#*tucks ace flag in back pocket*

[taizi]

If you're taking prompts and like this one might I request Sabo's pov on 'if I go I'm going on fire?'

That fic absolutely floored me it was so incredibly good. I just had to lie there and process it. But I can't stop thinking about how afraid Sabo must be that Ace will be angry but it would never stop him from going to try to help Ace, who doesn't even know he's not the last of the three...regardless if you want to write this I just had to tell you how much I loved it!

quite the keeper of you

read on ao3

x

When Sabo was fished up out of the sea as a child, all he had to his name were the clothes on his back and an ancient monocular telescope tucked safely away in his inner coat pocket. And that was all he had. And when he woke up initially, he was half out of his mind, hysterical, begging not to go back to wherever he’d come from. So for all he knew, he wasn’t leaving anything worthwhile behind. 

It’s a sick joke. He’s waiting for someone to pull the curtain back and laugh, to let him in on it. 

“You’re my brother!” Straw Hat screams, claiming Portgas D. Ace for the whole world to hear, plunging headlong into a war like it didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else. The broadcast is shaky, grainy, but Sabo can still see the way Fire Fist’s face crumples in terror and anger and something specific to older siblings—something Sabo’s heart recognizes in that split-second.

Did you know? If you share a cup of sake, that makes you—

Sabo stands frozen, his brain on fire, the rest of his body encased in ice. Images were crowding forward; a rainforest with rich, colorful foliage and giant beasts, a bandit hut that was always waiting for them when they decided to give into the elements and slink inside for the night, a junkyard they picked through for treasures, though it took forever nowadays, because one of them always had to look after the little crybaby and make sure he didn’t drag something stupid home. 

A kingdom square, unkind faces looking down on them. A treehouse where they could see for miles. A tiny body crawling under his blanket during a storm, and the automatic way Sabo put his arm around them, mumbling without waking up all the way, “This is the last time, Lu.”

For a moment, in the footage, it looks like they’ll get away. They’re running to the wharf, backed on all sides by allies, and Sabo finds himself holding his breath. Straw Hat is beginning to flag, but Fire Fist has a firm hand wrapped around his arm, is pulling him resolutely towards the sea. 

Then for some reason, he stops. He whirls to face Akainu, face distended in a snarl. 

No, no, no, you idiot, Sabo thinks with a fury that nearly blinds him. What are you doing, keep running, freedom is right behind you! 

You idiot, come on!

When there’s an enemy in front of me, I won’t run. 

When it happens, Ace is seconds too slow to stop it, an arm’s length away, his face the picture of horror. All around Sabo, the air goes out of the room with an audible sound, everyone sucking in a short, pained breath. 

“Oh, no,” Koala whispers, putting her hand on his wrist. “Sabo, I know you really liked him. I’m sorry.”

Her sympathy is genuine and meaningful—she liked that rookie pirate, too. It’s impossible not to like him. His devil-may-care, take-no-shit attitude, how daring and reckless and joyful he was as he threw himself into each new corner of the world. Sabo always found himself gravitating towards Straw Hat’s Wanted posters the same way he did Fire Fist’s. He always lingered to look at their faces an extra second. He never knew why.

And now Straw Hat is—

This means that from now on, the three of us will always be—

The broadcast starts to shake. The transponder snail is curling and shriveling away from what must be an intense heat. A Devil Fruit awakens on Marineford, broadcast to the world, as Fire Fist Ace lights up like a supernova and cremates everything in front of him. The man who killed his brother dies in seconds. His own allies are pushed far away, back and back and back. No one is able to reach him. 

And he’s screaming. When the transmission ends abruptly, Sabo can still hear him screaming. 

He’s weak, and a crybaby, but he’s still our little brother. Look after him for me. 

##

When Sabo boards the Moby Dick, he’s alone. He sailed in a straight line from Baltigo to intercept the Whitebeards without waiting for approval or permission from anyone. He didn’t even requisition the cutter, he just took it.

Less than two weeks after the Summit War, it’s a grave-faced group that greets him on the ship. Sabo doesn’t see the gargantuan figure of their captain abovedeck, so he casts around reflexively with observation haki and deduces that he must be resting in his quarters. 

“What business does a Revolutionary have here?” Marco the Phoenix asks, with as much veiled threat as Sabo expected, though decidedly less than he deserves. 

“Fire Fist,” Sabo says. All around him, hackles go up. “I’m here to speak with him.”

“He’s not exactly seeing visitors at the moment,” Marco grits out. 

“He’ll see me,” Sabo replies, as steady and solid as a rock face that the ocean crashes against. He speaks as if his hands aren’t shaking, as if there isn’t a pit in his stomach that it’s hard to breathe around, as if he feels anything else but cold.

It takes four minutes for Portgas D. Ace to appear. He walks like a puppet, something recently brought to life that is still figuring out its autonomy. His eyes are dark and endless and if there’s a spark left in them at all, Sabo can’t see it from where he’s standing. Ace turns his head and picks Sabo from the crowd as the outlier remarkably fast, hardly needing haki to do it. 

It takes four seconds for confusion to surface through the apathy, hints of it touching Ace’s face; the narrowing of his eyes, the downward turn of his mouth. And then it’s six seconds after that for understanding to set in, a swift river rush of it, followed by a tiny little silverfish dart of wonder. And then grief and rage trample over everything else, hand-in-hand. 

Ace is on top of him an instant later. It’s a full-body tackle, and they go rolling across the deck in the type of knockdown, drag-out brawl that Sabo only just remembers from another life. It was like learning how to swim by jumping in the deep end—the wild boy from the forest had taught Sabo how to fight as if his life was on the line. They skipped things like how to tuck in your elbows and untuck your thumbs. Ace’s lessons involved finding the soft underbelly of your opponent and digging into it with tooth and nail. 

The accident at sea that stole his memories away took those lessons, too, but his body remembered them. And while formal training with the Army was much different than wrestling with his brother in the woods, Sabo always had a bit of a nasty streak his teachers despaired over.

“You don’t have to bite,” he remembers Hack saying with measured patience. “This is a class, not life-or-death.”

Of course it is, Sabo had found himself on the verge of snapping. If I don’t fight for my life, someone else will take it. If we don’t fight for each other, no one else will. 

But he didn’t know where the thought had come from. And he was discomfited by the way his instructors were watching him, and the way Koala stared at him, at the smear of blood left on the corner of his mouth, like she suddenly saw something in his face that she recognized in herself. So he didn’t say anything at all.

Now he knows. Ace showed him how to protect himself in a brutal, bloody, final way, because Ace loved him enough to want him to exist at any cost. Live, those lessons taught him. Survive. 

Voices cry out and feet stamp around like people are trying to get close enough to tear them apart—but Ace’s fire shoves his crewmates back, a wall of snapping, snarling teeth that towers above Sabo from all sides. 

It licks against him without burning. Ace’s hands are another story. He’s hitting to hurt.

Sabo absorbs every blow, and even when his face is tender and swelling and his lip is bleeding, it still doesn’t feel like enough. 

Ace clutches the front of his waistcoat and hauls him half upright, expression twisted into something bleak and hateful. It’s the way he looked at Sabo when they were children and still strangers to each other. The first time they were strangers to each other.

“If you were going to come back from the dead, it should have been for him,” Ace snarls. “What the fuck are you doing here? What’s the fucking point now?”

I should have been there is on the tip of Sabo’s tongue, but it seems a waste of breath to say something everyone already knows. I’m sorry surfaces next, is the obvious right thing, but what he actually says is, “I had to come.”

His voice is just barely more than a whisper. Ace’s face only screws up more. 

Ten years ago, it would have gone without saying. Maybe they wouldn’t have needed to speak at all. The only person in the world who really understood Sabo, who could look him in the eye and practically read his mind, was his best friend. His twin brother. 

But now he’s staring at Sabo like he’s never seen any creature like him before. 

“I had to,” Sabo chokes out. “Ace, I had to.”

Even if you hate me, he doesn’t say. You’re my brother. I’ll always come for you. 

Ace drops him. Sabo’s head hits the deck with a solid knock, his brain ringing inside his skull like a gong. He’s still waiting for his double vision to clear when Ace lays down next to him. Their shoulders are touching, and even when Sabo’s starts to shake with the force of his sobbing, Ace stays pressed against his side. 

Their shoulders are touching, and the fire, when it finally closes in, still doesn’t burn. 

##

“I’m stepping down,” Ace says suddenly. “From the Whitebeards.”

Sabo rolls his head to the side to look at him. Ace goes on staring up at the sky and doesn’t look back. They’re still sprawled on the deck. Ace’s crewmates have been giving the brothers a wide berth since they stopped seemingly trying to kill each other but a wary few of them are still lingering nearby. If they’re close enough to overhear, they don’t give any indication. 

“The Straw Hats,” Ace says, “Luffy’s people. They’re monsters, like us. They love the way monsters love. They’re gonna drag as much of the World Government down to hell with them as they can. I’m going, too.”

He lifts his hand, holding it out above him. It ignites, merry orange flames crackling from his skin, sending shadows flickering across his blank face. Then all the color bleeds away until it’s a ghostly thing, shock white with hints of blue, and the packed heat becomes searing and uncomfortable. It superheats the air like a flash fire; Sabo can feel it in his lungs, but he doesn’t move away. 

Luffy burned. His last breath was agony, choked with smoke. There isn’t a force on this planet that could hurt Sabo as much as knowing that. If the fire in Ace’s hand leaped over and caught him and he went up like rice paper, it wouldn’t even come close. 

“Don’t want my name attached to Pops anymore,” Ace goes on. “Don’t want him claiming the consequences for my choices this time.”

Sabo asks, “What did he say?”

“Called me a stupid kid,” Ace recounts like it’s something that happened to someone else. “Said I could go as far away as I wanted for as long as I wanted and my family would be still waiting for me when I decided to come back home.”

There’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile. It’s some distant cousin of wry humor but not the real thing. Sabo gets the joke—“come back home.” As if that’s a place that exists anymore. 

“I told my boss the same thing,” he offers, “more or less.”

His conversation with Dragon was less a conversation and more the total destruction of the communications room. Sabo doesn’t remember all of it. He does remember the rawness of his throat, the leftover ache of screaming, “Why weren’t you there? Why weren’t we there?” and the splinters in his hands from the broken furniture he’d hurled at the walls. 

“I’m on sabbatical,” Sabo says mildly.

Ace finally turns to look at him. He’s different from Sabo’s recovered memories of him. He’s different from his Wanted posters, even. Gone is that proud, angry little boy, and that devilishly grinning pirate. He was a big brother before he was anything else, and now he isn’t that anymore. It’s carved a hole into him, scooping out the golden, shining parts that it took years to cultivate. All that’s left is the burnt remains of something once wild and beautiful. 

He could be all those things again, Sabo thinks. If he tried. If he leaned on the support and love of his crew. If he let himself hurt and then let himself heal. If Sabo were a better person, he would make Ace try. 

But he isn’t. Sabo is burnt remains, too. 

“Pops told Luffy’s monsters it was suicide,” Ace says. “He says there’s no way we can accomplish what we want to do. He doesn’t get it.”

“No,” Sabo agrees, not unkindly. “But he will.”

Life is a series of lessons. 

Sabo taught his brothers how to steal, how to be cunning—how to slip through High Town in their ratty shoes and dirty clothes like they were invisible, the way he learned to maneuver the mansion his parents lived in. Ace taught them how to fight bigger, stronger people—how to go for the soft, unguarded places, how to dig in with your teeth until you won. 

Luffy taught them, too. Every single day. How to be silly. How to laugh at themselves. How to face the day like it was an adventure instead of a challenge. How to pry open the guarded cages of their hearts so that it became possible for other people to sneak in there down the road. How to dream huge, impossible dreams, and go on dreaming them even when no one believed in you but you. 

This, their stubborn little brother showed them, day after day after day, grin stretching beneath a straw hat that Sabo would never get to watch him grow into, hands always open and reaching for them, is what you fight for. 

And the Marines thought they had any right to touch him. To take him. To drive a fist through the heart of the one purely good thing in this world. The audacity leaves Sabo breathless. 

“There are battles we have to lose,” Dragon had said, sitting in the middle of a ruined room like he’d been chiseled from stone, the beginnings of a terrible, pitch-black storm in his eyes, “in order to win the war.”

But there was no such thing as winning now. Not for Sabo, or Ace, or the Straw Hats. There was only taking as many of those people down as they possibly could, and making it bloody, and making it brutal, and leaving behind something that it would be impossible to ever forget. Something historians would discuss only in whispers for the next hundred years. 

They’ll remember him, Sabo thinks, eyes roaming away from Ace, back towards the sky. Maybe there are stars up there tonight, maybe the moon is full and beautiful. All he sees is the blackness in between, the empty space. We’ll make them remember. We’ll teach them what it means to do what they’ve done. 

And then they would finally see their little brother again, and they would tell him all about it. 

#one piece #opfic #asl bros #revolutionary sabo #portgas d ace #my writing #prompt #anonymous #op #quite the keeper of you #ouch :') #no one is doing well #one more part after this one !

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello! This is my first time sending a request umm kinda nervous. May I request headcanons of first year gang spending summer holiday with MC/Yuu? Thank you very much!

🏖 Beach time...!! 🏝

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Ace is the kind of guy that’ll mercilessly splash you with water when you step in the sea. And if you refuse to? Well, that’s what water guns and water balloons are for, right? He’ll lure you close by claiming he has “something cool” he wants to show you, then attack when your guard is down!!

He brings along a beach ball, and the first years bop it around to see who can keep it in the air the longest! Ace cheats a bit by using his wind magic to send the ball afloat again just as it’s about to touch the sand—

Ace innocently buries his friends’ feet in sand for fun. He waits until Deuce has fallen asleep on his beach towel before burying his entire body (excluding the head!) in sand, all while snickering to himself.

Ace likes to make his own fun! He finds a few scallop shells, still intact, along with a shiny pebble or washed up pearl, and decides to make a guessing game out of it! He tucks the pebble or pearl under a shell and mixes the shells up, then asks you to try and find the pebble/pearl! If you do, you can keep it—and if not, you owe him lunch!

When he spots a wild crab at the beach, Ace will take a stick and try provoking it! “Why does Floyd even call me a crab anyway, I don’t get it,” he’ll grumble—until he screeches because that darn crab pinched him...!! Ace tries yanking the crab off, but it’s so stubborn! He eventually does, but he follows it up with a vow to hunt down all crabs and eat them to show them what for!

Hop onto Deuce’s Magical Wheel for a ride to the beach! (He drives kind of like a mad man, so hold on tight!!) As you race down the road and toward the sand and sparkling waters, the beachy breeze whips through your hair and welcomes you.

Despite how serious Deuce looks, all his beach gear is cute--especially his towel! It’s nice and fluffy, with a bunch of baby chicks on it. You can’t help but let Deuce know how fitting the design is for him.

He reminds the other first years (mainly Ace and Epel) to respect the rules of the beach! Every so often, you’ll see Deuce apologizing to the lifeguard for some minor thing he has done which might have violated the rules. Other times, you’ll see Deuce trying to copy the lifeguard’s gestures and mannerisms—after all, lifeguards are basically beach police! Now’s a good time to learn from them.

Deuce finds an anemone washed up to the shore and guiltily nudges it back into the sea. He’s eager to avoid any and all reminders of his unsavory deal with Octavinelle...!! Besides, Deuce is sure the anemone would be happier to be with its family again.

He loves lighting up sparklers! He’ll crouch on the sand and light them for hours on end with this amazed look on his face. Deuce just thinks there’s something really magical about how they burn. Someday, he wants to have strength like sparklers—magic that provide warmth and light in the darkness.

Jack enjoys being in the water! He’s the first to dive into the ocean to cool off. When the time comes to get out, it’s fun to see Jack shaking off water from his fluffy ears and tail! You can help him dry off the excess with a towel, too (but getting the sand out of his fur can be a hassle)!

He has the tendency to bark and chase off seagulls when they try to land nearby. Part of it is they give him “the same vibes as Rook-senpai”, and part of it is that the nice guy in him worries the seagulls might eat something they aren’t supposed to by accident. If you tell Jack he’s being so considerate, he’ll brush it off with an embarrassed blush.

He likes to take long walks along the beach and see what washes up! You’re free to join him, as long as you’re not disruptive. If Jack finds a cool shell, piece of glass, or rock, he’ll pocket it to use as a decorative piece for his cacti back in his dorm room.

Jack excels in watermelon smashing! He has the strength to crack them open in one swing, and the senses to locate the fruit’s location every time, even when blindfolded or with his eyes closed (Ace cries foul, but Jack can’t really help his heightened beastman senses)!

He acts like kind of the disappointed parent of the group, trying to keep everyone together and under control even though they’re hyped up on the excitement of being at the beach. It’s like Jack has invisible child leashes on the other first years!

Before Epel’s allowed to hang out with you, Vil has to make sure he has put on his sunscreen! Epel gets called away every few hours to reapply sunscreen, no matter what activity you’re in the middle of. He grumbles about Vil under his breath, but don’t let his Dorm Leader know!

He likes to make mounds of sand and then pretend he’s a big monster or an Overblot as he kicks the sand piles over. It’s even more fun when you or Deuce join in--more sand piles, and more stomping!

Leave the grilling to him! Epel’s not that skilled at making fancy food, but grilling’s quick and simple to grasp. He likes to use applewood to impart a slightly sweet, smoky flavor in everything he grills—meat, veggies, even marshmallows!

Epel drags everyone into a bunch of competitive games! Volleyball (Sebek and Jack aggressively spiking the ball back and forth, resulting in a tie), beach flag races (Deuce comes close, but Jack cinches the win) water basketball (Ace kills the competition)...!! Though Epel’s a little salty he won nothing, he ends up rolling in the sand with laughter by the end of it all.

Epel wears a swimming parka over himself (Vil’s orders to protect his delicate skin), so many other beachgoers mistake him as a girl covering up her swimsuit! He tries to contain his temper despite all the catcalls and whistles he gets, but Epel eventually blows up, strips his parka off to reveal his trunks, and shouts, “I’M A MAN, A M-A-N!!” to everyone, just to make it crystal clear.

If you ever lose Ace, Deuce, or Epel, you can count on Sebek to call out loud enough to part the beachgoing crowd for you to find your missing kids! He’ll nag them for going astray, too.

Sebek’s no artist, but he’ll happily take a stick and draw pictures in the sand while boasting about the young master’s accomplishments! He can throw in some stories about Lilia-sama’s triumphs in combat too, if you wish!!

He also tries his hand at making a sand sculpture in Malleus’s name, but almost has a heart attack when the tide comes in and attacks his monument for the young master (his words, not yours)! Sebek stands guard and shouts at the sea to ward it off when the tide returns.

Like an idiot, Sebek decides to inhale as much food as he can (he wants to enjoy this experience!!). Unfortunately, he also makes the poor choice of including shaved ice on the menu, so he ends up with a terrible brain freeze. Everyone consoles him as he recovers over time...

Sebek’s a huge dork when it comes to fireworks! He audibly “oohs”, “aahs”, and claps whenever colorful displays light up the night sky. When he sees a particularly impressive firework, he’ll point it out to you and the other first years, begging you guys to look at it too!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Epel Felmier #Jack Howl #Sebek Zigvolt #curiouser and curiouser #disney twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter 5: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate. 

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1539

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail  polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes. 

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic. 

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood. 

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered  being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.” 

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

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#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogical #analogicalweek #analogical week #virgil sanders #logan sanders #collab #collaboration

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost 

↣ inspired by @haik-choo​’s post 

↣ wc: 2.4k

↣ warnings: emotional pain, swearing, mentions of sex (not outright anything).

↣ format: mixed

↣  song recommendation:  5 Seconds of Summer - Lover Of Mine &  5 Seconds Of Summer - Ghost Of You

↣  preamble: atsumu miya never understands what he has until its too late. from a young age, he only focused on his own satisfaction and accordingly, his own pleasure. the only reason your relationship was able to stand the test of time was solely because of your accommodating nature. but sometimes, it still hurts… the lack of appreciation. would he truly care if you stopped leaving him little love notes in your shared apartment? would he notice if you stopped keeping pace with him during your morning walks? did he even care that you only woke up at the ungodly hour to spend more time with him? with those questions unanswered, some days you wonder if love should hurt this much.  

After winning five consecutive matches, a formal banquet was arranged to celebrate MSBY’s notable achievement. The guest-list was littered with numerous B list celebrities, with the occasional A lister promising to attend. What was originally planned to be a small gathering morphed into an evening gala that attracted media coverage, and a significant crowd. Some were desperate to secure an invite solely to catch a glimpse of one of the star players; while others were significantly more interested in the foreign chief that would be designing the menu for the function. Whatever the motivation, each attendee expelled an aura of excitement, one that was highly contagious. Accompanying the delectable atmosphere was a sugary scent wafting throughout the establishment. It was what Atsumu Miya deemed heaven on earth.

