#Hellhole Supermarket

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 (here) — Part 2 — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3

You weren’t a powerful Overlord nor were you the weaker ones to have their souls owned by other demons to survive in this hellhole. You’re merely capable enough to get by your everyday life. Like always, you’d stay clear from any of ongoing battles or powerful demons that were out and about. Your keen 6th sense to pinpoint potential dangers was always your go-to during your outings

You kind of treated Hell as your paradise to shut-in in your room and read all the comics you want plus watch all the TV shows you want. You were one of the rare demons that get connection to the Earth realm where you can enjoy the guilty pleasures you spend your days doing. Of course, your death was a suicide as you saw no life ahead of you

But you really really should have stayed in that day. It started out as any other day in Hell and you were on your way to the usual supermarkets for the junk food and drink you love. Normally, it was uneventful, until you caught sight of a dying demon, no, ‘wounded’ would be the right word since demons would only demon by angelic blades, even you knew that. Still, the demon was heavily wounded

It must have been a good few minutes since you caught weaker demons attempting to take advantage of the weakened demon as easy prey. You immediately took out your notebook, scribbing a phase before tearing it out and blow on it lightly. The page turned to white sparkles before taking shape of a row of angelic spears around you, it launched at the weak demons before they could do anything to the wounded one

You took went to the wounded demon quickly as your spears faded to nothing after doing its damage. You held his limb hand and closed your eyes, visualizing your cozy apartment and the ground swallowed the two of you up. In the blink of an eye, you were back home, sighing in relief

Not even a moment, you were knocked to the ground and pinned down by your shoulders and thigh. You struggled a bit before you realized it was the wounded demon that was pinning you down with radio dials for eyes

Without thinking, you reached into your coat pocket and took out a piece of paper, slamming it onto his face and blew at it. The paper faded to nothing but sparks then the demon stilled before closing his eyes and slumping forward onto you. Unconscious. But you invited someone you shouldn’t have into your home

This had to be Alastor, the Radio Demon

You grimaced, eying Alastor on top of you sleeping like a harmless deer. You thought of throwing him back out into the streets, but you didn’t exactly have the heart to. You came to the conclusion of healing him as fast as you could then sending him on his merry way! Yes!

Noooo!!! Why is he still here!?!?!?!?!?!?!??????!!!!!

“My dear, you really should be taking more care of your diet. This is hardly filling or healthy for you.” Alastor eyed the cup noodle you were about to open up like you were holding trash “But it’s fast and gets my hunger sated.” You eyed back, “It’s not like I’m feeding you this. I cook for your meals anyways…” You continued roaming around the kitchen, rubbing a fork, and setting a timer for your food. Ignoring the closeness of Alastor. “As long as it doesn’t concern you, it’ll be fine. I’ll treat you better since you just healed up. These are my own indulgence.” “And I appreciate your hospitality, dear, truly, I do. The matter at hand is your consumption!” Alastor grabbed your precious cup noodle lunch away, “I shall take over your meals from now on.”

Yes, you have fully healed Alastor and he’s back to full health. No, you didn’t tell him to stay. In fact, the moment his wounds were all healed, you showed him the open door, waiting for him to leave. He didn’t exactly let you make him leave. He said he was staying to repay your kindness, but all he was doing was inserting him into your afterlife and really making it Hell

At first, he praised your unique power to summon anything you write with a gentle blow, especially the part where you put him to sleep the first time. Then he urged you to make a name for yourself, but you really just want to shut yourself in your room and indulge in your time-wasting hobby. You told him off and shut yourself in your room, but he would just appear through the shadows and apologise, saying he’d leave the matter

When that whole business was done, Alastor got worse. You’re positive some other demons would love to be treated this way, but you’re just weirded out. It started out small, Alastor making meals like he said, shifting your schedule to a healthier one. Then taking care of your needs whenever you are about to do something. Even as simple as getting a glass of water

Then it escalated to touches. A handholding here, maybe he’s lean into you while reading. Or he’ll lay next to you in your own bed. Shift closer to you while on the couch. Stare at you while you were busy reading manga or watching animes and shows. Plus you could feel him staring at you while you sleep from the shadows even though you told him not to

But the most unnerving thing was when you would go restock on your food and other supplies. Alastor being the gentleman would carry and pay for your stuff. That you’re used to and didn’t care since either way, you had your methods. It was what happens during the two of you walking

“Alastor…” You hugged your coat tighter as your lips pressed together tightly from the scene, your eyebrows furrowed from the tense situation you were in. You had just left the shop to get new books and volumes, only to be met with such a sight. “What…” “My darling, your timing is perfect.” Alastor threw away the torn body of what used to be a demon. The street was covered with a layer of thick red and black blood. Hellborns and sinners alike were all brutally ripped away by the fearsome Radio Demon. “These pest dares to look at you wrongly, surely they deserve a good, limb pulling.” He walked over to you with his ever-present smile, offering his clean hand. “Shall we head home, My Doe?” You feel yourself tense as you firmly told him, “Just because they stare at me a little long and spat out rude remarks, it’s not an excuse or reason to torture them like this. I’m… I don’t exactly mind unless they attack.” Alastor grabbed your hand and kissed it, “Dearie, why give them the chance to harm you when I can prevent it? You can name and point fingers, I’ll be your killer.”

Trapped was what you felt at home and anywhere, as long as Alastor was there, you didn’t like it. Those sweet romantic gestures and attention from him that you would only see in your books and shows left a bad taste in your mouth. 

At the 4th year, however, something changed. Alastor sold his soul to you as the ‘last’ act of pure devotion and loyalty to you. Since the contract was all by your rules, you made use of it

Limit Alastor’s powers because it scares you how much he could do and the destruction he could cause. Forbid him from devouring or owning souls because he does it so easily when he thinks you were wronged in any way. And most importantly, forbid him from disobeying your words, whatever they may be, that way, you can finally have peace

How Alastor was still able to be this unnerving, you didn’t know and you didn’t want to know. Somehow, the contract was something like a declaration that the two of you were romantically involved with ecah other? If it made sense. It didn’t, really

Alastor still stayed with you because he had told you a long time ago that his home was destroyed in a brutal battle, hence why you found him that battered. So you offered yours. You did manage to set some firmer ground rules with the contract’s help. Like no entering your room or throwing away your junk food

Though Alastor still plays a big part in your life just because. You had wanted a lover before, but Alastor had proven how bad a relationship could go, and you two didn’t even established anything! You love fiction, fiction is life or afterlife. You can just drown yourself in the world of fiction and never leave

That’s the basis of your power. It’s like summoning through writing and the faint blow from your lips. You have to be aware of the components though, the hardest to summon was definitely the angel spears. It was the day after extermination and a spear was stuck into a demon, you were curious and took it back with you. You studied it and tested it out, knowing its strength and limitations before actually attempting to summon it. Works well enough, since it was easy to study

In the blink of an eye, 7 years had already passed. While Alastor was out on buying new ingredients for your celebration dinner of surviving another extermination, you caught the Princess of Hell and her promotion on the ‘Happy Hotel’. A place that welcomes anyone, a place that gives anyone a chance. It sounds lovely, but you didn’t have the mentality and energy to help out

A foolproof plan came to mind. You could, no, should send Alastor there. He loves entertainment! He wouldn’t be bored there! The hotel is much bigger and there’s more people there for him to hang out with. Plus he would definitely get a room there since he’s going to be staying. Even when he disagrees, because you just know he would rather stay by your side, you can use the contract as a last resort

“My dear!” Alastor greeted the moment he came back from his little shopping. He gave you a peak on the crown of your head when he walked past you, then headed to the table to place the bags of items down. “Did you hear about that ridiculous plan the Princess told in the picture box? Hahaha! It’s sure to fail! No way in any universe would just a silly and childish thing happen! No, sir!” “I want to help her with it, it sounds like a good plan. It’s better than annual exterminations.” You spoke while coming over to check the things Alastor brought. “But you know I’m more of a home person and not the go-out and help-others type.” “Exactly, dearie, we need not care for such fantasy.” Alastor nodded along. “That’s why you’re going in my place.” You stated firmly without blinking or shifting in your spot, at the growing static, you looked up to see Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dial. Very rarely are those directed at you since he swore he’d never do you harm or wish you harm. “You’ll go and help the Princess to make it a success.” Alastor’s eyes shifted back to normal, narrowing as he asked, “Till how long, my dear?” You had to control yourself to hide a smile as you spoke, “For as long as it takes of course. You can’t rush redemption, right? And it’s the first of its kind too.” The static grew again, you knew Alastor was getting annoyed with such a wish (order) from you. “But this would take a long while. I’d be returning to check on you, yes?” “Oh, no. Can’t interrupt your work.” You said, carrying your pile of snacks to your little comfort corner and dropping it with huff, there was a skip in your step as you returned back to the table. “You can’t come back here nor see me when in the service of the Princess. Well, you can see me when I’m the one to approach you or call for you, that’s the only exception.” Alastor would have a frown on by now if it weren’t for his insistence on the power of smiles, “Who would take care of you? Who would watch over you? Who would tend to you? Who would protect you while I’m gone, sweetheart?” You laughed, “Don’t be so dramatic. I can handle myself. It’s just like before I met you,” You didn’t miss the radio crackling like it broke connection, “But this time, I have you as a backup should I need.”

Making Alastor leave you wouldn’t have been possible without the contract and the fact that his soul was yours to control. Very pushy but you had to do what you had to, it was all to regain that quiet and isolated shut-in life you love. Never have you missed the silence in your home and the void of a watchful gaze all around you

You squealed and smiled brightly, “Time to chill and laze around!”

Oh how the Radio Demon was fuming as he made his way to that ratchaed hotel. He shouldn’t have let you know of such a news. If that inferno picture box was broken, then you wouldn’t know. No, you have your phone, so that makes no difference. Maybe it was the fact that that cannibal chef was gone that Charlie had time to promote that idea of hers? 

This would be his first appearance since 7 years ago. He kept his presence gone from the public eye just to hide his connection and fancy towards you. If demons knew you had his soul, who knows what danger you’d be in? He can’t let that happen to you. No, you were the kind soul that saved him and gave him a place to belong. Truly belong

Never had he felt such a sense of comfort around someone so lazy and chill. The fact that you were average but powerful in your right that you humble yourself to blend in with others. To live your afterlife as you please and like without a care in the world. So long as your interest was sated

He just couldn’t help but want to be yours. You deserve it, after all

But now. Now he had to provide his attention and care to some princess’ dream! What joke is this?!

Were you sending him away because he wasn’t strong enough? You limited his powers to see if he could still be as strong as before. Was that the reason? What other demon held your attention? As far as he knew. You have no interest in forming connections. He was the first one you actually cared for and hosted your home for! You don’t even own other souls and you’re strong!

He was your only one. Only!

In front of the hotel, he knocked rhythmically, waiting patiently for the door to be opened and for him to introduce himself. He’ll show you. “Hel—” The door closed shut in his face before it opened again, “-lo!”

His ears twitched as he heard the ruckus inside. These souls don’t deserve your time and attention spent on them, he’ll deal with the problem like always and return to your side. He’ll show you just how powerful and cruel he is and can be

The door opened again and he introduced himself with his plan in mind. “Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, princess. Quite a pleasure!”

Note: I really really didn't mean to do this so long... I could have put it into 2 parts, but I was too lazy to. There was actually some more I wanna add, but then it will be a literal essay. Anyways~ How you like this one?

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

[aemoonie]

i was just in the most ranched supermarket in my area and there was a really cute guy working there ?? like my guy why are you hiding in this hellhole of a grocery store 👀

#he just walked past me but i was like #am i dreaming #anyway shoutout to the dude i hope he's getting paid well :)) #( 💭 ) !

[babyawacs]

@mailonline noway extend the royal brand with wellliked international ly attention adding harrymeghan but realign whatis helpful what not witho iut streamline thesame simpler: british supermarket opens and another d omestic thing charles notlikeable atall.mind #relevance! .@KensingtonRoyal

@mailonline noway extend the royal brand with wellliked internationally attention adding harrymeghan but realign whatis helpful what not withoiut streamline thesame simpler: british supermarket opens and another domestic thing charles notlikeable atall.mind #relevance! .@KensingtonRoyal I am Christian KISS BabyAWACS – Raw Independent Sophistication #THINKTANK + #INTEL #HELLHOLE…

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[orbiting-star]

I’m isolating atm coz i moved back to uni (the way i moved into a country with ridiculously high covid rates just because it was better than staying home-) and anyway a bitch is lowkey almost starving and i’m gonna have to. Uber eats groceries. What the fawk. Never thought i’d ever use uber eats for anything other than alcohol or light meals

#yes i uber eats alcohol from the supermarket what are you a cop? #coz of the bars closing n stuff #and now lockdown 3 #but at least i'm not in my hellhole house that gives me flashbacks every 3 steps <3 #but yea no this whole 1 (light) meal a day thing is not working out #gonna order alcohol and snacks as well because fuck it i have money might as well #random #if anyone wanted an update on how i'm doing sdkqjh #also been playing me3 recently and wtf one of the DLCs is legit 4 hours long #i love it #also it's so gay i'm living for it #the real development of the games was the progression of gay shit #me3 is just gay at every corner we love to see it #that entire dlc was gay #ALSO i found a 300k clexa hunger games au fic and i'm LIVING #might be starving but thriving nonetheless

[yvynyl]

// Letters to YVYNYL //

Fragile Gang - Thinking of You

 / I lost this incredible story in my email inbox from over a year ago. I don’t even know how I found it again. So bummed I hadn’t posted it earlier, but this letter is extremely worth the read and the record is fantastic; dreamy, heavy. Arlo Klahr’s letter hits hard. The experience he tells us about having his friend getting randomly murdered fits well with blasting guitars.

Hi Mark,

How are you? This is Arlo from Fragile Gang. I wanted to tell you about our new album, For Esme, and some of the stories behind it and behind our lives in music.

First off, the album is a tribute to our friend Esme Barrera, who passed away in 2012. She was a vital part of the Austin and El Paso, Texas music scenes and a volunteer at the Girls Rock Austin camp, among many other things. She touched hundreds and thousands of people’s lives with her energy and enthusiasm and friendship. For our part, I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say we might not have made it past our beginnings as Fragile Gang without her.

Secondly, this is the first time anyone besides us has ever put out our music. (Our friends in the band Young Jesus just put out the album as the first release on their label, Hellhole Supermarket.) Aisling and I have been playing and recording music together—being in the same musical orbit—in some form or another for almost 20 years now.

We both met Esme around 2003 at our first Fragile Gang show in El Paso. It was in a building inside a junkyard out in the desert part of town. The bands played up on the flat bed of a big truck that was about six feet off the ground. I was about 29 then and thinking I’d have to leave music. I don’t know why. It’s too complicated to go into. Just feeling like a loser. I couldn’t see any kind of life in music from the place my mind was at then.

When I was younger, things had just seemed so much easier and more spontaneous. The feelings in my heart were undiluted. I was more sure of myself.

On one tour (back in the grunge days) my band Foss showed up in San Francisco without a show. We noticed there was a Matador Records band playing that night. An idea sprung up between us: we went to a payphone, found the number for the club and pretended we were Bruce and Jonathan from Sub Pop Records (we liked Sub Pop). We asked if the club would consider putting the band on the bill because the label was thinking of signing them and wanted to see how they’d do in a few live situations before that. We had to call the club back a few times and talk to a bartender, a booking agent, a manager, but somehow we got the show.

Then we proceeded to suck.

It was one of our worst shows. We hadn’t practiced in a while and we were kind of freaked out playing in a big city with a big band. At one point I managed to pull loose all the cables from the amps while thrashing around, so the song was just the drummer drumming and ad-libbing words that weren’t part of the song.

But despite this, or maybe because of it (and the Sub Pop connection), the reactions were strangely positive-seeming: “So…Sub Pop’s signing you all?” It sounded like a complex statement full of disbelief, awe, envy, confusion. Or: “Hey, what’s your name again? Where are you from?” another person asked. “You were rad.” But were we rad? Or did we suck? The overheard conversations—ranging from disdain to befuddlement about whether we were the future of grunge or how Sub Pop must really be branching out—gave us no conclusive answers to those questions. But those kinds of questions never stopped us for long back then. We just wanted to play.

On another tour we sneaked across the Canadian border (pre 9/11). It was to play a show with Leslie Feist when she was in a band called Placebo and before she became known worldwide as Feist. We had become friends with her on a previous tour. The band was turned away at the border and banned from the country. We had booked a tour of Canada with no documents and our alibi fell through under scrutiny by the border guards.

