some silleh headshots i did.. forgot to post after i finished them my bad gang ToT
UGGHH them them silly boys them.. (i debated who to draw for half of this pages existence lmao. i knew i NEEDED to draw some of my shapey losers and so I DID. mrehehe)
tbh i dont have much to say about my design choices this time around. theyre all just super neat and me personally i love them.. my bugs my bugs..
Wondered why I couldn't find this bit on my blog, turns out I stuck it in the drafts of another sideblog :P Anyway
Cal crash lands in 1999 much to Arthur's suspicion and distrust.
--
Arthur curled his lip as the stranger that had appeared from thin air reached a hand out to him, smirking.
"Captain Caliburn of the Zariman Ten-Zero. Call me Cal, if you like."
The smirk fell into a self-deprecating smile as Arthur simply continued to glare. "Cal" withdrew his hand and stood back, folding his arms across his chest. It would almost look casual, if not for the stance footing and the 8-foot-tall monstrosity looming over his shoulder.
Arthur's brows furrowed. "And you're from ...where, exactly? You don't look like Navy. Are you working for Dr. Entrati?"
"I'm from your future, kind of," Captain Caliburn said awkwardly, scratching his head. "I'm not sure if you guys know about Eternalism yet or not. I... don't know what 'navy' is, aside from the color. And no, not really. Kind of." The stranger sighed, and turned aside a bit to put his hands on his hips and glare at the wall for a moment. "Albrecht is a fucking loser Orokin and I'm trying to help his boyfriend and his lab creatures fix his fucking mess." The startling orange eyes swung back over to Arthur. "Did anything I said make sense?"
Arthur gripped the hilt of his sword warily. "From the future. Here to fix Entrati's mess. I think I can work with that." He gestured at the preening, purring Helminth. "You don't look infested. But that thing spat you out."
"Ah, yeah." A fond smile grew on the stranger's face as he leaned over and patted it much like a normal person would with a pet dog. "This is Helminth. He's.... special, I think? A friend at any rate. And a crucial part of getting me here into the past."
Arthur squinted at the hell-mouth in confusion and distrust, but if this stranger was here to "fix Entrati's mess" they could use the extra hands. He was going to need a lot more information, though.
"Alright. I'm taking you back to our base for questioning... and then we can start on how to 'fix' all of... this," he finished, gesturing at the techrot around them.
"Sounds good. Lead on."
Arthur knew he hadn't blinked but the stranger disappeared, and the creature that looked like his own nightmares of the infestation completely taking him over straightened up a bit, and even flipped him a sloppy salute. It rankled a little bit.
"Non-military doesn't need to salute. I've no rank anymore either."
It bowed slightly (in apology?) and gestured for him to move forward.
"Just keep close," Arthur growled, and turned to lead them through the rot to "home".
"You're not military, you said."
"No, sir."
"So your ship..."
Cal grinned. "A space ship. Loid told me you guys don't really have space flight yet beyond rocket propulsion."
Arthur nodded, studying the other's face. Oddly bright ember-colored eyes, crayon-bright red hair that seemed natural if the eyebrows weren't also dyed. "Purpose of the ship?"
"Big old colony vessel." Cal leaned back in his chair. "Headed for the Tau system, supposed to start human life anew on a terraformed planet there." He half smiled, a little wistfully. "We never got there. Relic drive malfunctioned and dropped us into the Void with no way out."
"And you were the captain?" Arthur asked skeptically. He didn't see either a military or pilot's bearing in this man at all. Too skittish, too fidgety, too quick to flash emotion.
"Am." Ah. There was a grim smile. "Line of succession, you know? Passes to the last person alive on the ship eventually."
Realisation hit Arthur like an icy fish to the face. "Oh... I'm very sorry to hear that."
"Thanks." Cal tilted his head. "It might be broken to shit and being slowly consumed by the Void but... it was still my responsibility. I looked after it for who knows how long..." He gave a huff of a laugh. "Graveyards need a keeper, right?"
"Mm." Arthur nodded faintly. Captain of a ghost ship... he was starting to get the shape of it. This Drifter was just as broken as the rest of them, victimized by the Void. "Shall we move on to the 'Warframes', as you called them?"
"Please." He looked so eager to change the subject it twisted something in Arthur's chest.
"Good. I need to know why the one you were.... in.... looked like me."
a/n: this idea has been on my noggin for so long omg, enjoy!
please reblog and reply, engagement is both fun & important ✨
[not edited]
this was fun, should i do more fics like this?
“Ugh, are we there yet?”
Oikawa whined looking out the window with a forlorn look as if he was in a music video. You glanced at Iwaizumi, who was at the wheel, snickering slightly as you saw his eye twitch in annoyance. The five of you decided to take a road trip, sort of like a last hurrah, for your last year of high school.
This originally started as a small trip that was planned on senior ditch day but Matsun and Makki wanted to do a road trip. And so, senior ditch day morphed into senior ditch weekend. Of course, none of your parents approved this, so you guys were in for an earful when you returned. But as Hanamaki stated, when you got a screaming voicemail from your guardian, “Live in the moment, worry about that later”. And despite that being terrible advice, you listened anyway.
The destination of your little road trip is Tokyo which was a five to six hour drive. Some might say that’s not too long but traveling with Oikawa it feels like an eternity. He was already complaining. That was mainly because he was upset that you got shotgun and he didn’t. Originally you planned on sitting in the back with the disaster duo but Hajime insisted you sit in the front with him. Something about you being the most tolerable. Iwaizumi was obviously the driver because he’s the most responsible out of you five. It’s weird to think you guys just planned this trip just a week prior.
“So what are we doing for senior ditch day?”
You asked setting your tray down and sitting in between Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Issei just scoffed lightly, “I dunno what you’re doing but I’m sleeping” He answered. Takahiro laughed in agreement. “Probably practicing” Tooru replied. You pouted at their lame responses, “Hajime please tell me you have better plans than these losers” You pleaded. Iwaizumi looked up from his notes, “Uh, I don’t know, I’m probably going to come to school” He shrugged ignoring your disgusted face.
“I know y’all are not serious. This is the last year we’re going to be together like this, we should do something memorable”
You declared crossing your arms over your chest glaring at your friends. “Ew, you sound like Oikawa, getting all sentimental and shit” Makki quipped popping a french fry in his mouth. You stuck your tongue out at him playfully. Oikawa hummed, “I mean they do have a point, let’s do something we’ll remember for years to come”. “Whatever, I guess I’m down” Matsukawa added rolling his eyes. The four of you looked at Iwaizumi, who mentally checked out of the conservation a while ago, waiting for his answer. “Count me out, my parents will kill me if I skipped school” He responded, causing the lot of you to groan. “Ugh, can you not be an upstanding student for like two seconds” You huffed leaning your head in your hand. Now the brunette looked up, “You guys know how my parents are, especially you Shittykawa” He stated, pointing his pencil at the setter. “Yeah yeah, we know how your parents are. Y/n’s parents are just as bad” Issei voiced.
You couldn’t help but internally groan, you remember how your guardians reacted when you brought the four boys to your house. “Don’t remind me. Senior Ditch Day is on a Friday, we barely do anything as is since it’s the end of the year” You said, “plus, you’re the only one of us that drives decently” You stated mustering up your best puppy dog eyes. Hajime looked at you before answering, “Fine, but if I get in trouble. You guys will be the ones talking to my parents”. And from there, the planning commenced.
Currently, you guys were only an hour out of Miyagi. Issei was already knocked out, Hanamaki was on his phone and Oikawa was sulking as per usual. “If you ask me if we’re there yet, one more time, I’ll have Makki push you out the car” He threatened his eyes never leaving the road. “Makki wouldn’t do that to me” Tooru claimed which caused ‘Hiro to snort. “Shut up, you know I will” He stated not even bothering to look up from his phone. Oikawa let out a dramatic gasp, “But we’re going 85 miles an hour on a highway!” He exclaimed. “Did I stutter?” Takahiro mumbled, still not paying any attention to his captain’s dramatics.
This was going to be a long four hours.
You woke up leaning against something super warm, you opened your eyes taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in the front anymore, from what you could see, it looked like Oikawa got his wish of riding shotgun. You sat up rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “Oh, good morning sleeping beauty” Oikawa teased. You were too sleepy and disoriented to come up with a witty comeback.
“Why.. why is Issei driving?”
That’s when you noticed Iwaizumi was the warm surface you were leaning against moments before. “I got tired of driving, we stopped at a gas station and switched places” Hajime explained noticing your confused face, “and you were sleeping so we moved you to the back”. You realized that not only were you leaning against Iwa but your legs were propped up on Makki’s lap. You nodded slightly, still tired despite waking up from a nap. “We spoil them rotten, don’t we?” ‘Hiro commented pinching your thigh causing you to whine slightly. “Shut up” You mumbled leaning into Iwaizumi’s side once again making him chuckle. Matsukawa looked at you through the rearview mirror,
“That’s right, Y/n gets all grumpy when they’re tired”
“Issei… focus on not crashing the car, not on me”
Oikawa let out a low whistle, “Woah, catty much?” He asked rhetorically laughing slightly. You rolled your eyes, “Whatever, how much farther?” You asked closing your eyes. Hajime glanced at his phone, “Two more hours” He replied. Tooru made a choked noise before turning around to face his childhood best friend. “Uh! They ask you if we’re there and get an answer, but when I ask, I get threatened?!” The brunette cried his eyebrows furrowing. The ace rolled his eyes, “Yeah, cause they’re not fucking annoying about it” He retorted. You pointed at Oikawa while laughing at his shocked face causing him to pout and crossed his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Uh oh, I think it’s Oikawa’s turn for a nap” Makki joked. Matsun hummed in agreement, “Yup, Y/n gets grumpy and Oikawa gets bratty” He laughed.
“Ugh whatever, at least I don’t snore like a chainsaw”
“Says the man who can’t sleep in any other position besides fetal”
“Dude shut up! It’s comfortable!”
Iwaizumi sighed, already knowing this petty argument wouldn’t end anytime soon. He looked down at you, “Who are you messaging?” Hajime inquired, peering at your phone. “No one, just some first years in my DMs” You hummed noncommittally. “You still leading those poor kids on?” Hanamaki asked. Glancing at Makki you pursed your lips, “I’m not leading them on… I’m just entertaining the antics” You replied smiling innocently and batting your eyelashes. “Yo, remember when that one first year confessed to you in the middle of lunch?” Issei asked slowing at a red light. You sat up suddenly, “Oh my god yes! That was so embarrassing!” You exclaimed. “You were embarrassed? Imagine the kid when you rejected him” Iwaizumi countered raising an eyebrow. “The second-hand embarrassment was strong on that one” Takahiro agreed, “Y/n’s a heartbreaker,” He said shaking his head.
You gasped, “I’m not! I’m just not interested in people like three years younger than me” You explained defending yourself. “Well, your choices are limited, since all the people in our grade are scared of us for whatever reason” Tooru stated with his eyes closed and head leaning on the window, looking like he would clonk out soon. “Yeah cause y’all are intimidating as fuck” You claimed. Issei chuckled, “Mm, yeah we kinda are” He admitted. “If they really liked you, they wouldn’t be scared to confess” Hajime shrugged. You smiled widely, “Ok king! My fault” You laughed giving him a high five. “Wait but if we’re so intimidating how come girls are always throwing their panties at Oikawa” Hanamaki questioned.
“Cause he’s not the intimidating one, it’s mainly Iwa and Matsun”
“Matsun is not intimidating, he looks out of it half of the time”
“Not out of it, more like zooted”
You quipped, laughing when Issei playfully glared at you through the rearview mirror. “Bro, remember when Kindaichi found out we were going on this trip and asked to come?” Takahiro laughed. “Stop! Y’all are so mean to him” You said kicking Makki slightly with your foot. Matsukawa snorted, “No cause what did he expect us to say, “Sure buddy you can come!” Like dude nooo,” He mocked laughing loudly. You bit your lip in an effort to not laugh, “Stop this Kindaichi slander at once” You demanded holding back your own giggles. “Okay Y/n, are you saying that you would’ve said yes if he asked you?” The wing spiker inquired giving you a look. “Well.. no—” You started. “Exactly! You’re just as bad as us” Issei interjected.
“No, I am not! You two literally looked at each other and busted out laughing, you didn’t even answer the poor boy”
“Sorry… it was funny”
“That shit was hilarious”
Hajime cleared his throat, “Is Trashykawa sleeping? Haven’t heard him talk in a while” He asked drawing shapes into your shoulder absentmindedly. Matsun glanced at his friend who was definitely passed out against the window. “Yeah, he’s gone” The middle blocker responded.
“Should we draw on his face?”