The blonde setter had the stem of a wineglass tucked between two fingers nonchalantly, occasionally swaying the maroon liquid as he surveyed those around him. He adored these gatherings for numerous reasons, one being the unnaturally attractive crowd it allured. Not that he planned on approaching any of them with nefarious intentions – he had a date after-all. The same one for the last four years. You. However, he refused to believe there was any harm in simply admiring from afar what he could have but chose not to. It provided him a rush of exhilaration, knowing that if he chose, he could secure the interest of any woman within the vicinity. Oh yes, if only they were so lucky. But alas, they were not. Simply having their attention and compliments was enough, he was disinterested in the satisfaction of sleeping with them. The truth was, while they were surely attractive, none of them would provide him the consistency that came neatly packaged with you. To be blunt, you were easy. Low maintenance, as he explained two nights ago to his brother. Even now, rather than remain glued to his side, you were somewhere in the crowd, mingling with someone unknown. He preferred it this way, and you knew it.

Half an hour before dinner was to be served, Atsumu was invited to take a shot with the MSBY Ace. Bokuto’s best friend refused to drink, vowing to return home early to complete a manuscript, and so he sought a new drinking buddy. But when he approached the setter, his thoughts of drinking were replaced with a newfound concern. Atsumu notified his team-mate that his hair required a quick touch up. His usual spikes were beginning to droop, resembling a withering flower.  

“Akaashi! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Tsum, do you have any gel?” A pout registered upon his lips as he attempted to sharpen the ends of his hair using his index finger and thumb. What if someone caught a photo of him appearing less than satisfactory? The Ace, ordinary or not, should appear extraordinary on a night dedicated to celebrating him (and his team-mates).

“I don’t think it looks that bad, Bokuto-san.” The black-haired writer shook his head, prior to bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips. Okay, maybe he could have something earlier. But to his defence, he had only noticed the imperfection now. With a wave of exhaustion weighing over his eyelids, he was less perceptive than usual.

“You know lying to him ain’t gonna fix the problem, right?” Atsumu shifted his narrowed gaze at Akaashi questioningly, something the other male did not appreciate. “And do you really have to ask? Of course, I do. Come on.” The blonde tapped against his lower jacket pocket, where a thin container of hair-serum was kept.

“I’m going to my seat. I’ll meet you there when you’re done.” The comment was directed solely at Bokuto, in a tone that indicated the writer would rather not spend any ‘quality’ time with the setter unless forced to. The brunette was not his biggest fan to say the least.

“I’ll be back soon.” He was well aware that his best friend and team-mate were not particularly fond of one another, placing distance was perhaps the best available option. Once the writer was no longer present, the pair began walking towards the bathroom. “Say… Tsum, where’s y/n?” Instinctively, the Ace’s golden irises searched the space around them for your familiar face.

“I dunno. Somewhere. I’m sure I’ll see her at the dinner table, since we’re sitting together.” The disinterest laced in his tone startled the other male, who failed to mask his bewilderment. Atsumu ignored the puzzlement that shined in his team-mate’s eyes, dismissing the action with a limp shrug before entering the bathroom first.

Bokuto trailed in a second later, pausing at the mirror with a hand extended forward. “You guys are really weird.”

Retrieving the container from his pouch, the blonde handed his team-mate the gel then began adjusting his own appearance, beginning by ushering aside some fallen strands. The observation that was offered only brought a little laugh to exit his mouth. “Yeah? Why do you say that?”

“You don’t act like a real couple.” Bokuto did not intend to respond immediately, particularly because he desired to avoid the stare he was now receiving through the mirror. The lack of hesitation was not well received by the MSBY setter.

“We don’t need to abide by norms to be a couple, Bokkun.” Despite the sour taste curling around his tongue, Atsumu managed to maintain a smile on his lips, finding humour in his own explanation.

“Alright, so is that why you haven’t proposed yet?” The white-haired Ace mentally scolded himself for his lack of restraint. He should have bit his tongue. Oh, if only he bit his tongue –

However, this was not the first time the question was posed to him. In fact, two days ago, it was exact topic that resulted in a very heated argument with his twin-brother. He truly did not understand why proposing was necessary. You both already lived together – was that not enough?

“It’s not that serious.” Tugging at his sleeves, the setter then adjusted his cufflinks. “I love her, but I’m not sure she’s the one. I don’t know if I can really give everything up forever, for her. For the time-being, I don’t mind. But I’m not giving everything up just yet.” The final sentence uttered by the blonde was more of an affirmation to himself, one that did not register well with his team-mate. It seemed that everyone but Atsumu could see how much you did for him. His unappreciated nature was rather toxic.

“That doesn’t sound like love, dude.”

No. It certainly did not.

They say that the truth will always be revealed sooner or later. Perhaps Atsumu Miya’s true feelings would have been revealed later, if he chose to lower his voice and restrict his sincerity. Had he known that you were outside, he certainly would have taken some precautions. But how could he have known that you were searching for him, when you ran into Akaashi? Who unfortunately knew exactly where he was?

How many warnings were issued by your friends over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? What would they say now? How many red flags did you ignore? 

How curious how easily you confused ache for butterflies.

The strain circling inside of your temples morphed into a throb as the liquid distorting your vision began spilling down your cheeks, dragging your mascara along with it. Behind you someone whispered your name, fear gripping their throat and muffling the sound. But you were unable to recognize who the voice belonged to, as you no longer held the luxury of having a stable state of mind.

Lifting your trembling fingers to the area below your eyelids, you stumbled attempting to discard the substance hanging on your lashes. “I need to go. I… Oh, I’m stupid. I just… I need to leave. Please.” Sluggishly, you shifted your body to face the person who addressed you earlier, seeking any aid that was offered. You couldn’t face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I know. Come on.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi accidentally stumbled onto the scene just as Atsumu began responding to the inquiry. He was not staggered to hear the cruel statements fall casually from his team-mate��s lips. Similar statements were uttered in the locker-room on numerous occasions. It was your reaction that tugged at his heart. No one deserved to hear the one they loved speak with such venom, and certainly not you. “Let’s go before they come out, shall we?”

The thrill of partying as a newly single bachelor provided Atsumu Miya temporary satisfaction. Each night a stranger’s mouth was attached to his, as he clung to them, desperate to combat the vanilla scent that circulated in the apartment, even weeks after your departure. How many girls had now laid in the exact spot you once occupied on the bed? Dozens? And yet, every morning when he awoke, he continuously thought it was you in his arms, and not someone whose name he did not bother remembering. His endeavours to erase you were fruitless. Not due to a lack of effort, but because the truth was… He didn’t want to forget you.

It took a month for the realization to settle in. No longer interested in the meaningless sex that was offered by mistresses of the night, he found himself unable to leave the apartment unless there was a match scheduled. It was the only location where he could feel some connection to you. Particularly when intoxicated, he swore he could hear you whisper soothing sentiments into his ears, dispelling his fears that you no longer loved him.

But each morning, reality would register once more, providing him a metaphorical jab to his chest.

Today was no different.

It had been forty days since the gala. Forty days to mull over how just how much you did for him, and just how little he did for you. It wasn’t always like this. Over the years, he became too accustomed to your giving nature. Soon, he developed a toxic mentality that he was entitled to everything you provided. But it wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t. At least that was what he repeated to himself, hoping it was the truth.

After downing a liter of water, the throbbing in his head had dimmed to a tolerable level. And once the lights no longer strained his eyes, he reached for his phone, determination igniting in his heart. 

“Hi.” The greeting was exhaled softly into the phone, as anxiety prompted your heart to beat irregularly. The uncertainty of what would be said by your former lover had your thoughts tangled into an incoherent mess.

“Hey. Thanks for talking with me.” Atsumu pressed a fist against his mouth, muffling the small whimper that threatened to sound. Oh fuck. You actually picked up. A single word overwhelmed him with the storm of emotions he usually suppressed with alcohol.

A little hum was given to acknowledge his gratitude, it was honestly the best you could offer. But it was unlike you to be so quiet. The thought that he impacted you this much only expanded the guilt he was suffocating in.

“Was I always this bad?” The setter’s eyes stung with fresh tears forming along his lids. Did he even deserve to speak with you now?

Inhaling a lengthy breath of air, silence greeted him for a minute as you mustered the courage to respond. You knew you should hate him. and yet, hearing the tremor in his voice broke your heart. Was it really your fault that you still loved him?

“You weren’t.” You prayed the words were audible, since you were unsure whether you would be able to repeat yourself.

The blonde found the slightest bit of relief in your response, although it only eased a tenth of the tension he was battling to contain. Swallowing once, he strived to stabilize his breathing.

“Will you give me another chance?”

You caught onto the small crack in his voice, symbolizing his distress and sincerity simultaneously. But you wished you hadn’t.

“Atsumu. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a future with me.” Even now, stating a reminder of what you heard activated the emotional wound you spent the last month attempting to heal. Could you truly ever get passed this?

“I can’t see a future without you in it.” He interjected, not missing a beat. He refused to deny it any longer. He was an idiot, but he loved you. It was more than the fact you were low maintenance. He knew that now.

“I feel like I wasted four years, do you understand that?” His confession promoted a swarm of butterflies to parade inside of your stomach, but the mental reminder of your friends scoldings kept you grounded. Pretty words would not heal the damage. Not this time. “I’m sorry. I can’t waste any more…”

“You won’t have to, y/n. I promise. Let me take care of you this time. It will be different.” At this point he was essentially begging you to place trust in his promises, even if he had no credibility.

Maybe it was unhealthy how much you wished his promise to be true. How desperate you were to lower your armor and envelope him into your embrace instead. You knew your friends would never approve of him, but his pleads were weaved together with a vulnerability you had never heard before. Before you could stop yourself, the one word the setter was waiting for left your mouth. 

“Okay.” Dropping your face into your palm, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. 

The second you agreed, the blonde was already on his feet, fetching his keys before rushing to the front door. It had been so long since the setter was flooded with joy, he could barely contain himself. “Where are you? I’m coming to you now.” Clicking the lock to a close, he nestled his phone against his shoulder.

Upon hearing the shuffling in his background followed by his question, you instantly shot up to your feet, feeling a surge of hope enter your system. “Don’t you have practice soon?” You certainly did not expect this. Not at all.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway, he blew out a scoff. “I don’t fucking care. I need you in my arms now. Text me the address and I’ll be there. I fucking love you, y/n I love you so much. I’ll never let you go again. I promise.”

It should be noted that he wholeheartedly intended to keep that promise, and thankfully… he did.

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast​ @shakiraisawesome​

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x you #atsumu miya #atsumu imagines #atsumu haikyuu #atsumu scenarios #atsumu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

[zettabita]

RIVALS: Spark I

Rivals Master List

hi guys! ok so this is becoming more action than romance lmao I promise next time ill make it...fluffier...? 

I need to get this story out of my head HAHAHAH so I’ll just keep writing. :D In this chapter, you might be a lil OP but thats ok bc you’re amazing irl <3 

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a masaki ichijou x fem reader fic

Genre: action, romance Warnings: mild swearing Word count: 2.2k+

Previous: Thunder

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You really didn’t see what was coming when Saegusa-senpai pulled you into a discussion room the night before your first Ice Pillar Break match. You were meandering about the hotel, you see, trying to get rid of your pre-event jitters. You were inspecting the vending machine (Why doesn’t this have milk tea?) at the end of the corridor when Saegusa-senpai suddenly popped out from nowhere and urged you to follow her into a room full of very intimidating Third year students and an expectant Tatsuya. 

The first thing that crossed your mind when Juumonji-senpai told you in that room that you were chosen to substitute for Monolith Code was the horrible image of you tripping over a rock in the middle of a battlefield. The second thing was how you were so unlucky that the first year they allowed girls to compete in Monolith Code and increased the number of members on a team was your year (but hey, hooray for gender equality.) 

Not wanting to embarrass your school, you tried to put up a good fight. But what about Miyuki, you said. They said that she had two events already and Tatsuya scrunched his face a little bit at the idea. But I don’t have combat experience, you said. They said that Monolith Code, a glorified, no-contact capture-the-flag-with-magic contest, isn’t really live combat and your skills were needed in the team Tatsuya was forming. Not wanting to further bother the scary Third years who looked like they were getting more impatient by the second, you grimly added “not get stomped on at Monolith Code” to your Nine Magic Schools Competition to-do list (At the top of your list was “melt a lot of ice”, which you would later tick off in your Ice Pillar Break match with Mutsuba-san the next day.)

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of a black pillar in the middle of an open field with Tatsuya Shiba, Leonhard Saijou, and Mikihito Yoshida at the Monolith Code finals, trying in vain to gulp down your nervousness. 

At the far end of the field, you see four figures in dark red armor. They had one girl fidgeting more nervously than you were (It was somehow comforting.) You eye the tallest one, the one with the brownish-red hair tucked underneath the helmet before closing your eyes.

“We need you to counter Ichijou Masaki.” Tatsuya says, almost apologetically. 

You almost spat out your drink from the hotel minibar. “You need me to do what?!” (You panic now, but years later, you thank Tatsuya for his decision. Masaki thanks him too.) You were hanging out in your room with your teammates and a few First-year friends, discussing combat styles and strategies for the coming matches in a few days.

Tatsuya sighs as Leo and Mikihito stare at him incredulously. “It will be difficult, but I need to shut down Futatsugi Kei. I can’t do that while also facing off against Ichijou Masaki. At the very least, you have to buy me some time.” You pause to think. Futatsugi Kei was another Third High School ace from a Master Clan. It was absolutely criminal for him, the Crimson Prince, and Cardinal George to be on the same Monolith Code team. 

But then again, Ichijou Masaki was also in a weight class of his own. Or so they say. “But why me?”

“It’s actually one of the reasons why I chose you. The Ichijou clan specializes in medium to long range bombardment. That would make it difficult for Leo and Mikihito,” Tatsuya gestured to the two, “to take him on from a distance with their specialities. But you can.”

Before you could even reply, Erika chimes in from the other side of the room. “And you’re a girl!” 

The four of us gaze at her curiously. You ask, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Erika flashes me a wide grin. “You’re a girl, so he’ll hesitate going all-out. Right?” She looks to the boys for confirmation. 

“I don’t know if I should be happy about that…” you say as Leo lights up in realization. “Oh, yeah! Old-fashioned types like Master Clans people will probably underestimate you, ” Leo blushes slightly and pauses, realizing the implications of his words, “uh, which is, you know, really unfair, but maybe you could use that to your advantage?” 

Tatsuya and Mikihito nod in agreement. “Yes. It’s possible for us to construct a strategy around that,” Tatsuya adds.

You press your fingers to your temple in a gesture of defeat. “Okay. I’ll think of something. But I don’t think my defense will hold…”

Tatsuya reaches into his inner coat pocket. “And there’s another reason why I chose you.” His lips curl into a rare smile and hands me a silver gun-shaped CAD. “Come on. I’m going to teach you Gram Demolition.”

“(L/N)-san.” Tatsuya calls. You open your eyes without looking at him. “Are you ready?” He asks in a low voice. He was obviously most concerned about your state, given that you were the unlucky one to throw down with one of the best first-year magicians around. 

You feel for the CADs in your holsters and pull up your glove, your magic talisman, on your left hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You think back to your first Monolith Code match with Eighth this morning. You did well, taking to the battlefield easily and readily, but you haven’t shown the world your new spell that was learned in a few late-night crash courses with Tatsuya. Gram Demolition, a potent close-range Counter Magic spell, wasn’t a complicated technique, you learned. You only had to have a crazy high Psion count to cast it. It just so happens you had a lot more than most. 

You sigh and go over your magic repertoire in your head for the last time. You do your best to ignore your heart beating annoyingly fast in your chest, sharpen your focus, and lock your eyes on that self-assured red-haired magician standing directly across from you on the field. Masaki Ichijou—your rival for the day.

And with a screech of a faraway siren, the match begins. 

Tatsuya sprints, two CAD pistols in his hand, legs pumping quickly underneath him as he aims at Futatsugi. The air shifts as the other two spread out behind you. Masaki, on the other, strides confidently forward and begins to cast a spell aimed at Tatsuya.

Not him, me, you think to yourself in a split-second. You send a barrage of lightning bolts in Masaki’s direction, the intensity of your thought coloring the strength of your magic, and he deflects it just in time. He turns to you and you see a small smile plastered on his…admittedly handsome face. Smug bastard. You take a quick glance to your left and see Tatsuya engage in a shootout with that Futatsugi character.

Your eyes dash back to your opponent. Masaki raises his two pistols and a few Activation Sequences form around you quickly. Air Bullet: a round of compressed air and Masaki’s go-to spell in this competition (You’ve watched a few replays of his matches. Never can be too careful with a guy who’s killed a bunch of Russians when he was 13.) Strong, but easy to dismantle. Show time. You blast them away cleanly one by one with your newly-learned Gram Demolition technique and counter with your powered-up version of Thunder Child. Masaki’s smile fades and his eyes widen as he puts out a defensive spell, averting the paralyzing effect of your offense. At the edge of your vision, you notice the other Third opponents shoot you a shocked glance.

Masaki regains his composure in an instant. The two of you walk towards each other, pistols raised in a magic gunfight. Lightning and Activation Sequences form and disintegrate around the both of you within seconds, drawing you in, encircling the both of you in a beautiful but deadly light show. (It lit up his face the same way it would the first time he took you to see fireworks at the pier in Kanazawa.) You manage to slip in a few lightning bolts in between shots of Gram Demolition, making him sidestep occasionally, but you were basically locked in a stalemate. 

Now or never. You break your solid stance and run towards him, catching him off-guard. For a second, he pauses, and you press the attack, nearly hitting him with a low-voltage lightning bolt. 

The Crimson Prince must’ve felt the heat quite literally. He flinched at the heat and the close sound of air expanding rapidly like miniature thunder, and, with a flick of his wrist, a dozen Activation Sequences suddenly surrounded you, threatening to let loose. Oh my God, this jerk’s trying to kill me. You catch the horrified expression on his face (his move was a violation of the rules, after all) before you blast away one, four, then seven in a moment, going beyond what you thought you could, and then you take out a few more. You feel the hotness from a nearby explosion. You internally scream at your body to catch up and obliterate the remaining Sequences.

And then, when you’d just were a couple of paces from him, just within range of a lightning bolt, one air bullet hits the ground next to you. The world to your left erupts in a hot flash and the ground simply bursts, soil surging up into the air. You let out a yelp of pain and dive away from the blast.

“And that’s the plan. Do you think the illusion will hold?” You focus on your outstretched hand, gathering Psions and then destroying Tatsuya’s attempt at a spell, the glow from the attempt lighting up his figure in the darkened training field not far from the hotel. Your Gram Demolition was still imperfect, but it was getting there: you had proceeded from mildly inconveniencing Activation Sequences last night to outright blowing them away this evening. 

Tatsuya furrows his eyebrows in mild disapproval as he prepares to cast another one. “At your level, it should.” Another Activation Sequence forms before you and you blast it away easily. “Still...a lot of things could go wrong with that. Are you sure, using yourself as bait?”

You shrug. “You would be too busy to help me. And… to be honest, I don’t think I have a chance at fighting him head-on for too long. So I’m doing what you guys suggested. Using a little psychology.” You grin as you take down a couple of Sequences from Tatsuya near-perfectly. “After all, who wouldn’t panic if they thought they hurt a cute girl?”

You just didn’t expect him to try to kill said cute girl, even if it was an accident. You lie face down in the dirt. Your ears were ringing and your head throbbed irritatingly. Thank goodness your helmet had tough glass or you’d be eating mud by now. A thick mist that looks like dust and steam emanates from the palm of your glove-covered hand and envelops the surrounding area, hiding you from view. You raise your head slightly to look around at it. Your smoke version of Magical Mist, a spell that creates a thick fog, looked a bit unnatural, but it should do. A destroyed CAD, an attempt at a defense spell, a weird natural phenomenon: what created the mist shouldn’t matter, because the opponent should be panicking either way. You take another second to lie on the grass, CADs clutched in your hands, hurting all over from the dive, and then you waited.

You knew that Masaki was just at the edge of the smoke, probably freaking out at the prospect that he killed a girl and a foreign exchange student at First High (Later on, you learn he already had been practicing how to apologize to your country’s government for your death. The nervous wreck.) You knew he would be too busy reviewing his previous steps to see if the excessive force he used would be enough to kill you and definitely too busy to notice that his opponent was very much still alive and kicking. You listen for a rustle of grass or a shuffle of armor. 

After a quiet moment of passing wind and the faraway sounds of magic from your teammates’ own battles, you hear it: a step back, the ground crunching underneath a foot. You raise yourself from the ground quickly and throw your CAD in the direction of the sound. It was a good throw: high and far, the gun spinning away from view in a clean trajectory. More importantly, it was a good distraction at a magic-only battle. At almost the same time, you sprint and emerge from the smoke and into the light. 