Another idea sprung up: One of us (the one who couldn’t drive a stick shift) was a dual American/Canadian citizen. The band drove out to the smallest crossing in the middle of some farmland in North Dakota and then in the middle of the night drove out farther to some fields. The idea was to walk north (and to guess which way north was) and the driver would go back to the border, try to get across and then wait somewhere down the road.

He managed to drive the car (full of fireworks and amps and records) and get through the crossing. It took the rest of the band about an hour walking across fields and marshes, flushing geese out of lakes, getting wet, being scared, walking, sometimes running in the pitch black. They hit the road somewhere, took a left (good guess) and eventually saw some tail lights. It was the tour station wagon. We missed our show in Winnipeg but ended up playing with Leslie in Calgary. (This story is sort of documented, but just barely. There’s a garbled video online where she introduces her song and mentions our band sneaking across the border to play.)

But back to that night at the junkyard, we tried to play well, but I just got the feeling that it didn’t matter. Or no one was listening really. Or that we weren’t really that good. The sound was lost, the people were scattered, we kept making mistakes, and I was trying to overcompensate. I also had a weird (and maybe perfectly reasonable) feeling being older: What did I have to say? Who could relate to it? Should this lifestyle be over? And also the frustrated feeling that I did, we did, have something to say. That there was a reason for this—but that I just couldn’t reach it.

A girl came up to us after our show. She seemed young (about 19 or 20) and also just full of life, had a shy yet bold demeanor. It was loud and dark in that place with the next band tuning up and people talking and songs being played over the PA. She leaned in close and shouted something.

“You’re my new favorite band,” she said. One of us might have even said “What?” in surprise and disbelief. But then she went on: “You’re just the kind of band I like: a girl, a guy, both singing, playing guitars. Just like all my favorite bands. Can I be in your fan club?” That was Esme. We became friends and we became part of her fan club. (She had a big and growing group of Esme supporters.) We even wore buttons that had her name. Went to dance parties where she DJ’d. Wrote and mailed letters back and forth (even when we lived in the same city).

And we stayed friends with her (even when we moved to different cities). In the early hours of New Year’s Day 2010 my mom passed away after a number of years living with and fighting cancer. When we did our album Twister in the Ocean a few months later, Esme was there. We recorded it in the living room of the ramshackle house I grew up in surrounded by the tumultuous and vibrant oil paintings my mom had left behind from her life as an artist and teacher. Esme came in from Austin where she was working with special needs children and volunteering for the rock camp and was selling music when she was on the job at Waterloo Records. She was also learning to play the drums. (We always said we would be neighbors and be in a band together one day.)

She took the sunset photo that became the album cover and she sang some backing vocals. She even helped convince us that we should keep the name Fragile Gang, which we’d been thinking of changing. On the last minute of the last day of the five days we had set aside to learn and record the songs—as the sun was starting to fade outside—we finished the album. We had just done the backing vocals on one of the songs (they felt triumphant and joyous) and then the group of us walked up the hill at the end of the street. There were a few drops of rain falling and an electric sky. Esme snapped the picture. I only wish she was in it.

Two years went by. It was New Year’s Day 2012. I was sitting down to observe the anniversary of my mom’s death and to appreciate her and to try to work on some writing. It was a bright blue sunny cool Los Angeles day. You could see a little snow on the tops of the mountains. It felt like such a beautiful day to start something new, appreciate what you have, remember what you’ve lost. Our friend and bandmate Matt called from El Paso. He asked me what I was doing and how I was. I told him what I was up to. There was an uncomfortable silence and then he told me the news that Esme had been murdered.

There’s a front-page article in the El Paso Times from around that time. The headline calls Esme a beautiful and gentle soul. She was. It was a horrible time for everyone who knew her. We were in shock. Someone had come into her house in the early morning hours of New Year’s and killed her. Later we found out that he had assaulted two other women that night. And others during his time in Austin. Then we found out that he had killed himself in a gruesome way. There was no justice. No closure. No explanation. Just horror. I found it hard to do anything during this time.

It took awhile, but we started writing new songs. We began to realize that they were about Esme. Sometimes directly and sometimes indirectly. About her or inspired by her or just written with her somewhere in our hearts and thoughts. We volunteered at the Rock N’ Roll Camp for Girls in Los Angeles that summer in Esme’s honor. We talked about her with other people who knew her and with people who didn’t know her. Then we decided the songs would be a tribute to her. If we could do it in the right kind of way, then we should.*

Music was always a place for me and my friends. A place to hide away and a place of possibilities and joy and sharing. Our experience back then in El Paso (probably no different from a lot of young people anywhere) was that you had to find ways to be creative, entertain yourself and your friends, support each other. It was communal.

One time back in the Foss days we got on a local cable access TV show by claiming we were a gospel band. It was a conservative, religious-oriented political talk show and we figured we could learn a couple of classics (we were into folk music of all kinds) and play our songs too. While we played our songs and were being interviewed about the dangers of gangster rap, a bunch of bored kids—some we knew and some we didn’t—from all over El Paso called in and pestered the host and his sidekick. It was nighttime. They were stuck inside their homes. There was nothing to do. They saw some music on the TV. It was live. They called in.

Esme helped me remember the spirit of those times: how important music, sharing and community can be. Despite any day-to-day struggles she might have had, she was unfailingly positive. Her influence spread far beyond our small scenes.

It’s part of why I’m here sharing this with you. Although it can be hard at times with people I love gone, Esme still encourages me to play and keep hold of some of the best that music can offer. Spontaneity and openness. Inspiration and joy. Being connected to people you love and who love you. The chance to bring some color and light and motion into being. Some gentleness and beauty. Some vulnerability and strength. Some good times.

If any of this interests you, we’d be honored to be mentioned on YVYNYL and are happy to make your acquaintance this way and bring our Fragile Gang music and stories to your attention and to your readers.

Lots of love to you. Thanks for reading,

Arlo & Fragile Gang.

Submit your story to Letters to YVYNYL.

#Fragile Gang #Letters to YVYNYL #Hellhole Supermarket #Austin #El Paso #Los Angeles #death #murder #Esme Barrera

[missed-connections-of-fear]

sorry, I know there's already a lot happening on this blog, but if I have to see one more developer or 'entrepreneur' trying to rebuild that hellhole of an institute that started it all, I'm gonna lose it.

Every Few MONTHS it seems like some fucker is in my news feed saying "let's make it a museum" "let's plant a memorial garden (where we can sell souvenirs, bc money)" "let's remake the institute to research prevention of further apocalypses" "let's build a supermarket!!"

and it's like. Stfu! Are You Dumb???? Do you WANT to be cursed??? Please god let reckless capitalists stop fucking with the fabric of the universe. I've seen Enough, thanks.

I think we should just let them die if they try shit.

- Rose

I second this

- Darcy

#the magnus archives #tma #unreality #unreality tw #missed connections of fear #darcy missed connections #rose missed connection

[fayrinferno]

Tagging is exhausting and so is Tumblr, yet I’m still here (and why)

So despite all the crap that has been going on now with Post+ and tumblr trying us again (they won’t stop until there’s noone left but the pornblogs, I guess), I still browse here, enjoy my parts of the community, and like a ton of posts... but very rarely get around actually posting... and when I do, I put like 100 reblogs in the queue, trying to tag stuff, which, ngl, exhausts me. I think I might change that habit I had ever since joining tumblr in... 2013, I think? Crazy.

So unless I have something to say, I’ll just try to hit reblog/queue instead of like. Without tags. I might add them later via the mass post editor. Might not. That’s the only way I can currently ensure some sort of regular activity and presence here, while being super busy and save the actual free time I have for something more creative/productive.

I’d like to stay in touch because I have not yet switched to other platforms as many did and if I was supposed to do my own original posts only, well, it would just be an occasional tumbleweed rolling around the desert. And I mean, once in two months occasional. Nobody cares about that. Well, nobody might care about this either, but felt like saying something to explain the change. This won’t concern my other blogs (that are neglected again, I’m aware), I’ll just try a little experiment here.

So why even continue trying with this hellsite? Well, I could start a twitter account, but tbh, I don’t see it as an alternative for my content and, at this point, I only see my own website as one. I want to continue with the fandom translation, writing, and art as well, and I don’t see myself posting that on twitter, I really don’t. This site had the perfect potential for fandom (plus fandom porn, let’s be honest... regular porn, too, but that’s beside the point). But it never continued to improve and develop as such. Instead, it just puts on parts of shitty supermarket costumes it can afford to try and impersonate some more successful and trendier websites that have long perfected them because, hello, they specialized on them and invested much more effort and resources than tumblr ever could.

Over the years, they tried to add parts of whatever social media site/app was in at the time (now it’s patreon I guess), but they couldn’t embrace what it really is, which is a fandom hellhole full of people nostalgic for livejournal or myspace. I’m not here to become an influencer or to make extra 5 bucks; I’m here because I have a handful of friends and mutuals here that I, huge surprise, don’t want to put behind paywall; because I can still html-edit my profile and pretend it’s a website and still fill my dash with such content as I like instead of being constantly monetized by consuming monetized vomit and weird psyop content attacking me from all sides in what is supposed to be my free time.

Anyway, tl;dr, less tags and more posts from now on.

#I mean the patreon wouldn't even be such a bad idea if you came with it first because you tried to do something original years ago #and if you thought it through including the legal and copyright implications #now it's just laughable but I guess if youtube can try that ridiculous stuff why can't this clown website right #anyway how did I get here?!? #tumblr meta #block of text #long post #about

[kat-katsuki]

Lower Jaw Bone | Dabi x Reader Oneshot

A/N: KYAAAA I couldn't contain myself after reading chapter 291, and I got inspired to make this oneshot. It's a little angsty, a little fluffy, and most of all it's just heart wrenching.

Warning: Spoiler!! Chapter 291!!!

Word count: 5k

----------Enjoy--------

He still remembers the first day he met you. Even up till this day, he will never forget the way you shivered in your own ice on a cold, dry, winter night, trying to keep his body cool.

He had no idea why you were there that day, because it was supposed to be a secluded mountain where only Endeavor went to train. He had planned to end his life then and there, using his own fire which was passed down to him by his bastard of a father, the one who tortured and tormented him. However, you saved him.

You had an ice quirk, just like his mother. You covered yourself in ice, releasing your quirk continuously in order to get through the fire exceeding 2000 degrees just to get him out of there. Your arms and legs were severely burnt, much like his, and you had carried him out of that mountain all by yourself.

His body temperature was still very high, and both of your clothes were burnt off by the fire. You had to build an igloo out of your ice to protect yourself from the cold, and at the same time you kept hugging him while activating your own quirk to cool his body temperature down. When he woke up, he felt excruciating pain all over. At first he thought he was dead, because when he saw you, he thought you were an angel. Even though it hurt all over, the area you touched felt unbelievably good.

He noticed you were shivering all over, teeth chattering. The two of you were naked, and both of you had burn wounds all over, his more severe than yours. His entire jaw was burnt off, and he couldn't talk. He just weakly stared at you while you quivered, and he didn't know how many days passed, just like that. By the time you were awake, you told him he was going to be okay. He couldn't move his body at all, nor speak, and you were also severely injured. He watched you drag your body into the depth of the forest, and he thought you would just leave him there to die, because for hours you never returned.

But you came back. You came back with bandages, clothes, medicine, and blankets. He wondered why you didn't bring an adult, and why you were still naked when you came back to him. He laid there motionless while you applied whatever medicine you were able to find on him. Poor him. You had no idea if the medicine was meant for burn wounds, but it was all you had. You rubbed the strange cream all over his body, and wrapped him up in the little white bandages you owned. "I'm sorry, I don't have much, so I can only cover up the worst parts for now. I'll try to get more later," you apologized to him as you covered his face, neck, and torso with bandages.

He noticed how you didn't apply any medicine to yourself. All of the cream in that little jar that you had went on his body, and even that wasn't able to help cover all of his injuries. You made sure to reconstruct the igloo every day, and you made sure he was covered in blankets and bandages.

The next few days were excruciating. His skin peeled off and the blood dried onto the bandages. He would lay in the igloo alone every day as you limped out to scavenge for food. Every day you'd come back with bandages and medicine, and a little bit of food. You were finally able to find clothes for yourself at some point, but it hurts to wear them because of your peeling skin. You always apologized to him about not being able to provide better, but he didn't understand why you should be sorry. You barely had enough for yourself, and whatever you had you always prioritized him. You don't even know him. Why would you go so far just to save a stranger like him? He didn't understand.

At first he blamed you. He wanted to scream at you for saving him, and he wanted to tell you to let him die, but he couldn't talk. However, as days passed, and he watched you limp out of the igloo every day and back, and how you'd always apply whatever medicine you could get your hands on to him first, how you always ate the left overs of what you gave to him first.... He could no longer tell you that he wanted to die. Tears slowly seeped out of his eyes, his last tears, and each time you wiped them away, telling him sorry, and that you knew it was painful, and asked him to bear with it. Little did you know it wasn't the pain that made him cry.

Because he lost his jaw, he couldn't chew. As disgusting as it was, you had to chew for him and then feed it into his mouth. That was how you kept him alive. You were quite the talkative person. Whenever you weren't out looking for food and medicine, you were telling him about yourself.

You didn't have friends, and your parents are villains. Your father was convicted for mass murder, while your mother was a drug addict. You escaped home at the age of seven; you never went to school. You were originally living in an abandoned cottage in the depth of these mountains. Alone, yet safe. You used to walk miles every day just to get to a small farm at the edge of these mountains. There lived this old couple, who were farmers, and they taught you how to plant vegetables, and sometimes offered you bread and milk. You told him you saw him in the fire, and your body just moved on its own.

Two months. The two of you lived in the igloo for two months, until spring came, and that he was finally able to walk. His legs were in worse shape than yours, and you had recovered pretty well. Although you still had difficulties walking, you were able to support him back to your abandoned cottage. "It's probably really dusty since I've been gone for so long. Sit here! I'll clean up real quick!" You told him as you set him down on this old, worn out chair at the doorway.

He grabbed you by the wrist before you went inside. He couldn't speak, so he just stared at you with his teal blue eyes, trying to convey the words 'thank you.'

You simply smiled back at him and told him to wait. You were very slow, and he could hear loud thuds coming from inside every once in a while, and he knew it was you falling. Even though he never asked you to save him, and he still wasn't sure if he wanted to stay in this world, he swore to himself that day that he would spend his entire life protecting you.

At some point, when the two of you were able to walk normally again, you began to bring him with you out to look for food. You had a little garden that you would tend to, but there were no crops that grew during the spring time. "Harvest season is summer and fall," you told him.

You were a year younger than him, barely eleven. Yet you already knew how to survive in this hellhole of a world. You taught him how to look for expired packaged bread thrown out of the supermarkets and bakeries. The two of you always hung out at the dark alley where the big supermarkets throw out the goods that they couldn't sell anymore. You knew this one worker who would always secretly sneak out some fresh milk for him, since he couldn't chew.

He tried to tell you his name, but you could only read hiragana, since you never went to school. "To-u-ya," you read the characters he wrote into the ground with a stick. He then pointed to himself. "Touya! Your name is Touya!" You threw your arms around him. His eyes curved into downward crescents as he tried to smile. You already told him your name. Your name is (Y/N). The two of you held hands, and he swore he'd never let go.

Child labor was illegal, but you two were able to get a job in an underground club. It was a place where bad people did illegal business, so they were very secretive. You were a sweet talker, and the owner there must have took pity on the two of you, so he let the two of you work as janitors. He paid very little, but it was enough for the two of you to get by. You were very stingy with your money. While Touya would always spend his share on some fresh food for the two of you, you were always saving up in this big jar. He told you multiple times through writing that you two had enough money to buy food, and that you didn't have to live off of those expired goods anymore, but you wouldn't listen. You still went to that dark alley every day to get those expired bread and canned food.

It wasn't until he turned fifteen that he realized why you were always saving up. One day, when that sorry excuse of a piggy bank of yours was finally full. You happily picked it up and hugged it to your chest. You grabbed him by the wrist and told him today was his big day. He had no idea what you were talking about, but you held his hand with one hand, and the money jar with the other. He then found himself standing in front of a run down, sketchy looking building that had a red cross on it. This was a hospital? He thought.