…
“Oh absolutely”
The car was fairly silent now, you guys were nearing the end of your road trip and it was later in the day. The sky was littered with reds and oranges as the sun started its daily routine. The sunset was bold, radiant, and just plain mesmerizing, you couldn’t help but stare in awe. You sighed inwardly, “I’m gonna miss you guys” You uttered looking out the window. Your four guy friends looked at each other before looking at you. Iwaizumi spoke up first, “What’s there to miss? We’re not going anywhere” He asked. “I know that but who knows when the next time we’ll do something like this?” You whispered refusing to look at them because you knew you would start crying if you did. Hanamaki nudged your foot with his hand, “Y/n stop being such a baby, we’ll still see each other—” He started before you interrupted.
“That’s not the point stupid. We’re all going our own separate ways. Iwaizumi’s going to school in America, Oikawa’s going to fucking Argentina, and we’re all going to different colleges. This sucks ass, I finally have a group of friends I love and now I have to leave them—”
“Hey, what did we just say? We’re not going anywhere. So what if we’re going down different paths? Holidays exist Y/n, you think Iwaizumi and Oikawa are gonna stay in America and Argentina all year round? Plus me and Makki’s colleges are not that far from yours, I could probably walk if I wanted to. Now stop sulking, you’re bringing down the mood”
Issei stated his eyes never once drifting from the road. You sniffed and leaned into Hajime’s side more, “Jeez, sorry” You mumbled playing with your fingers. If the car wasn’t quiet before, it sure was now. No one knew what to say, it seemed too early to make a joke about it and it was a conversation none of you were ready to have. But despite not being ready, Oikawa still voiced his opinion nevertheless,
“Well would you look at that, Y/n really does love us. And I thought you hated me”
You snorted, “I do hate you” You teased making a face at him which he gladly returned. But his demeanor suddenly became serious,
“Adding on to what Mattsun said, we’re not leaving forever Y/n. Graduation is like three months away, we still have time to hang out plus we have the summer so there’s that. I know you love us and can’t possibly live without us but I think you’ll manage”
You blinked in response to Oikawa’s little spiel, “You are so corny” You huffed looking down so he wouldn’t notice the small tears in your eyes.
“Ah! So when I do it it’s corny, what about that whole pitch Matsun did?!”
“Hey, I wasn’t corny. I was being real”
“Please, as if, you were just being mean”
“It’s called tough love, it isn’t made for softies”
Watching the two of them go back and forth once again was entertaining. And when Makki and Iwaizumi joined in, it was just one hundred times better. But seeing your best friends interact with one another just made you realize how much you love them. And although this may be your guy’s last high school adventure, it wasn’t going to your last endeavor with this crazy bunch. You smiled slightly to yourself,
It's a usual busy morning when Izaya catches sight of familiar bleached, messy hair. He considers his options, wondering if it might be in his best interest to let Shizuo pass by unprovoked. Izaya's got a deadline coming up and a meeting to get to, not to mention his stomach is a little sour from leaving his apartment without breakfast. He could wait until Shizuo passes, make his way to the nearest cafe, and the rest of his day could go without a hitch, but somehow the thought of another mundane day has Izaya's face scrunching in irritation. His work isn't normal by any means, nor is his life, but he thinks if it ever started to be predictable, he really might lose his mind for good.
He watches Shizuo, wondering when might be the best time to intercept him, but he pauses when he hears Shizuo's laugh ring out. It's bright, unbridled, happy. Izaya rarely sees Shizuo like this, and he's never seen Shizuo like this up close. By far, this is the most Izaya has ever hated Shizuo. This is the most hate Izaya thinks he's capable of.
Still, he isn't making himself known.
Shizuo passes by with Tom and Vorona, still chuckling about something Izaya didn't hear. All of them are in their own little bubble, and to anyone who didn't know them, they might seem vulnerable. Izaya grins at that, thinks of false perceptions. He really shouldn't interrupt their day, not when there's so much else to do. Shizuo likely wouldn't stop chasing Izaya for over an hour, and even afterwards, Izaya knows staying in Ikebukuro means Shizuo will keep hunting him. It's better for Shizuo not to know Izaya is even in the city at all.
He steps out onto the sidewalk anyway.
It's an instantaneous reaction. Shizuo's happy, contented expression is replaced entirely, and Izaya knows if nothing else, he's succeeded in ruining Shizuo's morning. Shizuo steps closer, his teeth bared, fists clenched. He growls something, but Izaya barely hears it, doesn't need to. It's the same old song and dance, and Izaya knows it by heart.
He turns and books it, and he can tell without looking back that Shizuo is hot on his heels. It's strange, really, that his least favorite person— monster— is always the one who makes Izaya feel most alive. It's probably an animal instinct, something leftover from the past. Shizuo is a predator, after all, another breed entirely. More than that, he's fun. Shinra has mentioned, more than once, that goading Shizuo is akin to self-destructive behavior on Izaya's part, but then what does that make it for Shizuo?
“Getting distracted, flea?!” Shizuo shouts, and Izaya cackles as he dodges whatever it was Shizuo just threw. “You're slow today!”
“Faster than Shizu-chan all the same,” Izaya mutters to himself. He hasn't been sleeping well, which isn't anything new. He's got so much work to do, took on a lot at once, maybe too much. Izaya has always had a hard time sitting still, but at some point he's forgotten how to stop. It's unfortunate he ran into Shizuo today, but what was he supposed to do? Leave Shizuo in peace? Never.
He's propelling himself forward, and he thinks he's finally gaining enough momentum to lose Shizuo, but what he loses is something much more significant. He hears a honking, some shouts, a woman screaming. He feels pain all over, and then his vision goes black.
***
When he comes to, no time seems to have passed. He tastes blood in his mouth and realizes he bit his tongue when he fell. He's flat on his back, concrete smooth against his palms, and he blinks stars out of his vision as he realizes Shizuo is on top of him.
“Oi. You okay? Flea?” Shizuo holds up a hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“None?” Izaya asks. He coughs a bit, choking on blood and saliva. He bit his tongue hard. “You're just— it's just a fist.”
Shizuo leans back, eyeing him. His phone is in his other hand. “I'm gonna call Shinra.”
“Don't bother, I'm fine. Fuck...” Izaya looks around. A crowd has gathered, circling them, and Izaya thinks of sharks in the water. “I can walk.”
“Your head's bleeding.”
“Was I hit?” Izaya asks. He looks around for a truck, but he never saw what it looked like.
“No,” Shizuo says. He holds his phone up to his ear, and Izaya realizes Shizuo is calling Shinra anyway. “You weren't hit.”
Izaya barely registers Shizuo's conversation with Shinra. He's foggy, unsure of details, and his head is pounding. He presses his hand into his hair and winces as pain shoots through him. When he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.
“I can walk,” Izaya says again. His legs seem to be fine, everything seems to be fine. It's just his head that's hurting, and Izaya has been concussed before. He stands and wobbles a bit, and Shizuo is on his feet in an instant.
“Izaya, stop. You're hurt.”
“I wasn't hit,” Izaya argues. “Did you save me?”
Shizuo glares at him before barking something else into the phone, and Izaya finds himself lowering back to the ground. His stomach is uneasy, and everything about this feels wrong somehow, like he's not in the right place or time. He draws his knees up and rests his head against them, feeling like he's dreaming.
Shinra arrives pretty fast. He's babbling something about already being in the area, and then he's pressing his fingers roughly into Izaya's hair and over the growing lump. Izaya hisses in pain and jolts back. Shinra laughs.
“You're fine if you can complain, Izaya-kun!”
“I don't think that's how pain works,” Izaya mutters. He's noticed that Shizuo is still standing off to the side, smoking as he observes.
“You should come over. You'll need monitoring.” Shinra checks over the rest of Izaya before deeming him fit enough to be moved. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Izaya snaps, but when he stands, his legs feel like jelly. “I already said I could.” He winds up blacking out before he can take a step.
***
As it turns out, it is a concussion, a pretty bad one. His head ends up needing stitches, and Izaya is surly and irritated by the time Shinra is finally leaving him alone. Shinra's guest bed isn't comfortable, but the room is quiet and private. Izaya wonders if Shizuo is still out there with Shinra and Celty, but then he decides he doesn't want to know the answer.
It's hard to focus at all, but time is definitely passing. Izaya keeps dozing off and waking to different lighting in the room, usually to Shinra jabbing him. It takes a while for Izaya to feel up for talking, but when he does, he blurts out the only thing he can think of.
“Shizu-chan saved my life, didn't he?”
Shinra hums and writes something down on a chart.
“He did. Tackled you right out of the way from an incoming truck.”
Izaya frowns and tries to make sense of that answer.
“What's wrong? Unhappy you were saved by Shizuo-kun? Or just unhappy you were saved?” Shinra asks, and he grins as he plops into the seat next to the bed. “You should be grateful. You probably would've died if you were struck.”
“Don't tell me how to feel about my own mortality,” Izaya says. “It's rude.”
“You've always called him a monster, but he was human enough to save you! Maybe this is your new lease on life. You can become a better person,” Shinra quips.
“Does that mean I'll finally get better friends?”
“Maybe! I don't have any intention of changing, though.”
“Of course not.” Izaya grins and covers his eyes with his hands, rubbing at them as incredulous laughter escapes him. “Fuck. This can't be real, right? Shizu-chan saving me?”
“He's a good person,” Shinra says, and he swats at Izaya when Izaya just laughs harder. “I mean it!”
“He's barely a person at all.” Izaya uncovers his face and stares listlessly up at the ceiling again. Where does this leave him? Should he thank Shizuo, be indebted to him? Should he stop trying to make Shizuo's life a living hell?
“What are you thinking about?” Shinra asks, and he smiles when Izaya turns to him.
“I didn't ask him to save me.”
Shinra sighs and leans onto the bed, his hand tugging at Izaya's sleeve.
“I'm not saying you should thank him or anything. He'd probably be mad if you did, actually. But maybe just try and hate him a little less, huh? I think you can do that much.”
“Maybe I can't,” Izaya says. “Maybe seeing him as anything other than a monster is a fate worse than death. Maybe this was his plan all along, to torture me.”
“You're being dramatic. Now I know you're fine!”
They wind up playing cards. Izaya's headache is at a tolerable level, due to the pills Shinra gave him. Shinra's presence is warm and welcome, and Izaya's chest aches with how much he's missed this, playing a game with somebody. Usually he's alone, a master of solitaire and his own games, but this is better, much better, seeing Shinra get so competitive and bent out of shape about losing. Izaya considers letting Shinra win a hand, but thinks better of it. Shinra is an even worse sore winner than loser.
“I can leave tomorrow, right?” Izaya asks.
“I don't see why not. You're conscious and alert, no signs of brain damage.” Shinra shows his hand, a full house. He's beaming. “I win!”
“Finally,” Izaya says, bemused. “Here I was thinking that playing alone would be more of a challenge.”
“Liar,” Shinra says, already shuffling the cards. “You look far too happy to be thinking mean things about me.”
Izaya joins Shinra for dinner at the table. Neither Celty nor Shizuo are in the apartment, which Izaya is grateful for. He's not ready to face Shizuo, and he isn't in the mood to deal with Celty pestering him about being nicer to Shizuo from now on. Shinra serves some fried rice with vegetables, nothing fancy, but Izaya eats ravenously, remembering he hasn't had food all day.
“I wonder what's keeping Celty,” Shinra says after a few minutes of quiet.
“She's probably off with Shizuo, both of them discussing what a saint he is for saving my life,” Izaya mutters around his chopsticks.
“Mm, maybe. She keeps odd hours, after all. I love having her with me all the time, but just thinking about our reunion makes me so giddy! I can't wait for her to come back!”
Izaya rolls his eyes and then winces. He rubs at the bandage covering his head.
“Are you in pain?” Shinra asks.
“It's fine, really. It's going to hurt for a while. I think it's the stitches more than the injury.”
“It was a pretty bad injury. You really hit your head hard.”
“So you've said,” Izaya says, letting his hand fall. “Like I said, it's fine.”
“It's unlike you to be so clumsy. I expect Shizuo running into things, but you're usually more careful,” Shinra says, and Izaya nods.
“I've been a little under the weather. I shouldn't have provoked Shizuo today.”
“You shouldn't provoke him at all!” Shinra laughs. “A concussion is less than you deserve.”
“Second chances, and all. I suppose next time I get Shizuo hit by a truck, I'll be more sympathetic to his plight. After all, he saved my life.” Izaya takes another bite of food and then looks up at Shinra. “Have you got any sake?”
“I do, but you can't have any. You're concussed.”
“Worth a try,” Izaya laments, leaning back in his chair.
“I mean it, Izaya-kun,” Shinra starts, and Izaya waves him away.
“I get it, no drinking—“
“Not that,” Shinra interrupts. “I mean about Shizuo-kun. This fight really needs to end before someone gets killed. You came close today.”
Izaya sighs. “Freak accidents happen every day. It doesn't matter what I was doing before it happened to me. For all we know, it still might've happened.”
“Doesn't mean you should further your chances.”
“Why not? I'm a good gambler.” Izaya smirks, but he softens when Shinra keeps giving him a hard stare. “What do you care for, anyway? You've never minded our feud before, aside from your desire for us all to be friends.”
