#using some consideration & discretion?? in my me??? i mean i guess i do that a lot actually lmfao. i never x except when i always do. etc

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Malleus Draconia Bloom Birthday Personal Story: Part 1

"Happy Birthday"

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Diasomnia Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Malleus: So, this will be the third time celebrating my birthday here at Night Raven College. I still have not adjusted to all this revelry.

Malleus: I wonder who was chosen as my presenter this year. I do hope they haven't run off in fear of me… Hm?

???: Breathe in, breathe out… Okay, let's go. EXCUSE ME!

Ace: It's Ace Trappola, your chosen presenter. Malleus-senpai, happy birthday!

Malleus: Ah, it's you. My gratitude for your well wishes. I am looking forward to this today.

Ace: Same here, please go easy on me. I'm still just a first year, so it'd be great if you could look past a mistake here and there.

Malleus: I will see what I can do.

Ace: You'll see what you can do, huh… Eh, I guess that makes me feel a bit better. Mmkay, I'll get started with the first question.

Ace: "If you could use flight magic to go anywhere, where would you like to go?”

Ace: Also, apparently you don't gotta consider limits to your magical power. Although, I don't think that's really relevant to you, Malleus-senpai.

Malleus: That is true. I have the ability to fly wherever I wish to in this world.

Malleus: Yet, even if I were to arrive where I intend, I would not necessarily be allowed to enter.

Ace: So what you're saying is… There's places even you're not able to go?

Malleus: Indeed. If magical power is of no concern, there may not be much difference in our available choices.

Malleus: After all, if I were to visit your familial home without an invitation, that would be troublesome, would it not?

Ace: Aaah, yeah… I get it. You're saying it's different from when my neighborhood friends came over wanting to hang out, huh.

Malleus: Heh. You grasped that quite quickly, Trappola.

Ace: I also already figured out one more thing from what you said just now. You already have a place in mind, don't you?

Ace: If we don't gotta worry about magical limits, then we can just ignore any of the more practical choices, right?

Malleus: I see. There may be some truth to what you say, Trappola.

Malleus: Were I allowed to travel anywhere at my own discretion… There is this one castle that comes to mind that I have been wishing to visit for a while.

Ace: A castle!! Like, you mean somewhere one of your prince or princess friends live?

Malleus: No, it has been quite some time since anyone has lived there.

Ace: Huh… So, it's a tourist spot? What kind of castle would make you want to visit so much?

Malleus: If it piques your interest, you should glance through your magical history textbook. There are paintings depicting the height of prosperity for the country in question.

Ace: PAINTINGS!? NOT PICTURES!?

Malleus: That is right. By the time humans had developed photographic technology, that country had already fallen into ruin.

Malleus: It was once considered a splendid and gorgeous castle… However, it must be fairly deteriorated now due to rain and wind.

Malleus: I am quite curious just how much of its former glory remains, of when they would hold ceremonies and balls for almost every conceivable occasion...

Malleus: I thought I would like to see with my own eyes just how much the castle has evolved through the ages, and walk the grounds myself.

Ace: Uhhh, so basically, what you're saying is… You like real old buildings?

Malleus: Simply being old is not the only consideration.

Malleus: It must a place where one can sense the presence and daily lives of those who once dwelt here.

Malleus: I quite prefer the desolate atmosphere of ruins such as that.

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by @sakurakudo

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #ace trappola #twst malleus #twst ace #twst birthday #twst translation

[unproduciblesmackdown]

a goofy movie (1995)

#a goofy FILM(tm) #flashing gif #i said i'd do it!!! (i did not say that i would actually make my own gifset but i love Exercises lmfao)... #forgot i drafted this & oh well that it's 10:30pm est....content at all hours babeyyy #since i'm a Connoisseur about this now like catch me brawling w/a lion king fan all ''that 1 was more the peak execution of Spectacle!!'' #and like it's not just me i'm far from the only person On This or else i would probably never have checked it out at all #seeing as i was 1 when it came out & just never happened to see it at any point afterwards...but ppl talk about it now & then lmfao #but like i'm with team ''by 'underrated' i don't even mean it Should Be Checked Out or Is Pretty Good'' lol like Underrated = Understated... #beyond the context of ''it's underrated'' or even ''the best disney movie'' it's just That Good on its own #like i say....just entirely succeeds at doing what it's trying to...this stuff never faltering like wrow start to finish it's Chef's Kiss #as a Movie as Animation as a Musical as a Story as an Exploration / Commentary Re: Parent / Child Relationships. & more! #as i was making these i was like ''OH this 1 moment is another Parallel For Circular Structure!! they did it again lmao'' like love it lol #heroically used Restraint to think through what even to gif...b/c yknow you can only represent So Much via the visuals of a few shots #like what works best Out Of Context & is more than just ''i espesh like this visual'' coz there's plenty of that...but also consider visuals #using some consideration & discretion?? in my me??? i mean i guess i do that a lot actually lmfao. i never x except when i always do. etc #well another shoutout to comrademaxgoof lol i see & appreciate your return shoutout & respect it all vm #and to all other aficionados who uh check the tag? or ever might: #a goofy movie #OH and i knew there was something else lmfao just a little Fun Fact for all us gamers!! #when i went ''boy it'd be handy if allll the scenes i happened to want to gif (also there's plenty of scenes i Really Extra went Wow for but #did not gif lol. again the discretion re what i felt would be Best Gif'd when Considering It All...) were posted on youtube passably hi res' #then i ended up going ''wow Youtube User zan zun has a Lot of the scenes posted'' to the degree that i just went to their vids section #then added up the Time of every scene they had posted; then when adding in the length of the Credits; it turns out that when compared to the #official Total Runtime of the film(tm) there's only a 5 to 15 sec discrepancy b/w that & the combination of all their clips lmaoooo ty hero #so......write that down for academic research purposes if you want lmfao. that's youtube user zan zun #and it occurs to me part of that ''extra'' 5 to 15 sec might just be the disney production logo thing...prob part of the Official Runtime #they have it all in a playlist too....ingenious

[bittermuire]

a nightlight and a bottle of wine

recently I’ve really loved nezriel and wanted to write a lil thing for them. this will be two parts, this is the first. modern au

---

It’s not like Nesta really knew what she was doing when she moved out. All she knows is that there is a rift between her and Feyre; a scar splitting their shared skin, a wound opening and reopening, never to heal.

And so she’s away. They’ve made their mistakes and let them be. They’ve hurt each other and even tried to love, but sisters love each other too much for love—and so she’s away. The guilt is still there, but farther from her, now. Nesta stirs it into her morning coffee and drinks the sleep, wiping it from beneath her eyes and the lines around her mouth.

Every so often Cassian will text her, inviting her out to dinner or to a work party, and Nesta resists the urge to throttle him. He’s a very smart, thirty-five year old man. He should know what cutting off someone means.

(He knows, of course he knows. She guesses he just thinks it doesn’t apply to him.)

His roguish charm, his smirk, his low voice, all inviting her to one thing—sex—was beginning to exhaust her. It’s a surprising relief to be away from him. She feels like she can wear tank tops and let her hair down and go out without a bra, relieved he won’t be there to stare.

(Was she really so afraid of him?)

So Nesta lives her life and drinks her coffee, wears her tank tops and sleeps in her underwear, finally a woman in the way she’s always wanted to be; she feels discrete from the rest of the world but in a near comforting way. She has no one to disappoint, no one to miss. Her world is confined to very few people and her mind allows for one.

•

But there are things that trip her up. Remaining ties.

One such: the nightlight clipped to her bed. It’s cheap, a gaudy silver. She’s sure Azriel bought it for no more than two dollars.

But she uses it every night.

(This trips her up.)

It’s a routine she’s given to herself, written into the margins of her life; she climbs into bed, smooths the blankets over her legs, grabs her book, opens it on her lap, then twists and switches on the light. It illuminates the page with a pretty, golden sun. She uses it religiously. She thinks that if she lost it, some intrinsic part of her might be lost as well, and this frightens her.

Remaining ties should be snipped. These last threads should be spooled up, put away, hidden in the bottom drawer.

She switches it on anyway, watches the light trace the letters.

(Sometimes she thinks she is the black stamp of letters. The utter bleakness of them on the smooth page. Sometimes she thinks she is what ruins the paper. She is what ruined the paper. There’s a reason she is here and they are there.)

•

November 19th.

Happy birthday to me.

She buys a cake from the supermarket and blows out the candle.

There’s a knock at the door, late at night. Not thinking to check, she goes to open it, and there stands Azriel, still in the doorway, bottle of wine in hand.

“Happy birthday,” he says bluntly.

She lets him in for some reason she still doesn’t understand, and they end up drinking a glass together. It’s from Cassian, the wine—his favorite. Azriel tells her that Cassian didn’t think she’d take it from him.

“So he asked you,” she says.

He smiles. “Because you like me.”

1:00 AM, and they’re still drinking. They barely talk. They just sit; they sit on the kitchen stools, then the rickety chairs, then the floor, then the couch, then back to the floor. His cheeks are pink, his words slurred.

“Why’d you come?” she asks, peering down at where he lays, splayed out, on the carpet.

(He’s not the kind for favors, she knows that.)

Opening his eyes, he fixes his gaze on her. He smiles sleepily.

“Happy birthday, Nesta.”

•

She doesn’t really celebrate for the holidays. Her apartment is bare, save a pair of twinkling bells on the kitchen counter, tied with a red ribbon. Sometimes when she’s cooking she’ll give them a little ring.

The letter comes in the mail—from Feyre, clearly put there by her own hand. It’s an invitation to dinner, for the winter solstice. They’re celebrating early this year because they’re going out of town for a few weeks.

(Please don’t feel pressured to come. We were going to leave you be but Az, since he’s so considerate, thought you might appreciate an invite.)

Nesta picks up her phone and texts Feyre a simple no thanks.

•

The next morning, she opens her door to a bottle of wine. Its neck is tied with a cherry red ribbon, and there’s a note—“If you’re ever lonely, give me a call. It’s my favorite.”

She doesn’t need to see who it’s from to know.

She smiles and picks it up, taking it inside.

•

It bites, the loneliness.

She wasn’t prepared for the quiet.

She traded in insults and jabs and sweaty hands at dinner tables for nothing, nothing, nothing. Silence in the shower, silence over breakfast. Over time, it’s begun to grate on her skin, sift between the strands of her hair, and she feels like she’s swimming a meter below the surface, ears clogged, vision blurred.

And slowly, she’s started to cry; she cries when the silence is too loud, when her aloneness is real, when she realizes the ugly truth of it all. She’s alone, she has nobody, she’s alone.

She picks up her phone and dials his number. “Let’s drink your wine.”

A small quiet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I know, Nesta,” he laughs. “I’ll be there.”

•

They don’t drink at all, actually. She starts crying again the minute she sees his face.

“Nesta?”

•

“I’m fine, really.”

They’re walking down the aisle of the grocery store, weeks later.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m doing better, I am.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. Pick a flavor. We’ll eat it, we’ll watch a movie.” He looks her up and down, brow creased. “You need two things—no, make that three things.”

She huffs a laugh, sticking her hand into the freezer and pulling out a carton. “What?”

“Sleep, ice cream, and company.” He grins. “And now you’ve got me.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.”

•

He’s seen her beautiful; he’s seen her ugly. He’s seen her in her rattiest apron with flour crusted into her fingernails. He’s seen her laugh so hard she cries, watched her slam her head into an open cupboard door, driven her to the hospital when she sliced her hand open with a knife. They’re together a lot, she realizes. They’re not halves; they’re one and one, and one and one make two, and they stand as two together on sidewalks, squinting at menus in the windows of restaurants, and they pet dogs in the park (Nesta always asks, because Az gets shy), and they take walks at midnight, and they live their lives contentedly next to each other’s. She starts to wonder if he splits his life into two—into Cassian and Rhys and Mor and Feyre, and into her, the girl who walked away. She’d like to know why he followed her.

Sometimes she’ll catch herself staring. Even before Cassian, she’d thought Azriel was the most beautiful of the three; all graceful, sloping shadows, soft and deep eyes, curling black hair. Her heart doesn’t know what to do anymore. It skips a beat when she sees him, but calms when she’s near him. It races when he leans close, falls to steadiness when he slings his arm over her shoulders. She can’t decide if she loves him like this or loves him like that. He means so much to her, means so many different things, that to give him a singular word wouldn’t fit.

She calls him Azriel, Az, Steve, Steven Shadow, Mr. Shadow, Ralph, Ron, He of the Candied Pecans, You. He responds to all of it. Recently he told her that it wasn’t because of the name, but because of the voice—(of course I don’t know who Ralph is, Nesta, but your voice, it’s your voice you use for me)—and she felt warm for reasons she couldn’t understand.

She shows up unannounced at his apartment when it’s a bad night. He does the same.

•

“Tell me the truth,” she begins, tipsy. “Did you like me before?”

“What?”

“Did you like me before?”

He frowns. “Elaborate.”

“Before you learned I’m a nice person. Back at the townhouse. When I hated everyone and was rude to you.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little. “I always liked you,” he says, and then his face settles into something like sadness. Nesta watches him closely. “I didn’t like… the way you made me feel, though. I’d see you down the hall, tired and everything, a stick of a person, and Rhys would make some joke, and I’d hate him.”

She blinks.

He looks down. “I’d never hated him before.”

There’s a tension between them. It’s common enough to be recognizable, but not enough to be familiar. She’s on edge, unsure.

The silence seeps in.

“And I hated myself, too,” he says. His eyes flick back up to hers.

Her breath catches in her chest. “I hated myself because I didn’t do anything. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, overwhelmed. Everything is building; everything is quiet. His eyes are deep and dark and swirling. He shakes his head slightly, leaning closer, slowly, slowly, and she sees it all happen—he takes her face in his hands. She can see the stray strand of hair on his forehead, the one eyelash resting by his nose, the mole right above his mouth.

“I watched you fade,” he breathes. “I watched them pull you around.”

She twines one finger into his hair, trying to bring him closer, trying to have him closer. Come here, Azriel. Come with me. Be with me, love me, because I love you.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, because it’s all she can say.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, and kisses her.

•

“Wait,” he says, reaching up.

“What?”

He touches the nightlight. “You kept this?”

She laughs, curled into his side, and says, “Of course I did.” He drops a kiss to her hair. “They all bought me books. You made it easy to read them.”

—-

@acosfisfeysandpropaganda I finally wrote it!!

#nezriel #nesta x azriel #nesta archeron #azriel shadowsinger

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 17

Chapter 1     Chapter 16

Marinette shook her head and tried to hide her giggles. Red Robin had to have thought he was being discrete, right?  Unless he was intentionally making himself known as a way to intimidate any more rogues from trying to get to her.  He was discrete enough that the average person probably wouldn’t notice him, but anyone paying attention, looking for him, would see him easily.

She waited until he was looking down at her again and waved at him.  He smiled and waved back before blushing, shaking his head, and motioning for her to continue. Marinette grinned and looked back at the map on her phone.  The restaurant Jason chose was around here somewhere.  One of the places he just ended up at a lot, he said.  Low key and cozy, exactly the kind of place she needed right now.

After that, he said he was planning on following her around for the rest of the day.  He’d said it in a joking tone, but she knew there was nothing joking about his intent.  He would be shadowing her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t hide the gravity behind the statement.  He couldn’t mask the concerned questions, no matter how casually he tried to play them off. The insistence on seeing her apartment, make sure the view was good enough and the kitchen was stocked enough. The way he casually suggested she teach him how to make a baked good she liked.  

Honestly, she was shocked he let her walk there on her own, but he said he’d be have eyes on her anyway.  She looked back up at Red Robin with a smile.  Clearly, he wasn’t kidding.  White lensed eyes.  The smile quickly morphed into a frown when she couldn’t see him.  He hadn’t been hidden this whole time, so where was he now? She squeaked and whirled around into a fighting stance when she heard someone land behind her.  She barely had time to put her hands down before Red Robin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder while he looked around, eyes sharp and calculating.

Marinette followed his lead and scanned the crowd. In lieu of knowing what she was looking for, she kept her eye out for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked normal though. Nothing seemed suspicious.  There were a few people throwing them odd looks, but nothing that seemed hostile or calculating, instead it seemed more curious and fearful of what having a vigilante dropping down in the middle of the night meant for them.

Red Robin turned back to face her.  “Let’s get you somepl…” his hand went up to his ear. “Shit!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in fear.  “What happened?  Did someone get hurt?”

Red Robin’s eyes looked around them again and narrowed at one of the buildings.  He moved his arm to her back and firmly pushed her toward the building. “Nobody is hurt.”

She looked at him doubtfully.  “But…”

“There’s just an issue that needs attention, but nobody has been hurt,” he assured her, looking down briefly to meet her eyes.

Marinette nodded uncertainly, not feeling calmer with his reassurance.  She couldn’t see his eyes past the white filters to gauge his sincerity, and it was unsettling.  “So my friend and brother, my… the Waynes, they’re… nobody is hurt?”

Red Robin paused almost imperceptibly.  If she hadn’t become used to his constant pressure on her back, she wouldn’t have noticed.  He looked back down at her as they walked, the tense muscles in his face softened considerably.  “They’re all safe.  Your friend and brother and family.  They’re all safe.  I promise. I just need to go assist someone, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.  “I can defend myself you know.”

Red Robin gave her a deadpan expression. She’s sure if he didn’t have a mask, he’d have his own eyebrow raised at her.  “After last night, you can understand that we and your family are a bit concerned and perhaps a bit overprotective just right now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn’t fight him.  “So you’re going to, what?  Hide me in some abandoned office until everything blows over?  That sounds safe.”

Red Robin huffed out a laugh.  “Absolutely safe.  That is our standard approach.  I’m glad you understand how we operate.”  He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher with his mask in the way.  “No.  I think your family would hunt me down if I did something so reckless with you.  They’re quite protective, you know?”  

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly.  He was a stranger.  There was absolutely no reason to get into her family dynamics with him.  “No,” he continued, oblivious to her uncertainty. “I’m going to stash you with someone we know we can trust.”

Marinette looked up at him with narrowed eyes.  “A babysitter.”

The corners of Red Robin’s mouth quirked up. “Well, if you’re going to whine like a baby…” he teased.

Marinette gasped dramatically.  “If you want whining, I can show you whining.  I grew up with the most spoiled brat in existence.  I can give new meaning to the word.”  Red Robin actually laughed as he opened the door to the business.  “You know, I’m supposed to meet my… um… br… brother,” she stuttered over the word.  “Jason’s going to wonder about me.”

Red Robin cringed slightly.  “You should probably text him.  It isn’t a good idea for you to go out until this is resolved.” Marinette nodded and shot a text off to Jason letting him know she was okay and Red Robin was putting her somewhere safe for a bit.

They heard movement from the building, finally drawing Marinette’s attention to the business they had gone into.  “Can I help… T… Red Robin?  Marinette?” Roy asked pushing out from behind a motorcycle with its transmission in his hands.

“Hey, I was hoping you could watch Marinette while I take care of something.  You’re a friend with the Waynes right?” Red Robin asked pointedly.

Roy stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in.  “Yeah. Yeah, we’re like fam…” he looked over to Marinette, “well, not family family.  But, uh, yeah.”

Red Robin cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips.  “No, I’m pretty sure you are con…” he was cut off by something in his com.  He paused for a moment to listen before turning back to Roy with what Marinette was pretty sure was supposed to be a glare.  “I’m trusting you,” he growled.  “There’s some madness going on.”

Roy’s face turned serious and he gave him a determined nod.  “I’ll protect her.  Go.”

Red Robin looked between them for a second then nodded and took off.  Roy and Marinette watched him leave for a second before turning back to each other. Marinette gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she waved sheepishly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Roy gave her a welcoming smile and motioned to the garage bay.  “Not at all. I guess you’re just visiting sooner than we anticipated.  Can’t say I’m upset at all.”  He moved some parts off of a stool and motioned toward it for her to sit.  “I should say sorry that you have to hunker down here. You definitely look like you were going somewhere a bit nicer.”

Marinette looked down at her outfit analytically, a blood red, long-sleeved blouse, black skinny jeans, and black heeled boots. She’d wanted to wear ladybug colors after the previous night in the Riddler’s facility and the Wayne dining room. Ladybug colors always reminded her of the strongest, most resilient parts of herself.  She looked back up at him, her eyes catching on the coat rack behind him.  “Excuse you. All I need is that jacked over there and I’d fit right in.  In fact, I’d match your baby.”

Roy looked to where she was looking, seeing his black leather jacket hanging up.  He blushed slightly at the idea of her wearing his jacket.  He could picture it on her, the jacket hanging loosely off of her significantly smaller frame, her clinging to him as they rode on his bike… He looked back at her with a soft look. “And you would still be too classy to be here.”

Marinette pouted at him.  “You say that like I don’t fit in.”  She didn’t want to say the ‘with you’ that was running through her head.  Did he think she wouldn’t fit with him?  “I can fit. I can even be helpful.”

Roy shook his head.  “No, not at all just…”  He motioned to his own clothes, an old tee, stained jeans, and a backwards ball cap that was just as stained with grease as his jeans, and then motioned to her.

Marinette looked between the two of them and grinned. “You underestimate my ability to get dirty.  Give me a few minutes and I’ll be as dirty as you.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to the wrench in his hand. Based on the complete lack of amusement or sultriness in her eyes, she did not at all realize what she just said. He took a few seconds, it may have been minutes, to calm his heart and mind.  “Okay, how about you prove it?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him.  “Prove what?”

“That you can be helpful.  Roll up those sleeves and help me with this engine.”  He motioned to the transmission on the workbench next to her.  “I can also get you some coveralls so your outfit won’t get dirty if you prefer.” He looked back at her with an amused glint in his eyes.  “They’ll be a bit big on you…”  Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but his eyes danced with even more amusement at her reaction.  “Since you’re so litt…”

“You know what…” she cut him off, standing to get in his personal space.  She stared up at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before her cheeks burst into color.  She looked away and cleared her throat.  After a second to recover, she motioned to the transmission as she rolled up her sleeves. “Just tell me what you’re doing and how I can help.”

Roy grinned and twirled the wrench in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.”  

He leaned over the transmission and started loosening one of the nuts holding the piece together.  His hand faltered for a fraction of a second when Marinette leaned next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath as she let out a sigh, close enough to feel her body heat.  Close enough he could easily wrap his arms around her and pull her against him.  He had to tighten his hands to keep them from reaching over.

He took a breath to focus.  Now was not the time.  She had just been kidnapped and people could take a bit of time to recover from something like that, especially considering the things she had said about having a breakdown.  He flicked his eyes over to her trying to assess how she was doing.  Her eyes were intently watching his hands as they moved around the transmission.  They were sharp and her body seemed to be relaxing the longer she watched him work.  If he didn’t know better, he’d never know she had been kidnapped and threatened the night before.

She looked up at him questioningly when his hands stilled as he analyzed her.  He gave her a small smile and motioned toward the tool box.  “Um… I need… Can you, um, get me the, um… 5/16th wrench, please?” he stuttered.

Marinette jumped up to search through the wrenches in the box.  She frowned, her lip jutting out as she searched.  “I don’t see it here.  Is there somewhere else it could be?”

Roy’s face scrunched as he tried to remember where else he might have used it.  He’d been working on the bike almost all day.  He looked back at the motorcycle trying to remember what he had done with it. He was broken from his concentration by Marinette’s light giggle.  He looked over to her with a raised brow.  

Marinette looked away quickly, another blush on her cheeks.  She followed where his line of sight had been and searched around the motorcycle, focusing her energy on her search for the wrench instead of the adorable face he made when he was concentrating and the way his nose wrinkled up in thought and his lips quirked to the side.  After a minute of looking she shook her head and held her empty hands out for him to see.

“Any other ideas?” she asked as she came back over to her stool.

Roy sighed deeply and scanned the workbench. He had a backup set of wrenches, but he knew he had used that one recently.  It couldn’t have gone too far. His attention was brought back to Marinette when she giggled again, her giggles turning into full blown laughter.  He gave her a confused look which made her laugh louder.  She reached over the workbench, almost climbing onto it to grab the wrench that was behind the transmission.  She held the wrench out to him triumphantly with a smug, teasing smile on her lips.

Roy fought choking on air at the sight of her climbing onto his workbench and all the images that immediately flooded into his mind involving that particular scenario, especially in his jacket… and nothing else.  He took the wrench, hoping she believed the blush he knew was on his cheek was from embarrassment rather than where his thoughts had gone.  “Thanks,” he managed to mutter out.

“Anytime,” she grinned back.  “See?” she motioned to herself.  “Helpful.”

Roy chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

Marinette chuckled and let her focus settle back on the part he was working on.  She watched his hands move effortlessly and confidently over the pieces.  “Flathead screwdriver,” he asked, holding out his hand for her.  She quickly grabbed one and slapped it in his hand like he was a surgeon.  He looked up at her with a grin.  “Thanks, nurse.”

Marinette shook her head and let her gaze pass over the garage bay.  She quirked her head to the side when her eyes settled on a bow leaning up against the wall by the door.  “What’s with the bow?”

Roy’s head jerked up.  His eyes immediately found his bow and quiver.  He looked back at her with an almost natural smile. “Oh, I just… like to shoot.”

“It’s yours?” she asked perking up.

“Yeah… I just pulled it out… recently.”  His eyes flicked to the cut on her cheek quickly before returning to the transmission.

Marinette looked back at the bow.  “That sounds fun.  I always wanted to learn.  How did you learn?”

