#and then YA books never have like.. nice covers under the dust jackets so it's just huh

[lovetaled-a]

...  paperbacks or hardcovers ?

#hear me out: hardcovers no #i will buy them if i love the books so much that i just want them on my shelf #for the pretty pages or dust jacket #but i honestly hate dust jackets... nothing about them makes sense while reading #either you take the whole thing off or you crinkle and wear it out while you read #and then YA books never have like.. nice covers under the dust jackets so it's just huh #i am pre-ordering chain of thorns because grace is on the cover and i'm thrilled #bUT THE PAPERBACKS for this series are 10x better ... the spine art #the font size in the books is better imo too and i actually have seen typos in the hardcovers #but not the paperbacks?? #and i know publishers purposefully will wait like 11+ months to release the paperback version #so they can make more money off the hardcovers #but they're just ... not as good and i always end up selling my new releases and getting paperbacks instead #sighing here #and when it's a book you'd refer back to a lot it feels like paperbacks make more sense because you can wear out the spine #it shows less #however this is not to be confused with mass market paperbacks which are too tiny and impossible to read #⋆ 🦋 ◝ ooc. ◟ here to romanticize unhingedly.

[liibrii]

Built for eternity  

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that. 

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light. 

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do! 

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged? 

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“ 

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass- 

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him. 

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too. 

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hqcorenet #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fluff #inarizaki x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #I wrote this very quickly #but it made me laugh so many times #djasf I love Tsumu #libri scribbles

[seokiloquy]

Green or Gold - Sakusa Kiyoomi

AU: Royal + Butler

Requested (I had a Butler Sakusa idea in my head so I'm happy that he was requested)

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader,

Word Count: 13.1k+

“Drat, where is that child? (Y/N)! Your parents request your presence! (Y/N)!”

The poor butler ran around the palace gardens, desperately searching for the young royal through the shrubbery. His white gloves tore as they got caught on the thorns of rose bushes. He sneezed as the pollen got in his nose, mentally cursing the active 4, going on 5, year-old for making him run around without his mask.

“Snip.”

The butler’s dark curls bounced as he looked up. His son, age 7, carried a single-handed clipper in his two hands and chopped off the odd twig and branch that stuck out of the rose bush’s neat shape. The young boy kept his eyes on the pants, meticulously trimming as he sniffed underneath his mask.

The butler, Daiki, sighed. “Kiyoomi, have you seen the young royal?”

The boy paused for a moment, eyes shifting to the side before shaking his head silently. The older man whined.

“That rascal. The king will very well take my head if I don’t find his kid soon.”

The small Sakusa giggled quietly into his mask. His father leaned down to peck his head before standing straight and flicking the sleeves of his suit jacket and running off. Beckoning calls for the young royal followed him.

A small rustle was heard overhead, causing Kiyoomi to look up at the pink petals of the garden’s only cherry blossom tree. Within the bloom, a pair of small legs swung in time to airy giggles.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t be hiding from the king.”

Your voice chirped like the birds that hopped cautiously around you. “I’m not hiding!” Kiyoomi tilted his head up just in time to see the birds fly off at your little screech. “I’m just not being found.” You let out small harrumphs as you tried to step your leg onto the nearest branch.

The small leaves at the end of the branch rustled as your weight was added. “Ah, how did—?”

Kiyoomi watched your head swivel wildly as you look for your next step. “How did you even climb up there?” Setting down the clippers he came to stand beneath you.

“I,” your bottom lip jutted out, and your brows pinched, “I don’t know! Help me!”

The curly-haired boy sighed into his mask, before pulling it beneath his chin. The pollen, though bothersome, could be dealt with easily. He reached his arms up as high as he was able. “Jump.”

“Jump? That’s scary.” You hugged the tree trunk a little tighter. The bark scratched the expensive material of your sleeves. Looking closer, Kiyoomi could see little tears and stains everywhere.

He sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid of falling.” Seeing you hesitate, he turned to the rose bush, snipping the stems of one of the flowers. Breaking off the thorns, he raised his arm to present you with the bright red rose. “I’ll even give you this flower when you jump down. Don't worry, I’ll be here to catch you.”

“Will you? Forever?” Your hands shifted to let you sit on the shaky branch.

“Forever. Now jump.” 

“Now, unlike the king and queen, your position doesn’t hold any power in the legal sense. Many people look your way for social etiquette, fashion, and overall trends,” your tutor drawled on, scratching a small piece of chalk against the dusty mobile blackboard. 

The palm of your hand felt warm and plush against your cheek, but the wood table underneath your elbow was not. Your eyes wandered over the tall book filled wall of the library and the ornate carvings on every available surface. The lateral light bathed every detail in a cool glow. An armless statue peaked over your teacher’s board, glaring. You were about to pay attention when a soft rolling sound hit the back of your head and echoed through the giant library. You turned.

Kiyoomi, your ever stoic personal butler, silently wiped down the surfaces of shelves and the covers of books while standing perfectly straight on an inclined rolling ladder. You pinched your lips between your teeth, trying to stop the pointed smile that was inching its way onto your face.

You spun in your seat. “Now, as you turn 19 your participation in such events will skyrocket—” You pressed your left hand into the centre spine of your book, then took your right to pinch the corner of the page. Silently, as your teacher’s back was turned, you ripped the page out. Jotting a quick note onto the lines of the page, you eagerly crumpled the sheet into a ball and turned. 

Pulling your good arm back, you send the paper ball through the air and into the back of Kiyoomi’s head. 

Kiyoomi, raised in the family that had been by yours for generations, had taken up the very position his parents had been in for decades prior. While his father remained the best friend and right-hand butler to the king, and his mother the same for the queen, Kiyoomi had taken his position by your side. He was the one put in charge of cleaning up your messes and mistakes, all while suffering through the spring as his allergies began to pick up with dust and pollen flying around. 

His diligence to his job sometimes pulled him out of focus, eyes and mind frozen on the task at hand until there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. It left him forgetting that, while he always had a job to do wherever he went, he was always in your presence.

The ball of crumpled paper never made contact with the skin on the back of his head. Instead, bouncing off his dark, cheek length, curls and hitting the floor beneath his feet. He blinked for a moment. When he turned his head around to find the source of the paper ball, he was immediately swept up like a relaxed dust bunny under a bed at the sight of your conniving smirk directed his way. 

Your hand flicked and brows raised in a pissy manner, gesturing to the white ball on the floor. 

You watched attentively as Kiyoomi stepped down from the ladder and picked up the balled paper. Your heart rate picked up as he stood straight, and you smiled. 

“Now, what I’m drawing here is the formal wear that you’ll be expected to wear—”

He tossed it into the trash.

You gasped.

“Yes, very exciting. Beautifully crafted.”

You spun around again, repeating the process, and tossing the paper back Kiyoomi’s way. You could hear him grumble before tossing your second note into the trash.

Again, and again, he never read the damn notes. You threw another one just as he was turning around. It crunched a bit as his fingers curled around it.

“Always introduce yourself to the host—”

He threw it. You ducked, and it hit the chalkboard, right where your old teacher’s hand was about to write.

“(Y/N), balls don’t actually have balls in them, not even paper ones. Please, pay attention.” 

Your shoulders hiked up as you took in a breath to protest. Only to be met with a light smack at the back of your head.

Kiyoomi sneezed into his mask as he worked on the rose bushes.

“We can go inside, I just wanted to get some sun for a bit, so if your allergies are picking up—”

“It’s fine, I got work to do anyway.”

You huffed, kicking your shoe along the surface of the grass as you hobbled over to the blooming cherry blossom tree. You jumped up to grab a hold of its lowest branch, swinging gently.

The calm wind felt nice washing over the layers of your clothes. You listened to the little petals rustle above your head as you watched the butler delicately pluck away stray leaves. The navy colour of his uniform stood out in the sunlight. He glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring briefly before you turned your head away.

“Hmm, want to go into town later?”

“You're not allowed outside of the palace grounds right now.”

“When have rules ever stopped me?”

“Evidently, less than they should.” He paused for a moment, letting his arms fall from clipping and turning your way. “Do you ever plan to get serious? Actually fit the role of a royal.”

You let go of the thick branch, falling onto your feet and hissing as the small scrapes in your palms. “Well ya, of course.” He watched your playful smirk drop, making his stomach sink with it. “But look at us Yoomi. Someone’s gotta try and have fun while we can. You’re always trying to take care of my messes.”

“If you stopped making messes we could have fun.”

You didn’t respond, causing Kiyoomi to look away from the view of the gardens. Head tilted down and sideways against the tree’s trunk, your eyes drooped, staring at the grass beneath your feet. “I just—”

“Your Highness!”

Your head turned, shooting up to find the maid that was carrying the weight of her skirt as she ran. 

“Your Highness, the King wishes to speak with you.”

Kiyoomi watched your lips purse, annoyed at being interrupted before your expression completely changed to a kind one. You looked his way, giving a slight nod as you pushed yourself off the tree and padded dirt off your garment. “I best be going then. Thank you, Lydia.”

Lydia panted, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Any idea what it may be about?” he asked.

Idle gossip, though looked down upon, typically came from truths and kept the staff informed on what to be mentally prepared for.

The maid sucked in a large helping of air. “Not too sure, but my guess would be a ball.”

“A ball?” A wave of nerves tickled the back of Kiyoomi’s neck. For what? He wasn’t sure.

“Well yes, it’s common to hold an event for the 19th birthday for a member of the royal family.” She paused, sucking in more air.

“Ah, that—”

“Got to find a suitable spouse, of course.”

The tingles on his neck fizzed out, sending a cold wave of discomfort through his body. He choked on his sentence, coughing harshly.

“Is the allergy acting up? Might want to put your mask back on.”

Through his fit of coughs, he brushed his hair back while pulling the mask over his nose. Between the sharp exhales, he managed to choke out a couple of words.

“Damn it.”

Dinner was quiet. On a large, elongated table, the three royals sat far apart. King (L/N), took his place at the head of the table, on a large seat with an ornate backrest with blood-red fabric and gold detailing. The queen, almost oblivious to the tension carried on eating at the opposite end of the table, on her own special chair.

Kiyoomi stood against the wall behind your small decorative chair, watching as you slowly picked at the food in front of you. An unsettling feeling made a home in his stomach. He sent side glances to his parents, who took position behind their respective royal. They looked concerned but not confused. They knew. His father bit his lip slightly when Kiyoomi made eye contact with him. 

Taking in a deep breath, he turned back to studying your hunched posture, watching your decorated fingers reach blindly for your glass. Likely some sort of tea.

“(Y/N).”

You jumped, your hand pulling back too quickly and effectively spilling your drink all over your fresh pair of dress pants. “Shit!”

“Language,” your mother laughed.

Kiyoomi rushed to your side, towel-cloth in hand. Taking a knee beside your chair, he began to pat against your soaked thigh with the towel, hoping to soak in as much of the spilled drink as possible. His focus wavered. Now closer, he could see your hands clench under the table. He frowned slightly.

Your closest hand reached for his under the table cloth and he moved to clean the floor next, pulling it onto your now dry knee. He looked up at you, hoping to get some sort of response to his silent question. 

You stared at his gloved hand in yours, watching how his long fingers completely enveloped your hand and covered the bulky rings you wore.

Kiyoomi was made to choke silently as you shifted to weave your fingers between his own, squeezing tightly. He was thankful to still be soaking up the liquid on the floor, worried that without his mask on that the adults in the room would take notice of the sudden heat in his cheeks.

“Sorry,” you knew he hated germs, but for the moment he couldn’t quite care. The warmth of your hand in his was enough to quell any germaphobic tendency. “But thanks.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, separating his lips to respond.

“(Y/N), we must speak of your birthday.”

Right, your birthday. The young Sakusa’s stomach dropped. Were you going to be put up for marriage? Buy yourself a spouse, or worse be bought as one? His heart rate picked up.

Shit, shit, shit. 

He wanted to say something to you, but it wasn’t his place. Standing to his feet, he brushed his thumb along the back of yours, ready to separate your hands. You reciprocated the movement but quickly held his hand tighter.

He froze, holding his position on the floor next to your chair. Setting the towel down for a moment he held your hand between his, then let go. Kiyoomi grabbed the towel, stood up, and began soaking up the tea from the tablecloth. 

“We, of course, will be holding a ball. And On top of celebrating your birthday, we hope that you’ll be able to find a partner among the guests.”

A jolt shot up Kiyoomi’s spine. Not just from the sudden confirmation of the rumours, but also the light pull on his pants as you took hold of the fabric behind his knee, pinching it desperately. He searched your face for an emotion other than desperation. Not saying a word, he straightened his knee against your fingers, permitting you to hold a little tighter.

Your mother spoke up,  “We wanted your input on the theme and such, it is your birthday,” she emphasized the word sending a poignant look towards your father, “after all.”

The palm of your hand pressed against his knee for a moment. Fingers pushing through the slick fabric to squeeze his skin gently. He finished soaking up the tea quickly, having to leave your side and face your parent’s questioning gazes alone. He stepped back, making your hand drop. You paused for a moment, taking in a slow breath.

Once back in his position against the wall, one of the working maids rushed over, swapping his damp cloth for a clean one, before running back into the kitchen. His parent’s concerned gazes continued.

“How about a masquerade? And maybe theme it like a night under the stars?” Your hands, now separated from your usual companion, ringed together anxiously. Your teeth felt sharp against the inside of your cheek. “But does it really have to be some sort of spousal search? Is me getting married that big of a deal right now? I’m barely 19 yet.”

“Your father and I started courting at 18, and Kiyoomi’s parents it was 20, isn't that right Ichika?”

Kiyoomi’s mother hummed, “Ya that’s about right.”

Not helping, mother.

The queen spoke up again, “are you sure you want a masquerade? How will you know what people look like?”

You paused for a moment, fiddling with your favourite silver ring out of the gaudy bunch that were given to you by your parents. The simple band spun around your finger. A gift from Ichika on your last birthday. 

“The anonymity will help me get to know their personality rather than just judge based on their appearance, no?”

The king hummed, “Not a bad idea, but if that’s the purpose, you better find a suitable partner among them.”

Your heart felt heavy. “Yes, of course.”

“Ooh!” your mother sat straight in her seat. Nearly bounding. “How about a three-day event?”

You looked horrified. You felt it too. “Three days? Mom, that’s—”

“Wonderful idea! That’ll be enough time for you to find a spouse. I’ll go write the letters.”

“Wait but-”

Mr. Sakusa followed him out the door with a surprised look.

“I’ll go figure out decorations! Ichika, your assistance please?”

“Of course.”

You were left standing in front of your chair, mouth open like a fish waiting for food. Your hands shook mid-air. “What just happened?” You turned to face your personal butler.

Kiyoomi looked just as frazzled, shrugging at you.

Kiyoomi switched the fitted sheets as you sat on the windowsill of your room. The moon was half full and letting off a dim blue light. You fiddled with the solid band on your finger while studying the stars.

Kiyoomi had finished fluffing the last pillow when you finally spoke up. “We never did get to go visit the town.” 

Standing straighter, he walked to your side and wiped the empty surface of the window sill before sitting down in front of you. “I suppose we didn’t.”

Keeping your head in the same position, you flicked your gaze over to the older man. The blue light made the highlights of his hair look purple. It sharpened his cheekbones and made his old butler’s uniform his regal. The two moles above his right brow pulled your attention back to his eyes.

“Will we be able to?” You looked up again, not seeing his head shift your way.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, forget my birthday ball. I want to be able to have fun, run around and be free. I want to spend more time with you.”

“You already spend all your time with me.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the moonlight or just his imagination, but he could see tears begin to build up in your eyes. You sniffed, meeting his eyes. “I want to keep it that way.”

You listened to the fabric of Kiyoomi’s pants slide against the surface of your windowsill. Watching as he reached to hold your hand, he sucked in a deep breath, chest expanding and pushing against the tight fabric of his vest.

“Forever, right?”

“Yes, forever.” His thumb ran over your rings, settling onto the flat band his mother gave you.

“Even if I get married?”

The cogs turned in his head, imagining up hundreds of scenarios at once, trying to paint the most ideal outcome. He breathed again, nearly choking on the dust that flew around your room. One second, and another. You waited desperately for his response.

“Especially if you get married.”

A knock broke out at the door, “Incoming!”

Kiyoomi strategically rose to his feet dropping your hand quickly despite the fleeting tug you gave his fingers. He heard you sniff again, and wipe your tears away, not that they’d be visible in the dark.

The queen and her best friend. “Ah Kiyoomi, you are here. Could you help Ichika with decorations and accessories?”

Kiyoomi nodded, quickly heading for the door to leave with his mother. 

“Accessories?” You moved to stand, only to be shushed down by your mother.

“For the staff, of course.” She sent a wink Ichika’s way. Before the maid closed the door. she gave a nod and smile.

“You’re really going in on the masquerade thing, huh?”

The two of you sat alone, bathed in moonlight.

“I think it’ll be a great opportunity.” She patted your shoulder. “Alright, you should sleep. I got work to do.”

“What kind of work.” You stood up with her, pacing to your bed as she went for the door.

“Oh, just something. Rest up!”

Tailors had woken you up, knocking loudly against your bedroom door. They barged in, pulled you out from out of your covers while you were in a groggy state and had you stand.

Your mother came in a bit later, a new fancy dress hanging off her shoulders.

You yawned. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, all the guests are arriving tomorrow and we need your clothes done.”

One of the tailors put the end of the measuring tape to your waist, pulling it down to your ankle and calling out a number to the one with a pen and clipboard in hand.

“Shouldn’t clothes be made ahead of time? Not the day before guests arrive.” You yawned again, looking around the busy room as you tried to find a missing body among them. “Here’s Yoomi?”

“Ah, Yoomi? He’s, uh, helping Ichika and Daiki with organizing everything. They’ve got a lot on their plates, you know. Speaking off, I should go check up on the progress.” 

You sighed as the head tailor lifted your arm up.

Later on, once you finally managed to escape fittings, you ran down to the main ballroom where most of the castle’s staff had been. The ornate chandelier had strings of sparkling lights meticulously streaming off it to tie to the walls. The typically red curtains had been swapped out with midnight blue ones, tied back to let the natural light in, and later give a view of the stars.

You found Ichika in the centre, clipboard in hand as she directed the positioning of tables around the back wall.

“Ichika!” You ran over, nearly tripping over unhung decorations. “Have you seen Yoomi? He wasn’t here when I woke up this morning.”

“Ah, Kiyoomi? I have him helping pick out plates and utensils as Daiki is organizing the menu.”

You gasped out a thank you, before sprinting towards the kitchens. You passed by various staff on the way there, doing your best to weave through them as you ran through the hall. A trip happened here or there, but you managed to get to the kitchens without a catastrophe occurring.

Cooks ran around the kitchen, various samples in hand.

“Yoomi!”

He stood at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up as he inspected the beautifully handcrafted plates in front of him. 

Despite the lack of breath, you ran again.

“Yoo—ACK!”

You liked tea, you did. Especially on a cold day, where you could sit in the library and read while Kiyoomi took a break and sat with you. A book with a wandering knight with the power of the moon, any book. Lemon, chamomile, all the soft flavours that were never too harsh for your throat.

You loved tea, just not on your body.

“Hot, hot, hot.”

The cook was quick to calmly apologize, brushing his dark silver bangs off his forehead as he handed you a towel to dry your chest with. It wasn’t his fault, not that he seemed all that worried.

“You clumsy fool.” The wavy-haired butler had come to your side before you even noticed. He took the towel out of your hand and began slowly dabbing at your collarbone, leaving you standing awkwardly with a racing heart (Likely from all the running). “It doesn’t burn does it?”

“Only as much as hot water. Just got shocked.”

“Good.” He pulled the towel back, examining the stain. “You should go change, that shirt should get washed.”

“But I ran all the way down here to spend time with you. I’ve been locked up in my room all day,” you whined pitifully, stomping your heel against the tiled floor.

He didn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at the shuffling feet of the nearest chook as they fed his father samples of the proposed meals. “It’s alright, we’ll have time to hang out later.”

Hands on your shoulders, he began walking you towards the kitchen doors. He held you facing forward when you tried to turn around.

“But the guests will be arriving—”

“Later.”

The door closed on your nose, leaving you in the silent hallway alone. You clicked your tongue, looking down at your feet and pressing your head against the door.

“Damn it.”

"Mom, why do I have to wear a mask? They already know it's us," You huffed, adjusting the stiff costume piece on your face.

"For aesthetic purposes. You're the one that wanted a masquerade remember? Now hush, the last family is coming in," she said as he lightly smacked your hands away from your face. "And keep it on."

"But—"

She interrupted. Making your father chuckle next to you.

“Ah, hello, hello. I see you have your masks on! Did the guards treat you nicely?” Your mother cheered, inviting the incoming guests with open arms.

The next royal family that walked through the door wore masks with warm colours, complimenting their blonde hair. You didn’t recognize them with the accessory covering their faces. Standing just a bit shorter than you, the daughter wore a salmon coloured dress to match her mask. Her heels seemed to throw her balance off. 

They were the last family to approach you after all the guests had arrived, and although it was a masquerade, it’s hard to not notice the most overdressed royals in the room. Your father, especially, as he boated a thick blood-red cape that dragged across the floor

You gave the princess a grin and offered her a hand as the four walked over to the food. 

She smiled broadly, maybe a bit nervous, before dragging you into the centre of the dancing pairs. Her short hair, braided on one side and pinned to her head, bounced slightly as you waltzed. 

You're not sure how long you had danced in total, having switched from one partner to the next with no break. You supposed it had to do with the fact that the ultimate goal of this event was to find you a partner. One other than for dancing.

After being whisked away from the blonde princess and into the arms of a flamboyant prince in teal, you were being passed around the guests like they were playing hot potato. Only the loser happened to be you as the balls of your feet began to ache. Now, with the pain becoming tiresome, you swayed limply in the arms of a dark brunette in a dark maroon suit with gold accents.

You looked over the prince’s shoulder, resting your chin on the soft velvet of his suit. He held you a bit tighter, successfully preventing you from falling or tripping on his toes. You watched the staff on hand as they moved gracefully among the guests, offering drinks and snacks away from the back tables. Kiyoomi wasn’t among them.

You sighed into your partner's neck.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was rather deep, harmonizing with the winding down music that the orchestra played. You stumbled onto his toe, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Oh, yes, sorry about that. Thank you for the dance, but I best get something to eat.”

He bowed. “Of course,” he said, and then went on his merry way.

Finally. Dancing with —for what you could only recognise as— strangers was tiring. And despite it being the majority of your job considering your position as a royal, you couldn’t help but want to limit your social circle to a chosen few. One, to be specific.

Your stomach rumbled as your eyes browsed over the staff. Sighing again at the lack of Kiyoomi in the room, you started walking towards the slowly disappearing food. Your gaze shifted. Despite the dark curtains being pulled open, it almost looked like they weren’t except for the fact that the stars were shining brightly in the sky. You continued to walk, not noticing the tail of one girl's skirt dragging across the floor.

“ACK—”

Something constricted around your wrist, holding your face a few feet above the floor.

“You’ve taken more than a few fumbles this evening. If you need a cane, I’d be honoured to offer my assistance.” The owner of the smooth voice pulled you to your feet, turning you to face him in the process. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”

His top eyelids hug over his iris’ slightly, making his already dark eyes seem darker. They reflected the ballroom’s lights like the stars outside. His mask, midnight blue like the curtains with light gold detailing around the rim and centre, looked like the night sky and covered all but his mouth and eyes. His dark hair was slicked back, looking neat and polished. The mask’s design carried out through his clothes, a three-piece suit with inner soft gold lining and detailing.

You let out a silent gasp at the moon and star cufflinks he wore.

“You were heading for the food right? Let me accompany you.” He offered you an elbow, letting you slip your arm through at your own accord.

His chivalry felt near fictional. With your eyes still zeroed in on his profile, your mind began to wander into the depths of stories you’ve read.

“You look like a prince.” The words seemed to slip out of you unconsciously.

“Aren’t all the guests here royals?” He smirked, giving a side-eye glance to all the other people in the room.

You laughed lightly, embarrassed by your own mistake. He grinned with you. “You’re right. I just, I don’t think anyone looks as fantastical as you do.”

“Fantastical?” He grabbed a small plate from the table, using the tongs to place various treats on it and handing the plate to you. He didn’t seem to think about which ones you’d like, not that he had to, they were all your favourite. He reached for his own as you took a bit out of a small pastry. “Have you been reading too many fantasy novels?” 

A knight? The memory of a dark cloaked saviour in the dead of night popped into your brain. You chuckled. “Possibly.” You faced the large crowd again, searching.

“Looking for something?” 

“Huh,” you blanked. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit tired. I’m never around so many people at once.”

Plate in hand, he stood straighter offering his arm again. “Would you like to step outside? I saw a nice place to sit in the gardens.” He saw your hesitant glance at the crowd. “They won’t even notice you’re gone, and if you’re worried about me, there are guards at every corner. I wouldn’t dare harm you, Your Highness.”

Though trying to weave through the crowd was difficult, the fresh cool air that rushed into your lungs once you made it outside was worth it. The prince guided you to a bench in the centre of the circular rose-bush, nodding politely at guards as you walked by. You laughed happily as the cherry blossoms went over your head.

You sat down on the bench, stretching your tired legs and back. Standing, and dancing, for hours on end did a number on you, him as well. That masked prince’s clothes blended nicely with the surroundings, looking like a piece of the night sky had fallen to keep you company.

He stretched, raising one arm above his head while the other continued to carry his plate, before taking a seat beside you.

“It’s a lovely garden,” he hummed, watching you take a bit from the plate of food in your hand.

You chewed quickly before swallowing, licking your lip to get rid of leftover crumbs. “It’s one of my favourite places in the castle, along with the library. I spend so much time here my friend has taken it upon himself to keep the rose bushing in top shape. It’s not even his job.”

“Your friend?” he prompted. The gentle tone of his voice told you that he wanted to listen.

A slow sigh rolled off your shoulders. “My butler. Haven’t had the chance to make many other friends than him. He's always by my side.”

“You seem to enjoy his company at least.”

You laughed. “I do. Can’t throw away my only friend, and he can’t escape me either; it’s his job.”