“I mind it! I've always minded it! I don't want either of you to die. It seemed kind of...playful, for a while, but you're both getting worse all the time.”
“Playful,” Izaya scoffs. “We've been trying to kill each other. This isn't anything new.”
“It is, and you know it. You're both out for blood all the time now. I'm so glad Shizuo-kun saved you today. He could've let you get hit, but he didn't. It gives me hope that you two could be—“
“Stop it,” Izaya says sharply. “I mean it. I don't want to talk about him anymore.”
“Izaya-kun.” Shinra is giving him an imploring stare, his jaw set. “No one is going to make the two of you be friends, but can't you at least consider not being his enemy?”
“No,” Izaya spits vehemently. “I can't consider that, and I won't. This isn't some stupid rivalry that's going to end from one act of selflessness. It's not that simple, for him or for me, and I'm sure he'll tell you the same.”
“Saving a life isn't just an act of selflessness, Izaya-kun. It's more than that! Don't you know how much a life is worth?” Shinra's stern gaze turns into something else. “Or is it just because it's your own life that you don't see it?”
“For fuck's sake,” Izaya groans. He puts his head into his hands. “You never know when to quit. I already said this was a pointless discussion, and you're still beating the dead horse into the ground.”
“I'm determined,” Shinra says. “Finish eating before it gets cold. And think about what I said before you just brush it off! I really think you two would be good for each other.”
Izaya doesn't respond because there's no point. No matter what he says, Shinra will always be trying to get him to make amends with Shizuo, and in a weird way, Izaya is grateful for Shinra's tenacity. Shinra is a selfish idiot, but he's the only person in Izaya's life who actually cares about him. He's the only one who would play cards with him on his sickbed, anyway.
“Did you call your sisters?” Shinra asks as he clears the table. Izaya gets up to help, not wanting to be a rude house guest.
“Of course not. Why would I?”
“Well, you almost died,” Shinra says, and Izaya chuckles, thinking to himself that it's really not as big a deal as Shinra is making it out to be. No one cared when he was stabbed, after all.
“I have no intention of telling them. They'd only use the information as an excuse to attack me, you know? Mairu really has it out for me these days.”
“You have a strange relationship with them. Have you meddled so much in their lives that they don't like you now? Maybe you should ease up a bit, and I'm sure they'll forgive you.” Shinra washes the dishes, and Izaya dries them with a fluffy towel. A bright cursive 'C' is printed on the towel, and Izaya shakes his head at it.
“It's not that. We just don't get along well. I'm sure they blame me for...certain aspects of themselves, and they're right to. I was never a very good parental figure.” Izaya stacks the dry plates together, unsure of which cabinet they go in. He doesn't come here enough to know where things go.
“You did the best you could,” Shinra says with a shrug. “When they get older, I'm sure they'll realize that.”
Izaya highly doubts it. He always took care of their physical needs, but when it came to emotional availability, he was out of it. He never understood their mood swings and their tantrums, and he didn't really try to. Their parents are painfully ordinary people, so the twins got every bit of their eccentricities from Izaya, who didn't think anything of it at the time. It makes sense for them to hate him. He doesn't take it personally.
He goes back to the guest bedroom after Shinra disappears to shower. There aren't any messages on Izaya's phone, not even from clients. Things are quiet tonight, and Izaya is grateful for it. He doesn't feel well enough to spend energy on getting involved in anything.
He dozes fitfully. He's tired, but different parts of him hurt enough to where he keeps waking up. He can't get comfortable on this shitty bed. He needs to remind himself to bully Shinra into getting another mattress, or at least a mattress cover. Izaya longs for his own bed, his own place, but there is a certain comfort in knowing Shinra is right in the other room, within earshot. Izaya doesn't have that at home.
By morning, Izaya is warm under the covers, and for all it's flaws, Izaya doesn't want to leave the bed. He forces himself upright, and when he pads into the living room, Celty is on the couch, her helmet off. Still, he can tell she's looking right at him. She holds up her PDA.
“You look funny all bandaged up.”
“Thanks,” he says. “Make fun of the mortal for injuries. How cruel of you.”
“Any lasting damage?” she asks.
“I doubt it. I'm nothing if not resilient. I probably won't have work for you for a few days. Things are strangely quiet, and I should rest anyhow. Phone screens are hurting my head.”
She lowers her PDA almost sheepishly, and he finds himself laughing at her.
“It's fine, really. I appreciate the concern.”
“Are you going to thank Shizuo for what he did?” Her shadows are swirling pensively. Izaya knew this was coming.
“Nope!” he says, and she shoves the screen in his face.
“?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!!”
“I didn't ask him to save me, now did I? Besides, can you imagine what he'd say if I thanked him for anything, ever? He'd probably kill me then and there.” Izaya backs away from her and fetches his coat from the rack. “Believe me, pretending it never happened is what we both want.”
“You're wrong.” she types, and he ignores it.
“Tell Shinra I'll see him around,” he says as he exits the apartment. He's ready to be in his own bed, maybe call Namie over to wait on him. She'll hate him even more for it, but she cooks pretty well, and he actually likes her company. It's refreshing to be around people so openly hostile. They rarely hide what they're thinking.
Throughout the day, everything is painfully normal and boring. Aside from the twinges of pain he feels, Izaya thinks to himself it's almost like nothing happened at all. He contacts a few of his clients and asks for an extension, calls Shiki to check in and let him know he'll be resting for a bit, but will be ready for more work soon enough. When Namie comes, Izaya pesters her until she cooks, and she even joins him for dinner, though she says it's just because she's starving.
That night, Izaya sleeps well, though he has odd dreams, which is a normal occurrence for him. He dreams of the twins and himself, all young, together in that house. In the dream, he's trying to spend time with them, but they keep going off by themselves, laughing at him for even attempting to make a connection. No matter what he tries, he feels miles away, and in the end, he relents, leaving them alone until they both vanish. He wakes with a pit in his stomach, a feeling that something is very wrong, even if he can't place it.
He calls for Namie, but he knows she won't answer. It's daylight now, early morning, and she's long gone, clocked out on the time clock he installed just to annoy her. He looks up at his ceiling, remembering the dream. It's like a bad taste in his mouth, something that lingers despite his attempts to get rid of it. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, feeling like something is incredibly wrong, but unable to place exactly what it is.
He showers, forces himself to calm down. Nothing is any different from normal, and no matter what happens, being uneasy won't solve anything. He has so much to worry about already, especially knowing other people saw him injured on the sidewalk with Shizuo lingering over him. He considers messaging Shizuo, ridiculing him for stepping in, but he decides better of it. Izaya is too out of it to run from Shizuo right now, or anytime soon. He'll save it for later.
It's not until Namie is near him, clacking away at her own laptop, that Izaya says anything about it.
“I had a weird dream.” He looks up at her. She pauses from her typing, looks up at him with a deadpan expression.
“Okay. And?” she asks. He laughs, pushes his keyboard away before responding.
“It was about my sisters,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.
“I thought you said you didn't care about them very much?”
“I don't. It's just... A lot has happened,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.
“Do you want their sympathy? You had a near-death experience. Did you want them to dote on you?” Namie is amused, grinning at him. Izaya shakes his head.
“It's not that. I always have weird dreams, you know? Sometimes I can fall asleep early like a normal person, but when I'm out of it, I see all kinds of things. I guess this one just stuck with me. It seems ominous, kind of. It made me feel...like something is going to happen soon.”
“Like a premonition?” Namie asks, and her playful expression is gone.
“Maybe? I... I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm bringing this up. I've had much weirder dreams in the past. I guess this one just felt different.” Izaya groans before rubbing at his bandage.
“Feelings are enough,” Namie says, and when she meets Izaya's gaze, she is sincere. “I mean it. If you think something is wrong, maybe something really is wrong.”
“You're being awfully engaging today, Namie-chan,” Izaya says, and she shrugs.
“They're your sisters. I understand how it feels to worry about family.” Her expression changes, and Izaya has no doubt she's thinking of Seiji. He makes a face and tries to get back to work, but he still feels off, a little nauseous, too. He's never felt this bad after a head injury before, and he considers calling Shinra, but it's entirely possible he was coming down with a stomach virus before he got hurt. He hasn't felt his best for a few days now.
“I think I'm going to nap,” he says after a while, and Namie glances back at him.
“Nap? You?”
“I feel gross.” Izaya stretches before standing. He pads over to the stairs. “You can go home, if you want. It was stupid of me to try to work today. Sorry to make you come over at all.”
“And now you're apologizing to me? How hard were you hit, anyway?” Namie asks, and she's grinning. Izaya rolls his eyes at her.
“It won't happen again,” he promises, and he starts climbing the stairs. Namie clears her throat.
“Do you need anything before I go?” she asks, and he's a little stunned. Usually she's out the door like a shot the second she learns she can leave for the day. As it is, she's looking at him with a neutral expression, but Izaya thinks she seems a little concerned.
“I still have leftovers from yesterday. I think I have a stomach virus, anyway. I doubt I'll eat much of anything.” He rubs at his stitches. They're really itchy, and underneath there is a constant, throbbing pain.
“Do you have medicine here?” Namie asks, and Izaya snorts.
“I have my own little pharmacy, courtesy of Shinra. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were concerned about me!” Izaya grins at her, waiting for her to argue with him, but she just keeps looking up at him with furrowed brows.
“You don't seem well,” she says, and he frowns. “You look like you're going to keel over.”
“I plan to collapse right into bed. I'm fine, really. Go home, Namie-chan, I don't know what to make of you being nice to me.” He turns and heads back for his room, and he can hear Namie moving around below. He's too tired to make her leave, and really, she has a key. She can come and go when she pleases. He closes his eyes and drifts off to the sound of her footsteps.
When he wakes, his head is buried in his arms, and he realizes he's at his desk. He bolts upright, his eyes wide as he looks around. Namie is looking at him scathingly, as if he's purposely annoying her.
“Bad dream?” she asks.
“I thought I...went to bed. I went upstairs. Didn't I?” he asks, and she raises an eyebrow.
“You said you were tired and fell asleep right there. Now that you're awake, though, can I go?” Namie is already standing, and Izaya blinks up at her. His head is throbbing.
“Did we talk at all? I mentioned my sisters...”
“Your sisters?” Namie asks, pausing in gathering her things. “You never talk about them. Why would you start now?”
“Was it all a dream?” Izaya asks. He feels queasy. He needs to call Shinra.
“You're dreaming about mundane conversations with me? Wow. Here I thought an eccentric like you would have a more colorful subconscious,” Namie quips. She pulls her jacket on and heads to the door. “You have leftovers in the fridge. Don't call me unless you're dying.”
“Well that sounds more like you,” Izaya mutters to himself, waving her out. Once he's alone, he stands and immediately groans in pain before flopping back into the chair. His stomach lurches, and he doesn't know if he'll make it to the bathroom. He sits as still as he can while waiting for the vertigo and nausea to pass, and when he can move again, he grabs his phone and calls Shinra.
“Izaya-kun! I'm having dinner with Celty!” Shinra says as soon as he answers, and Izaya sighs.
“Sorry, I think maybe— Wait, dinner? It's so early,” Izaya says, and Shinra doesn't reply. “Hello?”
“Did you need something or can I hang up?” Shinra asks.
“My head— I think something's wrong. I feel terrible and I'm nauseous.”
“That's normal. You were rattled around, you know? It was a big truck.”
“The truck didn't hit me.”
“Right, right, but Shizuo-kun has more strength than a truck. Either way, just take it easy. You'll feel better soon, but you have to actually take care of yourself. Have you eaten today?” Shinra asks.
“No. I feel like I'll throw it up.”
“You've probably got low blood sugar. Eat something and lounge around, and if it doesn't subside by tomorrow, I'll come by.”
“I'm having trouble telling what's real,” Izaya blurts, and there's a pause before Shinra bursts out laughing.
“I'm not that kind of doctor, Izaya-kun!”
“It's because of my head injury, you idiot!” Izaya snaps, and Shinra keeps laughing.
“I'm sorry. It's normal to have some fogginess. You hit your head hard, and you aren't taking care of your body. Just relax and stay inside tonight. You don't want to pass out in the middle of the city. I'll come check on you tomorrow, okay?”
“Right. Okay.” Izaya hangs up then. He knows Shinra is right. He forces himself to the fridge, and he heats up the food Namie made the day before. He's nibbling at it, already feeling better when his phone rings again. It's Shiki, and he frowns, not understanding why Shiki is calling his personal phone and not his work phone.
“Hello, Shiki-san! What can I do for you?” Izaya answers.
“Izaya-san, I'm sorry,” Shiki says. “Are you home? Are you safe?”
“I'm fine. Yes, I'm home— Is something wrong?” Izaya asks. There's static for a moment, and then Shiki's voice is louder, and it sounds almost like Shiki is right next to him.
“We were worried about you. I'm glad you're safe.”
“We spoke yesterday, right?” Izaya asks. How much of that did he dream? Shiki sighs in his ear.
