#i know how to make the warble sound though!! for inklings

[arclundarchivist]

Home, Again.

(Spoilers from Campaign 2 Episode 141, it has been a lovely ride, and I will admit, this mostly going to be me getting a bit into my own personal fantasy, but I hope it is enjoyed.)

Caleb, a little grayer in his hair, stands on the beach staring out into the ocean, a wide smile on his face as he turns and sees several small forms racing about, clashing fake swords, delving into the water cautiously, or just doing what children are want to do. Veth's little "camp" had picked up steam, numerous children from across the breadth of Nicodranus coming to learn how to be, well, how to play at being adventurers. He'd managed to take a bit of time off from the academy, nervous still about the prospect but...he'd been drawn away for an excellent reason.

His family.

Nine years had passed since their battle in Cognouza. Nine years since they had become the unsung, though oft whispered. heroes of all of Exandria.

He'd seen them all from time to time across the years, coming together for birthdays and moments of joy and surprise, but now, was a time for true celebration.

He turns and spots Veth and Yeza, standing shoulder to shoulder nearby, watching the waves roll in, hunting perhaps like he was, for the behemoth that was the Nine Heroez to pull into port. On Veth's hip is a little girl, with a mane of curled, wild hair much like her father with a deeper skin tone like her mother: Molly.

Veth turns and looks up at him, "Do you seem anything?"

"Not yet, but they'll be here. I can't imagine they'd miss this for the world." Caleb responds, squeezing her shoulder before reaching down, letting the gently cooing Molly take his finger and squeeze.

He turns and looks back, spotting several other figures arrayed across the beach that he had reached out to in the planning of this event.

Shakaste is perched on a rock, telling a soothing story to an enraptured crowd of kids, which included Luc, and to his amusement Twiggy, who had arrived at the party seemingly out of the blue.

Running towards him, chased by her youngest adoptive siblings is Kiri. Veth invited her family to partake of Nicodranus and allow the kids a bit of fun during the summer months.

Kiri skids to a halt kicking up sand, standing almost to his chest now, several makeshift bandoleers and her collection of tinkered baubles resting on her chest and along her belt. She smiles up at him widely, chirping excitedly.

"Come on! Beau, Yasha! She's probably a good egg!" Kiri warbles, mimicking several voices she'd heard, tugging on his and Veth's hands.

Laughing, Veth passes Molly to her husband, and the pair allow Kiri to drag them all the way to the edge of the beach, where Beau and Yasha are approaching. They both look a bit older but more at peace, Yasha dressed in dark but less severe clothing, hints of Dynasty garb on the both of them. He also notices two figures walking a step behind them, looking a bit shy.

"I missed you!" Kiri crows, darting for the pair and hugging tight to their legs.

"Hey, Kiri," Beau says with a soft smile.

"Hello, Little Bird," Yasha says, giving Kiri a head scritch.

She coos cheerfully before darting back up onto her perch and scanning for signs of the others.

Beau looks at Caleb and wraps him in a tight hug, "Hey, Professor."

"Expositor," Caleb mutters, wrapping his arms around her and then doing the same to Yasha, who practically picks him up off his feet.

Beau kneels and hugs Veth, whispering, "Chaos Crew!"

"Almost." Veth states, "Hopefully, she'll be here soon."

Caleb looks past his dear friends and blinks in surprise as he spots Beauregard's Mother and younger brother TJ.

"Oh, uh, hello, thank you for coming." Caleb mutters, rubbing the back of his head, "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Caleb Widoghast."

Veth narrows her eyes slightly at Beau's mother: "Veth Brenatto."

"Clara, I do remember you," she remarks, nodding to them both briefly.

"Good, because I-" Veth begins only for Beau to place a hand on her shoulder.

"Down, Veth," Beau remarks, earning a chuckle from Yasha.

"Fine," she remarks, still giving Beau's mother a bit of a stink eye.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. There is some food and drink nearby, and blankets to spread out as you wish," Caleb states.

"Thank you," Clara says, turning to leave the four of them while TJ hangs back next to his sister, looking up at her uncertainly.

"Go have fun." Beau says, pointing to Luc and Kiri, "Those are the other kids I was telling you about, just don't get into too much trouble, okay?"

TJ gives her a shy grin, "No promises."

And then runs off, Caleb noticing the small sticks that he wears across his back.

"A chip off the old block, eh?" Caleb asks as Beau throws an arm around him.

"Not exactly, way more shy!" Beau states, looping her arm around Yasha's as Veth grabs his hand, "Four of the Nine, any words on the others?"

"Not yet, but they'll come," Caleb says.

"Good, I brought you all flowers from our garden." Yasha states, holding up a new book, filled to the brim with dried flowers, "You both look very good."

Veth smiles: "I'm with my family, and even more are on the way; I'm wonderful."

Caleb nods: "It will be good to see everyone again."

"Speaking of everyone," Beau states, unlooping her arms from her partner and friend, "Yo, Shakaste! I think it's past time you and I compared notes on some things."

Shakaste turns from his story to Luc and the other kids, the former getting dragged away by Kiri for a conversation with TJ, while Twiggy looks around him and her face widens in a deep grin.

"I mean, I agree, but I thought this was gonna be a day of fun, not work?" Shakaste remarks with a knowing smirk.

"I can do both," Beau says with a shrug of her shoulders as she walks towards them.

"I have notes too!" Twiggy cries, darting towards Beau and beginning to ramble, while Yasha turns and walks towards Yeza, the pair beginning a softer conversation as Yasha, ever so gently gives her hand out for Molly to play with.

Caleb and Veth end up sitting shoulder to shoulder on the beach, waiting and watching as their friends and number of children mill about them and are deep in conversation, when the sound of a firework going off draws all of their attention.

There is a collective jump amongst the party, the more martial figures immediately going on the defensive, with Yasha pushing Yeza behind her only for it to be quickly revealed to be Kiri once more, tearing away from Luc and TJ, now shouting.

"Jester! Jester! I missed you!"

Not a moment later, Twiggy is peeling off as well, with Veth, Caleb, Beau, and Yasha at a more sedentary step behind as approaching them arm in arm is Fjord and Jester, wide smiles on their face, Nugget loping ahead of them and teleport tackling Luc, who falls with a laugh as the dog begins licking his face.

Behind them, walking arm and arm is The Gentleman and Marion, followed by Orly and Vandren, and next to them, to Caleb's surprise, is Caliana.

"Kiri!" Jester cries out, sliding to her knees and wrapping the young Kenku in the tightest hug and spinning her about, revealing the swaddled bundle on her back which giggles in surprise at the momentum.

"And Twiggy!" Jester cries, drawing the gnome into a tight hug as well before ping-ponging to her friend with deep, tearful hugs and cheek kisses, going from Veth to Yasha, to Beau, and then to Caleb.

"Veth, so, about the Detective Agency...I'm sorry that I've been so busy...but." Jester began as she hugs her.

"Don't worry, Jessie, I'm glad you're here," Veth says, hugging her tightly.

"Yasha, my god, you look so beautiful! I missed you so much!" Jester cries, running her fingers through flower-filled hair.

"Thank you, Jester, I missed you too." Yasha states with a soft smile as she looks down over Jester's shoulder into the teal face of a small Tiefling toddler, the hint of a tusk coming in on the left-hand side, "And this little joy."

She tickles the bottom of his chin, eliciting a laugh, a smile widening on her face: "Hi, Charlie."

"Beau!" Jester cries, pulling her into a bone-cracking hug.

"Hey, Cutie." Beau returns, hugging her back and patting her cheek.

Jester giggles and then turns to hug Caleb, a soft but deep embrace, "You look very happy, Caleb."

Caleb whispers back, "I am happy. So very, very happy."

Fjord walks up next, looking down at Veth: "Veth."

Veth looks up at him with narrowed eyes, "Fjord."

They stare at each other for a moment before wrapping each other in a hug, "You look good, Fjord."

"I feel it." he returns, "And so do you."

Yasha and Fjord clap hands together with a smile while Beau comes in on the other side and punches him playfully on the shoulder.

"You know neither of those hurt as much as they used to." Fjord states with a grin.

