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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

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Leftovers ~ HHJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2k

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Angsty (kind of) fluffy ending

A/N: I hope this is angsty enough for you, I feel so out of touch with angst atm I need to get back into it! Also I made it Hyunjin as I feel I don’t get enough Stray Kids requests haha

Staring down at your phone you waited for the message you had just sent to your boyfriend to be seen but he hadn't been checking his phone for a while. You didn't blame him, he was normally a super busy guy with training and performing but this week he'd promised you he had the time off which meant he could spend time with you. The minutes seemed to be ticking by faster and faster with every passing moment and you could feel the stares you were getting from your family members. All of the anxiously waiting to meet the boyfriend that they had heard so much about.

"I'm sure he's just running a little late," You said as you turned to look at your mother, she had a worried look spread across her face as she looked at you. Today was the day Hyunjin was finally going to meet your family after dating him for the last six months, he'd never been able to come and see them thanks to his schedule and always being busy but luckily for you he had some time off or so you though.

Hyunjin: Running late, I'll make it up to you. Promise x Be there soon x

Nervously you turned to look at your mum who already knew you what you were going to tell her, she could tell by the look on your face that he wasn't coming yet so she clapped her hands together.

"Food! Come and get it while it's still piping hot!" She cried out to the house all of your cousins and siblings came filing into the kitchen, grabbing plates and heading to the table with the food waiting for them. Serving themselves as you sat in the kitchen window looking out of the window at the driveway, you figured if you stared long enough Hyunjin would magically appear with the best excuse in the world. It was this time of year when your family would come together to throw some gatherings, it wasn't anything huge but your mother would spend most of her time cooking and baking so that there was enough to eat that night and then for a week after. Sending people home with boxes filled to the brim with food, this was just something that she'd done for years. You had vivid memories of you and your cousins going to different family member's houses to do the same thing there too.

"What? No Hyunjin?" The voice of your cousin Paige rang through the air and it could have sent shivers down your spine. Although she was your relative and you'd been brought up to treat everyone nicely there was just something about her that made it hard for you to be nice. She was always making it out as though she was better than everyone around her, no matter what situation someone was in she would make it about her. It was as if she thought she was the main character in some kind of story.

"Drop it, Paige," Your mother warned her as she watched you tense up at the sound of your cousin's voices filling the room. Your mother knew that there was something between the two of you so she did her best to keep the peace but Paige wasn't going to just drop it, she'd been convinced that Hyunjin was someone you were pretending to date. Claiming that he was too good for you and that you could never get someone like him, going as far as to say that he wasn't real when your mother knew he was. Your mother was the one who had introduced you and Hyunjin, she'd been friends with his family for a long time and introduced you once when you were having breakfast with his mother.

"I just find it funny, he's supposed to show up when we're all here and then doesn't? Sounds fake to me," Your mother slammed a plate down onto the table making you and Paige jump, you turned to look over your shoulder at her and smiled weakly.

"He's a busy guy, eat your food Paige and be quiet." You mumbled as you moved away from the window and went to get something to eat instead of waiting around for Hyunjin who didn't seem as though he was going to be coming tonight.

"All I'm saying is, it's funny that he never shows up when we're all around and only you and your mother have seen him," You rolled your eyes at Paige as she said it. You were sitting at the adult table with her and two of your other cousins who seemed to be joining in with her on the whole "Hyunjin" wasn't real front.

"Why do you want to see him? He's my boyfriend," You stated as you pushed some of the food that was on the plate in front of you into your mouth. Trying to act as though you weren't bothered by her more than you were, but it was hard when she made everything so difficult.

"I just think you're bullshitting, there's no way someone like him would date someone like you," She spat out as she sipped on her wine glass but you just ignored her. She'd seen the photos of you and Hyunjin together why did you need to prove yourself to her in the first place. There was no reason for you to explain yourself to her or anyone else for that matter, your mother eyed you up from the other table so you kept your cool.

"He isn't dating her, they're probably just friends. Hyunjin could do a lot better than you." Paige got up from the table and went into the kitchen while you were left with your other cousins who just sat giggling at one another while you tried not to let her words get to you.

The end of the night came and Hyunjin was still a no show, with no explanation over a text from him either.

"You have to ignore Paige, you know what she's like," Your mother said as you slid your phone back into your pocket, deciding not to ask him for answers if he was that busy.

"I know, but she just winds me up so much and now I feel like an idiot because of Hyunjin not showing up-"

"I'm sure he just got swept up," Your mum calmly cut you off as you helped her package food up for your cousins that were staying for the night. Lots of containers were being placed into bags for them to take home the next morning. She always liked to look on the brighter side of things instead of always assuming the worst so she wasn't going to let you get into a small fight over Hyunjin not coming to a family gathering.

"I made him this," She slid a bag over to you and inside was a box of each food item she'd cooked, including some of the baked goods. The tubs all had cute notes on them from her, all handwritten with smiley faces on the top.

"Tell him to share with the others as well," She ordered as she pointed at you, she knew that if she handed over a box of everything all of the boys would get a fair share but you looked down at your phone when you felt it vibrate. His name flashing up on the screen with a short text explaining that he was outside the house.

"He's outside..." You whispered looking at the time, your mother nodded at you and kissed your temple, she turned off the kitchen lights as she walked you towards the front door.

"Make sure you lock the door when you come back in, don't be out there too late and put a scarf on. It's cold." You smiled as you took the bag with you towards the front door. It was pitch black and snowing outside, nothing except the security light was illuminating the driveway. Once your mother was upstairs you began opening the door as quietly as you could before heading out to see Hyunjin standing beside his car with a guilty look plastered across his face.

"I know, I messed up but-" You cut him off by handing him the bag of food and smiling at him, shaking your head as you told him that it didn't matter.

"Mum made food for you and the boys, she said you have to share." He took the bag from your hand and passed it through the car window, leaving it to lean on the seats as he went to reach out to hug you.

"I got caught up," You shook your head at him, you promised yourself you weren't going to make this into a big deal but you looked at him and felt nothing but anger about him not even showing up until late.

"I already look like an idiot in front of everyone, so you might as well go back to the dorms," You muttered as you turned to go back into the house but Hyunjin grabbed onto your hand spinning you back around to face him.

"You don't look like an idiot, I can explain to them that-"

"That what? That you got too busy with your friends to come and be with me?" You heard a snigger come from the window above the front door and you knew it was Paige without turning around. She'd managed to weasel herself into your head and fill it with thoughts of not being good enough for Hyunjin.

"I was working but I'm free now. I took more time off...I'm all yours now Y/n," He told you as he reached up to cup your face in his hands but you moved away from his touch, not looking at him as you began to speak.

"You should go I'm not good enough for you and I won't ever be good enough," Hyunjin began to shake his head violently as he heard the words coming from you, he refused to let go of you as he held onto your hand.

"Where is this coming from? I-I love you and you love me, I told you I would never leave," Memories of the first time he told you he loved you came flooding into your head. You were hanging out at the dorms when he blurted it out, promising you that he would never leave you because you were the one for him.

"You deserve better-"

"No, I deserve and want you." He cut you off, not wanting you to fill your head with the words you were saying but it was already too late. Your head was in a spin from everything Paige had been saying and now he was here in front of you, you were starting to believe it.

"You're out of-" He smashed his lips against yours not letting you finish the sentence as he kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your body so you couldn't pull away from him. Whining against his lips you wrapped your arms around his neck and relaxed against the kiss, feeling every spark and firework explode around you as you did with every kiss you shared with Hyunjin.

"I'm sorry," You whispered as you pulled away from the kiss and looked into his eyes but he shook his head at you.

"It's okay, do you still want me to leave?" You shook your head at his question and he smiled at you, kissing your cheek as he went back to the car to get his overnight bag out from the boot.

"Good, Felix told me to bring you some cookies so they're in the bottom of the bag," He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and walking into the house with you. Both of you stared up at the stairs to see Paige staring at you, arms folded over her chest as she walked away with a pout on her lips.

"Who was-"

"No one you need to think about, come on...I'm still hungry and we have left overs." You giggled pulling him through towards the kitchen.

Tagline: @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @minholuvs @bisexualmess007

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pokemon-ninjago-world · 3 years

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Headcanon/Pokéninjago version of Lloyd’s identity crisis during season 5 of Ninjago

Got ab 12 likes on the announcement post so here we are: This is an essay-sorta-thing about something I thought and wrote some six years ago. It’s been so long since I wrote this I feel cringy reading it, but it’s tenable in Pokéninjago lore. It’s kind of a mix between my headcanon for the show, and canon of my AU, which is why there is mentions of “evolving” and Pokémon types.

Things to take into account:

Idk if there should be content warnings, but depression mention at least. Otherwise, this is pretty much as intense as season 5 went, just a little more angsty I suppose.

I must say that my version of Lloyd and his identity crisis were inspired by a certain artist’s version of him and by a comic they made about the Child’s Play episode’s aftermath. I don’t dare name the artist, since they don’t wish to be linked with the Ninjago fandom anymore, but some of you might know who I’m referring to.

I do not know how psychology stuff actually works, all of this was made on grounds of a couple of high school psychology courses and a lot of imagination `:D

I wrote this originally in Finnish and let Word translate it, so this might be v clumsy at points.

Most of the text is under the cut!

~***~

When Lloyd was just a small cub, closer to three years, his mother had left him in his father's care. Misako knew the boy would become the Green Ninja and Garmadon would become the Dark Lord. That is why she went looking for any ancient knowledge to avoid the final confrontation. Although her heart was torn since she had to leave her loved ones, she knew that she couldn’t just sit on her hands, and that perhaps she was the only one that could prevent the decisive battle between good and evil. It was also her wish that the father and the son could spend as much time together as possible. Thus, Lloyd's earliest childhood memories are about his father, and his recollections of his mother are blurry, obscure, and fading away as he grows up, or mixing with other memories.

Dad meant everything to little Lloyd. Although they lived in the same monastery with Lloyd’s uncle as well, whom he also liked, his own father was still the greatest. Garmadon also loved his child deeply and wanted him to have a happy life. Although the poison in his veins was starting to get a hold of him and he was increasingly drawn to the Golden Weapons, his love for Lloyd and the desire to be with him in anticipation of Misako's return kept him away from them for much longer than if the boy had never existed.

When Lloyd "evolved," he lost some important years of his life, during which a youngster usually developes a picture of himself and his changing body. Lloyd's body changed in a single moment and even though his mind also changed to some degree, it was still mostly on the same level as before, since artificial aging did not bring him the years of experience that growing up normally would. From that moment on, he had to form himself a new image of himself. Frankly, he was facing a fierce identity crisis.

After the episode Child's Play, Lloyd adopted an identity whose foundation was flimsy and unstable. It consisted of a few simple pillars that supported his image of himself. Some emotions, thoughts, and memories that he could not, wasn’t able to or didn’t dare to deal with, secretly and slowly gnawed at those pillars like erosion. They grew into doubt that settled into the cracks like rockfoil.

That flimsy foundation for his self-image, consisted of these elements: I am the Green Ninja. I'm the strongest ninja of all. I’m the son of sensei Garmadon. I’m the grandson of The First Spinjitzu Master. I'm one of the Elemental Masters. I'm a student of Sensei Wu. I'm one of the five elemental ninjas. It's my destiny to protect the world from evil.

This made it easy for Morro to destabilize and crush Lloyd’s self-esteem. Morro proved himself to be stronger and more independent than Lloyd, and that he could win him over and over again, no matter how hard Lloyd tried to fight back. Lloyd felt weak and desperate. Two pillars of his self-image collapsed to the ground and the masked emotions and doubts that chipped away at the other columns began to grow and intensify: He was not the strongest ninja and was therefore unable to protect the world from this evil.

This also affected his view of him as the Green Ninja. Although logically he still was just that – the Golden Weapons and his powers had proven it – he could not help but think that maybe Morro really was supposed to be the Chosen One. His identity was cracking, which ate away at his strength and self-esteem. Being a Psychic Type, his greatest strength resided in his psyche, and whenever his mind was in an unstable and vulnerable state, he couldn’t do his best, even if he had used everything he had learned. Losing his father fairly recently had already struck a dangerous notch in his mental stability.

Even though Lloyd was still his father's son, it didn't feel the same when he was no longer with him. Finally, he was only driven forward by his relationship with his other loved ones. He had to do everything he could to stop Morro from harming his friends. By protecting them he was also protecting the last intact remnants of his Self.

Lloyd did everything he could to resist Morro's possession. From time to time a memory of his friends and the will to keep them safe increased his "self-control," weakening the ghost's hold on him. However, a long, grueling time in constant motion, without water and nourishment, poisoned by a cold, vindictive spirit, steadily filled his mind with anguish and despair. Doubts penetrated deep into the tears of his self-image, breaking everything old until he no longer knew who he was. Only with the last bits of his mental strength could he interfere with Morro's possession so that he failed to clear the other ninjas out of his way.

Then, when Morro broke away from Lloyd's body, the Espeon felt like nothing more than an empty, broken shell floating aimlessly in the dark, beachless sea. He was unable to live up to any of the expectations and goals that had been set for him. Now, he was used as a trade-in item in the market of the world’s destiny. He longer had the strength or power to save even his best friends. He was as helpless as a newborn pup and all he could do was to stand by and apologize when he was traded for Realm Crystal.

Somewhere from his past, he dug up one last spark of strength. Already as a child, he had been left alone with unfriendly people, who then had ignited that stubborn flame in him: the desire to fight the cruel, unjust and repressive world. His body still had more strength than his mind, and this momentary burst of grit made him kick the Crystal out of Morro's hand. This, however, caused him to end up in the freezing stream, all his energy used up. There was not much left but a primitive desire to survive and a little strength to keep his head afloat before the cold numbed his muscles.

Lloyd's mind was in shambles. Images, memories, shattered fragments of his adopted identity… they all churned in his tired, blurred consciousness. Unintentionally, he began to go through the feelings of uncertainty, fear and inadequacy that he had denied from himself for years. The present seemed more surreal than the memories. He relived moments that had had a revolutionary impact on his life: When the golden weapons pointed him out as a Green Ninja; when he grew up under the influence of Tomorrow's Tea; when he met his mother and became to know her; when he unleashed the Golden Dragon in the Temple of Light; how he fought the Overlord who was possessing his father; how he harnessed his True Potential; got his father back; lost Zane; reunited his friends again and felt great togetherness with the other Elemental Masters. When he lost his father again. And when Morro possessed him.

Lloyd was lost. If it wasn’t for his friends and their care, he would have sunk deep into depression (and, on the other hand, drowned or, at the very least, died of hypothermia). When Kai carried him out of the FSM’s tomb, it triggered a very clear memory of the day when the Master of Fire had fulfilled his potential and Lloyd had been identified as the Chosen One. That day, Kai had come to save him from an erupting volcano and carried him to safety. Now, Lloyd felt like he was that little scared cub again, who had for a moment thought he was going to burn to the ground in the boiling lava of the volcano. He remembered how Kai's closeness had brought a feeling of immediate security around him. Even though the mountain had raged and wanted to kill them both, Lloyd had known he didn’t have to be afraid. Kai was there. He'd protect Lloyd. There was no reason to fight the fear anymore, he didn't have to pretend like he was tough. He was carried by someone older and stronger, whom to rely on.

The feeling was so intense, the memory so vivid that Lloyd was overwhelmed by an inexplicable, immense grief. The sadness of being forced to give up a carefree childhood so early on, to take on an enormous responsibility and assume a role that seemed too demanding for such a small boy to perform. He had had to grow up way too soon. He started shaking from holding back the tears. He didn’t mind since he thought Kai was probably assuming that he was shivering from the cold. But when Kai said quietly and understandingly: "Shh... It's okay... Don't worry about it," the last wall of pride and fear fell, and Lloyd could no longer repress his weeping.

At this point, he slowly began to build a new identity on the ruins of the wrecked one. He understood that even though he was the Green Ninja, it didn’t make him greater or more important than the others. He had more magical power than anyone else, but he was still only a person just like them. He could hesitate, too, and fail. There was no way for him to do anything more than what he was capable of, mentally, physically, and skill-wise. That’s all there was to offer, and if it wasn't enough, there were others whom he could rely on. Others, who would catch him when he ran out of strength. He wasn't the last link to hold the whole structure together.

These ideas developed slowly in Lloyd's exhausted mind. Slowly, he got stitched back up from the fragments of his previous self-image. This time, however, his new identity was not something that was given to him from the outside, in which he would have had to fit himself, but it was a solid, authentic self-image created as a result of self-reflection. It was still obscure, uncertain and seeking its form, and its growth was overshadowed by fear. But the conversation with his father drove away that last fear. The fear that Morro was supposed to be the Green Ninja instead of Lloyd. His father assured that Lloyd’s qi had no influence on how he should live and act. He should live the way his heart told him to.

In the end, although Morro managed to beat Lloyd one last time, this time he did not break down. He was more intact now, he had more inner strength, and he knew for sure he wouldn't be abandoned. That the fate of the world wasn't really up to him. He may have been part of the story, but after all, he wasn't the protagonist, at least not the only one of them.

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seiin-translations · 4 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 1.1: Young Yunichika

1. FIRST TOUCH

For this whole series, just imagine that everyone except Haijima is talking in dialect

Translation Notes

1. Itoko (従姉妹) is the Japanese word for cousin, so Kuroba’s itoko is Itoko, it’s a pun

Previous || Index || Next

Continuing to fall almost nonstop since New Years’ Eve, the snow completely buried the school building right after winter break. It was just like a drifting classroom isolated in the gaps of space-time. The window glass that was pure-white with condensation cut off any connection to the outside world, and the air warmed by the stove amassed in the classroom without circulating. Steam rose gently from the brass basin that was placed on the stovetop, and the air near the ceiling appeared to flicker.

The old school building seemed to be creaking under the weight of the snow, and he was afraid that it was going to collapse, but it had held up every year without any problems. If only somewhere else in the school—like around the principal’s office—had been crushed flat, the talks of renovation would have proceeded quickly.

I mean, Grandpa can just make a donation. Should I try asking him seriously this time?

He thought that for a moment, but there was no doubt that he would have graduated by the time the new school building was completed, so that was a little silly. The middle school in the neighboring Suzumu City, which he had visited before at a town exchange event, was a new, clean, and sturdy reinforced concrete building, and the entire building was warm even though there were no kerosene heaters to be seen anywhere. He received a culture shock when he learned that the toilets were not cold.

I wanna be in high school soon, he thought vaguely. Since there were no high schools in town, you would have to go to Suzumu City for the closest one. However, the one year and three months until graduation was a length that could be called an eternity.

Fourteen years old. He had finally just started the third semester of his second year of middle school.

“The transfer student’s late, isn’t he?”

After performing the penance of opening ceremony in the frigid gym, Kuroba Itoko said and she hung her behind on the edge of his desk during the strangely slow waiting time after they returned to the classroom. “Heave ho,” she said as she wriggled her butt back to put her thighs on his desk, so Kuroba Yuni reflexively removed his chin resting in his hands on the desk and leaned back. This is just a bit embarrassing, oi… Even if all the female middle and high school students in the city did it, it was hard to understand why so many girls were shortening their skirts when the circumstances in this snowy country was different.

Itoko’s class was Class 2 next door, but she often made trips to Class 1. From entry to elementary school to middle school graduation, the faces in each grade didn’t change fundamentally, so everyone knew each other even though the classes were different. She seemed to have gotten some kind of information from the group of Class 1 girls who were still talking at the doorway even now.

