#it's funnier than it should be because that teacher would fit right in to this show for that and additional reasons I won't state here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halothenthehorns · 3 years

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TLTNL- SILVER AND OPALS

James took the book from Lily with a happy enough air. He was mostly hoping the first Quidditch game would come up soon, considering tryouts were already past and they needed to see the team in action of course.

Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing?

"Thoughts I really don't think of too often, unlike Moony," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You make me sound like a panting teenager," Remus grumbled. "Of course I wonder all the time where the leader of the Order is."

"Your ears really have been saved Harry," Sirius continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Used to come up at least once a meal what that man could be up to, and that's nothing compared to school."

"I take it back," James agreed. "We might not have ever noticed if he was missing from the staff table, but Remus would have flipped the castle inside out if he was missing for more than a day."

Remus' scowl increased upon both of his friends. Their jesting was in good nature, but it still rankled him they weren't wrong. It simply angered him more than anything how blind he'd been until days ago, how he'd refused to see any side of Dumbledore except his white beard until he had it shoved in his face he could be missing something.

His friends obviously knew that had been shaken. They just weren't sure what to make of that themselves. It should have been...a relief? That wasn't the right word either, because it was too sad how down he was now with no one to look up to in that same sense.

When James realized Moony wasn't going to react in any sense of the word he decided to keep going instead, deciding he'd been through more than enough today already, no need to push it.

Harry caught sight of the headmaster only twice over the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and Harry was sure Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving Harry?

"I entirely doubt that," Lily sighed. "Though what else he is busy doing is beyond me."

Harry nodded his agreement, trying not to pretend he hadn't been panicking just slightly at the thought of being forgotten, left alone, again.

Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; Harry had felt bolstered, comforted, and now he felt slightly abandoned.

He wanted to laugh at his own thoughts, but his teeth were still rather gritted. He didn't want to see the expressions on those around him, either pity, remorse, or anything else for something of his past that just could not be changed no matter how much he'd wish for it, so was more than relieved when James continued without too much of a hitch in his throat.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Harry had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school,

"Nah, never seen the school get that bad," Sirius rolled his eyes at the thought. "The teachers are well aware we'd burn the place to the ground ourselves if they didn't let the students get some air."

"And that was the normal students, considering this lot went about it without permission," Lily snorted.

but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way.

Lily started snickering away again at once, and Harry looked at her in exasperation, still wanting to demand just what was so funny he was missing? It certainly wasn't the same reaction from the Marauders, who looked more dumbfounded than anything this was how Harry chose to spend his time. Even if he'd chosen to pursue homework they'd have thought nothing of it, but independent study!

"You lot can't even really mock him," Remus pleasantly interpreted the almost constipated look on James and Sirius, "because I caught you lot doing the same thing with Transfiguration books so often I honestly thought you had split personalities."

"Yes, well, we had a pretty damn good reason," James huffed.

"So does Harry, he's catching up on five years worth of Potions that useless teacher couldn't have taught him," Sirius insisted, deciding to defend this for now, though no one in here was accusing him of anything.

Lily started laughing harder than ever, and James quickly kept going then, to Harry's relief.

Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princes copy of Advanced Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that was earning him such a glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Harry whistled in surprise. "Hard to imagine a student inventing spells."

"I wouldn't be that surprised, we tend to experiment quite a bit in our years, far more than when we age and do things out of habit," Remus shrugged.

Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch); and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class with out being overheard.

The first two weren't of much consequence, they were used regularly in all their years at school amongst the students and it was more likely this Prince had simply copied a spell he intended to practice. That last one however did catch them off guard, they'd never heard of that exact spell.

"That's really interesting, sort of like honing an Imperturbable Charm, except instead of directly forcing anything not to be around you, you're merely distracting them instead," James eyes were alight at once with the possibility of this.

"Glory I want to meet whoever got a nail on that spell," Sirius agreed enthusiastically, causing James' face to settle back into drawn confusion for that and Lily to start snickering harder than ever.

The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione,

"No surprise there," Remus rolled his eyes at this continuing to be mentioned.

who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in the vicinity.

Sitting up in bed, Harry turned the book sideways so as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have caused the Prince some trouble. There were many crossings-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

Levicorpus (nvbl)

Harry watched wearily as those around him frowned at the mention of that spell, one they hadn't used in quite some time. Before he even had a chance to ask, James gave a blustering sigh but explained, "you already saw that one in action, courtesy of me."

Harry's eyes flipped wide in surprise as he demanded, "you invented that spell?"

James frowned in confusion at Harry's leap. "Nah, did a Transfiguration paper for a sixth year Slytherin, he taught me this in exchange." He waited and watched Harry flip through the spells he'd seen his father use, only one of which was silent in the one time he'd 'seen' his father perform magic.

"Oh," was all he could think to mutter before waving him on. He still felt like there was some connection he was missing in this, even if he had latched onto the right memory for once for an answer.

While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows, and Neville snored loudly, Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl., that had to mean "nonverbal." Harry rather doubted he would be able to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far.

Lily had to fight very, very hard this time not to fall off the furniture in a fit of laughter, she knew that would be just too much of a giveaway. Thankfully she'd been in such a spirited mood for so long now, the others were just ignoring her still near constant stream of snickering, even though their annoyance continued to grow just what she found so funny.

Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside his head.

Then there was a scream.

"Well, it seems to have worked," Sirius said pleasantly.

"Wonder which of his roommates he snagged," James chuckled, he'd accidentally caught a random third year on his first try and this was bound to be funnier because Harry would know the bloke.

"Hopefully not myself," was all Harry could think to mutter.

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: Everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell.

"I half expected it to be Neville, you already mentioned him snoring and he hasn't had a catastrophe happen to him in ages," James chuckled.

Harry sent Advanced Potion-Making flying in panic; Ron was dangling upside down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

"Revenge for him punching you awake over the summer," Remus got a good laugh out of that. "It happened so long ago he wouldn't even realize you'd still planned retaliation."

"Moony's favorite," Sirius sighed.

Harry yelled an apology, as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter, and Neville picked himself up from the floor, having fallen out of bed.

"Ah, well, I was half right," James's laughter continued, the easy mood flowing through the room making him continuing just had everyone chuckling even harder than they really should have been.

He groped for the potion book and riffled through it in a panic, trying to find the right page; at last he located it and deciphered the cramped word underneath the spell: Praying that this was the counter-jinx, Harry thought Liberacorpus! with all his might. There was another flash of light, and Ron fell in a heap onto his mattress.

Harry repeated his apology, while Dean and Seamus continued to roar with laughter.

Ron requested tomorrow, Harry just use an alarm clock.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Sirius cackled.

By the time they had got dressed, padding themselves out with several of Mrs. Weasleys hand-knitted sweaters and carrying, cloaks, scarves, and gloves, Ron's shock had subsided and he had decided that Harry's new spell was highly amusing; so amusing, in fact, that he lost no time in regaling Hermione with the story as they sat down for breakfast.

"Why?" Remus demanded, looking genuinely dumbfounded at this display. "He must know by now anything regarding that book won't entertain her."

Harry just shrugged, he hadn't been planning on telling her.

Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry, demanding if this was yet another spell from that potion book of his.

Harry frowned at her, calling her out on always jumping to the worst conclusions.

"It's even worse when she's right," Sirius huffed.

He agreed it was though, and she lectured him on just attempting an unknown, handwritten spell to see what would happen!

"She's got half a point," Lily couldn't help but agree now that some of their laughter had subsided. "That really could have been dangerous, or you may not have even known the effect at all until it was too late to understand something was wrong, may not even have had a countercurse ready."

Harry couldn't help but shift in unease, not at all enjoying the foreboding feeling he believed her.

Harry asked what made it so bad handwritten?

Hermione snapped that meant it wasn't Ministry approved,

"Gah!" Sirius clutched his ears in pain.

"As if we didn't hear enough of that last year, Hermione's really working to get on every one of my nerves lately," James agreed tartly.

She also concluded this Prince must have been quite a dodgy one, to be inventing spells to dangle people around, who put energy into that?

"I don't even think the Prince made up half those spells," James rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to wonder if he just heard about them and was trying to figure out how to do them himself." At least four of them so far had been common knowledge during his time at school, it seemed ridiculous one person had made up all of those and they'd grown popular in that same time frame.

Ron offered his twin brothers, while Harry pointed out his dad. He quickly fibbed and told Lupin had mentioned this spell once, but this last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a wonderful possibility occurred to him. Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be-?

James tried to laugh, but the sound didn't really make it to full crescendo. Harry very obviously realized the answer to that one here and now, but what he wouldn't give to gift his son with something like this. His cloak often times didn't feel like it was enough to remind his only child he'd even existed, but he tried as always to shake off those thoughts.

Lily really was getting a handle on herself and almost entirely smothered the funny little noise Harry had the wrong parents influence for this book.

Hermione kept going past his thoughts, pointing out they'd seen this spell in action before as well, by Death Eaters during the Quidditch World Cup.

"That must have been an entirely different spell," Remus disagreed, "or at least a modified version of it. Levicorpus very specifically hoists one up by their ankle. That other bit of magic was much more..." he trailed off, not at all liking the words his mind offered up to explain such evil magic.

Flexible seemed to light for what those Muggles had suffered.

Ron came to his aid, saying this was different, those people were abusing the spell. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh, then he told Hermione she just didn't like this Prince because he was better than Hermione at Potions.

Hermione insisted it had nothing to do with that, even as her cheeks went red.

"At once proving her wrong," Sirius needlessly pointed out with his own eye roll. Girl needed to get a handle on her expressions. He only wished Lily were so easy to read, he still kept eyeing her and hoping any moment she'd slip and tell them who this Prince was, but aside from laughing at their ignorance he wasn't getting anything.

She insisted it was all just irresponsible what they were doing with the unknown of that book. Then she persisted Ron stop calling him Prince, like it's a title, he obviously wasn't a good person!

Harry deflected if she was getting towards him being a Death Eater there's no way he'd be boasting as a half-blood.

Lily let out a blistering sigh the kids had just so easily transitioned into talking about what she'd refused to see for far too long about this Prince.

Even as he said it, Harry remembered that his father had been pure-blood, but he pushed the thought out of his mind; he would worry about that later.

Hermione stubbornly went on with her point, Death Eaters couldn't all be pure-blood, there just weren't that many of them. At least some had to be half-bloods, pretending to be pure. It was only Muggle-borns they outright hated, they'd be quite happy to let Harry and Ron join up.

"Oh but of course, lots of parties would be going on during that," Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust even as he joked of this.

"Deathday parties," Remus agreed with the same expression.

In Ron's indignation, he sent a sausage flying to hit Ernie Macmillan.

James snorted at the random insertion, and all the sudden memories of doing that with much more purpose.

Pointing out his family was nothing but blood traitors, and that was worse than a Muggle-born as far as Death Eaters were concerned!

Harry agreed they'd just love to have him around, they'd all be best pals if they'd stop trying to kill him.

"You mean that's not how you make the best of friends?" Remus mockingly demanded.

This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.

"Ginny's been doing that a lot this year," Lily chuckled in surprise while Harry was quick to smile again for getting off this topic, it was starting to give him a headache lingering on this.

She gave him another scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in familiar, thin, slanting writing from Dumbledore. He thanked her, and then asked if she'd be going with them to Hogsmeade?

Ginny said no, she was meeting up with Dean, but would probably see them there.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

Ron demanded why they were checking to see if they were smuggling Dark stuff out? Surely this would only happen when they were trying to get back in with it.

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The three Marauders sighed heavily, more than making their point they'd laughingly demanded the same thing of Filch at one point or another, and received the same results.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Harry wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun.

"Fred and George already put them out of business?" James forcefully put a happy little spin back in his voice at the reminder of how murky business' were in this climate. He still hated all the reminders pouring back in now upon Harry's life.

Harry couldn't even begin to play along. Ginny had only caused a slight delay in an ever growing headache, which clearly hadn't been about the Prince, but his coming day, and this wasn't boding well.

Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

They were immediately enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air.

Sirius inhaled deeply like he was trying to pull that scent to him right now, boy he missed his frequent trips to that shop.

Ron was just saying how they should stay in here all afternoon when Slughorn called out to them from behind. He had a box of crystallized pineapple in his arm, and was scolding Harry he'd missed three of his little suppers now.

"That toffee scent still worth it?" Remus muttered conspiratorially, as if Slughorn were here now and trying to wrangle the pair of his friends along once again.

"Nah, I'd have gone outside again already," Sirius agreed.

"Maybe come back with a few snowballs if he didn't take a hint," James agreed.

He insisted this wouldn't do, Miss Granger loved them!

Hermione helplessly said they certainly were-

"I can't decide if Hermione's lying to herself, or him," James snorted.

Harry defended he'd had Quidditch practice, when in fact he'd been scheduling these every time Slughorn had sent him a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Ron was not left out, and they usually had a laugh with Ginny, imagining Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.

All of the boys got a good laugh out of that, while Lily rolled her eyes. They really weren't that bad.

Slughorn said he expected them to certainly win their coming match then, with all this hard work.

"I already expected that," James smirked while Harry gave a nervous grin back. He really wanted this game to go without a hitch, it being his first one as captain.

He tried to offer Harry to come on Monday, he surely wouldn't be playing in this weather.

Harry said he had an appointment with Dumbledore, and Slughorn dramatically sighed he'd been foisted again. He threatened Harry couldn't avoid him forever.

"Try him," Sirius sniffed, they'd managed quite often in their years.

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"An insult on top of an insult," Remus groaned, as if Ron didn't have reason enough for his insecurity problems to be in his face.

Hermione added on even after Slughorn left that they really weren't that bad, they could be fun at times. Then she caught sight of Ron's face, and was suddenly very interested in the deluxe sugar quills.

"Subtle," Sirius drew the word out with a deadpan expression.

"I don't see why she doesn't just invite him along," Lily sighed. "Ask Slughorn if she can bring a friend, he'll say yes on principle, he can come along to one and see how they are. I'll doubt he'd want to go again after that," she finished with a grumpy look at the boys.

"After that first one she hadn't the chance," Harry reminded of his Quidditch practices.

"And I'd be even more cross with her, subjecting him to that!" James rolled his eyes good naturedly. They'd invited Remus and...well they'd invited their friends to one as well, and they'd taken to it as well as to be expected. Needless to say, there was a reason Slughorn only invited he and Sirius to the important parties instead of every one after that.

Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, Harry showed much more interest in the new extra-large sugar quills than he would normally have done, but Ron continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next.

No one wanted to linger in the shop after that, and instead bundled backup to head for The Three Broomsticks.

The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; squinting through his rain-washed glasses Harry recognized the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. They were barely feet from him when Harry realized who the man was, Mundungus.

"Oh joy," Sirius huffed. The last time this one had been significantly mentioned he'd dropped the ball and allowed a dementor to attack Harry. The end results weren't the point, this one wasn't a favorite of theirs no matter the good laugh he was worth from time to time.

The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Sounds about right," Remus snorted.

"Probably stole the lot," James agreed.

He greeted them with a most unconvincing stab at airiness.

"Wonder why he would be," Lily muttered. Harry really hadn't shown much inclination towards him for Mundungus to be anything other than passingly cordial.

He began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

Harry politely asked if he was selling all this?

Mundungus snapped yes he was while snatching a silver goblet out of Ron's hands.

Ron had just begun to say how familiar that looked when Mundungus shouted ouch!

James startled hard in surprise, automatically trying to lean in closer to his kid in fear someone had attacked him. It was a natural reaction after all the threatening situations his kid had been in. Forcing himself not to imagine dementors swooping in once more upon his child, he kept going frantically because of that one simple word.

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

"Bloody hell, what did he have!" Lily yelped in concern, fighting with herself to jump in front of Harry and demand a reasonable explanation for this. His fierce expression wasn't giving much of an answer, clearly so outraged the words weren't coming to him, but she just knew it had to be a good one for him to be acting like this.

Harry pressed their noses together as he shouted that had been from Sirius' house! That had the Black family crest on it!

This was so far beyond the scope of the danger they'd been fearing, the burst of surprised laughter almost sounded like it had been punched out of Sirius. He still kept going though, his shoulders shaking with mirth even as his eyes landed shrewdly on his godson. "What a reaction."

Harry's anger didn't lessen at all for his godfathers careless way, keeping a focused anger on no one in here for the disrespect he saw in this act.

James cleared his throat uneasily before calling for his attention. "Really not seeing what you are here Harry. Sirius doesn't give a damn about that stuff, surely you know that."

"He nicked his stuff!" Harry spat, aghast now that no one seemed to be getting this. "It doesn't matter he wouldn't care, it was still his things!"

James still exchanged a puzzled look with Remus, who shrugged without answer. If he'd caught Mundungus doing that, he likely would have rolled his eyes and ignored the act, exactly for the reason Prongs had just said. They were things, they barely associated that house and anything inside it with their friend because Sirius himself put so much distance away from it.

Sirius decided it was best to just play this off for now though, it didn't really matter what his reaction would have been, but Harry's anger for it, and so he persisted, "well, the point here is Harry's finally giving Mundungus some revenge for bailing on him last summer, so whatever the reason, I say you keep going with it Prongs."

James shrugged and did just that, not doing a very good job of hiding his mystified expression.

Mundungus tried to protest, but Harry's hold only tightened as he demanded if he'd gone back that very night to strip the place?!

James winced hard at that line, swallowing convulsively and nearly choking on the spit. He had to remind himself it had already been months to Harry since this happened, where as he'd just heard the news days ago. He could hardly fathom speaking the words in a conversation yet, let alone Harry still casually dumping that pile of words no matter his temper.

Harry demanded Mundungus hand it all over, but with a crack, he disapparated.

Harry whirled on the spot, demanding to know where he'd gone.

"Not anywhere around there," Lily muttered. If there was one thing Mundungus was good at, it was weaseling himself out of those kinds of situations.

He kept shouting about that thieving-

Tonks appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair now slick with sleet. She told him there was no point in his yelling.

Harry's anger only seemed to double as he howled, "am I really still being followed?!"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Remus frowned, a bit of reproach already boiling if Harry really took this out on Tonks, she didn't deserve it at all for doing her job. "What makes you think it went away?"

"Probably not though," Sirius quickly tried to defuse, more than happy to jump topics. "She said she was stationed in Hogsmeade, probably walking the area and the Hogshead is as good a place as any to do that, or maybe you just missed an Order meeting."

Harry just turned to grumbling and not acknowledging either of them, his hands still itching like he wished to pin someone where they stood.

When Harry groused what had happened, Tonks seemingly took no notice of the information but to say there still wasn't a point to yelling about it.

"Wouldn't surprise me if she knew," James gave an uneasy chuckle at the idea of her helping to pack it away instead of Sirius like they'd all laughed about at one point. Why did everything have to come back to haunt them with their jokes?

Then she told them to get out of the cold. She watched them go through the door of the Three Broomsticks. The moment he was inside, Harry burst out in further frustration about Sirius' stuff being nicked!

"So we gathered," Lily frowned in sympathy at him. She really was trying to understand why Harry was in such a temper about this, and she could sort of see it just being the principle of someone desecrating his godfathers house like that, but even then that wasn't a place Harry liked to think of Sirius in anymore than them. Sad maybe, depressed at the reminder of those things now in Mundungus' possession she'd understand, but where was this anger coming from? It was starting to wind her up as much as him for the simple fact she couldn't grasp what was bothering her child.

Hermione softly agreed, but also rebuked his shouting as people were staring. She told him to go sit down and she'd fetch drinks.

Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to their table a few minutes later holding three bottles of butterbeer.

"I don't know why you wouldn't be, you're clearly not going to let this go," Sirius sighed, though he more than wanted to.

Harry demanded of no one couldn't the Order keep him in check? He shouldn't be able to steal whatever isn't nailed down!

"No," all four of them muttered. That really had been part of Mundungus' 'charm.' It wouldn't do to have a thief around who wasn't good at his job.

Hermione desperately shushed him now, looking around to make sure nobody was listening; there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at Harry with great interest, and Zabini was lolling against a pillar not far away.

"Oh good, I needed someone to hex," James muttered for himself on that one, well aware Harry didn't partake in his personal feelings of venting, but he certainly was envisioning it right now.

She did agree she'd be annoyed to, someone stealing her stuff- Harry gagged on his butterbeer; he had momentarily forgotten that he owned number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"All the more reason I would have laughed it all off, now it was doubly uncared for," Sirius sighed. "Least Mundungus would put it to a good cause, his own pockets."

Harry gave him a scandalized look and Sirius quickly raised his hands in surrender, deciding against pursuing the point.

He did agree it was no wonder Mundungus hadn't been happy to see him, that being his now. He still decided he was going to tell Dumbledore about this Monday.

"What exactly do you expect Dumbledore to do about it?" James asked curiously.

Harry just let his expression keep stewing without an answer, he didn't really have one.

Hermione seemed pleased he'd at least found a solution to get him to stop shouting, then demanded of Ron what he was doing. He'd been glancing around the room this whole time, but quickly muttered nothing when caught. Harry knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and attractive bar-maid, Madam Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot.

"Most lads do," Sirius chuckled, "though I'd think he'd know better by now than to show as much in front of Hermione."

"Getting her back for ignoring him at breakfast that other day," James shrugged.

Hermione clearly didn't buy it, as she waspishly said 'nothing,' was probably in the back getting more drinks.

"Hermione's jealousy really is getting more obvious than ever," Remus chuckled, more than willing to play along and put that nasty business off their minds. "I'm wondering how long it'll take Harry to lock them in a classroom and force them to have it out."

"I was more waiting for them to get on with it, they'd never been subtle in the past about their rows," Harry rolled his eyes, but at least his words weren't as biting anymore, he was clearly calming down.

Ron ignored this jibe, sipping his drink in what he evidently considered to be a dignified silence. Harry was thinking about Sirius, and how he had hated those silver goblets anyway.

All four of them sighed as it registered Harry knew this anyways. It was maddening he wouldn't just spit it out and tell them what his real problem with this was, but he also had his teeth clenched again and wasn't looking at any of them. Weather he thought it was obvious enough or just didn't want to talk about it, no one was going to force it out of him when they'd rather it never be spoken of again.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Ron and the bar. The moment Harry drained the last drops in his bottle she asked if they were ready to head back to the castle?

The other two nodded; it had not been a fun trip and the weather was getting worse the longer they stayed. Once again they drew their cloaks tightly around them, rearranged their scarves, pulled on their gloves, then followed Katie Bell and a friend out of the pub and back up the High Street.

Despite his hands still twitching in his lap and his face tightening more every second, they all thought he was still just on the topic of Sirius, it didn't occur to them a headache was forming again. That warning feeling deep in his gut was starting to bubble, this trip into Hogsmeade was destined to get worse.

Harry's thoughts strayed to Ginny as they trudged up the road to Hogwarts through the frozen slush.

"How random," Sirius chuckled forcefully, but was all for Harry's stray thoughts being shown rather than his lingering one.

They had not met up with her, undoubtedly, thought Harry, because she and Dean were cozily closeted in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, that haunt of happy couples. Scowling, he bowed his head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.

"I can see how that would bother you," James was quick to jump in and agree with this, making Lily wonder if she wasn't the only one feeling wrong footed in not getting a handle on Harry's real problem. "If I had anything resembling a sister I'd feel the same."

Harry was so startled to hear that coming out of his mouth he entirely lost his contrite expression and turned to him in surprise. He'd never contradicted when anyone said this because before now he'd really felt no reason to. This time though, he wanted to protest in disgust it was nothing like that, Ginny was far more of a friend to him than anything resembling a sister. He held back though, because he wasn't sure that was the right comparison anymore either. It wasn't like his friendship with Hermione after all...so what was the word to use for it? He was chewing on this so hard he hardly noticed the tempo of his headache increasing as his dad continued.

It was a little while before Harry became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to him on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Harry squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand with her friend Leanne.

"Urgh, avoid this Harry," Sirius swiftly inserted. "Teammate she is, but you don't want to get in between her tiff with her friend. She'd think you're a right pig of a captain."

A trickle of sweat started forming on the nap of Harry's neck despite the freezing temperatures he so vividly remembered. He could no longer focus on Ginny, Sirius, or much of anyone right now except the very real pain of his head screaming at him to pay attention around the splitting it was causing his vision.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Harry's glasses. Just as he raised a gloved hand to wipe them, Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Ron had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly.

James froze, the feeling erupting in the room all around them. As Harry had just said, this was not in any way funny, but with a glance at his friends he tried his hardest not to immediately assume a Death Eater was around. This didn't have to be the panic inducing fear for life he was already latching onto with far too much practice...

Yet there was something wrong, something eerie. . . . Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching.

Lily's lip was already trembling, her face as white as the sleet in her mind during this depiction, she was fighting back the urge to shriek as loud as that wind. Even without Harry's ghastly face a mask of horror promising this should not be interpreted any other way, she knew, they all did, something was terribly wrong.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream.

James startled to his feet without remembering to do so, his body trying to put him into action even as no spell truly came to mind. There was no answer for this, his eyes only staying locked on the words for explanation, even while the back of his mind was already offering up the horror of this happening to the rest of the kids, his Harry next any second.

Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

Harry looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

He told them all to stay here while he ran for help.

"No! You don't separate from them!"

Harry hardly acknowledged this, couldn't even have said who'd scolded him, his mind purely absorbed on the one goal of finding help.

He began to sprint toward the school; he had never seen anyone behave as Katie had just behaved and could not think what had caused it; he hurtled around a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs.

Before the guttural noise could even form, a snarl of anger or fear for Harry next running into yet another problem, James was still going in the same breath, though he really hadn't breathed since Katie began her 'flight.'

Harry recognized Hagrid in relief and quickly explained someone had been cursed!

Hagrid was in a panic at once, asking about Ron and Hermione?

A spastic noise thumped somewhere in Sirius' throat, a good old laugh about who Hagrid worried about more with the order of those names, but it never even made a flicker in his mind, to focused on every word Prongs was saying.

Harry corrected the right girl before leading the way.

Together they ran back along the lane. It took them no time to find the little group of people around Katie, who was still writhing and screaming on the ground; Ron, Hermione, and Leanne were all trying to quiet her.

Hagrid shouted at them all to get back, and then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Lily was still shivering nonstop, her teeth clicking together as if that cold was permeating the air in here as well. This was what brought James back to the room, and he crossed it quickly to settle beside her, with her son on her other side. She tried to protest, but he ignored her as he kept going still on the same breath, even if it was coming out more strained every second for not giving himself a chance to breathe in between this mayhem starting out of the blue.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

She asked if Leanne could tell them anything more that happened. All she could sob was it happened when that package tore. She pointed at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched,

Harry startled out of his seat as well, nearly sending Lily and Sirius to the floor in his wild grab to stop this. James hardly noticed, locked as he was to the words to ensure Harry's intent went through to the one who needed it.

but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back, telling him not to touch it.

