#i wanted it to be longer but lip kept yapping so i had to include that whole scene😒😒😒

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

he’s different.

#i hate this ngl #i wanted it to be longer but lip kept yapping so i had to include that whole scene😒😒😒 #shameless #ian gallagher

[lorelylantana]

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 1: Blindsided

Next

Chapter rating: G Overall rating: G

Ao3

Calamity was soundly defeated, and the Kingdom of Hyrule was at peace, but King Rhoam knew something dark was afoot. He sat at his desk, eyeing the tray of incoming documents. Of all the missives and appeals, he had the sinking feeling that today would be yet another day passed without a request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. King Rhoam had many regrets for his actions toward his daughter, and he didn’t want to rush Zelda into marriage. He couldn’t undo the years of neglect, but he could do that much.

His resolve in the matter didn’t make the lack of suitors any less disconcerting. He was baffled. Even if his daughter was homely, which she most certainly was not, the King would have received several letters from young nobles and their parents eyeing the throne before Zelda even came of age. Before Calamity’s defeat, he figured it was another facet of the extenuating circumstances that darkened those years, and had expected a cascade of offers after things settled down. After losing sleep over it, he could only think of one explanation.

A coup was brewing. One intent on wresting Hylia’s bloodline from the throne.

The moment the thought ran through his mind Rhoam summoned the Sheikah forces, the researchers took center stage in the last decade, but the stealth units still existed. This meant that the crown still had a robust intelligence agency, which he wasted no time sending them out to sniff out the traitors and drag them out to face justice.

The Sheikah were efficient, and more importantly they were accurate, so when they returned empty handed, the King knew it was because there was nothing to find.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you certain?”

The agent nodded, “There’s nothing but glowing praise for the royal family in the wake of Calamity’s downfall, the recent events have highlighted the need to preserve the bloodline.”

Then what was it? Why didn’t anyone want to marry his daughter? 

Confused and more than a little offended, he summoned the son of a noble house that was known to be particularly opportunistic.

“You wanted to see me, your Majesty?” 

The young man squirmed  under the King’s stare. Rhoam shuffled some papers around to look busy before beginning his ruse.

“You know my daughter, Princess Zelda?”

The man gulped, “Yes, sire.”

“And you know she is of marrying age.”

“Yes,”

“I’m considering Zelda’s groom to be, future of Hyrule and all that, and since you are fairly high on the list of prospects I want your thoughts on the matter,” King Rhoam said, staring at the young man as he shifted on his feet and looked down. As the silence dragged on he prompted him. “Do you want to marry my daughter?”

The young man took a breath to brace himself before looking the King in the eye, “No, Your Majesty.”

“Why not, then?!” Rhoam’s voice came out louder than he’d intended, offended on his daughter’s behalf. The young noble flinched at his tone. A minute ran long, silent as the man gathered himself and gave his answer.

“It wouldn’t feel right, sir,” the nobleman shrunk under Rhoam’s gaze, and he began to lose his thoughts, “It’s just, Sir Link saved my little brother’s life. I can’t betray him like that after he’s done so much for my family-”

“Wait,” the King held up a hand, baffled, “What does the Hylian Champion have to do with this?”

The young noble stopped, his face reflecting the king’s own confusion.

“He loves her, as I’m sure you noticed.” 

He had not noticed. Yet this young man’s voice rang with the certainty of one talking about the blue sky or the chill of winter, and yet it gave the King a pause. He leaned back.

“Come again?”

“Sir Link is in love with Princess Zelda,” the young man said.

“And he told you this?”

He shook his head, “He didn’t need to, it’s as plain as day. Everyone knows, just ask around.”

With that the nobleman was sent away, and King Rhoam sent the Sheikah out to gather information once more. This time, his suspicions were confirmed.

Every single noble house in Hyrule received critical aid from the Hylian Champion, and subsequently held him in high regard. That verified one half of the young man’s theory, but what of the other?

As a knight bound by oath, Link adhered to a strict code of conduct that governed his every waking hour. He wasn’t to deceive frivolously, he was to extend a helping hand whenever possible, and he would never, under any circumstances, presume to declare his undying love to Princess Zelda. It was unprofessional, if not unethical. He was tasked with her safety, and that included sheltering her from the burden of his emotions. And so, Zelda was kept in blissful ignorance to the heart she held in her hands.

The chivalric code was strict, but it wasn’t unforgiving. There were allowances. Small things Link could do to express little shreds of his love, if only to keep from exploding. To keep from shouting out his devotion for Zelda, her fierce determination and her unbreakable spirit. He kept his silence for so long, he thought restraining himself would be natural, but then she would laugh, or look his way, or hum if he was lucky, and he was a beat away from saying ‘I love you’. It was too much to hold in. Too much to hide, so he began giving Zelda small tokens of his affections. Subtle gestures, unnoticeable, and easily misconstrued as a part of his duty to the Princess’ safety.

Link brought her flowers, but only those with medicinal purposes. To aid in her research, he insisted to those who questioned, to ensure she had medicine of any kind should she need it. He would take every opportunity to take her hand, only to ensure she wouldn’t fall. 

The gesture that brought him the most relief, however, was simply bringing her hand to his lips and leaving a small kiss against her knuckles. It was perfectly acceptable because it was selfless. A kiss upon the hand was a show of respect, of reverence, and expected absolutely nothing in return. It was his greeting and his farewell  When he first became Zelda’s appointed knight, she would rip her hand away as soon as was polite. Yet as the esteem she held him in rose she was much more indulgent of his wishes, reaching for his hand at times. He’d grown so bold recently, bowing over her arm no longer. Instead, he was reckless enough to raise her hand to his lips so he could look her in the eye.

It was no cause for scrutiny, of course. All very honorable and above board, so when Link was called to the King’s office one fateful day, he was fully under the impression that his affections were a secret to all but the knight himself.

Sir Link stood still and stoic before his King, looking for all the world like the hero he was. He’d been called into the King’s office a few times, all to report on his daughter’s wellbeing, so when the King asked his question Link was taken aback.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Sir Link. Do you love my daughter?”

Link didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The nobleman was right, it was plain as day. Written in the blush on his cheeks and the way his breath caught, highlighted by the slight panic in his eye.

Hylia save him, the boy wasn’t subtle at all. Quite surprising in the face of Sir Link’s reputation, but young love is a strange force indeed.

Although, now that Rhoam considered things, perhaps Sir Link’s blatant heart could help solve this issue quicker. The King wasn’t going to pass up a stress free wedding, without all the yapping of disgruntled nobles trying to match their own sons with his daughter. Yes, the king was certain that this was a very good sign indeed. His dear Zelda was the brightest of her generation, renowned for her keen eye and discerning mind. There was absolutely no way his daughter could look upon this young man and not be immediately aware of his feelings for her. This, along with how well she got along with Sir Link, could only mean that she accepted his feelings. Surely, if Link loving her was a cause for discomfort, Zelda would have sent him away. She had ample opportunity, and after her triumph Rhoam would deny her nothing. 

“I- I assure you, Your Majesty, I’ve made no untoward advances. I swear on the sword I carry.”

The young man’s shaking voice snapped Rhoam out of his train of thought.

“What?” he asked before waving a dismissive and, “Of course, of course. Sit, Zelda will be here soon enough.”

Sir Link’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak before shutting it tightly. Sitting rigidly in his chair, the young man waited with bated breath while the King sent for his daughter.

She arrived only a few minutes later, never far from the library and the surrounding offices.

“You called for me, father?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She had just finished going over her itinerary, so she didn’t know what this meeting was about. The king gestured for the second chair across his desk. And waited for her to sit down before answering.

“We are here to discuss Sir Link’s love for you,”

In his seat, Link made a choking sound, almost hyperventilating. Rhoam pitied him, but he knew that the sooner Link learned of his place in Zelda’s heart he would feel much better. Zelda on the other hand, seemed to be caught completely off guard. Her cheeks red and hands brought to her mouth as she whispered. She looked at her knight, who sat still and resolute, yet blushing all the more.

“His what?”

Well, it was understandable that she would be a tad confused, after all, it wasn’t every day that one spoke of love so bluntly.

Link was mortified, but said nothing in his defense. This was clearly his penance for having impure thoughts of his charge. He had deluded himself into thinking the dreams that haunted him were out of his control, and thus undeserving of reproach. The present situation swiftly disabused him of any such notion in short order. 

Still, King Rhoam had to keep the ball rolling. There was no use wasting time. 

“In light of this recent discovery, and since you are of age to be married, I thought it wise to consult you on the matter, dear Zelda.”

At the mention of her name, she turned back to her father, still a bit disoriented in the face of her revelation, “Yes?”

Rhoam spoke plainly, as he always did, “Would you like to marry Sir Link?”

Zelda was frozen. She was completely unaware how Link felt about her, but now that she was told, everything fell into place. How she found her hand in his several times a day. The softness in his eyes. She’d thought them expressions of duty, but when she looked at the flush in his cheeks as he stared at the floor she knew her father’s words were true. 

Before Zelda knew it, “Yes, I would,” fell from her lips, breathless and sincere.

Link’s head snapped up, looking up at her with a furrowed brow, disbelieving.

“Yes,” she said again, and her heart leapt at the way her knight’s skepticism melted into pure joy, smiling brighter than she’d ever seen him. She found herself giggling at the expression.

“Well then, it’s settled,” the King declared with a grin, “The two of you shall be wed in a year’s time. Now go, I won’t keep you two any longer.”

The young couple raced out of the room, and Rhoam heard the two explode into conversation, no doubt eager to celebrate their upcoming union.

#zelink #loz botw #botw zelink #link #zelda #botw link #botw zelda #loz aoc #engagement #rhoam bosphoramus hyrule #legend of zelda breath of the wild #legend of zelda #aoc link #aoc zelda #fic #aoc zelink #humor #botw

[trashmancan47]

Intrulogical.

TW!!! Language! A little suggestive! Fighting!  In the imagination that was now split into two halves, and shared by the two brothers, were the two creativities themselves, fighting about something stupid once again. Roman furious, and Remus laughing, having fun watching his brother get so mad, and flustered about this small quarrel. Remus had put a plant that tends to kill everything in its path in Romans half on purpose, Roman was throwing a fit, and yipping about the damage it could have done. Roman’s half of the imagination was sunny, and happy, filled with forests, valleys, rivers, villages, people, and so many animals. Remus’ was rainy, filled with swamps, moss, mold, deadly animals, dangerous plants. Now Remus had things there that only he knew about that he kept nice, and taken care of. He would go there when he felt down, or when he was just content, believe it or not Remus could be calm, and quiet, though it wasn’t often, if you just took your time, you’d see he wasn’t all bad. “You imbecile! You could have destroyed everything that I’ve been building up for forever!” Roman shouted at Remus, standing in front of him, fuming. Remus stood there grinning wickedly like normal, and laughing at his words. “HAha! You mean all of this gross happy garbage that you spent a week on! Yeah, sure, I would have been improving it!!” Remus shot back, Roman growling, they had been shouting at one another for some time, and neither had realized that someone else had entered the imagination, and for once, not Roman’s side. Roman poked Remus chest, getting in his face. “Oh shove it! Your disgusting, and you need to keep your disgusting plants, and stuff out of my beautiful kingdom!” Remus put his hands behind his back looking at Roman still, his face growing annoyed, and him rolling his eyes, speaking a little harsher. “Beautiful? It looks like a fucking unicorn puked all over it. Plus yo-” Remus stopped as he felt something inside of him feel like it was being tugged at, which could only mean one thing; someone was in his side of the imagination, and was walking through his forbidden forest. His whole body turned, and his face grew a little distorted, and his expression dropping again, his eyes looking around, his lips slightly parted, but his breath stopping for a moment as he listened. Roman had crossed his arms, and tapped his foot.” “Seriously don-” “-Shush!” Remus put a hand out a finger up as a shush motion, Roman just turning around, and walking off, mumbling to himself. Remus let out a sigh as he started to breath again, and jumping off, him able to jump far, and fast in his own world, he could do about anything. He went to the forest, walking in, and hurrying, jumping up into the trees, and stopping for a moment, holding onto the branch, and the main part of the tree looking around not finding anyone before he started to jump further in, and stopped as he heard a random squawk. “Gah! Fuck!” Remus’ eyes went wide as his grip on the tree had loosened, and his hand fell from it along with him, it not taking long before he landed in a shit ton of thorn bushes, Remus gasping a little letting the pain seep through him, and his eyes growing lustful for a moment, a small moan escaping his lips. “Holy shit~” Remus stood up, moving out of the bushes as he caught his breath, the fall having taken the wind right from him before he started to laugh like a maniac before quieting, there now being tears in his clothes, and thorns sticking out of random parts of him, along with scratches littering his face, and body. He brushed himself off, and picked out most of the thorns, the only major injury being a scratch that was on his cheek, a few inches long, but it didn’t really affect him, he stopped moving as he heard leaves rustling and turned, looking, and looking fierceful for a moment before his expression softened seeing Logan. Remus had to hold in a laugh as he saw Logan hoping on one foot, bent over a little, his other foot up, and Logan’s hand trying to detach a plant that had gripped around his leg. “Come on, let go.” Logan said plainly before yelping as he fell back, closing his eyes, ready to embrace the impact of the fall, but it never came, he didn’t meet the ground. Instead there was another body that caught him, a pair of arms under his own. Logan opened his eyes, and looked up, seeing Remus, he was looking down with a small smile. Logan let out a breath of relief as Remus helped him stand straight, and Remus glared at the plant wrapping around Logan’s leg, the plant instantly releasing, and disappearing, Remus; expression growing satisfied as he stepped away from Logan, and looking up to see the other brushing himself off, and adjusting his tie; and glasses. “Thank you Remus.” Remus just hummed, and looked at the other, seeing Logan smiling a little, though just as quick as Remus went to say something about his smile it faded, and Remus felt a hand on his cheek, and saw Logan closer with concern, and worry all over his face. “Remus, what happened, why are you covered in scratches? Did something attack you, did you challenge another Hogbear? Did you-” Remus put his hand over Logan’s mouth with a small chuckled, Logan's eyes softening as the hand moved to his waist, and the other to his side, Remus pulling him closer. “I fell into some thorn bushes Logie, I’m fine.” Logan gave a nod, and caressed Remus’ cheek for a moment before looking into Remus’ eyes, a fond smile on his lips. “You’re so stupid you know that?” Remus laughed lightly nodding as he smiled, and leaned into the hand that was on his cheek. Logan chuckled, and looked up again, Remus being slightly taller than the other sure they all appeared the same for Thomas, but in the mind, they were all different in their own way. “What are you doing here anyway Logan, you know my part of the imagination is dangerous.” Logan kept his small smile, and hummed, not answering him. Well, not verbally. He took hold of Remus’ collar, and pulled him closer, his gaze turning to one of an unfeed, and unknown hunger which Remus saw before Logan closed his eyes, and pushed his lips to Remus’. Remus had no problem kissing back, his eyes closing too, how gentle the kiss actually was surprised him, though he kept it that soft, and filled with a need for the other. Although the two could sit there for decades, and share this moment, each knew that they couldn’t, and that for where they were, they shouldn’t. Logan didn’t break the kiss at the time he usually did, this time holding it longer, their lips moving against one anothers as he pushed himself to Remus, his arms wrapping around his neck the more gentle they got, honestly Remus could have melted. Logan’s hands traveled to the back of Remus’ head, tangling with his short curly locks, and Remus’ hands were placed at Logan’s hips, holding him close against himself. After what felt like forever, but was actually only three to five minutes Remus was the one to end the kiss, lightly panting for a short moment along with Logan, he grinned as their foreheads connected, and Remus opened his eyes again, but not all the way leaving them half lidded as he looked to Logan. “You came out here to make out with me?” Remus asked with a small chuckle, Logan let his hands fall to Remus’ chest, and pushed him a little as he asked the question. “Oh shush, you loved it, and yes. Plus I’ve been busy for almost a week, and so have you, you even longer for once, so I have not had a single bit of attention for almost two weeks. I couldn’t wait any longer, I wanted you.” Remus grinned, and pulled back a little pressing on Logan’s hips, knowing everything about Logan, including everything about his body. He watched proudly as Logan bowed his head, and pushed his head to Remus’ chest, feeling Logan’s breath pace change almost immediately. “Oh, but I love you, and I was just excited to see you too, I was ready to come to you, surprise you tonight, but Roman threw a baby fit over nothing.” He rolled his eyes, and pushed on Logan’s hips again, as he saw his head start to move up, though Logan’s breath hitched, and his head stayed down. Remus took his hand, and pushed his head up by his chin, seeing Logan’s face red, and his eyes glisten with that same hunger for Remus in any sort of way, making Remus chuckle, and give him a short sweet kiss. “Though now that you’re here, why don’t we go, enjoy ourselves, huh? Anything you want, all night. I’m yours.” Logan gave a short whine after the kiss ended, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard, he controlled it better than he normally would. He looked into Remus’ eyes, and gave a nod. “You’re mine.” Logan said, and pushed his lips to Remus’ again, sliding his hands back up to his hair, and wasn’t afraid to pull it once it tangled in his curls again. Remus gasped against the others lips, and Logan chuckled as he pulled back for a moment before pulling it again, and pulling his head back, exposing his neck, and kissing it, though he kissed back up to his lips, and held the kiss once more, Remus having grinned while his lips were free though he knew that tonight Logan would want to sit, and cuddle. Whether Remus yapped about his day, or his work, or a plant, a deadly encounter, or if it was silent, or maybe if Logan decided to talk about himself for once. Either way, he’d love tonight, and he’d be happy to finally be able to fall asleep next to his love for the first time in far too long for either party. Eventually Remus picked Logan up, and took them to Remus’ castle, laying on the roof, looking at the stars, Logan, much to Remus’ delight, had started to talk about himself, and the week he had. Remus watched, and listened with care, intent, and love. He loved his precious little nerd. All his.