“Yes, but something has happened. Unfortunately, nothing could be done, and... Izaya-san, it's your sisters.”
“My sisters...” Izaya murmurs. He rubs at his head.
Warnings: death, grief, mucho angst, normal Star Wars violence
Summary: You and Poe has been together for a while and you knew that nothing could ever change the way you thought about him... or so you thought.
Notes: I realized I have waaayyy too much Poe fluff stuff lined up so I decided to change it up a bit and fuck around, you know maybe make myself cry. I didn’t really know how to end this so it’s a little bit weird. The gif isn’t mine.
Masterlist ~ Prompts/Requests
You walked through the halls of the Resistance base towards the hangar. There was supposed to be an attack on the First Order soon so people were running everywhere to get ready. As you walked into the hangar and towards the Black Squadron ships a pair of hands came over your eyes.
“Guess who?” The voice asked even though you already knew.
“Mm... Admiral Ackbar?” You guessed jokingly as you turned into the arms of Poe Dameron.
“Um no, definitely not.” Poe scoffed. “How are you y/n?”
You and your sister, Elizabeth or Bess, had joined the Resistance at the same time about seven years ago. Very soon after you joined, you were introduced to Poe. There was an instant connection between the two of you and you became fast friends. But your feelings for each other eventually became obvious to everyone but yourselves. After Poe had been captured by the First Order, everybody thought he was dead and you were beside yourself with grief at not only loosing your best friend, but never getting the chance ever again to tell him that you loved him. So when he was saved by Finn, you thanked the maker for a second chance and it turned out that Poe had a very similar thought process. The day you two confessed your feelings was one of the happiest days of your life and the day where everybody on base’s favorite otp finally came true.
“I should be asking you that question, you’re about to go fly off into battle! But please, be careful out there okay? I love you too much to lose you.” You reached up to kiss him gently.
“You know I’m always careful. I love you too-” Before Poe could finish, a pair of arms had been slung over both Poe and your shoulders.
“What’s up losers? Are you ready to kick some stromtrooper ass?” Your sister laughed as she made her way in between you guys.
When you and Bess had joined the Resistance, she immediately began training and eventually became a pilot now part of the Black Squadron underneath Poe, but you had climbed the ranks to become General Organa’s right hand.
“Hell yeah!” Poe laughed as you smiled at the two of them.
“Elizabeth,” You started turning to your little sister. She rolled her eyes at the full name, “Promise me that you won’t go jumping into danger out there, okay?”
“Yeah yeah I know. I promise.” Just then, a voice came on the loud speaker directing all pilots to their x-wings. “Alright, gotta go big sis. I’ll see you on the other side!” You watched as she climbed into her ship and got ready.
“I love you!” You called after her, to which she just threw you back a heart shape with her hands.
“Hey what about me?” Poe asked from beside you with a pouty look on his face.
“What about you?” You giggled as he drew you closer by the waist and rested his chin on your head. “I’m just kidding, I love you too. Please look out for her up there.”
“You know I always do.” He smiled warmly at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then a final warning for pilots to get to their ships came onto the loud speaker, breaking the two of you apart.
“Ok, you have to go now.”
“Aye aye captain,” he grinned and pulled you back for another kiss. “I love you.” You watched and waved as the x-wings pulled out of the hangar and shot into the sky.
~
You stood with Leia and the other leaders of the Resistance in the command room (??) around the comms as the battle raged on far away in space.
“There’s a lot more tie fighters coming out of the destroyer Black Leader,” Bess said over the comms to Poe. Your knuckles turned white as your hands gripped the side of the table harder. Leia looked over at you and patted your hand comfortingly.
“They’ll be alright, they are both fantastic pilots. They’ll make it back ok.” You gave her a tight lipped smile in thanks, but somehow you weren’t reassured. You watched the panel that showed how many ships were still in action closely, thankful to see that Bess and Poe’s ships were not filled in with red.
“Alright guys, here’s the plan,” You heard Poe say to the rest of the squadron. “Javos and Kun you guys are going to swing right, Bess and Pava are going to swing left, and Snap and I will come on straight. Green Squadron will cover us. Got it?” A series of ‘copy’ followed Poe’s directions. Since you couldn’t be there to watch what was going on, all you could do was wait through the anxiety and just hope to whatever higher power that they would all turn out fine.
“Poe I don’t think it’s working! You’ve got about six of them on your tail! We’re trying, but we can’t hold off all of them!” Someone from Green Squadron yelled through the comms.
“We just have to keep going! If anyone sees the reactor, shoot it. I don’t care if you break formation!” Poe commanded the other pilots. “We don’t want to pull out of this without doing any damage!”
“I see it! I see it! I’m going in!” Bess shouted excitedly. Other officers in the room breathed a sigh of relief, if someone saw the reactor and was able to get a good shot at it, then the Resistance would be saved for now. But you kept your breath held in anticipation.
“Come on Bess, come on Bess...” you muttered under your breath. You knew that destroying this reactor was extremely important to the Resistance, but if it meant losing your sister, you’d rather the mission fail.
“I’m almost there... I’ll be in range in about four sec-” She was cut off before she could finish her sentence and crackling was left in place of her voice. “I’m hit! I’m hit! Right wing, blaster is down! I’ve only got one left!” She came back after a moment of white noise from her comms.
Your eyes went wide and you sucked in a harsh breath. You didn’t know what to do or what to think. If she wasn’t able to recover... you didn’t know what you would do.
“Bess! Pull out! Get away from there and give your droid the chance to fix it!” You commanded through the comms once you had pushed your way through the person communicating directly with them.
“I- I can’t y/n.” Her voice was barely a whisper and you knew exactly what she was going to do. “The damage is done and I’m too close. We won’t get a chance like this ever again.”
“Elizabeth please, I can’t live without you.” You pleaded with her as tears formed in your eyes.
“I’m sorry y/n, I love you always.”
“I love you too Bess-” You were cut off as the line went silent and you knew what had happened. Things moved in slow motion, everything around you became muffled and blurry. The strangled sound that you made was heart wrenching as you crumbled to the floor. You didn’t notice other officers in the room catch you as you fell or Leia come to comfort you. You didn’t hear Poe apologizing to you over the comms or hear other pilots saying that she did it or the order to return to base. All you could focus on was that your sister, your best friend, was gone and you were never going to see her again.
After some amount of time, someone exclaimed that the pilots were back and that the mission had been a success. But the mission hadn’t been a success. How could something be a win when you lost the single most important thing in your life? Yes the Resistance had been saved, but your life had been destroyed. You were unaware that you were moving and leaving the command center until you were inside the hangar and heading towards Poe’s x-wing.
He saw you walking towards him and starting moving your way to meet you. You didn’t see his puffy eyes or red face, all you saw was the face of a man who you had trusted everything with but had let you down in the worst way possible.
“Y/n I’m sorry I tried-” he reached out a hand for you but you slapped it away.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? You killed my sister!” You screamed at him. Angry tears were running down your face and your fists were clenched so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, sure to leave marks later on. “I trusted you! You were her commanding officer and you let her go into that and die! You promised me that you would protect her! But you didn’t, you sent her on a suicide mission! You told her that it was okay for her to try and hit that damned reactor! That wasn’t even her job!”
“Y/n please, I- I tried to save her. I didn’t mean for her to die. Bess-”
“Don’t you dare say her name! You don’t deserve to say her name after what you’ve done!” You cried angrily. You didn’t even know what was going on around you or what was happening. “You took her away from me! I’m never going to see her again because of you!” Suddenly your knees gave out and you fell to the floor in a fit of tears.
“Y/n please-” Poe pleaded with tears streaming down his own face as he tried to comfort you.
“Don’t touch me! I never want to speak to you again!” And then you were in Leia’s arms as you cried into her shoulder on the ground. She looked at Poe sorrowfully over your shoulder.
“Just give her time” She mouthed to him. He nodded, wiped the tears from his face, took one last look at you, and then headed off to the other direction away from you and Leia.
“Shh... it’s okay. Elizabeth died protecting those that she loved. She died a hero.” Leia murmured to you as she stroked your hair and comforted you in that way that only a mother can. After a moment you collected yourself and wiped your face.
“I’m sorry Leia, I just-”
“Shh darling, it’ll be alright. How about you get some rest and tomorrow we’ll talk?” You nodded and she got someone to bring you to your quarters. Once there you didn’t know what to do with yourself, so you just lay down in bed and let what tears were left roll down and onto your pillow. You didn’t know what was going to happen to you, or what was going to happen to you and Poe. But all you knew was that at least at the moment, you weren’t able to face Poe.
Although your sister was gone, it was some consolation that she had died a hero and died protecting everything and everyone she loved.
summary: Before Majora became a demon, he was a god. Before the Fierce Deity became a mask, he was a demon. Together, they have a favorite game to play.
(Also on AO3.)
* * * * *
“Okay! Let’s play good guys against bad guys.”
The words of the masked trickster came as the echoing of ringing bells, joyous and pleasant, but a wee bit off, a wee bit hollow. His legs carried the momentum of his small body forward and backward like the pendulum of a great clock as he swung sprightly from the one of the highest branches of a lofty tree, with seemingly no regard for the dangers that doing so might pose.
“Oh, c’mon! That again?” came the mildly annoyed reply from another in a space beneath him. This one wore a different kind of mask—the marks of a beast, though he in all other aspects appeared as nothing more than a mere boy. His disheveled, stark white hair stuck out against the natural colors of the surrounding wood, hands folded neatly at the nape of his neck, upper body lazily reclined against the tree’s wide trunk. A single, piercing red eye opened as he continued, half-groaning. “Can’t we do something else?”
In the blink of an eye, the masked one had stopped swinging; now, he sat perched precariously along that same branch, arms folded neatly across the tops of his knees. “What’s wrong?” he said, though his voice betrayed no sadness or concern. “Don’t you want to play? I thought you liked that game!”
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” said the red-eyed one, stifling a yawn, “but every time we play, I always end up losing.” He made to roll over onto his side in protest, but stopped when he felt a presence; sure enough, the masked one was now there on the ground, casting a shadow as he hovered over him enthusiastically.
“Well, the bad guys always lose,” came his cheery reply. Cheeriness that matched that of the mask he wore: the face of a young man, mouth locked in a broad, toothy grin, eyes closed blissfully and peacefully. A mask that had forever captured a moment of pure happiness. His absolute favorite. “That’s just how it works. Heh, heh!”
The red-eyed one exhaled in a deep huff, blowing strands of hair upwards and out of his face. Clearly, the impish character had entirely missed the point. “But why,” he began, standing up straight to face the other, “do I always have to be the bad guy?”
That made the trickster stop dead in his tracks. “Hmm...” He took a beat and spun around, and in the next moment, his mask had changed; now, he sported the face of a bemused Goron child, his hand raised up about his would-be cheek, fingers tapping rhythmically along it as if deep in thought. “Hmm, hmm, hmm!” He disappeared and reappeared in multiple places, feet tapping, body rocking, arms gesticulating wildly—then, an epiphany! He reappeared in front of the white-haired boy, his mask changed once more; this time it was that of a wide-eyed, portly woman, her mouth caught open in realization and excitement. “Oh! I know! It’s because you’re a demon, and demons are usually the bad guys! Right?”
A demon. Harsh words perhaps, but the absolute truth. His ivory hair and crimson eyes had been gifts from his mother, he was told. A servant of the Goddess. He had never known her—though, he had never known his father, either. But he didn’t need to know his father to know exactly what kind of man he was—or rather, what type of thing, because his gifts were far, far more apparent.
Indeed, it was the truth—and perhaps, on another day, in another place, with anyone else, it was a truth that would have stung. But the red-eyed boy had long grown used to the antics of his masked companion, and so instead:
He simply laughed.
“Pfffft! Yeah, yeah, okay. We both know it’s only because you’re a sore loser,” and he enunciated the you’re with a well-timed jab at the woman’s nose. A wide grin graced his face as he spoke - nothing like the fixed grin of the mask the trickster fancied, but a bona fide, genuine smile, revealing a rather impressive set of canines underneath. “Besides”—and he took a moment here to forcefully point at himself with a thumb—“this half-demon would be one heck of a good guy, if you ask me. Maybe even better than you.”
“Heh, heh! You really think so?” He was above him now, his body draped haphazardly along one of the tree’s lower branches, that happy, smiling mask of his returned. “In that case...how about...if you play the bad guy now, I promise I’ll let you be the good guy one day! ‘Kay?”
“Geez...” It was something that was inevitable, he knew, from the moment it had been spoken into existence. This game of theirs. Bad guy or not. A long, exaggerated sigh escaped from him as he collapsed onto the grassy hill below, the ghost of a smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth. Truth be told, it didn’t really bother him all that much either way. For a moment or two, he closed his eyes almost pensively—but the sound of something rustling soon caught his attention, and he looked up to see a smattering of leaves gently falling toward him, courtesy of the masked being he called his friend.
