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bunnirs · 4 years

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Scarlet Crossroads:

Chapter 2: Breaking The Ice

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Scarlet Crossroads Masterlist

It felt like hours before most of the exam contestants arrived. Of course, you happened to be exceptionally early, being only examinee 113.

You wish you could’ve said waiting was boring, but a few of the other examinee’s made it extremely difficult to settle down.

There was a wide variety of other characters, their personalities most likely to clash further into the exam, dragging you into the crossfire.

One man stood out to you. He was short, rather full looking, and had an ugly ass beard. Maybe he was a child… seeing as he certainly acted like one. This child of a man was Examinee #16, Tonpa the Rookie Crusher.

It was obvious to you that he was bad news. I mean, he reeked of mold and broccoli. (Well, you thought it was broccoli, but you could’ve been wrong on that. You were hoping, no praying, that it wasn’t the case.

He shifted uncomfortably underneath your stare, somehow growing nervous as he tried to speak. It seemed your aura was suffocating him, how typical.

Anyone who isn't strong enough to withstand it seemed to have that reaction. This just proved he was up to no good.

Your Nen Ability was something close to a Trump Card of sorts. No one would know it existed until it was too late. This poor man had already succumbed to it though, seeing as he was choking on his words.

With a quick inhale, your aura dispersed, leaving the short man to choke on the air that shot into his throat.

“You run a mile or something? Asthma?” You said curiously, a sly smirk seemed to pick at your lips, a laugh growing in your throat.

“No, no! I’m just thirsty! About that, what about a drink? You must be thirsty from your way here? What about we become pals? My name's Tonpa! How about you girly?”

Ew, okay gross. Did this man just call you.. girly? Yeah no, he’s not worthy enough to hold your drink, much less give you one.

With that conclusion, you gave him a forced smile, your eyes narrowing as you stared him down. “That’s really nice of you to offer, but I don’t take things from strangers.”

“Oh huh, really? That’s too bad!” He thought aloud, his expression faltering as he paid close attention to your expression. With each second your eyes got darker, the sides of your mouth twitching as you grew aggravated. Damn, something was up with you. “Your mother must be proud! The whole ‘Stranger Danger’ lesson worked huh?”

“Ah.” You paused, your smile dropping. Looks like the muscles in your face were sore now. Just great. “I didn’t have a mother.” You spoke calmly as you shifted your weight to the other leg, looking down at your fingernails.

With that realization, his eyes almost poked out of his head. He began to spew apologies, falling to the ground in a bow. It was painfully obvious that it was a forced reaction, but you took pleasure in watching him kneel. Okay maybe that’s coming off as too strong? Yeah, maybe it was just funny to you.

With that, you turned on your heel, signaling him off with a mere wave of your hand. Damn old men, they really did freak you out. Usually Chrollo or the Troupe would’ve killed him on sight, but they weren’t with you. The familiar faces began to run through your mind, distracting you from the small white blurr standing in front of you.

In a split second, you could feel your aura activate itself as you collided with another examinee. As if it didn’t startle you, the small kid seemed to be falling off his board. Everything seemed to slow down for you, his surprised face turned into one of anger, and his pupils locked with yours.

You quickly shot out your hand, grabbing his wrist, holding him up so he wouldn’t fall on his back. His skateboard flipped in the air, but it seems he had already caught it. You thought to yourself, ‘Hey that was kind of cool’, and let go of his small wrist.

He shifted uncomfortably, his hair covering his blushing face, his hands clamping up into small fists. “Hey why don’t you watch where you’re going?! If I was someone else, you would’ve been dead the minute you touched me! But you got lucky this time, I don’t really want to pick a fight with anyone just yet.” He smiled confidently to himself, laying his board back onto the ground, his left foot pushing it back and forth. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t come after you, you old hag! Man, people like you won’t ever pass this exam! Especially when you can’t even walk without bumping into people?!”

You didn’t even get to open your mouth before he jumped back on his board, weaving through the crowd, blowing the small strands of hair from his face.

What a spoiled brat. Who the hell does he think he is? Telling you that you won’t pass the exam? Hell, you’d blow through this thing like it’s nothing. All you had to do was get your hunters license, and then shove it into that kids face.

Yeah, sounds simple enough.

That declaration of yours was made almost an hour ago, and now, waiting was getting old. For said hour, you’ve been sitting against the wall, playing with a small rubix cube. Instead of its natural colored squares, small little pieces of duct tape covered the surface. What was written on said tape, were the names of each troupe member.

You remembered Pakunoda spending an hour just writing the names down, wanting them to be spelled perfectly so you could read them correctly. This was years ago, probably when you were nearing age 5, the withered adhesives almost giving up.

Seeing as there were no school opportunities for you, Pakunoda mostly took charge of your education, wanting you to be as smart as possible. She really was motherly in a way, even when she denied it.

Her teaching certainly worked its wonders. Even though you came off as an idiot, your mind worked faster than what was natural. You could tell peoples moves before they even acted them out, which seemed to help greatly in the troupe’s line of work.

It seems they raised you to be a Phantom Troupe member, the spider tattoo being embedded in your mind, almost like a nightmare. It was truly Ironic, considering that you hated the very idea of joining the Spiders.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the elevator, and the doors slowly opened to reveal a group of three.

They were oddly fitting for a friend group. One of them was obviously a child, his innocent face matched his horrible sense of fashion. Next to him was a rather greasy... business man? He looked to be at least in his late twenties? It was an understatement to say that his limbs were of average length, because damn, those arms were long.

Your eyes then glanced over to his other partner. He was shorter, but much younger looking. He looked to be your age, which was very exciting for you. You never had a friend that was actually close to your age. Maybe you’d sneak in a word or two during this?

The longer you stared, the more you noticed about him. He had blonde hair that stopped right behind his ear, his eyes were soft, a calming grey color. If you stared at them any longer you were sure to get lost. It sounded cheesy, but you ignored that thought.

To be honest, everything about him screamed Mom friend, almost reminding you of Pakunoda in a way.

You watched as Beans, the Secretary that approached you not too long ago, gave them their badges. They were numbers; 403, 404, and 405.

They were likely the last ones to get here, which was good news in your book. Finally, the Hunter Exam was about to begin!

A few more minutes passed, and you shifted uncomfortably as you watched Tonpa walk up to the group. You didn’t necessarily care about the two older ones, but the kid seemed to bother you.

That’s when you decided to take your chances and try to rescue the trio. As you thought to yourself, you figured you most likely wouldn’t make it in time to stop them from drinking it, so you did the next best thing.

Your mind spewed apologies as you looked down at the rubix cube that resembled your childhood. With one last glance, you lined it up with the kids' drink. With a strong over handed throw, it spiraled towards the can, completely tearing through the thin metal.

Juice had sprayed all over Tonpa’s face, it’s orange contents seeping into his clothes. Maybe, just maybe, that would help him smell better.

With a quick smile, you cautiously jogged over. You held up one hand, waving as you came in peace. The closer you got, the more you noticed the blonde boy’s eyes. They seemed empty almost, like they were hiding something behind them. Tough childhood huh? You could relate.

You stopped as you got in front of them, rubbing the back of your neck as an act of nervous behavior. Good act. Keep it up. “So sorry guys, sometimes I forget I’m surrounded by other people! I kinda just threw it y'know?”

“That was… so cool!” The smaller boy piped in, his eyes adorned in admiration. “My names Gon! Gon Freccs! What’s your name?”

“Oh.” You were generally surprised by his positivity, seeing as you just knocked his source of hydration from his hands. “The names Y/N.” You held out your hand, taking the kids palm in yours. “Sorry for spilling your drink.. but I can’t say it was purely an accident. This guy has been trying to mess with people, I just felt like I had to warn you.”

With that, the blonde boy and his accomplice poured their drinks out, a disgusted look on their faces.

“Oh really? I thought it smelled weird! I’m glad to know I wasn’t having allergies or something!” Gon muttered the last part, rubbing the surface of his index finger underneath his nose, as if to wipe something off.

You nodded, a small smile reaching your lips. “Well Gon, and his…” you paused for a minute, your eyes meeting the blonde boys. “Accomplices? Besties…? Caretakers?”

“Friends is a better word.” The grey eyed boy said quickly. “My name is Kurapika, and this?” He gestured with his hands, pointing at Leorio’s stomach. “This is Leorio.”

“I think I can introduce myself, you damn blonde!” Leorio interrupted him, yelling in his face, his finger pointing into Kurapika’s chest.

“Oh, it’s quite alright. Seeing as I got it the first time” You said quickly, not wanting to hear it again.

You ignored the taller man as he started to spew nonsense, most of its contents having to do with insults directed towards you. Your small smile seemed to falter, suddenly remembering the very item you had used to save them was not in your hands.

That’s when your eyes dropped to the floor, searching for the old rubix cube that contained most of your memories of home. You felt your heart spike, the feeling of disappointment taking over.

On the outside you remained stoic, your shoulders merely shrugging as you let out a small groan of annoyance. “Damn, I lost that old thing again?”

“What thing?” Gon interjected, standing on his tippy-toes as he rocked back and forth. “You mean that toy?”

You cringed, your teeth grinding together as you glared him down. “That ‘thing’ is not a toy, it’s something very important to me.”

“Must not be ‘very important’ if you throw it at people.” Leorio retorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted his suit sleeve. Why he wore it to an exam was beyond you.

“Well, no matter how important it is, I’m sure you’d like it back?” Kurapika cut Leorio off, trying to prevent whatever fight was about to break out between the two of you.

“Huh?” You broke your gaze with Leorio, only to meet the cold, empty eyes of Kurapika. “Well of course I’d want it back. It is mine after all.”

Leorio started to grow annoyed, most likely with the fact that you were ignoring him. “Hey! Don’t give him that crappy attitude! We’re being nice to you, so don’t overstay your welcome!”

“..You make it sound like I’m at your house.” You looked to him, your face forming into a scowl.

This sent the overdressed man into a blushing mess, his words coming out as broken stutters, his hands fumbling with the hems of his suit. It seems he did that a lot.

“Please ignore him.” Kurapika sighed, obviously embarrassed by his friend’s behavior. “But regarding the object of discussion, I think you should have it back.” With that, he reached his hand out, your rubix cube in his hand.

Your eyes quickly rushed down towards it, your hands quickly snatching from his own, scared that if you touched him, he’d know everything about you.

You let out a soft sigh of relief, putting the cube back in your small bag. Unbeknownst to you, the tape that once held your brother's name, was now somewhere along the ground.

“Thanks.” You muttered, your fingers tingling from where they had brushed against his. “..So, why not break the ice a little? Why are you guys trying to become Hunters?”

The small child opened his mouth to answer, but it seems it was cut short by a blood curdling scream.

You all turned your heads to the noise, being greeted by the sight that was Hisoka.

It seems someone had bumped into him, seeing as they were now in a fetal position on the ground, their arms missing as they disintegrated into little flowers. At least the flowers were pretty.

If matters couldn’t get any more interesting, the large door that you presumed was a wall opened, revealing who looked to be an Examiner.

He wore an all purple suit, his white hair almost looking like a soft lavender. His mustache seemed to cover his mouth, hiding whatever lurked inside of it. His name didn’t matter to you, frankly, none of these people did.

Atleast, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

TYSM FOR READING GUYS!!!!!! ALSO WHAT DO YOU THINK READER’S NEN ABILITY IS????? WGAJDHJWdAJDHkjshdkJhd

I HOPE THIS WAS ENOUGH tO SATISFY YOU THIS WEEK UMMMMMM!!!! LUCILFER READER AND KURAPIKA JUST HAD THEIR IINTRoDuctION TO EACHOTHER SO!!!

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blackbabybird · 3 years

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Forgiven - Chapter 4 - An Event

warnings: self hating bruce mostly and bad words. this is a long ass chapter, #sorrynotsorry kind of got carried away. however, we learn new things more and more everyday ;) also i think isley’s job fits her and bruce v v v well. enjoy:)

I get those goosebumps every time, yeah, you come around, yeah You ease my mind, you make everything feel fine

~ Goosebumps by Travis Scott

I parked my car in front of Cork County Middle School. The school itself was a large brick building in the middle of a corn field. It used to be an insane asylum. I grab my bag and get out of my car to head toward the doors of the school. Once I get up there, I pull on the door. It’s locked. I look at the wall near the doors, they have an extremely fancy security system. I buzz the door.

“Hi there! What can we do for you?” a happy voice rings through the intercom.

“Uh, my name is Isley Thomas. I have an appointment with Headmaster-,” I look down at my phone, “Guille.”

“Give me one second, dear. I’ll get those doors open for you,” her sickly sweet voice came through again.

A second later the massive doors swing open. I’m greeted by two men in riot gear. “Any weapons must be surrendered before entry into property. This includes, but is it not limited to guns, tazers, pens, and ninja-stars.” speaks the large guards.

“Pens?” I ask.

The other guard nods curtly. I shake my head and grab all my pens out of my bag. They take them and put them tightly in between their bullet proof vests. “Follow us.”

What the hell is this place? I walk silently in between the two. We arrive at large double doors with a Medusa head engraved into the doors. The two walk around me and open the doors synchronously. I walk through them towards what looks like the office. That same god-awful sweet voice rings through the hallways, “You must be Ms. Thomas! You’re shorter than I expected. Hm, anyways, follow me.”

So I do. “I never caught your name, Ms...?”

“You needn’t worry about me, sugar. Names get in the way. I’m simply the next vessel for Headmaster Guille. Oh, we’re here! Knock twice then let yourself in, alrighty?”

I nod quickly and do as she said. The room I walk into is white and pristine. Nothing, and I mean nothing is out of place. There’s just a desk and two chairs in the room. No computer or even a cup of coffee, weird. “Please, sit Ms. Thomas.” says a voice from my left.

I sit down in on the chair across from the desk. Slow, loud clacking walks pass me. A woman sits in front of me. She has on black classic pumps, a pencil skirt and a white blouse. I finally make my eyes to hers and that’s when everything starts clicking into place. Her eyes are gouged out in an attempt to recreate Oedipus. “I am headmaster Guille, Ms. Thomas.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me Headmaster. I know you have plenty of other more pressing things to do.”

She turns her head, “Why, my dear, nothing is more important than finding one of my sweet, obedient students.” I nod in agreeance despite my weird feeling towards her and this place. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

“Well, I’m the owner of IT Investigative Services. We do freelance investigative work and are outsourced for police work occasionally.” I explain.

“And your business here, is it freelance?”

I feel my heart dip in a weird way, “No ma’am. The Cork County Police Department needed help and they outsourced me and my company to help with a missing persons case.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie.

“I see.” she says. Her non-existent eyes felts like they were boring into my soul and making a home. “Well, I will say that we told the police everything, not sure what else I could say.”

“Anything helps. Especially when it comes to a missing child,” I say.

“Ask away,” she says splaying her hands outward.

I start asking the basic questions. Just small things I could compare to the recordings that I borrowed from the Cork County Police. Everything was going relatively fine until I seemed to strike a nerve. “So, I noticed that Amos actually lived in Andan County. That’s a 3 hour drive to Cork County. Why was Amos going to school here?”

She opened her mouth a few times with replies, but she eventually settled on, “Amos was a special boy. As are most of the students that attend here. However, he needed correcting. As do all of the students here,” she gives a tightlipped smile.

Now we’re getting somewhere. “Why did he need correcting? Did he do something bad?” I ask simply.

“As with most 13 year olds, he was ill-mannered and bad tempered. He had to be corrected,” she repeats.

“Fair enough,” I nod. Time to go for the kill.“Yet, there is one more thing I’m confused with. Amos was an orphan. One that lived 3 hours away from this county, so who told you he was being a nuisance?”

If this woman had eyes, I know she’d have a look that could kill. Her eye sockets bend slightly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Thomas. We have an assembly soon that I must attend.”

“Of course, Headmaster.” I say as I start packing up my stuff. I walk to the door, feeling her cavernous holes in my back. I go to pull the door open, but then I stop. “One last question,” I say. She looks up at me, “Who reported him missing?”

Bingo. Question answered.

The smile she gave was cruel and mouthy, “Some questions needn’t be answered. Have a good day, Isley.”

I walk out the door and head back to my car.

///

When I arrived back at my car after successfully getting my pens back, I scrutinized the building. Being in there fucked with my mental state. Something was off about the place and I wanted to know more. My phone starts buzzing. It’s Phoebe so I click answer.

“You bitch! I can’t believe you,” Phoebe’s voice screeches through my receiver.

“That’s one way to talk to your boss,” I deadpan.

“Boss or not, you’re literally the worst person I know.”

I scrunch my nose at her insult, “Let’s say hypothetically that is true, what exactly did I do to deserve such a title?”

“Beside be a size 10 in shoes when I’m an 8?” I roll my eyes, “You also never mentioned that THE Bruce fucking Wayne of Wayne Corporation invited us to a fundraiser in Gotham City.”

I sit there listening to her, “How’d you know about that?”

“I was going through your emails and there’s an invite. Also, pause, you knew?” she huffs.

I shrug even though she can’t see me, “It’s just a Wayne Event. It’s not a big deal. I didn’t even know it was a fundraiser.”

“Yeah, he’s going to try and get the Gotham socialites and old heads to give money for a-,” she stops talking and there’s some slight shuffling in the backgorund, “Ah! A metahuman trafficking recovery center. It would be an extension of Arkham Asylum.”

I feel my heartbeat get 10 times louder, “Pheebs, I need to call you later. I’m still here at Cork County Middle and I need to finish some paper work before I drive back tonight.”

I don’t wait for her to say goodbye before I hang up. I start dialing Bruce’s number.

///

One. Two. One. Two. Jab. Hook, hook.

“God fucking damnit,” Jason exclaims.

“The fight not going well?” I ask.

“Bruce. Manny Herechio has to win tonight.” Jason starts.

“Has?” I interject.

He rambles over me, “HAS. I have so much money on this fight. Like, my future children’s money kind of money!”

I shoot him an amused look from my book. “I’m sure he’ll pull it out. Underdogs have a weird way of doing that.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD. HE DID IT! HE FUCKING DID IT MAN,” Jason shakes me.

I smile at him, happy that he’s happy, but then the scene changes. I’m now Batman and I’m holding Jason. He’s barely breathing and there’s so much blood. “You did this. You did this to me.” He breathes out angrily.

“Jay, what? No, I didn’t! What do you mean?” I explain.

“You, the fucking Batman of all people, should have saved me. I’m dead because of you!” He’s now yelling at me.

I feel the panic flutter throughout me. I should’ve saved him. It should’ve been me.

The clatter of my phone hitting the floor shakes me out of my daydream hard. Less of a dream, more like a nightmare. The phone goes off again and I grab it from the floor. Isley Thomas flashes across the screen. I press accept.

“Isley? Hello?”

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” she seethes through the phone.

I pull it away from me. “I can’t catch a fucking break today,” I grunt out. I put the phone back near my ear, “It’s possible I have, but depends on what this reason is,” I joke.

“This event, party you’re throwing is for the business proposal that was between us privately. What the hell, Bruce?”

I can tell she’s upset at what I tried to make a surprise. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“A fucking surprise? For why?” she all but yells into the receiver.

“I presented it to the board,” I didn’t. “And they didn’t like the idea of Wayne Enterprises being the face of metahuman trafficking support centers,” I explain. “Having a fundraiser will show that people, specifically people with money, are interested in defeating the metahuman trafficking.”

I can hear her breathing. “You could’ve just told me that the board rejected it,” she pauses, “I would’ve dealt with it.”

She’s not incorrect. However, I needed a win for today, “You told me that this was Staya’s dream. I just wanted to do everything I could to try and make it come true.”

She doesn’t reply anything. For a second there I think that she’s just hung up on me. “Okay. Next time, let me know ahead of time, please, Bruce,” is all she says. Then she adds, “I have to work. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

I hear the click of call ending and put the phone down. I bury my face in my hands. I walk to my door and walk to Sonya’s desk. She looks at me with a smile, “Mr. Wayne! What can I do for you?”

“Sonya, I’ll be unavailable for the rest of the day. See that the fundraiser details get figured out. I want to no hiccups, understood?” She nods, typing furiously. I continue, “Perfect. Thank you.”

I walk to the elevator and press floor one. I lay against wall in sheer exhaustion. Between my guilt from Jason and my repressed feelings about Isley, I needed to punch something.

///

I took another sip of my coffee and continued typing on my computer. I was trying to find information about Cork County. “With the way you’re hunch over your computer, we’ll have to get massages before heading to Gotham,” Phoebe said pointedly.

I roll my eyes, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Fair enough. Enough investigating today boss lady. If we want to make it to Gotham in a decent hour and avoid traffic, we need to go,” Phoebe insists as she shuts my computer.

“I made us a reservation at some fancy hotel. It offered nails too, what a deal. And, ooh, our dresses were delivered!”

“I thought we were going dress shopping today?” I say scrunching my nose at the implication of Phoebe picking out a dress for me.

“Oh no you don’t. We were yesterday at 4, but someone,” she squints at me, “was a bit forgetful.”

I inhale, “Okay, that’s my bad. I’m sorry, this case just keeps making new turns every second. I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Well, tonight, no missing children to worry about.”

I nod and smile at her. If only it was that easy.

///

“Master Bruce, people will be arriving in less than 30 minutes, what on Earth are you doing?” I heard Alfred call for me while I was in the Batcave.

I kicked the bag again. Focus. I kick again.

“Master Bruce?” I hear Alfred again. I shake my head. Focus, Bruce. I kick the bag again. The chain breaks and bag flies across the room.

“That is the 8th bag you’ve broken this week, Master Bruce.”

I exhale deeply. “It’s unimportant.”

“Perhaps to the ghosts of this cave, but not you. Never mind all that. You must shower and get dressed immediately,” Alfred says pushing me quickly towards the stairs.

“Can I at least take the elevator if speed is what we’re going for?” I grumble.

“That privilege was lost once you made me trundle down those godforsaken steps and come get you!” I trudge up the stairs his insistent demands.

When we arrive at the top, “Mr. Maurice, sorry to keep you waiting, Master Bruce is insolent when it comes to other’s time and efforts,”

I shoot Alfred a dirty look at his insults. He simply flicks his hand and I’m being taken by the tailor. Who starts showing me different fabrics and colors for tonight’s event. “What do you feel tonight Mr. Wayne? Navy or Black? I have grey also, but it has not been a fan favorite for the year.” Maurice explains quickly.

I look at the colors. The black always speaks to me, but tonight was different. Because Isley will be there. I ignore my thoughts, “Let’s take a walk on the wild side, shall we?”

“My thoughts exactly, Mr. Wayne!”

I go to hop into the shower and prepare myself for tonight.

///

I can hear the people downstairs. Drinks are flowing and soon enough the cash will be too. I hear my door open. “Only man I’ve ever known to be fashionably late at his own home.” It’s Dick. “Also, I don’t know what the fuck those little sausage balls are made with, but they are delicious. Woah-”

I turn and look at him, his mouth is wide open with the same bits sausage hanging in his mouth, “What? Also, please close your mouth.”

“This suit...who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Dick jokes.

I just grunt and turn back around fixing my tie. I hear Dick’s laughter stop, “Okay, I’m sorry, here let me help with your tie. It’s more crooked than Cobblepot’s teeth.”

He fixes my tie and I can’t help but think about Jason. Dick searches my face, “You been thinking about him?”

I turn back to look in the mirror to inspect the knot he made. It answers his question. I know he wants to say something, he just doesn’t know what. No one ever does. “Master Bruce, Mr. Grayson.” Alfred’s voice turns us both around. “Almost all the guest are here. It is time to make an appearance.”

“Well, thank god I didn’t throw the party. I’m gonna find some pretty ladies and some more of the sausage balls.” Dick chippers happily and leaves this room.

Alfred turns to do the same, but not before saying, “Mr. Todd is a great man. Just because you’re choosing to move on, doesn’t mean you’re forgetting him.”

“Don’t you mean was?” I ask.

“No. I meant is. What’s that saying you always tell the board members when you’re not present? Oh, yes, physicality is not the only way to be present.” With that Alfred mules out of the room.

I follow after him. I make it down the stairs, “Man of the hour. Mr. Bruce Wayne.” I hear some rich old guy yell at me. He grabs my hand and shakes it furiously.

I do this for about an hour before I clink my glass and everyone quiets down. “I want to thank you all for being here,” I start, “Tonight was a bit last minute, but I am so glad to have the ability to host such things that bring us together. Tonight is about us expanding Arkham Asylum to host those affected by metahuman trafficking. Donations, as always, are tax deductable and can be written to the Wayne Corporation. Again, we are going to make a difference.” I raise my glass and every one claps. “But please, keep enjoying the booze, gives me an excuse to buy more!” I add with laughter.

I make my way through the crowd towards one of the balconies. There’s just a woman out there. “What a speech,” she says as she comes out the shadows.

It’s Isley, but she looked...beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. Her hair is straight rather than its usually curls. She has on a silk baby blue dress that ends at her mid thigh. Her dark eyes are blown wide with the chill air and small goosebumps litter her dark brown skin. “Isley,” I breathe out, “Thought you bailed on me.”

She turns her head like a curious cat, “Me? A flake? Never.” she says with fake ingenuity. “Although, I was very late. Phoebe loves to take her time with me.”

My eyes scan her face, “Well, she did an amazing job.” I compliment.

