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avaantares · 4 years

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FFVII:REMAKE - A Review

So I beat the game two weeks ago and started writing down my thoughts while they were fresh in my mind, but I didn’t post anything then because my one IRL friend who is also playing it hadn’t finished it yet and I didn’t want to risk posting anything spoiler-y. But the extra time has allowed me to play through the game again on Hard difficulty, which has allowed me to reconsider and elaborate on some of my thoughts. And frankly at this point I just need to dump my Very Big Opinions somewhere, so... here ya go.

I discuss visuals, gameplay, character and story below. I’ve tried to keep spoilers minimal up front, though obviously if you want to go into the game totally cold, don’t read this. All major spoilers are clearly tagged. All of it is below a cut to spare your dash.

Also, there are pretty pictures, because why not?

First, my background with this franchise: I played through the original FFVII multiple times; I’ve watched and rewatched Advent Children and Last Order, played Crisis Core, gave up on Dirge of Cerberus despite my deep love for Vincent Valentine (sorry, VV, but your game was just a mess), and lamented that Before Crisis wasn’t available in my country. I even played (and own!) Ehrgeiz, the obscure fighting game that featured the main cast. (Still bitter that they didn’t keep Miki Shinichirou as the voice of Sephiroth. He’s one of my faves.)

^ Ehrgeiz, a mediocre fighting game that forever endeared itself to me by including Turks!Vincent Valentine as a playable character. 💖

In short, I’ve been waiting for this game for DECADES.

So. Here we go. My thoughts on Final Fantasy VII: REMAKE.

The good:

The character models are very pretty. With individual pores, threads and scuffs visible, they’re so detailed that it’s almost impossible to reconcile them with the mouthless sprites from the original game – even more so than Advent Children (and dear goodness, that was over a decade ago now, wasn’t it?). Still, they’ve kept the costume details and absurd proportions largely intact (Barret’s fists are literally larger than Tifa’s entire head, yet somehow it works visually), so it’s not too much of a departure from the familiar.

They’ve kept the aesthetic. I was afraid the game would try to update the iconic world of Midgar, but by and large, it’s full of visually-arresting designs that preserve the gritty-industrial look and feel of the original.

Japanese version is included. BLESS YOU, Square Enix, for including the Japanese voices and character animations. Not only is it impossible for me to hear Cloud in anything other than Sakurai Takahiro’s voice, but the Japanese script is a bit nicer to the characters. I’m not really keen on the English dub… but more on that below.

They fixed the spelling of Aerith’s name. This may seem like a minor point, but considering it’s been 20 years and I’m still bitter that Devil May Cry still hasn’t corrected “Nelo Angelo,” it’s a small victory.

Improved combat. Admittedly, I wasn’t sold on the new combat system at first, but after playing through the game twice, I’ve come to really like it. It has a few rough edges and can get chaotic in some battles, but it does a decent job of blending the feel of an action game with turn-based strategy. The fact that you can switch to a more traditional turn-based system if you prefer is also nice. (I haven’t tried Classic mode yet, though.)

Weapon customization. The Skill Points system allows you to upgrade your loadout instead of acquiring new gear. The tutorial was somewhat lacking (I didn’t quite figure out the multiple-core-unlock thing right away), but I appreciated the ability to add materia slots or stat buffs rather than just cycling through a dozen swords that Cloud apparently keeps in his back pocket.

Background dialogue management. On the whole, the conversations as you run through town enhance the story without slogging down the gameplay; you don’t have to stop and talk to every single resident, because snatches of their conversation reach you (and your on-screen chatlog) as you pass. You can stop and listen for more detail if you want, or you can just keep moving. The extra worldbuilding is really nice.

The music. The orchestrated versions of the original themes are excellent (and some of those music cues gave me goosebumps… Did I spend way too many hours immersed in the original game? Probably). I can take or leave some of the collectible jukebox tunes, but the background music in general is good. (But did I earn that Disc Jockey trophy? Yes, yes I did.)

Supporting character development. Jessie, Biggs and Wedge actually have characters! And personalities! Clichéd ones, admittedly, but it’s an improvement over the original game killing them all off within the first few minutes. The game also does justice to the Turks, and actually surprised me with how much depth of character it gave Reno and Rude in particular (perhaps setting them up for a mini redemption arc so players forgive them for dropping a plate on tens of thousands of slum residents?). Their moments of concern for each other and (brief) crises of conscience made them more than the stock villains they were in the original game, more in line with their temporarily good-aligned characters in Advent Children. Tseng, likewise, was on point. However, I do have to qualify all this with one irate question: Where the heck is Elena?! Seems like the female characters are always getting left out… /sigh/

Improved plot devices. REMAKE cleans up some of the more questionable and outdated content from the original. As you likely already know from the demo, the new game somewhat exonerates the protagonists by having Shinra blow up their own mako reactor to turn public opinion against AVALANCHE (possibly because someone finally realized that it’s hard to sympathize with characters who are willing to melt down an entire reactor and kill a bunch of innocent civilians). AVALANCHE are still eco-terrorists, but they’re… terrorists with a conscience? I dunno, at least they feel bad when people die now… Likewise, the weird and uncomfortable Honey Bee Inn segment of the original game has been reborn as an amazing dance extravaganza. Less voyeurism/prostitution, more Vegas floor show (complete with minigame choreography) and makeover. The whole Don Corneo scenario is still hella creepy, but frankly, there’s nothing that can fix that.

Series references. Fans of the original will appreciate all the inside jokes and direct references to the original game and other franchise entries: One-off comments about Chocobo racing; a broken console in Wall Market that shoots at you; a framed picture of the original 32-bit Seventh Heaven; ads for Banora apple juice; side mentions of characters and plot devices from spinoff games; PHS communication… The game definitely pays tribute to its history. They even recreate the original loading screen and several of Cloud’s iconic poses/animations throughout the game:

The neutral:

Recycled gags. Look, I know Advent Children was the ultimate evolution of FFVII for a while, and admittedly, it did some things very well. The running gag with Rude’s sunglasses and the victory fanfare being used as a ringtone are some of the best moments in the film, in part because they were so unexpected. But as much as I enjoyed the repeated nods to AC in this game, they felt a little desperate, like there were no new jokes to insert so they had to double down on the ones they’d used the last time this franchise had a renaissance. (See Rude’s broken sunglasses, below.) And fitting into the series as a whole, it feels a little weird. Why is Rude’s ringtone the same as the clones’ from Advent Children? Does Barret really need to sing the victory fanfare over and over when he defeats an enemy? Is there supposed to be some history behind that song that was left out of the worldbuilding? It just feels too meta.

Arbitrary localization of names. I don’t really grasp why it was necessary to rename so many items and characters for the English market. Some changes make sense for localization (e.g. Whack-a-Box certainly works better for an American audience than Crash Box), but others seem arbitrary, like changing Aniyan Kunyan to Andrea Rhodea or Mugi to Oates (a play on the meaning of his name in Japanese, but... does it matter?). And then… well, I don’t want to spoil A Major Plot Element, but there’s another thing that changes names from one English word (in the Japanese track) to a different English word. Why? No idea. It doesn’t affect gameplay, and it’s not really a problem, but listening to the Japanese track, I found it jarring to have the subtitles contradict what I was hearing.

Underutilized characters. While the whole gamut of original FFVII characters make appearances, several of them aren’t used to full effect, or aren’t used at all to advance the story. Rufus Shinra’s bossfight is a decent challenge, but while his character was vital to both the original FFVII and Advent Children, his presence in this game is little more than a cameo. His fight could be cut or swapped out with any other boss, and it would have zero effect on the plot. Similarly, while Hojo is a key player in the full story (which this game doesn’t cover, since it’s only a fraction of the original timeline), he’s largely wasted here, except as a means of extending play time by making you wander through corridors and fight a bunch of monsters for “research.” (I have no idea what his motivation is; you’d think he’d be more interested in recapturing Aerith or Cloud, but instead he just... opens an elevator and lets them leave? after they beat up some midbosses.) Reeve Tuesti actually has a solid presence in this game, but since he’s ONLY ever active as himself, there’s no explanation for the random Cait Sith cameo in one scene (players new to the franchise probably have no idea why a random cartoon cat showed up for a few seconds and was never mentioned again). Obviously the plot arcs have to change when the game is covering only a few days’ time in a much longer story, and the major players need to be introduced at some point if they’re going to feature in later games in the series, but from a narrative standpoint, there are an awful lot of superfluous characters doing things for no reason in this installment.

The bad:

THE PADDING. Dear goodness, there is so much padding to make this a standalone game instead of just the first chapter of a longer adventure. I got really, really sick of running literally from one end of the map to the other on side quests – and that’s me, an avowed trophy hunter who spends hours scouring dark corners for collectible items in other games, saying that. So much of this game felt like time fill that didn’t really advance the story. It’s also full of unnecessary new characters with improbable Squeenix hair, like Roche the super-annoying motorcycle SOLDIER (below), or Leslie, Don Corneo’s doorman who somehow merits his own backstory and side quest. (Though in fairness, every FFVII sequel has added superfluous characters, with Crisis Core possibly being the worst offender.) But it just felt really drawn-out and bloated for a game of this generation. If this game had been as compact and tightly-written as the other games I typically play, it probably only would have taken me 15 hours to beat instead of 50. (I don’t actually know how many hours I spent on it the first time through, as I didn’t check the play clock before restarting on Hard difficulty. I do know it took me over 110 hours total to complete the game on both modes, though much of the second run was spent dying repeatedly on a handful of nasty fights. Hard mode removes items and MP replenishment, and if you run out of MP at any point during a chapter, you’re going to die. A lot.)

The pacing. Related to the above... the Midgar portion of the original game was just the setup for a larger story. It wasn’t meant to have its own complete dramatic arc so much as to introduce you to the world and the major players. Consequently, there are some really odd beats in this story, as well as a total lack of urgency in your mission. There are no natural places to slot in the side quests and minigames, so they’re shoehorned awkwardly between plot sequences. “Quick, our friend is in mortal peril and needs our help!” "Okay, cool, we’ll go rescue her after we spend ten hours running around town doing random errands for townspeople and playing games with the local kids.” Uh... what?

The graphics just aren’t as good as they should be. While the character models are gorgeous, there are a lot of low-res background textures and weird polygons that don’t quite match up with other components. Most egregious are the Shinra logos, which frequently get close-ups as part of the fixed camera work and, frankly, look like lossy JPEGs. (See image below, screencapped from a PS4 Pro. Those jagged edges on the logo are present throughout the entire game.) There are weird clipping errors and artifacted images and reflective surfaces that don’t reflect, making the game look more like something from the PS3 era than a 4K late-gen PS4 game. (And it’s not that we don’t have the technology: Uncharted 4 was released back in 2016, and the rendering of its vast world was twice as pretty. Devil May Cry 5, released in early 2019, has far more realistic textures and object interaction. Granted, those are different types of games with fewer NPCs to render, but I feel like there’s no excuse for a game this big to look this mediocre.)

The HUD could be better. The lower-corners concept is okay, though it took me a while to train my eyes to travel between both sides of the screen and track the fight action. But for a long time, I didn’t even notice the commands in the upper left corner of the screen, and after playing through the game twice I still have no idea what they say because I couldn’t focus on the tiny text long enough to read them while trying not to die in combat. (I just looked it up; apparently they’re combat control shortcuts? Huh, that would have been useful to know.) It wasn’t until my second time through that I realized there even WERE separate controls on screen during the motorcycle minigames; I had resorted to panicked button mashing to figure it out the first time through because there was no tutorial (you’re just dropped into the action) and, having ignored the small text for the previous hundred combats, I had no reason to look for on-screen instructions there. Not that it would have helped, since on many backgrounds the text in the upper left is really difficult to read (see below). It’s worth noting that I have better than 20/20 vision and played this game on a large TV screen and still had trouble reading some things; on a smaller TV, or for someone with less acute vision (like my sister, who is blind in one eye), I think even the basic menu controls would be difficult to see. While you can resize the font for subtitles, my cursory glance through the menu did not uncover an option to increase the size of the HUD.

Inter-fight menu mechanics. Specifically, the inability to save (or save loadout settings) between fights in a multi-part sequence. There are several back-to-back fights in which it is necessary to switch characters or change gear between bosses. The game treats them as one continuous fight, though it does allows you to access the equipment menu by holding square during key cutscenes. Which is good, if you only have one of a particular materia or accessory that you need to switch between characters, and in most cases when you die the game lets you restart just before your current fight instead of restarting the whole sequence -- also good, since some multi-stage bosses can easily take 20-30 minutes to beat, and if several of those are strung together in sequence, you’re in for a long play session to get past them. But since it’s treated as one fight, you can’t save between bosses (more than once, I had to leave my PS4 running in Rest Mode overnight and just hoped we didn’t have a power glitch), and if you happen to get killed and need to restart the fight, your loadouts reset. Which means if you’re, say, fighting the end boss on Hard difficulty and get killed in the first two minutes -- which happened to me a lot -- by the time you restart the fight, sit through the unskippable cutscene, access the menu and rearrange all the materia and accessories you need, you’re spending five or six minutes gearing up for two minutes of play, and then doing that over and over again every time you die. It gets really old.

The English dub script. *deep breath* Okay, look, I know I can be a bit elitist about translations, but I really do not like the English adaptation of this game. It makes Cloud come across as less socially-awkward and far more of a deliberate jerk, Aerith is mouthy and even swears (which is not accurate to her original character), and it downplays some of the symbolism that’s more obvious in the Japanese script. One quick example: When Aerith gives Cloud a flower, she says (in Japanese), “In the language of flowers, this means ‘reunion.’” It’s subbed/dubbed in English, “Lovers used to give these when they were reunited.” That’s a subtle difference, but since the concept of “reunion” is a freakin’ huge part of the FFVII plot, and since Sephiroth was on screen literally seconds before that line is delivered, my brain automatically went, “OMG REUNION!!!” while I’m guessing people listening in English only picked up on the romantic subtext. It’s a pretty minor thing, and of course translation is always a complex balancing act between literal meaning and local market understanding, but the English version just seemed to me to have a different vibe overall. (Unfortunately, the English subtitles are the same as the dub, so unless you can understand the Japanese audio you’re kind of stuck with that dialogue.)

[WARNING: SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT]

- …And my #1 complaint about Final Fantasy VII: REMAKE is…

…it’s not actually a remake.

Sure, the game starts out the same way and covers a lot of the same events, but fundamentally, it’s a sequel, not a retelling. It’s evident from Cloud’s future-oriented visions throughout the game that something else is going on, and the ending MAKES NO SENSE if you don’t already know the story. Heck, even the rest of the game doesn’t really make sense if you don’t know the story -- Sephiroth’s presence is never explained; Zack isn’t even introduced, just shows up randomly at the end; Cloud’s flashbacks of Tifa and her dead father in Nibelheim are left as a complete mystery (and since she evidently remembers the burning of her town, judging by her dialogue outside Aerith’s house, why doesn’t she even react when Sephiroth shows up?).

The core elements of the plot – the Feelers (Whispers) preserving a specific fate; the three entities from the future (whose weapon types just happen to correspond to certain named characters) defending their timeline; the return of post-Advent Children Sephiroth (the only time we’ve seen him in human form with one black wing), who has inhabited the Lifestream since his death and promised that he would never truly disappear, who in the end appeals to Cloud directly for an alliance rather than attempting to control him, because he knows now that Cloud is strong enough to defy the Reunion instinct; the change in the outcome of story events in which Biggs (and, unconfirmed as to which timeline he’s actually in, but quite possibly Zack) now survives his intended death -- all point toward Sephiroth trying to manipulate destiny into an alternate outcome in which he is victorious, and using this naive version of Cloud to facilitate it. That means this game is taking place in an alternate or splinter universe, created at some point after the events of the original Final Fantasy VII, and possibly even after the events of Advent Children.

All of that is fine from an overall continuing-story perspective – it opens up a lot of interesting possibilities, like the fact that Aerith might survive now that Cloud has seen prescient flashes of her death (among other events), and there are opportunities for more story twists and changes from what players might expect. But touting this as a remake of the original game has the potential to confuse players who are new to the franchise. FFVII was groundbreaking back in 1997, and it defined JRPGs for an entire generation of Western gamers. But that was more than two decades ago, and a lot of current gamers weren’t even born then, so while they’ve probably heard of the classic game, they aren’t necessarily steeped in its lore. FFVII:R relies heavily on prior knowledge of the series to carry its twist ending, so it largely fails as a standalone game.

Also, speaking as a longtime fan of the franchise… I honestly found the ending rather lackluster. It was a twist, of sorts, but not the sort of shocking, mind-bending revelation that made the first game so iconic. Granted, it’s hard to follow an act like revealing that your protagonist’s entire identity is a lie, not to mention killing off one of your main characters a third of the way into the story! But when the surprise ending is just, Surprise! We’re going to change things up a bit this time around so you aren’t entirely sure what’s coming! Also, here’s a gratuitous Sephiroth fight because everyone expects that, even though it doesn’t serve the main story at all nor resolve any conflicts previously established within this game! it smacks of Different for the sake of Being Different, not for the sake of a really amazing storyline they’re hiding up their sleeve. It’s a bit of a let-down, and I find that I... just... don’t really care that much. Which, for someone who’s been a fan of the series for nearly a quarter of a century, means there’s a Big Freaking Problem somewhere. If you’re not keeping the attention of your die-hard fans, how do you hope to build a fanbase of players new to the franchise?

Given the pacing and story issues inherent in this game, I’m not convinced that the following game(s) in the franchise are going to be structured any better. Considering the amount of pure side-quest padding they did in Midgar, I have no idea how they’ll maintain that same tone on something the scale of the World Map portion of the original game, unless they just completely eliminate things like Fort Condor and the submarine and the spaceship side quests. I have a feeling the Gold Saucer is going to be reduced to a Jessie flashback, a Chocobo race (probably to win a key item), and a battle arena run like the coliseum in Wall Market in this game. If they include all the story elements and side characters from the original, this series is going to be a dozen games long.

Still, on the whole this game was enjoyable, and I’m glad I played it. It wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, but they haven’t completely killed off my interest, so I’ll probably continue with the series whenever the next game comes out. Though I’m not really sure if the higher-priced edition I pre-ordered was worth the extra money, so I may wait and see how the next game is shaping up before deciding which version to get...

But if they don’t give me a really pretty (playable) Vincent Valentine in the next installment, I may riot. I do have priorities.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii: remake #ff7:r #final fantasy 7: remake #ff7 remake #video games #long post #review

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fabricatedsoldier · 4 years

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MATERIA MEMORIES | Part 4 ( Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 )

♫: If You Want Love by NF

☆ ━━━ When Cloud was a boy, he used to get into fights. The sort that left him scratched up and bruised, his mother dabbing cotton at a bleeding, puffy lip. He used to blame the other children, defiant that he had anything to do with the scratches. He’d insist they picked on him, and maybe they did at times, but that’s only because...

He provoked them nearly all the time.

He’d saunter around the village and he’d push down the bigger boys, spit at them and blame them for his hurt, for his loneliness he didn’t know what to do with. There was always that flicker of confusion in their eyes--who was this kid practically bleeding open for everyone to see?--and then the anger, bursting and quick to match Cloud’s rage. And then they’d roil over the ground until Cloud limped home in dejected defeat.

It was their fault, Cloud remembered insisting, on and on.

I’m innocent.

Cloud thinks this even now as he stands before the North Crater, right on the craggy lip where it feels engulfing, where if the wind blew a little harder he could topple in that hole forever, endlessly.

The cold is so deep that it slices into his bones, makes his joints ache in a profound way that is impossible to ignore. He feels tired and he knows he should have rested ages ago... but he can’t stop, his feet are walking on coals and he’s trying to outrun ghosts. He’s flickering, his soul caught on fire. How can anyone expect him to stop now?