That was right, a transfer student was arriving. There was no small amount of excitement in the air in Class 2-1 for the big event of the new semester, which was rarely encountered. It was a depopulating town where the number of people in school decreased, but rarely increased. What was more, apparently the transfer student was coming from Tokyo, so the expectations were high no matter what.

“I wonder if he’ll be cute. I hope he’ll be cute.”

“He has a normal face. Maybe a bit below normal.”

“You knew him until you guys were in senior kindergarten, right? He might have gotten cute.”

“I’m telling you, he didn’t. He’s going to be a pipsqueak with glasses who’s bad at sports. He became a wuss who’d get scared by this amount of snow...”

“What’s with you, are you sulking? You really are a little kid…”

“Shut up. I told you stop acting like you’re my big sister. The teacher’s coming soon so get back to your own class.”

As soon as he told her to stop, Itoko said, “Yes, yes, what a hopeless kid” with the utmost superior look on her face, shrugged her shoulders and jumped down from the table. Her short skirt fluttered lightly.

“I’m wearing underpants, so there’s no use peeking.”

“Did you make knitted panties? So ugly. I don’t get why you try so hard to look like that.”

“Being stylish is all about grit.”

Brushing aside the unintentional insult that rushed out of his mouth, Itoko slipped through the gaps between the messily aligned desks. Since she didn’t deny the knitted panties, did that mean that was true?

Kuroba Yuni and Kuroba Itoko had the same family name, but they were not siblings. It either made it confusingly similar or easy to understand, but…Itoko was his cousin. (1) They had the same grandfather and their fathers were brothers. She always acted like his older sister, but they were the same age, and since Kuroba was born in September and Itoko was born in October, he wanted to assert the fact that he was the one who was older.

She turned her miffed face away and rested her chin in her hands again. Kuroba’s seat was at very back by the window—until today. When he came to school today, a brand new desk and chair was brought in behind him.

He wiped the condensation on the window with his palm. Even when he cleared away the white film, all you could see beyond it was a blanket of white snow. The snow had stopped for now, but heavy snow clouds remained in the sky, and it wouldn’t be unusual if it started snowing some time again. There was a narrow path created from the school gate to the building sandwiched between walls of snow, but since the snow removal operation in the early morning, it had gotten buried again by the continuing snow.

He squinted outside the window to see if there was anything visible in the white. He was a slow and clumsy kid, so I hope he didn’t get stuck buried in the snow or something…

The truth was, Kuroba took pride in the fact that he was looking forward to the transfer student more than anyone else, a hundred or a thousand times more than Itoko or his classmates. Even though he was supposed to have finished moving house during winter break, he showed no indication of coming over to his house to show his face, so he was just a little frustrated about that and his excitement went down. They parted with each other in senior kindergarten, so it had been eight years. He wondered if he had been thoroughly steeped in Tokyo and forgot about this place.

Although, it wasn’t as if Kuroba remembered a lot either. He could remember meaningless episodes like what he did to get injured or what he did to get scolded, but as soon as he tried to systematically trace his memories, they became hazy. Like a snow scene that became misty with a glass that was already clouding over again—

In the midst of the white, he could see a flicker of something black moving.

Surprised, he half-rose to his feet and pasted himself to the window. There were two figures walking in the gorge between the walls of snow that seemed like they could collapse at any minute.

“…He’s here!”

He unintentionally exclaimed, and the miscellaneous chatter that filled the classroom quickly faded. There was a beat, and then shouts of joy rose. His more than thirty classmates surged towards the window and lined their faces.

The smaller figure, dressed in a stocky blouson down coat, was an old lady when he looked closer. So that means the other, bigger figure was…? Wait, how can he be that big…He was confused for a moment because he didn’t match his image of that kindergarten kid.

However, as soon as he strained his eyes and looked into his face, a warm-colored lantern lit up the snowy landscape of his white hazy memory, and a fresh image appeared in his mind.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Certainly, there was the face of a crying kindergartener who came to say goodbye to him while sobbing eight years ago. His pale face was drenched with tears, and even his glasses were wet. No matter how much he wiped them with his hands, large drops of tears continued to run down his cheeks, so much that he was worried that he was going to squeeze all the water out of his body.

That’s right, the glasses. He was already wearing glasses in kindergarten, and that might have helped giving him an introverted and quiet impression. Glasses and short and bad at sports. That was exactly his impression at that time. Once he remembered one thing, the vivid parts increased one after the other. One lantern lit a new lantern, and it became brighter and brighter.

Immediately, he stopped caring about how he didn’t come to see him over winter break or any of those small grievances. With impatient hands, he unfastened the screw lock on the window frame and threw open the window. The cold wind blew in and his classmates reproached him with “It’s so cold—“, but everyone’s voices bounced off him. Fine snowflakes blown up together with the wind struck his face. He shook his head and brushed away the snow.

“Chika!”

He leaned so far out the window that it looked like he was about to fall down and raised his voice.

The figure stopped and looked up. His eyes met his through thin-framed glasses. How will he react at first? His heart was beating fast from the anticipation.

He just reacted in such an indifferent way, like he just happened to exchange lines of sight with a stranger. He moved his face down without changing expression and disappeared into the shade of the eaves of the school entrance. The old lady who was left behind bowed slightly like she was troubled and followed after him, her snow boots making crunching noises.

Huh…? Did he…forget me?

Feeling let down, Kuroba stood stock still near the window. The two footprints that continued from the school gate were swept away by the white snow-mixed wind as the hanging lanterns that lit his memories went out with a puff.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Haijima Kimichika-kun came from Tokyo. It seems that his grandfather’s house is in town, and he lived in Suzumu City until kindergarten. Perhaps some of you might know him.”

The gazes of everyone in the class was focused on the gangly school uniform standing at the teacher’s podium. How tall is he, it looks like he’s about the same as me? Kuroba thought absentmindedly as he stared at the small tip on the first stroke of “Hai” from the family name that was written vertically on the blackboard by the homeroom teacher. From among the three past elements of glasses, being tiny, and bad at sports, the glasses remained and pipsqueak disappeared. The remaining unknown was his motor skills.

He had a pale, smooth face and a rather neat set of features. If he had to decide between strong or weak, he would say they were weak. Depending on how you looked at it, they might look reptilian. At the very least, the characteristics of an idol-like pretty boy that Itoko had sweetly hoped for were nonexistent. To be frank, he seemed unfriendly. He still hadn’t smiled even once since he entered the classroom. He didn’t even try to look around at his classmates’ faces, just pursing his lips together and staring at his feet. Hmm, shyness?

“Kuroba-kun.”

Suddenly called on by the teacher, he made a stupid “Yeah?” sound.

“Haijima-kun played volleyball in his last school, so he will be joining the volleyball team. Please teach him about the team activities. Also, Haijima-kun’s eyesight is not good, but as you can see, he is tall, so you will move a seat behind. He will be the second from the back by the window.

Still without saying a word or even making a sound, Hajima nodded, took his bag and descended from the podium. Everyone’s interested gazes moved with his movements. As he turned twice at right angles and walked over to him without hesitation, Kuroba hurriedly got up as though to jump out of the way, and he put his bag on Kuroba’s seat with a thump before sitting down.

“Oh,” When Kuroba started to talk to him,

“…?”

He glared at him with a sideways glance, looking suspicious. What he placed on his desk was a somewhat stylish dark red backpack that looked like something from a school in the city, and had a somewhat stylish, unfamiliar school emblem embroidered on it.

“No…it’s fine.”

Kuroba took the seat behind his, thinking, Well, if he’s fine with it, then I guess it’s okay. Unlike his desk, which had scribbles carved all over it with a cutter, the desk prepared for Haijima was still brand new, the surface shining brightly.

“Hey, how tall are you? You’re seventy, right?”

He leaned over the desk, poked the back before him and started talking to him. Kuroba was 173 centimeters. He had heard that the average height for second-year middle school boys was around 160, so he was on the considerably tall side.

Haijima turned around, looking like he couldn’t be bothered. His narrow eyes glared at him again. A gaze where you couldn’t feel anything like charm or friendliness at all, as if all the temperature was absorbed while passing through the thin lens of his glasses.

“Your position?”

That was the first sound he made since entering the classroom. Similar to his eyes, the way he spoke made you wonder if he had thrown away all his charm and friendliness at a station on the express train ride here from Tokyo. His voice finished changing…maybe? He had a low voice that carried well. It was just a bit frustrating.

“On the volleyball team?”

Haijima raised his eyebrows and repeated his words when Kuroba was just staring at him vacantly. Huh? His intonation felt strange. He was speaking in standard Japanese. Has it always been that way? It shouldn’t be like that, though.

“Oh, oooh, that’s what you meant by position?” This guy talked in a way that lopped off the context before and after his words. “Well, let’s see, I feel like we didn’t really decide them…”

“You didn’t decide? What do you do in matches?”

“Matches? Ah…”

He hadn’t heard that word in a long time. After gaping like it was someone else’s problem,

“We’ve never been in a proper match. It’s a club of guys who only belong to it in name only, and the practice days are whenever. Look, you have to join a club here. Don’t you know that?”

An expression that actually looked like an expression appeared on Haijima’s face, it looked like. Though it was only slightly, his narrow eyes widened—is this shock? And then his eyes suddenly lowered, his mouth turning down at the corners. Is this sadness?

“Oh, was your old school really strong?”

Crap, I might make him cry. He didn’t really understand, but he felt that he said something wrong, and when he panickily tried to stay on topic,

“Tch…”

He heard that. No way, did he click his tongue just now?

“So you’re just uselessly big?”

He heard a sudden, unbelievable insult from the mouth of the transfer student, who one would think would be generally burning with the desire to build good relationships with the people at his new school. With that, Haijima abruptly faced forward and started emitting an aura of “Don’t ever talk to me” from his back. Kuroba could do nothing but stare at that amazingly obstinate back with his mouth wide open.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Which station did you lose the “Chika” from eight years ago who was sobbing because he didn’t want to say goodbye?

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43: seiin koukou danshi volley-bu #2.43 translation #2.43 book 1

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cristalconnors · 3 years

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TOP TEN ALBUMS OF 2020

10. Women in Music pt. III, HAIM

Think back on all the flavor of the month acts that came and went in the 2010s, bursting onto the scene with a distinct sound and, inevitably, a sophomore album that proved their toolkit wasn't all that deep or varied. It was easy to imagine this fate for Haim, with the bubblegum pop rock of their juggernaut debut Days Are Gone in permanent rotation at Forever 21. That in 2020, nearly 8 years after their meteoric rise, they'd deliver an artistic declaration this varied and admirably strange is kind of shocking. You can hear the liberation of stylistic experimentation across the album as the Haim sisters let go of any ideas they had about how their music should sound.

9. songs, ADRIANNE LENKER

With the world on pause, sequestered in a cabin in The Berkshires, time and space folded in on themselves for Adrianne Lenker when she wrote the 11 tracks on the aptly titled songs. Refracted childhood memories, tender observations on relationships built and broken, and stunningly ethereal ruminations on the nature of life and death coalesce into an improbably straightforward folk album that feels almost like a religious experience.

8. What’s Your Pleasure? JESSIE WARE

What’s Your Pleasure? is often heralded as a glorious revival of disco, and it is that, but it isn’t just disco. It’s also classic R&B. It’s modern synthpop. It’s Prince. Jessie Ware’s luscious tour of the dancefloor tries on a lot of different subgenres on for size and they all fit like a pair of skin tight bell bottoms as Ware puts on her boogie shoes, lets her hair down, and exudes confidence and raw sensuality.

7. Muthaland, BBYMUTHA

Trap at its most effervescent. Brittnee Moore is firing on all cylinders as she crafts a deceptively complex, hilariously filthy freak-out that charms with its saucy witticisms and insightful observations on motherhood set atop sprawling, immersive beats. The smartest, most expansive rap album of the year and it’s a debut! Look out for bbymutha.

6. folklore, TAYLOR SWIFT

What a journey I’ve had with Taylor Swift. I couldn’t stand her for years. Hers was music for the simple, homophobic Baptist girls I went to high school with, not me. Still, the rapturous praise folklore received upon its surprise release piqued my interest, so I gave it a go. Listening to it, I couldn’t reconcile what was happening- why is this so good? Everything I’d ever heard of hers (admittedly not much beyond the singles) had been so wooden. So Wal-Mart. But this was stunning. Lush production you could bathe in. Complex melodies atop sparse accompaniment, drawing out layers of meaning in Swift’s lyrics. Was she always like this and I was just a hater? I went back to make sure and *Annette Bening voice* well, yes and no. While I’ll say I hand’t been giving her enough credit before, this is still leaps and bounds better than anything she’s ever done. Of all the unwelcome changes 2020 brought me, becoming a Swiftie wasn’t so bad, I guess.

5. how i’m feeling now, CHARLI XCX

When we first went into quarantine, we all had that one friend we were particularly worried about how they were going to fare in lockdown. Oh, her? She’s gonna lose her fucking mind 6 weeks in. Charli XCX strikes me as that girl. Hell, she was regularly performing at warehouse parties in her mid-teens. Her whole life has played out at the club, surrounded by strangers and friends alike, lost together in the pulse of the dancefloor. But it turns out, being involuntarily thrust into a life of domesticity turned out to be good for her. Trapped together with her boyfriend for the longest consecutive period of time in their 7-year relationship, she sounds more content here than she ever has. The vast majority of these tracks are incredibly vulnerable, relatively straight forward love songs, not distracted by the frenzied production of A.G. Cook and co. but rather deepened by it.

4. Fetch the Bolt Cutters, FIONA APPLE

In an era where most music is made with the expectation that its listener will be wearing headphones or earbuds, Fetch the Bolt Cutters demands to be played on the record player in the living room. It needs to reverberate off your walls and fill the room to the point where you can’t tell if the many household sounds that populate the album are coming from your house or hers. Fiona Apple moves with the trees in the breeze, but also the blinds, the floorboards, the pots and pans. She achieves a kind of symbiosis with her surroundings to create a world that’s tactile and buzzes with an always palpable, hard earned sense of self that she’s still working at.

3. Róisín Machine, RÓISÍN MURPHY

"Fuck, I’m still unfolding” Róisin Murphy tells NME. So are the 10 tracks of the brilliantly titled Róisín Machine, the only disco released this year that a) actually sounds like it should be playing at the Paradise Garage, and b) pushes the genre into uncharted territory. Parrot’s production is velvet smooth, with heavy, rattling bass and synths that breathe, pulling its listener like a current you can’t fight and don’t want to. What a blessing to all the gays that discovered Murphy via Grey’s Anatomy and So You Think You Can Dance all those years ago to have this miracle of an album.

2. Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, PERFUME GENIUS

The corporeal and the divine cross paths often on Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, a vivid symphonic vision that is, like Mike Hadreas’s voice, in turns delicate and coarse, evoking baroque pop at times, shoegaze at others, but feels beholden to nothing. After a near decade as music’s premier purveyor of queer longing, this is Perfume Genius’s panoramic opus.

1. Heaven to a Tortured Mind, YVES TUMOR

Yves Tumor confronts stardom on Heaven to a Tortured Mind. Granted, they’re more critical darling than household name, but listening to this you’d think they were Bowie at the height of the Ziggy Stardust years, being dogged by rabid fans everywhere they went. This is rockstar shit. After the sinister textures of 2018’s masterful Safe in the Hands of Love, electric guitar becomes Sean Bowie’s talisman, unlocking a newfound swagger and fire that permeates every minute of this jagged, unhinged rock n roll triumph.

MORE READING:

#30-21, #20-11

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thephantomessoftheopera · 3 years

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Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 12: “Above the Trapdoors”

Dressing room at the Opera, image from “Le Fantôme de l’Opéra” by Gérard Fontaine

<< Previous chapter

This chapter follows the “secret engagement” between Christine and Raoul - or rather, their make-believe engagement (as it was not quite secret either - it is later revealed that Erik knew about it and had even encouraged her to go ahead with it).

The day following the events of the previous chapter, Raoul meets Christine - who is still wearing her ring - at the Opera. He tells her that his departure for the North Pole is imminent and will take place in three or four weeks’ time, and Christine almost happily encourages him to go. While Christine seems quite cheerful at the thought that they will part ways forever in a few weeks, Raoul suggests that he need not go if they got engaged on the spot, but she tells him that this is out of the question. Christine still believes that she will never marry Raoul and I personally believe that, because she would not promise not to leave Mama Valerius, she probably expects either a life with Erik or her own death at this point. Raoul’s departure would also provide a “natural” resolution to the love triangle that they are entangled in, so her happiness might also be due to this resolving her inner conflict. I personally always find the idea of Erik and Christine plotting to send Raoul off to the North Pole quite entertaining!

However, to create a happy memory for them both, she thinks it would be a great idea to play at being secretly engaged like little kids for the next month (they are compared to a brother and sister twice in this chapter). Turns out, it’s not *such* a great idea. Christine thought that it would be “a happiness that will harm no one” - neither Raoul, nor her, nor Erik.

However, Raoul seems to be rather serious in his intentions of asking her to marry him and only takes the “engagement game” as an opportunity of buying time in order to make her forget the “man’s voice” and make her consent to becoming his wife. But after a week of playing at being engaged, Raoul cannot take any more blows to his heart and tells Christine that he won’t go to the North Pole anymore. Christine realizes what a dangerous game they have been playing, and leaves him.

The next day, Raoul tries to seek her out at her home, where Mama Valerius tells him that Christine left at 5 o’clock the preceding evening, and that she would be back in two days. When he demands to know more, she only tells him that it is “Christine’s secret”. It is quite obvious that she has run off to Erik - probably because things have not been going according to the plan which foresaw Raoul’s departure to the North Pole.

Two days later, she reappears on stage in “La Juive”, finally repeating her triumphant performance from the gala night (it seems that Erik and Christine have been working hard for the last two days!). Christine has now been given a temporary contract for replacing Carlotta, who was no longer willing to return to the place that had seen her turned her into a croaking toad. After the performance, Christine leads Raoul to her dressing-room, where he promises that he will leave as agreed. When he leaves, she tries to comfort him, telling him that she sang for him that night.

After that, the carefree make-believe of the engagement game is gone, and Christine realizes how much Raoul is tormented by his jealousy. Now, Christine continually leads him back and forth into every corner of the opera house, even though Raoul would have preferred to go somewhere else, leaving Erik behind. But Christine always stays within the fantasy realm of the opera house, which is brought to life by her vivid imagination. According to her, it is the perfect place for their love because that is also “just an illusion”, which shatters Raoul’s heart into a thousand pieces all over. They balance along the upper flies, revel in the costume rooms, visit elderly couples who have been secretly living inside the opera house for years, and pass through the ballet girls (or “rats”, as they were usually called) in training, where Christine hands out sweets to the young girls.

”Ballet dancers” by Jules René Hervé

Here, we get to see yet more different sides to her. She’s a little wild, kind to others and very popular with everyone at the opera house because she takes an interest in the people around her. In the ALW musical, she often seems to be a bit of a wallflower, but Leroux describes her as a “popular queen”. Between her and Erik, they have apparently divided the opera house into two realms - everything underground belongs to him, and everything above ground belongs to her.

Christine now grows increasingly restless, agitated and tormented. When Raoul asks her if she is afraid of “him” (not saying the name Erik out loud for fear that this will alert him to their presence), she denies it, but her behaviour seems to prove her wrong. He promises to protect her, but even though she looks at him like a cute little brother wanting to defend her, she doesn’t believe that he will be able to do anything.

One day, she appears rather late with eyes red from crying, and Raoul tells her that he will take her far away where Erik will not be able to find them, and that she must stop thinking about him. Her only reply is “Is that possible?” There might indeed never be a day when she won’t think of him… Raoul promises to take her away to somewhere safe, and that he will leave her there since she has promised never to marry. She does not reply and instead leads him higher still towards the rooftop.