The prince let out a sharp laugh, a bit louder than you expected. The embarrassed look in his eye from making such a loud sound made you laugh along with him.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the bench’s back-rest and throwing his head back. “I have a friend like that.”

“Really?” You rested your arm against the back of the bench, holding your head up as you studied the prince’s mask and listened.

He hummed. “Growing up isolated in a castle isn’t fun, but having someone there for you makes it better. Even if it wasn’t their choice.”

“I guess all royals have some similar experiences huh.”

“I suppose, but we all have slightly different expectations and backgrounds, live in different cities and towns. Each is unique in their own way.”

“What's your town like?”

He turned his head your way, mouth open. His eyes flicked to look up at the cherry blossoms, before coming down to meet your eyes. You didn’t realize how close you had been sitting.

Your propped up elbow rested nearly behind his relaxed head, and his shoulder pressed into your arm. He maintained eye contact as he sat up, taking your plate in his hand and setting them both on the end of the bench. He blinked slowly.

“I— I don’t really know. Thinking about it now, it seems that I’ve only ever gone through but never to visit.” He laughed at himself.

Pinching your brow, you jumped to your feet. “Let’s go.” You held your hand out to the prince, beckoning him to his feet.

“Go where? Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes, tired of not having fun. I’ve been wanting to go into town with Yoomi for days but haven’t had the chance.”

He placed his hand in yours, allowing you to tuck him onto his feet. “Are you sure—”

“Your Highness.” Lydia stood and the opening of the rose bushes, hands held together. “The guests are heading to their rooms. Your parents are requesting your presence.” She gave the prince next to a confused look. “You best head inside.”

“Ah, wait, Lydia.” You stepped her way slightly. “Have you seen Kiyoomi today?”

Her eyes flickered, and her brow pinched together. “Sorry, I can’t say I have.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. “Ah, it’s alright. I’ll be in soon.” 

As the maid left, spun on your heel. A rose was presented to you and the hand holding it was attached to the night prince. The view of him in his dark suit surrounded by a giant bouquet of pink was an image that would be ingrained in your mind forever.

He spoke calmly, a joking undertone pushing through. “I hope I don’t have to vie for attention over this Kiyoomi fellow you keep speaking of?”

“Well, he’s definitely not going to like you picking the roses, that’s for sure.”

The prince laughed, coming up from his gentle bow to place the thornless rose in your hand. He smirked beneath the nose of his mask. “I'm trying to woo his friend here. I’m sure he won’t mind.” He then reached for your empty hand, placing it on his elbow, and grabbing the stacked plates. “Let’s head back in.”

You had been spending a lot of time on your windowsill as of late, staring at the moon as it slowly becomes whole. You sat and stared, arms around your knees, as you slumped against the glass. Waiting.

It was long past midnight when you finally decided to return to your bed for some rest. The door opened when you stepped onto your feet.

Your heart swelled.

“Where have you been?” You ran to the door, wide eyed, as you held the curly-haired butler by the shoulders. His uniform matched those of the rest of the staff, new and crisp with celestial accents. “I wanted to spend time with you, but you weren’t there.”

As he spoke, you wiped off a pink stain from his white collar. “Icing, I was working in the kitchen?”

“You can't cook.”

“But I can bake.”

“Right. I’m still mad at you though, I was alone!”

“Really?” He walked over to your clothes that you had hooked onto the wardrobe. He draped the fancy clothing over his arm before walking to the door again. “I heard from Lydia that you snuck off with a mysterious prince.” He smiled lightly, blinking as he met your eyes. “It’s late, get some rest.”

He spoke curtly, pulling the door.

Where was he going; tugging the door without a thought despite you desperately wanting him around. Your heart seized as your hand reached to try to catch the door before he left you in the cold room alone.

“But—”

The door shut.

Why your mother had chosen a lean fitted, sun orange garb for the second day of three, you weren’t sure. Already standing out amongst the other royals for being the host of the party, the vibrance of your clothes seemed near embarrassing. You couldn’t imagine being surrounded by so many people for another day, but it was too late to change plans.

You flicked the large handkerchief over your waiting for everyone to pile into the dining room. Staff had set up two extra tables for the number of guests, having you and your parents sit at the head of separate ones. You looked to the right and watched the king and queen speak happily with the guests sitting closest to them.

Each seat had a name card on them, guiding people to their assigned seats for the midday meal. You couldn’t read the names from your vantage point, but it wasn’t hard to tell that one was missing.

You looked over your shoulder, hoping to find Kiyoomi behind you, standing against the wall. You sighed at the empty space before waving one of the nearest butlers over. Guests continued to slowly find their chairs.

“Bellamy, is there a name tag missing here?”

The butler leaned down to hear your words over the crowd. He tilted his head, making the grey hairs on his head bounce slightly. “I was certain there was one earlier when we were setting the tables. Do you want me to look?”

“No, it’s alright, they’ll find their way here eventually.” He moved to stand straighter. “Oh, and Bellamy? Have you seen Kiyoomi at all today?”

The old man’s eyes widened and back straightened. “Ah, yes, he was helping lay out the cutlery earlier. I believe he and the other head’s are working in the kitchens. Do you want me to get him for you?”

You bit your lip, looking at the rings on your hand as you fiddled with the solid band. “It’s best not to interrupt him, he’s probably working hard. I’ll see him soon.”

“Not talking about me are you? Did I leave that good of an impression?” 

The night prince slid into the unlabeled seat, smiling kindly. He gave a nod to Bellamy. The tails of his coat flicked as he sat down. He wore all black with silver accents, fitting the midnight theme better than you did.

“I was asking about Kiyoomi,” you explained. “This is your seat?”

He grinned, showing off the pearly colour of his teeth in a sharp, thin line. “Trying to get a peek of my name were you, your Highness? That would defeat the purpose of a masquerade wouldn’t it?”

You shivered under his stare as he slid into the seat. “I’ll admit that not knowing your name is turning me into a cat, but I was more concerned about someone not finding their seat.”

“That curiosity will kill you.” You smirked at his anecdotal reply that finished off the little phrase as you reached for your glass of tea. “Besides, any seat next to yours is rightfully mine, so you don’t have to worry about me not finding it.”

You choked on the warm liquid as the plush chair next to you slid back. “Oh my, are you alright? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” It was the blonde princess from yesterday.

A hand held your chin, tilting your head over towards the masked prince. In his other hand held a handkerchief, dabbing the sides of your mouth and chin gently. He looked at the blonde. “Don’t worry princess, they’re just clumsy. Can’t take care of themselves.” His thumb rubbed your cheek before dropping both hands. 

Had Kiyoomi been around he would’ve done the job himself. Gentle brushes, making sure that you would be tidied up and presentable without irritating your skin. He would chuckle at your slip ups and laugh at you in a way that the other staff wouldn’t. Would’ve had be not been avoiding your presence like the plague.

Kiyoomi wasn’t here.

Your heart fluttered as you watched the prince's eyes glitter. Heat washed across your chest and rose to your cheeks. It nearly sent you into another coughing fit. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t, but the prince was.

“Oh thank goodness, I would’ve been killed for scaring a crowned royal to death.”

You finally stopped coughing as entrees were being placed in front of people. “I really don’t think—”

“It could happen! I’d be an outcast, a murderer to the nth degree!”

You laughed. “Princess, please. Just eat.”

As you reached for your fork, something landed on your knee underneath the table. You took a small bite of the prepped meal and lifted the table cloth as you listened to the other two royals talk.

“Have you ever visited the Bahamas, it’s quite lovely.”

The prince's closed hand rested on the orange fabric on your knee, thumb brushing gently. Giving you a side glance, he lifted his hand but kicked his foot out taking your ankle with it. 

Already flustered, you reached over to smack the back of your hand lightly against the prince’s shoulder. He gave you a kind smile in response.

“I can’t say I ever have. I don’t travel unless it’s work matters, and even then I’m typically held up in one building or another.”

Your leg used his ankle as a footrest. Furrowing your brow, you tried to take your leg back, only for the masked prince to place his other one on top of it. You were shackled to the man. You huffed slightly, leaning into the back of the chair as you tried to hide any darkness that had risen to your cheeks. “The most exploration I get is of the town. Like the prince said, even outside of our city, I’m typically restricted to where I can go. I always have Kiyoomi to keep me company though.”

The light on the prince's slicked-back hair glistened as he turned his shoulders more your way, mimicking a similar posture to that the pink princess (now in baby pink) took. “You speak very kindly of your butler. I don't think I’ve seen him around though. What’s he like?”

“Oh please tell.” The blonde smiled, light brown eyes shimmering.

“Huh, well he’s my closest friend of course. I don’t have many in the first place unless you consider the other royals we sometimes visit.” Hitoka and Wakatoshi came to mind suddenly, you haven’t seen either of them in years though. “Those connections aren’t as well built as I would like though. I’m not sure if they’d call me their friend.”

You could see the princess’ eyes darken underneath the cut out of her mask. “I’m sure they do, (Y/N).”

You forgot that the anonymity of the mask didn’t apply to you for a while. You gave her a genuine smile. “Thanks.” 

The hand was on your knee again, brushing it in a calm, soothing manner. You reached for the last bite off the plate, swallowing it down quickly. 

“Well anyways,” you continued, “Kiyoomi is calm, clean, very clean. He’s always by my side unless I don’t want him to be, which isn’t often. He takes care of me in a way my parents can’t since they have to work all the time. He used to read me stories from the library when I was young. I still use the same old chair.” 

You hummed happily and took a sip of your tea as the plates were exchanged for the next course. “I love him a lot.”

The meat looked lovely. You went in for a bite as the hand on your knee pressed into your skin a bit. “I better not have to fight for that affection,” the prince teased.

You only gave with a silent, non-committal, laugh.

After all the food had been eaten (staff taking the place of the full royals to help finish the untouched food) and none was left except for bones, The guests were free to roam and mingle around the castle grounds. Most took it as an opportunity to dance in the ballroom and network amongst the heads of states. Even with the masks, kings and queens could easily tell each other apart.

A hand held your arm back from joining your parents in talking to the blonde princess’ family. The kind smile the price gave you beneath his mask made your stomach flutter again. “You like the library right? Care to show me the best books?”

You tried to choke down an embarrassed yelp as his hand slid down to hold your own. “I’d love to.”

Taking one last second, you looked over your shoulder to the cleaning staff, hoping to find a wavy mop of black hair before you were stolen away.

How this prince managed to take up a vast majority of your time thus far, you didn’t know. Maybe it was the dark hooded eyes that seemed to give people a death stare when they approached, or possibly the lips that seemed stuck in a permanent downturned position.

He seemed to assess the situation of the crowd around him, then turn his attention your way with a small smile. Each expression was minute, letting his posture and words speak for him.

He grabbed a wet wipe from off the librarian’s counter, wiping his hands down as he scoured through the library’s titles. “So, is there anything you’ve been wanting to read?”

“Me? I did finish a book recently but haven’t chosen a new one yet. Anything you recommended?”

He hummed, tilting his head at the book spines, before turning around and speed walking toward the fiction section of the library. It didn’t take long before he wiped his hands again and pulled out a green-covered book from the shelves.

“‘Night Pirate’. Have you read it?”

Standing in the centre of the tall, open room, hands clasped together, you shook your head. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

Coming to your side, he placed his open hand between your shoulder blades, turning you in the direction of the old chairs. He sat you down on the large, plush red one, the one you had claimed since you were little, and took his place in the matching dark green one to your right. The one Kiyoomi had started using once you were too big to share a single seat.

He got comfortable quickly, kicking up one ankle to rest on the opposite thigh. “‘To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.’” He paused looking up from the first page. “Might as well get comfortable, the book is 500 pages long.”

You followed the suggestion, leaning your head back against the soft velvet backrest and studied the intricate details of his mask, and how his lips parted as he read each word. His hands looked large against the book, carrying it with one hand, no effort required. You noticed the small spots that decorated the back of his palm with a smile. He pinched the book’s read ribbon tucking it away as he continued. His voice, mellow and calm, reflected the atmosphere that the words in the book were trying to paint.

It was five, maybe six pages into the book before your eyes closed, and another three before you had fully dosed off.

You weren’t entirely sure of how you got to bed, but judging by the warm cup of tea and a new set of clothes for the last day, Kiyoomi had been there. You couldn’t let the warm feeling in your chest settle for long though, because within minutes the tea was gone, your outfit was on and you were rushing down to the banquet hall before the quests could beat you to it.

Today, the food was set up in the middle of the ballroom in a large circular table with a multi-layered cake in the centre of it all. The guests swarmed your and your parents as they waited for the knife in your hand to hit the bottom of the cake. Once it did, deafening cheers that made your shoulder’s scrunch, erupted throughout the castle.

Everyone got a slice, you even managed to get a piece for Ichika and Daiki, ensuring that they each got a bit of galaxy coloured icing and fondant stars. 

“Do you like the design? Kiyoomi thought of it, though Osamu did help bake it,” Ichika said.

You looked to the slowly disappearing desert, admiring what was left of the black, blue, purple, and pink layers that got lighter as they reached the top with small star-like details. 

“He knew you wouldn’t want anything too extraordinary. I better save him a piece of his hard work.”

You felt something tap your red-clothed shoulder. “Excuse me, you two, but I hope you don’t mind me stealing (Y/N) away for a bit do you?” You looked to the masked prince, who now wore a dark forest green suit with gold accents. The mask remained the same shape but had a chain hanging from the edge near his right eye down to the right point of the mask near his chin.

Butterflies were already fluttering in your stomach.

Ichika gave the prince a wide smile, elbowing her husband. “Of course, of course. We don’t mind.”

Twisting his feet to point your way, he offered his hooked elbow and waited for your silent permission to escort you away.

“What are you planning?”

“Hmm, not much, a small trip.” His eyes shifted your way as he kept his head angled forward toward the castle's nearest exit. “I heard that the town is having fireworks for your birthday tonight. You’ve been wanting to go, right?”

“Well, yes but— How did you know about that? I haven’t heard anything.”

The corners of his mouth flicked up. “The staff like to talk.”

So there you were, with the princely stranger in dark clothes at your favourite cafe in town, definitely sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs. The obnoxious laughing pouring out of you didn’t help keep eyes off, either.

“What do you mean you bleached the crown?!”

“It was a mistake! Luckily, it wasn’t the real one or else my father would’ve sent me to France to be beheaded,” he sighed, and then noticed your raised brow and slow bite into the puffed sugar cloud with a hard shell. It crackled under the pressure of your teeth. 

“We— well,” he stuttered, “What happened was, I was helping clean the crown case, and the crown gets swapped out with a duplicate so it can get polished. And I accidentally got bleach on the velvet portion.”

He shut his eyes as if replaying the memory, wincing at your laughter. “I knew you’d find that funny.”

“Of course I would, you seem so put together it’s hard to believe you’d make a mistake.”

“I hope that means I’ve made a good impression thus far.” He leaned forward, setting his crossed arms on the table and letting his elbows carry his weight.

You mimicked the movement, letting your chin rest in the palm of one of your hands. You wore a squinted smile. “Not like you would let me get much of an impression about anybody else.”

“Not my fault. No one else was trying hard enough.”

You laughed through your nose as you drank the last few drops of tea. The cup didn’t make a noise as it hit the table again. The waitress, who had been watching idly from behind the counter, rushed over to bring the check and collect the dishes. Her dark hair swished over her shoulder fluidly. You saw her every time you visited.

“Thank you.”

"The sun is going to set," the unnamed prince spoke as he set a bill on the table. "How about we walk through town and look at the shops before the fireworks start."

Your cheeks hurt a bit from smiling. "Sure."

He offered an open hand to you as you got to your feet. Wiping your hands on your legs first, you graciously took his open palm. Pulling you to his side, the prince led you to the cafe's exit waving at the workers as he did.

“Hmm, How about— Woah!”

You pulled his hand, dragging him towards the slowly moving crowd that grouped around the various shops. His hand shifted in yours, twisting so he could fiddle with the ring on your hand with his thumb.

“Your Highness, if you wanted to steal me away, you could've just asked. Of course, I’d have to tell my parents first—”

“That wouldn’t be stealing,” you snorted, dropping his hand. 

You stopped at an accessory store browsing over all the little pieces of jewelry that sat on display, glittering in what was left of the available sunlight.

You jumped as the light near your head flickered on. Hand on your stomach, you played it off by looking for the masked prince among the crowd. Two young boys giggled behind you, running off when you glared their way.

You eventually caught sight of the midnight prince bowing his head to a blonde man who had his hair brushed back and a cigarette balancing on his lip. He appeared to be the shop owner. Soon after he began walking your way, bare hands tucked into his suit pockets. He nudged your side. “Come on, the fireworks will begin soon.”

Slinging your elbow around his, you followed. “What do you do in your typical day anyway?”

He started walking towards the large fountain in the centre of the pavilion. “I typically help the staff where I can. Don’t have many responsibilities as of yet.”

You looked up to the gold chain on his mask, hypnotized by its swaying movement. “As of yet? How old ar—ACK!” The tip of your shoe slammed into a lifted brick, flinging you forward.

“Clumsy, clumsy. Watch where you step, or I'm gonna have a lot of cleaning to do.” 

Your trip luckily didn’t end with your head slamming into the edge of the fountain. Which made you breathe a sigh of relief (wouldn’t be the first time it happened). With his elbow still locked around yours, and hand securely tucked into his pocket, the prince had managed to catch your arms between his and his side before you dove into the concrete.

You huffed, taking your arm back and sitting on the fountain’s ledge. “So, how old are you anyway? I never asked.”

He sat next to you as the first —test— firework went off. “Hmm, 21.”

You hummed. “That makes sense, I would’ve been too young to go to your party. I’m glad that you didn’t find a partner I suppose.”

“My parents are rather lenient. I didn’t want to find someone immediately anyways.”

“I can’t say I did either.”

Two pops went off in the air, pulling your attention to the dark sky. The lights flickered, falling as they did before burning out. The burnt-out fireworks were quickly followed by a slew of others.

“I got you this. From the shop.” From his pocket, he pulled out a small box and flipped it open to present it to you. A muted gold band sat in the slit of the velvet cushion.

“Proposing already? I didn’t think you were so forward.”

Even with the ornate mask on his face, you could see him falter. Eyes darting around as he puffed out some hot air. “Think of it as an offer. Who knows, you might regret it later if you fall in headfirst.”

Your heart felt like it was tearing in two, competing on different teams. But when you met the prince’s hesitant eyes that darted back and forth between your own, it felt like the two sides were coming to an agreement. Your whole body scorched.

The feelings you had would always be there, but what could Kiyoomi do if he wasn't around to reciprocate them, and would your heart be able to take it?

You flushed, staring more intently into the prince’s dark eyes. “I think I've done enough falling as it is.”

Looking at your fingers, you paused, thinking, before pulling the ring out of the box and exchanging it for your beloved gift from Ichika. With no warning, you grabbed the prince’s bare hand and slipped the warm metal onto his ring finger. It stuck at the knuckle for a moment before sliding down to the base. 

You analyzed the hand that now wore your favourite ring. Holding it delicately, you slid your fingers over the few small dark specials that decorated the back of his hand.

No going back now.

“Well, at least it won’t fall off. Don’t lose it okay, that ring is dear to me.” You looked up to his face, watching as the bright fireworks brought out the green of his mask, and saturated his straight slicked-back black hair with shifting iridescence. 

“Does that make me dear to you, as well?”

The fireworks were loud, but your heart was louder. And all you could remember from those few fleeting seconds were the smell of clean clothes and mint toothpaste as your eyes stared into the bleak darkness of your eyelids and the feeling of his lips pressed oh so gently into yours.

Kiyoomi tirelessly worked on the final meal for the departing guests. His shoulders ached as he worked his hands into the bread dough, trying hard not to let any sweat fall off his nose. His curls bounced with each push. He grunted as he flipped the dough over, before yawning.

“Woah there, little Sakusa, what got you all worked up?”

The butler huffed, picking up the large pound of dough and tossing it into the oven. Once the oven started cooking, he made his way over to the sinks, desperately hoping to scrub away the remnants that stuck to his skin.

“Nothing, Bellamy, just trying to get all the bread ready before the guests wake up.”

Daiki entered the kitchen patting down the sides of his suit jacket. “Is there a loaf good to go? The family is awake.”

Kiyoomi cursed quietly, throwing on his signature white cloth gloves and grabbing three plates. Lifting his mask over his nose, he began cutting into one of the loaves.

His father’s brow furrowed as he watched his son rush to cut the bread. He went to collect the condiments from the fridge. “You okay there? You seem a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep until late last night.”

Daiki slathered a large clump of peanut butter on a slice of bread, prepping it for the king’s stomach. 

“Hmm, no sleep? I wonder why that is,” Ichika said in a reading manner, walking in with one of the finished loaves in her gloved hands.

Kiyoomi’s head drooped, hair falling in front of his eyes. His straight arms pressed into the counter, causing his shoulder blades to jut out. Having his parents giggle behind his back, quite obviously, made the pit of anxiety that had been growing in his stomach collapse into a ravine. 

Ichika coughed slightly, transferring away from teasing her son. She reached for fruits to add to the plates. “Bellamy, gather the staff won't you? We need to deliver breakfast to the bedrooms.” She grabbed the plate with jammed covered toast before wrapping her arm around Daiki’s. “The three of us will bring breakfast to the family. Okay?”

“Of course, Mrs. Sakusa. Right away. Lydia, Osamu!”

Kiyoomi tightened the gloves around his fingers, pulling them tighter and keeping them secure. He took a slow breath, trying not to yawn as he did so, before grabbing your plate.

Kiyoomi had woken you up with his eyes squinted in a soft smile. Though you couldn’t see, you could easily picture the smile itself behind the white mask he wore over his mouth. Camomile tea in one hand, and fresh toast in the other, you walked down to the foyer of the castle to meet your parents with Kiyoomi yawning into his mask by your side.

“Tired?”

His eyes squinted in a relaxed smile again. “Ya, but this morning everything will be done, and I can rest.”

You hummed, swallowing your last bite of bread before taking a sip of tea. You began walking down the large steps that took you into the castle’s main entrance. “Why don’t we go to the library to read after they’ve all gone? There’s a book that I recently started, I can read it to you from the beginning.”

“Hmm? Sounds nice. What is it about?”

“A pirate? If I'm being honest I fell asleep, so I don’t remember a whole lot,” you laughed.

Your parents stood by the large double doors, guards on either side as they finished off their tea and handed the dishes off to Daiki and Ichika. “(Y/N) hurry down. The guests will be leaving soon.”

Kiyoomi stood behind you as you shook hands with the leaving guests, desperately wanting to wipe your hands clean between each interaction. He held himself back though, not wanting his germaphobic tendencies or possessiveness take over.

The queen’s head turned your way. “So, did anyone catch your eye?”

The question went unanswered as the last family came your way. You recognized the short dark-brown hair of the tall prince from the first night. He silently took your hand in his, letting out a deep hum as his chin hit the back of your knuckles. You heard your parents thank the father, and seemingly grandmother for visiting before they headed for the door. Guards opened it for them.

Kiyoomi rushed in front of you, taking your hands in his gloved ones and wiping them clean. Maybe he’s let them take over a little. You didn’t seem to notice though, too fixated on the memory of the unnamed prince.

“Was that the last family?” you asked, brows furrowed. 

Your parents' eyes widened. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Kiyoomi’s fingers tightened on yours. Unconsciously, you squeezed back. “There was one. A prince. He had slicked black straight hair. Wore navy colours with metal accents. His mask covered everything but his eyes and mouth.”

Your father hummed before calling for Daiki’s attention. Having been talking quietly to his wife, Daiki and Ichika both shot straight up as the royals turned their way. You sidestepped towards Daiki, letting Kiyoomi join the circle.

“How many guests were on the list.” Your father’s tone was heavy.

“80, your Majesty,” Daiki replied.

“And how many chairs were there total?”

Ichika spoke up, “84.” Her eyes flicked to your mother’s for a moment.

Your father hummed again before calling the nearest guard, a strong looking white-haired man and his red uniform. “Gather the knights, there will be a search for the intruder. And he will be punished for disturbing the safety and peace of the castle.”

You opened your mouth to protest, heart beating painfully at the thought of the man being in danger.

“No!” It was a chorus. It seemed you weren’t the only one. Everyone’s heads turned on swivels at the other’s outbursts.

A puff of hot air blew out of your father’s nose. “What's wrong with all of you? Why not?”

You took the chance to speak before the others could. “I spent plenty of time alone with the, uh, prince. If he wanted to harm me he very well could have.”

“Also,” your mother continued. “Wouldn’t sending out the knights be a bit much? I know they don’t have a lot to do, but that seems overboard.”

Daiki sighed. “Your Majesty. You could ask the guards on watch if anyone has left the grounds since last night. They might still be in the castle.”

The king's posture seemed to slouch. “But what about the knights?” He blinked for a moment before standing straight again. He called for the guard. “Find out if anyone has left since last night. If everyone is accounted for, send the knights through the castle, if not, they go on an expedition.”

The guard only hummed and nodded, before walking off.

Your chest hurt, squeezing tightly around nothing. It felt like you were going to vomit. You lifted your now mostly ringless hand to your mouth in a fist.

“I'm going to write letters to the families, best find out if they’ve seen anything. Daiki?”

The head butler nodded. “Kiyoomi, care to join us? We might need some help.” Daiki gave his son a pointed look and an urgent beckoning wave.

Kiyoomi placed a gloved hand on your back, pushing heat through the fabric of your clothes. He spoke quietly into your ear, dragging down his mask with a hooked finger. “I’ll find you later. Alright? We can read in the library as you said.” 

You looked into his eyes, watching how his lids relaxed, and ten the small pair of moles above his brow. You lowered your clenched hand away from your mouth and nodded.

His hand fell from your spine before he was off, following the fathers up the grand staircase and to the king’s study. Your stomach tightened a bit.

“Is that a new ring?” Your mother slid over with Ichika at her side.

The maid gave a teasing laugh. “I sure hope you didn’t toss my gift away.”

“I wouldn’t say toss.” A cold sweat ran down your neck. “You both seem very put together, aren’t you a bit scared over all this?”

“Not at all, I’m sure everything will be sorted out quickly. But isn’t it fun? It’s like you're experiencing your own fairy tale instead of one in those books.” Your mother teased, taking your hand with the simple gold band and lifting it to her face. She paused. “I don’t recognize this one.” 

