#i needed to draw this picture or i think i would’ve exploded

[ginkgo-mist]

guy that loves his little brother ^_^

#i needed to draw this picture or i think i would’ve exploded #it’s so cute #my doodles #izuna #izuna uchiha #madara #madara uchiha #naruto #naruto founders #uchiha brothers #naruto stage play

[ilycove]

Cove’s hands traveled across your body, an almost motherly expression on his face. "I feel like your fever's gotten worse."

You turn over in his tight hold, your eyes clashing with the ocean. "Maybe it's because you keep cuddling me."

Cove doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to, really. A hand of his stays at your waist while one travels up to your chest. He places it on your heart and feels his heartbeat beat at the same time as yours. It’s gentle, but so prominent.

You place your head over his chest. He notices you’re warm, really warm.  He goes to offer some water, or maybe soup, but you tell him you’re fine. 

At that moment, it’s only you and him who exist. Everybody else in your neighborhood doesn’t matter, it’s only your home that has life in it. His fingers draw circles against your skin, and if your fever wasn’t making it hard enough to keep your eyes open, he was definitely elevating that battle. He notices this, just like every other little thing about you, and you can’t stop him from offering this time. “I really don’t mind making you soup.”

“I do.” You lift your head and try to keep your eyes open to meet his again, and almost immediately drop it.

“Oh.” You watch as his eyes follow to the ground, but the corner of his lips tug into a small smile.

You lazily wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him even closer than your bodies would allow. You match his breathing with his, and suddenly everything sucks a lot less. You stay like that for a moment before deciding you needed his voice again. “Do you think we would’ve found each other in another life?”

He doesn’t miss a beat before replying with; “Of course.”

“...Same. I think that if you were an otter, I’d never let go of you so we never drifted apart,” You paused. You met his eyes again, smiling softly. “If you were a prince in a foreign land, and you were forced to marry someone else, I’d help you run away. I’d send you love letters every night and pray you’d read them.”  You closed your eyes and hum, comfortably. You barely even notice that his eyes lingered on your figure. He takes a deep breath, and you feel his voice.

"...I think that, if you were a star, I'd become an astronaut. And I'd study you for years to come."

You hum, closing your eyes once again and letting yourself sink into his presence. "And what if I exploded? Like a supernova?"

"Then I'd take the little pieces of your stardust and compact you back together."

"And if I slip through your fingers?"

He pressed a kiss in between your eyes. You can feel him smile against your skin. "Then I would know that it's for the better. I'd make sure every scientist and astrologer alike knew your name. And you'd still be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he pauses to take a breath, bittersweetly smiling. “I think I’d always miss you in my bones. Grief and growing wouldn’t be enough to forget about you. About us.”

You don’t reply at first. You’re thinking about what to say when his hands come up to your scalp to play with your hair, his fingernails scratch against your scalp and you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. 

Once Cove notices you on the brink of unconsciousness, he laughs and you can feel it vibrate through your bodies. He kisses the crown of your head. He says something, but you didn’t quite hear his voice. You only heard his heartbeat.

“I’ll love you when our hair turns gray. We’ll live in an old cottage, maybe not too far away from here so our kids could still have an experience like ours. Maybe not. I’m not too sure yet,” his fingers curl around some wisps of hair and pull you further into a sleepy trance. “...We could have a cardboard box full of photos throughout our life. I’m sure your moms have some baby pictures of us together. I think our kids would be envious of us.” He seals off his speech with a chuckle.

You don’t know which hand it was, but one of his hands starts holding one of yours. He presses a kiss to your cheekbone and whispers against your ear. “I love you.”

You knew that already. You squeeze his hand three times. You love him too.

#(⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝) – writing ! #our life #ol:ba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #our life beginnings & always #cove holden x jamie last #cove holden fluff #x reader #(4 ver... the little wet dog that is my older sister) #(they said their fave troupe sorta tied in with a sickfic and im sick rn so this is therapy) #(but also this is less of a sickfic more of a uhh character study? i'm learning how to write cove pls give me criticism)

[sophies-junkyard]

Seeing the new PJO content has me thinking way too hard about growing up. Its crazy because it’s like…. I think that chapter of my life is over? Which is a BIZARRE feeling. It’s all pretty stupid to write out but I’m drinking coffee and staring out the window and don’t have class for another 6 hours so lemme scribble some thoughts.

I read the Percy Jackson books when I was the same age as the characters, and so whenever I look back on those stories I sort of… remember them as peers? I remember how much I related to them and looked up to them. It was the first story that ever told me my ADHD could be a gift, and that it made me just like my heroes. It was so, SO important to me. I JOINED TUMBLR for the PJO fandom! I made camp t-shirts and painted necklace beads! I learned to draw because the fanart inspired me. Those books were such an escape for a lonely kid. The characters grew up right alongside me, and eventually got older than me. So when I picture our trio I still picture people… more competent than me? People I would aspire to be. But seeing that trailer and remembering like… holy fuck they were kids. I was a kid. This is a faithful adaptation because they were TWELVE… where did the time go?

It’s just strange because if you scroll back through my tumblr you’ll find a kid who camped out for the release of HOH. Who saved her allowance for a year to get an autographed copy of the Blood of Olympus. Whose eyes would glaze over in euphoria at the idea of my favorite thing in the world coming to screen. At the idea of a new BOOK!! And from Percy’s perspective?? That girl would’ve exploded. This was HER blog! Push a few buttons and you’ll find her!

So how odd is it that… it’s simply not for me anymore. When I saw that the book was set in Percy’s senior year of high school, I had a tiny flash of disappointment. Obviously I can’t relate to an 18 year old, and I felt myself frowning. “Why isn’t Percy for ME anymore?” I wondered. And I immediately felt silly. The answer is because… I don’t need that world anymore.

They’re not making this show for me. They’re bringing it back for the next generation of kids who need those role models and those stories. When I watched the trailer I thought “oh that’s cool” instead of “oh my god I can’t wait!!” Because it just doesn’t make my brain light up like it used to. I’m never going to relate to it like I once did. Ever. And that’s okay because I’m not that kid anymore! Insane.

It’s not like the series doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. There’s a copy of The Lightning Thief on the bookshelf directly across from me. Its smooshed between The Secret History and a level 4000 Spanish textbook. It’s yellowed with age and shredded around the corners. The first sentence has been underlined repeatedly in smudgy mechanical pencil. There are about a thousand folded pages and the back cover is missing. I don’t remember the last time I opened it, but it’s moved with me for years now and I have no intention of letting it go.

Those stories and that fandom shaped me into the person I am today. I wanted to be brave like Percy and smart like Annabeth. I believed it was possible because I saw myself in them, and it turned out to be true. So while it’s sad to know those days are behind me, I’m so SO glad that other kids will get to have that experience. I hope these stories live on for decades to come.

I don’t really know what the point of writing this was. I think I just wanted to have these thoughts written out somewhere. A sort of acceptance that time goes on and things change, ya know? And to clarify: this is NOT meant to discourage ANYBODY from watching the new series or reading the new book. People should absolutely go back to the things that bring them joy, should discover new worlds to escape to, etc. live your life baby! Hell, I’ll probably end up liking everything PJO related that floats across my dash. Nostalgia is a powerful thing. If you read this entire post I hope you have a great day lmao.

#percy jackson #PJO #the lightning thief #rick riordan #annabeth chase #this is my life #heroes of olympus #riordanverse #the chalice of the gods #this one’s for the homies who are feeling a bit old #feel free to ​let me know if y’all feel the same or if you’ve got a different perspective on all this! #adhd

[orphanedwolfandfriends]

Verse: Cowboy Bebop Character(s): Cayla (who has no name in this verse), Baron (labeled as the doctor) Content warning: Mental child abuse. Please don’t read further if you’re not able to handle it. Ily, muah.

“D...dog...caaat...” The little one points to the pictures of the aforementioned animals to practice on her speech. For being close to the age of six or seven, she had about as much knowledge on how to talk as a toddler did. She wasn’t diagnosed with any disabilities, it’s just the fault of her ‘teacher’, who would toss her into a dark and isolated room whenever she did something he didn’t like. The doctor himself was assigned to teach her how to function like a human, despite the animal features she’s been sporting since birth. But rather than do that, he was doing what he found to be more important than being her teacher.

She had no parents that she could no remember. Not even pictures to show what they looked like. As far as she knew, she just poofed into existence like magic. And besides these one word sentences, she could barely talk. “Mm...moowwse.” She said, pointing to a picture of the mouse. She then got bored...and wanted to doodle on paper. Taking a black and gray crayon, she scribbled something that only she could identify at first glance. That awful ‘punishment’ room...nothing would be in there but pure, suffocating silence, and sometimes monsters that her own brain would conjure up, some taking shape of the man assigned to teach her.

Suddenly, the gloved hand of the man slumped to the table, catching her attention as he picked up the drawing with narrowing eyes. Had the girl not looked afraid and try to reach up for the drawing, he wouldn’t have pieced together what it was. He then crumpled it up in his hands. “Just who do you think is gonna lose his job if his subordinates find this, hmm...?”  He asks softly, such a question bringing chills to the girl’s spine. She twiddled her thumbs, trying to apologize, but the fear was making her choke up. The doctor shook his head with a ‘tsk.’ “You don’t think, do you? You thoughtless little girl...” He said, before grabbing her on the arm. She pulled back with noticeable strain in her voice, and before she knew it, she was tossed back in to the room, the only light illuminating from the hallway before it slammed shut. Small hands banging on the door in demand to be let out, before sitting to her knees. She shook and covered her eyes as she sat down, her tail around her knees and soft sobs escaping her. Like all the other times she’d be thrown in here, she had no idea how much time has passed, nor what kind of chaos would come next.

The door would suddenly come open, and an arm would take the girl by the back of her cardigan before giving her any time to react. Everything around the two was fire, and smoke coming from different rooms, some of them exploding. Everything seemed to be a terrifying blur color and smoke, not to mention the other staff members of the facility scrambling to get out. Her ‘teacher’ would carry her in one arm like baggage and leave his colleagues to their doom. However...the only other thing he needed before leaving? She couldn’t make out what it was, but it could’ve been important. To his outrage, there was no way for him to get to his own office, so with nothing else to stay in for, he bailed out of the building, unnamed child in tow. Once they were out, there was even fire and burnt debris around them, but not without an open path. He dropped the girl, and dropped to his knees. The girl coughed for the smoke to not linger in her breath, and put in a surgical mask she always kept around for when others got sick. The man screamed out at the sky in a fit of rage, and punched the burnt soil beneath him.

“You...” He said in a dark tone, grabbing the girl again by her cardigan. “If I didn’t have to be STUCK babysitting you, I would’ve gotten to those documents! My research, everything I worked for, GONE!” He yelled at her, the girl whimpering and trying to get away before he shoved her to the ground, hand still gripping tightly on her clothing. Presumably, none of his colleagues would’ve known how badly he treated this child, but it’s not like it mattered to him anymore. “You defiant little..-!” He would’ve continued, but suddenly he was having difficulty breathing. He let her go, and coughed harshly. She took this as an opportunity to run away, but despite him practically dying, he grabbed her by the leg. “What the hell...what the hell’s going on-!?” He said, his coughs becoming more guttural. She kicked her leg to free herself from his grasp. Whatever was effecting him, he was being mighty stubborn to let it kill him, even when the smoke from the fire was no help for his immune system in the slightest. A foot came down hard on the back of the doctor’s skull, and the girl’s leg was free. She covered her eyes, only hearing the shuffling and frantic thuds against the burnt soil as the doctor suffocated and died shortly after. Besides the crackles of fire, and debris toppling over itself, there was silence. And the small girl, with her animal ears and tail, stared up at the figure who, quite literally, made this unlucky doctor eat dirt right in front of her.

#cece's dribble drabble #With this Heart I hold I was on my own {Cayla} #Cowboy Bebop verse tag TBD #:3c

[onepieceheadcannons]

hey bae!! can u write headcanons of luffy, sanji, and nami, finding out from someone else their crewmate ( reader ) likes them? thanks!! ur awesome

Hey Lovely,

Hope you likey

Luffy

Ah yes the captain,

He definitely needed someone to tell him, he wouldn't assume anyone liked him even if he returned it.

The crew, oh my, they'd be so frustrated. I mean, they see you guys everyday, hanging out catching fish, imitating the crew, and listening to Usopp's stories. They are surprised that someone can handle Luffy the way you do, you make him a better captain.

The crew made a plan, mainly Usopp, Franky, and Nami. Their first attempt didn't go as well, they had sent Usopp to tell him. Usopp didn't flat out say it, he made up some grand story about his love with Kaya, and at the end of it said well like you and y/n. But Luffy was too amazed by Usopp's story and didn't really catch his last bit.

So after that failed attempt, Nami decided that if she wants it done right, she just has to tell Luffy.

So she sits him down, and she is like "Y/n likes you, do you like them?" And Luffy would be oblivious at first, and be like "Well duh, they're my friend. I like them😁" so then Nami explained it, maybe with a few slaps on the head. But then he realized that he likes you just as much as he likes meat.

He wouldn't make a big deal out of it, I mean you like him, he likes you. So he just flat out says to you one day, "You'll be such a great future (queen/king whichever you are) of pirates."

I mean Luffy just stating you'll be there with him, I bet it would feel awesome. From that point, he'd wait to run and explore an island with you. He'd grab your hand and just run along and wouldn't even notice if his arm was stretching because he ran too far ahead.

He would let you wear his hat constantly, no doubt about it. He would make sure you ate even if he was picking off of your plate.

He wouldn't care if you are a girl or boy, he just wants to adventure with you and would make sure you are just as respected as him.

Sanji

Now let's be real, he has a crush on nearly every female he sees so he'd be kinda oblivious when it came down to realizing someone liked him.

You've been on the crew for awhile, and damn the way he smiles at you makes your heart explode. The crew started noticing, even Zoro. No one wanted to upset you by telling Sanji about your feelings without permission.

But then Zoro, him and Sanji were arguing like usual. And he slipped up, calling Sanji such a dumbass he didn't even notice y/n's crush on him.

When Sanji hears this, oh man, that man skyrockets into the sky with a nosebleed. I mean of course he returns the affection, you are so beautiful and gorgeous to him. A person like you having a crush on him, he is through the roof happy.

You watched this unfold with a wide eyed expression, I mean how did Zoro even know you liked Sanji. He doesn't approach you immediately about it, he wouldn't want you to be anxious about it. But instead he'd try to show that he likes you back.

He'd focus on you, not necessarily ignore Robin and Nami but he is less flirty than he was before. I mean this man refuses to even hurt a lady, he wouldn't want to hurt your feelings at all by flirting with another woman.

He'd wake up in the morning, to make you your favorite breakfast and grab you your favorite drink to have with it. He'd go shopping with you in mind for his meals. And he'd plan exactly how he'd tell you he returns the affection.

It would be romantic, I mean he is one of the biggest simps ever. He would do it privately, take you to a romantic secluded spot or cleared out the ship and lit candles and set up a fancy dinner.

He'd pull out your chair, make everything super proper, and he'd flower you with compliments and confess to his feelings without necessarily bringing up yours. And would ask you to be his girlfriend, and once the deal was sealed, he'd kiss you in a respectful but passionate way.

Now if you are a guy, this would probably be a little harder on him. Not that he'd be opposed but, he definitely has some internalized homophobia, I mean look at his reaction to his timeskip island. I still think he'd act the same but with an edge of shyness.

He wouldn't necessarily call you beautiful or gorgeous but instead Handsome and Charming. He'd daydream of saving you countless times, being your knight in shining armor, he might even have a few of you saving him (he may even picture a dress on himself if it's post timeskip) .

Nami

Robin is totally who told her. Robin observed the relationship, she saw all the exceptions Nami made for them. The lack of charging them for things, letting them watch her draw maps, even letting them near the treasure.

Robin would've asked a few questions first before outting your feelings. She wouldn't want to embarrass you at all, so she'd make sure Nami returned feelings first.

She'd ask if Nami was interested in a relationship at any point, then if she was interested in anyone currently. Then she'd be like, well I noticed Y/n seems to be interested.

Nami would react nonchalantly about it, I mean she knows she's gorgeous and cute. But she'd secretly be happy about it. She wouldn't wait much time.

She'd approach you, depending on how long you've known each other will change how she responds.

She may just go up to you and kiss you real quick. And hope that you ask her out then and don't act like an idiot.

But she also may just approach you and say she knows you like her and that she likes you too and give you a kiss on the cheek.

But either way you are going to have to ask her to be your girlfriend, she'll say yes. It'll become quality time and gifts that she uses to show she likes you.

#nami #nami x male reader #sanjionepiece #sanji x y/n #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji headcanons #sanji one piece #vinsmoke sanji #straw hat nami #nami x reader #nami headcanon #one piece nami #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffydmonkey #one piece luffy #one piece x y/n #open requests #luffy headcanons #one piece

[realcube]

'you're..you're wearing that-' he hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, 'for me?'

navi | taglist | nsfw part two

summary ➵ on your first date with tamaki, he’s already wondering why you romanticise a guy like himself

content warning ➵ reader wear make-up, a dress and the accessories pictured above, very insecure! tamaki, mild angst & fluff

credit ➵  thank you to @suneater18​ for the request and the pics belongs to hippieartesanatos

the moonlight penetrated through the sombre clouds which waved overhead, creating a picturesque night sky for you to admire on your date; as if the heavens were smiling down upon you, congratulating you for scoring such a nice guy.  

well, at least, that is what you would’ve thought if your date was sooner to start. currently, you were shuffling on a park bench, fidgeting with your phone as your eyes flickered between the screen and the gorgeous sight above you, anticipating when your date will finally arrive so you can admire it together.

however, twenty minutes had passed since nine o’clock — the time you had both agreed to meet each other at — yet you were still sitting alone, tamaki no where to be seen. what make it even worse was that he was ghosting all your messages and calls. 

perhaps it was the first-date jitters speaking but there was a voice lurking in the back of your head, whispering that you have been stood-up. however, you were too ashamed to just get up and leave now, so you figured that you may as well call your friend and ask them to join you.

your eyes burned with tears which you choked back as your fingers worked on their own to search your contacts for your friend’s number. there was a part of you that believed you were being to hasty but you truly couldn’t bare to just sit here and act ‘hopeful’ any longer. with shaky hands, you tapped your friend’s contact as your thumb hovered over the phone icon.

“(y/n)!” 

you froze upon hearing your name called from a distance, your immediate reaction being to whip your head around to see who — or what — was in such desperate need of your attention that they were willing to yell your name from half-way across the park. 

and of course, it was none other than tamaki amajiki himself; dashing towards you at full-speed in a torn suit, muddy shoes and..his hair seemed to be unevenly cut. he wore a determined yet petrified expression as he came hurdling in your direction, a single stray tentacle dragging behind him as he ran.

a smile of both confusion and relief tugged at your lips, the pads of your fingers dabbing lightly under your eyes to rid of any puffy skin or dampness while simultaneously ensuring that you wouldn’t mess up your lashes or eyeshadow. 

“tama! you’re here!” you squealed, your hands automatically clasping together in excitement as he approached the bench, about to fall into the seat beside you due to how tired he was but pausing as he watched you spring to your feet and open your arms for a hug. his lips slowly curled into a weak smile, his expression softening and he didn’t waste a single second before throwing his arms around you, pulling you in for as tight of a hug that his worn biceps would allow him to.  

despite the fact he reeked of an ungodly amount of body spray, you still basked his embrace since this is the moment you spent the last three hours or so preparing for. you were quite shocked at how shabby he looked but you decided against questioning it, out of courtesy. but on the bright side, it really made you feel better about the outfit you had spent hours styling, yet you were still not completely sure about.  

tamaki suddenly pulled away from the hug so he could fall back onto the bench, letting out a hefty sigh and momentarily zoning out in order to catch his breath. you weren’t too sure whether it was appropriate to giggle or pout at the sight so you chose to not do either and instead, just awkwardly stand and stare at him.

a sharp inhale was all tamaki needed before he was finally able to sit up slightly and bow his head, folding his hands to you before blurting out, “i am so sorry i’m late, (y/n)!” and before you could even get a word in, he began his breathless explanation, “i got a small tear in my shirt and mirio said he’ll fix it but he made it even worse. then nejire said she’ll style my hair but she only knew a few male styles and said my hair was too long and before i could say anything she was chopping away at my hair-- and somehow mirio’s dog got ahold of my suit and it made the tears even worse! i was so stress and y’know when i’m stressed i stress-eat, so i began eating fish snacks and before i even knew what was going on, it was nine o’clock. so i ran here as fast as i could and i tried to manifest tentacles to help me move faster but it turns out i didn’t eat enough fish snacks so i only have one tentacle and i can’t even move it properly- look!”

the fact he said all of that in seemingly one breath left you stunned in place, with you eyes fixated on his rapidly moving lips until they instinctively shifted onto his single tentacle, laying dejected by his feet until it started squirming around. however, that was all it seemed capable of doing — squirming. 

“uuh,” you hummed, trying your best to stifle a snicker as tamaki was clearly in genuine destress. “it’s fine, tama! i was a bit worried that you wouldn’t show but it doesn’t matter, you’re here now so let’s focus on that.” 

your words somewhat calmed him down as his shoulders visibly relaxed, his red eyes tearing off the concrete ground to meet your kind gaze. a slight gasp escaped his lips as he noticed how gorgeous your make-up was, but before he could utter a compliment, his eyes went further downwards as he tried to process the whole of your outfit.

his cheeks immediately burned red at the sight; your stunning purple dress, shimmering heels and matching crystal accessories which were evidently worn to complement his own aesthetic. a certain piece which he was drawn to, was the golden, gemmed ear cuff you wore with pointed tips to form a similar shape to his own ears — one of his biggest physical insecurities.

“you look..” tamaki mused, momentarily cutting himself off to think of a word that would do you justice, “perfect.” his voice was hushed, hardly above a whisper but you were still able to make out what he said and a sheepish grin crept onto your features.

“thank you, baby!” you chirped, perking up slightly and giving him a little twirl, causing a burst of red to explode on his cheeks which he was quick to try cover with his hands. it was moments like these when he wished that hoodies were first-date appropriate, that way he could just sink back into his hood and pretend he doesn’t exist.

“you look really nice too.” there was nothing wrong with a little white lie every now and again. however, it wasn’t even said with the intent of being a lie as you secretly thought that the scruffiness kinda suited tamaki, like, he looked badass! like your prince charming who accidentally fell into a ditch.

your compliment didn’t help the increasing temperature of tamaki’s cheeks either, causing him to slump farther back in his seat as he muttered garbled speech under his breath. it took a good few seconds but eventually he was able to peer at you with a single eye through the inbetweens of his fingers,  “a-and i like your little ear cuff thing.

everything he said only widened your beam and make you feel more giddy, to the point where you were practically bounced in place, “thanks, tama! i saw it and immediately thought of you, so i bought it.” you stifled a squeal at how observant tamaki was being, praising all the small details of your attire which you thought would go unnoticed. “i decided to wear it today because remember how you showed me the tie you bought for our date?” you explained, vaguely gesturing at said tie which hung in tatters around his neck, “yeah, so, i thought we could match.”

it took him a few moments to process what you just said and while his brain was running on overdrive, you were met by his rapid blinking and frozen stature. having known tamaki for a while now, you knew how this was a fairly common occurrence when was truly stunned by something, so you allowed him some time in silence to consolidate. 

“so..” he started, trembling hand dropping from his face and onto his lap so you could see his whole bashful appearance. his gaze seemed to be trained on the floor, until he finally looked up to reveal the twinkle in his eyes, “you’re..you’re wearing that-” he hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, “for me?”

the thought that you were ashamed to be with him was something that constantly taunted him from the back of this mind. you were heavenly in a way that his words simply could not describe, though that didn’t stop him from trying. it was beyond him how a person as divine as yourself would even give him the time of day; let alone insist that he was beautiful, leave encouraging notes in his locker, comfort him when he shows even the smallest sign of being upset, give him praise on all the thing he was insecure about and so much more.

when he looked in the mirror, he did not see what you see. he viewed his ears as creepy and not a feature he should put on display, hence a part of the many reasons why he’s so fond of his hood. but here you were, all dolled up in his favourite colour just to showcase that you were with him. your ears decorated with pretty cuffs that made them look a similar shape to his, at first glance.

when he’d walk beside you through the corridors of the school or under the shade of the trees in the park, he’d feel the eyes of jealous passersby burn holes through his skin; despite the fact you weren’t even dating him yet, people just hated seeing a guy like himself by your side, apparently. 

he stopped eating before meeting up with you so he wouldn’t have any weird manifestation that could draw attention to himself. he started wearing his hood up at all times so people wouldn’t judge him for his elven ears. he refused to touch you just in case people thought you were dating and became envious of him, which would quickly turn to hatred. 

so why would you want to look like him? why would you want people to know that you are on a date with him? why did you act proud to be with him?

you quirked a brow at how confounded he sounded, thinking over your answer with a hum; you wore this outfit for tamaki and yourself because you thought it was pretty and it suited you. however, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was no need to give tamaki the full truth right now so instead you allowed him to enjoy his rare surge of confidence by replying with simply, “yeah, for you.”

you weren’t going to be surprised that he was flattered, by now you were well aware that tamaki held all your opinions on him in high esteem so that’s why you always tried to be as nice to him as possible — that, and it was just in your nature to be kind towards him when he’s been nothing but respectful to you back.

however, what you didn’t expect was to hear faint sobs from behind his hands and watch as crystalline tears poured escaped from the inbetweens of his fingers, racing down the back of his hands. “tamaki..” you murmured, reluctantly taking a seat next to him to wrap your arms around, rubbing comforting circles in his shoulders like you usually did when he was sad. although, you weren’t even completely sure that he was disheartened by your statement. 

“i’m sorry.” you spoke in a hushed voice, leaning in close to his neck until your nose brushed against his skin, resulting in him tilting his head so it rested upon yours. “are you okay?”

“please don’t apologise.” he croaked, stifling his snivels to try show that he wasn’t upset. “you did nothing wrong. in fact, you’ve done everything right. i’m the one who’s been messing up.” he felt your hand ghost over his own and without a second thought, he intertwined his finger with your own, freeing his other palm to place it on your shoulder and exposing his pale, tear-stained face is the process. 

“i know it’s hard but you should tell me what’s on your mind, tamaki.” you hummed, gently caressing the back of his hand with your thumb and planting a kiss on the damp skin of his cheek. his cologne was still suffocating strong but if you were to die, it would ideally be while cuddled up to him, under the celestial night sky. 

opening up had never been an easy task for tamaki; especially about a subject that concerned his physical appearance and emotions. but there was a knot in his chest that would simply come undone when he was with you. he couldn’t explain it, but all the barriers and walls he had established to avoid getting his feeling hurt or heart broken would come crashing down whenever he was with you. perhaps it was a familiarity, maybe it was your reassuring presence or might just be pure love and adoration. 

either way, he found him himself babbling on about anything and everything that bothered him with little regard for his own pride or secrecy, he voiced every thought that came to his mind in the moment. he told you just about it all — all his problems and insecurities —and you listened, offering him encouragement whenever he’d cut himself off, saying something along the lines of, ‘i-i’ll stop now, i sound silly’ or ‘you’re probably tired of hearing me prattle on’. though, of course you didn’t want him to stop until he had gotten everything off his chest as it was a rare sight for him to talk for such lengths at a time so the last thing you wanted to do was discourage him.

