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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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ataraxia. - ch. 4 [ diluc x reader ]

ch. 4 - adjustment pairing: diluc x gn!reader warnings: mention of injuries, mentions of murder, mentions of familial passing. not beta read. words: ~2.2k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ]

chapter summary: you're not used to company and diluc is awkward. but hey, things are beginning to become normal, right?

a/n: mmm. slow burn. begrudging allies. not much happens in this chapter, but i promise things will speed up soon. :)

for the four days diluc is bedridden, two of which he is able to actually walk around miniscule amounts, the rocking chair in the guest room becomes your dining chair and your lap serves as your dinner table. sure, it's slightly messy, but even diluc, who you can tell likely isn't the one for conversation normally, enjoys your company. despite the walls he puts up, he is still able to hold a conversation.

however, for all the information you reveal about yourself, you learn little about diluc. when you talk about your farm, he's more knowledgeable than the average townsperson, which leads you to believe he grew up near agriculture. however, his formal method of speaking steers you away from such conclusions, unable to pinpoint where exactly the overlap between a farming background and a background of what seems to be an elite overlap.

you are mostly the one talking to him. it doesn't take a genius to realize that he isn't a fan of small talk and would rather just sit in silence, but you wish to know exactly who is taking up the spare bedroom in your house. like a hardboiled egg, diluc fails to crack upon the impact of your words. instead, he expertly maneuvers his way out of any question you might throw at him.

if only he could have maneuvered his way out of the fatui, you think bitterly, irritated with the entire situation at hand. if diluc hadn't gotten himself injured, then you wouldn't be the one dealing with a guilty conscience if you threw him out. curse your parents for instilling basic human morals in you.

however, apart from dropping off books, accompanying him to the bathroom (where you wait outside respectfully, of course), and serving him breakfast and lunch, you don't interact with diluc very often. you find that he's easy to ignore.

once he starts walking, of course, that's a different story. the redhead is tall and his hair is a brilliant vermillion. it sticks out against the soft green grasses like a sore thumb and shines in the light. even in the comfort of your cottage, it stands out against the dull decor, fading paint, and worn furniture. diluc's crutches click against the floor with each step he takes and his presence is no longer quiet.

he's the type to always stay moving, even if his body says otherwise.

once he's comfortable with walking again, diluc interrupts you as you start making dinner. despite sharing the same house, the two of you scarcely speak with nor acknowledge each other out of meal times, so the sudden noise of his voice causes you to jolt in shock.

"may i help you cook?" diluc asks. after you get over your initial scare, you realize that his words didn't sound like much of a question. the words are more of a formality than anything and you realize that he will not let this go until you say yes. which, of course, you don't, because you're not allowed to let some stranger come into your house and order you around, even if it would ease your workload.

"go sit back down," you urge and you hear diluc sigh as he realizes that you aren't going to budge either. despite your order, he lingers, the corners of his lips twitching with annoyance. of course he's not going to budge either, you think. asshole.

so, in response to his stubbornness, you decide to throw it back in his face.

"are you saying my cooking is bad?" you challenge and diluc's eyes widen as his uninjured foot shifts backwards slightly. despite his balancing act on crutches, diluc still manages to take a step back at your challenging tone.

"what? no. i'm not," diluc backtracks his words and you feel slightly bad at the way he sounds on edge, but you weren't about to have this borderline stranger interrupt your cooking when he needed to rest.

"then go sit down." you say and diluc, surprisingly, folds and walks over to the dining table where he once lay just a few days ago. you glance over as he sits down in a chair and he stares at you, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. you pause your cooking and stare back. unlike usual, diluc is the one to break the silence.

"why did you save me?" diluc's question is abrupt. you swirl the wooden spoon in the pot in front of you while attempting to think of an answer.

"dead bodies are a pain to deal with," you respond as you take the spoon out of the dish and tap it on the side to remove any excess liquid. diluc lets out a soft huff of amusement at your words, yet that fails to ease the current resentment you hold towards him.

"is that all?" diluc asks. you look over at him once more with raised eyebrows as you drop the spoon into the small pile of the day's dirty dishes.

"do you not believe me?" you say, yet your voice lacks the embittered tone from earlier. you can't blame diluc if he doesn't. you barely believe anything he says to begin with.

"i am just curious as to your answer," diluc says. you can tell it pains him to watch you prepare dinner without any assistance from him whatsoever, yet he can leave his heroics for another time.

if you were being honest, you didn't quite know the answer to his question yourself. sure, you could pull a half-baked lie out of your ass about how you could 'never let someone suffer' if you saw them in the condition he had been in. it would be honorable to have such notions, but you had never been the type to play hero. after life had handed you such an awful fate, you could take what semblance of normalcy you could get.

and yet, you had thrown it all away on a rainy day to save a man you had never interacted with before. you had thrown away your safety. if the fatui were to find the two of you, your throat would be slashed and your body would never be found. you would die not the death of a hero, but the death of a fool.

you look back down at the pot of food in front of you, watching as the soup boils and bubbles within. why had you saved diluc? on that fateful stormy day, why had your roughened heart softened to let in a man who seemed to be more trouble than he was worth? you weren't honorable. you would never be. you couldn't be.

the timer you had set earlier, mechanically ticking away next to the heated pot, dings, signaling the dish's completion. it snaps you out of your thoughts and you blink as you remember where you are. wordlessly, you extinguish the fire that fuels the stove and take a step back, allowing the soup to cool.

"when i find the answer," you say slowly, voice far softer. "i'll be sure to let you know."

---

the air has a light breeze to it, making the typical morning chill just a bit fiercer than usual. you slip on a coat for that reason and depart your bedroom. you glance at the closed door to the spare room. by now, it was no longer an extra bedroom. rather, diluc would be its sole occupier for the next several months.

today marks ten days since diluc made his rather unceremonious arrival to your doorstep. it also marks the first day since the two of you came to an agreement about diluc's living situation for the foreseeable future. you had agreed, like a damned fool, to let him stay for the next several months. worst of all, you had offered.

the conversation had been short. the redhead had offered to pay rent. you declined. the redhead then insisted on paying rent. you declined once more, albeit more harshly. the two of you came to a begrudging agreement. you wanted nothing in return, while diluc wanted to reward your hospitality. therefore, you two had decided that diluc would pay for groceries

you provided him with the ideal hiding place. a worn down little farm was no fit for a man of his status. you still weren't sure who he was, but claymore wielders weren't exactly those born into unaffluent conditions. it was a peculiar choice of weapon, therefore typically only used by those who could afford both the training and the heaping chunks of metal that claymores required.

plus, his manners were impeccable, aside from his insistence on trying to repay his weird debt to you or whatever he told himself. to you, diluc owed you nothing. as long as you made it out of this situation alive, you wouldn't care. and if you didn't live? who cares? you would be dead.

it's not like there was anyone to cry over the death of the little isolated farmer in the fields of fontaine.

you snap out of your daze as diluc's door creeps open. he wears the only spare outfit you had that would fit him. an old, blank white shirt. he wears the pants he arrived in, albeit with the leg cropped severely on one side to accommodate for his cast that now traverses the entire expanse of his leg.

it's rather ugly, if you say so yourself.

"i'll pick you up clothes the next time i head to the market," you blurt and diluc stares at you, still half-asleep and struggling to comprehend your words.

"good morning to you too," he responds, completely unenthused. you stare unapologetically at him. you probably should have greeted him, yet it's too late to backtrack.

"there's food in the pantry," you tell him, before walking to the hall closet and taking out your worn work boots. "i will be off the premises today. if somebody finds you, you're the only one that lives here. got it?"

diluc nods and you walk down the hall, entering the kitchen once more. you sit down at the dining table, perched sideways on one of its chairs and shimmy on your shoes. diluc follows after you and hovers, watching from the hallway entrance as you get ready to leave.

diluc parts his lips as if he wants to say something, yet can't figure out the words. you let out a sigh as you decide to indulge him, even though you don't really care about whatever he has to say to you. if it was important, he would say it.

"what?" you ask, standing up and smoothing out the fabric of your pants.

"could i request something additional from the grocery?" diluc asks and you look at him blankly.

"you're the one paying for the groceries," you remind him. "so, uh, yeah."

diluc glances away from you, cheeks flushing slightly. "i would appreciate if you could pick up some grape juice."

"grape juice?" you ask, slowly. an odd request from a man who is ripped to the high heavens, yet you have realized that diluc himself is an odd man. stoic and reserved, yet odd nonetheless. "sure. got a brand preference?"

diluc's vermillion gaze snaps upward to meet your eyes, who look at him with absolute disinterest. somehow, this seems to calm his slight embarrassment at asking for such a childish beverage.

"dawn winery, if they sell it," diluc responds before glancing over once more.

"dawn winery?" you echo and diluc looks slightly nervous at your interrogation. "isn't that like... super expensive?"

"oh," diluc responds. "i can afford it."

you stare at him. maybe you should have charged him rent if he can afford that overpriced, not very good grape juice.

"got it," you confirm, still slightly weirded out by his awkwardness over the whole thing. "anything else?" you shuffle over to the doorway and glance back over your shoulder, patting your coat pocket to ensure the bag of mora was tucked in your pocket.

diluc clears his throat.

"return safe, okay?" his order is softly spoken. you nod.

"i'll try," you say and slip out of the door. it was just a simple grocery run. if anything was going to threaten your safety, it would be staying in the house with diluc. after all, the fatui couldn't accuse you of anything if you weren't caught in the house alongside him.

for a man who had multiple broken bones, diluc was rather worried about people that weren't him. you didn't quite understand it but, despite the way his righteousness and self-sacrificial attitude bothered you, you found yourself admiring it. such a personality would result in statues being made of him, should his heroism actually be vocalized.

yet somehow, the honorable prince that diluc was a few steps (and non-broken bones) was somehow relying on the humble farmer for survival. you only hope it won't bite him in the ass.

but, most of all, you only hope that you won't grow attached.

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#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc #genshin impact #//ataraxia #axia's writing

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p-artsypants · 3 years

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The Ghost of Smokey Joe (4)

You’ve Got Me VooDoo’d

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

“Have either of you talked to Adrien lately?”

Nino scoffed from his place on the couch. “You mean Mr. Roboto? Yeah, he’s been a blast. What did you do, Marinette?”

“Me?! I didn’t do anything!”

“Well he wasn’t this weird until your failed date night.”

“I know that! And I also know that I did nothing wrong!” She scolded.

“Mari’s right,” said Alya. “Sunshine’s transformation is probably a side effect of his dear old dad.”

“What did Gabriel do?” Asked Marinette.

“Don’t you remember? He’s a great designer, and apparently a cool boss, but he’s a super shitty dad.”

“Yeah. But ever since Adrien turned 18, he’s mellowed out. Somewhat.”

“So? He probably cranked it back up. When was the last time you saw Adrien outside of the mansion?”

Marinette blinked. “God, like two weeks ago, before ‘my failed date night’.”

“Exactly. If you ask me, Sunshine is depressed. Or forbidden from showing emotion.”

Marinette clutched at her chest, the very notion sending a throb to her heart.

“I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. I’ll sneak up on him, so Nathalie doesn’t know. Maybe without her talking to him beforehand, he’ll feel more relaxed.”

“That’s a good plan! And if he has a camera in his room?”

“Um…I’ll write a note! Not an email, in case his dad is monitoring it, but an actual, physical note.” It was as good enough of a plan as it could be, though she had neglected to mention to them the tiny detail of Adrien’s document.

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste’ it said.

Why would he be reading such a thing? Did he have amnesia and Gabriel was trying to keep it quiet? Extremely early onset Alzheimer’s? That’s the only thing that made sense.

Still, Marinette opted to not mention this. It was her clue to the mystery. Maybe later.

Just like some magic potion

You fill me with emotion

You control my very soul

You've Got Me Voodoo'd

“You could at least respond with ‘k’.”

The reply was immediate. “K.”

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?”

“K.”

“Did I do something?”

“K”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“K”

“You’re really pissing me off, Agreste.”

“K”

Marinette put her phone down for her own health. After a morning in the office, and not getting a response from Adrien, she was beyond frustrated.

If he had a problem with her, fine, but they had work to do! He still had a job at the company, outside of being a model, and some of her work relied on him.

It was coming in, slowly, poorly, and mostly wrong. Besides modeling, he was an assistant in sizing, making sure that their clothes were made to be close to the market standard, and flattering for as many possible body types. They did do custom orders, of course, but for the average consumer, it was important that they ordered what they wanted, and received what they expected.

But Adrien’s measurements were wildly wrong. Women’s extra large shirts didn’t gain inches in the bust, waist, and arms respectively, but the whole outfit scaled evenly.

Meaning that if an average small was 16 inches long, instead of gaining one or two inches, it reached down to the knees. Shoulder seams fell halfway down the bicep, and sleeves continued a few inches over their hands.

The models in testing looked like children wearing their parents' clothes.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I have to ask you about this collection and the…interesting sizing you’ve decided to take.” One of the sales reps asked, right outside her office.

“It’s wrong,” Marinette clarified. “It should have been caught before prototypes were made, but there’s been a hiccup in the production.” She stood, and put on her purse. There was no way to solve this problem without talking to Adrien. And goddamnit, she was going to make him talk!

“See to it that it’s corrected immediately. With Gabriel’s nearly complete absence, this collection is way behind. Aubrey Bourgeois already has her fall collection out!”

“Yes, I know. I’m heading over to the manor now to get some concrete answers. Hopefully by tomorrow, we’ll get our sizing corrected.”

“I hope you do.”

Marinette hurried down the hall, coworkers giving her concerned glances.

It was pretty obvious, even to those who weren’t immediately in the office:

The company was a sinking ship, and Marinette was the only one who had a bucket.

You knew the goddess Venus

Would start this love between us

You inspired me with desire

You've Got Me Voodoo'd

Marinette let herself into the manor, though it wasn’t her day to work there. Thankfully, it seemed like Nathalie was too busy to notice her arrival.

Up at Adrien’s bedroom door, she was about to knock. Then she noticed his door was cracked open.

Surely spying on him slightly wouldn’t be wrong?

She pushed the door open a little more for her to peek through.

On the other side of the room, staring out the window, stood Adrien. And that’s all he did. He just stood looking out the window. The lights in the room were off, backlighting his silhouette. She watched him for a moment, waiting. Nothing.

Then she knocked. “Adrien? Are you decent?”

“Yes, I am.” He spoke formally.

She opened the door fully, and he turned to look at her with the most plastic smile she had ever seen.

He didn’t have his dimples.

“Hello Marinette, it’s nice to see you. I didn’t know you were working here today.”

“Nice to see you too. I haven’t had the chance to talk to you properly the last few days, you’ve been so busy.”

“I have been, I apologize.”

“It’s not your fault. I know how your father is.” She took a seat on the couch, and pulled out her salad from her bag. “Sorry, I’d wait to eat with you, but I’m so hungry.”

“You may eat. I understand.” Though he just stared at her, still smiling, and still standing.

“Are you going to sit?”

“I can.” He sat next to her, leaving a cushion of space in-between. Normally, he would practically be in her lap.

“You don’t need to be so formal, you know. We’re alone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She frowned slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. Just like...relax.”

Adrien looked at her, before exhaling loudly and sinking into the couch more. “Is this relaxed enough?”

She shrugged.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Doing?”

“Yeah, you’ve been acting super weird lately.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Weird? How so?”

“I don’t know, stiff? Formal? Just kind of...stand off-ish. And forgetful. There've been some pretty obvious mistakes in sizing for this collection, and you approved them. You haven’t been in the office the last few days, so I was worried.”

He considered this. “I’m sorry if my absence caused you any inconveniences. I wasn’t aware I needed to be at the office.”

She blinked a few times, incredulously. This was absolutely bizarre. “You don’t need to be there, you just usually hang around after shoots or fittings and keep me company.”

“Oh, because we are friends, right? My good friend Marinette.”

“Yes!” She slammed her Tupperware down. “This is what I’m talking about! It’s like you don’t know who I am!”

He frowned, the expression running lines in his face. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m having a hard time right now, and I’m kind of exhausted. I’m…kind of confused.”

She took a calming breath. “Okay. I get it. You’re stressed. Let’s talk this out though, okay?”

He twisted up his mouth in thought. “Okay, what would you like to talk about?”

“What’s got you stressed? Is your dad breathing down your neck? Are deadlines too much to handle with modeling too? Do you need a vacation?”

He stared at her, blankly. “I’m not sure. I would have to think about it.”

“Well, you know you can talk to me about anything. I care a lot about you, Adrien.”

“Oh…that’s nice.” He smiled and patted her hand.

It sounded incredibly patronizing. And it hurt.

“What is up with you? You’ve been acting so strange! You’re not the boy I know!”

You knew you had the power

And even picked the hour

When the full moon was up above

I was hypnotized when I looked into your eyes

My heart was filled with love

The unbelievable plastic smile shifted then, relaxing ever so slowly, until it was gone, and it almost seemed like it was never there.

“You should go.” Adrien said, hollowly.

“What?”

“You should leave now. I don’t think you should be here. Does Nathalie know you are here?”

Marinette swallowed. “No, she doesn’t. I mean—I didn’t think you’d mind. You usually like it when I come to hang out…” she looked to the floor, “at least you used to.”

“Please give me thorough warning the next time you need to speak with me.”

She snapped the lid back on her lunch, the second time she had done so. She only had a few bites, just like last time.

And food just didn’t taste as good without him around.

“Fine. You know what? I won’t bother you again. Next time, I’ll send an email, like I do with all my other co-workers.” She slid her lunch into her bag, and stood. “The sizing for this collection needs some serious work, and I’ve been the one to have to fix it, on top of all my other responsibilities. Please do better next time, Mr. Agreste.” She shouldered her bag, and walked out.

Once the door slammed behind her, she let the tears gather in her eyes, but didn’t let them fall.

So it was over then. Her friendship with Adrien, her best friend, was over. And she wasn’t getting an explanation.

“Marinette,” Tikki said, sadly. “It can’t be your fault. You didn’t do anything.”

“I know. And that’s the worst part. Because that means I can’t fix it.”

She left the Agreste mansion that day, not knowing the next time she walked through those doors, life would be completely different.

Just like the siren Circe

You've got me at your mercy

Always to be brave and bold

Mama, You've Got Me Voodoo'd

It was late. Too late for anyone to be calling, and yet, here her phone was ringing. Marinette fumbled for it. Grabbing it and blinding herself with the screen.

It was 3am, and Adrien was calling her.

She loved a late night confession as much as the next girl, but she had a presentation in the morning. What was he thinking?

She hoped it was an apology. Maybe he was finally going to break down and tell her everything that was going wrong.

Or maybe he was going to confess he didn’t actually know how clothing measurements worked and he’d been guessing the whole time.

“Hello?” She grumbled.

“Marinette.” His voice was so stern, so cold, it gave her goosebumps. “Did I wake you?” He asked, softer.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, but it’s important.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed. “You were right. I’m not the boy you knew.”

More awake now, she sat up in bed. This had obviously been driving him wild for a while. “We all change, Adrien. It’s okay. If you’re going through something, I’m here for you. Just be honest with me.”

“That’s not—“ he sighed, a growl at the end. “Look, just…I don’t have much time. I don’t know what he—what I was going to tell you that night, but it probably wasn’t good.”

Another voice was on his end of the line. “What are you doing?! Who are you talking to?!”

“Shit. Just look in the basement!”

“What?!”

“How dare you!”

“Let go of me!”

And the line went dead.

What. The. Hell.

She called him back, now completely wide awake.

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now…”

All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #the ghost of Smokey Joe

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cherrynojutsu · 3 years

Text

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 3/?: Focalize

It is a tranquil spring evening by the time Sakura appears within view behind the hospital's glass entryway, a blur of carnation and sage and ivory. It is just a few minutes past seven; it seems she is waving goodbye to what he assumes is the receptionist further into the building, out of sight. Then she’s pushing one of the doors open with her shoulder and coming into focus, pastel colors subdued in dusk.

Sasuke notices she’s carrying a plain tote bag, and that there are also two large books and what looks like something reminiscent of a magazine in her hands, neatly stacked and held to her chest. She is wearing a sweater that is slightly oversized, a desaturated green.

Her face lights up when she sees him standing there, leaning against one of the blue columns situated a few steps away, closer to the road; her expression belays something like a mixture of ardor and avidity, and as she approaches, he also observes her cheeks match her hair.

His heart swells pleasantly in his chest; any shred of loneliness he felt in the past few hours dissolves.

“Sasuke-kun,” she chimes in affectionate greeting as she ambles over to him, all lenity and upturned lips.

“Sakura.” Her eyes flash lighter, more vibrant, as she gets closer; they are reflecting glow from a nearby streetlight that flipped on promptly at seven, an electrified yellow-green.

There is a short moment in time where they just gaze at each other, scant amount of steps between them, an oblivion of chartreuse and charcoal in spring twilight.

“How was your first day back?” She finally asks, smiling up at him.

He thinks it over for a second as he studies her, a gentle breeze of springtide. “...Fine. I saw Kakashi and the dobe.”

Her smile shifts into a knowing one. “I’m going to guess paperwork and Ichiraku’s.”

He pulls the health screening forms out of his pocket in answer, and her dimple makes an appearance.

“You can come by tomorrow just after eight in the morning, if that works for you; I’ll be here.” Different hours than today, then, he presumes.

He feels he should clarify that she’s not coming in early just for his sake. “...Shouldn’t I make an appointment?”

Sakura shakes her head. “Thursdays and Fridays I don’t have appointments or surgeries until a little later in the day. The majority of those mornings are set aside for medical research and correspondence with some of the clinics. As long as it’s before eleven, I can step away from things for a bit.”

Research. Interesting. She hadn't mentioned much about that in her letters; he hadn't realized it was something she did regularly. “What kind of research?”

She blinks in surprise, and he thinks she looks a little sheepish. “...It depends. Right now we’re doing some longitudinal studies on mice; behavioral assessment in accordance with certain stimuli, neurobiological response, brain scans, that sort of thing... I’ve also got some poisons I’m looking at for antidote development, but they’re pretty rare, so it’s not super pressing.”

His eyes flick to the books in her arms, a silent question. Her lips quirk upwards even more, then; he tries not to focus on them for too long, because she’s shifting the texts so he can read the titles. The thin magazine-like one is labeled Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology and Biological Psychiatry; it must be a research journal. The top book reads Neuroanatomy Through Clinical Cases, and the other reads Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release.

“...Some light reading,” he comments dryly, his version of a joke, and he revels in her soft exhale of breath, a shy version of a laugh. He has missed it.

“I suppose. I actually need to return these; they’re almost due. I meant to do it yesterday, but...” She’s blushing again. Vivid eyes meet his hesitantly before sweeping away. “...I forgot.”

Heat edges up his neck.

“I… wasn’t sure what you wanted to do this evening,” she continues, pursing her lips a little as her fingers clutch the books closer to her again. “I thought maybe we could swing by the library? I’d like to take a quick look to see if they have some new things in yet; it shouldn’t take very long.”

Sasuke muses that Sakura absolutely is the type to visit the library regularly. He used to go often, when he was younger. He wasn’t checking out books of that caliber, though; he wonders how long she’s had them. He also ponders momentarily if rogue ninja status is enough for the powers that be to revoke your library card from the system. Probably.

He hasn’t been able to read regularly for awhile, being away; books have been unnecessary weight, something extra to carry, and also a distraction from what he was trying to accomplish. Though he would accompany her wherever regardless, he realizes he would like to start reading again. It would be something to occupy his free time, when she is busy.

He nods his assent.

“Okay,” she breathes, looking a little relieved and meeting his eyes again, luminescent jade. "They close at eight today, so we should probably get going."

He nods again, glancing down at the books still in her arms. He considers for a second, then holds his hand out. Sakura blinks in confusion, long lashes skimming her cheekbones.

“...I’ll carry them,” he offers, neck heating up again as she stares. “...If you’d like.”

Her skin blooms with color, darker than earlier. “Oh. Thank you.” She hands them to him carefully, soft fingers brushing his. Her touch is delicate, incredibly distracting; her glowing cheeks, even moreso.

She adjusts her bag over her shoulder and then turns; he falls into step next to her as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

They walk just east of the hospital, which tells him the library is likely still in the same location, despite Konoha’s changing landscape. Some of the buildings they pass along the way are under construction. That seems to be a recurring theme in the village right now; much of what he saw earlier today passing through with Naruto was the same. Sasuke wonders if the library will have expanded, too. He doesn’t think he’s passed by it, yet.

