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[petaldancing]

fic: spring will come

fandom: hyouka characters: chitanda eru, ensemble cast summary: She only has till next spring to decide what she wants to do after graduation. And so, Eru Chitanda tries. (Spoilers for 'Even Though I'm Told I Now Have Wings') notes: my contribution to the It’s Already Spring hyouka zine, in celebration of this series that means a lot to me~   read: on AO3

[mayakyaa]

It’s Already Spring is a hyouka fanzine celebrating the novel by Honobu Yonezawa & anime directed by Yasuhiro Takemoto. Featuring seasonal & post-canon art/fic, the zine celebrates the anime’s 10th anniversary! Free download at http://hyoukazine.carrd.co HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TO HYOUKA! Released 22 April 2012 (Kyoto Animation) directed by Yasuhiro Takemoto, adapted from the novels by Honobu Yonezawa.  We also want to honour and remember the lives and the work of the staff of KyoAni who we lost in July 2019’s arson attack, some of which were involved in the making of Hyouka, including: 武本康弘 Yasuhiro Takemoto (Director), 西屋太志 Futoshi Nishiya (Character Design),  木上 益治 Yoshiji Kigami (Storyboard, Episode Director, Key Animation), 宇田 淳一 Jun'ichi Uda (Key Animation, In-between Animation), 横田 圭佑 Keisuke Yokota (Production Manager), 石田 奈央美 Naomi Ishida (Color Design) & 明見 裕子 Yuko Myouken (Key Animation). The anime they’ve breathed life into continue to inspire us, make us laugh, make us cry, and move us deeply… we hope that this can be a way of remembering and honoring them. And so, we made a zine to celebrate the anime’s 10th anniversary!

[mayakyaa]

HYOUKA FANZINE ⬦ It’s Already Spring is a new hyouka fanzine celebrating the novel by Honobu Yonezawa & anime directed by Yasuhiro Takemoto. Featuring seasonal & post-canon art/fic, the zine releases free on 22 Apr, the anime’s 10th anniversary. Find out more details (and previews!) on twitter (@itsalreadysprng) or here: https://hyoukazine.carrd.co/ 

[petaldancing]

HI FRIENDS! popping over here to share what we’ve been working on for the last 1 year, for any and every hyouka fan who is craving a bunch of fresh, new and lovely content, do check out our zine ♡

[petaldancing]

The Journey Continues - a Pokespe Charity Zine

*pops in* hello! hello! those who’ve been with me for long know that Pokespe was one the very first fandoms I wrote for, under the name of ibuberu on ff.net. I’m here to share that I’ve contributed something very special (pun unintended hee) and close to my heart for @poke-special-zine​!  title: Limitless Blue characters: Ruby, Sapphire (and Emerald!) summary: Maybe things won't always stay the same. Maybe one day, we'll grow up... Maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. For those who love RuSa as much as I do (why are we still here? god). Who find themselves circling back or thinking fondly of the stories of our growing / formative years, accepting them even with all their imperfections and flaws. Those feeling uncertain about the future, about leaving a place you might never go back to. For those who still love the same old characters, despite time passing — because of time passing. This fic was written for readers like you, and me. I hope it’ll be worth the read. Check out @poke-special-zine for previews and pre-order the zine here before 6th March 2021!

[petaldancing]

fic: we’ll go down fighting

fandom: hyouka  characters: houtarou, eru, satoshi, mayaka summary: The Kamiyama Classic Literature Club attempts to defend their WILDFIRE title in their second year of highschool! Or: the time Satoshi forgets his plan, Houtarou learns how to make curry from scratch, Mayaka nearly chokes to death, and Chitanda has a secret. read: on AO3

[petaldancing]

a couple of new pieces to share for christmas this year! stay tuned

[petaldancing]

hi! just poking my head in here to say that fic has taken a backseat given what 2020 has been but i’m still doing my thing on twitter (@petaldancing) and on the lil hyouka discord server i run (msg me for a link) !! i hope to write small little things and share here again in the new year 🌻

[petaldancing]

fic: satoshi’s moving castle

fandom: hyouka characters: mayaka, satoshi summary: Before anything else, Mayaka feels the wind touch her cheeks, and a gloved hand on her shoulder.—Howl's Moving Castle AU read: on AO3 

[mayakyaa]

it’s already spring 🌸 a hyouka discord community we’re a feminist-friendly, slow-paced and chill hyouka discord server and we’ve just announced our community events for the year! if you’d like to join our events (where we write fic, draw art, and make playlists etc) or meet fellow hyouka aficionados and talk about this wonderful series, please feel free to step into our lil nook of the internet right here: https://discord.gg/QbzuSD9 (just note, you need to be 18 y/o and above to join!)  thanks and we hope to see you there 🌸

[petaldancing]

fic: this’ll do for now

fandom: spy x family characters: anya, loid and yor summary: Four times Anya receives a toy, and one time she asks for something else. 4k words. read: on AO3 or below

notes: written for yuletide 2019 for penguinzero! i was inspired by a fan observation that Anya has quite a number of toys that appear throughout the different chapters (from a post by batneko on tumblr!) the toys referenced here all appear in the manga, but there are only overt references made to Chapter 8.5 (Extra Mission!) if you're wary of spoilers.

-----

1. 

“What are you doing, Anya?”

Papa’s using that tone again, the one where he’s trying to understand what she’s thinking. Too bad he’s not a mind reader. Heh.

Anya lets go of his hand to run up to the storefront and press her face to the wide window. Her gaze is fixed on the toys splayed across the polished shelves. There are puppets, and porcelain dolls, and even toy cars, but she won’t be distracted. She points a decisive finger to the glass and shouts: “I want that!”

Her chosen subject is a round, yellow chicken-looking doll that’s half-hidden behind a big teddy bear. It’s ugly and she already loves it.

Papa stands next to her and leans forward to get a better look at it. “You already have a doll, don’t you? Why would you need another one?” This question is accompanied by a clear and crisp thought, ‘What did those parenting books say? If you give into your children’s demands easily, they may come to disregard your authority and lose respect.’

“I respect you, Papa," Anya responds immediately, nodding so as to reassure him. “If you buy me that toy, I’ll respect you even more and listen to what you say.”

Papa raises an eyebrow, not in surprise, but in doubt.

Anya's finger remains glued to the window even though her feet are starting to hurt from tip toeing to peek through the storefront. She's determined to make a good case for ownership of the ugly chicken: "I need it to protect me when I get scared at night. It looks tough, it’ll be able to fight off any assa- assassi...”

“Assassins?” Papa corrects her. “You’ve been watching too much of your spy cartoon. People like assassins and hitmen don’t exist. You don’t have anything to be worried about.”

Papa’s being a bad liar again.

Before Anya can tell him he’s wrong, she notices him reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet and her eyes widen with hope.

“I suppose I could get it for you. You’ve been working hard to prepare for the academy’s entrance exams, after all,” he explains as he enters the toy store, the old wooden door creaking.

While Papa pays at the counter, Anya bounces over to Chicky (yes, she’s just given it a name) and pulls it into her arms, snuggling into the sweet-smelling fabric of its body. She starts to sing the Bondman theme song, already imagining the life-threatening missions she’ll have with Chicky as her sidekick.

