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crackheadgeminibby · 3 years

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better for you

pairing: chris evans x female!black!reader

warnings: age gap, angst, language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this lowkey sucks and is very poorly edited, i’m sorry but on the plus side, i surpassed 400 followers yesterday!! so thank you to those 400+ people🤍🤍

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape of form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. Much less a jealous girlfriend. Not at all. Never had and you thought you never would.

You had practically raised yourself as your parents had always been more preoccupied with their jobs. You loved your parents, you really did, but when your high school counselor told you that you could graduate high school a year and a half early, you took the opportunity to start college immediately and move out of your parents’ house. This drastic change when you were so young made you become extremely independent. Which is why your relationship with Chris worked almost perfectly. You valued your independence, as he did his, and you respected his independence, as he did yours.

As a corporate lawyer that had multiple firms around the country, you traveled a lot, needing to meet with clients. Chris, as an actor, also traveled a lot.

You both trusted the other without a doubt at the beginning of the relationship despite that Chris was, at first, a little wary of being with someone as young as you. As a 24-year-old, he thought that you should be living your life, partying, sleeping with whomever you wanted without being tied down, but you had explained to him that despite your age, those were not the things that you wanted.

You and Chris were truly made for each other, knowing the other more than they knew themselves. You would even dare to call yourselves soulmates.

Which is why you could not fathom why you were in your current situation.

You had left early in the day for California, where you were overseeing the opening and start-up of your newest firm. Chris, on the other hand, had left 3 days ago to go on some trip his publicist had arranged for him. You hadn’t bothered asking what it was about, assuming that it was about ASP. Plus, you didn’t mind it: he had to do what he had to do.

But now, you couldn’t believe yourself.

You were sitting on your hotel bed, in a white and fluffy robe, fresh out of the shower. Your computer was open in front of you, the TV was blaring the news and you had your phone in your hand. It was almost 11pm but you had been doing this for at least 3 hours. All three electronics were talking about the same thing: Are Chris Evans and Lily James dating??

It was a bit your fault that people gave themselves the right to assume things like that, to be honest, since you had been the one to pressure Chris about keeping your relationship secret. You knew that people would talk and judge you for your 15-year age gap. You, personally, didn’t care and neither did Chris but his career was dependent on his public image and you didn’t want to hold him back, especially not at a pivotal moment in his life like right now.

So, you had agreed on telling your families and your very close friends and Chris had convinced you to let him tell his publicist, Megan. God, she fucking hated you. When Chris arranged for you guys to meet, she had called you “a walking, breathing PR disaster”. You had laughed it off calling her funny, but you knew that she was 100% serious. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that she would do something so fucked up at some point.

A bunch of different news outlets were pumping out new stories every 30 minutes, each article a little more detailed than the previous. It was all over the Internet and it seemed to be the only thing that people cared about today.

Considering the 8-hour difference between London and San Francisco, you hadn’t been able to talk to Chris at all since you got to your hotel. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to talk to him. He hadn’t even tried to talk to you. Why was he avoiding you and acting like he had something to hide?

You’re reading the latest Daily Mail article on your computer about how Chris and Lily apparently got to his hotel in the same car when you hear your phone ring on the nightstand. You don’t even bother looking at the caller ID as you reach for your phone, eyes still glued to your computer and answer,

“Hello?”

You hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone before you hear Chris’ tired voice, “Baby, hi.”

You tense up slightly before asking, trying to seem nonchalant, “What’s up?”

“Have you watched the news today?”

You bite your lip, thinking, before replying, lying through your teeth, “No, why? What’s going on?”

Chris sighs again before answering, “Nothing, it’s fine. How was your day?”

You roll your eyes. Was he seriously not going to say anything?

“Fine, but it’s really late and I have to get up early tomorrow so good night.”

You hang up the phone before Chris can answer anything. You throw the phone at the end of your bed, frustrated beyond belief.

You continue to read the Daily Mail article as you hear a message coming in. You don’t bother to get up to pick up your phone as you see the message appear on your computer screen a couple of seconds later.

chris💙, 11:01pm:

Good night baby girl. Good luck tomorrow🤍

You groan loudly at his message. Even when he had pissed you the fuck off, his words still brought butterflies to your stomach.

You disregard his message and finish reading the article. You roll your eyes as you close your computer and get up to put it on the hotel desk. As you’re walking back to bed, you take your phone from the end of the bed and put it on its charger, ready to go to bed.

You’re not sure how you manage to fall asleep that night as your mind swirls with unending thoughts.

When your alarm wakes you up at 6am the next day, you feel groggy, having slept very badly last night. Which was to be expected.

You get up and change while eating a protein bar before heading to the hotel gym: you needed to do something to get your energy up. Once you finish your workout, you head back to your room to get ready for the day.

When you get out of the shower, you open your computer and, having left the Daily Mail website open last night, you see a new article posted 2 minutes ago: Chris Evans and Lily James seen on a date in a London park.You groan loudly, closing your computer as you hear that your cell phone is receiving multiple texts.

You reach for your phone on the hotel desk and your eyes widen as you see your lock screen.

5 missed calls

12 messages

You open your Phone app seeing one call from Chris, two from your best friend, one from your brother and one from your mom.

You open the Messages app as a new message from your brother comes in.

will, 7:31am:

When did you break up with your boyfriend? And why didn’t you tell me?

you, 7:32am:

i didn’t

yet

will, 7:32am:

You know i’m gonna fucking murder him right?

You smile fondly at your brother’s concern, chuckling softly as you type your reply.

you, 7:33am:

as you should(:

You open the rest of your messages, mostly asking the same thing. You didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so, you ignore them until you get to your conversation with Chris.

chris💙, 5:22am:

Hey, I’m sure you’ve seen the articles by now.

I’m so sorry

Call me when you can, please. I really need to talk to you.

You bite your lip as you think about what to answer. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this right before your firm’s opening. Shaking your head, you lock your phone, putting it back on the desk, getting dressed.

As you get back to your hotel room, exhausted from your day, you hear your phone signal an incoming text for the millionth time today.

You sigh loudly: you knew it was Chris texting you again. You had been ignoring his texts all day because you didn’t want to get in a bad mood while you were opening the firm.

You put your purse and work bag on the floor, unlocking your phone. You open the conversation with Chris, scrolling through his messages.

chris💙, 6:15pm:

I’m leaving a bit earlier than I planned, I should be home tomorrow morning.

Are you back in Boston or are you gonna stay in LA?

You sigh, feeling guilty that you had been ignoring his texts all day. You start typing a reply, your finger hovering over the send button for a couple of seconds before clicking on it.

you, 6:17pm:

i’m still in san francisco i’m leaving tomorrow morning

As soon as your message goes through, you see the three dots pop up in the conversation.

chris💙, 6:17pm:

Oh my God, hi. Are you okay?

Can I call you?

You chew on your bottom lip: you really didn’t think he was going to answer that fast.

you, 6:18pm:

i’m about to take a shower then i’m gonna go to bed i’m really tired sorry

chris💙, 6:18pm:

Okay, I’m sorry

Good night

You groan loudly. You really didn’t know why you felt so guilty: he was the one running around with another woman. As you think about this, you realize that you didn’t really know who she was.

You shake your head at yourself as you pull up Google on your phone and look for her. You don’t even realize it but, 20 minutes later, you were now at the oldest post on her Instagram.

You curse at yourself, dropping your phone on your bed, and head to the shower.

You stay under the hot stream of the shower for at least an hour before you finally get out, toweling off.

You order some room service for dinner, settling down in front of a random show playing on the TV. After pushing your food around for half an hour, you sigh loudly, put the tray on the hotel desk and get under the covers before finally falling asleep.

You had not slept very well so you had been in a rush to leave the hotel and catch your flight to LAX in the morning. You were exhausted and hungry when you got to your shared LA home with Chris but there was no food in sight, considering that neither of you had been here in a couple of months.

As it was not too late in the day, you decide to take a nap and order some food after.

When you wake up a few hours later, the sun has already completely set and the house is pitch black. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and take your phone before heading to the living room to order some food.

As you enter the kitchen and are about to head to the living room, you hear a deep voice, “Hey, you’re up.”

Taken by surprise, you throw your phone in the direction of the sound and scream, “Holy shit!”

“Ow… What the fuck?”

You’re breathing heavily, clutching your chest as you turn on the kitchen lights, brightness illuminating the area as you see Chris holding the side of his head.

“Jesus Christ, Chris! You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!”

Chris rubs at his head as he looks towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heartbeat starts to slow down as you roll your eyes.

“What are you even doing here?”

Chris frowns and replies, “Well, you never told me where you were going to be but when I got back to Boston and you weren’t there, I assumed you were coming here.”

You groan silently, crossing your arms over your chest and raising your eyebrows,

“So, London seemed to be very fun.”

Chris shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling, before making eye contact with you, “I didn’t know that’s what the trip was about.”

You chuckle humorlessly, “Really, Chris? Since when do you go on trips, not knowing what they’re about?”

Chris exhales loudly, taking a couple of steps towards you, “I promise that I didn’t know. Megan planned everything and just sent me the info.”

You snort loudly, rolling your eyes. Chris frowns before asking, “What?”

“Megan, Chris? Really? She fucking hates me, of course she would pull a stunt like this.”

Chris frowns again, shaking his head, “What are you talking about? She doesn’t hate you.”

You laugh, this time, actually finding this funny, “Chris, she literally called me a walking disaster.”

Chris struggles to find an answer to that: he knew that Megan used this exact kind of formulation so he couldn’t deny it.

“And you know what? It’s fine. Maybe you really should be dating her instead of me.”

Chris’ face contorts in a mix of hurt and anger, “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, Chris. She’s better for you. She’s actually your age, not a fucking child compared to you. She can give you the things you want from life that I can’t. Maybe it’s better that way.”

“What way?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking at your feet, mumbling, “If we weren’t together.”

Chris scoffs, “You literally have to be kidding me.”

Chris takes large steps, making his way towards you and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve told you before and I will tell you again. I do not give a shit about your age. And I thought you didn’t either. So, what’s the problem here?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously, “Because what if what Megan said is true? I mean… If people find out that we’re dating, the shit talking would never stop. I can’t do that to you.”

Chris sighs, enveloping you in a hug.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters if we’re not together.”

He lets you go, stroking your cheek, “You’re it for me. There is no one better for me than you. And no one is going to take that away from us. Not you. Not Megan. And certainly not my fans. If they love me as much as they say they do, then they’ll respect you.”

You chuckle slightly, “Chris, I don’t know what kind of fantasy you live in, but in real life, that’s not how things go.”

“Okay, but who cares? There’s two people in this relationship, you and me. Not you, me, Megan and my fans.”

You scoff, mumbling, “Yeah, tell Megan that.”

“I will. The same goes for her. I didn’t know she actually meant those things about you and I’ll tell her that she needs to knock that shit off.”

You sigh, nodding slightly, “Okay.”

“And, baby, I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, trying to understand, “I never should have agreed to Megan’s little plan thing. But, most importantly, I should have told you as soon as I knew. It’s just that I kinda owed Lily a favor and she needed this. But it doesn’t erase the fact that I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

You sigh, “I know, it’s okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen when I decided to be with you, and I overreacted a bit so I’m sorry too. I knew it wasn’t true and I should have asked you about it instead of ignoring you. I just… couldn’t let go of the fact that maybe you should be with her.”

Chris shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. And I never will be.”

Chris laughs a bit before continuing, “Sorry, but you’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. Looking back at Chris, you smile warmly before hugging him,

“I love you, Chris. Like, a lot.”

Chris chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I love you too.”

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telehxhtrash · 4 years

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A masterpost on Togashi’s gay subtext and why it’s intentional.

Hi ! After seeing so many posts about Togashi dropping subtext about Killua's possible romantic feelings for Gon, I thought it'd be a good idea to make a sort of "masterpost" with all the subtext that Togashi has included into his work.

I usually see a lot of people trying to say that HxH isn't about romance and that Togashi isn't interested in writing romance into the manga, but when you analyze all the subtext that's been going on the further Gon and Killua's relationship progresses, I think it's incorrect to say that Togashi has never hinted at the possibility of romance in HxH.

This is going to be a long post, enjoy your read!

Also, please note that I will only base this analysis on the manga, so there can be no mistake that "maybe this is just something the anime made gayer" : i want to prove that the subtext is 100% intentional on Togashi's part.

I'd also like to mention, although I will analyze it further after listing the subtext, that Togashi is a VERY smart man. There are always little details in the story and/or foreshadowing that are easily missed at first but when you notice them, it truly makes you understand how much attention and care Togashi puts into his work. There are countless details and symbolism that are analyzed daily through wonderful meta posts, from the main 4′s birthdays and their link to their character or the religious symbolism in Kurapika’s story arc.... Togashi loves to foreshadow and plant little details into his work, so when Togashi plants subtext, I'm sure he 100% knows that he's writing it, and it can't be seen as unintentional.

I'll also link all my references for this post at the end of it, so feel free to read all the additional textposts and content if you want to know more.

Well, let's get into it!

EDIT : i can’t believe this post is still being used as a reference it makes me so happy... thank you so much !!! i edited this to tweak it a bit because i wrote this a while ago and the phrasing seemed off to me, so if you’re reading or re-reading this post, hi, welcome to masterpost on gay subtext 2.0 !

GREED ISLAND ARC

Greed Island is to me the arc that lays down the nature of Killua and Gon's relationship. It's during this arc that we get to see a bit more of what Killua thinks, how he's lucky to have met Gon and that he feels really grateful. Gon’s behavior in this arc is also very affectionate, with him always reassuring Killua about his place next to him. While the scene where Killua thinks "You've got it backwards, Gon, I'm the one that's glad I met you." can't be considered as subtext, I think it's something that lets the reader know a bit more about how Killua feels towards Gon.

But other than this scene, which can clearly be dismissed as platonic, there are 2 more moments in the Greed Island arc that are layered in subtext.

• The Rainbow Diamond (chapter 151)

During their time in Dorias, Killua uses Risky Dice to gain cards from the slot machines. The first card that Killua gains is called "Rainbow Diamond", the description of the card being "A diamond that shines in a rainbow of colors. Propose with this diamond and she is guaranteed to say "yes"".

There are 3 different things we can take from this panel. First, the card is a marriage proposal card, so it's obviously romantic in nature. Second, the object is a RAINBOW diamond. And third, Killua, wanting to keep the card safe, gifts it to Gon.

In short, Togashi sat down at his desk, decided to draw Killua winning a MARRIAGE PROPOSAL CARD (it could've been any card, but Togashi CHOSE to make Killua win a marriage proposal card) that has a RAINBOW diamond on it and made Killua gift it to Gon.

While I personally don't think that subtext can be used to 100% ascert that Killua has romantic feelings for Gon, I think it's a funny little touch from Togashi, and I'm even gonna say a sort of hint towards how Killua's feelings for Gon are going to evolve in this arc and the next.

• “It has to be Killua” (chapter 166)

Now this is a scene that I've never seen anyone talk about, at least on Tumblr, but when I read a bit of analysis on it I was 100% convinced this was intentional subtext. I'm basically quoting here what this article explains, so if you want more detail, I recommend reading it.

As you probably recall, during their deadly dodgeball game against Razor, Killua decides to sacrifice his hands to ensure that Gon could use all his strength. When confronted about it, Killua insists that it's nothing, and Gon shocks him by saying that he knew all along that he was hurting himself for his sake.

Gon then says that it can only be Killua holding the ball, and that it has to be Killua, resulting in Killua being absolutely awestruck and embarassed. I'm also going to talk about the anime adaptation for this one, because it's perfectly executed and translates extremely well the nuance that the second sentence bears. If you want to rewatch it, this scene happens in episode 70. It's worth noting that in the anime, we see Killua not reacting to Gon's first sentence, but losing his composure entirely when Gon says the second sentence. But why ?

The reason was lost in translation. His exact words are "Booru wa Killua ga motte-kurenai to. Killua ja nakya dame nan da.". Both sentences basically say the same thing : It has to be Killua holding the ball. That second sentence can be translated literally as "If it's not Killua, that won't do." However, the second sentence, in a different context, can also be used to say a totally different thing.

While it's certain that Gon used this sentence in the context of the dodgeball match, the sentence "~ja nakya dame nan da" also serves as a confession of one's feelings in japanese. It's basically the equivalent to "you're the one for me". When you google the sentence, it turns up romantic songs, forum posts asking what it would translate to in English and posts on how to confess to someone.

The sentence basically drowns in romantic subtext. As mentioned before, Killua has no reaction to the first sentence "Booru wa Killua ga motte-kurenai to.", but loses his composure at the second one, and I think that was a very deliberate thing Togashi wanted to convey : this sentence has an additional layer, and clearly Killua is taking it to heart.

I will come back to this specific subtext in a bit, because we can parallel it with another subtext-y situation, so please keep it in mind for now.

CHIMERA ANT ARC

Now onto the sad gay arc! This arc is so RIDDLED in subtext and parallels that it's making me lose my mind.

• Gon, you are light. (chapter 199)

This scene is just... So romantic in nature. I’m not too objective on this, but I really do believe that this moment is the exact moment Killua fell in love with Gon and started to realize he felt a bit more than friendship towards him. It’s Killua respecting Gon for who he is, realizing that he’s light and he’s always been, he’s the one who saved him and who’s always been so bright and optimistic and always makes the best out of any situation. In this scene, Killua lets himself drown in Gon’s light, allows himself to feel this “wow” moment of pure admiration and love, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

It's extremely important to take the context of this scene into account. What happened is that Killua, who has been struggling mentally for the entire series with the fact that he's always running away, ran away once more, leaving Kite to die with Pitou. This ENTIRE chapter is literally adults absolutely DESTROYING Killua, first Kite's troupe bashing him for leaving Kite behind, and then Netero, Morel and Knov coming in like icing on the cake telling Killua that "After all, he's just a kid", and that he should hurry up to his mommy.

Killua is beating himself up for running away again, got destroyed by Kite's team and 3 extremely strong pro hunters. His morale is down in the drains right now. He expects Gon to be mad at him for betraying Kite, for running away once again, for leaving Kite to die alone and ripping Gon away from Kite : he expects that he'll lose Gon for his cowardice.

HOWEVER, the first thing that Gon says to Killua after having been passed out for god knows how many hours is "Thank you".

Gon woke up and instantly eased up all of Killua's fears : he wasn't a loser for running away, and Gon was actually thankful for him. Gon, at this moment, was the only one that showed kindness, understanding and gratefulness towards Killua. Gon even goes so far as saying that he knows that Kite isn't dead, and that they have to help him. At this instant, Gon is truly Killua's saving grace. He's the one that trusts him with his entire heart, and believes in his choices when even he can't believe in himself. Gon is truly Killua's light at this precise moment, because he was the only one who supported him, trusted him and reassured him in this awful situation.

How can someone shine so bright in such a terrible situation ? How can someone be so positive that nothing bad will happen ?

Gon asserting all of this makes Killua respect him a lot. Keep this word in mind, because it’s going to be important in the next piece of subtext I’m analyzing, because those two scenes canonically follow each other and are basically Togashi highlighting that something special happened when Killua called Gon his light, and that his feelings deepened.

• Introduction to Palm's character (chapter 200)

This piece of subtext is very very easy to miss but it's one of the most important subtext-y scene, because coupled with the “Gon, you are light” scene, it’s very clear that this dialogue is deliberately highlighting Killua’s feelings.

This chapter introduces Palm's character (which, imo, is a character introduced for the sole intent of being a catalyst to Killua's feelings towards Gon, but I'll talk about it in my post talking about the CAA parallels) - edit: i talked about this briefly here.

So, Killua having looked into Gon's eyes for like 10min straight and concluded that Gon was the light of his life a chapter ago, is now chilling with Gon as they meet Palm.

Palm takes them to a café and STRAIGHT OFF THE BAT harasses them about how much she's in love with Knov. Like when I say harassing, it's literally a whole page of her explaining her feelings towards Knov.

There are two interesting things that can be drawn from this interaction.

First, it's extremely easy to draw parallels between Palm's situation towards Knov and Killua's situation towards Gon. Palm starts by saying how amazing her master is, that she probably has special feelings for him but the most important thing is to respect the other person. Remember how I talked about how this last scene was Killua having a surge of deep, deep respect for Gon ? Palm makes sure to highlight that special word, that it’s important to respect someone when it comes to love.

She then goes on to say that she hasn't said anything to Knov, and never will. All of this adds nothing to the story, it's empty dialogue, Togashi could've introduced Palm in virtually any other way possible, but he chose to drag her and the gay duo to a café and make her have a monologue about love RIGHT after the extremely emotional panel of Killua declaring that Gon is his light just a chapter ago.

But there's more. Not only does Palm monologue for a while about love, but after finishing her monologue, this happens :

This panel features ONLY Palm and Killua, her looking at him like the psycho she is, and straight up telling him that "love can suddenly spark out of nowhere, don't you think so?".

What's so interesting about this is the fact that Togashi made the deliberate choice to have Palm say this to Killua and Killua ONLY, which after the gay existential crisis he had last chapter, can very much be applied to his situation. Love DID spark out of nowhere, and Togashi wants you to notice. Togashi could've made Palm say this to herself, with no distinct listener like the last panel, but he made the conscious choice to draw this panel with Palm adressing herself to Killua SPECIFICALLY.

Those two pieces of subtext, that fit perfectly together, make me believe 100% that Togashi knows what he's doing and he's not unintentionally planting gay subtext in his work. The fact that Togashi sat at his desk, drew Killua calling Gon his light, and then followed this scene with the introduction to a character who picks Killua apart to tell him that "love is something that just happens, don't you think?" is 100% proof that Togashi knows what he's doing.

• Date with Palm (chapters 217 and 218)

I think this situation has many layers, but many people still dismiss it as bro behavior so I'm gonna try my best to counter argue. First of all, and although that's not proof of anything, Killua looks EXTREMELY distressed by the prospect of Gon going on a date with Palm, but that can be counter-argued by saying that Killua is just worried because Palm is completely crazy.

What I want to talk about is the scene that happens right after, when Gon and Killua go to the gym (because theyre DUDES YEAH WE WORK OUT NO HOMO), and the conversation casually drifts to Killua asking Gon if he's ever been on a date before, valid question considering what just happened previously. There are multiple things here :

1) Killua seems distressed that Gon has been on dates before. While it can be argued that it's a normal reaction because Gon has and he hasn't, I believe that Killua - who is in no way a normal person who would get flustered about "not having been on dates before a certain age" - would not feel uncomfortable that his friend is more experienced than him - especially when literal seconds later, he monologues about how he doesn’t care about dates and just wants to stick with Gon.

2) Gon then proceeds to ask Killua if he's ever been on a date, to which Killua responds :

What I want to highlight is the panel where Killua says "And the truth is, I want to stay by your side... Always...". Basically, what Killua is saying, is that he doesn't care about dates, all he wants to do is be with Gon.

I don't think this can be counter-argued as bro behavior, but with all the subtext I've explained before, this right here is pretty gay. Togashi put this panel deliberately to show that Killua doesn't give a crap about dates when he can stay with Gon, and with the "gon you are light" scene and everything in mind, this is another intentional subtext.

There's also the fact that Killua stalks the date like a jealous girlfriend - but I'm not gonna count that as subtext because it can be argued that he's just worried about Gon because Palm is insane.

• Gon is my best friend ! (chapter 219)

Remember how I told you to keep the "It has to be Killua" subtext in mind because I was gonna come back to it later ? Well.

During Palm's date with Gon, Killua runs into Rammot, who would definitely have ran into Palm and nenless Gon. Killua is forced to confront his worst fear : this is the moment where he knows that if he runs away again, Gon WILL die. Killua is literally overcoming his "programming", the physical representation of years of abuse out of love and care for Gon. He's ripping out the needle from his forehead out of pure, genuine care for Gon, because if he doesn't, then he'll lose him forever.

Now, what I actually wanna talk about is this panel :

What we see is Killua thinking happy thoughts about all his adventures with Gon because he can't - won't - doesn't want to run away anymore, and all this for his sake. But what I wanna draw attention to is the dodgeball panel that's bigger than all the others, and the only one where you can actually clearly make out what's written : "Killua ja nakya dame nan da".

Now, isn't that interesting that the panel that takes a bigger place in the whole panel is the one with this particular sentence? Remember what I talked about a bit earlier, about how "~ ja nakya dame nan da" is a sentence with a lot of romantic connotations (would pretty much equal to "you're the one for me" in English). Clearly this particular sentence stuck with Killua.

I'm not completely objective on this matter since I firmly believe that at this point, Killua has romantic feelings for Gon, but I interpret this as another deliberate thing Togashi did : putting the panel bigger so we can see that it has a particularly significant importance to Killua, and Killua's state of mind right now (not wanting to lose Gon).

In my opinion, two things happened here: One, Killua remembers this specific interaction because he knows how much Gon trusts him and he doesn't want to betray his trust. But I also firmly believe that Killua remembered this specific interaction because of the romantic connotation the sentence "Killua ja nakya dame nan da" has. Those words clearly shocked him, and I think he remembers them in this life-threatening situation, after the "gon you are light" scene, Palm talking about "love just happens", the "i want to stay with you, always" because he realizes that he wishes Gon would say that sentence in a romantic context, and not in the context of the dodgeball match, thus leading him to surpass himself to prove his love and perhaps live to see the day where Gon could say those words in that romantic context.

Now, of course, all of this is my interpretation, so it's really up to debate, but I really wanna highlight the fact that Togashi deliberately CHOSE to highlight this particular interaction between Gon and Killua, this sentence with romantic subtext, to lead Killua to finally break his chains and be able to be protect Gon fully. It’s also interesting to note that the 2011 anime adaptation also makes it a point to emphasize how deep these words stuck to Killua by making it the last flashback that makes Killua effectively rip out the needle out of his head.

Also let's quickly mention the irony in the situation here : while Gon is on a romantic date, Killua fights to protect him, overcoming his weakness to prove his love. It’s not Palm who deserves that date, it’s Killua.

• A lovers’ suicide (chapter 286)

Now, onto the most important piece of subtext, that can not be counterargued as platonic in any way, shape or form. During the palace invasion, Killua leaves Gon's side, proceeds to go kick Youpi's butt only to have to fall back because he used up all his electricity nen. When Killua is charging up, he meets with Meleoron, and tells him that once he's done charging, he'll go back to Gon's side.

They briefly exchange information about the battle, and then Meleoron proceeds to ask Killua what's the plan for him and Gon. That's when Killua explains that "Once Gon is like this, he won't budge an inch. Worst case scenario, it'll be a double suicide.". At worst they both die, cool. They “go down in flames together”. It’s actually much, much more meaningful than that.

The specific word that Killua uses for double suicide is "心中" (shinjuu), which is a heavily romantically connotated word in japanese. Shinjuu, also translated as "lovers’ suicide", is when two people die out of love, by the same method, because there's a belief that this'll allow those two people to spend eternity together. Shinjuu is a major theme of Japanese literature, and it is always used romantically. It's a very uncommon word to use to refer to two people dying together, because of its heavy romantic connotation, and because it always refers to double suicide committed by people bound by love. In literature, it always refers to two lovers, in love. If you want to read more on shinjuu, i suggest this and this, those articles explain its historic roots and the definition, also emphasizing the feeling of "oneness" that characterizes shinjuu. If you’re interested, I also suggest reading the japanese article that defines shinjuu, and hitting the google translate button, it has some pretty interesting sentences like “Shinjuu is traditionally committed by men and women out of mutual love, in the hope that they will be connected in the afterlife because they can't be together in this world.”