You swear the world moved in slow motion in that instant. Masaki Ichijou stood there a few feet from you, pistols lowered, his head turned in the direction of the CAD you threw. He feels the air shift when you emerge and he turns to you slowly, his emerald eyes glinting in the light, his mouth gaped open in surprise. He raises an arm instinctively, probably activating his defenses, but you already cast the final blow: Spark. A seemingly simple spell that creates a small electric discharge but is enough to paralyze an opponent.

As you did, you couldn’t help but flash the Crimson Prince a shameless smile from ear to ear. I win, you wanted to say. He looked on—you couldn’t understand the expression on his face—as he fell to his knees, electricity crackling around him. Far away, the crowd erupts in loud cheers. 

Months later, Masaki tells you that that smile was what made him fall desperately in love with you.

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hope the way you beat him wasn’t too far-fetched lmao. thanks for reading! <3

#mahouka #ichijou masaki #masaki ichijou #masaki ichijo #tatsuya shiba #Mahouka Koukou No Rettousei #irregular at magic high school #the irregular at magic high school #irregular #xreader

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 11

Monday again! 

Erica has come over to Roman’s to get ready for dinner, he’s fawning over her, dinner is a little ridiculous, Butcher is a hero, and Roman gets to be a sap again (but more because it’s just been their 7th month anniversary and man can’t help himself)

Tags: @sunshinepascal​ @rentskenobi​ @princessxkenobi​ @agent-450​ @maybege​ @obaby-wan​

Reference photo’s are below again (apologies for terrible quality Obi-Wan (my laptop) was being stinky today), enjoy guys :)

Masterlist

(this is literally the only picture I could find of Ewan in purple so Just imagine he has a black button down instead of the striped shirt)

Roman pulled Erica close before lifting her slightly to sit on the counter, her floor length long sleeve wrap dress is a deep velvet purple, the neckline shy of plunging and the wrap of the skirt giving her a knee-high slit. He is dressed to match her, purple suit accented by the black button up that hides behind his blazer, black sunglasses accompanying the grey pocket scarf that ties in with the sandals he’s carrying for her. Flat footed she stood about an inch taller than he, but he always relished the height difference (as was evidenced by the four-inch heels he was now buckling onto her feet). As he fastened them Erica smiled softly and began brushing her fingers through his auburn hair, he was always tender with her and she couldn’t begin to thank him enough. As if he knew her thoughts, he spoke softly into the room.

“I was thinking we could finish painting the purple and grey in the studio this week. Like your flag.” It was his six-month anniversary present to her, he knows she loves training with her weapons of choice still (even if she has her own guard team now) and he wanted her to have her own space. If that keeps her out of the community training area, that’s just an extra bonus.

The soft smile on her face grows fond, “does the great Roman Stanton have time to watch paint dry?” it’s said almost teasingly.

“With the love of his life?” His eyes meet hers as the endearment passes his lips “there’s nothing I’d rather do.” It is said so matter-of-factly that a full smile breaks across her face.

“People might talk, finding out this isn’t for sex”

“You know,” he begins and his face is full of an exasperation that shows just how many times he’s had the conversation, as his hands find her waist and he stands between her legs, “You can love someone, without having sex.”

She laughs a little at this, albeit softly, and cradles his face in her hands. “My Roman” she brings their foreheads together and for a moment they breathe one another in, basking in the stillness. It’s soft, undeniably so, only interrupted by the furrowing of Roman’s brow.

“Did someone say something?” He pulls back before continuing, hands finding her shoulders as hers slip to his chest. “It’s been a moment since I told the last batch you were asexual; do you want me to mention it?” Despite the calmness his tone brings her, Erica knows ‘mentioning it’ will involve more than just talking (and it certainly won’t be done in passing, her mind briefly pulls up the memory of the time Roman made a 47 page slideshow for Butch about what being Ace meant, how dragons were the mascot, and how that pertained to him. As the main bodyguard for them both Butch had appreciated the education, contrary to what his immense size and intimidating presence suggested he was truly kind). Her smile broadens again, “No, I’m just teasing you, I’d love to finish the studio”.

Romans face splits with a grin that Erica is convinced rivals sunshine with its warmth and brings his hand up to suspend itself by the side of her face. She’s always loved this about him; he never falters at asking before he touches her, some days she doesn’t need him to ask, but knowing he always will, heals her on the days when she does. She leans into him then, closing her eyes and relishing the contact.

“May I please kiss you?”

Its spoken so softly Erica isn’t even sure she heard it, but she opens her eyes to find his and the pleading of his own gives him away. “softly” she conditions in a whisper. He gives her the briefest of nods before leaning in, giving her the time to change her mind if she desires and then she closes the space, pressing her lips to his lightly and gripping at the lapels of his suit jacket. She doesn’t deepen it, and he follows her lead, but she still puts love into the kiss, gently tugging him closer. He pulls away first, thumb stroking her cheekbone from its place on her face.  “Well my Evenstar, shall we go?” She buries her face in his coat at the reference to her favorite fantasy world, “Yes Mr. Stanton,” she drags her eyes up to him with another soft smile “we shall”. His hand is extended to help her down (though it isn’t far at all with the addition of the heels) and the smile he directs up at her resembles the cat who got the canary, as he tucks the same hand around his arm. “The world awaits”.

*Dinner that evening*

The dinner goes well, Erica and Roman separating (he’d sent Butch with her for his own peace of mind) as the night went on, it turned out the man he’d been meeting with had several companions and Erica was willing to make a few friends if the situation lent itself to such a thing. She’d come back after a while, (maybe a little less care-free than before Roman thought but he hadn’t been able to ask at the time) saying that Butch had had something to take care of and would be re-joining them both soon.

It isn’t until Butcher is walking with them to the car, Erica on his right arm and Roman on hers, that anyone mentions the situation, Butcher commenting softly

“She kept asking me who I’d like to,” he pauses and Erica trains her gaze on his face “do, things, with” he finishes lamely; gaze resolutely focused ahead of him, only breaking to scan for threats. Erica tilts her head in silent question. “Adult things.” He tacks on and confusion flits across her face before he adds “not taxes, the other stuff”. Her posture straightens before she breathes a noncommittal “ah”.

Roman tilts his head and looks to her in question.

“One of the girls was, very thrilled, with Butch, she couldn’t have held a candle to Hannah. I didn’t much care for any of them so I rejoined you.” She says by way of explanation.

Butcher scoffs, “No one could hold a candle to my Hannah. All due respect Ms. Erica” He says it with a smile sent her way and his hand coming to rest over hers where it rests on his arm.

Butcher plunges ahead as they exit the venue, “She took a real shine to you though, I kept trying to explain you wouldn’t be into it, but she wasn’t really getting the hint. I told her you were ace, she said that meant you hadn’t been with the right people. That she could fix it for you”. For a brief moment Erica almost wants to turn back to ensure Butcher hasn’t left the poor thing tied up somewhere as she is absolutely certain Romans slideshow did cover this response (if she didn’t remember after his insistence that she proofread it for him the tension she can feel from him is indication enough). But once again Butcher carries on without thought and finishes with a flourish as he opens the car door.

“She got a real nice cab home, courtesy of the local police department.”

Erica stops halfway in the car in shock, still holding roman’s forearm in preparation to slide in “Butcher, you had her arrested?”

He shrugs, “Well, I couldn’t take her into the men’s room for a talk myself could I?” he says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if arguing in her defense during dinner hadn’t been kind enough, as if leaving the woman any chance to say such things to her face would have been absurd. She hugs him then, throws both arms around his neck and pulls him down despite her own impressive height.

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet, barely a whisper, and yet she hopes he knows it means the world to her. As she pulls away, she tells him so, and slides into the car before the emotion can make itself known. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Roman shake Butcher’s hand and she hopes to God it’s over a raise (it’s not as if she wants to buy respect but she’s certain whatever they pay him isn’t enough with the defense he just gave for her). Roman slides in after and Butcher closes the door before moving to sit with the driver, she almost moves to ask Roman to have Butcher keep them company but pauses when she meets his eyes, instantly seeing somethings on his mind. Her eyes soften, “Don’t be upset for me, he handled it better than I could have ever dreamed.”

Roman sighs, “You know me so well love.”

“I do.” It’s punctuated by her bringing their foreheads together, placing a quick peck on his lips before leaning back again. He chuckles, rubbing his thumb along the side of her face gently, reaching toward the dangling earrings she’s wearing before brushing his fingers along the length of her earlobe, down to the cartilage to cradle her bling.

“These are lovely.” His eyes find hers with a knowing smile, they had been her 7th month anniversary present and the reason she’d gotten ready at the pent-house, he’s pretty sure he’d be a failure if he didn’t mention them. “They pale in comparison to the woman wearing them, but they are beautiful.”

She blushes then, looking down before tracing her fingers up the line of his lapel, up his throat lightly before tapping the end of his nose with her finger. Eyes following the trail her fingers blaze, they finally meet his.

“The man who bought them had great taste.” She declares and Roman smiles wider,

“It would seem his taste in lovers is even better.”

Now she’s looking down and laughing, crinkling her nose because she’s trying to stifle the sound, its his favorite expression out of all the ones he’s seen her make so far. She doesn’t do it as often as she laughs, only when she’s found something exceptionally funny, or when she’s being tickled, it only happens when she’s become so full of joy that she forgets to school her expression into something conventionally ‘pretty’

As she looks up she says, still giggling, “You’ve already won me Roman, you don’t have to woo me too.”

He makes a conscious effort to look scandalized.

“My dear, I would simply waste away were I forced to forgo my endeavor to love you better than Shakespeare could write or Da Vinci could paint. I must be nothing less than a master at my craft lest I fall into the pit of despair that is the thought of you needing another. I must never lax, disregarding the passing of time. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll love you.” The culmination of his declaration consists of him bringing her hand to his lips, holding eye contact as he presses his lips to the back of it softly. He had begun in grandiose, but he’d barely spoken a few words before becoming fully aware of his own sincerity and embracing it wholeheartedly. She’s smiling now, eyes turned soft and accepting of his affection.

“Then I’ll consent to be loved.”

***************************

#asexual #ewan mcgregor #aces in spaces #ace character #original characters #original fic #original story #new chapter #i love this one so much #like theyre all just so soft for each other #and Roman is such a sap #and Butch is always ready to throw hands for Erica #I just love it

[tsukikoayanosuke]

Poor Unfortunate Souls

Summary:

Jonah came to the Monstro Lounge to find a possible way to save his friends from Azul's contract. It looks like a deal needed to be made between the tiny pirate and the benevolent sea merchant. In a musical style.

(’Twisted-Wonderland: Our Precious Treasure’ 100 kudos celebration!)

(Spoiler for Episode 3!)

Jonah always enjoyed coming to the Monstro Lounge. The staff was so nice to him. He always got excited when Floyd performs his bartender skill or when Jade entertains every Friday night with his singing. Sometimes, Azul even comes out from his office just for a little chat with him.

Though, today was different.

He could see it was more packed and the staff was more uncoordinated than usual. He spotted Deuce, who was carrying a tray of drinks, nearly tripping over, while Ace tried his best to keep up with the costumers' order. No sign of Grim though…

"Welcome~" A voice familiar voice called him, followed by two pairs of footsteps. Jade put a hand on his chest and bow slightly like a butler. "Welcome to Monstro Lounge~ Table for two, I presume?" Next to him, Floyd still has his goofy smile on his face as he waved his hand at the newcomers.

Jack, who stood behind Jonah, crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You like to ask questions you already know the answer to, don't you?"

"Heeh~," Floyd said, resting his elbow at Jade's shoulder.  "Don't be so grumpy, urchin~"

"Don't call me 'urchin'!" Jack growled, barring his fangs, which only made Floyd even more amused. Jonah raised his hand, blocking Jack before he could attack their senior. The wolf boy glanced at Jonah, and he glanced back. This is not the time to act rashly. Jack huffed, stepping back.

"You know why we came here," Jonah said, taking one step forward. "Where's your boss?"

"Azul is currently attending to another customer," said Jade. "Can I ask you to wait for a short while? We'll show you your table." He turned slightly, clapping his hands. "Mr. Anemone, please escort our guest to an empty table, please!"

Only a few tables from them Ace and Deuce perked up. "We're busy here!" yelled Ace in an annoyed tone and Jonah could understand him. "Can't you ask someone else?"

Jade frown slightly. "Another disobedient anemone?" He reached to his breast pocket where, Jonah noticed, he tucked his Magical Pen. He squeezed the violet crystal and suddenly Ace and Deuce started screaming.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow!" Ace grabbed his head, dropping the menus from his hands.

Deuce stopped his track before he could spill all of his drinks, trembling as the anemone on top of his head looked like it was trying to get off from his head. "Don't pull the anemone!"

"Senior Jade! Stop it!" Jonah took quick steps forward, grabbing Jade's hand and pulled it away from his Magical Pen. Slightly glancing to the side, he saw Ace and Deuce stopped screaming but still winching in pain. He turned back to Jade who watched him with an amused face. 

"They're maybe under your boss' contract, but they are still my shipmate," Jonah said with a low voice, glaring at the older Leech brother. "I do not appreciate someone harming what's mine…"

But Jade didn't even look offended. "Forgive me, dear customer, but it seems that you nearly broke the rule."

Jonah just kept glaring. He didn't even look away when he felt Floyd's hand on his shoulder. He felt the other twin leaned down, lips so close to his ear. "Anyone who doesn't play fair will get some squeezing~" He was drumming his fingers, threatening to reach for is neck…

The hands were immediately gone, followed by a growl of a wolf. Glancing back, he saw Jack pulled Floyd away from him, glaring at the senior who still has that goofy smile. "Stay away from him," Jack said between his gritted teeth. "Watching you guys picking on newbies leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

Floyd, completely unafraid, tilted his head to the side. "Then why don't you help us out in their place?"

There was silence between them. Jonah watched Jack who was thinking hard. He knew he shouldn't have brought him here. This was between him and Azul. Jack has nothing to do with this, and yet he volunteered to join in this sticky situation…

"Jack, you don't have to do this," Jonah finally said to him. That seemed to bring bought Jack back from his deep thought though. He let go of his hands from Floyd's jacket. Floyd took a step back, looking so smug.

"Fine. I'll work for you," Jack grumbled. He looked at Jonah who was shaking his head at him. "I'll be fine," he reassured him. "It's just a little work. You can handle Azul."

Jonah inwardly cursed. Damn it. He couldn't stop Jack from getting roped into this trouble as well?

"Oh, goodie~" Floyd cheered, clapping his hands as he slipped behind Jack. He pushed Jack away from Jonah and Jade, joining Ace and Deuce who looked so grateful. "Let's get to work, urchin~"

Right. He had to handle Azul. He glanced back at Jade. The smile hadn't left his face, which only made Jonah even more ticked off. Weird, he usually enjoyed the Leech twin's antics, but maybe today had been a stressful day, he didn't feel like laughing with them. Or maybe because his friends were in peril!

He slowly let go of his hand. Jade rubbed his wrist. Did he grab it too hard? He bowed again. "I'll show you to your table, Sir."

Jonah sighed and followed his senior. He led him to an empty table at the corner of the room, far away from all the noise. This should be a red flag for Jonah, but he couldn't complain unless he wanted to ruin this chance. He sat on one of the sofas as Jade bow again and left him alone. Jonah sighed again, playing with the string of his eye-patch. Should he take it off? People usually take him seriously when he shows his eye. Though that usually happen during a fight, and he had his crew on his side. His practically alone now, will his eye work?

"Ah~ My favorite customer."

Jonah looked up. Azul was walking toward him in his dorm tuxedo, fedora, and purple scarf. He didn't ask for Jonah's permission when he took a seat across the table in front of him. He had that sly smile on his face. A smile that he usually wears when he knew he would win during the weekly Mario Party game at the Board Game Club.

"How are you doing?" he asked, elbows on the table and fingers intertwining with each other. "I've heard you did well in your test."

"Oh, everything is quite pleasant, Mister Ashengrotto," Jonah said in a fake cheerful tone, just to amused him. "Though my day will be better if you could just let my shipmates go. The others as well, please"

Azul chuckled, resting his chin on top of his fingers. "You know I can't do that, Mister Argentum. I can't just let go of all of those 225 clients Jade and Floyd gathered. It will be rude of me to waste all of their hard work."

Oh, is that how are you going to play? "I am a kind captain, you see," Jonah said, resting his arms on top of each other of the table as he leaned closer. He smiled dangerously. "If my crew is in trouble, I need to get their sorry ass out of there."

"I can see that." Azul didn't feel threatened at all. He looked amused. "But, Mister Argentum, I'm not making them do any work that goes against labor standards. They agreed to my terms before signing the contract. You can't just nullify a contract just because you think they're pathetic. In other words…" The senior smirked at him. "You are too late."

He knew Azul would say that. Azul is many things, but going against his word is not one of them. Then… Let's play that game…

"Then how about I strike you a deal?" Jonah said. Azul raised an eyebrow at him. He took the bait. Jonah continued with an overdramatic voice. "I'm desperate, can't you see? I need… Ah, a miracle, if it's possible." He paused, giving time for Azul to think before he ended with a low voice. "Can you do that?"

Azul was silent for a moment before chuckling. He leaned back at the back of his chair. "My dear, sweet child~ That's what I do," he said as he crossed his legs and put his folded fingers on his thighs. "It's what I live for: to help unfortunate people like yourself. Poor souls with no one else to turn to…"

Acutely, Jonah was aware that the light suddenly dimmed down. Or was it just him. The glow from the window made the atmosphere even more mysterious. He heard footsteps and saw the Leech brothers walked up to behind Azul's sofa. "I admit that in the past I've been a nasty," the silvernette sang as he put a hand on his chest. "They weren't kidding when they called me kinda strange."

The leech brother laughed and Azul gave them a playful glance before waving his hand, signaling for them to go away for a while. "But you'll find that nowadays, I've mended all my ways. Repented, seen the light, and made a change." He tiled his head to the side and smiled. "True, yes~”

Jonah raised an eyebrow at him but Azul just kept ongoing. "And I fortunately know a little secret. It's a talent that I always have possessed." He clapped his hands and Jonah looked up when he saw two students walking toward them, each carrying a tray. 

"And, young captain, please don't laugh~" Jonah turned his head back to Azul. "I use it on behalf. Of the miserable, the lonely, and depressed…" In the last part, the two students put two cups of tea on their table and a plate of garlic bread. 

Azul suddenly stood up, fixing his jacket as he muttered, "Pathetic."

He started to walk toward him, while still singing, "Poor unfortunate souls… In pain…" He sat on the table, still looking at Jonah. "In need…" He then pointed at one of the waiters. "This one wanted to get taller." And pointed at the other. "That one wants to get good grades. And do I help them?" He snapped his fingers and smoke puffed out from them. When it disappeared, the first waiter is as tall as Jack while the other is wearing a graduation cap. "Yes, indeed!"

Jonah watched the two waiters bowed down at Azul, like a king he was, who glanced at him with a smirk as if he was showing off what he could do. "Those poor unfortunate souls… So sad… So true…

Not far from them, Jack just finished delivering the last order of the night. He looked up as he saw Jonah and Azul. The negotiation could end up terrible. He needed to find those three idiots and show them what they had done.

"They come flocking to me crying, 'Will you help us, pretty please?' And I help them! Yes I do." Azul then sighed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and his elbow on his thigh.

"Now it's happened once or twice. Someone couldn't pay the price…" A smile formed on his face. A terrible smile. He waved his fingers and one again smoke covered the two waiters. When the smoke disappeared, the familiar anemones appeared on their head. They looked at Azul in panic, but the prefect just kept smiling. "And I'm afraid I had to rake 'em 'cross the coals~" He snapped his fingers and the anemones pulled them away, screaming but couldn't deny.

"Yes I've had the odd complaint." Azul jumped off the table. "But on the whole I've been a saint~" He glanced behind him before spinning in a circle for dramatic effect. "To those poor unfortunate souls!"

Azul ended his spinning, facing Jonah, with a chuckle. "I think I have a perfect deal for you, Mister Argentum."

Jonah nodded. "Please, do tell."

Azul sat back on his sofa across Jonah. "I'll be giving you three days to retrieve a certain photo from the Atlantica Museum. The photo of Prince Rielle's visit to the museum about ten years ago. If you can bring the photo back to me, I will let go of all my new employees, including your little crew."

Around this time, Jack had already gathered Ace, Deuce, and Grim with him. They stood not far from the negotiation table. "I need to remind you that he's doing this for you," Jack whispered to them. The trio winched. Damn it, they got their captain in trouble again…

Jonah frowned. Something's not right… "And if I don't?"

"Then you have to pay the price…" Azul smiled dangerously again. "You must give the right to use the Ramshackle Dorm you look after."