“i just..” tamaki stammered, coming to the end of his passionate ramble, “don’t understand why you want to be seen with me, let alone wear those.” he raised his shaky hand from your shoulder to gesture to your ear cuffs, “don’t get me wrong, they look cute on you, but i just don’t get why you’d want to have ears that look like mine.”

“because yours are beautiful!” 

he winced at the compliment and at how sincere you sounded, “well, i’m glad you think that, (y/n).” he muttered, not even having to finish his statement as the dejection in his voice made it obvious that he did not view himself in the same light. his gaze dropped to his feet which were shuffling uncontrollably,  “i don’t know why i’m making such i big deal about this. aren’t you annoyed?” 

your let go of his hands only to slip them around his neck and pull him into your embrace, you felt him tense up in your arms but slowly allow himself to relax his cheek onto your shoulder. “i’m not annoyed, baby. i get what you mean and it’s horrible that you feel that way.” all tamaki could do would tick his tongue in agreement. 

“i know i tell you this all the time but i honestly think you’re so attractive, inside and out. i was so excited when you agreed to date me, i could’ve died of happiness on the spot!” you chirped, momentarily jerked your head backwards so you could peck the tip of his nose, giggling as he scrunched his face up cutely at the sudden touch.

your angelic laugh rung through tamaki’s head, forcing his lips into a smile as he gawked at your adorable action. “i love you..” tamaki uttered, raising his voice ever so slightly to ensure that you heard what he said, “so much.” thanks to you, his sobs were now just mere sniffles into the crook of your neck. 

you inhaled sharply, eyes-widening at his words; you would’ve never thought he would be the first on to say ‘i love you’, but you were far from disappointed, in fact you felt yourself melting further into his touch.

you felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing slowly retuning to it’s regular pace as he squeezed his eyes shut, cancelling out all his other senses so he could focus on the way your body felt against his own. 

he wanted to be confident. he wanted to take pride in himself for you. he was tired of restless nights filled with tears due to his worries berating him for simply existing in your presence. 

it wasn’t going to be easy but he needed to start acting on everything you said. because eventually, it wouldn’t just be for you, it’d be for himself.

and of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by you when he started wearing his hood less often, when he began holding his head up higher as he walks by your side, the way he now shoots warm smiles at people who try to glare at him.

and five years later, how he didn’t bat an eye at deadly glare that the waiter — that had been subtly flirting with you all night — shot at him as he got down on one knee, in front of the whole restaurant. 

#amajiki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #amajiki fluff #amajiki x y/n #bnha x y/n #amajiki tamaki x reader #bnha tamaki #mha tamaki #bnha x you #bnha fluff #tamaki fluff #tamaki x you #tamaki x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #mha fluff #tamaki amajiki #mha amajiki #amajiki x you

[yeojaa]

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse;  you were the weird girl in the park.  Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing.  myg x named f!reader.  s2l.

genre + rating.   college!au.  fluff, angst, smut.  explicit. 

tags / warnings.  light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!).  there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic.  i’m not sorry.  lol.

wc.  8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible.  You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink.  You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket.  Sometimes, he reads.  Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno.  Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes.  Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.  

They’re all interesting in their own ways.  

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts.  He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine.  He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them.  He reads a lot, too.  You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf.  Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool.  You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods. 

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party.  You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her.  He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip.  It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer.  He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be.  He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk.  You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more.  It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.  

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class.  You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model.  He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble.  It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person;  it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook.  They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them.  Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears:  boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black.  You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library.  You’re practically best pals by college standards. 

And then, of course, there’s him.  Your muse.  The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to.  The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them.  The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen.  The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible. 

Min Yoongi.  

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear.  You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes.  You sometimes add his glasses;  you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon.  You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day.  Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs.  You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all. 

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense. 

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.  

No, not getting caught.  Not in the traditional sense, at least.  He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day.  You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment. 

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is. 

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night.  You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots.  You were always so careful.  You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.”  You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream.  The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.  

“It’s here somewhere.”  The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”  

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…”  Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild.  “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers. 

Lucky for her;  unlucky for you. 

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly.  You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit!  Shit!”  Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag.  Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens.  You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.  

“Don’t forget,”  she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her.  “Thanks, Ji.”  You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.”  It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall.  Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.  

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples.  You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped.  You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!”  It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.  

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee.  You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless.  Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly.  You can’t deny you’re a little envious. 

“Your face is all red.  You’re out of breath.  Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess.  “No, I’m good.”  It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.  

“You sure?”  He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas.  He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist.  Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail;  he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.   

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you.  “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.”  There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge.  You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter.  You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake.  Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?” 

“Did you say…”  You can’t finish the sentence.  You feel like you’re about to be sick.  

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal.  It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips.  It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”  

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks.  At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy.  Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.  

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)  

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.”  As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half.  “You’re really good at capturing his boredom.  That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.”  You should make conversation;  it’s the polite thing to do.  

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook.  Better him than someone else, right?  Better him than Yoongi himself?  That’s what you tell yourself, at least.  

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay.  Semi okay.  Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse.  You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings.  “You have nothing to worry about.  I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him.  There’s nothing to say - not really.  You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making.  Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.  

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention.  It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone. 

“This is Miru.” 

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues. 

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.  

“Ohf, phey!”  With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables.  They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion.  He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly;  you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs.  “Sorry.  Hi.”  

“Do you want to join us?”  It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow.  “I’m Jimin, by the way.”  He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this. 

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery.  Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.  If looks could kill, you think.  

“Don’t worry about him,”  Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you.  It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice.  “Sometimes, he gets like this.”  

You want to believe it.  Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face.  Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top.  It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears. 

“I’m so sorry.”  It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.  

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.”  Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare.  He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words.  It’s not the Yoongi he knows.  It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.”  It’s thinner, but just as reproachful.  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth.  “Mean what?  Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.”  Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such.  Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce.  “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.”  Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises.  “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days.  Well, not really.  

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory.  You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries.  You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right.  Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.”  You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up.  From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate.  It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault.  And she had to pick up the pieces!  It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.  

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.”  She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green.  She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food.  “You can’t avoid him forever.”  

“I can try,”  you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.  

Try - and fail, it seemed.  You’d already run into him twice.  Twice!  Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.  

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize.  You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.  

The second time was yesterday afternoon.  You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up.  Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency.  You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face.  Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,”  Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness.  She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs.  It’s a bit dramatic, you think.  

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person.  Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”  

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump.  You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious.  “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.” 

It all falls into place then.  Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy.  It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her.  You’ve always had an unspoken agreement;  you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days. 

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things.  You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.  

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!”  She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice.  It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp.  You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh.  Dammit. 

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.  

Your heart stutters at the sight of him.  It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.  

“What?”  You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  You have nothing to be ashamed of.  At least, not right now.  You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.  

“I said—”  His words are glacial and biting.  It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be.  You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole.  You can’t be cold when you’re dead.  “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”  

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression.  It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth.  He says nothing.  

“Really.  I’m not.”  You’re insistent, apologetic.  Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red.  The tips of your fingers are tingling.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  You wonder if he’s baiting you now.  

“For…”   Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care.  “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,”  he returns, completely deadpan.  He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,”  you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful.  “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often.  So I couldn’t let it go.”  You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices.  “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears.  A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment. 

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately.  Fair.

“I’m sorry.”  Again.  More.  Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare.  “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry.  Really, really sorry.  Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face.  There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize.  You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more. 

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time.  It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle.  You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.  

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face.  “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame.  “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”  

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action.  He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days.  You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.   

“Then… can I sketch you?”  You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it.  You can’t help it. 

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity.  He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile.  “Maybe next time.” 

“Next time?”  You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that). 

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied.  He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully.  His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced.  He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.  

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot. 

Over time, though, it comes - comfort. 

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you.  It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun.  You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.  

You know he gets it, though.  He always does.  It’s a Yoongi thing. 

“You can relax.” 

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks.  The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree. 

“I am relaxed,”  he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up.  He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon.  Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class.  You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No.  You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.” 

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning.  It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side.  It makes your heart skip a beat.  

“Go ahead then,”  he continues.  The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow.  You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”  

You always offer.  He never says yes. 

A part of you thinks he likes the attention.  It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful.  You think he might like the quiet, too.  The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.  

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more.   “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”  

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue.  It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.  

“What?”  You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with.  “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.  

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour.  It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me?  Why not someone else?”  He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him?  Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,”  you answer, perhaps too honestly.  “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.”  How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel.  “I didn’t expect it to be you.  I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject.  But I just… couldn’t?”  

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?”  It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you.  He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.  

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning.  You’re not used to it and certainly not from him.  You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.  

You’re not weird.  You don’t want this to be weird.  But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time.  One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months.  “What if I told you I was glad?” 

“Glad?”  It feels like an echo chamber.  Repetition.  As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach.  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”  

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard.  “I’d say the same thing.  I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon.  He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you.  His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad.  You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”  

It’s not a surprise, really.  It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore.  Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…”  You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?”  The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope. 

“I’d say you’re welcome.  For choosing you.”  The confidence isn’t your own.  It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys.  Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness.  Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face.  It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade.  It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red.  “That’s it?”  

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him.  Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same.  In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important. 

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point.  “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once.  There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”  

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to.  It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun.  All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours.  It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard.  It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing.  “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,”  he states, solemnly.  You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind.  Not if it gets you another kiss.  

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust.  You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks.  You’d like to find out.  

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide. 

You don’t know how you ended up here.  

Actually, that’s a lie.  You do.  All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,”  he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.  

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.”  Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.  

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.”  To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.  

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said.  It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation.  Yoongi was only painting you.  This was a bonding exercise.  Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician.  Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”  It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow.  So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat. 

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.”  He levels you with a look.  You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful.  “I wanted to make something beautiful but…”  Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea.  “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.  

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands.  The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.  

“You’re silly.”  

“ You’re silly,”  he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

 The roll of your eyes is undeniable.  “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right?  Not your best choice, making fun of me.”  He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers.  Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist.  A line here, a circle there.  Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,”  he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint.  Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside.  He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.  

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs.  A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.  

“Can I take this off?”  It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours.  There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders.  He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him.  He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice.  It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine.  You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you.  You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside.  You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now.  Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?”  Mellifluous and adoring.  Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?”  He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs.  The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive.  He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.  

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.  

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses.  Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing.  He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin. 

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts.  It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder.  “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest.  You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.  

“I think I love you.”  It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.  

“I think I love you, too.” 

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away.  It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it.  He’d been your inspiration and now you were his.  The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.  

“You don’t have to say it back.”  It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.  

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight.  Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks.  “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness.  His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone.  He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins.  It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.  

But it’s not enough.  It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath.  “Please touch me.”

“Where?”  He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own.  He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect. 

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again. 

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him.  A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips.  He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs. 

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering.  The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.”  Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw.  “Then it’ll be a good death.” 

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body.  He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop.  A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.  

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit. 

“Do that again.”  He doesn’t need to tell you twice.  When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.  

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds.  Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience.  Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.”  Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence.  “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,”  you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact.  He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins. 

“Just tell me.”

“I want this.  I need this.”  You hope he believes you.  You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t.  “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this.  He loves it.  “I need to stretch you out.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks.  It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything.  He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.  

You’re a dream come true.  He never wants to wake up.

“More.  Please.”  You’re so polite, he almost laughs.  You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now.  He can’t deny how proud he is.  It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other.  You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot.  He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”  

Your nod is enough of an answer. 

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot.  In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning.  You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—”  Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles.  He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy. 

“Please, please, please.”  There are tears in your eyes.  You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping.  “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.  

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs.  You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin.  The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones. 

“Are you tired?”  Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips. 

You are, but it doesn't matter.  You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring.  A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes.  “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager.  He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless.  It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.”  So pretty, so ready.  He can’t resist.  

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand.  The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye.  It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.  

“I love you,”  you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too.  You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips.  “I know.”  

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest.  You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.  

“Holy shit,”  he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue.  “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him.  It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.”  It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind.  He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust.  It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt.  It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.  

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.  

“Yoongi - please.”  You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him.  His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high.  The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice. 

“One more, love.  Once more for me, okay?  I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over.  You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place;  it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.  

“I love you,”  he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow.  It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly.  Yoongi doesn’t mind though;  he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.  

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste.  He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair.  “So, thanks, Taehyung?”  

“Can you not?”  It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.  

“Sorry.”  A beat.  He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly.  “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note.  this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer​ and i kind of just...  ran with it.  oops. 

#thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #cypherwritersnet #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts fic #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi au #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic #suga au #suga imagine #suga fic #suga x you #suga x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #work.zip #oneshot.zip #suga.doc

[smiting-finger]

I tripped and I fell and this HP AU came out

So I was chatting to @silverink58​ about the beautiful original picture of Professor LWJ, and they were saying that when they picked up the prompt for the inktober exchange, they were hoping to read Hogwarts student!LWJ, 

And I thought “oh how delightful, maybe I’ll think about that idea later”, and then that “later” became “now” and what I’m saying is they shouldn’t have let me download the google docs app onto my phone, because I clearly cannot be trusted.

@silverink58​ this is for you, lol. Thanks for naming “Little Apple” :’D.

He almost doesn’t see it: a flutter of black fabric, the edge of a student robe before it slips away out of sight. But he catches the movement from the corner of his eye, and pure reflex has Lan Zhan drawing his wand to fire off a quick body-bind curse.

There's a muffled noise of surprise, abruptly cut off, and then the thump of a body hitting the floor.

When Lan Zhan turns the corner, it’s to the sight of Wei Wuxian, lying face-down on the ground.

“It’s after curfew,” Lan Zhan says, turning him over with a quick Levitation spell. “You should be inside your dormitory.”

Dark eyes glare indignantly up at him. Calmly holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze, Lan Zhan lifts the curse.

“Report for detention tomorrow,” he says, as Wei Wuxian sits up and pointedly rubs the small pink spot on his forehead.

“Lan Zhaaaan,” Wei Wuxian complains, giving the edge of Lan Zhan’s robe a beseeching tug. Lan Zhan feels his own lips thin at the over-familiarity of both the form of address and the physical contact. 

“Don’t be like that! Let me off just this once? Think of the five wonderful years we’ve spent together as potions partners!”

“Just last week, you exploded our cauldron,” Lan Zhan reminds him flatly, and Wei Wuxian grins.

“Oh come on! Let’s not harp on about petty things like that,” he says, pushing himself up onto his feet. He shakes out his robes. “You wanted to know what would happen if we added the xiezhi horn, too, just admit it.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t dignify this with a response, and simply meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze and holds it.

He is a Lan of Gusu.

He would never admit to such a thing.

Wei Wuxian pouts, reaches out a hand and uses two fingers to give Lan Zhan’s sleeve a pleading tug.

Lan Zhan sighs. 

After five years of being a detention hall regular, if Wei Wuxian was going to learn anything from writing lines, he would've done it already.

“Return to your dormitory,” he says, and Wei Wuxian smiles brightly.

“Yup, sure thing, absolutely,” he chirps, nodding in enthusiastic agreement.

He doesn’t move.

Lan Zhan looks at him expectantly.

Wei Wuxian blinks back at him with wide eyes.

Lan Zhan continues to wait.

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to sigh.

“Okay, fine,” he says, shoulders slumping in defeat as he turns back to his original direction and beckons for Lan Zhan to follow. 

“There’s just something I have to do first - I swear it’s important. You can come with me to see, if you want.”

-

It’s a … bird.

A hatchling, almost completely featherless, that Wei Wuxian has hidden in a corner of one of the lesser-used greenhouses, and has been coming to feed every four hours.

It’s also, Lan Zhan thinks, staring blankly at its oversized head, squat little body, gangly legs and stumpy wings, really-

“Don’t stare at it like that just because it’s ugly!” Wei Wuxian hisses, turning from pouring whatever paste he’s made down the bird’s throat to swat Lan Zhan admonishingly on the arm. “You’ll hurt its feelings!”

“You just called it ugly,” Lan Zhan feels the need to point out. “But I’m the one who’s hurting its feelings?”

“Well, it’s just a baby,” Wei Wuxian replies reasonably. “It doesn’t understand anything that’s not bird-language yet.”

“It doesn’t understand anything but bird-language,” Lan Zhan repeats disbelievingly, “but it’s offended by stares?” 

Wei Wuxian nods gravely. 

“Everyone knows that body language is universal,” he claims loftily and Lan Zhan suppresses the desire to roll his eyes.

-

“You can’t keep coming every four hours,” Lan Zhan says, after the bird curls up and goes to sleep underneath a heating charm and Wei Wuxian’s threadbare toy demiguise (“What? I didn’t know if Jiang Cheng and I were going to be in the same dorm, and I was scared of getting lonely at night! I was eleven!”).

“Well, I’m going to have to,” Wei Wuxian replies carelessly, and shrugs. “Or it’ll die.”

“Its parents?” Lan Zhan asks and Wei Wuxian shrugs again.

“Didn’t seem to have any,” he says, quietly getting up and beckoning wordlessly for Lan Zhan to follow. “I waited an hour to see if one of them would come back, but nothing did, and it was crying, so.”

The moon is full and bright, providing ample light to guide their way back to the dormitories even now that all the lights have been put out.

“I did some reading in the library,” Wei Wuxian says around a yawn. “As it gets bigger, feedings will get less frequent. I don’t know what kind of bird it is, but it should only be like this for a couple of weeks, at most.”

Even for a couple of weeks, it’s not sustainable, Lan Zhan thinks when Wei Wuxian begins to list into his shoulder as they walk. He’ll have to leave halfway through every meal and risk getting caught by the other Prefects at night. He won’t be able to get enough sleep, which will affect his classwork, and, in turn, his learning, his grades, his disciplinary record-

“You can’t keep this up for that long,” Lan Zhan states firmly.

Wuxian groans. “I told you, Lan Zhan, I can’t just let it-”

“I’ll help you,” he says.

“You’ll - wait, really?”

-

They name it Little Apple because Wuxian says he's no fun.

("We should call it Little Ginseng, because that's what it looks like - bald and lumpy."

"...No.")

When it gets big enough to have a personality beyond eating and sleeping, Little Apple is surprisingly sweet. It loves: cuddles, being hand-fed and chasing after a love-knot tassel that Wuxian charmed to dance around in front of it.

It hates: eating by itself, being left alone for too long, cats (after Headboy Jin Guangyao's familiar somehow gets into the greenhouse and they have a very near miss), and Lan Zhan and Wuxian arguing.

It absolutely refuses to go to bed without being personally tucked in.

Soon, it starts to grow feathers; brown and grey patches of down sprouting all over its body, enough that they can stop renewing the heating charm.

It doesn't get less ugly.

("As its mother, even I think it's hideous. We should've called it Little Dustball, but it's too late now ")

They do, however, become very fond of it nonetheless.

("Hey, Lan Zhan, look, we learned manners today!"

Wuxian bows to Little Apple, who bobs its head unsteadily in return.

"-Lan Zhan, what's happening to your face? Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, is that a smile?!")

-

They get caught.

"Wei Wuxian I expected no better of," his uncle growls after the greenhouse doors fly open to reveal his thunderous expression. "But Wangji, you are a prefect. I am deeply disappointed in you, sneaking off to the greenhouses at night to-"

Little Apple squawks. 

(Although its adult plumage has started to come in, there is no colour pattern that Lan Zhan can see; it has three red feathers on this wing, two on that one, small tufts of white in a patch on its belly and a scattering of green along its back.

“It’s … really not going to get better, is it?” Wuxian asks, sounding like he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.)

Lan Qiren stares.

-

"It's so…" his uncle says, still staring down at Little Apple, who squawks again and stares right back. "Ug-"

“Don’t listen to him, Little Apple!” Wuxian cries, hastily covering Little Apple’s ears with his hands. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts!”

-

And then one day Lan Zhan walks into the greenhouse and realises that Little Apple is ugly no longer.

Its wings are in fact red and black; red coverts edged with a line of striking black primaries and secondaries. A small plume of blue curls back off its forehead in a proud crest. The feathers on its back and shoulders are a shimmering emerald green, in some areas even tipped with gold, its belly is a soft pearlescent white, and its tail feathers are starting to lengthen into an impressive train.

Beside him, Wei Ying gasps and places a hand against his mouth, evidently coming to the same realisation. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, deeply moved. “Our son is beautiful.”

-

It still can’t fly, though.

“I wonder if I should get my sword,” Wei Ying says, after an afternoon of running around flapping his arms has yielded no results beyond Little Apple having the time of its life chasing a new, human-sized tassel around the grounds like a particularly speedy chicken. 

He flops backwards onto the grass. Little Apple promptly jumps on top of his chest and starts to preen his hair.

"Or what if I flapped my arms and you Levitated me," Wei Ying wonders, squinting thoughtfully. With a lazy wave of his wand, he Levitates Little Apple, who squawks angrily in protest until it's brought back within range of his ponytail.

Lan Zhan takes the opportunity to re-tie the bandage on his wrist, and can’t help but hiss slightly when he has to unstick it from his burnt skin. It’s not a serious injury - a small graze from a ricocheted spell he’d been hit with between classes, while stopping an altercation in the hallway - but he hasn’t had the time to visit the infirmary to have it healed yet.

When he looks up, Little Apple is right in front of him, staring up with glistening eyes.

“Aw,” Wei Ying says, propping himself up on one elbow and looking enchanted.  “Look, Lan Zhan, he’s sad that his daddy’s hurt!”

Little Apple rests his face on Lan Zhan’s wrist for a moment, then sits back up and gives a self-satisfied squawk.

Lan Zhan looks down and finds that his wrist is fully healed.

“Huh,” Wei Ying says.

-

It turns out that they don’t need to worry about the flying, because the following week, Little Apple, eye caught by a firefly, simply spreads its wings, pushes off Wei Ying’s arm and takes off after it.

“Well,” Wei Ying begins after a moment of stunned silence. “I-”

Then Little Apple’s tail promptly bursts into flames and blazes a bright trail across the night sky.

“LAN ZHAN,” Wei Ying screeches, grabbing hold of Lan Zhan’s arm and shaking it. 

“LAN ZHAN, OUR SON IS A PHOENIX!”

-

There’s no keeping Little Apple in the greenhouse after that. It comes and goes as it pleases with the blessing of even Lan Zhan’s uncle, who is kept mollified by the fact that Little Apple is a phoenix, as well as the steady supply of tears and feathers for the school. 

Both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying take to leaving their bedroom windows ajar so that Little Apple can come in to roost at night when it returns, which it always does.

Until, one day, it doesn’t.

-

The next month, the Ministry announces that the Wizarding world is at war.

(And then, on a random morning after WWX comes back, there’s a tapping at the window of their shared bedroom, Lan Zhan gets up to investigate, and----!)

#The Untamed #wangxian #HP AU #fml #fic #mo dao zu shi

[d0llhousess]

⇢ fandom: daiya no ace ⇢ pairing: miyuki kazuya  x f!reader ⇢ genre: angst ⇢ warning/tags: exes to friends to lovers, so much angst it’s ridiculous, angst w/ hopeful ending, mild language, pining, coffeeshop!au basically, pro player!miyuki 

⇢ summary: you met him at the wrong time of your life, yet fate has awarded you a second chance to fall in love with him once again. ⇢ word count: approx. 3k 

⇢ a/n: let me tell you, being hit with a massive wave of insecurity about your writing through the week you post the most is not fun but like yooo here we are. This is Day 3, and I hope you enjoy it! I’m not too happy with how this came out, but I do hope it reads well for you guys.

⤆ Back to Week of Fic’s Masterlist

It’s hard to recall the moment you first fell in love with Miyuki Kazuya. 

You were young, in your teens, navigating through highschool in the best way possible. He was just a mutual friend of yours; someone to just say ‘hey’ to  when you spoke to Kuramochi. You couldn’t quite remember what led to the two of you hanging out more and eventually going on a few dates, but you clearly remembered the emotions he elicited from you. 

Being with him made all your problems fade to the background, it made you feel, believe, that you were on top of the world. Being in love with Miyuki Kazuya was an experience like no other. Yet, you weren’t his first love. You didn’t hold his heart like he did yours, and eventually the dates faded. He stopped making time for you, and you stopped pushing to be a part of his life. In hindsight, your issues could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation, but both of you were young.  

So, instead of soft words explaining how neglected you felt, your feelings exploded into hurtful, sharp phrases that led to the demise of your relationship. Gone were the lingering touches in the hallways, the soft good luck kisses before a game, the playful teasing remarks between the two of you. He’d faded into a stranger, and when the both of you graduated high school, you stopped seeing him all together. 

There were nights you would replay your relationship in your mind, you would linger on your regret of never mending the bridge between the two of you, because him leaving your life left a slight hole in your heart. Yet, the loudest part in your brain never failed to remind you that communication was a two way street, and that if he truly loved you, he would’ve fought for your relationship. 

But that loud part of your brain didn’t stop you from scrolling though his Instagram feed in the late hours of the night. It didn’t stop you from lingering on the sports article that covered him going pro, and it definitely did not stop you from sinking into a deep funk when news broke of his engagement. 

If you were honest, you felt a bit pathetic. You were still hung up on your highschool sweetheart, and he was about to get married.     

Honestly, how pitiful could you get? 

So, instead of holding onto your dead relationship, you allowed yourself to relive the emotions the relationship elicited out of you. You allowed yourself to come to the terms that while Miyuki was terrible at communication, you were too. 

You both were too young, too immature,  for the seriousness of your relationship, and that was okay. It was okay that things didn’t work out. Sure, lighting doesn't strike twice in the same place, but you were too young to even realize that lighting had struck.  It was okay to have regrets because that’s how life was. It was rare to have the perfect conclusion to, well, anything, and with that realization you were finally able to move on. 

As the years passed, you chased your passions. You attended culinary school, and graduated which eventually led to you opening your own local cafe. It wasn’t much, but it was your own warm little abode that you’d built from the ground up. It was a physical representation of your hard work, and you couldn't be more proud of it. 

Through those years, you didn’t think much about Miyuki. You didn’t scroll through his feed for updates. When you saw a sport’s article with his name in bold letters, you’d turn away from it. He was a person of your past, and you were content with that. You didn’t need to know how he was doing, what he was up to, because you were over him. 

Well you were over him until he walked into your coffee shop. 

It was a normal winter day. The city streets have been recently plowed because of frequent snowfall; the air was bitingly cold, yet the warmth of your cafe brought in a decent amount of customers who couldn’t wait to get their daily fix of caffeine or sweet treat. 

Your mind had been occupied with getting each customer served, that when you heard the familiar chime of the front door’s bell, you only called out a light greeting, not looking up from the cash register as you logged in the current customer’s order. Yet, when you lifted your head, mouth parting to recite your practiced greeting to the next customer, you felt the words die on your tongue. 

