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delicrieux · 3 months

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…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. ugh. suppose gojo has his moments, even if you: 1) didn't want, 2) didn't ask, 3) preferred that he didn't.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. gojo forgets to pick up megumi bruh and also swear wc. 3.6k author’s note. in this story we actually technically get custody of megumi much sooner than the original timeline. that's cuz i have.... plans nyahahaha

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CHAPTER 3: 100 laps

“eh? megumi?” you tilt your head, “…did…you just get back?”

why is a seven year old trailing from jujutsu tech’s entrance at sundown? fushiguro megumi seems a bit frazzled, like the long trek up has left him winded. it likely has. you’re almost always grappling for air if you have to actually climb up the mountain just to reach your dorm.

you’re not, however, surprised that he keeps his composure very well, even for a kid. that zenin blood has a kick to it.

he doesn’t respond, simply peers up at you, as if assessing. he looks displeased, but fushiguro almost always is. at least from what you’ve seen – you don’t exactly spend enough time with him to find out.

while technically a property of the faculty, gojo is his legal guardian. somewhat. it’s complicated. you didn’t look into it, because it involves gojo, and you want nothing to do with him. you know about him too much already. the information is cluttering your brain, and it doesn’t matter how many temple massages you do.

still, it’s a bit concerning. he’s all alone. you make a point to look around, expecting gojo to jump out a bush or maybe be hovering in the air like some omnipotent kami. no such thing in sight, “…did no one come to pick you up?”

“hmph,” is the response you receive, all punctuated with a glare and a sharp turn of the head. fushiguro doesn’t want to talk, but he’s not plowing past you, either.

you are, by no means, good with kids. you think they’re quite stupid. but fushiguro seems to possess an intelligence absent from most (absent from some adults too, see gojo), so you crouch down to his level and try, “stupid was supposed to do it, wasn't he?”

ah, the insult softens him up a bit. it’s in the way his shoulders droop slightly and eyes waver down. the golden sunset has him glowing. what a cute kid, “…he forgot.”

“woooooow,” you can’t say you’re surprised, but now you really feel bad for fushiguro. did he wait all day alone? christ, now you might really wring gojo, and for no selfish reason, too. which cursed weapon could do the most damage? maybe if you told yaga-sensei, he’d let you use the ones from the vault, “that’s rough, buddy.”

“it’s whatever,” an eloquent one, surely, “i had detention anyway.”

“ah, get into another fight?” that’s been happening since kindergarten, but his grades are too good for him to be kicked out. he nods curtly. you smile, “did you win?”

“yes.”

“good job!”

after leading fushiguro back to his room, you make your way to the track field. he wasn’t very enthusiastic with your company, but he didn’t complain, which could mean he didn’t hate it. you have a feeling if he was displeased, he’d let you know. he always lets it be known with gojo.

finally, you’re better at something. that’s a win if you ever had one.

regrettably, you couldn’t locate yaga-sensei in the first 10 minutes, so you gave up. you’ll catch him eventually and tattle. fushiguro arrived safe, even if he could have been kidnapped, hit by a bus, lost in the city, collected by the police for loitering without a custodian. but he wasn’t, and that's what matters.

you drop your gym bag by a bench, breathe in the cooling air. you begin your warm-ups. yaga-sensei has updated the training regimen to include more cardio (and likely to make use of a gigantic track field), and your number of laps was bumped to a 100. a daunting number, but it only sounds scary. a 100 laps on even terrain is doable; a 100 laps up the steep mountain would be pure torture. even you, with your impressive stamina and unyielding will, would face trouble during the second lap.

shoko would die halfway up. you imagine getou would give up around 10. gojo is a freak of nature, so he’d likely be fine.

you could have invited shoko, but she’s down at the clinic, breathing in anesthetic and mixing the perfect ratio of potassium chloride into the bags of solution for use next week. you could have asked getou to join, but you don’t fancy him seeing you too sweaty, and lately, getou prefers to train and spend his evenings alone. maybe he just wants some space.

maybe.

still, the track is empty this time in the evening, so it's perfect. you can do your exercises in peace and enjoy the breeze and the pretty spill of rose-lilac in the sky.

then, he shows up.

"kami-chaaaaan~!" and has the audacity to yell your name in that saccharin-dripping sing-song.

you spring up from your stretches, aghast. briefly, you wonder what higher power had you insulted to be punished like this.

gojo waves at you like the biggest dork on planet, barreling from the other side of the field at alarming speeds. seems in a particular hurry to antagonize you. you should leave before he gets too close and decides verbal abuse isn’t enough. if his hands haunt your nightmares, you will never tell.

you are faced with another life or death scenario. stay and be vulnerable to gojo’s bullying, or skip your workout and be faced with yaga-sensei’s wrath? you can almost hear the latter cowing in your ear about responsibility and aspiration – you can be a 1st grade on paper all you want, but you have to act like one, too.

your deliberation has wasted your time. the answer becomes apparent when gojo beams at you, more blinding than midday sunlight. his eyes must crinkle underneath those dweeby sunglasses, but that’s none of your business.

you put your hands on your hips and give him a displeased once over. he has two huge sodas pressed underneath his armpit and too many candy bags in his hands. if he started juggling, he’d be a perfect clown.

“no hi?” he ticks a brow, smug.

if he’s here, you might as well let him have it, “you forgot to pick megumi up.”

he doesn’t even have the decency to seem apologetic. simply heaves with an annoyed, “uuuuuuuughhhhh,”

“what a pathetic person,” you point.

“for your information, i was on a mission,” he states, “and my battery died. didn’t you notice i wasn’t around? surely you should’ve noticed.”

you don’t like how his tone implies a certain familiarity. you did notice his absence, but you chalked it up to him growing a conscience. miracles do happen, and the fact that you haven’t gone crazy is a testament to that.

“besides, i already talked to megumi,” he shrugs, “said he’s fiiiine, mom. totally wasn't in any danger."

"i'm sure."

he gives you an ugly, goofy grin that means he's still plotting a way to get underneath your skin. not very difficult a task, not very difficult at all, but gojo has to do it anyway. and right on cue, he coos, "sweaty? that's cute."

"you wish. get out of my field," you snap back. he opens one of his 52 gallons of soda and makes a grandiose show of downing it. disgusting. how has the sugar not fried his brain beyond repair? maybe it has, and his actions are a direct result of that.

“well, don’t mind me,” he says after a moment, shuffling past you and making sure to bump your shoulder, because why not? he sprawls out on the bench, all those snacks pooling in his lap like he’s about to have a feast, “hop to it.”

“excuse me?” you utter.

“what?” he has the audacity to look clueless, “i’m enjoying the weather.”

“enjoy it somewhere else.”

“’m good here, to be honest,”

you scoff, stomp the earth because it has all his stupid dust and the weight of his presence. he, again, gives you the most innocently confused look.

there is no chance in the nine hells that you're letting him be the obstacle to your regimens. if that were the case, you'd flunk out the same day of initiation, and would have sooner set yourself aflame. it doesn't help that it's gojo sitting there like a garish signpost, a perfect example of someone about to thoroughly enjoy himself watching you squirm underneath his gaze.

what happened to the simple pleasure of watching TV while you eat?

you resign yourself to your fate, as you always do. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger or whatever. by now, you’ve collected a plethora of motivational quotes to inspire you during times of mental anguish. you say these affirmations before going to bed, like they’d help. speak to the universe, and it will speak back! that’s what your horoscope said today, and you’re desperate enough to believe just about anything by now.

you will not skip warm-ups just because he’s a creep. you do move a good distance away, though, plant your feet on the track. you will touch your toes and do your squats and ignore him. if he does have a great view of your (rumored flat) ass, that’s none of your concern.

except—

gojo whistles. a shrill noise that rises in pitch with each note, a keen you assume is intended to irritate you.

you want to murder him. strangle him with your own bare hands. maybe run his face over the bleachers and be done with it. you will beg yaga-sensei to allow you access to the vault.

"perverted freak," you seethe.

"what? nice view here; can see the mountains and stuff."

he drinks his 485763242 gallons of soda, slurping in all sorts of rude manners that have you wrinkle your nose. you should've taken your headphones from your bag. music would drown him out, but you're a bit wary of approaching him. you feel like he expects it.

after your last stretch, you pivot on your heels and start your runs. it takes exactly two laps to notice him digging around in your gym bag, because why should you have any privacy. everything within reach is his property, which extends to you, too.

he takes out your bottle of water, waves it like he’s calling you back. fuck that.

“kaaaaami-channnn! you need to drink your water unless you wanna topple over!” he announces common knowledge, and once again, it appears he’s trying to do you a favor. no way in hell you’re stopping. taking the hint, he unscrews the lid and takes a sip. that’s great too, now your water is contaminated.

fine. you’ll die of dehydration. maybe the lingering heat will get to you first. that’s okay too. it’s an honorable way to go.

as your feet smack the ground, you mutter the meanest, foulest insults about the man currently perched in your corner-eye view. his legs are spread wide and he leans back, unabashedly chewing, grinning, and being himself in your field of vision, in your life, like a bright light on full beam that makes you so angry sometimes you think you might pop a blood vessel.

somewhere around lap 80, you lose track of him. there’s relief that washes over, muscles aching and—

“kami-chaaaaan,” the fucking whine on him, christ. he trails right after you, too lazy to catch up, and god, please, please you have never wished for anything more in your life, please please please please—

he has for sure finished your water. maybe he jogged up just to show you. why are you still doing this song and dance. he has grown on you like an inoperable tumor. please please please—

you find your breaths a bit too loud in the quiet. the sun is gone and soon the grounds will flood with darkness. your muscles burn with exertion and you pant, leaning on your knees. this is, normally, where you’d drink water, but since gojo gulped it down for you, you will just rest for a moment to fight down the blooming headache and rising nausea before you continue.

you must have lost consciousness for a brief period of time, because the next thing you register is being thrown on top of gojo's bony shoulder and a mild grip just above the back of your knee.

"…what the?"

"did you know," his voice sounds annoyingly pleased, "that you started rolling when you laid down, and it was a miracle that you didn’t drown yourself in the pond?"

your body wanted to save you, bless it. even in your blackout, it attempted a good thing.

it’s not the first time you’re the recipient of gojo’s touch, but it feels strange in your haze. his hand is warm and obscene; how big really is his palm and how long are his fingers? why is he caressing you? you might be imagining it, but there’s definitely a pattern to his touch. it tickles.

but of course — of course, you make no sense of this. he is too hot and the world is dark, so your reality is nothing.

"you can't walk, let me take you back to your room," he sounds helpful, like he's performing a service for you, not harassing the hell out of a tired, miserable woman.

"i need to finish my laps. let go."

he ignores you and takes you away from the track field, "if i find out this was some sick plot to get me to touch you, i swear…"

he talks and you tune out, because listening makes your brain hurt worse than the hangover you could have. it takes a herculean effort just to keep your from crossing.

unfortunately, he opens his big fat trap again, but his tone has changed. gojo is speaking normally. you force yourself to listen and are vaguely aware of something terrible happening.

"are you gonna hurl or something?" he asks.

"maybe."

"gross. not on my shirt, it's expensive,"

it is expensive. and tailored perfectly to hug his torso. gojo carries his self-importance like law, and it is. he's the 2000 years of jujutsu sorcery distilled into human form.

your hands dig into the hard muscles of his back. he smells great. so do you. not at all sweaty and muddy from your apparent tumble and roll to escape this world.

"look alive, kami-chan," he chides, squeezing. "where's that tenacity?"

the only reason why you open your eyes is so you can properly scowl at him, which he can't see, but you know in your heart that he can feel, "in your future grave, which i have yet to dig."

he laughs at this, a loud and ringing sound. your headache intensifies. the lights outside blink on, dousing the world in a faint glow.

you make the mistake of breathing. the fresh scent of night is almost pungent, and you groan, letting your eyes fall closed again. gojo's steps don't falter. the smoothness of his walk makes it seem like you're in a car driving down a straight road. it would be soothing, if you didn't suspect that he had ulterior motives. which he does, because he's gojo, and he would never show you an ounce of mercy.

his silence is suspicious. it lingers between you two for the remaining trek. there's a tightness around your leg now, a certain warmth that should alarm you, but doesn't. a gentle warning.

"oi, did you pass out on me?" he prods your shin, jostles you back and forth to regain your attention.

"no," you sigh, opening your eyes. the corridor is much brighter and stings like crazy. "are we back?"

"yep, almost," he chirps, "want me to tuck you into bed?"

you scoff, "i'll castrate you if you lay your hands on me."

"i’m literally holding you."

"you'll have to let me go eventually."

"hmmmm," the hum he lets out is a tingle down your spine, "ha. no."

there are bitter words of defiance for you to spit out, but your thoughts are incoherent right now, so they scatter on the tip of your tongue. he gives up easily on teasing, focuses on his steps. you hear a door sliding open, a rush of cool air.

"okay, up you go," he sets you down, careful as can be.

hallway lights spill into the dark of your room.

gojo stands over you, but his posture is slouchy. you're at the foot of your bed. this isn't what you expected him to do.

"what? not gonna run me through a list of new curse words?" he chimes, dropping your gym bag down from his other shoulder. you didn't even notice. "paint a pretty picture of my demise and tell me in detail?"

"i'll pass," you drop onto the mattress with all the grace you can muster, so face first into the sheets. gojo's brows quirk upward, "but it is on my to do list," or something along those lines, your voice is pretty muffled.

you hear him shift. not stepping closer or away, just there. is he waiting for a thank you? he'll be waiting for a long time. you might be in debt to him for the rest of your miserable life, though you didn't ask for it. he could've left you and not given a shit, and you'd appreciate that more. you would've left him, no questions asked. snapped a few pictures to send to utahime too; she'd probably have them framed.

the longer his presence weighs over you, the less you want to move, to get him to leave. you really do appreciate the lack of kicks to the back, though.

"...are you dying on me?"

"’m trying," you garble.

he clicks his teeth, and suddenly, two massive hands scoop under your hips, lifting you like a sack of rice, "up."

you obey, sitting back and staring up at gojo in his towering form. you swallow around the dryness in your throat, breathe through the pounding in your temple.

he tips his head to the side.

"ugh, don't give me that look. just—" gojo removes his hands, dusting them over his pants, like he touched something gross. and maybe he thinks he did. "water."

a single bottle is presented to you like an olive branch, which you will not take. not to appease gojo satoru, and not to kill the headache, because the spiteful, nasty part of you has to win.

"you spit in it?"

this makes him crack up. you notice the dimple on his cheek, how his shoulders bounce in silent laughter, and how stupid his stupidly perfect hair is. you take the water, chug it without a second thought.

he sits down next to you. you pretend he isn't there. he stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle, makes himself at home in your space, and you will cuss at him as soon as you regain function of a single brain cell.

"where'd you get this, anyway?" you ask instead, motioning to the water.

"didn’t drink all of it, it was more of a palate cleanser," he shrugs.

"then why are you only giving it to me now?"

"what am i, an errand boy? besides, i did try, didn’t i?" he scoots back and a slow, pleased smile curls on his lips, "aren't i nice, making sure your needs are met?"

god, you might actually throw up. why can’t he, for once, be deterred by your perturbed silence?

a particular look shadows his features, one that will either mean the worst or something horrifyingly good and you don't think you are mentally present to handle whatever he might spew next, "you gonna call me satoru now?"

he isn't even remotely subtle. you feel him press his weight closer. a subtle motion, but you are painfully attuned to every inch of his body, the things his limbs are doing at any given moment, because you always expect them to strike.

"would rather eat sand," you swallow the rest of the water down, feeling your blood pump a bit easier. you exhale, closing your eyes and tipping back, "besides, isn't that for people who actually like you?"

he moves to rest on his forearms. it’s so strange to see him within these walls, filling the empty spaces with his vibrancy, "you can add the sama, too."

the plastic bottle aims straight for his forehead but tumbles down without touching him.

he grins, "there she is."

"get out of my room," you deadpan.

"aa, so cold," he does a bad impression of being offended. he's terrible. gojo will forever be terrible, "i see, i see. gotcha."

"before i grow old and crippled," you add. you're about a minute from collapsing and he hasn't moved his ass off your bed.

he gets up then, slowly, leisurely, because the man loves making everything difficult. you squeeze your eyes, furrow your brows together. he chuckles, a deep reverberation that plucks every string of nerves in your body.

gojo does not say a thing until his silhouette is barely visible in the bright doorway.

"try not to overdo it next time, okay?"

it's probably the first considerate thing to come from him, or maybe you're exhausted and hallucinating the entire interaction. you exhale as the door slides shut behind him, leaving you to rot in a pit of your own misery. the hum of your air conditioner eases into the background.

everything he says and does is to mess with you. you don't doubt that this was just some ploy, too. tomorrow, it'll be nothing but an awkward, fleeting memory. but this evening's been taxing enough, and there's no energy left within to parse through another one of his possessed ideas.

you hate that your room smells like him now.

this is going to be a bitch in the morning, you already know it.

tags. @shokosbunny, @jotarohat, @alygator77

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years

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Say My Name, and I’ll Be There: 2.1

"If you wake up to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door...call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call."