A smile grows on her face, “Why thank you, Mr. Wayne. You clean up nicely yourself. A navy blue suit? How daring.”

“Dick already made fun of me for it, I thought it was time to step out a bit.”

She steps close enough to grab one of the lapels. “Dick? Also, it reminds me of prom. Senior year,” she whispers.

I grab her wrists, we’re extremely close now. “Well, look who I found hiding in the shado- oh?”

It’s Dick, again. I breathe out slowly, “Dick, meet an old friend. Isley Thomas.”

#babyblackbird writes #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x poc #batman x you #batman #batman x ofc

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keeroo92 · 4 years

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Be My Nightmare Ch9

Freedom

Warnings for murder, gore and mutilation.

Word count - 3,487

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

________

---V---

Pine needles and loamy earth muffled his hurried steps. Quiet huffs slipped through his parted lips and metal warmed under his fingers as he kept the cuffs still. Somewhere not far behind him, shouts of alarm rang through the trees as staff members hunted him down like cattle.

But he was no one’s prey.

He was the predator.

They used an insipid grid pattern to search; it was child’s play to navigate around their movements. Honestly, how did they expect to find anything when they traipsed about so noisily? Even an imbecile would hear them coming.

It took him less than five minutes to get into position, crouched on a low hanging branch directly in line with the grid. Kelly’s death was a mere appetizer; it was time for the main course. He licked his lips and shifted his weight, eyeing his target as it approached without a clue.

“Section seventeen, clear,” the orderly said, holding a small walkie-talkie to his lips. Not standard issue; it was wise to wait.

Three… two… one… now!

The artist dropped onto the unsuspecting fool, the chain of his handcuffs serving as an excellent tool to crush the man’s trachea. He braced his legs on the man’s spine, using all his body weight to force the chain ever deeper, just to be sure. He couldn’t afford any mistakes.

Wet gurgles accompanied his victim’s pathetic clawing, vessels in his eyes popping as his face twisted into a lovely new arrangement of despair. V hummed happily and brought his lips to the dying man’s ear, shivering in delight as he chose the last sentence the man would ever hear.

“You should’ve stayed home today.”

A final gasp and the man went limp, falling forward into the dirt and leaves. A sadly bloodless death, but to be so up close, to feel the final heartbeat… there was no feeling like it.

The artist had total control in those moments.

How much things had changed in the time since school. The man he’d been never would have made it this far. He knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Ignorant and unaware, easily caught off guard and unable to respond quickly in a crisis. That man would’ve gotten himself killed months ago.

This ain’t the time, Van Gogh. Keep moving.

Griffon was right, he couldn’t tarry. No more distractions, not until he was out of their reach. He made quick work of the man’s pockets, taking the walkie talkie and a protein bar. No key, unfortunately, though that would’ve been far too easy.

The artist narrowed his eyes and chose a direction, darting in a mostly straight line through the trunks and foliage. If he went in the same direction long enough, he was bound to find civilization. Instead, he found the stone wall he glimpsed mere minutes before. Heavy blocks of unknown origin stacked in uneven patterns, pleasing to the eye but not to the touch. His hands slid right off.

“Damnit…”

A subtle roar and soft clatter of crystal echoed from his left. The brush of warm fur under his hands, prowling pawsteps as Shadow came to his aid. Her glowing eyes met his and her tail flicked across his face, her massive claws gouging a path for his hands in the accursed wall.

“Perfect timing,” he murmured, fingers already caressing the fresh crevasse left behind. Much better, plenty of friction now.

A few moments of clumsy scrabbling later and he crouched atop the stones. This was it. Freedom. No more restraints, no more Kevin. No more medication or group therapy sessions where he had to pretend to care about his fellows.

No more Y/N.

The thought gave him unexpected pause. While he planned to return and have his vengeance, there was no guarantee you would still be there when he did so. He may never see you again if he left. It ached, to imagine a life spent alone.

It doesn’t matter – you need to move!

Yet his legs refused to move. What a tragedy, for you to remain blind to all he had to offer. Perhaps he should’ve waited before spurring Ken into action, taken more time to show you his world. You showed so much promise…

A pulse of mind-numbing pain rippled across his flesh. His body was fire, his nerves magma and his blood, acid. The artist doubled over and clutched at his belly but it was too much. Saliva flooded his mouth as his stomach spasmed and reacquainted him with his most recent meal. If it weren’t for the vomit, he surely would’ve screamed and gotten himself caught.

“Move. Now.”

The agony faded and he wiped his mouth, searching for the source of the insidious voice. Jade eyes widened as he spotted gnarled feet encased in what might be armor, but the texture wasn’t quite right. It couldn’t be flesh, not in that blueish-black tone.

Ropes of muscle and sinew extended upward, outlandish hooks and spikes here and there. And, was that an eye?

The legs moved, stepping closer. Indeed, it was an eye. One of many blinking from the creature’s form in a hideous shade of orange. He’d never seen such a grotesque being, not even in his nightmares.

“Ur… Urizen?” he stuttered.

A clawed hand reached out to him, lifting his chin to meet the creature’s gaze. It’s eyes glowed with malevolent light and the artist shivered, suddenly glad the being was connected to him. As long as Urizen needed him, he was safe from his true cruelty.

“Indeed. Do as I command and I can end your suffering.”

An echo of his earlier agony twinged his mind, just enough to drive the point home. A feather’s caress in comparison yet still enough to force his eyes closed and drag a hiss from his throat.

When he opened his lids, Urizen was gone. He took one last look at the facility and turned away. Yes, it was regrettable that he had to leave you behind, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. His conflicted emotions weren’t the focus right now, only his continued movement.

Descending the other side proved far easier than climbing. More trees greeted him, soft grass and pine needles muffling his steps as he jogged away. All he had to do now was put some distance between himself and the facility, and then he’d need to figure out a hiding place. Perhaps a change in attire, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave his hands cuffed forever.

Hours passed in silence as he trekked ever onward. Even his friends remained silent. The stillness soothed him, he rarely had the pleasure of plotting in solitude.

At long last, with the tree’s shadows reaching for him as the sun set, he found it. A road, thankfully empty. If he were spotted now, with hands still cuffed and wearing the standard issue white linens of the facility, he’d end up right back in that accursed room.

Following the asphalt brought him to the edges of a city before the stars were fully visible. Perfect timing, he wouldn’t need to worry as much about passerby if everyone was safely indoors.

Safely…

The artist smirked. Now that he roamed the streets, none were truly safe. They’d learn to fear the night and dread the shadows. But first things first.

He ducked into a trash-strewn alley and slammed the walkie-talkie against the bricks, cracking the casing open to expose the circuitry and wiring. Several options confronted his gaze, but he settled for a pair of copper wires and got to work.

Within moments, he regained the ability to stretch his arms in any direction he liked, and he didn’t waste a second in doing so. One should never neglect the simple pleasures.

“C’mere, baby. This’ll work just fine,” said a man’s voice.

V crouched behind a dumpster instantly. A feminine giggle followed the voice, loud and careless footsteps growing closer. Poor lost souls, how unfortunate for them that they chose this alley on this night, when a predator lurked.

More giggles, the soft thud of a body pressed on stone. Rustling cloth and a quiet whimper of need.

Not yet… a moment more.

The artist shifted his weight and rolled his eyes. If they could just get on with it… How inconsiderate of them to take so long to lose themselves in pleasure.

“Ah! James, please!”

The woman sounded as impatient as he felt. What did they look like? His size, or would he need to find others? Better to be sure. Keeping to the shadows, he peeked around the metal that concealed him.

Perfect!

The man faced away, pinning the girl against the bricks and out of view. He looked to be slightly shorter than he, but with a similar build. Cropped hair did nothing to hide his gauged ears and tattooed neck, currently being assaulted by the young woman’s mouth. Her small hands pawed at the man’s leather jacket, pausing only to stroke the bulge between his legs. Muttered curses accompanied her efforts and even in the darkness, his reactive thrusts were obvious.

The two lacked any class whatsoever.

V watched in silence as the two exposed one another’s skin to the pale moonlight. He caught glimpses of the girl’s body, her milky skin and the delightful roundness of her chest. The man at least had good taste, physically speaking. Heat coiled in his gut, his cock a growing stiffness he refused to indulge until the work was done.

The moment he heard them gasp in unison, he made his move. With silent steps he crept behind the man and looped the chain of his cuffs around his neck. He would have preferred a knife, but desperate times…

“What the f-“

A sharp tug and all that remained was a corpse. The girl screamed, yet she was too foolish or terrified to run as her companion fell to the filthy ground. Without his body in the way, her full figure gleamed as if on display just for him. Truly, the universe was kind to provide him all he desired.

“Oh fuck! Oh, shit fuck what the fuck?!” she cried, utterly incoherent. No matter.

He slapped her, his eyes threatening endless horrors if she didn’t silence herself. With his other hand, he brought her shaking fingers to press against his cock, forcing her to stroke him and ease the ache even a fraction. Slowly, her curses and shouts turned to sobs and he smirked. Good enough.

Now, how best to use her? It’d been so long since he had such creative freedom. Perhaps… oh, how perfect.

A small clip held something inside the man’s pocket. The artist hummed and tugged it loose, chuckling as he flicked open the small blade. Could this night get any better? He doubted it.

“On your knees, girl. Right over there,” he ordered, a wicked grin twisting his lips as she obeyed.

He had to admit, she was quite beautiful, yet he would make her even more so. Without his tools, this would be far from his best work, but he’d make do. Images and ideas flowed though his mind and his heart raced in anticipation.

The girl squeaked as he joined her, towering over her huddled body. Silver glinted in his teeth where he held the knife, freeing his hands to explore her quivering body. He traced every curve and valley, planning his desecration. Stomach, thighs, ass, hips, all his to decorate however he pleased.

His fingers crept higher, tracing the roundness of her chest. A soft whimper slipped through her lips and he pinched, hard enough to bruise. Distractions would not be tolerated. She was his canvas; she should be thanking him for all she would become.

“P- please! Let me go!”

Forgetting the blade between his teeth, the artist clicked his tongue and winced as copper flooded his mouth. He took the blade in hand and dipped his other hand into his mouth. Waste not, want not.

“No,” he murmured, and then he traced the first mark on her pristine flesh using his own blood.

Her sobs intensified, broken by begging every few moments. The artist tried to focus through her mewling but the girl simply refused to be silent. He’d have to do something. An unplanned adjustment, but he could make it work.

He pried her stubborn jaws open and carved. He didn’t need to be careful, it’s not like she was going to need any of her mouth to work anyway. Blood flooded the cavity, her throat spasming as he sawed away at her tongue and anything that got in his way. Small, feminine hands scrabbled against his arm but she was far too weak, and he too strong.

Something gave way under his blade, the resistance of seconds ag gone. The girl tried to scream, but only wet gurgling resulted form her efforts. Tears and blood alike smeared her cheeks. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head before releasing her jaw, allowing her to cough up the gristle left behind.

He didn’t give her long.

---Reader---

The inexorable passage of time offered little comfort after your suspension. It still seemed like every minute lasted an hour, and every hour a week. Maddening.

How has it only been two days?

You sighed and took another sip of coffee, settling into your now familiar spot on your couch. Nothing good was ever on cable, but you had nothing better to do. Maybe if you watched enough crappy soap operas they might start appealing to you?

Kotomi only made it worse, with her endless emails about which patient needed what, how to get them to talk to her, blah blah blah. You only gave her the answers because to refuse only tarnished your already bruised reputation. You couldn’t afford to add any more black marks to your record. Perfection was the only route forward.

At first, she tried to be friendly. She mentioned the latest gossip and asked about what you were up to with all the free time. How did she expect you to just ignore what happened? You weren’t going to pretend she hadn’t betrayed you or left you to take the fall for her failure. And she never apologized. Infuriating.

So much for friendship. Oh well, what use was it anyway? It wasn’t like she’d ever added anything meaningful to your life. Idle chatter, a distraction and the appearance of normalcy. Things only necessary when in a group setting. The outcast always got singled out, you knew from experience.

But here you were, cast out yet again.

And why does it hurt so much?

You pushed the thought away and changed the channel, might as well see what was happening in the real world. Normally the news bored you to tears, but who knew? Maybe today it would provide some entertainment.

“Local police still have no suspects for the recent killings downtown. So far, four bodies have been found, two of which missing the heart. It is recommended that you stay in your home after dark until the police have made an arrest, though no official lockdown has been initiated at this time. We’ll continue to bring updates as the story develops.”

So, V was still in the area. The heart thing was new, his last killing involved a liver and intestines, a kidney if you remembered right. Why the change? What did it mean?

If only I had my notes from our sessions! I know I could figure this out!

A far-too-cheerful ding broke your morose thoughts as a new email came in. No doubt more questions from Kotomi. You sighed and stood from your perch, stretching your arms as you padded to your laptop.

Sure enough...

Hello, Dr. Waras.

I have a question regarding Jacob Miller’s treatment. Have you had any success with hypnotherapy or suggestion? I thought it may help but if it’s already been tried, there’s not much point. Thanks in advance!

Dr. Kotomi Ishida

Oh, for the love of god... didn’t she read the man’s chart? Your notes were meticulous, every treatment method you tried was thoroughly documented. What a waste of your time.

Still.

You typed a succinct reply stating that yes, you tried that and no, it was not successful in the least. If anything, it made his symptoms worse. A quick proofread later and off it went, its destination the one place you wanted to be but weren’t allowed.

Well, surely there were other places you wouldn’t be allowed. Monuments. A private home. Crime scenes.

Another ding, what now? Couldn’t she manage for ten minutes on her own, honestly...

But the sender was unknown, the subject line blank. Spam, probably. The filter wasn’t perfect. Bracing for an ad for men’s growth pills, you clicked on the message.

Unknown has invited you to chat! Accept/Decline

You pursed your lips and glared at the screen. This had to be a joke, and you had absolutely no patience for it. You had enough to deal with without this nonsense.

Do I? What else have I got to pass the damned time?

With a resigned sigh, you clicked accept and waited.

You rolled your eyes. Whoever it was, they were a cocky one. A shiver of foreboding trailed down your spine as you stared at the screen. You needed to be careful; without knowing who was on the other side, how would you know what information you could trust them with?

Something about the conversation felt familiar, but you couldn’t place why. You couldn’t deny the thrill at a new puzzle, a new problem to solve, but to be careless spelled disaster. It might be someone from work, trying to see if you’d reveal private info to a friendly stranger. Hell, it could be Malphas.

It didn’t seem like the Malphas you knew, but it seemed you didn’t know him as well as you thought.

Your mind sizzled, whirring faster than it had in days as all the pieces slid into place. Of course. How hadn’t you seen it sooner? Only one person you knew of had the taste for this kind of mind game. With trembling hands you responded, lips pursed and shoulders tense.

Shit. Shit, shit, motherfucking shit. Of all the idiotic, foolish, irrational things he could’ve done, he chose this? To contact you?

Why?

He’s too smart not to know how risky it is to talk to me. What in the world would make that risk seem worth it to him?

Possibilities flooded your mind, all the standard things that motivate people. Stupid, he wasn’t like most people, you couldn’t pretend his motivations were the same as anyone else’s.

Okay, calm down. Think. Work the problem.

In your sessions, he came to life whenever you discussed art and philosophy. He traded knowledge of his personal life to gain access to the simplest of art supplies. He was curious, intelligent and wily. Not prone to impulsive decisions or taking unnecessary risks. A planner. Not to mention he had a healthy libido, if inappropriate.

And an impressive...

Stop that.

You rolled your shoulders and hummed, still unsure about his reasoning. Perhaps you could just ask? Perhaps his freedom would make him more open to an honest conversation.

You almost laughed. Of course being direct got you nowhere. Always with the mind games... fine, if he wanted to play, he would lose.

You paused, unsure about his meaning. It felt like you were having two different conversations, about completely unrelated topics. What cage? You weren’t living in a cage. He had to mean something else, something subtle and hidden.

The back of your chair creaked as you leaned back, letting out a deep breath as the thrill of using your mind wore off. How you missed it, solving problems and finding solutions others didn’t dare to imagine. How could Malphas do this to you? He knew your background.

And he did it anyway. Maybe he doesn’t care.

A growl of frustration rumbled through your chest and you slammed the laptop closed. Enough wallowing, this was getting you nowhere. If talking to V was the best thing to happen to you since getting suspended, something was clearly wrong. Time to take action.

---V---

Full lips twisted into a smirk as he signed off. What a delight, how fortunate he’d come across this place. Such an interesting home, full of surprises. The cat, for example. Currently it sat on his lap, purring madly as he stroked its fur. He didn’t know its name, but it probably didn’t either.

Now, on to the next task.

“I still say blonde, Van Gogh,” Griffon cawed. He was perched atop the television, his usual spot since taking up residence here.

“And I say brown, it’s the most common and least likely to be noticed,” Vergil chimed in from the massive leather couch.

A muscle in V’s jaw twitched in annoyance. He needed to go out, there was no food left and the locals needed a reminder of his truth. But first, he needed to do something to disguise himself. For a day and a half, he and his friends argued over the best choice, and he was growing impatient.

Shadow flicked her tail at the white walls, her way of casting her vote. She lounged on a plush rug, bathing in the what little sunlight leaked through the venetian blinds.

At least Urizen wasn’t adding to the chaos. He’d never get a word in edgewise.

“Blonde!”

“Brown!”

Flick, growl.

Over and over again. Perhaps he ought to just shave his head and be done with it?

“Blonde! Everybody loves a blonde!”

“Brown, it’s inconspicuous and that’s the main objective!”

Flick, growl, flick.

“Enough!” V shouted, silencing all three at once. “I’ve had it! All you do is argue, and you’ve all missed the obvious!”

Three sets of quizzical eyes stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Instead of speaking, V headed to the bathroom, his friends in tow. He wasn’t sure how they all managed to fit in the tiny room, but somehow it worked out.

Elegant fingers rifled through several drawers before finding what he searched for. He knew there had to be some, the woman had ridiculous hair. No way she didn’t have some way of managing it.

“Wait, are you really gonna cut it?” Griffon prodded.

He didn’t want to. Having his hair like this was Nero’s idea, and he had far too little left of his friend. It took a year to grow it out and another year for him to get used to having a curtain of black blocking half his vision, but he honestly liked it now.

But every picture on the news of him featured him with long hair, draped over his face. This was the simplest way to change his appearance, there could be no argument. And hair grows back, eventually.

He raised the scissors high and prepared to make the first snip.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

#fanfic #my writing #Be My Nightmare #dmc v #vitale #v x reader #reader insert #devil may cry #tw: gore

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dreamersscape · 5 years

Text

The Raven Cycle: A Liveblog (Part 4)

(Let’s just pretend the gap since my last installment was a much shorter and more reasonable period of time than it has actually been, shall we? I tried to make up for it with the length of this edition. Suuuuuper long post under the cut.)

Me, reading TDT’s opening quotations: Okay, yes, good. Taking things out of your dreams into the waking world. Got it.

Me, reading the last quote: ‘I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven’t got the guts to bite people themselves.’?

YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE, AUSTIN STRINDBERG. GET THEE HENCE.

‘He always returned with gifts, treasure, and unimaginable amounts of money, but to Ronan, the most wondrous thing was Niall himself. Every parting felt like it would be the last, and so every return was like a miracle.’ RONANNNNNNN. (Is it weird that it feels like Ronan is supposed to be my favorite bc he seems closest to my type and goodness knows I can relate to the grieving-a-father feels, but that’s not really the case so far? I love him dearly, but it feels like I should love him more. Weird? Not weird? I dunno.)

*carefully takes notes about the alleged details of Ronan’s birth because I know now every minor detail is actually Very Important*

‘Theoretically, Blue Sargent was probably going to kill one of these boys.’ Oh, good, it’s only a theoretical death. Glad we got that sorted out. Guess I can stop worrying about it now, right? :P

'Adam’s hand glided over her bare elbow. The touch was a whisper in a language she didn’t speak very well.’ I really like this line! Also, somewhat sadly, relateable.

'It had five tiny white buttons: four arranged in a cross shape, and one off by itself. To Blue, that fifth button was like Adam. Still working toward the same purpose as the other four. But no longer quite as close as the others.’ Oh, so we’re going to make my heart hurt over Adam Parrish in the first ten pages of the book. Fine.

'In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them. Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness. Her raven boys.’ Aw, those lines sound familiar. ;) And we’re all right there with ya, Blue.

'The dorms were emptier than they would’ve been during school term, but they were not empty.’ Whoops unrelated-to-TRC-but-nevertheless-on-brand feels ahoy.

So it’s been long enough since I read TRB that I can’t recall if I had any particular feelings about Declan then, but definitely feeling pretty sympathetic towards him now, what with his father’s seeming dismissive attitude toward him and the assault from this Gray Man. Also, have I read the word Greywaren before? Not sure.

Oh. So Ronan is the Greywaren, then. Guess that answers that.

’Mom is nothing without him’? Woooow, Declan. Wow. A bit less sympathy, now. (Maybe there’s something about their mother I don’t know yet, but still…)

’Creature was a good word for him, Ronan thought.’ Oof. He’s gonna make me eat my words, isn’t he? I already said I love you dearly, Ronan!

And now he’s gonna divert himself from his unpleasant thoughts with an external distraction. Oh good. That doesn’t mirror any of my other favorite characters at all.

'Back then, it had surprised Ronan; he hadn’t realized yet that Gansey could persuade even the sun to pause and give him the time.’ [drags a hand slowly down my face] Don’t do this to me, Maggie. Haven’t you already put me through enough with Adam and Gansey?

'His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey they were so often the same thing.’ Well that–that’s a sentence.

’“Ronan, there’s no reason for that,” Gansey said sternly, as if Ronan had hurled a toy on the floor.’ Gonna start listing all the mom-friend!Gansey moments, 'cause I gotta.

'He laughed enough that Chainsaw abandoned her paper shredding to verify he wasn’t dying.’ This is cute, other than the implication that Ronan genuinely laughing is a all-too-rare occurrence.

’“So what you’re saying is you can’t explain it.” “I did explain it.” “No, you used nouns and verbs together in a pleasing but illogical format.”’ Hee!

I half expect tired-of-potential-and-only-being-useful-needing-something-more!Blue to break out singing ’I want much more than this provincial life/I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell’ and I don’t say that at all in a disparaging way, that’s just what it made me think of. It’s a very understandable desire on Blue’s part.

’“Jane!” Gansey said joyfully.’ I will never tire of this. :)

'When she returned, she leaned on the table beside Adam, who touched her wrist. She didn’t know what to do in response. Touch it back? The moment had passed. She resented her body for not giving her the correct answer.’ So! Freaking! Relateable!

'Kavinsky headed directly to the large table in the back, and the postures of the other boys all changed drastically….Gansey stood, leaning against the table, and there was something threatening rather than respectful about it.’ I live a protective!Gansey appreciation life.

The Gray Man is quite a character.

Ummmm so chapter eight just hurt my soul a whole lot? Here’s a list of the culprits:

'He’d spent just two hours at the easiest of the jobs — Boyd’s Body & Paint, LLC, replacing brake pads and changing oil and finding what was making that squeaking noise there, no, there — and now, even though he was off, he was ruined for anything else. Sticky and sore and, above all else, tired, always tired.’

'The only rub was, Blue was another troubling thing. She was like Gansey in that she wanted him to explain himself. What do you want, Adam? What do you need, Adam? Want and need were words that got eaten smaller and smaller: freedom, autonomy, a perennial bank balance, a stainless-steel condo in a dustless city, a silky black car, to make out with Blue, eight hours of sleep, a cell phone, a bed, to kiss Blue just once, a blister-less heel, bacon for breakfast, to hold Blue’s hand, one hour of sleep, toilet paper, deodorant, a soda, a minute to close his eyes. What do you want, Adam? To feel awake when my eyes are open.’ (This hurt less than the 'to go home, to go home, to go home’ passage, but ONLY JUST.)

'He’d already seen the ignored, unopened envelope emblazoned with Aglionby Academy’s raven crest. For two days he’d been stepping over it, as if it might disappear if he failed to acknowledge it.’ (Ah, hello avoidant coping skills, my old friend.)

’[Adam] ached inside.’/'He still ached.’/'his spine aching, shoulders aching, soul aching’

'They stared at each other, both hurt.’/'He tried not to let it sound like he was still hurt, but he was, and it did.’/'She tried not to let it sound like she was hurt, but she was, and it did.’

’What do you want, Adam? He didn’t even know.’ (T.T)

'His wide eyes and gaunt face peered back at him, troubled but not unusual.’

I’m so done, he thought. No more. Please, I can’t take any more.’ (SAME.)

'The difference in tuition between this year’s and next was twenty-four hundred dollars. That number again. It couldn’t be a coincidence.’ (SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE GANSEY/ADAM TENSION/CONFLICT/FIGHTING. WHEN DO WE GET TO THE GETTING BETTER PART?)

'They couldn’t hurt Gansey. Nothing could hurt him; people who said money couldn’t buy everything hadn’t seen anyone as rich as the Aglionby boys. They were untouchable, immune to life’s troubles. Only death couldn’t be swiped away by a credit card.’ (Oh Adam honey, you don’t even knooooow. :()

Adam! Some people show and feel love through acts of service! It’s not an inherently bad thing! Concern and the desire to help are not the same thing as pity!