So basically, what Killua is saying is that he wants to go back to Gon's side to die with him, committing a "lovers’ suicide" because he doesn't want to leave Gon to die alone, and wants to die with him.

I also want to emphasize how special this word is to Killua, and that he and everyone around him know the special meaning of this word - In chapter 300, Ikalgo literally says "We were... No, KILLUA was ready to commit shinjuu with Gon". Ikalgo is really highlighting the fact that this word holds special meaning, especially to Killua, and that it was HIM who was willing to commit shinjuu by staying with Gon. Ikalgo and company dying with Gon wouldn't be shinjuu, but Killua dying with Gon would be, and Togashi emphasizes this through Ikalgo's thoughts.

This is pretty much the gist of it, but I suggest reading the wonderful post I linked in the references below if you want to know more about this specific subtext.

(edit : i actually wrote a post going a bit more into detail on Killua’s shinjuu wish if you want to read it here ! :3)

• “The one that Gon needs the most is you” (chapter 294)

I will go into this subtext more in details when I write the post about parallels in CAA, but I still want to talk about it briefly here.

Like I said before, to me, Palm was introduced as a catalyst for Killua's feelings towards Gon. Togashi purposefully wrote Palm as having romantic feelings for Gon to foil Killua's feelings for Gon and make him show jealousy towards Palm.

To Killua, Palm is someone who stole Gon from him, he sees her as a threat because maybe she'll make Gon happier than he does ? (ofc we all know thats not true but Killua is baby) - Basically, Killua thinks Palm might be more important to Gon than Killua is, because he believes they are romantically involved. That's why when he sees her again later on, after Gon rejected his help, leaving Killua helpess as to how to save his dear friend, Killua sees Palm as a saving grace.

He knows that if Gon sees Palm as a chimera ant, he will spiral down even more, so he tries to reason with her to get her to be gentle to Gon, because if not her, then who could? Palm would clearly be able to comfort Gon, with whom Killua believes is romantically involved with, better than him, right ? If Gon rejected Killua, then clearly Palm could help, since she seems closer to Gon (BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THEYRE DATING), right?

This confrontation between Palm and Killua closely ressembles a situation like an ex confronting a new girlfriend - and I think this is exactly why Togashi wrote Palm this way. He wanted Killua to confront who he thought was a threat to their relationship, making him believe that this person who's """"dating"""” Gon is more important to him than himself, only to have her openly admit that she means nothing to Gon. The only one Gon needs is Killua.

And that, my friends, coming from someone you believe is romantically involved with your best friend (who you probably have a crush on), someone you're jealous of, the one you thought was the person most important to him, that's a pretty meaningful statement.

Basically, what's happening, is that Palm reaffirms that Gon holds Killua closer than a potential romantic partner. And that's why Killua is so, so happy to hear that. He was questioning his entire relationship, questioning if Gon even cared about him, because he rejected him a few minutes before, but then his "rival" comes in and reaffirms that even she knows that no one comes close to Killua to Gon.

I also want to mention that this act of pure love (Killua only thinking of saving Gon when in a life threatening situation) is what made Palm come back to her human senses. d'awwwwww

• Illumi and Hisoka’s parallel on lovers who die of Alluka’s requests. (chapter 323)

Now onto the final significant subtext - while I don't particularly think of it as subtext-y, I know a lot of people have so I still want to include it here.

When Illumi explains Alluka's powers to Hisoka, he explains that there are two different types of linked deaths when a request is failed : 1) the person who failed + the person they love the most 2) the person who failed + the people they spent most of their time with.

When applied to Killua, Hisoka naturally comes to the conclusion that no matter the outcome, Gon would always be the one dying with Killua, because he's spent so much time with him, and because he's the one that Killua loves the most. In the panel where Illumi explains this, we see a romantic, heterosexual couple demonstrating the effects of not completing one of Alluka's requests, and thus the "most important person dying".

While not making any true parallels, the fact that Hisoka, and the readers, are drawn to compare a heterosexual, romantic pairing to Killua dying with Gon because he's his "most important person" is an interesting piece of subtext.

_______

I want to finish by talking about Killua's birthday and how significant it is in my opinion. All the main 4 characters have birthdays that fall on specific dates, related to Japanese tradition, and often with events that can be associated to their character. Gon's is 5/5, which is Children's Day. Kurapika's is 4/4, the number 4 being considered an unlucky number, and this being an unlucky day to have a child. Leorio's is 3/3, Hinamatsuri (not really any main parallels here but still). But Killua's birthday is 7/7, and is the Japanese day to celebrate Tanabata.

If you are not familiar with Tanabata, the story is as follows : Orihime is a princess who works for her father, working hard and well, but she laments the fact that because of her hard work she can't meet someone and fall in love. Her father arranges for her to meet Hikoboshi, allowing Orihime to leave because he expects her to come back to work for him, but the two immediately fall in love and get married, and she never returns. I won't get into the rest of the story as it's this part that interests me the most, but if you want to read more about Killua and Tanabata I suggest reading the post I referenced below.

Does the story of Orihime remind you of anyone ? Killua also works for his father, but laments the fact that he can't go outside and meet someone. His father then lets him go, saying, and i quote: "he will come back, because he's my son". Doesn't this remind you of the tale of Tanabata ? Killua's story references the tale of Orihime perfectly, and I believe this is intentional : Killua's birthday isn't of any importance to the plot, so why make it Tanabata, a day that celebrates a love story that closely ressembles Killua's story ? The answer is simple : subtext.

With all this in mind, I think it's pretty clear that Togashi is writing intentional subtext to hint at Killua's feelings being romantic in nature. Togashi is a master writer, he has years of experience, and I strongly believe he knows what he's doing and not planting unintentional subtext. He's a very smart man, and knows how all of this can be interpreted.

I will finish by saying that Togashi is NOT an author that would deliberately queerbait his readers. So many people dismiss the possibility of having gay subtext leading onto an actual canon gay relationship because "it's not like the author would ever have gay main characters". While this holds true for a lot of manga authors, especially shonen manga authors, it does NOT apply to Togashi.

Togashi has always displayed interest in queer subjects and queer representation, putting trans characters in all of his major works (Miyuki in YYH, Mikihisa in Level E and Alluka in HxH). There were also canonically gay characters in his previous works : Itsuki in YYH, and a character named Kuramoto in Level E.

Togashi also always had interest in mangas having BL elements, citing Maya Mineo's "Patalliro!" as a manga he was attracted to during High School. If you're unfamiliar with Patalliro, the story focuses on the main character's love life as a gay man. He also admitted to basing Hiei's (YYH) design off a character from that manga.

Last but not least, Togashi mentioned in a note included in volume 1 of YYH that he wanted to write a sports manga, called The Trouble Quartet, where basically all the characters are gay. Togashi said he based it off his own interests as a writer, and that while it was refused by Shonen Jump, he got deeply attached to the project and that he would love to explore this project in a different shape once he made a name for himself. I suggest reading this post because the parallels between The Trouble Quartet and HxH are HILARIOUSLY accurate.

In short, Togashi has always had interest in queer matters, and was always interested in putting queer representation in his work. After YYH, which was a terrible experience for Togashi as a writer, he managed to snatch a contract that basically allows him to do whatever he wants with HxH. Having always held dear BL matters but never being able to explore it to his full intent, I believe Togashi is exploring queer identity further with HxH, because Shonen Jump basically lets him do anything.

To conclude, with Togashi's past experience and skill, his interest in queer representation, and the amount of subtext surrounding Killua, I honestly believe that Togashi is trying to explore further queer representation, and I wouldn't be surprised if HxH ends with Gon and Killua becoming a canon pairing, whether it be delivered in an ambiguous manner or not.

Edit : I actually wrote a post on why I believe it won’t be ambiguous, and that it’s truly never been ambiguous, just developing : here.

I hope you enjoyed the read, thank you for reading all of this, and feel free to show this to anyone who denies subtext in HxH !

REFERENCES

- "It has to be Killua" - Medium article, "Impossibilities in Translating Queerness : The Dodgeball Dilemma"

- Palm's Date Scene - Reddit post, "Togashi's love of Ambiguity: Chapters 217 and 218"

-A thematic analysis of Palm’s character : ”The Issue With Palm”

- Shinjuu - Tumblr post by hunterxhell, "A lovers' suicide, I guess." : + the post that mentions Ikalgo talking about shinjuu

- An analysis on different subtext-y situations

- Illumi and Hisoka’s parallel : here and here

- Killua’s birthday : "Killua, July 7th, and the significance of his birthdate”

- Togashi's interview mentioning Mineo's Patalliro

#hxh #hxh meta #hunter x hunter #killugon #meta #my posts #my meta

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enchantingzinehairdoweasel · 3 years

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Random Bakusquad Headcanons of Mine:

Types of music they listen to -

Bakugo: Hard rock, metal, alternative rock, and occasionally lo-fi to calm him down (blame Midoriya and his therapist). He pretends to be annoyed by his friends music tastes but he really doesn’t care all that much on road trips. Kirishima: He doesn’t have a particular favorite, to be honest he kind of just vibes to whatever. But he absolutely jams out to “Cool Kids” and “Cooler Than Me”. He definitely had a My Chemical Romance phase in middle school so he’s responsible for “Teenagers” being in the Squads Playlist, which actually made Shinsou genuinely smile when he first joined their squad. Kaminari: Anything dubstep or EDM, this boy is a hardcore dancer and no one can convince me otherwise (I especially love the idea of him being amazing at shuffle). He usually dances around with Mina when he turns one of his playlist on. Sero: He loves Latin music since it helps him stay connected to his heritage, although he loves vibing to whatever his friends listen to as well. The fact that he speaks Spanish makes it hysterical whenever his friends are playing a random Spanish song about sex and they don’t understand it. Ashido: She absolutely loves western music and rap, especially when it’s female rappers because of how aggressively fun she finds the lyrics. She probably listens to Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi B, ppcocaine, Doja Cat, Maliibu Miitch, and a lot more. Catch her dancing and singing along to vulgar songs with Kaminari. Jirou: She loves every type of genre and is capable of picking out something she loves in a song that is absolute garbage, she will appreciate every song out there even if it takes effort. Although she has a soft spot for the song “Somebody I Used to Know” and listens to “Jenny” whenever she thinks about her seemingly one sided crush on Yaoyorozo. Shinsou: Genuinely doesn’t know what he likes the most but he definitely listens to My Chemical Romance and he isn’t sure whether or not he finds it embarrassing. He kind of listens to songs he can vent/relate/lowkey jam to, like “Control” “I Am Not a Robot” “Cool Kids” “Stressed Out” “Parents” etc. If you listen really closely you can sometimes hear him softly humming “Electric Love” while looking over at Kaminari during class (he doesn’t even realize it, as Sero puts it he’s absolutely whipped for that dumbass). Utsushimi: While she isn’t able to hang out with them constantly, she definitely influences their music taste a bit. For some reason she has a strong love for kpop and western music/rap, when it comes to kpop you’ll find her crying literal tears of happiness whenever a Japanese version of a song releases. She probably hardcore vibes to songs like “Body” “Give Her Some Money” “Tia Tamera” “S.L.U.T”while also vibing to “LA DI DA” “Kill This Love” “Hip” “Style” etc.

Shinsou quotes Ghost Stories and everyone both loves and hates it so much, this is one of the reasons why Bakugo doesn’t care that he hangs out with Monoma instead sometimes (they both binged Ghost Stories together so they quote it together). Monoma, from across the cafeteria: WELL SHES EITHER A BITCH OR A GHOST. Shinsou: RUN SHES A GHOST AND A BITCH Bakugo: oh for fucks sake.

Every so often you’ll hear someone go “sheeeeesh” from Bakusquad and no one knows who it is, it infuriates Bakugo to the point where he openly threatens to slam them through a window. Random things you’ll hear them say on a daily basis - Kirishima: that’s not very plus ultra of you. Ashido: RIP THAT PUSSY AYY— Kaminari: gotta go geT SOME DICK TODAY—Shinsou: Well I might as well just die today. Sero: I’m finna act up— Bakugo: I don’t know who the fuck those losers are?? (As he gestures to his squad lighting a barrel on fire)

Surprisingly Sero has the best drip in the squad, Kirishima is pouting in the background with his limited edition crocs.

Kaminari dresses like a stereotypical twink and that is a fact (he got the crop top, shorts, and fishnets once he finally catches a sense of style in second year, thank the fashion police Aoyama and Monoma).

The Wicked Witch of the East argument definitely happened and it was between Bakugo and Sero.

Kirishima absolutely told the squad about how Kaminari basically called Shinsou hot to his face, he was teased for weeks but it was worth it in the end (he has a hot goth boyfriend now).

Kaminari fought to have Shinsou in Bakusquad and just barely won because Ashido mentioned that it was a possible love story in the making, Midoriya and Uraraka gave in because of that.

Although in the end he’s still considered a part of Dekusquad as well, the only two reasons why he hangs out with Bakusquad more is because 1. His boyfriend is in Bakusquad and 2. He’s not allowed to vape/smoke weed when he’s with Dekusquad because Iida won’t let him. He’s also dragged along with Monoma’s squad so he’s constantly being tugged around different groups.

He actually has his own squad but he’ll be six feet under before he admits that (Squad Members: Monoma, Hatsume, Yoarashi, Shishikura, and Utsushimi). If you want to understand that dynamic just watch my “Shinsou & Friends as Tiktoks” compilations lmao.

They all have tiktok, although they also share a group account called “Bakusquad Shenanigans” that records their “best moments”. Their most viewed compilations of each member include: “Denki is a Dumbass”, “Shinsou is an Icon”, “Sero is Mexican Guys”, “Kirishima Being Concerned for Three Minutes”, “‘Kacchan’ Being Whipped For His Boyfriends”, “Why Camie is a Snacc 😩💕✨”, “Mina is Also a Dumbass”, “Jirou Asks the Boys of 3a ‘Girl Questions’”

Sometimes Ashido will burst into her friend dorm rooms when they forget to lock their doors and shouts “HAVING SEX??” She regrets doing this sometimes as she has caught her all friends in the act at least once in fact -

Shinkami: Twice (she cackles whenever she recalls this, Kaminari didn’t really care but Shinsou was mortified the first time it happened)

Todobakudeku: Once (This actually got her to start knocking on those threes’ doors)

Serozaki: Three times (she has apologized profusely each and every time because Shiozaki deserves better, although she could care less about how Sero feels. The best part is they weren’t even doing anything that serious, it was legit just them making out)

She’s an absolute hypocrite because she would be extremely pissed if anyone did this to her and Kirishima

(If you wonder why I ship Sero and Shiozaki it’s very simple: it started off as a crack ship because I love the Stoner! Sero headcanon and I refuse to believe that Shiozaki doesn’t smoke weed as well. Now I see them as a genuinely wholesome and loving couple that are very much supportive of each other)

When they were bored they made a ranking of who’s the hottest (they don’t consider the last person unattractive it’s just that they’re all really attractive):

1. Shinsou - Kaminari is completely biased and the others just agreed with this selection because it’s the right choice (except Bakugo of course)

2. Bakugo - Best believe he was pissed when he got second place, he called his boyfriends and bitched about it (cue Midoriya offering sympathy and sweetly complimenting him while Todoroki cackles in the background)

3. Kaminari - He’s satisfied because he knows for a fact he’s pretty as hell, plus his boyfriend is the winner so suck it guys

4. Jirou - She genuinely didn’t really care what she ranked, since she already knows she’s attractive

5. Ashido - Lowkey salty that she wasn’t higher but understands because damn are all her best friends unfairly hot.

6. Sero - High key salty and bitched about this ranking as soon as he saw the paper, the squad had to give him a group hug and shower him in compliments to make up for it because “damnit yes Sero you’re a hottie too”

Camie wasn’t allowed to enter because her natural beauty is leagues ahead of theirs, they call her a goddess for a reason 💅✨

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aeoncryptic · 3 years

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Arthur's Day Trip

This is Fluff~ Story after the break.

I also just want to put a big thank you out there for those that looked over this, gave me advice, or just put up with me! <3

Word count: This story is 4,667 words long.

Edit: I suppose I should have added before that there is a bonus at the end for Theo torture. <3 (not actual torture just...)

(March 13th, xx; four in the morning; Arthur)

Arthur was possessed. The sun had long since set, yet he sat at his desk writing. The sound of a quill scratching away at paper were the only noises in the barely lit room. Midnight-colored bangs fell to cover his eyes as he sighed, finally setting his writing utensil down. He had fully intended to cease his habit of working through the night once he had asked his lovely girlfriend, (MC), to be his wife. Unfortunately for the exhausted writer, his mind would not grant him the solace of keeping his promise. He raked his tired hands through his hair and turned his sapphire eyes onto his beautiful fiancee. She had been so exhausted from her work in the manor that she collapsed on his bed, stretching her entire body across it. The blankets were in disarray and her red hair was splayed around her as if she had a halo. Leaving his story unfinished for the night, the tired writer climbed into what little bed space there was next to his beloved. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hoping he wouldn’t wake her. His eyes slowly drifted off to sleep.

(March 13th, xx; two hours after noon; Arthur)

The smell of coffee wafted to the author’s nose, causing him to stir. Upon opening his eyes, he was greeted with a smile that rivaled the sun. (MC) set his daily dose of “bitter energy provider”, as she called it, on his desk with a glass of rouge. “Good afternoon, Arthur. I brought your coffee and lunch. You happened to sleep through breakfast.” The red-haired woman glanced at the bookshelf next to his desk. It held resources the writer used for reference, but also held at least an entire shelf of completed manuscripts yet to be published. Arthur knew the expression on her face well. It was one of love and admiration; one he felt he didn’t deserve. Pushing away those dark emotions as they welled up, he carefully got out of bed to give her his full attention. “Arthur, it's a waste for your stories to just sit on your shelf! They’re exhilarating and should be shared!” She tried to appeal to him. “You work so hard day and night to write these, why not try to find a publisher?” With a gentle and encouraging tone, she attempted to persuade her lover.

Ah, the old song and dance. He thought as he allowed his usual playful smile dance across his lips as he stood before her, lifting his hand to gently hold the strands of her long hair and let them slip through his fingers. “Hmm~ Perhaps I’ll consider it. More importantly, won’t you join me for lunch, luv~?” His seductive expression would be enough to convince any woman. However, Arthur knew that she would turn him down as she would most likely be busy with her work. Couldn’t have hurt to ask~.

Though his words made her blush, her emerald eyes glittered playfully as she responded. “Really, Arthur? I have to get back to work.” Her soft lips brushed against his cheeks, as if trying to banish his pout, and then she was out the door. Her movements were swift enough to prevent him from convincing her to stay, which was guaranteed to succeed. The writer chuckled at how adorable his fiancee was. If he had convinced her to stay, he would have felt guilty at having taken her from her responsibilities. The writer quickly shook off those thoughts, lest he spiral back into the unending strings of guilt.

Deciding that he desired his coffee rush, Arthur quickly got dressed and sat before his desk. He picked up his pen and stared at the unfinished manuscript. If I can finish this by the end of today, why, I may just get (MC) all to myself tomorrow~ After all, it is her day off. With that thought alone, he felt a surge of energy. Today he would finish this manuscript and start tomorrow’s story so he could spend the day with his lover.

(March 13th, xx; five in the evening; MC)

Her hair swished with the wind as she finished the last of her chores for the day. Working at a mansion with eleven vampires was tough work when there was only the butler, Sebastian, and herself. Now that spring was here, they had been exceedingly busy. (MC) felt guilty that she wasn’t able to spend as much time with Arthur as she wanted. Taking care of everyone here is my job and it’s important, so I’m sure Arthur understands. Remembering that she is supposed to help the butler with prepping and cooking dinner, she glanced at her pocket watch. An expression of shock spread over her features as she realized the time. Gathering her skirts a bit, the young lady rushed inside.

Upon her entry to the kitchen, she was prepared to receive Sebastian’s signature flick to the forehead as punishment for being late. Luckily, he simply glanced in her direction and gave her a smile. “You’re late. If you finished the work in the garden, why not get started on Sir Isaac’s dinner?” He instructed her as he was finishing up Theo’s and Vincent’s “dinner”. Her nose scrunched up at the pancakes and Theo’s entire bottle of syrup that she knew he would pour on the unsuspecting victims.

“Pancakes again? Theo is going to end up sick.” She giggled, but set to work on Isaac’s sandwich. Isaac preferred sandwiches because it was easier to eat and work, Theodorus preferred pancakes, and Napoleon would sometimes cook his own food. Pleased with her efforts, she gently placed the sandwich on a plate and set different vegetables around it. With dextrous fingers, she placed the meals on the serving cart. Before leaving the kitchen, she made sure to grab not one, but two syrup bottles with the knowledge that Theo would drown his pancakes without mercy. Once everything was set up they headed to the dining room.

Sitting at the table was the usual crowd, but she was surprised to see her lover amongst the group since he was working on his manuscript. She had expected that Arthur would still be hard at work. As she placed the prepared plates on the table along with the two syrup bottles, she gave Theo a playful smile. “Here you are Theo, your syrup with a side of pancakes.”

Theo’s usual cocky smirk disappeared from his face to display a scowl. “Despite what you seem to believe, I do eat other foods besides pancakes, hondje.” Vincent and the housekeeper watched as Theo poured more than a normal amount of syrup on his cakes as usual.

Vincent, reaching for his own bottle, poured a little amount on his. “But Theo, pancakes are your favorite meal and that is your fourth bottle of syrup this week.” Sebastian, overhearing this conversation, bemoans the lack of chances to shop this week and makes note that they will need more syrup. Seeing Theo being called out by his own brother caused her to cover her mouth to hide her giggles. Theo turned to Vincent wide eyed. “Are you taking the knabbeltje’s side, Broer?” The brunette pouts at his older brother.

The older paused and seemed to think for a moment, “Sebastian has been making you pancakes for almost every meal this week. Maybe (MC) has an idea of a meal you would like.” He offered his brother his winning angelic smile. Theo merely grumbled in response and began to eat his pancakes. Seeing her chance, she decided to appeal to Vincent. He was her key to convincing Theo to at least give her idea a try. “Actually Vincent, there is a 21st century recipe for pancakes that I have been wanting Theo to try. I just know how much you love Sebastian’s pancakes, so I didn’t want to force it on you.”

She lowered her head and looked away, which sealed the deal as she heard Vincent say, “I’m sure Theo would be happy to try them, especially since you said you wanted him to try them.” Realizing his fate was sealed and the overhanging possibility of him trying a healthier option of pancake caused Theo to choke on his breakfast. Clearing his throat, he wiped his mouth and sent a strained smile to his brother. “Sure, Broer, even a hondje can’t mess up something as simple as a pancake.” She grinned at her feat, already planning the ingredients she would need. She turned her attention back to her work.

(March 13th, six in the evening; Arthur)

Her attempts to get Theo to at least attempt to eat healthier, despite the lack of need for food, had not gone unnoticed. Vincent was happy that she worried for them, but it was unnecessary. Though, her mischief towards Theo and his beloved pancakes was always a sight to behold. It always amused the writer. Arthur, having been a spectator for this specific trial, was quite pleased with his fiancee; She had managed to place Theo in a checkmate position.

Catching Sebas taking notes for groceries gave Arthur an idea that he was mulling over as his lover took her seat beside him. He gave her a smile that rang of his pride for her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he drew her slightly closer to place a kiss to her temple. “You’re a clever bird~” He whispered into her ear. She grinned at him, while Theo merely glowered.

(March 14th, six in the morning; MC)

The sunlight started to trickle past the slightly parted curtains, blessing the room with light from the sunrise. The red haired lady glanced at the empty spot next to her, saddened to find he wasn’t resting there. She turned her emerald eyes upon his desk, only to find it missing its owner as well. Concern began to creep in through her fingertips and slowly spread throughout her body, making her cold under the warm blankets. Perhaps he went to get coffee? His side of the bed looked untouched, as if the writer had never even entered the bed. She quickly sat up, the press of her feet to the cold floor sending a shiver through her. Running a hand through her hair to calm herself, she used her free one to open the dressing room.

Once she was dressed, the red-haired lady quickly stalked down the deserted hallways towards the kitchen. She was late to help with the chores, but she was more worried about her lover. Had he just gone to get coffee as she had thought earlier? Perhaps he needed fresh air and went for a walk? Her steps were light upon the floor, making barely a sound. Once she reached the kitchen door, she had managed to calm her fears. She slowly opened the door only to find the very man where she had guessed he would be. Drinking his “bitter energy provider.” Flashing a gentle smile at the sapphire eyed man, she walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Arthur!”

He gave her a lazy grin, his eyes already looking tired, but there was something playful there in his expression. “Good morning, luv~” He sang in his usual flirtatious tone and set his coffee aside in order to give her a tight hug. “Comte dragged Sebas out early this morning and asked that you do the shopping for the day.” The author was pouting as he placed a kiss to her temple. “While I am desperate to have your attention all to myself, I was wondering if I could accompany you~?”

The look she gave him at that question was one of disbelief. “Don’t you have to finish a manuscript?” She eyed him, knowing all of his tricks. In response, he gave her the puppy dog eyes; she had to look away, or else he would win their little game too easily. With a huff, she wiggled out of his arms and picked up the note left to her by the dark haired butler.

“Dear MC,

I have been asked by le Comte to accompany him on some business outside of Paris and will be gone for the day. Along with the usual chores, I have left a list of items that need to be picked up in town.

I can come in many shades and often made from unconventional materials and I am used in strokes.

I am desirable and appealing to some, due to my false sense of calm. My life started with a spark and then goes up in cinder and smoke.

I often end up in sticky situations and don’t come from bees, but I can be found at breakfast and cannot be spread freely.

Dark as sin and a pain to wash out, I am often used to send someone’s thoughts. Without me, people cannot read.

When I am well worn, I have a crack in my spine. I often have dog ears when I am done. I can be heavy or lean, but left alone I can gather dust.

Be sure that this list is completed by the end of the afternoon. I know you need to go to town to pick up your ingredients as well for your 'pancakes'.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, wondering what could have possessed the butler to leave such a puzzle for her to solve. These riddles couldn’t be too hard, right? As she was trying to relate each sentence to an item that one of the residents could need, her lover snaked his arm around her waist and laid his head on her shoulder to look at the letter. “Ah~ A fun little game.” His free hand slid along her arm, taking the letter from her hands to read it better. Glancing up, she puffed her cheeks out at him. “Get your coat, luv. We are going to town.” Folding the letter neatly, he put it in his pocket.

His fiancee’s expression left nothing to the imagination. “Don’t you have to work?” She asked, obviously worried that she would, once again, distract him from his manuscripts. However, a selfish part of her brain told her she wanted him to go with her. And, with great effort, she crushed that part. He needs to continue his work! I can’t get in his way!

Arthur chuckled, “As it so happens, I seem to be having a bout of ‘Writer’s block’. Going for a walk may help clear my mind~” He kissed her head, spun her around, and gently pushed her towards the door. “Now, go doll yourself up. We’ll have lunch out after we do our little shopping; I’m sure you’ll be starved. Meet me in the foyer at eight~” She beamed, her cheeks turning a slight pink shade, and left the room with renewed excitement. Though, in her mind, she knew he was only pretending to have writer’s block so that he could spend time with her.