As they walk out the store and down the street leading back home, Anya’s singing fades into the sound of the city bustling around them. She picks up the worry in Papa’s thoughts and goes quiet to listen.

‘I mustn’t make this a habit. If Anya keeps getting what she wants, she’ll end up taking these things for granted.’ It is sharp and pointed and makes her flinch.  

Anya stops just then, standing in the middle of the sidewalk. It's late in the day and there aren't many people walking about, but those that do walk pass look between her and Papa with curiosity and concern.

"What is it now, Anya?"

She hugs Chicky close to herself. It’s all soft and smooth and new, and smells like fresh flowers. She doesn’t remember having anything like this in the orphanage. It makes her happy yet lonely.

“This is Papa’s first gift for me. I’ll always treasure it!”

She waits, and when Papa doesn't say anything, she screws her eyes shut and tries to hear the words inside his brain.

Nothing—it's blank for once.

When she opens her eyes, she sees that he's stretched out his empty hand to her.

“Alright, Anya. Come now, Yor is probably waiting for us to have dinner,” he says as she takes his hand. They resume their journey down the familiar street, passing the baker’s and the tailor’s and the post office, all the places she's come to recognise as part of her new home.

As they cross the road and catch the orange sun setting behind the town hall, she hears Papa’s thoughts stir. Faintly , she catches his mind echoing: ‘Mustn’t make this a habit.’

It is a warm and soft thing now, like the feeling of her hand curled in his.

2.

Anya doesn’t remember what happened. Now, she’s crying and crying in the middle of the living room as Chimera droops in her hands, the beans inside it spilling out onto the floor around her. She’d been playing spy and villain with Chimera (she was obviously playing the part of the world’s Top Spy) and spun her around and now there was a torn hole in her side!  

“Anya has blood on her hands now,” she hisses through hot tears, remembering that this is what the person on TV said in a similar situation.

Mama runs over from the balcony where she was hanging out the clothes to dry. “Anya, you’re not hurt are you?” She squats down to put a gentle hand against Anya’s wet cheek.

"I want a new Chimera!" Anya wails, letting go of the toy to bury her face into Mama’s blouse and rub her snot against her. Chimera is old and tattered from getting thrown around by other kids in the orphanage, but it was also there, buried under a pile of trash, that Anya found her. She knows Chimera is special, that she can’t just go to the toy store and buy a new one, but what else is she going to do now?

As Mama wraps her arms around her and pats her head, Anya begins to calm down. Her tears subside into controlled sniffs.

"Now, now, Anya. There's no need for a new friend. We just need to mend her and she'll be as good as new,” Mama says as she stands, hoisting Anya into her arms.

Anya rubs her puffy eyes. "You can fix her?"

“Of course! Needlework is something I can proudly say I’m an expert at.” Mama smiles. ‘I have a lot of experience stitching myself up. Stitching a doll shouldn’t be much different. Perhaps it’ll be easier.’

Anya thinks that Mama can be just as cool as Papa sometimes.

And so, they carefully pick up Chimera’s insides from the floor and collect them in a rice bowl. When this is done, Mama goes into her room looking for needles and thread. As Anya sits on the sofa, she can hear Mama rummaging through her weapons in her closet, and through the wall, her thoughts: ‘Needles… needles… Ah, there we go. Have I sterilised these yet? I’ll just make sure Anya doesn’t touch them, just in case.’

Anya does not offer to help Mama when she comes back out, holding a short needle in her hand along with a spool of thread, and a bag of cotton wool.

Mama takes the rice bowl and what’s left of Chimera to the dining table, where she sits and begins work. Anya hovers next to her and watches as she threads the needle with skill and quickly sows up the huge hole. When the hole becomes a small tear, she pours the beads back into Chimera’s body with Anya’s help. Anya holds onto Chimera while Mama does the finishing touches, including stuffing her with more cotton wool so that she stands taller now.

“Tadah!” Mama grins when the operation is over. “She’s as good as new now.”

Anya receives Chimera with a big hug. “Thank you Mama!”

“Chimera is one of a kind, so we’ll take good care of her. If she gets hurt again, just bring her to me and I’ll fix her up,” Mama says as she packs up her first aid kit for dolls. “And Anya, don’t think about throwing away things even if they may be a bit broken. Sometimes, all they need is a little love.”

‘This is what Loid would do, right? Try to make life lessons out of everyday incidents,’ Mama’s thought bubbles in the air.    

Anya blinks twice before asking: “Are you trying to teach me good values like Papa?”

“Ah…. you'r always so sharp,” Mama concedes with a laugh. At this moment, the front door opens and in steps Papa, holding that briefcase he carries just for show.  

“What’s all this? I heard Anya talking about me,” he asks as he closes the door behind him and removes his hat.

“Chimera had a little accident, but I’ve fixed her and even added a little extra stuffing.” Mama holds up the needle and cotton to show him.  

“Ah,” Papa hums. ‘Hm. The cotton she’s using it’s the sort that’s particularly good at absorbing blood. Do they sell this high quality stuff at the pharmacy now?’  

“What is it, Loid?”

A practiced smile appears on Papa’s face. “I was thinking how great it is that you could help solve Anya’s problem.”

“Yes, I want to be someone Anya can rely on too, you know.” Mama pulls at her fingers nervously. “I’m always worried about whether I’m playing my part well enough.”

Before Papa can open his mouth, Anya interrupts by holding Chimera up to her face and cheering in a squeaky voice: “Mama is strong and fast and good with needles! I feel safe when she’s around!”

“There you have it.” The corner of Papa’s lips crooks up slightly.

“There you have it,” Mama repeats, and her hands, which she’d been gripping tightly, loosen just so.

3.

For some reason, there are always bad guys to fight whenever Anya goes out with Mama and Papa. Today, they went to the aquarium and stopped a villain from stealing an important penguin. Even on day-offs, Papa has to work.

Then again, bringing her out to the aquarium to look at fishies and talk to the neighbours—that’s work too, isn’t it? It’s his job to make sure they’re an ordinary family, so even Sundays are work days. Mama and her had lots of fun today watching the dolphin show and petting the stingrays and looking how sharp and pointy the shark’s teeth were (Mama really liked that), but all Anya could hear was Papa thinking about his next mission.

It’s the end of the day now, and she should be in bed, but Anya wriggles out from under her covers and pokes her head out of her room. The hallway is really dark and only from the far, far end, can she see a small crack of light coming from underneath Papa’s door. She decides to bring new recruit Penguin along with her, just in case she gets ambushed.

She tries to stealthily creep up to Papa’s door, but it’s a bit hard since Penguin is much less graceful. Before she can even peek into Papa’s room, he notices.

“Anya? It’s always polite to knock before entering someone’s room.”

She puffs up her cheeks and does as she’s told.

“Yes, come in.”

She pushes the door open and steps into Papa’s room, tugging Penguin in behind her. It’s a very normal-looking room. She frowns at this. Where are all the fancy spy gadgets? He must have hidden them somewhere.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Papa puts his book aside and straightens his posture in his armchair, resting a hand on his knee.

“No… I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking.” Anya twiddles her thumbs. “Papa, are you tired from work?”