Also, Blue’s “Then don’t be pitiful!” response was kinda strange, even for an impulsively perturbed remark? Just felt weird.

'She was looking at the box that served as his nightstand. Somehow it had moved several feet away from the bed. The side was badly dented, its former contents scattered violently across the floor. Only now did he remember the act of kicking the box, but not the decision to kick it.’ (Crap.)

'He calmed enough to remember that if he waited long enough, carefully analyzing how it felt, the emotion would lose its inertia. It was the same as physical pain. The more he tried to mentally decide what made pain hurt, the less his brain seemed able to remember the pain at all.’

'He’d never escape, not really. Too much monster blood in him. He’d left the den, but his breeding betrayed him. And he knew why he was pitiful. It wasn’t because he had to pay for his school or because he had to work for a living. It was because he was trying to be something he could never be. The sham was pitiful.’

'Some nights he lured himself to sleep by imagining how he would word the favor for Glendower. He needed to get the words exactly right. Now he rolled phrases around his mouth, desperately reaching for one that would comfort him. Ordinarily, words would tumble and lull through his mind, but this time, all he could think was Fix me.’ (On a related note, I’m dead.)

'He had a strange, disconcerting feeling that he couldn’t trust his senses. Like he was tasting an image or smelling a feeling or touching a sound. It was the same as just a few minutes before, the idea that he’d glimpsed a slightly wrong reflection of himself. Adam’s previous worries vanished, replaced with a more immediate concern for this ragged body he was carting around in. He’d been hit so many times. He’d already lost his hearing in his left ear. Maybe something else had been destroyed on one of those tense, wretched nights.’ (*Spontaneously revives to continue worrying myself to death over Adam Parrish* WHY CAN’T I TAKE CARE OF HIM?)

'Ronan, Noah, and Gansey were at the Dollar City in Henrietta, loitering. Theoretically, they were there for batteries. Practically, they were there because both Blue and Adam had work, Ronan’s shapeless anger always got worse at night, and Dollar City was one of the few stores in Henrietta that allowed pets.’ These stupid codependent teens.

“Hello? Oh, hey,” Gansey said to the phone, touching a notebook with a handgun printed on the cover. The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam’ [tries to feel the joy I deserve at this past my intense anxiety about the probable clashing over the tuition thing]

'Ronan rested his forehead on the topmost shelf. The metal edge snarled against his skull, but he didn’t move. At night, the longing for home was ceaseless and omniscient, an airborne contaminant. He saw it in Dollar City’s cheap oven mitts — that was his mother at dinnertime. He heard it in the slam of the cash register drawer — that was his father coming home at midnight. He smelled it in the sudden whiff of air freshener — that was the family trips to New York. Home was so close at night. He could be there in twenty minutes. He wanted to smash everything off these shelves.’ He and Adam both want to go hoooome and I wish I could provide that for them and turns out I am actually Gansey.

'“Glitter,” whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.’ Truly Noah is their light in the darkness. I LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHH.

'Farther down the aisle, Gansey suggested to the phone, “You could come stay at Monmouth. For the night.”’ Like I said. Also, I really, really wish I could hear both sides of this phone conversation.

'Sometimes Ronan thought Adam was so used to the right way being painful that he doubted any path that didn’t come with agony.’ I mean, fair. And heartbreaking.

'Gansey’s back was turned to them. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ramirez? I didn’t talk to anyone at the church. Yes, twenty-four hundred dollars. I know that part. I —”’ Oh no. It’s happening.

'But one of the marvelous things about being Ronan Lynch was that no one ever expected him to do anything nice for anyone.’ I would hug you Ronan, except there is now more Adam 'n’ Gansey friction and I’m really bad at handling it!

'Abruptly, Ronan’s entire body went cold. Not a little chilly, but utterly cold. The sort of cold that dries the mouth and slows the blood. His toes went numb, and then his fingers….Then Noah reappeared in a violent sputter, like the power crackling back on. His fingers clutched Ronan’s arm. Cold seeped from the point of contact as Noah dragged heat to become visible.’ Oh, so Noah can do that with Ronan too? Because of his greywaren-ness?

'“I lost …” Noah struggled for words. “There wasn’t air. It went away. The — the line!” “The ley line?” Gansey asked. Noah nodded once, a sloppy thing that was sort of a shrug at the same time. “There was nothing … left for me.”’ Not allowed. Just saying.

'He didn’t say, Or maybe something terrible happened to Adam that day he sacrificed himself in Cabeswater. Maybe he’s messed up all of Henrietta by waking up the ley line. Because they couldn’t talk about that. Just like they couldn’t talk about Adam stealing the Camaro that night. Or about him basically doing everything Gansey had asked him not to. If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.’ Yes, we know. :)

'From Ronan’s room, he heard Noah’s laugh. He and Ronan were throwing various objects from the second-story window to the parking lot below. There was a terrific crash.’ Having witnessed my younger brother doing basically the same thing once, I can vouch for the authenticity of this teenage-boy activity.

'Once, he had dreamt that he found Glendower. It wasn’t the actual finding, but the day after. He wouldn’t forget the sensation of the dream. It hadn’t been joy, but instead, the absence of pain. He couldn’t forget that lightness. The freedom.’ Yeah, don’t we all dream about the absence of pain. *buries face in hands* OH GANSEY BOY.

’“Do you want me to talk to her?” This was something he definitely, 100 percent felt certain in his guts that he had no interest in doing. “I’m really bad at talking, Gansey,” Adam said earnestly. “And you’re really good at it. Maybe — maybe if it just comes up natural?” Gansey’s shoulders collapsed; his breath fogged the glass and vanished. “Of course.” “Thanks.” Adam paused. “I just want something to be simple.” So do I, Adam. So do I.’ This right here? This A Whoooole Lot. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Adam if he asked, Gansey?

'Noah slouched in. In a wounded tone, he said, “He threw me out the window!” Ronan’s voice sang out from behind his closed door: “You’re already dead!”’ OH. MY. GOODNESS.

’"You should come over.” “Not tonight,” replied Adam. I’m losing him, Gansey thought. I’m losing him to Cabeswater. He had thought that by staying away from the forest, he’d keep the old Adam — put off the consequences of whatever had happened that night when everything started to go awry. But maybe it just didn’t matter. Cabeswater would take him regardless.’ I dream of the absence of pain!!!

'His skin shivered and crawled, and he realized it was crawling with hornets, the ones that had killed Gansey all those years ago. There weren’t many this time, only a few hundred. Sometimes he dreamt cars full of them, houses full of them, worlds full of them. Sometimes these hornets killed Ronan, too, in his dreams.’ Oh, Ronan.

’Arbores loqui latine. The trees speak Latin. “You’ve done this before,” she said. Time was a circle, a rut, a worn tape Ronan never tired of playing.’ Huh. Has Ronan been dreaming of Cabeswater for years and years?

'Curled on the mattress, [Adam] covered his face with his summer-hot arm. Sometimes, if he blocked his mouth and nose, just this side of suffocation, sleep would overthrow him.’ THAT DOESN’T SOUND HEALTHY, MY BOY. :(

'He was awake enough to think of the invitation from Gansey. There might be an internship in there. Adam knew it was a favor. Did that make it wrong? He’d said no for so long that he didn’t know when to say yes….He hated the careful way Gansey had asked him about it. Tiptoeing, just like Adam had learned to tiptoe around his father. He needed a reset button. Just push the reset button on Adam Parrish and start him again.’ I am sad. (But maaaaybe he’s starting to reconsider the idea that he can never accept hep of any kind?)

'After he had exhausted this line of thought, Ronan gave in to the brief privilege of hating himself, as he always did in church. There was something satisfying about acknowledging this hatred, something relieving about this little present he allowed himself each Sunday.’ Oh, Ronan.

'“Hey, pal,” Matthew whispered. He was the only person who could get away with calling Ronan pal.’ Awww. :)

'Matthew Lynch was a bear of a boy, square and solid and earnest. His head was covered with soft, golden curls completely unlike any of his other family members. And in his case, the perfect Lynch teeth were framed by an easy, dimpled smile. He had two brands of smile: the one that was preceded by a shy dip of his chin, a dimple, and then BAM, smile. And the one that teased for a moment before BAM, an infectious laugh. Females of all ages called him adorable. Males of all ages called him buddy. Matthew failed at many more things than either of his older brothers, but unlike Declan or Ronan, he always tried his hardest.’ Whoops, I’m attached.

'Ronan had dreamt one thousand nightmares about something happening to him.’ *rubs heart*

'A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work.’ Once again: Awww. :)

'Blue very much liked having the boys over to her house. Their presence at the house was agreeable for several different reasons….And the third reason was that it suggested permanence. Blue had acquaintances at school, people she liked. But they weren’t forever. While she was friendly with a lot of them, there was no one that she wanted to commit to for a lifetime. And she knew this was her fault. She’d never been any good at having casual friends. For Blue, there was family — which had never been about blood relation at 300 Fox Way — and then there was everyone else. When the boys came to her house, they stopped being everyone else.’ THEY’RE FAMILY NOW. <3

'Crossly, Blue realized that Gansey had now called her Jane so often that it felt strange to hear him say her real name.’ Embrace it, Blue. Embraaace it. :D

'He hid the insatiable wanting well, but now that she’d seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. But he wouldn’t be able to explain it to Maura. And he would never really have to explain it to Blue. It was his something more.’ Awww. :)

(Sorry this liveblog is devolving mostly into either EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE or But this is cute! and if that is starting to become boring…)

’"What did they die of?” “Mom always said ‘meddling.’ Gansey completely forgot they were being secretive and let out a tremendous laugh. It was a powerful thing, that laugh. He only did it once, but his eyes remained shaped like it. Something inside her did a complicated tug. Oh no! she thought. But then she calmed herself. Richard C. Gansey III has a nice mouth. Now I know he has nice eyes when he laughs, too. This still isn’t love. She also thought: Adam. Remember Adam.’ 1.) I hope this line of rationalization works out for you, Blue. ;) 2.) I am still feeling torn, though. Blue and Adam are cute together. 3.) I’d be okay with a Blue-Gansey-Adam OT3 though.

'Maura frowned. In a low voice, she said, “I think I need to have a conversation with that boy.” “Someone does,” Calla replied, heading up the stairs. Each stair groaned a protest for which she punished the next with a stomp. “Not me. I’ve outgrown train wrecks.” Blue, alarmed, said, “Is he a train wreck?”| Her mother clucked her tongue. “Calla likes drama. Train wreck! When a train takes a long time to go off the tracks, I don’t like to call it a wreck. I like to call it a derailment.” From upstairs, Blue heard Calla’s delighted cackle. “I hate both of you,” Blue said as her mother laughed and galloped up the stairs to join Calla. “You’re supposed to use your powers for good, you know!” After a moment, Adam said to her, without lifting his eyes, “I could hear y’all, you know.” Blue hoped fervently that he was only talking about Maura and Calla and not about her kitchen conversation with Gansey. “Do you think you’re a train wreck?” “That would mean I was on the tracks to start with,” he replied.’ I would just like to say that I am miffed by this passage on Adam’s behalf. Thank you.

The chapter where Mr. Gray comes to 300 Fox Way was… interesting.

'Gansey, a furious sun, glowed from the other side of the universe, his gravitational pull too distant to affect Adam.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME MAGGIE I CAN NEVER RECOVER.

So yeah, I just read the part where Adam is thinking back to how he and Gansey became friends and I think my heart just burst from emotional overload.

'Sometimes Adam wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped that day. What would be happening to him right now?’ Sometimes, Allan wondered what would’ve happened if Robin hadn’t stepped out of the trees that day. What would be happening to him right now? SORRY, I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Also, it only just occurred to me that Allan and Adam are A-names and Robin and Richard (even if that’s not what Gansey goes by) are R-names. This makes me so unreasonably happy!

'Gansey was giddy now that they’d decided to go back to Cabeswater. He hated nothing more than standing still. He ordered Ronan to put on some terrible music — Ronan was always too happy to oblige in this department — and then he abused the Camaro at every stoplight on the way out of town. “Put your back into it!” Gansey shouted breathlessly. He was talking to himself, of course, or to the gearbox. “Don’t let it smell fear on you!” Blue wailed each time the engine revved up, but not unhappily. Noah played the drums on the back of Ronan’s headrest. Adam, for his part, was not wild, but he did his best not to appear unwild, so as not to ruin it for the others.’ REEELATABLLLLE!!!

'Adam felt like he was watching it all from outside. He felt like he was about to catch another image, like a flick of the tarot cards he’d looked at earlier. Was that someone standing by the side of the road? I can’t trust my eyes.’ Leave him aloooone. :(

'Gansey leaned back, head thrown to the side, drunken and silly with happiness. “I love this car,” he said, loud to be heard over the engine. “I should buy four more of them. I’ll just open the door of one to fall into the other. One can be a living room, one can be my kitchen, I’ll sleep in one …” “And the fourth? Butler’s pantry?” Blue shouted. “Don’t be so selfish. Guest room.”’ He’s adorable.

Huh. Cabeswater’s gone!

'Adam felt that the Pig’s status perfectly encapsulated how he felt. It was not really dead, just broken. He was held inside the question of what it meant for him if Cabeswater was gone. Why can’t things just be simple?’ While this is a legitimate concern, Adam, to be fair, just a few moments ago you were worrying about was going to happen when you returned to Cabeswater for the first time after your sacrifice. Poor guy’s anxious over everything. :/

'Ronan leapt out of the car and slammed the door. The thing about Ronan Lynch, Adam had discovered, was that he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — express himself with words. So every emotion had to be spelled out in some other way. A fist, a fire, a bottle. Now Cabeswater was missing and the Pig was hobbled, and he needed to go have a silent shouting fit with his body. In the back window, Adam saw Ronan pick up a rock from the side of the road and hurl it into the creeper. “Well, that’s helpful,” Blue said tersely.’ 1.) [Fond but exasperated] Oh Ronan. 2.) I appreciate your reaction, Blue. You’re not wrong.

'“I’m calling Declan,” Gansey said. “And telling him to bring a battery.” Ronan told Gansey what he thought of this plan, very precisely, with a lot of compound words that even Adam hadn’t heard before. Gansey nodded, but he also dialed Declan’s number. Afterward, he turned to Ronan, who leaned his cheek hard enough against the top of the window to make a dent in his skin.’ Please stop dealing with difficult emotions/situations by causing yourself pain, Ronan, honey.

'Gansey rounded on Adam, clutching his own headrest and looking behind him. “Why is it gone?”’ Why is my mental picture of this so endearing?

'Declan’s Volvo glided up, as quiet as the Pig was loud. Ronan said, “Move up, move up” to Blue until she scooted the passenger seat far enough for him to clamber behind it into the backseat. He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s and laying his head in a posture of thoughtless abandon. By the time Declan arrived at the driver’s side window, Ronan looked as if he had been asleep for days.’ Oh, Ronan. What am I going to do with you?

'And as he sat there, observing the set of Declan’s shoulders and the way his eyes looked, he realized something startling. Declan was afraid. Probably it wasn’t apparent to Gansey, who was fairly oblivious, nor to Blue, who didn’t know what Declan looked like ordinarily. And Ronan’s feelings about his older brother were like blood in the water; he wouldn’t be able to see through the bilious clouds. But to Adam, who’d spent a fair amount of his life afraid — not only afraid, but trying to hide it — it was obvious.’ [Gansey voice] I am right to have Allan feels here and I will not be made to feel bad about it! (Also, in blast-from-the-past news, I’m really close to finally done with putting my anxiety-and-Allan thoughts into words and I’m excited for that.)

I love when Noah senses one of the other boys is in distress and goes to them and does his ghostly best to comfort or assist them. <3

'He thought about the day he’d been stung to death by hornets and lived anyway. Gansey ran over the memory until he no longer felt the thrill of hearing Glendower’s name whispered in his ear, and then instead gave himself over to feeling sorry for himself, that he should have so many friends and yet feel so very alone. He felt it fell to him to comfort them, but never the other way around. As it should be, he thought, abruptly angry with himself. You’ve had it the easiest. What good is all your privilege, you soft, spoiled thing, if you can’t stand on your own legs? ’ OH HONEY :( (But Noah does try!)

'“It’s not just the blood,” Ronan said. His chest moved up and down with his breath. “Something else got out, too.”’ Uh-oh.

Phew. They dispatched the nightmare creature while remaining mostly unscathed. Although they needn’t go around asking each other, "Are you murdered?” with the reply, “I think so.” anymore, please.

'“There was another one,” he said. “It got away.”’ Well, that’s not good!

'“It’s for the distasteful thing,” Gansey said. He plucked at the T-shirt with deprecating fingers. “I’m rather slovenly at the moment, I know.”’ [Fond, amused sputtering]

Oh, they’re going to the Barns!

'Gansey, a bit of the gallows in his voice, advised, “Poke its eye.”’ [Confused, taken-aback sputtering]

'“It feels the same as when you guys lived here,” Gansey said finally. “It seems like it should be different.” “Did you come here a lot?” Blue asked. He exchanged a glance with Ronan. “Often enough.” He didn’t say what Ronan was thinking, which was that Gansey was far more of a brother to Ronan than Declan had ever been.’ Brothers <3<3<3

'Ronan loved it so much. He nearly couldn’t bear it. He wanted to destroy something.’ That’s…one reaction to profound love. (Yes, I know. Profound love for something that’s been stripped away from you.)

'“Ronan Lynch,” he said. It was the voice Ronan couldn’t not listen to. It was sure in every way that Ronan was not. “Stop this right now. Go see your mother. And then we’re leaving.”’ More Mom-Friend!Gansey.

'Ronan walked directly up to her, close enough to see that she had not changed a bit since the last time he had seen her, months and months ago. Though his breath moved the fine hairs around her temples, she didn’t react to her son’s presence. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes stayed closed. Non mortem, somni fratrem. Not death, but his brother, sleep. Blue whispered, “Just like the other animals.” The truth — he’d known it all along, really, if he thought about it — burrowed into him. Blue was right. His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.’ Huh.

'My soul’s in enough peril as it is.” At this, Gansey’s face turned to a genuine frown and he looked as if he was about to say something. Then he just shook his head a little….“She didn’t try to see the future. It’s not something she became; it’s something she is. I could just as easily say that you’re evil because you can take things from your dreams!” Ronan said, “Yeah, you could.” Gansey’s frown deepened. Again he opened his mouth and closed it.’ Same, Gansey. Same.

'Ronan looked at him. That look, Blue thought. Ronan Lynch would do anything for Gansey. I probably would, too, she thought.’ If only he knew it. *rubs heart*

'Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?’ Bless his cotton socks.

'Ronan thought of what Declan had said all those months before: Mom is nothing without Dad. He’d been right.’ Okay, but does Declan know about this stuff and how it works?

'Ronan interrupted the silence. “Cabeswater. Cabeswater is a dream.” Calla stopped rotating. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right,” Ronan said. He thought of all the times he had dreamt of Cabeswater’s old trees; how familiar it had felt to walk there; how the trees had known his name. He was tangled in their roots, somehow, and they, in his veins. “If Mom is in Cabeswater, she’ll wake up.” Calla stared at him. Silence was never a wrong answer.’ Okay then.

'But those words of Declan’s needled Ronan: She’s nothing without Dad. It was like he knew. Ronan wanted badly to know how much Declan knew, but it wasn’t like he could ask him.’ No, that would be too easy.

'“Says you and Dad were both dreamers,” Matthew said, “and you’re going to make us lose everything.” Ronan sat very still. He was so still so quickly that Chainsaw froze as well, her head tilted toward the youngest Lynch brother, purloined tuna sandwich forgotten. Declan knew about their father. Declan knew about their mother. Declan knew about him.’ Curious. Very curious.

The Gray Man is going to Monmouth Manufacturing!

'He had spent forty-eight hours more or less awake and restless and then, on the third day, he had bought a side-scan sonar device, two window airconditioners, a leather sofa, and a pool table. “Now do you feel better?” Adam had asked drily. Gansey had replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Hey, man,” Ronan said, “I like the pool table.” The entire situation made Blue apoplectic.’ Tag yourself; I’m Adam with a dash of Ronan. Pool tables are cool.

’"You are still wearing those incredibly stupid boat shoes, and of all the things that you have bought, you still haven’t replaced them!” Gansey, bewildered, observed his feet. The movement of his toes was barely visible through the tops of his Top-Siders. Really, in light of recent events, these shoes were the only things that were right in the world. “I like these shoes.”’ Update: he’s still adorable.

’[Gansey] exchanged a glance with Adam, because it had to be done’ 1) What does this mean? 2) I love them SO MUCH!

'In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. } He was in a terrible mood.’ Oooooh. 👀

'So these were the people Greenmantle had warned him about. Fellow seekers of the Greywaren, whatever it might be.’ Curious and curiouser.

'Blue cheerfully spit a mouthful of brown water on his boat shoes. It pooled in the canvas over his toes. “Good God,” he said. “Now they’re really boat shoes,” she replied.’ Blue’s crusade continues.

'He knew what it was. He just didn’t know why it was. He said, “Well, that’s a wheel off the Camaro.” And it was. It looked identical to the wheels currently residing on the Pig — except this wheel was clearly several hundred years old. The discolored surface was pocked and lumpy. With all of the deterioration, the elegantly symmetrical wheel didn’t appear that out of place beside the shield boss. If you overlooked the tattered Chevrolet logo in the middle. “Do you remember losing one a little while ago?” Ronan asked. “Like, five hundred years or so?”’ Aggressively the Most Curious.

'Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, “None at all.” And it was a lie. It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill.’ Oh, you kids.

'“Hey, Noah.” He was too busy being ghostly to attend to her, however. Currently, he was engaged in one of his creepiest activities: reenacting his own death. He glanced around the tiny yard as if appraising the forest glen containing only himself and his friend Barrington Whelk. Then he let out a terrible, mangled cry as he was struck from behind by an invisible skateboard. He made no sound when he was hit again, but his body jerked convincingly. Blue tried not to look as he bucked a few more times before falling to the ground. His head jerked; his legs bicycled. Blue took a deep, uneven breath. Though she had seen him do it four or five times now, it was always unsettling. Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. The last six minutes, the ones that took place after Noah had first fallen but before he actually died, were excruciating. Blue considered herself a fairly steadfast, sensible girl, but no matter how many times she heard his torn-up breath seizing in his throat, she felt a little teary. Between the twisted roots of the front yard, Noah’s body jerked and stilled, finally dead. Again.’ I feel w o u n d e d.

'They wandered to the door like that, a pretzel of dead boy and not-psychic girl.’ Don’t even look at me!

'Gleefully, Noah said, “There’s a pool table now! I’m the worst at pool ever! It’s wonderful.”’ THIS SWEET CHILD IS GIVING ME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

'Gansey, pacing next to his ruined miniature Henrietta, set his eyes on Ronan. There was something intense and heedless in them. There were many versions of Gansey, but this one had been rare since the introduction of Adam’s taming presence. It was also Ronan’s favorite. It was the opposite of Gansey’s most public face, which was pure control enclosed in a paper-thin wrapper of academia. But this version of Gansey was Gansey the boy. This was the Gansey who bought the Camaro, the Gansey who asked Ronan to teach him to fight, the Gansey who contained every wild spark so that it wouldn’t show up in other versions. Was it the shield beneath the lake that had unleashed it? Orla’s orange bikini? The bashed-up remains of his rebuilt Henrietta and the fake IDs they’d returned to? Ronan didn’t really care. All that mattered was that something had struck the match, and Gansey was burning.’ #JusticeforMiniatureHenrietta

'“Don’t say anything stupid to him,” he told Gansey.’ Did I read that right? Did Ronan really just advise Gansey to be careful?

'The Gray Man recalled the buzz of his phone and patted his pockets. His phone was missing, however. Maura Sargent had stolen it while they were making out. In its place was the ten of swords: the Gray Man slain on the ground and Maura the sword driven through his heart.’ Interesting. Sorry that always seems to be my reaction to the Gray Man, but there it is.

#emily reads the raven cycle #status: tdt pg. 230 #jammeke #exlibrisfangirl

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

The Black Swan

Chapter 5

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 4418

Chapter: 5/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Baz and Simon get to know each other more.

Read on AO3

AN: Sorry for posting so late. I had actual irl friends over lol. Hope you guys like this. It's short but has some necessary information.

———————————————

“And if you get up on higher ground,” Simon yelled, “you’ve got an advantage over your opponent.”

Simon hopped on the small collection of rocks just in time to parry Baz’s thrust. Baz didn’t stumble back. He had gotten a lot better at holding his own and staying steady. Though a lot of his skill did still come in his precise eye. He still went for accurate moves rather than Simon’s strong but wild slashes and thrusts. It was like a roaring flame versus creeping ice. Simon’s former last name seemed very apt.

“I think you just like being taller for once,” Baz said.

Simon’s mouth dropped open in offended disbelief. “You’re not even a head taller than me!”

“That still makes you shorter.”

Simon growled and hit Baz’s stick hard. But Baz wasn’t knocked off balance. He held his ground. And Simon could see a glint in his eye. Something suddenly worked out in his big scholar brain. Before he knew it, Simon was being jabbed just under his rib, and all the wind flew right out of his lungs. He stumbled back on instinct, and soon there wasn’t anything under his feet. He landed on the ground with a painful thud, and his head hit with an even more painful crack. Simon groaned and rubbed his aching skull. When he opened his eyes, Baz was looming over him, stick pointing down, smirk playing on his mouth.