"Ehe! Peek-ah-booooo," your chubby fingers separated those of your savior so that you could peek at him through the gaps. His lips tugged into a barely-noticeable smile. Your sudden coughing fit brought an end to the rare sight as he watched blood spill from the corner of your mouth.

"Do not forget what I've said." The man bit the tip of his thumb, drawing blood in the process, and closed the gap over your eyes. He touched the tip of his thumb to your lips and a warm light enveloped you.

"XIAOOO!" You gasped for air and shot up from the ground. Cold sweat clung to your clothes, and your hair was sticking up in unruly ways.

You were greeted with shocked faces, with most mouths agape and about to welcome spoonfuls of breakfast. "And here I thought you'd sleep all day again," Childe let out an awkward laugh. "How're you feeling, Sleeping Beauty? You drool like my kid brother," he pointed to a corner of his mouth.

"S-shut it," you hurriedly wiped at your mouth, and found that he was bluffing. He choked back a laugh. Your breathing finally returned to normal...had he joked around to calm you?

"Your fever must have broke last night. The color finally returned to your face." Zhongli continued to eat as if everything were normal.

"Yeah! At this rate, we might be able to leave by tomorrow!" Paimon spun around happily.

"Let me get you some food," Aether reached for a bowl and utensils. "You haven't eaten anything in a while. You must be starving."

You stayed silent, but stole a glance at Xiao. He continued to eat without looking in your direction. What was I dreaming about just now? Your gaze fell to your lap. Why did I call Xiao's name?

"Hey, are you still feeling sick?" Aether prodded you after you didn't answer him. "Maybe we should go back to--"

"I'm fine. I just had a really weird dream." You caught Xiao glancing at you from the corner of your vision.

"If you say so. Don't hesitate to tell us if something's wrong."

"Thanks." You finally took the bowl from his hands and ate in silence.

Xiao scouted the area around the path they were to take the following day. He leapt from tree to tree to identify any potential threats they may need to eradicate along the way. His mind was unusually cluttered with thoughts pertaining to things outside of his duty. Like you.

It appears as though she's beginning to regain her memories of that day.

"'If you wake up to a knife...'" You absent-mindedly touched your throat as you recalled your dream. "Why does it sound so familiar?" You ran your hands through your hair, gripping the strands as you repeated the action over and over again. It felt as though the answers were sitting on the tip of your tongue--so close yet so far away.

"You should really stop wondering off on your own. Especially after last time." Childe nodded toward your injured leg before kneeling beside you. "And even more so considering this is the same spot you got injured."

"It's fine. Xiao already cleared this area. I guess the lawachurl was just a loner."

"That won't always be the case. You need to keep your guard up at all times. You never know when an enemy could strike you down."

"You mean enemies like you?" You scooped up water from the stream before dowsing your face.

"Well, you're not wrong," he laughed. His face fell as he watched you dry your face. "What were you dreaming about this time?"

"'This time?'"

"You tend to talk in your sleep or jolt awake." He paused. "You've been calling Xiao's name a lot lately."

"So I've heard," you muttered and stood. "I don't know what to tell you. I barely remember my dreams."

"You know, lying isn't your strong suit." Childe matched your pace as you limped back to camp.

"Maybe when I know what to make of my dreams, I'll share. But I promise you won't get any useful information out of them for your precious Tsaritsa." This earned you an unreadable grin from the Harbinger.

"Is everyone ready?" Aether's gaze swept across everyone's faces and landed on you.

"Yep!" You grinned widely. "I can walk fine for the most part."

"Cool! Let us know if you need a break."

Your team set off to Huaguang Stone Forest. It wasn't too far of a journey from your current location, but your still-healing injury proved to be a bit of an issue not long after you guys left the campsite. You were already several feet behind the rest of the group, sweating profusely in the mid-morning sun. Xiao slowed down and walked alongside you.

"If you need to rest, speak up."

"I'm fine," you insisted despite being out of breath. "I can keep up."

Xiao narrowed his eyes as if he were thinking of pointing out that you were in fact losing ground. After a few minutes of watching you recklessly hobbling about the trail, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Here." He knelt at your feet with his back facing you.

He wants to give me a piggy-back ride?! You were mortified at the possibility of being teased by the group if you went through with this. Your cheeks burned a bright red.

"Don't reduce me to waiting on you. Hurry up," he ordered.

"O-okay." You didn't want to test the patience of the yaksha and did as you were told. He rose to his feet with you on his back, bright red with embarrassment. "Childe is going to criticize me for being so weak--"

"So?"

"Oh, I--" You hadn't realized you said it aloud.

"If you're that eager for strength, we can do endurance training."

"You'd do that?"

"On one condition." You picked your head up off his shoulder to look at him. "You do it for your own protection, not for approval."

"Right," you nodded, realizing how childish your statement was. "What I said....I had only meant that Childe's teasing is annoying. I want to grow strong of my own accord."

Xiao nodded without saying anything. You adjusted your grip around his shoulders before awkwardly resting your chin on him. I really hope he can't feel how hard my heart is beating....or how hot my face is. Wait, why do I even feel this way in the first place? You failed to realize that the tips of Xiao's ears were dusted pink.

Childe bit the inside of his lip after he glanced behind him to find that Xiao was carrying you. The all-too-familiar pang of jealousy yanked inside his chest.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshinimpactxiao #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao genshin impact #writing

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hxwks-gf · 4 years

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─ butterfly, ch 1

pairing: tamaki amajiki x writer!reader

summary: it’s a rainy day, and you see a familiar face in a local bookstore. where have you seen him before?

w/c: 2k

a/n: behold: my second multi-chapter project! i’m hoping it goes smoothly as i’m having so much fun writing it, and i hope you guys enjoy it as well. it’s super fluffy and really wholesome. it’s set about 4-5 years after the big 3 have graduated from UA & u basically fall in love with amajiki all over again

The bell over the door into the bookstore jingled cheerfully as you stepped inside and shook the rain off your umbrella before leaning it against the window. It was warm and cozy inside the bookstore, full of golden, buttery light, but most importantly: it was dry. You set your bag down and shed your coat to hang it up on the rack nearby.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice muffled by the rows and rows of shelves filled with books.

“Is that you, y/n?”

“It’s me!” You peeked around the corner and saw the old woman who owned the shop come hobbling forward. After greeting her with a polite bow, you rubbed your hands together in anticipation. “Did they come?”

“That they did,” she replied, making her way behind the counter. She bent down to fetch something, and appeared a moment later with a stack of books. She patted them and pushed them towards you. “Fresh off the press.”

“You’re a miracle worker,” you said, running a hand over the cover of the book that was at the top of the stack. “How much do I owe you?”

“Bah,” she said, waving her hands. “I’ll just put it on your tab, eh?”

“Mrs. Sakura, I insist,” you said, frowning at her as she stepped down from the counter and started towards the back of the store again.

“You’ll pay me back once you become a best-selling author, right?” she tossed over her shoulder.

Right. That. Suddenly, your laptop felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in your bag. With a sigh, you took the stack of new books and sat down at one of the small tables by the window to start working on your manuscript again. You had been in a slump for months now, unable to further the plot of your novel. As you flipped through the books and scanned over the seemingly endless array of documents on your computer, you almost didn’t hear the bell jingle over the door. A quick glance upwards and you made a note of a mop of indigo hair, but you quickly returned your focus to your computer screen to keep working.

“Ah, you’re back again!” you heard Mrs. Sakura say to whoever just walked in. “I think you’ve read everything I’ve got already, I’ve never seen anyone go through so many books so quickly!”

“It’s okay,” a soft, timid voice replied. “I’d like to read them again, if that’s alright.”

You glanced over the top of your laptop screen again. The back of his head looks familiar, you thought to yourself, your fingers paused over the keyboard. The shade of his hair was an uncommon one; it reminded you of the night sky once the sun had fully disappeared beyond the horizon. That’s a good line, you thought, and you reached for your pen and notepad to scribble it down. Once again, the stranger was forgotten as you became lost in your work.

You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed until Mrs. Sakura came up to your table and set a steaming cup of tea beside you without a word.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you breathed, picking up the cup and softly blowing on the steam. “You’re too kind.”

“And you work too hard,” she chastised, gesturing to your cluttered workstation. “You’re telling me this all makes sense to you?”

“No,” you admitted, taking a sip of tea. “It doesn’t. But there’s a method to the madness, I assure you.”

She grumbled something unintelligible before hobbling away. You stretched your arms above your head and sighed, turning to look out the window at the dreary, grey weather. You watched the raindrops slide along the glass, until noticed the reflection of someone sitting at the table next to yours. You blinked, unable to break your gaze away.

His head was bent gracefully as he balanced a book in his hands, his eyes half-lidded as he languidly scanned the pages before his long, elegant fingers reached up and turned it. His dark, indigo hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes, but he barely seemed to mind. Peeking out of the strands on the side of his head was a long, pointed ear. But it was the way his lips were slightly parted as he read his book that made you continue to stare at the reflection in the window, completely enraptured by him. He looked so familiar to you, though. Where had you seen him before?

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Mrs. Sakura asked him, and you quickly tore your gaze away from the window, almost embarrassed with how long you had been staring.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, still in that soft manner from before. “Thank you very much.”

You squeezed your hands into fists in your lap at the sound of his voice. It was so gentle and soothing, like a cool ocean breeze in the middle of the summer. Another good line, your brain reminded you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him raise the teacup to his lips and take a sip. You wanted to just get back to your work, but curiosity got the better of you and you found yourself slyly sneaking a glance towards him.

He was even more ethereal in person. You admired the strong yet graceful curve of his jaw, your eyes sliding along the length of his neck as it disappeared beneath a black knit sweater.

“You’re not being obvious at all,” Mrs. Sakura suddenly whispered to you as she appeared to retrieve your used teacup.

You blushed furiously and covered your mouth with an awkward hand, turning your face away from him. God, she was right. Here you were, absolutely ogling this complete stranger, with no rational thought in sight. What was wrong with you? You decided you needed to stretch your legs, so you slid from the table and escaped to the shelves to find another book to help you write your novel.

Once out of sight and in the safety of the stacks, you let out a breath of relief and began searching the spines for something useful. Your fingers trailed along the edges of the books, until you found a section that might be of some help─but they paused on an empty space where the book you needed should have been. Disappointed, you dropped your hand.

“I think this one goes there,” that soft, gentle voice sounded from behind you.

You turned around with your mouth open in surprise. The stranger stood just a few feet away from you, holding out a book in his hand. His eyes were the same shade as his hair, and the visualization of the evening sky blossomed in your mind again. A truly extraordinary color. You stared at his face, trying to figure out where you had seen him before. You knew you had seen him before, but it was like someone had covered the memory with a hazy sheet.

“T-thank you,” you finally replied, taking the book from him and studying the cover. It was exactly what you were looking for: The World Encyclopedia of Butterflies and Moths. You looked back up at him. “Were you reading this for fun?”

His eyes widened, the tips of his ears and his cheeks turning pink. “Are you going to make fun of me for it?”

“No!” you said hastily, shaking your head. “I would never, I’m sorry─” You cut yourself off and winced, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was poking fun at you, I really like butterflies─”

He was staring at you now, and you realized you were rambling.

You bit your lip in embarrassment. “Sorry. Thank you for letting me read this─” you gestured to the book, “─and sorry for the terrible first impression.” Before you could humiliate yourself any further, you slipped by him and returned to your seat at the table, trying to hide your heated face.

“Very smooth,” Mrs. Sakura whispered from the counter.

Before you could angrily shush her, the stranger emerged from the stacks with a new book in his hands. You dutifully ignored him as he sat down again, but you could feel his eyes on you as you flipped through the encyclopedia of butterflies.

After some time passed and you had almost forgotten about that awkward encounter, you heard rustling from his table as he stood up and stretched his arms.

“Done for the day?” Mrs. Sakura asked him as he approached the counter, his back to you.

He placed the books he had in his possession in front of her and nodded. “Thank you. Have a good afternoon.”

“You as well,” she said, and both you and she watched him leave the bookstore and step out into the rain.

He started walking down the street, passing the big open window that you sat in front of. For a fleeting moment, he met your gaze through the rain-pattered glass, and you offered him a small wave. He blinked in surprise, blushed again, and hurriedly disappeared without so much as a smile.

“Who was that?” you asked Mrs. Sakura immediately, once he was out of sight.

“He’s a nice young man,” she answered, stamping his books. “He’s a pro-hero--a bit too shy for my tastes, but he’s drummed up quite a following. I’m surprised you don’t know who he is.”

“I feel like I’ve seen him before,” you murmured, looking out the window again. A pro-hero would explain that strange familiarity; perhaps you had seen him on TV once or something.

“Tamaki Amajiki,” Mrs. Sakura said. “Although most people know him as Suneater.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. Tamaki Amajiki? From high school?

She noticed your expression. “You know him?”

“I graduated in the same year as him,” you explained, and all of those memories came flooding back. You hadn’t known him that well, but you remembered how much you liked his quiet nature. Compared to Mirio Togata’s loud and outgoing personality and Nejire Hado’s bubbly popularity, Amajiki had always been a nice change of pace. Back then, you had been placed in General Education at UA High School, with no desire to follow the route to becoming a hero. Your Quirk was neither strong nor useful for that field. Instead, you graduated and went on to college to become a writer. Funny how the world always seems to bring people back together. You looked back to Mrs. Sakura. “Does he come in here often?”

“He’s only been in a few times,” she replied. “Mostly sticks to himself and reads books on butterflies. I think he likes them.”

“Yeah, I remember something along those lines from school,” you said. “I sat behind him in a creative writing course the summer before our third year….I wonder if he remembers me.”

“With the way he was looking at you, I’d say he does.”

“W-what?” you asked, feeling your cheeks turning hot again. “What are you talking about?”

Mrs. Sakura simply shrugged her shoulders and started towards the back of the store again. “You work too hard!” you heard her call from between the shelves. “Take a break!”

You shook your head in disbelief and stared at your idle computer screen. Amajiki had been….looking at you? Like you bad been looking at him? Suddenly, it felt like you were back in high school in that creative writing class, staring at the back of his head as he sat at the desk right in front of yours. Maybe that’s why it had looked so familiar when he first walked into the bookstore. You remembered a harmless, silly little crush you had had on him, all those years ago.

You gazed out of the shop’s window again. The sun was now peeking through the rain clouds, casting its glow over the street and illuminating the drops that slid down the glass.

You wondered if you would see him again.

[note: let me know what you guys think!! i have the next chapter lined up, so it’ll be posted soon after this one.

taglist: @a-monsters-love @luv4kiyoomi-archive @greatbiscuitsword @jennammae @eveninglevi @heydae20 @eitabun @kuurechr @itsjusteunoia]

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki fic #tamaki amajiki x you #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x y/n #tamaki amajiki fanfic #suneater #suneater x you #suneater x reader #suneater x y/n #my hero academia #my hero academia fic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fic

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alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 3 years

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About Time [G.W] - Part 5

pairing: George Weasley x OC

series description: on an unexpected night out, George meets the love of his life. and then suddenly loses her. what lengths will he go to in order to find her?

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @p0gues4l @amourtentiaa @305weasley

series masterlist

“Weasley, for two,” George said to the host. After leaving Gringotts, they had apparated to downtown London to a small wizard-friendly restaurant. They were guided to a small table in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant. There was a flame lit in a jar that was sitting on the table, providing some mood lighting.

The table was small and George’s long legs were so cramped that his knees were gently grazing his date’s.

“This is nice,” she said, looking around the small restaurant. The atmosphere was warm and cozy, which was only enhanced by a man playing guitar and singing cover songs for the patrons.

“Have you been here before?” George asked.

“No, I didn’t know this place existed.”

“Wish I could take credit but Fred recommended it. This is his go-to date spot.”

“And where’s your go-to date spot?” she challenged.

“Eh that would be Dans le Noir,” George replied, referring to the spot where they had shared a meal in complete darkness.

She laughed, “No I’m serious.”

“I don’t think I really have one. Every now and then I’ll take someone to one of the bars in Diagon Alley, but truthfully I don’t go on many dates.”

“That surprises me,” she replied.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re very likable and easy to be around. And you’re not too bad to look at either.”

He blushed ever so slightly, “I think I can get along with anyone, but I’m more interested in finding someone I have a connection with and that’s a bit harder to find.”

“Do you feel like there’s a connection between us?”

“Do you really need to ask that question?” He responded

“Hey, I’m entitled to ask that! As of an hour ago I had no idea you were even interested. This has all been very unexpected.”