You pulled him inside and there was a man with frizzy curly ashy brown hair and a pair of round, cracked glasses. He wore a white lab coat with a name plate on it that said Dr. Taniguchi. "Doc, about the jaw implant surgery I asked you about, I have the money for it now!" You placed the big jar of money on the counter. Touya's eyes widened. Jaw implant?! Was that what you were saving up for? All those years you diced and mashed up the food for him since he couldn't chew. He was already used to it. It sucked that he couldn't talk to you, but he had honestly accepted it. He had no idea you were secretly, this whole time, saving your own hard earned money just so he could be able to live a normal life. Him! A stranger! Someone who had no affiliation to you whatsoever.

Touya grabbed that money jar from the counter and pulled you away. He shook his head violently, trying to tell you no. He didn't need a jaw. You should use this money for yourself. He was okay like this. Really! You snatched the money from him. "We agreed that we wouldn't interfere with what we choose to spend our money on Touya. I'm spending my money on getting you a new jaw!" You placed the jar back down. "This is the only place that doesn't require identification Touya. And it's cheap. I know it's sketchy, but Doc promised me he'd get you a new jaw. I saw him do surgery on other people before, he's trust worthy! Please.... Promise me you'd go through with it. With a lower jaw, you can talk again, and eat! You'd be able to return to a normal human being!"

He kept shaking his head at you. Since his tear ducts were burnt, only blood seeped out of his under eyes, streaming down his scarred face. You can't do this! You need that money too! That leg of yours hasn't been doing well the past few years, most likely because you were treating his wounds instead of yours back then. You need medicine and money too! He held your hands and placed them to his forehead. He begged you not to do this. Please (Y/N)! Please! "Ahhh! AHHHH!" his voice only came out like this. No words, just sounds.

"See? You need it to talk Touya."

The doctor brought him into this small bright room that smelled of rubbing alcohol. You waved at him behind the doors as it closed, and he was pressed to the bed. After one shot of anesthesia, he was out cold. When he woke up again, he had bandages wrapped all over his lower jaw. Yes, jaw. He had a jaw bone implant. He could feel it. "You need to keep the bandage on for at least three weeks," the doctor told them. The surgery was a success.

You cried for hours with joy and relief, and kept telling him she was finally able to hear him speak now! Touya cried too. He didn't know how to thank you. You were an angel. You were his angel. How was he ever going to repay you?!

Three weeks later and the bandages came off. "Try moving your jaw!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"Ah! Ah!" he moved it up and down. "Ai' ish?" It's been so long since he talked, he still needed to adjust to the new sensation, but for the first time, he was able to say something that wasn't a series of 'ahh's. You were bawling.

"WAAAHHHHHHH! TOUYAAAAAAAA!!!!!!"

You helped him regain his ability to speak. With a few months of practice he was talking normally again. It was weird for him, because he had hit voice change by the time the jaw implant was done, so when he spoke he felt like the voice wasn't his. His favorite thing to say after he regained the ability to speak was your name. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!" he'd yell every day.

"I'm here! What?!" you'd ask him.

"Nothing. Just, wanted to say your name." He smiled at you. Every time he smiled, you smiled. One of the reasons you wanted him to do that surgery was for him to smile. Even though his lower jaw was covered in burn scars, his smile was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "(Y/N)!" He picked you up by the waist, and twirled you around in the air. You squealed as you held on tightly to his neck. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!" He would never get tired of saying it.

You thought the two of you would be able to be like this forever. Your ice, his fire, small cottage, just the two of you, secluded from this suffocating world and it's shit society. However, one day, as the two of you were walking down the streets to buy some groceries, he saw a billboard, and he stopped. He stared at the billboard for a long time, and wouldn't budge. "Touya?" You called his name. You gasped when you saw the look in his eyes. Those wide, teal blue eyes, staring at a strange, red haired man with beards of fire. His stare was so cold, colder than any winter, any frostbite you've ever felt. You could sense the pure hatred radiating off of him. He looked like he could kill just by glaring, and it scared you. "Touya?"

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. "Yeah?"

"W-What's wrong?" you asked.

"Nothing...." He looked down. For the first time in forever, you saw sadness in his eyes. He stood there for a long time before telling you, "There's a place I must go to."

He brought you to a flower shop, and there he purchased a small bouquet of two blue Amaryllis flowers. You didn't know why he chose such a weird flower, since Amaryllis usually come in red and white. He then took you to a hospital, and he asked you for a favor. "Can you hand this to the counter? Tell them it's for Todoroki Rei, and tell them not to tell her who sent it."

You didn't ask who Todoroki Rei was, because you could already see it in his eyes. He probably didn't want to scare people with the scars all over his face. You had scars too, but they were on your legs and arms. You went inside as you were told, and handed the flowers to the counter. You repeated his instructions to the nurses. They asked you who you were, and you just told them they didn't need to know.

After you were done with that, he took your hand in his, and you two left. He never visited that hospital again. Ever since then, he changed. You would always find him glaring off into the space, but you didn't know what. His eyes would sometimes turn really cold, and it scared you. Every time you asked, he would tell you it's nothing to worry about.

You found out he started leaving home in the middle of night. You didn't know where he went, and you didn't know if you should ask. One day he came back with a bottle of hair dye, and asked you to dye his hair. You didn't know why he wanted you to dye his hair. You liked it. It was a snowy white. But he told you to just do it.

You didn't like how things were going. You had a bad feeling in your stomach, and you were too afraid to ask him. However, those secret outings at night had you suspicious.

When you were sixteen, still working at that underground club, there was a man who came up to you. He grabbed you by the butt, and started saying really inappropriate things to you. "Hey little cutie. Why don't you come with me and we can go have some fun?"

Almost instantly he was thrown against the wall. It was Touya. Touya held the man by the throat with one hand, and in his other hand were the blue flames that nearly burned him to death five years ago. "I'll kill you!" Touya hissed at the man. 

"Touya no!" You cried as you threw your arms around the one he held with fire. He immediately put out the fire when you touched him, afraid to burn you again. "Don't!" The two of you were fired on the spot. However, as you guys walked out of the club, a tall man in black called out to you guys.

"Hey, you two. You two seem pretty capable. Wanna work for me?" he asked. Touya stopped and turned towards the man, but you held him by the arm. You knew all those people in there were criminals, and you wanted nothing to do with them. Working as a janitor is one thing, but working for criminals like him is another.

"Touya no...." you pleaded softly.

He looked at you with soft eyes, and smiled reassuringly. Then he turned to the man and said, "We'll think about it."

"Great. This is my business card. Come find me when you make up your mind."

Once the man was gone, you shouted at Touya. "Touya you can't! He's a criminal! We can't work for criminals!"

"You can't... But I can."

"What!? You can't!"

"We need the money (Y/N). Your leg has been getting worse by the day. I know you think you can just get by by taking pain killers, but you need treatment. Proper treatment. Not that shabby sketchy hospital, but a proper, big, hospital with clean facilities and good doctors!" He shouted. He was talking about the leg that got burnt that year when you saved him.

"It doesn't hurt Touya. It really doesn't. I don't want to work for bad guys. Please promise me you won't do it..." you pleaded.

He cupped you by the face, and pressed his forehead against yours. His beautiful teal orbs gazed into your (e/c) ones. You felt a hard thumping sound inside your chest. What is this feeling? A strange wave of heat rushed to your cheeks as you attempted to pull away, but he held you there. "I'm sorry (Y/N). I need to do this. For you....and for me." He couldn't tell you about the certain man he had been plotting to kill. He knew you'd try to talk him out of it. You were just too kind.

"You don't have to do this for me Touya, really. My leg is fine," you told him.

"It's not fine and we both know it. I can't see you in pain (Y/N). I really can't. I love you..." he whispered.

"What?"

"I said I love you. I want to be with you. Forever, always. I want to give you a normal life, just like how you've given me." He tilted his face and closed his eyes. You felt his chapped lips press softly against yours, and you stood still wide eyed. What is he doing? What were you two doing?! You just froze in place, not sure what to do. You've seen people do this lip touching thing in the club, and you thought it was gross. You never once thought that one day someone would do this to you. It felt...good... "(Y/N), do you love me?" he asked after he took his lips off of yours.

"I-....I don't know..." You were someone who grew up without love, so you didn't know what it was. You hear people say it all the time, and it sounds like the same thing as 'like,' but not quite the same.

"Do you want to be with me forever?" he changed the phrasing.

"Yes! I wanna be with you forever Touya. Just like the way we are now!"

"That's love (Y/N), but (Y/N), I don't want to stay the way we are now," he smiled. "I want better. I want better food, better house, I want you to walk without feeling pain. I want a world where we can live out in the open, where we don't have to hide. This world that has hurt us, don't you wanna change it?!"

"I-...." You had no idea what he was talking about. But one thing you did know. "I don't want to hurt people."

"You won't."

"You can't hurt people either," you said. "Promise?"

"I promise," Touya nodded as he intertwined his pinky with yours. You smiled softly at him, and he connected your lips once again.

He had to teach you from scratch what people do to show their love for one another. He didn't blame you for being so clueless, since you did practically grow up secluded from society. Slowly, he taught you how to use tongue, and he taught you how to make love.

Years passed.

You worked multiple part time minimum wage jobs to get by, and he would be out doing 'business' with that new boss of his. He would come home every other day with cash and food. You learned not to question what he does or how he got the stuff, simply because you were in no position to deny them. Deep down you knew your leg needed treatment, and maybe it was the excruciating pain, or maybe it was just your desire for that world he was always talking about, you turned a blind eye to the things he did.

You were in your early twenties when your leg completely gave out. He found you collapsed on the ground, unconscious. There were no words that could describe how he felt when he saw you laying there, almost motionless. He screamed your name until you woke up. You told him with a weak smile that you were okay, but you knew you'll never be okay. You couldn't walk anymore, so you could no longer work. No work, no income. You couldn't even tend to that small vegetable garden...

He told you not to worry, and that he would take care of it. He had saved up enough money by now. And he found a doctor he trusted, a doctor who promised to turn your legs back to normal.

Later you were admitted into a big hospital. You didn't know how he was able to get you admitted, since you didn't have an identification. However, you didn't ask. The doctor who tended to you was named Ujiko. He told you that you would be able to walk again once you finish surgery and rehabilitation.

Touya was busy with his work. He'd come to visit you in the hospital every once in a while, when he had the chance, but gradually you saw him less and less, and you missed him. You missed him a lot.

Surgery was a success, just as Ujiko promised. You were in the hospital for three months after surgery, rehabilitating and strengthening your newly repaired muscles.

When heroes started evacuating the hospital that day, you immediately knew something was wrong. And you knew it had to do with Touya. Despite never asking him, deep down you knew he was affiliated with bad people, and he did bad things. As long as he promised not to hurt innocent people you were okay with the things he potentially had to do to get by, but little did you know, that he had long broken the promise not to hurt others.

The man who groped you in the club, he killed him.

Your drug addict mother who beat you as a child, he found her and burned her alive.

Your murderer father was long dead, so there was nothing Dabi could do to him. He had made it a personal mission to kill every single person in this world that had wronged the two of you.

He was confident he hid everything from you. The things he did, the league he joined, everything. Yet why were you here? You were supposed to be in the hospital, safe. So why were you here in the midst of all the chaos?

"See ya, Hawks." He was just about to kill the hero, the one who just killed Twice. Just as he was about to increase the temperature of his fire and incinerate him for good, a large glacier of ice formed in between him and the winged man. His eyes widened, for he thought it was Shouto. That split second gave this teenage bird man just enough time to snatch Hawks and get out of here. Touya turned around and was about to throw fire at whoever messed up his plans. But his eyes widened when he saw you. You were still in that blue and white striped hospital gown, barefoot. He could see blood under your feet, probably from running over the sharp rocks and debris to get here. "Why? How did you know?"

"Touya.... Please.... Stop this," you pleaded. "No more killing."

At that point you had finally snapped out of your denial, and you faced the fact that you had guessed but never wanted to confirm. Touya was a murderer, a criminal, a villain...

Behind you, a man waved his knife. He probably thought you were a hero, and was going to kill you.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Touya blasted his fire at his comrade, and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you into his embrace so he could protect you from heroes and villains alike. "(Y/N), what are you doing here?!"

"Please Touya, let's just go. My legs are fine now! Let's leave this place! If it's you and me, we can definitely survive out there in the wild!" you pleaded. You grabbed his shirt in both hands, clinging onto him for your dear life. "Please! Please! I beg you!"

"It's too late now (Y/N). I can't turn back now." It was too late for him to let go of his hatred, to stop when he's so close to his goal. He had to do it. For him. For you.

You shook your head. It's not too late. You knew it wasn't too late. With your power and his, you two can get out of here easily. Escape to somewhere where no one can find you. "Touya...."

His eyes softened when he looked into your beautiful watery orbs. He gently locked his lips with yours, and placed his hands over your ears, as if trying to block out all the screaming and crying from your world. You deserve better. He'll give you better.

You felt him push something into your mouth with his tongue. Once he made sure you swallowed it, he pulled away from you face. "Sleep my love. By the time you wake up, you will be in a changed world." He smiled gently at you, the smile you gavr him, the smile he only showed you. Your head became hazy as your vision blacked. You fell limp into his arms, and you could no longer move a muscle. You weren't fully unconscious, you could still make out sounds, though they sounded muffled and staggered.

While you were out, you could hear him talk. You heard him talk about his identity, his past, the abuse, and his sins. Everything he hid from you all these years, you heard it through that half conscious state. Tears streamed down your closed lids as he uncovered the dark secrets of the hero society. You were the one who gave him this chance. You were the one who helped him regain speech. You were the one who helped him tear down this society. You were the one who replaced the lower jaw bone he had burned off.

Touya... Stop... This isn't what I want. I just want to be with you. That's it. Please Touya... Stop this madness.

Too late. He had already destroyed society. He was ready to burn the whole world down, and rebuild it for you. He will tear down this hellhole and build a heaven, a place where an angel like you belong.

Fin

A/N: if you liked this story please feel free to check out my wattpad for more BNHA oneshots!

https://my.w.tt/JT91aC2spbb

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[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 01

Wordcount: 1, 624 Rating: T for strong language Synopsis:  As the heir of the greatest cybernetic corporate giant of Twilight city, all you wanted was to abandon your familial responsibilities and live a normal life free from the public eye and unbeknownst to you, mercenaries. Your chance appears when a stoic cyborg rips you away from your ivory tower, holds you hostage, and demands your full compliance to his every wish-- all to help him steal a biochip rumored to be able to make the user immortal. It would cost him his humanity, but he would sacrifice anything to dismantle the sinister corporations that have turned the world into lawless wastelands and decayed capitalist hellholes. If he succeeds, so should you. Of course, that was assuming you two will remain as accomplices, that is. "For such a valuable prize you have pretty shit security." The reader is referred to as she/her.

01 - Home alone

Everything that could have gone wrong in history went wrong.

All of those events snowballed into the inevitable dark future. A new era of corruption, conflict, and the greatest perversion of humanity yet. Common species of fauna in the past became spectacles in museums, mere ghosts of biodiversity of the old ages.

Hell, the most “biodiverse” anybody could be now depended on how many bioware upgrades they could afford. But that wasn't the mania the world was obsessed with. Or rather, it was cyberware; cybernetic enhancements that replaced body parts and functions with technological counterparts.

It only used to be veterans with missing limbs that sought after robotic replacements. But now, enhancements were the new rage--to make fashion statements, or for self-defense as crime rates shot up. Corporations made a monopoly of it until their power and influence gave the government a run for their money.

You happened to have access to these technological spoils as the heir of Mizumoto optics, a corporate giant richer than God and pretty much the law itself. Of course, the mere thought of having to take responsibility for that one day was daunting. The science was easy. But business? It wasn't your thing, let alone an office job.

Not that you would tell your father, but even after completing numerous degrees for it, you wouldn't hesitate to take on another career. It could have been anything.

Even flipping burgers sounded more appealing at this point.

Unfortunately, the last thing you wanted was to disappoint him, and you had no plans for the meantime, so you decided to play along. For now. Putting on a façade of compliance, you would prepare yourself for another grueling day of secretary work for your old man. If you were lucky, some time in the labs. But he never liked having you in them, not as much as being his personal assistant, anyway.

It was good practice, he’d always say. Because one day, rather than keeping a diary of all his commitments and meetings, you would be attending to them personally. Whatever it was that he occupied himself with at night, it was none of your business. All he told you to focus on was everything done in the day. Especially when everybody could be watching. Whatever the hell that meant.