“My point,” he drawled with more than enough smugness. “Maybe the higher ground isn’t always an advantage.”

“Prick,” Simon grumbled. “At least help me up?”

Simon reached up, and Baz rolled his eyes, but took his hand anyway. He used all his considerable strength to haul Simon to his feet. Simon was still astounded by how strong Baz was. It made his heartbeat skip for a moment. Which was odd. That had never happened before.

“What’s the match count now?” Baz asked.

Simon shrugged. “Um, I think it’s twenty six for me and four for you.”

Baz’s eyes narrowed, frowning slightly. It was easy with the way his lips were shaped. Simon was pretty sure his face was made for pouting. “That can’t be right.”

“I’m the real sword fighter, remember?”

“With the coordination of a charging ox.”

Simon shrugged again. “Hate it all you want, but I’m still beating you.”

“I don’t like to lose,” Baz muttered, most probably to himself. Simon had certainly learned that. For someone who’d had limited company for probably years before Simon, he was insanely competitive. He wanted to be the best. Simon wondered if Baz competed with the other swans before he showed up.

Baz stuck his stick in the ground and stretched his arms to the sky. Simon’s eyes were drawn to the way his lithe back curved for a moment, but he quickly looked away. When Baz dropped his stick, Simon knew that meant sparring was over. He did the same, then followed Baz to the edge of the lake. Baz sat cross legged just as a swan came close. Baz ushered it closer. The bird came out of the water and laid itself in Baz’s lap without hesitation. He petted it’s feathers softly. Simon had only ever seen this sort of kindness in Baz when he was with a swan.

“You really like those birds, huh?” Simon said.

Baz gave one brief nod. “They’re very sweet, in reality. And...they’ve been good company all these years.”

Simon smiled slightly. It was good, that Baz had company. Curiosity overwhelmed him, as it tended to. He reached towards the swan cautiously, just hoping to pet it’s head. But it instantly stretched forward and honked at Simon, almost biting his finger. The sound was so strange and loud that Simon yelped in response. He fell onto his back, staring at the starry sky, instinctively clutching the hand that was almost de-fingered.

There was a strange noise. Tiny little sounds that Simon had never heard before in this lake. He looked up to see Baz hunched over, shoulders shaking, giggling. Fucking giggling. It was so strange, yet incredible. His grey eyes crinkled at the corners, thin mouth stretching so much bigger. He looked far less like the stern statue or smirking asshole Simon had come to know. He looked far more...human.

“Stop laughing at me,” Simon grumbled, pushing himself up to sitting once more.

“I wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t so funny,” he said while still sputtering slightly. “Did you never learn to not approach wild animals?”

Simon huffed. “If I knew that, I never would’ve found you.”

“Hm, true enough.” He went back to petting his bird. “She’s actually very sweet. She just has to get to know you.” He scratched under beak. The sound she made was probably the closest a swan could get to a purr. Baz smiled. “See? A complete darling.”

Simon couldn’t help but smile himself. It was far too sweet not to. Baz really was far more than what he’d first appeared to be. And Simon knew he deserved more than what he was stuck with.

“So, uh, Baz,” Simon said slowly, “I’ve been talking to my friend.”

“Good for you,” Baz replied, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh, fuck off. What I mean is that she’s a mage too, and she’s really smart. So I asked her and she told me stuff. About curses.”

Baz’s back went ramrod straight. He was so quick it almost spooked his avian companion, who flapped her wings and honked in protest. Baz calmed her down with petting again.

“I see,” he said quietly. “What did she say?”

———————————————

“Curses?” Penny said, still blinking sleep from her eyes. “You want to know what I know about curses?”

Simon nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yes please.”

Penny gave him a disbelieving, annoyed look over her spectacles. “Seriously?”

“Yes!”

“But why?!”

Simon froze up. Shit. He hadn’t thought this far into the conversation. He stared at Penny for a ridiculously long time. Penny got more and more frustrated, her face pulling more and more together, like someone was pinching it together.

“Simon-”

“I’m curious,” Simon blurted out.

Penny’s gaze got even more critical. “You’re curious?”

“Yeah. W-We never learned about curses in school. I wanna know more, about them.”

“At the crack of dawn?”

“...yes.”

Penny eyed him up and down. Simon hoped his deception wasn’t showing. It wasn’t even really a deception really. More like, omitting some of the truth. He was curious, he did want to know more about them. But it was for a specific reason. For a specific person.

She shook her head, and gestured Simon inside. “Get your stupid arse in here.”

Simon scurried inside. Penny quietly closed the door behind him. They were opposite each other. Penny sat with her legs and arms crossed in the wooden chair. Simon sat on the sofa, knee bouncing up in down.

“So, curses,” Penny said, “what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Simon blurted out. “I-I need to know everything.”

Penny groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Gods, Simon, you’re seriously going to be the death of me. Fine. Curses, here’s what I know.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Curses are one of the most ancient form of magic. They involve trapping someone somewhere or changing them to be however the caster desires. Usually, it was used as a form of punishment, vengeance, or to teach a person a lesson. Like cursing an arrogant prince to be ugly so he learns humility.”

Simon nodded along. “Okay, cool. They’re not used a lot anymore, right?”

“Yeah, no one curses anyone anymore. It’s stupid.”

“But why?”

“Because curses are dumb. They’re overly complicated to create, hard to cast, and really not that useful. Look at those fairy tales you love, Si. The curse is always broken and the caster gets punished. That’s accurate to the olden days. Curses were never effective. They were always broken eventually, because they had to be.”

Simon’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Penny sighed. “Curses are powerful magic, Si. Taking that much power for too long could cause serious damage to the magical atmosphere. There has to be a safety measure so that power can return. So no matter how much you hate a person and want them to suffer, a curse will always have a means of escape.”

“Really? Always?!” Simon’s heart was beating two fold. He was excited. There was hope. There was hope for Baz.

Penny nodded. “Yeah, always. Any case of someone trying to cast a permanent curse backfired on them horrifically. I guess it’s magic’s way of making sure we put in that safety measure.”

“Okay, okay. How do you break curses?”

“Ah, that I actually don’t know.”

Simon was very shocked. He wasn’t used to Penny not knowing something. It was rarer than a blue moon. “You don’t know?”

Penny made a funny face, twisting her lips and tapping her fingers. “Well, I know there’s some universal curse breaking stuff, like a generic reversal potion or true love’s kiss. But that’s basic shite. If the mage is clever, the way to break the curse will be specific. Like you’re forced to dance every night and someone has to match your steps for the curse to be broken. Shit like that.”

“Okay, got it.” Simon scratched his chin like some thoughtful scholar. “So, if I want to break a specific curse, how would I find out how to do that?”

Her eyes get very suspicious. “Simon, what is this really about?”

Simon didn’t want to lie to Penny. He hated the idea of lying to his best friend. But he also knew Baz was supposed to be hidden. It was already a huge risk for Simon to know about him. Another person knowing could be dangerous. Simon didn’t want to put Baz in more danger. If this all worked out, he’d apologize to Penny later and beg for her forgiveness.

“David is trying to help my magic development,” he said. “He gave me this hypothetical about someone who’s been cursed. It’s stupid so I didn’t want to talk about it before.”

Penny still didn’t look convinced. Simon gulped down the massive lump in his throat. His palms were definitely sweating. He wasn’t good at lying. Penny knew that. But Simon stayed resolute, because he wanted to protect Baz.

“Alright,” she sighed. “I get it, David likes to mess with you.”

Simon tried to hide his relief. He nodded rapidly. “Yeah, he’s trying to challenge me.”

“Sure, whatever. Anything else I can do to help you solve this?”

He twisted his mouth and drummed his fingers. He looked up at her with a kind smile. “Got any books I could borrow?”

———————————————

“And she gave me these.” Simon took the large volumes out of his old, slowly falling apart rucksack. It was only a few of the books Penny had leant him from her family’s extensive library. They had stuff even the royal library didn’t have. If anything could help, Bunce family books would.

Baz took one of the books, running a hand over it. His expression was still blank and bored. He didn’t seem as interested as he should be. This could break his curse and set him free. Shouldn’t he be excited?

“I see,” he said. “You think the answer to my curse could be in one of these books?”

“Maybe.” Baz gave a skeptical look. Simon pulled in on himself. “I-I can’t be sure. Penny said there’s no ‘curse encyclopedia’ with every possible curse in it. We just have to look.”

Baz made a complicated face. Eyebrows knitted together, pouty lips downturned, but his eyes didn’t look angry or sad. Simon could almost swear he looked worried. Almost scared. But that couldn’t be right. What did Baz have to be worried about? This was a good thing. This was a chance for him to escape.

“Very well,” he said. “We better start reading then.”

Baz opened the book, carefully balancing it on his knee, away from his now sleeping pet swan. Simon simply nodded and opened his own book. The two fell into companionable silence. Simon tried to focus on the pages, but his eyes drifted upwards every once in awhile. Every time, Baz was still reading, and his face was still blank. But Simon still liked to look at him. Maybe it was some irrational fear over Baz suddenly disappearing. Maybe it was just because he was nice to look at. Simon didn’t think about it too much, and went back to reading.

———————————————

“Good gods, Simon,” David barked. “You look like a mess.”

Good morning to you too, Davy, Simon wanted to snap. Why the king thought that was a good way to greet his adopted son was beyond him. He did look like a mess though, but he had for weeks. The fact that David was only noticing now spoke volumes about his relationship with Simon.

“Apologies, Father,” Simon said quietly.

“Why do you look so disheveled?”

Because I’ve been spending most of my nights with a swan boy and the few hours I do sleep are plagued with weird nightmares, he thought. Saying it in his mind helped him resist the urge to say it out loud. “I’ve just been studying hard, that’s all. Working on my magic control.”

David shook his head. He did that a lot with Simon. “Very well. That is an area you definitely lack in.” Simon flinched slightly at the bite in his voice. David turned and gestured for Simon to follow.” Let’s get going. There’s someone you must see. Fix your jacket before we arrive.”

Simon trailed behind David, re-buttoning his brocade jacket as they went. Who would David want him to see? A visiting diplomat? Some influential lord? Either way, Simon was dfar too tired to deal with them.

They entered the grand hall together. Simon hand to bend around David to see. But when he did, a smile immediately burst across his face.

“Aggie!” He yelled. His heart immediately felt light and happy. Agatha grinned back at him. She looked amazing. Her skin was beautifully tanned, hair sun bleached near white. Obviously the far southern coast had treated her well. But he’d missed her so much, and he was so happy to her again.

Simon ran forward, eager to wrap his arms around his friends. Agatha ran as well. But that was quickly stopped.

“Simon!” David barked. “Behave yourself.”

“Agatha,” Lady Wellbelove said gravely.

Both the prince and the lady stopped in their tracks, though slid a bit on the polished floor. Simon hung his head with arms behind his back.

“Sorry, Father,” Simon said quietly.

“Apologies, Mother,” Agatha echoed.

“Greet the young Lady Wellbelove properly, Simon.”

Simon nodded. He straightened his posture, put one arm behind his back and the other over his stomach, and bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Lady Wellbelove. I hope you enjoyed your excursion.”

Agatha in turn held her skirt in both hands and curtsied properly. “Thank you, your highness. It’s an honour to be in your presence.”

That hit Simon in the gut. It shouldn’t be an honour for Agatha to see him. It should be normal. They were inseparable at school. Roght ow it felt like there was a wall of glass between them. They could see each other, but were forced apart. Simon hated that.

They straightened up, facing each other again. David and Lady Wellbelove had moved to right behind them both. David put a firm hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“We’re very happy to have you back in court, your ladyship,” he said. “We have much to discuss, Lady Wellbelove. Simon, you should show the young Lady around the castle. There have been some improvements she should see.”

Simon nodded. “Of course, Father.” Simon offered his arm like how he was taught. Agatha took it like she was taught. “Shall we, my lady?”

“We shall,” Agatha replied.

The pair walked off towards the main exit. Simon turned his head back slightly. He saw David and Lady Wellbelove with their heads together. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever it was, it caused a rare smile on the king’s face. He turned back, and tried to think nothing of it.

Once Simon and Agatha were far out of sight and earshot, there was no more need for the glass wall. Simon wrapped his arms around Agatha in a crushing bear hug. He held her so tight her feet lifted from the ground. Agatha giggled and hugged him back just as hard.

“So glad you’re back, Aggie,” he said, muffled in her shoulder.

Agatha giggled. “Happy to be back, Si.”

He put her down, but hugged her for a bit longer. He was just so happy to see her after months away. He knew she wanted to go somewhere new after graduating school, but still, it hurt to not have her around. He missed his friend. They eventually pulled apart, enormous smiles on their faces.

“How have you been, Si?” she asked. “So much must’ve changed. Your hair has somehow gotten more wild.”

She ruffled his curls. He chuckled and playfully pushed her hand away. “Stop it, Ags. If someone points it out to David, he’ll make me cut it.”

“Oh what a tragedy. Simon Snow looking all courtly and royal.”

Simon grinned, both because of her teasing and her using his name. She liked to do that. It was her small way of telling Simon he was more than a prince to her. That his original name wasn’t totally gone just because King David said so.

“It would look terrible on me, trust me.” He offered his hand. Agatha took it. They walked down the grand hall together, swinging their arms back and forth. “So how was the south coast?”

Agatha sighed dreamily. “Oh, it was magical. The sea was sparkling blue, the sand was bright white, just gorgeous. I’d be happy staying there forever.”

Simon grinned. His heart felt warm. He was happy when his friends were happy. “Sounds incredible. I would love to see it one day. If David ever lets me out of princely duties.”

Simon meant it to be a joke, but Agatha’s face suddenly fell. Her pretty pink lips pressed together. She held Simon’s hand tighter. “Ags? What’s wrong? You alright?”

Agatha sighed heavily, then stopped out of nowhere. Simon stopped with her of course. She took his other hand. “Simon,” she said quietly, “do you know why I’m back?”

“Because...your trip is done. Right?”

“No,” she sighed, “it wasn’t. I was supposed to stay for another eight weeks. But Mother said I had to come back now. Before the winter ball.”

That was...weird. The winter ball? That was a fun court event, sure, but hardly a reason to cut a trip short. “W-Why?”

Agatha’s face got even more tense. She pulled Simon to a nearby stone bench. They sat together on the cold rock under a grand landscape picture of the countryside. It felt far too cheery for what seemed to be solemn conversation.

“Simon,” Agatha said, “my parents have been talking to King David a lot. All three have apparently agreed that the two of us, we’d be a good match. For marriage. And they want to announce the engagement at the winter ball.”

The world stopped spinning for a long moment. Simon felt his stomach drop, the whole organ plummeting down into the depths of the Earth itself. He knew he was looking at Agatha with incredibly wide eyes and mouth so large he’d catch flies. He just...he couldn’t believe it.

“What!?” he shouted. “They...they’re seriously planning for that?”

Agatha nodded solemnly. “That’s what my Mum says. They think that because we’re friends we’d make a good arranged match. I’m from a good noble house too, which helps. And, well, our children would have noble blood because of me. The court would like that.”

Because I’m still a commoner at heart, Simon thought. It was a painful but grounding truth. Dress him up in fancy coats, give him a crown, call him Prince, but deep down the court would always still think of him as Simon Snow, the little orphan with a rough accent and poor blood. Simon couldn’t blame them. He still thought of himself that way too. The only difference was that Simon never saw it as a bad thing.

Simon found himself nodding as well. “I see. But, Aggie, I just, I don’t, I’ve never thought-”

“Of me in that way?” Agatha ran a comforting hand over Simon’s. “Don’t worry, Si, me neither. I mean, I thought I did. We both did. But we both know how that worked out.”

Simon chuckled under his breath. Yeah, that embarrassment came back to haunt him occasionally. Memories of Agatha and Simon as two awkward fifteen year olds, holding hands for the first time, trying to make feelings they didn’t have magically appear, because everyone said they were cute. Other students cooed and awed. That didn’t help at all. But when the two finally kissed, just a sweet short peck, Agatha had been the first to say she didn’t feel anything. Simon had been relieved, because he didn’t feel anything either. They went back to friends, and it was the best decision they ever made. And now, they were being forced together once more. But this time there probably wouldn’t be a way out of it.

“Fuck,” Simon breathed. “This is bad.”

“Yeah agreed,” Agatha added.

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“Me neither."

Simon scratched his head. "We could ask Penny. She usually has the answers.”

“When it comes to magic? Yes. When it comes to matter of court? I don’t think so.”

They giggled. It was quiet, private. A joke between friends. That was all they were meant to be, friends. Simon knew that, as did Agatha. But here they were. Once they were done, both leaned against the wall, still holding hands.

“I don’t want this,” Agatha whispered, voice slightly strained, slightly angereed. “I don’t want to be the prize for a good deal my parents made with the king. I want to be with someone who chose me. I want them to love me. It sounds stupid, but...I want to be someone’s everything.”

Simon squeezed her hand. “It’s not stupid, Ags. I want someone to love me too. Hell, I definitely wouldn’t mind being someone’s everything.”

“Right? It would be fantastic. I’ve never felt anything close to that yet though. Have you?”

Simon shook his head. He couldn’t say he had. No one had ever made him feel like he was their everything. And no one had ever felt close to being his. The closest thing he’d had to that feeling, well, his obsession with finding Baz. The way it consumed his every waking thought and occasionally his sleeping ones to. But that was it. And that wasn’t an everything feeling, right?

“We should probably get back to them,” Agatha said. Simon could hear the sadness in her words. He squeezed her hand once more.

“Yeah. Not just yet, though.”

The corner of Agatha’s lip quirked up. “Okat not yet.”

And so the best friends sat there. Silent, worried, but happy to be next to each other again.

———————————————

Agatha and Lady Wellbelove left shortly after. Simon bid them proper farewells, a far cry from the crushing goodbye hug he gave Agatha before entering the ballroom again. Then he was brought with David into the King’s Study. David sat in his satin chair behind the large oak desk. Even though he was the one standing, Simon felt incredibly small.

“So,” David said smoothly, “I trust the young Lady Wellbelove has already informed you of the reason for her early arrival.” Simon nodded once. “Good. Then this discussion will be brief. There still needs to be some more negotiations, so the engagement announcement will be held off on until the winter ball.”

“Father, I-” Simon took a deep breath, trying to smooth out his cluttered thoughts. “Father, Aga- the Young Lady Wellbelove and I discussed this. And, to be honest...neither of us want this engagement. We’re very close friends but we aren’t in love each other like. We’d prefer it not to happen.”

David scoffed. Simon’s heart sank. “Love?” The King said the word like it was a terrible disease. “Simon, love is not important here. I’m creating a new laws, new ideals, a new dynasty. It will be your job to continue it, to make sure it goes beyond even the Pitches.” He said the old royal name with the same inflection as love. “So if marrying a friend you’re not in love with will assure that, so be it.”

“But, David-!”

“No buts, Simon. You can’t think with your heart. I haven’t, not ever, and look at all I’ve achieved.” He stretched both his arms out, indicating his beautiful study with lots of fancy cloths, shiny metals, and big books. All things Simon didn’t even like. “This will be good for us. And remember, I’m always ‘Father’, not David. I chose working for the good of the people over wife and child, so now I must have you, a ward. And we have to maintain the illusion of a bloodline. But a real, legitimate, noble one can happen with Lady Wellbelove. Your engagement will happen.” He sat back down, one leg crossed over the other. “That will be all, Simon. You’re dismissed.” He waved dismissively.

Simon’s anger spiked, and his skin burned with magic in response. He was pretty sure he would leave fingerprint shaped char marks in the wood. There was so much he wanted to say, but every word got clogged up in his throat. He felt stupid, useless, something David did to him far too much. The forgiving part of him reminded Simon that David still took him in. But he was so fucking angry right now.

“Bye, Father,” he spat, then turned on his heels and stormed out.

Simon stomped down the echoey hallways, grumbling and wiping furious tears from his eyes. He was so angry. Angry at David, at court, at his position, at every stupid thing this stupid princehood entailed. Never had he wanted to be a real commoner again more than right now. He couldn’t do that now. But tonight, while he sat in a lake with a mysterious boy, he would be. Simon could not wait until the sun set.

———————————————

AN: Another short chapter, but some plot advancement! The whole engagement thing will be explored more in the next chapter. Since I'm posting a fic for Baz's birthday next Monday, I'll be posting Chapter 6 on Tuesday instead. So a little longer wait, sorry. I'll see you guys next time :D

EDIT: I'm an idiot who cannot tell time. Baz's birthday is on Sunday not Monday so nvm I'll be posting the next chapter on Monday as usual :)

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #agatha wellbelove #the mage #fluff #angst #fantasy au #the black swan #mysnowbazfic

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its-love-u-asshole · 6 years

Text

Let My Love [Ch. 7]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: For Kuroo, finding love was all about patience. He had no problem with waiting for the right person to come along, no matter how many awkward dinners or weddings he had to endure as a single man until they did. Regardless, meeting Tsukishima was something he’d never been prepared for. The feelings were overwhelming and intoxicating, ones he was sure he’d do anything for. However, it seemed his endless waiting wasn’t over.

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Note: ....hello. LOL. okay listen, I'm sorry this update took forever, it has been done for a little over a month now, but I was holding back on posting it due to reasons, but I got over myself and decided to just do it (thanks to my friends who supported <3). I do apologize for how long it took tho, so hopefully the fact that it's an extra long chapter makes up for it! Next chapter should be shorter, so hopefully it comes quicker pft. Thanks to all of you for your patience and I hope you enjoy! Big thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading this over!

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Yuuji seldom stayed quiet. He jumped around, his voice booming, and every piece of slightly above par news would make him cheer or beam in delight. Everything about him was loud, outspoken, unreserved.

Tsukishima never understood why. They were the exact opposite in nature from the very beginning, but somehow, Tsukishima had overlooked that. Tsukishima hated admitting he was wrong though, that maybe it hadn't been his best decision.

He admired Yuuji, he really did, but maybe he'd turned a blind eye to other things...

He was still stubbornly holding onto that thread, the thread which linked him and Yuuji together.

Because you're afraid.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, trying to not let his mind run wild with undeserving emotions, ones someone in a committed relationship weren’t meant to feel. Letting his mind stray too far was dangerous, especially when it had to do with--

Stop.

Right there. That's not what we're going to think about.

As if to prove it to himself, he kicked the thermos which sat at his feet under one of his blankets, not wanting to let it get to him.

Kuroo's note still sat stuffed in his bag.

So much for not thinking about it...

Tsukishima sighed, and turned to stare down at his sleeping boyfriend. It made a small, fond smile break out on his face, and Tsukishima didn't question whether it was genuine or not. Yuuji snored sometimes when he slept, but it was still the quietest Tsukishima had ever heard him be in their short time together, and it was a nice side to him.

Just because Tsukishima didn't share his boyfriend's boisterous traits didn't mean he couldn't appreciate them. They weren't inherently bad or negative, and Yuuji was far from a bad guy.

Considering the men Tsukishima had run into in his life, he was probably one of the nicest.

But well, maybe he shouldn't have based the decision to date Yuuji entirely off that.

Yuuji was an endless spring of energy, and while Tsukishima had hoped it would be good for him when they'd first started dating, it quickly became hit or miss depending on the day. Sometimes Yuuji would pull him out of his apartment and they'd go on some spontaneous adventure to a new restaurant or a show, and it would be just what Tsukishima needed to get out of his comfort zone.

They'd have fun together, they'd kiss sometimes and Yuuji would hold his hand whenever he could...but most of their romantic intimacy was purely physical if Tsukishima was being completely honest.

The night would be fine though, and Tsukishima would go to sleep content. They were friends too, underneath it all. Tsukishima would never deny that.

Other days however...Yuuji simply drained him until he collapsed from mental exhaustion, or got snappy. The main issue was Yuuji never took no for an answer, so even if Tsukishima wasn't in the mood to go out or speak, he would be pulled in, time and again.

He wondered why he'd never noticed that before, why he'd brushed it off so many times...

Tsukishima's limbs were rigid as he laid next to his boyfriend, a defined gap separating them no matter how many times they went to bed somewhat tangled. He wondered if maybe he just wasn't a good cuddle partner, maybe his skin got too cold, because Yuuji would always end up moving away from him.

It was far from comfortable, like something was missing, as if something could be in a situation so simple as two people sharing a bed. Regardless, he knew what he knew, and it wasn't something he could easily rectify.

Not an extra pillow, not a better blanket...it was something deep in his chest which kept trying to tell him something, and he just wouldn't listen.

Frustrated, Tsukishima threw the blankets off of himself, exiting the tent with Kuroo's thermos in hand.

The sound of footsteps startled Kuroo enough for him to drop his fishing rod. In his defense, he was not used to his friends waking up at the same time as him, but Tsukishima was a different story.

"Shit," Kuroo cursed, scrambling to pick up his rod and splashing water on his jeans in the process. Smooth.

He'd decided to fish by himself for a while before the chaos commenced, plus he was starving, and he appreciated extra servings of fish, ones which his friends would have no right to steal from him (but they would try). However, when it came to the blond, he didn't mind being interrupted (because his heart was a damn traitor like that).

