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majorsoapfan · 3 years

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The Umbrella Academy Season 3 Episode Titles Analysis

Now that the episode titles for season 3 have dropped, I’ve spent the last few days wondering and theorizing just what they could mean. Most of what I’ve gotten so far rests on symbolism, headcanons, potential theories and a lot of googling, but we all need some way of staying sane until season three drops, right?

Now this is just what I’ve come up with so far, I could be massively wrong in all of these, but these are just my predictions based on what I know of the characters and plot so far, previous ways of naming episodes and the very little I know of the comics.

Meet The Family

Now this one is very self-explanatory and we’ll most likely get to know our birdies very well in this episode. We’ll probably be seeing a flashback to the Sparrows as children fighting crime - maybe already being better at it than their Umbrella counterparts were when they first started.

I’m hoping that we’’ll see another montage of introducing the siblings as adults like we saw in season one with our Umbrellas - which had been so helpful to me at the time as I had started watching the show about a week before season two dropped. I had known absolutely nothing about the show when I started, I had only clicked on it because Robert Sheeran was in the card as Klaus with his pink umbrella and I thought he was pretty. I became a massive fan all because I had thought Robert was pretty and I was bored.

So yeah, I loved the initial introduction montage of the siblings as it helped me figure out who was who quickly without wasting time. And I think that doing something similar for the Sparrows will also help give a better and quicker insight into their personalities and how they work when we see them in episode one.

The World’s Biggest Ball of Twine

If you google ‘ball of twine’ it does mention that this is an archetype for an odd roadside attraction. Now if we’re going literal here, there are plenty of such attractions in the States, including one of just this in Texas, where our dysfunctional family had been last season. Maybe an indication of a road trip or even them fleeing the Sparrows and New York in order to regroup and figure out their next step without the birds circling in?

Ball of twine can also mean wrapping really strongly around something, especially as the material mentioned is usually very strong and durable. A ball of wool isn’t the episode title after all. Now this could mean maybe a family or an emotional issue that is massively at play here. Or more likely, the Umbrella’s and more specifically Five, are trying to figure out their exact steps and actions in the 60′s and just how badly they changed the past and future, both in the general sense of the world and for their own personal lives.

Ball of Twine can also mean wrapping around something tightly, so maybe a trap is being put in place or enacted. Either for the Umbrellas by the Sparrows, or the Umbrellas are trying to lure their counterparts into a trap to regain the upper hand.

Pocket Full of Lightning

Now the first thing that comes to mind when I think of this title is something like this being described or mentioned regarding a character and their abilities. Now the characters that come to mind immediately when referenced to this are either Vanya or Christopher. Or maybe it may have something to do with a team-up, more than likely the Sparrows and what can happen when they team-up and combine their powers.

But lightning also has a lot of symbolism in many different societies and periods and in all honesty, I feel like I have to mention this. Symbolism includes but isn’t limited to: illumination, destruction, punishment, inspiration and revelations. Lightning is also highly associated with the King of the Greek Gods Zeus. Maybe Marcus or Reginald?

Marcus is after all described as a natural leader after all, gaining perhaps a Zeus like image in the public eye?

Whereas Reginald on the other hand would definitely see himself as being as King and acts like it at times, using his children as his soldiers to advance his agendas. Zeus isn’t a very kind or forgiving God either so unlike Marcus maybe this has something to do with the Hargreeves patriarch?

Kugeblitz

Thank you Tumblr for having already given me the definition for this episode title when I had first found out the episode titles so I know that it means a black hole formed from radiation.

Luther and Five when I think of this title in terms of its definition a kugeblitz has me thinking of both space and science, as both topics are highly associated with these characters. Black holes have ties to space which Five who’s powers are teleportation and Luther who spent four years up in space both have ties to a title like this.

But of course we can’t forget the actual alien in the family Reginald Hargreeves. A black hole could be a reference as to what happened to his original planet, or maybe signalling a potential threat later on in the season. Will it cause another apocalypse or a warning for an alien invasion perhaps?

But it also might have links to a well known Umbrella Academy villain, Dr Terminal. I haven’t read the comics so I will admit to a lack of knowledge on this villain although I will Google him later. But as the season will be focusing on the Sparrow Academy and potentially any previous villains, Dr Terminal seems to be the most well known in the fandom and thus the most likely to make an appearance, whether in flashbacks or in person. A few people here seem convinced that this episode title will have something to do with him in some form.

Kindest Cut

When I think of this episode title, my first thought goes of course, to Diego. People can often get cut with knives and they are of course Diego’s preferred weapon of choice.

Maybe however they are referring to another powered sibling and what harm their abilities can cause. Top contenders after Diego of course, are Vanya whose power we know can cut after seeing what she did to Allison at the end of ‘The Day that Was’ in a moment of anger.

But if we go with the Sparrows then Alphonso is at the top of my list. His character sheet is mentioned as him bearing the scars from his years of crime-fighting. His power is assumed to be the voodoo from the comics and if he can transfer the injuries he obtains or inflicts on himself to others, this may be what this title means.

But, and this theory I think is the one that I’m most obsessed with right now, is that the episode title could be an adaptation of the saying ‘unkindest cut’. The definition for this is ‘a cruel or devastating injury or insult inflicted on you by a supposed friend’.

If we go by current timeline we’re in then my money is that Five may be joining the Sparrows either under duress or having worked out an agreement with Reginald that his siblings would be spared if he did. Only his family might not be aware of what Five has planned and agreed to and would only see the apparent betrayal of what they have all gone through together as a family. Of only seeing their brother join the team that probably want them dead.

But this betrayal may also be coming from the Sparrows and Sloane perhaps. Sloane is an inverse of Five in a sense in that while Five is driven by his desire to save his family, Sloane often feels like hers are holding her back from experiencing her dream of leaving. Maybe she betrays the Sparrows in some way by letting an opportunity to capture the Umbrellas flee or seeking them out as allies.

Marigold

According to what I can glean from the comics, marigold refers to the balls of light that eventually became the 43 super-powered children. So could we be getting an explanation as to how these supers came to be and why?

But like with episode three’s episode title, I can’t not mention the symbolism connected to this title. Marigolds often have conflicting symbolism today. In modern western society their bright colours often have them being associated with the sun and positive emotions and energy such as happiness, optimism and good luck. Not what I think the episode will be about.

But on the darker side of things, which is something that I do think has more ties into what to expect, is that they also refer to jealousy, grief, despair, mourning and cruelty. It is a flower associated with death and the Day of the Dead in Mexico and is said to offer protection from evil spirits. This connection with death is what I first thought of when I saw the episode title and the most obvious character associated with Death is none other than our ghost-boy Klaus Hargreeves.

Klaus as a character has a lot of ties to death naturally and I did see a post on here describing how Klaus will be entering the fourth stage of grief which is depression for both Ben and Dave during season three. This makes sense as they are now both gone in a way that not even his powers can reverse nor can he summon their spirits. Marigolds can often symbolize a despaired love and strong passion as well as well as pain and grief, so it could be a reference to Klaus’ depression over permanently losing both his closest brother and his love. But the main reason I do think that this episode does tie in heavily with Klaus is that it’s a mid season episode and so far that’s usually when Klaus undergoes most of his development. Maybe it’ll continue that way in season three.

Of course if Marigold will also represent a despaired love there are other options in the Umbrellas other than Klaus and Dave: Diego with both Eudora Patch (who is possibly still alive in this timeline) and Lila Pitts still bouncing around the timeline. Allison dealing with leaving her 60′s husband Raymond Chestnut and maybe trying to track down her ex Patrick to find out what happened to daughter Claire in this timeline and Vanya with love Sissy Cooper. Or maybe even Five and Dolores or possibly a love interest for Luther could be a reference to this title.

Explaining how the Umbrella and Sparrows came to be wouldn’t take the whole episode giving us time for some potential (doomed) love.

Auf Wierdershen

This is very likely to be a Klaus focused episode, even if Marigold isn’t.

The episode title is German for goodbye and Klaus is the character most associated with Germany. Klaus is the only character to have spoken German during the shows events so far and his name is of German origin (interestingly enough, all of the male Sparrows bar Ben, have their names tied to Germanic origin. Meanwhile, Fei’s name is of Chinese origin, Jayme has both Spanish and Hebrew roots, while Sloane is derived from an Irish surname Ó Sluaghhadáin). Not only that but it is considered fanon that Klaus was born in Germany just like Diego and Vanya’s roots are considered to be Mexico and Russia respectively.

Not only that but he literally has ‘goodbye’ tattooed on his hand.

‘Goodbye’ has many different interpretations for what this could mean especially if this is a Klaus centric episode like we are assuming. And like I mentionned above with Klaus going through the fourth stage of grief in season three, this might be the episode where he moves into the fifth and final stage: acceptance. Perhaps by having one last talk with Umbrella Ben in the afterlife or by trying to track down Dave after Vietnam and discovering he (seemingly - I do have hopes for Commission Dave later on) did live a long and happy life after the war.

Mending fences with Ben and both getting the chance to air their genuine grievances with one another and mend their relationship from the horrific state it was in at the end of season two might help Klaus find closure. Klaus and Ben both love each other but they crossed a lot of lines and hurt each other deeply with their behaviours last season and they deserved the chance to try and fix the issues as well as say a proper goodbye to one another. This could give Klaus the opportunity to say just that as well as moving into accepting Ben’s death once and for all.

And when it comes to Dave, maybe just knowing that Dave moved on can help Klaus move from depression into acceptance. He was more than fine with stopping Dave from enlisting in the army during season two even knowing that it would mean that Dave would never meet or fall in love with Klaus. He was willing to sacrifice his chance at love with Dave if it meant that Dave would survive. Perhaps if he knew that Dave had been happy and safe in his later life he could then move on and say goodbye?

And maybe by coming to terms with the departure of two of the biggest influences in his life, motivate Klaus to embrace a new outlook and control of his life and his powers?

Wedding At The End Of The World

This very clearly has ties to the very first episode of the show which is ‘We Only See Each Other At Weddings and Funerals’. Both have marriage and death connected in their titles. The characters that we know have been married so far out of our Hargreeves family so far is Reginald and Allison.

Reginald was married on his home planet when his wife died. Not a lot is known about her other than she was the original owner of Vanya’s violin in the original timeline. Maybe we’ll get information on her and just why Reginald left his home planet?

The next character married so far is Allison who so far has been married twice already (maybe they’re going three for three this time?). And judging by the episode title in season one, that event was the last time the Umbrella Hargreeves (bar Five) were all together as a family until they arrived for Reginald’s funeral. Maybe there’s a link there.

Or maybe this is referencing a whole other wedding that may be happening during the events of season three? I wouldn’t be surprised if Five reunites with Delores and decides just to get married to make it official. To paraphrase Klaus, it’s probably one of the healthiest relationships that family ever had regarding love.

Six Bells

Now this tile had me stumped for a good bit and it will probably make more sense when season three does drop and we watch the episodes, but for now I can just theories on it.

Bells have often been associated with religious services, which may tie in with the last episode, but can also be rung for important events or in deference of important people.

But what is really getting me is that the title is six bells and there are six Umbrellas left so far. Could the bells be in reference to something regarding them, some sort of trap perhaps? Which will definitely tie in in some way to the seasons finale:

Oblivion

Now like episode one this one seems fairly self-explanatory. This seems like Hotel Oblivion is finally coming into play here, meaning they are probably switching the order of stories from the comics. But the question is: if it is Hotel Oblivion, did the Umbrella’s enter the Hotel/prison out of free will or were they trapped here by the Sparrows? Anything goes at this point considering that it’s the last episode of the season.

But when it comes to the Hotel there are so many possibilities as to what happens here:

- Are all of the Umbrella’s trapped inside or did one escape and their other cell mate is a Sparrow perhaps (Sloane maybe for trying to leave the Sparrow Academy?)

- How will this set up the cliff-hanger for season four? Will all or some of the Umbrella Hargreeves be trapped in the hotel once the season ends and that helps set up the tension for the next season. Or maybe a break out of prisoners just like in the comics occurs and the Umbrella's are forced to deal with it?

-Where will this leave our Sparrows at the season end, because I know that we’re going to get attached (I know I will). Will some of them come with us into season four? Maybe they are split into two teams as the season ends, each containing a mixture of both Umbrella’s and Sparrows?

Well that’s all I have, maybe I’m right about some of it, maybe I’m all wrong, just need to wait until season three to find out.

#the umbrella academy #tua #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #marcus hargreeves #fei hargreeves #alphonso hargreeves #sloane hargreeves #jayme hargreeves #christopher hargreeves #christopher the cube #reginald hargreeves #the sparrow academy

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

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Puppy Scratches

Summary: Virgil has always avoided getting any sort of injury, scared of infection among other things. Now his soulmate has started scratching words onto his skin from the flowers appearing and Virgil has no clue how to stop it or respond.

Warnings: Sort of self-harm

/\/\

Virgil did not like injuries, especially not of the level that would scar. They could get infected, and those stories of people losing limbs were not pure fiction. He did everything he could to avoid getting any injury, despite the encouragement people gave to at least get one.

His soulmate got injured enough for both of them. There wasn't any concern in Virgil's mind that he would recognise his soulmate if they ever met.

What was concerning, if not terrifying, to Virgil was when the scars got extremely pale, and started forming words. Apparently the lack of him getting scars had given the world opportunity to make his soulmate believe he didn't exist.

He spent a week freaking out, rambling about the scars if his friends ever gave him the opportunity. His soulmate getting hurt as much as the flowers suggested had always been concerning, but now it couldn't be anything but deliberate... That was the worst thing Virgil could imagine.

“Can I see these pale flowers you're talking about?” Logan asked, interrupting another ramble where Virgil was torn between trying to respond and the dangers that could cause. Infections were dangerous, and how would he even be able to write something using a knife?

Virgil blinked at his friend before rolling the side of his hoodie and top up. One of the questions had been written over his side in the pale flowers. “Sure, here they're asking for me to exist.” He muttered, thankful they were at his house when the request was made.

It was odd to have Logan move closer, pushing at the hoodie a little more, frowning. “I know better than to say you were lying about those flowers, but have you realised they are no longer visible?” He asked after a moment, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“But- but they were scars. Scars don't disappear do they?” The thought of flowers disappearing astounded Virgil. He'd assumed, as did basically everyone that flowers only appeared for permanent scars, things that wouldn't heal any further.

“I'll have to do some research tonight, but I would theorise that injuries that scab over, even ones that wouldn't leave a permanent scar, will still show up if the scratch is enough to, say momentarily draw blood perhaps.” Logan stood again, fetching his notebook of things to research from his briefcase. “If that is the case, would you be willing for me to scratch a reply onto your skin? I could easily do so in a sanitary way and provide plasters to ensure the wounds remain clean and heal rapidly. It would also reduce the fears you've been expressing that your soulmate might continue to harm themself in an attempt to gain a response.”

Virgil nodded along with the explanation, trying to think through what his friend was suggesting and how it could work. “If you're the one to do the scratching then yeah. I can cope with that I think. Just don't make any deep cuts or anything.”

Whomever his soulmate was, Virgil didn't want any harm to come to them, especially not self inflicted as the words must have been.

/To Remus\

Remus had loved the adventures he'd managed to find over his lifetime, whether they ended in injury or merely in some new discovery he could chase after later. It was something that made him feel alive, wild and excited. He wished he could share the adventures with his soulmate when they met but after years of no flowers appearing against his skin, he was beginning to question if they were out there at all.

It took some of the fun out of getting into ridiculous situations to realise he might not have someone to share the stories with in a few years.

That had been when Remus started paying more attention to Roman an Janus. They'd met in school and had been fairly inseparable as soulmates ever since, but that wasn't what interested Remus. He wanted to know how the scars and flowers worked, whether any would disappear and if there was even a faint chance he could actively try to reach out for his soulmate without touring the world.

He managed one week to scratch Roman's cheek, thankfully on the side that hadn't already been covered in flowers. They'd been play-fighting and it had just happened, but it gave Remus a clear view of where the flowers might appear on Janus, regardless of how covered he attempted to be.

Sure enough, instead of the red tulips they claimed appeared for permanent scars Roman gained, there was a trail of pale pink flowers in the place of the scratch. Remus checked over the following weeks to see when it disappeared, and sure enough, long before the scratch had fully healed there were no flowers visible on Janus's face.

If Roman had known his plan after witnessing that, he'd have done everything he could to prevent it, to force Remus into therapy of some kind and keep him company for as long as possible. Whatever they say about twins having a connection was a lie of superstition and Remus happily traced over words on his skin with a needle until they'd actually scratched into it.

The pain and curiosity over if somehow he'd get a response had been enough to quiet the repeating thought that he had no soulmate or they'd hate him for doing this.

Two weeks passed after Remus had tried to write questions to his soulmate in scratches on his skin. He'd eventually come clean to Roman after a few unexpected hugs and attempts to battle because of some or other absurdity Remus had to share or figure out how to get to. He'd sat through the lecture and Janus's insistence on checking over the scratches with a pout.

You'd think that after all the injuries Remus had lived though the people closest to him would realise he knew how to keep wounds clean and safe. He just didn't always want to enough to miss out on a chance to climb suspension bridges and up onto rooftops.

He'd just gotten up, unbothered about getting dressed while grabbing breakfast and spotted flowers in the mirrors reflection.

There on his arm read “Puppy Village” in pale flowers, possibly lilac but Remus wasn't sure given how close to white the colour was. He now had a new quest to travel the country for, whatever his original intentions for asking if his soulmate existed was.

/Working with Puppies\

Months had passed since Virgil let Logan scratch the name of his workplace onto his side. They'd long since healed and his soulmate hadn't scratched anything else onto his skin, but Virgil still kept an eye out for any more flowers appearing.

He'd had some of the pale green ones appear on his wrists and forearms, as though his soulmate was playing with upset dogs with uncovered skin. They'd all faded with time and Virgil had mentally prepared a number of the lessons and explanations offered to people looking to buy or adopt a dog when they visited his centre.

Part of Virgil had hoped that soon after giving them a clue over where he'd be found someone with a scar on the left of their neck would walk in, introducing themselves as his soulmate. The reasonable side of his brain understood that even in America there could be plenty of places called 'Puppy Village' so even if his soulmate had decided to start trying to look for him, it would take them a while to find him.

Eventually he stopped checking the necks of customers as they came in, deciding to ignore any possibility that his soulmate might come. It was only upsetting Virgil to imagine who they might be and carry on getting no answers regardless.

“I'm here to get cuddles before I'm dragged back to dullville!” A man had tried to kick open the doors, despite them being automatic and already half opened by the time he reached them.

“I assume that means you only intend to help us look after the puppies for an afternoon before leaving town?” Virgil remarked, already moving around the counter.

Occasionally it would happen, generally families trying to decide if they should get a dog, or hoping to convince the kids just how much work and care goes in to having a pet. The occasional tourist wasn't unusual either, although then it would be dog owners from abroad missing their pets at home.

“Any dogs you need looking after... Did you know you have green flowers climbing up your neck?” The man leant far too close to Virgil looking at the flowers and showing off his neck at the same time.

“Have done for years. Kinda curious over the story behind it whenever I meet my soulmate.” Virgil shrugged off the concern, ignoring the scar he could also see as he led the man through to the kennels. “I'm Virgil one of the family for our animals. We treat them all as if they're our own pets until a family arrives to given them a home.”

The man was still trying to stay uncomfortably close to Virgil, looking around at the area, almost as much as he watched Virgil. “Wonderful way to keep them healthy. You know, my soulmate works somewhere called a Puppy Village. Scratched it on when I started to think I might not have any.” The words were deliberately spoken, a laser gaze directed at Virgil's face.