“Oh! Did you?” Ichika bounced like a child despite her age. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?”

“Did what? OH!”

Sometimes you forgot that they were best friends. 

“You exchanged rings?!” they both cheered, giving you large smiles.

Your stomach sank more, thinking of how not only did you lose the mysterious prince, but your favourite ring as well. The tightness in your chest continued, and despite it still being the morning; “I’m gonna go lie down.”

You heard your mom chuckle as you tripped on the top step.

You weren’t sure exactly what time it was or how long you had been in your room. But, after stomaching a couple of meals and sitting by the window with a blanket on your shoulders as the sun began to lower with a purple sky following, you could hazard a guess.

A knock vibrated your door. “I’m coming in.”

In a casual white shirt, instead of his authority screaming clothes, your father kept a neutral expression as he sat at the end of your bed. He weaved his fingers together and pushed his bottom lip up in a perturbed pout.

It was silent for a moment.

“So, did you finish the letters?”

“Hmm? Oh, ya. Ya, we did. Had to rewrite them all, but we finished them.”

You sat straighter. “Re-write? Why?”

He hummed shutting his eyes as if replaying a memory before looking up at the moon through the large window. He scratched his neck, mumbling quietly, “We found out who the prince was.”

“You did? Where—?” You nearly shot to your feet. Your heart pumped in your ears and hands began to clam up as they gripped the blanket. If they found out then he must be nearby.

“Calm down.” He clicked his tongue, moving his hand from the back of his neck to his forehead, rubbing away a dull headache. “No reason to get worked up about it right now. I still got to grill the guy.”

The growl that took over the end of his sentence was menacing, like a rabid wolf with a chunk of meat being teased in front of his snout. Your shoulders curled at the sound, imagining the fire that the prince would have to walk though under your fathers scrutiny.

“Please don’t.” If your father was that put out by the man’s identity, you couldn’t help but feel overly curious. Sometimes cats really do need to sedate their curiosity. 

Your father let out a deep chuckle before rising to his feet. He walked to your side and placed a large hand on your blanket-covered shoulder, patting it slightly. “There's no need to get worked up about it. Get some sleep; you’ve had a long few days.” 

As he walked to leave, you began to climb to your feet, following after. Something tickled the back of your brain at your fathers demeanor, but you hadn’t gotten any answers “Wait but—!”

“Get some rest, (Y/N).”  He pulled the door a bit before pausing, giving you a tired and rugged smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

The door closed behind him.

Despite everything that had happened, the three day party, your 19th birthday, a charming prince that had somehow swept you off your feet, all you wanted was to talk to your best friend. It felt like forever since you were last able to lean on his shoulder.

Maybe tomorrow. You looked at the gold band on your finger, heart swelling as your mind shifted. 

You’d search for your friend tomorrow.

Kiyoomi wasn’t there to wake you up the following morning. Only a cup of lemon tea sitting on a dust-free side table, and a clean poet shirt with black slacks, were left to prove his presence in your room at some point.

You yawned, stretching your arms as high as they could go before grabbing hold of the cup’s handle and taking a sip. The smell travelled up your nose.

You noticed that the sour feeling in your stomach had dissipated as you slipped the shirt on and started making your way down to the kitchens, cup in hand.

The wooden door to the cooking domain pushed open beneath your hand, suddenly revealing the same silver-headed chef you had run into a couple days earlier. He stepped backwards.

“Don’t worry, the cup is empty.”

“Not exactly what I was being cautious about, but good to know. Just didn’t want to be in your line of fire.”

You gasped, “Am I really that much of a hazard?”

He looked at the plated onigiri in his hands before holding one out for you. “More to yourself than to us. Want one?”

You huffed but took one anyway, biting into it immediately. Suddenly, out of your drowsy haze, you remembered your search. “Have you seen Yoomi around?”

The chef hummed, “This morning, but not since. Let me take your cup.”

You handed it over sadly, letting your shoulders droop at the news of your absent friend before stepping back into the hallway to begin your trek to the library.

Was he avoiding you? Running around and busying himself with work to keep himself away from your side? 

You paused in the large hallway with towering windows that overlooked the front garden. The sun was soft and warm, letting you easily look out the window without being blinded. Lydia stood out in the rose bushing with Bellamy, trimming the hedges and talking happily. The bench underneath the cherry blossoms held a pitcher of iced water and three glasses, both empty.

Did he know? He was with your father helping write the letters. Did he find out?

Your footsteps echoed through the empty wall as you continued your way down to the library.

You froze for a moment. Was he disappointed? Shaking your head, you quickened your pace.

The librarian just so happened to be stepping out as you got near, his light grey hair bouncing as he fiddled with the books in his hands. When he heard your heels hitting the floor he looked your way with a big smile. “Ah, your Highness, are you going in?”

“Sure am. May I ask where you’re heading?” You walked by him, through the doorway as he held it open for you.

“Oh, I'm joining Lydia and Bellamy in the garden.” He lifted the shoulder that was attached to the hand holding the small stack of books. “We plan to take a break and read in the sun.”

“Sounds lovely. Have fun.”

“You do too.” He winked before letting the door go and walking down the hall.

As the door closed behind you, your smile fell slightly and the sick feeling began to eat away at your stomach again.

From across the way, you could see the same green book from the second day of the event sitting on the coffee table in front of the two chairs. Its red ribbon poked out of the spine that became a bookmark as it hid between the pages.

Your steps echoed as you walked through the room, eyes trained on the novel that sat out of place.

Your fingers wrapped around the spine as you pushed your weight back to fall into your red seat. Kicking your legs up on one of the armrests, you twisted sideways to face the matching green chair and tilted your head to rest against the backrest. You opened the cover and began reading out loud to yourself from the first line.

“To the open waters of the great unknown, a pirate makes home among the fish and mermaids.”

You paused, stomach sinking as the sunlight lit up the view of the empty seat in front of you. 

The pages shook as you turned them, quivering lightly, sounding like a bird’s wings flapping. Even with the sun’s warmth pouring onto you through the skylight, it felt unbearably cold around you.

You eventually caught up to the marker, pausing as you held the ribbon between your thumb. Your mind wandered off the contents of the page in front of you to the mysterious man’s hand tucking it into the cover of the book.

Shutting your eyes for a moment, you shoved the ribbon back in place before flipping to the next page.

Only once the words stopped abruptly halfway through the page did you notice you had come to the end. Your mouth shut around the last syllable, swallowing the air as the story finished. Flipping the book in your hand to read the spine, you breathed slowly, readying yourself to rise to your feet and put the book away.

“You should read out loud more often, your voice is very soothing.”

The feeling that had dissipated in your stomach came back, shooting into your chest to make your heart race quicker. 

Frozen in place, you watched out of the corner of your eye as a freckled hand with your favourite ring adjourned on one finger came over your shoulder with a thornless rose balanced between two fingers.

“I’m sorry I haven't been around as of late.”

“Pri—” You swivelled in your seat, coming face to face with a familiar mask.

His arm now rested fully on your shoulder from the movement, giving you wide eyes beneath the crafted frame of green and gold. His hand lowered and arm moved, dropping the rose so it bounced off of your back and landed behind you, and came to rest on the back of your neck. The ring burned your skin. 

His breath was clean, warm against your cheeks. You bit your tongue as his other hand came to obstruct the view of his mask. Fingers gripping the top edge, he pulled the mask back, brushing over what you began to notice were loose wavy hairs. All the air in your lungs was stolen as you caught sight of two stacked moles through the moving eye socket of the mask.

You quickly raised your hand, brushing the pads of your fingers against the skin of his neck and weaving them through his shorter hairs. He breathed calmly as he pushed his forehead against yours. As he held the position you lifted your other hand to rest on the side of his neck, feeling his speeding pulse.

His moving hand dropped the mask, making it drop on the floor, and came to brush your side, gripping the flowy fabric of your poet's shirt between bare fingers.

Your stomach fluttered as his eyes closed and the tips of your noses touched. He hummed a happy sigh.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been rather absent the past few days.” You heard him kick the mask. “If you couldn’t tell already I was working two shifts at once.”

“Shut up. Yoomi.”

You pushed forward, lifting your knees onto the armrest and straightening up to get a higher vantage point, fingers pressing into his skin as you breathed against his lips. He held you tightly in return, pushing his chest into yours as his fingers danced along the centre line of your back. He pulled you closer, pushing your lips against his in a desperate manner.

The opposite side of the chair lifted, shooting your weight forward before falling back against the floor with a bang. You pulled away with a gasp, almost having fallen backwards if it weren’t for Kiyoomi’s arms gripping you tightly against his form.

“Clumsy aren’t you?” He smirked with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed through your nose, leaning toward his again. “I thought I told you to shut up.”

Guest appearances (not just by name) by: Yachi, Oikawa, Ushijima, Osamu, Ukai, Kiyoko, Aone, Sugawara

…..So I did say I’d write a long one. I was originally only going to be around 4k words…. Then I had an idea and kept writing. Normally I would write faster but this one took three weeks total. I’m proud of it though.

Also makes me want to do a mini series in this same universe… Maybe. Not sure how I'd have to set that up.

I’m sorry for making you edit so much Kiwi. - Bacon

(Don’t worry about it! It’s amazing! - Kiwi)

Posted: 28/02/2021

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

[loxcommon]

⚠️!Trigger Warning! Swearing, Mentions of Abuse⚠️

Five Days until the Party, Day 1, Part 2

Elizabeth and Timothy sat on a tiny bench in front of Michael's school, waiting for the bell to ring. Elizabeth was in a puffy blue jacket and a long pink skirt with equally blue heels, ones that William spent at least a hundred dollars on. Timothy was wearing an oversized black hoodie that he got from Michael a few years back. He had on jeans and brown boots that were covered in mud. The final bell of the day rang, and Timothy pushed his hands over his ears. Elizabeth pulled the younger boy closer to her as the teenagers ran out of the school. A few minutes passed by, and Elizabeth and Timothy grew warier each time a short boy that looked like Michael passed. Finally, Michael and three other boys walked out of the doors. They all towered over him. "Hey, Timmy! I see Mike!" Elizabeth said as she prodded the barely conscious boy. Timothy yawned and looked on absent-mindedly. Michael scanned the crowd until he found them. He nodded over to the tallest boy and said something around the lines of, "See ya' tomorrow, guys!" And ran over to the younger kids.

"Hey, Mikey!" Elizabeth yelled, drawing the attention of some of the kids. "Hey, guys! How are you both?" Michael asked while picking the half-asleep younger boy up. "We're good, Tim fell asleep in class, so you have to go to the principal's office." Elizabeth responded, mispronouncing the word' principal.' Michael chuckled and muttered a "Cool. What time?" Michael was used to going to his sibling's school for one reason or another. He went to a 'meet the teacher' event once, and most people thought he was their father. He didn't mind, though; he didn't want others to know about their 'situation.' "At 6:30, do you think we can get ice cream after that?" Elizabeth said as they got up and grabbed Michael's hand. Michael smiled and said a quick, "Okay." And clasped her hand as they walked through the school gate.

------

Michael sat the sleeping boy down on the neat, little bench sitting crooked on the equally small porch while he unlocked the door. Elizabeth wandered up onto the bench and settled down next to her brother, waiting for Michael to open the door. She pulled one of the yellow throw pillows off the bench and stared at it, remembering when it used to be a bright white. Michael gave a small glance towards the empty driveway. "Fuck." Michael mumbled under his breath. "What's wrong, Mikey?" Elizabeth asked, now leaning on Timothy's shoulder. Michael knew if he told the truth, she would start freaking out, so he just decided to lie. "Hey, nothing's wrong." "Then, why did you swear? You swear when things are wrong, right?" Elizabeth looked confused, but Michael changed the subject quickly. "Hey, remember when we played robbers when we were younger? With the broken window?" When Michael and Elizabeth were younger, Elizabeth found a broken window that leads to the basement. Where then you could get through a small trapdoor that went to the kitchen. Since it was the only way to actually get to the basement. Michael and Elizabeth were the only ones who knew about it; they had told their mother before she- No. Neither Michael nor Elizabeth like thinking about that. About her.

"Yeah, I remember! Why?" She asked, sounding happy that Michael remembered to. Elizabeth moved her head off of her brother's shoulder. She was excited to play with Michael again, even if it was just for the short time her father was at wherever he went when Henry was out of town. "I thought we could play it again while Tim's asleep, does that sound nice?" Elizabeth nodded eagerly; she got up and laid Timothy's head on the throw pillow. They didn't live in the best neighborhood, so Michael silently thanked God that the window was behind the house. The truth was William had changed the lock, for whatever reason, Michael knew he changed it. The lock was completely different, and Michael didn't have the key for it. William wanted him to get in trouble; he knew that they couldn't get in without picking the lock. Good thing William doesn't know about the window. Michael thought to himself.

Michael and Elizabeth went to the back of the house and found the opening. "This window is much smaller than I remember." Michael joked, which earned a laugh out of Elizabeth. "Do you want me to go? I'll do it!" She asked while smiling. "Yeah, that sounds like a good plan." Michael suddenly pulled his hood on and said in a scratchy voice, "Open the door for me so we can both get the booty!" Elizabeth laughed again while Michael opened the window. He pulled the hood off, so others don't think he was actually breaking in. And Elizabeth slipped in. Michael quickly walked to the door and sat down on the bench, making sure to lift Timothy's head off the pillow. He pulled his hood up and laid Timothy on his chest for a short nap.

------

Elizabeth pushed her body through the tiny gap, making sure to not rip any of her clothes or cut herself on the dangerous, small bits of glass that were still holding up after years of misuse. She was almost entirely in the house before a sharp, stinging pain tore a little cut in her right leg; she gasped and slowly brought her leg up and then broke the glass that cut her so it wouldn't hurt her anymore. Once Elizabeth was completely inside the basement, she dropped down at least seven feet to the floor, which only made her leg hurt even more. She pulled her skirt up to inspect the wound; it was around an inch long, and on her calf, it could be easily covered by a band-aid; she wouldn't want to worried Michael or her father. She got up and decided to push one of the tall shelves full of non-perishable food and other things for emergencies; so when the next person went down there, they wouldn't get hurt. It was way heavier than she thought it would be, so she had to use all her strength, which wasn't very much for a ten-year-old. Still, after around five minutes, she finally was able to move it. When she got done with that, she started walking through the small maze that was the basement; she couldn't even see the walls; it was just endless barriers of emergency stuff. Elizabeth walked for some more time, thinking about how much the cellar had changed since she was last down there; then she turned the final corner she found a box of medical supplies right next to the ladder that leads to the kitchen. Hell yes! Elizabeth thought before mentally attacking herself for swearing. She grabbed the box and opened it, finding the band-aids almost immediately; she put the box back where she found it when she was done. Elizabeth climbed up the ladder and pushed open the trap door with all her might until she heard the signature click of the door.

Elizabeth climbed up and onto the kitchen's grey tile floor; she looked up at the brown cabinets that were to high for anyone under six feet to reach. She always tried to get up there using the equally brown counters that complemented the floor, while the way to big flower print carpet under that was under an ugly lime green table did the exact opposite. Their mother was the one who chose the carpet, though an aunt on William's side that the children had never met picked out the table. Elizabeth never liked the table; she never liked the color green, she would even go out of her way to say she hates it. Elizabeth pushed herself up and moved towards the brown door; she always thought it looked small compared to the tall, dusty pink walls. She walked through the door and into the big, navy blue living room; two sunshine yellow couches contrasted nicely against the walls, bookcases lined the sides of the room, with books that haven't been touched for at least five years, covered in a thin line of dust. A walkway to the far right of the kitchen leads to the bedrooms that Elizabeth spent most of her time in; if it wasn't William's room, it was Timothy's, if not that, Michael's. She never liked her own room -even if it was one of the biggest bedrooms, second only to the master- it unsettled her; it wasn't just that her window was pointing towards a small forest that was dividing her house from their non-existent backyard, or the closet that she could've sworn had something living in it. No, it was the vent that connected to the big air duct, the one that anyone could get into; Elizabeth knew that someone went in there, she saw it, she saw her. Elizabeth was sure it was her mother, she had tried to tell her father, but he just brushed it off as a child's wild imagination, like Timothy's nightmares or Michael's 'emetophobia', whatever that meant.

Elizabeth went up to the front door and opened it to find Timothy and Michael resting against each other, Michael had his hand over Timothy's shoulder, and Timothy's head was on Michael's chest; they seemed comfortable. Elizabeth was happy that her brothers were getting along together and would hate to break it up, but Michael would get mad if she didn't wake them up to go inside since it was so cold. She nudged Michael's shoulder; he muttered some swears and looked up at Elizabeth. "Oh, hey, Eli. What happened? Is the door unlocked?" Michael said as he lifted his arm off of Timothy. "Yeah! And I found medical supplies in the basement! We can raid the house!" Elizabeth cheered; Michael smiled back at the girl, "Hell yeah! We get to steal everything now! William will regret this!" Elizabeth let out a chuckle.

"Regret what?" William asked, which stopped Elizabeth and Michael dead in their tracks. "Nothing, William." Michael started to talk back until William walked up to him; he reeked of cigarettes, and his breath smelled of booze. He's drunk. Again. Michael thought, now knowing to keep his siblings close to him today. William glanced over to the open door and scoffed, "And how'd ya' do that? Did ya' break-in." he said, more as a statement than a question; looking back to Michael -who was now holding the keys in a 'ready to stab' position-, William chuckled and whispered a sharp "Wouldn't want anything bad to happen to the kids, would ya?" Michael pulled Elizabeth behind him as William got closer and closer; until he was only a few inches away from Michael's face, "Remember the plan, or I'll bust ya' worst than last time. Got it?"

Michael gulped, but William just laughed and walked into the house. Michael watched him leave, and once he was sure that William was in his room, he woke Timothy up.

Timothy groaned and groggily asked, "Where are we?" Michael smiled and picked him up, "We're home, c'mon; let's get you to bed." Michael said, checking the time on his watch. It read 5:19. "What about the principal? Don't we need to go?" Timothy asked while yawning. "Nah, we have around an hour until we need to leave; you can sleep; I'll wake you up on time, don't worry." Michael responded as he and Elizabeth walked inside. Timothy gave a small nod while rubbing his eyes, "Okay." Michael made a beeline to the smaller boy's bedroom, not even daring to look over to William's room. Elizabeth sat down on the yellow couch while Michael put Timothy to sleep. She decided to check on her leg. Elizabeth gasped; the cut was bleeding hard, the blood was even slipping through the band-aid, which was now soaked. Elizabeth knew that she would have to tell Michael about it; he was the best person to tell -Timothy would probably just cry and tell William, and William would yell at her until she told him where she got the cut.

------

Michael pushed his dark brown hair out of his face; he had finally got Timothy to sleep, which wasn't as much of a task as it was in the past; Michael had noticed Timothy had been getting less and less sleep in the last few weeks; he was worried. He had just walked out of the younger boy's when he checked the time; 5:32 it read. Shit, I left Eli alone! What if William found her!? Michael thought before racing to the living room, there he saw Elizabeth, bleeding profusely from her leg; he ran over to her, Michael got down on his knees. "Eli! Are you okay?! Did William do this!? What happened!? Where is he?" Michael bombarded her with questions while Elizabeth tried to calm him down. "No, Mike. I'm okay, it's just a cut; I got it on the window, I'm fine." She said quickly, making sure that he hears each protest. "I just need a bandage; daddy did nothing. He would never hurt us!" Michael looked up at her and gave a relieved sigh, glad that William had never done anything to her. "Okay, that's good, but tell me about any injuries you get next time. I'm worried about you. Why didn't you tell me?" Michael responded, peeling the band-aid off her leg. "Okay, I will; I was just scared that you would get mad at me." Elizabeth said in a small voice; Michael just looked up at her with a sad face, "I'll never be mad at you, just tell me if you get hurt next time; now let's go get you a bandage, okay? There should be some in the kitchen." Elizabeth only nodded in response.

#fnaf #five nights at freddys #fnaf afton #fnaf cc #fnaf michael #fnaf michael afton #fnaf cc afton #fnaf elizabeth #fnaf elizabeth afton #fnaf william afton #fnaf willaim #Dreameater AU

[swan--writes]

The Deetz went on vacation, the Maitlands are taking care of something in the Neatherworld and reader has to babysit Beetlejuice

I have no idea if this is what you wanted, but this is what my brain cranked out. Really hope you enjoy!

Words: ~2,160

“C’mon kid, ya can’t do this to me! What’ll I do without you? I’ve never been alone with Y/N before!”

“Beetlejuice, come on. I have to leave.” Lydia’s words were drowned out by a pathetic wail from the demon clinging to her suitcase. You watched from where you stood beside Charles’s car. Lydia was attempting to drag her suitcase down the front steps of the Deetz-Maitland house.

Beetlejuice had spent the previous twenty-four hours trying to stop the Deetzes from leaving him. The family had hidden their vacation plans from him for as long as they could, using code words, deleting internet histories, delaying packing for as long as possible. But Delia had let slip on Thursday night that the family was going away for Lydia’s February vacation. Beetlejuice did not take the news of their imminent departure well.

Rather than deal with a bored, hyperactive demon for the week, the Maitlands had opted to spend some time in the Netherworld. Miss Argentina was missing some paperwork for them anyway. Charles had explained all of this to you the day before the Deetzes were to leave. You had been tutoring Lydia for a few months, and had hardly batted an eye the first time you met the demon. Once it became clear that Beetlejuice had no intention of leaving the house while everyone was gone, Charles knew you were just the person to ask for a very special favor.

“Thank you for watching him. I know this isn’t what we hired you for.” Without waiting for a reply, Charles scooped up Lydia’s large black suitcase and tossed it into the trunk of the family car, shaking off the demon as he did. Beetlejuice fell in a heap on the dirt drive. If it added any stains to his jacket, you couldn’t tell. “You know what to do if he gets to be too much?” Charles was already rounding to the driver’s side.

“Yes, I have all of Lydia’s instructions memorized,” you said.

“And you know about–”

“All of the plants, the stray cats, and the cleaning instructions.”

“What about–”

“The trick stair, third from the bottom.” You smiled down at Delia. She had told you this from over Charles’s shoulder the day before, practically yelling into the phone over the sounds of the raging demon just outside their bedroom. “Don’t worry, the house will be fine. Just go and have fun in London.” To your left, Lydia was helping Beetlejuice pick himself up from the ground. She dusted off his shoulders. Lydia rolled her eyes when Beetlejuice presented her his cheek and, rather than give him the kiss he was after, she pushed his face away, wiping the slime from his skin on his jacket as she went. Beetlejuice feigned insult. Lydia ignored him and climbed into the car.

“Bye, Y/N.”

“See you in eight days, Lydia.”

“Thank you again for doing this, Y/N.” Charles was halfway in the car when he thanked you. You knew why he was in a hurry – you yourself were watching Beetlejuice warily from the corner of your eye.

“It’s not a problem, Mr. Deetz.”

Beetlejuice watched the Deetzes drive away. You watched Beetlejuice. He waved enthusiastically, calling after them that London really wasn’t so great, and that he didn’t need them, and that it was only a matter of time before the London Eye went on a rampage, and you got the sense he was warming up to some very descriptive language before he took a step too far from the house.

Before your eyes, Beetlejuice’s front foot contacted an invisible barrier. “Hey, whoa. Whoa-no! Whoa!” Green sparks shot up from the ground and he was swept into the air, swirling and spinning and shrieking his way back into the house. The front door slammed shut behind him.

This might be a problem, Mr. Deetz.

You smiled in amusement before walking up the front steps and through the front door.

The first three days were quiet. Far too quiet. Beetlejuice floated through the halls at about your eye level, groaning, his hair a dull green. As long as he could still move, you decided not to worry. You refused to leave the house just in case. On day four, however, you realized you were out of snacks. You closed the cupboard and all but snuck upstairs, skipping the third step as you went. You got dressed in the guest room, where you had been sleeping, and washed your face quietly. When you went back downstairs, Beetlejuice was floating from the kitchen and into the living room. You stepped in front of him to stop him.

“Beej.” He came to a halt before you.

“Oh, you’re still here,” he said solemnly. You gave him a look, but ignored the remark. You had spent the last three days cleaning up the messes that Beetlejuice somehow managed to leave behind; water on the floor of the bathroom he didn’t need to use, dishes from the dubious meals he didn’t need to eat, the dirt he seemed to trail behind him.

“I have to run to the store,” you explained carefully. “I will be back in thirty minutes. Don’t do anything weird, don’t set anything on fire, don’t leave any messes that I can’t fix within the week.” Beetlejuice’s feet dropped to the floor.

“C’mon, you know me babes. I’d never give you anything you couldn’t handle.” A mischievous glint sparkled in his eye.

You shook your head. “I’ll be back.”

Needless to say, your heart was racing the entire time you were gone.

When you returned to the house, you only managed one step up to the front door before thinking better of it. Looking around, up to the roof, behind you, and through every window, you didn’t see Beetlejuice anywhere. As subtly as possible, you crept around the house to the back door and entered the house as quietly as possible. The back door brought you into the laundry room, and once you had tiptoed out of it, what you saw only confirmed your suspicions.

The front door was covered in green webbing. One strand of webbing led to what looked like a black flame thrower, off to the side. Would Beetlejuice really set you on fire? You didn’t think so, but regardless, you didn’t want to find out what that contraption did.

When you turned to your left, you were met with Beetlejuice’s face hovering upside-down, mere inches from your own. His feet were lost in the ceiling, and his filthy jacket was hanging over his head. He was grinning.

You gasped, but recovered quickly. “Nice try, Beej, but I’ve been seeing ghosts since I was like, three. You don’t get to me.”

Rather than reply, Beetlejuice leaned forward. Before you could stop him, the demon pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Smart breather,” he growled before the ceiling sucked him up and out of sight.

“What the hell?” you cried after him. You made a disgusted noise and wiped what seemed to be ectoplasm off your face with your coat sleeve. Then, hearing sizzling, you rushed to get out of the thick coat and threw it to the floor. Maybe you should use the flame thrower-looking contraption on it.