Even though she has previously stated that Erik cannot possibly be following them because he is working on “Don Juan Triumphant” and will not care about anything else, not even eating or drinking for days and nights, that is apparently not quite true, as a silent shadow is secretly following them...

Chapters 11, 12 and 13 are prime examples of the mystery of Christine’s character. While she certainly is fond of Raoul and also loves him in a way, she is obviously suffering from internal conflict as well. More than being passionately in love with Raoul, it feels as if she thinks of him more like a dear family member (hence the comparison to a brother/sibling in this chapter). While she seems to be afraid of Erik - or perhaps more precisely, of what Erik might do - she also appears protective of him and unwilling to leave his domain. Part of the enduring appeal of the story, in my view, has to do with Christine forever leaving people to guess what exactly went on in her heart and mind.

Next chapter >>

#phantom of the opera #lerouxreadingguide #leroux phantom #the phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #erik x christine #christine daae #raoul de chagny #opera ghost #poto #the phantom #classic literature #gaston leroux

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pickledbeefwastaken · 3 years

Text

The High School Dance Fic That Nobody Asked For - Chapter 5

Finally a new chapter! Some more fluff ensues, Dave takes Klaus somewhere special, and though there’s a spot of angst here, everything will work out fine in the end, I promise.

Leave suggestions for where you want to see this go--I wrote this as a one-shot that grew out of hand so I don’t have much of a roadmap for where to take this. All suggestions welcome! Come chat Klave with me.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Also available on AO3

Days like this weren’t supposed to happen. It had to be a cosmic alignment so rare that the likes of it had maybe never even been seen before. It could be a slip into an alternate timeline or perhaps he was dying in a hospital and this was some sort of comatose fever dream. Only thing was, he wasn’t this creative—even his wildest dreams couldn’t conjure up an image as vivid as Klaus. His mind wasn’t capable of creating laughter so bright or a smile so dazzling or a person so thrilling.

Dave drove them out of town and up into the dense forest that bordered the city. He knew exactly where he wanted to take Klaus, though it was a bit of a drive. It’d give them time to talk, at least. He realized a bit belatedly that Klaus might think it was creepy that Dave was driving him up into the woods in the dark. He hadn’t really thought of that at first, and now he felt kinda bad to be keeping this a surprise. He glanced at Klaus, whose expression seemed curious, but not terribly scared or concerned.

“I’m not being a creep, I swear. I just realized how this probably looks,” he commented sheepishly, shooting Klaus a reassuring smile—at least, he hoped it’d be reassuring.

Klaus looked at him with an expression that seemed inexplicably coy and teasing. Dave knew his own face was probably some mix of concern and confusion as he glanced back at him.

“Davey, you seem more nervous than I am about it. Should I be worried?” He asked, turning in his seat a little more to face Dave more fully.

“No!” Dave said vehemently. “I can tell you where we’re going if you are worried. But I promise you’re safe.”

Klaus drummed his fingertips against his chin as he considered, “Hmm. I trust you. For now.”

When Dave glanced over, Klaus was smiling, so Dave smiled too, reaching across the divide between them to smooth his hand over the back of Klaus’s. His stomach fluttered when Klaus turned his hand over to match their fingertips together before interlacing their hands. It was perhaps a silly thing to get flustered over, holding hands, but it wasn’t really the act itself, it was the fact that it was with Klaus. It made things seem real and hopeful in a way that maybe the rest of the night hadn’t quite been. Everything with Klaus so far had been such a dream that it was hard to believe that it was real. It was even harder to believe that Klaus would still feel the same way in the morning. This little thing, the way Klaus held onto Dave’s hand so he didn’t pull it away, it felt deeper than just a night of fun that they’d pretend never happened the next day.

Dave pulled Klaus’s hand up to kiss the back of it before returning them to rest on Klaus’s thigh and when he glanced over, he swear he could see Klaus blushing as he looked down at their hands. There was a small smile on his face and when he glanced at Dave to see that he’d been looking, he smiled brighter and turned his head to look out the window. Dave just grinned and turned his attention back to the road.

“So, this mystery location,” Klaus prompted, “What sort of activities does one do there?”

Dave smiled and considered for a moment. What could he say without giving it all away.

“Well...” he said, taking his time, “It’s got some pretty great stargazing, if you’re into that.”

It was true, but it wasn’t why Dave was bringing Klaus there. If Klaus decided that’s what he wanted to do though, Dave kept a blanket under the backseat and they could lay it out and just lay in the grass for the night. There was plenty of other stuff to do though too—Dave and his older brother Michael had assembled a sort of home away from home that they could go to. It was just a simple abandoned campsite hidden off of one of the overgrown hiking trails that nobody took anymore, but for them, it’d been their clubhouse, their safe haven. They’d put in a slack line and screwed a target into a tree, stashed some throwing knives and frisbees and a football. They’d fixed the picnic table that’d been falling apart and found new rocks to ring in the fire pit with. They’d even hung some battery powered lights in the trees so when they went on overnight camping trips, they could play cards until the small hours of the morning.

"Oh, Dave, how romantic," Klaus gushed, though his voice was exaggerated and the smile on his features was both teasing and genuinely happy, so Dave could take the ribbing.

Dave just winked at him and kept driving. It was only a few more minutes until Dave pulled off on the little dirt road, one that people would miss if they weren't looking for it. They went another half-mile or so up into the hills before he pulled the truck off into a little alcove between two trees and turned the car off, glancing at Klaus.

"Wait here just a second, okay?" he said, reaching into the backseat to grab the blanket he kept there and hopped out of the car.

He made his way down the short, familiar path, hand feeling along the bark of a distinct tree until his hand closed around the battery pack for the lights. He flipped the switch and bathed the campsite in a warm, yellowish glow from the twinkly lights strung from tree to tree overhead. he smiled at how nice it looked, hoping Klaus thought it was as nice as he did. He set the blanket down on the picnic table, glancing around the little site to make sure everything was where it should be and like usual, it was.

When he was sure that things were right, the forest was appropriately quiet, and the slack line was at the right tension, he returned to the truck, opening the passenger door for Klaus.

"Holy shit, Dave. This is like..." Klaus said, turning his body to begin to climb out of the car, but his eyes were still glued to the campsite through the windshield. It made Dave's stomach perform a little show of acrobatics as he took Klaus's waist between his hands to help him down. When Klaus's feet landed on the ground, he finally tore his gaze away and when he looked at Dave, his expression was intense. He was looking at Dave with a mixture of awe and confusion on his face. There was something vulnerable about Klaus's gaze, a certain rawness that Dave could describe.

"Is...this okay?" he asked quietly, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

Klaus's expression shifted when he saw the look on Dave's face, "Oh, God yes. Dave, are you kidding? This is..." His voice trailed off again, turning his head to look at the little campsite and this time, Dave turned his head too.

This time, he looked at the spot with fresh eyes, like looking at it through Klaus's gaze and he thought he might understand why Klaus was a little speechless. In the dark, the twinkly lights strung through the trees looked hazy and magical and the space was surrounded by dark forest that was more comforting than frightening in some odd way. It was cozy and though Dave couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was about their little campsite, you could just feel that it was well loved. Maybe it was just him connecting so many good memories to this place, but he figured that Klaus must feel it too, judging by his speechlessness.

He realized then that it might be too much. It was romantic, really romantic looking. It was the kind of place where he could see himself one day proposing to the person he'd fall in love with. Considering Klaus had only just started to hover in some liminal space between friends and more tonight, it seemed like too much. His heart beat faster and he felt dread tightening his stomach. His face heated on its own accord and he swallowed hard, drawing his gaze back to Klaus, taking a minute to absorb the look on Klaus's face, at least, as much of it as he could see when Klaus's face was in profile.

"We can go, this is a lot. I know, I see that now, this was...Sorry. This was stupid," He stammered, letting go of Klaus's waist, averting his eyes.

Klaus didn't let him get far though. One second, Dave was stepping back to give Klaus a little bit of space and the next his arms were full of Klaus. He stumbled back a step or two when Klaus jumped at him, but his brain caught up quickly and he wrapped his arms around Klaus's waist, tentative at first, but then he squeezed him tighter, matching the death grip Klaus had around his neck.

"Klaus?" he asked softly, registering how hard the other was breathing.

"Dave, it's not too much, it's...I love it, I just...Nobody's ever—" Klaus tried to explain between breaths, voice quivering.

Dave rubbed his back gently, holding him securely while he waited for him to calm down a little. He didn't like that he'd made Klaus upset, but the knot in his stomach was loosening as he realized that maybe Klaus was overwhelmed in a good way instead of a bad way.

"I'm not making you uncomfortable?" he asked when Klaus seemed a bit calmer.

Dave had driven him up into the woods with nobody around for miles, to a spot that was already arranged romantically. It may have been creepy. It could easily be creepy. If Klaus was overwhelmed, he may not want to feel so isolated with Dave being his only way out of here. The thought that Klaus might be scared or worried made his stomach turn, but Klaus was hugging him tightly. His hands were fisted in Dave's shirt and so Dave relaxed a little.

Klaus shook his head, finally pulling himself back far enough that Dave could see his face. He looked at Dave squarely and brought a palm to his warm cheek.

"I'm not uncomfortable. I'm just...I—Nobody has ever done something like this for me. I mean—I know it's not /for/ me, I mean. You must take all your dates here?" Klaus said, voice a little thick, but he said the last part like he was trying to tease, turn this into a joke or a flirtation.

Dave shook his head. "No. I didn't put it together for you, that's true. But you're the only person I've ever brought here, besides my brother. We made this spot together. It was ours. It's been just mine for awhile now," he said, alluding to his brother being gone but not wanting to address it so directly.

Klaus's eyes flickered with recognition and for that, Dave was grateful. He wouldn't have to explain it to him—not yet at least. He wasn't sure he would have been able to talk about his brother, not when his heart already felt so raw and open in front of Klaus, not standing in the glow of his brother's spot.

"I know it's a lot," Dave said, chuckling a little, trying to loosen up the tension a little, "I just thought it might be nice and there's some stuff to do. We've got a slack line and a hammock and a target for throwing knives and I was being honest about the stargazing thing."

Klaus nodded and pressed up to kiss Dave, who melted into the contact, arms winding tighter around Klaus's waist. He leaned into the kiss just as much, Klaus's body bowing back as he clung to Dave's shoulders. When they parted, Dave rested his forehead against Klaus's and straightened them back out, slowly loosening his arms around Klaus's waist to rest his palms on his hips.

"What do you want to do first?" Dave asked with a smile, whispering the words into the small space between their mouths.

Klaus smiled, "I've never tried the slack line before. Is it hard?" he asked.

Dave lifted his head to look at him and grinned. "Yeah, it is. But don't worry, I'll hold your hand," he teased, doing as he said and taking Klaus's hand in his, "Come on."

He led him through the campsite to the slack line that was strung between two strong trees. He toed off his shoes and let go of Klaus's hand.

"It's easier without your shoes on. I'll show you how and then you can try," he explained.

He took a breath and focused, stepping up carefully and slowly on one end of the line. When he felt like his feet were under him, he took his hand off the tree and walked across the line, knowing he made it look easier than it really was. He'd had a lot of practice. He smiled at Klaus when the got to the end, turning to come back the other way, wobbling the line back and forth beneath him intentionally. He stopped in the middle and let himself drop to one knee on the line before bouncing back up to his feet, then let himself fall backwards, absorbing the impact along his spine before bouncing back up to his feet again. After that, he hopped down and looked at Klaus.

"Maybe today we just see if we can get you walking on it though," he teased with a wink.

Klaus looked at him, obviously impressed. "God, you're beautiful /and/ kind /and/ athletic /and/ acrobat now too?" he questioned, shaking his head, "Show off," he added under his breath, though he gave Dave a smile to let him know it was a joke.

Dave took the jab and grinned, offering his hand to Klaus. Klaus took it cautiously and toed his shoes off too. He put one foot up on the line, leaning heavily on Dave's hand and his other arm that was planted against the tree. He psyched himself up for a moment before trying to step up. He managed to get his other foot up to the line but lost his balance entirely the second he was up. Dave caught him under his arms so he wouldn't stumble all the way down to his ass and laughed.

"See? I told you it was hard. Try to keep your stomach muscles really tight and stay over your feet. And bend your knees a little. You can do it," Dave encouraged.

Klaus huffed indignantly but returned to his spot by the tree. It took him a bit longer to psyche himself up this time, but he did eventually put a foot up on the line and lifted his other off the ground, more slowly this time. The line wobbled precariously under Klaus, but he managed to get it under control until he had both feet on it.

"Ha! I did it!" he exclaimed, grinning down at Dave, though he held himself stiffly so as not to lose the delicate balance he'd found.

Dave smiled back, still holding his hand firmly. "Good job! Now try to take a step," he instructed, "Get your balance centered over one foot, then move the other slowly, then shift your weight to be split between the two."

Klaus listened and nodded, sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration. The line wobbled as he adjusted his weight to rest over his right foot, but again he held it. Gently, he moved his foot, taking a tiny step forward on the rope with his left.

"Woohoo!" Dave shouted, probably a little too exaggerated for Klaus small victory, but it made Klaus laugh.

On the next step, Klaus's foot slipped off the line and he stumbled off, feet landing in the grass. Dave made sure he was steady before helping him up again.

It continued like that, Dave giving Klaus gentle instruction, holding his hand the whole way, and Klaus stumbling on the line. It took six or seven tries and lots of laughter, but eventually, Klaus made it almost more than halfway down the line in one go, shifting from one foot to the other.

"The middle is hard because it's so much looser. And after that, you have to walk back up the line so your center of gravity changes," he explained as he steadied Klaus, kissing his cheek as he did, "But you're doing really great. You're a quick learner."

Klaus smiled and batted his eyelashes at him. "You go again. Show me more of your fancy tricks," he requested, clearly a little out of breath.

Dave did as he was asked, climbing up on the slack line. He bounced on it for a moment, considering what move to do. He started with a simple somersault along the line, followed by another few drops to his back and his knee, getting the feel for it.

"Okay, step back. I don't always land this one," he warned.

When he was sure Klaus was a safe distance away, he concentrated, bouncing a few times before he gave a hard bounce and threw himself backwards. He did a clean backflip, managing to hold his balance for a few moments before he had to swing his arms and ended up having to step off the line. He laughed.

"Almost. I'll get better at it," he shrugged, sitting on the line toward the center, sinking halfway to the ground.

Klaus gave him a round of applause, practically skipping over to drop down on the line next to Dave, making it dip further. Their weight in the center made it so they slid close, shoulders pressed impossibly close, but Dave obviously didn't mind, smiling.

"You're pretty good at this stuff," Klaus complimented, leaning his head on Dave's shoulder. "I'm impressed."

Dave smiled and twined their fingers together. "I've had a lot of practice. My brother and I used to come here all the time. It was our getaway."

Klaus was looking at Dave with intensity in his eyes that he couldn't interpret. He just looked back, caught helplessly in that gaze. He looked at Dave like he was trying to figure him out, like he was fighting some internal civil war, though he couldn't guess at what it might be about. Dave just looked back, feeling like his chest was flayed open, like all of his clockwork parts were on display for Klaus's eyes to take in and it was equally terrifying and electrifying. It was a feeling that wrapped around his heart, warm and staticky in equal measure.

"Why'd you bring me here, Dave?" Klaus eventually asked.

Normally, Dave would have answered right away, noting the little things to do, the privacy, how pretty the woods were, but after the long look from Klaus, he knew those weren't the answers that he was searching for. Dave took a breath and his gaze fell away, down to their entwined hands. He thought about his answer. Klaus and Dave had talked at school during class sometimes, they were casual friends when it was convenient that they were near each other. They didn't spend time together outside of school or plan to see each other at school outside of the classes they shared. Granted, Dave had the world's biggest crush on Klaus, but it didn't change the fact that before tonight, they'd barely even been what you could call friends. To bring Klaus to a place so near and dear to his heart was weird and Dave knew that.

He lifted a shoulder a little in a meek shrug, chest feeling tighter and heavier than it had before. It was a cop-out to deliver his words with his eyes cowardly on their hands instead of speaking to Klaus's face, but Dave worried that if he looked up, the words might dissipate and he wouldn't find the strength the say them again.

"Because I like you. I've liked you for a long time. And because I trust you. And because I don't want this to be a place that I come to alone anymore. I want to share this place with you." He finally said.

There was subtext that wandered beneath his words. This place had been shared once before, and Klaus was the first person Dave felt close enough to to want to share it again. Maybe that was sad, considering Klaus and him weren't close, save for some friendly conversation and flirtation, but it was the truth. His words had betrayed how much more than a casual night of dancing this was in Dave's eyes and the more Dave thought about it, the longer Klaus was quiet, the more he was convinced that perhaps he'd laid too much of himself bare, left too many pieces of himself unguarded and vulnerable on the table. He'd offered Klaus a piece of his heart that he shouldn't have the pressure of deciding whether to keep or not.

"Dave," Klaus spoke, voice more gentle than Dave had ever heard it before, barely above a whisper, "Dave, look at me."

Dave's heart was already hammering as his anxiety about what he'd said spiraled, but he obeyed regardless. He couldn't deny him anything he asked for, especially not when it came in such a soft tone. He brought his eyes back up to meet Klaus's, his heart full-on racing in an uneven sprint. What he saw there was an expression that was somehow both soft —the face of someone who'd been touched by what they heard—and concerned. Dave wasn't sure what to make of it, so he waited with a held breath for Klaus to speak.

Klaus, for the first time seemingly, was at a loss for words. That only made Dave feel more panicky, more like he'd just stuck his stupid foot in quicksand and was sinking fast. It'd been stupid, bringing Klaus out here, telling him how much he meant to him...God, Klaus was probably freaked out. Dave could feel the rise of word vomit in his throat, just about ready to open his mouth and let whatever came out free, probably a few profuse apologies, maybe a joke to try to dispel the tension, a shaky declaration that it was okay if Klaus didn't like him like that, but luckily Klaus finally said something just in time to keep Dave from further embarrassing himself.

"I like you too," Klaus said.

His tone was simple, a statement that after so much thought seemed to come so easily for him. It didn't match his expression though. Klaus still looked concerned and when he spoke again, Dave was already anticipating the 'but', though anticipating it didn't stop his stomach from sinking all the same when it came.

"But...Dave, look, I..." Klaus stammered, dropping his own gaze now. He pulled his hand from Dave's, suddenly restless, and stood up from the slack line.

Dave's stomach dropped and his heart felt like a fist was wrapped around it, squeezing it tight with another wrapped around his throat. His skin prickled along his hairline as the shame of rejection flooded his system. He kept his eyes on Klaus politely, letting him finish what he was going to say, but internally, he was panicking, trying to shut off emotions, trying to repress the urge to shed tears, trying to will the color away from his cheeks.

Klaus paced back and forth the length of the slack line in front of Dave, wringing his hands together. Dave was helpless to do anything but volley his head back and forth to track his path and wait.

"Dave, I'm shit," Klaus finally said, to Dave's surprise.

It certainly hadn't been what he'd expected to hear.

"I smoke and I drink and I sleep around and I'll do just about any drug I can get my hands on and I've got a fucked up family and fucked up problems you can't even begin to understand. I'm failing most of my classes and I'm probably going to drop out next term and I might even run away from home, and just—Dave, you don't want this. You can't want me, you deserve better. A lot better." Klaus said, the words leaving in a rush that sounded as panicked as Dave felt.

