Love is when two people like each other so much that are ready to sacrifice themselves just for the well-being of their lover. In order to love a person, you need someone to whom you feel a certain attraction".

"Certain att-rec-sion??" Jotaro tried to pronounce the word. "Yeah". "But where will I find such a person??". "You will have to wait, Jotaro. You cannot hurry love, always remember that".

"Alright everyone, eat quickly before it gets cold" Holly clapped her hands. Jotaro and Jonita said their prayers in Japanese (Jonita had to learn it otherwise Holly never left her alone) and then started to eat their breakfast.

"Jonita-san, you do remember that you have to take Jotaro out today, right??" Holly asked. Jonita stopped chewing her omelette and looked at the blonde lady hovering over her. She then grinned stupidly at her, the omelette still inside her mouth.

Holly sighed and crossed her hands.

"You forgot, didn't you??".

Jonita swallowed the food she had in her mouth and said "Forgot?? No No, I was just......caught off-guard, that's all" she argued, but Holly didn't take that.

"Listen Jonita-san, Jotaro is at a growing age, and if he doesn't get any exercise, I'm afraid he might become very weak when he grows up, and you are the best person who can get him into some good physical activities" Holly said worriedly.

"Don't worry Holly, Jotaro is of the Joestar bloodline. There is no way he would ever grow up as weak. Even if he doesn't workout, he would still grow up to be as buff as a bull" Jonita caressed Jotaro's raven hair as she smiled at Holly.

Holly sighed once more and looked at Jonita with pleading eyes and a frown. This made Jonita drop her stupid grin, and soon she admitted defeatedly while letting out a big puff of air from her mouth.

"Fine. Exercise, right?? I will make him do it".

By hearing that, Holly got to her usual cheery self as clapped her hands once more. "Okey-Dokey!!" and then she twirled into the kitchen while humming a tune.

Jonita giggled as she ate the last piece of her breakfast. Jotaro too had finished his food and Jonita collected both of their dishes to keep it in the sink.

"Listen Joot, I'm giving you 10 minutes. Get into your best attire as we are going out to practice" Jonita spoke as if she was taking Jotaro out for a war.

"Yes ma'am!!" the boy saluted the purplenette and ran to his room. Jonita smiled to herself. She was sure that Jotaro would grow up to be a very cheerful and bubbly person, just like his mother.

A few minutes later, Jotaro arrived with a white full-sleeve shirt and black short suspenders on. However, Jonita bursted into a fit of laughs as soon as she saw the young boy.

The reason was because Jotaro had worn the shirt inside-out and over the suspenders. Also, his black hair was in a tangled mess as compared to before.

Jonita then kneeled in front of him and started to correct his attire, starting from removing his shirt.

"You should have called me to dress you Joot" Jonita told him. "But I wanted to show you that I'm not a little boy anymore and that I can dress myself" Jotaro pouted.

Jonita chuckled as she finished correcting his outfit. "You are 7 Jotaro, Not 17".

She then ran her palm against Jotaro's head to smoothen his short hair. However, there were some curly ends which were impossible to straighten so she let them be.

"There you go. All set" she then stood up. "Ready to go, big boy??". "You bet I am". She then grinned and then both of them got into their shoes.

"We will return soon Holly!!" she shouted. Holly came to the door with high speed and hugged Jonita hard which made her tumble a little. "S-Stop...I can't breathe" Jonita giggled. Holly then lets her go as she smiled at her.

Holly then gave Jotaro his goodbye kiss. "Mom, I'm too big for goodbye kisses now" Jotaro pouted. "But you will always stay small for Mama, Jotaro" Holly replied. Jotaro blushed and looked at the ground.

Jonita then chuckled and exited the house, Jotaro following her. Both of them waved to Holly and she waved them back. "Come back soon!!" she said, and then she went inside, picking up another tune.

*30 minute time skip, brought to you by Everything is a Cake*

"OK, that's it for today" Jonita informed. Jotaro fell on the ground with a thud as he finally dropped his plank position and let out a puff of air from relief.

"You did a great job Joot. Don't you feel good??" Jonita asked the tired boy with satisfaction in her tune.

"No" the boy replied breathlessly.

"No?? What do you mean 'no'??" her smile dropped. "I'm really tired Jojo" The boy told her.

"Already?? Your grandfather was more active than you when he was 7 years old!!" she stated.

"And second of all, all you have done today is 15 situps, 30 pushups and 2 minute plank hold. Joseph on the other hand used to do twice as much as you have!!".

"Why do you always compare me with Grandpa??" Jotaro gained some strength to sit cross-legged and rubbed off the mud on his cheek.

"Because I want to make you stronger than him, Joot". Jonita then lifted Jotaro up on his feet. She then dusted him off and cupped his cheeks.

"Jotaro, you are the successor of the Joestar bloodline, so you need to be strong. Your mother has the right to be worried about your health as many obstacles will come in your way and you have to be strong to battle them all. Understand??"

"Hmm" Jotaro nodded. Jonita then smiled and kissed Jotaro's forehead. She then stood up and asked the young boy.

"Since I'm happy with your progress, how about we go and get some ice-cream??". Jotaro's mood turned brighter and nodded vigorously with a big grin. Jonita chuckled and then lifted him up, keeping his head on her shoulder while supporting his bottom with her hand.

"To the ice-cream shop then!!!". "Hai!!!!" and then they both sprinted towards the nearest shop.

*Two minute time skip, brought to you by Wide Putin*

"Are you really saying the truth Jojo??". "Yeah. Your grandfather once dressed as a woman in order to sneak in the military base". "Did it work??". "Ehh, almost. But it looked pretty obvious that it was a man dressed up as a woman. I mean, in those days, women with big muscles were not a thing, not to mention the guards were a bunch of perv--AAAH!!!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry Dear. My child didn't mean to hurt you deliberately". A woman with cherry red hair was holding the hand of a boy with the same hair colour. It looked like the boy was the lady's son. The only difference was that the boy had an exceptionally long, wavy bang which was almost as long as his face.

The redhead had kicked Jonita's leg so hard that she almost dropped Jotaro, but instead of being angry at the kid, she was actually impressed that the boy being so young was able to make a grown-up adult stumble.

Setting her thoughts aside, she gave a weak smile to the lady and said "It's alright". The lady too smiled at her and then she continued to walk with her son to the opposite direction.

"Are you OK Jojo??" Jotaro asked the girl. "Yeah I'm fine" she replied. She let Jotaro down and started to rub the area where the boy had kicked her.

"Say, are you OK Joot?? You didn't get hurt, did you??". "N-No, I'm fine" Jotaro looked the ground.

Jonita raised her eyebrow at him. Something was wrong with Jotaro. He didn't usually behave like this........unless he was very flustered.

"Jotaro". "Y-Yes??". "Are you blushing??". "What?? N-No I'm not" Jotaro tried to cover his cheeks with his hands. "So you ARE blushing" Jonita stated. She then scooted closer to Jotaro and asked.

"Tell me, is it because of that boy??". Jotaro's eyes widen as he tried to hide his face from the purplenette.

Jonita then made a smug face and asked "Love at first sight huh??". "S-Stop teasing me Jojo" Jotaro whined. "I'm not teasing you. I'm just saying the facts".

Jotaro them blushed more than before. Jonita tried to hold her laughs but she couldn't, and she began to giggle at Jotaro's cute behaviour.

"Anyways, Joot". "Hmm??". "Wanna know if he likes you back without asking him??".

Jotaro was now full red. He looked at Jonita and asked "I-Is it really possible to know that??". Jonita nodded with a smile. "It's a very old trick but it's very accurate". "S-S-Sure. Let's try it then".

Jonita smirked and then made Jotaro face the direction where the redheads were going. "OK so, you can see the boy walking, right??". "Yeah".

"The thing is now that Joot, if he has fallen for you, he would turn around and look at you" Jonita spoke. "And that's it??" Jotaro looked at her. "Yeah" she replied. "OK" Jotaro shrugged.

"Oh you just believe in me Jotaro, he will definitely turn back at look at you with those innocent eyes". "S-Stop it Jojo". "Sorry".

The redheads didn't show any sign of stopping as the kid walked slowly along his mother.

Turn around.......

Jotaro and Jonita watched each and every step they took, looking for at least a slight clue.

Turn around......................

They had almost reached to the end of the road and still there was no sign. The Joestar and the Kujo still stared at them. They were 100% sure that the boy was going to turn back. And guess what happened...........

Turn around, Dammit!!.............

The little boy finally shifted his body back to look at the two who were staring lasers at him with his big, amethyst eyes, showing curiosity and..........longing. A light blush was visible on his fair cheeks as he gazed at the young ravenhead.

Jonita gasped and fell backwards to the ground, not caring about getting hurt. She then screamed on top of her lungs.

"MY BABY IS IN LOOOOOOOOOOOVE!!!!!!!"

The redhead laughed at the silly lady's reaction and tried to cover his laugh with his mouth. The mother however was taken aback by the immature girl's behaviour as she turned around and cringed.

"What a weird mother. No wonder why she looks so young. She must be a teenager mom" she said to herself.

Jotaro had lost himself in the redhead's violet eyes as he locked his own green ones with the other boy, but soon snapped himself out of it and waved at the redhead with a grin. The young boy's blush grew more as he returned the wave with a small cute smile.

"Come on Noriaki, look forward otherwise you might trip yourself". The boy whose name was Noriaki turned his attention to his mother and followed what she said. After that, they completely vanished from Jojo's eyesight range.

"Y-You were right Jojo. How did you know that it will work??" Jotaro asked with amazement. "I have lived for more than 500 years Jotaro. How can I not know about love??".

Jotaro chuckled and then pushed Jonita up again. She then dusted herself and then spoke. "Let's tell your love story to Holly first after we get some ice-cream". Jotaro nodded and followed Jonita to where they were going next.

*Five minutes time skip, brought to you by Baby Yoda*

"HOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLYYYYYY!!!!!!" Jonita sprinted into the Kujo's residence in search of the blonde lady.

"Jonita-san, is everything OK??" Holly came out of a random room and asked her. As soon the purplenette spotted blonde hair, she lunged at Holly and gave her a death hug while lifting her up.

"J-Jonita-san, what happened??". "Jotaro........he is in love!!!". "What, really???" Holly's eyes brightened up. Jonita nodded, confirming her statement.

Just like Jonita, Holly gasped from happiness and hugged Jonita with a high-pitched squeal, and then they both jumped round and round squealing like high-school girls.

"So who is the lucky girl??" Holly asks. "Well, it's a boy, actually" Jonita replied. Holly's smile dropped a little. "A boy??" she asked. "Yes" she replied. "I-I see" Holly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

"Mama mama, I'm in love!!" Next was Jotaro who ran to his mother and hugged her. Holly hesitantly wrapped her arms around Jotaro as he started babbling about how good-looking his love interest was.

"And he had those pretty purple eyes. They were like the colours of pansies. And his hair was so red. Even the reddest of apples were nothing in front of him. His smile was the best thing of all".

"That's really......nice, Jotaro". By hearing her reply, Jotaro looked at his mother with a little disbelief. She sounded disappointed, he thought.

"I-It's really good to fall in love but, with a boy?? It doesn't seem normal to me". Jotaro let go of her mother as he backed away from her. Was his ears deceiving him?? Did his mother just called him.........adnormal??

"Jotaro I.....I got to talk to Papa. You stay here with Jonita-san. If you are feeling hungry then there is food in the kitchen. I'll be right back" she then went away to the opposite direction without saying anything else.

Jonita just stood where she was in shock. She didn't expect Holly to react like this. She was literally standing there, praying that all she just witnessed was a bad dream and nothing else.

PART 2 :

#jojo oc #jojo original character #jojo's bizarre adventure #jotakak #jotaro x kakyoin #jojo no kimyou na bouken #Spotify #Youtube #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #holly kujo #jojo fanfic #what I wrote

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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New sensations, sweet temptations: chapter 6 (crygi, jan/rock) - Winter

a/n: this do be kinda late but i got it out here, sad to be the second to last chapter but this challenge has been really fun to do and i’m super proud of this fic, enjoy the crygi date and general stupidity (this was for the watermelon prompt and low key barely made it work but technically i did idk)

ao3 link

The morning after Jan’s sleepover was a strange one. It had been a fun night, but things were beginning to change in the group. Relationships were evolving and not going to be the same for much longer. Crystal noticed this and decided to find all her confidence and ask Gigi on a proper date later in the day.

Everyone started to wake up around 10 am, although voices stayed hushed for the next hour to avoid waking up whoever was still sleeping. Everyone woke up around the same time, leaving Gigi, Rock, and Jan the last ones asleep.

