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mx-ishikawa · 2 years

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Puppy

been a hot minute but I’m back with another GoeLight fic! I decided to do something a little different and wrote this fic from Goemon’s point of view, ish (it’s in third-person because I’d feel weird writing “I” from the perspective of someone else talking about myself LMAO). I wanted to finish this in time for my Lupinniversary on the first lmao, so uhh enjoy!

He wasn’t exactly looking for love when she came into his life.

When they had first met he was merely doing what he normally does; fighting this week’s enemies and saving an innocent person who got mixed up in the wrong business. Lupin was always pleased to find a “damsel in distress” to rescue, but it wasn’t in Goemon’s nature to take advantage of the situation like that. Perhaps it was just his morals, or perhaps it was because of his shyness around women. Whatever the reason, Goemon was much more humble when it came to rescuing people. It was simply part of his job, nothing special.

Light was different. She wasn’t exactly innocent in the traditional sense, but she was by no means a sultry woman either. Hell, she wasn’t even noticeably feminine. He could tell she was socially anxious by her speech patterns and body language, but she was the kind that talked too much instead of too little. She was awkward but aloof, stubbornly staying true to herself but more than willing to go wherever the wind took her in life. Perhaps the reason he was initially curious about her was because she was particularly shy around him, but much more casual around Lupin and Jigen. No, it wasn’t also because he thought she was cute. Nope, not at all, how could anyone be so brash as to assume such a ridiculous thing.

Okay, so maybe he did think she was kinda cute. But he never would have admitted it in the beginning. In fact, he didn’t even seem to recognize his feelings looking back. He couldn’t have pinpointed what exactly it was about her that drew him to her if he wanted to. He could only hypothesize on why she intrigued him so. And yet, that in itself was the exact reason he was so interested in her in the first place. She was honest, predictable even, sending a clear message on who she was, and still managed to have this mysterious charm about her, the kind that kept him guessing in an exciting way. He never met anyone who could pull off both without coming off as two-faced or untrustworthy. He found such a change of pace in companions refreshing. Relaxing, even. He could be himself around her without having to worry about her taking advantage of it. Hell, she was far too soft for that, the poor thing apologized to tables if she bumped into them out of second nature.

As a matter of fact, when it came to conflict or others’ feelings, she was what some would call a pushover. True, she generally didn’t like being told what to do, but the second someone raised their voice in even the slightest she was as compliant as a mindless slave. Goemon noticed this. Seeing her cower in fear at a stern tone, even when not directed at her, sent a pang through his heart. He knew that was hardly a normal reaction to people arguing amongst themselves in another room. She had to unfortunately have been through something. He dared not ask what; he knew she’d tell him and everyone else when she felt comfortable. In the meantime, he would feel a sense of protection over her in those moments. He remembered the first time Lupin and Jigen got into a less-than-light-hearted argument in her presence. She had at first attempted to keep the peace between them, but when neither of them listened and their debating became more intense, she fled the room looking as if she’d seen a ghost. He remembered her surprise when she realized he had followed her, the nearly relieved look in her eyes when he had wordlessly opened his arms inviting her in for a hug. The way she practically dove into him, holding onto him tightly with shaky breaths and a million unnecessary apologies.

She seemed more relaxed around him after that day, not that she was ever afraid of him or anything before but her initial shyness around him finally melted away. She could joke around with him just as she could with the others, though she still stammered and blushed in his presence. He remembered asking Lupin and Jigen why this might have been while Light was napping in the other room and being completely unprepared for the answer.

“She— I— a— wh— crush????” The poor man was nearly choking on his ramen while Lupin and Jigen laughed their asses off at his reaction.

“Easy with the ramen there buddy, I don’t think it’s worth dyin’ over,” Jigen teased.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Lupin sneered. “Goemon, man, ol’ pal, I know love when I see it, and Light’s totally got eyes for you, it’s so obvious.” A devilish grin that Goemon did not like the look of impishly stretched across Lupin’s mischievous face as he leaned in closer to his friend. “And judging by all that redness on your face, you clearly have the hots for her too~.”

WHAT.

He choked out a gasp of surprise, screwing his eyes shut and crossing his arms over his chest, gripping his sword. “Y-you’re ridiculous, Lupin.”

“You’re in love with her, you totally are!” Lupin was roaring with laughter, and even Jigen was cackling along with him.

“I’m sorry Goemon, but I’m with Lupin on this one, it’s friggin’ obvious, man.”

“I refuse to let either of you decide my own feelings for me,” Goemon huffed, standing up from his seat to finish his ramen somewhere else as the other two laughed at his embarrassment. Who the hell were they to tell him if he himself had a crush on someone or not? He was pretty sure he was capable of determining his own feelings as a grown man. He sat down at the nearest table. He repositioned his chopsticks back to continue eating. He thought about Light. More specifically Light having a crush on him. This wouldn’t be the first time someone admired him in such a way. Though in those previous situations, either they were much too young for him, or he simply didn’t return the affections. Sometimes he felt bad because most of his own admirers were perfectly nice people but the thought of them making advances in pursuit of his affections genuinely made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t describe. But, oddly enough, he didn’t feel bothered by Light seeing him in that way. Hell, it was kind of flattering. Maybe it was just because he’d actually gotten to know her more than past admirers… or maybe he really did have his own crush on her, too? He shook his head. Lupin was just messing with his head. He couldn’t let his companion’s teasing words get to him. Then again, he did recall catching himself looking at Light for a little too long a little too many times. Maybe he just liked admiring her features? Like one would stop to gaze at a painting. Yeah. He recalled the times where he’d catch her staring at him too, only for her to turn her head away the second she noticed that he noticed. It was cute, really. He’d catch her wistfully gazing at him like a puppy begging for some table scraps for only a split second, but the image never left his mind.

Now that he thought about it, she was much like a puppy in a lot of ways. Endlessly loyal, a little clueless at times, sometimes hyper, sometimes sleepy, always hungry and… cute. She wasn’t an intentionally cutesy person, but he found every little thing she did adorable- oh no.

Fuck. He did have feelings for her.

“Auurgh, what’cha doin’ over here Goemon?” Light’s sudden yawn from the doorway nearly made him jump out of his seat. “Oh shit, didn’t mean to scare ya!” she laughed. That laugh… it was so contagious that even he couldn’t help but crack a smile whenever he heard it. Son of a bitch.

“You did not scare me, I was merely… lost in thought.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Oh okay good,” she chuckled as she plopped down opposite of him. “Must be damn good ramen.”

He shyly looked down at his bowl. “They taste well… would you like some?” Goemon what are you saying, you only have one pair of chopsticks!

“Aww you don’t have to…” But I want to.

“I insist.” Goemon took a small bundle of noodles between the chopsticks, and before he knew it, he was holding them directly in front of Light’s mouth. What the hell has gotten into him, now she was probably going to think he’s weird, argh. She stared at the ramen in surprise, hesitating. Was she blushing or were her cheeks always that pink? He felt his own face heat up as he watched her lean forward and gently take the noodles from his chopsticks. Any other time she’d wolf down her meals and food offered to her like a starving dog, but now she was taking such care in her eating, probably surprised by his offer. Her face lit up into a closed-mouth smile as she ate.

“Mmmmm… ya da’sh goo’ shet!” Goemon didn’t even care that Light was talking with her mouth full. Even that was adorable to him.

Yup, he had it bad.

Suddenly he was now the one to be shy around her, not that he wasn’t always shy around people but now that he’d faced the facts and accepted his feelings for her he had a lot more reason to be nervous. He’d blush and stammer whenever she spoke to him, worried he’d say or do something wrong. At first she didn’t seem to notice- after all, he was a man of few words- but after a while he could tell she’d caught on, though what she made of his change in demeanor was unclear. But she never rushed him, she’d wait and listen and reassure him to take his time. Which only made his heart flutter faster- how the hell was she so nice? She might have claimed to not be a patient person, but with other people he swore she could wait years for. And it wasn’t just him. He’d seen her help a drunken Lupin to the nearest place to purge his alcohol, care for Jigen’s upset stomach, let a distressed Zenigata cry on her shoulder, and even comfort Fujiko if she knew life was being unfair to the femme fatale. He admired her selflessness and was touched by her frequent donations of her share of loot to those in need. But she was not without sass and snark, frequently engaging in witty banter with others and not taking any shit from anyone. Anyone else might have been annoyed by her tendency to speak her mind, but Goemon rather liked that about her. Even if she didn’t mean to blurt out half the shit she said, he’d always listen to what she had to say. What he was not as fond of was Lupin and Jigen’s shit-eating grins and incessant teasing once they realized he’d accepted his heart’s desires. God, he hated when they were right.

There soon came a time where Goemon decided he wanted to make his feelings more known to her. He had the perfect idea for a custom gift, and he insisted on flying to Japan to have it specially made. It just so happened that a festival was being held in the area at around the same time, so everyone ended up joining him, and Light herself was the only one unaware of the real reason for their travels.

His gift was finished just in time for the festival. He stuffed it in a secret compartment of his kimono while everyone else slipped into their own. Fujiko was assisting Light in putting hers on as she’d never worn a proper kimono before, while the guys were just wrapping up with their own dressing. Goemon cringed when Lupin emerged wearing the most god-awful neon every-color atrocity he had ever seen in his life. He was going to attract many stares compared to Goemon himself, who was wearing a simple navy blue garment, and Jigen, in a classy silver yukata with the only abnormality being his signature fedora paired with it.

“Goemon, you sly dog, she’ll never see this coming~!” Lupin giggled.

“She might if she overhears your loud mouth,” Jigen grumbled.

The sound of sudden laughter from the other room made the three of them turn their heads toward its direction.

“From the sound of that, nothing will be overheard from either of them,” Goemon conjectured. The sound of Light’s boisterous laughter mingled with Fujiko’s breathy giggles was contagious, as the others found themselves chuckling soon after.

“It’s nice to hear them getting along for once,” Lupin swooned.

“You say that as if they argue frequently,” Goemon said. “Light is a very agreeable person, and even Fujiko is no exception to this.”

“What’s so friggin funny about putting on a kimono?” Jigen pondered.

“I nearly fell getting the damn thing on!” Light answered as she clumsily entered the room with Fujiko gracefully stepping by her side. Fujiko’s outfit was just as showy as Lupin’s but more traditionally so, sporting a flowery furisode and matching accessories, while Light donned a more modest green kimono with subtle floral patterning at the bottom and birds woven into the sleeves and near the collar. Lupin immediately swooned a “Fujicakes~!” and practically drooled over her as he usually did, but Goemon could not take his eyes off Light. He thought she looked so beautiful…

“These fucking shoes are so hard to walk in, how the hell did anybody pre-Meiji era manage?” Light stumbled around trying to figure out how to walk in her geta shoes.

“If you are having trouble, I am here for you to lean on.” Goemon offered out his arm.

“Aww, Goemon, you’re such a gentleman,” she swooned. He blushed as he felt her own arm hook around his.

“Are we ready to go, then?”

The air was chilly, but Light was comfortable in her layers and tucked underneath Goemon’s arm for extra warmth as the group strolled around and stopped at many vendors. Goemon himself was plenty warm, trying not to make his nervous sweating obvious. She didn’t even hesitate to lean herself against him and the sudden affectionate gesture kept his heart fluttering nonstop since. God, he did not want to screw this up…

“How are you two not cold??” an exasperated Light asked Lupin and Jigen.

“I’m a heat box and Lupin is too full of energy to be cold,” the gunman chuckled, pointing with his thumb to Lupin. The man’s kimono was practically falling open with all the running around he was doing. Light barked out a laugh that made Goemon feel rumbles in his own chest.

“Hey Lupin, why ya gotta talk to every chick you see when Fujiko’s right here?” “Yeah, what am I, chopped liver~?” Fujiko scoffed. Even Goemon couldn’t help but chuckle when Lupin’s expression dropped into one of annoyance.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Lupin sneered before turning to some blonde tourist.

“We should just leave him here,” Light suggested as if it was the most normal thing to do, making everyone else laugh.

“Eh y’know what, I think it’s time for a beer,” Jigen said, before winking at Fujiko. She only took a second to realize what Jigen was getting at.

“Now that you mention it, I saw a vendor a little while back with a beautiful jewelry display, I’m gonna go take a look.” She returned a wink to Jigen. “You two behave~!”

“Yeah don’t make us bail your asses!” And in an instant, Light and Goemon were alone.

For a moment, the two of them remained silent as they continued to stroll and take in all the sights. Soon enough though, the sound of Light sniffing the air broke the silence. Goemon softly chuckled.

“You sound like a puppy dog when you do that.”

“I always sniff like a dog,” Light laughed. Goemon quietly cleared his throat. It was now or never.

“Umm, Light, uhh, now that we are alone, I… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” He could tell she was nervous from the subtle way her body tensed.

“Don’t worry, it is nothing bad.”

“Oh thank god haha,” she exhaled. Goemon held out his hand.

“Come with me.”

He gently led her away from the crowd of people and underneath a lovely Japanese maple tree. The way she looked up and around at the crimson leaves in awe melted his heart.

“It’s so beautiful here~” she gasped.

“This is just one little tree. You should see a whole garden of them.”

“No, I mean this entire country. I’d only ever seen it in pictures before…”

There was a brief pause before Goemon cleared his throat again. “Speaking of beautiful…” He began fumbling around inside his shirt. “I know you’re not much for jewelry, but I figured you could wear this as a brooch or keep it inside your pocket or… anything you’d like.” He heard a soft gasp as he pulled out his gift: a necklace, with a nylon string and a squared emerald hanging from it.

“Is… is that-” “An emerald.” Goemon smiled. “One of the emeralds from when we first met, in fact.”

“I thought you sold all your share of those?”

“All but one.” He gently handed her his gift. “It was cut locally, by an old friend of my mother’s, in fact. He was shocked that I insisted on a string instead of a chain, but… I know you dislike the feeling of cold metal on your skin.”

“I hate it,” Light laughed. She smiled and slipped the necklace on. “It’s beautiful, thank you so much… I don’t know what to say, what the heck even is the occasion? Besides this festival anyway haha..”

“Well…” He swallowed thickly. This was it. He gently held her hands in his own. “I… ever since we met, there was something about you that just… captivated me, right from the start. I knew right away that there was something special about you. You are unlike anyone else I have ever met. Every day you bring joy to my life and a smile to my face. You always find a way to make me laugh, sometimes it’s not even on purpose. You’re like a puppy… adorable, endearing, precious, sweet… I want nothing more than to hold you, protect you, and to have you always by my side. And there is nothing in this world more beautiful than you…” He freed one hand to gently stroke her cheek, wiping a lone tear away. “What I am trying to say is… I love you.”

She hiccupped, letting the tears fall but with the sweetest smile upon her face. “Goemon…” She shakily reached up to cup his face, gently brushing against the corners of his lips. He smiled underneath her touch— he knew her actions spoke louder than words.

So he leaned in as their lips met for the first time.

#my writing #self ship #lupin iii #self shipping #goemon ishikawa xiii #self shipping community #goemon #selfship fic #f/o: Goemon #just when I needed to be lucky

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.22}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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The two weeks that followed upon the dancing class were no different than Christmas time at Hogwarts always had been: it was snowy beyond reason, cold as hell, but the decorations that were put up actually brightened most people's mood and rendered everyone almost disgustingly cheerful. However, there were differences this year, and no matter how subtle they were, Robin still had no trouble pinpointing them with a striking accuracy.

One, both Cas and Jorien had chosen to stay at school over the holidays, mostly due to the fact that they were now in fourth year and thus officially allowed to attend the ball even without being someone's plus one. Besides that, they wanted to spend Robin's last ball at Hogwarts here with her, just once, all six of them together. Well, seven technically, but Robin still didn't know how she was supposed to get Snape into that equation.

Two, Robin spent significantly less time working for Sprout or Hagrid than she had during the last years (she did already work with them in the plenty during the school weeks at this point after all), and instead spent significantly more time with Snape, playing wizard's chess or reading during the days when the work was done, and drinking mulled wine, firewhisky or plain old coffee in his rooms at night.

And three, the two previous changes in addition to the revelations that had come up during lunch after the dancing class now made it near impossible for Robin to get the girls' words out of her head. Did Snape really look at her all that differently than at other people? Well, he certainly did, but that after all might merely be due to the fact that she was his best friend, just like he was hers. It didn't mean anything that his eyes followed her through the halls during meals, or that she slinked through the corridors on her way from his room to her own in an increasing frequency and like a bloody first year trying not to get caught after curfew. It didn't mean anything that he would sometimes just observe her with an expression that made her skin tingle while she rambled on about whatever had caught her attention now, and it most definitely didn't mean anything that he had gifted her that Japanese dictionary she had been trying to get her hands on for over a year now for Christmas. Without losing a word about it, of course, and in complete denial that it had anything to do with the holidays.

Put shortly, Robin couldn't help keeping her eyes open now that Jorien had so bluntly prompted her to. And every little thing she discovered made her want to sink back into deep denial indeed, and build a twenty feet brick wall around herself. Sometimes being the god of a universe of illusion is easier than being a peasant in the hell that is reality.

Honestly, she had never before actually considered that she might be scared to see the reality she found herself in, and found in herself. That she was scared to death not only of his true feelings, of being rejected, but also very much of her own emotions. It had been quite blissful to live in the easy fixed knowledge that she loved him, without actually paying attention to the reality of her feelings. And in reality, she felt something so intense and overwhelming that it terrified her to pieces. If only things were as easy as saying she loved him… Because if she was keeping her eyes open now, not only to her surroundings but also to herself, it was so much more than that. He was her best friend after all, her family and home, and after seven bloody years, there was no denying that he had also become a part of herself. Sure, she would be able to live without him, but what really mattered was that she would move heaven and hell to ensure she would never have to. Bloody hell, what a mess that would become once she left school in no more than half a year… And then, she could only hope that he would want to keep her in his life as well.

"Earth to Robin!" Jorien waved her hand in front of Robin's face, which was the first thing Robin noticed when she snapped out of her thoughts. "If you keep daydreaming like that, we'll be late to the ball!"

"We still have three hours until it's time to head up there." Robin huffed while rolling her eyes, but still shut the book in her lap she'd been failing to read for the last thirty minutes anyway. "I don't plan on sitting around in my dress until then."

"Are you sure that you want to wear the same one as last year?" Cas inquired in what sounded close to a whine. "I still stand by my offer to lend you one of mine!"

"Pff, yeah, Robin in a peach coloured glittery dress…" Jorien snorted, shaking her head at her friend. "You might be close to the same height, but your style is entirely different."

"I know that!"

"Obviously you don't. And Robin has a completely different body shape than you do, in addition to that."

"Hey, it's not my fault that I have muscles in my body!" Cas huffed with a glare at her friend. "Making the Quidditch team and staying on the team requires at least some level of physical fitness."

"Hey, I do have muscles!" Robin protested immediately, but she couldn't say that she felt offended by the girl's words. It was no secret that Cas definitely was the athletic type, whereas Robin's virtues were of a more academic nature.

"Yes, that, and I was actually referring to the fact that you are quite a bit more gifted in the upper regions than Robin." Jorien added with a pointed look at Cas, who crossed her arms over her chest with a blush and a pout.

"Guys, it doesn't matter, alright? I'm actually very much looking forward to wearing the same dress as last year." Robin tried to mend the field with diplomacy and an easy shrug. "The only reason I'm wearing a dress in the first place is so that I fit in a bit better."

"With Snape or with the crowd?" Cas returned with a smirk, all embarrassment forgotten. "Because while the former is quite the success with your dress, it logically eradicates the possibility for the latter to be too."

"That sounded way too Simon of you." Jorien snorted, then dodged the pillow that came flying her way. "What! It's not my fault that you guys are adopting each other's speech patterns more and more."

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Robin barged in before Cas could come up with a reply to get their bickering going again. There had been enough of that at breakfast. "Simon obviously is Cas' date, Gideon asked Lisa and Micheal's still trying to find someone. What about you, Jorien? Any prospects?"

"I asked Melissa." She shrugged casually in return, then started picking at her nails. "She'd rather go with a boy than with me. Better a date than a friend-date, and all that… Perhaps I should set her up with Michael, if both are so desperate to find someone to bring along. Quite pathetic, if you ask me. I'd rather go alone than be someone's last resort."

"Going alone is perfectly fine, I haven't ever had a date to the ball either." Robin shrugged with an encouraging smile. "You can be my date, if it means anything to you."

"You've been someone's unofficial date for all the past years, from what I was told, and I'm not getting in between that!" Jorien held up her hands in defense, and Robin rolled her eyes. "Upsetting Professor Snape wasn't on my agenda for tonight."

"Anyway…" Cas said after a few seconds of weird silence. "My plans for tonight include lots of dancing, hopefully some spiked drinks and of course some casual snogging."

"Cas!" Robin tried to sound scolding, but her laugh betrayed her exasperated tone. "That's nowhere near appropriate behaviour for a school dance!"

"Hey, I'm no saint and I never said I was!" The girl laughed in return, and the mischief that settled on her face should've been more disconcerting to Robin than it actually was. "Who knows, perhaps we'll visit the fifth floor hallway if things go well enough."

The mention of that make-out spot alone made Robin pull a face in distaste, and she couldn't help frowning deeply at her friend. "I would like to think that Simon has a bit more class than that."

"What, and I don't?"

"You just suggested going there, without a concern in the world. So please excuse me if I question your standards."

"She's got a point." Jorien added with a snicker and a shrug, and Robin gave her a high five with a smirk. Two against one; nobody was going to the fifth floor tonight.

"Fine…" Cas groaned and crossed her arms again. "But wherever else should we go, huh? Being classy while being a student isn't all that easy if you're not entirely immune to every boy's charme like Jorien or best friends with a bloody professor like Robin! How am I supposed to have fun, can you tell me that?"

"I'm not giving you pointers on how to snog your boyfriend, Cas. Or worse." Robin replied calmly, for she couldn't decide between being flustered and laughing at the girl's exasperation. "If you guys want to sneak around, you better do it without my knowledge. You know I can't lie, and chances are high that I would have to if I knew what you're up to."

"The alcoves are said to be a pretty good spot for making out." Jorien shrugged, completely ignoring Robin's previous statement. Great… now Robin would have to actively not listen to both of them. "And there's always our room, if you wanna go all out. With some sixth year charms work, it shouldn't be too difficult to find some privacy in the dorms… And I'd planned to sleep over at Melissa's tonight anyway. To hear all about her conquests."

"I did not just hear that, nope, absolutely didn't." Robin sighed to herself under her breath and turned on her heels, deciding that it was due time to take a shower. She'd gotten through puberty without too many losses, if she'd even had one in the first place, but she would be damned if she got dragged into her friends' shenanigans now as a late payback for that. So she grabbed her things and fled the room, after triple checking that everything she needed was safely tucked under her arm. She would not be smelling like pineapple tonight.

… … …

Luckily, when she returned to her room an hour later, the conversation had moved on and the girls were now discussing Cas' options for the dress she was to wear tonight. That was a topic Robin could very well live with, could very well ignore, and so she went back to reading like she'd originally tried to do before her thoughts had strayed. With a content sigh, she stretched out on the bed and focused on the article in front of her, until a light tap on her shoulder drew her eyes up and away from the page.

"It's just ten minutes until we're leaving, so you might want to get ready now at least." Jorien said to her with an amused smile, which only broadened when Robin's jaw dropped.

"But I literally just started reading! It can't be that late!"

"Yeah, well, that was two hours ago." The girl chuckled, then turned around to Cas for her to close the zipper of her dress. Both of them were already done with their preparations, in full makeup and beautiful hairdos, just a smile away from ready to go… and Robin was still in her pajamas.