Your eyes widened, gaze locking with bright amber eyes that you’d only seen in pictures over the past few years. Your heart speeds up in your chest, and it takes everything in you to still your shaking hands. Never in your life did you expect for him to waltz into your coffee shop, fixing you with that crooked smirk that always seems to make your thoughts stutter. 

You blink once, then twice, before you allow a professional smile to spread onto your face. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” You greeted, head tilting as you hoped  that he didn’t notice the way your brain short circuited just moments before, “What can I get for you, Miyuki?”

“I hope you aren’t saying I aged bad,” He immediately responded, drawing out a soft giggle from you. 

You shook your head, denying his claim, because no matter how much you did not want to admit it, he became even more handsome with age. You allowed your gaze to roam over his features as he gazed over the menu that hung above your head. 

You noted how he’d grown just a bit taller, how despite years passing he somehow had the same style of black frames that he had in high school, and how his features seemed to be more pronounced. Before you could linger over his face any longer, you quickly snapped your gaze to the digital screen of your cash register, because you could not be caught checking out your high school ex. 

“What do you suggest?” You hear him ask, and you lick your lip as you thought about your answer, recalling the seasonal drink options and your usual menu. 

“Well, what are you in the mood for?” You eventually respond, turning your gaze back to the man on the other side of the counter, “If you’re feeling festive we have an array of cinnamon or ginger based drinks, yet if you’re a fan of more simple drinks, we have your basic cappuccinos and lattes.” 

 Shifting your stance, you watch as he mulls over your response, eyes still firmly locked on the menu before he waved his hand in an indifferent manner. 

“Just make me your favorite drink.” 

You nod, immediately logging in the order, refusing to allow yourself to think too deeply about the request. He was just here to get coffee. He was just another customer. He was just Miyuki. 

After you told him the total and he paid, you began to work on his drink. You ignored the way he seemed to watch you buzz around behind the counter. You refused to glance at him again. No, you solely focused on the task at hand. 

Once you finished his order, you handed it to him over the counter, ignoring the slight sting of electricity that shot up your arm as your fingers brushed against each other. You watched as he brought the cup to his lips before taking a small sip of the drink, eyes fluttering shut briefly before they met your gaze once again. 

“Oh this is good,” He mummers, and you open your mouth to explain what's in the drink, yet he holds up his hand to stop you. 

“I don’t need to know what’s in it.” He explains, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. 

“But how will you order it again if you don’t know what it is?” 

Miyuki is quiet for a moment, bright eyes roaming over your face as he leans against the counter, “How often are your shifts here?” 

You blink at the question, a bit confused at what he was getting at, “Uh, I’m here nearly everyday.” 

The smirk that spreads onto Miyuki’s full lips and it lets know that you’d fallen for something, yet you’re still unsure of exactly what that something is. 

“Perfect, then you’ll just have to take my order every time I come, right?” He chirps, taking another sip from his coffee cup. 

“Um,” You begin to say, but before a full sentence leaves your lips, he’s already bidding you goodbye, leaving just as fast as he came. 

Throughout the rest of your workday, you’re plagued with thoughts about Miyuki and why on earth did he come to your cafe. Fuck, how did he even find out about your cafe. You attempted to push the thoughts away from your mind, yet they still plagued you even after you’d closed. 

The next day, Miyuki comes into your coffee shop again, but this time he lingers. 

It was a slower day for the cafe; your usual morning rush wasn’t that heavy so you knew who he was the moment the bell chime rang through the nearly empty coffee shop. Immediately, you began to go through the process of making his drink, handing it to him as you began to ring him up.

“Slow day, innit?” He commented, and a small smile played onto your lips.

“Yeah, but that gives me more time to do other things besides just making drinks,” You responded before telling him the price of his drink. 

He handed you the exact amount of money you’d said, causing your brows to raise in slight surprise, but you don’t comment on it. Instead of leaving right after he received his coffee, he remained in your cafe, eyes lingering on your form as you cleaned up your work space. 

He asked you questions, seemingly catching up with all of the things he missed in the years you’d grown apart, and fuck did this puzzle you. Why on earth did Miyuki just randomly breeze back into your life? Why was he behaving as if the last conversation the two of you held didn’t end in scathing words and tears? 

You wanted to ask him this, to demand answers on how he learned about your little cafe, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. You were afraid of the answers to those questions, and seeing him again, even for a few minutes, brought a sense of peace in your life. 

When you gazed into his amber eyes, you felt as if it was the very first time you’d seen him all those years ago. You’d missed the banter he brought, you missed his jeering, you missed him. You wished you could press rewind on the clock, to go back to the very moment of your relationship’s demise, yet you couldn’t. 

Besides, you were getting ahead of yourself. To him, you were sure he just viewed this as catching up with an old classmate. He was happily engaged, and just engaging in a purely friendly conversation. At least, you thought he was engaged until he informed you that he’d broken off the engagement nearly a year ago. You don’t have much time to respond to him after this confession, because he’s wishing you a goodbye. 

Yet, just like the day before, your thoughts are riddled with him. 

You can’t help the bubble of curiosity in your chest. Did he seek you out for a sense of familiarity after a failed engagement? Was it purely chance that he’d walked into your cafe? You didn’t know, and frankly you were slightly afraid of the answer, but you knew that you needed to ask him these questions. 

It takes weeks for you to build up the courage to ask him the questions that swarmed in your mind the moment he left your eyesight. 

Sure, he still came to your cafe, ordering the same thing nearly everyday, engaging you in light conversation topics that filled in the gaps of the years you’d miss of his life. He told you about university, about the pro league, about how he was in general. Yet, his engagement was never brought up. 

He’d ask you about your life, and you’d found yourself telling him about it rather candidly. You told him about the slight funk you fell into after graduation (of course you didn’t tell him the reason for the funk), about culinary school, about opening the cafe. 

The unspoken questions linger in the air between the two of you, and though you find yourself tentatively growing closer to the man that visited your coffee shop nearly everyday, there was something actively holding you back from him. 

So, when he walked through the door of your cafe after nearly a month of being your number one customer, you decided that this is the day that you’d ask the questions that’d been causing you to keep him at arm's length. You fall into the routine of fixing his drink, and as you hand it to him, instead of giving him your usual playful greeting, a question falls from your lips in a jumbled up mess. 

 “How on earth did you find out about my cafe?” 

Miyuki’s gaze widens behind those black frames, and his usual smirk is dropped from his face. The pair of you look at eachother, minds filling with unspoken words, and the nearly empty cafe is so quiet that you’re sure he can hear your heart hammering away in your chest. 

“How about we talk about this after you close?” He offers, and you nod as he paid for his coffee (the exact amount of cash like always), and bid you farewell. 

The rest of your day is spent in an anxiety induced haze, until you’re flipping the open sign closed. Nursing a cup of your favorite warm beverage, you wait for Miyuki at one of your window seats and a mere five minutes pass before he’s walking into the cafe, discarding his snow littered coat. He sits beside you, thanking you for the drink you’d prepared for him as well. 

The two of you are quiet, unsure where to start. Years of tension hang in the air, and you can feel your leg begin to bounce out of sheer nervousness. You hear Miyuki chuckle softly and your eyes shift to his grinning face. You raise a  singular brow in question, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s just funny how you still do that,” He comments, and you then halt your bouncing leg, soft laughter breezing through the warm air of the cafe. 

“You know what they say,” You responded, facing him fully with a soft smile, “Old habits die hard.”

Miyuki’s grin melts into a smile that mirrors your own, and just a bit of the tension dissipates. You open your mouth to apologize for the rather random question that led the both of you to your current position, yet before you can even utter a word, he begins to tell you about the events that led him to your cafe. 

He told you about how devastated your breakup left him, about how you broke his heart, about how he knew he broke your heart as well. He tells you about how thoughts of you plagued his mind all throughout your time apart, about how he yearned for a simple “do over.” Then, he begins to tell you about his  engagement. A part of you wants to tell him to stop, because you don’t want to hear about the man you’d loved for years falling in love with another person. 

Yet, you allow him to continue because he needs to get this off his chest, and you need to hear it. 

You listen to him as he recounts the engagement, at how the relationship deteriorated into something toxic simply because he refused to let go of his love for you. Your hands began to shake around your coffee mug as you listened to him admit that the reason called off his engagement was because of you.

You nearly begin to cry. 

You don’t know what to think, what to say. 

A part of you wants to throw your arms around him, to weep into his chest about how much you missed him, but another part needs him to finish recounting his tale. So you anchor yourself to your seat, encouraging him to continue. 

Finally, he tells you about how he heard about your little cafe. He tells you about how Kuramochi mentioned it in mere passing when they were catching up, and about how he couldn’t resist seeing you again.  By now, your heart is beating so heavily in your chest, that it’s nearly hard to breathe. 

Here he was laying his heart out bare for you to judge, to even reject. He wasn’t the boy that you’d turned your back on all those years ago. He didn’t brush off your questions with jokes, no, he answered them truthfully. 

He was being vulnerable with you, and never in a million years would you have expected Miyuki Kazuya to approach you with his heart in his hands. You exhale shakily, hands removing themselves from your now cool mug, before you placed a soft hand over his larger one. 

“Kazuya,” You breathed out, facing him fully, if he could bare his heart to you, then you could do the same, “I never stopped loving you.”  Your confession fills the air between the two of you, and your hand squeezes his closed fist that rested on top of the table.

 “Even after all these years, Kazuya,” You whispered to him,“I’m still in love with you.” 

A mere second passes before his lips are on yours, and the same electricity you felt clap through your body from your very first kiss with him, strikes through you. Goosebumps littered your forearms as you melted into his embrace, pressing your body even more closer to his. 

Apparently, lighting did strike in the same place twice.

#dayia no ace #dayia no ace x reader #diamond no ace #diamond no ace x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #one shots #nghts week of fics

[kuredono]

Sing Sing Sing [part 1 of penpals] | Fushiguro x gn!(clarinettist)reader

TW: mentions of throwing up, hospital despite the TW this is v fluffy! basically you and Meg have been penpals and you meet for the first time! but not in the way either of you would’ve imagined... 

"i think they're coming around now..."

"hello..?"

all you remember was taking a wrong turn down an empty alley on a sunny day, then you were in a cold building with an ugly looking monster holding the back of your neck.

you grasped at a knee, or maybe an arm, squeezing as your felt your stomach churn, though you kept your lips pursed together, willing for it to stay down.

"i think they're gonna be sick..."

"GOJO-SENSEI! HELP! THE CIVILIAN IS GOING TO THROW UP!"

fresh air suddenly hit your face and you threw up in a bush before everything went black again.

"-the thing up. afterwards it was pretty easy to deal with."

"you say that, but the civilian still got injured."

"hey! i didn't see you trying to catch them."

"i had my hands full already!"

your eyes were immediately assaulted with the bright sunshine as you tried to crack them open. you decidedly kept them shut and moved your lead weighted arms to cover your eyes.

"oh?"

"you awake?"

"what happened?" was all you could ask. you had tried to beat the ugly thing with-

"my clarinet!" you bolted up, eyes wide open and met with three equally wide ones (person one had a black blindfold?), but suddenly your head exploded with pain.

"go slowly. you hit your head pretty hard." a voice said as you groaned, squeezing your temples with your trembling hands. "do you remember what happened?"

"got lost walking back. woke up in a weird building and there was a funky looking thing. tried to run away, then some people turned up and the thing exploded. kinda gross."

"gross?!"

"i mean, they are super gross." 

"where are we? what's going on?" you dared to open your eyes again, more slowly, as you took in your surroundings. you were sat on the floor, leaning against a big black dog. how cute. you nuzzled your head into its fur, easing your killer headache. 

"we're in Akihabara, and i think you're concussed. we'd like to take you to a hospital." the one with white hair and the blindfold spoke with a kind smile.

"who are you?" you furrowed your brows together, feeling like you should run away because stranger danger ! but the dog was comfy, lulling you to sleep.

"ah, i'm Gojo Satoru, i'm a teacher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School, and they are my first year students. we were out on a field trip when we found you." the white haired male answered again. he was a teacher? you'd never be able to guess.

"Jujutsu Tech High School?" you repeated, the name distantly ringing bells. you turned your attention to the students. "i recognise that uniform."

"we've been in Akihabara and around Tokyo before! did you see us then?" the pink haired boy asked with a bright smile. you buried your face into the dog with a thoughtful hum.

"it's only natural we stand out you know!" amother voice voice sung.

"never in a good way." a calmer voice grumbled.

"i guess i just exude that kind of eye-catching aura."

"it's easy recognise beauty such as mine."

how did you get here? why was this happening to you? you were just performing with a marching band this morning, doing your absolute best and playing your loudest for someone. you wanted to stand out for someone. he said he'd come by but didn't. you weren't disappointed... well... you were, but you understood he had his reasons. he probably had classes because it's Thursday.

"Megumi Fushiguro?" you mumbled, the students around you falling silent.

"what did you say?"

"oh yeah, in Japan you say it the other way round don't you?" you chuckled, remembering how embarrassed you were when Megumi cared to point that out when you were discussing nicknames. "Fushiguro Megumi. think he goes to your school."

it was quiet for a moment before the students erupted into excited chatter, 

"Fushiguro! you know them?"

"why didn't you tell us!"

"what? i - i don't—" the calm voice was not calm, but his breath stuttered, "Y - Y/N?"

you had first met Fushiguro via letter in first year middle school, your middle schools partners for a penpal project. you had sent the first letter and even went through the extra effort to try and make a translation, though your characters were very messy so you made sure to also send the English original in case it was unreadable. it was nearly a month before your class got their responses, and it appeared you were the most lucky as Fushiguro's English was far better than your Japanese, and when comparing letters with your classmates, you had the most interesting response.

nearly a year and 7 more letters later, you were the only one in your class still in touch with your penpal, and with the year drawing to a close, the teachers explained that you could only send one more letter. so with a wish, you sent your phone number and downloaded several Japanese chatting apps. sure enough, 2 weeks later, there was a friend request on LINE from a Megumi Fushiguro. his profile picture was just a night sky, but you couldn't say anything, yours was sheet music. this anonymity continued indefinitely. at first you had no idea how often he was okay with you messaging him, and you added the Tokyo timezone to your clock app so you didn't message him at ungodly hours, but after a few months, Megumi would be your first thought when you saw a cute cat or something and you'd quickly snap a photo to send him. he also did the same, mostly pictures of the sky.

on Megumi's birthday, you sent a recording of you playing his favourite piece on clarinet, and for your birthday he sent you a playlist of songs he thought you would like. from then on, you continued to send him your repertoire and small recordings of your practices. then one day, when you talked to him about your most recent performance, Fushiguro asked for the link to the video. you did, but didn't tell him which clarinet player you were. he didn't ask either. you toed the border of your anonymity when you first moved to high school with a picture of you in your new marching band uniform, but from the neck down. you weren't expecting a photo back, but he surprisingly sent one back of his uniform from the neck down. his uniform looked much comfier.

then a spot for a Japanese high school exchange opened (one of the main reasons you chose to attend the high school you did), and though it was for second years, you fought and won the spot. you immediately messaged Fushiguro without checking the time in Japan. and as if that wasn't enough, the wind band in your Japanese high school were having a performance in Tokyo! Fushiguro was in Tokyo! you told Fushiguro, but then dread began to pool in your stomach. what if he didn't want to meet? you were totally fine with that. but you wanted to so badly! you remember your elation when he stopped you mid-anxious text ramble to say he would meet you.

you woke up to a white ceiling and the potent smell of disinfectant. the hospital curtain slid open to reveal a beautiful boy with deep blue hair and long eyelashes, his eyes widening at you.

"ah- good afternoon."

"good afternoon, how can i help?" you smiled, "i think you might have the wrong bay?"

"no. i- uh- do you remember what happened? do you, do you remember me?"

"um... no? i'm not really sure what you mean? i mean, i recognise your uniform- do you go to Tokyo Jujutsu Tech High School by any chance?"

"they said you would be concussed and you might have some memory problems..." the boy mumbled, "is it alright if i sit down?" your eyes darted to the curtain in panic, "ah, i'll leave the curtain open, our teacher is just signing you out the hospital, i'm Fushiguro Megumi."

"Megumi?!" you gasped, the boy smiling softly as you fumbled for words, "i- you- huh?"

"yeah... we have a lot to talk about."

"then, please! sit! i can't believe!" you covered your mouth with your hand, which did nothing to muffle your delighted squeal as he sat in the chair next to your bed. "wow. i mean, it's so nice to finally meet you in person!"

Megumi couldn't help smiling too.

"it's nice to see you too... and i'm sorry i didn't make it to your performance."

"hey, it's okay! we still met up!" you grinned brightly. Megumi then found his hands very interesting.

"and, um... your clarinet is broken..."

"that--" will be very expensive, the thought alone bringing tears to your eyes- your precious baby! it was worth more than your entire wardrobe and shoes! but you shoved that thought away until later. Megumi was here now, visiting you in hospital. "-actually, why am i here? what happened?"

Megumi thankfully didn't push the topic of your clarinet and gladly filled you in on what had happened. by the end of his explanation, you had your face buried in your hands.

"i'm so sorry you had to see that."

"it's fine, i've seen worse. besides, you were concussed, it's normal."

"still..." you whined, peeking between your fingers to find him offering you a hint of a reassuring smile. you gave in with a sigh, "i must say, that's some weird religion you have and they teach you, no offence."

Megumi chuckled, eyes distant, "you're right, it is pretty weird."

"but, um, thank you for saving me Megumi." said boy snapped back into reality very quickly, his cheeks flushing red as it dawned on you that everyone probably called him by his last name. "or do you prefer Fushiguro? am i pronouncing it right? sorry, i got used to-"

"it's fine." he uttered out, "Megumi is fine."

"what about honourifics?"

"whatever you're comfortable with."

"then... Megumi-kun? or is that too weird?"

the boy's cheeks darkened, "it's fine..."

"then you can call me Y/N-chan! then it's not as weird right?" you suggested, starting to feel the second-hand embarrassment.

"yeah." Megumi flinched too much when his phone chimed, and he hurriedly read it over. "Gojo-sensei -my teacher- said he's signed what you need to let you out. you just need to sign a few things before you go."

"right." well, the moment had to end at some point. you couldn't stay in the hospital bay forever. it was just an amazing coincidence that you had met Megumi, so you should be thankful you even had the opportunity to speak to him like this. "am i okay to move?"

"um, i'll call a nurse."

Megumi stepped out as you were examined by the nurse, and you saw him again in reception as you gave him and his teacher a thumbs up before signing the hospital forms.

"thank you very much for everything you've done. i'm so grateful. and please pass my thanks on to the other first years!" you bowed formally to the pair, Megumi flushing red while his teacher just waved you off.

"no worries. sorry about your clarinet and the concussion." the teacher responded.

"it's fine, i was always told i have a thick skull! comes in handy sometimes."

"i have to go now, but Megumi will walk you to the station, right?"

Megumi scowled at his teacher with an unreadable look in his eyes which seemed to make the teacher's smile brighten.

"well it was nice to meet you sir!" you bowed again at the adult, who nodded to you.

"nice to meet you too! hope you enjoy Japan. Megumi, be nice."

Megumi glared at the older man as he skipped away, seemingly pleased with himself for winding the younger up. Said male sighed.

"you don't have to walk me back if you're busy, i have GPS on my phone."

The boy startled at your comment, brows furrowed, before shaking his head, "it's fine, it's no trouble. i would feel better if i walked you to the station at least."

you couldn't stop the wide smile stretching on your lips, "thanks!"

"it's nothing."

you mentally thanked all the deities for letting you spend a little longer with your penpal, chatting easily as if you hadn't just met him less than 10 hours ago. by the time you had made it to the station, you had mentally prepared to part.

"so... i guess this is it?"

"yeah..."

"it was so nice to meet you- i cannot fully explain how nice this has been! even if i did spend a while in a hospital." Megumi chuckled at your words. you felt your cheeks heat up, his smile squeezing at your heart.

"i feel the same."

your train arrived.

"well. i'll message you later then?" you grinned hopefully, Megumi nodding. "hug? or do you not do those? i don't mind."

you nearly burst out laughing at the rush of emotions that flickered in Megumi's eyes- mostly panic. he blinked out his state when a giggle slipped out. he flushed red but nodded stiffly, opening his arms for you. you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his wrap behind you too, surprisingly quickly considering how awkward he was at first. keeping it short because of the train behind you, you pulled away to find him also smiling. so he did like hugs.

"until next time?"

"yeah."

the doors shut and you waved to him as the train set off. and that was that.

your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Megumi: the school offered to pay compensation for the damages to your clarinet, so please let me know if and when you're free to go to a music shop in Tokyo to buy a new one.

sorry this hasn’t been proofread and the ending is kinda rushed because i just really wanted to publish it hahaha (catch me constantly editing this for DAYS now, so i probably shouldn’t post it but we die like men)

#penpals #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #fushiguro megumi #x reader #gojo sensei #itadori yuuji #kugisaki nobara #fluff #idk how to tag: a series #just wanted to write fluff #high school romance #hospitalisation #concussion #jjk megumi #jjk #jjk x reader

[ghostpeblewrite]

Paradoxical - Chapter 11

~~~~~~

Toast doesn’t remember getting into bed, but he wakes up and finds himself there. He lays awake for a bit, unsure of what woke him. Could’ve just been his own mind. It feels so foggy and heavy.

He’s made aware of what woke him when it sounds again. A small shuffle out in the hallway. Weird…

By the looks of it, it’s late at night, so neither Spooker or Colon should be awake. He sighs, forcing himself to get out of bed. He tries his best to ignore how empty the bed feels, forcing himself to not think about… It.

He grabs a flashlight from his bedside table, not aware enough to grab a weapon too. He shuffles to the door, opening it lazily. He doesn’t wanna be doing this, but he feels he has to. He shuffles down the hallway quietly.

He gets to the end, where it opens up into the living room, before things start happening. To his left he hears something hit the ground, causing him to jump. He swings the flashlight beam that way, seeing a picture frame on the ground. He shuffles over to it quietly, bending over to pick it up before hearing a creak behind him. He turns around, swinging his flashlight beam over the room. He doesn’t see anything.

He’s a bit on edge, but pushes on. It’s… It’s probably just some stray or something… Yeah…

He moves towards where he heard the creak, only to feel something brush his back. He spins around.

There’s nothing there. He relaxes a bit. Probably just… imagining things.

A figure shifts at the edge of his light. Toast moves it onto the figure, only for the figure to dart out of view. He tenses.

There’s definitely something in the house with him. He starts backing down the hallway, only to run into something. Something that reaches around with a pale, scarred arm to snatch his flashlight. Toast tries to grab it back but it’s too late. It’s flicked off, and thrown somewhere.

Toast tries to lunge forward and grab the figure, but they back out of range. They scamper away, towards the room with the control panel in it. Toast scrambles after them.

He has no idea who it is, but he can’t let them turn the barrier off.

When he gets in the room, however, something hits him in the side of the face. He falls to the ground, pain exploding through his jaw. He sees the next moments through blurry vision, so at first he doesn’t even believe it.

In an instant, a new figure appears. A very familiar figure.

The new figure delivers a hard blow to the first one’s face, causing him to fall to the floor, limp. Then, the second figure rushes to Toast. As they get closer, they get clearer, dimly illuminated by the control panel.

Toast can make out the smile first, cut on one side by a scar. Light stubble. The scar across the nose bridge comes next.

Then the eyes. So warm, and full of love, yet also frustration. The dark, furrowed brows, the shaggy reddish brown hair-

“Ghost,” Toast says softly, barely letting himself believe it.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says quietly, then does something Toast was not expecting. He places his hands on either side of Toast’s face, pulling him into a gentle kiss.

Toast can feel so many things. Other than Ghost’s warm hands on his face. Mostly, his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

He pulls away too soon, beginning to talk way too fast for Toast, who is still processing what just happened.

“This is the last time, I swear to god,” Ghost says quickly, “If I have to go through this one more time I’m gonna lose it. I can’t do this again. This is the last time.”

“Wh- Sir-” Toast says, grabbing his hands, sitting up straighter. “Slow down- Did you just kiss me-?”

Ghost stares a moment before laughing, his face breaking into that wonderful, if rare, smile again. Toast wishes it weren’t so dark, so he could see it better.

“Right- Yes, I did, but I don’t have time to explain all that right now-” Ghost says.

“Sir!” Toast says, feeling a smile on his own face. “You… Kissed me!”

Ghost chuckles, though it sounds a bit strained, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Toast’s nose, “Alright, Johnny, alright.” He stands, holding a hand out for Toast, who takes it with a stupid smile on his face.

“I need you to do something for me, okay? And then I promise I’ll explain,” Ghost says.

“I thought you were dead… And then you kissed me-” Toast says, sort of in a daze.

“Oh- Okay, Johnny,” Ghost grabs his arms, “Hey, listen to me, I need you to wake up Spooker and Colon, okay? Bring them to the living room.”

Toast nods, the smile not leaving. Ghost nods back, letting go of him. Toast heads off to where Spooker and Colon sleep.

Ghost looks down at the limp body on the floor. He hates what he has to do, but he knows by now what he has to do. He’s tired of restarting when he messes up. He’s doing it right this time, even if it kills him.

Soon enough, Toast has the other two in the living room, half awake. Toast’s still buzzing from what happened, but he’s a bit more in the moment.

Ghost rushes in, adjusting his gloves a bit, “Alright, team, listen up-”

“GHOST??!!” Spooker yells, jumping to his feet. Ghost’s eyes widen, and then he lets out a grunt as Spooker barrels into him, hugging him a bit too tight.

“Heyyyyyy, Spooks,” Ghost says, patting Spooker’s back a bit. Toast is shocked by that, usually Ghost would’ve shoved him off by now.

“You were gone for so long!!” Spooker says, pulling away, “We were worried!!”

“Yeah, what was with that?” Colon asks.

Seeing as the conversation has derailed so much, Toast expects Ghost to yell, but not for the first time that night he’s surprised.

“I uhm… It's a long story, you guys,” Ghost says, “One I don’t have time to tell.” He glances at the clock quietly.

“But you will later, right?” Spooker says.

“Yeah, of course,” Ghost says, reaching out to ruffle Spooker’s hair using that as a chance to shove him away a bit. “Sit back down.”

Spooker sits.

“Right, so, in about,” he glances at the clock, “A few minutes, the opposing side will attack. We have very little chance of surviving this, but as a team we can get through this, alright?”

“But- Sir, who even are they?” Toast pipes up.

Ghost eyes him, “You already know two- Gavin and Jimmy.”

“But- Jimmy’s dead,” Colon says.

Ghost cracks a small smile. He suddenly pulls a gun from his pocket- Isn’t that the gun Toast keeps in his bedside table??- pointing it at the hallway behind him, not even looking. “No he isn’t.”

There, at the edge of the hallway, is Jimmy, posed like he was about to lunge at Ghost. Ghost looks back at him. He takes a second to just… look at him, before nodding his head at the door. Jimmy stares at him. Ghost motions for him to move towards the door with the gun, and Jimmy starts moving slowly.

“Sir-!” Toast protests, “We can’t just let him go-!”

“We have to,” Ghost says through gritted teeth, watching Jimmy scamper out the front door. He pockets the gun again, staring at the door. He takes a deep breath.

“Right,” he turns back to them. “Now-”

“Wait, but I snapped his neck,” Colon says. “How was he alive???”

“He’s very bendy,” Ghost says simply, “Now, we need a gameplan. Toast??” He looks at Toast before he’s even moved.

“Oh- Uhm, I was thinking of one, yes,” Toast nods.

“What is it?” Ghost asks.

“I mean, we could surprise them, sir. They probably don’t know you’re… Alive, so if we could draw them out and then surprise attack them, that… Could work?” He shrugs.

Ghost smiles, grabbing his arm to pull him closer, pulling him into another quick kiss. “That’s exactly what you needed to say, Johnny!”

Toast stares at him, red faced. Yet another time he was not expecting that.

“Hey-!” Spooker jumps up again, “You can’t do that!”

Ghost looks at him, “And why is that, Spooker?” He sounds like he knows exactly what’s going to happen.

“Because Toast is married!!” Spooker cries, “To- To a child slave!!”

“Yeah!!” Colon says, standing as well.

Toast stares at them for a moment before Ghost nudges him in the ribs.

“I- Y- What-?” Toast sputters. “Child slave??”

“Yeah! We saw the marriage papers!” Spooker says, “‘Gregory Casket’, he was a missing child!!”

“Oh- You saw that and didn’t think to come ask me-??” Toast sighs, “Guys, no. Gregory Casket is Ghost’s legal name.”

“Wait-” Spooker looks between the two, “But- Ghost isn’t wearing a ring-!”

Before he’s even finished the sentence Ghost has started taking his glove off, holding his hand up. There’s a silver wedding band on his ring finger.

Spooker stares.

“So- What, you two just got married and didn’t tell us???” Colon asks.

“Tax benefits,” Ghost says quickly, glancing at the clock as he puts his glove back on. Toast nods, smiling a little.

“Right, now that that’s out of the way- Spooker, why don’t you come into the kitchen with me?” Ghost starts backing towards the kitchen.

“Okay!” Spooker smiles, following.

Toast watches the two go, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Ghost is… something, that’s for sure.

“Right, Spooker,” Ghost turns to them once they’re in the kitchen, out of earshot of the other two. “I have a super secret mission for you, okay?”

Spooker gasps, “Really?!”

“Yes, really!” Ghost nods. “I need you to come up with a super secret backup plan, in case Toast and I need help, okay?”

Spooker nods, “Okay!! Can I tell Colon though?”

“Yes, you can tell Colon,” Ghost says, “Just… remember what ghosts are weak to.”

Spooker looks away from him to think. Ghost nods, heading out of the kitchen.

Another thing checked off. Nearly halfway.

Ghost feels so tired. He’s been through this so many times, and he’s so tired of watching the people he loves die. He’s doing it right this time, no matter how much he hates it.

He’s learned his lesson.