Friend.
For how long, now, had it just been the two of them? For how long had they had only each other, when it seemed the whole world had turned against them? A foul, loathsome monster doomed the moment he had been born into this world, and a faceless trickster god who delighted in wearing the faces of others. Outcasts. Unwanted and misunderstood. Years spent haplessly, constantly running, causing no shortage of fear and trouble wherever they went. Alone.
Until they had found each other.
Of course I’ll play with you, you numbskull.
All the same, he had so far put on a show of indifference, and his friend’s words had struck a chord with him. Could demons even be the good guys? He’d certainly never heard of such a thing. Perhaps he could be the first. Yes...he rather liked that idea. All he needed was the opportunity. He looked up once more, the slightest glimmer of a spark alit in his eyes.
“You promise?”
“Mm, hmm!” his masked friend chimed, appearing before him in mid-air, making a X-shape with a hand across his chest as he continued. “Cross my heart!”
“Fine, then.” A wickedly devilish grin, dogged and playful, crossed his face. Bad guy time. “Get ready, Majora!”
And then the boy rapidly began to change: messy hair gave way to tufts of spiked white fur, before quickly spreading to cover the rest of his body; long, pointed ears sprouted up from the top of his head, hands and feet reshaping into massive paws, a tail now where there before had not been one; the face of a human child now nothing more than the long and gnarled muzzle of a wild beast, mouth furled up into a ferocious snarl, revealing the set of jagged and razor-sharp teeth that lay therein. His eyes—pure white and infernal—accentuated by the navy and crimson markings along them. Father’s gifts. Even standing on all fours, he had grown no less than three times in size; any mortal man would have fled at the mere sight. But here, there were no mortal men. Here, it was only the two of them—for this was their playground.
And gods, did they play.
A piercing howl, like a wolf on the night of the full moon, split the air around them—and just like that they were off, all sprinting and claws and bursts of brilliant light, verdant fields folding and shifting like mere paper in the wind to suit their needs, the sound of vicious, thunderous growls and gleeful, childlike laughter exploding into the stratosphere. Perhaps, one day, theirs was a promise that would be fulfilled. Perhaps, one day, the beast would be able to walk away from this game of theirs and say that, at last, he had won. Perhaps—one day—they would be able to find out, together, whether or not a demon could truly be “good.”
But—for now—being the “bad guy” was more than good enough.
CW: Scat, incest, everything else. You’ve been warned. This was a collaboration with Smelliot the Slob, who is probably as dorky and gross in real life as the victims in the story.
Elliot came downstairs into the large living room. The room was split into the lounge area and kitchen in one room. In the corner he could see his father, Dan in the corner instructing one of his private clients. Reaching into the fridge Elliot pulled out the milk and poured himself a large glass before taking a long swig of it.
Dan counted off on his hands as the patron was on the ground doing a pushup. "Come on! Keep pushing! Don't give up now man, you don't want to end up flabby do you?"
“It’s hard Dan!” The patron said as he struggled. He looked up and saw Elliot. Everyone saw the patron as just an out of shape middle aged man but none could see him for what he really was. A being of pure chaos who could shape reality just using his words. This time, his target was Dan, the hottest personal trainer in town and his equally hot son Elliot. “This must be your son! There’s definitely a family resemblance!”
Elliot smiled and gave a thumbs up "Alright dude."
Dan turned and smiled "Yes, very proud of my boy, and he and I worked hard for our bodies. You can too. It is hard, but the rewards are worth it, so keep pushing!"
“I am!” said the patron. “Maybe if you were wearing your glasses you could see how hard I was trying” A pair of thick hornrimmed glasses appears on an end table. Elliot frowned at this but Dan just reaches over to the end table to grab his glasses and slide them on his face. "Since when did you wear glasses dad?"
Dan threw a bewildered look at his son. "I've always worn glasses." This caused Elliot to mimic Dan's bewildered expression.
“Whew Dan! Could you close your mouth?” begged the patron. “Those crooked yellow teeth are so hard to look at and your breath is so foul I bet your son can smell it from across the room!”
Elliot frowned. “Watch your tone buddy!" Clearly the lad was getting upset at someone insulting his dad, although he did a double take as he saw his dad’s now yellowed teeth.
"Well I need to open it to keep you motivated. Maybe it will motivate you to work harder."
“P.U.! That’s an awfully condescending tone for someone with such a big gut too!”
Elliots eyes widened in shock as he saw his father bloat up, gaining layer upon layer of fat, thighs thickening along with his arms, a large flabby gut pushing out. "What the fuck!?" Elliot quickly started to go for the phone presumably to dial 911. Dan patted his stomach. "Mm, but I am proud of my belly, you want to get rid of yours."
“Honestly I think that’s about all I have in me for today. Didn’t you say you wanted to show me the computers you had been building in the gym you turned into a study?”
Dan nodded and started to waddle off with you following him. Elliot however had other plans. "What the hell is going on!?" He asks aloud, phone in his hand. "Someone explain or I am calling 911."
“Oh please you’re just as clumsy as your old man!” the patron laughed. Dan stumbled and tripped over his own feet and Elliot, in a moment of unusual clumsiness, dropped his phone right into the sink full of dishes. Elliot swore as he fished for the phone but it was ruined as it came out.
"What are you doing?" Elliot asked as Dan got his balance back.
“I’m just hanging out with my friend Dan, which is honestly pretty charitable on my part. After all, he may have stopped working out and put on a lot of weight, but he still has the body odor and sweatiness of an entire weightlifting team.”
Dan sniffed at his armpits, smelling his sweaty BO. "Man, I do smell bad don't I?" Elliot had to cover his nose as the room became overpowered by it.
"You're doing something to him! Fine, if I can't call the police I'll go get help." He marches towards the door with purpose.
“Aw but you’ve always liked guys who stink terribly I thought,” the patron said with a grin.
Elliot has stopped covering his nose and is clearly breathing normally. "I mean...sure it's nice but you can't be changing my dad."
“Oh don’t worry, I’m doing more than that. Say, did you happen to pick up your old man’s lice shampoo?”
"I did but...hey wait, since when does dad have lice?" He asked as he saw his dad was now scratching at his hair.
“Since forever! The shampoo doesn’t even really do anything other than leave his hair super greasy but we have to keep trying. That’s what your father told me anyways, even though it took forever with his terrible stutter!”
"I just wish it didn't make his hair greasy." Elliot commented as Dan's hair became very greasy. "and dad you really should see a speech therapist."
Dan nodded. "Y-you got t-t-t-hat right sss-ss-son."
“I don’t know why you’re so concerned. I heard you liked greasy haired fatsos with lice and stutters”
Elliot’s face flushed red and he was glad his lower body was obscured by the counter (“Whatcha hiding there Elliot? I bet it’s a big old hard on just like your dad always has. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a man cum his pants as often as your father”
The front of Dans pants grew damp as Elliot’s face flushed some more. "Its uh...I just woke up, I had an intense dream." He lied, a little ashamed that his father got him aroused.
“It’s a good thing your dad only wears these cheap thrift store khakis and white socks all the time or it would be a shame that he’s constantly wetting himself. At least they look nice with his button down and suspenders!”
Elliot’s mouth fell open at his dads new outfit. "He looks ridiculous like that!" He says as Dan plays with his suspenders and straightens his bow tie.
“Oh please,” laughed the patron. “Everyone knows this is the hottest way a man can dress. And the pants are so cheap, it doesn’t even matter if your dad is usually carrying a few turds in the back”
Elliot blinked as something came over him. "I mean, at least he's dressing in something attractive...despite the shit and piss."
“Come on, the shit and piss make him unique and kind of even hotter!”
Elliot bit his lower lip as he turned around, hoping to stop his large erection. The patron grinned and continued to weave a new reality with his words.
“But I mean you would expect someone to shit themselves every once in a while considering that Dan—errr Dilbert here never stops farting. Phew, it smells like someone threw a hundred hard boiled eggs in a dumpster on a hot summer day in here!”
Dilbert let out a loud smelly fart as a log of shit filled his underwear. Elliots nostrils flared heard the fart, but did not complain about the stench. "Yeah..." he stated nervously.
“Wow” the patron said as he finally peered insides Dilbert’s computer room. “This is the nerdiest room I’ve ever seen, well not counting the rest of the your house I mean. I’ve never seen someone with so many comic books, fantasy novels, and empty pizza boxes!”
Dilbert nodded proudly. "I l-l-love my c-c-c-c-comics! I also a-a-dore pizza. B-b-but I need to u-use my z-z-z-zit cream after eating it to a-a-a-void breakout out."
“Oh yeah it was such a mistake to shave your beard, Dilbert. Your skin broke out so bad after that. Plus look at how bad your insanely large ears and nose look without the beard to distract!”
Dan's beard quickly pulled into his now softer jaw as his skin breaks out in bad acne, white headed zits appearing over his face as his ears got larger and started to stick out. With a snort his nose inflated to a pudgy schnoz.
“And honestly Dilbert, I think you should talk to your orthodontist because considering how big and clunky your headgear is, those two giant buck teeth should be looking better by now”
Dilbert’s cheeks blushed and he adjusted a screw on his braces. "I c-c-cant help it" he whined quite pathetically before his belly rumbled, he let out a loud belch right into your face, the smelly fishy breath was heavy with the scent of pizza and fast food.
“Aw well hopefully there’s a man that appreciates all this out there somewhere. I know how desperate you are for a boyfriend!”
Dilbert looked down at the floor as the front of his pants grow wet again and the smell of urine filled the air. "But w-w-who would d-d-date a l-l-l-losher like me." He looked sad when he admitted he was a loser.
“I’m sure there’s someone out there who is into disgusting dweebs like you.” The patron looked up with a grin at Elliot. “Say don’t you think it’s time your son got his favorite meal. A hot pocket that got your cum and piss all over it?”
The patron’s words made this a reality and Elliot shrugged as if it was normal. "I am pretty hungry dad..." With that Dilbert waddled over and stuck a hot pocket into the microwave. After a few minutes he pulled out the turnover and put it down on the floor. Pulling out his smaller, but hard dick he proceeds to piss over it, a little jerking and globs of cum also cover the treat. He places it down in front of his son who just picks up a knife and fork and starts to take bites.
“Wow Elliot you sure look hungry! I bet it’s from looking at all those posters up in your room. Of those pretty ladies? No wait, that’s not right, you have posters of fat nerds, guys covered in their own pee and cum, ugly pimple faced four eyes, isn’t that right?”
Elliots cheeks burn as he takes another bite, it was true, but he didn't want to show that he was embarassed about it. So he decided to downplay it. "Yeah, I'm into fat nerds. What of it?"
“It just seems like considering your father, it must be kind of a bummer that you aren’t one too. I mean he’s so pathetic and you’re this hot perfect jock. It must just be unbearable not having inherited his extremely geeky genes. It must just drive you nuts. Plus according to your journal, it looks like no matter how hard you beat off, you can’t cum. I bet that’s because you know you need to be a total nerd first.”
Elliot took another bite, this time slower and more thoughtful. "Yeah....dad says I take after mom. I mean look at him. Look at what a loser he is. Who wouldn't want that?"
“I bet you pray every night to become a loser like him. I bet you would give up everything for a chance at that huh?”
"You bet I would! I even looked into a laser eye surgery to see if they'd ruin my vision. Sadly they weren't interested, nor was the plastic surgeon. Besides, dad is lonely now, he has no one."
“Yeah I mean compared to your dad, you’re so cool. Even with the nerdiest bedroom I’ve ever seen. And your bedroom is so so dorky. Dirty clothes everywhere. Three computers. Chess club trophies. Pokémon sheets. It’s amazing you’re as jacked as you are considering how much you love chess.”
"Well, they are online chess trophies. My room is an expression of who I wish I was. Even dad gets jealous. I tell my friends I have a cool room and I play my guitar every night. Well...its not a guitar. It's an accordion."
“Yeah your dad told me you basically never stop playing accordion. That it’s one of the only ways to drown out the noise of your incessant farts.”
A large blasting fart escaped from Elliot's rear, filling the already smelly room with his own gas. "It was no surprise, they did say the chronic flatulence was hereditary."
“The farts are one thing but hoowee the rest! Your BO and halitosis put your father’s to shame.”
"Well, I hate taking showers...and eating these special hot pockets don't help my halitosis. Not that I don't want them, they are my favourite!"
“I know and considering they’re all you eat, it’s no wonder you’ve inherited your father’s.... rather ample physique.”
As the patron’s words changed Elliot’s body, he pat his new belly as he sat there changed, a lardass like his father. “Mmm, I know! I'm a fussy eater...its embarassing you don't need to rub it in."
“Not as embarrassing as the way you rub all the piss from your pants in your hair all the time. It just makes you stink worse and, despite what you read on the web, it’s not gonna do anything to help your lice problem.”
Elliot’s belly rumbled and he lets out a loud fart as his hair grows greasy and lice infested. Reaching into his pants he cups his hand and pisses into it. "But the website said it helped with lice." With that he wet his hair with the piss he cupped.