Dave's body moved without his asking it to, standing and striding the few paces between them quickly to cup the back of Klaus's head and pull him in. He cradled Klaus's head against his shoulder and wrapped his other arm tight around his waist, shaking his head.

"No, Klaus. None of that matters. That stuff doesn't make you who you are. I like you, no matter what it is you do or what family you come from or how well you do in school," he said, the words leaving him sounding much more adamant and stern than he thought he was capable of after the last minute of inner turmoil, "Breathe. Hey, I'm not asking you to marry me. Just share my little park with me when you need somewhere to get away for awhile. And maybe don't hate me if I kind of have a huge crush on you."

The last part came out a little lighter, like a joke, thought it was honest. Thankfully, it drew a huffed laugh from Klaus against his shoulder. Finally, Klaus's posture relaxed a little and he brought his arms up to wrap tightly around Dave's waist. He nuzzled in closer, pressing his face securely into the soft spot at the front of Dave's shoulder and Dave just gently stroked his fingers through his hair. It was a long minute or two before Klaus spoke.

"Yeah, okay. But only because I have a really huge crush on you too. This doesn't mean we're dating," Klaus clarified, lifting his head to level Dave with a serious look, "But it's not because I don't like you enough. I just...I just don't like me enough. I'd make a really terrible boyfriend."

Dave wanted to argue, say that he'd be over the moon to have Klaus as a boyfriend in any capacity at all, but he wasn't really in a position to ask Klaus to be his boyfriend anyway. He was closeted, so dating wasn't really on the table anyway, not in the way that Klaus deserved. He felt lighter for having gotten all of that off his chest, but he knew that it didn't exactly change anything between them, not in any serious way. Perhaps they'd flirt more now, maybe even arrange to hang out here and there, maybe Dave would keep finding places and reasons to kiss him, but for now, that was all they could really be.

"Okay," He nodded, "I'm still in the closet. I'm hardly datable either. So we both have our baggage. Friends then?"

Klaus wrinkled his nose at the idea of them being just friends, "As long as I can still kiss you when we're alone. Friends with benefits?" He countered.

Dave's face heated at the implication, at what 'benefits' usually entailed and swallowed thickly, breathing picking up, which Klaus apparently found amusing because he laughed.

"Oh, sweet Davey. Don't have an aneurysm. Just kissing benefits for now. Maybe we'll work our way up to some heavy petting or dry-humping one day," He teased with a wink.

Dave let out a breath, but still blushed at even the thought of just that much. Still, he nodded. Yes, yes, absolutely yes, he wanted that with Klaus and more. He was grateful that Klaus seemed willing to take things slow though. Dave wanted everything with him, of course he did, but he was easily overwhelmed and this was all pretty new to him. "Friends with benefits, then," he agreed, wrinkling his own nose at how that sounded.

It sounded so crass and casual, like it was only about the so-called benefits when really Dave may have been just a little bit head-over-heels in love with Klaus. But for now, it's what they could have. It was a stepping stone for them, both clearly carrying a lot on their shoulders, and if they needed a transition period before things got any more serious, Dave could absolutely live with that. He leaned in and gently nudged his nose against Klaus, drawing a smile from him before he tilted his head and closed the distance for a soft kiss, one that had Klaus melting against him with a sigh. When they parted, they rested their foreheads together.

"I should probably get you home soon," Dave said softly, brushing his thumb over Klaus's jawline.

Klaus pouted, which made Dave smile a little purely because it was cute and because it meant Klaus didn't want to leave him, but he nodded, brushing his fingertips through the hair at the back of Dave's neck.

"Yeah, okay. Thank you, Davey."

#klave #klave fic #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #david katz #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #klaus x dave #dave x klaus #TUA #tua fic

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

Text

🐾Bite Me! Part (2/3)🐾

Distraught couldn’t even begin to describe what Izuku was feeling. It had been two weeks since his encounter with Ochako in the woods and he felt like he was losing his mind. She had bolted from him when she had seen the wound on his arm, and even though Izuku had tried to run after her, her canine form had made her much faster than him even with his quirk activated, and he had lost her to the shadows of the forest.

Izuku paced his living room, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of ways to contact her. He had no idea where she was, she hadn’t gone back to her house and she had managed to stay out of reach from the police officers who searched for her. Worry clawed at his heart and shredded his soul, the dark circles under his eyes and the sunken look on his face telling of his lack of sleep.

“Listen, Midoriya, I know you’re worried but there isn’t much more we can do,” Iida said softly from where he was sitting on the couch, his hands folded in his lap with his elbows braced on his knees.

“Yeah, I’ve had my agency sweep the entire city,” Todoroki said.

“And I’ve had every waterway patrolled,” Tsu said from where she was perched on the armrest of the couch, having arrived at Izuku’s home the minute she had heard what happened.

Izuku paused in his pacing and glanced at his friends. While most of Class 1-A had moved to different parts of the world to accomplish their own dreams, they had all remained close due to the strong bond they had developed during their years at U.A. Now, Izuku was more relieved than ever that he had remained close with his friends, knowing that he would not have made it through any of this without their help.

“I know,” Izuku muttered, resuming his pacing. “I’m just so anxious. I don’t know where she is or if she’s safe. You know how people in this society treat werewolves, I just got her back after thinking she had been shredded to pieces, I can’t lose her again.”

The room fell silent as the heroes assembled contemplated their predicament. All of them were beyond concerned for Ochako’s wellbeing, but none of them knew what to do anymore. None of them could distinctly remember her being good at stealth missions, but now it seemed like she was never going to be found, the days waning as the authorities already began to lose hope in their search.

“How is your bite wound doing, Midoriya?” Momo asked suddenly from her place beside Shouto, trying to distract from the somber mood.

Izuku lifted his arm and glared at the healing wound, irrationally angry at it for chasing away the love of his life.

“It’s fine. The doctors treated it and even told me I had come in soon enough for them to perform the necessary procedure to sterilize the venom and keep it from spreading any further into my body. They said I will be completely normal despite the bite.”

“So you won’t turn into a werewolf?” Tsu piped up curiously.

“Yeah, they said there is a small window of opportunity where they can stop the infection before it reaches the brain. It was a surprisingly quick procedure and since I'm already young and healthy, the venom took a lot longer to spread. I’m not a werewolf,” Izuku said.

“Well, that’s some good news!” Iida said with exaggerated enthusiasm, also trying to think of something other than the loss of their friend.

“Yeah, I guess,” Izuku mumbled, beginning to pace once more, scratching the hair at the base of his neck nervously. “I don’t care about the wound itself though, I just wish she hadn’t seen it.”

The others nodded and softly murmured their agreement. The conversation tapered off into silence once more. There was nothing more they could do. Absolutely nothing. Not until even the tiniest bit of information on her whereabouts showed up, they had done absolutely everything they could. Sighing, Izuku stopped pacing and turned to face his friends, who looked at him expectantly.

“Thank you all for being here, but it’s obvious we can’t do anything until the police turn up with information on her location so you guys can go home and get some rest, it’s getting late.”

“Are you sure, Midoriya, ribbit?” Tsu asked softly.

“Yeah, we want to be here for you as much as possible,” Iida said.

“Thank you, all of you, but you guys have done enough, please, go get some rest and try to relax a little until we get some more details, alright?” Izuku said.

His friends protested a little more but eventually gave in and left, patting his shoulders and encasing him in hugs before they left. Izuku shut the door behind them with a soft click and let out a shuddering sigh, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes for the fifth time that afternoon as the silence filled his home. He turned away from the door and shuffled over to his bed, collapsing on the comforter and slapping his arm over his eyes, trying to drift off into sleep. He knew it was hopeless to try to rest, but it gave him something to focus on, something to distract himself with.

A wry smile crept onto his face as he thought about what Ochako would tell him in this situation, her voice filling his head as he imagined her hovering over him like a mother hen, bashing him for not taking proper care of himself.

He turned on his side and crawled up to his pillow, trying to get more comfortable. When sleep continued to evade him, he opened his eyes and scanned the wall and his bedside table until they landed on the photo that was propped up against his lamp. It was an old photo, a photo of him, and Ochako from when they still went to U.A. Ochako had used her quirk on herself to make herself lighter and then sat on Izuku’s shoulders, allowing him to carry her around as he spun them and laughed. The picture had been sneakily taken by some of the girls in the dorm’s main living space, capturing a moment of pure joy with Izuku looking up at Ochako with a beaming smile while his adorable girlfriend laughed uncontrollably from his shoulders.

The sight of the photo brought more tears to Izuku’s eyes but he forced himself to focus on the happiness of the memory itself. Sure, it was harder than hell being left in the dark on Ochako’s location and safety, but she was alive. She was alive and mostly uninjured from what Izuku could tell despite the vivid image of her blood stained paws. She was alive and that was what mattered. She was strong, stronger than anyone else he knew, she would make it through this. Closing his eyes he allowed the memories of that happy moment in the dorms to wash over him and gently drag him to sleep, a deep determination settling in his heart. Ochako would make it. If anyone could deal with this situation and come out of it stronger than before, it would be his lover.

_____________________

Ochako leaned against the pillows on the old couch, a book propped up on her knees as she flipped through the pages, only half paying attention. Usually, she loved to read, but today there was so much on her mind she could barely take in more than a few words before she realized she had gone an entire page without understanding a single word. She grunted in frustration as she restarted a paragraph over again for the eighth time, her mind once again trailing off to images of Izuku and his warm smile. Her heart thundered in her chest and she scolded herself for her reactions to thoughts of him, her traitorous heart and body ignoring her brain’s constant pleas to forget about him.

Ochako was so busy trying to rein in her emotions she did not notice the figure leaning against the arch of the doorway, their arms crossed as they watched the girl.

“How long are you going to keep running from yourself?” The figure said after a moment, causing Ochako to jump off the couch in surprise and whirl around to look at him, a small dagger suddenly appearing in her hand seemingly out of nowhere.

“God damn it, Gouhin, you can’t scare me like that!” Ochako said, folding the small dagger into itself and slipping it back into her shorts pocket.

The figure, a tall burly man with graying hair, a goatee, and yellow eyes pushed off the wall and approached the gravity hero, his eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Ochako glanced away, digging the toe of her shoe into the wooden flooring, her teeth lightly biting at her bottom lip.

“I don’t know, until I can forgive myself, I guess? I don’t know, Gouhin, why should I forgive myself in the first place? I could’ve killed my best friends.”

Gouhin moved to sit on the couch, his eyes never leaving Ochako as he analyzed her. He had met the young werewolf years ago, when her parents had been too afraid of her, even with the medicine, to keep her at home. He was a well-known werewolf, one who had learned to control himself more than any other, even without his medicine. He was known for taking in young werewolf pups and training them to control their hunger, to care for them, and accept them when society turned them away. He had instantly liked the sweet yet feisty little girl, finding himself impressed with her determination to become a hero despite her condition.

From what he knew, very very few werewolves ever became heroes, and when they did, they usually became sidekicks or mere assistants, used for sniffing out drug deals and locating hard to find criminals but never being able to do any actual fighting no matter what their quirk was. Ochako hadn’t wanted to conform to what society had in mind for her future and had happily accepted his training and guidance, her mind dead set on reaching her goal no matter what.

She had eventually learned enough to no longer need him anymore, but they had stayed in touch, ready for him to intervene if anything major happened. The pair had become very close, Gouhin becoming something of a guardian for her, oftentimes finding her when she ventured into the woods in her wolf form so that neither of them would be so lonely. He had been so proud when she had been accepted into U.A., and she had done an amazing job keeping her condition in check while attending the prestigious hero school, to the point where Gouhin idly wondered if she had finally surpassed him.

And then two weeks ago happened. Gouhin had offered to let Ochako stay at his small underground home in the middle of the woods until the heat died down, but he was tired of seeing his protege sitting around, depressed and lonely. He knew she had a wonderful boyfriend, had actually seen them together once or twice when neither of them had known he was there, watching as they ate together at a little cafe or sitting on the edge of his seat as he watched them fight villains together on his television. He had certainly missed the bubbly girl when she had stopped coming around to his house every weekend but this was not what he wanted. He missed seeing her bright smiles and the spark in her eye more than he missed having her around all the time. He wanted her to live her life but knew she would never do that while she thought of herself as a heartless monster.

“But you didn’t kill them,” Gouhin said genuinely. “You managed to control yourself, to force yourself away from your instincts, and protect your friends from what should have been instant death. You should be proud of yourself, Ochako.”

“Proud of myself?” Ochako spat bitterly, her eyes darkening as she remembered her encounter with her friends that fateful night in the woods. “I bit my boyfriend, Gouhin! I’ve completely ruined him! His whole life is going to be in shambles because of me! You know just as well as I do what we have to deal with every damn day and now I’ve just turned one of the most important people in my life into a monster! He is such a well-loved hero, what do you think people will think of him now when they find out what I’ve done to him? He might lose his ranking, hell, he might even have to back down as a pro-hero! Yeah, sure, I should be really fucking proud of myself.”

“You know that won’t happen, Ochako.”

“Really? Why should I not think something like that would happen? You’ve seen the werewolves who have been exposed and forced to back away from society. My dad almost lost his job and he isn’t even a werewolf! Just being connected to me almost forced my family to the streets, feeding on rats and living in a box. We aren’t humans according to this society, we are wild animals, beasts who deserve to be shunned and hunted. Look me in the eye and tell me honestly that Izuku won’t be ridiculed for what he has become?”

Gouhin sighed. He hated seeing Ochako like this. She was so young, with such a long, bright future ahead of her, and here she was, forced to consider how to survive in a world where nobody wanted her. In a world where she was hated and the odds were immediately stacked against her. He hated it because he knew that without this condition, she could be anything. She was the strongest young woman he knew, and it tore him apart to see her fighting off tears because she hated herself to the point of crippling despair. Her dejected, shaky sigh brought his attention back up to her face where he saw a few tears gleaming on her cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, maybe he will be able to get treatment for the bite. I hope he had enough sense to call an ambulance right after it happened, or one of his friends did, you know about the window of opportunity where they can sterilize the spread of the venom. I don’t want to get my hopes up but maybe he can still have a normal life,” Ochako said, looking up to meet Gouhin’s gentle gaze. “Will you tell me how he’s doing when you hear about it? I can only get so much from the television, and I don’t want anything to be overdramatized by the media.”

“Why are you asking me when you can just go up and check on him yourself?” Gouhin asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms again.

“Are you kidding? There’s no way he’ll want anything to do with me ever again! I can’t go near him, I just need to stay away, erase myself from his life. He will find someone who can genuinely be with him, someone who can give him what he deserves and help lift him up in life rather than drag him down. He will find a proper woman to call his wife someday. But he can’t do that if I’m lurking in the shadows, hovering over his life, I need to leave as soon as they stop searching for me, move to a place where he won’t be haunted by me anymore. A place where I can never hurt him ever again.”

Gouhin had to resist letting his jaw drop when she finished speaking, his eyes widening in surprise.

“That’s what you really think? You think the police are searching for you because you bit his arm? You think he hates you? Are you an idiot!?” Gouhin asks in shock, watching as Ochako’s eyes narrow on his in annoyance at the insults. “Listen, Ochako, because I’m only going to say this once. That poor, dutiful boyfriend of yours was the one that called the police, and not because he hated you, but because he is drowning in worry for you. I’ve seen the reports all over the city, watched that half and half hero send out his entire agency to find you. All of the waterways are being patrolled by the frog hero. All of them are looking for you because they miss you and they love you.”

Ochako knew Gouhin would never lie to her but she still found it hard to believe; that her friends would not be running for the hills after the friend they had had for years lied to them the entire time she knew them and then attacked them in the dead of night in the woods.

“And Izuku, man, I saw him the other day when he was out looking for you. That boy is so distraught over your disappearance. He still loves you more than anything, never stopped loving you. You may have bitten him, but he seemed physically healthy, and you did not kill him. You didn’t kill any of your friends. You are the first werewolf I have ever known to break free of your instincts without the use of your medication in the middle of a night with a full moon. You fought yourself to the point of breaking and you made it through. You are not a monster. You never were,” Gouhin continued, not giving her time to put herself down.

Ochako stared at her mentor, his yellow eyes piercing into her, reflecting only the truth in his sharp gaze. Ochako swallowed, hardly daring to believe it. Gouhin stood up from the couch and made his way over to his protege, resting his large, worn hands on her shoulders comfortingly.

“You were able to force yourself from your instincts because you love them, all of them more than you can express with words. But that Izuku Midoriya, he’s a special one. He’s your mate. Don’t push him or your true self away anymore. I understand why you think being separated from him would be best for him but I don’t want to see either of you suffer and I know in my heart that that boy would never forget you, no matter how hard he tries. He will always keep an eye out for you because he loves you in a way that is unique to you and him. Now stop fooling around and go get your man!” Gouhin said, pushing a giggling Ochako out his door.

Ochako grabbed onto his door handle and was about to leave when she turned around to face her guardian and mentor. She smiled brightly at him for the first time in weeks, her eyes finally starting to get that sparkle that he loved so much back in them.

“Thank you, Gouhin, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s really no problem, kiddo,” Gouhin replied, tugging her into a warm embrace.

“Kiddo? I am an adult now you know, have been for a while.”

“I know, you grown-ass adult woman, but you will always be a little kiddo to me.”

Ochako laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“Goodbye Gouhin.”

“Goodbye Ochako.”

______________________

Another week had passed and Izuku was borderline hysterical. He was trying his best to keep it together, but he hadn’t even had a glimpse of her since that time in the woods and now he was doubting whether she was even still in Japan. He had no idea where she even would’ve gone to, her parents had been contacted and they had told him in concerned high-pitched tones that they had not seen her in months due to their work keeping them away from where Ochako was in the city. Their answer had made Izuku’s blood run cold, and he was getting close to just walking out into the woods to find another werewolf who might be able to help him even though he knew how stupid and dangerous that was.

Izuku groaned as he laid on his bed despite the bright sunshine that was pouring into his room through the slanted blinds. He had no energy to go anywhere or do anything. He had already been searching so much over the past few weeks that the police had asked him to take a break for his own health.

Rubbing his face with both hands, Izuku suppressed the urge to throw-up. He had managed to calm himself down every time he had panic attacks, reminding himself that she was alive, just missing. But as the weeks stretched longer and longer, he was starting to feel utterly hopeless. He was just about to drift off into a depressed, hazy form of light sleep when the click of his door being opened very quietly made his eyes fly open. Sitting up, Izuku quickly reached for his bedside table and rummaged around in the drawer until he had pulled out the small pocket knife he stored in there for emergencies.

Standing slowly, Izuku made his way to his bedroom door and leaned against the wall, his hand wrapped firmly around the door handle. He had no idea what to expect, if it was one of his friends they either would’ve knocked or announced themselves upon entry. He had given them all spare keys to his home but had told them to tell him when they were coming over to avoid just this situation.

Suddenly, his bedroom door knob rotated slowly in his hand and he backed away as the door swung open. Quickly leaping around the corner, Izuku prepared to confront the intruder when he stopped dead, Ochako’s shocked face filling his vision. He noticed her eyes dart down to the dagger in his hand nervously, and he managed to knock himself out of his reverie just long enough to have the sense to toss the knife to the floor hastily.

His whole body began to shake. Ochako was here. She was alive, and breathing and standing right in front of him. She looked normal, uninjured, maybe a little starved but otherwise healthy. Her eyes darted to the floor sheepishly and she shifted from foot to foot as he continued to gawk at her.