With a groan under her breath, she flipped the book shut before tossing it onto her nightstand, then she scrambled to her feet to dig out her dress from the trunk at the end of her bed. Ten minutes; ridiculous, impossible… Well, not if she screwed decency for now. Without wasting any of the precious time on contemplation, she just went with it and shed her Queen shirt first, then her flannels without a second thought. Should they see her in her knickers, who cared at this point. They'd known each other for years now. Still, what she hadn't considered was the very reason why both girls gasped now and stared at her even as she stepped into the heavy black fabric of her dress and pulled it up her body with one swift move.

Robin sighed under her breath; she could very well imagine why the girls looked at her like that. It was one of the reasons why she never changed in front of anyone, and even less let them see her in any state of undress. "It's just a scar, guys. No need to be weird about it." She stated before either of them could say anything that would make the situation even more uncomfortable. "I told you that I was stabbed last summer, it's no big deal. Not a pretty sight, I know, but it is what it is."

"Didn't that hurt?!" Cas was the first to blurt out her thoughts. "I know that you told us about it happening, but… somehow I never really thought about the implications of that."

Robin snorted at the question, while she moved her hair out of the way to let Jorien close the many tiny buttons of her dress now. "Obviously it hurt. I almost died from blood loss, that's not going to happen from just a scratch. But it healed well for what it is. The scar really is a small price for my life."

"It's so weird to think that you've gone through something like that! I mean… you're just Robin, a bookworm too smart for her own good. To think that all those adventures you told us about actually happened is like imagining Professor Sprout in a wrestling tournament." Cas gestured wildly as she spoke, and Jorien just snorted at her friend's dramatics.

Robin shrugged all of it off with a smile that was as apologetic as it was evasive, then straightened her dress and put on the one pair of more or less dressy shoes she owned; they'd be covered by the dress for the most part anyway. Then she twisted her hair up with her wand like she usually did, and that was about it. Makeup still wasn't getting anywhere near her face, or any other body part for that matter.

"Wow… You look amazing! Powerful and dark and… pretty damn hot." Jorien commented when she got a glimpse at the front of the dress as well. "Like you're the essence of night itself."

"Right! That's exactly what I said last year!" Cas grinned and nodded in agreement, while Robin simply tried not to blush. Compliments about her wit and brains were fine… compliments about her looks however were just unusual and therefore weirdly uncomfortable.

"Thanks guys, but I'm really just trying to fit in." She shrugged, and both girls frowned at her in an instant.

"Fitting in is actually the last thing this dress does for you, I think." Jorien smirked as she slung her small bag around her shoulders, seconds before all three girls made for the door. It was time they got going, after all, and thus they mostly hurried through the common room and out into the hallways. "If anything, you'll draw attention. Make an impression on some people. Seize a few hearts, and steal a soul."

Robin just snorted while rolling her eyes at the comment, but Cas caught straight on to it.

"YES! Absolutely! Robin, you've got to take advantage of those killer looks… Try to seduce the subject of your affections!" Cas beamed, in a way that spoke volumes of her excitement about meddling in foreign affairs. "Use your womanly charm and go for it! Make him fall for you!"

"I love you, Cas, but do shut up."

"She's right though!" Jorien obviously had to side with her friend, and Robin groaned under her breath upon having both girls plotting against her now. "If he doesn't find you delectable now, he's truly as undeserving of you as every other male in this castle."

"And who would you be talking about?" Snape's deep voice made all three girls jump all of a sudden, and they each spun around to stare at the dark figure in the middle of the hallway behind them. They hadn't even made it out of the dungeons yet; they should've known better than to talk this loudly.

"Professor!" Cas shrieked, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as if she'd been caught doing something terribly wrong. Robin sighed under her breath and resisted the temptation to roll her eyes; so much for getting the two sides in her life a little closer together tonight.

"Nobody!" Jorien was quick to reply, and even quicker to regain control of the situation. "We were just on our way to the ball, actually."

"Obviously." Snape and Robin replied at once, and Cas snorted in return. Oh, this was going great alright… more fuel to their flames.

"Yes, it is fairly obvious, isn't it? So we should return to doing just that, or we'll be late." Jorien flashed a quick smile, then turned on her heels and grabbed Cas by the arm to drag her along while looking back over her shoulder at Robin. "You go ahead, and we'll find the guys and meet you in the hall later, yes?" With that, the two girls disappeared down the hallway and around the next corner mere seconds later, leaving Robin frozen to her spot with a frown on her face.

"Is it me or are they being even weirder than usual?" Came Snape's dry remark from just behind her then, and Robin's eyes flew to meet his while an involuntary smile pulled at her lips.

"Oh, they're absolutely bonkers. Delusional, really, if they seriously believe that I am looking delectable to anyone tonight." She chuckled, in the honest hope that he hadn't heard more of the girls' pep talk than that. But then again, he knew how to take their ridiculous ideas and teenage delusions by now, so it really didn't matter all that much. "It would take a blind man to find that mess on my head attractive."

"If you say so." He quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement, then offered her his arm instead of the usual subtle hand on the small of her back. "Let's make an effort to make it to the ball before we miss the headmaster's great speech, shall we?"

Robin's smile brightened before she could help it, and she didn't even hesitate to accept. This was the closest thing to a date she would ever have. "We shall indeed."

They arrived in the great hall just seconds before Dumbledore rose to gain everyone's attention, and luckily therefore nobody paid them much mind. A few glances here and there, more likely than not accompanied by frowning faces that studied the sight of the two dark figures in the shadows by the doors, who looked almost indignantly bored. And boy, the headmaster could talk and talk forever if he fancied it, about courage and justice and kindness and all those nimble ideals Robin fancied a more practical approach to. But finally his words faded into applause, and the crowds began moving and talking again.

"Is it me or does the speech get more righteous every single year?" Asked Robin, while she let Snape lead her towards their usual table in the far corner, only to find a group of adults sitting there already. In immediate confusion, they halted in the middle of the room, and her eyes found his in a silent question. Good thing it had become almost a bit of a routine that whenever she failed to take notice of something that was going on around her, he would know exactly what she had missed and could fill her in.

"Dumbledore opened the ball to a larger public this year." He explained, with a quiet yet undoubtedly disdainful tone. "Parents, important families, retired professors, ministry officials and the like."

"Why on earth would he allow them at a school ball? I mean… isn't this technically supposed to be for the students' enjoyment?" Robin inquired, while they continued moving through the room in search of an empty table, but finding none.

"Remember what I told you about the reasons for bringing this ball into existence in the first place?" Snape mused, and his eyes continued scanning the room, but not for a table anymore. Robin wondered who he was searching for.

"Oh. Yes, I do remember that."

"Well, let me assure you that this decision on the headmaster's end has something to do with the very likes of it."

"Great…" Robin sighed under her breath, and finally they settled for just standing at the edge of the dancefloor like everyone else who hadn't yet put a claim on a sitting spot. Somehow, the entire thing didn't seem like a fun night with friends anymore, but the very thing that was prone to make her anxious. Too many people, too many strangers mostly, and no certain place to sit and endure it all from the ranks… this was going to be hell. Or maybe, not entirely.

"May I have the first dance?" Snape asked, just when the occasion was announced and the musicians got ready to lead the way through the night. He held a hand out to Robin, in an expression of calm neutrality rather than the usual scowl even though they were surrounded by hundreds of people. Robin's heart skipped a beat, and she had to remind herself not to grin like a fool while yet her lips parted in surprise. Had he actually just asked her to dance? With words, in public, and for the first dance out of all the possible ones tonight?

"Isn't the first dance just for important people and their dates?" She quirked an eyebrow at him in mild amusement at last, choosing humour over astonishment and tingles, which would border dangerously on allowing herself to hope again.

"It is also reserved for the professors and overall staff, and even if you rightly so keep ignoring that, this group also entails me. As it is, I do not dance with anyone but you, so they will have to bear with the two of us, or live with neither." He replied so smoothly that Robin had no time to doubt or question his words when she placed her hand in his and let him lead her onto the dancefloor. Bloody hell… now all eyes were on her indeed, and she actually couldn't care less for once.

They got into position as did the other couples around them, some of which Robin knew and some of which she hadn't seen before, but when the music started, the world faded in return and left only Robin and Snape and the music behind. This wasn't hell, she found, but rather a piece of heaven on earth. Just the two of them, moving through the open space while never once looking at anything but each other. And in the very spirit of two weeks prior, Robin yet again couldn't help the smile on her lips as she held his gaze. The only thing she missed was the warmth of his hand on her back, the almost scorching touch, as now the thick fabric of her dress dimmed it down quite a bit and left her to feel the comforting pressure of it more than the heat. How nice would it be to have his fingers dancing across her skin? To dwell in his warmth for a bit and let it burn out the cold winter within her? She could only dream.

"I believe we make quite the sight." His quiet voice broke through her haze of excited, calm ambivalence, and the world regained it's hard corners and outlines. Gone was the dream, delayed to haunt her in her sleep tonight.

"We simply know how to dance." She replied with a subtle smirk, and found that the world wasn't quite so bad either if it still entailed the two of them together. "They probably don't get to see that all too often."

"I was thinking more along the terms of our common choice of… unusual wardrobe, but yes, I agree with your assessment as well."

"What other than unusual would they have expected of the dungeon bat and the insane girl?"

"Is that how people think of us?"

"I believe so." Robin smiled, but it took everything she had not to show the true effect his words were having on her. Was she so far gone by now that all it took was an 'us' ghosting past his lips to unravel the walls that contained her emotions? It seemed so.

The music stopped then, fading off the last strings as their flowing moments came to a halt as well. Too bad it was over. But perhaps they could do this again, now that the first dance had officially proclaimed them as partners for the night. It was an official custom after all, right? Robin held onto that string of hope at least as they made their way off the dancefloor and straight towards the far corner where their usual table lay empty now. Too bad for whoever had vacated it; now it was Robin's to keep.

They sat down to face the hall as always, and while it was significantly more crowded this year than it had been in the years prior, that also gave them quite a few more victims to observe and comment on. They got exactly two hours to themselves before their social invisibility was broken by the still distant but determined appearance of Cas. In her tow the other six people, who looked a lot less eager than her to get anywhere near Snape tonight. Robin sighed to herself in mild disappointment before anyone even spoke up; she would have to make a choice between her friends and her best friend now, and she hated that beyond measure. Why did life have to be so unfair at times?

"I know what you're thinking." Snape said then, quietly even though the ground of people still had to come anywhere near the table. "And you shouldn't be concerned, I understand the problem fairly well. I will leave if they wish to spend time with you."

He was already up on his feet and ready to just walk away when Robin caught his hand, and held onto it so tightly that his eyebrows lifted up when he looked back down at her.

"Don't think it's a decision I want to make, okay?" She asked with a sadness she didn't bother to hide. "It's not a decision I can make, actually, and I simply would've told them to deal with it or be the ones to leave if they've got a problem with your company."

"I know. And since it isn't a decision you should have to make, I made it for you now, by offering to leave."

"I don't want to spend the evening without you…" The words spilled past Robin's lips without any restraint now, and she was glad for that. It made the corners of his lips curl upwards for a fleeting moment at least.

"In that case, I might have to come and rescue you from their fangs in two hours for another dance. Good solution?"

"Make that one hour instead and we have a good solution indeed." She smiled up at him, and only now realised that she was still clasping his hand like a lifeline. Reluctantly but necessarily she finally let go. "I can't have four teen girls and three boys around me for much longer than that."

"As you wish." He returned a knowing not-smirk for a second, then turned on his heels and disappeared in the crowds just when Cas reached the table.

______________________________

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smilepal · 3 years

Note

Uncommon questions : 2, 9, 18 + B, F ♥

Ask meme for @gloryride 💖💖

2.) How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Hiro laughs pretty easily--whether it's at his own jokes or not, and enjoys casual banter with his friends--especially if they can handle good-natured teasing. He's good at keeping it relatively light, knowing not to go too far/doesn't actually want to make them feel bad. He also uses it to cover up more negative feelings, if you seem easygoing/like you don't care, or always have a rebuttal, then people don't pry as much, and he can hide personal feelings more easily. Regardless, he enjoys being able to get a genuine laugh out of his friends, and it's something he always appreciates in others. If someone seems super serious, he's likely to try to get them to loosen up a bit--see if he can't help break that shell a tiny bit.

9.) Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Frequently--Hiro's language belongs in the gutter, and he doesn't particularly care who overhears him. He's typically quite casual in his speech patterns, and isn't good at editing them, unless he's being extremely careful or there's good reason. He doesn't remember the first time he swore, but it undoubtedly was something he picked up from his older brother, or the other kids running around. He probably didn't think too much of it, it was easy, expressed displeasure well enough, and stuck around. And it wasn't as if anyone really cared enough to reprimand him. He's definitely the type that actively has to be careful not to swear around children, and definitely slips up on occasion.

18.) What embarrasses them?

Hiro's not easy to embarrass, by traditional means anyway. He's careful to give off an impression of "I don't care what you think of me--take it or leave it" and is not by nature, a self-conscious person. If you actually want to fluster him/see him caught off-guard, genuine affection is a really easy method of doing so. It's not something he accustomed to, especially if he's not the one initiating it. Anything romantic/nice gestures, platonic intimacy--get to him, especially if his response is commented on. If someone else points it out, it usually gets even worse, and he'll have a harder time not responding. It's easy to tell too--he blushes easily, despite the fact that he'll try to deny it. It's hard to miss though, and he knows it. Although it's not something he's used to, he still enjoys casual/sweet affection--he just might be a bit grumbly/sheepish about it.

B.) What inspired you to create them?

Oh boy, I'll try to be concise here but might not be very good at it. Hiro was inspired by me starting to get more into the cyberpunk/sci-fi genre. I'd recently seen Bladerunner for the first time (as well as the sequel) and was really inspired by the aesthetic/ideas behind it, and knew I wanted to create a character who'd fit into a world like that. So Hiro didn't start out as a Cyberpunk 2077 OC, just one who'd fit into a world like that. I'd been working on that specific character for maybe a year and a half before CP came out, and although he's gone through quite a few changes, that's where his general aesthetic/character came from.

His personality changed a lot--he became a lot more sympathetic/more likeable despite his flaws, and developed more depth beyond "rebellious gutter punk". Even after I managed to fit him into the CP universe, he went through some changes, largely inspired by my playstyle and nuances he picked up throughout the game. In my head he'd always been the more stealthy type, not wanted to race directly into combat--and he ended up being the opposite, largely because that was my playstyle in-game (and I had no patience for netrunning/sneaking.) I was also very inspired by the aesthetic in Cyberpunk--especially the tattoos and richness of the surrounding environment. I was at first driven by aesthetic when creating Hiro, and then his backstory/personality/quirks began to shape around this and make him a more unique character. I'm gonna cut myself there, because I will ramble for literally ages, but feel free to ask if you ever have more questions about him--more than happy to talk 💖

F.) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

I'm so proud of him. He's without a doubt the character I've spent the most time on, and put the most detail into, as well as created the most nuanced personality for. He has flaws--bad ones, but still manages to be sympathetic in some ways? And even despite the flaws, he's still good--tries to do the right thing, even if he's not sure what it is, or if it'll matter to anyone else. But yeah, developing him, and spending a lot of time working out his backstory/how he relates to others/all the little details with him has been so enjoyable for me. It especially helped me through quarentine/COVID when I couldn't see people in person and was feeling creatively dead. Even if I couldn't draw/write, I could work on little pinterest boards or character playlists and this helped to satisfy some of the need for something creative/producing something, even if I was the only one who'd see it. He's also the first character I've felt comfortable enough to share with others/on tumblr, and it's also led me to an absolutely lovey, creative, and supportive community. So there's some gratitude there as well, probably wouldn't have met half the people I did otherwise.

Thanks for asking, these were fun (and always happy to ramble about character creation) :3

#character asks #ask meme #hiro oda #cyberpunk ocs #wow these got a little wordy sorry 😂#behind the blogger #character creation #liv speaks/rambles

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astro-break · 4 years

Text

Quick first thoughts on the first ep of the Hypmic Anime. Spoilers beware (and im writing this as I watch so :p)

Otome’s speech is.... questionable from a persuasive point of view. Manga did a great job of introducing her (which you can read here) but they really cut out the more terrifying parts of her speech and how she uses force to show people that she's not to be messed with

Its cool seeing everyone in their respective environments though. thats cool. Though they could have added Sasara and Kuuko (shhh i know why they didn’t let me dream)

I love how poppy the typography is. Its amazing how the visuals just leap out at you. The OP does a great job of this. The first few seconds before the title really gives me Persona 4 OG OP vibes with the influx of information given. The rest is a clear concise and streamlined way that still gives character. Animation is sparse but still carries across a general idea of each character and shows off each character object. Rendering is really nice and pays a bit of homage to the posing artwork thats done for the MVs. They also do their division hand signals and thats cute

Love how the OP has blatant HifuDoppo and DRB matchup foreshadowing

so far I really like what theyre going for. BB is about brotherly familial bonds and they show the goods and the bads. Jiro and Saburo bickering right out the gate really cements the fact that they get along like cats and dogs but you can still see that they love each other, working together when the situation calls for it

Now the 3d models. Theyre... not great but usable if you don’t look too hard. They serve their purpose and don’t actively detract from the viewing experience.

Visual typography in the rap itself are fun and poppy but they dont.... speak to me? like theyre there yes and I appreciate them but the only ones that got me excited were from Ichiro’s rap

I take my words back the group portion was kickass and I apologize

I love how they interpret the Hypnosis Speakers though. Esp. Saburo’s organs. That was super creative and I love it! If there was one thing that I felt was missing from the franchise was a deeper exploration of the speakers but the anime puts a new and fresh spin on it! Love it, especially with their attack patterns!

If the production team ever feels inclined to, Id love to see those info sheets on Otome’s desk released. There seems to be very interesting info and stats written out about each member (like capabilities, personal status etc.) They all seem unique too so I really really really hope they release images of those sheets

OOOOOOOOKAY MTC. I have such a big biased for them so Im very torn to see what unfolds

Rio striking out on his own is interesting. Out of everyone in MTC hes the biggest team player yet here he trusts his teammates to go ahead. This either displays Rio’s willingness to trust his teammates or it becomes very OOC if the anime wants to set him up as a lone wolf like character

I love how they specify its a drug deal. It means that Jyuto surely will show up and it also shows that Samatoki knows Jyuto’s motives and willingly gives black market info that he knows aligns with Jyuto’s goal. Thats A+ detail writing there and a great establishing characteristic for both of them

OOohhhhhhhhhhhhh man Asunama-san’s voice acting is god tier his work as Samatoki is phenomenal. He pulls of Samatoki’s threatening voice so well with those almost calm words before his voice becomes loud and confrontational. Those rolling syllables in contrast to Komada-san’s almost lyrical and airy speech and Kamio-san’s strict and enunciated words is such a delight to hear. It just speaks to how amazing and great these Seiyuu’s are in order to pull of such amazing work

Im so biased but MTC has such a better rap than BB im so sorry. Just by watching Samatoki’s part, the imagery is amazing. Even the arrival of his Hypnosis Speaker was awesome and sent a shiver down my spine. using the lyrics to form blades and blood was such a great thing to do. Theres so much more variety that just him standing there and shots of his hypnosis speaker. The old fashioned vignette shots, the four panel spread, the nods to old Kurosawa era films are great and I love these small details. Even the typography looks better.

Again, the interpretations with the speakers is fresh and new. Its great and I love the different imagery and attack patterns. Each one is so unique but carries across each different style of rap.

The 3d modles aren’t any better tho lol

(Hi this is Astro who is reading over their assessment again and making a note. Yeah I’m a bit harsh on BB’s rap. I’m not going to change it since I still stand by it and this post is supposed to be a documentation of my first impressions. I think one of the reasons why I’m so harsh on BB is because of their dynamic as a trio of brothers. They Have to have a more uniform approach than the other divisions. Which in of itself isn’t a terrible thing, it just doesn’t catch my eye as much as MTC did. Thats all! I definitely don’t hate BB, they’re maybe my 3rd favorite division out of the current lineup [not including TDD era teams like Kujaku Posse, MCD, and Naughty Busters] its just that their rap was pretty meh)

Samatoki crouching like a real gangstar and the cigarette kiss killed me

sadjkhfjkasdghsadjkcsdjhsdfsjhf im dying i love these trio of dumbasses so uch oh y fod someone save me aaaaaaaa (Astro note here! yeah i died when the jyuto and samatoki’s stomach growled im weak please. Samatoki’s face is just so precious and funny I might set it as a profile pic somewhere)

But also my initial assessment of Rio possibly being characterized as a lone wolf is very much jossed and im very thankful for that. It seems that Rio was simply trusting his teammates to carry out their part of the plan while he carried out his own. I like that, it really shows how much of a team these three are and that they genuinely trust each other. He’s also comfortable enough around them to invite them to dinners after work casually and not just for special occasions.

I really love MTC guys

Oooh! we get Ramuda on his design process which is really cute. the inside of his studio is super cute and retro and i love it. the poppy old music you would hear in a cafe or 90′s resturaunt is also really cute (astro note: yeah i know that in ARB you see the interior of Ramuda’s office but its kinda different seeing it animated)

the translation i have has gentaro speaking in early modern english (Shakespearian english for those who aren’t english nerds like me) but from what I can hear, he doesn’t speak in a particularly old fashioned way? Its more formal than old? and hes speaking without any of his character persona lying thing that he likes to do (as he refers to himself as “Shousei” throughout the segment where hes in Ramuda’s office which is kind of his default pronoun of choice). so its kinda odd for the translation to go in that direction but im not complaining

Gendice banter is gold but it feels... flat? a little? it doesn’t have the same impact as in the drama cds or in the manga? i feel? Also Ramuda using gratuitous english is??? idk how to feel about that

kjshf thats against the rules Ramuda omgggg,,,,,,,, (astro note again: while watching i was under the assumption that using your hypmic for monetary gain such a as buskering [which is what FP is doing] is against the rules. May not be the case but whatever)

FP’s rap might be my favorite in terms of tune and lyrics though. It’s a nice laid back bop and really gives of chill vibes. the integration of 3d and 2d is really nice and i love how they play off each other in the rap. The wordplay is so fun with little nods here and there and the beat is poppy too so it really energizes me.

Ramuda’s rap concerns me slightly since he makes very subtle and small nods towards his past (being created in a laboratory, warfare, and his overall very unpleasant life experiences) but spins it into something cutesy. It could be a coping mechanism, it could be me overthinking it. But it does make me worry a bit. Gentaro and Dice’s rap really play off each other with Gentaro sticking to stories and Dice taking up the baton by carrying on that same imagery but putting his own spin on it.

the self awareness of how scattered they are as a team is interesting though. It doesn’t seem like something you’d speak about in a rap? but i guess since its not really a do or die situation they can afford to be looser on things like this.

Right off the bat, i don’t like how they handled Hifumi and Doppo in relation to Hifumi’s fear of women. Slug made a post once talking about this and I echo many of his sentiments. Hypmic has never been very tactful about tackling this particular issue and while I didn’t have high hopes that the anime would be any better it hurts to see Doppo take away the one thing that allows Hifumi to function within society.