He almost doesn’t feel the cold, not the biting wind, he just feels... numb.

He’s a man obsessed. Chasing down the past with a passion that is unsettling, he’s shaking open graves--

He can’t stop.

Cloud begins to descend into the darkness.

Its been years since he was last here--when he was a silly toy soldier on his quest to save the world. It sounded like a demented fairytale that went all wrong.

Even so he remembers every rocky path, every jut in the rock that allows him to drop deeper into the shadows. He navigates the maze so easily it’s laughable--he knows the path so well because he sees it often in his nightmares, threading and weaving him to his destiny to die before Sephiroth...

The place is desolate of fiends, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Cloud. There’s only gray rock walls slick with snow or water, dripsdrips echoing beyond, a hush whispering through the cave system as he splashes through stray puddles on his way.

The White Materia is heavy in his pocket. His hand strays to it after any stretched hop or bounce along the rocks, checking that the lump of his sins is still there, still glowing and pulsing close.

This feels like the end, just like last time...

The tension is heavy on the Mako dense air that has the same rusty tang as metal or blood.

And he weaves and goes on, alone, the darkness seeping and deeper with every step...

He enters the Northern Cave.

His heart begins to hammer, his Mako bright eyes discerning the red rocks of the impossibly high ceiling that is lost to shadows, his gaze straying to the pulsing center, throbbing like a broken heart with a teal glow.

He thought there would be some scar here from that last, fateful battle. That there would be a marker for his pain, for all he lost then. But here it remains untouched, just as it was years ago, a mocking reminder that this world doesn’t always revolve around him.

Cloud takes the White Materia from his pocket and holds it in his hand. If he gives this offering to the heart of the Planet, surely then it has all the power to cleanse itself--

He takes three clomping steps toward the center...

Clump... clump... clump...

And Sephiroth appears before it--Cloud stumbles back, a hand immediately reaching for the hilt of his sword--

Then he realizes in a beat... this isn’t the Sephiroth he knows with pale, ghostly skin and gleaming teal eyes all but drenched in Mako...

This is a monster.

It has the shape of the general and the silvery hair, though it has a faint purple tinge. The face shape is right and the armor is familiar, though a creeping darkness like vines cling to Sephiroth’s crevices, stretching sickeningly whenever he moves.

But the features are wrong--the skin is silvery, the eyes empty, wide sockets full of shadowy tendrils that ooze from the hollow depths. The face is cracked like porcelain, the lips torn and bits missing, and Cloud wants to retch at this creature--he wants to run--

“The Reunion is not over,” the monster says with a gurgling, rusty voice.

And for the first time since he began this senseless journey, he wonders if he’s gone too far. The consequences flinch and shiver before him, this mangled corpse shuffles closer on legs that seem new to the creature...

Something here is unraveling and Cloud is pulling the string.

What have I done...?

His sword slides with a hiss from its sheath and he holds it in shaky hands.

And he clicks Aerith’s White Materia in an empty slot close to the hilt. It glows brightly within the gloom, piercing with green and syrupy opal.

“Maybe you just don’t know how to use it,” he remembers telling her once in the church.

She grinned at him then, laughed it off.

But he feels the power of this Materia--feels it sizzling in his bones.

“I have unfinished business, but it has nothing to do with a reunion,” Cloud spits out, trying to focus on the beast shambling around like a zombie, lurching and slobbering darkness out of its broken throat and ribs.

“You cannot change Fate--it’s too late,” the broken doll burbles at him, choking over the clumps of darkness fighting from its fractured teeth.

With shaking fingers the creature raises a leather-adorned hand and the Masamune appears with its incredible thin length, nearly gleaming teal from the Mako all around.

At the sight of that sword, Cloud’s heart hammers on, thudding so loudly that his rushing blood and the shivering of his bones is all he can hear--and the slow lurch of the fallen soldier before him dragging its boots through the rocks...

Cloud takes one breath and raises his sword, rushing across the tumultuous battleground and leaping through the air, sword held above him to come crashing down--

He sees the doll give a speculative, sad glance and then--

There in midair, something pierces Cloud right through his stomach, and he looks down--

All he can see at first is the crimson spatter of blood bubbling from his middle and dripping loudly onto the cave floor. Then he notices the tentacle of darkness implanted through his skin, sticking right through his back--

Cloud’s vision quickly goes murky--and he wonders how this happened, how it came to this terrifying moment where reality begins melting, blending in with the horrors of his mind...

I’ve been so... stupid...

He chuckles then, shock clinging to him abruptly, rattling the cobwebs in his brain--

He manages, blindly, to cling to his sword. It still remains in his sweaty, clammy grasp. Of course he would hold it even now, even when the end swims around his sight, swarms it with darkness and murk...

“This is the end,” the fragmented Sephiroth says lowly, a little mournfully.

Cloud stretches out a hand, gasping and feeling that terrible darkness swarming inside him, and he sees his own blood spattered on his pale skin...

And he takes shaking fingers and touches the White Materia before he passes out.

He feels his body plummet from the air and crash onto the rocks, a few snaps at the sudden collision, a blonde rag-doll left abandoned, right on the edge of the world, alone...

His sword clatters out of his reach beside him, the metal pinging at it skirts away. And the sockets, three in all, are suddenly empty...

#✦┇ headcanon #{ no one: wow magic ramble forever about ur own scenario!! }#{ me: gotchu fam *has 4 parts* }#{ this has 4 parts what am i doing }#{ im so sorry dash }#{ i cant control myself u see }#{ this is all rambly rambles and i deeply apologize }#{ i just keep this crap going i dont kno why omg }

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cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years

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Come Into the Water (9/15)

After dinner and a shower in which Sarah wraps her hand in a sandwich bag to protect her bandages, she goes back down to the beach, wary of the pod but hoping again to see Ava, although she doubts she will. The high tide has turned the tide pools into simply a rugged landscape under the water, one which she is all too familiar with navigating as she wades under the stars in hopes of something familiar returning to her. She’s careful to keep her hand dry, but the rest of her quickly soaks and she contemplates getting a bathing suit at some point. It’s probably better than soaking all her clothes in seawater and getting sand in everything. Even just a dedicated pair of boxers would be better at this point.

But her clothes weigh her down as she stands in the tidepools, feet in the algae, water lapping at the backside of her knees in a way that implies intimacy, almost; it makes her think of fluttering kisses, tender moments, a togetherness that she’s never fully been able to explore because her only experience with romance outside of Ava, if that counts, is a professor who dimmed the lights and took advantage, and that’s probably not romance either. Romance isn’t looking anywhere but at pictures of a daughter Sarah’s age, maybe a little older, as she loses the last of her clinging threads of tenacity.

She shakes her head rapidly, as though that will clear the thoughts from her mind, free her from her past. If it was so easy, she wouldn’t be in this town in the first place, but rather, still at school with her head buried in a textbook. In another universe, that’s what she’s probably doing. The summer has faded, and as such, she’d be starting her third year of med school. She’d be living off campus in an apartment with a roommate or two, walking to school in the mornings even when the cold Chicago weather bites at any exposed skin unprotected by her layers of coats and hats and scarves. It made her feel alive, in the past. Now she craves warmth more than she knew to be possible before.

The stars begin to poke out from the velvet night above her, and the longer she stands there, the less she sees. Ava isn’t here. Not having seen her since before nearly drowning, she wonders if perhaps she imagined her in the first place, as well as the other mermaids, and everyone is playing along to be polite. But she has the bite on her hand as proof, the first time she’s had to worry about bandages in a while as her arm has gotten around to healing and, for the most part, she’d been leaving it alone before all this. The raw skin attests that she may need a barrier to protect her from her own coping mechanisms.

The waves get a little higher, a little choppier, and slap her shins and the rocks with ferocity as the moon itself rises. She looks because she can’t help herself, and prays that by some miracle, Ava will just show up. Just arrive and make it all better. But Dr. Riley has been saying a lot about not putting all her self worth and happiness in the hands of one person. This could just be karma. Sarah laughs bitterly for no one to hear and imagines drowning all over again. It wasn’t fun, but maybe it would be simple.

As soon as she has the thought, Sarah scolds herself. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. In spite of a recent setback, she’s been doing better. There’s no reason to just throw it all away.

Water keeps rushing at her, tugging at her, and she sits on one of the walls of the tidepools to just ride out the higher sprays of water without thoroughly exhausting herself. For what feels like an hour in the darkness peppered only by light dashes of light from the moon and stars, she sits there and wonders when this crosses the line and becomes nothing short of pathetic.

Just as she’s about to give in, give up, there’s a familiar flash in the shallows and a head rises from beneath the ripples. Blonde hair gone silver in the dim light, a pale face, lips Sarah wants nothing more than to kiss all over again. There are a million words waiting to come out, but she voices none of them. Instead, she slips off the rock where she has taken refuge and swims as best as she can to Ava.

The second she’s close enough, cold hands cup her cheeks and she’s pulled in for a salty kiss which she almost believed she would never again experience. Her eyes slip shut and she melts into the touch with ease. It feels like coming home, almost. But it’s over as soon as it started, and she’s just treading water as she drinks in as much of Ava’s face as she can possibly manage. She feels so at ease. So safe.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she admits.

And Ava just smiles at her, wraps an arm around her to pull their bodies flush together. She’s not as cold as the water, but she’s not warm. All the same, her body is familiar because it’s Sarah’s, too, and she’s looked often enough to have spent time wondering, imagining, how it might feel should she ever be able to look with her sense of touch. Not that she’d ever ask, of course. But right now, she doesn’t have to ask, because Ava offered.

Ava doesn’t say a word, but this right here is enough. They’re enough, together, in the cool water as they hold onto each other like they used to every single day before Sarah lost herself in the memories rain and storms bring. The water moves around them, and somehow they stay still, but some miracle of Ava’s tail moving slowly, occasionally brushing against Sarah’s legs. It’s a reminder that she isn’t all human. And yet, she doesn’t mind.

“The pod around here,” she says suddenly, spurred on by the sudden remembrance that Ava isn’t a person, that she’s another species. “They don’t look like you do.”

“Of course not. They’re Makos.”

The word is familiar, but not enough so for Sarah to recognize it right off the bat. “Makos?”

“That’s what humans call them, I think,” Ava answers. I believe I’m… someone once told me Grunion. I believe that’s the word. They’re like, this big-” she taps either side of Sarah’s face with one hand, still holding her with the other, “-and they come out of the ocean to lay their eggs. Not here, though. I came from…” Ava considers the coast, staring at it head on, and points to her right. “I came from really far that way.”

“I came from really far that way,” Sarah says, pointing straight at the shore. It’s not a lie. Chicago is really far east from here, and maybe a little north or south- she can’t entirely remember. She’s never been good with geography.

Ava nods and smiles, and they don’t talk about it much more. Sarah’s sure she recognizes both the words “Mako” and “Grunion” but will have to look them up later, maybe in Olivia’s book about marine life. Olivia brings up another slew of questions which would, in all likelihood, be too personal to ask. But she wants to. She wants to pull the first real family she’s ever known together, like tightening the seams by pulling on the end of the string.

Instead of saying a word, she relishes in the safety of this moment. She has the chance to be held, to revel in the light sway of the waves around them and starlight and the occasional kisses Ava deigns to give her. They hold on like this for as many minutes as the tide allows, but as it begins to sink back, replenish the tidepools, Ava bids her farewell and Sarah makes her way back to the sand so she can go home and rest. She has no idea what time it is, but her eyes are heavy and her fingertips wrinkly when she gets back home and drops her wet clothes to the floor in a problem for tomorrow.

She almost goes back to sleep on the couch, but remembers the comfort of last night, of a real blanket around her, and tears open the box of her bedding to pull out a plush comforter and drag it with her all the way to the bedroom. Everything is dusty and strange, unfamiliar, but she collapses onto the soft bed with uncased pillows at the headboard, and realizes how long it’s been since she’s slept somewhere truly comfortable.

As the blanket settles around her in a gift of warmth, she takes a moment to truly question why she hasn’t done this. Unpacking has been hard, each and every step of the way, but this felt easy. Reaching for something to cling to the feeling of arms wrapped around her, refill the empty space in her chest that had been so warm while Ava held her and made her feel worth something. Her physical body temperature rises, but it doesn’t make her feel better. It doesn’t fix the longing left behind.

All she can do in the pitch dark, head pillowed comfortably and hands fisted in the soft duvet, is imagine all the times she might be able to do this again. That full skin on skin contact screams of everything she’s been missing for a long time, perhaps her entire life. It’s something she wants to tell everyone and no one about. It’s a life changing experience that she simply can’t keep out of her immediate thoughts no matter how hard she tries.

Tomorrow, when she asks about Mako and Grunion, maybe she’ll ask what Ava likes. What she can give her. Because she knows Ava likes shells, but she gets those on her own and there’s little more than fragments on the beach where Sarah can reach them on her own. She just wants something to be able to give her in return for this all-consuming feeling and the mussel shells that still have a home atop her kitchen counter, carefully arranged to display their natural beauty.

When Sarah falls asleep, she dreams of salt-filled kisses and the feeling of arms around her waist.

#ciwfic #fic #mine

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canvaswolfdoll · 5 years

Text

CanvasWatches: Kill la Kill

Well, I’m more than five years late to this series. Probably the most egregious tragedy of my ‘Dubs Only’ policy, since the series never came to the Mighty Santa Clara County Library, and it took forever for Netflix to pick up the series, and years more for them to finally add the dub, then I had to find time amongst all the other things I was watching and things to do, then when I finally did have time, Netflix dropped it.[1]

Fortunately, it’s one of the limited dubs CrunchyRoll deigned to have. Not that they want to make it easy to find dubs...

Fortunately there’s a spreadsheet.

Anyways, I do have Amazon Prime, which means I have Twitch Prime, which means i get the most random free things.[2] Recently, that includes a month of Crunchyroll… premium I think is the nomenclature? Which is weird, since Amazon is also attempting to get in the anime market, and somehow doing worse than Netflix, so that they’d send traffic to a competitor is curious.[4]

Anyways, Crunchyroll also has the Konosuba dub, so that’s next.

Was I doing something besides complaining about anime streaming…

Oh, right.

Kill la kill.

Spoilers!

What do I have to say about Kill la Kill? To be honest, I’m not sure. I loved the series. To thread-sundering bits. If I were capable of such things, it would easily be included in my Best of Anime list.

But that’s also the problem. Imperfect works have things to nitpick and analyse and imagine improvements. Kill la Kill is the sort of series that even the imperfections are built into making the whole better.

And it has been analyzed and loved for five-plus years. What can I possibly say that hasn’t been said by countless, more articulate and educated voices?

Besides “ignore what looks like blatant pandering and watch it”?

I could do a navel gaze consideration of fanservice, but I’m not comfortable with addressing such a fraught topic in the public sphere yet.

Seriously, though, it’s super anime goodness. If you like Anime, you owe it to yourself to watch Kill la Kill.

Kill la Kill is another piece of media that psyches me up to create. It’s unabashed, goofy, and you can feel how everyone involved was just having fun. It doesn’t just impress you with the skill and creative output, it makes you feel like you can do this, too.

While I’ve always been interested in animation, my creative focus has always been towards writing[5] and comics, Kill la Kill was the first time I yearned to make animation.

The show looked at its limitations and found ways to make corner cuts work to make the whole better. Stilted, static shots and cuts are used for drama and comedy. The first shot that really blew me away was an early episode where protagonist Ryuko caught her friend Mako, and moved the girl to her feet, the whole time Mako remained stiff. It was hilarious, and not cost or labor intensive, but it made the scene better. Such artistic decisions pepper the frantic animation, and I loved every use.

The animation alone is worth the price of admission.

The narrative also was fun. Though, I must admit, as is often the case, when the show had to buckle down a tad bit to tell its big story, I found myself wistful for the early, episodic tales.

The initial premise is a good formula: troublemaker Ryuko arrives at Honnouji Academy, ruled by the despotic fist of Satsuki Kiryuin, and the two come in conflict. Ryuko gets a sentient sailor uniform, which transforms and grants Ryuko powers. Now Ryyuko must fight her way through the school hierarchy to face Satsuki and get answers.

The first three episodes focus on combat (though one of those is in the form of a tennis match), which would’ve worn thin eventually. Episode four, however, is when I went from ‘This is fun’ to ‘I can watch this forever’.

Ryuko, faced with needing to reach the school on time or face expulsion, must get herself, Mako, and a random third classmate through an egregiously dangerous obstacle course and uphill. And the entire episode is rambunctious, Loony Toons shenanigans that I kind of wish would’ve been a multiparter.

If the entire series was Ryuko having to face down numerous challenges that would be normally mundane, but are here supercharged into hilarious excess, I would’ve been quite happy.

Eventually, however, the main plot had to take over.

(Twists and big spoilers follow. Please watch this show.)

The show never really loses its absurdity. The Big Evil turns out to be the concept of clothing, as a giant, sentient cloud of thread elevated humanity’s evolution and inspired us to wear clothes, so we’ll be primed in a few generations to be consumed by clothes to allow reproduction.

And Satsuki’s Mom is in charge of making this happen.

Thus the good guy contingent are a bunch of nudists with mecha technology trying to resist this.

Like, the series justifies everything in the world, but the world’s also insane, to the point the battle cry of the heroes becomes essentially ‘Things are crazy, so let’s be crazy.’ And it never falls to sincere drama, just an ever climbing series of absurdities one-upping the last absurdity. And it’s so fun to just go along with the ride.

But it also makes it difficult to be committed to the big narrative. It’s a joke. A funny joke, but lacks the structure for the audience to be committed to the story.

Committed to the characters, yes. Besides Satsuki’s mother, everyone is very likeable and fun, and said mother’s only reason for not being among them is she’s too tied to the main Arc to be full blast absurd like the rest.

I would’ve preferred if the scale stayed small. Just Ryuko battling to the top of Honnouji Academy, the staff experimenting with all the absurd things they can do with the formula, but I can’t say the show they did produced wasn’t fun.

I like Kill la Kill. I’d happily watch it again someday. It’s good to pump you up and make you go out and accomplish something.

Even if that something is possibly streaking. Kill la Kill has a weird relationship with clothes.

If you want more of my hot-blood-fueled works, might I suggest supporting my Patreon? You’ll get early access to things I make, and help support a creative person doing creative things. Like a podcast, someday, hopefully.

Thanks for reading.

Kataal kataal.

---

[1] Then re-add it after I finished it. Dang you, Netflix, making me look like a fool! [2] Waiting to get my own Switch before I use the free months of Nintendo Online. And I’m waiting to see if the rumors about updated models coming bear fruit.[3] [3] Adulthood involves a lot of careful planning for leisure. Don’t grow up. [4] Current rankings is Funimation > Netflix > Crunchyroll (poor Dub attitude) > Amazon (Horrible cataloguing). I haven’t gotten HiDive yet, but I’m excited to try it! [5] Ever since second grade, when I looked at a picture I drew and thought ‘Oh, I’m bad at this. I better be a writer instead!’

#CanvasWatches #kill la kill #anime #CanvasReviews

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ragdollrory · 6 years

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"You always this quiet?" with Linko

A linko going your way! Thanks for the ask, and the patience!!———————————————-

“You always this quiet?” The question brought her up from her pondering, and Lin turned towards the Detective, he looked tired, bags under his eyes, his hair a mess, and his usual serious expression, was hardened, settled, but his voice remained soft, curious, polite.

“Pretty much. Never been one for small talk.” They had been at this for hours on end now, the longest stake out Lin could remember in a long time, and being in shortage of officers, she had stayed on it for twenty- she checked her watch, twenty six hours already, and counting.