Roy’s eyes took on a far off look and a sentimental smile spread on his lips.  “My father, my adopted father.”

“Oliver?” Marinette asked, confusion clear in her voice as she tried to reconcile the sentimental smile with his description in the bar.

“Ah, so you know,” Roy said quietly, eyes suddenly in focus and pointed at the transmission.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile.  “Sorry.  Damian… he um… thought I knew,” she stuttered out.  She really didn’t want to get into that conversation right now.  She was sure Roy would be upset and it was just something she wanted to leave between her and Damian, not someone else.  “He just mentioned it yesterday.”

Roy nodded and flicked his eyes up to her for a second, gauging her reaction, waiting for the questions.  There were always questions.  Questions about Oliver, questions about their relationship, questions about their money.  The exact combination might change but they were always there.  “Sorry for bringing it up,” she said quietly.

Roy shook his head, with a small smile.  “No.  It isn’t your fault.  No not Oliver.  It was before Oliver.  My birth father died saving me from a forest fire and a man named Brave Bow adopted me. He raised me.  He was a really good man.  He taught me how to be a good person and how to shoot… and just about everything else I know.”

The smile on Roy’s face made Marinette smile too. “He sounds like a good father.”

Roy nodded.  “He was,” he said quietly.  He looked over at her hesitantly before focusing back on the piece he was working on. “How are you feeling?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side.  “Feeling?  Not as useful as I could be.  A burden on you more than a help, if I’m being honest,” she shrugged.

Roy snorted.  “Sorry, I’ll try to get you to do more of my work for me.”  He sent her a smirk that got an eye roll out of her.  “And I would never call you a burden.  In fact, I’d fight to keep you nearby,” he added quietly, no longer meeting her eyes.  He tried to focus on the transmission but he could feel her eyes on him, making it impossible to think of anything else.  

After a few seconds he cleared his throat.  “I mean after,” he motioned toward her face, his hand still grasping the gear he had just removed.  “How are you handling it?  The Riddler’s no joke.”

Marinette scoffed and picked up a wrench.  She spun it in her hand as a distraction while she spoke.  “He really isn’t.  I didn’t find him funny at all.”  Roy gave her a flat look and returned to working on the part, letting her decide to continue discussing it or not.  “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“He broadcast it to all Gotham.  Everybody knows.  Everybody saw you deliver the verbal smack down of the century,” he grinned at her.  “It was inspiring.  You were amazing.”

“I was pissed is what I was,” she grumbled.  She looked away and sighed, running her hand over her face and grimacing when she accidentally touched her cut.  “I forgot everyone would see that.”

She stared at the wrench as she twirled it in her hands.  She knew the Waynes probably knew she was taken.  She’d called Jason to let him know she was fine, but had pretended she had to go talk to the police and cut the call short.  She really didn’t want to talk to them after the scene at dinner. She didn’t want to have the conversations she knew they were going to want to have.  She just wanted to move on.  It didn’t have anything to do with them, especially the kids.  It was her past, one they had no way of knowing about and no way of helping with.  There was no reason to hash through it all again.

But she hadn’t realized they would get to see the full video.  She frowned at the thought.  She’d said so much while she was yelling and she couldn’t remember what all she had said. It was a moment of weakness that now the entire city, possibly the world now knew about.  Thankfully she was positive she didn’t mention anything about the miraculous so to anyone watching she would have looked like any other normal, non-miraculous wielding person.

And on top of it all, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset that M. Wayne hadn’t reached out to see if she was alright. All of the kids had even Lucius had, but not him… or Alfred.  After the way she left, he might not feel like he’s allowed to.  But still… he hadn’t bothered to check on her at all.

She looked up with a weak smile.  “Guess I’ve truly experienced Gotham now.”

Roy grimaced.  “Sorry about that.”  He watched her as she seemed to work through her feelings on the matter, going from annoyed to hurt.  He returned his attention to the engine part.  “I think I need to start calling you Fire Flower.”

Marinette looked up at him curiously.  “Fire Flower?”

“Yeah,” he looked up briefly with a spark in his eyes. “It’s like a fire cracker, but cuter. More impressive to look at.” Marinette blushed and looked down, accidentally dropping the wrench she had been playing with.  Roy grinned widely at her before focusing back on his work. “You sure you feel safe?” he asked, still focusing on the engine.

Marinette nodded.  “I have Adrien and Max.  We might not look like we can protect ourselves, but we’re pretty good at it.” Actually incredibly well.  She was possibly the best protected person in the world right now, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that.

“I’m actually pretty surprised Adrien isn’t with you right now or Max.”  He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette nodded.  “You’re not wrong.  They would be but Max just started work and couldn’t really take a day off immediately and Adrien had a job interview in Metropolis today.  And this is the one he’s really excited about.  I was supposed to go with him and check out Metropolis, but then I wouldn’t have had anyone with me while he was in the interview and that made them a bit too nervous.  Here at least they know I have the bats following me at all times so, they were pretty confident I was safe.”

“The bats are keeping an eye on you, huh?” Roy asked with a secretive grin.

Marinette nodded.  “I’m not sure if they’re trying to be subtle, but yeah.  I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with the Waynes. They mentioned… the bats certainly act like they talk a lot and know each other well.”

Roy froze for a second.  Well, they certainly weren’t being as discrete as they normally are, it would seem.  Although after last night, he could imagine they were pretty flustered.  He had been and she was just an acquaintance to him. He wanted it to be more but… that wasn’t the point.  But at this rate, she was going to figure it out before they told her and he didn’t imagine that going well for them.  “So you’ve caught them a few times?”

“Caught is a liberal term for it.  Is it catching if they aren’t really hiding?  I think Red Robin might have been trying… maybe, but Batman was on our balcony, standing vigil all night last night.”

Roy glanced over for a second.  “Batman was watching over your apartment last night?”

Marinette nodded.  “Markov said he was there until Red Robin took over some time around breakfast.”

Roy paused for a few seconds then tapped the screwdriver against the workbench.  “And… Bruce? Did Bruce check in on you?”

Marinette looked away and licked her lips before pursing them.  She twisted the wrench around a few more times, focusing entirely on that, not meeting Roy’s eyes.  “No,” she finally said in a falsely calm voice.  “I… I didn’t…  Dinner didn’t go so well.”

Roy moved closer to her until he was close enough to reach her comfortably but still gave her space so he wasn’t crowding her. He ducked his head to try to meet her eyes.  She yielded quickly and met his eyes.  “He’s worried about you.  I guarantee you he is.  He’s just… shit at emotions and reading a room.  

“If you guys fought, I promise you he isn’t less worried about you, he’s just afraid that seeing him or hearing from him will upset you more.  I promise you he’s finding out everything he can about how you are from anyone that will tell him.  He cares. Your fight didn’t push him away. He’s just a fucking idiot.  And an asshole, so there’s like a 97% chance if you did fight, it was his fault.  And he probably knows that, just not how to make it up to you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh despite her eyes suddenly turning glassy. “I don’t need him to make it up, just… it’s not even his fault.  It was mine really.”  She fiddled with the wrench in her hands, testing the strength, trying to bend it, focusing on that as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I doubt it.”  He sighed and readjusted his cap as he tried to come up with the right words.  “I’ve found that when bad things happen at the manor it’s almost always because Bruce was being a controlling little bitch.”  Instead of laughing, she frowned at the wrench. Right, calling her father, she’s trying to connect to a ‘controlling little bitch’ probably isn’t really helping. He sighed and looked back up trying to figure out how to remove the frown.  It didn’t look right on her face.  She should be smiling.  Always. “Do you want a hug?”

Marinette finally looked up from the wrench in surprise.  After a second she gave him a weak smile and shook her head, returning her focus to the wrench.  “I’m fine.”

Roy lightly placed his hand on the wrench to stop its motion. “That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.

She blinked at him a few times before a smirk quirked her lips up. “I mean… I’m not going to object to a handsome man wrapping his arms around me,” she answered slyly, throwing his words from days earlier back at him.  Roy grinned and wrapped his arms around her, gently at first but holding her tighter as the hug went on.  His arms were strong and reassuring, giving a sense of warmth and safety and Marinette quickly found herself melting into his embrace.  She nuzzled into his chest and dear God, she could feel his muscles moving through his shirt with every minute movement.

She tried to hide her frown when he pulled away after a few minutes. But, it turned into a smile when he stopped after a few inches, just enough to look down at her.  Roy smiled softly and rubbed her cheek with his thumb a few times.  Marinette leaned into his hand, captivated by the feel of his hand on her face.  He started to lean down but jumped away with the sound of clattering right next to them.  Roy moved in front of her, caging her in behind him as he looked for the source of the sound.

Marinette grimaced and leaned down to pick up the wrench that had slipped through her fingers when she was looking at Roy.  He chuckled awkwardly and moved back to his transmission. He started working on it again a lot slower than he had been before.  His hands were shaking slightly.  He could still feel the traces of her on his fingers and around his chest, trilling through him.  “Can you… um… the.  Can you hand me the Phillips head, please?” he stuttered, unable to get his mind settled.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, her cheeks still bright red, as her mind tried to kick back into gear.  She looked at the tools in the toolbox and back to him. “Is… that’s a tool, not like a horror movie thing, right?”

Roy blinked a few times before breaking out in laughter.  Marinette smiled at his laughter, beyond grateful for the change of topic.  “The one with the cross for a head,” he said motioning toward the screwdrivers.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded in understanding. “Tournevis cruciform,” she muttered to herself as she searched through the tools for the right screwdriver. “Americans and their naming things.”

Roy grinned at her outrage.  “And what do you call it?  The cross screwdriver.” he teased.

“That is literally what it translates to,” she deadpanned.

Roy puckered his lips in an attempt at keeping a smile off his lips and make his annoyed wrinkled brow more believable.  “Oh, well I bow to your superior naming capabilities,” he snarked with a fake bow.

Marinette nodded graciously and passed the screwdriver to him.  “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Roy laughed and returned to the transmission, pretending like he could focus on that instead of the kiss they almost had. Marinette watched, almost transfixed as he moved the gears synchronously on the transmission, creating intricate and ever changing patterns.  She pulled her sketchbook and pencil out to capture a sudden idea.

“The wrench?” Roy called out, not looking up from the transmission.  He held out his hand and waited for a few seconds before adding, “Please?”  He waited a little longer before repeating it a bit louder.  “Wrench, please?”  He finally looked up when she still hadn’t handed it to him.  “Marinette?”  He looked over to her concerned.  His face immediately softened when he saw her.

Marinette’s face was frozen in intense concentration on her sketchbook as she drew confidently and without hesitation.  She held the sketchbook out and tilted it slightly. She narrowed her eyes at it and tilted it a different way.  Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk before she added in more details and notes. Her eyes lit up with inspiration, bright and clear.  She shook her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands too busy committing her inspiration to paper to waste time with such trivialities.  Roy shook his head, mentally berating himself for having backed off before.  She had been right there and leaning toward him.  Maybe Jason and Dick… and Tim and Damian, were right.  He was an idiot.

Before Roy realized what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck it behind her ear, being careful to avoid her cut as his fingers brushed her face.  Marinette jumped at the unexpected contact.  She looked up at him wide eyed but a sheepish look quickly overtook her expression. She looked down in embarrassment, but that only pressed her face further into Roy’s hand, which made her embarrassed blush deepen but not due to embarrassment this time.  “Sorry.  Did you need a tool?”

Roy shook his head.  He smiled and moved his hand slightly so it was cupping her face this time.  “It’s fine. I was enjoying watching you get caught up in inspiration.”

Marinette looked down again and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.  It is probably the most embarrassing face.”

Roy smiled softly at her, his eyes shining with sincerity and fondness.  “No. It wasn’t.  It was cute.”  He took a step closer to her and leaned a bit closer, more intimately.  “I wouldn’t mind seeing it more.”

“More of my too distracted to pay attention to you face?” she smirked and leaned closer to him.

“Any version of your face you’ll let me see. Although I would prefer to see it with fewer cuts,” he frowned at the cut on her cheek as he rubbed a soothing line just below the bruise that had formed around the cut.  He leaned closer to examine the cut until his lips were centimeters from her cheek.  He flicked his eyes to her half lidded ones and leaned to close the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Dick boomed as he came into the room. Marinette and Roy jumped apart, or rather Roy jumped away and Marinette straightened up on the stool, grabbing the workbench to keep from falling off.  “Sorry I’m late.  And sorry I’m here instead of Jason.  He got… caught up in the attack.  Not personally!” he rushed to assure Marinette when her eyes widened and body stiffened.  “I meant he’s dealing with the fallout.  Jason is fine.  He’d just be really, really late and asked if I could come over here instead.  If that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded, but her eyes were still slightly widened.  “Of course. But you’re sure Jason’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Dick shot her a charming smile.  “He’s just going to need a bit of time to deal with things,” he lied smoothly.  He looked between Marinette and Roy with narrowed eyes and moved between them as he hugged Marinette.  “He really, really wanted to be here with you today.  I think he’s planning on attaching himself to you tomorrow though.”

Marinette chuckled lightly.  “That’s okay.  We’ll have fun doing something.”  Her face suddenly sobered.  “Oh, no, wait.  I have lunch with Duke and Cass tomorrow.  I mean… I think I have lunch with them.  We had planned it, but that was before…” she trailed off, not wanting to go into detail at all, but especially in front of Roy.

“I’m sure you still do,” Dick assured her.  “They’re probably just waiting to get confirmation from you in case the last few days were a bit much and you wanted a break.”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed.  “No.  I’ll text them.  Thanks.”

“But I get you for tonight.  How do you feel about a movie marathon?” he grinned widely, already planning a full night’s marathon with her, Adrien, and Max.  She had to love Disney movies, right?  Who didn’t love Disney movies?

“I like movies,” Roy chirped with a teasing grin.

“No,” he answered sharply.  He turned back to Marinette with a mock sympathetic smile. “You must have been so bored here.”

Roy narrowed his eyes back at him but Marinette jumped up to defend Roy.  “Not at all. It was interesting watching him working on the bike.  I got some good inspiration too.”

Roy raised a pointed eyebrow at him with a smug grin.  “Motorcycles remind her of her grandmother.”

Dick looked back at Marinette who was looking back at Roy with a surprised expression.  “Good memory.”

“I remember important things,” he shrugged.

Dick glared at him.  “Uh huh.  But not to check if things are loaded.”  He looked back at Marinette.  “You’ve got something just there,” he motioned to the cheek Roy had stroked earlier. “You might want to get that grease off.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed grabbing her cheek, almost succeeding in covering the blush that flushed on her cheeks.  “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Roy nodded and motioned toward the bathroom. “Just right over there.”

As soon as the door closed, Dick punched Roy’s shoulder.  Roy frowned at him.  “What?”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dick hissed and motioned toward the bathroom.

“What?” Roy answered rubbing his shoulder.  At least it was just Dick.  If it was Jason, he’d be rubbing his jaw right now.  “Tim dropped her off here.  What was I supposed to do?  Ignore her?”

“You were supposed to not hit on her,” he grumbled.

“That’s just unreasonable,” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned back against the workbench.  He motioned to the bathroom.  “Have you met her? She’s smart and sassy and really sweet.  She's funny and obviously gorgeous.  Who doesn’t want to hit on her?”

“Yeah.  I’ve met her. Didn’t hit on her.” Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Jesus, Roy!  I’ve had her as a sister for like a week.  I don’t want to lose her because I’m in jail for killing you.”

“You’re her brother, you don’t count in the hitting on her count.  And please,” Roy scoffed, “you’re too good to go to jail for it.”

“True.  Just…” he narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him threateningly, “if you mess around and hurt her… I’ll choose her over you.  And I won’t forget to load the magazines and Jason will be more than happy to use them.”

“That’s hurtful,” Roy groused.  “One time.  I forgot to load the magazines one time.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a mission!” Dick whisper hissed.

“You survived,” Roy shrugged.  “Stop being such a baby.  But I get it.  I’d choose her over me too.  Or you. But if you were going to kill anyone for hurting her, Riddler wouldn’t still be alive… or Bruce.”

Dick pursed his lips at the reminder of how Bruce had treated Marinette, of everything that had come up the night before. His anger quickly deflating.  He looked toward the bathroom, his eyes softening. They really needed to work harder to support her, to assure her they weren’t holding her at arm’s length. Maybe talk to Bruce about telling her the truth.  That seemed like the only possible way to salvage this.  “How does she seem to be doing?”

Roy shrugged and watched the bathroom door to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on the conversation.  “Actually doesn’t seem too bothered by the Riddler incident.  She’s more anxious about the family knowing.” He pursed his lips and picked up a transmission piece, pretending to examine it.  “Bruce hasn’t said anything or made any attempts as far as she knows.”

Dick sighed and massaged his temples.  “That should surprise me more than it does.” He let out a heavy sigh.  “Last night… dinner didn’t… some things came out that Bruce didn’t know.  Things she had to go through.  He’s beating himself up over it.  Too ashamed to talk to her.”

Roy sighed and shook his head.  Bruce was going to lose her before he even had her at this point.  “That have anything to do with why she’s so unaffected by having been taken captive by one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham?” Dick’s resigned sigh was enough confirmation for him.  “Fuck,” he grumbled.  “She thinks it’s her fault he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore.”

“Damn it,” Dick grumbled, drawing out the words in frustration.  He ran his hand over his face and collapsed on the stool she had been on earlier.  “Good to know.  Thanks.”

Roy nodded and threw the part back on the workbench.  “How’s Jay doing?”

“He’ll be okay.  Tim got there in time to stop him from going too far, but he’s going to need a few hours, maybe the night to let the Pit Madness recede.  And I think he’s really nervous about showing any part of that to Marinette.”

They both snapped their attention to Marinette when she came back.  “My cheek look better?” she turned her cheek for them to see.  “I mean obviously not the cut.”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.”  Roy assured her and handed her purse to her.  

Dick glared at Roy.  “Could you stop hitting on my sister for five seconds?” he hissed low enough for Marinette not to hear.  He turned to Marinette before Roy could respond.  “Ready to go?  I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Dick walked ahead of her, pretending like he didn’t notice her lag behind. When he was almost out the door, she turned to Roy and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you for babysitting me today and for the tour the other day.  I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Roy nodded and handed her his phone with a spot for Fire Flower already started in his contacts.  “If your plans ever get canceled again or you need to hide out or you need to borrow a jacket so you fit in, give me a call, Fire Flower.”

Marinette put her number in and passed it back to him with a grin.  “You have extra you can just loan out?”

Roy grinned back and nodded.  “A few jackets, suit coats, shirts, ties, clean pants, even a few pairs of coveralls, none of which would fit you, but if you ever need them… Or even if you don’t need anything, just want to talk or hang out, let me know.”

“Marinette!  I thought you were ready to go?” Dick yelled.

Marinette shook her head and sighed.  She waved to Roy as she rushed out.  “Thanks again!”

Roy watched her leave until he couldn’t see her anymore.  He let out a deep sigh and collapsed against the workbench. He looked at his phone and quickly sent a text with a smile.

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#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #prompt - no miraculous au #this is the last chapter I have written already so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out #mbdbwm2021

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, 382

 “Slow down!” exclaimed Iris.  “Turn left just up ahead.”

 I nodded and complied.  She knew where her boss lived better than any of us, having never visited this suburb befored.  I probably would have missed the break in the endless fence had she not warned me, especially when I was trying to guess the cost of having a large amount of land next to a park in a pricey suburb.  To my surprise, the gate opened for us immediately.

 “He doesn’t care much for security, does he?” I teased, looking around to see if there was some sort of guard who would have opened the gate for us.

 “Mila watches everything, so there’s no need.  There are sensors and cameras all over the yard that let her know if anything is disturbed.” explained Iris matter-of-factly.

 I nodded, but my eyes were locked on our destination in the distance, barely visible through all of the rain.  I had considerably underestimated the size of this place.  I very much doubted that I could even afford to maintain the yard for very many years and could only guess that the property tax had to be immense.

 As my sons grew excited about the bushes, I looked over and stared for several seconds.  Every single bush along the long driveway had been carefully sculpted into characters that I recognized from video games my kids enjoyed.  I could only imagine the amount of time and number of people involved in such artwork, leading me to believe James spent even more on his yard annually than I originally had guessed.  Even the fountain—an immense, two-story affair that was very elaborately sculpted—was immaculate, showing no signs of wear or neglect.  James certainly knew how to make an impression.

 When we stepped inside, passing past two sets of double doors that opened for us, James was descending down one of the staircases which curved up to a balcony on the second floor.  “James!  Thank you for having us.  This is quite a place you’ve got here.  Sorry if we brought the storm.” I told him, gesturing to the weather outside.

 “There’s plenty to see.” he politely agreed.  “Thank you for accepting the invitation.  I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more about my company than most, since you seemed curious during the game.  Mick was supposed to stop by a while ago but apparently didn’t get the time.”

 “This place is awesome!” exclaimed Matt.

 “Sorry, James.” muttered Mick.

 “No need to apologize.  We’ll just review with your family today what I wanted to tell you before.” replied James, smiling at us.

 I suddenly found myself floating as a soft breeze blew at me from inside the mansion.  Looking to my sides, I saw that my family, save for my daughter, were also floating.

 Before I could do more than exclaim in surprise, James spoke up, telling us, “Magic is real, and your family can use it.”

 I stared at them, my mind trying to figure out how he was doing this.  Was this some elaborate prank using a new technology?  “Wh-What…” was all I managed to say before we were gently lowered to the ground.

 “You wanted to know what I was feeding my employees.  I train them physically, mentally, and in magical arts.  We didn’t use spells at the baseball game, but we have numerous advantages that are completely unfair.” explained James.  “For example, I can physically lift your family’s van, though using spells is easier to ensure I don’t compromise the frame.”

 I swore, feeling like I had been had, before my better judgement kicked in.  My family was currently at this boy’s mercy.

 James’ smile broadened as he said, “If you don’t mind coming out back, I’ll ask the wonderful gardener to demonstrate something people tend to grasp more easily.”  Not hearing any argument from us, he motioned for us to follow him and started telling us  “Mirabella and Mike can’t create the electrical discharges like the rest of you.  She has a different heritage, and Mike took after his mother.”

 “How could you possibly know that?” asked Mike in surprise.

 “My secretary ran a background check on Iris prior to her being hired, and she’s so thorough that I feel like she knows everything.  You wouldn’t believe how long she takes to brief me on things.” explained James as he glanced back at my son.  “My concern with Mick is that he and Iris tended to play games with their ability, which caught enough notice for my secretary to file it in the report.  There are some out there who prey on those with abilities such as yours, so being a little more cautious tends to be wise.”

 That sounded far too believable.  I probably should have chewed those two out more often, but I had never believed anyone would have noticed their antics.  “You claim you can lift cars, and you can obviously lift us.  What else can you do, James?” I asked, wanting a firmer handle on whom I was dealing with.

 “So many things, Dad.  James is like a wizard combined with an overly strong fighter from some fantasy novel.” insisted Iris from behind me.

 I glanced back at her, surprised at how serious she looked.

 “I’ve also learned to make a great cup of tea.  My wife can be picky.” insisted James.

 “What’s that smell..?” questioned Mike longingly.

 Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t recognize the smell either, though I was certain it was food.  My mouth was already watering.

 “We’re almost to the kitchen, and Marco’s making you quite the treat.  I’m sure he won’t mind us passing through.  Just be prepared for a few samples.” encouraged James.

 The kitchen was as large as was fitting a house this size, and even there the fanciful engravings didn’t yield.  Every cabinet was beautifully carved, as were the very large table and chairs.

 Marco, the chef, was extraordinarily eager for us to sample “a few things” before we moved onward, despite assuring us that dinner would be ready soon.  Only when James pointed out there was more for us to see before dinner did Marco give way, giving us permission to pass through his kitchen into the garden beyond.

 The rain didn’t reach us as we followed James outside, hitting some invisible barrier and sliding away.

 “I don’t suppose you worry about getting struck by lightning.” I commented as I watched the sky.

 “Worried, no, but I didn’t find that to be pleasant either.” he told me sincerely.

 I stared at him, my eyes searching for any sign that he had ever been struck, but I found nothing, save for how confident he seemed.  

 “If your magic were stronger, you’d actually be able to guide a lightning bolt around you.  Iris has practiced enough that she could knock an assailant down with just the shock.” he commented, making me glance back at my daughter.

 “You can?” questioned Mick excitedly.

 She nodded, grinned, and said, “Yep, though I could take you in a fight without one.”  

 “All trained up now, are you?” questioned Mark, my eldest son.

 Iris laughed, shaking her head.  “You wouldn’t believe the standards here.”

 “I take it that James is the strongest, being the boss.” suggested Mike.

 James shook his head and said, “Not even close.”  Then he pointed to a fortress in the distance and asked “Do you see the keep over there?”

 I nodded along with a couple of my sons.

 “The strongest best friend created that with a stray thought.” claimed James.

 “What!?  No way!” exclaimed Mike.

 Nodding, James said, “She showed up in my office to tell me that she ‘oopsed’ a second after.  She’s been training recently to avoid that type of mistake.  I imagine she’ll be capable of creating a large city in a day on a whim within a few years.  I’d probably spend at least a week on a small town, and that’s if I collected the resources ahead of time.”

 I found the idea mind-boggling.  James seemed humble as he claimed that he could create a small town in a week.