There was some satisfaction there at least, since...

"You look like you slept well," Kuroo said, grinning smugly. Tsukishima stood a few feet away, arms wrapped tightly around himself, and Kuroo resisted the urge to lend him his jacket. It probably wouldn't do much, since Tsukishima was perpetually freezing, and it didn't help Kuroo's case. His arms always twitched, eager to pull Tsukishima in and keep him close.

These were bad thoughts and he knew it, but he also knew that at this point there was no getting rid of them.

Tsukishima grinned back, rolling his eyes as he held up Kuroo's thermos. "I think you know why..."

Tsukishima hummed, walking closer until he and Kuroo were face to face. Kuroo waited, aware of the possibility that his gift wasn't welcome. After all, Tsukishima probably wanted them to keep their distance from each other. It would make things easier for Kuroo, but...they weren't exactly great at it.

Kuroo definitely wanted to be around Tsukishima, no doubt about it, but Tsukishima's own feelings were harder to gauge. Kuroo felt some of the pettiness from the night prior rise back up in his throat, but he pushed it down.

Tsukishima's eyes were soft, too soft for a friend's, and Kuroo knew sooner or later the blond would have to admit it. For now though, Kuroo's tension faded like the morning mist surrounding them, happy to be in the other's presence. He grabbed the thermos as Tsukishima offered it, letting their fingers touch, and neither of them flinched.

"Thank you," Tsukishima whispered, keeping his gaze on the thermos and the thermos alone. "It was good."

Kuroo chuckled, relishing in the way his heart soared. "I was worried it wouldn't be sweet enough for you."

And just like that, Tsukishima's face twisted in annoyance, Kuroo's favorite. "Shut up. I'm not that bad..."

"Tell it to the crap ton of s'mores you wolfed down last night," Kuroo threw back, and his grip on the thermos shook. He felt Tsukishima's fingertips overlap his own, and he tried to keep his breathing normal.

The situation itself was far from normal right then. He wondered how out of place it looked, the two of them, almost holding hands through a thermos and refusing to let it go. Could anyone blame them? It was one of their only chances to touch, and yeah it was kind of messed up and pathetic, but Kuroo couldn't fight all his urges.

Tsukishima wouldn't even acknowledge it as an urge, but honestly, Kuroo wanted to know what kind of excuse he was making in his head right then for not pulling his hand away.

So stubborn.

Tsukishima scoffed, pushing back on the thermos until it was against Kuroo's chest. Tsukishima still held onto it afterwards. "I'm not surprised you would turn a simple thank you into petty jabs."

"Maybe it just wasn't a very good thank you." Kuroo shrugged, pushing the thermos until it was against Tsukishima's chest, just under those cut-glass, sculpted by the gods collarbones.

Tsukishima's eyes flashed with something akin to fire, the competition in him rising. God, this is so stupid. They were just moving a thermos back and forth, but Kuroo was having a blast, fighting for the upper hand in their conversation which would allow him to push.

"What would've been a good thank you?" Tsukishima shot back, his fingers twitching beside Kuroo's. Kuroo kept the thermos locked there against him.

What a question.

What a very dangerous question.

Kuroo's eyes must've shone with the barely kept in desire, because Tsukishima's challenging grin started to fall. Kuroo couldn't have that, he was dead set on this not falling deeper into awkwardness. There would be enough of that later.

Speaking of...

Kuroo smiled easily, and he hoped it was believable that he hadn't been thinking anything too indecent. His grip on the thermos loosened, and Tsukishima pushed, letting it sit between them once again.

"Aha! Repayment! You could always buy me a drink tonight during the date we got roped into," Kuroo said ruefully. Bringing it up might've opened a whole new can of what the fuck but at this point he just needed to vent alright?

Plus, the alternative course of speaking would've been much worse, so this was better.

To think he'd ever say that about a forced date. Especially one with the real object of his affections had to sit across from him. Fun times.

Tsukishima winced, and Kuroo couldn't help but notice how his grip on the thermos tightened. "Yeah. Are you sure you're okay with that? The date I mean...You hate being set up."

Do you want me to not be okay with it?

Ah but Kuroo wouldn't take it there, because he was a damn nice guy. He really did hate being on the other side of persuasion, but he hadn't had much of a choice last night. Also...this was kind of his fault too.

Kuroo shook his head, and Tsukishima's eyes betrayed his concern, and maybe...something else which Kuroo wouldn't point out to him.

"It's only one night, maybe it'll be fun," Kuroo teased, pushing against Tsukishima's grip. His free hand wanted so desperately to grab Tsukishima's, but he refrained. He was getting really good at that.

Tsukishima laughed, a soft, humorless huff which was music to Kuroo's ears no less. "Yes, because a date with someone you don't even like is everyone's idea of a good time."

And just when Kuroo thought he had self-control.

"Who said I don't like him?"

Shit.

Kuroo would be lying if he said the instant drop of Tsukishima's smile didn't make him feel even a bit validated, but mostly he knew he'd stepped way out of line.

Sorta.

In reality, Tsukishima was just his friend. Friends talked about their relationships together, friends talked about crushes and encouraged each other to go for it.

It didn't feel right with them, and that should've been Tsukishima's first and final clue as to why they were sorely fucked.

Tsukishima stuttered, looking back down to thermos between them. He almost pulled away, Kuroo could feel his fingers receding, but goddammit he was not going to let this go yet. His index finger hooked tight around Tsukishima's, keeping him there.

"Uh, oh, yeah," Tsukishima recovered, clearing his throat. "That's...better then. At least it won't suck."

And fucking hell, Kuroo hated that face. Tsukishima's default 'neutral' face, the one he used in every situation when he didn't want people to know how he was feeling.

Tsukishima used it a lot at the library when he was frustrated with patrons, used it on this trip too. Around Terushima, around everyone, and Kuroo hated being on the receiving end.

Why are you so stubborn? It's not gonna suck because of Suga, it's going to suck because you'll be there and you're not mine.

"Well, he is nice," Kuroo said instead, keeping them from both sinking, keeping the piles of shit they were both supporting from toppling over.

Tsukishima's mouth twitched at the word. Nice. Huh. Did Tsukishima have a problem with that? He didn't have to. Kuroo knew that no matter how nice Suga was, it wasn't enough to cut it.

"He is," Tsukishima repeated, and after a few moments of silence, he pushed back on the thermos again. "I guess sometimes you are too. So maybe it'll work out..."

Kuroo balked. "I'll have you know I'm--"

"Always this nice? Uh-huh," Tsukishima said with a smirk. Kuroo laughed, squeezing Tsukishima's fingers in the most pitiful form of revenge. Or it was just him being selfish. He wouldn't dwell on it.

"It can't be helped with you," Kuroo said, and later he might blame it on a slip of the tongue but fuck he meant it. The laughter between them died, and their hands froze, the thermos growing warm under the strength with which they held it together. Tsukishima's smile fell again into something less guarded, so much more vulnerable. Kuroo was possibly a terrible person, but he'd never been good at lying, and it was almost impossible when Tsukishima was looking at him like that. "That's why tonight...won't work."

It's why no one else will ever work.

Tsukishima breathed out shakily, his eyes wavering as he bit his lip, most likely out of anger. But Kuroo thought maybe, just maybe, he was about to finally reach a breakthrough. Tsukishima would own up, and yeah it'd be painful, but they'd figure this out together, and everything would turn out alright.

Kuroo was embarrassed by how ready he was to plead for that, to make this awkward week finally be worth it. He wanted to know, or more like he needed to hear what he already knew.

Tsukishima only needed to recognize that.

Two of the blond's fingers were still twisted with his, and it made it all the more unbearable that stainless steel kept them from wrapping together.

"I--" Tsukishima opened his mouth, but never got the chance to ease Kuroo's curiosities.

"Ahem."

Ice poured through both of their veins. Kuroo could see it the moment it happened, when the color drained from Tsukishima's face and the panic flashed in his eyes, because Kuroo's emotions flip flopped in the exact same way. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

They dropped the thermos, and it hit the gravel with a dull thud.

Kuroo knew who it was before he even turned, but it made the situation worse. Now his peace of mind, or whatever was left of it, was going to go straight down the shitter.

Shirabu stood there, arms crossed and stare burning, trying to melt a sizable hole in Kuroo's head. Yup, like he said, straight to shit.

Tsukishima's body tensed up beside him, and Kuroo couldn't seem to stop fidgeting. He put a decent number of steps between himself and Tsukishima, to the point it was nearly comical how they'd gone from in each other's space to acting like they were carrying infectious diseases.

Tsukishima's arms were around his own shoulders again, but Kuroo doubted it was from the cold.

Why did Kuroo have to suck so much? It had not been a good past few days. He kept getting too carried away and now it was getting to another level of depressing.

Fuck. If Shirabu thought something was going on...there was nothing to stop him from telling everyone. Kuroo felt his heart tear, and he wanted nothing more than to throw up.

The silence between the three of them was thick and uncomfortable, waiting for Shirabu to say something...call them out...anything. Even the birds and the squirrels were nowhere to be found.

Eventually Shirabu cleared his throat, and both Kuroo and Tsukishima flinched. "Tsukishima, your boyfriend is looking for you. Something about a hike..."

Tsukishima jolted, taking awkward, hasty steps as his mouth fought for eloquence. "Oh yeah--well, I'll go talk to him then."

"You do that," Shirabu said, not even glancing at Tsukishima as he pitifully hurried away from the lakeside, but not before sparing Kuroo a second, concerned glance.

The water of the lake lapped against the shore, but that was the only sound passing between him and the boy he'd known all his life.

Kuroo debated on how well he'd be able to play this off, stupidly wondering if he had a slight chance. Deep down, he had to know better.

Then it changed in a second, the tension snapping the moment in half like a twig.

Shirabu strode up to him with confident, menacing steps. No matter how much shorter Shirabu was, it didn't stop him from being damn scary, and Kuroo shrunk away from the venom in his eyes, the spit in his voice. Shirabu's voice was cold, a normal volume, and devoid of heart. "Kuroo, what the fuck are you doing?"

Kuroo laughed, weak and worn down. "Oh you know...I thought I would fish and stuff, for--"

"No," Shirabu interrupted, and Kuroo cringed. Can't blame a guy for trying. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Kuroo glared then, his last defense hot on his tongue. Ignorance was not his best friend, since he observed and noticed everything, and Shirabu knew that, but Kuroo didn't have many options. "Shirabu, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Shirabu's voice was a hiss, but at least he had enough decency to drop his voice to a whisper. For a second, Kuroo was sure he was in for a full on screaming match. Shirabu didn't take prisoners, and he could cut people down with words left and right, once that polite outer shell got cracked.

Maybe Shirabu wasn't in the mood for that though, or maybe he just loved Kuroo a whole fucking lot, because the rage in him seemed to be extinguished before it was too late.

The fire in his eyes lessened, but his mouth still quivered from the insults trapped inside it. Shirabu gave a long, shaking exhale, eyeing Kuroo with pure confusion and disappointment.

"Kuroo," he whispered, his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't know what's going on, and right now I don't think I want to."

Kuroo couldn't feel at ease despite the words, not with Shirabu's gaze so searing. "I trust you Kuroo, you do stupid things and I don't know what you're thinking half the time but I trust you. So I won't say anything. I won't ask. Not yet."

Shirabu turned away in the direction of the campsite, the wall between them building itself brick by brick with the silence.

Shirabu didn't look at him again. "And for your sake, I hope you have better self-control from now on."

And as Kuroo stood there, frozen on the cold lakeshore, he couldn't help but hope the same.

They made it back to the house later that afternoon, mostly because Oikawa insisted on having time to get ready to go out on the town, as if this were the city and not the middle of the mountains.

Kuroo couldn't say he was as excited. Shirabu was constantly side eyeing him now, but he was subtle about it, so hopefully Semi hadn't noticed.

Kuroo stared at his own reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing his jeans and t-shirt in an effort to feel like he was going out on a normal, fun date. Unfortunately, his mind kept falling back to his earlier talk with Tsukishima, and how mortifying it had been.

This date was just another thing to add to potential ways he could feel like crap.

Kuroo groaned as he ran a hand through his hair, knowing there was no use trying to straighten it out. There was no use trying to straighten him out either--ha.

He hardly laughed. Another bad sign. If gay jokes didn't work to cheer him up then nothing would.

Downstairs, he could hear Oikawa shouting for him, and he sighed, ready as he'd ever be. Kuroo only hoped the night wouldn't bring any more surprises, because he doubted he had the capacity to take them.

"Are you sure you guys don't wanna come?"

Kuroo heard Terushima's voice as he walked down the stairs, only to see Shirabu and Semi lounging on the couch, probably more than happy all the loudest people in the house were leaving. In fact, they looked like they couldn't wait.

"Nope," they both said at once, but at least Semi had enough politeness to mutter a 'thank you.’ Kuroo would've smiled, but Shirabu's eyes found him instantly, and the knowing gleam in them sent chills up Kuroo's spine.

Luckily, he had distractions.

"You clean up nice," Suga said, strolling up to his side. And okay, there was no way he meant it. No when Suga was dressed like that.

Suga stood there smiling at him, blinding in every respect. His hair was neatly styled, but not obnoxiously gelled up, and Kuroo couldn't stop himself from looking down at his outfit. A grey jumper underneath a faded denim jacket, black skinny jeans and grey sneakers. Simple, but stunning. All the colors seemed to work perfectly together, and the look was effortless, something Suga could've very well just thrown on without realizing he could murder half the neighborhood. Again, Kuroo had no clue how this guy was single.

Suga basically put everyone else in the room to shame, minus Tsukishima, but Kuroo was biased. Maybe Oikawa too, but only because of all those hair products the brunet used.

Kuroo blinked, trying not to look at Oikawa's smug expression, the bastard.

"You're one to talk," he said, running a hand through his hair. "You look great!"

Suga's smile fell into brief surprise before it was back, twice as bright, and light pink dusted the tops of his cheeks. "Thank you! I kinda just...dressed for the cold..."

So you threw it on. Called it.

Kuroo laughed along with him, some of the pressure from earlier melting away. At least Suga was pleasant to be around, nothing about Kuroo's reactions were faked.

"Can you guys flirt at the restaurant? I'm starving!" Oikawa interrupted, and already he began pulling Iwaizumi out the front door, but not without smirking one last time at Semi and Shirabu. "Enjoy the alone time love birds! I know how much you need it!"

Shirabu flipped him off.

Suga giggled next to him. "Sorry about that."

"Psh, no big deal," Kuroo reassured, following Suga towards the door. "I'm used to Oikawa being shameless anyways."

"I guess I still need more exposure then." Suga's smile was teasing, and Kuroo snorted. If Suga had no qualms about poking fun at Oikawa, they were going to get along just fine.

Then again, Kuroo knew this was only the beginning of Oikawa's teasing and prodding. The brunet truly had no issue with embarrassing Kuroo in public, and the worst was yet to come.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get more than enough tonight..." Kuroo sighed, holding the door open for Suga, Terushima, and Tsukishima as they stepped out.

Tsukishima wouldn't look at him, but the crease in his forehead made Kuroo want to reach forward and smooth it out. Really, he'd do anything to get rid of the frown on the blond's face.

Right then though, he was Suga's date and nothing else, and he'd be a good one dammit.

As they left the house, Kuroo got sucked into one of Suga's stories about Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and he nearly forgot all about Shirabu's eyes on him as he walked out. Suga's voice rang light and soothing, and he got lost in the conversation easily, making comments about Oikawa whenever need be.

They had no choice but to take separate rides, and Kuroo held the door open for Suga as he climbed into the back of Iwaizumi's car. He heard Terushima's own car start up behind him, and the curiosity was too much, because more than anything Kuroo wanted to be wherever Tsukishima was. He glanced back right before hopping into Iwaizumi's car, just in time to watch Tsukishima tear his gaze away from him.

The ride was mostly filled with silence, and Kuroo wondered if Suga could tell that Kuroo was simply not present. His mind wandered off somewhere else, to someone else. If Suga could, Kuroo was grateful he didn't seem to mind.

Of course, he couldn't check out completely, not with Oikawa putting on a show.

"Kuroo actually graduated top of his class, and he's always been a great writer," Oikawa said, talking a mile a minute. "You read the magazine he works for, don't you Suga-chan? I'm sure you've read some of his articles!"

And it just didn't stop.

"Suga-chan wants to be a surgeon, isn't that cool? He's in the top 1% of his class too, right Hajime?"

"Kuroo, didn't you say you always wanted to live outside the city? Suga is the same way!" Iwaizumi even inserted a fact here or there, though much more awkwardly, no doubt in cahoots with his boyfriend.

Kuroo wasn't angry, he was hardly embarrassed either. The couple in front of him were trying so damn hard to set him up, but only because they wanted him and Suga to be happy. Kuroo couldn't look down on that kind of friendship, no matter how obnoxious.

So instead, he just sneaked glances at Suga every now and again, rolling his eyes or making faces until the other laughed. Oikawa, the romance auctioneer himself, didn't shut up until they pulled into the parking lot, but given how hilarious and ridiculous it made the car ride feel, Kuroo didn't once try to stop him.

His heart felt lighter, and he and Suga were trying to pitifully hold back their laughter as they piled out of the car.

However, as Kuroo glanced up at the bright neon lights, catching a flash of blond hair waiting at the front of the restaurant, he knew things wouldn't be lighthearted for long.

At least he could take comfort in knowing he wasn't the only one who felt that way, and he smiled at Tsukishima, unable to stop himself.

Tsukishima, lacking his own self-control, smiled back, hand laced with Terushima's.

"Man this place is awesome!" Terushima shouted, way too loud even given the volume of the music around them. Kuroo grinned at his cousin's antics, scouting the large dining hall with Suga at his side.

It really was Terushima's kind of place. Which meant...

Yup. Thought so.

Tsukishima looked immediately disgruntled with the loudness around him, as well as the surprising amount of people. Kuroo couldn't say he didn't get it, as social as he was, this was a bit much for a quiet date. He would've preferred to stay at the lake house, with Shirabu there or not.

He smiled, tearing his gaze away before the blond had a chance to notice him, since he always caught Kuroo in the act.

The music blared, a love song, and Kuroo sighed ruefully. At least he could blame zoning out on the music and atmosphere, if he happened to lose focus.

The restaurant they were at doubled as a bar, and it was surprisingly lively given how remote the town was. Although, Kuroo guessed it was prime vacation season. There were bright, colored lights flashing onto the dark wooden floor, and the music was upbeat and catchy. More than a few couples were dancing in the center of the large room, and the food smelled delicious as waiters carried out dishes to the many tables. The whole place had a homey, romantic feel to it, with people laughing and enjoying the atmosphere for what it was.

How perfect, he thought sardonically, and all of a sudden the dread was back. Because romantic atmosphere basically predicted an affectionate Terushima, and Kuroo didn't care to see that at all.

Not that he had a choice.

"C'mon, I think there's a table this way," Terushima said, tugging Tsukishima along, and the blond followed blindly, trusting his boyfriend like they'd done this millions of times.

They probably had.

Kuroo couldn't be angry about it either, watching the way Tsukishima let himself be tugged along on some unknown adventure. It was how Terushima had been as a kid too, pulling everyone along with him.

Tsukishima didn't resist though, that was the difference.

Kuroo looked away to stop himself from overthinking anymore, and was met with Suga's kind stare as he hooked his arm around Kuroo's. "Shall we? I think we deserve a drink after that car ride."

Suga's eyes twinkled with mirth as they drifted over to where Oikawa and Iwaizumi were walking, giggling and blushing all the while.

Gross.

Kuroo laughed, his smile smug as he gladly led Suga towards the table. "Sounds like a plan to me."

And they made sure to honor the promise. Kuroo didn't know much about alcohol, so he let Suga pick samples for him. The other was surprisingly knowledgeable about different brands and drinks.

Kuroo took a sip of his newest tester, humming at the smoothness of the citrus flavor. "Damn, I like that one too. Can you just recommend drinks for me forever?"

"Jumping the gun a bit, aren't you?" Tsukishima muttered, and Terushima snickered beside him, not reading the jab as anything but playful.

So that's how it's gonna be...

"Suga always recommends the best stuff," Iwaizumi said with a shrug. "If it weren't for him, Oikawa and I would go out to the same two places."

"You mean you would go to the same two places," Oikawa protested. "I try to take us to new places all the time, you're just so picky!"

"Me? What about that one time..."

"That doesn't count!"

Kuroo rolled his eyes, glancing at Suga with a flat stare. The other laughed, sipping from his own drink. "Well, I'm glad my services are useful to you. You have to try mine next!"

"You're a godsend," Kuroo said, and he meant it. Not just for the drinks, but for Suga's ability to deal with the other lovebirds so effortlessly. Without him, Kuroo would've strangled Oikawa by now.

"Flattery will get you nowhere..."

"Is that a challenge? It works for most people," Kuroo joked, downing the last of his tester. He looked up, meeting Tsukishima's unimpressed stare.

How he made such a pinched expression look so pretty, Kuroo would never know.

The sound of Suga's voice stole his attention back, knocking him away from the magnetic pull. "Actually, flattery is my biggest weakness, spoiler alert," Suga said, smiling cheekily.

Kuroo admired the bluntness, but even then it was offset by the light blush on Suga's cheeks, making it all the more endearing.

"Huh, guess Kuroo can compliment all he wants then," Terushima said, and Kuroo kicked him under the table for that damn smirk of his.

"Mm," Tsukishima hummed, taking a drink from Terushima's beer.

Hey now, this is worse for me.

At least Kuroo could admit his feelings and his jealousy. I mean goddamn. Terushima's arm had been around Tsukishima's shoulders all night, bringing him close and sharing precious body heat. This fucking sucked.

He wasn't showing it though, and Tsukishima's inability to do the same was equal parts adorable and maddening.

Vaguely, Kuroo wondered if Tsukishima knew Kuroo wasn't having a good time, and that's why he was in such a bad mood. The blond did hate it whenever Kuroo pretended around him, didn't like the falseness.

Somehow, the insight made the situation more difficult. Sure, Kuroo liked to toot his own horn about how much he knew about Tsukishima, but in reality, it was very much a two-way street.

"It's good you're here with Kuroo then, he's been a cheesy guy since high school," Terushima teased, immune to Kuroo's kicks due to years of childhood fights.

Asshole.

"You're one to talk, you're just as bad," Kuroo shot back, trying to maintain a playful tone as he referred to how handsy and affectionate he'd become since dating Tsukishima.

Maybe Kuroo had a competitive streak of his own. Sue him.

"That's a good thing in my book, and who says no to being adored? Respectfully anyways," Suga added, and Terushima pointed at him in approval.

"See? He gets it, that's my kind of date," Terushima said, kissing Tsukishima's temple. "Kei's not romantic enough, won't even see those dumb rom-coms with me."

Terushima sighed, drama oozing from every pore, and Tsukishima shoved him, smiling fondly.

"Aw, I love those!" Suga said, which launched Terushima right into the movie rant which Kuroo had been forced to endure for years.

Terushima might've come off as a delinquent, but his interests were varied, some more surprising than others.

"Same here! Have you seen that one with..."

Kuroo listened, trying not to fake gag at some of the titles, and he and Tsukishima exchanged the first non-dread filled look of the night, communicating the same thought.

Ew.

Of course, they could both appreciate a good romantic comedy. They'd had a full on discussion about it once, both of them admitting to their lists of personal favorites.

But hey, Terushima and Suga had bad taste. Nothing wrong with that.

Eventually the topics rolled on, moving to work and college stories from the past. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had long since vacated the table in favor of dancing, and Kuroo thought he might've been in the clear, that he'd escaped a majority of the romantic talk of the night. Wrong.

"You need to stop painting gifts for me and actually do your work, clients are starting to catch on," Tsukishima said, laughing at Terushima's groan. Apparently, he was a little behind on a few commissions. Vacations were good for one’s health though, yeah?

"But you're my best customer," Terushima said, his puppy dog eyes as lethal as they'd always been.

"Is that why you're going broke?"

Terushima gasped, the sound loud enough to break the conversation of the nearby tables. "Babe, how could you? After everything I do for you."

"I bought you gas like...three days ago."

"The audacity."

They both barely held in their amusement, because Terushima was far from broke. He wasn't rich, he did well, but it was obvious that this was an inside joke between the two of them. Kuroo shifted awkwardly, aware of the intimacy which came from the display, but part of him was glad Terushima had found as good of a friend as Tsukishima.

The other part of him...well...he was green with envy.

If he could've slapped himself, he most definitely would've. Bad friend, bad.

"I'd love to see your paintings sometime Terushima, especially since my apartment walls are so boring..." Suga said, and Terushima actually flushed. He'd always been a great artist, but part of him stayed humble when confronted with direct praise. It was something the group of friends tended to take advantage of. Embarrassing Terushima was rare but it was worth it.

"Buy me my next drink and you can have some of them free of charge," Terushima offered. "My garage is getting way too cluttered."

"It really is," Tsukishima muttered into his drink, ignoring Terushima's annoyed stare.

Not that it deterred Suga in the slightest.

Suga smiled, taking Terushima's glass without a second thought as he hopped off his barstool. "You got a deal."

They all watched as Suga walked away, and that's when Kuroo felt it, the tension. The build up to something, and then it happened before he could even properly prepare himself.