Doppo’s breakdown mirrors a lot of my own mental state when I spiral though its shown a lot quicker than what happens to me oof. that hits close to home. though Jakurai’s advice is. Questionable. Its not the best advice to give to someone but we have no idea what kind of doctor Jakurai is so ill let it slide

Jakurai’s pose looks like hes going to do a mahou shoujou transformation lmao

I don’t have many thoughts about the rap though again. How they visualize the rap is interesting. the different imagery is quite interesting for each of them and the typography is nice a distinct but im still on the fence about the visuals here

The sound is in the same boat. The sound effects either drown out the rap or are too quet but some parts are nice at least. When they talk about Tokyo’s beating heart, the heartbeat sound is a but distracting especially since its only played once. But the imagery is at least nice

I wonder if for the eds they’re going to take a similar approach to what Enstars did and have a four different endings, one for each division. I love the blend of styles here and it really accentuates that although they’re different they mesh well together.

Ramuda’s silhouette though is hilarious. Love it.

:p and thats it. Uh not bad for a first episode. Established all 12 characters really nicely and their dynamics. I had some problems with it but then again nothing is perfect. I look forward to what they show us next week

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis mic rhyme anima #hypnosis mic rythme anima spoilers #hypmic spoilers #my post

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Two: Chapter Three

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Mistface was jolted awake the next morning by a yowl of excitement. His face scrunched unpleasantly in irritation as loud chatter rose up just outside the entrance of the den he was in and battered his ears. He refused to get up. The nests in the houses were made of odd, soft material that smelled very alien, but were unarguably comfortable and kept in warmth beautifully. Even with the stone of the houses chilling their innards, Mistface was quite cozy.

But, alas, the commotion was continuing, and Mistface knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. He scowled, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh.” He heard Laurelclaw shift and get to his feet nearby. “New cats, it looks like. Well, maybe. Beetlefoot, are they new?”

“They are.” Beetlefoot was just as annoyed as Mistface, but significantly more awake. “And clearly very eager to be here.”

“Awful early to be yellin’ like that,” Mistface muttered into his nest.

“This is hardly early, the sun’s out.” Beetlefoot marched past him. “Where’s Greyleaf? He was here last night.”

“Went to talk to Redheart.” That was Darkpelt. She shifted and rose too. “Up with you, Mistface. We need to greet the newcomers.”

Mistface reduced the sigh he wanted to make into a slightly deep exhale and slowly got up. He shook out his thick fur out of habit, even though there weren’t any bits of grass or twigs to get stuck in it overnight. That was a rare luxury.

Beetlefoot was already standing outside, waiting for the other three to join him. Past him, a group of nearly ten cats walked together, some casually looking around at the Clast members or their homes, some chatting with each other.

It was very obvious who had yowled – a red-and-white tom was almost bouncing as he trotted along, blue eyes wide. He looked back at his companions with a wide grin.

“So now we get to meet this rebel deputy!” he said, with all the giddiness of a hyperactive apprentice getting to hunt their biggest prey yet.

A cat behind him had the exhaustion of the mentor of that apprentice, especially after chasing after them all day. “I still think you’re crazy. No one’s stupid enough to just declare themselves a rebel where the leaders can hear them.”

“And no one has.”

Every cat jolted to attention as Redheart emerged from the loosely gathered cats that had come to see the loud newcomers. Head high and eyes a little tired, she came to a stop in front of the patched tom and gave him a slow, single nod.

“You’ve come because of the rumors,” she said.

The tom wilted a bit under her gaze, but he kept up his merry attitude. “We all had to see if they were true. Cats leaving the Territory sounds really exciting.”

“You’re here just in time.” Redheart turned around. “I was about to make a morning speech.”

The Clast natives and the visitors slowly began to follow her towards a strange, small structure. It was like the houses, in that it was made of many rocks evenly spaced and neatly piled together, but it was round and short enough for Redheart to jump on and seat herself. Mistface guessed from how she was perched and the fact that her tail had disappeared that it was like a circular wall of some kind. Above it was rotting, flat wood angled upwards. It was impossible to say what it was originally for, but it served as a position for an authority figure to announce things from well enough.

Once everyone was sitting, or at least standing still, Redheart raised her chin and began.

“I wish to formally welcome everyone who has arrived here,” she said. “I’m very pleased to see that there is still curiosity and courage in this Clan, and that you have come for answers and a possible test of your worth as a warrior. I’ll say it now – yes, it is true that I have intentions of leaving the Territory. Before any of you leave or lose interest in this idea, I want to pose a few thoughts and questions for you to consider to yourself and with your companions.”

She paused and drew a breath. As she did, Mistface’s roaming eye caught his brother sitting in the shade of the structure, blending in with the stone around him. His expression was serious, but it was impossible to deduce what he was thinking. Mistface did not like this new pattern of not knowing his brother’s mind when it mattered most.

Redheart continued. “Our lives are easy here – too easy. Apprentices learn the most basic of skills before being named, never needing to achieve anything more than a swipe and a pounce, and we hardly even think about our elders’ needs when food walk in front of our noses, leaving them to hunt for themselves. Healers – you all know this – healers are treated with disdain for pursuing what we think of as a pointless role with a set of unnecessary skills. We speak scornfully of kittypets and their cushy lifestyles, but look at us. We grow fat and lazy, and we become fatter and lazier by the day. When was the last time any of us had to actually work for what we wanted, even for a brief moment? Kittypets are imprisoned by their masters, those creatures we call ‘humans’, and claim to be free. Meanwhile, we have the audacity to think of ourselves as so much better, but we don’t dare leave our borders of this Territory for fear of what lies beyond our oversized nursery den. Even the Plage and seers traveling to the Lighthouse to speak with our ancestors – even they don’t step off of the well-worn paths they’ve walked for generations.”

The gathered cats exchanged whispers and troubled looks. Mistface narrowed his eyes, but he was careful to say nothing to his neighbors, just watched Redheart as she regarded the cats below her. She spoke with a clear, controlled voice, and it was obvious she had practiced this speech a few times, but he couldn’t detect any obvious lies in her words. Actually, he realized disconcertedly, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“We are hardly warriors anymore.” Redheart’s voice was strangely grave. “We do not fight for our loved ones, or hunt with any skill, or mark our borders. Our forefathers were warriors. They knew what it was to stand on their own feet and earn what they wanted and needed. Back then, being part of a Clan meant something. What does it mean now? What truly separates us from kittypets and well-fed loners, on the most basic of levels?”

She was met with silence this time. An uneasy air shifted through the crowd.

It was hard to tell if she was satisfied with this. She simply concluded, “I want you all to think about that. Speak to each other. Start a discussion with your neighbors. Question what you think you know. And when the time comes, I hope that I will find you ready to come with me – ready to really be a warrior.”

With that, she stood up, moved around the wall’s edge, and jumped down smoothly where Greyleaf was sitting. He got to his feet and followed her closely as she parted the cats in her way.

Discussion did indeed start after that speech. It almost erupted, in fact; voices rang through the clearing as soon as she left her podium and cats quickly faced each other with shocked expressions, eager to dissect what they had just heard.

“I didn’t think it could’ve possibly been true,” a cat near Mistface remarked, almost in awe. “She’s got some stones to even suggest that!”

“I never really gave much thought to any of this,” his neighbor replied, sounding just as amazed. “She might have a point. An insane point, you know, but it is a point.”

Mistface restrained from making a face and looked to his right. Darkpelt was close by, looking deep in thought. He made his way over to her, thankful that she had settled a little ways apart from the bulk of the audience.

“So we know for sure what she’s doin’,” he murmured, standing next to her and watching where his brother had gone.

Darkpelt twitched her jaw forward and nodded. “Real interesting idea, isn’t it?”

Mistface realized quickly that she was pretending to be considering the option to leave for the sake of the cats around her. He shifted his face to mimic her contemplation. “Indeed. Dunno if I’d take that kinda life over one in here.”

Darkpelt hummed and stood up. “It’d be fun to see how we do, at least.”

Before Mistface could respond, she slightly leaned into him. From where she was, her mouth was right next to his ear without her having to turn her head.

“Look busy,” she whispered. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Mistface wasn’t sure what that was code for, but he nodded and said aloud, “I’ll see what Beetlefoot thinks.”

The two split up. Darkpelt walked away until she was a whisker-length from the nearest house and slunk off around its corner. She did not appear to be noticed by anyone. Mistface melted back into the now moving crowd, looking for his other two teammates.

---

Contrary to popular belief, being a blind spy was incredibly useful.

Darkpelt heard the mass of noise behind her quickly fade as she walked along the house. When she felt air at her side, she knew she had passed the stone structure. She could smell that she was still in the camp, and, more importantly, that Redheart had been nearby.

It was quite easy to be stealthy, even out in the open. Cats with sight never seemed to notice what was in front of them. Blindness was also an excellent excuse for when someone did catch her – she could just pretend that she was lost and looking for assistance. They always bought it. It was hilarious.

Now, however, there were no cats around her. From yesterday’s exploration, she gathered that the settlement’s community only spread out towards noon, when the prey-pile ran low and it was time to hunt or find something else to do (which was, true to the stereotype, usually fighting). She had a bit of time before she needed to get back to her novice crew and pretend all was well.

Nose raised, she moved quickly, turning immediately when the scent of the deputy went left or right. She heard soft footsteps and someone settle into a nest, and she stopped just before she bumped into a house. The door was to her left, so she carefully scooted back a little to the right and tucked herself against the wall, ears swiveling to catch the soft conversation inside.

“I mean, I think it went well.” That was Greyleaf. It was a marvel how very unlike he was to his brother, right down to his voice. Mistface had a low, smooth drawl that sounded almost too bored to even be coming out of his mouth; Greyleaf’s voice trembled and sounded significantly younger, like it was scared to make itself heard. “I heard them all when we left. They sound excited and surprised.”

“I hope so.” Redheart was deeper and even as low as it was now, it commanded attention. “I’m worried I scared some cats off.”

“We knew that was a risk.” Greyleaf’s tail swished across the floor. “It’s just the first step. Hopefully, if they do leave, they can tell other cats who might be interested, and we can get more out quicker.”

“It’s going to be a long process no matter what,” Redheart said. “And Snowshine will be eager to cut us off as soon as possible. We have to be careful, especially around her.”

“Yeah…” Greyleaf was still for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “My mother will be coming with us, right?”

“Of course.” Redheart’s voice turned almost gentle. “Even if we have to carry her out, kicking and screaming, on our backs.”

Greyleaf sighed a short laugh, and the two fell silent. Darkpelt waited a minute to see if they would talk again. When they didn’t, she walked off, careful to make her steps completely silent. Luckily, there were no leaves or grass to stir up noise, so she padded along on the stone back to the noisy clearing.

Darkpelt was happy to not have to measure her distance from the crowd to circle around it and find the team. Laurelclaw was close enough to be heard when he said, “Oh, there she is.”

“Save some prey for me?” she asked casually, heading towards the voice.

“Yeah, actually.” Mistface was laying down, from the position of his voice. “Laurelclaw insisted on gettin’ you a bird.”

“They’re really tasty around here!” Laurelclaw said, like this was something to defend himself over. “They’re not as good on the coast. Very, um… what’s the word… salty.”

“Saltiness is disgusting.” Beetlefoot was the furthest away, but he was definitely close enough to overhear a quiet conversation. “I don’t know how you tolerate it.”

“Happens when you grow up flopping around in the ocean,” Darkpelt replied breezily. She sniffed out the bird and pulled it close to her. “Thanks, big guy. I do like the birds in this part of the valley.”

Laurelclaw somehow emanated delight enough that she could feel it from here. “Happy to help.”

“Find out anything?” Mistface muttered. He was across from Darkpelt.

Darkpelt sat down closer, and she felt the other two toms join her. In a low voice, she said, “Snowshine is a cat of interest. From what Redheart said, she’s going to be heavily opposed to whatever the extent of their plan is. Mistface, I think you can find her and talk to her. I need to keep on the downlow.”

“If I must,” said Mistface, not sounding nearly as badgered about it as he was probably trying to. “What else?”

“This plan is long-term,” Darkpelt went on. A cat walked past, and she waited for them to be gone before continuing. “They sound like they want to get as many cats out as possible. StarClan knows why. I’m suspecting they might make return trips to get more members of their little group.”

“That’s not good,” Laurelclaw whispered. “Should we send a message to the leaders?”

“Not quite yet.” Darkpelt could smell Beetlefoot near her and looked in his direction. “I want us to get some information out of this Snowshine first. You, boyo, are going to watch the perimeter and see when it’s least occupied. That’ll be your prime time to speak with the patrol.”

Beetlefoot, surprisingly, simply harrumphed an affirmative. Something meaty made a peeling sound; she figured he was eating his prey.

“What do you want me to do?” Laurelclaw had a tone like he was anxious about not being helpful.

“Keep me within your eyesight,” Darkpelt said. “I’m a hapless blind molly and I’ll probably bump into lots of cats. Might start a fight on accident, yadda yadda, you know how it goes. You need to watch me and help me out when I get particularly lost and clumsy.” She turned to him and winked. “A big cat around these parts is a good meat shield.”

“I can do that.” It was funny how earnestly upbeat he was about being assigned to such a useless task. “Maybe that’ll keep me from having to fight anyone!”

“You will have to tussle at some point, Laurelclaw,” Mistface said. “We’ll be gettin’ questions if you don’t.”

Laurelclaw sighed with such melancholy that Darkpelt laughed out loud, to which he responded with a sheepish chuckle. With that, everyone returned to their prey. Nothing more was said for the rest of the meal.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter three #dullard #redheart #greyleaf #mistface #laurelclaw #darkpelt #beetlefoot

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sugihana-trans · 4 years

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“Aokute, Itakute, Moroi” Chapter One

So the publisher actually released the first chapter of "Aokute, Itakute, Moroi" online for free as a trial read, so I thought it would be alright for me to share it here.

DISCLAMER: This is not the official English translation. I did it myself, and it`s not for profit.

Source

“We became adults without forgetting that season.”

All actions has the possibility of causing discomfort to the other person.

That’s what I’ve thought for the past 18 years right up until high school graduation, and have decided to make it my life’s motto as a freshman in University. In other words, don’t get too close to people and try not to speak out against someone else’s opinion. Doing so will reduce the chances of me offending someone, which then reduces the chances of me getting hurt by someone who was offended.

That’s why when I first met Akiyoshi Hisano at the University, I thought that there really are people in the world who are this presumptuous, foolish and slow, and secretly ridiculed her inside.

It was the second Monday of my first year at University. After we’ve picked our courses, we were to begin regularly attending classes starting this week. On a day when college students are supposed to be at their most motivated, I was sitting by myself at the end of the auditorium, not belonging to any circles (*clubs) or joining any freshman recreational activities. In my own way, I wanted a quiet college life.

It was 3rd period, General Education, Peace and Conflict Studies I‌ think. I was flipping through the textbook while waiting, when the professor eventually went up to the podium quietly, and then the room with only freshmen inside became quiet and solemn.

However, during a class which requires an unexperienced 90 minutes of concentration, the students’ minds naturally started relaxing. A buzzing auditorium; I wondered if the professors are already used to it every year as the class proceeded without paying extra attention.

I was probably also zoning out since I’m the type who, in the first place, couldn’t even keep my concentration during classes in highschool. So being in this 90 mins class which seemed to go on forever under a fine spring weather, I never thought I’ll spend the next four years without ever getting rid of that sensation.

The class immediately got boring. I looked outside the window at the end of my seat. The laughter of students without classes and the sound of birds were fusing together with the sunlight.

Then disrupting such a beautiful moment, while I was resting my chin on one hand and my head was down, I heard that voice.

“Excuse me, can I ask a question?”

A loud and lively voice, echoing in the quiet auditorium. Everyone woke up and looked around for the owner of the voice. I was just as interested, but I didn’t have to look around. Because I heard the voice coming from a girl who was one seat away from my seat to the right. Stealing a glance, the girl was sitting up straight with her right hand raised up towards the ceiling as if showing off her own courteousness.

I wasn’t listening to the lecture so I‌ thought the professor had asked for questions. Beyond the girl’s strong gaze however, “I will accept your questions later,” the elderly professor just prompted her to lower her hand with a bored face. Watching her carefully with one eye, I could see that although the girl slowly lowered her hand, she showed such a dissatisfied expression that it must’ve been seen from the podium as well. When the professor said, “But it’s fine now too,” the girl’s expression became lively and she expressed her gratitude in a voice which reached the whole auditorium.

If you think about it, a girl displaying an unthinkable idea to ordinary students, discussing with the professor, the University having such an amazing person, it could’ve been an interesting memory for me as a college student. Then, I’m sure it would’ve just ended there.

But it didn’t.

“I don’t think violence is necessary in this world.”

She started her questioning with those words, as if borrowing a phrase from someone virtuous, like something you learned in a moral class at elementary school. It was kind of embarrassing to hear.

Is this what you call an idealist? After listening to her talk, the professor didn’t bother hiding his scorn and said, “Everyone knows it would be nice if it’s like that.” From inside the auditorium, I heard small voices saying, “wow,” “what was that,” “ouch.” I didn’t imagine them.

The girl shut up after the humiliating conversation with the professor, and even though everyone seems to entirely ignore her existence, the class moved on while still wearing that atmosphere of having ridiculed someone.

I sent her a look again after that, not because I was interested in what someone who interrupts a class to announce their personal opinion would look like. Secretly, it was just funny to see the sullen face of the person who got shot down after making that stupid speech.

So when I glanced at her expression sitting sideways, it wasn’t disappointing, but I was surprised. Because she had a hurt look on her face. I turned towards the front like I’ve been shocked.

I’ve seen similar behavior from other people like her in junior high and highschool before, with that same thought pattern. At any rate, they’re the type of people who only believe in their own words, can’t read their surroundings, and gets taken for an idiot. That’s why it was unexpected when she didn’t show a bad mood from being rejected which is typical for that kind of human being.

Even if I didn’t want to get involved, I’m sure I was interested in her face at that time.

Nevertheless, because that interest was only at the same level as hearing some strange music downtown, it didn’t matter to me anymore by the time the chime rang.

I submitted the one-word evaluation questionnaire confirming my attendance and left my seat. I didn’t have any 4th period classes on Mondays so I decided to head to the cafeteria for a late lunch.

There were already people here at the campus dining room. In a place where I’m still getting used to a new environment, I got the daily set meal on a tray, took a seat by the window in a table for four people, placed my hands together then raised the miso soup to my mouth.

“Hey, are you alone?”

A voice that has nothing to do with you tends to just blend in with the other background noises. Naturally at that time, I didn’t think I was being called so I put a piece of fried white fish in my mouth. It made a nice crunching sound as I bit into it before accidentally dropping it back on the plate in surprise when my shoulder was suddenly poked.

I raised my face while still holding my chopsticks, and was once again surprised. It was the cringey girl I sat next to in the previous class, standing in front of me now with a tray of cutlet curry.

“Hey, are you alone?”

She repeated her question, which made me realized the words from before were definitely aimed at me.

“Oh, uh.”

I didn’t understand why I was being spoken to. There was no need to lie though, so I nodded for the time being. She showed her teeth while smiling, and sat down with her tray in front of me.

“I sat next to you in the previous class. I’m also by myself, so is it alright if I join you?”

Seriously? I thought. Aside from that demeanor which she uses to express her opinions in class, I’m afraid she might also have too much useless self-confidence.

What I couldn’t reject was one of my life’s themes. More than avoiding people, I often put more weight on not going against the opinion of the other person, and that was how I felt on that day. Nothing else.

“Y, yes.”

I used formal speech considering the possibility that she might be a senior. I thought that auditorium only had freshmen, but I could actually be her junior from the way she speaks so casually. And what causes her to suddenly try and have a meal with someone she doesn't even know like it’s normal might not only be because of her cringey personality. I wondered if she was actually a senior student who just have a lot of spare time in her college life.

“You can speak casually, you’re a first-year right?”

“Eh?”

“Huh, are you perhaps a senior?”

Seeing her stick out her little tongue and widen her eyes in surprise gave me the feeling that she was indeed a cringey person. It would’ve been nice to run away, but I didn’t want to lie so I just shook my head.

“No, I’m a first-year”

“Ah! I’m glad! I ended up freaking out, rushing to start off my college life.”

She placed a hand on her chest, and expressed her relief exaggeratedly with a breath. I wondered if that was her “rushing” in the previous class.

“Oh, I apologize for being so sudden, but I still don’t know anyone yet. I was feeling anxious when I saw you, and since we sit next to each other in class, I came to talk to you. I’m sorry, were you bothered?”

I was bothered.

“No, it’s alright.”

“Ahh thats good, um, I’m Akiyoshi Hisano.”

A self-introduction right away, I thought, a person with high self-esteem.

“I’m in the Department of Politics, are you as well?”

“No, I’m in the Department of Commerce.”

“I see. Can I ask your name?”

A question I can’t refuse.

“Ah, it’s Tabata.”

“Tabata-kun, although it’s sudden, it’s nice to meet you.”

Akiyoshi bowed her head. Her trimmed hair falling around her shoulders. I also bowed my head along with her. Whenever an unexpected event occurs, it’s usually better to just go along with it.

“By the way, what is Tabata-kun’s first name?”

“……Uhh.”

I hesitated to speak. It’s not like she did anything wrong by asking this very common question.

It’s a personal matter, but I hated my first name. If it was a handsome guy for example, he might be proud of having a name that’s too beautiful. On the other hand, if the gap between that beautiful name and the person’s inferior looks are too far apart, it might be funny. I was hesitant to say my own name which was halfway between the two and didn’t suit me. But of course, I didn’t have the courage to ignore questions from people.

“Kaede……”

And of course, this complex didn’t really matter from the perspective of the other person.

“Tabata Kaede-kun. An area in a rice field?”

“Ah, the edge.”

Akiyoshi took out a cellphone from her shoulder bag, played around with it and then put it back in her bag. The bag’s strap was digging into her shoulders.

“I made a note of it~”

With squinted eyes, she smiled showing her teeth, picked up her spoon and took a bite of the cutlet curry like it was a long-awaited treat. After seeing that, I looked away and went back to eating the fried fish on my plate again.

“I got so hungry in class, my belly was rumbling. Did you maybe hear it?”

“Oh, no.”

I didn’t care.

“That’s good. I usually eat a lot more than this, but not as much as Tabata-kun.”

“Quite healthy.”

“A habit from when I played soccer in highschool. I wonder if I should eat less now though.”

In other words, it seems she didn’t come from a strong school that emphasized wins and losses. Deciding to reduce her eating means she probably doesn’t intend to play soccer in University.

“Tabata-kun, do you play any sports? Oh, sorry for asking so many questions.”

Considerate, or at least someone who tries to be. Taking into account what happened in class before, I had imagined she was the type of person who will rudely invade someone’s space, but she seems to be treading carefully for the time being.

“No, it’s alright. I didn’t do much sports when I was in highschool.”

“Culture club?”

“Going-home club.”

“Are you not planning on joining anything in University too?”

“Maybe, seems like it. Ah, how about Akiyoshi-san?”

“I’m thinking of joining something, but there are so many circles including the unofficial ones that I’m a bit lost. I am a bit interested in something like a simulated United Nations though.”

“A simulated UN?”

“Yes yes, it’s amazing,” Akiyoshi responded, using that introduction as a platform to explain the simulated United Nations to me.

To summarize Akiyoshi’s story, it seems like the simulated UN was a club activity that tries to imitate the United Nations, where people who are interested in international issues gather together as representatives of various countries. I see, I was starting to understand her personality a little bit more.

“What do you think of it, Tabata-kun?”

“It feels like a difficult TRPG.”

There was no reason to denounce or affirm this simulated UN so I thought of saying something that doesn’t do either one. This time though, it was Akiyoshi’s turn to repeat my words, “TRPG?” In a similar flow as before, I couldn’t help but to explain TRPG, trying to keep the concept as simple as possible.

“I think it’s similar to a game where like, everyone kinda takes on a role, and so on.”