“Does that mean you have a large scar on the back of your calf?” Virgil immediately asked. He knew where all the flowers were on his body, and recognised this man was trying to figure out if they were soulmates. It definitely sounded like they could be.

He'd reached the end of the hallway before he realised the man had sat on the floor to roll up the pants he was wearing. “My right one yes. Got this awesome tattoo on the other and really wanna know how that's appeared on you?”

“Same place the patch I call moss. Logan said it is just a muddled patch, as though there are a lot of the flowers trying to layer up over each other. I guess it's because of how tattoos are done in layers or something.” Virgil muttered. He wasn't going to copy the action. “Get your pants on right, and we can go meet some of my favourite dogs. You need to know how to treat and act around dogs if we're going to be around each other.”

“Awesome, Remus and Virgil the best pairing together. Learnt to be calmer with dogs when I got into a few scraps with them. It got Roman to adopt that dog at least. My brother always was a sucker for a sob story and I definitely made it sound sorry.” Remus cackled, already jumping up again.

Virgil sighed, holding open the door to the kennels for their older dogs. “Glad to hear it. How long do I have you in town before we go to being pen-pals for a while?” He asked, not wanting to immediately let someone in if they'd disappear from his life soon, soulmate connection or now.

“Got a week and then I can get my office to transfer me here in no time. The boss has been looking for an excuse to get me out of there since I started calling him out for the harassment he attempted to do. Can't find an excuse to fire me with Janus on the watch, but also does not want me around.” Remus seemed excited at the plans, even when Virgil knew he had to be basically making it up as he went.

“Are you seriously talking about uprooting your life, just because you met me? Pretty sure anyone normal would want to get to know each other first.” Virgil was sceptical of the idea, but wasn't going to argue. He didn't like the idea of being cities or states away from his soulmate again after they'd just met.

Remus twisted around so much their noses were almost touching. “Is it uprooting if my main friends/ family will literally thank you for giving them a bit of a break from chaos and I can do my job as well from any of our offices? 'Sides, I haven't explored those caves on the lake edge yet and they are just screaming for exploration.”

“Or a cave in. Do you at least know how to get out of them? Or you know mind sharing the stories of the flower patches I'm covered in?” Virgil checked. He had wanted to know something about his soulmate's life with every patch of flowers that appeared. Now he was just a bit confused over how few there were, given Remus seemed set on chasing any impulse he had.

Remus bounced with the question, “Honey, I've been dreaming of sharing those stories with you all my life. Let's meet your dogs and I can start talking too.”

Life with his soulmate around was definitely going to be interesting.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #platonic analogical #background roceit #cw self harm #soulmate au

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crusherthedoctor · 4 years

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Crusher Elaborations #1: Thoughts on the Aesthetic of Sonic’s World

If someone came up to me and asked “Which do you prefer, Classic Sonic or Modern Sonic?”, my answer would start off with “Well, technically Classic Sonic because...”, and then I'd get cut off by the other person immediately lecturing me on why I'm wrong and why I'm the worst kind of fan imaginable. Should they finish their rant, I would then explain to them in the midst of them basking in their flock of easy Twitter likes that I didn't necessarily mean it in the way they predicted.

If we were talking about the games, the characters, or the character design, I'd be fairly neutral, since I like both halves equally for the most part. In fact, when it comes to characters, Modern might actually have the edge believe it or not, since the sheer number of characters introduced from SA1 onwards naturally means a lot of my favourites were introduced from that point on, such as Tikal, Rouge, Gamma, Omega, Blaze... But then again, Classic introduced Eggman and Tails, and the Hard-Boiled Heavies are technically Classic as well despite being relatively new...

Anyway, the point is, I'm not talking about any of that today. I'm talking about the world that Sonic and his multicolored chums live in. Or rather, the aesthetic of it.

NOTE: This is purely about the game universe. While I do have my thoughts on Sonic’s world as presented in other continuities, that won’t be the focus here.

If you're familiar with my blog, you'll know that as a general rule of thumb, I much prefer colorful and creative worlds in my Sonic universe, and that rings true for my reasoning here. And I know what you're gonna say: “But Crusher, isn't there plenty of that in the Modern games as well?” Yes, there is, and I appreciate them very much. But this is why I feel the need to make a post of this sort to begin with, because I'm NOT saying “Classic cool, Modern boring” and calling it a day. There's a little more nuance to my tastes here.

When I say I prefer the Classic aesthetic for Sonic's world, I don't mean it in the literal sense of disregarding everything about the Modern aesthetic. Let's put it like this: when you're asked to paint a picture of these two sides of Sonic's universe in your head, a specific image will likely come to mind. When you think of Classic, you'll probably think of Green Hill first and foremost, whereas with Modern, you'll probably think of something like City Escape or Rooftop Run before anything else. In other words, when you think Modern Sonic, you're probably imagining the more realistic kind of locations first. And between the two mental images that come to mind, I personally prefer the Classic image. Shock, horror.

I wish I could swim in a sea that’s probably radioactive.

Now keep in mind, I'm not saying that City Escape, Rooftop Run, and all similar environments in the series look bad, because they don't. Unless they're painted with the '06 brush, they generally look fine, and the locations in Unleashed in particular are undeniably beautiful from an graphical standpoint. The problem is that although I can picture this as a world that Sonic could be in, I can't necessarily picture it as Sonic's world specifically. Because when it comes to the more realistic environments, I feel there's not much of an attempt to let it branch out as its own thing.

I know that might seem harsh, especially for Unleashed, since the real world angle was the deliberate theme of that game. And Sonic taking cues from real places is a fine concept, there's no issue there. I'm not gonna complain if there's a France Zone with an Eiffel Tower in the background. In fact, Sandopolis Act 1 has one of my favourite aesthetics in a Classic zone (mainly because the background is really pleasant to look at), and that zone is essentially Egypt Zone. But if you're making a Real World Zone, there needs to be more to it than that, otherwise you don't truly get a Sonic interpretation of our world... you instead have our world as it is with Sonic characters awkwardly stapled on.

When I look at City Escape, it may not be completely unfitting for Sonic (the posters and billboards in particular are actually a really nice touch), but when I look at it, I don't see Sonic's interpretation of San Francisco. I see San Francisco with Sonic shoved in. When they morph these places to Sonic's liking, they'll add rings, loops... and that's it. They rarely take the concept any further, which is a huge shame, particularly in the case of Rooftop Run, where I otherwise do like its visuals a lot, but it just doesn't go far enough with the concept for my liking.

At least you get to murder car owners, and give G.U.N. a legitimate reason to arrest you.

So which Modern games do I feel did the best job at making Sonic's world... er, Sonic's world? Well the truth is, most of them actually do a decent job in this area, regardless of the level design quality or the game’s quality period. SA2 has Pumpkin Hill, Eggman's Pyramid Base, and... SOME levels aboard the A.R.K (mainly the “outside” ones, like Final Rush). Shadow the Hedgehog, a game that reveled in how brown and gritty it was, still had highlights like Circus Park and Digital Circuit. Even '06 of all games had Aquatic Base, which was pretty cool from a conceptual standpoint. And although Unleashed as a whole might be a touch too vanilla in the creativity scale, it still had the glorious Eggmanland at the very end. But if I had to say which of the Modern installments did the best job overall...

- For starters, I'm gonna give a shoutout to SA1, because even though it was the first Modern game, and thus it was technically responsible for the more focused angle of realism in Sonic's world in the first place, it didn't take it quite as far as later games would, and although it may not be a perfect 1-to-1 representation of the world we saw in the Classic games, it does well enough with what it brings to the table that I can still accept it without any issue at all. Some of that has to do with the fact that you still have wilder areas like Windy Valley and Red Mountain to balance things out, but even with the other half, the game's use of colour is enough for it to go a long way, oddly enough. Take the At Dawn section of Speed Highway for instance:

From innocent times, when the radar wasn’t a piece of shit.

Technically, it's really not that different to the urban environments you see in SA2 or Unleashed. But something about the sleepy morning approach gives it a subtle, almost dream-like edge to it that I really dig, and despite it being pretty similar to the likes of City Escape, somehow I have an easier time buying into the idea of this place being part of the same world as zones like Sky Sanctuary.

And seeing how I already mentioned Red Mountain, let me compare it to Flame Core:

Yes, I know bringing '06 into this discussion at all is inherently and hilariously unfair, but let's put aside the game that Flame Core comes from for a moment. Aside from maybe the purple crystal caves indoors (and that's assuming you can even see where the fuck you're going in there), Flame Core is pretty boring to look at as far as Sonic levels go. Red Mountain is vastly more interesting, even though it's basically the exact same concept, and a lot of that has to do with - you guessed it - colour. Sure, it's day time, that's one thing, but you'll also notice that for a lava/mountain stage, it surprisingly has a few grassier sections, sort of like Hill Top in that regard. A little bit of green among the brown and red, and a great contrast to the volcanic nightmare you'll experience when you head inside.

Now this might seem like a fairly minor detail... and yeah, it is, but the thing that SA1 does so well is that it combines so many of those small details to make a complete, well-rounded package. This is why SA1 meshes well with the Classic style despite not being an exact replica, because just as the Classics excelled at, it wasn't afraid to use colour in interesting ways. It understood that a fire level could have more than just red and orange, in the same way that a grassy level could have more than just green and blue.

But of course, as I mentioned, SA1 is not an exception. There are other Modern games that did a great job on the whole...

- Heroes is an obvious answer, since it's translation of Genesis-style environments to 3D is probably one of the most recurring praises the game receives, and rightly so. Not much to say here, except that Hang Castle is still cool as hell.

And plenty of opportunity to admire the not-broken-in-half moon.

- Colours is another obvious one, though something of an ironic one given that the premise of the game involved going to other worlds, and those worlds were all converted against their will by Eggman. Yet, they did an equally superb job at creating fun, unique locales, and Aquarium Park in particular remains a favourite of mine.

Gotta love that red/blue contrast.

- The Riders series has a more futuristic bend compared to the rest of the series, but even when it's not all high-tech, it's got some pretty cool environments of its own, and I feel they even do well at mixing the real world side of things on top of that. Gigan Rocks comes to mind, as does Aquatic Capital.

Reminds me of when Perfect Chaos peacefully protested against Station Square.

- Regardless of my thoughts on the game itself, Secret Rings had some undeniable winners in this depertment. You tell me with a straight face that Night Palace doesn't look amazing.

A wonderful palace for a domestic abuser.

- And lastly, they might have had an early advantage since they're already 2D, but the Advance trilogy and Rush duology deserve a mention. They had some fantastic ideas for zones, like Planet Sonata Music Plant, and they did great with the colours as well. Hell, throughout these five games, the sky was practically every shade of the rainbow at one point or another.

Oh look, another completely whole moon.

Also, quick shoutout to another minor detail akin to the grassy sections of Red Mountain: these pink tunnel sections in Ice Mountain. No elaborate point to make here, just another perfect example of how much I adore these games' use of colour and contrast.

Seriously, I could go on for hours about good contrast.

Although I do bring up these small details for another reason, and in turn, another layer to my more nuanced take on Sonic aesthetics. By this point, we get the basic jist: Crusher likey when Sonic levels unique and pretty. But this can - and has - lead to a couple of misconceptions, so I'd like to address those and then laugh at them.

“So you want Sonic's world to be exactly like Mario?”

A common complaint that Lost World received was that it was too much like Mario, in more ways than one, and part of this was to do with the game's visual style. The zones may have been upbeat, but they often consisted of a bunch of things floating in the air and not much else, ala 2D Mario. While I didn't outright hate it, it’s definitely not what I have in mind for Sonic.

Of course, all complaints about being too much like Mario suddenly turn into praise when Eggette gets brought up...

And why is that? Because yes, I like my Sonic locations to be fun and lively... but I also want them to be firmly established within the context of this universe. The Lost World approach is fine with Special Stages and the sort, but outside of that... well, Studiopolis is a perfect example of what I'm talking about:

On one hand, it's very unique when compared to other cities in this franchise, and it's full of quirkiness, great use of colour, and all that good stuff I've went on about. But at the same time, it's grounded just enough so that it still feels like an actual city that the people of Sonic's world could feasibly live in, rather than a basic and empty video game level with a tacked on city background. Studiopolis may be a level from a video game, but you can totally believe it's a fully fleshed out place from its own perspective.

Naturally, this praise also rings true with the Modern games I listed earlier, and is yet another reason for why I approve of their settings.

“So you think Sonic can't have darker locations?”

It might be easy to take my compliments at face value, and assume that I'm immediately opposed to a zone that's not brightly colored. This is... very obviously false, as even the Classic games have their share of less-than-cheery areas, such as Scrap Brain and the Bad Futures in Sonic CD.

However, when you're making a grittier location in Sonic's world, regardless of the context, it still needs to be interesting. The problem with a lot of them in Modern installments is that they're boring. Crisis City is a generic city on fire. Westopolis is a generic city with aliens firing lasers from above. The prison levels in SA2 - and the indoor ARK levels not named Cannon's Core - are just grey hallways for the most part. That shit isn't exciting, and it doesn't get my mind speculating. It just makes me want to move on.

Let the eggsperts take care of this.

By contrast, Eggmanland is a prime example of how to do it right. Eggmanland is a magnificent theme park as envisioned by the good doctor, but it's also, at its core, a giant metal hellscape fueled by the energy of a dark entity, and it only gets more ominous the further you go through it or try to before you give up because it’s too fucking long and you died at the end. So it sets the mood to be sure, but it's still visually compelling to look at, and interesting to think about.

And since Eggman is apparently the only one who can show us how it's done, here's a shoutout to Titanic Monarch as well:

Like Heavy King, but Heavier and Kingier.

When comparing the final zones in Sonic games, I especially love this zone's visual approach, because it manages to be dark and colorful at the same time, and in a strangly organic way. It's got a spooky atmosphere, with a moody moonlight backdrop to match, and the titular robot is foreboding as hell as you climb up it and traverse through it... all the while having red floors, green and yellow wires, blue and pink buildings, and stained glass windows of Eggman and the Heavies for you to marvel at. So even putting aside the unique scenario of climbing up and then through a Kaiju-sized mech, the mood of the zone alone manages to be extremely memorable.

So what have we learned from all this? Aside from the fact that I’m way too interested in this subject? We now know that when I say I prefer the Classic “style” over Modern when it comes to the way that Sonic's world is presented:

- I don't mean that literally.

- There are certain qualities that although both of them possess, they tend to be more immediately associated with Classic in the collective consciousness, even within the fandom.

- The environments that I love the most in Modern games are often the ones that would also fit perfectly in the Classic style.

So whenever I express the basic nature of this opinion in the future... just imagine a small asterisk at the end of my sentence.

#Crusher Elaborations #Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog

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miraculoussage · 4 years

Text

Breaking Out

Sorry for the lack of formatting regarding this section. My laptop charger broke so I’m currently stuck with mobile, and I am not great at mobile text organization. Also sorry for the lack of a read-more. Once again, mobile :( fixed bc i have a laptop again B)

Rating: General

Characters: Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir main character; lots of other characters making an appearance, lots of Plagg, Marinette/Ladybug, and Gabriel

Relationships: Light love-square (pre-relationship)

Other tags: Trans boy Adrien, mostly closeted trans Adrien, transphobia (no transphobic violence), mentions of a dead name but no actual use of the dead name, misgendering, mentions of Dysphoria; supportive friends, Gabriel Agreste is a soggy tissue, minor mentions of diet control, minor redesigns of LB and CN costumes, major redesigns of civilian Adrien bc closet trans. Use of the word queer as an identifier and not a slur.

Part 2

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

The worst thing about being a popular fashion model, Adrien thought, was his image pasted all over the city. He had to see himself in the mirror enough as it was; seeing himself dressed up in the most feminine clothes his father could design, his long blond hair professionally styled into curls and braids and up-dos, and with enough makeup for three circus clowns made his skin itch. All of Paris, all of the world saw him as he was on the billboards and posters, in heavily edited magazine photos, set on backgrounds of flowers and butterflies. Everyone saw Adrien as a girl, Gabriel Agreste’s beautiful model daughter. Everyone except himself.

He had thought about coming out to his mother and father before, but while he was trying to find the nerve or the right moment, he overheard his father firing one of his models for coming out as trans. After that, his anxiety grew. He could never tell his parents, especially his father, not until he was living on his own and not relying on his modelling career and his father for survival.

Even when he went to school for the first time, he had to introduce himself as his dead name and endure the misgendering. He had considered coming out to Chloe, too, but while she didn’t seem to be transphobic, he didn’t trust her enough to keep it a secret. She thrived on gossip, sometimes even at the expense of her friends. Whether or not it was on purpose didn’t exactly matter to Adrien in this situation.

Plagg was the first person he ever came out to, not entirely on purpose. When he transformed into Chat Noir the first time, he actually cried for a few minutes. He felt different and he felt right and when he caught his reflection in a mirror he saw exactly who he wanted to be. Aside from his inhuman eyes and the strangeness of the costume, of course. His hair was short and messy and the makeup his father insisted he wear every day was entirely gone.

His costume was thick black leather, covering his whole body up to his neck where a bell sat at his collar. There was soft padding on his shoulders, elbows, and knees, barely visible under the leather. He had black combat boots with green soles that reached half way up his calf, laced with bright green laces, and lined with soft material if the same colour. His gloves, too, were black leather with soft green lining, claws on the fingers. Over the black bodysuit, he had a sleeveless hoodie; the fabric was looser and lighter than the leather, it almost seemed like cotton except it was sleek and waterproof. The pouch pocket was bright green with a single black paw print in the middle. All of the lining was the same bright green, visible in the hood and extending to the hems of the shirt. The hood itself had spaces cut out for the leather cat ears on his head, and fit loose and comfortable without falling over his eyes. Most importantly to Adrien, his chest was entirely flat without pressure.

After the first Akuma was stopped and Adrien transformed back, Plagg was suddenly gentle where he wasn’t before. “So what was that, then? What are your pronouns? Got a different name than the one I know?” After answering the questions and having another emotional moment, Plagg was back to being aloof and snarky, seemingly only concerned with cheese.

Adrien warmed up to the little cat-god fast. It felt more than amazing to be called the right thing for once, and Plagg at the least acknowledged his angry and frustrated rants about anything related to his gender that he’d never been able to share with anyone before. “As long as you keep giving me cheese,” Plagg had said, but somewhere along the way the meaning of the sentence changed to “always”, unspoken but genuine.

At school, things started out nice despite the rough start from being Chloe’s friend. The misgendering and dead name weighed down on him, though, and soon his new friends shared their concern about him. No one had any idea what it was about. It could be anything from his father to his mother to his modelling to just not getting enough sleep, but he’d hidden himself enough that no one would ever guess what it truly was about.

Nino was good about (sort of) silent comfort, offering to talk about it but relenting easily and moving to sharing music, food, memes, stories, and just a comforting presence. Alya always tried to figure out what was wrong and when she came to her own conclusions she would give him advice, though it was never the advice he needed. And Marinette...

Though Marinette was shy and got flustered easily, when her friends were in pain, she would stop at nothing to help them feel better. When he sighed about going home at the end of the day, she would invite him over to do homework, which usually ended up actually being video games. It became almost a routine by the spring, the two of them (and sometimes their friends) hanging out in the Dupain-Cheng apartment, snacking on yesterday’s left-over pastries while they played games, watched movies, talked, or rarely actually doing homework. Marinette’s parents were incredibly kind to Adrien, he was even envious that Marinette had such a supportive family. She was open about her biromantic identity, and never suffered for it at home.