 “You’d take at least a month, man-sla-... er… boss?” announced Emma, turning the statement into a question at the end.  “You get too distracted.  I could handle a village in an hour!”  She was soaked, but grinning.

 Before my eyes, the water soaking her clothes drifted away to join the rain outside.

 “Emma, I’m sure you remember Iris’ father, Grayson.  This is her mother, Mirabella.  From oldest to youngest, her brothers are Mark, Mick, Mike, and Matt.  Everyone, this is my gardener, Emma.”

 “Shouldn’t I be your favorite gardener?” she asked teasingly.

 “Sure.” he conceded.

 “Hear that?  I’m his favorite!” she exclaimed proudly.

 “Do you create villages with a stray thought?” questioned Mike.

 “Nah.  I do this.” she replied, watching us all.  After a couple seconds, wooden buildings rose out of the ground between the garden and the keep.

 “Mine would have functional electricity, plumbing, and the other luxuries people expect these days.” argued James with a smile.

 She stuck her tongue out at him.  Then she said, “My plumbing would work if I created a water tower.  Plants can be very good at guiding water.  As for electricity, I’ve been talking with Jarod about ways to generate a current with plants.  We have plans and stuff!”

 “You mean he had a crazy idea and chatted your ear off.” suggested James.

 “I thought the idea was cool and agreed to try eventually!” she insisted.

 “The idea was actually Maxine’s.  She has some experience with bioengineering from when she considered creating a cyborg army.” corrected Mila, who had discretely joined us without me noticing.

 “You can create cyborgs!?’ questioned Matt excitedly.

 “There has been some tech created here which could be used toward that end, but we’re not experimenting on people.” explained James.

 “I didn’t know you were in the tech industry.” commented my wife.

 James smiled at her and diplomatically told her “My company dabbles in many things to help prepare our best friends for a very large variety of jobs.”

 Grinning, Emma said, “He means to say ‘Yes.  Yes, we are.’  Mua ha ha ha ha!”  She drummed her fingers together while obviously attempting to look like some comic book villain.

James sighed and said, “Emma, mind getting rid of your starter village and showing the Storms how you help the kitchen?”

 “Fiiiine,” she begrudgingly told him, “but I might use some buildings to compliment the topiary when I change things up again.”

 “Sounds fun.” he agreed.

 From there, she started demonstrating how she could make the plants grow, revert to seeds, or provide as much food as she wanted.  She could also force plants to grow beyond their normal proportions and control them as easily as she controlled her own limbs, which led her into demonstrating how she had produced the bats her team had used for our baseball game.  Before she seemed remotely ready to quit demonstrating her abilities, Mila announced that food was ready.

 Instead of eating at the long table in the kitchen, we were taken to a large dining hall with an even more elaborate table.  There were already carts of food waiting nearby, and Mila urged us to help ourselves, since no one here would hesitate when they arrived.

 As we ate, we were entertained with more demonstrations of magic from those who had joined us.  James’ wife, Alma, created elaborate displays of fire and ice.  Ai and Mai created a sort of play with tiny figures made of water acting out their parts just above the table.  Jemal fetched more food for the particularly hungry using nothing but his magic, causing whatever was requested to float through the air.  James himself demonstrated illusions, making us see whatever he wanted while assuring us the magic the others had used was real.  Whether because I had felt myself being lifted earlier or because he had no reason to lie, I believed him.  Iris’ boss was the most interesting, and perhaps the most dangerous, man I had ever met.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

[alby-rei]

Paint My World in Shades of You (Vincent x MC)

a/n: Happy birthday Vincent <3 

[Characters]: MC, Vincent, Theo

[Genre]: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

[Warning]: None

{Paint my World in Shades of You}

I was sitting in Vincent’s room on his couch while he painted. His eyes were trained on the beautiful arrangement of flowers that rested against the window.

My eyes were trained on him; I was obsessed with his side profile. I loved the way his eyes shone with concentration, and his jaw relaxed and tensed as he worked. Suddenly, his serious expression lit up in laughter.

“When you look at me like that, I can’t help but lose focus.”

“Ah—I’m so sorry! I just—” My face heated up considerably, I must be a roasted tomato by now, “I really like watching you paint. It fascinates me so much how you create such wonderful paintings, and I was… taking mental notes of your technique,” and your face, and your arms, and your fingers, and-

“Have you painted, too, in your time?”

“Mmhm,” I nodded with enthusiasm, “though I’m still very much a beginner. I enjoy painting with a friend more than I do when I’m alone.”

“Oh?” Vincent set his palette down and faced me fully, “I can get you a canvas if you want to paint with me.”

“Right now?? I mean I’ve never worked with oil paints before… just acrylic and watercolor.”

Vincent rummaged through his supplies behind his desk, taking out a case full of paint tubes.

“I’ve got watercolors right here,” he shot me an excited smile, and my heart fluttered. How was I so lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend?

I wasn’t used to painting on large canvases— though it was still small compared to his— so I felt pretty intimidated just staring at the blank white abyss in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t know where to start,” I looked back at him sheepishly.

I waved my paint-less brush on the canvas, shifting my gaze between the flower bouquet and the canvas to make a mental sketch. I caught sight of Vincent’s work in progress, and I had an idea.

“Hey Vincent, do you mind if I… copy you?”

“Hm?” He quirked his head to the side. 

“I want to learn how to paint like you, that’s how I’ve always learned actually— by watching others.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered uncharacteristically. His gaze softened, as a small blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked back at his own unfinished work.

“Well, if that’s what you want to do, then I’m all for it.”

“Yay!” I clapped my hands in excitement. 

Vincent didn’t have an extra easel, so he suggested I use his. But I insisted that I can work without one. I brought a stool and dragged it close to his and started watching his every move.

“So first, I mixed these colors…” he stretched his arm out to display his color palette. It was a beautiful mess of oil paints, with a large white spot in one corner.

Time flew as we enjoyed the moment in each other’s company doing what we both love. 

“I’m not sure how to make this shade…” I pouted, staring at my messy palette.  

“The trick is to get a bit of ochre yellow in the mix, and then…”            

We talked on and on as we painted together. I tried to keep my focus on the bouquet, but I always ended up leaning over to see Vincent’s own painting.

“Your painting should capture how you­ see the world, MC.”

“I know… but I can’t get it to stand out the same way yours does,” I confessed. 

Vincent’s soft laughter eased my anxiety. I mixed some colors together blindly to try to create the right shade I’m looking for.

“Hey! That’s a great shade of purple you got. How did you make it?” He asked me with child-like curiosity and excitement.

I told him honestly that I didn’t know how, and we sat and experimented together. In a way, it gave me a confidence boost to see him try so hard to replicate the shade that I accidentally made. 

Clearly, I had lost track of time because the sun was gone, and the lamp in Vincent’s room was the only source of light left. I didn’t even notice the change, so when I looked up from my work, I had to rub my eyes to adjust.

“Oh boy, I didn’t realize I was so focused. I think I got a small headache…” I brought a hand up to apply pressure on my forehead.

“Are you ok, MC?” Instantly, Vincent was by my side, one hand caressing my arm as I sat on his couch to regain my bearings.

It took a second, but the world stopped spinning. I took a deep breath and looked up, smiling to reassure Vincent. Worry was written all over his face, bordering guilt.

“Don’t look so down, Vinnie~ It’s nothing serious,” I giggled, scratching the back of my head.

I looked between my canvas and his. I was really proud of how it turned out! His painting definitely had better defined lines and clearer contrasts in all the right places. Mine was less impressive in my eyes, but still a full image of the bouquet, no less.

“What do you think of my painting?” I nodded towards my canvas.

“It’s beautiful just like its artist,” he brought my paint-stained hand up to his lips and gently kissed my knuckles.

“Oh you…!” I punched him jokingly with my free hand.

“Mm… I meant it,” he laughed along, shielding his arm from further assault, “I’m a lucky man to be able to share my passion with my sweetheart.”

“Vincent, you’re too sweet.” I wrapped my arms around him, hiding my tomato-red face in his chest.

I felt his arms wrap around me, too, and we sat there in comfortable silence. The smell of oil paints and flowers wafted in the air around us, as his arms squeezed me securely. It was like we were left in our own bubble and time itself had stopped for us to enjoy this moment. I pulled away eventually, needing to wash my hands and help Sebastian with dinner. Looking outside again, I realized I was already late… woops.

“I have to go prepare dinner with Sebas soon, so I’ll see you later?”

I reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head and captured my lips with his. How am I supposed to say goodbye like this? The thought of leaving this room, this bubble of ours, felt like I was leaving a paradise behind.

“Don’t go just yet…” He pleaded with his eyes shimmering under the glow of the lone lamp.

“How about this: I’ll go wash my hands, then come back to clean up with you. Then, we’ll walk together to the kitchen, deal?”

He nodded, “Deal.”

I went to the guest bathroom room across the hallway. Paint was a lot harder to wash off than I thought. I scrubbed at it with soap, making sure not to damage my skin in the process.

It took a solid while, so I hurriedly dried my hands and made my way back to Vincent’s room. I was standing outside when I heard—

“…and what do we have here?” A chuckle, “Were you teaching a kid how to paint?” It was Theo.

Theo and I… didn’t get along. Maybe our humor just didn’t align, maybe he didn’t appreciate walking in on us that one time when he… shouldn’t have. And maybe I was too sensitive for his bluntness. But we made an unspoken truce to avoid conflict with each other for Vincent’s sake. At least, I thought we did. 

Before Vincent got a chance to speak, Theo was already inspecting the foreign painting in art-dealer mode. 

“Hmm… the colors are dull, and the strokes are uneven. If they thought they could imitate you, they’ve clearly got a long way to go,” he scoffed.

“Theo, that’s not—”

“And who asked you, huh?” I couldn’t stand aside and let him talk about me or my painting like that. It meant a lot to me; it embodied my precious time with Vincent.

“So the pup wanted to paint, eh? I guess I shouldn’t have expected much, then.”

I was about to give him an earful, but Vincent stepped in.

“That’s enough, Theo! MC and I painted this together. So, if you think it looks like a child’s work, then you’re saying that about me, too.”

“What…? No! I didn’t mean—” He shook his head, choosing to stare at the wall instead. He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I’m sorry I said those things, hondje. I didn’t mean to upset you.”      

Well, that was fast. At least he’s being civil about it.

“I-it’s fine… I’m just an amateur anyway,” I hugged my arms, looking away as I tried to calm myself. I was shaking, whether it was from anger or embarrasment, I didn’t know.

The silence was killing me, so I made to start tidying up my station. I blinked away the oncoming tears—I had nothing to cry about! I enjoyed painting with my boyfriend, and Theo apologized.

So, I kept blinking. Discretely.

Or at least as discretely as I thought I was.

Theo dropped the supplies he brought in for Vincent, talked to him for a bit, and left. I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. 

“MC…”

Vincent’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. I sensed the guilt rising in his voice, so I rushed back to hug him in reassurance.

“…don’t worry, Vinnie,” I nuzzled my head into his chest, not realizing my tears had spilled onto his apron, “it’s not like I’m a professional artist anyway, he was just stating his opinion.”

His strong arms wrapped around me firmly, rocking me back and forth as he spoke.

“You are an artist just like me, with your own unique view. That, in itself, is a valuable treasure that no one can take from you,” he pulled away to stare into my tear-streaked eyes with his own saddened cerulean eyes.

Then he smiled gently, soothingly, “Art isn’t about perfection, it’s about self-expression… about sharing your world on a canvas. Today, you shared a piece of your world on my canvas, and it is my greatest honor.”

I was speechless, I couldn’t find the words to express the pride, the elation, the utter admiration I had for Vincent and his ability to always say the right things to cheer me up.

“…Thank you, Vincent. I-I really appreciate it,” I smiled brightly up to him, and my tears flowed freely down my cheeks.

He brought his right hand up to wipe away the tears, using his thumb to caress the side of my face. Try as I might, I couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough before they spilled silently down my face. I wasn’t mad, or sad even. I was just really extremely happy. It’s hard for me to explain though, and Vincent held my face in his strong hands and kissed every tear as they fell.

“We should do this again,” he declared, his hold on me never faltering, “I want to display your paintings all over my room until every part of it is immersed in the world you create.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY VINCENT #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #vincent x mc #ikemen vampire vincent #Birthday fic #best boy #also FIGHT ME THEO #side note: I don't hate Theo #I just think we'd butt heads all the time xD #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire theo #alby one-shots

[rosesloveletters]

As we approach the anniversary of Heath Ledger’s passing, I would like to use my platform to discuss a few things I find increasingly important that we, as fans, keep in mind: Do NOT mock his death. Do NOT harass his family, friends, etc. (don’t ever do this, but especially not this week or the day of.) Do NOT use his death to signify your online presence. Those of us who appreciate this hard-working, loving, giving soul deserve the freedom of expression granted to us, given that we remain within the bounds of positivity, consideration for others and for Heath Ledger himself. 

(image: Heath photographed for The West Australian on June 9th, 2001.)

I implore you to treat everyone with respect and to honor Heath in a way in which you would honor a loved one; be kind, courteous, respectful and tactful whenever you are discussing his passing and remain conscious of others and their feelings regarding this subject. It is a subject of sensitivity for many and I ask that you consider how others might feel when approached with the topic. Do NOT pass around photos of him that the paparazzi took on that fateful day. This is a blatant disregard for Heath and his privacy; He was unable to consent to having those photos taken, for obvious reasons, and I am certain that he would not have consented, given his distaste for the paparazzi and having felt as though his life was ‘on display’. 

Remember to treat him and others with respect. It is the bare minimum of common courtesy when dealing with such a raw topic; Heath would be honored by how most choose to remember him and I think that he would be humbled by the legacy he’s left behind.

On another, more important note, we must to remember a few things regarding the late Heath Ledger: 

He did not die because of his role as The Joker in ‘The Dark Knight’. 

He did NOT die of a suicide. 

Heath was struggling with insomnia, illness, his break-up with Michelle and (presumably) depression (though I don’t believe that was ever officially confirmed) at the time of his passing and we must remember how sensitive a subject this is, for his family, loved ones, friends and fans alike. 

For more factual information on his passing, I recommend visiting these links provided: 

Friends and Family Remember His Final Weeks 

Some important quotes from this article to take into consideration: 

“Gerry Grennell, Ledger’s friend and dialect coach who lived and worked with the star while he was shooting The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus in the final weeks of his life, spoke with PEOPLE in 2017 for a cover story on Ledger, nine years after the actor’s death. He recalled his friend being “exhausted, emotionally and physically” while battling a lingering pneumonia-type illness.”

“Grennell said the star’s mood was low. “He missed his girl, he missed his family, he missed his little girl — he desperately wanted to see her and hold her and play with her,” he added, referring to Ledger’s former girlfriend Michelle Williams and their then-2-year-old daughter, Matilda. “He was desperately unhappy, desperately sad.””

But in his final weeks, Grennell said Ledger knew he was spiraling. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from taking the pills. “He said, ‘I got to stop, it’s not helping, I’m not well, it’s making me feel more upset,’” Grennell continued. “It wasn’t helping with the relationship issues, it wasn’t helping with missing his kid, it wasn’t helping his sleeping — and he knew that.”

“Being such a social guy, having to be a bit of a hermit, or wear hats and glasses was super annoying,” he added, describing the lengths to which Ledger went to avoid the paparazzi. “His happiest I remember was times like when we were in Bondi on the beach catching waves, and nobody really looking his way, and when he moved to Brooklyn and could walk around with nobody bothering him.”

Heath Ledger’s Father Kim Speaks of Son’s Death - Trigger Warning: Kim Ledger mentions seeing EMS removing Heath’s body from his home in new York. This video and its message is EXTREMELY important; if you choose to view no other material listed here, please watch this short interview. 

Statements Made by Heath Ledger’s Sisters

Heath Ledger’s Sisters Clear Up Rumors About His Death In New Documentary

Some important quotes from this article to take into consideration: 

Though the doc doesn't elaborate on the "demons" that plagued Ledger's final days, it does change the narrative about his mental state at that time. According to the actor's family, Ledger's role in The Dark Knight didn't depress him, as so many tabloids had reported. It energized him."It was coming out that he was depressed and it was taking a toll, and we were going, 'What?'" Bell said. "It was the absolute opposite," Kate Ledger added. "He had an amazing sense of humor, and I guess only his close family and friends really knew that. But he was having fun. He wasn’t depressed about The Joker."

That's about as far as the film delves into Ledger's death. Instead, I Am Heath Ledger chooses to focus on his life. It may not be a complete picture of the actor, but after nearly a decade of rampant rumors and tabloid gossip, it's nice to see Heath through his own lens.

Speculation into Heath’s passing has been vast, leaving much to the media to exaggerate and perpetuate; there is very little evidence or proof that lends to the fact that Heath was an ‘addict’ as has been portrayed, however this statement can be found on his Wikipedia page: 

“Ledger was "widely reported to have struggled with substance abuse.” Following Ledger's death, Entertainment Tonight aired video footage from 2006 in which Ledger stated that he "'used to smoke five joints a day for 20 years” and news outlets reported that his drug abuse had prompted Williams to request that he move out of their apartment in Brooklyn. Ledger's publicist asserted that some reportage regarding Ledger and drugs had been inaccurate.”

When discussing his death, please keep in mind that a large portion about his personal life has been over-exaggerated and therefore, research is key.

Heath’s private life is not something we should pry into and we should be respectful of the fact that we simply do not have the information to conclusively determine certain theories. It is among human nature to ask questions and want answers, but it is our responsibility to know what is appropriate and how we should go about researching such a topic. 

Do not pry into Heath’s private life; be mindful of the information you choose to share and treat him as you would treat any other person. Just because he is a “celebrity” does NOT mean that every detail of his life should be public access. Treat him how you would want to be treated; you are not entitled to his private life, nor is anyone other than those he was closest to. 

We have countless interviews and testimonies to his character from family and friends, those of which prove to be the most accurate. 

Check out this video: Famous People Talking About Heath Ledger to hear some of these positive testaments to his character.

Drug abuse is a very serious matter; I do not condone Heath’s decision to abuse prescription drugs, nor should any fan; his death provides a testament to the dangers of prescription pills and we should remember to be mindful of their effect. Prescription drug abuse is a serious matter and we should not overlook the seriousness of it.

If you or someone you know is suffering from Opioid drug abuse, visit the link provided for the CDC’s help and resources

Please remain respectful while researching his passing and use discretion. Information perpetuated by the media has proved time and time again to be harmful to those in the limelight and Heath was a victim of that as well. Respect the fact that we do not know of his private life and accept that we do not have the right to know. There is a large amount of information present, providing speculation into this subject and I advise you to research with caution, as some of it is damaging to Heath’s character. 

Most importantly, use this time to remember Heath for the incredibly gifted and talented soul that he was. As fans, it is important not only to understand his passing, but to keep his legacy alive through the ways in which we choose to honor and remember him. 

Heath Ledger’s death was a tragedy. His family and friends still grieve his passing and his daughter, Matilda, is without a father due to his premature death. Please be respectful and courteous of this and honor Heath in a way in which he would be proud of. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this lengthy post. With much controversy surrounding Ledger’s death, I felt it necessary to speak out on a couple of things, especially with the anniversary of his death coming up. Please feel free to add onto this post any way you would like, especially if you find more information that is factual and important to share within the community.

 I will reiterate: BE RESPECTFUL. BE COURTEOUS. BE KIND. Do NOT harass his family and friends. Do NOT mock his death. Do NOT share offensive/upsetting images or media that is damaging to his character, now or ever. Respect others who choose to use this time simply to remember this wonderful man for all that he was and do not discuss his passing with anyone who might be triggered by the mentioning of it. 

This community is a loving, caring and amazing place where we choose to remember Heath in our own ways and keep his memory alive through the creations and art we all share. Build each other up and listen to one another; treat each other as if you are looking at Heath directly and show the world the same kindness he showed while he was among us. 

Thank you. 

#heath ledger #tw: death #tw: suicide mention #tw: drug abuse #tw: drug overdose #tw: drugs #my stuff #okay to reblog #I triggered myself so bad to make this post please appreciate it and take it all into consideration

[ahlis-xiv]

journal 50.4

G’raha sat alone, semi-hunched over a piece of parchment as he worked. Although he did not show it, the drafting he ambitiously began was nothing short of a place between fascinating and downright tediousness. The solution to tempering that nestled within his mind and finding a proper way to convey it into some sort of physicality that others could understand took time and a level of focus that brought him back to his Studium days.

He did not mind the effort, really, yet part of him couldn’t help but feel he could be applying himself to something else...namely figuring out why his dear friend decided to depart in such a hurry without so much as a word.

G’raha sighed, and scratched out part of the formulae he attempted to use as a proper proof. It wasn’t correct or, rather, not good enough, and he knew it: it almost felt like he had to somehow invent a whole new notation and he was second guessing every attempt. That, he knew, was as strong a sign as any that he needed a break.

Abandoning his work for the more welcoming sight above Mor Dhona proper, he took to his usual perch and leaned over the ledge to watch the activity below. Ever since he arrived there—since waking up, really—G’raha found the habit of people-watching a welcome one when it came to clearing his head. It had also been an old habit as well from his time as the Exarch. It was difficult at times to not be reminded of it when he went there to be alone--not that it troubled him, but rather his thoughts inevitably wandered to those he had to let go. To old friends and, naturally, to her.

What would Lyna think, he wondered. Of everything? Despite assurances, both given and told to own self, he knew it was a question not quite answerable. He was unfettered, free—free to live the life he wished. A second chance. Yet something gnawed away at his heart that only grew in the wake of what occurred in Ala Mhigo. And the Warrior of Light was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t wish to admit it, but that this point most of all prickled his thoughts. She had been wounded in the confrontation: not severely but enough to warrant considerable healing, namely for her arms. She berated herself for not properly handling the situation, that it was foolish to not deal with Fandaniel and his summoning there and then somehow. When the dust settled with wounds seen to and mended, she slipped away and out of his reach.

G’raha’s hands clasped together in front of him, fretting as his anxiety swelled. Ahlis said many things in the aftermath at the menagerie; much of which he knew was said in a fury he rarely witnessed. He also knew he ought to not dwell on it, as it was not directed towards him—but it felt personal, watching the anger and the walls that suddenly erected around her, forbidding his approach. Surely she knew, she must’ve known that he cared—that they all cared? G’raha understood what it meant to seek solace, to lick one’s wounds after a poor bout in battle, yet to shut him out? Why?

He huffed a frustrated growl, and pouted to himself. This is not about you, G’raha, his more sensible self spoke in his mind. It did little to help when he knew naught what to do with his...feelings, with no soul to utter them to. For the moment, all he had in certainty, was himself.

Looking above to the darkening sky, stars were beginning to sparkle in the deep blue, the gloom weak and unable to hinder their shine. He hoped that wherever Ahlis was, and however she felt, that her safety was sure and her healing swift.

---

Ahlis suddenly grasped the pillow within her bare arms as a sneeze escaped her nose and immediately regretted it.

“Bless you, dearest,” Aymeric spoke above her, his hands gently working her back’s aches and pains into a soothing massage.

“Augh, no,” she said, voice muffled by soft cotton where she shoved her face into it. The great debate of whether she should lift her head up or not kept her in place, lest she reveal a potentially not-so-graceful mess. “I think I ruined it.”

Wordlessly and only with a soft chuckle of amusement Aymeric rose to retrieve a handkerchief as if reading her mind in her current discomfort. When he returned Ahlis was already sitting up, the pillow still pressed to her face. He did not know how to assure her that there were far worse things that could ruin one’s bedding, but seeing the flushed look upon her face while she cleaned herself as discretely as possible encouraged him to say nothing.

“Are you feeling better?” Aymeric asked, once she seemed satisfied to show herself, the pillow and handkerchief no longer covering her face.

“Yes, thank you,” Ahlis spoke, relief entering her voice. “I am sorry, about this, though.” Her hands still held onto the pillow until he reached for it himself, lightly tossing it aside and back onto the bed.

“It is of no consequence. My home is yours, including the aforementioned pillow.”

That made Ahlis laugh, as he hoped it would, and Aymeric took this moment to join her again, sitting side by side upon the edge of the bed. It was useless however to ignore the wrappings around both her palms and forearms, both of which had been kept out of sight when lying on her stomach. Catching his glancing eyes, Ahlis took that moment to adjust her bandages.

“The pain is mostly gone. Now it’s just itching,” she spoke, more annoyed than in any sort of true discomfort. “New skin takes some getting used to and breaking in, imagine that.”

“May I see it?” Aymeric asked after a moment’s pause, his voice careful in its near-whisper like intensity.

For a second, she hesitated. Unraveling them didn’t hurt much anymore, so when she did reveal the newly healed burns that rested beneath she didn’t hold back in extending her arm in front of him. If only her heart that thumped heavily in her chest agreed! Nerves, however troublesome they proved to be, would do little in assuaging his concern.

“There you are,” Ahlis said with an exuberance she hoped sounded sure and confident. “It’s not so terrible now, aye?”

It was not her intent to fool him, rather, it was better than the ire she felt deep within at how it happened, and better still than to appear caught off-guard or foolish to have been struck at all by such an injury. It had been a mistake, one that could’ve gone even more horribly wrong in an instant if not for…

“Oh, Ahlis...”

Her thoughts stopped, everything stopped. She was helpless as she watched the shock that touched his eyes turn to despair, to pain that flowed into the tenderness that came with his touch as he cradled her wrist to his cheek. There was a knot of scarred tissue just below where his lips met her skin; the first kiss was given there, then another just above it towards her palm.