“The only effect it seems to be having is making your skin break out worse and worse and worse. God you have bigger pimples than even your father does!”
A grin crossed Elliot’s face. "A side effect I didn't expect but I am delighted about. Even if it doesn't help my lice, if it helps keep these zits, just try and stop me."
“I don’t wanna stop you or get anywhere near those zits. I bet they’re so bad because you like squirting the zit pus into a glass and drinking it. That can’t be good for your skin.”
Elliot licked his lips as the patron’s words became law. “Mm, I am thirsty...and I've been milking these babies for months. I'm due a treat." He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a jug with a label reading 'Elliots zit pus, DO NOT TOUCH'. He lifted it to his lips and took some gulps before returning it to the fridge.
“Yeah I mean why do you think I’m wearing rubber boots? Gotta protect myself from the inches of piss, cum, shit and pus that are just sloshing around on your floor!”
Elliot blushed. ”That’s thanks to dad, and sometimes I miss the jar. It’s why I am wearing rubber boots too." A loud fart rumbled from his rear, the heavy aroma stinging the patron’s nostrils
“Wow, well you really do outpace your father in terms of fart stink. And BO. And halitosis. You really do smell terrible. It’s a bummer you can’t close your mouth with those giant yellow buck teeth with the huge gap between them.”
Elliot grinned as the patron brought up his overbite. His front teeth almost looked like fangs with the space between them. "Dad jokes you could drive a train through the gap."
“I mean combined with your giant nose and those big ears, you really look like such a geek. Not that you’d know it since you don’t even have your glasses on. Where did they go? Ah!” The patron sees them sitting in a puddle of cum and piss, the lenses several inches thick and the frames more duct tape than plastic at this point.
Elliot shivered and rubbed at his fat nose, it was even bigger than his dad’s. He absentmindedly wiggled his ears as his vision blurred. "Can you see them? Where did I put them? I'm blind as a bat without them!”
“They’re down there. By your feet. I won’t pick them up so don’t even ask. Besides your tight little nasal passages make your voice so whiny that I can barely stand to hear it. It’s amazing you can breathe at all.”
With another rumble, Elliot opened his mouth letting out a loud belch. He leaned down, his breathing heavier as he picked up the glasses, and without even wiping them putsthem on his nose. "SNORT there we go. I'm always SNORT losing my glasshes, or SNORT breaking them."
“They’re in such bad shape, i imagine they’re a pair of your dads old glasses. Makes sense since you wear all of his clothes too. I’ve heard of hand me downs but you know you’re supposed to wash them right? Instead, you just put on his soiled clothes from the day before and go about your business.”
"We don't have a washing machine..." he adjusted the suspenders, the khaki shorts he was wearing clearly had a dried cum and piss stain on the front, and the back of them looked more brown than khaki. The button up shirt had food and piss stains on it as well as a collection of dried boogers here and there.
“It’s probably for the best considering you shit yourself much more frequently and with much bigger loads than your father does.”
A loud fart escaped him but Elliot seemed to follow through on this one as the back of his pants expanded a little and turned a deeper brown, the rear starting to steam a little from the shit. SPLOOSH...SPLASH, some remnants fell out of the the short legs and splashed in the room size puddle.
“God that smells so bad. Good thing your father had the foresight to name you Smelliot! He must have known you’d be like this.”
He chuckled but it turned more into a series of snorts. "Daddy likes to say I came out shitting so thus the name."
“And you’re so proud of it too. Is that why you’re always pulling your slimy shit stained underpants up into an atomic wedgie?”
"Oh SNORT yesh!" another fart escaped him, the splashing of shit hitting the liquid echoing around the room. "Although it's SNORT much more fun if SNORT it is someone else giving me a SNORT wedgie."
“Well gosh, that sounds like something that’s a perfect bonding activity for father and son.”
The patron turns to Dilbert, seeing he's been busy reading a comic book on the couch in his room, his feet gently disturbing the liquid on the floor. He let out a fart as a stream of yellow piss also slid down his left leg.
“Hey Dilbert. Isn’t it time for you and your son to give each other atomic wedgies so you can see who has the most shit caked undies?”
Dilbert tossed the comic onto the couch and got up, waddling over to Smelliot. A lump formed in the front of Smelliot’s khakis. Both seem to do this like it was a routine, each of them reaching into the others pants, getting a grip on their underwear, and then with a quick count down the two pull, the messy underwear being pulled up. At one time both were probably white but were now more a yellowish with brown stains. Smelliot’s undies were worse on account of them being hand me downs.
“Wow if it weren’t for the stink, I would say someone had poured a few gallons of mud in your pants Smelliot. You’re definitely outpacing your old man.”
Dilbert pouted but then let out a crooked yellow smile
"T-t-the d-d-d..." he took a breath. "d-d-d..." a fart escapes his rear as he also fills his pants with steamy shit, "d....doctorrs! did ss-s-say that the conditions are more s-s-severe for the of-of-ofsp-ofsp...the children"
"It's so nice to see a father and a son get along so well. Is it true that for snacks, you guys pick each others ears and noses and eat each other's boogers and earwax?"
Both nodded as Smelliot digs a fat finger into his fathers nose, a slimey snotty booger pops out and he licked it off, a grin crossing his face. "Y-you bet. B-besides the h-h-hot pockets, i-its all he'll eat."
"You're looking pretty hungry yourself, Dilbert. Didn't you say your son makes you a special pizza that you just can't resist?"
Dilbert rubbed his rumbly tummy and nodded. "Y-yes. I s-s-should c-call the pizza place."
Dilbert waddled over to the computer and booted up the EatingOut app, pulling up his previous order of two cheese pizzas. His history seemed to indicate he ordered this every day...
"Well you certainly have the body and cleanliness of a man who eats pizza every day! I'm excited to see what makes it so special!"
"T-they say it w-w-will be here in an h-h-hour." He stuttered as he pissed the front of his pants again.
An hour passed with the father and son feeding each other their boogers before the doorbell rang. Dilbert waddled, the last few steps cause him to blast a fart out into the room. Grabbing the doorknob he twisted it, the door swinging open. "H-h-h-h..salutations!"
The pizza delivery guy recoiled from the stench, almost ready to barf and bail.
"Ah good," said the patron. "I hear the pizza guy in this town loves nerds too and really loves watching you eat pizza so much, that he gives them to you for free!"
The pizza delivery guy laughed and handed the pizzas to Dilbert. "Oh yeah if you haven't seen the way these dorks eat pizza, you are in for a real shock."
Dilbert blushed as he saw the tent the man is now sporting. Carrying the pizza boxes over to Smelliot, Dilbert asked, "S-s-s-sss-smelliot? C-can you p-p-put daddy's f-favoruite toppings on?"
Smelliot smiled and nodded. "Oh SNORT yeth Daddy! I know SNORT how much you SNORT love it!" He put the pizzas down on the coffee table and opened them, sniffing them. Unhooking his suspenders he let the khakis fall into the wet puddles on the floor, and pulled down the front of his tightly-not-so-whities. All it took was a few jerks and he exploded cum all over the pizzas like a special sauce. Then he turned around and with a fart let globs of shit fall on the pizzas.
Dilbert smiled and took a deep sniff. “Mmm, smells delicious." He took up a slice that got nice and coated with his son's cum and shit and took a bite, munching happily.
The pizza delivery guy just chuckled and laughed. "Now you see why I don't even make them pay. I love seeing that!" The pizza delivery guy rubbed the front of his pants until he came in them and then headed back to his truck.
"H-h-he's alway s-s-s-so nice." Dilbert farted while Smelliot started to play his accordion expertly.
"Wow your accordion playing sounds so good Smelliot. Is it true that your father has learned to blast his massive farts in time with the music?"
Dilbert and Smelliot nodded and exchanged a look. Smelliot changes=d the tune to something a bit more upbeat. Dilbert started to let out farts of different sizes in tune with the music, creating an almost percussive backing to the accordion. Smelliot farted and shit his pants as he played, the farts starting to make the room smell absolutely foul. With a flourish and a long fart the two finished their routine.
"Well, that was just wonderful. You too are just so in synch! It's a real shame that you're both so lonely and unlucky in love. I know that your son loves big fat farting nerds, but is it true that you like them as well Dilbert?"
Dilbert noded and licked his lips "Mm, y-y-y-y affirmative! I love big fat loser nerds!" A smile crossed his face as he came in his pants.
"That's such a shame then that Smelliot is your son! Except, well, I mean it really doesn't matter does it? Love is love and you two ARE perfect for each other. And your son is an adult, albeit a pathetically nerdy shit stained one, so shouldn't he be able to date his own father if he wants to?"
Dilbert slowly nodded as if coming to a realisation. "S-s-s-ss-sure! L-love is love."
Smelliots eyes widened. "But SNORT..." a fart escaped him. "Incest is..." he was quickly interrupted.
"Incest is perfectly fine if it's what you really want Smelliot and you do want it. You both want it!"
The body language between father and son instantly changed. Both not looking at each other, exchanging side glances, but turning away whenever they met each others eyes. Gently Dilbert reached down and squeezed his son's hand. Smelliot farted and shit his pants. "D-daddy.."
“Y-y-you are such a p-p-p-pathetic dweeb." Dilbert said before pressing his puffy lips against his son's, their pudgy noses pushing together, orthodontic headgear clacking together.
Smelliot belched into the kiss, but broke away. "Mmm SNORT...Pokémon bed?" Dilbert nodded and chuckled "You're such a dork!" The father and son held hands as they waddled towards Smelliots bedroom. The patron followed father and son up to Smelliot's bedroom and watched the two get into it.
The nerds peeled off their clothes, exposing their naked, unwashed, flabby bodies to each other, both of them cumming right there and then. Smelliot rolled onto his bed, the frame sagging from his weight. His dorky daddy climbing onto the bed, grinning as his pathetic member was so close to his son's messy, dirty shit chute.
The Patron smiled and with a click pictures of the slobby nerds appeared around the house, one of them a particular picture of them kissing, in dirty suits...in a chapel.
"I love you my stinky son hubby." and with that he rammed his hard member into his son's rear, blasting the shitty hole with gallons of nerdy cum before pulling out, inserting his giant pimpled nose, and blowing thick jets of snot into his son’s asshole. The patron grinned and disappeared, his work here done. He checked the list of other personal trainers with sons in the city and figured out his next target.
Summary: Junna and Nana have a heart to heart. Futaba and Claudine take them shopping. It’s an adventure.
Featuring Trans!Nana and NB!Junna
Picture of Junna’s and Nana’s outfits!
“Oh my,” Kaoruko said as Junna stepped into the classroom. “Isn’t that an impressive sight?”
Junna paused, eyes flicking between the door and the grinning Kaoruko. Did she dare ask, or did she escape while she still could? Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. It was dress rehearsal for their two week play of Romeo and Juliet, and as one of the leads, she absolutely couldn’t miss it.
“...Excuse me?” Junna finally asked, bracing herself for the answer.
“I’m talking about your outfit, of course,” Kaoruko said, waving a hand at Junna’s clothing choice. In a two week play, there wasn’t time for Class B to design and sew costumes; instead, each actress was told to wear whatever she owned that fit the role. For Junna, that meant dressing as Romeo.
It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone that Junna had scored a lead role, not in a Shakespeare play. What had been a shock was Hikari snatching the role of Juliet. Most of the class had expected Nana to play opposite Junna in a love story, including Nana herself. Junna had been the one to veto the idea.
“Kagura-san knows Shakespeare better,” Junna had argued, pointedly not looking at Nana. And it was true, to the dismay of the rest of the class. They had to remind Junna and Hikari every single practice session that no one else knew the lines in English, and to please follow the Japanese script. Nana stayed quiet the whole time, standing off to the side with her script dangling from her fingers. It didn’t take long to memorize the handful of lines of a background character.
Junna still had to apologize for that. She found Nana on the other side of the room, watching her with a surprised expression. Junna sent her a small smile before turning back to Kaoruko.
“What about my outfit?” she asked. It was a fairly simple affair, she thought. Dark blue button down shirt, a pair of old jeans, and the school’s standard, white and red gym shoes.
“Well first off, it’s hideous,” Kaoruko said.
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Futaba chimed in, joining the pair. The rest of the group was starting to trickle over too, like moths to a flame. Maybe one day that fire would be stoked by something other than the potential for Junna’s embarrassment.
“It’s in character,” Junna argued. “Romeo was a rich teenage boy who liked running around the streets flirting with girls. He would have owned nice clothes, and he would have worn them to impress said girls, but even he wouldn’t have wanted to wear dress pants when walking outside all day, hence he would have--”
“Romeo’s dead,” Futaba said.
“W-well…” Junna stumbled to a halt. “That’s- that’s not relevant, and also not accurate, he was never technically alive in the first place--”
“More importantly,” Kaoruko interrupted, regaining control of the conversation. “I want to know how you did that!” Kaoruko exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Junna’s chest.