~~~

O.O

#cw cursing #tw swearing #hehehehehehhehee im evil #im so evil #hahahahahhahahahahahahahah #HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH #paradoxical story

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Finally, Chapter 5 is here! It’s been so long lol. I know I said it would be out last Monday, but finals week and the new semester were crazy and I kept forgetting to queue it up! This chapter does deal with some more serious topics, so please be mindful of that (more info in the warnings down below). Anyway, here it is! I hope you all like it! (Also I think I’ll be posting chapters once every other Monday, so hopefully I’ll remember to stick to that!)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Bullying; homophobia and homophobic slurs; description/scene of a panic attack; and swearing. (If there’s anything else, let me know!)

Word Count: 1678 words

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

CHAPTER FIVE

Virgil expected it to be a normal day. 

There were no signs that it was going to be important, so why would he think that it would be anything other than ordinary? Ever since Roman had joined them at the cafe, things had been going on as normal except for how he and Roman were actually talking now and then. And even that he’d gotten used to.

The day before, Roman and Patton had come to the cafe again, and Virgil was actually glad they did. Patton was still a ray of sunshine, but Roman seemed to be getting better. Or maybe he had been better all along, and Virgil was just now realizing it. Either way, things were changing, but not much and not necessarily in a bad way.

Yes, things were going good in Virgil’s world. 

That morning, Virgil got up at 6:45, right on time, and dressed in black jeans, a Panic! shirt, and his favorite sweatshirt. While checking his phone, he walked downstairs for breakfast. He ate his cereal and then went back upstairs to brush his teeth and finish getting ready. After making sure he had everything he needed for the day, he headed out, his mom’s voice telling him to have a good day from somewhere in the house. He drove to school without incident, although his usual parking spot was taken, so he had to park a few spots farther away. Logan was standing by his locker when he got to school, like usual. Just like every other day, they walked to class together, and afterwards, parted their separate ways: Logan to chemistry and Virgil to art. 

Things went according to the norm, following the routine that Virgil knew well. Life could’ve been a little more interesting, but then again, he didn’t find it entirely unpleasant. Even when Tommy and Timmy Wallace started making fun of him, it wasn’t that out of the blue. They had taken Roman’s place as the local asshole when he stopped being a bully at the beginning of high school and were set on making Virgil’s life hell.

Virgil’s standing at his locker, digging through his stuff, looking for a folder when Tommy sneers, “Oh, look, Timmy! It’s the emo cock-sucker.” Behind him, he hears Timmy laugh. Heaving a sigh, Virgil turns around, slamming his locker shut, only to find the twins almost nose-to-nose with him. Well, they would’ve been if Virgil wasn’t a whole head shorter than them.  

Glaring at them, Virgil says, “Get out of my way.” He’s carefully controlling his anger, making sure that he doesn’t explode. That would do no good.

“Aww, is poor baby Viwgil getting angwy?” Timmy mocks in a baby voice. He jabs his twin in the side, laughing. Tommy jabs him back. Unconsciously, Virgil’s hands ball into fists. You can’t get angry. You gotta relax. C’mon, Virgil. He grits his teeth, but because he was frustrated at himself, not angry at the twins.

Unfortunately, Timmy notices the actions and points it out. 

“Ahah! Are you gonna fight us, Virgil? Think you can win? Huh?” Timmy is up in Virgil’s face, so close, Virgil can see his spit flying everywhere when he talks.

Ignoring them, Virgil pushes past and starts walking down the hall. I can’t win. It’s a shot at his pride to walk away, but there’s no way he can beat the two star football players in a fight. I just have to ignore it. Virgil’s had a lot of experience being made fun of, but it never gets easier to face. It just gets easier to ignore.

“Hey!” A hand grabs Virgil by the elbow. It whirls him around so he can see the twins’ smirking faces. “Where you going, faggot? Thought you wanted a fight. Huh?” Heart racing, breath quickening, Virgil feels the panic building in him. Keep it under control. 

“Leave me alone,” he tries to say. Nothing comes out. Virgil can’t tell his body to move. Or walk away. Or do anything. The things running through his brain are going too fast. There, then gone. No, is the only thought that sticks.

Virgil sees their mouths moving, but can’t hear what they’re saying. Everything else is too loud. The pounding of his heart. His breaths, coming much too fast. Students talking, yelling. Lockers slamming. No. No. No, no, no no no nononononono. Why can’t the world just slow down. People bump into him. Every time, he flinches, drawing inward. Just have to make myself smaller. Timmy and Tommy are still talking. Virgil still can’t hear them. 

“Timmy! Stop!” a voice calls. This, Virgil hears. A hand reaches out to turn the boys away from Virgil. The only thing visible is wavy brown hair and tan skin. The twin’s shoulders block out everything else. He doesn’t know who it is. Doesn’t care who it is.

In four, he thinks, breathing in deeply. Hold 6. Out 7. He lets the air out in a cascade. Before he can begin hyperventilating again, he repeats the exercise. The noise of the hallway is too loud. His breathing won’t slow down. Come on, Virgil! Goddammit! Get it under control! 

The twins are still wrapped up in their conversation with Roman Princeford. He must’ve been the voice. But Virgil doesn’t have time to wonder why Roman stood up for him. Not while tears are flooding his eyes. Not while he’s fighting them back. Not while the din of the hallway is crashing around him. Not now. 

Virgil hurries out of the main part of the hallway and stands by the door to a janitor’s closet. The walls turn, forming an indent around where the door is, and feels almost like a shield. Trembling hands pull his headphones from his bag and slide them on his head. Tears blur his vision and his fingers shake as he fumbles for the video he’s trying to find. 

Finally, he finds it. The soothing sound of pouring rain fills his head. Soft piano drifts in the background. Dropping his phone on the ground and closing his eyes, Virgil pictures the rain streaking down a window. Slow and soothing and familiar. In 4, hold 6, out 7. Little by little, he starts to calm down, heartbeat returning to its normal pace, breaths slowing until the dizziness goes away.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he sat on the floor, but there’s a gentle tap on his shoulder. When he opens his eyes, Roman looks concerned. Pulling his headphones around his neck, Virgil begins to stand. 

“Are you o—Are you doing better?” Roman asks, looking almost awkward. Even though Roman helped him, Virgil almost scoffs. Of course I'm not okay, dumbass. He does have to give him credit for switching his words, though. And some part of Virgil doesn’t blame Roman for being so awkward. It’s a strange situation to be in. One Virgil wants to get out of. And fast. 

“I’m fine. I need to get to class,” he responds, voice tense and snippy. The bell hasn’t rung yet, but it will soon, and Mrs. Bartleman’s classroom is far away from Virgil’s locker. He slings his bag over his shoulder and leans down to grab his folder. 

Papers spill out over the ground, and Virgil realizes, too late, that he grabbed the folder on the bottom. Dropping to his knees to pick it up, he grits his teeth in frustration. A groan slips from his throat.

“What are you doing?” he snaps at Roman, who’d bent down to help. 

“Picking your things up,” Roman replies, looking at Virgil, seeming puzzled. Refusing to look at him, Virgil reaches out to grab more paper. He is sorry for being so rude to Roman just now, but his annoyance at Roman constantly trying to be the knight in shining armor combined with his embarrassment at what happened earlier doesn’t help his temper.

“The bell is going to ring soon. You’re going to be late for class.”

Roman must realize that Virgil’s trying to get him to leave because he stands up, leaving his stack of papers on the ground.

“Right. I should be going.” There’s something almost like hurt in Roman’s voice. Virgil looks up on instinct. Roman’s face is crestfallen, mouth turned downward, eyes sad. Guilt pangs through Virgil’s chest yet again when he sees. He almost takes his words back, but Roman turns away before he can. The metallic sound of the bell echoes throughout the hallway. 

“Fuck,” Virgil mumbles, reaching out to finish picking up.

Once the rest of the papers are back in his folder, Virgil stands up. He stares at Roman’s back, far down the hallway, distance increasing the longer he waits. The regret and guilt swirl into a knot in his stomach. Biting his lip, he takes a chance.

“Roman!” he yells, jogging down the hall. Roman turns around, and Virgil stops, even though there’s still a few feet between them. “Why did you stand up for me?” He steels himself for the worst. What if he blows you off? What if he says that he only did it to draw more attention to you? He takes the small amount of anger he still has left and directs it at the doubt. The thoughts, thankfully, shut up.

Roman scratches the back of his head and says, “It’s kind of a long story…” He looks up at a clock on the wall, frowning. After a second, his face lights up. “You have A lunch, right?” Virgil nods. “I’ll tell you then. My class is switching so we don’t have to go to lunch right in the middle of our test.” 

“O-okay,” Virgil stutters out, still wondering if he’s going to regret this. He’s still unsure if Roman actually means well, or if it’s just a long ploy that will end in Virgil being hurt. But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask why he stood up for me. 

And the crooked smile Roman gives Virgil right before turning and jogging away to class makes the risk almost worth it.

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sander sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 38

The open cloudless sky above begins to lose its orange shade as the twilight sun starts to sink down past the horizon and welcomes the stars and lunar glow of the full moon; their heavenly light gleaming upon the golden spire that towers past the sea of clouds. Along the edges of the golden warp gate are the three search nods that the angels had faced trail after trail to retrieve were tucked firmly within all three of their proper holes; the eyes and wings that make up their outer rims glancing around and flapping as they twirl in place. In the middle of the rings was a platform of glass sat in the middle of the golden top floor; Tore wondrously gazing to the rings as his cosmic mentor works on a holographic interface that protrudes out from the glass beneath their feet. When a distinct light shines down above them, the indigo angel aim’s his gaze skyward to behold the massive halo that hovers above the tower; the ring that hangs over them beginning to spin with a growing heavenly glow. The rings angelic glow slowly, but surely growing, Mall put away the holographic panel had been tinkering with and peers up to the halo above to state: “Good, the coordinates are finally set and the warp gate is pinpointing to my kind’s dimensional prison. It only be a matter of time now.” A warm smile permeates along his cheeks as he stares upwards, break his site away from the halo above and down to his blue ward before him; Tore gazing back to his cosmic mentor as Mall commends how: “I don’t think there is any way I can express my gratitude to you for aiding me in this long awaited noble endeavor. At long last, after millions of millennia, the Kybr shall return home. At long last, they shall be reunited with their own kin; and we have you to thank for it all, Tore. ... For the longest time, I only had the stars surrounding to call upon for comfort in my times of depression and isolation; to mend my sorrows with their gaseous light. Not once did I think that I would soon feel the warming welcome of another Kybr, another he could call his own kin to glide through the universe with. For that alone, I’m more than happy to have taken this journey with you.” “No prob, Mall. Bein on this whole adventure with ya made me realize what I’d been missing from my life; somebody I could really look up to help just guide me through all the stuff about life. Like a….you get what I’m saying?” “Hmm mm mm. Tore, I simply cannot wait to introduce you to the very people that you have stemmed from and behold in their majesty; to glide throughout the universe alongside our fellow kin. There’s just so much more of this reality I wish for you to view.” the cosmic angel describes, kneeling down to the blue boy’s level. “Honestly, it don’t matter to me a bit where ya wanna go; I just still wanna have ya around. There was seriously so much you taught me about myself that I didn’t even know I could do; stuff that I probably never would’ve realized my self if I didn’t go with ya. Really, if anyone’s to thank here, it’s you.” “Oh believe me, youngling; there’s still so much of yourself I can show you, so much of yourself that will surpass your human expectations. It’s my hope to one day cultivate you into a Kybr just as powerful as those in the days of yore; perhaps to even pass them. Before the cosmic Kybr could speak another word to his blue ward, the indigo angel reaches out for a warming embrace; Mall hugging the boy back in kind as Tore’s tear drip down from his face and stain his sparkling toga. “I can’t to show you all my friends and family. You’re gonna love em.”

Upon declaring this to his spacial teacher does a related thought pop into the blue boy’s mind, one that causes him to pull away from Mall’s grasp and stress how: “My fam! Oh god, its been around two weeks since I last talked to them! They must be worried outta their minds wondering where I’ve been this whole time. I know you said that using my phone might attract attention, but is it alright if I phone them up real quick and tell em I’m alright?” “Go ahead, Tore. Tell them...tell them of the wonderful news.” “Thanks Mall.” the indigo angel yips to his cosmic mentor as he strolls over towards the wayside and pulls his phone out from the depths of his pants pocket. After powering on his device, a wave of astonishment crashes upon him when first finding over dozens of notifications concerning calls that he had missed. Whoa! Holy crap! There’s seriously like 54 missed calls on here. Most of them from Mally too. Guess outta everyone, she’d be nearly on the cusp of exploding with worry. Better not keep her waiting any longer.

Without hesitation, the blue boy taps the last phone call his sister had attempted to reach through to him with; Tore putting his phone up to his ear as it starts to dial and waits as he hears the tone ring. Shortly after does he then hear the orange skater on the other end, yelping out to him: “Tore!?” “Hey, Mal. Sorry I didn’t really phone in for a while, had to turn my phone off cause I was helping-” “Oh my god, where are you!? What’s that guy you’re with doing!? Do you know what he’s about to do!?” “Whoa, easy there, Mal. Slow down a minute, w-what’s up with you?” the blue boy questions. “Tore, I need you to listen to me and answer; do you know what the Kybr were?” “Uh, Mall said they were powerful beings that could manipulate elements of the universe who shared their powers with humans and built cities to help teach em how to use em.” “Is that all he told you?” “Kind of, why? You figure out something?”

Above the very spire both the angels stand within, the tangible picture begins to come into focus within the golden halo; the outer rim of the ring surging with an otherworldly power as it starts to further twirl more rapidly. Tears begin to well underneath Mall’s very eyes as he peers deep within the transparent picture held inside the halo. Soon. Soon we shall be reunited. No more will this soul have to wander this lonely cosmo’s for eternity. We’ll be together. We’ll be home.

Among his mentor gazing up to the portal above them both, the indigo angel ventures back towards stargazing Kybr; a deep somber frown painted along his face as the light from the halo overheads casts their shadow over the blue boy’s eyes. “Mall…” Upon hearing his wards slightly meek call, Mall breaks his teary eyes away from the forming portal above and hears the boy before him request that: “Can I ask you some stuff...before Kybr come?” “Of course, Tore What do wish to know?” “Were there really no limits to what the Kybr could control in this universe?” “Indeed, there were none. The very forces of this universe were at our beck and call.” “Is that why the gods banished all of you?” “Sadly so. They couldn’t accept the control we had on what they claimed to be their dominion. But why ask of this?” The blue boy standing before the cosmic angel takes a moment to calm his shaking breath before he questions further on the matter with: “Was that the only reason?” “Pardon?” “What did Kybr do to warrant getting imprisoned?” “Tore. Let us not worry about such mysteries, not with our reunion so close.” the spacial angel attempts to thwart with.

“Mall...were the Kybr bad?” Such a question piercing the air causes every single hair along the cosmic angel to stand on end, Mall attempting to veer away from answer by uttering: “Tore, lets just drop the-” “Did they hurt people?” The blue boy’s burning hunger for these answers drive the cosmic angel to a dreading silence; one that only fuels his ward to push further. “Mall...Mall, what did they do? How many others wanted them gone? Why were they so hated?” Despite Tore’s constant push for tangible answers, this only drives further silence from the starry angel standing before him; his mentor’s refusal to answer drawing out only frustration and tears as he continues to shout: “Mall...Please just answer me already! Why won’t you say anything!? Have you just been lying to me!?”

At last can the cosmic Kybr not keep himself silent another moment longer, Mall finally responding to his angered ward outcries with: “We chose humanity to carry on the legacy, to mold this very universe accordance to their whims and to plot its very future alongside us. Tore...All that Kybr had done was to shape reality for the better and share in what we’ve created with all; even if it meant steering those who lived in this universe in a different direction. I myself couldn’t care less for what they plot to form this reality into...I simply couldn’t bare it anymore. The countless millennia of isolation and utter hopelessness I had toiled hiding from those who wanted us gone. I felt my very consciousness dull from the ever going loneliness. The life that I had felt when gliding alongside my kin, the joy I had partaken upon seeing a child of my own flourish had been left dimmed and withered to the merciless flow of time. I had resigned to such a fate. But a single spark was what had illuminated the hopeless void that had clouded my mind. Word of humanity, sparse human’s, growing to possess power those were bestowed by us once more. And lo and behold, the life within me that had hollowed had been restored upon seeing with my own vision those claims ring true; the future of the kin we had left behind. And during my journey alongside you, my boy, that very same spirit began to grow again. Bringing forth a dream I thought once impossible to achieve now on the cusp of coming true.” Midst declaring all of this, the cosmic Kybr approaches the young angel that stands before him; Mall kneeling down to his level once more to gently grasp his shoulder and begs out of him: “Tore, please, let us share this long awaited dream together. Let us welcome our kin home.” A long pause of quiet passes between the two angel’s as Mall awaits for the boy’s answer; all with nothing but the energy of the warp gate whirling through the air to fill the ambient silence.

But at long last does Tore finally bestow upon the lonesome broken man his answer as his hand balling into a quaking fist; the blue boy driving his knuckles straight into the cosmic angel’s face hard enough to send Mall careening across the top of the spire; the golden wall he slams into fracturing from the incredible blunt force. As the spacial bound Kybr starts to recover from the unexpected blow, a low groan utters out from his maw; the angel directing his site to the very boy who had struck him down. “Agh!...Wh-what the matter with y-” “You lied to me! You knew very well what the Kybr would do if they were freed; you knew they would terrorize the universe again and kept that from me! I trusted you! I fought alongside you! I looked up to you more than just a teacher; I wanted you to be like a dad, one I could actually stand alongside with. I cried when you offered me that. If you really cared that much about me, if you looked up to me like I was one of your own; you wouldn’t have kept me in the dark about something crucial, something that would’ve affected everyone I knew, what could doom everyone in this universe. I could’ve helped you. My family could’ve helped you. I bet even my friends could’ve helped you cope with being so alone and sad in this universe. You didn’t need to unleash an entire army of super beings that would destroy so many others…You didn’t need the Kybr to feel loved. But instead you chose this. Chose to try and release them. And chose to lie to my face!” Witnessing a flow of tears streak down from the boy’s enraged glare, Mall attempts to push through to him by uttering: “Tore, I didn’t-” “Shut up!...If you actually care. If you actually wanna still look at me like someone you care for,, then you’ll shut off the portal and keep the Kybr from breaking into this world.” Let utterly silent by the indigo angel’s ultimatum, the cosmic angel finally stands and hovers off the golden floor; glaring to the boy with determination and firmly declares: “No...I shall not let my kin suffer within their prison another moment longer, not with just a few more steps from opening the gates.” Knowing the Kybr’s ultimate decision left set in unbreakable stone, Tore’s entire body trembles alongside his breath; struggling to stand from the overwhelming heartbreak. But the indigo angel soon regains his composure to wipe away the river of tears from his eyes; staring on to cosmic angel that hovers before with his own branded determination and readies to face his former mentor. “Fine...But I’m not just gonna stand and let you doom the universe...To doom countless others...to doom my friends, my family, everyone I love!”

Its upon proclaiming this that Tore finally lunges forth towards his former mentor, dead set to deliver yet another betrayed fuel strike right to his face; what tears hadn’t dried at this point streaking off his cheeks as he approaches the cosmic angel. Moments as the indigo angel throws his fist straight out to the Kybr’s face, Mall holds his palm before the nearing blue boy and stopping him dead in his tracks; Tore feeling as if he had just hit an invisible solid wall. Its in that very same time that same space thrust him away with what felt like the force of a runaway semi truck, the blue boy sliding across the spires golden floor; Tore clutching the edge of the tower before he could be sent flying straight out into the sea of clouds behind him. Pulling out over the golden edge, the angel throws himself straight into the air above with a pale light gathering in his hand; Tore casts forth a beam of pale power down towards his spacial foe. Just as the ray was about to hit, the very space surrounding Mall redirects the beam to twirl around his very figure and splits apart under his command; the cosmic angel sending back the fracture pieces of pale white back towards their very sender. The blue boy delves right underneath the returning ray cluster as he swoops down towards his former master, Mall erecting a wormhole behind him to retreat from the blue boy’s diving assault.

Once sliding to a stop across the golden floor, Tore frantically peers to his surroundings for any sign of where the space manipulating angel had vanished to; failing to find even a single sign of his starry feathers anywhere in site. Midst wondering where the angel had disappeared to, Tore suddenly feels an invisible force squeeze his entire body from head to toe; almost as if the very space surrounding him was constricting the boy like a snake holding its prey. Slowly forcing his head to turn back, Tore discovers the cosmic angel emerging out from another hole with his clutched palm reaching out to the boy. With nothing but a swift swipe of his very hand, Mall commands the very space holding his pupil to fling him straight into one of the flora decorated golden walls that make up the top of the spire; some of the angel trumpets that hang from the swirls plucking off their stems and fluttering down onto the boy. Peering down does the blue boy see one of these flowers land cleanly onto the palm of his hand, a site which causes the gears in his head to start turning.

As he continues to face the young angel, Mall lets out a collection of stars from his very palm as he waves his hand through the air; every single twinkling star that the cosmic angel had conjured all thrusting themselves out to the blue boy all at once. Upon witnessing the stars incoming does Tore push himself off the wall of withered flowers and out towards the volley of glittering constellations Tore blocking them all with a single arm as he forces himself through shower of stars Powering through the barrage of twinkling bullets does Tore face the spacial Kybr once more; his fist glowing a rainbow of lively colors as he lobs it upwards towards the angel’s chin. Though Mall erects another wall of space between him and his blue ward like before, the solid space breaks apart upon the boy’s rising assault and is harshly struck right in the jaw hard enough send him skywards. Having uppercut his former mentor straight into the air, Tore rockets up after him to follow up with a hammering spike back down towards the spire floor; the glass platform Mall crashes into shattering from the impact.

While the blue angel hover back down onto the golden floor, he watches as his cosmic foe levitates right off the broken glass he bestows an applause; remarking how: “Using the life force of these flowers to power through. Excellent resourcefulness Tore. Seems I’ve trained you to use your abilities quite well. Bravo.” Despite his proud applause upon him, Tore keeps his glare locked upon the spacial angel; Mall himself ceasing his clapping to warm how: “However, if you believe that is enough to stop me. Then you are sorely mistaken.” On this very declaration does Mall then reach out to their surroundings and offers to how his own prowess with: “Allow me to show you what sort of influence the Kybr have upon this universe.” From the palms of his hands does the cosmic angel unleash an incredible bout of spacial power from his very depths; a monumental wave that bends and twists the golden spire they stand upon and until beginning to change into another location entirely.

Before the blue boy’s very eyes does he witness the golden walls of the spire transform, ditching the shimmering sheen of their swirls in place of rows and rows of faintly painted metal lockers. Peering down beneath his feet, Tore sees the glistening floor he stands upon loose its sheen as it’s morphed into slightly dirt ridden marble tile. Drifting his gaze skywards does Tore also watch as the starry night sky above is blanketed by popcorn ceiling donning flickering florescent lights. Between the lockers stood door after polished wood door, some of the cracking open to let some teens within peer out to the scene that plays out. “The Hell?” “What’s happening out there?” “Who the hell are these guys?” “Hang on. Isn’t one of them that strange blue dude with the angel wings?” Upon some of the students recognizing him does Tore himself realize where his former mentor had transported them too; this very hall being the very same hallway he walks through everyday in Townsville’s public school. “So this is my...Why did-” Right when the blue boy was about to question the cosmic angel why he had sent them here, the indigo angel puts his question on hold as he sees his former master continue to wave his hands through the air. All the kids that had peeked out from their classrooms are forced back inside before the hall that both angels stands begins to extend outwards; the end of the hall retreating into the horizon until vanishing into an infinite plane. Once commanding the space of the hall to extend endlessly, the spacial Kybr leaps back to retreat down the depths of the never ending corridor; Tore immediately pursuing after the retreating angel.

Amidst gliding away from the indigo angel, Mall turns back while continuing to retreat to unleash a salvo of stars that erupt out from the depths of his wings; Tore swatting away all the stars that streak out to him in his chase after Witnessing his spread of stars doing little to slow his blue wards feverish pursuit, Mall reaches his arms out towards the never ending rows of lockers that stretching out along the sides of the hall; their very metal stretching past their hinges and clustering together just before the boy. Left caught off guard by the unexpected blockade, the indigo angel slams straight through the barrier of cheap school grade steel and fumbles along the marble tile; but soon enough regaining himself and leaping off the floor in the middle of this blunder to resume the chase. As more and more of the lockers before him stretch out in an effort to block his way, Tore flies right over, under, and side to side every set that burst out from the walls; some dust flying out from the walls as the lockers protrude out. Upon watching the blue ward weave himself through every single set of lockers he stretches out, the cosmic angel clamps his hands together to command the lockers before him to all clamp together to form a wall of steel. A single lunging tackle is all it takes from the blue boy to bust straight through he blockade of cheap school grade steel; a couple of cobwebs flying through the air as Tore charges ahead.