Such sensations, intensified against her freshly healed wounds, rendered her voice frozen within her throat. It was almost too much; she released a heavy, shaky breath that gave him pause, and Aymeric turned to look upon her so intensely, so painfully, she dared think she might cry herself.

“It’s fine,” she found herself saying, finally, unsure if it truly was after all.

---

Later, long after they had gone to bed, she would wake to see the stars out in the beyond just outside the window, the silhouette of spires cutting across the dark. A rare, clear night in the city. Gripped by the sight, she stole herself away to find a place to write...

Evenings have proven to be the best, and only time, to write clear-headed these days. As if I do not need sleep.

The itching has finally subsided enough to carry on without thinking about it and now I can finally sit for half a bell to write while at the same time not wishing to scratch my skin off. I’ve had lacerations, all manners of bruising and concussive injuries. I’ve even been shot at! But note to self: never get fucking burned like that again.

I’m going to kill that bastard with his own medicine, and I will enjoy it

[there is a drawing here of a figure in a robe with a sword skewering it all the way through, who is also on fire]

The healing has progressed as it will, and I trust Krile and Alphinaud’s hands more than any other—although granted my sourness over it all could have been a little less scathing, I guess.

But what can I say, a lot of bullshite has been happening these days. I’m getting a mite bit enraged that these Ascian arseholes aren’t leaving me alone, and yet I am not entirely surprised. It’s not over until it is over.

gods when will that be never ah ha ha ha

In the meantime I have made good on my own promises to make my own self comfortable as best I can, heal as best I am able, and spending what time I can in Ishgard. The others are probably wondering when I’ll return to the Stones but until G’raha outlines our approach on implementing proper protocol on the tempering solution I honestly don’t want to hear about anything else. Alisaie should be helping, I am sure, as is Alphinaud too I think. It’ll be fine! And fast too.

I mean I would help more too but I don’t have a crazy as all hells academic background as they do seven hells I’d love me a curriculum found in the Studium within those stupid halls and their even stupider “zero involvement” stance on bloody everything

share your goddamn science you twits

I am far more tired than I thought. But! I am also finally able to think about the impending reconnaissance we’re bound to have soon once Thancred and Urianger return.

if something happens with them I swear to ever loving shite I am going to boot them back to the First with my fist

Without my Stupid! Arms! Annoying me!

OH is that little

[the writing stops here with an ink blot, as if the pen was dropped and left there, the smeared and distinct shape of a cat’s paw crossing part of the page]

#my writing #the journals #this got way longer than I thought but I did it! #big thx to em for helping me edit this bless and thank #I enjoyed this even if it was difficult to write #hey I finally got some g'raha writing in AND some kinda fluffy angsty stuff? yeeee #; final fantasy xiv #patch 5.4 #shadowbringers #reading for maint har har

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 507: Elevation

Jaune sat in the back of the airship. Ruby squatting over Qrow.

"Miss?" one of the Mistralan soldiers asked her, and she looked at him. "If you could sit back..."

"But?!.." Ruby exclaimed.

"So I can examine him." the soldier stated.

"Ruby..." Jaune tiredly uttered, and waved her towards him. Ruby nervously looked at Qrow for a few more moments before turning to the back. Jaune gave her a powerful, harrowing, looked that called her towards him. As she was sitting down she found Jaune's arm over her shoulders pulling her in.

The soldier quickly began to examine Qrow. "So, what happened to him?"

"Scorpion Faunus." Jaune tiredly stated.

"Can you help him?!" Ruby exclaimed.

"With Faunus it's always hard to tell, but we do have a few scorpion antivenoms." the soldier stated.

"With you?" Ruby asked.

"Scorpion stings are pretty common around here." the soldier stated. He shuffled over to a cabinet and started going through it until he found the anti-venoms and shuffled back over. "With the fact I can see it through the bandages means it's probably a LOT of venom. Once I figure out which is the right one, I'll need to use the whole bottle."

"Here." Jaune voiced, and handed something wrapped in bloody cloth.

"Is this?.." the soldier tepidly asked him.

"Is it?!" Ruby much more firmly asked him

"Ruby was able to cut it off." Jaune stated, and Ruby turned even more pale. The soldier tepidly reached over and took the tail, opening it up. "I know which one to use."

Jaune just let out a great sigh of relief.

"Will he be alright?" Ruby nervously asked the soldier for a moment before turning to stare at Jaune in aew.

"I've seen Huntsmen bounce back from much worse," the soldier stated, "but it's lucky we got to him before it got any worse."

* * *

Aurora stood in the hangar when Weiss walked in. "Mistress!" she exclaimed, and the pilot stepped out of the airship.

"This is the gentleman that will be taking me?" Weiss asked. "Mr?"

"No names, Miss." Aurora stated, "We had to find someone corruptable enough to take us, but incorruptable enough to hold his word."

"Your Lien is good enough." he stated. "you can hide out back in the cargo hold. I'll take you as far as I can, but if we get caught, you're on your own. Understand?"

* * *

The two, wooden airships landed in the Mistralan aerodrome, well within the confines of Mistral. A large group ran up to them. Some medics, at least two of which were bearing stretchers. Others were dressed more finely, likely diplomats or some such. Ruby made to stand up but Jaune held her down, and she just sat, watching.

"Sting from a scorpion Faunus." the crewman said. "We gave him a full vial of anti-venom, and he has made significant progress."

"How much progress?" one of the medics asked.

"So much so that he is complaining that..."

"My flask in empty." Qrow stated.

One of the well appointed Mistralans walked into the airship. "Is there any reason to deny him?" he asked.

"Medically... it would create too many variables. Considering we don't know how much he's already been drinking." And Qrow sighed.

"I apologize." the well-appointed man stated, and Qrow sighed once again. The well appointed man then turned to Jaune and Ruby. "We will make sure he gets the finest care."

"They're good at that in Mistral." Qrow quiped.

"Taking care of people?!" Ruby eagerly asked, and Qrow groaned. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, soon enough." He then laid back in his stretcher. "You!" he said, and pointed at the well-appointed man, "You make sure they get taken care of!"

The well-appointed man turned around and bowed, "But of course." he said, and Qrow laid back again. The well-appointed man then turned back to Jaune and Ruby as Qrow was being carried away.

"Good luck, kiddos!" Qrow said as he was carried away.

The well-appointed man bowed. "My name is Dong Han. I am a bureaucrat with the Kingdom of Mistral."

"Hello." Ruby said to him.

"And what might your names be?" he asked.

"Jaune Arc," Jaune said, "and this is Ruby Rose."

"And your occupation?"

"Huntressesmen!" Ruby emphatically said, whereas Nora would be heard shouting the same thing from outside the airship.

Jaune squeezed Ruby's shoulders. "We are... were... students at Beacon Academy." Jaune said.

Dong Han bowed once again, "We were afraid of this." he said with firm conviction in his voice, but not his speech. "We are terribly sorry for your loss. And what brings you to Mistral?"

"I... really don't know..." Ruby nervously said.

"She had a hunch." Jaune said.

"A hunch?" Dong Han asked.

"Her hunches are usually right." Jaune stated. "We have been acting like Huntsmen."

"The Vytal agreement?" Dong Han asked, and Jaune nodded.

"Teams of students at the Academies," Jaune stated, "can take contracts as Huntsmen."

"But of course." Dong Han added. "Now, how long will you be staying in Mistral."

"We... don't know?" Ruby asked.

"Indefinite." Dong Han said with a smile. "We will make sure one of our guest houses is ready for you."

"Guest houses?" Ruby asked.

"For Huntsmen, but of course." Dong Han said excitedly. "Now, while you are staying in Mistral, you will be under the care of Mr. Qrow Branwen."

"He is my uncle!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Ah, yes, indeed like that." Dong Han added. Ruby looked at Jaune, who looked like he had tasted something sour.

"Hm?" Ruby asked, but Jaune just shook his head.

"Now," Dong Han said, "we have a lounge that will make sure you are taken care of before we can get everything ready. And your uncle can make a recovery."

"We're not so big on big gatherings..." Jaune voiced.

"Ah?" Dong Han asked, "Perhaps you would prefer to an isolated garden?"

Jaune and Ruby both nodded there heads. "That - actually does sound better."

"Wonderful!" Dong Han exclaimed, "Now, before I have my aid show you to the garden, due to your Faunus nature, are there any special accomodations you would require?"

Ruby and Jaune looked at each other for a moment before Jaune looked back at the bureaucrat. "Headroom?" he asked.

"But of course." Dong Han stated.

"If I may?" Ren asked as he approached the airship.

"Yes?" Dong Han eagerly asked.

"Two of our members can eat a considerable amount, even among Huntsmen."

"I will inform the caterers." Dong Han excitedly said.

"Caterers?" Ruby's asked.

"We assume that you are tired and famished from your long journey?" Dong Han asked.

"Indeed." Ren stated.

* * *

JNRR followed Dong Han's assistant as they walked along.

"So?.." Ruby asked Jaune, but he didn't seem to feel like answering.

* * *

JNRR looked down from their garden down the mountains that surrounded them.

"Is there anything," the assistant asked, "else I can get for you?"

Ren went to say something when Jaune turned towards the woman, "I'm sure your caterers will be wonderful on their own."

"Oh, why thank you, then if you would excuse me?" the assistant asked, and Jaune nodded.

* * *

"Alright, spill!" Nora shouted while pointing at him.

"They're handling us." Jaune stated.

"By helping us?!" Nora asked.

"It's the old classism..." Jaune sighed.

"Like Atlas?" Ruby asked.

"Thaat..." Jaune voiced, "seems like a new kind of classism. Just remember, we're not as free as we would be in Vale, and if we're told to do something, we have to."

"Vale was the kingdom of choice." Ren stated, "Mistral was knowledge, and wisdom is considered of the upmost importance here."

"I'm worried about Uncle Qrow." Ruby stated.

"Mistral has the best doctors in the world," Ren stated, "and they are at our disposal."

"Huntsmen," Nora added, "are considered like SUPER important here."

"I'm guessing they don't get paid as well." Jaune said.

"And you surmised correctly." Ren added. "The kingdom does more to support them, though, and they are given the upmost discretion."

"There's kind of a reason we went to Beacon." Nora added.

* * *

"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby cried. She turned into rose petals to fly at him. She reverted to hug him. As per usual, it barely slowed him down.

"So, how are you guys doing?" Qrow asked. In reply Nora let out a great belch. Ren, who was sitting cross-legged stood and and looked at him.

"Fed and rested. It is good to see you on your feet."

"Yeah, well..." came Qrow's gutteral voice reply, "they're the only two we've got."

"I'm sure you heard the good news?" Jaune said to him.

"What's that?" Qrow asked him, Ruby still eagerly clinging to him.

"That you are playing babysitter." Jaune said, and Qrow leaned forward, sighing. Ruby swung down, and he used his arm to guide her to the ground.

"Yeah, well... you know... in Mistral, your reputation is everything."

"This is true." Ren added.

"But the thing is..." Qrow grumbled, "I don't really care about my reputation."

"This is also true." Ren said with a smile.

"So," Qrow continued, "you guys... feel free to do what you want. I'll take whatever fallout it might create."

"We would hate to impose..." Ren hestitantly stated.

"You wouldn't be." Qrow said to him, "You just escorted my niece across two continents. You're a friend of hers, you're a friend of mine. Simple as that, so... impose away."

"But like?," Nora asked, "have you met Ren?. Beecaauuse, he's like super-rules-following."

"Aaand," Jaune added, "Nora is super not."

"That's why I've got these two," Nora said, pointing at Jaune and Ren, "to keep a lid on me."

"Like a teapot!" Ruby added. Qrow pushed her hard enough on her back to get her to stumble forward into Jaune's arms.

"Alright, let's head for the house." Qrow stated.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight ending

[orchidbreezefc]

OH SHIT YALL ARE WE PUBLICALLY TALKING ABOUT THE SHIT THE KFAM CREATORS PULL? IS THAT A THING WE’RE TALKING ABOUT NOW? I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

first: im not going to go into issues i have with the show itself. yall heard the helen keller episode and the walt storyline/the character voice a white dude used for him same as i did--my input won’t be necessary there i think. i also recommend the blog @kfam-tea​, thank you for your service, for being an archive for creator-based shit, the current snafu and their history, etc.

this is about my personal experiences with the creators. there’s plenty of behavior by the FANDOM that i don’t appreciate, especially in the official discord--where it’s specifically encouraged and cultivated--and maybe i’ll indulge myself with that in a separate post, but this i think will be more relevant to more folks’ interests and the current climate.

so. remember ep90, “if you’re hungry and you know it”? it’s the one where maggie calls in to apply and gets treated like shit by our protagonists for 15 minutes. comments are made about her breasts. they try to dissuade her from applying for the job posting they’ve been advertising because chet would sexually harass her and rather than address that they’d rather just.... warn off every female applicant? maggie through the conversation is trying to make amends for her wrongs (i.e. high school drama and attacking a guy who sexually harassed her so badly for years she quit her job) and talk about her efforts at recovery, and she is mocked, both in the way she is written and in the way sammy and ben talk to and about her.

it was bad. it was very sexist and bad, and nothing was said about it for a month (7/15-8/15), at which point ep92, “words: greater than pen, greater than sword” aired, which contained lily tearing sammy to shreds over it. ben wasn’t there, which was interesting, because it did create a dynamic where our resident socially aware lesbian (who solely bears the burden of educating people when they are being shitheads and is richly rewarded by being widely regarded as an unlikeable bitch by the fandom and many of the characters) rightfully confronts and gets an apology from a gay man for being half of an extremely misogynist shutdown of a woman. meanwhile, his hetero counterpart and unassailable purehearted fandom darling is not yelled at for his misogyny, and gets to have this Very Important Lesson relegated to him offscreen later. i mean, presumably? i’m pretty sure we never hear whether that actually happens.

still, it was a pretty thorough discussion of how gross that conversation had been, and it was addressed and apologized for in the show itself by the characters (or one of them), which was more than i expected. it regained some lost trust. it was clear to me that the kfam team had received the same sort of outcry from the fandom that i had seen in more private servers, and these were their amends. i decided to tweet at them applauding the effort. this is how that worked out:

[ID: a tweet by me that reads: “@ KingFallsAM hey.... today's episode was good. this was a good way to respond to fan criticism and the apology is appreciated. thanks.”

the official kfam account quote tweeted this to respond: “This was an intended storyline, we don’t course correct. We have ALWAYS had imperfect characters that learn and grow and will continue to. Also... we only saw one tweet even mention it. But thanks?“

a fellow fan, whose username and icon have been redacted, replied to the official kfam account’s response with: “I feel like there’s a less sarcastic way to respond to this tweet. I’m a diehard fan, however I saw quite a bit of criticism about thesexism[sic] in the recent episodes. I too was under the impression that it was a course correction, regardless I am glad that there is character growth“]

so. that was a cool thing. like, i do owe that other fan my life and will show up for them in their hour of need for being the only one to publically stick up for me despite being a stranger, but that sure was a quote tweet that a multi-thousand-followers account used to dunk on my under-100-followers account for trying to pay them a compliment!

i mean, really. the passive-aggressive ‘but thanks?’ at the end? and them saying not that they didnt course correct in this case where followup (a month later) was planned, but that they don’t course-correct, as in they never do that--was a clear statement of ‘we don’t accept fan criticism or feedback on writing OR representation and take it into account, ever’. hey kfam, pro tip: when you say 'thanks for accepting our apology i guess' it really sounds like you didnt feel like you needed to apologize in the first place. which is a pretty bold attitude to take about an episode where a character apologizes for being sexist.

like no wonder you only saw one tweet about it if that’s the attitude you present toward criticism (and, as @kfam-tea​‘s blog thoroughly proves, it is and has been, consistently). i know the risk of backlash is definitely why i hadn’t said anything about 90 in public up to that point. but yeah, 'nobody told us that episode was disgusting in our samebrain discord server that contains the literal creators who have a history of backlash, so can you really say there was fan criticism at all? maybe it was just in your head. after all, if we did something wrong with the intention to correct it a month later, did we really do anything wrong in the first place? checkmate'

tl;dr im not surprised by the new developments. my hearts go out to the MINORS, who are specifically cultivated as an audience by the sfw policy of the official server, who were publically chewed out by the grown ass author on twitter for requesting tags, warnings, or really any sort of discretion or consideration at all on nsfw content.

p.s.: here’s something kyle said on the discord in response to a conversation in which i criticized ben’s behavior during an episode (i.e. said he should apologize and take responsibility for a hurtful thing he did even though he did it by accident, or at least have it acknowledged in the show or the fandom that he did a hurtful thing--another post, perhaps) and the rest of the discord dogpiled me until i cried and shut down and stopped defending myself or speaking at all because i couldn’t deal with inviting any more argument:

[ID: a discord message from kyle that reads: “Thank you all for talking about this maturely and with your words. I’ve personally never seen that heard[sic???] of this scene with that POV attached but that’s the beautiful thing about this show and shows like it, is[sic] that we all kinda copy & paste ourselves on these characters and situations at times. Everybody’s opinions on the situation is[sic] valid with their own personal context of the scene.” two people have reacted with blue heart emojis.]

how magnanimous, kyle. wouldn’t have described the preceding argument as civil even if i did understand how anyone could possibly do anything on a discord text channel that didn’t qualify as using their words, but thanks? somebody literally DM’d me to ask if i was okay because without having ever talked to me one-on-one before they could tell i was deeply distraught by the end, but i’m glad you got to be the benevolent author and shake hands with both sides for a swift shutdown of dissent well executed. /s

#sage original post #sage speaks #kfam #king falls am #kfam negative #kfam hate #kyle brown #lets DO THIS #FREE THE SALT #king falls drama #long post #kfam tea #ok to reblog #lets boogie

[writingforyourpleasure]

WE'RE NOT BEST FRIENDS.

Relationship : Remington Leith x reader

A/N : Sorry I know, not what you expected. It's be complicated lately and I wanted something shorter then "ON THE ROAD AGAIN" and on someone else. But next will be either a new chapter of OTRA or a short fix either on Gerard Way or Frank iero.

Warnings : None 

You were just in front of your best friend’s door trying to calm your nerves. Before you could even process it the front door opened and a smiling Emerson was facing you warping you quickly in a warm hug. This bastard truly gave the best hugs, maybe it was the reason why you hang out more with him. It was a sunny afternoon and Emerson was dressed very fashionable as always, he always stood out from the other kids even before finding his own style. You entered and soon enough his mother Stephanie was hugging you lovingly. Staphanie and your mom were best friends since college and that how you meet the boys, you were six month older than Emerson, you grew up with him basically. First off when you were four until Sebastian got to middle school you and the boys were having sleepovers at least 3 times per weeks and were inseparable, then when Sebastian did go to middle school he started to pass more time by himself and his new friends since he thought playing with you three was not of his age anymore. But you, Emerson and Remington didn’t mind all that much since you still got each other to play with, some things were more difficult though, since you were now a trio there was some kind of imbalance inside your group and disputes tend to happen more than before but nothing alarming since it was always for stupids reasons and when Remington got through adolescence the arguments got bigger and next thing you knew it was just you and Emerson. But everyone was still close to each other It’s just that you had now a certain routine with Emerson and got comfortable in it. You also didn’t want to bother the guys by asking if they wanted to join. Also Emerson seemed happy to have you for himself and have a little time with someone else then his brothers, sort of. Emerson had friends beside you of course but you didn’t talk much to those, they were nice but you weren’t one to party, you considerably preferred to stay at home watching a movie, TV show or play video games or some else worthless.

« Well A/N, the boys must say their hello wait I’m gonna call them downstairs. » Said Emerson’s mom, it was something she always said and did when you were there.

« Really there’s no need. I’m sure they’re occupied and busy, you know. I don’t wish to disturb anyone Stephanie as sweet as it is. »

« You’re way to polite hon’, don’t worry I think they can move their legs once in a while. BOYS COME SAY HELLO A/N’S HERE ! »

Emerson was puffing behind his mom’s back, you on the other side just stood there awkwardly. While you heard stumping upstairs, you took in the delicate features of Emerson.

He had a dark navy blue beret which was quite rare and a white shirt open widely on the collarbone and to his chest it was a lightly transparent, he wore around his neck maybe dozens of necklaces which you bought him for the most part and a simple black skinny Jean. You often wished you had the same wardrobe than him.

The stumping was now very loud and close which meant the guys were in the staircase so you turned your head around just in time to see Seb coming to you and putting your head in his arm and ruffling your hair to annoy you. Well for sur now you’ll be walking around for all evening with wild hair but hey what’s new ?

« Let the poor girl be would you, Sebastian ? »

« Well she’s used to being annoyed since she comes here to see Em, anyway. » Said Seb with a dickhead grin splattered on his face.

« Well fuck you, I happen to be very interesting mind you ! »

Em wasn’t one for a reading. You sighed rolling your eyes to the sky, done with thoses two, while their mom was repremending them, mostly Em since he swore.

« If she ever gets bored it’ll be by you two arguing dummies. » Said Remington arriving at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes then falled on you and a huge smile stretched itself on his lips, soon enough he had you in his arms.

« God Y/N what have you done of my boys ? »

Rem was still hugging you, yeah he tend to do that quite a lot and you never got used to it since it was a little bit awkward with everyone around you. The first hundreds of times Seb always teased him, while Remington was complaining. But you guessed that it had became like a ritual now.

« Well I wouldn’t pride myself in this since I honestly don’t think they need me around to act like that. » You joked once Remington decided to let go.

« Guess will never know since they won’t without you in our house for less than one week. » Laughed Stefanie.

« More like , Emerson, won’t let her be for less week. » Said Remington. Making his mother smile and Sebastian laugh.

« Whatever, c’mon Y/N. »Emerson took you by the end to go upstairs to his room.

You popped down on his bed looking at the fluorescent pink stickers up his ceiling. While he unplugged his Drum speaker.

« How was rehearsal ?

« It was okay we didn’t do much to be honest. »

« But didn’t you told me that you’d finished the album already ? »

« Well we just need one more song and then it’ll be finished. »

« Well don’t worry about it I’m sure it’ll be a great one. » You said cuddling him from behind making him fall into the bed with you.

« Putting pressure on me much ? »

The two of you laughed at that still cuddling on the bed.

« But I’ve got to say I’m not hyped not to hang out with you guys once you’ll go on tour. » You’re best friend held you more strongly than before at your words. Silence filled the room.

« Maybe you could come and visit us ? » Asked Emerson in a small voice.

« Could I ?! » You said looking up at your friend.

« I mean I don’t see why not ? »

You got off the bed starting to dance excitedly and fist bumping happily into the air while Emerson was laughing from the bed.

« But…. Wait a minute ? Isn’t it girlfriends that are allowed to visit you ? » You asked stopping right away fearing it wasn’t gonna happen.

« Well usually, yes it is, but I think I can play it off. Plus if you do think about it we already are an actual old married couple. » You all laughed your ass off at this knowing very well how you to were looking while argumenting.

Not long after that Emerson had to go to the toilets and you took advantage of it to go ask Stefanie if she needed help with dinner. Emerson find It’s way into the kitchen not long after that.

That how you found yourselves peeling potatoes while joking around.

Hearing you laughing Remington join you guys down hoping up the counter, not helping whatsoever.

« You guys are so loud I can’t even hear myself think anymore. »He said with a devilish grin.

« Silly you of course you can’t Rem ! You never thought about something with that beautiful brains of yours, since you don’t have one ! » He glanced at me with a deathly look while Emerson was coughing his laugh away.

« But you’re saying nonetheless that I’m beautiful right ? » Emerson rolled his eyes while Remington winked at you.

« Well looks gotta make up for that stupidity of yours I guess. «

« But you admit that I’m beautiful ? »

« God Remington I never knew you’d suffered from so much lack of love during you’re childhood hon. »You said looking at your potato with a wide grin, with Emerson discretely laughing in front of you still peeling off the skin of his potato.

« But that does make me Belle and you the beast. So I win. »

« Well if you want to lie to yourself love go on, I won’t stop you, but remember that I ‘ll be Beast who’s got a big brain. »

Emerson made a face of disgust at the nickname. You got up and went near the counter, on which was seated Remington, to wash your peeled potatoes.

« Yeah But I’ll be Belle who’s got a big - »

« REMINGTON !!! »Yelled Stephanie making Emerson explode in laughter and pride was taking over your features.

« Since you seem to be quite a talker today go peel the rest of the potatoes of your brother, while you Emerson’ll put on the table in the dinning room please. »

« What does this have to do with peeling potatoes anyway ? » Whined Remington still going over his brother ‘s place getting to work.

« Young man don’t dig yourself deeper, I’m warning you. Now less talking and more peeling. »

You hide your laughing while you returned to the table where was Remington to cut the vegetables.

He glance you a glance that you supposed was meant to be scary but didn’t work out.

« I’m hate to say but Belle wouldn’t be the scariest psychopath for an horror franchise. »

« Wish I could dig YOU deeper. » He muttered between his theets.

« And I wish I could dig you. » you Whispered to yourself, blushing instantly realizing what you said and looking over to meet a blushing Remington.

Safe to say you cutted the rest of your vegetables are in silence as Remington did the same with the peeling.

Soon enough you all were dinning around the table that put on Emerson. You were sitting by Emerson side on his right, while Remington was in front of you and on his right was Seb asking if he could go to a party tonight at his mother who was seated in the end of the table. He excitedly thanked his mom when she agreed.