“You should try to sleep Chief, I can take over it alone, for a couple of hours.” The Detective had come to relieve the officer who was keeping her company a couple of hours ago, but it seemed as if he hadn’t rested in days. And maybe he hadn’t. With the city in shambles, it had been a matter of hours until the Triads took over of everything they could, and having several officers hurt, or deceased, and a good amount in exile aiding the city’s population in their various locations, well… here they were. The highest ranked, or more experienced, or less concerned for their own wellbeing, trying to get the city back in order for the inhabitants to return.

“There’s no point in trying, when you know you won’t succeed, Detective, but thanks for the offer.” She answered, stifling a yawn and looking for the thermos where he had brought fresh coffee. She poured them both a cup, and sipped on it, closing her eyes, and letting her back rest on the wall behind her, trying to find a comfortable position. The armor was not made for long stake outs, and she had thought of taking it off, but should they need to spring to action, she couldn’t waste time in putting it on, and she couldn’t go out without it. Not when the Triads where being so hostile, and they were so short in men. Even with the aid of the United Forces, they were in disadvantage, if there was something this criminals were good at, was in hiding like rats in the middle of the demolished buildings, and moving in the underground tunnels of the city.

“Do you think that applies to everything in life?” He had been quiet for so long, that she had almost forgotten what was she had said last, and Lin stared at him, eyelids heavy, she only managed to keep them half open.

“No. I don’t think so.” She all but chuckled out, caught cheating on her own motto of never stop trying. “Only when it comes to something you’ve tried for years, and it has never changed.” She elaborated, realising she was, in fact, chatting with the boy. She decided she didn’t mind it, it was actually a nice change from the usual unsettling silence of keeping watch.

“Hmm…” He looked back ahead, and Lin took the moment to appreciate how the glow of the portal brought out his eyes, and shone on his hair. She smiled at his hard thinking, and how his lips had pressed into a fine line, jaw slowly moving side to side.

“You’ll hurt yourself.” It was her turn of startling him now, and he turned to her, a blush raising to his cheeks, and he ran his fingers through his hair with a soft laugh, lowering his stare to the floor between them. “You shouldn’t think so hard on so little sleep, or your brain will collapse.”

“Ha, funny you should say that, given that you’re the one who’s been up forever, Chief. When was the last time you actually slept?” He asked, finally looking up at her eyes, and there was genuine concern in his voice.

“Now, you don’t get to ask that. I’m your boss, and older than you for, well, never mind how much older, you get the idea.” Lin answered, dismissively, she was used to being shown concern, but she wasn’t used to finding it endearing, to liking it.

He shook his head, a tired smile on his lips, he knew a defeat when he got one, she smiled pleased and returned to resting against the wall. Lin wasn’t sure how, but she had managed to relax enough to doze off for a while, and when she opened her eyes next, she was met with the tangerine glow of the Detective’s eyes very close to hers, and she felt his warm hands on hers.

“I’m sorry Chief, you were- and the cup with the coffee- and I wanted to let you rest for a little while longer. I’m sorry I woke you.” He stuttered, scrambling back, away from her. She smiled down at her hand with the dangerously dangling cup, where his fingers, rough, calloused from his bending, had been a second ago, and she raised it towards him.

“Don’t you worry, I really shouldn’t leave you standing guard alone. It’s not correct of me, as your superior. Would you mind heating it up?” The Detective nodded, and took the cup from her hands, focusing on it, and Lin stared as steam slowly rose from it. It had been so long since she had seen fire used in such a menial task, and she couldn’t help but to smile. She had always loved those little tricks, her uncle used to do it all the time.

The Detective made to hand over the cup, but seemed to regret it, staring into its contents instead, his face pensevie again. Lin turned her head to the side, searching for his eyes, reaching out to him through the floor, trying to see what was happening with him. The pulse that reached back to her was troubled, anxious, and she worried for a moment, wondering what could be wrong with him.

“Would you go out with me, Chief?” Lin blinked, hard, and looked around them, maybe hoping there was someone else to tell her if she had heard right, his voice had been barely a whisper, after all. But no, they were alone, and he had asked that for real, and now his pulse was wild, racing.

“I’m sorry, I- don’t get it. Are you asking if you’re dating material? Are you having trouble with a girl? You should really know, I’m not the best in relationship advice, Detective.” She answered, confused. He looked up then, his brows furrowed, and his face contorted in confusion too, pain almost.

“No. Of course I’m not asking that. Damn, Chief, you really don’t make it easier for a guy, do you?” It was Lin’s turn for her heart to thunder in her chest now, and her eyes opened in shock, he was actually asking her out. What’s more, he was angry at her for not getting it.

For the longest minute she stared at him, and his cheeks colored, and she could feel the heat of a blush creeping up her neck too, but he was not looking away, and she couldn’t do it either. He was attractive, infuriatingly so, and young, and fit, she’d noticed stuff, she was not blind, nor stupid. But he was also young, and infuriatingly attractive, and what he could possibly want from an older woman like her? Especially when Lin saw how the women at the Force flirted shamelessly with him, heck, the men did too.

“Why?” She breathed out, not caring how it sounded, the insecurity she felt at being asked out by someone like him.

“Because I’ve tried to forget about you, for years, and nothing has changed. So I might as well change it myself.” And he was even using her own words against her, clever.

Lin felt somehow trapped now, because she wanted to say no, and she also wanted to say yes, and she was indeed physically trapped too, so she couldn’t really avoid the question, not now, and not for another six hours when someone came to take over the Detective.

“I, don’t know. What would we- Years, Detective, really?” Her mind was catching up with his words, and she couldn’t believe it, he must’ve been exaggerating.

“Yes Lin, years. Look, I’ll understand you’ll say no, I’m just a stupid kid anyways, but I needed to ask, see if hearing you rejecting me would help somehow. But, can I just-?”

He pushed himself away from his side of their hiding place, moving towards her, a hand reaching out to tuck a hair strand behind her ear, and Lin found herself pressing her body tight back to the wall, her breath coming in short bouts, eyes locked with his, pleading. To stop, to continue, she wasn’t sure which possibility was worse.

And he kissed her, barely pressing his lips to hers, his thumb running over her scarred cheek, his free hand pressing on her waist against the wall. She gasped, and his tongue found its way into her mouth, caressing hers, and she melted into him, reaching up to thread her fingers in his hair, and returning the kiss, until they were both out of breath, and had to pull apart.

“Fuck.” Mako cursed, as his sat back on the floor, in front of her. “Fuck Chief, that was-”

“Lin.” Lin said in a breath, too scared to allow her brain the time to process what was happening. “Call me Lin, and yes, I’ll go out with you, Detective.”

He laughed, and before she knew it, he was back over her, hands fisting in her hair, and lips hungry on hers. “Lin.” He breathed out to her mouth, and the fear in her chest diminished.

#lin beifong #mako #linko #tlok #the boy goes picking up girls at stakeouts #classy #linko or bust #svuandmariskaaddict #answered asks

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gutterballgt · 6 years

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I love the chaleigh headcanon that after Pitfall, they spend so much time together that after a while it gets to the point that in the rare occasions they’re apart, they get antsy about it. Not in an overly codependent way, mind you, just in a “god I hope my idiot hasn’t gotten into trouble” kind of way. Since the big scare with Chuck nearly dying, Raleigh sometimes has a hard time convincing himself that it didn’t actually happen and that Chuck is alive and well. -Kai

Kai, you are speaking my language.

At first, Raleigh doesn’t even know WHY he’s antsy. He just came to the mainland with Mako to waste some time together, and it seems like they just got off the ferry moments ago. They’ve barely seen each other between her administrative schedule and his and Chuck’s various therapies, and it seemed like such a good idea this morning to just get out for a while. Together. Feel that connection between them, even without a neural bridge.

Mako usually makes him feel so calm and centered, so happy and alive.

So why is he so antsy?

“Do you think Chuck’s okay?”

She looks at him, surprised but barely showing it. “I assume so. Why? Have you heard something new from the doctors?”

“No.” He’s half-tempted to pull out his phone and text the kid, just to make sure, but they’ve only been gone an hour. “Just... never mind. I’m sure he’s fine.”

He can feel her gaze on him, and where that direct gaze usually makes him feel connected and close, right now, it feels heavy and questioning. He knows she doesn’t still know his every thought, but it almost feels like she’s suddenly trying.

Less than five minutes later, he’s fidgeting with his phone, trying to talk himself out of checking on the kid. He’s fine, he tells himself. Nothing will happen to him at the dome. He’s with his dad and Max. He might as well be locked in a vault somewhere.

“Raleigh, do you want to go back? We didn’t have anything specific in mind to do.”

“No, no.” He never gets out of the dome. This is good for him. Chuck had agreed. “I’m fine. Just not used to being around all these people.”

Which is true, but it isn’t why he’s so antsy.

Where is Chuck? Sometimes that bad leg still buckles if he overworks it. Sure, Herc knows that and would catch him, but Chuck has a habit of going off on his own -- well, usually with Raleigh -- and if he’s tried something too strenuous....

His hand again goes to his phone in his pocket, and he almost drops it when it buzzes against his skin.

“Hello?”

Mako raises her eyebrows but keeps walking beside him.

“Raleigh?”

Relief fills him. Chuck doesn’t sound hurt or upset. Hell, the kid doesn’t even sound out of breath.

“Yeah, Chuck. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” But the kid sounds... relieved? “Just... never mind. You having fun? Where’s Mori?”

Feeling more settled by the second, he shoots Mako a smile full of every inch of his sudden good mood. “Right here. We’re thinking about getting some lunch.”

This time, she only raises one eyebrow. They haven’t said any such thing, though it is, indeed, creeping toward lunch time.

“Good, good.” A pause. “So... what are you getting?”

“Dunno yet. Do you want us to bring you something?”

“No! I mean, no thanks, mate. Not hungry yet. Just....”

He shoots Mako a questioning look and tilts his head away from her a bit. Because she’s amazing, she only smiles a bit and nods, then goes to look at a kiosk full of sunglasses and painted paper umbrellas for tourists. Raleigh moves a bit away. There’s really nowhere to be alone in the hustle of the Hong Kong streets, but he does his best.

“Chuck, is everything really okay? I gotta admit, I was just about to call you when you called me.”

“Yeah?” Again, the kid sounds ridiculously relieved. “I mean, I’m fine and all, but... just... needed to make sure.”

Sighing, he nods. “Me, too. I’ve felt weird since I left the dome. Not sure why.”

“Same. Reckon I got used to you always hanging about, prodding me to do more reps or fewer laps or whatnot. Felt... strange... that you’re not here.”

Raleigh blinks, feeling like a lightbulb’s gone on overhead. Is that why he’s so antsy? He admits that he probably spends more time with Chuck than with anyone else these days. He certainly rarely sees Mako with all her deputy marshal duties.

But now that he thinks about it, he even spends more time with Chuck than he does alone. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he and Chuck weren’t attached at the hip, save for the occasional going to their separate bunks to sleep.

Although even those times are becoming fewer and farther between, as they’ve started watching movies well into the night and falling asleep in a pile, and since neither of them sleep well alone, they’ve just... gone with it.

Jesus.

“Raleigh? Mate, you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah.” But he huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Just... kinda realized we’ve been in each other’s pockets for so long I’m not sure what to do when you’re not in arm’s reach.”

A heavy sigh. “You, too? Thank fuck, mate. I thought I’d gone and lost the fucking plot. Was worried about you getting one of your migraines and passing out in all the light and crowds and noise and shite and damn near demanded a chopper bring me over, yeah?”

Huffing another laugh of pure relief, he glances back to make sure Mako’s still over by the tourist trap kiosk, then switches the phone to his other ear. “I was worried you’d sneak out from under your dad and be all alone when your leg buckled or something.”

“Jesus.”

“Right?”

They’re quiet a minute, and it’s like the rest of Hong Kong has disappeared. Finally, Chuck grunts a bit and clears his throat.

“Anyway. Yeah, just... was checking on you. Go on back to Mori. I’ll... I’ll be here when you get back.”

He blinks, though he’s grinning softly. “Be where?”

“Uh.” Great. Now the kid sounds almost embarrassed. “In your bunk. Thought you might’ve come back early.”

Weirdly, the idea of Chuck waiting for him in his room gives him the warm fuzzies instead of being strange. He can almost see the kid wrapped up in the extra thermal blanket Raleigh always uses because the shatterdome is made of goddamn metal and it always feels cold to him. Propped up on the extra pillows they both used after particularly bad PT sessions. Watching movies on his display.

Waiting for him.

Yup. Warm fuzzies.

“Well, you never know. Make yourself at home, okay?”

Damn if that warmth doesn’t come through in his voice.

“Too late, mate.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and starts back toward Mako. “Good. We’ll be back after lunch.” Not that he and Mako have discussed that, but he doubts she’ll mind. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“If you go somewhere with noodles and potstickers...?”

“You got it.”

Mako raises her eyebrows, then relaxes at how much less anxious he apparently looks. He grins back at her.

“See you soon.”

“Too right.”

And he’s gone. But it’s okay, because at least the giant ginger dork is safely holed up in Raleigh’s room, waiting for him to come back.

“So.” Mako smiles a bit. “We’re going back after lunch, aren’t we.”

He doesn’t even bother looking sheepish. “I promised to bring back noodles and potstickers.”

“Of course you did.”

But he can tell she isn’t upset. Thus, it feels almost like normal when she threads her arm through his and leads him toward the nearest noodle shop, a new pair of sunglasses over her eyes and a blue and green-painted umbrella in her other hand.

What a lovely fucking day.

#chaleigh #pacific rim #these guys will be the death of me #but I love it when they worry about each other without knowing that's what they're doing #Anonymous

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tales-from-the-watchpoint · 6 years

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Junkers (seperate if you want) x smol female reader who killed the queen and the junkers don't beleive it until she shows proof (like her head)

i have almost no memory of what “smol” means so i just went with physically small. may constitute a sequel. idk

Two months after he’dmoved in, JUNKRAT had installed a doorbell of sorts on ROADHOG’S front door.Since they were out in the sticks of the scorched Australian desert, it didn’tget much use, but it kept the little maniac happy and he got a kick out of itwhenever it did ring- a crude recording of Fawkes’ own phlegmy, hyena-likecackle.

After the first fewweeks, he got used to Junkrat pressing it for fun, echoing the sound with hisown laughter. So when it rang, sometime between three and four in the morning,Mako let out a groan from deep in his chest, readjusted his blanket, and rolledover to go back to sleep.

But it kept ringing-and, unusually, he didn’t hear Fawkes laughing. Finally, he kicked off thecovers and shuffled over to the door, reaching out blindly to find his gas mask-there was only one person who knew what his face looked like and was also stillliving, and he was curled up in a gangly, skinny ball, mumbling to himself inhis sleep.

Mako opened the door acrack, peering out to see if it was a junker scrounging about for scrap- orworse, one of the Queen’s lackeys. Instead, he saw nothing but empty air, thedarkness of the Australian sky stretched out before him.

Then he heard someoneclear their throat.

“Hey… I’m down here.”they said, sounding annoyed.

Mako grunted, loweringhis gaze to meet the eyes of one of the smallest women he’d ever seen.

“Hi.” She said. “Icome with good news, and a present.”

“Hmmm? Whazzit…?….Roadie…?” Junkrat mumbled, rolling off his perch on the couch and landingwith an unceremonious thud.

“No solicitors.”Roadhog said, moving to slam the door shut.

The door stopped a fewinches short of closing, and was then pried back open to show the girl’s faceagain, now irritated. The muscles in her arms strained to hold the door open.

“I’m not selling.” Shegrit out. “The Queen is dead.”

At this, Mako abruptlylet go of the door, sending the girl stumbling into the house. He noticed thenthat she was holding a sack of some kind, lousy with the familiar smell ofdeath. In addition, bits of gore splattered the clothes that she wore. Wherehad she come from?

By the time the girlhad righted herself, Junkrat was halfway to his feet, wrinkling his nose at theuninvited smell.

“Hoo… did a rat get inagain?” he asked without thinking, then realized what he said. “I mean… ‘asidesfrom me.”

He was answered by thewoman dropping her sack on the floor, the fabric falling away to reveal a facethey all knew very well, eyes stuck open with a vacant stare.

“Is that…?” Junkratstared at the head, then at the girl, agape.

She didn’t answer,arms crossed tightly across her chest. Eventually, he put two and two togetherand rushed towards her, sweeping her into a tight hug with his bony arms.

“You crazy lil’ Sheila,you really did it!” He shouted happily, squeezing her tighter despite herannoyance. “The Queen is dead! The Queen is dead!”

Roadhog, in contrast,was markedly calmer than his companion. “Who are you?” he asked.

From within Jamie’svice grip, the woman scowled. “…[Name].” She said after a long silence. “Heardyou two wanted her dead, and were willing to pay.”

“Yesyesyes!” Jamiesaid, nodding like a bobble head. “But first! Tea.”

“…What?”

—

“So how’d you do it?” Junkratasked, practically vibrating in his seat. “Shaped explosive in the throne?Booby trapped cart of booty?! Grenade tothe face?!”

[Name] stared at him,pausing over the mug of tea Roadhog had given her. “…I used a gun.” She saidsimply.

Junkrat deflated,poking despondently at his own mug. “That’s boring,though!” he whined, pouting. “Whatta lack of imagination behind that prettyface- and here I was thinking we were gonna be the best of friends!”

“… I’m sorry.” [Name]said incredulously. “I was gonna be polite, but now I’m getting impatient.Where’s my money?”

She looked to Roadhog,who stared back through the empty sockets of his gas mask. Then she turned toJunkrat, who squirmed in his seat.

“Well’m… you see. Ah…”Jamison licked his lips nervously, the cogs in his mind rotating at about amillion kilometers an hour.

“I can’t believethis.” [Name] said, her face collapsing into her palms. “You goddamn drongoes lied about the reward, didn’t you?”

Junkrat looked toRoadhog for help, but Mako didn’t see the point in lying. He simply noddedsilently.

[Name] scowled, kickingover her chair as she stood up. “Goddammit!” she shouted. “Knew I couldn’ttrust a couple’a traitors like you! What am I gonna do now? I can’t go back toJunkertown- because- because-“

She yelled wordlessly,punching the table with as much strength as she could muster. While Junkratshrank back in fear, Mako sat impassively, letting her vent. She threaded herfingers through her hair and pulled, gritting her teeth.

“You- I- you fucking- aagggh!” She stormed over toJamison’s lab- a disorderly pile of half-finished projects, and kicked it withthe steel toe of her boot. Then, she stomped on the closest thing, whichhappened to be a deactivated mine.

“Hey, hey heyheyheyheyheyhey!” Junkrat exclaimed, suddenly leaping up from his spot to pryher off his precious invention. “That’s hardly sporting now, is it? We- me andMako here-“ he turned to Mako, grinning cautiously. Mako stared at him throughhis mask, breathing heavily. Junkrat let out a choked, nervous sound, andturned back to [Name]. “We can work out a new deal, see? If ya can’t go back toJunkertown- I mean why wouldja that place is such a…” he paused, noticing that[Name] was still glaring, getting ready to start hitting.

He cleared his throat.“What I mean to be sayin’ is… you can stay with us!”

[Name] stared at himwith a combination of anger and disbelief. “…Seriously?”

Junkrat nodded, hishead bobbing like a loose spring. “Yes! Yesyesyes! We’ll be like one lovelylil’ family, committing crimes n’ all those things families do. A… acrime-family. Crime-ily.”

“Shut up.” Roadhog finally said, clapping ahand on Junkrat’s shoulder and pulling him back.

Despite all this,[Name] appeared to be seriously thinking it over. She rested her chin in herhand, the other on her hip. Finally, she threw her hands up in the air indefeat.