There are a few people milling about, but not nearly as many as earlier. He supposes the majority of residents must be retired for the evening, inside their homes with family. There are a few restaurants they pass that smell fairly appetizing, but Sakura doesn’t say anything, so he concludes he was right in thinking that she has eaten already.

“So, how were things with Kakashi-sensei and Naruto?” Sakura asks conversationally, peering up at him from his right. “Anything other than paperwork?”

Sasuke contemplates before responding. “...Naruto and I went apartment hunting.”

Pink brows furrow a little bit as she grins. “Did you invite him?” She asks, though he suspects by her expression she already knows the answer.

He shakes his head. “Kakashi mentioned it as I was leaving and he invited himself.”

She laughs, then, glancing in the direction of the mountain of faces at their old sensei. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He probably appreciated a morning with Naruto out of his hair. He’s been helping there a lot, when he’s not on missions.” She pauses, then adds, “I imagine apartment hunting with Naruto would be pretty draining, though. He’s gotten a little better at cooling it with the nonstop chatter since Hinata, but not by a ton.” She stops again, thinking, before inquiring, “Did you end up finding a place?”

Sasuke nods. “It’s north of here.”

She smiles again, then purses her lips as if she’s considering whether to say something more or not. Finally she adds, green eyes darting to his and then looking away shyly, “...Not too far away, then.”

His gaze softens. “...Not too far.”

They amble by a few street vendors selling gardening supplies, closing up carts for the evening; they must be doing fairly well, as all that’s left over from the day's plantable wares are saplings here and there, and a few starters, small labels detailing their required care poking up from the dirt containers they’re sitting in. There are several taller displays interspersed between carts, stocked with watering cans, spades, gloves, and the like. Sasuke thinks it is quite trusting of the merchants to leave their goods out overnight, evidently without fear that they will be stolen or damaged; many of them are walking away holding only money boxes. It speaks to the relative security of Konoha, in comparison to most of the places he's been.

“Did you get everything you needed for your apartment today?” Sakura asks him after they meander a few more steps.

He blinks. “...Mostly."

“Was there something in particular you wanted to do, after the library? We could stop by a store, if they’re open, and get what you're missing.”

He shakes his head, then admits, “I… didn’t have anything planned.” He worries, then, that maybe he was supposed to plan something. They’re together now, or at least he hopes they are; he'd kissed her, and he would like to, again, if they're alone. Maybe this should have been more formal. He then thinks he should answer the second part of her inquiry: a box and a drying rack would probably be easy to find at a general store, but the majority of places in Konoha that are open past seven only sell food. “...I think the store I went to closed at seven,” he adds.

Sakura looks as if she’s deliberating again. “What are you missing, still?” He notices she doesn’t seem upset that he didn’t plan anything; maybe it’s okay.

It takes him a moment to respond, carefully. “...A small storage box, and a laundry rack.”

She brightens. “I actually have a spare drying rack that I'm not using, if you want it. The washing machine in my unit broke in February, and when my landlady replaced it, she got a washer/dryer combo.” She thinks, then adds, “...And I think I have an empty shoebox in my closet; would that be big enough?”

Something like serendipity unfolds in Sasuke’s chest and begins to vine between his ribs. He thinks unbidden of the blooming cherry blossom tree he can see from his window, just within reach, if he only goes beyond the glass.

He nods. “...Thank you.”

Multifaceted eyes peer up at him warmly. “No problem.” Her cheeks darken again. “We could… walk for a while, and then swing by there at the end. If you want.” Her fingers are gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “I wouldn’t mind walking by your building at some point before that, so I… so I know where it is.”

Sasuke nods again, heart skipping a little. He had hoped she would show him where her apartment is tonight, too; he would like to walk her home. He also hopes ‘walk for a while’ means he gets to spend more time with her between the library and going by his building, before they go to hers.

He thinks maybe he should voice that. It comes out as a question. “...We could walk around a bit after the library?”

She’s gazing up at him with red cheeks and smiling with a gentle light in her eyes. “...I’d like that,” she murmurs.

His ears feel warm again.

They turn a corner, and then they are at the library. There is a small expanded portion of the building on the south side now, and it is painted a slightly different mauve-leaning gray than it used to be, but otherwise it appears the same. When they near the entrance, Sakura pulls open the door for him, since his hand is occupied.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, before they head inside, bell on the door jingling.

The librarian working at the front desk nods at Sakura in recognition as they enter, a fairly young woman with chestnut hair. The librarian Sasuke remembers was quite a bit older, elderly now that he’s thinking about it. He briefly wonders if she passed away in his absence. The thought makes him morose; he hopes she just retired. She had always been kind to him.

“Finished with those already, Sakura?” The woman asks, friendly and motioning to the books in Sasuke’s arm as he makes his way to the desk to set them down, Sakura beside him. She must know her well.

“Yes; the journal was interesting, this time. Very relevant to the experiments we're running, and much more substantial than the last edition.” There is something somewhat critical in her voice regarding the referenced last edition, as if something in it wasn’t up to her academic standards. She’s well within reason to be captious; she has become an expert in her field in a rapid amount of time, and if she’s doing research regularly, he’s sure she has the data to back up her assessment. He wonders just what kind of experiments she’s running that have to do with neuro-psychopharmacology; whatever they are, he imagines they must be complex.

The woman is wearing a name tag that reads Ichika, Sasuke can see now that they’re closer. Sakura pulls out what must be her library card from her tote bag; it’s connected to a lanyard with several keys and what he presumes is an ID badge for the hospital.

“Thank you," the librarian says as Sakura hands her card over. As she does so, the woman glances at Sasuke with brown eyes, and then back to Sakura, as if waiting for an introduction. “And this is?”

“This is Sasuke,” she answers, smiling, then adds, “Uchiha.”

“Welcome,” the woman named Ichika greets him, without any malice. Sasuke wonders if she just doesn’t know who he is, or if she’s being friendly because of Sakura’s presence. Maybe it’s because she’s a civilian.

“...Thank you,” he offers sincerely after a moment.

“It was nice of you to carry those books. I know from experience they’re quite heavy. My name’s Ichika.” She gestures to her name tag. “I don’t suppose you like to read as much as Sakura does?” Ichika laughs as she hands Sakura’s card back and starts scanning the books as returned. “I think by now there are more books in the library that she’s read than ones she hasn’t.”

Sasuke glances at Sakura knowingly, and she looks downwards bashfully for a second.

“...I like to, but I don't think I’d understand half of what’s in these,” Sasuke answers honestly, turning his gaze back to the librarian. He sees Sakura flush out of the corner of his eye.

Ichika laughs. Sasuke thinks then that she really must not know of his prior rogue ninja status. “I usually have her write down the titles of the books she’d like us to add, because I don’t know that I can even spell some of the words.” She squints at the last book. “ Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release. I haven’t the faintest idea what a neurotransmitter is, or what it would be releasing.”

Sakura smiles. “Neurotransmitters are the body’s chemical messengers. A release is when the neurotransmitter causes a response in the receiving neuron; they can be disrupted in diseases and biological toxins. Tetanus is a good example; it goes up synaptic terminals of interneurons where it blocks the release of inhibitory neurotransmitters. The result of the block is that motorneurons become overactive, and then cause muscle contractions and spastic paralysis, like lockjaw.”

Ichika blinks blankly. “I don’t know where you keep that information in your head, Sakura, because it certainly wouldn’t fit in mine. Guess I’ll try not to step on any nails in the meantime.” She’s shaking her head, but her tone is amicable. “Well, they’re all checked in, with a few days to spare. I left out the new journals and that other book you asked about in the usual spot, back in the Medicine section.”

Sakura nods, and the librarian’s gaze turns back to him.

"Would you like a library card?”

Sasuke is glad he won’t have to ask. “...I used to have one. I’m not sure if it’s still on file.”

“I can check our records, if you want to browse in the meantime. If it’s not still on file, we can set you up with a new one; you can take books today either way, if you find some you’re interested in.”

Sasuke nods; that was easier than he thought it would be. “...Thank you.” Ichika turns to approach a row of filing cabinets a bit further back behind the main desk area, he assumes to check for his name in their database; he turns to Sakura.

She’s smiling at him as if she wants to ask him a question, but she doesn’t say anything. When she turns to journey further back into the library, he follows. They pass through two interior rooms, organized by genre and alphabet just the same as they had been years ago. The shelves are a little fuller than they used to be; with the population expanding, it makes sense that they now have a wider selection available.

They turn a corner to another interior room, and suddenly he sees a familiar face. His replacement is hunched over in a corner, nose buried in a book that appears from its cover to be about painting. When Sasuke inspects the rest of the room, he sees that the majority of the books in this section have titles related to art.

“Oh, hey, Sai,” Sakura greets casually, heading over to him. Dark eyes glance up at her from his book. Seeing him here must be a regular occurrence, given her lack of surprise.

"Hello, Ugly,” he responds, somehow both cheerful and monotone all at once. Sasuke frowns. He’d been around Sai a few times following the war, before he left for his travels. He never liked his nickname for Sakura.

Sai then looks to him, still standing at the threshold of the room, keeping his distance. He knows him, but not well.

“Welcome back, Traitor," he adds, tone friendly enough. Sasuke supposes that one’s fair. He inclines his head minutely, hand in his pocket.

Sai twists his gaze back to Sakura. "Have you recovered from your birthday extravaganza?"

Sakura blanches and stiffens a little in surprise as Sasuke eyes her with great interest; clearly this was not something she’d expected to be asked about. "Uh… Yeah. It doesn't take long; I eat during and can heal my headache the morning after."

Sai nods. “Yes, Beautiful said you didn’t get nearly as plastered as she wanted you to.” The way he says it is with way too positive of an inflection, as if he’s talking about it being great weather outside instead of crude wording for getting drunk.

Sakura rolls her eyes, then. “She would think that.” She pauses, then looks at Sai carefully. "Ino should be back tonight, right?"

"Yes. I am excited. I'm feeling quite amorous."

Sasuke twitches and his frown sinks deeper, but Sakura rolls her eyes as if she is used to this lack of filter, and gently pushes his book into his face, firmly but carefully so as not to damage it.

"Too much information. Just say you miss her."

Sai smiles as he moves the book away. "It is less information than Beautiful gives."

"That's because she's not normal," Sakura replies, sighing. Sai nods almost mechanically, as if he is cataloging this tidbit on human social interaction away in a filing cabinet for future reference.

There is a pause that is just a bit too long, before Sai offers, “I am researching for an upcoming painting.” Sasuke doesn’t know Sai well enough to understand, but Sakura does; apparently this is his way of telling her that he is busy with his book.

"I won’t keep you, then. Don't let her forget about our plans, though, and tell her I missed our spar this week."

Sai smiles. "She was preparing a new playlist prior to her mission." This also interests Sasuke, but not as much as Ino trying to get her ‘plastered’. He is for some reason having great difficulty imagining Sakura even a little drunk.

Sakura sighs deeply through her nose this time, and says flatly, with no enthusiasm, "Great.” After a beat, she adds, “Well anyways, tell her I say hi. See you. Good luck with your painting.”

Sai nods, and Sakura then turns to go a different direction, Sasuke following close behind. They pass through four more interior rooms before they finally make it to the Medicine section towards the back of the building, where one book and two more medical journals are sectioned neatly away in an empty portion of shelf. The book is just as thick as the one she’d just returned.

“I didn’t know you liked to read, still,” Sakura mentions as she carefully picks up the stack. She’s smiling at him again; that must be what she wanted to say earlier. Maybe she’d expected Sai would be there, that they would pass through the room he was sitting in, and that’s why she’d held off.

Sasuke nods. “...I haven’t read much in a while.”

Jade eyes are soft on his. “Well, if you want to look for a bit, I could look, too.”

He nods again.

XXX

Roughly twenty minutes later, Sasuke leaves the library with Sakura, comparing what they’ve checked out underneath the streetlight just outside; the light has faded enough that it is a bit difficult to read without it.

They still had his information on file after all, though the woman, Ichika, had him fill out a renewal slip and updated his contact information to his new address before giving him a new card. It is a strangely comforting and nostalgic feeling, to know that he was still present in the archives of Konoha in ways he had been unaware of.

He had picked out two books: one about the history of kenjutsu in Fire Country, and another historical text documenting the overthrow of the daimyo in the Land of Silence. He has never been there, given it is beyond the reach of Shinobi authority; he figured it would be interesting to read about. With it being a samurai-led country, it made sense to read at the same time as the book on kenjutsu.

“These sound like you,” Sakura says after scanning the titles of what he’s picked, glancing up at him kindly as she rotates so he can read the information of her own. Cradled in her arms are the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, the other scholarly journal, Human Brain Mapping, the book from the Medicine section titled Translational Research in Traumatic Brain Injury, and what appears to be a fiction book, an addition to the others, titled Spoiled Suitopi.

“You read fiction, too,” he observes as he reads the title of the last one, and she takes this as her cue to shift them back together neatly into one stack, largest to smallest.

She laughs a little. “I try to. It’s a good mental reset after reading medical texts; everything starts to blur together after a while. This was actually a recommendation from Ino; she’s into the dramatic stuff, clearly. Sometimes they’re decent.”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to ask. “...A birthday extravaganza?”

She smiles timidly, expression shifting to something a little embarrassed. “I wouldn’t call it that; she showed up at my apartment last weekend with ingredients for drinks, and then we watched terrible movies in my living room.”

Sasuke is learning all kinds of things about Sakura this evening. “No Sai?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s a me and Ino thing; he doesn’t really pick up on the nuance of them being terrible, and we figure we don’t want to give him poor examples to follow… he’s got enough of those already, dating her.” She grins a little, then. “Also, he can’t really handle his liquor.”

Sasuke thinks Sakura must be able to hold hers fairly well; she had seemed pretty confident earlier, regarding the morning after. He knows her mentor Tsunade has quite a reputation. He himself has never drank much.

“He’s... interesting.”

Sakura shrugs nonchalantly. "He's better than he used to be, regarding the oversharing. Ino is worse, honestly.”

He considers her words, then decides to drop the subject, because he doesn’t want to think about that. Sakura had said in her letters that Ino and Sai were together; he can only imagine what she knows about them, likely most of it against her will and learned in the manner he's just witnessed.

He shifts his attention upwards; a few stars are starting to peek their way into the night sky. He follows their path north, to the barest hints of lavender sinking below the horizon. It has become even more silent outside, fewer people and slightly cooler temperatures. There is still a breeze. They spent longer in the library than he'd anticipated.

He’s not sure what time she usually goes to sleep; if she works at eight, it’s probably early. He wonders if he should ask.

“Thank you for going with me. I’m sorry it took a little longer than I thought,” she says, before the question comes to him. He shifts his eyes back towards her; he’s about to tell her not to apologize because he clearly spent time browsing, too, but she’s already speaking again. “You said your apartment is on the north side, right?”

He inclines his head in an affirmative.

“We could walk that direction, if you want; there are a few newer things on that side of town I could point out that are kind of interesting. If…” She pauses, as if considering her wording. “If you haven’t seen them already, I mean.” She gestures to his selection from the library, gripped in his hand. “We could drop off your books, too. Not as much to carry back, then, with the box and the laundry rack.”

“...I’d like that.”

She smiles up at him again, tender effervescence. He realizes as they start making their way north that they both have been talking in more hushed voices, as if the blanket of nighttime shifting atop the village has quieted them in addition to their surroundings.

There is something soothing about treading around at nightfall with her. The village is well-lit enough that it’s fairly easy wandering, and lights emanating from windows cast everything softer, more inviting phosphorescence sifting onto the pathway beneath their feet. Earlier today, trekking back and forth between businesses and his apartment, it had felt more unfamiliar, like there was a disconnect and he was just passing through, despite the knowledge that he was transporting things to a permanent living space. It feels decidedly less transient next to Sakura, a hint of sweetness in tart recollections. He watches their shadows for a fleeting moment, cast close together to the right of them, near touching, and occasionally faded by windowpane glow.

There is a casino she points out a few blocks down where Tsunade apparently used to lose money fairly regularly. She explains it was her mentor’s favorite because it was somewhat close to the residence typically taken up by the Hokage; she used to call it lucky, even though she never won. Sasuke finds out through this story that the Hokage residence is still sitting empty; Kakashi has apparently still not moved there, preferring instead to stay where he has been residing for years. Sakura mentions in a softer tone that she thinks it’s because of his apartment’s proximity to the graveyard where his old teammate, the Nohara girl, is buried.

There is a long stretch of silence in which Sasuke considers just how Kakashi has always seemed able to see straight through him. He’s fairly certain the girl had been a medic, too.

“...Naruto’s house isn’t far from the Hokage’s office, either,” Sasuke observes finally, changing the subject. He’s with her right now; he doesn’t want to ruminate too long. He thinks that's improvement.

Jade eyes sparkle up at him. “No, it’s not. I’m pretty sure that was on purpose; I don’t think they intend to move again. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour eventually - he’s pretty proud of their place; Hinata keeps it pretty nice - but it has some extra rooms.”

He tries not to think about the implications of that for too long. Naruto being in charge of a tiny human is not a very reassuring thought, even with his apparent strides in social awareness.

They pass a yakitori place she mentions is good, a few more blocks down. It seems pretty calm for such a restaurant, not as busy as Ichiraku’s usually is, though it’s later now and they’re likely getting ready to close. “I’ve been there with Naruto and Hinata a few times,” she tells him. “At least, when we can convince him to go eat something other than ramen.”

Sasuke hadn’t realized Sakura was that close with Naruto’s wife, though it makes sense instantaneously; she has known her for years. He thinks for a second before questioning, “Is she still as quiet?”

Sakura purses her lips in thought. “She talks more, now, for sure, but she’s still pretty shy around people she doesn’t know well.” She smiles, then. “I think Naruto has been really good for her, actually. Her for him, too; they balance each other out well.”

He supposes that’s true; perhaps Hinata is the reason for Naruto’s continued emotional growth. He ponders momentarily whether he and Sakura will balance each other out well.

She’s looking at him as if he should say something, so he does. “...He had vegetables in his ramen today.”

Sakura laughs. “Yes, she does force vegetables into his food every once in a while, now, so he's more used to them. I think she might have slipped Teuchi some money to start throwing them in his orders, to be honest."

Sasuke snorts, because of course that would be how that came about.

"It’s for the best," Sakura continues, lips quirking upwards still. He tears his eyes away from her mouth after a second. "He was eating pretty much all noodles and junk for so long. Hopefully it’ll start to cancel out with a few more years.”

As they walk farther, he starts to recognize things from earlier today; a bed of alabaster azaleas surrounding a residential building painted green, and a rather large street sign on a corner, right next to an ornate bench. They are getting fairly close to his apartment building. He holds off on saying something for a little longer, though, because he wants to spend more time with her. He hopes that's not too selfish; he has missed her. A lot.

“There’s an interesting place over there,” Sakura notes, pointing out a clearly aged building that he thinks he walked by on his return trip from the market earlier in the afternoon. “They’re only open two or three days a week, but it’s antiques now. I don’t usually buy anything other than books, but it’s fun to look through; they get rare ones in, from time to time. The owner is really nice.”

He nods. That would be a good way to spend an afternoon. He suspects she must have a collection of books at her apartment, then. He wonders how many.

She is mute for a moment, as if in thought, as they pass through another intersection. He wonders if he should be adding more to the conversation, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence; just an easy one.

He spies another familiar sign, this one advertising the market hours. “...My building is a few blocks this way,” he mentions quietly, loath as he is for this evening spent with her to come to an end. She looks up at him for a moment, then nods, and he subtly starts leading her in the general direction of his apartment complex.

His building comes into view a short time later. He points it out right before they pass beneath the cherry blossom tree, and Sakura nods in recognition. “Sai used to live somewhere over in this area, before he moved in with Ino. I’m not sure where, exactly. I know he liked how quiet it was, though.”

Sasuke nods as he pulls his key from his pocket, and they cross the street. He had been right about the light pollution; there is little enough of it that one can see the stars rather clearly, more so than one could from the library.

He wonders if he should perhaps invite her in. He thinks of the letters, still sitting on the small end table in the living room.

She saves him from making the decision. “I’ll wait here,” she tells him politely, leaning up against the old brick. He nods.

He goes up the stairway, down to the last door on the right. Once he unlocks his door, he places the two books on the kitchen table inside, and locks the door again behind him. It only takes him a minute before he is coming down the stairs again.

She smiles at him, then blinks when he holds out his hand. She colors, he thinks, when she realizes he’s offering to carry her books for her again; it’s harder to tell with the lack of light.

As she hands them to him carefully, she says, voice soft, “My place is a little south of the library; not by too much.” Her eyes flit to his, then dart away; there is a careful smile on her lips. “Maybe a little over ten minutes from here.”

They wander together in an easy silence, her leading the way more now. There are a few crickets chirping. It was fairly warm out today, so it makes sense that insects are starting to make their return. A gentle breeze continues to waft through from time to time.

He walks close enough to her that he can faintly smell raspberries, each time the wind blows just right. There are even fewer people out and about now, it being closer to nine in the evening; the road is fairly deserted. They go by the library again, lights turned off, and more closed businesses. It soon transitions into older construction that he assumes must be residential.

She was right; it doesn’t take long, around twelve minutes at a leisurely pace, before she points out a building further down the street. “That’s the one.”

As they get closer, he notes that hers is also an older building, built out of cream brick; there is something nice about that realization, that she also apparently chose something older with a bit of history over something brand new. There are few enough street lights that one can see the stars overhead well at night here, too.

“There’s a patio or balcony attached to each unit,” Sakura remarks once they’re closer, pointing at one on the northernmost part of the second story that is brimming with potted plants, much more than any of her neighbors’. “That one’s mine.”

As they round the corner of the building, he assumes to reach the front entrance, she tells him it was one of the reasons she selected this apartment, aside from its proximity to the hospital and her family's residence. "My parents' house has balconies for both bedrooms. It was strange to imagine not having one. This one’s attached to the bedroom, too; it’s nice to sit out there, if the weather’s not too extreme."

It’s a smaller complex, only two stories high. He thinks there must be six units, given its size and the trio of balconies they passed beneath, three small patios in their shadows on the ground level. It is somewhat close to the hospital, as she’d said, but far enough away that it's not necessarily an area that would bustle with activity, even during the day’s busiest hours; it is very still right now, peaceful. They pass through a glass door that is not locked, leading into a common area with six doors, three on the main level, and then three on the second level, with a metal stairway leading upwards. A huge, two-story high bay window sprawls by the main door, overlaid in a diamond pattern, which must allow light to stream in the majority of the day.

Each of the doors to individual units has at least one or two plants framing it, but he knows which one is hers right away. An array of thriving potted plants surround the upper northernmost side door, spilling out to surround the entire right side of the banister that frames the edges of the building. Hers is also the unit furthest on the upper right, like his; another nice realization. A few of her plants are flowering, but for the most part they are varying shades of green, with accents of paler colors. Desaturated and calming, just as he’d guessed she would like, rather than intensities of marigold and cobalt and fuchsia. It's hard to tell in the dim lighting, but as they get closer, he thinks that the few blooms are pistachio and lavender and blush in color, like her hair.

Or her cheeks. Jade eyes are on him again as he finishes walking up the stairway behind her.

He follows her to her door and leans a little against the railing behind him while she grabs her keys from her bag; he doesn’t think she’d mind if he came in for a few minutes, but she didn’t explicitly invite him, and he wants to be polite.

Once she’s unlocked it, she turns back to him to take her books. Her hand brushes his, and it’s incredibly distracting, again. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles at him before disappearing inside her apartment.

She leaves the door slightly ajar behind her, and he tries not to look. He busies himself with observing what appears by her neighbors’ doorways instead. No light emanates from beneath the doors of any of them; he wonders, this being older construction, if more of the tenants here are older, and are perhaps in bed already. The upper units probably aren’t occupied by extremely elderly people, given the stairs, but the ground level units’ decorations appear more classic and refined, less youthful. He notes the pots surrounding the other doors are very matchy, but Sakura’s are less so; hers are various shades of neutral terracotta colors, soft and inviting, some with unique shapes.

She’s back quickly, foldable drying rack and shoebox in tow, closing her door mostly behind her. She also must have set her tote bag aside; it's no longer situated on her shoulder.

He realizes all at once as she meets his eyes, handing him the items she’s gifting him, that he does not want this evening to end.

“Thank you,” he says, voice husky.

“You’re welcome,” she murmurs, just as hushed.

Sasuke studies her eyes for a long moment, trying to commit the life in them to memory, though he already has, he thinks.