« By the way could Y/N come visit us on tour ? » Interrupted Em looking at his two older brothers.

A silence took place during several seconds as both of Seb and Rem eyebrows shoot to the roof looking really surprised, you didn’t really understood why before Seb started talking with a huge smile.

« FINALLY ! You guys I was starting to think it’ll never happen you know ? »

What ?

You were really confused right now, was he still talking about you visiting ?

If it was the case why did Remington seemed so hurt ? And even if he was talking about something else why would Rem be hurt anyway ?

« Huh well It’s only if you guys wants me to be there of course ? » Even to yourself you sounded pretty unsure.

« When did that happened anyway ? » Asked Remington pretty coldly.

« What ? » You ask really confused now.

« When what happened ? » asked Emerson apparently as confused as you were.

« Ho c’mon you guys ! Don’t be shy ! I always knew it’ll happen it really was about time. »

What. The. Hell

« Huh well Emerson asked me when we were up in his room a few hours earlier ? » You responded truly still very unsure about this, but figuring they were asking about when did Em bringed up the idea ?

« Ho so It’s really recent still ? » Said Seb.

« Huh well that’s why were asking if it’ll be cool with you two ? » Answered Em fidgeting at the end of his shirt.

« Unless you’re not comfortable with it Rem ? » Everyone’s eyes landed on him waiting for his answer.

« Why would you hit on me if you’re with my little brother exactly ? »

A huge silence landed across the table and your eyes almost blew out of your skull.

« What ? »You asked in a small voice a little embarrassed of him telling everyone what happened earlier.

« If he trust you enough to be his girlfriend don’t try to hit on his fucking brother just a few hours after it ! » He said getting up in one second before just hurriedly walking up the stairs at a fast pace. While you just stood there your mouth hanging.

What did just happened and… wait were they thinking you and Emerson were a couple ? HO they were, well shit.

« Huh… just to put it out there me and y/N are Friends, nothing more. »Said Emerson looking at his mom and older brother.

But He did not looked at you.

« Ho well… shit. Sorry about that Y/N It’s me who directly started to think you two were together, I mean I though so because the people that usually visit us are our girlfriends or boyfriends. I see that I was wrong now, I’m really sorry. »

« It’s okay Seb we don’t mind. » You said sadly and deeply humiliated, you were guilt tripping for something you didn’t do. How sick was that ?

You exited the table without a word to go upstairs, walking til you were facing Rem’s door. You were hesitant, you needed to tell him but maybe It’s more up to Emerson after all ? And why would he listens to you of all people you must be the one he wished could go away probably now.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the wood with precaution.

«What ? » Said a weak voice on the other end of the door. Ho no was he crying ? What the fuck did you put yourself into ?

« Can I come in ? »

« Go away. Maybe you still got your chance with Sebastian ? »

Ouch.

« Mister Remington you may not slut shaming me. » You responded trying to be funny but as the silence took place between you you figured it wasn’t.

« Look, Rem, I think it is all just a misunderstanding, please let me in so we can talk ? »

You waited two long minutes fixing the wood of his door before this one moved to revel a red eyes looking Rem, the sight really guilt tripping you.

« How could you do that ? To your childhood best friend ? »

All of it was giving you an headache.

« Are we still talking about Em ? Or is it about you ? » You asked raising an eyebrow.

« forget about it. » He said moving to re-entering the room and closing the door, but you stopped him taking his left arm in your hand.

« Wait. I really do think It’s just a big misunderstanding, I am NOT em’s girlfriend. » You said the fastest you could.

The big frown on Remington’s face was wash over by a surprised look.

« But you guys said- »,

« we didn’t say anything because you didn’t even let us say more than 1 word. Sebastian assumed and I guess you then assumed that we were. But you’re both wrong. »

Remington’s brain seemed to be runned a mile per minute.

« But Emerson was talking about you visiting on tour.... »

« Yeah as friends dumbass, I ‘m not obligated to fuck someone on it to be on it am I ? »

Your arms crossed on your chest you waited in front of the tall man.

« I-I-I am so very sor-rr-ry…. I… I mean if you want to scream at me you’ve got every right to do so… » he said with a sorrowful expression.

« Don’t worry if I’ll ever feel like screaming at you, I won’t bother asking your permission love. In all seriousness now, maybe just go apologize to Emerson later okay ? »

« Ho fuck ! Everyone heard me right ? Ho what have I done It’s embarrassing as fuck. »

« Yeah from the looks on their faces I’m pretty convinced that they all heard you pretty well. »

«…. That means that I’ve just told everyone that you hit on me when you actually did it as a joke and for no reasons… » Blood was leaving his face at a fast spead and he was becoming more livid by the second.

«Yeah you did. But if that can make you feel better I didn’t do it as a joke. But please next time wait til we do take it to your room to tell everyone. Never guessed you as a kiss and tell but meh we learn something new every day ! »

« You didn’t… ? »

« No I wouldn’t hit on Rem big brother as a joke that’d be a lack of humor to do something so awkward. If I ever wanted to hit on one of you as a joke I’ll choose Em I’ve much more material on him anyway. »

« I….But last year at Seb’s birthday party when I finally muster up the courage to ask if I could kiss you, you said no… ? » Both of you were now a little closer to each other at the point where your chests were almost touching.

« Yeah well pardon me to have refused to kiss you when you were completely drunk AND in front of your two brothers looking at us. Poor souls They’ll still be on medication now if it happened. »

« But then why would you it on me now -»

« Can I kiss you ? » You asked to the tall bleached hair guy. He was blushing so much you were scared that the poor fool was about to explode.

« Why-hy no-ow ? » He asked lowering his voice looking at you expectingly.

« Because I feel like fucking my brother’s best friend. No more seriously I just… ‘I’ m not really talented for all of this but I really like you and I do have a crush on you since several months. Like each time you hug me It’s like I become numb and every problems since to find a solution to itself. »

Remington wrapped his hands, sweetly, around your neck, looking at you with tenderness.

Both of you closed the distance between your lips, it wasn’t sweet or hungry but just a little spark fading as soon as his tongue and lips left yours.

« Y/N… I-I have a crush on you since years but you never noticed me, Emerson always fought to be alone with you and to be the one closest to you. I… never told him because I really thinked you’ll never see me like you do with him. »

« You’ll never take the place of Em. He’s my best friend. But you can take the vacant place of boyfriend. But if you’re jealous of Emerson It’s not gonna do it for me babe. »

« What no ! I’m not…. I… ‘I swear just I wanted to let you know that I was struggling to find a way to get your attention. »

« You don’t need to, coz’ you already have it, you were just to blind to see. »

« ….Y/N.. I love you…. »

« I’m pretty sure that I ‘ll be able to say so in just a few weeks. » You kissed him one last time before going to Emerson’s room and getting in bed with your friend even if you wished to cuddle someone else tonight you didn’t want to seem impolite to your friend.

Emerson vaguely waked up from his sleep to whisper to you once you made yourself comfy between his arms.

« Did you tell him ? Did you guys made up ? »

« yes we did don’t you worry Em. » you said with a happy smile on your face, of course he didn’t meant it like you did but this discussion is left for tomorrow this time.

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[dornish-queen]

Stories of the Melancholy is a compilation of shorts dealing with themes of depression and suicide ideation.  These stories are not intended for all audiences.  Rating: Mature only 21+ and at readers discretion. 

If you are in crisis, there is help.  Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Lifeline CHAT

Trigger Warnings: suicide attempt aftermath, blood, hospitals, mental care facilities, suicide ideation, implied suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, self-harm, bad coping skills, mention of gun, knives, doctors, penis in vagina sex, cock warming, drugs,

By clicking onto the read more, you are consenting to being exposed to content that may be triggering.  If you are sensitive to topics of depression and suicide, I strongly advise you NOT TO READ.

You sat upright on the bed, the gritty taste of the charcoal still in the back of your throat, as the doctor worked on you. Your wrist stung for a moment as he squirted something from a syringe onto your wound, and then the sting was gone. How does one feel in a moment like this, it was completely new to you, but nothing to be proud of. In fact, you felt like a complete failure in every sense, as you looked at the gaping wound on your wrist, it looked like an unzipped purse. This was the stupidest thing you have ever done, so that was what you told yourself, as the first suture went in.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered to the doctor. But all he did was sigh and grunt at you as he continued to stitch your wrist back up. The look on the doctor’s face was of disgust. Like he has better things to do than to patch up a nutcase like you. You know, most of the people that come into the ER actually want to live. The doctor didn’t say that, but you were sure he was thinking that.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of something else, but all you can picture is the knife swiping across your wrist and your flesh peeling open. Curious there was no gush of blood like you had expected, but just an instant leaking onto the countertop. Oh, it’s getting really red, and I’m making a fucking mess of things. I really made a fucking mess of things now. Shit! Well that was a bad idea. The thought was as simple as that. There were no dramatic tears, just a simple feeling that you have really fucked up things now.

You stupid idiot! You can’t even kill yourself right. You fucking cut the wrong way. Well these thoughts aren’t helping me, so shut the fuck up.

After you had filled out all the hospital papers the nurse handed to you, you started to put your clothes back on and asked the nurse if it was alright to go home.

“Oh no, we can’t let you go, dear,” She had a motherly tone to her voice. You looked at the clock on the wall. 1:15 AM.

“What do you mean I can’t go home?” You asked completely perplexed.

“We’re going to have someone take you somewhere to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” She said kindly.

You fucking idiot! This is what you get! You didn’t think this through, did you?

By the time you arrived at Assisted Outpatient Treatment, it was already 3AM. Your mind had quieted considerably and the gravity of the situation really started to sink in. You jumped slightly as the door closed and you heard the lock click. You were pleasantly surprised to see that you had a room with a cot. Nothing too fancy, but it was clean.

Everything seemed to pass by in a blink and you felt numb. Numb to your surroundings and numb to the circumstances as to why you were there.

Just act normal. You kept saying that over and over in your head and you’ll be able to go home.

When it came time for your evaluation, you gave the best performance of your life. You’re not a danger to yourself! Of course not. You watched as the doctor looked at you closely and squibbed something in his clipboard.

“Okay, dear. I don’t see any reason why we should keep you here longer.” He said. You breathed a sigh of relief as security gave you your personal belongings. You called for a Lyft to pick you up to take you home. Finally, I can just go back to my bed, sleep and put all this behind me.

“You look ready” the Doctor said. You gave him a slight nod. “We don’t want to see you back here a third time, okay?”

He smiled at you before walking away and into his office.

A third time? You thought to yourself. What the fuck is he talking about? You’ve never been here before! Or have you? Your ride came and you got in. Mind distracted and numb. A third time. Was this my second time here? Your stomach sank and felt something knot up in your chest. Looking at the driver, you see your eyes in his rear-view mirror. You look like shit, like a soulless creature. Why aren’t you crying? I should be crying, you would think? But there is nothing.

You turned the key and walked in through your front door. No one home. You walk by the kitchen counter, completely ignoring the bloody mess you made the previous night. You see the red ring all dry, with the kitchen knife right next to it. My god! Is that what I used? Your eyes felt heavy and all you want to do is crawl away into the covers. Just sleep. If you wake fine, I guess so. If you don’t…even better. What the fuck kind of thoughts are these? Just go to sleep and it was all be better.

Your thoughts are a blank and all you can do is stare at the curtains. The sheets feel so cool against your body. The sound of the door clicks and you hear him come in. He’s home now and you’ll have some explaining to do. Your failure hits home and you sink inwards. You barely feel his arms wrap around your waist; his face nuzzles against the back of your neck. His kisses tingle down your neck as he moves to roll you over to face him. His face so serene as he traces his eyes along your body finally coming to stop at the bandage wrapping your wrist. His face drops into the most beautiful sadness you have ever seen. You close your eyes, not wanting to look at the disappointment. Because you know it in your gut it’s there. You feel yourself being scooped up and enveloped into his chest. He doesn’t make a noise. Only rocks you in his arms. Are those my tears or his?

"Again baby?” his husky voice barely audible against your ear.

You felt yourself crack and finally was able to let go.

The mornings are when it hits you the hardest. Your eyes open and the realization sets in that you have to endure another long day. Eyes screwed shut again as you feel that sinking stab in your heart, ever present.

The morning cool air prickling against your skin, as you roll onto your side. When did you change into your sleep shirt? You think to yourself. And then you remember. Stroking down the length of your arm and you feel it on your left wrist, the bandage still there now throbbing pain radiating toward your palm.

Images flood your mind from the night before when you were put in psychiatric hold. There is a shame at being put in a place like that, but there was also a comfort with being around individuals that understood you. Being understood, when you don’t even understand.

Tears form little lakes in your eyes. And it won’t stop now. The pull of sleep beckons you and you welcome it, just to ease the moment. To sleep. Not dream. Not feel. To wake up and live again. Or better yet, to not and just be at peace.

An arm wraps around your waist and pulls you into his chest.

-When did you get here, my Love? -

You thought to yourself as you breathed into his chest, feeling his heart beat against your ear. He had been with you the whole night, just to be here when you would wake. How could you feel so dead inside while he felt so alive pressed against you?

His eyes search your face and you know what he’s looking for. That spark that’s never present on days like this.

You feel his lips hot against your neck, but oh so gentle. The strands of his hair felt soft as you weaved your fingers through them. His lips touched yours oh so gently.

“Come back to me, baby.” He breathed into your kiss deeply and then you feel it. The need that pierces your chest. It’s the pain that lets you know that your soul is healing.

You reach down and feel him alive and pulsing against your thigh, but he doesn’t move. He holds you against him, his hands caressing your face. So beautiful to him. He helps you out of the remainder of your clothing. But you no longer feel the need for it. Feel the need to cover your shame. Not with him here.

You feel his weight on top of you, but unlike the weight of the world, you feel safe. He covers your body with his like a shield, as you trace your hands down his back, rounding toward him throbbing at your entrance, waiting patiently.

His hands cradled your head as his lips moved across your neck, that morning stubble that you love so much, hits a spot beneath your ear that makes you moan.

“Take me home.” You whisper into his ear. A pause and he searches your face, your eyes connecting. Your hands line him up to your opening, legs hitch up higher in acceptance. “I want to come home."

Instantly, his mouth covers yours, tongues dancing against each other deeply, as you feel of his body surge forward. The familiar pinch of him burying himself into your sacred place. He stills when he is fully inside you. A feeling of relief washes over you. A momentary respite. But for now, you are one with him and you feel complete.

Clinging onto him tightly, you feel the small rotation of his hip against yours, oh so slowly pressing into your core.

Your feelings begin to stir at the rhythm of his hips. The pain in your heart dissipating with each little movement of him against you.

-Come back to me, baby. -

His voice repeats over and over in your head. Like a soothing voice you heard when you were lost as a child.

He pulls out and thrusts back into you deep and firm. “Come Back.”

Again, and again.

“Come back.” Your eyes flutter open, meeting with his and he sees it. Your spark had ignited ever so slightly. You felt the flurry of his kisses all over your face and neck. His paper-thin smile hiding that small tremble in his lip.

Your hands reach for both sides of his face, fingers making its way through his hair.

“I’m here.” Your voice barely audible, muted by his moans as he plunges deep into you again and again.

You attempt to raise yourself and he helps to pull you upright against his chest. Arms roaming all over your back as you wrap yours around his neck. His face buried between your breasts, as he continued to drive upward into you.

“Oh my God.” You began to moan loudly, his grunts echoing yours like a harmony of the most beautiful sexual song.

Finally, you begin to move with him. Falling onto every inch of his being as he pierces the heart of you.

You are one.

You feel alive again as you move faster and faster into each other. You feel the pinch of his lips on your nipple and your core bursts and feel it radiate up your spine. He feels your orgasm wash over him, and begins thrusting faster until you feel him spill into you, filling you, making you complete.

Time stills and there is just this moment.

********

You feel yourself being lifted and slowly submerged in the warmest lavender scented water, gentle hands gliding over your body. He is there with you as you lean against him as he washes your hair. You feel your energy level start to come back to you and try to bathe yourself.

“Let me take care of you, Sweetheart.” He kisses your neck and continues to wash you.

A wave of emotion hits you, “I don’t want to be like this.”

“Shhhhh.” He always knows when you’re about to break down. “It won’t be like this forever.”

You allow yourself to believe his words. Look towards to a future with a little bit of hope. He’s offering that light to you, and you take it, if only for a moment.

“Do you think you’ll be able to eat a little bit for me, if I make you something?” His voice soft as he lifts you out of the tub and begins to dry you. You nod your head, leaning against him, a towel wrapping around you.

“I can do that.”

You had been feeling better for a few weeks now and feel the worst had subsided, when it hits you like a ton of bricks. It had only been a careless comment from a defensive person directed at you, but that’s all it took. God, you are so fucking weak! You think to yourself. You feel a sense of anger at not being understood, yet begin to wonder if it really is YOU that’s the problem.

Take yourself out of this situation. That’s the best bet. Go for a drive, calm your fucking nerves for a bit. Walk through a bookstore, that usually does the trick. Two hours later and you still feel like you’re about to break, only now you’re in the middle of a bookstore and everyone will see how crazy you really are. Walk through the Self-Help section, browse through at least ten books about depression and suicide. You’re sure there’s at least one book, that might be helpful and put your mind at ease, if only for a little while. Get embarrassed when an employee comes up to you and asks if you are finding what you’re looking for. Oh, and you have a book called “Why People Kill Themselves” in your hand. At the same time, you say to her, “No, I’m doing fine. Thank you for asking.” In your most pleasant voice possible at the moment. God, you feel stupid.

You leave the bookstore without buying anything. That was a waste of time. You think to yourself as you sit in your car, about to drive off. A drive to the beach sounds nice and a walk to the end of the pier. The sound of the ocean sounds nice about now, perhaps that’s the place you want to be. It was only a moment’s thought. A fleeting thought, that’s all it is. That’s what you tell yourself. You don’t act on it and decide to drive home.

The lock clicks and you step through your door. Instantly, you feel his hands on each side of your arms turning you to face him.

“Where did you go? I was worried sick!” He bent over to look into your face and you saw it. That momentary flash of anger, and you look down at your feet.

That sinking feeling digs deep into your chest and you feel yourself beginning to crumble as he pulls you into him.

“I promised I wouldn’t do anything. I promised…I promised.” Your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I know, but babe, you can’t just leave like that.” He breathed heavily; his lips pressed against your head. “Thank you for coming home.”

You felt his arms wrapped around you tight, as your tears began to soak the front of his shirt. All you can think of at the moment is how you’re messing up his nice shirt. How you are always messing up something. The grief takes a firm hold of you and it’s all consuming and exhausting. And all he can do is hold you and rub your back. His touch, reminding you that someone is here and that you’re not alone. Willing you to come back to him.

These moments are draining for the both of you and you begin to wonder how much is too much. How much of this can he handle before he’s had enough and leaves? You look up into his face and see that the anger is gone, and you begin to cry all over again.

I’m sorry. You want to say, but he seems to already know what you’re thinking.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re going to be okay.”

Today was a particularly bad day. Although it started out fine, things just started to curve to the left. If things were to go as planned, my therapy session would have started promptly at 8:00.

8:05. No call. That’s okay. The therapist is usually a little late.

8:10. She’s probably just finishing up with another client. Am I a client or a patient?

8:15. Let me message her. We must be having phone issues or something. That has to be it.

8:30. I message her and let her know that I’m sorry. Today just might not be a good day to talk. But Hey! Maybe next week will work out better.

My message sounded more upbeat than I felt and I don’t know why I felt the need to apologize. But I did. I always apologize.

Today doesn’t have to be a bust, I tell myself. Nevertheless, it slowly turns. My brain starts to feel tired and agitated about the littlest, insignificant things. And then the little things I do to cheer me up don’t work. Pictures that normally make me smile don’t. Things that are coming up that, normally, I am excited about…I don’t care if I ever experience them. That’s where I’m at right now. It’s despair with a teaspoon of anger. Anger with people and anger at myself because my thoughts and reasoning make no sense to me.

It’s the thoughts of the gun the soothes the mind. Or swimming out into the ocean as far as I can and not come back. That’s the thought that calms and brings peace.

I hear my therapist’s voice in my head telling me that these thoughts never really go away, but understand that I think that it’s a reality, but it’s not.

And so, I sit here and try to be kind to myself for having these thoughts…

You drop the pen on the coffee table and see him glance away quickly. You close the journal and put on your best smile before going over to see what he’s up to in the kitchen. You wrap your arms around his waist and lean against his back as you breathe in what he’s cooking.

“Smells great. I had no idea I was living with Gordon Ramsey.” You uttered.

He normally doesn’t cook, but he’s got to be quite good at it lately with all the meals he has been making for you.

“Angel Hair pasta with meatballs.” He said excitedly as he lifted the lid off the pan to show you.

“That doesn’t look too bad at all!”

“I made the balls extra big,” he said mischievously, with that adorable crooked smile. “Just the way you like it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. What a devil he is. What a boyish, adorable devil!

As you set the table, you heard the unmistakable pop of a wine bottle.

“Oh babe! I get to have wine?” you asked surprised. It had been a while since you drank. That night in fact.

“I thought a little bit would be okay, since I’m here.” He smiled at you. “And you promised that you would eat.”

You notice that he doesn’t fill your glass as high as his, but that’s to be expected, you told yourself.

He fixes your plate with the perfect swirl of pasta. That tang of the marinara agreed with your stomach today. You didn’t feel nauseous at making yourself eat. Not like you normally do.

Maybe because you never felt judged when you’re with him. He never frowned at you for not having the will to eat. Only encouraged you to try, if only it was just a little bit. And you know he won’t be disappointed if you don’t finish that whole plate of pasta, he just gave you.

All through dinner, you see him glancing over at your journal. You have this agreement, that you would let him have access to read it. You promised that what you wrote would be truthful, but he was still supposed to ask first.

He hasn’t asked yet and you start to wonder why. Your mind starts to wander. Thinking too much again. Maybe this is too much for him? You’ve become too much of a burden. Best to cut him loose. Don’t make someone else suffer because YOU have issues.

You felt his hand reach across the table to grasp yours tenderly. You didn’t realize you had stopped eating and your other hand was wiping tears from the side of your face.

“Hey…” his voice so soft, still holding your hand.

You look up and see his beautiful smile and the crinkly eyes you love so much. Not a shroud of anger or disappointment.

“Is it okay if I read this now?” he says as he glances over to your journal. “Can I stay in the room with you while I read?”

You nod your head. That’s all you’re capable of doing at the moment.

He brings you over to the sofa and you curl up next to him. You feel his arm around you as you lean your head against his shoulder. You bring your knees up to your chest as you wound yourself up tight like a ball. The flipping noise of the pages seem so loud to your ears and all you can think of are your words. Where do they come from? If all of this is coming from your brain, then why does your heart hurt so much? The fact that this doesn’t make sense to you, makes you more upset.

A new set of fresh tears stream down your face and you let out a grieved moan. You didn’t know that he had finished reading until you feel both his arms wrap around you.

You feel his fingers moving your tear drenched hair away from your face. His lips kissing you gently, not letting you go. He doesn’t ask you questions about what you wrote. He doesn’t tell you how to feel. He gives you your moment to feel what you need to feel.

His silence speaks volumes.

You take more than the recommended dose this time. Just enough to stay in bed, the body only requires so much sleep, but you know you can’t hurt yourself when you are asleep and in bed. Yes, not the best way to cope, but it will do for now. Stop the world and everything around you, without leaving the world.

It was foolish to open up to people. They don’t need to know. They don’t need to know your past. They don’t need to know you. They don’t want to know. Their minds are made up.

She’s manipulating people….She doesn’t mean it….She’s not sick….She’s not suicidal….She just wants attention….She won’t really do it.

You wish all of this were true. You want to be that liar. You feel yourself sliding and hope the drugs kick in faster. The voices that are determined to hurt you won’t stop.

Reaching over to the side of the bed, you imagine him here with you now. But his side of the bed is cold. Empty to the touch. You decide to sleep on his side and cradle his pillow against your chest. That’s as close as you’ll get for now. You close your eyes. You’re sinking now.

You had been feeling so much better until recently, and you reassured him that you would be fine and that you are doing better. The last thing you wanted him to do was to stay and look out after you. He has a life too. He has his work. Don’t ruin it for him. You remember kissing him good-bye and him smiling back to you.

“It won’t be long.” He breathed into your ear as he kissed you gently and held you tight. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You remember giving him your best performance smile you could muster as you waved good-bye. And that last thing you see is that cute, boyish smile with the crinkled eyes. Keep that image and hold on to that. If that’s the last thing you remember of him, you would be okay with that. NO. Don’t think that. Tomorrow is going to be so much better than today. Think about that!

You know that if he was here, he would pull you into his chest. You’d feel his arms around you and he would say the right things, or nothing at all. Because sometime saying nothing, helps the most.

Your cellphone starts blasting you with notifications. He had asked for friends to check up. That’s probably it. You look at your phone.

- Hey Sweetie. Just wanted to see how you are doing?

- I’m fine, honey! Thank you for checking up on me :)

You’ve grown used to lying. It’s better and puts people at ease. Because they really don’t need to know. You don’t need to cause any worry for nothing.

One more ping on my phone.

I love you. – P

That’s all he says. That’s all he ever says. And it is enough. It’s enough to make you try harder. It’s enough to make you want to stick around, if only a little bit longer. He is a world away from you, but still manages to pull you back. You’ve lingered enough in your “cloud”. The cloud is not your safe place. He is.

Ping.