“What are you talking about? I had a day off today with you and Yor, didn’t I?” he says with hesitation.

“Well, you were tired from work and you still said to go out with us,” Anya tries a different approach.

Papa thinks, ‘Which was also part of Operation Strix to begin with, and ended up crossing with another mission. Work never does end,’ but says, “Which was a good way for me to take a break from work.”

Anya sways on the spot, trying to process the same voice speaking two different things.

“You don’t need to be worried about me, Anya. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.” Papa stands up and opens his room door, gesturing for her to follow him back to her room. She pulls Penguin along as they walk back, and the distance feels much shorter now with Papa now walking beside her.

“Would… would you quit your job if it gets too tiring?” Anya finally works up the courage to ask as he lifts her back into bed and tucks her in. Penguin gets the same treatment shortly after.

“You know, Anya, just because something is tiring doesn’t mean it isn’t worth doing,” Papa answers. He’s sitting on the edge of her bed, chin tucked and eyes looking down. ‘I chose to do this. I’ll see it through till the end, so good people like Yor and Anya can live in a peaceful society. As for what happens after...’

Papa suddenly turns to look at her. “Is this about your homework? You need to stop lazing around or you’ll get another Tonitrus. I’ll help you with it tomorrow.”

Anya nods slowly, feeling better to know that Papa will be around, at least, until he completes his mission. “I’ll do my best, Papa. Just like you.”

Instead of thinking about how lonely it’ll be when Papa finally completes his mission, Anya focuses on how cool he is.

He stays with her, not saying anything else, until she finally drifts off to sleep.

4.

“Anya, are you getting tired?”

Mama extends an open hand down, offering to take the shopping bag Anya is dragging against the pavement. They’ve just finished a shopping trips at the market and Anya had volunteered to help carry some of the groceries home. Mainly a big bag of peanuts. Mama’s getting better at buying stuff now. She’s been observing what Papa cooks for dinner and memorising how the packaging looks like.

“My feet and arms are tired,” Anya says, her knees wobbling a bit. The sun is especially hot today.

“It must be from all the punching training we did today, huh?” Mama remarks cheerfully. She points to a bus stop up ahead where a couple of people are standing. “Let’s take a bus back home then.”

As they walk under the shelter hand-in-hand, Anya thinks back to their training session this morning. Mama’s trying to teach her how to block punches and dodge attacks now. She could only do it for fifteen minutes and had to take a nap after that, only to wake up just in time to accompany Mama out.

Anya stares at her hands and makes them shake for dramatic effect. “Am I a weakling, Mama?”

“Of course not!” Mama pauses to think. ‘Though I don’t remember it being so difficult to learn self defense when I was her age. Maybe it’s because I had to pick it up under different circumstances.’

“But I’m not getting stronger,” Anya mumbles.

“You’re getting good scores for your tests and quizzes, aren’t you? It’s not just about brute strength. Being smart is a strength too.”

Well, that’s because she’s figured out which students in class are good at what subjects. And because Papa’s new rule is that she can only watch TV after she does a bit of studying on weekends.

Mama raises an arm to flag the approaching bus. As it rumbles to a halt at the bus stop, Anya catches the colourful advertisement painted on the side. It’s for a new toy that she’s never seen before. A robot! And it looks exactly like the ones that appear in Bondman.

“Look! Look at that!” She grabs a fistful of Mama’s skirt to get her attention.

Mama tilts her head to the side, staring at it as they line up to board the bus. “Do you want that toy?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do to get it?” Anya asks as she hops onto the metal steps of the bus door and rushes to get a seat next to the bus window. She’s learned, from when she used to be stuck in the lab, how she always got a reward for doing something the grown-ups wanted. The outside world didn’t seem that much different from the lab in some way.

Mama sits down next to her after paying for the bus fare. “What do you mean, Anya?”

“Can I get Mr Robot if I get a Stella?”

‘Wouldn’t that be a long ways off?’ Mama doesn’t say this aloud, but Anya narrows her eyes and frowns when she hears this complete lack of belief.

Mama doesn’t notice. She adjusts the groceries in her lap and cranes her neck to look out the window, checking where they are on the bus route. “Well, we could get off near the toy store now and see if they have Mr Robot there already.”

Anya opens her mouth in surprise. “But I didn’t do anything to get it!”

“Well, I don’t think I need a reason to make you happy,” Mama answers simply, a kind smile touching her lips.

"R-really?" Anya asks again, just to make sure.

Mama pauses and think: ‘Loid might nag at me for spoiling Anya. But if it’s something that can cheer her up, I’m sure he’ll understand. She's been less energetic these days, and he's noticed too.’

"Your Papa likes to give you rewards for working hard, but I don't want you to feel as though you need to do something in order to get what you want. Or do something just because you think that's what someone else wants." At this, Mama's expression shifts. She continues to look outside, but her eyes seem far off, like she's thinking about deeply about something. But just like that one time with Papa, Anya can't read anything from her mind. It's a quiet stillness. All Anya can hear are the thoughts of the old granny at the back of the bus, worrying about whether she left the stove on.

It's after two zebra crossings and one traffic light before Mama turns to her. "I want you to be able to be who you are,  not what others want you to be," she whispers as she brushes Anya's hair back, taking care to avoid her horns. And when Anya works up the courage to listen out for Mama's thoughts, she hears her say: 'I didn't have that choice, but at least, this is a role that I've grown to like more than I thought I would.'

“Mama… I think having a good heart is a strength too. Maybe that’s what I should try to be good at,” Anya says in soft realisation.

Mama gives her a smile just then, and she looks radiant under the rays of the sun shining into the bus.

“You’re absolutely right.”

5.

"Chimera, Chicky, Penguin and Mr Robot all reporting for duty!"

Anya throws them all onto her bed and salutes them. Outside, the evening rain is falling hard and the only thing she can see from her window are the raindrops splattering against it.

"Listen up agents, we're up against a diabo.. diablo.. diabolic enemy today. It's—"

A flash of lightning suddenly appears in the window, followed by a deafening crash of thunder that rocks the air. Anya dives under her covers with a loud yelp. The movement causes Chimera to roll off the bed. Anya is too busy shivering under her blanket to pick her up.

She hears the door of her room slam open, and two pairs of footsteps rushing in. When she pokes her head out from beneath her hiding spot, Papa and Mama are standing next to her bed. Mama’s hands are crossed behind her back and her eyebrows her knotted in concern. Papa scans the room with a quick snap of his head.

“Are you okay, Anya? It sounded like…” Papa begins. ‘No, I was overreacting. Anya is safe. Probably just scared from the thunder.’  

“Like something bad happened,” Mama completes his sentence. ‘Oh thank goodness, now I just need to keep my knives without Loid or Anya noticing.’ Her arms remain glued to her sides, twitching slightly as she tries to adjust the hidden weapons behind her nightgown.

Anya pulls the blanket off her head and raises an accusing finger to the window. “Yes! It’s that!” She casts a glance at all her toys on the bed and clears her throat to say, “They’re all… they’re all scared.”

“They’re scared?” Papa asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, they’re not used to dangerous situations.” Anya folds her arms across herself and nods sagely.