“...What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’? We’ve had numerous discussions about this, Junna-han! You have the biggest chest in the dorm, and you just walked in flat as a board. What gives!”
“...Oh.” Junna ran a hand down her chest. It wasn’t truly flat, not really, but the shirt was loose enough to mask the little shape there was.
“That is pretty impressive,” Claudine agreed. Maya and Hikari nodded. Nana was still hanging back, just a bit, but she seemed intrigued as well.
“I like it!” Karen announced, bouncing up and down. “You look like a boy! It’s cool!”
Junna rolled her eyes. “It’s just a binder. A compression shirt. It’s nothing special.”
“Why do you own a binder?” Mahiru asked.
“Why not?”
“Um…”
“‘Cause most 17 year old girls don’t own that stuff?” Claudine tried. “Did you buy this for the play?”
“No, of course not. I’ve owned this for years.”
“Junna-han, you’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met.”
“Wait a sec,” Futaba said, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard by the rest of the class. “Is this a boy thing? Like, are you a weird girl, or are you, actually, you know.”
Junna stared blankly at Futaba. It took several seconds for her to realize what Futaba was trying to imply. “Oh. Oh, no. I don’t care.”
“What do you mean, you don’t care?”
Everyone was looking at her in varying states of confusion and concern. Junna sighed. Was it really such a hard concept to grasp?
“Boy or girl,” Junna stated firmly, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t see a difference. I’m Hoshimi Junna. I’m me. That’s all that’s important.”
“Oooooooh!” Karen clapped at the declaration. Mahiru and Hikari shook their heads.
“Fair enough,” Futaba shrugged.
“You’re still a weird person,” Kaoruko decided.
“No weirder than the rest of you,” Junna said. “Now come on, we should start rehearsal.”
She pushed past the group and made her way to the stage. It didn’t bother her, saying that stuff out loud. Junna had made up her mind long ago that if she decided something, she would follow that decision with confidence. She couldn’t move forward if she wavered.
Still, the support of her friends meant more than she would say. It warmed her; lifted a weight of her shoulders. Junna held on that feeling. Memorized it. Then, finally, she let herself acknowledge the thought tingling in the back of her mind:
Nana was frowning the whole time…
Nana was nervous. Nana was nervous about so many things, she didn't know where to begin. Half of them were surely nothing more than her overthinking, repeating tiny thoughts over and over until they snowballed into something too big to ignore. The other half... well, the other half was probably the same, if she was honest. Meaningless little moments that got stuck in her head. She needed to shake them out, needed this lump in her throat to melt, needed to stop being so--
"Nana?"
Nana jumped. Junna's questioning look started to turn into one of concern, and Nana felt her heart drop. She threw on a bright smile, hoping Junna wouldn't notice her trembling lips. "It's fine, it's fine! You startled me, is all. What's up?"
But of course, Junna noticed.
She took a moment to think, tapping her fingers against the desk. Nana sat on the edge of her bed and waited, trying not to fidget. Junna liked to get her thoughts in order before she spoke, liked to arrange her words so they meant exactly what she wanted them to mean, nothing more, nothing less.
Sometimes, Nana tried to picture what the inside of Junna’s brain must be like. A library, for sure. Shelves and shelves of words, all carefully organized. She imagined Junna walking down the halls, stacks of books rising far above her head, carefully inspecting each and every one.
In contrast, Nana’s head felt like a complete and utter mess. Like a bunch of monkeys wreaking havoc on a grocery store in their search for bananas, and the janitor had quit long ago. Seventeen years of life and an extra fifty on top, and still she could never match Junna. And there the nervousness rose up again like a wave, threatening to drown her:
Was Junna getting bored of her?
Beautiful, intelligent, perfect Junna. Nana knew it was unfair, knew Junna would scold her if she could hear her thoughts, but sometimes Nana wondered if she was worthy to stand next to Junna on stage. After all, Junna hadn’t wanted Nana to play opposite her in Romeo and Juliet. And she had never once mentioned feeling like--
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh?” Nana stared up at Junna, uncomprehending.
Junna took a deep breath and continued. “I should have said this earlier, and I apologize for that too. But… you’re upset that I didn’t want you to play Juliet, right?”
“...Mm.” Nana wrapped her arms around herself, looking down at the floor. “But that’s alright. You love Shakespeare. It’s only natural that you’d want the best person to be your partner, and Hikari-chan is certainly that.”
“It has nothing to do with talent,” Junna said firmly. She sat down in Nana’s chair, reaching for Nana’s hands and holding them tightly in her own, waiting patiently for Nana to look back at her. “It’s nothing to do with talent,” she repeated again when Nana did, gentler this time. “Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy. More than that, it’s a tragedy masquerading as a love story. Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want you playing a role in something like that. I don’t want you to play any more tragedies.”
Starlight was a tragedy. Starlight hurt. Nana hadn’t even thought about the pain intrinsic to Romeo and Juliet, the pain she’d have to act out over and over and over again, but Junna… Junna was always looking out for her. Always, always, always.
“Sorry,” Junna said, running her thumbs over Nana’s knuckles as a few tears slipped down Nana’s face. “I’ll explain myself better next time, promise.”
“Thank you,” Nana whispered. If she were better with words, she’d say all the many things she was thankful for, but for now she left it at that and trusted Junna to understand.
Junna smiled. “Good now?” she asked, squeezing Nana’s hands. “Or is there something else?”
Nana felt her chest tighten. There was something else, of course there was something else, but it was still too new. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to risk ruining the balance Junna had created.
Balance. How could she maintain it? Junna had given it to her, so she must give it back.
“You first,” Nana said. “Is there anything you want to talk about first?”
“So,” Futaba said, hanging upside down off Claudine’s bed. “Junna, huh?”
Claudine snorted. “What a loser. That stage kiss with Hikari? Worst thing I’ve ever seen. The teacher should have let me demonstrate, I could absolutely do better!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re better than all of us at everything. But that’s not what I was talking about. What’d you think about Junna’s little speech?”
“That gender stuff? Seemed like pretty standard Hoshimi Junna to me. I don’t think she gives a shit about anything not stage related.” Claudine turned a page in her fashion magazine, frowning as she saw the cost of a pair of glittery heels. Not that she couldn’t afford them, of course, but what kind of statement would they make? She didn’t want someone like Tendo Maya to think she was trying too hard. “Or Banana related,” she added as afterthought. “The stage and Banana: her two passions.”
“Sounds about right. Hey, isn’t Banana trans too?”
“Probably. Not that I’ve ever asked her, of course.”
“Kaoruko keeps complaining that Banana never joins her in the bath.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. No one in their right mind would join Kaoruko in the bath.”
“Yeah…” Futaba sighed. She slid farther off the bed, hair brushing the floor. Claudine had talked her ear off about clothes earlier, and now, caught up in it, she was scrolling through pictures of high tops on her phone. “You know, I bet Junna’d look pretty good with more boyish clothes.”
“You’re just upset that your attempts at making Tendo Maya butch failed.”
“No, I’d say you’re the one upset about that.”
“Hah? Excusez moi?”
“You want to see Tendo wear a tux just as much as the rest of us, don’t deny it.”
Claudine stayed resolutely silent, flipping faster through her magazine. She didn’t need to see Futaba’s face to know she was smirking. “You realize,” she finally said, refusing to let Futaba win the conversation, “if you want Junna to be your backup butch, you’re going to have to dress her yourself. She has 0 sense of style.”
“Hey, I’ll do it. At least she won’t make me spend an hour in the lingerie section like Kaoruko does.” Futaba pulled herself onto the bed, thinking through the idea. “That could be good, actually, taking her shopping. Show that we’re supportive friends.”
“Are we though?”
“We’re supportive.”
“But are we friends?”
Futaba shrugged. “Probably?”
“Hm.” Claudine closed her magazine and looked up at Futaba. “If you’re making Junna butch, I want to make Banana femme. With those legs of hers, she could rock a miniskirt.”
“Hell yeah. Shopping trip it is then.”
“If we call this a double date, will Kaoruko hire a hitman to kill me?”
“Would you care if she did?”
“I dare her to.”
“Then sure, double date it is.”
“Is there something else?” Junna asked. It was rarely just one thing with Nana, Junna had learned. Nana had too many layers. Too many thoughts all piled up on top of each other. It took time for Junna to untangle them all.
After a moment, Nana replied: “You first. Is there anything you want to talk about first?”
That was a yes, then. A yes, Nana did have something, but she didn’t want to bring it up, and she was hoping Junna would get distracted and forget. If Junna was smart, she’d say no. She’d say that she was fine, and start coaxing the problem out of Nana. If she was smarter, she’d say yes. She’d say yes, she did have something, and they would talk it out and reach a mutual understanding. Surely it would be better for both of them. Surely it was the right decision. The smart decision.
Sometimes, Junna hated being smart.
“Actually…” she began, hesitantly, unused to opening up like this.
Nana seemed surprised too. “Actually?” she pressed, leaning forward.
Junna took a steadying breath. “I wanted to talk about what I said in class today. Or rather, I think I should, just to… to clear up any confusion. If you had any.”
Nana froze, and it clicked for Junna, then, that this was likely the second thing Nana wanted to talk about. She should have guessed it earlier. In that case, talking about it was for the best, she told herself. Two birds with one stone.
“I’m not… confused about it,” Nana said slowly. “If that’s the way you feel, then that’s the way you feel! And I’ll support you! But...”
“But?” Junna asked, holding her relief at bay until she heard the rest of the story.
“But…” Nana chewed her lip, staring off into the distance. Finally she gave a sheepish smile and said, “you never told me about it.”
Ah.
Now Junna understood.
What a fool she was.
“Not- not that you had to, of course!” Nana was quick to add. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to! I just would have thought, since I’m…”
“That’s why, actually,” Junna said, finally relaxing. Nana wasn’t upset with her. Not that Junna would have expected her to be, but it was always better to hear it said. Now all she had to do was explain her thoughts. That wasn’t a problem. “For you, the distinction between being a girl or a boy is important, right? If someone called you a boy, you’d be upset. And rightfully so! But for me, it’s meaningless. I could go my whole life being a called a boy, and I doubt I’d care. So while we’re similar in some ways, in other ways we’re completely different. I didn’t want you to think that because I felt my way, you had to feel that way too. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh.” Nana frowned, thinking it over.
“Make sense?” Junna asked. It was completely logical, in her opinion. Whether or not she was supposed to be this logical over a decision with emotional impact was a question she wasn’t going to answer.
“Yep!” Nana said, bright and shining once again. “Junna-chan is always looking out for me, huh?”
“Of course!” Junna was grinning now too, unable to help herself when faced with the sun that was Nana. “I’m the class president, after all!”
“You’re the president of my heart,” Nana said with a terrible attempt at a serious expression.
Junna snorted, reaching forward to poke Nana in the stomach. “I think that’s the worst pickup line yet.”
“Aw, Junna-chan! Well, what if I just pick you up then?”
Nana’s hands were on her waist before she could react, pulling her into the bed. Junna was laughing; Nana was, too, both of them giddy with the relief that comes after important discussions. Everything was fine now, Junna thought as Nana pulled her into a kiss. There was nothing more to worry about.
“Rise and shine, losers, we’re going shopping!” Claudine shouted as she threw the door open. “Come on, up! Up!”
“Believe me, Saijo-san, I would if I could,” Junna said, her voice muffled by Nana’s arm thrown over her face. It was Sunday morning, and instead of her usual Sunday morning breakfast routine, Nana had opted for crawling into bed with Junna and cuddling close. An hour later and she had managed to roll herself sideways across the bed, half on top of Junna and her legs halfway to the floor. Claudine bit back her laughter at the sight.
“Should I take a picture, or?”
“You can do whatever you want if you get her off me.”
“Ah, young love.” Claudine snapped a photo of Junna’s annoyed glare, then went to free her from her banana scented prison. She grabbed hold of Nana’s shoulders, rolling her off Junna and wincing as Nana rolled right onto the floor. “Oops. She’s a heavy sleeper, huh?”
“In all senses of the word.” Junna sighed in relief and sat up, rubbing her stiff neck. “What did you say about shopping?”
“Oh, right! Futaba and I are taking you two clothes shopping.”
“...Why?”
“Because we want to.”
“That’s not a very convincing argument.”
“Hey, without me you’d still be trapped in bed. You owe me now.”
“Fair enough.” Junna frowned at Nana, poking her with her foot. “Nana. Are you seriously still asleep?”
“Maybe,” came the mumbled reply. Nana blearily opened her eyes, smiling as the first thing she saw was Junna’s face. “Good morning, Junna-chan!”
“You almost smothered me again, you know.”
“That’s because Junna-chan is really comfy!”
Junna let out a heavy sigh. “We’ll be down soon, Saijo-san.”
Looking at Nana’s sleepy face, Claudine wasn’t quite sure she believed them. Well, if anyone was trustworthy in this dorm, it was Junna. “Don’t take too long, we have a lot of shopping to do! Oh, and make sure you bring your binder.”