Terushima turned to him, leering. "C'mon Kuroo, he's great. You can't say you're not hitting it off."

Oh man, here we go.

Kuroo laughed, bringing his empty glass closer to his body. "I mean I think we're all kind of hitting it off with him yeah? He's great."

Please drop it, please drop it, please--

"He's also hot man, and you're hella single," Terushima said, bluntly, and Kuroo's eyes widened.

"Dude..." Kuroo said, glancing at Tsukishima, who was staring at a very defined chip in the table.

"Huh? Oh, Kei doesn't mind, he thinks you guys would be good together too," Terushima said, shrugging, and Tsukishima's head snapped up. "Don't you?"

"Yeah, do you?" Kuroo asked, voice teasing enough to get the blond's attention. Tsukishima glared at him.

"Did I ever say that?" Tsukishima asked, voice just short of clipped. The displeasure was also back in his face, and Kuroo nearly reached over to smooth out the forehead creases himself.

And again, Terushima was completely oblivious. Good.

"Well, no, but I think so. You gotta agree, right? I mean, they'd be cute together!" Terushima took out his phone, checking his notifications as the conversation went on.

Kuroo leaned over, begging Terushima to keep his damn voice down. Suga would be back any minute.

"Eh what's the big deal, secret crushes are so high school anyways," Terushima said with a shrug.

"I don't know if I'd call it a crush," Kuroo replied through gritted teeth. As much as pushing Tsukishima's buttons was fun, he didn't want Suga to think he was interested.

That got Terushima's attention. "What? Why not?"

So many answers, all of them terrible.

Because I'm in love with your boyfriend, duh.

How many times would he have to remind himself how bad of an idea that was?

He didn't get a chance to fumble for excuses, or trip over his own tongue.

"I don't think he's Kuroo's type," Tsukishima's voice, clear and direct, sliced through the panic in Kuroo's head.

Terushima looked at his boyfriend then, intrigued, while a whole new set of conflicts rushed through Kuroo's head. "Why do you say that?"

Kuroo's panic was replaced with the desire for pure, uninhibited provocation. Kuroo had to feel jealous every day, every minute he had to be around Terushima and Tsukishima, but what? Now Tsukishima was obviously feeling the same way? The blond couldn't even stop denying those feelings for two seconds, and now he got to make Kuroo feel bad? No. Kuroo wanted answers.

While Kuroo knew he'd regret it, like last time, Tsukishima was asking for it.

By the end of the night, he wanted things to be clear.

Maybe he hadn't been as transparent as he'd thought, but later, he'd make sure he was. For now...

Kuroo huffed a laugh. "Yeah Tsukishima, what exactly is my type then?"

The blond's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Gotcha.

"You're just reading too much into it like you always do," Terushima said offhandedly. "No offense babe."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tsukishima said, his voice returning to cold politeness. Kuroo winced.

"You know," Terushima began with a shrug, flippant in every way. "You over-analyze everything, sometimes you just gotta wing it. If things don't work out they don't work out, no big deal."

"Oh, is that how you see it?" Tsukishima said, eyes filled with a storm which send chills down Kuroo spine.

In another life, he might've argued with Terushima. He disagreed after all. Tsukishima did analyze, but not to pick apart. He observed and appreciated everything with the sole goal of trying to understand. It made him cautious, maybe even wary, but it also made him attuned to the world in a way Kuroo respected and loved.

For Tsukishima, things like relationships were a big deal, and he didn't get involved in them unless he believed they had the potential to last. Kuroo was the same way, and Terushima's frivolous attitude probably rubbed them both the wrong way.

"I say go for it," Terushima said, clinking Kuroo's glass with his own, and Kuroo laughed, since there wasn't much else for him to do. He would certainly not be going for it, but if his cousin wanted to believe that for the night, whatever.

Tsukishima's shoulders relaxed, reeling in his anger, and it dissipated right before Kuroo's eyes. Right, this is supposed to be fun.

He felt like a broken record at this point.

Suga returned with more drinks soon after, returning the conversation to a more lighthearted realm. "Wow, the music sure is great. I don't know how people can dance so much though..."

Terushima perked up, straightening in his chair as he grabbed Tsukishima by the shoulders. "Babe, we should dance!"

The fear in Tsukishima's eyes made Kuroo break, he couldn't help it, his laugh was so ugly a few heads turned.

"Shut it!" Tsukishima snapped at him before turning back to Terushima, face twisting into hesitance. "Uh...I'd rather not."

"What? But you love to dance!" Terushima insisted, tugging Tsukishima along.

The blond's face lit up. "No--ugh, at home! Not here! And not around people!"

"Ugh you're no fun," Terushima said, falling back into his chair with a flop. Tsukishima managed to look relieved for about two seconds before Terushima was scooting close to him again, eyes shining with devilish intentions. "Unless you'd rather keep me here all to yourself for a while..."

And yeah, that's where Kuroo would make his exit.

He stood up in a flash, fast enough for the chair to squeak beneath him.

"Would you like to dance?" Kuroo asked, extending his hand towards Suga. Kuroo wasn't much of dancer either, but it was this or stay and try not to barf.

Suga blinked, but his surprise quickly turned into a bright grin, and he grabbed Kuroo's hand with a wink.

"Only if you can keep up," Suga said, and Kuroo never was one to back down from a challenge. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel Tsukishima's eyes burning into the back of his neck, and he pushed away the mild guilt which came with it.

He was supposed to be letting loose. No commitments were required, no matter how much Oikawa or Terushima kept pushing for Kuroo to make a real move on Suga. His cousin threw him a thumbs-up from the table as Suga guided him, and yeah okay, maybe Kuroo was being a dick, but Tsukishima's jealous face was so cute.

Being human was terrible.

They arrived at the dance floor soon after, and Suga placed Kuroo's hands in the right position for him, one on Suga's shoulder and one on his waist. Kuroo flushed at his inexperience, but Suga didn't make him feel dumb about it, so he didn't mind.

The first song was easy enough too, not much speed or beats to move with. They just swayed for a while, enjoying each other's company.

The stress relief helped, and Kuroo sighed. Of course, he was an idiot with bad self-control, so his eyes roamed the room constantly, hoping to catch a glance of Tsukishima.

He wondered if Tsukishima would've danced with him, had he asked...

"I'm really happy we came out tonight," Suga said, breaking Kuroo out of his thoughts. "Not that camping wasn't fun but...I'm more of a city boy."

"I could tell," Kuroo laughed. "But you did a good enough job with Tsukishima's help."

"Stop being so nice, my tent looked deformed. I would've rather someone did it for me, as bad as it sounds" Suga said, his smile sheepish. "Comfier that way. I swear it nearly collapsed on me. This is better. Bars and drinks I can do."

Kuroo smiled, twirling Suga once as they kept moving. Talking helped Kuroo's feet go into autopilot, and he felt less afraid of stepping on people now. "I think it was a good idea too. And uh hey, I really appreciate you coming as my date."

Despite our annoying friends.

Kuroo meant it too, he did value Suga's company. If he'd been forced to come alone...he might've died.

“Oh yeah totally,” Suga nodded happily, and for a minute Kuroo let himself get lost in the false comfort of small talk. This was nice. This was great. He didn’t even have to think about Tsukishima.

Then Suga's eyes widened, and he smacked himself in the head lightly. "Oh by the way, almost forgot to ask! Who are you trying to make jealous?”

Kuroo's brain stopped functioning, and he nearly bumped into the nearest couple, suddenly unable to steer his feet in the right direction. His eyes felt like they would completely fall out of his head, and his mouth dried up in an instant. Suga's hands on his shoulders were probably the only thing keeping him from falling the fuck over. He fought for words, but all that came out were choked sounds, like a fish out of water.

And what did Suga do in response? Fucking nothing. Just stood there smiling like he'd asked about the latest superhero movie instead of piercing Kuroo's soul and extracting his biggest secret.

"What--you--there's...no. I mean," Kuroo said, his laughter echoing just the tiniest bit of insanity. "I’m not trying--what--why would you even--"

"Let's get some things sorted out, shall we?" Suga said, his voice as pleasant and carefree as ever. Kuroo had no real choice but to listen.

Not that he was against that, not with Suga's eyes boring into his with such unmasked sincerity. "Kuroo, you're a great guy but I have to tell you, I'm not really interested in dating right now. I kinda just went along with this because Oikawa seemed so excited..."

Kuroo blinked, watching as Suga's smile turned into something more apologetic. Well, this was not the direction he anticipated this conversation to go in, but he felt relieved that Suga wasn't looking for a relationship.

Suga sighed, pulling their bodies closer together as the music grew louder around them. "I felt really bad about leading you on, but truth is I'm not ready yet...and I don't wanna rush into something you know? Especially when we're not...enthusiastic..."

Oh, I know.

Kuroo knew that all too well, and he forced himself not to look in Tsukishima's direction. The fact that Suga could tell from the beginning he wasn't interested did make him feel a touch guilty though, and he got ready to apologize himself, except Suga's hand was covering his mouth about a second later.

"You don't need to be sorry, okay? There's nothing to forgive, and you've been a great date anyways," Suga said with a wink.

"I mean, I am a gentleman," Kuroo said, wiggling his eyebrows. He hadn't forgotten Suga's jealousy observation, but he'd do anything to delay an explanation.

Wishful thinking.

Suga shook his head, laughing, but Kuroo knew he wasn't done. Goddammit. Suga's eyes flashed with something a bit more dangerous, pinning Kuroo to the spot.

"But the thing is...Kuroo, I'm not stupid. You've been looking around all paranoid, and you zone out every ten minutes. And judging from the way you rushed me onto the dance floor...something's up. Am I wrong?"

The smirk on Suga's face told Kuroo he knew nothing about what he'd said had been wrong. Confident bastard. No wonder he and Oikawa got along so great.

But was Kuroo truly that transparent? No wonder Shirabu looked ready to kill him. He needed to be more careful. Why did Tsukishima make him fall into stupid mode?

"I wouldn't worry about the others, I don't think they've noticed," Suga said, as if reading Kuroo's mind. "I'm just nosy. Sorry about that."

"Are you though?" Kuroo said, his laugh humorless.

"Mm, not at all."

Right. Great.

Kuroo sighed, his palms growing clammy, but Suga refused to let him go. And why lie at this point? Kuroo was bursting at the seams. Suga wasn't exactly his friend at the start of the trip, but he seemed trustworthy enough. Besides, he didn't exactly know Tsukishima was the real reason Kuroo couldn't commit to any other relationships.

Best to keep things vague then...

"Listen Suga," Kuroo sighed. "I won't say you're wrong or anything but it's just kinda personal. I don't want to talk about it if that's alright with you?"

Kuroo winced. Because in actuality, he wanted to talk about it more than anything. Hell, he wanted to scream 'I love Tsukishima' from the rooftops but that was just bad manners. He'd been bottling up his frustration for weeks, and now he had no choice but to turn away his only potential source of therapy.

It's for the best. That's what he kept telling himself. The less people that knew the better.

"Okay, I understand," Suga said easily, and Kuroo felt his shoulders somewhat relax again. However, about two seconds of dancing later..."I didn't take you as having a thing for blonds but we're all full of surprises I guess."

This time, Kuroo actually tripped, only missing the floor because Suga managed to pull him up in time, and they crashed into each other, closer than ever. Suga's eyes gleamed as they stared at each other, like he was waiting for Kuroo to crack, and fuck it, that's exactly what he was about to do.

He'd been backed into a corner like a mouse, and now he had no choice but to cave into the hungry lion.

Fuck.

"How did you figure it out?" Kuroo whispered, and he could feel Suga's breath against his cheek before they pulled back a little, resuming their dance.

Today had not been a good testament to his secrecy skills, that was for sure.

His heart kept beating a mile a minute, and Kuroo almost didn't need Suga to explain himself. All he wanted was him to swear he wouldn't tell anyone else.

Suga smiled, squeezing Kuroo's shoulder comfortingly. "It sounds lame but you guys kind of give off a vibe? When Iwaizumi and I first showed up at the house, and you two were together on the porch...I could just tell. I ended up being shocked he was Terushima's boyfriend and not yours."

The words sent a shock to Kuroo's heart he really wasn't expecting, and he shut his eyes tight, letting the feeling of yearning wash over him. "Oh..."

He remembered that morning too. Tsukishima's gentle voice, the bags under his eyes, how Kuroo just wanted to shield him from the new day and let him sleep as long as he needed to.

If only it could've been that way.

Suga's smile fell, and he chewed on his lip. Now that he knew, Kuroo had no issue showing his dismay. What was the point in hiding it?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry this much but...you both looked really sad earlier," Suga said quietly, a stark contrast to the peppy music playing in the bar.

Kuroo's head snapped up. Both of them?

"Wait, he--"

"You can't tell me you don't notice, right?" Suga said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're hopeless. But to be clear, I obviously don't know the whole situation, and I can't agree with any infidelity. I feel for you Kuroo I really do, but I can't support this. If Tsukishima is cheating on--"

"He would never do that!" Kuroo snapped instantly, the anger seeping into his features enough to make Suga flinch. Kuroo immediately recovered, sighing with guilt. "Sorry...but, I know Tsukishima wouldn't do that. I wouldn't let him. We both care about Terushima."

And despite how fucked up their situation was, Kuroo was grateful to Tsukishima for taking care of his cousin. Terushima obviously trusted the blond a lot, and Tsukishima treated him well. Kuroo knew Tsukishima wouldn't step on Terushima's feelings, and the fact was both admirable and concerning.

Eventually, something or someone would have to break. Kuroo wasn't naive enough now to think this would work. That Tsukishima and Terushima could just be together happily, and Kuroo would one day move on.

It simply wasn't a possible reality, no matter how much easier it would be.

"Then how did this happen?" Suga whispered, reaching up to move some stray hairs out of Kuroo's eyes. Kuroo leaned into the touch, seeking the comfort he'd been forced to go without. At least sharing his secret left him feeling less insane, like he could carry on for a little while longer.

"It's complicated, and judging from the fact our third song's about to end, I don't have much time to explain," Kuroo said with a laugh. "But Tsukishima...he's special to me. I don't want to hurt my cousin either. I didn't want it to get this bad in the first place? It's a mess and I wish I had done a lot of things differently. I get that's hard to believe since I was trying to make Tsukki jealous all night but, I'm only human."

And as shitty as it is, part of me can't bear to see him with someone else.

Kuroo laughed, staring at the floor. The sound held no joy. "I don't know how to fix this yet, but I want to do the best job I can. That's all I can say right now."

And that was the truth. Kuroo didn't have a plan, but he didn't want people to get hurt, he'd gladly shoulder all the pain for them. Problem was, Tsukishima probably felt the exact same way.

He waited for Suga's reply with bated breath, hoping, praying he'd understand. Suga stared at him, his eyes filled with a pity Kuroo couldn't take, and he looked at Suga's lips instead, waiting for the words to come.

Maybe later Kuroo would give him the whole story, if only so the other wouldn't think him to be a complete piece of shit for falling for his cousin's boyfriend.

Suga sighed, nodding his head slowly. His smile was back, softer this time, and Kuroo thought he might actually cry. "I believe you. I hope you both find what you're looking for, and I'm here whenever you need me, okay?"

The words rang through Kuroo's whole being, and he couldn't help but chuckle. After all, he'd already found what he was looking for. Things were never that simple though.

They danced through one more song, content with the silence for a while, and Kuroo felt relieved he now had someone to confide in. Kuroo felt far too exposed and vulnerable right then, but at least his heart wasn't as heavy, and he let himself smile as the song came to an end.

In addition to that, Suga knew how to lighten the mood in the best of ways.

"If it makes you feel any better, he hasn't stopped looking at us this entire time," Suga said, humming happily. "All the touches and smiles were probably driving him nuts."

Kuroo snorted, unable to help the surge of glee he felt as they walked back to the table. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were looking at them expectantly, having returned, and only then did Kuroo realize how it must've looked. He and Suga had been dancing super close to each other due to the nature of their conversation, and they were definitely more at ease with each other now...

It screamed intimacy, and while it would get his friends off his back, Kuroo felt his stomach seize at the thought of Tsukishima reading too much into it. A little jealousy was one thing, but the last thing Kuroo wanted was the blond thinking he'd fallen for someone else in the span of one date.

As if.

Tsukishima knew him better right?

But Kuroo also knew first how badly observation and analysis could be thwarted by emotions.

He found Tsukishima's eyes, and felt his heart sink.

Well, he had been wanting a confrontation. Guess he was finally getting one.

He lagged behind the group as they exited the bar, holding the door open and waiting for Tsukishima to be the last one to step out.

And of course he was. They were in sync like that, for better or worse.

"We need to talk later," Tsukishima said, his voice a hushed, urgent whisper. The words made Kuroo's stomach churn, because they almost sounded cracked, hurt, and with an edge of desperation Kuroo knew all too well.

He didn't want to wait.

Kuroo wanted to talk to Tsukishima right then and there, he couldn't stand leaving things this way, not even for a twenty minute car ride.

I'm sorry.

I pushed too far.

I just want to know what I mean to you.

But Kuroo didn't have the luxury of immediacy. He had to pile back into Iwaizumi's car, laughing and smiling all the way, his body on autopilot as Oikawa's teasing filled the space once more. If Suga sensed his tension, he didn't comment.

They fell behind Terushima's car, and Kuroo nearly chuckled. He was always following after Tsukishima, and he wouldn't have it any other way, but right then it was pure agony.

He didn't know what they would talk about, only that they would, and the fear and anticipation had Kuroo's head spinning.

His gut twisted, and he wondered if Tsukishima was as nervous, maybe tugging on his fingers or chewing on his lip...two resilient habits Kuroo had noticed.

He would never know for sure, but he had a pretty good idea, especially as he saw Tsukishima's head turn to look back in Kuroo's direction.

#adri writing #haikyuu!!#kurotsuki #tsukishima kei #kuroo tetsurou

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transboygenius · 5 years

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SE4SON: Chapter 19

[*Back in medieval, in the afternoon*]

Jimmy and Nick were getting ready for their dinner with the king. Jimmy was putting on his cloak and hat, while Nick was slipping into his suit of armor. They even used the "cologne" Benson lend them.

"You don't have to wear the helmet, you know." Said Jimmy. "Eh. I feel more comfortable with my face hidden." Replied Nick.

Sally, sitting on a stack of hay, glowed by Nick's comment. That's exactly what the Silver Knight would say. The knight never shown his face. It could have something to do with his fear of facing reality, or how he's too shy to let anyone see him express facial emotions. Nothing will ever convince her that these two young gents aren't the heroic saviors from the past. Jimmy is wise, calm, and holds the same physical features as the Wise Wizard, described in the diary. Aside from the obvious armor, Nick is sassy yet sweet, just like the Silver Knight. Also to add, he is much taller compared to his partner. The way she has watched them, they seem to prefer standing by each other's side, as well as feeling comfortable together. They also sleep in the same barn. The wizard and knight may have lost their memories, but the way they feel for each other hasn't changed. Two gentlemen unwinding in a hot spring five feet apart cuz they're platonic comrades.

"So, Mr. Jimmy Wizard..." Asked Sally. "That's not my full name, and please don't call me that again." Replied Jimmy. "...I know you're incapable of doing magic, with your memory gone and all, but I'm sure you still possess the brains. How smart are you still?" "'How smart are you still?' That's improper use of grammar. I'm not 'still smart,' I'm 'always smart!' And FYI, I'm more smarter than you can bet on! Ask me anything!" "O-kay? Why is the sky blue?" "Appropriate answer from an eight-year old. Blue light is scattered in all directions by the minuscule molecules of air in Earth's atmosphere! Blue is scattered more than other colors because it peregrinates as shorter, more minute waves! Therefore, we optically discern an azure most of the time!" "Yep! You'd definitely have to be a super smart artist to sum up words I've never even heard of or understand." "Ask me another one if you please!" "How do you plan to turn the king's bargain against him?" "I was expecting either a science or history type question." "Like, are you gonna lure him into a pit of spikes?" "What? No! Where are we gonna find a spiky pit?" "You have a point there, very impractical. Hmmmmmm. Maybe you could poison his drink!" "Even though this is the medieval century, I'm not entirely sure poison is legalized in this town, given all the strict rules." "And all his pretty boys there will be watching us like hawks." Nick added. "Why not just have Diana step on him?"

Jimmy and Nick both looked at her in cringed expressions.

"You know, squash him like a cockroach? SPLAT! She's already big enough!"

The two boys were then relieved, but they still disagreed with her notion.

"How 'bout we lure him into a pit?" Asked Rodent Girl, who's in the barn with them for unknown reason. "We've already discussed this." Exclaimed Jimmy. "Ah, you did, but instead of spikes, which we don't have access to, King Jason falls into some scalding, melted cheese! And I have plenty of gouda, provolone, and mozzarella to spare! That would make his death slowfully painful. Not to mention, delicious! Mwahahahahahahaha."

Silence filled the barn, and everyone looked at Rodent Girl awkwardly, even the animals. Such a weird idea coming from a weird girl. All this silence started to make her nervous. Pretending as though she said nothing, she decided to go about her business, drinking from the cow's udder. Of course, that didn't make things less weird. Benson suddenly pokes his head through the barn door. It's obvious he's been eavesdropping again.

"May I suggest loosening the joints and screws on his throne so that he falls over and breaks his neck? The old fart did mentioned in the editorials that he would rather die there than on a deathbed. Mwahahahahahahaha." "Were you there this whole time?" Asked Nick. "Oh. Heavens no! I was just dropping by to... ...get Miss Oona! She must freshen up before she's ready to meet the king!"

Benson then separated the teen from the cow, and dragged her out of the barn. Jimmy, Nick, and Sally followed.

"Now, young lady, you go ahead inside and brush your teeth this instant! We've got a royal dinner to attend very soon!" Said Benson, handing Rodent Girl a toothbrush. "'Brush my teeth?' What's wrong with the smell of organic milk?" Replied Rodent Girl. "Come here!"

Benson then picked up Rodent Girl, and tried to brush her teeth by force. Jimmy and Nick decided to return the cologne bottle inside. As always, Sally followed behind them. The boys were surprised to see Mitzi, back from work early. She looked very upset, resting both of her elbows on the table. Nick took off his helmet to look less suspicious, despite still standing in full armor. Diana was comforting her. Her pupils shifted to Jimmy and Nick for a short moment, and then back into blank space. She was too pissed to question their silly "dress-up game." Out of curiosity, Jimmy quietly asked Diana what the problem was.

"Mitzi got fired from her job. The blacksmith industry recently hired a new man." Said Diana. "That's right, a man! One not very smart. One who absolutely has no qualified skills. One to only write 'Plz gimme a job :)' on his resume! Bloody King Jason and his bloody male dominated, privilege system!" Mitzi screamed.

She got so mad, she banged on the table, knocking off a bowl of fruit. Mitzi was the only one to have a job, and now she lost it. That was the only job left available in the village. If she had been a man, she would've have kept that job. She has been in blacksmith for 12 years, and now replaced with an inexperienced gentlemen. Diana can steal stuff, but she can't always find what they need, such as condiments, medicine, and toiletries. Also, the animals might die without food. This job was much more important to the Faithful Five than you think. Nick didn't want this to happen to his friends. Nick walked right up to Mitzi, reached into his pocket, then pulled out a bunch of coins. Mitzi was very intrigued. There were even six silver coins and a gold one.

"Take every single penny. And just to be clear; it's not you I'm helping, it's me and Jimmy's friends. So, spend this wisely." Exclaimed Nick. "Where did you get those?" Asked Jimmy. "Snatched them from the green hoods' campsite during our smoke bomb loot." "Why didn't you tell me about this before?" "Hey, I thought these would be worth more in our time than in this time. I was gonna split it with you, btw."

Mitzi looked at the coins in front of her. Demons never gave gifts to fool their victims, they only relied on manipulation. In their cases, children are the easiest to lure in. They never cared for money, and was only interested in robbing the youth from their childhoods. They keep shiny and valuable things to themselves. Demons would never spare change to a poor man. These creatures were merciless and sadistic. None of Jimmy and Nick's friendly gestures ever moved her, but this is one trait Mitzi is new to. Nick just gave away everything he had in his pocket, all to make sure her family stays healthy. A true demon would never make sacrifices. Despite that, she still feels she's not ready to fully trust the boys yet. Her entire life imprisoned, and tormented, by the demons for fourteen years. Mitzi accepted the coins, but didn't give out a "thank you," which is what Nick had expected. She then got up so she could fetch her basket for grocery shopping.

Jimmy climbed up Diana to whisper in her ear, letting her know that it's time to hit the road. Nick put his helmet back on, Diana combed Butterscotch's mane real quick, and Benson helped Rodent Girl rinse. Also, she spitted in his face afterwards. Jimmy, Nick, and Sally rode on Butterscotch, while Rodent Girl hitched a piggyback ride on Diana. Luckily, she was light as grapes to her. After the seven of them journeyed off, Sally had just remember that she forgot to introduce herself to Mitzi. Speaking of Mitzi, when she returned to the living room with her basket, everyone was suddenly gone. Not a single peep of sound heard. Something's not right.

.............................