"Good, where's Kingsley?" Yasha asks.

"Well wouldn't you know it...the tricky bastard went off and made himself into a pirate." Fjord said with a laugh, "I...I don't know if he'll be here."

Yasha looks down a bit crestfallen, "Oh."

"This does mean, though, that I need my old first mate back if she has an inkling to come to sea, just for a bit." Fjord said with a slight smile, looking to Beau.

Beau smiles and shares a look at Yasha, who shrugs but smiles softly. "Maybe, maybe."

"Nice to see you again, Caleb," Fjord says, pulling him into a hug.

"Nice to see you too, Fjord," Caleb says.

"Gangs almost all here; it's been quite a while, hasn't it," Fjord says.

"It has." Caleb agrees as he watches Jester place her son into the arms of her mother and then scoops up Kiri and twirls around with a laugh.

"Mighty fine to see all of you again, ain't that right, Miss," Orly says, nodding to each of them and nudging Caliana.

"OH! Yes, of course. Hello, again, Mr. Caleb, Beau, Yasha," Caliana states, with a nervous bow before looking at Veth and opening her mouth a bit awkwardly.

"It's Veth; good to see you again, Miss." Veth says with a smile, "How have you been?"

"Well, I..." Caliana begins, blushing slightly, only for Jester to spin by interrupting.

"We found her when we stopped her in Port Demali! Kingsley did actually, and then we caught up, and Fjord managed to convince her to join our crew, and she has been very helpful with the magic things at times like you were Caleb, and sometimes she scares the living daylights out of people that try and steal from us!"

Calianna blushes deeper, "I don't mean to."

"She's a good crewmate, and a good friend, speaking of which." Fjord says, turning to the older man beside him, "Vandren, this is my family, not everyone, but most."

Vandren gives them all a once over, "Eclectic group. Makes sense. Nice to meet you. Any drink to be found?"

"Yes, right over there," Caleb says, pointing towards a large picnic table.

"Right, Orly, let's get to it," Vandren says, clapping Fjord on the shoulder and heading over, followed by The Gentleman, who gives each of them a respectful nod, kissing his daughter on the cheek as he passes.

Marion smiles at them all, "I'm glad to see you all healthy and hale. You've all had quite the journey."

The assembled Nein shared a look, "That we have."

Jester smirks and then speaks up, "Speaking of which..."

She enters into a tirade of her and Fjord's most recent adventurer's interrupted at times by Fjord and a more tentative Caliana, while the others listen, sitting down as the sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, Veth's students heading for home, leaving the children adjoined to the party alone to chase each other, play fight, and ride about on Nugget. Charlie spends much of the time in his Mother or Father's lap, occasionally being passed to Yasha, who at one point ends up holding him and Molly in a moment of what Caleb could only describe as awed bliss, as their respective parents got drawn away by something.

A while later, Luc turns to trying to entertain them, showing off the few cantrips he'd learned to the other kids, including the assembled Shusters, and TJ. Kiri makes a game of picking at him after a bit.

As he begins talking about how strong he will be, Kiri walks up and pokes her beak directly into his ear.

"Kiri! Don't embarrass me in front of my apprentices!" he cries with a bit of a blush as Kiri made a joking kissing sound, gesturing to Molly and Charlie who stared at the pair in the muddled, joyful confusion that is Toddlerhood as they rest on their respective parent's laps.

"I don't think a little peck is all that embarrassing." a low voice states, drawing the assembled Nein's attention to a tall figure, his staff glowing a low pink, a wide smile on his face as Caduceus Clay approaches with several others in tow.

"Sorry, I'm late," Cad says, not even pausing as an elated Luc races for him and jumps into his arms, "I had a few friends to pick up."

Calliope waves, "I'm just his tagalong."

Behind her stands Nila and her son, Keg, quickly dashing out a cigarette and looking more than a little awkward, with Reani at her shoulder.

"Hello again," Nila states with a soft smile as the other curious youngsters readily approach her son.

"Long time no see, heard y'all did some really good work." Keg states with a smirk, sharing a look with Beau, walking over, and hugging Veth.

Reani darts over to Jester, wrapping her in a hug, then several of the others, cooing over the babies for a second before tackle-hugging Beau and then Caleb.

"Hey, Reani," Beau says, looking a little awkward but still happy to see her.

"Hey guys, also thank you, Caleb, for sending him my way."

"Him?" Caleb queries, a bit confused.

Clay walks up, hugging Fjord deeply, and then Jester and Yasha: "God, it's good to see you all again, but as I said, I had some friends to pick up."

And out of the shadows, melting into view with a soft yet nervous smile on his face, comes Essek Theylas.

"Hello everyone." he states, eliciting a few gasps and a tackle hug from Jester, "And let's just say Reani, and I have been working on...seeing all the colors and shades as it were."

He gives Beau a pointed nod.

Reani smiles, "He's a sweetheart."

Caleb gets to his feet, walking over to Essek with a cautious smile, "Welcome back to the Mighty Nein."

"Glad to be back...if just for a little while, it will be good, to..." he pauses, looking deeply into Caleb's eyes, "Take a bit more time with you."

As Jester lets him go, Essek slowly glides towards Caleb, and he feels their fingers intertwine, a soft smile growing on both their faces.

He turns and notices a few smirking faces amongst his friends, while the adjoining members are beginning to shuffle about and begin conversing, Reani and Twiggy hitting it off like an unending wildfire, while Keg mills about before choosing to sidle up to Caliana and begin asking her questions, Shakaste sits down next to Caduceus and begins to query him on how everything is going in his neck of the woods.

Fjord looks around at his family as several fires roar up around them. TJ, Kiri, Luc, the Schusters, and Asar are sitting around their own cooking marshmallows, watched by Clara, who has found herself the subject of affection for Nugget, his large head now splaying across her lap. Jester is sitting between Fjord and her Mother, Charlie asleep on her lap, head on her mother's shoulder, with her and Fjord holding hands. Beau is leaning against Yasha, next to Yeza, holding Molly while Veth sat between him and Caleb, with Esseek on his other side, their fingers just the faintest bit intertwined. A bit back from the fire, behind Fjord and Jester, Nila, Cad, and his sister are leaning forward, Cad's hand resting on Fjord's shoulder. Calianna sits next to Fjord, while Reani and Twiggy sit across the fire from Yasha and Beau. Vandren, The Gentleman, and Keg are deep in conversation at the nearby picnic table while Shakaste and Orly are seated between the Nein's fire and the kids, the former humming along as the latter plays some softer music.

"Gangs all here finally." Fjord remarks, "And on a beautiful night too."

"Well...almost all of them are here," Yasha states, somewhat sadly.

"No, everyone." a familiar voice states, as coming across the sands is Kingsley Tealeaf, with Marius in tow.

"Hi there, Angel, there was no way I was missing this party, especially since Joybuzzer reminded me every day about it," Kingsley states, kissing the top of Yasha's head as he walks by, doing the same to Jester and then clapping Fjord on the back and gently hugging Caliana as she scoots over.

"You too?" Essek asks with a knowing smile.

"So it would seem." Kingsley returns as Marius walks by, headed for Orly.

"Kill anyone yet?" Fjord calls out after him.

"No, Captain." Marius returns with a sheepish grin.

"Pity, good to see you still breathing, Lepual." Fjord states with a smirk.

"Likewise, Captain," Marius states, falling into a seat beside Orly.

Keg turns at the arrival of the newest figure and does a triple take before walking over and clunking to the ground next to Reani and staring at him.

"You...are making me extremely uncomfortable," Kingsley states with a smirk.

"Yeah...sorry, this is a little weird, honestly." as she turns to Beau, Veth, and Caleb, and mouthed, "Why didn't you warn me?!"

Beau blinks, "Sorry."

Kingsley chuckles, "Right, this is awkward, but I've got time to catch up with whatever that is and the rest of y'alls stories in a moment. Cause I need a fucking drink!"

He crows that with a laugh and a second later, he is mimicked by a surprised Kiri which is then picked up by Luc, who instead starts yelling: "Well, get a fucking drink then!"