#intrulogical #thomas sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #sympathetic remus #sympathetic logan #sander sides #roman sanders #logan x remus #imagination #mindscape #fiction #original #inspiration #suggestive #Sorry if i forgot to tag something #Please be nice #Love you #have a great day :) #have a great night! #nerd #ratman

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 160

Chapter Summary - Life continues for Danielle and Tom as the world processes their news, some good, some bad and some plain ugly.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Those who were interested in the life of celebrities and those that called themselves critics and/or fans of Tom erupted in joy, revulsion, despair, anguish, excitement and several other emotions at the news of the engagement. Twitter was awash with comments, both from well-wishers and begrudgers. Celebrities who worked with both Tom and Danielle wishing congratulations, as well as the behind the scene crews from both of their different projects. Rumours became rife, theories began immediately. As like several times before, Danielle was accused of being pregnant, that they had to rush down the aisle before the baby came, others that she had his testicles in a vice on something and she was forcing him to do it, then there was those who believed it genuine, posting pictures of them at the Infinity War premiere, him looking at her lovingly as she gave him a nervous glance, the film footage of them with the Cumberbatch's at the South Bank Sky Awards, smiling and looking at each other happily, picture of them from different times, all showing the same expressions, content and love of one another.

A lot of people discussed the situation with Taylor, how she would react, many saying she couldn't care less, others that she would be seething, people tried to analyse her latest movements as that could give an indication as to her thoughts on it. Everyone had an opinion it seemed, from the celebrity news to social media, all swooping on the story to see if they could get something more from it.

Luke kept Tom posted on the general consensus but for the most part, he simply responded to the friends and family that contacted him regarding the announcement and many wanting to know the date for the ceremony. He explained that it would be the following year and promised to keep them informed, noting that to include even just close friends and family would make it a notable sized affair.

For her part, Danielle was harassed/deafened by Nacelle screeching excitedly down the phone at her at the announcement of her news via Viber beforehand as well as being given more than a few congrats from her extended family, including a very excited Siobhan who informed her that Laura was delighted for her, but their mother had seen Danielle's announcement as a form of “one-upmanship” on her cousin and that she was going to try and embarrass Laura. Laura knew this was not true and that her cousin was actually in a longer relationship and had known her fiance longer, not to mention, Danielle would never embarrass Mattie and Bridget in such a manner. Instead of being upset, Laura was actually asking Danielle to check the cost of dresses she had seen online that were apparently cheaper in Britain, she confirmed that they were and two dresses for a one-year-old were bought and sent to Ireland for Caoilfhionn with a note from Danielle that they were “her treat”.

When Danielle went to her office to get her paperwork sorted, she was startled to see a large bouquet of flowers from her workmates and a bottle of champagne on her desk, as well a smiling face on Helena, Amelia's replacement as she had indeed been sent to the US office on her request with a glowing letter of recommendation from Danielle.

She dealt with her paperwork with considerable ease before dealing with the countless phone calls she had to make.

“Danielle, I see congratulations are in order.” Waters declared down the phone. “It’s somewhat peculiar to see my wife open a magazine and see you and your fiance at a premiere but to see it make the front cover of the damn thing, I don't think I'll ever get used to that. I mean, a partner in our firm, front page news.”

“You must be thrilled with the publicity.” She scoffed.

“Well, it's not exactly bad for Safeguard to have you and our business name always put together. But in all seriousness, I'm delighted for you and Tom, he seems to actually have his head screwed on, for an actor. And he's very much mad about you.”

“I find myself concerned as to what the two of you discussed while I was on the phone that day at lunch.”

“He simply made it clear we don't treat you right and that come hell or high water, he's choosing you over everything. Having worked with actors for the entirety of my career, I can honestly say, Danielle, you two are different to most.”

“Thank you, Lucas. Now about the situation on set you were talking about.”

*

After work, Danielle went to an appointment she made without telling Tom, knowing he would fret. She spoke to the physiotherapist regarding her shoulder and was instructed how to tend to it. Her shoulder was also put in kinesiology tape to aid it to recover. She knew Tom would see that so she sighed and thanked her physiotherapist before heading home.

When she arrived, there was a smell of cooking wafting through the house. The mud on Mac's paws as he came towards her to greet her caused her to pause and cock her head slightly before she walked forward. “Tom?”

“Out the back.” The playful laugh in his voice caught her attention. When she walked out, she found her eyebrow raise.

There, in the garden was a children's paddling pool and in it, splashing around like a lunatic was Bobby, yapping and jumping at a floating tennis ball excitedly.

“Hello.” Tom smiled, looking proudly at her. “Do you like my purchase for the boys?”

“Not as much as Bobby does.” She leant up and kissed him. “What made you get this?”

“They looked so miserable in the heat and I googled what people are doing to help their dogs in this crazy weather and it's quite common apparently. Mac sat in it for a minute but Bobby will not leave it.”

“Good, that's great. It's the first time he has went fifteen seconds without panting since this all started.”

“How was work?”

“Boring, paperwork and phone calls mostly, but a lovely bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne were waiting on my desk.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and Lucas was congratulating us too on our phone call. Apparently, you're a sensible man….if such a thing exists.”

Tom growled playfully at her for her jestful comment. “How dare you. Here was I, making the beautiful lady a dinner and not only do you attack me but my entire gender.”

Danielle gave a slight noise and kissed him again. “I'm sorry, my sexy fiance. I am mean.”

Tom could not help smiling and looking at her hand to the antique ring he had placed there as a symbol of his love of her. “Well, when you call me that….”

Danielle laughed for a moment before leaning towards him and kissing him again. “I better get changed and put this paperwork away and after that, I can be all your again.”

“That sounds like a good deal to me.” He beamed and went back to the back door to ensure Bobby did not accidentally drown himself in his attempts to play with the ball.

Danielle returned to the kitchen shortly after and checked on the food to make sure the water was not running low. When she heard Tom walk up behind her and snake his arms around her waist, she smiled. “So, dare I ask the occasion?”

“Occasion?”

“You don't cook this unless you are in the best of moods, so what has you chirpy?”

A light chuckle passed Tom's lips. “You are so observant.”

“I know, it's sort of my job to be.”

“I am have completed my interviews with different women regarding the MeToo movement.”

“That's good, I mean, you know what I mean. How are you after it all?”

“It was exhausting just listening to them, so I find myself wondering how exhausted they are for talking about it and holding it.”

Danielle put her arms around his. “You are a strong man, Tom and you are so good to do this for these people.”

Tom pressed his lips to her shoulder for a moment before sliding his hands up and rubbing them. A moment later, Danielle hissed in pain and moved away. “What…?”

“My shoulder is a sore.”

“Oh, I'm sorry Darling. What happened?”

“Just a swollen muscle, it will be fine,” she dismissed.

Tom swallowed, worried about Danielle's health but knew better than to force his opinion, which was for her to step back from her training, on her. He watched as she moved the arm again and walked over to her backpack and removed the meals she had brought to work with her to keep to her diet and placed them by the sink. “You should consider going to a physio.”

“If it gets worse, I will,” she promised. “So what is your plan now, after everything with the movement?”

“I am not entirely sure, I will play it by ear. All I know is that it's opened my eyes to a lot, hearing how some women are treated, I was so blind to it all as a person. God knows what I never realised about those around me.”

Danielle nodded and mmhmm'd in agreement but unconsciously chewed the inside of her cheek as she washed out the empty containers.

#i hate you i love you #chapter 160 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

[high5nerd]

The Misadventures of Fanty and Pitch Black---Chap. Four

The room he appeared in happened to be a living room of a different person's, and in the distance he could hear the furious typing on a computer keyboard. The living room was simple, yet Pitch had an immediate drawing to it. Must be the black painted bookshelves. They held many thick books as well as encyclopedias that looked ancient, but more than just decoration. The floor was of dark wood, and a nice TV sat below a big window, shining light into the airy room. Pitch walked a bit towards the room with the typing sound, noticing many pictures hung up on walls as well as certificates and photos of movie characters. The walls in the entire flat were a rich purple, and he passed a small room used as a kitchen with a mini fridge and a small elegant table in the middle, with three, mahogany chairs. They looked quite comfortable.

"I like this person's taste in a home. Nice and cozy." Pitch mumbled to himself, ducking into another room with the same purple walls and wooden flooring. This room was obviously a bedroom, judging by the quilted bed in the corner of the room near the curtained window. There were multiple rugs of eggplant purple and dark brown, fuzzy beneath his feet. He looked up at the light fixture, feeling the fan turn slowly. He was surprised to see a poster up there of a man that looked almost like him, but in tight jeans and a white t-shirt, and looked soaked in water. Pitch made a face, feeling really strange at that familiar face, before turning to the person that sat in a black swivel chair at the wooden desk.

He nearly jumped back noticing the girl was staring right at him, unafraid.

This strange girl wore light blue jeans, a fitted t-shirt, and glasses. Her purple hair framed her face and almost reached her hips. The girl did not smile, just stared at him with mild interest. Pitch moved to the right, then slowly to the left, and once he noticed her eyes were following his movements, he felt both relieved and shocked.

"So another freak can see me." Pitch breathed, not looking away from her. Let's see if she'll react like Fanty does.

The girl merely scoffed, looked him up and down, and said with a smirk on her face, "Please, go look in a mirror."

Pitch felt his non-existent eyebrows rise upwards. Now that was bold, even against a Boogeyman.

"Do you know who I am?" Pitch demanded, taking a step towards this new girl.

"Do you know who I am, Boogeyman?" the girl raised a brow teasingly, "I'm Queen of the Universe, and everyone-including you-are my loyal subjects. Now bow before me."

Pitch couldn't help but crack a toothy grin, and his smile was contagious, for it caused this girl to silently laugh as she got up from her sleek desk. She brushed some hair back before turning towards Pitch with a curious smile on her face. Pitch eyed her, smirking.

"I like you." He said lowly, causing the girl to have a quick blush before shaking it off. She was a tough-nugget like that.

"That's a relief." She said, craning her neck to look at her ceiling poster of her favorite singer, Koz. Pitch felt his upper lip curl. He didn't want to look at that doppelganger poster up there.

"May I ask your name?" Pitch asked, folding his hands behind his back.

The girl stuck out a hand, and Pitch slowly shook it. "I'm Mystic Hawk. I'm one of Fanty's friends," she noticed the look on Pitch's face, "Yes, we heard the ruckus down there. It was hard to ignore it. Did Emma really shoot you with a Nerf gun?"

"She did indeed."

That sent Mystic into cahoots. She clutched at her stomach while holding up a finger to make him wait. She finally sighed, took off her glasses, wiped them, and then put them back on, still giggling. "Wait, so she really shot you in the butt? We all heard a high pitched scream, but we knew even Emma can't make a noise like that! You sounded like a cat in heat when you scream."

"I do not!" Pitch protested, but Mystic was already laughing once more, having the need to sit down in order not to pee her pants. The last time she peed her pants laughing was when she and Drago caught Fanty in the middle of dancing to Boogey Wonderland in nothing but her underwear, a button up, and no, not socks, but swim flippers while holding a pink hairbrush. Just the memory of that hilarious moment made her laugh harder.

Pitch frowned, not finding anything amusing at all. So without another word, he disappeared and reappeared into another apartment. This one, literally screamed pink. It slightly scared him. There was graffiti all over the walls, and surprisingly, none of them had written profanity like he's seen in the cities. His favorite one was a long tag that had the word 'fuck' stretched around the base of this brick building, so it looked like a good long 'fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck'. He laughed for days.

Heh…good long fuck. That sounds kinky. His mind snickered, and Pitch growled for that annoying voice to stop.

A giant flat screen TV hung on the wall with the most colorful and large graffiti, and comfortable looking black leather couches surrounded the living room with stylish pillows. The kitchen was enormous, with a fully prepared table with the whole shebang, including fire truck red candles and glassware. He had to admit it, this person was extremely brave to decorate their home like this funky. If he lived here, his eyes would hurt after three hours from the pink walls.

"Hey, you mind? I'm about to leave." A friendly voice came.

Pitch looked at the direction of where he assumed an office was, and there before him stood Star with her shining brown hair tucked into a high ponytail, and thick black sunglasses that hid her big, emerald eyes. She donned light green leggings and a white tutu with green glitter on it, had at least four wooden bracelets on her left arm and had lavender colored nails. Her lime green t-shirt had big, bubbly yellow letters that simply said 'Hey' and she donned a brown leather jacket for the afternoon, windy chill.

"Good God, you're like a grown Sophie Bennett." Pitch blurted, not guilty of it at all.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. I really shouldn't be surprised Fanty has strange friends now, but I still am." Pitch shrugged nonchalantly, "You go out like that every day?"

"Yep. And no judging, because you can't talk. Take a look in the mirror before you walk down the street," Star winked as she passed him with her stylish gait, "such a shame a good-looking bod is hidden under a black tarp."

"-!? It's a robe!" Pitch protested, folding his V-neck closed a bit more and pulling his leg forward to hide his crotch. He felt naked, and it wasn't a good feeling.

"Don't kill anyone, or I'll feed you cupcakes until you explode all over the walls." Star casually said, picking up her car keys and pocketbook.

"I'll end up like your graffiti. Hopefully I'm not going to end up as written profanity." Pitch muttered, but sneered as Star grinned, showing her pearly whites.

