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taizi · 1 month

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because it’s his birthday, can I ask for some fluff for the sunshine boy himself 🥺🥺

thankfully his birthday fell on a sunday and i had some extra time !! <3 <3

read on ao3

It’s hard to pin Ace’s little brother down in a way that doesn’t fall short of the truth.

Summer boy, the villagers sometimes call him, but that’s not right. Luffy in the cold brittle heart of winter shines in exactly the same way he does the whole rest of the year.

Golden child, and it comes a little closer, but the connotations, Sabo will say, nose wrinkling at something he heard all too often from the soulless tutors his parents hired, aren’t all good.

Sunshine, Ace calls out once, not knowing he was going to say it until he did. Sabo blinked, taken by surprise. He turned to look at his twin, curiosity clear on his face along with a complete lack of confusion that was telling.

They both knew who he meant. Luffy knew it, too, and came running the way he always came running when one of his brothers called his name. There were leaves in his hair and scraggly flowering weeds crammed in his pockets and—always—a big smile on his face, bright and beaming.

It’s easy to complain about him because he makes it easy. Luffy is as low-maintenance as any little kid could be but he has an attention span so short you had to bend down to see it at all and he wouldn’t know how to stop talking if someone put a gun to his head.

Ace gripes about him all the time, and sometimes he really does get angry at him and lose his patience, but in his heart he would sooner die than live without him. Ace may groan and drag his feet on those days in July when the heat is at its peak and the rainforest is humid and muggy, but he wouldn’t really want the sun to go away. Not really.

They need that stupid thing. The world would be dark and cold and unlivable without it.

“Sunshine, huh?” Sabo says later that night, with Luffy a haphazard pile of rubber limbs sprawled bonelessly across his legs.

Ace runs hot, and the idea of his little brother’s deadweight pressing into him on an already warm evening makes him want to kick his feet restlessly. But Sabo carries a chill around with him that he inherited from that mausoleum of a mansion he grew up in. Sabo always manages to feel cold. He never minds when Luffy dogpiles on him, clinging with sticky rubber limbs so that Sabo couldn’t shove him off even if he wanted to.

Somehow, Luffy is the best at telling when Sabo gets cold. There’s no change in the air or the sky that gives it away—maybe Sabo is quieter than usual, though, or doesn’t laugh as much. So Luffy beelines for him, clambering over whatever or whoever is in his way until he can attach himself to his immediate older brother like a stubborn tree frog.

Sabo, patient and indulgent where Ace is anything but, smiles down at Luffy when he gets particularly clingy as if Luffy is the one doing him a kindness.

One day, the Celestial Dragons will come to Dawn Island and blow Sabo’s ship out of the water and blow a whole clean into Ace’s life, and his heart, and his future. He’ll understand then, that chill in Sabo’s house that stuck to him, that was never really about being cold as much as it was about needing warmth.

Ace runs hot, but sometimes he’ll pass beneath a cluster of the bright tropical birds Sabo liked best, or Makino will drop off a case of the snacks they would always clamor for not knowing they were Sabo’s favorites, and Ace won’t even realize he’s shivering until Luffy crashes into him and loops rubber arms around him over and over and over. The sun coming out after a storm—and it was always there, just behind the clouds, it was always going to come back out.

It will take Sabo’s departure for Ace to understand why he looked down at their sticky little brother like he wanted to thank him, he just didn’t know the right words.

For now, Ace scoffs, tossing a stick into the fire.

“Suits him, right? Annoying and gets in your eyes and follows you everywhere.”

Sabo laughs. Luffy turns his head towards the sound without waking, the way a flower unfolds in the morning light.

———

Law is familiar with loss. The weight of it feels like a coat he never managed to outgrow, one that he’s been dragging around since he was a child. Sometimes the shape of it changes. Sometimes it settles a little kinder on his shoulders, not quite so heavy. Sometimes he can almost forget he’s wearing it at all.

Eventually the grief becomes a thing you live with. Grow with. Something you unbox and sit with from time to time but know how to pack away again.

But when it’s brand-new it’s a shit-show.

Strawhat’s is outright destructive.

The kid breaks apart everything around him, trying to tear enough chunks out of the world that it feels even a fraction of the pain he’s in, and when that isn’t enough he moves onto tearing chunks out of himself.

When Jimbei hauls him out of the forest, trembling and too weak to stand and bleeding through his bandages, Law thinks I risked myself and my crew and my whole goddamn mission for nothing because Strawhat looks like he’s about to drop dead.

It was a shot in the dark in the first place, and the surgery was long and grueling and just barely on the right side of impossible even for the master of the Op Op Fruit. The only way Strawhat could live through it is if he wanted to.

Law understands loss. Law once sent himself on a suicide mission when he was barely more than three feet tall because his life was empty where it used to be so full and he couldn’t conceive of anything that could make it worth living again.

He also learned the hard way—the stubborn, gritted-his-teeth, fought-it-every-step-kicking-and-screaming way—that you can survive losing everything and come out the other side.

Cora-san showed him that other side. Cora-san carried him there, betraying and abandoning everything else, making a promise he knew was a lie because it was the kindest thing he could do.

“I love you,” he said, knowing as he said it that he would die because of it. Choosing to. There was no other choice he could make.

And somehow Law survived losing him on top of it all. It was a choice he had to make, too. One he still has to make, some days.

Fire Fist Ace died in about the worst way he possibly could have. He couldn’t have made it more traumatizing for Strawhat if he had actually tried. But it was an act of love like Cora-san’s. Protecting something more important to him than anything else with his own life, his own body.

If Strawhat Luffy survives, it will be because he wants to. Because he dug in his heels and put in the work and fought for it.

Jimbei sits him down on a bed in the recovery room, his deep, proud voice rumbling, “I’m going to find a blanket. You’re freezing.”

Strawhat hums as he leaves, eyes lined with red and puffy from crying. He studies the rust-stained bandages on his hands, flexes his fingers, and looks up at Law.

“I’m cold?” he says, like it’s a question.

It’s the first coherent thing he’s said since waking up that wasn’t just hopeless, helpless screaming for someone who would never answer him again. Law doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking, but he says, “Heat loss is normal after a surgery. You’ll be fine.”

There is a brightness to the younger supernova that draws the eye. A boldness that was apparent from the very first moment Law glimpsed him at that auction house in Sabaody. Something simple and magnificent at the same time.

Back then, Law looked at him and saw a stranger it might be worth it to take a chance on.

Now, despite himself, he sees someone young and hurt and far away from home.

He can’t be for this kid what Cora-san was for him. He can haul someone back from the brink of death but he can’t give them a reason to keep existing. There isn’t enough of himself left to carve out that kind of hope or kindness for someone else. There isn’t enough of himself left to even really want to.

All he has to offer is, “Shachi is making soup.”

“Sanji’s soup is better,” Strawhat announces with perfect authority, even though there is no way he could possibly know that, having literally never tried Shachi’s cooking before.

Law is too exhausted to feel anything but mildly annoyed. It’s enough of a return to what passes for normalcy that he leans in to begin checking the kid’s vitals.

Hand on Strawhat’s wrist, he says, “If you want Sanji’s soup so bad, go get it then.”

Strawhat tilts his chin up, defiant. His pulse thunders beneath Law’s fingers, like one or two or a dozen drums.

“I will!” he declares.

This is the boy who shot down the World Government flag at Enies Lobby, and attacked a Celestial Dragon while knowing what would come after, and stormed an impenetrable prison and then the front lines of a war, all for one person.

Each time, for just one person.

How stupid do you have to be?

How simple and magnificent, like looking up at the same sky you see every day and letting yourself be stunned into stillness by the endless, vivid blue?

By the time Jimbei comes back with a quilt under one arm, and a meal tray in the opposite hand, it’s a much livelier Strawhat Luffy who greets him.

The recovery room, sparse and sterile, is always a little cold. But as Law sits back in his chair and draws his newest patient’s baffling medical charts closer, the thought occurs, fleeting and insignificant, that it feels warmer than usual.

———

Someday, when the Gum Gum Fruit that was never actually the Gum Gum Fruit awakens into something spectacular and Luffy unlocks his fifth and final gear, his crew acclimates with startling quickness.

His crew, who sometimes had to squint when they looked at him, like they were staring at something high in the sky in the middle of a cloudless afternoon. His friends, who spent every day and night beside him and got used to it early on—the packed heat he put out like a little furnace, the way whatever room he was in would always get warmer when he laughed. His nakama, who loved him in all shapes, in all weather, from the beginning and all the way to the very end.

“Sun god, huh?” Zoro would say. Discarding a former truth and embracing this new one, as casually as every other impossible thing he had ever done. Future historians would be ripping their hair out, trying to make sense of what it could mean. According to legend, the pirate king’s first mate only said, “Sounds about right.”

But in this moment, in the underbelly of a colosseum, Luffy’s fruit is still just the silly, bouncy thing he ate when he was a little kid and there’s no reason to believe it will ever be anything else.

He’s wearing a costume that does nothing to hide his identity from the people who really know him.

He’s anxious and seems torn in two directions, wanting to help his friends but unwilling to leave his big brother’s fire in the hands of someone who wouldn’t use it the way Ace would want. It makes him short-tempered and quicker to pick a fight than usual, frowning at the stranger who approaches him so familiarly.

He’s the brightest thing for a thousand miles, the focal point of every room he walks into and the center of the galaxy, but not because of any fruit.

And looking at him, at his wide brown eyes and the curve of a smiling scar on his cheekbone, the chill in Sabo’s chest warms to nothing for the first time in twelve years.

His little brother, all things summer and golden and shining. Didn’t Ace say it best?

“Hi, sunshine,” Sabo says.

#op #one piece #asl bros #portgas d ace #monkey d luffy #revolutionary sabo #trafalgar d law #donquixote rosinante #my writing #opfic #wizardmafianinjapirate #a little offering for the future kings bday 👑

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arealphrooblem · 10 months

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A Lost Cause

Synopsis: The trusted keeper of all the Heroes' secrets, Civilian's existence is kept a tightly guarded secret itself. So how did the villain find her? And how will she withstand the attempts of his scientist to break her open and discover those secrets himself?

CW: nonconsensual drugging, medical whump, medical experimentation, mentions of wounds from torture

They ambushed her at one AM on a Wednesday night. She had just chugged a glass of water and was walking back towards her bedroom when five men appeared like plumes of smoke in the dim light of the living room lamp.

Immediately she smashed the glass on the head of the nearest one. He stumbled back and tripped over the corner of the coffee table, blood gushing down the side of his face. A second man got a donkey kick to the knees and an elbow to the face. But then she tripped on the baggy hem of her sleep pants and that gave the other three men all the opportunity they needed to hold her arms down and chloroform her.

When she woke up, mind foggy with cotton mouth, the familiar walls of her home had been replaced with metal. She sat tied to a chair and sitting across the metal table from her was a man she’d never seen before.

It wasn’t the why that perplexed her. Even though she never participated in the famous battles that raged across the cities of the world, or had her face blazoned on billboards, or plastered all over the news like the rest of her superhero brethren, she was the most valuable member of the team for one simple reason:

She knew everyone’s secrets.

Their real names and social security numbers. Their home addresses and family members. Their bank app passwords. The limitations of their powers and their weaknesses.

She knew these secrets because that was part of her job. She coordinated their lives. When someone got hurt, she arranged medical treatment. When the teammates that couldn’t fly had to go halfway around the world, she kept the private jet refueled and paid the maintenance crew. When someone’s family was in danger, she put them into hiding. She bought booked air bnb rooms under false names, she ran the grocery lists for their base, she made sure Mother’s day cards and birthday presents were sent on time.

Her teammates trusted her with this because she was a vault herself. Her power nullified everyone else’s in a wide radius around her. She had training in three forms of martial arts, could hack into almost any database around her and thus prevent from being hacked, and could shoot with fairly decent accuracy multiple types of guns.

And when all of that didn’t work, she had a memory palace like an ancient Greek maze that no telepath could find their way through if they ever caught her at a distance.

But the best protection she had was her anonymity. Her association with her teammates was their most highly guarded secret. So it wasn’t the why so much as the how.

How did Villain find her? How did he even know she existed?

Of course, no one was interested in answering her questions.

The man sitting across the table from her gave her a bemused half smile when she demanded this information. It gave him a boyish, non-threatening air despite the dark tinted sunglasses he wore.

“I’m afraid you have things rather backwards,” he said, voice soft and pleasant. Like they were on a coffee date. “I’m the one who gets the answers and you are the one who gets the questions.”

“You’re not getting shit from me,” she spat.

Her hands wiggled against the bonds tying her to the chair. The zip ties cut into her skin, tight enough that she worried about her circulation. If the man noticed her testing them out, he did not reveal it. Instead that half smile grew slowly into a smirk.

“I’m sure you believe that. You seem to have a very strong will. But willpower doesn’t really matter when I’m involved.”

He took his glasses off, folded them with care, and placed them with care inside his coat pocket. Brown eyes, sweet and warm like hot chocolate, looked back at her. He leaned forward, hands clasped before him, and focused those eyes on her.

“You will answer every question I ask, truthfully, with every relevant detail you can think of.”

His voice was low and soothing, with an easy confidence of someone used to getting their way. It gave her great pleasure to respond to him, leaning forward as much as her bonds would allow.

“You will go to hell,” she murmured, matching his tone, “and on the way there you can kiss my ass.”

The man tilted his head, eyebrows raised. Did he really think she was going to give him everything, just like that?

“Tell me your name,” he commanded in that same soft tone.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Surprise spread across his face. “Do you really feel no compulsion to do as I say?”

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” she retorted.

He just stared at her, eyes wide in delightful curiosity.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, pulling his glasses back out of his coat pocket. “Well, I suppose you and I are at an impasse. I could advise you give me your answers willingly, rather than face torture. But I assume you would not take that advice.”

“Your assumption would be correct.”

“A shame. You have such spirit. It’s a pity they will break it.”

Fear curled in her gut but she refused to let it show. “We’ll see about that.”

He slipped his glasses back on, hiding those sweet brown eyes. “When you feel like death would be a mercy, please remember that I tried to give you a choice.”

That line haunted her as she experienced the worst days of her life. No food, no water, no rest. Endless pain. Even as she burrowed herself further and further into her own mind, the pain followed her through every passage of the maze. She intentionally twisted herself down paths with dead ends, paths that recurved on themselves, keeping herself away from the information they wanted so badly.

If she could just hold out long enough, her team would rescue her.

She just had to last. Just a little bit longer.

The next time she found herself strapped to the chair in front of the table, the zip ties were the only thing holding her up, slippery from the blood. The light from the lamp felt like a laser in her eyes. A different man sat across the table from her, his features hazy from her blurred vision. The man was older, that much she could tell, and dressed in a sharp black suit.

Villain. She’d seen his face in so many files, in so much research for her team on him. She would know him in her sleep.

“You are remarkably stubborn,” he said, crossing his legs. “I see why they entrusted their secrets to you. A shame I didn’t find you first. That kind of loyalty is hard to find and even harder to buy.”

She had no quip for him, no scathing remarks. All her focus went to not puking.

“I am not going to waste any more of my resources trying to break you. That may sound like good news at first, but it simply means you are now completely valueless to me. That’s a very dangerous position to be in. Normally I would kill you and dispose of every trace of your existence, but my top scientist has asked me to spare you.”

He stood up, brushing imaginary dirt from his suit coat. “Again, that may sound like good news, but you will wish that I had killed you before long, that much I can assure you.”

Before she could make sense of this development, something sharp pricked the side of her neck and then she knew nothing at all.

Life passed in hazy flashes. She was in a bed. She heard birds and felt sunlight. She saw the man in the sunglasses. It was impossible to tell what was a dream and what was real. When she finally fully woke up, the world appeared in stages.

First the beeping. Then the cozy heaviness of a blanket. A small pain in her hand when she jostled it. When her eyes flittered open, she saw walls of deep green and cream, an IV drip that ran to the back of her left hand, a row of succulents on the window sill. A desk and a man sitting at it, scribbling in a notebook. A familiar, bespectacled man.

“Where am I?” she asked.

Or tried to ask. All that game out of her dry, dusty throat was a croak.