He and Kiri begin to chant that back and forth turning it into a bit of a song, which Orly chuckles at and begins to play a bit of a jig, eliciting a few smirking laughs from the others, while Kingsley blanches a little bit.

"I feel like I'm a bad influence," Kingsley states as he stands up.

"Oh, we all are." Fjord agrees.

"Most of us." Cad amends with a smile.

Caleb chuckles, gripping Essek's hand a bit tighter as he smiles as well, listening to the chaos begin to pick up around him, as Kiri and Luc begin to dance around them, drawing others to join them as Orly begins to play in earnest, joined by Marius, as he draws a lute from his back. First Beau and Yasha, then Yeza and Veth holding Molly, then Fjord and Jester with their son between them, Marion and the Gentleman, Keg shrugs and begins tapping her foot while Twiggy begins dancing by herself, twirling in a flurry of spinning skirts, leaving Caliana, who is quickly offered a hand by Reani, taking it with a vibrant blush' Kingsley looks about before offering Cad a hand with a smirk, who shakes his head just looking about contently. Kingsley shrugs only for Calliope to vice grip his hand and twirls him away while Nila and her son are the last to stand up and dance, with TJ joining his older sister and her partner. Caleb shoots Essek a questioning look, who smiles and stands, resting his forehead against his silently, before in the moon and fire-light, missed by all but a cloaked green figure at the edge of the revelry their chins tip up towards each other into a soft, gentle kiss.

Caleb is glad to be home.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #beauyahsa #fjorester #shadowgast #cr veth #cr caduceus #kingsley tealeaf #orly skiffback #cr reani

[sachigram]

Telescope Now Chapter 2

((click here to read on ao3!))

Izaya doesn't think he's ever really gotten along with his sisters well. He had too much responsibility at too young an age, and their view of him was always warped somewhere between an older sibling and a parental figure. He's never thought of himself as close to them before. They rarely had things in common to talk about, and after the twins got a little older, they started to resent Izaya and were never shy about letting him know it.

He never thought much about it or them. He accepted their dislike of him because he was the one easiest to direct their rage at. Their parents were never home and rarely called, and when they did, all the Orihara siblings would lie to them repeatedly. It was kind of like a game. Yes they were getting along well, yes they were staying out of trouble, yes they were all leading completely normal lives.

Izaya's parents think he's a boring financial planner, and they think he's much more involved in the twins' lives than he is. It's always been easier to tell them what they want to hear because the truth is, all of them found it easier to live without their parents around. They all enjoy their freedom, and though Izaya resented them a long time for leaving him with the twins to care for, he'd rather go back and do it again than have his parents barging in on his life and his affairs. It's better to leave them in the dark.

He has no choice but to call them for the funeral. It's not really the kind of thing he can keep under wraps. He meets them at the airport and relents to letting his mother cry on his shoulder. They have a lot of questions he can't answer. Izaya still doesn't really understand most of it himself.

The funeral winds up being packed. Izaya knew his sisters had quite a few friends, most of them older, so he's not surprised by all the familiar faces. He is surprised to see some Awakusu-Kai executives in the crowd, and even Akabayashi comes to give Izaya his condolences.

“They were good kids,” he says. “Just too involved in things they shouldn't have been.”

“Family trait,” Izaya says. He can feel his parents watching him, and somewhere in the crowd, he knows Shizuo is there, too. So many different parts of his life are convening in one room, and all he wants to do is get the fuck out of dodge.

“How are you holding up, Izaya-san?” Shiki asks when he joins them. Izaya bows accordingly, but Shiki holds a hand up. “I'm here as a friend and as a mourner. No need for formalities.”

“I don't know how I'm holding up,” Izaya says, and Shiki nods while Akabayashi winces.

“It takes a while to hit sometimes,” Akabayashi says. “It's normal to feel numb about it.”

“It feels like it's not real, maybe. I keep waiting for them to pop in and tell me it's a joke everyone was in on.” He can hear his mother sobbing, and he knows he should be standing next to her, but to be perfectly honest, she's annoying the hell out of him. “Mainly I just want my parents to leave,” he adds, unsure why he's telling this to them.

“I think that's also normal,” Shiki says, and the corners of his lips twitch.

“Your parents, eh?” Akabayashi's eye scans the room and settle on Izaya's mother.

“Don't you dare,” Shiki murmurs, and Akabayashi grins.

“I wasn't gonna! I'm here for the same reason as you.”

“She keeps crying,” Izaya says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “She wasn't even close to them. She has no idea who they are. Were.”

“Here, kid,” Akabayashi says, passing Izaya a silver flask. “Just a few sips. It'll help.”

“It doesn't help,” Shiki says, but he doesn't stop Izaya from drinking.

“Nothing really will right now,” Akabayashi says.

“I appreciate you both coming,” Izaya murmurs, passing the flask back. “Is Akane-chan here? My sisters really liked her.”

“She is. She's over with her parents,” Shiki says.

“So many members of the Awakusu here. I'm honored.”

“What is it your parents think you do again?” Shiki asks.

“Financial planning. I'm sure they have an inkling that it's untrue, but then they'd have to admit to themselves that they actually know nothing about me.”

“It's rough. Lose two children and realize the one left resents you. I don't envy them,” Shiki says, and he makes his way over to them.

“You wanna hang on to this?” Akabayashi asks, holding the flask up. Izaya shakes his head.

“I should refrain. Things are still jumbled enough when I'm sober.”

“Ah, right. Head injury. That doctor did mention.” Akabayashi takes a sip for himself. “Let me know if you change your mind. It sure as hell can't make things any worse.”

Izaya does his best to mingle, at least to thank people for coming. His parents can't be expected to do it for him, especially when they're being so dramatic. Mikage finds him and puts her arms around him, and he doesn't miss the way others stop to watch them curiously. Izaya's never been close with many people, and he isn't close to Mikage now, but he trusts her, and he's always trusted her with the twins.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs into his shoulder.

“Me, too,” he replies, patting her back. Physical contact isn't something he's comfortable with. She lets him go in understanding.

When it's time for the service to begin, Izaya feels hot under his collar, like too many people are watching him closely. He doesn't put it past any of his enemies to refrain from attacking him, even here. A few of the gazes Izaya catches are openly hostile, one of which belonging to Izumii's kid brother. Izaya knew his sisters were friendly with him, but he never liked the idea. The boy's gaze seems to say, “It should've been you.”

Izaya can't agree more.

At last, when everyone is seated, Izaya makes his way to the podium to deliver the eulogy. He's completely unprepared. He didn't bother to write anything down. He stands in front of everyone and scans their faces, lingering on Shizuo, who is watching him with a strange expression. Seeing Shizuo as anything other than pissed off is always otherworldly, especially when directed at Izaya.

“I want to thank everyone for coming,” Izaya says, and he laughs slightly, shaking his head. “I don't fool myself into thinking anyone came for me, but to know they had so many friends is a comfort.” He winces, squinting up at the fluorescent light above him. It's too damn bright. “Ah— I'm sorry, I'm not actually...prepared. I don't suppose anyone really could be, but to sit and write a speech about my dead sisters was the most depressing thing I could think to do. I couldn't force myself to do it.”

He grips the podium, leaning onto it slightly as his headache gets worse. He catches Shiki and Akabayashi exchanging glances, and already his mother is sobbing audibly again, his father murmuring words of comfort to her while watching Izaya with a pleading gaze, and Izaya is so very tired of being the one of them expected to hold it together.

“I hate funerals,” Izaya says, and then he laughs until his body hurts. “I hate them so fucking much!”

He's barely aware of hands gripping his arm. He locks eyes with Shiki, who tugs him gently.

“Izaya-san, come sit,” he says softly, and Izaya finds he still can't stop laughing. He's supposed to allow everyone else to come say a few words, thoughtful and loving, but instead he's clinging to the podium, refusing to let go.

“Right, sorry. Anyway, after this, there's a wake, courtesy of my parents. We can all eat and party, and in a week or so, I can take my sisters back home to live on my fucking counter. Urns, you know? It'll really liven up my living space—“ Izaya is forcibly dragged away then, and he catches the looks of disgust and pity in the faces of the crowd. He doesn't go back to his seat, opting instead to march out of the building. He hears his father calling him back, but he doesn't stop.