As a result of their time spent together and Marinette’s own tendencies to not back down from helping her friends, she was the second person he came out to. It was a mess of tears between them, and Marinette apologized profusely for the misgendering, despite having no idea she was doing it. It made Adrien laugh, which made Marinette laugh, and then they were both laughing and crying at the same time. When Sabine came up to check on them, Adrien found he didn’t care that she was seeing him like this, and didn’t try to hide his identity from her anymore. Then, Sabine was crying with them, hugging Adrien close and giving him all the affirmations he never got from another human. (It was then that he decided he was now Adrien Dupain-Cheng, and she and Tom were his new parents.)

They all understood how important it was to keep this new information a secret, from everyone. If it got to his father or, gods forbid, the media, everything would go to hell in a hand basket. Marinette helped him fix his makeup before he left, apologizing even more about him needing to wear it. As usual, Sabine snuck some fresh pastries into his bag while he pretended not to notice when she hugged him goodbye. On the way out, Tom stopped him. The bakery was empty, just closed for the evening minutes before. “Adrien,” the news had reached him earlier via Sabine, “if you ever ever need a place to go for any reason, you’re always welcome here. No questions asked, any time day or night.” He had to hand a napkin to Adrien, tears gathering in his eyes again. As Adrien’s car pulled up to the front of the bakery, they said goodbye for the night, and Adrien was on his way back to the mansion. It wasn’t home, not anymore.

He came out to Ladybug third, but he didn’t know if it counted as third when he was Chat Noir. It was a rather casual interaction, against all expectations. The two of them were jogging across rooftops, keeping their eyes out for any sort of problem, just a regular Saturday patrol. They were talking about TV shows, sharing their theories for the next episode and the rest of the season; Ladybug theorized that one of the characters was a trans man, and Chat Noir seized the opportunity without a second thought. “Oh, like me,” he said, and Ladybug didn’t even blink. She just smiled at him, and he smiled back. Before they parted for the night, she thanked him for trusting her with his secret and promised it was safe with her. “I know, my Lady, I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you wouldn’t.” Nothing even changed between them after that, though Ladybug did seem to talk more openly about queer subjects when they came up.

He came out to other classmates and friends on a case by case basis, with Marinette there for support every time. Nathaniel, Alix, Nino, Rose and Juleka, Kagami. People he could trust entirely to keep it a secret and that he knew weren’t queerphobic from their time knowing each other. He always had some anxiety about it anyways, but with constant unspoken support from Marinette and her parents, it didn’t seem as daunting as before. Nathaniel drew pictures of him with different styles of short hair and more masculine outfits, “for when you’re able to choose your appearance”. Marinette had helped Nathaniel design the outfits, and she had plenty more in her own sketchbook designed just for Adrien. Alix and Nino casually called him “dude” and “bro”, a way to affirm him without actually outing him, since the terms were so casual and usually neutral.

As his support outside of the mansion grew, Adrien realized day after day just how terribly he was treated by his father, and Natalie and the other staff by proxy. Aside from his father’s thinly veiled queerphobia, he also controlled Adrien’s diet, his schedule, his social life, his career, his finances, and almost every aspect of his life. Before going to school, he thought most families were like that. It wasn’t until Alya complained about being saddled with babysitting again and the others lamented with her that three evenings that week was a bit excessive that Adrien realized most of his classmates actually got to decided what they did in their spare time without having to beg for permission. They got to choose what to eat for lunch, some even got to make their own food, and they didn’t have to follow a strict diet. They weren’t constantly afraid of their parents punishing them at the slightest mistake.

He spent more and more time at the Dupain-Cheng’s, at home, they even gave him his own key. More than once they’d woken up early to open the bakery, just to find him curled up on the couch in his clothes from the day before, the throw blanket wrapped tightly around him. Marinette made plenty of casual clothes and loungewear for him, until half of her closet was his. They almost always had a plate of leftovers from dinner with his name on it in the fridge. One afternoon, they surprised Adrien; the room that was formerly the office was converted into a full bedroom with his clothes moved into the closet already. The room was even decorated, soft green and light grey, paintings on the walls, a desk with a silver cat paperweight next to a lamp. Plagg seemed even more excited about it than Adrien was, which was saying a lot because Adrien was over the moon. They really were serious about the “anytime, no questions asked”.

After three years of school and crime fighting, Adrien made the biggest decision in his life. He talked to the bank and a lawyer. He had his rightful savings moved from the account under his father’s surveillance to a brand new private account. He had his friends and real family at his back. And then, he came out to his father. It went about as well as he expected; Gabriel threw a fit, accused Adrien of acting out for attention, and ultimately ended up locking Adrien in his room and forbidding him from going to school. Fortunately for Adrien, he had an escape plan in the form of a magical ring.

He was across the city in a matter of minutes, detransformed, and contacting his lawyer. His emancipation was officially in process. He texted the Dupain-Cheng family chat letting them know he told his father and it didn’t go well, but he was not in the house and he was safe. They were the only ones who knew about his plan, given they were part of it all. Though the idea of living full time with Marinette gave him butterflies, he could ignore his crush for everyone’s comfort.

Before his father or Natalie had a chance to suspend his access to his accounts, he made an Instagram post. A photo of himself, no makeup and his hair pulled back into a bun so it wasn’t so visible, wearing one of the more formal outfits Marinette made for him (a blue suit with a white undershirt and a pink bow tie). It had been taken a few days earlier, in front of a nondescript grey wall in his bedroom, unable to be linked to any location. As the caption, he wrote “Adrien Agreste, he/him, proudly trans! Stay strong, and know you are loved.” He posted it in as many transgender and fashion tags as he could, and was happy to see screenshots of it spreading almost immediately before it was taken down from his own account and his access was cut off. He texted Marinette one last time to tell her he would be unable to contact her over the phone, then turned the phone off, left it on a nearby cafe table, and disappeared down an alley. Thirty seconds later, Chat Noir was vaulting between buildings, headed nowhere in particular.

Stick around for part 2! ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #trans adrien agreste #sage writes #ml #ml fanfic #uhhhh gabriel agreste could be eaten by a dinosaur and it would still be too good of a fate for him #we feelin the DYSPHORIA 2nite lads

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thyra279 · 4 years

Text

Clan colours

Ended up writing this instead of going to bed last night. For day 2 of the Good Omens Celebrations.

Prompts: Contrast (and Cotton)

"…What?" Not-quite-Crowley-Crowley stared at him, mouth agape, an expression which did Aziraphale's poor old corporation absolutely no favours.

"I said, could you give me a twirl?"

"I'm still a bloody demon for a few hours longer, Angel, I'm not gonna twirl. Do me the favour of letting me die with my dignity intact."

"Crowley." The sharpness of Aziraphale’s admonishment was swallowed by the concrete walls of Crowley's living room. Their owner sighed.

"I'm kidding Aziraphale, we're gonna be fine. Just a nice little trip up- and downstairs for us, a cosy heart-to-heart with some archangels and the dukes of Hell." Crowley's voice softened at the angel’s disapproval, sounding oddly mild in Aziraphale's throat. "And then we'll be right as rain."

"I know that, dear. I hope you do too. Have a little faith."

"Erh, 's a bit of a touchy subject for me."

"Have faith in Agnes Nutter, then."

Crowley shifted awkwardly in the foreign corporation. The lofty sniff he managed was more his own. "I've met quite a lot of witches in my time and believe me, most of them are not to be trusted. The things they tried to do to us poor devils. Tricky bunch. Verrrry tricky bunch. Quite a few of them were positively debauched, and that's coming from a demon who's terrifically debauched himself, you know."

Aziraphale managed to disguise his snort as a throaty sneeze.[1] "Ble- gesundheit. Did I ever tell you about that weirdo with the black cat and massive warty nose up in Staffordshire?"

"You did, yes. Several times a century for the last 400 years. I believe you've told most of the northern hemisphere by now."

"She tried to fly on a broomstick, Aziraphale. A broomssssstick."

"Yes, dear." Crowley mimed vaguely at sweeping the floor and shook Aziraphale's head before falling into bewildered contemplation. Aziraphale took the opportunity to hike up the metaphorical bootstraps of Crowley's unruly corporation to circle around Crowley and his own corporation. It was an odd reversal of their ritual, familiar and disconcerting all at once. The reflection in the dark glass windows at the end of the room belied the oddness of the scene, the undercurrent of worry in both of them. And still, there in the window was the comforting lankiness of Crowley, though a little stiffer than normal. And there, his own slightly stuffier corporation.

Aziraphale turned to look at the real version of it. It had been close to thirty years since the last time he'd really looked at himself. He liked his corporation, always had. It was nowhere near as disarmingly lascivious as Crowley's, yet it had its own charm, a warmth and comfort which easily won over humans and, it seemed, at least one otherworldly being too.

It may have very recently undergone some major restorative work, but it looked more or less the same as it had for the last 6000 years. His clothes, however, caught his interest.

"Are you checking me out, Angel?"

"No, dear, I am taking the opportunity to, ah, check out myself."

"Ah. Can't blame ya, good call."

"Oh hush. I'm taking a look at my attire, Crowley."

Aziraphale's garments told a story themselves, reminders of little not-so-chance encounters and long-planned secret evenings together. Which genre the story belonged to he couldn’t bear to contemplate tonight.

Aziraphale knew Crowley's clothes, even the new ones, could have recited every tailored line had he had the audience.[2] He had never really paid his own clothes the same courtesy, and now, he may not have the chance again.

The demon stood still, let him survey his beloved khaki coat, find the innocent-looking shoulder that Crowley had blown clean only days earlier. The fraying waistcoat that might seem past its expiration date but had at least another decade in it. He hoped it would get it.

The cotton-blend bowtie he'd started wearing just before that evening in the church when…-

It had quickly become his favourite accessory. He'd tried out a cravat during some years in the 1950s and 60s. It had suited him rather well, he'd thought. And yet, he'd kept coming back to the bow tie, to the beloved lines of the tartan and their soft reassurances around his neck. He hadn't gone a day without it since 1967.

Heaven’s Dress. He'd rather liked the look and feel of his uniform during the Celestial War (it had been the only part of the War he'd been enthusiastic about). The tartan had seemed like a revelation; a rare surprise in those small days before Earth. After an eternity in strictly monotone fabrics - eggshell, vanilla, ivory or sheer white - the audacity of different shades mashing up together in such close proximity had been thrilling. It had made such a big impression on him that he'd seized the opportunity to popularise the pattern when it arose a few millennia later.

He’d got the chance when he developed Edinburgh in the 16th century. Crowley had been too busy working on Glasgow himself to bother Aziraphale much and so, he’d had plenty of free time.

Now, contrary to popular belief, it was Aziraphale who introduced tartan to Scotland, not the other way round. It had been a simple enough thing to slip in, during his town planning meetings, and the Scots had taken to tartan like, well, like chickens to water or whatever it was Crowley had said. His tartan venture had been quite the success for the Principality.[3] So much so he’d decided to have a go at the weaving himself and reproduce the one he’d seen in Heaven an eternity ago.

And he really had gone in fully intending to weave up the beige-on-beige tartan in honour of Heaven. When he’d looked at the result, however, it had seemed just a little off. After a week's contemplation and rather more than just the angel's share of whisky, he'd realised that Heaven's pattern was bland. It was too beige, lacked any form of nuance or depth. What it was lacking, he’d come to realise, was a bit of contrast.

And so, Aziraphale had played around a little, had added a little darker shading here and there, then wound a gentle red line from left to right across the pattern. Before he knew it, thin twin red-and-nearly-black lines had slithered up from the bottom of the pattern too, wrapping themselves around the softer diagonals, and Aziraphale’s tartan had come together. It was certainly unusual, but to Aziraphale, it had felt just right. He'd named it Heaven's Dress as he’d set out to do. The blessings and protections he'd wound into the fabric had had nothing to do with Heaven, however.

A rather pointed cough roused him from his musings. "Am I witnessing the dawning realisation that tartan’s really terribly unstylish?" Crowley was looking at him, fretting hands tucked into loose linen trousers.

"Not quite." Aziraphale offered up a little smile at the sight of his tartan now guarding Crowley’s neck. The demon looked at him expectantly, but Aziraphale left out his usual retort.

Eventually, Crowley sighed and crossed his arms. "I do have faith, you know."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The demon looked down at himself. "I have faith in you." He picked up his wineglass and staggered over next to Aziraphale to flop down into his throne with as much flair as Aziraphale's corporation could manage. "Tell you what, Angel. If we make it out of there ali- unscathed and get to Berkeley Square as planned, I'll twirl all the way from there to the bloody Ritz for you, how's that?"

"Very well, dear. You know, I think I'll indulge in a slice of their Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. When we get there. And we will. I have every faith in both of us." Aziraphale straightened the bow tie and gave Crowley's cheek two quick pets. He set off on a practice saunter through Crowley's cavernous apartment to perform a little stylish miracle where it wouldn't be heard, doubling back on the way out of the door. "I'll look forward to your whirligigs."

“...What?!”

[1] To his knowledge, neither he nor Crowley had ever sneezed in the entirety of their existences, but Crowley seemed too preoccupied to notice.

[2] Aziraphale had found receptive audiences on a few occasions. One time in 1979, in a bar with a bunch of UCL students in SoHo, he'd spoken so passionately on the nuances of black in Crowley's wardrobe he'd been rather alarmed to find he'd accidentally started Goth subculture.

[3] Aziraphale had been really very miffed indeed when the English conjured up the Dress Act of 1746 and banned the use of tartan. He'd made sure to block every subsequent attempt by the English to change their national anthem to anything more stirring than the dull monotony of "God Save the Queen". Even he can see the pettiness of this, and yet he keeps at it to this day.

I’m collecting all my Celebration ficlets over on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037873/chapters/57837565

Inspired by this lovely meta post on Aziraphale’s tartan: https://bluebandedagate.tumblr.com/post/187971072711/a-discourse-on-tartan

#goc2020 #good omens celebration #goodomenscelebration #good omens ficlet #tartan #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #not a lockdown fic should probably be doing a lockdown fic today

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writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

Trust Fund, Gold Tongue 4/7 (Crygi) - Peridot

A/N: Chapter four is here! I’m so so grateful for the continuous support. This is my first multi-chapter fic, and the longest thing I’ve ever written, so your support means a lot to me! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and feel free to leave any feedback here or on ao3 or at my sideblog @artificialperidot. Enjoy!

They hadn’t kissed immediately.

No one kisses immediately after they declare their love. At least not in Gigi’s experience. There’s usually too many emotions involved, and it would feel awkward to kiss so soon. She wanted to wait. Sure she had drunkenly kissed her friends or random strangers at house parties plenty of times without waiting, but this was different. This was Crystal, and Crystal was most certainly different from anyone than Gigi had known before.

Their tennis-court meet ups were the only thing that were keeping Gigi sane, if she were to be totally honest. Crystal was her refuge - she could forget about her family for just a little bit and get lost in her chocolate eyes and her freckled face and her dimples, and just talk. She had never had someone like that, who she could talk to about absolutely anything with no fear, no shame. She didn’t feel like she had a reputation to uphold when she was with Crystal - she felt normal for the first time in her life. She was sure that she could spend a lifetime talking with her, about everything and nothing at the same time.

And boy did she need someone to talk to when Matthew arrived at the country club.

He had showed up on a Thursday afternoon in a Gucci sweatshirt and a smirk. Gigi had wanted to slap the smirk off of his face from the moment they had first met.

He introduced himself as Matt, but Gigi stuck with Matthew, because she did not intend to get to know him on a nickname basis. He had a quiff of golden hair and green eyes and a blue-white smile, and was textbook-attractive.

Gigi was not interested in the slightest.

It wasn’t Matthew’s fault that Gigi hated him, really. It was more her parent’s fault. They were delusional if they thought Gigi wouldn’t notice their meddling, how they seemed to send him after her at every turn. He probably would’ve been nice enough if Gigi had ever allowed herself to talk to him. But she was adamant that she wasn’t going to - the last thing she needed was for her parents to get the wrong idea and assume that she had changed her mind about dating him, or dating men altogether. Oh no, instead she made a point of ignoring him - answering his questions with snappy, one-word lines, putting in her AirPods when he tried to speak, and talking over him at any given opportunity.

It was a bitchy move, but she didn’t know how else her parents would get the message to back off.

Every afternoon she would complain about him to Crystal, and every afternoon Crystal would wrap her arm around her shoulders and remind her that she was Gigi fucking Goode, and give her a pep talk to get through the rest of the day. Gigi became addicted to the feeling.

One day, though, things didn’t go to plan.

It was two minutes to three, and Gigi was just about to sneak off to the tennis courts, when out of nowhere, the last person she wanted to see was calling out to her.

“Gigi!”

Matthew. She was tempted to ignore him, walk away as if she hadn’t heard, but before she had the opportunity to make her escape, he was bounding up to her and she had no choice but to address him.

He was dressed in a pair of knee high khaki shorts and short-sleeved shirt, with a sweater vest over the top despite the heat. But more concerningly, he had a golf bag slung over his shoulder.

“Gigi, the whole family is down on the golf course,” he said, panting. Gigi cringed at the idea of all of her family being together in one place, planning on playing a very forced game of golf, but cringed even more at the fact this boy considered himself a part of ‘the family’. Delusional. “We’re about to start a game, are you coming?”

No, she was absolutely not coming, not if she was able to get out of it. She couldn’t think of anything worse than spending her whole afternoon trekking around a golf course in the sweltering mid-July heat, with her already-detestable parents watching her like a hawk as she did her best to ignore the stuck-up boy who never seemed to leave her alone.

That sounded like a terrible idea.

“Uh, I’m actually a little busy right now, sorry Matthew,” she said without looking at him, fully intending to start speed-walking away at 70 miles per hour.

“But everyone’s waiting on you!”

“Then tell them to start without me,” she replied, hoping her voice was stern enough to scare him away.

“We can’t start without you! We’ll be on hole five before you show up.” There was a hint of anger and his voice, and sure, it was probably justified, but Gigi didn’t like the sound of it, not one bit.

“Well maybe I don’t wanna spend my afternoon playing fucking golf,” she spat, her brows furrowed and a tightness rising in her chest. She hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive, to escalate the conversation like that, but she had already come too far to turn back.“Maybe I’ve got better things to do.”

Matthew was silent for a moment, his face stoic. Gigi could practically see the cogs turning in his brain before he spoke again. “What, Gigi? What better things do you have to do? Because as far as I can see, you’re wandering around alone doing nothing.”

Shit. She bit the inside of her cheek, staying silent.

“Come on, Gigi. It’s the least you can do,” he continued. “You don’t wanna upset your family, do you? Your dad was just saying how he wondered why you never spend any time with the family anymore, right before I came to find you.”

Gigi wanted to slap him around the face at that, because god damn it, he knew exactly what he was doing, the smug bastard. Gigi was trapped - she couldn’t risk telling him the truth about her and Crystal, especially since he seemed to be so buddy-buddy with her parents. And any lie she would’ve told wouldn’t have worked, either, because what could be so important in a country club that she’d have to give up spending time with her family?

And the cherry on the top of the cake was his mention of her dad’s suspicions. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Gigi knew that her parents would start to get suspicious of her whereabouts eventually, and the last thing she wanted was for her dad to find out about the waitress she had been spending quite a lot of time with, and destroy the only thing that was keeping her going.

She was well and truly screwed.

“Fine, I’ll come,” she sighed in defeat. Her heart was heavy as Matthew grinned, and as she followed him to the golf course, her limbs felt like lead.

The guilt felt hollow in her chest, but it weighed her down like an anchor as she trudged to the golf course, worries and thoughts of Crystal becoming all-consuming.

She knew Crystal would be waiting for her. And she could only imagine the disappointment she’d face when Gigi didn’t turn up.

***

Needless to say, Gigi did not enjoy the game of golf that afternoon.