You opted not to leave the house again after that. It only got worse. There was the swirling vortex in the guest room closet that you had to leap back to avoid. There was the slimy…thing among the cleaning supplies that you had to chase all over the house and subdue with a bucket before dragging it outside. Even on day six, when you had a movie night and Beetlejuice was sitting right at your feet eating popcorn, he somehow made all the condiments in the fridge fight a battle to the death with the cutlery. The cutlery won. Finally, day seven came. It was uneventful – a dead rat here, a bloody knife there. You wondered if Beetlejuice was starting to settle down.

Even at the time, the thought seemed naïve, but you let it go.

In the middle of the night, you were awoken by all the screens in the house lighting to static and the sound of chanting. Butts and brains. Sorrow and pain! Nooses and snakes, bottomless lakes, corpses with weights…

“Beetlejuice!” You had no idea where he was, so you just yelled into the darkness of your room, barely illuminated by the moonlight. “Cut it out, I’m trying to sleep!” But the chanting continued. Grumbling, you stepped out of bed. In retrospect, you should have known better.

As soon as your foot made contact with the cold floor, something that felt an awful lot like a tentacle wrapped around your ankle, latching on and pulling hard. As you fell to the floor, you let out a high-pitched shriek. Reaching out blindly, your hand found the thick hardcover you had been reading before you went to sleep. Though you managed to grab it, you couldn’t break your fall and your elbow smashed into the floor. The tentacle started to drag you under the bed. You turned and started whacking at it with the book. It took a few tries for you to connect, but finally you felt the grip on your ankle loosen. Scrambling away, you pulled your legs out from under your bed, ran across the room, and hit the light switch. When you whirled around again, wide-eyed, you saw him.

“Beetlejuice,” you wheezed, trying to catch your breath.

Beetlejuice emerged, limping from under your bed. “Jeez, babes, what did you hit me with? The Necronomicon?”

“Beetlejuice,” you growled. You threw the book aside and stalked up to the demon. Your voice was low. “I get that you are bored. I get that you miss everyone. But what do you mean to accomplish by torturing me?”

“Aw, I was just havin’ some fun, baby. It’s no harm–”

You kept the same deadly tone, but now your voice was rising. “Are you kidding? I have barely gotten any sleep this week, I have bruises everywhere, the house is a mess, and I can’t even walk down the hall without being assaulted by a dead guy.” You jabbed an accusing finger at his chest. “That sounds harmful to me!”

Now Beetlejuice was staring at you. Some of the humor was wearing away from his expression. “Y/N…”

You shook your head, then sighed through your nose and turned away. “Whatever. Whatever!” you repeated, throwing your hands up. You climbed back into bed gingerly, the small injuries of the past week all choosing that moment to remind you of where they were. “Just go do whatever it is you do when you’re not screwing with me. I’ll be gone soon anyway, everyone will be back in the morning.”

When you looked up at Beetlejuice again, he almost seemed not to know what to do with himself. Faintly, you noticed that his hair had turned purple. Without speaking, he nodded and walked to the door, head downturned all the while. When he got there, he hesitated. Slowly, Beetlejuice reached down and picked up your book. He brought it back over to the nightstand and, ignoring how you tensed up more and more the closer he drew, he set it down. Then he walked back to the door and left, shutting it softly behind him.

The next morning, you came downstairs fully dressed and expecting to have to battle some new eldritch creature. You had your book at the ready. But when you walked into the living room, it was spotless. All the webbing on the front door was gone, the scuff marks from where you had dragged the thing through the house were erased. Every dent in the furniture, every chipped spot on the walls, every ketchup stain was gone, as though nothing had ever happened. You wandered into the kitchen and found your ectoplasm-free winter coat draped over the back of a chair – the one you always sat in when you came to tutor Lydia. When you returned to the living room, Beetlejuice was sitting on the stairs. He watched you with a sheepish look on his pale face.

You walked up to him and ruffled his hair. It changed from purple to green under your hand. “Thank you,” you said. He gave you a sharp-toothed grin.

At that moment, the front door opened and Lydia Deetz tumbled through. In the time it took you to blink, Beetlejuice had lifted her off her feet and was, according to her muffled complaints, suffocating her. Charles and Delia walked in after the teenager and set their luggage down. Delia walked over to Lydia and Beetlejuice to try to intervene. To your right, Barbara and Adam were bouncing down the stairs and announcing that they were home. Charles leaned on the door and looked down at you.

“So, how was he?”

You gave Charles a weathered smile. “Oh, he was easy,” you said.

Buy Me a Coffee?

#beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice bway #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice #fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #lydia deetz #charles deetz #delia deetz #the deetzes #barbara maitland #adam maitland #the maitlands #angst #softness #mischief #request

[zeckarin-blaise]

Poisoned

Here is my (tardy) contribution to lovermrjokerr challenge!!

It’s a story I wrote a while ago about Crowley being poisoned and Aziraphale coming to the rescue. I hope you’ll like it!!

Aziraphale sighed, carefully settling his book on his knee, a gloved finger marking his page, and picked up the phone. Only one being in the entire universe would have the nerve to call at four in the morning.

“Hello, dear.”

An enthusiastic voice answered him.

“Annnnnngell !!! Mlost, angel… dunno wh… whot place I am…” A deep inhaling sound echoed in the receiver, followed by an enthusiastic yell “Come pick me up ! Drinks at the bookshh… bookz… at the thingy with books inside !”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Crowley, are you drunk ?”

“Noooo… notatall ! M’not drunk ! Only drink… drunk… drank ? Only had two glassses ! Or... you know, five… Let’s drink more !”

“For the love of…” Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose, summoning all the patience he could muster, which wasn’t a lot when he just got interrupted in the middle of a delightful novel.

“I’m coming, don’t move.” His tone was clipped, but he just couldn’t be sorry about it. The undue hour, the book he had to abandon so unceremoniously, and for what ? A demon so sloshed he didn’t even know where he was.

A demon who just got wasted without him.

He huffed, took his coat, quickly searched for Crowley’s demonic energy, and disappeared.

He just had the time to notice his surroundings (an awfully disgusting alley) when something shoved him hard and he landed painfully on a bunch of dumpsters. Aziraphale hated to be touched, but the hand crushing his forearm didn’t make him want to jerk away, so it could only be Crowley’s.

“Don’t move” said the demon’s voice in a hush. “They’re here.”

The angel swallowed the complaint he was about to (loudly) deliver about his coat being wasted. Crowley was very tense, crouched next to him like he was about to bolt, fangs bared and eyes luminous. He looked like a tiger about to defend his territory. That was certainly a beautiful sight, but not a welcome one.

“Who ? Who are they, Crowley ?”

He scanned the alley with his angelic spirit. Crowley, madly gathering strength next to him, humans a little farther, dancing and drinking… nothing else.

“I can’t sense anything. What is it ?”

“Hellhounds, angel. Big ones.”

The angel scrambled desperately to his feet, an ice cold feeling running along his spine. They had to RUN.

“Crowley, quick, we have to take cover ! Come ! What are you doing ?”

He tried to pull his friend, grabbing his shoulder, but the demon seemed hypnotised.

“Too late. They’ve got me. Go, angel !”

He was shaking his left leg manically, pain written all over his face. Aziraphale let go of his shoulder and leapt, ready to smite anything he could get his hands on...

He landed on dust and mud, Crowley’s foot hitting him hard on the ribs as he tried to get up. He sat on his knees, watching his friend crawl backwards in terror, looking straight at… nothing.

Aziraphale shook his hand in front of the demon.

“Crowley ?

“They’ll kill me ! They’ll destroy me !”

His friend was obviously not even aware of his presence any more. He’d just talk to him seconds ago ! The demon cowered against a wall and started to whimper.

Aziraphale knew he should have been afraid. He should have, seeing the one being he cared the most about (and the only one to care for him in return, with one exception) in such a state. But he just couldn’t feel fear.

He felt anger. He felt wrath. He felt rage. And he would find whoever made Crowley look that wretched and he would…

But later. He slowly approached the keening figure and crouched in front of it.

“Crowley” he murmured, so softly a human wouldn’t have heard a thing. “Crowley, it’s me. It’s Aziraphale. Can you hear me ?”

He laid his hand on the demon’s knee. Crowley’s breath hitched.

“Angel ?”

“Yes, I’m here, Crowley.”

“They’re here, they came for me ! They’ll take me back, angel !”

“They will do no such thing, dear. I will not let them.” And he said that with all the assurance his Angelic Voice could force upon a demonic mind. Crowley blinked. He had lost his glasses some minutes ago and his pupils were so dilated his eyes were almost black.

“You’ll stop them ?”

“I will.”

“You promess?”

“Of course I promise, Crowley. I will not let anyone take you anywhere.”

Slowly, Aziraphale started to reach to his friend’s mind, laying his hand on the back of his neck to make him feel his presence. It was really difficult, erasing fear from a demon’s mind. It would be very easy to destroy some of the demon himself without noticing. A little like trying to destroy a sudden day to day happy feeling from an angel’s mind and erasing some of his inherent hopefulness in the process, crippling him forever. It was almost impossible to make out one from the other.

Aziraphale didn’t hesitate one second, though. He knew his demon’s mind like any of his beloved books, and he would always be able to tell the difference betwixt his core, the essence of his being, and… anything else, really.

He carefully peeled the terror away, tugging inch by inch, his grace slowly working a delicate but strong miracle. Crowley’s heartbeat was calming down against his hand, and the demon’s forehead came resting against the angel’s shoulder. Crowley would hate to be seen in such a fragile state. Aziraphale greeted his teeth. Somebody was going to pay for this. He expanded his wings, folded them around them both, and made they appeared in the back room of the bookshop.

For several minutes, he just stayed there, head spinning a little, holding on to Crowley like an anchor. He ended up slapping himself mentaly and got up to lay his friend on the couch with some difficulty.

He was bone tired. But he had something else to do before being able to rest. He gently took Crowley’s head between his hands and assured that his sleep will be deep and free of any nightmare for some hours.

Time to go.

Following Crowley’s path was not very difficult. The demon was flashy in every possible way, and his ethereal trace was easy to track back. It led him in front of a nightclub. Of course.

The barman recognised the description instantly.

“Lanky, red haired, sunglasses ? Yeah, he was there 'till the fight started.”

The angel sighed.

“Big fight ? Half of the bar against the other because of something stupid someone said, but nobody actually remembers who said it ?”

“No ! It wasn’t stupid, it was football !”

He sighed again. Lord, give me strength.

“Alright. Did you see him discuss with anyone before that… totally accidental and unpredictable brawl ?”

“Nah. Just stayed there, had a drink and smirked a lot.”

“One drink only ?” That couldn't be right. There must have been something else.

“Yeah. A beer. Oh, and the shot.”

“Somebody SHOOT him ?” Cried Aziraphale, devastated. He didn’t noticed ! What if it was a mortal wound ? Crowley couldn’t discorporate now, it was too dangerous !

The barman laughed.

“You had a few yourself, eh ? A shot ! Like, the drink. I made a few for regulars, offered him one.”

Oh. Really. A drink with a killing name. How human.

“What is that exactly ? Are there drugs in that ?”

“Hey, man ! No ! Don’t say things like this here ! T’was just a little thing I invented. Really popular here ya know ! Wanna try ?”

Well. One drink wouldn’t hurt. And he had a dreadful night, after all. He noded. Liquid courage would help pursuing his enquiries.

“Thank you, that would be nice.”

The bartender started mixing funny looking liquids from several bottles. It was quite agreable to watch.

“That’s a lovely green. What is it ?”

“Cactus. That’s real good.”

“Is that salt ? In a drink ?”

“Yep, gives it a little kick. That’s the secret ingredient, y’a know.”

“What about the yellow one ?”

“Sage alcohol. Not good alone, but a few drops in the cactus syrup just...”

The bartender suddenly stopped talking. The entire nightclub felt silent under an ominous pressure coming from... everywhere.

“You mixed salt. With sage. And gave it to him.”

Everyone suddenly felt like going home really quick, and soon there were just an angel and a bartender in an empty building.

“What… what happened ?” the young man blinked furiously, feeling like something was choking him. He gasped, starting to panic without a reason.

A hand grabbed him hard by the collar.

Aziraphale’s eyes were cold as ice as he gathered divine power in his fist. Much more than needed to eradicate an insignificant human existence.

He opened his mouth, trembling with rage.

“You, Josh Kendal, will forget that bloody recipe and never remember it for the rest of you life !”

Then he let him go. He just couldn’t smite the poor boy. He never intended to hurt. He just offered a drink to a lonely man in sunglasses.

He straightened his jacket, feeling quite put out. There was no one to punish, and that was unfair after all that stress. He walked with a dissatisfied air towards the door. Then stopped and turned.

“Oh. And you will go home and propose to Ashley. Really, it’s been seven years and you love each other, stop hesitating, you are ridiculous !”

There was a snap. Josh blinked. He was alone. He felt like he should have remembered something, but couldn’t put his finger on it.

Were they closed already ? Everything was neat and tidy. Much more so than most closing times, to be honest.

Well… no point in staying. Ashley would be thrilled to have him home so early.

#lovermrjokerr8kchallenge #good omens #lovermrjokerr

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E3; Chapter  Three, The Pollywog - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Dustin adopts a strange new pet, and Eleven grows increasingly impatient. A well-meaning Bob urges Will to stand up to his fears while Y/n’s powers grow stronger, bringing to light many questions about her past.

A/n: Another long chapter ahead, featuring a callback to book 1!

||3rd Person POV||

El laid still and unmoving on her bed, where she had been since her fight with Hopper. He had left hours ago and she had been left alone with her thoughts once more.

She gazed at her reflection in the TV set that was still in her room from the other day. She sat up, thinking. She wasn't in the mood to watch TV, again. But maybe she could look for Mike again?

Her eyes glazed over the bed frame and they spotted the blindfold, and she quickly tied it over her eyes. It wasn't until then that she realized it wasn't 3:15, he would still be in school.

El sighed, taking off the blindfold in defeat. Hopper's words from earlier popped into her head.

"You're gonna see him. Soon. And not just in that head of yours. You're gonna see him in real life."

So El decided would. She got up, grabbing one of the warmest pieces of clothing she could find. She ended up putting on an old flannel that Hopper had washed and given to her.

With timid steps, she crept out of her room and slowly towards the front door. She knew she wanted to this, she had been dreaming about doing this for months, but suddenly it all became very real to her.

She faced the many locks on the front door. They were there for her protection, of course, not for keeping her in. She recalled the day she had been brought to live at the cabin.

[FLASHBACK]

Hopper swung the old door open, and before stepping inside, began kicking the doorframe with each foot, shaking off all the snow. He stepped inside and discarded his jacket, while Eleven, repeated his actions by kicking the snow off her shoes.

She began looking around at the dusty and cluttered cabin. She could see the beams of light streaming in from the dust that littered the air.

"My granddad used to live here, long time ago." Hopper shut the front door, preventing any more cold air getting in, and discarded his hat. "I mainly just use it for storage now,"

El listened as she walked slowly through the cabin, trying to take it all in.

There were boxes everywhere, and cloth-covered all the windows so it made the cabin quite dark. There were cobwebs everywhere.

Hopper walked across the room and picked up one of the old boxes, and moved it. "Lot of history here,"

Sighing, he put his hands on his hips and shrugged.

"So, uh... what do you think?" He asked. "It's a work-in-progress. You know, it's, uh... it takes a little imagination, but uh... once we fix it up, it's gonna be nice. Real nice."

There was a small pause.

"This is your new home," he confirmed.

Hopper smiled kindly at Eleven and she looked at him, a new sense of hope blossoming in her chest.

"Home," she answered.

+++

Hopper quickly rifled through the box of old records he had stumbled upon until he finally found one that caught his eye and painted a grin on his face.

It was Jim Croce's "You Don't Mess Around With Jim"

He pulled it from the selection and showed it to Eleven, who had found a place to sit.

"All right, this," he pulled the record from its sleeve and put it on the record player. "this is music,"

Eleven looked at him skeptically, not knowing what to expect. Hopper put the needle on the record and the rhythmic sound of bass and drums began to play, Hopper snapped his fingers in tune with the music.

Eleven watched in stunned silence as the usually grumpy man began to bounce around with a large toothy grin.

"Uptown got its hustlers The Bowery got its bums"

Eleven's brows furrowed softly as she watched the man continued to bounce. His face was scrunched up now and he began to sway his body, something that confused Eleven even more.

"42nd Street got Big Jim Walker"

"All right,"

Hopper suddenly clapped his hands together and spoke, seemingly returning to normal.

"Let's get to work,"

"He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun Yeah, he's big and dumb As a man can come"

Eleven ripped the old cloth off the small bed, unintentionally whipping a thick cloud of dust in her face. She was sent into a coughing fit.

"But he's stronger than a country hoss"

Eleven was trying to sweep while Hopper cleared out the boxes. Having never used a broom before, she was attempting to sweep by pushing the broom forward, and in turn, wasn't making much progress.

"But he's stronger than a country hoss"

Hopper ripped the old and tattered pieces of cloth off one of the windows, soft morning light spilled into the room.

"And when the bad folks All get together at night"

Hopper glanced over in Eleven's direction and noticed her attempts at sweeping. He gently pulled her aside and asked for the broom.

"You know they all call big Jim 'boss' Just because"

Hopper pulled the broom back in swift motions, showing Eleven through demonstration. She watched carefully.

"And they say You don't tug on Superman's cape"

Hopper was knelt down on by the front door, as he screwed in various locks to the front door as an added precaution.

"You don't spit into the wind"

Eleven had now grabbed the broom from Hopper's hands, getting the idea. She began sweeping, just as he had and Hopper returned to the boxes.

"You don't pull the mask Off that old Lone Ranger"

El plopped down on the bed she previously been cleaning, bouncing up and down as tested the mattress. She looked to the tiny red lamp they had found and plugged in and began to feel more at home already.

"And you don't mess around with Jim"

Hopper had set up the old CB radio he had found, and was teaching Eleven morse code. This was how he would contact her from outside the cabin, and she would always have a guide to look at for reference.

"Well, outta South Alabama Come a country boy He said I'm lookin' for a man named Jim"

Hopper was now stocking the kitchen with groceries and kitchen supplies. Eleven had found an old jigsaw puzzle, and she happily got to work. It reminded her of Y/n, who had left Eleven some of her puzzles to play with while her and the boys were at school.

"I am a pool-shootin' boy My name is Willie McCoy"

Hopper cast a glance over his shoulder and saw how invested she was in the puzzle, and how much more relaxed she had become since they had arrived and he felt himself relax as well. He smiled to himself as he pulled the box of Eggos from the grocery bag and put them away in the kitchen.

"But down home they call me Slim"

Eleven repeated the sequence that Hopper had beeped in the CB radio, and he smiled at her. She smiled in return, knowing she had successfully translated the sequence.

"Yeah, I'm lookin' for The king of 42nd Street"

Eleven looked up from her puzzle, to see Hopper carrying in what she recognized to be a TV set and she watched hopefully as he set up.

"He drivin' a drop top Cadillac Last week, he took all my money And it may sound funny"

At night, Hopper had gathered some old mousetraps and made several adjustments to them.

"But I came to get my money back And everybody say, Jack, don't you know"

He knew he needed to take precautions to intruders or any possible threats. He needed an alarm system.

"You don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind"

He attached bullet shells to each trap. Blowing away the piles of sawdust as he worked under the lamplight at the kitchen table.

"You don't pull the mask Off that old Lone Ranger"

He wound up the spool of wire around another nail in one of the many trees surrounding the cabin.

"And you don't mess around with Slim"

Eleven trailed curiously behind him as he carried the unwinding spool with him. Finally, he reached the tree with the mousetrap and softly took a seat on the ground, Eleven knelt down beside him.

Eleven was in charge of holding the wire cutters and he gestured for them, grabbing them and cutting the wire. She watched as he grabbed the end and rigged it into the mousetrap as he talked.

"Now, this is called a tripwire. It's like an alarm. You, uh, set it up like this. And then, anybody gets close, it's gonna make a loud noise like, uh, gunfire."

"Bang!" He said, and Eleven jumped back softly, causing him to chuckle.

He runs a hand over his face and he looked at her, growing serious.

"Those bad men aren't gonna find ya. All right? Not way the hell out here. We'll take some precautions. There's gonna be a couple ground rules."

[END OF FLASHBACK]

El recalled Hopper going over the ground rules with her. She could hear him still in her head. But she didn't care. She needed to see Mike.

She walked in front of the draped windows.

"Rule number one: always keep the curtains drawn."

El ripped the drapes aside, and pulled on the blinds, sending them straight up, sunlight pooled into the cabin.

"Rule number two: only open the door if you hear my secret knock."

Every lock on the door came undone with a series of clicks and El opened the door.

"And rule number three: don't ever go out alone, especially not in the daylight."

Her heart pounding, El stepped outside, into the fresh morning sun, and relished in the crisp autumn breeze. She quickly scanned the area, when her eyes found nothing but open space and an empty forest she knew it was safe.

She heard Hopper's voice once more in her head, and she cast one last glance at the cabin in hesitation.

"That's it. Three rules. I call 'em the, Don't Be Stupid Rules. Cause we're not stupid. Right?"

As El got further and further away, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest, increasing with every step. She stopped suddenly. Not in fear, nor had she changed her mind. But the tripwire. It was right where she remembered it. She glared at it defiantly.

"Not stupid."

She stepped over the tripwire and marched on.

||Reader's POV||

Dustin's trap swung open and we all leaned in to get a better look. My eyes bulged when I caught a glimpse at the slimy creature writhing around inside.

"His name is d'Artagnan." Dustin cooed, beaming at the gross slimeball.

I watched carefully as he took d'Artagnan from the trap and picked him up, still smiling warmly at him.

"Cute, right?"

"Uhh..." I trail off.

Dustin just rolls his eyes at me, and I hear Will give a weak chuckle.

"d'Artagnan?" Mike asks, ignoring our bickering.

"Dart for short."

"And he was in your trash?" Max asked, clarifying.

"Foraging for food."

"Awesome," I mumble sarcastically, less than enthusiastic at the thought that thing was crawling around outside my house.

"You wanna hold him?" He asked hopefully at Max.

She quickly shook her head several times. "No, no"

"He doesn't bite," Dustin insisted.

"I don't want to--" Before she could finish, Dustin had thrust Dart into her hands, giving her no choice but to hold him and she cringed.

"Oh, God, he's slimy!" She panicked and handed him to the closest person who happened to be Lucas.

He recoiled in disgust when Dart jumped into his hands.

"Ugh, he's like a living booger!" He was then passed to Will who gagged.

"Ugh, oh, God" I saw the look in his eyes, he was panicking and he turned to me, the closest person to him.

Oh no.

"No, I don't think that's such a goo-" Dart was writhing around in my hands and my face scrunches up in disgust.

Lucas and Max were right, he was slimy and he did feel like a living booger and my stomach twisted in knots. I felt like I could hurl.

I tensed up, and suddenly Dart let out a horrible screech that hurt my ears and it startles me, making me yelp and jump back in fear dropping Dart.

There was a scatter of worried responses.

Mike was able to catch Dart, and he is the only one out of us who is able to tolerate him. He picks him up to examine him and Dustin lightly scolds me and then reluctantly asks me if I'm okay.

"I'm fine," I grumbled.

"What is he?" Mike asks.

"My question exactly," Dustin replied.

He got out some books from his back and plopped them on the table.

"At first, I thought he was some type of pollywog," he began.

"Pollywog?" Max wondered.

"It's another word for tadpole." He clarified. "A tadpole is the larval stage of a toad."

"I know what a tadpole is," she deadpanned, and I chuckled slightly.

We shared a slight smirk.

"All right, then you know that most tadpoles are aquatic, right?"

He opened up on of the books to a bookmarked page, I glanced at it and I made out the words 'Frog Life Cycle' from upside down.

"Well, Dart, he isn't. He doesn't need water."

"Yeah, but aren't there nonaquatic pollywogs?" Lucas asked.

"Terrestrial pollywogs? Yep. Two to be exact."

He opened up another bookmarked page from a different book.

"Indrana semipalmata" he flipped to another page. "And the Adenomera andreae. One's from India, one's from South America. So how did one end up in our trash?" He concluded.

"Maybe some scientists brought it here, and it escaped?" Max wondered.

"Yeah, and no offense Dustin, but we don't know anything about him. And you just found him, how do we know he's completely safe?"

Before anyone can answer my question, Mike speaks up, his attention on Dart who Dustin let roam around inside the barrier of the coils from his trap.

"Do you guys see that?"

We all lean in to get a closer look. Mike was right, on either side, just above the base of his tail, something began... shifting.

'Okay, ew'

"It almost looks like something is moving inside of it," I said.

Mike adjusted the lamp so it was hovering over Dart. And once again, he screeched, exactly like he had before, startling all of us. I start to panic when he crawls over the barrier of coils and jumps off the desk. Dustin quickly catches him.

"Whoa. It's okay. It's okay. I gotcha little guy. I know you don't like that. It's okay" I stared at my brother in shock and confusion.

Lucas and I shared an uncomfortable glance.

"And there's another thing," Dustin said, perking up. "Reptiles, they're cold-blooded. Ectothermic, right? They love heat, the sun. Dart hates it. It hurts him."

My brow had quirked when I heard this.

'Heat. Of course.'

It happened again. It must have. When I held Dart I must have burned him or something by accident and that's why he reacted.

'Shit, I really need to learn how to control that.'

I tried ridding my brain of the thought and leaned in to get a better look at Dart as my brother spoke.

"So, if he's not a pollywog or a reptile..." I urged.

"Then I've discovered a new species."

I looked around as I took in the information. However, I noticed that Will had an odd look in his eye. I was about to ask him with the bell rang, startling us all. The six of us grab our stuff and file put into the hallway.

"We gotta show him to Mr. Clarke," Lucas suggests, and I nod my head.

"No, what if he steals my discovery?"

"He's not gonna steal your discovery," Mike states.

"Yeah, I really don't think he would," I add.

"You know. I'm thinking about calling it Dustonius Pollywogus."

I laugh. "I'm sorry, the what now?"

"Dustonius Pollywogus. What do you think?" He turns, asking Max.

She laughs and shakes her head. "I think you're an idiot."

"You know, when I become rich and famous for this one day, don't come crawling back saying 'Oh, my God, Dustin, I'm so sorry for being mean to you back in 8th grade. Oh, my God'."