Once Star left with Drago and Pitch was on his own again, he wandered and meandered to his heart's content. He had to admit, he was starting to grow a fondness for this building. He found Drago's apartment, and it was mostly cluttered and decorated with beautiful antiques and rustic décor. There was a cherry wood desk in the corner of her room with a well-working computer, and piles of papers and archives filled up all the nooks and crannies of that desk. The bookshelves were organized as can be, though. Pitch had to say, he liked the kitchen the best. He didn't know how a Hobbit themed kitchen would be pulled off so well! The apartment, besides clutter, gave off a feeling of homey comfort, and it made Pitch linger a little longer than the others. Well, he would have stuck around if it wasn't for this mangy puppy that was black with gold cheeks and paws that kept yapping up a storm at him and tugging on his robe with his teeth. The last thing Pitch needed was worn-and-torn clothing. So after frightening the puppy by making a growling noise and baring his teeth, he slunked into a shadow and reappeared in yet another room.

Now, you would expect the whole 'let's describe the décor and what the place looks like because the writer is stalling', but no, the first thing Pitch noticed immediately was that, yes, the occupant of this newly found apartment was waiting for him. She lurked right at the darkest spot in her home, which was right behind a painted rocking chair with dark floral pillows. Just as Pitch emerged, the girl shrieked and gave him a good whack with a rolled up People magazine. Pitch yelped and clutched his ear, his hearing thudding a bit before he shook his head.

"What in devil's name-?!" he started, glaring at the girl.

"Fanty warned me you're sneaking around here! Really? Breaking and entering people's apartments? Shouldn't you just knock!? You scared the living daylights out of me!" Xion scolded, shaking her rolled up magazine at him.

"Good, I prefer the dark rather than daylight. Who the hell are you?" Pitch muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"I'm Xion Five. Now can you please leave? I've got business to do." Xion dropped her magazine as she crossed over to the purple and black striped couches and sitting down.

Before Pitch could ask what she was so busy with that she must ignore a guest, she un-paused an anime movie called Howls' Moving Castle. Pitch gave her a look. "Ah yes, movie watching is serious business. Don't mind me, I'll just be leaving."

"Before you go, you could have some of those strawberry and vanilla cupcakes Star left for me. They have gummy bears on them, they're really good." Xion said, not tearing her eyes away from the screen.

Pitch made a face, but then felt his face fall into shock as he saw the open room used as a display room and an office space. There was a polished desk with a super thin, black laptop and silver mouse, dark bookcases much like the ones in Mystic's apartment, but other than that, he was amazed at the homemade costumes and weaponry that hung on walls and were on mannequins. Some looked like dark Lolita dresses, others looked Elven-like, and some looked like royal mages or even frilly princess stuff. He guessed the clothing was inspired by the anime Xion watched. He especially liked the steampunk jumpsuit with the dark red goggles. Apparently she painted those goggles herself, from what it looked like up close. On the walls hung homemade weapons from anime shows as well, like throwing knives, hammers, magic wands, even giant things like shepherd's crooks, staffs and a scythe that he absolutely wanted to steal, except it was light purple with stars on it.

Wow, she really has a talent in making this sort of stuff, Pitch thought, peering at a neon blue wig that almost reached the floor, so that's why she called it 'business.'

After content goodbyes, Pitch finally met Lil Angel, who was Fanty's neighbor that took care of the Bennett children. Pitch couldn't help but keep her at bay since she was affiliated with those children, but he had to admit she was a very eccentric and friendly person much like Fanty and her friends as well. He only had a peek of her apartment, which was very modern and had many things that were light purple but also light blue, yellow and red. The fuzzy floor was white, and the walls were a cream color that complimented the comfortably sized kitchen that looked as if a batter explosion occurred with fireworks of icing. He also met Angel's pet kitten, Oreo, that seemed instantly attracted to his face so it leaped out of Angel's arms and hugged Pitch's face like a starfish, it's claws digging into his ears.

Pitch gruffly removed the kitten from his face as if it were a leech. It had quite a grip on his face! He held it out to stare at it, holding it by the back of the neck. Maybe if he scared it, the kitten would pee all over Angel's carpet. That'd be funny.

"Boo." Pitch growled.

Angel waited with baited breath, knowing Pitch was trying to make the kitten have a potty mess. But instead of what they thought would happen, the kitten merely mewled and somehow detached itself from Pitch's hand and star-fished his face again, purring into his cheek and nuzzling his nose.

"This is by far the strangest kitten I've ever met." Pitch said seriously, looking at Angel who was trying not to burst out laughing.

"Oreo can be a little lovable. The last dog that tried to chase her ended up getting snuggled so much it ran away from Oreo itself. You should've been there. It was both cute and funny to watch." Angel said, plucking Oreo off his face finally and giving his head a gentle scratch.

"…Was the dog black?" Pitch asked, feeling a smirk threaten at his lips.

Angel thought for a minute, before nodding. "It had a red collar on and bright blue eyes."

"Yeah, I remember giving a nightmare to that dog. Apparently Oreo instilled a fear of kittens in him."

That made Angel burst out laughing, and Pitch truly felt accomplished for making someone laugh once more.

By the time Pitch got back to Fanty's apartment, the strange girl was already lying upside-down on the couch, boredly watching the shadows for Pitch's arrival. It was kind of hard to swallow a turkey and tomato sandwich upside-down.

Pitch raised a brow at Fanty, unamused. "What?"

"Well? Were they cool, or were they cool?"

"…You teens creep me out worse than Tooth's feelings for Jack." Pitch hissed under his breath, folding his arms in a pout.

"OOOOOOH DO I DETECT A CRUSH?! JEALOUSY?!" Fanty beamed, flipping upright and tossing her sandwich on the coffee table, "Wait…Tooth? Jack? Who're they?"

Pitch gagged, feeling a baby barf almost float up his esophagus. "Ew, on Tooth? You're sick."

"Who the hell is Tooth?!"

"You sure you're not the jealous one?" Pitch grinned, and Fanty blushed a bright red. "OW!"

Note to self: Fanty's got quite the fist.

"Tell me who Tooth and Jack are or I'll instill fear into you!" Fanty threatened, making her fingers dance in the air as if she were to summon dark magic.

Pitch laughed rather loudly, still keeling over from when she punched him in the gut. "That only works for me, Fanty. Like this,"

He grabbed her neck and shoved her to the couch, causing her to gasp and clutch at his wrist, her eyes widening in shock at his sudden movement. He kneeled right in front of her, his face just mere inches from hers with an acidic snarl on his mouth. His eyes burned a bright gold, that literally flashed danger. Fanty started to breathe heavily, scared out of her shorts that he was going to hurt her.

"Tell me your fears or you'll see them brought to life." He growled, almost like an angry wolf.

Fanty panicked, forgetting that he was just setting an example of how to really threaten someone. He didn't mean to scare her like that, he was only trying to teach her how to really threaten someone. But he was over the top, and he realized that only seconds before Fanty spilled.

"I'm afraid of heights! I'm afraid of spiders and big fish and I'm afraid of bugs with stingers, and I'm afraid of-!" she cried out.

Pitch slammed a hand against her mouth to stop her, and Fanty saw the worry flash across his eyes. It scared her even more. It scared her so much she nearly wet herself. He looked so startled, so honestly worried that it actually worked and that she was so close to confessing…

But before Pitch could apologize, the door was burst open with a strong kick, and they both heard two voices scream, "HY-YAHH!"

Pitch bolted up, and Fanty turned around to see Mystic and Xion standing with tightened fists, giving death glares at Pitch. Fanty furrowed her eyebrows and shouted, "IDIOT! Look at the door! You busted a crack in it! Mr. Joyce will kill me!"

"DIS BASTARD HERE!" Xion pointed at Pitch, who cursed under his breath as he took three baby steps back.

"Was he hurting you, Fanty?! We received a distress call that sounded like you confessing your fears and we're here to kick BUTT!" Mystic said strongly, cracking her knuckles to prove her strength.

"I wasn't meaning-!" Pitch started, but Fanty stood up on the couch and waved her arms.

"He didn't mean to! He was showing me an example of how to properly threat someone. It's okay, guys. Thanks for the concern, though." Fanty finished with a promising smile.

Xion and Mystic were suspicious, and gave Pitch a doubtful look before closing the door tightly. Fanty and Pitch could still hear them walk down the hall and discuss about fixing the dent they kicked into the door. She smiled to herself before looking at Pitch with an apologetic smile. He breathed a sigh of relief before plopping himself onto a cushioned chair, and put one foot up onto the footrest to really let himself relax.

"That was way too close." Pitch sighed, rubbing his tired face.

"Is it just me or were you just scared of my friends?" Fanty folded her arms with a smug little face on her lips.

Pitch gave her a knowing look before chuckling. "Everyone is afraid of something…I learned the hard way…"

Fanty noticed his eyes turn silver, misty with memories that made his smile fall and for a second, look…remorseful. Her dark brown eyebrows crinkled in worry as she sat on the floor in front of him, watching with pure rapture. How do his eyes do that? She wondered, resting her head in her hand, I wish I could change mine from brown to blue.

"You're lucky you have protective friends like that. I don't have any." Pitch said quite truthfully.

Fanty shrugged, knowing very well why he doesn't have many. She has heard of some sort of war he lost, and she knew from the start that he was apparently a bad egg, but no details whatsoever.

"I'm sure you do. You just haven't found them, yet. You could be my friend if you want." Fanty offered, smiling at the idea.

Pitch scoffed, "With a human? Hun, I am an immortal being that instills fear into every living thing, and I do this as a duty here on earth. It isn't an occupation where I get paid."

"Racist." Fanty pouted, folding her arms like a child, "Then why do you try to drill fear in others?"

Pitch didn't miss a beat. His eyes returned to the fiery gold Fanty was starting to get used to, and he hissed his answer, an answer full of history and angst, "To be believed in. That's what all the spirits do on this planet. They are cursed with the life of immortality and with a purpose, and if that purpose isn't fulfilled properly, they die."

"Wait, whoa, back up!" Fanty held up her hands, "There are other people like you out there?"

"Hardly people," Pitch said, leaning closer to her, "just call them what they are. Beings. Spirits. Guardians." He snarled at the word in spite.

"You monologued about them once, but then I shut you up with a pillow. All I know is that it's Jamie Bennett's fault as well as Jack Frost. Isn't he just an expression?"

Pitch thought for a second, looking away from her earnest eyes. And after some time…he grinned evilly.

"Yes…yes, Fanty. He's just an expression. He doesn't exist at all. But Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and-"

"The Easter Bunny and Sandman do?!" Fanty exclaimed, excitement ringing in her voice.

Pitch curtly nodded, "But they brought me pain. I ruled the very era of the Dark Ages, and they brought me to the shadows at the Earth's core. I tried regaining what once was mine, but I lost the battle yet again. I was so close to gaining a victory, but that stupid child Jamie-"

"Jamie's not stupid," Fanty said, shaking her head vigorously, "He's a smart kid with a big heart. And I know Jack Frost exists because a, he talks about him 24/7, and b, you are a terrible liar."

Pitch stuck out his lower lip, angry at being so carefully read. Fanty continued that she did believe his story, just that maybe there was a better way to be believed in without parents and children hating him. He couldn't help it, he was the Boogeyman for crying out loud!

But there was something Pitch left out in his story. He didn't tell her how his belief was very thin, like the width of a string. But when Fanty spilled some of her fears to him, he felt that string grow stronger, become more durable and thicker. He learned that though kids were the easiest targets for fear, the teenagers have the strongest and most powerful fears. They're trickier to harbor and snag onto, but they're long lasting and can be a better resource than just petty children.

And Pitch liked a good challenge.

Leave a review, follow, favorite, I dunno, bookmark this on yo favorites bar on the internet or something. :D Have a great day/night!

#rotg #rise of the guardians #pitch black #rotg fanfics #rotg fanfiction #fanfics #fanfictions

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

Y’all have DELIVERED on voting today, so here’s a Steter ficlet that took kind of a weird turn but I can’t lie, I don’t regret it at all. 

Stiles waved to the other Lyft driver for the third time that day, a crooked grin on his face. They were both dropping off yet another car full of people at the library polling location.

As three college girls piled out of the back of Stiles’ car, the other driver gestured to an elderly man shutting his own back passenger door, and then made a yapping motion with his hand while rolling his eyes.

Stiles snorted. He never particularly minded the talkative riders, but he knew most other drivers didn’t share that opinion. He shook his head with an exaggerated pitying look on his face, putting a hand over his heart and mouthing you poor thing.

Stiles could practically hear the indignant sound he was sure was coming from the other driver, but it was chased by a reluctant smile so he didn’t worry too much. A second later they were both startled by the sound of a horn from behind Stiles.

He immediately turned around to look out his back window, scowling and flipping up a careless middle finger. However, he did shift his car into drive as soon as turned around, foot on the break. He looked back up at the other driver and saw him waving back once more.

Stiles’ gaze lingered on the other man’s blue eyes and sharp jaw for a moment before waving himself and pulling away from the curb to go pick up another ride.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to catch the blue eyed Lyft man and ask him on a date tonight.

Impatient drivers aside, Stiles really was having a good day. He liked his job. As a Lyft driver he got to meet a lot of interesting people, and most of them were pretty generous with tips. His hours were flexible, which he needed as a grad student, and there were always plenty of people who needed a ride.

His next one was a little further out of town, and the only one requesting a ride in the area. The new man climbed into the back seat, saying, “This is free, right?”

“That’s right!” Stiles answered. “Lyft is offering free rides to the polls for underserved communities, including-”

“Yeah, yeah, all the people who want something for nothing,” the new rider interrupted. “Might as well get mine.”

Stiles paused for a moment, and then pulled away from the house.

The automatic child locks clicked in a silent car.

“Which poll place are you taking me to?” the man grunted after a few minutes.

“The library on 8th.”

“Ugh. No. Take me to the one at the Woodview Elementary school.”

Stiles glanced in his rearview mirror.

“The lines at the library are a lot shorter that the ones at Woodview.”

“Do I look like the kinda person who votes on 8th street?” the man sneered.

“If you’re a registered voter, then yes, you look exactly like the kind of person who votes on 8th street,” Stiles said blandly, facing forward and continuing toward the library. The music played low in the background.

A disgusted huff came from the backseat.

“No one but a load of illegals goes to vote on 8th-”

“Aside from the obvious lie that non-registered voters can get anywhere near a polling booth, what makes you think that immigrants are less deserving of the choices on a ballot? Do you think they’re less affected by the decisions?” Stiles asked, voice idly curious.

The man was slowly getting more and more red in the face.

“Take me to Woodview!” he demanded, ignoring the question.

“Sorry,” Stiles said serenely, “the Lyft offer is only for the nearest polling place. I’ll have to charge you full fare if we go all the way to Woodview.”

“Like hell you will! This is a scam! All you liberal elites-”

Stiles snorted, thinking of his student loans.

“-are in it together, I bet you’ve got little friends working in the library, changing all the votes to Democrat. Buncha deviants, in my day you woulda been taken out back and had sense beaten into you!”

“Brain damage usually limits cognitive function, not the other way around.”

“If you take me to the library on 8th, I’ll have you arrested!!” He smacked the back of Stiles’ headrest. “My brother’s on the force!!”

Stiles glanced in his rearview mirror again and checked off a mental list.

Red in the face.

A MAGA shirt.

And lastly, a Proud Boys lapel pin.

Stiles sighed. So much for trying to get a date with the blue eyed Lyft man tonight. He wasn’t going to have time for anything fun.