(March 14, eight in the morning; MC)

She ran the brush through her beautiful, wavy red hair one last time. Nervousness was the prevailing emotion over her excitement. Since it had been so long since she and Arthur had last been out together, she wanted to look her best. She let out a deep breath to calm her nerves and set her brush upon her vanity. Shaky hands grabbed at her skirts as she looked in the full length mirror and twirled. The skirt billowed out around her, looking for all their part petals to a beautiful flower. The dress she had chosen was a blue-grey that matched her lovers’ usual attire. She beamed at the woman in the mirror; Perfect! I hope Arthur likes it! Once she was content with her appearance, she rushed out of her room to meet her fiance.

The look of delight and the light that brightened his eyes as she descended the stairs finally waved away her nerves. His gaze took in all of her, following her from the very top of the steps to the very last. “My~! Don’t you look gorgeous, my dove~!” He held out his arm to her to escort her to the carriage. She put her hand on his arm, willing to walk anywhere this man demanded.

Now that they had reached town, Arthur pulled the letter out and unfolded it. She had a hard time keeping pace with him as he was concentrating, his long strides requiring her to almost jog beside him. “Now, where to begin.” At the very least, her lover seemed to be taking this seriously. “‘I come in many shades’ could be just about anything. What really narrows it down is that it mentions ‘strokes’ and ‘unconventional materials’. Now, my dear Watson, who in the mansion uses something that has to do with strokes?” His tone of voice told her that she should know this answer. She paused her steps for a moment, causing him to stop as well.

Memories of her talks with the residents began running through her mind. Just as she was about to give up, she remembered a conversation she’d had with Theo. They’d been looking at one of Vincent’s paintings! Theo had been describing the particular style of his brother’s art. “Vincent! His paints! Vincent mentioned needing more paints just the other day!” She exclaimed excitedly, clasping her hands together, her eyes bright.

She knew she’d said the right thing when he gave her a radiant smile. “Brilliant, luv~! You make a wonderful partner.” A gloved hand caressed her cheek in a moment of affection. Pulling a pen out of his pocket, he scribbled “Paints for Vincent” next to the first puzzle. “The hints for the second riddle is… ‘desirable and appealing’ and ‘starts with a spark and goes up in smoke’.” He glanced at her, to which she already wore a smile.

“That HAS to be cigarillos for Leonardo. They’re known to have an addictive substance and due to the tobacco, give a sense of calm, right? Also, it starts in a spark because it needs to be lit. As its ‘life ends’ it ‘goes up in smoke’.” She grinned at Arthur, knowing she was right this time as well.

He nodded his affirmation, writing down “cigarillos for Leo”. Arthur quickly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to himself as a carriage whooshed past them both. While it would have missed her, he was glad to have had a reason to hold her close to him. “Perhaps we should take a seat to finish the rest?” To this she gave him an amused smile, shaking her head in playful exasperation. His gloved hand grasped hers and began tugging her towards a bench. His hand felt warm in hers, but oh how she wished he weren’t wearing gloves.

Once they were seated at the bench, him having her sit so close to him that she was practically in his lap, he held the letter between them. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying them much mind, her face almost a scarlet hue. He had his arm around her waist and was leaning close to her in order to allow them both to look at the letter easier. “This one is for Theo. The bees usually means honey, but since it's sticky and not from bees, it has to be because we ran out of syrup.” After she finished her explanation, Arthur turned to face her, their noses almost touching.

“Brilliant! You could be a detective yourself.” He winked at her and removed his arm, writing down “Syrup for Theo”. She felt slightly colder after he had pulled away, already missing his warmth. But she shook this feeling off. “Any ideas for this one?” His finger was indicating the fourth riddle. He recited, “‘Dark as sin and a pain to wash out’…”

“Oh! Ink! Speaking of which, Arthur, did you write this morning?” As he had pointed at the paper, the sleeve of his white shirt poked out from under his jacket. It displayed blue ink marks on the cuffs, which stood out against the bright white. She started inspecting his sleeve with a frown; ink certainly was a pain to get out and now she was going to have to spend a lot of time cleaning this shirt.

“Ah. Sorry, poppet. I attempted to write a bit this morning and forgot to roll up my sleeves.” His tone was certainly apologetic, no doubt worried about his lover having to spend her time trying to clean his many ink stained shirts. He wrote down “Ink for Arthur and Mozart”. “Last one and then we buy all the items. Then I treat you to lunch.” His eyes skimmed the very last part of the list. "'When I am well worn, I have a crack in my spine. Heavy or lean and gathers dust’.”

“A book?” She glanced at him, worried that she was wrong. The problem being that if it were a book, who would it be for? There was no title written down or any information. Just the riddle.

“I did happen to ask Sebas for a reference book the other day, perhaps that is what he meant. If not, we may have to come back into town!” They both set off together to purchase the answers and the ingredients for her special “pancakes." After they had their bags together, Arthur whisked her away to enjoy a lunch together.

As they were enjoying their food she decided to put to word what had been on her mind earlier that day. She set her fork upon her plate and turned to face Arthur. “You don’t really have writer’s block, do you?”

He froze, his spoon almost to his mouth. There was a clink as he set the spoon back in his bowl. Longer fingers tugged nervously at his collar, his expression sheepish. “Well, luv… The truth is that we have both been busy lately… With you doing all the cleaning and my writing… Then our sleeping habits. I simply wanted a bit of your attention to myself.” His pout made her laugh, her expression brightening.

Another suspicion arose in her mind. “You made these riddles, didn’t you? It seems a bit out of place for Sebastian to suddenly decide to play a game!” She laughed when he confessed to this too. The sound of her laughter was a bright sound that lightened the load on his heart. He knew he had done something right with this “date” he had planned. But surely his fiancee was too clever to have picked up on it. But he grinned, happy to be able to please his future wife. Times would be hard and there would be highs and lows. But one thing was for certain: this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Bonus (Torturing Theo)

The next morning, MC woke up very early and began preparing everyone’s breakfast. Today was going to be a special day, a day she would never forget. The ingredients for Theo’s healthy breakfast lay before her on the counter. She tried hiding her smirk, her fiance chuckling as he sipped away at his coffee. Arthur was excitedly wanting to watch as his best friend got what he deserved. Especially after the time where Theo forced him to drink his most hated substance, tea. She knew that no matter what, Theo would have no choice but to eat what she made; Vincent was sure to have her back on this. After all, she only cares for Theo’s health.

Arthur pushed away from the counter he was leaning on, sauntered over to his lover and placed a kiss to her temple. With a hand resting on her hip, he whispered into her ear. “I’m off to the dining room~ Try not to have too much fun before the main act, luv~” Focused on her work, she barely noticed the affection he gave her. The lack of attention made him pout, but he knew she was enjoying herself. Just as his hand slid from her waist and he turned to leave the room, (MC) gave him a kiss to his cheek. A gentle smile returned to his lips as he left the room. Once he was gone, she continued her work on the “pancakes”.

Theo’s POV

Theo watched as (MC) entered the room. He knew something was going on with the way she was humming to herself. Trying to think of what would make her so happy, he tensed upon remembering that she was making his “special pancakes” today. His dirty blonde hair shadowed his face as he considered whether or not he should make a break for it.

Watching as she placed everyone’s breakfast down, his ocean blue eyes went wide as he looked at the abomination before him. Is this even a pancake!? It was fluffy, that was for sure. The “pancakes'' before him had cabbage in it. Instead of syrup, it had a dollop of something white and what smelled like garlic. “What is this, knabbletje?” He turned his icing glare on her.

She beamed at his expression. “It’s called Cabbage Fritters. It’s just like pancakes, except with cabbage!” Her eagerness only made his scowl deepen. He knew she was doing this on purpose. However, if he said anything that might make her cry, Vincent would get onto him. “I made them fluffy, just like you like your pancakes.” She was at least trying to ease his displeasure.

With hesitant movements, he grabbed his fork and knife. “Don’t I get to have syrup at least?” As she shook her head, he sighed, giving in to his torture. On one side, he could eat it quickly and hope it isn’t as bad as it looks. On the other, he could refuse to eat it. The latter would cause him to receive a stern expression from his broer and he would still have to eat the nasty food.

Theo heard a snicker in front of him and he glanced up to find Arthur trying not to laugh as the author hid his face behind his coffee mug. Cutting into the fritters, as she called them, he stabbed the piece with his fork and slowly lifted it to his mouth. The look of pure disgust on his face as it touched his tongue brought joy to Arthur and his fiancee. He began to chew, resisting the urge to spit it out. Once he swallowed, he tried to force his usual cocky expression back into place. “I-I suppose it’s okay.”

Suddenly, everything was sunshine and brightness as Vincent smiled. “If you liked it, perhaps (MC) should make it more often.” His brother tilted his head, seeming absolutely pleased. He threw a dark look in her direction; She was definitely trying not to laugh. Arthur, on the other hand, broke out into a fit of laughter. His shoulders shook and he was having troubles catching his breath.

Finally having enough, Theo slammed his hands on the table, pushing his chair back as he stood up and made his way towards the lady. With panicked laughter, she ran to her lover, who was still laughing. “Arthur, help me!” At his lover’s call, he stood up and pulled her behind him.

“Schei uit, Theo.” Vincent grabbed Theo quickly, while (MC) pushed herself as close to Arthur’s back as possible to hide behind him. Theo struggled in his brother’s hold trying to get to them. “What has gotten into you, Theo?” His brother’s concerned voice hurt his ears, but he could no longer behave.

“That is NOT a pancake. They’re doing this to me on purpose, broer!” He tried appealing to his older brother, to no avail. Vincent simply held him tighter and gave him a look of disapproval. This only added fuel to the fire. Arthur was sure to pay for this later. He’d make sure of it.

Riddles provided by @madam-mademoiselle

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp vincent

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

So, uh, I got excited with this ask

Anonymous said:

so what if, and I’m just spitballin’ here, you wrote a little something for Tomura, a jealous!reader x Tomura, perhaps? Ik there probably wouldn’t be an actual situation where somebody would try to steal him away or anything but just a little something on the reader seeing something that wasn’t what it looked like and Shiggy kind of reassuring her in his own special way? 😌 pls &thank you sm in advance, but you of course absolutely don’t have to write it if you don’t want to (: love your work!

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, jealous feelings, mentions of past relationship and heavy petting, mm, imma say it’s rated T, for the teens and upper betweens

Word Count: 4387

Notes: Lol. I’m pretty sure this was meant to be like, a drabble or head cannon in your mind nonnie. Me, being me, I stretched it out into a freaking fic. I can’t shut uppppp sometimes. First time trying for a Gen!Reader, so hopefully it’s a thumbs up. Not beta edited, so any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.” ― William Shakespeare, Othello

It��s been two months, two freaking months and you’ve hardly gotten two texts strung together, let alone a call, from Tomura.

While he’s never been what anyone would call a frequent texter, your last message has sat, unread, on his phone for the last 3 days. You know he’s busy, you know he said he’s got shit to take care of, but you can’t help the angry pit of worry that simmers in your gut. He could at least tell you something. Like, hey, I’ll be out of touch for a few days, talk soon. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently it is.

The two of you have always been a quiet item. Most of the League knows, or at least, heavily, heavily suspects. It’s not like you tried to keep it a secret, it’s just the way you both are. Besides, you usually liked how the arrangement worked.

You’d met him through your job. You worked with Giran as a courier of sorts. Sometimes you’d lug shipments back and forth, sometimes you’d make deliveries. It was one of these deliveries that introduced you to Tomura. He was quiet, sulking toward the back of the bar, but you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him as Compress double checked his requested items.

He was waspish, sharp. At first, you worried that your questions had only managed to pissed him off. But then, just as you started to chat with another guy in the bar, a snarky fellow, who was covered in some serious, serious burns, Tomura tugs your attention back to him with a pointed question.

“Can you tell Giran that you’re only one who’s permitted to transport the deliveries to the bar?”

That one query had started a landslide.

You were summoned to the hideout frequently, practically on the daily after that. Giran just shook his head and asked you not to fall too deep. You didn’t know what he meant then. Two months later you understood his meaning perfectly.

How could you not fall head over heels for this guy? Fuck, he was so desperate, so wanting, so fucking needy for you. God, you missed it now that you didn’t have it. After the Kamino incident, he’d called on you even more and you loved that you could help him. He honestly seemed, in his own, gruff way, appreciative.

But, then he’d said he needed to leave the city.

At first, your contact with each other had maintained some semblance of normalcy. You would text and he would reply. You could call and he would answer. Often, he sounded tired, strained, but every once in a while you could pull a laugh from him and all would feel right with the world.

Now?

Now nothing feels right and the only link you have to him is Dabi. He’s the only person in the League that’s responding to your emails or texts. Even Giran isn’t answering anything. That’s not normal either because Giran always, always answers. What the fuck is going on?

It’s starting to feel like you’ll never know. This is mainly due to the fact that Dabi is a shitty, shitty font of information. At first, you’d eagerly taken his calls and texts. In lieu of a tip, you asked him about this mission Tomura was on. He fed you vague, flippant, answers.

“Tch, this again? I already told you, they’re all fighting this giant. It’s some pet of the doctors.”

“And like I said the last, oh, I don’t know, twelve times, giant makes no sense to me. Can you expand on that a little bit? Like, what the hell does that mean? They’re fighting a fucking giant. Is that supposed to be some kinda bizarro hint? Cuz’ it sounds like you’re giving me shoddy information to get me off your back,” you snap, placing your foot on his box of requested medical kit supplies.

Dabi practically keeps you on standby now. The guy has gotten more aggressive in the last month, and the heavy price his fire quirk extorts on his body meant he needs a steady flow of burn cream, meds, stitches and pain relievers.

“Fuck, look, I don’t know how else to explain that fucker. I didn’t give a shit about boss man’s little mission to tame him, so the doctor and I worked out something else for me to do. I’m not around those guys right now, I’ve got other things I’m working on. Now give me my shit and get out of my face. Ask Toga about your little fuck buddy, I could give two shits about his well being.”

“Why follow him if you hate him so much?” God, this asshole is such a prick.

Dabi considers you for a long moment, his vibrant blue eyes lingering on your scowling face. “He’s a means to an end. I’m just here to see this society fall to its knees. Boss wants the same thing, so, for now, this arrangement works for both of us. Now, if I have to ask you to give me my fucking shit one more time, I’m gonna’ singe you where you stand.”

Sucking your teeth, you kick the box toward him and turn on your heel, slamming his door behind you. If he’s not going to be useful to you, why be useful to him? We’ll see how he likes it when you accidentally miss some of his shipment deadlines.

You pace out into the night, shrugging your jacket up on your shoulders. If they’re so far out, if they’re fighting something that sounds like an impossibility, why not ask you to bring them some supplies? Why haven’t they reached out to you?

As you wait for your train, you pull your phone from your pocket, your cold fingers resting against the glass. There’s a missed call from another contact, but no other notifications. You swipe over to your messages from Tomura. Your last text sits, still unopened, unread, uncared for, in his box. It’s not fair, you think, sliding your phone back and pressing your hands into the meager warmth of your pockets.

Tomura used to confide in you and you felt close to him. And not just in a physical sense. At first, the relationship between the two of you was just that, something that eased an itch. But you kept asking him things, liking the soft tone his voice could take on when he lost some of that anger.

Then, he started to wordlessly ask you to stay a little longer, his arms wrapping around your bare form, holding you against his warmth. It was nice. It was so, so satisfying and now it’s gone. Is this his way of moving on from you? You would have thought that he would have said something. He’s never struck you as someone who hides from a confrontation. So why the radio silence?

Another week passes and Dabi keeps calling. He’s practically got your entire schedule blacked out now with deliveries, upcoming shipments and transports. What. The. Fuck. It’s gotten so frustrating that you’ve started to waffle on picking up his calls, sending him straight to voicemail.

“What kinda courier leaves their fucking name on their voicemail? Stop ignoring my calls, (Y/N).”

Yeah, he’s a real charmer. At least he answers your messages though. It’s better than nothing, you keep telling yourself, trying to ignore the gnawing, munching feeling of bitterness that keeps rising. Yeah, Dabi’s gotten to be such a constant in your life that your phone keeps recommending him as a new favorite.

Would you like to add the contact: Dabi, to your favorites list? No, no you would not.

Then, suddenly, out of the blue, Dabi’s not answering you either. Your first, gut instinct, tells you that he’s likely annoyed with your spotty replies or he’s busy with...”Dabi things”. He’s always reminding you about the oh, so important “Dabi things”. ‘Don’t pester me with your shit, (Y/N). I’ve got something big I’m working on.’

But now? Fuck, now you’d kill to hear from him.

There’s absolutely nothing. No response from Toga, Compress, Spinner, Dabi and most important of all, Tomura.

He’d finally read your text. After two whole days had passed from the sent time stamp, he’d read it, and then opted to not respond. It stung. You can still feel that tightening emotion of dread, of abject hurt, that had radiated from your chest when you saw that he’d finally looked at your message and then just decided you weren’t worth his time.

Yeah, after seeing that, the last few days have been nothing but a full tilt boogie of emotions for you.

This must be a planned thing. Why else would they all coordinate their ghosting. He must have wanted to leave you behind and now, this distance has made it possible.

He’s been changing a lot lately.

Even before he left for this, whatever it was, he’d grown in confidence and skill. Fuck, he’d taken on a Yakuza boss and won. He’s becoming a leader, a competent force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t need you to bounce ideas off of anymore. A courier picked up at the start of his career isn’t a necessary piece to add to his collection.

Yeah, chances are, he’s moved on. He’s out of your reach now and you can’t help the thoughts that rise in the back of your mind. What if he’s found someone else? What if he just got bored with you? Did you put too much thought into this relationship? Well, that question has kinda answered itself. You put way too much into this. You had planned for things, hoped for…

Your phone rings and the noise startles you out of your head. You fumble for your vibrating device and lift the screen up before swiping to answer the call. Oh, it’s Toga. Fingers shaking, you lift the phone to your ear and are so happy to hear her babbling voice.

She tells you that she’s been meaning to call you, but, gosh, everything has gotten in the way. Plus, she took a bad hit in a fight. Oh, she’s ok, but it’s been a crazy week for her.

As she chatters about some random series of events that you can’t string together, you let out a long sigh. That coiling that’s been building in your stomach loosens and you’ve never been so relieved in your life. There’s still a chance. Maybe he hasn’t decided to leave you in the dust. Maybe...whoops, Toga asked you something.

“Deka City? No, I’ve never been there.”

“Oh good, well, I wouldn’t try and go now. Tomura sorta, mmm, crumbled it to bits.”

“What?”

“Oooh, and we’re part of a bigger group now…”

She tells you about something called Gigamantia and their new connections. Apparently, Tomura’s made another step up in the world. Now he’s leading something called Meta Liberation? What is that? It sounds kinda familiar, but where have you heard it?

Toga is winding down her conversation, her voice smoothing out. She promises she’ll answer your other texts soon and emails you a set of coordinates, saying they’ll see you there and clicks off.

You lower your phone to your lap, biting back the grin that won’t stop spreading across your face. Ok, so, maybe you’re not as abandoned as you thought. Maybe they, no, maybe he still needs you.

******

You found the building alright. It was impossible to miss. This place is massive, fit for an army. The security is tight, so tight that you’d even been screened by a guard at the door. Once they confirm that you are who you say you are, and you know who you say you know, you’re permitted entrance.

Who are all these people?

As you enter the “meeting room,” which is really a space that looks like a concert area, complete with a well lit stage, you’re pressed into the mass of bodies. There must be hundreds of people here and there’s some hulking creature, dozing in the corner.

Is this that giant Dabi mentioned? You totally thought he was making that shit up. And, wait, wait, is that a pro hero a few spaces away? What is this? Where is the League?

The overhead lights dim and your attention is drawn back to the sage. People are bustling around the elevated area and a plush chair is placed in the center. Looks like the show is about to start.

A loud, booming voice announces the arrival of a man called Redestro. He must be that long faced guy in the motorized chair and, oh, there he is.

He walks up slowly, it looks like he’s leaning on something, but you can’t see clearly. The crowd shifts around you and an inordinately tall man is blocking your view. Huffing out a sigh, you try to maneuver yourself to a better vantage place.

He’s seated now, his long legs spread out in front of him. Fuck, he looks both wonderful and terrible, at the same time. Wonderful because it’s Tomura, terrible because he’s covered in bandages and he’s got a brace on his leg. What happened to him?

Your eyes can’t stop roving over him, trying to drink in everything. He looks like he’s on edge, his fingers clutching at a small slip of paper, as his good leg jiggles against the chair. Why...ah, he’s being introduced. Wait. He’s being introduced as the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front? So...so all these people...this entire organization...is his to command?

He clears his throat and you hear his voice for the first time in months. He’s halting at first, but as he continues his speech his tone deepens, strengthens, losing that early hesitation. He sounds good, powerful and confident.

You tear your eyes away from him and give the crowd a quick glance. They’re enraptured. A few paces away you can hear people whispering to each other, their voices low, awed.

“He took down Redestro…”

“He’s so young.”

“He’s kinda...I don’t know...handsome.”

“You’re right, he looks regal.”

That coiling, trembling feeling is making a strong comeback. It’s an ugly return and it makes your flesh prickle and cool. He’s left you in the lurch for months and now he’s become some sort of leader, of an entire, what is this...a cult? An organization? An army? How the fuck, would you know? No one, least of all Tomura, has told you anything, about any of this.

When the address and introductions (the League had made a, uh, flashy entrance) are over, someone comes up and taps you on your shoulder. It’s another one of those security guards. She says you’ve been requested, the League wants to see you.

She takes you past the stage and down a long hallway. It’s quiet back here and the silence doesn’t soothe your frayed nerves. You’re pointed to a large set of doors and you bite your lip before pushing them open.

Another large room greets you. This one is filled with plush couches, elegantly carved tables and multiple chairs. There’s so much to look at, you don’t even see them at first. No, you hear him before you see him. He’s talking with a tall woman, who is writing down what he dictates, her pen moving rapidly across her paper.

Fuck, you’ve missed his voice.

It’s quiet now, a little hoarse from his speech and you want to step closer. He’s standing next to some large windows, his back turned to you. He hasn’t even noticed you. What were you thinking? He’s this...God, leader now. What are you? Just a nobody he met when he was still pounding the pavement, looking for anyone who could help their cause, their mission. There’s nothing for you here, he’s…

“(Y/N).”

Your eyes snap up to his. Tomura has turned, one arm braced heavily on his crutch, and is looking right at you. His eyes are hooded, dark, you can’t get a read on him from here. You want to step closer, but that sickening feeling is falling, like a stone, into your gut. Despite your turbulent emotions, you can’t stop staring at him.

The thick bandages are off and his hair is longer, the white strands hang close to his collarbone now, gleaming and pearlescent. He looks, damn, he looks tired and...what’s that? There’s something dark on his hand, it’s black and it covers three of his fingers. Why is he wearing that half glove, oh, oh no. It’s not a glove you realize, horrified, it's a prosthetic. He’s lost some of his fingers.

“It took you long enough, come here, (Y/N).”

His voice has dropped an octave, lingering in that distant tone that he would use when he dragged his lips across your neck, rumbling and murmuring against your skin. He knew that you liked that, he knew that it would make you so desperate for him, your hands pawing at his shoulders, pulling...

No. He’s ignored you for weeks, no, months. You’re not about to just fall to pieces at his feet, crawling and begging for him to want you. Your eyes latch onto his and you minutely shake your head at his request, fingers squeezing into your palms.

The woman, noting the tension that’s suddenly entered the room, looks between the two of you, and abruptly makes herself scarce, her heels tapping against the floor as she walks to the door. Once you hear it close behind her you unstick your mouth, your tongue heavy against your teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, your voice croaking, thick with disuse. You can’t help the question. It tumbles from your mouth before you can stop it. You’d meant to ask him something else, but the query just, pops out, angry and trembling.

“I don’t know. One of Redestro’s cronies. Why-” His face scrunches abruptly and a wince of pain passes of his features. “Why does it matter?” He finishes, his hand gripping a little tighter against his cane.

“You didn’t have to send for me, you know. It looks like you’ve upgraded everything else, why not me too?”

A scowl echoes across his lips. “What-”

You won’t let him finish his question, you can’t stand it anymore. You also can’t seem to stop. All of the emotions, the anger, the betrayal, the fucking, God, jealous thoughts that you’d slip into, alone in your cold bed. No, you’re not going to back down.

“You didn’t call, you didn’t text, and when you did, finally, manage to remember that I exist, the texts were so far and few between...fuck, sending a letter would have been faster. The only link I had to you was Dabi-”

“What?” He snaps, repeating his question, his red eyes, flashing, gleaming, glaring. “What does he have to do with anything?” His face is set in a deep snarl, his scar lifting along his white teeth. His fingers coil into his crutch, one digit arched away, and he begins the long journey to where you’re stubbornly standing.

You watch him on bated breath. The sheer excitement of his renewed presence is making you shake. The warring feelings that are rising inside you are too much. It’s too much, it’s, oh...he’s right in front of you now.

“Answer me, (Y/N). What the fuck does Dabi have to do with anything?”

You gulp. Tomura has never, ever liked you interacting with Dabi. It was that first subtle flirtation between you and the flame user that had set Tomura off in the first place. He had barely given you a second glance that first time you met him, but once your attention wandered over to Dabi, suddenly he was all ears. That animosity grew as time wore on.

If anything, Dabi took advantage of it. He liked to press you, corner you, it was one of the many things you disliked about him. He was a selfish ass, only manipulating things for his own, twisted amusement.

It’s a low blow for you to land on Tomura, to play up his own jealousies, but turnabout is fair play, right?

“He’s the only person I could reach. You want to know who my phone keeps asking me to favorite now? Fucking Dabi. I kept asking him about you, about what was going on, but he never knew.

So, then I tried reaching out to you, directly. But then you decided to conveniently lose my fucking number, or something. You didn’t answer a single thing after that last text I sent you, what, two weeks ago? You didn't call. You didn’t even act like I exist, it-”

“I told you it would be a while.”

“Yeah, a while doesn’t typically mean two months. And how do you come back to me? With a broken leg and, fuck, three missing fingers? What is going on Tomura? You’re a different person now. Do you even want me anymore? You don’t have to ghost me. You could have just told me that you were moving onto bigger and better things.

Congratulations, by the way. You’re the leader of a cult. Now, you can cut off all those lousy loose ends, like me-”

“You’re jealous.”

His voice has dipped into that low octave again, rasping, deep, and oh, fuck. You sputter at his assessment, your hands clenching into your pants. You need something to tether you, to keep you from reaching for him. You’re angry, remember? He’s left you, all alone, so alone and...

He’s shifted to lean into you, the warmth of him rolling over you in waves. You can hear his breathing, if you move a little bit closer you could feel it, too. He knows what he’s doing. He’s used this tactic on you before. It’s very effective. His crutch taps him nearer. He’s practically flush against your heaving chest and your eyes flick up to his.

The red is dark, tempered, and that swirling agitation has left him. He looks…

No, no, he left you for months, he can’t look at you like that. You shake your head, your eyes wincing shut, blocking him from view.

“I’m not...I-I’m not jealous, I was just-”

“Come here, (Y/N). Don’t make me ask you again.”