Ace eyes widened. "You've been aiming for that dorm all along, haven't you?!" he screamed, pointing his finger accusingly at Azul. "Why I oughta-"

"Ace, stop!" Deuce immediately grabbed Ace. "We can't interfere!" Both Jack and Grim stood back, unable to do anything. They noticed the Leech twins are standing not far from them with a dangerous glint in their eyes and sadistic smiles.

Jonah ignored the others and focused only on Azul. "Why you want the dorm?"

Azul sighed, pulling his fedora down. "Well, Mister Argentum, you don't have any power you could offer to me, right?"

Jonah's hands curled up into a fist. So, Azul didn't know anything about his eye? Or he purposely ignores it? Either reason, Jonah was glad he didn't need to plug his eye out. 

"And you’re not the sole heir of a kingdom," Azul continued. "And I'm sure you wouldn't give up your meddling crew." Behind him, Ace was trying to get away from Deuce grip and Jack grabbed Grim before he could fly toward the table. None of them took being called 'meddling crew' lightly.

Azul smiled again. "I'm giving you a generous offer here."

Jonah kept frowning. "Are you trying to make me homeless? And how am I supposed to swim to the museum-"

Azul cut him off by standing up from his seat. He leaned forward and poke Jonah's forehead. "You have your brain!" Then he pinched his cheek. "Your cutesy face!" Jonah slapped the hand away. Azul walked out of his seat and stood in front of the smaller boy. "And don't underestimate the importance of-" He pulled out his scarf and put it around Jonah's body, pulling it as if he was drying his back. "BODY LANGUAGE, HA!"

He glanced toward the group of junior. "Your small crew there sure like a lot of blabbers," he said, giving Jonah a sideways glance which Jonah respond with a glare and hissed, "Don't you dare touch them!" Azul laughed. He pinched Jonah's cheek again and pulled back before the boy could bite him. "I think a boy who shut up is a bore~" He pulled his scarf, forcing Jonah to stand up. "Yet down here it's much preferred for captains to say lots of words~ And after all dear, isn't that idle prattle for?"

And all of a sudden, Azul dropped his scarf and pulled Jonah's hand. The boy nearly tumbled in surprised but he managed to get his footing back. The smaller boy was being pulled again as Azul took him in a spin. "Azul, let me go! This is serious!"

But Azul just laughed. "Come on, we're here for those impressive conversations~ True gentlemen embrace it in their band~"

He pulled Jonah closer. Deathly close… Jack was fuming behind them. "Azul!" He let go of Grim and ran toward the duo. Jonah's head turned toward him, eyes widened. Nononono! Jack stay away!

But all it took was just Azul glancing at him and all of a sudden Floyd appeared between the duo and the wolf boy. Jack didn't get enough time to react when Floyd, sadistic smile plastered on his face, kick him on the stomach, sending him flying back to the floor. Before the boy could get up, Jade appeared from behind him, stomping his back, keeping him on the ground.

The others were shocked how the Leech twin could take down Jack so very easily. On one hand, they wanted to be free from this cursed anemone. But on the other hand, seeing their captain in the hand of their enemy…

"Let him go, Azul!" Ace screamed as he, Deuce, and Grim ran toward Azul but before they could even touch him, their anemone was being pulled again. "DAMN IT!"

Deuce grabbed his head. The pain was unbearable. He fell to his knees. "OW! STOP IT!"

"MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!" Grim cried, falling to the ground.

"Guys!" Jonah was terrified, seeing his friend keeling on the grounds. He glared at Azul. "Azul, stop this!"

But Azul just laughed. "Why should, captain~?" He grabbed Jonah's chin as his smile widened. "'Cause I'll dote and swoon and fawn, on a boy who's not withdrawn~ It's he who lets his tongue loose gets my hand!"

Jonah was being pulled again, Azul led him into a dance, circling their fallen friends in a very mocking manner. "Come on you poor unfortunate soul! Go ahead! Choose your form! I'm a very busy person and I haven't got all day! It won't cost much!" Azul suddenly dipped him and Jonah wished he was dropped instead. "Just your dorm!" 

Azul pulled him again, taking him into another dance. "You poor unfortunate soul! It's sad but true~" Azul suddenly pulled himself away and Jonah took that opportunity to step back. He glanced worriedly at his friend. Ace and Deuce was still kneeling on the ground, being watched over by Jade, while Grim was curled up in pain between them. Jack was still trying to get up, but Floyd was sitting on his back so he couldn't escape. This has gone way too far…

Azul took out his Magical Pen and waved it. "If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got the pay the toll. Take a gulp and take a breath, and go ahead and sign the scroll!"

Suddenly a golden scroll appeared in front of Jonah. I hereby grant unto Azul Ashengrotto the rights to the Ramshackle Dorm… This was their deal. This is it! Jonah re-read the contract, making sure it was correct. There was no way he would mess this up. His friends are counting on him!

Azul started to walk toward Jonah He threw the pathetic crew a sideways glance. "Pay attention, 'cause I've got him, boys…" he said toward them, his smirk became wider and wider. "The boss is on a ROLL!"

He stopped in front of Jonah who looked up at him, still glaring. Azul flicked his Magical Pen, turning it into a white feather. "Well…?"

Without any further delaying, Jonah grabbed the feather, and with no hesitation, wrote his name at the bottom of the scroll. Azul couldn't stop smiling as a violet magic circle appeared behind Jonah's signature, sealing the deal. It shone one last time before it folded itself and flew toward Azul's hand.

"THIS POOR UNFORTUNATE SOUL!"

With one last bright light, the contract as sealed. The light suddenly went off but everyone could still hear Azul's voice echoing in the dark.

"It was nice doing business with you, Captain Argentum…”

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twst fic #jonah argentum (my oc) #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #jack howl #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim (twisted wonderland) #songfic #100 kudos celebration #poor unfortunate souls #azul would do this every tuesday #what do you mean azul wouldn't sing like this? #azul is a theater kid #jonah is trying to be a good captain #ace deuce and grim is trying to be a good crew #jack is already a good boy #the leech twins are already good sidekicks #cross-posted on ao3 #tw:opt gaiden #serving blueberry

[kbstories]

Synthesis

syn·the·sis (n.) A higher truth gained from two contradicting ideas.

Every man has a breaking point - even Luffy. Good thing Usopp knows a thing or two about overcoming boundaries.

(Or: Sabo is in danger and Luffy is stressed)

Tags: Post-Wano, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nakamaship, Canon Compliant (up until Chapter 977), Recovery, Usopp is MVP as always, Mentions of Ace

Spoiler warning up to Chapter 977. Anything beyond that is pure speculation.

***

There’s a poetic sort of justice to the fact that everyone knows and Luffy doesn’t, this time.

It’s fucked up, sure, a twist of fate so morbid only Robin would find joy in it, and even she looks vaguely sick. You see, repetition is a fantastic rhetorical device: There’s nothing more satisfying than a story coming full circle, when the intricate mosaic of setup and payoff results in much-needed catharsis. Simple and effective, any storyteller will tell you – and Usopp is damn good at telling stories. It’s the one thing he can be proud of, when everything else fails.

Usopp doesn’t feel particularly good about that – or anything really – right at this moment. Perhaps in future he will, by all the seas, he hopes he will because that means this too will pass, and they will emerge from it victorious, just another miracle by the miracle-working crew from the East Blue.

But right now, surrounded by the shaken faces of his crew mates, all he feels like doing is crawling back to bed and passing out until it’s all over. To run for the hills and never return.

Usopp can’t and Usopp won’t, however. Because it’s Luffy, and because he made that mistake once before and swore: never again, never, never–

The newspaper lies innocently between them, a few days old by the time it made it past Wano’s crumbling borders via a confused News Coo, a clearly-alarmed Bepo (he hadn’t even apologized for almost running over Brook in his haste to get to his captain, and looking back that should’ve been the first red flag) and Law bursting into the room the Strawhats have claimed for their recovery, covered head-to-toe in gauze and all warmth drained from his expression.

Usopp did not miss witnessing their ally that close to despair. It makes the bright smile Law shared with Luffy in their moment of victory seem like a distant dream, perhaps part of one of Usopp’s more ludicrous tales.

“They got him. They got Sabo.”

It’s like he dropped a live grenade in their hands, if grenades were made of words torn kicking and screaming from a nightmare they all share. Usopp wants to ask – They, who is they?! – and there’s always a ‘they’, the Marine or the World Government or CP0 or some other shadowy organization pulling the strings of corruption and misery. But it hardly matters because this… this is real, a realization that passes from Strawhat to Strawhat along with the black-and-white print staring at them from pages increasingly crumpled by nine sets of shaking hands:

Revolutionaries Defeated at Mariejois: No. 2 of the Revolutionary Army Successfully Captured!

And in their midst slumbers their captain, huddled in the softest blankets they could find and snoring away his injuries, and he doesn’t know.

The irony – horrible, grotesque, unfair, unfair – isn’t lost on Usopp. Two years ago, he would’ve killed to have this, to be there, to catch Luffy as he bled and screamed and burned at the pyres of his brother’s death. To save Luffy just as he saved every single soul in this room, Law included.

Please, is all Usopp can think of, begging to every deity he’s heard of and those he hasn’t, to anyone who will listen, let him rest. Luffy doesn’t deserve this, not again. Please, have mercy–

Zoro is the first to move and something in Usopp moves with him, a fledgeling sense of optimism fluttering pathetically in his chest. Because it’s Zoro and Zoro always leads them right when their captain is off saving the world or a country (or two). Yet all Zoro does is sit at Luffy’s bedside like a mountain shaken into rubble, a measured kind of collapse that hits Usopp square in the gut. He doesn’t know what the others are doing, doesn’t dare look away from their first mate, but someone is crying and someone else is murmuring comforting words, and that at least sounds like Sanji so the first must be Nami.

There’s only a handful of times Roronoa Zoro has yielded without mounting a counterattack right afterwards and none of them are memories Usopp wants to revisit. Not now, not ever.

“Who else knows?”, Zoro asks, the steel in his voice worn down to a dull edge at best, and Zoro’s hand settles on Luffy’s head so gently it brings tears to Usopp’s eyes, too. Luffy mumbles in his sleep and smiles, nuzzling further into the covers with the clumsy comfort of a napping dog.

Law, too, is staring blankly at that gesture before blinking, focusing anew. He’s so tense a muscle visibly twitches in his jaw with the heavy swallow working its way down his throat.

“Bepo, me. Now you. Kidd is suspicious but he won’t leave Killer’s side, not yet anyways.”

The mere mention of Killer serves as an additional sucker punch on top of the veritable tsunami crashing over them, on the mend as he may be. That could have easily been Zoro, or Bepo, and the haunted glint in Law’s eyes says he’s thinking of it, too.

Zoro nods, absently. “And how long till we can set sail?”

For the briefest of moments, Law looks like he’s going to protest. The Trafalgar Law they met a few months ago would have, grim and annoyed, and the one from just last week would too, exasperated and loud–

Since then, they have beaten one of the Four Emperors and sent another one packing with her tail between her legs, and that feeling of having your dreams within reach if you only try hard enough, if you truly believe in it and your friends and yourself, it forges a bond like little else does. Hope is a dangerous thing – it can heal as much as it can wound, and Luffy has taught them all, one by one, how to endure both sides of that coin.

This pirate alliance of theirs has long stopped meaning what Law had wanted it to, and instead turned into what Luffy promised all along: Something permanent, something unbreakable, that all-or-nothing sensation of trust that is as much a freefall as it is flying.

So Law just… sighs. He rubs at eyes deeply smudged with missed hours of sleep and close calls all around, and Usopp can see his shoulders bend under the weight of being a captain.

“I… I don’t know. But I’ll find out. I don’t need to remind you all that this– It’s not like Kaido. Our chances against Kaido were slim to none but they were there. That report, it’s already outdated. The world has been shifting with us being none the wiser, and it could be that Luffy’s brother is already…”

It’s like Law can’t bring himself to say it, as if even speaking the possibility into existence will make them lose something they can’t get back. His gaze flickers to Jinbei, briefly, then to Luffy, and sympathy deepens the lines on his face.

“I’ll find out”, Law repeats, firmly. “Just… be there when Luffy wakes up. Then we’ll decide.”

And though many things may have changed, two years and countless battles later, this remains the same, always, always. Being at Luffy’s side is a privilege and a duty no Strawhat will ever turn their back on.

Blinking the blurriness from his vision, Usopp looks at the bandages wrapped around Luffy’s chest with loving care and the deep purple of bruises peeking out underneath, and he clenches his trembling hands to fists and hopes. As long as there is a sliver of sky above them and the wisp of a current below, they will follow their captain to the end of the world and beyond.

Come whatever may. Because this time, they are here and they're not letting go.

*

Luffy starts craving food the next morning.

It startles Usopp, the hand that knocks against his head and snaps him out of his doze by his captain’s side. He stares at the questing fingers for a few uncomprehending seconds. Usually he’d laugh, spirits lifted by the prospect of Luffy waking up sooner rather than later so they can celebrate properly.

There is nothing usual about this. Usopp reaches behind himself to the solid weight slumped against his back, shifting fitfully.

Sanji comes to with a tense breath. “It’s just me”, Usopp mumbles and doesn’t ask if his friend is alright. None of them are. Instead he says, “He’s looking for you”, and watches Sanji’s eyes soften somewhere between relief and heartbreak behind the strands of his fringe, weirdly unkempt.

“Mh, thanks”, Sanji replies in a raspy whisper; he gets up and leaves, side-stepping the jumbled puzzle of limbs that are the Strawhat Pirates. Only once he’s out the door does he reach for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Sighing, Usopp rubs his eyes until they ache in an effort to wake up. Fuck, it’s like he hasn’t slept for a year and it’s been barely twenty-four hours. Beside him, Luffy’s hand inches its way towards Nami – sleeping close enough to brush knees with Usopp, head pillowed on crossed arms – and Usopp reaches out, takes it gently.

Luffy’s palm is warm against his, slightly damp from the fever he ran the first few days of recovery. His knuckles are a busted, swollen mess even now, and Usopp is careful. It wriggles impatiently, this hand that knocked a literal dragon out of the sky, and then it settles in Usopp’s grasp and Luffy sighs in his sleep.

Usopp can’t help but smile a little. “Food is coming, captain”, he tells him quietly. “Be patient with us, okay?”

Back to waiting it is. Not for the first time, Usopp plops his chin on the edge of the bed and just… looks. With his straw hat set aside (and safely tucked against Jinbei’s chest where he finally found a semblance of sleep, napping against the wall on the other side of Luffy’s bed), Luffy is sporting a truly impressive case of bedhead, the rest of him lost in a helpless tangle of blankets he tried to kick off during the night. He actually looks his age, Usopp’s age, like this – just some nineteen-year-old punk among many and not the one-of-a-kind captain of a crew famous the world over. It’s a rare chance to soak up this side of Luffy, the expression on his face relaxed and peaceful and lacking the chaotic energy that’s so infectious even eternally-grumpy Law had to give up fighting it off.

A selfish part of Usopp wants Luffy to remain that way, safe in the afterglow of a war well-won and unburdened by the cruelty of reality. It’s the same part of him that remembers the loving smile Sabo directed at Luffy, sleeping soundly in someone else’s bed just like this, and asks, why? Why didn’t you stay put? Why are you risking everything when your little brother is right here–

It’s selfish because stopping someone from doing what they truly want is the exact opposite of what Luffy is all about. Because the thing Sabo yearns for is freedom, and as long as the Celestial Dragons rule over their paradise built on the backs of countless slaves, no one is well and truly free.

If there’s a fight worth dying for, it’s that one. And yet–

“He’s going to be okay, you know?”

Usopp jumps a little, his neck protesting painfully as he whips his head around. Nami snickers at the wince on Usopp’s face before she sighs, the brown of her eyes bright with emotion.

“This sucks but… Luffy is strong. He’ll know what to do. Traffy is with us, we have a fleet to back us up, we’ll call in every favor we’re owed, and then we’ll show those fuckers hell for taking what’s ours. Sabo will be fine. I’ll kill him myself if he isn’t.”

She huffs, then, having talked herself into that righteous kind of fury that’s uniquely Nami even if she keeps her voice down for Luffy’s sake. Usopp finds himself chuckling.

“Say, what’s our going rate for personal rescue missions against impossible odds again?”

“A lot.” The grin on Nami’s grin is knife-sharp. “The Revolutionaries will be in a world of debt just for making Luffy worry.”

“Good”, Usopp says, and grins back just as fiercely.

*

They let Luffy eat his fill, for one because his healing factor is largely based on burning through incredible amounts of calories in no time at all, and also because Sanji looks like he needs to see it.

As much as their cook has his gripes about the bottomless pit that is Luffy’s stomach: Only when his captain is back on solid foods and on track to regain the weight he lost while unconscious does Sanji allow himself to relax. For Usopp, this means making sure his own plate is damn near licked clean by the time Sanji lets out a quiet breath and shuffles to the open window to smoke. The rest of the Strawhats eat, too, a low hum of conversation taking some of the tension out of the room they’ve barely left since Kaido.

The only exception is Zoro, and Usopp can’t help the glances he gives the door every few minutes, as if he’d magically reappear just like that.

The negotiations have been going on for ages now. As far as Usopp gathered, the Heart Pirates are heading intel and logistics, while Momonosuke assured them whatever resources Wano Country can spare – after taking care of their people, Zoro had added with a huff when he’d checked in on Luffy around dawn.

That’s not the problem, then. Eustass Kidd is, and after all that happened around the Kidd Pirates and pirate alliances, Usopp isn’t exactly surprised the guy refuses to compromise when it comes to his crew. Killer is awake now, though, and judging by the explosive arguments raging on outside, Kidd is not happy with his partner’s input on the matter.

The all-too-familiar sound of three swords being drawn is loud in the ensuing hush, and every scrap of metal in the room vibrates from the near-oppressive wave of magnetism sweeping through it.

“Oh? Who’s fighting?”

“Zoro and Kidd”, answers Usopp automatically, sighing. “Again.”

“Ah, okay. Not seriously though, right? We promised them a party after all. Like, a big one.”

“Kinda? It’s hard to tell honestl–”

Usopp blinks and turns to see Luffy awake and tilting his head at him. His hands are yet to stop shoving food in his face and Usopp stares with his mouth agape.

“Y-you’re awake!”

“Yeah!”, Luffy says with enthusiasm, and not a second later does he lift his plate away from the ball of fur charging at him with the force of a bull. Calmly, Sanji grabs the food and sets it aside for later. 

“Luffy!”

Chopper’s tearful wail is followed by a breathy oof from Luffy as the reindeer clings to his bandaged chest in a flurry of hooves. Luffy chuckles, “Hey Chopper”, sounding pleased as punch that the doctor is walking all over him. Then he meets the half-circle of relieved looks around him, his smile only getting wider and wider.

“Hey everyone! I slept in again, huh?”

“Hey yourself”, Sanji murmurs around a smoke-filled smile. He leans out the window and calls, “Mosshead! Crew meeting!”, and the clanging of swords on metal immediately stops.

The Strawhats coalesce from all corners of the room, crowding around their captain whilst leaving enough space for the impromptu check-up Chopper is conducting. This, at least, is familiar. Frazzled as they are, Usopp’s nerves are soothed by Luffy’s easy-going compliance with Chopper’s orders to make a fist, breathe deeply, cough, does this hurt? and if the doctor’s hooves are marginally less steady than usual, well, it’s only to be expected. There’s a line forming between Luffy’s eyebrows though, and Usopp knows none of them are ready to answer the questions forming behind that pensive look–

It’s in that moment that Jinbei steps up, eyes a little solemn even if the smile on his lips isn’t. “Glad to see you awake, captain”, he says, and offers Luffy his hand, palm-up. Cradled with infinite care between webbed fingers, Luffy’s beloved hat looks small and unassuming; met with immediate delight by its owner, it might as well be a crown made of gold and the finest jewels far and wide.

“My hat! Thank y– Jinbei!”

The name rings with joy the same way it did during battle, and while Jinbei regards Luffy with some measure of perplexity as he’s drawn into a rubbery hug along with the hat, Usopp exchanges fond looks with some of the crew. Dire news be damned, it’s still a little unreal to have their tenth crew member finally with them, like, permanently.

They couldn’t have found a better helmsman in any of the seas, that’s for sure.

“It’s so cool you’re back! We gotta celebrate! Oi Sanji–”

“Not so fast, Luffy. We gotta talk.”

Those gruff words cut through the smiles and laughter like they’re made of washi paper; finally Zoro is there, skin glistening with sweat and droplets of blood pooling around fresh scrapes, and the unhappy slope of his mouth is an important reminder that fate doesn’t care about reunions and banquets of epic proportions. 

The change in Luffy is instantaneous, eyes snapping to Zoro’s. His attention shifts like the wind, a physical force in this limited space. Almost absently, he places his hat where it belongs, a captain once more.

“Zoro? What’s wrong?”