__________

The polls closed at 8 p.m. that night. Stiles drove the entire day, but he felt good. A lot of the people he’d given a ride to would have had to take three or more busses to get to the polls, or wouldn’t have been able to get there at all.

He parked beside a densely wooded patch that he’d passed at least a dozen times today, and set off for a stroll.

Night had fallen completely, of course, but the moon was bright and Stiles knew the woods pretty well. He’d spent a lot of time in there as a teenager, doing stupid things. He liked to think the frequency of stupid actions was less now that he was an adult, but he still spent nearly the same amount of time wandering the forest.

Whistling, he kept walking until a flash of muted color caught his eye in the dark.

A red MAGA shirt. Proud Boys lapel pin. And a body with a bullet through the brain.

Stiles sighed to himself. There were four this year. Four! Sometimes he really despaired for the future of this country.

But negative thoughts were no help. The only way out of this mess was to get to work. So, Stiles rolled up his sleeves and started dragging the first one toward the riverbank.

It took hours, but he was finally down the last one. His muscles ached as he dragged the KKK member to a cliff overlooking the river. He liked to vary his dumping points. Too much consistent evidence points to a serial killer, and no one wanted that, least of all the police.

Just as he was about to push the woman into the water, he heard a rustling. More silent than a shadow, he shrank back into the brush, leaving the body where it was.

A huff of heavy, working breath was coming up the deer path Stiles had followed. A little longer, and Stiles started to hear muttering.

“-really just going to tell a complete stranger that you think Hitler had some ‘pretty compelling ideas.’ You just had to look at your Lyft driver and say ‘Hey! I bet this man would love to hear about my genocidal leanings before he drops me off to vote.’ For fucks sake-”

The sounds suddenly stopped completely, and Stiles realized he must have gotten close enough to see the body he’d abandoned.

Stiles stepped out of the brush, finally getting a good look at the other person.

It was the blue eyed Lyft driver, just as stunning as he’d been earlier that day. Standing tall and steady, with a dead body draped over his shoulder.

“Happy election day,” Stiles blurted. “I, uh.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the body behind him. “Was just… cleaning up from one of my rides earlier.”

The blue eyed man stared at him warily for a moment.

“Me too,” he said eventually. “There was an unbelievable amount of trash from some of them.”

“Hah, yeah,” Stiles laughed, relaxing a little. “You want help? I’ll take the arms, you take the legs?”

The man nodded, and before long there were only two bodies up on the cliff, and both of them were breathing.

“I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“Peter.”

Stiles looked over to see Peter glancing up from under his eyelashes, and the butterflies in his stomach nearly broke loose.

“I was going to ask you to dinner,” he said, “but I ended up with a little more after-work clean up than I expected,” he finished in an apologetic tone.

Peter looked delighted.

“I would have said yes.”

“Well, then how do you feel about a late night snack?” Stiles suggested, coming a little closer.

“I think that sounds lovely,” Peter purred out, taking his own step closer. “We can talk about ballot initiative 8.”

“Mm, I’ve always wanted a date who can talk dirty,” Stiles said, taking one final step into Peter’s space as he laughed. Daringly, he swooped in for a light kiss, pressing his lips to Peter’s smiling ones. Peter kissed back sweetly, his smile turning into something softer.

Shyly holding each other’s hands, they walked through the woods, only having to hurry back to the river once after finding a pro-life pin that must have fallen out of someone’s pocket.

As Stiles watched the pin disappear in the crashing waters, he sighed and said to Peter, “It’s such a good feeling to take care of my civic duty.”

#steter #steter fic #murder comedy #black humor #I'm standing by this right now but I do wonder if that will change in the morning when I'm no longer a mess of anxiety and repressed anger #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #tumblr fic and kinda fic

[shadowjack12345]

Day 1 - Unorthodox Sleeping Arrangements Vs Pining

It was a good day. A great day! And the day was so good and great because Raven actually got some genuinely good news.

Azarath lived.

Thought destroyed by Trigon, many survivors from Raven's home had scattered throughout the dimensions, hidden and safe, much like Raven herself. After some years had passed, one of them dared to return, finding a wasteland but, surprisingly, no Trigonic legions serving their lord. From there, that first traveler managed to trace events and learn of Trigon's defeat at his daughter's hands. Overjoyed, they sent out an enchanted signal, one that could be heard throughout the multiverse but only by Azar's chosen. Naturally, this included Raven. She immediately went there, finding dozens, hundreds of others making their own return. They all stopped when she arrived but, to her amazement, they didn't sneer or grumble or glare or glower... they bowed. They sang! Raven had overcome the demon within herself and her progenitor both, they said. Some of the older monks approached her and, as she stared dumbly, apologised profusely, some with very un-azarathi tears in their eyes - apparently their time in hiding had educated them somewhat.

Raven returned to the Tower and informed her friends, half-heartedly apologising to Robin for visiting another reality without even telling him, and then letting them know she would be going back to assist them with rebuilding. She was very clear, though, about one thing: she wasn't leaving the Titans. The others all bombarded her with questions but Beast Boy had only one:

"Uh... how long do you think it might take?" he asked, fidgeting all the while.

"No more than a few weeks. I'm not staying while they rebuild the entire settlement, just the monastery. Most Azarathi monks have telekinetic abilities of some kind - it'll go quickly," Raven answered. Starfire lunged forward and scooped Raven up into a twirling embrace.

"Oh Raven, I am filled with the delight you have your home back!" she squealed. Raven waited for her to set her back on her feet before answering.

"This is my home, Star. I'm doing this for Azar... for my mother. Azarath was their home," she said. Beast Boy still fidgeted, kicking at the floor when he jammed his hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, Beast Boy. There isn't any danger there." Beast Boy grinned superficially and wished her well. Raven left only a few hours later, leaving a charm with Robin that could communicate with her across the void between worlds.

Raven was right: the work did go quickly. None of them were in her league but the monks did retain their telekinetic skills, and the original foundations were still in place. On the third day, Raven felt the charm around her neck pulse, and gripped it in her hand. With a thought, it projected an image in front of her. Probably Robin asking for a report on their progress, she thought. Instead, Beast Boy appeared before her, waving frantically.

"Is this thing on? Hello? Hellllooooooooo-"

"Beast Boy! It's working, I can hear you," Raven interrupted. Beast Boy laughed sheepishly.

"Heh. Sorry, Rae. First time with a magic cellphone," he laughed. Raven raised an eyebrow and watched him levelly.

"What do you want? Is something happening at home?" she asked. Beast Boy stammered for a few moments.

"Well, no, I guess I thought I should maybe make sure this thing actually works and we can get through to you if we need to for whatever reason me might need to talk to you and so I talked to Robin and we thought I should make sure it worked. And stuff," he explained.

"Robin asked you to speak to me?" Raven asked. Beast Boy glanced around himself.

"Uhhh... yes?" he said. His eyes widened comically when, only a few seconds after, Robin's voice could be heard in the background.

"Beast Boy! What have you done with Raven's charm? She said emergencies only!" Beast Boy gulped as Robin's voice seemed to grow closer.

"Um, gotta go, Rae!" he cried, the image of him vanishing. Raven blinked at the space he had occupied for a few moments before turning to head back to her work. She stopped short when she saw she wasn't alone: a monk was with her, in fact the very monk who had been the first to return to Azarath. Originally from Earth, he was considered one of the wisest members of their order, even moreso after their reunion, though his name was rather incongruous with his station.

"Bob. Can I help you with something?" Raven asked. Bob smiled back at her.

"A friend of yours?" he asked, nodding at the charm she had used to speak to Beast Boy. She once again glanced back at where his image had stood, and nodded.

"Yes," she replied simply.  Bob smiled and with a tiny hesitation, like a man still getting used to expressing his feelings.

"He obviously cares very much about you," he ventured. Raven faced him.

"Yes. He does," she answered.

"And you care for him?" Bob asked, cautiously.

"Yes. I do," Raven replied easily. Bob grinned.

"I'm so glad. I worried our lessons on emotional control had been... a step too far," he said.

"Really?" Raven asked, curious now.

"Indeed. During my time in hiding, I, like the others, was forced to confront my emotions again, this time away from the stillness of Azarath. Control, not suppression or denial, is what we should strive for. I'm glad to see you learned that lesson as well, and that you have found friends to share it with," Bob explained. Raven nodded, wide-eyed at his frank explanation, then resumed her work.

A few days later, the charm activated again: Robin, this time.

"Raven, I know you're busy but do you think you could come home for a while? There's something going on with Beast Boy..." he said. Raven pursed her lips.

"Beast Boy? Is he alright?" she asked.

"He's fine, just acting weird," Robin said.

"Weird how?" Raven asked. Robin actually smiled, though uncomfortably.

"Well, it turns out he's been sleeping in the corridor. In front of your door," he said, clearly unsure what to do about it. Raven frowned for a moment.

"I'll be right there," she said.

"Great. I'll meet you in the common r-... Oh. Hi, Raven," Robin said, now speaking to her in person. "Well... I'll show you what I mean." They left the common room and took the familiar path to Raven's room. There, by her door, was the saddest-looking green puppy she had ever seen. Seeing there was no way to preserve his dignity, Raven marched towards him.

"Can I help you, Beast Boy?" she said, arms folded across her chest. The puppy looked up at her and exploded into frantic celebration, running and jumping around her feet while yapping and whining. Then the puppy shifted into a green boy, just as frantic and with a grin almost too large for his face.

"Rae! You're home!" he cried, lunging forward and catching her in a sudden embrace before quickly remembering himself and withdrawing. "I mean... Hey, Rae, back already?" he said with forced nonchalance, though the illusion was almost immediately broken when he couldn't restrain his grin, still bouncing on his feet.

"I am. But not for long. I only came back to..." Raven trailed off, suddenly and keenly aware that Robin had vanished. What should she say? Any idea she might have had about confronting Beast Boy's behaviour vanished as well. "I came back to confirm a few things. With my books. In my room." Smooth, Raven, she thought to herself. Still, Beast Boy was too elated to doubt her.

"Cool, cool. Are you uh... almost finished back there? With the rebuilding?" He asked, transparent in his worry. Raven, stepping toward her door, answered over her shoulder.

"No, I wouldn't say so. Another two or three weeks work, at least," she said. He stopped in his tracks and fidgeted.

"O-oh..." he said, and no more. He waited while Raven pretended to consult one of her books and followed her back to the common room. The others were there and had made her a cup of tea with a few pastries to choose from: they knew how to tempt her into staying a little longer. Rolling her eyes but with a hint of fondness, she sat and selected one of the delicacies, taking a sip of tea before having a small bite. She could tell they wanted to ask about Beast Boy but, with him standing there, they kept quiet. Not that Raven could have told them anything anyway. They asked polite but bland questions about the progress on the monastery and she answered just as politely and rather more succinctly. Half an hour later, she stood and declared she was ready to leave. The others stood with her. She conjured a portal.

"See you in a couple of weeks," Raven said, halfway through.

"Later, Rae-Rae!" Cyborg cried.

"Be sure to check in," Robin said.

"Farewell, Raven!" Starfire chirped, looking to her side at Beast Boy. Who had disappeared. Raven hadn't seen him leave and was oddly irked that he had left before saying goodbye. However, she had already started to step through the portal, and was on her way. Only minutes after she had returned to Azarath, Raven was back at work. On his way to his own work, Bob stopped by to speak to her.

"Ahem. Friend of yours?" he said. Raven turned to look at him with a frown of confusion on her brow. Quickly, her gaze followed Bob's line of sight. Just behind her sat a very guilty-looking and very green puppy.

"Beast Boy?!" Raven said, incredulously. "You followed me. Why?" Silence. "For goodness' sake, at least be yourself while I'm yelling at you." The puppy morphed into an equally guilty-looking boy, toeing the ground with his boot and refusing to meet Raven's eyes.

"M'sorry..." he mumbled.

"I didn't ask for an apology, I asked why you followed me. For that matter, tell me why you've been camped outside my room while I've been gone. Don't give me that look, of course they told me. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Raven shouted. He only stood there, seeming to shrink into himself. Raven suddenly felt remorseful and struggled to find some gentler words when another monk walked toward them, smiling rapturously.

"Oh, wonderful! This is my favourite emotion," he said, eyes closed. "I thought I might never sense it again after coming home." Raven looked at the obviously distressed Beast Boy and back at the monk in distaste.

"That's your favourite emotion?" she asked. The monk nodded distractedly, humming wordlessly in agreement.

"Mmm. And love is always different for each person, so it always feels fresh and new. Glorious," the monk said, finally opening his eyes. His smile fell when he saw Raven staring at him, one eye twitching, while Beast Boy glared at him, aghast and pale. Raven's mouth started to work, though her voice was faint and tremulous.

"Did you say luuuuh... did you say luuuuuh... did you say luuuuuuuuuuuuuuh..." she tried without success.

"Ah," the monk said, backing away. "I see I have overstepped. My sincerest apologies," he mumbles, turning around and almost jogging away. Bob winced as the two teenagers did everything they could to avoid each other's gaze.

"Um, Beast Boy, is it? Perhaps I should send you home," Bob suggested. Surprisingly, Beast Boy recoiled from him and stepped closer to Raven, who flinched when she saw him.

"No, I... Rae, don't send me home," Beast Boy said, circling around and daring to look her in the eye. However, Raven turned on the spot to hide her face from him. "Dammit, Rae! Would ya just look at me?" he cried. Raven froze for a moment, then he saw her shoulder sag visibly. Slowly, laboriously, she turned to face him. She realised her mistake now: she had made an effort to tune out her friends most powerful emotions, more to preserve her sanity than their privacy, and clearly this included some very potent feelings Beast Boy felt for her.

"Well? I'm looking," Raven said, aiming for intimidating but sounding shy and uncertain.

"What that guy said... listen, you don't have to deal with any of that, okay? Just please - please - don't send me away," he pleaded, his voice cracking. Raven, watching him critically, located that mental barrier she had put up, that door to the more passionate emotions of those around her, and she dared to open it a crack. She actually rocked back on her heels when Beast Boy's affection washed over her, muddled and mixed but very, very strong.

Beast Boy loved her.

"What to do...?" Raven muttered to herself.

Raven hovered near a tower of the emerging monastery, her mind carefully rebuilding it from the raw matter around her. Beast Boy was nowhere in sight but, if you took a closer look, you would see she wasn't alone.

Her hood, cast back from her head, contained a very small, very content and very green puppy, asleep and at peace.

-Jack­

#bbrae week 2017 #bbraeweek2017 #shadowjack12345 #day 1

[marshmallowgoop]

Platonic Senketsu/Ryuko fanfic ? ( please ? )

I’m not sure if this is a request for fic recommendations or a request for a fic, so…

If you’re looking for the former, I made a list for Senketsu fic recs a while back, of which most are platonic Ryuko/Senketsu stories.

I also include a lot of platonic Ryuko/Senketsu stories in my own fic, Strings and Threads, a collection of Kill la Kill short stories. Any romantic Ryuketsu will be labeled with “Ryuketsu” there; the rest is platonic.

If you’re looking for the latter, well. I’ve been working on a platonic Ryuko/Senketsu story that might be of interest, maybe?

Title: comfortable

Fandom: Kill la Kill

Summary: A trip to the movies becomes something more.

Notes: Author’s notes/commentary for this story can be found here.

[AO3] [FFNET]

It all begins on July 7th, with a romantic space adventure.

The movie was Senketsu’s idea, ‘cause somehow—and it wasn’t any fault of hers—Ryuko’s ridiculous uniform got it in his ridiculous head to find the trailers intriguing.

Like, intriguing-enough-to-warrant-a-trip-to-the-theater intriguing.