She couldn’t remember who won - she hadn’t really been paying any attention. She couldn’t pay attention, not when worries were swimming in her brain like fucking Olympic athletes. She hadn’t remembered golf taking so long before. She was sure it had been the longest game of her life. Or, at least, it felt that way.

The second she had putted the ball in the ninth hole, she was off, frantically saying goodbye to her family, and heading straight for the tennis courts.

She knew she was delusional. She knew Crystal wouldn’t be there. Her break was only so long, and the game of golf had taken hours. But she had to check. Just to be sure she wasn’t still waiting.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but when she reached their court and found it completely deserted, her heart sank to her feet. She didn’t even want to begin thinking about how Crystal felt. How long she had waited before inevitably giving up. How she probably hated Gigi now. How she was angry and upset, and it was all Gigi’s fault.

Gigi found herself blinking back tears.

She had to apologise, and fast.

***

Nine o’ clock struck, and Gigi was waiting in the front lobby.

She had tried to find Crystal all evening, but she had no success. But she was not about to sleep on this and let the emotions fester. No, she needed to say sorry and explain, right now.

She knew Crystal’s shift finished at 9pm or 10pm, depending on the day. She showed up at 8:45, just to be safe. And she would’ve waited until midnight if she had to.

Luckily, she didn’t have to.

Crystal strode out from a ‘staff only’ door the second nine o clock hit, her red hair wild around her head and a backpack on her shoulder. And, thankfully for Gigi, she was alone. She was busily typing something on her phone, and didn’t even look up for long enough to notice Gigi lingering by the door. Or at least that’s what Gigi hoped. She hoped she wasn’t purposefully ignoring her.

Gigi scanned the area with her eyes, making sure no one was paying attention to them, before grabbing Crystal by the arm, stopping her in her tracks. Crystal looked up from her phone in shock, and upon locking eyes with Gigi, her face stilled, emotionless.

“I need to talk to you,” Gigi said.

Crystal was quiet for a moment, before she mumbled an “okay,” and without another word, she led Gigi out the door. They made their way to Crystal’s car, parked in the staff lot just outside the main entrance, for some privacy, Gigi supposed.

Gigi hadn’t seen that type of car before. It was small and old and a rusty red colour, sort of like her hair. It looked a little run down, and it was definitely not what Gigi was used to, but the seats had leopard-print coverings and it felt very Crystal. Crystal unlocked the door and clambered into the driver’s seat, Gigi hopping in on the other side and shutting the door.

It was already 9pm, but it hadn’t gotten dark yet, and the two of them were left staring at the evening sky through the windscreen, orange and pink and red. They were quiet for a few moments, both staring into space and not quite sure what to say, not exactly sure how to put their emotions to words. Gigi wanted to speak, wanted desperately to apologise, but now that she had the opportunity the words weren’t coming to her, and she was hitting a roadblock.

“If you’re here to tell me you don’t wanna talk to me anymore, I got your message loud and clear when you stood me up,” Crystal said, breaking the silence and staring straight ahead blankly.

“What?”

“I should’ve seen it coming sooner,” she continued, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Our talks obviously meant more to me than to you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t care about a fucking waitress.”

“What? No, Crystal, that’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” she said, turning to Gigi sharply, and whilst her tone was cutting, Gigi could see the pain behind her eyes. “Why didn’t you show up?”

“I couldn’t,” Gigi said, and the tears were back in her eyes again. It took all of her willpower to keep them from brimming their banks. “Matthew came by and told me that we were playing golf and that the whole family was waiting on me and that my dad was getting suspicious and I couldn’t risk him finding out about us, because I can’t lose you,” she rambled, choking up.

She met Crystal’s gaze, and there was something new in the way she looked at her. It was almost like she pitied her.

Gigi was sure she had never been pitied in her life, at least not to her knowledge. How could she be? She was from a fucking multimillionaire family. She had all the best clothes, the best car, the best house, any material thing she could ever want and then some. She wasn’t oblivious to her privilege. She knew full well how lucky she was, and she hated the guilt that came with it. How could anyone pity someone who could have anything they wanted, when people would kill to have a fraction of the money she had?

Little did everyone know that the things Gigi wanted were the only things she couldn’t have. A normal life. A stable family. To be open and honest about who she truly was.

But more than anything, she wanted Crystal.

Crystal reached out a hand and grasped Gigi’s, tethering her back to reality.

“It’s okay, Gigi, I get it,” she said softly, but despite her sympathy Gigi could tell all was not fixed just yet. “You could’ve texted me or something, though.”

Shit. Holy shit. Gigi could’ve texted her. But she had been so caught up in her head, it didn’t occur to her.

“Fuck, Crystal, I didn’t even think of that,” she confessed, her body going rigid and her muscles tensing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking dumb. I should’ve texted you, that would’ve been so obvious, god I’m such an idiot.” The tears had started to escape her eyes now though, rolling painfully slowly over her cheekbones. “I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m a fucking bitch. I never meant to hurt you. I totally understand if you hate me now, I should’ve told-“

Before she could finish her sentence, Crystal cupped her face with her hands.

And suddenly, her lips were on Gigi’s.

The kiss was soft. It was slow, and gentle, and Gigi found her stress disintegrating away slowly, leaving her body. Crystal’s lips moved on hers with patience, lazily, as if she had all day to linger on Gigi’s lips, and Gigi felt herself melt into the feeling, her brain empty. It was tender. It was sunsets and sugary candy floss and warmth.

And then, the warmth turned to heat. Gigi’s hands found their way into Crystal’s mane of red hair, and Crystal’s grip on her cheek became a little firmer, and they kissed each other a little harder, a little more passionately, as if they needed it to breathe - though really, Gigi’s breath had been taken away. Suddenly, Gigi’s empty brain was filled with thoughts of Crystal’s tongue and Crystal’s teeth and Crystal’s lips, and all of her senses were overwhelmed. Kissing Crystal was electric and explosive and addictive. It was bonfires and fireworks and passion.

And Gigi felt the puzzle pieces finally slot back into place.

She was sure she had never loved someone like this before.

They broke apart, and Gigi could feel her heart in her throat and a tightness in her chest, overwhelmed and emotional. Crystal smiled at her. A real, genuine smile.

“It’s okay, Gigi,” she whispered, stroking her cheek. “I forgive you.”

And with that, Gigi’s world was perfectly okay again.

“Thank you,” she said, her own smile returning to her face. Crystal beamed, and Gigi decided she never wanted to forget just how beautiful she looked when she grinned. “You’re a really good kisser,” she added when she had caught her breath, because, fuck it, it was true.

Crystal looked pleasantly surprised. “Wow, thanks,” she said, giggling a little. “I’ve, uh, I’ve never actually kissed someone before. Before just now,” she added nervously.

Gigi’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? You were great!” she exclaimed.

“Well, I guess I was just born with the gift, then,” she said, putting on a cocky act. “I can’t help it, I’m just so talented.” she said with a cheesy wink.

Gigi dissolved into laughter, and she couldn’t help but agree.

“Will you show me your talents again, kissing-expert?”

Crystal rolled her eyes dramatically, but couldn’t hide her bright smile. “If I must, miss Goode.”

They hadn’t kissed immediately, but rather they kissed when Gigi was least expecting it.

And they did not plan on stopping any time soon.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jan sport #trust fund gold tongue #peridot #lesbian au #fluff #angst #tw: homophobia but not in this chapter #summer lovin' 2020 #day 4: heat #submission

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of-dxnger · 4 years

Text

ʻ / let me introduce you to a prized member of our mens lacrosse team , nicholas “nick” black . this cis-male aries has been a student at our institution for 3 years and is currently a twenty one year old junior . through the halls , he has always reminded me of maxence danet-fauvel , but there is always more than meets the eye , like the fact that his father has covered up the deaths of two of nick’s friends over the years. coral cape has made their future just as bright as their smile , i assure you . ʼ ( muse #7 , billie , 25 , gmt+10 , she/her )

your friendly neighbourhood nerd, hi. hit me up on discord ( one salty nerd#9483 ) if you want to plot. below are some facts and details about my misunderstood child nick.

~DOSSIER !

Name: Nicholas Xavier Black Nicknames: Nick Age: 21 D.O.B: 13th April Height: 6″1 Degree: Business/Economics Nationality: French-American Languages: English, French Gender: Cis Male Orientation: soooooo bi

~ HISTORY !

TRIGGERS: death, drugs, alcohol.

ʻ / The taste of his power is rotten; leaves left to fester beneath an autumn sky. Emotions like an ensnared animal, vicious, writhing, raw. That is how he grew, a black pit that demanded attention from everyone around him. His ability was to infect those around him, until it consumes everything and leaves only a vacancy for disdain.

His father had been a strong presence in his life, not always a positive one. The two of them butted heads almost every chance they got these days. Arguements about nearly everything, his lack of commitment, not attending mass, fighting, drinking and drugs, his choice of partners, turning up in shirt and jeans rather than a suit. Nothing he did was good enough so he stopped putting in the effort. It didn’t help that his little sister was the apple of his father’s eye. It had been harder growing up with that, constantly in competition, but it hadn’t taken him long to realise that it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t need his fathers approval, she could have him.

He wasn’t a mother’s boy either, but he certainly had a better relationship with her. He felt bad for leaving her in the house all the time with him. It wasn’t that he was violent to anyone in their family, by no means. But there was something corrupting about him, he didn’t want her to become like him. She was too good. She was usually the one that could get him to go against his own interests, a worried look, a pout, heaven forbid tears. Letting her down or breaking her heart wasn’t something he ever wanted to do, that was why he still did well at his studies, he never caused too much of a scene, although that was by his standards, not hers.

ʻ / Look at me walking around, all Black, free and ungrateful. How dare I, skip a “Hallelujah” to tell you the church is on fire.

Church had always been a big part of their family, they’d always been catholics the Blacks, every sunday was a family trip to mass. Neatly kept hair, fresh pressed clothes, polite hand shakes and smiles reserved for those that he was supposed to respect. It was exhausting. He went and did as he was told, sitting there quietly daydreaming, musing to himself. His attendance waxed and waned, but everytime his mother fussed and worried about him, he felt guilty and would go for her. There were many aspects of being catholic that bothered him, but he was more concerned with being himself, it was why he didn’t feel ashamed when he discovered he was into guys as much as girls. His father had given him a warning to not let it ruin his future, Nick had laughed, and clearly ignored him. His father was so hellbent on imagery and what the public thought of their family, but Nick couldn’t care less.

He’d found himself in the cathedral at university twice in his three years there. The first was when he was just in there for the peace and quiet. He may have been a little high, and laying down on the pews with the stained glass windows bathing him in a kaleidoscope of colours was mesmerising. The second was when he’d gotten so stuck in his own head, panicing and re-living past events, a panic attack wrapping its way around his heart, the only place that made sense to him was the church. Strange, but it worked.

ʻ / Prayers whispered on trembled lips; a wish, a hope that he wasn’t beyond redemption. Pressed to his forehead were the rosary beads of a long dead family member that he’d never met.

Seventeen. How does one learn to cope with losing a friend? Losing someone is never a thing that someone should have to go through. It is only made worse by the fact that no one knew what happened exactly. There was a party, being the rich and spoilt kids that they were, there was of course alcohol and someone had drugs even though there wasn’t supposed to be, that was a problem with spoilt kids, they didn’t like rules. Bryce had been drinking a lot and there was supposedly drugs in his system but Nick was sure he hadn’t taken any, everyone knew him and everyone had talked to him or interacted with him to some degree, so there was an easy to follow timeline. Up until Bryce died. Supposedly falling down the stairs, a nasty wound on his head. But it never sat right with most of the peoeple that really knew him. Friendships dissolved, suspicions tore people apart but the world moved on. What Nick didn’t know was that his father had helped keep the story from reaching the media, had kept certain aspects of the case quiet. He’d never been overly religious, but after this his faith began to falter, he hadn’t properly attended church in a few years, but now he almost felt ashamed to.

Nineteen. He and his lover at the time, Tobias, were perched at the top of a building, not that high. But high enough. Legs swaying in the breeze as they looked over a city that he would one day rule. They’d been up there to talk, somewhere private, yet calming. Nick was calling things off. After sitting there so long in silence, the boredom and finality in his voice was abbrasive even to himself. Tobias hadn’t taken it too badly, obviously there was emotion and as he went to stand up off the ledge and leave, he’d slipped and was dangling from the roof of the building. Nicks fingers gripped so hard at his jacket and wrist, wishing that he had more upper body strength, or the will to lift up other. But after what felt like forever, there was an emptiness in his hands, followed quickly by the disfugred body below. The first thing he did was call his father, call it intuition, or perhaps because he knew deep down that his father wasn’t above dealing with such things. It had taken him so long after that to trust himself to let anyone in, he’d tried rationaising with himself that it was an accident, but it had taken so long for him to truly believe it, there were still times when he didn’t think it was. He’d let go. He never went back to church after that. Occassionally walking by it and considering it, his rosary beads still hung in his room, not quite ready to get rid of them compeltely, but he felt damaged, damned even.

Was he due for another death? After all, things came in threes and he was twenty one now.

ʻ / Trust given without being earned loses meaning; a rotten power he inherited from his father. He tastes it in the smiles of his lovers and the glances of his classmates, in the teachers who congratulate his achievements, and the friends who invite him to party after party. He is wanted and praised, yet not loved.

It was his last name, his family. It opened so many doors, a situation he was willing to take advantage of when the time called for it, but it also meant that a lot of people that tried to ingratiate themselves in his life, were fake. There only to get in good with the family and make their own opportunities. It was bareable at a young age, even invisible. But as he grew it became more obvious and more exhausting to deal with. To the point where he tries to hold off on people finding out he is a Black.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be part of his family. But sometimes the name came with too much baggage. Some his own, some his siblings or parents. But the reverse of his wanting to stop people trying to use him for what his family could give them was to fiercly protect what was his. His friends, his loved ones, those that he truly cared about... there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. He’d crossed a boundary once before for a friend and it didn’t bother him as much as it should have. But that’s who he was in his core, protective of his own, once again much like his father. It was infuriating how much of his father he saw in himself when he looked in the mirror.

ʻ / Calloused fingers tracing his bloodstained lips – only to have it wipe away. Shrill screeches of the final whistle, they’d won again. Smug grins were worn that could rival the devils. Yes, they had a reputation for being a rougher team, but it just meant they did whatever it took to win. The blood clinging to net of his crosse, lightly spattering his lips only confirmed this.

Lacrosse had been an exceptional distraction when he’d first started playing for the university during his first year. But it became a rather delightful way to channel his anger and frustration while using his smarts to play tactics. His father told him he should have gone into something stronger, but that was part of the allure of lacrosse, the rebellion. Nick was able to have something that was truly his that his father couldn’t ruin. At least not yet. It was almost a ritual of his to step off the field and smoke a joint before hitting the showers. Something to help mellow him out a little before his shoes hit the flagstones of the university.

Getting his hands dirty wasn’t something he was afraid of, there were plenty at the university that focused on nothing more than books, looking down their noses at sports. Hard work and getting down in the mud were things he guessed he’d picked up from his father, but he knew that his fathers penchant for getting his hands dirty had grown into something more twisted and sinister since he’d left university. It would not be the path that he walked.

~ TL;DR !

From a catholic family.

Has daddy issues.

Sees too much of his father in him (and hates it).

Knows someone who knows someone. Has used drugs. Only shares his stash with a select few.

Likes to be the centre of attention, usually not in a good way.

Antagonistic.

Will start an argument/fight because he is bored.

Is remarkably intelligent.

He finds everyone attractive, super bi, used to feel bad about it, doesn’t care anymore.

May or may not be responsible for someones death.

Lowkey thinks his soul is damned.

~ CONNECTIONS !

( plots are open to anyone and everyone regardless of gender ^_^ )

~~ THE RIDE OR DIE ;; someone who has become increasingly close with nick, they share almost everything with one another, inseperable is a word to describe them, but not so clingy. { OPEN! }

~~ THICK AS THIEVES ;; friends, cause who doesn’t need friends. he’s never really had many close friends. { OPEN! }

~~ THE TEMPTATION ;; someone that acts as a corrupting/distracting influence. { OPEN! }

~~ THE FORBIDDEN TASTE ;; a relationship kept on the down low due to whatever reason, someone he is attracted to. { OPEN! }

~~ THE GIRL NEXT DOOR ;; living next door or down the hall from one another, they could hang out, maybe not? do they get along or merely tolerate one another? { OPEN! }

~~ THE LOVER ;; someone he has been seeing, this is not only about the physical, but the attraction of personalities. neither has taken the initiative to ask themselves if this could be something more. { OPEN! }

~~ THE SAINT ;; a friend or just someone who looks out for nick and often acts as a conscience or moral compass to him, or rather they try to. { OPEN! }

~~ THE EX ;; whether it was a one night stand, a small fling or something more serious, things were broken off for whatever reasons (plots). this could have been a mutual agreement or ended on bad terms. { OPEN! }

~~ THE THORN IN THE SIDE ;; not quite enemies or rivals, but someone that bothers him, or gets under his skin easily. { OPEN! }

~~ THE RIVAL ;; someone that he has a rivalry with, both equally matched, and the tension can be caused by anything, mutual friends, lovers, goals etc { OPEN! }

playlist

anyways that’s my boy, i’m terrible at these so please feel free to message me with any and all plots ^_^

#about #connections #nick #capecoral:intro

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fuse2dx · 4 years

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August ‘20

Ruiner

Ruiner frames its action at an isometric tilt. There’s a lot of red; in the game’s interface, as the prominent colour of the neon lighting that adorns its stages, and in the blood that is frequently spilled. Its cyberpunk setting isn’t anything particularly new, but as a unifying aesthetic, the glitchy effects, and out-there personalities doing their best to cope in a dystopia do well to build a convincing and intriguing world. Stages are action packed and throb with electronic noise and big loud industrial bass hits, with the play being akin to an arena shooter; enemies surging at you in bite size, minute-at-a-time waves, with each of these closing out with a grading screen serving as the pat on the back to keep that dopamine rhythm pulsing. It’s a pretty hypnotic cocktail.

These stages evolve out of a singular hub city, and while it’s not particularly big, there’s just the right level of hubbub, and it has a lovely Hirusawa Susumu track acting as an excellent, melancholic mood-setter. Based on the size of its world and the the quick-fire action being split between a very small number of stages, it’s not surprising to say it’s fairly brief - I mean, how could it get so big? But what is important is that it’s plenty of fun and and has style by the bucketload. I got a good kick out of it.

Carrion

On one hand, a horror game where you play the horror is just the kind of flip on a genre that’s needed to freshen things up a bit. On the other, it’s one straight out of the spoof ‘Peter Molydeux’ playbook. What a carri-on.

... I’m sorry. After your initial escape from a lab, Carrion centres around a hub world, with individual stages then breaking off to allow for more specific themed stages. What you’re trying to do within these is to spread your big, goopy self around, where certain spots will act as save points but also count toward unlocking an alternative path back to the hub and opening up new routes in the process. What’s unique to this particular metroidvania take is that while there are new skills that open up new routes, your movement in general is uniquely freeform - point in a direction and off you go, free of any worries about platforming and the gravity that’d otherwise bind you. While it may not be the most precise movement given the size to which you grow - and boy does this become a point during some forms of combat - it does remain responsive, and quite fun to simply shamble about like a giant congealed blob of bloody, multi-toothed sinew-y mess. Everything scales up nicely on both sides of the fighting, with distraught pistol-equipped humans turning to shielded folks with flamethrowers, all the way up to drones and mechs that are just as mobile and / or deadly as yourself, even in spite of your own upgrades that allow for more ranged, varied, and sharper extremities. It’s not especially long, and is never so taxing as to demand too much expertise of you, but it is fun and importantly, quite unlike anything else out there.