Crystal, looking at the sleeping Gigi next to her as everyone started moving around, couldn’t hold back the soft smile that tugged at her lips. She would have continued admiring the red-haired beauty but Nicky cleared her throat, sending Crystal an amused look that made her want to curl up in a ball and roll away.

—

In the room next to where most of the girls had slept, Rock was intertwined with a half-asleep Jan. The blonde stirred, noticing someone hugging her before turning her head around to see a fast asleep Rock, hugging her close to her chest.

Jan felt her heart almost leap out of her chest at first, before remembering the events of the night before and settling back down. The fear turned into something soft and warm. Rock felt the same way, she had nothing to worry about anymore. It was all okay.

There was the rest of the world other than Rock to worry about but Jan shook it off. She’d take it slowly, just glad she could stop worrying so much about her feelings for her close friend. She didn’t know where they would go from here but it couldn’t get much worse than the paralysing gay panic she was tormented by.

She realised she would need to move from the pink-haired girl’s embrace at some point soon before someone (probably Nicky) would barge into her room and not let her live it down. That was made difficult by how they were laid. Rock had one arm over Jan, the other laying limply by her side. Their legs were snaked together, Jan’s arms were a part of the mess, one hanging onto Rock’s and one over the sleeping girl. Pulling herself out of this would be difficult but she didn’t fear waking Rock up, knowing that her friend could sleep through anything.

That was until a loud thud came from one of the rooms and Jan felt her heart drop to the bottom of her chest. Rock stirred beside her, letting out a confused noise before flopping down back into the bed. She stayed there for a moment before rolling over to be face to face with Jan.

“The fuck?” Her tired, half-asleep mumble made Jan’s heart weak. Tired Rock was always cute, but curled in her bed half fused with her was another story. Jan didn’t know if she could cope with this for much longer, but the warmth in the chest at one look at Rock made it all worth it.

“Good morning to you too!” Jan’s enthusiasm was ever-present, even after having just woke up. Rock regarded her with a strange look, shaking her head and muttering something about too much energy. She glanced at the door then back at Jan before speaking again.

“As much as I hate suggesting it, should we go check out what that was?” Rock, although suggesting the get up, pouted when Jan removed her arm from over her body. Jan’s heart malfunctioned at the sight. How was she going to survive with a girl this adorable?

“You’re right, come on let’s get up.”

Rock grumbled as Jan left the warmth of the bed and her embrace but soon got up to stand beside her and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, nuzzling her head into her shoulder.

“Just ‘cause we’re up now doesn’t mean you’ll get away with this, you owe me more time to cuddle.” Rock’s half-asleep voice, trying to sound somewhat threatening was the single funniest and cutest thing Jan had heard in her life. She felt a sudden urge to pat Rock on the head, following through before trying not to laugh at the strange, happy sound that came from Rock as she did so.

—

The pair made their way into the lounge where the other girls were. The source of the noise was found out to be Gigi, having rolled off the air mattress onto the floor. Everyone stared, not wanting to be the first person to speak but also wanting to laugh at the poor girl’s misfortunate awakening. Crystal was the first one to make a move, tapping the redhead on the shoulder.

“What?”

At the sound of Gigi’s confused grumble, Crystal giggled. Gigi herself whipped around to give whoever laughed an icy glare but felt it melt the minute she saw Crystal’s adorable amused face. She glanced around the room, noting everyone looks at her with either a smirk or straight confusion.

“Well, at least everyone’s awake now! How did everyone sleep!” Jan felt the eyes turn to her, cutting through the awkward silence that was building. Everyone seemed to answer that they slept well, with Rock mumbling something about barely being awake.

The group flowed into normal conversation after that, everyone discussing what their plans for the rest of the day were and eating leftover snacks to double as breakfast.

Crystal saw her chance, tapping Gigi on the shoulder and sitting next to her on the sofa.

“Hey Geeg, you said you weren’t busy today and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go somewhere with me?”

Gigi froze, did Crystal just ask her out? Seriously? Was she still dreaming?

Gigi nodded, afraid if she spoke not much would come out.

“Cool! I saw this cool looking arcade that opened up recently. Would you want to go there? Maybe?”

Gigi couldn’t help but smile at the nervous tone Crystal almost always possessed, she acted so shy and yet stood out so much with her huge makeup, curly green hair, and loveable attitude.

“Sounds like fun, Crys. I’d love to. It’s a date!”

It was Crystal’s turn to freeze up now. Gigi said yes. Oh god, how was she going to deal with this? But her plan had worked. She was going on a date with Gigi Goode!

—-

The giddy feeling in Crystal had yet to fade as she and Gigi neared the arcade. If anything it only grew stronger with every passing minute. Gigi noticed the air of pure excitement Crystal was giving off, hiding her smile at the cuteness of it.

The moment they stepped inside, Crystal grabbed Gigi’s hand and dragged her date to the nearest claw machine.

“Geeg look! It looks like you!” Crystal gestured to a ginger cat plush, grinning proudly. Gigi questioned it though, she wasn’t a cat. How did she look like one?

“It’s ginger and it looks elegant, but also super cute. You two are practically the same.!” The giggle Crystal let out made warmth radiate through Gigi. She was really out here, on a date with Crystal. The thought made a giddy smile, much like her date’s, tug at her lips. She let it stay, the smile widening into a grin when she saw Crystal with the same dopey look.

Turning her sights on the claw machine, she put some money in, turning to the green-haired girl and winking. Crystal watched over her shoulder as Gigi expertly maneuvered the claw onto the cat that had caught her eye. It got picked up and dropped into the prize shoot, Gigi looked at it with a proud expression that made Crystal melt a little inside.

When Gigi handed her the plush she wanted to scream, instead, she went for a move so strangely confident for her it was baffling with hindsight. She happily took the cat, proudly proclaiming it to be baby Geeg, before gesturing to Gigi with the same dopey smile that she had held for most of the day.

“She may be baby Geeg, but you’re my favourite Geeg.” Crystal kissed the redheads cheeks, inwardly smirking when she saw Gigi fail to compute what was happening. It took her a good few seconds to react, limply bringing a hand to the spot Crystal had kissed and staring at her with big eyes mixed with too many emotions to decipher. Gigi quickly responded to the action, pressing a light kiss to Crystal’s forehead and grinning when she looked flustered by the affection.

They continued, attached at the hip, playing games together. Or rather, Crystal would pull Gigi to any game she took particular interest in and Gigi would play it with her. The euphoria of seeing how excited Crystal got when they did well was the best thing Gigi had ever felt in her life and she would do anything to keep feeling it.

“You know, since we have green and red hair, does that make us a watermelon?”

“Crystal….what?” Exchanges of pure stupidity that warmed Gigi’s heart continues as the played the games, how was Crystal this stupid and yet this perfect?

Crystal was determined to return the gift of a cute plush from one of the many claw machines, when Gigi gestured to a small clown plush, claiming it to be just like Crystal, she saw her chance. She paused at the machine, staring at it for a good 20 seconds before putting some money in. She failed the first time, the clown falling out of the claw just before it hit the prize shoot and making Crystal want to scream in the process. She put more money in, successfully getting it the second time.

“Hey, since I’ve got baby Geeg I guess you need a little clown to remind you of me huh?” Crystal was proud of getting the small clown to Gigi, who seemed to like it a lot.

“Well, her name is Cryssie. She reminds me of this really cute girl I know actually.”

Playing dumb, Crystal nodded, wondering aloud who this girl could be. Gigi picked up on it, only proceeding to complement the girl more.

“She sounds like a real catch.”

“Oh she is, you know something?”

Crystal gave her a perplexed look.

“I really want to kiss her.” With that, Crystal froze. Despite all the flirting, she didn’t expect Gigi to be so forward.

“I have a feeling she’d like that a lot.”

Gigi took that as the confirmation she needed, gently putting a hand on Crystal’s face and guiding it into a kiss. It was short, nervous, and probably somewhat awkward but it felt right and made both girls smile like idiots.

Crystal knew then and there that this wouldn’t be the last date they went on and she swore to herself that would be the first kiss of many between them.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #jan sport/rock m sakura #crystal methyd #gigi goode #rock m sakura #Jan Sport #new sensations sweet temptations #winter #fluff #lesbian au #high school au #concrit welcome #summer lovin' 2020 #day 6: watermelon #submission

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kittystargen3 · 4 years

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Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13523059/1/The-Skywalker-Tale-A-Legacy-Restored

Summary: AU-Canon Divergence where Anakin is not such a deadbeat grandfather. Pun definitely intended. Begins before the events of The Force Awakens when Force Ghost Anakin drags Han Solo back to Leia and tells them what's what. He's got a plan on how to save Ben, and this time, nothing is going to stop him. Hint it involves a certain desert scavenger. Han Solo lives! Series rewrite.

Chapter 30 - Breaking Through

Ben took a deep breath. He’d heard Ap’lek well enough. The information he needed was in his own head somewhere. ‘The route can be found in our mantra,’ Ap’lek had said.

Ben remembered the Mantra well enough, and there weren’t any space routes in it. He also remembered what happened when they chanted it. Ghostly shapes would appear and then vanish in front of them. They’d told him it was from an ancient magic playing with the dark side.

For the life of him, Ben couldn’t remember what those images were. The first time he saw them he suspected the Knights had slipped a hallucinogenic into his food. Still, he didn’t need the dark side to chant it again. Ben placed a piece of Flimsy beside him. When the images appeared this time, he wasn’t going to forget them. He’d write them down first.

Ben took another deep breath and in a deep voice, he began to chant. “Ooooh Loom Koo. Roo so vamoo Lechu.” Nothing was appearing, so he repeated the line.

By the time he’d repeated it a third time, he was starting to feel frustrated. “Why isn’t this working?” The last time he’d done it he had been alone in his quarters, and everything else was the same.

‘Though he’d have to fall again to remember it,’ Ben remembered Ap’lek’s exact words.

“That’s right!” The last time he’d done it he was filled with rage. It had been while he was hunting Luke’s location and he felt angry that the man was still unfound. The rage, combined with the pain of betrayal, was fueling the dark side in him. The chant was used to control that wave of power as it was built.

At last he knew what he needed to do. He took a relieved breath. ‘ No that won’t work. You need emotional turmoil to use the dark side. ’ And so he thought about that night, the night where his Uncle almost killed him. Only this time when he woke, in his mind all he could see was the helpless look of fear and horror on his Uncle’s face. The same Luke had that night Ben had caught him in the panic attack. It wasn’t causing the same surge of rage anymore. Instead he felt a strange sense of sad pity for his Uncle and regret for not seeing it sooner.

‘This won’t work. You need real emotions. But what else will cause you the same level of rage?’ And the answer came to him from the force, and with a sigh, he realized he should’ve known that already. ‘ Rey.’ If something were to happen to her. If some power were to threaten her, he’d do anything to stop it. And the First Order was out there, perhaps a supreme leader short, but still a threat.

Ben closed his eyes. He visualized a ship with thousands of troopers on their way now. It would arrive in the night and fire on the base. Troopers would be released in squadrons to hunt down and kill any survivors. Ben felt his anger start to build. Once it built a little more, he could start chanting, and then…

“Ben?” he half opened an eye to see Rey looking down at him, questioningly.

He sighed, as he tried to release what had already built up. He knew he couldn’t channel the dark side as long as she was present. ‘It figures, now of all times!’

“Hey,” Ben hardly got the chance to start, before the buzzer by his door started going off. In another few seconds, it was replaced by a frantic knock. Ben almost didn’t have to look with the force to see whose presence was outside his door.

“Luke,” Ben greeted him while he opened the door.

“You were using the dark side. I could sense it across the base.” Luke accused him. Then he pushed past him and began looking around the room, for what Ben did not know. Signs of damage perhaps.

Ben sighed. “I was about to, but then she showed up.” He motioned to where Rey appeared, to him, to be standing.

“Rey? Oh. Hi Rey.” Luke sounded nervous and embarrassed.

“It’s Luke. He says Hi,” Ben summarized. “She says Hi back.”

“What exactly were you trying to do?” Luke asked.

“Is this about what you were doing when our bond formed?” Rey asked at the same time.

Ben nodded to both of them as he sat down. “The Knights of Ren have a mantra. They might not have looked it, but every one of them was force sensitive. There’s this dark magic that reacts to the dark side in the mantra and it makes these images appear. I believe it’s what Ap’lek meant when he said I knew it, the way to Exegol. Only for the life of me I can’t remember those images, so I was trying to repeat the process.”

Luke’s eyes creased with worry. “Oh that would never have worked.”

“Huh?” Ben inquired.