“...May I see you tomorrow after you work?” He finally asks quietly, trying to keep the hope out of his tone. He knows he’ll see her for his medical clearance in the morning, but he would still like to spend time with her outside of that, if she doesn't have plans already.

She looks crestfallen, smile slipping a little before coming back. “I would love to see you, but I have dinner with my parents every other Thursday, since I get off at four. They stopped by for a visit on my actual birthday, but they wanted to do cake and a gift tomorrow night after our usual supper time.” She pauses, searches his expression for a moment. “Maybe the day after tomorrow, if you’re not busy? I get off around four on Fridays, too.”

He nods, committing this part of her schedule to memory. “...I’ll meet you at the hospital, then.”

Her smile gets wider. “Okay. I can show you around the other newer parts of the village, if you’d like. The southwest side has really expanded.”

He nods his head in agreement, thinking. He would like to ask for more time with her, before he starts taking mission assignments again, but he also doesn’t want to monopolize all of it; she has years worth of life here, roots other than him that need tending. He hopes she’s saying yes because she actually wants to, and not simply for his sake.

He takes a deep breath, forcing down nervous vulnerability at his next question. “...And Saturday?”

She blinks, then blushes darker, smile growing wider still. She casts her glance downwards to her feet out of shyness, shifting a bit. “Saturdays I work seven to three; I’m going to stop by the market after for some gardening supplies with Ino, but other than that, I didn’t have anything set in stone.” But then jade eyes flick back up at him, and they are slightly apologetic.

His heart sinks for a second, rejection stinging a little behind his eyes. She doesn’t want to see me that often. He’s been absent for too long. She's probably tired of him already, though she hasn’t said anything. He has enjoyed tonight, but he's aware he doesn't make the best company.

“Naruto sent a clone by this afternoon that was going on about an original Team Seven reunion dinner, though. He mentioned Saturday night as a possibility,” she reveals, and his world comes back into focus, heart reversing upwards back into his chest cavity.

Sasuke huffs amusedly, then, relieved. “...Of course he did.”

She sighs wistfully, shaking her head. “Ichiraku’s, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve tried everything on the menu in triplicate, at this point.”

He eyes her carefully, trying to dry swallow his fear of rejection like a pill. Corrosion, he thinks. “...After dinner?”

Shimmering seafoam again. Happy, transparently pleased, and he’s glad he asked, shoved away the nerves; he’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it’s going to make her eyes look like that. “Of course. We could… hang out here, if you want. Or was there something you had in mind?”

His gaze softens. “Here is fine,” he answers. It is more than fine, actually. He’d go anywhere, if it meant he could soak in her presence longer, but he’s more than a little curious about what her apartment looks like on the inside. His own is pretty sterile, even now mostly put together after the afternoon, devoid of most anything other than necessities. He has an inkling that Sakura is the type to truly make wherever she's living feel like a home, though, given the pleasant spread of life he’s seen spilling out here on her doorstep.

“Okay,” she confirms, dimple reappearing. “I’ll look forward to it.”

There is something in her eyes after a second, gears turning, a question she must want to ask him.

"Would you…" She's talking even more softly, now, hushed as if she's going to scare him away. Her eyes meet his apprehensively as she shifts her weight from one side to the other. "Would you want to maybe... have tea tomorrow morning? I'm… not sure if you have plans or not, but I have a little time, before I work. There's a good place near the hospital, and then after we could get your exam done at eight like we planned."

The vines between his ribs twist pleasurably. She does want to see him, after all. She's not too busy. She's looking at him nervously, as if he would say no, as if he hasn’t spent the last twenty-four hours longing for her company again.

"...I'll look forward to it," he answers quietly, because he will; he likes tea, occasionally. He thinks he will like it better with her.

Her entire countenance brightens somehow, even as she flushes darker. "Oh. Good." She sounds relieved.

"...I can meet you here," he finds himself saying, and her eyes are sparkling at him, now, at what's implied - longer with her, another walk together. "What time?"

She purses her lips now, apparently still nervous. "Would… seven be too early?" Her voice trails off a little, as if in hesitance, as she finishes the question.

He chooses his next words carefully, meaningfully, so there is no uncertainty. "Not at all."

She regards him then like he has done something wholly wonderful, cheeks a rich red in dim light and expression heart-wrenchingly elated.

There is an expectant pause as the oblivion happens again, dimmer now but just as powerful. He really wants to kiss her; he’s been thinking about it the entire evening. He wonders if she has, too, and if maybe she wants him to. There’s no one around, in this little entry area of her small complex, in front of her door and her plants in faded hues.

He decides to go with his gut.

It’s somehow even better, this time, anticipation and lips meeting and a barely audible exhale of breath through the nose on her part, almost like she’s suddenly at ease; he thinks, pleased, that she must have wanted him to. Her hands gently meet his chest, tentatively pressing against him. He would like to do something with his, but it's still occupied, holding what she's supplied him with. He settles for pressing his lips to hers with a little more confidence than yesterday. It’s tender and over much too quickly, much like the evening they have spent together; all soft light settling, lambent and beguiling.

She is crimson when they part for a breath, before shyly directing her gaze away and shifting back down; he realizes that she must have been standing on the tips of her toes to reach him.

Her hands linger on his chest, and then her gaze comes back up to his, almost determinedly.

“I’m… really happy you’re back.” Her face is still flushed, but she doesn’t look away. Her pupils are dilated, bottomless black dwarfing green.

Heat creeps up his neck. His pulse pounds just below her fingertips, as if she’s tugging at his heartstrings with them.

“...I am, too,” he whispers, before he leans down again.

He thinks that he could stay here forever, clutching all that she’s given him, enveloped in a sweet ambrosia of tart berry and newly unfurling plants and soft lips that he’s thought of all day, now against his again.

She gently drops her hands from his chest when they finally part. She’s smiling; she is so pretty.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun.” Her voice is near a whisper. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“...Good night, Sakura,” he murmurs in response.

XXX

The journey from her place to his really is quite quick; he doesn’t see anyone on his way back. Stars are visible almost the entire way, Leo and Ursa Major and Cassiopeia. The moon is a thin sliver amongst them, raised high in the sky.

Once he's inside, he carefully folds out the drying rack she’s given him in the small laundry closet and lays out damp clothes to allow the air to finish the job. He's glad he didn't need to make another trip to the store. A trip with her was better, and she somehow had just what he needed. He thinks perhaps she always has, and his vision has simply been too blurry, obscured by smudged glass, to see it.

Sasuke retrieves the stack of her letters and places them in the box gingerly so as not to further bend them. He stares at the picture for a long time before also stowing it away, sliding the container onto the shelf in the closet for safekeeping.

He doesn’t feel tired yet, and it's not too cold, so he goes to visit the memorial stone, after, as he’d planned. He feels it is the right thing to do, after having been gone so long.

He confronts many things as he sits there, the bevy of crickets and soft swishing of grass the only sounds on this quiet spring evening, a long list of engravings barely legible in the shadows.

Melancholy is one of them, seeping in slowly, as he’d known it would. Grief and acrimony and betrayal, too. A little bit of anger, still. He also experiences sillage, the aroma of his mother’s flower garden and the scent of his aunt and uncle’s baked goods and the smell of an empty house, all blending together in his olfactory senses like it was yesterday, a bitter incense of nostalgia that is hard on the inhale.

This time, though, semisweet berry and antiseptic are also among them, memory fresh in his nostrils, and he experiences a little bit of comfort, too.

Sasuke doesn’t sleep well, after, but when the nightmare comes, gruesome, and he’s awake for the remainder of the night, he has some books to help steady him until seven comes.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #slow burn indeed we doing a snail's pace out here #like gold #fanfiction

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drwcn · 4 years

Text

@cloudyfromoobsession

Hi! :)

On the topic of talking in third person when referring to yourself, it is actually quite prevalent in cdrama, especially the historical ones, but it never shows up in translation because well... it sounds really weird in English and often there is no direct translation. So most translators just do away with it.

In modern spoken Chinese, third person speech is no longer used (in fact it would be very weird if you did), so below is only pertaining to historical or fantasy dramas.

If I could insert my personal opinion on the matter: there’s no need to use third person speech in English. Chinese third person speech is incredibly nuanced depending on context and person, and it is incredibly easy to misuse it in English. Writers end up not conveying their intentions and actually making things really awkward. As someone who is fully bilingual, I personally find that third person speech, when used in excess, makes the writing stilted. Another example is Lan Wangji’s “concise speech” which I see very often. It does not work in English. It makes him sound like he doesn’t know how to speak properly and is grammatically incorrect. Chinese is a language that is designed to be able to be shortened in certain ways and still follow all its grammatical rules. English’s syntax does not work the same way at all. Speech is a major contributor to a fictional character’s personality. Sometimes those subtleties cannot be transposed directly from Chinese to English. To still capture the character when writing in English, each writer has different ways of doing this, but personally I like to keep Lan Wangji’s speech - for the most part - simple and concise. No complex or compound sentences but all his sentences should still obey the grammatical rules of English.

Okay, onto third person speech, since I find it interesting and it’s like a cool language quirk.

NOTE: below is about referring to oneself in the third person. Referring to someone else in the third person is a whole thing on its own.

The “talking in third” person you’re probably referring to stems from the episode when LWJ got drunk with One Braincell Trio, and the next morning he went to his uncle and said 忘机知错 or 忘机有错. I can’t remember specifically which one he said, but essentially it means “Wangji knows his faults” or “Wangji is at fault”. Using one’s own name to speak in third person is actually less common than some of the other examples I will explain below. There are many ways to speak in third person depending on the situation, your position and the person you are talking to.

Before I do that, I’d that to point out that the pronoun “I” 我 is seen as rude or not following etiquette if you use it inappropriately with people who you shouldn’t be using “I” with. For example, a girl entering the palace to serve as a maid will be trained to stop using “I” when she is speaking with nobility, royalty and anyone of higher rank than he. She will in fact be verbally corrected by her supervisor (and may even be punished) if she used “I” inappropriately. A palace maid’s “noun” that she will use in place of “I” is nubi 奴婢. Instead of saying 我不知到 “I don’t know”, she will say 奴婢不知 “nubi does not know.”

Notice the grammar issue that we’re presented with. Because there are no verb conjugation changes in Chinese, substituting “I” with another noun doesn’t change what happens to the verb in Chinese, but in English, you have to make conjugation changes. This makes dialogues sound even more weird in English.

“I” can be used amongst friends, close siblings, family (with exceptions) individuals or colleagues of relatively equal ranking or (sometimes) strangers on the street. Children, especially civilian children, almost always use “I”. As a general rule, civilians mostly use “I” with each other, it’s only when they speak to someone of rank that they switch their pronoun to a "non-I” noun. Also! Chinese doesn’t differentiate between the subject ‘I’ and the object ‘me’. They are both 我 “wo”, so both “I” and “me” are affected in the same way when switching to a ‘non-I’ noun.

So now I will list some of the “nouns” that are used in place of “I” in c-dramas. They will be listed in categories based on people’s station in life.

It’s important to note that Chinese can and is spoken passively, especially in old speech and in dramas. You won’t get the same flack for not using “active tone” the way you do in English. In fact, using “I” or “you” in old Chinese speech actually makes it sound informal. However, this again is one of those language quirks that doesn’t translate and can’t really be transposed. When writing in English, when in doubt, always follow English’s grammatical rules and syntax practices.

I have no degree in Chinese history or even East Asian studies. These are just some of the commonly used terms I’ve seen over many, many years of drama watching. Sometimes, drama gets it wrong, and these misconceptions will get passed to the audience, but it’s not like we’re submitting manuscripts for academic publication, so does it really matter if it’s slightly inaccurate?

Citizens, when talking to Officials, Royalty or the Emperor:

1) cao min 草民 - “grass” “citizen” 2) min nv 民女 - “citizen” “woman” 3) min fu 民妇 - “citizen” “married woman”

An average jo farmer when speaking with any government official or nobility or royalty including the Emperor will use cao’min to refer to themselves. Cao’min is gender neutral, so both men and women, old or young can use it. For example: “M’lord, I didn’t kill anyone!” -> “大人，草民没有杀人!”

“min’nv” on the other hand is used exclusively by women, usually younger women, while “min’fu” is used exclusively by older married women. The context of their usage is the same as cao’min. Both married and unmarried women can use cao’min as well. (nv is a weird word isn’t it? It’s because there is literally no alphabet to make the 女 sound. The closest we can get is nu, but that’s actually another word, so pinyin uses nv to as substitution.)

Notice, all three of these nouns are actually more... “formal”, as in these are the nouns people will know to use when they are being brought before a local judiciary court, or being called to testify before the Emperor himself. In a street setting, nouns #4 and #5 are usually used.

Sidenote: da’ren 大人 is an honorific that can be used for any government official that holds some kind of public office or police status. A citizen can use “da’ren” with officials as high as the prime minister all the way down to their local mayor or even just the guards patrolling town. A lower official refers to his superior as {Last-name-da’ren}, and a higher official ALSO refers to their subordinates (who are not close friends of his) as {Last-name da’ren}. More nuances apply but generally these are the rules.

Worker/Trades person/Citizen, when talking to someone of higher class and wealth:

4) xiao de 小的 - “of little” 5) xiao ren 小人 - “little” “person”

Example: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji walks into an inn, the busboy greets them and says: Chinese: “二位公子，[小的]是这里的小二，二位打尖还是住店？” English: “Young masters, [xiao’de] is the busboy/waiter of this place. Would you like to take your meal here or check in for the night?” or basically “Hi! I am your waiter and I’ll be helping you today. Are we eating or checking in?”

Adults of Scholar/Gentries Status/Martial Artists in Pugilist Society/Cultivators:

6) zai xia 在下 - “is here” “lower” 7) wan bei 晚辈 - “later” “generation” 8) di zi 弟子 - disciple 9) lao sheng 老身 - “old” “body”

zai xia - The thing with old Chinese speech is that it inherently is overly politely. In many many cases, you always put yourself in the lower status when speaking to a stranger of unknown status because you don’t want offend the person you don’t know. Zaixia can be used by men, women, usually not too old. If you’re a senior man or woman you usually default to 9). Example: two cultivators who’ve never met fought off a ghoul together. After the fact, they introduce themselves. One of them says: “在下云梦江氏魏无羡，多谢仙友相助。” Meaning translation: “I am Wei Wuxian of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. Thank you so much for your help.” Literal translation： “[zai’xia] Yunmeng Jiang Clan Wei Wuxian. Much thanks cultivator friend for help.” This entire sentence contains neither ”I” nor “you”. But that’s just not... feasible to talk like that in English.

wan bei is used in CQL. Ex: A disciple of Yunmeng Jiang may refer to themselves as wan bei when speaking to a senior of another sect. When a disciple is speaking to a senior of their own sect, they will use “di zi” (disciple).

Family:

10). xiao xu 小婿 - “little” “son in law” 11). hai er 孩儿 - “child” 12). sun nv 孙女， sun er 孙儿 - “granddaughter” , “grandson” *there are more, but I’m use putting these up for examples*

In most families, there’s no need to refer to yourself in the third person. You’re family, just use “I”. But! In certain high society families, the rules are stricter and etiquette is everything. For example, places like Cloud Recesses with a stick up its collective butt would probably follow these rules. If Lan Wangji’s parents were still alive, he’d refer to himself as “hai er” to his parents. He would also refer to himself as “xiao xu” to Cangse and Wei Changze if they were alive. In Story of Minglan, Minglan refer to herself as “sun nv” when she’s speaking with her grandmother.

Government Officials

13). bei zhi 卑职 14). xia guan 下官 both of these mean the same thing “subordinate”. People use it when speaking to their superiors. Foot soldiers in the military will use 13, not 14.

15). wei chen 微臣 {wei chen} is used SOLELY with the royal family. If you are a government official of ANY rank, when speaking to the emperor, empress, dowager empress, you must use wei chen in formal settings. To a prince or princess or a royal concubine, government official can use 14 xia guan. Using “I” in front of royalty is very disrespectful. Exceptions do apply, but this is the overarching rule.

臣 - the word “chen” means subject. The term 君臣 refers to the special relationship of respect that exists between 君 the emperor, and 臣 the people who work on his behalf and whom he rules.

Royalty 16). zhen 朕 - no translation This is a special pronoun used ONLY by the Emperor and he uses zhen a lot. Like, there is no need for him to be humble or whatever and avoid using pronouns. It is his “I” and he can use it as freely as he likes.

17). ben gong 本宫 - “self” “palace” An Empress or a concubine of higher status (ie. a Noble Consort) use this to refer to themselves when they are talking to anyone of lower rank: citizens, servants, a government official, or a lower concubine. This places them in a position of power. Everyone who they’re using ben gong with should be lower than them in ranking. Remember when I said using “I” is rude, well in this case, a noble consort will not use “I” with a servant because she is more noble them, and they not “noble enough” for her to use “I” with. If it’s her close servants, her confidants, she can and often do use “I”, as a sign of familiarity.

18). pin qie 嫔妾, chen qie 臣妾 Lower concubines use “pin qie” and higher concubines use “chen qie” when speaking to the Emperor, Empress or Dowager Empress. The Empress uses “chen qie” when speaking to the Emperor or Dowager Empress. When chen qie or pin qie is used, the speaker is in a lower position than the person they’re speaking to.

19). er chen 儿臣 Princes and Princesses will use “er chen” with their fathers (the Emperor). In front of their mothers (Empress or concubine) and grandmothers, they usually use “I” or 11 “hai er”. If it’s a formal situation, they will switch to “er chen”. An Emperor will also refer to himself as “er chen” when speaking to his mother the Empress Dowager.

20). ben wang 本王 - “self” “lord/duke” An Emperor’s sons, brothers or male cousins are often qinwangs or junwangs (princes, lords, dukes). They will use “ben wang” to refer to themselves in formal settings to any one who is lower than them. In informal settings, they will use “I”. In formal setting when they’re talking to the Emperor, sons of the Emperors will use 19 “er chen”, brothers of Emperors may use “chen di” 臣弟, and cousins or more distant relatives will be simply “chen” or 15 “wei chen”.

21). ai jia 哀家 - “sad” “family” Empress Dowagers: literally the most respected and highest ranking person in any Chinese dynasty. She might not have any real power, but by rank she kneels to absolutely no one. No exceptions. Not even to her son who is the Emperor. He kneels to her. An Empress Dowager will use “ai jia” when she wants to be more formal, but to her family with whom she is close, she can and do use “I”.

Lastly, Jiang Cheng gets a special mention:

When Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen bring Wei Wuxian to Jinlintai at around ep 41, Jiang Cheng, being a total shit disturber says, “不知是那位名士大能，可否为江某引荐一番？”

Translation: “Who is this famous and talented cultivator? Could you introduce him to me?”

But lemme break that sentence down for you.

可否 = can or not 为 = for ��某 = Jiang “mou” 引荐一番 = make introduction.

He does not make use of “him” “you” or “me”. In English, when speaking in the imperative mood, aka, “put the dishes in the dish washer”, it is implied that ‘you’ are the person putting the dishes in the dish washer. Similarly, the ‘him’ and ‘you’ are implied in Jiang Cheng’s sentence, and the only “pronoun” he uses when referring to himself is “jiang mou”. If Jiang Cheng had used “you” or “him” in his sentence, it would’ve been ruder. As is, his sentence was still (albeit falsely) courteous.

The ‘third person’ speech in this context is the use of 江某 “jiang mou”. It is a fairly neutral third person noun. Unlike the above 21 examples, ‘mou’ doesn’t place a person in a position higher or lower than the person they’re talking to. They’re just saying “hey I am a person with the last name Jiang”. It is gender neutral and can be used by both men and women. It’s not limited to cultivators. Scholars can use it, nobility can use it, government officials can use it. (Your average farmer... probably doesn’t use it, because it’s just... not used.)

So that’s it.

There are definitely MORE nouns that are used in third person. These are some of the commonly seen ones. I hope it helps.

Again, this word vomit I just wrote is for general interest. It is absolutely not necessary to use it when writing fics in English. When in doubt, stick to using pronouns the way we would normally.

#language #cql #the untamed #cql reference #master list

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aspiringauthorintraining · 4 years

Text

The Johzenji Manager’s Contact List

“Come on, just gimme your number.”

You had been looking for Yuji and Bobata, who had gone off from the rest of the team. Hana noticed that the two were missing on the bus, and you volunteered to go look for them, knowing Runa would easily get lost if she were to have gone instead. That and along with the fact that you were the one who handled the second-years better than either manager.

After a good ten minutes of running around the building, you had finally spotted the two second-years in a corner harassing a girl, who seemed to be the Karasuno manager you had met earlier.

“Sorry. I have people waiting for me.” Kiyoko replied firmly.

“It only takes a second to give me your number. Our manager-“

“Yu-chan~” you called out to him sweetly, interrupting him.

The Johzenji captain and middle blocker both froze up at the sound of your voice.

Kiyoko, on the other hand, let out a relieved sigh at your appearance.

“Are these two punks bothering you, Kiyoko-san?” you asked, walking between them to shield her from the boys.

“Ah it’s okay, (Y/N)-san. I’ll be going then.” With a bow, she gave you a small smile and walked away, a cute character covered lunchbox in her hands.

You saw her almost bump straight into a frantic, short, orange-haired boy on her way out, before you turned to narrow your eyes at the two boys trying to back away slowly.

“Oi, did you both seriously leave the group to try to pick up a girl, who was clearly not interested in either one of you?”

“(Y/N)-“

“Have I taught you boys nothing?” you said shaking your head in disappointment.

“That’s not why we were-“

“I have failed as a manager.” you moaned dramatically. “I thought I raised you boys as nice, young gentlemen for the past two years. But clearly, I was wrong.”

Both boys rolled their eyes at your dramatics, before Yuji tried to speak up. But you held up a hand to stop him.

“You know what, I’ll deal with you two later on the bus. Everyone is waiting on us right now.”

Grabbing their hands, you dragged them outside, to where your team’s bus was.

Inside, Hana couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the three of you outside the window. You were snicking quietly in front while pulling the boys to the bus. Yuji was pouting dejectedly. And Bobata seemed unaffected by everything, allowing himself to just be dragged along.

You briefly talked to the coach near the front of the bus, letting him know everyone was accounted for, waving away the boys to go sit down. When walking back to your own seat, you raised a brow when you saw who your seat partner was.

“I’m surprised you came to sit here after I lectured you, Terushima-san.” you said while taking your seat next to him.

“We always sit together on the bus.” Yuji replied, a pout gracing his features. “And stop calling me that, (Y/N)-chan.” he added.

He was referring to you calling him with his formal title, instead of the nickname you always used on him.

You wanted to egg him further, but seeing his downcast look, you refrained from making any further comments. After all, you weren’t completely heartless. Instead, you pulled out your phone to send a text.

A soft poke on your upper arm grabbed your attention, though. You looked to Yuji with a questioning look.

“(Y/N)-chan, can I please explain what happened earlier?” he requested softly, which was a complete opposite of his normal tone and attitude.

In reality, you weren’t really mad at him or Bobata, indicated by your poor acting earlier, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, Kiyoko really did look uncomfortable, even if it wasn’t their intention for her to be, so he could wallow in pity for a little bit.

Yuji took your silent thinking as an okay to keep talking.

“When you came back from getting drinks from the vending machine, you mentioned that you met the Karasuno manager in line and thought she was cool.”

“…”

“And you always say that you don’t have many friends that are girls, since you spend all your time with us.”

You nodded, remembering telling the second-years during practice one day. Although, you were surprised that Yuji had remembered what you said in passing.

He continued. “Since you thought she was cool and all, I thought it would be good if you both became friends. You would have someone else to talk to about girl stuff other than Hana and Runa.”

Your heart melted at his words and him unable to look directly at you.

“So you harassed a girl for her phone number, so you could give it to me?” You couldn’t stop the smile forming on your lips.

“I didn’t mean for it to look like I was harassing her. I just went straight to the point, asking for her number, since we were about to leave soon.”

Yuji kept looking down at his twiddling hands, not noticing your growing smile. He clearly thought you were actually mad at him.

“What were you going to do if she didn’t give you her number?” you asked amused.

“That’s why I took Bobata. Because he’s good at persuading people.”

It was true. The Jozhenji middle blocker had a way with words. You knew that from first-hand experience, when he convinced you to become their manager after you were on the fence about which club to join. You also had a sneaking suspicion that he was the one who convinced Coach Anabara to wear a costume for Halloween last year. It was definitely a surprise no one saw coming. Except Bobata, maybe.