After your bodyguard dropped you off in your neighborhood, a luxurious and attractive district at the outer rim of the city, you hid your head in a hood to make your usual rounds to a local supermarket. This place wasn't completely shrouded in light pollution and smog.

If it weren’t for the fact it was run by an old friend of your dad’s, he wouldn’t have let you live alone.

Alone in a spacious, gated villa protected by the most advanced security system in the market and rigged with boobie traps. And it looked like all those precautions you took to prevent yourself from being shot in your living room paid off– you had been safe and sound in your home for at least two years now.

Who would’ve thought that streak would end so soon.

And when you could finally have some time off too.

Stepping inside the hallway that was pitch-black save for the silvery moonlight pouring in through the kitchen windows, you caught sight of a shadow in the living room. Strange. The lights usually turned on automatically whenever the house sensed your return.

But this time, it failed to do so. Narrowing your eyes at the silhouette that looked eerily human, you set your things down on the ground in a slow, hesitant thump. Before your heart could sink at the possibility of a break-in, you boiled it down to decorative furniture you stupidly left out.

But that was with the assumption you were somehow strong enough to move them around, as large as they were.

Your blood ran cold. What a wonderful time to realize you had no cyber enhancements at all. Just flesh and blood like God intended. You never gave in to your father insisting on upgrades for safety reasons, but at this very moment in time, you wished you listened. Especially when the shadow disappeared in the short time you took your eyes off of it.

The adrenaline finally set in, coursing through your veins as you took off to the nearest light switch. Flicking it open with heavy breaths, you glanced around where the silhouette was last seen. Of course, it was quick enough to move elsewhere, likely to pounce on you when you least expected it. It was like playing a game of cat and mouse.

“Not today.” You hissed under your breath, making a beeline to the kitchen. You shot your hand out to the bottom drawer. Pulling open the compartment to cause everything to slide in your direction, you grabbed the gun inside. There, you crouched behind the kitchen island and cocked the firearm. Then, you reached into your cell to call your bodyguard.

He couldn’t have gone far–-not when he was supposed to stay within one hundred meters of you at all times. It took a few failed attempts to reach him before you noticed there was no service. Not a single bar. In what dystopian society could you pay relative immortality, and yet, struggle to make a measly phone call in your own home?

Stuffing your phone back into your pocket with a frustrated huff, you bit your lip and opted to stay put. Rolling your head back to suck in a few sharp breaths, you gathered the courage to find the intruder.

Whoever it was, they were clearly enjoying this.

Turning to the side, your forehead came in contact with the barrel of a gun.

“For such a valuable prize, you have pretty shit security.” A voice remarked over you.

Your ears rang as panic took hold of you. The fear was so overwhelming you couldn't even look up to see who it was. So for the longest three seconds of your life, there was a stalemate as they held you hostage at the moment before death. When they sensed your compliance, they lowered the gun. It was a big mistake on their part.

Once the barrel was out of sight and pointed at the ground, you raised your hands and shot him.

Tilting his head to miss the bullet by the skin of his teeth, a fleshy line formed on his cheek. But there was no blood. Only a look of annoyance.

“Don’t bother resisting. You can’t win with a body like that.” He bent down to your level and grabbed ahold of your wrists before you could even attempt to run. While you thrashed like mad, he caught you in an intent stare to study your face.

A mere glimpse was enough to know what he was, a high-class cyborg. If not, an android. Someone you stood no chance against.

In fact, he looked more like metal than skin.

Whatever skin he had was flawless like porcelain, free from any scars or blemishes and discoloration. Was it even real? His charcoal pants were stained with blotches of black and brown. While his khaki military jacket was just as worn out, there was peculiar energy in those cerulean eyes of his. Unlike his clothes, the gaze he held on you was electric and unwavering. Restless, even.

“So you’re really her, aren’t you? I was surprised I was able to get to you so easily.”

You attempted to pull away again, but it was to no avail. So you shot him a dark glare.

“I figured. How the hell did you get in here anyway? You should’ve been blown apart the second you snuck in here.”

A smug smile cracked at his lips.

“Trade secret. But you should get the gist. You can do anything nowadays.” He spoke in a hum, tapping his temple with a finger. “Just as long as you buy the upgrade, that is.”

You couldn’t say his response caught you off guard. Or rather, you were disappointed in yourself that karma caught on so quickly.

“… I guess that’s why you caught me so easily. You’re cheating the game of evolution.”

Now that he loosened his grip around you, you could rip yourself away and stand up. That action only solidified your concerns. Whoever this man was, he was skilled. Arrogant. If not, why was he acting relaxed around you when you had a loaded gun in your hands?

He breathed out a dry chuckle.

“Don’t know about cheating. Maybe if I stole everything, but this is a result of intelligence and self-indulgence. Typical human things.”

You folded your arms and gave him a hard stare.

“Whatever. What are you doing here, anyway? What do you want from me? Are you gonna kidnap me and ask for a ransom?” In all honesty, it was nothing but a façade. Everything in your life was. Behind that strong face you were mustering was nothing but pure terror.

He turned his back on you with his hands on his hips.

“No, but you’re giving me ideas.” Freezing up at that, he swiveled back to you with a grin. “Relax. I was just kidding. As much as I’d like to do that, I have more important things to do.” You let out a small sigh of relief, but even that was cut short by what he then added.

Walking up to you with an unreadable expression, he leaned into your ear. Immediately, the feeling of his hot breath against the side of your face triggered your flight or fight response. Pressing your hands against his rock-hard chest, you gave him a light shove. He didn't budge.

“No, please-”

“I’ll kidnap you without the ransom part. Sound cool?”

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #aph #Axis powers ヘタリア #Axis Powers Hetalia #fanfiction #aphamerica #america x reader #reader insert #alfred f jones #cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #scifi #science fiction #dystopia #Hetalia Fanfiction #alfredosauce50

[ronnytherandom]

Only A Few Things But A Lot To Say On Some

1/2/2021: Ponyo

Beautiful. Holy shit. The best stuff. Everything in this is so lovely, it brought me to tears. I can barely put into words just how much I enjoyed this film. Aside from the Standard Ghibli Rules, it has moments of exceptional humanity which really push this film to its own level; everyone’s just so nice to each other. This might be my favourite Ghibli film.

2/2/2021: The Prince of Egypt

Really very good. Technically impressive all around. The art is beautiful, the VA is impressive and the music is powerful. Its even powerfully emotional at moments, especially just after they cross the Red Sea. I think notably here the integration of CG effects with the animation has aged quite well which helps moments such as the Red Sea climax remain especially impactful, I especially enjoyed Moses’ revelation scene where the animation is in the style of New Kingdom Egypt inscriptions, I felt that was an interesting style to animate and it reminded me of the classical Greek vase style of animation employed in Apotheon, a game I adore. The music is a key aspect and I think there are a couple of issues but I have mainly praise. Some of the numbers are not so memorable but at least they’re not actively bad; I feel Deliver Us does a fantastic job of carrying the rest of the film. Similarly it exemplifies the excellent Hebrew singing which I absolutely love the presence of, to a degree where I wish there had been more. Obviously this is lacking purely because it’s a film designed for western English audiences but I feel like the music could have been even better with a wider adoption of Hebrew vocals. There are also the excellent bridges in a couple of pieces which really feel like regional music and help root the film in its north African setting. I do feel however that the film suffers for appearing in the era where animated musicals were changing the format a little and I think the songs could do to be sung “physically” in the film with more consistency. Imagine how much more powerful the final scenes would be if you could see the Hebrews singing rather than simply waving random instruments around. I think this film also does an excellent job in not whitewashing a Jewish story as much as is typically found in western Christianity. I can’t speak to the hiring of white actors for Jewish and Egyptians roles as I do not know the casts nationality but I think that a western production portraying a non-white Moses would be notable in Christian media even by present standards.

4/2/2021: Corpse Bride

Wonderful, short and sweet and masterfully done. Id argue that every aspect of this film demonstrates excellence, VA through animation through directing through soundtrack. Especially the soundtrack, Mr Elfman is the MVP as per usual; I’m going to have this theme stuck in my head for hours. This is in no small part due to the sheer star power of the production, so many big names, though above all others it is a joy to hear Christopher Lees voice. The plot doesn’t bore as it is always moving; to be expected given the short run time but it isn’t so fast paced as to be overbearing. I feel the musical moments aid in that regard by effectively extending moments of exposition over longer periods than would be achieved merely through dialogue while adding a lot of fun. I think its evident that a lot of fun was also had in designing the characters and using undead qualities to create fun gimmicks though I wonder where on earth all the women’s organs are supposed to be? The humour is very good, very dry, but I like that. I don’t think anything falls flat. And I really appreciate the message about not always sticking to the plan and about finding your own way in a world that strives to constrain you, rolling with the punches and not letting misfortune and mistakes keep you down.

7/2/2021: Star Wars Battlefront 2 (2017, 14 hours inc. Resurrection DLC)

This is a good game with some problems, mostly minor though. Thankfully I didn’t play it while it was a hellhole of microtransactions but the legacy of that policy can still be felt. While it is good that all abilities and cosmetics are unlocked pretty much from the get go or after a couple hours of gameplay the “live service and microtransactions” design philosophy often creates an inefficient UI which manifests as all the character menus being a bit of a chore to work through especially when unlocking new abilities. The animations are nice but get old very quickly and id rather just have the damn thing. There is also that the story is pretty weak in both the main game and the dlc. Missions don’t feel like they play into a wider arc. There was certainly the potential to have a thoughtful examination of Iden Versio’s deradicalisation but it isn’t built as a slow process and doesn’t create any drama, she simply flips to the Good Guys pretty much immediately and I think that’s a shame as the story they’ve actually decided to tell is very weak given that it occurs almost entirely in 2 cutscenes and the rest of everything is just plot and events with no real purpose except to facilitate gameplay. There is also the issue of nostalgia where every other level of the story is a “remember this?” moment which serve simply as set pieces and a facsimile of what once was with Supermarket Own Brand versions of the OG characters. Resurrection is not much better but it is better, and I think its testament to the fact that the inferno squad actors were genuinely trying as it’s the only point of the story where I felt even a tinge of emotional rapport. There are some minor gameplay gripes, like why on earth does the game keep changing my loadout between levels and then provide a chest to alter then when it could in fact just use a preparation menu before the mission starts. Maybe also something should be done about enemies spawning in sight or even immediately behind you? Minor gripes aside the gameplay is solid and satisfying. Characters feel good to move with, guns are fun to shoot (though they don’t really differ too much in identity) and abilities feel impactful. I adore the idea behind the little reloading minigame, I think that is superb, as well as other additions to the battlefront format such as the expansion of class roles and abilities. Most of the heroes are very fun to play as, especially anyone with a jetpack, but I protest at the consistent failure to bring jedi into videogames. You just need to refer to the Jedi Knight games; it hasn’t been done better since. As is its fine but underwhelming. I think from a gameplay standpoint everything comes together as beautifully as the visuals but everything around it needs a little bit more attention.

#ponyo #prince of eqypt #corpse bride #star wars battlefront 2 #star wars #film #animation #video games #opinion #i dont know what im doing

[xfulldreamerx]

Why it's important for Peru's youth to have a Skam remake

Disclaimer: This is an informal essay. I'm not basing any of this on scientific studies, but in my own and other's personal experiences and general knowledge as Peruvian teenagers.

Being a Peruvian teenager is hard, as in every other country in the world. There's few to no representation of the LGBT+ Community, and the Feminism is so criticized and forced on screen that true attempts to make it work are drowned by TV companies who just want to achieve a social agenda that will get them more viewers. We have grown up in a society where, thought it's true that working women are everywhere, a lot of them still think that their children have to ask the father for permission. The political crisis is bigger than ever, with a now non-existent Congress because it was mostly conformed by the opposition political party and didn't want to approve a law that would assure gender approach and sexual education on public and private schools (and that's only the peak of the iceberg). Religion has a great deal to do with that: it's influence is so big here that people can’t get proper education on important matters, such as sexuality, gender equality, civilism and social science.

However, youth is rising. When the Congress tried to approve a law that meant superior institutes students would work for free for almost three years, the march that prevented it was huge and unstoppable. When the most shameful judicial scandal of our history was unveiled, we young people were on the streets, demanding a reorganization of the National Court. Marches and protests are an essential and constantly present event on our daily lives now, even if not all of us participate in them. Chile and Bolivia - not to mention Venezuela - have bigger and and more notorious issues, but that doesn’t make our country invisible. You will never hear a single Peruvian saying that they’re proud of their country because of its Government. We all talk about our delicious food (‘Best culinary destiny of the world!’) and our breathtaking touristic places (Peru: the world’s catalog!’). We always complain about politics and society, thought. Peru is a racist, misogynist, homophobic country who says is inclusive and loves its culture, but has so much centralization that most people don’t know and don’t care about what’s happening outside the capital, Lima. We scream that we’re one of the most biodiverse countries on earth, but not that we're also the least ranked country in Latin America regarding education. In fewer words, were hypocrites.

Now imagine you’ve grown up in this environment: nationalism and occidentalization is everywhere, you say you’re proud of your country because that’s what your family taught you, and, suddenly, you’re thrown into reality. Peru is beautiful, but so wasted that you notice it’s all an act. Mining and external private investments represent the highest economic income, but that money is not well used and the contamination is killing children of blood and lungs diseases. Education in public primary and secondary schools is a joke. There’s a lot of good public colleges, but they’re so inside politics that corruption has rotten their roots and young people do whatever they can to attend private colleges instead.   We all wish to get out of this hellhole of a country, and our parents want us to - it's the least we can do, because Peru has no remedy. We're a third world, underdeveloped country, and that's never going to change because people is ignorant and do nothing to invest themselves into politics or society issues. It's sad, and frustrating, so you just want to finish studying, get a job and then fly out of here.

Daily life is another matter. Middle class is the biggest population here, with poverty close at 20 percent or something like that. That means some of us can afford food and some vanities, but not in excess. Supermarkets exist, but markets more common, often visited by middle-low class house wifes who only go to Metro and Plaza Vea - famous supermarkets chains here - when they want to show off or have additional income. Teenagers are so surrounded by American culture and European expectations that save money to shop on the mall and drink Starbucks. Believe me when I say those things are expensive here, because they are. We all want the most cliché stuff you can imagine: Adidas clothes, Converse shoes, Ariana Grande songs and Corona beers. I know that's a lot of generalization, but that's our perception of American and European culture: you're advanced, sophisticated and beautiful. Indigenous people leave their customs and traditions because they wish to be accepted by us, wanna-be's. We teach them to speak Spanish and then English, to dress 'properly' with t-shirts and pants, to not paint their faces and vanish their accent as much as possible. Teenagers are the firsts to fall for all that bullshit, because we think it will make us fit into society seamlessly.

Now, don't get me wrong. We have also learned to respect, but all the unconscious racists and homophobic comments are said too many times as joke to state that we've changed. As I mentioned before, education does anything for this, and a lot of families are very closed-minded. We're raised to believe in heteronormativity and white supremacy as if they were natural laws. Many of us are short, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, so every time we see a tall, blond and blue-eyed person we are awed and have this desire to be like them - they are more accepted, you know, cooler. Our indigenous heritage is something shameful, so that's why we say we're 'half-bloods': yes, we descend from the Incas, but also from Spanish conquerors, so it's all fine. Teenagers dance to reggaeton and pop, but almost none of them to huayno or saya, typical and amazing Peruvian dances. We value our culture, but distance ourselves from it. This new and modern generation is meant to be global, so we don't have to pay attention to them. We drink and smoke, we party and talk about Netflix shows. See? We're like you!

I don't know if my goal of making every person who reads this understand Peruvian context was accomplished. Nowadays, all TV is filled with the same Mexican Telenovelas copies, long, dramatic and unrealistic series that exaggerate society, and trash reality shows that are meant to give us pointless and cheap entertainment. All our pop culture (like going to a minimarket called Tambo and going home on microbuses) is forgotten, avoided, because they'll show the neglected streets, dirty sidewalks and all the other stuff that would put in evidence that we're not as pretty or exotic as the rest of the world thinks. A gay couple who dares to walk and kiss in public is told to leave that place. Sexual assault is diminished and not punished. Islam is almost non-existent and very judged. We need Skam because young people need the representation that awesome show would give us. They could talk about politics because we're also starting to, about feminism because the young women here are not ashamed of it anymore (for the most part), about the LGBT+ Community because homophobic marches and and gender discrimination are allowed and normalized, about other religions besides christianity because the church has to stop it's influence on the Government. My hope for Skam here comes from the wish of a country who is inclusive, multi-colored and respectful of it's multiculturalism. The need of something that shows us as we truly are, flawed but with the possibility of change, is bigger than ever.