The man’s scribbling stopped abruptly and he looked over his shoulder.

“Are you finally awake?” he asked, standing up.

Another groan filtered from her cracked lips. He walked over to a side table that held a pitcher of water and poured her a glass, dropping in a plastic straw. His fingers pressed something on the side of the bed and the front half lifted slowly up until she was sitting.

“Drink slowly,” he said.

He held the glass to her lips and she sipped the water through the straw. It took everything in her not to chug it, not to rip it out of his grasp and drown in it when he pulled it away and set the glass on the table.

“Where am I?” she asked again, voice hoarse.

“Ah, here we go again thinking you can ask the questions,” he said with that crooked smile.

She glared at him, which only made his smile grow wider.

“I think though, this time I will be more generous with my answers. You are in my personal facilities. This is the medical recovery room. There is also my lab, my rooms, a kitchen. Everything we need, in short, for a long stay.”

Nausea roiled in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it came from the medicine he put her on or the implication of his words.

“Are you . . .the scientist?” she whispered.

It hurt to talk.

“I am a scientist, certainly.”

Another glare. Another smile.

“Why?”

Why was she here? Why did he want her? Why wasn’t she dead? All words that caught in her throat.

“Why am I a scientist? That story dates to my childhood, and I doubt you have much interest in that. Let’s say that I have a fascination with the rules of the world and how you can manipulate them.”

This man was impossible. If she had any strength left, she would have strangled him with the cord of her IV drip.

The steady beep of her heart rate monitor spiked with her anger. He glanced over at it with mild surprise.

“Don’t you feel at least a little hypocritical,” he asked, “expecting the truth from me when you refuse to give it yourself?”

Hypocritical? Hypocritical?

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed.

“As a heart attack. Like the one you might give yourself if you don’t keep your anger in check,” he added. “Take deep, slow breaths. Your body is still fragile. We wouldn’t want to undo all the progress of your recovery, would we?”

She took deep slow breaths, hating him the entire time, if only to keep him from knowing how much he got under her skin. He watched with little nods of approval.

“That’s it. Good. Now that you’re awake, I will take some of your vitals and check your bandages.”

Bandages? She resisted the sudden, panic laced urge to rip the blanket off and check her over her body. What injuries she sustained, he would reveal soon enough.

She held herself very still while he listened to her chest with a stethoscope. She realized then someone, most likely him, had dressed her in a medical gown and done away with the tattered remnants of her pajamas. He took her blood pressure, pinched the skin of her forearm for dehydration, took her temperature, before sliding the covers back and revealing bandages on her thighs, her knees, wrapped around her feet.

“Cuts and burns,” he explained at her morbidly curious expression.

“I don’t feel them,” she said in surprise.

“You have very good drugs in that IV drip.”

He treated her injuries with an antibiotic salve, spreading it oh so gently with gloved fingers. Then he returned the blankets over her lap and tugged up her medical gown. She tried to fight it, fingers gripping the hem as tight as she could manage, but he easily overpowered her.

“Relax, this is nothing inappropriate. You have bruised ribs.”

He checked her with the cold methodical touch of a professional before gently tugging her dress back down.

“You’re healing very well,” he said proudly. As if she had anything to do with it. “I expect partial recovery within two weeks and a full recovery within the month.”

He straightened up and slid his stethoscope off. “You should get more rest. Sleep is the most crucial component of healing.”

Her hand snaked out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Her grip may have been weak and pathetic, but she held on with all her strength regardless. The man considered her, his expression impressible to tell with his sunglasses on.

“Why?” she rasps throat aching. “Tell me why . . .please.”

It cost her to beg like that. And maybe he sensed that, because he bent down again and brushed an errant curl back from her face.

“Villain may consider you a lost cause, but I do not give up so easily. You are a fascinating little puzzle box and I am dying to create the tools that will break you open.”

He chucked her under the chin, and made his way out.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #mad scientist x civilian #my writing #not a prompt #writeblr #a lost cause #enemies to lovers #whump

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sashaisready · 2 months

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I'm Still Here - Chapter Three

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

In late 60s Meade, you’re married to Sheriff Bodecker, pregnant with your first child. On paper you’re the perfect couple – the respectable Sheriff and his homemaker wife. This should be one of the happiest times of your life…so why are the two of you living like ghosts? And is it too late to bridge that gap? Especially when your husband is playing a dangerous game.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Violence, suggestions of potential violence towards pregnant character, guns, general bad guy stuff. Please forgive any technical errors in my knowledge of 60s police/guns!!!

Wordcount: 1.5k

Sorry...this was initially going to be one part but it grew into something larger than expected! So there will be a follow up to this chapter...and there should be one more after that. Thank you for reading! As always reblogs and comments are so appreciated ❤️

You found yourself back at the sink again. Not even doing any dishes. Just…standing. You rubbed your stomach as baby kicked and you gazed out into the world. Not much going on. This was always a quiet time of day as most of the wives on your street went over to Mrs. Brennan’s place to play Bridge. They sometimes half-halfheartedly asked you to join, and you would smile and say you’d think about it - even though you all knew you wouldn’t. Still, you did the dance.

With the wives out at Bridge and the husbands mostly at work or off out doing their business, it was always a nice break from the curtain twitchers and nosy drop-bys.

Your mind wandered to Lee, and you thought about what sketchy shit he could be up to at this time of day. You knew he wasn’t really at the farm. Did he really think you didn’t know? That you didn’t see those extra bills in his wallet? Didn’t hear his hushed voice on the late night calls? Hadn’t noticed the extra pistol he’d stashed at the back of the closet? Honestly, Lee. This was you.

You pondered on Lee for a moment before the speeding truck pulled you from your thoughts. You watched curiously through the window as it barrelled down the street.

Huh. That was unusual. You didn’t get much traffic in Brewer Heights. And certainly not like that.

It sped by the houses, screeching slightly as the driver slammed the brakes. You raised a brow as it came to a stop..right outside your house.

You immediately went rigid, something long dormant inside you now suddenly wide awake. Danger. Danger. Run. Your could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

But why…? This could just be a maintenance worker or someone who took a wrong turn. Why did you think-

You watched as two men left the vehicle, one burly, the other shorter but radiating authority. Both carried themselves with an air of men not weighed down by petty things like legality or morality.

And they were heading straight towards the house.

You knew immediately this was to do with Lee. You just knew. God only knows what shit he’d got himself tied up with. But the fact they were here now suggested something had gone horribly wrong. You briefly considered calling the station, but there wasn’t time. Your stomach swam with dread as you thought about where Lee might be...what condition he could be in...

...But you couldn’t think about that right now.

You had to protect yourself and baby.

You saw the men begin to stroll up the driveway and you broke into a sprint straight up the stairs. Adrenaline soared through your veins. You flung yourself into the spare bedroom and grabbed Lee’s shotgun. Then you clumsily keyed in the code to his gun safe and snatched the bullets he kept in there. You grabbed his knife in its sheath for good measure and stashed it in your brassiere.

They were banging on the front door now, but you knew they’d let themselves in soon. It wasn’t locked. You didn’t have long.

“Mrs Bodecker…you home?” Someone yelled through the door downstairs.

You loaded a bullet into the shotgun chamber and pushed the loading flap up. You repeated this until you had a full magazine and pumped the gun to ensure it was ready.

You took a deep breath and quietly moved behind the door, raising the weapon and tightening your finger over the trigger. Pointing the barrel towards the hallway, you waited.

You never thought you’d be back here again. But then life always works in strange ways. Thank god for muscle memory, at least.

You waited.

You rubbed baby.

And you thought of Lee.

SEVERAL YEARS EARLIER...

Deputy Lee Bodecker studied the Wanted poster carefully, leaning in closely to look at the face of the young woman in the grainy photograph.

“A cutie, huh?” Sheriff Finlay laughed as he approached Lee’s desk. “Hard to believe she’s got several felonies under her belt”.

“Sheriff, sir” Lee nodded as he sat up straight. The sounds of the busy police station echoed around them.

Sheriff Finlay grinned. “At ease, rookie. I don’t bite. Now, did the boys fill you in on the details of today’s operation?”

“Yes, Sheriff. We have promising intel on the notorious Cypress gang, lead by Bill Glover - alias Billy The Kid” Lee explained. “They’ve committed numerous crimes across the state…and beyond. Robbery. Arson. Grand larceny. Assault and battery…Uh…murder”.

The Sheriff smiled. “That’s right. The feds are all over them too. But if we’re the ones to take them in, that looks great for us. Good press. Commendations. Maybe some extra funding if we play our cards right”.

Lee nodded. He knew what a big deal this would be. He hadn’t been on the force very long, and this was the perfect way to make his mark and show he was more than just the rookie. This could firmly place him on the path to becoming Sheriff one day.

Finlay tapped his finger back down on the Wanted poster.

“And this one…well, we don’t know her real name. But she goes by Honeybee. We think she might be a runaway, but we don’t have much on her. Don’t let her youth fool you, Bodecker, she’s a mean shot. And a meaner mouth. Some of our guys have underestimated her before. So keep your wits about you, alright?”

“Yes Sheriff. I won’t let you down, sir”.

“Good to hear, rookie” Finlay patted him on the shoulder and headed to his office. “See you out there”.

Lee nodded and looked back down at the image. Honeybee.

Well...he would be careful.

But she certainly was pretty.

Your body dangled precariously out of one of the Volkswagen bus windows, firing at the cop car that was hot on your tail.

“Eat that, fuckers!” You shrieked as you blew out one of their tyres. The others hooted and cheered behind you.

You watched the police car jerk and swerve violently across the highway before finally veering off entirely. Its siren fading as it soon began to shrink into the horizon.

You sighed and pulled yourself back inside, reloading the pistol and placing it back in your holster.

“Great work as always, Honeybee” laughed Billy, his voice proud.

You gave a mock bow and the two of you shared a smile in the rear view mirror. His long blonde curls blew in the breeze from his open window, emerald eyes locking onto you.

“Anytime, baby” you replied. “I love you”.

Billy beamed back at you. “I love you too, Honeybee”.

Cosmo jeered and Violet scoffed but you ignored them like always. All that mattered was you and Billy. You’d do anything to make him happy.

“FUCK!” Sheriff Finlay yelled as the squad gathered round.

“That’s Cooper and Palmer with a blow out twenty miles back. Plus Stevens is in the back of an ambulance after the bastards left barbed wire out on the tarmac”. He shook his head and wiped his damp brow with a handkerchief.

Lee inhaled. He’d never quite been on the job like this before. It wasn’t like the traffic stops and bar brawls he’d cut his teeth on. He moved closer and tried to suppress his nerves.

Palmer gestured to the large farmhouse they all stood in front of. A rusty VW bus was haphazardly parked across the overgrown yard.

We think they’re holed up in here” Finlay explained. “We’ll split in two - group A - take the upstairs, B the downstairs. Keep your weapons drawn and your backs covered”.

Minutes later and Lee was guarding the rear of group B, with Sheriff Finlay leading the charge. The house was long abandoned, but there were signs of life - a few crumpled blankets, food packets and beer bottles strewn over the floors. Someone had definitely been sleeping here recently.

They were creeping through the dusty dining room at the back of the house, a man covering in each direction, when a flash of something flew past the doorway, immediately followed by the sound of feet crashing on wood.

“Go, go, go!” Bellowed Finlay as the men surged forward, guns raised. He motioned for them to go and turned to Lee.

“Bodecker! We’ll take this. Get back to the cruiser and call for back up”.

“Yes Sheriff” Lee said quickly as he rushed back through the house. He could hear Finlay shouting as the others chased the gang out into the yard.

He was vibrating with adrenaline as he sprinted back towards the front door, he got to the hallway just as-

“Not so fast, deputy”.

He froze, but his hand tightened around his pistol. He turned to find you pointing a gun right back at him, a smirk creeping across your face.

You were even prettier in person.

“Honeybee” he said quietly.

Your smirk morphed into a full blown smile. “Oh, so you’ve done your homework, huh newbie?”

He nodded. “As much as I can, anyhow.” His lips curled a little at the edges. If he was scared, he hid it well.

Your smile widened. You didn’t recognise this one, and by now you knew all of Finlay’s boys. You found yourself strangely drawn to his expressive blue eyes, though. His big, broad shoulders. That little smirk on his face. There was…something about him.

“And you are?”

“Bodecker”.

“Got a first name, Deputy Bodecker?”

“Lee”.

You grinned at him, your finger hovering near the trigger. “Deputy Lee Bodecker, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance”.

“Likewise ma’am”. He nodded.

Sorry…I had to split this chapter into two as it was longer than planned! But I’m very excited to reveal more about how they got married and Honeybee’s life changed ☺️ And what goes down at the house of course! Will let get to her in time?

#lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #im still here fic

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sagau-my-beloved · 2 years

Note

Can we get more of venti coming to our world

I'm invested 😻‼️

Headcanons about sagau Venti with reader in the real world:

Absolutely! I'll go ahead and post those headcanons I said I was going to do under here, but I'll probably be posting another actual continuation of the work soon, hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: general Sagau, minor codependency, mentions of alcohol consumption, that's about it folks

• You are now the owner of a very high maintenance but devoted God

• Congratulations

• He can do tricks, so that might make up for some of it

• The first month or two you completely confined him to the house

• If he's going to go out there and make an idiot of himself, he might as well not seem like he's from another planet while doing so

• Wants to know about everything, really an unsatable amount of curiosity

• "But how exactly can television content be turned into 'waves' and travel through the air in particles? How do they know what to reform as??"

• After answering about a thousand questions, you finally just get him his own phone so he can look them up himself while you're not there

• Big mistake

• You now can't get peace no matter where you go

• He's the type to call and text you over every little tiny thing

• "My lovveee, I saw a bird today :D!" *sends attachment*

• "Uhh, are you sure that's not a leaf?"

• "..."

• "My lovveeee, I saw a leaf that looked like a bird today :D!"

• At the end of the day, you're going to have about 100 messages and over 50 calls

• Also constantly steals your phone to take pictures of himself and change what you have him set as in your contacts

• "Ok why did you change your contact name 'most beloved and devoted follower'?"

• "... Am I not your most beloved and devoted follower?"

• You're going to have to take him to a few clothes stores too, he gets weird enough looks just on his behavior alone, no need to add to that

• Keeps the signature green color though, and he could never part with the braids

• Since you wouldn't let him go outside, he decides to take an interest in plant keeping

• Says that it's stifling to be surrounded by no life all the time, kinda uses that line to guilt you into staying home with him more too

• You're going to have to reel him back a bit though, otherwise your entire house is going to be covered in greenery

• "Just one more? Look how sad it looks here."

• He always gives you that heartbreakingly sad face and you really just can't deny him, as much as it's putting a dent in your wallet

• Speaking of money, that's another thing he's particularly curious about

• He's only ever had Mora, so he likes learning about the history of your type of money and how it didn't come from a God

• Was also very confused about the lack of Gods and supernatural things

• Teach him about organized religious, do it, I dare you

• If he thought it was weird still having a decent following after not appearing for a couple hundred years, boy oh boy, watch him as he tries to grapple with Christianity

• He tries very hard to help out during the day when you're not home

• All the modern appliances are kind of confusing at first, you certainly have come home to a mess a few times before

• But after a few weekends that you spend dedicated to teaching him how to use the things around your house, he gets the hang of it

• Likes to spend his time cooking and cleaning and making things

• You once joked about how it felt like the nineteen fifties when you walked in and he excitedly greeted you, rambling on about the various things he did all day which included making dinner and trying his hand at various fiber arts

• He didn't get the joke

• I honestly think he would be pretty good at crocheting or knitting if he could develop the patience for it

• He does feel like this mundane housekeeping stuff is the least he can do for you though, not having a lot of modern day money making talents

• He snuck into a bar once to try playing for money (and get a few drinks) as he usually did, got kicked out almost immediately

• Still indulges though, you're going to have to drop a couple hundred on wine each month

• Almost cried when he learned that dandelion wine wasn't really a thing here

• You did take him to an alcohol store and let him pick out what he wanted after that incident, then practically forced him out of the building while you paid, otherwise he would have definitely be carded and you both would have had to leave with nothing

• Clings to you the rest of the day after that, going on and on about how much he loves and appreciates you, and that gets more intense the more he drinks

• One of the earlier problems was where he would be sleeping

• He spent the first week on the couch, allowing you to have your space

• For the next three weeks he acted as though he was going to sleep on the couch, and then crawled into your bed when you fell asleep

• You eventually just gave in and let him sleep there, he was much happier to be openly affectionate when he knew you weren't going to kick him out immediately (you still had your limits)

• Always wakes up first, the only caveat to that was when he drank heavily the night before

• So I guess he only woke up first about 50℅ of the time

• But insist heavily on making you something in the mornings, coffee, tea, breakfast if you'd let him

• "Oh good morning my love! Would you like something to eat? I made it just for you~"

• There are times where you can't sit down with him to eat, having to be somewhere early

• He always plays it off, but is super upset after you leave

• The food just doesn't taste nearly as good without you there

• Oh, and good luck if you have a cat

• He doesn't tell you that he has an allergy for the first couple of days, just internally dealing with the discomfort of it

• He has already resigned himself to the fact that this is going to be his fate from now on, he's come to terms with it

• You do catch on, ask him why he didn't tell you sooner that he was allergic, then offer to buy him some over the counter medication for it

• "That's possible!?"