Junna looked at her in surprise. “What? Why?”
“Are we-” Nana yawned, blinking a few a times to wake herself up. “Are we doing a play?”
“No, Futaba wants to dress Junna like a boy.”
“Oooh, good idea! Boyish Junna-chan is cute!”
“This is because of what I said a couple days ago, isn’t it?” Junna asked, already knowing the answer.
“Could be,” Claudine answered, shrugging. “Or it’s Futaba being lonely ‘cause she has no other butch in the dorm. I still haven’t figured out which it is.”
“Hm. Well, I don’t mind wearing it, so that’s fine.”
“Fantastique!”
Nana hummed the whole way to the store, holding Junna’s hand and swinging it back and forth as they walked.
“You seem happy,” Junna commented. “Do you really enjoy clothes shopping this much?”
“Mmmm, maybe? I think it will be fun! It’s like a date!”
“A date…”
“We’re splitting you two up, you know,” Futaba said. “You won’t see each other until we’re done.”
“Ehh? I wanted to see Junna-chan try on clothes…” Nana pouted, shoulders drooping.
“Careful, Banana,” Claudine said. “Keep this up and you’ll reach Kaoruko levels of clinginess.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m clingy?”
Claudine snorted; Junna covered her mouth, trying desperately not to laugh. Futaba didn’t even make the attempt. “Boy, Banana, have I got some news for you!”
“Eh?” Nana looked around blankly, not understanding. Junna patted her arm.
“We’ll talk later.”
“Okay?”
“Don’t worry, Banana,” Claudine said, hooking an arm through Nana’s and pulling her away from Junna. “I’ll take good care of you. Now come on!”
Claudine led the way into the clothing store and headed straight for the dresses, towing Nana along.
“I’m a little worried,” Junna said, following Futaba to the opposite side.
“Come on, clothes shopping isn’t that bad.”
“No, not that. Nana. She gets a little… strange sometimes. When she’s on her own.”
“Eh, I’m sure it’s fine. Kuroko’s with her.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Junna stopped at a rack of polos, fingering the material. “So. What are we looking for, exactly?”
“I dunno. Something cool looking.”
“You don’t know? Wasn’t this your idea in the first place?”
Futaba shrugged. “Hey, I only said it would be a good idea. I never promised good execution.”
“I expected better of you.”
“That’s your problem, Junna. You expect too much of us. You forget we’re all idiots.”
“I wish I could forget.” Junna rifled through a rack of shirts, frowning at the options. With no idea of what she was looking for, she pulled out the first thing that seemed close to her size. “Something like this?”
“Nah. Too feminine.”
“We’re in the men’s section.”
“So?”
“...Okay,” Junna finally said, giving up on making sense of this whole adventure. She put the shirt back, drumming her fingers on the rack as she looked around. “Oh! I know!”
Futaba followed her across the store. After a moment it was clear what Junna was heading for; Futaba couldn’t believe she hadn’t predicted it. With how much of a nerd Junna was, she should have been preparing for it the whole way there.
Junna turned to her with a grin, holding up her find. “How about--”
“Absolutely not.”
“But it’s boyish--”
“It’s ugly.”
“I disagree--”
“Junna, if you want to wear a sweater vest, you’re going to have to beat me in a fist fight.”
Junna lowered the argyle monstrosity and sized Futaba up. “I bet I could take you.”
“Yeah? You wanna go?” Futaba took a step towards Junna, fist raised. Junna conceded immediately.
“On second thought, maybe not.”
“Kuro-chan, Kuro-chan!” Nana bounced over to Claudine, a bundle of clothes in her arms.
Claudine looked up from the rack of dresses she'd been inspecting, eager to see what Nana had come back with. "Oh, nice! What'd you find?"
"A bunch of stuff! Let's see..." Nana held up the first shirt. It was white, a big green frog pasted right in the middle. Claudine frowned. "Isn't it cute? And then there's this one," Nana continued, holding up a pair of dark green pants. A few small frogs decorated the pockets. "I think they'd look good together!"
"Banana, I said we were getting you a dress," Claudine said. "Also, this is the 7th frog item so far. Where are you finding these?"
"What do you mean? They're really easy to spot! But don't worry, I found a dress too!" Nana showed off her last find, a yellow dress with ruffled sleeves and a frog shaped pocket. It was cute, Claudine admitted, except for one major problem:
"Banana, that's a dress for a literal five year old."
"Yep! I found it in the kid's section!"
"Why were you in the kid's section? We're shopping for you!"
Nana pouted, holding the dress tight to her chest. "But the kid's section has the most frog stuff."
"And you can buy all the froggy kid stuff you want in ten years when you and Junna have a million children. But right now, we're trying to make you look hot. So put that back!"
Nana reluctantly agreed, returning the clothing to their original spots. She made a mental note to come back later.
"Much better," Claudine said when Nana returned. "Now try this on." She shoved a polka dot blue dress at Nana and pushed her towards the dressing room.
"I don't know," Nana said, "it doesn't have any frogs on it."
"Does everything you own have to have frogs?"
Nana considered the question for a moment. "No," she finally decided. "It could have bananas instead."
"Absolutely not! Too much yellow will clash with your hair. Trust me, I know from experience."
"If you say so... Why are we trying to make me hot again?"
"Because the fact that you don't dress to your potential is a crime against humanity. Now shush! Go try on that dress! And while you do, I'm going to find you some lingerie."
"Oh!" Nana said as Claudine closed the door on her. "See if they have any frogs--"
"No."
"Here, try this," Futaba said, handing Junna a pair of sweatpants. Junna sighed as she took them, heading back into the changing room for what had to be the 10th time.
"Have you figured out your criteria for good pants yet?"
"Yeah. Whatever looks the most butch."
"That's not very helpful." Junna emerged a moment later, looking hopefully at Futaba. "Good?" They felt nice, at the very least. Junna had never been one for sweatpants, but she'd wear them for the rest of her life if it meant they could move on.
"Nah," Futaba said, shaking her head and crushing Junna's hopes. "The color's all wrong."
"They're black."
"There's lots of different blacks."
"You know," Junna said, ignoring that statement and taking the next pair of black pants Futaba handed her, "if your goal is to make me butch, won't that ruin your Sailor Moon theory?"
Futaba grinned. "God, I love our Sailor Moon theory."
The two of them had spent hours hashing it out a few weeks back: between the nine of them and the nine senshi in Sailor Moon, who would match who? It was the most important conversation of their life. And a surprisingly easy one, too, aside from the infamous Uranus/Neptune dispute.
"So do I," Junna said from the changing room. "But my point still stands: your sole reasoning for you being Uranus was that you were the butchest of the group. Yet here you are, trying to make me more butch."
"What, are you saying you're gonna take my title? No offense, Junna, but I think I'm safe."
"Probably," Junna agreed, showing off the next pair of pants. Another no from Futaba. Junna sighed. "I still say butchness isn't the right metric though. Tendo-san fits the role better."
"And like I said: she doesn't have a motorcycle."
"She has everything else though! The talent, the distantness, the mild disdain for people lesser than her--"
"Doesn't matter. Not unless she starts calling Karen 'kitten'."
"You don't call her that either."
"I could start."
"I think she's more of a dog."
"Don't be a smartass, Mercury. Hey- those ones look pretty good."
"Do you think so?" Junna spun around, showing off the pants from every angle. They felt the same as all the others, but if Futaba was happy, she'd take it.
"Sure. Why not."
"What do you mean, why not? We've been at this for forever, and that's the best response you have?"
"I mean, they're just the same as all the others."
Junna stared at her in shock. "Wait, wait! If they were all the same, why did you make me try on fifteen of them!?"
"I wanted to see how long you'd keep going," Futaba said, grinning at Junna's frustrated groan.
"I hate you."
“Mercury doesn’t know how to hate.”
“Don’t worry, she’s a quick learner.”
"You're a disaster," Claudine said, watching in awe as Nana stumbled around.
"Well, I've never really worn heels before-- woah!" Nana wobbled her way into the nearest shoe rack, grabbing it for balance and nearly knocking it over in the process.
"Unbelievable. I’m talking to our teacher; we need to add this to our curriculum.” Claudine took hold of Nana’s arm, pulling her over to the chair. Nana sighed gratefully.
“Is walking in heels really that important?”
“Bien sûr! Of course! How are you going to be femme if you can’t walk in heels?”
“I don’t really care if I’m femme though… You and Kaoruko-chan do a much better job at that than me!”
“Hah! Kaoruko! You’re not a true femme until you’ve walked down the streets of Paris in five inch heels!”
“Okay?”
“All I’m saying is that I’m a better femme than Kaoruko.”
Nana hummed absentmindedly, looking around at the mass of shoes Claudine had collected. “Do any of these have shorter heels? I don’t think I could match your five inches! But I could maybe do two?”
“Two inches barely counts as a heel. But I guess it’ll do. You’re tall enough anyways.” Claudine rummaged through the pile, pulling out a pair of pink shoes. “Here, this will match the dress we found.”
“Oh, cute!” Nana slipped the shoes on and stood, smiling as she found her balance.
Claudine nodded in approval. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you say something was cute that wasn’t Junna or frog related.”
“I think lots of things are cute! Junna-chan and frogs are just really really cute.”
“Yeah? What else is cute?”
“Hmm.” Nana tapped her chin, grinning slyly. “The way you were saying Maya-chan’s name in your sleep the other day, after you fell asleep on the couch?”
Claudine turned red. “Th-that! That definitely didn’t happen! You’re making that up!”
“Correct!”
“Huh?”
“What I really think is cute is Kuro-chan’s embarrassed face!”
Claudine stared up at Nana, mouth hanging open. “You…! You’re the worst of the group sometimes, you know that?”
Nana simply laughed, twirling around in her heels. She did the move so neatly that Claudine was forced to wonder if all her earlier wobbling had been an act. It had happened before: Nana liked to stay in the middle of the pack during their dance lessons, but on the rare occasions Claudine caught her practicing on her own, she flew through the steps better than Maya could. Looking at Nana’s bright grin, Claudine had the feeling she’d been tricked again.
“How do you manage to be just as frustrating as her?”
“Hm?”
Claudine sighed. “Never mind. Let’s go meet up with Futaba and Junna. It’s time to show you off!”
“Oh, good,” Junna said as Claudine and Nana walked up, “you’re both alive.”
“Junna-chan!” Nana bounded over, giving Junna a hug. Junna rolled her eyes and patted her on the back.
“Did you think we’d kill each other or something?” Claudine asked.
“I figured either she’d kill you with all the frog stuff she found, or you’d kill her to stop all frogs.”
“It came pretty close.”
“Junna and I almost got in a fight,” Futaba said. Nana looked over in surprise.
“We did not,” Junna protested.
“You challenged me!”
“That- It was a statement, that’s all!”
“It better have been,” Claudine said, “cause there’s no way you’d survive a fight with Futaba. Or anyone, for that matter.”
Junna pouted, crossing her arms. “I’d do okay against Kagura.”
“With her knife?”
“Don’t worry Junna-chan, I can protect you!”
“...Let’s go try on those clothes.”
Nana emerged from the dressing room first. She was wearing a knee length pink dress with matching pink heels. Frilly white socks and white belt completed the outfit. Nana gave a little twirl, the dress spinning around her. Futaba and Claudine clapped.
“We went with a sleeveless dress to show off her arms,” Claudine explained.
“Good choice.” Futaba high fived her.
“You look nice,” Junna said, stepping out of her dressing room and smiling up at Nana. “You should wear dresses more often. They suit you.”
Nana beamed. “Junna-chan looks super good too!” She patted her dress, frowning when she remembered its lack of pockets. “Ah- I don’t have my phone...”
“That’s fine. Our camera crew over there has it covered.” Junna nodded her head at Futaba and Claudine, who were indeed busy taking a multitude of photos.
“Come on, Jun!” Claudine called. “Strike a pose!”
Junna sighed and turned properly towards her, sticking her hands in her pockets. She was wearing the black sweatpants Futaba had tormented her with, a blue varsity jacket with white sleeves, and blue and white vans. Futaba came over and stuck a black and red snapback on her head.
“There. Look complete! Feeling butch now?”
“Sure?”
“That’s the spirit!”
Nana draped her arms over Junna’s shoulders and rested her chin on Junna’s head. “This was fun!”
“...It was,” Junna reluctantly agreed. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“Consider it a thank you for absorbing Banana’s frog obsession so the rest of you don’t have to deal with it,” Claudine said.
“Don’t worry, Kuro-chan! One day you’ll find your own frog princess, and then you’ll understand.”
“Banana, that’s terrifying.”
“Does that mean Junna’s your frog princess?” Futaba asked.
“Yes!”
“Make up your minds,” Junna said, frowning. “Am I supposed to be a princess or butch?”
Futaba crossed her arms, thinking. “You know, I don’t think you’re either. I think you’re eternally just a nerd.”