No one answers, the silence lasting a mere heartbeat and an eternity all at once. This is it, Usopp thinks, the moment balancing on the precipice before a future as murky and uncertain as the ocean’s deepest trenches. He closes his eyes.

“What happened? Tell me.”

It’s said with authority, a weight similar to Haki but kinder, reassuring rather than suffocating – and resolve takes shape in Usopp’s chest, an urge to keep his head high and watch it all unfold with courage in his heart.

It has a similar effect on Zoro and it’s only then, with his shoulders squared and gaze steady, that Usopp realizes how miserable he had looked without Luffy by his side. Guilt creeps on Usopp, acidic in his veins. (Later. He can feel shitty about all of this later.)

“It’s Sabo. Things… are not looking good.”

Zoro produces the paper – a different one, newer, and Usopp feels his heart clench – from the sleeve of his yukata and hands it over, pre-folded to the relevant page. All Usopp can see from his angle is Sabo’s smile, determination apparent even upside-down. It’s a re-print of his wanted poster.

Next to him, Robin draws in a trembling breath and Usopp reaches out for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers to stop them from shaking.

“Sabo?”

It’s with clear surprise that Luffy utters his brother’s name, and Usopp watches helplessly as Luffy’s pupils flit left to right, reading, skipping over dense paragraphs and coming up to the picture at the top over and over–

Then he looks up, and Luffy’s eyes are wide with worry and confusion so earnest it hurts Usopp to the core. “I… What? But he was there, at Dressrosa. And he was fine…? I don’t understand. Is this a joke?”

Zoro’s eye narrows, something wounded there and gone like a shadow. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand”, Luffy repeats, insistent now, and he turns to Robin because that’s what Luffy does when something doesn’t make sense to him. “Robin?”

Robin’s hand squeezes Usopp’s, near-painful. All Usopp can do is squeeze back.

“The revolutionaries, they… There were plans to rebel against the World Nobles. The people in bubbles on Sabaody, remember?” Robin’s voice evens out and yet, her lashes are wet with unshed tears.

“It looks like they failed. We don’t know more than that – the Marine has kept the papers scrubbed clean, as always – but it seems your brother was in charge of the mission. They’re sending him to Impel Down, Luffy. That’s what it means.”

Impel Down.

Usopp can see the exact moment those two words sink in: all blood drains from sun-kissed skin, leaving Luffy’s face close to pallid in contrast to the mottled bruises underneath; Luffy’s mouth opens but no sound arises, no word of protest, no nothing, and Usopp would honestly prefer to see him scream to the heavens or burst into tears than this, this petrified sort of shock that doesn’t belong anywhere near Luffy. Then–

“We’re ready, captain.”

That’s Zoro again, and there’s a hard edge to his tone that Usopp recognizes as sorrow only because it mirrors his own. 

“Law has a plan, we’re fully stocked, the fleet is one snail call away. Killer wants to help so Kidd will come too. It’ll take a week to get there, tops. Just say the word and we’ll–”

“No.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper and yet, they all hear it. And even if they didn’t, Luffy repeats it once, twice, gaining in volume.

“No, no. We’re staying here. Sabo–”

Luffy’s voice cracks, and Usopp’s heart breaks clean in two, and Luffy pushes on, panting like he’s running a hundred miles in a hurricane.

“Sabo has his friends, and my dad. He’ll be fine, okay? He’ll come back. Sabo always comes back. So we don’t need to worry.”

That’s how it works: If Luffy believes in something, his crew does, too. It’s how they’ve always worked, how they’ve pulled off miracle after miracle and will continue to do so until they have sailed the entirety of the Grand Line and their captain is made King.

Something burns in Luffy’s eyes now and it’s not… that. It’s desperate, hunted, wrong. A lie said like a truth, and Usopp would know.

It occurs to him, in a distant part of his mind, that this is the first time he’s seen his captain truly afraid.

And it’s that what kicks Usopp’s brain into overdrive, because on this crew of reckless monsters he’s the one tasked with a healthy sense of fear, to manage the doubts everyone else doesn’t have because those are important, sometimes.

Because true bravery is a road made of boundaries and the means to overcome them, again and again and again – as many times as it takes to reach the end.

“Luffy”, Usopp says, and his voice doesn’t shake. He doesn’t let it. “We got this. We can save your brother. You have to trust us.”

In many ways, this is Usopp’s personal nightmare come true. He sees Luffy clench his trembling hands to fists, and his eyes narrow, and the vulnerability there bends into anger in an instant and it’s all so familiar.

“It’s not about that. It’s my decision to make, and I’ve decided. We’re not going.”

But this time, Usopp breathes. He forces himself to pause, just a moment, just so he can think and not lose himself to the panicked rush of blood to his head.

“We’re not gonna die, Luffy. We went through hell before and we came out alright, didn’t we? So we have to go. Please let us go.”

Suddenly Nami moves, kneeling next to the bed. She places a hand on Luffy’s wrist, gentle over the tense line of muscle there. “Luffy. Usopp’s right. Sabo’s your brother. He’s family.”

“I know that. I know–”

Luffy pulls away from her, from all of them, hides his face in his hands and pushes his fingers into his eyes hard enough that the bones in his hand show, thin and fragile-looking. One by one, tears start dripping down his palms and to the covers below.

“You guys don’t understand”, he says, his voice a hoarse, quivering mess. “You think you’ve seen hell but you haven’t, ‘cause Impel Down is hell and if we go there– There’s no way we’re getting out. Not a-all of us.”

It’s so quiet Usopp can’t even hear anyone else breathing but Luffy, every inhale hitched and barely realized before rushing back out. It’s like he can’t but speak, the horrors he’s seen and never talked about strangling him from the inside.

“Back then I wasn’t thinking ‘cause it was A-Ace, and he was trapped in there and not free, and just the thought of him dying like that made me sick. I only survived ‘cause I had a ton of help and ‘cause a bunch of people died instead of me.”

Luffy stops, and breathes, and rubs his arm across his face until the tears are gone. Usopp doesn’t mention he’s probably ruining the careful work Chopper put into binding that arm. Chopper himself is too busy crying his eyes out against Franky’s shoulder to really notice.

“I’m not risking it”, Luffy says then, eyes dull and red-rimmed. “Mariejois – that’s at Sabaody, right? Marineford and G-1 are around there, too. It’s gonna be a huge mess, again, and I…”

I can’t do it, not again.

It goes unsaid, in the end; perhaps, despite everything, Luffy isn’t actually capable of expressing something so devoid of hope, so close to giving up. That’s… more than nothing, it’s enough to hold on to, and that’s exactly what Usopp does.

“Then we won’t go to Impel Down. And we won’t go to Marineford, or G-1, or wherever those assholes are gonna make a show out of– That. Okay, Luffy? We won’t go to any of those places.”

“But… then how…?”

Usopp searches for Zoro, his gaze bridging the few feet between them that feel endless and Zoro blinks and gives him that devil-may-care smirk of his. To Zoro’s credit, it almost looks right.

“We’re pirates”, says Usopp with enough conviction for both Luffy and himself. For all of them, really, for one brilliant moment.

“We’re going to catch them at sea, because we have the best navigator and the fastest ship and the most skilled helmsman. We’re going to fuck them up because we have the strongest swordsman and a musician who can cut through souls and a freaking cyborg with laser beams and Nico Robin. And we’re going to be fine, because Sanji’s food raised you from the dead just this morning and Chopper can heal any wound and because our captain always leads us right. And even if they manage to account for all of that…”

Usopp grins with far too much teeth.

“We just have to get in range. I’ll shoot those bastards from so far away they won’t even see it coming, and if anyone even thinks of laying a hand on your brother I’ll shoot those off too.”

Luffy just stares at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, eyes swimming in tears. Then he laughs, an awkward, hiccupping kind of laughter that’s raw relief more than anything else. “That’s right”, he gasps, a hand rubbing at his chest where the starburst scar is currently hidden from sight.

“You’re right! We’ll save Sabo, and everyone will be okay, and then we’ll throw the biggest party ever. Right?”

“Right”, Usopp says, “and don’t you dare forget it”, voice wobbling all over the place now that his captain is smiling again, and he hears a fond sigh from Sanji to his left and a melodic chuckle from Robin to his right and Nami looks at him with so much pride Usopp doesn’t know what to do with himself.

It’s Jinbei he settles on, who gives his captain a soft look before he meets Usopp’s eyes half-way and nods, his smile full of admiration. For him. Usopp, son of Yasopp, from Syrup Village, East Blue.

None of his storybooks taught Usopp what to do after the heroic speech is over and the day is saved. And perhaps there is no trick to it, no how-to guide to achieve that dream of his – perhaps, for now, it’s enough to let himself be dragged into a rubber-limbed hug that threatens to crush his ribs, and share the laugh that found its home in his captain once more.

If that’s the case, then Usopp thinks he’s doing alright on the hero front after all.

#one piece #fanfiction #monkey d. luffy #usopp #roronoa zoro #one piece spoilers #one piece fanfiction #oda's got me so tense about the wano arc and what comes after omg #(also sorry if the read more doesn't work RIP) #let's see if tumblr actually throws this in the tags this time #not linking AO3 for the same reason but this fic is also on AO3!! #my stuff

[oswaldsirius]

Warm

Summary: With an unexpected turn in the weather, Celeste realises mistakes were made.

Pairing: Sirius Oswald/Celeste Morreaux

Word Count: 2695

Warning: None

A/N: This has been on the back burner for a while, but with the weather slowly starting to turn on me I realised it was time to finish it!

           Wishing she could tuck her hands into her pockets, Celeste silently berated herself. She had no one to blame but herself for this mess. Everyone had warned her that the weather would change fast. Multiple times. She had believed them but she thought she still had time. Apparently not. In the space of time between her entering a store and leaving it, a chilly wind had kicked up and whipped right through her clothes to leave her shivering.

           She wanted to find something warmer to wear, but she hadn’t brought enough money to cover that cost and she didn’t know where to start looking. She needed to go home and pray that tomorrow wasn’t as cold so she could buy new clothes. But even if it was, she needed to do it and maybe dress a little better with what she already had.

           Her mouth twisted. She’d need to ask for help and she wouldn’t hear the end of it for leaving it this long. If she wanted to be smart, she should only talk to one of them about it. Out of everyone, Seth was probably her best option. He would fuss and be upset that she hadn’t done it already, but he would know where to go. He would tell the others but if he waited until after they bought something maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

           Celeste laughed flatly. It would be bad. They took anything that happened to her far too seriously. After the whole collapsing from exhaustion this summer, they seemed to take everything she did personally. She hadn’t realised she was gaining a squadron of older brothers when she’d chosen to be with Sirius yet here she was. With an army of them.

           Sirius. Damn it, she couldn’t tell him. He’d offered to take her into Central several times on his days off to shop, even though she knew it wasn’t a favourite past time of his, and she’d found other things for them to do. Although…he most likely knew that she hadn’t done it. He spent just as many nights in her room as she did in his, their wardrobes spilling into each other’s to save time in the morning, and it wouldn’t be hard to miss that hers was lacking winter clothes.

           “Damn it,” she muttered, hurrying into the square. Her fingers were already going numb from the cold and she had too many bags to try to tuck them in her pockets. Why had she put this off for so long? She could spend any day with Sirius, why hadn’t she gone shopping with him? They could have made a day of it and then spent the evening together. Now she was-

           “Celeste?”

           Coming to a stop at the voice, she blinked at the speaker. “Oh, hello, Zero,” she said, quickly smiling. It wasn’t completely forced, he’d been nothing but kind to her whenever they’d run into each other and she did like talking to him. But she was positive she was going to freeze if she spent any more time outside than she absolutely needed to.

           Blue eyes darted over her and she saw his mouth flatten before he stepped closer. “You aren’t dressed for the weather.”

           There was no chiding in his tone but the words made her shoulders slump. So she even had the other army fussing over her? What was going to be waiting for her when she got home? “No,” she agreed, “but I’m going home now so I won’t be outside for much longer.” That was a lie. She had to get through Black Territory to get to headquarters and she was already wilting at the very idea.

           He was clearly thinking the same thing as his head turned, staring to the east. “That’s too far,” he said simply.

           Before she could say anything, he started unwinding the scarf from around his neck. “Oh!” she squeaked as he reached out to loop it around her.

           “It’s not much,” he apologized, carefully tucking it into the front of her coat after he’d finished. “But it will help a little bit.”

           Celeste blinked at him, stunned at the unexpected kindness. “Oh, no, you’ll be cold now and I couldn’t possibly take this!”

           A short laugh left him. “I’ll be fine and you can keep it. It was a present I didn’t ask for, but I’m glad I had it to help you.”

           What was she supposed to say to that?

           He looked her over again before gently taking her elbow to walk her to the edge of the square. “It’s too long of a walk,” he said as he lifted a hand to flag down a carriage. “You’ll be frozen by the time you get home and likely catch a cold.”

           “Oh, no, you don’t have to-!” Celeste stopped talking when Zero smiled at her.

           “You helped save our king, Celeste,” he said, his smile softening. “The least I can do to help repay that is get you a carriage to take you home.”

           The colour on her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold now. “That was so long ago. Really it’s alright.”

           She knew he was listening to her as he opened the door of the carriage that rolled up to them, but her protests didn’t matter. He helped her up into it, that soft smile on his face the entire time. “Zero, I…thank you,” she said, feeling lame that that was all she could give him.

           “You’re welcome, Celeste, but you should really buy proper clothes soon. You need to take care of yourself.”

           “I will,” she promised as he closed the door. She heard him talking with the driver before the carriage rolled away.

           Well this was unexpected. Welcome but completely unexpected. She’d run into several of the Red Army’s officers over the months she’d lived in Cradle and she was slowly getting to know them better. It was easier to judge their characters outside of the official meetings held to help solidify the truce and peace between the armies. The few she’d been invited to attend had felt tense and it was hard sometimes to see more than the uniform in those moments.

           But she did know that some of them had almost as bad a sweet tooth as her, Zero included.

           Touching the scarf, Celeste smiled to herself. She would have to thank him for the kindness of both the scarf and the carriage ride. He said it was in thanks for helping Lancelot, but really he didn’t have to do this. She really hadn’t done anything to warrant it.

           The carriage ride went far faster than she expected and she started digging in her wallet as they came to a stop. She should have enough for the trip. She hoped.

           “Not necessary, Miss,” the driver said as he opened the door and saw her. “The Ace already paid for the trip.”

           Celeste stared at him. “He did?”

           The driver smiled and held out a hand to help her down. “Yes, Miss. Said he wanted to make sure you didn’t have to worry about anything else but getting warmed up.”

           He was too sweet. “Oh.”

           He tipped his hat as she stepped down and wished her a nice day.

           She stared after the carriage, her thoughts whirling. She would definitely have to thank him. Maybe she could bake him something and have it sent to him? It would be the easiest way to do it.

           A shiver wound up her spine and she quickly spun around to hurry into headquarters. She bypassed the stairs in favour of going straight to the kitchen. She needed something to help her warm up. Soup or maybe a hot cocoa. Then she could tuck into her room and huddle under her blankets until someone needed her.

           Dropping her bags onto one of the chairs at the table, Celeste flexed her fingers and winced a little. Even with the small break in the carriage, they were stinging from the cold. Rubbing them together, she blew gently on them as she moved toward the stove. There was probably soup she could heat up which would be a better idea than making the cocoa from scratch. That could come later when she could actually feel her fingers.

           The growl her stomach produced sealed the deal and she reached up for a pot. She’d barely touched it when the door into the kitchen swung open.

           She froze. Lunch was long past so she had thought she would be safe for long enough to do this. Whoever had opened the door wasn’t saying anything but he didn’t need to. The way her skin was starting to burn told her exactly who it was. Or maybe that was feeling coming back to all the numb parts of her. “I thought you were working,” she said over her shoulder, telling herself to be calm and keep focused.

           “I was,” Sirius agreed.

           She could hear it in his voice, he wasn’t happy. Pretending she didn’t know exactly why, she said, “Is something wrong with-”

           “Celeste, I saw you get in.”

           Damn it. Her shoulders slumped, but she kept herself from looking at him as she searched for a jar of soup. “Oh,” she said quietly.

           “Oh. Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

           She puffed out her cheeks and tried to open the jar. But her hands were still stiff and she could barely hold onto the lid. “I made a mistake,” she admitted. “I was dressed for the weather when I went out but…it got colder.”

           He made a short noise. “Cherry, you are not dressed for the weather. It’s November. We told you.”

           “I know,” she sighed, finally twisting around to look at him. He wasn’t even fully in the kitchen. He’d simply stopped in the doorway. “I know, Sirius, and I made a mistake.”

          ��He stared at her before his face tightened. “You haven’t gone shopping,” he accused.

           Celeste shrugged, not wanting to actually admit that.

           “Celeste,” he groaned, “we talked about this weeks ago.”

           She knew that and she knew she had messed up. But she couldn’t do anything about it now. “I’m going to get something tomorrow,” she promised. “I was going to ask Seth to go with me.”

           “No.”

           Celeste blinked at him, watching as he closed the door then the distance between them. He nipped the jar from her hands and shuffled her away from the stove before she even realised what he was doing. “Sirius?”

           “The day after tomorrow,” he said, easily twisting the jar open and pouring it into the pot. “I have it off. I’ll take you. Then I’ll know for sure you have what you need.” The last was said under his breath but they were close enough she heard it loud and clear.

           “Don’t you already have plans?”

           Sirius gave her a look. “You’ve wiggled out of it every other time, Cherry. We’re going before you make yourself sick.”

           Rolling her eyes, she gave up. It wasn’t a fight she could win and she didn’t want to argue about it. Moving to the table, she shrugged out of her coat, shivering a little as she took it off. Maybe she should cuddle up to him. He was usually warm enough for them both and she doubted he was annoyed enough to deny her that.

           “What is that?”

           The sudden question made her jump and she twisted to find him staring at her again. “What? Oh, this?” she said, lifting the ends of the scarf she’d started to take off.

           “It isn’t yours.”

           How did he know that? Taking it off, she finally noticed the red roses embroidered along the edges and the large ones at the bottom. “Oh, no, it’s Zero’s.”

           “The Ace of Hearts? What were you doing with him?”

           “Nothing,” she said honestly. “I ran into him and he was nice enough to give me his scarf when he saw I was cold. He got me the carriage as well, paying for it for me too.”

           “Did he.”

           “Mm, he said it was in thanks for helping Lancelot but really, I didn’t do anything,” she said, carefully folding the scarf into a neat pile. “It was nice of him though so I want to thank him back.”

           “Do you.”

           Celeste stopped and looked at Sirius properly. Why was that note in his voice? He had turned back to the stove, stirring the soup idly, but she didn’t buy it. She knew him well enough to know what he was starting. “Yes, I do,” she said firmly, “because it was a kind gesture from a friend.”

           He slanted a look at her, not even trying to be subtle. A quiet grunt left him as he turned back to the soup.

           Silly man. He knew she loved him and had no desire to ever be with anyone else yet he got jealous over someone giving her a scarf? Shaking her head at him, she moved to stand behind him and wound her arms around his middle. “I love you,” she murmured.

           “I know.”

           “I really love you, Sirius.”

           “Celeste.”

           “I really, really love you.”

           “Cherry.”

           She smiled into his shirt. He’d sighed it, a hint of exasperation in his voice, but she could hear his love in the nickname. When he shifted against her, she loosened her hold on him and slipped around. She ducked under his arm when he lifted it and cuddled into his chest. This was much better.

           One of his arms wound around her, tucking her tight to him. She knew that if anyone asked the answer would be to make sure she didn’t get too close to the stove. But she also knew that he liked keeping her close when he got jealous, liked that confirmation that she was very much with him. When his lips brushed over her hair, she moved to rest her chin against his chest and stared up at him.

           He gave her a faint smile after a moment. “Your nose is red,” he murmured.

           Celeste pulled a face. “It’s cold,” she grumped, shifting to bury her face back into his shirt. He made a noise as she burrowed into the spot between open buttons, her cooler skin touching his. His warmth was slowly seeping into her but it wasn’t enough.

           He shifted on his feet when she gave his shirt a tug before he sucked in a sharp breath. “Celeste, your hands are freezing,” he hissed, his back arching in an attempt to get away from her.

           “You’re so warm,” she purred, pressing her palms flat to him. It wasn’t like this was new. She generally woke up with cold toes and it was habit to press them against him now. It was one of her favourite things to do in the morning. This was no different.

           Sirius squirmed against her, his own hand tightening in the back of her dress. “Dammit,” he muttered. “We’re getting you gloves first when we go out.”

           “Mmhmm.” She smiled against him as she slid her hands up a little higher and got a grunt out of him. “Not a scarf?”

           “You can wear mine when we go. My gloves won’t fit you as well.”

           Her smile grew. Of course, he’d want her to wear his. Even if the gesture from Zero had been nothing but friendly, Sirius would want that silent reminder to anyone that saw that they were in a relationship. She was almost sure he would put her in his coat to get his point across if it didn’t look so ridiculous on her. “A jacket might be smarter,” she said after a moment.