• Small existential crisis, it's fine, don't worry about it, this happens a lot

• Eventually you do finally have to let him out, it's in his nature to wonder

• And honestly, he's kind of horrified over the current state of your world

• The political climate, the ecological climate, all of it

• It reinforces his believe that he's running his city correctly by not running it at all

• It also strengthens his resolve to eventually bring you back to Teyvat with him, it's so much nicer there, and it isn't nearly as hot, and the world isn't falling apart

• Looking past that though, he does really like going to different places, hikes and trails and beaches

• His powers do still work as well, there's just as much elemental energy in this world as in his, it's just no one knows how to use it here

• You do scold him every time he does something like that in public though

• Also he's absolutely guilty of pda

• Can't help himself

• Tries really hard to avoid phrases like "your grace" or "divine creator"

• But sometimes they slip out, and then people give you both weird looks, and you glare at him, and he looks at you apologetically

• He'll make it up to you later

• Is actually coming up with tons of new ways to make things up to you, because of how good you are to him

• He should really be the one providing for you, in all ways, and it frustrates him to no end

• He always feels like he's in debt in one way or another, but that's fine, that's the way it's always been

• As soon as you both get to Teyvat he's going to make up for it all, give you anything you want

• If you do ever end up getting there, he's gonna have some habits he might have a hard time breaking

• "Why is the Anemo God cooking for the creator?? Aren't there like 50 other people that can do that???"

• He'll find himself missing the convenience of your world sometimes

• Also, the sudden lack of one on one attention is going to completely eat at him

• If it's particularly bad, he's going to take you on a vacation back in your world for a few weeks

• (which translates to like two years there oh no—)

• Eventually you do have to tell him about the game, how you're not really "the creator", but just the person who guides the player, how there are hundreds of other people worldwide that know about him and all the others, play the game no different than you

• It takes a while for him to really come to terms with it

• Still justifies you being better than everyone else because you actually have an active religion surrounding you in the game, you're the one he came for

• And even if you didn't "make the game" you're still the reason why so many people in it are happy

• And he's still 100℅ convinced that you are a reincarnation of the creator

• Game or not, that universe is real to him and all that live in it, there are a lot of things that happened there that aren't shown in game, so that must mean it exists outside of the game too right?

• But he has an absolute day going through people posting about it

• You are kind of looking over his shoulder, doing your best to limit his exposure to some of the really horrible Internet stuff

• He prefers reading, creating, and singing your praises in his spare time anyway, which works out well for both of you

#genshin impact #sagau #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin venti #yandere genshin au #headcannons #venti x reader

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crissiebaby · 4 months

Text

Double Diaper Dare: Chapter 14

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, WAM, hypermessing, hypnosis, diaper filling, slime transformation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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Clicking on his flashlight, Mike cocked his head sideways, entranced by what appeared to be an oatmeal outline of a butt. “So…what? Someone got wet and wild with the oatmeal machine?” he said, peering around the corner at his fellow security guard, Devin, who was in the process of checking each and every stall thoroughly.

“Looks that way. I told you we needed to double security for the testing department,” said Devin as he kicked open the last unchecked stall, disappointed and confused to find no one inside, “It doesn’t make sense. There’s no one hiding in the lockers or the stalls, and there’s no other way out of this bathroom.” Pressing his fingers to his temple, he sighed, not looking forward to reporting to his superior empty-handed. At least if they found the vandal, they could avoid getting chewed out for a security breach.

Shaking his head, Mike waved Devin back to the entrance, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Well, consider your point proven. Maybe now, they’ll listen when we say we’re stretched way too thin,” he said, patting his colleague on the back, “Tell ya what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna stand guard outside of this changing room and keep a close eye on the testing chamber while I radio to maintenance for a clean-up crew, sound good?”

Nodding in response, Devin shook off his dejection and followed Mike into the main testing chamber. “Wanna get some beers later tonight? It’s Thirsty Thursday at Mickey’s and I could use a-WOAH!” he said, cutting himself off mid-sentence as one of his feet slipped out from under him, nearly causing him to fall over. He planted his feet and stuck his arms out wide, quickly regaining his balance. Looking down at the floor, he expected to see a clump of oatmeal with a shoe print skidding through it. However, what he found instead was some kind of sticky, purple goo, “...the hell?”

“What’s up?” said Mike, attentively approaching Devin only to stop dead in his tracks as though his feet had been glued to the floor, “Dev, is this a prank or something?!” He twisted his upper body around frantically, attempting to dislodge his feet to no avail.

Shaking his head no, a panicking Devin soon found that both of his shoes were stuck to the floor as well. In his struggle to free himself, he lost his balance once and for all and tumbled backward onto his butt, landing atop the sticky surface. “What is this stuff?!” he shouted, trying and failing to remove his hand from the ground.

Suddenly, the gooey ground began to shift around them as a purple blanket of slime began to converge at a central point, rising from the ground in the process. Unfortunately for Devin and Mike, the shifting slime carried their bodies with it, sucking them in closer to the epicenter. “W-What the fuck are they working on in here?!” screamed Mike, lunging with all of his weight in hopes of unsticking his feet, only to flop down onto his belly, trapping him like a bug on a piece of fly paper.

With both Devin and Mike unable to escape, they could only watch with growing horror as the goo continued to pile onto itself until its central form was several feet taller than the two burly men. “How dare you enter MY domain?!” said a booming feminine voice, a pair of slimy eyes forming on its face.

The security guards could only shriek in terror and plead for forgiveness as they fruitlessly scrambled to dislodge themselves from the angry-sounding slime creature. “I-I’m sorry! W-We’ll leave immediately,” cried Devin, who was shaking like a frightened chihuahua. His fear became so great that he accidentally let out some pee into his black slacks, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the mysterious, sentient goo monster.

“Hahaha! Looks like someone forgot to diaper up this morning,” said the female voice, cackling maniacally at the pitiful guard. As her eyes wandered over to the two-person diaper that Crissie had presented her with earlier, a devious plot formed in her mind, “Don’t worry, I can help you both change into something far more appropriate.” Extending several slimy tendrils out from her body, the slime creature effortlessly lifted the pair of men off of the ground. She snickered at their meek attempt to wiggle out of the many tentacles she used to bind them, getting quite the kick out of how easy it was to keep them hovering in the air even as they kicked and writhed to free themselves.

“P-Please! I’m just a security dispatcher! Let me go and take Devin! He’s the one who was harassing you!” pleaded Mike, showing that he was more than willing to throw his buddy under the bus for his own sake.

Dropping his jaw in shock, Devin’s frightened state immediately swapped to animosity toward his co-worker. “Fuck you, Mike! Take him! He just sits in his office most of the day anyway! No one will even notice!” he said, hoping for any sort of mercy from the slime monster. Sadly, the only response he got was having a tentacle shoved between his lips, silencing him and filling his mouth and throat with flavorless goo. Straining his peripheral vision, he saw that Mike had fallen victim to the same fate.

“There, much more peaceful without you two squabbling,” said the slime, orchestrating her tentacles to position the two guards back to back. She then picked up the diaper with four leg holes and slowly shimmied it up the two men’s legs, quite a feat considering how strongly they were jerking their lower halves back and forth to stop her. Their efforts were tragically in vain as in no time at all, she managed to slot them into the two-person diaper, taping it on them snugly before using the built-in waistband lock to secure their conjoined undergarment.

Depositing the two men back on the ground, the slime let go of their bodies to allow them the opportunity to explore their new padding for the foreseeable future. It may have been a little cruel but it was an absolute delight to watch them fail to do something as simple as stand up without crumbling back down onto their tushies. As a finishing touch, she grabbed two pieces of Bubbly Baby bubblegum and forced them into the mouths of her two captives. They tried to spit out the sugary confection but Codi’s tentacles were relentless, keeping the gum firmly held between their teeth. After a few chomps from both Devin and Mike, she released them, watching with unabashed glee as their expressions faded from anxious to docile to giggly in a matter of seconds. “Now, you two sit here and think about what you’ve done,” she said, booping them each on the nose before rushing back toward the changing room.

Flattening herself to the floor, the slime dove under the changing room’s door and rose up on the other side, gradually returning to her humanoid form as Codi. “Told ya I could do it!” she said proudly, having completed Crissie’s latest dare.

“Yay! I had a feeling you’d have fun with that,” said Crissie, running up to Codi and throwing her arms around her, paying little mind to the parts of her that were still unformed goo, “Let’s hurry and find that key! We don’t want to deal with anyone else showing up before we-MMMMF!”

All of sudden, Crissie had her mouth filled by a long, gooey tentacle. Her eyes went wide as she felt herself growing instantly moist behind her cursed chastity belt. With her resistance flatlining, she opened her lips more and flattened her tongue to allow Codi’s slime to travel down her throat, which eagerly pressed into her tummy and rubbed up against her womb. Surprisingly, she still found she was able to breathe through her nose, letting her know that Codi was skilled enough to pull this off without suffocating her. Meanwhile, a second tentacle slithered over the waistband of her diaper, through the slots of her chastity, and into her moist slit, filling her from top to bottom. Her limbs went weak as she moaned hard, allowing for her entire body weight to be supported by Codi.

“Ah, ah, ah! It’s my turn to give the dare and I won’t have you rushing me,” said Codi, taking her fully formed hand and brushing it against Crissie’s cheek, “I Double Diaper Dare you to avoid cumming until I get us back to the nursery. If you can do that, I’ll concede and let you win.” While to an outsider, her offer may have appeared fair, both she and Crissie knew that Crissie was never going to be able to hang on for that long.

Codi had barely stepped foot outside of the changing area before Crissie felt the first orgasm overtake her. Her body quivered in Codi’s arms, refusing to let her mask how horny she had become. Part of her expected Codi to say something snarky as her climax happened but instead, Codi didn’t say a single word, deciding to comfort her with a series of soft headpats.

Watching as Codi scanned through the scattered oatmeal to find the teleport key, Crissie leaned into the crux of Codi’s arm and closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see her find the key and bring them home. She fully trusted that Codi would take care of her and keep her safe. “Ah uv oos,” she mumbled through her mouthful of slime.

“I love you too, Crissie,” said Codi, leaning down and planting a kiss on Crissie’s forehead.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca

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randoimago · 8 months

Text

Day 7 - Huddling for Warmth

Fandom: Yakuza

Character(s): Saejima

Type of Request: 31 Days of Oc-Trope-R

Note(s): Ngl I did not think I'd love Saejima as much as I do. Also there isn't really any mention of the current relationship of Saejima and Reader. It can be viewed as pining or like early stages of dating.

The apartment was cold today. It's winter in Kamurocho and the heating in your apartment just had to go out. You had thrown all the blankets you could into a pile to try and keep warm. You had every one of your heavy jackets there too. But it still felt too cold.

Saejima, was unaware of this when he decided to come over. He was in the area due to helping random people with nonsense, and thought he'd stop by to see you. He also terribly missed you, but it was still hard for him to actually say those words and he hopes the steamed bun and candies he brought can convey what he can't say.

He knocked on the door and waited for you to answer. He managed to pick up a groan from your side of the door and that caused him to be a bit curious, but also worried. Before he could kick the door in, it opened, and he saw you in what seemed to be multiple jackets.

"Planning to go outside?" He asks, confused as to why you would do that, but also a bit worried that him coming over interrupted some plans you might have had. You just try to muster a smile for him, but he can tell you're not in the mood.

"Heat is out in my apartment," you tell him as you step aside so he can walk in. An immediate wave of concern hits him as he walks inside and can feel that it's not much warmer inside than it is outside. At least you have four walls and a roof so the wind can't get to you, but it's still very concerning.

"Is no one doing maintenance? You'll freeze," Saejima asks, a tad pissed off now at the thought of you being stuck in your apartment without any heating. He then looks to you and gives you a scolding look. "You should have called."

"Well, I didn't call because I didn't think it would be too big of a deal. And I thought that the heating would be fixed by now."

"Did they give an estimate of how long it would take?" Saejima questions as he walks into the room and sees the pile of blankets and jackets on your couch. You always said the living room was warmer than the rest of the place, so he guesses it's good that you moved everything here.

"A couple hours," you answer and Saejima hands you the steamed bun and sets your candies aside. He turns to look at you and you shake your head. "Before you mention going anywhere, I really don't feel like leaving the apartment today even though it's freezing."

"A couple hours in this cold isn't good. Prison was warmer than this even in winter," Saejima mutters as he watches the satisfied look on your face as you bite into the steamed bun and hold it in your face. For a split second, he thinks about how cute you are, but he quickly pushes it away because there's more important things to worry about. "I'm staying until your heating is fixed," he decides.

"You don't have-" The stern look he gives you is enough for you to take another bite of the food and stay quiet.

"I'm staying with you. If the heating doesn't get fixed in the time you were told, then you're staying at my apartment in the meantime," he says and he feels a bit bad about telling you what you're going to do. But he's glad that you don't seem in a mood to argue with him.

"Fine, freeze with me then," you say and finish your bun. You move to the blanket pile and curl up under them, giving him a look. "You going to join me? You'll freeze if you don't," you state and now Saejima hesitates.

He always tries to respect your personal space. He's been much more of a giver of gifts than affection. And while he very much likes the idea of cuddling with you under some blankets, he is still worried about overstepping boundaries.

And then he sees you shivering, and his mind is made up as he moves closer, picking up the blankets so he can sit down before he lets them fall on top of him. There is still a moment of hesitation before he pulls you against his chest. You were shivering and he knows body heat is a good way to warm up. Saejima is glad that he has the self-control to not shiver as he feels you against him like this.

You sigh and Saejima looks down at you, his heart speeding up a bit as you make eye contact, and a smile crosses your face. "Maybe I should've called you. You're really warm," you tell him, and he can't help an amused smile back as he holds you a tad tighter.

"You're warm too," he mutters and while you don't carry the amount of body heat that he does, he can feel how easily his body heats up and how warm his heart is with having you this close.

#randoimago 31 days of october #yakuza x reader #saejima x reader #taiga saejima x reader

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silvfyre-writings · 1 year

Text

Fukuzawa Struggles to be a Parent (BSD Fanfic)

This was supposed to be another 3 in 1 story, but it uh... kind of got away and just linked itself together? Oh well, haha.

I'm both happy with the way this turned out, but also not. After writing TMAS (which is in present tense) I've struggled to get back into writing past tense, and I think it shows, but I'm also hoping it hasn't showed. But we'll see I guess.

Either way, I hope you all enjoy the story! If you did, feel free to leave a like or a reblog! They truly make my day! :D

Fukuzawa considered himself skilled in many things. He was skilled with the sword, even though it’d been months since he’d last held it in his hands—he still had it of course, kept hidden, but safe, just in case he needed to use it again in the future; which, he hoped not to. He also considered himself skilled in martial arts, and had used the techniques he’d taken the time to learn and master several times over recent months, no thanks to a certain child of course that seemed determined to wind up in trouble more often than not. But for all that he was skilled in, there was one thing that wouldn’t consider himself overly skilled at.

And that was parenting.