I laugh. "Yeah, I don't think you have to worry about that."

||3rd person POV||

Joyce was more than happy to be surprised by her boyfriend Bob at work. He had shown up to work to surprise her and the two were currently enjoying a pleasant lunch on a bench outside.

"Last night was fun."

"Mmm-hmm." Joyce agreed with a warm smile on her face.

She hadn't felt this happy in years. Bob always knew how to make her happy.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped anything," Bob spoke, referring to his previous suggestion of moving.

Joyce was shocked to hear this. "No! No, you didn't." She assured.

He weakly smiled. "Okay. I mean... I... I like you so much. Not just you, everything that comes with you. Your family, your boys."

Joyce felt as if her heart would burst. She smiled at the man as he continued.

"And I hope it's not wishful thinking, but... I kinda feel like I'm breaking through with them. Not so much Jonathan. He's a tough cookie to crack, but..."

She smiled and nodded along. "Yeah,"

"But with Will, I don't know, I feel like we're connecting."

She grinned at the man. "He likes you, too."

Bob smiled hopefully at this. "Yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm. I can tell."

Bob smiled to himself and reached for his Dr. Pepper. He popped open the drink and it fizzled. His mind quickly wandered to the video he had found that morning and he suddenly grew nervous. Bob knew he wasn't in trouble of course, but he hated making her upset. But he knew she needed to know.

"Oh, there was... something else I was gonna mention, but... and it's not a big deal at all, but...I just noticed this morning that my JVC was a little dinged up."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Your what?"

"The video camera."

Joyce seemed taken aback. She felt bad that his camera was shaken up but she knew that didn't sound like something the boys would lie about. Not her boys.

"Oh,"

Bob nodded his head. "Yeah. It still works fine and everything. I just...I went back and watched the tape... there were some older kids picking on Will."

Joyce set down her lunch immediately, and her expression hardened. "What?"

Bob carried on with a wince. "They scared him."

"Who were they? Were they the Zimmerman brothers again?"

"Um, I don't know. They were wearing masks or sort of makeup and... Maybe. They were the right age."

Joyce looked away and rage-filled her system. "I'll kill them. I swear to God, I will... I will kill them." She scathed.

Bob looked at her with adoration and pride. He shook his head slightly. "That's what I love about you. You punch back."

"And, I know this does not make any of that or what happened okay, but if it's any consolation, that friend of his, Y/N right?"

She nodded, unsure of where he was going.

"Well, she cursed them out something awful. I think she was ready to actually punch them." Bob let out a weak chuckle as he spoke.

Joyce felt a sense of pride. "Good. They have it coming to them."

She shook her head, still fuming from the knowledge.

Bob chuckled. "I was never really one to put up a fight. I struggled a lot like Will when I was a kid. With bullies. It's ones like us, that don't punch back, that people really take advantage of, you know? Really, rub your nose in it. Just a little bit more."

Joyce fell silent as she listened to Bob. She couldn't recall him being this passionate about something and she was listening, captivated.

"That's why, that's why it makes it all the more special. People like me, and Will. We are fortunate enough to find people in our lives that punch back. Like you, and Y/N. Will and I, we are some of the luckiest fellas on earth, cause we are fortunate enough to have people like you and Y/N around, and Will has you both. And me?"

Joyce smiled, and she felt all the anger melting away as Bob continued.

"Look at me now! I get to date Joyce Byers! Ha!"

A laugh escaped her lips and she smiled, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips.

And the two enjoyed the rest of their lunch together in peace.

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa@miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely

DM me if you want to be added!

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things rewrite #cosmic season 2 #will byers x reader #will byers x y/n #y/n henderson #will byers #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #el #eleven #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #you #noah schnapp #finn wolfhard #gaten matarazzo #milly bobby brown #sadie sink #caleb mclaughlin #the pollywog pt. 3 #chapter three the pollywog

[headoverhiddles]

Chasing Rabbits (Elias Grodin x Reader) [Fluff]

Synopsis: Unwanted flirtation and the stress of working the front causes stars to align, and you meet one gentle soldier in a million.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: PLEASE be careful reading this-- this fic has sexual harassment, assault intent, and just generally guys being misogynistic creeps. Except for Elias. He’s sweet boi :3 Eeeee I love him so much. 

Tagging: @this-is-mysuperwholockd-design @thevideonasty 

There'll always be one.

Every nurse has one, that's what they told you. Nurses always fall in love with soldiers. Plus, it makes for something to write home about. It would be nice, of course. You just didn't see how walking into this hell with your head in the clouds would help.

Patricia Arden, your fellow nurse and the only other nurse to accompany you to the front lines in the mobile M*A*S*H unit, hangs by your side as you sling your pack higher onto your shoulder. She's from a small town in Mississippi-- joined the war as a nurse to find a boyfriend, which isn't the smartest place to look, but hey, you're not about to judge.

The dust kicks up from the chopper blades, and you can already feel the humidity, as well as the bugs feasting on your skin.

"Look at all these men in uniform," she grins, “So groovy.”

"Yeah. You'll be seeing a lot of that, I think," you reply. She makes a face at you.

"I'd love to see what's under that one's shirt."

"Tish, the most you'll be seeing of any of these men are the fingers you're going to have to stitch back on them."

"Why do you have to be like that?" she pouts. You look away. If you didn't maintain your cynicism, the guys would treat you two like delicate little girls. That's not who you are, nor who you want to be.

 After your introductions to your head medics and the breakdown of the platoon you'll be working with, you congregate again.

"That Sergeant Barnes..." Tish whispers to you, "He's cute."

"He scares me," you say.

"It's the scars, isn't it?" she tuts. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to judge a book by its cover?" she mutters, "He could be the nicest man on Earth." You take another look over at Barnes, and shiver under his scowl.

"You can keep him, and his scars. He doesn't look like he'd cuddle anything but an AK 47."

"What about that one?" She points to a smoking man with curly auburn hair. Taller than Barnes, not as buff but reasonably muscular. Freckled, has a mustache.

"Mm," you consider, "Not the worst... but not my type."

From across the barracks, some of the men get a good look at you.

Chris Taylor's mouth hangs open, slack jawed as he adjusts his helmet. "Are those the new mobile nurses?"

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Elias grins, and a playful slap on the back sends Chris on his way. But then he makes the mistake of looking over himself. You catch his eyes, and smile at him. He smiles back, giving a dopey little wave, and you giggle with Tish as you're lead away. Elias watches you walk off, running a hand through his mop of golden hair in awe. When he turns, he's met with Chris' smirk.

"You were saying, sir?"

"Get going."

After setting up in your quarters, you get the idea to go for a walk to see where you’ll be living for the next couple months, until your two woman unit is on the move again. Unbuttoning your jacket for a little relief, you tie your hair back in a ponytail, and step out.

About half-way to the mess tent, you're stopped by a tall body in your way. You look up from the chest you’ve bumped into. 

"You a newbie?"

It’s the redhead from earlier blocking your sun. He's got eyes running up and down your body, and it makes you want to button your jacket back up.

"You could say that."

"Very nice, very nice," he says, continuing to admire you, "Red O'Neill. What's your name, baby?"

"(y/n)."

"Mind if I join you?"

The last thing you want is this motormouth accompanying you. "I was enjoying the quiet, but thanks."

"You know, I hate to cut right to the chase, but you're not making it easy for me, honey." He takes another step to walk with you. "Us guys out here get pretty lonely."

"Why?" you snark, "You have the pleasure of each other's company."

"Nah-nah-nah babe, you don't get it. Not like that! I for one miss feelin' a woman. Like really feelin' her. You must miss feelin' a man... huh?"

"Look... I might not be the right person to ask," you try to back out, "My friend Tish--"

"Your friend don't look like you do," he says, and you finally manage to shake him, changing direction.

"It was nice to meet you, Sergeant O'Neill."

As you're walking past him, you focus in on a group of men talking strategy. One looks over, and does a double take when he sees you. It's the cute one from earlier. He goes to give another wave, but someone in the group nudges him. His face changes, and he's back to business.

You stare after him, unable to stop yourself from dreaming about the handsome soldier. Sgt. O'Neill sees your gaze, and he looks between you two anxiously and with no small amount of jealousy.

The meeting breaks, and the man walks over, blushing a little. Your eyes fall to his open chest, where his dog tags are hanging against sculpted, lean muscle. 

"Hi." He sets his hands on his hips, squinting in the sun. "I, uh... see you around a lot."

"Yeah, I'm just trying to get my bearings. Once I know the layout I'll stop wandering."

"Wandering is good for the soul," he says, "Never stop wandering." He blushes deeper. "Sorry. Geez. I sound like a damn croan, and I'm not even baked. I'm Elias."

"Nice to meet you, Elias," you smile, shaking his hand firmly, "I'm (y/n). What's your rank?" 

"Sergeant. But you don't gotta call me that."

"According to army regulations I do," you giggle, and he falls a little in love. Realizing he can't just stand and stare at you, that he has work to do, he straightens up.

"I hope to see you around, (y/n)."

You watch him walk off with a confident gait, and admire his arms and physique. He's pretty tall, with lithe muscles and a wiry frame. You try your hardest not to fixate on his body in your mind as you keep going... but that's getting harder by the minute.

 A week goes by, and you start to really see how hard the job is. Back at the static M*A*S*H unit you had shadowed in, you knew when wounded were coming from the choppers. Here at the front, the Viet Kong could strike against any of the boys-- even you-- at any moment.  

After a particularly tough day filled with casualties, you enter the mess to find a group of enlisted men playing cards.

"You're out!" O'Neill yells obnoxiously, "Full house, motherfuckers!" You sigh. Maybe if you turned around and just--

"Newbie! Babe! Over here!" he calls. You pretend not to hear, so he gets up, and physically walks you over. Barnes sees clearly how uncomfortable you look in O'Neill's arms, but he looks down and ignores it, indifferent. "(y/n)," Red says, "Meet the big boys."

You want to tell him to shove off. You want to tell him just where he can stick that cigarette that's always dangling out of his mouth. But you're a nurse, and you're scared what could happen to you.

"Hello," you say. A kid named Junior sizes you up.

"Thank you for your service, ma'am," a young guy you think is named Bunny grins, "You offer any other kinds of service?" O'Neill laughs.

"Heh, that's what I've been trying to find out! Wouldn't we like to know, hey Bobarooni?"

Barnes glances up briefly. "That's enough." Red immediately shuts up, and sits back down, smile dropping.

"So, uh... you gonna play or not, honey?"

You shake your head, managing a smile for appearances. "I need some rest. Plus, I really shouldn't be here with all of you, especially playing cards with enlisted officers."

"Least one other person in this tent's got some goddamn sense," Barnes mutters, and you take that opportunity to head out. Thinking of hazel eyes and a wide grin, you wonder where Elias is.

Over the course of the month, you have trouble on and off with O'Neill. You see Elias occasionally, but he's busy leading his platoon, making decisions and generally, as O'Neill really wasn't, doing his duty. You did see him around one day while you were prepping to head over to the OR.

"Sergeant," you nod, trying not to stare at his shiny biceps. He must have been training his men, cause he looks dirty, sweaty, and everything you'd love to see on top of you.

"It's Elias," he says, blushing, (he never seemed to be able to hold a straight face around you) "I never did like to be called by rank. Even by my men."

You walk up to him. "Okay. How's the day, Elias?"

"Shit. But seeing you is already making it better." He ducks his head. "You have a nice smile."

That smile shows through. "Thanks."

He grins at you, and you drop something from your belt as you latch it up. He leans down at the same time as you, and your fingertips brush. He looks into your eyes, then down at your lips...

He stands back up, passing you what you dropped. It's a charm, a little silver peace sign.

"Where's the rest of the bracelet, flower child?" he jokes, and you smile.

"The rest of my charms are back home. This one felt appropriate to take with me."

"You know, I'm something of a hippie myself," he begins, "Out in the..." He's about to go on before he sees O'Neill marching around, torturing the new kids with a fellow soldier. He sighs, thinking of the rumors involving you and the other man. "Anyway. Nice charm. See ya around."

"Yeah," you nod, watching him go. Your thumb slides around the smooth surface of the charm.

That afternoon, your heart nearly stops when you see Elias being carried into the nursing tent, a little bloody and delirious.

"Out of the way," you mutter, and push through to him. "What happened?"

"River water got into his drink pack, same river a great big pig decided to die in. ‘Lias got sick, started hallucinating, got torn all to hell in the brush when he tripped."

"It's just a scratch," Elias gives you that stupid, infectious grin, “Although I’ve had better hallucinations than these ones.” 

It is just scratch... but that didn't stop the nightmares of losing him that night.

 "You keep smiling," Tish says as you both wash blood off your hands the week after. "Who is it?"

You look down. "Nobody."

"It's gotta be somebody." She smirks. "Sergeant O'Neill, right?"

You frown. "What makes you say him?"

"It's not just me. Everybody's saying it," she whispers, "They say that other guy... Sergeant Eliott Grodin?" Your breath quickens. 

"Elias."

"Elias. Guy’s got a thing for you. But O'Neill got to you first, they're saying. That Elias is heartbroken, I hear." She shrugs. "News carries fast in places like these. At least you didn't have to tell Elias yourself." Unaware of your trembling hands, she goes on. "Anyway, I haven't had any luck with Sergeant Barnes. He's tough as a nail to sof--"

"Sorry Tish, I have to go," you whisper, and head out, tearing your hair out of its cap. You need to drown your sorrows... the thought of hurting Elias pains you.

Inside the mess, you sit at the makeshift bar, and someone gives you a beer. You pop it open, and the guy who passed it to you laughs.

"You drink like a man, sweetheart." You slam the can down.

"I also suture like one too. If you get your leg blown off, have fun getting your friends to treat you."

You sigh, turning away from him. It's an empty threat, of course. This job is just hard in itself-- you didn't need all the comments as well.

"Weeeell, well well well well, look who came to see me." You freeze, eyes sliding shut. Hands fall to your shoulders, and begin to massage. "Little (y/n). Cheers, babe!" He clinks your can with his, and you feel sick to your stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"I'd rather not."

"Come on, stop being such a buzzkill!" He takes your hand, and you take it back, standing up.

"Why me?" you snap, "Huh? Why'd you pick me to bother?!"

This leaves him stunned, and more than a little embarrassed. He looks around at everyone, laughing nervously.

Dashing outside, you look behind you. He's not following. You consider putting in for a transfer, but then you'd have to leave... him.

"Everything okay?"

You turn. "Elias."

"You don't look so good. And I mean that in the best of ways." His kind smile falters as he realizes how upset you are. "(y/n), what's wrong?"

"God, I had to get away from him."

Elias looks over his shoulder, then back to you. Then he sits down on a log, patting the spot next to him. "O'Neill? What happened?" His voice softens. "Did you two have a fight or something?"

You frown. "I wouldn't even call it that. A proper fight requires someone to be emotionally invested."

Elias sparks up a cigarette, and offers you a drag. "But you and O'Neill, aren't you...?"

By Elias' confused expression, you slowly start to realize what he means.

"Aren't we what?"

He smirks. "You gonna make me say it?"

"What gives everyone the idea that we were?"

"Are you kidding?" Elias huffs, "O'Neill's been telling the whole camp you're his girl, and that you two... well, every time he's got R&R, you... keep his bed warm." You make a face, and Elias nods. "I take it you don't. Figures. He'd have to pay someone to like him."

"I don't even want anything to do with the man, but he's the deafest son of a bitch in this platoon when it comes to someone telling him no."

Elias slides in closer to you. "That is probably the best description of Sergeant O'Neill I've heard yet."

You laugh. Elias' eyes close as he revels in the sound of your laughter. A strong, protective urge cocoons him.

During an NVA raid the next day, Elias finds himself the perfect opportunity to speak his mind.

"Hey, O'Neill."

The redhead turns back in the little hut, stalking over to Elias with a patronizing glare.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Lay off her."

"I'm sorry?" he frowns.

"Don't tell me, tell her." Elias leans against the wall. "You know exactly who I mean."

"You," O'Neill points at him, chewing his gum loudly in Elias' face, "Are meddling in shit you don't wanna meddle in, buddy. I could toss you into a raveen and say Charlie got ya, okay, I can do all of that without barely flexing."

"I invite you to," Elias says, stepping up in the other man's space and unfolding his arms. O'Neill's eyes cast down, and he stutters.

"Just... stay out of my fuckin’ personal life, Elias. Or I'll fuckin’ report you."

Elias watches him go, and shakes his head. Men like O'Neill never learn.

As the sun goes down and darkness falls over the valleys of Vietnam, you walk from the medical tent toward the nurses' quarters on the other side of the quiet barracks. No matter how beautiful the sunsets were here, you rarely enjoyed them with the screaming of the soldiers you treat still ringing in your ears.

A few twigs snap behind you, and you turn to see a tall man stumble out of a tent. Irrational fear courses through you.

"Running to Elias with your problems, now?" The sloshing flask of bourbon is clenched in O'Neill's hand, and he takes one last drag on his cigarette before whipping it into a puddle.

"Sergeant--"

"Don't Sergeant O'Neill me, honey, I'm not in the mood." He keeps walking forward, and you back up as he slurs at you. "I-I don't even see how I'm a problem! I'm a great guy, what's-- what's not to love?!"

"Sergeant--" He keeps walking.

"Just answer the goddamn question!"

"Get out of my way!"

"Get BACK here, you little bitch!" O'Neill snaps, and grabs your wrist, jerking you back with force. When he realizes what he did, he lets go and covers his mouth like a frightened little boy. He looks like he's about to cry.

"I'm... s... look, I just-- I need love too, ya know! I-I'm not a heartless prick like some of these other assholes here, I... I deserve love! I'm just..." He breaks down into a blubbery mess. "I-I'm just so fucking scared!" He cries for a minute, before taking you by your arms, walking you backward toward the forest. You try to jerk your arm away, but he wraps you in an uncomfortable hug.

“Hey--!”

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing with her?!" You both turn, and see Elias storming angrily from the far tent, where his group of friends congregated after hours. You'd never been so happy to see anyone. "Get your hands off her," Elias all but growls, and, seeing how furious the man looks, O'Neill complies, holding his hands up. "You're a fucking piece of work, you know that?" Elias says, voice so low that you can tell just how hard it is for him to contain his anger.

"H-hey, you don't know what the hell you're talking about," O'Neill warns, "Walking around like the caped crusader of the nurses. Hey, get back here and be a man!"

"You want me to be a man?" Elias nods. O'Neill gets in close, so close Elias can smell the liquor on his breath. His eyes dart around in the dark, flickering with a mixture of nerves and desperation.

"Hey... n-nobody'll know, man. You and me? We could just take her back there, and--" Elias' fist ends that proposition, with a swift punch to O'Neill's jaw. You hold onto his arm, and, leaving the tall man lying in the mud, he takes you by the hand, leading you back to the tent.

Warmth cascades over you as you enter it, the sound of laughter, the blissful vibe, clouds of smoke, and psychedelic music overtaking you. It's a welcome change from the outside.

"A chick?" King asks, grinning.

“A nurse,” Lerner corrects playfully.

"Lay off guys, it's her first time in here," Elias says.

"You mean we're not allowed to scare her?" Rhah jokes, baring his teeth, “It is the Underworld, man. Baaaaah!”

"She ain't even supposed to be here," Lerner laughs, strumming his guitar, and Elias turns.

"You gonna report me, ya little weasel?" Both of their tones are light-- you can tell already that arguments never get far in here, and every man here is a friend of the others. The young man just smiles easily, taking another hit of whatever he's smoking, and Elias brings you over to a hammock in the corner. You're immediately at ease.

"You okay?" he asks you softly. You nod, but he presses. "Are you sure, (y/n)? Are you really sure?”

“Yeah.”

“It took everything I had not to fry that bastard to a crisp out there, swear to Christ. Men in this war... we think we can do whatever we want out here, no consequences. They ignore the fact that you're a fucking human being."

"Thank you," you say, voice trembling, and he wraps you in a hug. It's nothing like O'Neill's forced contact-- it's gentle, and protective, and you feel eternal just sitting there with him, swinging back and forth.

"You don't need to thank me for being there, flower child," he murmurs back, "...I'll always be there."

Your heart skips a beat. For some reason, that hits home, and makes you feel safer than you've ever felt in your life. Something inside of you aches with longing as you stare at his lips, and you place your hand on his leg. Something in his face changes when he sees you looking at him the way you are, and he tentatively moves in closer. You make no move to evade, so he clutches the back of your head, pressing your lips together. It's sweet, barely there, but you want more, and you kiss him back, reciprocating against his soft lips with a little more passion. You both finally break for air, and he seems surprised. The look you give him tells him not to be, so he relaxes a little.

Your head rests against the nape of his neck, and he takes to softly stroking the base of your head, resting his head against yours. Everyone in the room is half watching, out of the corners of their eyes. Elias still outranks most of them, even after hours, and none of them want to intrude on his privacy. Elias doesn't seem to care, though. He threads his fingers with yours, rocking you both on the hammock, eyes blissfully closed.

"Would you look at that?" Lerner hisses.

King smacks Chris in the arm. "Ain't it cute? Shit, if all I gotta do is bring a chick back to the Underworld to get some pussy, how come I ain't done it yet?"

“Well cause uh, you’re not Elias, and you don’t look like a motherfuckin’ angel like he does,” Chris grins. King gives him a look.

“You wan’ go trade places with her, Chris, suck his dick?” Chris topples backward into Lerner, giggling uncontrollably from the weed and waving his hands wildly. 

"I always said it," Rhah hisses back to the group, philosophizing as usual, "If anyone was going to get a girl, it would be one Elias Grodin. The soldier... the man... the legend."

Your eyelids grow heavy as well over on the hammock, but when he goes to lay you both down, you hesitate.

"’Lias. I'm a nurse," you whisper, "I can't be seen with an officer like this. I'll lose my position. You could lose yours too."

Elias gazes around at everyone. They finally look over now, with confidence.

"Hey," Chris says quietly, laughter subsided, "We won't say anything, man." You two look into the earnest faces of every nodding man in the tent, and rest assured, reclining to hold each other for the rest of the night.

 Elias found himself, as he stared down at the pretty girl in his arms, wishing he never had to let go-- of you, or of this night.

The next day, you can't shake the good feeling you've had since the night before. Even just the memory of sleeping on top of Elias' chest, while breaking every rule in the handbook, would make this whole thing bearable.

Waking you from your daydream, O'Neill comes up to you, looking extremely unsettled. He's got a bruise forming from where Elias punched him last night, and a slight stagger. He puts his hands up. 

"I'd just like to, uh..." he starts, "I'd like to say how sorry I am, (y/n). Ma’am. For last night.”

“Did you get threatened with a court martial?” You quirk an eyebrow. You wouldn’t put it past Elias to report that incident. 

O’Neill looks down. “Look. I just... got out of hand. I'm not myself when I drink."

You stare him straight in the eyes, refusing to be passive.

"Noted. Red... I know how hard this must be for you. I'm a nurse; I see what you have to deal with first hand. But my responsibilities end at your physical well being. I'm not a comfort girl." You step in closer. "Now stay away from me. If you ever touch me again, I'll give you a bruise bigger than that one you have." Elias comes up behind you, and puts a hand on your shoulder. O'Neill gets the message, and leaves. 

Elias' hand then drops down your arm, and he curls his pinky finger around yours. It's not much, but for now-- it's enough.

#elias x reader #elias grodin #elias grodin x reader #reader x elias grodin #platoon #elias platoon #willem dafoe #willem dafoe x reader #reader x willem dafoe #green goblin #norman osborn x reader #norman osborn #chris taylor #charlie sheen #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #platoon fanfiction #platoon movie #john c mcginley #red oneill #sergeant elias #sergeant oneill

[kensboytoy]

Pulled Back from the Ledge

Title: Pulled Back From The Ledge Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia Characters: Present Mic/Hizashi Yamada, Reader Ratings: Mature

Notes:

WARNING: This fic has a depiction of mental illness and a suicide attempt. It has a happy ending but this was an emotional piece I started one day when I was ready to take my own life. I wrote this as a piece for myself to heal so please keep that in mind! If you are in this state of mind, PLEASE remember that people are there for you. You are loved. 

[Read on AO3 or Keep Reading below!]

You had been living with this illness for so long that you couldn’t really remember who you were before it. It had to have been easier than this. People probably liked you more before you pushed everyone away. It was an unfortunate defense mechanism of your depression: get everyone out of your life and isolate yourself. Things would be easier when you were alone. You’d be in control of this and no one would come looking for you.

The wind softly stung your exposed arms with the coldness of the night air. Goosebumps ran along your body and you were surprised that you could feel anything with how numb you were inside. Only pinpricks for a moment before the emptiness of static filled your stomach and sunk your heart again. The moon was full as it hung above you, almost watching in anticipation of your next move.

Standing on the edge of the rooftop you came to have lunch on back when you could stand to be outside, you peered down at the empty parking lot four stories below. This height would be enough to kill you on impact. You hoped. Despite your intense need to die, you never really did plan too much ahead. You left the vagueness in the back of your mind as an array of different options left up to the day you would inevitably end your own life. There was no certain tie to this place that you needed to have your guts peeled off the pavement. No symbolic message it would hold when they found your body.

The pain was just too much. It had swallowed you whole and spit you back up a few times so that you could escape back to your mediocre life time and time again. Back to the daily grind where your emotions were ground down into ashes. You had no motivation. No spark for life. Every day was a challenge to even choose to get up instead of rolling back over to sleep. To avoid being awake was a luxury that the world wouldn’t let you have.

So, you wanted to sleep forever.

You’d like to think of it as sleep. You weren’t really sure what came after stepping off a tall building. Probably pain. That was something you desperately wanted to avoid at all costs. Easier that way to keep not feeling anything.

Except now there were tears rolling down your cheeks. Red hot as they burned your eyes trying to escape. You let them, making no move to wipe them away. It didn’t matter if they blurred your vision, your target was just a step away no matter what.

Couldn’t back down now. The voice in your head that usually kept you from the last stage of your plan was nowhere around. Not a peep from your conscience - had that given up on you too?

