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yihrae · 2 years

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The Machine

There’s a putrid stench in this room. It’s the smell of well-greased machines, each component grinding against another, to produce some desired outcome. Even the noise produced contributes to the smell. The room wasn’t sightly either. It was a large for one, with many small stations set up at the its edges and a large, spiralling generator in the centre of it all, much resembling a large oak tree that had lost its leaves in the winter, and had been attacked by by some virulent disease, such that its trunk was uneven and thin at parts. The room would take at least two minutes to walk from one end to the other, and the floor tiles were a bleached, brownish colour, with spots where the paint had faded, leaving behind the exposed silver steel.

Most people take a long time to adjust to this room. One can never quite fully accept the constant clanking, the raw odour, or the disagreeable look of it all. I had gotten used to its demeanour given that I had started working here since I was nine or ten. My father was the person who had brought me into this job, with the intention that I was to takeover his role as time passed. He was concerned with the maintenance of the cogwheels on all 60 floors of the generator. My father, before I came along, had alternated his attention from the 1st to 30th floor on one day, and the 30th to 60th on the next. As a child once I understood my task and started work, I’d do the first 30 floors so he could focus on the latter 30. After he passed two years ago from the inevitable lung cancer due to the quality of air here, I started to take after all 60 floors and now I alternate as he did. Today I am looking after floor 1 to 30.

I can usually tick off floors 1 to 29 just fine. Only minor altercations, such as oil sprays or rust removal are needed. Floor 30 is problematic. Floor 30 is the least simple of them all. In there lies an intricate network of cogwheels, spread through the room much as spiders might occupy spaces with complex webs, or as large bundles or string might get tangled together in knots, making it difficult to decipher the exact interaction between each string and how it is knotted to the next. Each cogwheel has varying gear ratios depending on which component they are interlinked to, and they range from sizes as minute as the nail of a finger to sizes as large as three or four humans touching head to toe. They are all connected to a central wheel, perpetually turning and generating energy. At times, I draw similarities between this room and to the people I work with in the factory. Different cogwheels have different sizes and functions, but ultimately they all contribute in some way or form to keep The Machine churning.

I check on the central cogwheel. It was clear that due to the constant high pressure and temperature this cogwheel endured it was bound to fold at some point, but observing the decay day by day lately made me realise that the rate of deterioration was far too fast for the simple maintenance to keep up. It will have to be replaced.

I go to Shin to report my observations. Shin manufactures cogwheels. His works are quite like pieces of art, given they are extraordinarily precise and are often crafted with detail and care beyond what I can imagine. He and I started work at around the same time, and I spent a fair bit of my days with him, given his work directly correlates to mine. For months we’ve discussed the issue of the central cogwheel. He told me, even for him, it wasn’t very straightforward to replace. The material originally used to create this cogwheel had surged so high in price in recent years it was not feasible to purchase it. But to find another material was a chemical disaster. The diameter of the wheel was large, so we’d need a material that can be obtained in large quantities for a reasonable cost. Further, the material would need to quite resistant to temperate conditions, given where it is located. The material also needs to be easy to precisely melded, given the central cogwheel can’t afford rough edges or it wouldn’t turn very smoothly.

“What’s bothering you?” Shin asked me this as we toured outside the factory. We usually walk during lunch or after work, just to breathe the air of the town and to relax our muscles. The town the factory resides in is derelict, with the residential population being low and a majority of the space being used for industrial purposes. There is only a small market and a graveyard. The townspeople say this is to eliminate the hassle of transporting people who die here to other towns to be buried.

Shin had mentioned to me a few times that I had never quite been the same after my father had passed. He was quite right. I had become quieter, detached and careless in my work at times. The passing of my mother at my birth hadn’t bothered me much, given I hadn’t gotten to know her at all, but my father had became the person I had turned to whenever anything was needed, even if it was mostly about components within The Machine. He had, in his disappearance, taken with him some core function of my own being and hadn’t returned it since. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be days where I couldn’t quite get myself to perform maintenance. Shin would take over then, but he and I both knew it wasn’t sustainable to have too many of these type of days.

“I’m thinking about my father. I haven’t spoken to him in a while.” Shin nodded at my response, and we continued on in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly, he paused, and proposed “How about we visit your father’s grave?” I hadn’t visited it before. His burial had occurred as courtesy of the other maintenance workers that knew him, but I couldn’t bring myself to attend then. I shuddered at the idea of seeing the stone under which my father had been buried, at the notion that only silence would greet me, and at the premise that I may regress into some form of denial. “Perhaps another day.” I say.

Days pass. No particular form of life had been brought into the town, and it had remained quite still as before. The cogwheels turn the same as ever, spare the worsening condition of the central one. A few days after my talk with Shin, I had passed by a rare grass field on my walk outside the factory. I saw what looked to be a father and his seven, perhaps eight year-old son passing a white and black spotted ball around. They would kick it to each other, allowing the ball to roll back and fourth between them. I stood for a while to observe but could find no particular objective of the game, besides the passing back and forth. Despite this, the child looked delighted to continue to kick the ball forward, at times missing the ball and stumbling on his now unbalanced other leg. I left after some staring.

I am on the 60th floor today. The high height of the 60th floor gives most people vertigo when looking down. Not that there were frequent visitors to the generator at all, spare maintenance workers or engineers. Almost like clockwork, once a month, someone would drop some piece of equipment from the 60th floor. The platform up above was a form of a netted-mesh, so small pieces could fall through the gaps in this mesh. Upon falling, a loud sound, mimicking a bat striking a steel bar, would reverberate throughout the room, although most heads wouldn’t turn to inspect the source, given they had become quite accustomed to objects falling from high heights and shattering upon landing. Even well-manufactured cogwheels would become deformed upon falling from such a height, permanently relieved of their function and disposed of upon landing. At times, I stare down from the this floor for prolonged periods, and always find myself feeling sick afterwards.

On our walk today Shin suggests a visit to the graveyard again. I oblige this time. The route to the cemetery is populated with more nature than the rest of the town. The road to it is covered in vines and fallen leaves and branches from the trees encasing it. It is also surprisingly quiet, given it is a bit further from the industrial area. Shin walks behind me, given the road is quite narrow. We reach after some walking. It is clear upon reaching that no one looks after the graves here. Most are covered in moss or vines, and have insects running over them. High blades of grass cover the text on some of the gravestones, waving gently in the wind. The cemetery isn’t very large so it only takes a minute to spot my father’s grave. It is less decrepit than the others, but run-down nonetheless. His name had already begun to fade as the engraving in the stone began to be covered in moss. I wince at the sight of it, and hurry along. “My father used to wash the graves here. I’d sit at the bench there and observe him as he did so. After he died this place has decayed.into a sorry state.” Shin gestured to a small stone bench nearby as he spoke. Then, he began to walk towards what looked like a small shed at the opposite end of the graveyard.

It wasn’t clear what colour the shed had originally been, given almost all its paint had been scraped off by time, and it now stood as sheets of rusted aluminium held loosely together by equally rusted screws. Inside the shed was a turquoise plastic bucket, a few sponges, scrapping tools , a few gardening tools and a hose. Shin filled the bucket with water, grabbed a sponge, and began walking towards his father’s grave. As he cleaned, he explained that he made it a point to maintain his father’s tomb at least once a year. It gave him some time to talk to his father and update him on the happenings in his life. Shin also told me there was also a garden next to this cemetery that had become so overgrown that it was unrecognisable.His father had quite loved that garden, and had walked in it quite frequently, especially during evenings when the town had been at its quietest.

We left shortly afterwards. For the few preceding days, I couldn’t help but think about my father’s grave and how it looked. There was an almost overwhelming desire to correct it. I couldn’t rationalise this feeling, even to myself, but felt it either way. I asked to visit the graveyard again soon after my first visit. Shin seemed slightly taken aback by my request, given his knowledge of my sentiments towards my father’s grave, but nodded and brought me there again

Upon reaching I asked him to teach me how to clean a gravestone. We grabbed the tools and began work. He explained firstly to wet the tombstone. After which, he demonstrated how to gently move the brush so as to scrub without damaging it. The nature of our work was demanding and we hadn’t begun scrubbing much before we realised we had to return. Over the next two weeks, Shin taught me basic gardening skills to maintain the area around the headstone, explained the functions and applications of the scrapping tools and taught me to look out for cracking in the stone. I began to go there more alone, sometimes speaking silently to my father as I scrubbed, telling him about what problems I had encountered today and how I had solved them. At times I’d recall when my father had washed my back when I was younger or had told me about the issues he’d encounter during maintenance, as well as explained to me the steps he’d take to solve them.

I’d see other visitors at the cemetery on some days. They had seen me too, and it was only a few weeks in when someone had explained that they had been impressed by my ability to clean the grave, and asked if I could clean a tombstone for them. I must have looked like the cemetery maintainer. I agreed to do it, given I had no particular reason to refuse, and had found spending time in the graveyard to be oddly calming.

It began to be a daily routine to head to the graveyard and do some form of maintenance or cleaning. The air was clearer than the factory’s, so I began to look forward to my time there. I had also begun work on the garden based off of what little gardening knowledge I already possessed. On my way there, I’d spot the father and son playing the ball-passing game on some days, and I’d usually stop for a while, but would quickly move on due to the amount of work that I wanted to do at the cemetery. Shin would accompany me at times, but had begun to spend more time in the factory, telling me he thinks he has made some progress towards creating the cogwheel.

I also began to speak to my father out loud. The first few times I had done this had felt strange, given I had never quite inculcated the habit of speaking to something that didn’t respond. But gradually it came more and more naturally and I’d start to sit there for periods of time, asking if he remembered when I had done a certain thing, or when a certain event had happened, or I’d ask him what he would do if he encountered a certain form of rusting, or if a certain gear wasn’t working like how it should.

My bad days seem to lessen. The requests for grave cleaning have also increased, allowing me to continue work even after having finished cleaning my father’s grave. Spending time in the cemetery, maintaining the garden or cleaning the graves had a rather incredible effect on me. I wasn’t sure when or how, but before I noticed, I had stopped staring down the 60th floor during maintenance.

A year passes. I’ve stopped looking at the father and son passing the ball on my way to the graveyard. I sometimes think back to how fortunate it was that I had decided to visit my father’s grave on that day. The conversations I had and continue to have have helped me to cope with and process my father’s death. I now clean the cemetery regularly and have quit my job at the factory to avoid the same fate as my father. Two weeks before I had quit, Shin had told me that he had finally been able to construct the cogwheel needed for the generator. He had sourced the perfect material, and had ingeniously planned how he’d design and construct it. Upon hearing this and I congratulated him, but told him that I’ve already found the right cogwheel for myself, and that The Machine was running again.

Every so often I’ll draw parallels between myself and the generator within this story. My inner workings were quite like the network of cogwheels, where the fatal loss of the main wheel had caused the caused the partial ceasing of my operation. But the people in my life had helped me through that, and I too, like the protagonist, had found a cogwheel that was just the right material and the right size, to help me function again. I often think to myself how lucky I am to find such a cogwheel and how much good it’s done for me :)

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ulfwolf · 2 years

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Priorities -- Musing 272

The arts— rearranging deck chairs when we should be learning how to fly

for song and art and story and sex make for sumptuous prison walls

Denise Levertov once said, “What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.” To me, that is such a wonderful thought, and possibly, possibly true. On some level: the soul sees beauty as truth.

But not all the way true; in fact, nowhere near the absolute and nowhere near-mystical / historical truth. For the sugar-deprived prisoner, even the smallest piece of candy is a welcome (perhaps even prayed-for) explosion of sensual pleasure.

Art and its often undeniable (candy-like) beauty, seen from certain standpoints, mine sometimes included, is in fact an elaborate prettying up of our cell walls.

I once mused that the perfect prison would be one that you did not want to leave. Earth, in many respects, I believe, is that prison.

Many great men, and I’m thinking of the Buddha, of Lao Tze, of Jesus of Nazareth, of Shankara, and of a handful of others, have seen our world for what it is: a spirit prison; and then devoted their lives to opening eyes to this fact. An often thankless task.

They nailed Jesus to a cross; Lao Tze, at the end of his tether, fled the city for the distant unknown, others—with the patience of the saints they were—stuck with the task, un-killed, until a ripe age (the Buddha reportedly died at eighty). Many of the Christian mystics—Eckhart comes to mind, also lived long lives; Eckhard was nearly seventy when he died.

Adi Sankara, however, is believed to have died aged thirty-two, at Kedarnath in the northern Indian state of Uttarakhand, a Hindu pilgrimage site in the Himalayas. Texts say that he was last seen by his disciples behind the Kedarnath temple, heading up into the Himalayas until he was no longer seen. No one ever managed to trace him. Taking, I’m assuming, the route of Lao Tze (but not before he had left a wide and deep legacy still alive and breathing today).

While the true saints are few and far between, the artists, by comparison, have proliferated through the centuries and still do—casting their beautiful spells (on cell walls) to distract us.

This planet must have struck several icebergs, still, it struggles on, barely afloat and, yes, leaning heavily to port while the stern now sits far lower than the bow, slowly sinking. Meanwhile, humanity—and our many artists along with it—rearrange the sliding deckchairs and are very, very serious about this.

We should be learning how to fly. Flight is a possibility though denied or disbelieved by the many. Too much work, too stressful. Much easier to just kick back, break open another beer and pack of popcorn and watch the screen, perhaps we’re not sinking after all, as long as the pictures keep coming—they wouldn’t come, would they, were we really sinking?

Good luck with that deluded optimism.

And our popular music. Every four days or so when I drive to the store (to gather food) and back I sometimes turn on the local radio station to again be moved by how one song sounds just like the next: the heavy beat, the simple melody—sometimes spoken more than sung, the incipit lyrics that in a good ninety-odd percent of the time have to do with procreation, seriously.

Not too long ago, or perhaps it was long ago, the mantra ran: “Sex, drugs, and Rock’n’roll”, capturing all the meaning in life, at least during the adolescent, coagulating days of lives. And one reads of the sexual excesses of some of these pop heroes that seem to keep the biography genre alive and happily flourishing. Not that I’ve read any of these sensational accounts of debauchery, but from a review or two one can gather that touring, some musicians went from stage to sex to stage to sex and quite often more sex at the back of the stage, between the drug-top-ups.

Whatever it takes, we must learn how to fly.

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

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septembercfawkes · 3 years

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Debunking 6 Myths about Steadfast, Flat-arc Characters

Steadfast/flat-arc characters are characters who don't drastically change their worldviews over the course of the story. In contrast, a change character will do largely a 180 flip in worldview from the beginning of the story to the end of the story.

For example, in the fable of the Little Red Hen, the Little Red Hen never changes her worldview about hard work. But in A Christmas Carol, Scrooge completely changes his worldview from the beginning of the story to the end of the story.

In the writing community, there are a lot of misconceptions of the steadfast/flat-arc character (at least from my experience), which I'm going to talk about, debunk, and clarify today in this article. This information will still be useful to writers who have no interest in writing a steadfast protagonist--because nearly every successful story features a key character who is steadfast.

irst, though, we need to visit our familiar pit stop on writing terminology. The most common term for this character is the "flat-arc" character. But it is not the only term. This character has also been called the "steadfast" character, which is what Dramatica Theory calls it. While "flat-arc" is more common, I prefer "steadfast" for a few reasons:

- It conveys that the character must struggle to hold onto something (after all, one is only "steadfast" when there is opposition)

- "Flat-arc" sorta sounds like there isn't really any growth or movement, which isn't exactly accurate.

- For much of my experience in the writing world, protagonists who don't have much of an arc have been frowned upon or treated as "lesser." The term "flat-arc" reminds me of that.

This is completely preference. You may use whichever term you want. Today, I'll be switching between the two.

Now, you can have positive and negative steadfast characters. A positive one will hold onto a true worldview throughout the story, while a negative one will hold onto an inaccurate worldview. For the sake of this article, I will be focusing on the positive one, which is more common, and may do a future article that focuses more on the negative version.

Now, let's talk about some of the misunderstandings and myths about the positive steadfast character.

My (Helpful) Personal History with Steadfast, Flat-arc Characters

Despite wanting to work in the writing industry since I was seven, I entered the writing world like anyone else: naive.

I had an idea for a story I wanted to write, with a protagonist that drew inspiration from some of my all-time favorite protagonists.

What I didn't know, and what no one could explain to me, was that all these protagonists were steadfast/flat-arc characters. And that's what I wanted to write.

I took writing classes, went to conferences, read books, and tried to soak up any piece of advice anyone could give me. But for some reason, some of the information didn't seem to work into my story or apply to the favorite stories I was drawing inspiration from.

This led to a lot of questioning and challenging of "writing rules" on my part (though that was mostly internal). I was told over and over again (if not in these words) that I needed to have a change arc protagonist. It was implied, over and over again, that protagonists who didn't have change arcs were static, simple, lacking depth and dimension, and were just boring. Of course, there was always the occasional acknowledgment that 007 or Indiana Jones were successful. But I didn't want to write 007 or Indiana Jones. I still wanted to go deep into character.

Well, over the years, I unwittingly switched my protagonist from a steadfast protagonist to a change protagonist. I've only fully realized this recently when reviewing some of those favorite protagonists from years ago.

Not to be dramatic, but I feel a little cheated and let down by the writing world because of that. Even recently I went looking for resources on steadfast/flat-arc protagonists, and frankly, found very little. And of what I did find, 95% pulled from the same source material. I mean, it's great, but we are obviously lacking with this.

I tell this story, not for therapeutic reasons (okay, let's be honest, some of it is totally therapeutic!), but because I know there is someone out there who is struggling like I was. Someone who can't get their story to work because they are trying to apply change-arc advice to a flat-arc protagonist. This doesn't work. But you can't see that, because the people you are learning from (who have sincere intentions), don't fully understand or acknowledge steadfast protagonists.

For example, a writing book that has been making waves (that I looove and definitely recommend) is Story Genius by Lisa Cron. This book is amazing! And so helpful!

If you are writing a positive change protagonist.

It will not help you nail down your steadfast protagonist. Because its principles are founded on the protagonist changing.

So if you are trying to apply it to the wrong type of protagonist, you are going to get frustrated. . . . or switch your protagonist's type.

Unfortunately, I myself have been guilty of perpetuating some inaccurate advice, but only because (like most people), I didn't know better. This also tends to happen because by far the most common protagonist type is the positive change protagonist. There are lots of resources on it. There are lots of people writing it.

But this doesn't mean that the steadfast protagonist is wrong. It actually doesn't even mean that he is boring, static, or one-dimensional, nor that he doesn't grow, struggle, doubt, or change at all. He just doesn't do a direct flip in worldview. Instead, he proves his worldview true (the thematic statement).

Let's debunk some myths I've heard in the decade or so of being in the writing world.

Myth #1: Flat-arc Characters Don't Grow

The most common myth you are likely to run into, is that steadfast characters don't grow. This is inaccurate. The steadfast character doesn't drastically change her worldview. The positive steadfast protagonist has a worldview that will be proven true by the end of the story, which creates the theme. (In contrast, a negative steadfast protagonist has a worldview that will be proven untrue.)