           “We can get them together so they match. We’ll get you a couple.”

           Always an answer for everything. “Yes, Sirius.”

           “Don’t ‘yes, Sirius’ me,” he said.

           Celeste laughed, leaning back from him and letting her hands slide down to rest against his hips. “Yes, Sirius.”

           “Cherry,” he huffed.

           “Yes, Sirius?”

           He snorted and tugged her back into him, but she saw the smile on his lips and she cuddled tight to him. That smile warmed her more than anything else ever could.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #sirius oswald #sirius/oc #ikerev fanfiction #celeste morreaux #zero #my writing #fanfiction #fluff #sirius/celeste

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Somebody Save ME

This case might just be the death of a young detective. Sleepless nights and stress filled days haunt the young detective Kim Taehyung but he’s determined to find her. Even if it’s the last thing he may do…

Warnings:angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder, strong language, detective au

Word count:2459

A/n: Woof.Okay...soooo...there are a lot of things to say about this chapter. For one, I wrote half of it in one sitting while my mother in law snored beside me lol. Apparently the rhythm of my typing put her to sleep. For another thing, it was a tough chapter to envision. But now that the picture’s been made clear in my mind....I think you guys are in for a rough ride. You see...I don’t know the ending. I don’t have anything more than vague concepts and random thoughts putting this story together. If it weren’t for @btsstan4life putting up with my random jumble of half thought out messages and such, there probably wouldn’t be a chapter 7 lol. So thank you wifey. Much love~ As always, if you like it, please,please don’t hesitate to drop a like or reblog or even a comment!I appreciate them all as they provide the motivation to keep writing~

<<Part Six---Part Eight>>

Chapter Seven:Sunshine and Amethysts

Taehyung and Namjoon waited impatiently outside of the victim’s home, house keys in hand as the rest of the world passed by unaware.

“Where is this guy?” Tae demanded impatiently, jingling the keys in his hands as his eyes restlessly scanned those who passed by. Each person seemed to stick out as suspicious to him, and when he realised he was glaring daggers at an elderly woman crossing the street with her groceries he sighed and sat down with a huff on the front steps.

“Come on now Tae, he’s only a few minutes late. I’m sure considering the time of day and traffic it’s perfectly justified.” Namjoon leaned down and patted Tae roughly on the shoulder which Tae shrugged off as he rested his elbows on his knees, house keys dangling in his hand.

“You make an appointment as a professional I’d expect you to keep it.” Tae grumbled, more to himself than to Namjoon. His restless scanning of those walking down the sidewalk paused as his eye caught a strange sight that’d just turned the corner onto the street.

A young man, probably not much older than Namjoon, was headed in their direction. He wore a bright red floral print shirt, wide open to show an even brighter yellow shirt beneath. Vibrant red hair pressed beneath a yellow snap back virtually glowed in the early morning sunlight as the man danced down the street to whatever music came from the headphones covering his ears.

He twirled and dipped, lightly hopping from one foot to the other as he made his way towards the house.

“Do you see this guy?” Namjoon asked, plopping down next to Taehyung.

“Yea, wish I could be that happy.”

The two chuckled but the laughter quickly faded away as the walking ray of sunshine that was this brightly colored man began making his way up the walkway before stopping right before the two. His grin shone, filling his high cheekbones to their fullest and causing his eyes to disappear into tiny crescent moons that were rimmed with laugh lines that radiated nothing but joy.

“You two must be Namjoon-ssi and Taehyung-ssi. Bri’s told me a lot about you guys.” He stuck out his hand, first to Namjoon and then to Taehyung, who both shook it though they were still slightly in shock.

“Bri’s talked about us?”Namjoon asked as he stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants before holding a hand out to help Taehyung up as well.

“Well naturally.” The man chuckled, tucking his hands into the pockets of his overly large red parachute pants. “I’m Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. Dancing extraordinaire and part time computer tech expert.” He winked cheekily. “And you're Kim Namjoon, ace detective, top of your class at the academy, met Bri in your third year who is now your wife. And you..”

He turned to Taehyung who gave off a suspicious growl. “You are Kim Taehyung, no relation. Second in your class, strong sense of justice, always willing to help those in need. Also...very suspicious of newcomers.”

Taehyung’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms over his chest before leaning against the closed door behind him. “Well, you know plenty about us apparently. And yet we don’t know damn diddly about you. Don’t know if I like that too much…”

“Ya! It’s not important.” Hoseok waved dismissively, his smile never leaving his lips. “What you do need to know is that I’m good at my job and if there’s something need’s finding I’m the guy to find it for you.”

He waved at the closed door behind Taehyung as Namjoon sighed.

“Alright Tae, let’s just get this over with…” Namjoon nodded to Tae who, after a moment of internal debate, nodded and unlocked the door.

The atmosphere in the former home was foreboding, almost as if the group of men were intruding on an ancient tomb. A thick layer of dust covered everything and the little white flags leftover from the police investigation still stood, a grim reminder that they were entering into a crime scene.

“Did they not have any family to come and take care of the place?” Hoseok asked as he wrinkled his nose at the stale smell.

“No, the father was an only child and both of their parents and extended family were either deceased or weren’t on speaking terms.” Tae glanced around the living room, noticing the family pictures on the mantelpiece over the fireplace and the smiling faces that beamed out from the moments frozen in time.

A twinge of pain flashed in his chest as he recognized his missing crush, her bright smile never changing from the picture of her as a little girl, holding up a soap sud covered puppy in triumph, to the picture of her during what looked to be her high school graduation. She was dressed in a maroon cap and gown and held up her diploma, the same triumphant look on her face.

“You going to be alright?” Namjoon asked in a hushed voice as he patted Taehyung gently on his back.

Tae closed his eyes,nodding as he swallowed past the lump in his throat before leading the other two up the stairs to the second floor. Hoseok began peaking in the rooms as they past, only stopping when Tae closed one of the doors in his face.

“The office is down here.” His voice came out as a growl, causing Hoseok to raise his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, let curiosity get the best of me. Lead on, lead on.”

Tae shook his head before turning back around to continue on. He paused though, squinting as his eye caught a strange painting hanging on the wall.

“The hell?” He pushed past Namjoon to stand before it. An all black background with violent streaks of different shades of purple. And in the center, taking up most of the canvas was what looked to be an arrow, streaking through the center of a circle.

“Why do I know that symbol?” He asked quietly.

“Hey, are we going to the dad’s office or what?” Hoseok asked, giving Tae and the painting a confused look.

A feeling of cold dread filled Tae, but he shook it off, have to focus on the case, not on this creepy painting.

After ripping the police tape off the office door the three men stepped inside, taking up most of the space in the small room. It wasn’t messy by any means. On the contrary it was well organized. Several shelves lined the walls, all filled with books of different types related to the father’s job. A filing cabinet stood to the left of the window looking out into the back yard and just beneath the window was an office desk that looked as if no one had disturbed it since the family had last lived there.

Hoseok immediately made a bee line for the computer, turning it on and pulling the desk chair out for himself.

“Mmm...now I’m in my element.” He chuckled to himself as he glanced over his shoulder to the two men. “I gotta ask though, how come the cops never searched this bad boy?”

Namjoon shrugged, leaning casually against one of the bookshelves with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m pretty sure they did. But from what the report mentioned they didn’t dig very deep nor did they find anything that could have linked him to the kidnapping or to his and his wife’s murders.”

Tae made his way over to the filing cabinet, pulling out the first drawer and beginning to go through the files.

“Knowing them they checked the bare minimum of his emails and a couple of files on the desktops and then labeled it useless.” Hoseok turned to stare at the screen as the password screen popped up, rubbing his hands together in glee before pulling a usb drive out of his back pocket. “Alright time to get cracking.”

Once inside he went quiet, pulling up the commands input screen and beginning to type at the speed of light. Though his eyes remained focused on the screen his body never stopped moving, whether it was his feet tapping out a rhythm or his shoulders wiggling around to some imagined beat.

“You know what you’re looking for right?” Namjoon asked as he walked over and leaned forward to watch Hoseok’s commands fly across the blue screen.

“You’re looking for a file or folder buried way deep that’s got information related to a Wungshi corporation or something along those lines. I’m running a program that’s going to drag out anything that’s been hidden or encrypted or that the old man didn’t want to be found. If it’s there I guarantee you I can find it.” He flashed Namjoon a dazzling smile that lit up his entire body before turning back to his work.

Tae meanwhile had made his way down to the second drawer, boredom causing him at this point to scan through the file names instead of actually looking into their content.

By the time he’d made it to the fifth and final drawer Hoseok had announce that his program was just about done scanning and was getting ready to extract the relevant files.

A tiny flash of yellow caught Taehyung’s eye, drawing his attention to a small square of paper tucked between the drawer of the filing cabinet and it’s interior wall.

“Hey hyung, help me with this.” Tae said as he pulled the drawer to it’s fullest extent.

Namjoon crouched down, pressing the tabs on the inside of the track as Taehyung pulled on the drawer and the two working in unison effectively removed it from the filing cabinet.

“What are you after?” Namjoon asked as Tae reached his arm deep into the now vacant recess.

“Saw something…” Taehyung grunted. His fingertips brushed against the square of paper and he grabbed it, but just as he was pulling it out something else brushed against his palm. Something long and hard and cold.

“The hell is all this?” Hoseok chimed from the computer. His search program had pulled up several files. All were listed as Wungshi and over half of them contained not written documents, but videos instead. “Hey guys? You uh...might want to see this…”

Namjoon set the filing cabinet drawer to the side and made his way to stand just behind Hoseok, his eyes focused on the screen. Tae meanwhile managed to grab whatever the hidden object was and pull it into the light. He stared up at it as he watched the light from the window shine through it, casting purple prisms along his face and the wall behind him. Some sort of crystal?

“The hell?” He and Namjoon spoke in unison and this pulled his attention to the two men sitting at the computer. “You guys find something as interesting as I did?”

Namjoon motioned him over, his face never leaving the paused video on the screen.

The image was blurred and black and white, as if it’d been taken from security camera footage. 7 hooded figures stood in a line, each wearing a different mask. Hoseok clicked play on the video but the figures never moved. The sound of screams flooded from the speakers, echoing through the room and causing the three men to hastily cover their ears to protect them from the screams of agony. A shadow swelled up from behind the men, colossal in size. It seemed to have wings in the shape of bones or some sort of shards of glass or crystal and horns that curled from the side of what they assumed was it’s head.

The video filled with a vibrant purple light and the screams raised in pitch when just as suddenly as the screams had started, they stopped. And so did the video.

“What in the actual fuck was that?” Namjoon shouted, though the other’s couldn’t hear him as they’d been rendered temporarily deaf by the noise.

“Jeeze, are my ears bleeding?” Hoseok mumbled as he checked his hands, wiping at his left ear before checking his hand once again, thankful to find it free of blood.

“Man, if the rest of those videos are like that I’m good.” Namjoon reached over Hoseok’s shoulder, clicking out of the video and scrolling through the rest.

“Wait, what’s that?” Tae interrupted his scrolling, pointing to a video that showed a man sitting in a chair. He seemed to be in a pitch black room, a single light bulb hung over his head to light him.

Namjoon clicked on the thumbnail and Hoseok enlarged the video, quickly lowering the video’s audio as well just in case. This video seemed to be just of the man reading from a book in his hands so Hoseok felt it safe to raise the volume once more.

“He is vibrance. A radiant being filled with knowledge that will bring harmony to the world. Fear not for His glory will shine upon us and His mercy shall reign over the world.” The man paused and stared down at the book before tilting his head back and letting out a laugh filled with joy, and yet, it was so unsettling in it’s nature that it sent a collective chill down the three men’s backs.

The man in the video stood, coming closer to the camera and giving it a leering and twisted smile.

“Don’t worry y/n. Daddy’s going to make sure everything turns out alright. Whistler shall come. And you will be the guiding force that ushers in his awakening.”

Tae’s eyes widened as the video stopped and Hoseok and Namjoon turned to stare at him.

“That’s…”

“Y/n’s dad...the very dad that we thought was murdered right along with her mother…” Tae took a step back, staring down at the strange purple crystal in his hand.

“Hoseok can you get us a copy of everything you’ve found? We might also need your help getting this all figured out. But this house is freaking me out...I’d rather do this at the office.”

Hoseok nodded at Namjoon’s request, pushing the chair back as he got up and reached around to the back of the computer in order to stick a second usb into the port at the back of the computer monitor.

“Hey wait…” He paused, pulling a chunk of cork board that had been hidden behind the computer out. There was only one thing pinned to it. A yellow sticky note matching the one Tae held in his hand almost exactly. A strange symbol and writing just beneath it but in a language neither of them could recognize.

“Hey...isn’t that the same symbol...in that painting in the hallway?” Hoseok asked, glancing up as Namjoon did to stared at a bewildered Taehyung.

“Yea...exactly the same...And y/n’s mom was the one who painted it…”

#bts #bangtan boys #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts kim taehyung #bts kim namjoon #bts jung hoseok #bts angst #bts reactions #bts imagine #bangtanboys #kpop #bulletproof boyscouts #bts meme #bts scenario #bts namjoon #bts taehyung #bts hoseok #bts namjoon detective au #bts taehyung detective au #bts reader insert #bts x reader #bts x reader insert #bts taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fanfiction

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not A Robot Ch16

Summary: Megan manages to convince Paul to come to the meeting. Also, it’s the date when the game starts.

Chapter Warnings: implied anxiety

Word Count: 1.704

19.00 Friday 5th November 2038

“I still can’t believe you agreed to this,” Megan said, passing Paul his jacket.

“I’m seriously considering backing out,” he added, putting on the navy rain coat. He was wearing his ‘Response Loading’ shirt and jeans. His black shoes didn’t look completely out of place with the outfit, but another thrift store foray might be in order soon.

“Then why are you still getting changed?” Megan asked as she passed him his beanie.

“Like you said,” he put the beanie on, tucking his blonde hair underneath it and double checking that it covered his temples. “Sometimes you need to be pushed.”

He took a step back and opened his arms. “How do I look?”

Megan took half a step back and appraised him.

“You’re wearing your jeans too high. I can see your ankles.”

Paul huffed and pushed the waistband down from where it had been sitting. “It’s supposed to be this low?”

“According to my dad on guys it’s supposed to sit on the waist.”

“It feels like it’s going to fall down,” Paul complained, pulling the jeans up a bit higher.

“We’ll add a belt to the shopping list. For now you’ll just have to cope.”

Paul huffed again, but settled down. “What about everything else?”

“Looks good,” Megan confirmed.

“What about...?” Paul gestured to his face.

“What about it?”

“I’m hardly an uncommon android model. What if someone recognises my face?”

“Er, just say, you get that a lot?”

“Very encouraging,” he pulled off the beanie and grabbed the baseball cap instead, shoving it on. “Better?”

“Certainly harder to see your face,” Megan agreed, and Paul relaxed.

“Good,” he shoved the beanie in his pocket. “Anything else we need?”

Megan checked her bag and pockets for the third time that evening.

“Notebook and pen. Phone, bus pass for me, bus fare for you, keys. We’re good.”

Paul took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The two of them left the apartment and took the stairs as usual. Paul stiffened as they got closer to the bottom, but Megan nudged him.

“Relax.”

“How can I possibly relax?” he hissed back.

“Pretend to relax then.”

Paul barely broke stride as he forced his shoulders to slump and put his hands in his coat pockets.

Rain battered down outside, making Megan and Paul pull up the hoods of their coats, even as they sheltered underneath the bus stop.

There was a slightly hairy moment as Paul started to walk towards the android boarding section. Megan grabbed his hand and gave him a brief questioning look, as they weren’t the only ones at the stop.

“Ah, er. Wasn’t thinking,” he excused, and Megan let a sigh of relief, eyeing the other traveller warily.

“I could tell, ya big goof,” Megan gently elbowed him and Paul went to stand next to her.

The bus pulled up a few minutes later and the two got on, Paul paying the fare that Megan had passed him before she scanned her pass. The automatic machine spat out his change and ticket, which he folded carefully and put in his pocket.

The two sat next to each other, and Paul couldn’t help but look around, especially at the back, in the android compartment.

Megan patted his hand a little awkwardly, unsure how to comfort him on this one. He looked back around at her and smiled at her, although, the smile was a little wobbly.

“It’s alright,” she assured, while being aware that anyone else on the quiet bus could hear. “You’ll like them. Alex gets on with everyone.”

“How will I know who is Alex?”

“Trust me, you can’t miss them. Unless they’re doing their cloak and dagger thing. I think they’ve watched one too many spy movies.”

Paul snorted in sudden laughter and doubled over in his seat, confusing Megan.

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Paul had his hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles. “Just, savouring the moment.”

Megan shook her head and looked out of the window, watching Detroit flow past as Paul recovered.

Once he had calmed down he joined Megan in looking out of the window, and little else was said for the rest of the journey.

The bus dropped them off with five minutes until the meeting, so Megan wasted no time power walking for their destination. Paul was taken by surprise, but quickly caught up. He easily kept up with her frantic pace, having longer legs and being almost a foot taller.

“Are you going to get into trouble for being late?” he asked, concerned by her speed.

“Probably not,” Megan slowed down a fraction. “I just don’t like being late.”

Megan navigated the Humanities building with ease, knowing the way to this meeting room like the back of her hand. Paul was constantly tempted to stop and look at the displays, but Megan was on a mission and unlikely to stop for him. He didn’t want to get lost in here.

Megan paused in front of one of the doors, which looked no different from any of the other doors in the hallway beside the number. Her hand was half outstretched to push the door open, but something was stopping her.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, and Megan seemed startled, like she’d forgotten he was there.

“Just bracing myself. Alex knows I’m not exactly sociable, so I don’t know how they’re going to react to you.”

“You told them about me, right?”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Alex thought I was making you up.”

“Okay,” Paul was rather concerned by that but decided not to add anything. He instead walked over and put his hand on the door. “Ready?”

“I should be asking you that,” Megan grumbled, “But yeah.”

They pushed open the door to reveal that Alex was already in there. They had dispensed with the neutral clothing this time, instead looking like the personification of the Ace Pride flag.

“Megan!” they grinned, putting down the chair they were holding. “Good to see you!” they turned their gaze to Paul, smile becoming slightly more mischievous. “And this must be your friend?”

“Er, yeah. Alex, this Paul. Paul, this is Alex.”

“Nice to meet you,” Paul held out his hand, and Alex shook it.

“A gentleman as well. You don’t see that very often.” Alex commented, and Paul looked away for a second, embarrassed.

Alex let go and took a step back. “Want to help me get some chairs set up? Ivy and Lucas managed to get a few more people interested.”

“Sure,” Megan said, and Paul nodded wordlessly, just going over to the chairs. “Where’s Julia?” Megan asked, suddenly remembering.

“She’s running a little late. Her taxi got stuck in traffic,” Alex grabbed a stack of chairs from the side and started depositing them in a rough semi-circle. “Anyway, with any luck we could have as many as ten people tonight!”

“That many?” Paul couldn’t seem to decide whether he was being sarcastic or curious.

“Oh hush, we had six of us the other night. Any new people is a massive bonus!”

Paul looked at Megan, who was already helping with chairs. She met his gaze and shrugged slightly, making her thoughts clear.

“What’s up people?!” the door burst open, startling Megan enough to drop the chair she was holding and make Paul whirl around. Coming in through the door was a pair of students so brightly dressed it made Megan’s eyes water.

The one at the head was Ivy, sans the beanie, making her short blue, yellow and pink hair much more obvious. Her green eyes stood out beneath elaborate makeup, which somehow matched her red and yellow jacket and trousers.

The woman behind Ivy was slightly more muted, with their longer hair natural colours, brown streaked with blonde. Although, purple pink and green seemed to be order of the day with her, going all the way to neon green leather boots.

Alex greeted them warmly as Paul reeled from sensory overload.

“Ivy! Good to see you! Who’d you bring?”

“This is Maggie,” Ivy introduced, and Maggie waved, smiling. “We’re on the same floor in our dorm.”

“Great to have you. We’ll do full introductions when everyone gets here,” Alex put down the chair they were holding. “Take a seat.”

Maggie and Ivy sat next to each other on the far right just as Oscar walked in.

“Hey Oscar!” Alex greeted, and the football player nodded.

“Hey Alex, sorry I couldn’t get anyone over.”

“No worries man,” Alex’s smile hadn’t deteriorated in the slightest. “Take a seat. You guys as well,” they nodded to Paul and Megan, who was still standing up.

Megan sat herself on the far left chair, and Paul sat next to her as she pulled out her notebook and pen.

Nathan walked in next, quickly followed by Lucas and someone else Megan recognised from her History classes.

She were small and slight, a little taller than Megan and a little bit bulkier, but in a healthy way. She wore a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers, and her blonde hair hung over her shoulders.