Yoku’s Island Express

Pinball continues to feel like a lost art form to me, with the nuance of skilled play being more like a foreign language than another type of game you can easily pick up. Yoku, newly-appointed postmaster, is but a tiny little bug, and as such is indebted to these skills in his efforts to travel and clamber about an environment much larger than he. Flippers are casually littered about to shoot you from one area to the next, but there’s also plenty of sections you’re led to by the story that are small yet just detailed enough to play like a neatly sectioned off area of a complete table - complete with requirements for precise shots to move forward, and those inevitable moments where you have to sit back and watch as your ball falls with miserable, exacting precision between the flippers. Failure typically sets you back a few pickups, but given these are just as quickly re-earned, you’re never punished too hard - there’s certainly no three strikes and out mentality here. It’s a very friendly interpretation of pinball’s mechanics, and there’s a decent enough story layered on top, with its characters and art demonstrating enough pleasant charm that you can definitely see this being a great way to introduce pinball to a younger audience. That’s not to say it’s not enjoyable from an older player’s point of view - just that you know what’s being presented is a wisely palatable version of a classic hobby, rather than the arse-kicking ordeal you may be used to.

Rime

I am certain that Rime would love me to compare it to a certain Fumito Ueda PS2 game. There’s the ultra-minimal scene that’s set as a boy washes up on an island; a sparse, beautiful, somewhat Mediterranean set of landscapes, and with very few ways to interact with it all that don’t involve clambering over things or shouting out in wordless desperation. But as you’ll have noted, I haven’t found it in myself to justify using that game’s name here.

As much as I wanted to give this a chance, it often felt directionless, uninspired, and at worst, slow and tedious. The puzzles are derivative of any number of games I’ve played before, and the biggest danger is that you might assume as to their difficulty and over-engineer your approach, rather than not be able to tackle them. The platforming is simplistic and regularly drawn out with ledges, ledges, and more ledges to climb across and dangle from; even if you were to find a way to fall to your doom, as is tempting, it is unlikely to take you back much further than a few seconds. Crucially, there’s really very little to sink your teeth into on any front, and even when the game does finally start to weave some plot threads into the game’s canvas, it’s well into the latter half - long after I’d already racked my brains for any hint of an allegory that’d fit, and given up on expecting one. Sadly, to the point that the actual story felt like a cheap afterthought when it did finally start to unravel. This bounced off me much harder than I’d expected - I came away wishing it had forged a bit more of an identity and a purpose rather than just an aesthetic strung together with some weak elements of play.

If Found

As far as interactive elements in visual novel-type games go, If Found has a different approach to most. The story’s primarily told by means of a diary - one that’s full of witty observations, personal reflections and enigmatic sketches - that you actively erase as a means to push events along. The diary belongs to Kasio, a trans girl returning to their small Irish hometown after a stint away at university in the city; a return that’s not met in the warmest or most understanding fashion. As a mechanic, the erasure of this diary is loaded with meaning; peeling back layers of a scene often matches a more poignant set of observations, and the scrubbing of such personal details away offers a painful reflection on an identity being chipped away at. It’s very much a story about finding one’s self, about coming of age, and as it rides these highs and lows it does an excellent job in making you ride along these alongside the characters, and it does one hell of a job to make you think about the compassion that you both see and offer in the world outside. I’ll put my hands up and say that there are some elements of the story running in parallel to this main one that didn’t gel with me quite so well, but this is a minor footnote to an otherwise highly enjoyable play through. In a short space of time, Annapurna have done a great job in winning me over with their publishing choices - particularly in holding up the kinds of voices and ideas that fit these smaller titles so perfectly.

Double Kick Heroes

It’s a rhythm game. I like rhythm games! It’s about a zombie apocalypse. Oh no. It’s... a heavy metal rhythm game? Ok, maybe we can work with this.

After a trailer name dropping a bunch of familiar artists - Jinjer, Carpenter Brut, Gojira - what surprised me straight off was that none of these licensed artists featured in the game’s story mode. They’re all sectioned off in a separate menu, and while on the bright side they’ve each given a unique stage with a visual theming in keeping with the bands in question, it feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. Instead, all tracks throughout the story were composed by just one person, and with only a small handful of featured musicians being included to diversify things. It starts with more (arguably) palatable hard rock numbers, but goes up to and includes grindcore, death metal, black metal and the like, meaning that not only is it going to put a lot of folks off right away, but that it’s asking a heck of a lot for one composer to cover all of these sub-genres with the appropriate care. While it was refreshing to hear some types of music I’d normally not expect to hear in a game, some tracks inevitably grated, and while I enjoyed some others, I wasn’t ever bowled over too strongly either.

The story itself is fairly by the numbers. It sees an on-tour band fighting back against a zombie uprising, and has unsubtle references to any number of heavy artists, albums and songs shoe-horned in at every opportunity. It also bears the hallmarks of its dialogue being written by someone that has a very particular sense of humour which personally all fell very flat. While the team undoubtably do love music, the over-enthusiastic style rubbed me in a similarly uncomfortable fashion as Jack Black does regularly, with his half-comedian, half-musician schtick. The gameplay itself is based around the drum parts of its songs also corresponding to different weaponry on your car that holds the hordes back, and while this on its own can prove tricky, higher difficulties also mounts other expectations - like steering your vehicle, or alternating pedals to shoot different parts of the screen. Some of my frustration with all of this is likely my own fault for having chosen to play on the ‘Hard’ difficulty, but traditional wisdom feels a little bit lost when you can still get damaged when your combo meter is racked up well into triple digits.

In all, Double Kick Heroes presented some pretty unique gaming scenarios; like having to work out the best controller configuration to play blast beats with, or asking out loud “did I just hear the words ‘we are Genital Absolution’ coming from a Nintendo console?”, and it’s clearly a small team working on something they really care about. I respect that. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I was hoping, but I hope they’re proud of what they’ve created.

Manifold Garden

A puzzle game taking significant inspiration from the works of M.C. Escher is a pretty good starting point in my eyes. It being presented in a wonderful manner certainly doesn’t harm either; from the UI all the way into the game, it’s beautifully clean and defined, opting for delicate shading rather than messy textures, and with its intricate, recursive geometric patterns, you’ll likely find cause to stop and take stock on a regular basis.

One button looks after your basic interactions with the world (pushing, picking up, and so on), with your other crucial way of interacting with the world being the ability to approach a surface and then assign it as ‘the new down’ - spinning everything about an axis, planting your feet to it, and changing your perspective on everything. There’s a nice steady introduction of puzzle pieces as you ease your way in, but they all stem gracefully from these simple mechanics. That I - not the world’s greatest puzzle gamer - was able to enjoy this without every getting too stuck may hint at it perhaps not being as complex as some puzzle fiends might desire, however this amounted to me coming out the other side with great waves of satisfaction, and nought but positives to say. I would go so far as to say that it’s the most fun I’ve had playing a puzzle game in a long, long time, and to boot it’s also perhaps the game where I’ve used the screenshot button the most copiously. Wonderful stuff.

#ruiner #carrion #yoku's island express #rime #double kick heroes #manifold garden

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 6 years

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The Third Floor (1/?) - b.b.

Pairing: mobster!Bucky x neighbour!reader

Summary: You move to an apartment in Brooklyn seeking a fresh start, but all you get is an asshole neighbour. Little do you know, there is much more to him than meets the eye.

Warnings: none yet but there will be some in chapters to come!

A/N: Okay I have this whole series (pretty much) planned out and I’m super excited! There isn’t much mob-ishness to this chapter but trust me its coming. I have big plans! I hope you enjoy!

You hadn’t always hated Bucky Barnes.

Initially, you thought he would make a good friend.

You had moved into an apartment building in Brooklyn, seeking a fresh start. You had few friends and even less family, so you figured moving somewhere new and getting a new job would be the best possible way to create a new life for yourself. One a bit brighter than what you had been living.

The trouble was you didn’t really know how to make new friends in a place where you knew no one. Sure the people at work were lovely, but you couldn’t exactly become best friends with them overnight. And you didn’t really know where else to go to make friends. At all.

It had been one of the hottest days of the year, the day you saw your opportunity.

Despite your best attempts to get the air con working, it only seemed to be wheezing mildly cooler air into apartment 31 as you unpacked the last of your boxes. Despite having kept probably less than half of your old possessions from your old apartments, you had still managed to procrastinate unpacking almost everything.

“Thank god,” you sighed to yourself as you emptied the very last box.

You wiped the sweat from your brow before flattening all of the empty boxes and gathering them all up into your arms - not wanting to have to make two trips up and down the stairs to get to the recycling bin. Sadly for you, the elevator in your new apartment seemed to be constantly in and out of service, even in the limited two weeks you had been there.

You had been nearly running down the stairs, trying to reach the recycling bin before half the boxes slipped out of your grasp when you saw him, marching up the stairs with two boxes in arms looking infinitely more graceful than you currently did.

You didn’t even get to see his face as you continued speeding down the stairs, walking as close to the wall as possible to avoid running straight into him.

It wasn’t until you made it back up the stairs, having had to pick all your boxes back up after dropping them just a few feet away from your destination, that you got your first good look at James Buchanan Barnes. He was just exiting apartment 32, closing the door of the only other apartment on your floor, floor three.

His hair was pulled back into a bun, with a few strands of hair framing his face. He was dressed casually, in a navy blue shirt and jeans. His eyes widened slightly as he turned from his door to make his way back down the stairs, presumably to get more boxes, and locked eyes with you.

His blue eyes felt as though they were piercing you as the both of you just stood there for a short moment, and your heartbeat accelerated involuntarily, somehow more heat rising to your cheeks than was already present.

The moment was quickly broken, however, as he averted his gaze and continued his path back towards the stairs before you had the opportunity to formulate something to say.

As he thundered down the stairs, clearly in a rush to get moved in, you walked back into your own apartment, thinking to yourself.

Here was your opportunity.

Here was your opportunity to make friends. You clearly had common ground. You two were both new, maybe you could be in it together. Learning the area together. Both having the comfort of someone who is in the same boat as you. You could help him get settled in. Maybe he’d have friends he could introduce you to. Before you’d know it, maybe you’d have a whole group of friends, and stop leaning so heavily on Natasha, your best (and pretty much only) friend for social support.

It also didn’t hurt that he was one of the more attractive men you’ve come across in your life.

So, the morning after he moved in you got ready for work half an hour early, with the intention of having a quick chat with your new neighbour on your way out. Just a friendly greeting letting him know who you were. That was all you had in mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, before you knocked twice on his door. There was a long pause, and just as you raised your hand to knock again the door swung open revealing the brown-haired man you had seen in passing the day before.

He looked to be getting ready to go to work himself, with his dress shirt only half buttoned up and waiting to be tucked into his pants.

For a moment you said nothing, just standing there with your mouth half open. There was something about him that caused this particular pull in your chest, you just couldn’t quite place it.

“Can I help you?” He finally broke the silence, scowl on his face.

“Oh yes, sorry! I’m Y/N, I live in the other apartment on this floor, just across the hall,” you extend a hand for him to shake as you speak.

He does nothing but look at it and give you a one word reply of, “Bucky,” by way of introduction.

You refused to be put off by his cold demeanour, powering through and attempting to break the ice. “I’m so sorry to disturb you without any warning, especially when you seem to be getting ready to go to work but I just wanted to say that I’m new here too. I moved in only a couple weeks before you did.”

“And?”

You blinked rapidly, becoming increasingly irked by his cold (lack of) manners.

I’m sure he’s just having an off day, you thought to yourself. I did come over here uninvited while he’s clearly in a rush.

“Well I just thought since we’re both new around here, maybe we could stick together as we get to know the area. I’ll be honest I don’t have a lot of friends around here and so I thought since you might be in the same boat,” you smiled at him, hoping to break his expression of distaste.

“I have plenty of friends thank you. I certainly don’t need you as one,” he rolled his eyes.

Before you could react to his harsh words, your mouth falling open in shock, he had turned his back and slammed his door behind him.

By the time you reached work fifteen minutes later, your cheeks were still flaming with anger and embarrassment.

Two days later, somehow, you were on your way back to his apartment.

The thought of giving into the temptation of hating Bucky was enticing, but you pushed it aside. You had clearly caught him at a bad time. Sure it didn’t really warrant that reaction but everyone has said stuff they don’t mean in an off moment. You were sure he regretted it and was just too ashamed to face you.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had many other options in the way of making friends.

Your best friend Natasha was a workaholic, working for a prestigious criminal law firm, so she didn’t exactly have the time to be maintaining friendships. Like she was all you had, you were pretty much all she had. This, however, did not bother Natasha as it did you.

So after two days of cooling off, you decided to give Bucky a second chance. As some kind of peace offering you baked a batch of cupcakes, iced them a happy yellow colour, hoping it would brighten his mood, and carried them carefully to his apartment Saturday morning (praying to God he didn’t work weekends so you wouldn’t catch him at a bad time again).

After taking a deep breath, trying once again to steel your nerves, you knocked twice on his door. Seconds later, the door swung open. This time, you were greeted with a smile and a laugh.

Off to a better start already, you thought to yourself.

He was in grey sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt, clearly demonstrating you had caught him at a much better time. His shoulders were relaxed as he laughed, but you should have noticed immediately how little the smile truly extended.

“You just don’t know when to give up do you, doll?”

The smile that had crept up your own lips halted as you took in his demeanour. He crossed his arms over his chest, and you quickly noticed how his smile appeared more as a mocking smirk.

“I just thought I’d caught you at a bad time the other day so-“

“Yes,” he cut you off, “you certainly did catch me at a bad time the other day but that’s not the way I politely told you to fuck off.” The smirk never left his face, taunting you with the amusement he took from dashing your hopes of ever making friends. “I tried to make the message clear then, but I’ll make it very plain now. I don’t want the friendship of the sad, lonely, little girl who can’t make any friends for herself. I don’t want to sleep with you either if that’s what you’ve really been coming over here for. And I certainly don’t want your fucking cupcakes.”

Your blood boiled at his every word, and rather than trying to push it aside, you focused solely on your anger, feeling it as wholly as you could. God knows if you didn’t all you would feel was the hurt and embarrassment his words caused.

Both of you stood there in silence for a moment, but you were quick in your reaction.

“Oh,” you maintained a calm demeanour, despite how you truly felt. “You don’t want my cupcakes?”

Before he could say a word, you picked one up off the plate and shoved it straight into his face.

“Tough shit, asshole.”

Bucky stood there in shock, yellow frosting smeared over half of his face but you just turned your back and raised a single middle finger in his direction as you walked back down the hall.

The satisfaction you felt lasted a solid fifteen minutes before the sting of his words became more and more prominent.

At first you were laughing to yourself at not only the boldness of your actions but the look on his previously smug face as the cupcake dropped from his face to the floor, leaving a trail of frosting in its wake. But soon your laugh faded, and the energy in your step faded as you paced the apartment.

Sad, lonely, little girl. His words replayed in your head. Can’t make any friends for yourself.

His words shouldn’t matter to you. They shouldn’t. He was just a bitter asshole who didn’t know you. But for some reason, it felt like he did know you. Or at least you knew him.

You shook your head at yourself. He didn’t know you at all. But the truth to his words cut you where it hurt most. Angry, hurt tears sprung to your eyes and you wiped them furiously. Not wanting to shed tears over someone who was clearly not worth your time.

The truth was, however, the tears were not just for him. It was for how alone you felt in every aspect of your life. You knew no one, no one but Nat and you couldn’t help but feel completely lost.

As you grabbed one of the cupcakes you had put so much care and effort into, the tears finally won out as you shoved it into your mouth.

This would be the last breakdown, you told yourself as you relished in your emotions. Starting tomorrow, you’re a whole new, stronger person.

You did pretty well at keeping your promise to yourself.

First thing the next morning, you called Nat and demanded she go to lunch with you. “Don’t give me the work excuse, Nat. Even lawyers should get to take Sunday off,” you had told her.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I just-“

“Nope! No excuses. You work yourself too hard, Nat. You’re worrying me,” you lost your joking tone on the last sentence.

Yes, you did just want to catch up with your best friend. But also, you wanted her to take a break and stop working so hard.

There was a deep sigh over the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll see you in two hours.”

You cheered to yourself, happy to be leaving your apartment for something that wasn’t work.

Two and a half hours later, you and Natasha were chatting away over lunch when you decided to tell her about your new neighbour.

You spared no details, but spun everything to be some huge comedy to you, making light of the situation and hoping it would make you feel better about the whole thing.

“And then he says,” you laugh, getting ready to dive into your mocking imitation of Bucky, ‘“I don’t wanna be friends with a sad lonely little girl who can’t make friends for herself.’”

“He really said that?” Nat winced, seemingly failing to find the humour in your comedic masterpiece that was the retelling of an awful story.

“Yes he really said that, but just wait for the real kicker,” you said, getting excited for your grand finale, “he told me, like the unappreciative bastard he is, that he didn’t want my cupcakes. So I grabbed one off the tray and I smashed it into his face.”

Nat nearly choked on the sip of coffee she had been drinking.

At first you thought maybe she disapproved, and you began to reconsider your actions. Maybe you had taken it too far.

That is, until, Natasha dissolved into laughter.

“Oh my god, I’ve never been prouder of you!” she cried in between laughs, you yourself soon laughing along with her.

That afternoon you went home, still smiling to yourself some hours later. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Nat that happy.

You officially hated Bucky Barnes.

It was 7AM on a Saturday morning, two weeks exactly since the fateful cupcake incident, and you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts, the music blasting out of his apartment was so loud.

It had been a busy week for you at work, working hard to prove your worth in your new position in a week that was already flat out and now, on your weekend, all you wanted to do was sleep. Which was, sadly, hard to do when all you could hear was the banging of drums and shredding of guitars in whatever heavy-metal screamo song Bucky was playing for, probably, no particular reason other than to piss you off.

Honestly, you had barely seen in him in the two weeks since you had shoved that yellow frosted cupcake into his face, but on the occasions you had crossed paths, you had both given and received the meanest glares of your life. Never missing the muttered, “bitch,” under his breath following your mumbled “asshole”. Unlike two weeks ago, his words just rolled off your back like the rain now. Which is why, in this moment, you were not afraid to storm on over to his apartment and tell him to shut the hell up.

So that’s exactly what you did.

Hair a mess, still wearing your pyjamas (and certainly not your less embarrassing ones, either) you stomped on out of your apartment and over to Bucky’s, arriving at his front door in a huff.

Once more, you knocked (or rather slammed) on his front door twice, ensuring you were more than loud enough for him to hear you. You were almost going to slam your fist against the door once more before the door opened, just slightly, the door chain only allowing the tiniest opening for you to see Bucky’s face through.

“What the hell do you want this time?” Bucky sneered, as though it wasn’t obvious.

“First of all, I want you to lose the attitude. Secondly, I want you to turn this god awful music off or at the very least turn it down. Significantly,” you smiled sarcastically.

“Well since you asked so nicely…” he fawned contemplation of your request, “no can do.” He mimicked your sarcastic smile.

Just as you opened your mouth, ready to fire off a rebuttal, he slammed the door in your face.

You groaned angrily, quickly smashing your fist against the door as though it would cause him to change his mind.

He only turned the music up louder.

You just shook your head and stormed right on back to your room, burying your head underneath a pile of pillows in an attempt to muffle the noise.

Bucky, on the other hand, smiled to himself upon the door being shut before strolling casually back to his living room.

“So where were we?” He asked his guest, a glint in his eye.