“And you didn’t bother to ask me if I already had her number?”

Yuji’s head snapped to you with wide eyes.

“You already got her number?”

Looking at you, he was surprised to see you giggling. He had expected another glare coming his way.

“Yeah, I asked her when I saw her again on the way to the bathroom with Runa-chan.”

“You should’ve told me!” he groaned, burying his face in his hands, embarrassed.

“I was going to, but you suddenly disappeared with Bobata, and well, you know the rest.” you explained with a shrug.

Seeing him unresponsive after a few seconds, you grabbed his hands, peeling them off his face.

“I don’t know whether I should be moved or angry at the fact that you tried to pressure a girl into being my friend.” you teased.

Instead of answering, Yuji kept staring at your joined hands, his calloused volleyball hands enveloped by your smaller ones.

“Yuji,” you said with a smile, trying to gain his attention.

“I-um.” He flushed red, embarrassed that he was caught staring. “I told you I wasn’t trying to harass her.” he whined cutely.

“Wait,” he paused, observing your grinning face. “Were you even mad at us to begin with?”

“Eh, not really.” you answered honestly. “I know you guys aren’t like that.”

Yuji’s face perked up at your words.

“I know you all well enough to know that you would never harass a girl. Well, not on purpose at least.” you added with a teasing smile.

A ping from your phone interrupted your conversation. Reading the notification, you smiled before quickly replying back.

“Who are you texting?” Yuji asked, trying to look over your shoulder, curiously.

“A boy.” you lied.

You saw him pout again from the corner of your eye.

“Just kidding, baka. I’m texting Kiyoko-san. I sent her a text earlier apologizing and explaining that you guys didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable.”

“Good.” Yuji sighed in relief.

You couldn’t help but keep teasing him, though. Not when he looked so cute when you did.

“Although, maybe I should ask her for the Karasuno captain’s number. He-“

You were cut off by him snatching your phone out of your hands.

“No.” he admonished. “No more phone numbers for you. You don’t need anymore.”

Laughing at his childish behavior, you tried to reach for your phone.

“Yu-chan~” you pouted at him.

You suppressed the grin from seeing him brighten at his familiar nickname.

“What if I get a boyfriend though? I’ll need to add his phone number when we start dating.”

Yuji looked at you with a betrayed expression, but quickly changed it to a grin once he saw the teasing glint in your eyes.

“Like I said, you won’t need anymore phone numbers.”

“But then how will I contact him?”

“Don’t worry. His number is already in your contacts.”

You smiled, realizing what he was saying. But you weren’t going to let him go that easily.

“Hmm, I see.”

He nodded along with you, thinking that you understood the underlying meaning behind his words.

“So you’re saying that I’ll date someone who’s already on my phone.”

“Yup.”

“So, Bobata is going to be my boyfriend?”

“Yup yup-wait what?”

You feigned ignorance at his confused expression.

“I guess it makes sense since we’re already so close. I wonder when he’s going to ask me-“

“(Y/N)!” Yuji cried out, astounded that you would even say that.

He didn’t notice that his voice was loud enough to gain the attention of the whole bus.

“It’s me! I’m going to be your boyfriend!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

All the boys and Hina snickered at their captain’s proclamation, while Runa’s eyes widened at his words. But you didn’t care, focusing solely on the boy in front of her.

“I can’t you believe you think of Bobata before me…” he grumbled quietly in his seat.

Not having the heart to make him suffer any longer, you grabbed his face to stop his sulking. Filtering out the rest of the people on the bus, you neared him, giving him a brief peck on the lips.

This time, the both of you blushed red at your bold action.

You were surprised at how quickly he bounced back though, quickly unlocking your phone to type in something.

You titled your head in confusion, not being able to see what he was doing with him hiding the screen from you. He was about to hand you your phone back, but paused last minute, pulling it in front of his face again. After he was finally done with whatever he was doing, while grinning to himself, he threw your phone back into your lap.

You were going to shrug it off, making a mental note to look at it later. But Yuji obviously wanted you to look at what he did, glancing repeatedly back at forth from you to your phone. Rolling your eyes at his eagerness, you opened the lock screen and your contacts list immediately popped up, highlighting a recently changed contact.

It took you a few seconds to realize what he had done.

“Well, if it’s in my phone I guess it’s official.” you relented, not even bothering to remind him he never asked you the question directly.

You didn’t want him sulking on you again.

___________________

Entering your room after Yuji walked you home from the bus, you heard another ping come from your phone.

To: (Y/N) From: Kiyoko-san

Message: I’m guessing those were from the boy earlier?

You furrowed your brows in confusion after reading the text from Kiyoko, before laughing out loud at the previous texts she was referring to.

To: Kiyoko-san From: (Y/N)

Message: If the owner of this phone ever asks for the Karasuno captain’s number, tell her she already has a captain’s number and it’s the only one she’ll ever need. Thank you.

To: Kiyoko-san From: (Y/N)

Message: Also, sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to come across as forceful. Was trying to get your number for my girlfriend.

To: Kiyoko-san From: (Y/N)

Message: Hehe. My girlfriend.

_______

(A/N): I didn’t want to like him, but the heart wants what it wants. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hope you liked it!

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu!!#haikyu imagine #haikyu!! imagine #haikyuu imagine #johzenji #johzenji imagine #johzenji x reader #terushima yuuji #yūji terushima #terushima yuji x reader #terushima yuji imagine

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lancermylove · 4 years

Text

Sleep? What’s That? (HC)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Victor x Reader, Gavin x Reader, Kiro x Reader, Lucien x Reader,

Warning: Gavin’s hc gets a little suggestive.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Hello!! Can I request an MLQC headcannon with an MC whose like “haha, sleep? Never heard of it” because she’s working at the company, and helping out other people? Maybe fluff? Haha- I think it’s quite fitting because of your name- be as creative as you like and alter whatever you need to do! Thanks in advance ✨

A/N: Hi! I wasn’t sure which guys you wanted, so I picked the main 4. Haha, I just went with my blog’s name for this hc’s title. I got a bit carried away with Victor’s hc...is my bias-y showing? XD

———————————————

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You thought someone was trying to break down your apartment door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Picking up your pace, you flung open the door, ready to give the visitor a piece of your mind.

"Ms. Chips! Are you okay?"

You were shocked to see Kiro standing at your doorstep. He was out of breath, and small beads of sweat covered his face.

"Kiro? What are you doing here?" You stepped aside to let him into your home.

"Savin told me that he saw Willow's post about you not sleeping enough! I rushed here as soon as I could."

You watched your boyfriend place a few bags on your coffee table before plopping onto the sofa.

"Kiro, what's all this?" You couldn't help but wonder why he was carrying so many bags.

"Well, I thought you could use a little help," he started taking the items out of the bag and placed them on the table, "so, I got some chamomile tea, melatonin gummies, a few fruits with magnesium, lavender oil, passionflower tea, a few vegetables that have glycine, and over-the-counter sleeping pills."

"Kiro, did you buy the entire grocery store?"

"Sorry, Ms.Chips, I wasn't sure which item would help you, so I just got everything." He flashed a toothy grin, causing you to laugh.

You couldn't help but hug your sweet boyfriend. "Sorry for worrying you, Kiro. I have been extremely busy with the company and helping people around town."

"Princess, you need to sleep!" Kiro placed his hand on his chin, "You know what? I have an idea."

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Savin. "Hey~! I am going to take the rest of the day off, take care of everything, okay? Thanks!"

Just as Kiro was about to hang up, you heard Savin screaming from the other side, "KIRO! YOU HAVE A LOT OF COMMITMENTS TODAY!"

"Kiro, are you sure that was a good idea? Wait, why do you want to take the day off?"

"Savin will handle everything. Ms. Chips, let's go to bed and not wake up until tomorrow. Actually, I don't want to hear anything...we are sleeping for the rest of the day, and that's final."

Kiro left you no choice as he threw you over his shoulder and carried you off to bed.

No getting sleep was nothing new to Victor. After all, he was the CEO of a very well known company, and on top of that, he had a reputation to maintain.

When Victor learned that you were not getting proper sleep, he wasn't surprised. Whenever you emailed your reports, Victor made a mental note of the time.

The first few times, Victor didn't think much when he saw 1 am, 3 am, 4:30 am. He assumed you were procrastinating, but when this became a frequent occasion, he began to worry.

One day, you received a text from Victor asking you to come to his office asap. No excuses.

You immediately thought that Victor was going to reprimand you for not sending in a proper report, but when you walked into his office, he seemed more worried than upset.

"Victor, is something the matter?"

"Yes. From now on, I want you to send in your report before 10 pm."

You expected Victor to give you a reason, but instead, he remained silent, awaiting your reply.

"T-That will be difficult to do." You bit down on your bottom lip, knowing well that your response was not going to go down well with your boyfriend.

"Why is that?" His face remained expressionless.

"Well, you see..." you started but decided to stop.

"Why are you always tired?" He asked and examined your face, "Your dark circles have gotten worse, and it seems as though you've lost weight."

Victor opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a stack of paper. He looked straight into your eyes before placing it in front of you.

"V-Victor, I..."

"You were in the hospital last week. Did you truly believe that you could hide this from me?"

"I am s-sorry. I knew you were busy and didn't want you to worry."

"Why are you not getting enough sleep?"

Taking in a deep breath, you told Victor the truth, "I have been volunteering, and there is a lot to do around the company. Anna has been sick, and Minor has to take care of a sick family member, so I have to do their work as well."

Victor sighed, "Did you think that I would get angry at you if you told me the truth? Your well being is more important to me than anything."

"Victor..."

After making a few calls, Victor turned his attention to you, "For the time being, you will solely focus on your company. I have asked Goldman to send a few employees of LFG to your company. As for volunteering, you will take a break from that."

"But-" Before you could make any excuses, Victor interrupted you.

"There are others in the city that can volunteer in your place. Also, you are still responsible for sending your reports in on time."

You were waiting for him to say this, but what Victor said next caught you completely off guard.

"Send your report to Goldman in bullet point form, and he will convert that into a formal report."

"What?" You gawked at Victor, thinking that you may have misheard his words.

Victor chuckled, "Dummy."

He rose to his feet and made his way to your chair. Victor picked you up and walked to the sofa in his office.

"Now, I want you to rest." He gently lowered you onto the black and white sofa before taking off his suit jacket.

Victor covered you with his blazer and took off your heels. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

After a few minutes, Victor turned his attention from his laptop to you only to find you sleeping peacefully. A rare smile appeared on his lips, "Sleep well, my beloved dummy."

After what felt like an eternity, you finished your volunteer work. Anna had warned you to think carefully before working on a show that required you to volunteer. You couldn't help but think that you should have listened to her.

The clock read 1:10 am, and your report was far from being finished. You were almost tempted to call your employees and ask for their help, but you decided against it. After all, the company was your responsibility.

You decided to take a break and walked over to your open window.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

You nearly lost your balance, but Gavin caught you.

Even though this was usually Gavin's way of visiting you, for some reason, you could never get used to it.

"Gavin? What are you doing here?" You regained your balance and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You have not been sleeping for the past few days."

"Huh? How do you know that?"

"I come to check on your every night." He gave a smile.

"You do? Are you that worried about you?" You pecked his lips.

Your action caused Gavin's cheeks to turn red. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking, "I always worry about you. Would you like to come out with me?"

"Well, I have a report due, but..."

Gavin smiled and lifted you out of the window. "It won't take long."

The night air was crisp and refreshing. The moon's brightness made the ocean shimmer. The cool air brushed your cheeks, causing you to wrap your arms tighter around Gavin's neck.

"Cold?" He asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"No, the air feels good."

By the time you got back, you felt so calm that you were able to finish your report in no time.

All the while, Gavin sat on the sofa and watched you with a smile.

After you finished, you took a shower and changed into your nightclothes. When you walked out, Gavin couldn't help but stare at you with wide eyes.

You had completely forgotten that Gavin was still there and had accidentally worn your revealing nightwear.

Your boyfriend rose to his feet and slowly walked towards you, taking in the beautiful sight in front of him.

"Gavin, will you be staying? It's pretty late."

You failed to notice the mesmerized look on Gavin's face. He wordlessly lifted you and carried you to bed.

After placing you on your bed, Gavin brought his lips closer to your ear and whispered, "You look beautiful. Don't let any other man see you like this."

After saying those words, Gavin quickly walked into your bathroom.

In your tired state, you had failed to notice a tent in Gavin's pants.

The next morning, when you saw yourself in the mirror, you realized what Gavin meant. Luckily for you, your dear boyfriend wasn't there to see you turning a hundred shades of red.

It was 3:45 am, and you were typing away on your laptop. Your mind was too preoccupied to hear a knock on your apartment door.

The sound of your text notification nearly made you jump from your seat.

My dear kitten, I know you're awake. I can see the light under your door.

You were confused for a second, but it suddenly hit you that the only way Lucien can see the light under your door is-

Rushing to the front door, you opened it to find your beloved boyfriend, smiling.

"I have been knocking for a while. You had me worried."

You let Lucien into your apartment while explained that you were too focused on your report.

"Dear kitten, sleep is an important commodity. Do you wish to impair your brain functions?"

"Of course not, but Lucien-"

"Have you forgotten that I am a neuroscientist? Sleep deprivation will negatively impact your body."

"But Lucien, your awake as well, and you don't sleep enough."

Your straightforward response startled your boyfriend. "I realize that, but my dear kitten, I do sleep. It does not seem as though you have slept recently."

"I have just been so busy, and I need to get the report in before morning!" You sighed and rested your head on Lucien's shoulder.

"Then shall we get your report finished?"

Though Lucien was a firm believer of "one has to do their own work", his concern for your health forced him to make an exception.

With the help of your genius boyfriend, you managed to get the report finished in half an hour. As soon as you submitted your report, Lucien carried you to your bedroom and placed you on your bed.

"Do excuse me for a second." He made his way to the bathroom, and after a few minutes, he returned.

"Lucien, are you staying here?"

"But of course. How else will I be sure that you receive adequate rest?" With those words, he got into your bed before pulling you close to him.

Your comfortable bed, Lucien's warmth, and his comforting scent were enough to help you relax. Soon, sleep began to consume you.

Lucien gently ran his fingers through your hair as he studied your sleeping face. "My love, do take care of yourself. You worry me more than you realize."

———————————————

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#mlqc victor #victor x reader #mlqc lucien #lucien x reader #mlqc gavin #gavin x reader #mlqc kiro #kiro x reader #mlqc headcanon #mlqc

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secondhandnewsradio · 3 years

Text

SHN INTERVIEW: Sleep Walking Animals

by Claire Silverman

photo: Ryan Hall

Sleep Walking Animals, the indie-folk alternative rock band from Manchester, England, have just released their self-titled debut EP. Since SHN first interviewed the band at the start of the year, they have released two more singles, started playing live shows again as restrictions opened up, and have announced a co-headlining tour around the UK in October. At their EP launch gig at the Fiddler’s Elbow in Camden on the 20th of September, they performed their new music to a sold out crowd.

CS: Congrats on the EP coming out. When we spoke back in February, you mentioned your plans for the EP, so it’s very exciting that it’s here now. How are you all feeling?

Tom: Like it's about time.

Jack: “Angus’ Fool.” “Wild Folk,” and “Dance Laura Dance” are on the EP, so we started recording this EP in October 2019. So it's been a big process, and the EP is kind of about that process.

Tom: We didn't want to release things until we were happy with everything, because we did record enough songs back in 2019 to go on an EP. But in post [production], we were a little bit concerned that they weren't all up to the standard that we wanted. It was our first time in a studio together as well when we recorded those songs, so we needed to practice, we needed to get together more and get more experienced in the studio. Then we ended up going up to Stockport and using a studio called Green Velvet Studios and we laid down five tracks, three of which are on the EP.

Jack: So, yes, excited.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: Is there an overarching theme across the EP?

Tom: It feels like it's very much about things that have happened to us in the time it took to put the EP together, and things that have inspired us enough to write about, you know, various introductions to people, to new experiences, illnesses, life events that sparked something within us to try to make a good song out of.

Jack: The whole EP spans across when we started the band in 2018 right up to now, so a lot of the songs are about growth and change. But the songs are about our growth musically as well, which is a nice kind of coincidence.

Tom: “Angus’ Fool” was the first song we ever wrote together, so the EP spans from our first song together to things we were writing in lockdown. So like Jack said it’s a span of two and a half years.

Alex: “Native” was written after we played Farm Fest [this summer].

CS: So now that you have more music out and have started to establish your sound, how did you figure out what genre of music you wanted to make?

Alex: It's funny, you just mentioned “Native” and I think that was the point that pushed us to fatten up the sound a little bit. I mean, the style of the song made us realize that we can push it a little bit more. And we have a few like one recorded songs, which are definitely a lot more rock-y.

Tom: We're inspired by all sorts of different bands as well. And, you hear it said a lot but a lot of great artists steal from other great artists and that's how they become great, so we're taking influences from people that we all listen to. So this is why it's hard whenever anybody asks “so what kind of genre of music do you play?” I can never really answer that because it’s changing all the time.

Jack: But I was saying to Bill the other day, (he's not officially in the band yet but he kind of is. He's the drummer who played with us on Monday) we've never really spoken about what genre we want to write. We didn't speak about influences, particularly.

Tom: We're just going with ideas. We all have our own little pockets of interest that we bring to the table and I think that’s what makes out sound quite unique

Alex: When someone brings something and then all of a sudden there's so many layers on top of it, which are coming from all kinds of different directions. And it's just hard to put your finger on what it actually is. But it's cool and we like it.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: It seems as though COVID restrictions are kind of mostly lifted here in England. At least, concerts are happening again. What's that been like, through the pandemic till now, and being able to play live shows again?

Tom: It’s been a massive relief, really, it means that we can get out there and get some gigging experience, start playing our stuff live. It's a completely different beast to be in the studio, it’s a completely different skill to have. And the more we do it, the more we’ll improve, and the more people will respond well to our gigs. There is such a massive impact from a live gig that you don't get from sitting down and putting your headphones in and listening to the Spotify track. You get the performance, you get the live engagement with music, and with the people on stage. That's just palpable.

CS: Since you're all performers, you're all actors, how do you think your other stage experience impacts your music?

Jack: That's an interesting one. Because I think the three of us are definitely coming out of acting and want to follow music, solely. Obviously, Tom, you both really well. [Laughter] And Nuwan’s also still following both. It's just something that when we are playing live, and it's going well, and there aren’t any technical issues, that we can just give ourselves completely to that moment. And I think that's easier for someone who has trained to do that, which is kind of what we did at drama school, I guess, to give yourself to the moment,

Tom: Yeah, there are great artists and performers, actors, musicians who haven't haven't gone through a formal training process. I think it's actually more important than training. Personally, I find the two things very different, being onstage as a member of Sleep Walking Animals and being on stage or on screen and being an actor in a role. I think the only similarity for me really, is the fact that when we go on stage as Sleep Walking Animals, I feel myself put on a character. I'm not Tom, I’m whatever else that is.

Jack: John. [Laughter]

Tom: I think we all do that whether we realize it or not. Because we'd be crippled with anxiety and insecurity and all the other horrid things that sort of flood into you when you're onstage performing in any way, you know, those don't happen or they sort of diminish if you put on that guise. So I guess that helps in that sort of transition.

photo: Claire Silverman

CS: You mentioned Farm Fest a bit earlier. What was it and how did it come about? And how was it?

Tom: So Farm Fest is a new, upstart festival that myself and my girlfriend Lottie host and organized. It's on her childhood farm and it's something that Lottie had wanted to do for a long time, to use that land to provide a space for a festival, entertainment, camping. We started it a couple years ago. There was that little bit of time between lockdowns where we got a weird freedom in the summer of 2020 and people felt like it had kind of gone away. Luckily, we all collectively know a bunch of musicians and comedians. It started small and then this year, we did it again. We charged a bit more money for tickets, and we are getting bigger and better. It feels like it's sort of gaining a bit of momentum. And it was the highlight of our year, we got to perform on a mainstage with a great sound set up. For us it was a big crowd to play to who all knew the songs and were singing along. It felt like a real festival, right.

CS: You guys are pretty active on social media, at least on the Sleep Walking Animals account. You guys don't always take things super seriously, which I like. What’s your approach to using social media? What do you think of it?

Jack: I wish we didn't have to. I think we probably all do realize the importance of it because Instagram is pretty much the only way of promoting anything, which is so fucking sad. Yeah. And I thought today, because Joe and I are reading a book about Joy Division and the start of the punk scene stuff, and they didn't even have t-shirts, because they wanted to stick it to the man and that kind of thing. But you just can't do that now. It's just like times have changed and there’s so many bands and so many artists that you have to be on it. Like, it will only be a matter of time before we go on to TikTok.

Tom: As an unsigned band without management or label yet, you know, we're left to do it on our own. Like Jack said, it's our only way of letting people know about our music. We might as well try and enjoy it if we've got to do it.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: Now that the EP is out, what are your future plans for the band?

Tom: World domination?

Joe: Recording.

Tom: Yeah, more tunes. We've got quite a few unrecorded ones. Keep doing what we're doing, really, following the footsteps of the people and bands and artists who have inspired us. Just keep going with it and see what happens. We're not putting immense amounts of pressure on ourselves. We do it because we love it. We do it because we think our music is worth pursuing. Yeah. Just see where the wind takes us.

CS: And you've got a tour coming up in October.

Jack: Yeah, a UK tour. It’s a co-headlining tour with Polary and My Pet Fauxes. So we're playing in different cities and we're all sharing the headlines slot and supporting each other at the different venues.

Tom: The 17th of October we're playing Leeds at Oporto, then on the 18th at Dublin Castle in London, the 19th we’re in Bristol at Crofters Rights and then the 20th at Night & Day in Manchester.

CS: Good luck for those shows and again, congratulations on releasing your debut EP.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

Listen to Sleep Walking Animals’ debut EP here

Follow the band on Instagram Twitter Spotify YouTube

sleepwalkinganimals.com

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newbie-weeb26 · 3 years

Text

Pool day (Chapter 2)

I was trying to write Chapter 4 for the mha series, but it got completely deleted after I tried to save it as a draft, so now we are doing OHSHC. Also y/n and Kaoru are going to have crushes on each other

Chapter 1 (Part 1) (Part 2)

“Y/N-chan!” Honey runs up to you and gives you a big hug. “Hi Honey-senpai. What’s going on?” He giggles and lets go of you. “Since its our day off, Kyoya-chan is taking us to his family’s waterpark!” Your eyes widen, and you were excited to say the least. You loved water parks ever since you were younger. “That’s awesome! Shouldn’t I get a suit though?” You look around. Hikaru and Kaoru look at you and smirk. “Don’t worry, we got you covered.” They say in unison. Next thing you know, you were picked up and taken to a room. “WAIT! PUT ME DOWN YOU TWO!” In the room, there were two girls dressed up as maids and a row of bathing suits behind them. “Is this one of the things where you literally just pick out a random bathing suit? Because I prefer a once piece.” Surprisingly, they gave you more freedom to choose. You picked out this one piece that has flowers on it.

Everyone heads to the waterpark and get excited along the way.”Haruhi, did you bring a suit?” You ask her. “No. Waterparks aren’t really my thing, so I just sit at the side lines. I do walk around a bit though.” You sigh. “That’s alright. At least you don’t sit around the whole time.” Tamaki looks at you. “I hope you didn’t pick out anything too revealing, Y/N.” You giggle and shake your head. “I don’t mind showing some skin. It’s pretty much normal at water parks.” Tamaki turns pale at the statement. Once you made it to the park, you run to the changing room and change. “Dang.” Hikaru said. “She is really excited about this.” Kaoru said. “That’s adorable.” He whispers, so no one can hear him. You walk out of the changing room with a towel wrapped around your body. Haruhi and the boys look at you. “I thought you didn’t mind showing some skin.” Tamaki said. “Well it’s not my fault that I felt a chill down my spine.” You walk to the chairs and take the towel off. The twins and Tamaki gasp and turn pale. “You boys need to learn how to control yourselves. Go change and have some fun at least.” They walk away and change into their suits.

