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lightseoul · 1 year

Text

prove it

synopsis. bakugou katsuki starts acting differently after your last conversation. you finally arrive at an agreement. (part 1) (part 2)

cw. fem!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~24 yrs old), lots of cussing

word count. 3.6k words

a/n. the last part of the series! thanks so much for all the love on the first two parts, everyone! i had such fun writing this <3 again, reblogs, tags, and comments will be highly appreciated!

You barely slept a wink that night.

After that exchange with Bakugou, you immediately left his office, not even bothering to greet his secretary (partly because you couldn’t bear the possibility of her overhearing), and headed straight to your desk.

A feeble attempt at going back to work was made, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you actually got something done.

Even as you commuted your way home and got ready for bed, your brain wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation, lingering especially on his loaded confession.

He still loves you.

What now?

Sadly, just because you're marred by sleep deficit and boy problems doesn't mean you get to miss out on work. You now walk down the hallway of your floor on the way to the break room, desperate to inject some caffeine into your system to get you through the day.

And to help you focus and get your mind off of Bakugou fucking Katsuki, thank you very much.

You’re one foot into the room when it suddenly dawns on you how you consumed the last pod of your favorite brew yesterday (before all the shit went down), which means that you’re now out and caffeine-less.

Fuck.

“Well, don’t you look like shit.”

Mikuri hums from her favorite spot on the sofa, a cup of what you think is green tea in her hands.

“Thanks?” you mumble begrudgingly as you plop yourself across from her, mood growing sourer by the minute.

“What’s up with you?” she sounds amused, a brow quirked in question.

You sigh, smoothing the wrinkle on your blazer you didn’t have the energy to iron out that morning. “Am sleep-deprived and out of coffee. Not everyone can be chipper like you on this fine day, I guess.”

“No, you’re not?”

You sit up, eyes narrowing, “You mean to say I look like shit normally and not just because I didn’t get enough sleep?”

She frowns, “You know that’s not what I mean. What I meant is that no, you’re not out of coffee.”

“Look,” she gestures to the beverage area with her free hand.

Your brows shoot up in response as you take in the freshly stocked shelf.

Weird, you think to yourself.

You were normally the one to restock on that specific flavor, being the only one on your floor who is partial to it.

Unless…

You shake your head to rid yourself of the unwelcome thoughts, willing to crush the butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Mikuri doesn’t get the chance to comment on your unusual behavior because the Performance Management head of your HR team pops in through the door, a grin adorning his face.

“Good morning, boss! See you in 15.”

Yamakawa, the Recruitment head, rifles through her documents before standing up to distribute them to you and the other sub-department leads.

She goes around the room to hand you what seems to be a substantial amount of pages, “Here’s the status report on Bakugou’s new sidekick.”

“Already?” you splutter, gaining the attention of your direct subordinates. You straighten up, slightly embarrassed. “I thought they’re just starting today?”

“Yeah, well. We figured you’d want to hear it,” Yamakawa says as she gets seated and goes through her copy.

“Get this,” she continues, “he’s way more cooperative than we predicted him to be. Moriyama-san, or Water Jet Hero: Aqua Girl, is already in his office, discussing—” she glances at the report, “—battle strategies and joint training schedules as we speak.”

The others hum in acknowledgment as you sit there, still struggling to wrap your head around what was just said.

“And no one coerced him to do this?” Tanaka, the Performance Management head, pipes in. You whip to look at Yamakawa, anticipating her answer.

“Apparently, he emailed Moriyama-san yesterday himself to set the meeting.”

Delighted noises erupt across the room as you stare at the Recruitment head in disbelief.

“This is great news, right?” the Socialization head exclaims. “If we’re talking long-term, Bakugou’s workload will definitely lessen with a good sidekick around, meaning we’ll get fewer angry outbursts and a more decent-to-be-around boss!”

You know they’re making sense, and that this is supposed to be amazing news to hear as the HR department head, but you can’t help the tinge of anticipatory dread rising in your gut.

“Why don’t you seem happy?” Tanaka asks you, before turning to the others. “Hey, why isn’t Y/N happy?”

The unusual events don’t end after that.

To your surprise, Bakugou starts to attend meetings that concern him, instead of the usual—letting Kirishima do all the coordinating with you and your department. He’s even offered to help you with your analysis report on his new sidekick (quite awkwardly, at that), which you so quickly and frantically declined in front of everyone.

You suspect your subordinates are starting to deem you as weird, too.

If they only knew.

Regardless, with each passing day, you seem to be seeing more and more of him around the office, and needless to say, it’s messing with your head.

The always-stocked shelf of coffee isn’t helping either.

It’s gotten to the point where it’s starting to affect your sleep as well, with how much you overthink these sudden changes in his behavior.

In an attempt to get your mind off him and the confusing mix of hope and dread circling your stomach, you start to drown yourself in work.

Ah, your ever-trusty friend: avoidance.

You stand by the coffee machine as it does its magic, your foot tapping against the floor impatiently. You glance at the wall clock, which reads 8:01 PM.

You sigh, grabbing the freshly brewed beverage not even a second after the machine dings.

It’s been two weeks since that heated conversation with Bakugou, and one since your self-mandated oath to bury yourself with work, at least until your thoughts get a little bit less muddled and Bakugou stops acting differently.

“You’re still here?”

You startle from your absentminded stirring and look toward the source of the voice.

Speak of the devil.

Seeming as though he’s fresh from a shower, you stare at Bakugou as he stands by the doorway of the break room.

You eye the duffel bag that’s slung over his shoulder.

“You’re leaving already?”

Fuck, you think to yourself. Now you feel like a creep for knowing that Bakugou leaving two hours after his shift is considered early in his dictionary.

And now you feel stupid for answering his question with another question.

What’s gotten into you?

“Yeah,” he answers curtly, not offering much of an explanation. “What’re you doing working overtime?”

You place the mug on the marble countertop and cringe when it makes a loud, clashing noise.

You turn back to face him. “Have to work on the biannual report.” You shrug, as nonchalantly as you can, “It’s due soon.”

Bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, shifting on his feet.

“Well, thank you for your hard work,” he offers. “And for—uh—helping me choose my sidekick.”

Your stomach whirls in delight despite yourself.

You clear your throat, “Again, I was just doing my job.”

At that, he deflates ever so minutely, so you follow it up with: “But you’re welcome. I heard you’re thinking of hiring another one?”

“Yeah, just to help with the workload,” he nods. “I met him yesterday.”

“...You’re right, by the way,” Bakugou adds after a few seconds pass without you saying anything.

“Huh?”

He looks away, breaking eye contact. “I don’t like how similar we are. But he’s good.”

You have no idea how he knew you said that.

Scratch that—it was probably Kirishima.

Damn that meddler.

You clear your throat again in an attempt to change the subject and drop the conversation in its entirety.

“Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night.”

Bakugou meets your eye again, and for a moment he looks like he’s about to say something, then hesitates.

He opens his mouth ever so slightly before closing it again, eyes still fixed on you, before simply saying: “You too.”

At that, he turns on his heel and trudges towards the elevators.

Once you’re sure he’s out of sight and earshot, you bring your hand up to clutch at your heart, which is going at an alarmingly fast rate.

“Shit.”

You can’t still be in love with him?

“What?!” Mina hops on her feet, almost knocking your glass of iced tea off the table.

“Dude, you’ve got to stop doing that,” you seethe, looking around your go-to café. It’s unusually barren on a Saturday afternoon.

You look back at her, “People stare, you know. And besides, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!” she parrots incredulously.

“Just—” you scramble for words, “please sit back down?”

At your pleading tone, Mina finally gets seated, but her pinched eyebrows tell you she’s far from being done with the conversation.

“Fine,” she relents, “but you’ve got some explaining to do, missy.”

You sigh, “Okay. What do I have to explain to you?”

“Wha—” she starts, aghast, “I mean—first of all, why the fuck are you asking me to contact your blind date when three weeks ago, you were practically disgusted with the idea of going on one?”

“We talked,” you shift your eyes away from her. “Bakugou and I.”

Mina snorts.

“Let me guess. You realized you still love him?”

Your head whips to look at her, “Mina!”

“What?” she spits back. “Don’t use that accusatory tone on me.”

“I have the right to use this accusatory tone on you. I have a feeling a certain someone broke her promise about not saying anything about our last conversation with Bakugou.”

At that, Mina visibly cringes.

“In my defense,” she starts, voice raised, “it was only because that cemented how you’re both still into each other!”

You scoff.

“Aren’t you?” she presses, shooting you a pointed look, “Still into him?”

“I—I don’t know okay,” you raise your voice, inadvertently catching a few café-goers’ attention. You sink back into your seat in embarrassment.

“All I know is that the circumstances between us still haven’t changed. And that this shit is confusing—he’s confusing.”

You wave your hand around vaguely, “He’s been acting all weird and stuff.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters…”

“Hmmm…”

“What do you mean, hmmm?” you ask, exasperated.

She rolls her eyes at you, “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that he’s trying to prove you something?”

At that, your heart leaps in your throat. You push it down, though, as best as you can. Crossing your arms across your chest, you huff.

“If he thinks restocking my coffee for me is proving something, he’s got another thing coming for him.”

Mina guffaws, and you can’t help the smile that creeps on your face. Once the laughter has died down, though, she eyes you for a moment before sighing in resignation.

She picks up her phone and thumbs out something on her keyboard.

“Well, you’re in luck,” she starts, “Daichi-san is still interested in meeting you.”

You don’t know whether to be annoyed at Mina for ignoring your earlier request to cancel or be grateful for indulging you on your current one.

Not wanting to change her mind, you merely opt for mumbling a quick ‘thank you’, glancing at your phone as it dings with a message from her containing the engineer’s number.

You look around the interior of the restaurant, past the windows of the private room you’re in where a beautiful traditional garden lies, illuminated by the dim orange outdoor lighting.

You chance a peek at Daichi, who is already looking at you when your eyes meet.

Embarrassed, you look down at your ridiculously elaborate main course, finding yourself grateful that you opted for the fancier of your two dresses earlier this evening.

“So,” he breaks the silence as he pours you a glass of wine whose name you can’t even begin to pronounce. “Ashido-san told me you work at the Ground Riot agency?”

“Yes,” you smile gratefully as you bring your glass to your lips and take a sip. “I’ve been working there for a year now.”

“Must be exciting, huh?” he adds pleasantly, “working for top Pro Heroes?”

Man.

You purse your lips together, not wanting to seem stilted by the question. “It is. It can get quite hectic, though.”

He hums in agreement, “I get that.”

Daichi then proceeds to talk about the agency where he works, and normally you’d be kind enough to actively listen and throw in some follow-up questions, but your mind is now drifting towards Bakugou and your last encounter at the mention of the Pro Hero.

What did he want to say to you?

“L/N-san?”

“Huh?”

Daichi chuckles awkwardly, “I was just asking if you wanted some spice on your salmon."

Spice.

Bakugou would’ve wanted some.

Bakugou, you think to yourself.

Bakugou.

“Bakugou?”

You gape at the figure looming over your dining table.

The very man is standing there in his regular clothes that would’ve disguised his identity if it weren’t for his distinct blonde hair and hulking figure.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I need to talk to you.”

You nervously glance at your date, who seems to be starstruck by the Pro Hero in front of him.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something?” you whisper-shout.

Bakugou barely pays him any attention—gaze remaining on you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think an unspoken ‘please’ lies at the tip of his tongue.

You shake your head in bewilderment, or in an attempt to shake off these thoughts—you don’t know.

“Don’t you have the night shift? And how’d you know I was here?”

He exhales heavily, jaw tensing.

“I had Kirishima cover for me. And…” He looks away for a brief moment, before turning back and fixing his gaze on yours. “I asked Mina, and she told me you’d be here.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but at that, you stand up on your feet and stare him down.

“You can stop now, Katsuki,” you hush, wary of your date eavesdropping on your conversation. “Quit wasting your time on me just to prove a point and go back to the agency. You’ve done enough.”

His eyebrows furrow in what you’ve grown to identify as defiance, but he doesn’t make a move to fight back or leave.

Instead, he says through gritted teeth: “I’m not just trying to prove a fucking point, Y/N.”

“Then what are—”

“Excuse me?”

You both whip your heads in the direction of the voice, only to see Daichi sporting a sheepish look on his face as his eyes dart between the two of you.

A pang of guilt courses through you at the sight.

He clears his throat, “Do you guys need a minute alone?”

“No, we’re just—”

“Yes.”

You turn back to look at Bakugou in angry confusion. To your astoundment, he leans in ever slightly, mouth nearing your ear. From how close you are, you see how his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps before speaking.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he says: “I can’t pretend that this isn’t bothering me.”

You jerk away at the sensation and take a step back, flustered. Before you can even gather your bearing, Daichi speaks up again, albeit quite hesitantly.

“I know I’m supposed to be the one leaving here, but if you want some privacy, this restaurant has a private patio right to your left.”

“I can’t believe you interrupted us like that,” you spew as you step out into the restaurant’s patio, which is fortunately empty except for the two of you.

Bakugou follows behind you, trying to catch up as you speak.

“I just needed to talk to you.”

At that, you spin around to face him, and he halts in his step in front of you.

Incredulous, you stare at him for a few seconds.

“Talk,” you finally command.

His eyes widen in surprise, and you can tell he didn’t expect this conversation to arrive at this point so soon.

A moment passes, but not a single word is uttered. Bakugou’s mouth opens and closes, opens and closes, as he attempts to get a word out but to no avail.

“What, now you don’t have anything to say?” you ask pointedly, irritation bubbling in you by the second.

You wait for a few more, excruciatingly quiet seconds before huffing in defeat. And disappointment—you finally admit to yourself.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you turn on your heel, “I have a poor date to return to.”

You start to head for the restaurant’s back door when Bakugou makes a grab for your hand, spinning you around to face him.

“Just—wait.”

His voice is pleading now, frustration and desperation evident in his tone. You’re itching to yank your hand back, which is getting alarmingly clammier by the second, but you fight the urge.

The pained look on Bakugou’s face is enough to freeze you solid.

This time around, you patiently wait for him to gather his words with his hand still wrapped around yours and your heart betraying you, beating at an abnormally fast pace.

What feels like an hour goes by before he finally manages to speak.

And what comes out of his mouth throws you right off.

“I strengthened our coordination with the other agencies around the district.”

“...What?”

You absentmindedly touch your face with your free hand.

You can’t be having a stroke right now.

Bakugou shifts on his feet, a nervous tic you’ve noticed developed over the years.

Okay, if you’re coherent enough to observe that, maybe you’re not having a stroke.

“I mean—” he scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “—Shitty Hair and I, we clarified jurisdictions around the area so that the two of us won’t be the go-to contact every time there’s a villain around.”

“I’m still not following, Katsuki.”

He ignores your comment, choosing to continue on his tangent instead.

“And I started seeing my therapist again. That damned hag went on telling me she was glad I’m getting help again like she was my mother.”

You blink at him as the gears start turning in your head.

Jurisdiction.

Less overtime.

More sidekicks.

Therapy.

Communication.

Suddenly, everything clicks.

“Maybe I am trying to prove a point,” Bakugou mumbles, more to himself than you.

“But it’s not just that,” he continues, looking back at you and not letting you get a word in.

“I’m here to tell you that I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect. Despite all the adjustments I’ve made, there are still gonna be days when I have no choice but to prioritize my duties as a hero over you.”

He looks down at your joint hands and squeezes, “Over us.”

“But I’m trying my best,” he declares with such certainty it knocks the wind off your lungs. “And I’ll keep doing so, if you’ll give me a chance to prove to you that I can do it.”

A million questions race through your mind. Why couldn’t he have done this for you the first time around? How is this time going to be any different? Are the changes going to be enough?

But he’s staring at you with such longing and hope and determination that the only thing you can think of is: How can you not?

Dizzy from the revelation and robbed of all words, all you can do is nod in affirmation as the tears you didn’t even notice were there start falling down your cheek.

A sigh of relief wracks Bakugou’s body as he scoops you in his arms, engulfing you in an embrace that has you sobbing even more on his shoulder.

The wet sensation spreading on your bare shoulders tells you he’s crying, too.

After what feels like an eternity of shedding tears and being wrapped in each other’s arms, Bakugou finally moves to unwrap his limbs around you, now holding you at an arm’s length.

Now not in spite of yourself, your hand shoots up to wipe off the tear streaks on his face, which he leans into.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” he whispers after a moment.

Your hand freezes in its track. “For what?”

“For not being able to immediately answer back when you asked me if you loving me changed anything.”

He looks down at his feet, uncertain. “I think—I just—” he stutters, “Fuck.”

You can’t help but chuckle in response, and he looks up at your face at the sound. He’s trying to playfully pout, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s feeling the farthest from playful.

Flashing him what you hope is a reassuring smile, you reach for the hand on your shoulder and squeeze it. “Go on, Katsuki.”

He sighs for the nth time at your coaxing, the slightest bit of relief flashing across his features.

“At that moment,” he finally continues, voice raspy, “I guess I was just scared shitless. I was paralyzed with doubt—in myself, in my capability to not mess up the second time around.”

He huffs, eyeing you, “Didn’t occur to me how stupid that was until I was walking home later that night.”

You’re about to reassure him when he snorts. “The fuck am I saying—I’m still scared.”

At that, you audibly laugh, running your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. He visibly softens at the gesture, lids fluttering shut for a moment. When he opens them, you then look him straight in the eye—the laughter long gone, now replaced with a palpable seriousness.

“I’m scared, too,” you say, voice quiet. “But we’ll try and make things work. Right, Katsuki?”

He nods vigorously, hand clenching yours and his crimson orbs filled with nothing but sincerity that all the apprehensions floating in your mind suddenly disappear.

“We will.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @bakugouswh0r3 @poemzcheng @lovra974 @jasmixs @xoneaboveallx @bontensh0e @kooromin @sirenmoi @buzzbuzz-hm @xzsanaa @baddecisionsworld @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @i-simp-to-much @goldenglow149 @fixed211 @zenxvii @roses-arerosies @tiredjuniper @curbstompedrice @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @bkgnotsuma @6423btw @kaeremin @ghastly-san @jasmixs @javochqaa @nnubee @just-ambxrr @idk-sam @dream-walker-cat @kitthepurplepotato @endlessfreaky @myrunawaysweets @bxbyyyjocelyn @smolbeannnn @seabass17 @serendipitous-fernweh @the-weeping-author

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou hurt/comfort #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #AND IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!#WOOOOOH #sorry i did not proofread this AT ALL

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ghcstao3 · 2 months

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more mi6 ghost and sas soap i beg!!! it itches something in my brain so hard!!!! i love ur writing sm ur sosososo talented <333

(original post since it’s been so long i am so so sorry. also apologies if it's paced weirdly i never had much of an idea where to take the original prompt. thank you though, for supporting my writing :) <3)

Soap would never be so naive as to expect a warm welcome from a team of elite agents, but the cold shoulder he's thus far received from one of said agents hardly seems necessary in its place.

He's barely even said a word.

The haughty bastard keeps staring at Soap, too, like Soap can't tell there are eyes on him behind sunglasses, and a frown behind a medical mask. He refused to shake Soap's hand, hadn't even been introduced by name like the others—Ghost, is all that was offered—and now he was scrutinizing Soap in some indecipherable way that Soap would put up to a cause of him being military, if it weren't for the fact that no one else of similar status was getting the same treatment.

It's bizarre. It couldn't even be the mohawk, for once, because he'd actually grown that out in anticipation of this high-honour, high-stakes mission.

Of course, the treatment doesn't ebb as days, weeks stretch on. But Soap learns to live with it, throws himself into the mission like he has something to prove, acquaints himself with everyone else.

Ghost becomes a background nuisance. He and his perfectly tailored suits hardly hold any weight to Soap by the time they're forced together and everything becomes a whole lot clearer.

Two months into the operation is when the team finally encounters the kind of action Soap is used to; bouts of gunfire, ducking for cover, barking out commands, incapacitating enemies with force before stealth. Begrudgingly, Soap and Ghost are left to cover one another's sixes.