Frustrated, you grabbed the sides of your head to silence all the chatter, all the thousands of voices telling you that you were worthless. That you deserved everything - every ounce of pain, all the isolation. This was all you knew now. You already committed to this, no use in beating yourself up. Close your eyes and think of something nice. Maybe one vacation you always dreamt of taking but never did. Perhaps that old movie you once had on repeat when it was a comfort to you when you were younger. Anything pleasant to finish your life off with.

Your body began to step closer to the edge as you racked your brain for any semblance of comfort. The tears began to stop and yet you still could not see the world around you. Everything was a blur as you moved to take the final step, your arms falling loosely to your sides. You waited to feel the embrace of the wind taking you down to your grave like the only comforting hug you would get now.

However, your plan was shortly lived as a horribly loud shout pulled you out of your robotic movements.

“HEEEEEEEY LISTENER!” the voice shrieked, causing you to step back in shock.

You immediately covered your ears and cowered from the noise, the force of it knocking the wind from your lungs. Before you could even recover, you felt two hands grab you by the collar and pull you further away from your grave. You were placed in a firm headlock preventing you from moving, your eyes blinking back the tears to see what the hell had interrupted you.

“You sleepwalkin’ or what? Good thing you got the best alarm in the world to come wake you up!”

Confused, you looked up at the beaming figure. Holy shit. A Pro Hero?! What the hell were they doing here? You gawked as you stared at the gaudy leather outfit, enraptured by the heavy speakers he wore around his neck. His hair alone was enough to distract you from the current situation at hand, along with curious eyes now scanning your face from behind his stylish frames.

“Eh? C’mon, kid. I know I’m easy on the eyes, but you don’t gotta stare so much!” he joked with a toothy smile.

“Uhm,” you tried to speak but the movement felt like sandpaper on your lungs. Your head was still swirling as you tried your best to stop your brain from rattling around from that loud voice. Even his speaking volume was loud enough to pull you from the depths of your inner monologue.

“I know, not every day you’d get to see the face of the best DJ in the world!! It’s a very lucky thing, dear listener. You got your own private concert!”

As he continued to humbly brag about himself, he pulled you further and further away from danger. You felt his grip on you start to slack when he felt comfortable enough that you couldn’t book it off the edge anymore. Slowly, he pulled you up and dusted off your jacket, beaming down at you.

“Are you… Present Mic?” you asked dumbly, causing him to bring his hands up to pose dramatically at your realization.

“Of course, little listener! I knew my gaze would burn a fire into your soul so you’d know who I am! Kinda took a while though...”

The man pouted at the last bit, pursing his lips together so you couldn’t exactly hear what he was saying. Damn Heroes always muttering to themselves. You let out an exasperated sigh when you finally looked back up at him.

“Why… why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out there fighting villains?”

Mic looked at you carefully. You were in rough shape - hair disheveled, bags under your eyes from the sleepless nights, your lips were chapped and shriveled, and it was very clear that you were not mentally stable enough to be left alone. In short: you looked like hell twice over.

“Eh? Fighting villains, hm? I mean, it looks like you were out here doin’ just that.”

You looked puzzled at that. What on Earth was he saying? You opened your mouth to voice your confusion before he continued on.

“You were battlin’ something fierce tonight, huh? A whole gang of villains swarming around you, I bet.” He casually walked around you, kicking his legs around so that he spun every time you two made eye contact. Finally, he lowered his shades and grinned again. “So I thought you needed some back-up, kid! Can’t go fighting so many bad guys alone.”

Slowly, you began to understand. This man - no, this hero wasn’t belittling you. Wasn’t mocking you for trying to hurl yourself off the roof. The embarrassment of getting caught was starting to wash away the more he spoke to you like an equal. You weren’t a Pro Hero, nowhere close to one, but he was talking to you like you were important.

“I don’t think those bad guys were as tough as the ones you fight, Mic,” came your weak muttering.

At that, he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. It had never hit you how badly you needed someone’s warmth until then. You felt your eyes sting with tears as the hero’s spiral eyes bore into you with such care.

“Listener, those are the worst kind of villains we face. They get up all in your frequency and jam it - sometimes it’s hard to listen to a different tune.” Gingerly, he lifted your chin so you could look at him. “It’s okay, alright? You luckily have the loudest voice in all of Japan right here ta help ya out!”

Your mask began to crack.

Whether it was just from the sheer kindness of his words or your adrenaline wearing away from your little stunt, you simply collapsed into the heaviest cry you had ever let out. The heaviness from your body felt like it had up-heaved and fallen at your feet. As your nerves shook your body while the tears overflowed, you fell to your knees and wept. You clutched the sides of your head, letting out pained cries as you let the sadness and relief run through you.

Mic had not flinched. He hadn’t been disgusted or judgmental as he watched you spill your metaphorical guts out with this cry - it was a far better option than what you had planned. The Pro Hero watched in a rare moment of silence, waiting patiently until he saw an opening. When you bent over and let the snot and tears fall onto the ground, you felt his hand firmly on your back, rubbing circles as you cried.

His warmth was nothing you could have imagined. Even with just his fingertips exposed and against you, your cold husk of a body felt the heat radiate to your core. Slowly, you stopped full on sobbing and instead made little whimpers as you tried to regain a steady breath.

That was when he enveloped you in his arms, pulling you to his chest so that you could focus on his steady heartbeat. Mic knew the importance of having any calm after the storm. You had just fought your own demons. The DJ was fully aware that you needed comfort above a lecture.

“It’s okay, kid. I gotcha now,” he managed to speak softly and yet his voice was everything. A light. Hope. “You’re safe. You’re stuck with me now, ya dig? So go ahead and let it all out.”

You took him up on that. It hit you in waves, coming just as soon as you greedily gulped for air since your nasal passages were blocked up. Your body would shake as you sobbed softly into the chest of the hero. Mic never faltered for a moment. He continued to rub at your back as he held you there. You were safe.

Eventually, after what seemed like a painful eternity, you couldn’t cry anymore. It felt like all the water from your body had escaped from your eyes. Everything was painful and rough physically, but emotionally? At least you were feeling something. Your conscience was back and berating you, filling you with a different kind of noise. The self-loathing kind of noise.

Mic must have seen the expression on your face as you winced because he had you gently get to your feet before he swung an arm over your shoulders. He gave you a toothy smile as if he were proud of you for all that embarrassing mess.

“You know what I do after a good cry, listener? Tons and tons of konbini food!” he cheered.

You looked at him skeptically for a moment. Had he just admitted that he cries too? Well, duh, he was human. Humans do have emotions, even when they graduate to being a Pro Hero.

“C’mon. Let’s pick out some stuff to binge ourselves on, yeah? I think you deserve it after that tough battle.”

You didn’t know what to say. Why was he still here? The danger of killing yourself was gone. Shouldn’t he have captured you and brought you to a hospital or something? Why was he wasting time and now wanting to get snacks?

As you pondered, he led you off the roof and down to the streets. He made sure to keep an arm on your shoulder or his hand on you at all cost. To make sure you couldn’t try anything else, you assumed. The warmth of another person had felt amazing and much needed after that. You had tried your best to regain any semblance of looking less like a wreck than you did before you entered the store. Mic saw your fussing and gently pulled an old bandana from one of his pockets.

“Here, listener. Old thing’s all beat up but it makes an okay hankie!”

Shyly, you thanked him and wiped your face to clear up all the dried tears and sweat. He waited patiently before you were ready, his grin back on his face as he shoved you inside the store. The harsh sting of the fluorescent lights hit you almost as hard as that shout had to save you. You recoiled and pressed yourself against his arm, face in his jacket as you groaned.

That was when he handed you something more special than just a beat up bandana. The triangle shades were now between his two fingers as he offered them to you gently. You were floored. That was a staple of his costume! Could you really take them-

Your stare eventually landed at his beautiful spiral eyes. Green - wait, red? - no, definitely green with a twinkling curiosity of you. He shot you a wink and gestured for you to take the sunglasses.

“U-um, are you-”

Mic tutted softly before he slipped them on you himself. He pulled away and looked at you proudly.

“Hey, hey! Not half bad, listener,” the hero complimented. “Though, I think they go with my style more, yeah? You can use ‘em in here so your eyes don’t fry.”

He squinted at the lights above you two, wrinkling his nose.

“I swear, they blast these things up to eleven when it’s as dark as night outside.” Mic laughed and shook his head, amused at the sight of you in his shades. “Anyways, listener! Snacktime! I’m quite hungry myself from my patrol earlier - I think I’m cravin’ somethin’ salty.”

You walked with him through the aisles, watching as he scooped a basket up from the front before knocking bags of chips and other salty snacks one by one into it. Amused at his penchant for salty things, you found yourself glancing at a few bags of chips yourself. You didn’t have time to look over the bags before a gloved hand reached out and added them to the basket.

“Th-that’s too many,” you whined. “You don’t-”

“Aw yeah! Drink time!” he managed to cut you off as you two approached the cooler of cute beverages.

Mic grabbed a coffee, two energy drinks, and a couple things of black tea. You wondered if that was just a daily amount of caffeine to power the overactive man or was it enough to kill a normal person? The thought made you chuckle to yourself. Present Mic watched from the corner of his eye at that small victory, his lips tugging into a grin.

You two made your selections and he swiped up a few sweets and some premade meals before he checked out with the heavy basket of junk. The cashier gawked at the sight of the hero and a seemingly average person now wearing his shades, Mic chatting him up and laying on his usual schtick of everyone being his fanclub. Eventually, everything was bagged up and you two were out the door.

“Ah, Mic,” you piped up, taking off the glasses now that you two were in the comfort of darkness. “Um, thank you. For all of this. I…”

Mic carefully took his glasses and slipped them on before he placed two bags into your hands. You looked at the contents, perplexed that it was a bunch of the premade meals he had bought.

“I know it’s gonna be hard tryin’ to get back to normal. I know I never wanted to cook for myself when I felt like crap. So those should last ya about a week. Maybe less if you wanna indulge a bit.”

You paused, staring up at him in disbelief. If you had any tears left, you knew they’d be welling up in your eyes.

“Why… why are you doing all this? You saved me from hurling myself off a building, dragged me to get snacks, let me borrow your glasses, and now this? Surely you have better things to do.”

That was when you saw Present Mic’s smile falter only for a moment before you felt the warm embrace of him again.

“Listener, I know you probably can’t hear reason over all those voices on your wavelength, but people care. I saw a person in distress tonight - someone so hurt by everything that they wanted to take their own life. You know how relieved I was that I saw you head up there tonight? I knew that buildin’ was closed. That you weren’t going up there for something fun. You looked like you were just goin’ through the motions…”

His words started to sink in. Present Mic could see it on your face that you weren’t in your right mind. If he hadn’t seen you when he did…

“You looked like you needed a friend,” he continued, his smile back on his face as he looked at you. “Sometimes, when we’re like that, we just want someone to come in and knock some sense into us. Luckily, it didn’t take much with ya! I think you really just needed some time to jam out those shitty feelings.”

You blushed, the embarrassment on your face again as you looked away. However, he caught your head gently with his fingers so he knew his words would register with you. You couldn’t toss this aside as fake sentiment if he poured his heart into them.

“Y-you’re a hero,” you blurted out. “You just wanna be friends to save me. Th-that’s all this is!”

Mic blinked in surprise. Then, a soft laugh.

“Listener, if I wanted to save you, I woulda taken you down to the hospital in that headlock earlier and dropped you off. While, yeah, I technically saved you, this ain’t what that’s solely about! I want you to save yourself. To make the biggest and hardest steps right now.”

You looked at him quizzically.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the park and eat so I can explain.”

The walk to the park was short enough distance-wise, a few minutes perhaps. What felt like it taking an eternity was the fact that your head was riddled with thoughts again. They bubbled up and consumed you. Making you think that at any moment Mic would turn against you and throw you into a psych ward so they would deal with you instead.

But that never happened. Instead, the Pro Hero hopped onto a park bench and sat on the thin edge of the backing of it. He let his thick boots rest against the actual seat before he hastily dug into the bag to fish out his chips. With one hand, he popped the bag open and watched all the chips fall into his lap.

Damnit, so much for looking cool. He laughed it off and gathered the chips into a pile so he could munch on them.

You slowly took a seat next to him and reached for a drink. All the crying had left your body parched and your body was begging for hydration. Once you popped the lid, you greedily gulped down the beverage in a matter of seconds. When you reached for another, Mic gently grabbed your hand and looked at you more sternly than you imagined the goofy hero to do.

“Hey, hey. Slower, listener. You’re gonna get wicked sick if you keep going at that pace. Actually enjoy the taste, yeah?”

You nodded and apologized around the lip of the bottle before taking a few sips instead of big gulps. Mic smiled at that and dug into his greasy guilty pleasure. Eventually, you found yourself reaching for a piece of roll cake and nibbling on it with the sweetness skyrocketing your tastebuds. Maybe it was from the lack of feeding yourself lately or maybe it was just a damn good piece of cake. Whichever it was, your eyes lit up immediately.

Eating the treat made you feel more relaxed. You let your emotions fade away to just enjoy something for once. To melt away in the layers of cake and frosting was finally a small bliss you could allow yourself. It may have sounded stupid to anyone else but to others who shared a pain similar to you, you knew anything could be a small victory against your illness.

Mic knew this too.

The man who had been claimed to be made of sunshine knew all too well what it was like to celebrate these victories. So, he urged you on with another slice while he casually consumed his coffee. You didn’t refuse it and soon enough found yourself digging into the second piece. The sweetness of the purple yam was even better than the last. A small, happy grunt left your lips as you chowed down. It felt nice to be content for once.

“Purple yam is the way to your heart, huh?” Mic laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Next time?” you said, pausing your consumption to give him another perplexed look.

“Well duh! Next time we meet up so you can give me a status report.”

You lowered your cake and frowned at him, one eyebrow raised as you looked expectantly for an explanation. Mic tossed back the rest of his drink with a satisfied ‘ah!’ and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Y’know, we heroes don’t expect anything when we save people. Comes with the job and government pays us fair.” He shrugged, letting his head loll back so he could examine the stars above. “But that doesn’t mean that we just let people go scott-free. You caused quite a big stir, listener - most folks would toss you to the police or a hospital, y’know.”

Present Mic finally leaned forward so he could look at you properly.

“Friends check up on friends. This was your loud wake-up call, kid! That people care. I’m people!” He patted the front of his jacket with both hands. “My condition for letting you go back to your bed tonight and not immediately to a place with blinding bright lights an’ people jabbin’ you with all sorts of medical equipment is that you gotta make a promise. No more doin’ stupid shit!”

The bluntness surprised you. Coming from a man who had just comforted you profusely, the statement was a small slap in the face. You looked at the cake sitting idly in your lap while you processed the words.

“So. I check up on you every week, yeah? You tell me all the small steps you made - it can be anything from getting into therapy to just waking up and taking a shower when all you wanted to do was sleep for longer. Small laps are better than none, ya hear?” Mic gingerly placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “This is a battle that will last your entire life, listener. I might not always be around to pull you from that ledge. So you gotta make those steps so you can be the Hero that pulls yourself away. The Hero that wakes up every morning, looks in the mirror, and yells ‘I got this!’ That’s all I want from this whole thing.”

Oh. Oh, so you could cry more at this. The last of your tears rolled down your cheeks at the pep talk this Pro Hero was giving you. He understood. He was giving you a chance. It would have been easier to just send you away somewhere instead of sitting in a park in the middle of the night, buying you meals, and just talking to you like a person. Mic was here. Someone was there for you and the monsters in your head suddenly felt a bit less terrifying.

Thin fingers brushed away the tears, kind eyes from behind the shades offering you safety. A smile, a genuine smile graced your face and, once again, you were wrapped in a tight hug. It lingered for awhile before you finally pulled away to finish your cake with the warmth and comfort resting in your soul.

“Hey, lemme see your phone real quick,” Mic interrupted as he held out his hand.

You fished in your pocket for the device and handed it over knowing that it was better not to ask questions at this point. Mic clearly was headstrong and capable of convincing you to follow along with his plan. He began to type in something and then pull away for a quick selfie. You blushed when he handed it back, the new contact put in. Lots of obnoxious emojis followed his name, of course. You rolled your eyes and laughed. Mic held up his phone and rocked it back and forth, signalling for you to text him. With a few clicks, you sent him an image of some meme of a cat with teary eyes and a bunch of hearts. You heard him snort as he saved your number to his phone.

“There. You got my number. I’ll send you some contacts I know to get started with gettin’ real help,” he beamed. “You text me when you feel like those voices are getting bad again, okay?”

A small nod.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For all this.”

“Of course! Anything for my favorite listener!”

That made you blush again, the warmth feeling wonderful on your cheeks. You two shared a laugh and continued eating junk food to your heart’s content. Mic regaled you with a story of how he can’t eat spicy chips anymore otherwise he breathes fire. You told him about the time you believed for an entire year that onigiri were jelly donuts.

The two of you swapped stories and you felt the last of the monsters holding you back slip away into hibernation. You had a friend who was going to check up on you even if you tried to hide from the world. To pull you off that ledge when you really needed it. His loud voice was already chasing away the monsters and planting seeds of self-worth into your head. The love that radiated from the man was more powerful than any Quirk.

Present Mic was your number one hero.

#Present Mic #Hizashi Yamada #Works of Oz #Long Post

[texanredrose]

Communication is Key

A commission for @psychicrebelartisan! Based on a joke.

Ruby narrowed her eyes, flipping her pencil around to erase the last line she’d written. Blake laid on her best, entirely engrossed in her latest book while Yang did push-ups between their expertly crafted- if she did say so herself- bunk beds. A nice, calm weekend filled with some quality downtime that each of them spent in their own way.

Well, honestly, she’d rather not be spending her morning studying for their upcoming test in Grimm Studies, but her partner had them on a bit of a schedule. Seeing as Weiss had gone off to the combat rooms two hours ago, Ruby either had to study now or get an earful and then study, which always kinda put a damper on the whole thing.

“Did you know that Creepers can congregate into colonies of more than two hundred?”

“I thought it was one-fifty?” Yang paused, pushing out a breath. “Or was that how many push-ups I was on? Crap.”

“You were on one hundred and fifteen; you’ve been counting under your breath the whole time.” Blake flicked one of her feline ears, the ribbon she used for her bow set aside for the moment. “And they just recently discovered the colony size; one-fifty was the old estimate.”

“Oh, cool.”

Ruby chuckled. “Sorry, Sis, didn’t mean to throw you off.”

“Hey, you probably helped me ace the test!”

“Yes, because missing that perfect score would be oh so tragic.”

“Ah, c’mon, Blakey, don’t be a-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m throwing my book at you.”

Ruby smiled, trying hard not to laugh out loud. No doubt Yang was about to make a very specific pun, one she’d made countless times before but got shot down before it could even come out this time. A quick glance over proved that Blake wasn’t actually mad about it and probably wouldn’t throw her book- she usually at least grabbed her bookmark if it was going to leave her hands- but her sister relented anyway with a chuckle before returning to her exercise.

Then, the door opened and Weiss drug herself inside, obviously worn out from her practicing. “The next time Pyrrha suggests we spar together, someone please remind me of this moment.”

Ruby winced, collecting up her papers and setting them in her book- as close to a bookmark as she ever came- and turning around in her chair. “Oh, she didn’t go easy on ya, did she?”

“Unfortunately, I’m quite certain she did.” The heiress groused, her combat outfit showing worse for wear and Myrtenaster still in hand. Which, odd- usually, Weiss secured her weapon in the assigned locker near the combat practice arenas; she only brought it back to the room for maintenance. “Apparently, my skills are still in need of some refinement.”

“What happened to Myrtenaster?”

“Hm?” She raised a brow at Blake before looking down, the pinch to her brows indicating annoyance. “Dust damnit.”

“You didn’t even realize you’d carried it all the way up here, did ya?” Yang chuckled, pausing in her exercise to sit back on her heels with a grin. “Yeah, sparring against Pyrrha kinda wipes your mind blank. She’s really good.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She turned around. “I’ll be back-”

“Hey, wait.” Although she couldn’t really tell at that distance, she thought the dust rapier sported a few new knicks along the guard. “I have to go down to check on Crescent Rose anyway. I’ll take it back for you.”

Briefly, a war raged, between a chiding remark on weapons not needing daily maintenance and her exhaustion from the spar. Ultimately, the latter won out. “Fine. I’m in dire need of a shower and a fresh change of clothes anyway.” She walked over, handing off Myrtenaster before heading to collect up her small armada of hair care products- put to shame only by Yang’s- and other essential shower supplies before heading out the door. “If I’m not back in two hours, assume I’ve expired and let me rest in peace.”

Once the door closed, Yang clicked her tongue. “She’s always so hard on herself. Girl’s gotta lighten up.”

“Good luck with that,” Blake said, almost returning to her book but catching something out of the corner of her eye. “Ruby? Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” She held up Myrtenaster, which she’d been inspecting thoroughly for the past few minutes. “Weiss was so tired, she didn’t notice the damage, and I’m not sure if I can fix it.”

“Whoa, back up, damage?” Yang got to her feet and came over, whistling low.

As far as weapons went, Myrtenaster had a fairly straight forward design. The chambers that housed the dust were probably the most complicated part; as luck would have it, the plating that covered them was the part that was damaged, bent at such an angle that it probably wouldn’t cause any functional issues but it definitely looked like changing out the dust would be a bit more difficult than it should be. Add to that a few scratches in the otherwise durable metal and Ruby had to sigh, shaking her head.

“These plates need to be replaced and I don’t have the spare materials to do it.” She winced. “At least, not in white. I have an extra casing for Crescent Rose’s headpiece but-”

“Well, hold on; there’s machines down in the shop garage that could easily cut a new plate. We just need to pick up some Hunter grade metal.” Yang went over to where her scroll sat on the dresser, smiling as she tapped on an icon. “Yeah, I should have enough to grade some raw metal. How much would we need?”

Without hesitation, she pulled a fresh piece of paper out and started scribbling away, rounding up to make sure they’d have enough; she could eyeball it pretty well but definitely wanted to err on the safe side. While she was at it, she did a rough blueprint so she could visualize how they’d need to machine it in order to make a seamless replacement.

After a few more calculations, she circled the ending number with a smile. “There.”

“Sweet, I can afford that.” Then, Yang winced. “Not sure how we’re going to get the detailing down, though.”

“I can do that part.” Blake offered, setting her bookmark between the pages and getting off the bed, amber eyes tracing along the undamaged plate before she nodded. “It’s not too different from calligraphy.”

“You know calligraphy?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Great!” Ruby quickly wrote down the weight and specifications of the metal they’d need on a separate paper, handing it off to her sister. “While you’re grabbing the materials, I’ll get to work on a better schematic.”

“We can hide Myrtenaster under my bed until it’s done.” At the curious looks she received, Blake merely shrugged. “It’s not like we can put it under your beds.”

“Point.” Yang snatched up the paper. “Back in an hour!”

“I’ll meet you down in the garage!” She called out as her sister threw on her jacket, shaking her head. “Not sure what to tell Weiss about where Yang and I went, though.”

“Leave that part to me and send me a text when it’s my turn.” Blake patted her shoulder. “Trust me, I know how to keep a secret.”

Ruby laughed, bending over the desk to start working in earnest on the dimensions.

Later that night, they’d managed to successfully keep their teammate in the dark about the location of her weapon, Ruby somehow managing to convince her that she’d put it in Weiss’ locker, just as she said she would. While Blake slipped off to put the finishing touches on the new plates that Yang had machined out, her sister used jokes to thoroughly distract Weiss from all thoughts regarding Myrtenaster, eventually leading to a pun war that had almost made Ruby bang her head against her desk.

One would think she’d be used to it by now but one would be wrong, in fact.

“Ya know what, I gotta be honest, you’re starting to get pretty good at this!” Yang laughed, lounging on her bunk while watching Weiss, glaring up at the blonde from hers. “A few more years and they might even be funny.”

“Forgive me if I’ve only had the past few months to indulge in bad habits,” Weiss replied, though she couldn’t hide the way she preened at that bit of praise. Ruby didn’t exactly get it but somehow the heiress responded better to teasing compliments that flat out ones and Yang had picked up on it first. “Now, where is Blake? We should be heading to dinner sometime soon.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sure she’ll be right here!” She’d pulled the ‘team leader’ card earlier to keep her partner from sending a text earlier but now found herself running out of excuses. “She said she was on her way!”

“That was thirty minutes ago.”

“C’mon, Princess.” Yang hopped down from her bunk. “Let’s go down and grab ourselves a table. You know how Blakey is; I’m sure she just got lost in another book. Ruby can wait for her to get back.”

A huff. “Fine.” Getting to her feet, the two started for the door. “And you’d better come down soon, Ruby Rose! You’re not having another dinner that’s only comprised of dessert because the main line’s closed!”

“Okay, okay! We’ll be down as soon as Blake gets here!” She ducked her head, letting out a sigh of relief the moment the door closed. Now, she could retrieve her scroll, hoping she wouldn’t disturb the Faunus. She’d actually never sent the message earlier, for exactly that reason.

A moment later, the door opened and Blake stepped through, letting out her own sigh of relief and leaning back against the door, holding Myrtenaster in her off hand. “That was close.”

“But she didn’t see you, right?”

“No.” A small smile. “I thought you two would’ve gotten her to go down for dinner already. Thankfully, Yang’s loud.”

“No kidding.” Bounding to her feet, she quickly closed the distance. “Can I see?”

Wordlessly, Blake handed over the weapon, and she hadn’t been kidding about her skills with the engraving. Ruby wouldn’t have noticed the swap between the busted plate and the new one, were it not for one slight addition.

Property of Weiss Schnee A Great Friend and Teammate

“I… couldn’t help but make the addition.” Blake shrugged. “It’s like Yang said. She needs to lighten up.”

“Oh, man, she’s going to love this!” Ruby couldn’t help but giggle, though she immediately jumped and hid Myrtenaster behind her back- a bad plan, in hindsight- as the door opened and Yang slipped in with a grin.

“Ah, good, that was you in the hall.” She made a motion with her hand. “Well, c’mon, don’t keep me in the dark! Let’s see it!”

She showed Yang Blake’s handiwork, all three of them beaming that they’d pulled it off- until they heard a certain someone stomping up the hall.

“Quick!” Amber eyes flicked. “My bed!”