Fukuzawa had never planned on having children if his own, had never sought out a relationship to even consider that option in the first place, and he’d certainly never planned on children—well, one child in particular—becoming a part of his life. His previous job as an assassin had made it far too dangerous to care for another person, and his current bodyguard job was no different, yet here he was, with a teenage boy in his care.

A teenage boy that was not like any teenager Fukuzawa had ever encountered in his life; he was yet to know if that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t like he’d wanted the boy in the first place—in fact, he’d tried everything to find the boy somewhere else to stay that was better suited to him. But no, Edogawa Ranpo had latched onto Fukuzawa, both physically and emotionally, and there was no getting rid of him.

At first, it’d been hard on the both of them; Fukuzawa didn’t have the space for a growing boy, and Ranpo was more than willing to voice any complaints he had about his new living situation. You’d think, after spending a year on the streets, the kid would be at least a little grateful about having a roof over his head, but oh no, the one bedroom apartment was far too tiny for him. Fukuzawa had shot down Ranpo’s complaints immediately though, stating that he was more than welcome to sleep outside again if he didn’t want to stay with Fukuzawa.

Ranpo had fallen quiet, and taken residence up on the couch for one night, and one night only, before he took over Fukuzawa’s room. Fukuzawa had gone to kick the boy out onto the couch after the third night of losing his futon, only to have the argument die before it could even form when he saw how peaceful Ranpo looked while he slept—how he looked like the child he was supposed to be.

It wasn’t just the new living situation that was a problem either—Fukuzawa had started looking for a bigger apartment to move in to when it became clear that he was stuck with Ranpo—it was everything else that also came attached to the boy. Really, Ranpo should’ve had a neon sign attached to him labelled ‘high maintenance’ because he was, at least by Fukuzawa’s standards. He was almost certain that if he had any actual parenting experience, it wouldn’t be so hard, but he didn’t, so it was. It also didn’t help that Ranpo didn’t tell him whenever there was a problem.

If Fukuzawa cooked something that Ranpo couldn’t stomach, the kid would just stare at the bowl until an opportunity arose to dump the meal.

If Fukuzawa so much as raised his voice or said the wrong thing, Ranpo flinched away from him, and would fall silent whilst Fukuzawa tried to figure out what he’d done wrong.

And if Fukuzawa wanted some time to himself—because he’d spent years alone and now he suddenly wasn’t—then Ranpo would cling to him and not let go until Fukuzawa begrudgingly let him tag along.

But over time, things got better. Fukuzawa and Ranpo moved into a bigger place where they could have their own rooms. He learnt what foods were safe to cook and what ones would be a waste of time. They both learnt how to properly communicate with each other to avoid misunderstandings, and Ranpo’s fears of being abandoned were slowly placated until Fukuzawa could finally leave the house for some peace without worry.

One thing that did not get better though, was Ranpo’s social skills.

Ranpo was intelligent; he knew it, Fukuzawa knew it, which meant that everyone they ever met also had to know about it. Which often led to… complex situations. Passerby’s could be placated with a few words, and a speedy escape, and store clerks were avoided until a suitable amount of time passed where the incident had been forgotten about in the first place. But the police force… that wasn’t as easy to deal with.

Being a genius capable of solving crimes in less than a minute, Ranpo had quickly made a name for himself in doing so, and was often requested by the police to come to various crime scenes and give his opinions with Fukuzawa trailing behind on bodyguard duty, because despite his best efforts, Ranpo was still a scrawny boy who could easily be knocked over by a gust of wind.

However…

Ranpo’s intellect, along with his inability to be socially aware in the slightest, often led to clashes with the officers in charge of the crime scenes. Words of ‘how stupid can you be?’ and ‘even a toddler could solve this’ thrown about without any regard to the feelings of others, Fukuzawa was often left doing damage control, doing his best to calm down officers that grew irate and upset at Ranpo’s words. Most of the time he succeeded, and the rest of the time they spent at the crime scene went by without further problems, but sometimes, he would fail, and they’d be thrown off the crime scene entirely.

And no matter how many times he warned Ranpo to watch what he said to others and to consider how others might feel in regards to his harsh words, Ranpo never learnt, and continued to berate and ridicule those around him when they couldn’t find the answer as fast as him.

Yeah, Fukuzawa didn’t have a handle on this parenting gimmick in the slightest.

“Fukuzawa-san, I’m bored.” Ranpo sighed, nearly throwing himself off the couch as he leaned out the back of it to watch as Fukuzawa read the newspaper at the dining table.

“And?” Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow, placing his finger at where he’d been reading before looking up to make eye contact with Ranpo. “You have the means of occupying yourself.”

“Yeah, but, they’re boring. Don’t we have any cases?”

“No, we don’t. We haven’t since the last time you asked me that either.” It was Fukuzawa’s turn to sigh, and he closed the paper in his hands, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a chance to continue reading, not when Ranpo was in such a mood. “You’d probably get more requests if you were a bit nicer to the officers.”

Ranpo’s face scrunched up in disapproval. “Bah, why? If they want me to be nice, than they shouldn’t be so stupid, should they?”

Fukuzawa sighed again. This was an argument that he’d long accepted he wasn’t going to win, but it didn’t stop him from trying at least. Maybe one day, Ranpo would understand what it was that he was getting at, but until that day came, it was his job to try and guide Ranpo to the solution.

“What? I’m not wrong. Even you thought that last officer we worked with was being stupid.”

“I may have thought he was… foolish, but I elected not to say it to his face. Unlike you.” Fukuzawa levelled Ranpo with a look, and took satisfaction when Ranpo actually looked like he regretted his words just a few days ago. “We were barred from the crime scene before we’d even set foot onto it.”

Ranpo gained a sullen look, and his face disappeared from view as he returned to sitting properly on the couch. There was a silence, and the sound of fidgeting before a quiet voice drifted towards him. “It’s not my fault that adults are so complex. I’m trying my best.”

Fukuzawa bit back the sigh that was seconds away from voicing itself. “I know. Just… try not to insult them so much when they don’t understand you, alright?”

Ranpo nodded, but didn’t say anything more.

He could only hope that the boy took his words to heart for a change.

Ranpo did, but he also didn’t, take Fukuzawa’s words to heart; he still insulted the officers of the cases they worked on, but he kept the insults more… tame; well, tame by Ranpo standards at least. Fukuzawa wanted to tell Ranpo to take it that one step further and cease the insults entirely, but he knew when to pick his battles, and right now, he’d take mild insults over what it had been previously. He’d try again in a couple of weeks; for now, he’d just settle for playing damage control.

“Oh great, who invited the brat?” Fukuzawa’s eye twitched at the displeasure in the young police officer’s voice as he and Ranpo approach the crime scene they’d been asked to attend. The officer in question was doing nothing to hide how much he disliked Ranpo’s presence. He wasn’t one that Fukuzawa recognized, and looked a bit on the young side. A new officer perhaps?

Ranpo didn’t notice, striding straight past the officer and Fukuzawa without a care in the world. “The greatest detective in the world is here! Try and keep up with me if you can, haha!”

Fukuzawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose at Ranpo’s antics. He could see some of the officers—the older ones—rolling their eyes, but only a few seemed to actually take offense to Ranpo’s words. Good, maybe they’re finally understanding this is just how he is. He was thankful, when the officer in charge—one of the ones that’d rolled their eyes—approached Ranpo and began running through the case with the boy. This was where Fukuzawa would take a step back, and observe as the crime unfolded itself beneath Ranpo’s eyes; Fukuzawa considered himself observant, and quite often, managed to at least keep up with Ranpo at times, but he was nowhere near the level of skill that the kid possessed.

While Ranpo continued to spout off his deductions and reasons behind them, Fukuzawa made sure to stay close—just because the crime scene was sealed off from public eyes, didn’t always mean that it was safe. There’d been too many times, where there’d been a close call with Ranpo and an unhappy criminal, so Fukuzawa had taken to sticking close to Ranpo, but not so close that he was overbearing.

“What do you mean, ‘it was suicide’? He was murdered, we have evidence!” The officer from before interrupted, cutting Ranpo off from what he was saying. The officer’s glare was filled with animosity as he stormed up to Ranpo, coming to a stop just in front of the kid.

Both Fukuzawa and Ranpo frowned at the interruption, but only Ranpo chose to say anything about it. “What? Are you that stupid you can’t see a set up when it’s right in front of you? It obviously wasn’t a murder, even if all the evidence you found pointed towards it being one.”

“If it’s a set-up then who was the victim setting up and why?” The officer asked, fists clenched angrily as Ranpo insulted him.

Oh no. Fukuzawa could already see how this was going to go, and he stepped just that little bit closer. Just in case.

“His best friend.” Ranpo said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, and he frowned at the officer. “They had an argument over some stupid thing that the friend owned, so the victim took his parents credit cards, bought all the ‘evidence’ and then set it all up to look like a murder before killing himself in a way that made it look like he’d been murdered. Although, he probably didn’t intend to actually die, but make it look like he’d died, and then ended up actually dying.”

“That’s bullshit. There’s no way that that’s possible! He killed himself, but he didn’t want to? What kind of novel do you think we live in?”

Ranpo continued to stare at the officer with an annoyed look, and then sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “It did happen, I know it did. My skill doesn’t lie after all, but you are new, so I guess I can’t expect you to know just how great my skill is yet—”

“I don’t give a shit about some skill you have. There’s no way a skill exists like that! If there was, then there’d be no point in even having us here!”

Ranpo blinked. “Why do you think they call me every time you idiots can’t do—”

Fukuzawa reacts, but not fast enough to stop the officer from letting out a shout and throwing his fist, watching helplessly as it connects with the side of Ranpo’s face, cutting the boy off from whatever he’d been saying. Ranpo yelped, throwing out his arms to catch himself as the force of the punch sent him to the ground. He hits the ground, just as Fukuzawa grabs the arm of the officer to stop him from lashing out again.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Oshikawa?” The head officer—Yamamoto was his name—jogged over with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Sir! He was disrespecting the police force!” Oshikawa shouted, face red in anger as he pulled free of Fukuzawa’s grip to face his supervisor.

“He always does that!” Yamamoto retorted. “We accept that whenever he place a call for his assistance. I even warned you before they arrived what he was like, so what do you think you’re doing hitting him?”

“But he—”

“He’s a child, Oshikawa. If you have a problem with Edogawa—” Yamamoto moved his arm to directly point at Fukuzawa, who froze from where he’d been moving to check on Ranpo. “—then you tell Fukuzawa-san and he’ll deal with it. Not you, and not me either—”

Fukuzawa tuned out the argument now that he knew it was being dealt with and hurried over to kneel beside Ranpo, wanting to make sure that his ward wasn’t hurt too bad. “Are you alright, Ranpo?”

Ranpo turned his head to look up at Fukuzawa. There are tears forming in his eyes, although Ranpo seemed to be forcing them back through sheer will, and the red mark rapidly forming on his face promised to become an impressive bruise later. His hands were scuffed and bleeding slightly as well from where Ranpo had had to catch himself against the dirt, and the boy is holding them close to his chest. Ranpo sniffed unhappily. “He hit me!”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” It’s an accusation, and a well deserved one at that. Fukuzawa should have been able to stop Oshikawa’s fist before it even connected in the first place.

“I didn’t expect the biggest threat to be an officer.” Fukuzawa said, trying to placate Ranpo before upset himself even further. “I apologize though, I should’ve paid closer attention. I saw him getting angry and didn’t react accordingly.”

Ranpo nodded after taking a couple of minutes to ponder over Fukuzawa’s words. He doesn’t say anything more, so Fukuzawa took it as a sign to help Ranpo up, and guided the boy to his feet, making sure to only grab Ranpo by the elbows, because until they can get home, he had no idea how hurt Ranpo actually was.

“Fukuzawa-san, I apologize for Oshikawa’s actions. He will be dealt with accordingly.” Yamamoto sighed as he approached, coming to a stop when Ranpo ducked behind Fukuzawa in order to hide himself. “We appreciate the both of you coming out, so if you wish to leave, you may do so.”

“Thank you, we’ll do that.” Fukuzawa didn’t wait another moment before he guided Ranpo away from the crime scene and the two of them begin to head back home.

Ranpo is silent as they walk, and his head his pointed at the ground, Fukuzawa’s hand on his back the only reason that the kid doesn’t trip over his own feet or walk into something—or someone. Fukuzawa too, remained silent; if Ranpo didn’t want to talk until they were back home, then he was willing to wait. It shouldn’t take them too long to get home anyway; they’d walked to the crime scene this time instead of taking public transport, a decision that Fukuzawa had begun to regret.

I knew something like this would happen… Fukuzawa thought as they walked, letting his mind play back the incident so he could devise a plan on how to handle it. There’d been many a time where Ranpo had irritated officers to the point of aggression, but they’d always restrained themselves, or taken it out on some poor inanimate object—never had one of them physically struck Ranpo. He glanced down at Ranpo, able to see the impact the officer’s fist had left; a red mark that reminded Fukuzawa of the last time Ranpo had been struck in such a manner.

When he was the one to strike the boy.

And while he knew that the situations were completely different, that when he’d slapped Ranpo, it had been something he’d done out of fear of the boy not understanding just how close he’d been to losing his life. It’d still been wrong, and he’d apologized for it several times over since they’d started living under the same roof, and Ranpo had never seemed overly bothered by it, but it would be something that Fukuzawa always regretted.

But this? This was nothing but anger and cruelty, and Ranpo had done nothing to deserve being hit by someone that was supposed to protect kids like him. Yes, he probably could’ve tried harder to get Ranpo to understand why he needed to be kinder to people, and he should’ve talked to him about it before they’d entered the crime scene just to remind him. Doing that may have prevented this from even happening in the first place.

That was why Fukuzawa didn’t consider himself to be the ideal parent to this child.

“Let me see?” Fukuzawa asked gently as he came to sit on the table he’d dragged closer to the couch just so he could do so. The first-aid kit he’d brought with him is placed beside him as he reached out to grab one of Ranpo’s hands, now clean and free from dirt and grit, but it’s not the hands he’d been asking about.

Ranpo let out a whine, but pulled away the ice pack he’d been holding against his face for several minutes now, revealing the mark underneath. The injury had begun to swell on the way home, and Ranpo had complained a little about how it was hurting, but he hadn’t said anything more when Fukuzawa had tried to ask. Fukuzawa leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he studied the injury. Ranpo’s eye was puffy and nearly swollen shut, and there was some dried blood on Ranpo’s nose where the skin had been split, and the surrounding skin was already starting to bruise. Ranpo replaced the ice pack when Fukuzawa pulled away and went back to disinfecting the scrapes on Ranpo’s palms. “Ow…”

“Sorry.” Fukuzawa apologized, lightening his touch just that little bit. “Your face doesn’t look too bad, considering how hard he hit you.”

“It hurts.” Ranpo grumbled.

“Getting punched tends to.”

“You don’t sound very sympathetic right now.” Ranpo pulled his hands away once Fukuzawa finished bandaging them and watched as he got up to throw away the supplies he’d used with a cautious look

Fukuzawa sighed as he moved about the kitchen, grabbing some painkillers before he returned, sitting on the couch beside Ranpo this time as he handed the pills over. “I’ve warned you before to watch what you say when interacting with the police, so you are at fault for what happened, but—”

“So what? I deserved to get hit?” Ranpo interrupted, glaring up at Fukuzawa angrily. “That’s stupid!”

“If you’d let me finish.” Fukuzawa narrowed his eyes at the interruption. Ranpo ducked his head and refused to meet his eyes as he continued to speak. “It was your fault for antagonizing the man, but it was his fault for resorting to violence. It is never okay to hit someone, no matter how much they push your buttons.”

Ranpo was silent for a moment before he looked up at Fukuzawa with uncertainty. “You hit me, once.”

“An action I will forever regret.” Fukuzawa admitted, shifting to drape an arm across Ranpo’s shoulders. “And one that I have already apologized for several times over.”

“Why did you hit me then?”

Fukuzawa frowned, trying to understand just what it was that Ranpo was trying to get at. They’d already talked about that night extensively, and the emotions that had—ah. Realization dawned on him then, that Ranpo was trying to find the non-existent link between the two incidents, since both had resulted in Ranpo being hit. “You don’t understand why you were hit, do you?”