And Senketsu didn’t just want to go as a joke, either. He was stone-cold, dead serious. Some sappy, insufferable love story between an alien and a human that those damn promos and TV spots couldn’t stop overhyping got him all starry-eyed in a way that Ryuko thought only a good ironing could do, and he was completely unapologetic about his excitement, eagerly gushing on and on and on.

And, well, Ryuko wasn’t gonna rain on Senketsu’s parade (he just hasn’t seen enough movies to know any better, she told herself), but if she were being honest, she was absolutely, utterly convinced that no one else in the entire world wanted to see the corny mess. Even Mako of all people passed up on it.

But beyond Ryuko’s most out-there, nonsensical, wildest expectations, Satsuki agreed.

Satsuki Kiryuin.

“I think it looks quite sweet,” Satsuki said, when Senketsu inquired about the cheese-fest while out on one of their shopping extravaganzas. She smiled his way—that-too-nice-for-Satsuki kinda expression that Ryuko’s still getting used to—not even hesitating as she declared, in no uncertain terms, “I would love to go with you, Senketsu.”

Ryuko right choked on her ice cream at that.

Senketsu couldn’t have been happier.

(But he tried very hard not to let it on, the obnoxious outfit.)

Still, even if the thought of her own flesh-and-blood sister having such terrible taste made Ryuko die on the inside a little bit, she put it on herself to see the best of the situation. She was stuck going to the theater with Senketsu no matter what—God knows (if there is a God, of course) that Ryuko would endure ten trillion times worse than a shitty movie to see Senketsu happy—but at least with Satsuki tagging along, Ryuko would have someone else to keep her company, too.

There would be no way that Ryuko’s very own big sis could think such a ridiculous, gooey, feel-good sap trap was any good at all once they were actually there in the theater.

No way in hell.

On the sunny, balmy afternoon of July 7th, Ryuko is wrong.

Very, very, very wrong.

Well, actually, Ryuko tells herself, as the three of them exit the dark theater, the movie was just as bad as she had expected. (Maybe even worse, if she were telling the truth.)

But she certainly, definitely didn’t expect the absolutely nauseating gushing that Senketsu and Satsuki got up into as soon as the credits rolled.

Heck, how they even kept paying attention past the first fifteen minutes is well beyond her understanding, but as soon as Ryuko comes face-to-face with the overly-bright, too-hot reality of summer in Japan, she can’t try to deny the sickening, horrible truth a second longer.

Satsuki and Senketsu didn’t just like the movie.

They loved it.

And they’d spent the last who-the-hell-knows-how-long spouting out nothing but praises and overeager blubbering, and they’re not stopping. They’re standing out in broad daylight and walking down the sidewalk talking their mouths off about the most embarrassing movie to hit the theaters in ten million years.

Ryuko half-considers tossing the last remnants of her Calpis over herself just to get them to yap about something else.

But she doesn’t.

And on they go.

On and on and on.

“If I saw it again,” Senketsu says, after spilling out a whole stream of I know, I know!s, “I still wouldn’t be able to keep myself from crying when the pair parted in Australia!”

He blinks movie-theater darkness from his eyes, staring up at Satsuki, who nods her head. “I didn’t cry, but I got awfully close,” she admits. “The scene was ruined a little by the night sky. There would be no way you could see those constellations at that time of year in Australia.”

Senketsu just about leaps right off of Ryuko’s chest at that. “I was thinking the same!” he cries. He’s as bubbling with excitement as he would be after the best damn ironing in the world, and he pushes Ryuko to walk a bit more quickly so that they can keep up with Satsuki’s always-too-fast pace.

Ryuko only begrudgingly follows his lead, sipping those final bits of Calpis from her cup as obnoxiously as she can.

Neither Senketsu nor Satsuki make any note of it.

“The inaccuracy wasn’t enough to pull me out of the moment,” Senketsu goes on, now right beside Satsuki, “but it was a bit glaring.”

Satsuki nods some more in agreement, and if Ryuko weren’t so fed up over a silly movie, she might have found something amusing or funny or nice about how thoughtful Satsuki is over a thing she enjoyed.

Maybe even something sweet.

But now Ryuko’s just tired and it’s not so amusing or funny or nice or comfortable to be ignored by your clothes and your sister, and she only feels her irritation build inside her as Satsuki continues, “You would think the filmmakers would do more research for such a big-budget film!”

Satsuki shakes her head, frowning a bit, clutching her bag a bit tighter. “And there is also no way that robot could have moved so easily in the sand,” she adds. “It was shaped like a soccer ball.”

“And practically all of Earth’s satellites orbit the planet west to east, not east to west!” Senketsu and Satsuki say together.

They both break out laughing.

Ryuko throws away her empty cup into the nearest trash bin with a grimace.

“I had no idea you were so interested in astrophysics and astronomy, Senketsu,” Satsuki says. She’s now smiling a very strange smile that makes Ryuko just a bit uncomfortable.

Senketsu blushes—at least, Ryuko thinks that’s what he does, since she suddenly feels a lot warmer (and she was already hot enough to begin with in this 500-degree weather).

“Well, y-you know,” Senketsu tells Satsuki, “Ryuko and I have both been to space. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

And Satsuki just won’t quit it with that smile. Ryuko swears it’s only getting worse. Weirder.

“You should take a look at some of the books in the Kiryuin library,” Satsuki says. There’s that overeagerness to her tone that’s almost as uncomfortable as the ever-increasingly-uncomfortable look on her face, and she smiles a bit wider, adding, quickly, excitedly, “I think you would particularly like—“

And Ryuko can’t help herself. She groans.

“Jesus,” she whines. “If you wanna yap about this stuff so much, I don’t think I should be the one wearing Senketsu!”

And they all stop walking. Right there. Just like that.

An awkward silence falls over the three of them, and in retrospect, maybe Ryuko would admit that she maybe sounded a bit too fed up and pissed off.

But at the time, Ryuko feels more than justified in her outburst. Being dragged along in a conversation by your damn clothes isn’t exactly what she would call a good time.

Or comfortable.

But Senketsu hardly seems to mind the abrasiveness of Ryuko’s words. He just brings his full attention to her, his eyes wide.

“Would it really be okay?” he asks. “For Satsuki to wear me?”

And Ryuko can’t really find the words to answer right away. Senketsu can no doubt feel her heart fluttering, and she’s come to feel very, very, very hot—like, way more than the this-is-summer kind of hot.

But Ryuko eventually takes a deep breath, tryin’ to think a bit before she speaks. “Kamui Senketsu,” she says, using the most chastising mom-voice she can muster (even though she’s well aware that she is not convincing in the slightest), “I thought you finally got it through your head that you ain’t just some outfit.”

She pauses, on fire, and then gently, quietly, she adds, “You got a will all your own, Senketsu. You’re your own person.”

They’re still stopped in place. Senketsu can’t stop staring up at Ryuko, and Satsuki is staring, too.

Ryuko bites down on her lip, turning away. “And grown people don’t go around asking other grown people for permission to be with a grown person who ain’t them,” she continues, hastily, face flushing. “Well, at least, they shouldn’t! So you shouldn’t be askin’ me any of this.”

Nobody says anything. They stay standing obtrusively on the sidewalk, and Ryuko can’t help but feel even more embarrassed when she sees that Satsuki’s awkward, uncomfortable smile has shifted into something you’d see plastered on the face of some proud mom at her kid’s violin concert.

But Ryuko doesn’t get too long to fuss over that as Senketsu sighs against her, which she takes immediately as Senketsu-language that he’s gonna disagree with her, or something.

And he promptly does nothing of the sort.

“You’re right, Ryuko!” Senketsu declares. “I should be asking Satsuki if it’s all right!”

So Senketsu looks to Satsuki Kiryuin and the big weird smile that she’s now directing his way (that’s continuing to make Ryuko feel even more uncomfortable), and he asks, very nervously, “What do you say, Satsuki? Would you… wear me?”

Satsuki’s smile only grows. “I would be honored, Senketsu,” she says. “It has been too long. And I—“

Satsuki stops abruptly, meeting Ryuko’s eyes, her icky, uncomfortable smile falling into what Ryuko could only describe as shame.

“And I would love to wear you again,” Satsuki finishes, weakly.

And, well, now Ryuko’s mild (yes, mild) discomfort and annoyance has twisted into the desire to just throw up all the popcorn and Calpis she’d spent the last two hours focusing on rather than the kill-me-now kitsch that was the ridiculous movie she’d overpaid for (even if it was Ladies’ Day, she still always bought a ticket for Senketsu (and the hot mess wasn’t worth even a single yen, if you had to ask her opinion)).

It wasn’t like Satsuki was trying to be a bitch or anything—at least, Ryuko hopes so, anyway. But the reminder of that time just turns and turns Ryuko’s stomach.

She doesn’t let it on.

“Let’s get on with it, then!” she says. “Let’s go change right fuckin’ now.”

“Now?” Satsuki repeats.

“This minute?” Senketsu tries to clarify.

“Right now this minute,” Ryuko insists.

And, okay, maybe she sounds just a little done with them.

But Senketsu and Satsuki agree, however reluctantly.

The three decide to grab lunch at a nearby convenience store, but before they do any of that, they head into the restrooms to change.

Ryuko, for one, is quite glad that no one else is in the facilities when they step inside. Quiet and emptiness meet them in the bathroom (as well as a space that Ryuko has to admit is much cleaner than she would expect from a convenience store).

Ryuko sighs as she enters a stall with Senketsu. Without a word, Satsuki goes into the one right beside her, the door closing with a click.

And Ryuko sighs once more, surrounded by mustard-yellow walls and a gleaming toilet. Though she would never say it out loud—and though she knows she hasn’t even been with Senketsu a year yet—life without him by her side still feels like a gross, distant past, and the thought of walking out of here by herself is… strange.

Uncomfortable.

Ryuko would never say it makes her nervous, though. Never nervous.

Her heart must say otherwise.

“Ryuko…” Senketsu starts, looking up at her with big, concerned eyes.

But Ryuko turns away, pulling him off as aggressively and suddenly as she had the day his memory returned.

She talks fast. “Senketsu,” she groans, “y’know better than to get all chatty in the bathroom. People’ll think we’re doing weird shit in here.”

Senketsu falls to the bathroom floor, leaning up against the wall. “But there’s no one else in here, Ryuko…” he says.

“Whatever!” Ryuko says right back.

She flings open the door and shoos Senketsu out like a little lost child. “Sis,” she says, much more loudly than necessary, “open your door up so Senketsu can get over there.”

Ryuko awkwardly reaches one arm out of her stall, using the other to hold the door close to her (as though to cover herself from anyone who might happen to wander in, but why the hell she gives a shit about modesty anymore is beyond her).

“Also I’m holding my hand out for your clothes,” Ryuko adds. “So, like, just, uh, give ‘em to me, or somethin’.”

“Very well,” Satsuki answers, and very uncomfortably, very ungracefully, she successfully passes her clothes into Ryuko’s hands. (Of course, Satsuki’s prissy ensemble almost falls to the ground what feels like half a dozen times and Ryuko has to stretch her arm out the farthest it’ll go to get to them and there’s a bit of swearing involved, but somehow, they manage.)

And armed with a new outfit, Ryuko retreats back into her stall and locks the door with a frown. Maybe they shouldn’t have done this right now this minute after all. The thought of wearing her sister’s clothes has never seemed so unpleasant—uncomfortable—until she has them in her hands.

“Sats, you dress like such a mom,” Ryuko whines, pulling an ankle-length wrap skirt over herself. Rayon has never felt stranger to her after wearing little but Life Fiber and cotton pajamas for so long.

“And who the hell wears sweaters in the middle of summer?” Ryuko’s barely pulled the cream-colored knit over herself and already she feels hotter than hell.

But Satsuki isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to Ryuko’s complaints.

“Senketsu, you are lovely,” she says to Senketsu instead. “But I do think I’m a little old for sailor uniforms—don’t you think you are too, Ryuko?”

Ryuko’s frown deepens.

“I suppose you are still in high school…“ Satsuki muses.

Ryuko ties the slick white ribbon on the indigo skirt that now covers her into a sloppy bow. “Yeah, I am,” she grinds out. “So, what?”

Ryuko so doesn’t need this kind of patronizing bullshit right now. She fiddles with her sister’s clothes, trying—and failing—to look somewhat presentable. It’s more than obvious that nothing fits her quite right, and the sweater is the worst offender, hanging off her body loosely and awkwardly, the threads bunching up in a manner that’s way uncomfortable.

Deep inside, a part of Ryuko never even wants to leave this stall.

But she’d never let any of those feelings on.

“Do you not wanna wear Senketsu anymore, huh?” Ryuko finds herself asking. A familiar anger bubbles up inside—the kind that’d bring her to strip down to her underwear and take on a gun-toting, even-more-naked guy with just her fists. “I swear, Satsuki. I don’t care if you’re my sister. If you make Senketsu cry, I’ll—“

“And why would I ever do a thing like that?” Satsuki asks.

“I am not so prone to fits of crying!” Senketsu adds. He sounds so damn defensive that Ryuko doesn’t have to be anywhere near him to know that he’s got that hurt, put-upon look on his face.

Ryuko crosses her arms, leaning up against the mustard-yellow wall. “Hmph, excuuuse me for caring,” she says, feeling damn hot in the face, but Senketsu and Satsuki pay her no mind.

“You are an incredible person, Senketsu,” Satsuki is saying. “And I have been thinking. You are certainly more than a mere sailor uniform, so I know you are capable of looking like more, too.”

Senketsu stutters. “I-I…” he says, and though Ryuko can’t see, she imagines Satsuki giving him one of her uncomfortable, weird-o smiles.

“If we do something like Life Fiber synchronization,” Satsuki goes on, “then I know you can become whatever you like. Whatever suits you.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Senketsu says. His voice trembles in a way that Ryuko has hardly ever heard coming from him, and for some reason, it all makes Ryuko feel like she’s melting even more in this unseasonal sweater.

But she’d never say anything.

“I know you can do it,” Satsuki tells Senketsu. “Let’s try!”

“All right, Satsuki!” Senketsu says.

And before Ryuko knows it, together, as one, Senketsu and Satsuki shout out, “Life Fiber Synchronize!,” their words seeming to echo across the empty, desolate space around them.

And Ryuko sinks down to the bathroom floor (that probably isn’t quite as clean as she thought it was coming in) at the sound, letting her head fall against wall, wishing more than anything to tear this suffocating sweater off.

But she doesn’t.

And they laugh. Senketsu and Satsuki laugh more intensely than Ryuko even thought possible for the two of them.

“You look great!” Satsuki cries, when the laughter falls away. “This is exactly something I would put in my closet. How did you know?”

Senketsu can’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “I just gave it my best!” he says. “I saw what you gave Ryuko, and I thought, “If any ordinary clothes can look like that, then why can’t I?””

The stall beside Ryuko opens with a creak, and Ryuko hears her sister rush out with Senketsu, calling her name with that overeagerness that just serves to make Ryuko feel even surer that she’d love to never leave this stall.

But Satsuki insists. “You must see this,” she says. “Senketsu has done a fantastic job.”

“We did a fantastic job, Satsuki,” Senketsu butts in. “Remember, you are the one wearing me.”

So with a groan and a grumble, Ryuko rises to her feet, brushing down on Satsuki’s skirt and sweater and slowly, embarrassingly opening the stall door to reveal a sight that boggles the mind almost as much as the fact that human evolution was literally a thing just because of clothes aliens that wanted to eat them all.

Because her Senketsu… no longer looks like her Senketsu at all.