“Well, then they could come and stay with me for the night,” Mama offers, which makes Anya’s eyes widen. Her mouth gapes as she thinks of what to say next, without making it obvious that she’d be jealous if Penguin got to sleep next to Mama instead of her.

Another lightning strike appears in the window and Anya’s shout is one second faster than the ensuing thunder. Her body immediately jumps off the bed and flies into Papa and Mama, hugging them around their knees.

"I'm scared,” Anya reluctantly admits, her cheeks squished between their legs.

“Rain and thunder and lightning are all normal, torrential weather conditions, Anya,” Papa explains. “You’ll be safe as long as you stay indoors, I promise.” As he pauses, he thinks, ‘I definitely won’t let her go out on her own in such weather. Even if she doesn’t get struck by lightning, there’s a high chance a tree could and if that were to fall on Anya...’

“I don’t want to be shocked or squished!!” Anya wails out and clutches onto them even tighter.

“That won’t ever happen,” Mama says in a calming voice. ‘I’d redirect that lightning strike in a jiffy. It shouldn’t be too hard.’

As awesome as that sounds, Anya jumps as she hears another boom of thunder outside and she continues crying. “But I’m scared!”

“Okay, okay. What can we do to make you less scared?” Papa lowers himself onto his knees and holds out his handkerchief for Anya to blow her nose into.

As soon as she's done wiping her face against the cloth, she comes up with a great idea. She raises her eyes to look at both of them. “I want Papa and Mama to stay with me tonight."

It’s Papa and Mama’s turn to widen their eyes. They exchange shocked looks with each other.

“Wouldn’t it be alright if it was just me?” Mama points at herself.

Anya holds her right palm up to Mama’s face. “No.”

“Alright, Yor. You can head to bed. I’ll stay with Anya,” Papa sighs.

Anya holds up her left palm up to Papa’s face. “No.”

While their faces balk with insult and confusion, Anya stands up on her bed and claps her hands together. “I won’t be able to go to sleep without both Mama and Papa!” she declares.

‘The last time I slept next to someone was with Yuri when we were still children. I miss those times,’ Mama thinks fondly. ‘Oh, but Loid is different from Yuri, he’s…’ Her face goes a little red.

‘This is still part of Operation Strix, isn’t it? Keeping Anya happy and safe so that she’ll continue to do well in school. Come on, Twilight. It’s not a difficult request. Yor is...’  

Anya pats the empty space on both sides of her bed, looking at both Mama and Papa expectantly. Mama steps forward first, even as Papa raises a hand to stop her.

“I’m fine, Loid. To tell you the truth, I’ve always found it comforting to sleep with family. I’m sure that’s all Anya needs right now.” Mama uses her hands to flatten the material of her nightgown before lying down next to Anya. Anya doesn’t know where Mama's weapons have disappeared to. She tries not to think so much about it.

‘Comforting?’ Papa thinks. ‘Twilight never experienced anything like that growing up.'

Anya stares at him, and her shoulders begin to droop when he doesn't move.

Sometimes, Papa is too cool.

She turns away from him to lie on her side and close her eyes.

'But... Loid Forger must know what that’s like. He's supposed to be the perfect family man. He is.'

The next moment, Anya feels the mattress sink as Papa sits down on the bed. He doesn't relax quite as much as Mama, but allows his back to lean into one of Anya’s fluffy pillows.

When the next thunderclap rolls around, Anya hunches into Papa’s side and feels Mama’s hand soothing her back. She breathes in the smell of Papa’s shampoo and Mama’s handsoap. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is a soft song humming in her ear. It makes the thunder seem like a small noise in comparison.

----

When Anya wakes up the next day, she knows that she is safe, like she's been wrapped up warm and toasty and no one can hurt her ever again. She cracks her eyes open to see Mama and Papa's arms curled over her, barely touching.

‘This’ll do for now,’ she thinks before falling back asleep.

[petaldancing]

fic: getting there’s the tough part

fandom: hyouka characters: mayaka, houtarou (background satomaya & houtaeru) summary:  Mayaka and Houtarou try to make a manga AKA the triumphant return of Kaburaya Middle School’s Best Couple. read: on AO3

[mayakyaa]

hi!!! i just wanted you to know “oh suzume” is one of my absolute favorite fanfics of all time! i was re-reading it the other day and i swear it gets me every time. if you don’t mind me asking, what was your story writing process for it? it was so brilliantly done!

thank you !!! link to the fic here if anyone wants to read hyouka pacific rim AU *cries a lot* it was written so so long ago though, but from what i can remember, it was:1) laughcrying with friends about pacific rim AUs -> what if hyouka AU just for laughs even though sci-fi setting is so far removed from hyouka’s slice of life -> BUT what if mayaka and houtarou were forced to be drift compatible co-pilots? -> just kidding… unless? 2) actual writing: i definitely started with the big character scenes first, which include mayaka and satoshi’s conversations in the middle of the fic, and mayaka and houtarou’s big fight w the kaiju — and from there i built the character’s individual paths and the setting around it — for there to be tension btwn satoshi and mayaka, satoshi can’t be a pilot (and it fits his characte), so he’s a LOCCENT officer? and writing backwards from thati love writing mayaka/houtarou interactions, so thinking of fun exchanges they could have also helped me to pace out the fic, by tying a mayaka/houtarou interaction with something to move the plot forwardchitanda’s character “arc” in the fic slowly formed itself after i’d had an idea of how i wanted to go with mayaka and satoshi, in quite a natural way as i figured that she wouldn’t be able to follow the same path as theirs the last scene i wrote was likely the scene on the ship near the end of the fic as that was when i could wrap up each character’s arc and show how they’ve changed/grownso i didn’t write it in a linear way, as each character’s arc slowly became clear to me, i went back and forth to different parts to tweak it so it would make more sense for the character (and added lots of inbetween scenes that i never intended to, but made sense to allow the characters the space to grow/transition - e.g. chitanda and mayaka talking in the jaeger bay)but really, the base of most of my fics are “what interesting thing would A character say to B character, and how can I make that into a fic?” 

[petaldancing]

fic: your choice, and mine

fandom: fire emblem three houses characters: caspar, petra summary: caspar has always seen the world divided into two: the ones he’s supposed to fight, and the ones he’s supposed to protect. — AU where caspar joins the blue lions and petra stays with the black eagles. read: on AO3 or below

notes: Takes place post-timeskip but nothing directly spoilery?

Based off Caspar and Petra’s support (which made me hurt) and assumes that they never had their A-support chat because in-game, it only happens post-timeskip. So, spoilers for their A-support if you’ve not read it!

----

He hears Petra before anything else.

And it’s not her voice. It is the beating of a wyvern’s mighty wings, the high-pitched clash of iron and steel, frantic shouting. Their troops are falling back in a scramble and Caspar is nearly knocked over a few times from the wave of Kingdom soldiers pushing past him. He rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath. He must wade through a river of unmoving horses and soldiers before the shape of her is outlined in the rain.

“Flank them and take out the other wyverns. Leave the general to me.” Caspar doesn’t look back to his battalion. He knows if he takes his eyes off her, he’ll be giving her an easy opening. And this reunion is going to be anything but easy.