Ranpo jerked in his seat, cheeks turning red, and Fukuzawa knew he’d figured it out. A genius, he may not be, but he was learning. Ranpo nodded. “I don’t get what I did. I solved the crime for them just like I always do.”

“The issue isn’t in you solving the crimes, it’s in your attitude when you speak with them.” Ranpo looked at him in confusion and Fukuzawa faltered. This wasn’t a conversation he was confident in having. “Some people... don’t react well when you call them stupid or an idiot. Or when you tell them that they aren’t smart enough to figure things out when you do it in a few seconds.”

“I have an ability—” Ranpo began.

“But the officers you work with do not.” Fukuzawa pushed on as if Ranpo hadn’t even spoken, giving the boy a look to make sure that he listened. “They are all people without gifts who are plenty smart, but simply need more time to figure things out. They would have figured out that death in the end if we hadn’t been invited. It may have taken them longer, but they would’ve.”

Ranpo remained silent.

“What I’m getting at, Ranpo, is you need to be a little more aware when it comes to dealing with people. The officers are starting to learn about you and your antics, but not everyone you work with or meet is going to be like them. You’ll come across people—like Oshikawa—who will lash out suddenly, and you’ll find yourself getting hurt.”

“But… they are being stupid…?” Ranpo frowned, tugging at the bandages around his hands. “Why are they getting mad… when I tell them the truth?”

“Sometimes the truth hurts more than it helps, and that’s something you have to learn.” Fukuzawa said, and watched as Ranpo sighed and hunched in on himself like he was prone to doing when he was unhappy. “I’ll help you, okay? And if you never understand it, that’s fine, I’ll make sure to stop any further punches before they happen.”

That draws a laugh from Ranpo, and a smile, and Fukuzawa figured he’d finally done something right.

Fukuzawa should’ve known that that one run in with the police wouldn’t have been the end of it, that it would be the catalyst that would confirm just what his role in Ranpo’s life was supposed to be, and that it would be the reason into allowing him to finally understand the boy he’d taken into his care only a few months ago.

“I don’t want to.” Ranpo huffed and turned away from Fukuzawa, with a pout that did nothing but make him look like a temperamental child. Which, technically, Ranpo still was, but that was beside the point. The point was, that Fukuzawa had been arguing with the boy for several minutes now, trying to get him to accept the latest job that the police had offered, only to be refused and rejected no matter what bribery he tried.

“Ranpo…” Fukuzawa sighed, raising a hand to drag it down his face. He was about to tell Ranpo to accept the job, when he paused and decided to take a different approach. “Why don’t you want to take this job?”

Ranpo hesitated before he rolled over and looked somewhere that was in the direction of his face, but not directly making eye contact. “That Oshikawa officer is the one asking.”

“I see…” Now it made sense why Ranpo was so hesitant, what with the memory of being punched still fresh in the boy’s mind, even though it’d happened almost a month ago at this point. Fukuzawa didn’t blame Ranpo for feeling the way he was; but the officer had apologized—even though he’d sounded reluctant to be doing so—and Ranpo had, surprisingly, apologized in return. The incident was behind them, or at least, Fukuzawa had thought that was the case. “As long as you mind yourself, and stick close to me, you’ll be fine.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Ranpo muttered.

“I am on your side, Ranpo, but you cannot let one bad experience stop you from working.” Fukuzawa said with a raised eyebrow. He watched as Ranpo turned away from him once again, and bit back the sigh that threatened to follow. It really was hard, trying to figure out how to best handle the moods that Ranpo often found himself in. What would soothe him one time, would make him angry the next; it was like playing a game with an unbeatable boss; there was no right way of ‘winning’.

But, Fukuzawa had made a promise to Ranpo the night after he’d taken him in, that he’d take care of him and keep him safe from those that didn’t understand him. And if Ranpo didn’t feel safe going to the crime scene, then there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He sighed. “If you really don’t want to take the job, I won’t pressure you into it. We can stay in today if you’d like.”

Ranpo turned back to face him, with a grateful look on his face that told Fukuzawa all he needed to know, so he moved away for a moment and explained to the officer on that had been waiting patiently on the other end of the line, that Ranpo was unavailable to take the case, and in an even quieter voice, explained why he wasn’t taking the case. Oshikawa seemed to understand and thanked him, even if he sounded a bit disheartened to hear Ranpo’s decision.

Hopefully, Fukuzawa’s explanation would be enough for the man to understand that if he wanted Ranpo’s help in the future, it would be best to get someone else to make the request.

It was another week before Ranpo took on another case he was requested on, but the entire time he was at the crime scene, his eyes would flick between the officers that were also at the scene, apprehensive, as if he feared one of them would lash out at him. The boy had also taken to pretty much standing on top of Fukuzawa, sticking so close to him that Fukuzawa was surprised he could even breathe. But he didn’t tell Ranpo to give him space, or to stop being frightened, because that wouldn’t do anything but make it worse; he just stood tall and firm, and allowed the teen to cling to him.

Ranpo seemed to have finally taken his words to heart as well, for the insults against the police and their supposed incompetence died down greatly, the insults only slipping out when they were actually due—when Fukuzawa too, agreed that the police were being idiotic in their guesses. It was only when they were heading home from cases, that Ranpo would speak his mind, telling Fukuzawa about everything he’d thought but hadn’t said, and after he was done ranting, Fukuzawa would smile and tell him he was proud of keeping his thoughts to himself.

It didn’t last long though, and as time passed, and the punching incident was pushed behind them, Ranpo began to fall back into old habits, but unlike before, the police didn’t seem to care about Ranpo’s sometimes cruel insults—most of the time they ignored the words as if they hadn’t been said in the first place, but those that did react, would just loudly shout Ranpo’s name and walk away. Ranpo always looked confused when that happened, but quickly put two and two together and learnt that when it did happen, it meant he’d gone too far for that particular officer, and he’d tone it down.

It was a bit of a strange dynamic, but it seemed to be working, so Fukuzawa wasn’t going to complain.

“We have a bit of a complicated case here today.” The officer in charge explained as he allowed Ranpo and Fukuzawa to enter the most recent crime they’d been called out to solve. “We’ve been unable to determine the cause of death, so it’s left us a little out of the loop.”

Ranpo opened his mouth, yelping instead as Fukuzawa gave him a harsh nudge, a warning look on his own face. Ranpo frowned, but changed what he’d been able to say earlier. “Well, that’s why I’m here isn’t it? To… help you figure that out.”

If the officer was surprised at Ranpo’s words, he didn’t show it, and instead, led them towards the body.

It was only because of his past occupation, that Fukuzawa didn’t flinch back at the sight of the body, the state of it leaving much to be desired, with no discernible features, and like the officer had said, a clear uncertainty as to what it was that had killed them. At first glance, it looked like the gunshot wound to the head was what had killed them, but then a further look revealed deep gashes up the forearms that could’ve just as easily been the cause of death with how much blood there was. But then there were other things that could also have been the cause of death, and Fukuzawa understood why the police were having so much trouble with it.

He watched as Ranpo studied the body for a moment, glasses already perched on his face. He could almost see the gears turning in Ranpo’s head as he ran through all the information that he was taking in right now. The rest of the officers were watching intensely, because as much as they were at odds with Ranpo’s personality, none of them could refute the skill the boy had in finding the things they had missed.

One minute passed, then two, then five, and still, Ranpo had said nothing. Fukuzawa stepped closer, able to see the growing panic on Ranpo’s face as the boy’s eyes flicked up to meet his own. “What is it, Ranpo?”

“I… I don’t know.” Ranpo removed the glasses as if they were the reason he couldn’t figure it out, and then placed them back on his face. “There’s no cause of death.”

“That’s not possible, something had to have killed them!” One of the officers exclaimed. “Are you sure you’re using that ability of yours correctly?”

But it’s not an ability. Fukuzawa thought as Ranpo shouted. “Of course I am! And I’m telling you, there’s no cause of death!”

“Then what killed them?”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s enough.” The officer in charge spoke, coming to place a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you can’t figure it out. You’re still just a kid, and I’m sure your ability has limits you don’t know about yet. We’ll take over from here. Thanks for coming out.”

“But—” Ranpo sputtered, eyes wide as he frantically looked between the body and the officer again and again. “I can solve this!”

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa interrupted, stepping forward to guide Ranpo away. “We’ve been asked to leave. We can’t do anything more here.”

“We’ll contact you if another body shows up.” The officer said, walking away to fall into discussion with the rest of his team, even though they didn’t understand the situation any better.

Meanwhile, Fukuzawa led Ranpo away, keeping a watchful eye on the boy as they walked. He didn’t like the look in the kid’s eyes; it reminded him too much of when he’d first met Ranpo, when the kid hadn’t been able to understand that he was different from the rest of the world and thought that everyone was making one big joke of him, when he’d thought of everyone else as monsters. Fukuzawa kept his hand on Ranpo’s shoulder as a way of providing him support; this was the first time that Ranpo hadn’t been able to figure out a case before, so he wasn’t sure how Ranpo would handle it in the first place.

He wasn’t surprised at all when they got home and Ranpo pulled away to shut himself in the bathroom.

Ranpo didn’t come out for the rest of the day.

That body ended up only being the first of many bodies. There was another body that popped up a few days later, and like before, Ranpo was called out to assist. But like before, Ranpo had been unable to figure it out, and he’d returned home looking even more dejected than before. And then there was a third body, and then a fourth, with no answer still as to what was killing these people. And with every body that showed up, it was easy to see how frustrated Ranpo was becoming; he snapped at the officers for more information and grew angry when they had none to give, he stared at the body for minutes on end—the longest being a full hour—hoping to find the one thing that would help him figure out what he was missing, only to gain nothing.

The worst part, Fukuzawa found, was watching as Ranpo pulled away from him. The moment they got home from the crime scenes, Ranpo would go to his room or the bathroom and just hide away until the next day, and no amount of coaxing seemed to be enough to get him to come out and talk to him. Fukuzawa didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle this. Ever since he’d first met Ranpo, the kid had always been able to see straight into the truth of matters, so to see him stumped like this… it wasn’t easy.

Any attempt that Fukuzawa tried to make at talking to Ranpo about it, even to just offer another set of eyes that might help find a clue, was met with straight up refusal, Ranpo either changing the subject or just rapidly leaving the room.

“What if it’s an ability?” One of the younger officers suggested on the seventh body that appeared. Immediately, all the heads in the vicinity snapped towards the officer, including Fukuzawa and Ranpo, who’d been called out despite being of no help the last six times they’d been called for. The officer faltered at the sudden attention, but continued to explain himself. “We’ve—We’ve seen it before, where despite an obviously murdered body, there appeared to be no actual crime, and it turned out to be because an ability was at work. It could be a similar case here.”

“If it’s an ability, then wouldn’t Edogawa have seen through it with his own ability?” Another officer speaks up, and the attention is thrown onto Ranpo, who remained crouched beside the body, refusing to lift his head, although he was clearly paying attention to what was being said. Fukuzawa stepped closer to the kid, uncertainty filling him at the direction this conversation was taking. The last thing he wanted was the police to start throwing accusations that Ranpo didn’t have an ability at all—which was true, but only Fukuzawa knew that.

“Edogawa’s ability probably needs information to work properly, but if there’s no information to gleam, then that would explain why his ability hasn’t been working.”

“You would be right!” Ranpo smiled and leapt to his feet, hands on his hips. To anyone else he looked ever the confident and arrogant boy he was, but Fukuzawa could see through him; Ranpo was bluffing. “But now that I know there’s an ability involved, I know who you’re looking for!”

“You do?” The young officer asked. “But it’s not a guarantee that—”

“Have I ever been wrong before?” Ranpo interrupted. Silence and shakes of heads greeted him. “That’s what I thought! It’s an ability, one that—”

“We’ve got him! The killer!” An officer shouted. “We caught him in a warehouse a few blocks over, in the middle of trying to kill someone!”

“How was he killing the victims?” Another called out, and several officers joined in with the questions, desperate to know the truth.

“Some complex machine. Apparently he’s a former engineer or something—”

Fukuzawa stopped listening then, eyes swinging towards Ranpo, who looked very much like his world had just come crashing down, because he’d just been telling the police that the killer was killing these people with the help of an ability.

Only to find out that it wasn’t an ability at all.

“Do you still need us here?” Fukuzawa asked the head officer.

The officer looked at him with a frown. “No, but—”

“I’ll be taking Ranpo home then.” Fukuzawa doesn’t give the man a chance to speak, and walks away before he can try and convince Fukuzawa to hang around a little longer. He knew it was rude, and that his actions would raise questions, but he wasn’t focused on that. No, he was focused on getting Ranpo out of there before the kid had a complete breakdown over the fact that for the first time in his life, he’d been wrong.

Ranpo didn’t say a word as Fukuzawa grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet, and followed behind obediently as Fukuzawa led the two of them away from the scene. They weren’t going home, not yet. There was something that Fukuzawa needed to say, but it wasn’t something he could very well say in the presence of police; Ranpo seemed to understand that something was happening because he remained silent, and didn’t say anything, even as Fukuzawa turned down a side alley and let go of him.

“You cannot lie to the police to protect your pride.” Fukuzawa didn’t yell, because yelling never helped, and Ranpo was already spooked enough. “You’re lucky that they caught the man before they had the chance to believe you, because then someone innocent could’ve ended up behind bars.”

“But I—”

“No buts, Ranpo!” Fukuzawa placed his hands on Ranpo’s shoulders and forced the boy to look at him. His touch was gentle, but still, Ranpo flinched under it. “You cannot lie. Not to the police, and especially not when murder is involved. The police trust you when they ask you for help. Lie to them and you’ll break that trust.”

“But I’m never wrong!” Ranpo cried out, and suddenly, there were tears forming in the boy’s eyes, and his lower lip was trembling. “I’ve never been wrong before. I can’t be wrong!”

Fukuzawa sighed, and brought Ranpo close to him. He really didn’t know how to handle this. Ranpo was such a complex child on the best of days, but had never outright failed at something before. Fukuzawa had a very strong feeling that the usual placations wouldn’t be enough to soothe him this time, but he’d still try. “Ranpo, you were wrong, and that’s okay. There will be times where you are wrong, where someone gets the better of you. It just so happened that this criminal was a little sma—”

“No! I don’t get it!” Ranpo interrupted, throwing his arms around Fukuzawa, and burying his face into his yukata. There weren’t any tears, not yet at least, but with the way Ranpo’s voice cracked as he spoke, they couldn’t be far away. “I am special! I am gifted! I’m supposed to see the truth to any crime!”

Fukuzawa winced at Ranpo’s words. The smart decision would be to try and tell Ranpo that he wasn’t actually an ability user, that he was just a regular boy that was insanely intelligent. But Fukuzawa wasn’t a smart man, and right now, the child he was supposed to take care of was in his arms, visibly distressed. He couldn’t add to that distress, even though it would probably help in the long run. So, he tightened his hold on Ranpo and brought him closer. “I know, Ranpo. But even gifts have limits, even yours.”

Ranpo sniffed, but kept his face hidden; not that Fukuzawa needed to see it to feel the tears that slowly stained his clothes.

Ranpo hid in the bathroom the moment they crossed the entryway into their shared apartment, and Fukuzawa watched the boy run off with a pensive look on his own face. Ranpo hadn’t cried for long before he’d wiped his eyes and began to walk, although he’d still looked upset. Fukuzawa had tried to cheer him up by offering to buy him some sweets, but Ranpo didn’t even respond to him. And he’d remained that way the entire journey. Fukuzawa had to admit, it scared him a little. He hadn’t seen Ranpo in such a state since the boy had come into his care, and he didn’t know what to do to help him. And it wasn’t like he knew anyone that could even help him—the few people he’d acquainted himself with were about as good with children as he was.

So, Fukuzawa resigned himself to doing one of the few things he thought might help; cook a simple dinner. He’d cook a meal and use that to coax Ranpo out of the bathroom and then sit the boy on the couch and try and talk to him again. And if Ranpo still didn’t want to talk to him, then that was fine too; they could try again tomorrow. Fukuzawa pottered around the kitchen, putting together one of the simple meals he usually made—one that took maybe ten minutes tops—and separated the dish into two servings.