This doesn't mean the character doesn't grow in some way.

For example, you may have a flat-arc character who becomes more competent. Maybe he learns to become a great marksman. Or maybe she learns how to navigate law school (Legally Blonde). A steadfast protagonist can gain any kind of skill, even some that are less obvious, such as learning the art of manipulation. In Moana, Moana must learn how to sail.

You may have a steadfast character who learns to become more proactive/assertive. It's not exactly unusual for a flat-arc character to not want to get involved in the main conflict in the beginning. He may be a reluctant hero. He may need to learn to not stand by but to stand up for what he believes in, by confronting the antagonist directly. In Disney's live-action Cinderella, Ella must become more assertive to fully thwart her wicked stepmother.

A steadfast character may grow in experience and wisdom. In Wonder Woman, Diana must experience and understand the real world in order to fully wield her truth against the antagonist.

A steadfast character can grow in pretty much any way that doesn't totally flip his or her worldview.

Certainly, there are flat-arc characters who don't grow at all, like 007, and that is fine, and you can write successful characters like that. But that doesn't mean that none of them grow whatsoever.

Myth #2: Steadfast Characters' Worldviews Remain Completely Static

Explained most simply, a positive steadfast character has an accurate worldview--understands the true thematic statement--from the beginning. This doesn't necessarily mean she has a perfect understanding of it.

The character's worldview may need some refining. It may not be whole or complete. Or, as mentioned, above, it may need more wisdom (discernment) behind it.

These things can only be realized with real-world experience--in other words, the tests and trials of the middle of the story.

While this concept may overlap with the prior, it's slightly different, as not every way a steadfast character grows will be linked to his or her worldview. They may be two completely separate things. But they can also go hand in hand.

For example, while Cinderella knows kindness will help her through trials (the thematic statement), her worldview needs some refining. She must realize one shouldn't let others take advantage of that kindness. She needs to stand up and be assertive with her stepmother.

In Arrival, Louise Banks knows that communication can help us understand another perspective, which enables us to avoid confrontation. However, through the story, she gains a greater, deeper, more complete understanding of that, as she learns the heptapods' language--which has the power to unit humanity and species across time.

In Wonder Woman, Diana knows from the beginning that we should fight for the world that we believe in. However, she gains more wisdom in that regard, after experiencing the gray moral complexities of humanity--does humankind deserve a better world? Only after she comes to terms with this, is she able to embrace the true thematic statement with eyes wide open.

Sure, some steadfast characters have completely static worldviews, but many of them don't.

This concept can become all the more complex when we consider secondary themes.

First, as a quick recap, the positive steadfast character has an accurate worldview--the "truth," as some like to call it--this is also the primary thematic statement. This is the truth the story is arguing. The positive steadfast character starts the story with this.

In contrast, a positive change character will start with an inaccurate worldview--the "lie," as some like to call it--this is basically the "anti-theme"--the opposing argument to the "truth." The positive change character will change to the "truth," the accurate worldview, the true thematic statement at the end.

However, many stories have more than one theme. Many stories have secondary themes.

Because of this, it's possible for the positive steadfast character to be steadfast in the primary theme, but be a change character in the secondary theme.

For example, Diana is steadfast in the primary theme, which is the argument that we should fight for the world we believe in (as opposed to the argument that we should allow humans to suffer the world they "deserve.")

However, in the secondary theme, she is a change character. The secondary theme is about whether humankind is innately black and white or whether they are innately gray. Diana begins the story believing they are innately black and white (innately good, if not for the antagonist), but learns the truth: humankind is innately gray. This is an arc of disillusionment. This feeds into the primary arc and primary theme.

I have an article on secondary themes in the works, but it's not complete yet. For now, know this:

Many stories have multiple themes. A steadfast protagonist may or may not be steadfast for every theme (or "worldview" if you prefer). But by definition, they must be steadfast for the primary theme (obviously).

Again, more on that in the future. However, this is why you may see writers argue over whether a particular character has a change or flat arc, and why the same character may get categorized differently--it depends entirely on what thematic thread the person is pulling. One may, in fact, argue Diana is a change character, because she arcs in disillusionment, while another may argue she has a flat arc, because she believes the primary thematic statement from beginning to end.

No worries if it sounds a little confusing. In short, a positive steadfast character's view may grow or shift in some way, but it never does a 180 flip in the primary arc and theme.

Myth #3: Flat-arc Characters Always Stand Firm

Just because the steadfast character has an accurate worldview and belief system (knows the "truth"), doesn't mean she never wavers or has doubts about it.

In most flat-arc protagonist stories, the character will have her beliefs tested through the conflicts of the middle. As the antagonistic force gets stronger, the character may experience doubts and powerful temptations (which may include conflicting wants). At some point, it may even seem that her worldview might be wrong. This, along with the cost of adhering to the truth, is almost always the meat of her internal journey. If you want your steadfast character to have a rich inner journey, this is where it's at.

For other steadfast protagonists, the internal journey isn't a major plotline (like 007). This means we won't see many (if any) moments of him having a worldview struggle.

Ultimately, at the end of the story, the steadfast protagonist will hold onto her accurate belief system. This is what makes her steadfast. But that doesn't necessarily mean she never second guesses it.

Myth #4: Steadfast Characters are Simple and One-dimensional

While a steadfast character is probably more likely to be simple, they aren't necessarily. Complexity isn't strictly tied to character arc.

What makes something complex is dichotomy. It's boundaries. It's layers of identity. I talk about this in my free booklet "Core Principles of Crafting Protagonists." But I'll review briefly.

Complex characters are most easily created when we smash together seeming contradictions.

- An outlaw who is law-abiding

- A soldier who refuses to hurt anyone

- A vampire who doesn’t like drinking blood

. . . for example.

Once you’ve smashed together contrasting features within the character, the gray area can be explored to find complexity. Why would an outlaw be law-abiding? How can someone be a vampire and not like blood? (These are more obvious examples, but they prove the point.)

Complexity can also be created by considering the character's personal boundaries--what it takes for him to consider doing something he wouldn't ordinarily do. We all have thresholds when it comes to our values. For example, I may have a character who proclaims that he never lies. But when the pressure gets high, I may show him lying to save the life of a loved one. This will reveal that he cares more about his loved one's life than about always being honest. In other words, he's not as simple as he first appeared.

While within the character arc, a steadfast protagonist will largely adhere to the accurate worldview, even when the pressure kicks up, this doesn't necessarily mean she can't find herself being pressured into unusual behaviors outside of it. For example, just because Job will stick to his faith in God regardless of what is inflicted upon him, doesn't mean he won't be pushed to complaining when the trials get intense. Difficulties reveal deeper character.

Finally, a character can be made complex by differentiating layers of identity. Identity gets down to how someone is defined, and no one is defined the same way from all angles. For example, who the character thinks he is, and who he actually is, will likely be different in some way. Who he believes he is and who society believes he is may be, in fact, opposite concepts.

While these elements can feed into character arcs--or rather, The Character Arc--they don't necessarily have to. There is no reason a steadfast character can't have some complexity.

Myth #5: Flat-arc Characters don't have Ghosts/Wounds

This isn't a myth I've heard very much, but I do feel like there are some misconceptions when it comes to the positive steadfast character and ghosts/wounds.

A "ghost" is a past, significant, often traumatic event that motivates the character to adopt an inaccurate worldview (the "anti-theme" or the "lie" or the "misbelief"--depending on your preferred terminology). In the industry, this is also sometimes called a "wound." You can learn all about ghosts/wounds in my article, "Giving Your Protagonist a Ghost."

But in a positive steadfast protagonist, this is often flipped just a bit. The ghost is often a past, significant, sometimes traumatic event that motivates the character to adopt the accurate worldview (the "theme" or the "truth" if you prefer).

For example, Cinderella's mother, while on her deathbed, tells Cinderella to always be kind. This motivates Cinderella to do just that.

Of course, not every character will have a ghost addressed in the story.

For the positive steadfast protagonist, the ghost may be largely resolved.

But not always. They may not have complete closure and peace. And it's possible they are still traumatized by the event.

Sometimes adhering to what is true can be nearly as haunting as having regrets. It's just that the haunting will come from either the cost of the truth, or, a lack of power--a lack of control--during the ghost. Generally speaking anyway.

In The X-Files, Fox Mulder, in the overall story and theme, is a positive steadfast character. The ongoing theme is an argument of belief vs. disbelief. (The motifs, "I want to believe" and "The truth is out there" speak to that.) However, Mulder has an unresolved, traumatizing ghost: his little sister was abducted by aliens.

This event cements him to the thematic truth of belief and motivates him to investigate anything unnatural. But this happened at the cost of his sister.

Sometimes the trauma comes from not being able to do anything, just as Mulder was powerless to stop the abduction.

Other times it may come from not being able to stop a loved one from choosing the inaccurate worldview--the "lie," "anti-theme," or "misbelief." The steadfast character may be haunted by the outcome of someone else choosing the lie.

So, just because you are writing a steadfast character, doesn't mean she can't have a traumatizing past.

Myth #6: Steadfast Characters are Boring

I have sometimes heard writing instructors discourage students from creating steadfast characters because they are "static and uninteresting." By now, you probably can see for yourself that this doesn't check out.

In reality, any kind of character becomes boring when poorly written. Sure, steadfast characters may need to be handled a little differently (they can easily become annoying when mishandled, for example), but this doesn't mean audiences aren't invested in them. A steadfast character can be just as exciting, meaningful, inspiring, and complex as most change characters.

I mean, I don't think most of us would call Diana, Fox Mulder, Moana, or Louise Banks boring.

In the future, I'll be breaking down this largely misunderstood character type some more. I mean . . . some of us have got to do more about the lack of resources out there, right? I don't want another person who wants to write a steadfast protagonist to be "tricked" into switching it to a change one. If you want to write a steadfast protagonist, this is me giving you permission.

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writeblr #nanowrimo #fanfic #flat arc #steadfast #wonder woman #arrival #moana #writing reference #writing advice #character

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surely-galena · 2 years

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omg the fic title ask meme looks so fun!! heres some my brain made, of different moods: "artem and crafts" "how many over-accomplished adults does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" "wait the time it takes to find a place called home" feel free to give any/all of these a pass if they dont vibe w u ofc! and i hope u have a great day :DDD

Hi Zak!! :D

And ooh, okay these are fun. Here's what I've got (and grab a drink, this one's a long one):

Artem and Crafts

This one is just gonna be a crack/comedy combination. It's Neil and Celestine co-hosting a mockumentary-type show (the show is called Artem and Crafts, which is a play on Arts and Crafts). What happens is they bring in a very clueless Artem and make him do crafts.

NEIL: Experiment #23. Paper snowflakes.

ARTEM: Wh -- you're still filming?

CELESTINE: While the last five paper-related crafts have not gone... smoothly, there is still hope for the subject.

ARTEM: For the last time, stop calling me that.

CELESTINE: Let's go in for a closer look.

ARTEM: You want me to cut paper snowflakes?

NEIL: It's quite simple. See this sheet of paper here? You just fold... and cut.

ARTEM: Fold and cut. [He folds a sheet of paper into a square and makes jagged cuts into it. He looks up.]

ARTEM: Are we going out for lunch after this?

[The camera zooms out to reveal various untouched items on a table behind him, not limited to but including: needles and wool felt, glitter, sand, nail polish, and banana leaves.]

CELESTINE: Uh... sure. [turning to the camera] We will be taking a short break after this to make sure the subject is fed.

The fic ends with a pile of crafts and one very successful origami boat. Artem is still relatively clueless, but Celestine and Neil close the fic by asking if he wants to see a movie after this.

CELESTINE: So... you wanna go out for a movie after this?

NEIL: Consider it payment for putting you through this today.

[ARTEM considers it.]

ARTEM: All right. But I get to pick.

CELESTINE: Sounds good to me. Just let me get the camera.

[CELESTINE walks up to the camera. She clicks a button, the camera shuts off, and the video ends.]

how many over-accomplished adults does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Okay, this is also going to be crack/comedy, although maybe less so than the previous one. It might not work if you think too much about it, but maybe that's part of the fun. It's just DAVIS deciding to screw with the NXX.

Essentially, the big square light in the NXX HQ burns out in the middle of a stressful meeting. Grateful for the break, everyone puts a pause on things while Vyn goes hunting for some linear light bulbs or whatever the square light uses. Meanwhile, Luke shuts off the power and unscrews the old lightbulb. Vyn comes back with the lights and a ladder, screws in the new lights, and flips the light switch.

It doesn't turn on.

Vyn flips it on and off several times, then gives up. "I think I may have another spare somewhere," he says, and goes trudging off again.

When he comes back, Luke takes the new light bulb from him, unscrews the old one, and tries to screw this one in. "No offense, Vyn, but maybe you did it wrong. Or something."

It doesn't work for Luke, so Artem gives it a shot and goes through with the whole unscrew/screw-back process. The light still doesn't turn on, so Marius takes the previous light bulb from before and tries that while Luke fiddles with the power box. Still nothing. Everyone is stumped.

"Did you try turning it on and off again?" DAVIS pipes up, very innocently.

"Vyn already did that," Marius says.

Since everyone has their hands full or is busy with something, MC gives it a shot and flips the light switch again. The lights turn on, Marius almost falls off the ladder, and everyone looks at the lights, stunned.

DAVIS congratulates them, then thanks them for answering a question he's been storing in his memory for a while.

"What question?" Luke goes.

"How many of you it takes to screw in a lightbulb, with me tampering," DAVIS answers, and vanishes cutely back into MC's phone.

wait the time it takes to find a place called home

This one is not gonna be crack/comedy, hehe.

So here's what I'm thinking: we're gonna have a countdown. It's going to start from 5 and go all the way to 0. Some parts work better conceptually than practically, but I think the general idea is there :D

(Also, with hindsight: what happened to summarizing??😆)

We're going to open with Vyn as he steps into Stellis for the first time. A breeze wafts through his hair as he takes off his glasses to wipe them clean. We weave through several scenes of his future from there, from moving into a new house, meeting Giann, and setting up the research center, all the way to the founding of the original NXX. The last scene is of Vyn in his armchair, in the house we are so familiar with. It is late evening, and classical music is playing in the background. He thinks he could be happy, or is at least beginning to be.

We then cut to Marius as he steps out from a plane. He's just returned from Florence, and while he's stressed, tired, and anxious, part of him is happy to be back. Like with Vyn, we move through multiple scenes, sort of like through a roll of film or slides on an old projector. We see Marius settling into his new role as Pax CEO, painting in his studio, wandering the empty halls of his mansion. We see Marius hunting for information for his brother late at night. We end with Marius in his studio, finishing the last stroke on a canvas. He rubs his Z tag between his finger and thumb, and looks out through the window at a vast, dark sky.

Then, Luke. We cut to him as he places a hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sun. He releases a soft sigh as he walks into a city he has not set foot in for the past eight years. Things are different now -- he can point out unfamiliar buildings and new shops where old ones have closed -- and he almost feels like a stranger to a place he had once called home. We follow Luke as he settles into his new place, works his job at the bar, and sets up his antique shop. In the last scene, we see him at his desk, reading over an envelope with a magnifying glass. A framed photo sits at the corner of his desk; it's of him and his childhood friend. Luke pauses to pull the photo frame away from the edge of the desk, but as he picks it up, he can't help but linger over the photo. Peanut chirps softly, like he's asking a question. Luke glances at him, then shakes his head and sets down the photo frame. He needs to focus on his work.

We're going to cut to Artem after Luke. We follow him as he enters the newly established Themis Law Firm. Celestine grins at him and offers a fist bump, and he smiles and touches his fist to hers. We move into a number of scenes again, cutting between more domestic scenes as Artem goes to the library, plays with children at the orphanage, and drives circles around town, and work-related scenes as he scrolls through his tablet in his office, stands in court to defend a client, and sits through both online and in-person meetings. In a more vulnerable scene, we see him pass a photo of his father and linger on it, for a moment, before walking away. Cuts between scenes begin to increase as the scenes themselves begin to repeat, creating a loop of mounting stress and endless repetition. We flash back and finally stop at Artem waving goodbye to Neil. He does not know it will be his last time.

The final person we focus on is MC herself. As Artem enters the law firm, the camera follows him until we see MC in the background. We stop, and as Artem walks away we begin to zoom in on MC. She's laughing at something Kiki has said. We pause, and then the clock turns back eight years. We see MC mostly alone in the following scenes. We watch her as she waits for a friend to visit on his birthday, but never does. We see her as she graduates high school, searching the audience for her parents or that childhood friend who left, but they are nowhere to be found. We see her as she smashes a glass door to pieces after accidentally trapping herself on her balcony. But we also see her performing a play with college students, making phone calls to unknown people, and shaking hands with Celestine Taylor. We fast forward again, and finally stop to find MC walking to work. A delivery person is waiting outside, and when she finds that the package he holds is for Artem, she takes it and enters the law firm.

We fade out from MC and wait in the darkness for a few moments. It's silent. Then we fade in onto a bright room with five seats around a glass table. Five people are standing in the room, four of them glaring daggers at each other. We are finally seeing Vyn, Marius, Luke, Artem, and MC all in the same place. Spinning around, Luke grabs MC's hand and pulls her out of the room.

We then switch to a series of smaller scenes: MC nodding as she reaffirms her decision to join the team, Vyn rolling his eyes at something Marius says, Artem raising a hand in greeting as he meets the four of them outside court. We see Vyn, Luke, Artem, and Marius react as a young boy presses a kiss to MC's cheek in thanks.

Then we cut to a ship, cruising across the ocean, and pan to an island beach, where Artem, Luke, Marius, and Vyn are gathering supplies. We linger there for a moment, then pan up to a cliff as all five team members walk to the edge of a cliff to watch the sun rise. MC smiles as she points out something on the horizon.

We keep going: following the five of them as they wander through abandoned manors, discuss plans in the safety of their headquarters, and drive to unknown locations. Finally, we stop back at headquarters, zooming into the walls to transition to: the lounge. Vyn is reading near a bookshelf as Artem makes himself a cup of coffee. As Marius naps on a sofa bed, Luke speaks softly to Peanut. MC sits under the stairs, a hot cup of tea and a folder of documents in her hand. She looks up to see the people around her and smiles to herself.

She's finally feeling at home.

And she thinks that the rest of them might be, too.

Thank you for the titles! Wishing you a great rest of your weekend as well!! <3

#zak #actualbird #asks #ask meme

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 𝑊𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐴𝑠𝑘 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑂𝑢𝑡: 𝑁𝑜𝑛! 𝐼𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝐴𝑈

❥𝐴𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑠 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑒: 𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔

As a college student, you usually end up having to do a lot of projects that require creativity and lots of paint.

That's how you ended up in an arts and crafts store.

You found Hongjoong behind the counter, finishing up his task of arranging the ribbons on the shelf.

He smiled at you and immediately put his task down.

"How may I help you this evening?"

Knows exactly what you'll need better than you.

Often recommends other materials or throws in a few creative suggestions of his own.

He's always asking you what they're for, he's genuinely curious about your assignments..and even more curious about you.

Sometimes you end up doing some of your posters with him right there on days where there's nobody else.