“Petra!” he calls out. He hasn’t said her name in so long, he’s almost happy, almost forgetting the circumstances they’re tangled up in. But Petra, focused as ever, does not flinch. In one quick motion, her wyvern lunges at him. Caspar’s axe deflects the blade of hers just inches from his shoulder. She immediately raises it once more in one swift motion to go for the other shoulder, and Caspar catches it in with his silver gauntlets just barely. He didn’t think the maneuver would work and had been prepared to lose a hand. Only up close does he realise that Petra’s axe has dulled after scraping through so much armour in the battle. It’s more luck than skill that saved his neck. Undiscouraged, he doesn’t let go of the weapon. In fact, he tries to pull it towards him, and Petra is almost yanked off her mount, her wyvern shrieking. She locks her narrowed eyes with his, and Caspar feels his grip slip under the pressure of her gaze.

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in five long years.

Petra’s piercing glare softens for a split second as she wrests her axe back.

“Caspar.”

“Uh… hi, Petra.” His voice cracks.

“I did not recognise you. You have grown bigger. And you are stronger.”

“I… I guess so—!” he grunts as he rams his entire body into the lithe body of the wyvern in an attempt to throw Petra off her saddle. Petra recovers easily, like she’s just been tapped on the shoulder instead of being bulldozed by all his might.

“What?!” Caspar reminds himself not to be awestruck. He should have expected Petra to be this good. She always was, even when they’d been students and trained together, always dodging his right hooks and haphazard swings like it’d been nothing. She was supposed to teach him how to do that, but then things got awkward between them because of his father (alive) and hers (dead), and Caspar never found chance to talk to her properly. He made it up to her by watching her back during missions, leaving the last bit of pie on the dining table for her: stuff that didn’t need them to talk. He’d been okay with that because he always thought he’d have the time to come up with the right thing to say—then Edelgard declared war on the church.

And as he watched the Empire soldiers trample across peaceful monastery grounds, Caspar made his choice.

Petra’s wyvern lands in front of him in one heavy motion crunching bones and metal beneath it. Petra stands atop the dragon’s back, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, hair dripping with rain. “I will not be giving ease to you, Caspar. I fight for Brigid and the Empire!”

Caspar furrows his brow at this and shouts: “I fight for justice! For what’s right!”

Petra’s reply is a calculated axe throw that catches Caspar at an odd angle. The moment he lurches back to avoid it, he knows Petra’s got him in a bad spot. She brandishes a bow out from the red quiver on her back and lets loose an arrow that digs into his thigh. Caspar locks his knees to stop himself from crumpling. He bites his tongue through the pain and charges forward, tearing his axe through the wyvern’s right wing and immediately into its hind leg before it can react. As the wyvern screeches and tries to claw at him, he rolls underneath the beast, splashing into a puddle of rainwater and blood. It buys him just barely enough time to snap the arrow off his leg and catch his breath.

The next instant, the wyvern’s tail slams into his side and throws him onto the ground a few feet away, his axe sliding out of his grip and into the mud. Caspar curses as he props himself onto his good leg and faces Petra. She lets another arrow fly, but Caspar is ready, leaping out of the way and towards the direction of his axe. He picks it up and advances towards Petra once more, blinking the rain out of his eyes. Another arrow whistles through the air, and it ricochets off Caspar’s gauntlets.

Something’s not right. The only person in class who had better aim than Petra was Bernadetta. Caspar knows he’s strong, but he also knows he’s not fast enough, that in a match with Petra, she should’ve gotten an arrow in his chest by now. He should be dead by now. More than irritated, he’s confused. He couldn’t sleep yesterday because he’d dreaded this face-off, and Petra—Petra was lying. She was going easy on him for some reason.

“Petra!” Caspar yells. “You hate me, right?”

Petra presses her lips into a thin line and doesn’t give him a reply. She chooses to jump off her injured wyvern, and unsheathe a silver sword from her side. Unlike the soldiers around them, her armour is pristine and unmarked. She shifts into a familiar sword-fighting stance, one that Jeralt taught them: a defensive posture.

“My father killed yours.” Caspar urges her on, even as he feels his palms grow sweaty inside his gauntlets. “You’ve… you’ve been waiting for this day, haven’t you?”

Petra remains silent, watching his movements carefully. They’re circling one another, stepping over shattered weapons and bodies of troops whose crests have been covered by dust and muck. He can’t tell who’s from the Empire and who’s from the Kingdom now.

He’s always seen the world divided into two: the ones he’s supposed to fight, and the ones he’s supposed to protect. But the past years have muddled with his brain and now, he’s facing one of the people he’s never wanted to hurt. And yet, he knows his very existence must be an eyesore for Petra.

“Just do it already!” he yells, heart racing. “Stop making this harder than it should be!” He breaks into a mad dash towards her, ignoring the pain that shoots up his leg. Petra’s sword sings into a clumsy, wide arc and Caspar leaps to avoid it, lifting his axe as he breaks through her defenses.

He’s so close to her now he can see the colourful beads around her neck, the small braids in her hair. It’s different from how she used to dress, and it’s the closest they’ve been in ages. He hesitates before he realises it, and that split second is enough for Petra to raise her sword to meet his axe. They lock their weapons, and it becomes a battle of strength.

“Come on!” Caspar shouts even though their faces are only inches apart. “Just say you hate me!”

Petra manages to hold her sword up, even as her ankles dig deeper into the mud. “I do not hate you, Caspar. Not even now. It hurts my heart to do this.”

“Don’t—! Don’t say that right now!” Caspar shakes his head furiously and tenses his muscles. “Please, it’s easier if you hate me. Then all of this would make sense.”

“It is not making the sense. My heart has not been making the sense at all. I know I should be killing you, I must be killing you.” Petra continues to hold her sword up against his axe, straining but refusing to budge.

Caspar knew it was going to hurt, he just didn’t expect it to hurt this much. Before he can react, a loud, strangled cry breaks through the rain.

It’s Hubert’s voice.

Caspar recognises it. But he has never heard Hubert so emotional, so discomposed. It is followed by an Empire soldier’s hoarse, sobbing yell through the din of battle.

“The emperor has fallen!”

The last words the professor said before the battle began rise above the noise of Caspar’s thoughts: “Leave Edelgard to Dimitri and me.”

At this, sharp panic flashes across Petra’s eyes and she glances away for a moment. Caspar sees his chance. He lowers his axe and sweeps his good leg underneath her to knock her off balance. Without pausing, he throws a punch into her chest plate, hard enough to create a dent in the Empire’s crest. The force of the punch causes Petra to skid across the hard ground, sword clattering out of her hands and quiver breaking off her shoulder. In the background, he finally registers that his battalion has taken out most of the Empire's wyverns riders, but barely half of them are left alive. The skirmishes around them are standing down, waiting for the next order.

Caspar is shaking as he stands over Petra, axe nearly slipping out of his grip. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” he asks.

She sits up on her elbows. There is blood on her face and in her teeth, but Petra still manages to look dignified and poised. “Because... more than wanting to kill you, I am wanting to see you live.”

Caspar’s chest tightens. After all this time, he still hasn’t figured out what to say to her inevitable hatred, and now—to her gentle love.