Admittedly, Ghost is a damn good shot and has a rather keen eye for enemies. Soap would never utter this statement aloud, but they work terribly well as a team.

When everything goes silent for several minutes and they've received confirmation that the area's been cleared, that they're free to proceed with the mission, Ghost and Soap cautiously move from where they'd been taking cover.

Then Ghost is shot in the chest.

Another few gunshots ring out following, as Soap drags the agent back into their hiding place. Thankfully his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow, but it's obvious the wind had been knocked out of Ghost, evidenced by the sharp, wheezing gasps that try to pull air into his lungs.

Soap offers nothing more than a clipped sorry before ripping off the mask that's clearly hindering Ghost's ability to draw a proper breath.

His heart drops. Soap knows that face.

For good measure, he removes Ghost's sunglasses as well, and—fuck. Yes, Soap knows that face. Intimately.

"Simon? You bastard, what the hell?"

Simon winces. He's still breathless when he replies, "Johnny, don't—later. Fuck."

Later. Soap huffs. He only agrees because there are more pressing things, of course, but also because he's not happy to imagine the nasty bruise that was surely going to blossom across his partner's chest in the coming days.

They're not as useful the second time around, but they get what they need done. Soap operates purely on confusion and a mild frustration until later finally arrives, because he'd just like to know... anything, really.

Unfortunately, later doesn't even come when the mission is completed. Later doesn't even come until about a month following Soap's discovery. Suspense nearly kills him.

They're both home again. The operation had been of enough importance that it had, thankfully, warranted everyone at least a short break. Simon is only home because of the bruise that has yet to fade.

Things are tense, initially. Words are terse yet not unkind; they give each other space yet they go to sleep in the same bed each night. Their mutual stubbornness keeps them both from acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Until Soap grows too impatient, nearing the end of his own leave.

Over an otherwise silent dinner, Soap finally asks, "Will I ever get to know what was going on during that mission, then? Why you were being such a prick?"

Simon pauses, setting his fork down with a sigh. His shoulders slump as he sits back in his chair and drags a tired hand over his face, and Soap almost scoffs. Like the issue hasn't been bothering Soap as well.

"I didn't want you to worry about me over the course of everything. In case something happened," Simon confesses.

Soap snorts. "What, like you wouldn't be worried about me? Like you aren't worried about me, already knowing what I do for work?"

"No, Johnny, that's not what—" Simon sighs again. Soap catches the way he almost moves his hand to rub his chest in habit, before rethinking the choice in remembering the bruise. "Of course I worry about you. I just... didn't want to create any unnecessary risks. I trust you, more than anyone, but I've also been in this line of work for a while. I know my own limits."

Soap hangs his head. He... understands. He does. His own career requires the same kinds of limitations, but he's still upset that Simon felt he couldn't manage.

"I'm sorry," Simon eventually murmurs. He reaches a hand across the table and covers Soap's balled fist with a warm, callused hand. "I was wrong. You're a good soldier. Should've known that seein' you were chosen for the task force."

A blush burns at the tips of Soap's ears, and gradually he unclenches his hand. "I forgive you," he says. Soap doesn't think he could fault Simon forever, anyway. "But you'd better make it up to me."

"Of course." A smile tugs at Simon's lips, something almost mischievous. "Anything you like."

(This, of course, meant that Soap would be taking great pleasure in beating Simon's records at the gun range. And perhaps a few other things as well.)

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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fruitybashir · 1 month

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it's been 3 minutes since i read the last chapter and i just wanna ask how are our boys doing right now? will they eventually tell kris' parents that they were fake-dating but are together now? was the first officially-in-a-relationship sex good? how long has bojan been in love with kris? did he realize it during their whole friends-with-benefits thing or earlier?

okay okay okay lets get into it

1. how are they doing right now? well timeline wise, currently they are suffering. but right after the end of the fic? doing fantastic. im imagining since its a friday, kris takes another sick day and bojan skips his classes just bc fuck that, and they just went through a lot and finally have each other again and theyre both not willing to let the other out of their sight again for even just a second. kiki has probably noticed kris has not been doing so well lately, so he gladly covers kris' shift. they're gonna just lie in bed a little bit, answer texts from the other guys making sure the others know theyre doing fine, and then they take jans advice and fuck like rabbits.

on saturday they go to band practice together again and maybe just bc kris is a little shit hes gonna go "yeah the song was nice but the guitar could use some improvement" and maybe thats when they start working a third guitar into songs instead of just kris taking over bojans parts? who knows?

2. will they tell kris' parents that theyre fake-dating but together now? i think kris would want to keep that one a secret, mainly bc he knows theyre never gonna let him live it down and maks definitely wont, but he (very begrudgingly) does tell them. and they have a good laugh about it. for all eternity. bc i think miha and chantal are the kind of people who would find that shit hilaaaaaarious and bring it up all the time, they think its very very funny

and they also obv love bojan and are very glad to have him properly in their family now <3

3. was the first in-relarionship sex good? it was the fucking best. they didnt have to hold back anymore and enough "i love you"s were said to fill a book with it and then some. it was incredible.

4. how long has bojan been in love with kris? god i wish i knew. i just write the guy, i dont know what the fuck is going on inside his head. i think hes had a mild crush on kris for a while, over the last few years, not very deep or meaningful, mostly when kris picked up jan or smthn bojan would go "damn hes handsome" but that was the extent of it - also bc he was still struggling with his sexuality then.

i think over the holidate timeline .. hm. i imagine that crush skyrocketed when kris just slammed him against the wall that one night and then proceeded to give him the best head hes ever had lol. and i think he definitely acknowledged it as a crush then and it slowly developed into more. i think he maybe realised he was in love shortly after kris stayed with him when he was sick? the major factors there being that kris didnt just take care of him, but actually cared for him. he didnt just drop off some meds and left, he actually took the time to stay with bojan, took a sick day just to be with him, cooked for him, made sure he ate and drank enough, kept him company, everything. thats already an admission of love if you ask me. (both platonically or romantically) but that really did a number on bojan.

i even think bojan let himself admit that it was love pretty early on, but always had the safety layer of "we're just doing this for fun, so its okay if im in love with him bc the "only" consequence is having my own heart broken lol" but then when kris wrote him dopamin and bojan realised this could all be real, suddenly there were more potential consequences to deal with and well you read the last chapter lol

#well this got a little long. oops #i was thinking of doing that 'directors note' thing thats been going around btw? if anyone is interested in that?#now that the whole fic is finished like if anyone is still curious about specific scenes or has questions etc etc #inbox #anonymous #lore

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crusherthedoctor · 9 months

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Get a Load of Traits - PART 1: Sonic the Hedgehog

Way back during my Tumblr infancy, I made a series by the mouthful of What Makes For A Good Incarnation, in which I listed the main noteworthy traits that I consider integral for crafting, at the very worst, a still above-average portrayal of the character in question. By "series", I meant I did exactly three of them, then forgot all about it. In the words of Moneybags, I seemed to have temporarily forgotten.

In the years since however, I've went back and forth on going back and redoing them - as well as providing entries for those who didn't get one the first time around - because shall we say, a few recent portrayals have caused me to believe they're in need of some additional points or further elaboration. So now here I am to actually do it.

For the DX: Director's Cut, and for the sake of not dragging them out too much, I've decided to keep it all thematically consistent by sticking with 9 main points per character, in terms of what I personally consider the highest priorities for each of them. These will usually not be listed in any particular order of importance or relevance unless stated otherwise, and while there may be other major traits that might not get mentioned (in which case, feel free to bring them up yourself if you see fit), this keeps things simple and focuses on the points that have the most flexibility with how much of the character they encapsulate.

It should also be noted that these posts will be made with the game portrayals in mind, because the games mark the core of the franchise, and as such, they objectively contain the purest essence of the cast. Adaptations generally like to play by their own rules, some more gratuitously and inexcusably than others, and this will inevitably crop up with certain entries. All that being said however, I'll attempt to stay focused rather than devolve into another rant about this adaptation or that adaptation, only directly referring to them if I feel it's necessary for the point being made.

So without further ado, for today's installment, we're jumping right into the main Crush 40 enthusiast himself: Sonic.

Since Sonic was one of the characters covered in the past, much of this will be retreading old ground. If you know me well though, I'm sure you'll be able to tell which of it is new or expanded upon.

He's meant to be fun.

"Psst, the mandates don't exist."

We'll start with one so easy to get that you'd have to be purposefully contemptuous of the franchise and the character to suggest otherwise: Sonic is a fun character. He's all about having fun. He looks at virtually everything, no matter how precarious, as a thrill ride first and foremost. He is perpetually filled with a carefree love for all that life has to offer, has never been shy about it, and is known to enjoy fighting the baddies as well. Nothing keeps him down.

It's a large factor into why the franchise itself commonly boasts a sense of energy and wonder. If you don't acknowledge this aspect of Sonic's character... what are you even doing here? Why are you writing for him? What character are you seeing?

But he also knows when it's time to get serious.

Oh look, Super Sonic when it still had milk left in it.

Sonic's knack for making snarky quips of debatable quality can lead some into thinking he's incapable of taking anything seriously at all. This is how we get writers who seek to humble him for it... but unfortunately for them, they're not breaking any new ground: Sonic does get down to business when the situation calls for it, and even when he's joking around with whatever villain he's currently facing, he's always got his wits sharp, never going out of his way to be sloppy. And no, this isn't limited to the one-off villains and Godzilla-type Pokemon we know and begrudgingly tolerate: he more than acknowledges the very serious threat and crimes of the deceptively jovial Eggman's actions as well.

After all, do we not recall some of the near-death situations that Eggman has found himself in upon defeat, and how Sonic usually shows no concern over whether he survives or not? Do we not recall Sonic interrogating Zor over what happened to Tails? Do we not recall what he did to the Erazor Djinn when he refused to YouTube Apologise for abusing his former lover?

Sonic takes a lot of things quite seriously. More than he tends to let on. He just also likes to have fun at the same time.

He does not loathe technology.

"You're telling me this board was made with... SCIENCE...?"

Yes, Sonic is the nature foil to Eggman's scientific scheming. It's been a constant with the franchise since its inception, all the way to modern entries like Colours. But if Sonic hated technology itself, he wouldn't be best friends with a tinkerer. Nor would he own a plane.

The series as a whole has always been sensible about the matter compared to other green aesop-spewing media of the 90's. Rather than demonize technology outright, it understood the strengths it had, and how it could be used for nature's benefit rather than its detriment. Sonic CD visualized this wonderfully, as the Good Futures were fond of showing them side-by-side, in perfect harmony, with no cost to the land's health and beauty.

So with Sonic, he doesn't oppose technology. He opposes Eggman, whose methods involve technology. If you want Sonic to preach about the evils of tech as he drops a mahogany log in the woods and scrambles for a leaf to wipe his ass with, just go on DeviantART. Or watch SatAM.

He has selfish needs, but he's not a selfish person.

"Shit, I forgot the third paragraph of my principle monologue."

Sonic knows what he wants, and that something is his freedom. He's not going to be anchored down, he's not going to live a mundane life, and he's going to adventure and explore the world and beyond for as long as he can. This goes both ways: it's further reason why he confronts oppressive sorts like Eggman, but on the other hand, it can be hard to keep up with him at times, and since Amy has a clear vision on how she would want their future lives to be like as a couple, it's no wonder Sonic hasn't shown much serious interest in his friend in that particular way.

Don't get the wrong idea though; this doesn't mean Sonic is a selfish person full stop. In part thanks to several adaptations, a common misconception with the Blue Blur is mistaking him for a pure egotist through and through, who only cares about his adrenaline-fueled ecstasy and nothing else. Cause y'know, he's firm about his needs, and he has a cocky side, therefore he's full of himself, right?

Well no, not at all: his opposition to big bad villains would surely be enough on its own to confirm that he cares about everyone else's freedom too, so long as said people aren't doing anything malicious themselves. Yes, he fights villains because it's fun to him, but he also has a genuine hatred for injustice. He doesn't think like a typical superhero, where he fights evil and saves lives because he feels he has an obligation to do so, he does it simply because he wants to. How is that not selfless?

But it's even more than that: he's proven himself to be humble in spite of his cockiness, right down to dismissing any and all formal terms for himself when others use them. Half the time he tells the people he's saved to not sweat it, and the other half, he's already bolted before they can even thank him. Sonic largely doesn't care about the fame and attention that comes with being a repeated world saviour, and in more intimate situations, he's full of compassion there too. Hell, even in Black Knight, despite initially intending to slice Merlina in half in a furious response to her betrayal, he was later willing to show empathy to her defeated self, recognizing that she was an extremist, but not like the other villains he had faced.

Also, he doesn't have a history of treating his friends and accomplices like garbage. He might not see them all that often due to his globe trotting ways ("Long time no see!"), but he clearly values each of them. Even the ones he pokes light fun at on occasion, like Knuckles and Shadow.

He's impulsive, but intelligent.

Remember when Eggman had a conch? Starline didn't.

Like any character, Sonic does indeed have faults. Sonic is a guy who, when he sets out to do something, he'll do it, no questions asked. If Sonic thinks he knows the solution to sorting everything out, then that's all there is to it. This has worked in his favor more often than not, but it can also just as easily lead to mishaps, like the moment pictured above from Lost World. His cockiness has also been taken advantage of on several occasions, like in SA2 and Unleashed. Both of those were by Eggman, by the way. Just wanted to throw that out there.

However, Sonic is not an idiot. Just because he's a speedster doesn't mean he can't think straight, and his moments of recklessness are often born out of not knowing the full story rather than blindly charging in after already knowing better. If he makes a mistake, he'll acknowledge it and attempt to rectify it as soon as possible, and if he thinks someone else has good advice, then he'll be willing to hear them out, especially if it's coming from his life-long buddy, Tails.

To put it generously, Sonic's intelligence is prone to be heavily downplayed in certain adaptations, most notably in SatAM and Prime. This is usually done for the sake of forcing him to learn a lesson that a character like him doesn't really need to learn, or to prop up another character as the brains behind his operation. Or because Hurr Hurr Vroom Vroom Character Dumb. In reality though, Sonic is actually very intelligent: certainly not a super-genius like Tails or Eggman, but he's quick to pick up on details, and experience has taught him how to optimize his speed and acrobatics effectively and gracefully, while making it look completely effortless. He's also emotionally intelligent, being able to read a room with little issue, and when placed in a new situation, it doesn't take long for him to adapt.

So Sonic is a very bright person who just so happens to occasionally make impulsive decisions, for better or for worse. This does not translate to him being a Funny Penis Man. That's a vast simplification that tends to come from people who take the archetype that describes him at face value.

He only cares about how others perceive him when it's based on deception.

"Surrounded by evil knights and a girl I've never met before... better inhale the worst cuisine they've ever seen with my goatse mouth."

To paraphrase the hedgehog himself, he doesn't mind having to play the bad guy if it's necessary to do what he thinks is right. This doesn't apply in a meta sense - WE know he's doing the right thing - but what it means is that in-universe, he understands that some people might think he's the villain due to their perspective on the situation. And he accepts that, because he doesn't care about how his true blue self is perceived by strangers one way or the other. He doesn't expect or demand the rest of the world to live by his own personal beliefs unlike some iterations, but since they're his own, he holds no shame in sticking with them personally. He can only be who he truly is, and if some people have a problem with that, then he'll just have to take it smoothly with a Winston break.

But, as proven with Shadow inadvertently framing him in SA2, he does care when it involves Shit That Isn't True. Because if you're going to judge him, it better be for stuff he's actually done, and for who he actually is. Sonic doesn't care about attention, but he does evidently care about his identity.

The real super power of teamwork.

"Because... we're Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric!"

Sonic Heroes is a game that frequently gets referenced in side-material, which is an impressive feat considering it condemned itself by dressing Metal Sonic like a wanker. Yet for some curious reason, despite all the Heroes referencing, writers have trouble remembering the entire theme of the game, because their idea of Sonic needing to learn the benefits of teamwork and friendship is... lol...? Lmao...? Dare I even say... rofl...?

Sonic is the last person on the goddamn planet who needs to learn this, and you'd know that even if you weren't familiar with Heroes. Other games have shown time and time again that he appreciates the contributions of his allies, and gives them the appropriate kudos with no shred of reluctance, all without placing himself above them in the process. And while he may not be quick to ask for help, he's usually willing to accept it when it's offered to him. Like in '06, in which he casually allowed Trunks the Hedgehog to help out despite his attempting to kill him when they last met.

Sonic knows the super power of teamwork just fine. It's in his business card. Him of all people needing to learn this aesop is a non-development, a cheap way to make it seem like the writers are doing something ~deep~ with him. Giving back something he should have had to begin with is not character development.

His thing about emotions.

"A tall girl. My weakness."

Despite his outward demeanour, Sonic has a lot of introversion deep down, what with showing himself a contemplative side on a regular basis, and most of his dialogue being fairly straight and to-the-point. As it happens, this extends to how he manages his emotions, aside from his alleged temper. Sonic is obviously not stoic, but you're not likely to see him break down in hysterics, or publicly show tears at all unless it's in private.

Some writers and artists - or should I say, certain writers and artists - consider this an abominable sin that must be rectified. They'll get it into their heads that Sonic shows no emotion at all, but never fear boys and girls, they'll fix that pronto. They'll give him the emotions that SEGA couldn't. And what do you know, the end results end up looking absolutely ridiculous, and simply not in-line with who and what our hero is. Fact of the matter is, not everyone wears their emotions on their sleeve, and not breaking out the waterworks is not the same as being an unfeeling machine altogether. As it applies to real life, it applies as well to fictional characters. Because they're not all going to be the same.

His introversion doesn't just relate to himself though. It also seeps into his visible discomfort in dealing with the complex emotions of others, especially those who can't shake themselves off as easily as he can. Notice how, during moments where someone else is upset by something he can't easily fix - such as Tails lamenting Emerl's demise, or Shahra grieving over Majin Ganondorf despite him being a terminal shithead - he often finds himself at a loss, needing a moment or two to think of what he should say or do to console them.

It's possible that, with his canonical tendency to not be all that open about whatever might be troubling him, under the belief of not wanting to make his problem their problem by extension, he might not consider himself the most well-equipped for someone else's anguish. Or maybe that's just a Game Theory. Either way, whatever awkwardness there may be on his part, he always does his best regardless, as he would for any other situation.

...unless it involves one-sided sadness. Then he's not as sympathetic.

He's an ideal.

"Fuck sake, another argument over voice actors."

Sonic is a static character. Deliberately so. He is also not meant to be a relatable character, at least not in the sense of what Twitter members who have never played a Sonic game in their life consider relatable, which is basically making the character exactly the same as them, beat for beat, including the mismatched haircut, announcing their pronouns every three sentences, and the compulsive thirst to speak to the manager.

Needless to say, this doesn't work with the fastest thing alive. Everything about Sonic - his refusal to give up, his refusal to let distress overwhelm him, his freedom to go where the wind takes him - all of it, and more, serves to make him an inspiration. And guess what? Characters are allowed to be that. Inspirational characters are just as important as relatable ones, because by seeing what they can accomplish, we can strive to become our best selves. Why would you want to take that away?

Every character, the good ones anyway, have a defined purpose. Sonic has his. Other characters in the series might be considered relatable, but that's not where Sonic himself lies. It's better to leave that occupation for others, such as those who were inspired in-universe by Sonic himself, like Tails and Amy.

------

If you understand all of these points, and if you can take to them, then I believe you should have what it takes to write a good, or even great, portrayal of Say Yes to the Dress the Hedgehog. No portrayal is going to be one-and-one with that of another, there'll always be subtle distinctions depending on the writer, but you'll be fine as long as he's not a holier-than-thou dipshit who speaks more words than The Great Gatsby.