Outside, it's drizzling. It's been getting colder as autumn sets in, and Izaya is glad he thought to wear a coat. He sits on the steps and rubs at his arms, hiding his face into his knees. His head hurts, and nothing ever seems to help it. He thinks it's more to do with stress than the actual injury now, though he's still having a hard time separating dreams from reality.

“Are you alright?” Shiki's voice asks from beside him. Izaya wasn't aware Shiki followed him out.

“Peachy,” Izaya says, and Shiki sighs. There's a sound of an umbrella opening, and Izaya lifts his head to see Shiki sit down beside him, protecting them both from the increasing rain.

“It's never easy to lose anyone. No one expects you to be okay. You must allow yourself to grieve,” Shiki says, and Izaya reaches out to take the umbrella from Shiki.

“No offense, but even with you here as a guest, I'm pretty sure it's still my job to hold the umbrella for you,” Izaya says, and Shiki laughs.

“Allow me. It's the only thing I can think to do for you now,” Shiki says.

“You've done enough. You're, you know. Here.” Izaya looks out into the parking lot, and it really starts to pour down. “I wish Kine was here,” he adds, and then he regrets saying it. He doesn't know why he did.

“Kine-san is in Russia, last I heard. I'm sure he'll be kicking himself for not being here for you,” Shiki says. “He has a soft spot for you.”

“Sorry,” Izaya mutters. “I don't know why I suddenly even thought of him.”

“It's natural to miss certain people when we're having a hard time,” Shiki says, and Izaya frowns, thinks of himself as a warbling child asking for his father. “I'm not as good at comforting,” Shiki tacks on, and Izaya snorts.

“Kine isn't good at it either.”

“Mm.”

The door opens, and Akabayashi joins them. He stands under the stoop, his hands in his pockets.

“Damn. I forgot an umbrella,” he says, looking out.

“It seems rude of us to be out here, doesn't it?” Izaya asks. “I should go back in.”

“No 'should' in a situation like this,” Akabayashi says with a shrug. “Who cares what they think?”

“We can go back,” Shiki says, glancing over at Akabayashi. “You can stay out here if you'd like, Izaya-san.”

“I think it'd be worse to stay outside.” Izaya sighs a little before adding, “It's weird, you both being nice to me.”

“I'm always nice,” Shiki says.

“I make allowances for death. Besides, I'm not here for you,” Akabayashi says, and he's grinning when Izaya looks at him. “You should be nicer to your parents, by the way. They seem very lost.”

“Oh, Christ,” Izaya mutters, shaking his head. “Let's go before this gets any weirder.”

He doesn't return to his seat. Instead, he stands beside the door while the service continues. He looks up at the black curtain, which is blocking the view of the coffins. It's closed casket, but Izaya is grateful for the curtain as well. He doesn't want to see anything on the other side of it, though maybe if he saw the bodies, it would help make things more real for him. Someone killed them to torture him, but whenever he tries to get details from Shiki, he finds it incredibly hard to focus. Shinra has said this is a coping mechanism, that Izaya's brain is protecting itself from more trauma. Izaya is just ready to feel normal again.

Some people leave as soon as the funeral itself is over. Izaya really didn't want to have a reception afterwards, but his parents insisted, saying they wanted to meet the people in their children's lives. Izaya leans against the wall with his arms crossed, irritated by the sound of chatter and plates clattering.

“Izaya-kun,” Shinra says, appearing beside him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Head hurts,” Izaya says.

“It was a lovely service.” Celty types, and Izaya barely glances at the screen.

“You should come over for dinner tonight, Izaya-kun. We don't think you should be alone,” Shinra says, and Izaya laughs at him, can't help it.

“Please don't start acting like we're all that close. I know trauma brings some people together, but I'd rather not be reminded over and over how I'm interrupting your time with Celty.” Izaya pushes away from the wall. “I'll be fine on my own.”

Izaya is grateful that time is passing so quickly. His interactions with everyone pass by in a blur, and aside from meeting Shizuo's eyes a few times, Izaya can pretend Shizuo isn't even there. At one point, Shizuo starts walking towards him, but Izaya steps away before they can interact. He owes it to his sisters to keep the peace at least this once, but he doesn't want to send the message that he wants Shizuo here.

When everything is finally over with, and Izaya's parents are back in their hotel for the night, Izaya walks into his apartment and stands in the middle of his living room, unsure of what to do with himself now. He's exhausted, and now that he's alone, he can actually feel the full extent of it. He makes his way upstairs to his bathroom, and he swallows a few headache pills before stepping into the shower to wash off the scent of funeral home.

All in all, things went pretty smoothly, and he won't be expected to make a public appearance for quite some time now. As soon as morning comes, his parents will be back on a plane to places unknown, and Izaya can get back to his usual life. Soon enough, this will all be an unpleasant memory.

He's busy rinsing his hair when he hears footsteps below. He pauses, wondering if Namie came by, or if he's in some kind of danger. He steps out of the shower without turning the water off, and he dries hurriedly, tugging a robe on before stepping into the bedroom, knife in hand.

The footsteps below continue, but it doesn't sound like they're coming towards the stairs. They're running along almost sporadically, and Izaya can't really even pinpoint where they're coming from exactly. It sounds like more than one person, but he can't hear any talking. He pokes his head out of his bedroom door and looks towards the top of the stairs.

“Hello?” he calls. No one answers, but the footsteps continue. He grips his knife and makes his way to the stairs, and then he's looking out over the apartment. No one is there, but the footsteps seem to come towards Izaya and stop somewhere at the foot of the stairs, and when he hears giggling right in front of him, he convinces himself it can't possibly be his sisters.

***

When he finally sleeps, he dreams of the twins.

They're small, clinging to either of his legs as they so often used to. Izaya would get so annoyed at it and try to pry them off, but their grip was always strong. Part of him knew they didn't just do it to bother him; they actually liked him at one point. They wanted to be close.

Mairu is ranting about her and Kururi marrying twin boys one day and living in a giant house together. Kururi is quiet, hiding her face into Izaya's leg, and he's busy fishing through a box of snacks for them.

“I don't want those!” Mairu whines as Izaya hands her a bag of cheese crackers.

“You can't have anything bigger or you won't eat dinner,” Izaya says, exasperated.

“Iza-nii, I want something else!”

“What? What do you want?” he asks, glaring down at her, and then she starts to cry, punching his legs with little fists. Kururi just watches her. Sighing, Izaya steps away from them both.

“Meanie! Stupid Iza-nii! I hate you!” Mairu sobs, and Izaya rolls his eyes. Clearly she's tired, and he's pretty used to the tantrums by now.

“That's fine. Hate me more quietly though, would you?” Izaya asks, and she starts screaming.

“Why are we always stuck with you?!”

“Because who else is there?!” Izaya shoots back. The scene seems to get smaller and more grainy, and then Izaya is enveloped in blackness. When he sees the twins again, they're older, and they're not clinging to him anymore.

“Why are you here?” Mairu asks, looking at him. She doesn't looks angry, just confused. Her legs are in Kururi's lap, and they're seated on the couch in their parent's living room.

“I have a key,” Izaya says, and she rolls her eyes.

“You know what I mean. You never come around.”

“I do sometimes,” Izaya says, bristling, though he knows she has a point. He can't remember the last time he visited them in this house. It's so much easier to have them come to him, and if they don't want to, he can blame them while telling himself he tried.

“We miss you,” Kururi says, and Izaya blinks in surprise. Mairu glares at her, and then at Izaya.

“You made her sad!” Mairu snaps, and Izaya steps closer to them, sinking to the floor in front of the couch.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly. The word feels foreign on his tongue, though if he's honest with himself, he's owed them this apology for a while now. He looks into their faces and feels uneasy, like this might not just be a dream anymore.

“You can feel us, right?” Mairu asks, and he looks down to see her hand in his. It feels incredibly real.

“Are you both haunting me?” Izaya asks her, and she just grins at him in answer, her hand squeezing his.