You purposefully began buying things you didn't even need just to have an excuse to see the blueberry haired male.

He doesn't mind, he likes your company, even if it's strange you keep buying the same red glitter everyday.

One day you came in, and he was excited to show you the new Valentine's Day cards that just arrived.

In particular, this really cute one that played a song you've never heard before but that asked in the end "Will you go out with me?"

You giggled. "It's so cute. Who thought of it?"

Hongjoong smiled even more, holding the card out to you. "I did......it's for you....so what do you say?"

❥𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡: 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎

You really love to gift flowers to your loved ones, feeling that it's a sweet way of saying you're thinking of them.

You frequented a lot of flower shops, but something about this particular one made you want to keep coming back...

And it wasn't just the hot employee behind the counter. Or his super sweet and flirty personality.

It was that and much much more.

You loved the cozy and intricate way the arrangements were always lined up.

They made it a point to change them every week, sort of giving the shop a fresh look each Sunday.

Seonghwa also knew specifically what type of flowers to suggest depending on what it was for.

White tulips for when you wanted to apologize to someone, Hydrangeas to show gratitude, and even Sunflowers to show love to your best friend.

It was always fascinating to hear him speak about what each flower represented.

Just as fascinating as watching him delicately put them together in beautiful bouquets and tie them with a ribbon.

One time you came in and he was very excited to show you a new bouquet he made.

"Ta da!" He pulled out a bouquet with lavender roses as the main focus.

"They're so beautiful Seonghwa! What do they mean?"

"They represented enchantment and love at first sight...ideal for a blossoming romance..."

He grinned as he held them out. "From me, to you."

❥𝑃𝑒𝑡 𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑟: 𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜

Getting a chow chow puppy as a pet was no easy task.

Especially when their hair is extremely fluffy and in constant need of maintenance.

Fortunately for you, a nearby pet grooming shop opened up recently.

So you walked, pooch in your arms as you looked at the cozy scene in front of you.

"Hello, I'm Yunho and I'll be assisting you today. And whom do we have here?"

Your puppy instantly took a liking to him, which was rare since he was a big scaredy cat for a dog.

"If my baby trusts him, I guess I have nothing to worry about. "

You really didn't. Yunho was so friendly and knew how to handle dogs perfectly fine.

He was just as playful as them and was very careful when trimming their hair or nails.

So you felt absolutely at ease leaving your child for a few hours with him while you ran some errands or went grocery shopping.

"Hi baby. Were you a good boy today?" You came to pick up your pooch one day.

"Oh they were an absolute gem as always."

You were about to leave when Yunho said. "Hey Y/N...I actually have a dog of my own at home....and they could use a friend.."

"Oh? So you want to arrange a play date for them?" You asked.

He blushed and smiled shyly as he admitted. "Date for them and maybe....us too?"

❥𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑝 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑒: 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔

Truthfully, Yeosang frightened you the first time you walked into the shop.

He just stared at you with a cold stare as he warned you to keep quiet in the place.

You definitely didn't want to get on his bad side.

So you just stuck to browsing the shelves, picking out the books you wanted and buying them.

Then after getting more brave, you took advantage of the tables and desks they had inside to either catch up on homework or read what you just purchased.

You just loved reading, especially poetry or sonnets.

You always got so lost in your book, you only realized what time it was because Yeosang tapped your shoulder.

"It's 5 minutes to closing. You should probably go home now."

It became a routine of coming to the shop right after school, curling up on the chair in a back, your nose stuck in a book.

Unbeknownst to you, Yeosang always watched you, took notice of the genres you were fond of. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find you cute and attractive.

You were just as mysterious and quiet as he was, and he was intrigued to get to know who you were.

One day, you came in as usual, waving to Yeosang who just sat by the register.

You sat in your usual spot and noticed a tiny folded letter on the corner. You opened it up and read its contents, a quote from one of your favorite novels:

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."- Pride and Prejudice.

You looked up to find Yeosang peering at you from his own book, for the first time, a smile on his sculpture like face as he waited for your reaction.

❥ 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛

Being the coffee addict you were, of course you had to try out the new shop that opened up.

The fresh scent of espresso filled your nostrils the moment you walked in and it was heavenly.

And the barista at the counter was pure eye candy.

And you soon found out he was sweeter than any cinnamon roll or cream Danish they sold there.

"May I interest you in any of our specialty drinks?"

But you were a simple person, you just wanted straight black coffee.

He seemed taken aback and somewhat disappointed at your choice.

But at least you weren't a picky customer that tried his patience.

So you just regularly came to get your straight espresso.

One day he asked "Can I please just try something?"

You couldn't say no to his little pout, so you let him.

You watched as he did your regular espresso shots and looked to be adding some type of cream.

He giddily went back to the counter and held it out to you.

There on the very top, he had created a heart out of latte foam...

And on the cup, he had written his phone number and added the words "call me ;) "

❥𝐷𝑎𝑦𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡: 𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑖

You had always been more than willing to help babysit your cousin during summer break.

You adored that child like none other.

But you had recently gotten a job and couldn't watch him all the time

So you opted for the nearby daycare center to help you when you had to work.

The first sight that greeted you was a tall young man who had tussled hair and paint staining his apron.

"Hello. I'm assistant Mingi. How can I help you today?" He greeted you both and then let out an 'ouch' when something hit him from the back.

Feeling safe with the environment, you began taking your cousin every other day to the center and picking him up after your shift ended.

You always saw Mingi there.

He usually helped your cousin with the homework assigned to him over break.

Or he was simply goofing around with him, it was quite endearing to see.

You were content to see the little boy make friends and break out of his little shell.

You came to pick him up as usual. "How was it today? Learned anything exciting?"

"I learned that Mingi thinks you're cute and has a crush on you." He snickered as he pointed to Mingi.

"Hey! Shhhh!! You promised not to say anything!" Mingi laughed nervously as he looked at you rather worrisome.

You blushed and smiled. "It's ok. They think you're cute too Mingi." Your cousin interjected, now exposing you and prompting you two to confess your feelings.

❥𝑃𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑟: 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔

Having the world's biggest sweet tooth was a blessing and a curse.

And right now the biggest issue was finding a new pastry that you had not tried before.

But you had practically gone through all the bakeries in town, knew what they had to offer.

So you decided to stop by a very old bakery that you had not gone to in forever.

And you weren't joking when you said forever, the place had changed so much, you hardly recognized it.

You also didn't recognize any of the people working there, having been a regular before.

You looked through the assorted pastries on displays, hoping to find something to catch your interest.

"Hello there pretty one."

You were startled by the loud voice behind you. You turned to see a cute guy smiling at you.

"Were you looking for something in particular?"

You explained that you were looking for something new or special and his eyes instantly lit up.

He ushered you to follow him to the counter, where he pulled out a tray of peach shaped pastries.

"These are Italian peach cookies, meant to look like actual peaches. Try one and tell me they're not the best thing you've ever tried."

You ate one and your whole mouth was engaged. They were absolutely amazing. "They're so good. I love how sweet they are."

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Wooyoung smirked. "If you like sweet things, how about going on a date with me?"

❥𝐴𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑡: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜

Jongho was no strange face to you and you were no stranger to him.

He often worked part time at the local arcade during summer break.

You and your friends hung out there a lot after you guys got done with your respective jobs.

"Hey." "Hi." You both always shyly greeted each other like that for 3 years now, sometimes starting small conversations.

Your friends often rolled their eyes at you, telling you to work up the courage to ask him out.

His friends, and coworkers, were also trying to do the same to him.

"They're totally into you." But Jongho would only blush and brush it off as pure fiction.

One night, he noticed how someone came up to you and tried to hit on you.

You looked visibly uncomfortable and seemed to be wanting a way out of the situation.

When they leaned in too close for your liking, and his, he marched right over there.

"Is there a problem here?" He made it a point to flex his arm muscles, making the person apologize and just scurry off.

"Are you ok?" He asked, wanting to make sure you were fine, which you said you were.

He was gonna go back to the counter, but he had to ask."Y/N...would you like to go out on a date sometime-"

"Yes!" You immediately answered, not letting him finish, suddenly feeling awkward for sounding so desperate.

But Jongho only smiled. "Don't worry, I would have done the same if you had asked me out."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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learnfromwebtoons · 2 years

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Lesson 8 - On Environments

Today’s Lesson: On Environments

Today’s Teacher: Not-so-Shoujo Love Story by Curryuku

I got two asks requesting posts on settings and backgrounds, so today’s post is about environments in comics!

Making a webtoon is hard. The company requires the equvialent of 8 full color print pages a week from most Originals creators, and to keep up with the deadlines, it’s inevitable that shortcuts are going to be used. A common shortcut when it comes to drawing the backdrops of a scene is using premade 3D assets to construct the background, or even buying fully rendered backgrounds from webtoon-building services. This is perfectly understandable, since in most comics, the focus is on the characters rather than where they are.

The issue is when these premade asset backgrounds don’t match the art that sits on top of them.

Not-so-Shoujo Love Story is a comedy comic about two girls experiencing their first love. It suffers from some pacing issues and some characterization inconsistencies, but is occasionally very funny and also one of three Originals about lesbians, so it gets some points for that. We’re talking about it now though because the backgrounds this comic uses are rendered with far more detail and in a completely different style of lineart and coloring than the characters.

When done deliberately, like with drawings of characters on top of photographs, this can work really well, but here it ends up taking the reader out of the story by being distractingly inconsistent.

Environments don’t have to be detailed. What they have to be is right for your comic.

I haven’t been reading the new romance webtoon LMLY because my patience for straight high school stories is severely limited, but I appreciate how the environments and characters are rendered in the same clean, simple, graphic style. It feels like the bench and the characters are existing in the same world.

Some of the other drawing shortcuts LMLY takes (like their approach to rendering dialogue) are a little weird, but they nail the exact level of detail needed to make their environments work.

When people think of comics with good environments, they tend to lean towards lush fantasy and science fiction because it’s easier to be impressed when you’re looking at something complicated that someone had to make up from scratch. (A Webtoon I’m not really keeping up with but which has gorgeous fantasy environments is Little Matcha Girl. This town looks so good.)

But I think effective contemporary environments are also really commendable, because it is so easy to just drop “cityscape asset pack 3″ into your comic and call it a day instead of putting in the effort to make the background look like part of your comic.

Environments are super hard to draw (speaking from experience here!) But spending a little extra time on making sure your locations match your characters and are specific to your story can go a long way.

Exercise: Artists, it’s time to draw! Writers, pretend you’re writing a script someone will draw for you. Draw your character’s bedroom. Think about the kind of bed they sleep in (sleeping bag? four-poster canopy bed? the same bed they’ve had since they were 5?) and how and why their room is decorated the way it is (did their mom do it for them? is this your character’s first-ever independent apartment? are they an interior designer by day?) Include at least 5 personal effects (clothes, bags, a rug, a poster, a stuffed animal, things like that.)

Webtoon Rec of the Day: I haven’t read most of Little Matcha Girl so I’m not sure if I can recommend it on a story level, but as visual inspiration for environment design you could do a lot worse. A comic I have been reading and enjoying, though, is Maya’s World, which takes place in the Indonesian city of Bandung. The environments are perfectly suited to the characters in them.

#drawing backgrounds #drawing environments #webtoons #learn from webtoons #webcomics #webtoon recommendations #just realized I scheduled this to post on american thanksgiving whoops

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joaquinwhorres · 3 years

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Blank Out - Ch. 2 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[ Masterlist ]

SUMMARY ››››› Bucky Barnes has a list of names–amends he needs to make. When he gets to yours, he finds the amends process a bit more…difficult than it should be.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,550-ish

WARNINGS ››››› language

A/N ››››› I’ve decided that this story calls for alternating perspectives. Also, lemme know what you think about how this explores post-End Game life.

"You know Bucky Barnes?!"

Rocio was upon you before you had even fully entered the dining room. Despite the fact that it was probably cutting off her circulation, the eight year old was still proudly wearing her "Soldier Arm". You were surprised she could even put it on anymore, a thought that brought on the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia. When the two of you had constructed the costume four years ago, you had needed to roll the ends of the glove up and then safety pin it to the top of Rocio's sleeve to keep it from sliding off. Now it didn't even reach her shoulder anymore.

"I never mentioned that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Rocio exclaimed

"Oh," you shrugged, rounding the table and passing by a wiggling Ravi in his booster seat.

Rocio fell into step behind you letting out an indignant and frustrated sound. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

She had an amazing and irritating talent for both shouting and whining at the same time. You breathed out your annoyance through her nose.

"Rocio," you said, flatly. "Do you really think I know Bucky Barnes and kept it a secret from you?"

The little girl pouted for a second as she thought it over before slowly shaking her head. "You're not very good at keeping secrets."

"Hey," you pointed a finger at her. "I never told anyone about your crush on Spider-Man did I?"

"I was six!"

"And yet, old enough to propose," you grinned, remembering finding the letter Rocio had addressed to Spider-Man with haphazardly spaced and sized letters. It had taken a few attempts to decipher some of the spelling, but it had proven excellent material to tease Rocio about for the past two years.

Your niece scowled at you and marched back to the table, dramatically throwing herself back into her chair.

You turned back to the stove and the probably cold eggs, smiling to yourself in victory. It was a brief moment of peace as you dished eggs onto three plates because the moment you popped the first one in the microwave, the interrogation started back up.

"Well, if you don't know him, why was he here?"

"He wanted to talk to me and your mom," you said, watching the eggs spin round and round.

"About what?"

"The weather."

"Y/N!" Rocio hit her hand against the table, causing Ravi to jump in his seat and stare at his sister with wide eyes.

You whirled on your niece. "Rocio Ishani, you know better."

"Sorry," Rocio mumbled, casting her eyes down to the table--one of her tells of genuine embarrassment and regret. The microwave beeped, and you sighed, switching the plate out for another one.

"I don't know what he wants to have a conversation about. He was here for three minutes and you did most of the talking. And even if I did know," you added on, stopping Rocio before words could come out of the little girl's open mouth. "I don't think it's a child friendly conversation. Which means when he comes, you're going to your room."

"He's coming back?"

You nodded. "When your mom comes to pick you up," you said, stopping the eggs with six seconds left on the clock. You took the two plates to the table, setting the hot one down in front of your seat and the warm one in front of Rocio. You raised your eyebrows at your niece, gesturing with your head to the kitchen before turning back to get Ravi's plate. Rocio trailed you in, pulling out the silverware drawer to get forks for the three of you and tearing off three paper towels as napkins. She still hadn't quite grasped that Ravi wouldn't be using a napkin however much he needed one. Instead, she ripped one half sheet into a quarter, as if that would convince him to use it in the same way that the small bright green fork convinced him to be somewhat civilized in his eating instead of using his hands.

It was a few more minutes before you were all at the table, ready to eat.

"Your arm, please," you said, gesturing to Rocio's glove. The little girl put up no fight, shimmying out of it and lightly laying it on the empty chair next to her, signature side up so she could admire it all of breakfast.

While the interrogation seemed to be over, talk of the Avengers was not. Most of the breakfast conversation revolved around ranking the Avengers from most powerful to least powerful, and most helpful to least helpful, and the ever ambiguous "best" to "worst." And then, as it did with young kids, talk bounced from subject to subject--connected only by the vaguest semblance of eight year old logic. It ended with a request to watch Wild Kratts after breakfast.

You did.

You did a lot of other things after breakfast too.

You made and played with play dough and stopped when you noticed Ravi was alternating between building with his and eating it.

You each drew pictures for Lilly with varying degrees of realism, had a fashion show turned impromptu dance party, and played hide and seek during Ravi's nap. (Rocio was such a good hider that you hadn't found her until after Ravi woke up, and you were definitely looking very hard and not reading a book.)

You painted each other's nails, and built an epic race car track for Ravi and made individual pizzas.

You raked leaves outside and picked a few favorites to press in books and even found time to fit in a small hurt self/strong self activity before Lilly arrived.

You were in the middle of deconstructing eating your creations when the front door opened.

"Where is my family?"

You looked up with a smile and gestured towards the door, but Rocio remained put. "We're in here!" she shouted, fingers sticky with peanut butter and fluff.

Lilly sauntered into the room, her emerald green suit still pressed and wrinkleless despite a day on the job. She arched her perfectly threaded eyebrows as she looked at you and daughter and the table all covered in graham cracker crumbs. "Looks like you three had a good day."

"Yep!" Rocio chirped, and Lilly clicked forward and into the corner of the room where Ravi was playing with his two cars on a section of the track.

"How is it my two year old is the least messy of the three of you?" she asked, bending over to press a kiss to Ravi's head. He squirmed away, continuing to move his cars along the track.

You laughed as Rocio licked a finger clean of peanut butter. "Because Ravi takes after you, and Rocio takes after me," you said, grinning at Rocio. Lilly frowned and crossed back over to the girls. "Don't worry though, I think we're all adventured out, so tomorrow we're just going to sit and stare at the walls."

"No!" Rocio shouted, and Lilly hushed her.

You tilted your head as if thinking. "I guess we could wash my car," you said, tapping your chin with a finger. "And the baseboards do need some dusting."

Rocio let out a dramatic groan, and you laughed, picking up a napkin to rub away at the spot of marshmallow fluff on her chin.

"Well, if you're not going to clean my house, you can at least clean your hands."

Rocio gave you a look of exasperation that she should have been much too young to even think about giving. Nevertheless, she slid out of her chair and headed to the sink, Lilly stopping her en route so she could press a kiss to the top of her daughter's head.

"How was work?" you asked as Lilly sunk into Rocio's vacated chair.

"People are idiots," Lilly rolled her eyes, giving a sigh.

"Says the literal genius," you returned, and Lilly snorted, shaking her head.

"It doesn't take a genius to follow simple instructions. I'll lay everything out for them, and even with pictures, they can't complete a single build without running into some potentially catastrophic error."

"That's not what you want to hear from the lead engineer at Stark Energy."

Rocio skipped back to the table, and Lilly scooched out her chair, gesturing for Rocio to come sit on her lap. The little girl veered off early though, instead attempting to climb into your lap. You shook her head, casting a quick glance at your sister who dropped her open arms.

"Your mom's missed you," you said, gesturing with her head across the table.

"I live with her," Rocio whined.

"And?" Lilly asked, moving her chair back up to the table. "I still miss you when I work."

"Really?" Rocio asked, walking over to the chair next to Lilly, and claiming it.

"Really," Lilly assured, placing an arm on the back of Rocio's chair, gently combing through her daughter's hair with her fingers. She looked up at you offering a small, weak smile before looking back down at her daughter. Her brow creased. "What are you sitting on?" she asked, tugging at something underneath Rocio. The little girl joined her mom in looking down, her eyes lighting up as she recognized the object.

"My Soldier Arm! Oh yeah! Guess who we met today!"

"Who?" Lilly asked.

"No, guess!"

You would have to teach your niece about the art of not playing a guessing game after making the answer so obvious. Then again, it still seemed so surreal that Bucky Barnes would turn up at your doorstep, that even with the "Soldier Arm", you doubted that Lilly would guess.