They’re interrupted by another soldier’s voice: “King Dimitri orders all remaining Empire troops to be eliminated! Let none of them get away!” This one’s on their side. But why are there still sides? Haven’t they already won with Edelgard’s defeat?

As the Empire’s soldiers begin to retreat behind them and the Kingdom’s forces give chase, Petra does not get up to run. She watches them go, and lets one of the soldiers take her beat up wyvern in an attempt to escape.

She stares at his clenched fists, encased in metal and rust, eyes unblinking, and then tips her chin in resignation. “Go on, Caspar. I won’t be thinking any less of you.”

Shamir would give him an earful if she knew he’d let an enemy get a word out before landing the final blow. “That’s how they get you to lower your guard,” she hissed out the first time she saved him when he went easy on a bandit.

But Petra isn’t an enemy. Not now. Not since that summer afternoon in the training grounds, when she said: "Our parents had conflict, but we are not them."

His axe sinks into the ground as he falls onto his knees next to her.

“I’m not my father,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. “I… there’s no reason to kill you now. And I, I never wanted to either.” He removes his gauntlets and tries to rub the tears out of his eyes, but there is dirt on his hands and it stings.

He feels a cold touch pry his fingers off his face. Petra’s coarse hands cradle his, and he notices that both of their palms are covered in scars. “You have the kindest heart I know of, Caspar. And I know you will ever be like your father, which is why I am hating the man who killed my father, but I have decided I cannot be hating you.”

Caspar identifies the exact moment an excruciating weight lifts from his shoulders. He wants to tell Petra everything that’s happened, how he lost sleep over this battle, tossed and turned about what he was going to say. Instead, all that comes out is a relieved: “Oh…”

The tattoo under her eye curves as she offers a small smile.

“My eyes tell me how much you have grown, but... my heart told me that you have not changed since I was last seeing you. I was right, to say that you should be living. You have been living marvellously.”

Caspar tilts his face upwards and lets the rain wash the dirt and tears out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Petra.”

“Do not apologise, Caspar. I won’t apologise either. You made your choice, and I made mine.” She squeezes his hands in hers. “Now, we must live to bear the consequences of our choices together.”

“Together,” Caspar repeats, and doesn’t let go.

[petaldancing]

fic: for all the times i can’t reverse

fandom: pokespe characters: sapphire, ruby summary: ten years later, they strike a new deal read: on AO3 or below

notes: for gret, who gave me the prompt: "don't ignore me" P.S. i haven't finished the ORAS arc, so not sure if this is canon-compliant, P.P.S. for pokemon nicknames, i use chuang yi's translations cause that's what i grew up reading

have i come a long way from 50 frantic ways? *shrug* but i’m still a sucker for these two a literal decade on

----

Over the years, Sapphire has attempted all manner of confession: face-to-face under torrential rain, hand in hand standing before the possible end of the world, foolishly through Gold, a bit more gently through Crys, yelling mid-argument, and then, softly, when there is no one else around but them.

Likewise, Ruby has mastered all tactics of avoidance: pushing her off Pilo’s back, using imminent disaster as distraction, pretending not to hear her, feigning ignorance, keeping his big mouth shut for once .

She does not know when she grows out of this back and forth and stops trying. Maybe it is when she is sixteen or eighteen. She’s twenty-one now, and looking back at the last few years, her friendship with Ruby has improved. They still argue, but it’s less these days. (Emerald would be proud of ‘em, if he bothered to step out of his lab to notice.) Their fights are no longer about unrequited feelings or ten-year old love confessions. It’s more like: which way to go when they’ve gotten lost, or how her new clothes aren’t colour-coordinated, stuff that they can laugh about, stuff that can be either ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. You can’t really do that with feelings.

Part of why they fight less is because they talk less too. The Petalburg Gym is always expecting new challengers and she hasn’t had a break since she took over Norman three years ago. Having this job takes her mind off nagging thoughts, pushes her to keep training, adapting to new trainers and their partner pokemon visiting from regions she’s never had the luxury to travel to. On the rare afternoons she can afford to leave the gym early, she treks through the lush forests encircling the city, retracing the steps of her childhood backyard.

As she walks with Toro, she thinks about new strategies, designs for the gym, what she’ll have for dinner, and on days she passes by her old Secret Base—Ruby. Unlike the past, when the thought of him would make her scowl, now it is more often accompanied by a sigh, maybe a sheepish grin if she is in a good mood. It’s not just because she’s mellowed a bit since her anxious teenage days. It’s because he’d spent a lot of effort on the old Secret Base, dolling it up and even adding a tent with pillows inside for her in case she spent a night in the forest. “Though I’ll never understand why anyone would want to,” he’d sneer, as if begging to start another fight.

Now, he’s always in Lilycove judging those Pokemon Contests. But once a month, she’ll receive a parcel from him with something fancy to clip in her hair and this particular brand of Pokemon food that Toro and the rest like to eat. It’s shipped in from Kanto, and Lilycove is the cheapest place to get it. Usually Ruby includes a hurried note like “Mimi’s gotten even prettier” or “I found the perfect fabric today” or “I’ll visit soon”, though the third time she receives this particular sign off, Sapphire takes it with a grain of salt.  

She hasn’t been to the old base in awhile, but today is special. She weaves through the twisty paths of the woods until the leaves open up to the entrance of the long abandoned Secret Base. The sound of dry leaves and twigs crunches under the soles of her boots. All the memories she and Ruby made here, it’d been before they got proper jobs and stopped hanging out, before they cleared out the entire base, before she gave up on him replying her confessions.

She remembers stumbling into the base after getting into a nasty fight with a group of territorial Mightyena, and how Ruby brandished a first aid kit and stitched the deepest cut up. And the other time, when he surprised her with a cake on her birthday and didn’t get too upset when she couldn’t resist smashing a slice into his face. And the time when they both fell asleep waiting for the rain to stop, and she dreamt that he’d touched her cheek and whispered something she couldn’t hear. And, the very first time they met—their 80-day bet. So many things changed in the span of those 80 days.

Sapphire double checks the date on her PokeNav. Ten years ago on this day, she swung from a vine and saved a helpless Ruby. Ten years ago, she reunited with the little, fierce boy who saved her when she’d been helpless.

In the middle of this tranquil forest, Sapphire shuts her eyes and feels the warm sunlight on her skin. How much has changed the past decade? She’s proven her worth as a gym leader, she’s met and learned from so many other Dex Holders and pokemon masters, she’s become a braver and wiser person. So what if the only thing that she hasn’t gotten better at is dealing with Ruby? So what if she can’t help but come back to this sentimental spot even though she should’ve grown up and moved on by now?

Just then, she hears a rustle from inside the Secret Base.

Toro readies its fists as Sapphire jumps back and lands on all fours. “Who’s there? Come out!” she growls at the darkness.

“Easy. It’s just me.”

Toro lowers its talons and squawks, immediately recognising the voice.

Ruby steps out into the light, a hand adjusting the frame of his spectacles. He’s stopped wearing his goofy hat, and looks a lot like his dad now. Except, his eyes are kinder. They’ve always been. Zuzu the Swampert appears beside him, greeting them with mild-mannered coos.