Yet despite having broke straight through his former mentor’s barricade, the distance between the pair of angels continues to grow; Tore pondering of a way he can burst through the numerous lockers and close the gap. Not really any plants here to sap, though. Gotta be something here to take advantage off. Its in think of a way to draw out power that he feels something tickling his arms, the indigo angel glancing along his limbs to discover a couples of spiders and bugs scuttling along the surface of his skin. Bugs? Didn’t someone say that the school needed some sort of fumigation? Wait a sec, that’s it!

With an idea running through his blue noggin, Tore stretches both of his arms out to the endless row of lockers that sit along the side; his mind focused on all the numerous insects and arachnids that dwell within the cracks and crevices of the school walls. Come on… he concentrates on the dozens of vermin and insects that do swaths of color all seep out from their bodies, their very life gathering around the blue boy and surrounding him in coating of lively aura. Got it! “Excellent work Tore.” In hearing this come from his former mentor, Tore stares back to the gradually retreating angel; Mall further praising him on how: “Drawing out your aspect from the creatures hidden around you. But can you use such gathered power effectively?”

Its in that moment that every single locker that stands between them burst out from the wall and cluster together before the young angel in hopes of halting his pursuit; all the colorful life that the blue boy had gathered all coating his fists as he nears all the thicket of metal. With his very fists alone does Tore break through the rows of stretched steel as easily as ripping through paper; shards of the lockers metal scattering through the air as the boy breaks through every single wall that stands in his way. Seeing his pupil punch straight through the numerous barricades, Mall thrusts his palms out to the hall’s very walls and starts to pull them together; the cosmic angel warping the space itself into one blockade of solid stone and metal. With little time to stop himself from smacking straight into the twisted cluster of school brick and locker metal, Tore utilizes what energy he had gathered from his surroundings straight into the palm of his hands into a colorful orb of light; firing it all out in to the blockade in a stream of pure life. Effortlessly does the massive beam pierce straight through the thick rock and steel and striking the cosmic angel harboring behind; Mall letting out a pained grunt as his entire body is engulfed in the colorful glow.

Right then and there does the infinite hallway come to an end as Mall is sent careening straight through a set of door; the polished wood floor breaking underneath as he scrapes across the gym. From this crashing halt does every basketball player and P.E teacher suddenly stop dead in their track and gaze upon the spacial angel as he levitates himself off the middle of them floor. Following this do they then witness the blue boy break down the gym doors and land before the levitating man; a site which proves a good enough queue to go scrambling out for they realize that shit was going down. Once seeing every single coach and student all race right out through the corridor, Tore returns his site back to his former mentor; remain cautious despite Mall displaying a warm smile. “I must say, Tore. You’ve shown truly promising results thus far. But this examination is far from over.”

Upon this statement does Mall thrust his arms upwards towards the gym ceiling, the blue boy peering above and watches the support beams holding the roof up darken and morph from steel to stone. His attention is then drawn out to the walls, bleachers, and equipment that make up the gym all go through a similar transformation; some of the rock bursting into flames in the process. Its in witnessing all of this that he notices a bright orange light shinning out from the floor and peers down to discover the polished wood he stands on melting into hot molten liquid. Tore leaps right off the transforming floor as it fully forms into a lake of boiling lava and comes to find what he saw were airborne demons and drifting spirits sharing the blistering hot air. Soon enough is the site that Tore once saw as his school gym fully converted into the very depth of hell; both angel’s hovering just above a stretching lake of lava with a couple of brimstone islands decorated across the surface, all with little scales hopping out from the fiery molten depths.

Just as the indigo angel was curious why his former mentor had transformed their surroundings into this hellish lake of molten liquid, he returns his gaze to the cosmic Kybr to find Mall slowly bending his arms upwards; the lava lake they hang right over curving inwards alongside his limbs until covering the hellish skies above in a blanket of blistering hot magma. The lake that Mall had summoned forth had now been bent inward in an inverted sphere that now trapped them both in its twisted cage of molten goo and scorched brimstone; the lava within remaining suspended in the air as if the gravity itself had been twisted.

Once finished with their scorching hot cage, the cosmic angel then thrusts his palms down towards the very brimstone upsetting the lava; the piece of burning rock trembling for a moment before being uprooted from the molten goo. Raising the piece of scorching earth out from the depths of the magma lake, Mall clasps his hands together to command the rock to burst into pieces; the numerous remains of this very brimstone scatter through the air and chaotically revolve all around within the angel’s molten cage. One after the other does Tore swerve and evade all the directionless chunks of burning brimstone, navigating through the ongoing chaos as naturally as the winds traveling through a craggy canyon; the blue boy twisting about the storm of rock as he heads straight for his former mentor. Tore readies to deliver a swift spinning punch right to the spacial Kybr’s side as he closes in, the space around his former master twisting his body as he is fluidly veered right out across the angel’s side like a redirected stream of water. His assault having been thwarted, the indigo angel is but seconds away from taking a molten dive right down into the spherical wall of blistering hot goo; the blue boy stopping himself just short of the lake’s surface and makes a complete U-turn back towards the cosmic angel.

Witnessing his blue ward on the return, Mall commands the space around him to halt what burning brimstone happens to pass by and launches them all out towards the approaching indigo angel. With the barrage of fiery rocks raining down upon him, the blue boy thinks little as he simply breaks one of them to bits with just one kick; left caught off guard when bits of molten lava trapped within splatter out. Tore covers his face as the fiery hot goo splatters onto him, the blue angel continuing to swerve through the brimstone storm despite feeling the burns inflicted by the red hot lava across his body. Uncovering his face does the blue boy then see his former mentor simply direct more and more passing stones his way, the indigo angel taking little chances as he simply fires out sphere of his own power out to the approaching pieces of brimstone; with not even a single drop of the magma stowed within splashing into him. But when does his former mentor simply summon more and more burning chunks out after him, the blue boy hatches a little idea on how to use the hellish meteors against their caster and veers off along the lava prisons edges; all the pieces of burning brimstone giving chase after him as Mall himself watches closely. Soon does the cosmic angel witness the blue ward veer away from the lava side and start to near once more, Mall preparing to counter whatever sort of assault his pupil was planning. Yet at the very last moment does Tore suddenly ascend right over, his former mentor keeping his sites locked to him as the swarm of burning brimstone continues to follow. Once right hovering overhead, the blue boy quickly turns back and blasts out his own volley of pale power upon the pursing storm of hellbound rock; the magma that bursts out from within all splattering down toward his spacial foe. The lava threatening to rain down upon him, Mall keeps the descending drizzle from pouring onto him with a layer of solid space above; not a single drop able to even touch the starry angel’s very skin. Left distracted by the molten downpour, Tore takes this chance to steer right behind and rocket right towards his backside at breakneck speeds ready to strike with all his might.

Alas on the last moment does his swinging fist suddenly stop dead in the middle of the air, his knuckles just centimeters away from touching the cosmic angel’s back. Left paralyzed by the very space around him, all Tore could do was watch as his former mentor peers back into his very eyes; the last of the lava downpour dripping down behind him. “A valiant effort.” With this bit of praise however does Mall lift the blue ward up over his head while then criticizing how: “But physicality alone shall do little to aid you.” Upon declaring this, the cosmic angel thrust his palm downwards and sends Tore hurdling down towards one of the brimstone islands breaking up the lava lake; the blue crashing down and slide across the rough rock before stopping just short of the blistering hot rim. Though the blue boy attempts to stand back off the heated stone, his rise is ultimately cut short when his former master lands right onto his very chest and keeps him pinned to the hellish earth with just a single foot.

Struggling to escape underneath the spacial Kybr’s heel, the indigo angel gazes up to the lava behind him in his squirm and discovers something of note that he just now finds. Small schools of fish dressed in scales of pure bedrock leap right out from the depths of the lake, lively swimming through the lava as easily as freshwater. This only way outta this mess clear to him, the boy’s face tightens as he reaches out towards the rim; a sharp hiss sliding through the boy’s teeth before he swiftly dunks his limbs into the hellish molten goo. A sharp scream escapes from the boy maw as he keeps his arms submerged in the fiery lava, the odd and unpredictable act causing the cosmic angel’s guard to waver. Midst his agony do the pupils of his eyes start to glow a rainbow of color, Tore taking the moment to thrust his legs against Mall and kicking his former mentor off of him; bringing his arms back up to the surface as lunges after. His hands coated in a radiance of shimmering color, Tore reaches out to his fumbling foe’s head and clutches Mall’s very face; the indigo angel unleashing the life force he had somehow gathered into a point blank blast of radiant colors. The force alone was strong enough to send the spacial Kybr hurdling across lake, his body skipping across the surface like a tossed pebble until crashing right along side of a brimstone column.

While the hellish stone dust settles before him, Mall is left to ponder of the circumstances with utter: “That power. Where did-” While curiously questioning such does the angel direct his attention over to the very island he was blasted from, seeing the numerous scaly fish that had once jumped across the molten lava behind his ward now left bellying up; a proud smile stretches between his cheeks as pries himself out from the brimstone. “That’s much better.”

Whilst using what power was left to heal the numerous burns he had suffered, Tore watches as the man he once called his mentor hovers out to the very center of the lava cage and clasps his hands together; the space they both occupy once again contorting before his very eyes. The blue boy beholds the blister hot lava and brimstone that made up the environment now solidify and freeze as it starts to break apart; scorching heat of hell itself dipping into a deathly cold in a matter of just seconds. Tore starts to shiver and hovers upwards as the ground beneath him gives away, all the fiery light that shined from the lava disappearing and is replaced and coldly blue hue; the blue seeing his very breath permeate the frosty air. Within a matter of seconds does the indigo angel find himself floating within a frozen cavernous valley made up of thick icy paths, frosty slides, and arctic formations that stretch across the wide open cavern. Not this again.

Its in his shivering that Tore then peer out to the side and finds his cosmic foe floating in the middle of the freezing air, the spacial angel clasping his hands together before hammering himself straight in his very stomach; the impact causing dozens of cracks to rapidly grow along his figure. After this does Mall’s entire body break apart in a burst of glass, every single bit flying across the caverns and seeping into the icy formations that surround them. Despite this display of self destruction, the blue boy keeps his guard held high as he floats through the icy valley and prepares for whatever strange attack the cosmic Kybr has planned for him. Yet among his alert awareness does he fails to notice a faint light glimmering from the ice behind him; a reflection of his galactic foe’s figure sliding across the surface and sticks his arm right out to cast a star straight out to the blue ward. The starry blast hits the young angel’s back in a glittering explosion, sending Tore careening through frosty air. When finally stopping himself just before crashing straight into a hard icy wall, Tore peeks back to try and find what had thrown the glittering blast, but ultimately failing to find a single soul among the blue hue.

Its when seeking the culprit that he hears the strange sound of crackling ice behind him, the blue angel swiftly glancing back to discover his mentor within an icy slide behind him; Mall on the verge of tossing out another starry assault. In the nick of time does the blue boy evade his former mentor’s starry blast and chucks out his own pale energy straight out to Mall’s reflection; the icy formation he had dwell within shattering into glittering shards from the explosion. Even within the ice left into pieces, the young angel cannot find even a single sign of his former mentor among the frosty dust. While midst his confusion, Mall emerges out from the twisting icy pillar aside and rockets forth towards the blue boy; Tore himself glancing out just time to witness his former mentor on the approach. In the few seconds he had does the blue angel manage to evade the cosmic Kybr’s striking assault, his galactic foe just a few inches apart as he streaks right past. Even when having cleanly dodged the cosmic man’s surprise attack, the blue boy feels the very space behind him solidify; Tore looking over towards his former master and seeing him reach out to him with but the palm of his hand. Swinging his arm outwards does Mall cast his ward out through the icy cavern valley; Tore sent through icy paths and slides alike until crashing right into the valley’s hard ice wall.

Pulling himself straight out from the cavernous wall, the blue angel shakes off the ice stuck in his hair; his eyes widening when gazing ahead and finding the cosmic Kybr’s very image plastered across the icy formations making up the valley. He frantically looks through out all the ice paths, pillars, and slides in hopes of telling which of the many images of his former mentor be the right one as the slide across the surface like a pack of serpents; yet every single one he see’s prove completely identical to the rest. This isn’t good. Even if he comes out, there’s no way to physically touch him, not without something alive to draw power from. But what in the world could even survive in a place this blistering cold? Okay Tore, just think for a sec here. Think back to science class. The teach was going on about biology, right? Something about bacteria and micro organisms. She said that they were nearly in everything around us, even in like super extreme places like hot caves, hot springs, the depths of the ocean, even in Antartic- Its in pondering of his school teachers words that he snaps his sites over to the icy path that stretches beside him. Ice! That’s it! Upon this very revelation, the indigo angel glides down along the narrow icy path and slides the palm of his hand along its chilling cold surface; his mind focused on what microorganisms and bacteria could be dwelling underneath the frost. Its in his trip across the frosty narrow that bits of color start to slither through the solid ice and gather in the palm of his hands. When beholding all the life he had gathered from the microorganisms living within the ice, he’s left a little disappointed to find the size of a marble, one not even bigger than the palm of his hand. Huh. Guess this much is about what you’d expect from bacteria.

Venturing his site back towards the rest of the cavernous valley, the blue boy comes to find dozens upon dozens of his former master very image streak across every icy surface; each reflection moving of its own independence. Ain’t got much to work with here. Better make it count. Whilst keeping his eyes on the numerous pictures of the cosmic angel does he see them all suddenly disappear all at once; not a single trace of Mall left showing anywhere among the ice. Where...where did- In his frantic search for where the spacial Kybr could strike does he take a peek back just in time to see the cosmic angel charging out; mere moments away from ramming into him. With what life force he had gathered from the bacteria within the ice, the indigo angel coats the base of his foot its its colorful glow as he kicks out to his nearing foe; Tore kicking Mall straight into the roof of the icy cave. The very moment that the galactic angel crashes through the ceiling does the blue boy witness the icy valley he floats in crumbling like broken glass; all of their shards descending down into the deep black abyss set below.

In gliding through the void does the blue angel soon unintentionally flops down into solid ground; Tore prying himself out from the solid rock and discovers veins of bright lime green running across the rugged curving surface. Veering his sites upward does he find himself standing dead in the center of a wide crater that rival the size of several football fields. Along the surface of the crater do his pupils shrink when finding what were remains of colorful brick among the ruins; their once vibrant color having faded away from the anneals of time. This very site bubbles a powerful mix of dread and despair what was once buried within his very core; a feeling of sorrow that not only makes his very soul tremble, but makes him fall to his very knee’s. This place…

Before the boy could partake in a single moment of lament, his gaze is drawn upwards as an angelic shadow slides past his body; Tore gazing skywards to the very top of a long and towering flagpole where a torn banner holding what seemed was once a platypus. The blue boy see’s Mall perch himself at the very top end of this decrepit and ruined symbol; the galactic angel gazing down upon his wards as Tore slowly starts to rise back on his feet. “Magnificent show Tore. You’ve truly demonstrated greater promise that even the humans we had cultivated in the days of old. But this demonstration is not over yet. For now we reach the finale.” Declaring such does Mall suddenly rocket up high in the night sky, his cosmic trail overtaking the earthly stars. When hovering in the middle of the starry sky, the Kybr’s cosmic wings starts to vastly expand out; Mall blanketing the once peaceful starry sky above and transform them into the deep cosmos that reflects within his angelic wings. Swirling galaxies, leviathan sized planets, bright scorching suns, burning meteors, and billions upon billions of stars. Some of these stars gather onto the galactic angel’s back and bond together to give the angel a new starry set of wings as he descends down upon the glowing green earth; opening his eyes to face the blue angel that takes his stand against him with a determined and ready glare.

In just but a single instance does the entire length of Mall’s very figures stretch right out before the blue boy, the back of his body following after and catching right up as the cosmic angel stands before his pupil. Left caught off guard by his former mentor’s strange lunge out to him, all Tore could do to react was to leap back as he tosses out a ball of pale white out to the spacial Kybr; the retreating assault proving utterly fruitless as Tore’s blast scatters into pieces before even touching his foe. Witnessing his blue ward attempting to gain some distance, the cosmic angel reaches his arms up towards the cosmos that hangs above them both; some of the galaxies above drawn out from the reaches of space and shrinking as they near the planets surface. Though their immense size had been reduced significantly, these swirling galaxies still boasted the size of apartment complexes; the angel who had summoned them having next to no trouble hurdling them both out to his blue pupil.

Beholding these massive disk shaped celestial bodies swiftly glides right out at him, Tore up and decides to lunge out to them as they twirl his way; the light from their numerous stars glistening along his body as he squeezes right between them both. Finding his cast out celestial bodies having missed, the spacial angel thrusts his fingers out to both of the hurdling galaxies and commands them both to veer back towards the blue boy; Tore himself noticing the light from these galaxies and peering out to discover them both hurdling out to both of his side. With the pair of twin galaxies pinching out towards him, the blue angel stops dead in his track moments as they near and lets them both pass in front; their starry surfaces shining their glisten along the boy’s face as they pass through. Keeping his sites locked to the twin celestial bodies does he see them both steer themselves back out for another go at him; Tore seeing his moment when finding one of them approaching faster than the other. Just seconds before the edge of one of these celestial bodies could strike the indigo angel down, Tore clasps its very rim with nothing but his bare hands; the stars scraping against his palm as the impact drags him across the irradiated crater. Glancing past the galaxy trapped in his hands, the blue boy witnesses the other follow after the first, something that he had fully expected as he starts to lift the one he holds upwards and tosses it back to its twin; both of these galaxies colliding together and exploding in a shower of glowing stardust that lights the entire crater and the land behind.

Once the bright aftermath of the collision finally dims, Tore uncovers his eyes and glances around for any sign of his galactic foe; finding next to no sign of the spacial angel anywhere among the crater rubble. Its in that moment that he see’s the very sky itself start to glisten and aims his eye site above to find his former master hovering above; the fields of stars behind him rapidly twinkling as he points a single finger down upon the earth. From the cosmic skies above do all these thousands of stars all descend down from the very heavens akin to divine beams of light; every single one streaking down towards the blue boy in rapid fashion. The indigo angel glides across the green glowing crater as these numerous galactic rays crash down upon the earth in their attempt to strike him down; each descending star crashing down onto the earth he flies behind. Gazing back does Tore begin to see all the twinkling stars descending closer and closer as they all plummet from the skies above; some of them crashing down right behind his very feet. Aiming his sights towards his former mentor above, the blue boy watches the cosmic angel above and notices all the stars that rain down from the heavens streak right by him, as if commanding every one he summons from the depths of space to steer away from him. Doesn’t seem like he’s paying that much attention to them though. Wonder if…

Noticing this detail from his former mentor, the indigo angel peeks back and lobs out a bit of his own pale power out in a dynamic curveball; the sphere of white streaking along the surface of the crater as he ascends skywards across the cosmic sky above. Soon in its short journey through the sky does it blend in alongside the stream of descending stars and start to streak down towards the cosmic angel’s backside. Moments before the blue boy’s ball can strike the spacial angel down, Mall swiftly does a complete 180 to waft his pupils attempt of a sneak attack aside; the stars that streak past casting their light upon his disappointed glare. But in that very moment does the cosmic Kybr then feel something strike his very back, a second ball of pale light having exploded against Mall’s behind while his back was turned. All the stars from the cosmos above finally cease their torrential downpour as the angel who had commanded them himself plummets down towards the lime green crater in a smoking descent; the blue boy rocket right out towards his former master as he falls towards the earth.

Mere seconds before Tore could follow up his successful assault does his spacial foe suddenly stop in the air just before crashing into the glowing earth; Mall reaching his palm out to the approaching blue angel and halting him dead in his tracks. Before the indigo angel could even fight back against the space holding him in place, the cosmic angel casts him out from the earth and sends him skywards out to the cosmos above. Shortly after being flung skywards does Tore manage to regain his aerial balance, the blue boy peering back from whence he came to discover the scorching surface of the sun having replace the very earth he had been tossed from; its sheer light nearly blinding the boy as he hovers several feet above its blistering hot surface. Gazing away from the giant star’s fiery bright surface, the blue boy discovers the very angel that had sent him up now hovering above; the cosmic Kybr starring straight down upon his very ward despite the blinding sunlight behind him.

With nothing but a wave of the angel’s very hand does Mall push the blue boy out towards the blistering star set behind him; the gravity of the sun strengthening its pull towards what hovered around it and starts to drag the indigo angel towards its blazing hot surface. And though Tore fights back against the sun’s overwhelming gravitational pull, the incredible spacial force continues to drag him tick by tick towards his fiery doom. Among resisting this near dominant spacial force does the indigo angel see numerous flares spurt out from behind, Tore peering back to discover pillars of flame erupt out from the fiery surface and streak out towards him. While evading all the solar flares that burst from behind, all the blistering spurts send out a strong solar wind that starts to push the blue boy away; enduring the overwhelming sunny heat that bellows behind and glides him away from the surface. Watching his blue pupil begin to escape from the fiery star’s gravitational force, Mall reaches out towards the depths of the cosmo’s set behind them; the angel calling forth a shower of asteroids that all rain down towards the surface of the sun. Slithering around both the comet torrent from above and the pillars of flame that spurt out from below, Tore once again starts to be pulled towards the fiery sun; the gears in the blue boy’s head turning as he attempt to think of a way outta this mess. Midst pondering of such do his eyes manages to catch the site of one of the meteors that had been cast down towards the sun caught within a pillar of fire that spurts out from the surface; the intense force of the bursting combustion strong enough to send the asteroid flying back out to the depths of space. There it is. The ticket outta this mess.

Continuing to weave around the dozens of rising flames and falling boulders all around him, Tore keeps watch of all the rocks that plummet down towards the star set behind him; most of them disintegrates from the incredible heat as they reach the top of the simmering surface of the sun. What are ya trying to be polite now? Come on, just let one loose already! Watching among all the meteors that descend down towards the face of the sun that he see one of them plummet down towards a spot of the surface on the verge of bursting; the indigo angel chasing down the very asteroid as it plummets. Hovering from above does the spacial angel watch all this play out before him, Mall left perplexed as his blue pupil simply stands atop one of the falling comets that fall towards the gigantic star; both Tore and the rock swallowed by the sun’s intense light.

Meager moments just before the rock that the blue angel stands upon could touch down onto the fiery surface, an incredibly powerful solar flare bursts out from its very surface and erupts onto the bottom of the asteroid; the insane force of the rising flames shooting the rock and the boy who stands upon it out from the sun’s pull and through the torrent of comets. When seeing his indigo opponent rocket right out towards him, Mall redirects the path of a pair of asteroids that plummet beside him straight out to the rock his pupil rides; the spacial angel watching as the three comets collide into each other in a violent explosion of rock dust that blankets the light of the sun. Out from the asteroid dust does a lone hand emerge out from its very depths clutches tightly onto the cosmic Kybr’s very neck; the rest of the cloud scattering to reveal the very hand to belong to his unscathed blue ward. Having caught the cosmic angel in his clutches, the blue boy turns back towards the leviathan star that burns underneath them both and hurls his former mentor down towards its fiery hot surface; Tore watching as Mall hurdles towards the bright sun like a descending meteor. The bright sunlight from the star grows brighter as the cosmic angel falls closer to its very surface, the sun soon enveloping the very space they occupy within its solar warmth.

This incredibly blinding light eventually dims to show the blue boy fluttering back down within the glowing green ruins; Tore left peering along the sides of the crater for any sign of where his former mentor is. During this little look through these very ruins does the indigo angel notice a deep shadow beginning to loom over the irradiated earth, peering up to see what could cast such blanketing darkness; Tore’s left in astonishing horror when discovering what hangs above. Several thousand feet above earthly surface does he find Mall peering down upon him, a lone planet of which outclasses the very Earth itself dropping down from the depths of the cosmos behind him; its sheer size rivaling that of Neptune. The very angel that had summoned the descending planet disintegrates into stardust as its face passes through him, only leaving the earth itself right in the midst of its destructive path. Tore falls to the Earth as he watches the leviathan planet plummet; his knee’s trembling as he lands in the middle of the crater. Wha-what can I even...No...I won’t let it end like this! There’s gotta be something here, something to work with. But this crater, its all lifeless. Everything’s dead. Where on Earth can there be anything alive left around...Oh my god. That’s it!

Its in figuring out an incredible realization that the indigo angel thrusts his legs deep into the tainted soil; the blue boy punching his arms straight into the rock as the planet above grows ever closer. Just please work with me. There’s not much time left. The boys pleading thoughts pierce the craters irradiated soil and echo throughout the Earth, reaching the very essence of every living thing that dwells within and upon the planet. Bits of life from every person, every plant, every creature, every living organism starts to seep through the ground they stand or hover over; none of them even realizing the minuscule pieces of their lives were escaping from their beings. Even the energy of the planet’s core itself travels out from beneath the earth to reach out to the blue boy; every bit of life that burrowing through the earth at blinding speeds. The very sky and ground that make up the planet is glown alight as all the pieces of life gather towards the very point they had been called upon; all to gather within Tore’s very body. The crater that the boy has rooted itself in starts to let out a powerful glow as more and more power gathers within minutes.

Soon enough is the entire once dead crater proves ready to burst forth with all the life that had gather throughout the entire planet; the deathly lime green that had cursed the earth merging alongside all the color that had been collected. All at once does the collection of life spurt from the Earth in a ray of colorful light, the blue boy that had called upon it all leading it straight through the sky and to the oncoming planet above. Midst passing through the Earth’s atmosphere does color coated angel begin to feel the intense friction blister his very skin, the blue boy hissing in pain as he endures spacial entry. Can’t heal...Gotta put everything into this… His burning flight straight from his home takes him speeding towards the planet that plummets above; the indigo angel soon entering the stratosphere of the leviathan. In an instant does Tore pierces straight through the giant planets surface and continue through its rock like a bullet; tearing straight through towards its very core.

Hovering over all of this, the cosmic angel watches in awe as the colossal planet he had summoned forth, breaking apart as multiple colors fracture across its surface and exploding a burst of bright color. Peering past this glowing spurt does Mall discover a lone figure erupting out from the light at astounding speeds; Tore approaching from the planets remains with little lively color left streaking along his body. What powerful life he had left to spare, Tore cocks his arm back as far as possible while coating his very fist in the lively glow he nears his former mentor; ready to put everything he had gathered from the Earth into a single attack. The indigo angel eventually reaches his former superior and thrust what life he had left straight into his foe’s very stomach; both angels enveloped in a brilliant colorful glow stemming out from the point of impact.