The breath of release escaping them all finally forced air in again. They'd all wanted to shout that from the moment Leanne had said the words, afraid Harry's natural curiosity would send him off to do this, but it had been locked in place until he showed he'd be doing otherwise, the opposite in ensuring his friend wouldn't suffer the same fate.

"It's cursed," Remus said flatly, as his mind finally spun back into processing things again.

"And a powerful one at that," Sirius agreed as he rubbed ruefully at his jaw, that was the kind of thing he'd expect to find in his mothers jewelry box, not some poor kid at Hogwarts possessing.

"What the bloody hell was Katie doing with it?" Lily demanded, her voice not anywhere near normal volume no matter how hard she tried.

"That is a very good question," James agreed, only managing the flat tone because he was still getting his breath back. He took one more cautious look at Harry, the idea of his son going through that nearly suffocating him all over again. It helped nothing Harry refused to take his seat, but began pacing the room, a deeply troubled look that he hoped had everything to do with his teammate being in these circumstances rather than remembering this happening to him next.

He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper. He recognized it, that was on display in Borgin and Burkes when last he'd been, the case had said it was cursed.

Sirius snarled, fighting back the impulse to spit in disgust at how often that store kept being brought up recently. He made a mental note to burn it to the ground, and sadly that wasn't even in his top ten of things he had to do first.

Katie must have touched it. He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably, and asked how they'd come across this?

Leanne explained that's why they'd been arguing. Katie had come back from the bathroom with it, and she'd been acting odd saying she had to get it to Hogwarts right now. She brokenly ended in further sobs Katie had probably been Imperius and Leanne hadn't even realized!

"There are more ways of bending people to your will then that curse, that one just tends to be the most powerful." Lily murmured to herself, the idea of it happening at all still causing her to want to scream any second. Why did this have to keep happening in Harry's life? She wished this was more boggling, but sadly in their time in school it wasn't unheard of for students to come across cursed objects, and cursing each other with powerful spells was a walking liability, and still her son kept managing to find the most oblique ways of emphasizing that in his life.

Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

Harry tried to find out more, if Katie had said who it was for, but Leanne said Katie wouldn't say. So she'd tried to take it away from her, and then- Leanne let out a wail of despair.

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

James shivered so hard the book nearly fell from his grasp. He understood why Harry was doing it of course, so no one else could unwittingly come across it, so someone like Dumbledore could investigate it. Reasoning obviously said Harry would be fine, so had Katie until it had been touched by skin and his son was clearly being careful of this. None of that fought off the compulsion to slap that away from his child this second, to be the one to do this instead.

He told his friends they'd have to take this to Madam Pomfrey.

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, Harry was thinking furiously. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer, he spoke aloud to Ron this must have been Malfoy's doing. This is what he'd bought that day in Borgin and Burkes.

"You're very likely not wrong," Lily passively agreed as she watched his hurried steps pick up in tempo, weather in agitation for being wrong or excitement of being right she really couldn't tell. "It does tie up rather well, but at the same time, it doesn't at all explain the conversation you heard between Borgin and Draco." The bit about being seen carrying it down the street sticking out most in her mind, this was easily something that could have been hidden away. Hermione herself had seen it moments later when she'd stepped in after Malfoy.

Harry just gave a jerky nod he'd heard her without adding anything, likely meaning he was still thinking hard about something else, or trying very hard not to think of something more likely.

Ron was hesitant of the idea, reminding this had happened in a girls bathroom, surely Malfoy wasn't in there.

"Like a bloke couldn't slip into the girls bathroom for a second," Sirius jeered, entirely sick of Harry's friends protesting something like this at every turn. "It's not as if it's got a ward on it to stop us!"

"An interesting query though, why the girls bathroom? If it was indeed Malfoy and not some isolated incident, why did it have to be a girl? Malfoy could have just as easily done this to any male coming along," Remus muttered, wondering if they were missing some significance in light of Harry's train of thought.

Before Harry could go any further, McGonagall came marching down the stairs to meet them. Harry quickly handed over the wrapped necklace. They were stopped by Filch at the door hurrying forward with his Secrecy Sensor,

"That's another thing," James said in clipped tones. "No matter the cursers intentions, there's no way that thing would have gotten in the school past Filch with Katie."

"Maybe she wasn't trying to get it back to the school, but headed to somewhere else in Hogsmeade with it." Remus offered.

"No, Leanne specifically said someone inside Hogwarts," Harry parotid, still pacing this way and that as his mind clamored to show him something he was forced to keep away, the movement wasn't helping at all.

"Someone inside Hogwarts who very likely wasn't actually inside the school at that time," Remus agreed. "Everyone in the castle was likely to be out that day," clearly thinking his theory still stood.

Harry didn't acknowledge him, afraid anything he said would only make his own mind worse.

McGonagall carefully passed the necklace off to him, telling him to take this to Snape.

They really were all in such a highly agitated state that hardly made a blip on their thoughts. If they'd thought about it at all, they would have said McGonagall herself, they just cared to much about Katie and whoever the target had been right now to think otherwise of who looked that thing over.

Harry and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the still sobbing Leanne.

The moment the door closed she demanded what happened.

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

McGonagall kindly asked her to go onto the Hospital Wing then, and she left.

Her expression returned sharp as she continued to the trio this all happened when Katie touched the necklace?

Harry described the rest in detail. Then he followed up if he could speak to Dumbledore.

She looked surprised, but responded he'd be gone until Monday. However, anything he had to tell the Headmaster could be said to her.

"I think you offended her," Sirius tried absently to put a smile in place, though nothing of this whole chapter had been funny at all.

For a split second, Harry hesitated. Professor McGonagall did not invite confidences; Dumbledore, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild.

"I can see your point though," Lily said fairly, even if the same thing wouldn't have crossed her mind. No matter how open Dumbledore seemed to Harry, her son was still one of the few students in that school who would see him that way, everyone else had even less direct contact with him and would have gone to their head of house with this.

This was a life-and-death matter, though, and no moment to worry about being laughed at. So he blurted out his idea about Malfoy.

On one side of him, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment; on the other, Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance between herself and Harry.

All three Marauders looked very snappy at that, with the firm belief they held that no matter their personal disagreements they wouldn't be showing that in front of anyone else. This was just insulting on Harry's friends part, far more than disagreeing with him in general when they wouldn't even play along with his idea.

McGonagall said that was a very serious accusation,

"He didn't accuse me?" Sirius went wide-eyed and innocent again.

Harry glanced up at him and gave an obligatory laugh, but only faked that this put him at ease as he sank down in the nearest seat, next to Remus. He was still rubbing hard at his temples, his eyes clenched shut and for all the world wishing he could sever his head to be rid of this constant pain.

Harry admitted he didn't have any proof, but also told her about what they'd heard over the summer.

Hermione cut in to remind Borgin had asked if he'd wanted to take a package with him, and Malfoy had said no.

Ron interjected he'd look like a prat carrying a necklace down the street.

"Both you boys really aren't keeping up very well with this," Lily shook her head at them.

"It had been months since that happened, not this morning," Harry mumbled in slight defense he hadn't recalled the exact words, even as much as he'd obsessed over them.

Hermione sharply reminded both of them it would have been wrapped up, that wasn't the problem. Obviously it had been something big and bulky Malfoy couldn't go around with.

McGonagall cut into their squabble, furious now at their accusation that held nothing. Hundreds of people could be in the same circumstance.

Ron muttered that's what he'd said.

"Congratulations Ron, now you're mimicking the book inside the book," Sirius pressed out an even more forced chuckle, growing heavily agitated this was getting harder every time.

In any case, Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today.

"How would she know?" Lily muttered in confusion, that seemed more like something Snape would be aware of. The point didn't particularly matter she supposed, as she agreed with James' next words.

"Ra-drat," James sighed, there went his prime suspect.

"I wouldn't rule him out just yet though," Sirius still had a calculating look in place, still prepared to defend Harry's idea. "Crabbe or Goyle could have done this for him, if he is the one behind this." He really found it hard to believe Malfoy was very possibly up to something this year and then this happened without being connected.

Harry looked up sharply at him, but even this answer still felt a step off. Still, it did ease his pain somewhat, as always, to hear the conversation around him circulating, the true answer just beyond his reach but at least not festering as his dad continued.

Harry gaped at her, deflating, asking how she knew.

McGonagall explained he was doing a detention with her, as he'd failed to turn in two Transfiguration assignments.

"I didn't realize Malfoy's boasting earlier literally meant he wasn't going to be doing his work this year," Remus rolled his eyes at this inconsequential bit of information.

"Surprised he hasn't been paying someone to do it for him like all the other years," Sirius groused.

She dismissed them then, as she needed to go check on Katie.

They began climbing the stairs towards their dorm, and no matter how angry Harry was at the two for not backing him in front of McGonagall, he still joined in as they discussed who the necklace was supposed to go to.

Hermione said the most likely subjects were Dumbledore, Slughorn, or Harry.

Harry's eyes lit up briefly, he was so sure that was the right answer and the confidence nearly spurred him into words, but was cut off by Remus shaking his head while James had been listening the other two. "No, to all three. I'm still leaning towards it being a woman the intended target now. Why the girls bathroom, that part just makes no sense."

It had all happened so fast he'd lost his confidence with the exact same thought, back to muttering in squalor of the uselessness of his mind.

Harry disagreed with the last one at least, or Katie would have turned around right then to hand it to him.

"I might disagree," Lily hedged, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she thought. "It really depends on the kind of magic placed upon her to force her doing this. If she'd been given the very explicit command to give this to you in your shared common room, she may not have even registered you behind her at all." Her focus came back though, and she shook her head sharply to dispel away that line of thinking. "Point is, though sound logic Hermione's using, we can't rule out anyone."

Harry could at least nod his agreement to that, though his eyes kept drifting out of focus like he'd struck gold and let it slip through his fingers all at once and for the life of him couldn't understand why.

He did wonder aloud why Malfoy had told her to take it into the castle at all.

Hermione stamped her foot in frustration Malfoy hadn't been in Hogsmeade today!

"Ooh, now we know we've got her in a temper," James huffed with a roll of his eyes, but did tell Harry, "you're being rather single minded with this though. You're causing just as much trouble not hearing others ideas and insisting on your own as they are ignoring yours."

"But you know I'm right!" Harry spluttered.

"Not really," he sighed. "I agree it's a very, very good chance, but it also never hurts to hear other ideas while you're at it. Could even somehow round back to helping your own on a completely different theory."

Harry crossed his arms and muttered defiantly, causing Remus to actually smirk in genuine amusement again. Harry sounded so like both James and Sirius with the grumbles he was using.

Harry moved past that, saying he must have an accomplice. Crabbe or Goyle, or any number of Death Eaters now he could call upon for help.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks that plainly said, 'There's no point arguing with him.'

"That's as much as you can ask for at this point," Sirius sighed. "Letting you talk yourself out."

"Gee, thanks," Harry snipped.

The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: Clearly, the news of Katie's fate had not yet spread.

"Give it a few hours," Lily sighed, knowing this wasn't the kind of thing to stay secret in the castle.

"At least until breakfast," James agreed.

Ron boosted a first year out of a seat next to the fireplace as he said

Remus snorted in surprise.

the whole thing wasn't done very slick at all. The curse didn't make it into the castle, and had a very low chance of doing so. Not very foolproof.

Hermione agreed with him, even as she toed him out of the chair and offered it back t the first year.

"I'll call that a small miracle she managed that," Sirius agreed, finally managing an easy laugh along with Remus for that random exchange.

It hadn't been very well thought out at all.

Harry agreed up to the point of saying since when was Malfoy a great thinker.

Neither Ron nor Hermione answered him.

"Glory, why is it always you," James groaned as he hastily snapped his chapter shut before anything else could happen.

Harry couldn't help but agree. His stance on Malfoy aside, why had it been him coming across this at all!

HPHPHPHP

Actually, despite the characters not, I do get Harry's little tizzy over Mundungus in this chapter. I'd have been just as outraged, as it's the principle of the matter Sirius was being stolen from. I hope I made it clear though that they just don't because they can't associate that stuff with Sirius, whereas that's really all Harry has learned to attach to his godfather, things. He barely has any memories with him. This is getting depressing, but I still hope you enjoyed on some level.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #HBP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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dangan-happy · 3 years

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[HARK! That sounds like an ask that has just come in!] To anyone (except Tenko, sorry).

I started working recently, and it's been... Harsh. I spent almost all of my childhood wishing I was an adult so I could finally take control of my life, but now that I'm 18 going on 19, I've realized that being older didn't make anything any better. Actually, all I can think as of lately is that I'm tired of everything- tired of college (I didn't want to enroll, my parents forced me), tired of work (because my back hurts and my head feels numb after hours of doing the same thing), tired of living.

I don't want to die, not really, I just... Wish I could have some hope for the future. Hope that things will get better and that some day I'll finally, finally feel like all this pain was worth it, but I don't think that time is ever going to come. Not even having a salary makes me happy, because I'm so unmotivated I can't even think of anything to spend it on. I feel nothing but despair, and I've felt this way for years. Maybe I'm just too far gone at this point... Sorry for venting.

Don’t be sorry for venting, anon! Venting is always good for you, especially since it’s way better than bottling it all up. I’m so glad you felt safe and comfortable enough coming here and venting about all of this. Hearing about all of this breaks my magical miracle girl heart, and that’s not sarcasm at all! And hearing that... w-wait a minute, y-you said that feel nothing but despair? A-And that you’ve felt this despair for years now?! Waahhhhh, oh nooooo, this is not good; not good at all! Call me a drama rabbit, but hearing this truly makes tears form in my beady, black eyes; this has got to be one of the biggest no-nos I’ve ever witnessed in all my years of teaching!

M-My wonderful, hardworking student, please take a seat. This calls for a moment of Magical Miracle Girl ★ Monomi’s Comforting Support & Advice 101. Tee-hee, I named that all by myself. Pretty neat title, huh? Anyway, enough about that, for I’m here to help you with this despair. Having taught tons of high school students, as well as encountering a bunch of adults and even some recent high school graduates, I can understand where you’re coming from. Just entering adulthood is sadly no triple chocolate cakewalk, whether you once wanted to become an adult at first or not. It’s quite unfair that your parents forced you to enroll into college, as that’s something you should decide on! I don’t know what you specifically do for work, but it really does sound exhausting and maybe even a bit repetitive, too. A-As for being tired of living... I-I can understand that. I can understand the despairful wonders on if all of this hard work will even be worth it at all; if it’ll even be worth it at all; what the point even is for and to do certain things, such as education and work. All of that just piles on and on, and that weight begins to really weigh you down. Sniff, I-I’m sorry. Just seeing you struggle with this much despair really is making me tear up here; I just can’t stand to see one of my wonderful students go through such terrible despair. I-I’m such an emotional teacher, I know...

Ah, but I must wipe these tears away for the meantime, and show you the truth. To quote a few of my students: “I’ll cut through your words!” Right now, it may be hard to see the light at the end of this dark tunnel full of despair; it may be hard to see if any of this will even be worth it in the end or at all. I can understand why you feel that way, but I must stress for you to not give up, no matter what! It may not seem or feel like it now, but this is simply a rough patch in your life, and like other previous rough patches you’ve most likely experienced and gone through, you will get through this! All of this hard work; all of the hard work you do in college and at work; all of it will prove to be useful and will prove to be one-thousand percent worth it in the end. And you are not ‘too far gone at this point’. To once again quote those same few students: “No, that’s wrong!” You are never ‘far too gone’; you’re just experiencing a whole lot of stress and emotional distress at this time, that’s all. I have full hope that you will get through this; that you will be able to power through and fight back against this despair; that you will be able to see the light at the end of this tunnel and keeping using hope as a motivator. I promise you and my entire magical carrot garden, all of this will be worth it! Sadly, while I may be a magical girl, I can’t give you any specifics on when things will start to improve. I do have a student who’s really good with predictions and even has his own crystal ball though! If you want, I could ask him to help you out. Ah, but right now, he’s busy finishing up that late homework assignment of his, so for now, I’ll use my magic stick to shine some shining hope onto you! And I’ll add onto that hope by giving you the hope from my heart!

To be honest, I would suggest looking into seeing a counselor or overall professional to talk to about all of this. Look around in your area, and find one that fits your wants and needs, and in your case, works with your schedule. In fact, you might be able to get some help finding one through your school! It doesn’t hurt to try. Of course, just the thought of counseling or therapy can be scary, so if you’re not exactly ready for that, then don’t worry, I understand. But I would still highly suggest finding a proper, healthy way to vent. Try venting to someone you trust, like a significant other, a best friend, a parent or legal guardian, a family member, or even a school counselor, if your school has one! And if you’re just not ready to talk to someone at all just yet, then try journaling! Get yourself a cute or cool-looking notebook, pick your choice of pen or pencil, and write down your thoughts, your feelings, your emotions, anything and everything you want to get out and jot down. And the best part is: Only you will look at it, write in it, and have access to it! You can even decorate it with stickers and washi tape, if you want to, tee-hee. Suggestions to venting and getting some of that despair out aside, as your teacher, I am assigning you a homework assignment. Don’t worry, there’s no deadline, and you won’t fail my class or receive a grade or anything like that, I promise! With that being said, your homework assignment is... to treat yourself. Now now, I read the part where you said that you’re so unmotivated that you just don’t know what to buy and everything, but with all of this despair you’re fighting against, and with all of the hard work you’re doing, I think-- no, I know that you deserve a reward. Buy yourself a few of your favorite snacks or drinks; buy yourself a new comic book or novel; buy yourself a adorable Squishmallow and name it Sir Fluffypants! They always come with names on their tags, but it’s funnier and better to name stuffed animals yourself, don’t you think? But seriously, for your sake and your sake alone, pat yourself on the back and reward yourself for being so strong and hardworking, okay?

This officially concludes a moment of Magical Miracle Girl ★ Monomi’s Comforting Support & Advice 101. I sincerely hope that some of this reassures you and helps you out in some way or another. Before you go, let me give you a gold star sticker and a nice, warm, super duper soft hug. You’re going through a lot right now, and you’re not only working hard, but fighting hard; you’re fighting against despair, after all. So please, feel free to hug out some of that stress and pent-up despair. Now, keep doing your very best! Don’t lose to yourself! And don’t forget to save frequently!

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #monomi #mod hajime

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-12th Place

As you may have noticed, most of the shows on this list are aimed at children. The primary reason for this is that most adult cartoons aren’t really that good, and the good ones weren’t made in the 2010s, so I don’t have to talk about them. However, one series I want to talk about is not only aimed at adults, but it’s also a good series in general. Partially for how it goes against what most writers consider to be “adult” in the first place.

#12-Final Space (2018-)

The Plot: After blowing up several space cruisers and a small family-owned Mexican restaurant, Gary Goodspeed is ordered to solitary confinement (alongside a few annoying robots) on a spaceship called the Galaxy One. One day, while making repairs, Gary comes face to face with an adorable alien named Mooncake. Little does he know that his new friend can destroy planets and is also wanted by a tiny dictator called the Lord Commander. Now Gary must protect his new friend, make even more new friends, and save the Earth-no wait-The Universe in the process.

So what separates Final Space from most “adult” animated shows? Well, I should first go over what makes other adult animated series not as good. Most “adult” animation relies on indiscriminate swearing, sexualized content, and treating death and gore as a joke rather than a dramatic tool. On top of that, most adult cartoons are comedies that revert to the status quo with each episode. Not to mention that the majority also have terrible/ugly animation to work with. While most of these things are not meant for kids, that also doesn’t entirely mean they’re mature. If anything, most “adult” animation can be suitable for kids over the age of 12, just as long as they know not to say certain words in front of teachers and family. As for Final Space...yeah, it’s pretty much the same thing. BUT it at least takes a step in the right direction for what most “adult” animations do.

The first and foremost thing to go is the indiscriminate swearing and sexualized content. And by that, I mean that there really isn’t any. The show rarely swears in most of its episodes, and even when it does, it barely counts as inoffensive (minus the occasional usage of the word “dick”). As for the sexualized content, the only thing close to sexualized is Gary’s little captain getting hidden by some object or another. Final Space having the restraint that others seem to lacks amazes me, especially seeing how adult shows use these tactics to get the mature ratings that it needs. Or rather, wants.

As for the death and gore, Final Space actually treats it correctly. When a character dies, for the most part, it is treated with the respect that death deserves. It’s final and always gives the impression that they are never coming back. Death is also treated to show dominance and the strength that certain characters have over the people they’ve killed. As for the gore, there are times when it is treated as a joke, if anything else. For instance (kind of spoilers), Gary losing his arm-which should be a dramatic turning point for his character-is treated as a joke rather than an emotional weight (kind of spoilers done).

Speaking of jokes, while this show may be funny, I’d be more willing to call it a drama. This gives the show a chance to be in a genre other than comedy, which is fitting since there’s rarely an adult animated show that isn’t a comedy. And like most shows, Final Space tries to balance the darkness with the light by making jokes amongst the dramatic beats. That being said, there are occasional jokes that break dramatic tension, but the show does know when to take things seriously. For moments like death and essential character growth, Final Space treats these with the respect they deserve (most of the time).

The drama also helps the show from reverting back to the status quo in its episodes. In fact, there really isn’t a status quo in Final Space. Massive changes happen, and the odds of them changing back to normal are next to none. This does happen in most shows on this list, but it rarely ever does in cartoons for adults. But it impresses me with how different the characters are, both physically and internally, just after 10 whole episodes. That feat alone is admirable.

And then there’s the most impressive thing that this show does better than other “adult” animations, which is the animation/style. Take a look at most adult animations. Most of them are ugly, or they vote to have terrible/realistic animation. Final Space is different because not only does it look gorgeous and aesthetic at times, but its animation is phenomenal. Character movements are fluid, and their expressions are beyond...expressive (Look, there’s no other way to explain it, ok? Just go with it). And when the show attempts to have action, the fight scenes can be downright fun to watch. Even better, at times, this show can have animation quality that can be on par with film, something I can’t really say for some of my favorite shows on this list. Now there can be the occasional animation error (what show doesn’t have them), but that is nothing compared to how good it can look.

However, no show is without its complaints, and Final Space has two problems that need discussing. The most pressing issue is that the main character can be very annoying. And it has everything to do with his voice actor/series creator Olan Rogers. Rogers is clearly trying his best, and I can fully understand why he picked himself as the voice of Gary. Some creators feel that no one can voice some of their characters better than them, so the creator decides to do the job instead. However, because of how inexperienced Rogers is at voice acting, Gary comes across as annoying throughout the first season. Rogers can do a great job in the more dramatic moments (most of the time) but fails in his attempts to make Gary funny or a sincere oddball. This is something that drove most viewers away, and I can definitely see why. But the show at least offers a lot more good than I feel Gary is enough to forgive. Especially since Rogers promised to improve during the second season…speaking of season two.

By the second season, everything I had just praised is practically gone. Death gets treated more and more like a joke, essential changes get reverted back to normal, and worst of all, there’s more filler this time around. There’s rarely anything that I would cut from the story in season one, but in season two? There are entire episodes. But there are still some improvements. The jokes are funnier, the animation is better, and the drama hits even stronger. But if you ask me, if you were barely a fan of season one, odds are you’ll find season two a bit of a step backward.

Overall, I feel as though Final Space is a series most adult shows should take notes on...for the most part. Keep in mind that it isn’t the best adult show on this list (there are three more after this), but if it keeps improving, then odds are it’ll easily be something better. After all, there’s enough space to go around on this list that it deserves the praise it’s given.

(Also, thanks, TBS, for proving that you’re not ready for original animation. Just keep playing reruns of Family Guy. I’m sure that will give you relevance.)

#top 20 of 2010s #final space #what i thought about

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aconitemare · 4 years

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[Rory/Paris] Tacos - Paris

AO3

Summary: “Red, purple, green — where the hell is it?” Paris mutters wildly, and then she’s off across the room again, her hair whipping over her shoulder, the scent of strawberries-and-cream in her wake.

“Perhaps I’ll go blonde,” Rory muses and wonders, briefly, if Paris is trying to find the right panties for her date.

Rory counts Dean’s breaths on the phone. One, two, three, and he says something. She replies back. He laughs softly, and there’s another beat before he says something again. She replies, not fully paying attention to either of them. Behind her, Paris is a flurry of activity. Rory’s eyes keep getting dragged over to her, flashes of long, blonde hair whirling across the cramped floor of their hotel room.

Dean says something again. Rory responds without thought. This is nice. She enjoys this. She enjoys sitting in the chair, listening to Dean and his slow, unwinding laugh and his unhurried words. He talks like they have all the time in the world. And Rory would like that very much, to just always be in this little hotel room, watching Paris bounce off the walls like a pinball while Dean’s soft voice brings home to her.

“My plane gets in at three,” Rory informs, flipping the pen between her fingers. She has a notebook balanced on her thigh, Dean’s name written in the corner with nothing else. Her idea was to simply write down whatever thoughts she had while talking to Dean on the phone, and instead of saying those thoughts, just write them down on the paper and then come up with something else to actually say right now.

But she can’t concentrate on Dean with Paris speculating over the rate of growth concerning stress-induced back acne. This is a legitimate concern of Paris's, and it’s hilarious, because Paris never breaks out. It’s kind of impressive, really, how smooth Paris's skin always is. Rory’s jealous, for sure.

Rory wonders if it’s worth telling Paris this, that Rory envies her. Paris is finally nearing Rory’s chair, her fitted dress changing the square-like silhouette of the Chilton uniform Rory is used to.

“My plane gets in at six,” Dean says.

Rory almost tells Paris that she looks nice, turns around in her seat to tell her that, but Paris is in a fit, throwing scraps of clothing out of her bureau and onto her bed.

“That gives me three hours to look presentable,” Rory tells Dean.

“Red, purple, green — where the hell is it?” Paris mutters wildly, and then she’s off across the room again, her hair whipping over her shoulder, the scent of strawberries-and-cream in her wake.

“Perhaps I’ll go blonde,” Rory muses and wonders, briefly, if Paris is trying to find the right panties for her date.

“I strongly request that you don’t,” Dean says.

But no, Rory realizes with a hint of disappointment. It’s just a bunch of cardigans on Paris's bed. So not her designated panty drawer, like Rory had thought. That would’ve been funnier. Weird place for cardigans, though, the top drawer of her dresser. That seems more of a closet thing, doesn’t it?