Lilly pursed her lips, putting on a show of thought. "Was it--"

There was a knock at the front door interrupting Lilly's guess. Rocio practically launched herself from the chair, already halfway out of the room by the time she could scream "I'll get it!"

"No!" Ravi shouted. His usual reaction when Rocio was too loud, too energetic, too Rocio.

Lilly exhaled a laugh at her son before turning back to you. "This was too much sugar," she said, circling a finger around Rocio's half-eaten creation. You laughed and Lilly smiled, and it felt nice for things to be normal between you--easy. Even if it was just for a moment.

A moment that was brought to a screeching halt by Rocio dragging Bucky Barnes into the combined kitchen and dining room by the hand.

"We met Bucky Barnes!" she chirped.

Lilly's face went slack, only managing to get out a small "Holy shit." Your eyes didn't linger long on your sister though. Instead your gaze was drawn to Bucky Barnes who looked vaguely amused at Rocio.

"Rocio, release your captive," you prompted, and reluctantly, Rocio released his hand, taking a few steps back towards her mother to give him some space.

"Is this--are you--what is happening here?" Lilly asked, looking between Bucky and you and Rocio, as if one of you had a reasonable explanation for this.You had only ever seen your sister this flustered twice before. Both of the previous occasions had been heartbreaking and traumatic, and you'd never quite gotten to experience how funny flustered Lilly was.

"He wants to talk to you and Y/N about something!" Rocio filled in.

Lilly's head whipped to you. "You know him?" she whispered, as if this was some secret conversation for your ears only.

You shook her head. "No, he just came by this morning and asked to speak with us."

"About what?" Lilly asked, furrowing her eyebrows and looking back to Bucky.

"I don't know."

For all of the differences between Lilly and Rocio--and there were many--their brain processing was eerily similar.

Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. "I um--I don't know if you want--" he gestured to Rocio. "Here for this."

"Rocio, go to your ro--the playroom," you corrected.

"I promise I'll be quiet if you let me--" Rocio started, and Lilly cut her off.

"Rocio, take your brother and go up to the playroom please,"

"But--" Rocio's face melted into the start of a complaint, but there a sharp cut of her mother's eyes stopped her dead. You remembered being on the receiving end of that look quite a few times while she was growing up. If anything it'd grown in power.

Rocio stomped forward, taking Ravi by the hand who whined and complained until she let him pick up a few cars to take with him, and the two exited the room, heavy footsteps echoing up the staircase.

You turned back to Bucky who was staring over Lilly's head, at the wall of family pictures.

The idea had hit you four years ago after Rocio woke up crying from a nightmare. Together, you spent the night going through old photo albums and Facebook albums, searching for the best pictures of the family. You ended the night with about forty pictures that needed to be framed, and the whole project took about a week to finish.

Every time the two of you ate lunch together over the past four years, Rocio would choose a picture, and you would tell her the story behind the picture. Your eyes flitted amongst them now.

There was the first time Lilly held you as a baby which was also the first time you smiled. Lilly's high school graduation--one of the few pictures with both of your parents in it, hovering on either side of Lilly as a six year old you sat on her hip. Lilly and Hector's beautiful wedding day. Lilly and Hector at your high school graduation. Lilly and you at the baby shower for Rocio, and Lilly and Hector at the shower for Ravi. There was one of Rocio's grandparents meeting her for the first time, and a good number of photos documenting your visits out to the family. Before the blip.

During your four years together, you and Rocio had also taken pictures of memories the family couldn't be there for and hung them on the wall; reminders of stories to tell should they ever return.

Rocio and you moving into a new house.

Rocio's first day of Kindergarten, first, and second grade.

The two of you and Rocio's ill-fated hamster, Churro.

Birthday parties and day trips that the rest of the family should have attended.

Bucky stared at the pictures, his frown deepening.

"Would you like to sit?" Lilly invited, allowing her collected professional persona to seep into her voice and straighten her spine.

The super soldier nodded, choosing the chair at the end of the table, closest to the door. He wet his lips, his eyes drawn from the pictures and down to the wooden table. It was strange seeing an Avenger--someone who had fought Thanos--seem so nervous in the company of two ordinary women.

He reminded you of the fourth graders who entered your office.

The fourth graders were always so hesitant to work with you--terrified of opening up and showing even a glimpse of vulnerability. It took three sessions just to get them to admit that they weren't fine and a few more before they lost the skittish look in their eyes. You doubted Bucky would be pried open by bags of chips or any of her fidgets, but figured you could at least try.

"Can I get you something to drink?" you asked, and Bucky shook his head.

"I don't want to take up too much of your time."

You nodded, and Lilly cocked her head. "So what brings an Avenger to my sister's house?"

He wet his lips and then looked up at the pair of you. "You're part of my efforts to make amends." Bucky made an attempt at a smile.

Across the table, Lilly's chest constricted with barely suppressed laughter, and the corners of your lips twitched in and out of a smile. Whoever had advised him to smile, surely hadn't meant for him to smile like that.

"What are you here to make amends for?" Lilly asked, her voice steady and betraying none of her amusement.

"I…" his eyes drifted back to the wall of pictures looming beside the group. "I'm the one responsible for your parents death."

You felt the world stop.

Or maybe it wasn't the world, maybe you stopped. Maybe every single atom within you stilled for a moment. Maybe your brain shut down and heart paused its beating, keeping you from thinking or feeling anything other than the numbness of shock. Because as surprising as it was for Bucky Barnes to show up on your doorstep at ten in the morning, you never expected he was responsible for changing your entire life.

"I know there's nothing, I could ever do to truly make amends--"

"You don't need to make amends."

Everything seemed to restart then. Your heart picked up its beating and brain whirred into action, sifting through memories and thoughts you'd long ago pushed to the back of your mind and locked there to remain untouched even by years of therapy.

Your skin prickled with flashes of images. The dark figure at the top of the staircase, the glint of metal you'd assumed was a gun in his hand, the cold blankness of his stare as his eyes bore into yours. And then the horror and sick relief of finding your parents in the moments after his disappearance.

"They were horrible people, and I'm glad they're dead. Thank you for salvaging my childhood"

"Y/N," Lilly gasped, horrified.

"You hated them too," you argued back. "Don't pretend you're not glad that Rocio and Ravi never have to meet them."

"Our relationship with our parents aside, they were still our parents. The least we can do is not thank the man who murdered them in their sleep."

Bucky for his part looked completely bewildered as his eyes darted between the two arguing sisters.

You shook your head. "You were more of a parent to me than they ever were."

"And it's because of that that I remember you waking up screaming every night for three years. So if you're not going to ask for amends for our parents' murder, at least ask for amends for what you had to go through because of him."

"My nightmares aren't because of him," you dismissed. Lilly would never believe--let alone understand--the reason behind your nightmares.

Seeing the argument was fruitless, Lilly tsked and dismissed you with a flip of her hair, turning instead to address Bucky. "Why?"

"Why…" Bucky stumbled along, confused by the conversational whiplash or the vague question.

"Why did you kill our parents?" Lilly demanded.

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"It matters to me."

You stared at your sister for a solid thirty seconds before, and shutting your eyes and bowing your head in surrender. Lilly didn't understand. If you had it your way, Lilly would never understand. You would never burden your sister like that.

Bucky swallowed hard. "I wasn't told the specifics of every...assignment. All I know is that your parents were working on something HYDRA wanted, and when they were offered a chance to join the cause, they declined. I was tasked with eliyoution and retrieval."

"Retrieval?" Lilly pressed

"Of their research."

Lilly gave him a single nod before looking down at the table in front of her. "I didn't even know they were conducting their own research."

You felt her skin prickle, an icy hot sensation shooting through your veins. Carefully calm, you reached across the table, palms open for your sister's hands. Lilly placed her hands into yours. "They never let us get to know them," you said gently, squeezing Lilly's hands. "That's why I'm angry and you're hurt."

Even as you said this, you could feel Bucky's gaze on you, intently studying your motions and facial expressions.

You looked back at him. "Thank you for coming to tell us. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

He nodded, his brow still slightly creased as he looked at her. And then his gaze flicked to Lilly, and you released a breath.

"I know it doesn't mean much--it doesn't change anything, but I'm not the person who did that anymore. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James "Bucky" Barnes."

Lilly nodded, releasing your hands and looking Bucky square in the face. Her own expression was completely neutral, not a trace of a tear or any of the hurt she'd voiced.

"If you want to make amends, you should come here for Thanksgiving."

Neither you nor Bucky had been expecting that. Your instinctive reaction was to snort out a laugh as if it were a joke, and Bucky looked like the very dictionary definition of confusion: brow knitted together, eyes narrowed, mouth hanging open.

"It would mean the world to my daughter. You can think about it as replacing a memory of my daughter meeting her grandparents. you's right, this will probably be a happier memory anyway."

"You have to come!" Rocio rushed into the room, you and Lilly shouting her name in a mixture of surprise, horror, and reprimand. The eight year old made no excuses or explanations. Instead she stood by Bucky's chair, peering up at him with a bright intensity only a child could muster. "Please."

Bucky looked away from Rocio to Lilly and then you. "Ok."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #tfatws #fatws #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws fic #tfatws fic #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #post-end game #james buchanan barnes #marvel #avengers #marvel fic #avengers fic

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hansolmates · 3 years

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cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment w/c; 3.3k a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse and @woozisnoots for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right.

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right.

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right.

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?”

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get.

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right.

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left.

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out.

Billiam has Super-liked you!

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam.

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick.

Billiam is typing…

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment.

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.”

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!”

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!”

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly.

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!”

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep.

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?”

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen.

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky.

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder.

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask.

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer.

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off.

He’s getting an incoming call. From you.

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard.

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up.

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this.

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up.

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?”

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it.

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.”

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.”

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity.

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?”

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?”

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.”

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit.

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?”

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.”

“Good night.”

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence.

The waning starts today.

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time?

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep?

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe.

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night.

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal.

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies.

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.”

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy.

“Who is it?”

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.”

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard.

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder.

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?”

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship.

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.”

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you.

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.”

Liar. He’s a liar.

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.”

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?”

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s.

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—”

“Uji?”

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm.

“Uh, hey?”

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement.

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!”

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away.

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?”

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together.

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down.

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him.

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.”

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look.

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?”

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch.

“It’s—”

“Complicated.”

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly.

“There’s things you’re not telling me.”

“Right.”

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add.

“Yes.”

“Then what are some things you can tell me?”

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.”

“Paperwork?”

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life?

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens.

“Really.”

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.”

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

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eijie-cavies · 3 years

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Wen Kexing and the great divide.

So as we all know Episode 32 and 33 has left us with a plethora of questions and the fans are divided in terms of their view on Wen Kexing's plan. Tbh that is to be expected if you look at it. It was an asshole move to hide everything from A-Xu and leave him to find his soulmate's dead body only to find holy shit this motherfucker is alive still what the hell. And so a lot of the fans sided with the argument that Wen Kexing never learned and was acting like a selfish lone wolf. But today i am here to try to analyze the plan between Scorpion king, Wen Kexing and Ye bai Ye.

Please keep in mind i haven't watched the entirety of the show yet and so some theories here might not fit in with the rest of Kexing's explanation for the next episode.

Also thid will contain spoilers so please be warned.

Alright let's start. I will be dividing this analysis into parts. 1st part is the show's script and budgeting and why they chose the route that the went with.

2nd part is my theories on the heroes conference and why it was rushed as well as the timeline.

And lastly Wen Kexing's POV and the analysis for his plan and why he did what he did keeping A-Xu in mind as well.

A few extra bonuses is the romeo and juliet plot and why i think it had to be in the plot somehow.

So lets start, sit down and grab a drink for this you will need it.

1st part.

Scriptwriting and budgeting.

This show was supposed to have 45 episode and so the plot would have had more time to marinate and kick in if it weren't for the shortening of the epsiode.

With this in mind the scriptwriter had originally planned for this 45 episode and sadly we won't probably know what was supposed to happen if it weren't cut to 36 episode. But we do have Wolong nuts to thank for giving the drama sponsorship and making the drama into 36 rather than 32. If we had only 32 episodes in this drama everything would have felt too rushed and fast paced. And so to have to cut 9 episodes worth of plot the screewriter was put in a tight spot on how to cram three different events. Namely the kidnapping, the exposing of Zhao Jing and of course the wedding plot as well.

Thus the Romeo and Juliet plot was born. We will be discussing this plot in depth later on in the analysis. Nonetheless if they have had all the freedom and budget it would have been nice to see a plot of Zhou Zishu, Wen Kexing and The Scorpion King all work together to bring Zhao Jing down. For now let us work on the plot given to us.

2.) Timeline.

The heroes conference is a huge deal, this is where EVERYONE of big sects and names gather in the martial arts world, its the equivalent of the whole world witnessing everything. This event is a big part of the plan that the three accomplices had, if they didn't act right away Wen Kexing and Xie'er (Scorpion King) wouldn't have had the chance to expose Zhao Jing in the future, because like what the beauty ghost relayed, once the heroes conference is over Zhao Jing planned on killing Xie'er and eradicating the ghost valley. There would have been no other time to take him down, no time to wait for another heroes conference as Zhao Jing would have risen in power already, they would have been too powerful to stop and the merits he would have gained by then would be multiplies, the people wouldnt see him as evil anymore. Therefore it was crucial to strike at the time where they are most vulnerable and the seed of doubt was still fresh, if they had waited, everyone would have disregarded Wen Kexing as a mad man and praised Zhao Jing for saving them from the purges of the ghost valley.

And scorpion king? Who would believe him if he was the only one to take a stand? His Godfather no doubt would have acted as if he didnt know what Scorpion was saying and act innocent. Even if he was spared Scorpion had no allies other than Wen Kexing who's allies was also born out of the same hatred they had for Zhao Jing. Everyone was forced to act swiftly, it was an all or none kind of situation. Now if we backtrack to the previous episodes, not two episode ago Zhou Zishu was heavily injured because of the kidnapping and was given no time to properly heal before everything needed to be set. As you can see in episode 31 Wen Kexing was in a hurry to meet Xie'er, don't you think it was iffy that he would leave A-Xu like that if he was still injured? The Wen Kexing that we all know would not have moved a single inch from Zhou Zishu's side if he were injured. And this is because of a lot of things which we will be getting to in the third part of the analysis.

Now on the subject of the plan and how Chengling had somehow gotten a hold of it. Simple, Ye bai Yi. He is free to roam around, sending messages and talking to people behind the scenes, we never really knew what he did after he left Wen kexing at four seasons manor and the reason why he had agreed on the rushed reopening of the heroes conference. but if you think about it it fits with the timeline. Zhao Jing wanted to reopen the heroes conference and Ye Bai Yi was sure that they were out to hunt down the chief of the ghost valley. If you remember the letter in episode 27 you will understand.

Why did they get that letter in the first place when the four seasons manor wasnt even fully restored yet? The martial arts world didnt even know that Zishu was on the road to reopening it and yet he got an invitation. This is Ye Bai Yi's first clue and a nudge for Wen Kexing to take action. This leads us to part 3. Wen Kexing's plan.

3. Wen Kexing's plan.

Now the question is why didn't Wen Kexing think to tell Zhou Zishu his plan? Simple. He is heavily injured. Now i was stuck here as well because i would have thought, why couldnt he just trust Zishu of his plan? BUT you all have forgotten this.

Wen Kexing has asked this two times, he wanted tell Chengling already so the kid could process it before he could stage his plan and possibly even tell Zhou Zishu on how he can use the heroes conference as an event where he can expose Zhao Jing. But Zhou Zishu was kidnapped, tortured and injured. There was no time to tell him of the plan without him having to stop Wen Kexing from doing it. At first i thought this didnt make sense, Wen should have trusted Zishu enough to carry on without distrubance right? Well a very nice person in Youtube provided some very interesting and eye opening points for me.

And they are right, if i were Wen kexing i wouldn't want to burden Zishu of having to wait around thinking where i went off to, why do you think he told A-Xiang to take care of Zishu and promised to go back in one piece?

A-Xiang was also kept in the dark of the plan, the only plan she knew was that Wen Kexing is planning to have an alliance with the scorpion king and thats it. He didnt fully disclose everything either.

Wen Kexing's plan was simple, after he was regarded as "Dead" he probably would have went home to tell Zhou Zishu he was completely fine and it was all a ruse to trap Zhao Jing. BUT the problem was that Zishu set out to find him, Bei Yuan and Da Wu couldn't stop him either as they had no time to explain everything without Zishu panicking. Like i said this was all too rushed of a plan for Zishu to comprehend specially when he needed to heal as fast as possible.

What they could only do is give Zishu a medicine to ensure that if he ever did take out the nails he would still be okay. And that was the downfall of Kexing's plan. He didnt expect Zishu to have escaped his friends watchful eyes and go to the siege, ever wonder why Kexing said this when Zishu arrived?

He was trying to convince Zishu to leave, make him believe that Wen Kexing is out for blood. But Zishu didn't fall for it, instead he stayed which was NOT a part of the plan at all. There was nothing Kexing could have done now, the siege was happening and he could only play along and move forward. And if you look closely again just as they were about to attack Kexing, Ye Ba Yi came to fight Kexing at the VERY right time, and who fought Zhou Zishu?

The three ghosts WuChang, his subordinate and Happy ghost. Why didn't anyone else go for Zishu? They could have had the scorpions attack him but they chose the Ghosts who are a part of Wen Kexing's valley, mind you these three ghosts were there when they rescued Zishu wouldn't it just sound stupid if they were fighting Zishu to kill him? No. What they tried to do is separate Zishu from Wen Kexing. Ye Bai ye could have eliminated Wen in 10 moves, he said this himself. But they had this complicated dance that somehow landed Wen Kexing at the edge of the cliff and left Chengling to do the rest.

And so he fell and Zishu followed. If you look closely even Ye Bai Yi was surprised that Zhishu jumped. NONE of it was part of the plan. From the moment Zishu entered to the moment he jumped no one planned for it.

And if you are upset of Zishu having to see Kexing's dead body and breaking his heart, this again was NOT A part of the plan. Beauty ghost was there to protect the corpse, if the corpse had not been burned it would have been presented to the martial art world and Kexing would come back as a different person and telling them "They got it wrong. That corpse is the chief of the ghost valley, i am Wen Kexing the disciple of four seasons manor" and it would have been more belieavable. But plans went south, Zishu found the corpse further solidfying that Kexing (in his mind) is dead and so he took out the nails. Ke xing couldn't show himself to stop Zishu either, there was so little time and he couldn't risk himself be seen.

Some others had been in the dark of the plan as well, not just Zishu, and the reason Wen Kexing didn't dare tell him was not because he didn't trust Zishu to stay away and let the plan carry out, instead he know EXACTLY what this will do to Zishu. Wen Kexing's plan was to HIDE Zishu away until the conference ended. Because with Da Wu and Bei Yuan, there would have been no news about Ke Xing dying that would have reached their place and Zishu would have had all the time to recover as Ke Xing took revenge and finally come back home as a new person.

He NEEDED Zishu to stay away from the fight to help himself heal just enough to get the nails out.