In a flurry of rose petals, Ruby stashed Myrtenaster away, knowing better than to try presenting the repaired weapon now. A few things one did not keep from Weiss Schnee: her beauty rest, her favorite chocolate, or her dinner.

“WOULD YOU-” The door burst open, blue eyes scanning the interior of the room before she continued. “THREE HURRY UP?”

“Yep!”

“Right.”

“Coming Weiss!” Ruby hurried to the door, smiling wide.

Yeah, she could be a little demanding from time to time, but Weiss was a great friend! She really couldn’t wait to see her expression!

Although she tried to play it off as best she could, Ruby could hardly sit still. Last night hadn’t provided a good opportunity to present Myrtenaster- Weiss went straight to bed after dinner and, again, one did not mess with her beauty sleep- so she sat on her bed, pretending to be engrossed in playing a game on her scroll against Yang, across the room on her own bunk. Blake had dived straight back into her book while Weiss did some studying of her own, though she abruptly stood up after about an hour.

“I’m going for a walk.” She grimaced, putting a hand to her lower back. “I’m afraid I’m still sore after yesterday’s spar.”

“Don’t let Pyrrha catch you limping; she’ll offer to carry you back to the room.” Yang warned with a chuckle. “She takes that stuff hard.”

“Duly noted.” She scanned around the room. “You three could do with some exercise as well.”

The blonde shrugged. “I went for a run this morning.”

“I did pull ups!”

“Pulling yourself out of bed doesn’t count.”

“I will do pull ups!” She amended. Really, Ruby didn’t mind a little exercise- it took a fair bit of muscle to swing Crescent Rose around- but she didn’t keep as strict a regime for a number of reasons. The first being: she liked to enjoy her time off.

Blake merely looked up from her book, ears canting back briefly.

“Right, well, then, I’m off.”

Weiss left the room, allowing her teammates to spring together, all wearing smiles.

“Oh, man, this is going to be great!”

“Yeah, I can’t wait for her to open her locker.” Yang laughed. “She’s going to be so floored!”

“I do hope we’ll be around when she sees it.” Blake tilted her head slightly. “You know we’re not going to hear the end of it for a while.”

“It’s not like she’s going to be mad.” Ruby reasoned, though she didn’t doubt the veracity of the Faunus’ claims. “She’s just going to try to one up us or something.”

“Oh, I can hear it already.” Her sister adjusted her posture and raised her voice. “How dare you three keep a secret like this from me, really, are we not teammates, we’re not supposed to keep secrets!”

The three of them laughed.

This was going to be good.

The weekend came to an end and they returned to classes with anticipation. However, after a few days, Weiss didn’t seem to act like anything had happened. Which, okay, they had some tests and bookwork on Monday and Tuesday, but surely she checked her weapon locker at some point, right? Ruby couldn’t help it; she’d started to get discouraged.

Did Weiss not like the new plate? Did she even notice?

A hand smacked her shoulder, startling her away from staring blankly at her textbook while supposedly studying. “Hey!”

“Ruby.” Weiss crossed her arms over her chest, starting down at her with just a hint of fury. “What did you do with it?”

She frowned. “With what?”

“With Myrtenaster!” Throwing her hands into the air, the heiress immediately launched into a rant. “When I noticed it wasn’t in my locker on Monday, I didn’t mention it, because maybe you’d put it in yours for some reason, but it’s Wednesday and we have a combat exam in two days! I need to practice!”

“Wait- Yang!” Leaning around her partner, she looked over at her sister. “Did you not put Weiss’ weapon in her locker?”

“What?” The blonde blinked. “I didn’t- you were supposed to put Myrtenaster back!”

“Hold on.” Blake sat up in her bed. “Neither of you put it back?” Then she leaned over, reaching under her bed and pulling the rapier in question out. “Are you two serious?”

“Hey, it was under your bed!” Yang snapped her fingers. “And you were the last one to work on it!”

“I brought it up here so you two could see it! Ruby should’ve put it back!”

“Yang said she was excited about Weiss’ reaction and she’d already gone out on a run!” She defended herself. “I thought she put it back!”

“What are you absolute dolts screaming about?” With a huff, the heiress marched over, finally retrieving her weapon.

“WE DID SOMETHING NICE BUT SHE FORGOT TO GIVE IT TO YOU!” All three of them spoke in tandem and-

Okay. Granted, they probably should’ve talked about who put Myrtenaster where. It wasn’t any one, single person’s fault.

But also, Ruby thought, it wasn’t hers.

She couldn’t really see Weiss’ face but she could see the slight shake in her shoulders as she stared down at Myrtenaster’s guard.

“How dare you,” she said, and for a moment the three exchanged worried glances because they could hear the warble in her voice, but then she snapped her head up to look at them, and they could very clearly see the tears she just barely held back. “How dare you three do something nice for me with absolutely no warning!”

“Wait, Weiss, don’t cry!” Ruby rushed over, throwing her arms around her teammate.

She wasn’t the only one, quickly joined by Blake and Yang as they surrounding the heiress while she clutched her weapon to her chest. “Yeah, c’mon, no tears!”

“We thought you would like it?” Blake offered, ears twitching.

“Of course I like it!” Despite a tear or two slipping out, she cleared her throat and tried glaring at them, though it… wasn’t very effective. “But here you three are, engraving my rapier, and I have no idea how to repay you! I don’t know enough about engraving-”

“Actually.” Yang smiled, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “Ruby noticed one of the guard plates was damaged, so we wanted to replace it for you. The engraving was all Blake.”

“It was Ruby’s idea.” The Faunus shrugged slightly. “I just… added a few touches.”

“Yang machined the parts though and bought the materials!” She smiled, catching her partner’s expression as she obviously fought back even more tears. “You deserve it, Weiss!”

“Not yet,” she replied, before carefully tossing Myrtenaster on her bed and doing her absolutely best to return their hugs. “But I’m going to.”

Ruby smiled, happy that it all turned out for the best and enjoying the group hug with her team.

She just hoped Weiss didn’t go overboard with her ‘payback’; there were a terrifying number of things the heiress to the SDC could buy and they only had a dorm room.

#TRR writes #there's no ship just Team RWBY in V1-2 era being goofball friends #TRR commissions

[yoshuriken]

Mr. Orange Juice

@homestuckss gift for @lostozian ! I saw you asked for dirk and terezi friendship fluff on earth c, but i haven't finished homestuck so i adapted it so i wouldn't write about something uninformed. They're detectives in a pseudo-noir au thingy. I hope you enjoy! :D

* * * *

“Yes yes, I haven’t seen him in two days. I know it’s not that long, but he didn’t show up to our date yesterday evening.”

“I understand. If he can be found, I’ll find him.”

Dirk read the address neatly lettered on the stationary again. It matched the metal number on the brick building in front of him. He knocked, and as expected there was no answer. So he looked under the mat for a spare key, and then the mailbox, but both came up empty. He looked up and saw an open window on the second story, but he wasn’t going to discard his badass trench coat to climb up if he didn’t have to. Finally he picked the lock cleanly and swiftly. The door swung open.

He climbed the narrow stairs to the main room of the apartment: a cozy living room. It smelled like fresh air thanks to the open window, and the only sounds were those that came from the street outside. Dirk approached the window. It’d be odd to leave a window open if you were going out, so maybe Captor was taken somewhere against his will? There was a thin layer of dust on the sill, except for a wide streak brushed away in the middle.

Suddenly a revolver clicked against his shoulder. “Tell me who you are and what you’re doing here, Mr. Orange Juice.” Breath whispered against the back of his neck.

Shit. “Sure, but can I see you first?”

“Nope, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“How so? Though I suppose someone who puts a gun to you and demands your business isn’t exactly keen on fairness anyway.”

“I love fairness. It’s the basis of law. Now, your name, and as you put it, your business?”

“Dirk Strider, PI. I’m looking for someone.”

“PI eh?” She stepped back so Dirk can turn around. The figure before him was wearing a trench coat much like his, but instead of pointy anime shades she had cherry-red ones. She kept the revolver pointed at him. “Either you’re lying or a loony, because I’m the one who’s supposed to be finding Mr. Captor, ya see? Unless you’ve been hired by someone else.”

“I was hired by Lady Peixes.”

“Were you now? What a coincidence, so was I!” She put her hands up in an affected shrug. “I don’t suppose you lick evidence too?”

“I--what?”

She grinned widely, much too widely for someone pointing a gun. “Don’t worry, it’s just a quirk of mine. How about you tell me what you’re really doing here?”

“I have her stationary in my jacket pocket, if you’d like to see it.”

“Sure.”

He slowly opened one side of his coat to show her said pocket, and fished out the stationary with Peixes’ handwriting before handing it to her.

She immediately licked across the whole paper, then nodded in approval. Dirk watched with a bemused expression on his face. “Checks out. Want it back?”

“Uh… no thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” She pointed the gun straight up and fired. But instead of a bullet, it shot out confetti with a loud POP. Dirk jumped and quickly recomposed himself. What a weird girl.

However, now that she was stripped of her weapon, it was time to turn it back on her. He opened the other side of his coat to reveal a katana strapped to his hip. “All right, now it’s my turn. What’s your name, and what are you doing here?”

She just laughed. “The name’s Terezi Pyrope. PI.” She said “PI” with an affected emphasis and smirk. “Like I said, I was hired for the same thing as you, to find Captor. Here,” she handed him a similar note on the same custom stationary. “By the way, if you really want to intimidate someone, it’d help if you actually drew your silly anime weapon.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore; instead she opted to start combing through a hutch.

Dirk turned the paper over in his hand. Yep, it was definitely from Lady Peixes. He noticed Terezi sniffing the contents of each drawer. And she did it so confidently, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to sniff other people’s dishes. “I wouldn’t call a sword silly.”

“It’s definitely silly. That doesn’t make it any less of a weapon though, if that’s what you mean.” Deciding the hutch had nothing of interest, she moved on to the writing desk. Between the shades, the sword, and the calm demeanor, she found this Dirk fellow to be one of the more interesting people she’d met on the job. Noteworthy. Dare she say… cool?

“Why do you think she hired both of us? Competition? Greater chance of success? But why not have us work together?” Dirk mused.

Terezi shrugged. “Who knows. The upper classes are weird. Afraid I’ll find him first?”

“Hell no.” Dirk decided to start on the opposite side of the room, at a bookshelf. “By the way, why did you call me Mr. Orange Juice?”

“Easy! You smell like orange juice, duh!” She looked up from the desks and grinned that wide grin.

“I--what?”

Terezi rolled her eyes dramatically. “C’mon, haven’t you figured it out? I’m blind! I smell things to see.”

Dirk blinked a few times. “I see. I suppose that explains the glasses. Not that I’m one to criticize awesome shades.” He smirked.

“Hell yeah! Shades are the best, categorically.”

“So why did you get into the detective business?”

“For fun. What better way to kick criminal ass than to snoop around and say hardboiled catchphrases?”

Dirk chuckled. “I couldn’t agree more. The hardboiled catchphrase is an essential part of every gumshoe’s arsenal. I also found detective work to be well-suited to my talents.”

“You did?? I would never have guessed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Anyone who hides a sword under their jacket is either a weeb, tryhard, or badass. All three make for a good detective.”

“Which one are you?”

“Badass, obviously!”

“Oh really?”

“I made you tell me everything with a toy.”

“Unusual brand of badass, but I concede the point. Hey, look at this.” Like the sill, the bookshelf has a thin layer of dust, but one book has a streak missing in front of it. Inside the front cover is a note, in the same Peixes stationary, but different handwriting.

They hand the note back and forth. Fish, Ice cream, Red potatoes, Eggs. A shopping list in a novel could just be a random misplacement, but they knew it could be more significant too.

A smile spread across Terezi’s face. It was the widest yet, which unsettled and excited Dirk. He knew that something was about to go down. “What is it?”

“The first letters of each item,” she said as she fished out a match from her pockets. “Spell fire.”

“Invisible ink.”

“Right on.”

Terezi lit the match and carefully burned the paper to reveal the writing. She took more time than necessary and blackened the unneeded corners for fun. Dirk raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Then she held the note aloft triumphantly. Below the faux list, there was an address. “Looks like a beach property,” Dirk said.

“Sweet! Let’s go!” Terezi shoved the note into her pocket and turned to leave, but Dirk stopped her.

“Hey, want to work together? Officially, I mean. It should make our work more efficient, especially since we were hired for the same job anyway. We can split the money too.”

Terezi stuck her tongue out. “Only if you can catch me!” She leapt out the window.

Dirk ran to the window and looked down. Terezi was starting up a bright red motorcycle. If that’s how she’s playing it…

Dirk calmly descended the stairs and exited the building. Terezi was now strapping on her helmet. He sauntered to Sawtooth, his jet black muscle car, and climbed in. It made significantly less noise once started up than Terezi’s bike.

“Nice ride, Strider. A car’ll never outrun my bike, though. Looks like the money’s mine.”

“Is that so? I may have done some work on her that casts doubt on your conclusion.”

“Guess we’ll have to see.”

“Besides, everyone will see and hear you coming in that. Even if you get there first, you’ll attract any hooligans that might be waiting.”

“Great! Remember what I said about kicking criminal ass? The main ingredient in that badass cocktail is criminals.”

“Well I’ve never missed a criminal-ass-kicking cocktail, and I don’t plan to start.”

“Better hurry up then, Mr. Orange Juice.” Her grin was as wide as ever. Dirk was beginning to wonder if it was stuck like that. After everything else just flat-out weird about her, he wouldn’t be surprised. At the very least, any ass-kicking involving her would be even more entertaining than usual.

Terezi pumped the gas and shot off like a rocket. Dirk followed as quickly as he could. Terezi looked back, popped a wheelie, and stuck her tongue out to antagonize him further, not that he was very antagonized to begin with. Mr. Cool and Collected might be a better nickname. It was fun to mess with someone so stoic, especially when he could actually keep up with her.

As they rode, both of them had the same two thoughts: this is the start of a damn good partnership, and today was going to be fun.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep2: Fire, Screaming, More Fire

Last we left Yugi, he’s yet again endangered his life by ditching school in order to duel some magic weirdo in an abandoned warehouse instead of just calling the police. Bakura’s been staring at the outside of this warehouse for at least a few minutes, probably deciding if it’s worth the effort. A rough decision.

Also, I mentioned this last episode, but it became super apparent in this episode with all these slow pans on this kid, but he used to actually look like a child last season but now looks...different? This awkward teen had a real big growth spurt over the past few arcs he was away. Apparently Bakura joined the local barre class or did Keto or maybe just used dark magic? I dunno.

They very clearly were like “we gotta sex up Bakura, he’s just so hard to look at” but then they changed nearly everything BUT the hair? The one irredeemable thing? The most cringey thing to look at on Bakura? they left it? They made him tall and fit but then left this weird mass of shapes on his head?

Anyways, he came out here just to track the puzzle but realized instead, he got a 2 for 1 package deal today.

(read more under the cut)

...he can just un-possess people? Ring beats wizard staff? (or rod, or whatever it is that this guy is holding off camera in the shot below. I think it was called a Millennium rod or something. Makes sense. It’s gold and has an eye on it.)

Keith has been possessed for...who knows how long, and he has a lot to take in. First off, he’s in a different country when last he remembers he was stranded in the ocean. Secondly, he’s in an abandoned warehouse with a minor which is all sorts of awkward to explain to the police. Third off, he’s playing cards? And then fourth off:

So glad I got to post this Bandit Keith meltdown in July. Even when he’s dumped in the ocean, possessed, trapped in a cult, shipped to Japan, and forced to dress like a knock-off heartless, despite alll of that, the flag bandana remained? You can remove all of Bandit Keith from Bandit Keith, but he will always wear his USA pride like someone who’s originally secretly born in Ontario and is desperately trying to hide it from their Texan Mother in Law.

That or he’s totally bald under that bandanna. Like one of those gas station redneck hats.

Here’s a redneck hat for the people in the room that aren’t from the States:

Like I’m 80% certain that Keith’s hair is not his real hair.

Also, damn, this brand is called “Mullet On the Go” and that is the best business name I’ve ever heard.

Yugi just assumes that Bandit Keith is mad about losing...and it says a lot about how much people freak out in this universe in how Yugi can’t tell the difference between when someone loses a game and when someone is possessed and trying to regain control of their mind. The two type of meltdowns really do look strikingly similar.

Even the bird looks like he’s just embarrassed to be here. Especially when this happens.

OH.

This is possible!?

I just assumed all those pieces welded together magically or something. But apparently this is hella possible!

So, possessed Bandit Keith decides to pull “A Mokuba” Which is what I call it, when someone peaces out halfway through the game and just steals stuff so the other person can’t play anymore. Still the ultimate move. Unrivaled in how effective it is. So far one of the only risk-free sure fire ways to beat Yugi Muto (other than threatening to kill yourself, which is option #2)

Does it count as a death if Pharaoh is already dead? Probably not, huh? Anyway, Ryou Bakura snaps out of it, goes back to Ryou, buttons up every single button on his shirt and jacket all the way up to his neck because he’s like way too much of a prude when he’s nice to show off that he’s been running that 5K, and then...decides to do this????

Is this how he’s been working out this whole time??? Has he just been Footloosing it through warehouses in his off hours, how is he so good at this???

Bakura kinda switches back and forth from being nice and being...Bakura. It’s not clear if Ryou is a face Bakura’s wearing just to deceive Yugi, or if Ryou is doing his best to interfere but just can’t interfere with the important stuff like this:

Yugi, reunited with the many pieces of his puzzle, looks at them with this big dumb smile while, at the same time, Bakura hashes out for us, the viewers, a reminder/recap about everything we learned about the history of this puzzle thing from last season.

TBH it’s a fair way to do recap for an entire season. Instead of having it slapped together at the beginning like some boring book report, instead just have it naturally slip in when you actually need to remember all this content. Although, TBH, if you just started watching Season 2 without Season 1, I doubt any of this recap would have helped make any of this make sense. Especially the part where a Pharaoh had Yugi’s hair. That’s just...that’s sort of a stretch, ya?

And Bakura does all of this within 2 feet of Yugi.

I guess we get to go back to Brain Fortress at some point. Have fun with the floor traps, Bakura. Have fun dealing with every corner of Yugi’s mind including the room that is just that really weird huge bowling pin and 50,000 oversized legos.

And then, Bakura just falls off this platform and flat on his ass, which kind of summarizes this guy altogether. Lots of trying so hard to look cool that it ends up going full circle and making him more awkward than just being...chill.

But, once the dust has settled, and the Bakura ancient curse has left the field, Bandit Keith decides he’s not dead and fully wakes up because the jetlag is apparently very real when you’re possessed.

WHAT!?

WHO!?

Just two rando cans of leaky ass gasoline???

Ah, now we’re watching Yugioh.

Yugi, the genius he is, decides he must save the puzzle. But like...why? Pharaoh’s already dead. He’s not going anywhere. But maybe Yugi never attended enough class to learn that most metals don’t melt in a house fire.

I mean this is magic metal so like...probably needs way more than fire to get rid of it. Probably have to toss it straight into space.

Oh man, the big new chain came back to bite him in the ass yet again--and not just this time, but multiple times this episode it keeps coming back to “why the hell did you get such a strong ass chain!?”

This chain is Yugi’s hubris. His Icarus wings.

Busting through the door with their feet, Joey and Tristan come across a whole lot of random things that happen all at the same time and it’s just them saying WTF WTF WTF over and over again until the episode ends.

They assume that Keith was the only one in this building quickly entering the first stage of Hell, but they had a feeling they should just double check, just in case, and their reaction to seeing their best friend here amongst the fire was  “ah damn it, not again.”

Very surprised that Yugi’s hair has held up and has not gone up like a match. Maybe it was hair washing day and so it wasn’t full of grease yet?

Also, it’s nice to think that somewhere, just a few blocks away, Kaiba and Ryou are just having a wonderful day on the soccer field, birds singing, sun shining. A soft breeze in the air.

Meanwhile:

That’s not a joke I made--Yugi really did pass out like this. Which is how this bizarre scene happened:

This show has MOMENTS.

When they realize they should maybe pull the ring out instead of in, they finally got it out.

How did Bandit Keith get it in there in the first place!?

I’m pretty sure I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen someone in an anime carry someone from the front.

Yugi wakes up in a hospital, everyone is covered in anime battle damage (you know how when you get 3rd degree burns they just toss a couple bandaids on your face?), and he has some pretty choice jammies.

The episode ends on a weird note of Tea just getting real dark out of nowhere. OK

Bakura didn’t feel like coming to the hospital? Man. I can never tell with that kid.

Well that was a lot of...fire...right out of the gate, next week, on Yugioh:

Will Pharaoh and Bakura have a wacky Odd Couple situation in the puzzle chamber? Does Yugi change in the tow chain for a series of combination locks? Does Bandit Keith get stranded in Japan without any money, and have to race ducks like he’s in Shenmue?

#yugioh #yugioh recap #photo recap #s2 ep2 #fire #bandit keith #yugi muto #tea gardner #tristan taylor #bakura #like that was a lot of fire for a 2nd episode

[thehardy-boys]

The Maid Tommy Shelby x Reader Request

Hey everyone! It anyones listening... I haven't actually been able to watch season 4 of Peaky Blinders so I just kind of did the story to my best ability. I had a lot of fun writing this though. If you anyone wants a second part to this please let me know.

Request: Working as a maid for Tommy and him slowly falling in love with you

"Come on Charlie, Come on." You soothingly bounced the toddler on your hip while pouring hot water from the china teapot decorated with lavender stalks into a beautiful delicate white china teacup. You placed Charlie on the table you were working on to arrange the plate of biscuits that you were asked to bring out to the study.  You careful picked up the teacup and saucer and held it in your right hand and with your left you careful balanced the plate of biscuits on your forearm. You then carefully very carefully picked up Charlie with your left arm holding him against your hip. You complimented yourself on your fine ability. You slowly started to walk out of the kitchen and into the drawing room, that was cozily decorated for Christmas. A big tree was planted in the corner. You smiled gently remembering helping pick Charlie up to help him put the star on the very top. The fire was burning brightly helping maintain the warmth. Ada and John were sprawled out on the overstuffed armchairs talking loudly and laughing at the littlest things. You walked through and entered the front room. Arthur and Micheal were in a heated discussion over something probably not that important. Both were grasping a cup of whiskey. Lizzie was sitting on the recliner in the corner reading a book contently. You continued to walk through until you were met with the door to the study. You stood for a second a bit stumped at how you were going to knock but soon you realized you had an extra pair of hands. "Charlie, Charlie." You cooed. "Could you knock for me?" You spent the next couple minutes trying in vain to get Charlie to cooperate but the poor little boy didn't know what you were saying to him. You finally gave up and started to knock with your head when the big oak door swung open. Revealing Tommy standing there with an amused smile on his face. "I heard you were having a bit of trouble." He chuckled. "Charlie wasn't cooperating with me." You teased. You entered the big room, happy to find Polly sitting on a couch smoking a cigarette. She looked over at you as you walked closer. "Darling, I don't know how you do it all." You smiled humbly and set the tea down for Tommy and the plate of biscuits most likely for Polly. Tommy came up behind you and gently lifted Charlie from your arms. You watched fondly as Tommy sat down with him talking to him quietly, making him laugh. "Do you need anything else?" You asked politely to the both of them. Tommy looked up from Charlie. "We're fine, why don't you get an early night? You deserve it." "Do you want me to put Charlie to bed?" You offered. "No, it's okay. I'll do it."Tommy responded looking up from his son. "Good night." You said and turned around and headed back through the rooms until you reached the kitchen. You closed the door to gain some privacy from the rest of the Shelby's. You went about preparing yourself some dinner.  You had been Tommy's right handmaid for about three years now, three long years. He had hired you after his wife's death to help run the house. You didn't really mind the job. It wasn't a huge amount of work, it was only really Tommy and Charlie, which was a bit sad. You always glanced up at the painting of Grace Shelby as you passed it in the hall, and she was captivating, remarkably beautiful.  Over the years you had worked for Tommy the two of you started to share a connection a special connection. He would never let any other servant into his study except you. He preferred you to take care of Charlie, he never minded when you sparked up a small chat with him when he wasn't busy and he also never minded you cleaning the room he was in, which he could never stand with any other maid.   You liked that he allowed you to do these things. They were small in some peoples eyes but to Tommy, they were a big step. You had also grown to do certain special things tailored for Tommy. You know the time he comes home so you always put a glass and bottle of his favorite whiskey on his desk. You also decorate the house for him around the holidays which he would never admit but truly loves. When he forgets presents for his family you always buy and wrap some for him. And if he's had a really bad day then you run a bath for him. You sigh gratefully as you sit down in the chair at the kitchen table with your sandwich and cup of tea. You reach across the table and grab your book and begin to read. After a couple minutes, you hear a few attempts at someone trying to open the door. You reluctantly get up from your comfortable seat and go open the door, only to find little Charlie staring up at you with a smile on his small little face. "Whacha ya' doin here little one?" You asked picking him up. You closed the door with your hip and plodded on over to the cabinet rustling around for a box of biscuits. When you found them Charlie made a noise of happiness. You chuckled. "Just like your dad, aren't you? He loves these as well." You go over to your chair and sit down pretzel style and place Charlie on your lap and give him a couple of biscuits while you continued eating.  You both fell into a nice quiet silence, Charlie eating his biscuit and you eating your dinner while sipping your tea.  Soon Charlie fell asleep leaning against your chest and you continued reading your book in peace. A little while later you were brought out of your content little world when you heard a chuckle. You immediately looked up. Tommy was leaning against the door frame with a genuine smile on his face. "He really does like you." You blushed a little under the watchful eye of Tommy. You glanced down at Charlie and smiled. "Do you need anything, Mr. Shelby?" You said looking up at the man. "I just wanted to see where my son went running off to. I was going to put him to bed now everyones left." You immediately leaped up holding onto Charlie. "I'm really sorry Mr. Shelby! I didn't know they were going so soon, I would have gotten there jackets!" You looked at him apologetically. "Don't worry. I had a hunch you were with Charlie, I didn't want to disturb you." "That's very kind of you, Mr. Shelby. I'll go collect all the dishes."  You walked towards the door, stopping to give Tommy Charlie so he could put him to bed. "Good night Mr. Shelby, good night Charlie!" You called over your shoulder as you started tidying up. You were peacefully sleeping in your room on the third floor which was the same floor as Tommy and Charlie. Tommy had insisted on it for the sake that Charlie like you best. You were awoken from your slumber by a loud wailing. You slipped on a light robe over your thing night dress and walked slowly towards Charlies room. "Charlie, Charlie." You softly sang as you sat down with him in your arms. You slowly rocked him on your lap. You thought for a moment and then began to softly chant a few lines of a poem. "In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan; Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak mid-winter Long ago." You repeated those few lines a few more times and eventually, Charlie was fast asleep. After you had laid Charlie in his bed you turned around and let out a yelp at the sight of a figure in the door. "God! Mr. Shelby, you scared me." You tried very hard not to look at his bare, perfectly sculpted chest. "Where did you hear that poem?" He asked quietly. You gestured to Charlie sleeping and walked out into the hallway that was dimly lit. "I was a nurse in the war. I heard the poem said by a soldier before he died. So whenever a soldier was close to death and had no comfort I tried to bring it to them with soothing words. Why?" You answered in a whisper. He looked a bit surprised, which you didn't see quite often. "I didn't know you were in the war." "There are a lot of things you don't know about me." Before you registered what was happening Tommy had brushed a few loose strands of hair that were covering your face. "I like your hair down and a bit messy." He whispered. "I like your hair a bit messy too." You said while reaching up and brushing his bangs aside. "Good night, Mr. Shelby." The next couple weeks were calm and unchangeable Tommy went out to work early in the morning and came back late as usual. On one particular wintery day, Charlie had drawn a picture of Tommy that was quite endearing.   "You want me to show this to dad?" You asked as you stroked Charlie'shair as he was about to fall off to sleep. He nodded and whispered a sleepy, "Yes, please." You smiled and kissed his forehead feeling bad for the little boy, growing up with no mother, and having a sweet but distant father. You loved this time of night. When the house was still. The few cooks Tommy hired were cleaning the kitchen. The other two maids were cleaning the upper two floors, leaving you the ground floor.   You hummed a quiet tune as you dustied around and cleaned up things that were left around. You had just started to dust the study when you heard the door open behind you. You looked around and saw a very tired looking Tommy. He gave you a solemn nod and sat down on the couch with a sigh. You queitly coutinued your tidying taking care to be extra quiet You could sense Tommy's tiredness. As you finished up you made your way towards the door, and said a quiet "Good night Mr. Shelby." But just before you left you heard him mumble a few words. You turned around to make sure you werent hearing things and you watched as Tommy gestured for the seat across from him. "Please, sit." You hesitated for a moment but you gave in and went to sit down on the carefully polished leather couch. "I'm tired," Tommy said suddenly letting out a stream of smoke. You looked up from fiddling with your hands in surprise, Tommy had never expressed his emotions to you before. "Me too," you responded quietly. You stared at eachother for a long time. "Where are you from?" Tommy asked. "London." You said simply. "You're smart, why did you end up as a maid?" He said in his deep monotone voice. "I was in school until the war came and they needed nurses, so I stopped doin math and started stitching up soldiers instead. When I got back, I had no experience for anything then a household job." "What was your job before this?" You suddenly found it quite hard to look Tommy in the eye. "I didn't have a job before this." Tommy looked at you with confusion written on his face. "How did you make money?" You glanced away from Tommy and began to inspect the vase that sat on the side table. "I was married. My husband had the job." Tommy suddenly sat forward. "You're married?" He asked. "Was." You whispered looking back at Tommy. Tommy was now the one that found it hard to look you in the eye. "I'm sorry, I understand how it feels." "I wish you didn't" And with those last few words you stood up and remembering Charlies drawing you took it from your apron pocket and unfolded it and handed it to Tommy. You walked out of the study. Only to stop when you heard his voice, "Tommy," You turned around, "Sorry?" You asked in confusion. "Please, call me Tommy."