#Get a Load of Traits #Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog

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constantineshots · 2 months

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as someone wit cancer (posting this anonymously because some ppl on the internet hear this and go fucking crazy) I’ve always found John Constantine is actually a really interesting rep In theory. I do think Delano like most things fumbles the bag when it comes to that topic but… it’s Delano what do you expect. I really like timelines where John gets treatment before it’s terminal (though usually that very idea seems out of character) or something it’s such a comfort hc. sorry for rambling. I was wondering how YOU interpreted johns cancer storylines as the John Constantine guy.

hey, you’re safe here, do what’s best for you! and I wish you the best. and never apologize for rambling! i love rambling. please keep rambling.

i’ll put this under a read more because i realized how long this is, but i hope it helps answer your question!

but as the john constantine girlie, it’s always been such an incredibly interesting plotline to me. he does take drastic measures to cure himself in the main vertigo timeline, and his interactions with other cancer patients and then realizing that this thing is terminal… it was intriguing. because it’s john. how he handles things is so much different than how others will. you’re never going to get the logical answer- “maybe he’ll get treatment.” “maybe he’ll go find healing magics that could help him.” “maybe he’ll go spend more time with his loved ones.” this is how most people would think to act. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have cancer, but if it were me, i feel like i’d be angry to be living on a timer, so i’d probably check a few things off my bucket list out of spite. not john constantine, though. instead he threatens a war in hell over his soul so everyone has to cure him.

john smokes cigarettes. we all know this to be a fact. however, he ends up getting terminal lung cancer as a result. it shows a very possible risk that most people aren’t willing to acknowledge until it’s too late.

i haven’t spoken to my mother in forever because our relationship was never good ( can’t you see why i like john constantine now? ), but in a way, it reminded me of her. she was a heavy smoker, and i, as a child who sometimes went over to her house begrudgingly, would be caught up in second hand smoke. as a result, these sorts of things were big worries of mine, and yet every time i told her she can’t do things like smoke inside the house and such, she’d just do it anyway. which put everyone at risk.

while, of course, cancer isn’t always caused by smoking, it can be, and she never took it seriously, not even when she was coughing badly and it was clearly dangerous for her health anyway. I don’t think she ever will.

within john’s character, though, we know he clearly didn’t care much. of course, he didn’t want to die because he knew he was going straight to hell at the time. so he concocted his little plan and ended up curing himself of cancer and not dying as a result… and then continuing with the bad habit. he’s a comic book character, so i guess it’s different, but i think it kind of sent the wrong message.

after a tale of john being distressed about having cancer and having to say goodbye to the people he cared about, or john meeting others who had cancer and being affected by the loss of someone who had died as a result of it, i think some expected him to put down the cigarettes. but alas, john has never been the kind of person to make good decisions.

so when i see him doing the smart thing in some storylines or aus that people write and so forth, i’m always stunned. like good on him, of course, handling his shit before it gets worse, but john has always liked to be a pain in the ass and wait until the worst possible moment. like the exact day he’s supposed to die for example. though i do enjoy these more, because it sends the right message…. john isn’t the kind of character you look to to give you the right message in most aspects. his political beliefs are good, but everything else is a dumpster fire.

but in my opinion, john constantine is a character- one of a rare few- who has cancer. there’s a described time of his struggles with it, some depression from it, the loss of someone he’d met who had it, and that was a journey. but then, in true john constantine fashion, the cornered rat idea he has, he cures himself of it- or, well, more forces some other beings to cure him of it, but hey.

that’s all i got, but feel free to explain further on anything you want to!

#asks #john constantine #hellblazer #tw: cancer

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eustasskiddsprosthetic · 22 days

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Blind prince Sabo. For fuck's sake, dude, this AU idea has been plaguing my mind for a potential fic. I've been putting the act of actually writing it off for two months (?) because I have actual fics to to write but this crops up and punches me in the gut with potential angst moments.

Therefore, enjoy a shitty ramble with lore details 💕

Sabo was blind. He never denied it despite the weird looks he got or the change in the atmosphere whenever he admitted it.

He was fully blind in his left eye, and almost lost all vision in his right. It resulted in large splotches of black with the occasional faint trace of foggy colour. His vision had always been questionable since birth but the fire accident he experienced when he was thirteen sealed his fate.

That said, he refused to be seen as weak, Sabo insisted on training harder with his knights Ace and Luffy, his 'brothers' as he made his court begrudgingly accept. They spar almost every day and his progress was interesting. Sabo was strong but he took a long time to land proper hits on Ace and Luffy and would lose almost every time. Unlike when they were kids, those two never laughed at him. They helped him stand up and try again.

Over time, Sabo regained his bearings and learnt how to fight again, first somewhat competently, and then good enough for people to say 'wow not bad' and then proficient. In his twenties, he even held his own against his head of military and won.

The key to this success, as Sabo realised, was to be extremely aware of his surroundings and the people in it. He relied heavily on both his gut instinct and hearing to quickly establish who was there, how far away were they and what their intentions were. He learned to be analytical. Just speak one sentence and he can tell whether he should trust this person, and from there decide whether to like them or avoid them as much as possible.

It worked for the most part, even if his judgements were sometimes misplaced because of his raging cynicism. This 'sense' of his gave him his reputation of being described as a 'not very nice person'.

Yes, he does the whole acting polite stuff like bowing and talking diplomatically but he does so with a stiff, calculated unwillingness that feels more offensive than if he just did not bother.

The one thing he refuses to do with a burning passion is letting people give him pecks on the cheek and a kiss on the hand, either out of courtesy or custom. He vomits at the idea of kissing someone else. He did not like anyone that much.

It genuinely disgusts him to have a stranger's mouth—spit—anywhere near him. He does not mind sharing utensils and drinks with Ace and Luffy but that's because it's Ace and Luffy—his fucking brothers! He considers everyone else disgusting. Out of politeness, he obliges but he tries to avoid it whenever he can.

And yet, at some point, he only lets one person kiss his hand. He still grossed out but it does not personally offend him.

They would always ask, "May I?" and would always be quick about it, their lips never touching his glove. Rather than feeling icky, Sabo feels flattered like he's being courted. The warmth and delicacy of the whole gesture was sweet, even Sabo could acknowledge that. They would always end it with a polite, "Thank you" and Sabo would smile sincerely in return.

#revolutionary sabo #sabo #to be fair this would be sabolaw in my head but i wanted to get these details out of the way first #i really want to write this and i would reblog it with more story details #but for now!!#this is the sort of person i'm gunning for #he truly intrigues me #Jacqueline's blind prince AU

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aerequets · 1 year

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sugar, spice, and everything nice

ao3

rating: G

genre: fluff, humor

synopsis: After the fifth time Loid turned around to see Yuri feigning immense interest in their coffee table, he sighed, long-suffering and in disbelief of what he was about to say. “...do you want to come see what I’m making?”

a/n: this is the first fic i'm posting that was not written in one sitting past midnight :D milestones yall! also i think the first fic which isn't twiyor centric? anyways i know some people love yuri and many, many people loathe him. i'm more on the neutral end, where i acknowledge he's a funky guy and if i ignore the weirder aspects of his love for yor and pretend its just intense attachment issues due to trauma etc then i think he's swell. i didn't really know how to write him since in the series itself he's used more as a plot device than anything else, and loid's view on him reflects that, so hopefully this doesn't feel too weird. also ending fics is hard im sorry 🙏🙏

anyways i've talked enough, one last thank you for everyone who leaves reviews and kudos, i don't get to respond to them but i do read them all and appreciate the love <3 enjoy

...

“Yooor!” Yuri sang as he shoved the door to the Forger residence open, bouquet of flowers in hand. “I got off work early so I decided to come… and…”

His voice petered out as he took a better look inside the apartment he’d just forcibly entered. The chihuahua girl and her polar bear of a dog were in the living room with some noxious cartoon blaring on the TV set. That damned Forger was in the kitchen, messing around with something that definitely didn’t smell good whatsoever. Most importantly, there was a glaring, offensive lack of Yor!

“Where is Yor?” He asked, accusingly pointing a finger at Loid who finally looked up from his work. “What did you do to her?!”

Loid’s eye twitched. What made Yuri assume he could just barge in whenever he wanted and find Yor waiting for him? “She got called out for a late night shift.”

“Don’t lie to me, you—” Yuri’s other senses finally caught up and he begrudgingly confirmed that whatever Forger was messing around with did smell good. Really good. And vaguely familiar? He sniffed the air deeply, trying to figure it out.

Anya looked up from her cartoons. “Are you acting like a dog, Unkie?”

“I’m not the dog here!”

Loid debated with himself as Yuri stood in the doorway, neither coming in nor leaving. The polite, Loid-Forgerly thing to do would be to invite him inside to wait for Yor to come back. That was what upstanding gentlemen, good members of society—far from the blacklists of the SSS— acted like; gracious, affable.

The thing was, he didn’t really want to.

He watched Yuri argue with Anya about dogs (“there’s an actual dog, and then you, chihuahua girl. I am a normal person!”) and groaned. Come on. What would Yor think if she heard Yuri came by and I turned him away? It would be no good if he displeased her. He had to do this for the sake of Strix.

“Would you like to come in?” He called from his spot in the kitchen, none too welcomingly.

(Doing it for the mission didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.)

Yuri was torn from his impassioned argument with a literal first grader. “Tch… I guess since I’ve brought flowers, I might as well put them in water,” he muttered. “No other reason!”

He came in. He split the gargantuan bouquet up into six different vases. He made some comments about how Anya’s cartoon was impossible according to the laws of physics. Then he just stood in the living room, trying—and failing—to act like he wasn’t peering at Loid’s activity in the kitchen, still loudly sniffing the air. Really, even if Loid didn’t have senses sharpened to a knife’s point, it would be difficult not to notice Yuri. To make matters worse, every time he turned back, Yuri would suddenly whip around and act like he definitely wasn’t loitering, the way they did in bad sitcoms. Is this the way the SSS carry out their own covert operations? he wondered.

Aside from Anya’s cartoon playing in the background, it was painfully quiet, the only sounds coming from Loid's activity in the kitchen. It seemed like Yuri wasn’t going to strike up a conversation, and Loid wasn’t inclined to, either. But then why is he just standing there?

After the fifth time Loid turned around to see Yuri feigning immense interest in their coffee table, he sighed, long-suffering and in disbelief of what he was about to say. “...do you want to come see what I’m making?”

Yuri squinted at him like he was affronted at the mere notion. “Hmph. I guess I could.” The speed with which he made his way to the kitchen offset his haughty tone. He glanced down into the various bowls Loid had set out on the counter, one filled with sliced apples, another with some uncracked eggs, and a third with flour, sugar, and spices laid out, but not yet combined.

“Apples,” Yuri said, almost dumbstruck. He forgot to keep the scowl on his face as he picked up an aniseed from the third bowl and brought it to his nose. It seemed like he finally found what he’d been sniffing around for. “You’re making apple cake?”

“Close,” Loid said, surprised by Yuri’s flip in demeanor. “Apple streusel pie. Do you make apple cake?”

“Not me. But… this smell is…” Yuri mumbled, smelling the anise. “I don’t really remember, but this thingy smells familiar to me.”

“It’s star anise. And people often say that smells are stronger links to memories than visuals,” Loid offered. “Maybe it’s something you used to have.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. “Oh. Now that I think about it…” He held the aniseed up to the light. “I think Mom put this in apple cake once, on Sis’ birthday.” He cut a glance to Loid. “Apples are her favorite.”

Loid knew—that was why he was making apple streusel. But he was more astonished at the fact that Yuri brought up an old memory to him at all. Right now, with Yuri looking at the aniseed with an almost wondrous expression, it struck Loid how much of a kid Yuri was.

Yuri was only twenty years old. When Twilight was twenty years old, he was still new to WISE, training hard and getting his ego beaten down even harder. He’d thought he knew everything there was to know back then.

Could he blame Yuri for thinking the same way?

For the first time, Loid found himself regarding Yuri with something that wasn’t annoyance. Sure, the guy was more attached to Yor than superglue, but again, could he be blamed? He was a kid clinging onto the only thing left from his childhood.

Yuri turned to him with a grim expression. “I think I should take over this baking project of yours.”

Any feelings of tenderness were dashed in an instant. “What?”

“Apples are Yor’s favorite, and I know her best, so I should make the apple cake.”

“Apple streusel. ”

“Whatever!”

Loid resisted the urge to physically kick Yuri out of the kitchen. Don’t tussle with an SSS officer. Don’t tussle with your wife’s brother. Don’t tussle with a kid! “Are you forgetting the last time you came and destroyed the kitchen?”

“You may have won then, but I won’t back down from this fight,” Yuri hissed. Loid gaped, a headache building in his temples. Since when was this a fight?

“Is this round two?!” Anya’s voice suddenly piped. The two of them turned to see her standing by the counter, looking strangely excited. She’d abandoned her cartoons to stretch up onto her tiptoes to see the counter. “Papa versus Unkie?”

“We aren’t doing that,” Loid said at the same time Yuri declared “I’m going to wipe the floor with him.” They turned and glared at each other.

Bond trotted up to Anya and nudged her with his nose. She paused, turned to the dog, and then brightened up.

“I just thought of a way better idea,” she announced. “Let’s all bake for Mama together!”

“What?!” The evening was spiraling way out of control. All Loid had wanted was to make some apple streusel for Yor since she was working late so often and deserved a treat (because if she got too tired or fed up, it would reflect badly on their fake marriage). Now he was meant to bake with her hyperactive brother and his equally hyperactive daughter—two people with an entire lack of abandon in the kitchen?

“No way,” Yuri sniffed, and for once Loid wholeheartedly agreed—until he continued, “I'm gonna make such a good apple streusel Yor will forget why she ever married you."

“This is not your kitchen,” Loid said, patience evaporated. “You aren't making anything, not here at least.”

“What, are you scared?”

“I'm not going to argue with you about this—”

Anya sighed loudly and tutted as if she were an exasperated adult. “Mama will be happiest,” she said slowly, “if we all make it.”

That got both men to pause. Well, thought Loid, I am making this to cheer her up in the first place. Anya's not wrong…

Agh. If it makes Sis happier, then shouldn't I…?

Anya smiled in satisfaction. In the snippet of the future she read from Bond's mind, it seemed like everyone was getting along and Mama was smiling really wide, so Papa and Unkie had to stop fighting in order for that to happen. As fun as round two sounded, that future seemed better.

(Also, in that version of the future, everyone was too distracted and happy to notice Anya sneaking extra dessert. Double win!)

“Yay! What do I do?” Anya asked, eagerly hopping up on a stool. “Can I put the crumblies on top?”

“It's not time for that yet,” Loid replied. “Though you can help me make the topping if you want. Er, Yuri, if you want to get started on the custard, you can crack the eggs…”

“Right, eggs,” Yuri repeated before picking one up and smashing it into the bowl, shell splintering. Loid and Anya jumped.

“Not like that!” Loid cried.

“Even I learned how to crack eggs,” Anya unhelpfully supplied, leading Yuri's face to glow red. Loid felt a tinge of pity (he knew how Anya's words could burn firsthand) and cautiously asked, “Did you ever learn to crack an egg, Yuri?”

“It was fine to do it this way before Yor ate your food,” he mumbled in response. Loid was silent for a few seconds before turning to the fridge and pulling a fresh egg out. “This is how you do it.” He demonstrated over the bowl, noting how Yuri carefully tracked the movement. “Tap gently enough to make a crack in the shell. Then pull it apart like you're opening it. Yor learned this way too.” He threw the empty shells away before adding, “Not everything has to stay the way it was before, you know.”

A muscle in Yuri's jaw jumped, but he said nothing and instead set to cracking the other eggs, a little clumsy but decidedly better. Loid then got Anya to whisk the powders together ( “Gently,” he insisted, since it seemed Anya had some sort of floury vendetta) and he cut the butter in for the streusel topping. Yuri began haltingly asking for instructions on what to do next, which Loid was glad to provide.

Time passed like this, with Loid and Yuri slowly warming up to each other via baking. During the process of whisking, mixing, pouring and arranging apples, it seemed like Yuri forgot to be thorny with Loid, and Loid forgot to be cross at Yuri's presence. Anya, too, quickly forgot why she was helping at all and went back to watching cartoons, in wait for when the streusel would be ready for her to eat.

It was when a warm, cinnamon-sugary smell was filling the apartment and Loid and Yuri were cleaning up that the front door opened. Yor trudged in, tired and sore from the night's assignment and ready to collapse into bed. She froze upon seeing six fresh vases and a very familiar pair of shoes in the doorway.

The TV was playing one of Anya's cartoons, but the living room was void. Yor, weary and blood still pumping, immediately assumed the worst. Oh, no. What if Yuri came and got in a fight with Loid? What if he found out we're fake married?! Where's Anya? And—

She, too, had to pause and finally breathe in the mouthwatering scent hanging in the air. There was just something about it…

Abandoning all caution, Yor slipped inside, keeping her steps light just in case something really was wrong. But it smelled too good for there to be any real damage—was that sound logic, or was she just hungry? In any case, she made sure not to draw attention to herself as she poked her head into the kitchen.

“And for pots that have a lot of gunk in them, you can just boil a bit of water with soap and vinegar and wait till it foams. Makes it easier to clean,” Loid was telling Yuri. “Yor taught me that, actually—oi, Anya, don't open the oven yet.”

“Makes sense.” Yuri was scribbling something down in a notepad, punching down on the dots and lines. “I'll triple-star that one since it's a tip from Sis.”

“Is it ready yet?” Anya was alternating between excitedly jumping in front of the oven and plastering her face up against the glass. Bond, too, was sat next to Anya with his tail furiously thumping on the ground. “It smells sooo good!”

“It'll be just a minute. Come on, back up from there, both of you.”

Yor was so shocked at what she was seeing that she dropped her purse, alerting everyone of her presence. They all gawked at each other; Anya and Bond were the first to react, scrambling up from their spots.

“Mama! You're back!” Anya exclaimed, hugging her mother's knees. Bond barked and Yor pet his head absentmindedly, still trying to process what she was seeing.

“I am,” she said faintly. “Yuri…? When did you get here?”

“Sis!” Yuri said, also snapping out of his stupor. He sheepishly tucked his notepad away. “Um, a bit ago, I guess. I came to visit you, but you were out, and…"

“Did you guys bake together?” Yor asked, daring to hope. Yuri and Loid exchanged a glance before Loid smiled.

“He's a quick learner.”

"Loi-Loi is an okay teacher, I guess,” Yuri reluctantly added. “We made apple streusel. Do you remember Mom's apple cake?”

Yor inhaled, closing her eyes. The memory was fuzzy, but distinctly sweet, as if the taste of the cake remained. “Yeah. This smells really similar.”

“Yuri had the idea of adding cloves and cardamom,” Loid said. “It worked out quite nicely.”

“Yeah, it was my idea,” Yuri said proudly. Loid rolled his eyes but said nothing more on the subject. No wonder it smelled so familiar, Yor thought. She could hardly believe Yuri even remember the apple cake. Or that he'd shared enough about it with Loid that they were able to replicate some of it in the streusel.

Something warm and sweet was filling up in Yor's chest. Was it the sugar in the air? She breathed it in, cheeks apple red and sore from how widely she was beaming, previous tiredness all but forgotten. She hadn't realized how much she'd subconsciously wanted Yuri to warm up to her family before. Her family. His family now, too. It didn't have to be just the two of them.

“Ah—are you crying?!” Yor's eyes had gotten a little shiny, which naturally led to Yuri bursting out bawling. “I missed you toooo!”

The oven dinged and Loid pulled out the streusel as Yor joined them in the kitchen. As the adults got to chatting, Anya snuck around and victoriously stabbed a forkful of the piping dessert, blowing on it vigorously before chomping down. She grinned around her fork.

Victory was sweet.