His revenge done and his new goal to be with Zishu for the rest of their lives. But unfortunate events happened, Zishu found out and there was other way to go but forward.

Ever wonder why Kexing had this look on his face on episode 33?

He wanted so bad to explain everything but the spotlight was on him and this was the only time he will be given the chance to take a stand. This is now between him and the Zhao Jing. Like everything there was nothing to do but move forward.

Now for bonus part.

Romeo and Juliet plot.

Romeo and Juliet plot is basically person A percieved as "Dead" and person B endagering their life to the brink of death only to find person A was alive and well but Person B is for real dying.

Now tbh i wasn't a big fan of the Romeo and Juliet plot, this was the reason why fans became so divided and saying Kexing didn't learn his lesson therefore lossing their faith in Kexing and Zishu's relationship. He was pervieved as childish and selfish, And tbh they would have had so many plot devices that they can use to maximize full on plotting and bringing down Zhao Jing. But going back to my first point of the budgeting im guessing the scriptwriter had struggled to cram it all in. It was already episode 33 and they still had two more plots to cram in (the wedding and curing Zishu) so im not as upset as much. In the end the whole staff gave their best and poured their heart and soul into the drama. On an ending note i'll just let this nice person do the talking for me

Thank you for reading! If you guys have your own theories feel free to discuss or voice them out.

#wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #word of honor #shan he ling #faraway wanderers #analysis

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blue-bird-kny · 3 years

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How You Spend Days Off

I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda

P.S: Be safe out after dark!

Warning: N/A

( 2.1K+ words)

↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}

Yuji:

Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.

Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can

It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.

“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.

You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.

“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.

Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.

Megumi:

Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).

On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.

Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.

You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.

“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.

His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.

Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’

Nobara

Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.

She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.

You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)

The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.

“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”

She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.

“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.

You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”

Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.

“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”

Masterlist

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #megumi x reader #nobara x y/n #nobara x reader #yuji x y/n #yuji x reader #megumi x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

Text

summary: you became fuck buddies with Rafael after your friend Rita played matchmaker. As a FBI agent, you’re helping SVU during the manhunt of Yates and Rudnick.

words: 3,141

warnings: smut, pegging, sub/dom, sexting, alcohol

i’m very insecure about writing smut... let me know if i’m doing to good job or if i should stop... also, sorry for the typos..

High hopes

Rafael Barba wished he had stayed in bed today. The day kept getting worse and worse. He was stuck in Rikers Island for hours, only to find out that Yates and Rudnick escaped. He growled and wished he could go back to last night, in bed with you.

You met Rafael through Rita Calhoun, or so to speak. You waited in front of the courthouse one day, to go to lunch with your friend, and she was walking down with a handsome dark-haired man. She gave you a quick sign, telling you to wait a minute, but you walked up to them instead. “What don’t you understand in this sign?” she asked, raising her forefinger, just like she did a minute ago.

“I understand this one better,” you showed your middle finger, with a big grin. You heard her friend laughing on your left.

“Very elegant, Y/N.” she answered. “Barba, we’ll go back to that later. Giving you time to come to your senses,”

“To put your hopes too high, Rita,”

“You must be ADA Barba,” you interrupted them and offered your hand to him.

“And you are?” he asked, taking his time to shake your hand.

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, FBI. Rita’s cutest friend,”

“Cute, indeed,” Barba agreed, even if he would say beautiful, sexy and powerful.

“Dear god, I’m gonna throw up,” Rita spoke up. “You know what, Y/N, I’ll give you his number and you’ll contact him so I don’t have to watch this,”

And Rita did give you his number. You tentatively texted him a few days after, to which he openly responded. In a few days, you and Rafael had your first physical encounter. Rules are simple; just sex, no feelings. Rafael was fine with it, casual relationships have been his thing for many years but it always ends because the other caught feelings. Never him. On your side, you just never fell really in love. You had boyfriends, you had feelings, but never enough to make it work. You know this comes from your sad childhood but you never wanted to give a try to some therapy bullshit. You were fine with it.

Sex with Rafael was amazing. Actually, ‘amazing’ is a small word to what it actually was. The best you ever had. But no chance in hell, you let him know that. His ego’s already big enough, he doesn’t need to feel more cocky in bed. It was so good though, it became more and more regular. You couldn’t get enough of each other. And as you started to trust more one another, you began to try new things. Try, discover.

You and Rafael were so damn compatible sexually speaking. And you both managed to keep feelings out of it. Or so you thought.

That day became such a mess, FBI got brought in. When Rafael saw you walking into the precinct, he felt his body reacting immediately. “Not the time to get aroused, Rafael,” he warned himself. But how could he not? You had that powerful strut, like you owned the room. Rafael had never been into badass women before, he likes that in men. But you were a badass and god how it turns him on. He thought about the few times you got dominant on him. He needs more of that. He needs more of you.

He watched you introducing yourself to Olivia, and then to the rest of the squad. When you finally noticed him, you just gave him a nod before walking over to him. “Field Agent Y/L/N, me and my team are here to find your two escaped prisoners,” you had a smile plastered on your face. As if it was fun to you. “Don’t worry, I do that every day of the week,” you added, loud enough so the squad heard.

“This is bad, Y/N,” he said, barely above a whisper. You could feel he was extremely tense, he must go through a lot of pressure because of the situation.

After a briefing with everyone involved in the search, you quickly grabbed your phone and texted Rafael.

When this is all over, I’ll suck the pressure out of you.

You can read him. He hates it. But your text got him more aroused.

Rafael stayed at the precinct all night long, waiting for good news. You were around somewhere, chasing after Yates and Rudnick. He was exhausted. He couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Find them, babygirl. I don’t know how long I can wait. He texted you. Was it bad to think about you, your body, your most intimate parts, in a time like this? Probably. But it made this night go faster. He’s an ADA, there’s nothing he can do, except waiting. Many times he was told to go home. He could have. But he wanted you to take him home. He didn’t want to leave without you.

Maybe he was screwed already.

Still up, Sir, huh? Can’t go to sleep without a good fuck?

Y/N, do you really want to sext during a manhunting you’re leading?

Dodds driving. He thinks I’m exchanging with my team. To be fair, I am. You like when we sext, don’t you?

You know I do. But this is not an appropriate time to make me hard.

Cause sending me a pic of you masturbating while I’m out with my friends is appropriate, maybe?

Aw, still mad about that, babygirl? I thought you liked it.

I did. But you still haven’t paid for that.

Wasn’t I a good boy last night?

Hell, no and you know it. A good boy doesn’t come until he’s allowed to.

Whoops…

More punishment to come, Rafaelito. Just you wait.

Damn. Be fast, Y/N.

Everyone was out there looking for the two fugitives, so Rafael went to the restroom. He was getting really hard and he just wanted to stroke himself. But he couldn’t. The guilt gets the best of him. He can’t masturbate in SVU’s restroom in the middle of a manhunting. This is highly inappropriate. He couldn’t help but to look at nudes you sent him, though. After the first one you sent, you asked for his phone and made it secure. He had to enter a password to access the files where all your pictures were. There’s one he particularly loves and it’s not nude you sent. It’s a picture he took one night, while he had you handcuffed to his bed frame. He had just made you cum with his tongue and fingers, you had bites marks and hickeys on your body. You looked desperate in a good way. Your lips were swollen for all the kissing. He stood up on the bed, with his phone in hand. “Wh—what are you doing?” You asked, out of breath and confused.

“Immortalising my work of art,” he said and snapped the picture. “You’re so damn beautiful when you come down from your high, with all of these marks I made,”

What was he doing? Was he falling for you? No, he can’t. You have rules. He just fell for your fucking body. Your perfect body he can’t stop thinking about. He gave himself a few strokes while looking at the pictures but he got stopped by a text from Liv, saying they got Rudnick. He became self conscious about what he was doing. He zipped himself back in his pants, answered to Liv and waited until his erection was gone.

It took a few more hours before you found Yates too. He had been shot by you. Rafael didn’t know what to make of it. You never talk about your job or his, he doesn’t know how you’ll feel about killing someone. Maybe he won’t have sex for now. He had to go to his office anyway.

Putting an all nighter isn’t for him anymore. Poor man was exhausted, so he allowed himself a quick nap on his couch in the afternoon. He woke up, too his phone and saw he had a text from you.

Meet me tonight? My place?

Yes, please.

He showed up at your apartment around 7. He still didn’t know what to expect. He knocked and heard you saying it was open. He let himself in. He had come to your apartment three or four times only, you mostly met at his place. But he loves your apartment, it was minimalist but cozy, with a specific smell that was yours. He spotted you on your couch, a glass of wine in hand and another one of scotch waiting on the coffee table. He dropped his suitcase next to your kitchen counter and went to sit next to you.

“How are you?” He asked after a moment.

“Exhausted. I’m too old for sleepless nights,”

He laughed at that. You’re younger than him. “Don’t tell me about it,”

“Why did you stay? You could’ve gone back home. An ADA isn’t much help in a manhunt,”

“You ‘do that everyday of the week’, I thought it wouldn’t take you long to get them and that I could go home with you,”

“Teasing me, Rafael? Aren’t you in deep trouble already?”

“A little more, a little less. Who cares?”

“Finish your drink and get on your knees in front of me, Barba,”

He was in deep trouble every time you called him ‘Barba’. He did as told, he took the last sip of his scotch and got on his knees in front of you, waiting for your instructions. “Undress me,” you ordered. He undid your dark cargo pants, you lift your hips so he could take it off you. He then took off your blue blouse. You were in your underwear, matching dark purple lace. “Matching underwear, huh?” He smiled.

“Did I say you could talk?” You snapped.

“No ma’am. Sorry,” he swallowed. He was so hard already.

“Your case is getting worse, Barba. I want you to make me feel good, okay? You gonna take that silver tongue on yours and make me cum hard in your mouth,”

He nodded and softly traced his way on your thigh to your pussy with his mouth. He gave you a few kisses above the fabric of your panties and he put them aside. You were so wet and hot. He loved it but he didn’t say anything. He lapped a few times your clit, made small circles with his tongue before he gently hit it and sucked. He heard you moan and felt your nails on his scalp. He could cum by just eating you, but he had to control himself. He failed you two nights before, he can’t do it again. Rafael ate you like a starved man, until he felt your muscles tensing. You came on his face, chanting his name as you did. He felt proud. You were still coming down your high when you ordered him to go into the bedroom and wait for you, naked on your bed.

Rafael waited for what seemed to be hours. He had no idea what you were doing in the living room. He was naked on your bed and his erection was losing up. You finally joined him, with a glass of wine in one hand. You took sight of you as you drank. He felt like a prey and he loved every second of it. The look on your face as you looked at him was overwhelming. He felt like he was some kind of a sex god. “Getting tired, Barba?” You asked, finishing your drink.

“Never,” he answered, eagerly.

You put the glass on your desk and got on the bed. Your body was covering his and you kissed him deeply. You felt his cock getting hard against your abdomen. “Do you trust me?” You asked. For a moment, there was no game. No dominance. You just needed his trust and he gave it to you with a nod. You smiled, kissed him again and went to your closet.

You knew about Rafael’s bisexuality and you thought he was the one you could try the fantasy with. You came back and dropped a box next to the bed. He had no idea what was inside but he couldn’t wait to find out. But first, you wanted to go down on him. Your body over his, you gently kissed his neck and chest, biting here and there. “Hands above your head,” you said. “You don’t touch me, unless I allow you to,”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered, breathing hard from the teasing. He loves when you worship his body like this. It makes him feel good looking, sexy even.

“I’m gonna suck your big cock, Rafaelito. But if you come in my mouth, we won’t see each other for a long moment,” you warned him and he whined. “Show me what a good boy you are, or I’ll find someone else,”

Rafael tried to ignore the twinge in his heart when you said that. He doesn’t want you to find someone else. “I’ll be good, Y/N. I promise,” he breathed out. He was dying to touch you, kiss your body just like you’re kissing his. He was dying to fuck you senseless and ruin every other man for you.

The first lick you gave on his cock made him jump. “God,” he muttered. “Think about some boring law stuff,” he told himself. You took an enormous time licking and kissing his length before finally taking him in your mouth. You feel so warm, so good. You sucked him for a moment, you could feel his hips moving so his cock could hit the bottom of your throat. You watched him losing it. Rafael was fighting his urge to grab your hair and guide your mouth on him. You sucked his balls to give him a rest, but his cock was throbbing. He wanted to come, so bad. You went back to his long and heavy length, until you felt him grabbing your face and pulling you off. “I—I was about to—“ he was out of breath, “I’m sorry. Lo siento,” Rafael was all sweaty, his heart was racing so hard, he was sure you could hear it. “You’re so good—you—“ you shut him with a kiss and used your body to make him lay down again.

He took the opportunity to run his hands over your body. Since you didn’t say anything, he kept going and felt your skin under his fingers. He knew you were giving him time to recover, to gain control of his orgasm, but no matter what you had in mind next, he wasn’t going to last long. “Need a drink?” You gently offered.

“I—I’d like to, yes,”

He watched your ass sway as you left the room. You had grabbed your empty glass on the way, and came back with both glasses full. You sat to his side while you both drunk. He was staring. “Are you okay?” He asked.

You smiled. “Sure. Aren’t you?”

“On the edge,” he giggled.

You leaned in to kiss him. It wasn’t like the usual kisses. It was soft, tender, almost loving. “Your relief is coming, don’t worry,” you smiled against his mouth.

Once you both had finished your drinks, you finally showed him what was in the box. Among other things was a strap-on. You showed it to Rafael and saw his eyes darken. You needed his approval. “What do—?” You started to ask but he cut you off.

“Yes, yes! Yes, please,”

His reaction was better than you imagined. With a grin on your face, you jumped back on your bed and asked him to grab the lub from the nightstand. “To be honest, I’ve never done that before,” you giggled. Rafael could see you were a little tipsy - and maybe nervous? - but he trusted you anyway.

He cupped your cheek. “I trust you, Y/N. I’m all yours,” there was more means to this. He was yours in so many ways.

Before you started, he made one request. He wanted to be on his back while you fucked him with the strap-on. He wanted to see you, to look at you. He also wanted you to see him. Your looks make him feel so good.

After agreeing, you started to work on his butthole. You gently stroked with your saliva at first, and put some lube on your fingers before you slid one in him. He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. You gently worked on opening him. You were watching him all along, looking for any sign of discomfort on his face, but all you could see was pleasure. “Fuck me with it, please, Y/N,” he begged. Rafael was so hard, so excited, he didn’t know how long he could control himself.

You lined the plastic cock with his open butthole. “You can do better than that, Rafael,”

“Give it to you, I’m begging you. I need you to fuck me good, mi amor,” neither you or him paid attention to the pet name.

You gently pushed the strap-on into Rafael. Still staring at his face to see if it was okay, but he kept begging for more. After it was all in, you started to thrust into him. Slow and deep at first, you watched the plastic thing disappearing inside his ass, and Rafael’s cock rocking hard. “I’m gonna—I need to come, Y/N, please,”

Poor thing was on the edge more than he ever been. “Come for me, Rafael,”

He grabbed his cock and gave himself a few strokes until he came hard, screaming your name in the middle of Spanish curses. You were already soaking wet but the sight of him coming as you were fucking him, could’ve made you come too. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

As he was coming down from his orgasm, he saw you on the edge of the bed, fingering yourself. You needed the relief too. Rafael used his last strength to sit up and replace your fingers with his. He fingerfucked you and sucked on your nipples. You were holding him so close to your chest, he could barely breathe but he didn’t mind. He kept going until you came. He caught your moans with his mouth and watched you falling apart.

Screw the rules, he was in love.

Once you both came down, Rafael was scared you’d asked him to leave. No cuddling was also a rule. But tonight you didn’t care. You turned off the light and crawled into bed with him. “Does that mean I can stay?” He asked.

You tiredly giggled. “You’re asking now that I turned off the light?”

“Just wanted to make sure,” he said. “Can I hold you though?”

“Spoon or nothing,” you said.

Spooning you was perfect to Rafael.

#law and order svu #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order: special victims unit #rafael barba x you #barba x reader #rafael barba fic #rafael barba fanfic

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buglife · 3 years

Note

Perhaps a meeting between Dadmaster and the White Lady?

“Do you think that they might be okay with taking students again?”

Mato thought for a moment, walking beside his child in the restored Royal Gardens. They were just enjoying the quiet sights for a while, when Ghost brought up the possibility of teaching nail arts to the guards and knights of the realm. The question was a surprising one, which for a moment worried the beetle that something may be going on that he wasn't being told about.

“They might be, why do you ask?” He leaned down to look Ghost in the eyes. “Are you worried about something?”

“I just...I can’t be everywhere at once, even as a god.” They admitted, averting their gaze as though ashamed of the fact. “I want my people to be protected, even If I can’t be there. I don’t need protecting, but they do.”

“Well, that’s a fine reason as any.” Mato answered with a reassuring tone to his voice, glad to hear that nothing nefarious was going on. It was just Ghost being Ghost, worried over everyone's safety again. “You indeed can’t be everywhere, and perhaps more people knowing the nail arts would be a boon to the kingdom.”

“I thought so too, but there’s only you, me, Uncle Oro and Sheo, and Grandpa Sly who know how to even teach it. I can’t teach everyone by myself.” They gestured to themselves and their current 'mortal' form. They were certainly not as large as their twin, Hollow, nore were they even tall enough to reach Mato's shoulder. Even being a god, they wouldn't be able to instantly teach a rather intensive and practice heavy technique like the nail arts. It would have to be done the old fashioned way with actual teaching. They were right, they couldn't do it all by themselves. They would need some help.

“Did you ask Sly about this?” Mato thoughtfully replied. “He was the one to teach us, after all. He’d be able to help you for sure.”

Ghost nodded their head. “I asked Grandpa Sly and he said, and I quote, “I trained enough kids, now I want to enjoy my goddamn retirement.”

“Then what did he say when you offered to pay him?” Mato crossed his arms and raised a brow, anticipating the answer.

“Where do I sign?” The void being snorted in amusement, shoulders shaking with the effort to not burst into outright laughter. Mato was not so reserved.

“HAHA! Of course that old miser would!” Mato bellowed a deep belly laugh and slapped Ghost so hard on the back it sent them stumbling a little. In the corner of his eye, he could see the posted guardsmen stiffen at the interaction. “To be honest, I think he also wants to be able to brag about being able to beat up knights and guardsmen all day without getting a treason charge.”

“That and I think Uncle Oro would be down with It too. He’s that kinda guy.” Ghost chirped, eyes now full of mirth. They didn’t seem to mind being bodily hauled around by their father, despite their status as a King. “He likes putting bugs who are a little too full of themselves back in their place, and I saw some of the new applicants. I think he’d do a lot of good here.”

Mato hummed in thought. Oro was very different from the rest of the brothers, and even Sly. He'd need special motivation and he wasn't always swayed by Geo. “What do you have in mind to get him out of his hovel and here in the city?”

“I think he wouldn’t mind if I offered to give him a private candy chef on call that I will employ.” They drummed their claws together, amused by their own cleverness. “I remember that he used to train me in exchange for honey I’d sneak out of the Hive. Imagine what he’d do for whatever sweets his heart desires that could be made on demand?”