“What have I got tolose?” she said, more to herself. “I’ve seen your heists. Maybe I can earn myreward on my own.”

Junkrat practicallybeamed, wrapping her into a full-body hug with his spindly limbs. “YAAAY!” heshouted. “New partner in crime!” He squeezed her tighter, and despite the punchin the face that Roadhog was expecting to occur, [Name] took the assaultwithout resistance, even saw the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. “Now,nownownow. If you ever need to charge us interest, I’ll pay that lot off incuddles, a’ight?”

Under his mask,Roadhog sighed. Things were about to get a lot more interesting.

#overwatch imagines #overwatch x reader #jamison fawkes #junkrat #roadhog #sfw #mako rutledge #overwatch

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tarot-tatas · 7 years

Text

A Time Like This

Read it on AO3

Look,

I'm on a study break and it's my own shark week. This shit hurts and my gf isn't here to comfort me because that's what I turn into when this happens - a whiny piss baby who needs princess time and cries about everything.

Makoto woke up on a Monday morning at her usual time of 6am. Criminals wouldn’t stop themselves, after all.

She sat up, stretched and rubbed her eyes, expecting to see a familiar lump next to her in the bed. Normally, the lump would be stationary, probably snoring, but today wasn't the case. The lump was there, no doubt, but it was wriggling slowly. "Ann?" Makoto leaned over and gently pulled back the bed sheet with two fingers, expecting to see the calm sleeping face of her girlfriend. But she saw discomfort and pain instead. "Makoo~" Ann whined softly with her eyes shut and hands wrapped around herself. Makoto's blood turned cold and her heart dropped, going 'splat' into her stomach. "A-Ann, love, what's wrong?" Makoto asked gently, moving a blonde strand of hair away from her lover's face while knowing the answer to her question already.

Ann opened her eyes, watery and blue, and gazed at Makoto as if she was about to have the living daylights beaten out of her. "It's my time." Makoto's face whitened as moved closer to place a soft kiss on Ann's temple. "I'm sorry about that, will you call in sick from work?" Ann nodded and reached around to take Makoto's Buchimaru-kun pillow to hug tightly. "Do you want me to tell the others that you can't make it to lunch?" Makoto softened her voice more and stroked Ann's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Mmm...yes pwease..." Ann's weak reply instantly put Makoto on edge. The calm before the storm. "Would...would you like anything else?" Makoto was very careful with her words, knowing how easy it was for anyone to swing moods during a time like this. "Ice cream..." Makoto furrowed her brow and scratched the back of her head, feeling the little knots that had formed during her sleep. "It's a bit early for that, plus we both know that green tea is better to have that ice cream during th-" Ann's head snapped back to look at Makoto with a deadly glare. Makoto gulped, "Ann, you'll feel a lot better when you have tea - you know this." The blonde puffed out her cheeks and pulled the entire bed sheets to herself, leaving Makoto exposed in her Buchimaru-Kun pyjamas. "Ann," Makoto sighed and moved closer, but a hand struck out and jabbed Makoto by the cheek away. Ann huffed and curled up like a hedgehog, and Makoto sighed, swinging her legs off the bed. "Ann, please listen to me." Another huff. Makoto sat up and got dressed. "Would you like an appointment with Dr. Takemi?" Another huff. "Well what is it you want?" Makoto herself huffed at Ann while throwing open her cupboard door and pulling out her uniform. It was already 6:25am. "I can't understand huffs," she added, and was only met by a throaty groan. "You're a dog now?" Another short groan. Makoto rested her head against the mirror inside her cupboard. Shutting her eyes, she counted back from five to one. "Ann, I need to go to work. Is there anything you want while I am out?" "Ice cream," a proper mumble of a response. Makoto threw on her blue shirt and buttoned it up to the top. "There's ice cream in the fridge that you want to eat already, so I can't bring anymore home." Ann shot up and gave Makoto another scowl. "Why are you such a bitch?!" She snapped, her hands gripping the covers so tightly her knuckles were lightening in colour. "I'm not! You want ice cream, as silly as that is, and it's already in the fridge for you!" Ann threw the Buchimaru-kun pillow at Makoto with all the force her cramping body could muster. Makoto managed to block the aerodynamic panda just in time to hear an ungodly screech from her girlfriend. "Get out! I hate you!" "No you don't, you hate the pain," Makoto rolled her eyes and chucked the pillow back onto the bed before proceeding to finish getting dressed. "There's food in the fridge, take some tablets, I'll visit Takemi and get more painkillers too," Makoto looked over at the calender in their room and noticed the big red 'X' in red on the current date, then saw the black 'X' right under it to signal that she was due next week. "I'll get the rest of myself ready at the station, I'm running late," Makoto blew a kiss to the gremlin monster in the bed and picked up her biker jacket from the rack behind the door. She left the room and heard a scream and dodged the same Buchimaru-Kun pillow that shot out after her. "I'm a fucking hormonal princess! LOVE ME!"

"Geez, you look like you've been fighting shadows," Ryuji smirked as Makoto took off her helmet and look at him with lifeless eyes. "It's Ann," she let out an exasperated sigh and dismounted her bike. The police station was right next to the café Haru owned and ran, and her boyfriend was sitting out the front with a cold drink on the table. "Good morning Mako-chan!" Haru came outside with a takeaway cup of coffee for Makoto, having known the police commissioner for a number years and her regular order. "Morning Haru, and thanks," Makoto gave a tired smile and took the coffee from Haru. "Ann's going through a tough time," she explained with an eyebrow raise towards Haru as an indication it was THAT time. "Oooh, I see," Haru nodded in understanding and touched her own stomach. "Lucky mine just finished. You would think after all of us being friends for so long that we would all sync up." "Yeah, that's true," Makoto chuckled and took a long sip of the coffee. Ryuji looked between his girlfriend and friend, confused and furrow browed. "Ya lost me." "It's a certain thing that we have because we have certain parts, darling," Haru patted his shoulder gently.

It took the blonde a minute, then the lightbulb switched on. "Oh it's the thing where you get me to hide the knives once a month!" He blurted out, which made Makoto blink in shock at Haru. "I'm...not even going to ask," Makoto was lost for words. "Don't," Ryuji warned then winked at Haru. Makoto's phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and saw an image from Ann...in her hoodie with the hood up, a scowl on her face and flipping the bird. Underneath was a message:

Ann: Bring home chocolate or sleep somewhere else "Did Ann-chan just start?" Haru asked Makoto, who let out a groan. Ann was wearing the 'emotions hoodie.' "Today, she's probably eating ice cream right now, seeing as that's what she wants." "Tea is normally better for us," Haru mused out loud and Makoto winced. "I always suggest tea and she throws a fit. You'd think by now I'm used to what she's like during menstruation," Makoto rubbed her eyes. "So I take it Ann ain't join' us for lunch then," Ryuji rocked on the back legs of his chair. "No way, unless you want to get pillows thrown at you," Makoto hung her head and turned on her heel. "I need to start work, see you guys later."

With her emotions hoodie on, Ann was curled up on the couch of the apartment she owned with Makoto. On the tv was a re-run of an old anime from the nineties. In Ann's lap was a tub of ice cream and next to her was a pile of painkillers. "I bet Sailor Moon didn't have cramps," she muttered, scooping up a dollop of ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She had calmed down from the morning and was now just in a slump, and felt bad for yelling at Makoto out of the sheer pain that felt like someone swinging a sledgehammer against her ovaries. With a sigh, she picked up her phone and went into her messages and found the thread for her and Makoto. She typed out a quick message: Ann: Sorry bout this morning I didnt mean any of it, i love you <3

She sent it off and curled even tighter into a ball, knowing Makoto wouldn't look at her phone until she was on a break.

"I sure am glad I don't suffer from that monstrosity," Yusuke crossed his long arms and flicked his hair back. "Then why do you act like it half the time?" Akira asked, not missing a beat and not looking up from his phone. Yusuke could only look dumbfounded as Ryuji burst out into laughter with Morgana and Haru giggled with her hand over her mouth. Makoto was not paying attention, but reading the text Ann had sent her earlier in the day. She tapped out a response slowly, not knowing if Ann's mood had swung since the time the text was sent. Makoto: Its okay, I know. I love you too. A minute later, the phone vibrated again and Makoto looked at the screen. Ann: Can you please get the stronger meds? Makoto: Sure, did you want anything else, your majesty?

Ann: Crepes with chocolate and chocolate ice cream and pocky and chocolate mochi and chocolate cake and-

Makoto pocketed her phone and returned to the conversation, which was to no surprise still questioning Yusuke's very existence.

Ann opened the freezer and pouted at the the diminishing ice cream. She opened the fridge next and peered inside, finding a white chocolate mousse inside. "This will do," she sighed and pulled her victim from the fridge. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Setting aside the mousse and retrieving her phone, Ann opened the group chat thread and smiled at the picture of Yusuke looking shocked about something. Ann: Lmaooooo hahaha

She typed back a response and dug into her mousse, shutting her eyes tightly to ignore the bear trap that was just let off in her stomach.

"...Menstrual cycle, huh?" Makoto scowled at Takemi from across the examination. "Yes." "And yours is next week," Takemi didn't even look up from the boxes she was putting stickers on. Makoto flushed bright red and cross her arms and legs. "M-Mind your own business! You don't even know for sure!" Makoto squeaked and curled into herself as Takemi smirked. "I know because you're in sync with your sister," she handed the box of painkillers out to the younger Niijima, enjoying the frown on her face. Makoto pulled out her wallet and slapped the yen down on the table. "Keep the change, tell sis I said hi and to not share that stuff," she grumbled and left the room, a smirking Takemi watching her as she did so. "She didn't share it, kid. I'm a doctor."

Makoto turned the key to the apartment and entered. The lights were off, save the television playing. On the couch was Ann, half on her back half on her side fast asleep with her mouth open. Her hoodie was still up, so Makoto gently closed the door behind her and crept over the kitchen to set down the plastic bags and the takeaway on the counter. She took a deep breath, and gently approached the sleeping Ann and sat beside her. "Ann," Makoto let a finger trail along from Ann's shoulder to her arm. The blonde stirred and slowly opened her unfocused eyes. "...Mako..." "That's me, the bitch you hate," Makoto smiled pressed a kiss to Ann's head. Instantly, Ann curled up and groaned, "I...don't hate you..." "I know you don't," Makoto rubbed Ann's back in slow circular motions. "You hate the pain, and you're allowed to." "...It sucks," Ann sat up slowly and shook the hair out of her face. "I'm fucking gay I don't deserve this." Makoto chuckled and brought Ann into a hug. She let Ann rest against her and continued to rub her back and arm. "You don't, honey. You really don't." Ann let out a soft hum and relaxed even more, still wincing at the pain. "I got the pain killers for you, and brought home some takeout and a hot chocolate," Makoto said softly, and Ann lifted her head to look directly into brown eyes. "For me?" "For you," Makoto nudges Ann's nose gently, loving the dazed smile that came from the blonde. "You hormonal monster princess." Ann giggled and took down her hoodie to reveal matted twin-tails. She leaned in and gently kissed her girlfriend on the lips. Makoto tasted chocolate, and only chocolate, but at least it wasn't the taste of enemy blood. "Wanna eat on the couch?" Makoto mumbled against Ann's sweet lips. "Mhm," was the weak response. Ann spent the night in Makoto's lap with pad thai in her lap and the fluffiest hot chocolate ever on the coffee table in front of her. Makoto pampered her silly as they watched some strange game show featuring men say tongue-twisters or get their balls hit. "That," Ann said through a mouth of noodles. "That is what it's like." "I'll be sure to tell Yusuke," Makoto grinned.

~One Week Later~

Ann yawned and stretched, feeling better than ever. She had an early photoshoot out at the fishing pond. "Morning Mako," Ann rolled over to kiss her girlfriend, but got a groan in response. "Mako?" The blonde looked down and saw Makoto, thriving in pain with gritted teeth, clutching at her stomach. "Ann...Ann help..." The brunette hissed and whined, clinging to her Buchimaru-Kun pillow. Ann placed a hand to her cheek and sighed - it was her girlfriend's time. "Alright, what do you want babe?" Ann big spooned Makoto and rested her hands on the tight stomach. "Ice cream," was the response from the woman in pain. "Babe, it's 7am, you can't have ice cream for br-" "Shut up and get me dairy," Makoto snapped and curled up into a ball. Ann scowled and sat up again. "Fine, fine. I'm getting you green tea as well, it'll make you feel better." "Come back quickly, cancel everything I need you here," Makoto instantly whimpered and gave Ann a puppy dog pout. Ann put her hand on her hip and shook her head with a smile. "Sure thing, your majesty."

#Makoann #tw period #persona 5 #persona 5 fanfiction

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bazaarwords · 7 years

Text

Korra figured things should have felt different after her first time.

Especially since it’d been her first first time, and during the previous night she’d felt like the world had been tilted on its axis.

And she might have felt a little different the next day, like there was a little more spring to her step, and that she’d been smiling a lot more than she usually would on any other Monday, but all in all she felt… pretty normal. It wasn’t concerning, just a little ways off from her expectations.

So in the morning she trained with the airbender kids like she’d promised to, and met with Zhu Li at noon like she’d planned, and she’d stopped for a smoothie at the Little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall with Bolin and Mako when they’d all had an hour to spare.

That was about it.

The rest of the day was meetings that she wasn’t as irritated to sit through as she’d been in previous days, and when she’d retired to Air Temple Island that night, she was tired, but more than content.

The only issue was that when she laid down, she couldn’t get to sleep. Because less than twenty-four hours prior, she’d been in a different bed, doing different things.

Maybe things were different. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed.

She had memories now, ones that stuffed her conscious mind full, ones that kept her up. But Korra wouldn’t complain. She’d never fallen prey to insomnia for a good reason before. So that was different.

Adjusting herself against the hard bed, she let her mind wander. The thing was, the more she let it wander, the more she had to adjust. And the more she had to adjust, the less sleep she got. She thought once about trying to expedite the journey to sleep, but a few minutes with a hand under her waistband proved fruitless, frustrating. That was different, too.

The big problem was that she missed Asami.

Maybe something had shifted within her somewhere she couldn’t see, but it was something she wanted to talk about, and hadn’t yet had the chance. Asami had been called off to the factory just as the sun had risen, and all Korra had got in the way of early morning interaction had been a kiss as her girlfriend hurried out the door. And she knew that Asami would pull an all-nighter, what with the scale of her newest project. She’d done it before, and it was that determination that made Korra so proud of her. That, and about a million other things.

So she couldn’t force herself to sleep, couldn’t coax herself to sleep, couldn’t think herself to sleep, what was there?

A soft noise indicated the opening of the sliding door.

Korra shot up, blinking hard at the darkness.

“It’s just me,” came the voice in reply, and Korra felt her entire body relax. Asami. “Give me a second to get changed. I’ll be right there.”

There was a lightness in her tone, a lilting quality Korra had only just begun to hear. She loved it. “You ever hear about the Law of Attraction?”

“Mhm,” Asami hummed from the other side of the room, bemused. Korra could just make out her figure as she slipped out of her work clothes. This was different as well. The dip of Asami’s spine, the smoothness of her skin. “Kind of an ‘ask and you shall receive’ mentality. Ask the universe, I guess. Why?”

“Because,” Korra began with a kind of noncommittal noise, gauging the stupidity of her next words. “I was just thinking about you and here you are. I’d say it’s definitive proof, but I think about you all the time. We’ll have to run more tests.”

Asami laughed, louder than Korra had expected. It made her smile. “You sound like me,” she giggled, and Korra found herself squinting at the darkness to watch the muscles of her back shift as she slid her nightgown on. “I guess I’ve been rubbing off on you, huh?”

It wasn’t meant to be a joke or any kind of innuendo, but Korra felt the heat rising to her cheeks all the same. “I—well… I guess you have.”

She heard the padding of bare feet and Asami’s little huff of realization. Before she responded, Korra scooted over so her back was pressed against the wall and Asami could lay down beside her. “In more ways than one,” Asami joked and leant forward, pressing a misplaced kiss to the side of Korra’s nose. They both laughed. “Where’s your mouth?”

Instead of telling her, Korra pressed her lips against Asami’s, firm enough to earn her a little intake of breath but gentle enough that she could feel the softness of red-stained lips on hers. It was slow, languid, and in the cover of night they could both imagine that they had forever to just kiss. Korra wished that they had forever, because she’d realized time and time again in the months they’d been together, that she’d never once tired of kissing Asami.

A hand came up to Korra’s jaw, framing it with gentle care, and it felt a little like worship and a little like love. Asami’s fingers played along her skin, moving to thread through her hair, and Korra deepened the kiss in response, wanting to show her appreciation.

She was thinking about the previous night. Now, instead of a fantasy, she had something tangible to draw upon, a past experience that had lain between her thoughts the entire day, pulled front and center as Asami scratched at her scalp the way she knew Korra liked. The way she had the night before.

Even though it was the very last thing she wanted to do, Korra pulled away slowly, leaving one more indulgent peck before pressing her forehead against Asami’s and just breathing. Her skin was humming with energy, and she felt even more alive and wired than she had before, but there were still things they’d left unsaid, and Korra knew that she needed her wits about her if she was going to say them.

“Korra?” Asami’s voice was hoarse, but so raw and vulnerable that Korra felt her chest clench at the sound of her name. “Are you all right?”

This was new, too. Asami had always confided in her, but she’d left her heart bare in front of Korra the night before, and Korra couldn’t help but feel honored that she was the only one Asami let herself be that open with.

“I’ve never been better,” Korra answered, and had never felt the truth in an answer like that before. “I missed you today.”

Asami’s fingers played at the soft hairs on the back of her neck. “I missed you too,” she breathed, gentle, loving. “I thought about you all day.”

“Mm,” Korra hummed, closing her eyes at the sensation against her neck. It was so nice, and so distracting, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Asami to stop. She didn’t want her to stop. So she tried for a coherent thought, “Last night was…” she trailed off with a huff, still in awe of how it made her feel. “I don’t have the words.” She watched Asami’s features soften further, and the scratching at her neck slowed to a stop. “But I didn’t get to tell you how important—how much it meant to me. And I’ve been thinking about it—about you, and I still can’t describe it.”

“I feel the same, Korra,” Asami said, and Korra met her eyes, almost overwhelmed by the earnestness in those words. “You told me it was your first time, and at first… at first I felt a little guilty that it wasn’t mine.” She admitted, but before Korra could retort that, no, she didn’t care about any of that, she was continuing, “You’re so special to me. And last night… I’ve never felt like that before, with anyone. No one else has ever been you.”

Oh, to hear that. Korra knew, objectively, how Asami felt. But to hear those words from her was beyond anything she’d ever felt. A little vindicating, too, to know that she was… maybe not better, but more than the others. They didn’t matter, and it was only when Korra saw the trust and the openness in Asami’s eyes that she realized that she’d been a little worried that she might not have measured up.

It didn’t matter, now. None of that mattered. And that was different, too.

So she told Asami that she loved her. Because it was the easy truth, and because she’d never felt more confident in the way she’d felt about another person before. There had always been misgivings or concerns with others, but when Asami echoed her words, leaning forward to kiss her again, Korra felt unequivocally right about her admission.

And they made love that night, because it had been said, and because neither could think of any other way to express what they were feeling. Words could not—would not do justice.

After, as Asami curled against Korra’s chest, still out of breath, but so content, so satisfied—that was different, too. Korra had never been so at peace.

To Korra, it seemed like everything and nothing had changed at the same time.

I realized that I posted this over on my AO3 prompt collection, but not here. So it’s not new, per se, but it’s new here. Sorry.