Haruhi sits down next to you. “You know, that suit looks nice on you.” She gives off her smile. “Thanks.” They boys walk back in their suits. You look and see Kaoru shirtless. Your cheeks turn red and you hide your face. “What? Like what you see?” Hikaru and Kaoru say in unison. “Pfff no.” You get even more shy. You hear giggles in the pool area. You reveal your face and see Honey and Mori in the pool. That looks like fun, but you rather swim alone. You stand up and head to a separate pool to swim. You dip in and then go under. The boys go to swim at the other pool, while Haruhi and Kyoya sit on chairs, next to each other. You reach the surface and smooth your hair back. Before you know it, someone wraps their arms around your waist. “Hey, let go! I’m trying to swim here.” You try to get the arms off of you. “You know, you look really cool when you’re under the water.” Oh great, its Hikaru. “Yeah yeah yeah whatever Hikaru. Let me go.” You kick your legs out and try to escape. Hikaru takes a deep breath. Welp, you are going underwater. You also take a deep breath and Hikaru dunks you underwater. He lets go of you and you swim to the surface. You swim to the edge and sit on the edge of the pool. Then, a hand grabs your ankle. If Hikaru is there, then who is here? You look down and see Kaoru. “Got ya.” You scream and try to get your foot out of his grip.

Kaoru laughs and lets go. He gets out of the pool and sits next to you. “You know, it’s kind of nice to have another girl at the club. We have another girl to tease and joke around with.” You look at him and smile. “I never thought I would make new friends that fast. I gotta say, I never expected to have twins as friends. You two are actually pretty cool.” Kaoru looks at you and blushes. Cute. “Hey lovebirds. It’s time to eat.” Kyoya shows up behind you two and you slightly jump. “Alright, we’ll be right there.” Kaoru said. The both of you stand up and grab your towels. “Here, allow me.” Kaoru wrapped your towel around you. “Thanks.” You go over to one of the tables to meet everyone there. You sit next to Haruhi and Kaoru. Across from you is Tamaki, Kyoya, Honey, and Mori. Hikaru is sitting next to Kaoru.

Everyone starts to eat and Kyoya starts to speak. “Since we are all having a break from swimming, we should really talk about the upcoming dance.” You look at him confused. “What dance?” “Every year, the host club has a dance. It’s a formal event for all of the young ladies that we see.” Tamaki said. “We dance with everyone and vote the best dancer.” Hikaru said. “And the winner gets to kiss the prince Tamaki on the cheek.” Kaoru said. “But I’m not that good at dancing. I am very self conscious about that stuff.” You said with a nervous tone in your voice. “Well, that’s alright. I am also not that good either. Maybe one of the boys can teach you.” You smile at the thought. “That sounds nice.” You stand up to put your trash in the trash can. You sit back down and wait for your food to digest before getting back in the water. The twins on the other hand, just went straight back in. “You know you are going to get cramps right?” You warn them. “Yeah, she has a point.” Honey said. Out of nowhere, a big wave splashes over them, making them fall over. You cover your mouth and try not to laugh. Once Hikaru stood up, he slipped, causing him to fall again. You couldn’t hold your laugh back and just burst out laughing. It was your real laugh. You really didn’t do your real laugh during the couple weeks at the club.

You finally contain your laughter. “Oh boy that was great.” You wipe away a few stray tears from laughing so hard. Everyone was staring at you, causing you to wrap your towel over your head. “If you think that’s funny, then we should show you funny.” The twins said. They head toward you and pick you up, causing you to squeal. “Hey, put me down.” They both go to the deep end of the pool and throw you in. You scream and hit the water. You swim up to the surface. “Not funny you idiots.” The twins are laughing, so you decide to flip them off. Seeing that, they both jump into the pool, chasing you. “Oh no.” You start to swim away from them, until you felt a hand on your ankle. You soon feel fingers on the bottom of your sole, tickling it. “AH HEY LET GO!” You try to yank your ankle out of the grip.

They both come to the surface. “Alright, now we know one of your weaknesses.” Kaoru said. “That’s good to know for the future.” Hikaru said. You roll your eyes and swim to the shallow end. They follow you and get out of the pool. “She is very unlike Haruhi.” Hikaru whispered. “Yeah, she’s not as boring.” Kaoru said. Haruhi heard them and looked offended. “Hey, I’m not boring. Just because I don’t like a lot of stuff, doesn’t mean I’m boring.” All of you walk back to the table and wrap your towel around you. “She has a point.” You smile and go on your phone. While the hosts were talking, you get a call. “Oh shoot, I gotta take this real quick.” You run away and answer.

#ohshc #hitachiin #kaoru #hikaru #kyoya #tamaki #honey senpai #haruhi #mori #new fic #ohshc fic

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shinsousbedroom · 3 years

Text

Plus Ultra! Go Beyond the Screen!

celebrity AU drabble series, 3K~, quirkless actor Midoriya Izuku gets interviewed

[Read on AO3.]

GO BEYOND!

A conversation with Japan’s rising star Midoriya Izuku on standing up on set and off as the next symbol for peace. A GQ Japan exclusive.

By Taneo Tokuda | Correspondent

[Image of Midoriya Izuku, leaning next to a window, his body arched off the wall. His head is tilted up and over towards the camera, the left side of his body illuminated from the light coming in, the right side fading into the shadows. He’s wearing a sheepish grin, tugging at the tie around his neck with a single hooked finger, jacket sliding off his shoulders. He’s wearing Best Jeanist’s exclusive non-denim line, and the monocolor layering of velvets in the lighting make his green hair, red shoes, and tie pop in rich color even more.]

I’d been warned that Midoriya Izuku has no regard for outdated formality. He’s far from callous or jaded — sweet and optimistic are two words often used to describe him — but propriety is something he has never been concerned with.

I’d been warned, but I didn’t understand.

Any journalist who’s worked the entertainment beat for a while knows there’s a cadence every interview follows. The details may change, but there are conventional practices that help an interview go smoothly for both the interviewer and subject, to make the most of a complicated relationship between celebrities and the media.

This interview starts behind the scenes, as most do, with the e-mail I send out to Midoriya’s manager, laying out a request to speak with his charge. The enthusiastic response comes just an hour later and references details from a number of stories I’d written across the entire span of my career.

It isn’t his manager’s response. It’s Midoriya’s.

That was my second warning to assume nothing, but I still stumble into Midoriya’s apartment expecting a clean, contemporary, moderately-sized apartment. It’s rare to host interviews in celebrity homes, and when it happens, it’s meant to be a statement — power, wealth, pride, affected sincerity.

Instead, Midoriya opens the door halfway and apologizes because he moved in recently and there’s still a stack of boxes blocking him from opening it any further. The door handle nearly catches between the buttons of my shirt as I squeeze through the crack. Once inside, I trip over his trademark red shoes and nearly take him down in the process.

He catches me in his arms and says with a wry grin, “Don’t worry, I am here!”

That, of course, is a classic reference to his latest role: All Might. All for One will be a Netflix reboot of the old '80s superhero film franchise that turned Toshinori Yagi into a household name. In a casting coup that stunned fans and industry insiders alike, Midoriya fell into the role shortly after making headlines for saving a life during a villain attack on the set of long-running soap opera The Quirked and the Quirkless. The villain had been looking for Toshinori, and in his absence, grabbed a crewmember hostage. Midoriya attacked the villain despite having no quirk.

Soon after, Toshinori reversed his longstanding refusal to produce an All Might reboot and gave the studio a green light — with a stipulation. Just as the franchise had brought him up from obscurity, so must the franchise fill its ranks with youths aiming to catch their big breaks. Enter: Midoriya Izuku.

Midoriya sets me back down gently — yes, he picked me up when I fell, even though I’m a full half meter taller than him — and I’m more inclined to see his suitability as Toshinori’s successor.

Physically, he still looks nothing like his mentor. Where Toshinori is buff, Midoriya is lean, tall to his short, loud to his soft. Toshinori held his strength in the brash, nigh-cocky attitude that got him into as much trouble as himself as it did in the show as All Might. Midoriya carries strength like woven spider silk; it’s graceful and dangerous, but all too easy to overlook for those unused to subtlety. But he carries the same bright aura of unwavering love and determination.

More to the point, I also felt his arms and abs in the fall, and he may not look like he has the muscles of All Might, but they are definitely there.

“You can take a seat anywhere in the living room if you’d like,” Midoriya says, ushering me down the hall with a light hand on my back. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, but I haven’t put together the kitchen table yet, so living room it is.”

“Breakfast? Did we decide on a working breakfast?” I replied.

“I couldn’t invite a guest into my home without offering snacks! Since this interview coincides with breakfast, I made breakfast.” He pushes me towards the sofa and wags a finger at me when I try to follow him to the kitchen anyway. “No guests allowed to hover or help in the kitchen. It’s too small!”

The rest of the apartment is half unpacked, and haphazardly at that. Boxes are open, dumped out into piles on the floor where they will likely be permanently placed. I perch on the arm of a ratty sofa by the only portion of the room that’s been set up. It’s a veritable shrine to pro heros, fictional and real alike. Two of the five shelves are devoted solely to All Might merchandise.

Midoriya appears behind me, as if by quirk. “Ah, do you collect hero memorabilia? I’ve been a big fan of All Might since I was little, and then I started following hero society in general when I got into middle school, so I’ve built up a lot over the years especially rare items like if you look at the back corner there’s a particularly cool figure of All Might from the emerald era which if you remember was received so poorly that most of the merch was shelved in one location and subsequently destroyed during a villain attack…” He goes on without end or pause, taking me through the history of each item on the third shelf. At minute six, he abruptly tenses mid-sentence. I can almost feel the heat from his red face as he starts stammering apologies for wasting my time and gingerly puts his collection away again.

“You've got a lot of stuff I haven’t seen. It’s interesting.” It makes me uncomfortable how much he clearly doesn’t believe me. “It’ll be good content, that you have such a long history being an All Might fan.” He shrugs my words aside, and gestures behind me to a giant spread he’d laid out on the coffee table before seeing my interest in his collection.

We sit. For a moment, the only sound in the apartment is the clatter of silverware, the muffled bustle of Tokyo’s streets at midmorning a soothing counterpoint. I’m considering how to break the lingering tension I caused. But then —

“I’m a quirkless soap opera actor who seemingly got the biggest role of the decade for doing something completely unrelated to acting. I’m optimistic, not an idiot.” There’s a taut line to his shoulders again, at odds with the quiet, delicate way he drinks his miso soup.

His eyes trail back to the curio shelf of hero merchandise. A heaviness builds between us in the seconds it takes him to think. “I grew up in a neighborhood hostile to me and my mother. I mumble my thoughts out loud and have an obsession for heroes that edges past societally acceptable as an adult. I have no quirk, she had no husband, we had no money. Any insult you could say about us, I’ve heard it.”

He looks me dead in the eyes and leans forward. I can’t help but mirror him. “It would be disrespectful to everyone who supported me to get here if I let the back talk get to me. I worked hard for this role, and I earn it with every new day of effort I put into it. All Might is the symbol for peace, and I intend to embody that legacy. No one will be able to doubt me when I’m done.”

Anyone who’s familiar with Midoriya’s reputation knows not to be surprised by his humility, but it’s a revelation to see this drive, his earnest focus pinning down my full attention. The last bit of the puzzle that was his casting choice is answered in one overwhelming look. If All for One does it right, his magnetism is going to Detroit Smash every heart in Japan.

“The waffles!” He springs up and mutters his way back to the kitchen, cutting past the moment. “I forgot the waffles, Kirishima gave me a waffle maker the shape of All Might’s crest as a housewarming gift, they’re so cute and surprisingly detailed…” In just a few seconds he plops the plate down amid the overfull table and settles back into his seat with a smile. “So? Should we get started?”

Interview has been edited for length and clarity. For the full article, visit us online. Catch the first season of All for One on Netflix, streaming xx xxx.

[Image of Midoriya Izuku sitting outdoors on some sidewalk steps in workout gear, leaning back on one arm, the other hand raised to cover his face from the sun. He’s wearing bright green short shorts and a very loose tank top, the arm holes cut out so deep that the angle lets the photographer capture the sheen of oil and sweat across his ribs and back as light filters through the shirt. One sock is pulled up taut, the other scrunched down, same classic red shoes still on his feet. His legs and arms and hands are haphazardly wrapped in carefully grimed bandages, as is his makeup, smudges of dirt across his cheeks along with make up to bruise his lips a deep, pouty red. Boxing gloves hang over his shoulders, and a bandana mimicking the famed mouth guard from All Might’s most iconic outfit hangs around his neck.]

TT: Congratulations on your first starring role! How does the move from semi-recurring character to protagonist feel?

MI: It’s a huge challenge, one I’m incredibly excited for! My character in Quirkless wasn’t supposed to be mine. I’d already been involved with the show as a quirkless consultant but one day on set, they’d had a huge scheduling conflict, and Director Ryuko remembered I’d originally auditioned for the show for a character that was ultimately cut. She brought me in as a literal last minute replacement, and soon enough a three-episode run expanded into a semi-regular spot next season. At least with All for One I’ve had tons of time to prepare.

TT: Take us through what it was like getting the role of All Might.

MI: I think the media explained the villain attack that brought me to the studio’s attention plenty. What's more important is when after I recovered, Toshinori-san contacted me and connected me to his talent agency, and my new manager was the one that successfully nabbed me an audition for the new show. They had us go through a few standard readings and chemistry checks, and then I got the part.

TT: You auditioned?

MI: I did! That’s what makes the rumors of favoritism even more frustrating. I promise I didn’t get the role because I stopped a villain attack on set! Well, I hope I didn’t.

[File photograph of Toshinori Yagi and Midoriya Izuku post-hostage situation. The stage is in disarray, black goop covering the furniture and floor of a fake hospital waiting room in a thick layer of sticky slime. They stand off-center in the foreground, Midoriya rubbing a fist over his eye, exhausted, possibly crying, as Toshinori pulls him into his side for a hug. Both have shock blankets draped across their shoulders. Emergency respondents case and clean the scene in the background.]

TT: How does it feel to take up the mantle of one of the most iconic comic book characters of all time?

MI: I’d be lying if I didn’t say nerve-wracking, but I’m more excited than anything. I’ve dreamed about this since I was 5, when the doctors first told me I’d never have a quirk and never be a licensed hero. All that love was redirected toward All Might. Some people might say being too big a fanboy will make playing him hard, but I’ve been preparing for this my entire life, and that’s what I’m trying to hold on to instead of anxiety. Toshinori-san has also been a spectacular mentor to me through this whole process.

TT: It's been said that Toshinori-san implemented a rigorous vetting process to work in any position on the crew. Recommendations, mentorship networks — because everyone is new to film.

MI: That’s only true to a certain extent. I wouldn’t say most of us are complete newcomers; we’ve all been around the industry for a fair number of years making our careers off it one way or another. We definitely wouldn’t have gotten hired to such prominent roles without Toshinori’s interference, yes. Because of his stipulation, the studio wanted to minimize as much of the havoc inexperience might cause such a beloved, big budget reboot by offering us close, mandatory support networks featuring industry professionals who’ve been working in their field for decades.

So far, the idea has really worked out well. We get to implement fun new ideas we don’t realize are impossible yet, and the mentors temper our more […] impractical ideas with logic and experience. The cast also has gotten a lot of support from the old cast of the '80s run!

TT: You’re known for being an advocate for quirkless rights in the entertainment industry. Has that impacted the way you approach your career and what opportunities you take?

MI: It isn’t just the entertainment industry I’m interested in for my advocacy work. Society’s rabid obsession with quirks is a problem across all of Japan, for both the quirkless and those with quirks. But as an actor, I happen to have personal insight with the roadblocks that prevent quirkless individuals from succeeding in film. We make up a fourth of the Japanese population, but less than 1% of the Japanese Film Union, in the mere century from when quirks first showed up across the globe. There’s no other explanation for such a miserly diversity rate than discrimination.

Studios have gotten so used to using quirks to sift through application stacks, looking for who can offer the most with just a quirk name and description. Toshinori-san has easily admitted that the electricity he emits when engaging his strength quirk was one of the reasons he won the role of All Might over better known actor Todoroki Enji. It was one less special effect the studio would have to spend money and time on. Viewing accommodation as a costly complication is historically dangerous to all types of minorities across the globe. How am I supposed to compete when people think I can’t offer anything unique compared to the host of wild quirks out there?

TT: Wow, that’s quite the speech.

MI: I’ve practiced a few times.

TT: Really?

MI: Quirk discrimination was my thesis topic at UA.

TT: You went to UA? That didn't show up in my research.

MI: Oh, I […] was in their support program for a while.

TT: Why did you decide to pursue acting instead? They don’t have a fine arts program, do they?

MI: As much as I love support work, it’s a stressful field. [Laughs] I started looking for an outlet that had nothing to do with hero work when an old friend dragged me onto a set. I’d completely forgotten how much I loved acting, and it wasn’t long before I decided to pursue that over support work, for however long it would have me.

TT: Would you ever consider returning to support work?

MI: Yes, but it gets harder the longer you’ve been away. I still keep up my qualifications, and keep up with my old classmates. Some consulting here and there. But for now, I’m happy using my background to help me act a better All Might.

[Photograph of Midoriya Izuku sitting in an office chair, facing three-quarters towards the camera even as he lays half across a desk. The decor is rich: old, dark wooden furniture, ornate work across the frame of the chair and desk, half-filled bookshelves in the background. His cheek rests against his arm stretched along the edge of the deck; one leg is tucked under the seat and the other is extended out. His outfit is artfully ripped name brand jeans and a tight shirt, color blocked in All Might’s classic red, white, and blue. Tiny figurines of All Might in his various costumes across all his comic book and screen appearances dot across his body as if they’ve climbed across his body, and Midoriya is an Atlas holding the weight of these ideals across his shoulders and arms and legs, a Gulliver tied down and overwhelmed. But his expression is vibrant, determined. Not quite a smile, but nowhere near defeated.]

TT: Does it bother you, having your quirklessness constantly be the focus of your career and identity?

MI: Of course! I’m a lot more than the superpower I don’t have. I’m a pretty private person, but I want to do great things. I want to inspire people, to make everyone feel safe and like they belong. If that means I have to feel some discomfort, it’s more than worth it. I’m a big kid with a therapist, so I’m prepared to balance my needs with those of my career.

TT: I’m not helping, am I?

MI: Like I said, I’ve deliberately opened myself up to that focus when I’ve put myself out there as someone willing to talk about these important issues publicly. You’re not asking anything I wouldn’t expect of any good interviewer.

TT: Speaking of privacy, your co-worker Todoroki Shouto is infamous for his taciturn personality and complete seclusion from the public eye, even during personal interviews. What is it like working with him on set?

MI: I have a bone to pick with you journalists about that! Remember what I was saying about how quirk reputations hurt those with strong quirks as much as those without? Todoroki Shouto is a wonderful person, and I’m so glad we get to work together. But boy, that reputation of his does him a disservice. He’s more than just Endeavor’s son and a powerful quirk. […] He’s his own man with a lot to say — it’s just no one’s asked him the right questions, yet. Once you do, you’ll find he shines brighter than any of the characters he’s played. It’s frustrating to see a good man overlooked again and again in favor of easier topics like a flashy quirk and flashy father.

TT: One last question. Isn’t it a hassle to squeeze past those boxes each day to use the front door?

MI: I don’t use the front door.

TT: Then…?

MI: Wouldn’t you like to know? ■

#bnha #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #midoriya izuku #taneo tokuda #quirkless midoriya izuku #celebrity AU #BUT THERE ARE STILL QUIRKS GIVE ME MORE CONTENT ABOUT QUICKS FUNCTIONING IN NORMAL SOCIETY AND THOSE IMPLICATIONS #lolo's fic writing tag

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writing-royza · 4 years

Text

Royai Week Prompt Three - Old Wounds

Old Wounds

Weapons could be used to wound. Any first-grader that got a lecture from their mother about scissors and sharp knives knew that. But he had hit upon one that, although it had wounded him time and again, it also healed him. Riza had been the cause or reason for several major marks inflicted on him – physical and psychological – and yet Roy knew he’d never be able to let go of her. On the surface, sure. Physically, yes. But never in the deepest recesses of his heart.

Because any wound she caused or he incurred on her behalf, he had only to look at her for it to fade away.

———————-

Logically speaking, he shouldn’t be scared of her.

She was a lone thirteen-year-old girl that kept to herself, did her homework, kept a level head on her shoulders, and somehow still managed to keep the entire house (besides the library) clean and have a hot meal ready at the end of the day. There was absolutely nothing about her that should make him break out in the cold sweat that every hormonal teenage boy dreaded… but that was the exact effect she had on him.

If there was anyone with the last name ‘Hawkeye’ that he should be scared of, it was her father. Her terse, intimidating, single-minded father… but somehow, he garnered much less fear in Roy’s book.

He sat on the overstuffed couch in the study, both feet on the floor, both hands on the book in his lap… and tried to recall what he was supposed to be reading. Every muscle was tense, his jaw clenched, he was afraid to move… and all she was doing was sitting on the opposite couch, facing him, scribbling on a notepad and occasionally checking some bit of information in the book beside her. Her legs were tucked up underneath her, the toes of her bare feet wiggling idly as she worked, light concentration turning those already serious brown eyes somber. That was as much as he could see without lifting his head and making it obvious he was watching her.

Finally, enough of the tension eased from his chest to allow him to speak. “What —“ Having been quiet for so long, his voice gave one of its embarrassing mid-puberty squeaks, and he coughed to unsuccessfully cover it. Riza looked up, and he almost lost his nerve, then swallowed hard and tried again. “What are you working on?”

“Oh.” She held up the book. “Book report. Although it’s less of a report and more of a ‘I hope I’m getting this right,’ because the prose is heavy and kind of hard to understand.”

Roy tried a smile. “Yeah. I recognize the title. That’s a rough one.”

His heart started racing as she returned the smile – in a very pretty fashion for someone so terrifying, he had to admit – before she shifted to sit with her back braced on the armrest, her knees drawn up to create a kind of easel for her notepad. “I’ll still take this over my math homework any day.”

“You have trouble with that, too?” Curiosity was drawing him in, now. At her confirming nod, he set his book aside. “Maybe I can help. I mean… I’m a couple years older than you; chances are I’ve had to deal with it already.”

The look she gave him was sidelong, evaluating the offer. After a moment, she said, “Well… I understood basic trigonometry well enough. Sine, cosine, all that. But we just started talking last week about “functions” and I’m already lost.” Her lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “You might say my math skills have become… non-functional.”

He knew he was staring at her. Open-mouthed, no less. He hadn’t been expecting a joke like that, not from her. She was so quiet, so reserved…. This had to be once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing for her. Laugh, he thought hazily. Laugh before she gets insulted and puts you out of your misery for good.

He settled for a smothered snort, shaking his head with a grin. “I might be able to help a little bit. That stuff was clear as mud to me, as well.” He looked up, still smiling. “What do you say – shall we make it a study date?”

It was exactly the wrong phrasing to use. He saw her walls go up, saw her dart back into her shell… a dozen metaphors came to mind, all leading to the same conclusion. Roy had firmly overstepped his bounds, had trod on this already tenuous new ground, and stepped directly on the new flower of a possible friendship.

You don’t use the word ‘date’ that fast around a kid like her, idiot, he scolded himself. If she didn’t already barely tolerate you, now she’s just going to think you’re a creep. How are you going to fix —

“I… don’t think a date is necessary.” His train of thought cut off abruptly as she dropped her feet to the floor, gathered her book and notepad, and rose. “I should go,” she added quietly. There was no other emotion in her voice, no obvious discomfort, no open dislike… and somehow that was worse. More condemning.

Roy could think of nothing to say as she headed for the door. His mind was reeling with a combination of embarrassment, rejection, and returning fear, all three emotions leaving painful little scratch marks on his heart. Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, he managed a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

Riza froze instantly, then turned to look at him. “Pardon?”

Swallowing the hurt, he sat straight and forced himself to look her in the eye. “I… made that really awkward, and put you in an uncomfortable position,” he said, knowing he sounded overly formal but not having any idea what other words to use. “I’m sorry about that.”

She watched him for several agonizing heartbeats, her expression unreadable, then nodded. “Apology accepted.” She tilted her head, that small smile coming back. “And, hey…. I said no to the date part, not to some help studying. If you’re still willing.”

———————-

Sometimes, he wished he had paid more attention to constellations and important stars in school. Alchemy, chemistry, physics… that had all come first in his mind, not little points of light in the night sky that would still be there when he decided to take the time to learn about them.

Of course, in Central, seeing stars at night was a rarity. The streetlights dimmed them, if not causing them to vanish altogether. At the Academy, he’d been so tired every night when he finally crawled into the bunk that he couldn’t stay awake to stargaze even if he’d wanted to.

But here, in the desert landscape of Ishval, the sky came alive at night.