She almost says as much to Dean, but he probably wouldn’t know what she was talking about, she’d have to slow down and explain just to capture the sheer chaos that is Paris, and then it would just be weird because she’d be talking about Paris's possible underwear locations to her boyfriend in front of the said Paris. Would that be weird? What even is the proper etiquette here, because Rory would like to think she’s reached a point in both her relationship with Dean and her friendship with Paris where she can feel comfortable to talk to the former about the latter’s underwear.

Dean says something again, something warm and nice and cozy like the bed Rory misses back home, and then Paris has stopped in her mad dash.

“Hey — hey! Stop being cute! I need help here!” Rory swings around in her chair to see Paris's arms lifted above her head, sweeping her hair into a ponytail.

“I have to go,” Rory says immediately. “Paris is having a meltdown.”

“Why?” And Dean’s voice is genuinely curious, which Rory likes. She likes it when others ask about Paris. He’s a good boyfriend to ask.

“She has a date tonight,” Rory answers, biting her tongue on a very funny joke about Paris treating the idea of dating someone with the same severity as a journalist entering an active battlefield in a foreign because the airfare was covered.

Oh, she can tell him that in the letter!

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Paris scolds behind Rory.

Rory turns around again. Paris has her hands on her torso, her long fingers curving over her hips.

“How do you know he sounded surprised?” Rory asks, because there’s no way she can overhear soft-spoken Dean over the cacophony of panic in her mind. Or maybe she can. She’s Paris, after all. She’s always ahead.

“Because I’m a genius, Rory,” Paris retorts, standing in the middle of their room with her hair down again. Now that she’s closer to the light, Rory can make out the faintest tinge of red in her locks. Paris, a strawberry blonde. Who would have thought?

Paris drops her arms with a loud clap against her legs. “I have deep and powerful clairvoyant abilities,” she continues, nodding her head rapidly so that her hair falls over her shoulders, framing the delicate silver necklace above her breast. But her eyes are fierce and irritated, and Rory remembers that despite the bliss granted earlier by her debate victory, Paris has a habit of talking to you like you’re a very stupid child when she’s snapped. Which is the norm for Paris, honestly, with her recent bout of sanity being the true cause for concern.

“Oh, boy,” Rory says, more because well-timed condescension works best to quell Paris's rising venom than out of real dread.

“For example!” Paris commences, “I can instantly deduce that when someone hears the name, ‘Paris,’ in the same sentence with the word, ‘date’ — jaws will drop. Confused looks will cover faces. Words like, ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ and ‘Quick, Bob, get the children in the minivan because the world is obviously coming to an end’ will immediately fly out of people’s mouths!”

Dean’s steady breaths have all but been drowned out by the increasingly loud and hurried words spilling out of Paris. “I have to go,” Rory repeats.

“You sure it’s safe?” Dean asks, and it’s a joke, Rory thinks, but it reminds her of Jess and how everyone thinks she’s in danger from standing too close to passionate people. Like they’re radiating life and she might catch it.

“I’ll be fine,” Rory answers. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you Friday. I love you.”

Paris hits the desk or something and when Rory looks over, her hair has gotten somehow crazier in the last minute and her hair face is red in anger. “That’s it! I’m shaving my head!” she declares.

Something like panic, maybe some shared psychosis thing from Prolonged Paris Exposure, strikes Rory’s heart and she leaps from her seat, throwing Dean a quick “gotta go” before hanging up and covering the distance between them.

“Okay, Paris,” Rory starts out firmly, and then consciously softens her voice, “you have got to calm down. ”

Paris is busying herself with trying to tie a ponytail so punishingly tight that it would put 13th-century Flagellants to shame. “I had a black sweater and now it’s gone,” Paris rushes out, and Rory wishes she could temporarily be inside Paris's head just to make sure that Paris is aware that no lives are at stake over her wardrobe for a date she couldn’t be bothered to stop stuffing her face with a sandwich for when accepting.

“I’m now just talking about right now. In general, you need to calm down.” Rory does her best to inject some authority in her voice. Maybe like their teacher. Max — Mr. Medina, Rory corrects herself — was always good at getting Paris to show up with his magically “we come in peace, Paris Geller” voice.

No such luck here, unfortunately, Rory’s powers to calm remain quite unmagical.

“He’s almost here!” Paris insists, having finally wrangled her hair into submission. “I’m not dressed, my makeup’s not done, and I haven’t gone through the Zagat yet to pick a restaurant!”

Rory has to give it to her, that’s a lot to do in a very short amount of time. This may be one of those rare moments where Paris is genuinely underprepared and not just indiscriminately anxious. Although still, she could win awards for the sheer height of this mountain she’s managed to build from one humble molehill.

“Why don’t you just let him pick out the restaurant?” This is the easiest problem to fix. And besides, he asked her out, he should have know. The asker-outer is the one responsible for the first date itinerary.

Unfortunately, Paris's brows only crumple further down her nose, which Rory has the passing thought is quite straight and elegant. What is Paris, a prize horse? Who likes noses? Should Rory be thinking about noses more, if this is going to be a thing for her?

“What if he doesn’t have a Zagat?” Paris asks, and Rory is almost certain he doesn’t have one because Rory wasn’t aware of the critical existence of the Zagat until her and Paris shacked up together. Or, no, that’s the wrong phrase. That’s something grandma would say about a couple she didn’t like.

“Well then, he’ll wing it.”

Cohabiting? Yikes. Roomed? Yeah, that’s what it is. Bunked. Even better. She wishes her mom were here to discuss this terminology with.

“‘Wing it’?” Paris demands. Rory nods, and this sets Paris off. Damn. “How come other girls get planned out dinners?” she asks, and Rory would point out that she may actually be getting a planned-out dinner, that Rory has no idea Jamie’s degree of Zagatness or general knowledge of the city they’ve been in for months, but there is no stopping a speeding train.

“Roses, candy, rose petals thrown on the floor — and I get ‘wing it’!” Paris exclaims.

Rory shoots for an optimistic smile and says, “Well, you don’t know that you’ve got ‘wing it.’” And who gets rose petals on the first date? Should Rory be getting rose petals? Probably not, she’s not really a rose petals girl, although apparently Paris is, and Rory does wish her the best in this quest for de-limbed flowers. Paris deserves them.

“No, I do, I’ve got ‘wing it,’” says Paris. She looks down at the ground then. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Rory asks, because there’s a lot at the moment that Paris seems like she can’t do. Reading the Zagat, for example.

“Date,” is what Paris says instead, however. “I can’t date ,” she repeats, heavy weight falling on the last word. “I’m not genetically set up for it.”

And there’s the resigned self-hatred that always gets Rory to care in the end, because even though Paris isn’t much of a puppy, Rory still gets no pleasure in kicking her.

Rory’s brows pinch. Correction: she gets no pleasure in seeing Paris kick herself. That’s just wrong, after all, and totally in defiance of the checks and balances overachievers like Paris need. “Not true,” Rory gently assures, because if Paris does all the kicking, there will be none of her left when it’s Rory’s turn. How will she ever be able to put Paris back in her place if all she can think of is the time Paris cancelled her first and only date when he was right outside the door so she could cry into many different colored cardigans?

Paris leans forward with her eyes bugging out as if she can impress upon Rory, through proximity, the scientific veracity of undateable genes. “I get no pleasure out off the prospect or the preparation. I’m covered in hives. I’ve showered four times and for what? Some guy who doesn’t even have the brains to buy a Zagat so we don’t wind up in a restaurant that’s REALLY just a front for a cocaine-laundering ring?”

Paris's speech begins over-enunciated and gradually picks up speed until it’s just a slur of sounds vaguely Germanic in origin. There’s no way Rory is calming her down at this point. It’s time for action. They are now women of action. Rory rests both her palms on Paris's shoulder and pushes her down so that Paris's butt lands at the edge of her bed.

“Sit,” she orders and heads to the desk. She gathers Paris's open makeup kit while behind her, Paris rambles on.

“It’s a dare. He was dared to take me out.” And Paris's tone implies she thinks she’s onto something. “I bet Trent Lott was behind this.”

Rory sits down on the small bed beside Paris. “Trent Lott did not dare Jamie to take you out,” Rory says without inflection, having now acquired a solution to implement that doesn’t require cycling through tones until she finds the Magical Medina one that compels Paris to hold all her questions till the end.

When Rory twists around, eyeshadow and brush in hand, Paris is fully turned into her, legs crossed and hands on the small space between their laps.

“Close,” Rory instructs, and Paris does without argument, an instant flutter of eyes. On command, her face smooths out, making herself a canvas for Rory. And Rory, for her part, doesn’t linger in the scant air between their faces, doesn’t think about how she never imagined Paris would trust her enough with her face or do something just because Rory said to.

Rory chooses a light lavender color to tie the pink roses of her dress with the black lace lining her shoulders and chest.

“Jamie likes you, and he asked you out because he likes you. Now look up.”

Again, just like that, Paris's eyes flutter open to stare at the ceiling. They’re a deep, dark brown that Jamie might even find soulful. Rory would call them intense. She adds a hint of eyeshadow to the corners of Paris's eyes, not for any reason in particular, as she’s going so light you can barely see it. But she likes the effect anyway, she thinks, because Paris's eyes do look pretty, upturned and blown wide and not staring Rory down but looking where she tells her to.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go. I mean, what if I fall for him and he doesn’t like me?”

“Then you’ll find someone else,” Rory says simply, because it’s true. Paris could leave her date tonight and find someone within the hour. She’s beautiful in a way she’s not at Chilton. If Tristan had seen Paris like this, in this rosy dress that brings out the soft blush of her skin, that dips low so you can see the wild rise and fall of her breaths — well, maybe Jamie wouldn’t have had the chance to. So it’s for the best that Paris is in her and Rory’s room smelling of strawberries and cream for the first time, and not somewhere else before they had been.

Not quite friends.

Paris's voice is quiet now and a little tremulous. “But what if there is no one else?”

Rory doesn’t think that’s a terrible option. She sets the eyeshadow down. “Then you’ll buy some cats,” she answers, grinning, because Paris brings out the cruelty in her.

This is evidently not the right answer, though, because Paris's breath hitches and her next sentence is more forceful. “I wish knew if he was right for me, you know? So I don’t — put myself through all of this for nothing? I mean, women fall for men who are wrong for them all of the time, and then they get sidetracked from their goals.”

Rory concentrates on getting the bronzer onto the puffball and does not think about the day of her mom’s college graduation, or how Rory sat on a bus for hours thinking of nothing but how hard her mom had worked for this after everything with dad in high school, and whether Louise was actually going to send her the notes she had missed from cutting school to be with the boy her mom hated.

“They give up careers and become alcoholics,” Paris continues, “and — if you’re Sunny von Bulow — wake up in a coma, completely incapable of stopping Glenn Close from playing you in a movie.”

Rory determinedly listens to none of this, merely brushes Paris's high cheekbones with a layer of bronzer that transforms Paris in seconds from the primrose princess she had dressed herself as and into something much older and dangerous.

Rory’s eyes safely navigate away from Paris's face to her shoulders, near where her long ponytail whispers at her neck. When Paris stops talking, Rory announces, “I think you should wear your hair down,” and stands up to correct this.

“How do know if a guy’s right for you?” Paris asks. Rory already has her fingers up, slowly working their way into the elastic so she doesn’t accidentally pull too hard.

“You just have to feel it,” Rory says and hopes she comes off more confident than she is. Paris's hair falls out effortlessly once she finds the right looseness, and it pours through Rory’s fingers like satin.

“All I feel is my back breaking out,” Paris says miserably.

Rory runs her fingers through the tresses of blonde hair, separating them into thirds and combing through them. “You’ll know, okay? You just have to let it happen.” Rory drapes some of Paris's hair over her shoulder, letting the waves cascade down her the expanse of warm skin exposed by the low neckline.

She parts more of Paris's hair, arranging the new section so it comes down her other shoulder. “And then, probably when you’re not looking, you’ll find someone who... complements you,” Rory settles on.

Paris does not sound sold, though. “Meaning?”

Rory allows herself to play a few seconds more with Paris's hair before retrieving the brush. “Someone who likes what you like, or listens to the same music,” she explains, beginning the brush at the crown of Paris's head and following through to the ends. “Or likes to trash the same movies,” she adds, because now Reversal of Fortune is on her mind and it was somehow both audacious and popcorn-binge-inducing levels of boring.

“Someone compatible,” Rory concludes. But then she remembers Dean, Dean who likes every book Rory likes, who Rory hadn’t kissed like her heart was in his mouth that day at Sookie’s wedding. She adds, “But not so compatible that they’re boring.”

“Someone who’s compatible but not compatible,” Paris says slowly, like it’s a math problem. And maybe it is to Paris, who tends to look at the world like it’s a miscalculation she can’t figure out or a test she didn’t study for.

But Paris looks so human now, made of pinks and golds, lace and satin. Skin and breath. “Yeah, kind of,” Rory answers. She fancies herself a bit of a teacher at the moment, though she never would’ve pictured Paris a willing student. It’s a nice thought, Rory having a hand in softening Paris.

She suddenly wants to see Paris's face, just to know if there’s something different about it. She comes around the bed. “I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes,” she explains, brushing her fingers through Paris's hair. She does look softer, Rory thinks, and it’s almost staggering to realize that she’s petting Paris Geller’s hair — and Paris isn’t growling or trying to bite Rory’s arm off.

Hot and cold, this girl, Rory muses, this maybe-friend who sabotages her every move at The Franklin then shows up at her house with stress-red eyes needing a study buddy. Who dresses up like Romeo then forgets the kiss.

Rory slides the brush through Paris's hair, pays attention to the way the gold shines in the dim light of their room, how it brushes against her rosy skin. “But I don’t know, there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s going to do at all times,” she admits. “It’s just really — exciting. ”

When Rory looks at Paris, though, Paris is smiling. Grinning, actually, with her brown eyes lit up in some emotion Rory thinks she’s seen before but somewhere else, not here, never between them.

Rory drops her hands from Paris's hair and steps back. She feels like she’s walked too far off in an unfamiliar place and needs to retrace her steps. “Look, just have a good time,” she says, waving the hairbrush before whirling around to the desk. “You’ll figure it out.”

There’s a black jacket draped over the chair near it, flowers embroidered across the fabric. Perfect. Rory grabs it.

“Yeah, well, I hope I figure it out fast,” Paris says, sounding a lot more glum now than she had seemed just seconds prior. “Before I throw up.” She’s smoothing the wrinkles in her dress out, hands gliding down her thighs. But her eyes are on the floor.

Rory helps her into the jacket before Paris can spiral into her next mood. Whatever it is, Rory thinks she might have caught it. Maybe her mom was right about “empaths” and “sharing people’s energy.” It would stand to reason Rory would feel so off from Paris. Paris has a lot of energy all the time . She’s all over the place, and she's been all over the place Rory lives in for the past three months.

A knock sounds at the door. Paris's head snaps up like an alarmed gazelle on the Nature channel. “That’s him,” she says, resignation mixed with a touch of dread.

Rory clasps her hands together. “Turn around?” she requests.

Paris obliges, straightening her jacket as she faces Rory. Rory envisions Jamie opening the door and seeing her. She wonders how Paris will look to him, if he’ll think she’s pretty, if he’ll not know quite what to make of her standing like this — in smooth satin, with lavender eyelids.

“Well?” Paris prods.

Rory works her jaw. “Perfect.”

Paris's brown eyes are imploring, almost puppyish. “Promise?” she asks, like Rory might not actually find Paris beautiful. Like it’s important Rory does.

“Swear,” Rory says as solemnly as possible.

“Thanks,” says Paris. There’s a moment where Paris looks so impossibly soft and open that Rory feels she’s stepped into another world. She almost steps forward, too, before the door apparently closes because Paris suddenly orders, “Now get in the closet.”

Rory’s heart freezes in her chest while her mind hurriedly rewinds the conversation, checking for errors, slips, any evidence that maybe she’s gone too far, said too much when she should’ve stayed quiet. “What?”

“If he comes in here and sees you, he won’t want to date me anymore.”

“Paris, that’s crazy. He’s seen me. He’s seen me for weeks.”

“Yes. In conference halls, crowded lecture halls, badly lit banquet rooms with crappy food smells — not at night when it’s dating time and he’s thinking about dating and you’re standing there, looking all dateable.”

Rory’s face scrunches. She’s wearing an orange t-shirt with a giant 76 embroidered across the front. She doesn’t even know what 76 is for, she has no memory of ever even buying the shirt and is fairly certain it materialized in the wash in the same way socks disappear from the dryer. “I’m not looking dateable.”

“Please? I can’t risk it — at least if there’s nothing to compare me to, then I’ve got a fighting chance,” Paris says with a glossy, trembling lip. How long has Paris thought Rory looked dateable? Just today, with this shirt? They see each other every day, they wake up feet apart in their pajamas, and Rory doesn’t think she looks all that different now than she did this morning.

There’s another knock at the door, this one louder and longer, and any irritation Rory feels is snuffed out by the look Paris shoots her. Rory lets out a sigh and tries not to drag her feet too much, but she dutifully grabs her notebook and a flashlight on the off-chance Jamie takes his time getting out of here. “When you get home, you need to get a new therapist, because the one you have is really not working.” Then she walks towards the closet like a complete fool and lets Paris close the door on her.

Rory expects Paris to immediately answer the door with Rory out of the way, but she actually hesitates a few seconds. Rory can see her shadow through the bottom crack of the door. Paris takes a deep breath, then says, “Thanks for helping me get ready.”

For a quick second Rory should probably be ashamed of, she wishes she had messed up Paris's makeup. She wishes Paris wasn’t on the other side right now, looking perfect as she closes Rory’s door and opens Jamie’s.

“Any time,” Rory dully answers.

“Hi, ” she hears Paris say. Jamie says, “Hello,” and it’s the dumbest reply Rory can think of. Hullo. He follows up with the generic compliment, “You look very nice.” So much for exciting.

Rory has to bite back a laugh when Paris replies, “This is a really good sweater,” with astounding awkwardness.

“So, shall we get going?”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

“Do you like Italian food?”

Rory rolls her eyes in the dark, but Paris merely says, “I love Italian food.”

“Good. I’ve made a reservation at a great place. Or, at least, that’s what the Zagat guide says.”

Rory wants to set this stupid Zagat on fire. Paris nearly exhales on a dreamy “you’re perfect” to him. Rory’s heart plummets. She lets herself sink to the floor, knees pressed against the closed door, even though she can hear them leaving already.

So, she stays in the closet and opens her notebook, flashlight balanced so she can look at the pages. Dean’s name is still at the top, but all she can think to talk about is Paris. Maybe Dean would be okay with that, but maybe he wouldn’t. Talking about Paris isn’t the same as talking about Lane. And she doesn’t want to talk about Paris right now, anyway, not really. She’s annoyed with herself, because certainly a lot more has happened to her over the summer that Dean would think is cool, but all she can come up with is that time Rory convinced Paris to try street tacos with her, after some particularly crappy conference food, and Paris admitted that Rory had good instincts.

Maybe she could talk to Dean about Zagat guides. Although Jess would have more to say. And he would even point out how stupid and unnecessary they were. She moves down the page, writes Jess across a line, and beneath that, writes Tacos - Paris.

She stares at all the names on the page for a long time. Then, figuring screw it, writes beneath both columns:

Joke about Paris on the battlefield

Zagat guides - useless?

Blonde hair - y/no?

Orange t-shirts - dateable?

She knocks her head back against the wall and switches the flashlight off. “Perfect,” she says aloud. In her head, Paris asks, Promise?

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #paris geller #gellermore #paris x rory #rory x paris #fanfiction for the void

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raendown · 4 years

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5483 Chapter: 41/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

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Chapter 41

The first time he sat at the desk he thought to himself that it was much too grand. Hashirama had made it, of course, just as Hashirama had used his mokuton to create another top floor of the administration tower, one very large room to sit atop all the rest, the official command center of everything visible from the massive windows lining one entire wall. And to fit such a large room there needed to be a large desk. Tobirama swiveled in his new chair and peeked over one shoulder. Of all the things he hated about this office, the fact that his back now faced the windows probably bothered him the most. Just another thing to get used to.

Kagami’s face popping out from underneath the desk brought his attention back along with a smile. If anyone was having fun in his new real estate it was the little scamp he called a student.

“No one could ever find me down here!” the boy declared. “It’s like a whole fort! Or a cave!”

“Yes, it is a bit big, isn’t it?”

“It’s awesome!”

Lifting his face to gaze around the room, Tobirama hummed. “Not the word I would have chosen but I appreciate your enthusiasm all the same.”

Everything in the room was brand new, an honor he had only been blessed with once in his life when he was shown to his matrimonial home for the first time. Even the chairs across the desk for visitors were new and the couch on the other side of the room which he assumed was Hashirama's unsubtle way of saying they all knew he was going to overwork himself at some point. He might as well have a place to crash when he did. It was flattering to be gifted so many things no matter the intentions behind them and yet as he took it all in again Tobirama couldn’t help but miss the familiarity of his old office, the desk that always felt too small and yet had everything he needed available within arm’s reach, the chair that squeaked if he turned too fast but sat at just the right elevation to keep his knees from aching.

Whoever chose this new chair had obviously gone for size over comfort; it was probably big enough to swallow even Hashirama's massive frame.

“Kaasan says you’re really important now,” his protégé announced, popping up from under the desk again. “More important than anyone else in the village – except for me. She says I’ll always be the most important.” Kagami puffed out his chest and Tobirama couldn’t help but smile a little wider for him.

“She is right about that.”

“What’s a Hokage? She says you’re the very first Hokage but I’ve never heard that word before and the old lady next door came over before I could ask.”

Fingers drumming against the dark wood before him, Tobirama considered how to explain the concept. “It means that the people of Konoha have chosen me as their leader. Almost the same way that the Daimyo is the ultimate authority of Hi no Kuni except I’m only in charge of one village, thank the spirits.”

Just the thought of having to deal with any more idiocy than he was already going to now made him shudder.

“Oooh. So you’re really super important!”

“Against my own will, I assure you,” Tobirama drawled.

“You have to be extra careful then, right? Are you going to have guards now like the Daimyo does? My Obasan says the Daimyo never goes anywhere without at least three of his guards to protect him in case someone tries to come and hurt him. Maybe you should do that!” Kagami’s fingers curled over the arm of his chair, his eyes so wide and earnest one might never guess his training had progressed so well he could almost be considered as deadly as a fully grown adult.

With a shake of his head, Tobirama huffed. “I don’t think I would enjoy that very much.”

“Now, now,” Madara's voice pitched in as the door clicked open. “The kid’s got a good idea building there. We’ve already lost two leaders and I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping that you survive longer than a single year in office. Maybe we should talk to Izuna about working something out with his ANBU.”

“Is that truly necessary?” Pleasant as it was to see his husband, he wasn’t thrilled to have the man add his two cents to this ridiculousness.

Madara hefted the box between his hands a little higher but not too high to cover the disgustingly contemplative look on his face. What a terrible look. Tobirama already knew he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever plans came out of that expression. Getting tricked in to this job was bad enough, did they really need to add more restrictions and annoyances on top of it all?

“Sensei! Hey sensei!” Kagami tugged on his sleeve to get his attention again. “Can I be one of your guards?”

“You?”

“Uh-huh! I want to protect sensei!”

“I see.” Fighting the urge to melt, hoping his face betrayed nothing of his gooey inner feelings, Tobirama gave his student a pat on the arm. “When you’re a little older we can talk about it. You’re still a bit young for ANBU or guard squads just yet but I’m sure you’ll make a fine guard when you get there.” He couldn’t deny that the thought of his own protégé growing up to stand as his protector was adorably heart-warming.

Madara grunted as he set his box down in one corner of the room, lifting the lid to check on the contents inside. From a distance it looked as though it were full of scrolls and that meant more paperwork. Wonderful. Tobirama was starting to wonder if he might drown under it all before anyone thought to remember the archives built in to the basement floors right underneath their feet. He took at least a small amount of consolation from watching Madara's arms flex, somehow bullied in to doing most of the heavy lifting as they tried to get everything set up in this new office.

“How are you settling in?” his husband asked, closing the box and straightening up.

“Already planning my escape routes, if you must know,” Tobirama admitted. To his credit he was only half serious. Right from the moment he stepped in to the room he’d been planning escape routes but no matter how much he griped he knew that he would see this duty through.

The people had spoken. Just because he thought they had all taken collective leave of their senses by choosing him didn’t mean he was going to spit in their faces for making such a poor decision.

“Oh, I don’t know, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine when I saw you earlier. Bossing the whole council of elders around like that? I wish I’d realized that was a perk of the job, I might have fought you for it!” Madara chuckled to himself while Tobirama grumbled darkly under his breath. If they’d had to fight for the position it would have been a short battle; he would have forfeited immediately.

“Did any of them speak to you about it?” He asked, curious to know if they were already pushing back against his authority. Thankfully Madara shook his head.

“I don’t think they were upset, mostly just shocked.” He shrugged. “They’re all clan heads and elders and heirs. Most of them have all but forgotten what it means to answer to an actual higher authority.”

Kagami tilted his head. “Kaasan says I still have to listen to you, does that mean you’re a higher authority too Madara-sama?”

“Higher than you, brat!”

“Behave, children,” Tobirama drawled.

“Are you calling me a child!?”

“You’re acting like one.”

The little giggle at his side only made it all the funnier to watch Madara harrumph, moodily crossing his arms in a pretense of ignoring them both.

It wasn’t all that much longer before Kagami grew bored, however, and Tobirama was more than happy to reach out with his senses and point the boy to wherever his mother had wandered off to. After cheerful waves, drawn out goodbyes, and a half dozen promises that he would be back in a little while the boy tottered off to leave his teacher and clan head alone on the top floor. Without him the room felt as though it had just a little less energy, like he’d taken it with him when he left. The feeling made Tobirama sigh. He wasn’t supposed to be middle aged for at least another decade.

His cousin had always teased him that he’d been born an old man.

“Are you disappearing in to your head already?” Madara broke in to his thoughts.

“Perhaps a little.”

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Struggling to find the words, Tobirama drummed his fingers against the wood again. “Just…realizing that perhaps this job will have a few benefits that I might not have considered until now. Kagami may have escaped the necessity of attending the new academy but he’s hardly the only young impressionable mind out there. I was thinking that it might be nice having the chance to guide the next generation.”

“You’re gonna be a bit busy for taking on any more students, I think.”