“That’s fair. Well for the record, you’re the first person I’ve felt a connection with in a long time.”

She let out a small smile before asking, “So what happened that night?”

George sighed, “I still haven’t been able to figure it out. I think I wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you so it took me by surprise when you were so…incredible. And then I got nervous because I wanted you to like me and I wasn’t myself. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Well don’t let it happen again,” she replied with a smirk. They were briefly interrupted by a waiter who came by to take their orders. Molly continued the conversation, “I want to call you out for taking me on a proper date only after seeing me for the first time but it seems like you had this all planned out.”

“This was one of many plans.”

“Oh yeah? What were the other plans?”

“The original plan was waiting for you to come into the shop, but you didn’t want to cooperate.”

“I thought about it. A few times actually. But I convinced myself that you had someone else in your life, which is why you were so quiet that night. And I thought seeing you might be difficult.”

George hadn’t thought about her perspective before and it made perfect sense. He wasn’t sure what he could say to make things better, and luckily Molly interjected and said, “So how did you get to tonight’s plan?”

“I considered writing to you at the Prophet, but that just seemed so impersonal. And then I thought about just coming to your workplace to ask you out, but that didn’t seem quite right either. And then Fred found the invitation in the mail. I wasn’t positive you would be there, but it seemed like a real possibility. And now here we are.”

“You’re very impressive, you know that?”

“All for you, darling,” Molly blushed at his comment and George called her out, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to be all nervous now?”

“Of course not,” she replied.

“Then why are you blushing?”

She smiled, “It’s just nice to be pursued.”

“I have a hard time believing that guys aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

She considered her words carefully, “There are a lot of guys that are interested in sleeping with me, but romance appears to be a bit of a lost art.”

“Lucky for you, I am quite the romantic.”

“I bet you are,” she smiled. The conversation flowed pretty effortlessly and soon they had finished up their meals and were working on the last of their drinks. As George closed out the tab, Molly asked, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

George smiled, “I’d like that.” He finished paying the bill as Molly sucked down her last few sips before they gathered their things and walked out together.

It was a beautiful night, perfect for a walk through the town. George had his hand in his pockets and Molly took this moment to make a move.

“Wow, you aren’t even going to try and hold my hand?” she commented.

George looked at her and smiled, “You didn’t strike me as the PDA type.”

“Normally I’m not, but I’m willing to make an exception for someone special.” He took his hand out of his pocket and scooped up her delicate hand in one swift motion. He quickly interlaced their fingers and swung their hands back and forth. She chuckled at his enthusiasm.

“So I have an idea for our next date,” George said.

“And what makes you think there’s going to be a next date?” she teased.

“Because I know you can’t resist my effortless charm.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that. But hypothetically speaking, what sort of date are you planning?”

“I’m thinking I’ll get us some tickets to the Weird Sisters,” George felt butterflies in his stomach thinking of their first concert experience together.

“So you’re going to wait two weeks before taking me out on another date?” she countered. George was crafting a response but before he could say anything she added, “I’m surprised, I thought this date was going pretty well.”

“Ah so you do want a second date,” he grinned.

“I would like a second date, but please don’t make me wait two weeks. The concert can be our fourth or fifth date.”

“Now Molly, I know you couldn’t possibly be getting attached,” George said.

“Come on now George, you know I’m way too cool to admit to that.”

“Ah, but you also didn’t deny it.” Molly rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face.

They continued walking along the cobblestone street, passing by storefronts that were dark and the occasional pub with a boisterous crowd. George didn’t have a destination in mind, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to spend as much time with Molly as he could get.

“So Molly, I know you’re from the States, but whereabouts?” he asked.

“I’m from Chicago.”

“Oh I’ve actually heard of Chicago. And how did you like it?”

“It’s a great city. Part of me thinks I could’ve had a happy life living in Chicago. But I wanted to explore new places and that wasn’t going to happen in my hometown.”

“Well for the record, I’m glad you decided to venture across the pond.”

“And where are you from?”

“I’m from Devon,” he said.

“Oh nice,” Molly replied.

“Are you familiar with Devon?” he asked skeptically.

She shook her head, “Not at all.” George laughed and she added, “Can’t say we learned much European geography in school.”

“So Devon is on the Western coast. It’s close to Cornwall which you may have heard of.”

“Yes, Cornwall I know.”

“Yeah so we’re a bit further north. And our town is rather small, mostly farms. Muggles primarily inhabit the area so we keep to ourselves for the most part.”

“And how did you like that?”

He sighed, “I loved my upbringing, but there’s a reason I moved closer to the city. I needed a little more action and excitement.”

“Now that I understand.”

“What’s your favorite part about London?” he asked.

She thought for a moment, “I love everything about London. I can’t quite put my finger on why. When I first came here when I was younger, I just had a feeling in my stomach that this was where I wanted to be. I’m a very logical person and I had never really experienced a feeling like that. So I followed it and never looked back.”

“Do you think you’ll stay here long term?”

She nodded, “I miss my family terribly and I would love to be closer to home, but I can’t imagine leaving London right now.”

“Well good. I had to make sure you weren’t planning to up and leave.”

“Nah, not my style,” she joked.

At this point, Molly had slowed her walking pace and came to a halt. George took a few steps ahead and turned around.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked.

“Well we’ve reached our destination,” she said. He looked at her with a puzzled look. “This is my apartment,” she said, directing her attention to the window situated on top of the teashop where they were currently standing.

“Did you just trick me into walking you home?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” she smirked. “But I’m hoping you’ll come upstairs with me for a nightcap.”

Molly noticed him perk up ever so slightly as a small smile spread across his face. “I couldn’t possibly turn that down.” Molly smiled and gently dropped his hand as she fished her keys out of her pocket. They walked up the narrow staircase that led to her tiny one bedroom apartment. Before unlocking the door, Molly pulled out her wand and muttered a quick spell that George recognized to be a charm to tidy up.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company tonight,” she explained.

“Does that mean you’re messy normally?” he challenged.

“Well...it's more clutter than anything. Does that…bother you?”

“Not at all. I’m one of six dear, I’m used to clutter.”

Molly sighed with relief as she opened the door to her magically cleaned apartment. It was kitschy and cramped, yet very comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” she smiled, as she walked over to the bar cart to pour a couple firewhiskeys. George took off his suit jacket and laid it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. He slipped off his shoes and placed them neatly by the front door. Molly padded over barefoot to the couch and George followed with ease.

“Cheers,” she said, as they clinked glasses. Molly took a generous sip from her glass to combat her nerves. She hadn’t expected any of this and she was surprised at how bold she had acted around George. She liked him and she was sure about that, but she wasn’t quite sure what her next move was.

Molly placed her glass on the coffee table and slid in a little bit closer to George. “Thank you for tonight,” she said genuinely, as she placed a delicate hand on his leg.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he replied. George shifted and put his arm around her shoulders. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.

“I had a wonderful time with you.”

“Can I take you out again next week?”

Molly simply nodded and smiled at him. George sighed and cupped her cheek. “Have I told you how absolutely stunning you are?”

Molly giggled and said, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“It’s the truth, I’m not just saying that.”

She blushed, “I didn’t think you were. Your eyes said it all.”

“Now that is not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“My eyes say it all yet your eyes aren’t giving me anything,” he joked.

“Really? You aren’t getting the message that I’m trying to send you?”

“You’re going to have to try harder darling because I’m not getting anything.”

“Oh, you know what…I’m better at sending messages with my lips than my eyes,” she flirted.

“Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

That was all the encouragement George needed. He leaned in towards Molly, planning to tease her a little but as soon as he felt her breath he couldn’t help himself. He gently placed his hand on the back of her neck and through her hair as his lips connected with hers.

The electricity was unlike anything he had ever felt before. If he thought she was the one before, now he was certain.

“Wow,” she breathed, catching her breath for a moment.

“That good, huh?” George joked.

“Can we do that again?” Molly asked, tugging on George’s tie.

“As you wish,” he said, enveloping her lips in his. It wasn’t long before the two were horizontal on the couch. Molly felt like a giddy teenager and couldn’t get enough of George. His musky scent was driving her wild.

George slowly kissed up her neck to her ear, where he nibbled on her ear lobe. That set her over the edge.

“We should…move to the bedroom,” Molly suggested.

George popped up to look at her, “Are you sure?”

Molly nodded enthusiastically, “I’m sure.” George stood and scooped up Molly in his arms as she giggled and he carried her into the bedroom where the festivities would continue.

“Wow,” George said, as he collapsed in bed next to Molly.

“Wow is right,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. She curled into George’s chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“I never do this,” Molly stated.

“Well you could’ve fooled me,” he said.

She lightly smacked him on the chest. “I’m not talking about sex,” she chuckled, “I mean that I never bring guys home on the first date.”

“Technically that was our second date, love.”

“Okay well I don’t usually bring guys home on the second date either.”

“Are you trying to tell me you like me?” he joked.

She laughed and said, “I’m trying to tell you that you’re special.”

George felt fuzzy inside. This was the first time that she had been direct with him about her feelings. He was starting to see a future with her.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?” he asked.

“We could go to brunch…or we could make some breakfast here. And then if it’s nice we could go for a walk in the park. If it’s not nice we can go see a movie.”

“All I want is to spend the day with you darling.”

“Will you take me to your shop tomorrow?” she asked.

“You want to see the shop?” he looked at her with a smile.

She nodded, “I want to learn everything about you.”

George kissed her temple and pulled her in closer to him. “I would love nothing more than to share that with you.”

Molly smiled and pecked him a few times on the lips. She turned and pulled George around her so they were spooning. George kissed her shoulder and wished her good night as she drifted off to sleep.

George was soothed by her steady breathing and felt himself grow tired, but his mind was reeling which was preventing him from falling asleep. He couldn’t believe how perfectly things had gone and that his patience had actually paid off. His instincts were spot on and he knew that this girl was the one for him. George recognized that they were in the early stages of something special, but he knew he had found his soul mate.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x oc #george weasley series #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

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Fic Writer Questions

I was tagged by @neonponders, thank you so much, love! 🔅🔅🔅💓💓

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have a few accounts? xD I’ve got 23 in the one I’m using now, but it's all very tiny.

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

54,159

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

mmmm…

Game of Thrones

Supernatural

Teen Wolf

Harry potter

Pacific rim

Stranger Things

And a few minor fandoms

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

‘That’s how you close an open wound’ | ‘Kinda wanna make us happen’ | ‘It burns in my tongue’ | ‘The Buckley-Hargrove dilemma’ | ‘Forget the paths written in the palm of your hand’

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I always, always try to. Sometimes It might take me a little while to get to things but I try to never forget to answer. I honestly appreciate the effort it takes to leave a comment or a note or tags in a reblog, and I also try to always answer to those. I think it’s important to show to that person how much it means to you that they’ve taken the time to reach out. Because it is so important to the writer. So important it can even be determinant for us to keep on writing.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Uff. It was a Ned/Robert, for Game of Thrones (more like Asoiaf). And I basically cried the whole time. I still do, when I re-read it. I managed to actually capture something, in that one.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Sometimes? I wrote a Supernatural/Lost Boys thing back in the day that’s still 2? 3? Chapters from being finished? Hopefully one day. And I have not as much a crossover as an ‘inspired on’ the Goonies universe Teen Wolf fic where Derek and Stiles go to Stiles’ mom natal town to investigate a polish ghost pirate ship while falling in love. And a tiny harringrove /Men in Black au where Agent S and Agent B end up paired with a demo-puppy.

Wich one's the craziest, I honestly don't know. All of them feel pretty ??? to me! xD

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeh, a few times. Basically just bc of writing m|m, of bc my 'awful writing' or for catboy!Steve xD.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yep. I’ve always considered myself more smut writer than anything else. Now I guess I’m a smut writer with pretensions xD. (Truth be told, when I started writing I didn't imagine I would be capable of writing anything more than that). So I wasn’t actyally writing that much smut when I landed on harringrove. I was more focused on the pretensions (aka the gosh pirate ship fic). But harringrove and their chemistry hit me hard, I literally put aside everything else and started writing them like crazy, including lots of smut bc hfahfsafhfhsifhs. Another reason is that it’s hard for me to keep other kinds of stories short, but smut not that much (I get an idea for an slightly emotionally charged scene I like and I suddenly feel the need to write 10k for it minimum). So I focused more on smutty stuff when I jumped into this language, as a way to have something finished on my hands, feel like I was making some kind of progress (BUT ALSO: THE CHEMISTRY).

And I guess my smut comes in diametric opposites, or at least that’s how I perceive it. Plain, straightforward smut, or heavily (in my head, at least) emotional smut. I’M IN LOVE WITH the way we can use touch and slow pace and physical sensations and glances to enhance what we’re saying about emotions in a sexual scene.

Also, and contradictorily, smut is so hard to write sometimes for me! So another good thing is that when I finish one smutty story I suddenly feel like a can write anything! Haha.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeh. A few times. Both Sterek oneshots :(.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yess! <3<3<3< To Chinese and Russian and English and I <3<3<3<3<3<3<33<3<3<3<

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Was about two once, with a friend. But sadly both out lives became real busy, so didn’t. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll be cut for it, but I wanted to test it.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

The last ship I land on always feels like my fav to me. But it might be true in this case. Bc yeah, harringrove.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ufff, too many.

What are your writing strengths?

Uh. Eh. Well. I hopeguess sometimes it sounds good? I can’t control that in eng as much as i do in spa bc I don’t have any real knowledge of the phonology but, well. I try. And that’s one of the aspects I put more thought/work into because I LOVE that.

Sometimes I like my dialogue and sometimes I like my pacing/rhythm. Sometimes I feel like I’ve managed to convey/describe one feeling the way I wanted to.

I dunno. I try to keep my head in a the ‘get the work done’ space not as much as in the ‘is good’. Not easy but, again, try is the key word in here.

I rely a lot in the editing process but I think I’m actually good at that. At least, when I finish, I like the prettified version way more than the ‘raw’ one.

What are your writing weaknesses?

My writing reads the same way my brain works: in a cluttered, messy way. And I don’t like it but. I feel like I can’t change it. Can control it, sometimes. I manage to keep the ‘too much’ at bay but other times it just wins me. I also keep rolling my eyes at how sticky-sweet I can get and despise the way I keep repeating formulas and sentence structures (I feel you @neonponders ) but. Ugh. They just. Happen? Gah.

But! I actually feel more at peace with all that than it might look like xD. ‘Cause the alternatives is not writing and that I cannot do so 🤷‍♂️

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Ahhh, I LOVE IT! Started doing it with the kegboys, basically to treat myself XD, and I’ve got it in a few wips and also in this dumb thing I wrote. I think it’s fun, and it also adds certain feeling of expansion to the world the characters live in, helps us remember there’s more (people, places, types of lives and ways of communicating and meanings) aside from the ones represented in the scene/wholeness of the story. I’m aware that too much can be confusing and tiring for the reader, but not more than a bit is needed, really. Also, can be used to induce some fun misunderstandings xD.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Some fantasy book series I was reading at the moment, during my ‘epic fantasy’ phase xD.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably one supernatural fic I wrote ages ago. It isn’t particularly well written or anything. But was one of the first longer-ish things I wrote. And I still feel proud about that one. And I always felt so happy writing Theon Greyjoy, so I really love the things I wrote for him. And the ship fic, again, if I ever finish it! Except I feel like I can’t stop writing harringrove.

I’m tagging! @memes-saved-me @edith-moonshadow @disdaidal @dyingontheharringrovehill @wherearetheplums @c0bblenygma @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger @pretty-bratty @ghostofjellyfishforgotten

#tagged!!!#thanks neonponders 💖💖💖💖💖#this was fun #withoneheadlight

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bella-donna418 · 4 years

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Gift

Cross-post: Wattpad

A/N: This is actually an experiment to see what you guys will think before I start taking requests! (My writing sucks actually ;-;)

Chapter 126 and 132 spoilers! This was also based on a doujinshi I saw here which made me tear up right after I just woke up lmaooo.

(If you don't like getting spoiled, and I oof. But if you do, then I guess proceed LMAOOO. Sorry for those who don't like getting spoiled which will make you unable to read this, since "spoilers".)

Also in this, Eren is uh r.i.p-

Also, for the link of the doujinshi, see end notes!

~~~

"Devote your heart. I'll see you later, Hanji."

~~~

It's been a few years ever since the rumbling has been stopped, years Eren died, mourning that have been stopped long ago.

~~~

"Say, Levi. What if we just run away? Two of us alone, eh?"

Her voice, the way she said it. It still lingered in his head, making him long for her more. She wasn't by his side anymore. It was just him to take care of the grown-up 'brats' and be like a parental figure he and Hanji tried fulfilling years ago.

It was difficult, but gladly, they managed to keep themselves busy instead of whining, to Levi's relief.

Everything was back to normal, surprisingly, almost no buildings were damaged, only a few to none. The Survey Corps Headquarters was still standing on its ground, undamaged.