#spy x family #spy x family fic #my fic #my writing #sxf #sxf fic #yuri briar #loid forger #twilight #agent twilight #sxf yuri #sxf loid #anya forger #sxf anya #yor forger #sxf yor #bond forger #sxf bond

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letters-from-dekarios · 2 months

Note

(tav post just in case: https://www.tumblr.com/tadpoles-r-us/744342741955297280/lynneira-sylverwind )

[the letter is written on either very old or very intentionally tea-stained paper. The words are written in a shaky hands, as though the author was struggling to hold her writing utensil. There are a few circular wrinkled spots on the page. Some sort of water stain? Enclosed with the letter is a map of Faerûn with a concerning amount of locations crossed out in red ink. Each x on the map appears to be more scratched in than the last, showing frustration. Along with the map is a small business card with a hand drawn graphic on some plants and potion bottles and the title “Elenor’s Eclectic Goods” printed in a swirly font, the address of the business is printed on the back]

Dear Gale,

I do hope this letter finds you well, as I would hate for such a first introduction to be on a bad day for you. My name is Lynneira Sylverwind. I am an Archfey warlock based just outside of Baldur’s Gate. I am currently making a living running my mother’s apothecary in the city. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Elenor’s Eclectic Goods? I can’t count how many times I told her the name was silly and that she should change it, but she never listened to me.

But my mother’s poor choices in business names are unfortunately not the point of this letter, as much as I would like them to be, as my actual ask is far more… shall we say time consuming to deal with? You see, a friend of mine from the city went missing quite some time ago, and I am frankly at my wits end when it comes to finding him. I have searched all over Faerûn, as you will see in the map I’ve enclosed, but not a trace of him has come up.

From what I understand based on the source I was given (an underling of my patron informed me of your existence), I understand that you are human, so it seems a bit silly to mention my friend by name, given that we were both born long before your time, both being elves, but on the off chance you have at least heard of him, perhaps it will help. His name is Astarion Ancunin. He was employed as a Magistrate in Baldur’s Gate. He has been missing for 200 years exactly at my time of writing this.

I am writing you this letter in hopes that you’ll be able to help me find him. While my patron has eyes all over Faerûn, I have hit a point where I must begrudgingly acknowledge that I cannot find Astarion on my own. I dare not go too far into detail about it, but I can assure you I have exhausted all other avenues of search.

I will admit, I have no idea the differences between wizard magic and warlock magic, or if there even is one outside of the obvious inability for wizards to cast eldritch blast and other such warlock specific spells (though truthfully I don’t see what’s stopping anyone from learning? But that’s not the point. Moving on.) but I’m hoping that you’ll know of some sort of tracking spell that will aid me in my search, or that perhaps you could put me in contact with another wizard who does.

Along with the map, I have enclosed a business card with the apothecary’s address. All mail is to be sent there as I am in every day of the week nowadays and it’s just easier than having a home and work mailing address. I do sincerely apologize if this letter has come off as a bit rambly. I’m certain you can imagine the kind of stress I am under, although I tried my best not to get too far into it. No stranger needs my worried babbling, that’s for certain.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Lynneira Sylverwind

P.S. On the off chance that you happen to be in contact with any clerics/paladins/otherwise worshippers of Lathander, please do NOT mention that you are in contact with me, for everyones safety and sanity.

Dearest Lynneira,

It is not every day that one receives a letter from a known oathbreaker asking for help. We’re frivolously warned of interacting with those who disregard their gods, but who am I to toss aside an ask for aid?

While I had never met her personally, your mother was known across Waterdeep. Anyone and everyone who needed healing from their (rather disastrous, I might add) wounds would tend to lean towards her shop over other apothecaries in the area. In this sense, I will offer you the knowledge I possess through Mystra herself in exchange for an insignificant price. I shall touch on that soon.

The magistrate you mention does not hold any significance in my mind, as far as my memory is concerned, but I can let you in on information I have heard. Through word of mouth, there has been an awful plague of young men and women disappearing in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. This phenomenon goes back some years, roughly around the time you seem to have lost your friend.

It is only through Mystra that I possess the spell you seek, that I can wield it as I do. I hope that this finds you before you have lost your hope. The spell itself is known as a ‘Discern Location’ spell. I have only used it once.

However, this spell is rather a feat for anyone. Even for myself, a wizard in the name of Mystra since I was a child, this spell is straining. It goes beyond the Weave, crossing through any spells or castings that might prevent you from seeking a person. No matter where the person lay, it can find them.

Given that you are a warlock, it is not likely you’d be able to perform this spell on your own intuition. I would like to offer my services in your time of need in this sense- I can never pass on the opportunity to practice a difficult spell. If you’d be so kind as to send an item that once belonged to Astarion or join me in my tower in Waterdeep, I should- and I say should loosely, as I said this is a rather difficult spell- be able to assist you. If not, perhaps my Goddess could lend her hand in your troubles.

We have all lost a dear friend in this world, Lynneira, believe me. It never gets easier the more that you lose, especially in this day and age. You’d think someone would have discovered a spell that would allow loved ones to live on together, but perhaps that would be a bit… strong, for the Gods’ liking.

In exchange for my help, I ask for yours as well. I have stumbled into a predicament of my own, that I will not get far into details about. If you possess any knowledge that could help one, say, perhaps remove a curse of higher, Godly sorts, I would much appreciate it.

I shan’t make this letter longer than it needs to. I wish you luck in trying to find your friend, and if you wish to take me up on my offer, please let me know. I am available any time.

Attached is a hand-copied page from a spellbook detailing the aforementioned spell in more depth. There are smaller notes marked in the margins highlighting certain points about difficulty and what is needed to use the spell.

Good luck.

From the desk of,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

P.S; I will do well to heed your warning. I’d much rather not get into too much trouble with those sorts of things.

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paintingformike · 2 years

Text

what milevens refuse to acknowledge and will have to begrudgingly accept is that the events leading to the monologue were ultimately propelled by will’s lie about the painting, and a major lie at that. like they can brag about their love confession all they want but it’s an undeniable fact that the monologue wouldn’t have existed without the van scene happening beforehand. it was basically a domino effect of events (foreshadowed by argyle quite literally saying “mike wheeler, your dominoes are gonna fall” before the whole veiled love confession in the van).

mike was being honest? sure, but it would only be because he felt true love from will’s feelings for him (disguised as el’s) and thought that because of this, he could finally give el the kind of love she wanted from him. he didn’t just magically gain the ability to say “i love you”, he needed a key motivator in order to do that, which was ultimately based on a lie. to make this apparent, they wrote in the entire “you’re the heart” dialogue from will right before mike delivered his monologue, as a callback to the van scene and as a way of reminding the audience of will’s speech to mike. but what really makes me believe that the van scene and mike’s monologue are supposed to be associated with each other is the fact that being different and you’re the heart are basically two halves of a whole and form one song when combined.

i realized that all these discussions about whether mike intended to be genuine or was consciously lying in the monologue, don’t actually matter in the greater scheme of things because at the end of the day, mike’s words were majorly influenced by will giving mike this image of el that didn’t actually exist. mike’s last string of hope in saving his relationship with el (which is basically just him being afraid she’d not want to be a part of his life anymore if they truly broke up) happened because will lied to him about her feelings, and although will had good intentions, he had a false perception of mike and el’s relationship and how el truly saw mike. because of this, mike thought that his words were what el truly needed from him.

all of this will come back to bite the entire love triangle in the ass when mike inevitably learns the full truth behind the painting in season 5. because really, there’s no reason for them to make this entire storyline so elaborate if they don’t have something major planned for it. the painting either would've genuinely come from el so that the basis of mileven’s “love” would’ve been more authentic, or they wouldn't have made will lie about the painting and had mike gently reject him so that they could focus on letting him move on in season 5. hell, they would’ve closed the curtains in this plot already and gotten it over with sooner if they didn’t care enough about it. so why are they hellbent on dragging it out into the last season? because something will trigger the lies behind the painting to come out overflowing, and it would have a such a huge impact and actually alter the relationships in the love triangle.

maybe some people still don’t see the byler endgame vision, but you can’t deny that mileven’s relationship was doomed the moment mike was motivated by a lie to confess to el. because it automatically makes his words inauthentic and not strong enough. also, you don’t solve a couple’s relationship problems by heavily involving the second love interest and making him do so much work for them, unless you’re planning on setting up a huge payoff for him as a reward for his selflessness. everytime the writers had the other love interest attribute their acts of love to the partner of the person they have feelings for (like with jonathan telling nancy that steve took her home in order to make her feel secure in their relationship instead of telling the truth), said selfless love interest ended up with the person they wanted. because writing it this way makes the second love interest look more deserving of the love from the person in the middle of it all. because they’re the one shown to exert so much effort instead of their actual partner. this is not me trying to discredit el (because i know very well that she already did so much more than mike when it comes to the dedication put into keeping their relationship going), but more so me trying to point out the writing choices in the show and why they decided to put el in a situation where she wouldn’t be able to do all of what will has done for mike in season 4. why they decided that it would be will who managed to reassure mike and give him the exact kind of love he needed, why it was will who understood mike’s troubles and inner turmoils. it was a matter of showing who’s the more compatible partner for mike. let’s be honest, el wouldn’t have been able to understand what mike needed the way will did, because they were always struggling to actually connect with what the other person was trying to express and be on the same page. but will always connected well with mike. will knew that mike was feeling worthless and inferior, so he emphasized to mike how he was a leader/protector that inspired and guided the party. and mike loved hearing all of that, he was completely enamored and we even see him gulping and breathing hard. mike’s relationship with el was making him feel insecure and unneeded, but will was able to dispel that through one single painting and his own feelings for mike. it’s such a blatant way of showing the contrast between two love interests in a love triangle.

i guess one way milevens could disprove this giant piece of evidence and plotline is them desperately hoping that the painting has “fulfilled it’s purpose” and will never be brought up again, which, unfortunately, isn’t happening because the interview below basically confirms that mike learning the full truth behind the painting and will’s feelings for him will be carried over to the final season as a part of will’s journey, and it being resolved would complete his arc.

in a way, the painting was a plot device, but not to fix mileven's relationship, it was a way of setting up mileven’s inevitable falling out and byler getting together where there’d quite literally be no way out and no other satisfying way to resolve this plotline anymore. it would only make sense if this was the intention because the truth literally heavily centers around will’s love for mike and how deep and beautiful it is, while el’s supposed feelings and words that made mike feel loved didn’t directly come from her and was expressed through a lie. byler was already set in stone through the van scene.

#do mlvns seriously think that their ship wouldn’t be heavily impacted when the truth behind the painting comes out #when thats literally the entire basis for mike’s security in his relationship with el...#like hes not just gonna brush over the fact that all of those were will’s feelings and not el’s!#especially when he finds out el had 0 actual involvement in the painting #byler analysis #byler proof #byler

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fairydares · 1 year

Text

fuck it, new fic. let's do this.

(there's a 'keep reading' line so don't worry, this isn't too long.)

Title: Chasing Tails (AO3 Link) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Rating: E (Explicit) because I'm almost positive there will be eventual smut. I'll be clearer about this as I actually decide what I'm going to write lol. Overarching Warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence.

Categories: 2nd gen fic; adventure, humor, romance, fluff, and angst in approximately that order. i guess.

Pairings: Nalu, Gruvia, Gajevy, Jerza, Miraxus+Fried (don't know what that ship's called sorry), Chendy, Sting/Yukino, Baccana-- next gen has pairings, too, but I don't want to reveal those yet.

Tags/TW's: The first chapter contains UFC/MMA-esque violence as well as some implied street violence. There may be more TW's I need to add later, but I honestly haven't written the whole story or decided everything, so that's all I can give you for now. I'll do my best to tag appropriately as I go.

Summary: It’s been almost 12 years since 17-year-old Layla O'Neil was found living alone on the streets and put in foster care, and she likes to think she’s done a pretty good job of forgetting the past. She doesn’t remember her birth family, the name “Nashi [*1] Dragneel,” or where she heard the absurd stories she told the police who found her. Stories about Wizard Guilds, flying cats, and–most cringey of all–her self-proclaimed status as a “Fire Dragon Slayer.”

But the past becomes pretty impossible to ignore when it confronts her in the form of some middle-aged, pink-haired stalker who won’t stop calling her the ridiculous name she’d nearly forgotten, and trying to convince her to come back to “Fairy Tale.”

Oh, and claiming to be her dad.

Like Layla doesn’t have enough problems! The last thing she needs is some delusional freak following around. Especially one who’s starting to make her want to take his hand…

Yep, this is a Second Gen (and therefore post-canon) fic. The idea took root and just would not let go. I’ll warn you ahead of time that the premise is somewhat dark. That said, I’m the kind of writer who likes (and tries to write) stories with sad beginnings, hopeful middles, and triumphant ends. I don't want to give too much away, but you shouldn't expect major character deaths or anything like that, though their may be some forms of lightly implied abuse.

Feel free to reblog, make your own additions with commentary, whatever. I'm quite lax with stuff like that. Hope this was comprehensive enough, and that you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Dragon-Slaying Aliens

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“That’s correct…a world that exists independently from the one we know. And, unfortunately, a world that’s begun losing its Magic…unlike here, in Edolas, Magic is a finite resource. Without limits on its use, it will one day disappear forever.” -from Episode 78, “Edolas”, (English dub, ~00:09), Carla’s line [*1]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------To say this mission had gone sideways was a big-ass understatement, and even Natsu had to admit it.

It had started well enough. A relatively small mission. Not even S-Class! Puny wannabe Dark Guilds like the one Shirotsume needed dealt with–what was it called? Bony Jewel or something? Anyways, they were a dime a dozen, these days. Hell, Natsu was pretty sure he and Happy took out, like, a billion of them in the past seven years by pure accident. So how the hell was he supposed to know that this time, he’d get blasted to another world–one even Team Natsu hadn’t wound up in?

And he was positive they’d never been here. He may have had a bad memory (something he’d begrudgingly been forced to actively acknowledge as he grew into a man) but he was sure he’d have remembered somewhere that made him feel this bad. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t use his Magic. If it had just been that, this might have been fun. Hell, a lot of the worlds Team Natsu had visited–even Edolas–had been fun.

This one sucked.

If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought he’d been transported to the future–one where FACE had been activated and all the Magic had been dissipated. Because it had felt, truly, like all the Magic was being sucked out of him. When he’d woken up on the forest floor, he’d felt as if he was dying. His lungs had burned with each breath (and not in the good way). His limbs had felt like lead when he tried to rise.

He’d quickly realized that couldn’t be the case, though. Even if the Dragons hadn’t destroyed FACE, if all the Magic had been sucked from Earthland he’d have Magical Deficiency Syndrome. He’d either be down or in forced into his END form.

He’d wandered around the small forest he’d woken up in alone, trying to focus through the stink and noise he was only capable of perceiving through what felt like about a hundred layers of thick blanket, and calling for his best friend as long as he could. It hadn’t been long before he gave up and left; Happy had never shouted back (something he considered fortunate, at this point; hopefully Happy was back in Earthland) his stomach was trying to eat itself, it was dark–and, worst of all–he still couldn’t use his Magic. At all.

Actually, scratch that: the absolute worst part was when a glance at his (as usual) bare shoulder showed him that his guild mark had vanished. It was just gone. So was his scarf, and so was his Mini Communication Lacrima. Obviously, his guild mark and scarf were bigger deals personally, but the Mini Comm was a bigger loss in immediate, practical terms. After That Day, seven years ago, Laxus–now Fairy Tail’s Master–had started putting Navigation Enchantments on everyone’s Comms so that anyone who went missing could be traced. There was a 3D map of Earthland and Edolas visually tracking everyone’s movements in the Master’s Office. It could even find them in Edolas.

Now, Natsu’s was nowhere to be found. No one would be able to find him, wherever he was, and any hopes of contacting them were obviously dead in the water, too.

He was gonna have to find his own way back, somehow. He only prayed his scarf was somehow back in Earthland, and that Happy had grabbed it for him.

As he hobbled down the weird, too-neat walkway he’d found, he had to believe that whatever was preventing him from using his Magic was what kept him from sensing anything beyond the general–the stink, the sound, the pain, the hunger. Normally, with his better-than-normal resilience and enhanced strength, his pain would have mostly taken care of itself by now. Usually, making himself move helped. Now, it seemed to be making things worse.

After finding the pathway, he’d kept shouting for his little buddy a whole bunch of times, but all he’d gotten were several loud verbal confrontations and one physical one. He’d expected to beat the massive brute towering next to the smaller woman beside him–and he had. But it hadn’t been as easy as he’d expected. His movements had been slower than normal. His limbs had felt like lead. His strength had been lesser. Every time he tried to call up his Magic, a wave of dizziness and lethargy had overcome him. It was like he’d feel the rushing up inside of him only to sputter to coldness at the last second; he hadn’t seen so much as a spark since he’d woken up.

In the end, it was only experience and determination which had allowed him to level the much larger man, and hard-earned wisdom which had seen him running from the screeching woman and the gun-wielding, uniform-wearing soldiers her screeching had drawn. Yet the punch he’d taken to the nose had made it bleed and the kick to the thigh had made him limp.

It wasn’t just that his Dragon senses had vanished, making him woozy, making it difficult to stand and excruciating to move. His strength was gone as well. Not even sealstone would have weakened him this much.

He’d wandered, now, for what felt like several hours. The number of Magical Vehicles around were astounding–astounding, and nauseating; just looking at them made Natsu want to vomit. The one good part of having an empty stomach was that he had nothing to give up. He meandered in a stupor, through unbelievably thick crowds, dodging Magic Vehicles and their honking, and glaring down anyone who yelled at him for not understanding something, occasionally barking back to scare them off.

He’d never been so disoriented, and the worst part was that deep down, he knew that there was no one to blame but himself.

Lucy and Happy had asked him, point-blank, if the Quest he’d chosen had anything to do with his search for their long-lost daughter and kitten.

It had. Of course it had.

However, Natsu had denied it. Because if he hadn’t, he and Happy wouldn’t have been able to leave right then. Lucy would have forced him to bring someone else along; she was busy taking care of their son, Luke; the Perve-sicle was already out on his own mission/search for Juvia, and Erza was away, which meant he’d have had to ask someone outside Team Natsu.

No thanks, he’d decided, covering up the fine print on the mission request with his fingers before holding it up to Lucy’s nose.

Now, as he snarled at yet another person yelling at him for being in the way, Natsu was starting to consider the possibility that he just maybe should’ve been more upfront, and even that he should–perhaps–have waited for the stripper to get back before taking on Bony Jewel or whatever alone.

But how the hell was he supposed to have known it would end up like this?! It had been going fine–in fact, it had been going great! A couple opponents had offered a real challenge before their Master had shown up. Natsu had been laying down brick in that fight, too. Yet when the guy had been on his last legs, he’d whipped some creepy, sparkly rainbow skull from nowhere (now that he thought about it…that might have been what the Guild was named for!) and shot one last attack. One so big, Natsu had been unable to dodge–though, of course, he’d made to both block and finish the fight with an enormously powerful Fire Dragon Wing Attack.

Based on his current predicament–he had to assume it hadn’t worked. Even though the skull had shattered in the heat of his flames at the last second, the blast had still hit him. His one consolation was that he was pretty sure his little buddy had heeded his final warning to get back. So he was almost definitely still back in Earthland.

It had taken Natsu several pathetic attempts to stand. Getting here felt like a blur. Now, he had no idea what he was doing. What he should do. Their money had been in Happy’s knapsack, and without his precious nose, finding food was basically impossible anway.

Man…Lucy’s gonna kill me, he grumbled internally, grunting at another group who shouted at him for bumping into him.

Okay, yeah, maybe he should’ve been honest. Maybe he should’ve waited. But how could he do that when the lead was so good? When there was even the smallest chance he might finally find Nashi [*]?

At the thought, his footsteps halted temporarily. He ducked his head, bangs shadowing his eyes. He balled his fists at his sides. The thought of the missing daughter he’d never stopped searching for never got easier to bear.