“There’s my little tactician! That will get him for sure.” Mato beamed with pride, not like Ghost had to do much to get him to be proud of them to begin with. “Sheo I think might just be too busy with his husband right now for teaching beyond his art school.”

They nodded in response and smiled up at their father, who quickly reached down to give them a gentle noogie. They didn’t bother trying to escape and accepted their affection without so much of a flinch. Good. Mato released them after a chitin crushing hug and set them back on their feet.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He asked softly, deciding to voice the thoughts he was having. It was one thing to feel pride for someone, it was another to let them know that you thought as such.

Ghost nodded, a bit of gray coloring the shell that made up their face, nudging a few pebbles with a foot. “I know, thanks Dad.”

He was about to comment further when a little dragonfly suddenly dropped out of the air and pancaked into the cobble stones below them. Both Nailmaster and King leapt backwards from the sudden noise and movement, drawing their nails together in a smooth motion through instinct alone. Then, when nothing outright attacked them, they took a second look.

It was a messenger to be sure. The dragonfly was wearing a bag and a hat that denoted them as a member of the messenger corps. At first Mato thought that the bug was injured from the crash, but the amount of scrapes and cuts alone couldn’t have been caused by just hitting stone. They wearily reached up to hold out a hemo-stained letter, somewhat reeling from the hit they took, antenna bent and crooked.

“Messenger Stikks, reporting with an urgent message from Kingdom’s edge!” The dragonfly slurred, struggling to focus enough to hold the letter out straight. They closed one eye and narrowed the other, adjusting their grip so that the letter was actually in front of Ghost and not a few feet to the left. “Antlion larvae have dug in from the wastes and they are everywhere!”

Ghost took the letter and read it quickly. Then read it again. They finally put the paper down and sighed, all the humor they had merely seconds ago sucked out by the reality of their station.

“Something the matter, my child? Do you need help?” Mato had yet to release his grip on his great nail, moving the other hand to rest it on their shoulder in an act of comfot.

Ghost shook their head with a huff of annoyance. “This wouldn’t be a problem if the coliseum would have just left the larvae alone. The letter is from the head Fool, apparently they caught a few, which then escaped, and now is tunneling under the arena and is causing sections to collapse on itself. They are requesting aid from me as per our treaty.”

“Well, they are called Fools for a reason.” Mato could only shrug at that. “Even I wouldn’t mess with a doodlebug.”

“...A what?”

“Just a nickname for them.” Mato bent over and picked up the dragonfly. “You alright son?” He looked the bug over. They were kind of smooshed and bent up, but it seemed like they’d be okay after getting some medical attention.

“Aye aye, sir!” The dragonfly saluted and missed, causing them to punch themselves in the head with a CRACK.

Mato was then holding a completely unconscious bug. He winced and waved over a guard, handing the poor bug over to be taken to the nearest doctor. Ghost was trying to not laugh, obviously feeling bad for the poor bug, but Mato had to admit it was kind of funny.

“You sure you don’t need help, Ghost?” Mato asked again, once the guard and dragonfly were gone. He focused hard with his dad powers to determine if Ghost was going to tell the truth. God King or not, they were still his kid and he’d be damned if he let them run off and get themselves hurt.

They shook their head. “No Dad, I will be fine. I’ll just have to pull out the larvae and then set them loose out in the wastes. Nobody else has to get hurt today.”

He nodded. “As long as you’ll be okay. I trust you to know your own limits.”

“I will.” They tilted their head up in a smile. “Feel free to wander around for a bit, I’ll be back soon and we can meet up with Quirrel and Hollow later for dinner.”

“Sounds good to me, come back safe.” He gave them a short hug and a pat to the back.

They nodded and stepped back, suddenly dissolving into liquified void, seeping into the stonework and vanishing from view. It was a very blink and you miss it type action for sure. Teleporting was different from bug to bug, but Ghost sure did know how to make and exit when they needed to make one quick. Soon the last bits of excess void evaporated and not a single trace was left behind that the King was even standing there. Well, with nothing else to do but wait, he decided to take their advice and take a look around. After the palace was built over top of the old one, the gardens were also revitalized. A lot of work had been put into the place and once things were green and blooming again, it was opened up for the public. It was fairly peaceful and offered a lot of nice spots to simply sit and reflect should one want to.

He decided that perhaps the best thing to do was to find such a spot and meditate for a while. Ghost had given him quite a bit of information to consider. The idea of teaching the nail arts to the next generation of warriors was a interesting one and he wasn’t quite sure how to implement such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a school would have to be made. He’d have to talk to his own father and brothers as well about it. Perhaps a solution would come to him once he emptied his mind for a while.

He walked around gardens, looking for a quiet spot for Ghost to find him later, when he was stopped by a sight that made him question his vision. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, but he still saw the same figure that used to be everywhere before the infection began.

The White Lady sat on a stone bench, idlily watering a patch of flowers using a simple watering can. Mato could see no finery on her or any mark of a station beyond a civilian on her person. She was dressed simply in white robes, the roots on her head curled up and branching outwards in a mess of tiny white leaves and petals. She didn’t seem to notice him, giving the flowers on the ground a drink as she hummed to herself, her eyes closed in either thought or contentment.

To be honest, it Mato didn’t quite know what to think at first. Most of the citizens of Hallownest gave little thought to their previous Queen. Before Hollow was even locked into the temple, she had fled her people and her home to wall herself within her personal gardens, taking one of the great knights with her. When it was clear that Hollow wasn’t going to be able to hold back the wrath of the Radiance, the King also fled, abandoning the kingdom to their fate. Most remembered this, and cared little about the fates of the rulers who vanished during the kingdom’s darkest hour, leaving the common bug to fend for themselves with no leadership and no help.

They weren’t remembered fondly, regulated to history books and a cautionary tales of pride and cowardice.

It was only years of training that kept him from fully succumbing to rage. How dare she! How dare she sit here all pretty in the palace gardens, like she never allowed the king to murder their own children and abandoned every bug that looked up to her when things didn’t work out perfectly? The same lady who annexed an entire section of another people’s land for her own personal gardens? The same Lady that sat a scant few meters away from the home of those she most hurt?

And why was she here? From what he understood, Ghost did not like her one bit. Even gentle and sweet Hollow only recalled moments with her to be painful and refused to further elaborate on the matter. He got most of the story from Ghost, and what he heard made him livid. He often wondered what he would say to the former king and queen should he meet them again, and now he was being presented with such an opportunity.

He took a few deep breaths. As far as he knew, she was no longer his Queen nor any sort of authority over him anymore. He would get a few answers, no, he demanded them.

He approached her, no longer masking the noise of his movements as his boots crunched a few discarded dead leaves. She paused in her humming and turned her face to fix her startling blue eyes on him. Mato stared back, unafraid and resolute. She balked slightly from the force of his stare, but composed herself by sitting up and gently smiling down on him.

“Hello.” She said, her voice soft and whispery, like a breeze through the leaves of a willow tree. “How can I help you?”

“What are you doing here.” Mato demanded. The question was short and very much to the point.

“Me? Well, my child-”

“They are not your child.” Mato hissed, cutting off her words with an enraged snarl. “You don’t get to call them that, not after what you and the pale bastard did to them!”

She seemed taken aback for a moment, narrowing her eyes as her roots shuddered, before she seemed to slump into herself. She turned her head away for a moment, taking in an audible breath as she turned it back to glance back at the Nailmaster. “You act as if I don’t regret what we were forced to do.”

“You always had a choice.” Mato countered. “You could have done anything other than let thousands of your children lay dead at the bottom of the abyss. Have you even gone down there to see them? Offer some sort of rites like any parent would do for their deceased children?”

“It does not matter, Ghost has-”

“King Ghost.” He once again corrected her. Only family got to refer to them by their name alone and fiercely guarded such a privilege. Especially since they had to pick their own name. The Lady and the King didn't even feel it fitting to give them something as simple as a name.

“Yes." She sighed, "King Ghost has informed me that their siblings besides Hollow now reside within the void... at rest, which is now a part of them. Empty rites and platitudes will not bring them back, nor erase what I have...what we have done.”

Mato stared at her for a moment, scanning her face and body for any hint of lies or manipulation. To his surprise, he found none, just an old woman who was full of regrets.

“Then why are you here?” He finally spoke and crossed his arms in front of him. “My child obviously knows that you are here, why let you in? You told them to kill their own sibling and take their place in a plan that already failed, just to hold the mad goddess at bay for a scant few more years while you could still hide in the Gardens and play pretend. Why?” He could barely keep the fury from his voice as he spoke. He could see her flinch with each accusation, her eyes blurring with what might be tears, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that was he was saying was impacting her in some way, and he was happy for that at least.

She was silent for a moment, the roots and branches that made up her head curling in on themselves and shuddering slightly. A few leaves and petals dropped to the stones below and rapidly lost their otherworldly shimmer. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

Mato narrowed his eyes behind the hard shell of his mask. “You gottah be shitting me.”

“I speak the truth.” She shifted in her seat so she could face him fully. “All I know, is that one day, King Ghost arrived where I have made my exile. They commanded me to unroot myself. I could sense the brand on them, the pieces of my husband and I that made them, and the spark of a higher power, so I obeyed. It took time to unroot myself, but once I did they commanded me to unbind myself and to come with them.” She paused a moment to look up, as thought remembering a feeling or a snippet of a memory. “I had diminished myself, made myself weak. I could no longer see, so they commanded that I reside here to recover. I did so, and when I saw them for the first time I was astonished and humbled. I had believed that perhaps that they would take revenge and have me executed or banish me to the wastes, but... they did not. Instead, they told me that I will do what I was meant to do and I was not permitted to run away again.”

Mato was silent, listening as the White Lady spoke, watching her face as it went through a range of emotions. Regret, bitterness, elation, joy, shame...all flickered through her pale face and shimmering eyes.

“My sentence was to bring life back to the kingdom, as it was my duty long before the Pale Wyrm even chose Hallownest to rebirth himself in. I would, as they put it, ‘have to clean up my mess’ and I have been doing as such.”

“I did notice everything get greener.” Mato muttered. He had noticed the yields from the farms were also quite abundant and rich. The kingdom should have gone through a period of famine as they rebuilt, but there was food. Nothing refined at the beginning, but nobody went hungry. “Was that you?”

She nodded, serene as she put her watering can to the side. She lifted one of her roots from the ground, leaving a neat little hole that she dropped a single seed into. “Yes, I am a goddess of life and fertility, it brings me joy to know that life has begun anew.”

“Are you a prisoner here, then?” He looked, but saw no chains, no shackles, and not even the delicate weave of spells or magic. Nothing that could force her to stay here.

“Goodness no.” She shook her head, eyes curled up in slight amusement. “There is not a place I could run that my ch….my king could not find me. Nore do I expect that they are such a god to begin with. I am here as they said, to clean up my own mess. Nothing more, and nothing less. I have been given my own home here.” She gestured to a cottage nestled in among the trees, just barely out of sight, most likely for her own privacy. “I have no need to leave, nore am I under duress. I simply am.”

Mato’s rage was beginning to cool somewhat. From what he understood, his child had decided to grow beyond the pettiness and childish ways of the former higher powers, and instead, enact rather wise and mature decisions. With a start, he realized that he may have had a hand in that decision. He thought back to a moment, a scant couple years ago when rebuilding hasn’t even started yet.

“Dad?” Ghost asked. They had just had their first molt, resting their now slightly bigger body against their twin sibling. Hollow was in bed, their head and body haven just gotten new fresh bandages. It had been only a bare few months after the death of the Radiance, and Ghost had had some time to sit and think about their situation.

Of course both of the void siblings were a mess after the final battle, and Mato had commandeered an empty home in Dirtmouth to care for them both. Herrah had awoken from her slumber and was there to care for Hornet, but she had Deepnest to restore. Hornet jumped back and forth between both homes, bringing honey from the Hive and silken bandages in the effort to bring Hollow back to some semblance of wellness.

“Yes, my child?” Mato had adopted Hollow instantly, the poor injured bug still was very much a child despite being the tallest bug they’ve ever seen. He coaxed Hollow into opening their mouth and letting him stick another spoonful of light broth inside. He patted them gently when they did, helping them get ready for the next spoonful.

“How did you learn to forgive Uncle Oro?” Ghost was staring at their new set of arms, clenching and unclenching their hands. They tripped over their new telepathy a few times, but they were able to be understood. Mato stayed steady enough to get another spoon of sustenance in his largest child, but was quite surprised by the question.

“That’s quite a question, Ghost. What suddenly brought this on?”

Ghost was silent for a few moments and Mato gave them time to get their thoughts together. Hollow tried a chirp of encouragement, but Mato tapped them on the snoot. No chirping, only soup for the moment. They harrumphed and took another spoonful, which earned them a nice rub to sooth the healing cracks in their face.

“Uncle Oro hurt you and Uncle Sheo, really bad.” Ghost started. “But now, you are all okay again. How did that happen? What do you do when someone hurts you, but you don’t want to be hurt by them anymore?”

Ah, there it was. No doubt this had something to do with the sibling’s awful, awful parents. He didn’t want to accidentally poison his child with his own bad memories, nor the awfulness of why the situation actually happened in the first place. Instead, he decided to be completely honest.

“Well, Sheo and I were hurt, yes. We took space for ourselves to sort out our feelings. By then, the infection was in full swing and we didn’t know how the other was doing. When you let us know that all three of us were still alive, that’s when we knew there was a chance.”

Ghost looked up, tilting their head backwards so they didn’t have to get up from where they where lounging. “A chance?”

“Yes, the only time a chance to fix something between someone is gone, is when they are gone themselves. When we realized that we were all still alive, I knew that a chance still existed to get my brothers back.”

Ghost nodded, listening closely. Hollow subtly curved their head to listen as well, and Mato suddenly found himself with the full undivided attention of two children. He would have to choose his words carefully

“So, a few weeks ago, we both went to see Oro, and we talked. We talked about how we hurt each other. We talked about how we were sorry. We talked about how we can improve ourselves and move on. In the end, we decided to give each other a chance again, at least for one last time. Obviously, Oro wanted to be back with us again, because we worked it all out. We missed each other a lot, so I found that we could forgive each other and start again.”

“Uncle Oro is still really grumpy though…” Ghost added as an after thought.

“Oro was always a grumpy little bastard, that hasn’t changed.” Mato laughed. “ What changed however, is that we realized what we all did to cause the problem in the first place, and apologized. Now it’s just letting time go by to heal the wounds and give everyone a fresh chance again.”

“That’s it? Just time and a chance?” Ghost tilted their head to the side, eye’s narrow as they did their best to grasp the concept. Hollow moved their head just enough to give their smaller sibling a nuzzle. Ghost sighed and shifted so that they could hug Hollow back with nuzzle of their own, melting into the cuddle pile.

“If you think they are worthy of a second chance, than yeah. If not, than don’t give them a third.” Mato stopped assaulting Hollow with soup for the moment, letting them have a bit of a break for a cuddle. He took the time to look over the bandaged socket where their left arm used to be. He’ll have to ask Sheo and Smith if they could do something about that. "It's up to you to even consider giving that chance. If you don't want to, nobody is going to blame you for that. It's your decision alone and nobody can force you to do otherwise." He waggled the spoon at Ghost to further get his point across, as well as a subtle unspoken 'I will beat anyone who tells you otherwise with this spoon'.

“Thanks, Father.” Ghost looked up, eyes shining with resolve. “I think I know what to do now.

“They are giving you a second chance.” Mato spoke aloud once he finished with his memory, startling the White Lady with the suddenness of his voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t..” She looked confused by it all, looking Mato up and down as though he suddenly went crazy.

“They are giving you a second chance to be in their life. Both theirs and Hollows.” Mato’s voice took on a hard edge again as he pointed to her. “They are deciding if you are going to hurt them again, as they are not going to give you a third chance.”

“You mean...they’d want me to be…” her eyes widened and glistened with moisture, speaking some delicate hope that still resided within her. Mato knew he could never understand her particular pain, nore did he feel like she even deserved to have that hope after all this time, but that was not his decision to make.

“I don’t think they want you as their mother.” Mato took no joy over crushing that bit of hope, but she needed to know the truth. “After all this time, I don’t think they can let you be that intimate with them, at least for a very long time. Of course I’m speaking of Ghost, not Hollow. But for Ghost, I would shoot for just being a friend, someone they can trust again. Maybe it can evolve into something else besides that, but who knows what the future can hold."

"It is clear that you do not like me, or approve of my presence here at all. So why tell me this?" She bent her head down to regard Mato as though searching for the punchline to a cruel joke.

"Because it's the truth, and yes, I don't like you one bit, but the ones Ghost choose to be in their life is not up to me. If they want to give you a chance along with Hollow, than so be it. It's their life, not mine. BUT..." He stopped slouching and pulled himself up to his full height. "If you hurt them again, either of them, I will make you regret that. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I do."

"Good, then we have nothing more to discuss." He turned on his heel and left, not even giving her a wayward glance as he left her behind. He could have dragged more answers from her for sure. Even if they only needed one vessel for the plan, they could have taking in the 'rejected' ones and cared for them. Was she even there when the selection was taken place? Did she also leave Ghost to fell back into the abyss, never to see light again for years, maybe decades? Too many questions, and he doubted he'd get satisfying answers to any of them. Perhaps for now, it was best to let it go. Ghost or Hollow will bring it up on their own time and he would do what he always did, be there when they needed it. He loved them, even if it was later in their lives than he wanted it to be.

He wished he could have been there from the beginning. How different would they have turned out if he could have scooped them up at their hatching and carried them away to raise and love? All of them, not just those two, every single cracked shell in the abyss belonged to an individual child. He didn't know how, but he figured he'd have enough love for them all if needed. Perhaps he was feeling jealous that she could have had that, but chose to throw it and her own children away instead.

Too many feeling and not enough answers. He needed to get some meditation done and sort himself out before Ghost came to find him again. It wouldn't do for them to see him angry and conflicted like he was. He marched along until he found a nice, quiet section of the gardens and sat. He folded his legs under himself and let his cloak fall around him, emptying his mind and falling deep into the calming waves of meditation. He let the feelings come and wash over him, letting himself experience them without becoming consumed. The memories and the experiences were neatly sorted as he pulled himself together where he'd be able to experience them again should he wish to. Soon, there was nothing but calm. Everything was in it's right place and Mato let himself drift away into the nothingness and soothe his heart.

He started back into reality when he felt a tug on his cloak. He instinctively looked down where he expected a tiny void creature to be tugging on his cloak, looking for hugs. When he didn't see them down there, he looked up to see his grown child tugging on his cloak, eyes curled up in amusement.

"Hey Dad," they said with a giggle. "Sorry to wake you, but I'm back."

"That you are." Mato replied with a 'smile' of his own, standing up to stretch. He must have been sitting for a while, as his legs began to buzz with pins and needles as he worked the numbness out. "How did it go?"

"Well. The larvae were moved with no more injuries. The Fools will have to fix their own coliseum, since it was their fault it got damaged in the first place." Ghost giggled again, something amusing must have happened, and no doubt they were saving it for dinner later.