“H-Hey Izu-”

Ochako was cut off as Izuku suddenly launched himself at her, encircling her body, lifting her into his arms and spinning her in a circle, all while smiling and sobbing profusely. He held her so tightly against him, she was struggling to breathe, but she didn’t care as she hugged him back with equal force, nuzzling her face into his neck.

It felt so good to have her against him once more, her warmth soaking into his touch-starved skin, her breath fanning out across his neck and making his pulse beat so fast he was afraid it would short-circuit. Placing her back down on the ground, he grabbed her face in both of his hands and pulled her to him, sealing her lips with his in a searing kiss. Ochako squeaked with surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back with equal passion, causing Izuku to groan.

When the two broke apart again they were panting and Izuku had to swipe his tongue along his swollen lips to sever the small string of saliva that still connected them. His chest was heaving and his heart was pounding against his sternum to the point where it was almost painful. He gently placed his hand on her chest, just over her heart, and closed his eyes at the feeling. Her heartbeat calmed him down and lifted the fog that had been settled over him ever since their breakup. He felt truly alive for the first time in weeks and he felt his spirit being revived as his eyes roved all over his girlfriend, checking to make sure she was alright and that this wasn’t some sick dream of his.

“H-How? Where? W-When? W-What?” Izuku desperately tried and failed to ask all of the questions that were crowding his brain. Ochako smiled and giggled breathlessly, sending a jolt of something electric down Izuku’s spine at the sound.

“Urm, if you sit on the bed with me, I’ll explain everything,” Ochako said nervously. Izuku nodded without a word and gently led her to his bed, pulling her down to sit on the end right beside him, his eyes trained on her face as she took a deep breath and began to answer all of his questions.

Izuku merely listened as Ochako told him about her run-in with a werewolf in the woods as a young child, her struggle through her childhood as the kids around her didn’t understand what was wrong but only knew that their parents hated the small gravity girl and alienated her. She told him about Gouhin, and how he helped her when her parents got overwhelmed. She told him about U.A., and how Aizawa and Nedzu knew but had not told anyone under specific requests from her and her parents. She explained how much of a better life she had at U.A., where she actually made friends and nobody was afraid of her. She even sheepishly explained how she almost rejected his confession to her because she was afraid he would hate her when he found out about her condition.

Izuku’s eyes widened but he did not interrupt, allowing her to continue to tell her story. She explained how much she grew to love him even more than she already did, how she was selfish and wanted him all for herself but knew it was for the best if they were apart, not wanting to inhibit his progress in life with her murderous physical condition. She apologized for dragging out their relationship for so long only to break it off, she just didn’t know how to handle the feelings coursing inside her.

Ochako told him about how she felt so guilty and distraught at the way she had treated him that she had completely forgotten to take her pills, only remembering when her transformation ripped through her at the last second. But it had been too late at that point. She explained how she went on a rampage, werewolves hate being in small spaces, and how the carnage found in her room was the result, her paws getting bloodied up from the amount of ripping and shattering she did. Ochako even lifted up her hands to let Izuku see where her hands had been bandaged from all of the cuts and gashes she carried on her once soft skin.

She finally ended her tale by telling him about her stay with Gouhin and how he was the one who convinced her to come back. When she finished, she bowed her head and allowed the silence to wash over her, her fingers fiddling with one another in her lap as she waited for his response. She didn’t know how he was going to react. He had every right to be furious with her after everything she put him through. Would he slap her? Would he tell her to get out and never come back? Would he hug her and never let go? No matter what he did, Ochako decided that she would let him do it, she deserved whatever came to her.

Ochako let out a small gasp when Izuku suddenly wrapped his arms around her and dragged her into his lap, cradling her form against him as he nuzzled her neck and pressed soft kisses up and down the column of her throat.

“You idiot,” Izuku whispered in between kisses, both his tears and his tongue wetting the soft skin of her neck. “You should’ve just told me, you wrestled with this all by yourself for so long when all you had to do was come to me. I meant what I said in the forest, you being a werewolf doesn’t change that, I love you. I always have and I always will. I just wish you had told me this so we could’ve dealt with it together before I had to suffer being without you.”

Ochako choked out a sob as she embraced him back, her fingers clenching onto his shoulder blades and her face pressing into his shoulder.

“I love you too, so much, Izuku, I’m so sorry I lied to you, about everything,” Ochako said, her voice muffled slightly by his shirt.

Izuku leaned back and kissed her again, his heart beating so furiously in his chest he idly wondered if it was going to burst from his chest and fly away. He felt a small sense of pride when her lips followed his for a second longer when he parted from her, the tiniest look of disappointment riding across her face.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku stood and made his way over to the sock drawer, thanking whatever gods there were that he hadn’t thrown it away. Digging around for a few moments, Izuku pulled out the little velvet box and covered it entirely with his palm, obscuring it from view.

“Izuku?” Ochako asked softly.

Izuku felt light and airy when she said his name but he shook his head slightly, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Moving back around so he was sitting in front of his girlfriend, Izuku settled down so he was sitting on both knees, trying not to arouse suspicion.

“Ochako Uraraka, ever since we met you have been by my side. We have grown together, fought together, loved together, learned together, and survived together. I love you so much my heart aches. You are the most gorgeous, amazing, talented, intelligent woman I’ve ever met. And I want you to understand that I will always feel this way about you, I will always love you, no matter what you look like or who you are. You have made my life so much better, I’ve never been so happy before. I love you so damn much, and we WILL get through this together, no matter what, okay?”

Ochako blushed at his impassioned speech as more tears cascaded down her cheeks, reaching out to grasp his hand. Izuku took her hand in his for a moment, rubbing his thumb over her bandages comfortingly before pulling away to Ochako’s confusion.

Smiling like an idiot, Izuku moved from sitting on both knees to raising one leg up so he was propped up on one knee.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to do this somewhere more romantic than this, but I know now that this is the time, if I wait any longer, I’m going to explode,” Izuku said just as Ochako raised her hands to cover her mouth. There was no way, was there?

Gathering his courage, Izuku pulled the little box around from where he had been hiding it behind his back, using his free hand to gently paw open the lid to reveal the glimmering infinite ring.

“No matter what happens, no matter the danger, no matter what life throws at us, I want to do it by your side. Please, Ochako Uraraka, will you marry me?”

Ochako was stunned with shock and pure unbridled joy. She couldn’t believe it, her fantastic boyfriend of four whole amazing years was sitting here proposing to her. She never would have guessed that the quirky little boy she had saved from tripping outside of U.A. before the entrance exam would be her future husband, but here he was, holding himself out to her. He knew what she was, he knew what she dealt with every day, and yet he was willing to take the risk of loving her.

“Urm, now might be a good time to say something,” Izuku said cheekily, the corner of his lips twitching with a nervous yet playful smile, his eyes sliding to the side anxiously.

Ochako snapped out of it and flung herself into his arms, knocking him to the ground with a loud squeal.

“I’m sorry, ‘Zuku, I was just a bit surprised that’s all. Yes, yes, I’ll marry you!” Ochako beamed at him, her bright, dazzling smile taking his breath away.

Izuku leaned up and claimed her lips in a heated kiss that she returned with enthusiasm, leaning on his elbows and bringing her body even closer to his.

He was still unsure about their future, and they still had a lot to talk about, but for now, he was happy to finally hold his future wife in his arms once more. Nothing else mattered. No matter what happened, he was never letting her go ever again. Werewolf or not, she was his life and nothing was going to change that. Ever.

#mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha #izuku x uraraka #ochako x izuku #izuku midoriya #urakara ochako #bnha werewolves #werewolf ochako #izuocha-fanfic #IzuOcha #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia

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jakattax · 4 years

Text

I was a lucky kid growing up, my family were largely bohemian and didn’t really pressure me at all to fall into a particular crowd or scene. For the most part I was left to decide my own hobbies and interests, which I feel as a working class northerner is an oddity. I was largely uninterested with anything considered the norm, I found the perception of normality to be terribly boring. I lived in my own mind, fuelled by my still present wild and colourful imagination, and nothing fuelled my imagination more than the idea of magic. Films like the ‘Wizard of Oz’ and ‘Excalibur’ were Bible to me, any media with witches, wizards and sorcerers utterly enamoured thing. I believe this fundamental obsession revolves around the concept of power, that these mystical men and women could achieve the impossible and bend reality by possessing a power that no hero-knight or any other could possess. The wizard or witch was a solitary creature, usually ostracised or eccentric, both qualities I possessed as a child. And so it was a common pastime for me to find the best stick that would act as my staff and to jump around the woods pretending to be Gandalf. I knew that magic could only ever exist in my own imagination and I stuck to this falsehood for many years. After a trip to the goth haven of Whitby with my grandparents, I realised that magic was very much real and was not limited to book, screen or my own closed mind. I bought a hazel wand (inscribed with ‘Blessed Be’ in futhark) from a Wicca supply shop and my first book of magic. This book of shadows was my prized object, with only the media portrayal of magic at my disposal I knew that every enchanter possessed their own book of spells, while mine wasn’t bound in human skin and written in odd runes, it was magic, real magic. Another very vivid memory was that a bought a handsome besom from the same shop, a gorgeous birch broomstick wrapped in colour silk, and so on our trip to the north York moors I placed the broom between my legs and jumped up and down over the heather. Alas I did not fly. Only in my mind.

Wicca was truly my gateway into my magical studies, even though I was very young I had absolute conviction that magic was very much real and tangible, I even recall having a particular fondness for a rain spell which seemed to work without fail. Naturally my new obsession with real magic just pushed me further from the grain of normality, thank God. Yet the older I got I started to become disenchanted. Like all teenagers I went through a period of abandoning childhood fantasies to focus on my image or popularity. Who I socialised with and how I looked over-rided any past passions. It is something I feel remarkably ashamed over, yet adolescence is a period in life in which one wears many masks for the sake of an easy time, even though I was bullied none the less for my bookish and overall weak disposition. But no-one could know I use to dress up in a pointy hat and make it rain. I killed that part of my childhood. This abandonment of magic continued until I was 16.

I was now in college and was the worst sycophant to a particular friend who I followed blindly. He was the coolest kid in college, a Casanova, I was discovering my own sexuality and realised too that I was deeply in love with him. Again I was sacrificing my core personality, but not for long. I was a theatre kid, and bloody good at it too, our first year assessment was based on the performance of a classical monologue. Know I don’t know exactly how I decided on it, or how I even knew of it, but I settled on Marlowe’s ‘Doctor Faustus’ to perform. I was a committed and serious young actor, finally in s subject that I cared for and excelled in so I conducted research into how i wanted to stage the piece. In my mind I wanted the stage littered in books and scraps of paper all bearing occult symbols, yet I didn’t know any. I didn’t want to cheapen the performance by having blank scraps of paper, they needed to be Faustus’ magical and alchemical work, so I used the library computer to find some.

And the gates opened.

Like a child again I was reading about magic, real magic again but this time I found a new mindset. In my research looking up Occult symbols to litter my set with, I came across a name, a name steeped in controversy to this day, the wickedest man in the world; Aleister Crowley. Reading up on Crowley and MacGregor Mathers brought me to a new and dangerous form of magic, the magic of the ceremonial magician. While indeed Wiccans and witches take their art and practise very seriously, there was something about the strict Methodology and science like nature of ceremonial magic that appealed to me more. Changing the weather was great and all but demon conjuration? Intricate magic circles and glyphs? Spirit evocation? Yes please, this was the magic that I wanted. And so I purchased my first Grimoire of ceremonial magic, the Ars Goetia.

This was a book I carried with pride, it was a conversation starter, I was the kid who studied demons. My image had changed after my then best friend moved to university, gone was the preppy and popular false Jack, now was the time for a brooding, dark clothed Jack who read Shelley, Byron and books of demon summoning in his spare time. To be frank it’s not a phase I’ve quite broken yet either.

As enamoured as I was by the Ars Goetia, I was no fool, I knew that in terms of practicality it was something I could not attempt, yet. The magic was complex, the tools seemed impossible to acquire and so I sat on my grand schemes of being a conjured per excellence, yet the flames in my mind were raging.

Three years later I moved to Nottingham for my university education, wonderful city. for the first time in my life I was with strangers who had no preconceived notions about me. I could wear a new mask. Yet I chose the hard path, I was at university so one should act as a university don should, I bought tweed suits from charity shops, wore a bow tie and started to smoke a pipe. I found rebellion by not being normal, fuck normality, the new Jack would never bow down to popularity again. I call my university years some of the darkest of my life, not only because of the daily cocktails of alcohol, drugs and severe bouts of depression but because these were the years in which I honed my craft as a goete.

I had the good fortune of renting flats with basements and because my flatmates were dull football types brainwashed by heteronormative coding, they were naturally scared of it and didn’t go down there. And as horribly cliched and Hollywood as it is, I began conjuring demons in the basement. Even though I had been studying the Goetia for a few years now, I still lacked pretty much everything needed, other than my own conviction. I used chalk for my circle and triangle of art, candles for mood lighting and some sticks of incense and began conversing to the shadows. The crazy thing is, the shadows spoke back. I knew that I had the crossed a threshold in which there was no return, while I had achieved magic with fairly simple effects, now I had truly pierced the veil and was openly seeing, speaking and listening to demons. The glass of reality had cracked, I was in a new world in which magic was the only truth. I had demon spirits perform many many tasks for me, some failed, some excelled. I tried to hone in my skills, realise mistakes and amend them. Then I started branching out, with my knowledge increasing I came into contact with more books, more new information and magic to discover; the Verum, the Cyprian texts, Agrippa, Abra-Melin etc. Etc.

Yet this was closeted. While I was unashamedly eccentric, I had too much against me as a gay man and an oddity. I suffered extreme bullying again and thanks to my depression made a suicide attempt, if anyone knew I was in the basement ordering demons to attack those who wronged me, it would be fatal to me. Or so I thought. The layman perceives magic as nonsense, Harry Potter glitter Magic that simply isn’t real and if you believe in it you either have too many cats or are just delusional. They do not understand that magic and only magic is the highest form of science there is, the microscope or telescope can see hidden things that the eye cannot yet so can a scrying ball. For all the wonders that science can perform and demonstrate, it cannot lift the eyelids on the falsehoods of reality, only through magic can we truly see between the lines and realise that the mundane world is shrouded in mysteries that only magic can answer. And so due to this fear of being stigmatised, I kept my magic a secret.

For the best part of a decade I studied and practised Ceremonial magic in private. Whenever my parents or housemates we’re out I’d grab my tools and begin my work. My library was growing, my collection of magical tools too, I was growing and flowering into a proficient 21st century Magus. Then two years ago I decided fuck it. I was tired of keeping a fundamental part of my spiritual beliefs and occult practises silent and so I outed myself as a ceremonial magician. Not to much fanfare however, everyone seemed largely indifferent, probably just another one of jack’s eccentricities. But no, magic is no hobby, no idle pastime or frivolity to me, magic is in my Veins and every breath, it is my true calling in life to study, explore and understand my place in this world through the Occult sciences. I am a magician who can charm you or tear you to pieces just as easily, I live in a demimonde of illusion, I achieve the impossible.

When you sit before the scrying glass and see a spirit looking into your eyes, you must reject all notions of a normal reality and accept wholeheartedly that magic is real.

#going mad again #dunno why i wrote this #i was told to #24/7 scrying is frying my brain #fuck it #its like my life story #someone play a tiny violin #i need sleep #bye #i saw weird shit tonight #im writing a book of prophecies

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piercedflora · 5 years

Text

Broken

As Hanzo looked down to see small rivers of blood pooling over his fingers, dripping into the fabric of his ceremonial Kyudo-gi, a single phrase echoed through his mind.

You cannot be an Omega, Shimada's are not Omegas.

A blight upon their family, his father had said. Test after test was performed. Hanzo was poked and prodded, his blood tested again and again and again, multiple doctors where contacted and insulted in the same manner of accused incompetence- and still the results remained the same. Hanzo Shimada was the first, and only, Omega first-born in the history of the Shimada family.

Hanzo had vivid memories of his mother attempting to reason with their father, begging him to let a 15 year old Hanzo have at least his first Heat- that the chance of complications later in life were tenfold if he used suppressants before that- and Hanzo would never forget the despair on her face as he staunchly refused. He would never forget the way his father looked at him with contempt and disgust, or the pity in the doctor's eyes as Hanzo quietly took his first dose.

He will be an Alpha in mind and body. The distraction of a Heat would only weaken him.

An archaic viewpoint by current standards, but so were most of the traditions in their family. They were the Shimada clan, tradition was how they maintained their strength- according to his father- and Hanzo had always believed him. He was their weakest link.

You will have to work harder than any Shimada before you. You have a natural disadvantage, one that you will have to strive to overcome in every aspect of your life. No one must ever know you are an Omega. You must always hold your head high and never miss your medication, it is what will help you maintain your strength-

-and maintain the Shimada image. Only Alphas, no Omegas- no traditional sign of weakness.

So he trained. What little social life Hanzo could’ve had was spent studying and honing his skills to the point of perfection, and at every turn he sought any sign of his father's approval. He was fluent in multiple languages, adept in multiple subjects including military tactics and politics, and he was an unbeatable archer. Never once did he see his father so much as smile.

Genji was the only person Hanzo could call a friend, and any acquaintances he'd made through his father's facilitated forms of socialization were nothing more than that. None of them would ever know what Hanzo was. None of them knew the weight he bore on his shoulders, or what it meant to be the family disgrace. None of them knew he was just that.

Take the test Hanzo. How long will you wait to claim your place as head of the clan?

How do I know I am ready?

When will you be ready, if not today? You have overcome your nature, is now not the time?

And so the ceremony began with little more than a few phone calls and a gathering of 5 old men in a private room. Hanzo knelt before them and a shallow tea cup was passed between each one. A sip was taken by each before it was passed to Hanzo, who bowed his head and accepted their declaration.

A battle with a warrior of their choice. And to be expected- a battle to the death. A sip and the glass was placed on the ground before him, and they all rose to move to the designated room where their chosen warrior waited for Hanzo's arrival. Hanzo steeled himself. This was his moment, the culmination of his entire life and all of the grooming his father had so generously dedicated to Hanzo's life (despite what Genji had to say about it) and it was his chance to prove to his father that he was worthy of their family name. He would be the Alpha his father wanted to lead their clan, biology be damned.

If only that was how it happened.

-------------------------------

Genji watched from the rafters as the battle unfolded. Perched carefully in the shadow of one of the massive posts that supported the roof of the arena, he maintained the perfect spot to watch the ebb and flow of battle and still remain undetected. He barely made it inside before the doors were sealed shut, slipping easily from shadow to shadow until he found his current hiding spot. While it was a risk to intrude on such a private affair, Genji couldn't miss one of the most important moments of Hanzo's life.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to unfold.

He believed in his brother, whether or not his brother truly believed in himself, and he knew his brother had the drive and dedication to take on any challenge he set his mind to. It was something Genji had admired in him since they were children, but something about this tradition- about his father's treatment of Hanzo being an Omega- every part of it felt wrong. They were all aware of the dangers Hanzo's long-term use of suppressants presented, and not a soul outside of the immediate family and their doctor knew about Hanzo's 'condition' – as his father called it. It was their family's most guarded secret, and the longer it was kept, the more Genji worried his brother would seriously harm himself in his desire for acceptance.

No matter the disdain or pain their father put him through, Hanzo followed his order and instructions diligently and without fault. He was so desperate to prove himself and gain their father's approval that he was blind to the fact that he would never receive it- no matter how hard he tried. Genji could see the manipulation, the grooming clear as day, but no matter how many times he tried to convince Hanzo to let it go- to live his own life and learn how to accept himself- his brother's stubborn pride only steeled his foolish determination further.