Eventually does every piece of the lively glow fade away as the cosmo’s erected disappears; Tore left slowly hovering downwards as the space surrounding him is restored back into the very top of the golden spire where the feud had begun. Heavy breath pass out from his lips as he touches down onto the broken glass beneath his feet, the blue angel using what strength he had left spare to keep from collapsing onto the shards. Keeping stable enough, the boy gazes skywards up to the halo above and discover the picture of another dimension held within that’s halfway transparent. Still not too late...Just...Just need to…

Among this brief moment of respite and all the needed relief that it had given to the indigo angel is sudden shattered in but an instant when he starts to hear clapping; Tore’s pupils shrinking when peering back out to the side and discovering his former mentor alive and well, wearing a smile as he gives the boy an applause. “A magnificent performance, Tore. You’ve proven the potential to wield your aspect as as effectively as those in the days of old. Even with how much I had restrained myself, you’ve surpassed every single one of my expectation; I really couldn’t be more proud of you. You’re on your way of becoming a fully fledged Kybr.” “You’re...kidding...All that….was holding back to you!?” the indigo angel questions as he trembles. “Oh ho. Unfortunately so.” Mall confirms, commanding the space around his pupil to make him fall to his knee’s.

“Why then.. Why did you put me through all that? Why didn’t you just get it over with and finish me?” the blue boy demands to know, the angel he questions floating towards him. “I don’t want our bond to end in nothing but bitter blood; I meant it when claiming how you brought life back into my very existence, giving me the motivation and desire to continue. I am truly regretful to have kept the truth from you during their time together, afraid that it would drive you away. I couldn’t bare to be alone anymore, not in a universe that had cast our kind away. I truly did treasure the experiences I had shared with you Tore; I don’t wish for it to end like this.” In his struggle to arise from the shards of broken glass does the indigo angel peer up from the ground to witness a hand be extended down to him; Mall offering a welcoming arm as he pleads to the boy: “Please, Tore. I beg of you. Cease this hopeless struggle so that we may welcome the Kybr, our kin back to their long lost home.”

Nothing but the ambient winds are all that are heard for a couple moment before Tore finally starts to reach his hand out to the cosmic angel; Mall’s hopes beginning to rise as the boy’s as the boy’s hand nears. When just an inch away from him, Tore smacks his former mentor’s palm aside, at last responding back. “You don’t know how much I wanted something like this so badly. To have someone I could look up to in my times of need when I felt like every bit of hope was lost; somebody my dad wasn’t. I was starting to think at long last that wish was coming true. But all that wishing just led me straight to this! I can’t go down his road, Mall. There may be people you loved then trapped in there, but there are people now who love me here. If the Kybr are freed, there’s no guarantee the world I’ve come to know and love will live...If everyone in this universe will live. The existence both of us want...they can’t both be true.”

Despite the blue boy’s word of rejection leaving cosmic angel heartbroken, despite the stream of tears that flow from his eyes: he claims to him how: “I understand…” Mall aims his palm right above his blue wards head as glittering stardust starts to gather within his hand; the collecting cosmic power glistening against the boy’s face as a star forms before him. “The time I spent with you is something I will always treasure. I thank you for our time together.” As the light in the man’s hand grows its brightest, Tore shakes away what tears were left within and locks his eyes to the end; refusing to look away as he prepares for his former mentor to finish him then and there. Unyielding, to the last bit of life.

Right before the end could come upon him, Tore witnesses a gigantic pike of pure black thrust itself straight through his former mentor; the spear piercing most of the cosmic angel’s chest. A short breath escapes from Mall’s mouth as he displays a haunting mixture of shock and dreads; the stars that had gathered within the his palm dispersing as the pike within his very chest starts to withdraw from whence it came. The gravely wound the spear of black leaves behind shows the inside of the Kybr’s body reflecting the cosmo’s itself, the starry sky leaking out from the head sized hole like thick glittering blood, blood that splatters across the golden floor as Mall falls face first before his blue ward. Tore arises from the cracked glass floor as his former mentor falls face first, confusion and remorse easy to see across the boy’s eyes as he reaches down to the downed angel. “Mall?...” “Yo.” he hears a familiar voice grab his attention with.

His site drawn out towards the very edge of the spire, the indigo angel discovers the pike that had impaled his former master to withdraw to his purple brother’s side; both Roy and Mally standing atop the golden staircase as they gaze upon their blue brother in relief. “Glad to see we made it just in time.” the orange skater states. “Guys...Wha…what are you-” Tore is left to utter the blend of astonishing disbelief still fresh on display. “That shit should be obvious, ain’t it. Came all this way to see ya.” the merc obviously states with a pinch of sass, the two of them waltzing to their brother’s side. “Gotta say, Tore. You seriously wouldn’t believe the sort of sites we saw just trying to find you. Like I got some stories here that’ll make ya question what the hell we were even doing.”  Mally remarks. “Seriously, it was already a pain in the ass to try and figure out where the hell ya went, you should see what sort of rowdy maniacs we had to bring along for the ride.” Roy adds. “Oh please. Like you’re in any position to judge anyone’s character without hypocrisy.” somebody from behind brings up.

Curious of who had given this very statement, the blue boy peers behind his sibs and sees a collection of five climbing over the golden steps that they had risen from ;Alex, Hank, Melvin, Vivi, and Ryan all stepping/hovering up to the top of the spire and taking in its glorious golden site. “Sweet plastic propellers, just look at all this! The blinking rings with wings, the golden swirls along the sheen, the halo spinning above. It all seriously looks like something straight out of a sci-fi novel. Don’t it make ya wanna dig straight in and figure out what sort of tech something like this could even be running on?” Hank geeks out with. “Meh, just looks pretty tacky to me.” Melvin beside him simply states.

Standing along the very rim of the spire, both Vivi and Ryan stare out into the blending site of the starry sky above and the sea of nightly clouds flowing below; the half skeleton left utterly star struck from the view alone. “Fucking sweet Jesus, look at all we be up in here! Its like the heaven went and decides to slip us a little site of the heaven underneath the skirt. We taking in the sweet shit, bitch.” “I just can’t imagine how we’re still even breathing all the way up here.” Ryan simply ponders aloud.

“I-I can’t believe all of you are even... How’d all of you even figured out where I was?” Tore questions his siblings. “Sure as hell wasn’t easy. Mal here kept following trail after trail of breadcrumbs in, out, and all around all over the fuckin place. Like we deadass found a hidden prehistoric land full of dinosaurs just trying to find ya.” “Wha! Aw, lucky. The only highlight of my trip was going down to hell.” the blue boy retorts. “Bruh, you fuckin serious?” While her bro’s continued to discuss points of their adventure, Mally’s gaze drifts over to the winged man that lies before them; the orange skater cutting through their conversation to question her blue bro if: “Uh, Tore. This guy do anything to ya to drag you with him?” The indigo angel ceases to speak for a brief moment as he gloom’s down to the remains of what he once called his spacial master; Tore taking in a deep breath before finally admitting how: “Nope. Went with him on my own?” “You’re kidding right? The hell would wanna make ya leave everyone behind after surviving a life threatening explosion just to pal around with this starry asshat ya barely know?” the purple merc questions him with. “I...I just felt...I just wanted someone with powers like mine to look up to, okay. Maybe to gimme some pointers on how all this works and what else I could do, I don’t know...What was I even thinking?…” Such a statement from their blue brothers draws out pity within their; Roy slightly shaking his head about as he peers down to the body of the cosmic angel.

“Hate to spoil this sentimental moment here, but can anyone enlighten us to what could be forming in the ring above.” “What!?” the blue angel utters, his sadness shattering into troubling alarm as he gazes skyward to the halo spinning above them all. Held within the twirling ring does the picture of the other dimension start to lose transparency, showing more and more of a solid picture depicting numerous angelic beings held within. “No!” Rushing right beside both his siblings does Tore race right to the center of the broken glass platform dwelling in the middle; the blue boy kneeling down and repeatedly slapping the palm of his hand against one of the chunks of glass. “Come on! Come on!” Despite repeatedly beating his hand against the glass, not a single sheen of light comes protruding out from its surface; the indigo angel letting out a frustrated groan before claiming aloud how: “Agh! The panel is completely broken! There’s no way to shut it off! So how else can we stop the warpgate from-...That’s it!”

Almost immediately does the blue boy race back towards his siblings side; the friends that they had gathered coming together as Tore proclaims to them how: “Guys, listen. If the control panel is down, then we don’t have much other choice then to head down in the center of this warpgate and destroy the Orphan.” “I like where this is going.” Alex remarks. “Say again?” Hank requests. “You seriously wantin us to fuck up an orphan, mate?” Vivian questions. “No, I- Th-That’s what they just call the core.” “Fucking call it the core then for god sake! Why ya gotta name it something so ominous?” Ryan blurts out. “But we didn’t find any other hall climbing up here. How the hell you expect us to find it?” Melvin asks. “Only a Kybr can use their power to open the way down into the center. But we gotta hurry; there might not be much time left.” Upon this desperate plea does Tore start to follow the others as all of them sprint out to the stairs they came up from; every single one of them stopping straight dead in their tracks when all of them hear a voice demanding that they all: “Stop!”

This very call withdraws their attention back towards the center of the spire; all of them beholding the man that Roy had struck down slowly hobbling right off the broken glass beneath his feet, despite harboring the gaping hole in his chest that continues to bleed out the cosmo’s. In between his breaths does he aim his piercing glare to them all as he claims to them how: “I refuse to let it end like this...I refuse to spend another waking moment in this world without the warming embrace of my own kind.” With this declaration cemented, an incredible wave of spacial power begins to envelope the angel’s wounded body; his once human like skin beginning to reflect countless planets, stars, and entire galaxies. “The Kybr are coming home!”

This commitment set, a monumental torrent of cosmic energy bursts out from Mall’s very being; a powerful shock wave that nearly sends everyone flying right off the spire. The earthly night sky is rend apart to reveal the depths of the cosmos underneath the blanket of stars, all while Mall’s body starts to implode in order to start metamorphosing into an entirely different being. Midst this transformation do both Roy and Mall cast forth a beam of dark purple and the yoyo gadget respectively;  their desperate assault however repelled back by the incredible spacial gravity that floods out from their foe.

The angel’s drastic transformation proving to be utterly unstoppable, the boy that Mall had once called his own ward turns back over to all to his friends and family and demands that Roy: “Roy. I need you to lead everyone down into the hall and slap your hand against the inner side. You’ll open up a tunnel that leads down to the very center of the warpgate. You’ll know you found the core when you see a glowing baby floating in the middle of a bunch of spinning golden ring.” “Is that seriously why they call it the Orphan? What the f-” “Just go now! Before the portal opens!” All but the blue angel start to races straight down the golden step dash through into the hall without so much as another word; leaving Tore to face the mass of cosmic space he had once knew as his master, watching as countless wings start to sprout from the collection of cosmos. It doesn’t matter if you can’t be beaten, it doesn’t matter if you have the entirety of space under your beck and call. Just need to buy time for them all to go down and stop the warp gate from opening. If they can do all that, then it’ll be all worth it. It’ll be all worth it. It won’t matter if this is how things end.

Among his moment of preparation for what he may presume to be his final moments facing immeasurable odds, Tore then discovers both his brother and sister coming to his sides; the indigo angel demanding to know: “What are you two doing!? If the core isn’t destroyed then-” “Relax. Our pals down there got it all covered. And beside, you need more help up here than they do down there.” his orange sister informs. “Nrr! Do you know what’s even at stake here!?” “You seriously think we don’t know? We didn’t wind up following this trail of vague clues just to be told to piss off. We fought through the worst sort of shit nature could possibly hack up from every one of its holes just to find ya, and were damn well not gonna just up and leave like that.” Roy boasts out. “We started this hole journey separated, so now were gonna finish it together. You’re stuck with us weather you like it or not, and their ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.” Mally protests. “Guys…” Despite this nigh upset tone, a river of tears begin to flood out from the ducts of his eyes; Tore letting out a small snivel before crying: “Thanks. You two are the best pair of siblings anyone could ask for.” After their blue brother wipes away the tears from his eyes, he joins his purple brother and orange sister as they steel their conviction against the outer worldly foe before them; taking their stand against such immeasurable odds together.

The mass of unfiltered cosmic space finally takes its tangible form before the trio; hundreds upon hundreds of wings stretching for miles on end all swirls out from the center, their flesh made from the twinkling stars and galaxies of the universe as countless eyes all open upon from beneath its very skin. In the very center of this celestial body where the countless wings swirl from, a massive eye opens that twinkles and glows like the depths of the cosmos itself. The angel’s celestial transformation finished, Mall lets out a heavenly holy roar from the depths of their very soul; an incredible howl that shatters the very space they all dwell in. The scene of the golden tower breaks apart into thousands of pieces, the very floor they stand on crumbles away, the sky itself shatters until none of it remains; all of it swallowed by the scene of stars, planets, galaxies all floating within the depths of space. Tore, Mally, and Roy all now hover within this very cosmos with their holy foe floating before them, every single eye along the angel’s body staring down upon them all.

The first assault that the holy abomination throws out against the trio be an entire wave of numerous planetoids that all streak out from the cosmo’s held withing Mall’s very wings; all of them boasting unique shapes as they hurdle out towards the three. Seeing the storm of approaching planets close in, Tore grasps his sisters hand as both Roy and he glide out to the approaching barrage of worlds; soaring along and over the surface of not just spherical planets, but flat discs, waning crescents, leaning parallelograms, and numerous other strangely shaped polygons that careen in their direction. While holding onto her brother as he soars through the stream of small planets, Mally feels the light gravity of each beckon her to their almost smooth, polished surfaces; their gravitational pull giving the orange skater a clever little idea. “Tore!” she alerts her blue brother with. “Yeah?” “I think I know a way to close the distance. Fling me to one of those planet.” “What!? What are you even-” “Just do it!”

Despite his initial hesitation, the indigo angel flings his orange sister out towards one of the approaching disc shaped planetoids; Mally reaches out from behind to pull out her skating gear and swiftly starts to strap on her skates. The lass manages to don her skates moments before she approaches the planets surface and glides across its very face as smoothly as a knife cutting through silky smooth butter; the orange skater taking out both her hockey stick and grapple yo as she nears the end of the planetoid. Reaching the very edge does Mally leap right off the planet and out towards the next, flipping across space as she escapes the gravitational pull of the previous world and let the triangular one ahead pull her straight in. Gliding right across one of the triangle worlds sides, the orange skater sets her sites outwards towards a nearby waning crescent and leaps right off towards the moon; feeling the gravity pull against her body as she jumps between these planets. Mally glides across the inner edge of the waning moonside as naturally as a halfpipe, weaving around large worms that burrow in and out from the moon’s very rock; her sites drawn over towards a hexagram world made from crystallized tungsten and keeps her grapple yo handy when nearing the end of the crescent she skates on. Launching herself straight off the side of the moon, the orange lass drifts out towards the tungsten hexagram and cast her trusty gadget out to one of its pointed ends; the grapple yo’s string wrapping around the rugged point and letting the girl twirl around and around, constantly using the momentum to keep building speed. Upon finally unraveling her string from the point of raw tungsten, Mally flings herself out at breakneck speed; making a complete beeline straight for their celestial foe.

Closing the distance between her and the angelic horror, the orange haired girl swings her hockey stick towards the monstrous angel’s center eye; her tip of her weapons head stopping just short of Mall’s starry sclera. The orange lass is forced to a stop right before she could strike her leviathan foe, Mally struggling to push against whatever force is stopping her short of smacking the eye of the holy monster. Midst her struggles is she ultimately catapulted away from the abominations twinkling eye by an incredibly strong wave of space, one that Mally blocks with the neck of her weapon. Though she is mostly spared from the overwhelming spacial power, her precious hockey stick is scrambled to pieces under the powerful wave; Mally threatening to drift out towards the depths of the cosmo’s.

Before the young girl could drift too far out into the depths of the infinite, a streak of black and violet sweeps her away; Mally opening her eyes to find herself resting in her purple brothers arms. “Damn, took one helluva blow there, huh. Shocked your still in once piece.” he comments. “But, but my hockey stick…” she utters, peering over her brother’s shoulder. Glancing back to where his sis stares does he see what was left of her once treasured weapons; its remains threatening to drift away into the cosmos. “Hang on a sec.” the purple angel request as he casts his newfound dark arm out towards what was left of his sisters weapon. Upon nearing the scattered pieces of wood does the arm split into dozens of strands that all reach out to every single fractured splinter that once made up the hockey stick; all of its chunks cobbling together among the mass of darkness as it retreats back to its very sender. When returning to their side, Mally finds her destroyed weapon now glued back together by the very matter that makes up her brother’s arm; Roy himself handing the rebuilt hockey back into his sisters hand as he ask her how: “You remember how I get my arm to transform?” “By thought, right?” “Think of a weapon while ya hold it.” Like her brother instructs her to do, Mally starts to concentrate on a particular new weapon different to the one in her hands; the orange lass witnessing the head of her hockey stick engulf in the black matter that holds it together, stretching out into the long black blade of a great scythe. “There ya go.” “Nice.”

Its in this very moment that the stars within the cosmic angel’s center eyes start dim, Mall’s entire pupil and sclera darkening as black as coal, the rest of the eyes decorating the holy monsters wings following suit and dimming into darkness. The trio watch as their galactic foe splits themselves straight in half, both fracture pieces parting ways to unveil a tiny black dot that begins to draw in the nearby stars; the hole quickly growing to threaten to pull all of them into its void. Amidst being dragged straight into the darkness, Roy tosses his sister away from the hole’s monumental pull; the strength of the merc’s throw letting Mally escape towards a nearby planet as both he and Tore are threatened to be pulled into the black holes depths. Among gliding across the stars, the orange skater acts fast and flings her trusty grapple yo out towards her retreating blue brother; grabbing the blue boy’s attention with: “Tore!” Peering out where his orange sister floats away, the indigo angel sees the girls yoyo wrap itself all around his leg and further hears Mally demand that he: “Grab Roy!”

Without so much as another word does Tore start to race out towards their purple brother as he threatens to plunge into the void, all while their orange sis drifts off towards a nearby planet with her weapon at the ready. Upon touching down onto the planets surface, Mally digs the head of her transformed weapon straight into the worlds very soil; strands of the blade breaking off and rooting themselves into the planet. As her blue brother clutches their violet siblings arm moments as they were nearing the abyss, Mally wraps the steel string of her gadget around her very arm and keeps a tight hold of them both; fighting against the overwhelming strength of the black hole’s pull. Amidst her steadfast struggle does the steel string around her arm harshly chaff her, the incredibly tight friction cutting through her skin and causing her arm to bleed; the orange lass refusing to let go despite the overwhelming pain. For about half a minute straight does the orange girl keep her brothers from falling into the depths of the black hole, even as space around her is rend into its lifeless void; Mally’s pupil’s glowing a distinct blood red as she keeps hold of the pair of angels.

But at long last does the strength of the void finally dissolve away and its very pull fading from the space around them; Mally jerking her brothers back out towards her as the black hole finally putters out into nothingness. Rescued from their doom, Tore lets out a sharp hiss when discovering the orange girls arm left cut and torn as the blood that leaves it hovers out into the depths of space. Aw, that ain’t good. That seriously isn’t good. While unwrapping his sister gadget from his own leg leg, the blue boy notices the yoyo’s shell glowing alight; the crystal held within reflecting a glow quite similar to the life he’s pulled from other sources. Think it needs a tiny bit more juice. Clasping the shell of the gadget into the palm of his hand, the indigo angel disperses a little more of his power into the crystal with; his sisters grapple yo glowing brighter with a multitude of colors. Once beaming bright with life, Tore flings his siblings gadget back into her side as its string retracts into the shell; some of the power kept with splashing onto the girls arm as the grapple yo returns into her hand. This very power closes Mally’s bleeding wound and mends the pain throbbing across her arm; the skater herself recovering from the agonizing suffering and peering over to see her gadget to find its shell beaming with colorful light. “We got ya back, Mal.” the blue angel claims “Go ahead and beat this mofo down.” their purple brother tells her. Knowing her brothers got her back, Mally casts her colorful glowing gadget straight out to a nearby asteroid; the skater retracting the string back to fling herself out towards their holy foe.

Among gliding out towards the cosmic angel before them, the orange skater first comes across an entire cluster of solid stars and asteroids standing in her way; Mally drifting herself out towards one of these solid stars and leaping right across its crystallized surface and bouncing from star to star. Once making out of the dense star cluster does the girl then discover a planet with a ring around it similar to Saturn’s own; a big smile stretching across her face as she nears the very edge of the ring. With nothing but her own pair of skates does Mally grind right across the rings sharp edge, the sparks that result from grinding along the ring glowing a starry light as she slides right across the planets ring and leaps back out towards the spacial angel before them.

With the angel’s foes on the approach, Mall’s center eyes closes for a moment as its wings close inward; opening its pupil wide once more and flapping their wings to send out a visible pulse of cosmic radiation, a wave which reduces all that stand in its path. The threat of this radioactive wave ready to tear them all asunder, the pair of angels streak right past their orange sister and prepare to disperses the oncoming assault; the blue boy out of them shouting how: “Still got some life left in me!” Placing the palms of his hands upon his very chest, Tore draws forth colorful batch of power from the depths of his very body and unleashes it all into an intense beam of rainbows; the colorful ray cutting straight through half of the radiation. “That’s the spirit. Lets show this cosmic bastard why you shouldn’t piss us off!” Roy cheers on as he sharpen his onyx arm into the shape of a giant blade. With but a couple of swipes does the violet angel manage to slice straight through what remains of the radioactive wave; finally clearing the way and letting their sister streak right by.

With nothing else standing in the way towards the angelic horror, the orange skater starts to tie the string of her glowing grapple yo right around the neck of her dark matter infused weapon; commanding the very material to transform the hockey stick into a twinblade, one with a deadly swords protruding out from each end. With both her gadget and weapon tied together, Mally flings both of them out as she starts to twirl through the space before the holy horror; Mall themselves attempting to prevent the girls oncoming assault by stretching the space between them. In a ball of brilliant life and scorning rage, tied together by blood do the weapons streak straight through the artificially lengthened space and strike the angel straight into the center of its middle eye; pieces of the cosmic holy being breaking apart as he reels back from the overwhelming impact.

Shortly after the blow does Mall let out a holy screech that pushes back all that near; the skater that inflicted the blow sent flying back out to the depths of the cosmo’s behind her. Before she could be cast away into the endless infinite, a streak of white and blue zooms out and swipes the girl back toward their purple brothers side; Tore stopping right beside his purple brother just in time to witness their foe arise back up from the blow; its flapping wings distorting the very space it dwells within. “Didn’t like that too much, did it? Practically throwing a shit fit, tearing up space like a little tike shredding paper here.” Roy belittles. “If Mall doesn’t like this, then he sure ain’t gonna appreciate the rest of what we got to give him.” his blue brother expresses with clear vitriol in his voice.

Among venturing through the warpgate’s inner tunnels of numerous running veins and pulsing flesh, Vivi, Ryan, Melvin, Hank and Alex all finally come to the very core and behold the Orphan in all of its shinning glory; the child hovering in the middle glimmering brightly midst the rings that surround it. “Holy shit, man. You guys even consider for a sec the whole uncomfortable subtexts of this sorta bull might be; like fucking step back and think for a sec here. It’s all the theories with the final boss of Earthbound all over again about Giygas being a-” Before the young teen could finish his implicate thoughts over what they were about to do, the rest of them all immediately charge out towards the holy core all at once; Ryan himself letting out a small sigh before he runs after and proclaiming: “Sure whatev, just-...We don’t even have a plan yet!”

Hovering into the air before the shimmering holy core, Hank taps a few buttons along his armrest to unleash an entire cluster of missiles constructed from soup cans from his wheelchair compartments; a holy light beginning to glow out from the dozens of eyes that decorate the Orphans revolving rings as the missiles approach. In but a matter of seconds do all the eyes fire out a salvo of bright rays that curve through the air, perfectly striking out every single makeshift missile hank had launched out; reducing their aluminum to smoldering slag.

Among all the resulting smoke from the failed missile strike, Alex rockets upwards towards the very core of the Orphan in an attempting a beeline assault from below, transforming his arms into deadly weapons as he nears the outer rings. With the demon approaching, the outer rim starts to violently spin about as the light from its numerous eyes starts to glisten once more; the holy glow that glimmers from its pupils soon  transforms into a solid shape and smacks Alex aside. Latched upon the veins hanging overhead, Vivian then tries to her luck in bombing down towards the core from below; the ring spinning in the opposite direction to swing its objects of solid light out to the skull girl and smack her aside like the demon.

Lunging out in the middle like a tried and true arrow, Melvin swipes through the ring’s solid light and reduces their glow to glittering shards that dissipate in the air; slipping by the rest of the rings and ready to strike the very core. Alas is the young man’s attempts thwarted when the Orphan lets out a Holy outcry similar to a crying infant; a wave of brilliant light that launches Melvin away.

While Hank simply hovers back to Ryan’s side, the other three roughly crash right before the two; Ryan taking in a little breath before asking the trio: “So, you guys wanna try charging out like a buncha eager jackass’s or do you wanna actually formulate a plan here?” “Fuck off!” all three of them shout.

Back up above do Tore, Mally, and Roy continue to thwart off the spacial assault thrown to them by the cosmic holy horror hovering before them; all three watching closely as the angelic being commands every star that occupies the cosmo’s around them to gather before him. Every single glistening star is collected out from the depths of space and is gathered before Mall, their numerous gaseous light collaborating together into an intensely bright and powerfully hot sun; this freshly born star’s very surface blistering hot enough to spew out flames from its very surface that all rocket towards the trio. The three split apart as the bouts of searing flames near them all, nearly avoiding being cooked alive as the purple merc among them states that: “Think it’s my turn to take a shot at this celestial asshole.”

Declaring such does the violet angel take off after the celestial entity set behind the very sun it had conjured, all while the sun’s surface continue to spew out dozens upon dozens of solar flares across its surface; both his brother and sister watching his back as he starts to move in. As some of these searing pillars of flame start to streak out towards the purple merc, his indigo brother swoops straight in with a lively power held in his hands; Tore casting out a colorful wave from the palm of his hand to disperse the approaching flare. When this beam of rainbows streaks right along his side, Roy feels something else irradiate from beneath this very wave; the violet angel peering back towards its very caster to sense that feeling coming from his very own brother. Set upon his face as clear as day could Roy see the seething anger painted across Tore’s face, showing the new found contempt he feels nowhere near being as much as what wells within the depths of his very soul; such a righteous fury making his new arm of dark black quiver.

Amidst staring out to his blue brother do numerous more flames come spewing out from the surface of the small sun; the fiery inferno’s streaking across space and towards the approaching violet angel. Just moments before these approaching fires could envelope the purple merc in their blazing fury, Roy feels a strand of steel string envelope his very hips and peers aside to see his orange sister pulling herself out towards him with freshly repaired hockey stick in hand; Mally swinging herself out before her violet brother to confront the approaching flame. Brandishing her trusty weapon does the orange skater start to rapidly twirl it out against the flames as the dark matter keeping it together widens out into giant fans, the black fan’s massive width quelling the solar flames away and reducing them to meager embers.