#skam #skam italy #skam france #skam españa #skam germany #druck #skam belgium #wtfock #skam nl #skam austin #skam peru #peru

[anthonybialy]

Settled Virus

You’ve been kept safe, according to those who kept you in danger. The virus narrative’s been proclaimed in defiance of evidence, which makes it like every rumor about what to fear and how to stop it. Have you selflessly tried breathing through a surgical mask wrapped in a bandana?

Making up the story is just another irony those who claimed to save us from the zombie plague haven’t embraced. It’s tough for action heroes to pause and appreciate literary themes. Also, these Schwarzeneggers seemed to aim their awesome weapons at those they were saving quite frequently, as it’s also a challenge to maintain barrel direction. Don’t criticize your rescuers over petty details.

It’s your fault everyone’s sick. Feel guilty for your selfish existing. Blaming humans for outrageous activities such as employment and acquiring energy is totally not distracting from how the real source of viral carnage was Democratic governors shoving every patient zero they could find into nursing homes.

Giving the Grim Reaper a 5-hour Energy may have been a poor way to protect life. Are you telling me the same people who thought bringing the sick and elderly together was a good idea don’t understand market forces?

Asking why the death toll was so high is the sort of subversive independent thought that’s not guarding the hive. Sure, this sort of illness is particularly dangerous to the elderly who require assisted living. Andrew Cuomo’s orders dropped napalm on tinder factories, which he’ll leave out of his riveting book that’s definitely nonfiction. States with particularly bossy governors just so happened to be the center of the Target logo. I naturally blame Donald Trump.

Eschewing personal responsibility is personal for politicians who blame the public for their own atrocious choices. Today’s flailing putzes in state capitals would’ve blamed citizens for not growing vegetables fast enough during World War II. You’d wear a hazmat suit if you weren’t a virus fan.

It will remain an eternal mystery how six feet became precisely the right distance to preserve humanity. Five is committing murder. Those who’ve noticed arbitrary makeshift commands from elected lawyers aren’t precisely scientific are also aware of the effect on those who weren’t susceptible to infection, namely not enough to close life for most of a year. But at least halting civilization didn’t save lives.

Obeying evidence begins with harassing supermarket patrons who’ve noticed the medical professionals wearing masks do so in a sterile environment around sick people. Parties daring to patronize a restaurant should be treated like the Manson family. And serial killers stalk campuses in the form of college parties, as if cooped-up 19-year-olds should be expected to not develop social skills and alcohol tolerance after months under curfew.

Those spreading a false narrative about a real pandemic condemn routine activities just like how they ignored how exposing grandparents to lepers may have been as unhealthy as it was unwise. They will disregard what happens next for identical reasons.

Very research-focused liberals love pretending Texas and Florida are hellholes in non-virus years. They now portray states that dare not to hassle residents as toxic zombie outbreaks. Poor unenlightened and unguarded residents spend days ducking bullets only to be felled by a virus. Sure, the death rates are way lower than in noted harsh libertarian hellhole New York City. But paying attention to what’s happening would mean having to change ideologies, and nobody wants to make new friends this deep into the semester.

The greatest cold indicator is who’s fleeing where. Electoral votes tell the truth in a way blaming states with low crime for not having enough gun control spreads a lie.

Population redistribution is particularly amusing in the year we’re counted. Liberals adore demanding census compliance so they can plunder the Treasury with what they risibly consider their fair share. Meanwhile, their mooching power is diluted as the exploited spend the last bit of savings that haven’t been confiscated on U-Hauls to already-packed Texas lots. The direction of permanent travel can’t be denied, like which states had the worst death rates. Cuomo is going to be so surprised by how New York lost population this time.

We’ll define 2020 by its lack of definition. Humanity has idled for most of the year slowing the spread. It’s the longest two weeks imaginable. Sitting still may have ruined the economy and need to socialize, but at least it didn’t help. Bend the curve just like all that federal spending destroyed poverty. Unilateral emergency orders are another endless government program. But you must relinquish control so you can not feel better.

Why not elect a cure? Joe Biden would halt the virus by winning, as Barack Obama benevolently shared his magical powers by shaking his erstwhile underling’s hand. We just need to obey science, which is apparently good according to the candidate’s tweets. Conduct research by treating experts who happen to be government employees as prophets. The real cure would involve the media not covering what they classify as Trump’s virus anymore.

Liberal politicians have to pretend they don’t enjoy telling everyone what to do. Noting it doesn’t seem to work out ever is useless when citizens must obey by semi-law. Their visions must be good if their orders have to be mandatory. There’s a reason politicians don’t pursue private sector success, namely that nobody will obey awful ideas voluntarily. Why do you think they loathe business? Like a scorpion stinging at the precise wrong time, it’s in their nature to boss around.

Today’s goofy restriction keeps Korean War veterans from being KIA by contagion, you independent ghoul. Democrats believe they’re saving existence itself, which is why they’re so fervid about implementation. Everyone in opposition is therefore logically for death. The monsters are just slightly more demonic when the issue involves a virus and not net neutrality. Sickos who didn’t keep us from being sick have everything on their side but outcomes.

[devnny]

CHAPTER TEN.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

CHAPTER 10!!! THE BIG ONE-OH! this fic is officially classified “burn as slow as FUCK”

i hope the long awaited reveal is not disappointing. and coherent. this chapter’s a mess ghgnjdkagbj i’m laughing again GOD. and thank you all again for your kind comments and messages and sticking with me this long!!!

Johnny fidgeted his heels against the carpeted floor of Devi’s sedan, uncertain about why they were going on another outing so soon after their last. They had only returned home long enough to put away all of their newly acquired foodstuffs, then Devi had ushered him right back out to the car. He had intended to make dinner again – something more elaborate than instant meals or canned soup, as an apology for his severe misstep tonight – but Devi informed him that dinner could wait, with a rather content smile on her face, he noted.

And she did seem happy now, too, which made him very uneasy.

Devi wasn’t so quick to forgive, and yet she was driving and singing along with the music that she had on at a deafening volume, smirking at nothing from time to time. She looked very sure about something, and Johnny couldn’t imagine what it was.

As they pulled into the parking lot of All-Mart, he guessed that her smile was because she intended to torture him with a trip through a wretched DEPARTMENT STORE.

“Devi… why are we here? I don’t want to go into that revolting Hellhole.” Johnny hid halfway behind the frame of the door as he looked out the window at all the people that were still out shopping, even at this moderately late hour – moderately late for people that slept, anyway.

“Just wanted to look at a couple of things.” Devi answered smoothly as she clicked the engine off. Johnny’s frown warbled unconfidently, but he had little choice besides joining Devi as she exited the car.

He hunched slightly while they walked, moving ever-closer to Devi as they passed more and more people – awful, contemptable people! That has to be her intention; to punish him further for his outburst at the supermarket. And here he thought that he was the expert in inflicting agony.

The inside of the store was so bright and horrible, he couldn’t stand it. The intercom boasted a disgustingly sweet, fake-positive woman’s voice, that continuously repeated commercials for the store’s bargains and sales – what was the POINT of that? They were already IN the store, there was no need to advertise further!! It made Johnny twitch and glower in annoyance, which Devi took notice of, but then made no attempt to ease his nerves.

Devi hated department stores almost as much as Johnny did, but only felt giddiness from the idea that had hatched in her mind earlier. She turned them into the Baby section of the store, and resisted the urge to wrap her arm around Johnny’s neck to make sure he didn’t go far while she browsed. Johnny, now almost in a full crouch as he shuffled backwards beside her, had no intention of moving even an inch further from her side, out of fear and contempt for his surroundings. He hardly even registered that they were in an aisle coated with different options for teething rings and burb-bibs.

With her eyes moving back to watch Johnny every so often, Devi searched the shelves until she found what she so desired; a toddler harness. Johnny was so thin that one might actually fit on him, with the right adjustments. And if it cut into his underarms, that would be tough shit!

She plucked one off of a hook to examine it closer. It was a cute little piggy, and had the clasps and leash attachment that she was so very interested in. Even if she was certain that Johnny could figure out how to unbuckle it, she hoped that his spur-of-the-moment rush toward a target would alert her that he was up to something, and she could stop him before he did anything more. For once she was thankful that he was so single-minded when he was hungry for violence.

Devi had all but decided to buy the harness, until she turned it around and saw the price tag.

Thirty-five FUCKING dollars.

She recoiled her head back, as though it physically pained her to purchase something so stupid for such an equally stupid price. There was no way that she was going to drop that kind of cash on a dumbass little piggy-thing after she just had to blow a hundred or so dollars on groceries! It wasn’t like the freelance gigs were rolling in with a steady stream of money!

Surely there had to be a cheaper alternative, she thought, as she dug through the different brands of baby attachments. She was dismayed to find anything cheaper was made of material that looked like it could barely keep an infant subdued, let alone an adult maniac. Devi sighed in annoyance.

One of her fingers ticked away at the digits on her opposite hand as she mentally tallied the money that should be left in her checking account, debating if she had enough to spare for this and still make rent. Just as she was considering dipping into her cushion of “disaster fund” money – Johnny was arguably just as much of a disaster as a broken-down car, or an impromptu bone fracture – the glitter of metal clasps on the aisle across from them caught her eye.

Devi tilted her head towards the Pet section with renewed interest.

The new idea that her brain was constructing was almost too cruel, but she was beyond caring about if or how Johnny’s ego would suffer at this point. She waved her hand near Johnny’s face to rouse him from his paranoia, then walked across the aisle, slow enough that she could make certain Johnny was following her. Johnny jolted at being left behind for even a second, and scampered after her in a mild panic. He took his spot behind Devi again, and began ringing his hands together in an effort to ease himself, seeing as Devi wasn’t offering him any such kindness.

Devi nodded approvingly that he had stayed close, then went to work inspecting the various dog collars and leashes that decorated the wall. She took a sturdy looking leash off of its hook, and sprung the clasp a few times with her thumb. A smile grew on her face the more she played with it – this might offer even better control than a toddler harness. After all, this was supposed to be for a massive dog, not a little wobbly baby.

She flipped the packaging around, and was unbothered by the modest $8.99 price tag. While it was still more than Devi was willing to spend on pet supplies, for something as simple as this, she knew where to go to get it at a price that she could afford.

--

A LOCAL DOLLAR STORE:

“This is just as good.” Devi boasted, relishing in the rare sensation of triumph as she held up her choices; a black dog collar and its matching black leash. Johnny stood at her side, one finger on his lip in befuddlement.

“Do you have a dog?” He asked. They hadn’t lived together long, but he hadn’t seen nor heard any indications that Devi had a dog. He wondered if she was planning on getting one – a large one, by the looks of it – to keep him in check, or for some other nefarious plot to coerce him to comply with her wishes. Devi looked at him with a shine in her eyes and an excited smile that disturbed him slightly.

Johnny followed behind her as she bought the two items in question, puzzling all the way about what evil purpose she had in mind for them. Clearly there was nothing normal about this purchase, if her response was so bizarre. They walked out to the front of the store, and Devi stopped him before he could move out of the overhead lights’ reach. She was too eager to wait until they got home to fit the collar on him, and wanted to instead give the whole system a test run tonight.

“Come here.” She spoke with a smile, urging him to face her. Johnny did as he was told, and watched her unclasp the collar with the leash draped over her elbow. Devi adjusted the collar until it was as tight as she could make it, then moved to put it on him.

Johnny’s spine straightened with paralyzing static as Devi’s wrists brushed over each of his shoulders, and he stood taut and motionless while she worked to fasten the collar on his neck.

He could barely comprehend what she was doing when she was standing so painfully close, and his heart quickened in the confusion, able to do little else besides push hot blood to his face. As her hands moved to the front of his throat, Johnny arched his neck back and away, trying desperately to distance himself from the tantalizing proximity of Devi’s person to his. He kept his focus on the sky, begging anything up there to interest his mind more than the woman mere inches away.

Just as his turmoil felt like it was going to take him off the rails, a click! and soft tug distracted him, and he looked down to realize fully that Devi had just put a dog collar on him.

“WH—” Johnny baulked at his unwanted accessory. “DEVI, WHAT—”

“Oh, I don’t want to hear it from you, Captain of the Skull Bludgeoning Committee.” She pointed at him, though her smug smile remained.

Johnny scowled in embarrassment, but just as he was going to rant to her that he was not a fucking dog, and that he demanded more respect than this, and that this was completely humiliating, Devi brought a hand up and looped her finger into his collar, tugging him forward and unintentionally garbling any of the words that he had prearranged for her. She stuck her tongue out, pleased, as she clicked the leash’s clasp onto the ring of the collar.

“There we go.” Devi hummed. Johnny looked down to the black lead that now attached his neck firmly to Devi’s fist, and couldn’t help but find the observation both terrifying and comically befitting.

“Come, maniac.” Her voice caught his attention again. She chuffed and turned to walk down the sidewalk. “I think we deserve some tacos for this little excursion!”

“Oooh, tacos.” Johnny’s eyes grew shiny and wide, and he trailed after her eagerly at the prospect of a yummy, greasy dinner. He tucked away his lingering resentment, and vowed to bring it up later, once they were home and full of food. He might have a better shot at convincing her once she’s eaten something.

--

DAYS LATER:

“…Is this really Devi?” Tenna asked into her phone skeptically.

“What—yes, it’s me.”

“I don’t recall the Devi I know asking me to go outside WILLINGLY in at LEAST a year. Maybe LONGER.” Her voice grew even more incredulous, and she tumbled Spooky in her hands while she debated if her friend had been probed by aliens, or replaced by an android. Devi scoffed.

“You can just say you don’t want to go. I was just going to take Johnny… out. Y’know. Maybe go see a movie, eat among the masses. Something disgusting like that.” She replied.

“Is this a date thing?” Tenna asked. She could almost feel the cold aura expelling off of Devi through the receiver of her phone, and she snickered. “Ok, so not a date thing. What is it then?”

“Just a little test of his will again, that’s all.” Devi hummed, and one of Tenna’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the rather happy tone in her voice. Very, very strange.

“Oo-okayyy…” Tenna drew out, then regathered her standard chipper attitude. “OKAY! I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“But… you’re closer to the ground floor. Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to meet you down—”

“SEE YA IN A BIT!” She laughed and hung up, leaving Devi with no option but to wait for her.

--

Devi stepped out of her room, newly dressed and rubbing a towel on her still-damp hair. Every time she had to wash it, she reminded herself that it would need to be cut soon – even with her hair barely past her jaw, it was still too long for her taste. Too annoying to manage.

She turned her attention to Johnny, who was sitting with his knees up on the couch, watching TV. Devi’s self-satisfied smile returned – she had been wearing it an awful lot lately. Johnny wasn’t too keen on going out tonight, besides the fact that they would be going to the Camera, but Devi was excited to put him through another trial-run with the leash.

Eating out at a taco shop was one thing, and she certainly felt more at ease with him tethered to her, but it was hardly enough to prove that it would work consistently. She hoped that some dumbass at the theater or on the street would give him a reason to lunge, and then she could really give this new mechanic a test.

Johnny looked up as she approached, and smiled against himself at how nice she looked. He liked all her outfits, but she dressed differently when she was leaving the house.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked casually.

“Almost, just need to tie up my hair.” Devi replied, then went to ask him the same, when a new, uneasy thought came to her.

There was only one bathroom in the apartment, and seeing as it was conjoined to her bedroom, Johnny was never in it when she was asleep. And she couldn’t recall, in all the times she was conscious with him at home, which was always now, Johnny ever using her bathroom to shower. Devi’s eyelid wiggled.

“Johnny… do you—” She didn’t know how to ask this gently. “Have you bathed since you moved in?”

Johnny stared at her incredulously.

“Yes, of course.” He shrugged her comment off. “I just wash my head in the kitchen sink. And then scrub my arms and things with a dish rag, or what-have-you.”

That’s how he preferred to bathe when he lived alone too, unless he was completely covered in some disgusting fluid like blood or mud. Being naked to shower was unpleasant, and he tried to avoid it as much as he could, preferring instead to meticulously scrub and scrape away dirt and dead skin with his hands – gloved hands, unless otherwise impossible.

Devi stared at him in horrified disgust.