His new, half prosthetic hand reaches for your neck and traces over your trembling throat, ghosting over you, forcing you to press toward him. Once he’s satisfied you’re not going to reject his touch, he lets the digits tap onto you, gently, slowly, like he’s coaxing you out of your temper. The contrast of cool metal and warm skin makes you gasp, your eyes fluttering open.

He’s curved over your lips, his white hair drifting softly around your face. Unthinkingly, unquestioningly, you reach for him. Your fingers lace into the silken tendrils and he lets a slow exhale wash over your face. His verdant eyes are so close. They’re fixated on yours, refusing to let you slip from his gaze again.

You can’t breathe. There’s something else you want to scold him for, but...but his lips are so close. His nose bumps against yours and you bite your lower lip. He’s so warm. He smells nice too. It’s a rich smell, earthy, thick with some enticing aroma that’s all him. It floods your senses and you’re downing, distracted and lost.

Tomura’s won this little stand-off because you reach for him first. Your fingertips urge him to you, one thumb dragging a familiar trail across the mole on his chin. His lips are chapped, rough, but oh, oh you’ve missed this.

He lets you lead him, your lips pressing and lifting, planting feather light caresses against him. Your tongue swipes across his lower lip and he groans. It’s a husky, broken sound and it makes you yank at his clothes. His new suit crumples under your hands. You’d almost feel bad, if he hadn’t been such a neglectful ass to you. You’re nipping at him now, your kisses losing that sweet vulnerability.

Tomura approves of this frantic pace and one arm cages against your back, lifting you closer and dragging you against his front. His crutch clatters to the floor, but neither of you have the wherewithal to care.

Besides, you think happily, you can be his crutch now.

He’s biting and sucking, his teeth drifting from your trembling lips and pressing into your pulse. One particularly hard nip has you arching into him, a gasping whimper on your lips. His tongue laves over the hurt, lulling the nip.

Your hips instinctually lean into the his and you moan when you feel the hardness that is waiting for you there. Tomura presses back, dipping his nose into the juncture of your shoulder, his lips distractedly kissing against your skin. Your fingers trace down his front again and one hand goes lower still, running along his pants until you find what you’re searching for.

He growls when you apply just the right amount of pressure and he’s pulling your lips back to his, demanding more. You’re skirting your other hand to the clasp of his belt when someone barges in the door.

Gasping, you start to pull away, trying to turn, but Tomura holds you to him, lifting his chin until it’s resting against your shoulder. He’s glaring out at whomever the fuck is standing in the doorway, but his fingertips are moving against you, pressing and soothing down your fevered skin.

“Hey boss- ah…” Dabi is brought up short by the sight that greets him and you can hear the sneer that he must have thrown Tomura’s way.

Tomura, for his part, is quiet, content to silently stare down the man who stupidly interrupted him. He turns his head a fraction of an inch, but it’s enough room for him to drag his rough lips against your neck. You quake at the stimulation and hear Dabi let out a barking laugh.

“Ew, well this is fucking disgusting. Looks like the two of you can go back to fucking normal, eh (Y/N)? You and boss man can bone and get all that pent up insecurity out of your-”

“Get the fuck out,” you and Tomura say in unison.

You hear another scoffing chuckle and then the door slams shut.

Notes: The Dabi bits miiiight be in there because I finally got my belated birthday present of his Banpresto figure in today ԅ(≖◡≖ԅ)

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @evesmores

*I think that’s everyone for now. If you wanna be added to a list just drop me a line & I’ll get you on the Google Doc: Shigaraki works, Dabi works, Hawks works, BNHA works, All works...works, works. There’s likely more to come, but that’s what I got for now. k byeeee.

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Azusa Dark [Prologue]

Monologue

For as long as I can remember,

I was not granted a reality,

in which I could live my life while kept safe,

by someone or something.

The people walking by all looked so happy,

as if everything my heart could ever desire,

came to them naturally,

just like breathing.

And there I was, all by myself,

simply continuing to ponder,

whether I was actually alive,

or long dead.

When I gaze up at the blue skies,

the light stings in my eyes for some reason.

So I figured,

that I was probably alive.

Being alive felt meaningless,

and something I was barely even aware of.

Which conditions one has to meet,

to be able to consider themselves ‘alive’,

even this was a mystery to me.

Does breathing and eating,

equal being alive?

I posed myself this question time after time,

as I opened and closed the palm of my hand.

Unless I was moving part of my body like this,

it almost felt as if,

I was dead.

A proof of living.

And a reason to live.

That was all I yearned for.

ー The scene starts with a flashback of a younger Azusa in the city

Azusa: ...

( The gypsies scooped up an orphan like myself from the side of the road as I was about to starve to death... )

( I’ll stay here by myself like this, to at least ensure I don’t cause any of them any trouble... )

( That is all I can do. I have no other value... )

( My life is completely meaningless...I might as well be dead... )

...

*SWOOSH*

Azusa: Ah...!

Justin: Oi, lil’ stray boy! (1)

Why are you sitting over there? You’re an eyesore!

Azusa: S-Sorrーー

*THUD*

Justin: Shut that annoying mouth of yours!

Azusa: ...

Geez...

Christina: Exactly! You tell him, Justin!

You’re still alive because we were so kind to pick you up from the streets after all!

So you better listen to us!

*Smack*

Azusa: ーー!

*Smack smack*

Azusa: Uu...

*THUD THUD*

Azusa: ...

Melissa: Ufufu~ He won’t complain at all even if we beat him up...!

I guess trash doesn’t have any pride, huh?

Well...I guess a kid who had to get picked up from the streets doesn’t even know how to talk back. Right, Justin~?

Justin: Yeah, maybeーー!

*THUD THUD*

Justin: Haah, haah, haah...

Azusa: ...Uu...

*THUD THUD*

Azusa: ...Ugh.

Justin: Nn...?

Azusa: ...Fufu...

Christina: W-What’s wrong with him...?

Azusa: Ahaha...!

Melissa: W-Wait! What’s so funny!?

Azusa: ...Hey, please? Punch me more.

Justin: Haah!?

Azusa: More, do it more and more. Keep going until I’m completely battered and bruised, I’m begging you...

More...Punch me more...

Justin: ...Disgusting...

ー The other kids leave

Azusa: Ah...Wait...Hold up...

Why are you leaving...? Hey! Why!?

...Aah...It hurts...Fufu.

Monologue

Humankind is stuck in a cursed vicious circle,

in which one thing always leads to another.(2)

Without a real meaning, without a real reason.

Those kids who punched me,

are beaten up by someone in town on a daily basis as well.

They have rocks thrown at them, and are yelled at.

And because of this unspoken curse,

they take out everything on me.

Their pent up anger,

eventually all ends up in one place,

and that is me.

It is my duty,

to take their beating,

That is my ‘reason to be alive’

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the living room

Azusa: ...

...Uu...He’s...my...

Yui: Azusa-kun...? What’s wrong?

Azusa: They’re all...my...precious...

Yui: ( I wonder what has gotten into him all of a sudden? It’s as if he can’t hear me at all. )

Azusa: ...Justin...Christina...Melissa...

Fufu...Fufufu...

Ruki: Oi, Azusa. Cut it out. You can talk to yourself somewhere else.

Azusa: W-Wait...I’m filling them in on the news right now.

Yui: ( Them? Filling in? What is he going on about? )

Ruki: Haah...Oi, you. Are you sure you want this guy?

Yui: Y-Yes...

( Well, we actually decided through the cards. )

Ruki: Hmph. ...Okay then. Suit yourself.

ー Ruki walks away

Kou: Fufu~ M-neko-chan, good luck with our troublemaker now that you’ve chosen him?

Azusa-kun can be quite the handful, you know? Although, I don’t think he’s a bad guy at heart...

Yui: Y-Yeah...

( They’re actually leaving him in my care instead... )

Is he that hard to handle?

Kou: One hundred percent! (3) Isn’t that obvious? Fufu~

Yui: ( I-I see...Well, I guess he seems a little off, or rather mysterious...? )

( I probably shouldn’t say this about someone but he might even be a little...creepy. )

Kou: I’m sure you’ll regret it in the end. Finding yourself wishing you had chosen me instead, you see?

ー Kou leaves

Yui: ( There he goes... )

Yuma: ...

Yui: Uhm, Yuma-kun...

Yuma: What? Don’t talk to me like we’re pals.

See ya.

ー Yuma leaves too

Yui: ...

( They all left... )

( W-What now? I’m all alone with Azusa-kun now... )

Azusa: Fufu...Fufufu...

Yui: ( Uu...What should I do? He’s totally lost in his own thoughts. Can I talk to him...? )

U-Uhm...

Azusa: ...Fufu...

Yui: Excuse me...!

Azusa: ...Nn? ...Yes?

Yui: ( Aah, thank god. Seems like he took notice of me at least. )

Azusa: ...Say. Can I ask one thing?

Yui: ( I-I wonder what it could be...? )

Azusa: Do you...like me?

Yui: Eh?

Azusa: Ah. I’m sorry for...startling you. In that case, I’ll change my question.

Can you...punch me?

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: I’m asking a serious question. Can you hit me, cut me, or kick me away?

Yui: N-No way. I can’t do that. I’m not exactly...

Azusa: ...I see.

What a shame, very much so...

I mean...I’m this close to you, yet you won’t punch me...

Yui: ( Azusa-kun actually looks disappointed... )

( However, you can’t expect someone to just punch you out of nowhere. )

Azusa: Do you hate me...? ...I see...

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: But...I don’t dislike you.

Yui: Why? We only just met...

Azusa: Why? That’s because...we have the same scent.

Yui: The same? What do you mean?

Azusa: ...So, please...Let me suck your blood.

Yui: Eh? W-Wait...That doesn’t answer my question...?

Azusa: Can I? You don’t mind, do you? It’s fine...Right?

Yui: ( It’s no use. I’m not getting through to him! )

Azusa: Look, I’ll suck youーー Nn!

ー Azusa bites her

Yui: Ah...!

Azusa: ...Nn...Haah...

Aah, it’s so delicious...I want more, more...

You’re so lucky to have...this kind of blood...

This is...Eve’s blood...Hah...Nn...

Nn...Phew...

Yui: Stop...!

Azusa: ...

Yui: Y-You can’t!

Azusa: Fufu...You’re rather shameless, pretending to dislike it like that.

But you actually love this, don’t you? Being treated like thisーー

Yui: No...!

Azusa: ...

...Fufu. The more you fight back, the sweeter and richer your blood becomes...

We really are alike, two of a kind...

Yui: ( We’re two of a kind? What does heーー )

Azusa: Nn...!

Yui: Uu...!

Azusa: Aah...Delicious...

Say, does it hurt...? Where does it hurt the most?

Here, maybeーー?

Yui: Nn...!

Azusa: Oh, right here, huh...?

I’ll suck you more, okay? Don’t worry...You’re overjoyed, aren’t you?

Yui: I-It hurts! Azusa-kun...!!

Azusa: Hurts...?

I see, it hurts, huh...?

Fufu, haah...Aren’t you glad?

More pain is obviously better, isn’t it? I’ll make you feel it even more.

You are so very precious after allーー Nn...

My Eve...Haah...

Yui: Uu...Kuh.

( Why do things turn out...like this? Who is...’Eve’? )

Monologue

The more I protest,

the more intense Azusa-kun’s blood-sucking becomes.

I knew I had to run away.

However, the more I fought back,

the more he restrained me with force,

to the point where I was left wondering,

where he even found such strength...

I had no other choice,

but to let Azusa-kun indulge in meーー

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Justin calls him 拾われ物 or ‘hiroware-mono’ here, which literally means ‘something which has been picked up’.

(2) Literally it says that ‘being born eventually results into death, and with each death, new life is born’. In this context, I assume it is referring to something like ‘abuse creates abusers’, pointing towards the strong, natural connection between two different things.

(3) Kou literally says ‘360 degrees’ but I felt like 100% was easier to understand for most people.

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Azusa prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #azusa mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbazusadarkprolog

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anyarally · 3 years

Text

Sanders Sides Secret Santa Gift!

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

For: @authorgirl0131 Wish 1: Intruloceit Christmas fluff Wish 2: Sympathetic Deceit whump Wish 3: Logan and Deceit Christmas fluff Ao3 (it’s formatted better on there lol)

Janus, Logan, and Remus Have the Best Christmas Ever

Janus is upset after SvS Redux, so Remus and Logan try to help. Plus Christmas fluff!

We are ethically compromised if we give him a seat at the table

Snake

Liar

Rude

Spiteful

Jealous

Evil

Villain

The Light Sides’ words haunt Janus every night, only getting worse once Virgil leaves. The worst part is… he knows they’re not lying. Every insult, every implication, every rude remark, every single one was true. At least, to those who spoke them it was.

He sits alone in his room every night, Remus usually coming to check on him. Tonight, though, is special. Janus just fought with all the Lights, and told them his name! It was one thing when Remus did it, he’s crazy and unpredictable! When Janus does it… it’s serious.

Remus knocks aggressively on the ornate gold door, “Hey, ‘Anus?! You wanna hang out some? We could decapitate some of Roman’s dumb unicorns in the imagination, I sensed some trespassing earlier!”

Deceit startles on his bed, throwing back the covers (which he really shouldn’t be under this early in the evening) and mumbles just loud enough to hear, “Not tonight, Ree, I’m too tired.”

“Is it because of something they said again? I told them not to get to you, just because we’re different doesn’t mean we’re bad.”

“It doesn’t matter, Remus, just go take care of those unicorns. Maybe tomorrow we can hang out, ok?”

“Oh, um, ok. See you at dinner?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be up to it. Sorry.”

“Alright, let me know if you need anything?”

There was no response. Remus sighed, slumping away to his room.

This went on for weeks. Every day, Janus would come out for breakfast, unhinge his jaw and eat enough for the day, even though he used to eat the same as Remus(in moderation, he refuses to eat eyeballs and pubic hair). Eventually, after about two and a half weeks, Remus had had enough.

When Janus slouched into the kitchen for his daily meal, Remus slammed his hand on the table, “You are coming with me to the imagination!”

“No, Remus. I’m too tired.”

“Nope, nuh-uh, none of that ‘tired’ bullshit, you’ve said that every day for the last month!”

“Re-”

“Nope nope nope! Come with me!” Remus yelled, grabbing Janus’s arm with an unsurprisingly terrifying grin on his face.

Remus dragged Janus to the sickly stone mirror with green ooze globbing out that leads to the imagination, the snake complaining and protesting the whole way.

Once they got there though, none of the things that usually made him happy worked. When Remus had him attack Roman’s unicorns, he only said he didn’t want to make their relationship with the Light Sides even worse. They visited Janus’s giant golden two-headed snake, Eilonwy and Ethelinda, and Janus couldn’t even look her in the eyes(either set of them!). Remus even tried having him watch live musicals by sneaking into Roman’s side of the imagination, but it only reminded him of the movie nights everyone but the Dark Si- now, just Janus were invited too. Remus had stopped going, but still.

After the day spent trying to cheer Janus up in the imagination had no success, Remus decided to bring in the big guns.

The next day, Janus surprisingly didn’t get any visits from Remus. Just one text of a .gif that was weird as hell.

The day after that, however, Janus heard three precise knocks at his door, at precisely 9:00 am. He yelled out, “Remus! Just stop already! I’m fine!” The only response was another precise three knocks at his door at 9:01 am. He only grunted and curled into his heated blanket more, assuming it’s just another one of Remus’s dumb pranks.

After three knocks every minute on the minute for half an hour, Janus caved and opened the door, immediately protesting, “Remus, I swear to Thomas, I-” he stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up and saw who he was objecting to, “Logan?”

“Hello, De- Janus. Remus informed me he was concerned about you, so I have come to see,” Logan pulled out his notecards, “What is up?”

Janus chuckled, pulling the door open wider, “Okay Logan, you can come in.”

Janus puts his hat on as they walk inside, Logan looking around and noticing so much clutter. From what Remus had told him, Janus was a very organized person, almost obsessively so. Plus, the room wasn’t very warm at all, which cannot be good for someone cold-blooded.

When Logan comments on this, Janus simply brushes him off, saying he hasn’t had the time to clean up and his usual heaters would be a fire hazard with the mess.

They sit on some large extravagant armchairs in front of a fireplace, Logan favoring the black one with gold beading while Janus takes the deep yellow one with shiny black beading.

As they sit down, Janus lights the fire with a wave of his hand, trying (and failing) to subtly change his outfit into a clean one from his closet. Logan notices, but decides not to comment.

“So, what did Remus send you for again?”

“Well he didn’t exactly send me, per se, I reached out to him because I hadn’t seen you in a while, he said he would handle it, then he got me when that didn’t work.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, of course. I tried to bring it up to the other Light Sides, but they would not listen. Therefore, going to Remus, and consequently, you, was the best option.”

“Wow, uh, thanks, Logan, I really appreciate that. I assumed none of the Light Sides thought about how things would make us feel.”

“Granted, that is a fair assumption,” Logan quieted down, facing Janus’s bookshelves and silently reading the titles he has, mentally comparing it to books he’s read.

Janus wanted to question Logan about that, but decided to try and get to the point gradually instead, saying, “Logan,” said Side looked up at Janus, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

This made Logan pause and think. After about fifteen painfully silent seconds for Janus, Logan started speaking again, “I apologize, but I do not understand. What are you sorry for exactly?”

“For, ya know, the last video.”

Logan stares at Janus.

Janus groans, “You’re really going to make me say it, huh? Okay, I’m sorry for taking your place earlier in the video.”

“Oh. Yes. That.” Logan stops, trying to formulate a response, “It is quite alright, Janus. While I was a bit hurt in the moment, I appreciate you figuratively beating some sense into the others.”

“Are you sure that you’re actually alright, though?”

“I… well, I do wish you had simply told me.” After Janus sends Logan a questioning look, Logan adds, “I know I would’ve been happy to step down and even let you disguise yourself as me, you didn’t need to knock me out. With those two, it’s very… difficult to get them to actually consider things, I know that first hand, so I entirely understand why disguising yourself as me was the most efficient way to get through to them.”

“Oh, I… I’m so sorry Logan, I hadn’t even considered that. I’m just used to expecting a no, I…”

“As stated before, it’s quite alright. Besides, I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan sighs, looking down at his shoes, “I should’ve spoken up sooner. About the Lights’ treatment of you, I mean. They were unnecessarily cruel to you, and I just stood by. I was… scared. I almost spoke up when Virgil hissed at you when you came to get your hat back from Roman, but I don’t know the whole story between you and Virgil, and I didn’t want to impose. Additionally, I…” Logan took a deep breath, doing a round of the 4, 7, 8 exercise Virgil taught them, “I was scared of being left out. I know I’ve said I don’t have feelings, but I was,” Logan chuckles, “deceitful, in that aspect.”

“Logan,” Janus seemed to be on the brink of tears of relief, “thank you so much. That means so much to me, I… hey, uh, would you want to come over for a movie night this Friday? I know movie nights with the Lights are on Saturdays, so…?”

“That sounds delightful,” Logan started to get up, “I will see you then. I apologize, but I must go. Thomas needs me at my best, I sense he’s about to start editing a new video.”

“No worries, Logan, I’ll see ya Friday.”

And so, Logan came over that Friday, and the Friday after that. After weeks of being holed up in his room, Janus started to come out more often, and Remus was very happy to see more of him. Logan started coming over every Friday, and as time went on, he even started coming over more often just to enjoy Remus and Janus’s company. Sometimes, he would visit Remus’s side of the imagination with them, other times, he would exchange books with Janus and discuss them, and eventually, he would even start inviting Janus and Remus over to view the constellations with him as he explained them and showed them the stars with his telescope.

This went on for months, and eventually, the Light Sides noticed. Whenever asked, though, Logan only stated he needed more time to himself. They laid off for a while, but eventually, it got a little suspicious, especially when they started hearing other voices coming from his room.

Finally, Patton decided to investigate. He heard the voices in Logan’s room while getting him for famILY dinner, and leaned up against the door before knocking.

“And here you’ll see MACS 2129-1, often referred to as the ‘Zombie Galaxy,” Logan happily explains.

“Oh fuck yes!” Remus yells, in turn causing a chuckle to emanate from Janus.

Logan chuckles as well, “Fuck yes indeed, Remus,” Patton gasps almost involuntarily but stays quiet enough so no one notices, “This massive, disk-shaped galaxy spins twice as fast as the Milky Way does, but it's still not nearly as active. Hubble observations of the distant galaxy reveal that it hasn't made stars for approximately 10 billion years. MACS 2129-1 is what's known as a ‘dead galaxy,’ since stars no longer form there. Scientists believed that galaxies of this sort had formed by merging with smaller galaxies over time, but MACS 2129-1's stars didn't form from these sorts of explosive mergers; they formed early on, in the disk of the original galaxy. The findings suggest that dead galaxies somehow internally rearrange their structure as they age rather than changing shape because they combine with other galaxies. I, er, I’m sorry I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

Janus shushes Logan, “No, Logan, we’ve been over this,” Janus gently places his hand on Logan’s slowly reddening cheek, “We love to hear you talk, especially about things that make you happy. Isn’t that right, Remus?”

“Hell yeah, Lo! I love hearing you get so excited about stuff, and I love learning about the stars with you, you’re a great teacher!”

By now, Patton had decided he didn’t want to intrude, he was proud of his kiddos. Logan, for reaching out and making more friends, and Janus and Remus for making Logan feel loved in a way that Patton just couldn’t seem to. He leaned back from the door and walked by, deciding to text Logan to let him know about dinner so he could come if he wanted but he didn’t have to cut his time with the Dark Sides short.

Meanwhile, Logan looked down at his phone and sighed.

“What is it, Lo-Lo?” Remus tilted his head so far to the left his head broke off.

As Remus smacked his head back in place, Logan sighed, “Patton says dinner’s about to start. I really should go.”

“You don’t have to, Logan, you know that right?”

“Yes, I’m aware but I haven’t gone all week and I’m concerned the Lights will think I’m not eating at all. I wouldn’t want Patton to get… upset.”

“Okay, okay, we all remember when Patton went all Hop Pop.”

Logan looked at both of them again with a small, but genuine, smile, dropping it as he sank down to the Light Side’s dining room.

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least.

Patton tried to break the ice, “So, Logan, you’ve been spending a lot of time in your room?”

There was a long, long pause.

“Apologies, I now realize that was a question. I assumed it was a statement. Yes, I have been spending a lot of time in my room.”

“May we ask why?” Roman sarcastically asked.

“I find that I’m more productive when I stay in my room.”

“Well, I’ve heard some other voices coming from your room…” Patton hesitantly added.

“What are you insinuating, Patton.” Logan harshly said, not asked, eyes harsh and cold.

“Well, I, uh-”

Virgil gently cut off Patton’s scrambling, “You know that we won’t be mad if you want to hang out with Remus and Janus, right?”

“Right!” Patton started, “We were actually talking about it some earlier, and we’d love to start having them over for famILY meals too!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Is Roman on board with this?”

Roman sighed, “I may have some issues with my brother, but a true prince wouldn’t stop other relationships from forming just because he didn’t like the other party. I know Remus, and he won’t hurt you,” he thought back to the shuriken, “well, not permanently at least.”

Logan smiled, the first genuine smile he had shown the Light Sides in months. “I can tell them.”

“Wait, Logan,” Logan looks back at Patton, “Christmas is this Friday, and well I can’t think of a better day to expand our famILY!”

Logan chuckled, “I’ll let them know,” he started to head back to his room but paused and turned to look back at the Lights, “Oh, and I’m staying with them on Christmas Eve. Apologies.”

“No problem, Logan! Thanks for letting us know!”

Once Logan got back to his room, he gave the Dark Sides the news. “Remus, Janus, I have some news.”

Remus popped up from where he was looking at his newest dagger under Logan’s covers, “Oooh? What is it, Wolverine?”

“Patton, and subsequently the other Light Sides, have invited you two and I to a famILY meal on Christmas,” Logan noticed how Janus and Remus’s eyes lit up but ignored it in favor of finishing his announcement, “I have informed them that I will be with you on Christmas Eve.”

Janus smiled, “That’s great! So, you told them about us?” Logan sat at his chess table with Janus, “Well, technically they guessed, but yes. They asked about me spending time in my room, then stated they did not disapprove of our… relationship, I suppose.”

Janus smiled, “That’s great, Lo.”

That Christmas Eve, the trio sat around the fireplace in the Dark Side’s living room. They cuddled together under a Big Hero 6 blanket while watching Die Hard, which they all of course agreed was the best Christmas movie. They had stayed up pretty late, and once the movie was over, Remus started excitedly jumping up and down, “It’s after midnight! It’s officially Christmas!”

Logan sleepily checked his watch, “You are correct, but I do not see how this is currently relevant?”

“Now I can give you guys my presents!”

Remus kept bouncing on the balls of his feet until Janus happily sighed, “Alright, what did you get us?”

Remus squealed, “I’ll show you!” while running to his room.

Janus and Logan chuckled together until Logan spoke up, “I, ahem, got you gifts as well. Would it be adequate for me to go get them?”

“Sure, I actually got some for you guys too. We’ll all go get them and meet back here.”

Logan smiled, nodded, and sank out.

When they all returned, they all had light blushes on their faces. “Who would like to go first? In handing out their presents, that is.” Logan awkwardly asked.

“I do!” Remus excitedly shouted. Logan and Janus were very much not surprised, and they all sat down on the carpet in front of the couch.

Once they were seated, Remus yeeted the presents at their recipients, both of which catching their present with ‘oof’s.

Janus ripped his open to reveal a long black cape with golden lining. He was about to start thanking Remus for the warm fabric when the clasp on it caught his eye. He looked closer, seeing a beautiful silver clasp depicting a snake and eight tentacles wrapping around a unicorn. Not trapping it, it felt more like… hugging. Protecting. He flipped it over to see an engraving, ‘J.L.R.’ “Thank you, Remus! I especially like the clasp, and the warmth and style are both surprisingly practical!”

Logan respectfully undid the poorly done tape and placed the wrapping paper to the side, opening the box to see some soft black and white fabric. When he took it out of the box and unfolded it, he saw it was a new unicorn onesie, this one black with stars instead of white, with a rainbow horn, lining, and wrists. Logan started to tear up, holding it back when he addressed Remus, “Thank you, Remus, this is… perfect.”

Despite how calmly it was stated, Janus and Remus both knew how much something had to mean to Logan for him to call it perfect.

Logan went next, getting Janus a new heated blanket with his yellow two-headed snake logo on it, which he loved. Next, he looked at Remus, “So, I did some research, and I got you something. But before I give it to you, I require confirmation that you will not use this on another side.”

“Ooo! Is it a torture device!?”

“Yes. But you cannot have it until you at least promise me that you will not use this on another side. You can use it on as many of yours or Roman’s unsuspecting imaginary townspeople as you wish, but not. A. Side.”

“Jeez, Wolverine, I promise, okay?! Now gimme.” Remus made grabby hands at Logan.

Logan reached behind his back and emerged with a metal dark grey and green pear-shaped object. He holds it out to Remus and he grabs it, “Remus, this is a Pear of Anguish. The first known account of one is in the 17th century, and it is operated as so,” Logan gently pulls the device back from Remus’s hands and twists the circle at the top, making it pop out into expanding segments, “This simple pear would be placed inside the orifice of a person and then gradually expanded. The kindest use was in a person’s mouth where it would ultimately shatter the skull, causing death. More gruesome is when it was used on parts in the lower half of the body which was rarely fatal, but excruciating.”