I have a ko-fi now too! If you want to buy me a coffee, that’s hella rad, but if not, I hope you’re enjoying the fic BARRAGE

#writing #prompts #writing prompts #fanfiction #my fics #my writing #lok #lok fanfiction #legend of korra #legend of korra fanfiction #korrasami #korrasami fanfiction #korra #asami sato

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kuno-chan · 7 years

Text

The Book of War - Ch. 18, Korra and Nuka: Of Wicked Mind

Rating: T

Summary:The New Earth States are unstable. Avatar Korra must conquer the war within her and the one on the rise after the instability of the New Earth States turn into tragedy and the Southern Air Temple is attacked by a legacy of the late Earth Queen. Peace is fragile, but Korra is determined to protect the future of her children and the children of her friends and their families as well.

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–

Korra and Nuka: Of Wicked Mind

Nuka could barely breathe.

Not necessarily because he was running, but rather at the constant memory of the earth crumbling at his back. Of Osina trapping herself under rock so he could escape. It’d happened so fast. All of it so fast that he was barely still able to believe that it’d even been necessary, but he couldn’t think of another solution. Another way they could have gotten out of there without somebody dying. And at that idea… it occurred to him that Osina felt like he was worth saving far more than her. For some reason.

It was hard for him to see how.

With a tight feeling in his belly, he tried to recall the path Osina told them to take when they started their trek. Thankfully, he had a good memory and a decent sense of direction because at least that wouldn’t make him feel like he’d wasted the chance Sila’s mother was giving him.

He refused to believe she was gone.

She could still survive and he wasn’t going to give up on that until he absolutely had to.

He quickly made his way through Osina’s path with a mental map in mind, turning corners and going through large caverns where there was several tunnels, but he took a deep breath each time he saw those and tried to remember which path was the right one.

He didn’t know whether it was luck or misfortune that he found his destination so quickly, an entrance way hidden in ice that led up a flight of stairs and into what looked like some kind of control room. Lucky for all these people that he found them without delay. Those soldiers knew how to get down here now and who knew before somebody sent more?

He saw his father speaking with a man that looked to be in charge: a man with blue eyes and braids. Then, he saw Sila. That tight feeling in his belly became almost unbearable when he strode over to him, her brows furrowed. Spirits, she already knew something was wrong. Of course, how could she not when he showed up alone--

“Nuka… You took a while. We we’re getting worried.” she began, quiet and slow. Her brows remained knitted. “Why are you… where’s my mother?”

Nuka was at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say. What to do. If he dared. But he had to. How could he not tell her that her mother was possibly--

He looked in those eyes. Eyes that were fully trusting of him. Ever since she’d met back up with him on this trip she had never shown him a thread of distrust.

He couldn’t lie to her.

And, that meant, he couldn’t lie to himself. Everything he told himself earlier suddenly couldn’t stand. Sila’s mother was lying underneath that rubble and there was a good chance.... a damn good chance that she wasn’t walking out of there. His eyes much have gone glossy because he blinked away the wet feeling as his father also came over, opening his mouth to say something, but pausing at the apparent look on Nuka’s face.

Sila stepped forward. “Nuka, where’s my mom?”

“I…” He couldn’t. He couldn’t do this, but spirits he had to. He shook his head at her. “There were… there were soldiers down here. Men who must have followed us from earlier. They weren’t going to let us pass and your mom, she…” Nuka swallowed as Sila’s eyes went slightly wide. “She made sure that I did to warn you all. She… she made sure the tunnel collapsed.”

Mercifully, Nuka’s father didn’t say anything. In fact, he took a step away. Sila, on the other hand, just stared at Nuka.

It was only in that moment that he realized most of the room was staring at him.

He let her die. That was what he felt like they were thinking. How could he just let someone die like that? So easily.

There was that crushing weight in his chest as he tried to speak. “I’m…” he tried. “Sila, I’m so sorry. I should have--”

He felt her hand on his arm. A firm grip that didn’t waver. To steady him. To steady her. He didn’t know. Looking at her again, there was a pain in her eyes, but she shifted into that warrior he knew. The girl as sturdy as the shield she carried. He didn’t know what to say when she told him, “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, something in him breaking as the words escaped him. Spirits forgive him, he let her mother die. He let another human being just… die.

“So am I,” she croaked, pausing as she turned to face the room, giving him one last squeeze of the arm. She faced a large man standing next to Nuka’s father now and talked to him directly. “Soldiers know there are tunnels down here now. It will only be a matter of time before they bring more and find this place. I think we need to move.”

The man, clearly in charge by his stance, regarded her with an evaluating gaze. He looked over Nuka with that same look. “You’re sure these were enemy soldiers?”

Nuka nodded miserably. “Positive. They wore the uniform.”

“Then Osina bought us precious time,” he said, his voice growing into a loud boom. “And we will not let it be in vain. Everybody pack up! Gather all important files and information you can carry and get to the exit in an organized fashion! We’re moving out of here in fifteen minutes tops!”

The man turned away from them to begin grabbing things. Nuka, on the other hand, could barely move.

“Sila--”

Sila looked at him, her face calm but tempered by something somber. “Nuka, I don’t blame you,” she said point blank. “But right now we need to move.”

Nuka shook his head, moreso at himself than at her, “I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I know you are. But right now is the time to focus. My mother would want you to--” Her voice broke. “ To focus. Please.”

A plea. Her eyes were brighter than normal and she was stiller than usual. As if inside and out she was struggling to function, but her mind was forcing her into some kind of action. Any.

“...alright,” he said quietly. She didn’t even nod at him and turned away. Some part of him sinked into the hollow place that had formed in his belly.

It had all happened so fast.

-:-:-:-

Korra

-:-:-:-

Korra was a smart woman.

For all the things that she was, an idiot was not one of them. But she sure did feel like she was making a stupid move by climbing up the ladder of this blimp. It’d fallen from the blimp for her -- a clear invitation. Just climb right into the enemy clutches. She supposed Mako had a reason to worry about her so often.

Still, if Hanyo was still Hanyo then that was her saving grace. This way of coming back into public eye sure was him -- out in the open, dramatic and utterly time wasting. He liked his entrances. She wasn’t even remotely surprised when she climbed up the opening and into a room with nothing but a radio on a table against the wall facing her. She looked up, nobody even among the inner workings of the blimp for her to see.

Typical. After all these years, he clearly hadn’t changed much. If anything, the only thing he seemed was crazier if all these attacks were to go off of.

She approached the radio and snatched the end of it to her mouth. “I see you’re still the same,” she said, pressing the button. “You haven’t changed.”

The radio took a moment, then spurred to life. “I see you haven’t either, Avatar Korra.” His voice was still creepy as ever. That polite monotone. A pleasant something there that just wasn’t right with the world. “You were always a gracious guest.”

“Cut it,” Korra snapped. “You were the one behind the Air Temple Island attack. And the attempted assassination on the Beifongs in Zaofu… why?”

She still couldn’t believe she hadn’t saw it. Hadn’t thought of it. Her hope was that he had wasted away somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anybody else. Apparently she was wrong.

“But my dear, Korra, why not?”

Korra frowned, resisting the urge to crush the radio speaker in her hand. “I can play twenty questions just the same. Why are you here in the North Pole?”

When he didn’t answer, her grip on the radio tightened. Always playing games. Games that he never cared involved people’s lives. How many people had died because he thought the world was one giant pai sho game?

And this man wanted to be a king?

Never. Korra would never allow it as long as she was breathing.

“The North Pole,” Hanyo’s voice finally came out of the radio again. “Is a wealth of what I need.”

Korra frowned. A wealth of what he needed? And what exactly was that?

And then the world stopped when it struck her:

The spirit portal.

It hit her light lightning. Her eyes widened and she looked back through the window, at the spirit portal a pillar of light in the sky. The vines. Everything about the attack on Air Temple Island had been about the spirit vines. All of it a distraction so that she wouldn't feel the spirit vines in distress while she was distressed about her friends and family being in peril.

Despite it’s age, the Northern Water Tribe capitol was still smaller than Republic City. On top of it all, it’s government was built like a monarchy. If you had the chiefs then you had the keys to the city.

“You want the portal.”

“Correction, Avatar. I need that portal. It’s going to deliver me my crown. One you stole from me after you helped tarnish my country with this so called democracy.” She could almost hear him smiling like nothing but a man bemused by a simple joke. “How might that be coming by the way? I’ve heard terrible things over the decade. The war never did end for you, did it? For my beloved country?”

“Beloved.” Korra scoffed, but her jaw tightened. “Don’t make me laugh. You killed anyone in your way. Even people who weren’t. You were there when you slaughtered the airbenders and air acolytes at the Southern Air Temple. You killed them for no reason at all.”

Hanyo sighed. “Always incorrect. I didn’t kill them for no reason.” He chuckled. It made Korra’s blood run cold. “I killed them because it made you finally listen.”

It took all of Korra’s strength not to outright break the radio even as she heard it crack in her hand. Hanyo was the same. Slimy, apathetic and above all, a coward.

“And where are you now?” she said coldly, bracing on hand on the table. “Hiding? I know you’re not on this blimp. You only show your face when you know you’re going to win. Or when there’s carnage that’s extra satisfying to you. Don’t think anybody’s fooled by you. You’re just a sadist. And you listen to me and listen good: You will never be king. I will never let you. Even if they crown you, I will come for you and I will end you in your sleep. I swear it on my honor as an Avatar. Hanyo of the Hou-Ting dynasty, you will never wear that crown physically or in formality so long as you shall live.”

Silence. Utter silence over that radio. It was too long for him to have just shrugged off her words. She wondered if he was just staring at the device in front of him or if he was smashing something in his wake. Knowing him, he was probably doing the former and would do the other later.

The radio fizzed to life again. “Such empty promises. You promised to bring balance to the world and, yet, war has ravaged my people for a decade because of you. You promised to protect your child and, yet again, you failed and she left you. A failed Avatar and a poor mother.” Korra’s stomach lurched. “Worry not. It’s all going to be over soon. Today, I wonder, if I will decide that you die. Or would it be much more interesting to see you resist me before I crush you? Perhaps Tikaani would like to see that?”

“You leave my daughter out of this!” Korra felt the radio cracking in her hand. “What do you know about her?”

“I know she left you. As does the whole world.”

It was Korra’s turn to take too long to answer. Finally, she replied, “You sure do love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

“As I said, Avatar… soon. Soon this will all be over for you.”

Korra shook her head and… and she smiled. A wicked smile when she realized one thing. “Oh, it will be over for me. And for you. You’re so confident when you talk that I can just hear the spoiled royalty in you. I bet you’re somewhere just drinking tea and waiting for someone to come tell you that you’ve won. You don’t even know what’s going on, do you?”

That undiluted silence.

She went on. “Well, to give you an idea, you should at least know enough that you’re well aware your forces only have so much time for your attack. It’s very time sensitive with that United Republic military base not too far from here.” She snorted. “You didn’t know about the second wall, did you? It’s such a new thing, why would you? You’re little pincer attack to trap the chiefs isn’t going to work here if you’re men can’t storm the palace. And if my calculations are correct, the United Republic air support should be here any minute. You’re just about out of time.”

“And you’ve always been such a gracious guest. I’m sure you won’t mind helping with that.”

Metal chains exploded from the ceiling, reaching down like vines right toward her. She rolled back and out of the way, diving for the exit on the floor that was closing for her. Her leg caught, the metal chain reeling her in as the floor completely closed up on her. She crunched her body up, commandeering one of the chains for herself and adding a little bit of firebending behind it to free herself. Landing on her back, she jumped right back up, coming face to face with more of those black clad fighters she’d encountered on Air Temple Island.

“Sorry. I have another appointment I have to get to,” she growled and spun, a wheel of fire dancing from her hands and onto the floor. The fighters moved and raised their arms to shield themselves. Turning her attention to the metal door on the floor, she ripped it and open and leapt through, airbending guiding her safely to the ground. On the way down, she looked up. The blimp began to move away, back toward the ocean.

She snorted. “He never was a good general.”

Hanyo, if anything, always reminded her of a bad mob boss with too many people under his command that were probably much smarter than him.

Of course, all of what she had said to him was mild conjecture. Did she think the United Republic Airforce was coming? Probably. Did she know? No. If anything, she was expecting him to let her know that he had them in his claws too. She wouldn’t have been surprised. If there was anything Hanyo had under his belt it was influence. His name and money always were his biggest strengths. They were his driving forces.

That was what the Monarchists had clung to at his height almost a decade ago. That had been what was on its way to bring a nation to it’s knees. She went over it in her head sometimes. What Hanyo had at his disposal at the time. A nation in borderline anarchy -- pure anarchy in some cases -- a verified name and bloodline that legitimized and enough people who thought that was enough to make a king. Not to mention the desperate people. The people who were desperate for anybody who would end their suffering.

She understood what that felt like.

-:-:-:-

“What do you mean we’re retreating?”

Namada revealed the blinker in his palm, red light pulsing. “It’s the signal, sis. We’ve got to go. Mission aborted.”

“But we’re so close!” Gurana punched the cavern wall. “What’s wrong? Why do we have to go? Look, we’ll stay and--”

“And be trapped behind enemy lines.” Tikaani said frankly. “We don’t have enough time, apparently.”

“Shut up.” Gurana growled viciously at a stony Tikaani. “This is your fault! You stopped to have that little reunion with your stupid brother and now we’re behind!”

Tikaani raised a brow. “None of us even knew the entrance into the caverns. That was part of the entire plan--”

“Making it all time sensitive--”

“And the girl he was with--” Tikaani went on, ignoring Gurana’s fuming. “Knew the entrance to the catacombs intimately well. It was the shortest route.”

And still not enough time.

All of this, in reality, had been a waste of their time. So much effort and so many resources poured into half hearted attacks that achieved little. A showboat. A peacock eagle’s dance to the world.

All a waste of time.

Gurana glowered at her, eyes flashing with that lack of something. Lack of a few things, really. And all sparks in her mind. “If you had anything to do with this failure,” she seethed. “I swear to the spirits, I’ll--”

“I happen to be on this mission with you. If you hadn’t noticed,” Tikaani interrupted. “And, now, if you’re done we can go before we get left behind. I doubt you would want Lord Hanyo to do that.”

All that fire and spark in Gurana died and she went white. “He would never--”

“She’s right,” Namada put a hand on Gurana’s shoulder. “We need to go before somebody finds us down here and we get put in some prison.”

Gurana, apparently taking all of that into consideration as she stared hard at the ground, clenched her fists. The earth beneath her feet cracked a little. She glared up at Tikaani. “Fine.” she said through gritted teeth. “But if Lord Hanyo asks, this is your fault.”

Tikaani turned on her heel and began to walk back the way they came.

An absolute waste of her damned time.

I am so sorry it's taken almost a year to update. And it's not even a long update, but next chapter should be the last chapter in this arc (if not this one then the one after that) and we can move on to the next part in this story. The highlight of this chapter is definitely Korra and Hanyo talking. Setting up that dynamic, for me, is really important because this is the guy who was the bane of Korra's existence back in the day. He's unlike any of Korra's former villains in that any composure he has is fake and apathetic and it's just such a veil to Korra. She sees right through him and that helps pan out their dynamic going forward.

Once again, I'm so sorry. If you're reading this then thank you! I really appreciate it and I'm so grateful! As always, guys you know that I love those reviews! It really keeps me motivated and keeps me writing and that's something this story definitely needs! Thank you for reading! Tune in for next chapter!

#makorra #kainora #bopal #legend of korra #korra #lok #my fics

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marshmallowgoop · 7 years

Note

Platonic Senketsu/Ryuko fanfic ? ( please ? )

I’m not sure if this is a request for fic recommendations or a request for a fic, so…

If you’re looking for the former, I made a list for Senketsu fic recs a while back, of which most are platonic Ryuko/Senketsu stories.

I also include a lot of platonic Ryuko/Senketsu stories in my own fic, Strings and Threads, a collection of Kill la Kill short stories. Any romantic Ryuketsu will be labeled with “Ryuketsu” there; the rest is platonic.

If you’re looking for the latter, well. I’ve been working on a platonic Ryuko/Senketsu story that might be of interest, maybe?

Title: comfortable

Fandom: Kill la Kill

Summary: A trip to the movies becomes something more.

Notes: Author’s notes/commentary for this story can be found here.

[AO3] [FFNET]

It all begins on July 7th, with a romantic space adventure.

The movie was Senketsu’s idea, ‘cause somehow—and it wasn’t any fault of hers—Ryuko’s ridiculous uniform got it in his ridiculous head to find the trailers intriguing.

Like, intriguing-enough-to-warrant-a-trip-to-the-theater intriguing.

And Senketsu didn’t just want to go as a joke, either. He was stone-cold, dead serious. Some sappy, insufferable love story between an alien and a human that those damn promos and TV spots couldn’t stop overhyping got him all starry-eyed in a way that Ryuko thought only a good ironing could do, and he was completely unapologetic about his excitement, eagerly gushing on and on and on.

And, well, Ryuko wasn’t gonna rain on Senketsu’s parade (he just hasn’t seen enough movies to know any better, she told herself), but if she were being honest, she was absolutely, utterly convinced that no one else in the entire world wanted to see the corny mess. Even Mako of all people passed up on it.

But beyond Ryuko’s most out-there, nonsensical, wildest expectations, Satsuki agreed.

Satsuki Kiryuin.

“I think it looks quite sweet,” Satsuki said, when Senketsu inquired about the cheese-fest while out on one of their shopping extravaganzas. She smiled his way—that-too-nice-for-Satsuki kinda expression that Ryuko’s still getting used to—not even hesitating as she declared, in no uncertain terms, “I would love to go with you, Senketsu.”

Ryuko right choked on her ice cream at that.

Senketsu couldn’t have been happier.

(But he tried very hard not to let it on, the obnoxious outfit.)

Still, even if the thought of her own flesh-and-blood sister having such terrible taste made Ryuko die on the inside a little bit, she put it on herself to see the best of the situation. She was stuck going to the theater with Senketsu no matter what—God knows (if there is a God, of course) that Ryuko would endure ten trillion times worse than a shitty movie to see Senketsu happy—but at least with Satsuki tagging along, Ryuko would have someone else to keep her company, too.

There would be no way that Ryuko’s very own big sis could think such a ridiculous, gooey, feel-good sap trap was any good at all once they were actually there in the theater.

No way in hell.

On the sunny, balmy afternoon of July 7th, Ryuko is wrong.

Very, very, very wrong.

Well, actually, Ryuko tells herself, as the three of them exit the dark theater, the movie was just as bad as she had expected. (Maybe even worse, if she were telling the truth.)

But she certainly, definitely didn’t expect the absolutely nauseating gushing that Senketsu and Satsuki got up into as soon as the credits rolled.

Heck, how they even kept paying attention past the first fifteen minutes is well beyond her understanding, but as soon as Ryuko comes face-to-face with the overly-bright, too-hot reality of summer in Japan, she can’t try to deny the sickening, horrible truth a second longer.

Satsuki and Senketsu didn’t just like the movie.

They loved it.

And they’d spent the last who-the-hell-knows-how-long spouting out nothing but praises and overeager blubbering, and they’re not stopping. They’re standing out in broad daylight and walking down the sidewalk talking their mouths off about the most embarrassing movie to hit the theaters in ten million years.

Ryuko half-considers tossing the last remnants of her Calpis over herself just to get them to yap about something else.

But she doesn’t.

And on they go.

On and on and on.

“If I saw it again,” Senketsu says, after spilling out a whole stream of I know, I know!s, “I still wouldn’t be able to keep myself from crying when the pair parted in Australia!”

He blinks movie-theater darkness from his eyes, staring up at Satsuki, who nods her head. “I didn’t cry, but I got awfully close,” she admits. “The scene was ruined a little by the night sky. There would be no way you could see those constellations at that time of year in Australia.”