~~~

The sky was weeping, bad weather today. The atmosphere lingering around was so cold that it can send anyone shivers once the air hits their skin.

As for the headquarters, the halls and rooms were pretty much empty. It feels so... peculiar. Usually, it would be filled with people chatting, having some bickering, but many sacrifices were made, and with it, lots of losses.

Levi was walking to his room in his cleaning outfit, a somber look on his face while carrying his usual cleaning supplies. It's been a while, and it will definitely need some cleaning business since it was unattended for a long time, and obviously, dust will be cluttered in places to his dismay.

~~~

Opening the door, and just as expected. Dust was all over the place making him cough a bit. He groaned and began cleaning, stumbling upon items that were there before, yet blur in memory.

But what caught his attention was a box wrapped as a gift covered in a medium amount of dust on his desk, a paper on top of it.

He slowly walked towards his desk, head trying to recall if he has seen this box before. He took the paper that seemed to be a bit worn out, yet the contents were still legible. He began reading the contents.

~~~

By the time you're probably reading this, I may not be with you, or if luck has it, still with you ahahaha!

But anyway, sorry to go inside your room without permission, Levi. I hope you won't kill me for doing so, but it was urgent, forgive me?

Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday! Congrats on another year of living. No... not living ahahaha, but for surviving. It's also been years since we've met, I'm surprised we've been friends for that long, or what you perceive it to be... but friends do sound nice for me.

We'd often have arguments, you scolding me, but being honest, I'm surprised we make up afterward, for hmm... maybe about 3-7 hours after it? You making the first move though.

But hey, these years we've gotten closer and worked well together! Shocking, isn't it? But I'm alright with it. You know, I miss everyone. After all, it's just you and I... after all the losses we endured, even our dearest friend.

But we weren't alone, we still had those kids to take care of, hahahaha!

Say, Levi. If one day I finally rested in peace, after this fight, would you always remember me?

I'm sorry for such a dark and emotional question ahaha! I know, you might pull my hair or even do something worse than that for asking such a thing, but life's too short, eh?

But if that day does come, I'm pretty sure you'll be living your life after everything's over. I doubt that 'Humanity's Strongest Soldier' will die. Right, Levi?

Oh! I hope you like my gift, even though you'd definitely see this after everything IS over.

Who knows? Maybe I can watch you open it physically. But I'm sorry, I do have doubts that I'd survive, so maybe I can watch you open it... without seeing me probably.

P.s I bought it with my own money, so please be careful with it! I'll have you know, it's fragile and I might find you and kill you myself if you do break it! Also, don't get too attached to it too!

Oh, and if you're reading this after I left it in your room, I'll be needing the paperwork in a day or so!

Sincerely yours,

Hanji Zoë

~~~

Levi clutched the paper tighter than necessary, hands trembling as they form a fist holding on to the paper as if it was the writer themself, water forming in his eyes bit by bit.

His grip loosened and his eyes locked at the box. He began unwrapping it carefully, just like she said.

There, the box contained a tea set. No wonder why she said it was fragile. He felt a small smile form on his lips, as the water that accumulated in his eyes flowed as tears, taking a deep sigh. He then softly muttered out;

"Thank you, Four Eyes."

~~~

A/N: You can look at the doujinshi here and also this (I actually used the part 2 for inspiration so it’s not the same as it, but I’d like you guys to have the completed deal!)

35 notes · View notes

bb8sworld · 4 years

Text

— litoreus, part i

pairing: god of the sea!obi-wan kenobi x reader

word count: 7k (*sweats nervously*)

a/n: greetings, and welcome to the first part of my new series! i don’t know how better to summarize this story than by saying that kara (@karasong) said “neptune is a dilf” then val (@milleniumvalcon) said a statue of poseidon looked like obi-wan, and it spiraled from there. so many thanks to the discord for the idea of this poseidon!obi au.

-- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ -- ☆ --

Destiny. Fate. Will. Luck. Fortune. Chance. Predestination.

Words Obi-Wan Kenobi was intimately familiar with in a multitude of different tongues, languages, dialects, and scripts. Words that have altered in connotation throughout history but have remained steadfast in their use. Words that he didn’t believe in but knew nonetheless. As someone who has been around as long as he has, and as someone who knows the inner workings of the universe and was created shortly after it’s conception, he’s aware that the ideas of Fate and Destiny were innately… human. Something clung onto by ordinary people who dwelled on the Earth and needed reassurance for an occurrence in their lives or ideas blamed for any wrongdoing that came their way.

No, Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t believe in Fate, Destiny, Fortune, or whatever other terms may be used to describe these phenomena. Everything had an order, everything had a purpose, and things didn’t happen “by chance” or “just because.” They happened because they were supposed to, not because some outside force separate from the godly beings decided to intervene. As a godly being himself, he thinks he would know if there were outside forces beyond him and his fellow gods having any say in the universe.

One of the many perks of being a god, he supposed.

Being a god was tricky business, and it was a job that often didn’t pay in kind. From his very creation, Obi-Wan had struggled with this role of his, from who he was, who he was meant to be, and how he was supposed to act.

Despite being named Obi-Wan Kenobi upon “birth,” he has gone by a plethora of different names throughout his immortal life thus far—such as Olokun, Lir, Hapi, Poseidon, Neptune, Enbilulu, and Njord, just to name a few. So many names to describe one being who ruled, guarded, and protected the seas and oceans. Each one attuned to the civilization in which the name originated from, but all converging together to describe the same god. And from it came an outpouring of love and awe. It was flattering, to say the least, that humans at one point cared so much about him that they would craft pieces of artwork dedicated to him. Or how they would construct temples of worship for him so that they might have a place to pray for safe voyages, either for themselves or loved ones. It made him feel good and loved and appreciated and a whole litany of positive affirmations that humans use to describe this gooey feeling nestled within him.

Obi-Wan loved to help humanity and had always been infatuated with them—their cultures, lifestyles, relationships, emotions, everything. And any time he helped, he got to learn a little bit more about what made humans so human. Sometimes when he did intervene in their matters and was praised for it, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it felt like to be human. To be loved, appreciated, adored, wanted.

But being a god wasn’t always so pleasant and flattering.

Sometimes, if a storm churned in the ocean and caused a shipwreck, his name would be cursed at in such hatred and despair as grief overtook the humans. It stung and was incredibly painful to hear, but unfortunately, he didn’t always have control over those situations. Whenever this happened, he would wonder if the feelings he felt were the same ones humans did in response to these occurrences—unloved, hated, disgusted, guilty, remorseful.

Obi-Wan really, truly wanted to take suffering away from the very humans who had fascinated him for centuries, but that’s not the way the universe works. Matters of life and death were not his jurisdiction, even if either of these happened in the blue waves below. It fell to the god of the underworld who was the overseer of death, so therefore Obi-Wan’s hands were tied. He only had control over the voyage's journey, not the destination of the passengers, meaning he was often forced to watch as lives were taken at sea and his name was sworn against in wrath.

But like with all things brought to the attention of humanity, people move on. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, as times changed and new beliefs gained traction, that meant humans moved on from their old ways and religions—from the other gods and from him.

Despite his presence once being well-known and called upon in times of need and worship and gratitude, his importance dwindled in the eyes of the humans until he was all but nonexistent. His very being and all his life’s work were boiled down to a name that was somehow both him yet not him, written offhandedly in a history textbook for children to be aware of for a test but to forget immediately afterward. His life became a story sometimes told in a mythology book or two, often censored and abridged for audiences to “understand better.” He became a name people were familiar with but knew little about.

And so humanity had moved on from him, but he hadn’t moved on from humanity.

He was still endlessly intrigued by everything they were about and everything they had to offer, but because of his godly status, he never dared to go down and explore for himself, despite other gods having done so for one reason or another. And every day he was a little more tempted to go down and see what was new and exciting. Every time he saw another god leave to head down, he got a little bit closer to asking if he could join.

That being said, he did stay connected where he could. Throughout all of human history, art had been made in his name, and sometimes he would clear his mind and connect to those works as he did back in the ancient days and listen in on what was being said. Sometimes he caught snippets of stories from those who stood nearby. Sometimes he heard tales of his own life being taught to a younger generation in museums. But it had been a long time since he heard anyone talk to him. And despite his lack of belief in Fate or Destiny or whatever you wanted to call it, he couldn’t help but wish for the times to change and for one person to talk to him instead of about him. He wished that someone would answer his pathetic call and just talk to him.

So imagine his surprise when one day someone picked up.

At first, he thought it to be an accident. No way had someone genuinely believed he was real and manifested the powers to protect them when they traveled at sea, nor had someone directly contacted him in years for any reason. With all the new methods of transportation and exploration in the seas and oceans, most people went on those devices willingly without saying a quick prayer to him for the waters to be safe. Which was fine, really. He knew his place. Doesn’t mean he didn’t feel a little pang of hurt every time he saw a cruise ship head out or people go boating or children learn how to canoe.

But no… this call was different. It wasn’t a history lesson, or someone singing to themselves near a statue of him, or just some background clutter. No, this one felt different. And so, Obi-Wan sat on the floor of his room, closed his eyes, and began to slip into a meditative state in order to hear the call better.

“—maybe… we hang the light a foot more to the right? And tilt it just a tiny bit backward… there. Perfect! Look at you, Poseidon—or do you prefer Neptune—whatever, it doesn’t matter. But look at you, all cleaned up, restored, illuminated, and ready to go on display when the exhibit opens tomorrow. Let’s hope the visitors appreciate you in your polished state. Are you ready?”

Ah, so a new exhibit was going up featuring, presumably, a statue of him made by one of the ancient Greeks or Romans he oversaw so many centuries ago. He was about to tune out the voice and slip out of his meditative state when the voice picked up again.

“—god I must sound crazy. Just look at me, talking to a statue of a god who doesn’t even exist.” A beat. “I wish you did though, you seem like you’d be better company than some of the other people around here. Wishful thinking, eh, Neptune? Or… Poseidon… ugh, this is what happens when it’s an ancient Greek and Roman exhibit, there are too many double names—”

And off the voice went on a tangent about finishing up illuminating each of the iconic pieces of artwork and organizing pamphlets about the new exhibit in the information stands. From the sounds of it, the person behind the voice presumably worked at some museum where a new exhibit of him and the other gods in his life was being put together.

Maybe… maybe he could go down and visit it sometime. At least to see the art he hadn’t seen in many years. And if he happened to stumble across the worker with the voice he just tuned into, then he’d consider that a happy accident despite that very claim going against his beliefs about Fate. But how could he head down from his home in the clouds without raising suspicion among the other gods? He was notorious for keeping his distance once humanity forgot him, instead preferring to observe from afar and rejecting any offers to head down to the land.

The answer came in the form of Anakin Skywalker—also known as Camulus, Svetovid, Teutates, Ares, Mars, Odin, and Montu, to name a few—the god of war and the manifestation of the spirit of battle. He was a frequent visitor of the land and was undoubtedly Obi-Wan’s best friend. Not to mention, he regularly asked Obi-Wan to join him in hopes of getting him “out of his hermit lifestyle and back to the land of the living,” to quote Anakin, but Obi-Wan had either made excuses or flat out rejected his offer. But maybe it was high time he said yes.

With his plan in mind, now all he had to do was wait for Anakin to approach him and ask. And sure enough, just a few earth days later, Anakin showed up outside of Obi-Wan’s room with a cheeky smile on his face and a “ready to be done with being a recluse?” comment as expected. And though Anakin wouldn’t ever admit it to Obi-Wan’s face, Obi-Wan could see the true concern reflecting in his eyes alongside the expectation of getting rejected. Typically, there would be a pain in his eyes following each rejection, likely stemming from the wedge that sat between them because, for all that they were best friends—brothers even—they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on godly matters. From this came the worry that always sat at the corner of every conversation because Obi-Wan (admittedly so) had been self-isolating from humanity and became a stickler for following the rules of the gods. Contrast that to Anakin who was laxer in his ways and open to embracing his feelings and attachments.

But that concern and pain would end today. Obi-Wan was tired of feeling sorry for himself and hiding away up here and being lonely despite never actually being alone.

He was ready for adventure again.

And so, it was with a resounding sigh and faked exasperation that he said, “Oh, alright.”

If he took a little pleasure in being able to cause such a shocked facial expression on Anakin’s face, then that was for him to know. Though, it was a moment later when Anakin’s face split into a wide grin that he felt any lingering doubts about going down to earth dissipate. Yes, this was the right choice. If not for himself, then for his relationship with Anakin.

The act of getting down to earth was a rather easy task consisting of exiting through a golden archway that teleported them to a location of their choosing. Obi-Wan hopped on Anakin’s coordinates and the two reappeared in a forest Obi-Wan was unfamiliar with, the lights and sounds of a nearby town being their guide on the trek.

Before stepping into the hustle and bustle of the town, Anakin and Obi-Wan had “normalized” themselves from their usual glowing, almost angelic appearance into something more humane and easily looked over, particularly nondescript and unassuming, using the powers they possessed. The less attention they brought to themselves, the better. It was safer not to risk the chance of revealing themselves. Back in historic and ancient times, it was more common for them to fall into crowds of people undercover and interact, getting to know and understand the circumstances humanity faced up close and personal instead of from a distance. But that had all changed once Obi-Wan, Anakin, and the fellow gods above all became characters in a history book.

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan treasured this one act of using his powers for fun instead of remaining dormant and simply controlling the seas in the same patterns and cycles. He looked over at Anakin, wanting to see if he was ready to head into the streets, when he was surprised to see Anakin’s eyes already looking his way, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, exasperation smothering the very word, “What is it?”

“Finally decided on getting a haircut?” Anakin replied, laughter playing on the edge of the question. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the question. Yes, usually when he came down to earth he sported a longer hairstyle—a godly mullet, as Anakin oh so lovingly called it, business in the front and the only fun you know how to have in the back—but times had changed, and Obi-Wan had figured it was time for him to as well, at least a little bit. So he did. It was less of a haircut and more of the decision to manifest with shorter hair, unlike a certain someone standing next to him who had apparently decided the opposite.

“Strong words coming from someone who’s sporting a mullet themselves,” he quipped back, turning his attention forward and beginning the trek to the town. Affronted was the only word to describe how Anakin reacted, cemented in his shock, before he shook out of his state and rushed to catch up with his friend, secretly happy to see Obi-Wan engaging in their familiar back-and-forth.

“It is not a mullet, Obi-Wan,” Anakin refuted. “It’s stylish and helps me blend in.”

Obi-Wan gives a quiet hmm in acknowledgment before replying, “Whatever you say, Anakin.”

And so the trek continued until they found themselves in a bustling town with car horns honking, people shoving themselves through crowds, and bright lights illuminating around them. It was both entirely overwhelming yet hauntingly intriguing. For as much as he wanted to look away from the circus before him, Obi-Wan couldn’t stop admiring and absorbing all the information thrown at him. Of course he was aware of how the earth and humanity had progressed from his perch in the clouds, but while it’s one thing to hear and know of something, it’s another thing to witness and experience that which you had heard so much about.

Through his daze, he’s just barely able to keep up with Anakin as they take to the sidewalks, Anakin walking in an apparent familiar cadence as if he already knows where he’s heading and knows the trek well. Perhaps there’s a destination Anakin frequents on his jaunts down to earth? Maybe Obi-Wan should’ve asked what Anakin had in mind before he agreed to this excursion, but it’s too little too late for that now. But still, asking the destination of their slightly fast walking couldn’t hurt, right?

“You know, Anakin,” he starts, “You never told me where you were intending for us to go today.”

“Oh,” Anakin flounders for a moment, as if not expecting the question. Curious. “I, uh, well I figured we’d go to the local art museum.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan is unconvinced, but plays along anyway, only the slightest bit of suspicion seeping into his tone.

“Well… I know you love learning and appreciating the more—how do you phrase it?—refined and civilized things in life,” Anakin jokes, “So I figured we could go to an art museum together.”

Well wasn’t that just the shock of the century. Art museums were far from Anakin’s usual environment. Why? Anakin was loud, brash, and impulsive, constantly itching to go out and meet action head-on, act now think later, a complete contrast to the usually quiet, serene, and contemplative nature that art museums held dear. And for all that Obi-Wan loved Anakin, there were certain environments he would never dare to be with him, art museums being one of them. But, considering Obi-Wan had agreed to join and Anakin actually seemed somewhat eager to go, he figured he could indulge Anakin just this once.

Besides, Obi-Wan figured there must’ve been some ulterior motive at play here, and if he played his cards right, he could figure it out.

“An art museum?” he asks casually, hoping maybe he’ll get a hint of this mysterious motive.

But Anakin immediately picks up on the slight curiosity in his words. “Yeah, why? You don’t want to go?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind going, I just didn’t know you’d be interested in that.”