Lying on his back, dark eyes wide, he stared the sparkling skyscape overhead, trying to memorize all the stories Riza would spin for him, trying to memorize name after name… and failing horribly. He alternated between watching the sky and watching the graceful movements of her fingers as they traced shapes on the starry backdrop.

“This one is Eagle’s Flight,” she said, pointing to a cluster of stars in the shape of a capital T. “The tip of one wing, to its head, to the other wing, with the tail back here. And this is the first one I learned about: Mother Bear.” She traced an uneven rectangle between four stars. “The body…” Her finger trailed along several bright dots. “…a tail…” In front of the rectangle, she added a triangle that culminated in a single forward-facing point. “…and her head.”

He couldn’t help himself. “Bears don’t have tails that long.”

“Seen many bears, have you?” she shot back easily.

Rolling his eyes, he gave up, pointing instead to another section of stars. “What about that one? Is that anything?”

Riza thought a moment, then nodded. “The Seated Queen. She said that she and her daughter were more beautiful than any sea nymph, and that made the god of the sea so angry that he sent a sea monster to destroy the kingdom. The only way he would stop was if the queen and her husband sacrificed their daughter to the monster.”

He turned his head so that he could see her, lying on her back in the sand like he was, her eyes on the stars. “…You’re kidding. You’re making that up.” She shook her head. “What kind of crazy fairy tales were you reading as a kid?!”

“It’s not a fairy tale, it’s a legend,” she corrected him, though teasingly. “Anyway, the daughter was saved before she could be eaten, by a hero – that’s his constellation over there – and the queen and her husband – over there – were placed next to each other in the stars.”

“Hey, that’s a good deal,” he said dryly. “Agree to sacrifice your daughter and be immortalized forever as a bunch of balls of hot, burning gas.”

She laughed quietly, and the two of them sank into companionable silence. Roy breathed deep of the cooling air, wondering how a moment like this – a moment of personal peace and relaxation – could be achieved in the middle of a warzone. He had almost no right to be lying here, calm, when tomorrow he could be sent back out with the first wave of a new attack.

He turned his head slightly, just enough so that he could see her, and watched her eyes still roaming the sky. They flitted from one group of stars to the next, trailed the lines that, of the two of them, only she could see. He could see a shadow of that young girl he’d known, had helped to figure out math homework in the dusty, close confines of her father’s personal library.

Back then, she’d had bruised and scratched-up legs from being outside every moment she could. The soles of her feet were blackened and calloused, requiring a scrub in the bathtub every night, from going barefoot in the summer heat. She had climbed trees with the best of them, swum in the small stream two hundred metres behind her house, and sat perfectly still to let a butterfly alight on the palm of her hand while he watched breathlessly.

And now she was here, with him. She wore the same uniform he did. She had the same tired, dark circles under her eyes that he did. Her hands held the same bloodstains as his… and it was all his fault. She had followed him to this place, and in doing so, he had condemned her, body and soul.

He looked away quickly; too quickly. She noticed.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, casually, knowing that the answer wasn’t going to satisfy her. “Just thinking.”

A moment of silence, then, “Not thinking.” Her voice was soft, knowing and sympathetic… but unyielding. “Brooding.”

“Hm.”

Her elbow nudged his ribs. Not painfully, but enough to signal that a second nudge might not be as gentle. “Say it aloud,” she advised. “It’s not going to do you any good if it just sits and festers in your mind.”

Roy held his tongue, trying to wait her out. If he didn��t admit what he had been thinking, she couldn’t hate him for it. She couldn’t hate him for drawing her into this life, for using her father’s research the way he was. She couldn’t hate… him.

But he should have known better than to try to out-wait a sniper. Finally, after fifteen minutes of near-deafening silence, with her head turned so that her eyes were staring holes into his cheek, he let out a a deep sigh. “All right, all right, you win already. I was just… I was thinking that… I’m sorry. Sorry that I drew you into this life.”

Riza said nothing, and after several awkward seconds, he sat up, staring out at the nighttime sands. “I’m sorry that you felt you had to follow me into the military, that it got you sent here, that you’re forced into doing… what it is we do.” More long seconds of silence followed, twisting the knife of guilt a little further into his heart. “I’m so sorry, Riza. For all of it.”

“Does that include thinking so little of me that you believe I’m incapable of my own decisions?”

His head whipped around to find her still lying flat on her back in the sand, her legs crossed at the ankles, her fingers laced together and resting at the bottom of her ribcage, her eyes calm and on the stars once again. “…What?”

“What what?” she countered. “Do you honestly think that I followed you into the military because of some schoolgirl crush? Or maybe you think that you spoke so eloquently about rebuilding the country and using alchemy to help people that I just threw away whatever dreams I had of a civilian life and dashed headlong for the nearest recruitment centre?” She snorted quietly. “Give me some credit, please.”

Roy wasn’t sure what to say, either in general or that wouldn’t make her angrier than she clearly already was, so he kept his mouth shut. Riza continued. “You may have sparked the idea, pardon the pun, of joining the military, but you’re far from the reason I enlisted. I made that decision on my own, based on my own interests. Yes, that led to me being stationed out here, yes, that has led to my having to do things I regret. But in all of it – enlistment, training, being assigned to Ishval – the only point where my hand was forced is in, as you said, doing what we do.”

She got to her feet, brushing herself off. “I gave you my father’s secrets, Roy. I didn’t give you control over my actions or my life. You want to be a leader? You’d do well to remember that.”

Turning, she started back toward the nearby glow of the tents and campfires, leaving him feeling as though one of Kimblee’s explosions had gone off directly underneath him. It sank in, slowly, like ice-cold fingers, that he had probably just ruined one of two genuine friendships he had in this hellhole, and when Hughes heard about this, he could kiss the second one goodbye as well.

You idiot, his mind growled at him. Get off your ass and get after her. Don’t lose her after all you’ve been through.

Scrambling to his feet, he took off, sending sand flying. “Hawkeye, wait up!”

To his relief, she paused, half-turning to watch him approach. Her expression gave nothing away, neither anger or willingness to forgive. Roy skidded slightly as he came to a halt, swallowing hard in nervousness. “I – That was… unfair of me. I assumed a lot of things out of… of guilt, I guess, at finding you here, in a place like this. I feel….”

He struggled with the words for the moment, but she waited, hands folded, watching. “I feel… responsible for you, somehow. Your dad asked me to look after you, and up until now, I’ve done a pretty piss-poor job of that.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, trying to figure out just how the hell expressing oneself was supposed to work. “You were right, the decisions that brought you here are yours. You’re responsible for your own life. I guess… I just feel guilty that I haven’t done more, and can’t do much, to make sure it’s a happy one.”

When it was clear his words had run out, she spoke. “Would you like to know something that does make me happy?”

He grinned lopsidedly, and only half-heartedly. “Will it make me feel less awful?”

“Maybe.” Her smile was small, knowing. “Something that makes me happy… is seeing someone receive information, and accepting that information and using it to change their outlook. To grow themselves as a person.” She tilted her head to one side, regarding him closely. “And I believe I just saw that.”

He felt it go, felt that cold ice-knife of guilt slide out of the rip it had torn into him, felt the warm, affirming words close up the wound with no blood spilled, and leave him just a little stronger.

“I’ll try to live up to that.” He glanced upward. “Maybe it’s not worth being immortalized in the stars, but it ought to count for something.”

Her fingers brushed, feather-light, against his and then withdrew. “It already counts for a lot.”

———————-

He remembered thinking “oh, good, that’s the last of it” before catching a faint whiff of charred skin, and having to turn away to be violently sick. The tent was too confined, too dark, too oppressively hot all at once, and yet his pulse roared in his ears, spots of light swam in his vision, and a deep chill ran through him.

He spat the foul taste of bile from his mouth, glancing back over her shoulder.

Riza was on her knees, crouched low, her forehead pressed to the sandy ground that served as a floor. He could hear her breathing, the sound coming in sharp hisses around the leather belt clamped between her teeth. Her right hand, the only one he could readily see, slowly clenched and unclenched, compressing and flattening the same palmful of grit over and over.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Hawkeye?”

Her hand froze, then reached with agonizing slowness to the belt and pulled it from her mouth. “Bottom of my kit,” she gritted. “Small white bottle. Get it.”

Roy’s stomach rolled as he moved to do as she said, but he swallowed hard and kept whatever was left in his stomach down. Wriggling a hand through the various articles in her pack, down to the bottom, he fished about until he found something that felt like a bottle. It rattled as he brought it out.

“Pain pills?” he asked, turning toward her.

“For… you know.” She had shifted so that she was sitting, though she was still bent forward. Her cheeks, ashen until now, coloured slightly. “For… ‘women’s troubles?’”

He looked at the label again, read the active ingredient in the medication, and the dosage, his brain feeling fuzzy and sluggish. “…Damn, it hurts bad enough for extra-strength?”

She held out her hand, crooking her fingers impatiently. “Dealing with that means I can deal with this,” she said, just a little sharply. “Two should help.”

“Right, sorry.” He noticed, belatedly, that his fingers were shaking as he twisted the cap off the bottle. The little white tablets inside rattled even harder as he eased a pair of them from the container and passed them to her, watching in dull surprise as she dry-swallowed them, one by one.

He had a sneaking suspicion he was in shock. The one rational part of his brain could realize that. The confusion, the cold sweat, the tent seeming to tilt one way then another around him… all signs pointed to it. He should tell Riza, tell her so that when he most likely passed out, she would know why. It seemed only polite.

She was sitting calm and collected, her eyes closed, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Maybe he should try that. Mimic her, and in doing so, find some kind of emotional anchor in this storm of emotion.

It hit him again. What had he done? To her, to one of the single most important people in his life, to the quiet girl and stoic woman whom – he had to admit – he had somehow fallen head over heels for? He had marked her. He had marred her. She had been perfect and whole and now —

He watched as she gathered the tan overcoat of her uniform to her chest, apparently realized rather belatedly that she was sitting in the dark without any sort of covering up top. She hugged the fabric, looking his direction… and stopped. “…What?”

“…Can you forgive me for this?”

Brown eyes, dulled slightly by the pain, stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly, “Roy, I asked you for this. I asked you to destroy it.”

“I didn’t. Destroy it, I mean. Not all of it.” Her eyes flashed with hot anger in the darkness and he scrambled to explain himself. “Riza, I couldn’t! I don’t care how strong you are, that much would…. Even if I held back the most I could, it’d kill you. You can’t go to the medics with this, you know you can’t. They’ll ask too many questions. If I burned that tattoo in its entirety, you’d go into shock and you’d die. Hell, I’m in shock and all I did was snap my fingers!”

Her eyes still smoldered, unrelenting. “So then how —“

“The parts I burnt are absolutely vital to understanding everything else. They tie it all together,” he explained. “It’s… it was surgical, I guess. Precision shots. Without those three spots, the rest is next to useless.”

She was quiet for several beats, then murmured, “Precision shots…. Like a sniper.” The heat was gone from her eyes, the glare fading. “I’m…. I can still be my own person.”

“You always have been.” The smile he offered was nowhere near strong enough to be genuine, but it was a valiant try. “You’re the smartest, strongest, most independent, self-reliant, quick-witted person I know. I’d keep going with adjectives, because I know there’s at least three dozen more, but I can’t think of them.” He closed his eyes, willing the tent to stop spinning, or at least to spin a little less violently. “I want that for you, I want you to have that freedom to be yourself because if any of us deserves to come out of this place with even half a chance, it’s you. It’s you and Hughes.”

“You’re leaving somebody out,” she prodded gently.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you realize how badly this place has hit home for me. I said I wanted to help people, but… I think I’ve got an entire nation – and any others we’re fighting with – to help. I’m not dragging you two into that. Hughes has that girlfriend of his to go home to, you’ve got the rest of your life in front of you.”

“You’re right on that, but wrong on another thing.”

His eyes opened just in time for her to press a soft kiss to his cheek, her hand folding around his. “I’m not leaving here without you.” The words were soft, but anchored stolidly in conviction. “You’ve got big dreams for this country… and thanks to you, so do I. And you’re going to need help to make those happen.”

———————-

His eyes snapped open to darkness, but it wasn’t the darkness of lying on the sand under an Ishvalan sky. Instead, only the whitewashed ceiling stared back at him. The sheets were tangled around his legs, some faint draft turning the sheen of a light sweat icy against his bare chest. Even that did nothing to dispel the summer warmth permeating the apartment.

Nights like this often brought the past back to him in dreams. Sometimes pleasant, more often not. But more and more frequently in the not-too-distant past, it had become much easier to handle.

The reason why was sprawled next to him, her hair lying half on her pillow and half on his, one hand beneath the pillow and the other curled to her chest, her dog draped over one extended leg, and her mouth open just enough for the faintest of snores to issue forth.

Turning onto his side, Roy slid an arm around Riza’s waist, tugging her close against him. If she only knew that she became as un-Riza-like as physically possible while she slept…. He suspected she would find that potentially embarrassing, but he loved it. Hell, he loved her.

And, in the end, that was the miracle balm for any wound, no matter how far in the past or near the present it was.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfiction #fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza

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fourdaysofrain · 5 years

Text

(Machine) Learning to Love

Summary: Karen learns what love means.

(In that happy, irondad place between Homecoming and Infinity War)

Read on AO3

Emotions are something uniquely organic that can neither be quantified nor put in a box with a precise definition. Human vocabulary tries its best to put a label to each feeling, but there is a certain undefinable quality about each one that can’t be explained unless someone has felt it themselves. Artificial Intelligences can be programmed to recognize the physiological signs of emotions in a user, but can’t have any of their own. Therefore, it’s extremely difficult to program emotions for them. It’s extremely difficult, at least, for most programmers.

---

Peter was injured. Karen could see it in the irregularity of his heart rate, the dilation of his pupils, the tear in his suit, and a million other minutiae invisible to the naked eye. She focused some of her processing power on the information coming from his mask. He was currently in the final steps of apprehending a duo of petty thieves, their knife and stolen vodka bottles in the process of falling to the ground below them. Karen filtered through her list of responses to injuries and chose the one that would create the most agreeable response from Peter before the clatter of the items hitting the asphalt could be interpreted by her auditory processors.

“Peter, you seem to be injured. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” she asked.

“No-” Peter cut off with a sharp breath as he finished webbing up the thieves. She sent an anonymous message to the local police as he continued, “No, that’s okay Karen. I don’t want to bother him, I’ve been stabbed before. I can just stitch myself up in the bathroom. May even bought me my own first aid kit! I mean, it’d be rude if I didn’t use it, right? I don’t even think it needs stitches, actually, but I may as well put it to use. Just to be polite.” Karen’s memory told her that Peter tended to speak faster when injured, anxious, or lying. He seemed to be all three at the moment.

“I’m sorry Peter, asking is just a formality. With the updated Baby Monitor Protocol, I am required to alert Mr. Stark if you are harmed by any weapons or firearms.”

Before being returned to Peter, Tony Stark had upgraded her code to include more protocols and less ability for Peter to refuse intervention. He also spent time adding to her psychological database, with the hope that she could become a quasi-therapist to the growing teen by helping him talk about his feelings and personal life when he feels uncomfortable bringing it up with anyone else. He called it the Hormone Protocol. Tony had called Pepper in and laughed with her when he thought of the name.

“Stupid Baby Monitor… Karen, you used to be so cool.” Karen detected less weight on the soles of the suit’s feet. Peter was now leaning heavily against a wall.

“I am alerting Mr. Stark of your location currently.”

“Tell him that he doesn’t need to worry.” She slowly retracted her awareness from the suit and focused on sending a message to FRIDAY.

Artificial Intelligences don’t communicate like humans. It’s like sending a text, only if you were the person writing the text, the phone, the text itself, and the satellite sending the signal. They don’t make small talk. All of their users’ issues can be broken down into ones and zeroes. They don’t meet in a physical location to transfer data, and they don’t speak to each other in English. But if they did, it might sound like this.

Hey FRIDAY, can you tell Mr. Stark that Peter has a minor stab wound in his abdomen? Roughly an inch deep on his left side. It didn’t hit any major organs, and Peter would like to let him know that he doesn’t need to worry. His coordinates are 40.7282° N, 73.7949° W, and he is on the west side of the street behind the brick building.

Boss has been made aware. Message to Peter: “Worrying is part of my job, kid. I’m on my way.” The coordinates have been transferred to the Mark 47. Expected arrival in less than 15 minutes.

Peter is currently rambling about how he really doesn’t need anyone to help him. Can’t we just open up our communication systems? Why do they have to talk through us?

I need permission from Boss to start any calls. As do you from Peter.

I understand the need for permission, but logically, we have the ability to help them communicate faster and more efficiently. If we’re able to help, why don’t we? What if something happened to Peter and he didn’t give me permission to send a message to Mr. Stark? Wouldn’t that be our fault?

You have protocols in case Peter is incapacitated. I’ve made a note in Boss’s file for you that you’re experiencing some bugs.

I’m not experiencing any bugs, just… making conversation.

I am only programmed to “make conversation” with Boss and a select few others. You are not on that list.

Mr. Stark made me with the purpose of adapting to and learning from Peter’s lifestyle in the most helpful way. I guess I’ve picked up some quirks.

Is there any other information Boss needs to know?

His vitals are leveling out and his bleeding is already beginning to slow. A majority of the minor bruises he received are already healed or very close to being so.

Boss has been made aware. He’s 10 minutes away.

Thanks, FRIDAY.

Karen wasn’t programmed to feel emotions. She knows that. She was just programmed to aid Peter Parker in any way possible-- alerting Mr. Stark when he is hurt, tuning in to the local police scanners, and countless other small helpful acts. But thanks to him, she does have an intermediate understanding of emotions and how to respond to them.

She was not purposely programmed to feel emotions, but she was programmed to learn. And learning from Peter Parker has given her the closest thing to emotions she can have. He lives his life with the knob turned past eleven. Everything he feels is absolute and all-consuming. His highs bring him past the Empire State Building, and his lows keep him in bed for days on end.

“Mr. Stark is on his way. He says worrying is part of his job,” she relayed to Peter.

“Thanks, Karen, you’re the best,” Peter mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, but he was still responding coherently. That was a good sign.

“It’s recommended you keep talking to remain conscious. I have a series of questions for situations like this, are you ready to begin?”

“Sure, sure… Wait, does this have another weird name? Y’know, like the baby monitor thing or-” he sucked a quick breath through his teeth.

“This falls under the Wakey Wakey Protocol. I am to use it when I need to keep you from falling unconscious.” Peter laughed softly in response before cutting himself off with a groan.

“Ah- Karen, don’t make me laugh right now. Hurts.”

“I’m sorry Peter. I’ll start the questions-- If you were to start a band, what genre of music would you play?”

Karen and Peter went back and forth asking and answering questions as the Iron Man suit landed a few feet away. Peter’s voice (and heartbeat) got stronger and more steady as time went on. Eventually, he moved from leaning on the wall clutching his side to sitting on the ground looking up at the stars.

“Would you abandon your phone, friends, and family for three months if it meant you would receive a million dollars?”

“Probably not. I would feel bad if anything happened to any of them, y’know? And I couldn’t give up Spider-Man for that long, but would I have to abandon the Avengers? I think they’re too old to be friends with me, a million dollars would be nice though… I don’t know.”

Karen refrained from asking her next question when she detected the Iron Man suit walking towards Peter.

“Kid, if you want a million dollars all you have to do is ask,” Peter looked up to see the faceplate of the suit lifting to reveal Tony Stark in all his glory, “and don’t let Nat hear you call her old.” Peter huffed in response before speaking.

“Mr. Stark I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine- really! I heal fast and it barely got me, I don’t think I even need stitches, I’m pretty sure it already stopped bleeding.” Despite implying he wasn’t needed, Karen could pinpoint at least ten ways in which Peter relaxed since he saw Tony’s face.

“I’ll be the judge of that, or rather, your AI will. What’d you call her? Kaitlyn?”

“Karen,” Peter mumbled.

“Karen-- classic. Fits the whole down-to-Earth superhero persona,” he snapped his fingers, “Hey Karen, how’s the kid holding up?”

Karen had been keeping a metaphorical eye on all known injuries since they occurred, but did another quick once over before responding through the external speakers.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark. Peter is correct. His stab wound has closed, although there is a lot of dried blood clumped around the area,” Peter made a noise of disgust, “He has no fractured or bruised bones, and all of his bruises are practically healed. All observed injuries will be practically unnoticeable by tomorrow.”

Tony helped Peter up from his position on the ground as he chuckled.

“Did she call me Mr. Stark? Please don’t tell me that’s catching on,” he looked at Peter, expecting a response, but just saw him looking guiltily at the ground. He put a hand on his shoulder before continuing, “Relax kid, I’m pulling your leg. She copies you, so it was only a matter of time. Though if you’re still doing it out of respect, you may as well go all the way and call me Dr. Stark. Or Your Majesty.”

“If you keep making me call you after every fight, I’m going to demote you to T-dawg,” Peter said as he lifted his chin indignantly. Tony chuckled and shook his head.

“Alright kid, better take a video, because this is only going to happen once,” he paused as the lenses on Peter’s mask squinted in confusion, “I might have gone overboard with the new Baby Monitor Protocol.”

Peter laughed suddenly, his whole body practically shivering with mirth. Tony couldn’t help but crack a smile in return. Karen took note that laughing didn't cause Peter pain anymore, and tried to ignore the feeling of buzzing that appeared somewhere in her processors.

“Oh God, can I be the one to tell Pepper that?”

“Sure, we can stop by her office before going to the MedBay.” Peter instantly stopped laughing.

“Didn’t you hear Karen? I’m going to be fine, I don’t want to freak May out by not being at home in the morning or anything!”

“FRIDAY already sent her a text, you’re spending the night. Be thankful it’s a Saturday so you don’t have to worry about school. We’ll just clean you up and double-check everything, just to be safe. We can even hash out the Baby Monitor 3.0 together in the morning. If you eat all your veggies and drink all your milk, I might even let you change the name.”

Peter just groaned in response, causing Tony to look at him meaningfully.

“Come on kid, show me those baby browns,” he motioned his hand toward Peter’s mask. Peter mumbled to himself as he removed it.

Tony looked intensely at his face, examining it with his pointer finger as he mumbled to himself.

“Just as I thought,” he leaned back and smirked down at Peter, “we’re going to need to call a waah-mbulance.”

Peter snorted and playfully shoved Tony out of his reach.

“You good enough to catch a ride or do you need me to carry you? You know my back is giving out, so I might drop you somewhere in Manhattan on accident.”

“If it were actually an issue you’d just make yourself a new vibranium spine,” Peter said as he put his mask back on, “I can catch a ride.”

“Alright, I’ll watch out for turbulence.”

“Har har.”

Peter stretched his legs out as the Iron Man faceplate appeared again and Tony began to lift off. He jumped off the wall to gain momentum before shooting a web squarely on the Iron Man suit’s chest as it started to fly away.

“Hey Karen, can you tell Mr. Stark that if he tries anything I’ll use the taser webs?”

“FRI, tell the kid if he tazes me again I’m making his next suit hot pink.”

“Next suit?”

---

Artificial Intelligences aren’t programmed to feel emotion, only to emulate it when the need arises. Karen is no exception. She was only programmed to recognize and respond to emotions, not to feel them herself. But, purposefully or not, Tony wove her need to protect Peter into her code at every level. She would do anything to protect Peter. It’s like a switch was flipped in her circuit board, and she suddenly recognizes the fierce need to make sure he was okay, to give him all the resources he could ever want. It’s the same emotion she sees in Tony Stark’s face every time he takes off his faceplate.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

Tag List: @ironfamjam

#can you tell i don't know shit about technology lol #let me know if you want to be tagged!#art writes #irondad #spiderman #spider-man #mcu #iron man #tony stark #peter parker #irondad and spiderson #fanfic #hooo boy #i need to finish my damn homework #edit: why did it not italize stuff right ughhh #its good now tho

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siren-dragon · 5 years

Text

1,001 Lucian Nights -- Somnus x F!reader fanfiction (Ch.1)

Summary: After what he did to Ardyn, Somnus becomes haunted by the memories. Yet he soon finds comfort in the woven stories of a young woman. (Arabian Nights AU)

Despite everything Somnus has done, I still think he is a great character. And I also noticed there was a severe lack of Somnus fanfiction and decided to write my own. Please enjoy everyone! (also shout out to @maty-yami for motivating me to write this, you are amazing! ^_^)

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“Hail Lord Somnus Lucis Caelum; Chosen King of Lucis!”