He wakes in his bed with a gasp. It's pitch black in his room, far too dark to see anything. He groans and rolls over, rubbing at his face with one hand as he grasps for his phone with the other. It's a little past three in the morning, and he doesn't think he has much hope of going back to sleep.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. His throat feels tight, but he isn't crying. He thinks maybe if he could cry, he'd feel better about this entire situation, but as it is, he just feels numb. His hand still tingles where Mairu was holding it, and he flexes his fingers as if that can get rid of the feeling. He wonders if these dreams have any real significance, or if he's just in mourning. Hell, maybe it's because of the head injury, or some combination of all three.

He feels around in the dark, not bothering with using his phone as a flashlight. He's lived here for years, and he knows the layout of his own room like the back of his hand, but when his bare feet touch the floor, it isn't his rug he feels below. It's hardwood, and he wonders if he fell asleep downstairs again— but no, he'd see the lights outside the window, wouldn't he?

He turns the flashlight on and looks around. He's in his childhood bedroom, but he's not small here. He's an adult still, and he doesn't know whether he's dreaming or if he walked here in a half-asleep state. Both options seems equally ludicrous to him.

He finds the light switch along the wall and flicks it on. He sees all his old things, books he didn't bother to take when he moved, binders filled with old poetry he'd rather die than have anyone read. This is a dream, then, it has to be a dream, because he took the binder with him when he left for good. He'd never risk his sisters having access to it, and he's asked himself dozens of times why he's never just burned the stupid thing, but it means something to him. He holds the binder to his chest and walks towards the door, anxious about what might be outside this room.

“This isn't real,” he tells himself, and then he opens the door. Outside is the familiar hallway, his sisters' room on the other side of it. Their door is open, and light is flooding out. Kururi's head pops out, and then she's motioning for Izaya to come closer.

“There you are!” Mairu says, appearing beside her. She puts her hands on her hips and pouts at Izaya. “We've been waiting for you. Why do you look older?”

“I am older,” Izaya says, looking down at himself. The twins are younger here, but not by a lot. Izaya thinks they're around ten based on the way they're dressed. This was after he moved out, after they weren't as friendly anymore. Mairu scoffs and taps her foot on the floor.

“Why do you get to be older?”

“This is a dream,” Izaya replies. “I don't know how it works.”

“It's not a dream to us,” Mairu says, and she gives him a smile. “Maybe you're just thinking too much, like always.”

“I don't think too much,” Izaya argues, and he steps into their room. It looks exactly the same as it did the last time he saw it, which doesn't make sense. If they're ten here, they shouldn't have all these things on the wall, like the poster of Carmilla Saizo. It shouldn't exist yet.

“All you do is think,” Mairu says, and then she sticks her tongue out at him. “You think and you think, but you're still somehow a huge dumbass.”

“Stubborn, too,” Kururi says.

“I'm so glad my dreams have kept you so close to reality,” Izaya tells them. Mairu inches closer and then she snatches the binder out of his arms.

“Your poems! We read all these, you know?” she says, and Izaya glares at her.

“You did not. I hid them from you.”

“We went through all your things. You're not as secretive as you think!” Mairu says.

“Yagiri-chan,” Kururi says, and Izaya huffs. Of course Namie would let them in. She lives to torture him, not that he blames her.

“I don't know why you'd be embarrassed. They're good!” Mairu says. “And your old paintings. Who knew you were such a softy, Iza-nii?”

“Being creative doesn't make you soft,” Izaya argues, but he knows it's useless. “I won awards before, but then I chose a different path. No use in poems when you're building a shady reputation.”

“So many things you never told us!” Mairu says, and she's smiling, but she doesn't look happy.

“There were just certain things that never came up,” Izaya says. He doesn't know why he never talked about himself with them. He thinks it was because they started resenting him, but maybe it was after he pushed them away that they started to resent him. He's fuzzy on the details.

“When did we stop being close?” Kururi asks, and Izaya stops trying to snatch the binder back to himself. He gives them both a look.

“I don't know,” he says softly.

“Do you regret it?” Mairu asks.

“I don't know,” he says again.

“Are you dreaming?” Kururi asks.

“I— I think so? I must be.” Izaya sits on Kururi's bed and looks up into the face of Shizuo's kid brother plastered on the wall. “I think I had a breakdown at your funeral,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I think maybe I'm going insane.”

“Haven't you been insane?” Mairu asks, and she sits beside him, plastered to his side. His arm settles around her, but he doesn't know if he put it there, or if she did. “I think all of us are a little batty.”

“More fun that way,” Kururi says, settling on Izaya's other side.

“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you more,” Izaya says. He looks up at their ceiling, at the plastic stars he knows will glow once the lights are off. He was the one that helped them stick the stars to the ceiling. “I don't know why I wasn't. I think at some point I just told myself you didn't want to see me anymore. I stopped trying.”

“It's okay,” Kururi says, and she nuzzles into his arm.

“It's our fault, too,” Mairu adds.

“I don't want to wake up,” Izaya says, and finally, he thinks he's crying. “I want to stay here with you.”

“We'll be here when you wake up!” Mairu says, and Izaya remembers the giggling he heard earlier, out in the real world.

“Are you haunting me?” he asks again.

“Did you really think you could get away from us?”

Izaya wakes again, and when he shines his light around the room, he recognizes it as his. He's finally awake, but he doesn't feel alone. There are tears on his face, and he doesn't know exactly what's going on, but he knows his sisters were really talking to him. That was real, it had to be. He remembers their grips on his arms, and he cautiously reaches his fingers out, touching the spots next to him on the bed.

They're warm.

***

He's both happy and sad to see his parents go. Their departure will be a step in him returning to normalcy, but a small part of himself will always wish they were around more often, and seeing them leave him is never easy, especially now that he'll actually be alone. Both of them hug him tightly, and his mother smooths his hair away from his forehead before she kisses him there.

“You look so tired,” his mother says, and he snorts.

“That's rude, you know?” he asks, and she gives him a watery smile.

“I don't think any of us are sleeping well,” his father says, and then he clears his throat. He ruffles Izaya's hair awkwardly, like he doesn't know if he's allowed to. Normally, Izaya hates this treatment, and he still doesn't like it, but he allows it. His parents are trying. Izaya can meet them halfway.

“Please answer our calls more often,” his mother says. “Even if you can't talk long. I just want to hear your voice.”

“I can't promise to always answer, but I'll always call back,” he says, and she nods before hugging him again. “Let me know when you're safely home.”

“This is home,” his father says, “but we'll let you know when we're back there.”

He waves until they're out of sight, and he even hangs around to see the plane take off. He's got nothing better to do with his time aside from work, but he's taken some time off for himself. He can't concentrate on anything, anyway.

When he returns home, he trudges up the stairs, looking forward to a nap. He's not even going to set an alarm, is just going to sleep until he wakes up naturally, but something is splayed out on his bed, making him freeze in his tracks.

It's his binder full of old poems.

#shizaya #Izaya Orihara #telescope now #ghosts #hauntings #death in family #trippy #halloween fic #i know i said i'd post this later but i felt bad after you guys were so receptive and nice to me!!!!!

[caffeinatedtimdrake]

Just saw your latest prompt list :) how about no 11 “Hold on, you died.” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick” for Jason? Maybe he and the reader used to be a vigilante team when he was still Robin and now they’re reunited when he’s back as Red Hood? :)

ahhh ilysm I hope you like it!! about 1.5k of Jason x Reader fluff. sorry for the wait! (p.s. the reader’s vigilante name is going to be Claw and i’m sorry if that sounds silly and i agonized over it for a while but i only had so many  options for a former Catwoman trainee)

11. “Hold on, you died.” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick.” 

“Red Hood is Jason?! What?! That’s who I’m working with tonight?” You nearly shriek, tumbling into the alley in the same way that you’re tumbling into disbelief. 

A sharp stab of pain grazes your bicep, a blade whipping past your face and landing firmly on the wall across from you. 

“Claw, move!” Oracle’s voice crackles forcefully in your ear and you’re jolted back into reality. 

A rush of adrenaline cascades down your spine, propelling you down the alley and over a chain-link fence. 