Senketsu just about leaps right off of Ryuko’s chest at that. “I was thinking the same!” he cries. He’s as bubbling with excitement as he would be after the best damn ironing in the world, and he pushes Ryuko to walk a bit more quickly so that they can keep up with Satsuki’s always-too-fast pace.

Ryuko only begrudgingly follows his lead, sipping those final bits of Calpis from her cup as obnoxiously as she can.

Neither Senketsu nor Satsuki make any note of it.

“The inaccuracy wasn’t enough to pull me out of the moment,” Senketsu goes on, now right beside Satsuki, “but it was a bit glaring.”

Satsuki nods some more in agreement, and if Ryuko weren’t so fed up over a silly movie, she might have found something amusing or funny or nice about how thoughtful Satsuki is over a thing she enjoyed.

Maybe even something sweet.

But now Ryuko’s just tired and it’s not so amusing or funny or nice or comfortable to be ignored by your clothes and your sister, and she only feels her irritation build inside her as Satsuki continues, “You would think the filmmakers would do more research for such a big-budget film!”

Satsuki shakes her head, frowning a bit, clutching her bag a bit tighter. “And there is also no way that robot could have moved so easily in the sand,” she adds. “It was shaped like a soccer ball.”

“And practically all of Earth’s satellites orbit the planet west to east, not east to west!” Senketsu and Satsuki say together.

They both break out laughing.

Ryuko throws away her empty cup into the nearest trash bin with a grimace.

“I had no idea you were so interested in astrophysics and astronomy, Senketsu,” Satsuki says. She’s now smiling a very strange smile that makes Ryuko just a bit uncomfortable.

Senketsu blushes—at least, Ryuko thinks that’s what he does, since she suddenly feels a lot warmer (and she was already hot enough to begin with in this 500-degree weather).

“Well, y-you know,” Senketsu tells Satsuki, “Ryuko and I have both been to space. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

And Satsuki just won’t quit it with that smile. Ryuko swears it’s only getting worse. Weirder.

“You should take a look at some of the books in the Kiryuin library,” Satsuki says. There’s that overeagerness to her tone that’s almost as uncomfortable as the ever-increasingly-uncomfortable look on her face, and she smiles a bit wider, adding, quickly, excitedly, “I think you would particularly like—“

And Ryuko can’t help herself. She groans.

“Jesus,” she whines. “If you wanna yap about this stuff so much, I don’t think I should be the one wearing Senketsu!”

And they all stop walking. Right there. Just like that.

An awkward silence falls over the three of them, and in retrospect, maybe Ryuko would admit that she maybe sounded a bit too fed up and pissed off.

But at the time, Ryuko feels more than justified in her outburst. Being dragged along in a conversation by your damn clothes isn’t exactly what she would call a good time.

Or comfortable.

But Senketsu hardly seems to mind the abrasiveness of Ryuko’s words. He just brings his full attention to her, his eyes wide.

“Would it really be okay?” he asks. “For Satsuki to wear me?”

And Ryuko can’t really find the words to answer right away. Senketsu can no doubt feel her heart fluttering, and she’s come to feel very, very, very hot—like, way more than the this-is-summer kind of hot.

But Ryuko eventually takes a deep breath, tryin’ to think a bit before she speaks. “Kamui Senketsu,” she says, using the most chastising mom-voice she can muster (even though she’s well aware that she is not convincing in the slightest), “I thought you finally got it through your head that you ain’t just some outfit.”

She pauses, on fire, and then gently, quietly, she adds, “You got a will all your own, Senketsu. You’re your own person.”

They’re still stopped in place. Senketsu can’t stop staring up at Ryuko, and Satsuki is staring, too.

Ryuko bites down on her lip, turning away. “And grown people don’t go around asking other grown people for permission to be with a grown person who ain’t them,” she continues, hastily, face flushing. “Well, at least, they shouldn’t! So you shouldn’t be askin’ me any of this.”

Nobody says anything. They stay standing obtrusively on the sidewalk, and Ryuko can’t help but feel even more embarrassed when she sees that Satsuki’s awkward, uncomfortable smile has shifted into something you’d see plastered on the face of some proud mom at her kid’s violin concert.

But Ryuko doesn’t get too long to fuss over that as Senketsu sighs against her, which she takes immediately as Senketsu-language that he’s gonna disagree with her, or something.

And he promptly does nothing of the sort.

“You’re right, Ryuko!” Senketsu declares. “I should be asking Satsuki if it’s all right!”

So Senketsu looks to Satsuki Kiryuin and the big weird smile that she’s now directing his way (that’s continuing to make Ryuko feel even more uncomfortable), and he asks, very nervously, “What do you say, Satsuki? Would you… wear me?”

Satsuki’s smile only grows. “I would be honored, Senketsu,” she says. “It has been too long. And I—“

Satsuki stops abruptly, meeting Ryuko’s eyes, her icky, uncomfortable smile falling into what Ryuko could only describe as shame.

“And I would love to wear you again,” Satsuki finishes, weakly.

And, well, now Ryuko’s mild (yes, mild) discomfort and annoyance has twisted into the desire to just throw up all the popcorn and Calpis she’d spent the last two hours focusing on rather than the kill-me-now kitsch that was the ridiculous movie she’d overpaid for (even if it was Ladies’ Day, she still always bought a ticket for Senketsu (and the hot mess wasn’t worth even a single yen, if you had to ask her opinion)).

It wasn’t like Satsuki was trying to be a bitch or anything—at least, Ryuko hopes so, anyway. But the reminder of that time just turns and turns Ryuko’s stomach.

She doesn’t let it on.

“Let’s get on with it, then!” she says. “Let’s go change right fuckin’ now.”

“Now?” Satsuki repeats.

“This minute?” Senketsu tries to clarify.

“Right now this minute,” Ryuko insists.

And, okay, maybe she sounds just a little done with them.

But Senketsu and Satsuki agree, however reluctantly.

The three decide to grab lunch at a nearby convenience store, but before they do any of that, they head into the restrooms to change.

Ryuko, for one, is quite glad that no one else is in the facilities when they step inside. Quiet and emptiness meet them in the bathroom (as well as a space that Ryuko has to admit is much cleaner than she would expect from a convenience store).

Ryuko sighs as she enters a stall with Senketsu. Without a word, Satsuki goes into the one right beside her, the door closing with a click.

And Ryuko sighs once more, surrounded by mustard-yellow walls and a gleaming toilet. Though she would never say it out loud—and though she knows she hasn’t even been with Senketsu a year yet—life without him by her side still feels like a gross, distant past, and the thought of walking out of here by herself is… strange.

Uncomfortable.

Ryuko would never say it makes her nervous, though. Never nervous.

Her heart must say otherwise.

“Ryuko…” Senketsu starts, looking up at her with big, concerned eyes.

But Ryuko turns away, pulling him off as aggressively and suddenly as she had the day his memory returned.

She talks fast. “Senketsu,” she groans, “y’know better than to get all chatty in the bathroom. People’ll think we’re doing weird shit in here.”

Senketsu falls to the bathroom floor, leaning up against the wall. “But there’s no one else in here, Ryuko…” he says.

“Whatever!” Ryuko says right back.

She flings open the door and shoos Senketsu out like a little lost child. “Sis,” she says, much more loudly than necessary, “open your door up so Senketsu can get over there.”

Ryuko awkwardly reaches one arm out of her stall, using the other to hold the door close to her (as though to cover herself from anyone who might happen to wander in, but why the hell she gives a shit about modesty anymore is beyond her).

“Also I’m holding my hand out for your clothes,” Ryuko adds. “So, like, just, uh, give ‘em to me, or somethin’.”

“Very well,” Satsuki answers, and very uncomfortably, very ungracefully, she successfully passes her clothes into Ryuko’s hands. (Of course, Satsuki’s prissy ensemble almost falls to the ground what feels like half a dozen times and Ryuko has to stretch her arm out the farthest it’ll go to get to them and there’s a bit of swearing involved, but somehow, they manage.)

And armed with a new outfit, Ryuko retreats back into her stall and locks the door with a frown. Maybe they shouldn’t have done this right now this minute after all. The thought of wearing her sister’s clothes has never seemed so unpleasant—uncomfortable—until she has them in her hands.

“Sats, you dress like such a mom,” Ryuko whines, pulling an ankle-length wrap skirt over herself. Rayon has never felt stranger to her after wearing little but Life Fiber and cotton pajamas for so long.

“And who the hell wears sweaters in the middle of summer?” Ryuko’s barely pulled the cream-colored knit over herself and already she feels hotter than hell.

But Satsuki isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to Ryuko’s complaints.

“Senketsu, you are lovely,” she says to Senketsu instead. “But I do think I’m a little old for sailor uniforms—don’t you think you are too, Ryuko?”

Ryuko’s frown deepens.

“I suppose you are still in high school…“ Satsuki muses.

Ryuko ties the slick white ribbon on the indigo skirt that now covers her into a sloppy bow. “Yeah, I am,” she grinds out. “So, what?”

Ryuko so doesn’t need this kind of patronizing bullshit right now. She fiddles with her sister’s clothes, trying—and failing—to look somewhat presentable. It’s more than obvious that nothing fits her quite right, and the sweater is the worst offender, hanging off her body loosely and awkwardly, the threads bunching up in a manner that’s way uncomfortable.

Deep inside, a part of Ryuko never even wants to leave this stall.

But she’d never let any of those feelings on.

“Do you not wanna wear Senketsu anymore, huh?” Ryuko finds herself asking. A familiar anger bubbles up inside—the kind that’d bring her to strip down to her underwear and take on a gun-toting, even-more-naked guy with just her fists. “I swear, Satsuki. I don’t care if you’re my sister. If you make Senketsu cry, I’ll—“

“And why would I ever do a thing like that?” Satsuki asks.

“I am not so prone to fits of crying!” Senketsu adds. He sounds so damn defensive that Ryuko doesn’t have to be anywhere near him to know that he’s got that hurt, put-upon look on his face.

Ryuko crosses her arms, leaning up against the mustard-yellow wall. “Hmph, excuuuse me for caring,” she says, feeling damn hot in the face, but Senketsu and Satsuki pay her no mind.

“You are an incredible person, Senketsu,” Satsuki is saying. “And I have been thinking. You are certainly more than a mere sailor uniform, so I know you are capable of looking like more, too.”

Senketsu stutters. “I-I…” he says, and though Ryuko can’t see, she imagines Satsuki giving him one of her uncomfortable, weird-o smiles.

“If we do something like Life Fiber synchronization,” Satsuki goes on, “then I know you can become whatever you like. Whatever suits you.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Senketsu says. His voice trembles in a way that Ryuko has hardly ever heard coming from him, and for some reason, it all makes Ryuko feel like she’s melting even more in this unseasonal sweater.

But she’d never say anything.

“I know you can do it,” Satsuki tells Senketsu. “Let’s try!”

“All right, Satsuki!” Senketsu says.

And before Ryuko knows it, together, as one, Senketsu and Satsuki shout out, “Life Fiber Synchronize!,” their words seeming to echo across the empty, desolate space around them.

And Ryuko sinks down to the bathroom floor (that probably isn’t quite as clean as she thought it was coming in) at the sound, letting her head fall against wall, wishing more than anything to tear this suffocating sweater off.

But she doesn’t.

And they laugh. Senketsu and Satsuki laugh more intensely than Ryuko even thought possible for the two of them.

“You look great!” Satsuki cries, when the laughter falls away. “This is exactly something I would put in my closet. How did you know?”

Senketsu can’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “I just gave it my best!” he says. “I saw what you gave Ryuko, and I thought, “If any ordinary clothes can look like that, then why can’t I?””

The stall beside Ryuko opens with a creak, and Ryuko hears her sister rush out with Senketsu, calling her name with that overeagerness that just serves to make Ryuko feel even surer that she’d love to never leave this stall.

But Satsuki insists. “You must see this,” she says. “Senketsu has done a fantastic job.”

“We did a fantastic job, Satsuki,” Senketsu butts in. “Remember, you are the one wearing me.”

So with a groan and a grumble, Ryuko rises to her feet, brushing down on Satsuki’s skirt and sweater and slowly, embarrassingly opening the stall door to reveal a sight that boggles the mind almost as much as the fact that human evolution was literally a thing just because of clothes aliens that wanted to eat them all.

Because her Senketsu… no longer looks like her Senketsu at all.

The outfit her sister wears before her is entirely foreign. Gone are the midriff-baring top, the suspenders, and mini skirt, replaced with a frilly, baby-blue button-up and a cozy-looking circle skirt in gray.

Ryuko wouldn’t even believe that the sight before her was her Senketsu at all, had she not looked towards the elaborate, floral pattern embellishing Satsuki’s collar and noticed, without a doubt, Senketsu’s warm eyes staring back at her.

She swallows very hard, feeling her face turn very, very red.

Satsuki smiles Ryuko’s way. “You ought to try this yourself sometime,” she says.

But Ryuko can only nod, dully, as Senketsu and Satsuki skitter to the bathroom mirrors and laugh and spin in front of the glass, complimenting each other and gushing about their teamwork.

In her head, Ryuko would admit that, well, okay, sure, maybe it is a bit jarring to hear Senketsu’s voice coming from somewhere other than her.

But she would never, ever admit that what leaves her firmly Not Hungry is the strange smile on her sister’s face and how Senketsu and Satsuki just can’t shut up. They’d gone right back to talking about that damn movie again, blathering on and on about this and that and how romantic!

Ryuko could hurl.

Somehow, though, Ryuko manages to at least nibble on her yakisoba-pan.

Then again, never in her life has convenience-store yakisoba stuffed in a hot dog bun tasted as bad as it does right now, as she sits next to Satsuki and Senketsu in the park and they act like some half-baked love story is worth more than a one-word review that just says, “Sucks.”

‘Course, Ryuko thinks, spending so long chewing the ends of a noodle that it quickly just tastes like mushy nothingness, Senketsu would tell her—all smugly and condescendingly—that it’s better to not eat much of this stuff. Junk food, he’d say. How can you expect to keep up your strength with that?

Least, he would say all that crap, if she were the one wearing him.

Ryuko sighs. It’s still summer and hot and sticky (and she’s still stuck with Satsuki’s sweater), but even she could admit that it’s a fine enough day. The sky is a rich, deep blue, the way the sun filters through the leaves is so picturesque that if Mako had come along she’d beg to take about a hundred photos, and sitting here in the shade surrounded by all this niceness—with a cool breeze fluttering by that should keep her from getting too overheated—would normally be great. Any other day, any other time, Ryuko would love to be where she is, eating cheap-o convenience store food with Senketsu and Satsuki beneath the trees.

But now, well. Now she’s never felt sicker. The yakisoba-pan seems to taunt her with its smell and pitiful, this-stuff-was-made-really-fast appearance, and it’s only when a bit of yakisoba slips from its bun and falls to the ground with a heavy splat that Senketsu and Satsuki take any note of Ryuko at all.

Senketsu looks her up and down at the noise (abruptly cutting off some conversation about space and time and love and who-knows-what).

“Ryuko,” he says, his voice filled with the kind of concern that makes Ryuko feel even more ready to just vomit all over the place, “are you all right? You’ve barely touched your food.”

More yakisoba drips from the bun to the ground, and Ryuko watches it fall, making absolutely no attempt to get it to stop. The cicadas are screaming and flies make their way to the dropped food, and, quietly, Ryuko stands herself up.

“It’s shit,” she says. Her voice is surprisingly calm for how much she wants to scream along with the cicadas, and as she makes her way to the nearest garbage can, she wonders when in the world she got this kind of self-control.

Ryuko stops before the bin. “I don’t want this crap,” she goes on, and without any feeling at all, she watches as the yakisoba-pan falls apart in the trash, the yakisoba spilling every which way, breaking away from the bun.

Ryuko takes her place back on the bench beside Satsuki and Senketsu. Satsuki frowns. Ryuko ignores it.

“I thought you’d like that I’m not eating that stuff,” she says. Ryuko meant to direct the words at Senketsu, but, well, actually, it probably applies to the both of ‘em.

Satsuki really didn’t like hearing about all the Cup Curry Rice and instant miso soup she ate before she lived with the Mankanshokus, after all…

And now, Satsuki just frowns harder—and it’s harder for Ryuko to ignore it—her caterpillar eyebrows furrowed in Concern. “Ryuko,” she starts, “are you—“

“I just wanna head home,” Ryuko blurts out. She supposes it’s true, but that doesn’t stop the blush creeping over her cheeks. “I-I mean,” she stutters, “it’s just been a long day, and I’m, uh, like really tired, and, uh…”

Satsuki stands with a graceful flourish and swish of Senketsu’s now long, gray skirt. “I see,” she says. “I suppose it is getting a bit late. I’d best return Senketsu to you, shouldn’t I?”

Satsuki’s sweater might as well be eating Ryuko alive. “Jesus,” she grumbles, looking away. “Senketsu ain’t fuckin’ mine. I don’t own ‘im. It’s Senketsu’s choice to do whatever he wants.”

Ryuko lets her eyes meet his, for just a moment. “Right, Senketsu?”

Satsuki’s blue top looks very suddenly a bit pink. Ryuko tries very hard to smile, though she’s not really looking at Satsuki and Senketsu anymore, and her effort probably just comes out seeming kinda fucked up and demonic.

“Look,” Ryuko says, standing up again herself, cracking her back as though she’s toootally cool with this whole situation (which she is, of course, definitely, absolutely, why wouldn’t she be?). “You two’re havin’ so much fun, so why don’t you stay with Satsuki for a change, Senketsu?”

The words fall out before Ryuko can even stop herself, and both Senketsu and Satsuki stare at her wide-eyed.

Well, Ryuko would be happy to join her fallen yakisoba and the screaming cicadas right about now.

But she can’t stop it with the incessant, worthless blubbering. “Y-Y’know,” she says, trying very hard—and failing even harder—to hide the twitter in her voice, “I was just thinking about how nice it’d be to spend some time away from obnoxious outfits!”

Satsuki and Senketsu exchange worried glances.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Senketsu asks.

“I don’t need ya babysitting me!” Ryuko says—well, shouts, more like, which just serves to make Satsuki’s frown become even more intense.

Ryuko sighs, and more quietly, more calmly, she adds, “’Sides, you should be askin’ Satsuki if it’s all right, not me.”

So up Senketsu’s eyes go, to his wearer. “Would you mind if I stayed the night with you?” he asks.

“Not at all,” answers Satsuki. “But—“

Ryuko claps her hands together. “Well, I am just so glad we got that figured out!” she says. Her attention falls to the baggy, ill-fitting ensemble dripping off her body. “I’ll return these mom-clothes to ya when we meet up again.”

Satsuki doesn’t even react to Ryuko’s insults. She says, “Are you sure—“

But Ryuko storms away without waiting to hear the rest, waving a hand behind her.

“You guys just have fun,” she says, even as she hears Senketsu call her name and Satsuki mutter something or other that she can’t especially make out.

And, okay, sure. The walk back from downtown has never seemed so long.

Fine. Ryuko would admit that much.

Slouching and dragging her feet along the sidewalk, Ryuko keeps herself distracted by kicking along pebbles and listening for the click, click, clicks as they hop across the pavement. Whenever she loses a pebble to the grass or the streets, she picks out another on her path to hit along instead. Ryuko never seems to hold on to a stone for more than fifteen sidewalk squares, and maybe another time that’d annoy her, but she’s got more than enough eating at her now.

It’s not that she’s jealous, of course, Ryuko thinks. Satsuki just doesn’t know how to wash Senketsu right and ain’t got a clue about how he likes to be ironed and maybe Satsuki would hurt herself wearing Senketsu for so long in that weird state because Senketsu was designed for her after all and she’s just concerned, okay?