A/N: Please give me some feedback! It’s been a while since I’ve sat down and written something (and even longer since I wrote a bucky fic) so any feedback would be wonderful!

My inbox /// my masterlist

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unimpressedperson · 5 years

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Jackpot | pt. 3 [FINAL]

(Found this picture in @youthstuffs , thank you for posting it)

Genre: Fluff and Crack, I guess…

Warnings: None

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x @taesbetch , Kim Namjoon x Reader

Word Counting: 8.5k

Synopsis: Nya spent her whole life in Las Vegas, she would never imagine that local knowledge would ever be useful. However, her vision changed when Kim Seokjin appeared and introduced her to a few friends, film producers, whose needed guidance through Las Vegas underrated places for a movie. She agreed in working for them, and in that moment none of their lives would ever be the same. What happens in Vegas, not always has to be kept in Vegas.

A/N: Heeeeeeeey Nya!! Finally the last chapter! The oneshot has originally 20.958 words, so I decided to split it in three chapters. It’s the final one. The closure of this rhapsody (am I cocky, lol?), yeah. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing, ‘cuz it was fun talking about RPDR, movies, Vhope, Jeon Seagull, Namjoon, you, Dragon! Yoongi au spitting fiiire oooh, Star Trek references, etc :) Forgive any grammar mistakes.

- x - x - x - x -

Yoongi knew it. He fucking knew it in the moment Namjoon began contending about some girl willing to guide them through Las Vegas. He saw back in then that something would rotten up during the process. Nothing could ever go soft and swift, every damn time, Kim Namjoon would come up with some drama, or Hoseok and Taehyung would fight, or the pipes from their filming location would BUST IN GEYSERS FROM EVERY WALL AND FLOOR.

He could gain money by showing off his auguring powers. At least from some dumb folk like Namjoon.

They worked together for 10 years. A decade living through ups and downs, but what kept their Cinematography Company moving and succeeding was the timing. Namjoon directs a successful movie, then gets involved with someone, breaks up and directs a shitty movie. It was a cycle in which Yoongi never complained and watched happening time after time. In 10 years, Kim Namjoon proved to be a genius and that he acknowledge the romantic vicious cycle, never defying it by getting involved with someone after almost breaking their business.

In situations of risk like these, Yoongi takes over his Spock role and always gives good advices to Captain Namjoon. It was his Vulcan power, after all. The Enterprise never bankrupted precisely because everytime one of the bosses made a bold move or a bad decision, someone would soothe it with a better idea or stopping before happening.

This time, though, Namjoon was being a stubborn bitch. Yoongi considered the idea of poisoning him and keeping the whole company under his name and charge.

Oh, he really pondered and even searched for undetectable poisons, but their 10 years story spoke louder than the homicidal side of Min Yoongi.

Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi met whilst working. They were producing the songs from a soundtrack, after so many nights of writing and playing instruments, sometimes all by themselves, their similarities brought them closer. A beautiful and honest friendship blossomed, nurtured with honest, curses, talent, humor, sarcasm and a lot of partnership.

Eventually, their dreams became way too big and only working for a company wasn't satisfying them. With their savings combined, Namjoon and Yoongi registered a firm called “Enterprise Inc.”. They had the name and ideas, but only when Taehyung and Hoseok appeared that their machine began working.

Independent movies were becoming a trend, so their company grew and more people got hired to different task. Jimin, Jungkook, Emerson, Jade, Taylor, Shmaillah, Zariah and Robin were now part of their big family. They treated each other like relatives.

However, since not everything happened smoothly, Namjoon also had his flaws. Unfortunately, his passion and volatility affected financially their business and finances. Kim Namjoon loved loving, but his kind of love changes fast and finishing a relationship always turned him into a grumpy man.

His longest relationship lasted 1 year and a half, with an author and professor of Creative Writing at London Institute of Art, Barbara. Unfortunately, their break up made Namjoon extra unbearable, to a point where the actors hired would quit and the filming had to be stopped. His mood swings almost led Enterprise to declare bankrupt.

Of course Yoongi dated, actually he's been officially living with Emerson for over five months, but his personal life never affected the professional. Home feuds stayed at home, even because his girlfriend worked as head from the Enterprise's Marketing and Advertising department.

After discussing, they slept for four hours. Yoongi always valued his sleep and would rest whenever (and wherever) possible, but their argue made the atmosphere inside the room unbearable. Namjoon couldn't sleep as well, he knew Min was right, but and if he allowed himself getting closer to Nya, then doubtlessly at some point would end up falling for her. Namjoon was an assumed romantic mushy, but with a volatile heart.

They went to the buffet, dragging a sleepy Jungkook and an awaken Hoseok jogging, dancing, humming and texting his boyfriend, also animated and sending copious audios thrilled with the last night events. Even though it was already noon, people having breakfast could be seen all around.

— I can see a whole bunch of people with last night’s makeup smudged. Walk of shame, guys. - Jungkook murmured after drinking a whole mug of coffee.

— You walked in the hotel with someone else’s skirt, smudged makeup and cummed pants in a brown paper bag. Walk of shame, bro. - Yoongi grinned and stared at Jungkook.

— Last night was nuts, wasn’t it? - The younger one asked, sipping from his second mug. - We started in a bar and end up in a Ball. What the fuck, I love my life.

— Yeah. Crazy night. - Namjoon disassembled himself from the conversation with a sweep of hand.

Jungkook could feel the tension around. Namjoon and Yoongi were clearly pissed at each other, and it was palpable around. The air was borderline toxic with so much electricity. However, Jeon could rightfully guess why. In his time working for Enterprise Inc., that same negative energy surrounded them plenty of times before. Currently, everyone knew their financial situation, since two actors decided to leave the project in order to get away from Namjoon and his bad temper, and one actress who broke contract after being casted to a bigger production.

Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon were great egos and minds. Working together represented war and success. They bickered, yet found ways to reconcile and respect each other’s differences, at least during toil days of finishing every detail, since both were also meticulous with lighting, angles, planning thoroughly even colours and shades. In fact, Jungkook graduated in cinema, but most of his practical knowledge was obtained by watching his bosses.

For a matter of fact, Jungkook could have chosen to remain in Korea and work with K-Dramas, movies or even MVs. Their cinematography industry was in constant growth, Jeon would never actually be unemployed, mainly with his fame as an idol. Even though his payment wasn’t the highest one, residing in London wasn’t impossible or uncomfortable, he could be classified as a wealthy lad, since the fame acquired during his boygroup years still paid him for image copyright licensing.

Jungkook was so famous in Korea, that every film produced by Enterprise Inc. sold like water on desert. Their film grossing came 6% from Seoul only. His stardom reached such a level that Jeon Seagull was mentioned beside great names like BIGBANG and Super Junior.

When Jungkook became 25 years old, his biggest fan club in England during a whole month sent 25 roses to the Enterprise Inc. building daily.

Although, even with fame and constant proofs of how influential he still was, Jungkook felt good by being treated like a younger brother. No one gave him a special treatment or rolled out a red carpet whenever he walked around. Once, after having a small party at Yoongi’s place, he vented with his hyungs about fame and all, Min Yoongi stared at him blankly and said placid:

— I couldn’t care less about your idol life and shit. For me, you are Jeon Jungkook and works with film editing, you can even sing whilst doing your job, but it will never earn you a golden star.

It worried him watching his hyungs and main inspirations brawling, probably over Namjoon’s love interest in Nya and how it would affect his work. Also, Jungkook knew about money problems and thought about offering some cash to help and stabilize their finances, however everyone knew Yoongi would rather sell a kidney before accepting any loan.

— NOO!! - Hoseok yelled and punched the table, cell phone still on his other hand and eyes furiously staring at the screen. That unexpected behavior startled everyone.

— What happened? Did someone die? - Namjoon questioned, genuinely worried.

— No! But someone is about to! Taehyung finished watching The Umbrella Academy without me! I'm going to kill my boyfriend! - Hoseok declared and began typing furiously.

- x - x - x - x -

Nya felt an apprehension in the air, like something was off. Namjoon and Yoongi barely looked at each other, definitely not a subtle change from their past behavior. It could be only a hangover, or not. Well, she wasn’t in such position to question them.

Whilst Namjoon and Yoongi were silent, Hoseok and Jungkook were jamming to whatever played on the radio, creating choreographies out of blue and pulling the grumpy men. Maybe in a common day things were like that, very balanced: two neutrons and two protons.

Their last demand was going to thrift shops, and places selling wigs. Their desire was an order, so Nya chose “Opportunity Village Thrift Store” and Honey’s favourite place to buy wigs.

The ride to Opportunity Village seemed to last forever. Namjoon wanted to talk and have fun along with Nya, Hoseok and Jungkook, but Yoongi could consider it flirting and throw a homeric tantrum. Oh, he would die out of embarrassment.

Arriving was a relief. Yoongi stretched his legs and stared at Jeon. Before leaving the hotel, they decided that having Yoongi always sitting on Hoseok’s lap wasn’t fair, so using their best tool of democracy (a.k.a rock, scissor, paper) the last ones would play to decide who would flump and who would be flumped. In conclusion, maintaining a Jungkook steady during a car ride isn’t comfortable.

Opportunity Village Thrift Store looked huge. Garment tracks, clothing rails, huge baskets and hampers with colourful fabrics and shoes. It felt like a paradise and a warzone. Namjoon seriously considered the idea of diving in one of them, only to test how it feels like, but kept a composed behavior.

Nya got in and pulled a huge pink coat from one of the baskets, throwing it in Yoongi’s direction, whose first reflex was to deviate, watching the fabric becoming a puddle on his feet. He picked it up and dressed. Understanding it as an ice-breaker, everyone else decided to have their fun exploring what the store had to offer.

— I’m gonna pop some tags. Only got 20 dollars in my pocket. - Hoseok began singing happily, getting out from the fitting room with a huge ass fur coat covering down his knees, pink glasses and platform shoes.

Jungkook was with his body halfway in one of the baskets, but after listening the fitting room’s door opening, he stood up using a baseball cap, a t-shirt made of black tulle with Xs covering the nipples. Hoseok never behaved discreetly, but seeing him all dressed up and singing Macklemore, it made Jeon cackle and sit on the ground.

— You look like an asian version of Elton John on a budget! - Jungkook managed to utter between guffaws.

Before Jungkook died out of laughter, Namjoon showed up with a brown ushanka covering his lilac hair, white jacket with voluptuous shoulder pads and a brown clutch. Jung was about to pronounce something, when Kim opened a huge and glittery fan that was hidden inside the jacket’s pocket.

— You look like a cheap version of Adam Lambert, Jeon. - Namjoon sounded serious, but a quirk dimpley smile took over his features.

Everyone laughed and looked around for Nya, since Yoongi was anything but undercover with his bright pink coat, sitting on one wooden bench close to the fitting rooms, he typed something on the cellphone, a deadly serious face, not even paying attention to all foolery.

The woman emerged from the third and last fitting room. She was using a dress made of golden sequins, her cleavage in evidence and left leg standing out of a opening. Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok shut up and stared at her in awe.

— Can someone please make a joke so I will feel less embarrassed? - She muttered, cheeks getting warmer and redder with their eyes laying on her stunning figure.

— Nya, Big Bird from Sesame Street called. - Yoongi pronounced without looking at her, still typing and unfazed. - He wants his drag queen dress back.

They got back to laugh until tears were streaming down their faces, even Yoongi giggled a little. Everyone went back inside a fitting room, dressing back their own clothes and going out, looking for more funny outfits.

…

Namjoon and Nya would never understand or feel able to explain how, but somewhere between laughing at a pair of ugly ass shoes and grabbing more stuff to try on, they found themselves making out inside one fitting room. Sitting on the ground, her legs straddling him and his hands cupping her ass, their mouths connected and only separated looking for air (or taking turns in kissing necks), lips moving in sync and desperately grinding against each other.

After a few minutes swirling tongues and trading saliva, they stopped gasping for air, foreheads touching and now fingers intertwined, laying on Namjoon’s lap. Nya smiled and gave him a quick peck, without saying a word. They agreed in making out without pronouncing syllables, got there and began smooching, not a single sound needed.

Namjoon moved his hands and posed them on her waist, smiling whilst staring and decorating every feature from Nya’s attractive face. The dimples, oh those dimples, she held his face and began kissing those goddamn cute details. Namjoon moved his face a bit, getting back to peck her lips passionately.

— I don’t want to leave this fitting room ever again. - Namjoon whispered watching Nya hop off his lap and sit beside him, laying her head on his shoulder, a long arm enveloping around hers.

— If we are going to do something else, then we gotta leave. - Nya murmured and caressed his clothed knee, making small heart shapes there.

— I like the way you think. - His free hand lifted her chin leaning a little to kiss there again.

Before they could even think about continuing the make out session, a loud knock on the door was heard, startling them. Namjoon froze on his spot when a deep voice was heard, most specifically Yoongi’s voice.

— Kim Namjoon, why is Nya inside a fucking stall with you? - He sounded pissed off and it scared even the woman.

— W-who told something about Nya being here? - Namjoon questioned, trying to keep his cool.

— Who told me? A blue bird appeared to tell me. - His sarcasm sharp and killer like a knife, as always. - I COULD HEAR SOMEONE WHIMPERING FROM THE FRONT DOOR! AND IT WAS YOUR WHIMPERINGS!

Looking around, Namjoon tried to find another exit other than the door, in vain of course. Nya noticed Yoongi’s frown when he saw they kissing the day before, but would never imagine how against making out with her. By the way, why did Min even cared about it? Well, she didn’t understand, but Kim’s reaction surprised her: Glancing around desperately, fidgeting and anxious.

Did Yoongi carry a gun with him after all?

— Namjoon, you know I wouldn’t care about your romantic life, if you were capable of dicking down someone without falling in love and ruining our business! - Yoongi scolded profusely, words spitted like fire. The small man had flames inside his belly, always keen to burn whoever dared to cross his path and stumble. When their partnership became real and moneymaking, Namjoon’s creativity and intellect lost ground to Yoongi’s audacity, geniality and incredible honesty. Everyone in a meeting could witness how Min grows talking about money, market and tactics on getting attention, the same way Kim shrinks. 148 IQ points, tall and intimidating, but the business head looked like a human Hamtaro.

Indeed, Namjoon felt rickety closer to Yoongi. Who wouldn’t? Although their partnership equally shared in 50% of profit between them, who always controlled their accounts and hired people was Yoongi. Kim Namjoon was creative and smart, but Min Yoongi was ferocious, visionary, not afraid of facing bigger companies and calling attention to their work. Success depends on many more aspects than a well produced movie, knowing how to speak with business man, sell their product and spread their name. The universe knows Enterprise Inc., Mr. Spock always the mind, Captain Kirk their face and voice.

Namjoon wholeheartedly respected Yoongi, which was a mutual feeling.

It’s not like Yoongi was perfect and never made mistakes during their ten years career, running a filming company and producing polemical content.

Seven years ago, Min Yoongi dived from head to toe in a project about korean idols selling girls around the world, promoting prostitution and drug dealing. The movie was a mixture of documentary and fiction. Purposely or not, apparently the villain portrayed resembled a lot a certain manager from some big entertainment company and they were sued. Back in then, drowning in debts, Namjoon sat down and studied similar cases, learning with someone else’s past equivocation, he based their marketing on that judicial situation.

In the same way his sharp tongue and bold behavior made them big, Yoongi also caused a lot of trouble by saying something offensive. Once, Min Yoongi argued with a group of australian entrepreneurs, owners from a huge farm with mines around, a collaboration organised with Seokjin’s help was being discussed. Maybe joking about their political bias wasn’t the best choice of icebreaker, ‘cuz when they found themselves, Mr.Smith was red in anger and punching the table stopping himself from whacking Yoongi’s face.

However, Yoongi was right, Namjoon falls in love way too easily. Perhaps it was loneliness, or his massive levels of empathy. Fearing the loss of his company, Min Yoongi felt the grip and patience held along their trip fly away in the moment Jungkook and Hoseok appeared, but Kim and Nya were nowhere to be seen. Whimperings inside one stall, it was the last straw.

Nya and Namjoon got out the fitting room, red as beets. Yoongi had a hand covering his face, pissed off and trying to control his voice volume, not wanting to cause a stir.

— Why do you care? What happened of so serious? - Nya raised one eyebrow, still confused about Yoongi’s reaction about them making out. He would be sane to complain about public display of affection, but not the whole idea of someone kissing another human being.

— Namjoon is a workaholic, but also has a huge problem with loneliness. - Yoongi slid the hand down his face and stared at her, dead opaque eyes. - Every single time he gets attached to someone and breaks up, who deals with his tantrums and childish behavior, grumpy face and irascible humour, believe me, wouldn’t be you, it would be me, our hired actors, and of course our ring of friends. He gets unbearable.

— But we are not dating or in love, if anything ever happened, it wouldn’t leave Vegas. You are overreacting. - She was clearly embarrassed with the whole situation, when did she expressed any feeling of passion? Nya flirted with Namjoon and mentioned sex, but never said anything about dating, falling in love, or whatever.

— Yoongi, you are being irrational. I’m not in love, we are just young, horny and getting along. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. - Namjoon backed up Nya, pissing the hell off of Min, who took a long and deep breathe.

— Exactly! What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but you know who else will be staying in Vegas? Us. We’re coming back in a month and if you dick her down now, you will probably want to get another dose after. I want you fully focused on working in ‘Fierce’, not splitting your thoughts between tortuous falling in love and doing your job properly. - The shorter man spat, again fire coming off his mouth.

— I’m focused! I’m having fun, but also analyzing every place we’ve been to!

— Oh, you are focused, right? Focused like a fucking cannon under a drunk man’s watch! - Min Yoongi snapped, if he ever worried about not causing a stir, then it disappeared like Namjoon’s rationality. - Do you know what I was doing whilst everyone tried on clothes? I was trying to resolve some of our location renting problems and checking how the filming for our other projects are going. - He got closer to Kim, poking one of his long fingers against the taller one chest. - By the way, did you make any contact with Enterprise every since we landed in Vegas? Did you check your phone? Did you worry about anything other than inserting your dick in somewhere or someone?

— No, but… - Namjoon suddenly felt small and shrinking more and more.

— That’s what I thought! Your whole focused ass is whipped and willing to lose everything we fought for, all for one night stand with some random one!

— Shut up! - Nya yelled, flustered and vexed, stepping closer to Yoongi. - Don’t you dare referring to me as if I’m not here. Don’t you ever treat me like someone random, trivial. I’m not a random someone, I’m the one guiding you around Las Vegas for free. It may not be something as big as filming a movie, but it’s also helpful. - She poked Yoongi’s chest, he gave one step back, their discussion drawing attention from people looking around, Hoseok and Jungkook showed up. - Your posh ass can be rich, or the owner from a company, but don’t you dare talking about me like a brainless person, someone incapable of fucking with someone without growing fond of that person! Your friend can be sappy and weak minded, but I am not. You don’t know me, Min Yoongi.

— We better leave before anything else is said, right Joon? - Jungkook asked, pulling Yoongi by one arm in the door’s direction.

— Yes, please, I don’t think I can keep on guiding you guys, I would say I’m sorry, but it is not true at all. - Nya seemed gloomy, but also frustrated. They were discussing sexism and pre-concepts in a movie, but Yoongi’s opinion about her seemed far from awaken. Maybe it was more about Namjoon and his past relationships, but why couldn’t Min consider her vision? A relationship necessarily has to have two sides, and both agreeing with their terms. Even if Kim fell in love, nothing would ever happen again if Nya did not fancy it.

Women do have voices and their standpoint should be taken seriously.

Maybe Yoongi wanted to protect both parts from heartbreak or unhealthy obsession, but what a problematic way of showing his worries. Why couldn’t he just ask for Nya’s opinion? It’s not fair or right.