“It’s an ancient Sith technique to put a metal guard over certain memories, so that if one of their own were to fall from the dark side. Yes it happened too, not as many times as the opposite, but there have been cases. And if one of their own were to fall, they would not be able to spill all of the order’s secrets. If you did it again, another block would just cover those moments as well. The second after you experience it. No, There is only one way past a block like this and that’s with a second dark sider.”

Luke paused and looked over to where Ben spoke to Rey before. “But then… Ask Rey to make her way here.”

Ben glared at his Uncle, who answered back. “You’ve seen how I react to you using the dark side again, you really think I’d even allow her to play with it.”

“Uncle Luke says you should come to my quarters.” Ben sighed as he passed the message along.

“Good, I’ll explain when she gets here.” Luke smiled.

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

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As The Dust Settles: Chapter 16 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 16: Lurking Demons

AO3 Link: Here

Previous Chapters: 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

––––––––––––

“Apocrypha.” The Grand Commander gripped her shoulders, the pain in his thumb all forgotten. His smile was benign, eyes blazing with pride. “Your meta ability...it has awakened. And to think it was your concern for me that triggered it. I truly am touched.”

“Come, we must announce this to the Army. You are an exemplar for them to follow. Your special ability has made it so.”

She had only smiled. That was ten years ago, and she still remembered every word that he had said. It was her crowning achievement, to have done what Destro had proclaimed. “The strength of a person lies in their meta ability, to awaken it is to strengthen oneself.”

Her strength was her Cryokinesis and her very reason for existence. And it was gone. What do I do now?

––––––––

“Get out, I’ll deal with him.” Dabi growled to her. She got to her feet and scrambled back, as Dabi stood between her and the muscular form of Shingu Takame, gazing at the two of them the way she did to her inferiors.

Then Dabi’s voice was whispered over the earpiece, barely audible over the noise of crates crashing to the ground. “I’ll throw down a wall, then run into the maze, where I was. We’ll lose him for a while.”

“Ok.” She whispered back.

“THOOM!” An incendiary wall sliced the room into two, cutting their view of Takame, but it worked in favour of them. The two turned and ran into the labyrinth of darkness and storage crates.

“What happened back there?” Dabi said. “Who attacked first?”

“He ambushed me, leapt down from the second floor, maybe,” Geten gasped, struggling to keep up with Dabi’s agility as he weaved through the narrow corridors. Sparing a split second to look behind her, she saw Takame barging through the flames, seemingly unharmed, about ten paces behind.

“That means you saw something. What did you see?” Dabi demanded, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the left.

“I –” She spluttered. Dabi looked back at her, slowing down his pace. “It was someone else.”

“Then that’s our target. You find that person. I’ll draw Takame away. Ready?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Go.” With that, Dabi sent a careening bolt of fire upwards, like a flare. There was no way Takame would miss that. As the crashing sounds closed in on Dabi, she took a long route back towards where they were.

That person. It was...a girl? How was she involved in all this?

When she reached there – a small room in the back, it was empty, the door ajar. She looked around and saw the door closest to her, marked by an EXIT sign. She wrenched it open and the large courtyard with orderly rows of containers, and the girl holding a suitcase and sprinting away.

She took off running after her. A foot chase. She hadn’t done something like that in forever. And it was showing, judging by how the gap between them was widening.

Damn it, do something! Scanning the ground, she rushed to pick up a pebble. She threw it. The girl gave a yelp and stumbled to the ground as the rock collided with her head.

Closing the rest of the distance, Geten tackled her, placing her knees on the girl’s legs, while grabbing her arms and holding them behind her back, as the girl struggled. “Let me – go!”

“Shut up,” Geten said. “So you’re our target? Who are you?”

“None of your business, Apocrypha.” She spat.

Geten growled. “Tell me, or I’ll break your arms.”

“Why aren’t you killing me already? Am I that worthless of a target you won’t even use your quirk?”

“We’re bringing you in,” Geten lied.

“The rest of you – you bastards tried to kill me. Why would you be any different?” The girl coughed on the scattered dust from the ground.

Geten pushed her knee deeper into the girl’s back, eliciting a hiss of pain. “You answer my questions.”

But the girl continued, “You didn’t even use your quirk to capture me. Don’t tell me...you’re at your limit? Can’t use your quirk, huh?”

“Shut up. I don’t need my ice to break your neck, so you’d do well to answer me.” Geten’s nails dug deeper into the girl’s skin. “Who. Are. You?”

She huffed. “You wanna know who I am?” The hit came faster than she had anticipated. Geten felt a dizzying pain, followed by a sharp one in her mouth, as the girl threw her head back to hit Geten in the chin, making her bite her tongue. She hissed, but her grip was off with the sudden attack.

Then she felt a blunt force in her stomach and she was thrown off the girl. She kicked me. Through the haze of pain, she heard the girl yell something as she got to her feet and kept running into the maze of metal cargo.

Father? The word she shouted murkily swam to the forefront of her mind.

There was a roar as Shingu Takame burst through the concrete walls of the building and barrelled straight towards Geten. Behind him, she made out the dark jacket that belonged to Dabi. He was shouting something...was he looking at her?

“Get up! He’s coming for you!” Dabi’s voice shouted in her ear.

Get up, she repeated, but her head spun. Her gut screamed in protest. The kick hurt. I...can’t.

Then she heard a bone-snapping crack. Her eyes widened as she saw Dabi’s limp body sent flying and slamming against the wall, a well-timed surprise attack. Shingu retracted his fist and turned back to face her, and started walking.

No.

She struggled, pushing her arm up for leverage. She stumbled to her feet, dragging them back as Takame ambled towards her, his impassive expression returning. At the corner of her eye, she saw his daughter run towards him.

“Apocrypha!” He bellowed. “I’d appreciate if you would stop moving. You’re not going anywhere while your co-leader is behind me. Unless you truly are as heartless as the stories I’ve heard.”

She stopped. I need to buy time. The motion elicited a smile from him, but it was mixed with anger as he tended to her daughter’s injury with a caring rub on her head. Geten was startled at their similarity in appearance. Both wore the same hardened expression, with a sharp chin and athletic build, even despite Shingu’s age.

“You hurt my daughter? You’ll pay for that,” He said.

“You’ll pay for your treachery to the Front.”

“So says the murderer. Don’t act like you’re loyal to the army. Please, spare me the pretense.” Shingu’s eyes narrowed at her. She didn’t respond.

“Usually,” He continued, “I would have killed you and him by now. But it’s not everyday you’re allowed a conversation with a lieutenant of the Liberation Front. And it’s certainly a rare moment for you to not be able to use your quirk. I don’t know what the reasons for that are, so once you give me what I want, I’ll finish you and him off.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving me information I want?” Geten said.

Takame looked back at his daughter. “They’re not watching us, are they?” He said, quieter, but Geten heard it. She shook her head, tapping her briefcase.

So she’s responsible for both the chatter and the signal disruption? That’s why Skeptic couldn’t find them properly.

Turning back, he shrugged. “I have no qualms giving information to a dead person. First question, who knows about tonight?”

Before she could respond, he added, “Oh, and don’t try to lie. My daughter’s quirk can discern the truth from any statement.”

Liar...right? It was a strange combination of meta abilities. What was her mother’s?

She played along for now. “Only the lieutenants and Shigaraki. My question now.”

“No.” Takame cut through. “Next, where is –”

“What drove you to betray the Front?” Geten raised her voice. She didn’t need to know this. She just needed time. Either for her to get to Dabi, or for her meta ability to reactivate.

“Where is Skeptic’s data stored?” His voice was as cold as ice. Damn, he’s not one to waste time. I need to get him to talk more...She placed a hand in her pocket. The ice still had not melted. A few hours...it’s barely been one. How do I get out of this?

“You must have a reason.” Geten stared at the man, refusing to waver her gaze. “You wouldn’t put you and your daughter through this hell. Living in factories, running from place to place to evade us...It’s personal.”

“Where is Skeptic’s data stored?” The question came again in apparent disregard of her statement, but she knew she struck a nerve.

“Is it about your wife?” Just as she uttered the word, she saw a blur of grey and beige. The punch to her face made her stagger back and spit out blood.

Okay, I definitely struck a nerve. The bruising pain stung her cheek, but she found herself grinning, as crazy as it was. Takame drew back his fist, a vein on his forehead pulsing.

“Is she dead?” She taunted at the incensed Takames. “The Liberation Army killed her?”

“Shut up!” The girl shouted. Shingu held her back. “Mihara...calm down. I’ll handle this.”

“Mihara?” Geten’s memory brought forth two names on an old list, many years back. “Oh…” She smirked. “So you were lying about her quirk. Mihara doesn’t even have one, does she? Neither did your wife, Osaki.” She wiped the blood on her sleeve and stood back up.

“Come on, Dabi. Get up,” She whispered into her earpiece, to no avail. Please. I can’t...I can’t do this alone.

She saw Shingu take a few calming breaths, the tension creeping upwards with the silence. “You’re not going to give me what I want, I see,” The Takame head observed, his voice dripping acid. “I’ll give you one last chance to tell me everything I need to know.”

She wore her smirk facing him. “You have some revenge plan against the MLA for killing her,” Geten rattled on, hoping she was correct in her guesses. “You, alone? You think your quirk will do anything against the entire Deika City, or Shigaraki? Your plan was doomed the day you conceived it. I assume, the day your wife died.”

The punch came as predicted. Geten swerved her head to the side. She let out a giggle. “What, did we kill her? Not me, surely? I would remember a person like you. It must mean your wife was quirkless. It’s no wonder we killed trash like her.”

She jumped out of the way to dodge another smash. “So you joined the MLA to take out Re-destro.” She forced herself to laugh, her voice rising in tempo, as she laid out Takame’s plan without him even telling her. “But, let me guess, the League of Villains ruined your plans, didn’t it? And now you and your daughter can’t do anything but cry using the news. All because we killed your wife.”

The vein in Takame’s temple was nearly popping – Geten could see it from a few feet away. His breathing was heavy, his shoulders heaving with anger on the verge of erupting. He opened his mouth, perhaps to say something vitriolic.

“You...you monster.” Geten’s smile slid off her face at the emotion in his tone. It sounded as if his heart tore with every word he spoke.

“We....we did nothing to you.” Takame said, looking at her with a dying rage, his impassive expression fading, leaving one that spoke of uncountable volumes of pain. “But you...your self-righteous, quirk-abusing, hellspawn of an army seeked out the quirkless. You took Osaki – away.” His voice shook, cracking as he talked about her.

“I…” Geten’s voice trailed off. Perhaps she was too good at buying time. Moving her hands, they felt empty, lacking the imbued power of her Cryokinesis, that up till an hour ago, had never felt that way. Was it what Osaki felt? But...no, I have a meta ability. I’m not –

A second hit slammed her into the ground, in that split second of hesitance. Her body seized up on its own, even as she screamed at it to move out of the way of the oncoming assault.

The third punch sunk into her abdomen like a bullet, curling her up into a fetal position out of instinct. She choked out a cry, tears staining the gravel centimetres away from her face. Or was it blood?

“You’re no human.” Through the dust and the spots in her eyes, the ringing in her head and the pain wracking her body like a thousand hammers, she heard Takame’s voice clearly. She saw him standing over her, fists clenched. He drew his right arm back.

“You don’t deserve a life.” The fifth punch cracked a bone. She heard it. Arm? Rib? Every inch of her body was numb with agony.

“Everything...everything I’ve heard about you is true.” Takame snarled, the Reaper’s shadow looming over her. “You’re a demon, a demon with a frozen heart.”

A whimper escaped her mouth. That was all she could do – whimper, cry, choke on her tears, and nothing more. Her vision faded in and out of darkness – a broken flashlight. She coughed up more blood, shivering like a newborn infant, as Takame stopped the pummels for a second.

She braced herself for the last barrage.

But the second lasted another second. And then…another. She kept her eyes closed. Maybe she was already dead? She didn’t dare open her eyes.

“Stay still. Don’t move.” A voice – a familiar one, murmured. “They’re on the way.”

A warmth was the last thing she felt before unconsciousness overtook her.

––––––––

Hello. Here’s 16 as promised.

Thoughts on this...I planned it to be slightly different but after I started writing I decided this worked better. Threw one draft away after that got too boring. Not to say this isn’t, or to me at least. Again, writer’s issue. Hope you guys like this.

I hope next chapter can bring to light a lot of the mystery surrounding everything, from what Dabi, Geten and Shigaraki know and don’t know, and close out this “arc”.

I’m hoping that Geten’s dulled senses were conveyed fine here. Since I’m writing from her perspective, I can’t write about stuff she can’t see or hear. So ideally the writing showed that confusion and blindness of her surroundings. The beat up scene was hard to write because of that, or sentences where Geten got hit. It’s really a blur of motion, so I can’t just write, “Takame punched her” but more of she feels the pain, then registers the motion, or something like that.