Another notification on your phone. It’s him again.

- Hi Babe! Love you back. I’m doing fine.

You were going to text him “see you soon”. But you didn’t.

The intrusive voice is back to pester you.

She’s just trying to manipulate people.

I can’t wait for tomorrow. Everything will be good and you’ll feel so much better. You repeat this to yourself. And one day it will be.

These fucking pills aren’t working fast enough. Fuck it and just take another.

“What happened while I was gone?” His fingers caressing down the side of your body, your fingers mirroring his actions.

You lay with each other side by side, facing each other. You enjoy moments like this where it’s quiet and your both completely naked with each other, but there’s no expectations for anything. You both just live in the moment with each other. Two souls bare in every way. Sometimes you have deep conversations and just fall asleep like this. Other times, all you do is mirror each other’s touch. Sometimes there is sex, sometimes not, but there is always intimacy and openness.

“What happened while I was gone? He repeats and you hesitate just long enough for him to break contact with you. You feel his fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he looks into your eyes. He can tell you haven’t been eating properly, his eyes keep moving toward your hip bones, more pronounced.

“I took some pills.”

“And…” He knows. He always knows.

“I went online to look for a gun.”

He takes your hand that was caressing his hip and brought it up to his lip, his facial hair tickled the top of your hand. You see him close his eyes tight and felt his breath grow heavy.

“What did you do?” He said quietly, still holding your hand to his lips.

“I didn’t buy it. I only looked.” Finally, he was looking at you, his eyes creased. “I had a bad night and I thought it would help.”

“And did it? Help?” He seemed to move his body closer to you.

“No…I just felt stupid afterwards…and…” You break contact with his eyes and take your hand away from him and begin stroking his shoulders, as though you are searching for something, anything familiar.

“and what?” He presses gently, feeling your tension build.

“…broken. I feel broken.” You don’t realize that he’s stroking your hips in the same way you are caressing his shoulder.

“And the pills? How many?”

“Not a lot. Just enough to make me sleep.” You saw the crease in his eyes again, like he doesn’t believe you. And you feel yourself beginning to panic. “I was afraid of myself, that’s all. I just wanted to sleep and hope the next day would be better.”

“Why didn’t you call me? We talked about this.” He was challenging your thoughts. But not in a way that made you feel threatened.

“I know. I wanted to do it on my own. Manage on my own. I didn’t want to bother you.” You close your eyes, and let your hands roam across his body and he lets you.

“I want you to bother me. I NEED you to bother me when you feel like this.”

Your hands continue to roam, coming to a stop automatically at his length. You feel his soft curls twirl between your fingers. The touch of him calms your sniffles and then you feel him twitch in your hand.

“I’m sorry.” You pulled back with an embarrassed giggle. But he just pulls you in suddenly, his arms completely around you, holding you tight. Your head buried against his chest.

“What do you have to be sorry about, babe?” he sounded so amused. “You have that affect on me. I’m not sorry about that.”

You realize how pointless it is to feel even remotely embarrassed. You are naked after all and begin to laugh with him. Two naked fools just holding each other and laughing.

You scoot up to meet his lips with yours. You shower him with a fleury of small kisses, ending with a deep slow kiss. He explores your mouth with his slowly. You feel him growing harder, wedged between your legs. You feel his palm on you, his fingers circling your entrance, as his tongue intertwines with yours.

“You have that affect on me too.” You pause for a moment to catch your breath, eyes connecting.

Then all of a sudden, you both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Why are we laughing?” You try to say as you attempt to hold in a giggle with no success.

“I don’t know!” He giggled into your ear. “You started it!”

“You’re still hard!” You laughed louder, as you stroke him.

“I know! It’s your fault!” He laughs as he pulls you on top of him, making nibbling sounds against your neck.

“Do you want me to keep you warm tonight, Love?” You breathe and nuzzle into his ear, finally calming down after a moment.

He nods and begin to spoon, his chest presses against your back. He slides in smoothly from behind you as you feel his hands cup your breast. Are you warming him? Or is he keeping you warm and safe? Perhaps a little of both.

You feel the calm pull of sleep when you hear him whisper into your ear. “Promise me.”

It had only taken you minutes to drive to the beach. You parked your car and made your way toward the pier. The sound of the waves growing louder the closer you got. You had thought of this in detail for so long, it’s as calming as you imagined it to be. As you walk down the pier, you see families getting ready to go home after a day of play, couples enjoying a stroll together. You reach the end of the pier and lean forward against the wood railing, the gentle sloshing of the water below you is so soothing. Closing your eyes, you just listen and smile. The sun is low and the sky around it is painted in swirls of deep warm orange. You feel nothing but peace here and you gaze out and watch the sun drop lower and lower. Your last sunset and there is no pain. Only the sense of relief fills every part of your being. Peace.

As the sun touches the horizon, you see that everyone had almost left for the day, only a few remain like you to watch the sunset. You smile at faces of these wonderful people. They look so content. You know you have to wait until everyone leaves before you do it. Until then, you just enjoy the peacefulness of your surroundings.

You feel your cellphone buzzing in your pocket. It momentarily interrupts your thoughts and a small ping in your chest. Push it away and just watch the sunset. The sun is almost gone.

The phone is going off again. This time you answer it. His is the voice that sings to your soul. You tell him where you are and how fantastic the sky looks and how the sun is almost down.

“I love you. Please come home.”

“But it’s nice here. I like it here.” You continue to gaze at the horizon. The sun is gone.

“I know baby. Just start walking back. I’ll stay on the phone with you.”

A wave of cold washes over you and you feel the tightness in your chest and the pull. The tears pool in your eyes and start to distort your vision.

“Baby?” you say, barely holding it together.

“I’m here. I’m not hanging up. Just follow my voice.”

Your feet begin to take you back to the front of the pier and back to your car. His voice leading the way back to you. You sit down in the front seat of your car with your forehead resting on the steering wheel. The gravity of the situation hitting you.

You manage to drive home safely and begin to put the key into the front door as the door open with whirring force. You feel his arms around you immediately. His embrace is tight and he breathes heavily, trembling, his face pressed to your head.

Quickly, he pulls you inside and grabs your purse and rummages through it.

“Where is it?” He says frantically, dumping the contents onto the floor. “Your gun! Where is it!”

“I don’t have it!” You grab his hand away from your stuff and try to collect them all in your bag. “I told you I didn’t get it!”

“Then why did you go there, ALONE!” He shouts out of frustration. You hear the agony in his voice, in the way he’s looking at you and you know this is all your fault. Everything is your fault.

“I don’t know!” you cried.

Your chest tightens and everything feels so heavy. Your falling and there’s nothing left you can do except to let it happen. It’s no use. What’s the point anymore? You feel yourself being lifted before collapsing completely on the floor. And then you are on your bed, curling into your pillow.

“I can’t do this anymore…. I want it to stop…” as you continue to sob. You feel his hand comforting you, always. Holding your back close against him. He’s got you. But you feel the guilt build. And it hurts you more. “You need to let me go. I just want to go. It will be better. Everything will be better.”

Moments like this are unbearable. And you wonder how much longer can you continue doing this. To yourself and to him. This is not living when every moment you feel yourself dying inside.

“I want you to let me take you somewhere.” His body begins to tremble behind you as you feel his tears hit the side of your neck. “I don’t want to see you suffering anymore.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.” You say as you feel your body tighten up some more.

“It’s not like that, baby.” He soothes your head with his hand. “There will be people there that know what you are going through and they’ll be able to stabilize you. And they can help me, help you better. Just think of it like urgent care. Okay, baby. Urgent care for your beautiful brain.”

You turn to face him on the bed, your face a wet mess. But all you see is him smiling at you, his eyes red, but still beautiful.

“But people will look at me funny.”

“Well, they’ll have to say I look funny too.” He says reassuringly, wiping the tears from your face.

“But you don’t look funny. You’re pretty handsome.” You said quietly, a half giggle in between sobs.

He chuckles quietly as he kisses you tenderly on the lips. “Are you ready to go?”

You hold on to him tight, feeling his shoulder against your face and you silently nod.

#mental health #mental illness #fiction #depression #passive suicide ideation #active suicide ideation #suicide ideation #mental care #therapy

[stillness-in-green]

MLAWeek Coda: The Lore Post

Sorry this is a few days late!  To the surprise of absolutely no one who has read some of my longer meta posts, I just don’t know how to shut the F up.  (Spoilers: this post is only a few hundred words away from being as long as everything else I wrote for the week put together.)  

Anyway, hit the jump for, in order:

A quick breakdown of the Liberation Army’s general structure.

A list of members, broken down by broad generation, including the ones we have gotten explicitly IDed in canon, the ones I based on figures we see in canon, and the ones I completely made up.

The basic tenets of the MLA and some discussion about their views on quirk supremacy. (feat. fandom salt)

An overview of the way the Advent shook up the political landscape in Japan and the Hearts & Minds Party’s place in that landscape.  Pretty much the same material Trumpet’s victory speech from Day 4 covers, but modestly more in-depth, removed from the need to play well to a crowd, and with some added explanation about the structure of the Diet for readers who are less familiar with it than Trumpet’s audience would be.

A timeline (with only moderately arbitrary dates!) covering the birth of the glowing baby up to the first year of the manga.  Mostly concerned with detailing the events the MLA would care about, but with a few other points of reference to contextualize things for the rest of us.

Bonus Fun Facts: discussion of the considerations that went into the timeline, a look at All For One’s actions re: the MLA, and some miscellaneous blurbs on terminology, worldbuilding and characterization.

A smattering of asides in the form of footnotes.

Note that while this material is based in and accurate to canon as much as I could remember at the time that I was doing my notes on my fills for the week, there’s a lot in here that is based entirely on supposition, interpretation and, at times, just plain-old guessing.  

Thanks to @codenamesazanka and @robotlesbianjavert for their assistance in naming, brainstorming, and just generally putting up with me while the Liberation Army was completely devouring my attention.

@red-the-omnic Somewhat belatedly, here’s that list of MLA members you asked for back during the middle of the week.  Sorry to make you wait so long! 

Enjoy!  

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

ORGANIZATION

Grand Commander: Destro and Destro’s line of descendants.

The First Families: Those who fought at Destro’s side and escaped to continue the fight, and their descendants.  Veritably all high-ranked within the MLA, their tie to the original incarnation of the Army marks them as elites, whether or not their quirks would do so otherwise. The elders of the First Families do a certain amount of collective decision-making when and if the Grand Commander is unable to do so and has left orders otherwise.

Sanctum: “Sanctum” is a special position in the Army.  The name denotes the person who’s tasked with remembering the MLA’s history, practices and lore—the position is considered contiguous, so even when someone is new to the name, they’re still considered “the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army.”.  When they’re getting on in years, they select an appropriate protégé, to whom the name will pass upon their death/capture.  The name must always go to a member of the First Families (though in truth, they’re only on their third one, so it’s more of a pattern so far than a hard rule).

Commanders & Lieutenants: People in charge of major operations, liberated districts, etc. Frequently, though not always, members of the First Families.  Have discretion over their own assignments, but may not have much influence in the Army’s operations on the whole, depending on who they’re connected to otherwise.

Advisors: This title denotes those who are specifically tapped to give advice and aid to the MLA leadership.  Levels of authority vary depending on who they’re advising.  Advisors of lieutenants, if any, are a step above the rank and file, advisors of commanders are about on par with lieutenants, and advisors to the Grand Commander are considered commanders in their own right, regardless of any other rank they may hold.

Rank and File: Pretty much everyone else.

———–      

KNOWN MEMBERS [1]

The original MLA—

Destro: Yotsubashi Chikara.  Established the Meta Liberation Army in his mid-30s in response to the development of what he felt were overly restrictive laws on the usage of meta-abilities. Having observed evidence that meta-abilities grew stronger generationally, he was particularly concerned that no oppressive laws could be enforced by the generation that established them because the next generation would always be more powerful.  Thus, he believed that establishing the use of meta-abilities as a fundamental right was the only way for society to avoid indefinite intergenerational strife.  He was particularly incensed by the government co-opting the message that got his mother murdered to put a pretty, self-congratulatory sheen on laws that did the exact opposite of what she wished for.  Allegedly committed suicide after some months in prison.  The MLA is highly suspicious of this claim—they’re correct to be, but not for the reasons they think.              His quirk, which his entire line would inherit, turns a key emotion into enhanced strength and resilience in the form of a characteristic ink-blot marking.  While it would develop over time, the basic nature of the quirk remained the same. Chikara’s driving emotion was resolve.

Fathom: Destro’s lover, she dedicated a decade of her life after his capture to building up the survivors he’d left behind.  It’s said her son got his drive from Destro, but his anger from Fathom.  Had a large hand in raising her son to be the sort of man he was, particularly in her decision to commit what many considered to be suicide-by-hero when he was in his teens.  A large part of that choice was wrapped up in her never-fully-assuaged grief over Destro’s loss (and, she believed to the end, his murder), but there was also a cold calculation to it—her making a big show of it would lead the police to believe that her attack was the last gasp of the Liberation Army, ending their investigations into MLA activities.  It would also stoke the fires of her son’s rage, honing him into a stronger weapon against their enemies.  Her judgement in both cases proved broadly on-point, though her death did serve to make her son more cautious than she might have hoped.              Meta-Ability: Antennae.  A pair of insectile feelers emerging from her forehead that give her a passel of sensory boosts, particularly in the taste and smell categories, and which also make her able to detect shifts in the air from quite some distance.)

Cascade: A man whose meta-ability lets him turn body parts into loosely controllable masses of water.  Can’t transform fully.  A quick-thinking type able to make hard calls.

Sweeper: A woman with a radio-scanning quirk.  Caught by police in the same fight as Destro.

Sanctum I: The first bearer of the codename.  Had a protective ability of some sort.

Sanctum II’s father: The same quirk as his daughter; see below.  Known for getting some eight people safely out of a police raid by carrying them all out at once despite not actually having superhuman strength of any kind.  (Probably tore several muscles in the process, but adrenaline is a hell of a thing.)

The Second Generation—

Destro’s son: Raised to deeply resent heroes and the government that put them in place, but he was also very cautious of them.  He was profoundly aware that his death would mean the end of the dream that his father had begun and his mother had cultivated, so he was very meticulous in spreading the MLA’s influence underground, rebuilding their numbers before he even began to consider starting to make attacks again.  Destro’s army had been a guerilla force; his son’s would be something much more dangerous.  His driving emotion was anger, and he had two children before being killed by a cerebral aneurysm at 43.  Was able to use his power to make his body larger.

Sanctum II: A woman with an unusual fondness for the traditional Japanese arts, particularly tea ceremony.  Meta-ability: Stride.  Teleport to any location she can directly see by taking a single step forward.   Can take whoever she can carry under her own power. (First Families lineage)

Anchor: An advisor to Destro’s son.  Prominent bull horns.  Meta-ability: Immobilize.  Similar to Lock Rock’s Lockdown quirk, except it only works on his own body.  Very good at wrestling holds (and holding his breath), he tends to fight with backup that can deliver finishing blows to opponents once he has them pinned down.  (First Families lineage)

The Third Generation—

Yotsubashi Kyouyuki: The elder child of Destro’s son.  Deemed an unsuitable Grand Commander for his driving emotion of joy.  Always presented a façade of being cheerful and upbeat, but the ever-present rhetoric that the MLA pushes about the ongoing suppression of quirks and the misery and injustice it leads to left Kyou always struggling with guilt.  In college, it finally got so bad that he resolved to run away, enlisting the help of a friend with a swap-based teleport quirk to get him out of a party undetected. His fate thereafter is a secret that’s been taken to the grave by the MLA members involved in it, but given the typical reactions of illegal underground cults to members wanting to leave, it’s unlikely that he’s living somewhere in happy anonymity.  (Name means Unyielding Happiness, following in his grandfather and nephew's patterns of having characters in their names meaning power/strength.)

Yotsubashi Yukie: The younger child of Destro’s son, and Rikiya’s mother.  With a driving emotion of sorrow, and having been steadily losing family her entire life, Yukie wrestled with depression for most of her life. The presumptive heir to the title of Re-Destro, she spent considerably more time in training than her older brother, but she never much had the temperament for it.  When her father died only a few scant years after Kyouyuki’s disappearance, she expressed her fears that she was incapable of being the leader the Army needed.  This led to her becoming a mother at a relatively young age, continuing the bloodline rather than picking up the banner.  For all her struggles with her grief, Yukie was very determined to at least be there for the son on whom the weight of leadership would fall.  The world of My Hero Academia is a dangerous one, however, particularly before All Might established himself as Japan’s pillar, and Yukie was a casualty of the chaos of a villain attack when Rikiya was ten.  (Name means Glittering Conqueror, ditto the note above about the family pattern for name kanji.)

Rampart: Guardian and general caretaker for Rikiya in his younger years.  Hand-picked for the role by Yukie, who had considered him a close friend since their school days.  Meta-Ability: An earth manipulation power akin to Pixie-Bob’s, though less powerful.  (First Families lineage)

Shinseigi: Trumpet’s uncle, unspecified code name.  Also in politics, though of a more local variety.  Meta-ability: His speaking voice makes listeners suggestible.  (The phonetic pronunciation of his name sounds like “New Justice,” but the kanji are “Sleeping Voice Technique.”)

The Fourth Generation—

Yotsubashi Rikiya: The current Re-Destro (42); CEO and President of Detnerat.  He took up the former title when he was only 6 years old. With the succession of losses that were his uncle, grandfather and mother, the MLA has been fairly careful with him, grooming him with care and rarely leaving him without some form of supervision, be it Rampart when he was young or Trumpet in college.  An extremely dutiful child grown into an urbane man whose good humor disguises a morose—and occasionally volatile—inner character.  Always under a lot of stress (his MRIs are clear so far, though, haha!), but there’s only so much effort dedicated to mitigating that, since stress is his key emotion.  The first in the family line to be able to separate his power from his own body, in the form of his Stress Bomb attack.

Trumpet: Hanabata Koku (44).  One of Rikiya’s advisors and party leader of the Hearts & Minds Party (see below); has known Rikiya since their preteen years.  The Hanabatas were a political family of old, but largely saw those fortunes crash and burn when they started manifesting quirks a few generations into the Advent.  They’ve been clawing their way back into politics ever since and were an early target for the MLA’s project to infiltrate and/or start their own political party.  It was decided very early on that Koku’s quirk and his family connections made him a good choice to groom for leadership of the HMP, so he and Rikiya bonded over their similar positions.  They would go on to attend the same university, during which time they became romantically involved.  In truth, Koku’s university was functionally chosen for him on the basis of which one Rikiya would be attending; the First Families were not about to lose another Yotsubashi to college life.  Koku is more aware of this particular fact than Rikiya.  Still a little wistful about their college days, his opinions regarding Re-Destro’s big starstruck crush on Shigaraki are borderline unprintable.

Sanctum III: Twice’s No. 1 advisor, the dude with the big imperial handlebar moustache and what looks an awful lot like a dress uniform for the Japanese navy.  A few years older than Trumpet.  (First Families lineage)

Curious: Kizuki Chitose (36).  RD advisor and Shoowaysha Publishing Executive Vice President.[2]  From a relatively small liberated district up near Sendai; the MLA connections plus her own profound ambition got her moving very quickly up the MLA chain of command. Daughter of a wlw couple; got her blue skin from her bio mom.  One younger sibling, a sister.  Masterminded the dinners we see the group having in Chapter 218, originally to make sure Rikiya was getting at least one well-apportioned meal a week and a chance to socialize with the closest thing he has to peers, but also because it proved to be an invaluable opportunity to swap information and rumors.

Skeptic: Chikazoku Tomoyasu (31).  RD advisor and Feel Good Inc. board member.  On the bottom end of the generation age-wise, a prodigy in every sense save his broadly terrible people skills.  Recognizes Rikiya’s stress tells because he shares several of them himself, and is also the only person of Rikiya’s generation with the confidence to verbally push him around a bit.  It’s regarded as borderline scandalous by their elders, but Rikiya himself finds it bracing, and anyway, Skeptic’s ability to organize a schedule for maximum efficiency is nothing less than miraculous.  Got Rikiya onto fidget toys.

Toryu:  Toryu is the family name of Galvanize (aka Taser Face aka Kaminari’s Dad).  Mr. Compress’s No. 1, the dude who strolls out onto the lawn after Cementoss rips the hotel a new one and immediately gets his smarm repackaged and returned to sender by Kaminari and Edgeshot.  Great for morale before that, though!  In Rikiya’s age group, his mother’s side of the family (from which he gets the electricity powers) has been in the Army for at least as far back as her school days. (The name comes from the characters for leaping/rising and current/flow.)

Slidin’ Go: Tokoname Tatsuyuki (37).  He’s Slidin’ Go!  Skeptic’s No. 2, possibly because Slidin’ Go strongly resembles the puppets Skeptic is so used to barking orders at and there’s comfort in familiarity.

Aozono: Family name for another of Rikiya’s childhood peers, nothing is known but that green skin runs in the family as far back as her father.  May or may not be related to Curious’s family.

The Fifth Generation—

Geten: Real name unknown.  Family status unknown.  Age unknown, but I’d peg him in the 18-23 area.  Seems to be allowed to attend the weekly dinners without contributing anything but his incredibly terrible table manners.  Can talk an impassioned game about the Liberation Army’s goals (though he pushes the quirk supremacy line a good deal harder than anyone else in the Army is shown to; it’s not even close), but it’s fairly clear that he’s more personally dedicated to Re-Destro than he is the MLA’s cause in and of itself.  I’ll be honest; I have no idea what Geten’s deal is. My tentative headcanon is that he’s an orphan—the English meaning of his name, Apocrypha, refers to sacred writings of uncertain authorship/authenticity—who’s in some kind of Batman-and-Robin guardian-and-ward situation with Re-Destro, but I didn’t wind up writing enough about him to come up with much beyond that.

Nimble: Spinner’s No. 1, the woman with the weird paper-strip-esque hair who doesn’t seem to be in possession of a nose or mouth.  (She absorbs air through her skin like a frog, which is why no one has ever seen her with that sweater covering both of her shoulders.)  Nimble is a friendly sort, though she regards her outgoing good cheer as being a simple matter of social networking.  Ambitious, but sensible about it.                Meta-ability: Sky Write.  Allows her to project letters and pictures into the air around her, giving her a way to communicate she would have otherwise lacked.  She can create words in air she can’t see, but it takes some concentration, and the closer the better.

Scarecrow: Spinner’s No. 2, 21 years old.  Born with amelia (see link in Day Two’s author’s notes) that disfigured his face and severed his arms in the womb.  His quirk-based forelegs—a pair of spider legs emerging from his shoulders—can do a certain amount of basic object manipulation, but it tends to wig people out, so they push him to use his prosthetics like he’s “supposed” to (see Stray Notes section for more on this).  He was viciously angry about it even as a kid, and his parents were frustrated, making them easy pickings for cult indoctrination.  A family friend recommended that they look into Detnerat, where it wasn’t long before Re-Destro himself took an interest in their situation (or at least in making a good impression on them).  Scarecrow joined the Army as quickly as he was allowed to—16.              Meta-ability: Webbing.  The bug legs can project silk like a webspinner (the insect on which he’s based), allowing him to do anything you might broadly understand Spider-Man to be able to do with his webbing, though he certainly lacks Spider-Man’s strength.

Red: Named in passing in the manga, he’s the laid-back dude with the fluffy hair who serves as Skeptic’s No. 1 post-merger.  Probably invaluable in helping Skeptic maintain what bare vestiges of chill he can muster.  (First Families lineage)

The Sixth Generation—

Every child currently under the age of 10 being raised in MLA households with a picture of Destro over the mantle.  It’s not a small number, representing a group that neither the fandom nor the Hero Commission seem to have even realized exist.

———–      

CORE TENETS & THE MATTER OF QUIRK SUPREMACY

Re-Destro is not (contrary to popular fandom belief) in favor of full-throated, might-makes-right, survival of the fittest Quirk Darwinism.[3]  Destro’s will was for people to be able to use their meta-abilities as they saw fit to the extent that that freedom did not interfere with the freedoms of others. He was against the regulation of meta-abilities, but he was not—to the best of our knowledge—against the regulation of crime.  His belief was that one murderer with a fire ability killing people did not justify barring everyone else with fire abilities from using those powers to fire clay, start campfires, engage in fire-themed performance art, use fire to char wood in artistic patterns for money, help park rangers set and direct controlled burns, coordinate explosions for the movie industry, light cigarettes in public, or any other of dozens of possible uses for a fire ability that don’t involve burning people alive.

The MLA do believe that meta-abilities have an impact on one’s personality, but they also believe that that’s okay; that it should be understood and accepted, not feared and repressed—Curious would not have wanted to turn Toga into a tragedy about the consequences of repression if she didn’t think that a spree of bloodletting murders was a tragedy.  Their belief as an organization is that people should be free to use their powers as they see fit in the same way that they would any other natural talent or cultivated skill.  They believe that people will, if free to do so, naturally gravitate to ways of improving their own lot in life via use of their meta-abilities.

Freedom from regulation and freedom from discrimination—these are the core tenets that the vast majority of the rank and file hold to.  A great many of them are laborers, blue collar types who just want to be able to better support themselves and their families.  Many others are those who suffered discrimination because of their quirks and want better for both themselves and their children.  Of course, the further back their connections go, the more likely they are to both be higher-ranked in the cult (with attendant greater resources) and to have grown up soaking in generations’ worth of resentment, groupthink, and radicalism.