Remus giggled at ‘lower half of the body’ “Thank you so much, Logan! I can’t wait to try this out, you’re the best!”

Janus went last, giving Remus a silver tentacle-themed ear cuff, which he enjoyed very much, putting it on right away. Next, he gave Logan a gigantic telescope with stars and math equations all over it, with Logan’s logo big on the side. Logan teared up at the thoughtfulness and hugged Janus tight.

The three ended up spending the whole night and day following snuggling together watching cheesy Christmas romcoms, and drinking hot chocolate.

That evening, on the Light Side of the mindscape, the Lights once again did a Secret Santa. Sadly, Janus and Remus weren’t included since their attendance was decided so late, but Patton made sure to get them each something.

Logan got Roman this year, so he got him a journal full of prompts in which he could write, draw, or brainstorm. Patton got Logan, and he made him a bunch of cupcakes with the Logan’s Berry Crofters Jam, which Logan was eternally thankful for. Roman got Virgil, and he got him a grey weighted blanket which he altered by sewing on purple plaid patches with white thread to match the emo’s hoodie. Virgil was thankful he got Patton, getting him a better gift than before by hand sewing small toys of all of them, sheepishly adding he’d make Remus and Janus too “I guess.” Patton got Remus a stuffed animal of a green octopus with a mustache and he got Janus a stuffed animal of a yellow snake with a bowler hat that had a small heater inside.

Everyone loved their gifts and had a great time, but Logan couldn’t decide what his favorite part of that Christmas was; unwrapping presents with the Dark Sides at midnight or eating Crofters-filled cupcakes with them late Christmas night when all the Light Sides had gone to bed.

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athrialuxegna · 3 years

Text

Stronger than she thinks Part 5

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

Hi guys, I updated the last chapters so they seem nicer to read, tell me what you think about it in the comments. I also edited the links to the previous and next chapters as they were a total mess, sorry about that! I hope that you like this story so far, I try my best to readproof it, but some mistakes remain, my bad if it’s bothering you.

Thanks for those who lived a note on the previous chapters, it means at lot! -Lys

What was I doing? That question rang in my head as I made my way to the Child Care Service. I was not a fan of kids, they bothered me more than anything else. Their cries, tears, and temper tantrums were stress-inducing for me. They made me uneasy and self-conscious with their bluntness. As we all say, "truth always comes from a child's mouth" and that's what put me on edge. I didn't know what to expect of my babysitting day. Why did I accept such a thing? Eric, of course. I wanted to know if it was his idea or if it was just a sick joke on Max's part. One can never be so sure about others' intentions and hidden agendas. The leaders had the power to make everything possible within the walls of the headquarters. Why would they want me near orphans? That's what I intended to discover.

I played with my fingers, eyes fixated on the door decorated with drawings, tiny handprints, and a whole bunch of names. How many children find themselves alone every year? No idea, but it seemed that numerous of them had gone through that door to find a new home. It was not really surprising when we knew that their parents took risks on a daily basis.

Patrols in the factionless territory could turn bad pretty fast. The homeless didn't have anything to lose, they were determined to seek their revenge on the system that shut them down without any possibility to be part of it. I understood where they came from. They had to fight to live whereas all the other factions would sustain themselves without thinking twice about them. Except for the selfless Abnegation faction that helped them the best they could by providing them supplies, clothes, and from time to time, food. However, their violence had dire consequences in the Dauntless faction.

As the soldiers of the city, we were to protect and maintain peace in the streets. We were the first to suffer from the conflicts between Factionless and the system. These children were proof of that. I sighed deeply, my fingers caressing the weird painted animals.

" I'm glad you came here, they're really excited to meet you. "

Startled by Eric's deep voice, I turned around to find him, arms crossed, shoulder pressed against the wall a few feet away from me. A small smile stretched my lips, although I could tell that it didn't match my eyes. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of taking care of children. I have never done it before because I was always afraid to make something wrong and being an only child didn't help either. I swallowed thickly, trying my best to keep my cool in front of the young leader.

"Hey, I didn't know I was coming until now," I admitted in a whisper. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Don't be so tense, they're not that bad. I promise everything will be alright, they gave their word to behave." He reassured, eyes locked in mine.

"I'm not afraid of the children," I snorted softly. "I'm more nervous about me being around them..." I shifted my weight on my other foot before adding: "How do you do? I mean, with the initiates and… kids? " I asked, curious about his answer.

Eric snickered, I didn't expect him to be so confident and relaxed, it was as if he had done it his whole life. Which wasn't far from the truth, he had taken care of the initiates since he became a leader five years ago, if not more. I didn't keep track of time as often as I should considering my job but days were pretty much the same since I've been hired to be Harrison's assistant. I felt my cheeks burn and I looked at my feet, defeated that he mocked me for being a pansycake. Which I was, but still, it hurt.

"If I can do it, you certainly can, Chris. Come on, they won't eat you."

Before I could respond, Eric opened the door and made a sign for me to enter. I heard shuffling and whispers, all noises died down as soon as I was inside. The children lined up obediently, aware of Eric's presence behind my back. I felt intimidated under the scrutiny of their innocent eyes. They were of all different ages and sizes, some were almost teenagers.

"Hi," I waved, almost shy. "I'm Christine but you can call me Chris, it's nice to meet you all."

"Hi Chris." They exclaimed in unison.

One of the oldest stepped forward, his shaggy blond hair falling in his chocolate eyes. His joyful smile was contagious, I couldn't help but return it. However, his expression changed suddenly as he seemed to think about his next words. The younger ones kept gawking at me as if I was an alien coming from another dimension. I felt the tension rising in the room as the blond hair boy opened his mouth. Was he the leader of the group or something? Is this some sort of secret children cult?

It looked like it, and this boy gave me a lot of Eric's vibes. He held his head high, his torso pumped, shoulders behind. A future leader for sure... or another Brent. That thought made me frown. How could I compare him with this asshole without even knowing his name? It wasn't fair for the teen. I pushed away any unwanted images. Having a mental breakdown in front of the kids wouldn't do me any good. No doubt that Eric would report it to Max and I was good for an endless "vacation". The other kids looked at him with mixed expressions, some seemed about to explode from excitement or take a run at any moment to come back to their games, and some were tapping their foot impatiently as if waiting for a signal to be able to speak.

"Before we introduce ourselves and let you join us, you have to pass the test." The boy sounded much older than he looked at that moment.

My jaw clenched as I pictured Brent in his place. It was so easy to see the similarities between them. Were they related? If that's the case, I'll make sure to keep my distance. My eyes widened and I stole a glance at Eric who was smirking. He only shrugged his shoulders when he met my eyes. Damn him, he should have warned me beforehand.

"Depends on what this… test is."

What would they want me to do or say? The blond boy made a sign and all children moved in sync to gather around him, whispering between them to come to an agreement. What was that? After several seconds of heated debates, they finally took their original place. Mini soldiers, perfect future initiates, are already programmed to fulfill the faction's goals. Was it Eric's doing? All these questions drove me insane, I wanted to turn around and talk to the leader alone.

I needed some clarification on what's going on and the rules of this Child Care Service. While I was thinking of it, I didn't see any worker or nurse on my way here. Did nobody care about these kids? Was it a wicked way to push me to take the job? I was so lost that I didn't register that the teenager had taken another step forward, standing right in front of me. He was almost eye level to me, he had to be at least fifteen if not more.

"So, Chris. If you want to become one of us, you have to answer one question." The boy paused to look me dead in the eyes. "What do you think of Eric?"

I blinked a few times, unable to comprehend his question. He curled an eyebrow in defiance, a smirk playing on his lips. His expression matched Brent's perfectly, so much that I shuddered. Heat rose in my cheeks, coloring my skin a deep red, I felt hot and cold, shivers running down my spine. I gathered all my courage to not react when I caught a glimpse of satisfaction in his irises. I won't let this brat get to me that easily. In truth, I was a complete wreck Brent and the boy morphed into the same person in my mind, that same wolfish grin on their lips. I slapped myself mentally to snap out of it. I needed to answer that stupid question or else they'll consider me weak and that wasn't an option.

"Cat got your tongue?" Teased the teenager, arms now crossed over his chest, surely imitating Eric's posture, but lacking his charisma.

" No, I… I didn't expect that kind of question, that's all." I felt Eric's eyes boring into my skull from behind. "We don't work a lot together so I don't think I know him as well as you do, but I trust him, he's a good person, even though he's almost always in a bad mood. I also like his jokes." I added more quieter so that the leader couldn't hear me properly. "Don't tell him that I said that but, sometimes, he's not funny but I laugh anyway to not make him feel bad."

I think I gained some extra points with my remark because the kids burst into laughter, clutching their sides as if recalling the infamous jokes of Eric. I tried my best to smile when the blond boy extended his hand to shake mine. His hold was strong and confident, showing me clearly that I just entered his territory.

"Congratulations, Chris, you're welcomed in the CCS." He bent over to whisper softly in my ear. "Eric didn't lie, you truly are beautiful."

Stunned by his boldness, I stared at him, fear evident in my eyes. Wrong move. Something flickered in his eyes, a malicious glint that made me want to run for my life. What he said took time to reach my mind. Eric told him that I was beautiful? I blushed uncontrollably, his smile grew wider, believing that he was the one to have this effect on me. I opened my mouth to retaliate but he beat me to it.

"I'm Aidan by the way. I'm sure we'll get along very well." He called over his shoulder as he turned on his heels and joined the older ones.

Petrified, I jumped out of my skin when Eric's hand found my shoulder. He put it back right away as if I just burned him. His worried eyes plunged into mine and I knew that I was screwed again. Eric was able to pick up that something was wrong. Something that we couldn't discuss in front of the kids.

"Don't let Aidan get to your head, he just likes to mess with everyone. He's a good boy when you get to know him."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I replied dryly, unconvinced.

One by one, the children came to introduce themselves. There were so many names to remember and faces to attach them to, I started to feel a pounding headache making its way into my brain. At least, it helped me get my mind off Aidan and Brent. I already had a fan club following me like lost puppies around the room. Everytime I turned around they would hide behind furniture, playing innocent. This routine kept going for some time before I got tired of walking aimlessly. The only one following me without even hiding it was a little girl who hasn't said a word since my entrance. I crouched down to her level, a reassuring smile on my lips as she cowered a little from me.

"You didn't tell me your name before," I said gently.

She just looked at me, clutching a stuffed bunny in her tiny arms. Her emerald eyes were mesmerizing, I could almost drown into these pools of rich greenery, they were gradually lighter from the center to turn into a deep olive green on the outer ring.. She looked so small and frail compared to the others, I wondered what her story was. Seconds passed and she didn't try to make a sound. I finally gave up, it will take time for her to warm up to me that's all. I brushed her hair out of her eyes, revealing her porcelain skin.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, it doesn't matter."

To my surprise, she jumped into my arms and clung to me even when others wanted my attention. I sat in a chair, humming softly an old song from before the war. I didn't remember the lyrics nor the title clearly, but I could recall the melody anytime. The mute little girl was snoring in my neck as I rocked her back and forth. She dozed off minutes prior, lulled by my voice. I didn't realize that many children were sitting around us, listening and daydreaming.

Eric was sitting in a chair nearby, his hands behind his neck, eyes closed. He seemed different among the kids, less nervous and on edge, he didn't even have to raise his voice to make his point clear. The children surely respected him. The peacefulness lasted another twenty minutes before a knocking on the door stirred awake the few ones who had fallen asleep. I came back to reality, my hand entangled in the girl's brown hair. When did I begin to stroke her head? She looked comfortable on me, her hands held my shirt as if to prevent me from abandoning her. My heart ached painfully for her, she wanted affection and attention, as any of these kids.

"Chris." I looked up to see Eric towering above me, a knowing smile on his face. I rolled my eyes and he chuckled. "It's time for us to go, the next team is here to take over."

I admitted that I enjoyed my day here, as long as we forgot about Aidan. The girl in my arms shook her head, realizing that we were about to leave. Her fingers curled around my shirt, preventing me from putting her back down. I felt bad so bad that I hugged her back and whispered in her ear.

"I'll come back, I promise."

She refused to let me go as I tried to pry her off. I kept murmuring sweet nothings to ease her pain to no avail, she was stubborn as a honk. Eric approached and tried to take her with him but she fought back, crying silently. I didn't know what to do so I let the leader take matters in his hands.

"Violette, look at me." The brunette looked at him with teary eyes, he gently wiped her tears away. "You know that we can't stay all the time here, we have to eat, work and sleep, too." Violette nodded slightly. "We'll come back before you know it, now Martha will take care of you. I heard that she has a gift for you, one that you wanted for a long time."

Violette's face brightens at the prospect of a new toy. She kissed my cheek then wriggled in my grasp. I put her down and she ran straight to Martha who was ushering the elders towards the bathroom. A contented smile crept upon my lips, kids were so fast to change their minds. I envied their ability to forget about their problems as long as they had anything to play with.

"Fear of abandonment, a hard one to fight against at such a young age." Commented Eric beside me. "They're stronger than most of the initiates that I've trained so far."

"That's not right, they're still kids, Eric."

"I know. I don't like it either, but it's their way of processing what they've been through. They grow up faster than the other kids, they have to look after themselves because they know no one will do that for them. I try to be there whenever I can, it's obviously not enough, you know how a leader's agenda is full."

"I can help." I blurted out before I could think of it.

"That's not why I brought you here." He replied without explaining further as we made our way out of the room.

"Thanks, that was… interesting and surprisingly calming."

"I knew you'd like it. So, you'll come back?"

"Sure, I don't have anything better to do anyway."

"Right."

A casual silence followed our little conversation. My thoughts were drifting away when he spoke again.

"What did Aidan say to you?"

"Nothing to worry about, he was just being a teenager." I dismissed with a flick of my hand.

"Don't lie to me, Chris. I saw the fear in your eyes." His tone grew cold. "What did he say?'

"That's not what he said," I whispered. "He kind of reminds me of Brent. I don't know why but I don't feel safe around him. Damn, I'm ten years older, I shouldn't feel like this." I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to keep my composure.

Eric remained silent as I stopped dead in my tracks before we came close to a more crowded walkway. He turned his head with an eyebrow raised in question. I sighed, debating whether I should talk to him or simply keep my struggles to myself. He must have sensed my hesitation, he tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing to read into my soul.

"Stop doing this."

"Doing what?" He retorted, genuinely clueless.

"Your "I'm reading your mind look", it's quite annoying." Eric rolled his eyes.

"Then stop thinking that I'll report to Max whatever you say or do, and talk to me instead of overthinking. "

That was my turn to fall into silence, his face softened ever so slightly and I felt guilty. He helped me before I even was aware of it, I should be grateful and trust him, but I couldn't because I didn't trust myself anymore. At least, not for now.

"Chris, I've already told you that seeking help doesn't make you weak nor unworthy. "

My heart skipped a beat, was this his way of saying to let him help me? His cerulean eyes screamed sincerity. Why was he caring so much about my well-being?

"Thank you, Eric. I'll keep that in mind." He nodded curtly. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Meet me here at four, we'll go together."

"Sounds good. " We shared one last look, then we parted ways.

#ericxoc #eric coulter #eric divergent #divergent #divergent fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #four #eric divergent x oc #eric coulter x oc

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youreacowgirllikeme · 3 years

Text

Coffee to go

Pairing: Chris Cuomo x female Reader

Warning: Swearing, Smut (only read this if you’re 18+ pls), NSFW, not edited

Note: Alright, this is my first attempt at smut so be nice pls (also I’m not a native speaker, so sorry for my grammar)

The cold November wind blows right into your face as you walk (actually, it was more of a jog) through the streets of Washington DC.

“You will reach your destination in 200 meters“ the computer voice from google maps tells you through your headphones. You break into a run, clutching your hot coffee cup tightly to prevent it from spilling over.

“Shit, don’t let me be late on my very first day of work“ you whisper to yourself, as you finally reach the huge glass doors of the CNN headquarters.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N“ you tell the security guard at the entrance, showing your ID„ I’m the new intern in the politics department.“

„First Elevator on the right, then all the way up to the 10th floor.“

You pass the security check and mumble a quick “Thank you!” to the guard as you make your way over to the elevator. You have 3 minutes left.

“This is my dream job, this is my dream job. It’s finally happening.“ you repeat to yourself, alone in the cabin.

You still can’t believe that you were granted the prestigious position as an intern for the DC politics department at CNN. You graduated with a degree in journalism from Oxford, UK this summer, but with the current political climate and the presidential election coming up, you felt like DC was the place to be at the moment. When you saw there was an internship at CNN advertised, you didn’t hesitate and applied. And all the hard work you put into getting excellent grades and doing tons of extracurricular work payed off, because here you were, on your first day of work.

You try to calm your fluttering nerves one last time with deep breaths and a sip of your still fairly hot coffee.

As the mechanical voice announces the elevators arrival on the 10th floor, you practically storm out of the doors...and run straight into a wall.

“Oh Fuck!“ a deep voice exclaimes, and as you take a step back you see that the wall you ran into was, in fact, a man. A very tall, broad and handsome looking man...with your hot coffee spilled all over his white dress shirt and a furious look on his face.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Sir!“ you cry out, praying for the ground to swallow you up. What a perfect first impression. You reach in your pocket to grab a handkerchief, but he dismisses you bluntly with a wave of his hand.

„Just watch where you going next time.“

Giving you one last sharp glare, he walks away, disappearing into a door further down the hallway.

Still mortified, you throw your now empty coffee cup onto the nearest bin and hurry to the room you were told to go in your admission email. It’s a tiny office, where a moddle-aged woman sits on a desk loaded with paperwork.

“Good Morning Ma’am, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the new politics intern, starting today.“ you tell her, hoping that your face isn’t beet red anymore and your jacket is free of coffee stains. The woman glances up from her computer screen and gives you a quick look over.

“About time. Welcome to CNN, I’m Susan, your supervisor.“

She rummages trough a desk drawer.

"Here is your company ID, a key to the break room, you already sent us your signed contract, didn’t you?“ she asks in a monotoneus voice.

"Yes, thank you so much.“ you say, taking the offered items. "Is there already a list of what my tasks here are going to be?“

"Yes, with the election coverage starting tomorrow, there is still a lot of preparation to do. You’ve been assigned to run errands for our anchor team today, and I guess also for the rest of the week. Paperwork, coffee, stuff like that, just be at their back and call. We expect it to be a tight race, and we need to cover it 24 hours a day. So be prepared to spend most of your time here.”

"There’s a locker in the break room, put your stuff there. The copy room is next door, make 3 copies of those papers and bring them to Chris Cuomo, he’s our lead anchor for the election coverage. His office is the last door down the hall on the right. And hurry, we don’t have a lot of time and he’s not exactly a patient man.” She starts typing something on her phone, obviously dismissing you.

You rush to the break room, hastily throw your bag and jacket in the last free locker, checking your appearance one last time in the mirror (face still a bit red, but no coffee stains, thank god) and go on to make those copies next door. You let your mind wander while the copier does it’s job.

Chris Cuomo. You know he hosts a well known daily prime time show on CNN, but you’ve never seen it as it airs in the middle of the night in the UK. You’re actually suprised they chose him for the job of the election lead anchor, considering he was originally based in the New York Office of CNN. You try to remember what he looked like, but you have no idea. And no time to google him.

So you just grab the stack of papers and bolt down the hallway to the door Susan described. There’s a provisional sign on the door, bearing the name “Christopher C. Cuomo”.

You knock three times and hear a loud "Come in“ from the other side of the door. You enter...and stop instantly, eyes going wide.

Standing in front of you is the guy from the elevator. The hot one. The one who’s dress shirt you ruined with your beverage.

Said dress shirt lies on the floor in a crumpled heap. The man, obviously Chris Cuomo himself, is wearing only a white undershirt, apparently in the middle of changing clothes . His huge, muscled arms are on full display. And he’s looking directly at you, one eyebrow arched.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his deep voice.

You realize you are staring, and quickly try to compose yourself.

“Uhm, yes, I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr Cuomo, I’m Y/N, the new intern. I’m here to deliver those papers from Susan’s office . I’ve been assigned to assist you today...Sir” you add hastily.

“Assist me, huh? I hope this doesn’t involve any more coffee. I only have so many white shirts.”

“I’m so sorry again for that, Mr. Cuomo.”

“Don’t worry, kid” he says, now giving you a closer look. His eyes are a perfect shade of blue-green. The heat started creeping back in your face under his scrutizing gaze.

“You’re a Brit, aren’t you?”

You just give a quick nod, not trusting your ability to speak properly. He comes a step closer, arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“Have a good start then, Y/N” he says, voice dropping a bit, still holding intense eye contact.

You feel your heart rate going through the roof and pray that he won’t detect it. This mans presence was really intense and brought all kind of distracting thoughts to your mind.

Your "Thank you so much, Sir” comes out way less confident than you intended to, and you basically flee through the office door you hadn’t even bothered to close when you entered.

“Wow!” you think to yourself, “It’s the first day, and you already made a fool of yourself and now have a giant crush on the lead anchor, who’s at least in his 40s. Good job.”

This was going to be interesting.

(Next Day, afternoon)

“Don’t stare, don’t stare.”

You chant your mantra in your head for what felt like the hundredth time this day.

The last 24 hours have been the most exciting, stressful and demanding ones of your entire life. You currently run on what feel like 5 liters of coffee, some energy bars and a two hour nap you managed to catch on the couch in the break room, the circumstances leaving you with a constant feeling of giddy exhaustion.

But no matter how much your eyes were burning, you couldn’t take them off Chris Cuomos hands. Those big, strong hands with thick fingers, holding manuscripts, fixing his tie or just opening a bottle of water. You try your best not to think about how those hands would feel like on your bare skin, grabbing your hair, pushing your tights apart. The burning feeling between your legs intensifies as you feel yourself starting to get wet.

Chris is wearing a black suit today and looks so unbelievably good that you want to cry. His confident, almost dominant demeanor in front of the cameras, combined with his sharp witted comments on the latest news only fuel your growing attraction to him.

Youre standing in the corner of the studio, holding a stack of papers and a clipboard with the latest numbers of some irrelevant county in Alabama that you need to hand over to the anchor desk.

The cameras move over to Phil on the magic wall. Chris uses the quick moment out of frame to stretch his arms above his head, his shoulder muscles clearly visible even through the suit jacket. You’re staring again. And he’s looking directly at you with a knowing smirk.

He caught you.

You feel your face flushing again and you quickly begin to shuffle through the papers in your hand in a poor attempt to appear busy.

“Thank you Phil, we’re taking a quick break now, stay with us.” Chris’ voice sounds through the studio. As soon as you made sure that the cameras are turned off, you hurry over to the anchor desk, putting down the fresh manuscripts with the latest numbers and restock the water bottles, all while trying your best to avoid Chris, still mortified that he caught you checking him out.

The commercial break only lasts about five minutes, so you quickly make your way to the studios supply cupboard to fetch some new water bottles. They were on the top shelf, just barely out of reach for you. You were already standing on your tiptoes, but no chance.

“Need any help with that?” a deep voice suddenly says right behind you. You startle, loosing your balance and fall right into the hard chest of Chris Cuomo. Strong arms sneak around you, steadying you. In that moment you become aware of the heat radiating from his huge form, his delicious smell of aftershave and coffee filling your senses.

Your pulse is like a hammer in your chest as he lets go of you, giving you the opportunity to turn around and face him.

“We really can’t have any normal interactions, Y/N?” he asks, studying you, again with that intense gaze and a little smirk.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Mr. Cuomo, I don’t know what’s up with me, I’m usually not that clumsy. Must be the lack of sleep.“ you ramble and try to return his stare, forcing your voice to sound steady and confident, something you weren’t feeling at all.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind you falling into me at all.” He comes closer, his huge form filling out most of the tiny storage room. You take a small step back and feel the shelf behind you. You look to the floor, absolutely overwhelmed with the situation (and without a doubt, with a beet red face again) One of Chris‘ giant hands reaches out and turns your chin up to meet his eyes. His touch burns and tingles on your skin.

“I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I’m talking to you.“ he says in a intense and stern tone that sends a hot throb to your center and makes you take a sharp breath. You feel your nipples hardening under your blouse, wetness gathering in your pussy.

„Yes, of course, please forgive me, Sir.“ You look up to meet his eyes.

His pupils are dark and dilated as he lets out a deep, shuddering breath. The tension between you is almost palpable.

„Come to my office after the shift is over. Alone.“ he says and storms out of the storage room, leaving you behind in a horny, confused mess, waterbottles totally forgotten.

The next few hours are agonizing. Not only is the election a really tight race, your nerves are in a total frenzy because of what happened in the storage room. You keep replaying the interaction in your head and try your best to not stare over to where Chris was sitting, failing miserably every time. One time, your eyes meet his, but he just arches his eyebrows and looks back onto his laptop screen.

The dominance with which he had talked to you stood in a total contrast to the gentle touch of his fingers on your face. You are confused, and more turned on than you have ever been by anyone else.

You want to kiss him, want his hands all over your body, touching your naked skin, claiming you. Why does he want you to come tonhis office? The uncertainty was driving you crazy.

Time was creeping at such a slow pace, but finally the day shift is over. You ask an extremely tired looking Susan for a break which she begrudgingly grants you.

After quickly freshening up, you make your way through the empty hallway to Chris office, heart almost jumping out of your chest. What the hell was going to happen?

Straightening your blouse one last time, you knock on the door, waiting for the allowance to enter.

”Here goes nothing.”

Chris sits behind his desk, both suit jacket and tie hanging over the chair.He’s looking at you, as if he’s expecting you to make a move.

There was a prominent vein in his temple that became more noticeable the longer you stood there, failing to get a word out, hands trembling at your sides.

His shirt sleeves were turned up, and the view of his defined forearms sends a throb of want directly to your core. Finally, Chris breaks the silence and adresses you.

“Y/N, why are you here?”

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, accentuating his biceps. You just stand there, unable to move a single muscle.

He gets up from behind his desk and makes his way over to where you are, stopping directly behind you. A shiver goes down your spine because of the close proximity.

His next words are spoken with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, his deep voice making the hair on your arms stand up.

“I asked you a question, little one. Answer me.”

You gathered every ounce of courage you had.

“I want you to touch me.”

He doesn’t move.

“Please, Sir.”

Suddenly, two strong hands grab your shoulders and spin you around.You stare directly into Chris’ face, his dark pupils are blown, there is a look of unhinged lust on his face.

A second later, his lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss isn’t gentle, all tongue and teeth and passion, making your head spin and your knees weak.

One of Chris hands sneaks around your back and grabs your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. You moan loudly as he holds you even closer, his hard bulge pressing against your abdomen. His big, hot body pushes you back against his desk and he effortlessly lifts you to sit on top of it.

Chris takes a step back, his large hands sprawled on your tights. You can feel the heat of his skin all the way through your trousers, the need to have him is so strong that you feel like your whole body is on fire.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, little one?” He says in low, throaty voice, holding your tights in a hard, almost bruising grip. “Staring at me, biting those pretty lips, undressing me with your eyes, making me hard every time. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

He kisses you again, and starts to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You can’t focus, your hands clutching at his back, little gasps of pleasure coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, please, I need you” you exclaim, admitting what’s on your mind since the moment you saw him wearing that undershirt. His hands leave your tights and start opening the zipper of your trousers, pulling them down your legs in one smooth motion.