But yeah...leave a comment or something if you enjoyed it. Cheers.

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my-whumpy-little-heart · 4 years

Text

Best AU Part 2: The Pining Awakens

This is a fanfiction written with the permission of @spookyboywhump and @ihaventwritteninsolong. This chapter features Allen’s characters Wren and Zander, with plenty of references to Edwin’s character Cathal.

Wrote this pure, unadulterated fluff to help get out of the writing block I got driven into near the end of May. A nice, happy palate cleanser if you will. Linked here is the previous part to this with proper explanation as to what’s going on with this universe lol.

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

Zander hadn’t moved from his one spot on the couch since he’d come in some twenty minutes earlier. At first, Wren thought he might have just been in a mood. He got quiet like that sometimes after a particularly bad day... would sit on the couch, curled up as he broke down slowly, and Wren could only hope Zander would open up and talk a little so he could help.

But today was different. He’d been curled up, staring intently at his phone, typing and scrolling at odd intervals. A vaguely frustrated expression was set into his face, but there was something softer behind it. Slowly, carefully, Wren walked over from the kitchen and sat on a chair across from the couch.

Zander didn’t even look up.

“Soo… how was your day?” Wren asked softly, and Zander jerked in surprise. It was like he hadn’t even noticed his presence.

“Mmh, good,” he hummed, and Wren had to hold back a smile at his transparency.

“Anything... particularly good happen?”

“No.” Zander bit back a guilty smirk, but he saw the beginnings of it on his face. As he stood from his chair, Wren was sure he’d never heard a worse lie in his life.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m guessing there’s also no reason you’ve had your nose buried in your phone since the minute you got here?”

Zander sighed heavily, breath hitching with barely contained laughter, clicking off his phone and shooting a tired glance at Wren. The shorter man had the height advantage for once, and walked over to stand above Zander as he curled further back into the couch. He had his hands on his hips and the smarmiest grin plastered on his face.

“C’mon. What’s their name, Zander?”

“Huh? Whose name?” he asked, still feigning ignorance.

“The cute person you met today and can’t stop thinking about, obviously.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zander said quickly, almost too quietly for Wren to hear.

“And I don’t know your phone password so I can catch you off guard and verify my theory,” he smiled, and his friend sighed. They’d played that game before, and Zander had always lost in the end. He could change the passcode or leave entirely, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle at this point.

“So~” he sing-songed, “What’s their name?”

“I dunno, I didn’t catch it,” Zander shrugged.

Wren gave him a pointed glare.

“Cathal.”

The glare intensified.

“Ugh, Cathal Weber. That’s his full name. Happy now?”

“Very,” Wren grinned devilishly, flopping on the couch next to him and snuggling up close so he could stare at the glowing phone screen. It was open to the Instagram search bar, no results showing. “Did you find all his social media accounts yet?”

“Literally the opposite,” he groaned, “Sir Cute Hot Chocolate Man has apparently never seen a computer in his life.”

“So you met him at work, then,” Wren declared.

“Ugh, yes. And before you yell at me, he was new, and I did ask for his last name even though I didn’t need it,” he muttered.

“Zander…” he adopted a serious expression, voice heavy with false concern, “you can’t keep doing this...”

“Fuck you, I do what I want.” Zander grabbed a pillow and swung it weakly at him as the younger man snickered.

“Alright, so tell me more about this Cathal “Hot Chocolate Hottie” Weber,” he mimed quotes with his fingers, and Zander went red.

“Hey, don’t call him that!” he pouted indignantly.

“Oh right, I forgot. The cute nicknames are just for you lovebirds,” Wren teased.

“I just met him!”

“And look at the mess he’s made of you already…”

“I’m perfectly put together and can absolutely banish his glorious fucking face from my mind whenever I want to, thank you very much!” Zander shouted, face almost completely red at that point.

Wren let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds.

“So.”

“So, what?” Zander crossed his arms.

“You have a lot to say right now and you’re not letting it out.”

“Maybe.” Wren raised a brow, waiting for him to go on. “Okay! So, imagine the hottest, most angelic human being you’ve ever seen, then-”

“Zander, you lost me already.”

“Aghhhhh, are you seriously gonna make me describe him?”

“Listen, unless you want me to picture a person on fire every time you call this boy hot because that’s all the word hot means to me, then I’m gonna need some words to go off of,” Wren said, waving his hands animatedly as he spoke.

“Alright. Imagine this boy; he’s only a little shorter than me-”

“Aw come on, not another giant in the family!” he whined.

“Do you want to hear or not?!”

“Oh no, go on, go on. I’ll be crying in Short over here.” Wren sank back into the couch, and Zander sighed heavily before he spoke again.

“...okay. A little shorter than me, and cute kinda wavy hair that just looked really soft. It was sort of blond-ish, but a little sandier? Hard to describe, but he had the most breathtaking blue eyes and wore this apron in the same color that really brought them out...” he trailed off, expression dreamy and caught up in the memory of Cathal.

“Sorry, apron? You didn’t say he was a new coworker, unless...”

“No, he works at that flower shop down the street. Sunflora.”

“I still can’t believe they named it after a Pokémon,” Wren laughed. “But cute boy? Likes flowers? I can telepathically sense that he’s a twink? Might as well have taken a boy and printed ‘Zander’s type’ on his forehead.”

“Oh my god, Wren, shut up. You can’t just break into my mind to get a look at the hot guy, that’s a breach of privacy.”

“Hot, shmot. I wouldn’t waste my mind reading powers on that,” he waved a dismissive hand. “Now tell me about his alluring personality.” Wren wiggled his eyebrows jokingly and Zander rolled his eyes.

“Well, okay first off, he was super polite and nice, and he did the cutest thing where he forgot he was wearing his work name tag, right? And I felt really bad for reading his name off of it at the time and I think it freaked him out a bit, but it was really charming how genuine he was too you know? And then he ordered his hot chocolate with marshmallows, and that was just- really fucking cool of him. Like, could you ever get the courage, as a full grown adult, to ask for marshmallows in your drink and not immediately feel like someone’s gonna look down on you?”

“Zander, I still get carded for buying wine at the grocery store. I’ve transcended embarrassment and risen into a plane of pure indifference.”

“Okay, well that doesn’t apply to you. But still, even just working at a flower shop? Screw gender roles and societal norms and all that, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t gonna be climbing out of the woodwork to drag you for being a man who dares to get anywhere near flowers. I just- He had the most beautiful laugh. And he was wearing the cutest sweater too, with a collared shirt under it in these nice pastel colors and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more confident and fucking badass than that…” Zander trailed off, tears glistening in his eyes.

“...you need a minute?”

“No, no I’m good I just-” Zander sat up, wiping at his eyes, but when Wren wrapped him up in a hug he fell apart completely. “Wren… oh, Wren, he’s fucking incredible…” He tucked his head in the crook of Wren’s neck, arms shaking and eyes glassy, “...and I know he’s never gonna like me back, or I might never see him again, but I’m never gonna forget him for as long as I live…”

“Woah, hey, slow down,” Wren said, rubbing circles into his back absentmindedly. “You can’t just make assumptions like that before you know more. We’ve talked about this.”

“But every time, I swear, all the pretty guys are straight, and all the nice girls are gay, and if they aren’t any of those then they’re aro, or they’re taken…” he rested his full weight against Wren, who laid down sideways with a small ‘oof’, wrapping his arms tighter around his friend.

“Let me ask you a question then. How much time did it take him to say a word when he first stepped up to the counter?”

“Well… probably thirty seconds at least? But that was definitely my fault for tripping over my line, and then that whole name thing…”

“Mmhmm, right,” Wren nodded, “I’m only gonna take your first sentence into account there. So when he did speak, how much did he trip over his words?”

“Oh, a lot actually, but I think he just had a stutter.”

“Okay, fair,” he conceded, “different question then. What was he staring at when he wasn’t talking?”

“Uhhhh…” Zander trailed off, trying to remember. “I don’t know, he kinda looked around in front of him without moving his head very much, like he was lost?”

“That’s called ‘checking you out,’ dumbass. He’s definitely into you.”

Zander made an unbelieving ‘hmph’ sound and wrapped himself tighter around Wren, making sure to move further to the side so he didn’t suffocate him.

“Alright, you gotta move though so I can cook-” he started, but cut himself off when Zander looked up, his dark eyes silently pleading. “-but on second thought, I’m really hungry for pizza tonight. Wanna order out?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Zander sighed, tucking his head back down as Wren dug out his phone and dialed their favorite restaurant. He was silent then, except for a quick whispered reminder to request an extra turn in the oven so their pizza would still be nice and crispy when it arrived.

They were quiet for a long while after that, and by the time the doorbell rang Zander’s breathing had evened out and he slept peacefully, still holding on to Wren.

Bonus: here are the only notes I made before writing this chapter.

“Plans: hmm wren. Then they get to cuddle because allen can’t fucking stop me. But wren is still being petty because i love him“

and that’s the tea, really.

#fluff #fanfiction #best au #zander/cathal #all my love to edwin and allen #no whump only love #pining #mutual pining #but zander doesn't know that #he is merely a Fool and will not listen to wren #wren: you two are in love #zander: very funny let me mourn now #dramatic man is dramatic #cuddling #no strings attached /allen/#i see you over there with your angst and cuddling but what if just. this.#ya know?#anyway posting time have fun with the happy things you wonderful people

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hottestthingalive · 4 years

Text

Bluebells (3)

Chapter 3: Sprouts

Ao3 Link here.

First | Previous

Notes: Ah, chapter three. 19 pages long, the bane of my existence, and going from tooth-rotting fluff to mild angst in one chapter.

Plot: Virgil and Logan sleep together (but not like that), everyone thinks they’re dating, and Prince is confronted.

Relationships: Analogical, background Royality (so far!)

Tw: Cursing (and lots of it), mentions of death, mentions of potential kidnapping, assumed dating, mild objectification.

Logan couldn’t sleep.

He knew he should be able to -- ought to, in fact, have already collapsed from exhaustion a few days ago. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep at this point.

But here he was, staring at the ceiling, looking at the peeling paint and wondering if anyone had noticed he wasn’t in the woods yet.

The odds were slim, of course. Fey, for all their allegiances and deals and petty rivalries, were naturally antisocial creatures. (Or at least Unseelie were. The only two Seelie Logan knew closely, Advice and Prince, were both exhaustingly extroverted, but the others of their court did not seem quite as exuberant, and he suspected they might be anomalies.) So no one would likely come looking for Logan tonight, especially after the spring equinox a few days ago.

Still, he worried.

Sighing, Logan turned on his side, shutting his eyes. What would Advice say right now? he wondered. What would he tell me?

...Well, knowing Advice, he’d make repeated human cartoon references and annoy Logan half to death. But mixed in there, he’d say something about Logan repressing his emotions and ignoring his actual worries in favor of trivial ones, and how he had to talk about his problems.

“Okay,” he said out loud, “What am I actually worried about?”

Anxiety, his brain supplied. He looks like he’s going to drop any moment. And Prince -- if it really is him, the human, then what on earth is he doing fraternizing with humans? Why did he miss the equinox? Why didn’t he tell his brother? What do I tell Duke if it is him, and he refuses to return? Would I have to keep it a secret?

Screw it.

He pulled aside the quilt, feet hitting the soft carpet on the floor with no sound. Logan could see perfectly in the darkness, now that he had taken off those infernal glasses -- adjusting his eyes to see through them meant depriving himself of his normal vision, which was impeccable in all forms of lighting and conditions. It was annoying.

Anxiety had insisted on Logan taking his room, citing some rules of human chivalry, and had gone to sleep on the couch. Logan couldn’t quite understand why he didn’t just take the room at the end of the hall, the one that presumably belonged to his grandmother, but he hadn’t questioned it, instead attempting to convince Anxiety to take the bed by citing his severe exhaustion.

The faerie had forgotten quite how good at arguing Anxiety was.

Logan pulled open the door to the room, adjusting the sweatpants that barely reached his shins. At least the shirt fit well -- it was a band shirt that had always been too big for Anxiety, the human had told him, and although a bit baggy, it was a good length on his lanky frame.

It was easy, creeping down the stairs, and Logan thought he had been perfectly silent until he heard Anxiety’s voice mutter, “You awake too?”

“Apparently,” he nodded, shrugging before he remembered that human eyes did not see nearly as well in the darkness. “Er… I just shrugged.”

“Thanks,” Anxiety laughed, voice gravelly with exhaustion. “Come sit with me. I’ll make us hot chocolate or something. Eventually.” He was wrapped in blankets, sitting upright on the couch with his purple hair going every which way. Logan noted with some concern that without makeup, the shadows under his eyes were far darker than he had thought.