"Let me guess, there's more too that?"

They nodded, vibrating slightly. "Yes, but I want Quirrel and Hollow to hear it too. They'll get a kick out of it and you'd spoil it if I told you now."

"Then let's not keep them waiting." Mato mock bowed. "After you, your majesty."

"Dadddd noooo." They waved their hands around, trying to get him to stand again. "That's embarrassing! Monomon doesn't do that!"

"She isn't allowed to bow because it gives her cover to get smoke bombs out of her veil without getting caught." He countered with a laugh.

Ghost just sighed dramatically and grabbed his hand, dragging him off towards the palace where dinner and company awaited. Mato found that he couldn't stop laughing, letting his child drag him around just for the fact that he could.

It was then he realized that he pitied the White Lady. All these little moments she willfully gave up, never to experience it for the foreseeable future. It struck him as very sad that she would give up such a thing, but he decided there was no use in trying to understand why.

After all, he would be too busy coming up with ways to spoil his own children, and that thought would consume most of his days, as It should be.

---

Heyo another request down!!! Next up will be SIBLING DAY!!!

Also antlion larvae are terrifying, but the fact that they have 'doodlebugs' as their nickname is strangely endearing.

I feel neutral about the white lady. Yes she willfully participated in the plan and no in no way innocent, but boy did she make herself suffer for it. Hence here, Ghost gave her a chance to just be who she was before, just god doing god things, without having to balance a kingdom. She just has to help clean up the mess she left her kids to deal with and can't run away when the going gets tough again. To be honest, I feel like she's a lot happier now to just have her nice little private cabin in the gardens with no royal responsibilities and the hope that one day she may have more than a professional relationship with Ghost and Hollow.

Hollow knows she is there, but is working through their own feelings before they decide on what to do about it. They love her so much but remembers the pain in being constantly rejected and treated as though they were already dead by her. It's complicated, but there are therapists in the kingdom now and that will help over time.

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plumoh · 3 years

Text

[SK8] at all times, at all sides

Rating: T

Word count: 7409

Summary: Kaoru is shaped by the choices he makes and the people surrounding him. And through the years, Kojirou was there in one way or another.

Note: AO3 link. This was posted a while after Kaoru’s birthday, as a character study of sorts, birthday by birthday. I make the assumption that in the present day, Kaoru and Kojirou are 27-28 years old.There is a brief mention of alcohol at age 20, and Kaoru is a bit drunk at age 26.

15.

Kaoru gets two additional piercings on his left ear on his fifteenth birthday.

The first one, at what is considered a normal place for an earring in the middle of the earlobe, was done as an impulsive act of brashness to show off to his friends at school at the beginning of the year. He likes the attention. The family name attached to him makes people gasp when they see him with holes in his ear, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t bring him some sort of satisfaction. It’s kind of ridiculous and entirely too stiff an attitude to be offended by some nails stuck into someone else’s skin, as if it changes who he fundamentally is. Besides, piercings are cool.

So Kaoru gets two additional piercings, a helix piercing and another one in the earlobe, and Kojirou whistles.

“You sure your parents won’t cut off your entire ear for that?” he asks, his gaze appraising Kaoru’s new look.

“I’ll live with only one ear, then,” Kaoru answers, shrugging. “What do you think? I look cool, right?”

Kaoru gestures to his ear, grinning and looking at Kojirou expectantly. He knows that he must be acting like a child who got permission to eat a second candy after dinner, but it’s his birthday and he feels he can be excited for what is, essentially, a new approach to his lifestyle. He paid for these piercings with his own pocket money (and money earned through foolish bets and challenges, and he’s thankful that most skaters are stupid).

Kojirou hums, his face pinched in intense concentration. Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“That’s a yes or no question, Kojirou.”

“Let me give you a complete review of your new fashion style, impatient bastard,” Kojirou says.

“I don’t need a complete review! They’re just piercings!”

Kojirou always takes forever when asked to give his opinion on any topic, be it about his younger brother’s latest baseball game or the best suited color for a piece of garment Kaoru’s mother has decided to wear for an important meeting. It’s utterly unnecessary and a waste of time—Kaoru isn’t asking Kojirou to write an essay about his piercings.

“Just answer the question,” Kaoru says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, if you like your piercings so much, maybe show them off more?” Kojirou sighs. “I don’t know, you have more hair than any human being is supposed to have. It hides the piercings.”

Kaoru snorts. “Complain to my mother about that.”

But Kaoru entertains the idea.

16.

Keeping his hair long is a simple matter of preference. There is no rule in his family stating that its members should have a specific length of hair, so why not? Very few boys and men have it this long, and Kojirou always asks him why he bothers taking care of such a useless physical feature when all it does is getting into his way when he skates. Kaoru admits he does have a point, but he likes his hair.

Kaoru is currently tying it into a ponytail, lazily skating on the sidewalk around their neighborhood. Kojirou is skating at his side eating an entire soda flavored Garigari-kun popsicle, shoving it into his mouth and crunching into the ice because he likes having brain freeze.

“Hey, it’s your birthday next week,” Kojirou announces, like it’s the most thrilling event of the week. “Did you plan something? Wanna go explore some new skating areas?”

Kaoru flips his hair over his shoulder and shrugs. Kojirou is looking at him curiously, almost intently, and that makes Kaoru raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing special, but it’s also on the same day as some renown calligrapher from Tokyo visiting our studio. So yeah.”

“All the way from Tokyo? That sounds important.”

“Maybe. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Simply thinking about all the formal procedures that will take place in his house and the fact he will have to be on his “best behavior, please, Kaoru” is pissing him off. He’s not interested in hearing about the works of this supposedly famous and talented calligrapher bestowing upon their modest family his knowledge and wise advice. Kaoru doesn’t even know why he still attends the calligraphy lessons when he’s pretty sure he’ll go into computer science or something. His parents are always on his case about maintaining his posture and improving his strokes every day, and at some point Kaoru started obeying to make their noisy demands stop. He doesn’t genuinely hate the art itself; he simply thinks that his time is better spent elsewhere. What does calligraphy have when computers can do much more fascinating stuff?

Kojirou is nibbling at the popsicle stick, eyeing him with that critical look he often gets when he considers throwing paper balls at Kaoru in class, or when he thinks that Kaoru needs a snack to calm down, like some fucking animal he’s trying to tame—Kaoru hates that somehow, food always works.

“You want to ditch?” Kojirou asks as neutrally as possible, but Kaoru hears the sympathy in his voice. Which is appreciated, but unnecessary.

“No, I was actually thinking of scandalizing my parents by cutting my hair and having it cropped short,” Kaoru says with a half-feral grin. “Like, strands of hair sticking everywhere and impossible to make it look presentable.”

Kojirou almost stumbles on his skateboard, even though it’s a straight line and he wasn’t even pushing with his feet on the concrete.

“What?! But you never shut up about your hair!”

“You fucking liar, I only ever say I like having it long!”

“Yeah, that still makes it stupid! Why would you cut your hair if you like it long?”

“Because hair grows again?”

“Not as fast as you’d think, if you even thought about it before blurting out you want to get a bowl cut.”

“Disheveled and rowdy haircut, not a bowl cut, you idiot!”

They make a turn at the corner of the street, expertly avoiding a kid walking her dog and dodging the woman carrying groceries behind her, not without getting scolded for skating in residential areas (or skating at all) but those are words that go in one ear and exit in the other. Kaoru smiles to himself and kicks into the ground to get more speed, jumps and flips his board in the air before landing on it again with minimal risk of smashing his face in the concrete. He lifts a fist in the air with a whooping cry.

“Oh hey, that was a good one!” he exclaims, giving Kojirou a radiant grin.

“You mastered this trick long ago, why are you so excited?” Kojirou grumbles.

“Because it felt nice, that’s all. Be happy about the small things in life, that’s what you keep saying.”

“Sometimes I feel you’re purposely throwing back my words at my face only when it’s convenient for you.”

“I always listen to you, even if it might come as a surprise.”

Kaoru laughs, spinning his board and continuing on a straight line, ahead of Kojirou. Today’s weather is pleasant and he can’t wait for the end of the school year at the end of the week to go skating all day. It will come with more calligraphy practice, but at least he will have time for his other hobbies too. And if he can’t focus on anything at home, he can still go to Kojirou’s place and bother him all day.

“Then don’t cut your hair!” Kojirou shouts, catching up to him.

The lines on Kojirou’s face are weird, all upset and a bit worried, and that’s not an expression Kaoru is used to see when they’re talking about haircuts, of all things. Maybe when they’re doing their geography homework or when they’ve spent one hour practicing tricks and got more bruises than actual results, but not hair.

“What’s up with you?” Kaoru asks, slowing down. “It’s just my hair. It’s a good prank.”

“You’re going to look like a bird’s nest for at least three months, you okay with that?” Kojirou retorts.

“That’s not the worst thing in existence. And if I recall, you told me last year I should show off my piercings more, so having short hair would effectively do that.”

Kojirou groans and drags a hand across his face, almost looking defeated.

“Just style it in a way that makes your piercings visible, then,” Kojirou adds. “You… have nice hair.”

Kaoru blinks. Kojirou looks straight ahead, his posture stiff, determined not to turn his head in Kaoru’s direction.

“I have nice hair,” Kaoru repeats.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to cut my hair because it looks nice?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the most honest compliment you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up, I’m never complimenting you ever again!”

Kojirou speeds up, but not before Kaoru catches a glimpse of his reddening ears. The situation is starting to make even less sense, but seeing Kojirou so flustered over nothing is piquing Kaoru’s interest and his lips stretch in a wide grin. Kaoru joins Kojirou in their less-than-recommended skating speed.

“Okay, but you’re being weird!” Kaoru shouts over the sound of their wheels scratching against the ground. “Was that an offer to style my hair?”

“I’m not talking to you,” Kojirou mutters.

“You’re the one who suggested it, you can’t drop the topic!”

It’s almost comical to see two teenagers loudly arguing about a pointless subject while skateboarding and avoiding any obstacles they come across, as if being on a board is the same as walking. Passersby shoot them quizzical looks and a lot of adults are clearly not approving their noise level.

They end up skating all the way to the playground near the elementary school of the neighborhood, where a few kids are playing while their parents are watching over them. There is a skating park farther away, but people are already using it and Kaoru doesn’t like skating with people not part of their crew unless he’s looking for a fight. So they keep skating around, at a lower speed because colliding with children won’t exactly look good on either of them.

“Fine, keep being stubborn, you asshole,” Kaoru grumbles. “I’ll get another piercing.”

Kojirou finally jerks his head towards Kaoru, his expression a lot less constipated and more curious. “On such a short notice?”

“I’ll find a way. And even if I can’t get it done before my birthday, it will still be infuriating for my parents.”

Kaoru taps at his lower lip, not missing the way Kojirou’s eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.

“I wanted to get a lip ring, anyway,” he says.

There is something simply enthralling in a lip ring—the light catches on it, and people are immediately in admiration when they see it. Not everyone has the guts to get one, after all.

Kojirou slowly nods, tearing his gaze away from Kaoru’s face.

“If you want,” he says. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“You’re so weird today.” Kaoru rolls his eyes.

“You’re the weird one, obsessed with piercings.”

“You just wish you could be as cool as me. Race you to my home!”

“Damn it Kaoru, stop cheating!”

Kaoru ignores Kojirou and launches himself at full speed to make his skateboard pivot and turn around, going back from the way they came. Kojirou is still yelling at him.

Kaoru doesn’t manage to get his lip pierced before his birthday, but he does sweep the left side of his hair behind his head and keep it in place with a hair clamp, leaving his earrings in plain sight. To the calligrapher’s credit, upon seeing who the supposed Sakurayashiki heir is, he makes only the vaguest noise of shock before getting into business. Kaoru smiles all throughout the visit.

17.

Kaoru’s seventeenth birthday remains one of the most special days of his life.

He got gifts, snacks and high-fives from various people whom he cares more or less about (the crew bought a cake but Kaoru only got a thin slice of it because they are greedy bastards), while Kojirou bought him a book on AI that was way too expensive even if he has a part-time job salary (Kaoru wrestled him to the ground when he recognized the book).

Adam takes them skating in a place they’ve never explored before.

It’s beautiful. Exciting, captivating and alluring, making them use all their senses to turn at the right time, to ride down a hill without losing control, and to feel the full path reverberated through their bodies in shock waves. Skateboarding is fun, but this is on another level entirely—it’s like sliding on the edge of a cliff, giving heart palpitations but also an intoxicating feeling of a game that needs to be beaten, whose ending is all worth these efforts.

The three of them are skating as if wings sprouted on their back, uncaring of the world outside of their little bubble of thrills. Kaoru watches in fascination as Adam seems to fly across the track, smooth in his skating and unconcerned with the bumpy road. The wind seems to be an inconsequential factor in his descent in the slope, moving along with it and never straying far from the road. It’s subjugating, it’s beautiful, it’s freedom.

“Watch where you’re skating, idiot!” Kojirou yells right next to him, startling Kaoru out of his reverie.

Kaoru crouches low and makes a sharp turn, avoiding a rock that would have sent him sprawling. He straightens and keeps going at a controlled pace, glaring at Kojirou.

“I know what I’m doing!” he grunts.

“You almost smacked that wall with your face,” Kojirou points out with a glare of his own. “Stop getting distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” Kaoru snaps back automatically.

But the look Kojirou is giving him is indescribable, so foreign on his face and even more so as it is directed at Kaoru. There is something brewing in the air and Kaoru doesn’t like it, doesn’t want a chasm opening between them because of a stupid argument, but he doesn’t even know what made Kojirou so irritable in the first place.

Adam is waiting for them at the end of the path, watching them arriving at a sullen pace with a raised eyebrow. Kaoru stops right in front of him and plasters a smile on his face, much more eager to talk about they’ve come here for.

“That’s an amazing place! Skating here is so fun, we can make a challenge out of a lot of things in this mountain.”

“Yes, the turns are different and there are many slopes that we need to be careful of,” Adam agrees, smiling. “I truly believe we can accomplish a lot, if we do it together. I want to create a special race here for skaters to push their limits.”

Adam looks at Kaoru, then at Kojirou—the glint of mischief and of confidence reflected in his eyes is the same as the one that pulls everyone in his orbit, making them give their all to become the best. It’s a look that Kaoru feels inextricably drawn to, enamored with the unbridled possibilities he imagines behind words that promise a paradise of freedom grander than anything they’ve ever known.

“You both have skills that will be useful to establish this race,” Adam continues. “People are following you and your skating is among the best. I said before that you guys were special, and I mean it.”

Kaoru does not preen, but the shivers that course through his body as Adam opens his heart are ones that feel pleasant, almost addictive. His grin splits his face in two.

“You can count on us, we’re going to create the best skating race in existence,” Kaoru assures. “Right, Kojirou?”

“Yeah, of course!”

Kojirou’s earnest tone is almost a relief—he’s clearly as excited about this race as them, and Kaoru would have been seriously worried if that wasn’t the case.

For the first time, the joyous expression on Adam’s face seems to be born out of sincerity plucked from the deepest corner of his heart. It suits him; it makes him look even more radiant than usual. Kaoru can’t look away.

“It’s decided, then,” Adam says. “The three of us, inaugurating the “S” race. Together.”

On that day, when Kaoru turned seventeen and his mind was filled with nothing but skateboarding, he thought that this is what belonging felt like.

18.

Sitting perfectly straight, legs tucked under him, Kaoru picks up a brush, dips it into ink he has carefully ground, presses it against the sheet of paper and splashes black trails all over it. The ink drips outside of the frame and stains the tatami floor of the study he hasn’t bothered to protect, littering everything in dark, angry marks that resemble the work of a child throwing a tantrum.

There is no word, no poem written on his paper. Half of the inkstick is grossly used up, its tip almost falling apart, like it wasn’t deemed worthy of being respected as one of the treasures of calligraphy. Kaoru is filling the paper with nothing but emptiness.

It’s not even rage moving his arm like a possessed demon. It would have been easier to deal with, if it was rage; handling it requires minimal effort, as he can mindlessly let his heart wreak havoc upon anything his hands come into contact with, or he can scream all the grievances he’s bottled up to clear the space occupied by unpleasant thoughts. Rage is physical, in and out, and Kaoru’s had years of practice getting rid of it.

But this is not rage that nudges him in the direction of destroying a perfectly good piece of paper with expensive ink and an even more expensive brush, tarnishing their quality and the noble use they are destined to. It’s cold and quiet resignation, trapping him in his own mind as he lets himself be selfish one last time and act out in childish anger.

Kaoru’s eighteenth birthday is spent alone, grieving his dream of ever cutting ties with family traditions. He hasn’t touched a skateboard in months and he hasn’t tinkered with his AI program in even longer. There was no point anyway—Kojirou has other things to focus on, and Adam left.

Kaoru was a fool to think he was strong and resolute enough to follow a path that is not written with the same deep ink as the one he’s used all his life.

20.

“You can legally drink now, congrats.”

“Great. I can sip my alcohol in the presence of guests and pretend I’m enjoying their company when all I want is getting drunk.”

“That’s not very professional, soon-to-be Sakurayashiki-sensei.”

“You’re one to talk, I bet you’re consuming way too many beers at those parties. Has gaining muscle mass made you lose brain cells?”

“Hey, you four-eyes, that was uncalled for!”

There is something moving behind Kojirou, a door opening and someone poking his head inside, and Kojirou turns his head to rattle off a few words in Italian before facing the camera again. Chin resting in his palm, Kaoru is watching with a raised eyebrow Kojirou’s roommate rummage through Kojirou’s dressing, before retreating back into the corridor.

“Does he make a habit to walk around your shared apartment half-naked?” Kaoru asks.

Kojirou laughs, waving his hand. “He was looking for a clean shirt, he forgot to do laundry yesterday. I told him he could borrow one of mine.”

“I’m surprised you still find shirts your size with the way your body’s taking the shape of a gorilla’s.”

“Just admit you’re jealous of my perfect muscles.”

Kojirou makes a show of flexing his bicep and Kaoru snorts.

“Yeah, I’m so jealous of that gorilla body that is unnecessarily big.” Kaoru deadpans.

“Believe it or not, it makes skating a lot more fun too,” Kojirou adds with a smile. “More power in the legs to do tricks.”

Kojirou looks...satisfied with the direction his life is taking. Kaoru is happy for him—studying abroad in culinary school and discovering a whole new culture seems to be the change of pace Kojirou needed. Sometimes Kaoru wishes he could also skate in the places full of pipes and curvy roads that Kojirou shows him, but he has to make do with the familiar tracks he’s skated on all his life.

“I upgraded Carla to calculate distances faster and to automatically record what she sees,” Kaoru says with a hint of smugness.

“Your AI having a girl’s name will never stop being weird,” Kojirou groans. “Why haven’t you chosen something normal like “Ghost Voice” or “Robotico”?”

“An AI is not a robot.” Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, already tired of having to repeat this for the umpteenth time. “Your Roomba is a robot. Carla recognizes many more things than the shape of your apartment.”

“Then program Carla to clean my apartment too.”