“Eh! Sounds interesting! I would love to be the hero.”

As if imitating a sword, Akiyoshi held the curry spoon in front of me. I wasn’t expecting her to react that happily, so I was surprised.

“You’re right, the simulated UN might actually be something like that. If you’re interested, would you like to check it out or join together?”

“Eh, um, no, sorry.”

I refused after being invited, and whether or not I looked sorry didn’t matter because I didn’t even want to be sorry.

That being said, declining her offer slightly went against my life’s theme, but of course, she wouldn’t know anything about my inner feelings. With a smile, she said “Hmm, it’s completely alright. I’m sorry about all of this so suddenly,” and placed her hands together in front of her chest. She seems to understand the merits and demerits of her own personality though, which gave me a good impression. Just a little bit.

“No, um, personally, it’s not that I‌ dislike you.”

“Really? I’m glad. I’m the sort of person who gets easily charmed.”

I thought so too, but she didn’t look like the type to care about that because of her cheerfulness, so the relief she showed was surprising. I also figured girls like her tend to know their place, and just follow along according to how the rest of her group feels.

I don’t know if it’s because I said I‌ didn’t dislike her, but it seemed to have made Akiyoshi feel better. This time, she didn’t stop and asked me a lot of questions. I‌ answered to some extent, and got her information in exchange.

Originally from Ibaraki prefecture, active enrollment, living alone, applied for a cram school part-time job, likes shounen manga and Asian Kung-Fu Generation.

She seems like a regular person if you just listen to this information, but because that behavior in class was my first impression, I unfortunately saw everything about her through a cringey filter. And I‌ didn’t bother fixing that warped viewpoint. I‌ thought it wasn’t necessary.

“Then, see you later.”

The classroom for my next class was far so I stood up first and waved at her. “Yeah later” she replied, though I didn’t actually think there would be a “later.” I’m not being a cruel person.

People like Akiyoshi are the type who can talk to anyone, and will soon find someone else better to talk to while forgetting about the person they used in the meantime. I‌’ve been used in similar situations several times before, and understand it’s something that can’t be helped.

That’s why I didn’t think I’ll have a “later” with Akiyoshi, and thought it unnecessary to understand her properly.

However.

I‌ didn’t have to wait for next Monday. During 4th period on Friday, in a classroom fit for 50 people, sitting with a good posture was Akiyoshi who waved her hand at me as I‌ entered from the front of the classroom. She was sitting at the very back by the window, and moved closer next to me.

“Good morning. It’s been awhile, Tabata-kun.”

“Uh, yeah, so you were taking this class too.”

“Right, I‌ also didn’t realize.”

Anyways, I sat down while thinking whether Akiyoshi’s friends were also coming. I‌ wondered whether I‌ should’ve moved.

But i‌t seems I‌ didn’t need to be that considerate.

Akiyoshi happily talked to me about getting that cram school part-time job until the chime rang. It looked like she didn’t make any other acquaintances around her.

When the class started, Akiyoshi stopped chatting and looked straight ahead. I wasn’t as serious, but I‌ also turned to face forward and listen to the lecture. Vaguely in my mind, with this person called Akiyoshi, I‌ thought about whether a “later” existed with her.

I didn’t have to think about it after all. About an hour after the class started, I‌ was able to learn one of the most significant reason amongst my many reasons.

I‌ heard a voice.

“Excuse me, can I ask a question?”

This time as well, I didn’t have to search for the owner of that voice. Seriously? I thought. Once again, I‌ was next to the person but this time, I knew that voice.

I‌ looked to the side, and Akiyoshi was raising her hand just like that time.

The professor was kinder to Akiyoshi compared to the previous one. “Oh, alright. You paid for tuition so you’re a part of this class. What is it?” he asked, forgiving her disruption.

“Thank you very much.”

I could guess what Akiyoshi was going to say after, but I‌ regretted making that prediction when it came true.

With child-like idealism, she spoke with a voice that echoed throughout the classroom, once again posing her own personal opinions as questions.

I didn’t secretly ridicule her this time. However, I‌ was stunned. Although it was just a little bit, I‌ had thought she was a normal person back in the cafeteria.

But I‌ wasn’t the only one who was surprised. From somewhere, I‌ heard something unbelievable.

“How many times is it now?” they said.

I understood what that meant, and felt dread.

No way, is this person doing it in other classes as well……?

I‌ never thought I’d have to change my perception on Akiyoshi.

She wasn’t a cringey person, she was bad news.

Someone I shouldn’t get involved with.

I‌ pretended to take the class seriously, and didn’t try to look at the face of this crazy person sitting next to me. I see, so that’s why no one approached her and she talked to me as if we`re friends. In other words, compared to me, the others were more vigilant towards this dangerous person.

What the heck, will it be like this from now on? I‌ started thinking of ways to escape, glancing sideways at Akiyoshi who was being rebuked by the professor, now wearing a bitter smile just like the previous professor.

For the moment, I’ve decided to just simply run away. I stood up as soon as class ended, submitted my evaluation questionnaire which I’ve already written during class, and left without seeing Akiyoshi. This should be a temporary relief. Next Monday when I’ll have to meet her again for class, I’ll go in just before it begins and sit right away, and do the same with the class just now. While doing that, Akiyoshi should forget all about me. I mean, there are so many people here in the University.

I didn’t see a reason why it had to be me.