“Sugar would probably be inadvisable at this hour,” he frowned, sitting down anyways. “You very much need rest, Anxiety.”

“Hypocrite,” the other mumbled, leaning his head against Logan’s shoulder. His hair smelled of lavender, from the shower he’d taken a few hours earlier. “When did you last sleep, L?”

“Last night,” Logan told him, honest as he always was, as he had to be. “My unhealthy sleeping habits do not persist into the summer months -- I only employ them during the time of my court, so I can do everything needed of me.”

“Then why’re you ’wake now?” Anxiety pointed out, words slurring slightly.

“Stress, I suppose,” he said. “Why are you awake?”

“I’m Panic! At the Disco, ’cept I’m not at the disco,” grinned Anxiety tiredly, eyes shutting. “Get it?”

“You are not falling asleep against me sitting upright on the couch,” Logan hissed, flicking his forehead lightly. “It’s awful for your back. And if you were having extreme levels of anxiety, you could have alerted me. I would have been happy to help.”

“You’re warm, though,” the human whined. “Aren’t you supposed to be cold? You’re a winter dude! Let me have the warmth, I’ll use it better than you.”

“My body heat is a biological defense against the conditions I work in, being a ‘winter dude’, as you put it,” he deadpanned. “I believe your exhaustion, mixed with your half-asleep state, has served to deduct from your intelligence and lower your inhibitions.”

“L, listen, I’m far too tired to understand your smart talk, okay?” Anxiety yawned, leaning on him again. “Can we just go to bed? I’ve got school tomorrow.”

“Yes, as do I. I’m accompanying you, remember?” pointed out Logan, before sighing. “Listen, you’re going to be all sore in the morning if you fall asleep upright on the couch. If you insist on making use of my body heat, I would advise we relocate to your room.”

“Why, Logic,” grinned Anxiety, obviously attempting a sultry look but only managing to look mildly dead, what with the shadows under his eyes and how he was squinting to see Logan at all. “Are you inviting me to bed with you?”

“Oh, that’s it,” groaned Logan, standing. “Go to sleep, loser. I will see you in the morning”

“How dare you,” Anxiety protested, attempting to stand as well before getting his legs tangled in the blankets and falling face-first onto the rug. “Ow. Get back here, you living heater!”

“C’mon,” he sighed, tugging on Anxiety’s arms to pull him upright. “Grab your blankets, you dumbass. It’s too late for your shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans, he says,” muttered the human as he gathered the blankets and his pillow into his arms. “Cocky bastard. Like you aren’t just as much of an idiot.”

“Sure,” soothed Logan as they made their way up the stairs again. “There is only an infinitesimal gap in our intellect.”

“Don’t be rude,” Anxiety grumbled as he fell into his bed, curling up on one side. “I regret teaching you human slang, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, I figured,” he grinned, though he knew Anxiety probably couldn’t see it in the darkness, and got under the quilt beside him. “Good night, Anxiety.”

“Night, L,” he heard in muffled response, before the other let out a huff of a laugh. “No homo, right?”

“Oh, very homo,” Logan snorted, rolling his eyes. “Majorly gay.”

“In a platonic way, though,” sighed Anxiety, eyes already shut as he leaned his head on Logan’s arm.

He nodded, because body language didn’t count as lying, not for fey, and now was really not the time to have that discussion with Anxiety. “Ah -- I just nodded,” he made sure to say, in case the other hadn’t felt the motion.

Turns out Logan hadn’t required it, as the purple-haired male only replied with a tired mumbling, clearly already asleep. He’d really needed the rest, huh?

A few hours later, a shrill sound awakened Logan, and he blinked awake to see Anxiety fumbling with the old clock on the nightstand. It was still dark out. “What time is it?” he asked.

“2:30,” Anxiety replied, hitting a button before returning it to the bedside table. “Sorry -- that’s my normal alarm, forgot to turn it off. I reset it for six.”

“You’ve been getting up every morning at 2:30 AM?” he frowned, sitting up properly. “Anx-”

“Don’t worry about it, L,” he sighed in reply, pulling the patchwork quilt back up over his shoulders and turning to face Logan. “We’re sleeping, okay? We’re lying here quietly with our eyes closed and not arguing about my shitty sleep schedule while it’s still dark out.”

“We’re going to discuss this tomorrow,” Logan warned him, but his eyes were already shutting. He was tired too, as much as he hated to admit it while berating Anxiety on his sleeping habits. The other clearly knew, as he let out a quiet laugh and said, “Sleep tight, Logic.”

He tried to respond, but he couldn’t tell if any sound escaped his mouth before everything slipped away.

The second time he woke up, Anxiety was already gone, the alarm beeping quietly. He winced, staring at it -- the old thing looked metal, but he hated the sound, and he knew Anxiety, ever cautious, probably wouldn’t allow anything iron-based near Logan.

He reached over cautiously, gently touching it -- when no burning sensation occured, he found the button to shut the loud clock off. The silence was blissful.

Walking down the stairs a few minutes later, clothed in the attire Anxiety had given him the day before (which he had found on the dresser, folded neatly, and smelling of the strange clothing-soap that humans used) he found the human sitting at the dining table. He was still in his pajamas, one hand curled into his purple curls as the other scribbled something into a notebook.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked, peering at him through the enchanted glasses, and didn’t miss how Anxiety jumped at his voice. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he shrugged, calming slightly. “Just jumpy. Forgot you were here, for a sec.” He glanced down at the notebook, shutting it and standing. “I was writing. Haven’t had much time for it, lately.”

He didn’t reply to that, even though he felt his lips curl into a pensive frown -- he’d decided not to confront Anxiety about these things, not now. If he wanted to talk, he would. At least, Logan hoped he would.

“I see.”

“If you’re already up and dressed, I should probably get ready too,” the other yawned, moving past Logan towards the stairs. “I’ll be down in a few, okay? How do you feel about eggs?”

“They’re a rather strange shape,” he replied, shrugging. “I do not have particularly strong feelings about them either way, although I do prefer the bird variety to the insect -- they can be far prettier, especially bluebird eggs. They’re a lovely shade of blue.”

“I meant for breakfast, L,” Anxiety laughed, leaning over the banister to flick Logan on the forehead. “Go sit. I’ll be down in a few.”

It turned out that sitting quietly at the table was not entirely advisable -- it gave Logan far too much ability to think about how domestic this all was, how he had spent the night in the same bed as an incredibly pretty boy he very much liked, possibly in more than a platonic way, and how he now had to spend all day with the same person under the guise of being a friend from out of town. Logan wasn’t an idiot, either, so he knew that Anxiety’s friends (especially if one of them was Prince) were probably going to think the two of them were actually romantically involved, something he definitely would not be able to deal with right now.

Prince.

He had to focus on that issue, foremost. If the friend of Anxiety’s turned out to not be the Seelie, he could enjoy the day and return to the forest at nightfall, free to mull over his feelings for Anxiety in peace. If he was the faerie Logan knew…

Well. That would be a whole other story.

The walk to Torbrook’s high school had been peaceful, the two arriving relatively early. “We’ve got to check you in with the office,” Anxiety explained, leading Logan through halls lined with metal lockers. He bit his lip at the sight of them, careful to stay in the middle of the hallway. “I’ll do most of the talking -- do your best to look shy, okay? We don’t want them asking you too many questions.” He pushed open the doors to a large office. A woman sitting at a desk waved them through to the room just off of it. “Mr. Poppy wants to see you,” she said. “He’s got your friend’s schedule.”

“Thanks,” Anxiety nodded, pulling them through the doors to the new, smaller room.

“Anxiety!” exclaimed a balding man sitting at the desk, a cheerful smile across his face. “This must be your new friend, then, huh?”

“Yeah. Mr. Poppy, Logic. Logic -- this is our principal.” Anxiety said, shifting uncomfortably.

“It is nice to meet you,” Logan said, casting his eyes towards the ground and waving shyly. Let it be said that although he could not speak untruths, he had perfected lying through his body language and appearance. He could practically hear the man dismantling him in his head -- introvert, nerd, fairly quiet.

“Nice to meet you too, Logic,” the man replied, his smile never faltering. “So, have you recently moved to Torbrook?”

“I will be staying here for a time, yes,” the faerie nodded, adjusting his sleeves. “I may not be here long, but while I am I hope to attend your school.”

He had to pick his words carefully, cautious not to lie even as he had to trick this man. It was the kind of challenge he loved, whether he’d admit it or not.

“I see you filled out the necessary paperwork,” nodded Mr. Poppy, glancing through a file on his desk. “I have your schedule here -- you and Anxiety will be having all the same classes, don’t worry about that! -- so just take it, and he can show you around. Your teachers already know you’re coming, so don’t worry about a thing! And just one more thing -- says here you use he/him pronouns. That’s correct, right?”

“Yes, it is,” Logan nodded, rather surprised at how strangely easy the process had been. Wouldn’t human schools have more… restrictive practices for admitting new students? “Thank you.”

“My son is awfully excited to meet you,” Mr. Poppy grinned, holding out his hand for Logan to shake it. “He was ranting all last night about Anxiety bringing his boyfriend to town.”

Logan felt his face flame, and was suddenly very glad for the illusion covering his cheeks as Anxiety spluttered “Sleep said what?! We’re not -- he’s not-”

“We’re not dating,” he said, rescuing both of their dignities and struggling to keep his voice even. “Just childhood friends.”

“Ah,” Mr. Poppy nodded, chuckling. “Well, glad to meet you anyways. Have a good day, you two!”

“You too, Mr. Poppy!” Anxiety squeaked out, pulling them both out of the room, his face a very bright shade of red. “Oh god, that was a nightmare,” he sighed once they were in the hallway with the door shut behind them. “Boyfriend! I can’t believe Sleep -- I’m going to strangle him!”

“That is one of your friends, correct?” Logan asked, reading the schedule Mr. Poppy had handed him.

“Not anymore,” he grumbled. “C’mon, my friends and Sleep are all in the library right now, so we can go introduce you to them, and then class will start in-” he checked his phone, “-ten minutes.”

He followed Anxiety, who navigated the twisting halls effortlessly. Logan glanced around him, still careful not to get too close to the lockers -- he’d felt the touch of iron once before, as a child, and he still remembered how it had burned.

The library in town had been larger, but still, Logan didn’t think he’d ever get over the excitement of seeing so many books in one place. Anxiety snickered at him, tugging him towards a table in the back, where a person about Logan’s age was sleeping with his head resting on the table.

“Sleep,” Anxiety said to the sunglasses-wearing individual, shaking him gently. “Hey, rise and shine.”

“Anx?” mumbled the sleeping human, who lifted his head slightly before dropping it back onto the table. “Leave me to die here, girl, thanks. I’ve accepted this.”

“Logic, this is our resident dumbass,” Anxiety deadpanned, indicating Sleep with his hand. “It’s okay -- as far as we can tell, having no brain cells whatsoever hasn’t been detrimental to his health.”

Sleep rolled his head to look at Logan, before bolting upwards. “Holy shit, Anxiety, where’d you pick up that?”

“I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, a cold bolt of fear striking his heart. (Had he seen through the illusion? How? What had he done wrong?)

Sleep grabbed Anxiety’s sleeve, tugging him closer, grinning. With Logan’s heightened hearing, he could clearly hear Sleep’s excited whisper: “Listen, if you’re going to be bringing hot boys to school, you tell me!”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” sighed Anxiety, who must have been as nervous as Logan himself judging from how he relaxed even as his face turned pink. “Logic, Sleep. Sleep, this is my friend Logic, the one I did, in fact, tell you was coming.”

“You told me a friend of yours was coming to school -- I didn’t know he was going to be cute! You mention that shit to your bestie, Anx!” Sleep cried, apparently not caring if Logan heard him any longer.

“Mor’s my bestie” Anxiety rolled his eyes, swatting Sleep. “And stop objectifying Logic! Apologize, you asshole.”

Sleep huffed, turning to Logan. “Sorry, hon. I’m Sleep. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna come on to you -- I’m not a homewrecker, and you two are real cute together.”

“Oh for fucks sake, we’re not dating!” Anxiety exclaimed, saving Logan from having to think his way out of that one. “And for that matter, you can’t tell your dad we are, Sleep!”

“It is nice to meet you,” Logan said to the sunglasses-wearing human, finally spotting his chance to speak. “And Anxiety is correct -- we are not courting.”

“Courting? Oh God, he sounds like Prince,” Sleep muttered, before looking around. “Where are Prince and Mor, anyways?”

A shrill sound echoed through the school, harsh on Logan’s sensitive hearing, and he winced. “There’s the bell,” Anxiety frowned. “I guess they’re late, then.”