“I meant leading by example but thank you for the reminder that my free time has been effectively dismissed for the foreseeable future.” He glared but Madara only chuckled and trundled across the floor towards him.

Tobirama wondered briefly if he was aware that he walked exactly like his own sensei, a habit most likely built entirely without conscious decision. Then he found himself distracted as the man slipped in to his lap and that was much more interesting to think about than walking patterns or anything else really.

“Out of all of us I think you’re the best choice to guide the people,” Madara told him.

“Because I’m the smartest?”

“Hey! I’m smart! I don’t just mean because of your overly big brain. I mean because you have all the qualities that we need. Only instead of having those qualities spread out they’re all together in one person.”

Confused, Tobirama frowned in to the middle distance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know how Hashirama makes a good leader because he really listens to people? And I’m a good leader because I think ahead and try to consider how things will affect more than just myself. Touka’s a good leader because she knows who to delegate to and trusts her captains. But the people of Konoha chose your butt for that seat because they know that you have all of those things – and more. Not only that but anyone who’s worked with you before knows that you’re not going to waste time trying to prove anything; you’ve already proven what you can do.”

For almost a minute breathing deeply was all Tobirama could do, unsure how to function under the weight of so much blind trust. Except it wasn’t blind, he supposed, if so many people seemed to think that he had already shown these qualities.

“I’m not even twenty yet,” he pointed out very quietly. “Not even twenty and I stand authoritatively above the people who have decades more experience than I do.”

“They’ve also had decades of getting set in their ways,” Madara pointed out. He was right, of course. The council of elders were rather infamous for being a bunch of stubborn bastards.

“Did they vote? They would have been allowed to unless they put their name on the ballot but I can’t even begin to guess who they might have thrown their support behind.” Tobirama knew as well as anyone else how many different opinions there could be in just one room when the whole council gathered. Having less than no control over the outcome, he hadn’t even bothered to check and see how many names were on the final list to be voted on or how the numbers had tallied.

“You’re not going to like this. But I think most of them voted you in. Which means that most of them will have no trouble at all following wherever you lead them.”

He wrinkled his nose. Madara was right, he didn’t like that. If there had been dissent in the ranks he might have held on to the faintest hope of impeachment but alas. Apparently he really was stuck here.

“If you could go back in time,” Tobirama murmured, “back to the night before our marriage or even the day we were betrothed, would you? If you had the chance would you tell yourself what was to come?” He could feel the other man’s eyes on him but didn’t bother to meet them, busy as he was asking himself the same question. It was something that had been on his mind lately but no matter how much he turned it over in his mind he never seemed to land on one answer. His husband, evidently, was much more decisive than him.

“No,” Madara answered after a few heartbeats.

Tobirama finally looked over at him again. “Just like that? No?”

“I’m proud of the journey we went through together. If I have known that everything was going to turn out alright then maybe I wouldn’t have tried so hard to get to know who you really are. And then maybe I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. What we went through was a long process but it was…necessary, I think.”

With a hum he pulled Madara in for a kiss. “Look at you being all wise. I think I’ll make you my chief advisor.”

Before his partner could scowl and grumble that he’d already accepted the role of chief advisor there came a knock at the door and both of them scrambled to separate themselves. His first day in office was not the time to be starting rumors of defiling the place or anything so scandalous. Only when it opened a moment later to admit Hashirama's smiling face did he remember that he could have just stretched his senses again and he would have known whether or not they needed to panic.

“Hello!” His brother called out in greeting, wiggling the fingers of his free hand. With the other he carried something large made of clean red and white cotton.

“Dare I ask what you have there?” Tobirama grumbled.

“You’ll like this! I thought you should have a badge of status or something so I made you a special Hokage’s hat!”

Something dark like horror filled him as Hashirama pressed the hat in to his hands to be inspected from all angles. It was massive and well-crafted with a veil of white hanging down to protect the back of his neck from sight. When he looked back up his brother was beaming at him with pride, innocent and entirely empty of any ill intentions.

“Thanks,” Tobirama told him. “I hate it.” Hashirama wilted like a flower.

“But I designed it myself!”

“Ah, that must be why it’s so hideous.”

“So mean!”

Madara snatched the thing out of his hands and flipped it around. “I mean, at least he used the right kanji for fire. Carrying around a spelling mistake over your forehead wouldn’t be a great impression to make on any newcomers.”

“I thought it was really nice,” Hashirama sniffed.

“You wouldn’t know style if it ran up and bit your wife on the bottom.” Tobirama sighed, eyeing the new accessory in mourning. His words were unkind and yet he just knew he was going to be guilted in to wearing it at some point. For all his bluster he was soft like that for the ones he loved.

After sticking out his tongue Hashirama snatched the hat back for himself and began picking off invisible bits of lint. “You’ve really grown up since we came here, you know? Even if you say mean things I know what you really feel. So I wanted to get you something that would remind you whenever you need it how proud I am of everything you’ve become.”

He peeked up with those big brown eyes and for a moment Tobirama could only damn his own heart for clenching inside his chest. Those words meant so much more to him than he would ever be able to admit.

The two of them were all they had left, really. He was closer to Touka, even Hashirama knew that, but she would never mean quite the same thing to him as his immediate family did. She would never be the brothers that crawled in to bed with him when the nightmares woke them, the quiet voices that whispered their secrets when father wasn’t around. There was something irreplaceable in Hashirama as the last of his siblings that not even Touka could ever be.

Of course, in a way, Hashirama had been the last of his family long before Butsuma passed away. Watching his brother mourn a man who treated them as little better than soldiers had been a strangely painful thing. Like watching him grieve for something that had never been, a dream that fades at waking yet leaves behind some deep impossible yearning. He couldn’t help but want to take the man in a gentle embrace and explain to him that it was all so much wasted emotion but he knew better than that, knew that Hashirama needed to expel these feelings to move on, and so he’d been doing his best to simply stay away from the subject.

“I appreciate the gift,” he murmured eventually, trusting that his brother would understand what he was really trying to say. Hashirama smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair.

“You deserve the whole world, do you know that?”

“Do try to praise me whilst keeping your hands to yourself,” Tobirama grumbled.

Madara snickered so he turned to glare at his husband too, though the man didn’t seem all that terrified by his ire.

Surprisingly Hashirama didn’t stay all that long. Despite his usual habit of dragging every conversation out three times longer than it needed to be he ducked out fairly quickly once he was sure his gift wouldn’t be shredded as soon as he was out of sight. Either he had developed a new enthusiasm for paperwork overnight or he was having a bit too much fun deciding how to decorate his own new space. In an effort to prevent either man from sitting in the echoes of unwanted memories Madara and Hashirama had each moved in to the now empty offices of each others’ predecessors. Evidently his brother had been enjoying the chance to fill once blank walls with tacky décor.

“A quick visit, that,” Madara noted as well once they were alone again.

“Indeed. And I do believe I’d like to make my own visit quick. All I wanted was to come familiarize myself with the new office, I didn’t mean to make a full day of it. There will be plenty of days ahead for me to be trapped in here.” He sighed just thinking about it

When they left Tobirama was careful to leave that horrendous hat behind, tucking it off in a random corner and hoping that no one else would notice it before he had time to think of a better hiding spot. Having his ears frozen in a biting wind was preferable to wearing that monstrosity. He entertained himself instead with the smug look on his husband’s face as they made their way home. In almost the same way Hashirama's regard had done, Madara's overwhelming pride to walk at his side touched him in ways he refused to speak out loud, warming him from the inside out to see how his partner puffed up like a happy peacock even though the citizens passing them by weren’t paying their respects to him.

He deflated only slightly about halfway home when his steps faltered with the expression of someone who just thought of something they were supposed to remember several hours ago.

“Didn’t Kagami say he was coming back at some point?” he asked. Tobirama waved him off with a quiet smile.

“We both know he’s already forgotten. I can feel him dashing around the marketplace with his friends; he’s not going to be thinking of his boring sensei for quite some time.”

“You’re not boring,” Madara said. “Kagami doesn’t think so either. He wants to grow up to be just like you.”

“Poor taste,” Tobirama noted.

His husband thwacked him on the arm, never one to appreciate a bit of good self-deprecation, and then his expression turned hesitant. A bit thoughtful. “If he’s distracted it usually takes him a while to remember what he was supposed to be doing. So you’re saying I have you all to myself for now?”

“It seems that way, yes.”

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to, ah, take advantage of that?”

Heat shot through his body, very different from the subtle warmth he’d been floating in before. This was a fire, a burn, a tightness in his belly that made him quicken his steps in such a way that turned Madara's ears pink with a mixture of shame and pleasure. He’d brought it on himself really. If he was going to offer such things Tobirama was not the sort of man who would turn him down.

Conversation was a bit stilted from then on as they continued. Now that they had a reason to hurry it felt as though half the population wanted to stop and offer Tobirama their congratulations and as touched as he was to see so many people supporting him all he really wanted was for the lot of them to go away so he could bend his husband over the nearest piece of furniture. Madara kept his mouth shut for the most part, nodding along when anyone asked him if he wasn’t just the proudest he could possibly be, clammed up tight as though he hadn’t just been strutting about like a peacock five minutes before.

If nothing else the amusement of watching his desperation mount higher and higher was almost worth feeling the same.

Tobirama could feel that his gait had gotten a little stiff by the time they both pushed inside their home. When Madara pressed him back against the wall of the genkan he struggled to return the affections while also kicking off one of his boots, uncaring for the snow and slush that he must be splashing everywhere. Not even the feeling of cold water soaking in to his socks was enough to deter him from pulling the other man closer by the hips and grinding their bodies together.

Fighting their way out of the various boots and coats and scarves protecting them from the weather outside took much longer than Tobirama would have liked, long enough that when they were free at last to stumble their way inside the rest of the house he simply didn’t have the patience to move any farther than the couch. Out of all the times he had jokingly threatened to bend this man over their various pieces of furniture he’d only ever been about half-serious a few times. Having had no experience before their relationship, Madara seemed to consider intimacy anywhere but their actual bed to be filthy in the same way he thought of spanking as incredibly kinky.

He didn’t seem to have any complaints about filth or shame at the moment as he was pushed up against the back of their couch. Lewd sounds of appreciation spilled from his lips as his fingers pulled at whatever pieces of cloth they had the coordination to latch on to.

“Should have brought the damn hat,” he mumbled in the non-existent space between them.

“You cannot tell me you found it attractive?” Tobirama meant for his words to come out as a demand. Instead they were breathless, absent, whispers soaking in to pale skin as he moved down his husband’s neck.

“Not really- nnh, feels good. S’just, dunno, it’s kind of hot that I’m…sleeping with the Hokage?”

Tobirama pulled away far enough to stare in to his partner’s eyes, drinking in the way Madara shivered under his gaze. If the look on his face was even half as hungry as the heat in his belly then he couldn’t blame the man.

“Oh?” he purred. “Does my beloved husband have an authority kink?”

“S-shut up.” Madara turned his head away but his protests had very little impact when followed with a deep moan, body melting under the sensation of teeth scraping along the lines of his neck.

Nipping his way up just far enough to nibble on a defenseless earlobe, Tobirama allowed himself a vicious smirk. Finally a preference to work with. This alone was more than worth the trouble of being forced in to the limelight. With a sharp nip that drew a gasp he whispered in a voice that rasped with all the want inside him on naked display.

“Don’t tell me what to do; you’re not in charge right now, anata.” When Madara shivered under him Tobirama felt bold enough to add, “Turn around.”

“Need to reach over here anyway,” his husband mumbled as though to justify following the directions they both knew he wanted to anyway. As soon as he had spun to face the couch back he was stretching one arm out and leaning over to wriggle his fingers, trying desperately to reach the little tub of lotion he’d taken to leaving out for the evenings when dry fingers began to crack and bleed in to whatever book he was reading.

“How resourceful of you,” Tobirama praised him.

Although he was kind enough not to comment on the blush that followed his words he was slave enough to his own hormones to enjoy it, reveling in the knowledge that it was him and only him who could put such heat on that face. Married men they might be but that did nothing to stop many eyes in the village from admiring a shapely form and Tobirama knew exactly how many others wished they could be in his position right at this moment.

Which only made it all the more delicious listening to his own name fill the room in a desperate chant as he spread the man open and pressed inside, curling over Madara's body with some half-formed animal drive to keep him safe. His teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure, skin prickling where the chill of the room warred with the heat of their joining, Tobirama rocked his hips in an impatient rhythm. The world around them was lost to his consciousness as he took and took and gave back everything he had. Every gasp and cry that fell from his husband’s lips was a sweet chorus calling for more, a call he was all too happy to answer.

Curled so tightly as he already was, it took little more than a tilt of his head to whisper against the shell of Madara's ear, hips snapping with every rock forward.

“I love you,” he breathed. Madara whined, legs stiffening as he too drew close to the edge. “I want only you like this; I want no one else to ever see you in these moments. Come for me, anata.”

“Gods.” His husband gave up holding his own weight and folded to allow the couch to bear their movements. Tobirama tightened his fingers on the hips in his grasp and bit an ear already hot and fever red.

“Do as I say, hm? Come for your Hokage.”

Later he might ruminate over the possibility that Madara's arousal had been triggered by the idea that no one else had ever stood above him in authority like this before, a thrilling new dynamic he hadn’t encountered until he was outranked by his own husband. But that was later. In this moment Tobirama choked on his own breath as Madara clamped down around him and cried out in a filthy rasp that tumbled both of them in to ecstasy.

In the brief seconds when the world turned white and fuzzy Tobirama knew only the clutch of the passage stealing his sanity and the husky mantra of his own name, the sensation of Madara's body quaking beneath his own. Fading back in to reality came with the realization that he was also mumbling over and over, sweet nothings and praises, every secret emotion inside his heart slipping between his lips as though the very world depended on him to fill the air with such nonsense. It took effort but he managed to clench his teeth and silence himself in the damp skin of his partner’s neck.

“Never ever speak of this,” Madara's voice grumbled quietly.

“Of the incredible sex we just had?” Tobirama asked without moving. “I’m hardly the type to brag about my exploits, you know.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just- you can’t- no making fun of me for this!”

With one eyebrow already lifting Tobirama cracked his eyes open. “Nor am I the type to mock you for your preferences. I am, however, going to shamelessly exploit them. If you thought I wasn’t going to take advantage of that little slip then I regret to say you may have misjudged me, anata.”

Madara's answering grunt sounded more like eager capitulation than a protest.

Cleaning up after themselves was slightly more awkward in the living room with no master bathroom a mere handful of steps away but eventually Tobirama managed to sort them both out enough that they could collapse down on to the sofa together where he found himself trapped in one corner as Madara leaned back against him with loose limbs and heavily lidded eyes.

“Falling asleep on me?”

“No. I’m just resting my eyes for a bit.”

“Ah, I see.” Tobirama smiled, running his fingers through the mane of hair between them. “Strangely enough I think you may have been right about all this.”

“Well that’s not something I hear very often. Are you feeling alright? You don’t normally admit when I’m right.”

Smacking him gently on the arm did nothing but elicit a snicker but Tobirama didn’t have the energy to do anything other than roll his eyes. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much. All I meant was that perhaps this detestably unwanted duty may not be as terribly bad as it seems. With you supporting me I think everything will turn out alright.”

“I will always support you,” Madara told him quietly.

Feeling his heart clench inside his chest, Tobirama bent his neck to press a kiss against the back of his partner’s head.

“I know. And I will always be lucky to have you.”

“Damn straight you’re lucky to have me. I am quite the catch.” Madara harrumphed and rolled his head as though trying and failing to gather the energy for a flip of his impressive hair.

Tobirama said nothing but in his silence there was an agreement. He might not say it aloud very often but he did recognize precisely how blessed he was. Not only to have a man like Madara in his life but to have won his honest affection, to earn his place in a heart so closely guarded. Surely there could be no higher honor.

“We can bring the hat next time though, right?”

“If you like.” Swallowing his laughter, Tobirama decided then that he knew the answer to his earlier question. And oddly enough his husband appeared to be right about this as well. Given the chance to go back in time, to speak to himself eight months ago and forewarn of everything that would happen in the future, he would choose to do it all again exactly as they had. Madara's love meant so much more to him now that he knew how deeply the man had searched his own soul to allow himself such emotions. To be handed a prize meant so much less than to win it for himself.

“Are we having a nap now?” Madara asked. His voice didn’t sound particularly sleepy; if anything he seemed to be looking for an excuse to just not get up for a while.

“Mn, if you like,” Tobirama said again.

Listening to his husband grumble at him for being cheeky, he let his eyes fall shut and his head tilt back, basking in the scent of his most beloved person and the security of knowing that everything would turn out alright in the end. What end that might be he could not say but with Madara there at his side he found that what mattered the most was not the destination, it was the journey.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #kagami #hashirama #fanfiction #dear god how is there only one chapter left??#i swear it hasn't been that long!

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justjessame · 4 years

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Never Have I Ever (Chapter 1): The Game

I was sitting across from the devil himself. At least that’s what they’d all told me. All of my friends. All of my family. They all considered him Satan incarnate. I had my doubts.

“Rick the Prick has a sister.” He was studying me as I studied him. Here in his domain. Here where I’d been brought along with Daryl when he’d murdered Abraham and Glenn. Daryl, taken because of his temper, me for God knew what reason. Possibly just another dig at my older brother. I didn’t answer Negan. It wasn’t a question, and I felt that Rick’s confirmation of who I was to him pretty much covered it. “Bet you’re wondering why you’re here.”

“Mildly curious.” I answered, taking in the man sitting before me. He was more at ease here, in his apartment. The leather jacket gone, the red scarf tossed too. Just him, me, and that fucking bat still coated in Abe and Glenn’s brain matter and blood. “More curious about where Daryl is right now.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed as he considered what I was saying. “You and the redneck?” I smiled. Oh, he wanted to know if Daryl and I were a thing.

“Does it matter?” I asked, thinking that the best way to learn what this entire deal was would be to question him, subtly.

“Makes it funnier,” he shrugged and my eyebrow arched in annoyance. “He’s fine.” He waved off the topic of Daryl. “You’re not curious why you’re here?”

I tilted my head. Waiting. And we sat together in silence. I didn’t want to break it first. Not give him that power, the power to force me to jump to his commands. I wanted him to get that me and my people weren’t to be dismissed or trifled with. That we weren’t his playthings. That he wasn’t my boss, my god, or my master.

He sat back, the leather couch making a slight crunching noise that denim on leather makes. “Curious about good ole Daryl, but not about your own fate. That’s ballsy, princess.” I shrugged. “What if,” his hands tented into a V shape under his chin, watching me and contemplating his next words. “What if I brought you here for-” I catch his eyes flick toward the bed. And I snorted. Hard.

“Sex?” I laughed, long and hard. “What if you brought me here to fuck? Oh that IS hilarious. Are you hard up, Negan? Have to take women hostage so they can come play in your bed?”

He watched me laugh and it was a real true laughing fit. This terrible, evil man was trying to insinuate that he brought me, Eveyln Grimes, here to screw. Jesus, I hadn’t found something so funny in so long I felt almost hysterical. I got my shit under control as he waited, surprisingly patient, hands still tented.

“You done?” I nodded, feeling a hiccup build. “Trust me when I say I am NOT hard up.” I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I’m not, sweetheart, in fact I’ll take you to meet my wives later.”

“Wives?” I snorted again, another laughing fit threatening to hit. “Dear God, I don’t know which scenario is more pathetic, a man with NO game, or a man who thinks he has TOO MUCH game.” I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. “Now I am curious. Why am I here, oh great and wondrous one?” I was holding back another eruption of giggles, but just barely.

His eyes narrowed. Clearly he was finding me more than a little irritating. Good. I wanted to piss him off. I wanted to make him see that I wasn’t just some girl he could crook his finger to and I’d come running. The fucking nerve of him. Even if there wasn’t a tiny voice reminding me that he’d just murdered two of our people, I wouldn’t show him fear.

“Tell me about yourself.” A command, loud and clear.

“No.” Just as loud, just as clear. My arms crossed over my chest and I got comfortable. He could put me wherever Daryl was, he could fucking kill me at this point, but he wasn’t going to get me to jump just because he said to.

A raised eyebrow and his hands moved to lay on top of his thighs. The movement forced my eyes down, to see that fucking bat sitting on the table between us. “You’re not being very fucking cooperative, princess.”

“I’m also not a fucking princess, but that fact doesn’t seem to bother you.” I tossed back. I hated being called ‘princess’ by anyone. My own father didn’t do it.

He was chewing on his words again. And I really wanted to see him lose it. The confidence, the coolness. I wanted him to be fucking irritated to the point I’d be shunted out of his presence and hopefully imprisoned near Daryl. Harder to get an escape planned if I didn’t know where he was.

“Let’s play a game.” I rolled my eyes, what were we twelve? “I’ll even let you pick.” He stood up and walked to a small bar I hadn’t noticed behind his sofa. He was fussing with the bottles, and I had a flash of an idea. Fuck, if I could get his ass so damn drunk that he didn’t know which end was up, then I could possibly get the hell of this room.

“Never Have I Ever.” I said, and he looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Never have you ever what?” Oh, he truly didn’t fucking know the game. “Played a game?”

I shook my head. “No, it IS a game. Grab a couple of shot glasses and whatever stupid nasty rotgut you’ve got piled over there and we’ll play it.” He smirked. “A drinking game?” Clearly he was taking in the fact that I’m barely five foot tall barefooted and just over a buck twenty pounds. Yes, underestimate me, Negan. Please.

I nodded and he grabbed a few bottles and juggled two glasses. Sitting them on the table between us, I waited until he’d re-seated himself. I explained the rules, and he nodded his understanding.

“You can even ask the first ‘never have I ever,’” I offered, thinking it would tell me more about where his mind was anyway. “But first we have to pour the drinks.” And so we did.

“Never have I ever been married.” He drank, clearly understanding, yet misinterpreting the rules. Look, if it got his ass drunk first, then I’d roll with the rule breaking. I didn’t take a drink. An eyebrow from him, and I rolled my eyes.

“Never have I ever been into science fiction.” Fuck it, let’s start easy. He drank and I snorted. Negan as a nerdy geek wasn’t something I was prepared for. “Trek or Wars?” I asked, knowing just enough lingo to get by.

He smirked. “Never have I ever gone to a renaissance fair.” He didn’t drink, but I did. “Hark who’s shaming.” I grinned. Ok, so we’re both nerds.

We kept up the easy lobs, I found out that he liked Trek better than Wars. That he was into classic rock, but wasn’t completely against newer music (before the world went to hell and creativity died). I found out that Negan was strangely normal. He’d taught PE in a high school. He learned that I hadn’t been in touch with my family for a few months prior to the outbreak. That I hadn’t known that Rick and Carl had survived until they showed up in Alexandria. He knew that I preferred mint green to pink, that my car had been a restored ‘67 Mustang and I missed the car more than I missed most people. It was time to go down to the scary ones. And we were both far too sober.

“Never have I ever raped someone.” I offered and he didn’t drink. That was a surprise, I guess.

“Why fuck someone who doesn’t want to? Why violate someone when there’s always a willing partner just down the way?” He offered, but there was a sharpness in his eyes. “I’d kill anyone here who tried it.” Well, that calmed some of my tension. “Never have I ever killed someone before this shit started.” I know what he meant, before the world went to shit. I knocked back another drink and this time his eyes went wide.

“What?” I asked, going for a nonchalant air, but it fell flat even to my own ears.

“Why?” He asked, and I was going to fight answering. It wasn’t his turn. But fuck it, why not?

I sighed. “My job, Negan, that’s why.” And he was still staring. “Allow me to introduce myself properly.” I stood up and at attention, ramrod straight. “Captain Evelyn Grimes.” I didn’t salute, he wasn’t my commanding officer. “I’d just taken a position in Washington when shit went to shit.”

He was staring at me as I sat back down. Looking at me like he’d never seen someone like me before, which he probably hadn’t. “Which branch?”

“Army.” I answered. “I liked that one quote from the poster, ‘Join the Army; travel to exotic, distant lands; meet exciting, unusual people and kill them’.” I shrugged. Could we be done now? He nodded to himself and I took it as a go. “Never have I ever been handcuffed.” I didn’t drink and neither did he. Weird, figured at least some woman would have done it to him at some point to get him at her mercy, if he hadn’t gotten on the wrong side of the law.

“Never have I ever-” Negan stared at me and I knew he was trying to decide the best route. “Given a lap dance.” Shit, I drank. His eyebrow raised. “Why, Miss Grimes, that’s a fucking surprise.”

Rolling my eyes, and swallowing past the burn of the dark liquor I’d shot down, I smirked at him. “If that surprised you, then you might not fucking survive the game.” Then taking stock of him, my grin grew. “Never have I ever had a lap dance.”

His dimples came out in full bloom as he took his own drink. “Doubt that surprises you much.” He offered, as he savored his drink. “Never have I ever flirted with a teacher.” I waited to see if he took a drink from his own glass, because I highly doubted he’d be able to stop himself. When he didn’t I rolled my eyes and took my own. “Damn, dirty little thing aren’t you?”

“I think you should have drank too,” I squinted at him. “Never tried to get a little Mrs. Robinson action in school?” He laughed, and it was the strangest thing I’d ever heard. A laugh from his mouth, his mocking hateful mouth, and it was almost musical.

“Nah, I preferred the sure bets.” I chuckled. Yeah, his ego wouldn’t have taken the hit of an older woman turning down his ass flat. “Did you only flirt?”

“It’s not your turn, Negan.” His eyes widened. Too bad, not his turn. “Never have I ever kissed someone that was my own gender.” Neither of us drank, damn it. I’d hoped, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t get it.

“Never have I ever slept with a teacher.” Damn it. I took a drink. “Seriously, dirty little girl.” Were his eyes twinkling? Asshole. “It’s not my turn, but fuck if I don’t want to know more.”

“What’s to know? I like older men.” I shrugged. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” I hadn’t, I don’t like to share or be shared. Since he had WIVES I assumed he’d drink. When he didn’t, I was annoyed. “Seriously? You have a harem and you’ve never decided to double dip at one go?”

He shook his head. “I like to keep my focus on what I’m doing.” Getting yourself off, I supplied. “More than one target and my attention isn’t where it should be.” On yourself. “Never have I ever been caught fucking.” We both drank, and I had to laugh.

“You’re gonna get yourself hammered, Negan, asking those questions.” I raised an eyebrow, and considered my next. “Never have I ever watched someone fucking outside of porn.” He drank, I didn’t. Voyeurism wasn’t something I aspired to. I was smirking, certain that while he didn’t partake in threesomes, that he might expect entertainment from the wives.