Despite all that, I didn`t understand why she would run and follow after me.

~~~

#sugisaki hana #yoshizawa ryo #aokute itakute moroi #sugihana trans

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things-we-used-tc-share · 4 years

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I Found

“I’ll use you as a warning sign,

That if you talk enough sense then you’ll lose your mind,

And I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be,

Right in front of me,

Talk some sense to me,”

-Amber Run, I Found

Written for the “Song Prompt” Event on my Discord server.

Warnings: Mentions of ableism (Autism-orientated)

Ship: Remile

Plot: Remy finds life too repetitive, but a thunder storm and a pretty boy might be the change he’s looking for. (Autistic!Emile)

Remy stares up at the sky like it’ll offer something new, something different today. It never does, but one can only dream and hope and pray for something new. His eyes avert and he continues walking o work, his satchel banging against his thigh incessantly; he’s used to this and pays it no mind at all. As he pushes open the café door, the pink-haired barista grins at him “Morning Remy!” Remy smiles, it’s not so bad of a routine.

“Morning Emile,” The two exchange a small smile, and Remy goes into the back to put his bag down, grab his apron and start with his long day.

The day goes by as slow as it always does. The sun sets in the cold winter night, the rain dashes lightly against dark windows and the water on the streets is illuminated by ghostly white streetlights. Remy leans against the counter after serving his last customer and then sighs heavily. Surely, he thinks, there is more to life than this? Because this is simply no fun at all. A stressed hand cards through his mussed curls, there’s a little bit of sugar that lands on his hand from his hair, it’s something he’s done so many times before that it’s stopped being amusing.

“Hey Emile?” He calls over his shoulder “Will you sort out the register, I’m going to start clearing the tables?” The smaller man, whose hair is still the brightest pink he’s ever seen (Remy thinks he probably dyes it regularly, which is possibly terriblefor his hair), nods enthusiastically and moves to clear out the cash register. He always looks too chipper, and that’s all right, one of them has to be for their job.

Remy picks up the cloth and locks the door once he’s checked every one has left, slipping the sign to ‘closed’ before he starts to wipe down the tables. He follows his repetitive movements dazedly; barely present as he does so, he does this almost every day too, wiping down tables and mopping floors and serving cups of coffee. He’s not miserable, simply…tiredof repetition. The sound of thunder outside startles him a little, his eyes going outside to see the rain has truly started to hammer it down. Remy makes a noise of discomfort, or maybe it’s disgust or inconvenience, or maybe all at once, either way he stares as the water bounces off the floor in full force. “Wonderful weather for the ducks don’t you think?” Emile quips with a light chuckle, the cash register shutting.

“I don’t think even the ducks will brave that,” Remy pushes his glasses up his nose, stylish hipster-esque frames that had cost way more than his pay check allows. Emile laughs in response and it’s a nice sound, something different in Remy’s monotonous life. He even dares to smile a little back. “I think I’d rather sleep in here than step a foot out there,” He snorts, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to check the weather report “It should calm down in about half an hour so there’s that,”

“Every time I go near water after I’ve just dyed my hair it runs, and although I’ve not tested it on cold water I really don’t want to look like a murder victim, so I daren’t try it,” Remy wonders why they hadn’t spoken more before, they have most of their shifts together, he thinks Emile might be a student too but it’s a little difficult to remember if he’d ever asked. So he asks.

“Are you a student too?” And Emile smiles wonderfully, excitedly even, the sort of smile people get when they’re offered a question they love answering, or get to talk about something they adore.

“Yep! I’m currently doing my undergraduate in Psychology,” It’s hard to imagine this man as a serious mental health professional. He’s wearing a shirt under his apron that has little Jigglypuff’s pasted over and over again in diagonal patterns, and a charm bracelet that has a little pink pearl. “I really enjoy it, Human minds are…so fascinating and complex yet so easily damaged, I’m currently writing my dissertation on Anxiety disorders and their severities and why there is currently and increase and…sorry I’m rambling,” His cheeks flush as pink as his hair, or at least close to that.

Remy’s heart stammers in his chest. “No it’s fine,” He manages out; throat feeling suddenly tootight as do his lungs, in fact all rational thought seems vaguely distant now. He never wants this man to stop talking, why hadn’t he spoken to him beforeis an even more pressing matter? “Tell me all about it,” And suddenly work is something for someone else and his life belongs to someone else as he leans against the table.

Emile beams as though he doesn’t get told that often, this is heart breaking in its own right. “Well, I was diagnosed with Autism when I was super young and then as I got older I was diagnosed with Anxiety, which most stemmed from developmental issues influenced by how other people treated my Autism,” Remy nods “And it’s always super effected me, you know? People always either treated me like glass or ignored my existence or just were plain awful to me over it, and no matter how hard I tried sometime sit felt like they were speaking a different language to me, so I grew up isolated,” Remy’s eyes softened, but not out of pity, he thinks his only other emotion would be anger because why would people treat other people like that? He can’t understand it. “When I first started learning psychology it was because I wanted to help myself but now I just don’t want other people to feel like me, like I did for so long,”

“That’s admirable,” Remy says softly “I’m sorry people treated you like that, that’s…shit that sucks man,” Emile laughs a little, glad he’s not getting a pity speech “I could totally kick their asses for you,” He folds the cloth neatly in his hand, Emile’s eyes follow the movement briefly.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” He smiles though “What made you chose that colour?” He gestures to Remy’s nails, the paint is a little chipped but it’s clearly black and sparkly. “You wear a lot of black, sometimes people in psychology say people who don’t wear colour often see themselves as lacking it, but I just think people think black is a nice colour, and it is,”

“Just suits my aesthetic,” Remy shrugs “Although you might be onto something,” He leans up off the counter to put the cloth away. There’s some moments of silence and Remy can feel Emile’s eyes watching him carefully, like a birdwatcher sat so still so they can study a rare species of some sorts. “I feel like you have a question you want to ask?” The dark-eyed man speaks quietly, but his voice comes out at a much higher pitch to that which he had planned to speak. His cheeks flush a little, and he looks up at Emile, who looks like a deer caught in the headlights. “Go on,”

“Are you gay?” Emile blurts out and then clasps his hand over his mouth “Oh gosh that was totally meant to stay in my head, that is not how I planned to ask you out at all,” He rubs his hand against his forehead in a little stress, Remy smiles in amusement as he begins to ramble “I was going to play it cool and just you know, drop a casual hint and then see if you take it, or ask you if you want coffee or something or,” Remy places his hand lightly on Emile’s wrist, Emile trails off and blinks.

“I’m gay, and yes,”

“Yes?”

“I’ll get coffee with you,” His eyes go to the outside, where the rain is still hammering “in fact, there’s no time like the present,” He taps the coffee machine, which is still not turned off, then takes a cup for himself, and one for Emile off of the side “May I take your order?” `Emile smiles at him, biting his lip shyly.

“Are you on the menu?” He flirts lightly, Remy’s heart stutters a little and his cheeks feel so warm and honestly, he cannotstop smiling. This was the something different he’d been praying for, it’s a little funny how change can come from something right in front of you, that had been in front of you for months. Almost a year, in fact.

“Maybe later,” Remy winks, fighting down a part of his that is so flustered and blushing and squealing like a teenager. It feels strange, to have known Emile for so long and not even realised or noticed that he was interested in him. Remy hadn’t quite noticed Emile at all, now he thinks that was a dumb thing to do because he sounds like a dream and looks so pretty and he’s really, really nice. Nice men aren’t something so common in Remy’s life at all.

“In the meantime I suppose I’ll have a caramel latte, with cream,” Remy sets about preparing the order “I feel like you might have questions and that’s okay you know, you’re allowed to ask me about my Autism,” Emile continues, leaning against the counter “You have my explicit permission to do so,”

Remy thinks about this for a moment, he knows very little about Autism, but it also doesn’t feel far to treat Emile like a research book “What do you need me to avoid?” He finally settles on, placing the warm cup next to Emile, as the barista hops up on the counter.

“Oh,” he sounds surprised “Well I don’t like sudden loud noises, I’m learning to cope with sensory overload because of…well because of my job,” That hardly sounds fair, Remy narrates internalising, that Emile has to force himself to cope with these things and can’t have his own way to do so. “But in general I pretty much always have headphones,” He shrugs a little “Sometimes I don’t like being touched but I can tell you when that is, if you really want to…you know, hang out more?”

“Okay,” Remy nods “Is there anything you need me to know?” Emile makes a small noise of disbelief.

“You’re strange,” He comments “Most people don’t ask questions like this,”

“What sort of questions do people usually ask?” He honestly isn’t sure of the answer.

“Usually much more invasive ones,” Emile admits with an uncomfortable and…sadlook “Or they treat me like a child,” Remy feels like he’s missing out on a lot of information on how autistic people are treated in the world. He’d always assumed things to be more progressive, but if the look on this man’s face is anything to go off, it most certainly hadn’t. “Sometimes they ask things like ‘is it okay for you to be outside alone?’ or ‘If you’re autistic how come you work?’ or ‘How come you don’t look or sound autistic?’ my favourite so far is ‘Do autistic people have sex, isn’t that kind of…weird?’” he kicks his leg a little, letting the heels tap back against the wood a few times.

Remy blinks a few times “I’m sorry Emile, I don’t really know what to say but…I’m so sorry people treat you like that, that’s a fucking nightmare, you have way more patience than I do,” Emile smiles, looking up at Remy with a small smile.

“I have to be patient, or else people use it against me because of my Autism, or people use it against other people with Autism, we’re not allowed to be angry or have meltdowns or we’re branded as dangerous,” He sips his cup of coffee “Ever noticed how a lot of school shooters are ‘hypothesised to be Autistic?’” Remy’s blood runs cold in his veins. “You look horrified,”

“I don’t really keep up with the news, or really anything except walking to work, doing work, eating and going to bed, always figured the world would sort itself out or it’d die in the process,” Maybe this is also the change he’s looking for “I should do some more research,” he thinks aloud, staring at the surface of his coffee cup, in the process he completely misses the way Emile’s face lights up. “Would you like to keep talking about this, or something else?”

“Well I would, but not right now, I’m too tired to be this sad,” Emile looks up at Remy with a small and less melancholy smile. He feels happy despite the conversation, to finally have met someone who cares enough to listen and ask. “Let’s talk about something else,”

And they do talk. They talk way past the time that the rain slows, they talk way past the calming of the thunderstorm which had been why they talked in the first place. They talk until Emile is leaning tiredly against Remy, and Remy is feeling his heartbeat thunder in his chest louder than any storm, and more forceful at that.

Remy calls Emile a cab, worried that he’s practically falling asleep standing. He gives him his number though, although he’ll see him tomorrow evening for the two hour shift they have like clockwork every Thursday. They’re both working much more than they legally should. Emile kisses his cheek and says he’ll see Remy tomorrow.

Remy says he can’t wait.

For the first time in a long time he feels like he has a sense of purpose, a sense of will and of need. Life doesn’t feel like a dull rhythm as he walks home with a smile on his face and a little skip in his step. Yes,he decides, it is strange what just looking a little closer can do to your life.

Like my work? Consider buying me a virtual coffee!

Taglist:

@analogical-mess // @unikornavenger // @mycatshuman // @creativity-killed-thekitten// @theresneverenoughfandoms // @charmingprincey // @heck-im-lost// @k9cat // @stilljittery // @romansleftshoulderpad // @sanderssideslibrary // @max-is-tired // @trashypansexual // @demigodnamedathena // @sevencrashing // @jemthebookworm // @sandersandthesides // @penguinkool // @georganabanana // @ao-koshka // @dangerous-doodle // @hell-or-high-waters // @no-sleep-gang-posts // @marshmallow-the-panda // @flix-net // @omni-hamiltrash // @an-absolute-failure // @mason-does-a-thing // @iceoblivious // @fandermom //

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#Remile #ts sides #ts shorts #emile picani #Remy Sanders

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quinnybee-writes · 4 years

Text

Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 3/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 3 Summary: Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and thrice is just a big headache for everyone involved.

Part 1 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on AO3

Hizashi gave the IT intern a tight but friendly smile as she waved to him before going to check on the status of the server migration. He hated having to do delicate research like this at work; every time one of his coworkers needed something in the room he shared with the server banks he couldn’t help jumping to attention, his hand poised on the lid of his laptop to snap it shut if they wandered too close. The cover it provided him was mostly worth the anxiety, however. A single IP using a VPN in the middle of an apartment block full of unsecured cable company wifi signals was suspicious; another VPN added to the tangle of secure signals emanating from a tech-heavy operation like a radio station was just another Tuesday. Hizashi waited for the intern to finish her checks before going back to what he’d been looking at before he was interrupted.

As far as he was able to find in the HR filings for Solo-Falcon Deliveries they only had one employee named Aizawa, first name Shouta. The photo that accompanied the digitized CV was younger-looking but the man was recognizable nonetheless; same perpetual look of knowing what a hairbrush was in concept but no evidence of him owning one, same dour, “are we done yet?” expression in his dark eyes. Said CV was as barebones as Hizashi had ever seen: eight years at Solo-Falcon Deliveries preceded by a plethora of short term post-middle school jobs; school transcripts from a dozen different private tutors that came to a sudden stop at the end of middle school. His permanent residence had been the same for as long as Aizawa had been working, cosigned by an adult family member with the stipulation that the lease would pass to Aizawa when he turned eighteen. As far as Hizashi could tell Shouta Aizawa had popped out of nothingness as a poe-faced fifteen-year-old looking for a job.

Trying to get any answers out of social media was equally fruitless. Retracing Aizawa’s online steps revealed a ghost town of abandoned accounts in his wake, all following the same pattern of non-use. He would sign up for a new platform, friend or follow one or two other accounts, make half a dozen posts over the course of about a year, then drop it completely without bothering to deactivate or delete. The posts were all the kind of non-entities one could expect out of someone who wasn’t expecting to stick around for very long. Even on the accounts he’d used the most they mostly consisted of inoffensive comments about the weather or work and slightly blurry cell phone pictures of cats.

Even the government seemed to have no luck in catching ahold of Aizawa longer than the time it took to confirm his address, collect his taxes, and send him back on his way. According to his Quirk registration, Aizawa had been something of an early bloomer, developing his nullification power before he even hit kindergarten and being switched from public schooling to private education soon afterwards for reasons of “health concerns”. Elementary and middle school records matched the near-yearly swapping of home tutors from his CV, but Hizashi noticed with interest that there was one massive omission between the two. Several records back in the Quirk registry’s access history was a request from the registrar of UA High School to confirm Aizawa’s personal and Quirk information. Raising an eyebrow Hizashi flipped back to Aizawa’s schooling history and found a perfunctory footnote at the bottom of the file: UA High School registration Apr 2004-Nov 2004; file sealed per subject request. Nothing else was said, just that short “by the way” on a digital post-it note before going on to document the work history and financial filings Hizashi already knew about.

Either Aizawa was some kind of subterfuge wunderkind or he really was just this disconnected. Hizashi sighed and leaned back in his chair, turning that over in his mind. A sealed UA record was as tantalizing a morsel of intrigue as you could ask for, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could go up against a security system as ironclad as theirs with nothing but a masked IP and an undeniable curiosity. There were favors he could call in, Hizashi supposed, people he could ask. Said people would want something equally backbreaking in return as insurance on their investments but that could be relegated to a date far in the future where he had the information in hand and could gauge its actual worth for himself.

Before he had time to start flipping through his mental address book, however, he was interrupted by a buzzing from his cell phone. The display showed an unlisted number being forwarded through his “business line”, a landline he’d had installed in a condemned fast food restaurant on the far edge of the city. Hizashi glanced at his door to make sure it was fully shut before swiping to accept the call.

“Mmn,” he muttered by way of greeting. There was a click, and an automated voice on the other end began to speak in choppy, text-to-speech sentences.

“Bird. Seguchi. Your backdoor into the Hero Registry failed.” Hizashi rolled his eyes. Of course he was the problem, it couldn’t possibly be that Seguchi's client was incompetant. “You owe me a workable solution, do it right this time. Meet tonight at nine sharp, no later. Directions to follow.” The message barked out the address and Hizashi scribbled it disinterestedly onto the back of an envelope. It looked like his pet project would have to take a backseat for something more pressing but way less interesting, he thought with a disappointed sigh.

Biting back a curse, Shouta stared daggers at the bland error box telling him he didn’t have the proper access clearance for the files he needed. He’d spent most of the morning trying to fake the new set of credentials the police database was requiring to view the updated version of the Mockingbird dossier. The security had never been what you could call lax, but the newest version required both the highest clearance level Shouta had ever seen as well as a password that from what he’d been able to glean was just a long randomly-generated string of characters that maxed out the number of available spaces. He gritted his teeth and decided the building headache at the back of his skull was telling him he needed to switch to something a little less frustrating, though such things felt thin on the ground at the moment.

Trying to reconcile the comings and goings of Hizashi Yamada with the known Mockingbird incidents was proving to be an exercise in futility. Yamada didn’t necessarily have an alibi for every time Mockingbird had been sighted in the act, but there was also no real reason for anyone to suspect him of needing one. Mockingbird was a serial offender with a list of potential charges that took up several single-spaced pages in his police file; Hizashi Yamada was the well-known and well-loved operations manager and late night host for a radio station that while not the biggest or wealthiest was far from needing any kind of criminal boost. The only link between the two was Yamada’s oft-abused Quirk, but even that information was a double-edged sword at best. The police had been smart enough to keep the press away from the more sensitive details of the Mockingbird case to avoid copycats and false reports but no one knowing the connection was possible left Shouta shouting into the void. If he went as a civilian witness to the police, he would have to think of a very good lie for how he knew Mockingbird’s M.O. but hadn’t gone to them before now; if he went to them as an admitted vigilante, they might take his report more seriously but he’d end up in handcuffs right next to Yamada. As with most things he’d have to go into this on his own, something that would be a much simpler undertaking if he wasn’t being actively locked out of the information he needed to do so.

“Computer trouble?” a voice above him asked. Shouta jumped, causing the large ginger cat in his lap to grumble and dig its claws into his thighs in retaliation. He gave the cat an apologetic pat on the head and looked up to see one of the cat cafe’s servers standing next to his table.

“Uh, no. It’s just old. Doesn’t like to load,” Shouta lied, swapping screens as casually as he could. The server nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“I getcha,” she said. “It’s such a pain when they still work but they’re too old to really do the work. Our whole register system is older than I am but we can’t get the old workhorse to give up the ghost and let us replace her.” She chuckled, shrugging. “Did you want a refill on that coffee?” she added, pointing to Shouta’s half-full cup that had gone cold long ago.

“Sure, thanks. One sugar, no milk,” Shouta said. He scratched the cat in his lap behind the ears until the server was safely back behind the counter putting his order in before switching back to his other window.

The page had blacked out, the error message now telling him that his session had expired and would not be renewed. He tried closing his browser and restarting it, but the window instantly dimmed and let him know that his session was well and truly dead for today. Shouta wondered if this was a new protocol being rolled out across the board or if he wasn’t the only one they were having to lock out. If the same gap in the digital fence was being used by someone with less scrupulous intents, Shouta supposed he couldn’t entirely begrudge the police for fixing the fault and adding a less easily manipulated system. Trying to channel his frustration into a more helpful direction, Shouta opened the spreadsheet he’d been using to build a Mockingbird timeline and added what scraps of new information he’d been able to screenshot. He highlighted the long periods of silence and typed each time period and Yamada’s name into individual browser tabs.

Hizashi Yamada was as easy to track as Mockingbird was impossible to pin down. Yamada put a lot of effort into propagating his breezy, unbothered persona, but seemed to put just as much into being a diligent employee; the gaps Shouta had found in Mockingbird’s movements didn’t generate so much as a sick day for Yamada. Shouta supposed if you weren’t actively looking for irregularities the lack of them wouldn’t have sparked interest, but to him it was both unnatural and damning. There had to be a weak spot somewhere, Shouta thought. Absurdly careful was one thing, but perfect was something else entirely. He had a suspicion that there was information in the locked sections of Mockingbird’s dossier that would mean nothing to the police without knowing Yamada’s civilian movements but would be the key to getting the upper hand on him for Shouta. But getting in there for a better look around would take time, and with his afternoon delivery shift fast approaching time was not something he had in excess. Another day with better luck, Shouta thought, saving what little progress he’d made and shutting his laptop.

Hebiko, Seguchi’s second in command and high-ranking candidate for Hizashi’s least favorite person on the planet, was waiting for him under the awning of the burned-out corner shop they were supposed to meet at. Hizashi groaned internally at the sight of her, fighting the urge to turn on his heel and cut his losses. Instead he raised a hand in greeting.

“Nice weather for it,” he said.

Hebiko fixed him with an unblinking stare and an emotionless smile. “It’s been a while, Bird,” she said, extending a hand to him like she expected him to shake it. Vivid memories of falling for the ploy and being subjected to the tetanus-like paralysis of her Snakebite Quirk the first time they’d met made Hizashi’s hands reflexively clench into fists. He meaningfully tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and looked around.

“Is your boss planning on joining us, or did he decide the B-team could handle this one on their own?” he asked.

“He had a more important appointment to keep,” Hebiko replied. Her smile widened without gaining so much as a scrap of good will. Hizashi was tempted to point out that Seguchi had thought this was important enough to call him out in the middle of a weekday evening, but his desire to get this over with before all of the good takeout places closed won out.

“His prerogative,” Hizashi said instead, shrugging. “Shall we, then?”

“After you,” Hebiko said, gesturing down the narrow alley between this building and the next. “We’re parked a street up from here,” Hebiko added when Hizashi didn’t move. “It’ll be easier to just cut through here.”

Hizashi scraped together the waning scraps of his patience, reminding himself that there was a takeaway curry and a quiet night at home with his cat on the other end of this nonsense, and headed up the alley where she was pointing.

“Good work today!” Shouta’s manager called over his shoulder as he left the employee changing room. Shouta’s two remaining coworkers called it back to him over the clang of closing lockers. Shouta muttered a vague reply a little too late, his mind already turning to what he had planned for after work.

With a last-minute change in the schedule he had somehow escaped an early shift tomorrow morning after tonight’s late shift, which meant he had until tomorrow afternoon to sleep and eat and all of the other things he usually had to cram into the few hours between clocking out and clocking back in. His heart ached to get out and stretch his legs on a long patrol, missing the routine in the wake of his recent garbage schedule. His head knew better, though. The late hour would mean fewer personnel working at police central intelligence, which would mean fewer eyes on what files were being accessed and by whom, and his newly-opened timetable would mean plenty of time to figure out what he was supposed to do about the lock on the Mockingbird dossier.

Shouta threw his bag over his shoulders, bidding his coworkers a hasty good night and walking quickly out the door before anything had time to interrupt his plans for the evening.

Hebiko followed at a distance that felt both too close and uncomfortably distant, her footsteps almost purposefully off-beat from his own. Hizashi opened his mouth to invite her to stop being such a stalker and just walk next to him, but instead found himself being slammed sideways into the alley wall by something that exploded out of a garbage bag next to a nearby dumpster. Hizashi staggered, breath catching short and sharp in his throat from the hit. Hebiko’s foot shot out from behind him, dead-legging him into an awkward half-crouch on the pavement. Hizashi looked up to see Takeshiro, one of Hebiko’s favorite minions, hopping out of the dumpster. The garbage bag that had assaulted him rustled and squirmed as a thick tangle of dessicated vegetable cuttings slithered out and stood ready by Takeshiro’s side. Hizashi choked back a gag at the smell of it, working to keep his face unconcerned.

“I feel like you might have taken that B-team comment from earlier a little too personally,” he said, the words coming out in a pained wheeze. For the first time Hebiko’s smile held actual mirth and Hizashi deeply regretted the development.

“You’ve been pissing a lot of people off lately, Bird,” Hebiko said.

“Including your boss, apparently,” Hizashi agreed. He pivoted on his toes and tried to keep his eyes on both of them as he straightened up. “He must be pretty irritated to send his pets to do his wet work without coming along to gloat.”

Takeshiro’s plant weapon struck out at him again, sending Hizashi skittering sideways to avoid it. Hizashi gritted his teeth. Hebiko and Takeshiro were each blocking an open end of the alley, closing ranks around him along with Takeshiro’s plant. The only other potential exit he had was a fire escape above the dumpster Takeshiro had crawled out of. If he could keep them distracted long enough to dart through and scramble up the escape there was a chance he could make it out of this in one fresh-scented fully mobile piece. He thought of the extendable police baton hidden in the holster sewn into the back of his jacket but decided it was better to keep it as a last resort. There was no point in escalating a situation already at the snapping point if he could find another way out of it.

“The boss doesn’t know you’re here,” Hebiko said coolly. “The cops caught him trying to get through the Hero Registry’s security net last week using the instructions he got from you. He’s been in custody ever since.”

“Sounds like user error to me,” Hizashi replied, “since the information wasn’t for him in the first place. Does he go through other people’s mail too?”

“That’s really cute coming from someone who makes a living out of digging in digital garbage looking for things to sell,” Hebiko snapped.

“Ooh, really hitting me where it hurts,” Hizashi said. He put on the biggest, fakest grin he could muster, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. Hebiko’s eyes narrowed, her hands flexing at her sides like she was trying to resist the urge to throttle him. Takeshiro’s plant weapon was starting to twitch and writhe at Takeshiro’s side, belying the man’s outward straightfaced patience. His strategy was panning out for the moment, and hopefully a moment was all he would need.

“We’re about to find a few more places for it to hurt,” Hebiko said, lips curling back from her teeth in a cold smirk.

“Thanks but no thanks.”

Seizing his chance, Hizashi caught Hebiko hard in the jaw with a surprise right hook. She stumbled back a step before coming towards him with an open-palmed strike of her own, ready to freeze him where he stood. Hizashi managed to avoid it just in time, hooking his foot around the back of her knee and sweeping it out from under her. He felt a hand grab him by the back of the jacket and yank him back several steps, nearly taking him off his feet as well. Hizashi twisted sharply towards Takeshiro, forcing the man to loosen his grip just long enough for Hizashi to duck away. He made it all the way up onto the lip of the dumpster and felt his fingers brush the ladder to the fire escape before something grabbed him around the waist and pulled him hard down onto hands and knees on the pavement. Hizashi yelped as pain crackled through his shins and forearms. Before he had time to recover he felt a hand snatch his sweatshirt’s hood off of his head, followed by Hebiko’s sharp fingers digging into the back of his neck. Instantly his body went rigid, joints locking painfully together against his will.

“This is why I hate birds,” Hebiko said, her voice mockingly conversational in Hizashi’s ear. “Whenever things get a little intense, they try to flit away before you get to have any fun with them.”

Without any warning Hebiko grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head forward, slamming it with all her strength into the steel side of the dumpster. Hizashi went limp, the fading paralysis replaced by a dazed ringing in his ears and an unstrung feeling throughout his limbs. He struggled to keep himself awake as black static overtook his vision. Distantly Hizashi could feel hands turning him over and working to pick him up. He heard a second metallic clang, followed by Hebiko snapping something to Takeshiro at the far end of the sludge his brain was sinking into. Before he could make any sense out of any of it, he’d drifted too deep and everything was dark buzzing silence in his head.

Shouta had been trying his best to keep his head down and his eyes on the goal of getting home, but the instant he’d seen the two of them he knew there was going to be trouble. The street was mostly empty and the few people who were out were in motion, leaving jobs or late-night restaurants and heading to wherever they were going after that. The two under the awning, however, were just standing there, carefully keeping to the little bit of shadow the scraps of ripped canvas still cast over the sidewalk. Shouta slowed, pulling his hood up to make it slightly less obvious that he was watching them. One of the figures was tall and skinny with a sharp silhouette, the other at least a foot shorter with unnaturally stiff posture. They talked for a moment before the shorter one waved the taller into the nearby alleyway. Shouta’s eyes narrowed. Never a good sign. He unsnapped the pocket he’d sewn into the shoulder strap of his bag, pulling out one of the bolases he’d stowed there for emergencies. Tucking it tightly into his palm he approached the mouth of the alley. A quick check of the sidewalk confirmed no one else seemed to have noticed him or the two he was following, so Shouta edged up on the corner of the building and peered down the alley.