And so it was only in English that Logan saw him, slightly late, skidding into the classroom with a sweet smile and a mumbling about traffic.

Prince met his eyes, and something flashed deep within them. They no longer held intricate swirls of gold and red -- instead, they were a dark brown, an utterly human color. Still, Logan would recognize him anywhere.

It was obvious that Prince recognized him too, from how his eyes darted from Logan’s rounded ears to his dulled teeth, his softer features and newly colored eyes.

Sleep sat in front of him, napping already, and Anxiety sat at the desk besides Logan’s. No one else had seen fit to take notice of Logan after his introduction by the teacher as a new transfer student, and Mx. Cee was preoccupied glaring at Prince, tapping their foot as he handed them a note from the office.

So he allowed himself a wink, simultaneous greeting and warning.

I see you, it said. I know you.

Prince took an empty seat beside Sleep, unable to look at Logan without incurring Mx. Cee’s wrath, and Logan glanced over at Anxiety.

Is it him? Anxiety mouthed, glancing at their teacher, who was facing the whiteboard as they wrote something.

Logan only nodded.

“What on earth were you thinking?” he exclaimed, pacing in the empty classroom. Prince stood before him, Anxiety sitting on the teacher’s desk and watching both of them with wide eyes. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? Your brother has been frantic, and the Courts are on the verge of civil war because you’ve been gone! The Wolves have been using your absence to advocate for war, Prince. Deceit has been just barely able to talk them down while Talyn and Joan try to soothe the other fey.”

“Oh, you do not get to be all high and mighty now! I thought you hated the Wolves,” Prince snarled, glaring behind Logan. “Let Anxiety go! I can’t tell what magic you’re using on him, but it’s strong enough that you must have found out his true name. You know control is wrong, Logic!”

“You think I’m controlling Anxiety?” Logan asked, momentarily startled into stopping besides where said human sat, staring at Prince. “...Have you met him? He’s unbelievably stubborn. I doubt I could even if I wanted to!”

“Oh, shut up,” Anxiety grumbled, his eyes remaining on Prince and his knuckles turning white where his hands clenched the edge of the desk. “You know you love me.”

“See, it’s comments like that that make everyone think we’re together,” Logan rolled his eyes. “That is just as much your fault as mine, you… What was it? It was one of the flashcards. Something about a facet of human culture that you identify as?”

“Emo?” suggested the human, and Logan nodded.

“Ah, yes. You emo… disaster! Can disaster be used in that context? Okay, it’s not that funny, stop laughing.”

He didn’t even mind Anxiety’s snickering, really. If Logan’s poor memory for human slang made his friend laugh instead of panicking over Prince, he would utilize that. Even if it was rather demeaning.

“Wait, if you’re not controlling him, how did you convince him to help you?” Prince frowned, staring between them. “Anxiety’s not exactly the friendliest of people.”

“He can also hear you, asshole, and would like it if you didn’t talk about me like I’m not here,” retorted the purple-haired male, amusement forgotten as he glared at Prince. “Is that how you made us be friends with you, despite me being so unfriendly? Were you ‘controlling’ us? Does Mor even like you?”

“Of course not!” Prince exclaimed, looking so aghast that even Anxiety looked remorseful. “I would never stoop to such means, Anxiety! Not with you, or Sleep, and especially not with Morality. I… I could never hurt Mor in any way, nor have I, nor will I, ever. I swear it, both on my true name and my honor as a faerie.”

Logan and Anxiety exchanged looks. Prince couldn’t lie, like all fey, and such a specific statement left no grounds for doubt. The human, at least, seemed temporarily reassured, although he kept his eyes on Prince.

“What are you doing in Torbrook?” he finally asked after a beat of silence, removing his glasses with a sigh and leaning back against the absent instructor’s desk. Prince looked up at him sharply, about to speak, but Logan beat him to the punch, explaining “This room has been warded. All of us currently have break periods, and Anxiety has informed me this room is unused during this time, so I have ensured no one will enter, hear anything from it, or see inside. There is little need for extra caution.”

“You charmed glasses?” Prince asked instead, touching his fingers to his eyes and removing his contacts, his eyes reverting to the deep red and golds Logan knew. Anxiety’s jaw dropped, but both of the fey were kind enough not to mention it. “That’s clever, Microsoft Nerd. How’d you get them?”

Microsoft? he wondered, resolving to ask Anxiety about it afterwards. “They are Anxiety’s,” he said. “My clothes, as well. You’re deflecting the question, though -- why are you here? Is it because of your affection for this Morality, or… something else?”

Prince deflated, fidgeting with the sleeves of his crisp white jacket. “Joan and Talyn ordered me here,” he told them quietly, and Logan’s eyes widened. “It was to be a secret from all, including my family and friends. We could not risk mentions of my mission reaching the Wolves.”

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Anxiety said, leaning forwards from his perch. “Who are the Wolves?”

“They are a group of fey who have grown in power as of late,” Logan explained, not taking his eyes off Prince. “They are notorious for advocating for violence and cruelty against humans, including raiding Torbrook to crib-snatch, despite Joan and Talyn having outlawed such barbaric practices hundreds of years ago. We… We met one of their number, years ago. Remember Lady Belladonna?”

He knew Anxiety did -- for years, despite acting unaffected by the events of that day, the human had had nightmares of his near-kidnapping. He had told Logan one night when they were thirteen, lying together in their field and staring up at the stars, a picnic blanket beneath them.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Anxiety confessed, his body warm against Logan’s own, the cool air ruffling their hair.

“Why?” Logan asked, turning his head from the stars above to look at his friend. “I was under the impression humans require sleep like fey do, as something necessary to function properly. Is something the matter? Is it being out here? You can return to your home if you wish, Anxiety, I would not hold it against you.”

“No, no, I like being outside!” he protested, rolling onto his side to face the Unseelie, their eyes meeting in the darkness. “I usually sleep fine. It’s just that… Last night, I had a really bad dream.”

“Do you wish to speak about it?” inquired the faerie. “It is of course alright if you do not, but Advice is always telling me to speak about my problems or nightmares.” He let out a huff. “It does help, but still -- he is only older than me by four months, he is hardly allowed to act grown-up when we are the same age.”

Anxiety laughed quietly at that, but his smile fell as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Do you remember that time when… When I met Deceit? When the faeries tried to take me?”

Logan tensed at that, but he nodded. “Of course,” he said. How could he forget? The thought of it had kept him up for many a night, irrationally… well, anxious, at the idea.

“I sometimes have nightmares about it. About what could have happened,” Anxiety admitted, curling up on himself involuntarily. “If you hadn’t gotten there on time, if you had and they had hurt you, if you had died or something because of me-”

“But I did get there on time, and they were not able to injure me,” Logan told him, reaching out to hold Anxiety’s hand. “You’re my friend. I will not allow you to be harmed if there is any way I can stop it.”

“Aw, you sap,” Anxiety grinned. “You love me.”

“Of course,” Logan rolled his eyes. “My summers would be quite boring without you, and probably my winters as well.”

“Have you seen her since then?” the human boy asked after a beat, and with Logan’s night vision he could see a tear roll down Anxiety’s cheek. Judging from how quickly it was wiped away, his friend did not want it seen or mentioned -- Logan obliged him in the latter. “The woman, the one who wanted to… to hurt me?”

“Yes,” Logan nodded. Lady Belladonna. He would not speak her name aloud inside the forest, especially in the dark -- names had power, even for Unseelie, even in summer. “She is… politically active, is how I believe you would define it, in our Courts. Not successful, usually -- the rulers of both Seelie and Unseelie fey do not support her ideals.”

“Does she remember me?”

“No. As far as any of the three of them know, she cast a spell which backfired on all three of them. She hates to remember it or have it mentioned -- apparently, it was quite embarrassing.” He snickered at the thought. “I can’t tell whether she’d be more mortified by that or the truth: that a faerie no older than eleven managed to catch her off guard, attack her, change her memories, and frame her for the whole thing.”

“She’s never going to find out, though, L,” said Anxiety, frowning. “Right?”

“I promise,” he nodded, and the moon came out from behind a cloud, making the human’s eyes shine. “I told you I’d always protect you, remember?”

“And I’ll do the same for you, Logic,” smiled the other.

A cold breeze rustled through the trees as Logan asked “How are you supposed to do that? You’re human, remember?”

“Listen, just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m weak or something,” retorted Anxiety, flicking him on the forehead with his free hand. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Logan smirked, baring his sharp teeth, and Anxiety flicked him again, harder this time. “Ow! Weren’t you telling me about your human constellations?”

“You deserved it,” he grumbled, but his eyes returned to the stars, tracing his finger between them. “You see that one there? If you make kind of an X, with one of the sides short -- that’s Cygnus, the swan.”

Logan fell asleep that night to Anxiety’s voice telling him stories of the stars, and when the sun awoke him the next morning the human was asleep too, leaves in his hair and his hand in Logan’s own.

“Wait, how long have you two known each other?” Prince asked, looking between the two of them and snapping Logan out of his memories with the question. “What do you mean you met Belladonna years ago?”

“That’s not super important right now, Princey,” Anxiety rolled his eyes. “Can we focus on the actual issues at hand?”

Prince glared at him, turning to Logan with his arms crossed. “Logic, tell me now, or I won’t tell you anything else.”

“...Anxiety and I have been interacting for the better part of seven years,” he confessed after a beat, ignoring Prince’s offended gasp and Anxiety’s facepalm. “But I have never allowed it to divert me from my duties, and I have only traveled to Torbrook now, after hearing about you from him.”

“You hypocrite,” the Seelie exclaimed, clearly offended. Logan sighed. They did not have time for this. “Seven years? Alright, get off your high horse Mr. ‘Oh, Prince, Why Would You Ever Go Interact With The Humans? It’s So Dangerous!’ Seven years!”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” he asked, but Prince wasn’t done yet.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Deceit, as he was there when Belladonna attempted to take Anxiety, but I erased his memories-”

“Deceit?!” Prince cried, hand to his heart as he cut off Logan. “Before me? Logic, how could you?”

“I just explained his memories were erased-”

“Me, the greatest of your friends-”

“You never have been, and never will be, the greatest of my friends.”

“-not told about your secret boyfriend! How could you?”

“Anxiety and I are not courting, Prince, we have established this repeatedly!”

“And then you have the gall to tell me I’m irresponsible for going off and getting a boyfriend!”

“We thought you were dead,” Logan snapped, and Prince’s rant came to a halt at that. “No, actually, we didn’t know what to think, because you were gone and hadn’t told Duke, or Advice, or Deceit, or me where you were going, you hadn’t told anyone, and Joan and Talyn had clearly been trying to keep the little fact that you were missing under wraps. We’re nearly in at war because of you, Prince, so yes, I’m going to be a bit mad that while we were preventing Duke from tearing apart the realm and navigating unrest from the Wolves, Seelie, and Unseelie, you were off kissing a human and having a grand old time!”

“Logic-” Prince began, subdued, but Logan wasn’t done, and he was sick and tired of being interrupted.

“Yes, I have known Anxiety for seven years. I never let it divert me from my work, I never up and disappeared because of it, and I never risked coming into Torbrook for it. I only did that when I heard you might be here, because again, we thought you were dead!” He felt a hand (belonging to the purple-haired male, no doubt) on his back, tapping a gentle beat into the skin, and he recognized it in the back of his mind -- 4, 7, 8, a technique Anxiety had taught him many years ago, and the same one he had led the human through just a few days past. He calmed, continuing after a beat, “I understand that Talyn and Joan sent you here for a reason, based on your earlier statement. I apologize for snapping at you -- it is not as if you could defy them, after all.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Lo,” Prince said, crestfallen. “I had no idea, I thought -- I assumed they would figure out a way to hide or mask my absence. My quest was so sudden, I had no time to ensure they did.”

“It’s alright,” Logan told him with a sigh, and at the skeptical look on both the Seelie and human’s faces, he rolled his eyes. “Truly, it is. But I would like to know what was so vital that you had to come to the home of the humans to do it.”

“There is something strange going on in this town,” Prince began, rolling his eyes at Anxiety’s mutter of “No shit, Sherlock.” “Not just your sleep schedule, Michael Mell-ancholy.”

“Be more chill, Princey, getting worked up doesn’t suit you,” Anxiety smirked, and Logan sighed.

“What do you mean by strange?” he asked, reaching over to where Anxiety sat beside him and lightly swatting his friend on the leg.

“Do you ever think about how fey have never tried to go anywhere other than Torbrook?” Prince leaned forwards, an unusual seriousness transforming his features. “It’s weird, isn’t it? We never try to make our way into other locales, even though this town knows how to defend against us by now. Even the Wolves don’t try to get further into the human world. Why do we all stay here?”