“Carla isn’t a vacuum cleaner, you dimwit!”

“That’s a big shame, maybe you should also create an AI cooking for you!”

Kaoru opens his mouth to reply something scathing, then snaps it shut. On the screen, Kojirou frowns.

“Don’t,” Kojirou warns.

“We have enough resources and data to program an AI that creates recipes from a list of ingredients,” Kaoru says anyway. “If we implement it into a robot, with the correct code and careful adjustments, then maybe it will be a decent cook.”

“If you start making a cook AI I don’t want to heart about it,” Kojirou mutters.

Kaoru rolls his eyes. “Do you think I have enough hours in a day to focus on another project? Carla already requires my full attention.”

There is no need for him to say that calligraphy practice is what he does most of the day, if he’s not attending courses on speech or on business. It’s his life now; he chose to become the next Sakurayashiki calligrapher and he can’t back down now. Not that he’s ever fully considered leaving calligraphy behind for one of his better, more interesting hobbies—and this was exactly the problem. He never untied his hands from the string tethering him to a brush.

“You always want to work on something, so I’m expecting anything from you when you’re bored,” Kojirou says with a smirk.

“Maybe my next project will make gorillas like you shut up.”

Kaoru is twenty years old, discovering every day new aspects of himself in a professional environment, but one thing that never changes is the comfort of simply existing as himself when he talks to Kojirou.

22.

Kaoru spends a couple of years simmering in feelings he doesn’t acknowledge.

He isn’t someone who takes the time to reflect on his own feelings, negative or positive. They simply happen and he decides on whether to act on them—which has been true since he was a child, throwing tantrums when he didn’t like the task he was asked to do, kicking someone he didn’t agree with as a teenager, and deflecting when answering journalists’ questions that would force him to look deep into his heart. He lives in the moment and tries very hard not to burden himself with useless thoughts and regrets he can’t act upon.

He doesn’t dwell more than necessary on his choice to inherit the family calligraphy studio, because it will lead to nothing productive. He has perhaps harbored ill feelings towards calligraphy in the past, but they’re not so visceral he can’t execute the job he’s been trained for since he could hold a brush. Sometimes he thinks he could have rejected everything he’s been taught and disappoint his family for the rest of his life, but he immediately chases the thought away and decides that suffering through a successful career of calligrapher appears to be a small sacrifice compared to the headaches that would have come with removing himself from the Sakurayashiki studio.

He’s a full grown adult, by society’s standards. He shed his sweaters for yukatas and took off his piercings with reluctance, feeling like he ripped off a part of himself that’s been with him forever to fit into a mold he’s accepted as his new normal. Those were remnants of his old, carefree life that he abandoned, and it’d be preposterous to wish for things to have gone differently.

At least he has his AI—a new spin to a traditional art that is resistant to change. Carla is efficient, impressive and shocks people into admiration; Kaoru has upgraded and improved the code as many times as it required, making her compatible with every device in his possession so that she could accompany him in all his tasks. Skating became a game of precision, detail and finesse, aiming for perfection beyond what the average mind would think of. Calligraphy is enhanced and magnified, the digital aspect adding beauty in an art that is almost exclusively done by hand. Incorporating technology in his otherwise boring job undoubtedly made his days easier and more fun.

Kaoru isn’t dissatisfied. He can do better, but he could have done worse. However, if there is one thing that makes him antsy it’s the realization that he’s seeing less of Kojirou with each passing day, and he would have never thought it would leave a growing ache in his chest every time he thinks about it.

They have their own lives to live. It’s part of growing up—and he hasn’t completely lost his best friend yet.

25.

They have been wandering the streets of Paris for exactly ten minutes and Kaoru is already starting to regret his decision.

“It’s not that hard to read a map,” he seethes, trying to grab Kojirou’s phone.

Kojirou lifts the device higher and turns his back on Kaoru, stubbornly keeping his eyes riveted on the screen.

“I’ve got this, stop distracting me,” Kojirou says.

“The metro station is right there, let’s just change itinerary, stupid gorilla!”

“You want to take the metro when we could explore the city on foot?”

“The probability of getting shitted on by pigeons is way too high for my liking.”

This gets an undignified snort from Kojirou, more amused than mocking though Kaoru knows not to assume when every one of his words can be thrown back at his face later on.

They do end up taking the metro. They can go anywhere in Paris by bus or metro, making it extremely convenient to find their way but it gets overwhelming really fast—the metro lines seem to be full of people at all hours of the day, according to Kaoru’s extensive research before their trip, and they are nothing like the monorail they have back in Okinawa. Most passengers are focused on their phones, while others are taking a quick nap, which is not that different from what they’re used to.

“It can’t be worse than the Tokyo rail lines,” Kaoru mutters as they’re being shaken by the train doing a particularly sharp and violent turn.

“You’ve never been to Tokyo,” Kojirou replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I did last year for a meeting.”

“And that single trip was enough for you to get the full experience of the infamous rush of Tokyo’s Yamanote line?”

“I wasn’t saying I used the Yamanote line, imbecile. All trains are crowded. I think you wouldn’t have been able to squeeze in with your gorilla body.”

“At least I’m not at risk of going blind when someone knocks off my glasses by pushing me around in a crowd!”

“I always carry a second pair of glasses with me to avoid this kind of incident!”

It’s probably a good thing that this line of metro makes the same level of noise as a tractor revved up at full power, because their arguing is by no means quiet and people are starting to stare at them. But as soon as Kaoru glances at them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t gawking. Typical.

March weather is terrible. Their trip lasts one week, and there is an equal number of sunny days and of cloudy days, with high probability of rain. It shouldn’t be normal to have a changing weather so unpredictable that it makes planning for their day a real pain in the ass. Kojirou is already complaining about the sun beginning to leave space for clouds at merely eleven in the morning, and Kaoru silently agrees with the sentiment.

The food is good, at least.

“Reminds me a bit of what restaurants looked like in Italy,” Kojirou says around a mouthful of beef. “Maybe I can draw inspiration from those recipes.”

“It’s not Italian cuisine,” Kaoru points out. “Unless you intend to make a mixed menu.”

“Of course not, but the flavors can be useful.”

Kojirou is examining his piece of vegetable like a scientist observing an experiment under a microscope, as if it could give him the secrets of its cooking time or the spices used for it. Kaoru lightly kicks him under the table, and Kojirou hisses.

“Stop being weird and eat your food.”

“Do you really have to hit me every time you want to make a point?”

“I’m not hitting that hard.”

The other way around is more likely to happen; Kaoru won’t ever admit it but he doubts that Kojirou feels more pain than Kaoru does when he hits him. Those muscles are ridiculous and entirely unnecessary, honestly.

They take pictures at the landmarks and get mad at the long lines and narrow their eyes at the price of various food and drinks they stumble upon. They’re not short on money, but drinking a cup of café au lait at twice the price of what they can find in regular coffee shops doesn’t leave a good taste in their mouth. Kojirou uses the knowledge from his time in Italy to make educated guesses on whether they’re paying something at an unreasonable price or not—he looks a bit too smug doing so but Kaoru lets it slide for once and allows him to play the role of the brain for this specific aspect of their trip. Kaoru can at least trust Kojirou’s judgment when money is concerned (even if his intuition can be skewed sometimes).

“It’s only because it’s your birthday trip that I’m putting up with your need to visit museums,” Kojirou says, waving at the multiple pamphlets they gathered after three days of sightseeing.

“Having some culture ingrained in your mind is nothing but beneficial for you,” Kaoru retorts evenly.

Kojirou rolls his eyes, clearly not interested in that conversation, and gets up from his bed of their hotel room. It’s past midnight but they’re still wide awake. Sharing one room would be awkward or embarrassing for a lot of people, but Kaoru has known Kojirou half his life and it would be ridiculous to feel self-conscious now, when they’ve seen each other in various states of undress and wakefulness. Perhaps the only complaint Kaoru will voice that he didn’t have when he was thirteen is that the older Kojirou gets, the louder his snoring is (as if the noise level grows with the wideness of his body).

“Hey, Kaoru.”

Kaoru looks up from tomorrow’s schedule displayed on his phone to come face to face with a giant box of pastries and Kojirou’s bright grin. Kojirou is holding the box one-handed, slightly bent forward, like he would a tray to present his dish to his most loyal customers.

“Happy birthday, four-eyes,” Kojirou says on a light tone.

“Must you call me names when you’re wishing me happy birthday?” Kaoru scoffs, but he eyes the pastries with unconcealed interest.

They went to a bakery in the afternoon for a snack, buying a croissant, a pain au chocolat and a pain aux raisins because they apparently lack self control when it comes to cheap baked goods—but for some reason Kaoru missed the moment Kojirou acquired this box of pastries.

“It’s past midnight,” Kaoru reminds him.

Kojirou shrugs. “We’re grown adults and on holiday, I don’t think it’s much of a problem.”

“There are six different pastries in this box.”

“Nobody’s saying we should eat all of them right now, moron. Save some of them for tomorrow.”

They end up eating three pasties, one half each, while arguing about the pros and cons of buying smaller portions of different sweets over getting an entire cake for a birthday, as well as the point of starting celebrating said birthday at midnight instead of simply waiting for morning. They’ve had these conversations before, at Kaoru’s or Kojirou’s birthday over the years, but it seems they never grow sick of repeating the same arguments even when the topic is stupid.

It’s like a well-oiled machine; pushing on one button always leads to the same result. Kaoru and Kojirou argue because this is what they’re used to do, a response at their lips even before they hear the end of the other’s sentence. What comes out of their mouths takes the shape of banter but Kaoru, even though he usually ignores it, notices how at ease he is in these moments.

Kojirou invited him for this trip even if he didn’t have to, and bought pastries to share at midnight like they’re holding a small party. His face is illuminated by his generosity and his big heart that finds a way to carve itself in his eyes.

“Let’s go skating tomorrow afternoon, it will be fun,” Kojirou suggests, mischief and plain desire to have fun glimmering in his gaze.

And Kaoru can’t say no.

They brought their boards, like they did when they traveled to Los Angeles. It might sound like a waste of space in their luggage, but nobody has a say in what they consider fun. Kaoru had to change Carla’s battery for her to fall under airport regulation, which was a hassle on short notice (Kojirou dropped a plane ticket on Kaoru’s lap a week before departure, and Kaoru shoved back money at him but it somehow ended back in his hands after a few minutes of jostling) but definitely worth it, because there’s no way he will skate with a lower quality board.

On March 27th, when Kaoru turns twenty-five years old, he almost resorts to a more physical solution to win petty squabbles against skaters in another country, a behavior he was prone to display when he was seventeen. But he’s an adult who is traveling for leisure and isn’t foolish enough to ruin the trip by punching someone when he can skate away and show off with a few tricks involving exact calculations and perfect angles, so this is what he does—after Kojirou, admittedly, forced him to remain calm, as though he was his impulse control when Kojirou is just as quick to rise to a challenge.

Maybe the difference is that Kojirou isn’t a cocky bastard like Kaoru is. Debatable, but Kaoru won’t deny that he loves the feeling of achieving something flashy or impressive. Getting into trouble for it is always worth it, especially if Kojirou is there to live it with him. It’s never the same without Kojirou—they might bicker and have more arguments then actual conversations, but Kojirou’s a warm presence enveloping him in a tight hug he can never quite shake off.

The trip to Paris isn’t half-bad, and it’s full of memories with the person he trusts the most.

26.

Kojirou is very, very still when Kaoru finally stops fighting with himself and leans his head on his shoulder, completely wasted after drinking too much wine at this event gathering too many important people to talk to and drink with. The taxi is silent and all he can hear is the screech of the wheels on the asphalt.

“Rest until we reach your home,” Kojirou says, something akin to laughter in his voice.

“Hm.”

Kaoru registers the words coming out of Kojirou’s mouth, and judges them acceptable before closing his eyes and letting himself be rocked by the car drive. In his drunken haze, when he called Kojirou to be picked up, he forgot Kojirou lent his car to his little brother; remembering such an essential detail would have saved them a lot of trouble, but Kojirou called a taxi and is now sitting with Kaoru in the backseat instead of going back to his own home. What an idiot.

Kojirou helps him into his apartment, grumbling as his elbows hit the walls and his feet get caught in stray shoes in the genkan that Kaoru eventually wanted to sort out and put away. They manage to get to the couch, and Kaoru collapses on it without grace and lets out a long groan, draping an arm over his eyes.

“I’m not drinking at this sort of event again,” he complains.

“That’s your fault for not limiting yourself,” Kojirou sounds unimpressed. “You always say you’ll stop drinking but you keep doing it.”

“Half a glass with each guest is customary. Beyond that is called showing off.”

“So you’re showing off, stupid four-eyes.”

“Shut up, gorilla. I have something to prove.”

Kojirou’s sigh is filled with such apparent exasperation that Kaoru immediately realizes how petty and ridiculous he just sounded.

“On the day of your birthday, to top it all,” Kojirou says. “Do you need babysitting?”

“You are not going to babysit me,” Kaoru snaps. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, and you’ll start bitching tomorrow morning because you forgot to drink water and take a shower.”

“I’m not that incompetent, you giant brainless idiot.”

Kojirou doesn’t deign responding to his insult and slides behind the kitchen counter. Kaoru drops his arm and watches him rummaging through the cabinets with too much confidence for someone who doesn’t live there. Kojirou comes back with a glass of water and two slices of bread that Kaoru usually eats in the morning when he’s too lazy to make breakfast.

“You probably didn’t eat much, since your robophile brain was wired on ingesting wine.”

“I just said I don’t need your help,” Kaoru mutters.

Kojirou ignores him and deposits the items on the coffee table. He then sits down next to Kaoru, causing Kaoru to shift further on his side of the couch because of his needlessly big body.

“Do you have to sit so close to me?” Kaoru grumbles, leaning forward to snatch the water and the bread, pretending that his world didn’t start spinning as he did so. He takes a few sips of the water.

“Your couch isn’t large enough.”

“It’s your body that’s not average size, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re suspiciously coherent for someone who says he’s drunk.”

Kaoru shrugs, foregoing manners as he speaks and munches on the bread at the same time. “My mind is clear, my thoughts aren’t confused in the least.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Kaoru looks at the time displayed on his TV box, sitting on the stand pushed against the opposite wall of where they’re sitting. He squints at the numbers, slightly blurry despite his glasses still resting on his nose. He has no idea what time it is.

“Eleven forty-seven,” Kaoru announces.

“No, it’s twelve forty-seven,” Kojirou snickers. “Finish that, take a shower and go to bed.”

“And you’re going to stay here and take up space in my apartment?”

“Well, if your event hadn’t run for so long, I would have spent some time with you anyway since it’s your birthday. So I might as well stay until you fall asleep.”

Several things get jumbled in his head at that moment, and Kaoru stares at Kojirou in disbelief. There’s something funny and warm happening in the pit of his stomach.

“You have nothing else to do,” Kaoru asks, or accuses—he doesn’t know how his voice comes across.

“Just go to sleep, Kaoru.”

Kojirou takes the empty glass from Kaoru’s hands and puts it on the table. He then tugs Kaoru upright, holding his wrists in a gentle and careful grip, as if Kaoru will break if he’s not handled in the most delicate manner. Half of the second slice of bread is lying abandoned in the plate, but Kaoru doesn’t particularly mind as he realizes, with strange clarity, that this isn’t unpleasant to be taken care of like this. Kojirou is smiling at him with his most genuine expression, and Kaoru has to look down to avoid his gaze, embarrassed and fulfilled and relieved all at once.

28.

It’s been a long time coming, Kaoru thinks as his fingers tangle in Kojirou’s hair and he brings him closer, always closer to him. The night is warm and too uncomfortable for a spring day, but the heat twisting his stomach is from something entirely separate. His lips meet Kojirou’s endlessly, like this act alone will make him absorb whatever Kojirou is willing to give to him for safekeeping. It’s the first time they’re kissing and yet it feels like they should have been doing this for years now, hiding under the shade of a tree or behind a rocky wall to share a private moment together, in a pocket of time that will burst only when they decide to drop all pretenses.

He knows it’s been a long time coming, because Kojirou is laughing against his lips, and when Kaoru cracks an eye open he sees how open and fond Kojirou’s face is. Kaoru immediately wants to close his eyes again and to stop noticing how luminous everything has become.

“We’re so dumb,” Kojirou says.

“You are stupid, for holding back all those years,” Kaoru retorts.

“Yeah, now it’s my fault for being considerate of your feelings towards me.”

“If you believed for one instant that I’d cut ties with you, then you’re more foolish than I thought you were.”

Kojirou still has hi arms wound around Kaoru’s back, and when he shrugs he presses Kaoru closer to himself. There is no anger and no regret in his eyes or his posture, as though nothing in the world would strip him of the bliss he’s currently being filled with. Kaoru finds himself drunk on the sight.

“I didn’t think that, no. I was just too scared of doing anything that will cause a shift in our relationship.”

The words sound strange, once Kaoru hears them spoken out loud. Kojirou is the one constant in his life that never changed, a shadow at his back and a light guiding him. They’ve both seen each other at their worst and their best, tending to bruises and squeezing a shoulder in comfort or riling each other up as part of their routine. Kojirou is an entity that exists at Karou’s side, full of familiarity and overflowing with kindness that doesn’t need to be voiced.

Kojirou is stupid for ever having hesitated or doubted the strength of their bond. But Kaoru is stupid, too, for simply taking what Kojirou was offering without ever giving back properly.

“We’re never having this conversation again,” Kaoru warns, tugging at Kojirou’s hair and pressing his forehead against his. “I trust you, Kojirou. I always have. This isn’t going to change.”

Kojirou is clinging to every one of his words, looking at Kaoru with the most enraptured expression he’s ever shown. Like this is a dream that cannot be real. Kaoru scowls.

“Don’t look so surprised, gorilla. That’s not a secret.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m simply enjoying that you’re saying it at all,” Kojirou laughs.

“You never say anything pleasant about me either.”

“You’re the one who barges into my restaurant and half the time demand dishes that aren’t even on the menu, and I still cook them! I’m being nice enough!”

“What else would you do in a restaurant, muscles for brain ape?”

“I don’t know, cook a dish I have the actual ingredients for?”

Kaoru’s lips are pulled upward despite everything, his heart as light as ever in Kojirou’s presence. The ease surrounding them remains the same, electric veil sealing them in their own brand of intimacy they wouldn’t trade for anything else.

It feels effortless, then, to switch to a less barbed attitude but still retaining playfulness. Kaoru brushes strands of hair out of Kojirou’s face, and Kojirou runs a thumb under Kaoru’s eye.

“It’s my birthday at the end of the week,” Kaoru whispers, locking eyes with Kojirou. “Take me somewhere nice.”

“Bossy as ever,” Kojirou sighs, though his voice sounds like contentment and bliss contained in a space called home.

Kaoru smiles.

#matchablossom #joecherry #matcha blossom #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #kaoru is like 'i know i have feelings but i'm making the decision of not seeing them'#i'm fascinated by his change from punk high schooler to stoic adult #i also have more thoughts about kaoru+calligraphy relationship that i'll eventually write down #when i have the time o(-(

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