While his sis swings right out from his very flight path, the purple merc finds her donning a similar glare akin to their blue brothers anger; a potent rage directed towards their spacial foe. Tore looked up to this guy and in the end just wound up stabbing him in the back. And Mally here risked life and limb just to track him down and we come up to see all this shit go down. Ain’t hard to see why they’re so mad at this bastard. Sympathizing with his siblings unkempt fury, Roy feels his newfound limb begin to violently pulse upon these feeling of justified anger, the merc looking to the quivering arm as a sinister smile stretches across his cheeks.

Upon nearing the scorching sunlight, the violet angel thrusts his dark arm straight out towards the blistering bright star; the dark matter that makes up his hand growing to exponential size while its very finger start to twist and contort themselves into a recognizable shape. The cosmic angel’s sparkling pupil shrink when beholding the mass of darkness spread before him and very sun he had conjured; the mass of dark matter set before the holy being expanding into the leviathan sized head of a pitch black wolf. Mall left with only a few seconds before both them and the star they had conjured are devoured in a single bite, the sun vanishes underneath the black canines maw as the light that came from the sun is snuffed out; darkness starts to settle within the very space they all dwell.

Just meager seconds after this black void settles do pillars of pure light start to pierce straight through the head of the dark wolf and seep out into the surrounding cosmo’s; the wolf eventually exploding in a big bang as waves of galaxies flow out from the blast. From this brilliant supernova does the purple angel’s arm retract back to his side, all while he hand his siblings peering out beyond all the cosmic colors to behold the cosmic angel hovering in the center of it all; all of them noticing the numerous wings that the holy being had boasted reduced in numbers. “Doesn’t seem like this galactic jackass can take much more.” the merc claims. “We just need to get one more clean hit in and this angel will be down for the count.” the orange skater suggests. “I’m the guy that started this whole mess, seems only fitting that I go in and end it.” the blue boy offers.

Down within the inner workings of the warp gate does Ryan continue to watch his four comrades continue to fruitlessly attempt to break through the Orphan’s defenses, watching as Vivian keeps recklessly charging out, Alex’s constantly shifting and morphing weapon limbs, Melvin’s leaps and bounds along every angel he could take; and Hank trying numerous weapons and gadgets; all of it deflected, smacked aside, and pushed back by the Orphan’s might. Thrust straight into the wall of veins and flesh, the demon gazes over to the core that they assaulted to find the results of their attack having done less than little; the rings spinning along the Orphan continuing to glow as bright as the heavens. Thought the frustration beginning to build within him over this seemingly unbreakable wall, all that anger starts to subside when he eyes the skull girl pulling her severed bone arm right out from between a set of veins; Vivi jerking her arm back to finally uproot her limb and tear through the squishy flesh. From within these torn veins does a strange liquid spurt out and spill onto the floor, Alex following where the torn veins would lead to and sees this fleshy pipe stretching to the center of the chamber; it and other pipes protruding up to the Orphan right above.

Its upon this very discovery that the orange haired demon starts piecing together a plausible strategy within his black horned head, first calling Vivi’s attention with: “Hey, you withered skeletal annoyance, I need your attention for a moment!” The demon’s call proves incredibly effective at drawing the huffed half skeleton straight to him, Vivian getting all up in Alex’s face as she growl: “The hell’s yo problem, ya fuckin whole horned cock head!?” Pushing the skull girl away, Alex then points out towards the walls of the chamber and asks her: “Please direct what little span of attention you can wield and peer out to the numerous pipes and veins that decorate these walls.” Gazing out to the very veins the demon points towards, Vivi responds back with: “Yeah, pretty damn disturbing if ya ask me. The hell’s your point?” “From what I’ve been informed, you’re at least decently competent with a scythe.” “Who the hell told ya that shit!?” she blurts out. “I need you to travel along these very walls cutting these numerous veins that pump out precious juices straight into the core. Like that, we can effectively cut off our foe’s support.” “Ya got two limbs that can turn into fucking swords! The hell’s stopping you from doing it?” “Because I am in the midst of formulating a plan. One that might just give us what we need to stop our encroaching doom, and I unfortunately need all of your cooperation.” Hearing the demon’s words, Vivian peers back over to all the fleshy pipes that the walls of the core’s chamber as a blend of worry and doubt washes over her. The girl takes a moment to take in a calming breath before she claims that she’s: “Fine. On it.”

Midst racing towards the very edge of the chamber, the skull girl stretches her boney limb out into the air while focusing on the very tool that she loathes; the very same scythe that proves as a reminder of her fate. In a flash of bright lime green does the scythe of death materialize in Vivian’s hand, the skull girl clutching its neck with both hands as she approaches the numerous precious veins that lend the core its very life. While racing across the side of the chamber, Vivi flails the blade of her scythe against the numerous veins that decorate its very walls; bouts of ooze bursting out from underneath their cut flesh. While watching his skeletal ally rend apart the dozens of fleshy pipes set across the walls, Alex finds all the color that flows through these veins fade away and drain the core connected to them of precious support; the light that shines from the Orphan slowly starting to dim.

The piece of his plan falling into place, Alex peers over to the wayside and finds both Hank and Ryan in the middle of reloading their crudely made weaponry; the demon appearing to their side in a puff of smoke as Ryan questions: “The hell is Vivi doing flailing her scythe around like a mad woman? Practically gonna lose more than an arm doing that.” “Your foul tempered pal there is busy weakening the core’s support in accordance to my strategy. I’m sure whatever she loses can be firmly glued back on.” the demon answers. “Ooh, a strategy? Just what sort of plan ya got cookin up in that horned head of yours?” Hank gleefully questions. “The next step of my brilliant strategy is to halt the numerous rings from rapidly twirling about in order to gauge closer to the core. Hmm...Alas, I don’t imagine much in here that could serve to slow their rotation.” “I think I got something here that might cover that.” the wheelchair bound genius mentions while reaching down into a compartment along the side of his chair.

From the pocket of his chair does Hank pull out a couple guns crudely made from discarded plastic and splintered wood; both Alex and Ryan gazing upon these presented weapons with their own brand of “are you fucking kidding me here”, the demon among them questioning: “What manner of shoddy craftsmanship is this?” “Am I glad you asked. These babies are specifically designed in mind to fire out a special quick drying adhesive I use when constructing any aircraft’s. This stuff’s seriously strong enough to take going through a raging twister and coming out whole.” “Where did you get something that strong?” Ryan follows. “Something that me and I couple of my workshop pal’s cooked up out of old chewed up gum, tree sap, glue, rhino snot and-” “Don’t care. Just use it to keep that things rings from moving another inch.” Alex demands out of them both.

Upon this very request does Hank toss Ryan one of these specially made weapons as both of them race out towards the sides of the chamber, the chairbound genius gliding out towards the left as his parnter jumps out to the right. When along both of the glowing Orphan’s sides, the two boys pull the triggers of their crude guns for their barrels to spurt out globs of white glue straight out towards the core’s outer rings; the child hovering in the middle letting out an irritated outcry as some of the adhesive lands straight into the ring’s eyes.

Midst partaking in the truly bizarre site of both boys constantly firing out globs of glue out to the angelic monstrosity set before him, Melvin is left in a sort of strange disbelief from this site laying out before him; the young man lightly shaking his head as he mentions: “I...I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for the sort of shit I’d see today.” “Then I sure hope you’re prepared to follow my lead in the finale.” Alex demands as he glides right by, Melvin growls over while he joins the demon’s side; both of them lunge forth towards the shinning Orphan at breakneck speeds.

Out from along the reaches of the freshly created cosmos, Tore and his siblings start racing straight out towards the cosmic angel; discussing on how they’ll deliver the final blow as Roy ask: “Both of us threw all we got at this galactic son of a bitch,  how ya wanna end things bro?” “I’m just about tapped out myself here. You guys don’t mind given me a bit of a boost here, do ya?” the indigo angel asks. “Whateva ya need, man.” “Yeah, big bro. What ya need us to do.” Mally agrees. “Okay, ju-just don’t panic if it feels like your dying. I promise I’m just gonna take a little here.” “Wait, little of wha-”

Before the merc could question what exactly his blue brother was on about, Tore slaps his palms along his sibs sides; the two feeling rather woozy as the indigo angel extracts some of their life forced from the depths of their bodies. “Whoo. Holy...What the heck was that all about?” the orange skater questions, shaking off her inherent dizziness. “It’ll be the parts of you guys I need to end this.” Tore proclaims, holding both bits of life he had collected from his siblings in both hands. In a single moment does he shove essence of their very souls straight through his chest, their life force surging through his body and melding with his with his own to create a burst of raw power; a rainbow of colors surging through his entire body. “Ready to go!”

With the very life force given to him by his siblings held withing his very body, Tore zooms out towards their celestial foe with both his brother and sister by his side; Mall twisting the very space before him to hinder their assault forth and creating countless wormholes around them. Though Tore manages to evade the reach of these numerous wormholes, both of the indigo angel’s siblings unfortunately fall through a pair of portals that swallow them hole; the two of them spat out far behind their blue bro. “Ain’t gonna get us outta the game that easily!” Mally warns as both her and Roy casting forth her grapple yo and his new dark arm respectively, spearheading through the cosmo’s to reach their blue brother. When the limb and gadget both wrap themselves around the indigo angel’s legs, the two of them shoot throughout the depths of space and start to close the gap between them.

From what remained of the Kybr’s true form, Mall expels out entire galaxies from the cosmos held within his numerous fractured wings; their starry edges their very edges cutting through the very space they dwell in like a galactic saw blade. As the indigo angel weaves around the solar systems that are launches his way, his siblings latched behind him smack away their very stars as they get closer and closer to their blue bro; each galaxy breaking into nothing but stardust open being struck. With just a few moments away from collision, the cosmic angel unfurls their wings and sends forth one last leviathan galaxy out in an effort and thwart their assault once and for; Mall’s blue ward left in awe from the sheer size of the sent out solar system that hurdles his way. Just when facing the end of his final assault upon his former master, the blue boy witnesses siblings fling themselves out from behind him and towards the oncoming galaxy; both the orange skater and purple merc using the dark weapons in their hands to slice the very stars into shards and giving their brother the way forth. “All you Tore!” “Go for it!” Both his loyal brother and sister having given him a way forth towards the end, Tore speeds out towards their celestial foe as fast as he could; packing all the power he had gathered into his fist as he nears Mall’s center eye.

Within the core chamber, all of the glue that both Hank and Ryan had shot out in their pinching barrage starts to stick to the Orphans spiraling golden rings and keeps them from moving another inch; their ammunition running out before they could shoot out to the last few rings closest to the core. “I’m out.” Ryan warns. “Me too.” Hank adds. “Shit, now what?” Melvin questions. “We keep moving!” Alex orders. The demon determined to finish the final step of his strategy, both Melvin and Alex lunge forth towards the glistening child like core.

Seeing the core itself unleash a shining ray out towards them both, the young man zips out ahead and powers straight through the burning light to reach towards inner rings protecting the Orphan. Upon landing right above the core does Melvin take an iron vice grip onto the few remaining golden rings, feeling their incredible holy light burn his demonic infused hands as he keeps the halo’s from moving another inch. “Finish it!” he screams out. Requested out from his partner, the orange demon prepares to deal the ending attack to the open infant shaped core among the still halos; Alex morphing his arm into a sharp tipped pike as he nears towards the end.

Putting every single bit of power he had left to muster behind his swing, Tore thrusts his colorfully glowing fist straight through his former mentor’s center eye; Mall letting out a loud, ear piercing shriek as the life his student had gathered breaks apart his celestial body.

Once before the child shaped core of the warp gate, Alex thrusts his transformed pike limb straight through its glowing body; the core letting out a loud outcry as the darkness from the demon’s arm spreads within and fractures it to pieces.

Upon both of these finishing blows are the space around them all engulfed in a brilliant light; blinding all who behold its majestic glory as both the cosmic angel and holy child’s forms break apart. This awesome heavenly light slowly begins to fade away from view, away from this very existence only for all to dim into darkness once more.

An exhausted groan escapes him as Tore starts to open his eyes, obtaining the first lovely view of the morning sun arising out from the cloudy sea; the blue boy pushing himself right off the golden floor and stands upon his very knee’s. Peering over does he discover not just his family that had aided him in his ultimate hour of need, but all their friends as well; all of them lying along the golden spire floor unconscious; the early sunlight shinning its warming glow upon their sides. We’re back...Does that mean…? His vision peers skywards towards the golden halo hanging above them all, the picture of the other dimension held within its very rim was no more. The boy’s head droops down to the golden floor as an incredible relief washes over the indigo angel; certain this entire ordeal, the threat of the Kybr, was stopped just in time. His eyes arising from his own relieved reflection along the golden floor, a forlorn stare spread across his face as a peculiar site catches the blue boy’s attention; the blue boy finally standing on his own two feet and stumbling over towards such.

When awakening from their exhausted stupor, each one of them find themselves laying outside the spire and take in the welcoming site of the morning sky; the fresh twilight breeze all the more relaxing after the turmoil they had endured. While taking in the wonderful site along with their well earned victory, Mally suddenly feels somebody tackle her back down upon the ground; peering over her shoulder upon falling to discover her skeletal pal giving her a tight hug as she shout: “Hell yeah, bitch! That whole fucking show was insane! Still can’t believe all of us stopped shit from hitting the fan here!” “You’re telling me. I didn’t think we were gonna make it. After all the crazy stuff we all went through, It’s hard to believe we stopped all this from going off.” the orange skater admits.

During their little celebration, Hank rolls along over alongside Ryan as the wheelbound genius takes in a much more intrigued look to their surroundings and claims that: “Now that we stopped all of heavenly hell from busting loose. I wanna take a real good look at the kind of technology that makes this big old tower tick. I wonder how many gadgets and gizmo’s I could make from salvaging its parts?” “Seriously hope yer not planning on using any of the nasty shit we saw down there; cause I ain’t touching any of that stuff as long as I live. The way that all that squishy meat felt under his feet is something I might haveta blow money at just going to therapy for.”

“From the way things sound, seems like all of you did a bang ass job without us. Bravo there, kids.” Roy applauds to both Alex and Melvin, who stand before him. “Well, it was mostly thanks to my strategic prowess that the day had been won. No need to thank me.” the demon boasts aloud. “Motherfuc- So all the effort we put in to stop all that from going down wasn’t that important, that what you mouthin off over?” Melvin barks. “Please. As if that’s what I mean’t.  All of the components around me were what made my vision possible...Though I doubt any of you would come up with anything half as brilliant.” Its in this last comment that the shots had been fired and horses take off, both of them going off on each other like set off C4 explosives of screaming complaints and insults; Roy shaking his head as he peers away from the two and out towards his blue brother.

Midst watching her friends talk to themselves over what all they went through, Mally see’s her purple brother venturing over to Tore’s side; the orange girl parting from her friends to join Roy in checking on him. The two witness find their blue brother kneeling down onto the golden floor, noticing a strange light emanating from the blue boy’s front. “Tore, you okay there?” his violet sibling worries. “...I’m fine.” he answers with clear melancholy, keeps his eyes to the light underneath. Peeking out from behind him do both Roy and Mally find their blue brother staring down upon a glint of light that hover’s above the palms of his hands; the sparkling glow glimmering like the very cosmo’s. “Is that who we think it is?” Mally questions. “All that’s left of him. And all that might ever be.” the indigo angel answers, rising upon his own two feet.

Continuing to gaze down to the cosmic glow left within his hands, Tore walks out towards the wayside of the golden spire; friends and family alike gazing to him as he walks towards the very edge. “Tore.” Along his very back do the boy’s wings of white protrude outwards, the indigo angel finally leaping off the very edge of the spire; all of them venturing to the edge to watch as the boy hovers down towards the sea of clouds below. “He might have to think some things through, Mal. Think we should just give him some time to himself.” his purple brother suggests.

His saddening gaze is kept upon the reminisce of his former master that now rests upon his gentle palm, Tore continues to hover down to the fluff below with the golden spire at his back; the light of Mall’s remains shinning as they passing down through the clouds. The light of the morning sun continues to arise from the cloud horizon as he slowly descends downward; its twilight glow reflecting off the edge of the shinning golden spire. Alas can its light not overshadow the bit of the cosmo’s that rests within the angel’s hand; its glow reflecting within Tore’s own eyes. Finally does he descend down through the sea of clouds, the cosmic glow in his hands shinning past the numerous clouds before he passes down through the bottom. A flock of countless tropical birds rises right past the blue boy; Tore keeping his eyes glued to the glint of his former mentor as tears start to drizzle out down towards tropical jungle down below.

Among his lamenting descent does Tore gently land down onto the jungle floor along the base of the spire, the grass beneath his feet parting as he touches down on the earth. Tore parts his palms out from beneath what remained of his once beloved mentor, letting the last bits of the cosmic angel flutter down towards the ground and disappearing into the earth. A small snivel escapes as the indigo angel wipes away the tears that flow down from his very cheeks; the blue boy gaze out to the vast jungle set before him to behold the flora and fauna alike that bask in the welcome morning sun together. It’s a new day. A fresh start. Everyone wakes up to the lives they walk. I just wished you could’ve shared in it all with me...Thanks Mall, for showing me how much its all worth. A small breath leaves his lunges before he begin to walk away from the golden Kybr spire set behind him; his wings glistening with bits of colorful glitter trailing behind as he walks forth into the unknown beyond. Along the ground he left behind does a lone plant start to sprout out from the earth; the small stalk of a flower who’s petals show the depths of the cosmos.

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

Words cannot simply describe how long I've been waiting to write this whole arc out. From its strange beginning all the way up to its dynamic and bittersweet conclusion. I've seriously been planning to make something like this along the lines of 2 years, but knew I had to simply pace myself and wait for the moment to do so. That arc of one of the main characters finding a rolemodol, but having them be someone that they would have to stop in the end. To those of you that have actually stuck around this long, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to read the sort of stuff that comes out from my brain. Writing this redo these past couple years have shown me ways to improve my writing techniques for the future, and I have a bunch of amazing characters created by so many others to thank for it. Thank you for letting me mold these stories.

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope #next generation

[mattzerella-sticks]

Heart Eyes, Motherfucker (ao3 link)

Izuku knows that where Mei goes, trouble follows. And what Mei creates, will ultimately come back to bite him in the ass. Which is why he's wary when she comes to him, seeking help for an assignment. But when she describes her latest creation - a camera that can capture what a person is thinking - he believes there isn't any reason he should be afraid. By helping her with this, there isn't a way for it to blow up in his face.

That is, until the wrong person's photo is taken, exposing something that he would've liked to keep hidden.

           Izuku gently sets the camera down, careful not to trigger a hidden mechanism that might, quite literally, blow up in his face. The memory of Mei Hatsune’s last gift is still fresh in his mind, how the tiny, innocent earbuds exploded once he connected his phone to them. It sent him to Recovery Girl’s ward, and then for the remainder of the week Izuku couldn’t hear anything. Wariness lessens the blow from Mei’s frown, her disappointment palpable at how he didn’t immediately accept her camera. She’s gotten ahead of herself. “I’m not saying no,” he starts, choosing his words carefully, “I just want to know what it is before I do anything.”

           “It’s a camera,” Mei tells him, “It takes pictures.”

           “Is that all?”

           “Well, they’re pretty good pictures…” She taps her chin, eyes spinning wildly as she navigates the labyrinthine puzzle of her thoughts. Her expression shifts, a wide grin that almost splits her face in two like the sun breaking through dark grey and shining bright. “They’re actually better pictures than you’d get from an average camera! After the modifications I made to it –“

           “Yes, modifications!” Izuku interrupts, jumping into the fray before she shifts the conversation elsewhere. “You admit you’ve played around with it?”

           She huffs, a dial shifting inside that changes her mood again. Now, she’s offended. “I don’t play around with tech. I create. I improve. I succeed, Midoriya.”

           “Sorry, sorry…” He chuckles, rubbing his head, “That’s not… what I’m trying to ask is – this is an invention of yours, yes? Is there anything it does besides taking pictures?” Izuku thinks, trying to string together a more thoughtful question then ‘will it blow up?’ “Are there any tactical advantages to the camera?”

           “Of course!” She says, roughly snatching the camera. Izuku flinches, then sighs in relief seeing how it stayed silent despite her brusque movements. “It’s something I’m working on for a class assignment. They want us to create gear that can help heroes proactively take down villains, to keep casualties and damage to a minimum!”

           “And your idea was… a camera?”

           “It’s not just a camera,” she scoffs, holding it up and quickly snapping a picture of Izuku. He blinks, blinded by the flashing light. As he rubs his eyes, he hears the mechanical whirr of a photo being produced. “It uses the latest retinal technology combined with my own, copyrighted, software to capture not just a person’s face… but also what they were thinking of at the moment the photo was taken!” She waves the photo, Izuku’s face becoming clearer and clearer as time passes. “They say the eye is the window to a person’s soul, yes? Well now that really is the case!?” She laughs with shameless glee, drawing other students’ attention towards them in the sort-of-crowded cafeteria. Izuku’s face glows a deep red, especially when he catches sight of his photo.

           It’s his face, but there’s a marked difference between what he expected and what he sees. Instead of green eyes, Izuku finds two bomb-like pupils have replaced his irises, their fuses short and lit. This makes sense, as he thinks about it. Between the seconds her forefinger pressed on the shutter, Izuku’s only thoughts were ‘don’t explode’, chanted repeatedly.

           Mei studies the picture, snorting. “And this is why I want you to have it.”

           “Me?”

           “Every time I take someone’s picture,” she says, handing him the camera again, “they only show bombs!” She produces an immeasurable number of headshots from her pocket, each person’s eyes like Izuku’s. “I keep telling them that it’s not that kind of equipment, but they don’t trust me. I mean, I get it, but how am I supposed to score the highest marks if my experiments keep producing the same result! How can I learn from the data when it’s all the same!”

           Izuku understands her plight, reminded of similar struggles. It’s been forever since he was reminded of his first few days, where no one wanted to spar with him, afraid they might hurt him or encourage Izuku towards injury by using his quirk. Luckily that didn’t last long. If he failed at convincing his classmates at that time, Izuku doubts he would be where he is now. The only way to grow is through constant trial and error, whether human or machine.

           “Okay,” he says, “I’ll help.”

           Mei claps, thanking him while she speeds off and out of the cafeteria. Izuku watches her along with the remaining students, beads of sweat staining his forehead. His gaze trails from Mei’s exit to the camera in his hands. He studies it more closely than earlier, since he’s certain it won’t combust. Izuki then fiddles with the camera, shaking it, and accidentally takes a selfie that nearly blinds his left eye.

           He rubs that blurry eye while the camera prints the next photo, Izuku grabbing it immediately. Waving it around, Izuku uses his right eye to see what his left might express. Mei would be happy if she had stayed, since there’s a small camera that sits in the middle of his iris, and not a bomb. Izuku tucks the photo into his backpack, alongside the camera as he stands. There’s barely anyone in the cafeteria, the stragglers leaving him behind, meaning Izuku has a few minutes to get to class. He races to Aizawa’s room.

           The camera remains hidden for the rest of the day. Izuku dare not show the others yet, waiting for a perfect moment he can snag the most amount of people.

           Today’s weather helps, rain clouds hanging overhead herded all students indoors. After their final class, Izuku and his friends sped down the path to their dorms in a frenzy. All rushing to beat the rain that would inevitably fall.

           Thunder rumbles, announcing what will come. Izuku jumps over the threshold exactly when the first drop hits.

           “Well,” Mina pouts, leaning on a nearby wall, slipping off her shoes, “I guess we’re stuck here for the day.” Everyone nods in agreement, going about their usual ritual, trading in shoes for slippers. They begin moving deeper into the dorms, rumbling with plans for how to spend this rainy day.

           Izuku hurries to the front of the group, bag tight in his arms. “Actually,” he says, loudly enough he interrupts his friends’ conversations, “since we’re all here, I was wondering if you could help me with something – well… help me help Mei with something –“

           “Mei Hatsune?” Iida asks, a sickly pale sheen blanketing his features, “No – no, whatever it is – no.”

           “Iida,” Izuku sighs, “You haven’t even heard what it is I have to say!”

           “I don’t need to!” And, from how the rest of his friends appear similarly distressed, they don’t either.

           He works fast, removing the camera and showing it to them. “It’s nothing too crazy, or dangerous!” he tells them, “She needs pictures of people for a school project.”

           “That sounds… almost normal,” Mina says, stepping to the front of the group, joining Izuki. She snatches the camera from his hands, frowning at Mei’s camera. “Too normal for a support class project.”

           “Well, there’s more to it than that,” he explains, leaning in close and tapping at the lens. “She modified the camera, so that it takes pictures of what a person’s thinking.” He shows them his picture, with the camera reflected in his iris. “I was thinking about the camera when I hit the capture button, and that’s why it’s in my eye!”

           “So, the thoughts are shown in the eyes?” Mina asks. Izuku nods. “Cool…”

           Iida clears his throat, drawing the focus back to him. “If that’s all the camera does,” he starts, tone frigid enough Izuku shivers because of it, “why does Mei need you taking the pictures?”

           “Oh she… doesn’t have enough time,” Izuku laughs, lying, rubbing the back of his neck. He feels slightly bad, but reasons that if he told them of Mei’s problem, it might make some of the others experience similar issues. “I offered to help because, well – it has been a bit of a lull, hasn’t it?”

           “It has,” Mina agrees, looking through the viewfinder at her classmates, “And this is the perfect thing to spice things up!” She crouches low, at eye level with Mineta. “Say cheese!”

           “What -”?

           She slams her forefinger on the shutter, a loud click washing over the group. Mina impatiently pulls the photo free, waving it around with one hand while the other bars Mineta from advancing. His protests are ignored, Mina waiting for the picture to develop. Once it does, her concentration slips. She laughs, Mineta overpowering his limp arm and dashing past her towards the kitchen, overshooting them. “It works!” she announces, showing the others her photo of the smaller hero.

           Izuku steps into view, turning away from the photo in his next breath, cheeks red with shame.

           Mineta awkwardly smiles, a friendly thumb raised and peeking above the border. His eyes, however, were obscured by two pairs of large breasts. Izuku stared at one set, nipples pointed directly forward, and lost his nerve. He wasn’t alone, Iida and Momo equally uncomfortable. The others visibly appear awkward, yet don’t look from Mineta’s face.

           Tsuyu is the only student unfazed. Her head skews to the left as she squints for a better look. “The quality of the photo, kero, it’s amazing. They look almost lifelike.”

           “I think that’s enough,” Uraraka rushes forward, taking the photo of Mineta from Mina. She throws it upwards, steepling her fingers so it will float to the ceiling and stay there. “Why don’t we see what everyone else is thinking?”

           “Can we wait a few minutes?” Denki laughs, “At least let us burn that image out of our minds.” Everyone joins save Mineta, who flexes his hands on the bumps atop his head, gaze locked on the floating photo. Izuku drags him away from it, following everyone to the kitchen where they can prepare dinner and play with the camera. He makes a note to retrieve the photo later, and to draft an apology for Mei.

           When everyone feels ready, they continue using the camera.

           Izuku will admit, he wasn’t sure if he might succeed in helping Mei. His friends, dependable as always, proved Izuku’s doubts were misguided. Even Iida allowed a few pictures of himself, profiles of his brother or Aizawa swimming in his eyes. “We have that test coming up,” he growls, jabbing at their teacher’s face, “It’s a big one, I want to do well!”