Ryuko loses another pebble on her walk. This one can’t even have lasted five sidewalk squares, and she pauses on her way, groaning, trying to find another.

But it seems this sidewalk is fresh out of pebbles, and Ryuko ain’t got anything even close to the patience or energy or care to go pick out the one she lost to the grass.

So she’ll just deal with it, she thinks. If Senketsu and Satsuki come cryin’ back to her in the morning, then she could at least say that they’d tried.

Ryuko almost-smiles at the thought. Things are gonna be okay. It’s not like Senketsu is gonna…

Well, Ryuko doesn’t get the chance to ponder anymore on that. Seemingly out of nowhere, she’s attacked with a loud, energetic, over-peppy shout from none other than Mako Mankanshoku.

“Lady Satsuki!” the girl cries. She promptly throws down the yellow sponge she’d been using to clean the family car and rushes to where Ryuko stands, her arms outstretched for a hug.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming to visit!” Mako goes on, but her smile quickly falls as she gets a better look at the very not-Satsuki Kiryuin with the too-big, uncomfortable clothes and ordinary eyebrows and wild hair that will never sit flat, no matter how hard you might try.

“Oh, it’s you, Ryuko,” Mako says, frowning a bit. “Why’re you all dressed up like Satsuki? Where’s Senketsu?”

Ryuko feels her stomach churn. She barely even ate that yakisoba-pan, but she might just throw it all up right now.

She doesn’t.

“Oh,” she says, trying very hard to sound casual, but Satsuki’s clothes don’t have pockets or even little pouches like Senketsu does, so she can’t oh-so-nonchalantly fiddle with something as though the conversation they’re having is no big deal at all (which it isn’t, of course, why would it be?).

She ends up rolling up the sleeves of Satsuki’s sweater, like she’s getting ready for a fist fight. “Well, Senketsu n’ Satsuki just decided to hang out a little while longer, that’s all,” she explains.

And Ryuko smiles, sort of, melting in this horrible sweater more than ever.

And Mako’s mouth falls wide open.

“You mean that Satsuki is wearing Senketsu?!” she bursts out. “Are you sure that’s okay, Ryuko?”

Ryuko flushes, turning her head away from Mako. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks. “Senketsu is his own person, you know.”

Mako can’t stop looking at her funny, but eventually nods her head sagely. “Okay, Ryuko,” she says, very matter-of-fact, very knowingly. “Your secret is safe with me!” She winks, offering Ryuko a wide-toothed grin, but now it’s Ryuko’s turn to have her own mouth fall open.

“My what now?” she gasps. “Mako, don’t tell me that you still think that Senketsu n’ me—“

“It’s okay, Ryuko!” Mako repeats, patting Ryuko on the back as they walk towards their home. “You don’t have to hide anything from me!”

Ryuko sighs. It’s still one ear and out the other with this family sometimes, but she supposes she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Why don’t I help you with the car?” Ryuko asks, smiling for real now. “It’s… partly my fault that it’s all covered in blood, after all.” (Only partly, though. It’s not her fault that overpass bridges aren’t nearly as high as they should be.)

Mako nods her head eagerly, handing Ryuko an oversized sponge.

Okay, but maybe there’s still something that’s just kinda-sorta odd as hell about changing into pajamas at night and not hearing a peep from Senketsu.

Ryuko steals a glance at the bathroom mirror before going to wash Satsuki’s clothes. Her hair’s just as all-over-the-place as ever, and, feebly, Ryuko brings a hand to her head to push the wild strands down.

It all just fluffs back up again in moments.

Of course.

It’s not like Ryuko would like her hair all flat and silky and refined like Satsuki, though. No way in hell. She’s not that boring, and it’s not her fault if Senketsu’s so boring that he prefers the boring-boringness of Satsuki Kiryuin over her.

Unlike that sister of hers, Ryuko doesn’t have some stick up her ass and isn’t some lame-old fine lady who drinks tea and acts all proper-like and you can tell that even from her hair and…

She’s not jealous, okay?!

Ryuko rushes out from the bathroom with Satsuki’s clothes clutched too tightly in her hands, her fingers digging into the fabric and threads. She scrambles over to the wash tub and throws the garments down more furiously than she should, and fills the basin more viciously than she should, and adds more of Mrs. Mankanshoku’s laundry detergent than she should, and when she goes to scrub out all her sweat and stench, she scrubs much more aggressively than she should, too.

If it were Senketsu she were washing, he’d be screaming and crying at her to “be gentle!” and to “quit it!,” but these clothes say nothing and Ryuko’s just fine with that!

But when Ryuko hangs Satsuki’s too-big, ugly sweater and prissy, ankle-length skirt to dry on the line, and when she heads to bed, there’s an odd sensation that overtakes her, one that she can’t especially explain. It’s a bit out-of-body, a bit surreal, a bit uncomfortable, and when Ryuko pulls her polka-dotted blanket over herself, a part of her hopes that it has only been a dream, this entire atrocity of a day. She’d wake up in the morning and look to the wardrobe and there wouldn’t be an empty hanger anymore and…

And what the hell is her problem, anyway? She’s not five years old anymore, Ryuko tells herself, calling her dad from her dorm every night and twisting that damn phone wire ‘round and ‘round her fingers as he doesn’t pick up. She’s not fifteen anymore, listening to punk-ass bitches she woulda swore were on her side talking shit about her (and going outta her way to break more noses than anyone probably should).

But when Ryuko pulls her sheets completely over her head, to cover herself in total darkness, to hide away from her family and a shadowed wardrobe and abandoned hanger, sleep still only comes to her in short, nightmarish fragments full of Maiko Ogure and Fight Club and dinners all alone.

On July 8th, long before morning, Ryuko wakes with her heart racing and her body slick with sweat, and she sits up quickly, holding a hand over her mouth.

Her pajamas stick uncomfortably to her skin, but it’s not nearly as uncomfortable as the horrible ache in her stomach. That yakisoba-pan’s getting to her, or maybe it’s the Calpis, or the popcorn, but whatever it is, Ryuko needs the toilet.

Now.

She hurries to her feet, careful to step around her family’s sleeping forms as she hops straight to the bathroom, where she promptly throws on the lights and shoves her head over the toilet bowl.

Her mouth falls open. She coughs and gags, and hardly keeps herself quiet. However selfish it is, nothing else matters right now besides getting this shit out of her.

But nothing comes. Ryuko’s stomach feels ready to explode, but nothing comes.

With a groan, she leans away from the bowl, unsure if she should sit around here and wait for the inevitable vomit flood or try to sleep again, but she pauses as she catches her reflection in the water.

She nearly screams, too, when she sees the white gloves that have covered her hands.

“No…” Ryuko mumbles, shooting up to her feet.

But the cracked, murky bathroom mirror confirms everything. Her hair is even wilder than usual, spiking up unnaturally—so much so that no amount of pressing down or water or hell, even gravity could tame it—and it’s streaked with red and blue, adorned with twisted silver that juts out from her scalp.

And it laughs at her. Her entire appearance laughs at her.

“Come on, Ryuko…” her reflection says. It has the most shit-eating grin on its face, and its eyes are wild and manic, the lids painted scarlet. “Did you really think he would want to stick with you?”

It laughs some more, and Ryuko backs away. She leans against the wall, pulling at the blue-edged collar that brushes uncomfortably against her cheeks, but it’s stuck, stitched on, and this time, no amount of tearing or snapping seems to get it to budge.

The expression in the mirror darkens. “You’re so damn annoying,” it says. “Actin’ all high n’ mighty, like you can jus’ get away with anything you want ‘cause you think you deserve it.”

Ryuko stops struggling. Her reflection glowers. “But here’s the thing, princess. You can’t erase what you did.”

It smiles once more, and Junketsu only seems to hold Ryuko tighter, its fabric pulling her so close that it’s suffocating.

And Ryuko can’t say anything, as her reflection laughs in her face, and Junketsu screams, and the white gloves won’t go away.

And she still can’t say anything, as blood covers the mirror and splatters over her, and she sees in the glass the blurry image of Senketsu drenched in red.

And so it is on July 8th that Ryuko really wakes with Senketsu’s name on her lips.

She only barely manages to keep herself from shouting out, clamping a hand over her mouth before she can make any sound at all.

It’s late—or disgustingly early (Ryuko can’t say she can tell). The house is as quiet as it ever gets, filled with only the distant sounds of the screaming cicadas and the gentle rumble of her family’s snores, and it’s so dark that Ryuko can hardly tell that the hanger perched on the wardrobe is empty.

She pulls her hand away from her mouth, staring down at her blanket, ignoring the uncomfortable, too-hot feeling she has on account of her shit sleep tonight and her shit dreams.

And nervously, twittery, Ryuko bunches and bunches her sheets up in her hands, smiling a little, knowing that any other time, Senketsu would tell her to wear his glove “for protection against the nightmares!” right about now, and she’d say back (like always) that he’s being ridiculous and she doesn’t know where he got it in his head to spout out that kinda crap.

But she’d do what he said anyway. Of course she would. Of course she would.

And of course Senketsu would rather be with someone who never betrayed him and treated him well and Senketsu and Satsuki had even come up with Senjin-Shippu together and that’s something she hadn’t considered and it’s not Senketsu’s fault that she’s terrible and he’s tired of putting up with it, right?

Ryuko shakes her head, falling back into bed. No, no, she thinks, Satsuki and Senketsu can’t possibly get along like she and Senketsu can, of course not, no way, Senketsu was made for her after all, isn’t that right, and after those two spend one night together they’ll realize that—

That what?

Ryuko turns over to her side, facing away from the wardrobe and towards Mako, who sleeps just as heavily as usual. Piles of drool puddle up across Mako’s pillow, and normally, any other day, Ryuko would inch away at the sight of all that spit.

But now, tonight, Ryuko is instead filled with a sense of longing. If only she could get some sleep.

And then she just kinda wants to swear at the top of her lungs at the thought.

What the hell is she sittin’ around moping about? It’s not that she’s jealous or anything petty like that and tomorrow everything will return to how it was anyway and besides there are just ways that things should be and Senketsu being with Satsuki all night isn’t how things should be and Ryuko can’t sleep only ‘cause she’s been horribly amused this whole time ‘cause it’s just so damn funny and there’s a natural order to stuff and—

Okay, maybe that’s not the best way to put it.

She’s just—she’s not jealous, right?

Right?

Ryuko turns over once more, back towards the abandoned hanger glistening in the starlight, and no matter how much she tells herself that it’s nothing and she’s fine and it’s not like that (of course it’s not), she can’t sleep for the rest night, tossing and turning even worse than she did right before she first faced Satsuki all decked out in that piece-of-shit Junketsu.

It’s only when streaks of morning punch her in the face that Ryuko thinks back to her dreams and Junketsu and then Senketsu covered in blood that she knows it’s not jealousy at all, what’s kept her up all night.

But the truth certainly doesn’t make her feel any better, and if she could only get some damn sleep, she’d just stay in bed all day.

Easily.

But at 6:17 AM, Ryuko gives it up. She forces herself out from the warmth and comfort of her sheets—‘cause of course Satsuki would be wide awake at that godawful time in the morning—and she punches in the number of Satsuki’s cell on the phone, pulling the cord with her ‘til both she and the phone are outside.

Cool summer air hits Ryuko’s skin and the sound of ringing hits her ear and she shudders at the thought of figuring out what exactly she’s going to say.

Just seein’ if you survived one night of my obnoxious outfit, she thinks. Just checkin’ up to make sure yer not dead.

The more Ryuko considers, the more ridiculous it all sounds.

The more Ryuko thinks about it, the more uncomfortable everything feels.

But Satsuki picks up before long, gigging incessantly. “This is Satsuki,” she says, still laughing. “Hush, Senketsu! It’s important to keep a proper presence on the phone!”

Well, that certainly doesn’t make Ryuko feel any better. She blanches, clutching the phone wire tight.

“You sound well,” Ryuko says, dully. Faintly, Ryuko hears Senketsu laugh, too, and it takes everything she has to hide the hurt in her voice as she adds, “Senketsu sounds great, too.”

“Oh, yes,” says Satsuki, trying—and failing—to keep her tone level and free of giggles. “We are both doing quite well, Ryuko. And how are you?”

Ryuko doesn’t get a chance to really answer (and it’s not like she would want to, anyway). Satsuki seems to turn her full attention to Senketsu right then, and the phone line is filled with incoherent fuzz and split-off conversations and laughter and Ryuko could really be throwing up now, probably?

But she doesn’t.

“Forgive me, Ryuko,” Satsuki eventually says, after an annoyingly-loud throat clearing. “Senketsu would like to talk to you, but I’m not quite sure about the best way to get him to speak over the phone—“

The line fills up once more with laughter. And fuzz. Tons and tons of fuzz.

Ryuko pulls her head away from the speaker, groaning.

“Okay!” Satsuki says soon enough, very loudly, as though she is far away. “I’ve put the phone against Senketsu. Can you hear him?”

Ryuko scowls. “I can just hear you, actually.”

“Very funny, Ryuko,” comes Senketsu. His voice is still a bit fuzzy, but it’s clear enough that Ryuko can tell that he is in high spirits. There’s a bounce in his tone—the kind he gets when he’s being ironed or when they go flying in Senketsu-Shippu.

And Ryuko didn’t even think it was possible at this point, but her own spirits fall below the ground and straight into the Earth’s core at that. She can’t find anything to say back to Senketsu, standing with the old landline phone held up against her face and her fingers nervously twirling and twirling the coiled wire, her whole body burning hot no matter the chill, early-morning summer breeze that can’t stop hitting her.

Senketsu must notice. Of course he does.

“Are you all right, Ryuko?” he asks, all kindness and worry, and Ryuko can only clench her fist around the phone wire at the sound of it.

“’Course I am,” she says, so loudly that she might-probably be bothering the too-close neighbors whose houses are just about rammed up against her own. “In fact, it was so nice to get a break from your annoying ass!”

Ryuko spits onto the ground, scoffing like she’s about to go fight up against the latest competitor ever. “I think you should stay with Satsuki longer!” she says.

Senketsu is quiet. Ryuko’s heart races in her chest. Well, it is nice to get away from how he can read shit like that so easily.

Not like being distanced really stops him, though, and he says, very Concerned, “Ryuko, are you—“

And Ryuko clutches the phone wire so hard she might just have to invest in a new one again.

“I said you should just stay with Satsuki longer, didn’t I?!”

She doesn’t wait to hear anything more. Ryuko busts back into the house, slamming the phone down with a too-loud huff, her face very red and her heart still beating way too quickly.

If this is the way it’s gonna be, she thinks, it’s completely fine! It’s more than fine! She’s just so incredibly, wonderfully fucking fine!

And maybe Ryuko would just simmer in her complete and total fine-ness, but a knock sounds on the door before she even knows it, startling all her thoughts and leaving her suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s breathing hard and fuming after talking with her clothes on the phone at 6:30 in the morning.

But something tells her that the door is for her, so Ryuko makes her way over, giving absolutely no shits about how her hair must be even worse than usual and giving even less shits about how the strands really oughta be stickin’ up in fifty different directions and she also doesn’t give any shits about how she hasn’t changed out of her pajamas and she definitely, absolutely, 100% doesn’t fucking care about the dark circles that must be drooping off her eyes because she slept worse than garbage and would probably just fall over if she weren’t so fine right about now.

So Ryuko opens the door, looking very much like the trash she slept like, only to see none other than Senketsu and Satsuki themselves.

And she promptly slams the door in their faces.

Satsuki wrenches it right back open. Ryuko scowls.

“You really flew all the way over here?” she asks. She tastes the nasty-ass morning breath in her mouth, and she hopes it smells just as bad as it feels. “What the fuck for?”

Well, that makes Satsuki look quite Exasperated. “What for?” she repeats. “Because of this sight before me!” She gestures up and down at Ryuko, her motions uncharacteristically sloppy and frenzied—but completely-characteristically full of Concern.

Ryuko only feels her irritation grow. “Says the one wearing Senketsu around like that in the middle of the street,” she says, dully.

But neither Satsuki nor Senketsu are really paying any attention to her anymore, quite content with talking among themselves as though Ryuko isn’t even there.

“I told you,” Senketsu is saying, his voice obnoxiously matter-of-fact, like his I’m-only-a-year-old ass really knows more than anyone else, “Ryuko needs someone to keep her in check. It was selfish of me to leave her alone all night.”

Satsuki frowns. Ryuko could spontaneously combust. Mako tells her people have done that at her dad’s “hospital” before. It’s possible.

But she doesn’t.

Satsuki says, “Senketsu, but what if it’s simply the stress of—“

And Ryuko can’t take another word. “I am right fucking here,” she says—well, just-about-screams-to-the-heavens, more like. “You wanna say something about my appearance or whatever the hell else, you can say it to my fucking face! Or blow it out your fucking ass!”

And Satsuki raises one of her giant caterpillar-butt eyebrows at Ryuko at that outburst. “Ryuko, as your older sister, I am just concerned—“

And, well, Ryuko doesn’t wait to any more. She slams the door on the two of them (again), fuming. She would have thought that this patronizing crap was behind Satsuki ever since the two of them had figured out their blood connection, but now she’s half-convinced that this shit has just become even worse: it’s gone from just patronizing to the kind of garbage, over-protective, big-sister, patronizing for your own good crap.

And it’s just made even worse when added on to Senketsu’s already worry-warty self.

And it’s only after Ryuko has stood still for a good few seconds that she notices the entire Mankanshoku family behind her.

“Don’t say anything,” she says, and she storms off into the main room before they even have a chance to stop her, as if she could really get away that easily, grimacing as she catches the sight of Satsuki and Senketsu in the window.

Ryuko slams that shut in their faces, too.

Doesn’t stop them from running their mouths, though.

“Senketsu would like to say that he cares about you very much, Ryuko!” Satsuki shouts, her voice just as loud as it had been when she’d spouted out orders from the top of Honnouji Academy. (Her tone is just as irritatingly commandeering and contentious, too.)

“And Satsuki loves you very much herself!” Senketsu adds.

“We’ll be back in the morning!” they shout together, and though Ryuko doesn’t watch, she hears them fly away, chattering among themselves, and she falls back to her sheets at the sound of it, pulling the covers up ‘til her shoulders.

Well, there’s no way she’s going to school today. No way, no way, no way.

But Mako is in the room in only a moment, peering over at Ryuko with big bug eyes. “Ryuuuuko,” she says, leaning over, her hair brushing up against her neck, “we have to get ready to go or we’ll be late again!”

Ryuko pulls the covers completely over. “I’m sick,” she says. She turns the farthest away she can from Mako, scowling to herself.

“Yeah, heartsick!” Mako cries. With a great huff, she pulls Ryuko’s sheets away and scowls a scowl that could rival Ryuko’s own, refusing to let Ryuko grab back her covers (no matter how much Ryuko’s hands reach over to snatch them back from Mako’s grip).

“Ryuko, you can’t cure your heartache moping around here, so stop it! You’re not gonna win the fight for Senketsu’s heart lying around here on the floor all day!”

Well, that brings Ryuko right up to her feet.

“The what?!” she gasps, hardly keeping herself from falling over.

Mako gets very, very close to Ryuko’s face.

“You heard me!” she shouts. “The. Fight. For. Senketsu’s. Heart!”

Ryuko’s mouth falls open. Her face burns.

Mako can’t stop staring at her with starry eyes.

“Two sisters,” Mako says, dreamily, “torn apart by love! What tragedy! What horror!”

Ryuko could die.

She doesn’t.

“Okay, first of all, there is nothing appealing about that kinda situation,” Ryuko manages to say. “But you’re misunderstandin’ again. It’s not—“

“You don’t have to lie to me, Ryuko!” Mako cries. She drapes a dramatic arm across her forehead, shutting her eyes and leaning over as though the weight of what’s going on is too much to handle.