“What’re you doing here? You spooked me!” Sapphire asks as she stands upright, more surprised than angry. Zuzu and Toro are much more agreeable with one another, bounding off to play fight in a pile of leaves.

“Very nice to see you again too,” Ruby says with a dash of sarcasm, and inches back when she shoots him a dirty look. “Just thinking of redecorating, I suppose,” he relents, propping a hand on his chin. He examines the mouth of the cave with a measuring tape as Sapphire stands aside, jaw slack. “Remember how this used to look? I must admit it was one of my best interior design projects. I don’t think I gave myself a proper pat on the back for that. No matter, I’ve already got ideas for how to make Secret Base 2.0 even more fabulous!”

Sapphire doesn’t understand what’s happening. Trust Ruby to be the sort of person who you miss, and then immediately want gone when he’s actually around. “That was when we were kids! What… what’s the use of coming back here now? Don’t you have a job?”

Ruby glances over his shoulder mid-measurement and raises an eyebrow. “Pot calling kettle black, much?”

Sapphire sucks in a breath and stands her ground. “This is my neck of the woods! I can come here whenever I want!”

“You know how I never really liked spending time at that house with my dad around? This place is about the closest place I’d call home for me, at least in Hoenn. Lilycove is nice and clean and all, and I hate to admit it, but I was starting to miss this place.” Ruby does not turn around when he says this, but watching the firm line of his chin and the hand he runs along the cave wall, Sapphire can tell that he’s being serious.

“And today’s our anniversary, isn’t it? Of the day we met.” He spins on his heel to finally face her.

Sapphire wills herself not to blush like a thirteen-year old, and it is easy when she thinks about how Ruby shouldn’t be allowed to use that word.  

“Pfft. Anniversary? Ain’t that reserved for lovey-dovey couples? Who gave you permission to call it that?” Sapphire feels her heart sting at this, and hopes that it hurts Ruby too, even just a fraction.

The expression on his face shifts, from classic, nonchalant, above-it-all Ruby to a more neutral one. He presses his lips together and slowly winds the measuring tape around his knuckles, fidgeting with his hands.

“Will you help me rebuild the Secret Base, Sapph’?” he tries to change the topic.

“Why should I? I don’t come here anymore.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Ruby points out.

Sapphire sputters. “That’s—argh! Look, maybe to you it’ll be a fun and easy project, something to getcha’ mind off the stress of work. Whatever. This place means a lot more to me than you, and I ain’t in the mood to be a part o’ your flights o’ fancy.”

“It means a lot to me too.” Ruby stares at her, his mouth curving into a frown.

The words burst from Sapphire before she can contain them: “Then why didn’t you come back sooner?”

Her emotions have gotten to him and he fires back without filtering his words either. “I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know when would be a good time. I didn’t know how scary and disgusting the cave would be. I… I didn’t know how to tell you that I missed you, Sapph’.”

Hearing this from Ruby, the Ruby who is supposed to be selfish, the Ruby she hates, the Ruby she loves, Sapphire clenches her hand into a fist. She does not say a word, instead choosing to glare at him, daring him to continue.

To his credit, he does. “I know I’ve been a Gold-level jerk about it, but I’m not good with words. Running away? Making anything look pretty? All that’s easier than talking about feelings.” Ruby straightens his posture and removes his spectacles, so that he’s looking directly at her. “But Sapph’, all the times we’ve spent and all the times we’re going to spend—they’re important to me too. They’ve always been. I was too young and immature to face it. I’m trying to get better at it. Ten years is a long time to do nothing, and I don’t want to spend the next ten years not doing anything.”

Sapphire bites down on her lip, suppressing the urge to shout at the top of her lungs, to point and laugh at how their roles have reversed. To give him payback for all these years of chasing and dodging and convenient amnesia, hasn’t that been something she’s always wanted?

But Ruby’s words also cause her to think about everything she’s been through with him. She wouldn’t call it ‘doing nothing’. It’s everything but that. Haven’t they been through thick and thin together since their very first adventure? Haven’t they saved the world and held hands more times than she can count? Sure, they never talked about what they meant to each other, but at the end of the day, she knew that Ruby had her back. That he’d be there, always with a new set of clothes for whatever reason, and how she loved wearing the stuff he made even though she was too embarrassed to admit it.

Maybe she should have paid more attention to what Ruby did for her, instead of the stuff he refused to say. Maybe she’s been just as much of an immature brat as him.

“Don’t ignore me,” Ruby says in a soft voice. It is the voice of someone who is guilty, who knows that they don’t deserve a reply, not after what they’ve done, and not done.

For all the mistakes Ruby has made, Sapphire is sure she’s made some too. And Ruby, he never really left her alone, even when they had huge, ugly fights. Even when they were cities apart. He always found a way to show that he was still thinking of her, with sparkly hair clips she only wore on special occasions, and a bag of food that wasn’t meant for her.

Sapphire clears her throat and says, “I’ll help you rebuild the base, on one condition.”

Ruby visibly gulps. “What?”

“Take me out on a date.” She puts her hands on her hips.

He blinks a few times, as if he can’t quite process what she just said.

“Deal?” she asks with a chuckle. It’s funny, seeing Ruby caught off guard.

“Alright,” Ruby concedes at last. Instead of looking defeated, he smiles.

Sapphire lifts her hand up for a handshake. When Ruby takes her hand in his, it is a warm and familiar feeling. It reminds her of deep seas and heavy floods and relentless droughts and soaring through the skies. Of soft, blurry afternoons playing in the grass, childish laughter ringing in the air.

“It’s a deal.”

[petaldancing]

fic: slander at great heights

fandom: hyouka characters: houtarou, mayaka summary: “you’re trembling”  read: on AO3 or below the cut

“You’re trembling.”

Houtarou has weighed the pros and cons. On one hand, two words is something he can spare from his energy reserves. On the other hand, he knows this may be the closest he’s ever gotten to courting death. To see weakness from the impenetrable fortress that is Mayaka Ibara is a most uncommon predicament.

To be trapped with her in the clutches of a ski lift, creaking at a glacial pace up a snowy mountain, is a far more likely situation. And that is the dangerous situation Houtarou Oreki finds himself in now. Ibara could push him off if she wanted to. He stares between the grey skis attached to his boots, at the pure white ground rolled out underneath them. It is a far cry from the hot springs they went to on their summer trip last year. Then again, Houtarou nearly died there too. So maybe it is just his luck.

Ultimately, Ibara chooses mercy.

“Shut up,” she growls, but keeps her arms tucked tightly to her sides.

Houtarou pulls his scarf up over his mouth. He knows she’s bundled up in the thick down jacket Chitanda lent her before they left the ski resort this morning. It’s not because she’s cold. Is she angry at Chitanda? Satoshi was the first to rush up to the ski lift and declare “the last one down has to reveal an embarrassing secret!” and trust Chitanda to frantically chase after him to ensure she wouldn’t be the unfortunate loser. This was done without any consideration to Ibara who seemed to be frozen on the spot staring at the length of the ski lifts, and Houtarou who was still struggling to stand up right.

But when it comes to anyone other than Houtarou, Ibara is usually reasonable. He glances at her again, and her eyes are shut tight and her breathing is rapid, the warm air puffing out her mouth like a train. Her gloved hands are balled in her lap, still trembling.