Nya watched them leaving, Yoongi frowning and Namjoon in shock, both being dragged down by Hoseok and Jungkook. Everyone inside the thrift shop staring at them, dividing their glances between Nya and the group.

- x - x - x - x -

Whilst packing their bags again, Yoongi checked his pocket list of goals for the travel. He concluded that everything needed was basically sorted, places chosen and their owners actually liked them, which would make it easier to bargain better renting prices. Their casting situation and debt with Nya could be solved within days and a few phone calls, since while Namjoon was flirting, Jungkook and Hoseok were doing some bullshitery, Min gave his cellphone number to a no number of people.

Staring at Namjoon and his gloomy eyes felt heartbreaking, but Yoongi knew that it was the right thing to be done. Kim needed to keep his head on the game. They only had one chance, and oh boy, Min Yoongi would hold it with claws and teeth.

Nya was a bewildering creature and, after filming everything, Yoongi would totally invite her to their premiere, however in order to actually having a Premiere, they first had to rent places, cast people, transport their shit, direct, film, edit, and first of all, not declare bankruptcy. Namjoon should’ve know better, acting like a horny teenager would be the death of them.

The lilac-haired man wished things could be different, but Yoongi was correct and sane: Kim Namjoon would never know how to balance a relationship with work, at least not without slipping at some point and getting hurt.

Namjoon was aware of his workaholic condition. All of his relationships got to dramatic endings after spending hours in a row inside his office, studio or even at home, but with a notebook almost morphing into his lap. Every single one of his past girlfriends were very understanding, and accepted that working represented over 80% of his life, routine and thoughts, but being pushed into the background felt tiring. Namjoon hurted himself so many times with that and promised to change, which never happened.

Let’s face it, his fate had nothing to do with a successful love life.

Truth be told, but never convinced. Namjoon thanked mentally Yoongi, he saved Nya from a very frustrating life beside him.

Hoseok and Jungkook didn’t dare to say a word from hotel to airport. No one felt the need. Silence seemed adequate and anything else would only trigger into bickerings. There was no energy or disposition to raise voices and argue.

Silence and rain, those words defined their travel back to England.

- x - x - x - x -

— Zariah finished the filming of “Beast”. She sent the files to Jimin and Jungkook, but I think they will need my help, since Jeon is stuck with all those sequential cuts Yoongi made during “Je M’appelle Carinè”, and Park is simultaneously working on the sound effects for our first animated short-film “Poundcake”, and in… Oh Jimin is recording the soundtrack to “Fierce”? I’m proud of him. - Taylor, a short, chubby young lady, with short brown hair and sparkling eyes, was standing in front of Namjoon’s office table, staring at her iPad and checking every information, whilst he stared blankly outside the window. - Should I keep on working as your secretary? Or can I help Kook and Chim Chim on editing “Beast”?

— What? What did you just say? - Namjoon looked at her, blinking fast and slowly getting back to reality. - Sorry, Tay. I lost myself in my mind again. It’s been happening more often than I would like to assume.

— That’s alright. - She pulled a chair and sat in front of him, placing the iPad on her lap. - What’s bugging you, Joon?

Namjoon gazed again outside, eyes oscillating between shining and getting opaque again. Where should he even begin with? His mind was hopping from thought to thought, concern to concern, and somehow, even filled with preoccupations, Nya always danced between daydreams and awaken nightmares. Despite trying his best to forget and move on, the lady with a contagious smile, beautiful eyes and the smoothest skin ever seen found her way back to divagations.

Enterprise Inc. wasn’t placed in a huge building, actually, they placed had to place a billboard outside to indicate where the firm resided. An ancient building about to be demolished, that’s why Namjoon and Yoongi could bid a whole four floor building for such a bargain. With its structure, the duo fixed some details and reformed every flat, turning into different studios. Every deck had a specific department: first video editing and animation (recently inaugurated by Taehyung and Hoseok after finishing their online animating course), second reserved to audio (both recording and editing, Yoongi built his office there) and characterization accessories, third filming studios, last everything related to managing (marketing, advertisement, Human Resources, Management, and of course, Namjoon’s office). No one would ever imagine how proud Kim and Min were of their achievements, every award and nomination resulted in motivation. They were succeeding, from the bottom and going higher.

Imagining himself waking up and heading to somewhere else, other than the building made of red bricks and black doors, that thought scared the shit out of Namjoon. He would never cooperate or live happily after declaring bankrupt and having to shut down his business, at least not after conquering so many prizes, awards, incredible movies under his name. No, closing doors would never be an option.

— Taylor, I know everyone is aware of how ramshackle is our financial situation. Those projects, “Beast”, “Je M’Appelle Carinè”, “Poundcake” and “Fierce”, are our last string of hope. That’s why we are rushing to finish and release them. - Taylor nodded, in fact, everytime Namjoon and Yoongi argued behind closed doors, rumours around the office were spread. - Specially “Fierce”, we are investing every dime left in that. It’s probably our most expensive and laborious movie, but we count on it to keep us working for a few more months. Two weeks ago me, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook went to Las Vegas and rented places to film, but something happened there.”

“See, our guide, Nya, is the most dazzling creature alive. Not a single soul ever made me feel so impressed in my whole life, yet I can’t get attached to her. Not before finishing the filmings for “Fierce”, it would make me lose focus and possibly fuck everything up. It’s not my intention, but I can’t get her out of my head. Whenever I stop and think, she is there, dancing through my worries and thoughts.”

— Joon, why can’t you talk to her? - Taylor pushed her glasses down the nose bridge and raised one eyebrow. - It seems like by avoiding Nya, you are focusing in nothing else but her. Maybe this time your romantic curse was casted differently. You are not dating her, perhaps the vicious cycle is broken. Also, being unable to think about anything else won’t help you directing.

— I don’t know… - Namjoon pouted and laid his head against the wooden table, leaning the forehead there.

— When the filming to “Fierce” will begin?

— In two weeks. - Namjoon mumbled without raising his head, but now facing his brown walls. - We casted some american actors and actresses, our luggage is being packed, Yoongi made deals with every place to film, rented a house for the crew and us.

— You have two weeks to decide whether you want to invest in something with Nya, or not. It’s up to you. - Taylor made a flourishing movement with one of her hands, whilst standing up and staring again at the iPad. - Now about the “Beast” video editing...

— Go help Jimin and Jungkook. - Namjoon dismissed her and got back to his thoughts.

- x - x - x - x -

— Namjoon, you know I hate to accept when I’m wrong, huh? - Yoongi had an U shaped pillow around his neck, resting peacefully on a comfortable seat, whilst Kim typed on the notebook, adding some reminders on the script to himself. - But I think you should call Nya and ask her out.

— What? Why? - Namjoon turned his head and stared at Yoongi's unfazed face.

— You never had to take notes on scripts in order to work right. You are way a fucking genius, with 148 IQ points, had written masterpieces and composed glorious songs. - Min said without looking at his friend, but placing a hand on his knee. - In the past month you barely talked during reunions, you've been unfocused and divagating, also I spoke to Emerson, and she mentioned a certain talk you had with Taylor. Man, you need Nya and it's insane. You spent less than 24 hours by her side and now living without talking to her seems like a punishment. I don't understand how and why, but if contacting her during our permanence in Vegas will cheer you up, then I'm 100% supporting you. We need our leader, our main director.

Namjoon got back to typing without delivering a single sentence, Min’s hand still on his knee. Suddenly the space between their seats felt tinier, they were way too close and He needed to absorb Yoongi’s new position on Nya’s awe. Indeed, having his approval on looking for her was amazing, but how? During their trip to Las Vegas Min Yoongi said harsh things, leaving right after. Upon weeks of silence, even having Nya’s phone number saved, Namjoon never made effort to apologize, keep in touch or whatever. He respected Yoongi’s opinion, but his spitted phrases and dark tone made both parts highly uncomfortable.

He wanted and decided that looking for Nya was part of his plans whilst filming in Las Vegas, but embarrassment spoke louder and clearer. Namjoon wanted, but had no balls to accomplish it. At least not after remaining mute whilst Yoongi spat mean words at her, he could’ve defended their situation, stand up and put Min on his place. Well, what happened was far from ideal.

All Namjoon could think about, even before hearing Yoongi’s concerned and caring words about his mental state, was Nya, and what were the chances of her accepting to go on a date with him. Namjoon despised the idea of Nya evicting him.

Unlike Yoongi thought, Namjoon wasn’t in love before. It took him an array of nights stalking Nya’s Facebook page, checking her Instagram and reading how passionate her friends seemed to feel. Now, he felt obsessed and slightly uncomfortable with the idea of being dumped.

Nonetheless, Namjoon decided to pull himself together, grow a pair of balls and try. ‘No’ is a possibility, risking won’t harm.

Trying to gather some courage, the lilac haired man opened a new Word file and named “Captain’s Log”, getting in full Star Trek mode, he was Captain Kirk afterall.

“Captain’s log. Stardate -303753.640. We are arriving in the dusty and hot atmosphere of Las Vegas, a city located in the middle of Nevada, a state from United States of America, North America, one of the seven continents from planet Earth. My Vulcan friend, Mr.Yoongi, possessor of a great logical intellect is encouraging me to look for a human partner in our new location, specifically someone already acknowledged by Enterprise as homo sapien sapien, formed by carbon and XX chromosomes, turning it into a fascinating woman named Nya by her genitors. After our last expedition through Las Vegas, the relationship development between Enterprise’s Captain, yours truly, and terrestrial local resident Nya were harmed by Mr.Yoongi’s behavior towards her. Nevertheless, I’m willing to change our perspectives and get another chance.”

- x - x - x - x -

Saturday. A boring afternoon ghosting over Nya’s body, sitting on her couch along with Alexa. They were watching something about wildlife in Taiwan forests on National Geographics, a bowl with caramel popcorn between them and cups of mint tea. The curly-haired woman stared around her living room, noticing how the yellowish painting was peeling and slowly showing stripes of the white paint under it. Basically, her walls looked like an albino zebra. The purple sofa comfortable and everything else seemed pretty fitting, not needing to be replaced or moved. Oh, she was proud about her good taste in decoration.

Boredom hit Alexa like a truck and a deep grunt left her throat, almost scratching its way out. She grabbed the remote control and began zapping through channels, looking for something more interesting than animals mating or bullying each other.

— We should go out. You look like a mushy potato in that set of sweats. Is it yellow because you’ve been copiously using that for the past four weekends, or is it the original colour? - Alexa snorted, trying to combat boredom with jokes. - Honestly Nya, what the fuck happened? You explained something about Korean entrepreneurs, but as far as I know you’re not eager in investing on stock market, so I don’t know why their business would affect you. Did you get involved with one of them?

— No shit, Sherlock. - Nya mumbled and took a sip from her tea, trying to gather some words without sounding grumpy. - I have nothing to do with their business, but see, they hired me to guide them through Las Vegas. I’ve done that once before for one of their friends, the Seokjin guy I told you. Remember?

— Seokjin? The cocky and rich film producer? I remember him, he was funny and immensely confident, literally, I’ve never seen someone so sure about his looks. - Alexa kept her glance on the television. - Big dick energy at its finest.

— Yeah, him. - Nya avoided talking about Namjoon and cia, but now, completely alone with her best friend, it seemed like a good moment to vent. - One of the film producers I accepted to guide, he was funny, interesting, smart and a very good kisser, although, apparently someone deeply confusing. Like, I felt interest on him, but never said shit about being in love, unlikely what Yoongi understood and took as the gospel truth, his friend could cherish me with a thousand roses, but I would never date him and then break up, even because it takes more than 24 hours wandering around sin city and a good fuck for me to enamor someone.

“I don’t know how are the girls they know and usually go out with, but I’m not innocent. We don’t live in a book from Jane Austen. They claim to be so woke and liberal, discussing pre-concepts, sexism and homophobia on their scripts, but behaving and thinking like Mr.Darcy. Did they ever consider a scenario where women have voices and opinions? A scenario where I can easily say no and continue my life? See, I’m not hurt because I’m fancying Namjoon, but because from the moment they introduced themselves and their ideas, they seemed like progressivists, looking for equality, open-minded guys, willing to fight our biased society with their movies. However, Yoongi insinuating that Namjoon and I would ever date or engage in a long-lasting romantic relationship, without even considering my perception on it all, the possibility of the woman only looking for a good fuck. He literally throw a tantrum in a thrift shop about it, calling me some random one. The delusion hurt me.”

— Uh girl, I’m sorry about it. That Yoongi guy really assumed some fucked up things about you. - Alexa turned to stare at her friend, who didn’t spare a look from the television, even though she wasn’t actually watching it, only avoiding eye contact. - But you went through several deceptions along life, why is that different? What happened lately that you remain thinking about them? Or him?

Nya got tired of staring at nothing and met Alexa’s brown eyes, thick and beautiful eyebrows. She took her cell phone and found the long text Namjoon sent a few hours before, throwing it to the friend, keen to understand everything surrounding her grumpy aspect.

“Kim Namjoon [03/31/2019, 8h34min]: Hey Nya.

Sorry taking so long to contact you. I couldn’t find words apologizing my behavior four weeks ago. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can say now. I could’ve defended you, Yoongi acted like a jerk and said some hurtful things, which I don’t agree 100% with. I wasn’t in love back in then, but I understand his side from this story. Yoongi is worried about our finances, which I was the responsible for fucking up. Let me explain it all, expose the situation we unintentionally inserted you in.

A few months ago I broke up with an incredible woman who taught me a lot, but also couldn’t bear my working schedule and how I always set her aside. The career I built along with Yoongi always goes first, it’s my main priority, and I never learned how to balance ‘working Namjoon’ with ‘dating Namjoon’. The result of that break up was a moody me, who brought hell to surface and made two of our casted actors quit, they couldn’t deal with my humour (beside one who quit after receiving a better role somewhere else). It really cost us way too much, since they received for working day and we couldn’t ask their payment back. Also, when the infamous movie was released, the numbers were low and barely covered our bills and paychecks, media and critics criticized it harshly.

However, what happened is a vicious cycle which I’m stuck in. It’s one of the certainties from life: death, the ones most adaptable to change will survive and that I’m fucking up a relationship and then ruining a movie. Yoongi always found a way to contort it and put us back, saving our finances, but this time the loss was gigantic. Our company is solely relying on the success of ‘Fierce’, and a few other projects we will be releasing.

I’m not trying to find excuses for everything Yoongi spat to your face, he was rude and unnecessarily loud, but I’m begging you to consider his side as well. We are not up to losing our company, it’s our deepest fear. Min Yoongi and his stone cold heart is trying his hardest to get our butt off bankruptcy. I guess inside his head, he is willing to drag me away from anything considered as a distraction.

Now, enough of Yoongi and our financial trouble. Let's talk about feelings.

Yeah, I'm a lonely man and tend to get attached pretty easily. However, I wasn't in love with you. Nya, you seemed like someone really interesting and attractive, I'd rather chew my feet off than leave Las Vegas without kissing you. You are smart, independent, proactive, empathetic and friendly. Within hours being guided by you through Vegas, we saw how passionate you are about people you grew surrounded by, how you care deeply about them all and are willing to give up on money in order to help them.

By the way, our deal is still up and we casted your friends (Carol even gained a solo scene where she dances and Sasha got lines). Hopefully they already told you, but if they didn't and you are suspicious of my word, get in touch with everyone you introduced to us.

Continuing…

I wasn't in love with your back in then, but after two weeks thinking about it all and checking your social media (sorry about it :S), I grew fond of you. Everyone seems to love you so much and your heart is so big, couldn't help and now I, Kim Namjoon, am fancying you as well.

I'm not hoping to gain your mercy, but am willing to try and get your sympathy back. Would you go out with me sometime? Not in a romantic way, if you don't feel comfortable.

Again, I'm sorry about how it all began and hope we can fix it.

I'll be staying in Vegas for a while.

Thank you. Bye :) “

— First of all. Did he deadass structured the text like an e-mail? - Alexa looked up from the cellphone in time to see Nya grinning. - You are considering the idea of accepting his invitation? Girl, I ain't gonna tell you what to do, but that Namjoon doesn't seen to be a jerk, he could've just gave up, but he insisted and apologized. Did he actually casted everyone you asked to?

— Yes. Two weeks ago I received a text from Carol and Sasha, they thanked me and all. Tio Diego is also renting his bar for their movie. They also chose Paris as the main filming place, casting Honey too. - Nya felt divided, hoping on Alexa's opinion to define what should be done. - I'm still a bit hurt for what happened, but they proved their integrity by casting and renting everything and everyone I suggested. Namjoon apologized, gave me Yoongi's point of view and invited me to a date, giving me the option of saying no or defining if it's romantic or not.

— Nya, I don't see a plausible reason why you would say no. - Alexa’s hand snaked between them and landed on the other woman thigh. - You are only trying to find excuses because you are stubborn. If you want to, then go, get dicked down and you don't necessarily have to head back to him ever again. Even though he assuredly grew fond of you, it doesn't mean you obligatory have to engage in an actual relationship.

Nya huffed and slapped Alexa’s hand off her thigh. She hated when the girl with wavy black hair was right, and unfortunately Alexa seemed to never be wrong.

- x - x - x - x -

The night sky was clear and the air cool, wind making leaves from trees huff against each other and a chill run through everyone's spine. However, Namjoon felt sweat bidding down his forehead, anxiously shifting from one foot to another and resisting the urge to bite his nails.

The lilac-haired man was standing alone in front of Devito’s, same dining Nya took them the first night. His white t-shirt covered by a thin plaid shirt, jeans and white Converse, outfit plained specifically to seen laidback, since Nya chose the place and said it wasn't a fancy date. She was a ten minutes late and Kim had this crazy thought culminating in his mind, where she probably gave up and would call at any moment to dump him.

With 15 minutes of delay, Nya showed up dressed casually with a black Iron Maiden t-shirt, brown corduroy coat, skinny jeans and Vans. Her curly hair free and adorning the whole picture, no makeup, except for a cherry coloured lipstick. Flawless, Namjoon felt like his legs were made out of jelly and would collapse. His guts contracted in the same moment butterflies attacked his stomach. His mind hazing and suddenly his vocabulary vanished, being resumed by the extensive plethora of words pronounced by someone 2 years old, basically “bluh”.

The first half hour from their date felt weird. No one knew what to say, so small talk almost defeated them, but Namjoon decided to insist. Between eating burgers for dinner and dying out of embarrassment from going out in such situation, Kim decided to thank Nya.

His grateful words somehow touched Nya's heart. He sounded so sincere and whipped by her presence, that keeping the attitude of someone offended seemed pointless. Alexa was right, Namjoon liked Nya.

Goddamnit, Alexa.

Like a chain of gratitude, Nya thanked Namjoon for remaining faithful to his promise of casting her friends. He blushed and sipped on his fizzy cherry drink, grinning slightly, dimples marking their presence and reminding the woman why she thought Kim Namjoon was such a heartthrob beforehand.

Those dimples. Goddamnit, dimples. How can you be mad at someone desperately fluff with such a cute face? Nya wanted to stay loyal to her belief and hard feelings, but Namjoon's polite behavior, lovely face and insistence made it specially complicate.

Goddamnit, Namjoon.

Their body language clearly showed how the unsolved business led to a huge amount of sexual tension, Nya could bear it masterly though. Talking about everything and nothing at all, that's how Namjoon decided to speak his mind. What's the point of sitting and awkwardly pretend there is not an elephant in the room? Well, let's excuse it and set the pachyderm free then.

— Nya, I don't know if you are ever going to forgive me for not standing up for you, or whatever… - Namjoon's hand slipped swiftly closer to Nya's, touching her pinky but not holding it, avoiding more of an intimate contact.