“Well, people change, Obi-Wan. Maybe I’ve taken a page from your book and learned how to be stuffy and grandfatherly.”

Rude, Obi-Wan muses, but an unlikely story. He leaves it at that and instead asks Anakin what else he had on the itinerary for the day as they walk toward the museum. Apparently, the art museum is the highlight of the day, though Anakin does promise that if Obi-Wan would be open to indulging in human food—something that honestly means nothing to them because they can’t be satisfied on non-godly food—there’s a cafe not too far from the museum that they can hang out and people watch at. All-in-all, not a bad day. Could’ve been way worse given how differently he and Anakin define “a fun day out.”

Eventually, they do make it to the art museum in one piece, and Obi-Wan immediately takes note of how quaint it looks against the glamour of the surrounding town. Less bright colors and flashes of light on the exterior but still a commanding presence with its masonry that almost demands you to look at it and compels you to go inside.

They stand in the queue to get tickets and go inside, but once they do, Anakin starts walking off before Obi-Wan can even grab a map of the museum. He manages to snag one and just barely finds Anakin in the crowd of the entry foyer, leaving Obi-Wan to trail behind a couple of feet once he catches up as Anakin guides him to the Medieval and Renaissance art exhibit. They’re only a few feet inside the exhibit when someone calls out “Ani!” and the two whip their heads around in-sync to the sound of the voice, a chorus of shushing surrounding them.

It’s a short woman who approaches the pair, a charming smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes. She immediately goes to embrace Anakin and Obi-Wan thinks: ah, ulterior motive discovered. He looks at her professional attire, the low but elegant bun her brown hair is in, and the name tag he just barely caught a glimpse of and easily deduces that she must be a staff member here. Maybe once the two finally release each other Obi-Wan can say his greetings and find out more.

Luckily, she seems to be the sensible one between the two and releases Anakin after making eye contact with Obi-Wan, as if just now realizing that Anakin came with company. She tries to be blasé about the overly friendly interaction with Anakin by plowing forward in her introduction, holding her hand out for a handshake. Very interesting, indeed.

“I’m Padmé Amidala, one of the curators for this exhibit in the museum. You must be one of Anakin’s friends,” she greets. Obi-Wan takes her hand and gives it a slight shake. Her grip is firm but not tight, giving just enough of her away for him to understand that she is a person to be respected and in awe of but not feared. It’s easy to begin understanding how her dynamic with Anakin works.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Oh, so you’re the famous Obi-Wan. Anakin has told me so much about you.” Obi-Wan gives a side-eyed glance to Anakin, noting the innocent expression he wears and wondering just how much he’s revealed to Padmé.

“Interesting, he hasn’t mentioned you at all,” Obi-Wan responds, giving them both a teasing smile in some semblance of reassurance that he isn’t offended by this fact.

However, Obi-Wan can feel the lingering hesitation and slight nerves radiating off of Anakin, which is an unsurprising development. Gods aren’t meant to have deep bonds with humans. Loose friendships are typically accepted with only slight frowns, but once it strays into a tight-knit bond and attachments form, especially romantic ones, they’re frowned upon greatly. And between the two of them, Anakin is less of a stickler for the rules, instead preferring to live by his own interpretations and caveats to the rules—which means Obi-Wan knows that Anakin fears this friendship of his with Padmé will be scrutinized and berated.

Which… okay, is a valid concern considering Obi-Wan’s devotion to the rules, but Obi-Wan hates to be a snitch on his best friend. And as long as he doesn’t witness any actions that would confirm a more serious relationship, particularly romantic, Obi-Wan is willing to turn his eye to the obvious heart eyes and lingering touches the two share. Can’t tattle if there’s room for doubt and question.

He just hopes Anakin knows this himself. And he especially hopes that Anakin hasn’t told Padmé that he’s a god.

He decides to shake off these thoughts and turn the conversation to safer territory to try and ease Anakin some. “So, Padmé, I take it you work here. What is it that you do?”

Immense relief hits him like a tidal wave from Anakin with happiness trailing behind like seafoam as the wave recedes. Not wanting to make any open comments about Anakin’s feelings and potentially clue Padmé into their more than human nature, he settles for a quick moment of eye contact before focusing back on Padmé.

“I’m one of the museum curators here,” she confirms, “I mainly specialize with art in the Medieval and Renaissance exhibit as well as our Impressionist pieces.” She pauses to size him up, silently scrutinizing him and his reactions. Whatever it is she finds must satisfy her, because she continues as if nothing happened, “Have you been here before, Obi-Wan? We recently got some new pieces on loan from some collectors and other museums that are worth checking out.”

“This is my first time, actually,” Obi-Wan starts before Anakin jumps in, quick on his verbal heels, “Right! And I was going to show him around. Make sure he visits the highlights at least.”

Instantly Padmé’s face drops ever so slightly at the idea of this conversation ending and her parting from Anakin, but she composes herself well. But Obi-Wan would be blind not to notice Anakin’s disappointment too, so he decides to take matters into his own hands and says, “Though I’m more than capable of wandering on my own if you’d rather stay and chat with Padmé, Anakin.”

“Are you sure, Obi-Wan? I was the one who invited you out after all—”

“Nonsense, I’ll be more than fine on my own. Maybe then I’ll actually get to appreciate the art and read the descriptions like the grandfather you think I am,” he jokes. “I’ll meet you back by the entrance in a couple hours. Pleasure meeting you, Padmé, I hope we meet again soon.”

And just like that, Obi-Wan is off and he no longer has to be surrounded by the obvious desire for something more between the two that was only stifled from being acted on by his presence. When he’s a good distance away, he decides to stop for a moment and actually look at the map in his hand, and he’s pleasantly surprised by just how many exhibits, art movements, and cultural regions are housed in this art museum. With the knowledge that he may not be able to knock out every exhibit in one visit, he decides to make his rounds to the ones that intrigue him the most.

He starts in the African Art section, admiring the ceramics and textiles created in various regions of Africa, before moving onto the Chinese bronzes, ceramics, and jades exhibition and it’s next-door Japanese screens and paintings exhibit. He’s thinking of swinging to modern and contemporary works when he looks at the map in his hands and eyes the Ancient Greek and Roman Art exhibit, reluctance setting in. Obi-Wan always feels a bit of hesitancy whenever admiring ancient creations because he remembers who the artists were and that fact makes him feel old and worn down in ways he never expected gods to feel like. Besides, wouldn’t it be narcissistic of himself to go and admire the times of old and perhaps even stumble upon a work of him?

Caution thrown to the wind, Obi-Wan decides to make his way to the Ancient Greek and Roman Art exhibit. With his head held high, he spots the tall glass doors to the exhibit and opens them slowly before stepping inside and almost immediately being hit by a whirlpool of nostalgia. Just seeing the vases, plates, coins, cups, relics, and statues on display make him nearly stumble on his feet. The faces staring back at him on the head busts by the entrance are so eerily similar to those of his friends that he feels his breathing stutter for a moment. It’s true that back in those times the gods were more… open to visiting earth. Back then they were more willing and able to interact with humanity and be treated kindly in return. Though, the stories of their escapades and interactions always seemed to be skewed and embellished among all civilizations.

But one thing that transpires over almost every civilization who ever believed in the gods and goddess that Obi-Wan is connected to is that they managed to nail one key feature of the gods in their stories: their extremities. Because at the end of the day, that’s what the gods all were—the best and worst of humanity, but maximized.

Obi-Wan prefers not to think about that fact and how, subsequently, he feels more than humans do and also has an awareness for the feelings of the other gods.

No, best not to dwell on that.

He decides that perhaps it’s best to move beyond the entryway and stop clogging up the doorway with his presence, so he begins to move through the exhibit, stopping every now and then to admire a certain work of art. By the time he’s gone through about half the exhibit, the sting of seeing those he knows etched onto bronze or marble is hurting less; he’s thinking he can finally start to appreciate the art more when he hears a voice.

But it’s not just any voice, it’s a voice he recognizes. And it’s not Anakin, nor is it Padmé. It’s a voice he’s heard before but he doesn’t know the person it belongs to. It’s familiar enough that he clings to it, scrambling through past and recent memories until finally it clicks:

The voice he’s hearing is the voice that recently talked to him via one of the statues commemorated in his honor.

And just like that, he turns his head around and begins to look around for the source. It’s like he’s a ship lost at sea and this voice is his guiding light home, if only he could find it. It takes a couple more seconds before finally his gaze settles on you, and it’s as if sunlight just burst into the room. He notices your eyes first and the way they shimmer with happiness as you wander through the exhibit, admiring the artworks yourself. But then he catches your smile as you turn to talk to one of the nearby patrons and the very sight of it makes him feel as if the world has just opened wide, opportunities he’s never considered laying out on many paths before him.

He takes a moment to shake himself out of his daze to properly take in your appearance. Judging on your outfit and the name tag that he just barely can’t make out and read, you are obviously a worker here, perhaps a curator like Padmé. You’re wandering the exhibit with an air of pride surrounding you, as if you’re happy that so many people are taking the time to come and appreciate the art before them. Everything about you is intriguing and he wants to introduce himself to you before this high feeling surrounding him comes crashing down and he goes back up to the clouds to spend out his immortal days alone and separated again from humanity.

Just as he’s about to take a few steps in your direction, he feels a harsh force of another body hit him in the side, nearly sending him toppling over onto a head bust next to him. He’s bracing for impact, praying that this piece of art somehow is a counterfeit and doesn’t cost more than he can even fathom (seriously, exactly how bad is inflation right now?) when he feels hands on his shoulders that push him back onto his feet. His hands immediately latch onto the ones grabbing him as he steadies himself. One he’s back on solid ground, he looks up to go thank whoever caught him when his heart leaps to his throat and he momentarily stops breathing because who else would be his savior than his guiding light?

He barely has time to even admire your speed and strength before you’re talking to him.

“Are you okay?” you ask and oh how he wants to hear more and more and more of your angelic voice. It’s as if you’re a siren, tempting him closer and closer to you until finally he is caught in your eyes and dancing among the many stars that twinkle in them. But suddenly he flushes with the realization that he’s been staring way too long and oh dear this is quite a messy first impression he really needs to redeem himself with something coherent and get this boat sailing back on course—

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah. Fine. I’m fine. Never better, truly.” Shipwreck. What an utter shipwreck this is for him. Maker, he’s making a fool of himself. Amid his internal despair, he hears you giggle at his fumbling and his heart starts beating faster.

“Poseidon right?”

And suddenly his heart stops, his mouth drops every so slightly, and his face whitens. How have you possibly figured him out so quickly?

“What?” Is about all he can muster in response.

“Or Neptune, I guess, depending on which you prefer.” He’s silent. Awestruck. But you must pick up on the confusion and awe on his face because you elaborate, “You know… the sculpture right over there? The big marble one with a man holding a trident? The one you were staring at before you nearly crashed into this poor head bust of Zeus and broke this priceless piece of historic artwork? Really, what did the poor guy ever do to you? Surely he doesn’t deserve his head getting cracked open a second time.”

Oh thank the Maker, you were just referring to the art in the room. Which perhaps he should’ve accounted for instead of internally freaking out because he did willingly enter the Ancient Greek and Roman Art exhibit of the museum.

But you take his silent relief as continued confusion because you are suddenly rambling, “You know, because Zeus already had his head cracked open once by Hephaestus after Zeus swallowed a pregnant Metis and gave birth to Athena through his forehead?” You laugh awkwardly before plowing on, “Maybe I should stop talking now, sorry, sometimes I just go off about all these old myths, I just think they’re fascinating and—sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I?”

He laughs in response to your weak joke and hearty explanation, and he starts to feel a little less wound up and nervous when he notices that you’re feeling the same way.

“No, no, it’s alright! It was very clever. Funny too,” he comments. The two of you share a smile and simply stare into each others’ eyes for a couple moments. But then he begins to worry that he’s making you uncomfortable by maintaining eye contact for longer than normal—except what is “normal”? How much has human etiquette changed since he’d last been on earth? Is this conversation already doomed? He decides to take the gamble anyway and clears his throat as his eyes flicker around the exhibit, trying to think of what else to say to you, before he lands on your name tag (what a pretty name you have) and he says the first thought that comes to mind.

“So, you work here then?” Not the best conversation starter, but it’s something, he supposes. Maker, what is wrong with him? He’s never been so nervous in his entire immortal life, but one conversation with you and suddenly he’s falling victim to all the nerves and anxieties of humans, but dialed up beyond a 10. Gods really are the maximization of humanity’s best and worst. What an awful time to be living this fact. Thankfully, you respond and break him out of his spiraling worries.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been working here for the past couple of years as one of the curators. I actually worked on this exhibit. I helped organize and select all the pieces in the exhibit, arrange restorations and displays, and record all the art you see here. I’ll admit it’s rather hard selecting which art pieces would fit best with the message we’re trying to convey, not to mention the availability of many pieces of art also plays a difficult role, but I like to think it paid off in the end. There’s something special about all the pieces of art here,” you suddenly pause in your speech before walking over to the very Poseidon statue you thought Obi-Wan had been looking at earlier, and he follows, quick on your heels.

You continue, “Like, this statue of Poseidon, for example. It traveled through an ocean of time, across several continents, through several restorations, all to be right here, right now, in this very moment for you and I to admire.” You let out a sigh that Obi-Wan can only describe as wistful. “I can only wonder how it looked when the artist was creating it and when it was first unveiled.”

He wishes how he could tell you about when he first laid eyes on this statue of himself he had nearly burst into tears, sending a light rain over the agora from the intensity of his emotions. But he suppresses the urge. He wasn’t supposed to reveal himself to humanity, and even if he did let something slip, what are the odds that you’d ever believe him? The two of you are not close, and you never will be. His livelihood as a god forbids it.

Still…

There’s something about the sparkle in your eye as you wistfully look at the art, as if looking at it for the first time despite having seen it countless times before, and your passion for the ancient classics that he finds compelling. Initial literal-sweeping-off-his-feet encounter aside, there’s something about you that draws him to you.

You’re entirely intriguing to him, and he can’t quite pinpoint why. Not entirely, at least. It doesn’t hurt that he finds your ramblings of history and art to be adorable. Not that he’s admitting to anything more than simple infatuation at first sight. He wishes he had the chance to get to know you better beyond the confines of this Ancient Greek and Roman exhibit. But the two of you lead entirely different lives and he has to let this go.

But, he can allow himself this one instance of normal human interaction.

“I’m sure it must have been a sight to behold given how important the gods were to the Ancient Greeks and Romans,” he comments.

“Exactly!” Despite being a curator here and knowing the rules of the exhibits like the back of your hand, you are shushed by a nearby patron at your happy exclamation. Obi-Wan laughs softly at the embarrassed look on your face.

“Guess that’s my cue to switch topics,” you joke. Obi-Wan smiles kindly at you before you continue, “Basics then. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it,” he winks at your unimpressed look. Luckily for him though, it cracks and transforms into a brilliant smile as the two of you share a laugh. No harm done.

“Okay, smartass, I’ll rephrase: what’s your name?” you ask. “Not all of us are lucky enough to talk with people who wear name tags.”

“Alright then, since you asked so nicely, I’m Obi-Wan. And it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand for you, which you easily take and give a shake. A slight zing runs through his body at the slight contact, his hand still buzzing even after you two let go.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. Is this your first time here?” you inquire.

“Ah, yes, my friend decided to take me,” Obi-Wan starts, but he can’t help but grumble out, “I think he’s a frequent visitor.”

You let out a giggle at his grumpy tone. “You make it seem as if that’s a bad thing. Surely it’s not that god-awful here?”

“The company sure makes it better,” slips out before he can catch the words, but he’s not blind to the pleased look on your face. Huh. Interesting. “I never thought he was interested in art museums but—”

“Obi-Wan!” Cuts through the air, loud and brash and diluted with the slightest hint of concern, immediately followed by shushing by other patrons. Obi-Wan sighs as he recognizes the voice of Anakin.

“—it would appear that he still hasn’t picked up on museum etiquette despite all those visits.”

You rub his arm gently, a look of playful sympathy on your face as you tell him, “How awful it must be to have a friend that cares about your whereabouts.”

But he’s suddenly finding it very hard to even pretend to be annoyed when you’re touching him with such care. All too soon, your hand is off his arm as Anakin makes himself known, sidling up right to Obi-Wan and immediately grasping his elbow.

“Where on earth were you? We were supposed to meet half an hour ago. I waited for you! And here I was thinking you were the responsible one—” Anakin is cut off by you attempting to diffuse the situation.

“I believe that’s my fault. I kept him here talking to me and I held him up,” you turn back to Obi-Wan, a bright smile on your lips and the stars twinkling once more in your eyes. Maker, if he didn’t know any better he really would think he was looking at the sun, his beacon of light. “It was lovely talking to you, Obi-Wan. Maybe you could come again soon and we can continue this conversation?”