Houtarou tugs on his bangs, which are cold and stiff in the winter air.

He decides not say anything this time. Instead, with the smallest movement, he angles his elbow out and nudges Ibara so that she cracks one eye open. He keeps his elbow raised to her—a wordless offer for her to hold onto something if she needs to.

Ibara arches her eyebrow at this. “Are you flirting with me?”

Houtarou does not have the energy to give the ten-minute monologue on why he would never, in his mortal life and beyond the grave, ever think of expressing any romantic interest in the being that is Mayaka Ibara. He just shakes his head.

“Right. I’m just getting dizzy from the height. A slug like you wouldn’t know the first thing about flirting.”

Even though there is no one around to witness this heartless slander and take pity on him, Houtarou Oreki has some pride too. “Flirting falls under the list of things that I don’t have to do,” he remarks dryly. In front him, he can see Chitanda and Satoshi chatting animatedly on their ski lift, nodding and laughing at each other.

Ibara has no poisonous comeback for this. Instead, she takes a deep breath, as if to steel herself for what is about to happen, before wordlessly curling her hand around his elbow. Her hold is so loose and slack, if Houtarou wasn’t looking, he wouldn’t be able to tell she was touching him.

After a few seconds of silence, Ibara tightens her grip.

“Don’t you dare tell them about this.” It means to come out as a threat, but Houtarou can tell it’s her roundabout way of saying thank you.  

“I’ll tell Satoshi to sit with you next time.”

This is Houtarou’s most direct way of saying ‘you’re welcome’.

----

notes: got this prompt from twitter and took it in a completely different direction? anyway, come talk to me there if you want to be friends~ i’m petaldancing on there too

[petaldancing]

fic: power levels

fandom: kazetsuyo characters: kakeru, prince  summary: a part of kakeru thinks that prince will stop running

A part of Kakeru had always expected that Prince would stop running after that very first Hakone Ekiden. Haiji was going to graduate, and with him, the reason for everything: the morning runs before the break of dawn, the warm fluffy rice and braised chicken that could always satisfy everyone in the dorm, “The mountains of Hakone are—!”. Another part of Kakeru had hoped that he wouldn’t. 

He isn’t Haiji, so the night the fourth years move out, he does not say anything, does not want to assume that they’ll listen to him just because Haiji slapped him on the back and proclaimed that he would be the new captain of club. They might even want to take a break after the long night of drinking, to recover and get ready to attend the Graduation Ceremony too.  But come the next morning, he finds Joji and Jota, and Musa and Shindo, all decked in their running gears, stretching outside Chikuseisou. Kakeru is about to close the door behind him when the staircase behind him creaks with weight. “You’re joining us?” Kakeru asks, and can’t help it when the corner of his mouth lifts up. As Prince ties is hair back, his hands are too busy to cover his mouth when he yawns. He manages to look handsome even then. “Why shouldn’t I? I want to continue running,” he says simply as he sits down at the entrance and reaches for his shoes. Kakeru wants to believe this, wants to know that Prince isn’t just doing this because he’s been told to, or because of routine. He bites his lip before asking: “It’s that important to you?” “What a weird question. I suppose it won’t mean anything to you since we’re on completely different power levels,” Prince remarks as he laces up his worn down running shoes. “It does,” Kakeru’s reply is immediate. He hesitates, before placing a hand on Prince’s shoulder. The bone is thin and sharp, but steady all the same under his palm. “I’m proud of you,” Kakeru blurts out, in a faint attempt to sound encouraging, like how a captain should. Prince tilts his head back to look at Kakeru with half-lidded eyes. “I’m not doing it for your approval,” he says, in that surly tone Kakeru has grown familiar with. It reassures him that Prince is still Prince, that he’s doing this to obtain something more fragile and precious. Kakeru doesn’t know what that is, but maybe he’ll get a hint if he reads a bit more manga. “Hey! We’re starting without you slowpokes! Last one to the field buys the drinks!” Joji calls from the front yard, his words growing softer as he too runs out the gate. As the two of them exit the dorm and walk out onto the main street, Kakeru can see the backs of the Kansei University Track team growing smaller in the distance. He nods to Prince and breaks into a slow jog. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” Prince smiles, or grimaces, Kakeru can’t quite tell. All he knows is that when he turns back, Prince will be there, and that is a fragile and precious thing too.  

[petaldancing]

fic: a kind of cruelty

fandom: ano hana characters: tsuruko, yukiatsu  summary: things you said after you kissed me read on: AO3 or below the cut!

Tsuruko is twenty-five and two months younger than Yukiatsu when she decides that it is enough. She can no longer buoy her life to Atsumu Matsuyuki’s, no longer walk with him to university campus at the exact same time every weekday, no longer keep her schedule open for those rare nights when he suggests they grab dinner after a long day of classes in med school. This is not because Yukiatsu is a cruel person—he has always been like that, after all. This is because Tsuruko doesn’t want to become that sort of person.

Normally, you should let difficult things like this go slowly and carefully. Stop answering texts in five minutes, start filling up your days with painting sessions in the studio, then pack less rice into the bento you make for him. Tsuruko does none of this. Instead, she tells him to meet her along the train tracks at sunset, and when he asks why, she says, “Because it’s a longer walk for you than it is for me.”

Tsuruko tells herself that this is what she needs to do, that she won’t stoop as low as Yukiatsu. Won’t harbour lost love for a ghost who will never return it, even though she is already as guilty as him. The hypocrite in her wants to be angry, furious. But, she knows Menma would’ve hated this. And Tsuruko loves her too. So, the anger does not touch her when she sees Yukiatsu appear on the other end of the road, a train rushing past. Instead, it’s only courage, the thing Menma was best at teaching her.

Tsuruko usually knows exactly how Yukiatsu will respond. And she is always two steps ahead because she can chart the way their conversations unravel. But this, this is not something they ever talk about. So she must settle for not knowing.

“I’m not like you,” she starts, staring at the space between her sandals and his boots.

“I know.” Yukiatsu is unperturbed. He stands with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “But usually, aren’t I the one who gets dramatic and demanding? Are we switching places today?”

“I’m not like you,” Tsuruko repeats to be sure. Then, she raises her gaze to meet his. “So I’m not going to stick around, hoping for the impossible to happen.”

Yukiatsu raises an eyebrow and looks almost hurt.

“I love you,” Tsuruko declares, and does not sound proud of it. “But you can’t use that as a reason to keep me around. I… I can’t use that as a reason anymore either.”

Yukiatsu maintains his straight face, but Tsuruko can tell from the curl of his lips that he is now nervous and afraid. But instead of cowering back, he steps forward. The proximity is new for Tsuruko, who has spent the last decade walking two steps behind him. She does not want to go back to that tiresome cycle, she wants to break it, crush it under her heel. So she touches his cheek and leans in, and when he obliges, she grazes her lips against his.

The kiss is what she expects: vivid pain and faint relief, like waking from a nightmare you don’t remember having.

“Were you always this cruel?” Yukiatsu whispers in her ear.

Tsuruko wants to laugh, or cry, or kiss him again.

But all she does is nod and reply, “I learned from the best.”