A third, stockier figured had joined the group from somewhere in the time it took him to approach; they and the short one had closed ranks around the tall one to prevent any potential escape. Shouta dropped into a crouch as he rounded the corner, scuffing his feet over the ground to keep his steps quiet. The group was too far away for Shouta to tell what they were saying, but the conversation seemed to turn sour very quickly. Shouta only managed a few steps towards them before whatever was said triggered a short, dirty fight and the attempt at a quick exit by the tall one via a nearby fire escape. Something fast and tentacle-like caught them around the waist before they made it and dragged them back down. A moment later the short one had them by the back of them neck and slammed them head-first into the side of the dumpster with a sickening clang of skull on metal that echoed out in the otherwise muted night. The tall figure lolled sidewise, dropping senseless onto the ground and for a moment Shouta thought the other two were just going to leave them there. Worse plans were being made, it seemed, as instead the two still standing worked together to roll the unconscious third over and the stocky one made to throw them over their shoulder.

As quickly as he could, Shouta spun the bolas in his hand and threw it at the stocky figure as they bent over. Just shy of wrapping around them, however, the tentacle thing reared up again and slapped the bolas aside. It wrapped uselessly around the bottom of the fire escape ladder with a metallic snap and both of the standing figures turned to see Shouta where he had broken his cover. He pulled another spare bolas out and started it spinning as he rushed them.

“Forget it, get to the car!” the shorter figure commanded the stocky one as they made a move to grab the unconscious figure again. Sprinting away, they made a cursory attempt at tripping Shouta with the tentacle thing, but the swipe swung wide and the tentacle melted into a glob of rotting vegetables as he darted past. The second bolas flew straight, but the two of them had a big enough head start on their side that it dropped and skidded along the ground at their heels without making contact. They had already ducked into a nondescript black sedan and were pulling into traffic by the time Shouta reached the other end of the alley. Shouta pulled his phone out of his pocket and just managed to get a photo of the back of their car. He realized too late that the car didn’t have any plates. Muttering a sharp curse under his breath, Shouta turned and walked back to where they had abandoned the body.

A cold, dawning recognition began to spread in the pit of his stomach as he approached. The figure lay face-down on the concrete where it had been dropped, a spill of long blond hair falling over the collar of a familiar feathered leather jacket. Gently turning the body over confirmed his worst suspicion. Mockingbird’s mask now sported a jagged crack along the top and was streaked with blood from where it had cut into his forehead when his head slammed into the dumpster. Under the blood he looked unpleasantly pale in the dim alley light. His eyelids flickered and he let out a small moaning breath as Shouta put two fingers to his neck to confirm there was a pulse. Not dead, Shouta confirmed with a tight grimace, just knocked out.

Shouta sat back on his heels, brain speeding off in opposite directions at the same time. He knew he was duty-bound to find the nearest patrolling officer or hero and turn Mockingbird in; it was the only good ending for the situation, even if his accomplices had managed to get away. Then again, those “accomplices” had knocked Mockingbird out and for all intents and purposes left him for dead. Whatever had gone south between them, Mockingbird had ended up a victim of it in the end. It seemed unfair somehow for him to get turned over to law enforcement when what he needed was help, like adding insult to injury. A police siren rang out on the street Shouta had followed Mockingbird and the others off of, making Shouta jump. He didn’t have time to debate it. Before better instincts could kick in, he shuffled off his bag and opened the farthest-back compression pocket.

“Sorry about this,” Shouta muttered. Working quickly, he stripped off Mockingbird’s mask and jacket, stuffing them into his bag. Mockingbird was wearing a piece of homemade gear around his neck, partially hidden by the neckline of his hoodie. It looked like a series of spare audio parts wired into a tight collar; long wires stretched down under his sleeves to controls strapped to the palms of his hands under his gloves. The sirens were getting uncomfortably close as Shouta tried to find a way to get it off of him. Finally he just took each side of a join in one hand and yanked, pulling all of the wires free and and shoving the whole contraption in his bag as well. He managed to get everything strapped flat and his bag back over his shoulders as blue and red lights announced the approach of the police. Taking a deep breath and turning his gut-level panic into an expression of concern, Shouta half-jogged out of the alley to meet them.

“Hey! Hey over here, I think he needs help!” Shouta shouted, waving his arms to flag the car down.

The next hour was a hazy blur of trying to keep his story straight for every cop he had to repeat it to, from the scene to the ambulance to a private conference room at the hospital. He had been on his way home from work, he said in increasing tones of weariness, and he heard what he thought was a fight in the alley as he passed by. He tried to step in after the muggers threw Yamada against the dumpster, but they ran off before he could get a good look at them. No, he didn’t really know Yamada, he just recognized him from a delivery he’d made. No, he wasn’t the one who made the initial call to the police, he had been trying to check if Yamada was dead or just unconscious. No, he didn’t have any additional information, he had honestly just been in the right place at the right time. Each time the police seemed to get a little less interested in him, turning their attention to questioning Yamada when the doctors were done running tests. Finally they thanked him for his time and Shouta was allowed to sit by himself in the waiting room and catch his breath.

Every single part of him felt like it was trying to fistfight every other part, but his head was winning the pain battle by a longshot. Hizashi opened his eyes and immediately shut them again with a sharp grunt of pain as white fluorescent lights burned into his skull. He tried again more slowly, squinting his eyes open in slow shifts to let them adjust. A hospital room came into focus bit by bit.. His jacket and gear were gone and his feet were bare. He could see a doctor and nurse standing a few feet away, talking to a uniformed officer. All of them seemed relatively relaxed, considering where they were. There was an uneasy feeling of Wrongness about the situation, but before he had time to dwell on it, the three of them noticed he was awake and came to stand around his bed.

“‘M I under arrest?” Hizashi mumbled. It wasn’t the best opener, but putting thoughts into words and having them stay in the right order was proving to be a challenge right now.

“Nothing so drastic, Mr. Yamada,” the doctor said, smiling at the perceived joke. “Officer Fujiwara is just here to take a statement about what happened to you tonight after we run a few tests to make sure everything’s shipshape up here,” she added, tapping her own temple with an index finger.

“Okay,” Hizashi said slowly. The time delay between ears and brain was slowly shortening, but somehow that wasn’t helping things make sense. He wasn’t being detained (yet), and they’d called him Yamada, which seemed to imply better things than he had expected. How that better outcome had happened was still up for debate but he was more than willing to let it ride for the moment.

The doctor introduced herself as Dr. Watanabe before going through the usual battery of post-concussion memory and comprehension tests that a childhood spent roughhousing with four siblings had turned into second nature for Hizashi. Slowly but surely as they spoke Hizashi’s brain clicked up through the gears until he was mostly running on all cylinders. He kept the conversation going as they wheeled him out of the room for a quick brain scan and then back in once it was done. Too soon, however, came the moment when he had to explain himself to the police.

“I understand things may be a little bit confused at the moment,” Officer Fujiwara began, cutting off Hizashi’s excuse before he could even make it. “We can fill in the more minor details at a later date as they come back to you. For right now, just tell me what you remember.”

Hizashi hesitated, trying to come up with a story that was both plausible and matched enough of the details that it wouldn’t come back to bite him later. “Uh. I was out walking,” he started, trying to get his feet under himself as he spoke. “There’s a takeout place I like, but it’s on the other side of town from my apartment so I don’t go there much unless I’m working late.”

“Understandable. Where is it that you work, Mr. Yamada?” Officer Fujiwara asked.

“Asahi Radio. I manage operations and fill in when our hosts are out. I had some paperwork to finish up, so I stayed late tonight.” Nice, neat, normal little life, Hizashi thought, willing her to buy the excuse. Officer Fujiwara made no indication that she did or didn’t believe it. Instead she just nodded and scribbled down shorthand on her notepad, motioning for him to go on. “I was trying to get home before it got too late, so I took a shortcut to the restaurant, but…” Hizashi trailed off, stiffly shaking his head. “I don’t know. It gets kind of jumbled after that.”

“I see. Do you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary while you were walking? Anyone suspicious, anyone seeming like they were following you?” Officer Fujiwara asked. Hizashi shook his head.

“No, but I wasn’t really looking I guess. Too distracted by my stomach,” Hizashi replied, cracking a smile at his own joke. Officer Fujiwara gave him a thin smile.

“Anything else you can remember?” she asked. Hizashi pretended to think. Trying to remember things in the order that they had happened after Hebiko had hit him with her Snakebite was genuinely difficult and added a touch of realism to his stymied expression.

“Sorry, no,” he said.

“Not a problem, Mr. Yamada. Here’s my card, and one for my immediate superior,” Officer Fujiwara said, handing him a pair of business cards. “If anything comes to mind later, please feel free to give us a call and let us know.”

Hizashi thanked her and accepted the cards, giving her his number at the station in return in case they needed to call him back instead. Officer Fujiwara bid him a good evening and left. Hizashi allowed himself to breathe a long sigh of relief as Dr. Watanabe returned.

“Well, the good news is your scans came back looking clear as can be hoped for,” she said brightly. “We can go ahead and keep you overnight for observation if you would like, but you should be all right to go ahead home if you’d rather do that. I believe your friend’s still out in the waiting room if the two of you need to talk it over.”

A cold jolt sank into the pit of Hizashi’s stomach, but he tried to keep it off his face. “Uh, yeah,” he agreed. “That might be best.”

Dr. Watanabe nodded and left to go get said “friend”. Hizashi sat up, sliding his legs over to sit on the side of the bed. He wasn’t really feeling up to running for his life after the rest of what happened tonight, but if Hebiko had followed him all the way to the hospital it seemed like he wasn’t going to have much choice. Maybe the cops would still be down in the lobby when he got there and he could have a miraculous return of memory that the stringy, suspicious-looking woman who had said she was here to get him was actually here to get him.

The frantic train of thought had a massive derail, however, as Dr. Watanabe returned to the room with a tall, shuffling figure in tow. Hizashi blinked, sure he had to be seeing things as Aizawa awkwardly nodded in greeting.

“Hey,” Aizawa muttered. “Erm. How’re you feeling?”

“A little confused,” Hizashi said. He tried to raise his eyebrow, but relented when the motion pulled too hard at the stitches in his forehead. “But, uh. Okay, I guess. Are you my escort home?”

Aizawa gave him a slightly sour look at the question but nodded. “I guess so,” he said.

In a renewed haze of bewilderment Hizashi reclaimed what of his belongings hadn’t been thrown out as a biohazard and signed himself out of the hospital while Aizawa called them a taxi. A very stiff, silent cab ride followed, neither of them knowing how to break the silence without making this worse than it already was.

“How’d you know where I was?” Hizashi asked finally, eyes locked forward out the front windshield of the taxi. “Decide to follow me?”

“No,” Aizawa replied flatly. “Just bad luck I guess.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Both.”

Hizashi snorted. “For once we agree on something,” he said.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of Hizashi’s building and his door creaked open to let him out. Aizawa cleared his throat as Hizashi shambled up off the seat.

“Do you...want me to come with you?” Aizawa asked, with a note in his voice that sounded like genuine concern. Hizashi paused, amused in spite of himself.

“Not even a little bit,” Hizashi replied with a cheerful, insincere smile. He shut the door and waited until the cab had pulled back into traffic and rounded the corner before going inside.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #villain!mic #vigilante!aizawa #hizashi yamada #shouta aizawa #Fire Meet Gasoline AU #Quinny thinks she's a writer

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 6 years

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Some Truths Are Stubborn As Gravity, Ch 1: When Half Of Your Heart Has Yet To Come Home

Her soulmate mark left Penelope just enough room to choose the wrong man the first time.

Elena wants to make sure she's with the right person right now.

Schneider doesn't think he deserves a soulmate, or that one is still waiting for him.

Syd is certain they found theirs. They just don't want to lose her.

Why can't destiny be simple?

Penelope x Schneider | Elena x Syd, One Day At A Time. Also on AO3.

Alex didn't show much interest in the idea when she explained it to him the first time. Since he was five years old, she couldn’t blame him. A girl at school had introduced herself to him--to every kid in his class, it turned out--by saying, “My name is Gabriella and maybe you’re my soulmate.”

Penelope had to laugh at the mental image of a first-grader proclaiming her destiny, the solemn words coming out in a rush each time she met someone new. But she hadn’t expected to have to give Alex the talk so young. She hadn’t even given him his first sex talk yet!

At least the soulmate speech was a short one, and blessedly free of anatomy. Plus, since she had started thinking about it back when she was pregnant with Elena, she’d had plenty of time to figure out how to explain it.

“Somewhere on your body, there’s a mark, a tattoo you never asked for, that won’t wash off. It tells you when you’re going to meet the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. And once you do meet them, every year that you’re not together, you’ll feel yourself pulled to them on the anniversary of your day--until the bond is set with a kiss.”

Considering the fact that people shaped their whole lives around it, she had always thought the concept sounded too much like a fairy tale. Luckily, five-year-olds didn’t generally question the logic of fairy tales. As weird as it was for Penelope, her son took it in stride and went on with his life.

Elena, on the other hand, was perpetually curious--about everything, since she first learned to talk. Really, from the day she was born her big brown eyes always seemed to be taking in the world around her, the people in it, seeking answers. Demanding information. Readying an argument.

So it wasn’t surprising that when Penelope explained the soulmate bond to Alex, Elena listened, and saved up questions for her mom at bedtime.

“But how does it work?”

“What if the universe is wrong?”

“Do you have to pick the person just because they’re your soulmate?”

And the last one, the most important one, that her daughter tossed so casually into Penelope’s lap the way only a precocious seven-year-old could--with no awareness that her innocent question landed like a grenade.

“How do you know, though? How do you really know it’s them?”

She did her best to answer, stepping around the dangerous places, the nights when she and her husband fought more than they loved.

Penelope and Victor were strong, this was just a rough patch, and they always made it through the rough patches. Marriage was about more than dinner dates and sex and handpicked weeds he passed off as flowers, after all. It took work.

But she still found herself using her parents as the example of a perfect match. So romantic, so free of doubt, so happy together right up until the day Berto died.

She didn’t let herself dwell too much on why she couldn’t say the same for her own bond.

Not yet.

****

It was an honest mistake. And an easy enough one to make, especially for a child as headstrong--stubborn, her Mami would say--as Penelope had been.

She hadn't been careful at all, with the boys she met every other day. If they weren’t The One, and the skin at the nape of her neck said they weren’t, then she didn’t really have to worry. Right?

Instead she had a lot of fun in her teens, with ‘90s grooves playing in the back of borrowed station wagons and stolen hours before curfew. If her Papi sighed and worried, whispering his fears to his wife in their bed at night, Penelope didn’t have to hear.

On that day, though, she held her breath a little. She held herself back a bit, hoping and being afraid to hope. Maybe her Mami was right, maybe she was too stubborn for her own good, because every year she wondered if she was about to meet her soulmate--and she wasn’t completely sure she wanted it to happen.

But then, one steamy night as summer faded to fall, she met Victor. And she knew, she knew like she knew her own name, that their future was bonded. She felt it in the pounding of her heart, the flutter in her stomach when he smiled.

Sealing the deal was the mark written across her skin, the date she had been born with, that said September 10 clear as day.

Penelope had been young and in love, and she could forgive herself for mistaking that for destiny.

After all, it wasn’t her fault that soulmate marks didn’t include years.

****

When Schneider was a boy, he would spend hours on the carefully manicured lawn looking up at the clouds and tracing the date emblazoned across his hip, wondering who his soulmate was and if she was thinking about him.

That was in the beginning, before his mother left and his stepmoms and nannies became interchangeable. First he stopped believing in soulmate love, and then he stopped believing in much of anything, including himself. Giving up tap was the last straw.

Schneider remembered meeting Penelope and her parents, along with a couple of cousins who came to see baby Elena, but he couldn’t have said what day it was. And then he woke up the following afternoon and saw the Twin Towers on the news.

He drank those images away until he landed himself back in rehab.

By the time Penelope moved into his building the first time, Schneider had decided he didn’t want a soulmate anyhow. Why let the hassle of another person get in the way of having fun? Life was too short.

And even if he had remembered the exact date he met her...well, honestly, by the time Penelope returned, Schneider’s life had become a string of years that blurred in his memory.

He was so drunk or high during most of his September 10ths that he assumed he had already met his soulmate and she’d taken one look at him and walked the other way.

He couldn’t blame her.

Schneider in his forties knew what his younger self didn’t--whether he wanted a soulmate or not was irrelevant, because he didn’t deserve one.

****

She didn’t think much of it at the time, mostly because she wasn’t thinking about anything that day--her brain was so exhausted Penelope wasn’t sure she remembered how to think anymore.

And yeah, it used to give her a twinge of nervous anticipation when it arrived every year...but she had found Victor, making September 10 just an anniversary now. A memory, a relic.

Penelope met at least a dozen curious people that day, from the neighborhood and the building, and it didn’t occur to her to care that moving in coincided with her mark. In the grand scheme of things, Schneider was just the sleazy landlord’s son who hit on her. Though she didn’t usually spill her entire life story to a total stranger, especially one who dressed like...that.

“Why am I telling you all of these things? I’m so tired.”

That had to be it.

Just another effect of New Mom Brain, the same condition that had her singing a lullaby to a bag of frozen peas in an aisle at Walmart three weeks after Elena was born. It didn’t have to make sense.

And neither did the way her brain would be pulled back to that first meeting, like clockwork, every year. The Army plus a baby, then the Army plus two kids, kept her from noticing the pattern.

She and Victor had to work so hard sometimes, to have the kind of happy marriage she thought was guaranteed once you found your soulmate. It was totally natural that her mind would drift back to that day, when they had a bright future stretching out before them--before everything changed again.

It was their first apartment she was really thinking about, Penelope knew. The loving support of her parents, the dorky joy Victor felt about his new job, and how tenderly he held their baby girl. It wasn’t the rap-rock-ska trust funder that her mind returned to at all.

Penelope could be a damn good liar when she needed to be. Especially to herself.

****

But at age seven, Elena asked the question, one Penelope wasn’t quite sure how to answer when she really thought about it.

Her smart kid wasn’t wrong.

The soulmate mark gave you a day. You met any number of people on that day, every year of your life. Any of those people could be your destiny.

How did anybody really know?

You didn’t, Penelope decided, lying awake in the dark next to Victor that night. You looked for your soulmate or you sat back and expected the universe to drop them into your lap; you tried to fight fate’s whims or you embraced them--either way it was a leap.

Either way it was about love, and in love there were no guarantees.

That was what she told Elena over cereal the next day, her daughter taking in the explanation with a silent nod. Penelope could see the wheels turning, and expected more questions, but they didn’t come.

The kids went to school, and as far as she could tell their conversation was quickly forgotten.

By everyone except Penelope.

****

Schneider thought about Lydia’s daughter a lot, and if it happened more on September 10 each year than it did the rest of the time, he didn’t realize it.

After all, that was how he thought of her while her family was living on Army bases and she was struggling to repair her marriage--she was Lydia’s daughter, and Lydia was one of his favorite people in the world.

Of course he thought about her daughter, the total badass who’d seemed like she needed a hug more than anything the day they met. Penelope was obviously amazing and he didn’t need Lydia’s stories in order to know it.

She told him the stories anyway.

Lydia visited him in rehab, she encouraged him to come over for coffee and meals and to keep her company after Berto died, and she told him all about her daughter and her grandchildren and her family back in Cuba.

It made him feel almost like a part of something, a family stronger and more connected than his had ever been. It helped him stay sober.

And Lydia never acted as though he was unwelcome; she never got tired of him and told him to leave.

So by the time her daughter moved back home, he felt like he knew her already, much better than he could explain in a rational way.

Instead, all he knew was that it was normal for his mind to wander to Penelope Alvarez, even before he saw her again and she was prettier and fiercer and also more vulnerable than he remembered.

Once Lydia had practically adopted him, it just made sense.

Though Lydia being the best mom he’d never had made it more than a little awkward, every time he woke up and realized her daughter was in his dreams again. That, he couldn’t explain so easily.

****

At first, Penelope sought Schneider out when she had no one else to go to. Then she sought him out because she knew he could be trusted.

Eventually she sought him out because he was just...there. And she knew it. She was almost physically aware of it some days, his availability should she need someone, his open door policy when it came to her.

And it’s not like he didn’t seek her out, too. He was a little less obvious about it, though. He beelined for her entire family. He was always around.

It made it impossible for either of them to notice one specific day out of the year. Sure, if he didn’t come down for coffee on the morning of September 10, she would definitely find some pretense for texting him, trying to feel out whether he’d be at her dinner table when she got home.

And yes, if she was running late from work on September 10, it would be Schneider more than anyone who was impatient for her to arrive. But again, the last two years had turned them so swiftly from acquaintances to best friends, how was that really different from any other day?

He always wanted to see her. He always had things he was waiting to say.

They might never have made the connection, as a matter of fact, if they hadn’t gotten a push.

For the second time in her life, Elena gave her mom something to think about.

****

Elena looked up from her homework, across the table they were sharing under the weight of textbooks and laptops.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember when Alex and I were little, and you first told us about soulmates?”

Oh, God. Penelope had been waiting for this conversation, and dreading it, now that her daughter had a girlfriend. A tiny part of her had hoped that since Syd and Elena seemed so happy together, the picture of young love, that maybe Elena wouldn’t have the same doubts she once did.

No such luck.

“Of course I do.”

“Well…” Elena bit her lower lip, trying to figure out how she could ask the question without being mean. “You told me that there were no guarantees, no way to be absolutely sure that you found the right person, even if you met them on the right day.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you still think Papi is your soulmate?”

Penelope sighed, resting her hands on top of her homework. “Elena, that’s a complicated question. Being soulmates doesn’t mean a relationship, or a marriage, will work out. But you know your Papi and I, we loved each other so much.”

Her voice was small, and she was looking at the floor instead of at her mom. “I know that.”

“And you have to know that no matter what happened between your Papi and I, we’re grateful that it led to you and Alex.”

Elena nodded, her voice stronger. “Yeah, I know.”

Penelope took a deep breath. Her baby was growing up too fast, but it wasn’t as though she could stop it, or even slow it down. All she could do was her best, and offering Elena the truth was even more important now that she was old enough to make her own mistakes.

“But to answer your question...no. I don’t think your Papi was my soulmate. Not in the big magical bond way. I think that we met on the right day, and we both wanted it to be true. Enough that we made it work for a long time, until we couldn’t anymore.”

Elena was speechless for a moment, her eyes huge with shock, even though it was the answer part of her had expected. There was a big difference between suspecting a thing though and knowing it, for sure.

“I didn’t tell you that to upset you,” Penelope said. “I told you because I love you, and I know how much you care about Syd. It would be understandable, if you were wondering about this stuff now because of them.”

“Well, how can I not?” Elena's voice rose in frustration. “You remember the day we met, don’t you?”

Penelope smiled. “Of course I do.”

“Then you know I met our whole online group for the very first time. And so did Syd. And I had such a dumb crush on Dani, I didn’t even notice them at first--I feel really bad about that part.”

“You’re together now. That’s what matters.”

“But we met on July 19th,” Elena reminded her. “And Syd’s day is the same as mine, but that might not mean anything if we were actually supposed to start dating other people.”

Her daughter could argue her way into or out of any situation, and Penelope knew firsthand how hard it was to talk yourself down from insecurities and anxiety, so she tried a different angle.

“Well, what if you were?”

“Huh?”

“What if you were meant to date other people? What if you and Syd were each meant to pair off with other gamers that day, or what if you just happen to have the same day and it wasn’t supposed to happen for either of you this year?”

“Mom!”

“Well, it’s possible.”

Elena looked horrified. “You are not helping.”

“Mija, think about it. If you found out tomorrow that Syd isn’t your true soulmate, would you stop caring about them? Would you want to break up?”

“No!” She frowned at how easily her answer had burst out, adding more slowly, “No, I don’t think so.”

“And do you believe they’re your soulmate?”

“I do.” The tension visibly drained out of her. “Even if I can’t 100% prove it.”

“Then they are. That’s how it works, Elena. That’s the secret. We can’t know for sure, so we make choices. I chose your dad, and I may have been wrong about him being my soulmate, but I don’t regret my choice. Not for a second.”

Nodding, Elena was quiet for a moment. She had that fiercely questioning expression on her face, the one Penelope considered essential to who her daughter was.

When she spoke, it wasn't a grenade like the last time--it was a bomb. And Penelope could practically hear it start ticking somewhere deep in her heart.

"So if Papi isn't your soulmate, Mom...who is?"

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the-fashiongeek-blog1 · 5 years

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S/S ’19 in Review; Presentations and Lookbooks

Back when I first made this blog, I made a promise to myself to review all the collections that made me Feel Things. Of course, that was before the season, and before my list of collections grew to over five dozen. Similarly, it was before NaNoWriMo, where I lost four weeks progress on this blog. After doing a little math, I realized there was no way I would be able to finish all the reviews before couture week kicked off. Considering I want to review all the major couture collections (plus the miscellaneous posts on other topics I wanted to throw in), as well as my current pace, there was no way that was happening. So here we are; I’m going to attempt to knock out every S/S ’19 collection shown as a presentation or lookbook in this one post. As a separate challenge for myself, I’m also going to try to limit each review to under two-hundred words. It’s an exercise in brevity, the archnemesis in all my writing ventures. Can I do it? Let’s find out!

—PAULE KA Of the sixty-some-odd collections that made my favorites list this season, Paule Ka ranked last. Not necessarily a bad thing, considering it actually made the list, but not a ringing endorsement. To put it plainly, while I liked some looks, I was indifferent about most. There were a few, such as the ones with the large heart appliqués, that I actively disliked. The bows that are a signature of the brand occasionally tended towards comically large, or even very young, but I’m generally not a fan of large bows anyway. Many of the dresses felt like things I’d seen before…in the Macy’s prom section. But perhaps that is a testament to the influence of brand, which just celebrated its thirtieth anniversary. The looks I did like were the ones that included sheer panels. For example, the grey-and-white dress in the first page of the lookbook, which was an interesting take on the half-cape (even if it did include a big shoulder bow). While the placement of the placement of the sheer panel in looks 16 and 17 might not be practical for a night out, I enjoyed them as well. Paule Ka isn't the most expensive brand on this list, but the clothes fit the pricetag.

—ALEXIS MABILLE Alexis Mabille's namesake brand inhabits a strange place in my mind. His couture collections veer into saccharine for me; all cloying sweetness with no depth, no edge to balance it out. However, his ready-to-wear collections are more restricted, and that's probably for the best. Not to mention the possibility that individual pieces can be incorporated into less cutesy outfits. This time, it wasn't hard to imagine. The lookbook model wore a reflective shield over her face, adding a delightfully surreal element to the collection. It was still undeniably an Alexis Mabille collection, however. Season after season, Mabille finds new and creative ways to sew a collared button-up or trench coat. The craftsmanship in tailoring deserves special mention, particularly on the pieces where patterns were matched across seams. Looks 1 and 6 used this method to create a beautiful chevron. Unfortunately, the collection suffered from familiar drawbacks in Mabille's work. Some of the satin silk pieces felt...off in a way I can't accurately describe. Look 24 throws a lot at you in terms of pieces and color. However, I would consider wearing each of the pieces individually.

—ELLERY Of the designers on this list, Kym Ellery's concept was probably the most, well, conceptual. Literally; it was inspired by Paul Kos' conceptual piece "Sound of Ice Melting". Like the artwork that inspired it, this collection was meant to be perceived through multiple means. The campaign, film, and presentation were all meant to be part of the collection itself, not just a way to advertise the pieces within it. So what does this mean for the clothes themselves? On one hand, aside from the occasional shared design element, there aren't too many obvious themes. The looks covered many occasions and styles - from casual sportswear to sparkling crop tops that would be perfect for a night out. However, all the pieces look like they could belong in the closet of the same woman. While the garments were more individually-focused than others on this list, they are also some of the most wearable. My only major complaint is for the lookbook itself. Some of the poses, as well as the bright lighting on lighter fabrics, made it difficult to see the clothes. And, trust me, I wanted to see the clothes.