Normally, Fukuzawa would make Ranpo eat at the dinner table with him, but just this once, he was feeling indulgent, and took the bowl with him as he went to try and coax Ranpo out. If he failed, he’d leave the bowl outside the door, instead of the microwave like he usually would. “Ranpo? I have some food for you.”

No answer, although Fukuzawa could hear soft, muffled cries from within the room. His stomach clenched, and he wanted nothing more than to throw the door open and comfort Ranpo, but the door was closed for a reason, and Fukuzawa wasn’t about to break into the safe space that Ranpo had chosen for himself. “Would you like to come out and eat with me?”

Still no answer.

“Alright…” Fukuzawa sighed, and placed the bowl just beside the door. “I’ve left your dinner outside here. Please try and eat some of it.”

He walked away, back towards the kitchen to grab his own meal when he heard the click of the bathroom door and glanced over his shoulder to see a small hand reach out and grab the bowl, the door shutting again. Good, a meal will help him feel better. But even though he knew that Ranpo was eating, he couldn’t dispel the worry that had built in his chest, and kept one eye on the bathroom door as he ate, silently hoping that Ranpo would come out.

But he didn’t, and the sounds from within the bathroom had ceased, so Fukuzawa could only assume that the boy had fallen asleep in there, and cracked open the door to find that he had been correct. Ranpo lay, curled up on the floor with a flushed face and tear stained cheeks. Silently, Fukuzawa stepped into the room and carefully lifted Ranpo into his arms before taking the boy to his own room, and tucking him into bed, making sure that Ranpo was buried underneath the absurd amount of blankets that the boy kept on his bed.

Fukuzawa took a moment to study Ranpo while he slept, observing how, even in sleep, the boy still seemed bothered by something. Today probably affected him more than he realizes. Fukuzawa sighed as he left the room, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click before making his way to his own room. He was almost certain that today was only the start of something bigger; he didn’t yet know what, but there was a feeling in his gut that was telling him to prepare himself.

So he would. He would watch and observe, and be there if he was needed.

For two days, Ranpo remained in his room, and ignored every attempt that Fukuzawa made in trying to talk to him. Fukuzawa tried not to let it bother him too much, assuming that Ranpo wanted some space to work through whatever was going through his mind. Trying to force Ranpo to talk to him would do nothing but make the boy shrink away from him further. He had to remember that they’d only been living together for a few months; not nearly enough time to have the level of trust that was probably needed in this situation. Because, despite Ranpo’s overly trusting nature, the boy wasn’t actually that trusting, even though he did a good job in making you think he trusted you.

Fukuzawa would be patient, though, knowing that when Ranpo was ready to open up, he would. But until then, Fukuzawa would do what he could, and that was make sure that Ranpo knew he was there if he did want to talk, and also make sure that the boy was eating. As far as he knew, Ranpo had holed up in his room without any kind of sustenance, so Fukuzawa always made sure to leave a few sweets on the tray that had taken residence outside the room, along with some water and a few words, before leaving to do some work of his own.

And every time he came to collect the dishes, they were empty, so that was something at least.

It was the middle of the night when Fukuzawa woke, and he didn’t know what it was that had woken him in the first place, but his instincts were screaming at him, the ones that only came to life when something was wrong. And considering that there was nothing wrong with him, and Ranpo was the only other one in the apartment…

Fukuzawa was worried.

He didn’t throw himself out of bed and dash from his room, but he wanted to, wanted nothing more than to hurry and check on Ranpo, but he forced himself to walk calmly, leaving his room to find Ranpo’s bedroom door wide open, and a light coming from the bathroom; the door cracked open just enough to let the light enter the hallway.

“Ranpo?” Fukuzawa called quietly as he came to a stop outside the door. There’s a noise that sounds like a whine, but not quite, from within.

“Leave me alone.” Ranpo said quietly, his voice muffled.

“Are you alright?” Fukuzawa asked, just as quiet.

Silence.

Fukuzawa hovered outside the room for just a moment, weighing up the pros and cons before ultimately deciding to enter the room. He pushed the door open slowly, giving Ranpo plenty of time to protest but the boy didn’t, and Fukuzawa was allowed entry.

Only, he wasn’t sure what to do now.

Ranpo was sat on the floor, back pressed against the tub with his face buried into his knees. At his feet, laid one of the kitchen knives, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why it was there in the first place. Fukuzawa’s breath hitched, which seemed to shake Ranpo out whatever thought he’d found himself lost in, because he looked up at Fukuzawa, his eyes reminiscent of people long since passed; eyes that belonged to people who were tired of life.

Eyes that didn’t belong on a fourteen year old boy.

“I didn’t do anything.” Ranpo murmured, eyes falling onto the blade. “I wanted to, but I didn��t.”

“I believe you.” Fukuzawa entered the room and paused. “May I sit?”

Ranpo nodded and Fukuzawa moved to sit beside the boy. Despite Ranpo’s promise that he hasn’t done anything, Fukuzawa still reached over and took away the temptation. Just in case.

“You could’ve come to me.” Fukuzawa said after the silence had dragged on for a while.

“I wanted to try and figure it out on my own.” Ranpo sighed, falling to the side to rest against Fukuzawa’s side. “I’m feeling things I don’t understand, and it just got too much.”

“So you took a knife to… what exactly?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” Ranpo huffed, dropping his head back to his knees and winding his arms around them. Fukuzawa was ashamed to admit that he tried to see if there were any wounds on the skin he could see, but was relieved when there were none. “I’ve felt this way before though. Before I met you. It was worse then, though.”

“How worse?” Fukuzawa asked, already fearing the answer.

“I had a plan worse.” Ranpo sighed, a heavy sigh that showed how tired he was. “I haven’t been doing well lately.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Ranpo hummed, and turned his head so he could look Fukuzawa in the eyes. “What if you don’t understand either?”

“I’ll do my best to.”

Another hum before silence descended upon the room, but Fukuzawa waited, knowing that Ranpo was simply trying to find the words that he needed to describe what he was feeling exactly. Fukuzawa already had an idea of what was bothering the boy; memories of angry police, and an unsolvable case coming to mind.

Finally, Ranpo spoke. “I don’t get people… not in the way you and the rest of the adults do. It was the same before we met, and… it got a little better after I found out I had an ability, but now… I feel like I’m right back where I started, and it bothers me. You kept getting mad about how I talked to the police, and they kept getting mad at me… and then those murders happened and you got more mad at me, and I failed, and… I just don’t know anymore.”

Fukuzawa thought over Ranpo’s words for a minute. He really didn’t have any idea on what he should say, how he could soothe Ranpo’s worries and fears without making things worse. The only thing he could really do was tell the truth.

So that’s what he did.

“I don’t have the answers you’re after, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said, reaching over and wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. Ranpo let out a sigh, but Fukuzawa continued to push on. “I’m doing my best to guide and raise you, but this is all so new to me; I’m not sure I’m handling it correctly. I don’t yet understand you in a way that I can help you through this without making it worse, but… I will do my best as I’ve always tried to do since you’ve come into my care.”

Ranpo leaned into the embrace. “I get it. I think. I also think you’re doing a good job.”

Fukuzawa nodded, glad that Ranpo was approving of the job he’d been doing. Maybe he was finally starting to get a handle on this parenting thing. “We’ll talk, and do some research, and maybe, together we can get through this and figure this whole people and emotions thing out.”

Ranpo huffed a laugh, a small smile on his face. “Together then."

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #hurt/comfort #angst #writing #fanfiction #fukudad

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mushroommanchanterelle · 2 months

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Part 3 of the Shakarian fic I'm writing

Wrex glances over at the elevator as it descends. There was only one person that ever came down on a daily basis. As the door opened, his suspicions were confirmed. Dressed in her uniform, hair pulled back into a low ponytail, was Eleanor Shepard. Garrus stops working for a moment, listening to the familiar cadence of her footsteps. She walked softly, or at least softer than Kaiden ever did. Human footsteps always sounded different than turian, krogan, or quarian, and Garrus was adept at telling the difference at this point. Eleanor walks past him, giving the briefest smile in his direction before greeting Wrex. Garrus’s mandibles clatter against the plates of his face as she walks off, his heart pounding, his mind racing from the talk that had just finished up.

Tali exchanges a glance with Garrus and pats his shoulder, excusing herself back to the engineering bay, no doubt to have a lengthy conversation with engineer Adams about why there was so much fuzzy pastel fluff in the maintenance hatches.

Eleanor looks up at Wrex and kicks her foot back and forth, blowing a strand of hair out from in front of her face. Soldier stands against warrior, neither saying a single word for at least an entire minute.

“Wrex, listen… I was wrong to say what I did. I’m sorry.”

He rolls his shoulders. This wasn’t the first apology he’d heard over the years. Usually it was more half hearted, an attempt to not get thrown face first across a bar.

“I didn’t know. I still don’t know. The genophage is… It’s still something I’m learning about. They don’t really cover it back at home.”

“Doubt they would. It’s not some pretty little lesson taught to schoolgirls. Your ignorance doesn’t bother me.”

She sighs and looks down, putting her hands behind her back.

“Still, I’m gonna make an effort to do better in the future. You’re lending a hand here. It’s the least I can do.”

“You do whatever helps you sleep soundly at night, Shepard.”

The krogan shifts to the side, the harsh lighting of the vehicle bay reflecting off of his bulky armor. His weapon, too, glistened under the fluorescent lights above, catching Shepard’s eye. She looks it over, earning a puzzled look from Wrex.

“What?”

“That’s uh… that’s a cool shotgun you’ve got there.”

“This thing? Picked it up off a dead turian during a raid. It’s nothing special. Cheap ammo, gets the job done.”

Eleanor stands back up, her posture relaxing.

“Turian shotguns are nothing to scoff at. Personally, I’m more into salarian stuff. They make a shotgun that shoots grenades! What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on one of them.”

“Ha! You would like something like that! Gotta give ‘em credit, those bastards know how to make something with a punch. The only problem is the lack of recoil. Guess their frail bodies can’t handle it, huh?” Wrex leans against the wall, punctuating his sentence with a hearty laugh. The tension in the room eases as the two smile and laugh together. Garrus watches on as they speak, an expression of blatant longing in his eyes as the turian detective pauses his work.

Eleanor shakes her head with a smile. “Yeah, no recoil, but there’s an explosion. I think that compensates enough.”

Wrex looks over Eleanor’s shoulder, catching Garrus’s eye. He nudges Shepard, gesturing over towards Garrus.

“You know, he’s been getting into shotguns lately.”

“Wait really? I thought he preferred something a bit more… I don’t know, precise? He’s not exactly a messy kind of guy.”

Wrex shrugs his shoulders.

“Who knows with that one. Probably doesn’t know what he’s doing though. You might want to let him know a few things so the poor bastard doesn’t hurt himself.”

Eleanor thinks a minute, then nods.

“Yeah probably. I’ll go talk to him about it. Thanks, Wrex.” Just before she turns around, Garrus looks to Wrex and silently mouths a thank you. He straightens his posture as Eleanor walks over to greet him. Near immediately, a waterfall of information spills from her lips, and he drinks up every drop. Wrex smiles to himself and closes his eyes.

“Knock ‘em dead, kid,” he thinks to himself as he drones out the sound of Shepard excitedly, and excessively, talking about the intricacies of shotguns compared to the rifles Garrus was more used to.

#Uncle Urdnot #wrex #urnot wrex #garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #commander shepard #tali'zorah #tali #mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect fanfic #fanfiction #I promised more mass effect #fluff

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whumpster-fire · 2 years

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Having Diesel 10 Thoughts

Certain recent incidents have made me reconsider and think actually given how Diesel 10 basically has basically an excavator arm I can see why everyone's intimidated by him.

Also I looked up his class and, holy shit I didn't realize that he was a fucking diesel-hydraulic. And also:

Added to this were practical problems modernising the D800s: because of the scaled-down bodyshell there was very little room inside for extra equipment. It was, for example, physically impossible to accommodate a compressor as well as an exhauster, so the locomotives were unable to haul newer designs of air-braked coaching stock. It also proved impractical to equip them with electric train heating (ETH) equipment for similar reasons, so they retained unreliable steam heat boilers to the end of their lives.

They couldn't even fit an air compressor in this class. What the hell did they do to fit this gigantic fucking hydraulic arm into him?

Each locomotive was powered by two Maybach 1035 hp (D800–802) or 1135 hp (D803–829, D831–832 and D866–870) MD650 engines coupled to Mekydro hydraulic transmissions.

Oh, god. Okay now I want to see a "realistic" Diesel 10 design where (a) the arm retracts to fit within the loading gauge, and (b) his front engine and other equipment like the steam heat boiler has visibly been completely removed to make room for "Pinchy."

Also these were passenger engines? So it seems unlikely that the claw would've been installed for maintenance of way work or whatever like I originally suspected, which probably means that Diesel 10 was employed by British Rail to hunt down and catch runaways like Oliver, and might have been given that claw for the express purpose of quickly tearing down improvised barricades like the one Oliver's crew used to hide him in a quarry siding in 'Escape', and of course for directly attacking and damaging them before dragging them to the scrapyard.

So, uhh, this raises the possibility that someone at BR just yoinked an arrogant young passenger engine off the express service he was running and gutted him, totally destroying his ability to do what he was originally designed for to turn him into a weapon.

(Also, like, some of the diesels in the series seem to just have names and not numbers or have nicknames they've "earned" by being nuisances, e.g. Spamcan and D.0261, Bear before joining the NWR, but every single one of the Class 42s was named. Did they, like, take his original name away as, like, a ritual severing of his ties to his identity? Obviously his number's different unless he was D.00810 / Cockade)

And then, just a few years after steam was finally abolished on BR lines, they declared his class, and his entire type of transmission, non-standard and they met the same fate as the steam engines he helped catch. Holy shit like I saw stuff about the early-generation BR diesels not having very long service lives but I did not fully process that the 28s, 42s, and Hymeks were withdrawn after only like 10 years, jesus christ.

Uhh, I guess that'd explain why he ended up on Sodor then? Did they immediately start getting rid of engines like Diesel 10 once they outlived their usefulness, or did they start sending him after other diesels and he got wise to the fact that his days were numbered?

Okay I have a horrible dark AU idea for how this went down since Magic Railroad's basically a Shining Time Station movie and doesn't quite fit the rest of T&F canon. Diesel 10 got sent to Sodor once to retrieve a "stolen" steam engine - possibly Oliver - and managed to terrorize and intimidate the NWR's residents while searching for the fugitive for a while because the law was very nominally on his side, until he fucked up and did something that let TFC kick him off the island even though he was there on official British Rail business (as opposed to the other diesels who kept getting booted off because they were on lease to help the NWR and were there at TFC's pleasure). Possibly something like attacking and damaging an NWR engine acquired through completely legal means, or even threatening / hurting / almost killing one of the human employees.

And then a few years later, he came back and one of the following happened:

Idea 1: Diesel 10 went rogue and came to Sodor with a massive grudge against steam engines because now it wasn't just his job, it was personal because so many preservationists had fought so hard against him to save their 'precious steamies,' and in his warped mind he believed that nobody was even trying to save diesels. When he got word that his class were being withdrawn he went straight to the biggest 'heritage' railway in the country determined to take as many steam engines down with him as he could. And possibly got blocked in a siding / shoved into some trap points / derailers and left to think about his actions.

Idea 2: Diesel 10 had more or less the same mindset, but he didn't go rogue, he was sent to Sodor to collect Boco or Bear! Because whoever was giving him orders at BR had the same idea and thought that TFC had only accepted any diesels reluctantly and no one on the NWR was going to actually fight for some obsolete nonstandard diesels. And they were horribly wrong.

Idea 3: Some dumb motherfucker on British Rail didn't check their paperwork and tried to send Diesel 10 after a fellow Warship without knowing what class he was, and he lost his nerve after his would-be victim recognized him, and finally got that there were no "winners" in a world where engines were nothing more than expendable tools. Long story short he ends up a fugitive himself, and possibly dragging one of the other Warships to Sodor with him. Or failing to do so.