“W-where do you want me?” You warble breathlessly, hoisting yourself onto the fire escape and charging up the stairs to the rooftop of the dilapidated apartment building. 

“Perpendicular, on the grocery store. Red Hood is getting there.” 

You hear his voice and it makes you a little dizzy as you wind up a grappling hook. “Headed over now.” 

The name is burned into your mind as you stealthily launch yourself over the edge of the building because it echoes with the ghost of a boy who was a young hero, a bright flame, and a victim to a cruel fate. You can maneuver past the bewilderment enough to feel the first inkling of agitation because everyone on your team failed to mention that you’d be dismantling a drug ring with a young man you’d formerly believed to be dead. You didn’t need all the grisly details of his reincarnation, but a warning might have been nice.

You land on the roof of the grocery store with a thud – who would have thought diapers could hide copious quantities of illegal drugs? – and you roll to soften the impact, gravel piercing the gash across your arm. 

Red Hood pops up near the edge, agile yet rugged in the way he flips onto the rough and approaches you. He’s stepping lightly on the roof, but you feel as though he’s applying pressure to your chest, sharp and aching. He stops in front of you and you dig your nails into your palm, eyes wide beneath your mask. 

Rather than a warm welcome to the living world, like melting ice, you whisper-yell, “Hold on, you died.”

His face is hidden beneath a heavily armored red, but you can hear the bitter smile in his voice. “Yeah, well, it didn’t stick.”  

“Focus, kids.” Nightwing lands on the roof gracefully. 

You swallow hard and turn away from Red Hood. “What’s the plan?” 

“Claw, enter through the vent on the east side. Artemis is waiting for you in there. Red, you and I are taking a stroll down the stairs.” 

“Where’s Robin?” The title is strange on your tongue. Now it means Tim, but for a long time, it translated to Jason Todd. 

Dick flashes a charming smile. “Keeping our friends who tailed you occupied.” 

You squint, ambling towards the edge of the building. “Is that supposed to be a pun?” 

“You used to be Catgirl. I don’t think it’s unreasonable.” 

Your tone is flat. “I think we should focus on the present moment, not the past.”  

“Agreed.” Red Hood.

You almost want to tell Red Hood, except for you, but prodding into his recent past would have to wait. There were lives at stake then and there are lives at stake now.

The mission goes off without a hitch. The team receives bountiful intel on the gang’s connections, you help them kick butt, and Tim safely destroys the drugs. Nightwing congratulates the team with a beam as you stand around the Batcave, thrilled with the success of the mission. 

“Same time next week?” 

“You’re funny, Grayson.” Artemis grumbles.

“I’m just kidding. Crime doesn’t have a schedule.” 

She groans and shifts the bow on her shoulder, bidding everyone a good night. 

“I should head out too.” You say quietly. You haven’t taken your mask off yet and you can feel the Kevlar chaffing the skin on your cheek a little. 

“Thanks for all your help, Y/N.” Barbara tells you earnestly. 

“Yeah, Y/N.” Nightwing pipes up, shuffling some papers. “You’re the best,”

“Anytime.” You shrug, bashful because Jason is looking over at you and you’re still unaccustomed to all the handsome, rugged angles of his face across the five-o-clock shadow and calculating, celestial eyes.

You’re halfway outside when you hear his voice, like a warm, gentle hand against your cheek. “Let me give you a ride.”

You freeze. “Do you even have a driver’s license?” 

He laughs low in his throat, a sound that makes your skin flush. You turn around slowly and pinch the inside of your wrist because he’s arching an eyebrow and smiling at you crookedly, startlingly alluring in a way you hadn’t know before. 

“Do you always follow the rules?” 

You think about the toaster and the coffeemaker you had in your dorm room and how you used to steal bananas from the cafeteria and all the evenings you spent with Jason after curfew, out on patrol or eating sandwiches on rooftops. 

You purse your lips. “I will not get on that motorcycle.”

“I WILL NOT GET ON THIS MOTORCYCLE EVER AGAIN.” You shriek as Jason pivots left, night air heavy and adrenaline heavy in your bones. 

Jason laughs, simply accelerating.

You cling tighter to his waist and bury your face in that weathered jacket, mint and Cherrywood. 

It doesn’t make much sense that you’re scared by a motorcycle ride considering your expertise in jumping off of buildings and into life-threatening ordeals, but you’re hurtling towards your apartment complex – towards home with a boy turned man who once felt like home and that leaves you feeling unsettled. 

It might be three years or three minutes until the motorcycle crawls to a stop in front of the bricked building. Regardless, your eyes are still squeezed shut and your limbs are still squeezed tightly around his body several moments after the roaring motor quiets to steady rumble. 

“Next time, I’m driving.” You say breathily, cracking open your eyes and slowly relaxing your limbs. 

“Oh? There’s going to be a next time? In that case, let me tote you around in a kiddie wagon.” 

Your giggle is a wheezy sound and Jason has to help you off the seat because your body feels like one giant, overcooked noodle. You kind of despise the way your skin tingles when he places a hand on the small of your back, but you can’t help the sentiment of serenity his steady touch brings you. 

A lump forms in your throat when he drops his hand, trailing for maybe a second too long against your waist. 

“May I?” He then raises his fingers to the same level as your cheekbones and you nod slowly, flushing deeply as he hooks his thumb beneath the edge of your mask. His rough fingers drag against the soft curve of your face and you can’t quite breathe as he lifts the taut Kevlar above your forehead because he touches you with an intimacy you’ve never known, like earth and ocean and stardust. 

You can’t stop gazing at him and Jason can’t seem to tear his eyes from the haunted look in yours. Swimming in sharp cognizance, he sees a world of unanswered questions and unrelieved longing. His hands cup your face now, holding you like you’re the most delicate of flowers, and he looks at you so intensely, he doesn’t think he could ever forget the slope of your nose or the curl of your mouth, lifetime after lifetime. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I was…looking for myself. I still kind of am.” Jason tells you, mouth pulling into a tiny frown. 

You shrug. “It’s okay, Jason. Coming back from the dead is probably a little overwhelming.”

He snorts. “You have no idea.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at you hesitantly through his lashes. 

“What is it?” 

“Is it silly if I ask for a hug?” 

This wrenches a peal of borderline hysterical laughter from your chest and he blushes. 

“I’ve heard sillier things.” You open your arms and he nearly falls into your embrace, engulfing you in the scent of a spring morning and an autumn evening. He feels like home.

It’s funny that you two still fit together so well, after all these years of life and death, but it makes Jason wonder if you and he were always meant to be like this. 

“Whelmed?” You chirp. 

“Dick isn’t even here, don’t let him mess up this moment.”  

“It’s a fair question.”

“The answer is no. I will always be overwhelmed unless I can get at least one Y/N hug per day.” 

You tighten your arms around him and sigh happily. “That can be arranged.”

(What neither you nor Jason know is that Dick slapped a bug to Jason’s jacket to keep tabs on you two. He and Barbara were currently cheering from the Batcave, already planning double dates.)

#hugging jason would be an Ordeal #a good one #i think we all deserve a nice cozy jason todd hug #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #robin #robin imagine #robin x reader #dick grayson #tim drake #nightwing #red robin #barbara gordon #oracle #dc #young justice #teen titans #hold on you died #prompt #jason-todd-squad #fluff

[sidespromptblog]

Alone

(Requested by anon) 

Summary: Out of everything to happen that evening, Anxiety didn’t expect to go to Logan’s room, much less to have a heart to heart with him. 

“Are you always this alone?”

Anxiety wasn’t exactly certain what had pushed him to come to the logical side, the plate in his hand full of food was one thing, but the fact that he had opened Logan’s door without knocking and he was just standing there in silence had started to get to him. What was he supposed to say without sounding too mushy? What if Logan didn’t want him here? What if...Logan got angry at him? The words that rushed out of him made him feel even worse though, as he gave a tiny wince.

“Excuse me?” Logan answered, and it wasn’t much of a surprise that panic started to bubble away inside of him as Logan slotted a bookmark into the book he was reading, before he raised an eyebrow. Oh dear.