“Hey Nathan, Lucas,” Alex greeted warmly, and their smile actually faltered a little bit when they saw the new girl. “Hi Allison,”

“Hey Alex,” in comparison Allison was pretty calm. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not here to cause trouble. I am actually interested, Lucas told me who was running this and I came anyway.”

“Thanks,” Alex looked unsure for the first time Megan had known them. “That’s, very mature of you.”

Allison nodded and took a seat roughly near the middle as Alex recovered. Paul shot Megan a confused look and Megan shrugged; she’d never heard anything about this before.

The door opened one last time and the last person walked in. An African American woman a little older than Alex, dressed casually with a large rucksack stopped a little at the door, and Alex remembered how to greet people.

“Julia! Glad you made it!”

Julia smiled a little quickly in response, clearly nervous. “Hey Alex, like I said, issue with the taxi. Everyone here?”

“I think so,” Alex looked around, and everyone nodded. “Great! Quick introductions then Megan can start on minutes!”

Paul's getting braver! I'm so proud of my little android boy.

I also kinda imagine the bit where he walks towards the android boarding compartment as a side fun thing, if this was a game.

So, Alex and Allison have a history. I might talk about it more, another time. Other Options Flowchart

(Paul) Keep the beanie

(Megan) Pat shoulder. Do Nothing

(Paul) Do Nothing. Open the door for her

Tags! @nightmarejim @septicart-appreciation

#Detroit Become Human #Detroit Become Human fanfic #Guess What? I'm Not a Robot #Guess What? I'm Not a Robot Ch16 #Android protesters #android rights group #deviant android

[ndrv3winterexchange]

Here’s my gift for Ace ( @shuuichi-san ) - I saw you like Saimota, so that’s what I wrote! The premise of this fic was rather randomly inspired, and not nearly as wintry as I would have liked to make it, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. Happy holidays! 

A low whine and the rustling of plastic stops Kaito on his leisurely walk home from the grocery store, a large paper bag in each arm. He casts a glance around the street of the ordinarily too-quiet neighborhood, wondering if he’d just imagined the sound, before it echoes again from around a corner up ahead.

Curious, he continues walking towards it until he finds the source tucked way in the shaded alley between one house and the next. A mass of brown fur pokes out from a tipped-over garbage can, fluffy tail waving behind it like a little flag, and Kaito can only stand there in surprise for a minute and watch it rummage.

“Oi,” he calls once he’s collected himself, “knock that off!”

The dog withdraws from the trash to return Kaito’s stare with dark, inquisitive eyes. It has a soft round face and triangular ears that perk up amicably at the sound of Kaito’s voice, and its tail wags faster as the two study each other.

Then it trots right up to Kaito, and he feels his resolve crumble. With a sigh, he shifts one of his bags into the opposite arm and squats down, one hand extended to sniff. A cold nose and short puffs of warm, condensed air graze his palm, followed by a brief, wet brush of tongue, and then another and another until Kaito moves his hand up from the dog’s snout to pat its head.

“Well, aren’t you friendly,” he murmurs, trying not to smile. “You smell like shit, though. What were you digging through trash for, huh?”

His fingertips run along behind the dog’s ears, then down its neck, feeling the absence of a collar. He frowns. “I see… you don’t have a home, then.”

The dog doesn’t answer, not that he’d expected it to. He can’t help but to feel bad for it, though, and he gives it a few consoling scratches between the ears. Then he takes another deep breath and stands, regarding the smelly creature before him with pity. “I’d take you home with me, but I don’t think my partner would like that… ‘sides, I’ve never had a dog before.”

He reaches down to pet it one last time before reluctantly turning away. “Sorry, buddy. I hope someone comes along who can actually help you.”

As he resumes his trek home, however, he hears the soft clicking of claws on concrete. He turns to look over his shoulder to see the dog trailing behind him and pauses, glaring at it sternly. “Hey, hang on,” he says, and it comes to a stop with him, eyeing him expectantly. “Quit following me, I already said I can’t take you home with me!”

He makes some shooing motions with his free hand, and the dog takes a couple of steps back. The moment he turns away to keep walking, though, the soft tick tick tick picks up again, and he starts to wonder if this dog is seriously intent on following him all the way home.

He stops again, turns, looks around for something to distract the animal with. There are no interesting items lying about - of course not, that would be too convenient - but then he notices the taiyaki sitting at the top of his bag. He’d intended to bring it home for his boyfriend to eat later, but he decides that sometimes, sacrifices must be made.

“Here, boy, you wanna treat?” he asks, more tersely than he had intended. Still carefully balancing both grocery bags in one arm, he picks up the little cake and waves it. The dog’s ears flick up, and Kaito grins, certain of his victory. “Yeah, I bet you’d like this.”

He draws his arm back, and with a shout of, “Go fetch!” he chucks it as hard as he can down the sidewalk. As planned, the dog whirls immediately to run after it, and Kaito takes the opportunity to jog away in the direction of his house. It only occurs to him a minute later to worry about whether that sort of food is bad for dogs, but he supposes it’s too late for that now.

Shrugging it off, he walks the remaining block home. As he stands in front of his front door and reaches to dig his keys out of his pocket, though, his ears pick up on that soft quadrupedal ticking again. The dog comes over and stops a few feet away from him, licking its chops, a glob of sweet potato paste dotting its nose.

Kaito groans. “Are you fucking kidding me? Really?”

The dog tentatively wags its tail again in response, and Kaito stares it down, halfheartedly hoping that that will intimidate it away. It doesn’t. All it serves to do is weaken Kaito’s already shaky determination to resist. The dog inches a few paces closer, its beady eyes trained on Kaito’s groceries, and Kaito realizes that it’s probably still hungry.

It gives Kaito a quizzical tilt of its head, and he caves.

“All right,” he sighs, trying not to smile, “you win.”

He unlocks the house and coaxes the dog in, wondering what he’s going to tell his boyfriend. He supposes he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

-

A couple hours of research and an extra trip to the store later, Kaito is fully confident that he can handle this newfound responsibility. He’s obtained the dog’s basic needs, according to the internet. It’ll take a little time to figure out, but he’ll manage. Things always have a way of working out for him in the end.

He does the most dangerous thing one can do with a stray animal: he gives it a name, solidifying his attachment. He calls it Orion, which he thinks is a fitting name for such a big, fearless dog. A proud name. He thinks that Orion likes it, too, given the way his tail wags in response.

Unfortunately, he spends more time figuring out a name than figuring out a selling point for his boyfriend, so when he hears the click of the front doorknob, his first instinct is to panic. The dog is too big to lift, so he hustles it into the bedroom closet instead and slides the door shut, effectively trapping it there until he can find a better solution.

He’s quick to meet his partner at the front door after that, forcing a grin in greeting. “Hey Shuuichi, you’re home a little early today!” he says. He has no idea what time it is. “How was work?”

Shuuichi shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on a hook by the door. “It was all right, I guess. Nothing too exciting.” A hint of a smile plays upon his lips, a sign that as worn out as he probably is, he’s happy to see Kaito, too. “Did you really stay cooped up in here all day?”

“Nah, I went and got groceries,” he says. When Shuuichi raises an eyebrow, he hastily adds, “Only the stuff we needed, though. Don’t worry.”

It’s a half-truth that Kaito doesn’t feel like elaborating on, but Shuuichi’s brow smooths itself out, so he must be satisfied with that answer.

“I see… in that case, maybe I can make something for dinner,” Shuuichi murmurs thoughtfully. “I should change into something more comfortable first, though.”

Shuuichi begins to brush past Kaito to head to their bedroom, and Kaito’s heart jumps into his throat. “Uh- hey, wait a second!”

Shuuichi pauses and glances back at Kaito, his expression one of bemusement. “Hm?”

“I mean, uh.” Kaito fumbles for an excuse, anything to keep Shuuichi from going to peek in the closet. “Maybe we don’t need to make dinner tonight. Maybe we can just, like, go out and get something to eat instead. Right now.”

Shuuichi frowns. “Well… normally I wouldn’t have a problem with that, but I don’t really feel like going anywhere else right now. I’m a little tired since, you know, I just got home and all.”

“Oh. Uh, sure, I get you,” Kaito stammers. “In that case, why don’t we-”

Shuuichi cuts him off, slightly narrowed eyes flicking up and down his body. “Kaito, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re acting kind of strange.”

“Nothing’s going on!” Kaito insists, forcing a laugh. “Nothing at all, just- I haven’t eaten all day, so it’s making me kind of antsy, y’know?”

“You’ve never been a good liar,” Shuuichi says disapprovingly, but his gaze no longer holds Kaito’s. It’s trained on a point near the bottom of Kaito’s shirt, and before Kaito can say anything about it, Shuuichi reaches forward to pluck something off of it. He raises whatever is pinched between his thumb and forefinger to squint at it. “Is this… animal hair?”

Kaito’s tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, and before he can muster a good argument in his defense, a muffled whimper from down the hall breaks the silence. Shuuichi’s eyebrows shoot up, and he gives Kaito a disbelieving stare. “You didn’t.”

Kaito tries for a smile, but it doesn’t feel right. Not that it matters, because in the next few seconds Shuuichi’s already turned on his heel and begun striding down to the bedroom.

“Uh- Shuuichi, hang on a sec,” Kaito stammers, trailing after him, “I can explain-”

“Save it,” Shuuichi sighs, taut with impatience. He enters the bedroom and glances around, and upon finding it empty he steps over to the closet and opens it in one swift, aggravated motion.

Orion stares up at the two of them, one of Shuuichi’s house slippers wedged into his mouth. Shuuichi stares back, open-mouthed. Orion lets his jaws open too, dropping the slobbery, slightly torn article and trotting closer to sniff at Shuuichi.

Shuuichi closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You really brought a dog in here.”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“You brought a dog in here. A big dog,” Shuuichi interrupts him. “And you hid it in the closet. Were you just… planning on keeping it there? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Kaito starts to speak, but Shuuichi shakes his head and cuts him off again. “No, you know what, nevermind. That’s beside the point,” he says, frustration evident in his tone. “You can’t just decide on your own to bring a dog home out of the blue like that.”

“But it was a stray,” Kaito says. “It’s not like it had anywhere else to go- and besides, it wouldn’t stop following me. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Take it to a shelter?” Shuuichi suggests, crossing his arms. “Or, I don’t know, ask around to see if it does belong to someone?”

Kaito frowns, and Shuuichi gives him an exasperated shake of his head as he continues. “Look, I understand feeling bad for it, but we’ve never talked about having a pet before. We don’t know the first thing about handling dogs… and also,” he says, rubbing uneasily at his upper arm as his gaze trails back to Orion, “I’m allergic to animal dandruff.”

Kaito blinks. “Wait, really?”

Shuuichi nods. “I thought I’d mentioned that before, but I guess not.”

“I thought you were just allergic to, like, pollen and shit,” Kaito says, and now he almost feels bad.

“I am, but I react the same way to petting a dog. If I haven’t taken my medication I’ll get a rash, and my nose will start to run, and…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Well, you get the picture. The point is that even as much as I like dogs, I can’t be around them for too long.”

Kaito falls silent. Orion nudges Shuuichi’s hand with his nose, tail wagging, then licks it. Shuuichi’s expression falters.

After a few long moments, Kaito speaks up again. “I already bought some stuff that we’d need to take care of him, but… I guess I could see if one of the neighbors would be willing to take him off our hands and just give it all to them.”

Shuuichi bites his lip, silently letting Orion smell him, and Kaito sighs. “All right, c’mere, Orion. We’ll figure something out.”

“Orion?” Shuuichi asks, taken aback.

“Oh yeah, uh. That’s the name I gave him,” Kaito says. Orion turns around and pads over to him. “It just… felt weird not having something to call him by, I guess.”

“I see.” Shuuichi looks down at the dog again, something unreadable in his eyes. A few seconds pass before the corners of his lips twitch and he points out, “You know this is a female dog, right?”

“Wait, what?” Kaito blurts, unable to conceal his surprise. Shuuichi starts to crack a smile, and Kaito feels his face getting warmer. “I mean, uh- whether the dog’s male or female doesn’t matter. Orion’s still a good name.”

“Right,” Shuuichi says, cupping a palm over his mouth as he so often does when trying not to laugh. “You know that nicknaming breeds attachment, right?”

“I guess, but…” Kaito shrugs. “Well, she got attached to me first.”

Orion stands calmly by Kaito’s side, looking as content as a dog possibly could, and Shuuichi’s eyes flit back and forth between them for a long minute. He purses his lips, exhales long and slow through his nose, and when he talks again his voice is soft and laced with an air of quiet concession. “I’ll do some investigating tomorrow. I want to make sure that she doesn’t belong to anyone around here, and if she really is a stray, then… well, we’ll figure something out.”

Kaito’s back straightens. “Does that mean-”

“I don’t know. I just said we’ll figure something out, that’s all,” Shuuichi says. “And in the meantime, you can take care of her. Just keep in mind that she’s your responsibility, okay?”

Kaito isn’t sure why Shuuichi’s acceptance makes him so giddy, but it does, and he ignores all the conditional statements in favor of scooping Shuuichi into a tight squeeze. “Yes! You’re the best, Shuuichi!”

Shuuichi makes a noise much like a chew toy that’s been stepped on, and only then does Kaito think to release him and let him breathe. Shuuichi dusts himself off with a few heavy puffs and grumbles, “I mean it when I say that I’m not going to be the one taking care of her, regardless of how long we end up keeping her.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you! I can handle her, I swear,” Kaito says with an earnest nod. Then he stops, recalling that he should be concerned. “Wait, but what about your allergies?”

“They should be fine, as long as I’m taking my cetirizine,” Shuuichi assures him. “And we’ll probably need to vacuum and dust more often to get rid of the fur, but other than that… I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Orion’s tongue lolls out lazily, and it almost looks like she’s smiling. Kaito finds himself hoping, however selfishly, that she really doesn’t have anywhere to go home to. He wants to believe that she’ll get to stay.

Exactly two days pass, and the search for an owner proves fruitless. Kaito doesn’t have to do any begging at that point. Shuuichi already lacks the resolve to take Orion to a shelter and effectively abandon her.

Orion stays, and for all of Shuuichi’s prior exasperation, neither of them seem to mind that their house feels a little smaller now.

-

They manage, somehow.

Orion likes to chew footwear, socks and shoes alike. She’s extremely resistant to baths, as Kaito finds the first time he has to chase her around the backyard with a hose because she won’t stay still long enough to get cleaned. Keeping her off of the couch and the bed proves to be a futile endeavor, and Shuuichi has to make a point to keep a lint roller handy. In spite of all that, they manage, and as weeks pass Kaito starts to forget what it was like to come home without being greeted by the excited skittering of Orion’s paws against the hardwood floor.

He sits on the couch with her curled up at one of his sides and Shuuichi leaning against his other one day, and it all feels so absurdly normal. His fingers idly massage the back of Orion’s neck, and his eyes go in and out of focus as Shuuichi switches on the TV to look for one of the crime shows he recorded.

He tilts his head to peer down at Orion. Her face is half-smushed against his thigh, her eyes closed and her ears twitching faintly. He can’t fight the grin that forms on his face at that, and he whispers, “Hey, Shuuichi,” as though he’s sharing some kind of secret. “Look at her. You think she’s dreaming?”

Shuuichi looks at Kaito and then at Orion, and he starts to smile a bit, too. “I’m not sure, but she seems happy regardless,” he says. “Then again, she’s probably happy a lot of the time, since she spends at least twelve hours a day napping in places she shouldn’t.”

“Nah. If anything, she’s happy because she’s got people to take care of her,” Kaito says, patting her head gently. “People are like that too, you know?”

“I suppose?” Shuuichi’s vision returns to the TV. “I’d say with people it’s a bit different, though.”

“Well, duh,” Kaito says. “But the principle’s still the same. We need people.”

“Ah.” Something akin to understanding flashes in Shuuichi’s eyes, though he’s not looking at Kaito. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. Otherwise there would be no point in families.”

“Yeah, you get me.” Kaito lets his head fall back against the couch cushions then, staring up at the patterned plaster of the ceiling and contemplating Shuuichi’s words. Families… they’re a family, aren’t they? An arguably complete one, he thinks, though some would probably disagree. Not that he cares what other people think, of course not, because if he did he wouldn’t be cohabiting with Shuuichi in the first place.

Still, his train of thought takes odd turns as it always does, and before he can tether his tongue back to his consciousness he asks, “Do you think having a dog is anything like having a kid?”

“Huh?” Startled, Shuuichi gives Kaito his full attention again.

“Ah, nevermind. That was a weird question.”

“Well. It was, but mostly because it was totally out of the blue,” Shuuichi says, shoulders tight with something Kaito can’t identify. “Why do you ask?”

“Because people always coddle their pets and say they’re like their kids and shit,” Kaito replies, still aimlessly thumbing over Orion’s ears. “And that always struck me as kinda weird beforehand, but now I think I get it. I don’t know if having a pet is anything like having a kid, and I don’t think I want to, but we can sort of think of Orion that way, right? Like, she fills that space.”

“I see.” Shuuichi seems to relax a bit at that. “I don’t have a point of reference for how kids act, besides what I’ve seen when helping out Harukawa-san… and frankly, I don’t think I want to, either. To be honest, managing Orion is difficult enough.”

“You think so? I don’t think it’s that hard,” Kaito says. It’s half a lie, because Orion is tricky to deal with sometimes, but Kaito’s figured out by now that that’s simply part and parcel of the dog ownership experience.

“Well, it isn’t much harder than managing you, at least,” Shuuichi quips, and Kaito is almost too stunned to be indignant.

“H- Hey! Don’t go making me sound like a little kid!” he protests, but he’s not really mad. He can’t be when he can so clearly see Shuuichi trying not to giggle. “Besides, I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need to be ‘managed’.”

“I don’t know about that,” Shuuichi teases. “But at least I’m not allergic to you. I don’t know what I’d do then.”

Kaito scoffs and tousles Shuuichi’s hair in a deliberate attempt to muss it, and Shuuichi snickers and elbows Kaito in the side, and Kaito responds by digging his fingers into Shuuichi’s own sides to make him squeal.

Orion jumps a bit at the noise, then observes them with her ears raised. Kaito pulls away from Shuuichi to scratch beneath her chin. “Whoops- sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Shuuichi rolls his eyes and settles back against Kaito’s shoulder. “You really are something else.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Kaito asks.

“It is,” Shuuichi replies softly, then after a beat adds, “usually.”

Kaito pretends to act annoyed and Shuuichi laughs and Orion, disturbed by the noise they’re making, crankily gets up to flop down at the opposite end of the couch. It’s like clockwork, a clearly molded routine taking shape. It’s a bit rowdier than it was before, but none of them seem to have any problems with it, given the way Orion contentedly huffs and the smile that won’t leave Shuuichi’s face.

Kaito no longer considers himself a gambling man, but he concludes that it’s worth believing that good things happen by chance.

#saimota #ndrv3 #shuuichi saihara #kaito momota #submission

[thewonderginger]

Asexual Ward Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 IS UP Y’ALL!!!!

An Empty Vessel But A Full Heart

Chapter 3 --> Follow me on Ao3!

Moving Forward, Falling Back

Ward and his younger sister Joy explore an LGBT event at their school but it ends a bit darker than they anticipate.

---------------------

Two months later

“You’ve got to try these rainbow macaroons,” Joy exclaimed holding the treat to Ward’s face.  He smiled at his sister and took it from her hand stuffing the whole thing in his mouth.  

“Is reary goord,” he mumbled through the food accidently breathing out some bits on Joy’s shoulder.

“EW!” she cried and Ward laughed at her as she brushed the crumbs off herself.  They headed to the next booth in the school common area.  This one was advertising drag performances.  Ward swallowed the sweet cookie as Joy grabbed a flier, her mentioning how beautiful all the women were and that she and Ward should get a front seat.

“Yes because I want a sexy man in a sexy dress to give me a lapdance while my sister watches,” he joked as they meandered down the rainbow clad event, booths lining the sidewalks as people meandered from one table to the other.

“They’re not strippers, they’re performers,” Joy informed him, tucking her short hair behind her ear.  She had dyed it a dark brown and for the first time they looked like brother and sister.  “They don’t give you lap dances”.

“Oh,” Ward replied.  They were coming up to a white man in short shorts and a tank top standing next to a cone taller than him, small flags of many colors poking through like porcupine spikes.

“Get your pride flags folks!” the vendor shouted.  “Support men’s shelters with five dollar pride flags.  We got homosexual, lesbosexual, pansexual, bisexual…”.

Joy skipped towards the man as Ward watched her excitingly decide on a flag.  She was estatic to come to this school next year since she was graduating high school early.  He’d never show it but he was more impatient about her attending than she was. He was ready to have someone around who understood him even if she didn’t know everything.  Joy paid the vendor and returned to Ward waving a magenta, lavender, and blue striped flag.