#TTTE Fandom #Diesel 10 (TTTE)

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from-memphis-with-love · 1 year

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Synopsis: It's 1966. Elvis and Frannie are laying in bed and he pours his heart out to her about his mismanaged movie career. She comforts and encourages him. This will be incorporated into a later chapter of my fic, Gambling on Your Love. Enjoy!

“Wait, you’re serious? Parker takes fifty percent of everything you earn?”

Elvis is silent, but his nod speaks louder than words.

“Elvis, that’s robbery. Nobody’s manager takes fifty percent. He’s robbing you blind!” Frannie sits up in bed, covering herself with the blanket. “And he’s got you tied to a picture contract four years in advance? And you can’t give final say for scripts or storyline or anything else? If my manager did that to me, I’d kick him right in the ass and send him packing!” She is practically beside herself now, her arms crossed in indignation at the thought of him being exploited.

Elvis slinks lower into the blankets. “Yes,” he responds faintly as a whisper. “That’s how it is.” He takes a deep breath, “Y’know, there are some things I really wanna do. I want to be in a serious film. I want to make a classic film that people will remember. Sometimes I get violently ill thinking about the things they got me doin’. People don’t think I care, but I do. I care. I care,” he winces.

“So do it.”

The advice couldn’t have been simpler. Just do it.

Deep down, Elvis knows he’s a cash cow for so many that he can hardly think about himself, even to his detriment. As a good Southern boy, he never ever allowed himself to, not even back in 1954 when his star was starting to rise. Elvis has always put the others around him first.

I’ve got responsibilities, he tells himself. I’ve got people—hell, family—on payroll. Is it any wonder then, that he swallows his pride and lowers himself time and time again for the bottom-of-the-barrel projects Parker scrounges up? The kinds of things that not even a lesser star, let alone Elvis Presley should be doing?

He wishes with every fiber of his being that he could just fire the leech. But Parker, for all his carny faults, was there when Elvis was just a pup. He'd guided him, molded him, made him into the man he is today, including all of his riches and privileges. A man made of far sterner stuff, Parker took care of Elvis when his own blasted father couldn't. Elvis feels loyal to Parker and has given him his word, even though he sees more than anyone else that Parker's choices are tanking his career. This puts Elvis in an untenable position, for being at heart just a poor kid from Mississippi, loyalty is everything. And God, he's afraid. He's terrified that if he doesn't keep working somehow, all of it will disappear. He'll have to go back to driving a truck and everyone in his orbit will be destitute. The stress is unbearable.

"I have obligations and upkeep and maintenance, and everyone turns to me with their goddamn mouths open and hands out and eyes expectant," he growls.

Everybody except Frannie.

Elvis looks at her and his expression immediately softens for a moment. She has her own money and career and she's never asked a single thing of him except his love. And for that, he is eternally grateful.

In her bitingly direct New York way, Francesca Ferrara was the first person ever to give him the permission to be selfish. Now, her stark advice cuts through his fog like a knife and he sits up next to her, practically rumbling as his anger returns.

“I’ve had enough of these bullshit movies. If it’s got me singing in it, I don’t wanna do it anymore. I’m not who Hollywood thinks I am!” Elvis’ voice grows bolder. And Frannie knows it’s true. Her Elvis is an introspective person… soul-searching, even. A man who is surprisingly deep, thoughtful, and intelligent beyond his high school education. Frannie knows him to be gentle and kind and curious about the world. She smiles at the thought of the man she loves one day showing the world who he really is, testing his mettle with a meaty script or even playing to crowds abroad.

Elvis’ hands ball into fists of rage. “A-a-and I wanna go back to touring, especially outside the country. I miss going out and seeing the people. I miss making music I care about. I miss being on stage and connecting and moving and doing what I want to do. I’m sick of singing to turtles. Man, that shit is beneath me!”

Frannie can see the excitement building in his eyes, the hope flashing through them. It exhilarates her to see him this way, seeing him take front seat in his career for the first time in years, knowing that she's not the only one who believes in him—that he's finally starting to believe in himself, too.

“It is,” she adds, her voice a calming presence as she gently touches his arm. The thought of the world wearing him down makes her heart ache. She wants to care for him so badly. To just miniaturize him and carry him around with her all day to shield him from all harm and hurt.

“Elvis, you have the talent to do whatever you set your mind to,” she cards her fingers through his tousled hair, “So why don’t you go out and do it?”

#elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x oc #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis aaron presley #elvis fic

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heyclickadee · 1 year

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Trying to catch up on these so: Thoughts on “Truth and Consequences,” I guess (I'm sick, and the theraflu kicked in about halfway through writing this, so I'm not sure how much of this makes sense):

1. I am going to crawl into the television like a reverse girl from the ring and throw Palpatine down a maintenance shaft myself.

2. I don’t think that this is the last we’re going to see of Rampart and his trash shenanigans, but watching him get arrested by the coruscant guard while protesting that he was, “Just following orders,” was extremely satisfying. For now.

3. Palpatine was just waiting under the floor for Chuchi to present her evidence against Rampart, wasn’t he? Is this a normal thing? He just…waits for some BS that he orchestrated behind the scenes to come out and then rises up out of the floor like an omen of doom to manipulate the drama to his advantage? None of this is surprising—Palpatine’s always been about the high drama—but seriously. This evil son of a bitch—

4. Omega following Senator Chuchi around the senate building was adorable, but what a way for an at-most thirteen-year-old to find out she’s not legally considered a person. That none of her brothers are, either. Which means, of course, that she never knew that growing up on Kamino, and that the batch didn’t tell her.

5. Which…makes sense. They’re not trying to wrap her in bubble wrap like they were last season. She goes on missions, she’s plenty capable in a fight, and they trust her to be able to find her way in and out of trouble. But Hunter (and the rest of them, really) are trying to give her whatever scraps of childhood they can, and part of that means they do, to one degree or another, try to keep certain bits of information from her if they think that information could hurt her. Not all the time, especially when they absolutely can’t, but they still do from time to time. It’s a little like that moment back in “Ruins of War” when Echo tells Omega to go keep an eye on Romar. I don’t think Echo was that worried about Romar doing something, but he maybe did want Omega out of earshot so he and Tech could have a grown up conversation about what losing all that treasure meant for them without Omega having to hear it. And there might be a bit of self protection in there, too. It’s one thing for the adult batchers to understand that they don’t have representation in the senate and that a lot of the galaxy doesn’t consider them people; it’s always been that way and they’re probably resigned to that being the way things are. Explaining that to Omega, though, means being forced to see how this awful thing that’s just a background part of their lives also applies to her, and would probably force them to see how monstrous that really is.

6. Senator Chuchi’s little guilty look back towards Omega when it turned out this all played out exactly how Palpatine wanted, I’m--

7. I kept thinking the moment where Wrecker got shocked climbing the ladder was going to come back. It…did not.

8. Seeing how well they were able to pull of this heist kind of makes me wonder how much of the batch’s tattered success rate is them missing Crosshair (both emotionally and just not having him around to do his job), how much having to adjust to making sure their collective adopted daughter isn’t in immediate mortal peril at all times, and how much is being in completely unfamiliar territory. It’s got to be a mix of all three.

9. Speaking of success rates…what are they on this season? 0 for 6? 1 for 6 because Tech won the riot race? Does that count? Did Echo and Hunter deliver those nerf nuggets okay? I know they pulled this mission off, but it turns out pulling it off was the worst thing that could have happened, so….

10. Yes, I’m stalling.

11. Halle Burtoni (oh, Star Wars names. I love you) was not a character I expected to see back. I was a little surprised at how blithe she was about the apparent, you know, genocide of her people, but that didn’t come across as entirely sincere.

12. Okay, one sort of detached thing about Echo’s goodbye before I get emotional about it: When he tells Omega to keep up her training while he’s gone, and she replies with a tiny little, “Yes, sir,” that made something I’ve been wondering about clone family structure finally click. We joke a lot about how Hunter’s the dad and how Echo’s the mom, because they do in many ways each fill those roles, and I think that totally works. But there’s also the way in which they batch’s family and maybe clone family structure in general more mirrors military structure than anything else. Like. Okay, on one level, in the batch, they’re all siblings, but all siblings with different roles towards one another; on another level, all the adult batchers (apart from Crosshair, at this point, since he hasn’t had much time with her) are parents of one or more varieties towards Omega. And on another level, you’ve got the actual chain of command structure, where Hunter is the sergeant, Echo’s the corporal, and therefore second in command, but within this group of people “sergeant” no longer and perhaps has never just meant “the person in charge of this little group,” and same with “corporal.” Both of those roles in the context of the clones have a different and more familial connotation that doesn’t directly translate to familial roles we might be more familiar with in our world. Does that make sense? At all? I might be rambling. I think I’m rambling at this point. (But also, yes, they’re also all dads and Echo is also the mom in addition to being a dad.)

13. Yeah okay, the goodbye

14. I didn’t cry the first time. Listen, I’m not that emotionally demonstrative unless I’m really annoyed or intentionally exaggerating to get a point across (which I do a lot), I don’t cry that often, and if I do it’s almost never about something that’s happening in real life. Crying about fiction is a lot safer, more cathartic, and just easier, so I sort of save it up for that. The first time around though, the goodbye didn’t get me. Don’t get me wrong, it hit me like a freight train through the crystal palace, but the episode was a lot, and I was kind of too overwhelmed to really feel my feelings about it. The second time around, though, when I was able to actually take it in and watch the emotions play out on the characters faces and see how gentle and tender the whole thing was? Oh boy, the waterworks. I will be suing for emotional damages. (I won’t be suing for emotional damages, but full credit to everyone on the T BB crew for making that scene what it was.)

15. The writers did something a little bit interesting here by NOT showing us the conversation that Hunter and Echo clearly had about this or the (I think) other conversations that Hunter, Echo, Tech, and Wrecker had about this later on. On the one hand, I would have liked to have seen these conversations, because I think they were probably quite a bit more emotionally heavy than the upbeat goodbyes we got from the boys. This seems to have been something Hunter and Echo have been planning for a long time, since probably the apparently life-changing nerf-nugget run at least. Not that Echo would definitely leave on this specific mission of course, but that Hunter and Echo agreed the next time there was an opportunity for Echo to go with Rex, he would, if he felt it was the right time.

Everything about the scene tells us that those conversations happened. Not showing us those conversations, however, put us into Omega’s shoes for that moment. We know these men talk when they know (or think—see episode one) Omega’s not listening. They didn’t tell her this was a possibility, for a whole bunch of reasons including keeping Omega from trying to convince Echo to stay to not wanting to hurt her and so on, and they didn’t have time to tell her it was going to happen right then until it was happening, because Echo probably didn’t decide that then was the right time until they were waiting for Omega to come back from the senate building. And the effect of not showing us those conversations or telling Omega this could happen is for Omega (and by extension, us) have the rug pulled out from under her. It puts us in her shoes. So even though we the audience have been expecting this for a while now, it feels like a surprise, it still hits, and hits hard.

16. I was so glad Echo left on good terms. This is so much better than the batch breaking up because of a fight. I love that he and Hunter are kind of on the same page, but on different paths, and how clear it was that Echo didn’t really want to leave. That moment when Rex tells him that, “Good help is hard to come by these days,” and Echo just collapses in on himself? He doesn’t want to go. The batch is his family, they’re his brothers, just as much as Rex is, Omega’s his daughter as much as she’s Hunter’s, and this is a group of people that took him in and helped him recover after the hardest period of his life. He loves them, and he doesn’t want to go. But he feels like he has to. He’s too good, he cares too deeply, and he’s been through too much not too. And Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker understand that. They’re not going to hold it against him; they support what he’s choosing to do, even though they can’t follow him into it right now, so they make sure he knows he still has a place with them, and always will.

17. Dear character animator/animators who animated the range of expressions on Echo’s face as he was trying to explain to Omega why he had to go, including and especially those couple of moments when he was obviously trying not to cry? You have my whole heart. Also, I’m in pain.

18. Dear storyboard/layout artists who decided that this goodbye scene needed to parallel Omega’s last goodbye to Crosshair on that Kaminoan platform…you also have my whole heart, but. Ow.

19. While I do understand why the batch didn’t tell Omega, I also feel like that’s something that’s going to bite them in the butt. I mean, in a “Omega internalizes what she sees as her family breaking apart as something that’s her fault and does something reckless to try to make up for it” kind of way. They're trying, but they have a lot to learn about raising kids.

20. I would like to see the apparently life changing nerf-nugget field trip, please.

21. What did Hunter tell Echo?? Is it just the, “If you ever feel like you don’t fit in with them, come find us,” thing? What waaas iiiittttt I need to knooooooowwwww

22. I did like that this was sort of underscored as a temporary goodbye. Between Echo telling Omega that he’d be back and Hunter telling Rex to call them if he ever needed anything, this is temporary. But it’s still heartbreaking, because these characters mean a lot to each other and we don’t know how long they’ll be separated.

23. Sidebar, kind of, but how much do you want to bet that the boys all agreed to keep those final goodbyes light so they wouldn’t upset Omega? And how much do you want to bet that they all agreed that backfired spectacularly afterwards?

24. Omega hugging Lula in that final shot looking so small and scared I can’t 🥺😭😭 someone help her she is not okay

25: Complete sidebar, but you know that moment when Echo took control of the venator cruiser and its guns and engines single handedly? And that other moment where he stood up and said he'd be Senator Chuchi's witness even though it would put him in incredible danger? He's so good (your hand in marriage, sir!)

26. Echo, please come back soon!!

#the bad batch #tbb spoilers #tbbspoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season two #I’m dying Scoob

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sen-no-kotowari · 2 years

Text

S Vera Interlude: The Hero’s Name Ch 1

Chapter 1: The Hero and The Grim Reaper

A hero must become the champion of the masses—that is absolute, no matter what the price must be paid for it to bring to fruition.

The moment the door of Cerberus’ break room opened, white smoke has been exuding from the inside. Vera, who stood in front of the door, coughed persistently. She frowned as she saw her clothes become filled with white dust and her hands continuously cleared off the smoke that was coming out of the room.

???: You’re going to have to die when the Captain gets back, Noctis.

??: WAAAH! AAAAH!! AAAAAAHHH!

Although Vera couldn’t tell who the two figures were from the smoke, she knew the people behind those voices very well.

Vera: Care to explain yourselves as to what the hell this is?

A white silhouette emerged from the white smoke. The small young woman brushed off the white dust covering her as hard as she possibly could, just like some small animal.

No. 21: Noctis made a dangerous explosive inside the break room, Captain. But Li’l One and I stopped him.

The red-haired man came out of the smoke like nothing happened. A small robot tightly clung onto that man’s face, as though he was wearing an avant-garde gas mask.

Noctis: AAAAH!! WAAAH!

Vera: Translate, what’s he spouting now…

No. 21: Noctis says “My bad, it’s my fault.”

Noctis aggressively tore the small robot named “Whatchamacal-link”—perhaps it was named like that since it was easy to remember—as he finally was able to speak normally again.

Noctis: No. 21, you little-! It exploded because you kept poking your nose where it didn't belong!

Even though No. 21 was intimidated by his deep voice, Noctis ignored it. The Whatchamacal-link threw itself at Noctis for a second time.

Vera: Hmph, I don’t care what in the world you two are doing, but don’t be overly rowdy here… Just to remind you two, there’s still a rule we have to follow in using this room, so to speak.

The three of them were drawn together due to various circumstances around them and as of the present, they’re currently affiliated under Eden’s Cerberus Unit. Although it was a recently formed unit, they were pretty famous in both good and bad ways. Vera kicked the tables and chairs that fell on the floor, opened her locker, and briefly did maintenance on her weapon.

No. 21: Is it a mission, Captain?

Vera: Nothing concerning the both of you. The one they’re offering the mission this time is just me.

No. 21 looked at Vera with a perplexed look on her face and vaguely hesitated—Vera goes on a mission alone from time to time, and the result of those solo missions aren’t recorded in any files.

No. 21: Are… Noctis and I… pulling you down?

Noctis: Now you’re just being dumb. It’s ‘cause you and this dumb robot are dang scrawny that you two are pulling down me and Vera.

Noctis dodged the incoming charge of Whatchamacal-link as he screamed disparagingly. But in less than a couple of seconds later, it managed to attach itself to the back of his head.