“Not them.” He offered, clearly reading the smirk for the thought that it came from. “Just got lucky a few times.” He winked and I rolled my eyes. “Never have I ever been fucked for an audience.” Different from being caught, he wanted to know if I’d done it for fun. I drank and his eyebrow nearly left his face. “Damn, Captain Grimes, I may have underestimated you.”

I swallowed the sip and glared into my glass. “This shit is disgusting.” It was, but not because it was homemade or because it was bad quality. I just hated brown liquors. “Never have I ever-” I tilted my head to study him. “Fucked the enemy.” Neither of us drank. “Glad to know that I won’t be the first to shoot your ass down.” I muttered, and he laughed.

“Ah, sweetheart, I’m not the enemy.” I raised an eyebrow. “You just don’t KNOW me yet.” I snorted, loudly. “Never have I ever had sex with a stranger.” He didn’t drink, but I did. Shit. This was a horrible idea for a game. “Fuck, Evelyn, I think you’re a fucking package full of surprises aren’t you?”

I licked an errant drop of the burning alcohol from my bottom lip and saw his eyes focus on it. “Never have I ever kissed a stranger.” We both drank, and I was starting to feel the slight ease that comes with alcohol. The lightning of the tension that had built up from the moment I’d been forced to my knees in the dirt.

And it went, on and on, until I think we both felt far more friendly and happy. Not drunk, just pleasantly buzzed. “Never have I ever,” I studied him, thinking about the facts I’d learned so far, and smiled. “Fucked a student.” I didn’t drink, but he did. “Why Negan, aren’t you just a kinky little bastard.” I sat back in my seat and my grin grew. “So did she play naughty school girl and you were the randy professor?” He was watching my glee grow. “Oohh, did she wear the uniform? Or-” I closed my eyes and a laugh bubbled up, “you taught PE, was it a cheerleader uniform?” I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. I put on a pout and tilted my head as I twirled a lock of my hair around my finger. “Coach, I just don’t think I’m gonna be able to get the split just right, can I have a little extra help?” I’d made my voice a little breathless and I batted my eyelashes.

He snorted, and rolled his eyes. “She was an adult, asshole.” I laughed. “I’m not that fucking ridiculous.” I stared at him. “Never have I ever-” he bit his lip. “Been spanked, as an adult.” Thank goodness he added that in, because prior to his adulthood he’d no doubt worn a red ass as a constant. I drank, trying to take a smaller sip. Fuck, was one bottle empty already? And the other was surprisingly low. “Uh huh, drink it.” Shit. Fucker.

I swallowed the fully shot. Damn him. And his stupid fucking game. Wait, I picked this game, didn’t I? I was trying to think it through when he cleared this throat. “What?” I snapped, still picking through my memories of sitting down and this miserable game’s origin. I raised my eyes to his and he was smirking. “What?” I snapped again.

“Think you’re shitfaced, princess.” I glared. “Had a bit too much of your own medicine?”

“I’m not drunk.” I said, and I almost believed myself. “I’m NOT.” I admonished. And then I realized that he wasn't showing ANY of the signs of all the shots he’d taken. And he’d taken a fair few, but NOT nearly as many as me. “Never have I ever LIED during a game of ‘never have I ever’.” I glared at him as he started to laugh and took his own shot. Fucker. “You cheated.” I accused, feeling completely indignant that he’d dare to sully the sanctity of our game. I crossed my arms over my chest and sat there feeling so wronged.

“You are so fucking drunk, honey,” dimples and eyes fully loaded on this asshole across from me. “Think you should probably sleep that off.” I shot a look at his bed and felt my face flush. “Alone.” Ah, that’s unexpected.

“Fine.” I answered, standing up, and happy that I was more steady than my sluggish brain would have implied. “I’ll take the couch.” I hiccuped and sighed. Damn it. My wonderful plan, undone by this asshole.

Negan stood up, and took my arm. “Not fucking happening.” He walked me to the bed and pulled back the covers. “I may be a lot of fucking things, but I won’t let a lady take the couch.”

I rolled my eyes, and looked at the size of the bed. Thankful again that I wasn’t so drunk that I was seeing doubles. “Looks big enough to share, without touching.” I added, just to be clear.

He chuckled beside me. “Why, Miss Grimes, are you asking me to sleep with you?” I glared up at him, and he shocked me by brushing my hair out of my face. “Sleep. Sure.” And then he motioned to a door I hadn’t noticed. “Bathroom’s through there, if you need it.”

I did. I needed that bathroom more than I ever thought I’d need anything in my life. I rushed over and sighed at the sight of a toilet. I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed to go until he mentioned it. So closing the door behind me and rushing over, I took care of business. After I flushed, washed my hands, and took stock of myself in the mirror, I left the bathroom.

Negan was already in bed. His bed. And he was shirtless. And the sheets riding low enough to see that he had a happy trail low down on his stomach and my mouth went dry. Shit. Who knew he looked like THAT under his clothes? Damn it. I shot a look at the couch.

“Evelyn.” Fuck, why hadn’t I noticed how deep his voice was? “Come to bed.” Shit. Why did that sound so fucking appealing?

I squared my shoulders and gave myself an internal pep talk. Reminding myself that I was Captain Evelyn Grimes, for fuck’s sake. I did NOT give in to my basic, primal urges anymore. Not on a whim. Not without thought and serious pro/con lists weighing the options. I kept the internal dialogue up until I reached the empty side of the bed, and kicked off my shoes to climb in.

“You’re not wearing all that shit to bed are you?” His damn voice drug me from my debate. “I’m not gonna make a fucking move, princess, I want you to be FULLY aware when we finally fuck.”

I raised an eyebrow, but shrugged at the fact that sleeping fully clothed when I had options was a stupid move. Comfort, especially after drinking around two fucking bottles of booze that I hated the taste of, would be key to waking up and not wanting to die in the morning light. Unbuttoning my jeans, I was unzipping the zipper when I heard him shift slightly on the bed. Looking up, I saw his eyes locked on my hand. Oh, so he wanted a show? I took my time lowering the zipper, biting my lip to keep from laughing when I saw his Adam’s apple bob from his swallow. I opened the sides, tugging first one side, then the other down my hips. Keeping my eyes on him, I shimmied out of them and was very happy that I’d worn the one pair of pretty panties that had been clean in my small pile of clothes. I was bent over, my loose v-neck t-shirt hanging open so he could have a nice view down into the v of my cleavage. I heard him swallow this time. Victory.

When I stood up, he’d pulled the blankets back further, keeping himself covered, but giving me ample room to climb into the bed. I cleared my throat and his eyes met mine. “Thank you.” I laid back on the pillow on the side of the bed he’d left for me. “Night, Negan.”

“Night, Evelyn.” His voice sounded as raw as my nerves felt. Fuck, thank God I’d drank my weight in shitty booze, I thought as the drink pulled me under to sleep. Otherwise, sleep would be the furthest from my mind.

#negan x ofc #The Walking Dead #eventual smut #implied sex #never have i ever

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knybits · 4 years

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Kimetsu Academy!!

Shoutout to @thunderandrainclouds for allowing me to use chiyo!! i tried to make her more of the focus for this chapter’s au bc my last kimetsu academy one focused on miyuki, but tbh its funnier when the whole gang is there :,) thanks to @kny-writings for letting me use miyuki!!

There’s always one person that thanks Kimetsu Academy’s resident home EC teacher Takenaka Chiyo in their graduation speech.

Why?

Because she protects the students from the hard ass that is the PE teacher, Tomioka Giyuu.

“I swear I’m going to get him fired if that’s the last thing I do at this school,” Akiko furiously washes the rice, and Tanjirou laughs weakly at his girlfriend. She hears him mutter a soft, “Please don’t” under his breath.

She stops her scrubbing to look up at him, raising a brow before looking out the window and down to the school’s track. Giyuu is blowing his whistle as students run in the agonizing heat, some even collapsing from exhaustion.

“Well, your mile time has gone down!” Tanjirou tries to look on the bright side of things, but Akiko isn’t having any of it.

“He chased me with his shinai to get those results.”

Tanjirou tries so… so hard to maintain his smile, but he knows that Giyuu would have hit Akiko if she didn’t start running. She always walks her mile, so she’s partly to blame.

“He did what?!” Chiyo suddenly appears by the two teens, eyes wide as she wipes her hands on her apron.

Hair as pure as fresh fallen snow and eyes so green they rival the baby ivy that crawls up the sides of the school’s greenhouse. She usually smiles with the tenderness of a mother, but she looks troubled by Akiko’s news.

Honestly? This is nothing new. Akiko and her group of friends always get into trouble with Giyuu, but Akiko is the only one without any care that he’ll give her a detention.

Luckily, Chiyo is always there to protect the gang, her arms outstretched in front of them and her cheeks puffed out in defiance in the face of her agitated lover.

Akiko stabs a thumb over her shoulder to the window behind her, “I think he’s still doing it to other students.”

Chiyo rushes to the window, pressing her face to the glass before seeing that her fool of a boyfriend is in fact chasing a student around the track.

“Fuck,” the couple hears her mumble under her breath, and she turns around to wave her hands in the air and grab the class’s attention.

“Everyone here knows what to do! So I’ll be out for a few minutes! Please don’t report that I wasn’t here to supervise you, and don’t set the class room on fire.” Everyone collectively looks at Inosuke and she nods her head with a huff. Then, the ever so soft Chiyo rushes out the door.

Akiko looks at Nezuko, who works with Zenitsu on the other side of the room, and they raise brows at each other.

Without even so much as a word, the two girls dash to open the window and lean their bodies out, waiting for the show to start. Akiko pulls her phone out to start recording, and others in the class gather around to watch.

Chiyo takes a bit longer than they expected to get down to the tack, but that’s only because they see her lugging a crate of filled reusable water bottles she grabbed from the kitchen.

Akiko can see that Chiyo isn’t struggling under the weight, a crate in each hand as she marches across the field.

“One yakisoba bread that sensei dumps one of those water bottles onto him.”

Tanjirou can only shake his head while Akiko looks to the person, smiling in such a sickly sweet way that they’re thrown off from their cocky declaration.

“You must be new,” she coos, then turns her attention back to the show.

Students flock to Chiyo, thanking her for the water and taking a break under the shade of some nearby trees. Giyuu looks like he’s about to yell at students for suddenly quitting, but he stops when he sees Chiyo.

Then he smiles.

Everyone in the classroom goes wild, Akiko zooming into the soft smile of Tomioka Giyuu. Chiyo has her hands on her hips as Giyuu approaches her, and everyone pushes Zenitsu up to the front to get him to hear the conversation.

“Mmm she’s telling him to give everyone a break… Tomioka-sensei is saying something about cutting their mile times- oh wait nevermind he doesn’t want to risk the bento she made for him.”

Chiyo smiles one last time at Giyuu before turning to make her way to the classroom; but when she looks up, she sees flocks of students leaning and sitting on top of each other just to grab a glance.

“Quick! Scram!” Murata yells, and chaos ensues as students rush back to their stations and continue to make their rice balls. Akiko quickly uploads the video to the school’s private story with a giddy smile on her face.

Tanjirou already has the rice balls shaped to perfection and Akiko gives him a quick peck on the cheek as thanks. Chiyo walks in right after, a light blush on her cheeks as she coughs into her fist.

“I see the classroom is still intact…”

Everyone bursts into a fit of giggles, and Makomo raises her hand to ask, “Sensei how buff are your arms?”

As everyone debates the possible width of Chiyo’s arms, Chiyo offers her arm up for science and a couple kids run down to the fashion and design classroom to find a tape measure. Akiko observes with curious eyes, nestled into Tanjirou’s chest as she every so often raises her hand to feed him one of his rice balls.

“Can you tell how big her arms are?” Tanjirou asks, and Akiko narrows her eyes a bit, taking a mental note in her head before nodding his head.

She then looks over at “new kid” before saying, “One yakisoba bread says that her arms are 33 centimeters!“

Needless to say, Akiko has her beloved Home EC teacher’s nice arms to thank for today’s lunch.

---

“Akiko, shouldn’t we call a teacher?!”

“Tanjirou I love you but tHEY ARE THE TEACHERS!!”

PE teacher Tomioka Giyuu and math teacher Shinazugawa Sanemi are fighting right out front of Akiko’s homeroom, and there’s a big crowd that’s gathered to watch the fighting go down.

Already, Akiko’s phone blows up with people tagging each other, questions asked about what’s going on and some just wanting to know who has won.

“Where did they even get the yard sticks?!” Zenitsu has his hands clasped over his ears, mainly due to the fact that everyone is screaming and shouting and his ears can’t handle all the immense noise.

“Mhmhm!!” Nezuko points to the yard sticks that Rengoku-sensei left behind after the day’s history cavalry battle. Akiko sigh to herself, and Tanjirou slides a hand under Akiko’s face when she goes in to faceplant her desk.

“At any rate, we should call Takenaka-sensei or Himi-sensei!” Tanjirou rushes out of the room before Akiko can call him back in, and she watches as he disappears into the wave of students.

Akiko sighs to herself again before pulling out her phone and quickly calling Chiyo, keeping her on speaker phone to send a quick text to Miyuki too. Miyuki’s answer is instantaneous, a bunch of caps words and exclamation points with a couple emojis telling Akiko that she’s on her way and she’s ready to beat the shit out of her boyfriend.

A few rings later and Chiyo picks up, sounding a bit frazzled as she’s down at the school’s daycare checking up on Ayame.

“Hello? Akiko? Anything wrong? Did you forget your lunch again?? Giyuu didn’t show up to eat his lunch so I have a box left over- hey do you know where he is?” There’s the sound of a crying baby in the background and Chiyo’s occasional cooing as she tries to get Ayame to calm down.

Akiko almost feels bad that Ayame will be without her older sister thanks to the stupid fight between teachers, but with Zenitsu yelling in her ear and the occasional student shoving into Akiko, she’s had quite enough.

“Uh, yeah, your boyfriend is fighting Sanemi. Again.”

“Oh my gods WHAT?!”

The call abruptly ends, and Akiko looks at the screen with a satisfied smile.

“Are our goddesses coming to save us?” Zenitsu whimpers, and Nezuko pats his head in reassurance. Akiko makes a face of disgust when Zenitsu starts screaming over Nezuko again.

Speak of the devil, Miyuki shows up wearing one indoor slipper, the other one in her hand as she races towards Sanemi. Akiko even sees a microphone held within her grasp, and when Zenitsu takes notice he clasps his hands over his ears again.

When the slipper knocks him in the head from behind, he turns around with the yardstick.

“WHO THE HELL THREW THAT-?!”

The hallway falls into an unnatural hush and Miyuki raises the megaphone to her lips before shouting.

“SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!!”

Akiko hears the loud wailing of a baby next, and Chiyo is seen barreling down the hallway with Ayame strapped across her chest. Giyuu pales at the sight of his usually soft looking girlfriend looking rather irritated instead.

But when he finds himself with baby Ayame strapped across his chest instead, he can’t help but blink owlishly.

“Why do I-?”

“There! Now you and Sanemi can’t fight! Baby on board!” Chiyo wipes the imaginary sweat from her forehead, looking rather proud of herself with the way she handled the situation.

Female and male students alike start taking pictures of the hilarious spectacle, because now Giyuu and Sanemi are sitting seiza style on the hard hallway floor.

Giyuu actually looks guilty, but he’s at least bouncing Ayame on his lap to get her to stop crying. And every time Sanemi tries to protest, Miyuki clicks her megaphone on in preparation to yell at him.

Even Kimetsu Gakuen’s fearsome math teacher is no match for a megaphone.

Akiko starts to wave parts of the crowd away, yelling that there isn’t much else to see and that they can all up and leave for their own classrooms now.

Chiyo smiles, nudging Akiko gently as Miyuki starts her onslaught of words unto Giyuu now.

“As expected of the class president,” Chiyo laughs. Akiko can only slump, her eyebags looking even more distressing thanks to the fact that people that were dispersing have decided to come back to watch Miyuki tear through Giyuu.

“If they keep fighting, I feel like you and Miyuki are gonna have to help them job hunt… Not that I would mind Giyuu leaving though.”

Chiyo can’t help but laugh weakly at Akiko’s usual dislike towards Giyuu, watching the golden eyes class president cross her arms and furrow her brows.

“Akiko!! I got help!” Tanjirou’s joyful voice rings out from the other end of the hall, and Akiko has to bat some of her hair out of her face when she turns her face a bit too quickly.

But at the sight of the school’s principal, blood drains from Akiko’s body.

“EVERYONE SCATTER!!” Zenitsu screeches, and mayhem ensues as every student breaks away from the scene like a pack of rats from Rat tat tooey.

Right when Akiko is about to book it, Miyuki, Chiyo, Giyuu, and Sanemi rest a hand on her shoulders to hold her in place (or, well, Sanemi grabs her head and nearly breaks her skull but let’s save that for later.)

Akiko sends out a quick prayer to whatever god or spirit will hear her, then quickly cries at the fact that she’s dating the most loveable but NAIVE boys of the school.

“Oh? I thought Tanjirou told me of a fight going on?” Oyakata-sama’s stream like voice flows through everyone’s ears, but everyone knows more than to mess with him.

“How about a talk in my office, hm?”

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #himi miyuki #tamura akiko #takenaka chiyo #kny oc #kimetsu academy #kimetsu no yaiba oc #kamado tanjirou #shinazugawa sanemi #tomioka giyuu

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mistydacat · 4 years

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Cursed || A Felinette Story || Chapter 1

Who would've thought that a seemingly ordinary Thursday afternoon, a letter would arrive in the mail that would change their life?

Marinette sure didn't.

So she was surprised when her parents called her down from her room, claiming that a letter had arrived in the mail for her.

At first, she was confused. It couldn't be from any of her friends; they could just text her. Who would send her a letter?

It must be something super important. Marinette thought to herself. People were only sent letters these days if it was an invitation to some sort of fancy event. Though, she supposed schools sent out letters sometimes as well.

Marinette tried to rack her brain for anything she could have done that would have been worth sending a letter home for, but came up with nothing. Maybe Lila had come up with another lie to get her into trouble again? However, she hadn't been in school for a while, so that didn't make sense.

But one look at her parents' faces destroyed that theory, much to her relief. They were smiling at her.

So now, she was back to confused. Instead of further dwelling on it and jumping to conclusions, like she usually did, Marinette decided to just ask.

"A letter? Who is it from?"

"Do you know that art school that's not too far from here? Lycée D'Arts en Hausse?" Her mother asked.

"Yeah?" Marinette responded, unsure of where this was going.

Her dad handed her the letter with her name printed on it. A similar envelope lay on the counter, opened. She could just make out her parents' names on it from where she was standing.

She opened up hers and began reading.

Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng,

We, Lycée D'Arts en Hausse's talent scouts, have found the exceptional work you have done as a designer. We have seen the world-renowned rock star, Jagged Stone's new album cover, and the Pigeon Feather hat you skillfully created for a recent Gabriel fashion show. We have unanimously agreed that your talent is something we would happily accept at this school.

Attached to this letter is a pamphlet that features some of the many things Lycee D'Arts en Hausse offers to its design students.

If you think that this school is fit for you, you can send an email to [email protected] so we can book you an interview and start the school transferring process.

Sincerely,

Lycée D'Arts en Hausse

Marinette jaw dropped.

"No way," she breathed out, looking wide-eyed at her parents.

"It's your choice if you go or not, of course. I know you'll probably miss your friends, but you can always meet up with them on weekends and after school. You could even arrange to spend your lunch hour with them if you'd really like to," her mother said, offering her a comforting smile.

"This could be an excellent opportunity for you to get a head start in the fashion industry." Her father butted in.

Marinette, still in shock, could only nod at her parents. She was still trying to process what was happening.

She weighed the pros and cons. On the plus side, her dad was right, this would be a great opportunity. She could go to class with other young designers like her and have a professional teacher. She would probably learn things that she wouldn't have been able to teach herself!

But, on the downside, she was moving to a new school. At her new school, she could get away from Chloe and Lila, although they don't really bother her as much as they used to. She didn't know anyone there, and, unlike what would happen if she transferred at the beginning of the year, she would be the only new student. People had already established their friend groups. What if no one wanted to talk to her? Or worse, what if there was someone ever more awful than Chloe and Lila? What would she do then?

"Marinette?"

Marinette blinked back into reality, created by her parents' worried faces.

"Sorry, I'm just... taking it all in, I guess."

Their expressions relaxed. "You can take a few days to think it over if you'd like. This is a big decision." Her mother comforted.

"Thanks, Maman. Thanks, Papa." She kissed both her parents' cheeks. "I love you both so much."

"We love you too, sweetie." Her mother smiled.

»»————- ⚜ ————-««

Marinette went up to her room. She felt that she needed to ask Tikki for her opinion, then she would video call Alya and ask for her advice.

"I'm so happy for you, Marinette!" Tikki beamed.

"Do you think I should go?" Marinette asked her.

"It would be a pretty significant change for you, but not necessarily a bad one! Think of all the new experiences you'll go through!" The kwami of creation cheered.

Marinette sighed. "I don't know. I guess I'm just..."

"Nervous?" Tikki finished for her.

She nodded.

"You have to go through changes in your life, Marinette. It's inevitable. But it makes you a stronger person." Tikki assured her.

"You're right." The young designer smiled at her. "I'm still gonna call Alya and ask for her opinion, though."

Tikki nodded. "Go ahead!"

Marinette unlocked her phone and texted Alya.

ThatOneDesigner: Hey, I need to talk to you about this super important thing.

Alya responded quickly.

ThatOneLadyblogger:???

ThatOneLadyblogger: What is it??????

ThatOneDesigner: Can I call you?

ThatOneDesigner: Sure.

Marinette hit the call button and watched as Alya's face filled the screen after she accepted.

"Hey girl, what's up?" Asked Alya.

"So... I don't know how to say this, but..." Marinette started.

"But what?"

"There's this super awesome arts school that liked my work and offered me a spot there in design!" She blurted out quickly.

Alya gasped. "Oh my gosh, Girl! That's so awesome! I'm super excited for you! Did you respond to them yet? Do you know when you're gonna start? I'm soo jealous! Oh my gosh, tell me everything!"

Marinette smiled at her best friend's reaction. How could she ever have thought she would react otherwise?

She quickly filled Alya in on all the details she knew of.

"-So, I called you to ask for your opinion." Marinette finished.

"Girl, there is no way I am letting you pass up this opportunity! Do you really have a reason not to go?" Alya told her.

Marinette pursed her lips. "Well, I was scared of what you'd think. I didn't want it to seem like I was abandoning you."

Alya let out a fake gasp. "How dare you think so lowly of me!" She yelled dramatically, striking a classic 'woe-is-me' pose. "What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn't extremely over-supportive of you going to this school? Marinette, you should be ashamed! Ashamed, I tell you!"

Both girls simultaneously burst into a fit of giggles, which then erupted into roaring laughter. They didn't stop until they were struggling to breathe, tears forming in the corners of their eyes.

Things always seemed a hundred times funnier when they came out of the mouths of your best friends.

"You know what would totally be awesome?" Alya began after (mostly) recovering from their laugh attack. "You should definitely introduce me, Nino, and Adrien to any new friends you make at your school. That way, we could have one giant friend group! Also, I'll need to run a background check and approve of all your new friends. I don't want you to befriend anyone that could potentially hurt you."

Marinette laughed. "Alya, I don't even know if I'll make any new friends."

"There is no way anyone could meet you and not instantly want to be your best friend. Literally, our whole class loves you, except Chloe, but I don't think she loves anybody. You'll make tons of new friends."

"Alya, you know what? I think I'm gonna go."

Alya squealed. "I knew I could convince you! But you have to call us every day and have lunch with us at least once a week. Also, if you're not busy, we have to meet up on weekends."

Marinette rolled her eyes playfully. "Obviously. Those are all given."

"I can't believe you're gonna go to a fancy art school!"

"Why do I feel like you're more excited about this than I am?" Marinette teased.

"That's because I am. Overly-supportive best friend, remember?"

Marinette laughed again. Talking to Alya had really hyped her up for the move.

"I've gotta go help my mom with some stuff. See you tomorrow?"

Marinette nodded, giving her friend a little wave. "Bye!"

"Byeeee!" Alya blew a kiss at the screen, then hung up.

»»————- ⚜ ————-««

The next few days went by rather quickly. Marinette had come home from school on Friday and told her parents that she had made her decision. The next thing she did was send an email to the school telling them that she was interested in enrolling. They sent their response back rather quickly and scheduled an appointment for her, which she attended a few days later.

They mostly just gave her a tour of the building and introduced her to some potential teachers. She met the principal, Mme. Ambroise, who had seemed to be a very kind woman who genuinely cared for each one of her students.

A week later was her last day at her current school, Collège Françoise Dupont, and boy was it emotional.

Her classmates gathered around her, offering their goodbyes and wishing her good luck. Some have even brought gifts. Rose had handed her friendship bracelet with her name on it, and a quick glance showed that the entire girl squad had one as well.

Mylene, Rose, Juleka, and Ivan had also gotten Luka to help them make her a song that she downloaded and vowed to listen to on her first day. Nino had also made a few remixes of it, so she had a variety.

Nathanial had drawn a portrait of her as a half-phoenix, to represent rebirth and starting over.

Alya had gotten her a set of brand new charcoal pencils, and Adrien had gotten her the prettiest sketchbook she had ever seen. It had the Eiffel Tower on it, which he said was because he had heard her say it inspired her. He and Alya had thought that since she would be starting at a new school, she should have some new supplies to really start off fresh.

The gifts really touched her heart, and when it was time to hug everyone and say their last goodbyes, half the class was almost in tears.

»»————- ⚜ ————-««

Marinette was very tempted to collapse onto her bed the second she got home and contemplate her entire life, but she needed to get her things ready for the next day.

She emptied her backpack of all the workbooks and papers from her old school, but then she decided to dump everything else out so she could clean her bag. There were a lot of crumpled up papers and even if you stray pencils.

Once she was done, she put in her pencil case and a few other supplies, along with the new sketchbook and pencils she had gotten.

When Marinette was done, she realized how much spare time she had since she didn't have any homework to do, and decided to clean her room. Tomorrow was a new beginning, why not start off with a tidy bedroom?

She cleaned up and put away some stray fabrics, yarn, and thread. She also took the time to hang up the art Nathanial had given her.

Marinette stared at her walls, hesitating. Should she take the pictures of Adrien down?

This was supposed to be the start of a new era for her, right? Adrien didn't seem to have returned any of her affections, so maybe she should move on?