It was the worst thing that could happen to a parent, to lose their child. Something he wouldn’t have wished on Fairy Tail’s most vicious, evil enemy. He and Lucy understood that too intimately. Still, he didn’t let himself get bogged down, not when it might hold him back, not when it might keep him from finding her. Seven years, she’d been gone. Her, Wendy–so many of their nakama and allies. Time had neither hindered nor halted his search for any of his missing comrades, but especially his little girl. She’d be twelve, now. He’d gotten better with birthdays and anniversaries when he married Lucy. He’d woken up and started crying on April 14th this year, the same as his wife.

Still, even on that day, he’d spoken of her. When he was with Luke, Lucy, and Happy, he talked about it. He talked about how he’d find her and Harley–Happy and Carla’s kitten–how they’d be a family again. He spoke of the future to give it power, just like Igneel had taught him. Just like he’d taught his own kids. Wherever Nashi was, he was sure she must be doing the same; speaking of how she’d find them again, the same as he strove to find her.

But he couldn’t continue his search (covert or not) until he got home. So getting home was definitely at the top of the to-do list. Right after eating.

He kept walking.

Wherever he’d wound up was seedy, dark, yet strewn with lights that made paths across his newly-sucky eyes when he looked at them directly. Gross and smelly, too. The people he’d just bumped into started shouting back at him, something about bumping into someone’s girlfriend, and he huffed irritably. Normally, he’d never back down from a challenge like this, but believe it or not, he was too lost, confused, hungry, and tired to deal with another fight–not when the injuries he’d sustained from the previous one were still hurting this much.

It was humiliating. He’d always been the type of person who refused to back down from a fight, no matter how outmatched he was. These days, a lot of fights were honestly pretty boring for him. Erza would always be scary, and Gray was admittedly pretty strong (if not badass enough to stand up to him, or so he would always insist). He could proudly admit to having achieved (at least) Gildarts-level strength without the clumsiness to make him dangerous.

Now, he was balking out of fights with people who weren’t even using Magic.

There was something viscerally terrifying about how much his injuries were troubling him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t limp without worsening whatever injury that asshole had doled out on his knee. His nose felt bigger than his head.

He stumbled on, brooding.

The guy whose girlfriend he’d bumped into got louder, closer. Obviously, the freak wasn’t gonna let it go. Cursing, he started hobbling more quickly, turning the next corner. To his relief and curiosity, bright lights, loud voices, and a huge crowd–littered with food stands he might be able to beg food from–appeared. He made his way into the thick of it, ignoring the shouts behind him, and ducked and wove between people. It took him several seconds to realize he was still trying to find food by his nose, which barely even freaking worked. Frustrated, he turned his attention to the source of the light, which seemed to focus down on whatever sat in the middle of the crowd.

Curiosity shoving past the numbness and hunger, Natsu pushed his way towards it.

“Ow!”

“Hey!”

“Watch it, freak!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natsu grumbled. “Watch your damn selves!”

He still felt like shit, but the crowd was oddly invigorating. As he crashed through the thickest (front) lines of the crowd, more lights came on while the darkness behind him fell deeper. Natsu winced, blinking. It took him a few moments to register what he’d stumbled upon: a roundish sort of stage, elevated a few feet off the ground and bordered by some kind of chain-link cage thing. Two corners were open to be entered, but fended off by some big dudes in black suits, holding back the crowd.

“WELCOME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” boomed a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere at once, making Natsu flinch again and the crowd start chattering loudly.

Match? Natsu wondered despite his disorientation and exhaustion, thinking of the Grand Magic Games. He shoved aside every stranger who tried to take his place at the front of the audience, looking around with wide, curious eyes, shoving his gnawing stomach to the backburner.

“FIGHT FANS! ARE YOU REAAAADDDDYYYYY??!!! ”

Fight? Natsu thought, perking up, conveniently forgetting his injuries in a burst of excitement. Several people started chattering at the crack of the loud voice that was everywhere and nowhere, making Natsu look around even more fervently.

“BECAUSE THIS LONG-WAITED MATCH-UP IS… ABOUT…TO…BEGINNNN!!!”

The cheering got louder, the shoving got more aggressive, and Natsu got more aggressive right along with it. He’d be damned if he was going to miss a good fight. Besides. He needed to see what the Magic here was like. He was being smart. So ha! How about that, Lucy?!

“INTRODUCING: OUR FIRST FIGHTER!” the voice shouted while Natsu continued to elbow and shove, anticipation rising. Music rang out, a dude’s loud, snarly voice backed up by a bunch of deep bangs and booms which had Natsu trying to decide if what he was listening to was awesome or fucking awful–nope, definitely fucking awful. For the first time, he was glad he couldn’t hear properly since he got here.

A light flashed at one corner, drawing his eye. “UNLIKE HIS OPPONENT, THIS FIGHTER IS WELL-ESTABLISHED IN THE SEMI-UNDERGROUND OCTAGON! HAD HIS PERFORMANCES BEEN FORMALLY JUDGED WHILE THE UNDERGROUND WAS STILL ACTIVE, HE WOULD LIKELY HAVE LONG-BEEN PERMANENTLY DISQUALIFIED! YET, IN SPITE OF A CONTROVERSIAL CAREER, HE HAS REMAINED A STAPLE OF THE SEMI-OCTAGON FIGHTING WORLD FOR TWO YEARS!”

“Er, feels kinda harsh?” Natsu muttered to himself, sweating slightly. Though he didn’t really get what “controversial career” meant.

“WHILE THIS IS NOT FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE, DUE TO HIS HISTORY, MANY WILL NO DOUBT VIEW HIM AS REIGNING CHAMP AND DEFENDER! INNNNTTRRROOODUUUCCCINNNG… ‘MAD BULL’ MATTHEW BRON!”

A door Natsu hadn’t even seen was slammed open as if it had been kicked, and an enormous man–even bigger than the one that had managed to tag Natsu just a little bit ago, a man built like that potato head guy from Lamia Scale, and actually bearing a similar-shaped bald head–appeared, yanking off headphones and chucking them over his massive shoulder one of the lackeys who’d followed him out. The much shorter guy jumped, barely catching them and fumbling a lot once he had. “Mad Cow” or whatever grinned maniacally as he stormed for the ring, dark eyes wild.

The response from the crowd was mixed but mostly positive, Natsu quickly noticed as he glanced around. His eyes skated quickly over the group next to him (which was booing, unlike most of the crowd) then returned his focus to the stage-circle thing. He could see well enough, he was glad to note, even if his vision was nowhere near as sharp as it was back on Earthland. Big Guy took his place at the corner of the ring and immediately started pacing, lifting tree-like arms and roaring as he did so. Meanwhile his lackey scurried for the bit of protected corner behind him, trying to shout for his attention and getting nowhere as he continued to pace.

Natsu quickly decided he didn’t like the looks of this guy, intro aside. He was the type of asshole Natsu lived to knock down a peg, and despite his injuries and exhaustion, Natsu found himself appraising the big bastard, hands twitching. Sure, he wasn’t in the best shape, but since when had he been one to turn down the chance to kick some ass? It was more a reflex than anything. For about the billionth time since he’d landed here, he tried conjuring up some fire only to curse internally as all he got for his efforts was a wave of dizziness and a wash of helplessness.

“NOW FOR OUR CONTENDER,” the voice boomed. “SHE’D ONLY BARELY ENTERED THE UNDERGROUND BEFORE IT BECAME THE SEMI-UNDER, BUT WAS ALREADY MAKING WAVES! THIS FIGHTER HAS SPARKED INTENSE DEBATE ABOUT WHETHER WOMEN SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO FIGHT MEN–IN ANY OCTAGON!” More mixed din. Natsu frowned in confusion. Was it for the other fighters’ safety or something? Because someone should ban Erza from contributing to the guild hall violence. Oh, yes. That was a great idea. He’d have to bring the idea up to Gray when he got home.

“BUT IT’S DIFFICULT TO ARGUE WITH HER HANDY VICTORIES!” the voice boomed. “THANKS TO HER NEARLY-UNBROKEN STREAK OF INSANE WINS, SHE HAS BEEN NICKNAMED THE THE ‘PHOENIX’, ‘UNDERDOG’, ‘TENMEN’...AND HER PREFERRED NICKNAME…”

A new song started, and this one was undeniably cool, in Natsu’s opinion. Something hard, fast, and catchy, punctuated by an angry-sounding woman singing something about “not giving a damn” about something or other. The door at the opposite end of the ring swung open. A girl came swaggering out, and Natsu froze.

“THE DRAGONESS, LAYLAAAAA O'NEEEILLLLL!!!!”

It wasn’t his daughter. It couldn’t be. Her name wasn’t Layla. Her name was Nashi. His Nashi would be twelve, and this girl was in her late teens–maybe even her early twenties. The fact that her fighting nickname was “The Dragoness” was a nasty coincidence, but that’s all it was. This couldn’t be Earthland’s Nashi.

But it was this world’s Nashi. Of that, there was no doubt. And Natsu couldn’t make himself take his eyes off her, couldn’t even make himself blink as he stared, ignoring the cheering and booing all around him.

A couple strands of unruly pink hair at her bangs had broken free of their tight braids, as adorable and predictably unpredictable as his little girl’s. They clung to her forehead, bouncing as she strutted towards the monster still pacing, practically frothing at the mouth, and Natsu vaguely registered the sound of several peoples’ alarmed murmuring. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he’d have understood; she was about half the guy’s size and about -50% as insane-looking.

Not scared, though.

And…she looked like Lucy. She looked so much like Lucy that it hurt. He could still remember times when he’d call his little girl’s name, she’d turn around, and he’d gasp–because it really was like an adorable, wild little pink-haired Lucy turning to look up at him, her whole face lighting up like he was the greatest thing in Earthland. The memory choked him up, a feeling he’d gotten used to over the past seven years. He swallowed hard.

But that wasn’t Lucy’s smile. Natsu felt like he had seen that smile somewhere but he wasn’t particularly interested in thinking about it all that deeply, because what mattered was that it was her smile, his little girl’s, big and toothy and unmistakable–a little lopsided, the corners of her lips characteristically curling.

It hit his chest like a shot from Zeref, making him briefly clutch at his waistcoat’s dirtied fabric.

Natsu knew, firsthand, just how similar other worlds’ versions of his loved ones could be to his. Hell, Edolas Lucy had chopped off her hair to make it a little easier to distinguish herself from Earthland Lucy.

That didn’t make it hurt any less to suddenly see another world’s Nashi– Layla, this one was called. That was Nashi’s middle name. It made sense, when you thought about it. Names were one thing that seemed to sometimes differ slightly between worlds, as he’d learned on the 100-Year-Quest [*3]. Her canines were sorta sharp, maybe, but they weren’t Dragon Slayer sharp, like his and daughter’s. Besides. Edo Nashi and Fireball’s canines were a tiny bit sharper than normal, too.

It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be. Looking at her still felt like being punched in the chest by Erza. Yet he couldn’t stop watching as the music, cheers, and boos faded, she stripped off her sweats (to much catcalling and whistling) to reveal a black sports bra/shorts getup sort of like “Mad Bull’s” shorts, revealing a body packed with much more muscle than any of Fairy Tail’s women would’ve allowed themselves to accumulate. She looked pretty badass, he decided.

The voice that was everywhere and nowhere boomed on:

“NOT ONLY A CHANCE AT THE UPCOMING TITLE ON THE LINE, BUT–POTENTIALLY–THE FUTURE OF MIXED SEMI-UNDERS. TWO CHALLENGERS, SQUARING OFF FOR A CHANCE AT THE SEMI-FINALS. THIS IS A GIGANTIC CULTURAL MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF THIS SPORT… ‘MAD BULL’ MATTHEW BRON VS. THE ‘DRAGONESS’ LAYLA O'NEIL!”

“‘Dragoness’ is fucking right!” Mad Cow or whatever roared while he hugged one arm across his chest, grinning ferally at his much smaller opponent. “Here hoping some man will look at you, fugly?!”

Several people in the audience laughed. Even the announcer chuckled. Meanwhile, Natsu’s blood boiled. On some level, he knew he needed to separate himself from this. From this fight, from this “Nashi.” Especially when he was this powerless to do anything about any of it. But it was impossible to listen to someone say that to another version of his daughter and not have every protective instinct in his body flare, especially when the spectators apparently thought it was fucking hilarious.

However, her grin didn’t even flicker. “Like you’re one to talk!” she cackled. “You look like Popeye fucked Bigfoot!”

Natsu didn’t flinch at the language like many people in the audience seemed to. In fact, he found the disapproving murmurs confusing. The other guy hadn’t exactly been polite, but he hadn’t gotten the same reaction. Still, a solid number of people were laughing their asses off, including the group next to him which had booed Mad Cow.

He also had no clue what the hell she’d just said even meant, but the way Mad Cow’s smile dropped off his face, a handful of people started howling with laughter, and the commentator’s chuckles cut off abruptly was enough to make Natsu grin.

Some random guy in some sort of black, collared uniform entered the arena, signaling to the loud, annoying commentator. Unlike her opponent, no one had followed This Nashi into the arena; she was all alone. So she ran back to her own bit of protected yet empty corner and threw her clothes and a water bottle over the chainlink fence, then ran back towards the middle of the arena. There, she hopped up and down, shaking out her arms. Stretched them above her head.

“OUCH!” The commentator finally seemed to recover, though he sounded somewhat vexed. “WELL, ONE THING’S FOR SURE, THE CHALLENGER CAN TALK GAME…WHETHER SHE CAN LIVE UP TO IT IS ANOTHER QUESTION.”

“God, I fucking hate when Hansis commentates,” the guy next to Natsu muttered, his friends snorting in agreement. Then he glanced at Natsu–only to double take. “Oi, are you related to the Dragoness or something?!” he asked, eyes on his hair.

“Uhhh…” Natsu chuckled nervously, feeling himself start to sweat. He may have been what Erza would (and frequently did ) call an “impulsive idiot”, but he had no clue how to explain that he was the father of her other self. “Something like that.”

“Whoa, seriously?!” The guy’s friend leaned around him to look at Natsu with wide, shining eyes, then continued, “I won’t ask anymore, ‘cause obviously you’re trying to protect your identities or something, but that’s so cool! We’re huge fans!”

“Hmm…” Natsu said, scanning their apparel–t-shirts and hats emblazoned with her face and silhouette–and what looked like homemade signs of her name, written in fiery letters. “I can see that…what is this, exactly?” He asked this while looking around at the lights, spectators, an unfamiliar kind of money being exchanged and counted between several people.

Natsu tilted his head, blinking. “No?” he said.

“The semi-underground tournament?” the only girl in the group said, eyes almost as wide as her friend’s. When Natsu only continued to look confused, she said, “What, do you live under a rock?! You’ve at least heard of MMA, right? Mixed Martial Arts?”

He perked up at this. “Like a fight?! Hell, yeah! How do I get in on this?!” He grinned, cracking his knuckles, his earlier scuffles and empty stomach completely forgotten.

“YOU DON’T!” the entire group shouted, eyes bugging.

The dude who’d first started talking to him huffed, sweating slightly. “The ‘semi-underground’ octagon used to just be called ‘the underground fights,’” he explained loudly, Natsu still having to lean in to catch what he said with his new, bad ears over the increasingly excited din. “It was illegal, but, like, illegal in the ‘everyone knows but won’t squeal’ way, you know?”

Natsu nodded, fully getting this. After all, how many times had soldiers arrested him only for Queen Hisui to let him off with a finger-wag. Of course, his luck on that front had run out seven years ago…

“The feds finally cracked down on it,” the guy continued, “but didn’t prosecute any of the fighters. Now, it’s called the ‘Semi-Underground’...it’s got no weight-classes (which is why the Dragoness can fight big dudes like Mad Bull). All genders are free to compete and fight each other. It’s a bit more for entertainment than pure fighting prowess– that was different, before,” the guy added with a wistful tone. “But still! You can’t just go waltzing into the octagon, you know? Back in the basement where this used to happen, you could’ve gotten away with that, but now you’ve gotta work for it, you know? Seriously, do you live under a rock or something?”

Irritated, Natsu opened his mouth, but his response was cut off when a loud voice–not as loud as the announcer, but still–redrew all their attention to the ring. “Alright, fighters,” the black-collar guy said into a microphone which was smaller and not as loud as the commentator’s, quieting the audience. “We’ve been over the rules. Protect yourself at all times. Follow my instructions. We’re going to have a clean fight, you hear me?” He glared at Mad Bull, but This Nashi was the only one who dipped her chin in recognition. Natsu’s eyes narrowed along with hers when her opponent refused to acknowledge the guy’s words. “Now, touch gloves at this time, and come out ready to do this!”

Both fighters instantly danced away from each other. Black collar guy scowled. Both the commentator and the audience made sounds like “ OOOOOOOH!”

“NO TOUCH!” came the commentator’s gleeful voice, “I REPEAT, NEITHER FIGHTER TOUCHED GLOVES, AND SO FAR, NEITHER ARE REALLY MOVING FOR EACH OTHER–”

“SAY YOU’RE PRAYERS, BITCH!” Mad Cow roared. “YOU’RE DEAD MEAT!”

“BRING IT!” This Nashi roared back, and Mad Cow lunged, swinging in immediately with a big, dramatic overhand hook that would have knocked her out immediately if she hadn’t skated out of its way. It took about three similar exchanges for Natsu to sag in disappointment.

“Oi!” he shouted, utterly let down, “Where the hell’s the magic?!”

“Geez!” the guy next to him laughed. “The fight’s only just started: give them a minute to warm up! Then we’ll get to see the cool stuff.”

“What, they’re not allowed to use it at first or something?” Natsu asked, still staring as This Nashi fended off huge, devastating blows raining down from above and leapt back from the powerful kicks, eyes narrowed and expression tight.

“...Er, what?” the guy asked.

“Magic–duh!” Natsu huffed, flickering wide eyes between the guy and This Nashi, who was now darting backwards around the round-ish ring, still fending Mad Cow off, weaving and ducking with a speed few could hope to match. “You know?! Fire, Ice, Celestial Magic…?

The guy stared at him for a second along with his companions, all of whom were also sweating. It was then that Natsu knew:

Something more was going on here. Something he didn’t understand. This place…wherever he was, it was like Edolas. Not now, but back when he, Lucy, and the others had gone there. Magic didn’t just not exist, here; was some kind of… taboo on it.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. Trying to keep his voice as quiet as he could over the crowd, he continued, “I didn’t mean to say something that would get you in trouble...”

The group’s only response was to sidle away from him surreptitiously, glancing at him and sharing looks with wide eyes. Natsu was thrown for a loop once more. Ooo- kay, talk about overly-suspicious. Were there guards listening in on their conversation or something? As discreetly as possible, with his hand still at the back of his head, he looked around, eyes narrowed.

Yet…he saw nothing to warrant their suspicion. An unruly crowd…and an astonishing lack of guards. At the Grand Magic Games, there’d always been a ton of guards. Way more than he wanted to be there, honestly. Did this have something to do with the whole “underground” thing?

He looked at the group again, then realized something important: it was him they were looking at nervously. Nervously, and like…he was crazy or something.

It had taken time, but the years had made Natsu wiser–cooler–about situations like this. Even as his stomach sank with the realization that getting home was going to be a much harder task than he’d initially realized, he acknowledged that he’d need to be careful about mentioning Magic here. Dropping his hand, he forced a small smile at them then turned his attention back to the arena, where Mad Cow continued to chase This Nashi around the edge of the arena. Meanwhile, his mind continued to reel, loud to himself and no one else.

“–IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE SHE’S CAUGHT IN A CLINCH, HERE, AND THEN OUR NIGHT WILL BE OVER!” the commentator was blaring. It was sort of surprising, how easily he’d been able to tune out when Natsu’s ears were registering so little. “I HATE TO SAY IT–” (Based on the glee in his tone, Natsu doubted that.) “–BUT HOWEVER MUCH OF AN EXTRAORDINARY FIGHTER SHE IS, SHE’S STILL A FEMALE FIGHTER. HER OPPONENT HAS WELL OVER A HUNDRED POUNDS ON HER [*4]. AND, AGAIN, I HATE TO SAY THIS–BUT THERE ARE JUST PHYSICAL BARRIERS NO CHICK FIGHTER WILL EVER BE ABLE TO OVERCOME! RIGHT NOW, THIS IS A DOG FIGHT, AND NOT ONE SHE CAN KEEP SCRAPPING IN! SHE’S NOT GOING TO COME OUT AS THE ‘UNDERDOG,’ THIS TIME–”

“Man, she’s getting her ass beat!” someone from the group broke the awkward silence as This Nashi was swept aside by a blow that caught the guard at her ear.