“UP.” She yelled at him, and yanked him up into a standing position. Johnny barely had a chance to steady himself before Devi was rushing him toward her room. He panicked.

Her bedroom was the only part of the apartment that he was still unfamiliar with, and for good reason; it was Devi’s domain. It was the most ‘Devi’ room of all the rooms in the entire world, and it made him nervous and awed to be inside it. Every time he had to use the restroom, he hurried in and out as quickly as he could, and tried not to look at anything too long, as though Devi would be aware of him snooping in her personal things.

His body lurched a little as Devi pushed him past the threshold of her bedroom door, and he skidded on the carpet the rest of the way.

“WAIT, WAIT!” Johnny called, but his cries fell on repulsed, deaf ears.

“TAKE A SHOWER.” Devi ordered him and threw him inside, shutting the door as a loud ‘period’ at the end of her sentence. “UGH… Disgusting…!”

Johnny stood in a crouch with his wrists crossed, looking around unconfidently at the four walls of the bathroom as though they were his prison. A sharp knock startled him.

“I’ll leave your clothes to change into outside the door!”

He frowned, then frowned more when he heard her bedroom door close too. A grimace crawled over his mouth, but again, he was compelled to do as Devi said.

--

Devi slouched in her armchair, pigtails upright now, rolling her ankle over her knee in annoyance. She should have realized he hadn’t properly bathed in weeks, but why was that even up to her to handle? He should have asked her to use the shower! What kind of goblin was he that he didn’t shower?

The door to her room clicked open, and Johnny stepped out, a wide, moping frown on his face, like a child that had been forced to eat his broccoli. He was dressed in the outfit she picked out, and held his dirty clothes in a ball out in front of him with both hands.

“Where can I put these to dry?” Johnny asked. “Should I just leave them in the sink?”

Devi’s eyebrow twitched in disbelief as she realized that the wad of clothing was soaking wet.

“…WHY…” She took in a deep breath. “Why are your other clothes WET?”

“I showered with them on, and then changed into these.” Johnny replied, as thought it was obvious. Devi thought she might have a hernia.

“NNY you are the WEIRDEST FUCKER on EARTH, I swear to GOD!!” She exclaimed, fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she stared out across the other side of the room. Johnny frowned in surprise.

“I don’t see why that’s so WEIRD—”

“Don’t even… Do not.” Devi pinched her fingers closed on each hand, a gesture for him to shut his mouth. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Just… next time, try taking your clothes off… BEFORE getting in the shower.”

“If you’re worried I didn’t wash my body that’s not—” Johnny huffed.

“Ah. Ah.” Devi held up a hand and exhaled. “I don’t want to know, it’s fine. Just hang your clothes over the fucking… shower curtain. Thanks.”

Johnny’s brow creased in annoyance; he didn’t want her to think he was unhygienic! He was very clean! It’s not like she noticed he hadn’t ‘properly’ bathed because he smelled musty and gross; he couldn’t even bear the repugnant stench of B.O. himself.

He harrumphed, and returned to the bathroom to hang his damp clothes, leaving Devi alone to rub her forehead wearily. Her quiet was short-lived.

Devi could hear Tenna’s door slam even from two floors up, and rolled her eyes at her friend’s overexuberance. Hopefully Johnny didn’t filet someone and ruin all of her fun for the evening. She got up and moved to her room to grab her long coat, meeting Johnny halfway. He lingered, unsure if he should stay inside her room or not, but Devi didn’t seem to mind. She slid her jacket on, then turned to give him a once over.

“There, don’t you look all nice and polished.” Devi smiled at him, observing as she did that he’d bothered to comb his hair post-shower. Johnny’s mouth vanished at the sudden compliment, then slowly returned with a broad grin.

“Oh, thank you.” He felt himself relax some, and folded his hands behind his back. As long as Devi was pleased with his efforts, any annoyances he had with her requests paled in comparison to the reward.

The door shook to life with a series of energetic knocks, drawing their attention to it. Johnny stared at the door with minor hostility, but lowered his eyelids in boredom as Tenna’s voice resounded on the other side.

“DEVI-I-I, I’M HE-ERE!” She sung. Johnny grumbled, and Devi chuckled a little at his response.

“You’ll have to keep me sane.” She commented to him quietly as she moved to answer the door, and Johnny blinked in surprise from the tone of camaraderie in her voice. It made him feel strange; almost hopeful that their friendship could be stabilizing to some degree. Exciting!

“DEVI!” Tenna squealed as the door opened. “This is so EXCITING!”

Johnny watched Tenna’s dancing with more suspicion, and skulked behind Devi for safety. Devi laughed, and moved to fish Johnny’s collar out of the deep pocket of her coat.

“Relax, you’re scaring my maniac.” A snide chuckle, and she turned to Johnny to loop the constraint around his neck. He felt less anxious about the action now that he was expecting it, but it still overstimulated his being too much for his liking, and he tilted his chin up high to ignore it.

Tenna stared at the scene before her with wide, mildly terrified eyes.

“Okay.” Devi said as she clicked the collar shut. “Where’d I throw that leash?”

“It’s in the kitchen…” Johnny answered, a little begrudgingly. His attempts to convince her to not use this new restraint tactic of hers had gone absolutely nowhere. Devi thanked him and went to retrieve it.

“UM.” Tenna managed out of her shock. Johnny brought his shoulders up to his ears as he crossed his arms.

Devi returned with what Tenna was haunted to see was, as assumed, a literal dog leash. She attached it to Johnny’s collar and gave it a couple gentle tugs to make sure everything was secure.

“—WHAT AM I WATCHING HERE?” Tenna yelled, throwing her arms in the direction of the pair that was causing her so much emotional and mental distress. “IS THIS SOME KINDA BDSM THING?”

Devi and Johnny shot her matching looks of concern and disgust.

“NO. Jesus!” Devi wound the end of the leash around her knuckles. “This is how I’m keeping him in line when we go out now, since he can’t—” She threw Johnny a quick glare. “—CONTROL HIMSELF.”

Johnny sulked at the floor, but made no move to correct her. Tenna took a second to process what she was being told, looking between them and the leash a few times.

“…OOH.” She said finally. “THAT’S why you want to go out tonight, isn’t it!? To test… whatever this is!”

Internally, Devi cursed Tenna for her inability to be covert, but outwardly she smiled confidently.

“Not at all!” She spoke with a grin. “We’re just going to the movies. C’mon, Nny.”

Devi gave his leash a soft pull to urge him forward, and she led Johnny into the hallway with no resistance. Tenna poked her lips out curiously, but knew better than to try and figure out Devi’s convoluted plans at this point. She stepped outside and allowed Devi to lock the door, then enthusiastically led the way out of the building.

--

NEXT.

#jthm #jtrm #im in tears over this bullshit ass chapter oh my god #seriously... thank you all for the support #onward to hell #mine #devnny #chapter

[babyawacs]

@crayon78848049 highfive! #meghan+#harry  youare an organic extension of #british local supermarket opening @RoyalFamily @KensingtonRoyal  why don t they see they suffocate what is generally well liked and interest  butn ot as selling cheap grievances but to represent and create uk honor+dignity

@crayon78848049 highfive! #meghan+#harry  youare an organic extension of #british local supermarket opening @RoyalFamily @KensingtonRoyal  why don t they see they suffocate what is generally well liked and interest  butn ot as selling cheap grievances but to represent and create uk honor+dignity

@crayon78848049 highfive! #meghan+#harry youare an organic extension of #british local supermarket opening @RoyalFamily @KensingtonRoyal why dont they see they suffocate what is generally well liked and interest butnot as selling cheap grievances but to represent and create uk honor+dignity I am Christian KISS BabyAWACS – Raw Independent Sophistication #THINKTANK + #INTEL #HELLHOLE…

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[maandags]

What One Night Can Do (Shiro x reader)

hey everyone!! how have y’all been? this week has been hectic as all fuck for me, and I’m leaving to see my family in the Netherlands in 2 days (and there’s a new member to my family!!!!), so i’m excited about that!!

-- -- --

Summary: You and Shiro haven’t seen each other in years--not since you had been hired at G. Empire Laboratories, where the working conditions were mediocre, at best. But your boss just fired you--which causes you to lose your engineering license--and when you hit a bar to forget about your troubles, you run into him again.

Word count: 9K

Genre: angst/fluff

Notes: masterlist - this one was very loosely based on that one scene in How To Get Away With Murder. you know the one. and it was also supposed to be way angstier but idk what happened,,, im not complaining

-- -- -- 

You're fired.

The words looped in your head over and over as you swirled your drink in its glass, letting the alcohol and the thumping of the music around you soothe the burning feeling that those three words left behind.

You are fired.

And just like that, you'd lost your job and your only source of income. Oh, and also your home. No big deal. How long had you not shared a flat with Lotor? Years. Three, four–the exact number had slipped your mind. You had done everything together: working as researchers in the labs, working out, having breakfast, lunch, dinner... Lotor--the entirety of G. Empire Laboratories--had become such a big part of your life that now that they weren’t anymore, you felt a bit lost.

You had only been allowed out once a month–and that included phone calls, text messages, any contact to the outside world. You never went to the same places as neither of you were supposed to get recognized by anyone. That was harder on Lotor, with his flowing silver hair, than it was on you, an average-looking person but always by his side.

Besides, Zarkon monitored your every step. You had never even been tempted to defy his orders and go to the same place twice.

Tonight, though, you looked like a regular sod in an old t-shirt and jeans drinking their sorrows away. Beckoning over the bargirl, you asked for a refill, already feeling the alcohol take effect and making you feel deliciously numb.

You'd try and spend the night with the Holts. They lived nearby and you always made sure to give them your monthly allowed call, catching up and assuring them you were doing fine, which was mostly the case. Matt and Pidge surely would be happy to see you. They'd probably let you stay until you had somewhere else to go.

Right now, you could probably survive on your–admittedly meagre–savings, but you'd have to find a job, and quickly. You'd scour the local supermarkets and cafés to see if they were in need of a cashier or a waiter or something. You'd just have to manage.

And then you almost choked on your drink, because Takashi Shirogane was walking towards you and he was grinning.

Oh, fuck. You were suddenly very aware of the fact that your hair resembled a bird's nest and your worn clothes, and of the fact that Shiro still looked handsome as ever–better, even. There was so much life in his eyes, your chest grew warm.

"Y/N? Is that really you?"

You tried for a smile, hoping you weren't too drunk for a proper conversation yet. "In the flesh."

He pointed to a barstool next to you and raised a questioning eyebrow. You nodded. "Go ahead. I could sure use the company."

"It's really good seeing you again," Shiro said, fingering his own glass. "I thought you weren't allowed to go out on your job?"

Your insides turned to ice and you stiffened briefly, but you weren't about to ruin your–and Shiro's–night by talking about your life problems. It had been almost four years since you'd last seen him. You didn't want to bother him with it, even though you had come to the bar in the first place to mope. Right now–you were grateful for the strange twist in your fate that had led you to Shiro, and you intended to make the most out of it.

"We got the evening off. Good–good work results, and all. Like a reward."

"That's great," he smiled, casting you a soft look that had your insides melt. "In any case. It's been way too long."

"Yeah," you laughed, "the last time we properly saw each other must have been, what? Four years ago?"

"Something like that."

You took another sip of your drink to give your hands something to do and shot him a genuinely curious look. "So, what have you been up to?"

As he talked, you hung off his lips, your eyes raking across his features and drinking in every detail, every word that passed his lips, every look he threw your way and every smile that made your knees weak. Oh, how you had missed those beautiful grey eyes.

Shiro and you had been close all through high school, and during that time you had developed feelings for him–feelings that you at first had dismissed as being a silly high school crush, but had turned out to be much more complicated than that and had cost you many a sleepless night.

The contact between the two of you had somewhat broken off after you'd graduated. Most of it was through texting, the occasional phone call or video chat here and there–just talks about the silliest things, sometimes until deep into the night, and you wouldn't have traded them for the world.

And then you'd gotten your job at G. Empire Laboratories, and you'd had to say a very abrupt goodbye to the life you knew.

Shiro had understood–he knew how long you'd been waiting for the green light on this job and how anxious you had been, and he'd been nothing but supportive, even though he'd admitted that it did hurt, knowing that he wasn't going to be seeing you for a good while.

And that had been the last you'd heard of him. It stung, of course–but you found that you couldn't blame him, as much as you maybe wanted to.

And besides, you were seeing him now, right? The two of you seemed to get along better than ever. The only thing was that those feelings, those damned feelings were coming back in full force and you had to struggle to keep a straight face, keep those emotions down and not let Shiro know what exactly seeing him again was doing to you.

He worked at the Galaxy Garrison, now. Pilot. Teacher. You smiled, recalling how he'd use to talk your ears off about the Garrison, how his face would light up a and how he seemed to be living towards the day he would finally get accepted–which he did, calling you up in the middle of the night to scream in your tired ears that he'd got in, Y/N, he'd done it.

You had been seventeen back then. Shiro had applied a year early and his senior year had been about the Garrison, and he'd often tell you how much he just wanted to go now. But he still had to graduate, which he did as an honour student, and he'd dragged you along to the end of the year ceremony, even though you had made it very clear you had made no plans to attend.

I'm spending my last day in this hellhole with my best friend, he'd said matter-of-factly, and you'd rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a smile of your own.

Neither of you were the same, now. Both of you had changed, experienced new things, grown up. Still young, yet feeling so, so old.

Then how come you felt so much lighter, so much livelier whenever Shiro looked at you?

"I missed you," you blurted, no doubt a side effect of the alcohol currently coursing through your veins–you usually knew when to hold your tongue. Zarkon had made sure to teach you. "I missed–this. Us."

Shiro reached over, taking your hand and entwining his fingers with yours as if to make sure you wouldn't disappear. "Me too." His smile lighted a fire in your chest. You'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

––

You woke with a strange feeling of contentment. Safety. Warmth.

Then you registered the arms wrapped around you and you sucked in a breath through your teeth, feeling your muscles tense up, and the events of the night before crashed into you with full force, leaving you squeezing your eyes shut and bunching your hands in the sheets draped over your form.

Shiro was still fast asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily and you felt his warm breath wash over the skin of your neck every time he exhaled, making goosebumps appear all over your bare arms.

You wore a shirt that wasn't yours, the fabric falling to well over your hips. Taking a deep breath, you felt sickness arise in your throat–you'd have one hell of a hangover. You had been positively drunk the previous night.

Not drunk enough for you to forget what had happened, apparently. Not entirely. It was muddy, but the memories were there–the crash of his lips on yours, the cab Shiro had hauled to bring the two of you back to his apartment, the way he'd run his hands over your skin almost desperately. You scanned the floor, careful not to move and wake Shiro, and sure enough, there were the lumps you vaguely recognised as your jeans and dirty t-shirt, your jacket no doubt discarded somewhere on the floor in the hallway.

You closed your eyes again, willing the tears back and drawing a shaky breath. Right.

You had done something absolutely, completely, incredibly stupid, and you would pay for it one way or another.

So you bit your tongue and slipped slowly, cautiously, out of Shiro's embrace, careful not to wake him and hating the way your body immediately yearned for his touch as soon as you'd left it. You hated, hated, hated it.

You could just slip back into bed, go back to sleep and pretend everything was fine when you woke up again. Deal with this in the morning. You could just... see where this lead you. But you pushed the thought–strange, irrational thought–back in its place immediately, snatching up your clothes and working yourself out of the shirt you wore, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth when you caught a whiff of Shiro's cologne lingering on the fabric.

Bag, phone, wallet. You had everything. Slipping into your shoes, not bothering to tie the laces, you carefully lowered the door handle and flinched at the slight creak before stepping outside, leaving the door ajar and swiftly making your way down the stairs. Checking the time on your phone, you bit back a curse–it was 3.46 A.M, surely way too early for you to knock on the Holts' door. You'd have to wait.

As you opened the front door to Shiro's apartment and slung your bag over your shoulder, you let the first tear fall.

You were glad for the little coffee shop's 24-hour policy, and you sniffed as you stirred your latte listlessly, your chin resting in your hand. The scent of coffee and bright neon lights had somewhat woken you up but did nothing to lessen the headache that was gradually building up in the far back side of your skull and you asked a waitress for an aspirin. She gave you a pitying look and asked, "Rough night?"

"Something like that," you muttered, keeping your gaze firm on the plastic green stirrer as your fingers fiddled with it. She gave you a sympathetic smile and assured you the aspirin would come right up. You'd have to keep this address in mind; a place where a 24-hour policy actually meant 24 hours. You had a feeling this would be the first of many middle-of-the-night trips.