His hands are now roaming up and down your bare legs, slowly coming closer to the pool of heat and want between them.

“Oh my God, please touch me.” you beg, longing to finally feel his fingers on your aching pussy.

One of his large hands leaves your leg and gives you a hard smack on your ass, the pain causing you to utter a sharp cry and sending a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

“Ah, be polite, little one. Use your words and ask me properly for what you want.” Your face is burning, why was hearing this so incredibly hot?

“Please touch my pussy and fuck me, Sir, I need your cock.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But this was an exceptional situation, and right now you’d say anything if it would result in Chris cock buried inside you.

He smiles a devious grin. “I wanted to do this since the moment you stepped into my office yesterday. Take off your panties, now.” he commands, giving you another slap on your ass.

While you’re hurrying to get rid of your underwear, he starts unbuckling his belt, opens his fly and takes out his cock. It’s long and hard, already leaking precum. You were in for a treat. He pulls a condom package out of his pocket and rolls the rubber over his length.

“Turn around and bend over” he said, you quickly obey and a moment later you feel one of his thick fingers parting your wet folds and entering you, while another finger rubs your aching clit. A needy whine breaks out of your mouth and you throw your head back in pleasure .“God, you’re already so wet for me, little one.” Chris groans, adding another finger.

You almost can’t take it anymore, feeling like you might go insane if he doesn’t fuck you right now.

“I need you in me, Sir, please” You’re begging now, totally beyond caring.

Chris removes his fingers, lines up his huge cock at your opening and starts slowly pushing in, inch by inch.He groans, grabbing your hips, and once he’s fully settled in your tight heat he starts a brutal, deep pace.

You let out a hiss as he stretches you and hold onto the desk, trying not fall over with the force of his powerful thrusts. The pleasure is overwhelming, his large cock filling you perfectly over and over again, a bruising grip on your hips, his deep voice groaning dirty things into your ear. You’re ability to form coherent sentences is long gone, only moans and short breaths are coming out of your mouth.

Behind you, Chris is breathing heavily as one of his hands reaches around you to rub your clit.

“Fuck, You feel so good baby, so fucking tight around my cock.” he swears as his thrusts are starting to become faster and more erratic.

His rubbing on your clit intensifies, and you can feel your climax approaching.

“Come for me baby, come on my cock.“ Chris leans forward, biting the tender the spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

Pleasure and pain surge through you as you hit your peak, Chris‘ name on your lips. You feel his body going stiff behind you, his grip on your hips tighening almost painfully as he finds his release with you.

For a while, the mix of both your ragged breaths is the only sound in the office, then Chris carefully pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness making you whimper.

Strong arms embrace you, and you hear a small chuckle as a kiss is being pressed to your neck.

But the gravity of what you’ve just done still hits you like a punch to the gut and you whirl around, eyes wide with shock, head still spinning from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Oh, oh no” you mutter to yourself, breathing heavily as you see your crumpled trousers and panties lying on the office floor along with several papers who fell from the desk during your activities. What did you do?

“Hey, hey, little one, calm down.” Chris says, sensing your anxiety right away. He cups your jaw and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your trembling lips. Your worry eases a bit as you kiss him back.

“How about you lie down on my couch and I go and get us snacks and something to drink. Maybe even some coffee?” he asks after pressing a final kiss to your head.

You manage a shaky nod and a small smile, looking up at Chris’ handsome face.

He flashes you a toothy grin, forehead still shining with a thin layer of sweat, his hair tousled.

He looks breathtaking.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.”

“I know.”

#chris cuomo #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #cnnanchors #cnn anchors #i have too much time on my hands

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

Note

If you're taking requests, maybe the foxes reacting to soft andreil? I love seeing their relationship through outside perspectives

Sorry for the delay! I ended up with two very different ideas for this and wrote both of them. I’ll be posting the other one in the next week or so! [EDIT: Here it is!]This was great fun to write. Thank you for the request.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Read here or on AO3

#1 Dan

Dan raps her knuckles against the door to the monster’s flat and waits. Nicky greets her with an impressive mop of bedhair and a baffled expression which smooths over only when Neil darts past, citing brunch with Dan as his excuse for being awake at such a thoroughly reasonable hour on a Sunday morning. He’s in high spirits, from what Dan can tell, rolling on the balls of his feet as they wait for the elevator to arrive. Dan is ready to put it down to excitement over their plans – she has a stack of potential recruits under her arm thicker than Les Misérables for them to discuss, hopefully with a stack of pancakes of equal height on the side. Then she spots the light bruise peeking over the hem of Neil’s collar, and draws a very different conclusion about the source of Neil’s good mood.

She smiles as they step into the elevator, but keeps the observation to herself. While some members of the team love to badger Neil for the slightest insight into his relationship, Dan is willing to push her curiosity aside for the sake of Neil’s privacy. He has plenty other teammates to pester him without her jumping on the bandwagon.

Just before the doors slide shut, an arm bursts through the gap, forcing them open. Andrew is as stoic and terrifying as ever (not that Dan would ever admit it) even while wearing Neil’s foxprint-patterned pyjama bottoms. The quickened rise and fall of his chest is the only hint that he ran to get here.

Neil raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his underdressed partner.

Andrew lobs something at Neil which bounces off his chest and lands on the floor between his feet. Neil stoops to scoop it up, and Dan sees that it’s his wallet.

“Thanks.”

“Idiot,” Andrew huffs. He retracts his arm, and the doors slide shut on the sight of him stalking back to their dorm.

Neil taps the wallet against his hand a couple times before sliding it into the wallet.

“You’re both idiots if you think I’m letting you pay for brunch,” Dan says wryly.

Neil shakes his head. “I said I was going to pick up some stuff at the store afterwards. But thanks. Brunch is on me, though.”

“We’ll see,” Dan says, which means no. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That was sweet of him.”

The corner of Neil’s mouth twitches. “Nah. He’s just making sure I come back with the junk food I promised him.”

“Sure.” And, oh, Dan had been trying to be good, but she really can’t help herself any longer. “So, did you guys mean to give each other matching hickeys, or was that just a fun little accident?”

Neil slaps his hand to his neck and groans.

All in all, it’s a great morning.

#2 Kevin

Aaron’s trial is coming up. Kevin wouldn’t care (well, he would, but for different reasons) except that it’s making the cousins snippy and fractious. More so than usual. Andrew isn’t sleeping properly, although he would deny that it had any relation to the trial. Unfortunately, his insomnia is contagious, which ends with Neil losing focus at their night practice, having spent the best part of a week running on fumes and gatorade.

Kevin has been patient – patient by his standards, anyway – but the third fumbled catch in a row snaps his temper like brittle bone.

“Get the fuck off my court, Josten.” Kevin says, smacking the base of his racquet against the floor.

“Fuck you,” Neil answers reflexively. He stops to push his lengthening bangs back from his face.

“I’m not joking. You’re in no state to play. Get the fuck out.” Kevin wishes Neil would take it as the blessing it is, a night to re-focus and re-calibrate, but instead he’s glaring Kevin down like he just asked him to eat sewage.

Neil turns away from him to send another ball barrelling towards the goal. It misses by an entire foot.

“Neil,” Kevin says sharply, readying for a fight that neither of them have the energy nor patience for.

Before he can begin, the doors to the court bang open. Andrew stands in the entrance, arms crossed. It’s the expression that ends an argument before it’s had time to start; Kevin knows it far, far too well.

Andrew leads Neil away to the showers while Kevin continues his drills.

When he’s finished washing up, he finds the pair in the team lounge, collapsed on the wider of the couches. Neil is asleep, slumped into Andrew’s side. Andrew looks up as Kevin enters, but he doesn’t move his hand from its resting place in Neil’s hair. Although Neil was the only one of the pair training that night, Andrew’s hair is plastered against his head as though he, too, is fresh out of the shower. Kevin tries not to consider the implications.

They wait in silence for a few minutes, watching as Neil sleeps, properly sleeps, for the first time in far too long. Neither are willing to disturb him, but the night is late and Kevin has a whole host of classes waiting for him in the morning.

“I’ll walk back,” says Kevin. Andrew meets his gaze for a long moment before nodding briefly. The bags under his eyes betray him.

Kevin darts back into the lockers to pick up Neil’s abandoned kit bag. When he passes them again, Andrew has slouched onto his side, having manoeuvred Neil in front of him so they can both lie comfortably. His arm is slung protectively around Neil’s waist like Andrew is prepared to beat off the world to keep him there.

Kevin knows they spend more nights in each other’s bunks than out of them in the dorm, but somehow they’re always up and away before anyone else is awake enough to give them any hassle over it. Kevin doesn’t care, but Nicky can be overbearing at the best of times, and Aaron is… well, Aaron. But here, in the privacy of an empty stadium, it looks like Neil has finally found enough security to drop off at last, and Andrew looks ready to follow. Kevin shuts the door behind him, not quite smiling, but close. It was strange to some, the idea of Neil and Andrew, but anyone who saw them curled up together would see it plain as day. They just fitted.

The next day, Neil is closer to being himself again, and no more is said on the matter.

#4 Matt

Matt has to admit that press duty with Neil is never boring. The interviewers seem to share his opinion, visibly perking up when Neil follows Matt into the room. They lost to the Bearcats, but it was close enough that Matt doesn’t have to lie when he says that he’s proud of the team’s performance today.

“Some are saying that the failure of the defence line in later stages was due to Minyard’s performance in goal in the second half. How would you respond to that?

Matt doesn’t know why he bothers opening his mouth; the question may be directed to him, but he knows damn well that a boulder in the shape of Neil’s fury is already barrelling in this hapless reporter’s direction. “Well-”

“Last time I checked, this was a team sport,” Neil says loudly. “Was I hallucinating that, or has there been a few rule changes since yesterday?”

Matt isn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Coach had told Matt to keep an eye on their resident fire-starter as though anyone was at all capable of controlling Neil when there was a mic in front of him. Matt feels sorry for the poor sucker that will one day be assigned to the role of Neil’s publicist, because he’s sure that Neil will drive them into an early grave alongside Matt’s.

“You have to admit that the number of goals that he let in-”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that his entire defence line had already played two full quarters before he even stepped foot on court. People get tired the longer a game goes on, of course defence is going to suffer in the second half. But sure, keep pinning it on the goalie you clearly have it in for.”

Matt claps a hand on Neil’s back. “What he said,” he agrees, staring down the reporter.

They take no further questions.

Matt doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he leaves the showers to see Andrew and Neil alone in the locker room he ducks back out of sight. He walks into at least one dramatic confrontation amongst his teammates per week, and sometimes the best way to deal with the daily bouts of fox drama is to hide and wait for the storm to pass.

“Point me to where I asked you to lead my own personal crusade.” Andrew’s flat tones echo off the tiled floor. Matt regrets leaving his Ipod in his bag. The conversation doesn’t seem too personal to overhear, but Andrew and Neil have never been the easiest reads.

“I’m tired of them talking shit about you just because they have a vendetta against anyone with your…” Neil trails off. Matt imagines him to be making several expressive hand gestures; it’s hard to condense all of Andrew’s history and circumstances into one word. “…everything,” Neil settles on.

“Your principles should not intersect with my business.”

“Even if it could affect your future career?” Neil’s words are met, unsurprisingly, with silence. “Besides, yours do.”

“Explain.”

“When I first came here, you told Nicky to back off. Not out of concern for me. Because of your principles.”

This time, the silence stretches so long that Matt doesn’t think Andrew is going to answer.

“Point,” Andrew concedes.

“Besides, is it so bad that I’m standing up for you?”

“Only when it’s making new enemies for you. How many does one man need?”

“I’ve got room for a few more,” Neil says. There’s a rustle of movement, and, oh, are they kissing? Matt strongly suspects that they are kissing. It’s more than his life is worth to look. He takes a few steps back, rattles his kit loudly and makes as much noise as possible before entering the locker room. The pair are a safe distance apart by the time he enters, and Matt gives them a probably-not-convincingly-casual nod before busying himself with his change of clothes.

The pair spend the journey home holed up together at the back of the bus, and if he suspects that they’re doing a little more than talking, Matt keeps it to himself.

They’ve earned a little privacy, after all.

#5 Aaron

“Well, maybe if you stopped and took the time to, I don’t know, explain literally anything that you do, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”

“Aaron,” says Bee, a gentle reprimand. He isn’t in the mood to hear it. His attention remains on his brother, who’s features remain the same stony, impassive blank that they have in almost every joint session to date. It’s an expression that makes Aaron want to tear his hair out, or kick his brother’s face in, or both.

“What would you like me to explain?” says Andrew, more of a challenge than an offer. Aaron snorts, because, where to fucking begin?

“How about we start with your little fuck-buddy, seeing as you’re so keen to start on mine.” Earlier that week, Andrew had returned early from a class to find Aaron and Katelyn together in their dorm room. The result, while not outright violent, had been deeply unpleasant for all involved. And of course, Andrew was being an ass about it.

“Aaron. We’ve talked about this. How can you expect Andrew to talk about Katelyn respectfully if you won’t offer the same respect to his own partner?”

Aaron scoffs. “It’s not the same.”

Andrew’s eyebrow… it doesn’t quirk, but it twitches. “Oh?”

Aaron gestures vaguely. “You know what I mean.”

“I can assure you that I don’t.”

“Me and Katelyn. You and Neil. It isn’t the same.”

“How so?” Andrew’s tone isn’t in the danger zone yet, but it’s edging towards it.

“I’m not talking about the gay thing. I’m talking about…” The hand Aaron was waving clenches into a fist as he drops it into his lap. “Don’t make me say it.”

Andrew and Bee share a look over his head.

“Aaron,” says Bee.

“I just, fucking…” Aaron grapples with words, struggling to find a combination that won’t rip them apart any worse than they already have been. “How the fuck can you expect me to believe that you and him… that you’re real. That you’re normal, that you’re like us, after everything those fuckers did to you. What makes him so different?”

Andrew watches him. Just when Aaron resigns himself to the fact that no answer is coming, Andrew speaks. “If I ask him to stop, he stops.”

Aaron bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he thinks he might have drawn blood. “It can’t be that simple.”

Andrew shrugs.

“How?”

Andrew’s eyes flicker upwards, like he would rather be anywhere else, having any other conversation in the world than this one. “We have a system. We don’t touch each other without asking first. We listen to each other. We talk. What more do you need me to say?”

Aaron falls silent. He doesn’t know what he needs from his brother, still, but it’s something.

“I have a question in return,” Andrew’s eyes flick to Bee. He isn’t looking for permission, but she nods in encouragement nonetheless. “Katelyn. What makes her so different?” Andrew meets his gaze dead-on as he turns Aaron’s own words back on him. “How can you trust her, after everything that bitch Tilda did to you?”

And finally, it all clicks into place.

Aaron forces himself to look his brother in the eyes. So much like his, yet at the same time so different. “Okay,” he concedes at last. “I see.”

Because, at last, he does.

#7 Allison

Neil appears at Allison’s door with a black eye, a bust lip, and the words “don’t freak out,” spilling from his mouth before she can get so much as a word in.

“Great start,” she says, pulling him in. “Who do I need to kill?”

“My shoelace came undone and I ate shit while I was on my run. I just need enough makeup that I can get through class without looking like I’ve been in a fight again. Do you know how many of my lecturers have taken me aside to give me the domestic abuse hotline?”

“You should know how to do this yourself by now.” Allison rolls her eyes as she leads Neil through to the table.

“You’re better at it,” he admits grudgingly, and oh, doesn’t that just warm her heart to hear.

“Nice try. You’re still taking me out for coffee after this.”

Neil pulls a face, and Allison laughs. It doesn’t take long – Allison has treated him in far, far worse shape, as much as she’d rather not think about it – and soon there’s only the faintest smudge around Neil’s eye.

“Can I tempt you to some mascara? Glitter?” Allison asks, waggling her eyebrows as she spreads the contents of her makeup bag out for his inspection.

“Maybe next time,” says Neil, “When I’m not going to a calculus lecture.”

“But that’s the best place for it.” Allison dabs the tip of his nose with her brush, and Neil’s face scrunches up as he tries to hold back a sneeze. His hair flops back down over his forehead as he moves, falling into his eyes.

“Don’t move just yet,” Allison says, yanking a drawer open and fumbling for the kitchen scissors. “I’ve been meaning to deal with that mop for weeks, and right now I have you trapped.”

“Oh, no,” Neil says flatly, but still he surrenders herself to her demands. Wise move.

“Perfect,” says Allison a few minutes later, ruffling Neil’s hair to shake away the last loose strands. “Ready for the red carpet now. I hope there aren’t any cute guys in your maths class, or Andrew is going to go mad with jealousy.”

Neil snorts. “He’s not really the type.”

“Mhmm,” says Allison, because in her experience, everyone is the type.

Speaking of the psychotic little devil himself, Andrew bursts through the door just as Allison is brushing up the last of the trimmings.

“Hey,” Neil says, apparently impervious to Andrew’s thunderous entrance. Andrew ignores the greeting, taking hold of Neil’s chin to turn his face from side to side.

“Kevin said you fell,” he says, relinquishing the grip. Allison half-turns away, pretending to busy herself tidying but really listening, because the monster’s overbearing-boyfriend performances are rarely seen in public yet endlessly entertaining.

“Shoelaces. Who could have seen it coming?”

“I did. And warned you. Twice.”

Neil winces. “My bad.”

Andrew mutters something under his breath that seems to involve the words kill you. The day Allison understands their relationship is the day that she gives up on any and all gossip for the rest of her life.

Then, Andrew pauses, distracted. “Did you trip and fall onto a pair of sheers?”

“Allison gave me a haircut. How does it look?”

Andrew holds his hand in front of Neil’s face. When Neil nods, Andrew runs it quickly through his hair, gently tugging at the roots as he goes. “Awful.”

“Hey,” Allison interrupts, outraged. They both start, and Andrew’s hand drops away, like they had forgotten she was there. Which was the point, really. She holds the scissors in Andrew’s direction. “You’re next, scraggy.”

“When I’m dead,” Andrew replies flatly. It’s clear he isn’t joking. Neil shakes his head at them both.

“Come on, then,” Allison says. “Neil’s taking me for coffee. Give us a ride and I’ll buy you the sugariest, most expensive drink on the menu. I’m hoping the diabetes will finish you off if lung cancer falls through.”

Andrew glances between them. “Fine.”

Sugar and Neil; the keys to Andrew’s stony little heart.

#8 Nicky

Nicky is fully capable of responding to his cousin’s newfound domestic happiness with maturity and decorum.

He just chooses not to.

This has nearly ended in violence no less than eight times. But really, how can he be expected to let it lie when his cousin, who came to him an unruly, violent teen to whom any conversation was like pulling teeth with plastic tweezers, is, for the first time, experiencing the gay teen college romance Nicky could only have dreamed of?

With his fiancée a million miles away, Nicky has to live vicariously when it comes to matters of the heart. There is no better subject for this than his violent baby cousin, who, it seems, isn’t such a baby anymore.

Nicky is beyond late for his class already when he realises that his laptop is dead. He had been skyping with Eric until ass-o-clock in the morning, forgot to plug it in before passing out in his bunk and is paying for it three-fold. He has two options; pencil and paper (what is he, a toddler?) or steal someone’s laptop. The answer is both clear and obvious.

Andrew’s is the first to hand. He most likely won’t surface until noon, by which time Nicky will have returned from class, leaving him none the wiser. The perfect crime.

Or it is the perfect crime until Nicky opens the laptop in the middle of his seminar to a webpage that is filled with very, very unsafe-for-classroom content.

Nicky slams the laptop shut. It wasn’t a video, none of the sites Nicky knew from his own fits of late-night loneliness. Large blocks of text, diagrams that were more analytical than downright pornographic. Nicky slides the laptop open again, just enough for the screen to light up once more, and tabs up. No, not porn. Informative. Educational.

The girl beside him, although unable to see his screen, is giving Nicky some very strange looks. Nicky glances back to the laptop before sliding it shut once more. Pencil and paper will have to do.

The class is drier than dirt, leaving Nicky’s mind with far too much space to think. A dangerous pastime in Nicky’s case, Eric would say teasingly. Nicky had assumed – well, not that he had thought about it, much, but Andrew always seemed so set and sure of himself that it was hard to imagine him googling how-to guides like an acne-riddled teen the night before prom. His apparent innocence is weirdly adorable. Not a word Nicky uses out-loud in his cousin’s presence, but true all the same.

Nicky remembers his first time. Awkward, uncomfortable, and involving entirely the wrong set of genitals. He can only hope Andrew and Neil’s is better.

He shouldn’t get involved. He really, really, shouldn’t.

Nicky slips the laptop back into place mere moments before Andrew slouches into the living space. Nicky watches him as the coffee-maker gurgles away, thinking.

“Andrew.”

Andrew glances up. Nicky isn’t sure what he reads in his face, but it must be setting off alarm bells, because his hands move almost unconsciously to his sleeves. Nicky holds his hands up.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I just…” Oh, this is a lot more awkward than Nicky anticipated. “You know, I’m always here for you. If there’s anything you want to talk about.” He clears his throat. “If you have any questions…”

Andrew’s eyes narrow. They flick in the direction of his desk. Nicky remembers, far too late, Andrew’s impossibly perfect memory. He would remember the exact position he left his laptop in. Nicky is busted.

“Don’t borrow my laptop,” Andrew snarls. The coffee brewer clicks, and it may be the only thing that saves Nicky’s life.

“I’m sorry! I was in a rush!” Nicky says weekly. “If it’s any consolation, the guy who sits behind me now thinks I’m a grade-A pervert.”

Andrew slams a mug down on the counter so hard he almost cracks it. “One more word. One more.”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise, I’ve been there, okay?”

Andrew takes his coffee and his laptop and leaves without another word. Nicky counts it as a blessing.

The next day, he’s working his way through the mother of all essays when Andrew enters the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Nicky keeps working until Andrew pulls a chair over to Nicky’s desk and sits in it. He stops typing mid-sentence, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Everything okay, Andrew?”

“I want you to take a moment and remember how many knives I have on me right now.”

“A lot, I assume.”

“A lot,” Andrew confirms. “If I had any other choice in the world, I would take it. But I have you. So, I’m going to ask you something, and you are going to be calm and level and mature and everything that you usually are not when you answer.”

“Of course,” Nicky says in a heartbeat. He can’t think of a single time Andrew has ever come to him for help, not even when he was wrapped up in bed and coughing his lungs out the day before his AP Calc exam. Nicky has never been more determined to get something right in his life.

“How,” Andrew says, stops, starts again. Today is full of firsts; Andrew is usually so careful and measured with his words. “How do I do it without hurting him?”

Nicky’s heart is ready to melt or break or explode, maybe all at once. “Oh, Andrew.”

“The knives, Nicky. Remember the knives.”

“Okay,” says Nicky, and he tells Andrew everything he can. He wants, more than anything, for Andrew to be safe and happy, and if it involves going into details that even Nicky is squeamish about discussing with family, then that’s what he’ll do.

He offers to write out a list of reliable books and websites for Andrew to check out, ones he used himself and others Eric recommended to him. Andrew shakes his head.

“Just tell me. I’ll remember them.”

When they’re done, Nicky almost claps Andrew on the shoulder. He thinks better of it, hand hovering mid-air before he withdraws it. “Andrew.”

Andrew is half-way out the door, but he stops, which is more than Nicky expected.

“You’ll be fine.”

Andrew huffs, and abruptly disappears. Nicky smiles to himself as he turns back to his essay.

It took him a long time to piece it all together, but the truth is that Andrew really can be quite sweet, in his own terrifying way.

Nicky wonders how long it will be before he has to give Neil the sex talk too. Maybe he should offer.

Best not to; he has some self-preservation instincts, after all.

#9 Renee

Renne likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. Some of his quirks are more obvious than others, however; it doesn’t take a student of human character to notice that when Andrew wants to spar, it’s usually because he has something on his mind.

Renee is hardly in a position to judge, not when she finds the cut and blow of a vicious fistfight as cathartic as he does. There’s still a piece of Natalie Shields underneath all of Renee’s growth like the pit at the heart of a peach. Sometimes the best way of holding her down is by letting her out in controlled increments. Give her the inch so she won’t take the mile.

As usual, it is only when they have beaten each other to exhaustion and back that Andrew is ready to talk. They sit cross-legged in the centre of the room, slurping down apple-juice cartons like kids in the playground, and finally, Andrew speaks.

“I want you to train Neil.”

Renee sets her carton down. “I thought Matt was teaching him to box.”

“He’s a shit boxer.”

“Neil or Matt?”

“Both.”

Renee shakes her head. She reaches back to pull out her hair tie, letting her bangs tumble back into their usual place. “Is there a reason Neil hasn’t asked me himself?”

Andrew is silent. There it is; the heart of the matter.

Renee sighs. “I’m not going to force Neil to train with me if he doesn’t want to.”

“I don’t force Neil to do anything,” Andrew says sharply. Renee winces; it was a poor choice of words on her part.

“Why do you think he needs it?”

“Matt is teaching him how to box. It’s not the same as real fighting.”

Renee hums. “Can’t he do something for fun?”

“That’s not the point. Besides,” Andrew pauses. “Matt only knows how to fight like the fuck-off giant that he is.”

Renee can’t argue with that; Matt never had to learn the same style of combat that she and Andrew did. He may teach Neil how to throw a good punch, but there’s a big difference in stance and strategy when your opponent is a foot taller than you. Renee and Andrew learned that the hard way.

“And who is it that you think Neil is going to be fighting?”

Andrew waves one arm in an all-encompassing gesture. “Have you met him?”

“Andrew.”

“Renee,” he shoots back, imitating her tone and inflection.

“What did he say when you suggested that I teach him?”

Andrew scrunches up his features in an imitation of Neil’s ugh face. “He said that he gets enough bruises as it is.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t roll his eyes, but his eyebrows twitch as though he’s considering it. “He also said he doesn’t need to get any better. Because he…” Andrew grimaces. Sharing is still tough for him, even after years of therapy and trust. “He has me to protect him.”

“As I said,” Renee says, smiling. “He’s not wrong.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He has his moments.”

They finish their juice boxes in silence.

“Well,” says Renee, getting back to her feet. Her legs may be going stiff, but there’s still some fight left in her. There always is. “I may not be able to train Neil, but at least I can train his bodyguard to the best of my ability.” She holds her hand out to Andrew. After a moment of careful consideration, he takes it, using the pull to swing himself to his feet. “One more round?”

Andrew nods, determination setting in his eyes like concrete. “One more round.”

Renee likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. This time, as they trade hits and kicks, it isn’t anger or frustration powering Andrew’s movements; it’s something far more powerful.

She thinks – hopes – prays – that the worst of Neil’s fights are behind them. All the same, she sleeps a little easier knowing that, should the day come, Andrew will be at his back with a knife in each hand.

That’s love, after all.

Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought

Still open to requests!

#aftg #andreil #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #my fic #asks #anon

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #374

“doctor, doctor, won’t you please prescribe me something? / a day in the life of someone else...”