“I..I mean,” He began raising one hand to stop the other from speaking again, “What I mean is…” Anxiety motioned to the logical side’s door, where downstairs the inane giggles from the creative and moral side could be heard. They were having a fun time, watching a movie with Roman doing Patton’s nails like there wasn’t a problem in the world. Or perhaps they just didn’t see it, at least not the way that Anxiety saw it. “They didn’t even bother to ask if you wanted to join them..they didn’t even bother to tell you that dinner was ready. They just...let you be.”

The plate of food in Anxiety’s hands suddenly made a lot more sense now.

Understanding dawned on Logan’s face, before he pushed his glasses back up his nose. Scooting his legs back into a criss-cross fashion he motioned for the other to sit down, and he watched as the eyeshadow wearing side shuffled forward, setting the plate down first before he sat himself down on the very edge of the bed. Most likely so that he could sink out at the first sign of trouble.

“Anxiety,” Logan began as he set his book off to the side, pressing his fingers together he cleared his throat. “I know that it may seem odd, but...I am fine. I am not lonely, and I am not alone in any aspect, as I have my books and my work. It doesn’t bother me that they can sometimes...forget...about me.” Logan’s lips pressing into a thin line for a second before he took a moment to go on, and Anxiety’s eyes searched the logical side’s face. “I am Logic, and thus their fun times would be less...fun with me there. Without me, they can do what they need to keep their spirits high and I do not mind that.”

With each word, Anxiety felt less and less sure about that, again he wasn’t certain as to why he felt that way, or even why he was here in the first place. When his entire job centered around him being loud and scary, it was just that...somehow he could tell something was inside of Logan. Something that was acting as the sealed lid of a soda that was being shaken up too much, it was there, he just had the smallest inkling of what it was.

“Are you sure?” He asked, mentally berating himself for the worry that coated his tone, and Logan readjusted his glasses and tie. Tightening the bright blue fabric to the point where it must have been too choking even for the logical side, even if Logan didn’t seem at all bothered by it.

When Logan stopped fidgeting with his accessories, he placed his clenched fists into his lap, his expression carefully blank for a good minute. Anxiety’s shoulders slumped, Logan had turned himself off again. There were always instances where he could see it, the emotion that Logan let into his voice when he talked about the things that he loved, when he was explaining things that Anxiety really didn’t understand, but listened anyway. The instances when… He was insulted.

All of them shortly followed by that same empty look, when Logan had let himself go too far.

“I think Anxiety,” Logan began, his voice short and clipped, making him instinctively wince back away from Logan just for a short second. “That you may be projecting your own feelings of loneliness and how alone you feel on a day to day basis. How often are you invited to partake in events with Roman and Patton? Do they tell you when dinner is ready? Do they...act as if they care that you are around? Do they act as if you are necessary, outside of just talking?”

It was like Logan had just stabbed a searing hot knife into Anxiety’s chest with each question, each of them striking with a killer efficiency. Of course, the logical side knew what he was talking about, of course, he knew that he may have been projecting outside of the minuscule amount of worry he had for Logan. He was alone, almost every minute of every day, no one made the effort to come looking for him like he had for Logan, no one...cared enough to do that.

His eyes started to sting.

“I suggest Anxiety,” Logan continued, not even noticing the effect that he had on the other, before he reached forward, placing a gentle pat on the other’s shoulder. “That if you do happen to be feeling these things, that perhaps writing them down. Or…” Anxiety lifted his head up as soon as Logan’s words had drifted off, the logical side was chewing on his bottom lip, there was a slight sheen of emotion in his eyes. Anxiety felt the tense knot of muscles in his chest loosen slightly. “That if you do happen to feel alone in some cases, be it where Roman or Patton had neglected to invite us to a personal event, or dinner. Then..then you may, in fact, join me.” Logan offered, attempting a warbly smile, that seemed just a little too awkward on his face.

That smile soon dropped from his face and wilted away the moment a rush of tears trailed down Anxiety’s face, black tears coated the other’s face the moment that the salty liquid got caught up in his makeup just making his face out to be an entire mess. Not that it was much of a difference.

“Oh dear,” Logan muttered, jerking up from his position before he scrambled over to his nightstand, in his hurry slamming his elbow against the corner of it. Letting out a sharp sound of pain that brought tears to his own eyes, before he managed to snag the box of tissues on his bedside. “Here! Here! Before it messes up your clothes.” He blurted out, while his other hand gripped his elbow.

Anxiety grabbed a fistful of them dabbing his eyes and leaving behind large black smudges on the tissues, “I’m sorry..I’m so sorry!” He blurted out, more tears coming down in a rush of salt water. “Look at both of us now, I’ve made you cry too!” He wept out, before rubbing away his tears and offering Logan a smudges tissue.

A giggly giddy laugh answered him, as Logan took the offered item wiping at his eyes, and incidentally smudging his own cheeks by accident.

“No no, I believe that it is I who should apologize Anxiety, I made you cry and-”

And already he was interrupting the logical side again with a hasty shake of his head. The black marks staining his face all but forgotten, as he gave the other a dopey kind of smile back at him.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He asked, and before Logan could even begin to open his mouth and answer. “You..you’re the first to tell me that I have someplace to go when I feel alone. That I can spend time with you..that..that I can eat and have dinner with you, that you’re alone too. But we can be alone together!”

Steeling his jittery anxious nerves, Anxiety reached his hand forward, taking the hand that was still gripping the damp tissue. His very chest felt like it was about to collapse on itself, and his lungs felt even worse as he put a crooked grin on his face, staring into the logical side’s widened eyes that displayed only his shock at that moment. He felt Logan’s hand go slack, before the fingers hooked around his own. Just a small gesture, but one that gave him hope to do and say this.

“We don’t have to be alone if we have each other.”

Tagged:

@moonstonefox12

@neko-ereri

@thedreamer240

@unikornavenger

@cats-vetal-miking-vomit

@bippityboppitybooyakasha

@letrashalmighty

@witch197

@elementalshadowwitch

@seas-space-and-stardust

#pre accepting anxiety #logan sanders #anxiety sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #platonic analogical #angst #hurt/comfort #tears #alone

[mosshugs]

One Chance

More self-indulgent memory fic. This time based around Marina fleeing the octo army. 

All Marina could do was run. It was so dark. A light would have been a liability; easy to spot in the black of night. For the first time in her life she was grateful for her outfit- pathetically useless as it was for armor, it was at least dark enough to keep her hidden as she darted through the shadows away from the barracks. Ducking her head and freezing at every sound, the octoling girl swiftly and silently made her way through the canyon; heading for the only exit she could think of. She’d been on plenty of stealth missions before and had never flinched, not fearing death back then. Some of the emotions that had awoken at that concert weren’t exactly convenient, it seemed, as the terror nearly strangled her. She had to get to the station, she couldn’t be seen. She’d be sanitized for this. Finally, the dull walls of the station rose up over the horizon. It was hardly a silhouette in the night, but it might has well have been the spire of salvation for Marina. Breathless and shaking, she put all she had into the last sprint toward the building; squeezing her eyes shut and booking it even as she heard a confused warble from an octarian on patrol somewhere nearby. Frantic, she slipped through the doors, unable to do anything but pray that she hadn’t been spotted by anyone unfortunate. The station itself was nearly empty, the last subway for the night about to pull out. Eyes wide, she flung herself toward the doors with a cry, tripping and collapsing on the bottom step up and looking up to the very surprised little conductor for the metro, a sea cucumber with only a tiny hat to indicate his authority. “What in blazes girl, you could have fallen right onto the track! Just get here on time for yer train and you won’t have to...” He trailed off as he looked at her, and despite his lack of ability for facial expressions she could practically feel the shock he had as he looked her over. It was only now that she became aware she was crying, tears spilling down her face as she tried unsuccessfully to pull enough oxygen into her screaming body. There was no telling how far she’d run, but it still wasn’t far enough. Still too close to be safe. She couldn’t quite articulate all this though, all she could manage was a handful of words, coughed out in a strangled sob. “Please...I’ve got nothing, but I’ve got to go. I can’t go back, please...” As soon as the words were free she coughed, still heaving for breath and trying to deal with the realization that she was completely at the mercy of this stranger. The conductor, for his part, seemed a bit lost on what to do. Slowly, he glanced down the aisles of his metro, seeming to note that it was very nearly empty. Not many passengers keen to ride at this hour, it would seem, only desperate little octolings running away from who knows what. After a short moment of thinking, he turned back to Marina, who was only just managing to regain some sort of stability where she knelt on the step.  “Alright. C’mon then, I’ll take ye where ya need to be. No charge. I don’t rightly have much better to do anyway.” With that, he slid down the aisle, making space for Marina to scrabble to her feet and race into the subway, babbling thank yous and incomprehensible gratitude the whole way. Nervously, she followed her new acquaintance, unsure what to do now with no protocol, no commander, nobody she knew. The silence dragged on for a few seconds, with her growing increasingly tense as she walked until the conductor broke the silence. “I don’t believe I got yer name, miss. And I’ll need to know where ya plan to be heading, if I’m gonna be taking ya there.” At once she nodded, her words tumbling free in awkward, clunky inklish. Who knew if this guy spoke octarian, after all? “Marina.. I am Marina. And..” She blinked there, realizing she hadn’t actually thought about where she’d be going. What all places even were there? A bit panicked again, she rifled through her memory for the name of somewhere, anywhere, at last managing to recall a pace she’d heard the name of in many a mission briefing. The inkling capital would be a dangerous place to go, but no part of this wasn’t dangerous. It’d be somewhere far away, and really that’s all that mattered. “Inkopolis, please. Take me to Inkopolis.”