           “You will do well, like always…” Kyoka holds the camera, glancing around the room for the next victim. There’s already a steady pile in the center of the table they commandeered, and a few more pictures floating above them. Mineta thought of little else, apparently. She nudges Denki, who sits beside her, “I’ve got an idea…” She whispers to him, an evil glint shining in her gaze.

           Denki timidly agrees, hesitance a striking feature on his face like the black bolt zigging through his blond hair. He stands, moving a safe distance from everyone else. Izuku watches like the rest of their group, perplexed, until a tiny spark erupts from his palms that soon becomes a storm much like what rages outside their dorm walls. Izuku glances at Kyoka’s excited and expectant face; he understands.

           Kyoka hits the shutter, then bowls over from laughter with how Denki dances in place. Izuku grabs the camera from her, helping develop the photo by shaking it. When it finally bleeds onto the small rectangle, Izuku breathes a laugh out his nose. There’s nothing replacing Denki’s eyes save static common on broken television sets. “Weirdly enough,” Shoto says, stationed behind Izuku at one shoulder, Tsuyu next to him, “I think that’s what he looks like without a camera, too.”

           They take a few more photos, learning a bit more as they go. Izuku brought his notebook out and took notes halfway into their trials, keeping track of observations to give to Mei. Like how the thoughts importance can affect size, proven with how Kyoka’s whole face was eclipsed by her guitar, and – when asked about her grades – two, tiny ‘F’s floated in Mina’s. There were also bugs the class managed to find, one being that the camera couldn’t pick up on invisible people. Toru, unfortunately, was excluded by the nature of her quirk. They tried including her, asking her to think of her face. Momo theorized that, since Toru can see what she looks like, if she thinks about that then everyone can see what she sees. The camera didn’t recognize Toru and failed to capture her thoughts. It did create thoughts for objects with face-like shapes. An accidental click by Shoto caught part of the stove, and because of the dials, the camera treated it like a face and ascribed two cacti-like stickers on them.

           “Who knew science could be so fun!” Denki cheers, showing off the latest photo to the group. Eijiro grins proudly, Crimson Riot’s manly figure posing in his eyes. He was surrounded by stars, another feature they discovered during the process. The camera adds symbols to better express thoughts, giving context to them.

           “I’m glad you feel this way,” Iida says, clapping him on the back, “Maybe you can take this energy and apply it elsewhere in your studies!”

           “…They’re not as fun.”

           Their group starts laughing, except it’s cut short by a slamming door. Everyone’s heads whirl towards the source of the noise. Izuku hears a low, growling string of curses that get louder with each stomp. It’s no surprise when Katsuki rounds the corner, especially since he’s the only one of their class who hadn’t been with them.

           He should have, judging by the damp state of his clothes.

           “Bakugo, woah,” Eijiro jumps up from his seat, “what happened?”

           “Stupid umbrella broke on my way back from the gym,” Katsuki yelled, throwing his smoldering umbrella across the room. “Cheap things… don’t know why my mom insists on buying these if they keep breaking all the time.” He glares at them, dripping onto the floors. “What are you losers doing?”

           “Well, we were –“

           “Forget it, I don’t care.” Katsuki brushes past them, a trail of water left in his wake. He enters the kitchen, still in view, but completely ignoring them as he roots through the fridge.

           “If you don’t care, why ask?” Uraraka mutters, sinking into her seat. She and most of the others return to their own worlds, treating Katsuki with the respect he showed them. A few differ, namely Izuku, Mina, and Eijiro. They continue watching Katsuki move about the kitchen.

           Mina holds the camera now, stroking the shutter button. “He’s obviously interested,” she says, “otherwise why would he ask?”

           Eijiro sighs, scratching at his temple. “Who knows? A lot of what he does, doesn’t make sense half the time. You should know that by now.”

           “If only we knew what he was thinking…” The camera rises instinctively.

           Izuku offers a weak chuckle, forcing the camera down with his hand. “Good luck with that. Kacchan will break the camera before you can even take the photo.”

           “Then I won’t do it,” she huffs, handing the camera off to Eijiro. “Kirishima here will.”

           “Me?”

           “Yeah, you,” Mina says, “Who else besides you would Dyna-meathead even allow in his personal space long enough to snap it?” Izuku agrees with her, absentmindedly nodding along with her rebuttal. “It’ll be easy. Go up to him, ask for a photo, then take it and bring it back here.”

           “But…” Eijiro looks from her to Izuku, “but… what if he breaks the camera?”

           Izuku shrugs, “I think it’s safe to say we have enough photos for Mei to use in her project, even if Kacchan ends up breaking it. Besides, that’s a sort of prototype, she’s looking to make a digital one – and I doubt Mei would send me off with that if she didn’t have copies of what was important.”

           That, and an encouraging smile that would rival All-Might’s, give Eijiro the courage to try. He winks at both him and Mina, scurrying around the counter that divides the dining area from the kitchen and into Katsuki’s bubble of personal space. Katsuki doesn’t flinch, chewing on a protein bar while Eijiro asks him a question. Katsuki yells at Eijiro, calls him an idiot, but doesn’t deny his request. Eijiro beams, holding the camera up and takes the photo. Thanking him, Eijiro returns to the group with both the camera and developing photo.

           “Give me! Give me!” Mina wrangles the photo free from Eijiro’s fingers, bouncing in her seat from the anticipation. The others show muted interest, curiosity piqued once Eijiro succeeded.

           “Damn, it’s just a fucking photo you rejects…” Katsuki joins them, leaning on the counter a fair distance away, “If you get all happy over that then I’m scared for what the future of heroes is gonna look like.”

           “It’s not a simple photo, Bakugo,” Iida tells him, finger raised as if he were giving a lecture, “it’s a special one from a camera modified by a support student. Apparently, it can take pictures of what people are thinking about.”

           “What –“! Katsuki chokes on his protein bar, hacking and disappearing behind the counter. Izuku startles, concerned, about to check on him. Suddenly Mina screams at his side, and Izuku’s attention is diverted.

           “I can’t believe it!” Mina cackles, “Ah! AH! Bakugo, Bakugo… you try and act so tough but you’re just a softy on the inside, aren’t you!”

           Izuku can’t see the photo with how wildly Mina flails, and he is the only one. Everyone else had their own chance to look at the photo, all varying degrees of shock rippling across their faces. Eijiro appears the most affected, shoulders shaking, a hand clutched tight over his heart as he wobbles on his feet. He might faint on the spot but couldn’t look happier about it. Soon Mina calms enough for Izuku to grab the photo from Mina. He sees what’s on it and is struck into the same stupor.

           He cannot see Katsuki’s eyes. They’ve been smothered by two gigantic hearts, cartoonish in their design with how they sparkle and glow. Worse, for Katsuki at least, two faces were nestled at the center of these hearts. On the right eye, Eijiro’s teeth are on full display with a large smile. On Katsuki’s left, Eijiro winks.

           Mina knocks her chair to the floor in her haste, uncaring how it topples. She dances, singing, “Bakugo likes Kiri… Bakugo likes Kiri…” After circling the table, she throws herself onto Izuku’s back, “Midoriya, remind me to thank Mei for giving you that camera!”

           “Mina, I –“

           “Fucking… Deku…”

           Time slows. Izuku inches his head to where he heard what sounded like gravel being dragged against asphalt, and where he feels sparks dust his cheeks. Katsuki recovered at some point, protein bar forgotten in embarrassment and anger. These emotions, needing an outlet, latched onto Mina painting the target on Izuku’s chest. He launched himself over the counter towards him like a lion would its prey. And only in the infinitesimal moment before certain death could Izuku notice his utter doom. He certainly can’t react or defend himself. Izuku, with his brief reprieve that grows shorter and shorter, can only muster a single thought.

           It’s hard to describe. But if someone were to take a photo of his face, with Mei’s camera, they’d see a skull in both his eyes.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #hatsune mei #ashido mina #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #class 1-a shenanigans #bnha fanfic #kiribaku #kiribaku fanfic

[artistrashofmine]

I got around to finishing that one KamiBaku smut piece from weeks ago, so here it is! 

Pairing: Kaminari/Bakugou W/C: 3131 Rating: Explicit Link: AO3

Kaminari Denki could admit it, he was a bit of a pervert. At least he had the decency to admit it, and it wasn’t something that took up the forefront of his brain like Mineta, no, it was more like, he wouldn’t hesitate to admire, from afar, when it came to a nice figure or a pair of pretty eyes. And who would've thought the subject of his recent admiration was the one known as Bakugou Katsuki, the scary hot-head of 1-A.

How was he supposed to know that the blond was shirtless when knocking on his door. He simply wanted to return the notes he totally didn’t steal from Kirishima who had practically begged Bakugou to give them to him. Denki swore the blond was rubbing off on his hyperactive friend, for when the redhead found out he decided it fit to deem death upon the golden-haired student via returning the stolen notes to their owner. Hence the current situation.

“The hell you doing here?” The blond was quickly becoming less attractive the angrier he got… actually no, he was still hot, hot and angry. He guessed quirks really did say something about their users, hot and angry Explodo-Kills.

Denki didn’t know it was possible for a boy to have such a small waist and compared to his practically sculpted chest, that was saying something. He gave little thought to the attractiveness of males until now. Sure, there were some you couldn’t just ignore, but how the hell did he miss this gem?! Did Bakugou not change in the changing room with them?

“Oi, your fucking brain fried or something?!” Yeah, scary and attractive in all his shirtless, pent up anger… heh maybe it wasn’t just anger he got pent up, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?

Denki yelped as he dodged a hand that swung out to hit him, “chill! I just came to return some notes.”

He held the messy pile out for the other to take, “the fuck you got these for?”

“Kirishima gave them to me.” He failed to mention the part where he saw them laying on the kitchen counter and decided to borrow them for a few minutes in the hope to find the answers to tomorrow’s homework.

“Idiots,” Bakugou stated, grabbing the paper from his hands, ready to shut the door in his face.

“Wait, could it kill you to be a little nicer Kacchan?” He pouted, throwing a foot between the door, preventing it from getting slammed shut.

“Don’t call me that asshat!” The firecracker raged, hissing like a cat.

“Oh yeah, what would you prefer, Katsu~” Maybe he had a death wish but teasing him was well worth it with the pink hue that arose to his face.

“Say it normally!” He held up a fist threateningly.

“Do you even know my name, Katsu-ki?”

The blond sneered, “we’re not on first name bases asshole! And why the hell would I bother to remember some extra’s name?”

“Owch Kacchan… I can make you remember it?” He quirked an eyebrow subjectively pairing it with a wink, and for a full minute the other didn’t move a muscle, his face morphed into shock.

Denki thought he did it this time; the blond was going to kill him, he was dead meat, goodbye cruel world. He jumped back when the other’s jaw snapped shut, he expected some explosions, yelling, death. Instead, red flushed across the other’s skin, his eyes looking anywhere but at Kaminari, sparks exploding from his palms.

That’s when it clicked and suddenly everything made sense, “oh my god, you-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” the blond hissed, gritting his teeth, “whatever the fuck’s going through your head, you’re fucking wrong.”

Oh, Denki highly doubted that, “you know I have a few stress relief tactics, I can show them to you.”

“Fuck off!” He snickered at the distorted expression on the other’s face.

“Come on Katsu~ I can give you a hand.” He pushed the teasing, letting his yellow eyes wrack over the naked chest.

And Bakugou hesitated, “...whatever.”

Denki’s eyes snapped to his face, did he hear that right? Whatever ? That was as much of a yes you could ever draw from the blond, he must have heard wrong.

“ Whatever did you mean about that?” He took a step forward, into the dorm room, the owner of said room refused to budge, his stubbornness only earning an uncomfortable closeness between the pair.

He didn’t think the hot-heads face could get any redder, hell, he didn’t think the blond had the ability to blush in the first place, not that he was complaining.

Bakugou spluttered, “Fucking hell, get out.”

“Ahah, no way! Nice try, but I’m not letting that go!” Denki kicked the door behind him shut, leaning in closer, “what’s the matter Katsu, are you embarrassed because you’re-”

“Fuck off!” The other shuffled back, only provoking the blond to move in closer to the point where he could feel Katsuki’s breath on his cheek.

“-a virgin,” he finished, ignoring the other’s protest.

“The Bakugou Katsuki-” he inched forward, daring to lift his hand so that it swept across his unclothed skin to rest on his small midsection, “-a virgin. Do you even jerk it?”

The other choked, sparks popping in his hands as Kaminari continued, “with that quirk, I bet not, or not often. That’s why you're so short-tempered, huh? Who would have thought!”

“Not everyone’s so fucking horny that they need to jerk off every fucking day.” He defended through clenched teeth.

“So how often do you?” His lips were centimetres apart from the blonds.

“What is this, twenty questions? A fucking interview? You’re such a pain in the mmfp-” Bakugou’s lips were surprisingly soft, smooth and docile, they mingled with Kaminari’s, fit perfectly together.

The hot-head wasn’t a good kisser. Actually, Denki doubted he was trying or knew how to, rather he simply allowed his lips to follow the electrical-users own. And all the darker blond could think was, this is Bakugou . It was Bakugou who was following his lead, making out with him.

“This is your first kiss?” He teased, parting to come to the picture of a dark blush and swollen lips, his eyebrows knitted together per usual, only instead of the signature scowl he was a pout.

If Denki was being honest, it was a cute sight to behold and one of a kind.

“So?” his voice rumbled, “you should be happy if you were a bad kisser, which you probably fucking are, I wouldn’t know.”

Denki broke out in a grin, “oh I’m happy, you know how hot that is? I took your first kiss!”

“Hahh? If that’s all-” Kaminari grabbed the hand that came swiping at him, taking hold of it by the wrist.

“If you want more all you have to do is ask.” He backed the spiky-haired teen towards the bed, taking ahold of the other wrist while he was at it, restraining them above his head.

“Fuck,” the back of the blond’s knees hit the mattress, causing him to fall back, “fucking fine.”

“Fine?” the golden blond repeated, “is-”

“Get on with it!” Bakugou interrupted, blurting the words out at the other who stood above him.

“If you say so,” Denki leaned his to retake Katsuki’s lips, biting into the lower one, sweeping a palm along the hothead’s cheek to guide him.

Soon they found themselves reclining onto the bed, the blond’s head hitting his sheets in the electricity-users attempts to push them closer, his tongue pushing past the plump lips to explore the inexperienced mouth. Katsuki lay slack in his grasp, jaw falling open to allow the invasion, a small grunt emitting from the back of his throat. He couldn’t help it, not with the hands that roamed his body, that groped his chest, as if they were a female’s.

“Shit Bakugou,” the yellow-eyed teen backed off to once again look over his prey, “your body’s so lewd.”

An unrecognizable sound escaped from his mouth at the comment, or maybe it was because of the thumb flicked at his nipples.

“ Fuck ,” Kaminari rolled the hardened nub between his finger and thumb, the blond hissing out a “don’t do that!”

Denki only hummed, lowered his head to kiss his peck, taking the other nipple into his mouth, licking over it, sucking on the swollen skin.

“Hahh,” Katsuki arched his back, hands setting sparks off into his sheets.

“God you’re sensitive,” He parted, squeezing the pair together, “I think you have the best tits in the class, Kacchan.”

“Don’t say shit like that, their not-” he hissed, once again cut off, “ fuck . Stop squeezing them like that .”

Though the erection in his pants betrayed the blond’s words, so did hands that came to map out Kaminiari’s upper body, holding onto his back as if it were a lifeline. Denki was forced to pull him up as he backed away.

“I’m taking our pants off.” He concluded, undoing his own belt, throwing it out of the way and working off his pants and boxers.

“How many times do I have to tell you to just fucking…” Katsuki trailed off.

Denki raised an eyebrow, “just fucking?”

“Jesus how…” He mumbled in return, a quiet curse escaping, “fuck me.”

“That’s the plan.” the electric quirk user wore an amused expression, watching Bakugou’s eyes as they flickered back up to his face.

“That’s not going to fucking fit.”

“That's why I’m going to stretch you Katsu,” He tugged undid the blond’s jeans, “you don’t happen to have any lube, do you?”

“Why the hell would I have lube?”

“I didn’t think so,” he tossed both their remaining clothing off the bed, pulling Bakugou legs apart, placing one on his shoulder, causing his body to fall back onto the sheets.

“What the hell are you doing?” The blond bit his lip.

“Getting you wet.” With that, Denki lowered his head to lick a strip along the other’s entrance, earning a surprised yelp, though it didn’t deter the other who continued to lap at Katsuki’s hole.

The tip of the tongue tracing the blond’s puckering rim before pushing past the tight muscle, slipping into him. Katsuki let out a loud gasp, his body unconscious pushing up against the intrusion, asking for more. The golden-blond hummed, placing a hand on the other’s thigh in attempts to stop his squirming. Katsuki’s other leg hooked its self around his neck, ensuring that Denki stayed in place. Kaminari’s moved his free hand to join his head between the explosion-users thighs, retracting his tongue to fit a finger in his entrance, nipping at the rim with his teeth on the way back, earning a hiss. The digit sunk in with little difficulty, the plush muscle opening or him.

“Uuhh.” God, Bakugou sounded fucked already and they’ve barely gotten started, his leg twitching as he wiggled the finger, pushing it to the hilt along with the saliva that gathered outside, repeating the movement a few more times.

He’d need more for the next finger, withdrawing his hand with a small grunt of complaint about his partner, Denki took the digits in his mouth, wettening them.

“How do you taste so good Katsuki?” He pondered between the appendages, “it’s 'cause of your quirk, right?”

“Don’t say things like that Dunce Face! F-fucking gross!” The blond’s attempt to defend his integrity was cute but useless.

He wasn’t fooling anyone, hard cock on display, leaking against his stomach, legs practically trapping Kaminari between them so desperate for him to continue. And the blond had no problem doing so, returning the two fingers to where they belonged, one at a time, sinking into the pliant hole. Fucik did the hole eat them up, Bakugou was born to be a bottom, he could hardly believe the hothead when he said he was a virgin. Those lustful groans and lewd curses were anything but pure.

Denki couldn’t help but release the blond’s thigh to bring his hand down to stroke his own cock, watching the other’s blissed-out face as he twisted the digits, fucking the greedy opening with them.

“Here,” he pulled them out once again, “you can taste for yourself.”

“ What ?” The other panted, eyebrows knitted together, Kaminari bringing his hand up to hover over the blond’s mouth.

And to his surprise, with a slight moment of hesitation, Katsuki leaned forward, taking three digits into his mouth, tongue swirling around them, a deep hum emitting from him. His fiery red eyes answering to the challenge. He took the fingers to the back of his throat, and Kaminari could only picture that as his dick, making the blond gag on it. He had to remove the hand from his erection before he bust a nut. He had to pull Katsuki’s thighs open again, this time pushing all three fingers in at once.

“Ahh,” The other’s back bowed as they entered, if the stretch caused any discomfort, it didn’t show, maybe he liked it rough, after all, they only lubricant they were using was saliva, and that’s wasn’t exactly ideal.

Denki licked his lips, curling the fingers and shiting them around a few times before, “SHIT.”

There it was, the spot that’d have Katsuki screaming his name in seconds if he wanted. He brushed it a few times as he stretched the blond, actively avoiding hitting it straight on, causing the hothead to push back in messy attempts to hit the spot.

“Come on just fuck me already would you?!” He demanded, finally losing patience, and Denki wasn’t in the right mindset to argue, far from it.

The hand was removed for good, The golden-blond leaning back to rub the head of his cock on the flushed entrance, catching on the rim. He spit in his hand, rubbing the saliva along the length, “ready Katsuki?”

The lustful, red-eyes met his own, “hell yes.”

That’s all he needed, Denki pushed in, groaning as his cock entered the wet heat and tight walls that practically swallowed around him. Halfway sheathed he rested, breathing deeply, watching the blond do the same, squirming and getting used to the bulk of his member. Kaminari couldn’t help but to lean down and take the swollen pink lips against his own, beginning an idle makeout session with the other, hand coming up to rest against his small waste, squeezing it, gaging its petite size.

He parted, “god, you’re going to be so full of me by the end of the night.”

Katsuki quirked an eyebrow gravelly voice giving an affirmative, “better get to it then.”

So Denki’s other hand wrapped around the other side of his small waist and he pushed farther in, pulling the blond along with him until they were bottomed out. He let out another groan at the site before starting off on a slow pace. His dick dragging against Katsuki’s walls, ensuring that he felt every single movement, and with the way the hothead twitched and tighten around him, Denki didn’t think he intended to miss anything, as if he were trying to create a mould of Kaminari’s cock.

He pulled back until the tip threatened to exit before giving a hard, experimental thrust to the hilt. A yelp escaped from Katsuki, his thighs squeezing the golden-blond, so he gave another hard thrust.

This time drawing out a long, “yeees.”

The pace quickened, hard and fast, skin slapping again skin. Bakugou’s quirk setting off in the blankets.  He pulled the blond’s lower body up higher, angling himself, and...

“ FUCK .” Katsuki couldn’t help but scream out, Kaminari’s cock pounding into the bundle of nerves, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“You’re going to have to be quieter, Katsuki.” The other managed, fingers digging into the blond’s hips, “else the rest of the class will hear us. Unless you’d like that to happen~.”

In return the hot-head only bit his lip, though it did little use for seconds later his mouth was hanging back open, lewd sounds escaping from it. And he didn’t dare cover it with his hands that set off inconsistent sparks in the sheets.

“K-Kaminari!” Was the next broken yelp.

“So you do know my name?” He panted, eyes lidded as he looked down at the shaking body, “I won’t let you forget it Katsuki.”

“Denki, Denki…” he tried, “s-shut up… shit... Denki.”

The yellow-eyed hero in training groaned at the sound of his name falling from Bakugou’s lips, he was close. They both were from the looks of it. He quicked his pace, fingers digging in hard enough to break the skin.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He didn’t know if the encouragement was coming from him or the other but it seemed to work, Kaminari shuttering to a halt, cock deep in the blond as he came. His hand releasing the hip to messily jerk his partner to completion. A mewl coming falling from Katsuki as he came, release running over Denki’s fist. He jerked him through it stopping when the blond let out a hiss of discomfort. Only then did he remove himself from the pliant body, falling to the side. Discreetly wiping his hand off on the bedsheets as he caught his breath, Katsuki taking time to do so as well.

“Hey, Bakugou?” The yellow-haired student didn’t move his eyes from the ceiling.

“What?” Came the grumpy, muffled voice from beside him.

And despite his fears, Denki couldn’t help but look over at him. The male had turned over to lay on his stomach, the mess of pale-blond locks upon his head looking worse than ever before. Half his face was smothered in a pillow, the other half stared right back at him.

Denki’s breath hitched, there wasn’t a crease in sight. His face wasn’t wound up in an angry expression. He looked cute, like a curious cat.

“You know…” the yellow-eyed student started, “it’s usually common sense to go on a date first.”

The other’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “what are you getting at?”

The scratchy voice sent a shiver up his back, likely sore from his earlier vocals. And Kaminari could only imagine how sore his body will be tomorrow, if not tonight.  

“We should get dinner.” The golden-blond finally offered.

Bakugou took a minute to think it over, “I’ll cook. Oi what the fuck?!”

Denki grinned, draping himself over the other, snuggling up close, ignoring the grumbling from Bakugou as they settled.

Damn, if this was what it took to finally taste the famous Bakugou cooking, he’d be far from opposed to doing it again.

He had half a mind to tell the blond so, only to be threatened by death, but what did he expect? Not the round of sex to follow.

And if getting Katsuki riled up wasn’t his favourite past time before, it was now.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha pwp #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #bottom bakugou #Kaminari Denki #kamibaku #kaminari x bakugou #fanfic

[mable-stitchpunk]

Hey Luis,

Look I don’t want to get involved with whatever’s going on between you two, but something’s up with Ness. I think we’ve all seen the signs for a while, but its finally got to the point where I can’t just stand here and pretend nothing’s up.

Let’s start with the whole shipping thing. She keeps getting stuff shipped to the office. I get it, you can’t get your stuff mailed to you when you don’t have a mailbox or P.O. box or whatever, but she’s getting more and more stuff. Now Dallas is bringing her stuff. Dallas, the guy who delivers party supplies. He’s bringing her huge boxes of stuff and I’m starting to wonder how she’s affording all this. I tried to ask her about it but she’s always just like, “Yeah, got money squared away, yada yada yada.” Somebody needs to look into this.

Then there was the Halloween Party. I don’t know if you were there. Frankly, I don’t remember much from the Halloween Party, so there’s that. What I do remember was that she acted totally nuts. I don’t know if she was drinking of what, but one minute she’s doing her whole keep to herself thing, then she’s bouncing off the walls, then she locks herself in a closet and cries. Loudly. Like everyone knew she was doing it, she was wailing in there. There was booze going around, we all know this- company policy be damned. I’m not going to fault her for not being able to hold her liquor- Ness doesn’t strike me as a drinker, but I don’t think she was drinking. Again, somebody needs to look into this.

But I kept my mouth shut for months. I had Bree telling me to just let it go and that I was overreacting. I believed her... And now, today happened. God, I wish I got this disaster on tape because you could not believe the -show that went on.

So, because Cheryl was out with the flu on her birthday, we all throw her a late surprise party. Not even a party- cake and paper plates. Someone decided it would be genius to bring in a homemade ice cream cake with the ugliest picture of Freddy drawn on with icing. It was pretty bad, but Cheryl thinks it’s cute and funny, and everyone’s happy.

Everyone except Ness. Ness starts acting really weird. She stood in the corner the entire time and stared at this cake like just the sight of it offended her. But not like a reasonable, “That thing is ugly,” or a, “You ruined my birthday with that cake” thing. Just this anger that you wouldn’t expect from a girl like Ness.

Finally, Aiden notices something is up and goes over to ask what’s wrong in a quiet sort of way, and Ness just explodes. She starts yelling about how fine she is and about how stupid it is to celebrate birthdays. Just ranting and acting childish until she decides to take it up a notch and goes off about the missing children hoax. She yelled, and I quote, “I wonder if all those dead kiddies got Freddy cakes on their birthday.” Then flashed us what had to be the most uncomfortable smile I’ve ever had to sit through. If that was supposed to be a joke, oh my God.

Then she tears out of the room and I think left the building. Which was a great call, because I don’t think anyone would’ve opted for her to stay after that. It pretty much ruined the party. How do you go back to eating cake when someone just started ranting about dead kids and dead employees and Freddy’s hiding bodies and all that stuff?

This is where I draw the line. Everything else I could explain away, but not this. Ness has serious issues and I’m not just saying this to be a jerk. I’m saying this because I’m concerned. I’ve had mental health issues pop up in my family and I know the signs. Ness is at the right age where things might be showing up. That’s why I’m telling you, because, and I repeat, SOMEBODY NEEDS TO LOOK INTO THIS. And since you’re the one whose sweet on her and you’re the one covering her ass, you’re going to have to do it.

Ness needs help and if someone doesn’t reach out to her soon I’m afraid she’s going to do something drastic.

-Dan

P.S. There’s something scratching around in the vents above the kitchen. Here’s hoping it’s rats.

#Security Breach? #GHIAB #Going Home in a Box #Ness #Luis #Dan #Vanny