[*Meanwhile, in the twenty first century*]

The whole search party was camping outside of the Neutron household, waiting for their Cbae order to arrive. Hugh was role-playing family with his plastic ducks. Libby was listening to her playlist on shuffle. Carl was practicing magic again. Sheen had Goddard project more holograms while speaking into the voice module microphone, just so he could hear his acquaintances/rivals say what he wants to hear. And finally, Judy was showing Mrs. Dean some pictures of Jimmy through the photo album.

"Why is your son wearing a dress in this-"

Judy slammed the album closed.

"Okay! What say I get us some more snacks? Just notify me when the delivery truck arrives!" Said Judy. "No need for that, Mrs. Neutron! I have a box of Bossete's Intergalactic Twinkles™!" Replied Sheen, holding up his Ultralord themed snack. "Sheen, I love you, honey, but the cream filling of those twinkles taste like dish soap." Said Libby. "They do not! Dish soap is more light and tangy. Carl likes them!" "Actually, I only like eating the outside sponge cake. That's the most edible part of the snack." Spoke Carl.

Judy decided to just head inside and fetch those snacks. But before she was about to step inside, she suddenly heard a truck slowly roll in, and then come to a stop. It's here.

"Mrs. Neutron! The delivery truck is here!" Shouted Carl, Sheen, and Libby. "Sugar Booger! The nice, friendly delivery man has arrived!" Also shouted Hugh.

Judy ran up to the truck in excitement. The delivery man steps out of the driving compartment with his notepad.

"Delivery for, username 'bigmommyftw?'" Asked the delivery man. "That's me, young man!" Replied Judy. "Please sign right here, madam."

The delivery man then handed Judy his notepad, where she began to write out her signature. After that, he went into his truck to give her the item she ordered online. The man came out with a big, heavy box. Judy relieved the man of his pain by taking the box from him, and to his surprise, she was much stronger than she looked. He headed back into his truck and drove. After he left, Judy immediately cranked the box open with a crowbar. Instead of finding the machine in there, bits and pieces spilled out. They are suppose to build the time machine themselves. Judy searched among the pieces to look for the instructions. She found them, but with rotten luck, they were written in Korean. No matter how hard she looked through the pamphlet, all was in Korean. She tried to look for another instructional pamphlet buried in the machine parts, but the second one was written in Chinese.

"Anybody here speak Korean? Or at least Chinese?" Asked Judy.

Everyone said no, until Sheen had an idea.

"Wait! You don't have to worry, Mrs. Neutron! Luckily, I recently have installed this cultural translator app!"

Sheen grabbed the pamphlet from Judy, and then typed out the instructions onto his phone. Unfortunately, the translation came out wrong. Very wrong.

"'Apply extra lube before inserting the r.b. Johnson deep into the main combustion valve. Rock back and fourth to push in further, until it reaches that spot.' What kind of app did I even download!?"

Sheen uninstalled his app, went straight to the app store, then filed a very negative review, with a one star rating.

"Your app stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinks! 😡😡😡😡😡😡👎👎👎 How do you sleep at night?!!1!!! Don't download, y'all!"

"Hold on, everyone! I once dated a Korean man, who was the owner of this 4 star Korean barbecue! He taught me a few words in his native language, so maybe I can make something out in those instructions!" Said Mrs. Dean.

Sheen handed her the pamphlet. She carefully scanned her eyes through the instructions on each page. Everyone looked at her eagerly.

"Okay, I know that this word means 'please.' This one means 'screw.' And this, I think, is suppose to mean 'nose.'" Mrs. Dean explained. "That's it?" Asked Judy. "Well, I never paid much attention to him. I only dated that man for free meats." "I think I know just the person to help!" Spoke Libby. "Who?" Everyone questioned. "Cindy! She studied about 50 different foreign languages! One of them includes Korean! Hang tight! I'll be right back!"

Libby then ran across the street to the Vortex house. She just hopes she can catch Cindy in her good mood.

................................

An angsty Cindy Vortex was slouching down in her beanbag, surrounding herself with comfort food and a two liter bottle of Purple Flurp. Humphrey was eating out of a bag of Corn Poofs. Cindy drank her tub of melted ice cream through a straw, while watching her new favorite reality TV show: Man Down. It's a show where women and teen girls get to take extreme measurements of revenge on their ex-boyfriends. She switched to this show after watching To Love Or Not To Love, a soap opera which aired an episode about a man promising to a woman that he will work hard to be a better person, and then begged for her forgiveness. Nothing seems to make her happy anymore. She's just too stubborn to swallow her pride.

"CINDY!" Libby burst through her bedroom door. "What?" Asked Cindy. "We need your help! We just ordered this new time machine online, don't question where we got the money, but we can't read the instructions! That's why I came to you!" "Well, it's not my fault Y'ALL forgot to read. (Everyone has gone stupid nowadays. Jimmy is the first)" "Huh- No no no no, we can't read the instructions cuz they're printed in another language! Please help us! Without that time machine, we may never be able to save Jimmy and Nick!" "What, did they get warped into another century by accident, or something?" "Yes! I have the security footage to prove it!" "Leave 'em. They deserve each other anyways." "Girl, could you stop thinking about yourself for once! All you've done is eat and behave sour at any human being in your contact! What did they ever do to you? I've had it with your depression over this breakup thing! This is a friend in danger! Not to mention, Mrs. Dean's only child!" "Excuse me? What did you say to me?" "We have to rescue a friend, plus a woman's only child who happens to be an acquaintance of ours!" "I wasn't asking about that!"

Cindy was so pissed, she crushed her potato crisps into dust. She got up from her beanbag and began to scold Libby, while making her walk backwards toward the door.

"You know, Libby, I thought you were very supportive of me! I thought you were one of the few good people in this world! But now, you reek of fink stink! You turned into them! For your information, I'm over the breakup! Neutron isn't my problem anymore, nor is he something to be dealt with! If I wanna sit on my butt all day eating comfort food, I can, cuz it's called self-respect! And I'm not sour! I was being confident! There's a difference!" "Cindy, I think you need hel-" "WHY IS EVERYONE TRYING TO TELL ME THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME?! If you care so much about finding Neutron, why don't you make him your new best friend?!"

As Libby was now outside of the room, Cindy slammed the door. She went back to her beanbag and slouched down in it. She just booted her best friend out. Her other half. Her trustful conscience. All because she refuses to listen to voice of reason. It's her inferiority complex that's keeping her from admitting to her flaws. She is always fighting to be that perfect woman, but always feels she's not good enough in the end. She's mad at Jimmy for ruining, what she thought they had, a beautiful relationship. And she's also mad at him for thinking he's smarter than her. She loves him, but at the same time she hates him. They seemed to have gotten along very decently when they were friends, but Cindy feels romance always comes first before friendship. And she can't help it that she has developed feelings for Jimmy. No matter how toxic they were together, Cindy just can't seem to let go. But the more she keeps holding on, the more pain it brings her. Sometimes it's very important to move on.

Cindy began to look at a couple of camera photos on her phone. They were of her, and her best friend Libby. She had been her best friend ever since first grade. Libby was the one who invited her for coloring when her friendship with Betty Quinlan died down. (Will be explained some time later in the future) While Cindy was obsessed with working hard and being the best, Libby showed her how to have fun like a normal girl for a change, yet she never tried to get in the way of her goals. Libby was a respectful friend, and a supportive one too. She was one of a kind. Now, after Cindy brushed her off like that, she may never speak to her again. Cindy was now alone. Worse, she's still too stubborn to fix this problem herself. She didn't even wanna make a simple call or text on her phone.

.................................

While walking across the street, Libby kept looking over her shoulder, in hopes to see if Cindy would walk out that front door and apologize. The poor girl is worse than she was before. She thinks the whole world has turned against her when it's really trying to help her. But nobody can help her now. She probably wouldn't even listen to her parents. This behavior was starting to frighten Libby, which means she should stay away from her for awhile. Cindy is on her own now. But how long will it be before she actually recovers? When Libby made it to the other side of the street, she broke the bad news to her squad.

"Sorry gang. Cindy can't help us. ...for personal reasons." Said Libby. "That's okay, deary! We'll just make-do with this!" Replied Judy.

Judy handed Libby the instruction pamphlet. Confused, Libby looked through it, and every word appeared to be in English.

"You found an English copy?" Asked Libby. "No. Goddard just ate the Korean pamphlet, and then printed a translated alternative! *Whispers* Please don't ask how." Replied Judy. "And he liked it, too!" Shouted Carl, who then fed Goddard the Chinese instructions. "Well, what are we waiting for, squad? We've got a time machine to build, and there's no time for breaks!"

Libby should be happy at this moment, but it's hard to with Cindy on her mind. It would've been a true team experience to have everyone working together.

...............................

[*Elsewhere, in another time*]

The whole crew continued traveling down that path, catching awkward stares from random civilians they pass. Benson was clutching his purse tightly, sweating like a hog. He hasn't gone out in so long, he forgot how much he feared eye contact from strangers. Diana just casually smiled and waved, as if she were on a parade float. Rodent Girl had fallen asleep, which gave everyone the conclusion that Diana was carrying some human corpse. Jimmy and Nick seemed to be doing fine, as wellerr as Sally. Jimmy didn't look like he mind Nick holding onto his shoulders tightly. Sally watched from the back.

"Are you nervous?" Asked Nick. "A bit. Are you?" Jimmy asked back. "I know you can't tell by now from my helmet, but, yeah. A hella nervous." "Care to share that issue with me? After all, it is a genius's job to answer a lot of questions." "This other half of Jason's bargain, I'm a little anxious to know just what he wants from us. For all we know, he could be looking for blood, or a new heir. What if it's something that's impossible to find?" "Calm down, Nick. Please?" "*Sighs deeply* Alright, I'll cool it. ...for now. Though I'm pretty sure we don't have a plan." "C'mon, we have made it this far. Like, for example, you managed to pull the wool over the mine keeper's eyes, and then come home with some fresh, raw quartz. Bet that was really scary, huh?" "Very. And exhausting, too." "It's okay. Whatever task the king has in store for us, it probably won't be any more difficult now that you have me. And Diana. Perhaps Rodent Girl could make use to us, somehow."

Nick was highly flattered after Jimmy had mentioned "you have me." That was all the motivation he needed to calm down completely. Once again, Nick was blushing under his helmet. Sally grinned at the two. Their order of communication definitely sounds like the Wise Wizard and Silver Knight, from what she read in her dad's diary. After a long walk, they made it to the castle. The drawbridge was already opened, and King Jason was waiting for them right there, with some knights in his presence.

"Ah! I thought you'd never make it! Welcome, guests, to my humble abode!" Greeted Jason. "Even though some of us have already been here yesterday." Joked Nick. "*Snickers* I especially welcome you again, O Wise Wizard and Silver Knight!"

Diana, Jimmy, Nick, Benson, and even Butterscotch, were very awestruck by Jason's comment. Rodent Girl even woke up to say "What?!" Now the king? Jimmy and Nick turned their heads to Sally, who was giving them a smug expression. That annoyed them deeply.

"Uhhhhhhhhh, I'm afraid-" Benson was about to give his say, but then Jimmy cut him off. "H-he's afraid to setteth foot in thy stronghold, your greatness! He's an extremely shy type!" Jimmy explained. "Oh, your friend hast nothing to worry about. You can count on my guards to protect HER."

King Jason was really more horrible than Benson expected. Despite the obvious goatee beard showing, he called him a "her" just because he's wearing a frilly apron, holding a purse, and mentioned to have real humanly emotions. If it weren't for all those guards right there, and the fact that he is the king, Benson would give him "a man" by blowing five fingers to his face. Speaking of which, he wonders why Jimmy had cut him off. After Nick helped Jimmy off of Butterscotch, Benson grabbed him for a short, private, and quiet, conversation.

"What was the meaning of cutting me off like that?" Asked Benson. "Because, have a moment to think. If he knew we were just some commoner children instead of a couple of noble legends from the past, he's gonna give us all a field trip to the gallows." Replied Jimmy.

Benson thought, maybe Jimmy has a point there. That could clarify on why King Jason showed them mercy, even if they did break an entry and posed as an authority. To him, the Wise Wizard and Silver Knight are a gold mine. Everyone walked forward into the castle.

"Wait, you're bringing the horse inside?! *Points to Butterscotch*" Jason questioned. "Butterscotch is family! Wherever we go, he comes with us! Talk to the man, Jimmy!" Exclaimed Diana. "Well, he is an important part of the group." Said Jimmy, while shrugging. "Fffffff-fine. But I hold your friend in charge of cleaning up after it!" Scoffed Jason. "Houyhnhnm! (I'm house trained, you biased pompous!)" Whinnied an embarrassed Butterscotch.

While the king was guiding them to the dining room, they met a strange man in the halls, who was the new cook, chasing a white rabbit and bearing a cleaver in hand.

"Stuart! What is this mindless folly?!" Screamed the king "An ingredient is trying to get away!"

#Jimmy Neutron #Boy Genius #Nick Dean #Cindy Vortex #Libby Folfax #Carl Wheezer #Sheen Estevez #Season 4 #fanfic #romance #adventure #TVverse #TVEE

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paintedrecs · 7 years

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You're such a good author!! What are you thinking when you're writing? And what's your editing process? If you don't mind me asking!!

Ah, thank you!! I’m very often thinking “wow I am not a good author” while I’m writing, so it’s always nice to hear positive responses once the finished work is out there. :)

This ended up (unsurprisingly) long, so be aware there’s gonna be a Read More.

My editing process is very, very nitpicky. To begin with, I edit a LOT as I write, so those two questions share some answers.

I considered posting a photo of a page I handwrote this week, but I don’t want to subject you to that. Suffice it to say that if I’m writing in pen, there’s a lot of scribbling and paragraphs that branch off into the margins and spiral around the edges of the page as I rework sentences and expand sections. Before I switched to writing almost exclusively on my computer, I used to use a mechanical pencil to make all that a little less messy. Still, though. Eraser shavings. Everywhere.

It seems like most of fandom swears by writing sprints, and I can’t do it. I either write in long, tireless stretches where I forget to move for hours, or I spend an hour writing a sentence, frowning thoughtfully at it, tweaking a few words, tilting my head to the side, changing it back, muttering, “No I don’t like that,” and shifting the structure until it fits with the rest of the story.

I spend a lot of time reading my own writing out loud, which is part of why I’m not usually that productive when I try to write in public. (Although once I’m in the zone, I’ll write on my phone as I walk to the grocery store, take the bus to work, etc. I probably still mutter to myself.) At this point, my poor neighbor has probably heard the entirety of all my fics in scattered bursts. I’ll read a single paragraph to myself six times in a row to make sure the pacing sounds right and the dialogue feels natural.

I’m a start-to-finish writer: if I write scenes out of order, they won’t work in the final version. With tide pulls, I wrote all this emotional, ultra angsty dialogue that I was expecting to stick into one of their final scenes, but by the time I got there, it didn’t fit. I initially tried to squeeze stuff around it to keep those lines intact, but it’s never a good idea to force your characters into something that they don’t naturally want to do over the course of the story. It rings false, and I think readers can generally tell.

That’s not to say that I don’t plan ahead or map out certain arcs or important scenes. I just don’t write them in their full form until I’ve reached that point. PDIW was much, much too long to plunge through without an outline; if I hadn’t marked down and organized all the emotional points I wanted to hit, I would’ve lost control over the scope of it. (Which is ridiculous to say when it’s over 200k, but it had the most detailed outline I’ve ever made for one of my stories.)

Still, though, pieces moved around a lot. I’d push a scene into a later chapter when it turned out that Derek and Stiles needed to talk to each other more before getting to that exchange. Or a conversation that was meant to be between Derek and Laura ended up being between him and Cora instead, catching both of us by surprise. Laura was always Derek’s best friend and confidante, but he turned out to have a lot more in common with his younger sister than he’d ever realized. Of course I had to let that play out.

There are a few sentences I desperately wanted to get into the final version, but they’re clumped at the bottom of my notes doc, along with all the other unused or deleted material. Sometimes you think a phrase sounds really, really pretty, but if your character doesn’t want to say it, that’s all there is to it.

I don’t have a beta for my shorter fics, because by the time I’m done writing, I’ve probably spent more time editing than actually putting new words down on the page. (Unless they’re tumblr fics or notfics, in which case please forgive the fact that they’re wobbly; they’re just me having fun!) That doesn’t make the final product perfect by any means, but I don’t have a regular beta set up to read over my fics for me, and I don’t like bugging people unless it’s necessary.

For my longest fics, I tried to rope in at least 2-3 betas. It seems like most people in fandom just share their fic’s Google Drive link, sometimes while it’s still a WIP, and have their betas all work in the same doc. It may be annoying that I don’t do that…but I want to get separate, unbiased responses. If multiple people tell me to fix the same thing, it definitely needs more work. With that said, I’ve found that there actually doesn’t tend to be all that much overlap, because betas have different styles in much the same way that writers do.

The fandom dream (or any writer’s dream) is to have a set, longterm writer-beta relationship, because it really does involve a lot of trust and communication. One of my PDIW betas was the wonderful @bleep0bleep , who prodded tirelessly at all my pronouns and long paragraphs but also took the time to learn my style and where I most need/want help. (She also laughed at me when I had conversations with myself in the comments while figuring out how to fix passages that she’d told me weren’t working.) She and other betas found gaps that you simply can’t see for yourself after spending that long immersed in your own story. I ended up writing a few extra scenes and expanding some other areas, and the final version is absolutely better as a result.

If this was going to be a published work, I would’ve ideally set it aside for several months so I could come back to it with fresh eyes. My posting schedule for PDIW was already months behind what I’d originally planned, and I was super eager to share it, so I rushed right into the next stage. I also very much wanted to start posting on April 1, since that was Stiles’s birthday in the fic.

So I finished writing the final chapter, gave myself about a day to celebrate, then went right back to the first chapter and started editing. My betas got those pretty-much-completed chapters, and I took their edits and suggestions and transferred them back into my central doc. Then I started drafting the fic on AO3, editing each chapter one final time as I was posting.

It was…tiring. I wrote the fic in about 7 months and edited the entire thing twice…almost three times?…in a little over a month. I’m going to give myself more leeway if I ever do that again. Thank goodness for my speed-reading betas, though.

I don’t know if any of that was the kind of information you were interested in hearing. Welcome to my writing world, I guess? It’s a little messy, but it has pretty intricate organization if you know what to look for.

As for what I’m thinking as I’m writing…that’s a complicated answer. Is it weird to say that I’m kind of not thinking anything? Writing is a craft, but it’s also a strangely instinctive part of myself that I tap into when it’s going well. I absolutely cannot write if I’m busy thinking about where a scene should go or whether anyone’s going to like reading it or if I even remember how to string words together. That’s the kind of thing that makes me slam right up against writer’s block. Or, if I do manage to get words down, they’re clunky and I’m never really satisfied with them.

When I sit down to write, I do my best to clear my mind out. I tap into my characters. If I’m writing from Derek’s POV, I’m seeing him - all his gestures, mannerisms, the actions he’s taking in a scene - but it’s more important to me that I’m feeling what he’s feeling. The same goes for Stiles, or anyone else whose eyes I’m trying to see through. I guess I’m an emotional writer? I want to feel things as I’m writing, and if I did it right, my readers should feel things, too. It doesn’t always work, but when it does, it’s incredibly rewarding.

Reading has always been an escape for me. When I’m wrapped up in a book, I lose touch with the world around me and slide into the pages, living alongside the characters. Writing’s the same way. It’s an indescribable, addictive feeling.

When I finished PDIW, it almost felt like I’d lost a part of myself, because I was letting go of something I’d been living with and dreaming about and spending so much time getting to know.

I’m glad I got to share it, though. It’s a wrenching, terrifying process, but you all made it worthwhile. The final step of a story is its readers. Thank you for being amazing ones, and for letting me share my words with you.

#pdiw #about my fics #long post #fic talk #Anonymous

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decembercamiecherries · 7 years

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Title: Words That Water Flowers

Total word count: 5753

Chapters: 5

Chapter 5 summary:

Koi No Yokan (Japanese)- the sudden knowledge upon meeting someone that the two of you are destined to fall in love

Chapter 5 is up on ao3! You can read it below the cut, too

Thank you again to everyone for the love and attention this story has received so far!!! It's made me so happy ^^

ALSO! There won't be a chapter next weekend because I'm going home so I won't have time to write and/or update this story. So the next update will be weekend of March 11th!

Killua Zoldyck met Gon Freecss at the tender age of twelve on his first day of public school.

Killua had been running late. Very late, actually. His mother didn’t want him to go; she had begged him for weeks upon weeks to reconsider being home-schooled, to staying with her and the rest of their so-called family every single day for the rest of his life with no hope of escape-

Killua remembered thinking that he would rather choke himself then stay cooped up in that horrible mansion with his horrible relatives for another year.

(Years later, with flower petals clogging his throat and the sharp taste of iron on his tongue, he couldn’t help but laugh brokenly. Oh, the irony.)

Because he was so late, Killua had grabbed his skateboard on the way to the front door. He figured it would be quicker to get to school using that than to walk the whole way. He dodged his mother’s snatching hands, skipped around Canary and Gotoh who had been carrying freshly-polished silverware, and bolted down the driveway as fast as his legs could carry him.

Free, Killua had thought, breathing in the late summer air. I’m free.

It didn’t take him long to get to there. Killua was going as fast as possible on his skateboard, loving the feel of wind ripping through his hair and the whistle of air in his ears. On the inside, though, his stomach twisted and his heart pounded- was he excited, or nervous? Killua didn’t know. He didn’t take the time to think about it though, and as Killua turned onto his new school’s street he spotted another boy sprinting down the sidewalk just a few feet ahead of him.

The knots in his stomach loosened slightly. So he wasn’t the only one not getting to school on time. Not that he really cared too much, but. He didn’t want to get in trouble on the first day.

“Are you-” the boy panted as Killua glided up to his side, “-running late, too?”

Killua raised his eyebrows. He would’ve thought that was obvious. “Yeah?”

“Heh.” The boy grinned, sunlight glittering in gold-brown eyes. “I’m- ahhh- glad! I’m not alone.”

Killua felt a pang deep in his chest; that was why he was here, why he was going to public school. He didn’t want to be alone in that mansion anymore. He wanted to know other kids his age. He wanted friends.

“How old are you?” he asked the boy.

“Twelve!”

Killua considered the boy one last time: he had weird spikes for hair, an obnoxious green jacket that was obviously homemade, bright eyes and a face that glowed with a mix of curiosity and simple joy.

Okay. Why not? Killua could always dump this kid if he ever got too annoying.

Killua nimbly flipped off his skateboard, catching it with one hand. He landed on the sidewalk hard enough to send a jolt of pain up his legs, but that didn’t bother him. He was used to worse pain, anyway.

“I’m Killua,” he said as the other kid gaped at him with wonder.

“Ah, that was so cool!” the boy gushed and Killua couldn’t help the blotchy blush that rose to his cheeks.

Killua grumbled, “That was nothing…ah, I don’t know your-”

“Gon!” the boy chirped as a wide smile spread across his face. “Gon Freecss! Will you show me how to do that flip thing with your skateboard? At lunch, maybe?”

Killua had flushed even harder and nodded.

During lunch later that same day, Killua held Gon’s sweaty hand to keep him steady as the shorter boy tried out Killua’s skateboard. Gon’s grip was tight enough on for his nails leave imprints on Killua’s skin.

Killua kind of deserved that though; he had pushed Gon down the pavement fast enough to make Gon wobble on the thin board and shriek at the top of his lungs. Gon’s scream had been so loud that Killua’s ears rang for the rest of the day. But at the time, he was laughing too hard to notice.

Afterwards they laid in the grass together and ate their lunch, talking about dreams and video games and everything in between. Gon spent the rest of their free time carefully weaving them both matching flower crowns.

Killua remembered thinking that those crowns were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, even if the flowers Gon had chosen smelled too strong and their colors were a harsh mix of red-scarlet-gold.

“You look beautiful!” Gon blurted out as Killua tenderly touched the flowers on his head.

“Stu-stupid!” Killua snapped, cheeks burning like they’d been set on fire. “You can’t just go around saying stuff like that! Its embarrassing!”

“But it’s the truth!” Gon protested and Killua’s mouth shut with a click. “And we’re friends, so it’s okay to say stuff like that to your friends!”

Killua had seriously doubted that- the part about it being alright to call friends ‘pretty’, not the fact that they were friends. Because Gon proved their friendship by coming back to Killua every single day with that million-watt smile of his, and the matching mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Sometimes it seemed to Killua like he and Gon had been destined to meet and become best friends; being with Gon- laughing at his faces during school, sharing the cookies Gon’s aunt had packed for lunch, having sleepovers and falling asleep facing each other- was as simple and easy as breathing. Or at least it used to be, until one day Killua was absent-mindedly thinking about Gon and suddenly couldn’t breathe at all.

The sun-dipped petal that he coughed into his bare hand that day was the start of the end.

He and Gon had been friends for years by then, hardly ever leaving each other’s sides. They did everything together. Gon was everything. So it didn’t take Killua that long to figure out who exactly was the cause of the Hanahaki Disease.

He didn’t even know he loved Gon like that until that exact moment. But it made perfect sense. The petals were the answer to the way Killua’s heart had started to racing at the sound of Gon’s voice, and how seeing his best friend made butterflies come to life in his gut.

He had to make sure, though.

“Gon,” Killua rasped out, just days after he first started coughing up petals the color of setting suns and too bright flames and deep red wine. “Gon.”