“Of course.” It’s his automatic response, no thoughts, questions, or worries in mind. You just look so hopeful and he’s once again a ship in the night, setting out to sail the high seas but hoping to return to again safely, guided by your light. He can only hope Anakin doesn’t pick up on his infatuation with you.

“Great! I’ll let you two go then. Nice meeting you!” And just like the wind, you’re gone, moving on to other patrons and other works of art, sharing your knowledge and stories and passion with other lucky souls. Maybe he will come back.

“They seemed nice,” Anakin remarks with absolutely no subtly.

“I’m not sure what you think happened between us, but whatever it is, you’re wrong,” and with that Obi-Wan turns and begins walking out of the exhibit before Anakin can refute or comment on Obi-Wan’s building anxiety, giving him no choice but to follow.

The walk out of the museum, their time sitting and people watching at a nearby cafe, and the walk back to the forested area follow a similar pattern: Anakin trying to do some digging with heavy insinuations, Obi-Wan denying vehemently any theories and offering scant details, and neither one willing to back down from their stance. It’s an old familiar rhythm, and despite it being grating at times, it’s nice to feel a sense of normalcy with Anakin once more.

Eventually, they make it back up to their hidden sanctuary in the sky and part ways for the day. Once back in his dwelling, Obi-Wan sits down on a cushioned chair and mulls over his day. While going to the museum was fun and enlightening, his mind wanders back to a certain museum curator. The dark horse of the day. The unexpected detail. His beacon of light.

There’s something more to you, something he wants so desperately to know. He practically itches to go back to the museum and keep talking with you. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and humorous. You’re the sun, moon, and stars. He knows he can’t pursue a romantic relationship with you, and he knows friendships with humans are frowned upon if they get too close, but he reasons to himself that one more visit down to earth to speak with you wouldn’t hurt anyone. With this in mind, he closes his eyes and begins to reach out to see if he can hear you once again, but as he’s doing so, a realization dawns on him.

Meeting you is the closest he’s come to believing in Fate, and despite this going against his beliefs, he’s ready to set sail on this unknown voyage and see where your next meeting takes him.

#so that was a doozy... good grief but i hope it's worth it #i usually don't do taglists but lemme know if you want to be tagged in future parts #because i don't have a schedule soooo #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars one shots #obi wan kenobi #my writing #userkarina #yes a lot of the godly traits were inspired by disney's hercules bc i am basic

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fics-n-stuff · 4 years

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Becoming Number Eight - Pt2; Klaus

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Summary: A little nail-painting bonding session between Klaus and Y/N.

Word Count: 1k

You were wandering the halls of the house, still not familiar with the layout of the huge building after your first week staying there, when you heard quiet muttering from behind a closed door. You knocked lightly, but when you got no response you slowly began to push the door open, worried about the person who was inside.

You found Klaus, sitting curled in on himself on the floor of his bedroom and gently rocking back and forth. He continued to mumble incoherently, not noticing your presence with his head tucked to his knees and his arms wrapped around his head.

“Hey, Klaus?” You said softly but loud enough for him to hear, crouching down in front of him. He jumped, immediately opening his eyes and uncurling his limbs. “What's going on?”

“Oh, nothing.” He said, forcing himself to seem relaxed though you could easily see that he wasn’t. “I’m fine.” You sighed at that, sitting down.

“I know that you guys don’t really trust me.” You nodded, crossing your legs. “I get that. But I’m not stupid, and I can see that there’s something wrong with you right now. And I don’t think anybody else is home.” Klaus bowed his head, his fingers tapping erratically on his legs as he let out a long breath. “Is it about Vietnam?”

“Yeah.” He muttered. You noticed him absentmindedly grab at the dogtag around his neck as he did so.

“I don’t know much about that war.” You told him. “But I’ve heard that it was ugly. Though, I suppose you could say that about all war.” You continued to watch the way that he fiddled with the dogtag, smiling just slightly at the way that it calmed him down. “Can I see that?” You asked, gesturing to it.

When he let go of the dogtag you leaned forward and took it very carefully in your fingers.

“David Katz.” You read out loud. “He must have been special.”

“He was.” Klaus whispered, a ghost of a smile on his face and tears glazing over his eyes. “I’ve never loved anybody like I loved him.”

“Do you talk about him much? With your siblings?”

“No, not really.” He sniffled, taking hold of the dogtag again when you let go of it. “I mostly talked to Ben about it, and he’s gone now too.”

“You can talk to me about it, if you want.” You replied softly. “I know what it feels like too. Loss. Loneliness.” You smiled sadly, your eyes downcast as you both fell into silence. You heard Klaus sniffle again before you felt him gently take hold of your hand.

“Maybe we should trade stories some day.” He mumbled, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. You held his hand in both of yours, glancing up to see him mirroring your sad smile. When you looked back down you noticed the chipped black polish on his nails.

“Can I repaint your nails?” You asked, causing him to look down at his hand.

“Yeah, sure.”

You smiled, releasing his hand so that you could produce a bottle of nail polish remover and some cotton wool out of thin air. He let go of the dogtag so that you could do both of his hands, the two of you settled into silence as you cleaned his nails.

“Where do you keep your nail polish?” You asked, letting go of his fingers as the nail polish remover and cotton wool disappeared again.

“In one of the drawers somewhere.” Klaus answered, pointing vaguely towards the chest of drawers against the wall. “Can’t you just magic some up though?”

“Well, I could, but everything I create disappears when I fall asleep.” You explained as you searched through the drawers. “So your nails would be plain again in the morning.”

Eventually you found an old plastic tub filled with a cluttered array of nail polish that was tucked into the corner of an equally disorganised drawer. You sifted through it, impressed by the assortment of colours and making a mental note to borrow some of them later.

“What about this silver one?” You suggested, holding it up for him to see.

“Yeah, I like that one.” He nodded, and you smiled as you shut the drawer and went to sit back down in front of him. “You know, Alisson used to paint my nails when we were kids.”

“Really? Was that because she wanted to and you let her, or because you wanted her to and she indulged you?”

“Eh, a bit of both.” He answered, and you both chuckled a little.

You hummed absentmindedly as you painted Klaus's nails, the two of you just taking the small amount of time to relax, and when you finished you set the nail polish bottle down on the floor beside you with a contented sigh.

“I think I did a decent job.” You commented as Klaus lifted his hands to look at his nails more closely.

“They’re great. Thanks.”

“No problem. I figured it might cheer you up.” You shrugged, standing up to leave.

“Hey, Y/N.” He called quickly as you were about to leave the room, and you lent against the door frame as you turned back to face him. “With this family... it takes a long time for us to trust people. Don’t take it personally.”

“Don't worry, I don’t.” You smiled with a nod.

“I think you’re gonna fit in really well around here – I really like having you around – you just need to give us all the time to adjust. Even Luther will come around eventually.”

“Thanks, Klaus. I really hope we can be friends.” You gently patted the door frame in an attempt to alleviate the serious atmosphere that had suddenly surrounded you. “Don’t mess up your nails. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

With that you left the room, heading down the hallway towards the stairs when you heard Klaus call after you:

“Ben would have really liked you too!”

It made you smile.

#the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua #tua season 2 #tua x reader #tua klaus #klaus hargreeves #umbrella academy klaus #klaus hargreeves x reader

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tiredcowpoke · 4 years

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TITLE: Of Waters PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Reader REQUEST: I had a couple people wish for a follow up to my other college/university au, “Of Lines”, so here we are. WARNINGS: Some angst, mentions of cheating (in reader’s past, not on each other.) NOTE: I hope this holds up to expectations. lol Also, I’m sorry for the quiet, between a wedding and university starting this week, I wanted to get something out before things really pick up. Again, the reader can be seen as gender neutral as there isn’t a focus on it.

It was starting to eat you up a bit.

It hadn’t been so present in the beginning, sharing the friendly, albeit awkward messages to figure out where you both wanted to eat for that first date. You both had settled on some sort of little diner in the city--homey and relaxed, decent food. There had been an inkling in the back of your mind during that whole meal, something that tried to scratch at the surface of your mind, but you had pushed it down.

It had been nice, relaxed. It was a little odd to see Arthur outside of the office and what little memories you still had of him in the classroom, but he seemed more at ease at that table in that lightly populated diner. You two had settled on some sort of breakfast for dinner thing, picking at a skillet as you both exchanged little tidbits of stories about your lives. No work, no past relationships.

You knew he could have easily broken into that, and you knew you would have to address the lingering anxieties about how your last one had ended. Yet, it had just been the first date, so you let those topics lay.

Arthur managed to surprise you with his humor and the odd story about the people he used to live with, something you wished you could have matched, but you had to argue that you hadn’t lived the most interesting life. Still, things were nice, and you knew you were at least pretty interested in seeing where this would end up.

Though, with the end of the break and classes picking back up, it left room for those drops of doubt to sink in.

With the semester picking back up at the university, it was easy just to let things lay where they were. Arthur was pretty good about leaving his home life out of the office hour you two shared, at least when it came to you. There was the odd lingering touch when you would pass by each other, or a look you’d share, but nothing that would seem unprofessional should anybody walk into the room.

Going out together had been getting a little more complicated, juggling the approaching end of the semester. Projects needed to be marked, lectures that needed to be wrapped up. Still, you managed to share lunches, sneak in a second date, a third. All the while, the unexplored thoughts and doubts seemed to get heavier the more you saw of him.

It wasn’t fair, the way you were starting to compare.

You hadn’t thought about your ex in years, that whole situation put in the past with time but you hadn’t really addressed the pain that lingered. You knew Arthur couldn’t possibly be beyond the effects of his divorce only a couple months out from it, and with those two things lingering, it made the whole situation a lot more complicated in your head.

It made your stomach twist in guilt over the idea of Arthur being a cheater, yet there was always that worry in the back of your mind. If his ex-wife started to miss him, if she changed her mind, you couldn’t help but worry that this whole thing was him just trying to fill a hole until he realized he didn’t need you anymore.

Christ, you hated thinking like that, but it was hard not to.

Yet, all of that seemed to just bubble just below the surface when you both had managed to find a day and time to have dinner at his home.

It was a first for you, the both of you tending to keep to rather public spaces and restaurants. It had your gut twisting somewhat with everything had been piling up, along with stress from work. Still, you tried to push that down for the moment as you approached the home, Arthur greeting you at the door after a couple knocks before letting you inside.

He had a decent house, much as you tried not to judge too much on that. The space did seem a little bare, but you could see bits of clutter and pieces of his own taste. Considering what had happened with him recently, you couldn’t really expect much more than that anyway. The thought had you somewhat tense, feeling those thoughts starting to push forward somewhat. You really should just let him into your head a bit at this point, tell him what’s going on and your concerns.

Still, it was hard to bring up, making you further distract yourself as you looked around his home somewhat while making some small talk.

However, you paused as you came across a small book open on the desk near the hall. You had been ready to dismiss it as some assignment he was looking at before you noticed it stuck in a whole book. It looked to be some sort of park landscape filling one page and spilling out onto the next.

Yet, you didn’t get to examine it all that closely when you heard a small chuckle from behind you.

“Ah, Christ, I forgot I left that out,” Arthur muttered, stepping by you to scoop it up from the table as he flipped it closed, “Don’t usually let people see my drawin’s, at least not unless I’m usin’ them as some piss poor example.”

“You use your own art as examples but call them ‘piss poor’?” you asked, turning to glance back toward him as Arthur shrugged lightly.

“Eh...usually just show the odd one to prove I’m not talkin’ out my ass,” he returned, tucking the sketchbook into a drawer.

“Well, sorry for looking,” you said, “It’s good, though.”

“Well...thanks,” he muttered, sounding much more like he was just saying so to move on from the moment instead of taking the genuine compliment. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, I left it out.”

“If it means anything, seeing that makes me believe you had more of a right to being rough on me when I was in your class,” you continued around a soft chuckle, earning another in return when he turned back around.

“...I gotta be honest, I don’t remember what you submitted to me.”

“Well, gee, thanks!” you returned around a small laugh, raising your voice in (somewhat) mock offence.

“No, no, c’mon, you can’t tell me you remember every essay you’ve ever graded,” he returned, at least picking up on the lighthearted tone behind your response as you let out a soft exhale.

“...Not unless there is something particularly special about it, I guess,” you relented, “I’ll have to see if I can find my final project again, might see if I can get a more recent opinion.”

“Well, I’d just be bias now.”

“You weren’t back then?”

“I don’t know where you got the impression that I hated you,” he said, the touch of a grin on his face but you could see a touch of genuine curiosity in his gaze as you let out a small huff.

“...Maybe I was looking into things a little too personally,” you returned, glancing down as you placed a hand against the dinner table, “Though, you did kick me in the teeth a couple times.”

“Back then, you probably weren’t the only one,” he said with a small shrug.

“You have mellowed out over the years,” you returned, causing him to glance up at you.

Really, it was hard to miss the warm feeling that settled in you, despite the teasing, something that had become all the more common the more you saw of him outside of work. You found a small grin touching your face, tilting your head somewhat.

“Though, you could make that up to me,” you continued, not too sure where the burst of courage came from, but it was on the mark enough that you saw the shift in his expression. Something softer, an expression that put a small flutter to your stomach, growing hunger aside.

Yet, as he seemed like he was about to say something, the moment was broken by a couple of quick knocks on the front door.

It wasn’t hard to miss the tightening of Arthur’s brow as he glanced toward it, confusion setting for a few moments before a look of realization crossed his expression. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line before letting out a whispered curse that wasn’t hard to miss from where you were standing.

“I, uh--I’m sorry, hang on.”

You lingered back as Arthur headed toward the door, letting out a small breath as you ran a hand through your hair and glanced around yourself somewhat awkwardly. You could see Arthur digging something out of a drawer near the front room, and you found yourself taking a couple of steps forward despite yourself as he removed what looked to be a folder--some papers.

Realization took a moment to dawn on you as he moved to open the front door, hearing a woman’s voice as Arthur greeted her and exchanged a few words. You let out a small sigh through your nose, almost wanting to laugh.

Of course this was happening right now.

“Well, now ain’t really the best time for--” you heard Arthur start to explain before he shifted back.

“--Oh, it will only take a moment, Arthur. Please.”

You stiffened as the woman at the door stepped into the house, glancing around herself a moment before stilling when her eyes landed on you. She was a pretty woman, dark hair piled up on her head, the folder Arthur previously had in her hands as she looked you over a moment before offering a small, somewhat stiff smile.

“...I didn’t know you had company,” she said, glancing back toward Arthur, the look lingering a moment. It caused you to let out a slow exhale, glancing down as you shifted somewhat on your feet.

“That’s why I was sayin’ this ain’t the best time,” Arthur returned, the tension in his voice and between the three of you really not all that hard to miss.

“I see,” she returned with a soft nod, glancing back toward you, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I guess I’ll come by tomorrow for all of that, then?”

She had glanced back toward Arthur near the end of that, causing him to nod and give her a quiet ‘sure’ before she glanced back toward you to give you another tight grin, almost apologetic before she turned to exit back out of the door. She and Arthur shared a quiet word before he closed the door behind her, Arthur not turning to face you for a few moments as he ran a hand across his mouth a moment.

“This is my fault,” he said, turning to glance back toward you, “Completely slipped my mind she was comin’ by today, wouldn’t have had you comin’ over so early if I had remembered.”

“It’s...it’s fine,” you returned, taking in a slow breath as he moved back toward you, gesturing toward the table.

“Dinner’ll still be a bit, but feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

You gave him a small nod. Really, the whole interaction had been short, but it was hard to not feel tense with how tense Arthur had become. Separating himself from you by heading into the kitchen, it had broken whatever warm bubble that you had been wrapped up in and it was a hard feeling to shake.

***

Dinner really would have been nice, had it not been reduced down to small talk and awkward silence. You had been ready to just set aside the earlier hiccup and have a nice night with him, but Arthur had locked himself up and you could only feel yourself distancing from him in light of it. Really, it had you just eating what you could and trying not to keep an eye on the clock, your stomach tightening as the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind started to circle.

You really think dating a recently divorced man is a good idea? His ex shows up and now he can’t even look at you.

You’re just setting yourself up for failure again. If he can’t handle a quick conversation with his ex and continue this, you really shouldn’t even be in it.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, his voice pulling you momentarily from the spiral that was happening in your head, “Christ. I didn’t want tonight goin’ like this.”

“It’s…It’s fine--or, I don’t know. Maybe we can…” Just leave. “I don’t know. Shit.”

Finally, that small anxious part of you managed to get its claws into your head, causing you to stand abruptly from the table. All you really knew was how to avoid, you could think clearly if you were just left alone. You caught the somewhat surprised look at crossed Arthur’s face at the action, raising from his chair as you found your things. You heard Arthur saying your name, trying to get your attention, but it was hard to focus.