“Maybe she’ll make a comeback!” another guy said, tremulous but hopeful, as a log-like shin crashed into her stomach.

“She definitely will!” the guy who’d first spoken to Natsu said, though there was a distant note of doubt in his voice as she barely reeled from an arrow-fast straight right.

Despite the awkwardness of their last interaction, Natsu couldn’t help appreciating these people, who were so devoted to this world’s Nashi. He decided to end their night more positively. “Is that what you think?” he asked in a somewhat bored tone, eyes on the girl still gliding backwards, dancing away from the hits and kicks or else blocking them. He felt, rather than saw, the group’s eyes jumping to him, some of them quickly leaping away only to dart back.

“What do you mean?” the first guy ventured when he said nothing else, edging a little closer once more.

Natsu crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes thinning as Big Boy brought down a hailstorm of fists on This Nashi’s head. His eyes tracked the way a particularly big hit caught her forearm–but only barely, seeing as she’d slid out of the enormous range even as she blocked. Just like he’d thought…

His stomach churned uncomfortably. It was eerie and cruel, how much her movements and the memories aligned–

“OUCH! That hurt, Daddy!” After the exclamation, Nashi began grumbling, vigorously rubbing her forearm where his fist had just him.

“Woops!” Natsu chuckled sheepishly, “My bad!”

Despite the fact that she was still rubbing the arm he’d tapped with a light hit, the little girl who barely came up above his knees scowled.

It was midday, now. In their front lawn; his and Happy’s house, now much larger with the rooms he’d added for Lucy and their kids.

“But–” He grew serious. “–you think your enemies will take it easy on you, Nashi? You think they’ll give you a break because you say ‘ouch’?”

She dropped her arms to her sides and scowled–pouted, really. She was so cute, he couldn’t have kept his lips from quirking into a grin if he tried. Strutting forward, he planted a hand on top of her head, rubbing the unruly locks. He only grinned wider when she turned her scowl/pout up to him. “Sorry, kiddo, but they won’t!”

Lucy would have lost her mind, if she saw the interaction. Natsu could just hear her now: “NATSU, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?! SHE’S FIVE! BE CAREFUL, WOULD YOU? BLAH BLAH BLURGH BLAH– !”

He never really got Lucy, when she acted like that. Nashi was a Dragon Slayer, like him. She could take much more than a normal human, but would never learn that she could if he didn’t show her! Not to mention that Igneel had been way tougher on him, when he was five. Besides, he didn’t want his kid to be some weakling! What father did want that?

Not any good ones, that was for sure. Especially not when their kids had Nashi’s determination and drive.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he apologized again, still rubbing her head affectionately. “But you’ve got to understand…if I hurt you, it’s because I know your enemies will hurt you the same way…I don’t want it to surprise you. I want you to be able to fight back, still. You do still want to be a big-time Dragon Slayer, don’t you?”

She stared up at him dubiously, but the smile caught on quick. She’d never been able to resist smiling back at him.

“...Yeah,” she admitted finally, feigning reluctance.

He lifted his hand off her head, cupping it around his ear and leaning down towards her. “What was that?!” he shouted. “I couldn’t hear you…what was it you want?!”

“I–pfft–I WANT–” Her small smile turned to a grin–the big, corner-curled grin only his daughter ever could or would achieve. The one that always melted his heart.

“I WANNA BE A DRAGON SLAYER!” she managed to roar through her grin. “NO–I MEAN, I WANNA BE THE STRONGEST DRAGON SLAYER EVER!”

“HELL YEAH, YOU DO!” he roared back, the pride managing to make his chest burst even as he squared up again, preparing for more training. An adrenaline only teaching one’s prodigy could spark electrocuted his system. “IF THAT’S REALLY TRUE, THEN COME ON, NASHI! YOU’VE GOT MORE IN YOU! I KNOW YOU DO!”

“OH YEAH? WELL I DO! I GOT WAY MORE IN ME!” She dropped into the stance he’d taught her, grinning for everything she was worth. The sun illuminated her smile.

He somehow managed to grin even more widely. “Right, then listen up!” he commanded. “When Dragon Slayers fight, they got one big advantage: they can take a whole bunch of hits–then still get up. So that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

“...Huh?!” The little girl’s eyes bulged out of her head. “You’re sayin’ I’m gonna let myself get hit?!”

“Well, not too hard,” he elaborated. “And not too much…you’re just gonna play defense for a while, see?” He moved for her, throwing a fist much more slowly than he normally would have. Automatically, she wove away, eyes wide on his face. His right fist was followed by his left, then a kick–all too sluggish to be real. She easily moved around and blocked all of them. “This way,” he continued, throwing another kick. “You can learn the guy you’re fighting, how step, how they breathe…”

“How they step…how they breathe…” she repeated to herself in a murmur, eyes flickering all over his body as he continued to pantomime a real fight. Natsu couldn’t help but grin. Nashi was a distractible kid, but when it came to fighting, she was always on the ball.

Natsu didn’t mind one bit when Lucy blamed him for that.

“...how they fight,” he finished.

“...how they fight!” she whispered.

He started speeding up his movements. Let her orient before he lit up his fists. She mirrored him, flames igniting her much smaller fists. Their dance became even faster “That’s it, Nashi!” he praised as she leapt back from a kick, only letting it clip her shoulder. “Get into the flow of it! Read my movements! Remember, breathe, and–”

“She’s reading him,” he murmured, voice softer than he’d meant it to be. “Fending him off and waiting for the right moment; his hits are only clipping her.” His hunger was catching up with him again, as was his pain. He ached. He wanted to sleep. And…

…It hurt. It hurt too much. Knowing it wasn’t his Nashi…that just made it hurt more. Each hit, each block, each flash of those brown eyes…they felt like shards of glass piercing his heart.

I can’t stay here, he realized.

“What was that?” the girl in the group asked, venturing closer to him.

His heart was heavy, sinking as he watched the girl. Embarrassment washed over him as he realized that had been a stupid thing to say in the first place. This wasn’t his Nashi. She wasn’t using what he’d taught her because he hadn’t been the one to train her. Hell, she probably wasn’t even gauging her opponents’ movements; she was probably fighting for her life, here.

She would lose.

“Nothin’,” he replied thickly, dropping his arms even as he watched the girl roll away from a rather impressive and extremely long-ranged crescent kick, not even the man’s big toe catching her at all. “I was wrong…enjoy the rest of the fight, guys.” He used the ensuing beat of silence to stare–for just one more second–at the girl. This world’s version of his girl.

Without thinking, he went to heft up his backpack, only to sigh in quiet defeat–the exhale almost visible even in the warm air–as he remembered it wasn’t there; he was just a weakling in this world. That’s why his back (and whole body) felt so heavy.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” the first guy who’d spoken to him said as he turned away, pushing back through the crowd. His tone was an odd mixture of relieved and disappointed. Natsu said nothing, merely waving.

Overhead, the booming voice–which he’d tuned out during the competition–continued to sound off. “–AN ADMITTEDLY UNBELIEVABLE DODGE, BY ,” it said, clearly shocked, as Natsu pushed past a woman who was obviously excited to be moving closer to the arena. “BUT THE NEXT FLURRY OF BLOWS LANDS, ALTHOUGH IT APPEARS SHE’S BLOCKED MOST OF THEM–”

“YOU’RE DONE, BITCH!” roared Mad Cow, so loud that he managed to drown out the commentator–who went silent, anyway. This made Natsu pause, his brows knitting with fury.

It doesn’t matter, he reminded himself. She’s not your daughter. He refused to look back, forced himself to take another step, then another. She’s just some fighter from another world who’s, apparently, out of her league. She’s not–

A loud slam, like a body falling on a mat. “SHE’S DOWN! I REPEAT, ’S DOWN!”

Natsu smirked. “See, dumbass?” he murmured to himself.

“IT’S ALL OVER, FOLKS! SHE’S–”

All of a sudden, a fleshy CRACK rang through the air, followed by an enormous chorus of gasps and cries of surprise from the crowd. A deafening silence ensued.

“... HOLY– UNBELIEVABLE!” the commentator managed. “A KICK FROM THE GROUND–AND O’NEIL'S BACK ON HER FEET! THEY’VE GAINED GROUND FROM EACH OTHER, AND MAD BULL–MAD BULL IS NOW TRYING TO RECOVER!”

Despite himself, Natsu slowed even as he urged himself to keep walking. Even as he continued to force himself not to turn back. Looking back is only a distraction. It’s not Nashi. That is not Nashi. It’s not–

“Man, I really hate guys like you, you know that?”

The seething voice was what made him stop, closing his eyes. There was just…something about it. A growl. A fire. Something that punched right back into his memories:

“Remember, breathe, and keep your eyes on my chest! That way, you can see my whole body at the corners of your eyes!” A combo, one which he pumped more speed and power to than before–throwing her off on purpose.

“Oof!” she grunted as she landed on her butt.

“There, when you fall– that’s when you make your comeback! Now that you’ve watched your opponent, and tricked him into thinking you’re down– now is when you get back up and blow them away! That’s how a Dragon Slayer fights! That’s how a Fairy Tail Wizard fights!” She stared up at him with huge eyes, shining with admiration, and flushed cheeks.

He grinned.

“So?! Get up! Always get back up, Nashi! I’m not asking the impossible of you–you can do this! I know you can!”

“I–I will!” she scrambled to her feet, fists blazing with gold heat as she lunged for him. “I’ll always get back up! No matter what, I’ll–”

His chest seized. He clenched his jaw, knowing he needed to make himself keep walking, but unable to do it. Even as people churned around him, trying to push past him, he found himself shoving them off, refusing to move from exactly where he was. One foot planted in front of the other. Half-hovering. Eyes still closed.

Whatever just happened had quieted the crowd, an anticipatory sort of silence that made him clench his fists, eyes still closed.

And then, Natsu’s world flipped upside down:

“You didn’t even bother to study my previous fights, did you?” Her growl carried across the hushed crowd. “Tch, typical…if you had, you’d know: You’d know I always get back up!”

His eyes flew open.

He whirled back around and watched, wide-eyed and world rocking, as the pink haired girl rose. Rolled her shoulders against her ears, one at a time. The grin was gone, a heavy, intimidating scowl having taken its place as she recovered, getting her feet back underneath herself, her stance back in place. Her nose was wrinkled in fury. Her eyes burned.

Natsu’s lips parted on a gasp as he stared.

Mad Cow scoffed, hunched and rubbing his chin with a hand like a mitt. Natsu guessed that This Nashi must’ve caught him there–probably with a kick, given the size difference. That must have been what made the crowd react with shock. They were recovering now, though, getting louder.

“And why the fuck would I bother to do that?!” Mad Cow shouted, dropping his hand. “I don’t need to! Every guy you’ve faced could’ve beaten you easily if they’d quit acting like even more of a little bitch than you! You shouldn’t fucking be here anyway…fucking birds, knowing dudes will take it easy on you so you can take advantage of it and collect the reward…well I’M NOT ONE OF THEM!” He roared the last part. The bitter fury in his voice was a kind Natsu was familiar with.

“Studying what you can find of your opponent’s fighting style–that’s basic! And you wanna sit here and bitch about how I don’t deserve to be here, you lumpy-headed fuck?! ”

“The FUCK you just call me?!” McCow snarled back.

“YOU HEARD ME, SHITWIT!”

“THAT’S IT!” the man shouted. “I’ve had it! I was gonna take it easy on you, but–”

“THAT’S MY LINE!”

It seemed that was both their limit.

They flew at each other. But now, everything was different, and Natsu doubted that anyone without a trained eye and fighting experience like him could recognize it.

Apparently, the commentator was one such person: “THIS IS–THIS IS INCREDIBLE!” the voice boomed, full of disbelief, as the girl caught the fist rocketing towards her face with a hard elbow, making Mad Cow let out a roar of pain. She kicked away an arm flying towards her head, and launched a sidekick at his now-uncovered stomach–one that landed hard. She built on the damage, bearing down on him as he stumbled backwards, tripping over his own heels. A right roundhouse followed by a left to his head. Despite the fact he was obviously disorientated, he caught the first one– blocked it and tried, unsuccessfully to catch her foot–but not the second, which cracked into his ear and made him stagger, her chasing him and hammering him with surprisingly powerful blows. Each one of her hits accumulated speed and strength.

The commentator picked up again, saying something or other about “striking machines”, but Natsu didn’t hear. His eyes were wide, now, and glued to the girl cracking her shin into her opponent’s nose, teeth bared. The expression on her face…the fire in her eyes…the speed of her hits…her fighting style…it was like he’d begun watching the fight currently happening through one eye and a stream of memories through the other, his breath going still in his lungs–

“–No matter what, I’ll always get back up!” screamed the little girl, running forward and hammering him with fiery strikes, kicks, and even elbows. They’d only just started elbow work. Natsu staggered back with each good combo she landed. He put in the effort to make it look convincing, pride swelling within his chest.

“That’s it! Build on it! Faster…harder! C’mon!”

This Nashi slipped underneath and into one of Mad Cow’s big overhand hooks, the corrected trajectory of his fist barely skidding over her shoulder as her right fist tore up, slamming into his chin. Even as his eyes rolled and he staggered backwards, her expression was so mutinous it was almost funny.

But as good as the uppercut was, it turned out to be a set-up:

“LOOK AT THIS COMBO…CROSS, HOOK–WHOA! AN ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING LEG KICK! CLASSIC MUAY THAI-INSPIRED COMBO FROM TURNING–”

“FUCKING BITCH–!” Mad Cow roared, but his opponent cut him off with a voice like thunder.

“I’M THE BADDEST BITCH YOU’VE EVER MET!”

“I’LL ALWAYS GET BACK UP! I WILL! I’M GONNA BE A GREAT DRAGON SLAYER, JUST LIKE YOU! NO–I’LL EVEN BEAT YOU, ONE DAY!” Nashi took a deep breath, and Natsu grinned, allowing the pause in the fight, because he knew what was coming. The catchphrase both like his and not. Inspired by him, but all her own.

Her fists blazed brighter than ever. The sun illuminated her grin.“JUST WATCH ME, DADDY! DON’T EVEN BLINK! BECAUSE I’VE–”

“–GOT A FIRE IN ME THAT YOU’LL NEVER PUT OUT!”

Mad Cow’s eyes were wild with fear as he desperately swung for another, big lead cross–one which spelled his downfall. The Dragoness leapt off her left leg–her back leg. Her right shin cracked into his already dipping head.

He fell forward and bounced off the mat, limp as a ragdoll, while the audience screamed all around him.

Even as the giant fell still, she made for his prone form, fist raised, but didn’t fight at all when the black-collared man appeared seemingly from nowhere, grabbed her around the waist, and practically threw her away. Instead, This Nashi– The Nashi skipped backwards, smirking, and raised a wrapped fist.

And that was the realization which thundered through Natsu, now gaping up at the victorious, pink-haired fighter stalking towards the edge of the cage: not This Nashi. The Nashi.

After seven, grief-filled years, Natsu Dragneel was absolutely sure he had just found his daughter.

*1. Yes, there will be quotes from the original series (the anime dub, sub, or the manga depending on whichever version I like best) at the beginning of each chapter. HOWEVER. The quotes are not spoilers and are often only tangentially related to my plotline. The one for this chapter, for instance, is specifically about Edolas, but is not actually true of the world where Natsu has landed.

*2. Yes, I know the canon Edolas Nalu child is “Nasha.” I decided on “Nashi”, instead, for reasons which will be explained later.

*3. Sorry in advance, but I pretty much kept what little I remembered/liked from 100YQ and ditched everything I didn’t. Same with the original story, but way more with 100YQ. Idk what it is but even though I’ve read the whole thing, 100YQ has this unique quality where a lot of what happens slips straight out of my mind as soon as I’ve read it. In one eye, out the other. So you’ll just have to roll with me, sorry.

*4. Real-life inspiration for Layla (/Nashi) comes mostly from Ronda Rousey, whose biography I read and happen to have on hand, along with Kaoklai Kaennorsing (especially his fighting style). Those are the two main ones. If you’ve read My Fight, Your Fight, you’ll understand how Layla (/Nashi’s) personality is inspired by her–especially as you go on. I highly recommend looking up the Thai kickboxer/Muay Thai fighter Kaoklai Kaennorsing. He has been called the Giant-Slayer because he did, in fact, defeat opponents who had over 100 pounds on him. Watching his fights is just an incredible experience. Other inspirations include Rose Namajunas, Connor McGregor, and some others. There are also several fictional inspirations including and outside Fairy Tail which I won’t bore you with (some of them I’m sure fellow anime fans will be able to guess lol).

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nashi dragneel #nasha dragneel #gruvia #gajevy #jerza #fan fiction #fanfiction #2nd gen #post-canon #if this is wonky i'll fix it tomorrow. too tired now.#nalu fic

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mcclintcock · 1 month

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snippet of an old man yaoi, figured id post the snippet bc i'll never post the whole thing probably, kent got smacked in the face by a biker gang dude and ben is not happy about this, also kent is autism,,, i fucking hate writing cisgender old men idk what they say or do or anything

Ben knocked on Kent’s door. Kent was typing furiously on his computer, but stopped and tilted his head towards the ground when he registered Ben’s presence. “Kent? Selina really wants some predictions for California.”

“I am aware,” Kent replied.

“Kent, that was the neurotypical way to ask ‘When will you be done with the predictions?’”

“Oh, uh… tomorrow morning?”

“Then what have you been doing in your office all day?” Ben asked, his smile becoming more stiff.

“Working.”

“On what?”

“The predictions for the West Coast.”

"Well, prioritize California. And make eye contact with me, Kent.” Kent had a bad habit of making excuses to look at anything except the person he was talking to, which often made him look shifty and uninterested.

“I thought I only had to do that in front of people.”

“I am people.” Ben waited for Kent’s acknowledgement, which didn't come. “Look at me!”

Kent raised his head to make eye contact. As he did, he awkwardly scratched his forehead with his right hand. His palm perfectly covered his right eye.

“Why are you doing that? Just put your hand down, I can only see half your face.”

"My face is exceptionally regular today, I am sure you can imagine the rest yourself."

"Kent..."

"What?"

“Move your hand.”

“Why?”

“Why won't you?”

“My forehead is very itchy.”

Ben grabbed Kent’s wrist and tried to pull it away, but ended up pushing the heel of Kent’s hand into his eye. Kent yelped and instinctually kicked Ben in the shin, pushing Ben away and now clutching both hands to his eye.

“Sorry, man. But I think you'll live.” Ben paused, staring at Kent while he recovered from the gouge. “You're a big boy, it can't hurt that bad.”

“It is actually quite painful,” Kent replied quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Ben muttered in an uncharacteristic show of empathy. “Can I at least look at it…?” he added after a few moments.

Kent slowly and begrudgingly brought his hand back down to his desk, revealing a wicked black eye. “I’m an unofficial mediator of sorts in my club. Hernandez was messing with Rocco, and, uh, I had to step in,” Kent explained, doing his best to look Ben in the eye.

Ben dragged his palms down his face. “Kent… you need to get a new hobby. I don't like you hanging around those guys. Can you even see through that shiner?” he asked, bending down and squinting at Kent’s eye.

"I can see perfectly fine. Things like this happen very occasionally, it's no worse than the liver damage you accumulate from your drinking.”