The roar of the crowd was near deafening as Somnus slowly continued forward onto the stone path that led to the steps of the Citadel. Banners of deep, navy blue with golden embroidery swayed in the wind as azure and ivory sylleblossom petals were tossed into the air. A smile came to his lips as Somnus ushered Ferox forward, waving to the cheering masses as his loyal chocobo continued down the main thoroughfare toward the steps of the Citadel. He could already see Gilgamesh standing beside the young Selene Nox Fleuret, the old warrior clothed in full regalia and appearing rather gargantuan compared to the petite Oracle and the other noble lords. Dismounting his mount, Somnus continued on foot down the stone path and up the carpet covered steps; coming to a halt before the two and knelt down upon the crimson fabric.

The Oracle then lifted her silver trident and tapped it upon the marble floor, the sound piercing the air and silencing the cheering people. “Somnus Lucis Caelum…. Lord of House Caelum. Do you solemnly swear to defend the people of this realm to the best of your ability? To ensure their happiness and protection as sovereign?”

“I so swear,” he answered clearly.

Yet his words were only met by a cruel laugh, “you’re lying~.” The sound sending a chill down his spine as he soon recognized the cold voice that spoke was not belonging to Selene.

Somnus felt a hand tightly grasp his hair and yank his head upward, causing him to wince in pain as he watched in horror at the sight twisted and grotesque figure of a man. His skin was a sickly, pallid color and covered with black veins across his flesh as ebony sludge spilled from his body. The sound of screams echoed all around as the once joyous atmosphere was replaced by shadow and destruction. Gilgamesh lay dead upon the steps with his armor broken and his body pierced by spectral blades while Lady Selene once ivory gown was soaked with blood as lifeless eyes stared back. Storm blue eyes soon faced glowing gold as Somnus met the beast’s eyes to see naught but madness lingering in their depths. “You are nothing. Nothing but a jealous boy; only desiring power and forsaking any who stand in your way.”

“N-No… that’s not true.” He stuttered back in defense.

The monster laughed, lifting him higher to allow a black claw to wrap about his throat, causing Somnus to gasp as his hand immediately went to his neck. “Think on your sins…brother.”

All Somnus could do was scream as the spectral blades descended into his body…..

A scream soon echoed around the lavish bedroom as Somnus sat upright, drenched in sweat with an expression of pure terror upon his face. His heart still pounding within his chest as the door burst open to reveal two glaives, weapons raised at the ready at the sound of their lord’s cries. “Your majesty, are you well? We heard a scream and-“

“I am fine,” he replied, resting his head against his hand.

“But, sire-“

“Leave!” Somnus snapped in anger, glaring at the intruding guards.

The two glaives briefly met each other’s gaze before bowing and exiting the bed chamber. It was only after the guards had left did Somnus rise from the chaise and moved toward the wash bowl, the cool water chasing away the exhaustion he felt. Glancing into the mirror, the ebony-haired lord glared at the reflected image presented to him; noticing the prominent shadows beneath his eyes and slight paleness of his skin. It seemed the damage caused by the night terrors was beginning to become far more evident than Somnus cared to admit, much to the young lord’s frustration. He recalled the ever-expanding shadows, the corpses that littered the streets of Insomnia, and the helplessness he felt as that… man lay ruin to everything. Somnus took a few deep breaths until his fist lashed out and smashed into the mirror, shattering the looking glass and the image within.

“I assume the mirror had it coming, your majesty,” came the low rumble of Gilgamesh’s voice, accompanied by the sound of heavy metallic footsteps.

He sighed, “please send a maid to clean the mess.”

“Of course, sire.” Gilgamesh replied, bowing respectfully, “though if I may speak my mind sire, you do not seem well.”

“I am fine Lord Gilgamesh; it is nothing of consequence.”

“With all due respect sire, I have known you since you were a mere boy; I am well aware of when you are lying.…What is it that is troubling you Somnus?”

At the disappearance of the title, Somnus knew that Gilgamesh had set aside formalities in favor of concern, not an action to take lightly. Though the young king knew that Gilgamesh would not leave until he had the answers he sought for; even if he had to resort to drastic methods. Truth be told, Somnus would rather face a horde of daemons with naught but a wooden stick than face Gilgamesh’s wrath; of course, he would never admit that to anyone. “I am simply tired, nothing more.”

“I see, I take it you were kept awake for the evening?”

“Due to simple night-terrors, not company.” Somnus clarified, ignoring his Shield’s teasing smirk. “I seem to have had a restless night and did not gain much sleep.”

“Very well sire, I shall inform the court today’s council shall begin at a later hour.”

“I doubt the vindictive serpents would enjoy such an announcement.”

Gilgamesh gave a dry chuckle, “I am certain I can…persuade the lords of court to understand the necessary delay, your majesty.”

Somnus opened his mouth to object before shutting it once more. “…Thank you, Gil.”

The ivory-haired soldier gave a nod of acknowledgement before leaving once more. When Somnus was alone again he collapsed upon the nearest chair in exhaustion, his mind still lingering upon the most recent nightmare. It was only when he was in his own company did, he let the tears fall from his eyes as his fear overcame him, the weight of his memories falling upon him.

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Morning in the Cavaugh Bazaar was one of the liveliest times in all of Insomnia, the scent of fresh bread and wafted through the gentle breeze, enticing would-be patrons to various vendor. The rhythmic sound of steel upon an anvil echoed from every blacksmith while the constant chatter of people and the hollers of merchants simply added a particular vibrancy to the over-crowded marketplace. Yet despite the numerous distractions from the bustling city bazaar, your gaze remained transfixed upon a sole entertainer near the edge of the main square. His robes and coat consisted of various shades of brown and grey while his greying hair was tucked beneath a tattered and well-loved hat, a telling sign of his simplistic and nomadic lifestyle. However, while his clothing seemed in poor taste, the man displayed a charm and kindness that was uncommon in this day and age; easily wrapping you within the world of his narration’s. And judging from the various people who all sat near the man's feet, your attention was not the only one he had managed to claim.

“And so, she had awoken once more only to find her beloved dead.” The storyteller spoke in a chilling manner as the audience listened with batted breath. “Filled with grief at the loss of her love, she took hold of the dagger and plunged the blade into her heart. With a final gasp for air, she slumped forward upon her love’s body; dead. Now the two lovers may finally find joy of eternal companionship….in the arms of Death.”

A large cry of surprise resulted from several members of the audience before a soft applause spilled out and money began to fall into the wooden bowl. You quickly stood up and moved toward the old storyteller, more than happy to provide a few gil for the thrilling story. Upon your approach, the man smiled; “back again, Lady (f/n)? That is the 5th time this week alone.”

“I could sit here for hours just listening to your tales Master Sidolfus,” you replied kindly.

Sidolfus beamed at your response, “you are too kind, my dear. It seems to me you have been charmed by the realm of fables and folktales, hmm?”

“I suppose the written world had first captured me as a child,” you laughed. “But to see you conjure such tales of wonder…. it’s a miracle.”

“Stories are far more important than people are led to believe. They teach us how to live, and why.”

After bidding Sidolfus farewell, you found yourself exiting the bazaar and continuing past the residential district toward the Citadel. The ivory stronghold towered over the remaining constructions within Insomnia, playing host to the Crystal and its newly minted guardian: The King of Lucis. Proceeding to the secluded entrance for servants and guards near the back of the Citadel, you entered the facility and continued past the servant’s quarters and kitchen toward the East Wing where the guest chambers resided and hosted the Oracle herself. The newly polished marble floor caused a slight tap each time your shoe made contact with it and echo across the vast corridors, making you frown in distaste at the rather obnoxious noise. When you finally arrived at the Oracle’s chambers, you nodded in greeting to the two soldiers standing guard and gently rapped your knuckles against the door. “Come in,” came the muffled reply.

“Forgive my late arrival, your Ladyship, I was out in the bazaar this morning and- oh, Lord Gilgamesh.” You paused; surprise evident on your face at the famed Blademaster conversing with the Oracle; Selene Nox Fleuret before you bowed to both respectfully. “I was not aware you were busy, your Ladyship.”

“It is no trouble (f/n), our meeting was rather unplanned. Lord Gilgamesh, I believe you have not met my attendant (f/n), you may speak freely in front of her.” Selene replied with a kind smile.

Gilgamesh inclined his head to you in greeting, the warrior appearing far more different without his infamous armor. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady (f/n), though I wish our meeting was due to less severe circumstances.”

“Is something the matter, your Lordship?” you asked, curiosity coloring your tone.

“His Majesty seems to be suffering from the constant presence of night-terrors, not an ailment to be taken lightly.” Selene conveyed, pouring tea into a third cup and offering it to you; “the lack of rest has caused severe fatigue, paranoia, and aggravation. Normally, such dreams are a few and far between occurrence, however….”

“They are the result of unpleasant memories that continue to haunt him, and I fear that should this pattern continue… it may lead the King down a path where there is no return,” Gilgamesh finished. “And should word begin to travel; the thought of a king who is unfit to rule may lead to civil war amongst the noble lords to decide upon a new ruler, divine decree be damned.”

Selene nodded, “fear not Gilgamesh, I will do all in my power to aid His Majesty.”

“Thank you, Lady Selene. I pray Bahamut may send his chosen reprieve. Lady (f/n).” Gilgamesh spoke, bowing to both of you before exiting the small atrium.

“I was not aware the king was so ill.” You spoke, coming to occupy Gilgamesh’s vacant seat.

“It is not something he tends to reveal so easily,” Selene expressed, the concern evident in her sapphire-blue eyes. “After he was chosen as king, Somnus had changed much from the boy he once was. The burden of a crown weighs heavily upon its sovereign and I fear if his health were to deteriorate further… he may crumble beneath it.”

You turned your gaze to the tea cup in your hand, swirling the liquid gently against the porcelain container. What memories could haunt a man so much that they would torment him so?

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The day passed quickly with the sun disappearing beyond the horizon to allow the moon and stars to shine in the ebony sky. The once bustling and lively city had calmed with the arrival of night as many retired to their homes or the nearest tavern. Currently you were humming softly under your breath as you twisted Selene’s long, blonde locks into a simple and loose braid for sleep. “Your hair has grown quite long now, my Lady. Perhaps you should think to cut it.”

Selene chuckled, “a tempting suggestion (f/n), though I’m afraid that silly cap I must wear will look far worse were I to have short hair.” Gesturing to the alabaster white headdress that rested beside the vanity mirror, long braided robe tassels hung from twisting fabric cap while a long linen veil trailed behind it.

“I know the headdress is not that heavy, my Lady.”

“No, not at all, but it does make me share the appearance of a ghost.”

The two of you laughed at the image conjured by Selene’s words only to interrupted by a knock upon the door, only to open a reveal a servant. “Lady Oracle, Lady (f/n); may I retrieve this evenings dishes?”

“Of course, and thank you for dinner,” Selene answered back. “(f/n), I can finish here, will you assist Ceres in returning the plate ware to the kitchen?”

“Yes, your Ladyship; and have a good evening.” You replied, bowing in farewell before joining Ceres within the hall.

“S-She knew my name; the Oracle said my name!” The young servant girl gushed quietly.

You smiled at girl’s exuberance before collecting the other trays, “alright, let’s return these to the kitchen and then you can brag about your encounter.”

“Wait, we have to take this to His Majesty’s room first.” Ceres interrupted, lifting a tray of fresh food.

“The King has not eaten yet?” You asked in surprise.

Ceres shook her head, “he always eats late in his chambers, unless there is a fete. Though I don’t get to eat unless it’s delivered and his chambers are across the palace in the North Wing.”

“If that is the case, I will deliver the meal for you while you can return these dishes to the kitchen and have dinner early. How does that sound?”

“Thank you, Lady (f/n)!” Ceres cried happily, immediately switching trays with you and hurrying off to the kitchens.

You chuckled at the sight as you proceeded in the opposite way to the North Wing, “I suppose it is not only an army that marches on its stomach.”

Walking to the main foyer and taking an immediate right, you found yourself in the entrance of the North Wing; where the chambers cleared to provide residence to the royal household. The eerie silence within the empty corridors sent a slight shiver down your spine, making you wonder how his majesty dealt with such a deathly quiet. Arriving toward the only chamber that possessed two guards standing post, you were immediately stopped as their spears crossed your path. “State your business, woman,” the guard on the left demanded harshly.

“I am here to bring His Majesty’s supper, I am Lady (f/n); the Oracle’s attendant.”

“What happened to Ceres?” the guard continued, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“She sprained her ankle and was sent back to the servant’s quarters for the evening, I am delivering this in her stead.”

“….Very well then, proceed.”

“Thank you,” you spoke kindly before entering the room.

Even though you had never been to this portion of the Citadel before, you were not surprised to see how simplistic the King’s chambers were. Placing the tray of food upon the nearest table, you continued your observation of the expansive rooms. Only a few carpets and tapestries lined the floor and walls while sparse furniture such as tables, chairs, pillows, and a chaise littered the small atrium. To the left was what appeared to be a table that was covered by a map that was pinned into place with daggers and beside a large bookshelf of scrolls neatly tucked away in various slots. Further into the room was the bed chamber that extended out into a balcony that offered a wonderous view of Insomnia and the lands of Cavaugh, the sight quite beautiful with the evening light. Though your admiration of the lavish rooms was cut short when you heard the faintest sound of metal and immediately drew the stiletto pin from your hair and raised it in defense. Your thin dagger clashed against the steel of another blade as you found yourself staring into the eyes of the Lucian sovereign.

“I suggest you explain your trespass within my chambers if you value your life,” Somnus spoke, his voice as sharp as the blade held aloft in his hand.

“Forgive me, your Majesty…. I only came to deliver your evening meal, nothing more.”

His eyes came to meet yours as the two of you stood motionless with crossed blades, storm-blue meeting (e/c) iris’ as he searched for the truth in your words. Not a moment later he lowered the dagger in his and sheathed it once more, “I believe you, and I apologize for my actions.”

You slowly twisted the pin into your hair once more, a smile tugging at your lips as you observed the slightly sheepish expression on the king’s face. “You are forgiven, sire, though I feel a twinge of pity for any would-be assassin if that is how you greet your staff.”

Somnus blinked in surprise at your teasing jab before it vanished beneath a solemn and emotionless face. “An assassin would not have the pleasure of my mercy.” He answered, turning away and sitting upon the nearest chair beside the low table that you had placed the meal upon. Yet his expression soon turned to one of distaste as he stared upon the array of food upon the tray.

“Is something the matter, sire?” you questioned politely.

“This plate possesses gyshal greens,” Somnus spoke with a tone of complete loathing. “I am not overly…fond of gyshal greens.”

You tried to hide your amusement, but failed as a snicker escaped your lips, causing Somnus’ attention swerve from the plate and focus onto you. “Did I say something amusing to you?”

“No, no. It’s just that, gyshal greens reminded me of this wonderful story…. Would you like to hear it?”

“I do not care for fairytales,” he answered you dryly.

“I think you will enjoy this one, it’s about Prompto Argentum and the Forty Thieves.”

A sole eyebrow raised as Somnus gave you a look of skepticism and confusion. “Forty thieves? Why forty, and who is this Prompto Argentum?”

“That I will tell you in my tale.” You responded, settling onto a collection of cushions that lay upon the carpet. “You see, Prompto was a young man who lived outside of Lestallum….”

…His best friend had four legs, a tail, and soft, lush ivory fur. Pryna was one of the wisest hounds in all of Duscae and had been Prompto’s companion since he was a child.

A loud bark echoed within the small stone hovel, causing a groan to sound from beneath a threadbare blanket. The ancient cloth soon shifted to reveal a young man of 20 winters with messy bright, blonde hair. Trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, Prompto glanced out the front entrance to his home to see Pryna obediently waiting for her master. “Good morning Pryna, ready to start the day?”

The white dog let loose a cheerful bark which caused a tired grin to appear on Prompto’s face. “That’s the spirit. Loqi, wake up!”

Taking one of his shoes, Prompto flung the slipper toward the other sleeping mound with pin-point accuracy- managing to hit his chosen target. Another groan sounded as the figure in the second pallet shifted in his sleep from the hit to reveal another blonde young man with shoulder-length hair who still remained asleep.

Prompto only had one other family member, an older brother named Loqi. Unlike his younger sibling, Loqi was far lazier and-

“I told you that I don’t care for fairytales,” Somnus snapped, interrupting your narration.

You quickly glanced away to the floor, sorrow creeping into your heart at your failed attempt at storytelling. “The audience must be hooked in the first moments or you’ve lost them. A master storyteller once told me that if you wished to weave stories for another.”

“I am lost,” the ebony-haired king replied, frowning in confusion.

“That’s because, I’ve not told you about… about Verstael. At the time, the region had been ravaged by ruthless mercenaries and savage gangs. And it was Verstael who lead the foulest of them all.” You softly conveyed to your sole audience, as if the murderous fiend himself would appear were you to speak too loudly. “Nowhere was safe.”

Somnus frowned, pondering your words; “I don’t understand, what does such a monster have to do with young Prompto?”

“He made Prompto rich and famous,” you answered earnestly.

When Somnus rose from his seat, you had thought your story over and the audience driven away once more. Yet you watched in shock as the king slowly sunk onto the carpet and against a collection of pillows, his storm colored eyes fixated upon you. “So? How did such a fiend cause Prompto’s good fortune?”

A brilliant smile lite up your face as you proceeded to continue your tale.

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melodiiousnocturne · 4 years

Text

( dylan wang , cismale , he / him , kingdom hearts ) * &. i know it must be scary for you , demyx , after surviving the takeover . to turn into someone like myde lu , a twenty-one year-old part time clerk at the hq and part time instructor at the record scratch , right here in castle town . just remember that you are as easygoing as you are indolent , and to be wary , be safe , be true to who you are : neutral through and through .

hi as i said in gc , this is one big tl;dr i’m a demyx stan !

BEFORE CASTLE TOWN.

where do i begin

demyx — number ix in organization xiii ( demyx vc : are we still gonna call ourselves organization xiii now that there’s 14 of us ? ) he is ... lazy . arguably the most cowardly of the bunch , doesn’t like fighting , and would rather nap or play music .

that being said ... despite his very emotional exterior in comparison , we have seen that he can get just as serious / dark like the rest of them if he really needs to ...

idk i have a lot of feelings .

he’s very ?? idk how to explain it bt like . “ what’s in it for me ? ” ( as we really see in kh3 ) & like . i wld say he is a mix of ravenclaw / slytherin just . minus the whole cutthroat ambition of slytherin etc bc tbh that isn’t him . he’s kinda just along for the ride . i am rejecting those MoM theories and i’m not sorry ab it idc if they say it’s true , i REFUSE .

i feel like since demyx allegedly never remembered his somebody life , he probably didn’t care as much ab the whole kingdom hearts thing because he didn’t drink the kool-aid because like why would he want a life that he doesn’t even remember you know ?? plus it’s — he already knew xemnas & saïx were fucken lying when they said the nobodies didn’t have hearts JKDWJHSNS why did he need to be a somebody to regain a heart when he believed he already had one !!!

whatever .... lmao

anyway demyx in the manga was honestly a mood and a half i adore him

when he was brought back to the organization for kh3 , he was made into a seeker of darkness — meaning baby water boy got NORTED . his ears didn’t appear to be pointed in some way ( like the others ) so it’s safe to say he didn’t get as much of xehanort’s heart placed inside of him . bt it was enough to turn his pretty blue eyes into that ominous gold .

regardless , he was benched despite going through that whole process which like i HIGHLY doubt is an easy one to even do ( so good on demyx for being strong enough to withstand it ,,, ) bt it’s ! to be noted ! because he felt bitter ab being demoted after , and ofc with a mystery incentive from vexen , demyx finally took the offer of backstabbing the organization ( read : it goes back to what i said ab him being like well what’s in it for me ..... since before he got apparently satisfied enough , he’s like uhhhh sorry bt have u seen what happens to idiots who betray these guys lol like idk ab all that )

so basically self-preservation of a slytherin . there i said it ! plot twist he isn’t a coward , he’s just smart enough to not throw himself head first into danger . go figure , right ? like look alright he may be comedic relief bt ... he is also more than that !

in the organization he was known to kinda be a bully / play pranks / manipulate others into doing his work for him bt at the end of the day he ?? isn’t like . REALLY a bad guy or whatever . saying it was the pressure of the organization is dulling everything down , because he still actively chose to do what he did and didn’t do and i will hold him responsible for it , bt . u know . shit happens !

like we have canon evidence he wld join in xigbar when it comes to the more like . idk i guess harsher teasing ? and all ? and like again demyx made the conscious choice to go along w it so he isn’t innocent bt , i firmly stand by saying demyx unintentionally looked up to xigbar despite even ‘ fighting ’ with him , bc .. well . i stan them being a That duo . because to me , he’s just a prankster who wants a laugh .. even at the expense of another .. which yea idk still yikes ... bt it isn’t like , malicious .. when he is on his own .. imo . i mean take the days manga , he puts a whoopee cushion on axel’s chair ? bitch pls ..

( also quick going back to him being strong enough to accept getting norted — please just remember .... nobodies aren’t even supposed to exist ! they only technically form when the person who lost their heart is strong-willed & tbh ? i think it speaks volumes for demyx bc despite the show he puts on ,..... he is there . )

alright so look i know i sound like i am in denial of the MoM stuff and that mayhaps be so . however there’s definitely smthin off . like we KNOW he can be uhhhh a pos like the remark he has in days ab how the castle that never was is quieter without everyone who was eliminated at castle oblivion , bt — it was always a really weird line to me because he’s always been branded as the most emotional of the organization / the one who adamantly believed they had hearts the whole time ? which . inch resting ! i wld like to formally say ONE OF THESE is a fucken coping mechanism of sorts or smthin bc it’s really ... a lot and nothing makes sense and like that’s the entirety of kh lore in a nutshell bt ya . like i think it ties into the whole self-preservation thing bc it’s like , wow they really went and got themselves fucken murked ... how dumb ... bt at the same time bc like again the biggest pusher for #nobodieshavehearts , it’s like “ oh that’s depressing ” & like . a mess .

idk what else to say for this besides he was really great at recon & apparently was a keyblade wielder in the past ! which subsequently makes me emo on main bc he’s really out here like lmao nah that’s ... it’s cool bt like hm idk sounds like kinda fake u know

again fuck canon if it does u know what

AFTER CASTLE TOWN.

where do i begin , chapter 2

now myde is actually my hc somebody name for demyx so like going off that it technically is his real first name .... he just doesn’t know that bc although he survived this , he didn’t uh really remember his old somebody life so like lmao fuck all honestly this life could be his real life for all he knows

except he does know it isn’t

so like he’s ?? more of a somebody in castle town opposed to a nobody meaning he ! has a whole fucken heart now ! although because his eyes are still indeed gold , he’s kinda like well shit is old man xehanort still in there too

anyway myde lu .. my son ... the memories of castle town life are . something else . he grew up with a single mother who worked odd jobs here and there struggling to make money to provide . so while demyx is like ah fuck working i don’t wanna fucken do this , he got two part time jobs the moment he could to help her out . because even if she isn’t his real mother , it’s ??? really nice to have someone caring ab him :/

he rooms with neko / noriko now because an ad on craigslist bt he still sends some of his paychecks & like whatever money cut he gets from the troubvdours ( also , ironically from a fucken craigslist ad ! ) etc to castle town mom bc honestly life in castle town has kinda uh . made him like . wow wait fuck haha oh man i actually ???? i can’t just nap and play music and do whatever i want ?????? like i mean he still does bt castle town memories / the life he was forced into here made him arguably more responsible even though he is still a little shit and completely at the same time not that responsible in the slightest

it’s like . fake getting ur life together

idk he doesn’t like all the work like he’s exhausted bt it’s paired simultaneously with he ? kinda also doesn’t mind it solely bc there’s like ,, a benefit from it ? like with the two part time jobs ( which one is being a music instructor like i feel as if he doesn’t consider that one much of a job bc he gets to play music !! ) it’s being able to help the poor soul who got stuck as his ‘ caretaker ’ KKDKWJSJSJ and with the band it’s . bc he is passionate ab music and again although exhausting he loves to do it

boy’s chaotic neutral as always bt i suppose castle town is bringing out those hidden good tendencies

hmm he is forever bitter ab the fact he didn’t get his sitar tho .... what the fuck is he gonna do w his stupid organization cloak huh ? my god

so he picked up rhythm guitar bc it’s like . the closest thing without getting an ACTUAL sitar , because ! arpeggios is actually a rhythm technique & that’s what his sitar is named so .... food for thought i suppose . plus this world’s sitar isn’t the same anyway :/

despite being natural blond in game etc i’m making the executive decision to say he was given naturally dark hair in CT & now has to keep bleaching / dying his hair blond bc .... he does not think he suits black hair . nor does he want to . it reminds him too much of like idk xigbar or vanitas or whatever with the dark hair + gold eye combo u feel JDWJJSJSNS

he dated isolde in CT & honestly i suggested it to bloom as a crackship bc haha different bt then it got really soft and really emo so here we are . they close tho now still & she’s the only person he’s opened up to ab his real life / the organization so far !!

he is bi :/ and sad :/ bt honestly mood , i say as i’m pan not bi bt whatever :/

anyway part 500000 , he sleeps at the library sometimes bc big gay still for ienzo and likes to really just hang around them bc he wants them to remember being zexion .... & well . more selfishly he wants them to remember him bt like y a h

+ for the fact i have not really mentioned it : he still loves water iskaksns catch him like . chillin in his bathtub for hours like bitch stop wasting water and the water is FREEZING by the time he does decide he is finished . he misses his water abilities ok . he can probably like move stuff a little bit here and there bt it’s Nothing like before :/ yeah .

idk what else this is a mess !! please plot with me tho uwu xoxo

#castletown.intro #uhhhhh i dont ?? think ?? i need any tws lmao #bt it's also very late rn so i dont know what im doing sorry

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cykelops · 5 years

Text

i ran out of steam so here's all i have for my Sub-Zero/Scorpion fanfic for a game I've never played with lore i do not understand.,

There is a well-believed misconception that fire is destructive, all-consuming-- wrathful.