No, what was she thinking!? Just because she was moving to a new school doesn't mean she was giving up!

But at the same time, what if she met someone else? Adrien was clearly uninterested, maybe she was thinking these thoughts because she had already partially moved on. She had even gotten over her stutter.

Marinette's hand hovered over one of the pictures, then she shook her head. She would just wait and see if her feelings changed the next time she saw him.

»»————- ⚜ ————-««

Marinette spent the rest of her day helping her parents in the bakery and working on a leather skirt. She didn't usually work with leather, as it was one of the more finicky materials to sew, so she was getting some practice in.

Marinette went to sleep early that night, grateful that Hawkmoth had decided not to release an akuma that night. She hoped that maybe tomorrow she'd actually get to school on time. »»————- ⚜ ————-««

Cursed Masterlist

Read it on Wattpad

Read it on AO3

mistydacat Masterlist

#felinette #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug

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danceworshipper · 4 years

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Singing Lessons - Year Four

I've just been ignoring Liam this whole time, haven't I? Oops, here's a little fic for him!

"Even in the dark, I still see you."

"Put a little more emphasis on the 'you'," Liam said. "Make it louder than the rest of the line, and make sure to enunciate properly. Make 'in the' two separate words."

Penny nodded and tried again. This time, when she sang the line, her voice rang out at the end, and Liam smiled.

"Much better. Do you want to try the whole first bit now? Just up to the prechorus."

Penny took a few breaths. "Okay."

Liam turned his eyes back to the piano and began to play. Penny's voice fit this particular song much better than any of the previous songs she had chosen. Most of it was right within her natural range, and the whole thing was slow enough for her to be able to put meaning and emotion behind every word. When she really tried, Penny could be a hauntingly beautiful singer.

"Even in the dark, I still see you," Penny sang. "Your eyes find mine, and I know it's true. Everything you've said, I know that you mean. Everything I need - it can only be you."

The last note of the piano rang through the room. Liam looked up to see Penny beaming proudly.

"I hit the note this time!" she exclaimed.

"I noticed!" Liam said. "You've been hitting it a lot more lately."

"It's only because I have the best teacher," Penny said. She nudged Liam with her elbow, and Liam looked away with a smile.

"Seriously, you're incredible," Penny said. "I wish you would let me repay you somehow."

"You repay me by letting me hear your beautiful voice," Liam said, turning back to give Penny a dramatic wink, making her laugh.

"Really, Liam, you should let me help you with Potions."

"I hate Potions."

"You need a good Potions grade in order to be a Healer," Penny pointed out.

"Hey, I've been surviving up until now, haven't I?"

"We have OWLs next year. That's going to be a challenge, even for me."

"If only there was a singing OWL," Liam said. "I'd get an O on that for sure."

Penny chuckled. "You're already the best singer on the Frog Choir."

Liam brushed his hair out of his face. "Of course I am. Who else would it be? Merula? Please."

It had been a rather humorous experience when Merula had tried desperately to make the Frog Choir. It had been even funnier to see her look of pure shock when Liam had been given the spot and not her.

"She can sing well," Penny argued.

"Her voice is fine," Liam admitted. "She's just not good at backing it with emotion, which is why you're a better singer than her."

Penny blushed. "I am not. I've only been taking lessons with you for a few months."

"You've made real fast progress," Liam said. "You had natural talent to start off with."

"I used to sound like a dying whale and you know it."

"Nah. More like a seal giving birth."

"Liam!"

Penny shoved Liam off of the piano bench, laughing. Liam laughed with her. She stood to help him up, and Liam pulled her down to the floor with him, making them both laugh harder. Penny rolled Liam onto his stomach and then lay on top of him.

"Hey!" Liam yelped. "Let me up!"

"I don't think I will," Penny taunted. "You're comfy. I might just lay here all day."

Liam rolled over, causing Penny to fall off of him. He got up quickly and sat wide on the piano bench so she had no where to sit.

"Hey, move over," Penny said as she stood up.

"I don't think I will."

"Arse," Penny said with a big grin on her face.

Liam smirked. "Oh, Penny, surely you're used to standing. Those shapely legs couldn't have come out of nowhere."

Penny rolled her eyes. "I do have good legs."

"Y'all done flirting in here yet?"

Liam and Penny's heads both whipped in Diego's direction. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the frame with one shoulder in his typical "cool guy" pose.

"We aren't flirting," Liam said quickly.

"Who says we aren't?" Penny asked.

"Uh..."

Penny winked at Liam. "We're done for now, Diego. You can work on your guitar."

"Thanks. See you at dinner."

Penny gave an innocent little wave as she left the room, leaving Liam a little light headed.

"Dude, you're lost."

"Huh?"

Diego chuckled. "You've got it bad. Penny is beautiful, Liam. You are lucky."

Liam shifted uncomfortably. "She doesn't like me like that."

"The flirting?"

"She's like you," Liam said. "She's popular and outgoing."

"Yes, but unlike me, she is not a flirt. She likes you."

Liam shook his head. "She doesn't."

Diego looked like he thought Liam was a moron. Maybe he was.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #liam disteel #penny haywood #penny x mc

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urmomsstuntdouble · 4 years

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if i may,,, the passage from ur nyo nordics fic that starts with “Hey, I saw your set,” He said, talking only to Maija. “Maija, right?” and ends with “Don’t remind me,” Astrid said, her cheeks paler than usual. "... tyvm

you may! here ya go:

“Hey, I saw your set,” He said, talking only to Maija. “Maija, right?”

“Yep, that’s me!” She said, putting on a voice eerily similar to Tuli’s customer service voice.

“Well, you’re really funny, and I was wondering if you might like to go out with me sometime.” Maija’s face went a deep red, and her fists clenched at her sides

“Um, thanks, but-”

“Have you ever heard of a straight woman with a rat tail?” Ylva asked, and threw her arm around Maija’s waist. “If you have, I’d actually like to meet her.” Neither of them noticed, but Runa seemed to wince, pulling her arms even tighter around herself. Her cheeks had gone red, but the door hadn't been open long enough for it to be attributed to the cold.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, uh, you don't look gay.”

“I’m-” Maija sputtered, “Ylva’s my girlfriend. But I’m sure you’re- You’re very sexy to some. Thanks- Thanks for coming to my show, bye!” Tuli felt bad for laughing, but Ylva clearly didn't. She cackled, in fact, as they filed out the door and away to their car.

so this starts off with like. shitty people thinking they’re entitled to your attention, right? but also sort of talks about denmark’s character a little bit. she’s uncomfortable, both because the guy is being rude and because she’s gay. denmark really needs everyone to like her, and that’s why she’s so loud and extroverted n stuff, but she also has no idea what to do with negative attention and doesn’t know how to handle situations that don’t go according to her plans. She freezes up here because he does like her, but not in the way she wanted him to, and she doesnt really know how to deal with that. She kind of needs Ylva to get back on her feet, which ylva finds hilarious, seeing as it’s part of maija’s job to come up with stuff on the fly. meanwhile runa is Not Okay, cause it’s teenage angst o clock with this one and she’s having a sexuality crisis. though i didnt touch on that as deeply as i could have, runa’s struggling with her sexuality, and even hearing anything about gay people makes her freak out because she has no idea what’s going on with that, personally. as for the joke about straight women not having rat tails, i think it has a definitive source but i have no memory of what that is. possible sources include the japanese teacher at my high school who had a side mullet/ponytail situation going on. it was just. a very gay hairstyle.

“But you should really get rid of the rat tail,” She told Maija, and Tuli couldn't agree more.

“It’s a part of my look!” Maija whined, running a hand through her hair. Though she had employed copious amounts of gel to preserve a coiffed look, it was mostly falling apart by now.

“Yer look is…You should change it,” Astrid said snidely.

“What’s wrong with it?” Maija asked, walking backwards so she could face Astrid, although she kept one hand firmly in Ylva’s.

“The rat tail, f’r one. Yer hair’s a mess, clothes never match, and-”

“We can't all be models, Astrid.”

gotta have some good old fashioned bickering about pointless crap in your nordics fics. the rat tail doesn’t really fit with norway’s aesthetic, ya know? and of course we must have some slight animosity between sweden and denmark for canon accuracy but mostly because a bit of a rivalry between them makes for a funnier story.

“She’s got a point,” Ylva said.

“You’re all bullies!” Maija whined, turning back around. “I can't believe my own girlfriend would betray me like this.”

“I said what I said,” Ylva said, seeming unbothered, though she yelped when Maija attacked her with a side hug.

“You guys are so loud!” Runa whined, hands now in her pockets.

“It never ends,” Tuli warned, though her tone was jovial, “You’re lucky Ylva’s already graduated.”

“Don’t remind me,” Astrid said, her cheeks paler than usual.

despite the weird dude from earlier, maija is still riding high from her set. and also criticism? what’s that lol, denmark is perfect already, wym? anyway then she attacks ylva in a sort of “gotcha” way, mostly because she has rebuttals but isn’t the best at coming up with things on the fly. and like yeah i know this trait seems awful for a comedian to have, but think about it. denmark is a showoff, but also kinda makes a fool out of herself a lot, so it’s just like “hey i should be stupid for money instead.” anyway, when it comes to Runa, same things as what i said before. she doesnt know how to handle the idea that she’s not alone in her potential queerness, and that’s sort of manifested in yelling at the others. and her use of the word “loud” has a double meaning here, because yes they do all have loud voices, but they’re also very loud in a gay sense (see that whole thing that just happened with maija and ylva, and that astrid and tuli are married). but tuli, our narrator, only picks up on the volume aspect of it, at which point, we learn that Ylva was not a great person when she was in college.

#ceros posting

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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1009: Hamlet, Prinz von Dänemark

I spent a buck-fifty Canadian to download this movie. There’s not much you can get for a buck-fifty Canadian. One sour soother, maybe, or a chipped coffee mug from a garage sale that has a photo of somebody else’s grandparents on it. So now you know how much Hamlet is worth.

We all know the story of Hamlet, whether we wanted to or not. King Hamlet of Denmark was murdered by his brother Claudius, who then married Queen Gertrude and stole the throne. We can’t be having that, so the king’s ghost appears to his son, Hamlet Jr, and tells him he must take revenge. Junior then spends the whole rest of the play wandering around pondering the afterlife and battering his girlfriend Ophelia before finally running Claudius through during a climactic duel during which pretty much everybody else dies, too, except for the ones who were already dead. Nobody has ever given me a convincing explanation of why these people have names like Horatio and Laertes instead of Svend and Rolf.

I’m definitely not going to try to review Hamlet itself, Shakespeare’s play, because I don’t know a damned thing about Hamlet. I deliberately went out and murdered those brain cells with alcohol immediately after writing my final exam. Instead I’m going to have to talk about this movie in itself, how it fares both as a film and as a retelling of this story.

That second point is a big one. Hamlet has been done, a lot, and as the bots point out with their sketch about their all-percussion version, it’s really hard to do anything unique with it anymore. If you’re an acting troupe who wants to give it a try, that’s cool because it means people will get to see live theatre, but if you’re making a movie you really need to bring something new to the table. An interesting interpretation, an actor or director that people really want to see, an unusual setting or time period, something like that. This Hamlet has none of that.

I am reasonably sure that what the movie is trying to do is to look like a stage play, much as The Magic Voyage of Sinbad was trying to look like an opera. Sinbad pulled it off with extravagant sets and operatic bombast. By contrast everything in Hamlet, from pillars to thrones to flights of stairs, looks like it’s made out of concrete. There is very little music, which somehow makes the whole thing feel even more doom-and-gloom-y than Hamlet already does. The costumes go for a semi-fantasy look somewhere between Elizabethan and medieval, which is very stagey, and the effect is heightened by the fact that most of the characters never seem to change their clothes. The actors don’t look comfortable in them, though, which means they look uncomfortable in their characters as well. Queen Gertrude in particular looks like she’s too worried about damaging her gown to move easily in it, and the giant chain around Claudius’ neck is absurd.

Adding to the impression that the movie was shot in somebody’s basement, it’s lit very pootly when it’s lit at all. A lot of shots are quite dull, lit in a way that shows where things are but doesn’t create mood or drama. The film is in black and white and the characters wear black, or at least colours so dark you can’t tell the difference, which leaves night shots (such as the one where Horatio and the guards are chasing after the king’s ghost) looking like a bunch of heads floating around.

It is, of course, very difficult to judge a dubbed performance. The actors we’re watching appear to be going for a sort of heightened melodrama, part of the idea that we’re meant to feel like we’re watching a stage play. The dub actors, on the other hand, don’t seem to have gotten the memo. A lot of them mumble, particularly Maximilian Schell as Hamlet, which is really weird because he’s dubbing himself. Sometimes they manage to make the Shakespearean English sound very natural, but that often jars with the physical performances. I have no idea what sort of accents some of them think they’re doing. There are a few who don’t seem to be trying to do an accent at all, while others sound like they’re aiming for British (because it’s Shakespeare?), German (because the movie’s German?) or Damn Worwelf.

Most of the actors are kind of bland-looking, and those who stand out do so because they look weirdly wrong for the parts they’re playing. Polonius with his little mustache looks like a physics teacher who feels naked because he’s not wearing a necktie. He’s also dubbed by John Banner, so if you keep hearing this is so klandinkto! every time he speaks… that’s why. If Hamlet himself looks familiar, it may be because Maximilian Schell was Dr. Reinhardt in The Black Hole, or maybe it’s because he looks a lot like the guy in Atlantic Rim that I referred to as MacGuyver. He’s a very fine actor who won an academy award for Judgment at Nuremburg, but he’s way out of place as Hamlet. His Hollywood good looks and crooked little smile make it feel like he’s trying to play Hamlet as a dashing heartthrob.

For all that, there are a couple of moments in this movie that I quite like. The scene in which Hamlet is nodding and smiling to the wedding guests while the Too Too Solid Flesh soliloquy begins in voiceover is quite nicely done. It gives you a very visceral sense of this man who is forced to bottle up his anger and grief. I also like that during the Murder of Gonzago scene, the camera focuses not on the players but on the audience reaction. Claudius and Gertrude smile at each other when the players talk about love, and then grow uncomfortable as the play condemns re-marriage. Ophelia’s embroidery is an attempt at symbolism, the arum being a popular funeral flower. Too bad it’s so in-your-face that it loses all subtlety.

On the whole, though, Hamlet is just dull. The spartan, ugly sets and dark costumes offer us very little to look at, and in some of the darker scenes there’s almost nothing to see at all. The physical and dub performances don’t match, and neither hold the attention. Watching it feels like a two-hour slog through a tarry morass of depression.

I kind of wonder what the purpose of this movie was supposed to be. It was made for TV in the sixties, and I guess it was an attempt to capitalize on the Germans’ love of Shakespeare – because Germans do definitely love Shakespeare, sometimes considering themselves to have a better claim on him than England because unlike the English, they respect him. More Shakespeare plays are performed in Germany every year than in England, and in the leadup to World War II the Nazi regime tried to get rid of him, couldn’t, and had to settle for picking and choosing which translations were ‘German enough’ for them (this always reminds me of the joke about Hamlet being better in the original Klingon).

If this is the case, I would like to know what the Germans who saw this movie in its original broadcast thought of it. Sixty-year-old reviews of made-for-tv movies in foreign languages are hard to find even online, so I honestly have no idea. I know that people who have seen this English version hate it, and I have a hard time imagining it being much better in German even when you love Shakespeare unconditionally. The fact that the Germans do love Shakespeare just makes it seem that much more likely that they’d consider this dreary pork-filled version an insult to him.

It’s also interesting to think about what made the Best Brains pick this one out as an MST3K project. The movie is definitely bad, and in its own way it fits right in with a lot of the black-and-white crap from the Joel era that tries so hard to be important and just ends up being depressing. Yet the source material remains as something a lot of people would consider untouchable (the Germans being high on that list… although Shakespeare himself, purveyor of fine penis jokes to Her Majesty the Queen since 1591, would probably be totally okay with the MST3K treatment. He must have heard way more vicious audience commentary). My guess it was something they considered a challenge to themselves, in the same way as RiffTrax tackled Casablanca just to see if they could do it. The Amazing Colossal Transplanted Sci-Fi Channel Episode Guide entry on the episode is kind of interesting, as Kevin mentions the feeling that they had to be funnier than usual in order to live up to the play’s legend.

My high school English teachers (the same ones who inflicted The Most Dangerous Game on me) insisted that Hamlet is a play which should make you think. I’m pretty sure this is not what they meant, but the thing I’ve always found myself thinking about while watching or reading it is the idea of marrying one’s brother’s widow. The church of the time said that this was equivalent to marrying one’s own sister (Claudius indeed calls Gertrude our sometime sister) and frowned upon it most heavily, and this would have been common knowledge in Elizabethan England because it was Henry VIII’s excuse for divorcing Catherine of Aragon and marrying Anne Boleyn, Queen Elizabeth’s mother (never mind that he’d also fucked Anne’s sister Mary). By portraying this as villainous behaviour, Shakespeare was sucking up to the Queen, emphasizing that her mom’s marriage was way more legit than Catherine’s. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#mst3k #reviews #hamlet #tw: incest #60s

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1358456 · 5 years

Text

Review Response, June 16-22, 2019

Got a lot of stuff! ... Thanks to one person, mostly!

... Really missing those single line breaks...

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Wings #004

1) Heyo, I saw your responses to my reviews. I forgot my password when I read Wings and I didn't want to go through the whole resetting password thing, so I went in as a guest. I didn't really intend to come back to FanFiction, hence the random keyboard smashing username, yet here I am again to read your stories! Haha. I suppose I'll just keep my original username here.

Anyways, back onto the review! I really found this chapter to be amusing and engaging!

I should have realized Black was there! Rereading the last chapter, I missed the "loud" voice. Oops! And as much as I would love to see familiar faces meeting our lovely protagonist Y here, I like how you're going at a steady pace so the introductions won't be rushed. It makes the eventual meetings better, and I'd look forward to them more that way. (Highkey looking forward to Diamond to appear!)

Crystal as the soccer coach is so, so fitting. And the more I read about Y's struggles to do well, the funnier it gets when she fails due to her own recklessness or other people's mistakes. And when she had enough, she reminded me of a Rhyhorn stampeding through the field, bashing away any poor soccer players that were in her way. She's definitely going to join the soccer team now. ...the team is filled with hotheads.

Oh, hi Gold! Fancy seeing you here! I wonder if he's a teacher as well? Maybe another coach? ...is he and Crystal a thing yet? Asking for a friend.

Hey, you’re back to the old familiar ID! Hehehe.

Ah yes. Black’s inclusion was a subtle hint in the last chapter. The only hint being the italicized “loud”, indicating that he was in the soccer team somewhere. And yes. Y is going to be meeting the other familiar faces slowly over time. I mean, my favorite Dex Holder Platinum hasn’t even been mentioned yet, and it’s been 4 chapters. I’m taking things quite slowly in that regard, because it makes sense. A 1st year student is not going to be meeting all sorts of 2nd and 3rd year students right off the bat, you know? And oh yes. Diamond is definitely going to be in Wings. I think he’ll be the first Sinnoh Dex Holder that Y will meet.

Yep! Crystal as soccer coach! Definitely! And oh, Y. She’s like a rampaging Dragon when frustrated and pissed off, plowing through everything in her way, whether it’s her teammates or the opponent. Hehe. A soccer team filled with hotheads. Oh dear. Hahaha.

Nah. Gold is no teacher. What could he possibly be teaching in Wings? No, no. He’s there for a different reason that’ll be covered later. And yes, Gold and Crystal are in a relationship. They are “a thing”. Obviously it’s not going to be getting a whole ton of focus, but it’ll be there.

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Destiny #007

1) Its confirmed, eh? This entire thing was orchestrated by Peter. Not that I'm surprised, it's just nice to have clarity on that part. Anyways, I can definitely see Blue doing something she'll regret later. I mean if it says that Blue will probably help, then she just might. But I don't think she would help knowing it'd hurt the other dexholders. If she helps Peter it'd be because he somehow tricks her into doing it. But hmm, there's only one way to find out. And that's to read more chapters. Also, that small little tidbit about Black's feelings on the whole light stone matter I thought was really nice. I'm not exactly sure how, but it tied that entire part together. And it definitely made everything seem more real. I feel like I'm just being dramatic, but that's how I feel on the matter. And just wanted tp congratulate you on that part 'cause it was wonderful written. Well, the entire chapter was wonderfully written, but I can only hope you know what I mean. Speaking of Unova dexholders. That particular scene with Ruby, Sapphire, and White; I thought although great to read, was not how I imagined it going down. I think I explained this in one of my previous reviews, or at least predicted it. But now that I think about it, it's completely plausible. And one last thing before I end this review. I just realized that it's been quite some time since we've seen Green. Haven't read anything in his point of view since he found out that Blue left and set out to look for her. Which makes me wonder. Will you write his perspective while he's searching hopelessly for her? Or right before he spots her somehow? Cannot wait to see things from his perspective again! Makes my urge to smack him lessen. Fucking asshole, I know he didn't mean to do that especially in that way. But god was that a jerky move. Low-key wanna punch him senseless, but oh well. I'll just have to read his P.O.V. in order to be satisfied. Again, thank you!

The continuation!

Yes. Blue, despite wandering off on her own and thus being led astray, is still a good girl at heart. She wouldn’t willingly help in hurting her former friends. She would more likely simply walk away and not interfere than actively hurting them. But... there really is only one way to find out, eh?

I guess Black escaping the Light Stone in that fashion is kind of amusing in hindsight, now that he’s actually free. Hehe. ... And is partly plot relevant later on :) And yes. A part of my “headcanon” with Black & White is that Black is forever fated to be indebted to her. Nothing serious, but enough that he’d be more compelled to care for her. Something stupidly sweet like that. Hehe.

The meeting of Ruby and Sapphire with White? This is basically the easiest way for me to drag Black and White, who are completely unrelated to the whole Mega Hunter shenanigans, into the plot! It’s a natural conversation that leads to White tagging along for the sake of meeting the others. Hehe.

Heh. Green ain’t going to find Blue. He doesn’t even know that she’s not in Kanto anymore. He said it himself too. If Blue doesn’t want to be found, she’s going to just disappear. And it’s his fault. Unintentional, perhaps, but his fault anyways. Because compared to Red, he’s a dick. Hehe.

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Destiny #008

1) WHAT. THE. FUCK. HE JUST TOOK OUT A FUCKING ULTRA BALL AND THEN BRAINWASHED THIS POOR, UNSUSPECTING CHILD? HOW TF DID HE DO THAT? WHY CAN'T THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST KEEL OVER AND DIE? I am legitimately raging right now. He's too goddamn powerful. How are the dexholders going to defeat this dude? I mean it was 27 vs 6. That's insane. How the hell did this dude even get his hands on such powerful pokémon anyway? You don't actually need to answer these questions, they're just rhetorical. And I know I'll get my answer later on. Also, speaking of that battle. When Green and red joined in, I swear to god I started clapping. The relief was immense. And reading that scene the only things going through my mind was that this was where Y and Ruby are going to die. Thank god that they didn't. But with those wounds? They can't battle him at his full power, not when they only have three days to recover. And they're not going to spend their days completely recovering. They'll have to pull themselves together and practice. That is, unless Yellow could use her healing power on humans. But I don't think that's the case. And how tf are they going to get that strong in three days? I know somehow they'll pull it of—as that is the way of stories—but as to how exactly they might go about doing that? I'm clueless. Speaking of which... it would be nice to have a story that doesn't go the same path as so many others. Where, somehow, the hero always prevails! Why? Because they're the hero. And, I mean, I guess it makes sense. They're the hero for a reason, but isn't it unrealistic for the hero to always win? To err is human after all. That is, if the hero was human. Don't get me wrong, I love stories with happy endings. It's just sometimes I ponder whether that was the realistic outcome. But anyways, I'm getting off-topic. I'm sure that in your story if the dexholders win, it would be for a very good reason. And it excites me to think of the ways of how you'll surprise me! This has been a long-ass review. I spent forever writing it, and I'm terribly sorry. But I thank you for writing this. Anyways, on to the next chapter!

Assimilation successful. ... It’s a phrase that you would’ve seen immediately in Destiny. I think the first chapter pretty much begins with that.

Hehe. How is he so strong? GAME MECHANICS!! The power of RNG abuse to get shiny IV 31 all things with the desired natures, and then EV raising them for max efficiency! And to make things worse, TEAM SYNERGY! ... And level 100! Because the Mega Hunter and his Pokemon are all based on a real life friend and his HUGE pile of RNGed Pokemon. ... I also have a similar sized pile of level 100 RNGed Pokemon, but I didn’t want to put myself in. That’d be weird! ... Heh. So. How are the Dex Holders going to win? ... I don’t know.

... “As that is the way of stories”... OTHER people’s stories, perhaps. Heh. The “power of bullsh*t” doesn’t work in my stories, you know. None of that “I have the willpower, I will succeed!” nonsense, or “the power of friendship!!”. Heh. “I am the main character, so I can do everything!” ... Nope. Not in here, bud. Hahaha.

2) Oh fuck I got so into writing that review that I forgot to put my name. Yeah the last long-ass review is Mel's.