“Hmm?” Gon was concentrating too hard on a math problem to notice how Killua’s voice shook and something in Killua’s chest tightened.

That was probably for the best. He didn’t want Gon to get suspicious and start worrying about him, after all.

“Gon,” Killua tried again. “You know the day we met? When you made those flower crowns in the schoolyard during lunch? What flowers did you use?”

Gon paused. His brows furrowed as he frowned.

Killua sighed, disappointed. “You don’t remember, do you.”

“Mmm, no, I definitely do! I just- oh!” Gon brightened. “I remember now!”

“Yeah?” Killua’s stomach was heavy like it was filled to the brim with led. Or, in Killua’s case, petals.

“Yep!” Gon chirped as he gave Killua that all too familiar dazzling smile.

“They were marigolds. You know? Those bright flowers that always smell kinda funny?”

Killua swallowed, ignoring the soft-velvety tickle against his throat.

“Yeah. I know.”

#dc writes #Words That Water Flowers #WTWF chp5 #hanahaki au #au #modern au #killugon #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #hunterxhunter

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classicrewind · 7 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Knows

Lil background for ya’ll: It’s 1982, Bonzo’s still alive (yay!), Zeppelin’s on hiatus (somewhat?); AU in which Jimmy finds himself at the right place at just the right time (for once)

[This may or may not be complete rubbish, I was kind of delirious…]

Chapter One (of who knows…) September 1982

He was late. Just like he was every other day that week. It was Thursday; a cool, drizzly September afternoon. Glancing down at his watch, he grimaced before placing a cigarette between his lips. “Shit, shit shit shit.” He quickened his pace as he counted the remaining blocks to his destination.

The rain was starting to come down as he finally reached the train station. Taking the steps two at a time, he pulled his jacket up over his head heading briskly to his platform. It was crowded, as he figured it would be at 5 o'clock on a weekday. He lit his cigarette and checked his watch once again.

His train hadn’t left yet, which was good, seeing as the next one to Pangbourne wouldn’t leave for another hour. By then, Jonesy would’ve killed him. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

Jimmy blew out a stream of smoke as he looked for the signs locating his platform. Throngs of people weaved in and out as they made their daily commute home from the city. Finally reaching his train, he stubbed out his cigarette and boarded.

It was packed and he cursed himself for once again, being late. His favorite section had been filled long before he boarded, so he made his way to the back, looking for a more empty cabin.

Anna was early. She usually was on Thursdays. Her last class ended at 3 and she usually finished grading all coursework before 4. So she liked to take the 5:30pm train home. Being a Literature major had its perks, for one, she always had something to read. It made passing the time much easier.

As the train made its way into the station, she gathered her books and got ready to board. She found her favorite cabin and made herself comfortable in the time she had before the train took off again. Anna preferred to sit in the far back of the train, where most people didn’t venture very often. It was quiet, which made it perfect for her to concentrate.

However, that day the train seemed more packed than normal, she noticed as women started to make their way to the back of the cabin. Anna pulled out her dog-eared copy of a collection of poems by Yeats and began to read. It was one of her favorites, much loved by her over the years. A little too much, since the pages were covered in her writing, some of them coming apart from the binding. But she didn’t care. If anything, it made her treasure it more.

She noticed him as soon as he entered the cabin. It took her a second to recognize from where she had seen his face, but it eventually came to her. Zeppelin. Jimmy Page. She looked down at her book, just in case he saw her watching him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him make his way over to the seat across from her and sit down. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips before his attention was caught by something outside the window.

Anna took this as an opportunity to study him. He was thin, much thinner than he looked in photos. His hair was cut shorter than it was in previous years. She could see dark circles forming under his dark green eyes. It seemed as if something was troubling him, something that was worth losing sleep over. Tearing his gaze away from the window, he pulled his lighter out and light his cigarette. Anna returned to reading her book.

Jimmy had found a seat located all the way in the back of the cabin and promptly sat down. He pulled out a cigarette as the train pulled away from the station.

Once outside, he could see a flock of birds take off into the sky. Starting to fly south already, huh? He watched in fascination as he they all flew in formation, changing directions several times as they made their ascent into the sky. He had always wondered how they knew how to do that, like schools of fish. he watched them until he could no longer make out their shape.

Tearing his eyes from the window, he fished out the lighter from his pocket and lit his cigarette. Inhaling, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying the first release of nicotine into his system. It never feels as good after the first drag. Never. In fact, it only gets worse.

He forgot to eat again today, too busy between that meeting with Peter, and shopping for a new guitar. But the nicotine suppressed his appetite, although he never found himself hungry lately. Too much on his mind.

He continued to smoke, pondering the day’s events. He was thinking about the new eight-string guitar he had his hands on in the shop. It was a beauty, really. He had never really gravitated toward eight-strings before, but he wanted to experiment, and they allowed him to play with the idea of major thirds tuning, something he hadn’t previously done. He smiled to himself thinking of how good the guitar felt in his hands, as he had strummed out a few chord progressions, getting a feel for its sound. He was taken out of his daydream by a small giggle, followed by two more. They were barely audible, but he heard them.

Opening his eyes slowly, he peered at the girl sitting across from him. She had a miniscule smile on her face as her eyes were lost on the pages in front of her. She was beautiful; breathtaking, really. He found himself outright staring at her as she was enthralled in her book.

Jimmy tried to make out the title on the battered book in her hands. Yeats. Ah, ‘And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead, And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.’ Good choice. He loved Yeats. It reminded him of his childhood. His mother reading poems to him before nightfall.

The girl in front of him still had not noticed him staring, so he continued to observe her. She had long, naturally auburn hair that fell softly down her shoulders. He could make out some tiny freckles that dotted the very tops of her cheeks and nose. She looked no older than twenty-five, but something about her screamed an old soul.

She bit her lip as she read the last lines on the page. She then closed her eyes, as if to savor those words for only a moment before opening them to meet Jimmy’s gaze.

She had amber-brown eyes, Jimmy noticed. Warm, like honey. Could hold the entirety of your soul inside them. He could feel her gaze warm him from the inside out. He began to feel good for a moment. She gave him a Mona Lisa-esque smile as their eyes stayed locked on one another. He returned her smile and she slowly tore her eyes away from his, returning once more to her book. Once her eyes left his, Jimmy felt himself grow cold once more, a feeling all-too-familiar to him these days. He forced himself to look away from her, retiring his gaze onto the setting sun outside the window.

Heat rose into Anna’s cheeks as she felt Jimmy’s gaze on her. She had read to the end of the page, and was trying her very best to concentrate, but she was flustered. She let out a small sigh, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them, meeting his gaze for the very first time.

His eyes were dark, cold. Sharp enough to cut glass. But the longer she watched him, the softer they grew. They were deep enough to get lost in, drown in. So deep you could never find your way back up to the surface. What was that saying? ‘Still waters run deep.’ He was alluring in every aspect of the word; his face was stoic, but his eyes betrayed him, they seemed to say ‘notice me.’ Anna could feel herself getting sucked in. His gaze was soul-shattering, as if he could read you, know you better than you know yourself, but she just couldn’t look away.

She gave him a small smile before reluctantly tearing her eyes away from his. She flipped a page and began to read once more.

The rest of the train ride went by quickly, and before she knew it the train had stopped in Pangbourne. Which meant her stop was next.

This was Jimmy’s stop. He was meeting John Paul, Robert and Bonzo for a rehearsal tonight. They were to play for a benefit concert that following weekend for AIDS research. He was happy to be able to play on stage again, since the band wasn’t really making music that much anymore.

After ‘In Through the Out Door,’ the band had a lot of creative differences. They had decided to each venture into their own direction before coming back together to form a once more unified sound. And Jimmy wasn’t very happy to do so. He knew his sound. He had known it since he formed the band back in ‘68. But he didn’t want to upset the other members who desperately wanted to experiment and try new things. So he went with it, reluctantly.

He stood up, looking down once more at the beautiful girl in front of him, but she was lost once again inside her book. Making his way off of the train, he stepped out onto the platform and made his way to the stairs.

Anna looked up from her book, outside to see Jimmy walking across the platform toward the exit. ‘But names are nothing. What matter who it be, So that his elements have grown so fine…’ She slowly started to smile as the train once again pulled away from the station.

Anna arrived home a little after 7. She lived in a lovely little house just outside the city of Reading.

“Anna? Is that you?” She heard Paul call out to her from the study. Paul was a professor who also taught in the English department, in fact, she was his T.A. They had been somewhat seeing each other for the past year, and he had asked her to move in with him. She obliged, but she wasn’t quite sure where she saw the relationship going. Sure, she had feelings for him, but she didn’t feel connected with him. He treated her well enough, but something just didn’t feel right. Yet still, she stayed.

“I’m home.” Home. The word felt foreign on her tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time she ever really felt at home with some place or someone. She set her books down and made her way into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.

Picking up her glass, she made her way into the study to find Paul poring over a few large books. She walked over to him as he kissed her. “How’d class go today? The kids give you a hard time?” Paul asked her as she leaned against the desk.

Taking a sip of wine, she shook her head. “It was fine, but I’m sure they’d appreciate having their actual professor teach them, not some T.A.”

He grabbed her hands. “I know. It’s just I was very busy today. But I really appreciate you covering for me. You’re heaven sent. Oh, did you get the papers from them?”

Nodding, Anna set her glass down and rummaged through her bag to pull out the stack of papers, freshly graded. “I’ve graded them, they just need to be recorded in the grade-book.”

Paul kissed her on the cheek before taking the stack from her hands. “Thank you, beautiful. Do you want to order some takeout for dinner? I didn’t even realize the time, it kind of got away from me today.”

Like it does most days. Shaking her head, she took another sip of wine. “I’m actually not hungry, love. I’m going to head upstairs and settle in for the night.”

Nodding, he turned back to his desk and began to work once more.

She headed upstairs to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She made her way to the nightstand, flicking the lamp on. She then walked to the doors that led to the balcony and threw them open.

It was cool outside, the last remnants of the sun were barely visible on the horizon. But it felt good. She pulled out the pack of cigarettes hidden in her dresser drawer and placed one between her lips. She grabbed her Yeats book from her bag and sat down out on the balcony.

She never smoked. But tonight, she needed this. Lighting it, she saw her hands were shaking. She inhaled deeply and let the smoke fill her lungs before expelling it into the cool evening air. She flipped her book open to her favorite poem and began to take herself away from that house.

The guys weren’t very happy with Jim. He was late, again. “Don’t you even use that watch on your wrist?” John Paul asked him.

“Yeah, the meeting ran a little late. But basically Peter said they’re going to be recording this concert to be produced into an album. They want to use it as another fundraiser for the charity.”

Robert nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “Sounds good, mate. Let’s get to work, yeah? We’ve lost quite a bit of time. I mean, Bonzo only got here minutes before you.”

Rolling his eyes, Jimmy turned and grabbed his guitar, warming up a bit before they started to put together the set for the show.

“So I’m thinking we should open with 'Rock And Roll’, 'Cause it’ll get everyone up and moving.” Robert said. John Paul and Bonzo nodded in agreement as Jimmy continued to mess around with his guitar. They continued to add songs to the set list until it was complete.

“We have to put 'Stairway’ on there somewhere, maybe last? Yeah. Let’s end it with Jim.” Robert said, patting Jimmy on the shoulder, smiling down at him with dazzling blue eyes.

Jim looked up and returned a small smile, “Sounds good. Let’s start, yeah?”

John Paul nodded and picked up his bass as Bonzo made his way over to the drumset.

They finished rehearsal as midnight rolled around. Setting his guitar down, Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. “Great work guys. Really good.”

“Yeah, I say we pick this up again Saturday afternoon or so? We’re down to a week before the show.” John Paul said.

Robert nodded his head, hands on his hips. “Sounds good to me. Jim, Bonzo, think you guys could be on time this time?” He giggled heading into the kitchen.

“Kiss my arse, I’ll be there when I’m good and ready.” Bonzo said as John Paul started to look annoyed.

Jimmy ignored them as he began to pack his things up, getting ready to head out. Normally he’d go out tonight, hit up some friends for a night out. Drink a little too much, and drown his thoughts in booze and drugs. But tonight, he felt drained. He craved to be alone, to slink into the recluse of his mind.

“Are you guys hungry? I’m gonna order something, I’m sure some place is still open.” Jimmy heard John Paul call from the kitchen.

Standing up, he headed into the kitchen. “Actually, I’m going to head out. I’ll see you guys Saturday. Don’t worry, I’ll be on time.”

Robert looked crestfallen as Jimmy turned to head out the door. “Great work today, Jim.” He called to him. Jimmy nodded as he shut the door and headed out into the night.

Jimmy came home to a dark house, just how he always liked it. He walked into his study, flicking a desk lamp on.

Heading over to his bookshelf, he scanned it before plucking out the book he was looking for. He smiled down at the cover, a first edition copy of Yeats’ 'When You Are Old’

He settled down into a chair and flipped it open, re-familiarizing himself with the old text. He scanned the index before flipping to his favorite poem, 'All Souls Night.’

“Words were but wasted breath; One dear hope had he: The inclemency Of that or the next winter would be death.” He softly spoke the words aloud, wincing as they echoed off the walls.

Jimmy felt his thoughts drift to the girl from the train, wondering where she was at this moment, what exactly she was doing. He felt her presence at the back of his mind, and he’s unsure of whether or not he liked it that way.

He thought about how good he felt on the train with that girl. When her eyes looked into his, it had stirred something in him. Something he hadn’t felt in such a long time, he wasn’t sure he was ever capable of feeling it ever again. He felt warm, safe. Happy even? He wished he could live inside her gaze. If only for a moment or two, I’d be okay.

Placing the book to the side, he walked over to his desk, pulling out a few drawers, rummaging until he found what he was looking for.

Crushed in a small piece of plastic wrap, he picked it up along with a syringe. He headed into the kitchen for a spoon before returning to his study. Carefully, he placed a large pile of heroin into the spoon, drowning it in water and lemon juice, until it dissolved. He fished out his lighter and lit the mixture until it reached a dark brown color. Placing the syringe into his mouth, he tightly wrapped his upper arm with a tie so the veins were easily accessible. He tore off a small piece of a cotton ball, placing it inside the spoon, so it would filter the drug nicely. Jimmy slowly placed the needle into the spoon and drew up the heroin until it was full.

He began humming the melody of 'Tea For One’ “A minute feels like a lifetime Baby, when I feel this way…”

Poking the vein a few times to get the blood flowing, he slowly lowered the needle into his flesh. Sucking in air as the needle tore a hole, he carefully injected the mixture into his arm, slowly lifting the syringe out once it all entered his vein.

Removing the tie, he tossed the syringe onto the desk, staggering back into the chair. He let out a familiar sigh, as he got ready for the high to take place.

He felt the familiar chill that coursed his body as the heroin made its way throughout his system. He smiled as his head started to grow cloudy. Soon after, an amber color filled his eyes, and he felt himself engulfed in warmth just before drifting away.

*So you guessed it, it’s another LZ fanfic. I had this brain child the other night and tried my best to write it out as coherently as possible. Thanks for stopping by, and feel free to lemme know what you think!

#led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfiction #jimmy page #jimmy page fan fiction #robert plant #john paul jones #john bonham #led zeppelin fanfic #tomorrow never knows

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evilback-wards · 6 years

Text

Top Candidate [Pre-DRV3]

Chapter 11

Length: 2245

Rating: 16+ish? For gore mostly.

Prefer AO3 format? Click here. Otherwise, below the line lovelies!

Once my time had elapsed, the lights went out. When I tried to feel around me to get my bearings, two bright white cloaks grabbed me from underneath my arms. I grumbled, but complied, not wanting my distaste to spoil my chances. Being Kaito Momota wouldn’t be so bad anyway. Heck, I don’t even remember who I was before that name was shoved down my throat. I know I liked sports. I know I liked movies and television too. Maybe I was just...normal. I gave my pup Chip a kiss before heading out to school every day. I think I may have even won a trophy or two for my athleticism. But, from what I recall, nothing I ever did pegged me as worthy to be in a killing game. Or this title of Kaito Momota. Whatever, I guess.

The white cloaks continued to guide me through the darkness. My mind began to wander to my ex, Kaede. Was that really her name though or her character’s name? I’m not really sure to be honest. When we first met, about a year ago, her appearance stood out more than her name. Her eyes called me to from across the train, begging for me to talk to her. I remember squeezing my way past the crowd of people just to stand beside her. Of course, I’m no creep so I didn’t try anything too early. Our schools were nearby which meant I could easily play truant and be the bad boy. Kaede took a liking to me so quickly, too, inviting me out to places for me to relish her in constant praise. Ah; that easy life would’ve been my dream. But, now I have a few added roadblocks. Now I had to find my way out of this darkness. And then, survive the first round. Then survive the second round. And then beat out the others in the killing game. Easy, just four steps until the easy life would be granted to me.

I felt one of the cloaks press their hand against my chest. I stopped moving to comply as best I could.The sound of machinery overcame the current silence and steps. Thin lines of light began to outline a door in front of me and the white cloak personnel. Was this finally my waiting area? A rhythmic sound of beats rang out into the quiet, the thin lines of light becoming much wider.

Once there was a noticeably longer beep, the room in front of me felt almost too bright. I kept blinking, hoping my eyes would adjust sooner rather than later. The two in white shoved me forward, the door behind me closing quickly. I rubbed my eyes with my hands, struggling to make sense of the room around me. The walls had been a strange mixture of black and white, with random streaks of red where the other two colors met.

The room was as big as fifty of my school gyms combined. The room seemed to endlessly stretch forward. As I took my first step, I felt myself a weird texture underneath my feet. I took a closer look and noticed there had been a thin layer of plastic. Before I questioned the placement, I recalled what the losers ‘punishment’ had been if we lost the audition. I cracked a smile at this, beginning to feel around the floor for any openings in the plastic. I started to hear the door open and close again, over and over, but I had to push that thought out of my mind. I had to keep my ex Kaede in mind. What Kaede would like. What Kaede wouldn’t like. She was my queen in this game, and if I had to keep her as a possible resource, I needed to keep myself clean. While I had been searching for an opening to the plastic, I found out an interesting fact about this large room. There had been a total of 26 streaks. Was that the number of survivors that there would be? My fingers finally found a bit of an opening near one of the furthermost corners of the room. Most people crowded around the door we all entered from, though that’d likely be a bad move. They stood close to each other, like this was some sort of cohort we could be best buds in. Idiots. Once bodies start exploding, limbs will start flying!

I found myself a nice secluded corner with moveable plastic, making sure no one dared talked to me. What’s the point of being friends with anyone of these fuckers anyway? They’re all going to die. Well, besides those who pass the audition. I saw a few others take a similar approach to me, finding corners or secluded areas to deter others from standing too close. I kept a kneeling position next to my corner, keeping the plastic on the floor above my fingers. I needed to have easy access if the explosion were to randomly occur. I started to notice the auditioners become more antsy the more people entered the room. We must be nearing the end of the line. And, after one of the shorter versions of me entered, the door behind the guy shut tight with metal. Some idiots decided it best to start clawing it at it with their hands. I lifted the plastic from the floor a bit, preparing for my quick entry.

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for! The results for our first character, Kaito Momota,” yelled that preppy voice from before.

As the voice began to cackle over the loudspeaker, my eyes were brought to the slim bracelet wrapped around my wrist. The fit felt tight, a small slit of red where my vein was. So this is what will kill the losers, huh?

“Ten...nine...eight...like, say your final prayers now, losers~, seven…” the high pitched voice counted. If the announcer was the mastermind for this sort of event, maybe dying would be the best option. I bet she’d be some preppy girl, early teens, getting her first chance at running daddy’s illegal human trafficking organization. Maybe this is a sign of the times we live in. Or, maybe, it’s a sign of how humanity has given up on itself with such bullshit events like this. I quickly started to slide myself underneath the plastic,being careful to cover my entire body. I kept my eyes open to see through the plastic, seeing several others do the same thing. Dammit -- if they explode, there’d be a risk I’d get some of their disgusting blood on me! Well, I’ll just hope they’re not as dumb as the group near the door trying to leave.

I closed my eyes as I heard the voice countdown to 2, bracing myself for the explosions. I’d live, of course, but I’d rather not see human bodies fling across the room. I heard a variety explosions go off around me, as well as some annoying shrill yelling. And, of course, that teenage girl’s sniveling laughter. I wasn’t sure what the next test would imply. If it had anything to do with my looks, well then, I’d probably win for sure! Whatever would come, I needed to be ready to fight for my life. Once I get those riches they talked about earlier, I’d be safe from ever having to work this hard again. As the explosions continued, I felt some blood skitter above me. More and more of it came my way, idiots still alive running in circles as if they had no other way of showing their excitement. Even if they did survive by some stroke of luck or late exploding, they should’ve known to close their eyes. Hide under plastic. Stay clean and free of all the filth that failed.

I decided to give myself a bit more time underneath here, in case there would be any late exploders. And, I assumed, the preppy bitch would make another announcement for an all clear.

“Congratulations, final 25, you’ve moved onto the next audition! The second round will start promptly after the next 11 auditions. Sit tight, ok,” the girl's voice blared out again, annoying high pitched and cheeky. My eyes slowly opened to the bloodbath that occurred only seconds ago. Sure, there were only streaks of blood on the plastic above me, but there must’ve been worse once I got up.

As I pulled myself up and peeled the plastic layer off from me, my suspicions were affirmed. Body parts were flung to every other part of the room,busted pieces of heads, arms, fingers without hands, bodies without limbs, limbs without digits...awful. I’ll smile though. Just to freak out those other 24. Most of those who survived hid under the plastic, like me, while others appeared to be shivering, blood soaked. One guy in particular had been taller than me, crying as he held an disembodied arm. Poor guy. Maybe the hand he’s holding was a guy he spoke to for like, I dunno, an hour?

I looked around the room, watching as one of the red streaks manipulated itself into a door. Could this be a fictional reality or was this still the virtual world? White cloaks began to gesture us to leave, coming from the other side.

I started to walk toward the exit, careful to side step any squishy or otherwise disgusting materials. I couldn’t have trash on the ground taint me, hah, yeah! I kept my smirk plastered on my face, ensuring to look at anyone that crossed my path directly in the eye. Yeah, I gotta keep psyching them out! Then I’d win this game for sure! I kept my ears opened as I heard a variety of conversations spark.

“Hey, something’s off. The chick said 11 but they’re supposed to be 16 students total.”

“Yeah? And? I ain’t complainin’. I just wanna be one student, I don’t have time to care about where the other 3 are gonna come from.”

“Danganronpa is a traditional killing game of sixteen participants though. If we’re missing part of the cast, then this’ll all fall to pieces.”

“Dude, shut the fuck up. People literally just exploded. Fuck off…”

The variety of comments felt human, or at least something resembling how most people would react. Twenty-four other high school students managed to pass along with me. How else could I psych them out? I needed to stay alive to keep the easy life dream alive. No matter what.

As I crossed the threshold to the other side, the room style completely changed. The walls were now black, furniture matching the color to a tee. Besides the other Kaito’s exiting with me, I noticed a familiar smiling blonde cunt. I gave her a warm smile, running up to her. I opened my arms wide, preparing to pick her up bridal style. This was like a movie ending, or rather, the build up exposition for my character.

“A-Ah, Kaito! I’m glad you survived,” Kaede said, a grin on her face too. I could feel the other Kaito’s eyes the back of my head. Good; feel all those terrible emotions. Get too distracted to act your part. I made my grin as wide as I could make it.

When I got close to Kaede, she put her hand out in front of her body like a stop sign.

“What?” I asked, gesturing toward my pristine body. Sure, my feet were a little bloody, but, I was mostly unscathed as I shouted for everyone to hear, “Don’t want a hug from your perfect boyfriend? Oh, I’m sorry, ex boyfriend!”

“I...I want something more,” Kaede mumbled, looking down with a scarlet blush across her cheek. Ah yeah, this day just keeps getting better! I kept my grin, hell, I’d make it wider if I could, as I smooched my ex. Her lips felt like fire against my mine, pressing through with her tongue...mmm…

After a few minutes of satisfying tongue kissing, I took a look over her shoulder. I saw a weirdly dressed boy with one hair sticking up from his head. His eyes were aimed toward the ground, looking as if he had been loneliness incarnate.

“So, you got another new boyfriend? Man, it’s getting hard to keep up Kaede,” I said, though half-jokingly. This guy was dead if he was even on a huggable basis.

“No, and my old one was a piece of shit. He’s actually one of the main ones running this shitshow,” Kaede replied, crossing her arms as she had a pouty look on her face. You know, despite the killing and all, she still looked pretty cute!

I took a seat next to Kaede, sitting on a plush chair.

“When’s your audition,” I asked.

“Me and Shuichi got passes for the 1st round. So we’re just killing time like you now,” Kaede said, seeming passive as her head leaned against me. I stayed quiet as I ran my hand through her hair. I wonder what type of connections that new friend of hers has to get her pass the first round. I needed to play nice if I wanted to share some of those benefits!

I guess I should play nice until the 2nd room, and hopefully, I was already sitting with 2 of the 12 killing game members. I took another glance over at the Shuichi kid, still not acknowledging my presence. Huh, well, I’ll definitely change that during the killing game!

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