I promise to prove you both wrong. He'd say with that hardened expression, the one Genji was sure could overcome any obstacle, and he prayed to the gods and their ancestors to give Hanzo the strength to do just that.

You don’t have to! Genji would protest, but even that would only earn him a small smile, one that said Hanzo believed such an idea was part of being the naive younger brother.

Genji wanted his brother to be right. He wanted those moments of kindness that Hanzo displayed- those times where he went so far as to shield Genji from their father's ire, or covered for a member of their clan who had made a mistake only to take the brunt of the blame, he wanted those to mean something. He wanted Hanzo to know they meant something, despite whatever their father had to say. He wanted so desperately to see the shock on their father's face when Hanzo succeeded- to dare his father to turn his nose up at the fervent dedication of his oldest son. He wanted their father to see Hanzo as person of value and worth- a source of strength in the ancient line of their family, but only for Hanzo's sake. Genji already knew Hanzo was all of these things, and the harder he fought, the harder it became for Genji to resist the urge to shout out to Hanzo in encouragement.

The battle happened in flashes, one moment the two warriors met, blade and bow clashed in an epic clang, and sparks flew for a moment before the two men disappeared. Arrows flew, narrowly missing their target before they were retrieved and the two met once again. Back and forth they danced, skilled fighters engaged in a waves requiring the utmost concentration. The slightest mistake and it could mean the end, and for a moment it seemed Hanzo had the upper hand. An arrow pierced flesh and tore through the dark fabric of the warriors upper thigh. He faltered in his step, but instead of a second arrow to claim the warrior's life, Hanzo appeared before him and brought his bow down upon the warrior with a fierce cry. A final clang rang through the arena, and the warrior was on his knees, struggling to block the sheer force of Hanzo's blow.

The five heads of the clan watched in silence, not a one of them moving to so much as shiver during the battle.

Genji knew Hanzo could have killed the man with a second arrow a move before, and he knew it was no accident that he hadn't. Hanzo saw no reason to take a life without necessity, even in a traditional battle to the death. This warrior's life would be a waste if he were to lose it now.

But just as the battle seemed to be over, it wasn't. Hanzo blinked as the warrior said something Genji couldn't hear, and the next second Hanzo's bow was knocked to the side. The sound of a blade piercing flesh broke the unnerving silence, and a grunt from Hanzo followed as he stared into the burning eyes of the warrior. He gasped as the sword was pulled from his hip in one smooth movement, forcing Hanzo to his knees as pain made his head spin. He had.... lost.

The warrior stood and faced their father, his back to Hanzo with his blade extended to his side.

Genji watched in horror, his breath caught in his throat, as his father stared at the two for what felt like an eternity. Hanzo didn't look up. He steadied his gaze on a point in the floor a few feet in front of him.

He had lost.

Warm blood pooled over the place where his fingers futilely pressed over the font portion of the wound, the blade had pierced him all the way through, and he didn't look at his father. He knew what would come next. His father was not a merciful leader, and there were no second chances with a test like this. He had lost, and he had never felt the ferocity and disappointment in his father's gaze more vividly than in this moment. He was a disgrace. An unworthy Omega who was better off dead in his father's eyes. Hanzo didn't need to look at his father to see it. He'd seen it so many times before, and today he'd proved his father right. His shoulders sank, and it was then Genji knew Hanzo had given up.

The strongest man Genji had ever met and come to admire, had give up.

Their father nodded and turned his face away, just as a cloud of smoke erupted around Hanzo. It wasn't until Genji lept from the rafters and tucked Hanzo's arm over his shoulder that he realized just how hard fought the battle had been. Hanzo's Kyudo-gi was sliced through with superficial cuts that marked various parts of his skin. A few deeper ones left blood dripping down his arms and chest, and one across his cheek would need stitches. Hanzo was breathless and his gaze drifted in and out of focus, so as Genji stood up, and blocked a swipe of a blade that attempted to find it's mark where Hanzo had knelt a moment before with his own, he held most of his brother's weight with ease.

“Why...” Hanzo asked as Genji blocked another swipe and stumbled back, and with a quick leap they were in the rafters and quickly making their escape from one to the next. He didn't answer, and instead felt a wave of pride for thinking ahead and wearing a completely black outfit that only exposed his eyes, protecting his identity from anyone who would accuse him of interfering. He didn't have much time to act, so after making sure they weren't being followed or pursued by anyone- especially the warrior- Genji fled to the only place he knew he could hide Hanzo safely.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home-” Genji begged Jesse once he reached Jesse's front door and pounded violently on it with the hand not curled into Hanzo's side to support him. As they'd traveled Hanzo grew heavier and heavier, and Genji had to struggle not to lose himself in his emotions. He had to be strong for Hanzo, he had to save his brother.

“JESSE! JESSE PLEASE OPEN UP!!!”

“What have you done?” was all Hanzo could ask as his vision blurred. He was bleeding out, he knew that. The blood was now caking and sticking to his fingers as new blood flowed over it and soaked further down his leg. He wondered how Genji knew. He wondered what Genji was trying to do. He was dying. He might as well already be dead.

#likeafadedtattoo #abo verse #abo!verse #broken

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inmyownlittlecorner5 · 4 years

Text

Moonlight Chapter 11: Rumination

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 11/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Ten+

Chapter Twelve+ >>

------------------------------

Trigger warning: Brief allusion to miscarriage.

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Twilight was falling as Miranda slowly approached the beautiful Scottish Deerhound. It was loitering near an ancient ring of stones scratching itself and, as yet, unconcerned about its human observer. The air was cold but, as there was no wind, the temperature was not yet so unpleasant as to make outdoor tracking uncomfortable. Miranda started to ease her wand out of her pocket and the dog started, skittering a few feet and halting by another stone. She froze and waited for the dog to settle again, then she pulled a baked pig’s ear out of another pocket. The dog sniffed the air and began warily circling back towards the temptation.

Miranda squatted down and held out the treat, motionless except for her breathing. Little by little the dog came closer to her, until finally it snapped up the pig’s ear and bounded a few feet away from her. It stared at her for a moment and then plopped down on the ground to chew at the morsel. When it was fully engaged in gnawing and ripping the pig’s ear, Miranda managed to draw her wand. She waved it at the beast, lips pursed in concentration as she attempted to force the possible animagus into human form. Nothing happened. She sat back on her heels and sighed. She knew she was wasting her time and it irked her. She felt as though she had tracked every large black dog in England, Scotland, and Wales. Now she was on the Isle of Man and she was planning to cover Ireland next. She had no idea how long Albus Dumbledore expected her to keep up this charade, and she was starting to lose her patience with the game. She was also growing concerned about the state of Lucius Malfoy’s patience. He had decided to be amused by her performance at his Manor rather than admit that she had outwitted him. She suspected from their most recent meeting that his amusement was gradually turning into anger. He’d made a few passing remarks about how numerous and exposed her family was. She knew that America was only a port-key away and that he had the power and the resources to do whatever he wanted to them. True, the Rose clan was more dangerous than your average No-Maj family, but she knew that if Malfoy decided to take them out, there wouldn’t be much they could do to stop him. She couldn’t be everywhere at once. She had thought of asking Aaron for help putting some sort of MACUSA detail on them, but she trusted MACUSA to be about as competent as the Ministry of Magic. She also knew her family too well to imagine that they would be any good at being baby-sat. She would have to play this game out to the end. The dog finished its treat and padded over to her, hoping for more. She held our her hand and it sniffed her, cautiously at first, but soon it decided that she was a friend. She scratched it behind its ears and then fished out another pig’s ear for it. This time it sat down at her feet, happy to have company during its chew. She obligingly continued to pet the animal, and tried unsuccessfully to keep her thoughts form turning yet again to Severus Snape. He was on her mind constantly these days and it exasperated her how much she missed him. He was a spy. He was an ass. He was the most irritating man of the face of the earth and, if he were suddenly to appear and crook his finger at her, she would fall back into his bed, no questions asked. She missed his hands. She missed his body. She missed his dry humor and their verbal sparring. She missed his rare smiles and the way he studied her when he thought she wasn’t looking. She didn’t completely understand why he had ended things so abruptly at Prospero’s. She found it hard to believe that he had only just become aware of the risks of their association, but maybe that was the case. Or maybe he was just afraid that she would blow his cover. She knew him well enough by now to understand that he hated not being in control of everything. And she knew herself well enough to understand that she wasn’t very good at taking orders or being predictable. At the end of the day, maybe that was the real issue. She was probably too wild for him. She had thought there was some part of him aching for freedom but, even if that were the case, he was firmly resolved to see out his mission to the end. If she had been more to his taste, maybe he would have been willing to put up with the risk. As it stood, whatever fleeting pleasure he had had with her simply wasn’t worth the cost. It was a bitter pill, and she was doing her best to swallow it. She gave the dog a final pat and stepped away to Apparate back to the mainland. She was due to have Thanksgiving dinner with the Lees and she was looking forward to Aaron’s complaining about the difficulties of procuring proper supplies in England. They had insisted she come by frequently after that night at the club, supposedly to ‘cheer Rachel up.’ She knew it was more about them trying to cheer her up, but she was happy to have the company all the same. It was good to have a pair of familiar faces in this sea of strangers. Severus’s memory would fade in time. She just needed time.

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“Do you know how hard it was to find canned pumpkin?” Aaron said with a laugh as he distributed pie and rye-laced coffee after dinner. The three of them sat companionably around the farmhouse table in Lees’ airy kitchen. Aaron and Miranda had stuffed themselves with turkey, cornbread, sweet potatoes with bacon, cranberries, and rice. “I had to go to five No-Maj grocery stores. I finally found a can in the back of a Waitrose and I had to elbow three No-Maj grannies to get it,” he added. “I’m glad to know you’re not above elbowing old women in your pursuit of comestibles, Aaron,” Miranda quipped. “Aw, they were armed. I was black and blue from their canes and umbrellas by the time I got home.” “He was,” Rachel agreed, smiling wanly. She had only managed to eat a few bites of rice at dinner. She declined the pie and nibbled at a piece of toffee from the tin Miranda had brought. She had dark circles under her black eyes and her face looked rather sallow. “He earned that can, no doubt about it.” Miranda smiled at Rachel but she was a bit worried about her friend. She hadn’t seemed herself these last few weeks. “Are you feeling any better?” Miranda asked. “I know this gloomy English weather can get anybody down.” Rachel exchanged a look with Aaron and he said slowly, “Well, about that. We’ve got something to tell you, Miranda.” “Yes?” Miranda sincerely hoped this wasn’t going to be bad news. Aaron’s face became very serious. “We’re going to have a baby.” “What? Really! Congratulations!” Miranda cried. “To be fair, I’m going to have the baby,” Rachel clarified. “Aaron’s going to try not to faint during the process.” “I’m so happy for you! When are you due?” “In the spring.” “And, is everything going…” Miranda’s voice trailed off. She was well aware that the Lees had been having a rocky time trying to start their family. “Everything is going fine,” Rachel said firmly. “I’m exhausted and can barely stand the sight of food.” “That’s wonderful! I’m ecstatic for both of you. I can’t think of two people more suited to being parents than you both.” “And we were hoping you’d agree to be godmother,” Aaron said. “Of course! It would be an honor. I’ll even go to confession first.” “I would expect no less,” Aaron said mock-seriously. “And there’s one other favor we’d like to ask.” “More than looking after your child’s immortal soul? Do tell.” “There’s this party I have to go to for work at the end of December. I know that’s a long way off, but it’s a highfalutin pure-blood shindig and I have to answer the invitation now. Do you think you could behave long enough to be my date? Rachel wants to take it easy gestating this time and you know she hates this sort of thing.” Aaron took his wife’s hand and smiled kindly at her. “Are you sure I’ll fit in?” Miranda asked, her eyes twinkling wickedly. “You know how to behave when you choose to,” Rachel said. “And I really would appreciate it. I’m in bed by eight o’clock most nights and this thing doesn’t even start until nine.” “You know I’d do anything for the two of you. When and where?” “It’s on the twenty-eighth of December,” Aaron said. “We can meet here at say eight-thirty, tuck Rachel into bed, and head over to Malfoy Manor together.” Miranda dropped her fork. “Did you say Malfoy Manor?” “Yes. It’ll be about as exciting as watching grass grow, but the house is something else. We can snoop and see how many priceless works of art we can admire while everyone else gets sloshed.” Miranda swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Sounds divine. I’ll be there with bells on.” *****

Severus grated the Snakewood meticulously, careful not to waste a speck. Several cauldrons bubbled next to him, each filled with the base for a healing potion. He’d completed the anti-venom and had turned his thoughts to something more global. He had read through the book of American magic that Miranda had given him in September, and he was incorporating some of the ideas he had gleaned into his repertoire. He began adding specks of Snakewood to the first cauldron, recording the amount and the number of times he stirred on the scroll next to him. Fortunately, he was quick enough to duck as the potion exploded out of the cauldron, shooting into the air like a geyser. “Evanesco,” he muttered, vanishing the mess and making a note on the scroll. He moved to the next cauldron and a memory came to him, unbidden. …….“Nice one, Sev” Lily was giggling as his potion exploded. They were in their fourth year, and Professor Slughorn had allowed them extra time in the potions room for their own projects. Severus couldn’t remember what he had been working on that day, but he vividly recalled the shade of the green scarf holding back Lily’s hair and the way she had smelled of cinnamon and pomegranate juice. “It will work next time,” he had muttered as she vanished the mess……. How he hated this room. It had not been so unbearable when he had first started teaching, flush with the importance of being the Dark Lord’s spy and creating a brave new world for wizards. He had enjoyed terrifying his students and playing at creating a new world order. After Lily’s murder, there had been a long period during which he could go no where at Hogwarts, especially the potions room, without seeing her before him. Eventually, that had faded with regards to most of the school—but here—-she was always here. It had been particularly awful since Harry Potter and his friends had come to Hogwarts. There was Ron Weasley with his ridiculous red hair—as though Severus had not had enough of teaching Weasleys to last several lifetimes. Hermione Granger—the muggle-born witch brighter by far than any of the other students and bold like Lily had been. And, of course, there was Harry Potter himself—strutting about the school like a second James Potter, just as arrogant, just as unteachable. Except, once in a while, when Harry would be focusing intently on his work, and his eyes would gleam like Lily’s had when she was working. It was in those moments that Severus hated Harry Potter the most; when the child unwittingly crucified him with Lily's eyes. Severus finished adding the Snakewood, stirring, and taking his notes. It was Saturday evening and he would come back in the morning to take the first cauldron off the flames. He packed away his supplies and went to his rooms to sleep. His rooms had been the one place at Hogwarts where he was not constantly assaulted by memories of his youth. They had been the one place in the world that he considered his, the one place that was private and safe. Now, however, they were filled with memories of Miranda. It had been more than a month since he’d left her at Prospero’s. He knew it had been the the sane thing to do, but sometimes it was almost impossible to resist the urge to find her and drag her back to his bed. He told himself that she had probably returned to America and would soon forget him. It had been a mad fling, and it was best that it were over. The logic of this reasoning did not stop him from hoping that she would suddenly appear. Every time he entered his rooms he half expected to find her sitting in his armchair. He could almost see her, looking up from her book and smiling at him; saying something that would make him want to smile and kiss her. Frequently, when he woke from sleeping, he would be sure that she was next to him in the bed. He would keep his eyes closed, dreading to open them and see that he was alone. But eventually he always did open them, and he always was alone. Soon it would be the Christmas Holidays. Usually he looked forward to this break from most of the students and many of the teachers. He could stay at Hogwarts, work on his own projects, and not have to return to Spinner’s End. This year he was dreading them. They stretched before him as ominously as the summer had, full of idle time and memories. Why was this his life? Why had he never been anywhere but Cokeworth and Hogwarts and London? He had never even been to the Continent. He sat down in his armchair, intending to read until he nodded off. He couldn’t seem to focus on his book and found himself staring into the fire, brooding about Lily and Miranda. He had loved Lily so much that losing her to James had felt like dying. He knew, however, that he had lost her before that. She had been horrified by his interest in the Dark Arts and that, combined with his own brutish behavior, had driven her away. He still loved her so much that it took his breath away. That was why he continued on this path that Albus had set for him. If he kept Lily’s child alive, if he helped to vanquish the Dark Lord, then—-someday—-Lily would forgive him. Thinking of Lily always caused him a comfortably familiar feeling of pain and guilt. He had carried it so long that not feeling it was unnerving. Thinking of Miranda though, that tended to make him dizzy. She had burst into his life and he had felt off kilter since the moment he had met her. She was like a force of nature and he had been swept up in her madness. Even his fevered adolescent sexual fantasies about Lily had paled in comparison to the carnal pleasure he and Miranda had shared. He sometimes thought that Miranda understood him better than Lily had or at least accepted him. She saw his dark side and did not seem to be bothered by it. Many of the qualities that had driven Lily away from him seemed to draw Miranda to him. Part of him envied Miranda her freedom; her ability to accept the uncertain without anxiety or complaint. She seemed completely unconcerned for her own safety, but not because she was unaware of the risks that she faced. She was intoxicating, but he did not want to bear the guilt for her death if, or when, it came. Sometimes he would let his thoughts roam, creating fantasies of a more perfect life. A life where he had avoided all of the many mistakes he had made. In his younger days, he would imagine that Lily had forgiven him his callous words, and that he had won her long before she'd married James, or he had made the desperate choice to join the Dark Lord's circle. Since he had met Miranda, the fantasy had mutated into one where he had never heard that blasted prophesy in the first place. Lily had her perfect little family and they had all grudgingly reconciled. Severus dreamed of having met Miranda the first time she had been in England. She would have swept him up in her madness again and, because this was a dream, the Dark Lord would be dead and buried. Severus felt that Lily and Miranda would have liked each other. And Miranda would have hated James with him, and he would have quit teaching and joined her in her ridiculous bounty hunting business, and….. Severus shook his head to stop his idiotic flight of imagination. His life was what it was. Nothing would change that. Dreaming was a waste of time, and Severus hated waste

------------------------------------------

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Ten+

Chapter Twelve+ >>

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #severus snape #snape #snape fanfiction #snape x oc #severus snape fanfiction #american magic #ilvermorny #thanksgiving #pie #espionage #spying #breakups #romance #adventure #second wizarding war

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birdie02 · 5 years

Photo

Skating prodigy Andrei Kutovoi dreams of the Olympics

You might have noticed him during the Junior Grand Prix event in Courchevel, this August.

We sure did.

The posture, the qualities of his skating, the musicality. You just couldn’t take your eyes off Russia’s Andrei Kutovoi.

He finished the event – his single JGP assignment this season and his first ever international competition – with a bronze medal, and left skating fans in wonder, in amazement: who is this incredibly gifted teenager, debuting on the World stage? Andrei was still 13 this summer.

Well, he’ll tell you that himself, in an interview done in St. Petersburg, his home town, by our very own Natasha Ponarina. Based in St. Petersburg as well, and working as a figure skating photographer, Natasha knew Andrei already – she had been following him for a couple of seasons, eyes glued, lens glued to the talent that he was, practicing at Yubileyny Sports Palace and, since 2017, at Tamara Moskvina’s figure skating sport club.

Cousin of Elizaveta Nugumanova, another skating wunderkind (Elizaveta is three years older), Andrei tried skating as well, when he was 5. And, as everyone expected, he liked it that much that he literally started running on the ice – he’d tell you with a smile.

…and you’ll notice the smile, but also the seriousness, in the numerous photos accompanying this interview.