Does someone have a crush on you but you don’t feel the same way? No. Who do you feel most beautiful around? No one. What’s one makeup item you cannot live without? I could live without any makeup. What’s the most expensive thing you own? My snake, I think. Or my laptop, idr. Are you more of a book person or a TV person? Book. Relationship status? Single. What color are most of your clothes? Black. Did you french kiss before you were 16? No, I was 16. Last song you listened to? "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. Would you ever go back to any of your past relationships? Yes. What’s your favorite thing about life? That's a big question. I guess seeing acts of mass love and kindness, reminders that we're all in this together through all hardships. Who pays for the first date? Whoever asked the other person out, imo. Who has always been there for you? My mom. Have you ever written on a wall? No, at least not to my memory. Do you play any computer games, if so, what ones? I think anyone who reads these by now knows, haha. I don't much play anything else. I prefer console games. What would you name a baby boy if you had one? Probably Damien or Victor. What would you name a baby girl if you had one? Alessandra, no questions asked. What lyric means the most to you? I mean there's tons, but the first one that came to mind is "for such a little thing, you sure are in your own way" from "Get Up" by Mother Mother. Like in the big picture, we humans are so so so minuscule, but with brains that are too complicated for our own good. It's my own head that creates so many obstacles for me. Who is the smartest person you know? Probably my friend Girt. Have your parents ever been to jail? No. Do you share a bed with anyone? My cat, haha. Does it flatter you when guys open doors for you? It's flattering if anyone does, not just guys. Do you enjoy taking naps? Yeah. That's like part of my daily routine. If your friend asked you to hold their drugs, would you? Nope. Is there anyone you try to be a good influence for? My nieces and nephew, but I don't feel like I am. I'm a poor example of an adult. Do you own a pair of fishnets? No, but I have a pair of fingerless fishnet gloves. Which do you prefer: french toast, bagels, pancakes, waffles, bacon or cereal? All are great, but french toast. Yes or no: eyebrow piercings? I'd actually have one if I didn't have glasses. I think I'd look weird with one as I look now. When I say "The Beatles," what is the first song that comes to mind? "Hey, Jude." In your opinion, what is the very worst type of weather? Extremely hot and humid. You can only listen to one band for the rest of your life, who do you pick? Ozzy Osbourne, of course. Can you snap with both of your hands? Yeah, but it's harder with my left. What is something that you had to learn the hard way? For some people, promises don't mean shit. If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you paint it? Maybe like a light peach. When was the last time you got butterflies? I think not since Sara told me I look really pretty in eyeliner. ;_; <3 When was the last time you felt like your heart was actually breaking? There was this one time I was listening to "The Ghost of You" by MCR a while after finding out about Jason's mom's death and I just like... broke. When’s the last time you were in a line? When I was getting my second COVID shot. Do you trust the media? HA! Fuck no. If you could kill off one species of animal, which would it be? At first I was appalled by this question, but like... do wasps serve a purpose? Of all fauna, they annoy me the most. I mean bees are already endangered enough, and they prey on them. They don't pollinate, so like... why are you here. I may be mistaken and they have a valuable role, in which case I take all this back. Who’d you last say I love you to? My mom. What’s the most overpaid job in your opinion? I have on idea. Most jobs are underpaid. What’s the last thing you wrote down? I was doing some paperwork at the TMS office on my first day there. When’s the last time you heard a gunshot? I don’t know. What are you looking forward to? Now that my tattoo (which looks fucking stunning, by the way) is out of the way, I can focus on other things. I'm particularly looking forward to hopefully seeing the results of TMS manifest (which should take 3-4 weeks). It sounds horrible, but I'm also keenly awaiting this dog we're stuck with to go somewhere... The person who gave her to my sister to give my mom won't take the dog back, and we can't find another option that doesn't risk her being euthanized, which we absolutely do not want. We just don't know what to do, but she's driving Mom and me INSANE. Do you listen to online radio stations? No. Have you ever done something sexual that you regret? No. Have you ever said anything to the last person you kissed that you regret? Multiple things. Have you ever ate so much you puked? Ugh, no. That sounds awful. Do you care about what others think of your physical appearance? Very much, sadly. Would you rather eat cookies or brownies? I gotta say brownies. Which YouTuber have you learned the most from? I mean, this depends on the subject. From Mark, I've learned most about life and how (I think) to be a good person, but there's a lot of pet channels I watch that have taught me loads about proper husbandry. This answer just depends on what knowledge you're talkin' about. Who would you want to be the flower girl at your wedding? Probably a niece. Do you want to be married within the next ten years? It'd be nice. Do you feel like your life is too fast-paced, or do you wish it were busier? Ugh, I wish it was busier. My days are a COMPLETE, routine drag. What are some hobbies which you want to pick up? I want to just be more artsy. I wanna draw and write more, and I'd love love love to be in healthy enough shape to handle going on walks with my camera. There are sometimes I miss editing videos, too. I'm unsure about completely new hobbies. Does anyone encourage you to go after your dreams? My family and a few friends. Oh, and definitely my psychiatrist. What group are you most active in on Facebook? None, really. I mostly just observe. Are you ashamed of anything? A number of things. Primarily not having a job at my age or even being in school. What were your favorite Disney rides as a kid? I loved Splash Mountain, I think it was called. What were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? Never been. What are some places you want to visit that you’ve never been? South Africa, Alaska, Canada, Yellowstone National Park, Bahamas, Venice, Rome... What are some places that you’ve been that you’d like to go to again? Disney World, Chicago, and this one super clear lake I swam in once a few hours away that I don't recall the name of. Have you ever owned a succulent? No. While they're pretty, I've never been much of a plant person. Do you support small businesses? I REALLY want to start doing that more when I have the option to buy my own stuff/have my own income. As someone who wants to be a freelance photographer, I get it. Starting an independent business is hard as hell. If a brand were to sponsor you, which brand(s) would you prefer? Uhhh I dunno. Have you read the entire Bible? No. Do you make bucket lists for each season? No. That does sound kinda fun, though. How old were you when you first dyed your hair? I have no idea. Do you dye your hair regularly? No. :/ I desperately want to, though. It's just not something we can afford to spare cash on. What is the most comfortable type of pants, in your opinion? Pajama pants? haha Do you think you could ever be famous? No. I'm way too boring and don't want to be anyway. What are some jobs you’ve had in the past? Sales associate, cashier, and deli worker. None lasted long whatsoever. What are some jobs you want to or would like to have? List five. FIVE? I don't know. I just know I want to be a photographer. Well, being an artist or poet would be very cool. And a reptile breeder, maybe tarantulas, too, but that makes me kinda nervous with JUST how many babies they have. What are some jobs you have considered? In rough order from youth to now: paleontologist, vet, movie director, game designer, author/poet, artist, music video editor, wildlife biologist, photographer... Maybe there's more that just aren't coming to me. Are you thankful for social media, or do you wish it didn’t exist? Depends on the day for me, but I'm generally thankful for it so I can keep up with the lives of people who are important to me. It's just that it's a breeding ground for self-doubt and rampant comparisons that can easily depress me when I see some people are "further ahead" and more "established" than me. What are some of the best medications you’ve ever had? The combined efforts of Latuda and Lamictal saved my life. What was a video you watched over and over as a kid? There were lots of movies, like The Lion King, a certain Barney one when I was very young, and I watched Finding Nemo like crazy. Do you know a lot of people who were loving, and then turned cold? Jason????????????????? Is that you??????????????????????????????????????????? Do you own anything plaid? Ha, what a coincidence, I'm wearing my red plaid pj pants. Are you good at remembering names? Definitely not. Have the cops ever gotten on to you for anything before? No. What email thingy do you use? (yahoo, gmail, rock) ... Rock? lol anyway my main is Hotmail, but I inevitably have a gmail to have a YouTube account. What game system(s) do you own? PS2, Wii, Nintendo DS Lite, and a GameBoy Advance. Are you any good at Guitar Hero? I used to be; I played most songs on Expert, then some really tough ones on Hard. I was soooooo addicted to those games. I remember when I got the first one for Christmas, I literally played it all day. Have you ever played Call of Duty? Nah, not my jam. What is your favorite/most visited website? YouTube. Is your bed comfortable? Sure. I've definitely had way worse. Do you have a garage? No. Fun fact, I've never lived in a house with one. Should you be doing anything right now? What? There's a number of things I could be doing that are definitely more productive, like finishing decorating my damn room. Do doctors or dentists make you more nervous? Not really. I only ever get nervous to hear my weight at the doctor's. Did you ever think you were about to die before? I don't quite know. When I ODed, it was more like I didn't care if I did. Have you ever really had a near death experience? Was it cool? "Was it cool." Literally fuck off. I guess you could technically consider my OD a "near death experience," especially given how many pills I took, yet I somehow experienced almost no ill symptoms. Maybe because we got to the ER for fluids quickly enough, idk. I'm just glad I didn't die. What is your favorite kind of weather? Snowy! Like a steady snowfall of large flakes with no breeze and total silence. *chef's kiss* Ever tasted beer? Ugh, no. Just the smell makes me sick. It was my dad's drink of choice when he was an alcoholic so I just have a very negative association with it. Have you ever seen a dead body? Yes, at an open-casket wake. Ever poured salt on a slug? As kids, my sisters and I would get our parents to do it because they grossed us out. So, so cruel. I still have this weird but pretty extreme phobia of them, but I wouldn't torture the things like that.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''don't let me get me'' by p!nk

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years

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Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 3: About pacing and terrible dark revelations played as jokes.

And here we are at the second part of the arc, which was titled “Abandoned”. And just as a word in advance: While “Underappreciated” was mostly defined by the shitty behavior Sam experiences by his crew and how Dobson crossed comedic lines to the point Alex and her crew come off more as abusive than “funny” in the way they treat Sam or interact with their environment, this one is defined by another major issue Dobson has in his bigger stories overall: Pacing.

See, the right pacing in a story is really one of the most important basics a creator kinda has to grasp. He or she needs to know primarily the following things in relation to pacing, when planning out a story: What are major events/storypoints/key scenes I want to work towards to, what happens inbetween these points and at which speed do I get from point A to B, C etc.

Cause the truth is, a lot of stories out there follow certain tropes or expectations, particularly when they are part of a certain genre, so people more or less have ideas when a certain “point” is hit, what the next point, if not even the endpoint is going to be down the line. And people also kinda want to reach the endpoint of a story, particularly if they expect doing so will finally give the protagonists they care for (and the audience itself) some sort of satisfying conclusion.

The one thing you can now do however, which can in the worst scenario totally kill an audiences/readers enjoyment of the story and even break your creation apart, is get the pacing wrong. For example by unnecessarily dragging out your story instead of just getting to the point, especially when people just want to reach the next major beat, resulting in increased annoyance by them. This can e.g. be seen in a lot of fanfics when writers create damn arcs within their own shit, or (to give a professionally published work of fiction as example) the manga Bleach, when instead of fighting Aizen and his two major supporters directly, the “war” against him was unnecessarily dragged out by having e.g. a pointless flashback sequence that barely shed new light on certain characters and gave EVERY damn main and sub captain of the Shinigami a shot at some random villain/minion Tite Kubo created on the spot but no one cared about really, just to make the story arc run longer.

Obviously, the opposite can also be the case, where people just rush too fast from one point to the other instead of giving the audience time to even properly comprehend or explain what happened and why it happened. Which can get additionally frustrated, when by rushing through plot points the work of fiction gets overloaded with concepts and ideas that may on first glance look interesting, but don’t have any real payoff in the big picture of things, making it come off as pretentious in some cases and pointless overall. Like the movie Southland Tales, which deserves to be burned off the surface of the planet.

The “best” case scenario when pacing a story, is to know when you need to slow things down (give characters and the readers e.g. moments to breath and emotionally comprehend a situation they are in, giving also insight into a characters emotional state or personality) and when to speed things up (e.g. when there is a big battle, to know which moments are meant to focus on, but also when to be “faster”, giving really the impression that time is of the essence, that high stakes in a short amount of time are given and to hit a key event at the right moment to get a satisfying reaction from your audience)

And now, after giving a glance on my general opinion on pacing, in order to avoid me commiting the cardinal sin of dragging things out, lets just get to Dobson’s actual artwork.

As you can see, the chapter starts off again with the island, but this time now with Sam not part of the picture and its consequences (no one cleaning up the place in the morning). This is not really a bad thing to start the chapter of, primarily because it creates a nice contrast to the beginning of the first part.

Page 3 to 5 however…

Lets just say I get what Dobson tries to show here, but I think is exaggerated to a degree that kinda hurts the narrative; the fact that without Sam, shit does not quite get done.

The problem is the execution of the idea. See, instead of putting the fact Sam is missing into the forefront, the fact stuff has not been done is. Stuff the crew should be able to handle after a very short time of adjustment easily. I will admit, Talus suspecting they were robbed but then asked if he had also looked into the cabinets, is kinda funny. I mean, it fits the character (and sometimes people in real life) to be so adjusted to seeing a certain situation as routine every day, that when it is slighty changed they may initially assume the worst but in reality just one convenient step of the routine was left out. Less forgivable I think is the fact that seeing how Sam did the clothes the day prior, I have to wonder how dirty those guys are that already everything is left in piles of dirt to the point they have only the following alternative as wardrobe.

Halloween costumes.

…. Ok, why is there Halloween, and likely a modern day variant of its celebration, in a comic set in a fictional world compared to ours, in a time period it would not exactly exist anyway? Christ on a pogo stick, consistency is all I ask for. Oh and of course NOW they realize Sam is gone. Because they finally put together that their daily luxuries they took for granted are no longer available.

Hey now, Talus. You all are guilty of being terrible friends. In fact yu are so terrible, you would make Twilight Sparkle vomit at the sight of yours. Also, why of all characters are you wearing a costume? Unlike those two bitches, you still had clean clothes on a few pages ago. Speaking of bitches, Atea in the middle panel looks readyto be edited in a cumshot video. Just saying for all those “creative” editors out there.

YAY! Lets get our slave back so he can do all the stuff we care about but do not want to do.

Seriously, if Dobson tries to convince us they want to get him back because they care for him as a person, he fails miserably. Both by the choice of wording in this page, where Atea and Talus react angrier about the fact that without Sam things don’t work smoothly, rather than concern about his well being, as well as any behavior expressed in the previous chapter. These people are not reacting like friends in worry, they act like spoiled brats. Especially Talus who could still get his stupid burgers if he, as the cook of the crew, would just do his job. All he has to do is additionally open a few cabinets. Also, where in the heck is Uncle Peggy? Oh just go to the next pages so we are getting this over with.

Oh great, the lolcat pirates are back. Because they were so hilarious the first time. And look, they got defeated again. And what is their contribution to the story? To give information on where Sam may have gone.

And it is here now where I have to stop and come back to the pacing issue. Cause the last ten pages here? They are a good example of what I meant with rushed pacing and how it ruins things.

Once more I need to say, I get it. I get the major points Dobson wants to get across. That a) Sam is gone that b) without him things are not all that good for the crew anymore c) they decide they want to find him d) they get information of where he is by going after the one feline that can provide a potential hint. Four major story points Dobson wants to get across. And he is free to get them across. But the way he does it, is just way too fast. Neither the characters, nor the reader really gets time to comprehend that Sam is gone and what that means aside of the surface level loss of luxury Alex and Co are now experiencing. The emotional weight of Sam’s “loss” is pushed aside for the sake of cruising through the plot defined by its surface premise, as fast as possible. And considering that the meat of this story is supposed to be how much Sam means to the others as a person as well as his personal tragedy, intend and execution, thanks to this pacing, does not compute.

Pacing and overall structure are way off and fail to engage us in addition to just killing any suspense in what is going to happen next or surprise us in an interesting fashion. In other words, I am not entertained by this story. It is not funny, it is not sad, it is not “adventurous”.

Personally, I would suggest to actually use the “premise” of those ten pages and turn them at least into two independent chapters of this story overall, to give the premise actually some meat on the bone. The first chapter being a multipager with the crew realizing Sam is gone first BEFORE realizing that without him their luxuries are gone (putting also emphasize this way on the fact they care for Sam also more as a person instead of just the things he does for them) and then once they realize he is missing, deciding to go after him. Only to realize that when they want to prepare themselves for the task (getting their gear together as well as lunch e.g.) that everything is dirty or damaged because Sam normally takes care of it. Leading to a sequence of them having to experience doing Sam’s work for once, making them already there indirectly in part realize what he all does they took for granted.

The second chapter would then be them on the sea, trying to think of where to look at and eventually stumbling upon the cat pirates. Only instead of defeating them easily this time and getting the information, expectations are subverted and the cats actually fight back first, leading to a more hilarious confrontation where Alex and her crew can actually also show how they can be funny and badass, instead of Dobson just always “talking” and trying to convince us they are cool. And look, I do not expect a multi chapter One Piece like battle against the cat captain who turns out to be a master of Scratch Jutzu or something the moment he sniffs catnip. But please, give me something in this story. Some conflict, some diversion, something for characters to actually do that shows they can be badass, funny and awesome. Something that is as cartoony as Dobson likes to claim Alex ze Pirate is, but has never shown in its entirety.

Instead we get to this page, where of all characters Talus is the one who finally seems to realize how he and others took Sam for granted.

And again, even this page is a good example of terrible pacing. Cause this realization, now shoved in within this and the next page? It would mean so much more if it happened in parts somewhere else in this story before or after, slowly to everyone stepwise. Cause then it would actually feel like a “development” of a chain of thoughts and internal realizations. Instead it is half heartedly thrown in all at once in those pages, to get the point across that NOW Sam’s “friends” finally realize, they took him always for granted.

Congratulations on realizing that you are the real scum in this story. What do you expect from me now? To give you hugs and feel pity for you like you are characters in Steven Universe, all because you had an epiphany? You do not deserve mine or any readers sympathy, just because NOW you feel bad for your terrible behavior. Cause if I did, it would just feel rewarding in a certain manner. And you do not deserve a reward. You have to make things up first or at the very least put in some sort of effort to show me, that you are not just feeling bad, but are willing to change for the better. Otherwise you are in the future still just the same toxic abusers you were two pages ago.

... man, that really felt like me already venting at Steven Universe.

Anyway, we have reached the town where Sam is from…

And it looks NOTHING at all like the artwork from Legends implied parts of the town to look like

Where are the badly drawn docks? The houses that imply this is not just a small village on the beach but an actual small town? The twon square where they sell underaged boys as slaves? Jesus Christ, what is the orphanage going to look li-

Nevermind. The orphanage is crushed. And all the people that lived in it are dead.

... WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU, DOBSON! This is genuinely a sick joke here. Look, I am all for black and dark comedy myself, but this feels cruel. I need to remind you, Alex ze Pirate in Dobson’s eyes was also meant to be a comic for all ages. Meaning something also little kids should be able to read and enjoy. Pushing aside how much of that would be bullshit by the shitton of sexist and sex jokes in other strips of the comic alone, this here is not the kind of joke I would like to see a little kid being exposed to when reading any form of story.

Look, I am not saying you can’t make fun about death. But Death is also a major part of life, which many of us are already being exposed to at an early age. And I think it is important that when we talk about death as a subject in a story for kids, we should actually address it in a “mature” manner the kid may understand. That death, as in the genuine loss of a life and not e.g. an awesome interpretation of the Grim Reaper as written by Terry Pratchett, is tragic. That it means permanently losing someone you or someone else loves. That when talking about it, we should talk about it in a serene manner. And there have been great kids stories who tackled the subject directly or indirectly. A Land Before Time for example, the loss of Littlefoots mother and how he “copes” with it while the majority of the plot still focuses on an adventure to find the Great Valley… that is great. But this thing here that Dobson does? To create a shocking revelation and then sell it as a joke based on the fact that Alex, Atea and Talus react with jawdrops to it? It is not handling the death of those children with any form of gravitas in a story that supposedly is meant to be emotional and play with your heartstrings. And yes, we know nothing about those kids, they are essentially non entities to further the plot. But in context of the story, you have to consider, those kids that are “unimportant” to the reader? For the character of Sam, those people were family. At page 14, we as readers start to realize what Sam finding this locket and going back to his hometown only to find out everyone he knew is dead must mean for him. We, people with even an ounce of empathy and understanding how tragedies should be in part written realize, that shit just hit the fan for Sam and that the story should genuinely focus on how Sam would deal with such a tragedy. But does Dobson treat this revelation with any grace or dignity? NOPE!

It is just a bunch of information dropped on us randomly by an old guy who (I guess similar to Dobson) does not even care that kids died. They are just a plotdevice. Oh and also most of those kids died of an infectious disease where most people die of dehydration after literally shitting non stop. Just to add additional gravity and dignity to the loss of prepubescent lives that should count as Sam’s siblings.

You know, I have to change my opinion on Alex. She is not the worst abuser of Sam. The worst person to ever abuse Sam is Andrew Dobson himself. Cause at least Alex did not kill his extended “family”. And to think this “children comic” was written by the same guy who made a “So you are a Cartoonist” strip where he talked about how kids media can tell more mature comics with more gravitas than live action stuff and novels meant for people that aren’t just children, young adults or mentally stucked manchildren. Dobson, after this page you have no right to call your stuff “appropriate for children” or mature anymore.

I am genuinely furious at this page right now as that I can go on. So here, have the last page of this chapter so I can wrap this up and enjoy some good forms of fiction…

Well Atea, everyone he knew from this village and potentially cared about died in an house collapsing with no one having removed the remains still and he is going on a cemetery. UNLIKE DOBSON WHEN WRITING THIS, USE YOUR BRAIN YOU INSULT TO LESBIANS!

#Andrew Dobson #adobsonartwork #syac #alex ze pirate #sam the cabin boy #fuck you tom preston #tom preston #webcomic #comics #comic review #talus #atea #loss #so you are a cartoonist

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

what a lion cannot manage chp 3

Ao3 | chp 1 | chp 2 | chp 3 | chp 4

Her first thought—after screaming, of course—is that she needs to go tell Kacchan right now. She just found out something big and insane and Kacchan would want to know too.

She curbs that desire before it can go anywhere.

This is huge, yes, and she doesn't want to keep this from Kacchan but it’s also not her secret to tell. All Might- Yagi hadn’t wanted her to know. Otherwise, he would have told her.

But he didn’t. She figured it out accidentally instead.

Ugh.

How is one supposed to deal with figuring out their idol’s secret identity? How is someone supposed to deal with having known their idol for months without actually knowing and she just… Izumi has so many emotions about this.

All his nervousness whenever she brought up All Might makes so much sense now and, oh kami. She’s gushed about him to his face. Just have Kacchan explodo-kill her now. It’ll be a mercy.

How is she supposed to face Yagi now? What is she going to tell him?

She keens, low and long and distressed, in the silence of her room.

It probably says a lot about her general existence that it’s that and not the scream that brings Aoi crashing through her door with a worried expression.

***

The next three days pass in a daze for Izumi.

It’s only by the grace of everyone thinking she’s just upset over Yagi-san that she gets through it. Which, she means, they aren’t technically wrong. But not for the reasons they think.

She misses him like an ache in her chest but it’s her mind that’s the problem.

Aligning the image of the Great Savior All Might, their Symbol of Peace and model by which all great Heroes strive to follow, with her dorky, awkward Yagi who spends his free time telling corny jokes is just… disorienting. It makes both too much and absolutely zero sense.

How can one person be so different and yet so similar at the same time?

She can tell she’s starting to get on Kacchan’s nerves with all her fidgeting and not-quite muttering. He’s taken to knocking her on the head when she spirals too far or when he needs her attention. Sometimes, she can even catch him frowning at her out of the corner of her eye.

It’s the same look he uses when unraveling complicated chemical equations.

She wishes she could just tell him, could share her worries and fears and concerns but she can’t. Instead, she smiles and begs him to take her to the bakery on main street until he gets irritated enough to stop trying to figure out why she’s upset.

***

Her and Yagi talk near every day. Even if it’s only a few texts with hours between responses.

It had taken him two days in the beginning to call her. Days she now knows were probably busily filled with whatever All Might business he’d been pushing off to be here, but at the time she thought he’d been avoiding her. She’d been scared to reach out, hesitant to make the leap as doubts filled her mind.

But after, it was as if the floodgates opened. Calls and texts and video chats were exchanged as often as possible, the pair reaching out with the same vigour they had when they were right next to one another.

He’s slow to answer texts sometimes, and video chats are often hastily rescheduled with little notice but Izumi understands. He’s busy. He’s All Might, after all. She can’t fault him for saving people.

What kind of Hero would that make her if she did?

***

For all the talking they do, Izumi never actually brings up him being All Might.

It’s not like she’s trying to hide it, but it just… never seems like the right time. It’s not a conversation to have on the phone, she thinks.

And it’s not like she’s going to tell anyone, so it’s probably fine, right? She’s just waiting until she sees him in person again, until his next visit. It’s a delicate situation that requires a certain level of finesse that you can’t get over the phone, is all.

Not because Izumi is terrified that she’d accidentally betrayed his trust too much to come back from and he’ll never speak to her again if he finds out so she’s trying to prolong her time with him for as long as possible.

Certainly not that.

***

Izumi opens the door right as Katsuki raises his fist to pound on the wood with all the aggression to be found in his boyish body. His fist halts mid-air, almost punching her in the eye.

He scowls at her. “I hate when you do that.”

She grins at the stutter in his heartbeat they both know she can hear. They both know he thinks it’s cool though he’s never said it.

“Did you need something, Kacchan?” she asks instead of pointing that out. He only gets grumpier when she acknowledges those kinds of things.

“What kind of stupid question is that? We’re going to the park, idiot. Or did you forget?”

Izumi thinks back over the last couple days. Katsuki never asked her to go to the park.

She decides not to point that out either.

“Let me grab my notebook.”

“Whatever. Just hurry the fuck up!”

“Language!” someone calls from inside the house. Katsuki automatically flips them off despite not being able to see them or vice versa. She finishes pulling on her shoes and pushes him off down the street before he can get into another screaming match with Uncle Kyo.

“We’re going to the park!” she yells into the house, raising her voice for the benefit of the humans’.

“Have fun, sweetheart!” her mom says from the upstairs along with a chorus of other well wishes from everyone else.

***

Izumi will be the first to admit she has a bit of a skewed metric for what most people consider ‘normal.’ Katsuki’s not that far behind her, she thinks, but Kami forbid she tell him that.

Exhibit A: most kids come to the park to play in the jungle gym or build sandcastles. Izumi and Katsuki… do not do that.

“Kacchan, you’re putting too much strain on your joints!” Izumi calls from where she’s perched along the bar on top of the swingsets, balanced in a way one can only achieve with a tail for a counterweight. “Try bending your elbow more!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, damn nerd!” he shouts, vaulting over the balance beam. “I don’t need your fucking help!”

His heartbeat doesn’t stutter—both because it’s going to fast for it to and what he said isn’t really a lie anyway.

His arms still loosen up, because he knows she’s right and her advice has never been about him needing it.

The new angle should lessen the stress on his elbows but it’s going to make him sore quicker. Izumi makes a note about looking up exercises to help strengthen the muscles in his arms and shoulders in the corner of the page.

For the last month or so, Katsuki’s been all but brimming with excess energy. He’s barely able to sit still in the classroom anymore and seems angrier than ever. He’s even been suspended from the wrestling team for one too many displays of aggression. He still does kickboxing every other day but it’s not quite cutting it.

Izumi’s taken to pulling him out to the track at lunchtime to let him run out whatever energy he can but it’s not enough. The first few hours after school and weekend mornings have become dominated by Katsuki dragging her into the forest to jog up the hiking trails or to the park for her to set up increasingly difficult obstacle courses for him.

Like today.