“The only portal is to the forest here,” Logan responded, but even as he said it, he frowned. There had to be other entrances to the human world -- not all stories of his kind had originated from Torbrook, after all. But then… “What happened to all the others?”

“See, that’s what I asked, too,” Prince nodded. “Turns out, no one knows. Talyn and Joan have been searching for the other entrances to Earth for centuries, but the only active one they’ve ever been able to find is here. They asked Deceit and I to check the records a few years ago, and that’s where it gets even weirder -- all the other doorways vanished at the same time this one became notedly popular for fey to travel though. Torbrook is the last portal from our realm to this one, and no one knows why, or how.”

Logan stared at him, eyes wide. “And we’ve never tried to get past this place,” he said slowly. “We’ve never tried to leave, to see the world. We’ve just… accepted being in this place.”

It went against faerie nature, this idea of stability, of constants. Fey were tricksters, and travellers -- and now that Logan thought about it, in the old stories, they were loners, just like he would normally classify himself to be.

And now they clustered together in a forest, content to lurk in a single place, barely leaving the trees because they feared the iron, being caught, being hunted. They feared humans.

“What has been done to us?” Logan asked quietly, nails digging into his palms.

“We thought… We thought originally it was the humans’ fault,” Prince said, equally low, with a guilty glance at Anxiety, who seemed to have caught on to the truth, judging by the look on his face. He’s always liked stories, especially of fey, Logan thought. It would make sense, him putting the pieces together. “But then we recalled that humans can’t seem to leave Torbrook either, not permanently, and how distressed that seems to make them. How, as much as they hate it here, they all remain.”

Anxiety and Logan exchanged looks, both remembering their conversation of a few days ago, and Anxiety’s own anguish at his inability to leave Torbrook.

“We can’t, no,” Anxiety shook his head, sliding down from his perch on the desk to stand beside Logan. “Are you saying we’re all trapped in this hellhole?”

“It certainly looks that way,” Prince nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Talyn and Joan want me to figure out why. But I… Well, clearly, I haven’t had much luck.” He stared at the table before him, tapping his painted nails on the wood nervously.

Logan and Anxiety had been able to have silent conversations since they were children. Perhaps it was being friends for so long or truly something more, but as they exchanged looks, Logan knew exactly what the other was thinking. He agreed, of course.

“We’re going to help you,” Anxiety said, for the both of them.

“You are?” Prince asked, surprise flashing through his eyes. Logan held back a frown at that -- it made the other faerie seem vulnerable, as if he’d been expecting both of his friends (at least, Logan liked to think he was Prince’s friend, and he could tell Anxiety certainly was) to abandon him, despite his clear distress.

“Of course,” Logan replied. “I believe we are… buddies, as you might say, and you appear to need aid. It is a rather momentous task, especially since the humans have spent years unable to deduce their own inability to leave Torbrook, and we would be happy to help. Although, you will have to inform your brother and the Courts that you are alright, sooner rather than later, to maintain my cooperation.”

“Are we still friends?” He was looking not at Logan, but at Anxiety, bearing an almost desperate expression, and the human’s face softened.

“I hope so,” Anxiety said. “I’m sorry I accused you of controlling Morality and Sleep and I. Even I should have realized that was unfair, especially since I was able to question it in the first place. Besides…” He laughed. “I see how much Mor likes you, and I doubt magic could fake that. I can’t see you using that to make him gush about you in private, either -- that would be incredibly self-centered, even for you.”

“He talks to you about me?” asked Prince, with such a lovestruck look that Logan had to resist the urge to gag. “What does he say?”

“Not the point,” Anxiety rolled his eyes. “Ew, get that look off your face.”

“Ah, yes. Er…” The other had enough grace to be flustered, clearing his throat as he returned his contacts to his eyes, the magic shimmering as the spell on the small items spread to mask their color entirely. “It’s alright, Anxiety. Your fear was not unfounded, after all, given my true nature, and I would not have reacted well in your place. No apology necessary.”

“I still was a dick though,” said Anxiety, before he checked his watch and straightened abruptly. “It’s almost time for theatre,” he gasped. “I promised Mariposa I’d be there early to make sure we’ve got all the props set up before we start. Princey, can you show Logic the way? We’ve got shared schedules, and I can put him to work painting sets or something.”

“Sure,” the Seelie nodded, waving as Anxiety sprinted out of the room, before turning to Logan with a grin. “So. You and Anx?”

“What are you implying?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he put his glasses back on. “I have told you repeatedly we are not in a romantic relationship.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to be, though,” Prince reminded him, resting his cheeks on his fists with an infuriating smile. “Does Tall, Dark, and Serious have a crush on his little human friend?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Logan snapped, moving towards the door. “Come, we must get to class.”

He’d forgotten just how quick Prince was -- the smaller faerie moved to block his path, looking up at Logan. “Just say it,” the faerie whispered gleefully. “Just say, ‘I don’t have a crush on Anxiety,’ and I’ll let you be, Logic.”

Well, shit.

Logan’s silence was all the answer Prince needed, the Seelie letting out a gleeful cheer. “Aw!” he squealed. “I told Anxiety he’d find himself a Romeo, but I didn’t expect him to be so true to the tale!”

“I certainly hope I’m not Romeo,” he sighed. “He was far older than Juliet, firstly, and their story also ended with a double suicide.”

That response only seemed to make Prince more amused, as he was still saying something about him and Anxiety apparently being perfect for each other when Logan grabbed him by the ear and pulled him out of the classroom, dissipating the wards with a wave of his hand. “Ow!”

“You are going to tell me where we are supposed to be headed to,” Logan told him, crouching slightly so he and the short faerie were at eye level in the empty hallways. “And then you will not say a word to Anxiety.”

“But I could set you up or something!” Prince protested, hands on his hips. “C’mon, Lo, you’d be so cute together!”

“He has enough on his plate without dealing with me,” Logan shook his head. “Besides, not only am I quite certain he is not interested in me romantically, he also is hoping to go off to college by next year, provided that he has enough money saved for both himself and his grandmother, and can acquire a scholarship. If we cannot solve this issue before then, I do not want to endanger his dreams.”

“...Why is he saving for his grandmother?” asked Prince with a frown, playful nature lost. “I knew he was saving for college, but she has a job that’s supported them both for years. Mor told me she’s an artist of some sort, and it apparently sells quite well.”

Logan stared at him. “You don’t know?” he said, ice filling his veins.

“Know what? Is Robin okay? I’ve only met her a few times, but she’s absolutely lovely. I haven’t seen her since December, of course, because that’s when Anxiety started his job and we stopped picking him up…” His words trailed off, his eyes full of concern and worry.

Fuck, Logan thought. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Clearly, Anxiety hadn’t told his friends about his grandmother’s sickness, or her indefinite stay in the hospital. It wasn’t Logan’s secret to share, he knew that, and though he and Anxiety would have words about this (He had thought Anxiety would tell his friends, of course he had! But if he hadn’t… Had he told anyone? How long had he been dealing with all of this completely alone?) he wasn’t about to spill the human’s secrets to Prince.

“He’s been worried about her ability to care for herself as of late,” he said, choosing his words very carefully. “She is fine,” (hadn’t Anxiety told him recently she was doing well and past the danger threshold, only being held in the elderly hospital for ease of treatment?) “but he gets quite anxious, you know how he is.”

“Oh.” The Seelie relaxed, his concern now seemingly directed at Logan and oh no, ew, feelings-

“I hardly think you’d be endangering his dreams,” Prince told him, offering Logan a comforting pat on the upper arm, probably because he couldn’t comfortably reach the Unseelie’s shoulder. “He might as well be the posterboy for a gay disaster, he could use a boyfriend for support in these trying times!”

The bell rang, and students began to flood the halls. Logan sighed. “I hardly think that would help his stress,” he said. “Now, show me to this classroom, and do not breathe a word of this to Anxiety, or anyone else.”

“Okay,” Prince smirked, leading Logan through the halls.

“Swear it,” Logan growled.

“Oh, fine,” the Seelie rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone about that conversation we just had, none of it at all. I swear it. Even though I will be trying to set up you two, because honestly you guys will be the cutest thing this town has seen since Morality and I!”

“Don’t you dare!” he hissed, glaring at Prince, who simply laughed in response.

Deep in his mind, Logan let out a sigh of relief. He had been truly worried about Prince -- finding him was truly a relief, even if the news that accompanied it wasn’t.

For a moment, his thoughts darted away from his cautious grasp, pushing forwards wayward dreams. What if he could leave these woods, and Torbrook itself? Could he visit Anxiety, when he was off at college? Would he be able to join the human, if he decided to leave Torbrook permanently?

Could they have something together?

That was when he grabbed the reins again, steering his mind away from that particular train of thought. It was foolish to consider such things now, especially since Anxiety was a human. He would long outlive the other, as a faerie, and he knew such a thing would kill him if he allowed himself to get too close. Imagining a life with Anxiety, idyllic as it was, also came with imagining his death, and the millenia Logan would face without him.

It was better if he didn’t consider it at all, really.

So he followed Prince through the halls, shoving thoughts of his friend out of his mind -- for Logan did not love him. He couldn’t.

They would not be Romeo and Juliet, not now, not ever.

That was how the story would have to be.

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tinybean23 · 4 years

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Me and Yuu Every Step of the Way

According to some Tiger Eye Stones are used to help soothe anxiety, help with self esteem issues, a symbol of protection, and can dispel fear. They can come in shades ranging from golden yellow to red; including brown with black stripes across it. ALSO: For maximum effect listen to dusk till dawn by zayn & sia (slowed + reverb) I was jamming to this song in the background during some scene since it fit the mood.(this is the version I listened to)

youtube

As always, in my first post I have a link there to this posted on AO3, I even have wattpad now as well, this story posted under the same name. Please enjoy chapter 2.

WARNING: PANIC ATTACK MENTIONED

Chapter 2: We Always Figure it Out in the End

First thing he saw was Noya’s spiky hair standing proudly much like the libero himself. Choruses of apologies leaving his lips when students lept out of the way of the third year. Feeling awful for the trouble he was causing he began to slow down his pace until he heard Noya’s voice.

“ASAHI!” Noya yelled when he noticed him in the sea of people.

A dopey smile spread across despite the anxiety that had a death grip on his heart. Picking up pace once more, the second thing he saw was Noya’s grin upon seeing Asahi making his way over. More lovely than the sun setting over the valley for which he’s named after, painting the town in wonderful shades of orange and red. He could feel his heart swell as he opened his arms for a hug as Noya sprinted full force into his arms. The third thing he saw when he looked at Yuu was the sparkle in his rich brown eyes, the dilation in his pupils that were so full of love. The countless hours he had gotten lost looking at them when a ray of sun shone in them reminding him of the brown tiger stone Noya had gifted him on his birthday. He couldn’t have picked a better stone for me huh? Putting him down he took Noya’s hand as they walked out the gates hand and hand to his house.

“I’m serious Asahi, what do you want for your birthday? If I hear you say one more time you don’t want anything I’m gonna rip my hair out.”

“Yuu, my birthday is weeks away. Besides I already told you I have everything I could ever want. I have you by my side, your love, what else could I ask for except to have you with me wherever I went.” Pulling him in for a hug, resting his chin on his head.

“Is that all you want?” He could feel Noya move his head letting out a sigh,”Babe, I love you but you being so cheesy is infuriating right now.” He smiled feeling the chuckles that escaped his boyfriend's mouth. Until realizing that those chuckles meant trouble pulling away slowly to see a smirk. “So you want a piece of me then?”

“YUU!” He could hear the roaring laughter even as the blood began to pound in his ears.

“I’m sorry Asahi, but I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity. You’re adorable when you’re shy, I promise I’ll find something perfect for your birthday.”

“You’re too much Yuu…” With that they parted ways feeling warm despite the icy air blowing around. He hadn’t really expected Noya to give him something he would truly love as the boy was stubborn enough to give him anything just to show up with something. It was in this moment he could remember feeling the jolts dancing on his skin for the first time.

“This is a brown tiger eye stone...Noya, where did you get this?” Taking it into his palm tracing his thumb across it’s smooth surface.

“Do you like it?” He noticed the younger male biting his lip struggling to maintain eye contact.

“Yuu...do you know what this stone represents?” Observing streaks of gold and black popping against the rich brown color of the stone.

“That's irrelevant! I want to know if you like the gift...I didn’t know if you’d want a bracelet, a necklace, or whatever else it can be used for so I just got the stone.” Impatience bubbling from the libero staring straight at him.