Work of Ms. Ponarina, the tens of pictures recompose Andrei’s journey and career so far – and we gladly share them with you. Adding, you’ll see, some heartwarming pictures from the family’s archive.

Ladies and gentlemen, there you have him: 14-year-old Andrei Kutovoi, Olympic hopeful.

Natasha Ponarina: Andrei, let’s start from the very beginning – when did you start skating? How old were you?

Andrei Kutovoi: I was almost 5 when I put the skates on for the first time.

And how did that happen? Were you watching skating on TV, were you following your cousin, Elizaveta Nugumanova? What made you decide that you wanted to skate?

By that time, Liza was already training, and they decided to bring me to the rink as well, just to try it, maybe I would like it. I wasn’t following skating then, so it wasn’t my decision.

Who brought you to the rink, remember?

It was my grandmother who brought me to the rink for the first time.

What do you remember from your first day on skates? Did you like it right from the very start?

I think the first day at the rink was exciting and interesting, because it was something new for me. My mom says my first steps on the ice weren’t really steps, but it was running. I was running on ice, so to speak [smiling].

And judging by the fact that we kept going to the rink, I think I really liked it.

Where did you learn to skate and who was your coach back then?

My first coach was Irma Georgievna Bukhartseva, we trained on a small rink of Yubileyny Sports Palace.

And on the practice rink of Yubileyny Palace, Alexei Mishin’s group trained, which I joined later – and it was where I met my current coach, Veronika Anatolyevna Daineko.

When you first started skating was there a skater you wanted to be like? What about now – do you have a skater you admire?

When I first started skating I didn’t know any skaters and I didn’t watch figure skating.

It changed over time, and now I’m watching closely what’s going on in the skating world. I try not to miss any event of junior and senior level.

I admire the Japanese skater Yuzuru Hanyu, his skating skills, musicality, the way he feels every single movement. The ice and Yuzuru are like a single entity, that’s his element. Nathan Chen is also very strong technically, he can do all the quads – it’s the highest level.

“MY FAVORITE JUMP IS THE LUTZ”

Tell us, what do you like to do in your free time? You tried drawing, maybe something else?

There isn’t that much free time, but if there is some outside my studying, then I like recreational activities. Recently, my mother and I have been to the Norwegian ropes course park “Orekh”, that was a lot of fun, all that climbing, I really liked it, and I’ll definitely come back there.

I like to draw, as you mentioned, and I also like dancing and photography.

How does your weekly schedule look like? One has to train a lot to get the result that you have. Do you have time for school?

I train six days a week and I have one day off. Each training day includes two ice practices, two warm-ups, cool-down, stretching, and, on different days, I have specialized physical training, acting classes, choreography, jazz classes.

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time for school, I get to go there infrequently, but I’m being home-schooled, with the help of my mom and online lessons.

You’re 14 now – tell us, which medal/result/competition you are most proud of so far? [Andrei turned 14 on October 4, 2019]

Some of the most important ones are the first places in Championships of Russia (Younger Age) in 2016 and 2017.

Which is your most vivid memory from your career so far? Looking back, what comes to your mind first?

The strongest memory so far is the first Junior Grand Prix in Courchevel [August 2019]. It was my first international competition.

I was also really impressed by a show in Germany I took part a while ago [Media Markt Eisgala – Concert on Ice 2016]. We were touring different cities on a bus, I was surrounded by, and performed with, amazing famous skaters, aerial and ice acrobats, and there were also famous singers and music bands in the show. It was such a memorable experience.

Was it hard to learn the triple Axel? Which jump do you like the most – and the least?

Yeah, triple Axel is an ultra-C jump, like quads, so you can’t equate it to the triples. My favorite jump is the Lutz, and I don’t have jumps that I don’t like.

Can you tell us about your programs this season, how would you describe them? Judging by your inspired performances, you really like them, you are so in character, one-on-one with the music…

Thank you, I’m really glad to hear it.

Most of my SP is to “Fly Me to the Moon”, it’s a love theme. At first, I’m waiting for my beloved, counting the hours, then I see her and I hold out my hand, inviting here to fly with me to the moon, to immerse into the music of the stars. And, in the end, I confess my love to her.

At the end of the program there is a part for the step sequence, and I just dance to the music “I Won’t Dance”, the modern version of it.

My FS is to the music from “Les Misérables”. I represent the character from the times of French Revolution, Jean Valjean, but many people see me as Gavroche, which you can say is also right, since both these characters represent the best ideas of “Les Misérables”: independence, devotion, purity, compassion.

I really like these programs and I’m very grateful for them to Nikita Mikhailov.

You started you first season on junior Grand Prix level with a bronze medal in France. What are you plans and goals for this season, what do you want to achieve?

My plans include two triple Axels and a quad in a program and, of course, to skate clean. My team and I are working towards that.

What is your biggest dream as an athlete, a dream that you can share with the readers? What do you wish for as a skater?

[smiling] My biggest dream? The Olympic Games.

Please check out the rest of Inside Skating’s photo story featuring Andrei! His family has provided many photos from him starting out skating at five and his skating journey 💕

#figure skating #interviews #andrei kutovoi

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magicquilll · 5 years

Text

Unstable

Request: can you please make a FredxReader where he falls in love with a muggle girl and always appears at her house to look for her but when he gets caught he always deletes her memories until he finally decide to talk to her with prompts 70, 84 and 105?

70. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

84. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?”

105. “They say I’m in here because I’m crazy, I think I’m crazy because I’m in here.”

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Words: 1.528

Warnings: Mentions of abuse.

The crisp morning air hit her, sweeping her hair onto her face. She took a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs as she took a sit on the roughly made swing tied very tightly on one of the branches of the tree that sat on the yard of that old house.

Nothing seemed unusual to her eyes, the swing swang as it always did, the sun was high up in the sky which was tainted with a beautiful blue hue in her opinion, the flowers had grown and bloomed, and everything seemed normal, excluding one thing, but that went by unnoticed to Y/N.

The abnormal thing in question was, in fact, a person; Fred Weasley stood a few feet away from the girl, leaned on a nearby tree, trying to hide in its shadow. For many, watching someone for a long period of time, especially if you didn't know that someone, was considered strange, suspicious even; but Fred was just walking by, or that's what he told himself.

He had decided that morning to take a walk, explore the land he had grown on. Learning that was a region with many hills; he passed the Lovegood's house, the dirigible plums were growing strong, he observed. It didn't take him too long, though, to find a simple cottage at the foot of a hill north The Burrow.

With big windows and baby blue walls, it seemed like a beautiful place to visit. That was the moment he noticed her. She had only just left the house through the back door and now, she played on the swing, hair trailing behind her, her bare feet reaching up to the sky. The force of the wind caused her sleeves to move and that's when Fred noticed the purple bruises around her wrists. It was odd and didn't seem to fit in with the air that emanated from the place. What could have caused it?

He leaned closer to take a better look, taking a step forward. What he didn't see until it was too late, was the twig laying on the ground where he decided to plant his foot. The thing was, he wasn't close to her, but he wasn't far enough. The snapping made the girl turn her head in his direction, bringing the swing to a hasty halt and quickly getting up.

She promptly wrapped her arms around herself, defensively. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

He didn't answer at first, his mouth opening and closing trying to unsuccessfully form words, too shocked for being caught sneaking.

If his twin had been there, maybe they could have come up with an actual presentable excuse, but he was not, and Fred's quick wit seemed to disappear. In a fit of panic, he raised his wand and aimed at the girl, an act that would come to pass more times than he would've liked.

“Obliviate.”

Now, any witch or wizard with a high enough schooling would know that the memory spell wasn’t one to be performed lightly, nor should it be cast without a level headed. However, Fred chose to listen to his nerves instead of his sensible brain.

And that was when things started spiraling into a bigger mess he could have ever predicted.

Every day for the rest of summer break, Fred returned to the cottage at the foot of the hill, and every day since the first he somehow managed to get caught and, in an act of despair, erased the girl's memories.

Returning to Hogwarts forced the end of the vicious cycle, and for that Fred was thankful. He didn’t know how long he could keep that up, and the guilt kept on accumulating until it was all his mind came back to, reminding him how he must have been the most coward Gryffindor he ever knew about.

No, he thought. I won’t go back there anymore.

So, of course, when summer break rolled around, the first thing he found himself doing was regretting his terrible choices as he stood a few feet away from the blue house.

Except this time was different, when he got closer to the backyard, he didn’t see her on the swing, nor was she picking flowers or laying on the grass observing the sky as she often did. This time, she was curled into a ball leaning against the side of the tree that faced away from the house. Fred didn’t know when it had happened, because he certainly didn’t order his legs to move, but he soon found himself standing in front of the girl, a fence the only thing keeping them apart. And like so many times before, her eyes drifted upwards to face him and she immediately tried wiping away the tears with her sleeves, but more just kept on coming.

Fred stood there, he hadn’t thought this through, he thought at all, and even though he didn’t know what he could possibly say to make her feel better, watching her cry wasn’t an option. He looked around in search of anything that could help him, to his left was a patch of flowers and he quickly leaned down to pick one up.

The fence wasn’t too high so when he offered her the plant she could reach it from the ground. When she did though, it was hesitantly. Y/N studied the flower on her hand, twirling it around and when she looked up again, Fred showed her the best smile he could manage and at that, she let out a soft laugh.

Relief flooded through him, it was much better to hear her laugh than watch her cry.

+++

As the weeks flew by, Fred kept returning to the cottage and each time was better than the last. He could finally say that he and Y/N were friends and with that certainty, he decided that maybe she would be willing to answer the question that had been plaguing his mind since day one.

“What are those bruises on your wrists?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice them.” Her eyes trained forward, fixed on some particular point on the sky.

“Kinda hard not to. I won’t push you to tell me if you don’t want to, don’t worry.” He stretched his legs in front of him, they were currently sitting against the tree.

“It’s okay, I made peace with it, I suppose.” She let out to a sigh. “My parents brought me here several years ago in hopes that it would fix me, somehow. Since I was a child I’ve had this really vivid dreams and they always end up with me hurting myself or someone else while I’m asleep.”

“After a while, they started leaking out, I would see things when I'm awake and lash out. So every night they tie me to the bed and keep me away from anything I could break during the day, a temporary fix until they find a solution.” A snort came from her side and Fred, who was already frowning trying to understand how this was supposed to fix anything, looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “The funny part is, they say I’m here because I’m crazy. I think I’m crazy because I’m in here.”

“Why don’t you run away? This is ridiculous.” He shook his head as if the simple thought of Y/N having fits of uncontrolled anger couldn't be processed by his brain, she always seemed fine when he was around.

“Where would I even go?”

He paused for a while. “Come stay with me.”

"What?”

“Yeah, my brother and I are planning on having our own place and opening a joke shop, we’ll drop school sometime after the break and when we do, you could come with us.”

“I don’t know.” Now it was her turn to frown, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to get away, she just didn’t want to stand in their way.

“It can’t be worse than staying, and we could try and find a way to stop your nightmares, something that doesn't involve tying you up.” But that statement was met with silence.

+++

When he came by the next morning she was already on the swing, but she wasn’t moving. Her back was hunched over, cradling her hands on her lap.

“I know is hard not to miss me, and I’m flattered, I really am, but you don’t have to be so sad about it, love.” He teased leaning onto the fence.

“Oh please, don’t be so full of yourself.” A smile gracing her face.

“How could I not? Have you looked at me?” She shook her head in response, meanwhile, he jumped over, strolling his way to her side. “What’s on your mind?”

Y/N glanced at him and paused, studying him as if she was going to find the answer on his face.

“Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?”

There was a slight upwards tug on the corners of his lips as he crossed his arms. “Is that a yes to my proposal?”

“Maybe.”

“Then pack your bags.” He said with renewed joy on his voice. “We’re going on a runaway mission.”

#hp imagine #hp drabble #hp oneshot #harry potter drabble #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley drabble #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley #fred imagine #fred oneshot #fred drabble #fred x reader #hp #harry potter #**

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brishu · 5 years

Text

Almost Everyone

My daughters were introduced to the music of the Backstreet Boys by camp counselors, so their only context for hearing some of their bigger hits (and they have an astonishing number of very big hits) was the enthusiasm of people about 10 years older than them. No anti-boyband snark, no snobbery that looks askance at performers who don’t play instruments. They began asking for specific songs to be added to their music players, and even requested “As Long As You Love Me” at my dearest friend’s daughter’s Bat Mitzvah party. To them, the Backstreet Boys were as much a part of the pop canon as Elvis, only still out there performing.

Their response to the BSB’s seemed to be purely musical. It’s possible that they got high on secondhand boyband fumes, since their counselors’ enthusiasm was surely fueled by the gangbusters marketing campaign designed to make millions of kids fall in love with AJ, Brian, Nick, Howie and Kevin, which is probably even harder to pull off than it sounds. But as much as I’d like to, I can’t discount the quality of the music either. And if I’m shocked that five cute boys who first performed together in 1993 just hung another Number 1 album on the Billboard charts (which apparently also still exist), maybe it’s my shock that should be shocking. I also envied the girls their ready embrace of songs they liked without subjecting them to the battery of artistic litmus tests their sonically dyspeptic father does.

The psychotherapeutic industry seems built upon the distinction between gentle and brutal. If you make the same, relatively harmless mistake repeatedly, steps toward correction are fine, but ease up on the internal machete. If you are too prone to lying to maintain valuable relationships or hold down a job, stop treating your dishonesty like fine china, you goddamn schlemiel. OK, I’m not a psychological expert but one of the things I’ve been working on in therapy is retaining a consistent striving for improvement while loosening an attachment to self-flagellation. So, occasional desire to make my children happy aside, was it a well-earned moment of transcendence or a mere boot to my own aesthetics that led me to sneak off to the Barclays Center to buy a trio of Backstreet Boys tickets while the girls were in Hebrew school?

I didn’t tell them about the tickets for several months, but ultimately I worried that surprising them on the day of the concert would pressure them to evince unnatural levels of appreciation for their loving father’s amazing gesture, so about two weeks before the show, I gave them a heads up.

Another chronic difficulty I have is ordering food from people whose first language is not English. I don’t think it makes me Steve King to cling to the generalization that they never take me seriously when I say I want it spicy. So on the day of the concert I ordered Thai food and asked them to make it “extra, extra, extra spicy please.” In retrospect that was at least one “extra” too many. But by the time we had dinner before the show, I forgot about lunch and slathered everything I ate with hot sauce, which I believe contributed to my need of a bathroom that undermined my plan to arrive at the Barclays Center by 7:30 so we could get through the security line before the show started at 8.

I had looked up the setlists from Chicago and Detroit and noted that they opened the show with a song called “Everyone”, which I thought was the one where they’re like “Everybaaaah-day! Rock your baaaah-day!”, which in my self-conferred Masters in Backstreetology seemed like the only appropriate opener so I really, really didn’t want the girls to miss it, which brought on a sustained castigation of why I prioritized capsaicin over keeping promises I’d silently (and inaccurately) made to my children.

We got into the arena at about 8:12 and, hearing noise emanating from the stage, rushed up several flights of stairs to our seats. That’s when we learned that there was an opening act named Baylee Littrell (it wasn’t until the next morning that I learned he was Brian Littrell’s 16 year-old son). What we caught of his set assuaged whatever guilt I felt about what we missed, but I did appreciate that he played with actual bass, guitar and drums (plus keyboards, horns and back-up vocals that could not be seen onstage). We looked him up on Spotify to see how many plays his songs had gotten and determined that the one with more than 300,000 would be the closer. Do you know how many great bands would harm the elderly for 30,000 plays??? Fruit & Flowers only have two songs over 20k. Look ‘em up, they rule. Anyway, we were right. It was a song called Boxes and apparently the girl Baylee loves checks off all 22 of them.

I have shadowy memories of watching the Backstreet Boys’ debut on Saturday Night Live with this perfectly synced dance involving chairs that they may or may not have stacked at one point during their number. At the time I was appalled by them, but proud of myself for being sophisticated enough to label their performance Fosse-esque. Harboring the incorrect assumptions that “Everyone” was the song I thought it was, and that their act had not evolved in the 20 years since I saw them on SNL, I tried to share in the excitement of the folks around me. Our neighbors were a very attractive young man and woman who kept apologizing when they passed us to get to the aisle. I tried not to eavesdrop but I did hear the young man extol his therapist to his friend (somehow it was clear they weren’t a couple). Just before the show started the young woman asked if I was the fan bringing my kids along or vice versa. I said it was mainly the kids but I was stoked too. She said that she and her friend had caught the band in Vegas and it was so amazing that they had to go again in Brooklyn and don’t mind her when she sang along to every lyric, even the new ones. Our conversation ended abruptly when the lights went down and she joined the collective “WHOO!” volleying stageward.

As though in response, the stage started to open with almost unbearable slowness, suspense mounting as aperture expanded to maw, and I realized that I am unable to experience a reveal like that without hearkening back to one of the earliest and most vivid aural memories I have- the hinges creaking at the beginning of the Monster Mash. On angled video screens, band members appeared, one by one, in slow motion. The way they fingered their hat brim or rolled their shoulders made me laugh very hard. My neighbor to my left nodded approvingly, the kids to my right briefly emancipated themselves. Finally the tectonic shifting ended and there, on a platform so receded that I thought they should be called the Backstage Boys, were five guys who had been crushing it for 26 fucking years.

My neighbor said, “They can’t really dance anymore but they can still sing!”

“Everyone” is not the song I thought it was.

The first concert our kids ever attended was Los Lobos in Prospect Park. Our younger daughter was 10 months old and happy anywhere that had popsicles. Our older daughter was nearly 3 and for months she would ask to hear more Los Lobos. I don’t think she recognized anything from the concert, she just wanted to be reminded of the special experience of live, loud music and how happy it made the people around her (including her dad), and our living room stereo system was the best portal for that. Los Lobos’ most popular non-fucking-La Bamba-song is Cancion del Mariachi, coming in at 15,898,494 plays. Nothing else cracks a million.

This was their first time seeing a bigtime pop act, and though they only knew about 5 of the 30 songs performed, they were rapt for the entire show. Except when the band talked to the audience, which they did in a sort of schematic where every member got his five-minute lovefest with the audience while the other guys changed outfits. They were all some variation on how much love they felt in the room (it was pretty palpable), how much gratitude they felt to the fans for the longevity of their career, and how pleased they were to be Number 1 yet again. Oh and that music was important too. I don’t mean to demean their commitment to music. All five of them can sing quite well, they harmonize together beautifully (even though I’m pretty sure vocal enhancements were employed without remorse) and you can’t sing the same song over and over again for more than 20 years without losing it unless the song is half-decent. But without getting too grumpy about it, I neither could nor wanted to suppress a flare of anger that so many serious musicians are poor while these cutie pies are all multi-millionaires. I don’t know what the ultimate size of the music market is, and it was hardly revelatory to note that these guys’ share was not in line with the quality of their musical production, but I felt like I had to take my own tiny stand, to stand up for musicians less slickly managed, artists less adept at navigating A&R social hierarchies, bands whose universality is not predicated on cultural touchstones manufactured by MTV. Obviously, nobody buys a concert ticket in the hope that they’ll get scolded at the show. Another thing people try to avoid at concerts is taking a dump. And so more acutely than ever, my self-righteousness was supplanted by regret for that extra extra.