Geten, a particularly virulent and single-minded MLA attack dog, has parsed the tenets to mean that people with strong, well-trained meta-abilities will naturally be able to use their powers to do more and raise their status in the MLA’s ideal society, and thus that those who can’t or don’t choose to will not be able to live lives that Geten personally thinks are worth living.  Likewise, Trumpet doesn’t fault Spinner only for his weak ability, but also for his anti-social tendencies.  Of course a politician who’s deeply invested in a narrative of people uniting to throw off their chains and better themselves would be disdainful of someone who locked himself in his bedroom for years and emerged only to violently lash out at society.  (Spinner’s right to call Trumpet a huge hypocrite on this, mind; terrorist cult members have no business lecturing other terrorists about the correct way to violently reform society.)

The MLA does have a problem with quirk supremacy, but it’s not quite the problem fandom thinks they do, and it’s certainly more nuanced than fandom thinks.[4]  Frankly, I could write a whole post dissecting this, but rather than analyzing the canon at length in a post intending to be about my fanon for a series of slice-of-life MLA fics, let me just lay out some issues I think the MLA have.  Note that these opinions may vary member to member, particularly as you work your way up the chain of command.

Many in the MLA believe that people with poor quirks are less capable of asserting their will and becoming whatever they want to be.  They are not, notably, alone in that that sentiment—we hear versions of it not only from villains like Trumpet and All for One, but from the paralleled parents of Midoriya Inko and Shimura Kotarou, the would-be hero Bakugou, and even the iconic hero paragon All Might.  While it’s not universal, My Hero Academia’s Japan is full of people who believe to some extent or another that people with weak or no quirks are inherently less capable of making their mark on the world.  The MLA is just more blatant about it than most.

The MLA are, as a group, not concerned about the fate of the quirkless.  My suspicion is that this is because they think quirklessness as a trait is on its way out—that the touted 20% of the world population that’s quirkless is hugely weighted towards the elderly, those who are from generations when quirklessness was more common.  Think about it: 20% is two out of every ten people.  Statistically speaking, that’s a huge portion!  You only have to look at Deku’s middle school classroom in Chapter 1—thirty kids, exactly one of whom is quirkless—to begin to suspect that there’s something a bit off with the 20% figure.

Further, the MLA follows Destro’s beliefs, and we know from Destro’s manifesto that he believed meta-abilities were growing stronger over time.  So to their mind, not only is quirklessness becoming a thing of the past, but so are weak quirks in general.  While their clear disdain for both is damning—and certainly discredits them as a group suited to decide how society should be structured!—please understand that, “We’re not very concerned with the rights of the quirkless because we think that there won’t be any such thing as quirkless people within a few more generations,” is not the same statement as, “We are A-OK with 20% of the world’s population being second-class citizens for the entire rest of human history,” and it is really not the same statement as, “People with no quirks, or bodies that can’t handle their quirks, need to be proactively removed from the gene pool and we are actively advocating for a systemic, organized culling.”

That said, their disdain, if blown out to society at large, would absolutely lead to discrimination and, undoubtedly, incidents of the same sort of violence that the MLA themselves were forged from.  That they haven’t thought or don’t care about this is one of many things that make them villains.

Further, there is an ugly strain within the MLA that still recognizes quirk marriages.  Because the MLA values freedom, they’re not as ubiquitous as you might think (at least if you think the MLA is a bunch of quirk supremacists with no other goals or values)—“freedom” does nominally include the freedom to marry who you want rather than let your own meta-ability trap you in a life you hate. However, it’s equally true that in a group that believes very strongly in the value of quirks, the power of quirks in the future, and the necessity of fighting a war to bring about that future, there will obviously be members who support the practice.  There are absolutely men and women who have been bullied and guilted by their families into loveless marriages for the sole purpose of producing children with powerful, desirable quirks.  How likely this is in any given location mostly depends on the commander’s opinion on it, though it’s a very rare one indeed who would go so far as discouraging it entirely.

———–      

THE HEARTS & MINDS PARTY

(Considerations on Japan’s political landscape.)

The current monolith of the Diet, the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan, managed to hold onto power for a full century after the Advent, but their grasp grew shakier and shakier over time.  Initial measures to bar meta-humans from voting proved increasingly unpopular as the percentage of the population with meta-abilities grew both larger and older.  People with easily-concealed powers gained office, sometimes being outed, sometimes not, but on the whole, decades of oppression and violence led to an ever-more-popular opinion that the LDP had mishandled the whole mess.  They lost their supermajority in the Diet when their longstanding alliance with the Komeito party splintered, regained it again for a few electoral cycles, lost it again when Komeito itself fractured, and so on, their once implacable numbers shrinking year by year.  Still, they managed to hold onto a coalition majority right up until Saneki Yuuichi was elected to the House of Representatives.

Saneki headed up a small party based almost entirely on the issue of meta-human basic rights.  Like many meta-humans of the period, he believed that the best way for meta-humans to attain those rights was to live like so-called “normal humans,” to show that meta-humans were just like everyone else. His party advanced the ideology that meta-humans should only use their powers to help others or better society, not to advance their own self-interest.  They pushed stringently for metas to be allowed equal recognition under the law as any Japanese citizen, but also supported measures such as requiring licenses for the use of meta-abilities and limiting those licenses to those actively engaged in assisting police.  Deeply tied to respectability politics, Saneki’s party contained virtually all emitters, a scant number of transformers, and no heteromorphs, who the party felt were an impediment to reaching their legislative goals, but whose particular needs could be brought back up at a later, more receptive time.

Saneki’s politics gained him many supporters, but also drove many into the arms of the Meta Liberation Army, who vocally loathed him and everything he stood for.  The confluence of public dissatisfaction with the spike in violence represented by the MLA, Saneki’s coalition gathering popular support among both metas and non-metas, and the rise of named, organized hate groups trying to roll back what few advances had been gained in meta-human rights finally spelled the end of the LDP’s majority.

The LDP falling apart prompted a scramble for power that would stretch on for nearly half a century. Old alliances whose only common ground had been opposing the LDP found themselves free to seek groups with more compatible goals.  Young single- or dual-issue parties leapt at the chance to address their issues with more fervor.  New parties sprung up across the country.  Not only meta-humans, but minority groups of all kinds saw new avenues to press for substantive positive changes that had been dead in the water under the LDP.  Voting numbers surged as they had not for decades.

The old, conservative elements of the Diet were not gone, of course—they remained a substantial powerhouse!—but no longer could they muster the undefeatable veto-proof numbers that they had once enjoyed.

Like everyone else, the remnants of the MLA saw opportunity in the new, ever-shifting status quo.  With the place of metas secured for the time being, there was no longer a need for metas to form coalitions in the Diet merely to get their basic needs addressed.  A single-issue party from its inception thirty years prior, Saneki Yuuichi’s party was fragmenting, unable to decide on a single direction now that their uniting issue had been resolved to their satisfaction.  In recognition of meta-humans reaching population parity, the MLA launched a project to begin seeding the ideals of Liberation at the highest levels yet—the Hearts & Minds Party.

Beginning as a local party in a prefecture in which the MLA had gained significant underground support, the HMP campaigned on a platform championing individual freedoms and a wide range of improvements to Japan’s battered and overworked social safety nets.  They made an effort to showcase diverse representation in their leadership and gave impassioned speeches promising to reach across party aisles in searching for nuanced solutions to the various difficulties facing the country.

It’s impossible to say exactly how large the Hearts & Minds Party is compared to the Meta Liberation Army, which is claimed by Re-Destro to have 116,000 action-ready warriors (the “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action” description presumably indicating that his count does not include uninducted children).

On the one hand, one can presume that everyone who’s a member of the MLA is voting for the HMP on every ticket they can, but not every member of the MLA—who induct combat-ready warriors as young as 16—is old enough to vote, and many probably live in districts or prefectures where the HMP has yet to establish a campaign-ready foothold. On the other hand, while the HMP certainly serves to funnel people towards the MLA, it doesn’t require membership—indeed, it’s far better for their goals for them not to do so.  Therefore, it’s also probable that the Hearts & Minds Party has many supporters who are not (yet) counted among the Liberation Army’s number.  Thus, for the purposes of ballparking estimates, I opted to simply suppose that the two areas lacking overlap (MLA members who can’t vote for the HMP and HMP supporters who aren’t members of the MLA) are relatively equal.

That established, we’re working with a party that has 116K voters/supporters/members.  The closest thing to that number that I could find numbers for is the Japanese Communist Party (JCP), which counted 300K members as of 2017.  Using their total membership compared to their representation in the Diet (as well as a willingness to viciously bastardize anything resembling reliable political math), I plugged in my estimate for the HMP’s membership and wound up with the Hearts & Minds Party holding four seats in the House of Representatives, five seats in the House of Councillors, and sixty-odd assembly members in various prefectural positions.

For some context to those numbers, the House of Representatives (more powerful, but more vulnerable to sudden electoral shifts) has 465 members, 233 of which are required for a majority, and 310 of which are required to override vetoes imposed by the House of Counsillors. The House of Counsillors (less powerful, but serving longer terms and unable to be dissolved for general elections like the House of Representatives can be) has 245 members, with 123 required for a majority.

As you can see, the HMP holding a handful of seats isn’t going to tilt the My Hero Academia world on its axis.  Still, it’s more seats than any number of real-life Japanese political parties hold, and right up until the one-two punch of Shigaraki taking over the MLA and Hawks outing Trumpet’s allegiances to the Hero Commission, the Hearts & Minds Party was well on-track to continue growing its power and influence.

———–      

TIMELINE

(For ease of calculation, most dates are rounded to the nearest five years.)

1980: A glowing baby is born in Qing Qing City, China, heralding the Advent of the Age of the Extraordinary.  For almost two decades, meta-abilities remain rare and poorly understood—incidents are widespread and show huge variance, so most people write them off as anomalies or hoaxes.  As the years go on, however, meta-abilities become more widespread, moving out of the realm of the odd headline that many people think is an elaborate hoax into an alarmed spotlight as it gradually becomes apparent that this is a thing that all humanity is undergoing.  Most major technological development pivots to trying to understand, undo, document or control this new phenomenon.

2030: The child who will become All for One is born.  By this time, society is breaking down into chaos. Across the globe, measures from outlawing all meta-ability use to internment are seen.  Eugenics laws are discussed or put in place.  Communities attempt to run out metas and, in response, groups of metas attempt to form their own communities.  Infanticide rates are rising alarmingly.

2060: Yotsubashi Chikara and Ujiko (original name unknown) are born.  Japan is in complete disarray, awash in mob violence, with organized groups of both metas and non-metas attacking victims indiscriminately.  Developing an ability can get you disowned.  Divisions among the meta minority are developing a noticeable strain of respectability politics rhetoric.

2065: AFO forces an ability on his younger brother, unintentionally creating One for All.  Chikara’s mother is murdered by an anti-meta mob for attempting to speak out in defense of the normalcy of her child’s ability.

2085-2090: Saneki Yuuichi becomes the first meta-human to attain a seat in the Diet. Despite nearly a century of violence, meta-humans are becoming a larger and larger percentage of the population, and the people of Japan are tired.  The prevailing sense is that it’s time to make peace; however, the peace that is being forged involves laws sharply restricting the use of meta-abilities for those who haven’t been formally licensed.  These restrictions see markedly mixed reactions from metas.  Chikara rallies the most vehement dissenters to create the Meta Liberation Army, calling himself Destro.              Disagreement over how to handle the MLA finally finishing the job of rattling the Diet free of the death-grip of the LDP.  Many years of fractious elections will follow as new coalitions form to try and seize majority power.

2095: Japan signs an international accord acknowledging the fundamental rights of meta-humans.  This gesture begins to splinter both internal support and public sympathy for the MLA.

2097: Destro is captured by police and their newly designated Quirk Unit.  Other surviving members of the MLA are hunted down or go into hiding.

2100: The term “Hero” is formally adopted, having been casually in use for some time.  A Hero is one who is licensed to use their power to fight quirk-based crime in accordance with local and federal laws, assisting the police when requested.  The Hero Commission is established as an agency with oversight in the licensing and regulation of Heros.              Destro dies in prison.  Though the matter is questioned, no proof of foul play is ever brought forward, and the death is ruled a suicide.

2110: Ujiko presents his paper on the Paranormal [5] Singularity Theory.  The paper suggests that the power of quirks is continuing to grow with each generation and will, in time, become more powerful than the human body can control.  His evidence is inconclusive, however, and his citation of some of Destro’s observations on the phenomenon becomes a particular sticking point.  In a country that is finally beginning to get its feet back under it, no one wants to see another widespread panic.  Ujiko is stripped of his position; having been living on campus at the time, he’s left functionally homeless and is approached by All for One not long after.

2120: The population of those with quirks and those without reaches parity in Japan. Seeing an opportunity, the MLA launches the Hearts & Minds Party as a local political party, intending to grow it over time.

(2125: Yagi Toshinori is born.)

2138: Yotsubashi Rikiya is born.

(2148: Debut of All Might.)

(2165: Shimura family tragedy.)

(2174: All Might “defeats” AFO.)

2175: Hanabata Koku is elected to the House of Representatives.  He’s not the youngest party leader in the Diet, but he’s close.

2180: The events of Deku’s freshman year at UA lead the MLA to turn their attention to the League of Villains.

———–      

STRAY FACTS

Why 1980/2180?—

It’s an even number for ease of calculation, triangulated between a few considerations.

Firstly, tasers are mentioned in the One for All dream, so the events of the dream (which themselves are happening far enough into the Advent that society’s had time to slide into all-out chaos) must post-date the invention of the taser, which was in 1993.

Secondly, Spider-Man’s silhouette is seen amongst the group of characters who represent the “fantasy” that became reality.  If we assume that those media properties existed in-universe (since the narration is delivered by Midoriya) and were assumed to be fantastical at the time, they must predate the Advent—Spider-Man is the newest of them and his first appearance was in 1962, his material being translated into Japanese by the 1970s.

Lastly, technological and societal development crashed to a halt with the Advent.  The world of My Hero Academia generally reflects a modern-ish Japan, so I wanted modern technology—and modern social reforms—to still feel modern to the characters.  Thus, the point at which society stopped developing needed to predate the Digital Revolution, which really began to hit its stride in the mid-80s.  Hence, 1980.

The opening period is, admittedly, fairly generous on my part, and does assume a certain amount of modern advances were probably underway, but then were lost, sidelined or rolled back as the chaos spread.  You could probably trim off twenty years by stepping up how quickly quirks begin to appear and spread, but the very beginning is the best window to do so.  I’d still peg the Advent at 1980 based on the calculations above (again, it has to fall somewhere between the mid-70s and 1993) but, for example, maybe All for One is from that first generation, and society only takes 30 years to reach the lowest point of its collapse instead of 80.

As to the 2180, the older characters introduce several requirements for the post-Advent timeline.  Ujiko was 50 at the time that society was beginning to stabilize, while AFO dates to its days of utmost chaos.  AFO also needs to be running on at least one anti-aging quirk prior to meeting Ujiko; if the only one he were running on was Ujiko’s own, then based on his appearance and the mechanics of Ujiko’s quirk, I’d peg AFO at merely 85, and he needs to be not only over 100, but far enough over 100 that he’s described that way rather than as “a century-old evil” or something to that effect.

Meanwhile, All Might can’t really be any younger than 50, and seven generations of OFA bearer predated him, even if they did all die relatively young.  Destro’s mother was killed in those early chaotic days, while Re-Destro (himself no spring chicken) is told as a child that the MLA has been in hiding for generations.  “Generations” implies at least two; I further suppose that Rikiya needs to be at least the original Chikara’s great-grandson for him to describe himself simply as Destro’s descendant, rather than use a more specific relationship term.  All of this points to a fairly lengthy stretch of time, much more than is glossed over by Midoriya’s series-opening narration.

AFO and the MLA—

I mention in the very first story of this series that the MLA’s contacts all go “mysteriously missing” after the capture of Destro.  While the police certainly did their own measure of work in tracking down the Liberation Army’s members and allies, there was another figure with a significant hand in the MLA’s downfall.

All for One, then in his early sixties, had watched the rise of the MLA in some interest.  On a personal level, he admired Yotsubashi’s charisma and resolve, and, of course, he wholly supported the free use of quirks (well, his own free use of quirks, anyway)!  On the other hand, All for One also sought to restore order to society, albeit order as he himself envisioned it.  While he was confident that there was no one who could stand up to him no matter whose ideals won out, Saneki Yuuichi’s way promised a more stable society, and bribable and/or blackmailable bureaucrats seemed easier to manipulate than ideal-driven zealots ready to give their lives for the cause.  Thus, AFO decided to help the police a bit behind the scenes, offering a few tip-offs and hints to guide their efforts to end the threat of the Liberation Army.

Of course, as long as Destro was alive, the cause of Liberation still had its focal point. And AFO was still a bit curious to meet this man, who’d inspired so very many loyal followers.  It was an easy thing to arrange.  An interesting man, and an interesting quirk.

Destro did commit suicide in prison.  A man who had always embraced his meta-ability for motivation, and whose ability transformed that motivation into power in turn, AFO stripped him of in the same moment. Isolation from other contact, separation from his lover, his friends and allies, and his cause, a gap in his psyche like no pain he’d ever experienced--all of these piled up on one another into a fatal despair.  After AFO’s visit, there was no need for anyone to arrange a convenient death for Destro.

(And if in later years, the monstrous Noumu, who are driven entirely by pre-programmed, single-minded resolve, are flint-skinned from head-to-toe, well—who would ever even think to connect those dots?)

The Mother of Quirks—

An interesting thing I observed from Re-Destro’s confrontation with Clone!Shigaraki is that, based on their exchange, it doesn’t seem to be common knowledge that the Mother of Quirks is the mother of the Meta Liberation Army’s leader?  Re-Destro’s apology for assuming Shigaraki wouldn’t recognize the story suggests that it’s a matter of fairly basic historical education, but he then goes on to explain her connection to Destro at some length—if that connection were taught at the same time her story was, surely he’d see no need to do this? Clone-a-raki’s response backs this up—unlike the general existence of the Mother of Quirks, which was such basic knowledge that he was insulted that Re-Destro thought he wouldn’t know about it, her connection to Destro was unknown to him.

Re-Destro describes the connection as “an inconvenient truth.”  This, in turn, suggests that the connection has been actively obscured.  The MLA’s place in history is taught; the originator of the term “quirk” is taught, but the two are not connected to each other. Kids in school aren’t taught that the very child whose mother was murdered for her words hated what his country was using those words, that message, to do.  It’s naked appropriation that continues to this day, and it’s no wonder that the MLA is furious about it.

The Quirk Unit—

An early term for the group that would, in relatively short order after their formation, officially be dubbed Heroes.  Composed of both meta-humans already on the police force and vigilantes willing to remit themselves to legal oversight, they fought quirk-based crime in many forms, from the common mugger to the terrorists of the MLA, and even former allies in vigilantism.  Well-regarded by history thanks to their efforts in reining in crime and disorder, but quite a controversial group in their early years.

MLA Age of Induction—

Being raised in the MLA means being raised with the goal of eventually being assigned a codename and tasked with supporting the Great Cause in whatever fashion your superiors think you best suited.  The minimum age for this is 16, though 18, being the age at which students graduate from high school, is more common.  At no point is there really a safe way to leave once you’re involved; they are, after all, a secret army.  There’s no aging out of the MLA—it’s a lifetime tour—but disability, injury or general decrepitude can get you assigned to work that generally won’t expect you to see open combat.  The Army is composed of a great many lifetime-of-service families, after all, which means they need teachers and caretakers; another option is dedicated work for the Hearts & Minds Party, who always have room for community organizers.

Liberated Districts—

Settlements that are at least 85% MLA-inducted.  At their largest, they’re small towns; rural villages are far more common.  Without exception, they’re isolated or out of the way.  Tend to have unusually good access to city services compared to similarly-sized settlements.  Deika was one of the largest districts the Army had, chosen for the Revival Celebration due to its combination of a sizable population and a particularly closed-off location.  The MLA knew they’d need many warriors to fight the League of Villains, but they also needed a site that was not merely remote, but that had controllable points of access.

It can take well over a decade to hit the 85% saturation mark in even small villages; Deika and the MLA’s handful of other full-fledged towns are the work of generations.  They begin by moving people into an area and setting up gatherings on some useful pretext or another, enthusiastically welcoming newcomers and very, very gradually indoctrinating people further into the ideology.  Financial support, an accepting environment for difficult quirks or those with patchy legal histories, the odd homeless shelter or food kitchen, a robust presence in the foster care network—the MLA is very, very good at making themselves a warm, sincere, reliable presence in peoples’ lives, a group that encourages everyone under their banner to be their best selves. They think everyone deserves that kind of support!

They are also willing to shed quite a lot of blood to make sure that everyone can get it.

On the Intersection of Disability and Quirk Suppression—

There are a few factors contributing to why Scarecrow can’t use his quirk to do things others would.  First, his quirk is the kind of off-putting that gets Gang Orca ranked third-most villainous-looking hero and leads Shoji to wear a mask because his face disturbs people.  So Scarecrow’s quirk is already the kind of visible that makes people look at him askance.  Compounding this, his prosthetics are obvious, visible to any old person, and people have a very ugly tendency towards bootstrap, “you can do it if you try” mentalities around people with disabilities.  These two factors mean that people who are disturbed by his creepy articulate bug legs would much prefer that he use his significantly less-creepy prosthetics, to the degree that they’re willing to suggest that he’s being lazy if he doesn’t.  They cite the quirk-use laws as a deflection tactic, but Scarecrow—whose pattern recognition functions just fine, thanks—is keenly aware of the underlying mindset.

Nimble is in much the same boat—she literally can’t talk without falling back on a visual representation of some kind (sign-language, a text-to-speech reader, etc), and why on earth shouldn’t she be able to use the fastest and most convenient one without people getting up her ass about it?

None of this is the kind of thing that would likely get either of them arrested (though Scarecrow’s creepy enough that the odds are higher for him, “villain quirk” bias being what it is), but the laws-as-written, nonetheless, are discriminatory, and that makes people justly angry.  Angry people are easier to radicalize, and the Liberation Army has been working that angle since their very inception.

Re-Destro and Trumpet’s College Days—

RD’s an Engineering major with a focus in Manufacturing; Trumpet’s in PoliSci.  They’re two grades apart, with Koku being the older.  Those two years of greater experience shift the power balance between them significantly when Rikiya arrives for his freshman year, facing a new place, a new workload, an entirely new rhythm to his life.  For the first time, Koku is not merely a friend in similar circumstances who is still—as they’re both reminded near-constantly—subordinate to Rikiya’s every word.  Rather, he’s a senpai, someone with specific experience in every aspect of this new stage of life—and someone who’s had two years to become more eloquent, more well-studied, more confident, more mature.

Removed from the immediate supervision of the First Families for the first time in his life, Rikiya allows himself to lean on Koku in ways he never would have back home. Koku, for his part, has had his responsibilities here impressed on him by the First Families at some length, and has spent his entire life being groomed to devote himself to his Grand Commander.  Having said Grand Commander looking to him with such glowing esteem in his eyes—well, there’s no denying that it’s pretty enticing.  The two of them enter a romantic relationship that will endure for several years until Rikiya gets his head back around the idea that Koku’s ability to say no to him is fundamentally compromised.

The Bindi Connection—

I had no reason to develop them any, and thus I don’t have names to assign, but it seems that Twice’s No. 3, the smiling old woman with the gingham dress and the rough-and-ready attitude to combat, and Geten’s No. 2, the short-haired woman whose face is being devoured by her out-of-control sweater neck, are related.  Note the bindi on both of them, as well as the similar hair color, particularly in the page introducing all the advisors.  Mutual connection to Dabi’s No. 3, the guy who got into a fight with a hole punch and lost, is uncertain but possible based on the confronting-the-heroes page spread in which Hole Punch dude’s hand lays familiarly on Grandma Bindi’s back while Big Sis Bindi turns partly towards him as if to whisper some sarcastic observation about how lame Cementoss’s ponytail is.

———–      

FOOTNOTES

1: Regarding codenames, the first generation of the MLA tended to have names that reflected their meta-ability in some way.  From the second generation on, at the behest of Destro’s son, the codenames have become less literal, and thus less revealing.

2: Viz renders the job tile “Executive Director,” but having checked the raw, the Japanese term, senmu, is associated with a fairly specific level of executive authority, and it’s lower than I would peg “Executive Director,” which to my ear sounds synonymous or slightly below Chief Executive Officer.  Executive Vice President is wikipedia’s translation; Google returns Senior Managing Director.  In any case, she’s near the top, but not at the top.

3: At least, he wasn’t prior to meeting Shigaraki.  Now he’s pretty much in favor of a very organized and coherent belief structure that can be summarized as, “Watch Shigaraki tear down the world ‘cause he’s beautiful and I love him,” and honestly, mood.

4: I’ll just come out and say it: fandom blew Geten’s words way out of proportion because a bunch of people got mad that he was being mean to Everyone’s Favorite Serial Killer Dabi.

5: An archaic term by this period.  Even “meta-human” saw more use in academic parlance, while the term “quirk” had become much more widespread among the general population since its official adoption during the period of legislation twenty years prior.