Your brain was too muddy, too tired to think about what you'd do when you finally did get to the Holt's. What you'd tell them, what you wouldn't tell them. You didn't know, and you were too confused and your mind was too murky for you to care. You sipped your coffee, wincing slightly at the heat of it burning on your tongue.

The doorbell chimed. You cringed, for just a second thinking that it was Shiro who'd woken up and come after you--but the guy taking a seat at the bar beside you was greeted by the waitress with a "Hey, Kyle." Kyle responded with a wave and a whispered greeting, and you felt your body deflate, the tension leaking from your shoulders. You ran a hand over your face, squeezing your eyes shut, and downed the last of your coffee, leaving a couple of coins on the shiny wood and muttering that they could keep the change.

It was dark out, but the streetlights were on and a big city like yours never truly slept. The night air was chilly and bit at your skin, the wind rippling through your clothes and you buried your hands in the pockets of your denim jacket, ducking your head down and staring at your feet, wandering around aimlessly for a while before you sank down on a bench. You took out your phone. Half past four A.M. Still a couple of hours to kill, then.

You thumbed through WhatsApp, checking your messages when you came across Matt's icon and you raised a brow. Online, the small grey script beneath his profile picture stated. You bit your lip, debating whether to send him a message–he might not even reply, for all you knew. Maybe he wasn't even in town. You decided to take your chances and shot him a quick message.

You: hey. you up?

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.

Matt: yeah

Matt: why?

Matt: you okay?

You pointedly ignored the last question.

You: why the fuck are you up at half 4 AM???

Matt: i'm a college student, Y/N.

You: that's fair

It was silent for a bit, then the little speech bubble filled with three dots appeared again, signalling Matt was typing something.

Matt: why are YOU up at half 4 AM?

You pulled a face as you tapped out a reply.

You: hahahaha

You: funny story, actually

You: i kinda got fired from my job and lost my license

You waited anxiously for his response, biting your nails.

Matt: ...

Matt: wait

Matt: are you for real

Matt: did you seriously get fired

You: *jazz hands emoji*

You: surprise

Matt: but didn't you live there and shit???

Matt: where are you staying??

Matt: wait

Matt: where are u right now??

You gave a humourless chuckle, bringing your knees up to your chest and squinting at your phone's screen, imagining Matt curse softly and run his hands through his hair the way he used to do when he got upset.

You: well, right now i'm on a bench. somewhere. in a park? idk

You: as for where i'm staying... i was actually kinda hoping i could crash at yours for a little while?

You: just as i get my life back on track a bit

Matt: yes of course

Matt: i'll ask mum and dad but it should be no problem

Matt: u can use the guest room

You: thanks man

You heaved a sigh, leaning back on your bench and closing your eyes. You wondered when the sun would come up, and if you should start heading towards the Holt's house. Your phone vibrated with another text.

Matt: shit, Y/N.

You: yeah, that pretty much sums it up

After some texting back and forth, Matt told you to get to their house as soon as you could–you could haul a cab, take the underground. Whatever brought you where you needed to go the quickest. Matt would stay up to let you in and let his parents know that you were coming. If you'd just give a call when you were on your way?

You ended up taking the underground, the guy in the ticket booth casting you an irritated look when you cleared your throat, pointedly clapping his book shut before saying in a tired voice, "How can I help you?". He looked like he would rather be doing literally anything else than helping you.

Half an hour later you knocked on the Holt's door and only had to wait a few moments before footsteps came barging down the hallway and the door was thrown open. A dishevelled Matt stood in the doorway, his expression a concerned frown, and you raised a hand in a weak wave.

"Hey, man. It's been a while." You tried for a smile, but you were exhausted, and frankly, on the brink of tears. What you needed were a good long shower and some sleep. Matt seemed to catch onto it, and he beckoned for you to come inside, quietly shutting the door behind you.

The lights weren't on. Of course they weren't; it was still early, way too early to flick on all the lights and potentially wake all the other residents of the house. So Matt guided you to the kitchen, where a mug of tea was waiting for you and you cast him a grateful smile as you picked it up and curled your fingers around it, finally crashing on a chair and allowing yourself to relax.

"Thought you might want something warm to drink," Matt whispered, taking a seat in front of you. "For how long had you been outside?"

You hesitated, the edge of the cup almost grazing your lips. You knew you weren't ready to admit to Matt where you'd spent the first part of your night. "Since about three. I was–I was in a bar. Got drunk. Stayed there until I got kicked out." You sniffed, taking a sip. "Not a very glorious night for me, I'm afraid."

Matt sighed, running a hand down his face. As you eyed him from behind your teacup, you noticed the shagginess of his hair and the big bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin. He looked about as exhausted as you felt. I'm a college student, Y/N. Right.

"Y/N?"

You turned to see Sam and Colleen Holt in the kitchen doorway, both dressed in bathrobes but looking a lot more awake than you felt. A tired smile made its way onto your lips--no matter how exhausted you were, the mere sight of them always was enough to make you smile. You stood, walking up to them and leaning your head on Colleen's shoulder, the way you used to do back when you'd spend half your life at the Holt's and you needed a hug. It seemed Colleen hadn't forgotten about them either, as she sighed and wrapped her arms around you, tugging you into her chest and stroking your hair. Silent tears rolled onto your cheeks.

"Oh, love..."

Sam patted you on the shoulder, and you blindly reached for him, yanking him down and hugging him too. "I missed you guys so, so much," you whispered into their shoulders, voice shaky with sobs. Colleen pulled back, her own eyes shiny with tears, her thumb stroking away the wetness the tears had left on your cheeks. She tugged off your denim jacket and told you to get changed, she'd wash your clothes for you. There was a pair of pyjamas in the guest room. You thanked her and Sam, shooting one more weak grin Matt's way before dragging yourself up the stairs, changing into the pyjamas–not bothering to fold your other clothes, instead dumping them in a heap on the floor–and crashing on the bed. You were out before your head even touched the pillow.

The next morning, you woke with a start and a screaming girl launching herself onto your bed. She crashed into you, yelling incoherent things in your ears and wrapping her arms around your neck in an embrace that left you almost gasping for air and repeatedly slapping her arm while telling her to Let go! Let go, you weirdo!

She sat back on your legs, a huge grin adorning her face, and you shot her a murderous look as you pushed yourself up, your hair a mess and falling into your face and your pyjamas crooked from the early-morning attack you'd just suffered. "Jesus Christ, Pidge. Is that how you usually wake up your guests? By literally choking them to death?"

Pidge's grin widened. "Not usually, no. But you're not usually said guest."

"Touché."

"Anyway," she pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, "what brings you here? I mean, what about your job? I thought you weren't allowed to go out and see people and stuff?"

Your face fell slightly. "Matt... Matt didn't tell you?"

Frowning, Pidge straightened and said cautiously, "I didn't give him a chance to say anything. I got so excited when he said you were here..." Her eyes filled with worry. "Why? Is something wrong?"

You were suddenly very interested in the quilt covering your legs, and you picked at a loose thread. "I got fired, Pidge," you muttered at last, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Wait–what? Why?" Her jaw had dropped.

You pulled a face. Zarkon hadn't exactly given you an actual proper reason as to why you got fired, unless "giving him trouble" was one. Which you highly doubted, but you weren't about to tell him that. You hadn't even tried to protest, his icy stare numbing paralyzing your limbs and all you had done was stare at him until he'd impatiently waved you out of his office.

You hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to your friends– or to Lotor. Security had already taken care of collecting your stuff–the backpack you currently carried with you and counted exactly one spare shirt, one old pocket watch that had belonged to your father, your phone, and two books. Two and a half seconds later, you stood outside the Empire gates, shaken, about one minor inconvenience away from breaking down into sobs, unemployed and licenseless.

You shrugged. "I guess... I wasn't good enough for him–them anymore."

Pidge pursed her lips, her eyes stormy and her mind racing a million miles an hour. "That makes no sense. You're brilliant."

"Well, not to them, apparently. Not brilliant enough, at least," you snapped, the words stinging more than you meant them to. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay." Pidge hugged you again. "Well, your boss is a dick. I'd beat them up if I could."

"Oh, lord, please don't," you laughed, swatting her away, but apparently she'd succeeded in her mission to make you feel better because she pulled you into one more hug and then bounded for the door.

"Get into the shower. You smell. Breakfast's in half an hour."

"Wow. All right."

– – –

"So... what are you going to do now?" Colleen asked, leaning back in her chair and sizing you up with a critical gaze. You liked how she did that–immediately went to the subject that danced around in everyone's minds, without tiptoeing around it or treating you like you were something fragile and made out of glass. You brushed the crumbs off your hands, munching the last of your eggs thoughtfully.

"Honestly," you swallowed, "I'm not really sure. I'm going to try and find a job as soon as possible, like at a café or restaurant or something. Hell, I'd take a cashier job right now. Anything that makes me money, because that's something I sorely need."

"How much do you have saved up?" Matt asked over his own breakfast.

"Not much. I've never needed to–most Empire employees work there until they retire. Once you've been accepted, nobody would think of quitting. I mean, it's Empire. And there's little you can do to get fired–" You flinched, your hands balling themselves to fists at your sides. Coughing, you folded your arms to hide them, flexing your fingers a few times. "Besides, the paycheck isn't as high as you might believe."

But that wasn't the complete truth.

Galra Empire Labs–the dream for every respected scientist, researcher, engineer. Having a job there was the pinnacle of achievement. You'd thought so too, once upon a time–back when you were innocent and full of dreams and hopes for your future. Yet you knew how secretly fucked up the whole company was.

Employees weren't allowed to do basically anything outside of work, and certainly not without the leading board knowing. Haggar, a terrifyingly intelligent scientist and Zarkon's second in command, somehow always knew where everyone was and what they were doing. You knew that the dorms were bugged, and harboured secret cameras, though you hadn't ever been able to do anything about it because Haggar would know, and if Haggar knew, Zarkon knew, and the one thing you wanted to avoid at all costs was Zarkon knowing.

Employees were granted absolutely no freedom. Breakfast was between six and seven A.M, lunch between noon and one P.M, dinner between six and seven P.M, curfew at ten thirty P.M. Everyone worked from seven to six, one half hour break in the mornings and the afternoons, the working conditions mediocre at best even though the company was able to afford the most expensive equipment. You'd grown up more quickly in your first week working at Empire than you had in your entire life.

The only reason you'd lasted as long as you did was Lotor, probably.

While he was a biochemist and you were an engineer, you shared a room, and spent every moment that you weren't confined to your respective labs together. Grown close, developed an alliance that blossomed into friendship. You and he hadn't talked that much, knowing that every word you said was probably recorded, and the last thing either of you wanted was for Zarkon to find out and separate you. So you kept silent, communicating almost solely through looks and sometimes holding hands, just because you craved the physical contact.

But even with him to keep you company, you got lonely–and it would be a lie to claim you weren't the tiniest bit relieved to be out of G. Empire Labs.

"But–I don't know. I'll figure it out."

Colleen rested a hand on yours. "And we'll help you with it, all the way through."

– –

You had to be honest–if someone had asked you five years ago where you'd be seeing yourself in five years' time, your answer would certainly not have been "working as a coffee-shop barista for minimum wage". Not that there was anything wrong with working as a coffee-shop barista for a minimum wage, you just had never expected to end up here, especially after having a job at Empire.

But here you were, taking customers' orders and scribbling their names on paper cups before passing them over to your co-worker Lance, who was in charge of actually making the drinks. Lance was nice. You liked him. Maybe he was a bit too loud and overbearing for your taste, but at least days at work with him were never dull. He had a good music taste as well, and in no time you were tapping your feet to the beat and humming along with the lyrics.

You handed him another cup and he frowned. "Satan? For real?"

Sniffing, you whipped out a new sharpie–the other one was starting to dry out–and doodled a little flower next to the name Juliet, winking at the little girl standing in front of the bar and flashing you a toothed grin. "What can I say. Some people never really grow out of it, and I don't think we have a right to judge."

"You have obviously never worked as a barista before. All we do is judge. We're judgemental motherfuckers."

"Oh, but I judge. I just judge you. There's so much to judge."

"Fuck off, Y/N."

"Just make the damn coffee, boy," you chuckled, spinning on your heel to lightly whack him on the head.

He squinted at you, finished making his drink and called out cheerfully, "Satan!"

When Satan had come up and retrieved his drink, giggling under her breath, Lance planted a hand on his hip and pointed the other at your face. "You've been here for, like, a week and a half, and you're already starting to take command of this place and I don't like it very much. Step down a notch."

"Excuse you? I'm the one keeping this place running and making sure you keep your job," you laughed, poking your sharpie in his chest. "Dork. Get back to work, we have customers waiting."

Lance turned around, mocking your words in a high-pitched voice and a fair amount of hand gestures, his eyes wide and sarcasm dripping from his expression.

"Hang on–Y/N?"

You whipped around, your heart leaping in your throat because you knew that voice. Your eyes widened when you saw him. "Keith." Shiro's adopted brother.

His eyes shone with confusion and he frowned. "Wait. Aren't you supposed to be an engineer?"

"Yes. I still–I'm still an engineer. Can we, uhh..." Your fingers already fumbled with the straps of your apron and you said, "I'm taking my break," not waiting for Lance's answer to slip out from behind the counter and grab Keith's wrist, leading him outside.

"Hold on a second. Does Shiro know you're here?" Keith asked, hoisting his bag up on his shoulders and pursing his lips at your choice of location–maybe a small alley wasn't ideal, but the last thing you wanted was being noticed. A small alley was, at least, inconspicuous.

"No." Keith's frown deepened and he opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could say anything. "And I'd like to keep it that way," you added through gritted teeth, hugging your arms to your chest.

"Wait–why? Did anything happen between you two?" Keith looked genuinely confused and you understood why. It was a weird thing to want, for your best friend not to know you're back in town after not having seen each other for years.

You heaved a pained sigh. "No. It's just... I got fired from my job, and I lost my license, and I don't want Shiro to know. Yet," you added when Keith raised an eyebrow at you. "Not yet."

"Why?" Keith asked, a puzzled look on his face as if he couldn't figure out for the life of him why you wouldn't want Shiro to know.

"Because–it's a lot to process, okay? I got fired a month ago and I lost everything. I stay at the Holts' because I don't have enough money to get an apartment of my own. I work as a damn barista because I can't get a job as an engineer anywhere because I lost my license."

"Hang on a sec. Why's that?" A sharp glint appeared in Keith's eyes.

Another sigh made its way past your lips. "My old boss–Zarkon–he made sure of it. Listen, there aren't a lot of people who get fired from Empire. When they do, it's hard to get a job anywhere, because when you get hired you basically turn your entire self over to the company, right? And when you get fired, you lose your license as an engineer or biochemist or whatever," you mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt and shifting your weight from one leg to another.

"And you don't want Shiro to know because..."

You threw your hands in the air. "Is it so hard to do this one thing for me, Keith? I'll tell him. I promise! Eventually. Just... not yet." You didn't tell him that another reason why you didn't want to see him just yet was that you weren't really in the mood for the conversation that would inevitably follow.

Keith put a hand on his hip, narrowing his eyes at you. "Fine. You get two weeks. Then I'll tell him, because he'll kill me if I don't." He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

"Fine," you grumbled, and shook his hand.

The two of you exchanged phone numbers, and then you were back behind the counter and taking his order, purposely misspelling his name on the cup. He cast you an unimpressed look when he finally took the drink, flipping you the bird as he made his way out of the shop. You responded with a blown kiss and a wave of your own, ignoring Lance's pointed look.

"How do you know Keith?" he asked over the sound of the coffee machine. "I've never heard him talk about you."

"I was good friends with his brother for a while," you said vaguely, ducking your head down and trying to stop your hand from trembling. The name you were writing–Janet–came out looking more like Jenit. "So we were bound to see each other often."

"No way. You were friends with Shiro?"

You spun on your heel, narrowing your eyes at the incredulous tone Lance's voice had taken on. "Yes. We've known each other since we were about ten." You paused. "That surprise you?"

"I mean–I guess. A bit. He's never talked about you before, and, well... I guess I didn't peg you the type."

"Do I have to be a certain type to be friends with Shiro?" You tried not to let your voice sound too defensive.