“Drinking isn't a hobby, Kent. My hobbies are masturbating and watching TV, I’m just drunk while I do them. Being in a gang isn’t meant to be a hobby. The only reason to be in a gang is if you need to be for money or something, and you make good money here. ”

#writing ben is the bane of my existence #veeposting

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swamplevel · 5 months

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It's extremely interesting to see how Hakuno and Caster's characters are developed through out the EXTRA games as opposed to literally any other piece of media they appear in, especially Caster.

To be begrudgingly fair to FGO, it's difficult to write for her in that game, given that her character arc is already somewhat finished and you'd have to keep the original writer's wishes in mind. However, it seems like they really focused in on making her keep up the Good Wife bit at all costs as opposed to that being a mask for her self-doubt and sincere belief in being an unlovable woman. The FGO protagonist isn't really allowed to respond to her advances, so she comes off as a totally vapid character who exists to get into fights with Kiyohime.

In Extra, Hakuno and Caster have an almost comedic routine to them, where Hakuno clocks what Caster is about almost immediately, and Caster somewhat ineffectively has to keep doing her good wife bit...until she starts being a bit more sincere with it about halfway through both games. Hakuno's willingness and ability to acknowledge who she is, what she'd done, and her beliefs at face value make her able to have a more normal relationship with Caster, and this in turn leads to more natural romantic advances.

I dunno. This is a bit of long form dunk on the way FGO is set up, but it's pleasing to remember that these characters are Good, Actually, they've just had to be bastardized to fit into gacha holes.

#fate extra/ccc read #fate tag

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goldcrown20 · 2 years

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Written for @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: Blooming. One of these days I’ll actually write a microfic (key word micro). Tw: light mention of grief, depression, low self esteem. But nothing too heavy.

A scene from an AU where Sirius commissions a wizarding artist to decorate his godson’s room.

Sirius tried not to hover. Going up to the second floor to “pick up a few things” was a perfectly reasonable activity. It certainly wasn’t a terrible excuse to peek into his godson’s new room and check on the unfortunately attractive painter he had hired.

Remus Lupin. His status as a werewolf was well known among the wizarding community, but there wasn’t a better artist out there. Even the most prejudiced of wixen families had begrudgingly hired Lupin so they could show off the breathtakingly beautiful paintings adorning their children’s walls.

If Sirius had to hear one more piece of gossip about the roaring dragons on the little Malfoy’s walls, he would spontaneously self combust. To prevent this, he had finally asked his assistant to arrange for Lupin to paint Harry’s walls. He’d be damned if his little Prongslet missed out on anything, regardless of what Molly Weasley said about spoiling him. They had both already lost too much, to not have this glimpse of happiness. The poor baby already had trouble sleeping in his room, preferring to climb in with Sirius every night. But as much as Sirius loved to cuddle with his godson to soothe his own nightmares of the war, he knew Harry needed to start sleeping in his own room. He hoped that soothing wall illustrations would ease the transition.

But he didn’t know what to expect from Lupin. What if he wasn’t as good as they said? He already had reservations about anything Narcissa and Lucius held in high regard. The dragon painting was probably horrendously gaudy. It would certainly match their personalities then. Sirius snorted thinking about the pretentiousness of the peacocks wandering around the Malfoy property.

With that thought, Sirius drew himself to his full height and knocked on his godson’s door. Receiving no answer, he slowly pushed it to see Lupin calmly sketching indecipherable smudges on the wall. Sirius frowned, wondering how on earth anyone saw artistic values in the strange lines the curly haired man had drawn. A sudden surge of self disgust rose within him. Here he was, a rotten godfather, who couldn’t even commission a proper painting for his godson. What had James and Lily been thinking, appointing him?

Still receiving no acknowledgement of his presence, Sirius felt decidedly annoyed. He slightly coughed, and then cringed internally. This is what has happened to you after spending so much time arguing with Umbridge in court, he thought to himself.

Lupin turned and gave him a wry smile. “Lord Black, my apologies.”

“No worries. Is there anything you need? Tea, water?” Sirius really needed a new excuse to come back in twenty minutes. There were only so many things he could “forget” to pick up from the attic.

“No thank you,” Remus turned to face him fully now, giving him an amused look. He probably knew exactly what Sirius was up to, Sirius griped internally. It wasn’t his fault those amber eyes practically saw through him.

“Actually there is something you can help me with. On the note your assistant passed on, she said you would like a Quidditch scene as well as a garden. Do you have any specific requests for the plants?”

Lost in the curious amber eyes that gazed back at him, Sirius took a little longer to process the question.

“Lilies,” he blurted. “And then lotus, jasmine, hibiscus. The rest can be typical magical plants that would be found in India.”

Remus paused before answering. He set his paintbrush down to brush a golden curl out of his eyes, revealing more of a long silver scar running down his jaw into his shirt collar. Sirius had the sudden wild desire to kiss it all the way down to its end.

“That sounds lovely,” replied Remus softly.

The combination of realizing his attraction to Lupin as well as the topic of the flowers made it difficult for Sirius to get his words out. He quickly nodded, and moved his gaze down at Remus’s art palette.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he choked out. He had turned to leave when he heard Remus’s voice.

“I don’t mind an audience, Lord Black,” said the artist mildly. “You can stay and watch if that’s what you prefer.”

Flushing, Sirius nodded and took a seat on the charmed rocking chair in the corner of the room. Remus watched him get settled, gave him another amused look, and turned back to the wall to return to his work.

Sirius soon found himself entranced in the artist’s confident and smooth movements. Within the hour, he could do nothing but gape at how strangely placed lines became outlines of lotus and lily flowers blooming in ponds, Quidditch players on broomsticks, and two mischevious looking Gryffindors exploring a forest.

After a few quiet hours, Remus broke the silence.

“May I ask the significance of the flowers, Lord Black?”

Sirius swallowed before responding. “My godson’s mother and grandmother. They had beautiful gardens and loved tending to them. I want him to go to sleep surrounded by their love.”

Remus’s gaze turned softer, yet without the usual pity that Sirius hated seeing in other people.

“That’s beautiful. I will do everything I can to capture your vision,” he replied. He reached out to touch Sirius’s arm, lighting a fire of desire inside the wizard.

Sirius felt the sudden urge to hug Lupin, or even better to snog his face off. And then late at night, confide all of his secrets, his desires, his worst fears to the man.

“Could I?” blurted Sirius, motioning to the space next to Remus’s stool. Remus looked surprised, but in the next moment smiled so brilliantly that Sirius almost cried at his sheer beauty.

“Please do.” As Remus returned to his work, Sirius continued to watch him paint with rapt attention, stealing looks to admire the way Remus’s face contorted into a slight frown when he perfected a tiny detail, or how his features turned relaxed and peaceful as he lost himself in the painting. Sometimes, Sirius swore he could feel the artist stealing looks at him as well.

A few years later, Sirius sat in the same position, admiring the blooming lotus flower in the painted pond. As his eyes moved toward the edge of the water to take in a miniature black haired man, a curly haired artist, and a messy haired little boy picnicking joyfully, he couldn’t help but feel that everything was going to be alright.

#wolfstar raising harry #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #remus x sirius #wolfstar au #agatha writes wolfstar

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apersonwholikeslotus · 1 year

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What about Jack and Alfred's relationship? Also, I really like your account :D

OKAY BUT LIKE; Jack was obviously born after Alfred had left. He was William's rebound kid like "oh well! Guess that one didn't work out might as well have another!" but like, a lot more bitter than I can sound through text. Y'know and then Will proceeded to not raise said rebound kid.

That's where Jack's resentment to Alfred starts. Because 'I only exist cause he isn't here'; then there is the William constantly praising Alfred despite acting like he hates him. So then poor Jack is even more confused because??? Do you want me to be nothing like him, or do you want me to be just like him??? or?????

Meanwhile; on the other side of the ocean Alfred is only vaguely aware of Jack's existence, like they don't have a relationship and any semblance of something Jack thinks is a relationship is one-sided on his part.

anyway, their relationship finally starts when Alfred sends Jack (who's probably like 8 btp) a Christmas present. Like out of nowhere, and Matt or Dylan or idk who is like "You need to send him a thank you letter". Jack proceeds to take two months to write this thing because friends, I've never spoken to him before. But eventually its sent. and Alfred decides instead of just letting it be? to send one back? and for like a solid year all of these letters are just 'thank you' 'it's not problem' 'well you took the time to send it' 'it really didn't take that much of an effort I'm just happy you like it' cause neither of them know what to say to each other?????

it takes awhile but eventually they get to other topics, just random things here and there. The letters are consistent but they are something; Jack goes from not liking/being indifferent about Al, to idk, thinking he's pretty cool? Like? He told dad to fuck off and got away with it??? what???? Alfred starts to think Jack is pretty cool too, like bro this kid is possibly the most metal ten yr old known to man?? And he gives dear ol' dad 2.3 heart attacks a day, which is super funny to Al. All good things must come to an end though, and at some point the letter pitter out. I'm thinking like sometime during the Spanish-American war, cause Al came out a super power and in a dick move promptly forgot about little old Jack. It was a two sided thing though, Jack became self-governing and Lord Father wasn't happy about it and basically kicked him out at the age of 13-ish; so he had bigger things to worry about.

Alfred showed back up during WW1 but not really long enough for them to do anything but acknowledge each other before Alfred was back to being an introvert.

WW2 rolls around, the US joins the war and Alfred shows up (begrudgingly) to help Jack and Liam, who are in my hc about 16 and 12. England was very worried about them. Now, Jack is angry about stuff, and he's so worried about keeping Liam safe, and I haven't talked to Mattie or dad or uncle Dylan or Uncle Angus in weeks are they okay???? So despite the fact that for at the very least a few months they're together 24/7 they don't really bond; Jack is stuck between "I need to protect Liam" and "I don't know what I'm doing, I can't protect myself much less someone else" that he just ends up being mad and stubborn while Alfred who's instincts have already added these two children to his Protect At All Costs list is just confused because??? I'm just trying to keep you two safe why do you hate me???

eventually the war ends (thank god); now Liam during the war just added Alfred to his list of People To Cling To Randomly. Alfred was at the bottom of the list albeit, but he was on it. Jack however just got wary of Alfred. He was trustworthy sure, but, this whole thing was technically his first impression of Alfred. and in the middle of a war is not the best time to get a first impression.

by the time the mid-fifties rolled around Alfred in-between stare offs with Ivan decided it was time to actually spend time with his younger two siblings. and this my friends, is when Alfred and Jack finally became the crackhead duo they are; it's not perfect it's really not. But they do get along pretty well, they get in the stupidest arguments like how to make the best pb&j or who Matthieu likes more. Jack rambles about animals for 45 min straight while Alfred listens intently then Alfred rambles about space for 45 min straight while Jack listens intently. It's the only time either of them can sit still that long. combined they give dear ol' dad 4.6 heart attacks a day. There will always be the age gap obviously, and there'll always be the over-arching problem of William and his favoritism. but idk, I think they'll be ok.

#this is so long #and very possibly not coherent #but here we go #aph australia #hws australia #aph america #hws america #hetalia #hetalia hc #anglo-family #the crackiest heads #also thank you!!!#I'm so glad you do

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geometropolis · 1 year

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grt3D episode 3: sucker ball

sweep, sweep, sweep... dust, dust, dust... pace, pace, pace.

“i think this is good enough...” heart sighed in exhaustion and flumped onto one of the chairs by the window. he had just been cleaning his team’s cabin for the fifty-billionth time that night, and it finally seemed tidy enough for him.

for a while, heart just sat there and thought; to document everything he was thinking of would be hard, given how busy his mind tended to be.

a knock on the door shook heart from his thoughts rather violently - he started and fell out of the chair, with a yelp of “d-diamonds and spades! what was that?”

another knock answered his question, and heart exhaled slowly. he approached the door and opened it, to see a very tired-looking trapezoid.

“hey, heart, if you’re done with the–” he yawned. “if you’re done with the cleaning supplies, is it okay if i take them back for now? if you ever need them again, you can just ask, of course.”

heart stepped back and let him in. “o-oh, oh yeah, sure!” he started by grabbing the broom and dustpan leaning near the table and handing them to trapezoid.

“thanks bud. y’know, i’m surprised no one else has asked me for them.” trapezoid also picked up the bottle of window cleaner that was near the door.

“oh?”

“yeah... these cabins aren’t the best, you’d imagine everyone would want to tidy them up.”

heart chuckled. “yeah... i don’t get how anyone could live anywhere so disorganized. and dusty.”

“i know, right? that’s the one thing me and octagon can agree upon.”

heart smiled. trapezoid patted him on the shoulder. “you’re a good kid, heart,” he said at length. “look out for your teammates, ‘kay?”

trapezoid soon departed, and heart sighed happily. he turned around to face his sleeping teammates, to find star glaring right at him.

…

origin was flying back and forth, much to the annoyance of möbius strip.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” he asked.

origin turned to show some papers and a pencil. “i’m writing the contestants personalized invitations to wake up, like you suggested yesterday. see, i made kite’s invitation a poem, because she told me she likes–”

“DID YOU MAKE ME AN INVITATION?”

origin broke out in cold sweat. “n-no, i–”

“GOOD. NOW DELIVER THOSE SOON, MAILMAN! I WANT TO START THINGS BRIGHT AND EARLY.”

möbius turned and flew off.

soon enough, origin finished his invitations and placed them by the door of each cabin, knocking on the door with a manifested hand as he did so. afterwards, he flew north and flashed into the paradox again.

möbius strip arrived to the field to see his 15 contestants arranged in it; but no origin.

“TWINKY-DINK! WHERE DID YOU GO?”

unfortunately, despite all of his yelling, there wasn’t actually anything möbius could do to bring origin back from where he obviously was - the paradox. in his frustration, möbius strip grumbled for approximately 5 minutes.

“i’m bored,” pentagon said after a while, frowning. “what are we doing?”

möbius coughed. “WE’RE WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO GET BACK, SOMEONE WHOM WE NEED TO START THE CHALLENGE.”

after a moment, square asked rectangle, “why do we need to do the challenge so early, anyway? can’t we just do something else until twinkle gets back?” rectangle thought this was a good question to ask möbius himself, and suggested such to his brother.

square begrudgingly repeated the question, marginally louder than the first time.

“well, i want to do it now,” triangle challenged, before möbius could answer. “i don’t wanna have to wait to do a challenge.”

“but this early? we’re all tired,” square sighed.

“speak for yourself.”

“HOW ABOUT DON’T SPEAK AT ALL?” möbius strip retorted. “WE HAVE TO DO IT NOW BECAUSE I’M ALWAYS BUSY IN THE AFTERNOON.”

“tcch, with what?” triangle asked.

möbius didn’t reply. the group proceeded to sit around until origin returned.

“do you really think so?” kite mused to parallelogram. “i mean, i suppose it does go on a case-by-case basis, but surely the possibility of it happening at all should be acknowledged...”

“well sure, but it’s not like that whole genre should be taken off of the market just because of the possibility of someone replicating the actions of people in the game. that’d be kinda stupid, to be honest.”

“yeah, yeah, i agree, but again it really depends. most people will know the actions of those characters are wrong, and so will refrain from taking up after them, but in some cases it’s vague enough that people could find its presence in the game to be justification for doing it in real life.”

“absolutely. and those people should just get help, is what i say. oh yeah, and if the game frames those actions as being good, then that’s definitely subject to criticism. that’s what could contribute to the vagueness you’re talking about.”

“of course.”

“will they not just shut up?” octagon groaned, peering at kite.

hexagon patted her shoulder. “don’t worry, i think they’re done for now.”

a moment passed.

“did you ever come up with a good answer to the trolley problem?”

octagon facepalmed.

meanwhile, heart was playing patty-cake with droplet.

“why don’t you play patty-cake with me, heart?” star nudged him.

heart blinked. “...i didn’t know you liked playing patty-cake.”

“really? cuz i always have...”

heart furrowed his brow.

another half hour passed before origin finally reappeared. he seemed to have some kind of ...camera lens in his center.

“THANK THE PRIMES YOU DECIDED TO GRACE OUR HUMBLE PRESENCE,” möbius snapped. “I’M HONORED YOU DECIDED TO SHOW UP.”

origin sighed. “sorry, möbius strip... i was busy setting something up.”

“AND APPARENTLY THAT WASN’T THE GOALS FOR TODAY’S CHALLENGE. LET’S GET GOING.”

the two moved over to a different part of the field.

“OKAY, TWINKIE, SOCCER GOALS.”

origin moved back a bit. “...sorry, sir, i can’t do that right now...”

“OH, CUZ OF YOUR DUMB CAMERA. CAN’T YOU PUT IT AWAY FOR NOW? WE NEED THE GOALS.”

“...sorry, not now.”

“THEN WHAT? WE CAN’T PLAY SOCCER WITHOUT SOCCER GOALS.”

“...could we use something else?”

“LIKE WHAT?”

origin thought for a second, then went over to whisper his idea to möbius strip.

“don’t see why you needed to whisper that, but okay,” möbius conceded. “HELLO, CONTESTANTS! COME HITHER, IF YOU MAY,” he called.

the 15 shapes came over to the two of them.

“NOW: HELVETICA, GO TO ONE SIDE OF THE FIELD, WITH A SPACE IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR LITTLE GROUP, THERE YOU GO, AND COOL KIDS, DO THE SAME ON THE OTHER SIDE.”

they did such, even if they didn’t know why. pentagon and trapezoid stood together with a little gap between them and the other two, octagon and hexagon; star and heart were apart from droplet and rhombus.

“NOW, GROUP TWO AND YIM YUM, GO ON OPPOSITE SIDES OF THE FIELD. THE OTHER TWO TEAMS WILL ACT AS THE GOALS, THE BALL KICKED BETWEEN THEM. IT’S SOCCER TIME. NO GOALIES. 7 MINUTES PER ROUND.”

“but wait!” kite interjected. “our team only has three members. will it really be fair for us to go up against the other four-membered teams?”

triangle scoffed. “well, you’re tall, surely that counts for something.”

“not really, no,” parallelogram answered sharply. “i think any team opposing us should have a player sit out.”

möbius thought for a second. “SURE, WHATEVER.”

“then square, buddy,” triangle nudged him. “have a nice nap.”

he gave her a thumbs up and flopped down away from the game.

“guess i’ll just have to play harder, then,” triangle rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

“now go!” origin rolled the ball over to yim yum’s side, before moving to spectate just north of the game.

kite ran north to kick the ball, but missed. triangle ran and kicked it south, towards heptagon. when he didn’t even try to move, parallelogram had to run and intercept it before it could enter the goal.

“nice save, parry!” kite smiled, dribbling it towards the other side. she booted it towards the goal.

parallelogram simply frowned at heptagon.

“it’s comin’ in hot! i got this one, folks!” triangle punted the ball sharply, sending it flying back towards the other team.

“y’think we can double team it?” kite quickly asked parallelogram.

“we can try,” he grunted, kicking the ball north to her before she struck it and sent it barreling towards the other side. “but it’d be nice if we could pull a triple...” he raised an eyebrow at heptagon, who was still standing there motionless.

“i got it, i got it!” rectangle called, running over to get the ball. it was intercepted, however, by triangle.

“your kick would’ve been too weak. your foot was at the wrong angle…” triangle dribbled and kicked it hard. “and that, tango, is how you kick a ball.”

as it went rushing across, rectangle blinked in surprise. “oh... okay.”

“c’mon, heptagon!” kite nudged him. “we believe in you!”

the ball simply passed him and scored a goal for group two.

“oh, come on!” parallelogram groaned.

“that’s a point for group two! you got a minute left, folks.”

“we gotta get another point. i’ll handle this one, boys,” triangle snapped her fingers as the ball was rolled to her. she ran with it towards yim yum’s side before her teammates could reply.

“we should give heptagon another try!” kite suggested.

parallelogram disagreed. “we can’t count on him. doing that will win triangle another point.” he shuffled around the goal.

“no babysitting!” triangle exclaimed.

circle frowned as triangle continued to steal every shot. rectangle kept smiling in anticipation as the ball came towards him, but unfortunately, he never got the chance to kick it.

at the end of the round, group two won, 5 to 2.