The outfit her sister wears before her is entirely foreign. Gone are the midriff-baring top, the suspenders, and mini skirt, replaced with a frilly, baby-blue button-up and a cozy-looking circle skirt in gray.

Ryuko wouldn’t even believe that the sight before her was her Senketsu at all, had she not looked towards the elaborate, floral pattern embellishing Satsuki’s collar and noticed, without a doubt, Senketsu’s warm eyes staring back at her.

She swallows very hard, feeling her face turn very, very red.

Satsuki smiles Ryuko’s way. “You ought to try this yourself sometime,” she says.

But Ryuko can only nod, dully, as Senketsu and Satsuki skitter to the bathroom mirrors and laugh and spin in front of the glass, complimenting each other and gushing about their teamwork.

In her head, Ryuko would admit that, well, okay, sure, maybe it is a bit jarring to hear Senketsu’s voice coming from somewhere other than her.

But she would never, ever admit that what leaves her firmly Not Hungry is the strange smile on her sister’s face and how Senketsu and Satsuki just can’t shut up. They’d gone right back to talking about that damn movie again, blathering on and on about this and that and how romantic!

Ryuko could hurl.

Somehow, though, Ryuko manages to at least nibble on her yakisoba-pan.

Then again, never in her life has convenience-store yakisoba stuffed in a hot dog bun tasted as bad as it does right now, as she sits next to Satsuki and Senketsu in the park and they act like some half-baked love story is worth more than a one-word review that just says, “Sucks.”

‘Course, Ryuko thinks, spending so long chewing the ends of a noodle that it quickly just tastes like mushy nothingness, Senketsu would tell her—all smugly and condescendingly—that it’s better to not eat much of this stuff. Junk food, he’d say. How can you expect to keep up your strength with that?

Least, he would say all that crap, if she were the one wearing him.

Ryuko sighs. It’s still summer and hot and sticky (and she’s still stuck with Satsuki’s sweater), but even she could admit that it’s a fine enough day. The sky is a rich, deep blue, the way the sun filters through the leaves is so picturesque that if Mako had come along she’d beg to take about a hundred photos, and sitting here in the shade surrounded by all this niceness—with a cool breeze fluttering by that should keep her from getting too overheated—would normally be great. Any other day, any other time, Ryuko would love to be where she is, eating cheap-o convenience store food with Senketsu and Satsuki beneath the trees.

But now, well. Now she’s never felt sicker. The yakisoba-pan seems to taunt her with its smell and pitiful, this-stuff-was-made-really-fast appearance, and it’s only when a bit of yakisoba slips from its bun and falls to the ground with a heavy splat that Senketsu and Satsuki take any note of Ryuko at all.

Senketsu looks her up and down at the noise (abruptly cutting off some conversation about space and time and love and who-knows-what).

“Ryuko,” he says, his voice filled with the kind of concern that makes Ryuko feel even more ready to just vomit all over the place, “are you all right? You’ve barely touched your food.”

More yakisoba drips from the bun to the ground, and Ryuko watches it fall, making absolutely no attempt to get it to stop. The cicadas are screaming and flies make their way to the dropped food, and, quietly, Ryuko stands herself up.

“It’s shit,” she says. Her voice is surprisingly calm for how much she wants to scream along with the cicadas, and as she makes her way to the nearest garbage can, she wonders when in the world she got this kind of self-control.

Ryuko stops before the bin. “I don’t want this crap,” she goes on, and without any feeling at all, she watches as the yakisoba-pan falls apart in the trash, the yakisoba spilling every which way, breaking away from the bun.

Ryuko takes her place back on the bench beside Satsuki and Senketsu. Satsuki frowns. Ryuko ignores it.

“I thought you’d like that I’m not eating that stuff,” she says. Ryuko meant to direct the words at Senketsu, but, well, actually, it probably applies to the both of ‘em.

Satsuki really didn’t like hearing about all the Cup Curry Rice and instant miso soup she ate before she lived with the Mankanshokus, after all…

And now, Satsuki just frowns harder—and it’s harder for Ryuko to ignore it—her caterpillar eyebrows furrowed in Concern. “Ryuko,” she starts, “are you—“

“I just wanna head home,” Ryuko blurts out. She supposes it’s true, but that doesn’t stop the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I-I mean,” she stutters, “it’s just been a long day, and I’m, uh, like really tired, and, uh…”

Satsuki stands with a graceful flourish and swish of Senketsu’s now long, gray skirt. “I see,” she says. “I suppose it is getting a bit late. I’d best return Senketsu to you, shouldn’t I?”

Satsuki’s sweater might as well be eating Ryuko alive. “Jesus,” she grumbles, looking away. “Senketsu ain’t fuckin’ mine. I don’t own ‘im. It’s Senketsu’s choice to do whatever he wants.”

Ryuko lets her eyes meet his, for just a moment. “Right, Senketsu?”

Satsuki’s blue top looks very suddenly a bit pink. Ryuko tries very hard to smile, though she’s not really looking at Satsuki and Senketsu anymore, and her effort probably just comes out seeming kinda fucked up and demonic.

“Look,” Ryuko says, standing up again herself, cracking her back as though she’s toootally cool with this whole situation (which she is, of course, definitely, absolutely, why wouldn’t she be?). “You two’re havin’ so much fun, so why don’t you stay with Satsuki for a change, Senketsu?”

The words fall out before Ryuko can even stop herself, and both Senketsu and Satsuki stare at her wide-eyed.

Well, Ryuko would be happy to join her fallen yakisoba and the screaming cicadas right about now.

But she can’t stop it with the incessant, worthless blubbering. “Y-Y’know,” she says, trying very hard—and failing even harder—to hide the twitter in her voice, “I was just thinking about how nice it’d be to spend some time away from obnoxious outfits!”

Satsuki and Senketsu exchange worried glances.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Senketsu asks.

“I don’t need ya babysitting me!” Ryuko says—well, shouts, more like, which just serves to make Satsuki’s frown become even more intense.

Ryuko sighs, and more quietly, more calmly, she adds, “’Sides, you should be askin’ Satsuki if it’s all right, not me.”

So up Senketsu’s eyes go, to his wearer. “Would you mind if I stayed the night with you?” he asks.

“Not at all,” answers Satsuki. “But—“

Ryuko claps her hands together. “Well, I am just so glad we got that figured out!” she says. Her attention falls to the baggy, ill-fitting ensemble dripping off her body. “I’ll return these mom-clothes to ya when we meet up again.”

Satsuki doesn’t even react to Ryuko’s insults. She says, “Are you sure—“

But Ryuko storms away without waiting to hear the rest, waving a hand behind her.

“You guys just have fun,” she says, even as she hears Senketsu call her name and Satsuki mutter something or other that she can’t especially make out.

And, okay, sure. The walk back from downtown has never seemed so long.

Fine. Ryuko would admit that much.

Slouching and dragging her feet along the sidewalk, Ryuko keeps herself distracted by kicking along pebbles and listening for the click, click, clicks as they hop across the pavement. Whenever she loses a pebble to the grass or the streets, she picks out another on her path to hit along instead. Ryuko never seems to hold on to a stone for more than fifteen sidewalk squares, and maybe another time that’d annoy her, but she’s got more than enough eating at her now.

It’s not that she’s jealous, of course, Ryuko thinks. Satsuki just doesn’t know how to wash Senketsu right and ain’t got a clue about how he likes to be ironed and maybe Satsuki would hurt herself wearing Senketsu for so long in that weird state because Senketsu was designed for her after all and she’s just concerned, okay?

Ryuko loses another pebble on her walk. This one can’t even have lasted five sidewalk squares, and she pauses on her way, groaning, trying to find another.

But it seems this sidewalk is fresh out of pebbles, and Ryuko ain’t got anything even close to the patience or energy or care to go pick out the one she lost to the grass.

So she’ll just deal with it, she thinks. If Senketsu and Satsuki come cryin’ back to her in the morning, then she could at least say that they’d tried.

Ryuko almost-smiles at the thought. Things are gonna be okay. It’s not like Senketsu is gonna…

Well, Ryuko doesn’t get the chance to ponder anymore on that. Seemingly out of nowhere, she’s attacked with a loud, energetic, over-peppy shout from none other than Mako Mankanshoku.

“Lady Satsuki!” the girl cries. She promptly throws down the yellow sponge she’d been using to clean the family car and rushes to where Ryuko stands, her arms outstretched for a hug.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming to visit!” Mako goes on, but her smile quickly falls as she gets a better look at the very not-Satsuki Kiryuin with the too-big, uncomfortable clothes and ordinary eyebrows and wild hair that will never sit flat, no matter how hard you might try.

“Oh, it’s you, Ryuko,” Mako says, frowning a bit. “Why’re you all dressed up like Satsuki? Where’s Senketsu?”

Ryuko feels her stomach churn. She barely even ate that yakisoba-pan, but she might just throw it all up right now.

She doesn’t.

“Oh,” she says, trying very hard to sound casual, but Satsuki’s clothes don’t have pockets or even little pouches like Senketsu does, so she can’t oh-so-nonchalantly fiddle with something as though the conversation they’re having is no big deal at all (which it isn’t, of course, why would it be?).

She ends up rolling up the sleeves of Satsuki’s sweater, like she’s getting ready for a fist fight. “Well, Senketsu n’ Satsuki just decided to hang out a little while longer, that’s all,” she explains.  

And Ryuko smiles, sort of, melting in this horrible sweater more than ever.

And Mako’s mouth falls wide open.

“You mean that Satsuki is wearing Senketsu?!” she bursts out. “Are you sure that’s okay, Ryuko?”

Ryuko flushes, turning her head away from Mako. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks. “Senketsu is his own person, you know.”

Mako can’t stop looking at her funny, but eventually nods her head sagely. “Okay, Ryuko,” she says, very matter-of-fact, very knowingly. “Your secret is safe with me!” She winks, offering Ryuko a wide-toothed grin, but now it’s Ryuko’s turn to have her own mouth fall open.

“My what now?” she gasps. “Mako, don’t tell me that you still think that Senketsu n’ me—“

“It’s okay, Ryuko!” Mako repeats, patting Ryuko on the back as they walk towards their home. “You don’t have to hide anything from me!”

Ryuko sighs. It’s still one ear and out the other with this family sometimes, but she supposes she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Why don’t I help you with the car?” Ryuko asks, smiling for real now. “It’s… partly my fault that it’s all covered in blood, after all.” (Only partly, though. It’s not her fault that overpass bridges aren’t nearly as high as they should be.)

Mako nods her head eagerly, handing Ryuko an oversized sponge.

Okay, but maybe there’s still something that’s just kinda-sorta odd as hell about changing into pajamas at night and not hearing a peep from Senketsu.

Ryuko steals a glance at the bathroom mirror before going to wash Satsuki’s clothes. Her hair’s just as all-over-the-place as ever, and, feebly, Ryuko brings a hand to her head to push the wild strands down.

It all just fluffs back up again in moments.

Of course.

It’s not like Ryuko would like her hair all flat and silky and refined like Satsuki, though. No way in hell. She’s not that boring, and it’s not her fault if Senketsu’s so boring that he prefers the boring-boringness of Satsuki Kiryuin over her.

Unlike that sister of hers, Ryuko doesn’t have some stick up her ass and isn’t some lame-old fine lady who drinks tea and acts all proper-like and you can tell that even from her hair and…

She’s not jealous, okay?!

Ryuko rushes out from the bathroom with Satsuki’s clothes clutched too tightly in her hands, her fingers digging into the fabric and threads. She scrambles over to the wash tub and throws the garments down more furiously than she should, and fills the basin more viciously than she should, and adds more of Mrs. Mankanshoku’s laundry detergent than she should, and when she goes to scrub out all her sweat and stench, she scrubs much more aggressively than she should, too.

If it were Senketsu she were washing, he’d be screaming and crying at her to “be gentle!” and to “quit it!,” but these clothes say nothing and Ryuko’s just fine with that!

But when Ryuko hangs Satsuki’s too-big, ugly sweater and prissy, ankle-length skirt to dry on the line, and when she heads to bed, there’s an odd sensation that overtakes her, one that she can’t especially explain. It’s a bit out-of-body, a bit surreal, a bit uncomfortable, and when Ryuko pulls her polka-dotted blanket over herself, a part of her hopes that it has only been a dream, this entire atrocity of a day. She’d wake up in the morning and look to the wardrobe and there wouldn’t be an empty hanger anymore and…

And what the hell is her problem, anyway? She’s not five years old anymore, Ryuko tells herself, calling her dad from her dorm every night and twisting that damn phone wire ‘round and ‘round her fingers as he doesn’t pick up. She’s not fifteen anymore, listening to punk-ass bitches she woulda swore were on her side talking shit about her (and going outta her way to break more noses than anyone probably should).

But when Ryuko pulls her sheets completely over her head, to cover herself in total darkness, to hide away from her family and a shadowed wardrobe and abandoned hanger, sleep still only comes to her in short, nightmarish fragments full of Maiko Ogure and Fight Club and dinners all alone.

On July 8th, long before morning, Ryuko wakes with her heart racing and her body slick with sweat, and she sits up quickly, holding a hand over her mouth.

Her pajamas stick uncomfortably to her skin, but it’s not nearly as uncomfortable as the horrible ache in her stomach. That yakisoba-pan’s getting to her, or maybe it’s the Calpis, or the popcorn, but whatever it is, Ryuko needs the toilet.

Now.

She hurries to her feet, careful to step around her family’s sleeping forms as she hops straight to the bathroom, where she promptly throws on the lights and shoves her head over the toilet bowl.

Her mouth falls open. She coughs and gags, and hardly keeps herself quiet. However selfish it is, nothing else matters right now besides getting this shit out of her.

But nothing comes. Ryuko’s stomach feels ready to explode, but nothing comes.

With a groan, she leans away from the bowl, unsure if she should sit around here and wait for the inevitable vomit flood or try to sleep again, but she pauses as she catches her reflection in the water.

She nearly screams, too, when she sees the white gloves that have covered her hands.

“No…” Ryuko mumbles, shooting up to her feet.

But the cracked, murky bathroom mirror confirms everything. Her hair is even wilder than usual, spiking up unnaturally—so much so that no amount of pressing down or water or hell, even gravity could tame it—and it’s streaked with red and blue, adorned with twisted silver that juts out from her scalp.

And it laughs at her. Her entire appearance laughs at her.

“Come on, Ryuko…” her reflection says. It has the most shit-eating grin on its face, and its eyes are wild and manic, the lids painted scarlet. “Did you really think he would want to stick with you?”

It laughs some more, and Ryuko backs away. She leans against the wall, pulling at the blue-edged collar that brushes uncomfortably against her cheeks, but it’s stuck, stitched on, and this time, no amount of tearing or snapping seems to get it to budge.

The expression in the mirror darkens. “You’re so damn annoying,” it says. “Actin’ all high n’ mighty, like you can jus’ get away with anything you want ‘cause you think you deserve it.”

Ryuko stops struggling. Her reflection glowers. “But here’s the thing, princess. You can’t erase what you did.”

It smiles once more, and Junketsu only seems to hold Ryuko tighter, its fabric pulling her so close that it’s suffocating.

And Ryuko can’t say anything, as her reflection laughs in her face, and Junketsu screams, and the white gloves won’t go away.

And she still can’t say anything, as blood covers the mirror and splatters over her, and she sees in the glass the blurry image of Senketsu drenched in red.

And so it is on July 8th that Ryuko really wakes with Senketsu’s name on her lips.

She only barely manages to keep herself from shouting out, clamping a hand over her mouth before she can make any sound at all.