"No! That's not what I meant! It's just... most of his friends are from work, and you work–well, here." Lance's face had grown bright red. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you–"

"No, it's fine," you muttered, ripping the cap off a new Sharpie with more force than necessary. "It was a while ago, anyway. Haven't seen him in years."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Lance. Drop it."

You heard him sigh behind you. "All right."

As you took people's orders, a fake smile stretched across your face, you tried not to linger too much on Lance's words. He's never talked about you before. You set your jaw. I didn't peg you the type. It's been four years, you reminded yourself. Don't let it get to you. Besides, you'll see him again soon. Relax.

Yeah, you thought bitterly. Just relax.

– – –

You were draped on your bed, your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling with a frown on your face when Matt knocked on the door. "Yo. Can I come in?"

You sniffed. "Sure."

He plopped down on the edge of your bed, pulling his feet up and sitting cross-legged. "Are you okay, Y/N? You've been in a nasty mood for days now."

"I'm fine," you snapped, but flinched as soon as you said it because you knew it was a lie. "Sorry. I'm just–a bit tense, is all." Your two-week deadline was approaching with a speed you did not like at all. You had two days left to make the call, and Keith was reminding you of it every half hour. He was getting impatient.

"Shiro's been sulking in his room for days. It's really starting to piss me off. He could use some good news," he'd said last time you were on the phone with him.

"So now getting fired and losing my license is good news?" you'd bit back.

"Maybe not that specific part," he'd admitted. "But you're back in town! That should be enough to cheer him up at least a little bit. I haven't seen him like this since you left for Empire." He'd chuckled. "Ironic."

Matt shot you an unimpressed look. "Right."

Suddenly you were overcome with an urge to tell him everything. It was eating at you. You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to confront Shiro just yet–but you also didn't want him to hear it from someone else; in this case, Keith. "Hey, can you close the door?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Should I be worried?"

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him off the bed with your feet. "Just do it, moron."

He did it, then sat back down and crossed his arms. "What?"

You pursed your lips, trying to gauge what the best way to tell him would be. "I lied to you."

His eyebrow crept further into his hairline. "... Okay. And?"

"When I showed up on your doorstep. When I texted you. I hadn't been on the streets the whole evening." You grimaced, slapping your hands onto your face. "I slept with Shiro," you mumbled through your fingers.

"What?"

"I know, I know, stupid–"

"No, that's not–you slept with him." Matt ran a hand down his face.

"Yes."

"In his apartment?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you–" his eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his hand. "Y/N, tell me you didn't run off at 3 A.M. without Shiro knowing."

When you stayed silent, Matt whacked your leg. "Oh my god, you absolute moron! Why would you do that?"

"I was drunk! So was he! And I'd just gotten fired from my job, I wasn't thinking straight! What if it ruined our friendship, Matt? Hell, it would have. We hadn't seen or spoken to each other in years, and the first thing we do when we're reunited is have sex. How could I possibly face him after that?"

Matt opened his mouth, but you sat up and threw your hands in the air. "He doesn't know I got fired from Empire. And Keith's gonna tell him in two days that I'm here unless I do it but I'm not ready yet, but I also don't want him to hear it from someone else because he's still my best friend and I know how much it'd hurt him, but I just don't really know what to do." You let yourself fall back onto the mattress and flung an arm across your face.

"Wow. What a mess."

"No shit," you said, your voice muffled by your arm. There was a pause and the bedsheets ruffled as Matt shifted on the mattress.

"You know what you gotta do, right?"

"Move to Alaska and go into hiding?" you suggested half-heartedly, curling into yourself.

"No," said Matt pointedly, snatching up your phone and chucking it at your face–you only barely managed to catch it–ignoring your startled Hey! "You gotta call him. Now."

"Now?" You sounded like a whiny child throwing a temper tantrum.

"Yes. Now." You pouted, but his expression didn't change. "Go on."

You mumbled curses under your breath as you tapped your phone's screen, pulling up Shiro's phone number and staring at it for a solid minute before shifting your gaze back to Matt. "So, about Alaska–"

"Jesus, Y/N," he said, plucking your phone from your hands and pressing the call button. Your eyes widened and you grabbed it back, silently panicking and whisper-fighting with Matt, including phrases like "Oh my god, I'll kill you", "I'd like to see you try, bitch", "You are evil. Evil" and "I did you a fucking favour" until you heard a click and Shiro's voice saying, "Hello?"

Matt got up with a grin and blew you a kiss before skipping out of your room. You flipped him off.

"Hello?" came Shiro's voice again, slightly irritated.

"Yes, hi, Shiro, it's me," you quickly answered, switching your phone to your other ear and jumping up, not quite sure what to do with your hands. "It's Y/N."

"Y/N, hey," he said, surprise clear in his voice and despite everything, you smiled, because your heart still couldn't behave normally whenever you spoke with him. "How've you been?" he asked quietly.

"I've–you know–been," you said with a laugh, reaching up with one hand to rub the back of your neck. "But, um, I was actually wondering–could we meet up soon? I'd like to talk to you, and I'd rather do it in person. I'm fine, don't worry," you added quickly, knowing what he was thinking, "but there's a lot to talk about. Last time–" you cringed, internally screaming curses at yourself and resisting the urge to eat your phone like a potato crisp. "Anyway." You thought you did a pretty decent job keeping your voice level. "Meet up?"

"All right," Shiro said after a pause. "Sure. Say when and where."

The little bakery gave off a quiet air of peace and calm. The scent of fresh bread and sweet pastries relaxed you and you ordered a cup of tea at the counter. You were early, you knew, but your nerves hadn't let themselves be tamed this morning and Matt had gotten so irritated with you that he'd kicked you out.

You'd only just started sipping your tea when the bell above the doorway rang, and Shiro walked in. His eyes widened when he spotted you and he made a beeline for your table, carefully taking a seat in front of you. "And here I thought I was early."

You gave him a sheepish smile in return. It was silent for a moment, and you'd be lying if you said that you didn't feel the tension crackling in the air. But if it was good or bad tension... that, you weren't sure of yet.

"So, you wanted to talk?" he finally said, and you fiddled with your fingers, trying to avoid looking him in the eye and thinking about how to best start.

"Yeah. First, though, I figure I owe you an apology." He pulled up an eyebrow and you pursed your lips, sagging in your seat. "You know what for," you said quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. "But that's not what you wanted to talk about."

"No." You bit the inside of your cheek. "I've been back in town for over a month. Since that very night, actually. And I didn't tell you."

Now Shiro pulled up his other eyebrow and you pretended not to notice the hurt flashing in his eyes.

"I got fired, Shiro. From Empire."

His jaw fell. "Oh."

"Yeah." You fingered your cup listlessly, taking a deep breath and blinking back the tears forming in your eyes. Why were you crying? There was absolutely no reason why you should be crying. You'd already established that you were so much better off outside of Empire. So then why did you still feel like a failure?

"Hey," Shiro said, frowning and grabbing your hand when the first tear fell, and you barked a laugh, wiping at your eyes. "Hey. It's not your fault."

"Probably not," you mumbled, "but it still sucks. You know what happens to fired employees?" You didn't wait for an answer. "I work as a barista now. I lost my engineering license. That's how much power and influence Empire has."

"Hold on–you lost your license? How?"

"It's in the contract, Shiro. Fine print and whatnot, that I didn't read over because I'm a moron." You sighed. "Do you ever make a choice so stupid you regret it for the rest of your life?"

He smiled faintly. "I know the feeling."

You straightened in your seat. "You do?"

He didn't elaborate and you got the feeling he wouldn't, even if you kept asking. It was silent again as he looked at you, chewing his cheek in thought. The tension in the air reached a peak. Then Shiro laughed and the tension broke. He shook his head, chuckling. "Look at the two of us. Absolute messes, ain't we?"

"I guess," you said with a laugh of your own, downing the last of your tea and decisively plopping down the mug on its saucer. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

"It's okay. I understand. I probably would have done the same thing."

"Would you have, though?" you mused, cocking your head. "Keeping secrets isn't like you."

Shiro arched an eyebrow and looked at you in a way that had you positive that had you been standing, your knees would have buckled right from underneath you. "I've got my fair share of secrets," he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

You exhaled sharply, fighting down the blush threatening to creep up your cheeks. Would you ever be able to see him–just see him–and not immediately want to plant one right on his mouth? At the rate where things were going, you didn't think so. If anything, your feelings had only intensified in the years that you hadn't seen him.

"But," he suddenly said, and he straightened, "I'm gonna need you to promise one thing."

You nodded for him to continue, wary.

Shiro smiled. "Don't ever do it again."

– – –

"Are you sure about this?" you hissed, your grip on Shiro's arm so tight you wouldn't have been surprised if you'd cut off his circulation. The white walls of the Galaxy Garrison vaguely reminded you of the ones that had encircled you at Empire, and it made you feel so very small.

People bustled around you, running this way and that, some in heated conversations on their phones, others scribbling on clipboards, even others jogging a few steps to catch up with someone before engaging in conversation with them. While the walls may have reminded you of Empire, the people within them could not have been more different.

Some of them cast you curious looks when they saw who you were accompanied by–Shiro was just shy of a legend at the Garrison, and he always seemed to walk a bit straighter and keep his chin a bit higher whenever someone told him hello or good morning, nodding and smiling in return.

"You'll be fine," he assured you easily, untangling your hands from his arm and giving them a squeeze. "I've been discussing it with Sam and Iverson for months. They've basically already hired you."

He'd first mentioned it to you a few weeks ago–you'd been casually strolling through the park when he told you that he and Sam Holt had been trying to find a way around your license suspension, maybe even getting you a job at the Garrison. You'd almost walked straight into the little lake where you always fed the ducks.

Now you were headed for an interview–the outcome of which would decide whether you'd be able to work as an engineer ever again. Shiro had faith in you, confident that you'd nail it. You weren't so sure yet, your racing mind and shaking legs proof of that.

"Right," you squeaked, trying to keep your hands from trembling. "That's supposed to calm me down? What if I'm not what they expected? They could take one look at me and promptly decide that I'm not the person for the job after all, you know."

"Relax, Y/N."

"Hm. Relax. Yes. I'm perfectly relaxed."

The rest of the walk was spent in silence, and you had to resist the urge to scoot closer to him with every step. You wanted to grab his hand. But you were a coward, so you didn't. Then Shiro halted in front of a door that said "Commander Iverson," and you felt like all the oxygen was being drained from your lungs.

"Go on. You'll do great." He nudged you towards the door.

"Hold on–wait, wait, you're not coming with me?" you stuttered, gaze flickering from him to the door.

"This is a job interview, Y/N, not a parent-teacher meeting," Shiro hissed with a grin. He briefly touched your hand, and heat seared up your arm. "You can do this, all right?"

Nodding, you flexed your fingers, bouncing on your toes. Now or never. You knocked.

The man you assumed was Iverson almost immediately opened the door, and you were immensely relieved to see Sam standing just behind him. Iverson stuck out his hand and gave you a crude smile. "Y/N L/N, right? Iverson."

You shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

His eyes sized you up critically and there was a spark of interest in them. He gestured towards his office. "Shall we take this conversation inside?"

Just as you stepped through the doorway, you managed to catch a glimpse of Shiro's encouraging grin and raised thumbs over your shoulder. It calmed your thumping heart, if only slightly, and as you turned back to Iverson, you felt something in your chest that you hadn't thought you'd feel in a million years–a burst of confidence.

Half an hour later you stumbled back outside, still slightly dazed from the conversation you'd just had. Your eyes were wide and you were clutching the little bundle in your arms as if your life depended on it. To your right, Shiro pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and arched an eyebrow at you expectantly. "So? How'd it go?"

You stared at him for a moment, face lax, before you breathed a laugh and showed him the Garrison uniform in your arms. "I got the job."

The smile that lit up his face could have illuminated the dark side of the moon and before you knew it he'd wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off your feet, twirling you around. You yelped in surprise, your hands crashing against his shoulders to keep your balance and you laughed too. In between giggles, you told him to Put me down! Put me down, weirdo, people are looking.

Shiro obliged, though he kept his arms firmly around your waist. "Let them look."

And he looked at you, and you looked at him, and the rest of the world seemed to fall away around you. A beat of silence passed, and heat coursed through your entire body and you were positive that you were on fire at that very moment, and then Iverson opened the door to his office and grunted, "If you two could just–not do that in front of my office. Please," and you leapt out of Shiro's arms like they'd given you an electric shock.

"Right, sir, yes, sir," Shiro said–maybe a bit louder than necessary–trying to keep a straight face, even though his cheeks were the shade of an overripe tomato and he blindly reached for your hand. You took it, grateful for the anchor, and the two of you all but sprinted out of there.

The Garrison parks were nice. Way nicer than you'd expected, and Shiro guided you to a somewhat private spot underneath an oak tree, its canopy providing shade in the warm afternoon sun. He plopped down at the base of the trunk, burying his face in his hands and you joined him, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them, gazing into the distance.

"Well. That was probably the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me."

"That's my new boss," you said dryly. "What an impression I must've made."

"Hey." Shiro shot upright, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth. "You did! You got the job! I told you!"

"Yeah," you said, fingering the smooth fabric of the white and orange uniform. "Yeah, I did."

Shiro let himself fall back on the grass and he put his hands behind his neck, closing his eyes. You watched him, the way his face relaxed in the soft sunlight filtering through the tree's canopy, one cheek pressed against your knees. He cracked open an eye. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why'd you leave that night?"

Your cheeks and neck heated up and you shot upright. "What?"

He sat up, crossing his legs. "You know what I mean."

You did. Somewhere, a selfish part of you had hoped he'd never bring it up and that you could just pretend it never happened in the first place, but that wasn't like him, and there had been tension between the two of you ever since that afternoon in the bakery. You figured maybe it was time to clear that up.

"I don't know," you muttered, raking your fingers through the grass beneath you. "I guess–I was confused, and my boss had just fired me, and–well–" You snuck him a glance, slightly turning away from him. "I was scared."

Shiro cocked his head. "Of what?"

You shrugged, averting your eyes and hiding your face behind your knees again. What you were about to admit felt stupid–childish, naive even–but you felt like he deserved to know the truth of what had gone on in your head that night. "I was scared that it hadn't meant as much to you as it did to me."

Shiro's eyes widened, but you didn't let him talk, feeling the sudden need to elaborate, explain yourself. "I mean–I was afraid that had I stayed, things would be awkward in the morning and it'd ruin our friendship and everything and I didn't want that, but leaving would also put me in a weird position because I'd have to explain later, and I didn't want that either, so that's also one of the reasons why I ghosted you for a month and a half, so neither options were perfect, and I probably chose the wrong one anyway but–"

"Whoa, hey, slow down," Shiro laughed, scooting over in front of you and gently tugging your arms away from in front of your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. The confusion or even annoyance you'd expected to see weren't there. He only looked at you with tenderness and affection and his gaze was warmer than ever. "I get it."

Gulping, you asked, "You do?"

He nodded with a grin. "I do. I get why you were scared because I felt the same way–have been for a long time, now."

You could only stare at him, dumbfounded.

"You mean the world to me, Y/N. You always have. I never thought we could be anything more than friends, even though I hoped it–and then graduation happened, and you got hired at Empire and I got accepted at the Garrison..." He shrugged, linking your fingers together. "And now you're back! And I know we probably shouldn't have done what we did a month ago, but I just can't find it within me to regret it even the slightest bit."

And before you knew it you were rushing forward and crashing your lips on his.

Your hands were cupping his cheeks, and his own were slowly coming up to trace your own cheeks before winding to the back of your neck and lacing through your hair, tilting your head up and closer to him. He pulled away for only a fraction of a second but you had gotten a taste and wanted it more, more, more until you drowned in it, so you chased his lips and kissed him again. You felt him smile against your lips but he finally gave in, a small sigh travelling from his mouth to yours.

And you kissed for what felt like hours, sitting underneath that big oak tree and whispering sweet nothings to each other in between pecks, fingers entwined, and your heart finally felt whole again.

#vld fic #voltron fic #vld shiro #voltron shiro #vld takashi shirogane #voltron takashi shirogane #vld shiro x reader #voltron shiro x reader #vld takashi shirogane x reader #voltron takashi shirogane x reader #shiro x reader #shiro voltron x reader #shiro vld x reader #voltron matt #vld matt holt #voltron matt holt #vld matt #vld pidge #voltron pidge

[capseycartwright]

I hate work but I am on board with the new #branding headquarters has sent out for the coffee machine lol

#in which i ramble #shoutout to u if ur Irish and you know the hellhole supermarket I work in