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders season 4 #Tom Hardy #Alfie Solomons #TV show #polly shelby #Helen McCrory

[rachelldraws]

11 Questions

Thanks @lifethe-universe-andeverything. These are great questions!

I know this took me forever to do; I really had to think about some of these!

The rules are:

-post the rules

-answer the questions given to you by the tagger

- write eleven questions of your own

-tag eleven people

1. What’s your favorite thing you did in 2017?

Honestly there’s quite a few things but a lot of them are kind of hard to explain, internal things; 2017 was a year with a lot of personal growth for me. 

A few things I can definitively say are traveling to Scotland and England; it was the first time I had ever traveled outside my country and an indescribably amazing experience. I also started doing yoga regularly in 2017 and I love it so much!

2. What sound is your alarm clock set to and how many times do you hit snooze before actually getting up?

It depends on how important it is for me to get up at a certain time and whether or not I trust myself to actually get up that particular morning. I’m definitely a 15-alarms-in-a-row-at-10-minute-intervals kind of person and I snooze at least half of them before actually getting up. If I seriously need to get up for something like an early class, I frequently set my alarm to something really loud involving bagpipes from Outlander lol. If I’m just trying to get up before 9:30am on a Sunday I set it to something nice and chill.

3. When reading hardcover books, do you leave the dust jacket on or take it off?

I’ve never really thought about taking the dust jacket off; I always leave it on. I do always like to look under the jacket though, there’s often cool embossing or illustrations on the hard cover, like with Holly Black’s new book The Cruel Prince. So pretty!

4. If you cook/bake, what’s your favorite thing to make? If you don’t, what’s a recipe you’d like to learn?

I’ve never been very good at cooking; I have about 6 recipes I make in rotation that usually just involve some combination of opening cans or other food packages and assembling it in a bowl/pan/etc. I usually make things like pasta, mashed potatoes, enchiladas, tacos. I have been cooking a lot more recently though because I’m slowly phasing out dairy from my diet. But if a recipe has more than 10 steps I don’t even attempt it.

5. Which fictional character has most influenced your personality?

I don’t know if I ever consciously tried to emulate any fictional characters, but if I had to guess I would say Hermione Granger probably influenced me to embrace my intelligence and bookish-ness. And it may have already been too late for me given that I asked my parents for “kid coffee” when I was 5 (which was really just milk with a splash of coffee in it), but I think Lorelai Gilmore sealed the deal on my coffee obsession.

6. What’s your favorite keepsake?

I’ve collected lots of little things throughout my life; tickets, cards, old notes, etc. But probably my favorite right now is the dried heather and thistle I brought back from Scotland and framed. 

7. What underappreciated book/movie/tv show do you wish more people knew about?

Literally anything by Holly Black. I first fell in love with her Modern Faerie Tales series when I was 11 (which I should not have been reading that young), and Tithe is still my favorite book to this day. My paperback copy has been read dozens of times, dogeared, signed, and had the cover glued back on after it started peeling off. Some of her other amazing books are The Spiderwick Chronicles, The Darkest Part of the Forest, The Coldest Girl in Coldtown, and her newest book, The Cruel Prince. She writes dark fantasy YA fiction, and her work is some of the most evocative, detailed, and beautifully haunting writing I’ve ever read. 

8. What’s something funny you did as a kid?

I got in trouble in 5th grade for calling someone a man-whore, does that count? (I picked up the word from my 14 year old sister)

9. What’s your favorite type of candy?

Without a doubt dark chocolate. Dark chocolate Raisinets are the beeeeest.

10. What’s the farthest you’ve ever been from home?

The UK. Before that the farthest I had ever been from Texas was Hawaii. I hope to do a lot more traveling in the future though!

11. Do you read multiple books at once or just one at a time?

I tend to read my books in binge sessions so it’s not really possible to read more than one at a time. 

My questions:

1. If money was no object, what would you most like to do with your life?

2. Forest or ocean?

3. Do you prefer to read physical books, e-books, or listen to audio books?

4. Do you have a large friend group, or a couple of very close friends?

5. Do you believe in astrology?

6. Who was your first love? (Fictional or real)

7. Where would you most like to travel?

8. Do you remember your dreams? Are they weird, cool, scary?

9. Did you enjoy your time in high school?

10. What inspires you the most?

11. Do you like going out or staying home?

I’ll tag @xxcookiecrumbsxx @samagick @malekeleke @outlanderedandoverhere @bonnie-wee-swordsman @lenny9987 @art-by-khuggs @kalendraashtar @mybeautifuldecay @ecampbellsoup @brandeewine

if you’d like to do it!

#about me #personal #questions #tag game

[cutegirlmayra]

I just thought of something, akko is practicing her transforming magic but gets stuck as a cute bunny and is found by andrew Only condition, the fluff level: "it's so fluffy i'm gonna die!!"

(x)

“You can d-do it, Miss Akko!”

“Thank you! Sensei! Emmm…” Akko looked behind her shoulder, growing confident as she held her wand out in front of her.

Professor Ursula smiled as she saw her working hard to concentrate.

‘She doesn’t even realize…’ she thought to herself, ‘That she’s being trained by the one person she wants to be like… but…’ she looked down, growing melancholy.

Her glasses shined white, ‘I want her to be better than me…’

“AHH!!”

She gasped as she looked up, seeing Akko’s wand blitz out and she transformed into a full white bunny.

She blinked her eyes.

“Ah! Ba-ba-pu!” she mumbled, not able to speak English. “Ack!” she covered her mouth, looking horrified she couldn’t say anything.

“Em. Very good, Akko!” she clapped her hands. “Now, try and speak rabbit.” she swished some magic out and a brown rabbit appeared, kicking to scratch behind it’s ear and then ruffling it’s head out, blinking.

Akko gave it an open-grin, and hopped towards it. “Apu, apu, apu. Ba-ba-chee!!”

She waved, but the rabbit’s eyes suddenly turned hostile, and it whammed her multiple times with it’s feet, and then hopped away.

She had swirls in her eyes as she fell, kicking her leg out.

“Oh my…” Ursula placed a hand over her mouth. “Well, we’ll count that as a solid B. at least you got the metamorphosis down right.” she had a sweat drop on the side of her face, knowing that the wand was equipped with a toddler’s handicap.

‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.’ she thought to herself, ‘after all, I just couldn’t stand seeing her look so down anymore!’

Akko waved her arms around, glad she had at least succeeded, before flinging her wand on accident…

“Ahh!!! Bu-ba-bu!!!” she ran after it, but the wand’s handicap broke.

“Ack!” Ursula turned white in fright, then sweat profusely. “C-…Can she change back without the handicap now..?” she looked worried.

Akko picked the wand up, and waved it around, trying to say a spell but her broken bunny language just had her disappear.

“Ah…” Ursula looked around, zipping to and fro,… before… “AHH!!! I’ve lost her!!” she threw her hands up to her head and started racing around. “I must find her! I must find her!!” she jumped on her broom and took off. “Akko!!!”

Blinking her eyes open, Akko looked around and found she was in some kind of rich person’s guardian.

“Ack!”

“Ah! A varmint!” A butler, tending the garden, looked up and glared at her, lifting his sharp pitchfork up. “I’ll teach you to eat the master’s vegetables!”

In great panic, she ran as the chase began. Ducking under rose bushes and being found under plant pots, until she finally hopped so far that she wiggled herself into a window, and panted once on a counter.

She sighed, before feel hands around her waist and being lifted up.

‘Ahh!! No way!’ she looked up.

“H-hey! Look, Andrew! I caught a wild white bunny!” Frank laughed, holding her up and lifting her up and down, as she felt dizzy.

“It’s it cute?”

“It could have rabies.”

“Oh come on.” he held it up by his face. “You know you want to hold her~”

She blushed as she looked up at Akko.

He stared at her…

“I’d rather eat it for supper.” he looked back at his book, leaning his cheek against his fist to keep his head upright.

She jolted as her face went limp and she let everything drop forward.

“Ohh… so cruel.” Frank pulled her back, frowning.

The butler came in suddenly, “I’ll find that rabbit! I’ll find it even if I have to search the whole courtyard!” he huffed and puffed, as Frank looked worried, and put the rabbit down by the window, trying to shove it’s butt through.

“Get out while you still can, little guy!”

‘Ack!’ Akko felt so awkward, not being able to fit at first before spinning around and gripping his hand, shaking her head.

“Oh? You don’t wanna go back out?” Frank held her in his hands, “Hey, I think she likes me!”

“Hmph. A regular Snow White.” Andrew nonchalantly commented and flipped the book’s page.

He wiggled a finger over her head, as she tried to fight him off but he just lifted the finger as she swat at him.

“Haha! So cute! Come on, Andrew. You can’t let that mean old butler hurt this little cutie, can you?”

He leaned up with big puppy dog eyes, putting Akko right by his cheek as she blinked in confusion, not sure what was going on.

Andrew looked up, and sighed, closing the book. “I heard your father calling you. Shouldn’t you be going?”

“Ohh… Uhh… here!” he jumped from foot to foot, before letting Akko be tossed into his arms.

“Augh!?” Andrew looked own at his lap, seeing her land there and looked up as if scared.

His eyes twitched, as he suddenly seemed to look up and see the butler coming.

“Don’t let him hurt her! Please!” Frank grabbed his coat and waved from the door frame. “She’s too cute to eat too! So none of that, now. See ya!” he raced off.

Andrew sighed, as the Butler came in.

“Master Andrew,” he bowed politely, “Forgive my intrusion, but did you happen to see a white rabbit by any chance?” he blinked in eagerness.

Andrew looked down, seeing her tearing up, before he pulled the book down over her, pretending he was reading and keeping her out of sight.

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Marcus? You can’t allowing creatures into the manor are you?”

The butler flinched, “Oh no, sir! Never!”

“Good. I’m heading to my room then.”

“Y-yes, sir. G-good day, sir!” With more determination, the butler’s eyes shone with fire, and he took off holding the pitchfork upright and over his head, charging to try and locate it as soon as possible.

Andrew lifted her up and placed her inside his coat, walking up and keeping the book over her, ducking his head down and closing his eyes, looking calm.

She blushed at the warmth that came within his jacket, but squirmed a bit too, ‘Can’t… breathe!’

He turned a corner and opened the door, closing it behind him as he sighed and let her out.

“Come on, then. Get down.”

She looked up at him, as he gestured with his head for her to jump, and she hopped down.

She turned around, smiling on her two legs. ‘He’s not as bad as he comes off to be.’ she smiled.

He pulled out a carrot and tossed it to her, before patting her head and walking to the window, sighing.

She happily jumped for the carrot, playing with it before nibbling on it, and then looking shocked at her actions and pulling away.

‘Noo~!!! Must… resist… urge … to be a bunny!’ she shook her head with her paws up on it, before looking over to Andrew.

He seemed to be reading again, and she looked curiously up to him.

‘….Does all he ever do is read books?’ she tilted her head, and raced to him.

Ursula, using a spell to locate Akko, noticed her batteries were running low on it, and seemed concerned.

‘I can’t let her fiend for herself out in the dreary world!’ she threw forth a finder beacon and followed it.

Out the window, she looked around before peeking through, and then panicked when she saw Andrew and Akko as a white rabbit, and turned to peek in and spy on the two.

“…What do you want?” he stared down at her, seeing her smiling and just jumping up to him on the window’s long seat embedded into the windowsill.

She nodded her head a thank you, before jumping up on his chest, making him lean back.

“O-oui!”

She giggled, and then tried to get him to play with her.

‘No one deserves to be cooped up here without a friend!’ she chimed in her heart.

The next scene had the window click open….

And Andrew holding the bunny out of it.

“WHHAAA!!!” Akko cried out, flailing around.

‘What the heck is wrong with this guy!!?! I was being cute! I was trying to help! Doesn’t he want a friend!?’

“I only saved your life for Frank’s sake. Don’t think you can get away anything now.” he pulled her back inside just as Ursula tried to reach out and grab her, but quickly retreated back behind the side of the window.

‘Darn it! So close!’ she pouted.

The rest of the day, Akko tried to get him to do something other than read, even pulling out a fake sword and pretending to duel it, but he just thought her a strange rabbit. She tried to pull on his pant leg’s to get him to play outside, before finally charging down the hall to get him to race after her.

Once outside, and dodging the persistent butler, the two fell on the nice smelling grass and breathed hard, before he looked to her, and smiled.

“You’re… just trouble.” he then laughed, “And you’re the strangest rabbit I’ve ever met!”

She smiled, seeing him enjoying life, before seeing Ursula gesture for her to come over to her in the rose bushes.

She frowned.

‘Oh… that’s right.’ she looked to Andrew.

Getting up, she hopped over to his cheek, and lightly kissed it.

“Huh?” he turned to her, seeing her smile and then close her eyes, tilting her head.

For a moment, he thought he saw Akko’s eyes, and her usual gesture. “A…Akko?”

She twitched.

‘H..how?’ she shook her head and then took off, freaking out.

“Bu-bu-ba-bu!” she called for Ursula, telling her to get her out of here.

Ursula quickly caught her up and took off, as Andrew ran after her, but only saw Ursula flying away.

“A.. witch?” he blinked his eyes, blushing a moment.

He then glared a bit, “Why are their always witches?!”

“Master Andrew! I think I found it! The white rabbit!”

Andrew turned around.

A poor rabbit had been spotted, before poofing away into a dust of magical smoke.

“OHH!!!” the old man almost had a heart attack, and fell backwards, fainting.

Andrew sweat dropped, and sighed.

“I hate magic.”

(Do you though..? Do you? lol hope you enjoyed it my friend :)

#little witch academia #akkoxandrew #ankko #prompt

[chloecorvid]

For freshman going into art school: the bare bones recommendations

So ya chose to go to an art school... That’s great! 4 years of coffee and easy mac with a tin of paint thinner are in your future, friend! 

But what do you actually need for an art school? Do you need the master set of pastels and oils or do you just need a pencil? Honestly... It depends on the school. 

BUT!! From my own personal experience at the Kansas City Art Institute, I’m going to make a list of things to bring and what not to bring (at least on move in day). 

HERE WE GO!

The dorm.

Every college is different on how their dorms work. Some are communal (like KCAI) some are single room apartments. But these basics should help you know what to buy and what to leave behind 

( NOTE: every college has a different guide on what to bring and what not to bring. Please adhere to your school’s rules to avoid fines.)

YES list--the things you absolutely should bring

-mini fridge (2.5 cubic ft is good, if you share with your roommate you can go bigger)

-microwave; you OR your roommate. no one needs 2 microwaves.

-string lights. for when ya wanna see your desk but your roommate’s asleep.

-small trashcan. bring a pack of trashbags--draw string is the best.

-shower caddy/bag with flip flops. shower shoes are expensive, flip flops work the same. 

-house shoes. for those cold days and walking to the bathroom.

-a small shelf/storage ottoman/storage seat. You want to have space to store your dry foods and textbooks, but you wanna be able to have a seat other than your desk chair. 

-shoe organizer. whether it actually holds your shoes or not, this is great or organizing things. socks, cleaning supplies, hairspray and febreeze are off your desk and out of your closet. 

-door mirror. you can get some pretty good ones for cheap at walmart or target. be sure of your door dimensions first though. 

-2nd phone charger/long phone cable. for charging your phone in bed or at your desk. you never know how far away the outlet will be. 

-fairly new power strip. just to be safe and to plug all your stuff into. 

-body pillow if you don’t like cold walls. 

-a notebook for each class that involves reading or note taking. you might think you can use a binder for all your classes, but easier organization and lighter backpacks are always good. also keep a highlighter and pen with each notebook. it’ll be well worth it, trust me. no one likes losing pens on exam days. 

-at least 2 rolls of quarters (about $20). laundry. it costs $. at KCAI my laundry usually runs at $3.25 because i add a little more drying time. 

-some sort of storage for your desk that isn’t super heavy. I’m currently using both a plastic crate from walmart for books and a cardboard box to keep stuff away from where I work. 

-water filter pitcher. water purity is different everywhere, and even though the water may be clean, a lot of people get sick their first week in a new area just because of the water difference. a filter eases that discomfort just a bit more. 

-folding laundry hamper. I say folding because it’s easier on move in day and it holds more. win win!

-basic cleaning supplies. messes happen. 

-ETHERNET Cable. the wi-fi WILL go out while you’re at school. it’s just going to. so have an ethernet cable the proper length from the plug to your desk for your computer. (Note: ethernet is only best when the wi-fi is out. it connects to main campus computers and that’s dangerous. PLEASE only use when the wi-fi is down.)

___

NO!! list--leave this behind.

-your massive collection of books. I have too many here myself, but you’re not gonna read or use personal reference books as much as you think. Bring only what you use more than once a month. 

-stereo system. no one likes overly noisy neighbors. 

-pots and pans. unless you live in a swanky apartment dorm with a kitchen, you’re never gonna use that stuff. a coffee mug, bowl, and a microwave are as about as 4-star restaurant as you’re gonna get.

-movies in cases/videogames WITH cases. use a cd binder. works the same and saves space. 

-a bunch of fancy clothes. you’ll really only need 2, maybe 3 nice outfits in art school. pack 2 weeks of tops with 1 week of pants. saves space and laundry you have to do if you alternate weeks. coats, jackets, and cardigans are up to your style.

-anything that takes up more floor space than your fridge or ottoman. UNLESS you know for a fact that you’re gonna set up your desk under your bed in a “T” formation, there’s not much room. so consider a floor pouf or a cushion to go behind the ottoman to make a seat with a back.

-a bunch of purses, shoes, or hats. Again, UNLESS you know exactly how the room is laid out it’s hard to figure out space. if you use a purse, 2 maybe 3 is the most you’ll need. shoes are basically this: everyday, everyday #2, shoes for rain/snow, 2 pairs of nicer shoes, and flip flops for the room if you don’t use houseshoes. 

-your vast collection of coffee/tea mugs. I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to pick favorites. at most you’ll use 2-3. I personally only have 1 here and then I have my water bottle. 

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Other than those things, check with your school list when it’s available to you to see what you need and what you don’t. Once you’ve filled the checklist THEN you can start bringing other things like books, pillows, electric kettles, irons, etc.

Every school is different, and KCAI has its own guidelines on what is or isn’t allowed. See what rules you can wiggle around and disguise based on your own needs. (aka not illegal stuff. duh. but like mattress pads and extension cords. 

Now that the dorm is covered, let’s get to actual art stuff! 

The short answer: every school’s different. and KCAI’s freshman/ foundations year is unique compared to other schools’. The reason being is that aside from animation and film, foundation year is like a free sample buffet on what majors there are. We have still lifes, charcoal, woodshop, illustration, writing, sculpture, painting, and individualized work all year. 2nd semester is when classes get more focused but still. it’s kinda crazy but really nice in the long run.

The budget that’s recommended IS a bit um... well... depends on the teacher. I personally had a teacher who liked for us to do a bunch of stuff without fully using our materials or would have assignments where new materials would run out and we’d have to buy more. 

A safe budget for supplies is about $200 per semester. Now, that’s for supplies only. Take into account food and amazon shipping and emergencies for the rest of your $. 

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Stuff you’ll need that they don’t tell you in the beginning of the year

KCAI offers a “FOUNDATION KIT” at the beginning of the year that is about $250 all together. The list they give you is well organized so you can buy stuff on your own to save money. See what you already have or can buy for cheaper prices before you buy the kit. 

Now, again, every teacher is different. Here’s the BASIC list based on mine and other friends’ experiences. 

-glue gun.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. usually comes with foundation kit. I got a nice Superbonder dual temp. gun at Hobby Lobby with a stand. Works great and has a long cord. 

-more hot glue sticks than you thought was possible. sold in the KCAI campus art store. sculpture and cardboard are gonna be big parts in the beginning of the year, but you’ll be thankful later on. be SURE you’re using dual temp. sticks and the proper size for your glue gun. 

-sandpaper/ sandpaper block.   sold in the KCAI campus art store. not too expensive, like $5. the sanders are gonna be busy in woodshop. 

-safety goggles. sold in the KCAI campus art store. wood dust and/chips hurt. just get some simple safety glasses.

-masks. sold in the KCAI campus art store. not too expensive. get a new one every 3 weeks. about 2 needed in total. 

-measuring tape.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. OR go to walmart/home depot for cheaper. mine is a 12 ft self-lock one. it’s pretty good. 

-painter’s tape.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. I think it comes in the foundation kit, but you’re gonna run out. get at walmart for cheaper.

-(not a need but it’s super helpful) trashbag taped to your desk. saves trips to the trashcan and helps your space stay tidier. 

-speedball carver.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. to carve screenprinting rubber stamps when you get into pattern. PERSONALLY I ordered a set of wood whittling tools on amazon that work the same, were cheaper, and work on more than just rubber stamps (pumpkin carving!!) 

-baby wipes. you don’t really NEED these, as sinks exist, but when you work with charcoal and you don’t have enough time between the next drawing or lunch, these help a bunch. 

-push pins.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. teachers recommend the metal ones, I just use the clear plastic ones. less distracting when critiquing. 

-BIG ruler, more of a yard stick.  sold in the KCAI campus art store(?) I think it comes in the foundation kit, but you can always just buy a cheaper metal yard stick or share with a friend. 

-drawing pencils.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. comes with foundation kit. I’m not talking #2 pencil you use all the time, I’m talking 4B and 6H and such. Get a decent set with a sharpener. 

-vine charcoal.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. comes with foundation kit. this charcoal goes away FAST. get an extra box before classes start. 

-white chalk.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. for when your charcoal is just not erasing. 

-X-acto knife.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. comes with foundation kit. the blade is gonna dull down eventually so get an extra for later. 

-box cutter.  sold in the KCAI campus art store. think it comes with the foundation kit. Now, I personally am terrified of box cutters because I over-think injury possibilities, so I just use my x-acto knife (hello dull blades). But unless you’re a scaredy-cat like me, a simple box cutter is needed. 

-cutting mat, self-healing. sold in the KCAI campus art store (I thiiiiink). those weird green mats you see in sewing sections or on artist speed-draws? yeah you’re gonna need one. Big is good, small is fine too. 

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Other stuff depends on the teacher. Trips to Hobby Lobby, Michaels, Blick, Creative Coldsnow (kansas city), or other places for supplies IS gonna happen. If you don’t drive, find friends who are doing supply runs too and carpool. 

Art school is crazy and it’s fun, but it IS college. So keep a weekly schedule, take notes, and do your homework. 

Good luck! 

#kcai #art school #college life #sorry this was later than expected i got sick last night randomly #any other specifics ya wanna know message me