#MLAweek2020 #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha meta #so much meta #my writing #my hero academia

[fantranslatorbychoice]

Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Intermission 2 - Akatsuki, and a Letter from Utsushiyo

T/N: Heck yeah it's time for the two spider siblings to shine lol we haven't heard from Suzuran for a while now, well, spoiler alert she has left Kakuriyo and hasn't appeared yet since Volume 1 ended, or in the anime when she chose to live on someone's grave. *cough, Shirou, cough* Well, I guess that’s just that. I hope you enjoy reading this short one.

Also if you like this translation, you can heart it, share the link, reblog, I just respectfully ask that DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE. This is my contribution to the scant English content of this fandom, and I worked really hard to finish this thing, it’s not like I just copy-pasted everything. I even had to build the kanji in Jisho one by one. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.You can rave about this, rant about this, but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in. As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff.

OK Here we go-- P148 "Thank you for coming to Tenjin-ya, we look forward to seeing you again." I am an earth spider, a Tsuchigumo named Akatsuki. I am Tenjin-ya's head receptionist. The waitresses and the Gesokuban** has sent off the final guest for today with a smile, and my work as the head receptionist has ended. The moment that the last guest gets sent off, I always breathe a sigh of relief. The front desk's work ended before evening, and the day before the entire inn is closed on a break, we all soak in the feeling of liberation. The young Ogre bellboys were shouting "It's rest day! It's rest day!" and were running around the front desk. The Bake-Tanuki Gesokuban Chiaki-san gathered the ogre bellboys together and assembled in the lobby, and called them one by one in sequential order. Many of the ogre children were orphans, and not only does Tenjin-ya go beyond in providing them work, but also the day before the inn closes for a break, apart from their salaries they also receive a bit of pocket money, and the very first in the line gets freed off from work. "Alright you lot, return to your dormitories like adults, so you won't cause any trouble during work." "OK-- Gesokubanchou**-sama!" As the ogre kids were lining up one by one, Chiaki-san encouraged them to return to their dormitories quietly. "If you run your pocket money gets forfeited. Oh, and greet the head receptionist too." T/N: Gesokuban= doornan, in charge of the guests' footwear. Sorta like bellboys too. Gesokubanchou=head of the doormen P149 "OK--. Goodbye, Bantou-sama!" "Ohhhh..." It's impossible for me to take care of those brats... It must be difficult to be in charge of the footwear. It's better to be a receptionist. "Whew, it's finally over. Ah, Akatsuki, after this, won't  you come with me to Gintengai to have some drinks?" After sending off the ogre children back to their dorms, Chiaki-san called up. He always has this soft smile and voice with a subservient attitude, but he is my sempai as he started a bit earlier than me in working for Tenjin-ya. Among the management staff he is the most recent to join, and considerably has a lot of assigned duties and tasks. "Oh, but tonight you're also going to Aoi-san's place to have dinner, don't you?" "No. Apparently today only the girls got together, they seemed to be having a weird meeting or something." "That's also what Kasuga said. She says that Aoi-san is very friendly to everyone in Tenjin-ya. Ah, Waka-danna sama, are you free tonight? If it's fine with you, would you like to go out and have a drink with me?" "Oh, that sounds nice, Chiaki." Chiaki-san also called up Waka-danna sama. It's weird that he's up for it. Chiaki-san, he seems to have an air of softness and limpness that I don't have, and sometimes I don't think he's appropriate for the reception desk. But the person in question is, among the management staff is said to be the number one outlier with having the position of Gesokubanchou, as he said previously that he likes his job. T/N: Bantou=head receptionist P150 "Ah, uhm... Akatsuki-sama, Chiaki-sama, Ginji-sama.." "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" "If it's fine with you, would you want to go out and have fun with us?" There were three waitresses, they seem to choose at their own discretion when to talk to us. Lately, I have been invited to go out a lot. But for me, I want to get some rest on a rest day. "That sounds nice. But tomorrow I'm called to go back home to my parents' house. I hope you can invite me next time." Chiaki-san rubbed the back of his head, he seemed to be used to it by now and was resolute. Waka-danna sama seemed to be puzzled by the invitation, and flatly refused by saying "I too, have other scheduled appointments." I just decided and told them "That's a no-go" because it's too much of a hassle. "Oh, I see..." It's easy to understand that the waitresses got disappointed as their shoulders went down. "If that's so, then are you free the next time the inn closes for a break?" "Uhm...." The waitresses weren't discouraged. Why did Chiaki-san and Waka-danna sama looked at me over here? At most, you're always free and going out during resting days, it seems. Are you pranking the kouhai? "Hey, wait a minute you lot. Tomorrow the famous Kabuki lead actor named Yukinojou from Youto is coming to the Kabuki Troupe in Kimon**. T/N: Apparently this is what 鬼門 reads so I apologize if I wrote it as Onimon before, I was too much of a dumbass to correct everything oh well at least I learned it before finishing this volume lol P151 You're going out with those guys? You'll just keep screeching and screaming out." Suddenly, O-ryo appeared behind us. The waitresses seemed to lap up what O-ryo brought about, and went "Really?--" "You're kidding, is that true O-ryo?" "I have to check the bulletin board!" "Yukinojou-sama--!" Just a while ago they were disheartened and now they went off somewhere. The girls' high-pitched voices were ringing out, and they didn't even look back as they left us. "As expected of you, O-ryo san. You saved us." Waka-danna sama gratefully spoke to O-ryo, but she just raised an eyebrow and laughed at us. "You three, you were targetted by the waitresses. Among the management staff, you had the lowest difficulty levels. You got cornered, weren't you?" "Is that praise or is that disdain?" "Akatsuki, I saved you, you could at least thank me for it." O-ryo pointed her finger at me, and forced me to say thank you to her. She's surely shameless, an impatient and distasteful woman. P152 "O-ryo sama!" It's the Bake-Tanuki waitress, Kasuga has come and pulled the bottom of O-ryo's kimono. "Let's go now to Yugao. Aoi-chan's waiting." "OK, OK. Those group of single guys seem to be going out for drinks, but aren't we going to a glitzy girls' night-out? Awww, what a pity, you can't go with us--, you have no means to--" "O-ryo sama. They're also having that in secret. It's the same level as ours." As expected of Kasuga to point that out. She's merely a waitress, but her wit and cleverness is effective, and she is a hard-working Tanuki girl. I also unintentionally asked her to do errands and what not here and there. "Ah..." Kasuga turned her head towards us again, but stopped whatever she was about to say.. No, not really, but when she looked at us, it seemed that she looked at Chiaki-san who was beside us. Chiaki-san didn't seem to move a bit, but he just lazily smiled.

Inside Gintengai, the riverside were lined up with food carts, and it was the busiest corner. It was the place were middle-aged men gathered after work before returning home. The fowl grilling place had three open seats, and we each ordered our favorite liquor and had them heated and poured for us**. "Ahh, it's nice to have some barbecued fowl every now and then in these food carts." T/N: Yeah I know it's weird but sake or rice liquor is actually drunk either warmed up or at room temperature, I don't know why though, maybe to help the alcohol evaporate IDK because normally beers and wines are chilled then served, but hey, it is what it is lol. Also I just translated the fowl, or poultry from the generic term 鳥=tori because it can range from chicken to duck to turkey to exotic birds like guinea fowls and peahens. Like the offal hot pot, we can only guess what they were grilling here. I'd call duck and chicken lol P153 "Yeah, I agree. Waka-danna sama, whenever you're free you always go to Yugao, don't you? Every now and then let's get together, please?" "Yes, well, I'm here now, am I?" After seeing that the Waka-danna sama seems to be in good spirits, Chiaki-san requested to the Oyaji** "Ah, I'll have the chicken wings and scallion skewers. Everything plain salted." "I'll... Have the gizzards with scallions, plain salted, as well as some liver with dipping sauce, please." "I'll have the parson's nose** and some chicken meatloaf, with the skin. With dipping sauce." While the liquor bottles were being heated, we had a chat. The barbecued chicken that they were cooking soon gave off a delicious smell. "To be honest, it was a good thing that Waka-danna sama has returned to Tenjin-ya. During the time that Waka-danna sama was away, Tenjin-ya was in trouble. Akatsuki, somehow everyday acts like a little girlfriend running around saying 'We need you Waka-danna sama, please come hooome--'. That image has been burned inside my head." "What?" "Wait, Chiaki-san!" Well, the Waka-danna sama's usual workload isn't run of the mill, it's like it left a void. However suprised the Waka-danna sama looked, his blank face looked at mine. "Uhm.. That is..Somehow, the front desk's work is sustained by the Waka-danna sama, and I happened to experience that personally." T/N: Oyaji=usually the dude who owns the establishment, they normally cook and grill and stuff. Their waifus handle the cashiers. Also srsly these dudes know their fowl well, especially Akatsuki. I mean, chicken butt/parson's nose is full of that fatty cholesterol-filled goodness, as well as the skin wahhh now I want some of these too T__T P154 I was muttering my embarassing thoughts as my greasy sweat overflowed. That busy time has been pardoned already... speaking of, when the grilled skewers were done, I ate them hungrily. Ah, even the cartilage tastes good. "Akatsuki... It's unfortunate to have experienced those troubles, wasn't it?" "Ehrmm.. yeah." Waka-danna sama seemed to have gotten quiet, and I was so embarassed I couldn't say anything. I drank the sake bit by bit. "Well, anyways.. Waka-danna sama is awesome though. It's because while planning activities and managing Tenjin-ya, you were also said to be assigned to the internal affairs of Kimon. You were also looking after anything that troubles the Odanna-sama's fiancee. If it was me I couldn't handle it. I already find it hard just taking care of the ogre kids." While Chiaki-san was talking, the topic shifted to Aoi. "Ah, ahahaha. I wasn't looking after Aoi-san, I just let her do what she wanted, I think that's the right thing to do.. And because Aoi-san is a dependable person, it came to the extent that she helped me. Even now, with the souvenir products that Tenjin-ya asked Dr. Saraku to make, she's still doing her best to help with it, it seems... She's really awesome." Waka-danna seemed to have remembered something, and silently laughed, before ordering another bottle of sake. That guy, isn't he a bit harsh... P155 "I don't normally work with Aoi-san so I don't understand but, she's somewhat special, that granddaughter of Shirou's." "Yes, that is, Aoi-san is an amazing person. Aoi-san's cooking. Say Akatsuki. Somehow in the beginning Akatsuki was harsh with Aoi-san, but now you're part of the Yugao gang, aren't you?" "Eh? No, uhm...." "Oh, you're pausing with your words, you're hesitating. You weren't objecting that time, Akatsuki.." "..." Someday, when you make fun of me again, I'll be prepared. But, I need to think how can I deal with this now... When these guys bring up that topic again after a while, I'll change to make quick and sleek comebacks. "Certainly I go eat Aoi's cooking since it's a great way to end the working day, but compared to me, O-ryo goes there to a greater extent, doesn't she? To think that she tried killing Aoi before!" "Ah, ahaha. For sure, O-ryo san has now become less snappy and harsh... She goes to Yugao and pesters Aoi-san a lot. After that Kasuga-san also goes a lot to Yugao too." After that, instantly, it seems that Waka-danna sama remembered a lot of things about O-ryo and Kasuga. "Speaking of Kasuga-san, until now she still calls O-ryo as O-ryo sama? Even though she has already lost the position of Waka-Okami she still calls her as such." P156 "It's because Kasuga likes O-ryo. It's because ever since Kasuga started working in Tenjin-ya, she always bothered O-ryo san to look after her because she doesn't know anything." "Really, is that so? Isn't Kasuga-san and Chiaki relatives?" "Uhm, yes, yes we are..." Good, the topic has changed smoothly. Being tipsy, Waka-danna sama and Chiaki-san started talking about Kasuga and O-ryo. I was relieved, and added an order of thighs and chicken meatloaf from Oyaji. I really love meatloaf... "Oh, right, Chiaki-san, aren't you about to say something about that Kasuga?" When I asked him about it, Chiaki-san's face got all stiff for a moment. It was weird, for that person to have that face. But immediately after that, his usual sloppy face went back. "Ah, it's probably due to tomorrow's stuff." "Tomorrow?" "Tomorrow, we have to go back home. Also, it's something important." Oh, it's true, because they were going back home, he didn't lie to the girls when he was invited. But it's weird how he said it. Could it be that he doesn't want to go back home? P157 "Isn't Waka-danna sama going back to Orio-ya?" "What, why?" "But that's what going home means, right? When you don't have a village to go back to. Don't you have an older brother?" Waka-danna sama only waved his hands in front of him, with regards to Chiaki-san's unsophisticated question.

“No, no, that, uhm.. Right now it's a bother to go home. Right, Akatsuki?" "Why is the conversation swayed to me?" When it comes to a home, I have no such place. I have been born and raised in Utsushiyo, my only living relative is in there right now, my younger sister... "That much- How is my nose stupid?" In an instant, the drunk and wasted middle-aged Tengu nearby started making a racket, and he hit me with a hot sake bottle by mistake. "..." What the heck is this? As I was staring fixatedly, I got lost in time. While looking at the Tengu who got caught in the moment, my former boss Hatori-san, the current head receptionist of our rival inn, and previously when the Tengus became violent in the front desk I recalled the memories, and I got angry. I wanted to tear out all of the feathers of the middle-aged Tengu, but Waka-danna sama and Chiaki-san P158 pacified me "Woah, woah there, Akatsuki", and nevertheless I peacefully settled down. I went back to drinking in desperation. When the other sempai noticed it they just start talking. It’s mainly due to Hatori-san. A lot of things happened, and the night grew late.

"Tch, I drank too much. Waka-danna sama is too tough..." Upon returning to the males' dorms, while my drunk head was spinning around, I entered the men's baths. I splashed on water to wash off the liquor smell, then opened the sliding doors to my room and burst inside, and collapsed on the futon that I kept lying around. My room is at the top floor of the males' dorms. As the head receptionist I was given my own flat, and I wasn't roommates with anyone. Ah, the cool breeze feels great. I went and opened the veranda's door, and I looked at Kakuriyo's faintly darkened evening sky. "Hoo-hoo. It's the hoot of the underworld's night owl." "Hmm.. what?" From the veranda a single owl feather flew inside, and somehow plopped down, and I went inside the room again. "What is this.. A letter for me?" It was a momiji-patterned stationery. I haven't received a letter for a long time. P159 A red stamp was attached, this was exclusively used by the underworld's postal service that goes between Utsushiyo and Kakuriyo. The sender is... "Suzuran" In one breath, I got sobered up. This was my younger sister, Suzuran's letter. I stood up and pulled out a pair of scissors, and cut the seal.

"Akatsuki-niisan, it has been a long time. Are you busy everyday? I'm worried about niisan, don't work too hard and neglect taking care of your health. Are you eating nutritious food? Are you sleeping enough?"

What the, her opening was only about her worries. Don't worry Suzuran, about your brother. That detestable Shirou's granddaughter's food, I eat those everyday and get healthier. It's full of nutrients as well as delicious. I'm not miserable.

"Akatsuki-niisan may be blunt and crude, but he's really very sweet, are you on good terms with Aoi-san right now? Did I guess that right?" P160 "What the heck." That woman Suzuran. I don't understand why she's on good terms with Aoi, but for sure, she's saying nice things about her because they bonded during the time she stayed here. My sister by blood, she forsees just about everything.

"While I was taking care of Shirou-san's tombstone, I was also looking after the businesses of the people in Utsushiyo. When the Ayakashi living here come and wreck Shirou-san's tombstone, I grow into a larger body, you know? Everybody flees, when they see my Jorougumo** form."

"Oh, goodness, so that's it..." Even I was, when she powerfully threw me out of Tenjin-ya, her powers were quite strong...

"I love niisan, who works his best as a receptionist at Tenjin-ya. But please, don't be too excessive. Take some time to rest. Because niisan dislikes taking a break. You also dislike having fun with girls every now and then."

"Stop it. Leave me alone." T/N: So while Akatsuki is a spider demon- a tsuchigumo=土蜘蛛 that burrows underground like a tarantula, his sister Suzuran is an orb weaver spider demon, a jorougumo=女郎蜘蛛 that hangs on trees. No wonder Akatsuki's mini-form looks so pudgy and cute gwahahaha especially the cute skull on his abdomen. Try searching for that image, when Suzuran beat the crap out of him and he got weak AF wahahaha poor bean P161 "Suzuran always thinks of niisan during the dawn**. Please take care."

After reading the letter, I suddenly laughed at my younger sister's noisy wordings. The letter you sent had composure, as such, from where you are, you're also in good health. While protecting the tombstone of Shirou, whom you love. "..." Instantly, from the edges I saw a reddish ray of light, and as I opened the sliding screen, I looked at the early morning sky. Oh, I get it... The wonderful early morning sky. She said dawn, as it was my name. "Today... That's it. I'll write back Suzuran a very casual letter." Since she has left Kakuriyo, I'll write up everything that has happened in here since then. Also, while by tired body already had its rest, it's fine to do my best at work again. T/N: Akatsuki's name is literally "daybreak", not like them Orochimaru peeps lol

End of Intermission 2, Volume 6. Previous - Chapter 4. Next - Chapter 5

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Other stuff I used to do this: Kodansha Kanji Learner’s Dictionary (you can buy here, I’m not sponsored btw). I was about to buy the older edition but then the newer one came out 2013 so I bought that instead. Worth buying since I was able to find nearly all of the words I needed just by stroke pattern alone.

Merriam-Webster's Japanese-English Dictionary (the red-covered 1996 version is apparently out of print right now). This is what I have been using for a very long time, I bought it when I was still a fetus (yes I am old so what lol), and after so many years, when compared to newer editions, I still prefer this one since its entirety is Japanese-English, the English to Japanese gloss are just 16 pages tops, so you get more Japanese words for your buck. But that’s just my opinion, maybe other people prefer the Jap-En x En-Jap IDEK.

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations  and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.

#kakuriyo no yadomeshi #kakuriyo no yadomeshi light novel #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 intermission 2 #kakuriyo no yadomeshi light novel english fan translation #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 intermission 2 fan translation #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 english translation

[izcana]

Purely Platonic, Of Course...

Inspired by What Minho Thinks by skyofstardust. In response to a prompt by alicewonder87 in the quoteonlyprompts collection.

Originally Posted on Ao3 (My Ao3 account here).

Prompt:

"It's a blessing and a curse that love is blind."

***

"You're kidding me," Minho groaned, flopping down to his bed.

"Stop bloody complaining, Minho," I muttered from next to him. "He'll get the hint eventually." I was really starting to regret agreeing to help Minho with this. I mean, sure, when I agreed, I was trying to stop his obnoxious pining of the poor boy, but I didn't expect it would be this hard! To be honest, I didn't expect Minho to be this whiny, either, but I was foolish not to suspect. However, I have dedicated myself to doing it and I will.

Being me is utterly exhausting.

Thomas wasn't going to know what's hit him when Minho finally asks him out.

I could see the longing in both of their eyes – pity they themselves couldn't see it. Thomas was oblivious to default, according to his sister Teresa, but Minho was being unbelievably dumb about it. I think he was too caught up in his own pining to notice the other's crush on him.

I was going to have to do something about it, I guess. After all, when do shuck-faces learn how to solve their own problems?

Yeah, that's what I thought. When pigs fly. Now I wish there were flying pigs...

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"Okay, I'm going to seduce the klunk out of Bambi," Minho declared, his head set in a grim nod. He rolled up his sleeves (my tip, of course – show off the muscles) and licked his lips. "Thomas wouldn't know what hit him," he added. Yeah, hopefully.

I have to admit, I could see why Minho was attracted to him. Tommy was a mess, that's for sure, but he was a cute mess, a type of clumsy that made you want to wrap him in blankets instead of scolding him. Thomas has plump, pouty lips and bright amber eyes that look exactly like Bambi's. He had adorable messy, ruffled chocolate hair and pale, mole-dotted skin. I'm saying this in a friendly way, of course; I have a boyfriend and besides, Minho would kill me if I stole his boy.

Pity Thomas was the most insecure person I've ever met.

I've had to tell him countless times he was pretty and it was getting slightly frustrating how he couldn't see himself as amazing. Again, I say this as a best friend, but I hope Minho could get his wits together and swoon him. Maybe Minho could knock some sense into him and give him a boost of self-confidence – Alby certainly gave me a lot.

Anyway, back to Minho.

"Hey, Tomboy," Minho drawled, slapping on his signature smirk.

"Hi?" The fellow Gryffindor student mumbled, putting on a shy smile. "What are you doing here, Minho?"

"I want to tell you how ravishing you look today!" Minho beamed. I mentally facepalmed. Why couldn't Minho just stick to the script and ask him out to Hogsmeade? Why, just why did Minho have to make my job more difficult than it is?

Thomas went scarlet at that, his milky skin flushing red. "T-Thank you," Thomas said brightly, beaming back. If anything, I appreciate Thomas' optimism and happiness. He was a glowing beacon every day, shining in the moonlight as a guide for us. The Gladers (my friends, duh) call me "the Glade Mother", but if anything, I'm in charge of the fussing but Thomas does the counselling and tutoring. We all saw him as innocent and naive (don't tell him we said that) but he was the best at advice, somehow. Maybe because he seemed to understand everything – that boy was too kind for his own good.

"Well, just take that from me," Minho winked, jogging back to me, leaving behind a blushing Thomas.

******

"You're bloody kidding me, right?" I demanded, pushing him into a wall (I swear that isn't what it sounds like!) as soon as he jogged away. "You couldn't just ask him to Hogsmeade?" I thought my frustration bar was going to explode.

"He's just so...perfect!" Minho babbled as if he hadn't heard a single word I said. "Amazing, smart, kind and caring, pretty, selfless all in one! How was I supposed to ask him out?"

I groaned. "Minho, do me a favour and shut up, okay?" I think I've had enough of matchmaker drama for today.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

So. News reporter Newton Isaacs here. Today I'm going to tell the story of how Minho's jealousy caused him to make another move. He hasn't asked him out (yet) and he says he plans to, but I don't know.

Dammit, Minho, you're supposed to give me something to talk about here!

Anyway...Our rather interesting day started like this.

It was your classic sunny day with birds chirping and blue skies. This was unusual as it was October and anyone who's grown up in the UK knows October = rain. Obviously.

Minho and I got up to go to class, as usual, and it was all the same until midday.

******

"Isaacs, Lee," Snape sneered, drawing the attention of all the students. "You're late."

"With all due respect, sir," Minho smirked, his tone not implying the same as his words. "We're 30 seconds late." Great, that's at least 10 points from Gryffindor.

"20 points from Gryffindor," Snape retorted predictably.

This class, we were learning how to boil the draught of living death. All was well until a small shriek cut off the class. We turned to the source of the shriek and to Minho's horror, Thomas' hand was covered with potion and it was starting to peel, the red flesh beneath it sprouting sores. It made my stomach churn, and it certainly looked painful.

"Edison, get that checked by Madam Pomfrey," Snape muttered, turning his head off. He means the medjack. I've always found it funny that Snape didn't treat Thomas, Teresa, Aris, or Rachel (Aris and Rachel were Tommy and Teresa's best friends) like he did the other non-Slytherins. Maybe it was because they were so...academically perfect that Snape couldn't find an adequate reason to be rude, I don't know. "Jones, you go with him."

"Adequate", "academically perfect". I think Tommy's rubbing off me with his nerdiness.

"Yes, Professor," Thomas whispered breathlessly, his voice cutting through the pin-drop silence.

"C'mon, dude," Aris Jones, the ever-loyal friend of Tommy beckoned, giving him a hand up. I could tell that it was purely platonic (anyone with eyes could, in fact), but Minho was the verge of rage from his (misplaced) jealousy. After watching Minho, I can definitely tell where the expression "if looks could kill..." comes from; Minho's dark, stormy eyes were a sight to behold.

"Mate," I chastised. "Stop being so...jealous! It's a friendly touch!"

"No, it wasn't!" Minho seethed, gritting his teeth so hard I heard them cracking.

I sighed. Minho should just ask Thomas out already.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Hey, Thomas!" Minho called across the courtyard again, drawing the stare of a couple of dozen students in, mostly Hufflepuffs who were playing catch-the-ball on the lawn. I mentally prayed that he'd take the chance and ask the boy out already.

"Hi, Minho," Thomas said, albeit softer than Minho. "How are you doing?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Minho asked, shifting to where Thomas was sitting. It was still close enough that I could hear, though it was considerably more discrete now that the Hufflepuffs had gone back to playing their game. "You're the one who was injured in Potions, after all."

"It's okay," Thomas murmured. I didn't miss how Minho's eyes danced over the streak of rebellious hair that fell to his forehead, or the occasional glances to the cupid brow lips. It was frankly amazing that Thomas hadn't noticed. "Madam Pomfrey sorted it out."

"Thank goodness," Minho muttered, glancing to Thomas' hand.

They both sat in silence for a few moments and I was tempted to go and smack them both around the head, but I figured it'd go better if I didn't interfere.

"W-Would you like to go to H-Hogsmeade with me n-next weekend?" Minho stuttered out, and to his benefit, he didn't blush.

Thomas definitely did, though. "O-Of course!"

Good for them – they finally got together, but I just wish they did it sooner. I guess it's just like what they say: "It's a blessing and a curse that love is blind."

I think my work here is finished. Matchmaking was pretty entertaining, after all. Maybe I should get Aris and Teresa together as well...

#matchmaker newt #the maze runner x harry potter #crossover #thominho harry potter AU #Alternate Universe - Harry Potter #thomas x minho #tmr #newt #alby #nalby #teresa is thomas' twin #newt's pov #aris jones #teresa agnes (edison) #thominho #ao3