“in your vertex!” triangle laughed triumphantly. “we did great, guys. i just know we’ll win this.”

“OKAY, THAT’S ONE WIN FOR GROUP TWO AND ONE LOSS FOR YIM YUM,” möbius announced absentmindedly. “NOW THE COOL KIDS AND HELVETICA ARE UP. THE OTHER TWO TEAMS, BE THE NET.”

as group two went over to be a goal, square looked to rectangle. “you had fun?”

“oh, um... i didn’t get too many chances to kick the ball...”

“i see...”

“b-but it’s fine! we won.”

“oh really?”

square glared at triangle, but she didn’t seem bothered at all, and proceeded to watch the other teams play.

“heart, work with me!” star called. “we can do... what did they call it? ‘double team’?”

“oh um, if you want...” heart kicked the ball to star tentatively, who swung his leg up with great force. he closed his eyes and smiled proudly.

“i know, i know, you’re in awe, but please, let’s continue the game.”

heart’s eyes were wide, but not in awe; star had completely missed the ball, which was still by his feet. heart opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, simply glaring at his best friend.

the round proceeded with fervor; hexagon and pentagon had apparently come up with a clever strategy in which hexagon would gently kick pentagon forwards, so pentagon could kick the ball into the goal with increased velocity.

these ‘five-and-a-halfers’ were hard to fight against, considering how none of the cool kids were particularly athletically inclined. rhombus did manage to score a few points by strategically removing and replacing people’s limbs, which technically wasn’t prohibited in the game rules.

droplet came up with many fantastical strategies of her own, which heart tried to accomplish, but unfortunately, those such as the ‘magical rainbow flyer’ never came to fruition. likewise, octagon’s attempts to calculate where the ball would end up came back to bite her – all of these other strategies and missteps made this round extremely unpredictable, and her time calculating was in vain.

trapezoid was there for moral support. also for arguing.

in the end, the teams tied at 5 points each, counting as a win for both.

rounds came and went; all four teams had something up their sleeves, whether that be impeccable agility, genius strategy, or simply access to a limb remote.

the next game was helvetica vs. group two; at this point, helvetica’s ‘five-and-a-halfers’ made them feared on the field. octagon and trapezoid might argue about where the both of them thought the ball would end up, but one of them was always right, meaning that hexagon and pentagon almost always hit it. and their soccer balls were like meteorites.

on the other side was triangle, however, and she wasn’t to be messed with either. she went fast and she went hard; she was ruthless. no ball could escape her ‘pythagorean fear-em’. when balls came, she hit them; and when square persistently reprimanded her for taking over the team, she ignored him. nothing could stop her.

those in the goals chattered in anticipation for the fabled match between two legends – a strategical mastermind and a brute-strength behemoth. nobody knew who was going to win.

when the ball was rolled, it began. hexagon instantly kicked it up north to pentagon, who dribbled it over to the other side. circle shuffled over to intercept it, but triangle swept in and booted it.

“really, triangle?” square sighed. “now’s not the time to be cocky.”

“i’m not being cocky. i’m just playin’. go hard or go home, that’s what i always say.”

“then maybe you should stop talking...” square said under his breath.

pentagon came back with the ball, and rectangle was preparing to kick it from her – but here was triangle, rolling it away with the flick of her foot. “you gotta be faster than that!”

after pentagon passed her the ball, hexagon began to bounce it on her knee. “it’s as if we’re playing against one person!”

octagon looked up at her. “you thinking what i’m thinking?”

hexagon smiled. octagon glanced over to the northern part of group two’s field, in the back, and subtly nodded to hexagon. pentagon ran over to that empty spot, and hexagon swiftly kicked the ball towards her.

“move move move!” triangle tried to shove her way through her teammates. instead, square, who was only a little ways away, casually kicked the ball south, out of pentagon’s reach.

“what was that for?” triangle glared at him, sending the ball back over. “why didn’t you move? you could’ve missed!”

“so could you.”

“but i’ve won us so many games!”

“not all of them.”

“those were exceptions!”

“man, they were able to hit it after all,” trapezoid bit his lip as pentagon sidled back to their side. “at least square was. i think we should hit near the other back corner.”

“no way!” octagon shook her head. “near the front is the way to go. circle and rectangle haven’t kicked the ball the entire game!”

“true...”

“okey dokey!” pentagon chirped, being flung north by hexagon, up to the ball. “get pent!”

she kicked it into the front, where it landed right on circle’s head.

“what do i do, what do i do?” rectangle cried, shuffling around him. triangle and square were too busy arguing to notice.

“hey, guys!” circle ran towards his two fighting friends, and the ball flew off of his head. as it fell, rectangle swiped his foot underneath to kick it. and while he got a good start, there was no one to back him up – and hexagon intercepted it with a mighty drive, getting an easy goal.

“ow!” star exclaimed as the ball hit him in the face.

“a point for helvetica!” origin announced. he could’ve made a comment on group two’s rough shape, but decided against it.

as the ball was rolled to helvetica’s side, triangle pushed her way towards it.

“get out of the way, square,” she snapped. “your brother can’t even kick a soccer ball straight.”

“maybe if you bothered to let him play, he’d know how to by now.”

“guys! the game!” circle called out. “let’s have fun, okay?”

the game continued, helvetica scoring point after point. triangle got a few in, but half of the time she was stifled by a bothered square who didn’t want her to play if it meant she’d take over again.

“one minute remaining, folks,” origin edged back from the ruckus.

“oh yeah?” triangle yelled. “i’ll show you a minute!”

she then proceeded to shove square to the side and hit the ball towards hexagon’s face.

“whoa!” hexagon jumped out of the way, which sent pentagon, who was standing over her head, flying forward.

fortunately for the two of them, however, trapezoid kicked it through to pentagon, who, while flying forwards, was able to kick the ball into the goal behind triangle.

“what the hex!” hexagon smiled. “how did we do that?”

pentagon returned to her and stuck out her tongue. “dunno. but that’s a ‘five-and-two-thirds’, to be sure.”

“and that’s game!” origin announced. “helvetica wins with 7 to 4! great job!”

“for prime’s sake!” triangle cried. “okay, you wanna play soccer? fine! then i won’t do anything next round.”

“...we’re not up next round...” rectangle said.

“you see how this team works without a triangle! the strongest shape!”

“not the strongest in strategy, though,” square said nonchalantly, heading over to the other side of the field. “that completely failed.”

“oh shut it! at least i did something!”

he didn’t dignify her with a response.

circle frowned as triangle stormed off. he wanted to talk to her, but he knew nothing he said would help.

“hey, rectangle?” he called.

rectangle turned to him from where he stood. “yeah?”

“can you try and talk to triangle?”

he pointed to himself, surprised, “m-me?”

“you two are so close! i’m sure she’ll listen to you.”

“oh, but, i’ve got to be part of the goal...”

circle started pushing him from behind. “c’mon, buddy! it’s now or never.” rectangle acquiesced and went after triangle.

the round between helvetica and yim yum was taking place – much more quietly than the previous one – and kite and parallelogram were finding it hard to fight. hexagon was sitting out, sure – but trapezoid was acting as pentagon’s support now, and he wasn’t too bad himself.

“we gotta step up our game!” parallelogram wiped sweat off of his brow. the opposing team had already scored a point. he kicked the ball north to kite.

“i know!” kite panted, sending it back. “i think–”

“i know what you think, kite,” he smiled at her. “and yes, it’d be nice if heptagon would be a ‘helptagon’ instead. but we can’t rely on it.” he passed her the ball around star.

“okay, yeah.”

“and i doubt talking about him in the third person will do any good in convincing him.”

kite scored a goal, avoiding heart and rhombus. “good point.”

parallelogram and kite worked surprisingly well as a pair; kite could cover the ball up north, parallelogram could cover the ball down south, and both were relatively fast, so as long as they knew where the ball was headed, they got just about everything covered.

unfortunately for them, they often didn’t – pentagon had a new schtick with trapezoid, called ‘pentamonium’. in this move, the two of them would create such a scuffle with legs and jumping and balls and blades of grass that you couldn’t possibly tell where the soccer ball was unless you were staring right at it.

some of the time, they did happen to spot the ball; most of the time, they didn’t, landing helvetica an easy goal. kite and parallelogram could manage for the most part, but without backup, it was hard to truly cover the field.

“i wish octagon weren’t so good at calculating where the ball’s headed,” parallelogram noted. “it makes it so hard to get anything through.”

“true,” kite reciprocated. “but as trapezoid’s working with pentagon now, he can’t work to fix her mistakes. so her guess isn’t guaranteed to be accurate.”

“what does that leave us?”

“half of the time? we’re fine. the other half? pentamonium. easy point for them.”

“so how do we make it harder for octagon to track us? i’m not good at strategy.”

the two kept kicking until a voice called from behind.

“maybe if you stop being so predictable, octagon wouldn’t be able to predict where the ball’s headed.”

heptagon was staring tiredly at them.

“oh? what should we do?” parallelogram called back.

no response was given.

“think, think, think, parry! what to do...?”

and suddenly, he had an idea. “aha! let’s keep switching places, back and forth!” he whispered.

kite and parallelogram switched places on the field, and again, and again, and again! they became a blur as they ran north to south and back again, their legs a flurry of movement.

“huh?” octagon gasped. “what’s going on?”

and suddenly the ball hit her in the face.

now it was confusion vs. confusion. points were scored all over the place, because the teams could barely see where the ball was or where it was going. but in the time that helvetica was still getting used to the bizarre new playing field, yim yum was able to catch up.

meanwhile, while chaos was reigning free on the field, rectangle was catching up with triangle.

“h-hey, triangle!” he called.

she stopped abruptly, causing rectangle to bump into her.

“hey, tango. not so good at kickin’ balls, are we?”

rectangle chuckled sheepishly. “nah. you remember what i was like in gym class... yikes. b-but anyway, you should probably come back.”

“why? square doesn’t want me to play.”

“no, it’s not that he doesn’t want you to play, it’s just that he wants all of us to play. together.”

triangle snorted. “now that just sounds sappy. i’m part of ‘all of us’, aren’t i?”

“sure, of course.”

“then he should just let me play! c’mon tango, let’s go back.”

rectangle and triangle made their way back to the field; nothing was really resolved, even if triangle made it seem that way. but there was no time for any more dialogue, as when they got back to the game, the round was finishing up - and it was entropy incarnate.

“where’s the ball?”

“i don’t even know what a ball is anymore!”

“is the ball even on the field?”

“what did i kick just now? what was that?”

“that was my face, idiot.”

“aaaaaah!”

the round finished up with the strangest conclusion; yim yum won, 12 to 11. it was so close to being a tie, if not for kite tripping and sending the ball into the goal at the last second.

“you managed to be even more bonkers than pentagon!” trapezoid said in awe in the game’s aftermath. “now that’s impressive.”

“hey, at least we were unpredictable!” parallelogram smirked. he turned to face the rest of helvetica. “good game! but at the same time… ‘get pent’.”

there were friendly chuckles throughout.

“thanks for the help, heptagon!” kite smiled at her teammate. he glanced at her, but didn’t reply.

the last round was the cool kids vs. group two - and then möbius strip would finally conclude the rowdy day of soccer balls and kicks and bizarre strategies.

“okay, this shouldn’t be too hard,” rhombus shrugged as they came to their team’s side of the field. “they have so many weak spots it’s hilarious.”

“how can you tell?” droplet asked, climbing up over their head.

“observation, my little friend. seeing what actually happens and taking it to heart is a big help. a whole lot more useful than conjecture, anyway.”

droplet simply blinked at them in response.

“and... go!” origin rolled the ball to their side.

heart started up with a double team with star; he knew how little star actually cared about the game, and so easily (and resignedly) covered his friend when he inevitably missed the ball. he kicked it rather gracefully to droplet, who was the other side.

“one of you get it already! sheesh!” triangle yelled when her teammates didn’t take any action. “you wanted to play, so play!”

rectangle hurried up to the ball and managed to roll it out from under droplet’s foot. he kicked it as hard as he could.

“don’t be so snippy with him,” square grunted.

“i’ll be as snippy as i like, thank you very much.”

the ball came over, and droplet backed up to get it – she hopped and kicked the ball. it barely made it to the other side of the field, and triangle alone rushed to reach it.

“c’mon, c’mon – ugh!” her own kick wasn’t very strong, and angrily turned back to her teammates. “why do you insist on me letting you guys play if you don’t do anything?” rhombus rushed over and passed it to heart, who scored a goal.

“they’d know what to do if you helped them!” square yelled back. “you never help them!”

“why do they need to be helped? i don’t need to be helped!”

“not everyone is you, for geometry’s sake!”

“guys!” circle cried. “please!” he got the ball and kicked it far out onto the other side of the field.

“for crying out loud, square! i already know!”

“then act like it!”

“how about you stop acting so obtuse!”

“guys!” circle had to deal with intercepting the balls every time now, as his friends couldn’t see past their quarrel – even the uninvolved rectangle was entangled in their mess. “please help me!”

“you’re calling me obtuse? i’m just trying to stand up for my brother! he’s always been the closest to you, and i keep having to worry you’ll upset him – just like yesterday! if anything, you’re obtuse!”

“i’m clearly acute!”

“and i am literally right!”

“i don’t need protecting!” rectangle frankly looked offended. “if i didn’t want to be friends with triangle, i wouldn’t be!”

“then maybe you shouldn’t!” square glared at him.

“you don’t have the right to pick who i’m friends with!”

“and neither of you should have the right to be so annoying!” triangle countered. “i’ve had to deal with the two of you since day one, and what do i get in return?”

“hopefully someone who cares about you,” rectangle looked over at her, hurt.

“but is that the case? i don’t know!”

“are you kidding me?”

“guys!” circle cried again.

zap! thud.

“woop, and there’s another point for the cool kids,” origin said hesitantly. “hm.”

circle was now limbless and motionless, the ball sitting in the goal behind him. he sighed and frowned where he sat.

“if you guys won’t play, i will!” triangle insisted. she kicked the ball sharply.

“how do i tolerate you?” square grumbled.

triangle continued kicking the ball back as it came, frequently going over on the offense despite the risk. heart was starting to fail to make up for star’s overconfidence (much to heart’s dismay), so his kicks were a little easier to counter now.

“c’mon, star–” heart eyed him, with a panicked edge to his voice. “i don’t think you need to be posing right now...”

“but don’t i look cool?”

“sure, but that’s not... that’s not important right now, star! please!”

star shrugged. heart sighed a shaky sigh.

droplet’s gentle kick was actually great for the strategy – having the kick only barely move the ball made it easy for a teammate to follow it up, even if it was easy to intercept. she was able to work very well with rhombus and heart.

not so much with star, but she didn’t pay attention to that.

the game was closing off, and the cool kids were clearly winning. they kept on getting points because triangle was the only one on her team really playing. triangle kept kicking harder and harder out of spite, edging farther into enemy territory, but, despite the opposing team’s lack of experience, her balls were always easily intercepted.

the game finished and the cool kids obviously won, 6 to 0. it was kind of pathetic – or at least triangle thought so. she felt betrayed by her teammates – her friends.

“OKAY, EVERYONE, TIME TO ANNOUNCE SCORES,” möbius said drily. all of the shapes followed him back to the main field – all but circle, who, without limbs, was unable to translate anywhere.

when they got there, octagon instantly had a question. “how will the scores be tallied?”

möbius strip yawned. “FIRSTLY, IT’S YOUR TOTAL POINTS FROM EVERY ROUND. ALL OF THOSE ARE ADDED UP. THEN, YOU GET A POINT ADDED FOR EVERY GAME YOU WON, AND A POINT REMOVED FOR EVERY GAME YOU LOST.”

“yikes!” heart gasped, envisioning every shot star missed. he shook with fear.

“OKAY, SO... THE TEAM WITH THE HIGHEST SCORE IS HELVETICA.”

“nice!” hexagon and pentagon jumped for joy.

trapezoid rubbed his chin. “but what’s our score?”

“YOU HEARD HOW THE SCORES WERE COUNTED. FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF.”

“but–”

“I’M TOO TIRED FOR THIS. ANYWHO...... THE TEAM WITH THE SECOND HIGHEST SCORE IS YIM YUM.”

parallelogram nudged kite playfully. “i guess being tall did come in handy.” she chuckled sheepishly in response.

heptagon even managed a half-smile.

“okay, okay... AHEM,” möbius grabbed everyone’s attention again. “NOW IT’S DOWN TO THE BOTTOM TWO, GROUP TWO AND THE COOL KIDS.”

“oh i know we lost...” heart whimpered. “star…”

“WHO’S GONNA BE SAFE? WHO’S GONNA BE UP FOR ELIMINATION?” möbius strip sang. “OOOOH... hey twinkle, give me a drumroll.”

no response.

“gone again? i swear, if he’s in the paradox... ANYWHO, THE COOL KIDS ARE SAFE, AND GROUP TWO IS NOT! WHOOPS! GUESS YOU FOLKS ARE UP FOR ELIMINATION!”

“really?” heart gasped. “we didn’t fail miserably?”

“hooray!” droplet clapped happily. “we didn’t fail miserably! ...what does ‘miserably’ mean?”

meanwhile, group two had failed miserably. square didn’t care about losing the challenge, he was just upset at triangle. rectangle didn’t mind much either; he was just offended by his brother.

and triangle? i think that mess revealed itself.

she faced square. “we lost the challenge! all thanks to you! i hope you feel proud of yourself.” and then she stormed off to their team’s cabin.

“i’m not the one who should be worried about pride,” he replied darkly.

as this was going down, heart watched pensively and sighed. soon enough, star approached and grabbed his hand.

“yikes, buddy, your hand is sweaty!”

heart stared at him, paused, then chuckled sheepishly. “not much i can do about that...”

“well, you can stop worrying so much! goodness gracious, you were so on edge today for no reason – you should’ve just had fun with me!”

star looked at him tenderly, but when heart looked into his eyes, he couldn’t help but see his steely gaze from that morning.

…

“hey, you okay?”

circle looked out to see origin flying in from the east. “oh, you came back for me!”

origin didn’t have the camera lens in his center anymore... odd.

“yeah...” origin said. “are you okay? that game was... pretty rough...”

circle chuckled sadly. “you could certainly say that...”

origin lowered south towards him. it was kind of awkward, origin sitting next to circle, considering the size difference between them.

“i could take you back to your cabin whenever you’d like. but if not we could just sit here... if that’s okay with you, of course...”

circle smiled up at him. “i’ll sit for a bit with you. but i’ll want to go back to the cabin eventually...”

so, the two sat there together in the field, talking periodically, but leaving plenty of time for the evening’s quiet.

“you really want to try again? do you think it would work?”

“well, i have to try. the four of us have been friends forever, i don’t want to give up on that now!”

“yeah, you’re right... y’know, circle... a triangle might be the ‘strongest shape’, but i’d say you’re the strongest friend i’ve ever met.”

moments passed.

“i think i’ll go back now,” circle said all of a sudden. “don’t want them to miss me, right?” he smiled.

origin couldn’t smile back, as he had no face, but he seemed to be smiling somehow anyway. “okay... i’ll give you back your limbs once you get there.”

he started buzzing and circle stuck to him; and buzzing he went towards the cabin.

when he got there, origin released circle, who magically regained his arms and legs as he landed – unusual. circle stood up and shook out his limbs. “hey twinkle!” he called.

origin edged closer. “sorry, my name’s origin.”

“oh. that’s a lovely name!”

“thank you. what was it?”

“oh yeah… i thought you could only remove limbs. like when you do the buzzy-thing. since when could you replace them?”

origin chuckled. “since always! but i don’t like using my line-making power much... so i usually use the grapher. and i don’t really know where that is. but hey, i’m willing to use my powers for you.”

“oh,” circle blinked at him. “okay, cool! thank you so much! good night!!” and then he entered his cabin.

origin seemed to glow a bit. “no problem.”

#story #object novel #osc #geometropolis #geometropolis: race to the 3rd dimension #grt3d

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