I thought about asking my neighbors to watch the kids, and even to make the joke “And don’t let them vape!” but opted not to because I didn’t want to suggest that I had a problem with their vaping (such is my social density that I tuned out all of their apologia and was so grateful for their friendliness that I just wanted them to like me, never realizing that maybe, just maybe they might really want me to like them too). So I just told the kids to stay put and made my way to the can. And I daresay BSB fans are as nice in private as they are out in the arena. I base this conjecture on my bathroom experience where, unlike most concerts I attend, I was able to tend to my digestive needs without feeling like I had to contort myself to avoid somebody else’s excrement. It shouldn’t be surprising that more banal music begets more polite behavior, hell even Plato cautioned against exposing certain segments of society to more inflammatory musical scales. But maybe all that bougie antisepticism is just proof of how truly un-punk Mr. Stand-Taker really is.

Returned to the seats where the kids looked sleepy. I told them they shouldn’t feel any pressure to stay for the whole show, which looked like it was going to end after 11. They looked at me like I’d just told them I was donating their college fund to Trump 2020.

One of them said, “Just because we’re not dancing and screaming doesn’t mean we aren’t having an amazing time, Dad.”

OK then.

So that song I got confused about is actually called “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back).” I pretended like I knew that the whole time and was pretty sure I got away with it. Then one of the girls said, “I thought you said they opened with this song.” And with no remorse whatsoever I said, “Yeah, that was in Florida.” Why I needed them to think I knew what I was talking about is almost a less interesting question than why I also lied about what states preceded New York on the DNA Worldwide Tour.

There were more costume changes, more banter with adoring fans, more grinding reconfiguration of the stage, more neon mike stands shifting color in unison, something that probably seemed high tech in 1999, and more hits, at least four up-tempo numbers before they went into their big treacly ballad about which way they want it, which nobody can convince me isn’t about the supposed horrors of anal sex. Our neighbors checked and sure enough, both kids knew every word. A singalong ensued. Then I encouraged departure but the kids insisted on staying in case there was more. There was more.

In fact, all five guys came out for what I guess was an encore wearing Nets jerseys. Knowing what a rabid Nets fan I am, both kids felt vindicated for insisting we stick around. And then they actually knew the second, and final song of the evening and were so exhilarated by the whole thing that they wanted to walk all the way home. But it was 11:15 and I’d been up since 4:30 and I was not above projecting my fatigue onto them so we took the subway one stop. We had gotten out quickly enough that the train was not packed with other BSBers or whatever their fans are called. And again, if we strip away the petty concern of my daughters’ happiness, was I glad we went to a Backstreet Boys Concert? Well, one kid said “That would have been awesome even if the band didn’t sing any songs. The lights were just so great!” So cool. I just spent the better part of a week’s pay on the magic of strobes that kept me up way past my bedtime. And two very happy daughters. And very pleasant interactions with attractive strangers. And a few moments of infectious beats and melodies. And the nicest shit I’ve ever taken at a concert. Would I do it again, even with smarter lunch ordering? Without hesitation.

By the way, this was written while listening to Face Stabber, the newest Thee Oh Sees album. It’s fucking awesome. They’re playing a club in a few weeks than can hold about 800 people.

#BSBNYC DNAWorldTour BackstreetBoys BackstreetArmy Brooklyn BrooklynParenting Parenting NavalGazing PopMusic

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yourhero404 · 6 years

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Scenario (if you write those?) for when Shouji’s (male) s/o begins to have one of his massive nose bleeds and Mineta begins teasing him, saying that this happens because he’s actually a pervert but at the moment Shouji’s s/o just feels really uncomfortable and kinda on the verge of passing out because they’re covered in their own blood. How would he react? They have these often and sometimes it will become so much that they’ll have to spit/puke the blood out and might choke on it.

A/N: I do I do, lemme try this out for ya!

WARNING: There are mentions of blood, so if you aren’t okay with that please be wary! Nothing too gory or explicit (in my eyes anyway), but I will tag it as both “tw” and “tw: blood mention” in case it upsets anyone and they’d rather skip it!

SHOJI

You felt it coming before it was even close to being visible. Your nose started to burn- it felt swollen as the pressure started to build up steadily. Excusing yourself at this moment wasn’t possible; Denki had an arm around your shoulder to keep you roped into the conversation between the two of you plus Mineta.

Their conversation consisted of typical, hormonal teenage boy talk- they liked to fantasize and talk about how hot they thought the girls in the class were. You typically just stood around and nodded your head, throwing a ‘Yeah, they’re beautiful’ every now and again or shutting Mineta up when he went too far and disrespected one of them. Never once did you talk about them in the same fashion, you didn’t feed into the same ideals and absolutely tried to avoid being ‘the same as’ Mineta with those type of thoughts.

“Hey, where are you going (Y/n)?” Denki asked, pulling you closer. Normally you didn’t mind the contact with your friend, but this time you needed to get out before it happened.

“Maybe the thought of the girls in the locker room was too risqué for him,” Mineta joked, wagging his eyebrows.

You couldn’t focus anymore; Your head started to pound in pain at the pressure gathered at your nose. You felt a little faint already- it was a warning at how bad this one was going to be and you knew it. You could faintly hear Denki voicing his concern over the pounding in your ears before it happened; There was a soft pop at the bridge of your nose as the heat started to run down and out of your nostrils. Quickly, you covered your nose with your hand and acted as if nothing was wrong.

“I uh, I gotta go you guys, sorry…” you mumbled, trying to back away from them again.

“Wait, are you okay? What’s up?” Denki asked, his previous concern now written across his face.

“I’m fine, I just have to-“

“Woah, he got a nose bleed!” Mineta called while pointing it out with his finger. “That’s a lot of blood- you really are a pervert aren’t you? See, I knew he was like us!”

It was fairly obvious now- the excessive amount of blood started to seep through your fingers, crimson drops falling to the floor as they began running down your arms. The sleeves of your uniform started to soak up some of the liquid, staining the light grey with splotches- but the blood didn’t stop flowing. You hunched over a bit as Denki tried to pat your back a bit in reassurance, offering a handkerchief as well.

The liquid started to drain a lot faster- you couldn’t remove your hand or it would directly pour out. Attempting to pinch your nose, you felt the liquid hit the back of your throat as you tried to take in a breath; The blood caused your breathing to hitch as your chest started to heave and twist in pain while you sputtered and coughed. You dropped to your knees, now struggling to breathe as the copper taste filled your lungs and throat- you removed your hand from your nose, letting the blood flow freely as you gripped your chest, trying to breathe as you spit copious amounts of blood onto the floor.

Your head started to spin as you fell faint. It felt as though your head was a balloon yet at the same time, somehow… heavy. The rest of your body felt heavy and numb- growing even more so as your eyes fall to the pool of your own blood underneath you. As if your heart rate hadn’t already started to skyrocket, the sound clouded your ears and your judgement as your hands attempted to find steady ground before you- it was flat and unmoving yet seemed to rapidly move beneath your touch. The corners of your vision started to fade to black, the rest of it blurring as unconsciousness started to consume you slowly. The last thing you were able to make out was the image of your boyfriend Shoji as he crouched to the ground next to you, seemingly concerned- the rest was dark and cold as your body dropped.

Faded sounds of concerned voices hit the back of your mind- they sounded far away and muffled, but if you thought really hard about it, you could hear Shoji’s voice. He sounded slightly panicked, it was uncharacteristic for him. There was pressure on your body, you assumed it was his hands lifting you into the air. You couldn’t tell- were you really awake? Were you unconscious? Were you dead? It all seemed like a far-off dream the moment you opened your eyes to find the sunset breaking through the curtains in the nurse’s office and a presence near your bed.

Through half lidded eyes, you found your boyfriend asleep sitting up in the chair next to your bed- his uniform jacket hung off the back of the chair behind him. The front was covered in now dry blood stains, you figured yours probably looked about the same. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes- the pain was gone, but god, the embarrassment hurt much worse. Your mind replayed the scene over and over again, the look on everyone’s faces, the panic you had felt, how soaked your clothes had been. The feeling was vivid, like the cloth was still stuck against your body, the strong scent of copper stood in your nose even hours after.

You started to cry, one hand covering your mouth as you tried to keep yourself quiet. The embarrassment mainly drove your emotions, but the thought of how worried your friends had looked- how distraught your boyfriend must have looked when he saw you, those feelings are what hit you the hardest. You didn’t like to seem weak or cause anyone any concern, yet, you couldn’t even stop the blood from coming out of your nose- what kind of hero were you going to be if you can’t even help your own body?

A gentle touch to your leg brought you out of your thoughts as Shoji sat forward to lean against the bed. His eyes scanned your face for any further sign of discomfort, they seemed so sad and worried that you couldn’t help but cry louder. Rather than trying to calm you down, he sat on the edge of your bed, holding you close to let you cry against his shoulder as he rubbed a few of his hands up and down your back in comfort. He waited patiently, sitting there until your cries quieted on their own and reduced themselves to nothing but sniffles- that’s when he spoke.

“Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?” he asked.

“…No, I’m fine,” you answered. You twiddled your thumbs a bit before biting your bottom lip, gearing up to ask him the question you feared, “You think I’m pathetic, right?”

“What?” his voice sounded genuinely surprised, “Why would I think that?”

“Come on. My nose practically exploded with blood and I couldn’t do anything but pass out. How am I going to be a hero? What if it happens while I’m trying to save someone?” you paused a moment, tears welling back to your eyes as you recoiled at the memory, “Oh my god, everyone thinks I’m a pervert, don’t they? Don’t they!”

One of his hands landed on top of your head, promptly shushing you. He ruffled your hair a bit before laying his own head on top of yours and held you close.

“No one thinks you’re a pervert. They all know how hard you work to make sure they’re respected- please don’t think that,” his voice grew softer as he went on. “Everybody gets nosebleeds, (Y/n). It isn’t something you need to be embarrassed about. Maybe there’s something that can medically help you and you just haven’t found it yet- but it isn’t going to hinder your performance as a hero. You’ll be a great help to people who need it.”

You sat there a moment, letting his words bounce around in your head and let them reassure you. There was no need for long explanations or sugared up words- you knew that your boyfriend was the type of guy to get straight to the point, not to mention he never said anything lightly. After you whispered a soft thank you, he nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head lightly in response.

“Also, (Y/n), do you know how to get blood stains out of clothes?” he asked wholeheartedly expecting to get the stains out. The entire front of the jacket was coated in who knows how many layers of blood.

“I… I’ll just buy you a new uniform jacket.”

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k-p-p-d · 6 years

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Stay: Green Light (A)

Pairing: Jisoo x Male OC (feat. Rosé & Lisa)

Summary: Jisoo didn’t know why he’d ended things and she tried to convince herself she didn’t want to know. What she wanted to know was if she could ever be happy without him again...

Length: 1.8k + texts

A/N: Listen to this while you read! @blackinkfics This has been a year in the making and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to a point where I felt comfortable enough to post it. I’m also sorry that this is how far I’ve gotten in all this time, but I hope it lives up to your expectations. Ily~ #LongLiveJJ

Jamal POV

Eyes closed and music blaring, Jisoo inhaled deeply. As the crescendoing bass line reverberated through the air and surged through her chest, she willed her heart to pound along steadily with the beat. It was a trick he had taught her during a long forgotten lesson, yet she practiced it religiously through every rehearsal, evaluation, and performance. She wasn't a natural dancer but allowing the syncopated rhythms to flow through and guide her body as she moved allowed her to easily make up for it as she carefully executed each move. Song after song, 8-count after 8-count, Jisoo drilled the choreography until she could barely stand, her body quaking with exhaustion and chest heaving with exertion.

Vaguely, she recognized the warmth spreading through her already torched skin. She slowly registered the size of the fingertips resting against her shoulders; and though she would never let it show, the bitter ache of disappointment pinged through her that the hand was not the large one she had become so accustomed to, but instead much smaller and much more slender. Jisoo glanced up to meet the eyes, widened in concern, of her precious Lisa. "I'm fine, LaLa!" she chirped. She grinned at the younger and reached up to ruffle her sweat slick bangs.

"I don't believe you," Lisa huffed as she flicked the elder's wrist away from her. "You only practice this hard when you're stressed."

"I'm not stressed." Jisoo pushed off the wall and shrugged, swinging her arms across her chest as she began to stretch her aching limbs. "I just want to be as good of a dancer as you."

Lisa pouted, "Don't deflect!"

"I'm telling the truth," Jisoo insisted before she took a swig of her water. That only earned her a look of distrust and discontentment. "Hey! Don't stare at me like that! We both know how many countless hours you grinded through to get to where you are. I want to be that way too."

Lisa sighed. She could only push as far as the other would let her and clearly there wasn't much room left. "Swear on chicken?"

Crossing her heart, the elder affirmed, "And pizza."

"Okay, then I'm going to head home now. You wanna ride together?"

Jisoo shook her head. "Nah, I'm not done here yet. Don't worry, mom, I won't stay here all night." With a roll of her eyes and a dramatic huff, Lisa conceded and left the dance studio, leaving Jisoo back where she started.

Alone.

Staring ahead at the back of a door, the clear image of the back of the head of someone she loved just having slipped through it. But it wasn't her member's head pressed into the surface of her corneas. Jisoo turned on her heel to face the mirror, shut her eyes, and exhaled sharply. "Channel it," she commanded herself as she unclenched a fist to turn the music up, once again surrendering herself to the frantic rhythms.

Her frenzied trance was broken when the music abruptly died. Another steadying hand--closer to the size she had become so accustomed to but still not the hand she knew not to expect--loosely gripped her shoulder. "Time to go home, dear," her manager said sweetly. Dripping in sweat, she wordlessly nodded her head and set about cleaning the studio.

When she was finished, her body was howling with fatigue. Normally she wouldn't have to ask to be helped out, but he wasn't there to carry her. Doing things on her own now--that was her new normal. No one but her was there to pick her exhausted limbs and aching heart up and carry her. She had to do for herself now. "Only the weak," she chided herself quietly as she grabbed her stuff. Her manager lifted a questioning brow, but she simply shook her head in response. Now it was her turn to walk through that door, leaving a little chunk of her broken-hearted burden behind as she went.

The kaleidoscope of brilliant neons pulsating overhead filtered darkly through the tinted windows of the company car as it zoomed along the streets. Jisoo stared listlessly at them, her mind far too exhausted to pay them the standard amount of awe she normally gave them. Vaguely, she could hear the excited chirps of a brighter girl passionately gush over the pretty lights while a smooth, deep, warm chuckle floated through her ears and curled within her stomach. She shook her head and turned away from the window. Someday the flashing green and pink and red and orange lights would bring her the same joy they once did. Someday, she'd coo over them just like that bright girl did all those moons ago. Someday when she could let these minuscule but impactful memories go. "Someday," she whispered softly.

But for now, she was content with letting herself finally pull up his contact information on her phone. She didn't expect an immediate response from him by any means; honestly, she hoped he wouldn't read it for a week or two. Yet she knew she needed him to respond relatively soon so her courage wouldn't fade. Pressing on the picture-less circle next to his name, she tapped out a very cut-and-dry question. "Keep it simple, keep it emotionless," Jennie's sage advice floated through her head and tumbled out of her mouth as she hit 'send.’

Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the cool glass of the tinted window, letting the vivid blues and violets and fuschias of the low-hanging neon stars wash over her skin as an outward reflection of the clashing emotions warring in her heart.

Even when she finally made it home, there was still no response from him. She wasn’t hurt, no, she’d vowed that she wouldn’t let herself be hurt by him again. But yet there was still some part of her that had hoped… It didn’t really matter, she decided internally with a huff. They were both two adults with very hectic schedules. He’d respond to her when he got a chance; he certainly wasn’t cowardly enough to run from her text messages at least (phone calls and voicemails were an entirely different story). She deposited her phone on her bed and pointedly ignored it as she changed into her pajamas after taking a quick shower that had mercifully washed away the remnants of her grueling dance practice off her.

Scooping up Dalgom into her arms, she made her way out to the living room to catch up on the dramas she’d missed earlier in the evening. Chaeyoung, as reliable as ever, was already curled up in the center of the sectional with a heaping pile of snacks laid out on the coffee table before them. “I didn’t know what you wanted and I couldn’t decide so I brought them all,” she sheepishly admitted, nervously tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear as she blinked owlishly at the elder.

Jisoo couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face. “My sweet Chaeyoung is far too precious for this world,” she cooed as she plopped down next to the orher girl. Chaeyoung didn’t even try to hide the self-satisfied smile that slipped onto her lips. Instead, she offered up a hard-boiled egg she’d already halfway peeled. Jisoo shifted until Dalgom was nestled comfortably in her lap so she could finish peeling the egg. The pair snacked in comfortable silence as their attention was held captive by the compelling storylines of the episode. As the credits for the episode rolled, Jisoo glanced at the younger to see if she was willing to watch the next episode only to find Chaeyoung sound asleep, nestled in her favorite blanket against a pile of pillows. Jisoo smiled sweetly at her sleeping friend. “Time to go to bed, Dalgomie,” she whispered to the little ball of fluff curled in her lap. Carefully, she slowly slithered off the couch and turned off the lights before making her way to her room.

Her phone glowed ominously in the darkness. An unexpected sense of dread washed over her as gingerly lifted it up. Dalgom stirred slightly in her arms, turning to rest his head against her chest as if to reassure her that he was always there for her. Jisoo leaned down to snuggle her beloved pup for a brief moment while she gathered all her confidence to unlock her phone.

A straightforward, simple answer that was as emotionless as her inquiry. Honestly, it was somewhat a relief he’d only responded with a single word. More words meant more time spent overthinking what he meant or how many times he’d attempted to respond to her or how she should respond next or how many times she had to grip and regrip her phone as her fingers trembled a little too much for her liking. “No.” She could work with this. Quickly, before she could even begin to think of overthinking her answer, she tapped out her response and hit send. She didn’t even wait to hear the tell-tale swoosh that indicated her message had actually been sent before she locked her phone.

Pulling back the covers, Jisoo crawled into her bed, its familiar softness grasping greedily onto every inch of her tired body was a welcomed distraction from the dinging of her phone. She rolled over to snatch up her phone after she gently placed Dalgom on his pillow. “Keep it simple, keep it simple,” she repeated like a sacred mantra as she once more unlocked her phone. “Singapore?” she questioned to the still night air hanging like a heavy, dark blanket over her room. Why was he in— “Oh, duh. Tour,” she mumbled as she left her fingers speak for her to him. He responded almost immediately, his next message getting straight to the point:

Well, that was a loaded question. What she wanted was for Stephen Hawking or whatever extraordinarily brilliant man to build a time machine that would allow to go back in time and stop him from ending things with her. Or maybe she could spare herself all the trouble and just erase the first time she ever saw him. Or maybe she wanted to travel back and tell her past self to really cherish every moment she’d spent with him. Or just, at the very least, fast forward to a time where she was no longer heartbroken over him. She just wanted to feel something than the empty heaviness that had burrowed itself so deep in her heart, she was quite certain it had become a blackhole in the very center of her being. But that was a mystery for some physicist to figure out. In the meantime, she had to figure out how to tell him that she wanted to give him back the few things of his she’d somehow wound up having in her possession without revealing to him that the only reason she wanted to give it all back was so she wouldn’t have physical reminders of the ache in her battered heart.

Jisoo groaned loudly and flopped down into her pillows. Dalgom perked up a little as she berated herself, “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Why did she say that? Why? Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk later. They were broken up. After she returned his things, that would be the very end of their...everything. Jisoo scrubbed madly at her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She’d shed enough tears for him. She would find some way to move on, she resolved as she pulled the covers up to her chin. But for now, she needed to focus on getting some much needed sleep. Maybe when she woke up tomorrow morning, her heart would hurt less...

—Admin Lily

#blackpink #blackpink jisoo #blackpink scenario #blackpink jisoo scenario #blackpink kim jisoo #blackpink fic #blackpink angst #blackpink fanfic

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