“I love it Yuu. It’s...It’s perfect, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.” Pulling him into a crushing hug, “I don’t know how you managed to do it, but I’m gonna carry this everywhere I go. Thanks Yuu”

“It’s nothing Love, when you said you wanted me to be by your side I figured I’d get you something that reminds you of me. I thought of a lightning bolt keychain but that's more something I’d prefer. Then I thought of a plush but you’re much too shy to carry that around even if you did like it. Then I remember how much you adore talking about gemstones whenever we watch Project Runway talking about how they complimented dresses and themes. So I figured I’d just pick a stone you could keep with you....”

“Yuu…” Pulling away, staring into coffee orbs that widened as he rubbed his cheek with his thumb. “I love you” Leaning in for a kiss, capturing Yuu’s lips as the pounding in his chest and the fuzziness in his mind muddling everything. In that moment nothing else mattered, he didn’t need to hear his response as tongues danced, arms wrapping around his neck, and the struggles to breathe. In that moment words weren’t needed to say I love you too , only the actions they shared. Yes, it was that moment where he first felt those butterflies spread their wings and scatter in his stomach. The first time he felt something foreign begin to bloom in his thoughts and in his stomach.

“Asahi, we are here.” Noyas voice pulls him out of his trance, sporting a smirk. “What were you thinking about? You couldn’t stop smiling the whole way. I tried to talk to you but whatever was on your mind must’ve been something you really love.”

“I’m sorry Yuu, I didn’t mean to ignore you the whole way” He quipped before bowing.

“I don’t mind as long as I’m the reason you have a goofy grin and lovestruck eyes.” Chuckling at his face reddening in response to the teasing.

“Yuu…what else could I ever think about?” Sighing as he opened the door to let them in. ”Let’s go to my room....there’s something I need to tell you”. For the first time Yuu didn’t tease him for the comment opting to mutter a ‘yes’ following Asahi.

To say he was nervous was the understatement of the year, he was petrified with every step they took towards the room. The confidence abandoning him being replaced with doubt as they entered, and completely filled him as he locked the door. The room filled with unease as they placed their things on the table. Noya made his way to the bed laying down letting out a sigh of content, the action awakening feelings and desires. He doesn’t know what face he’s making when Noya looks at him and he lets out a gasp. Averting his gaze, he plops down,making himself comfortable on the floor. For a moment no words are exchanged yet the silence couldn’t be more deafening. His shallow breathing began to fill the room as he struggled to find the words he had spent preparing.

“Asahi, look at me.” He could feel Noya’s cool palm against his heated skin he reached to hold, ”Breathe. Can you tell me where you are?” Closing his eyes he steadied his breath as Noya cupped his face in turn rubbing away tears he hadn’t been aware were shed.

“We are in my room?”

“What can you see?” He could feel the feelings flowing through him as the amber rays filled the room.

“Asahi what are 5 things you can see?” Noya lowered his voice attempting to soothe him. After going through their usual routine when his anxiety would spike he felt grounded once more. “I’m here for you Asahi, no matter what.” Resting his forehead against his, eyelashes fluttering closed with one hand still rubbing his cheek and on his shoulder as support to prevent them from tumbling forward. “Don’t push yourself, we have all night to talk, no need to rush it okay?” Trembling he nodded,”I wanna hear you say it Asahi”

“I...I know Yuu” He got on his knees to pull Noya into a hug as he felt the other squeeze him tight. They stayed for what felt like hours till he finally pulled away meeting the other’s gaze soaking the sight before him. No matter how many times he saw those warm colors he swore it felt like the first time. Yuu’s spiky hair with his signature golden streak being complimented by the rosy reds, the oranges that covered his skin, with the pale yellows causing a halo to surround him; he swore that he was the most blessed man in the world. Taking his hands into his own relishing in the moment as he felt a bump against his forehead. Breathing in he could smell the gel that Yuu used to create his signature spiky look and felt a wave of comfort wash over him.

“Hello my Teddy Bear, I’m glad to have you back with me.” Planting a kiss on his forehead they locked eyes, “Feeling better?”

“Yes...thank you so much Yuu, I really needed that”

“Anytime Asahi. Listen you don’t need to tell me anything, even if we didn’t go to practice it’s no big deal.”

“But Yuu-”

“Asahi, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready because I’m sure no matter what it is we can work through it together as always. We are in this together supporting each other as much as we can. You’re never alone even if you can’t tell what’s completely going on.” Feeling another kiss, this time on the lips, he felt the waves come back again as they sat in silence. He took a breath in heaving out as the same fire before erupting in his chest. I want to tell him, I need to tell him how I feel because we are in this together. We promised to take it day by day sorting things out at our own pace. He’s here for me as I am for him, he always is here no matter what.

“I want to Yuu, I need to tell you this” Shocking himself with the determination spilling into him. Nodding his head, Noya motioned for Asahi to continue observing him as he scrambled to get words. “Yuu, you know how I said I was Asexual….”

“Of course. You reminded me when we first started to date, and it’s always present when we are testing out boundaries.” He swallowed the lump in his throat knowing it was do or die.

“What if...what if I said I’m...n-not sure anymore?” Averting his eyes, he pulled away from Noya opting to sit back down as he fiddled with his fingers.

“Asahi?” He heard Noya shift on the bed accompanied by a thump as Noya joined him on the floor. “Where is this coming from?

“I-...I’ve been feeling...weird for a while. I-” Feeling the tortuous heat bursting all over him as he shuts his eyes reliving those moments all over again. “I...I’ve never felt this way before, a-and it scares me but at the same time...it’s pleasant in a way? I’m not making sense I know, I’m just so confused! I-I swear all this time I was sure I was asexual, and I swear I wasn’t..I didn’t mean to lie to you...I-” Feeling something being slipped into his hands, he could feel the smooth stone in between his finger tips.

“You didn’t lie Asahi.”

“But I said I was a-”

“And I said I was straight before, remember?”

Staying silent he began to rub the soothing stone feeling the cool surface against his skin, letting his shoulders relax. He met Noya’s eyes motioning for him to continue with a wave before looking at the stone again.

“Remember when we first met I told you I was straight and wouldn’t stop flirting with Kiyoko alongside Ryu?” He could feel a familiar barb of jealousy poke at his heart recalling how his heart sank when he realized his crush on Noya.

“Yeah?”

“How did you react when I first told you that I wasn’t sure anymore?”

“I don’t see…”

“Asahiiii please” Stealing a glance at Noya he could see him in the middle of an eye roll as he had crossed his arm shaking his head. “Just answer the question”

“Well.” Scratching the back of his neck as he was being transported back in time.

Practice had ended when they were tasked with locking up for the night allowing them to be alone. As they walked home Noya was unusually quiet opting to walk in silence. He was unnerved as the libero always rambled about his day mentioning any interaction with Kiyoko. Worried he had done something to upset him Noya came to a halt spinning around so fast it made him flinch.

“Asahi.”

“Yes?”

“How do you know if you’re into guys?”

Asahi felt his soul leave his body at the question, as what could only be described as gay panic stopping any thought process.“I’m sorry?”

“Nevermind.” Turning around he started to walk away.

“Noya! I didn’t mean it in a bad way...it's just I thought you said you were straight? Don’t you have a crush on Kiyoko?” Seeing the way he stiffened at his words Asahi tried again, “I’m not saying it's a bad thing if you are into guys Noya.” Stop talking, his mind yelled at him as he mumbled, “I...I think guys are pretty c-cool too.”

This seemed to catch the libero’s attention as he stopped walking, turning to face him. “How did you know you liked dick?”

“I’m not gay if you’re asking.”

“You like guys only though? You said so yourself the other day, or did I misunderstand you?”

“Those are different things Noya.” Sighing as he realized he would be home late for dinner, pointing to a bench he motioned for Noya to join him.

“What? Isn’t that the same thing?” Staring at him as he sat down.

“No, there’s a difference between what you asked me and me liking guys.”

“Uh-huh”

“Let me explain, I am asexual and I don’t feel sexual attraction to anyone.”

“But then how can you be attracted to guys?”

“I’m getting there Noya, but despite not feeling anything in that...way, I do have romantic interest in guys. Think of it like this; I wanna date that person, spend m-my life with them, and act as a couple only I don’t wanna have...relations with them.” Feeling the blood rush to his ears he could feel his heart pounding.

“So like waiting to screw until marriage?”

“No. You can’t help but feel no attraction to someone in the way you wanna sleep with them That doesn’t mean you don’t wanna kiss them or hug them tho and...I’m sorry, I’m probably just confusing you more.” Mumbling as he glanced in the other direction scratching his neck in embarrassment.

“I think I sort of understand?” Noya resting his chin on his hand, his eyebrows tight as if he were solving a puzzle.

“Don’t worry about it, um...you asked how I knew if I liked guys?” Getting a nod in response he swallowed,”Well it’s pretty typical but I...I just had a crush in my old school.”

“How do you know if it’s a crush?”

“W-Well, it’s just the way you feel towards Kiyoko, only it’s a guy. There’s no difference between liking a guy or gal” Biting down he could feel jealousy shooting through him as he started to wonder if there was a guy that Noya was interested in. Looking to the ground he waited for him to respond.

“If I do...and let's say I have for a while...am I a creep?”

“What?”

“I…” Fidgeting in his seat Noya looked down, “I am always hugging them, hanging out with them, and always complimenting them. If I do like guys...does that mean I’m overstepping boundaries because they...they don’t know?”

“Of course not Noya! You just said it yourself, you weren’t aware of your own feelings until recently. Even if you were aware, as long as the other person isn’t uncomfortable with the contact it’s fine...you aren’t a creep for treating them as a friend. You hug, hangout and compliment everyone you meet because that's who you are…” He bit back the urge to ask him who the boy was, and if he knew him. “That doesn’t make you a liar Noya…”

“It just means you are discovering something new about yourself…”lifting his head up he could see Noya staring back with a fire in his eyes.

“And what else?”

“We can be wrong but we are only human and you shouldn’t beat yourself over something you had no control over.”

“Asahi can you do me a favor? Take your own advice, and stop acting as though you are some sort of bad guy for having feelings everyone, including me, have.” Going to sit in front of him, Noya grabbed his hand, bringing it up to plant a kiss on it. “Honestly if I hadn’t seen the look on your face earlier, I will admit, I would have been confused as to what you were talking about.”

“What look?”

“Oh? You didn’t think I saw you staring at me with eyes that screamed let-”

“YUU NO!” Burying his face into his hands as he heard laughter fill the room. “You can’t just say those things out loud!”

“Why not? I was just answering your question.” Feigning innocence, Noya just batted his eyes at him.

“What does this mean then...for us?”

“Hm?”

“What does this change for us...moving forward I mean. Since you know that I…” Gulping hard he felt a playful smack to the back of his head.

“Like I said before, we will figure it out together, whatever happens will happen. We can just keep testing out the waters like we always do. I may not know a lot about asexuality but you can confide in me as we try to figure out what this means for you. Just as I trusted you when you helped me figure out that I was bisexual, and celebrating when I figured out who I was.” Pulling him into a hug he could feel the love and care Noya held for him.”It’s just not me either, the whole team, even if they’ll tease you at first, will all support you through this. Even if you find out you’re not asexual we will accept you with open arms.”

“Thank you…” They stayed in the embrace till his mom yelled for them to come down for dinner, after sharing a peck, they made their way downstairs hand in hand. No matter what comes their way they are ready to take it on, after all, who could ask for a better partner.

As Noya predicted, the day he confessed about his questioning he was met with wolf whistles and snickers telling them to use protection whenever the pair was left alone. Tanaka went as far as handing him a condom telling him to be gentle almost making him collapse right then and there. Other than that the team wouldn’t pry into his labels and on occasions shared advice on how they found out what they were, even going as far as to share with him terms they had found while doing their own research. None of them seemed to stick until he came across a list of flags with one titled ‘Demisexual’, it had a similar color scheme to the ace flag but the shade of gray was lighter. Having caught his interest he searched up what does demisexual mean; Demisexual means one cannot experience sexual attraction without first having a deep emotional bond. Soon he was reading articles, watching videos, and after days he had come to the conclusion that he was indeed demisexual. It explained a few things like how even when in past relationships he never felt attracted to his partners even if they themselves were. How he would catch himself thinking about his closer friends who he got along well with. Even explained why he wasn’t attracted to Noya at the beginning but now being unable to get those thoughts out of his head. Hell that would explain why the tiger stone was a turning point, after all, it had shown just how much Yuu cared for and knew him. He smiled, finally finding a label for himself after being thrown into confusion when he first accepted the desires after pushing them away. Quickly sending a text to Noya he felt a twitch of fear flash but disappeared as fast as it came. No matter what changes they were gonna adjust and continue creating a foundation of trust. After all, in this relationship, it was him and Yuu every step of the way.

#asahi azumane #asahi x nishinoya #asanoya #nishinoya yuu #fluff #meandyuu

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