#fanfic #marina #splatoon #splatoon 2 #cotton writes

[funkzpiel]

Softly, Hallelujah

For @axilarts​ / @axileana​, to whom I promised hurt!Newt to.

It’s in the middle of a meeting when Graves suddenly feels the band on his finger grow hot and agitated. He stops mid sentence, hands braced down on the end of the conference room table, as images flash across his mind’s eye – quick snap shots of things until finally, he has what he needs.

He presses his thumb to the underside of his ring finger and against the band itself and says, “I’m coming, hang on,” before turning to the room at large.

“Director Graves,” Picquery blinks, cool and composed but he can see in her gaze that she has at least some inkling of what has happened. “Everything alright?”

“I am afraid I must excuse myself,” is all he says and then he’s abusing his high security clearance to disapparate out of the meeting room and into the living room of the flat he shares with a certain Magizoologist. He finds the case atop their bed, a rather nervous looking Dougal sitting on its top most step – peering out, waiting.  The moment it sees him, it dips back into the case; obviously aware of what Graves has come for. Graves follows him down in a hurry, his feet flying down the rickety ladder, only to find that Newt is not in his little shack.

“Where is he, Dougal?” Is all he has to ask before the snowy creature is bolting out the door, pausing every now and then to make sure he’s still following. He doesn’t need Dougal’s help for long, however. He can hear the conflict before he ever reaches it – violent roaring and loud crashing. He sees the high wall of one of Newt’s fake scenery tapestries fall over and knows instinctively where to go. He rounds the corner and falls to a stop.

Newt is there, lying in the tall grass of one of his enclosures – one Graves has never seen before, so it must be new. He’s on his back, eyes wide and blank and glassy as they stare up at fake sky above him. There’s blood on his shirt sleeve and across his right side, his shirt torn in a row of three neat, gaping hopes of fabric and beneath them, shredded skin. But worse than that, Graves knows, is the neat row of three barbs sunk deep into the meat of his shoulder, the barbs connected to long, needle like spines that shiver with each whistling breath Newt manages to take.

“Newt!” He breathes, but before he can rush forward, Dougal snags his hand. He follows the creature’s keen eyes to the source of the commotion.

A Manticore – an actual God forsaken Manticore – has its lion-like claws buried deep into the thick hide of Newt’s Nundu. Graves spots the terrifying, shark-like rows of teeth in the beast’s maw and knows he should be grateful that Newt isn’t dead, but he can’t help but feel a furious little bubble rise in his gut knowing that Newt willingly brought this creature into his case. He watches as the long, dragon-like tail of the Manticore flails wildly behind it as the Nundu frees itself from its claws and manages to sink its poisonous teeth down to the gums in the Manticore’s foreleg. Immediately, the flesh around the bite begins to blister and peel away – and the roar the Manticore releases is beyond any agony Graves has ever heard before. Second only to his own pain when he hears Newt whine ever so slightly in response to the creature’s anguish.  

“Enough of this,” he snarls and steps forward. All it takes is a flick of his wand to stop the fight. His spell hits the Manticore straight in the chest and immediately, he sees the desired results. He watches as it shrinks before his eyes – smaller and smaller and smaller – until all that’s left behind is a Manticore, yes, but one no larger than the size of a drinking flask. Its roars sound more like the soft mewls of a kitten now, and he watches with some pride as the Nundu merely snorts down at it scathingly before turning to fix Graves’ with a keen and judging look. It’s assessing him. Curious if Graves can be trusted. But a year and a half of feeding the beast at Newt’s side appears to have been worth something, because the Nundu merely bows its head to him – once – and walks away into the foliage of Newt’s suitcase.

Graves is knee-deep in the dirt and at Newt’s side in an instant.

“Newt?” He asks, peeling at Newt’s eyelids, waiting for the man to react. He doesn’t. Just keeps staring straight ahead. “No, no, no, Newt,” he babbles, voice warbling despite himself – despite his mask of professional calm. “Not like this. Not today. Stay with me.”

He scoops the limp man into his arms, uncaring of the blood that oozes into his fine clothes, and carries Newt to the stairs. He casts a spell as he passes the desk to craft a note to Tina.

Taking Newt to the hospital. Please collect his case.

PG

The little paper mouse scuttles free of the case just as Graves does, and no sooner does he both feet out of the case is he disapparating for the hospital. They take Newt from him immediately. He hears the doctors talking frantically with one another, but he can’t keep up. He tries to follow, but not even his sternest gaze can sway the sympathetic but firm nurse that tells him he’d just be in the way.

He paces the waiting room floor like a madman. Hours tick by. No one comes to talk to him. His heart grows a little heavier and a little heavier with each passing moment. Tina arrives at some point with the blasted case in hand and Graves can’t help but want to set the thing afire, knowing it might have taken Newt from him. He won’t though. If Newt is gone, this is his last bit of him and more than likely the largest part of Newt’s heart. If that’s all he has left, he’ll take it. He’ll watch over the beasts Newt loves.

But he casts the thoughts from his mind, for now, and doesn’t bother to protest when Tina gently wraps him in a hug.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispers.

Graves says nothing, just spins the golden band on his finger until the skin beneath is aching.

He tries to think of everything he knows about Manticores but all he can see is Newt’s face, pale and staring at nothing. He thinks of the barbs and tries to remember if Manticores are venomous. He’s sure they are, but in what sense? Neurotoxic? Paralytic? Fatal?

It’s another couple hours before anything changes, and when it does – it’s not because the nurses come for him. It’s because Newt is awake and pressing on his ring.

Graves is through the door before anyone can stop him, his great coat a flapping span of fabric behind him as he flies through the halls, following the pull on his ring. He ends up in front of a door just as a wide-eyed nurse exits it, blinking owlishly at him.

“M-Mr. Graves,” she stutters, “I was just coming to fetch you—“

He’s already pushing past her. He’ll apologize later, but he has to see him, has to know…

Newt looks tiny in the hospital bed, and it steals the breath from Graves’ lungs to see his larger than life partner looking so frail and small tucked away as he is beneath crisp white sheets and metal bed bars. He can see Newt’s thin hand on the sheets, his thumb pressed against his wedding band.

Newt smiles, and although he’s pale and at death’s door, Graves is struck by how beautiful he looks. Alive, eyes glittering, and smiling.

“You came,” Newt says through the bond of their rings.

Graves presses his thumb into his own and thrusts every thought, every ache, every worry, every relief into their bond and breathes a sigh of relief.

“You stayed,” he says, and it sounds like hallelujah.

#gramander #request fill #hurt!newt #newt scamander #percival graves #original percival graves #mini fic