Don’t worry, I figured! :)

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Destiny #009

1) Oh god oh fuck. So soon! The scouts are coming... which brings me to another topic. How tf did this dude get so many scouts? How is he seeing what they're seeing? And who exactly are these scouts? 'Cause if they're just little children as the scout who got caught, then the dexholders will have no problem. But this dude isn't that stupid, or he is and he's planning on winning because of numbers. Which, I guess, isn't a bad idea. Numbers certainly help, but I mean come on. What a horrible thing to do to brainwash children. This dude is such an asshole and my ahem for him grows with every chapter. What even is the point in causing so much chaos? How will this benefit him? (And coming from a lazy person) Why tf would he go to such lengths? It sounds like too much work tbh. Fuck that, I'd rather stay at home relaxing. But I guess each to their own. Also, the writing in this chapter was sooo well done. It is envy chapter, but this one I loved the uncertainty it exuded, because of the uncertainty in the dexholders. What I guess I'm trying to say is, is that your writing reflects the emotions and thoughts of the dexholders in a way. This might just be me, I felt it was like that. It wasn't too overtly noticeable, but it left me with that feeling. Oh, and also some things I forgot to mention in the last review. I think I might've mentioned this before, but it just made me really happy to see that you kept the characters in... well... character. Incorporating things such as Pearl shouting the moves that the pokémon were going to execute really excite me. That's because so many times writers forget these things. And in the end product, you read something that resembles a character, but isn't quite actually like them. Actually, now I'm sure. I did say this another review. I'm sorry for the repetition them, it just amazes me. Another thing that amazes me, the strategies! You did really well in planning out the strategies in the battles. They were intricate, but easily understandable. And they sounded really effective. Really nice job on coming up with those. Oh, and before I end this. I just wanted to say that the interaction between Gold and Crystal at the beginning of this chapter was great. Still staying on the matter at hand, but also delving a bit into their history. Their relationship... they've broken up... made me sad ngl. But oh well, It's to be expected of that certain relationship. It can either be a really good one... or one that ends in heartbreak. It's definitely complicated for them. But one thing that made me chuckle was when Crystal retorted with "You were the one begging for me to come back to you." or something like that. Like it's so true. That's exactly what would happen, and of course Gold would try to play it so that he was the cool one. But we all know that he was the one begging lmaoooo. Also, the way you wrote in Green's concern for Blue in the chapter made me cry because of how beautiful it was. You didn't touch on the topic, but you made it so clear by his actions and things he said. It reminds me of this one thing C. S. Lewis once said, where it was something like, "Show, don't tell.". And that was a good example of that I thought. Makes me think there's hope for their relationship. Also, I know I talk a lot abut how you're work makes me cry. But goddamn are you also good at writing fluff. And it's incorporated a lot in your stories, even your more tragic ones. It's nice, because it's always good to have a balance. I mean, having a completely tragic story without any elements of happiness isn't a good read. So while some parts are sad, there are so many others where I smile or clap or laugh and the list goes on. I never realized how expressive I am when I'm reading lmao. Anyways, thank youuuuuu again.

How did the Mega Hunter get so many scouts mind controlled? ... Well, there are a lot of fodder class trainers that’ll get stomped in like 0.5 seconds and then get taken. Given established time gap, it’s certainly plausible to have mind controlled a crapton of nameless fodder! ... Well, that’s the excuse, anyways. You always need some fodder, you know?

Heh. Imagine if the villains were lazy. “Aw man. I don’t want to plant bombs in all those places... it’s rush hour...” Why is he stirring up chaos? Hehe. You’ll see later~ ... ... Well of course, you’ll see later. It’s the PLOT. ... Real subtle there, 135. Well done...

Aha, Pearl’s Detector trait in use! It’s often hard to do given just how many Dex Holders there are, but I try to think like “in this situation, what would this group do, and how would the members react?” So in the case of a battle, Pearl would be the first to detect which attacks are incoming since that’s his whole shtick.

The... battle strategies... well, they’re mostly just recreations of what I went through in XY/ORAS battles with the guy who the Mega Hunter is based on. That freaking Eruption, man. ... More of the “asshole combos” later.

Hehe. Yep. Gold got dumped, begged, and is trying to maintain the “cool guy” outlook by pretending that she was the one begging. ... Poor dude. But hey, now’s the chance for him to show just how reliable he is! After all, there’s something about destruction and devastation that brings people together!!

Green’s concerns for Blue that has to be put under because of ensuing chaos. Hehe. This is a loose reference to something that happens in SA, and what Blue says to him: “Can’t you put me on the top of your priorities just once?” Almost a year after that story ended (Dec 2013), Destiny began (Sept 2014), and... sure enough, Green is forced to put something else on the top of his priorities, over Blue. It’s because of his personality. Task first. Personal problems come after the public ones. ... But it doesn’t mean he likes that.

Yes. BALANCE. I write a ton of cutesy, fluffy stuff, along with horrific doom hammer strikes. But the fluffy stuff don’t stand out in memory because they don’t have shock value, but doom stuff do. So the common misconception is that I always write doom. No, I do not. BALANCE! Especially much further on where a chapter is half fluff, half doom. BALANCE. ... That said, I think you will cry a lot though. Hehehe... But hey, you’ll be laughing and clapping, and even shuddering at the pure cute fluff later on as well!

2) Also I meant to each their own kek.

To each their own indeed. In a lot of ways.

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Heart #001

1) So I'm just going to say this before actually reading so I, don't forget.

So Platinum has to pick between the boys...?

OK, but *grabs a mic* WHY NOT BOTH?

*drops mic*

Seriously though, consider the ot3 as a viable outcome, please. Don't just... tease me with the ship 'tag' I guess dunno how to call it in FF

Yes, Platinum has to pick one or the other. Why not both? ... This is a PAIRING. A pair has two members. And forcing all three Sinnoh Dex Holders into a single “pair”ing does not work out for anyone.

The “tag”...

I assume you mean that? I only did that because I couldn’t add Platinum twice. My original intent was to put Platinum with Diamond and Platinum again with Pearl. But I couldn’t put up Platinum twice or have her be in two different pairings at once. And it’s not like I could isolate one of the boys either, because... well, that’s a little... on-the-nose, isn’t it? But to avoid “teasing”, I could just give one of the boys the boot and spoil the ending, which... well, I’m sure everyone who reads my stuff will know anyways.

All three of them together is not a viable outcome. As friends? Certainly. I’m not breaking the Morning Sound trio. In a love relationship? Nope. Not happening. One is going to be accepted and experience pure bliss. The other is going to be rejected and experience bitter heartbreak. It’s inevitable and meant to be. ... Just delayed for as long as Platinum doesn’t realize the situation.

#qna

5 notes · View notes

flydotnet · 5 years

Text

Hidden Guardians of Humanity

VRAINS Rarepair Weeks 2018 - Day 7: Other YGO series crossover/Other Fandom AU

Summary: Six teenagers regularly save the world from the misanthropic virus-like AI XANA on a virtual world. This is their story through one of these missions against humanity's greatest danger yet.

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS/Code Lyoko Ships: Hireshipping (Ema/Akira), Entrustshipping (Takeru/Kiku), Zinniashipping (Miyu/Aoi)

Wordcount: 3.8K words

Notes: "On ira, on saura, sauver notre existence, Se donner une chance de tout dépasser. On ira, on saura, sauver notre existence, Afin de faire, Un monde sans danger !"

I was stumbled at first with what to do for today. All the crossover ideas I had weren't very good... until I thought about Code Lyoko and how it was a perfect fit with VRAINS. A virtual world? Check. Keeping stuff secret from other people? Check. A recurring theme of AIs? Check. I rediscovered CL this year by watching the episodes now all up on YT (I think that's only for the original French dub, though). It's been a big part of my childhood and I surprised myself to like it even more as an adult. It was pretty messed up if you think about it: a bunch of teenagers ranging from 13 to 15 saving the world in secret on a daily basis while risking their lives to do so? That's dark for a kid's show dude. The series wasn't hiding it anyway: I can't count the exact number of ways XANA (a big bad virus-like AI) tried to kill the protagonists in. Anyway.

I changed a few settings. Kadic is supposed to be a middle school (collège), but since it's supposed to be a high school too (funny enough, the school it's based on, the Lycée Lakanal, is where I set a part of my original work), well why not. It fitted much better with the VRAINS cast too. I also took some liberties with the original 2003 run of the show to provide more modern technology like smartphones.

This story is, in short, a love letter to Code Lyoko and to my VRAINS OTPs. I may have forgotten to put the romance into that fic though.

PS. The quote in the beginning is the chorus to the Code Lyoko opening, "Un Monde Sans Danger" (A World Without Dangers). That song has been burnt into my soul ever since I was a kid.

Event hosted by @vrainsrarepairweeks

AO3 version available here.

It was yet another day of class at Kadic High School, Boulogne-Billancourt, Hauts-de-Seine. Nothing out of the ordinary, for once: boring Physics lessons, typical teenage drama, rumours going through the school about teachers and students alike. In that, it made no difference to any other day before it and any other day that would come after it. However, the routine was only a façade in this school near Paris.

Very few knew about the shortcut in the heater room of the dormitory or the one in the school’s park leading the abandoned factory nearby, resting in an island in the Seine. Most people would have just assumed that place was, well, abandoned and empty. The fact was that: that was wrong. That fact was proven untrue by the presence of a bunch of teenagers going there to save the world on a daily basis.

However, today was a tranquil day in class of rumours and drama. There was always Naoki Shima spreading some kind of rumour on his idol, an e-sport player named Playmaker, which was mostly talked about by fangirls of him around the campus. Meanwhile, a little group of six students was gathering in their usual spot: near the coffee machine, on a bench, waiting for bell never to ring the beginning of classes.

They had formed this little group of friends of theirs in unlikely circumstances. It all started when Ema, from the twelfth-grade class majoring in computer sciences, discovered a way to access the abandoned factory in the river easily after a boring day of school. She apparently had to drag with her Akira, her classmate and a friend since middle school, there. Afterwards, they accidentally dragged with them Aoi, Akira’s younger sister in tenth grade, when she followed them to the factory on one day and stuck with them ever since. With Aoi came her own classmates Takeru and Kiku, who followed suit after they themselves found out about the factory by being friendly to the otherwise isolated Aoi.

“Hey, guys,” Takeru opened the conversation as he looked at the other students in the courtyard. “It’s been a while since XANA last attacked… You think he’s going to come back soon?”

“I hope not,” Kiku replied with the most honesty in the world. “He almost killed sent everyone to space last time… We were lucky you were competing in the martial arts tournament that time, Takeru!”

“XANA will always come back until the Supercomputer isn’t turned off, I’m afraid,” Akira stated as he came back with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Then that means you need to find the program to materialize Miyu soon!” Ema enthusiastically added as she thanked Akira for the cup of coffee. “It’s on me next time.”

“I’m doing what I can, but it’s going to take longer than expected. Last night was a fluke again,” he sighed as he rubbed his eyes with the hand not busy holding a cup. The yawn would be for another day.

“It’s fine, big brother,” Aoi simply said as she looked at him with a tiny smile. “You’re already doing your best, and Miyu has told us that before.”

“Your sister is right, Akira, don’t overexert yourself for that! I don’t want to recover your unconscious body on the floor of your room again and almost get scolded by Jim again for sneaking into the boys’ dorm for that!”

Takeru and Kiku simply giggled at the anecdote despite how many times Ema had already told them about it.

During Maths class, as usual, Ema was on her phone during yet another boring lecture from the teacher. There had to be someone watching over Lyoko when nobody could be at the factory in case an activated tower, XANA’s gateway to their world and all the potential damage that would always bring with it, showed up in the virtual world. That was a nice way to spend time: instead of sitting through a painfully tedious session of mathematics, she could just chat with Miyu and whoever else was online. It was funnier to be there and occasionally see Akira stare at her to be serious during a class for once.

He only didn’t ask her to stop on the spot because she otherwise could refuse to lend him their philosophy lessons whenever he’d simply stop understanding most of it. The confusing words and concepts didn’t work very well with his arithmetic brain. It was a fine compromise, though.

Right when she was about to point out something funny Aoi had said in the chatroom with Miyu, she heard a strange buzzing sound. The neon over their hands started flickering ever so slightly, before the infection spread to the entire ceiling of the classroom.

“You know what this means?” she asked Akira in a whisper.

“A XANA attack. Did Miyu tell you about an activated tower?”

Her eyes immediately darted to the screen, only for a message to confirm their fears. Akira didn’t add anything more.

“Then what excuse do we throw?” she asked again, eyeing the little app she had on her phone she had freshly finished programming in her spare time (or whatever was left of it these days).

Before she could ask anything, the bell rang. Their eyes bolted in different directions, checking for two different parameters: hers to the teacher, his to the hour on his phone. The former didn’t have a watch, the second didn’t match the time class ended at. As everyone was packing their things together to change classrooms, another ring resonated through the corridors: the fire alarm.

“Okay, it’s definitely a XANA attack”, Akira stated the obvious. “Warn everyone to meet together at the factory before we can get spotted by teachers or monitors.”

“Roger that.”

It always took some time to reach the factory and gather everyone. That was why they had this habit of only meeting in the main computer room instead of in front of the factory, giving them more time to fight against whatever XANA had to throw at them on Lyoko. Akira and Ema had arrived first and launched themselves in the elevator to the main rooms before getting joined by Aoi shortly thereafter.

“Takeru and Kiku will be a bit late,” she told them, “I think they had class on a higher floor and had more troubles exiting the school.”

Moments after, the three had taken their respective spots: Akira at the main computer, Ema and Aoi in the cylindrical scans on the floor under the computer room. He had never been a man of actions and was the only one with a real knowledge of how to use the technical beast that was the Supercomputer. Meanwhile, Ema had always loved the thrill of action: fighting creatures on Lyoko was good way for her to exhort her thirst for a way to break away from the real world, even if it was just for a few minutes. Aoi was calmer, but still followed through when she learnt this could help both her brother and the friend she had found in Miyu.

“Are you ready to get virtualized?” he asked them as they set foot in the room, footsteps resonating on the iron floor.

“Of course!” Ema replied with thrill in her voice.

“I am,” Aoi responded more seriously.

“Then let’s get on with it.”

Four scanners presented themselves to the two girls. Each climbing in one, the virtualization process didn’t take more than thirty seconds anymore. They were used to it: getting transferred inside a virtual world wasn’t painful, at best it was dizzying the first few times. Soon enough, Aoi and Ema found themselves in a forest-like environment, all changed up to battle attire. It wasn’t just for show: if Aoi had wings, it was because she could use them to fly. Ema, who hadn’t design herself in her subconscious mind to get those, was kind of envious.

“Miyu should be nearby waiting for backup,” Akira’s voice arrived from the sky of Lyoko’s Forest territory. “Be careful to monsters, XANA has been waiting for us.”

“As usual,” Ema sighed, amused. “Let’s do this, Aoi.”

As they ran to their destination, a tower with a red halo, a girl with long pink hair in pigtails and blue eyes joined them. Aoi’s eyes started to shimmer as soon as they noticed her coming towards them, changing her sprinting direction to directly meet up with their friend. They had a habit of hugging each other as soon as they saw each other too. They had gotten more and more physical when meeting up in Lyoko, to the point of holding each other’s hands nowadays when seeing the others. Ema was certain that, would Miyu know about love like any other girl (despite being a sentient AI that was, frankly, more human than some actual humans she knew), they would already be dating. She remembered overhearing Aoi train herself to declare her love to her friend in her dorm room, after all.

“I’m glad to know you’re alright, Miyu!” Aoi told her as they went back to reaching the tower.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Aoi, Ema! XANA has sent three Bloks who are guarding the tower, we need to be careful!”

Turning her eyes away from the two friends, Ema noticed one of the Bloks shooting at them.

“Out of the way!!”

Pushing Aoi and Miyu out of the line of fire from the creature sent to them, she took a direct hit to the shoulder from a laser beam, falling to the ground. Trying to shoot back with her own laser arrows at the creature, she was at least relieved to see Aoi and Miyu had made it behind a tree to find a way to shelter themselves from the incoming attacks.

“Ema!!” Aoi’s scream was accompanied by the mirror of Miyu’s mirror reflecting the hit the older girl was about to take, which would have certainly devirtualized her. The Blok took the hit right in its eye, exploding shortly after.

The commotion from this encounter passed, the three girls hid behind the very same tree. There were mock Bloks in the area, almost twice as much as they had first expected. As she watched from behind their little hiding spot, Ema could only notice this would be harder than expected with Miyu virtually unable to fight for herself and herself having taken a hit already.

“That was such a close call!” Miyu sighed in relief. “We really need to be more careful…”

She was holding onto Aoi’s hand as she said so, her sceptre in her other hand. Nobody knew where that weapon came from, really, but they had brushed it off as a mere way to self-defend against XANA’s monsters who, as it turned out, mostly used laser beams with long ranges to attempt ending her own life.

“Let’s be more careful until Takeru and Kiku can get here,” Aoi decided, with the two others nodding in agreement.

“Sorry we’re late…!” Takeru said as he entered the main computer room, breathless.

Akira immediately turned around, his one-ear headphone-microphone still on, a smirk drawing on his face. Backup was finally here.

“Jim tried to prevent us from reaching the factory when we tried to go through the heater room shortcut,” Kiku further explained.

“I see. Ema and Aoi required backup, there’s apparently too many monsters for them to deal with.

She glanced at her childhood friend whose back was against the wall, still not recovering his breath.

“Are you okay, Takeru?” she asked with concern all over her tone, hands on her chest.

“I… I’ll be fine… Let’s get to the scanners quickly, I’m sure Aoi, Ema and Miyu need our help…”

Even if nobody added anything, Akira turning back to the monitor to make sure this wasn’t a burning failure yet, Kiku remained worried. As the elevator went down another floor, she couldn’t get her eyes off Takeru and how flimsy his breathing was. He had never had a pristine health record, and that despite how good he was at martial arts, which made it so she was always concerned in some degree for his condition.

When the doors opened to reveal the scanner room, she handed her friend her help. He gave her a slight smile, a quiet way to tell her not to worry, as they climbed into their own cylinders to get virtualized. There was no time to lose and no time to get concerned for Takeru when there was a tower to deactivate and XANA going on a rampage to make everyone deaf by the end of the day through abusing ringing systems, ringtones and speakers.

The two soon enough ended in the Forest territory of Lyoko, with instructions given by Akira to join back the others. Running on their legs, the virtualization keeping them away from whatever feeling of physical fatigue they’d have felt from that, they soon noticed the group of monsters blocking the way and their friends behind a big tree.

“Oh, looks like XANA did already send a party,” Takeru noticed. “Let’s be sneaky and see if we can end them without Miyu being targeted by them.”

“Agreed.”

“Takeru! Kiku!”

Miyu seemed ecstatic to see them arrive, screaming their names in joy. Only then did she put her hand on her month, remembering XANA’s monsters could hear them. It was easy to make a diversion, but that was it.

“Akira!” Ema yelled to the sky to get their control tower’s attention. “How much enemies are they?”

No response.

“Oh God, that’s bad,” she then spoke to herself. “He must have been knocked away from the main panel.”

“Something happened to my brother?” Aoi panicked immediately thereafter, before clutching Miyu’s hand to keep her calm.

“It may have,” Kiku added as she joined them. “One of us needs to go check.”

They stared at each other, before Ema decided to take the head of things.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan. Aoi, you stay with Miyu to make sure she arrives to the tower in one piece! I’m going with Takeru to face them directly, while Kiku shoots them from the back. I’ve already taken a hit and Takeru has a powerful long-range weapon. Everyone’s good with that?”

“Roger!” Everyone replied in unison as they split in groups.

Ema had in her mind the secret hope of being devirtualized immediately. Takeru had less health point than she did, but she had already taken a hit and was the only one with any knowledge of the Supercomputer outside of Akira who seemed to spend a huge chunk of his nights on it. It was a perfect match for who had to go back to the real world to check on their friends.

She could see Kiku in her white kimono-like robe, braid flowing through the air as she ran and ran, in the corner of her eye running behind Bloks to stab them with her spear in their top eye, jumping on them, braid going up and down, causing their own self-destruction. She was clearly always going for those targeting Takeru, in a nice touch. The boy was himself with her throwing fire at the enemies, either to blind them or critically damage them.

In the corner of her other, Miyu and Aoi ran with their fingers intertwined, the latter with her own weapon out, ready to jump into action if needed. It was a safer solution for them than for Aoi to hold Miyu as she flew over the battlefield just in case she’d get shot in the wings: would that happen, they’d both take considerable fall damage and risk getting devirtualized. The possibility meaning the death of Miyu if it took place, they preferred to stay safe and go a bit slower. Good stuff there.

Because she wasn’t paying all her attention to monsters, Ema quickly found herself to be devirtualized by a second hit in the chest, making her virtual body shatter in pixels before she could resurface in the factory.

Exiting the scanner after getting forcefully devirtualized wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but Ema had no time for dizziness. She ran as fast as possible to the elevator and rushed her hands over the panel to go to the upper floor. They weren’t strangers to XANA using towers to gain access to the real world. In fact, they were even used to Akira getting attacked as to hinder the progress of those on Lyoko. The question was: what had it done to her friend while she was away in the virtual world?

As soon as the door opened, she realized two things: XANA had used a severed electric cable to do its deed, and Akira was unconscious the floor because of it. Her first thought was to rush to his side, to check if he was doing fine. A hand on his wrist, another on his forehead, and her eyes half-focused on the severed cable which now looked as inert as it should be, she let out a sigh of relief when she heard his pulse.

“You scared us again, you idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to keep an eye on an important mission.”

She gently half-sat Akira against a nearby wall and jumped into the chair facing the screens monitoring everything. Embracing the control tower nature of it all, she picked the headphone and put it on her ear.

“Anyone, you’re receiving me? It’s Ema!”

Everyone or so replied positively.

“Lemme see…” Her eyes deciphered as much information as they possibly could on the monitors. “Takeru, you’re down to 20HP, be careful! One hit and you’re sent back home! Kiku, there should be a Blok behind you! Aoi, Miyu, you’re near the tower, you may be able to fly there…”

She interrupted herself when she saw the cable rise back to life, just as she heard everyone call out for Takeru’s voice. Getting down to her feet, taking a fighting stance, she hoped to be able to fight it back enough to have the time for the boy to reach her room. She knew how to activate the Return to the Past to fix all the damage the buildings around the school must have taken from the excessive sound, if the fact she was able to hear some low-quality rap music from the underground rooms of a factory was any indication, but Takeru didn’t.

Avoiding getting tripped by jumping over the cable’s feet, she was relieved to hear Takeru running towards her. He looked a bit out of breath from running so quickly in so little time, but he took his own fighting stance.

“Ema, get to the computer! I’m sure the others need you there!”

Nodding to him as to confirm his decisions, she jumped back into the chair to see the information: Kiku was close to devritualization with a mere ten HP remaining while Miyu was just about to enter the tower. Trying her hardest to ignore how one-sided Takeru’s fight against the cable was becoming in favour of XANA, she focused on the screens. The boy’s pained scream when his back slammed against the wall didn’t help. Before she could entirely redirect her focus, Kiku had been defeated by a last laser beam.

“Aoi, be careful, Kiku just got eliminated!”

“We know,” the brown-haired girl replied from the other side of the screen. “Miyu is entering the tower now, I’ll try to keep back the last enemies until she can deactivate it!”

“Good, but please make it quick, Akira got stunned and Takeru may be injured from fighting a cable. I’m afraid I’ll be the next, not going to lie there.”

Kiku soon joined the scene, judging from the elevator’s doors opening again and her little steps rushing to Takeru’s side.

“Ki… Kiku…” His weakened voice tried to warn his friend. “Don’t… Come here…”

Without a word, avoiding getting knocked back by the giant cable, she kneeled next to him, her gaze soon fixated on her friend rather than the incoming danger.

“Are you alright, Takeru?!”

“I… I think I’ve broken something against it… But it’s gonna be fine, don’t worry… I’m sure Miyu is about to deactivate the tower…” He gave a timid but warm smile to her.

She gently held him against her, a half-felt one on her lips…

“It’s going to be fine. It’s always going to be fine.”

Judging from Takeru’s weak grip, she knew his hand had been broken in his fight against the machine.

Entering the tower, Miyu made her way as fast as possible to the little panel presented in every tower. As soon as she put her hand on it, the system automatically recognized her, greeting her with the ever same and cold protocol.

MIYU

CODE: LYOKO

The entire tower progressively turned empty as it deactivated. From this little virtual pseudo-cocoon, she could only hope as she looked down everything was fine outside.

Soon enough, the familiar energy wave of the Return to the Past resonated through the virtual world, making her smile as she thought that, once again, everything would be fine and that they had all saved the day.

They were back in the same Maths class, which was still boring, still not interesting. A side effect of using the Return to the Past, obviously. At least, she could safely say that

“Hey, do you remember what happened to you before you got unconscious earlier?” she asked trying to hide her concern.

“I got electricized by a cable, that’s all I can remember. It doesn’t matter much anyway, the Return to the Past cancels every injury we could have sustained.”

“Well, that’s fortunate for Takeru, he broke his hand when fighting the cable.”

Akira suddenly looked very pensive, before having a sort of epiphany flashing on his face.

“That makes me think… I should teach you how to use the Supercomputer, Ema, in case this ever happens again,” he whispered to her.

“I’m not against it. I already know how to use it, as you can see, but you could show me your… special tricks.”

The slight innuendo was enough to make him redden in a moment and look to the side.

“D-don’t phrase it like that…”

She grinned at his embarrassment. He was way too easy to tease, but it was always so much fun.

“Oh, by the way,” she added, “your sister is probably going to get a girlfriend soon, and she won’t even be material unless you come up with your program.”

“E… Excuse me?!”

“Miyu. She’s in love with Miyu and vice-versa. It’s just that you’re never here to see them flirt with each other knowingly or not.”

“Oh. That makes sense, when you precise it that way.”

“I know.”

Now, if she had the same modesty as Aoi, maybe she would have the guts to tell him about her ever-growing crush on him…

#vrains #vrainsrarepairweeks #hireshipping #entrustshipping #zinniashipping #my writing

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tuwam · 5 years

Text

spill.

‘all i’m saying is, whoever they are, they’re probably real fuckin’ tired of you tae.’ “what makes you say that?”

( the soulmate au where your soulmate feels your physical pain from the moment you’re born, ft. taeshik @rosaeau )

taeyang says it like he doesn’t know, like he hasn’t heard it a million times. even now, he’s wrapping gauge around his right ankle, injured not because of dancing but because of his clumsiness. a running accident, a run to get to the studio because he was late. a run that turned into a tumble, and a trampling over materials and onto the stage but into a fit of pain. the doctors had a field day when they’d heard.

because taeyang was clumsy. extremely clumsy, where it was not only laughable but a tad concerning. concerning to where people asked him all the time how he made it as a dancer with his penchant for accidents. broken bones were scarce but sprains, strains, popped sockets and bruises were common.

‘your head’s in the clouds too much’ his mother would say.’ you dream too much of your soulmate, other people would say.

because that’s the kind of world they lived in. the kind where someone’s soulmate felt any pain, identical to their own from the moment they’re born. identical and of the same magnitude, at the same time and in the same spot. for someone as accident-prone as taeyang who’s had bruises and spills since he was a child, his mother would say how she felt for his soulmate. taeyang would just smile as the bruises were tended to and he was patched up over and over. it’s no wonder he’s decided to intern as a nurse.

the pain part was tricky enough, the magnitude increases the closer the soulmates are. the scars even appear and disappear the closer the soulmates are. that’s it though. other than that there are no surefire ways to figure out who your soulmate is other than dumb luck. taeyang’s only dumb luck has been that he hasn’t suffered a serious fall in the past weeks training for this show. that and the free gift card he’s managed to swindle off the fall raffle.

he puts the final touches on the bandages, placing a kiss to his fingers that soon reaches the hasty arrangement. an apology of sorts. he nudges han like he always does, smiling toothily like the pain doesn’t affect him, like he doesn’t take the words to heart.