He’ll keep going until he’s dead on his feet, she knows, refusing to stop until he hits a wall of exhaustion and she has to half-drag, half-carry him back home.

It’s really starting to worry her, watching him work himself into the ground for no discernable reason. But he won’t talk to her about it.

She’s not sure if he’s embarrassed or prideful or some other self-important reason he’s come up with, but it all comes out to the same thing: Izumi floundering around to help treat the symptoms of the sickness Katsuki won’t talk about.

She can’t even yell at him about keeping secrets from her because all that would do is piss him off and make her a hypocrite.

They both know Izumi keeps things from him, has secrets she can’t and won’t share with him (secrets that burn at the base of her throat, that keep building in number despite her best efforts).

One day they’re going to fight about that. It’s all she can do to push it off until tomorrow.

***

Izumi gets good at reading between the lines during her time talking with Yagi.

She’d already been good, in an unpolished fox-born-affinity kind of way. But having to parse through Yagi’s heavily edited daily schedules makes her better.

He’s good at lying without lying. Dancing around issues and straight-up avoiding others. She can see how he’s kept his identity a secret for so long.

It means Izumi has to be sneaky about her questioning. Has to do more than just not be obviously worried after she’d watched some two-bit villain throw him through a wall and oh kami, what about his side? Why isn’t he in the hospital?

She watches All Might fights with something rapidly approaching anxiety these days. Flinches at hits more than she cheers for his wins.

Kacchan notices because he’s far more observant than most people give him credit for.

He’s agitated by it as far as she can tell. Takes an almost personal offence to her worry over the number one hero, which is more than a little confusing for her.

Sure, he’s still a bit touchy about the whole ‘letting people help and worry about him’ thing but Izumi’s never seen him apply that hang-up to another person. Much less All Might.

Every time she wrings her hands at a TV screen or bites her lip while reading an article, Kacchan’s face twists like he swallowed a lemon. She wants to ask about it but is half-convinced it might be related to that other issue he won’t talk to her about, so she doesn’t. For now, at least.

Her temporary solution of waiting until Kacchan calms down just enough that she can tackle-hug him without being immediately thrown off is working well enough anyway.

***

Izumi remembers the first time she told Katsuki she wanted to be a hero, back when he was still all sharp edges and blistering palms. When it seemed like he’d never settle into his skin or breathe without the weight of all the expectations he’d placed on himself.

Before, even, the time she crawled back down a tree to meet the angry words of “why do you do that?”

He’d told her he was going to be a better hero than All Might and Izumi had brightened like he’d hung the stars. Her mouth was halfway around a rambling tirade about saving the day and helping people when he’d laughed. Harsh and cruel.

It stopped Izumi in her tracks.

“How are you gonna be a hero?” he taunts, nose raised in superiority. “All you can do is hear and smell stuff from far away! How are you supposed to fight anyone with a quirk like that?”

This isn’t the first time someone has said this to Izumi, and she doubts it will be the last. That’s the nature of the secret she keeps.

There is indignation in her chest. It is not new.

The anger though? That’s new. She’s never been truly angry at the townspeople before.

It hadn’t been so personal before. It doesn’t matter that she’d only known this boy for a few short weeks, he was hers. The winds whispered it to her, the pounding of the earth demanded it.

The townspeople are kind and friendly and hers in the detached way all innocents are hers, but Katsuki is different—is supposed to be different. Izumi does not know how many Protectors walk the earth, but Katsuki is the first she’d found and that means something whether either of them know it or not.

Her mouth twists into a frown. “Quirks aren’t everything.”

And they aren’t. She knows that, has known it since she sent Daiki to the nurse’s office in third grade.

Izumi has her teeth and her claws, has her mind and a viciousness born of the chaos at her center. She has magic, something so few people know how to wield these days.

And past that? Her Nona remembers the time before quirks, remembers their birth and the riots it started. The hatred. Izumi’s grown on stories and tales of the time before quirks. Of the great feats humanity made with nothing but their hands and minds.

It’s not quirks that make humans special. It never was.

Katsuki, arrogant and prideful and still so young, doesn't agree. Doesn’t understand.

“They hell they’re not!” he laughs and it’s a mocking sort of sound that makes tears prick at her eyes. “You only say that because yours is weak.”

“No!” she shouts. Her voice cracks and her breath heaves from her lungs like she can’t get enough air but she shouts anyway. “I’m not weak. I’m not less than you! You’re just being a bully and mean and that’s not how a hero acts!”

Katsuki pushes her to the ground and she’s sobbing now because the wind whispers to her and she knows, she knows, deep in her chest, that this is important. That there’s a crossroads here and it will change everything if she picks wrong.

“All Might wins and smiles and is kind and you’ll never be like him if you act like a bully!” she yells through her tears. Glares at him from her spot on the ground, through her tears and pain and hope and she thinks no. Not this time. Not him. Not here.

Izumi plants her hands on the ground, her knees dirty and face red, and she stands back up as tall as she can, chin tilted in defiance. She’s a whole head shorter than him and looks a sorry sight with all her tears but she stands before her friend, the boy that Fate Herself decreed would walk at her side until the very end, and she glares.

Greek fire against boiling pools of blood and she doesn’t bother to flinch. She won’t bend for this.

She will bend and bend until she breaks for so many things but not for this. For this, she will be stone or she will shatter.

“You’re not supposed to be mean,” she says firmly, honestly. “If you keep looking down on everyone, you’re only going to be sad and angry and alone. If you can’t see that, you’re not gonna get better and you won’t grow.”

He looks like she slapped him. Stricken and utterly still and furious but she doesn't care.

She’s not weak. Power is an old friend of hers and the world will shake beneath her feet. Izumi will grow up and she will be mighty.

Not even her precious Kacchan can tell her she can’t.

***

It was that moment, she thinks, that truly changed his path. Her inability to let him ruin himself for the sake of his pride.

If she was kinder, less selfish perhaps, she might have let him grow into it himself. Let him make mistakes and learn from them and lean on others for those life lessons.

But she is not and she didn’t. Instead, she shoved him into lessons he was not meant to learn yet for years to come. Instead, she robbed him of his growth and cheapened it because she could not live with him hating her. Because she couldn’t bear to live in a world where he thought her small.

She only hopes that when he realizes what she did, he doesn’t hate her for it.

***

Katsuki knows there’s something strange about his best friend. He’d have to be blind, deaf and fucking moronic to not have noticed.

But, well. Weird shit happens all the time in this town. People do weird shit all the time in this town.

Spirit traps hang from every eve. The crows are smarter here than anywhere else. No one walks through the crossroads at the center of town. People carry salt in their pockets and iron jewellery on their wrists. Half the deaths in town are unexplained.

Something’s weird with his best friend, but then, he thinks, something’s weird with everyone.

He gets used to what he can and pointedly ignores the rest. It’s whatever. It’s not like it really affects him .

Until it does.

***

Katsuki starts seeing things from the corners of his eyes.

Shadows that move and pockets of air that shimmer like hot asphalt. Things that aren’t really there and faces that terrify him even when he can’t remember why. Voices just at the edge of his hearing and feelings he can’t explain.

A bunch of weird things that don’t mean anything and definitely don’t make him jumpy or paranoid.

So what if he starts keeping a dreamcatcher above his bed or good luck charms in his pockets? Or if he starts flicking his bedroom light on and off three times before actually turning it off at night?

That no one’s business but his own. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t really know why he does it. He doesn't need to explain himself to anyone.

It’s nothing.

At least, until he has to stop looking at Izu head-on because when he does, he gets so dizzy he wants to vomit. Or when there’s suddenly three times as many people in town with familiar green hair that make his vision swim just to look at, and weird, overly large foxes running at the edge of the forest.

***

There’s a door in his house that wasn’t there that morning.

It’s in one of the basement hallways, tucked away in a corner and when Katsuki stares at it, it gives him the same ‘headache behind the eyes’ feeling as all the new broccoli-tops running around town.

A normal person would be unnerved and confused by all the fuckery going on. This has horror movie written all over it, with Katsuki starring front and center to get demonically possessed.

Katsuki glares at the door before barging his way through it without fanfare.

Being unnerved is for losers who never get shit done and any two-bit demon that thinks they can control him will be in for one hell of a surprise. Namely, his fist up whatever the equivalent of their ass is.

***

The door opens up into a stairway that leads to a secret second basement containing a library filled with books and the weirdest shit Katsuki has ever seen in his life.

He plucks a book from the shelf at random, opens to a page in the middle and skims over the overly fancy handwriting.

His blood freezes at what he reads.

***

At eleven years old, Katsuki is filled to bursting with energy and jittering nerves like something in his gut was building and building and building and-

There are things hidden in shadows and the darkness, things with teeth and too many eyes and rules he doesn’t understand but should because they’re all so familiar, why does he-?

There’s a library under his house filled with things that shouldn’t exist and knowledge that belongs in folktales and fantasy books but Katsuki knows it’s true because something in his mind has clicked into place like it was always meant to and suddenly he can see-

He sits at a table surrounded by books and Katsuki reads and learns and his thoughts spin faster and faster and confusion fades to a muted sort of horror and understanding. He feels bile rise in his throat because, oh kami, he didn’t- this wasn’t- he doesn't want to know-

At eleven years old, Katsuki learns about the supernatural and yōkai and all that hides behind the veil and he grows sick because he’s not stupid. He can see now and the books before him are filled with insane things but they’re all real. His best friend is yōkai, is a fox.

And Katsuki’s family has spent generations hunting them.

***

“I think Kacchan’s avoiding me.”

Yagi blinks at her through the screen. “Hello to you too, my dear.”

“Sorry, yes. Hi, Yagi! I miss you lots,” she babbles quickly before going back to the problem at hand. “Kacchan’s avoiding me and I don’t know why.”

Yagi hums thoughtfully even as his mouth twitches with amusement. “Are you sure that’s what he’s doing? Hiding doesn't sound like the Young Bakugou.”

“It’s not hiding,” she defends on instinct, then bites the end of her thumb. “But I don’t know what else it would be. He’s acting… acting a lot like he did when we were first friends. How he only interacted with me when he had to.”

“Now that definitely doesn’t sound like Young Bakugou,” Yagi half-heartedly teases, starting to look worried on behalf of Izumi. “Have you, perhaps, spoken to him about it?”

Izumi gives him a look like he’s just told her he thinks the sky is orange.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“You don’t just spring emotional conversations on Kacchan, Yagi,” she says, looking almost scandalized. “He’ll get hives or something.”

Yagi, for his part, only covers his mouth with his hand instead of slamming his face into the desk or bursting into laughter at her misery. That’s what Aoi did when Izumi asked her for advice, the unhelpful jerk.

“If that’s so, then I’m sure you just need to give him time. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

It’s not the advice Izumi wanted to hear because she’d already figured that and she’s far from a patient person. But, she also knows he’s right.

“Yeah, maybe,” she sighs unhappily. Then, she plants her elbows on the table. “So how’s work going? Are your coworkers teasing you again?”

Yagi pulls a face like he’s trying to be long-suffering but it hits too close to amused and fond. “They always are, my girl. Always.”

***

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Kacchan was just waiting for her to get anxious enough to blab to Yagi before he put her out of her misery. It’s a reliable way to gauge how big of a problem she thinks something is, seeing as she doesn’t like adding more things to Yagi’s already overflowing plate.

It was almost anti-climactic considering all the horrible things Izumi had been imagining. But, in her defense, it was her and Kacchan. Neither of them ever did anything by halves.

He corners her after school and pulls her down one of the hallways no one goes down. She’s so relieved that he’s actually looking at her and not pretending she doesn’t exist that she doesn’t even care when he crams her between him and the corner where the end of the lockers meet the wall, effectively boxing her in.

Her mouth is already halfway around a question, ready to start speaking at a thousand miles an hour without giving him a chance, but he beats her to it.

“I know.”

Her mouth snaps shut in her confusion. Her head tilts. “Know what?”

His eyes are boring into hers, the first time he’s looked her in the eye in… she doesn't even know. A month? It was before he started avoiding her entirely at least.

She watches as slowly, purposefully, his eyes flick to the top of her head.

She’s still confused. Is there something wrong with her hair? Her ears flick in impatience, waiting for him to just tell her-

His eyes follow the movement.

Her ears stand straight up, panic coursing through her and his eyes follow that too. He can see.

He can see.

“You’re a fox,” he says and it’s not a question. “A Shual Nephesh, right?”

Behind her eyes, her mind spins and whirls like a hurricane. Moving so much faster than everyone around her, a mess of plans and paths and actions laid before her like a prophecy of her own choosing.

She stares into his eyes, into glittering pools of blood, and sees the nervousness hidden there behind the arrogance and bluster. She sees the wariness and the confusion. But no fear. No hatred.

Izumi takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and makes a decision.

“We need to talk to Nona.”

***

Everyone’s surprisingly calm about Katsuki being in the know.

Most of the adults give her an almost disappointedly exasperated look before she explains he has the Sight which is what gave them away. Which… rude. Sure, she’s been wanting to tell Kacchan for years but that doesn’t mean she would. Not when Nona gave a direct order.

She can get away with a lot but not even she would test such a boundary. Though, by the looks, she’s almost sure she could’ve. Interesting. A thought for later.

They almost get through it all without a major incident.

That is, until Kacchan opens his mouth and drops a bigger bomb than him being the first person in a hundred years to figure them out.

“There’s something else you should know.” He’s shuffling his feet next to her and if Izumi didn’t know any better she’d think he’s worried. But about what?

Her Nona raises her brow at him. “And that is?”

“My Mom’s maiden name was Takanashi.”

Oh.

Yeah. That’ll do it.

***

They try to make her leave the room.

Izumi snorts and latches onto Kacchan's arm, staunchly refusing to let go. You don’t spend almost four years as Bakugou Kastuki’s best friend without picking up at least a few of his brattier habits. Such as his problem with doing things he doesn’t want to.

Izumi knows what hunters are, knows to be wary of them the same way all yōkai are. She knows who the Takanashi Clan are too, knows they’re the reason her skulk is hidden away on their own land even if no one will tell her why or what they did.

Learning that Katsuki, her best friend, is a Takanashi? A descendant of the same people who cursed her skulk? Her born enemy?

Well.

Izumi’s not quite as upset as she supposes she should be.

It’s just that, it’s still Kacchan isn’t it? The same boy they’ve all know for years? Nothing’s really changed. He can’t help the family he was born into and it’s not like he’s ever threatened them or was even likely to do so.

She doesn’t understand why everyone’s throwing a fit.

After a long five minutes of people yelling and being unnecessarily dramatic—distantly, Izumi wonders if this is how her classmates feel around her and Kacchan—she decides enough is enough.

She shares a look with Aoi, one of the few people not making a big deal out of this, along with her mother and Nana Naoki. Aoi understands what she needs without speaking.

A sharp whistle pierces the air. Loud and shrill enough to make even the humans wince in pain.

It’s quiet almost immediately, and Izumi grins even as the adults glare at them.

This is why Aoi is her favourite.

“Thank you,” she smiles, then turns back to Kacchan, patting his forearm. “You can keep talking now.”

***

Everyone’s staring at him.

Adults who are older than they look and far more powerful all have their attention on him.

Nona—Midoriya Asuka, the Matriarch—is standing before him, perfectly poised with all five of her tails fanned out behind her. She doesn’t look older than forty even though he knows she has to be more than two hundred. Her silver eyes bore into him and he’s almost positive she’s exactly what Izu will look like in however many years. Powerful aura and all.

He can taste ozone in the air and knows that it won’t matter that he’s known most of these people for years. It won’t matter that he and Izu are practically inseparable or that Inko is as much his mom as she is Izu’s and vice versa with his own parents.

One wrong move and he doesn’t think he’ll leave this room.

He can’t even say he’d blame them. He doesn’t know exactly what his family did to them, but he knows it wasn’t good. Knows it forced them into hiding. Them, Shaalim Nephashoth. These great, powerful beings who should be neatly sat at the top of the yōkai food chain, just under the Kami Themselves and Nephilim.

So, Katsuki does what he always does when faced with a challenge. Raises his chin and charges forward. Failure isn’t an option and Katsuki sneers at the very idea.

He needs them to trust him which means he needs to prove he can be trusted.

There’s a reason he spent so long holed up in that damned library, paging through books that made him queasy to look at. He had to get this right.

He locks eyes with the Midoriya Matriarch and speaks, clear and with as much authority as he, a boy still a few months from twelve years, can muster.

“I, Bakugou Katsuki, renounce my ties to the Takanashi Clan by witness of the earth, moon and stars. The grudges of my ancestors are not my own and no secrets held by the Midoriya Skulk will pass my lips.” His hands flex at his sides and he takes a deep breath. “I walk this path with you, not against you. I swear it.”

He can feel the metal and magic curling it’s way around his wrist, so similar to the one he can now see on Izu's. He doesn’t look at it, too busy holding the Matriarch’s gaze and awaiting her judgement.

It’s tense for a few long seconds and the smell of ozone grows almost overwhelming. He doesn’t dare to even breathe.

And then… she blinks. Her eyes are a warm green rather than gunmetal silver and something like approval rests there.

“Very well. Your oath is accepted, young Seer. I, and that of my skulk, hold no ill will toward you.”

His breath wooshes out of him and he thinks he hears laughter at the edges of the room.

Nona—because that’s who she is again, not the Matriarch—turns her head towards Izu behind him. “You’ve chosen a good one.”

Izu latches onto his arm and Auntie Inko comes up on his other side to thread her fingers through his hair.

“I know,” she says proudly.

***

It falls to Izumi to explain everything, even though it probably shouldn’t have.

Katsuki, unsurprisingly, came in with a good chunk of knowledge. For all that he’s an easily lit fuse, he’s not one to disregard an advantage. And for this situation? Knowledge was the only one he had.

Izumi kindly but firmly corrects any of the stereotypes or misconceptions his source material gave him, which was surprisingly few. The Takanashi’s bestiary was unexpectedly unbiased, it seemed.

Katsuki still looks a bit shaken from having his entire worldview turned upside down and exhausted by all the things he’s learned, so they call Mitsuki and Masaru and tell him he’s going to stay the night. It’s a bit odd, because Katsuki has never set foot in her house before, much less spent the night, but the magic settled around them means that the Bakugous don’t question it. Izumi’s spent more than enough nights at their house, so as far as they're concerned, this is normal.

It isn’t, but they aren’t going to tell them that.

Her and Kacchan build a pillow fort in the middle of her room. Kacchan starfishes out, taking up as much space as possible while Izumi curls tightly into a ball and tucks herself up against the crook of his flung out arm.

“I was pissed, you know,” he says into the darkness, apropos of nothing. It’s still dark outside and they’d be getting up for breakfast soon if they had ever gone to bed in the first place. “Absolutely furious that you kept something this big from me. I thought you- I figured that you were so damn powerful and that you’ve just spent the last four years laughing at me.”

Izumi jolts, lifting her head to stare at him in a mixture of surprise and horror. “Kacchan, I would never-”

“I know,” he cuts her off. “I know. It took me reading two more pages to figure that out. That you weren’t hiding because it was fun.”

“I wanted to tell you,” she insists and it’s true. She hated lying to Kacchan. It was just so fundamentally wrong to lie to him. But this wasn’t like with her name. This wasn’t a secret she could just do with as she wished. It affected more than just herself and she couldn’t risk her skulk the same way she’s willing to risk herself.

She doesn’t really know how to tell him that though.

“I’m still angry, and- and I hate that you could keep a secret this big from me but I… I don’t hate you.”

Izumi nods, because that’s fair.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises.

He snorts, knocking the back of his fist against her forehead. “Damn well better, loser. I expect you to be waiting on me hand and foot for the next month.”

She grabs his wrist, because he’s always so fussy about his hands and the dangers associated thereof, and draws designs into it with the tip of her fingers, just under his binding.

Kacchan harrumphs but doesn't pull away and she has to smother her smile. “Of course, O Great King Bakugou,” she teases. “I am but your loyal servant.”

“Good,” he says haughtily and she doesn't have to look at him to hear the smirk in his voice. “My first order will be that you have to clean my room for me tomorrow.” He pauses. “Also, never call me ‘Bakugou’ ever again. That shit’s weird.”

Izumi gasps. “I knew you liked the nickname!”

“Eat shit and die.”

It’s not a denial and Izumi can't stop herself from chirping happily. Even when it prompts him into trying to smother her with a pillow.

***

Katsuki’s gotten good at interpreting Izumi’s moods over the years.

She’s an open book—unlike him—and you’d think that would mean it’s easy to tell what she’s feeling but you would, of course, be wrong.

Sure she expresses herself freely and rarely tries to hide her emotions from anyone, but that means jack shit when half of them just get expressed as ‘start crying immediately’ anyway.

The amount of rage and frustration that first year had been, trying to understand her outbursts and anticipate them… Katsuki still winces at some of the following fights.

But the thing about Izu having a tail and ears, about him being able to see them now? It’s that it makes his job about two hundred percent easier. After a brief adjustment period where he has to relearn all her non-verbal signals with the inclusions of ears and a tail, he settles himself neatly at the top of the list of people who can read her like a book. Higher than, perhaps, even Auntie Inko.

It’s a surprisingly comforting thought. Especially since she’s been able to see through him for years now.

Turnabout's fair play and all that.

***

It’s two days later when Izumi sticks her head in through Kacchan’s window. It’s seven in the morning and they don’t have school today. She expects him to still be in bed but instead, he’s hunched over his desk doing ninth-grade level math they weren’t even assigned.

And he calls her the nerd.

“Hey, Kacchan!” she says brightly, grabbing his attention.

He whirls around, palms already sparking dangerously before he sees her at the window.

“Jesus fuck,” he snaps, glare chilling enough to curdle milk. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Izumi pouts at him, laying her chin on his window sill. “Aww. Kacchan that’s not nice.”

“I don’t give a damn.” He slouches back into his desk chair. Then, slowly he narrows his eyes at her, and by proxy, the window she’s leaning through. “How the fuck are you doing that?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, faux innocence.

The look he gives her is ten kinds of unamused. “I live on the second floor.”

“Yeah, so?” Izumi can practically see the steam slowly building in his ears. Smiling, she hoists herself up over the ledge with ease and front flips into the room, arms raised as she sticks the landing.

Kacchan kicks at her legs.

“I hate you,” he says to her form as she sprawls comfortably on the bed.

“Mhmm,” she hums dryly. “Nona sent me over to take inventory of your reliquary. I’m supposed to take whatever’s interesting and burn anything overly insulting.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, challenging.

“They figured I’d be the least conspicuous,” she pauses, pulling a face. “I’m also pretty sure it’s a test of some kind, but I’m not sure what about or why.”

Her only answer is a grunt.

“Now, come on and get dressed! We’ve got work to do.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps but turns around to grab jeans and a black t-shirt with the word ‘SMASH!’ written in red, white, and blue inside a comic book explosion. Idly, she thinks she could probably get that signed for him.

Five minutes later, Izumi descends the stairs with Kacchan in tow to eat breakfast. She tells the Bakugous good morning as she sits at the counter and they regard her with something like amused exasperation. Mitsuki offers to make her scrambled eggs instead of asking how she got into their house without their knowing.

Raising Katsuki taught them when to pick their battles. Meeting little Izumi, who’s as crafty as she is sweet, only served to cement that lesson.

***

The second she steps into the reliquary, her nose wrinkles. Not just at the number of books she’s going to have to sort through—because seriously, were the Takanashis’ some kind of hoarders?—but also at the more… distasteful decorations.

Along the walls and placed on any open space are what Izumi can only assume are meant to be trophies.

Pixie wings pinned carefully onto boards, hollowed horns of more creatures than she can recognize, wings and teeth and claws laid out like cheap prizes. Selkie skins, harpy feathers, swan maiden coats, and wolf fur. Pelts of every color and kind are strung up like tapestries or thrown on the floor like rugs.

Izumi actually hisses when she catches sight of a honey gold foxtail placed in a display case.

There’s more, so much more, but she shuts her eyes and tries to breathe past the smell of death and rot and twisted, hungry magic blanketing the whole room.

She can feel Kacchan frowning at her, hears him shuffle a half step closer to her in an attempt at comfort. “Shoulda warned ya,” he says and it’s about as close to sorry as he gets.

“It’s fine,” she says. “When will your parents be gone?”

There’s a lot in here they need to get out and all of it are things his parents can’t see. Cursed objects in inadequate containers and more remains then she can count that deserve to be put to rest properly.

Kami, her skulk’s going to want to raise the Takanashis from their shallow graves just to kill them all over again when they see this.

“They’re going on a date tonight, actually. They’ll be gone for a couple hours.”

She nods and pulls out her phone to call the house and tell them. This was her job, and she’ll go through the books, but there’s no way she’s touching half the stuff in here without an expert telling her she can. She’s surprised the house hasn’t collapsed with how much malicious magic she can feel in here.

“What books did you already go through? We’ll sort those ones first.”

***

They spend hours down there, skimming through tomes and sorting them into ‘ acceptable’, ‘needs a more thorough read-through’, and ‘ just fucking burn it’ piles.

Nona, along with six of Izumi’s grandparents, arrive ten minutes after the Bakugous leave and their reaction to the reliquary is pretty spot on of what she expected. Which is as gratifying as it is mildly terrifying because she doesn’t think she’s ever seen her family so furious before.

Izumi and Katsuki, sometimes with the assistance of actual adults who should be doing this in the first place, make their way through all the books in about a week and a half. She’s actually kind of impressed with the amount that proved not to be total wastes of time.

She’s also, perhaps, a little bit surprised when she doesn’t catch anyone going back through the books and checking her work. No one questions her judgement.

Izumi isn’t sure what to make of that.

***

“So, is that why you and your family are so fucking weird?”

Izumi pauses, looking up from the collection of Edgar Allen Poe she was reading to stare at Kacchan who’s made himself more than comfortable on her bean bag chair. She tries to figure out what he’s trying to ask her but ultimately gives up.

“Huh?”

“Foxes,” he says like she’s stupid for not being capable of mindreading. “Are they all so fucking weird or is it just you guys?”

Izumi’s lips twist. “Most of the skulk are human.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes, flopping back against all the pillows he stole from her bed to make his throne. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I even tried.”

***

Yagi: Midoriya, my dear!

I’ve discovered a very interesting fact I think you’d enjoy

Me: oh?

what is it?

Yagi: Did you know french fries weren’t originally made in France?

Me: uh…

i guess ive never thought about it?

where were they invented?

Yagi: They were first cooked in GREECE!

Me: …

Yagi no

Yagi: HAHAHA!

Me: you have the lamest sense of humor

im going to tell everyone about your crime against jokes

Yagi: And I’m sure they will find it equally humorous!

Me: youre lucky i like you

Yagi: Of course my dear.

Me: b/c your puns are horrible

im half convinced you only helped me learn english so you can subject me to this

Yagi: That’s not very nice.

And I would NEVER

Me: mhmmm

are we still on for the skype call in an hour?

Yagi: I wouldn’t miss it.

Me: are you finally gonna tell me what the surprise is?

Yagi: Patience is a virtue, young Izumi.

Me: and sloth is a sin

come on! i’m super excited!

you’ve been hinting at it for like,,,, a week

Yagi: Quick-witted as always. Yes. I will be revealing my surprise finally.

Me: yay! :)

see you then!

Yagi: See you then, my dear.

#bnha #my typewriter #wlcm #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi

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