—NABIL NAYAL Nabil Nayal has been designing for over a decade now. He's won all kinds of awards, dressed everyone from Florence Welch to Rhianna, and collaborated with both Christopher Bailey at Burberry and Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel. Yet this is the first year I've heard of him, and that's a shame. All his artist statements and biographies mention his love of English history - particularly the Elizabethan era. He even earned his Ph.D. in the university where this collection was presented. That inspiration was quite literal in this collection. Prints included both original transcripts of famous Queen Elizabeth I speeches to depictions of the queen herself. In other places it was less obvious, such as the front ruffles or frilly collars on everything from shirts to trench coats. Previous collections by Nayal have been more sportswear-focused, but this collection was breezier. At times a little shapeless, the intricate prints and tailoring still made the garments beautiful. The makeup, which mimicked the script print of some pieces, also deserves a mention.

—VERA WANG From Elizabethan England to pre-revolutionary France. Where Nayal used his source of inspiration quite literally, taking the designs in a modern direction, Vera Wang went futuristic and avant-garde. Her designs are all about shape and volume, and there was a lot to play with in her chosen time period. This mix of past and future was clear from the first look, which included a style of cap sleeves (called "engageantes") popular among King Louis XIV's court, but rendered in black lace on a babydoll dress. Other times, the classic silhouette was used, but recreated with hard lines and sharp edges. Neck ruffles and puffed sleeves abounded, but the little details were also beautiful. There were several versions of seams made up of grommets, which added a hard edge to the romantic, lacy garments. Some of the pieces in the collection might not be the most wearable, but that hardly matters. They're art.

—WENDY NICHOL Is it possible to exude downtown grunge and uptown glamor at the same time? Wendy Nichol may have just cracked the code. In this collection, she combined clean lines with sheer fabrics to brilliant effect. All the looks in the campaign were styled by the models who wore them, showcasing not only their personalities, but the versatility of the garments. (One of these models happens to be Ilana Glazer, probably most known for her staring role in "Broad City", and a favorite actress of mine.) Some were dressed more casually, in shirt/pants/jacket combos that would be perfect for grabbing lunch with friends at a café. Others wore mini-dresses that looked ready for a night out clubbing. There were also creative takes on this season's staples, like bike shorts and belted blazers. My favorite (look 2), a gauzy black dress, was particularly beautiful; like something a member of the Unseelie Court might wear. Or, you know, me on a Friday night.

#paule ka #alexis mabille #ellery #nabil nayal #vera wang #wendy nichol #ss19 #spring summer 2019 #blog posts #tfg articles

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starsgivemehp · 6 years

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Tag’s Multiverse - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Tea Party

Word count: 2,266

Warnings: none (I think?)

Characters: Vega (Classic Sans), Alka (Alterfell Sans)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101227

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

- - - - - - - - - -

The door made a soft chiming sound, and the sweet, homey fragrance of various teas washed over Vega. He glanced around, his hands easily slipping into the pockets of his parka. Assorted boxes and jars of tea were neatly stacked, arranged by type. A few places had tea pots on little burners, and samples of certain more popular teas on display for testing. Behind the counter sat a skeleton monster, much like Vega himself, his back perfectly straight. He looked to be dressed in a robe of some sort, the hood and sleeves red, arms tucked into the opposite sleeves. He seemed harsher in appearance, teeth sharp, one glinting gold. There was a lateral crack down his right socket, splitting and tapering underneath. Though Vega’s own face was unmarred, his teeth flat and harmless, he wasn’t surprised. The sharper skeletons had a big district, but not all of them chose to stay there.

The sharp skeleton’s eyelights were a muddy sort of cerulean, and that told Vega plenty about the kind of person he was already. He shuffled up to the counter, noting that the shopkeep’s pupils never left him. Was that wariness, or just interest in the only current customer? The harsher monsters tended to be jumpy. And yet, this one’s posture was relaxed. ‘alka,’ the nametag on his chest dubbed him, in a familiar, all-lowercase font.

“golden flower is on your right,” Alka informed him, his voice deep, almost husky, with a touch of that drawly accent his type had. A much clearer cerulean poured from the words, and Vega couldn’t help but grin. Familiar endless patience.

“actually, i wasn’t looking for golden flower.”

“oh.” His brow raised slightly. “my apologies, most skeletons coming in here have quite a fondness for it. how can i help you, then?”

Despite the light drawl, his words had a deliberate quality about them, a more formal speech pattern than younger monsters (and humans) bothered with. This guy had to be several centuries old. Vega must have worn his amusement on his face, because the man’s sockets narrowed after a moment.

“how can i help you?” he repeated, and Vega watched the perfect cerulean of the words darken, even take on a faint hint of muddy green.

“heh heh. sorry, just remembered something funny. yeah, i’m actually looking for a kind of tea to wake me up, not put me to sleep.”

“oh. coffee not to your tastes?”

“nah. too bitter.”

“right.”

The other skeleton got up and came around the counter, and Vega could see the rest of his appearance. The robe was long enough to cover his feet, tied with rope at the waist. He was only a few inches taller than Vega, which was unusual - the softer skeleton stood at a pretty 4’6”. Even as Alka reached out to switch on a burner, his hand never became visible. Vega couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to an injury - it always seemed to be something like that.

“you’ll want black tea, for the caffeine. i take it you don’t like flowery shit?”

The casual swear even in such a formal conversation… Vega could just hear the chiding “LANGUAGE!” Solstice would chirp. He tried not to snort at the imagery.

“um, not really.”

“not fruity either?”

“nah.”

“mm. i have a few you can try. but it’ll take a bit for them to steep. you’ll have to be patient.”

Vega grinned wide, lifting his chin up with a gleam of amusement in his gaze.

“no worries there, pal. i’m always patient, heh heh.”

“you say that like it’s a joke, somehow.”

There again, Alka’s brow rose a little. Vega shrugged, closing one eye to look down at the teapot slowly getting heated up. Black, stone of some sort. Very fancy and professional. Clearly, this guy was no pushover about this stuff. Funny, how… no. Say that out loud.

“funny how a sharp guy like you can have so much… tranquili-tea.”

There was an undignified snort from the other skeleton, and he turned away to laugh into his sleeve.

“brew think you’re funny, huh?”

“oh yeah. i’m tea-ming with puns.” Vega grinned wider, and his opponent only snorted again, a little smirk coming onto his face.

“i leaf-t that one out for you.”

“well, i still have a cup-le of more.”

“you can chai to outpun me, but you’ve got oolong way to go.” The shop's owner was smirking behind his covered hand now, his sockets narrowed in amusement rather than irritation.

“i guess i’m in hot water now.”

“don’t strain yourself, it’s a steep climb out.”

“now you’re just taking pot shots.” Vega pulled out a hand to put to his chest, as if wounded by that one.

“ah, kettle load of that one.”

“you sugar you haven’t met your match?”

“please, i’ve got this in the bag.”

“eh, i’ll milk you dry eventually.”

“hehehe.” The sharper skeleton turned off the burner now, and pulled out a tea bag to settle into a cup. Then the kettle was tilted, the hot water pouring into the cup. “technically, the proper way to brew your tea is to put it in the kettle and let it steep there before pouring. but since you want to try a few different types, it’s easier to steep it in the cup.”

“yeah, sure. i’m not picky.”

“make sure you do it the right way when you’re at home.”

“yessir.” An easy shrug, as he held out his hand. Alka handed the teacup over.

“this one is ceylon. give it two or three minutes to steep, and then try it.”

As Vega took the teacup with a nod, the other skeleton grabbed another, and rooted around in the samples for another kind. A second tea bag was found quickly, and settled in the second cup. He then poured water into that one as well.

“this one is yunnan. neither of these are flowery or fruity. they're richer. almost have a bit of a chocolately taste to them. that one you're holding, the ceylon, has a bit more spice to it. if it's too much, you might like the yunnan better.”

Vega nodded along, though he honestly wondered if he'd taste much difference at all. He pinched the square tab starting the string, and shifted the bag in his cup a few times, causing more of the flavor to seep out. Then he took a sip.

“...huh. not bad.”

“yeah? well, try this one too.”

The second cup was held out, and Vega obediently took it to give it a try. The warm drink rushed through his non-throat, and he hummed lightly in approval.

“even better. guess i'll take this one.”

“good. go ahead and finish that cup. i'll take the other off your hands.”

“sure, okay.” Vega handed off the first cup again, and Alka took it to absently sip as he reset everything at the little taste-testing station. Vega couldn't help but smile again, seeing that bright yellow accent the cerulean. Shining, triumphant. Genuine.

The shorter, softer skeleton let his eyes wander around the store again, as he savored the rich taste of the tea. Way better than coffee, he felt no need to add any sugar or milk to throttle the flavor. He wandered off, looking at decorations on the walls. Mostly tea motifs, though there were also some posters of human and monster bodies, displaying energy movements through the body, describing magic flow. There was a guide to meditation plastered on another wall, with steps laid out and encouragements to keep trying if nothing was achieved the first few attempts. He wondered if the owner had plastered these sorts of posters around the place because they fit the theme, or if the guy really did meditate and practice energy flow and other such inner-tranquility things. Seemed an oddly… peaceful type of hobby for a fell type. Maybe he was misjudging thelem.

“do you meditate?”

Vega tried not to jump, realizing the other skeleton had approached while he was spacing out.

“oh, uh, no,” he said, finding himself sounding almost apologetic. “honestly, i'd only fall asleep if i tried.”

Alka clicked his teeth, and Vega realized after a moment that he was holding back a chuckle.

“if it helps you fall asleep, you've at least gotten part of it down.”

“heh heh, i can fall asleep easily anyway.”

“that's fair. what about fighting?” Alka asked, and Vega blinked in confusion.

“huh?”

“fighting, do you know how?”

“uh. well…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, debating how to answer. Technically, yes, he knew how. He had very good magic control, though not as amazing as his brother's. But on the other hand, he'd never exactly had to test it. “...i do well enough,” he said eventually, before drinking another gulp of his tea. He felt Alka's gaze bore into him again, and kept his own gaze on the nearly-empty cup.

“you know the rec center just outside of the arts district?” Alka asked next, and Vega had to cast around in his mental map to remember where the arts district was in relation to him. Music seemed to hum in the air constantly there, as if everyone who lived there generated it with their bodies.

“oh, yeah, i know where that is.”

“i teach kung fu there.”

“really?”

“technically, there's some tai chi mixed in with my style, but yes. every tuesday and friday from 7 to 9 in the evening is my monster class. humans come on mondays and thursdays.”

Vega stared at him for a long moment, a little dumbfounded. Logically speaking, this made sense. Not only was violence of some sort a very typical hobby or skill of the fells, the specific kind he was speaking of - some Eastern kind he couldn't place perfectly - paired with the meditation and tea drinking perfectly. Still… he had just been beginning to think there was not a fighty bone in this skeleton's body. Alka waited for a long moment, clearly waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, he cleared his throat to speak again, his voice a bit softer. A swirl of green replaced the yellow as accent to his voice-color.

“throwing around bone attacks and dodging is one thing. you might even be perfectly safe like that, up here. but you never know. learning how to properly dodge, block, and attack physically is very useful. especially since, given your stats, you'd probably want to avoid killing from relying on magic attacks too much. who knows when fighting skills would be put to the test? things are peaceful for now, but… besides, the doctrine is not to be aggressive and hurt everyone you come across. kung fu is meant to protect yourself and deal only the damage to need to for your attacker to leave you alone.”

Vega scratched the side of his skull thoughtfully. He had no interest in fighting at all, and despite what Alka said, he was fairly certain he'd never have to do it. But that being said… his brother's determined voice rang in his head, proclaiming his lifelong desire to join the guard. He still was not a part of it, and he had set his sights on other goals. But even so… It sounded like something he might enjoy.

“tuesday and friday at seven, you say?”

“that's right. interested? the first class is free.”

“mmm. i guess i'll come take a look. s’ it okay if i bring someone?”

“of course,” Alka assured. “the more the merrier.”

“heh. alright. then, i'll be there.”

“excellent. could i get your name and your friend's name?” Alka went back to the counter and pulled out a clipboard. Vega hummed quietly again, finishing the tea and setting the cup down. Then he hovered near the wall of tea.

“the name's vega. his name is solstice. which, ah…?”

“the yunnan. vega and solstice. very well.” The names were scribbled down, the clipboard tucked away again, and then he rung up the box of tea Vega had brought up. The G was slid over for Alka to pocket, and then he sat himself back down, his sleeves once again meeting in front of him. “have a nice day, vega.”

“you too, buddy.”

Vega left the store with the tea box in hand, wondering how Friday night would go.

- - - - - - - - - -

Alka settled himself in his seat properly again, making sure that his back was as straight as he could make it. The pain was not so bad today. But of course, he had been keeping to his routine for a while now, that was to be expected. He closed his sockets, letting his awareness expand to cover the whole store, and even a little beyond. People passed by on the street, and he could hear their chattering, their footsteps, see which direction they were headed and if any of them might step into his shop. Absently, in the back of his head, he contemplated why he had been so eager to get the soft skeleton to come to his classes. In the end, it was probably the same reason he had tried to save each child, the same reason he had fiercely defended Frisk from all of the dangers on their journey to freedom.

He was a softie for the innocent ones. It was the big brother in him.

He hoped Vega would actually come. The guy looked like he couldn’t dodge more than five hits before he got knocked flat or killed.

He wondered if ‘Solstice’ looked anything like his dead brother.

#out of skeleton #my work #my writing #my art #skeleton artsu #guest muse: vega #guest muse: alka #kustard #tags multiverse story #my fanfiction

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insanescriptist · 6 years

Note

What if Xanxus was accidentally sent back in time and replaced Luce as the Sky Arcobaleno, how do you think things would change for the world with the other arcobaleno as his elements and what changes could he possibly make upon the world?

First off, Xanxus is pissed as hell to end up in the past; he knows when he is and knows exactly how powerless he is to the mafia at the moment; beyond his own personal power he has no connections, no fortune to fund schemes or plans, no one to vouch for him.

And without the last one, he’s pretty much denied access to the upper echelons of mafia society. He’s not going to beg for the protection of a name and still wants no other name than Vongola. And no, he can’t force things because Grandma’s not that long retired and Nono Vongola has only recently got married; both did get more mellowed with age but Grandma’s first reaction to ‘strange man that got past security and claims to be my grandson from the future’ is going to be to kill him, so Xanxus isn’t going to bother.

As much as he still wants to be Vongola, be the Boss… he knows he can’t because he doesn’t have the blood. At least here, in this when, he doesn’t have Iemitsu and sundry smearing his and the Varia’s reputation for years while he was frozen, the arranged false-hope and tragedy of the so-called Ring Battles for everyone to remind him of and giggle about while trapped in a position he’s good at but doesn’t want to stay in.

So he has two options really: join the Varia or figure something else out.

The Varia would give him the Vongola protection -a solo Sky was too tempting a target without backing- he knew the laws and was damn good at his job and more. He’d also be changing history but just being here pretty much was or it was destined to be depending on which flavor of temporal theory a person went with. It’d pretty much be the same thing, except not since technology was far superior in the future so communications and more wouldn’t be there. Plus if he remembered right, the Varia wasn’t much for international operations at this point, even in continental Europe.

Being Varia again was a possibility but this time it wouldn’t be a choice he was forced into. It was an option he could take, but an unknown taking over the Varia would make the old fart a lot warier of the Varia and him and that could end with him getting iced-over again. Taking over the Varia at all would expose him to the old fart a lot more than what he wanted to deal with. Xanxus knows he has issues and decided that the risk wasn’t worth the comfort.

Reviewing his skills, he realized that despite having all the mafia-boss related skills making him a fantastic manager and being highly skilled as an assassin he doesn’t have a lot of non-mafia boss related skills. He’s not a mechanic, his experience with farming is nil, he’s not sure if he could hammer a nail in straight and has no patience with the majority of the public which cuts out all of retail.

He could be a blacksmith or artisan, but that runs into the ‘no one to vouch for him’ ordeal when not running into ‘lack of start up’ and ‘being around people’ which could lead to ‘potential lone Sky mafia complications.’ Which prior to the internet, written or someone in-person vouching for you was the way to go. Because the mafia was an honor-society like that. As was a lot of Italy.

Which meant he’d have to start on the fringe somewhere, get that person to speak for him and not simply pass him up the chain of command so he could get a bullet to the brain. So someone respectable-ish, eccentric, skilled in what they do and someone who had a skill-set that was similar enough in what he knew to get away with.

Talbot was a strange fucker anyway; he’d believe that Xanxus had ended up in the past, in a probably parallel world.

Turns out the fucker did believe Xanxus; in return, Xanxus got a place to stay well away from the complications of being a lone Sky in mafia territory, something to eat and a technical apprenticeship.

When he wasn’t taking care of the the shitty fucker’s sheep anyway. Or the horses. He had learned how to shoe a horse and other particulars of ranching. He had also made improvements to his guns, sleeked them down and made them look less anachronistic. He’d also stopped caring about how he sounded and let the slum sound more in his voice. His rebellion of all the things the Vongola made him into went beyond the fur tail, feathers and sloppy tie.

One of his first creations made him look respectable to those without Active Flames. Because fuck was he could to wear an entire suit ensemble as respectable men with means did. He wasn’t going to follow Talbot in the ‘mohawk and pancho’ combo so braids decorated with whatever, and an increasingly intricately patterned leather jacket would do. The trousers were leather too -if stained dark- and it was a sad day when his future silk boxers gave up the ghost.

Somehow a year or so after ending up in the past and not having managed to kill each other nor end up in oodles of debt to Talbot for material costs -exchanged for future knowledge of things Xanxus can’t effect in theory- his ‘apprenticeship’ is considered more or less over.

And then were some shenanigans with the mafia later as Talbot took him to met the now-Vongola while being a creepy not-fairy not-godparent to Nono Vongola’s eldest was Christened.

In retrospect, while sailing to Mafia Land, he has probably convinced Nono that he is related to the brat Nono eventually takes out of the slums. Hopefully not directly related but whatever. If he’s still around when his past self is born, he can adopt himself or something because being stuck in this alternate timeline or whatever is obviously not something fixable.

Mafia Land in the past is a lot more overtly violent than the civilized theme park of the future, but the guilds are already there and having reached Mafia Land in the first place he’s allowed to pick up any entry level work he wants. Tricking the clerks is absurdly easy really, which lets him build up a small fortune in a few months by skipping the easy-shit and into things the Varia might do, with a bit of theft on the side.

Also Mafia Land being a traveling island? He’s felt Fon in passing, had to stop himself from running towards Viper and has arranged for something like a small apartment building with a basement converted into a workshop and a spare room to be built near the mountain.

Some people see it as something of an affront -a large building in sole ownership to a person and not a group- but those people tend to leave the island after making a fuss. Scandals, emergencies at home and so on. He has plenty of methods and hasn’t been idle in making connections so not all of it has been messy murders. Just only if they hadn’t got the point previously.

People adjust and eventually leave the place be, no matter who owns it. He can’t exactly have an evil lair but even security would rather contact him through the phone than brave the traps or layers of security.

Which is what makes getting the letter from who Mammon called ‘The Man in the Iron Hat’ so surprising. Surprising enough that he spins and nearly clips the not-human with a white-hot piece of metal.

Xanxus tells the fucker he’ll think about this ‘strongest seven’ deal and decides to deal with his emotions being all over the place after this order is done.

Xanxus goes to the meeting and meets the individuals with strong personalities that would eventually be turned into Arcobaleno.

He had heard about this first meeting where Luce was bribing them with cookies one evening from Mammon. Not having been born a woman, nor having a motherly demeanor under all the traditional Giglio Nero shaman wear turned casual Xanxus is obviously not going to have the same success with the ‘I’m made of love and sweetness’ routine.

Wearing his favorite leather duster was inevitable for all that it could almost pass as suit-quality in dim enough lighting. The white collared shirt and tailored slacks was his concession to the formality of the ‘first impressions’ that the fuck-off boots and his general attitude ruined. His hair was pulled into a ponytail on his left shoulder, smaller braids and feathers attached.

It was something like punk cowboy but with more feathers. And it got him looks, which he ignored as he took the chair at the head of the table, leaned back in it with his feet on the table.

And then he closed his eyes after looking them all over in a way no one could miss. Provocation no one could miss.

One brawl later had demolished most of the chairs into splinters and had shattered the table -thanks Fon, for all that Xanxus had thrown him into it- and most of them had various stages of black eyes, bloody noses and headaches.

Xanxus is nursing a black eye and cracked ribs but no one had drawn an actual weapon and he’s not the only one smiling. Lal looks like she wants to rip someone’s balls off and Fon looks like a mass-murdering madman who wants to eat someone’s face and Reborn is trying to look bored and ready for any challenge while trying to hide how bad Lal fucked him up for the ‘man protecting the obvious woman routine.’

“Now that we’ve all taken each other’s measure, we can now be civil enough to introduce ourselves, the basics of what we can do and so on because a suspicious fucker decides to drop oodles of money for having us on standby while he lines up some paydays for us that would involve our of all skills at some point or another, along with various activities that we’ll go along with while being paid in the name of team-bonding exercises.” Which is a nice little speech that says ‘not an idiot, something is suspicious but I’m not inclined to look too deep into things, yet.’ Also it’s in English, so hopefully everyone will follow suit.

“Soldier-lady, start.” He snaps out in a command voice and like a good soldier she obeys. “Name you wish to be known as, general skills and experience.”

Then she goes silent for a brief second before answering. “Lal Mirch. Special forces operative ace.” A moment. “Trained in sabotage and amphibious combat as well.”

“You in the hood, hiding.”

“Viper. Information broker. Anything more and I’ll charge you for it.”

Not unexpected.

“The white coat.”

“Verde. Weapons dealer and engineer with degrees in other sciences.”

He had thought that Verde got into weapons dealing after being turned tiny. Guess not.

“More leather than me, next.”

“Skull de Mort. World famous stuntman!”

“Haven’t heard of you.” Xanxus says, causing the Cloud to drop dramatically to the floor. “You in the red who cracked my ribs.”

“Fon is how I heard my name turned Western before. Martial artist of some fame in certain circles, is phrase I believe.”

Having never have heard Fon speak English before, it was more fluent than he had thought. Still had all the tale-tells of book-language learning compared to experienced fluency.

“Suit-and-tie gentleman,”

“Reborn. World’s Greatest Hitman, five years running.”

Less impressive when you consider that the ‘world’ he was referring to was mostly Italy and Europe but still impressive.

“Xanatos. Skilled in some things more than others and would rather be anywhere else if I weren’t curious.” And that was a twitch in Reborn’s Flames; he was going to make the accent all the worse around him for that reason alone.

“You’re an unusual choice,” Viper said, bluntly.

“It’s obvious what they’re going for, since few family heads would have the amount of free time and ability to drop out of things for however long this series of jobs takes.”

Skull and Lal look varying degrees of confused, Verde looks like he figured it out and judging by feel Fon and Reborn knew what this set-up was.

“So for Freelancers and those unattached?”

“Looks like,” he drawled, enjoying how irritating Reborn found it. “So while we’re enjoying hospitality in the middle of nowhere, let’s find rooms and settle in real quick like so the table and chairs can be replaced since they were broken in the name of ‘team bonding’ it ought ta be allowed.”

Early on it is established that Xanxus as Xanatos has at least one language in common with everyone, Viper is a cheating fuck when it comes to languages, and Verde’s genius brain worked on five languages learned when he was young. Reborn’s isn’t a slouch either but has his accent perfect when he wants it to be.

Xanxus’s gutter accent, complete with mish-mash of expletives from everywhere got on Reborn’s every snotty academic nerve, was incomprehensible to Verde and Lal Mirch who did know Italian and Viper found it amusing. Skull asked for lessons, in which Xanxus showed off he could speak Italian properly while explaining things to the utter newb… he just wasn’t inclined to speak properly.

There were other shenanigans, such as Lal’s trying to not be obvious crush, Viper’s general admiration and Skull being the yappy puppy that was slowly acquiring a bite. Discussing food and philosophy with Fon and explaining scientific Flame principles to Verde while goading Reborn. Xanxus might have flirted a little to throw Reborn off-guard, who reacted to it poorly.

Also Xanxus learned that he could hammer a nail in straight-ish as Reborn shooting at him in irritation and wounded ego meant that Xanxus shot back. And Xanxus left a much larger hole in the wall.

It was pretty awkward for a few weeks until they killed a few people nearly two months later, after which the bored scientist took out his homebrewed hooch -some things never changed with scientists no matter how genius so inappropriately used scientific equipment or kitchen equipment for food and alcohol purposes was expected at some point.

The majority of them having hangovers when climbing up that fucking mountain slowed them down the next morning, so Colonello who’s been stalking Lal gets shot at and captured. Xanxus and Lal, not amused to see her stalker gag him and bind him to a rock while Xanxus makes a comment of wishing for an eagle to eat his liver.

They reach the top of the mountain and are Cursed; Xanxus having expected this to be another one of those stupid scavenger hunts team-building exercises says lots of things that shouldn’t be repeated since the date is different and earlier.

Colonello having been tied to a rock most thoroughly does not fuck up the Curse for Lal and tie their Flames together so well that Lal all but looses her Rain Flames and fucks up her mental state to be somewhat dependent on him.

Xanxus is pissed but he’s Pissed with a Plan about doing something concerning these pacifiers and the Curse. Viper is also Pissed and Verde would like to Science the Shit Out of This so he can get rid of it. Being tiny is terrible.

Being a Ring Smith, Xanxus knows some more about magic than the average joe. He had been expecting some sort of betrayal, soon-ish but not like this which means the Arcobaleno are a lot more unified after since they weren’t betrayed by someone they trusted to watch out for them by seeing the future and having proved that they could.

Being an assassin, he knows it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission and so sets up a system to ease the burden; he’s not sure if that or Colonello being prevented from interfering has this effect but he doesn’t die in ten or so years since that’s the expected Sky Arcobaleno turn-over rate.

He’s also all but taken over Mafia Land at this point since he needed something to do and Skull is with him, managing the entertainment. The kids love him, okay? The rest of the Arcobaleno visit, having their own areas and own sort of peace; sure they’re still toddlers but Xanxus’s sneaky-Flame-stealing system makes them feel less like they’re Atlas. Especially as Xanxus expands and further modifies it because the Pacifiers while unmatched as Flame-focuses are also terribly designed in the whole tri-ni-sette system. Is an Engineering Travesty, okay.

Thirteen years to the day after being Cursed, Xanxus and the rest of the Arcobaleno manage to slip out of the pacifier around their necks under Talbot’s supervision which brings Kawahira running and Xanxus trying to have a civil discussion about how the Pacifiers work before the Vindici show up.

Which doesn’t happen but the Vindici get pwned and Xanxus and Talbot get answers from Kawahira which is not as informative as it should be. See, Kawahira really believed in this -his people died for it- but Skull is the one that says it sounded like a doomsday cult, who was trying to turn the Earth into a bomb by feeding it lots and lots of Flames without any regulation beyond ‘more input here’ and hoping it balances out, which takes more Flames to do.

Kawahira makes a strategic retreat after removing the Curse, Xanxus passes on the maintenance and establishment of more of his Flame-Controllers to the Vindici since they’re not going to live forever and the Vindici are about as ancient as Talbot but much more active.

Anyway, the get to grow up again which is full of fun times when you consider that Skull’s had twenty years under a good teacher and leader who wouldn’t abide Reborn’s abuse to someone that ignorant and is happy to be the very nice until he’s not guarddog of Mafia Land.

Xanxus does not enjoy puberty the second time around either much like Fon, but Verde has fun blowing up stink bombs and more in the homes and business of people he doesn’t like. The easy way to manage Verde and his paranoia is to get him somewhat high and enjoy his company as between that, coffee and being intelligent enough to understand what he’s saying. Reborn goes on a brief killing spree, somehow getting people to believe that he’s another person now that he’s no longer a toddler. Viper is similar but has scammed and bankrupted several companies as something to do so as to not think about hormones. Lal Mirch ends up burying her one time student as thirty years later she is a teenager and he is a perverted old man who is obsessed with her. Fon on the other hand has ended up in Hollywood somehow, which Xanxus and Verde and Viper had nothing to do with. Honest. Wrong planes and strange coincidences happen like that sometimes. The promise of black eyes is worth it, really.