Though, you paused as the weight of his hand on your shoulder stopped you from just bolting for the door.

“C’mon, it doesn’t have to be this, alright?” he said, causing you to shake off his hand somewhat. Much as you could turn to leave, you knew you had to say something, yet…

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you said, letting out a shaky breath.

“Do what?” he asked, his brows tightening in confusion as you waved your hand somewhat.

“This,” you said, looking over at him as you dropped your hand back down. You knew you should stop the words, but you could feel your thoughts starting to race and tumble out.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you continued with a bitter laugh, “Getting into relationships with people who eventually just...move on to greener pastures, should they even tell me. That or it’ll be through odd articles of clothing or unexplained hotel bills.”

“The hell’re you insinuatin’’?” Arthur snapped, pulling you into the moment to realize what you had just said. “You think I’m gonna cheat on you?”

“No. No, I…” you paused, that sinking feeling in your gut tightening as you could feel your heart start to hammer away in your chest. “This isn’t coming out right at all. I just...Christ, Arthur, you see your ex for a couple minutes and you can’t even look at me for the rest of the night.”

That got some silence from him, Arthur’s expression tightening with the anger from what you had said and a hurt that touched his gaze that told you more than you needed to know. You really didn’t want to hurt him, not like this, yet…

“I...I’m sorry to waste the dinner, but I’m going to go,” you said after a moment.

Arthur didn’t say anything outside of letting out a low sound from his throat, not stopping you as you turned back around and opened the door to make your way back out toward your car in the evening’s darkness.

You knew you would have to settle the tightness in your chest and shaking in your hands before you could make the drive back home.

***

Really, it had completely slipped your mind that you would have to deal with this throughout the week. It wasn’t just some bad weekend date, no you had to sit with him in a room for the same hour for a couple days.

A workplace romance, another great idea.

As expected, there was tension as soon as the beginning of the week rolled around. Short greetings with minimal eye contact, trying to work in silence with his presence lingering at your back like he was sitting back-to-back with you. Really, you had turned the whole event over and over in your head, kicking yourself for your reaction, still seeing that damn expression on his face. There was a part of you that wanted to apologize, at least for not explaining your worries better or running off like you did. However, you couldn’t quite seem to find the words and if Arthur was having the same struggle, he was being pretty quiet about it.

Still, with how things were at the university, it was easy to throw yourself into your work. Really, you could at least pride yourself on how well you managed to keep it together, you didn’t want a repeat of a couple years ago when personal issues pushed into your work life. Still, it was always there during that hour when you didn’t have questions to field and the nights with no messages or phone calls.

However, you knew this whole thing would have to be addressed eventually.

Much as there was a part of you that wanted to just bottle everything, file it under another reason as to why you shouldn’t get into another relationship. Yet, you knew you wanted this. There was a part of you that couldn’t deny the hopefulness you felt upon pushing beyond the friendliness of colleagues, even of friends, and yet...well, you were scared.

You just needed to talk to him, it was just waiting for a good opportunity or making it yourself.

Still, a week of the distance seemed to pass despite your resolve to sort that out. A couple times you had thought about cornering him during quieter moments, but you couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t walk in on however that would go. Plus, he had work to do as well, the both of you seeming to deal with the awkwardness in similar ways. However, eventually you managed to find your chance at the university’s car park one evening after you had lingered behind to work on some semester end papers.

You saw him making his way toward his truck as you did toward your own car, watching him for a moment with a small, anxious flutter in your chest before you paused.

“Arthur?”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, hand resting against the lip of his truck’s trunk as he turned to glance back toward you. The expression on his face was...impassive, you supposed. It was better than angry or irritated, much like you feared it might have been, or it would be quick to shift into.

“You need somethin’?” Well, perhaps he was a little more bitter than you had been thinking.

“Yeah…” you started, walking closer to him as you let out a small sigh, “We need to talk.”

“What about?”

“I think you know,” you stated, trying to keep some frustration from your tone. Perhaps not at him, but born out of the tightness in your chest.

Arthur watched you for a few moments before he glanced away to look around the rather empty car park, tapping his fingers against the metal of his truck.

“Was under the impression there wasn’t anythin’ to talk about,” he said, glancing back toward you with an indifferent expression, “You said you couldn’t do this, so I figured that was it.”

“...I know what I said,” you replied around a small sigh, crossing your arms as you glanced down toward your feet. “It was...childish how I handled that. I shouldn’t have ran off instead of saying what I really meant. I’m sorry I implied that you would be anything like my other partner, that wasn’t right.”

“...That whole dinner was a damn mess,” Arthur replied around a sigh, leaning back against the side of his truck. “Guess Mary showin’ up just...threw everythin’ back in my face. Everythin’ I was doin’.”

“What I…” you started, pausing a moment as you bit the side of your cheek a moment as you tried to find the right words, ignoring how what he was saying was speaking heavily into the doubt you had been carrying. “What I was trying to say was that...I guess I’m scared to be doing this whole thing again. Dating, letting someone in close again. There’s my whole trust issue with that, but...I guess I’m just worried I’m just something to fill a hole until everything with your divorce is settled.”

“I...I know I’m not handlin’ this whole thing very well, seems fast but...Christ, I was dreadin’ this semester but you made it worthwhile to come into work. Seein’ you outside it makes me happy, too.”

“See, that’s…” you started, leaning your shoulder against the back of his truck, “That’s what I’m worried about. Seeing you makes me happy, too, but...I can’t get invested again if this is going to end up where you’ve confused that for something romantic.”

There was a pause after your words, Arthur looking over your expression before he glanced down, crossing his arms as he leaned against the side of his own truck as well. Really, you knew you weren’t sure if you were just talking yourself out of something good, it felt like it at points, but you just had to get that out in the open. Get him to understand.

“...I thought Mary was the one,” Arthur stated, shaking his head lightly, “When we decided to get married, I thought that was it. I was set, but...well, somethin’ changed. If it was somethin’ in her or somethin’ in me, I don’t know, but...well, much as there’s a part of me that’s torn up about that, I know I’m not really lookin’ for somethin’...temporary. Fill a hole, as you said. If I didn’t want somethin’ beyond that, I wouldn’t have bent my own professionalism to date you if I didn’t think there was somethin’ there. So...no, no I’m not gonna use you. Not after all this and what you’ve been through.”

“I...fuck, I want to trust that.”

“Why not?” he asked, stepping closer to you as you looked into his face. Much as the question was tense, you could see the hopefulness in his gaze. After all he had say, you couldn’t blame him, but…

“I had someone for a while,” you said, shaking your head, “It was good. Really good. Almost too good, maybe. I don’t know what happened, maybe it was all a front or if I just...wasn’t good enough, but that relationship gutted me. We moved in together, there was talk of engagement, and then I discovered the sleeping around. The...odd pieces of clothing and unexplained motel bills, as I said. I was lied to over and over when I got confrontational enough, and then...I was just done. I moved out and after that I didn’t see anyone for a long while, not until you. So...knowing what was going on with Mary and how scared I am about this happening again…”

“...Christ,” he said once you had trailed off, causing you to glance up at him, “I’m sorry that happened. I guess...well, I remember you tellin’ me about bein’ cheated on, should have realized that’s goin’ on under everythin’.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied, “The thing is, I really do want to be with you. I do. That’s why I’m probably so scared about all of this. I...wish this damn conversation didn’t have to happen in a damn car park, but I guess that dinner was just the boiling point for everything. I should have just told you this instead of insinuating you would use me or cheat on me.”

“I’ve never been like that. One night stands when I was younger, sure, but that was mutual. If I’m not happy in a relationship, I wouldn’t do that. You deserve better than somethin’ like that.”

“...Thank you,” you replied, giving him a soft smile, “I...I need to know this is serious, that I’m not some rebound.”

“You’re not,” he stated, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I know the timin’s terrible, but I want to be with you too.”

“...Okay,” you said with a small nod, “Okay, I’m going to trust you.”

At that point you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his middle, placing your head against his shoulder as Arthur returned the embrace. You took in the feeling of him solid against you, holding tight as you let your mind settle. Really, you knew you could have left it at that, but...you knew you had been wanting to do it for a while, long before the whole dinner. You had been too doubtful, and perhaps just waiting for the moment.

Still, you said you would trust him.

So, you found yourself leaning back in the hug, Arthur’s hold loosening somewhat. However, instead of stepping away, you slipped your arms out from around him to lift your hands toward his face. You cupped his jaw for a moment, taking in his expression as he seemed to take in your own before you leaned into him, pressing your lips against his own as Arthur pressed back into the gesture himself. He shifted to press you against the side of his truck somewhat, your hands moving up to press into his hair as you pressed back more into the kiss.

There was some relief in there in finally letting yourself do this, but also starting to work on putting aside your doubt and worries that you had been shoving down. You could feel that warm feeling settling in your chest, dropping your hands down to trail against his neck before resting on his shoulders as you parted somewhat for air. Much as you knew you wanted to stay in the moment, his hands on you and your mouths against each other, you also knew you were in the underground car park of the university.

“I need to drive home,” you said around a somewhat breathy chuckle, Arthur letting out a small one of his own as he pulled back somewhat to give you more space.

“Yeah, yeah so do I.”

“Call me,” you said, giving him a quick smile, “Hopefully we can keep the issues to a minimum until I’ve got my finals sorted out.”

“Sure…” Arthur remarked around a chuckle, “Just...you’re gonna have to let me redo dinner some time once the semester’s out. No Mary, nothin’ like last time.”

You gave him another smile along with a nod, letting out a small breath as the tension was leaving after a week of it. “I’d like that.”

#my writing.#arthur morgan x reader

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tsuki-sennin · 3 years

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Mina-san, bonne lecture~! (Tsuki recaps his feelings about Kamen Rider Saber, a personal essay.)

So, Saber... what a wild ride it's been, huh? Just a quick heads up, this is very long and rambling, and also contains spoilers for everything in Saber. It's fine if you don't wanna read all this, but I just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

TL:DR, Kamen Rider Saber's an undercooked hot mess I absolutely adore, warts and all.

Speaking as objectively as possible, it's a 6/10. Probably closer to a 5 than a 7... it's not great: All the different plot elements are cluttered and weirdly paced; character focus is disjointed and clearly biased toward certain characters, leaving great ones like Kento and Ogami, interesting ones like Kamijo and Hayato, and underdeveloped ones like Sophia and especially the Shindais in the dust; not to mention its balance of comedy and drama is off, and while both are very effective, there's a lot of mood whiplash that can take you out of the story. I also feel like a lot of the easily avoidable character conflict could've been easily resolved, even in universe, by simple conversations. Be careful Fukuda, I think Inoue might sue you if he finds out you've been biting his style and doing it worse.

Rider shows have a very frustrating tendency to drop cool form ideas and not do anything with them, and I don't think it's ever been more the case than with Saber. There's a similar argument to be made with the majority of Heisei Phase 2 after Gaim, but wow. The suits are expensive to make without just straight up recycling everything, I get that, but man, I really wanted to see more Wonder Rider forms. How come Touma got all the fun, eh? Of note are the Blades King of Arthur forms (which look amazing by the way), Espada's Jaaku Dragon forms (one of which I even drew last night), even the non-elemental random Wonder Ride Books all have awesome design elements that go tragically unused. Even if the other Swordsmen just kinda have the ones they do get to use slapped onto them, that's at least something. Touma also just straight up only uses Diago Speedy twice and never again. You have cool props guys, don't waste them like that!

Speaking of waste, Espada, goddamn. Since most of the Wonder Ride Books are Story Type and he needs one very specific Story Book to transform, he doesn't get much of... anything, really! No Wonder Rider forms like Blades, Lamp Do Cerberus being exclusive to Ganbarizing, only getting to use the Ride Gatriker like once, he even spends the second and third arcs as a completely different Rider, then once he comes back he doesn't get a King of Arthur-granted upgrade or even a Necrom Espada form. ...at least, not yet anyway. I'm holding out hope for Espada x Necrom and the eventual Saber V-Cinemas. Extra Rider stans, we will be well respected someday.

The Unreal Engine CGI used for fights in early Chapters was pretty good but wow it feels disconnected and they really drop it quick. I feel like if the animators had more freedom to use as many forms as they want, we'd have gotten a lot more mileage out of the books beyond... decoration basically. I actually really liked the CGI sequences, they felt creative and were fun to follow along with.

The soundtrack is pretty great on its own and conveys what it needs to, but they seriously overplay the orchestral themes. It honestly feels kind of... stock at times. I think my favorite parts of the score are when it winds down, since it feels a lot more natural and lets the cinematographers and actors speak for themselves.

As awesome as I think Falchion's design and the Mumeiken Kyomu are, The Phoenix Swordsman and the Book of Ruin comes up short as its own standalone thing. You'd think 30 or so minutes of non-stop action would be awesome, and it almost is? It's as good as a typical episode of the series with a higher action budget, but it kinda drags on a bit too long; and although I think Emotional Dragon looks cool, it feels a bit tacked on. Coming off of the incredible Zero-One REAL×TIME, it doesn't give you much room to breathe, which Rider films are typically great at handling. I also thought the resolution for the kid's subplot was kinda forced. He does an okay job at acting considering his age and doesn't overstay his welcome, but I really don't see how 20 minutes of violence and action is enough to convince him to be brave enough to go play with the other kids. 5/10, it's closer to a 4 than a 6 and I think that maybe Zero-One should've stood on its own if they really had to push back Kiramager Bee-Bop Dream because of the pandemic.

Alright, with all that said... As imperfect and undercooked Saber was, like Ghost I can consider it a personal favorite, 10/10. Call it a guilty pleasure if you want, but holy hell it's just the show I needed. Takuro Fukuda has a talent for creating fun, wonderful characters and utterly fascinating worldbuilding and concepts. It's a shame he doesn't utilize them fully, but hey!

The action and fight choreography are pretty top notch as usual. Lots of beautiful shot composition and set pieces, and plenty of great angles to help keep up with the extra busy action. I love watching the suit actors perform and they deserve all the respect in the world for their hard work in those hot, sweaty, and heavy costumes. Their visual design is also top notch, with lots of unique and fascinating forms and cool weapons I desperately want to play with despite being broke, all with spectacular finishers and hype jingles with the voice of Akio motherfucking Ohtsuka calling them out. A real feast for the eyes. Not a single bad suit among them, yeah I said it, fight me.

The crossover specials are soooo good too.

-I went over my feelings on the Zenkaiger crossover episodes in a separate post (good luck finding that btw), but to sum it up, they were great character moments for Zox and the Shindai siblings with lots of great screwball comedy and some good old fashioned meta humor.

-The Ghost crossovers are great little side stories all about how Daitenku Temple somehow had the Ghost Ijunroku Wonder Ride Book? I genuinely have no idea why it was there, or how Makoto had the Specter Gekikou Senki, and as far as I remember neither of their origins are explained. Did Luna or Tassel hand them off to them and told them to wait for a sword guy? And why do these generic French Revolution Gamma villains working for Danton get their asses handed to them so easily by Kanon, who literally just became a Rider? I thought that Makoto deciding to adopt all the Kanon clones into his family was both hilarious and adorable though; considering all the crap they went through, I think it was a good ending to this plot. Gimme Espada x Necrom already Toei/Bandai/Fukuda/whoever I need to yell at, give Kento things to do, I beg you.

-I haven't actually seen Super Hero Senki since it's not available for subbing yet, but apparently there's a Journey to the West plot starring the Taros and Ohma Zi-O and I want to see that so badly.

Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra? Yoohei Kawakami? A match made in heaven, that's what they are. All of their themes are absolute bangers. All of them. Almighty, Kamen Rider Saber, Sparks, Taju Rokou, all excellent and empowering pieces. Rewrite the Story, Will Save Us, and The Story Never Ends are all amazing inserts done by the cast, and it makes me wish we had even more of them to help break up the monotony of the score.

The characters are what easily make this show such a great watch though. For the most part, they have great personalities and chemistry, consistently fun and interesting scenes, well acted and... sometimes well-written development, and deeply investing personal stakes.

Narrating it all is the delightfully eccentric Tassel/Viktor, portrayed by Romanesque Ishitobi "TOBI" of the Paris-based Les Romanesques. I was utterly confused by his presence at first, wondering why there needed to be a narrator when the story would've been perfectly fine without it. He even got a special spot in the opening despite having no stake in the plot despite seeming to live in Wonderworld, who the hell is this guy? But then I thought "OH MY GOD, HE'S THE MAIN VILLAIN USING TOUMA AS THE HERO IN HIS OWN TWISTED STORY, THE BASTARD". I thought it'd be some subversion of expectations, true form, "That Was His Mistake!" shit. Trust me, it made a lot more sense in my head. I'm very happy that they didn't do that, as I grew to love having male Yuuka Kazami as my narrator, and when he was shown to be actually important by being friends with Yuri my mind was blown. And doubly so when I realized just how deeply necessary to the plot he really is.