‘go easy on that ankle, some poor soul is limpin’ around and not for the right reason.’ “ha ha very funny.”

he ignores han’s smug grin and finishes stretching for the day, grabs his bag and heads out the theater.

taeyang’s wondered about his soulmate considering them to either be countries apart or considers them to be a very careful person. other than the pain he’s felt in his childhood, probably from his soulmate being just as rambunctious as him, he’s had no indication, no clue as to who his soulmate is and what they might do.

some people have cute stories, stories about how they ran into the same door and recoiled at the same time. stories on how they pricked their finger on paper in kindergarten and the person next to them got the same cut. hospitals tend to hear the funnier ones, about how boys will experience feminine pains and are subsequently brought in only to be told their soulmate is just reaching their age. men being brought in on wheelchairs beside their wives who are in labor. women in labor with their husbands who feel no pain at all.

not as funny but interesting nonetheless.

his mother? rambunctious as she was, went to a concert and hollered so much she lost her voice, the next day another kid in her lecture class had lost his voice. it was presentation day, hard for them not to notice one another. his dance teacher? easy. a sprain on-stage and an admirer in the audience subsequently yelped the minute it happened.

taeyang’s surrounded by the stories, the proof of it happening. even days like this he hears han curse to himself, apparently his soulmate’s close and a rather heavy drinker because the morning headaches have been killing him. taeyang thinks that’s why han’s been dancing without stretching lately, a form of subtle torture. it’s annoying but kind of endearing, the unspoken relationship people have with someone they haven’t met.

taeyang has nothing to go by and so even as people tease him about his own clumsiness he often thinks, maybe they don’t exist. he likes to think it, just to save himself the silent apologies before he goes to bed. or the small kisses he gives himself after each and every bruise.

it also makes things a bit easier. gentler. bruises and all.

“another sprain?” ‘not quite, your soulmate’s a busy one though.’ “too busy.” ‘if they stay off it, it should heal. here’s some pain-killers and an ice pack.’ “i’m fully stocked, thanks for seeing me though doc.” ‘no problem. just a minor roll, nothing major.’

‘another sprain tae?’

he’s too used to this, or rather, everyone around him is too used to this. even in his scrubs the gentle limp he walks into the hospital lobby with gives him away. he gets a few snickers from the nurse assistants at the check-in desk before suji is on him, inspecting and questioning.

suji’s another success story ( taeyang thinks he’s surrounded by too many ). suji met her soulmate, ironically while administering a shot to a patient. aside from the fact that the man was fawning over her when she stepped in, one pinch from the needle and suji was so startled that she shrieked and yanked it out right away. the man was fine and after several apologies and checkups to make sure nothing entered where it shouldn’t - he asked her out on a date. the rest is history.

so of course the first thing she’ll do is question him on the soulmate thing.

“hey suji --- not a sprain but I rolled it this morning headed to practice.” she’s still bent over, lifting at his slacks to inspect the handiwork. ‘damn, will it affect your performance?’ the concern comes first, him and suji having been co-workers for a while now. he gives her a smile, a little awkward because he knows what’s coming. also because she’s still fidgeting with his pants leg in the middle of the nurse quarters. “should heal before opening night.”

‘hm. so what’s that - third sprain in the past six months?’ taeyang groans and promptly makes his way out the quarters and to his rounds. ‘when your soulmate meets you, they’re going to skin you.’ “doc’s going to skin you if you don’t attend to your final rounds.”

he spends the rest of his day grumbling to himself. about how he hopes the sprain doesn’t affect his soulmate’s performance, whoever they are and with whatever they do. how maybe he doesn’t have a soulmate and he shouldn’t even care. about how he wished everyone would stop commenting on it like he does this on purpose and maybe not having one would someone make it better to bear.

it doesn’t help. however, the breaks suji gives him to ice his leg, and the ride in the wheelchairs make him feel a bit better.

‘i swear this asshole’s got it out for me.’ han says the minute he walks into taeyang’s apartment. tae’s got his ankle elevated, and iced properly. the great british bake-off is on the television and he’s got a tub of ice cream to accompany him. han takes on look at him and whatever he’s about to say leaves in favor of him chugging another tub into the couch.

“i love you.”

not being able to dance much makes him antsy, so he spends the time he would be practicing extra, bingeing shows. their instructor has long since kicked him out the studio because he mopes around so much.

‘you’ll get a stomach-ache shoveling that ice cream.’ “don’t care.” because he knows where this is going and he’s glad han didn’t mention anything about the soul-who-mate and the bond-whatever-thing. “who’s got it out for you other than teacher kim?”

‘my fuckin’ soulmate.’ said after han’s grabbed a spoon and lounged beside his friend. taeyang holds the tub over, eyes never leaving the screen and keeps it steady while his friend digs a big scoop into it. the great thing about breaks is the diet can break and their instructor will never know.

‘swear this kid has an issue, it’s not even eleven and my head’s already spinning, teacher kim let me leave practice early.’ han’s legs are up, underneath taeyang’s for support, but up nonetheless. “remember that night you were throwing up for two hours? maybe this is payback.” taeyang doesn’t know why he’s entertaining the conversation but he might as well. it’s his silent payback for all he endures from his friends and colleagues. doesn’t feel too good but he manages a smug grin after he says it, especially when han’s shoving at his side, light but with good measure. ‘i’ll pay him back when i kick his ass.’

there’s a sentiment.

“yeah yeah.” so they go back to eating.

taeyang’s been off his ankle, well his feet, and trying to stay in good spirits. the theater keeps him banned unless there’s changes to his positioning, and the hospital keeps him front desk and off rounds. can’t have a nurse doing rounds in a wheelchair is what they said.

so he’s sitting there, twiddling his fingers around, checking in and filing paperwork. it passes time, time he would prefer not surrounded by new nurses hoping to get their love story with their soulmate at the hospital. he’s got an hour until he’s off and ready to shovel another tub of ice cream. his stomach’s been surprisingly resilient.

he’s handing back papers when it happens.

and taeyang, like in all the stories he’s heard, yelps. yelps instantly and in a way that causes the water to topple onto him and the patient he’s handing the papers to. if he weren’t too busy examining his fingers he’d attend to them, but suji’s already doing so. apologizing in his place and eyeing him like he’d grown a head.

'tae what’s wrong?’ suji is at his side asking after following him to the back. “my hands------.” taeyang - who already bruises easily, is eyeing both of his hands that are currently on fire. literally, they feel like they’re burning and not the kind he’s used to when he’s been pulling stunts for hours. fire like they’ve been dipped in hot water. “they’re burning.” they’re shaking and suji’s quick to hold them over the faucet. her hands are quick, as are her questions. ‘think you were exposed to anything?’ “no, i was front desk all day.” ‘did you spill any coffee when you handed those papers back?’ “you know I don’t drink coffee.”

he doesn’t mean to snap, the pain’s fading anyway. as quick as it hit him, it’s starting to dull into a slight ache. suji’s still giving him the same look, some concern still present but now it’s merely confusion.

taeyang’s shift ends around 4:00pm that day, but he gets more and more shocks like this throughout the afternoon and into the night. the same quick burn, though not as painful, always as annoying and switching from his hands to his wrists to even his thighs. han is laughing with every yelp and curse.

‘guess this is their payback.’ taeyang’s busy wrapping a wet cold rag around his hands and balling it into a fist. it’s soothing for now and he has a feeling he needs to buy some aloe tomorrow. he focused on the sensation that he almost doesn’t hear han, almost doesn’t want to.

but there’s no other explanation for this. and even as he scowls, elbow propped on the kitchen counter, a part of his chest leaps in relief.

‘you look dead inside.’ “leave me alone han.”

it was cute the first few days. it’s been a few weeks and now it’s getting old. the pain that is. taeyang’s more or less used to it. the time periods fluctuated but now they happen for about seven to eight hours, midday. they’re not as long anymore, still as painful. taeyang cannot being to imagine what his soulmate does. doesn’t want to. he just wants to stop the sharp pain that’s been attacking him. the same pain that’s heightened whenever he’s at the hospital and surprisingly enough, he’s at the hospital more for as long as this injury persists.

so he just sits at the front desk jumping in his seat each time.

han’s paying him a visit on one of his rare off-days. really he’s slacking off to rub this in his face.

‘just think, you and your soulmate have never been closer.’ ‘people would kill to be this close to their soulmate.’ suji pipes in, she’s been bandaging and re-bandaging his fingers. taeyang bruises easily so he can recognize the telltale signs of a burn. not serious just annoying.

just what the heck-a-doodle does his soulmate do?

‘maybe he’s a welder, or a blacksmith? that’s hot.’ “shut-up han.” ‘maybe he’s a firefighter, that’s hotter.’ taeyang makes to flick him from over the counter and suji is quick to hold both hands down and firm in her lap. ‘maybe taeyang won’t kill you in your sleep, shut up han.’ han just slides himself along the counter, cheek pressed to what’s supposed to be the most sanitized area in the most sanitized building. taeyang scowls, and suji mirrors him. ‘he’d be doing me a favor these headaches -’ “aren’t strong enough because you’re still talking.” he gets a look, one that can only meet his cheeks puffed and red because he’s had enough of han’s teasing, enough of these damn burns and enough of the soulmate talk. ‘ooooh, soulmate-bound taeyang is feisty. i like this you better can I call dibs and tell your soulmate I saw you first?’ this time taeyang really does flick his forehead, would’ve made to strangle him but he gets another burn and sits himself right back down.

‘paybaaaack.’ han sings on his way down the hall. taeyang - childish and a little fed up is on his way after him.

‘oh, you’re back! soulmate sprain again?’ ( “come back here han!” ) “no, got a few burns, just wanna make sure they’re not serious.” ( ‘testy! testy! doth your soulmate know you're chasing after other men!’ ) ‘they don’t look serious just from here, but I can set you up for a quick check?’ ( “you won’t worry about those headache when you’re six feet under!” ) ‘seems my uh - assistant nurse is busy so I can take you back and take a look.’ “that works, i’ve got to head back to work real soon.” ( ‘you can’t threaten me in a hospital that’s contradicting!’ ) ‘sure thing, give me one second.’ ( “at least people here can help you after I’m done with you!” ) ‘TAE COME WATCH THE FRONT!’

tae’s back, han’s head snug under his arm. he bows sheepishly and quickly to the patient while taking suji’s spot in the chair. ‘behave.’ is all she says and taeyang simply nods, han once again leaning against the counter, whistling like before. taeyang doesn’t pay attention to whoever suji leads to the back, knowing he couldn’t perform a checkup with his fingers like this either way.

“okay but what if he was a firefighter.” he tosses a pen at han and calls it a day.

as the bruises start to diminish, taeyang’s much more careful on his feet as the opening night approaches. he’s put too much in this to injure himself, even accidentally.

( and even if he won’t admit it, the actual confirmation of a soulmate has him a little wary. he could be spiteful in thought but now that he knew, in hindsight he felt bad for all the pain caused from his clumsiness. )

they’ve been rehearsing positioning for hours this past week and this has been one of those accidental all-nighter days. han’s soulmate has apparently been showing him mercy and taeyang hasn’t had a burn in about a month. their teacher however, has increased practice time and taeyang has to make up for time missed. this means nights slept in the studio and fatigue that almost has suji sending him home.

‘time to cash out that gift card!’ han’s slipping a surprisingly energetic arm around taeyang’s neck. the one thing almost knocking him over and the one thing preventing him from keeling over. it’s support like this, and the rush he’s anticipating opening night, that keeps him going. not coffee. taeyang’s not a coffee drinker, hence why he hasn’t sought out the place this gift card belongs to. with his schedule he knows he’ll grow far too accustomed and addicted to the effect of the caffeine, he’d rather tough it out. he’ll indulge in a chai tea but that’s it.

han’s not relenting though and somewhere along the walk, suji’s joined them.

‘you two are the literal walking dead.’ she merely gets a hum, both thankful that the walk to the coffee shop is surprisingly short. figures the gift was to a place that the nurses probably frequented.

it’s cozy, wooden counters but marble flooring, lights up to indicate the coming seasons and chalkboards announcing specials and in-house flavors. coffee shops are tempting.

han’s bounding to the cashier and taeyang and suji walk side by side, suji supporting him with her arm tucked in his.

‘maybe stop overworking yourself yeah?’ said with a small nudge and the only smile taeyang can muster. ‘hey big guy, cough up the card.’ his response is cut short by han yanking him to the front. taeyang’s still processing, the warmth of the shop, of his friends and the few minutes of freedom they have. he looks up and though the eyes don’t quite convey warmth, his chest curls regardless.

because this barista is handsome, a little too handsome. it feels like a set-up. the look he’s getting however, shows that he’s staring a being a little weird. typical.

“hello.” the misplaced greeting, followed by the brow he gets doesn’t help. han smacking his back definitely doesn’t help. ‘what can I get you?’ “o-oh I don’t drink coffee.” ‘this is a coffee shop, you’re aware?’ taeyang’s glad the only ones in the shop are the cashier and his one co-worker, and his friends even if he’s ready to kick them out if they snicker anymore. he feels his cheeks heat up with each passing minute. which is normal, he’s always like this in front of a handsome man, just hwy now when he’s tired as hell and dizzy off good vibes. he can’t think straight but the look he’s getting is telling him he better think or get out. he pulls himself together as hastily as he can. “yes i’m ordering for three. well for them, but mine won’t be coffee - they’ll order and I’ll take whatever’s sweet that isn’t coffee?” he holds the card out, and han supplies right away, ‘he’ll take you he means.’ if taeyang didn’t want to get out of there so fast, he would’ve strangled han immediately. instead he refuses to meet the barista’s eye and holds out the card, satisfied when it leaves his fingers. ‘han let him live.’ suji’s rubbing at his back while han mouths his order enthusiastically. taeyang is busy rushing towards the pick-up area, ignoring han’s attempts to soften the embarrassment and smother him in hugs.

‘ah don’t worry,’ ( ‘oh, you work here?.’ ) ‘at least your soulmate will find the blubbering cute. hopefully.’ “let’s just get your drinks and go.” ( “it’s the only way I could pop over there during my shift.” ) ‘be patient, mr. handsome is making you something sweet.’ ( ‘well that explains the burns.’ ) taeyang is close, too close to strangling han this time, but he’s bounding over to get the drinks. suji’s making her way over as well, opting for a black coffee instead so she’s already got her drink.

‘wow he knows you too well.’ taeyang decides to ignore the comment as he reaches for the drink, ignoring that there’s a be careful written neatly on the side. his cheeks heat up effectively at that. “did you guys tell him i’m clumsy?” he’s defensive and it could just be the fatigue. ‘no, though he was talking with suji just now.’ taeyang fixes her with a look and she throws her hands up. “fine.” taeyang reaches for the drink, ready to warm up and run out.

‘you’re going to need a slip for that.’ maybe it’s the proximity of the voice, right above his head. maybe it’s that it’s not han or suji and the last time he checked those were the only two beside him. maybe it’s because when he whips his head up, he’s not expecting the cashier, maybe another co-worker but not him, calculating gaze and all. maybe it’s the fact that the universe isn’t quite done with him for the day. but taeyang’s halfway into picking up the drink, both hands fasten, when the voice makes him a tad too jelly in his belly, he startles and the contents spill over the top and all over his hands.

he’s far too used to the feeling, but it stills has him dropping the cup abruptly, causing more to spill right in his direction and on the floor. taeyang yelps, as he’s done for the past month and a half. he doesn’t expect the hiss he hears as he jumps back.

despite the lack of people in the coffee shop, it’s quieter than before. taeyang stills, han and suji are no longer laughing and he knows - knows their eyes are on him. just as he knows the cashier’s are as well.

he’s scared to look up. scared to move. he knows his face is as red hot as his hands feels.

‘no way.’ han’s comment makes it inevitable. because there’s no way, but he has to check.

he has to.

he uses what willpower he has left in him and looks up.

sure enough the cashier is shaking out his hand face turned up in a mixture of annoyance and pain. taeyang knows the expression too well. but he’s not too sure, how can he be sure that it was him. he’s staring again he knows it. but the words won’t come.

at that moment the cashier crosses his arms, gaze never leaving taeyang’s, and pinches right above his palm. taeyang yelps again, because for him, that’s the spot where the tea just spilled, sensitive and a little red. barista boy doesn’t yelp at all, though he does hiss a bit, the same hiss he’d heard earlier. and taeyang’s suspicions are confirmed.

and he’s rendered silent again. for less than obvious reasons. not the fact that his soulmate - his soulmate because this man is his soulmate he’d just proved it! but his soulmate - is gorgeous one, and is staring him down right after he’d made a fool of himself. mind the fact that taeyang’s first impression was him embarrassing himself.

what does one even say in this situation? right now he’s wishing han didn’t choose now to be so silent. he could use the embarrassing lines to break the ice.

the cashier beats him to it.

‘you’re the one who keeps falling everywhere he steps.’ “i’m so-so sorry about that.” is all taeyang manages, partially because he anticipated this response. because everything everyone told him is coming to fruition. because he’s sure this man is about to give him an earful about how much he’s suffered. and for some reason, taeyang can’t bear it.

so he bolts.

right out the door. out of his soulmate’s sight.

‘sweetie i head you found them!’ “grhghh.” ‘suji told me he’s very handsome!’ “hmnnhng” ‘what’s their name, you exchanged numbers right!’ “hgghshhshssgghfg.”

that’s how he’s been the past few days. huddled in his room studying, huddled in the back of the nurse’s quarters doing paperwork, or huddled far beside their dance instructor so han can’t bother him.

it’s a lot of things. the embarrassment. the crippling realization that he does have a soulmate. and...the embarrassment.

‘i think this is the safest I’ve ever seen him su.’ ‘i’d prefer if he was bouncing off the walls.’

taeyang ignores them and continues. it’s not just because of his soulmate, he has a show coming up, he’d rather not screw up performance chances on his own clumsiness. ( but yes it has a little to do with his soulmate - the barista - who happens to be his soulmate. )

‘oh, han look who’s here. tae’s been really careful so it can’t be an injury?’ “i’m assuming he’s never this careful?” ‘well, we have a showcase coming up. but even so - this is new.’ ‘he’s just being a little baby about everything don’t mind him.’ ‘just waltz over to him, he won’t know what hit him.’ ‘han.’ ‘seriously, he’s been wrecking him brain about how to speak to you.’ ‘han.’

taeyang’s mopping by the back entrance doors, as far out of earshot as his gossiping friends as well. all they’re going to talk about is how he won’t man up and how uncharacteristically careful he’s being, so he’d rather not be there. rather not face what he doesn’t have not.

‘there you are.’ his muscles should really just prepare for this clumsiness at this point, and have procedures in place. for times like now when he’s so startles he steps back into where he just mopped and feels himself losing balance.

the hand that graces his back and hand is brief but it steadies him. steadies him enough to get a good look at who he’s dealing with, who he’s talking to.

‘don’t you have a showcase or something, shouldn’t you be more careful?’ to that taeyang just blinks. too many questions. how’d he get here? how’d he find him? was he looking for him? why he’s getting scolded, if this was even a scolding?

“our recent show, opens in a week.” ‘so - acting? singing?’ “dancing.” ‘that explains it.’ the look of realization, and the silent oh has taeyang’s face heating up again. he wants to bolt again but the man’s standing in front of the only exit. ‘you look like you’re about to bolt again.’ “no, i’m strategically planning my safe but swift escape.” ‘when do you get off?’ “what - I - in about three hours.” now he’s really planning his escape, eyes flitting from the possible exits and maneuvers he could do around the male and the still drying floor. ‘wait here. when you’re unsupervised you make messes. i’m tired of limping around work and I don’t feel like another stomachache because you stuff yourself when you can’t perform. so where you go, when i’m off. i’ll go.’ “I don’t need a babysitter.” taeyang is indignant, and a little unafraid to show it. ‘i’m not charging you, though I should. think of me as a manager.’ “not sure this an appropriate relationship.” ‘wasn’t aware we were dating.’ that turns taeyang’s cheeks a color he can feel. and has him looking the man in the eye fully for the first time.

he notes a few things, that he’s still in his work uniform with his nametag still on. that his name is hyunshik and he’s probably a few centimeters shorter than taeyang. that the presence he stands with makes up for it, and the look he gives taeyang is unwavering. not challenging but - something.

he swallows.

“i don’t like coffee.” ‘i’m not too fond of ballet.’

they stay like that for another minute before taeyang turns his entire body to face hyunshik.

“i don’t only do ballet.” ‘i don’t only make coffee.’

somewhere along the stare down and the silence, it’s becoming easy.

“i’m taeyang.” ‘i’m hyunshik.’

awkward. but easy.

‘so, three hours? i’ll bring you something so you don’t keel over like last time.’ “I didn’t keel!” though taeyang thinks he’s a little fine with hyunshik thinking that. ‘right. hot chocolate good?’ “yeah. ‘s fine.” it’s becoming easy but taeyang’s throat still closes up. cheeks still burn. and hyunshik still looks calm, smug, a little too controlled. it makes him want to hold onto the mop.

and when hyunshik does turn on his heels and taeyang supports his weight on the mop, he’s five seconds from letting his knees turn to mush when suji and han rush in and demand details.

if taeyang says he hates them when they both sit and watch him after his shift making sure he doesn’t leave, he tries not to show it. even as he sits bundled by the waiting room. even as he tries not to smile when hyushik holds out the hot chocolate he definitely has not been anticipating. taeyang’s thank you if muffled by the foam that reaches his lips. they walk nowhere in particular, though taeyang knows he could probably head home.

“were you serious?” ‘about?’ “being my manager?”

they’ve slowed down, taeyang’s always a little jittery after his shifts end and he can’t go straight to practice. hyunshik’s managed to keep his pace, also managed to keep the silence to which taeyang can’t quite hold onto.

‘i’m not really going to follow you around.’ “oh, so what are you going to do?” ‘what do people do in this situation?’ “i don’t know.”

he really doesn’t, and it’s making him a bit anxious. it’s probably noticeable because with every step that’s slowed, taeyang’s started to fidget more, play his fingers around the cup even more. what does he say, they haven’t even addressed the s-word and hyunshik is just throwing it out there. taeyang wants to meet his level of nonchalance.

but he can’t even meet his eye.

‘i don’t know either. so let’s just focus on keeping you from further injury. okay?’ “okay.”

they don’t address the s-word much that night. nor do they address it for a while.

hyunshik works consistently, diligently too as he’s stopped burning himself with coffee. taeyang does the same, with opening night becoming closer and closer and practices becoming later and later. somehow, taeyang starts to rush over with a bandaid when he feels that little sting, somehow hyunshik stops giving him a strange look even after he tells him he doesn’t need it. just how taeyang stops laughing whenever hyunshik brandishes an ice pack after particularly long nights and watches him ice it, with a determination taeyang sometimes falls asleep laughing at. somehow, taeyang manages to stay out of trouble with the company he’s acquired on walks home and walks to practice.

( somehow he’s managed to find hyunshik’s morning grumpiness appealing, morning grumpiness with his signature drink that is. just as he finds hyunshik teaching him the recipe for the hot chocolate late in the evening when the only light is the dimmed ones of the shop about to close, equally as appealing ).

somehow, when he searches the audience opening night, he knows exactly what to look for and what kind of smile to give. not to suji, holding up the giant sign with silly pictures of him and han. or to the person next to her, a recently familiar face that’s helping her hold up the sign and looking better sober past eight o’ clock. he’s not looking at them but at someone beside them, with their hat pulled a little low but only because he’s probably just got off work and the lights are starting to glare. taeyang knows exactly what smile to give.

shy, but knowing. relieved but giddy.

because hyunshik will say he’s tired of these late night rehearsals, tired of taeyang leaning against him after it all smelling of sweat and adrenaline. say he’s tired of mini heart attacks each time he sees a leap.

just as taeyang will say he’s tired of wearing band-aids. tired of the bruises blooming on his knee each time there’s a bump against the coffee grain cabinet. tired of hyunshik smelling like a coffee barn each time they walk home.

because sure they get a little tired of one another, but he gets it. and he wouldn’t trade it.

BONUS.

somewhere in the far future. ( give or take three months of pining and courting? )

‘it’s hot tae.’ they’re standing in taeyang’s kitchen, now occupied with every ingredient to make and spice up his favorite hot chocolate recipe. the only thing he states he might like more than hyunshik. might. taeyang’s reaching for the mug, a special one he’d bought off the coffee shop during their own winter raffle. he’s wrapped in a blanket because as easily as he bruises, he easily gets sick and hyunshik refuses to miss any days come christmas time.

“i know it’s hot.” he’s been dieting since their show started and today’s his only cheat day before they go back into the swing of things. hyunshik knows and agreed to a hot chocolate and s’mores night to commemorate. he’s basically indulging his boyfriend so he doesn’t whine about his dieting during the holidays. taeyang knows and he’s loving it.

just as he’s loving the smell of the hot chocolate the closer it gets.

‘tae, blow on it first.’ “it’s fineeee.”

it’s not fine and a singed tongue and lip are what he has to show for it. a two second dip in that chocolate beast and he’s recoiling, grabbing for the whipped cream and hyunshik’s taking the mug.

‘let me see you big baby.’ and taeyang’s in pain, a little pouty and clumsy with a mouthful of whipped cream but what else is new.

what’s new is the recent change in their status ( taeyang was quick to add him to his instagram page, with a coffee mug so he could be discreet ) and hyunshik’s general openness about the fact. that is, hands curled around him when he’s cocooned like this, or reaching for his face after the incident. still scowling a tad, still looking calm and a tad bit uninterested. taeyang thinks it’s just his face.

“i’m fine.” taeyang is stubborn and hyunshik cracks the first laugh of the night hands still closed over the younger’s cheeks. half is for how stubborn the younger can be after not listening to him, the other at the fact that he sprayed so much whipped cream, some still left on the same lip he’s jutting out. ‘yeah? you sure?’ “yeah, just a slight burn.” thumbs start to circle his cheeks, eyebrows start to rise and hyunshik for once is looking like the mischievous one. even as he leans in taeyang knows his legs will betray him. even as hyunshik stops when only foreheads touch and breaths cross. he smiles to himself and taeyang can already tell - ‘you’re not going to keel over are you?’ “i hate you.”

but hyunshik closes in and taeyang doesn’t care if he keels or not.

#rosaeau #au.#( i should challenge myself more while i have time but i just wanted something light first #( also hm this got long wasn't expecting that )#{ w: taeyang. }

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