“Did you want to tell me something?” Ward joked.

“Its for you doofus,” she said tickling his nose with the fabric which he flicked out of his face.  “Trying to be supportive of the bisexual community.  Is that okay bisexual community?”

Ward snorted and they continued through the event, watching performances, learning about school clubs, and of course Joy wanted to join all of them.  She could probably run all of them too, Ward thought to himself feeling both extremely proud and extremely jealous.  

They were about to leave for dinner when they came across a booth of people dressed in purple shirts.  Joy went up to the table eager to learn as always and Ward followed her, the little flag sticking out of his back jean pocket.  The booth had a black, white, gray, and purple striped flag in front with the the text reading “A-SEXY AND WE KNOW IT!”  There were fliers and pamphlets and few stuffed toy plants with little happy faces embroidered on them.  Joy would love those.  Heck, Ward loved them.

He started listening to the person at the booth (“Well there’s aromantic, asexual, its a small community but awareness of these orientations is growing. Some people don’t experience…”) when he saw Jesse across the yard.  Ward moved to stand behind a tall banner next to the booth removing himself from Jesse’s possible view. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help but look at him.  Jesse was helping fold up a booth table a good ways away from where Ward was.  Two guys lifted the table and waved at Jesse, him returning the gesture, when a tall black guy walked up behind him.  Jesse turned and immediately kissed the man.  Ward was stung but an immediate numbness radiated over it as his lids drooped down.  There was no point in being shocked or hurt.  Ward was about to look away and ask Joy to hurry up when he saw the pair make a sudden move.  The guy took Jesse behind a tall banner on their side but before they were completely covered, the guy’s hand latched on to Jesse’s groin who responded by biting his bottom lip.  Ward looked away dropping his head and then just started walking.  He only got ten feet when Joy came sprinting after him.

“Ward, where are you going?” she exclaimed holding a booklet from the booth in her hand.  She took his arm and he turned towards her looking over her head.

“I’m just hungry,” he said blankly.  “Let's, uh, let's go”.  He continued down the path and at first Joy didn’t follow.  Then she came at him again quickly, grabbing his arm and moving him faster down the sidewalk.

“I didn’t see him there, oh my God,” she stated.  “Yeah for sure let's go.  I’m sorry”.

Joy met Jesse a few times.  They got along well.  Like brother and sister.  She said she couldn’t wait to have a new Meachum in the family if that's the surname they took.  Ward screwed that relationship up for her.  Another reason why it's better for him to be alone.  This pain sucked but hurting Joy would be the worst thing he could ever do.  

He wiped his eye with his thumb as they stood in the elevator to their car.  He was holding the pride flag against his leg but he was feeling anything but proud. Joy held his arm the whole time and it was a comfort.  But she didn’t know the whole story.  Just the break up, just the heartbreak over one relationship.  He was too ashamed to tell her the whole truth but he made sure she knew it was his fault.  She said it wasn’t but she didn’t know.  And she never would.

They made it to Ward’s car in the structure as Joy leafed through the booklet.  They entered the vehicle as Ward turned on the ignition.  Before he could put the car in reverse a text went off on his phone.  It was from his dad but he put the name in his phone as 'Work’ to avoid suspicion.  He was about to open the message when Joy made a curious noise.  Ward looked at her and she glanced at him reading out loud from the booklet.

“‘ Asexuality’ ,” she read. “‘ A sexual orientation where the person does not experience sexual attraction’.   Hmm,” she nodded.  “‘ Though the spectrum is wide and various most ace people may not participate in sexual conduct and/or intercourse ”.  Joy nodded again then threw the booklet into the backseat.  “Sounds like these people just need to get laid”.

Ward smiled at the comment when another text message alerted on his phone.  This time from Franklin.  He opened the message from the head of the board and read the words.  Then he read them again.  Then he read them another time trying to get the message through his brain.  His face must have looked shocked because Joy’s voice was concerned.

“Ward whats’ wrong?”

He looked at her and then back at the text.  “Um, it's Markowitz”.

“What did that bitch do now?” Joy said exasperated but Ward shook his head holding out his hand for her to stop.

“Her daughter committed suicide,” he finally said.  Joy looked at him with wide eyes.  “She’s quitting.  ‘ Effective immediately’ ,” he read from his phone screen.

Notes:

I totally forget that east coast colleges are different from west coast so if you've been to Columbia and my layout description is different I'm sorry I've never left the west coast and I am trash. Also short chapter this time because I'm giving myself time to catch up.

#ward meachum #fan fiction #asexual ward meachum #ace!ward #asexual fan fiction #iron fist #ward meachum fanfiction

[whisperthatruns]

           I want to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, there’s not enough            troops in the army to force the southern people to break            down segregation and accept the Negro [pronounced Nigra]            into our theatres, into our swimming pools, into our homes,            and into our churches.                                    —Strom Thurmond, South Carolina                                    Senator and Presidential Candidate                                         for the States’ Rights Party, 1948            I said, “I’m gonna fight Thurmond from the mountain to            the sea.”                                    —Modjeska Monteith Simkins, Civil                              Rights Matriarch, South Carolina, 1948

The youngest has been married off. He is as tall as Abraham Lincoln. Here, on his wedding day, he flaunts the high spinning laugh of a newly freed slave. I stand above him, just off the second-floor landing, watching the celebration unfold. Uncle-cousins, bosom buddies, convertible cars of nosy paramours, strolling churlish penny- pinchers pour onto the mansion estate. Below, Strom Thurmond is dancing with my mother. The favorite son of South Carolina has already danced with the giddy bride and the giddy bride's mother. More women await: Easter dressy, drenched in caramel, double exposed, triple cinched, lined up, leggy, ready. I refuse to leave the porch. If I walk down I imagine he will extend his hand, assume I am next in his happy darky line, #427 on his dance card. His history and mine, burnt cork and blackboard chalk, concentric, pancaked, one face, two histories, slow dragging, doing the nasty. My father knows all this. Daddy's Black Chief Justice legs straddle the boilerplate carapace of the CSS H.L. Hunley, lost Confederate submarine, soon to be found just off the coast of Charleston. He keeps it fully submerged by applying the weight of every treatise he has ever written against the death penalty of South Carolina. Chanting "Briggs v. Elliott," he keeps the ironside door of the submarine shut. No hands. His eyes are a Black father's beacon, search- lights blazing for the married-off sons, and on the unmarried, whale-eyed, nose-in-book daughter, born unmoored, quiet, yellow, strategically placed under the hospital lights to fully bake. The one with the most to lose. There will be no trouble. Still, he chain- smokes. A burning stick of mint & Indian leaf seesaws between his lips. He wants me to remember that trouble is a fire that runs like a staircase up then down. Even on a beautiful day in June. I remember the new research just out: What the Negro gave America Chapter 9,206: Enslaved Africans gifted porches to North America. Once off the boats they were told, then made, to build themselves a place--to live. They build the house that will keep them alive. Rather than be the bloody human floret on yet another southern tree, they imagine higher ground. They build landings with floor enough to see the trouble coming. Their arced imaginations nail the necessary out into the floral air. On the backs and fronts of twentypenny houses, a watching place is made for the ones who will come tipping with torch & hog tie through the quiet woods, hoping to hang them as decoration in the porcupine hair of longleaf. The architecture of Black people is sui generis. This is architecture dreamed by the enslaved: Their design will be stolen. Their wits will outlast gold. My eyes seek historical rest from the kiss- kiss theater below; Strom Thurmond's it's-never-too-late-to-forgive-me chivaree. I search the tops of yellow pine while my fingers reach, catch, pinch my father's determined-to-rise smoke. Long before AC African people did the math: how to cool down the hot air of South Carolina? If I could descend, without being trotted out by some roughrider driven by his submarine dreams, this is what I'd take my time and scribble into the three-tiered, white crème wedding cake: Filibuster. States' Rights. The Grand Inquisition of the great Thurgood Marshall. This wedding reception would not have been possible without the Civil Rights Act of 1957 (opposed by you-know-who). The Dixiecrat senator has not worn his sandy seersucker fedora to the vows. The top of Strom Thurmond's bald head reveals a birthmark tattooed in contrapposto pose: Segregation Forever. All my life he has been the face of hatred; the blue eyes of the Confederate flag, the pasty bald of white men pulling wooly heads up into the dark skirts of trees, the sharp, slobbering, amber teeth of German shepherds, still clenched inside the tissue-thin, (still-marching), band-leader legs of Black schoolteachers, the single- minded pupae growing between the legs of white boys crossing the tracks, ready to force Black girls into fifth-grade positions, Palmetto state-sanctioned sex 101. I don't want to dance with him. My young cousin arrives at my elbow. Her beautiful lips the color of soft-skin mangoes. She pulls, teasing the stitches of my satin bridesmaid gown, "You better go on down there and dance with Strom-- while he still has something left." I don't tell her it is unsouthern for her to call him by his first name, as if they are familiar. I don't tell her: To bear witness to marriage is to believe that everything moving through the sweet wedding air can be confidently, left-- to Love. I stand on the landing high above the beginnings of Love, holding a plastic champagne flute, drinking in the warm June air of South Carolina. I hear my youngest brother's top hat joy. Looking down I find him, deep in the giddy crowd, modern, integrated, interpretive. For ten seconds I consider dancing with Strom. His Confederate hands touch every shoulder, finger, back that I love. I listen to the sound of Black laughter shimmying. All worry floats beyond the gurgling submarine bubbles, the white railing, every drop of champagne air. I close my eyes and Uncle Freddie appears out of a baby's breath of fog. (The dead are never porch bound.) He moves with ease where I cannot. He walks out on the rice-thrown air, heaving a lightning bolt instead of a wave. Suddenly, there is a table set, complete with 1963 dining room stars, they twinkle twinkle up & behind him. Thelonious, Martin, Malcolm, Nina, Dakota, all mouths Negro wide & open have come to sing me down. His tattered almanac sleeps curled like a wintering slug in his back pocket. His dark Dogon eyes jet to the scene below, then zoom past me until they are lost in the waning sugilite sky. Turning in the shadows of the wheat fields, he whispers a truth plucked from the foreword tucked in his back pocket: Veritas: Black people will forgive you quicker than you can say Orangeburg Massacre. History does not keep books on the handiwork of slaves. But the enslaved who built this Big House, long before I arrived for this big wedding, knew the power of a porch. This native necessity of nailing down a place, for the cooling off of air, in order to lift the friendly, the kindly, the so politely, the in-love-ly, jubilant, into the arms of the grand peculiar, for the greater good of the public spectacular: us giving us away.

Nikky Finney, “Dancing with Strom,” Head-Off & Split (TriQuarterly Books, 2011)

#nikky finney #dancing with strom #head off & split #poetry #anti black racism for ts #slavery for ts #lynching for ts #long post for ts #fathers for ts

[mirrorstone]

Have I mentioned my Beanstalk romance and sexuality headcanons because boy do I have a lot of them. I would apologize for my reprehensible shipping, but I’m not sorry. I’m a little sorry I’m not sorry though, so there’s that.

Jack is bi. Jack is really really bi. Since he grew up with a huge family surrounded by relationships and crushes in every gender combination, Jack tends to just forget that straight is a thing people can be unless he’s explicitly reminded. This makes him terrible to try to confide in about your unrequited crush. He’s very casual about touching if he doesn’t get ‘please back off’ signals, and is not great at recognizing where most people draw the line between platonic and romantic touching. He’s probably left a string of crushes behind him because he didn’t watch where he aimed his carefree grin and really good hugs. (Jack gives fantastic hugs and you can’t tell me otherwise. He’s big and warm and he wraps his arms all the way around you and maybe lifts you up some, and holds you for as long as you want without making it awkward.) Jack had a really big puppy crush on Liam for a while after he arrived, but it faded quickly because 1. Liam did nothing to encourage it and 2. Bea. Jack falls in loyalty much easier than he falls in love.

George is mostly interested in girls but largely uninterested in romance. When she thinks about settling down it’s in a single apartment near a university with books and maybe a cat, and does not necessarily include a significant other although if someone brought it up she’d agree that it probably sounds nice. She had a little on and off thing with May when they crossed paths but it never progressed beyond kissing, and they both knew it couldn’t really be serious or sustainable. Everyone joked that she and Jack were a couple but they never saw each other romantically.  They love each other, but it’s loyal, die for you, slightly too co-dependent, shieldbrother love, not romantic love. Not that the two of them (and the three of them when they still had Liam) didn’t have some intense platonic cuddlepiles though. It gets cold in the mountains and George simply does not care enough to lose at no romo chicken.

Laney is demi, and was always quietly resistant to the idea of romance. She wasn’t going to go into a diplomatic arranged marriage, and she definitely wasn’t going to waste her time slobbering all over one of her peers. She has trouble relating to other people’s relationships or seeing the attraction in them. She doesn’t have any interest in touching or kissing anyone, unless she knows them very well and is starting to fall for them. The quickest way to completely lose her interest forever is to try to impress her by out-competing her, and she will shoot someone down hard and fast for it. She falls in love slowly and reluctantly, and she doesn’t quite trust the process. It takes her a while to accept it. She doesn’t want to be dramatically wooed or pursued, but she does want the object of her affections to court her and show her they care. Winning Laney’s heart is all about having her back and noticing the small things.

Rupert is bi-romantic ace, and he loves traditional, old-fashioned romance. He’s not one for big, extravagant gestures, but he’s the sort to come home with a bouquet of roses to make them happy, who never forgets anniversaries or their favorite food, who tucks a note and a snack into their pocket where they’ll find it later in the day just when they need it. He has some issues about being touched (which get especially strong post Remember the Dust) and needs partners who are patient and very respectful of his boundaries. He dated a few schoolmates, but they were always casual relationships, without a passionate spark like he secretly hoped for. His shortest relationship was with a boyfriend who didn’t respect his comfort zone about touching and sex, so Rupert ended it. He’s very conscious of what makes a healthy relationship and red flags, and he gives excellent relationship advice.

Grey is aromantic asexual. He caught a mention of it in a book, realized it was relevant, then hunted up the definitive books on the subject of sexuality, read them cover to cover, and quietly concluded that this was what applied to him. Once he had it safely labelled and defined, he got on with the rest of his reading. It’s important to be precise and categorize things properly. If Grey was ever the subject of a quiet crush from a fellow sage, they never confessed, which is good because Grey would have turned them down so bluntly and summarily that it would have been rude, and then he wouldn’t have understood why they started tearing up because he was just being informative. (He would have felt bad though.)

Post Remember the Dust, all four of them live together and they are A Thing. Is it a romantic thing? Is it a platonic thing? Is it a currently platonic but possibly moving towards romantic thing? No one is entirely sure. They’re certainly not, but what is certain is that the four of them are going to spend the rest of their lives together. (I’m not certain either frankly, I am equally happy with either them being poly for each other and Grey is there too because they are his regardless of his romantic disinterest, or being platonic.)

And some bonus reprehensible trash because being a homestuck means never not being able to ruin everything you touch with quadrants:

Jack<>George: Jack and George were moirails. They were textbook moirails, they were the the platonic ideal of moirails. All the places where one fit into the other, where one compensated for the other without thinking, all those co-dependent, fight with you, kill for you, foxhole bond, breathe in sync feelings are the moirailegiance stories are made of. And then, Jack left.

Jack<>Grey: Oops kiddo, you spilled your protective instincts all over the place, now look what you’ve done

Jack<3<The Seeress: Imagine that scene from Mulan where the guard lights the signal pyre, except instead of a pyre it’s a big pile of garbage and instead of a guard it’s me. Now all of China knows I have reprehensible ships. (You will pry this hideous hatemance out of my cold dead hands.)

#beanstalk #echoes of a giantkiller #remember the dust #leagues and legends #beanstalk brigade

[havenpell]

on one single giant team

go for it aligned right off the top sitting at this desk right her outside im in to flop thinking down the tube i open up the rain propping up these lyrics with a super nova brain who is this dude focused on these keys he doesn’t ever compromise he stays strong at the knees built like a tank meditates to bank car a coupe of transport filled with hos who will not gank these bitches wanna fuck they all up on my dick what they don't know I'm selective where I stick my bat in their tiny chatte more french for all you francophiles an s coupe I will pat ego gone samadhi is the course paid this patience at t intention no remorse delicate ensemble a gangster glance upholds placing my attention the spirit shows the molds fuck machine crushing all these hos walking with their pussies tucked neat between their toes purses full of cash until it’s obsolete compression stance I got my pants light beneath my feet Good night Irene rap your twat around my pipe better make it clean with paper as I type digital nuisance a stoop at an old club data enter once set the meeting in the tub I need to debut and show this world my stage record deal with self the door to this new page save back it up real rhythm sent downrange comes a rapper scaring bitches who are bent on real close action lighter at my side life stick these hos pay me none will be my bride case on feels better for these songs got the proper shot now to jungle where its long overdue for summer fingers hit the spot thank you google nexus I'm back on this whole new pot does it really hold the data set I'm free backed up as I type it now I gotta just be me killing off the reals not sure how it all pops reading in my curtain shades to fifty I go tops yes I'm back in line blissful this return thoughtless action dictates an early morning burn slowly over falls the ever present plunge one point mind my focus line empty full the dunge rick resting in my hands cool calm to this here touch I like it close to metal now I need to see this much further down the road for enter where it be I love the close to metal wrote that twice plus six you see that I've got it dialed smooth and fast it goes now I'm rocking faster and you know that I got hos comparison weak but I like to see here finally got the troll rock that slices through the fear the case I do not need it's back in this good hand how does this thing feel decisions drilling through my gland I line up here to steal the rap game like I said all taken from the top hijacked it now i’m dead a clown face this b. higher hills all rest above I'm down here in the flats what about my love? off case my fingers taps thumbs they act shu be where oh where does this ball move I'm here to channel chi faster global mobile to the keys making all these beats with rhythms to the breeze chilling out in style watching it all move crystal meritocracy gets me right in the groove so to speak and so to make it sound pretzel dose of salt keep it from the ground above and in the pocket where it all turns out generate the silence ignore all those who pout the phone is now my handle the lens is my commune grouped in kill her tempo tomorrow is full moon that's whassup boulevard of stars Best mc all time don't exist just my bars flow in the streets master in the sheets bitches holding knives cool walking feats full moon standard where it all began Frank rizzo with connections all invited if you can capacity full a bridge across a moat purple lounge resting as I check out this boat what a city what a wicked place jars pressing canisters buildings built on pace exclusive retro fitting as long as you have cash power in the vortex with a reptile born to lash out at all the demons and crying flying drones tapped in to the lyrics with these dedicated moans women cumming true thoughts all bounce and drip peaceful beneath sleigh bells till palm trees make it flip it wasn't a mistake the best hook in the game can I improve or will it will remain just as it was for you it as you were potable my measure these women want to purr little cats some be oversize a button and a passage a cavalcade of lies lines don't hold truth stands out can you set the exp lead it to a rout this corner head I nod reasons in the dark candles lit above me in this wonder one filled park blessings in disguise removal of the mask a present given taxi a truck up to the task in n out I've hit this shot before codes in the cancel women running more total meditation obsolete at best present bring my fortress a body built to test so listen up close to my message and my name i’ll show you all for certain how to unwind this whole game we’re leading by example all lining up in line walk the walk we all talkie only mine is what’s mine earned not burned don’t need to take by force if it’s up for grabs then it’s different of course but if someone’s out there chillin’ and you’re still there think of killin’ look inside at motivation understand why you be drillin’ conscious action at the tip of your sword it’s by your hip hold these cops to highest standards if they clown then bring the whip of collective vision the jury of all times they walk the straight and no row less their mock ups turn to fines ideal not needed just basics at the core for those who can’t handle here’s a pathway to the door of ignorance and planks how come it comes to that? master slave in the physical holly epic hat revolution here let’s all get in gear see the truth for what it is take the wheel and steer source it’s key we all know where to be keep each other in check a vouch it aint free cause it’s earned with moves as we navigate the board watch out for games-a-running just stay true to your chord know what’s what and know who’s where don’t let bamas enter and tussle your hair neck up is all you and all neck down no on has the right to tock tick your crown your life is yours and so is your space if they give you and beef say oh my ace i found another bama who’s trying to take control label vouch hash tag flag this one on the dole it’s balance at its best dark v light guess who wins? easy victory for the beam snakes losing their grins Everybody knows Every single thing The breath is the connector All the particles sing Unison chord Pirates are ignored Ants crawling on the sidewalk Bipedally adored Why? I know. I can explain it all Maybe not all in total But one day when I'm a ball Potato bug curled Inside my tiny moat Defensive recognition As the cyborgs simply float On by My eternal dream Sequence plays with beats and poses As the weeping girl screams Out loud For some kind of cause Kindled quick then burned back up Nothing more than just a clause A rote play He said it so clean Conscious folding on itself On one single giant team No separation here Islands crash boat goes off course Watch my words and here my music Cracking codes like oldie morse