Noctis: You damn pipsqueak…! I’m gonna send you flying outta here this time!

No. 21: Li’l One… won’t lose!

Vera promptly excused herself from the break room before the two other members started their quarrel. She silently leaned on the side of the break room’s door and lowered her head, closing her eyes as she heard the commotion happening inside the room. And then, she opened them the moment her hand touched the cold hilt of her blade and the look in her eyes shined fiercely. Eventually, Vera started walking towards her destination without ever looking back.

Vera: What I have to do was, obviously, already predetermined…

(......)

Vera entered Nikola’s office and inside, there was another Structure with him. She noticed that and lightly clicked her tongue as she immediately tried to leave.

Nikola: And where are you going? Get back here. It’s almost time to assemble.

The missions tasked to the Cerberus Unit, under Nikola’s immediate supervision, were confidential. Other people don’t know the existence of those “missions” Vera independently took part in.

Vera: Aha… Are you for real…?

Vera took a glance at the other Structure in the room. It was someone she wasn’t acquainted with, but Nikola silently nodded at her.

???: Hello there, Miss Vera. I’m—

Vera ignored the hand the unfamiliar Structure held out, and sat down on a vacant chair. The Structure held his hand in as if he had done something wrong.

Vera: …It’s fine. You’ll take full responsibility for this mission, I assume.

Nikola: That is nothing of your concern… I’ll introduce you. This person here is Royd. Both of you will be paired up and shall conduct the upcoming mission together.

Vera: …Okay, who is he? Is he some kind of spoiled, rich manchild from somewhere?

Vera furrowed her brows as she stared at Royd, who was beside her. His standing posture was dignified and sophisticated. One could say that he doesn’t belong in the dreadful and chaotic war zone.

Vera: I believe I told you this before though… No need to give me an assistant, I can do things by myself.

Nikola: I didn’t summon you here for a discussion. You don’t have any choice other than accepting this mission.

Royd: And for the record, I’m not a spoiled manchild. I am a soldier of Eden, same as you, Miss Vera.

Given the circumstances around the “mission,” all the information about that Structure soldier was perfectly recorded for the most part. Yet she was unacquainted with him—she simply had heard of the name “Royd” before.

Vera: Royd… Roy…

There was a certain rumor floating around the soldiers in Eden—A Structure that goes by the name “Royd” is a soldier just like them, but he possesses an incomparable ability and has a particularly remarkable military record. In addition to what was stated, he has all the luck even when faced with dangerous situations and manages to survive because of the “Consciousness Transmission.” He was Eden’s champion who was able to return from the frontline operations of the Earth Recapture time and time again—”Roy the Immortal.”

Nikola: You seem to be familiar with his background. There’s no need for further introductions, then.

Vera thought that the rumors were overly absurd and can’t be completely trusted. But right now, the hero from that legend was actually right in front of her.

Vera: …The immortal “hero” and the “grim reaper” …What kind of chemistry will this pairing give, I wonder.

Royd: Miss Vera…

Vera: …Well now, guess you’re not as clever as what the rumors say.

Before Royd could ask the meaning behind her words, Vera suddenly hoisted her weapon.

Vera: Fine, I’ll be going on ahead then… Mister “Hero.” Commander Nikola already sent the mission details to my terminal anyway.

Royd looked at Nikola. Although Nikola didn’t seem to accept Vera’s attitude, he faced Royd and signaled Vera with his hand without uttering a single word. After Royd and Vera left, Nikola’s gaze returned to the holographic screen once more. A strategic map that covers the entire Earth was displayed on the screen.

Nikola: Now Royd, you’ll have to continue to play the part of becoming a “hero” from today onwards.

On that map, the battle situation of the Elite Squad was shown in real time along with the number of deceased and missing Structure soldiers noted in an overly simplified manner—the names were abbreviated and only a simple code plus the time were indicated.

Nikola: No matter what may happen, no matter what the price to pay will be…

#pgr #pgr vera #punishing gray raven

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boundlss · 2 months

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hc + 🐈, hc + 😃, hc + 🎵 for Shiroe!

hc + 🐈 for a pet/animal-themed headcanon

shiroe's ideal pet would be a cat, because compared to dogs they're usually generally low-maintenance, but they also have high enough needs that they'd force him to take occasional breaks from his computer, which he's aware enough to know he needs but not aware enough to remember to take them.

that said, he's actually a little allergic to them in real life, and doesn't have the room in his apartment for one (nor the extra money in his monthly allowance his parents send him to support himself). also, he'd never admit this to anyone because he'd never hear the end of it from nyanta, who already gets his kicks from sending shiroe cat-related items and fake-roleplaying as a housecat around shiroe anyway.

hc + 😃 for a happiness-themed headcanon

shiroe was actually largely not a consistently happy person before the catastrophe. he was definitely content with his situation and did a lot of things he enjoyed doing, but i think a very big part of his brain considered what he was doing to be a waste of his life. even taking classes was secondary to him, which he internally thought was something pretty pathetic.

as such, he actually became a lot happier as a person when the catastrophe happened. not immediately, but when the round table had sort of settled into being an established governing force for the adventurers, he started realizing that despite the higher stakes on his life now, he actually felt like there was something he was really, honestly doing.

i don't think there's objectively anything wrong with the way shiroe was living his life, but the general culture of working hard in japan had sort of ingrained itself into him in a way that sort of took the form of "my parents worked so hard they barely even saw me, and they still send me enough money to pay for my expenses even now, but i can't even get out of my apartment most days" and really made him feel bad about himself even though he LIKED playing elder tale and making the content he did for that.

anyway, it was just really good for him, the catastrophe. i think he sort of dreads the possibility that he may have to go back to not being where he is.

hc + 🎵 for a music-themed headcanon

actually, shiroe was never really a huge music person. that's not to say he didn't like music at all or anything but there weren't ever a lot of artists he kept up with in the old world and there are more important things to focus on now than the production of new music---though he sometimes listens to isuzu play when she does so at the base.

he'd only occasionally put music on when he was doing raids in elder tale---a lot of them had auditory cues but the game's built-in captions were actually a better, more accurate substitute for those cues anyway so he could get away with some quiet, lyric-less music for things he'd already run to hell and back before. it was all just soundtrack-esque music though. without lyrics.

headcanons. / accepting.

#muse: shirogane kei #starwonderz

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oraclememehacker · 5 months

Text

Haru and Futaba’s Bonding Moment

“I’m surprised that you’re still around Futaba. Usually, you’re squirreled up in your room at this point.” Sojiro remarked with a good-natured chuckle as Futaba was sitting at one of the booths with her switch out. Who knew what she was doing but apparently it was important as she was laying on her back and playing it pretty intently. Her mind was an enigma to the old man, but she mattered to him immensely. “Oh, I’m here for a reason. One of the others is coming over.”

One of the others meant her friends, the group that she hung out all the time. Sojiro knew that much anyways. “Ah. Which one?” He was more curious than anything, and with Futaba, he never knew what the answer was going to be. “You’ll know when they arrive.” She told him in a casual fashion as she was playing on her switch still. As always, she wanted to be cryptic. Oh well. “Should I prepare them the usual then?”

As he asked, the familiar chime of the door could be heard as the door opened, and who was it? None other than Haru Okumura, who was here for the express purpose of seeing Futaba. They had chatted via text about meeting up, and now was the time. There was a warm radiating energy coming off Haru that seemed to have the ability to cheer up even the most disheartened individuals. It was like a superpower really.

When Haru saw Futaba at the booth, she immediately got more excited. “Futaba-chan!” Futaba put her switch on the table and got up, seeing the floofy woman. “Haru!” The two rushed towards each other and gave each other a big hug, getting caught up in the moment as the two were simply really happy to see one another. It had been a little bit, and now they were going to just chat it up. Whilst playing Stardew Valley, which was the main plan.

“You want the usual, Okumara-san?” Sojiro asked and got a little nod of confirmation. “Coming right up then. You two enjoy yourselves.” The two of them let go of the hug and were beaming. “I haven’t had a chance to play this with you in a while Futaba-chan. I’m glad we’re getting back together for this.” Whilst Haru didn’t play many games, Stardew Valley really did hit the spot for her, and playing with a veteran like Futaba made it all the better.

“I know. I’ve been making sure the farm is doing alright. Just a few little things, don’t worry. We haven’t missed any major milestones or anything. Okay, let’s get to it then.” They would sit in the booth, getting ready as Haru joined via local play. Then they would start things up, tending to their farm which was coming along quite nicely with it still being the first year and all that. As they were chatting amongst themselves about their plans for the rest of fall in game, Haru spoke up.

“So, how have you been Futaba-chan? Has school been well for you?” Haru figured with a genius like Futaba, she probably wasn’t having much trouble academically speaking. The problem was with the socialization. She had heard about how much Futaba was bullied in school growing up, it was part of what lead to her to being so anti-social after all. “Yep, school’s been fine. Honestly, I think it’s been quite dull.”

“Well, I guess dull is better than having a bunch of bad stuff happen. Are your grades doing well?” When she got the answer of yes, that made her feel good. “Good. I bet you’ll be top of your class easy. You’ve taught me so much about computers and other assorted things.” Like the fact that booting didn’t mean kicking it with a boot. Though the term did come from bootstrap, so it had more to do with a boot than one would expect. Along with just some other basic computer maintenance stuff.

“You didn’t make it easy though.” Futaba told Haru with a sweat drop. “No offense.” Of course, there was no offense taken. “But you learned pretty well all things considered. I tried to teach some people on the internet through forums and it was like trying to teach a cat how to not hate water. Some people can be so dense and stupid I swear.” That just got a good hearty laugh to come from Haru. “Anyways, yeah, things are going well. How about you?”

“Me? Just fine all things considered. I’m getting ready to head to college for business. That way when I take over the company properly, I’m well versed in the ways of keeping the company going. Plus I want to open those cafes and keep growing my own food.” For Futaba that was like learning Greek, but she was quite proud of Haru for all of that. They both had goals and were heading towards them. It was quite nice.

Sometime would pass, and they kept playing, Haru eating her curry that was prepared by Sojiro, getting towards the end of fall in game. They loved their little bonding session, as it was a way for them to just relax, and for Haru to not have expectations placed upon her. As they were playing, a curious question entered Haru’s mind. She wasn’t sure why it did, but it was nagging at her and if she didn’t at least ask it, it would probably bug at her heavily. “Hey Futaba-chan, I have a question. It’s a weird one, but I’m curious.”

“Hmm? What’s up?” Futaba had an inquisitive tone to her voice as she was wanting to know what this weird question was. “I know boss is your father basically at this point, but have you ever wondered about your biological dad? You only seem to talk about your mom after all.” Well, that was certainly a weird question anyways. And one that was out of left field.

But it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it before. Hell, it was something that she asked her mom a long time ago. She had seen plenty of parents with mothers and fathers, but Wakaba was an only mother. Even when Sojiro was in the picture, they just stayed colleagues for most of it, even though it was clear there was quite a friendship, and had circumstances been slightly different, possibly been together romantically.

It took her a little bit to get over her surprise of the question before shaking her head. “I haven’t really put much thought into who my actual father was. Because my mom only told me he was “a scumbag who didn’t want anything to do with her” and told me not to worry about it.” Haru was slightly dumbfounded by that, but also curious. “Huh, she must have had her reason for that.”

“Yeah, she did go into a bit more detail about it.” Now that Futaba didn’t have the truth of things clouded from her mind due to all the guilt, she remembered so much more from her childhood. Even things that didn’t really think about all that much before her death. This was one of those things. “My mom had gotten her master’s degree and was planning on working on a doctorate when she met him and ended up getting pregnant with me.”

She went on to explain that whilst the pregnancy wasn’t really in the cards at the time, and she was worried about how this would affect her future, in the end Wakaba found that taking care of a child could be a good challenge, and that she wasn’t planning on having an abortion or anything like that. And then apparently, he told Wakaba that he wasn’t going to take care of said child and they got into a massive argument and left. From there, they never spoke again and of course, that was the story of how Futaba was born. Hearing that made Haru frown, but she also understood, at least a little bit.

But that didn’t make what that guy do acceptable, at least in Haru’s eyes. And she now understood fully why Futaba’s mom didn’t really want to bring it up. “Yeah, I get it. Sorry if I brought up anything uncomfortable.” She didn’t want Futaba to feel bad or to ruin the mood or anything. It just popped up in her mind after all. “Nah, I was young and after the explanation she gave me, I mostly stopped thinking about it. That’s why I said I didn’t put much thought into it.”

Though now that she was thinking about it, the thought about Haru’s father came up. How he had put her in that awful arranged marriage, how he treated his employees like they were robots, and his unfortunate death thanks to Akechi killing him, all for the sake of putting a target on the Phantom Thieves back. She wondered how Haru was feeling still, since the pain of that was farther away now.

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but how do you feel about your father and what happened to him, Haru?” That definitely changed the subject a bit, and Haru just let off a sigh. “Now that I’ve had time to really think about it, I mostly still just feel angry about his death.” It was a perfectly reasonable feeling to have, considering the circumstances.

“When I think about all the awful things that my father did, you would expect for me to hate him. And there’s definitely a part of me that does. There’s however a bigger part that knows that he wasn’t always that way and needed to be showed the errors of his ways. That’s why I don’t regret helping you all change his heart. And it seemed like he was going to have to face all the sins he did head on.

But of course, that wasn’t the case, and he died, live on air. While she was understandably upset at it, the fact of the matter was, in her mind anyways, she saw this as an escape for him. It was a way for him to ultimately get away from dealing with his guilt. It was like a get out of jail free card and that made her more frustrated than anything. She just wanted him to get better and deal with the consequences of his actions.

And instead, he was robbed of that. It made her grit her teeth momentarily before she calmed herself down. “All because of Akechi. I know he’s a victim just like the rest of us but…he still willingly did what he did. It wasn’t like Shido put a gun to his head and made him do all of those stuff.” A sharp exhale escaped her nostrils before she managed to calm herself down fully.

“Yeah…” Was all that Futaba could muster, at least initially anyways. Her feelings about Akechi were complicated as well. On one hand, he was someone who was incredibly talented and smart, and she could respect him for the stuff he managed to do. But on the other hand, he hid behind masks and his true self rarely showed. And who knows if the Akechi they saw whilst Maruki had the ideal reality going was his true self.

As Haru said, even though he was a victim like them, he made his choice when it came to that. He did what he did in order to gain favor with his illegitimate father who was merely using the power that he acquired in order to gain more and more power, and to ultimately put Japan in ruins. Futaba could never claim that she would willingly want to be friends with Akechi, but she wouldn’t outright state how much she hates him. Merely mess with him in the way that she always did.

Futaba then did pull Haru into a hug as the two were calming each other down. The conversation had gotten quite personal and upsetting, so they needed this. “Let’s just agree that Akechi was a complicated person, like a heavily multi-faceted person, and agree that we don’t hate him, but can’t exactly forgive him either.”

That seemed to be one thing that they both agreed on. They could never forgive him, not fully for the crimes he committed, but wouldn’t downright hate him either. That would be the way they would feel about him for the rest of time, since he seemed to not be coming back, due to being well, dead. But if he did somehow come back to life, that’s how they would feel.

Pushing that aside, they finished playing Stardew Valley, and had to stop as their Switches were going to die. Plus Haru had to get home so nobody would be worried about her. They both got out of the booth and gave each other another tight hug. They really did enjoy their time together like this. And Haru even gave the orange nerd a kiss on the cheek. That made her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink.

“Thanks for having me today Futaba-chan. We must do this some other time, sooner rather than later.” An agreement was made on that. “Oh and thank you for the meal boss.” Sojiro shrugged it off like it wasn’t all that big of a deal. “I’ll see you later, you two!” And with that, she was off, back home. Futaba just let off a little happy sigh before heading back to her house as well, opting to lay on the bed in her room and just think about things. A lot of things.

#Hacking and Memes (Futaba Sakura Musing)#The Oracle Navi (Futaba Sakura IC)#Kind and Gentle Presence (Haru Okumara)#Short Stories (Drabbles)#long post #slight Futaba/Haru implications #Post Persona 5 Royal #death implications tw

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