It’s late—or disgustingly early (Ryuko can’t say she can tell). The house is as quiet as it ever gets, filled with only the distant sounds of the screaming cicadas and the gentle rumble of her family’s snores, and it’s so dark that Ryuko can hardly tell that the hanger perched on the wardrobe is empty.

She pulls her hand away from her mouth, staring down at her blanket, ignoring the uncomfortable, too-hot feeling she has on account of her shit sleep tonight and her shit dreams.

And nervously, twittery, Ryuko bunches and bunches her sheets up in her hands, smiling a little, knowing that any other time, Senketsu would tell her to wear his glove “for protection against the nightmares!” right about now, and she’d say back (like always) that he’s being ridiculous and she doesn’t know where he got it in his head to spout out that kinda crap.

But she’d do what he said anyway. Of course she would. Of course she would.

And of course Senketsu would rather be with someone who never betrayed him and treated him well and Senketsu and Satsuki had even come up with Senjin-Shippu together and that’s something she hadn’t considered and it’s not Senketsu’s fault that she’s terrible and he’s tired of putting up with it, right?

Ryuko shakes her head, falling back into bed. No, no, she thinks, Satsuki and Senketsu can’t possibly get along like she and Senketsu can, of course not, no way, Senketsu was made for her after all, isn’t that right, and after those two spend one night together they’ll realize that—

That what?

Ryuko turns over to her side, facing away from the wardrobe and towards Mako, who sleeps just as heavily as usual. Piles of drool puddle up across Mako’s pillow, and normally, any other day, Ryuko would inch away at the sight of all that spit.

But now, tonight, Ryuko is instead filled with a sense of longing. If only she could get some sleep.

And then she just kinda wants to swear at the top of her lungs at the thought.

What the hell is she sittin’ around moping about? It’s not that she’s jealous or anything petty like that and tomorrow everything will return to how it was anyway and besides there are just ways that things should be and Senketsu being with Satsuki all night isn’t how things should be and Ryuko can’t sleep only ‘cause she’s been horribly amused this whole time ‘cause it’s just so damn funny and there’s a natural order to stuff and—

Okay, maybe that’s not the best way to put it.

She’s just—she’s not jealous, right?

Right?

Ryuko turns over once more, back towards the abandoned hanger glistening in the starlight, and no matter how much she tells herself that it’s nothing and she’s fine and it’s not like that (of course it’s not), she can’t sleep for the rest night, tossing and turning even worse than she did right before she first faced Satsuki all decked out in that piece-of-shit Junketsu.

It’s only when streaks of morning punch her in the face that Ryuko thinks back to her dreams and Junketsu and then Senketsu covered in blood that she knows it’s not jealousy at all, what’s kept her up all night.

But the truth certainly doesn’t make her feel any better, and if she could only get some damn sleep, she’d just stay in bed all day.

Easily.

But at 6:17 AM, Ryuko gives it up. She forces herself out from the warmth and comfort of her sheets—‘cause of course Satsuki would be wide awake at that godawful time in the morning—and she punches in the number of Satsuki’s cell on the phone, pulling the cord with her ‘til both she and the phone are outside.

Cool summer air hits Ryuko’s skin and the sound of ringing hits her ear and she shudders at the thought of figuring out what exactly she’s going to say.

Just seein’ if you survived one night of my obnoxious outfit, she thinks. Just checkin’ up to make sure yer not dead.

The more Ryuko considers, the more ridiculous it all sounds.

The more Ryuko thinks about it, the more uncomfortable everything feels.

But Satsuki picks up before long, gigging incessantly. “This is Satsuki,” she says, still laughing. “Hush, Senketsu! It’s important to keep a proper presence on the phone!”

Well, that certainly doesn’t make Ryuko feel any better. She blanches, clutching the phone wire tight.

“You sound well,” Ryuko says, dully. Faintly, Ryuko hears Senketsu laugh, too, and it takes everything she has to hide the hurt in her voice as she adds, “Senketsu sounds great, too.”

“Oh, yes,” says Satsuki, trying—and failing—to keep her tone level and free of giggles. “We are both doing quite well, Ryuko. And how are you?”

Ryuko doesn’t get a chance to really answer (and it’s not like she would want to, anyway). Satsuki seems to turn her full attention to Senketsu right then, and the phone line is filled with incoherent fuzz and split-off conversations and laughter and Ryuko could really be throwing up now, probably?

But she doesn’t.

“Forgive me, Ryuko,” Satsuki eventually says, after an annoyingly-loud throat clearing. “Senketsu would like to talk to you, but I’m not quite sure about the best way to get him to speak over the phone—“

The line fills up once more with laughter. And fuzz. Tons and tons of fuzz.

Ryuko pulls her head away from the speaker, groaning.

“Okay!” Satsuki says soon enough, very loudly, as though she is far away. “I’ve put the phone against Senketsu. Can you hear him?”

Ryuko scowls. “I can just hear you, actually.”

“Very funny, Ryuko,” comes Senketsu. His voice is still a bit fuzzy, but it’s clear enough that Ryuko can tell that he is in high spirits. There’s a bounce in his tone—the kind he gets when he’s being ironed or when they go flying in Senketsu-Shippu.

And Ryuko didn’t even think it was possible at this point, but her own spirits fall below the ground and straight into the Earth’s core at that. She can’t find anything to say back to Senketsu, standing with the old landline phone held up against her face and her fingers nervously twirling and twirling the coiled wire, her whole body burning hot no matter the chill, early-morning summer breeze that can’t stop hitting her.

Senketsu must notice. Of course he does.

“Are you all right, Ryuko?” he asks, all kindness and worry, and Ryuko can only clench her fist around the phone wire at the sound of it.

“’Course I am,” she says, so loudly that she might-probably be bothering the too-close neighbors whose houses are just about rammed up against her own. “In fact, it was so nice to get a break from your annoying ass!”

Ryuko spits onto the ground, scoffing like she’s about to go fight up against the latest competitor ever. “I think you should stay with Satsuki longer!” she says.

Senketsu is quiet. Ryuko’s heart races in her chest. Well, it is nice to get away from how he can read shit like that so easily.

Not like being distanced really stops him, though, and he says, very Concerned, “Ryuko, are you—“

And Ryuko clutches the phone wire so hard she might just have to invest in a new one again.

“I said you should just stay with Satsuki longer, didn’t I?!”

She doesn’t wait to hear anything more. Ryuko busts back into the house, slamming the phone down with a too-loud huff, her face very red and her heart still beating way too quickly.

If this is the way it’s gonna be, she thinks, it’s completely fine! It’s more than fine! She’s just so incredibly, wonderfully fucking fine!

And maybe Ryuko would just simmer in her complete and total fine-ness, but a knock sounds on the door before she even knows it, startling all her thoughts and leaving her suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s breathing hard and fuming after talking with her clothes on the phone at 6:30 in the morning.

But something tells her that the door is for her, so Ryuko makes her way over, giving absolutely no shits about how her hair must be even worse than usual and giving even less shits about how the strands really oughta be stickin’ up in fifty different directions and she also doesn’t give any shits about how she hasn’t changed out of her pajamas and she definitely, absolutely, 100% doesn’t fucking care about the dark circles that must be drooping off her eyes because she slept worse than garbage and would probably just fall over if she weren’t so fine right about now.

So Ryuko opens the door, looking very much like the trash she slept like, only to see none other than Senketsu and Satsuki themselves.

And she promptly slams the door in their faces.

Satsuki wrenches it right back open. Ryuko scowls.

“You really flew all the way over here?” she asks. She tastes the nasty-ass morning breath in her mouth, and she hopes it smells just as bad as it feels. “What the fuck for?”

Well, that makes Satsuki look quite Exasperated. “What for?” she repeats. “Because of this sight before me!” She gestures up and down at Ryuko, her motions uncharacteristically sloppy and frenzied—but completely-characteristically full of Concern.

Ryuko only feels her irritation grow. “Says the one wearing Senketsu around like that in the middle of the street,” she says, dully.

But neither Satsuki nor Senketsu are really paying any attention to her anymore, quite content with talking among themselves as though Ryuko isn’t even there.

“I told you,” Senketsu is saying, his voice obnoxiously matter-of-fact, like his I’m-only-a-year-old ass really knows more than anyone else, “Ryuko needs someone to keep her in check. It was selfish of me to leave her alone all night.”

Satsuki frowns. Ryuko could spontaneously combust. Mako tells her people have done that at her dad’s “hospital” before. It’s possible.

But she doesn’t.

Satsuki says, “Senketsu, but what if it’s simply the stress of—“

And Ryuko can’t take another word. “I am right fucking here,” she says—well, just-about-screams-to-the-heavens, more like. “You wanna say something about my appearance or whatever the hell else, you can say it to my fucking face! Or blow it out your fucking ass!”

And Satsuki raises one of her giant caterpillar-butt eyebrows at Ryuko at that outburst. “Ryuko, as your older sister, I am just concerned—“

And, well, Ryuko doesn’t wait to any more. She slams the door on the two of them (again), fuming. She would have thought that this patronizing crap was behind Satsuki ever since the two of them had figured out their blood connection, but now she’s half-convinced that this shit has just become even worse: it’s gone from just patronizing to the kind of garbage, over-protective, big-sister, patronizing for your own good crap.

And it’s just made even worse when added on to Senketsu’s already worry-warty self.

And it’s only after Ryuko has stood still for a good few seconds that she notices the entire Mankanshoku family behind her.

“Don’t say anything,” she says, and she storms off into the main room before they even have a chance to stop her, as if she could really get away that easily, grimacing as she catches the sight of Satsuki and Senketsu in the window.

Ryuko slams that shut in their faces, too.

Doesn’t stop them from running their mouths, though.

“Senketsu would like to say that he cares about you very much, Ryuko!” Satsuki shouts, her voice just as loud as it had been when she’d spouted out orders from the top of Honnouji Academy. (Her tone is just as irritatingly commandeering and contentious, too.)

“And Satsuki loves you very much herself!” Senketsu adds.

“We’ll be back in the morning!” they shout together, and though Ryuko doesn’t watch, she hears them fly away, chattering among themselves, and she falls back to her sheets at the sound of it, pulling the covers up ‘til her shoulders.

Well, there’s no way she’s going to school today. No way, no way, no way.

But Mako is in the room in only a moment, peering over at Ryuko with big bug eyes. “Ryuuuuko,” she says, leaning over, her hair brushing up against her neck, “we have to get ready to go or we’ll be late again!”

Ryuko pulls the covers completely over. “I’m sick,” she says. She turns the farthest away she can from Mako, scowling to herself.

“Yeah, heartsick!” Mako cries. With a great huff, she pulls Ryuko’s sheets away and scowls a scowl that could rival Ryuko’s own, refusing to let Ryuko grab back her covers (no matter how much Ryuko’s hands reach over to snatch them back from Mako’s grip).

“Ryuko, you can’t cure your heartache moping around here, so stop it! You’re not gonna win the fight for Senketsu’s heart lying around here on the floor all day!”

Well, that brings Ryuko right up to her feet.

“The what?!” she gasps, hardly keeping herself from falling over.

Mako gets very, very close to Ryuko’s face.

“You heard me!” she shouts. “The. Fight. For. Senketsu’s. Heart!”

Ryuko’s mouth falls open. Her face burns.

Mako can’t stop staring at her with starry eyes.

“Two sisters,” Mako says, dreamily, “torn apart by love! What tragedy! What horror!”

Ryuko could die.

She doesn’t.

“Okay, first of all, there is nothing appealing about that kinda situation,” Ryuko manages to say. “But you’re misunderstandin’ again. It’s not—“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ryuko!” Mako cries. She drapes a dramatic arm across her forehead, shutting her eyes and leaning over as though the weight of what’s going on is too much to handle.

“I see the way you look at Senketsu!” she says. “I see—“

And Ryuko promptly snatches her blanket back from the distracted Mako and pushes herself right back under them. “I’msickandstayinginbed,” she says, but Mako lifts her up as though she’s nothing, the covers falling away.

“W-what are you doing?!” Ryuko blubbers. She struggles to break free, but Mako’s grip doesn’t let up one bit.

“I’m rooting for you!” Mako declares. “You are going to win this war! I’ll make sure of it!”

Mako brings Ryuko right into the bathroom and plops her flat down onto a chair that seems to have come from nowhere because Ryuko is sure it wasn’t there last night and she’s slept like shit and—

God, all she wants right now is just to sleep.

Ryuko sighs (for what feels like the millionth time in the last 24 hours). “Look,” she starts to say, but she stops pretty abruptly when she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror.

Oh, she thinks. She does look horrible. For real.

Her hair is sticking up in every direction, defying all logic, reason, and, well, that gravity thing. It seems more than impossible to have just woken up like that, but there her hair hangs above her, a frizzy, wild mass of human and Life Fiber and…

Right. Maybe it’s not so weird, being what she is.

Ryuko turns away, quiet. There’s only so much lookin’ at herself that she can stand, especially when her pajamas are crinkled and too tight and falling off at the same time and her face is all red and her eyes are all bloodshot like she’s been crying but she hasn’t been cryin’ not a bit not even a little she hasn’t she—

And Ryuko is quite quickly forced to notice that Mako’s taken a wet brush to her hair. She gasps suddenly, breaking herself away from her thoughts, grimacing as cold water drips down her neck and forehead.

“…and once Senketsu sees how popular you are,” Mako is saying, and Ryuko realizes all at once that she hasn’t heard a word of whatever the heck Mako had been goin’ on about up to this point, “he’ll see just what he’s missing and come running right back! He’ll see that he’s your uniform and only yours!”

“But he’s not,” Ryuko says. The words come out much calmer than she had expected, and even she is surprised by the composed tone she’s taken on. “He’s not mine. He can do whatever he wants…”

Mako pauses in her furious brushing of Ryuko’s hair. “And date anyone he wants?” she asks. “Look deep inside yourself, Ryuko! You don’t want Senketsu with anyone but you and you know it! You have to fight!”

Ryuko feels her hair deflate—and not from Mako’s brushing “Why would I have to do that?” she asks. “It’s his life.”

“But what about your life?!” Mako cries. She stands before Ryuko, placing her hands firmly on Ryuko’s shoulders, squeezing, tight. “Ryuko, you deserve happiness with Senketsu!”

Ryuko pushes Mako’s hands away, her touch gentle. “You’re still misunderstanding,” she says, and then she smiles a little, as much as she can. “Senketsu and I aren’t like that at all.”

“But—“ Mako tries, her eyes very wide, but Ryuko squeezes Mako’s hands now, and the girl quiets.

“We’re not like that,” Ryuko repeats. She stands, and Mako doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves the bathroom, her hair dripping icy water that falls to the floor and across her pajama top, and as she prepares herself for the day.

She’s fine, Ryuko tells herself. There’s no reason to stay in bed. She and Senketsu aren’t anything like that at all, so what reason is there to be upset? To sit around mopin’ all day?

None. No reason at all!

So why is it, Ryuko thinks, as she sits in class that day, and hastily finishes her homework, and unenthusiastically jams food into her mouth at lunch, that she can’t stop thinking of him? Why is it that every classmate that passes her by reminds her of him, and his stupid comfortable fabric, and reminds her of how he isn’t there to talk with her anymore, and to tell her to calm down, and—

Mako’s gasp breaks through Ryuko’s thoughts. It takes Ryuko a moment to realize that the hamburger steak between her chopsticks had fallen right to the ground.

“How horrible!” Mako cries. She frowns at Ryuko, her expression very serious. “Ryuko, you have got to talk to Senketsu!” she pleads. “Otherwise, there will be more unnecessary food death!”

Ryuko scoffs. “Food death?” she repeats. “Aren’t you just going to eat that anyway?”