“I see the way you look at Senketsu!” she says. “I see—“

And Ryuko promptly snatches her blanket back from the distracted Mako and pushes herself right back under them. “I’msickandstayinginbed,” she says, but Mako lifts her up as though she’s nothing, the covers falling away.

“W-what are you doing?!” Ryuko blubbers. She struggles to break free, but Mako’s grip doesn’t let up one bit.

“I’m rooting for you!” Mako declares. “You are going to win this war! I’ll make sure of it!”

Mako brings Ryuko right into the bathroom and plops her flat down onto a chair that seems to have come from nowhere because Ryuko is sure it wasn’t there last night and she’s slept like shit and—

God, all she wants right now is just to sleep.

Ryuko sighs (for what feels like the millionth time in the last 24 hours). “Look,” she starts to say, but she stops pretty abruptly when she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror.

Oh, she thinks. She does look horrible. For real.

Her hair is sticking up in every direction, defying all logic, reason, and, well, that gravity thing. It seems more than impossible to have just woken up like that, but there her hair hangs above her, a frizzy, wild mass of human and Life Fiber and…

Right. Maybe it’s not so weird, being what she is.

Ryuko turns away, quiet. There’s only so much lookin’ at herself that she can stand, especially when her pajamas are crinkled and too tight and falling off at the same time and her face is all red and her eyes are all bloodshot like she’s been crying but she hasn’t been cryin’ not a bit not even a little she hasn’t she—

And Ryuko is quite quickly forced to notice that Mako’s taken a wet brush to her hair. She gasps suddenly, breaking herself away from her thoughts, grimacing as cold water drips down her neck and forehead.

“…and once Senketsu sees how popular you are,” Mako is saying, and Ryuko realizes all at once that she hasn’t heard a word of whatever the heck Mako had been goin’ on about up to this point, “he’ll see just what he’s missing and come running right back! He’ll see that he’s your uniform and only yours!”

“But he’s not,” Ryuko says. The words come out much calmer than she had expected, and even she is surprised by the composed tone she’s taken on. “He’s not mine. He can do whatever he wants…”

Mako pauses in her furious brushing of Ryuko’s hair. “And date anyone he wants?” she asks. “Look deep inside yourself, Ryuko! You don’t want Senketsu with anyone but you and you know it! You have to fight!”

Ryuko feels her hair deflate—and not from Mako’s brushing “Why would I have to do that?” she asks. “It’s his life.”

“But what about your life?!” Mako cries. She stands before Ryuko, placing her hands firmly on Ryuko’s shoulders, squeezing, tight. “Ryuko, you deserve happiness with Senketsu!”

Ryuko pushes Mako’s hands away, her touch gentle. “You’re still misunderstanding,” she says, and then she smiles a little, as much as she can. “Senketsu and I aren’t like that at all.”

“But—“ Mako tries, her eyes very wide, but Ryuko squeezes Mako’s hands now, and the girl quiets.

“We’re not like that,” Ryuko repeats. She stands, and Mako doesn’t try to stop her as she leaves the bathroom, her hair dripping icy water that falls to the floor and across her pajama top, and as she prepares herself for the day.

She’s fine, Ryuko tells herself. There’s no reason to stay in bed. She and Senketsu aren’t anything like that at all, so what reason is there to be upset? To sit around mopin’ all day?

None. No reason at all!

So why is it, Ryuko thinks, as she sits in class that day, and hastily finishes her homework, and unenthusiastically jams food into her mouth at lunch, that she can’t stop thinking of him? Why is it that every classmate that passes her by reminds her of him, and his stupid comfortable fabric, and reminds her of how he isn’t there to talk with her anymore, and to tell her to calm down, and—

Mako’s gasp breaks through Ryuko’s thoughts. It takes Ryuko a moment to realize that the hamburger steak between her chopsticks had fallen right to the ground.

“How horrible!” Mako cries. She frowns at Ryuko, her expression very serious. “Ryuko, you have got to talk to Senketsu!” she pleads. “Otherwise, there will be more unnecessary food death!”

Ryuko scoffs. “Food death?” she repeats. “Aren’t you just going to eat that anyway?”

Mako already has the fallen bit of steak in her hand, and she turns a bit red at Ryuko’s accusation. “T-that doesn’t matter!” she insists, jamming the hamburger steak into her mouth. “You still have to talk to Senketsu!”

“I’m glad to get a break from that obnoxious know-it-all,” Ryuko answers, just as she has been this whole time, poking chopsticks into her smiling tako sausage, but she drops some lettuce and tomato to the ground before lunch is over, and she can’t pay any attention at all to her afternoon classes, no matter how much she knows she ought to be thinking about end-of-term exams.

On July 8th, Mrs. Mankanshoku prepares a bath for Ryuko after dinner, just as she always does.

“Take as long as you like, dear,” she says, extra sweetly, more so than usual, and Ryuko tries very hard to hide her embarrassment.

She just wasn’t hungry, she wants to say. That’s the only reason why she just pecked at her food more than she ate it.

But Ryuko still spends an extra-extra-long time in the bath, drenching herself in the horrible, wonderful stench of cucumber and vanilla, trying to let herself believe that it’d be enough to make her feel better, and to quell her fears, and to allow her to imagine, just for a moment, that she is not alone.

And maybe it would have worked, if Mako hadn’t caught Ryuko returning Mrs. Mankanshoku’s homemade laundry detergent to its proper place.

Mako looks Ryuko up and down then, her eyes catching on Ryuko’s wet hair and the detergent pail still clutched in her hands.

“Ryuko,” she says, very slowly. “What were you doing?”

“Taking a bath,” Ryuko answers. Her grip around the detergent pail tightens. She feels very hot.

Very uncomfortable.

“With Mom’s laundry detergent?” Mako asks. She frowns, only for her eyes to get so big that Ryuko becomes half-convinced that they’ll bug right outta her face.

“Oh. My. God!” Mako cries. She gets very close to Ryuko’s face, that bug-eyed look still very much staying put. “Your love for Senketsu is so strong, you even want to smell like him! How romantic!

Mako’s expression darkens. “How tragic!”

And Ryuko is so exhausted and overwhelmed that she can’t find it in her to even be surprised or offended at Mako’s outburst.

She just stands very still, her hair dripping, her grip on the laundry detergent slipping.

What was she even doing?

Mako takes a hold of Ryuko’s free hand. “Ryuko,” she says, “you have got to fight! Fight for your love!”

Somehow, Ryuko manages to shake her head. “You’ve got it all wrong,” she tells Mako, for what must be the umpteenth time. “It’s just, I’m… I’m part-clothes, right? So who says I even can love, huh? And-and, who says I should even use human stuff in my baths, huh? Maybe I shoulda been usin’ laundry detergent my whole damn—“

And Mako quite abruptly takes Ryuko by the shoulders. “Do you want me to iron you now, too?!” she cries. She’s got a wild, almost manic look to her now, her big brown eyes wider than ever. “Ryuko, listen to yourself! You can’t replace Senketsu by being him! You are Ryuko! You aren’t Senketsu! You have to fight, fight, fight!”

Ryuko looks away. “Fight for what?” she asks.

And Mako looks more than ready to spout on and on about that, but Ryuko’s grip on the laundry detergent just so happens to slip completely right then, and the pail falls to the ground, dumping laundry powder all over the floor.

“Shit,” Ryuko says at the sight, and she groans, and she falls to the ground herself, to pick up the mess she made, but something about that damn tipped-over, rejected laundry detergent pail and the scattered powder brings a sob to her throat, and she clasps a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

Mako softens at the sight, not even hesitating to crouch down beside Ryuko, wrapping gentle arms around her.

“Ryuko,” she says, and there is none of the dramatic flair or fighting spirit in her tone any longer, “you have to talk to him.”

Ryuko dully nods her head. She swallows back her tears, calms her breathing. “Yeah,” she says, quietly. “Yeah. You’re right.”

And shyly, she brings her own arms around Mako, and returns the hug.

It’s not until the late evening that Ryuko sums up the courage to call Senketsu, and she stands a long moment before the phone, her hair now dried, the stench of cucumber and vanilla filling her ‘til she feels sick.

Mako gives her two thumbs up. Ryuko takes a deep breath, reaching her hand for the phone…

And the phone promptly rings as soon as her skin makes contact with the cheap plastic.

Ryuko picks it up, hesitantly. Mako scurries away with a grin.

“Hello?”

There’s silence, and then, quietly, “Ryuko.”

Senketsu. Ryuko can’t help herself. She freezes up at the sound, twirling the phone wire in her fingers.

“Senketsu,” she says, “I…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Ryuko swallows, shuts her eyes. It’s so much different over the phone. She just wishes… she just wishes…

“I’m worried about you,” Senketsu says for Ryuko, filling the space. “Satsuki is, too. We’re going to come over in the morning.”

Ryuko manages a laugh. She acts like it’s a surprise, like she hadn’t heard them declare that they were coming back just this morning.

“Again?” she asks. “You were just here!” She tries to force another one of her lies, that she’d hoped they’d stay away a little while longer no matter what they’d said before, because she was just starting to get used to all the peace and quiet she got without his annoying ass around.

But Ryuko can’t do it anymore, and she’s silent, her mouth dry.

“We have… something to tell you,” Senketsu says, and Ryuko doesn’t get any time to react to that as he shouts a hasty, “Goodbye!” and the line goes dead.

Ryuko takes a long moment before she puts down the phone, and when she finally forces herself to, she does it slowly, quietly, standing horribly still.

It’s only when she sees Mako in the corner of her eye that she grits her teeth together, her hands folding into fists.

“Well,” Ryuko says, much more loudly than needed, “if there was a fight here, I sure got my ass handed to me!”

Mako’s smile falls, and she is uncharacteristically quiet, and she stays that way as they prepare themselves for bed—for sleep that Ryuko knows will never come.

Something to tell you, she thinks.

So, it’s true after all.

Morning takes too long to come.

Ryuko rises as soon as she sees the first glimmers of light, stepping quietly outside to watch the sunrise.

She pushes away the thoughts of Senketsu watching the sunrise with her when she couldn’t get any rest.

She pushes away the thoughts of wearing his glove to bed.

She pushes away the thoughts of sleeping with her hand over her heart, to keep that worry wart satisfied with the sound of her heart.

Ryuko absolutely, positively, most-definitely does not think about any of that shit as scarlet and orange and dandelion-yellow light up the sky, so she doesn’t know why her face is wet when she comes back into the house and why her insides are so twisted up with her real issue here that she can barely breathe.

She wipes her face as quickly as she can muster when she sees Mako already awake.

“You’re up early,” she blubbers, as nonchalantly as she can (which is about as “nonchalant” as a Mako ten centimeters away from an all-you-can-eat buffet).

Mako pays Ryuko’s tone no mind, though. “Of course I’m up, silly!” she says. She seems to want to be whispering ‘cause the rest of her family’s still asleep, but there’s a kind of bubbly excitement in her that has it so she’s just-about shouting. “I have to help you get prettied up!”

“Prettied up?” Ryuko repeats.

“Of. Course!” Mako cries. She takes her hands from behind her back, revealing one of the new frilly outfits she’d gotten on one of their shopping trips.

Mako shakes the fabric with a grin, and Ryuko doesn’t have the chance to say or do anything as Mako grabs her by the hand and rushes her to the bathroom with an over-eager, “Come on!”

Ryuko only manages to escape Mako’s makeover to open the door for Satsuki and Senketsu, but by that time, it’s already too late. Her hair is tied back into two girlish pigtails, and to make her even more of an eyesore, they’re all held up by pink ribbons that match the oversized bows on the frilly, ruffly, pink-and-purple dress drenched in lace that Mako had begged her to put on.

Her entire ensemble also matches her bubblegum-pink lipstick.

“You’re going to wear clothes so cute that Senketsu’ll be green with envy!” Mako had said. “And the rest of you will be even cuter! He won’t be able to resist!”

And, well, Ryuko thinks she must actually look like some ridiculous cosplayer who’s lost her way to her convention—and she’s probably a million times more uncomfortable than a girl in that situation, too—but she pulls open the door for Satsuki and Senketsu in the ridiculous get-up all the same. (And tries very hard to ignore their wide-eyed stares.)

“So, what’s so important that you had to come all the way over here to tell me about?” Ryuko asks, as casually as she can muster, but she knows that she can only sound so casual when she’s wearing an outfit and makeup more fit for a magical girl anime than reality.

And she can only be so casual when she knows that Senketsu has decided to leave her for Satsuki.

For good.

She clenches her fist at the thought.

Satsuki can’t stop with the staring. Neither can Senketsu. He’s a navy blue dress today, not too unlike his usual self (though, being on Satsuki, his fabric falls to her ankles, of course), and his eyes rest on a red scarf that Satsuki has tied around her head as a headband.

“Well, Ryuko,” Satsuki eventually manages to say, averting her eyes oddly, “I think… Senketsu would like to sit down, for this.”

“Well, Senketsu can tell me that himself, can’t he?” Ryuko asks in a huff, but she softens a bit as Satsuki holds out a bag for her.

“I know it’s a bit early,” Satsuki says, “but I made these for you earlier this morning. I hope you like them, and that they’re still warm.”

Ryuko takes the gift with a heavy heart. A consolation prize, huh?

Part of Ryuko wants to be angry at the gesture, but she only feels a mixture of guilt and pity and shame when Satsuki explains, “It’s nothing much, but I thought you would like some homemade yakisoba-pan after the other day.”

Ryuko swallows the lump in her throat as she peers inside and sees the neatest fucking yakisoba-pan she has ever seen—with yakisoba so damn perfectly kept inside the bun!—all enclosed in cutesy-pink food storage boxes that Ryuko would have never, ever fathomed her sister having.

“Thanks, Sis,” she manages to say, and she lets them in, prompting an overly-excited Mrs. Mankanshoku to make them all some tea.

But Senketsu is quick to drop the news before any tea arrives and before Ryuko even has a chance to open up the yakisoba-pan, running his mouth almost as soon as they sit at the table.

“Ryuko,” he says, all nervousness and anticipation and quiet enthusiasm, Ryuko trembling horribly at all of it, hardly even able to breathe, “Satsuki and I wanted to tell you that…”

Senketsu looks up at Satsuki before he goes on. Ryuko is so uncomfortable she can barely believe her Life Fiber-infused heart hasn’t just given up by now.

But it clearly hasn’t, and Satsuki nods her head, and together, she and Senketsu look right at Ryuko as they say, quite matter-of-fact, “We’re dating now.”

And, well, Ryuko is quite silent for a long, long moment.

Satsuki’s cheeks flush. Senketsu sweats.

And then, without any warning at all, Ryuko breaks out laughing.

She doesn’t even know how she has it in her to get such a bombastic sound out of herself on account of her shit sleeping for the last two days, but somehow, loud, shrill laughter pours out of Ryuko, and she pounds her hand on the table, blinking tears from her eyes.

“I don’t see what is so funny,” Satsuki says, sounding hurt.

But Ryuko just keeps laughing through it. “Okay,” she says, amidst giggles, “you’re tellin’ me that-that…” She pauses, more and more laughter spilling from her lips, her chest aching as she wheezes and gasps for air.

“You’re tellin’ me that,” she tries again, still spluttering out laughter, still hardly able to breathe, “that-that-that Satsuki Kiryuin—Satsuki motherfucking Kiryuin—is dating—dating—my Senketsu? That Satsuki Kiryuin and—“

But, well, Ryuko can’t quite go on after that.

That’s right, she thinks. Not her Senketsu. Not anymore.

Ryuko grits her teeth together. She laughs again, but it’s no longer the kind that’s for something funny.

“So, it’s true, huh?” she asks. “You’re-you’re really… pushing me out, huh? Don’t wanna be my uniform anymore, huh?”

Somehow, Ryuko gets up to smiling so hard that her face hurts. “Well, it’s about time!” she says. She leans back, crosses her arms as coolly as she can. “Being my uniform must blow! And-and, I was just thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it was—“

“Ryuko.” It’s Senketsu, his voice carrying none of his annoying, know-it-all sassiness, instead full of sappy, feel-good goo that makes Ryuko feel a million, trillion times worse. Senketsu wouldn’t bother to be an asshole when he’s dumping her ass, of all times he should be an asshole?

She’s just about ready to call him the biggest dick in the world, but Senketsu speaks first, his voice far too gentle, too kind.

“Is that what this is all about?” he asks. “You think I would abandon you?” A bit of laughter comes over him. “After all we’ve been through, Ryuko? Why in the world would I leave you now?”

“Because you’re an obnoxious outfit and it took ya this long to get it through yer head that you shouldn’t bother with someone like me,” Ryuko says—mumbles more like—her face very red, her fake-ass smile long gone, and her eyes very sore.

She fiddles with the ends of the pink ribbon on her frilly bodice, keeping her eyes fixed on the stupid thing. “But it still took ya less time than my dad, so I guess you’re not that out of your mind.”

“Ryuko.” Senketsu has gone right into a somber sort of Seriousness, and it makes Ryuko’s stomach turn and turn. “I would never, ever leave you,” he says. “You know that, right?”

Ryuko is silent. Senketsu sighs.

“Ryuko, Satsuki is my girlfriend, but you—you’re my soulmate.”

Ryuko looks up to see Satsuki nodding her head. “I couldn’t keep the two of you apart if I tried,” she says, with a wink. “You’re “two in one,” remember?”

Ryuko looks away, but even she can’t help the small smile coming over her. “Is-is that so?” she asks.

“It is,” says Senketsu. “Now, why don’t you take that ridiculous outfit off and put me on instead? I can be anything you’d like!”

He looks towards the bag Ryuko’s left on the table. “And you should make it quick! Before the yakisoba-pan get cold!”

“This coming from you?” Ryuko wants to say, but she doesn’t, her entire being overwhelmed with something so strange and new and different that she can’t speak.

But it’s not uncomfortable. None of this is uncomfortable at all.

And okay, maybe Ryuko smiles just a bit and is just a bit glad when Satsuki’s scarf comes her way, and she brings him into her arms, and she wraps him around her neck, just like they’d done when she had sworn on everything that she would bring him back if it were the last thing she ever did.

And when Ryuko finally returns her sister’s clothes, and goes to come back into her own, she thinks that someday soon, she will be too old for sailor uniforms, and Senketsu will be too old to be sailor uniforms, too.

But right now, on the brisk, balmy morning of July 9th, Ryuko is still in high school, and still a teenage girl, and she thinks, she’s going to enjoy that for as long as she can.

And she’s glad, and satisfied, and so damn comfortable, that she doesn’t have to say a word to Senketsu about any of it, as he comes to her, and she comes to him, just as they always had.

#Anonymous #kill la kill #ryuko matoi #senketsu #satsuki kiryuin #mako mankanshoku #writing #strings and threads #replies #goop fic #klk fic #i am so sorry this is literally 2 months old #but i was taking 5ever to finish writing this thing ^^;#i tried to write something 'fun' but...#i don't know how well i succeeded at that ^^;#my brother was like #'if you wanted it to be 'fun' you shouldn't have written it from ryuko's pov'#and like #yeahhh #probably...#anyway #i am feeling so sad rn #because i just told my boss to take me off a work assignment because i know i'm not capable of doing it #and i know it was the right thing to do but...#i just feel so bad #especially because i shoved that awful assignment on one of my coworkers now #so here's a 'fun' fic that i hope is maybe-kinda feel-good...#also senketsu and satsuki's comments are taken like directly from neil degrasse tyson tweets lol #also public restrooms in japan have stalls that go -all the way to the floor-#which is why i had to write that scene in the bathroom that way

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