Rintaro/Blades is up there as one of my all time favorite secondary Riders, since his curiosity is always consistently funny and adorable, his forms are all gorgeous and impressively designed, his relationships with Mei and Touma are absolutely sweet and compelling to see unfold, and his arcs about becoming willing to call out those he views as family and coming to terms with his feelings of inadequacy and both moving past and using them to strengthen himself are always great lessons to pass on to kids. ...even if they took like 10 goddamn episodes to be conveyed in what could've been 5, but hey, Takaya Yamaguchi does a stand-up job all throughout. Rider veteran Eitoku's refined, almost logical movements with the Suiseiken Nagare absolutely beautiful to see in action, and his final form having the same white and blue color scheme as Zooous's base form is an amazing touch I don't see appreciated enough.

Mei Sudo's also absolutely wonderful, serving as the perfect emotional core of the story, responsible for most of the funniest lines, sweetest character moments, and some of the most deceptively compelling drama. Asuka Kawazu brings the perfect energy for such a dynamic and well rounded character, and absolutely nails her scenes of quiet turmoil. As much as I would've loved her to become a Rider, I don't think she really needed to. She's already done so much to help, and as cool as it would've been to see her pick up a sword and fight alongside them as Espada, Calibur, or Falchion she's already endeared herself to me as one of my favorite supporting characters in the whole franchise.

I can't get enough of my homeboy Kento Fukamiya/Espada. Like Rintaro and everyone else for that matter, he also suffers from Saber's pacing issues; and like his predecessor Valkyrie from Zero-One, he doesn't get a proper upgrade aside from his Wonder Combo, instead becoming an anti-villain using a completely different powerset and shifting the Raimeiken Ikazuchi out of focus for the Ankokuken Kurayami, and I feel there's a serious missed opportunity to see him use Jaaku Dragon with Alangina. However, Ryo Aoki's performance is probably among the most easily praiseworthy in the whole cast, managing to convey both Kento's kind and knightly stoicism as Espada and his emotionally unstable despair as Calibur perfectly, in conjunction with Yuji Nakata's experienced and expressive stuntwork.

Ren Akamichi/Kenzan's a dark horse favorite for sure. I remember back when Saber was first picking up, people hated this breezy mad lad for being such a simple character at first. Overly concerned with strength? Black and white world view? Annoyingly energetic? Agh, real-feeling character flaws, I hate them, get him away from me! But then y'all came crawling back. Eiji Togashi's apparently a bit of a rookie actor, and it really shows with some stilted delivery and the way he sometimes bobs his head when giving his lines, but man he improves dramatically as the series goes on. His inexperience ironically ends up really selling his character development, and his unexpectedly beautiful relationship with Desast is special evidence of that. The Fuusouken Hayate's three modes and Satoshi Fujita putting them to excellent use through his stellar acrobatic movements are also really cool.

Why did Luna have to be a child for so long? Does Wonderworld not age whoever inherits its power? Well since Luna randomly becomes an adult in Super Hero Senki and some of the final episodes, I guess so? Miku Okamoto does a fine job for a kid actor, but she's basically done all the heavy lifting for the whole series and doesn't give Mayuu Yokota enough time to get a feel for her character as an adult. How did she choose Touma to inherit the power anyway? Does she just subconsciously decide to trust him with it upon seeing how kind and passionate about storytelling he is? Well if that's the case, why didn't Kento get at least some of that power too? He's just as important to the merchan- I mean Luna-chan, isn't he? Why did Tassel pick her over someone who isn't a literal child who'd be understandably terrified about basically becoming an embodiment of storytelling?

Sophia also kinda suffers from the same problems. Rina Chinen's voice is very pleasant to listen to, but she doesn't really do much beyond serving as a source of exposition and support. I think her dynamic with Mei's adorable, and given her kindness I can certainly understand the respect Northern Base has for her, but she doesn't really contribute a whole lot. If she could use the Kurayami and become Calibur all this time, then why didn't she take it from Kento and Yuri and do so earlier when Kento decided to go back to being Espada? I know she's not much of a fighter and as the closet thing the Sword of Logos has to a leader after Isaac's death I'd understand not wanting to put her at risk, but considering Storious is destroying the world, and she's very evidently kicking a lot of ass in the first part of the final battle even in the basic Jaaku Dragon form, I think it would've helped a lot, just sayin'. Tassel at least has the excuse of being unable to interact with the real world, but Sophia obviously didn't just be put in charge of Northern Base just because she's a pawn in Isaac's plans right?

Ryou Ogami/Buster is also a victim of the disjointed character focus. I have no problem believing he's an excellent father and fighter thanks to Yuki Ikushima and Jiro Okamoto, respectively, but he feels a bit flat and simple in comparison. His rivalry with Desast is randomly dropped, his wife doesn't even show up until the final episodes, he's kinda sidelined in terms of action a whole lot. I imagine that must've sucked for the Rider Dads out there. He does get to star in his own manga, and that was pretty good, so I guess I can't be too mad.

Tetsuo Daishinji/Slash fares better though. Hiroaki Oka, being a Kamen Rider fanboy himself, manages to make him among the most relatable characters in the series. Not only are his hyperfixation on swordsmithing and anxiety played surprisingly believably, Hirotsugu Mori letting him cut loose is extremely cathartic and hilarious, and you really feel for him when the Onjuuken Suzune becomes the first victim of Calibur!Kento's sword sealing.

Yuri/Saikou's another dark horse favorite, for me at least. "Oh great, Avalon guy's got even more merchandise to sell, I wonder what his Sword of Light is- it's himself. Well... that's different." I admit, I didn't like him at first. He felt like he was there to fill out character dynamics in the absence of both Rintaro and Kento, I thought his gimmick was too silly even if his design and jingles were bangers, I didn't particularly care for his power set. But then XSwordman came around I totally got it. He's an endearing, hard-working man trying his best to catch up on all the cool shit he missed, unafraid of experimentation, ready to throw down at a moment's notice, serving as a wonderful bit of consistent support for our heroes, a truly knightly individual, an absolute Chad. and goddamn does he make me worry. Tomohiro Ichikawa, I salute you good sir.

Even if they fall short compared to the rest of the cast, the Shindai siblings are at least cool enough to not wanna write out entirely. They kinda devolve into comic relief after they become allies, something that villainous Riders from Chase onwards are very prone to doing, and it's especially awkward in their case because I think that they kinda get off scot-free for obeying the obviously sinister and crazy Isaac for so long, as well as driving a wedge between a lot of people and threatening children in Reika's case. I think their sibling dynamic is nice though, even if Fukuda recycled it from Makoto and Kanon and has some... questionable possessive undertones as a result. It's cool how they're basically foils to Touma and Rintaro though. The dispassionate and methodical Reika/Sabela is beautifully played by Angela Mei and her moments of emotional depth are fascinating to watch. Her Rider form is a thing of beauty, and its use of literal the Eneiken Noroshi's smokescreens and Yuki Miyazawa's precise and deadly stinging strikes are a joy to watch. And while Ken Shonozaki's not given the best direction as the undercooked plate of 7-Eleven fried fish that is Ryoga/Durendal, he manages to sell him as an experienced and hardened warrior with an awkward side that's especially evident in the Zenkaiger specials. His goddamn RWBY weapon that is the Jikokuken Kaiji is absolutely sick, I'm a sucker for transforming weapons and its combination of time and water powers is really cool, especially with Yasuhiko Amai's deliberate and forceful acting in the suit.

Daichi Kamijo/the Second Calibur, for as brief as his story was, was a pretty cool starter villain. Hiroyuki Hirayama brings this poor bastard to life in a genuinely touching way. I love how as Calibur he goes full force on his creative use of Wonder Ride Books for attacks, and his debut as Jaou Dragon got my blood pumping. His end is also deeply tragic, and I really felt for him when he realized just how badly he fucked up. Hayato Fukamiya also does wonders for the backstory, and while he also doesn't get much to work with, Mitsuru Karahashi makes his regrets and love for Kento feel genuine.

Legeiel and Zooous are both very intimidating and entertaining villains. On top of being just the right balance of goofy and threatening, Kairu Takano and Koji Saikawa's stage presences are both very strong, and their mixture of camaraderie and in-fighting is extremely believable. Zooous's rivalry with Rintaro feels incredible to see through to the end, and although Legeiel doesn't get quite the same treatment, Elemental Dragon had such a cool debut that it more than makes up for it. Their final fights are also absolute spectacles. I don't think their sympathetic angle works even close to as well as it does with MetsubouJinrai or even the Gamma, but I get it, power corrupts, and you probably feel a lot of sadness and regret for things you've done when you die unless you're a right bastard.

Isaac/Master Logos/Solomon is kinda generic. As wonderful as Keisuke Soma is, he doesn't get much dimension to work with. The result of that is while he nails being as smug and punchable as possible, he feels almost... comically generic. Genta Umemori from Shinkenger was full of personality! He was also basically some guy, but he was fun, he felt connected to the rest of the cast! Meanwhile the only real time we get to see Isaac's depth is when we see him crying over his failures. I almost appreciate him being unapologetically evil though, since I've seen way too many shows where redeemed villains get off scot free for way worse things, and some where they outright demand you to sympathize with them despite them doing nothing to warrant it.

Bahato/Falchion surprises me by not just being a movie villain whose actions affect the main plot, but also being a movie villain who actually gets to appear in series as a recurring threat! ...and it's not a particularly great showing on his part, sadly. Masashi Taniguchi does a wonderful job with what he's given, but his character feels like a retread of Eternal without any of what made Katsumi Daido a compelling and frightening villain. I'd like to believe Yuri when he says that he used to be a good person and a hero to the people, but I can only hear so many anime villain monologues about the pointlessness of life and the beauty of destruction before I can never take them seriously again. ...I think that's his biggest problem, actually. I thought he was an overall uninteresting and generic villain in the movie, and the cartoon nihilist he's shown to be in series is only a small step up. He still feels like filler. If only there were a far better written and much cooler villain who takes on the Mumeiken Kyomu after his de--

Desast is probably one of the finest anti-villains I've ever seen in recent years. On top of an absolutely badass character design and the excellent combination of Kazuya Okada/Danki Sakae's suit work and Koki Uchiyama's stellar voice acting, his story being so thoroughly intertwined with Ren's makes their shared journey and bromance a borderline Shakespearean tragedy. His struggle for identity despite Storious treating him as nothing more than a failed experiment and the Sword of Logos treating him as a mere monster really gripped me, and the way he uses what little time he has left to encourage Ren into blossoming on his own is absolutely beautiful. I think his enmity with Ogami is criminally underexplored in series, considering he killed several of the previous Riders and how Ogami's in desperate need of screentime.

Then there's our main villain, Kamen Rider Storious. Robin Furuya brings an incredible amount of charisma to this character, expertly portrayed as both a sinister, manipulative bastard , and as a lonely, tragic figure that arguably makes him feel even more villainous. Speaking as a struggling writer myself, it's easy to feel stuck in the idea of "fuck it, who cares, maybe everything is predestined", but I can't imagine what it's like to know that as the truth and carry it with you for all that time. All of your grand ideas have roots from your experiences, and you're not the only one who even could have those experiences. It's easy to just fall into despair and give up trying, but would that make you happy? Sure, Storious is sadistic, he may be fulfilling his goals, he may be ungodly powerful... but it's not enough for him, is it? All of his friends are gone, one of them even at his own hand, he probably doesn't have any idea what to do after he destroys all the world's stories, Touma even reached his full power before he did, and his downfall is so predictable that even a blind person could see it. He even seems to welcome it, what's up with that? But then I realized... OH MY GOD, HE'S THE MAIN VILLAIN USING TOUMA AS THE HERO IN HIS OWN TWISTED STORY, THE BASTARD. He's so far gone, he's so desperate to stick it to the Almighty Book, he's willing to twist the archetype of the Hero's Journey so hard, it snaps in two. What I think is interesting is that he's ironically trying to chase the trend of "edgy superhero story" that became super popular in the 21st century. The Boys, Brightburn, Kamen Rider Amazons, The Sentry, No More Heroes, Magical Girl Site, even mainstream comics from DC and Marvel... Surely Storious must've seen the cruelty and tragedy these stories are filled with, but he chooses to go through with trying to force the world into this direction anyway. Did they, along with seeing the ever-popular tragedies of legendary playwrights and bleak satire of the twentieth century fuel his despair?

And yet... there's one who stands in determination against his ideals.

Our hero, Touma Kamiyama, the titular Kamen Rider portrayed by Syuichiro Naito and Kousuke Asai, he speaks to me on a personal level. There're plenty of jokes to be made about his procrastination in early chapters, his godless fashion sense, and him doing the funny run up the slope, that's all fine and dandy, but I rarely feel so connected to a character the way I did Touma. The struggle to create, find companionship, live your life, reach out to others... these're things a lot of people struggle with, and of course you see them depicted a lot in media about creators, but Saber gets to the root of what the greatest thing about storytelling really is. Giving people hope, while using the pain of the past as fuel for the future. Sure, Storious may be right about how every story has been done as far back as human civilization gets, he may even be right about how any spin or creativity humanity has is outright predestined. It should be pointless to even try, right? That's where Touma Kamiyama disagrees. He didn't spend all that time fighting and creating just to give up at the idea of predestination. His novel writing-fueled creativity in his early training, his devotion to his friends that let him surpass Kamijo as Dragonic Knight, his compassion for the Primitive Dragon that let him combine their powers to destroy Legeiel as Elemental Dragon, his resolve that let Xross Saber dethrone Solomon, and his passion for the craft of storytelling that let our heroes channel their wishes into Wonder Almighty... all stemming from the belief imparted onto him by his predecessor that "Hope lies beyond your resolution." And that you decide how your story ends. He may not be the greatest Rider to some, he may be as lame as others think he is, he may not even be my favorite, but I have no issue calling Touma Kamiyama... Kamen Rider Saber, one of the all time greatest carriers of the Kamen Rider name.

The final chapter's definitely not as great as some other Rider finales, but goddamn. Primitive Dragon consciously choosing to save Touma is so sweet and such a great emotional payoff, I loved jamming out to the opening theme while our boys lay the smackdown on Storious. Wonder Almighty's a fitting final bit to close the main series out with, if not exactly a great one. I think the cover is great, and the book's body is a lovely shade of candy apple red, but I really don't like how its pages are just the covers of the other books copy-pasted onto onto the pages, that feels lazy. Maybe if it were a panorama of all the books' characters, I'd like it a lot more as a symbol of how unified the Swordsmen are, but eh, what can you do? On a related note, does this mean all the "last episode extra final forms" of the Reiwa Era are gonna be named after their series's opening? That's a neat idea.

I felt a lot of feelings seeing all those video messages of Rider fans all across Japan talking about their favorite stories, and how their passion and fond memories help reshape the world. Mei's monologue at the ceremony about is also really touching and- IS THAT A HUMAGEAR!? :O

Y-yeah dude, it is! Wow, where have you guys been for the past 48 episodes?! Are you guys doing okay? How come you're like... the only one here? Is the technology of Hiden Intelligence only really that prevalent in that very specific metropolitan part of Japan and they're just not coming around much over here? Is it like Dragon Ball where anthropomorphic animals are just vibin' with humans while the heroes are off kicking ass? Apparently he's played by Hasegawa Keiichi, who wrote this episode and had the award ceremony named after him. ...is Hasegawa Keiichi a HumaGear in this universe then? Did he set up this award ceremony in Touma's honor? If so, why is it named after him? Did reading one of Touma's books lead to his Singularity? I know this is just a cameo, but... god, I have so many questions that probably will never be satisfactorily answered.

Overall, if I had to compare Saber to anything, it'd probably be Sam Reimi's Spider-Man trilogy. It's awkward, stupid, overwrought, undercooked, illogically written, scattershot, cheesy as fuck, and has a tendency to squander its otherwise fine execution; but the sheer passion for storytelling, sense of spectacle, deeply fascinating characters, and belief in the ideals set forth by the cast, crew, and fans are absolutely admirable. Improvements would certainly make it an overall better experience, to be sure, but there's something deeply captivating about how wonky this series is. Seeing everybody get their happy ending after all they've been through felt extremely gratifying though, and I may have to wait another for the epilogue to and then wait for Revice, but... man. I'm hella proud of our awkwardly-emoting, fashion disaster novelist and all of his heavily flawed friends for carrying the Kamen Rider name on to the future. Here's hoping Revice will keep it going.

Alright, that's everything I wanted to talk about. Sorry this was so long and ramble-y, I had a lot to say. I'll probably be liveblogging Revice as episodes of that come out, so... look forward to that, I guess. See ya.

#kamen rider saber #long post #tsuki talks #personal #kamen rider #whew #ok bye have a nice day

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