Mako already has the fallen bit of steak in her hand, and she turns a bit red at Ryuko’s accusation. “T-that doesn’t matter!” she insists, jamming the hamburger steak into her mouth. “You still have to talk to Senketsu!”

“I’m glad to get a break from that obnoxious know-it-all,” Ryuko answers, just as she has been this whole time, poking chopsticks into her smiling tako sausage, but she drops some lettuce and tomato to the ground before lunch is over, and she can’t pay any attention at all to her afternoon classes, no matter how much she knows she ought to be thinking about end-of-term exams.

On July 8th, Mrs. Mankanshoku prepares a bath for Ryuko after dinner, just as she always does.

“Take as long as you like, dear,” she says, extra sweetly, more so than usual, and Ryuko tries very hard to hide her embarrassment.

She just wasn’t hungry, she wants to say. That’s the only reason why she just pecked at her food more than she ate it.

But Ryuko still spends an extra-extra-long time in the bath, drenching herself in the horrible, wonderful stench of cucumber and vanilla, trying to let herself believe that it’d be enough to make her feel better, and to quell her fears, and to allow her to imagine, just for a moment, that she is not alone.

And maybe it would have worked, if Mako hadn’t caught Ryuko returning Mrs. Mankanshoku’s homemade laundry detergent to its proper place.

Mako looks Ryuko up and down then, her eyes catching on Ryuko’s wet hair and the detergent pail still clutched in her hands.

“Ryuko,” she says, very slowly. “What were you doing?”

“Taking a bath,” Ryuko answers. Her grip around the detergent pail tightens. She feels very hot.

Very uncomfortable.

“With Mom’s laundry detergent?” Mako asks. She frowns, only for her eyes to get so big that Ryuko becomes half-convinced that they’ll bug right outta her face.

“Oh. My. God!” Mako cries. She gets very close to Ryuko’s face, that bug-eyed look still very much staying put. “Your love for Senketsu is so strong, you even want to smell like him! How romantic!

Mako’s expression darkens. “How tragic!”

And Ryuko is so exhausted and overwhelmed that she can’t find it in her to even be surprised or offended at Mako’s outburst.

She just stands very still, her hair dripping, her grip on the laundry detergent slipping.

What was she even doing?

Mako takes a hold of Ryuko’s free hand. “Ryuko,” she says, “you have got to fight! Fight for your love!”

Somehow, Ryuko manages to shake her head. “You’ve got it all wrong,” she tells Mako, for what must be the umpteenth time. “It’s just, I’m… I’m part-clothes, right? So who says I even can love, huh? And-and, who says I should even use human stuff in my baths, huh? Maybe I shoulda been usin’ laundry detergent my whole damn—“

And Mako quite abruptly takes Ryuko by the shoulders. “Do you want me to iron you now, too?!” she cries. She’s got a wild, almost manic look to her now, her big brown eyes wider than ever. “Ryuko, listen to yourself! You can’t replace Senketsu by being him! You are Ryuko! You aren’t Senketsu! You have to fight, fight, fight!”

Ryuko looks away. “Fight for what?” she asks.

And Mako looks more than ready to spout on and on about that, but Ryuko’s grip on the laundry detergent just so happens to slip completely right then, and the pail falls to the ground, dumping laundry powder all over the floor.

“Shit,” Ryuko says at the sight, and she groans, and she falls to the ground herself, to pick up the mess she made, but something about that damn tipped-over, rejected laundry detergent pail and the scattered powder brings a sob to her throat, and she clasps a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

Mako softens at the sight, not even hesitating to crouch down beside Ryuko, wrapping gentle arms around her.

“Ryuko,” she says, and there is none of the dramatic flair or fighting spirit in her tone any longer, “you have to talk to him.”

Ryuko dully nods her head. She swallows back her tears, calms her breathing. “Yeah,” she says, quietly. “Yeah. You’re right.”

And shyly, she brings her own arms around Mako, and returns the hug.

It’s not until the late evening that Ryuko sums up the courage to call Senketsu, and she stands a long moment before the phone, her hair now dried, the stench of cucumber and vanilla filling her ‘til she feels sick.

Mako gives her two thumbs up. Ryuko takes a deep breath, reaching her hand for the phone…

And the phone promptly rings as soon as her skin makes contact with the cheap plastic.

Ryuko picks it up, hesitantly. Mako scurries away with a grin.

“Hello?”

There’s silence, and then, quietly, “Ryuko.”

Senketsu. Ryuko can’t help herself. She freezes up at the sound, twirling the phone wire in her fingers.

“Senketsu,” she says, “I…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Ryuko swallows, shuts her eyes. It’s so much different over the phone. She just wishes… she just wishes…

“I’m worried about you,” Senketsu says for Ryuko, filling the space. “Satsuki is, too. We’re going to come over in the morning.”

Ryuko manages a laugh. She acts like it’s a surprise, like she hadn’t heard them declare that they were coming back just this morning.

“Again?” she asks. “You were just here!” She tries to force another one of her lies, that she’d hoped they’d stay away a little while longer no matter what they’d said before, because she was just starting to get used to all the peace and quiet she got without his annoying ass around.

But Ryuko can’t do it anymore, and she’s silent, her mouth dry.

“We have… something to tell you,” Senketsu says, and Ryuko doesn’t get any time to react to that as he shouts a hasty, “Goodbye!” and the line goes dead.

Ryuko takes a long moment before she puts down the phone, and when she finally forces herself to, she does it slowly, quietly, standing horribly still.

It’s only when she sees Mako in the corner of her eye that she grits her teeth together, her hands folding into fists.

“Well,” Ryuko says, much more loudly than needed, “if there was a fight here, I sure got my ass handed to me!”

Mako’s smile falls, and she is uncharacteristically quiet, and she stays that way as they prepare themselves for bed—for sleep that Ryuko knows will never come.

Something to tell you, she thinks.

So, it’s true after all.

Morning takes too long to come.

Ryuko rises as soon as she sees the first glimmers of light, stepping quietly outside to watch the sunrise.

She pushes away the thoughts of Senketsu watching the sunrise with her when she couldn’t get any rest.

She pushes away the thoughts of wearing his glove to bed.

She pushes away the thoughts of sleeping with her hand over her heart, to keep that worry wart satisfied with the sound of her heart.

Ryuko absolutely, positively, most-definitely does not think about any of that shit as scarlet and orange and dandelion-yellow light up the sky, so she doesn’t know why her face is wet when she comes back into the house and why her insides are so twisted up with her real issue here that she can barely breathe.

She wipes her face as quickly as she can muster when she sees Mako already awake.

“You’re up early,” she blubbers, as nonchalantly as she can (which is about as “nonchalant” as a Mako ten centimeters away from an all-you-can-eat buffet).

Mako pays Ryuko’s tone no mind, though. “Of course I’m up, silly!” she says. She seems to want to be whispering ‘cause the rest of her family’s still asleep, but there’s a kind of bubbly excitement in her that has it so she’s just-about shouting. “I have to help you get prettied up!”

“Prettied up?” Ryuko repeats.

“Of. Course!” Mako cries. She takes her hands from behind her back, revealing one of the new frilly outfits she’d gotten on one of their shopping trips.

Mako shakes the fabric with a grin, and Ryuko doesn’t have the chance to say or do anything as Mako grabs her by the hand and rushes her to the bathroom with an over-eager, “Come on!”

Ryuko only manages to escape Mako’s makeover to open the door for Satsuki and Senketsu, but by that time, it’s already too late. Her hair is tied back into two girlish pigtails, and to make her even more of an eyesore, they’re all held up by pink ribbons that match the oversized bows on the frilly, ruffly, pink-and-purple dress drenched in lace that Mako had begged her to put on.

Her entire ensemble also matches her bubblegum-pink lipstick.

“You’re going to wear clothes so cute that Senketsu’ll be green with envy!” Mako had said. “And the rest of you will be even cuter! He won’t be able to resist!”

And, well, Ryuko thinks she must actually look like some ridiculous cosplayer who’s lost her way to her convention—and she’s probably a million times more uncomfortable than a girl in that situation, too—but she pulls open the door for Satsuki and Senketsu in the ridiculous get-up all the same. (And tries very hard to ignore their wide-eyed stares.)

“So, what’s so important that you had to come all the way over here to tell me about?” Ryuko asks, as casually as she can muster, but she knows that she can only sound so casual when she’s wearing an outfit and makeup more fit for a magical girl anime than reality.

And she can only be so casual when she knows that Senketsu has decided to leave her for Satsuki.

For good.

She clenches her fist at the thought.

Satsuki can’t stop with the staring. Neither can Senketsu. He’s a navy blue dress today, not too unlike his usual self (though, being on Satsuki, his fabric falls to her ankles, of course), and his eyes rest on a red scarf that Satsuki has tied around her head as a headband.

“Well, Ryuko,” Satsuki eventually manages to say, averting her eyes oddly, “I think… Senketsu would like to sit down, for this.”

“Well, Senketsu can tell me that himself, can’t he?” Ryuko asks in a huff, but she softens a bit as Satsuki holds out a bag for her.

“I know it’s a bit early,” Satsuki says, “but I made these for you earlier this morning. I hope you like them, and that they’re still warm.”

Ryuko takes the gift with a heavy heart. A consolation prize, huh?

Part of Ryuko wants to be angry at the gesture, but she only feels a mixture of guilt and pity and shame when Satsuki explains, “It’s nothing much, but I thought you would like some homemade yakisoba-pan after the other day.”

Ryuko swallows the lump in her throat as she peers inside and sees the neatest fucking yakisoba-pan she has ever seen—with yakisoba so damn perfectly kept inside the bun!—all enclosed in cutesy-pink food storage boxes that Ryuko would have never, ever fathomed her sister having.

“Thanks, Sis,” she manages to say, and she lets them in, prompting an overly-excited Mrs. Mankanshoku to make them all some tea.

But Senketsu is quick to drop the news before any tea arrives and before Ryuko even has a chance to open up the yakisoba-pan, running his mouth almost as soon as they sit at the table.

“Ryuko,” he says, all nervousness and anticipation and quiet enthusiasm, Ryuko trembling horribly at all of it, hardly even able to breathe, “Satsuki and I wanted to tell you that…”

Senketsu looks up at Satsuki before he goes on. Ryuko is so uncomfortable she can barely believe her Life Fiber-infused heart hasn’t just given up by now.

But it clearly hasn’t, and Satsuki nods her head, and together, she and Senketsu look right at Ryuko as they say, quite matter-of-fact, “We’re dating now.”

And, well, Ryuko is quite silent for a long, long moment.

Satsuki’s cheeks flush. Senketsu sweats.

And then, without any warning at all, Ryuko breaks out laughing.

She doesn’t even know how she has it in her to get such a bombastic sound out of herself on account of her shit sleeping for the last two days, but somehow, loud, shrill laughter pours out of Ryuko, and she pounds her hand on the table, blinking tears from her eyes.

“I don’t see what is so funny,” Satsuki says, sounding hurt.

But Ryuko just keeps laughing through it. “Okay,” she says, amidst giggles, “you’re tellin’ me that-that…” She pauses, more and more laughter spilling from her lips, her chest aching as she wheezes and gasps for air.

“You’re tellin’ me that,” she tries again, still spluttering out laughter, still hardly able to breathe, “that-that-that Satsuki Kiryuin—Satsuki motherfucking Kiryuin—is dating—dating—my Senketsu? That Satsuki Kiryuin and—“

But, well, Ryuko can’t quite go on after that.

That’s right, she thinks. Not her Senketsu. Not anymore.

Ryuko grits her teeth together. She laughs again, but it’s no longer the kind that’s for something funny.

“So, it’s true, huh?” she asks. “You’re-you’re really… pushing me out, huh? Don’t wanna be my uniform anymore, huh?”

Somehow, Ryuko gets up to smiling so hard that her face hurts. “Well, it’s about time!” she says. She leans back, crosses her arms as coolly as she can. “Being my uniform must blow! And-and, I was just thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it was—“

“Ryuko.” It’s Senketsu, his voice carrying none of his annoying, know-it-all sassiness, instead full of sappy, feel-good goo that makes Ryuko feel a million, trillion times worse. Senketsu wouldn’t bother to be an asshole when he’s dumping her ass, of all times he should be an asshole?

She’s just about ready to call him the biggest dick in the world, but Senketsu speaks first, his voice far too gentle, too kind.

“Is that what this is all about?” he asks. “You think I would abandon you?” A bit of laughter comes over him. “After all we’ve been through, Ryuko? Why in the world would I leave you now?”

“Because you’re an obnoxious outfit and it took ya this long to get it through yer head that you shouldn’t bother with someone like me,” Ryuko says—mumbles more like—her face very red, her fake-ass smile long gone, and her eyes very sore.

She fiddles with the ends of the pink ribbon on her frilly bodice, keeping her eyes fixed on the stupid thing. “But it still took ya less time than my dad, so I guess you’re not that out of your mind.”

“Ryuko.” Senketsu has gone right into a somber sort of Seriousness, and it makes Ryuko’s stomach turn and turn. “I would never, ever leave you,” he says. “You know that, right?”

Ryuko is silent. Senketsu sighs.

“Ryuko, Satsuki is my girlfriend, but you—you’re my soulmate.”

Ryuko looks up to see Satsuki nodding her head. “I couldn’t keep the two of you apart if I tried,” she says, with a wink. “You’re “two in one,” remember?”

Ryuko looks away, but even she can’t help the small smile coming over her. “Is-is that so?” she asks.

“It is,” says Senketsu. “Now, why don’t you take that ridiculous outfit off and put me on instead? I can be anything you’d like!”

He looks towards the bag Ryuko’s left on the table. “And you should make it quick! Before the yakisoba-pan get cold!”

“This coming from you?” Ryuko wants to say, but she doesn’t, her entire being overwhelmed with something so strange and new and different that she can’t speak.

But it’s not uncomfortable. None of this is uncomfortable at all.

And okay, maybe Ryuko smiles just a bit and is just a bit glad when Satsuki’s scarf comes her way, and she brings him into her arms, and she wraps him around her neck, just like they’d done when she had sworn on everything that she would bring him back if it were the last thing she ever did.

And when Ryuko finally returns her sister’s clothes, and goes to come back into her own, she thinks that someday soon, she will be too old for sailor uniforms, and Senketsu will be too old to be sailor uniforms, too.

But right now, on the brisk, balmy morning of July 9th, Ryuko is still in high school, and still a teenage girl, and she thinks, she’s going to enjoy that for as long as she can.

And she’s glad, and satisfied, and so damn comfortable, that she doesn’t have to say a word to Senketsu about any of it, as he comes to her, and she comes to him, just as they always had.

#Anonymous #kill la kill #ryuko matoi #senketsu #satsuki kiryuin #mako mankanshoku #writing #strings and threads #replies #goop fic #klk fic #i am so sorry this is literally 2 months old #but i was taking 5ever to finish writing this thing ^^; #i tried to write something 'fun' but... #i don't know how well i succeeded at that ^^; #my brother was like #'if you wanted it to be 'fun' you shouldn't have written it from ryuko's pov' #and like #yeahhh #probably... #anyway #i am feeling so sad rn #because i just told my boss to take me off a work assignment because i know i'm not capable of doing it #and i know it was the right thing to do but... #i just feel so bad #especially because i shoved that awful assignment on one of my coworkers now #so here's a 'fun' fic that i hope is maybe-kinda feel-good... #also senketsu and satsuki's comments are taken like directly from neil degrasse tyson tweets lol #also public restrooms in japan have stalls that go -all the way to the floor- #which is why i had to write that scene in the bathroom that way