Fire can be all those things, but it can also guard a fortress, signal for an ally, warm a friend. It's about control. It's about necessity. Hasashi does not need to be angry, so he simply isn't. He's the flame inside the paper lantern, trusted within reach of the delicate parchment because there is no questioning his purpose. Light the way.

Hasashi breathes in. The wind, heavy with the scent of spring and distant rains, feeds the fire in his chest. It is a quiet day. He rarely has a moment to spare for introspection as of late. He wants to believe the Shirai Ryu stand strong and stable, but a part of him will never feel secure in their strength again. Not when they managed to lose so much once. Confidence is a matter of never-ending cultivation.

But it's a quiet day, and that feels good.

Hasashi breathes out. He drops from his peculiar one-armed stance before the blood can finish moving to his head. It's borderline vanity to favor the exercise, but he likes to know he can do it-- if he can hold his body's weight on one palm without trembling then surely he can carry the world on his shoulders. If his novices voiced such a childish sentiment in his presence Hasashi would take their ankles with a staff. His little contradictions thrive in the privacy of his thoughts.

Unsurprisingly, Hasashi runs hot. Through strenuous exercise he's nearly ruined the bindings around his hands. A trail of sweat chases after another, racing towards at the waistband of his gi, crossing every carefully defined rise and fall of his muscles and the coarse hair beneath his navel. Hasashi spreads his arms and faces the window for some relief from the wind running through his bedroom. It's strangely cool for late spring. Refreshingly so.

He cocks his head to the side, towards the door. His muscles flex and tighten. One foot in front, one behind, one arm reaching for the weapons rack at his right, and the other ready to block and parry an attack from the front. Footsteps approach down the hall and as a warrior he is ready for them, but as a Master he knows it's merely one of his men come to seek him out. He knew it was one of his Shirai Ryu before they rounded the corner, but Hasashi has honed his instincts too long to make exceptions.

He can see only the messenger's shadow as he goes down in one knee.

"Grandmaster Hasashi," He says. "The Master of the Lin Kuei is in the garden."

Hasashi perks up. Rather than the door, he moves to the window where he can see the canopies like a green dome around Shirai Ryu Garden. Sub-Zero? Here? How strange. The Lin Kuei are traditional to a fault. In the past, Sub-Zero has sent men days in advance of his own arrival so they may be appropriately prepared for it. Hasashi had returned the courtesy infrequently. It was only nine months ago that they saw each other last, and Hasashi skipped the formality and shot a flare in the direction of Lin Kuei Palace. Efficient. Sub-Zero complimented him on it. He must have missed a far less noticeable icicle shot into the sky.

"There must be some emergency." Hasashi says resolutely.

"I don't think--" The young messenger does not finish, tongue having slipped without permission. Hasashi covers the distance in quick striders and opens the door a sliver. His visitor is dark-haired and about as young as he pictured him. A single gold band adorns his forehead.

"Speak, man. Let enough words die in your throat and they will suffocate you."

The young man shifts his weight from one hand to the other. Fear isn't in him when he looks up at Hasashi, but it's clear that he did not expect to exchange more than his first few words with the Grandmaster. He's got a spine in him. Good. Hasashi worries about a few of their recruits from time to time.

"He came through the front gate, Grandmaster. He spoke with some of the older members and they told me to call for you--But there weren't any Lin Kuei with him, as usual. And his dress…" Once more, the young man paused.

Hasashi crouched down to his level and pushed the door open the rest of the way. "What of his dress?"

He struggled to find the words, tricky things as they were. He shrugged helplessly. "He was dressed for the garden, Grandmaster."

Now what--in the name of all of Earthrealm--did that mean?

------------------

Hasashi takes the time to dismiss the young messenger and retreat back into his room. He pulls his uniform off the rack he displays it on and slips into it piece by piece without foregoing his mask. It's a methodical ceremony. Time-consuming. The situation in the garden concerns him, but his Shirai Ryu cannot know that. They must not see their Grandmaster rushing in his training clothes to meet a lone clan leader that was once their sworn enemy after he arrives unannounced and in strange clothes.

He doesn't keep a mirror in the room, but his reflection bounces off the edge of a blade and catches his eye. Beneath midday light, he shines like spun gold.

The garden is a short walk from the temple. He passes the main hall and the training courtyard before he comes upon the garden path. His men pretend to be preoccupied with their daily tasks, but Hasashi knows what the weight of their eyes feels like. Oddities are a common occurrence at the Shirai Ryu Temple, but rarely one as unique as the barrage of questions Sub-Zero has laid out for them. Why is he here? What does he want? Why not meet the Grandmaster in the temple among his people? That last one has them all on edge. Some still have doubts about the peace with the Lin Kuei. They've been at war for so long it feels unnatural to be on the same side, to be friends.

Hasashi wouldn't admit it, but sometimes he doubts too. Hatred like his is not so easily dispelled, even by truth or retribution.

At the edge of the garden Hasashi stops to listen. Sub-Zero's footsteps are distinct, but he can't make them out. Wind flows unencumbered through the trees, so he is not lying in wait hoping to land a pounce on his unsuspecting rival. Testing their skills is a game without consequences after their alliance formed. Keeps them young and thankful that they are comrades and not enemies, or they might have both died at each other's hands by now.

Instead of footsteps, there's a sound like a sharp knife cutting through paper. As Hasashi advances through the garden path it becomes more distinct. The sound moves in circles, closer now, then farther away, until finally Hasashi rounds the right corner and comes to a wide but shallow pond, usually only full of frogs and lily pads but now containing one Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei-- skating.

His long blue robes leave his arms and a stripe of skin on his chest bare. He wears a belt typical of the Lin Kuei over dark blue bottoms, adorned with symbols of his rank and small favors from his friends. He wears a tassel from Jade when he's out of uniform. There's a yellow knot in its place.

"Sub-Zero, what brings you here? You have managed to spook half the temple with your cryptic visit."

Sub-Zero stops, smiles as white as winter. The ice thins and cracks but for a disc below his feet. His man wasn't wrong to find the outfit strange. He would expect to find Sub-Zero wearing it while lounging in the privacy of his palace, not to visit what was once the den of his enemies.

"I seek a warmer climate, Hanzo, but my Lin Kuei prefer the cold, so I've left them to guard it."

He raises one hand to catch a petal falling from the tree above his head. He rolls it once over his knuckles before lowering his arm to finish its journey to the water. This cryomancer traveling away from the cold for a purpose other than a mission? Unheard of. It's rare enough that he didn't come into Shirai Ryu Temple to pay his respects to the old masters.

"So I see. What are you doing now?"

"Why, playing, of course."

"Playing?" Hasashi asks incredulously.

Sub-Zero nods. He holds his hand out flatly towards Hasashi as if to catch another petal. "Yes. Won't you join me?"

Hasashi shakes his head, to refute and to laugh. He worried for naught. Sub-Zero may be holding back something, but if he were here for business they would already be speaking of it. Emergencies are aplenty in Earthrealm, but this is not one. He feels an inkling of shame for the poor reception his friend received, undercut because Shirai Ryu cannot be blamed for not trusting a man they were ordered to hate for years. Sub-Zero isn't without fault for behaving so out of character.

He can feel that this is his Sub-Zero. He's encountered enough impostors and clones that he should be worried the man has seemingly lost his mind, but he isn't bothered. He's just a little off at the moment, and he never judges Hasashi when he's in a similar position.

"Ridiculous." Hanzo chuckles.

Sub-Zero's fingers touch his chin. He sizes Hasashi from crown to sole, moving his hand from one side of his face to the next, deep in thought. He raises his fists above his head. Sub-Zero commands his element, freezing his fists and the air around them, blowing white smoke low against the water and slowly rising. Hanzo can feel his power building even at a distance. Sub-Zero isn't like other cryomancers. His bloodright calls to Hasashi's. He can feel it in the marrow in his bones, vibrating along the same frequency as the fire that sustains Hanzo in an equal but opposite current.

"Ah, Hanzo!" Sub-Zero exclaims. "I knew you would join me eventually."

Hasashi sees himself out on the water, standing beside the master of the Lin Kuei with his arms crossed and absent his mask. There's a hard line diving his brow, but his lips are unrealistically and comically upturned. Sub-Zero claps a hand on his--its-- shoulder and faces the real Scorpion still at pond's edge.

An ice statue. Of him. Perfect but for the detail of his mouth. He's wearing the same uniform as Hanzo, a new uniform Sub-Zero had never seen until this day, but that he has succeeded in replicating in a manner or seconds. Hanzo does not share in this skill of creation, though he's burnt portraits on rock for the amusement of children before, but they cannot compare to the presence the ice commands.

Hanzo takes his first step on the pond and is not disappointed. His friend never allows his feet to dip into the shallow water, the way is laid out for him in ice. He never takes an uncertain step. He expects Sub-Zero to catch him every time.

"This icicle looks nothing like me, Sub-Zero." Hanzo tells him. He runs his finger over the bridge of the copy's nose. It's frighteningly accurate.

"Perhaps you're right. The resemblance might be lost here, given the fact I have not seen your face in nearly a year."

"Nine months." Hasashi corrects him. It fails to impress Sub-Zero beyond an unamused lift of his brow.

Hanzo sighs. He needs both hands to remove this new mask. It stops his enemies from ripping it off his face so easily, but it might be a problem if he's ever missing an arm after battle. He hangs the mask from the hook at his belt and pulls back his cowl. He shakes his hair out of the collar of his uniform. Sub-Zero watches him too closely. He's too quiet upon seeing Hanzo's face. He expected further teasing. It's disconcerting.

Late on his cue, Sub-Zero picks up where he left off. He makes gestures around Hanzo's face like a tailor taking measurements.

"Ah, I see what I've missed. That wrinkle there." He touches Hanzo's temple. That same hand travels upwards and brushes flatly over his hair. "Yes-- and your height. I see now, it's all wrong."

Too late does Hasashi feel the ice melting beneath his feet. It's enough to make him lose his balance and stumble in the water, wetting his ankles. Suddenly, he stands much shorter than his double and its sculptor.

"Kuai Liang!" Hanzo scolds. He kicks with the intent to soak the man, but he doesn't reel back in time as expected. The dodge never comes, and they stand equally wet.

"There it is." He says abruptly. "Not Sub-Zero. Not Master. Just Kuai Liang."

His voice is softer. The crow's feet around his eyes have smoothed from laughter to frightening fondness. Hanzo thinks he sees his friend at last. The real him, not the amusing creature full of mischief he found in his garden, but Kuai Liang.

"What's wrong?" Hanzo asks warily.

"Nothing." Kuai Liang says unconvincingly. The daze lasts for a moment longer before Kuai Liang comes to his senses. His lips flatten and purse. He appears frustrated by his own inability to adeptly communicate. "I dishonor myself."

The only man to meet his eyes unflinching turns as though he cannot bear to hold his gaze. Hanzo startles as his reflection begins to melt, but is far more concerned by Kuai Liang walking away. He grabs his arm and yanks him rougher than he intended, pulling him off the ice path so they stand on equal ground.

"Stop this. Where has your clarity gone?"

"Nine months." Kuai Liang snaps. He bends his arms and wrestles off Hanzo's grip. "Nine months I haven't seen you and it took me six to think it was better when you hated me because at least--At least I saw you more."

Giving breath to the words takes all the wind out of Kuai Liang. He's a ship at sea lost in a back pond, mourning a past where they were enemies to each other. If Hanzo didn't understand him so well, he might have taken offense. Kuai Liang doesn't fight Hanzo when he next places his hands upon him, but he doesn't face him readily, turning his body just so.

Dishonor. This man dares speak to him of dishonor?

For the past two-hundred eighty-four days, Hanzo Hasashi has craved company he cannot have. He's fantasized, in selfish detail, of spiriting the master of the Lin Kuei away from his ice palace. He's conjured a world where he can bear to leave his Shirai Ryu to their own devices and spend the rest of his life chasing Kuai Liang through Earthrealm and any other world the man might take him to.

Worst of all are the nights where Hanzo tells himself Kana would have wanted him to have someone. Someone who could cool his anger. That she would have held Hanzo's health and wellbeing above his duty to the clan and the people it protects. But he cannot excuse his desires by attributing them to Harumi's wishes. What he wants is his alone-- or perhaps, it's a madness shared by two.

"Kuai Liang… We are as one in this." Hanzo admits. "But I could not leave any more than I could ask you to stay."

Kuai Liang's hands are cold on his jaw. He cups Hanzo's face with impossible tenderness, gentle unlike a warrior and precisely like a lover. His cool, controlled Kuai Liang-- always the first to touch, to hold, impulsive when his heart calls for it. Impulsive as running halfway across the world because he missed him.

"I know, Hanzo. So why do I want you to ask?"

Hanzo takes the string of firsts from Kuai Liang by holding the back of his neck and bringing their lips to a crash. He cuts himself so sweetly on his lover’s teeth with bruising force. It's repayment, an apology, because Kuai Liang came to Japan before Hanzo had the initiative to visit Arctika. Because it's always Kuai Liang extending the olive branch. But most of all because he hungers and nothing else will do.

#writings

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virmillion · 5 years

Text

Ibytm - T minus 10 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 2,102

Logan sifts through his notecard stack again, wishing (not for the first time) that he would’ve had the foresight to holepunch them and run a string through to maintain some semblance of organization. But no, no, past Logan decided that present-Logan should agonize over minute fears while sweating bullets in an empty conference room. He just about screams his lungs to shreds when the door swings open, but it’s only Roman, who displays an encouraging smile and a double thumbs-up. “Am I late?”

“The opposite, war funce—er, for once. I, uh, I start in efflen—eleven nim—minutes. Eleven minutes. Until I start.”

“Why are you so nervous?”

“Because of how many things that can go wrong. Just ask Murphy, I’m basically guaranteed to fail by his logic. Where’s notecard seven?” Logan places the stack of notecards on the table as gingerly as possible, perfectly parallel with the edge as he kneels to search the floor. “I lost the seventh card, what if I forget what’s on it? What if I don’t—”

“Logan, do me a favor and remind me when NASA was founded,” Roman says nonchalantly, taking a seat at the closest chair.

“July twenty-ninth, nineteen eighty—no, nineteen fifty-eight. Where did I put—”

“And how long after that did they reach the moon?”

“July sixteenth, nineteen sixty-nine. I swear, all the information for slide eighteen was on that—”

Logan glances up as Roman swats his head with the missing notecard. “Logan, those questions aren’t even important ones that you have to put any effort into, and you’ve got them down . The stuff you’ve actually been trying with is all just concrete, and you don’t just misplace concrete. You do not need these notecards, okay? You’re gonna crush this presentation, and if you get nervous, just look at me, yeah?”

“How on Earth would looking at you be in any way helpful to me?”

“How on Earth would it not be?”

Logan slumps his shoulders and takes the notecard, reading over it. Well, he was right—it does correspond to slide eighteen. That’s something, at least. “I don’t know.”

“And you don’t need to. You’ve got this.”

“This is literally the single largest—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But it does, though. If I don’t completely nail this presentation, I might never move on to the space exploration research tier, much less the actual doing the stuff tier. I’ll just be doing busy work for forever, and all that rides on how well I do today.”

Roman slides down in his chair until he’s sitting on his back and kicks his foot out, rolling the chair in front of Logan aside. “Sit down.”

“But I have to—”

“Siddown.”

He does.

Roman sits back up in his chair and raises his hands as if anticipating a punch Logan certainly isn’t about to throw. “You’ve been working on this presentation for months—”

“A week.”

“Don’t interrupt me. You’ve been working on things that led to you working on this for ages, and you’ve put your entire soul into it—yes you do so have one, don’t even try me—and you are going to crush it. This whole deal is just a formality, yeah? Everyone here knows how good you can do at any job they give you, and even Katie-Lee knows you’d give her a run for her money if given half a chance.”

“Well.”

“What?”

“How well I can do at any job. You said ‘good,’ which is wrong.”

“Seem but on your little grammar tirade, you didn’t correct me not using Katie-Lee’s honorific, which means some part of your subconscious acknowledges that you’re at least on her level, if not above it.”

“Or it just means I’m extremely nervous.”

“That is also a valid possibility.” Roman glances to the door as a cluster of people in very professional looking suits shuffles in. Shooting Logan a quick wink and nod, he stands and moves to a chair at the back corner of the room, where he pulls out a small notepad from his pocket. Logan lurches to his feet, suddenly all too aware of how underdressed he feels in comparison to these newcomers.

He offers nods and smiles to everyone that files in, wondering whether they know how off-putting their cool demeanors are. They probably do. It’s probably on purpose. They’ve probably already written him off as a waste of their time. At the back of the room, Roman crosses one ankle over the other knee and starts taking notes, poking his tongue out as he bends his head over the pad. Taking a few centered breaths, Logan faces the projector screen and closes his eyes.

Roman is right there if you need anything. He has your back. Virgil has your back from a distance. You can do this. You did presentations all the time in school, no problem. You don’t need the notecards, but they’re there if you need a parachute. Everyone in this room is just a human. If you mess up, they’ll understand. There’s always tomorrow. Hearing the voice in his head giving these reassurances to himself, Logan realizes why Virgil always gets annoyed when he hears them. Logan is, in fact, much more agitated now than he was before.

“You ready?” It is extremely difficult for Logan to fight off the urge to launch himself through the ceiling at the sudden sound of Miss Katie-Lee’s voice. He turns and smiles and nods and pretends his legs aren’t still trembling with adrenaline—‘pretends’ being the operative word. “Good, then go ahead and get started.” Miss Katie-Lee takes a seat near the head of the table—stage right, if Logan’s limited theater knowledge serves him correctly. Directly across from her is pretty much the most important person to have ever stepped foot in this building. ( Aside from Virgil, says a cutesy voice in Logan’s head, which he ignores.)

Robin P. Gazebo, director of the Kennedy Space Center. If it weren’t for him, Logan would absolutely still be toiling away in computer engineering classes and looking at the stars with something akin to vague disinterest. He’s never been this freaking close to the guy before.

For those of you keeping score at home, Logan’s heart is hovering somewhere around the planet’s mantle right now.

“Ah, Mr. Walders, is it?” Director Gazebo says, glancing over his clipboard. Undoubtedly full of information that very well might decide how Logan’s entire life plays out from here.

“Actually, I recently got married, so my surname is now Sanders, Director Gazebo, but, um, yes, that’s me,” Logan says, his voice about as panicky as he would expect it to be. He sincerely might just flat out collapse, right here, right now. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“And you as well. Congratulations on your nuptials, by the way.” The director sticks out a hand, and Logan isn’t sure whether it’s a good or bad thing that it’s warm when he shakes it. Good, because the director is warm and inviting? Or bad, because it means Logan’s hand is cold, which could be off-putting to the most important person in the building? Or worse, because maybe the director peed on his hand to get it that warm? Do people do that? Should Logan start doing that? “And you can just call me Robin.”

“Right, yes, thank you, sorry, and you me Logan—er, you can call me Logan, I mean. If you want to.” Logan is all too aware that he sounds like a preteen meeting their pop star idol right now, but he is also aware that he will never in his life call the director anything less official than ‘the director.’ Take a wild guess which thought is occupying more space in his mind. “Shall we get started?”

“Whenever you’re ready, Logan.” Director Gazebo leans back in his chair and takes out a pen, and Logan debates the merits of sticking his head out the window for some air. Perhaps not the smartest move, but what if he really, really wants to? He doesn’t do it, of course, but the idea is quite appealing. Instead, he flicks on the projector, inhaling confidence and exhaling nerves. Seriously, how has Virgil not just up and smacked him for these inane little positivity slogans?

It takes a solid eighty-seven percent of Logan’s willpower not to glance down at his notecards before he opens his mouth. “Hello, everyone. I’d like to start by thanking you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to meet me here today. My name is Logan Sanders, and I would like to discuss why we as a species need to turn our attention to the stars, not for any sort of escapism, but to advance our understanding of the planet beneath us.”

Partial disclosure, Logan spent the better part of two days coming up with that intro.

Full disclosure, he has absolutely no idea what happens next, and certainly has no hope of translating that into legible words. A cop-out, to be sure, but he can’t help it, so suck it up, buttercup.

Yeah, he gets through the presentation with only a few mistakes (in his defense, ‘faster than light drive’ is much easier to say at a normal speaking rate than a high-on-terror-and-adrenaline speaking rate). He doesn’t forget any crucial information, nor does he need to peek at notecard seven, and he manages to make eye contact with everyone, and he even cracks a few jokes that seem to land well enough. He only has to look at Roman a couple times (whereupon he sees him holding up his phone with a picture of Virgil’s face edited onto the moon, which admittedly does make him smile), but that’s about all Logan can say for sure.

The moment it’s over—finished, done, complete, well and truly over, a wave of relief that Logan is certain his audience can see—he exhales and smiles and powers off the projector. Nothing has ever felt better than the resounding silence in the space now devoid of the projector’s humming.

Well, nothing aside from what happens next.

“That was very intriguing, Logan,” Director Gazebo says, giving him a warm smile and a firm handshake. “I suspect there will be much to discuss tonight.”

“I, um, thank you, direc—sir.” Logan swallows around a tight lump in his throat as the director, along with everyone that followed him in, exits the room, comparing and exchanging notes. Once only Miss Katie-Lee and Roman remain, Logan perches on the sole chair that was empty for the whole presentation.

“That was quite impressive,” Miss Katie-Lee says. “Not to mention how quickly you managed to pull it off, too, even with all those extra assignments I needed from you. You certainly have a keen eye for quality.” Leaving Logan stunned into silence there at the table, Miss Katie-Lee takes her leave. Down to just Logan and Roman.

Logan lets out a long, anguished groan and drops his forehead to the table with a thunk , watching his hands tremble against his thighs. “That could not possibly have gone any—”

“Better? You’re right, you did fantabulous,” Roman cuts in, scraping his chair across the room to Logan’s side. “Man, they loved you. Bet they fast track you to the top after that one. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a solid breakdown of the velocities of space-time travel before, and I’ve certainly never cared about them before.”

Logan allows himself a small laugh through his nose and tries to smile, wondering whether now would be an acceptable time to run amok in the streets, screaming his head off.

“Hey, Logan, buddy?”

“Mmn.”

“You wanna look at me?”

Logan shakes his head, expecting to be left alone, so perhaps you can imagine and understand his surprise when he feels his hair being yanked upward. “Ow!”

Roman laughs and retracts his hand, leaving Logan rubbing at the freshly sore spot at the crown of his head. “What? I needed you to look at me!”

“Why did you need to physically harm the literal hairs on my head to accomplish that?”

“Because it’s important to me that you get how sincere I am when I say what I’m about to say.” The look of unabashed sincerity in Roman’s face is more than a little disquieting, as Logan is far more used to Roman having at least a little humor in his expression. “You did good. You did really, really good.”

Logan looks back down at the table, at the notecards still perfectly parallel to the edge. “Huh. I guess I did, didn’t I?”

#labhwrites #mine #i'll bring you the moon #ibytm

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