Honestly their Antics are the Stuff of Legend and the Underworld DREADS the day they’re all go out to drink. Which is hilarious as Reborn and Verde are the social drunks, Skull gets hyper before he passes out and Fon is the lightweight that can almost get drunk off the smell of alcohol alone. He also just goes to sleep so it’s safe to say that drunken kung-fu only happens when Fon is attacked while passed out. Lal’s not one to indulge and Xanxus no longer drinks as much since he’s gone to the alternate timeline; no one is constantly bringing up a rigged failure.

Once they’re close enough to adults, Xanxus and Lal finally work out things that professionalism and then Curse had prevented and aren’t seen for a week. They’re rather prone to disappear for lengthy amounts of time after.

(Xanxus has always been weak to Rains, loyal beyond measure with high standards and prideful.)

It’s only when they start thinking about who to invite to the inevitably chaotic wedding that Xanxus remembers he should have been born by now and so whisks his mother and his unfairly adorable past self away from the slums. It’s pretty obvious that they’re related, they just don’t know how and his mother is just a few years too young to have feasible come from his loins since he’d have been physically two at the time.

So his mother becomes his not-all there niece born to his older sister who had disappeared on him, raised by a cabal of prostitutes after her mother died due to a violent client which is true enough since social records are a bitch to find when they don’t exist anymore. Verde, not being super paranoid does not do a genetics test on all of them to prove they’re related but instead has found a medication for his niece so she’s more coherent and present and functioning.

Little Xan is adorable and thinks he might be Vongola because his mother said so and so Verde breaks out the genetics testing kit with stolen samples as needed and has Xanxus and Xanatos as a lab assistant since this is what Little Xan wants to know for his birthday. He’s not Vongola but having not believed this for over half his life and having people who care about him makes this much less a blow. Also Mafia Land is way cooler because travel and adventure than just being stuck in the Iron Fort where people insist on being proper.

Upon hearing that Squalo Superbi took over the Varia, Xanatos the father to two daughters and one son (two if you count his distant nephew) decides to send the shark tickets.

Squalo spends about a month or so confused after while getting the Varia in order and decides to bring a few people with him, to the theme park that is also home to the Arcobaleno and their Evil Lair, which after nearly fifty years is not limited to a small apartment building.

Three days later, he’s laughing as clearly Xanxus and the Shark now run the Varia much to the Underworld’s concern as they know Xanxus from Mafia Land and not just gossip circles.

Less than a year later, after false accusations and one attempted assault by a ‘superior’ Xanxus resigns from the Varia. Along with most of the assassins and they all go to Mafia Land.

Xanxus’s comment of, “they followed me home, can I keep them?” is met with lots of love and affection.

Other happenings so that this can end:

Xanxus eventually ends up taking over Mafia Land from Xanatos; Xanatos retires from the day to day managing and leaves it to Xanxus. The Varia enjoy living on the island and since the island moves, travel costs are much diminished so long as they time it right.

Eldest daughter is so gay for Aria. So Gay. Xanxus is vaguely disapproving but not seriously until they both end up pregnant. By the same guy as DNA tests would later prove, at the same time and have not-twins but close enough we’re calling them that despite different mothers and different wombs.

Only Son ends up as a Terrifying Chef. Bianchi is In Love. Neither Xanxus or Lal know how he ended up with cooking talent. Fon’s revenge for that Hollywood stunt, really.

Youngest daughter has been saying she’s going to marry Fon’s grandson since she met him and was able to talk coherently-ish. Which is about two.

Reborn’s Alternative Identity known as Rebotwo does end up tutoring Dino, but less tormenting and more teaching since idiots need the basics explained before you can wail on them.

Iemitsu does eventually marry and have a son with Nana. Both Nana and Tsuna end up on Mafia Land when Xanxus’ youngest daughter declares that Tsuna is her pet and Nana is her pet’s caretaker. (The perils of taking in stray assassins like they were strange animals is that younger siblings mimicked their older ones.)

Byakuran does not end up with Mare Rings and so doesn’t take over the world.

Timoteo’s sons do live, although there were some close calls. Nono Vongola steps down after the last nearly-dead incident as his heart attack was quite public and his health wasn’t the same after.

#Izzy answers #shroudthecursedone #this thing never wanted to end #never #please review #even if you can see exactly where Izzy stopped caring and tried to get it to end

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 1X13 - Whatever Happened to Frederick?

Hi! Hope you’re having a good day! Want to hear me yammer on about this episode for three pages?

Sure you do! Right under the cut!

Press Release With their love for each other growing stronger, David finally agrees to tell Kathryn about his relationship with Mary Margaret and put an end to his loveless marriage. Meanwhile, in the fairytale land that was, while runaway groom Prince Charming searches for Snow White, he agrees to aid Abigail on a dangerous mission to recover something precious that was lost to her. General Thoughts Past The story in the past works, but I felt that for all the screentime Charming go, his character got very little out of it, for the story refused to engage with the conflict he was given. Snow rejected him, and while he feels sad and hurt, we don’t get a sense of what that action was driving him to do. He left Abigail, but what was he planning on doing next? What did this adventure do to re-route his journey so he’d go back to Snow? Look at “7:15AM’s” flashback: Snow is intending on going back to Charming, but a threat makes her ward off. Here, we have the event that changes, but because we don’t know what his plan was, there’s a loss of balance here. It’s not the most important thing, but for the big moment at the end of the flashback being that Charming will keep fighting for Snow, the contrast to what he was going to do should be wide and because this was undefined, the big moment doesn’t hit home with quite the same force.

I wish the siren would have preyed more on Charming, rather than just asking the audience to believe that Charming’s resolve would plummet so much based off of just seeing her and saying a line or two. While he does fight, I get the sense that we’re supposed to be seeing Charming, on the edge of despair, possibly giving in to something he knows is a lie because he has nothing to live for. However, Charming’s desperation wasn’t built up enough earlier on for that payoff to work. Present I like how we see how even though Emma has arrived and things have drastically improved, Regina’s curse is still very much intact. Everyone is still in this loop of misery, most notably the main players. The storytelling here - while a sad story - is still solidly told, apart from a nitpick or two that I touch upon in my “Insights” regarding Regina and Kathryn. David is still less sympathetic, but for the first time, I get the sense that I’m supposed to believe that because the episode is about him making a wrong choice and feeling the consequences of it. And Mary Margaret is so strong here. She is at once both a hero and a victim. She has the good sense to tell David the right thing to do, hold to her values, even as she’s being attacked, and let David go when he lied to her. At the same time, she received the harshest of blows and it was so sad to see her friends turn on her, and that acts as perfect build up for the next episode. Insights -Unpopular opinion time right off the bat: Holy fuck. Abigail gets the hardest freakin’ time from this fandom (More the GA, but still)! She’s done all of nothing in terms of evil shit and was rude for maybe a full minute of screen time at most! AND we know that she’s grieving! I bet when she’s not grieving, that wit becomes sass the likes of which at least match out other leading ladies and would be adored for it! All the love, Abby! All the love! -Kathryn’s putting in so much effort and is treating herself by following her dreams! You go, sweetie! <3 -Charming, did you hear that “despot’s” speech about how this marriage is going to save a fuckton of people? Like, I know King George is a baddie and his actions totally follow suit, but when I think about that speech and his motivation, I just can’t help but think of everyone who would suffer if Charming just ran off with Snow. Sure, they get the kingdoms anyhow, but he hasn’t thought that far right now! All I’m asking for is just some acknowledgements of his points. -Going back to positivity, I love the way Charming looks at Abigail as she says, “how charming.” He’s like, “that’s my name, don’t wear it out!” -That hat looks so cute on Mary Margaret! Season 1 was just the season of cute hats in Storybrooke (Sans Moe) -”I don’t know if I can.” David, work with me here! I’m trying to like you, here, but you’re not makit it easy! Thank God Mary Margaret is having none of it and is being the kindest version of blunt as fuck here. She’s such a boss! I gotta say, I’m going to miss this more practical side of her once the curse breaks. -August trying to subtly not make this a date is cracking me up! He’s like, “I say you in diapers. Let’s not go there.” But if he wants to talk to be understood, he’s got to pretend to want to show her his wood! XD -I’m reminded of something from TV Tropes: Charming asks Abigail if she’s tried True Love’s Kiss with the same casualness as he would ask about trying chicken noodle soup for a cold! XD -Even before “The Return” airs, we see these little fakeout bits of August’s personality in his physical mannerisms as he handles the pages of the book. He’s meticulous, and of course, that’s so close to Rumple, but it’s like Gepetto, too! - I actually paused as August was adding to the book, but the story bits didn’t look familiar. -I know Regina gets flak for trying to replace Henry’s book with video games (And I won’t pretend that it’s undeserved, circumstances are circumstances, after all), but I think that it’s also a nice gesture to see her trying to give Henry something that relates to his desires for heroism. It shows how on some level, she knows him (Although go on Wikipedia and look up a little company named Nintendo, Gina, kay?) and she wants to take a genuine step towards his happiness in a way that doesn’t endanger her curse. That said, the genre’s all wrong! Come on, Gina! Fantasy and Sci-Fi are two different things (Then again, considering season 2, I can’t blame you for blurring the lines) XD -Regina, what did you expect would happen when you told Kathryn the truth that way? Had you told her earlier, of course she’d be on your side, but right now? No, and why would she? I’m not sure if this scene was written to show that Regina is bad at friendship or that she was trying to steer Kathryn in Mary Margaret’s direction, but either way, this was a weird writing choice! Why not just have her break the news in the first place? And along those lines, why say she buried them if they were just in her office. Saying that she’d never use them would’ve made so much more sense! -Is it just me, or is Charming super cynical and dark in this episode? Like REALLY cynical! I guess i can interpret it as a reaction to Snow’s rejection. -”If you don’t, I will.” Granny, you are too adorable! -Wow, Charming, you have NO resolve! She literally transformed to Snow before your eyes. ...Never mind! -Really? Charming was the first to not give in? Your schtick seems pretty easy to beat. The warriors of the Enchanted Forest must SUCK! -I feel like Kathryn’s apology would’ve come across as so much better if we saw just a little bit more of them together as friends. -Awwww! Swan Believer cuteness!!! That is one excellent surprise tactic on your part, Emma - taking it out juuuuust as Henry’s not looking! I love it! -”I hope you’re right, kid.” That’s a profoundly sad line. Some of the optimism Emma’s been building up has been tarnished over those last few episodes after the Town Hall incident -I love that little smile Red gives as Charming tells her he’ll find Snow. He’s definitely won her approval! -Warrior King George! I really wish he showed up more, the more I watch him! Arcs David and Mary Margaret finding each other - I really didn’t have a problem with the writing of this part of the episode. David comes off as such a shitty person, but he gets the consequences of that behavior and it works really well. Snow and Charming finding each other - There’s a sting to Charming throughout the episode from Snow’s rejection back in the “7:15” flashback, and while that makes sense from a character standpoint, it’s a little confusing from a point of conflict. Charming has all the darkness of someone who is giving up on love (Or at least feels the pain of unrequited love), but he’s still just as strong in his efforts to find Snow as he was before she rejected him. There’s a weird dissonance in that respect. At the end of the flashback, Charming going after Snow is supposed to be this big and epic decision, but I never believed that he was actually stopping his pursuit of her. The Mystery of August Booth - We see the payoff of August having the book, and his mystery develops as we now want to know not only what he added to the book, but why it was added. Kathryn Nolan Abduction Arc - We’ve started here! Gold, you little shit! Don’t abduct people! Favorite Dynamic Emma and August. Their dynamic made me smile so hard and it was a relief in a very negative episode. Once again, their banter is like watching two master swordsman spar. August always knows just what questions to answer and just what quips to make to get Emma to go along with his schemes. Meanwhile, Emma learns more about August with every word spoken to her and uses his as well as her own lines of logic to learn more about him. It makes for something really fun to watch. August’s use of language is...not exactly flowery (I’d reserve that word for Rumple and Killian), but at the same time, there’s this weary wisdom to it with a touch of pomp and circumstance. But at the same time, Emma’s lines don’t come off as static or boring because she builds off of what he says in her own way. Writer We’ve got David Goodman at bat once again! So, I noticed a pattern, In both “The Price of Gold” and “True North,” I discussed the lack of strength in the story coming from one character in the past. And once again, as I’ve said earlier, I find the writing for Charming a little lacking in the past. We see bitterness, but it’s directionless bitterness without a point of contrast, and that’s really sucky. That said, his work in the present is very solid. The stories are told simply and well with moments to establish character and conflict. Rating 8/10. This was a really unpleasant episode to watch, for some pretty obvious reasons. Watching people be harsh with each other is never appealing and there’s little charm in this story where one can take a breather, apart from Emma and August’s scenes and Emma and Henry’s scenes. It’s also a little boring at times. That said, is it bad? Well, no. Unpleasantness doesn’t necessitate badness. Mary Margaret and Abigail/Kathryn come off as amazingly sympathetic and the fallout for David’s bad choice is so strongly shown. However, my problem lies in the past, as I stated before, and I know it may not be a big point for you, reader, but for me, this is like watching “Dumbo” and never being shown Dumbo’s mom being taken away: A crucial piece of the story is missing. ()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Thank you all for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this project together! Come back next time to see whether or not that episode is a dream come true! Season Tally (109/220) Writer Tally for Season 1: A&E (31/70) Liz Tigelaar (17/20)* David Goodman (24/50) Jane Espenson (26/60) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (19/40) Daniel Thomsen (8/10)* (* = Their work for the season is complete)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 1x13 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat #basically every character in this episode is discussed #but didn't want to overtag #no ships mentioned today

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seunguacamole · 6 years

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The Composer’s Coffee

He had been intoxicated beyond drunk when he decided to agree to a coffee date with a stranger.

Lee Jihoon was always too buzzed to make practical decisions after being begged (and less than wholeheartedly turned on to the idea) to venture out on yet another Friday night with his ring of long-time friends. The night before, the location of choice (a personal choosing of no other than Boo Seungkwan) was an LGBTQ nightclub buried deep within the liveliness of out-skirted Gangnam. Jihoon, who claimed to be more practical than his fellow students, found it useless to throw himself in a room of other queer, drunk individuals just for nightly fun. He would have much rather been waist-deep in his newest composure class project that was much more extra-credit than required content, but that’s besides the point. With Seokmin’s puppy-dog face and Jisoo’s look of slight terror of going out with three overly flirtatious boys who would probably all flock off to the cutest male they could find without even being a couple of feet into the bar, he didn’t have much of a heart to decline.

That previous night out had fulfilled many, if not all of Jihoon’s expectations. Seokmin didn’t last a full round before finding a talkative date within the joint, and Jeonghan had brought along a taller, very masculine elder, for which they both were out of sight by drink number two. As for his other two friends, Jihoon was just glad the Jeju originate hadn’t vomited on his shoes for the third Friday in a row and unintentionally rendered Jisoo, their designated driver, victim instead.

For Jihoon himself, the producing major of the bunch, had stuck to himself in his usual choice of location. At the bar, last stool, faced at an angle that had the front door in eyeshot, a vodka-coke mixture in his hands. The simple drink was enough to wash him of any stress by the third glass, and his friends always knew where to find him by the end of the night.

He couldn’t recall much from that evening and how he had found himself in such a situation, but Jihoon guesses he was sipping on his third or so round of the liquor and soda combination when he was approached. Bright hair and a wide smile was all the boy could conjure up to memory of his date’s appearance, and that he mentioned his name began with an S. At least he hoped it began with an S.

Yes, the date. Apparently, as the story goes by telling of the always-reliable Jisoo, the basically stranger had got to talking with Jihoon, and there were enough clicks for the composer to agree to a casual date at a local cafe for mid-morning coffee after they had both been given time to sober up.

This all leaves Jihoon here and now, staring himself up and down in his hall mirror, wondering if a long-sleeved t-shirt and black skinnies were too casual for the event. He hadn’t been on a proper date in quite some time, honestly. Ever since Jihoon had come to university to throw himself even further into musical studies and creations than he had before, there was little time left for sleeping regularly, much less dating in general. Although as badly as he would have rather been in his studio, working the weekend away, he would have had too much guilt weighing his creative flow down if he had cancelled on somebody who as his friend had said, seemed very interested and ecstatic for their alcohol-free meet up.

Once he had deemed himself ready as he ever would be, Jihoon headed out into town and in direction of the shop they had talked about. He could only hope that the mystery boy remembered their meeting through one of his sober friends, who had pulled him out of the club shortly before his own friends had done the same for Jihoon himself. Since they hadn’t had the time to exchange numbers, a rather stupid move, Jihoon only hoped he wouldn’t be stood up, wasting a good chunk of time that could have been used working.

Jihoon located and entered the cafe just a couple of minutes passed the time he was told they had scheduled. Ordering a straight black coffee to soothe the fading, yet still apparent hangover pouncing within his poor forehead, Jihoon chose a table near the rear of the shop where he would have a perfect view of the entrance.

Only two sips in, it seemed too good to be true. The miniature bell above the swinging door chimed, cashing Jihoon to raise his eyes from the patterned tabletop, gazing at the newcomer. Alas, it was only a woman and her small child coming in for an early lunch of croissants.

Disappointment of wasted time was suddenly everything on Jihoon’s inpatient mind, throwing ideas of leaving his overly bitter beverage behind, heading straight for campus and giving up on the basically blind date. He really was contemplating such a thing, due to the boy being over fifteen minutes late, something that truly was a large pet-peeve to Jihoon. Moments passed of thinking over the idea, and the musical major was on board. He was a mere centimeter off of his seat when his thought process had been broken by what had seemed to be the barista calling his name.

“Jihoon?” An unfamiliar voice broke the silence in the calm store, causing the owner’s eyes to glance up. Jihoon was met with an older-seeming boy with fiery-hued hair with his head cocked to the side in question. To Jihoon’s relief, it hadn’t been the barista, who had chocolate-chip colored hair and stood much taller than this boy. Instead, the newcomer to the shop stood just above Jihoon himself, and seemed much more cheery than the grouch behind the counter.

“Ah,” Jihoon hummed, smiling slightly, awkwardly, at his supposed date, sitting back in his seat. “You must be...” He passed, thing for a moment. As irritating as it was not to recall his own date’s name, he would hope the high liquor content in his body from the night before would be a decent excuse to his forgetfulness. “Sungjae?” Jihoon finally spat out in full uncertainty.

The red-toned-haired boy laughed, his chuckle refreshing and genuine, shaking his head. “I’m Soonyoung, Kwon Soonyoung. It’s nice to soberly meet you.” The male introduced, bowing his head in a casual, respectful manner from across the small table.

Jihoon couldn’t remember the last time he had been so rich into conversation without zoning out every few sentences. Now known as Soonyoung, had a bubbly way of speaking, and spoke about many interesting and relatable topics that Jihoon could also put much word into. The banter was passed like the world’s most successful game of basketball, never a dull moment in their words. Eventually, Jihoon brought up a casual question. He asked Soonyoung where he was working or if he was a student and where after informing him of his own position in life.

“I’m a choreographer at a small entertainment company.” Soonyoung answered, going to part his lips for further speech on the subject. “The group I’m working with has a lot of dancing potential, but we’re having trouble with their original music. We can’t come up with much with what we have, but these kids really deserve a killer debut, you know?”

In fact, Jihoon did know. He had trapped himself within his studio, composing handfuls of songs which didn’t relate to his classwork due to which he couldn’t see being a solo. The assorted pieces were much more upbeat and the more he thought on it, could have dance numbers pieced to the melodies with enough time and effort. Those songs had much of Jihoon’s heart put into them to just sit in a flash-drive for nobody to hear.

“I think I might know how to help.” Jihoon cracked a genuine smile, eyes locked on Soonyoung’s. By now, he had completely forgotten about his hangover and was much more immersed in the conversation and his date himself. “Meet me here tomorrow, same time, and I’ll bring my laptop. I’ll even pay for your drink.”

It really was an offer Soonyoung couldn’t refuse, and Jihoon knew exactly this when he saw the spark glisten in his date’s eyes. He felt it too.

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daretogobeyondtheunknown · 6 years

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Claire

Kal El and Lois were in town.

When she had first arrived, Kal El had flown to National City to extend his welcome. He looked nothing like the infant Claire felt she had just held. If it wasn’t for the angling in his jawline or the gentle smile that reminded her so very much of her uncle, Claire might never have guessed the grown man was once that small infant.

Well, sort of.

Following that day, Kal El established himself on a routinely basis in her life: one visit a month and a quick bi-weekly call. It felt methodical and always focused on subjects laced hesitation. As if Kal El were uncomfortable or unsure how to appropriately address the matter or perhaps her existence in general.

More often than not, Claire could hear or see in the background the encouraging - or teasing - remarks of Lois Lane.

It confused her, the way Lois spoke so casually to Kal El, especially when in the grace of others. Her parents had instilled in her an unwavering sense of propriety and Claire had spent many nights wondering if it was simply the unfortunate side effects of life on this planet.

Or rather, this planet’s effect on her species and other non-native species.

“Claire?”

It had all led into extensive research into curbing the effects on herself.

“Yes, Kal El?”

But that was another matter altogether and Claire needed to remain present, mindful of her surroundings and the conversations they held. Kal El always tried his best to involve her in discussion, perhaps as not to exclude her from the feeling of being with the “adults”. Or at least, that seemed to be how a fellow classmate had described it.

Honestly, Claire could care less. As kind as Kal El might be, his perchance to treat her with great caution and to stumble around Kryptonian historical data with the same grace as a newborn child was painful to say the least.

“Would you like to go for ice cream after?”

After referred to the current restaurant setting.

It seemed like a commemoration of sorts, dressed in finer wares, circumventing the more traditional take out for a sit down meal. Whether it was Kal El, Lois, Kara or Alex, somewhere someone had arranged for the five of them to spend an evening together.

“From the place with the fascinating cones and assorted toppings?”

Claire noted how Kal El always appeared uncomfortable with her use of Kryptonian in a public setting. It was as if her words were an allergian and its physical manifestation was to cause Kal El to squirm uncomfortably or scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck.

Kal El never responded in anything but English.

She had overheard him once, something to do with safety and blending in. But Kara and Alex had never expressed those same sentiments and had graciously never forced Claire to speak this planet’s native tongue - within the confines of their home or the open space of the masses.

“Of course.”

“We can max out on all the toppings again.”

Lois had an infectious enthusiasm and it brought a slight curl to the corner of her lips.

It wasn’t that Claire was unhappy but rather that she was bored. The restaurant, while Claire had enjoyed the finer tastes on Krypton, felt stifling and Claire felt odd and out of place. She had come to enjoy the nights wedged between Kara and Alex on a couch that was not quite meant to fit them.

It felt like the home Claire no longer had.

Claire turned, seeking the attention of Kara and Alex. Though Claire could still paint vividly the colour of her mother’s eyes and the dimples of her father’s cheeks, she understood they were gone. And in the place of such a loss, Claire had earned Kara and Alex.

At first it had felt grating, a mar against the Kryptonian pride, of Houses and classes and one day destined for elite roles. Claire was meant to be great, to stand tall alongside her parents, clothed in robes signifying prowess, power and prestige.

She was meant to lead nations.

To become of a child of Earth with all the idioms and bureaucracy, that made her incapable in almost every sense, was demoralizing. Infants on Krypton were treated with more wherewithal than most young adults on Earth. If it had been on Krypton and her parents had passed, Claire would have been deemed fit to stand trial to take the seat of her house, to lead the House of El to greatness.

Learning to yield to the council of Kara and Alex had been a humbling experience Claire would have never had to face, on Krypton.

“Mothers’?”

Claire ignored the way Kal El’s fork and knife scraped across the dinner plate. If her use of her native tongue threw him then her use of the word mother hurtled him through light years worth of space.

But again, Claire hardly cared, focused intently on the two women she had come to see as motherly figures who constantly rose to the new challenges to be deserving of such a title.

“Kal El has made the suggestion of ice cream. I wish to go. May we?”

Well perhaps not always Kara because when she released a sound of such excitement it made her ears ring and her vision cross. How they were ever the same was a concept all too lost of Claire.

“Ice cream!”

* * *

“Excuse me sir.”

Claire drew to a halt, impeded by a short plump woman with rosy cheeks and the most obnoxious voice. It reminded her of the many nights spent listening in on meetings of the Council.

“Yes?”

It was as if the title of each House brought with it an air of arrogance and superiority that bled through the many voices. It was neither good nor bad, it simply just was and until Claire had experienced an excursion to the outer edges of Krypton, to Houses of far less significance there was no other tone to compare it to.

Well, aside from the tone of her own and her dearest, beloved family, who set Claire with an understanding that they were just different and so she had never thought much more of it.

“You have a beautiful family. Normal. Not like all those misguided ones who just can’t be right out there.”

Claire took a moment to basket in the way Kal El’s facial features flushed and any pattern of speech withered on the proverbial vine. He looked like the gaping fish she had seen on a visit to the aquarium with Alex and Kara. Winn Scott might have also tagged along. His impression of the fish had been startlingly accurate and Claire had grown to like him a little more.

“I- she- we-”

But Kal El was pitiful, truly, and if the shaking of Lois’s head was any indication, Claire felt she agreed.

“While he might be of age, he is fortunately only a cousin. One I know far too well.”

Images of a much younger Kal El spewing bubbles of ill intention as he refused to dawn his ceremonial robes conjured in her mind. If he had been able to speak, Claire imagined he would have spouted off something about freedoms and rights to all and the robes being an age old recognition of oppression.

Kal El, no matter the shifts in time, would always be the tiny infant with a flare for defiance and an ability to squirm his way out of all forms of clothing.

“They are my parents.”

Claire motioned towards the table they had come from.

Alex and Kara had remained seated, Kara adamantly attempting to pocket a few snacks for the road while Alex was equally adamant that sticky toffee cake did not bode well midflight.

Apparently it was spoken from experience.

Sticky toffee cake would have been nice. But from the furrow in Alex’s brow and the pinch in her shoulders, Claire surmised ice cream would be ample and had not pushed the subject.

Kara on the other hand?

“Wh- Oh.”

The former boastfulness tilt and the high drawn shoulders deflated. This woman too could gape like the aquarium fish and Claire had to bite her tongue to still the very thought from flowing out. Alex had said it was not of sound mind to point out the flaws, miscalculations and inconsistencies of others. It echoed a similar sentiment her biological mother had shared on Krypton.

Not that Claire succeeded well at it, rather she was aware of it and mindful to it. Especially after the incident with the officer of the law and the crazed dog lady. Claire truly did not need a repeat of such an ordeal.

“I will admit, at first I was leary as well. One was far too in love with life and had an enthusiasm that felt disastrously contagious. The other was, well, too maternal to an unwanted intrusion in life.”

Claire imagined it was not the response the woman had originally intended. Her head swiveled from the table to Claire to Lois and Kal El then back all over again. It looked ridiculous and all Claire wanted was ice cream and not some woman making assumptions about an already sore subject in her life.

Not that she would have known.

“I will pass along your kind words once they are finished arguing over sticky toffee cake. As for my cousin, I am sure he and his bonded will be suitable parents in the unforeseen future.”

With tact, as Alex would say, and with a smile, Kara would add. Though if Claire was honest, if the upward curl of her lips looked anything like felt, it was a grimace at best and the tact was thinly veiled.

“Claire, your mother is such a dessert dictator!”

Rolling her eyes - fighting away the genuine upward curl to her lips - Claire wondered how her life had become such. An elderly woman with assumption, a Kal El as red as the House of El crest embroidered to his chest, a thoroughly amused Lois and a tutting Alex quite literally pushing her whining other self from the table.

Rao had the oddest sense of humour.

“Kara, we are going for ice cream, for crying out loud!”

And yet maybe it wasn’t and Rao had given Claire this new family for a very specific reason. Because somehow, they made her heart well and her cheeks hurt and they chased away the loneliness as the light illuminates the darkness.

Maybe Rao gave her this world - this life - to prepare her for the role in her own.

Whatever the reason might be Claire found it herself slipping in, metaphorically melting into the over the top nature of Kara and food or Alex and protecting.

#kalex #alex x kara #kara x alex #alex danvers #kara danvers #fic: claire #musings #writings

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