— It's not that you didn't stood up or defended me, see there is so much more. Did you guys ever consider the idea that, I don't know, I could easily not want something serious with you? - She allowed his pinky to snake from her side and lightly take a hold of it. - I'm not mainly mad at you, disappointed with both Yoongi and you, though. For guys claiming to be so open-minded, then why is it so hard to assume I don't want a relationship? That I'm glad having something unofficial and leaving? Fuck, you make it so hard to believe you are an hypocrite.

— I'm not an hypocrite. I do believe in women's sexual freedom and ability to choose partners without necessity of commitment. I'm shitty at not getting attached, it doesn't mean that everyone else is also suckers for love. - His gaze was no longer on her eyes, but staring down to his own lap. - Indeed, we discussed my side, claiming I’d fall for you and ruin our project, but never considered your opinion, the possibility of you wanting nothing related to me. We behaved in such a sexist way, I’m profoundly sorry.

Their order arrived, someone almost spinning on her calves. Burgers and fries, so much cheese melting down the seeded bread. What a vision. If the conversation wasn’t in such an uncomfortable place, Namjoon would probably declare his passion for the juicy and greasy food in front of them.

The chit-chatting kept its slow pace. If National Geographics decided to make a parallel between their behavior and animals socializing, then they were trying to mingle, like Taiwan birds, Nya and Namjoon were singing in order to attract each other, hoping to link and connect. They got along once, why was it so hard to do it again? What wasn’t being said? Who was holding the cat inside the bag?

— I think I’m fancying you. - Namjoon finally took the cat out of the bag, or it could be a mice, ‘cause within seconds the elephant sitting on their conversation got up and left. Gone late, pachyderm.

— What? - Nya lifted an eyebrow. - I don’t know why I’m surprised, you said it in the message. Sorry, keep talking.

— When I closed all deals and rented everything we needed for the filming here in Vegas, my friends and my crew was all like ‘Heck yes, Vegas! Strippers, gambling, money, casinos, yaay!’, and even trying my best, the hardest, to focus on working and directing a masterpiece this script deserves to originate, all I could think about was you. - Namjoon decided it would be appropriate to look at Nya, she seemed unfazed, which made him nervous. - Travelling hours in a flying sardine can to see Nya! No one, except for the boys and Jin knew who you are, and kept on questioning me why so much anxiety and excitement over seeing you. And not even I understood. Working and wondering about what you could be doing really messed with my head. Nya, you messed with my head!

— Ok, Namjoon, it’s a lot of information. - She didn’t spare a look, he felt intimidated, but Nya’s behavior never showed any insecurity. - I don’t fancy you, but it doesn’t mean I cannot grow fond of you at any moment. However, in order to see it happening, you’ve got to insist. If you really want to be with me, then you’ll need to stick along, we’ve got to go out more, in different places. We can totally link up and have great sex today, but it won’t guarantee another row. Got it?

Well, Namjoon felt relieved. Nya was far from being mad at him. Oh, he remained willing to go out, as long as she was there.

In the end, if Nya and Namjoon’s story was something elaborated by Jane Austen, then it would be Sense & Sensibility. Nya and her sense changed how Namjoon dealt with his sensibility, breaking a vicious cycle, where engaging in a romantic relationship without previous thinking ruined all logical thoughts and mature behavior.

The end.

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ktrsvo · 6 years

Text

home is here, with me

in which a boy falls in love with his best friend six times over the span of eleven years.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116882

Shouto is seven when he falls in love for the first time.

His name is Midoriya Izuku, and he’s new to their school. Warm-skinned, curly-haired, and dimpled, with freckles dusted across his cheeks like powdered sugar, he is easily the cutest boy Shouto has ever laid eyes on. Yaoyorozu says love at first sight doesn’t exist or make any sense, but even though she’s the smartest in their class and therefore right about most things, Shouto knows for certain that she’s wrong about this one.

“You should go talk to him, then. Unless you’re too chicken,” Yaoyorozu suggests during recess, primly lifting her skirt as they hop over a stretch of mud.

There on the bench Midoriya sits, deep in conversation with the aspiring astronaut girl—Uraraka Ochako. He’s waving his hands around like a magician Shouto once saw on television—all loud gestures and bold lines, every movement conveying purpose, intent. He even has the gaze of one, too; his eyes, they’re as bright as twin stars and just as enthralling, in the sense that if you look too long you’ll eventually be sucked into their orbit, spellbound.

“I know. And I will,” Shouto says, scuffing his shoes against the sand. A dusty plume dislodges from the ground. Yaoyorozu frowns at him.

“Now you’ve done it,” she sighs. “Your best pair, ruined.” After a while, she tugs him under the shade of a wide, wide maple tree no kid their age ever dares climb, and tries to force him into brushing up on his arithmetic skills.

Instead Shouto watches Midoriya from afar. Watches the sunlight catch on the green of his hair. Watches it splay across his face, freckles rendered aglow.

This mooning goes over a week with no move made on Shouto’s part when the teacher assigns Midoriya to Shouto’s table group. The two other kids Shouto sits with quickly become dull and lifeless to the tidal wave that is Midoriya.

He is overwhelming, to say the least. In a good way. In a supremely awesome way, Shouto decides when Midoriya gives him a large grin over his book of fairytales.

“It’s nice to meet you, Todoroki!” Midoriya exclaims, scooting closer to him.

Shouto says, “Hi.” Or maybe he mumbles it out instead. He should stop doing that; Yaoyorozu says no one’s ever going to like a grouch, and that’s pretty terrifying. He wants Midoriya to like him. Needs it to be the case.

But instead of faltering Midoriya’s smile grows, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Lighting up his face at the seams. “Hey, so, do you want to be my friend?” he asks, syllables lifting with buoyancy.

Obviously, the answer is a big yes, and hopefully, hopefully , it’s uttered with a lot more enthusiasm than intended, but it’s hard to tell because Midoriya responds to even the smallest of things with the same amount of verve as he would very important matters. He’s amazing like that, and Shouto doesn’t waste any time telling Yaoyorozu at lunch later on.

She concedes, “Well, I suppose you’re really in love with him, then,” and sneaks a glance at the other table. Peals of laughter sound from across the room. Something funny must have happened; Midoriya is doubling over from what Uraraka has just said.

Shouto stares at Yaoyorozu. Says, “Of course I am,” in his most matter-of-fact voice.

One year passes by, and at this point Shouto has come to know Midoriya and his interests fairly well. Those red hi-tops that he wears all the time, for example, Shouto knows from careful observation are his favourite shoes in the entire world. And it’s easy to tell whenever he has katsudon for lunch because he’ll be the first to get out his lunchbox.

“So you have been talking to him more,” Yaoyorozu says, pleased.

“Yes. I asked him if I could borrow his pencil not once but five times. And in the same week, too,” Shouto says, because he kind of has to make a point.

“Wait, what? That’s it? Huh.” Yaoyorozu raises her eyebrows, smile fading. “Sure sounds like a real step forward.”

“So?” Shouto flicks off the eraser shavings on his desk, and fixes her with an annoyed look. “I mean, he talks a lot, but who cares, I’d much rather listen to him.” He pauses, then breathes out, “Did you know that there was this one time when he told me that my bag was really cool?” A breeze flaps in through the open windows, stirring the curtains. Sighing with him, too.

“Great,” is the reply he gets, but it doesn’t matter because he is going to prove her wrong one of these days.

And prove her wrong he does over the next few months; slowly, surely, in the way waves break out over a sea, Shouto gets closer and closer to Midoriya Izuku. The signs of their growing bond is there in every word, every smile, every glance exchanged between them. Surely Midoriya feels it, too, because, yes, Shouto has started to reach out in any way that he can.

“You’re pretty advanced at reading,” Shouto comments in a hushed voice as they’re reading a book about a cat, a witch, and flying cacti.

There are many things Shouto adores about Midoriya—if he wrote a list about it, he’s pretty sure it would be longer than the Earth is wide—and this one right here just so happens to be one of his favourites: his blush.

When other people blush, their faces get all weird and splotchy, like a splash of gouache paint, but when Midoriya does it, he does it slow, much in the way a sunrise creeps out over the horizon; first, the tips of his ears go red, followed by his cheeks, high colour subtly blossoming into life.

It’s beautiful, really.

“Thanks,” Midoriya whispers back, giving Shouto that lovely dimpled smile, and it’s possible that Shouto’s heart stops beating for a moment. Or two.

“Can you—can you please read this word to me?” Shouto asks, feigning confusion, and Midoriya sidles close to him, happy to oblige.

This close Shouto can feel warmth radiating off of him, and when their hands brush Shouto falls in love with Midoriya Izuku for the second time.

Third grade comes along in a whirl of new faces, new lessons, new teachers. This year Midoriya doesn’t share the same class as he does, but Shouto tries not to feel too disappointed; there’s always lunchtime, recess, and after school. Still plenty of opportunities to hang out.

Except not really; fourth grade introduces annihilation in the form of Bakugou Katsuki, a sharp-eyed, sharp-cornered boy with fire for a voice and steel for fists. It’s easy to tell when he has entered a room, because a hushed, quavering tenseness will slip in, combustible at the edges, and Midoriya will turn rigid, white-knuckled, silent.

Everything he is usually not.

“Useless Deku,” Bakugou might bark out during a game of tag. “It’d sure suck to be as slow as you.” Then Midoriya will murmur, in a small, subdued voice, “That’s mean, Kacchan,” and Bakugou will laugh at him or, worse, push him.

Needless to say, Midoriya leaving school with bandaids and bruises becomes a frequent occurrence.

“Kacchan has always been like that,” Midoriya tells Shouto in a miserable voice one Friday as the bell rings to mark the end of the day. “I just wish he wouldn’t pick on me so much.”

Shouto looks Midoriya right in the eye. Takes Midoriya’s scarred, trembling hands into his. “I’ll kill him,” Shouto promises solemnly, because Midoriya doesn’t deserve this.

Lovely, lovely Midoriya, who talks too much and cries easily and turns inconsolable at any onscreen animal deaths.

Midoriya sputters, aghast. “But—but what if he kills you first?”

“He won’t,” Shouto says, though he’s not a hundred percent sure. Boys like Bakugou were born with violence in their veins, after all. “I’m not going to let him hurt you again.”

“Well, I won’t let you fight him. You can’t die!” His voice lowers to a whisper. “I can’t lose you!”

A pleasant warmth fills Shouto end-to-end, and he decides right there and then that losing isn’t an option. “When we grow up someday, I’m going to marry you, Midoriya,” he says very seriously, as serious as a nine-year-old can be. “So if there’s one person who won’t be walking out the door, it isn’t going to be me.”

With that Shouto takes off, leaving a stunned Midoriya in the dust.

As expected, Bakugou is by the swing-sets in the yard, flanked by his cronies, terrorizing a knobby-kneed third-grader. The king of the playground no longer once Shouto’s through with him, Shouto thinks.

“Hey, Bakugou,” Shouto calls out.

The raucous jeers halt. Bakugou turns around, every inch fire and crushed glass. “Eh? What do you want?” he snaps, releasing the third-grader. The kid bolts, running for the hills. Then, with his eyes narrowed, Bakugou says, “Hold on a minute, you’re dumb Deku’s stupid boyfriend.”

“Guy must have a death wish,” his friend cackles.The others crow in assent.

“The next time you want to fight him, you’ll have to go through me first,” Shouto warns, holding Bakugou’s gaze coolly.

Bakugou steps forward, out of the shade. The sun sets alight the blonde of his hair.

Just like the flame of a matchstick, the fight only lasts for a second, or maybe two. One moment they’re tussling on the ground, and the next a teacher is prying them apart, Midoriya crying in the background.

But Shouto hardly feels it, hardly feels the blow dealt to his chest. I got one in, he thinks a little proudly. On Bakugou’s jaw, no less.

Once back inside the building, the teacher scolds Bakugou and Shouto. No recess for a week is their punishment. A tradeoff worth the blood dripping down Shouto’s nose, Shouto thinks. And the scolding he’ll get from his father later on. What’s a second’s worth of pain compared to the tight embrace Midoriya gives him afterwards, really?

(And just like that they become best friends, not just friends, and, with Midoriya’s head tucked into the crook of Shouto’s shoulder, Shouto falls in love for the third time.)

“Did you know that Neptune has fourteen moons?” Izuku whispers, breaths escaping in puffs of white.

Izuku has a treehouse in his backyard, and right now they’re having a sleepover there. It’s an old thing, made of groaning planks whorled with age and shot through with twisting vines. Shouto normally wouldn’t have been able to stay, but his father is currently on a plane to Beijing and will be gone for two weeks, so his sister eagerly approved of the arrangement.

The moonlight filtering through the gaps creates odd shapes of the makeshift furniture: trees, penguins, castle turrets. Shouto says, “No.” Frankly, he doesn’t care, but he just wants to hear Izuku speak.

Izuku shifts his head, and the lighting makes his freckles glow like fireflies. “Okay. Um, how about the fact that there’s more than one sun in the universe?”

Now that Shouto knows. I’m looking at one right now, Shouto nearly says but doesn’t. Upon further reevaluation he decides that it’s probably not the best comparison because no one likes looking at the sun, anyway, in fear of getting blinded. So there. “Mhm,” he says absently.

Then Izuku’s mom calls them back into the house for cookies and milk, and the warmth that floods Shouto’s body might as well be molten sunlight, with the way all seems soft-hued and golden—the colour of youth. Comfort. Hope.

The first day of junior high brings blue, blue skies, fresh spirits, crisp new clothes, pristine textbooks, and a seemingly auspicious beginning. But it also brings changes, some as subtle as losing your baby fat around the jaw, others gradual like shooting up five inches.

Which is to be expected, naturally; people always become different once they hit seventh grade. It’s when the childish wonder and innocence starts chipping away, after all, like cracks forming on a sidewalk. Like paint flaking off of a wall. It’s when you trade a soft-skinned and vulnerable version of yourself for someone tougher. More jaded. Battle-worn, somehow.

And right there always lies some grim epoch of your life, and Shouto can fully attest to this fact because it’s when Midoriya Izuku falls in love for the first time.

(And gets his heart broken not once or twice, but three times.)

The first heartbreaker is a girl named Rina. All curves and coy smiles and bouncing curls, one look from her could render a room rose-pink and dreamed-out. Render poor, unfortunate souls loose-lipped and far-gone.

(Shouto will never forget how Izuku’s shoulders curled inwards in shame when she crumpled his note in front of a derisive crowd.)

Hideo is the second one, and it had been painful to watch him mass-message their entire grade Izuku’s puppy-eyed reaction towards his “confession.”

The third one is Miki and by far the worst; she and Izuku went out for at least two weeks before Shouto found out that she was stringing along four other boys. Izuku cried into Shouto’s shoulder on an empty stairway that day, and didn’t smile for at least a week afterwards.

Each and every time, without fail, Shouto is always there to pick up the pieces and glue them back together, in whatever ungainly way he can. Maybe it works, or maybe it doesn’t, because the process always feels like putting back together with gloveless hands the jagged fragments of a blown-glass sculpture.

It does hurt, to be honest. And what makes the pain even worse is the realization that Shouto has fallen in love with the same boy for the fourth time, the realization that there is absolutely no goddamn force in this world that can ever break or slow down his fall, Yaoyorozu’s calculations notwithstanding.

In retrospect, junior high is a calm, cloudless fracture in time compared to the storm-grey turbulence that is high school. Ninth grade bleeds into tenth grade in a dizzying blur, and that’s when Shouto’s life enters its next phase, metamorphosis halfway complete.

From here on out, the waters are murky and brackish, frothing at the shoreline like some wild-mouthed beast.

His father, for instance, is just one of the many factors stirring up Shouto’s life . Not a day goes by without the man discussing the future prospects of his company. The importance of continuing their lineage. How he will mold Shouto into a crown jewel, the best of the best, whatever that goddamn means.

With the added homework, after-school activities, and tutoring sessions, Shouto doesn’t have time for a lot of things. Like dealing with half-formed urges that have him breaking out in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, thinking of tan, sweat-slick skin. Woodland-green eyes. Rough, calloused hands. Dimpled smiles.

As a consequence, he and Izuku sort of drift apart. They’ll always be friends, though, Shouto knows as much, but lately he’s felt like there’s been some sort of seismic shift that’s changed the very foundations of their relationship. Torn apart the framework, like slicing loose a ligament.

High school Izuku is different from middle school Izuku. He is quieter, more pensive, less unsure of himself, and a lot less reliant on waterworks for catharsis. It’s the boxing, Shouto thinks, Izuku’s newfound outlet, where he can lose himself among the groans of the punching bags, the crunch of leather, the salty tang of energy.

In the looks department, he’s changed by a fair amount, too. Less round and more sturdy, all broad lines and muscles. The childish sparkle remains, though. A little dimmed by age but still there.

When Shouto was young, he always thought of what it would be like to kiss his best friend. But, now, he’s thinking of something a lot deeper than that.

Girls start paying Shouto a lot more attention, for some reason. It’s not uncommon to find a note stashed in the bowels of his locker, or a number scrawled on his books. But really, he can’t begin to understand why.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Izuku teases him during a warm-up in gym class.

“What is?” It’s hard to look away from the sweat lines running down Izuku’s arms. Neck. Face. Even harder to pry his gaze from is the toned shape of Izuku’s biceps—and the lightly corded vein lines that come along with it.

Izuku tilts his head. Blanks out for a moment, before returning with an answer: “It’s your face.”

The chatter of the other students fades away into white noise. Shouto raises an eyebrow. Go on .

Izuku draws himself up to his full height. Looks at Shouto with an unfathomable emotion swirling in his gaze. “I don’t know if you know this,” he says, freckles deep brown and glowing, “but you’re beautiful, Shouto. So, so beautiful.”

It’s true what happens in movies, Shouto finds out. The way things crawl into a halt, blurring out sounds and backgrounds and more sounds. Because right here, right now, the sunlight has the world suspended in honey. In amber.

Shouto looks away. Looks down at his sneakers. Izuku always says nice things like this about everyone he’s friendly with, he reminds himself firmly. Shouto won’t allow his long-suffering feelings to make a big deal out of the compliment.

But, just like that, Shouto falls hopelessly in love with Izuku all over again.

(It’s getting ridiculous. Honestly.)

“Yo, Midoriya,” Kaminari calls out one lazy afternoon in class. “You coming to my party tonight?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure,” Shouto hears Izuku say a little distractedly.

Kirishima turns around and props his elbows on Izuku’s desk. “Hey, what’s up with you?” he says. “Uraraka, come over here, does he look a little spaced out to you or is it just me?”

Uraraka agrees, “It’s not just you.”

“Seriously, are you thinking of a special someone or what?” Kaminari jokes, ruffling Izuku’s hair.

Shouto freezes. Feels the single earphone plugged inside his ear go limp.

Izuku sighs. “If I tell the truth, will you leave me alone?”

Cheers and clapping ensue in response.

“I am,” Izuku says without any ounce, any trace of levity. “I have been for a long time.”

Everything turns a little greyer and smudged out after that revelation. Shouto doesn’t hesitate to stuff his ears with music, volume cranked up to a level bordering on deafening.

Shouto has his first kiss at Kaminari’s party in the dimness of a stuffy closet, back pressed against a dusty stack of yellowing books, a sonorous bass pounding in his chest—the result of a single, stupid round of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

It’s not so much a kiss as it is an awkward bumping of mouths.

If Shouto really, really focuses, he can pretend that he’s kissing a certain someone with stubbornness for days and an endless supply of laughter to boot. Someone with a slightly crooked half-smile and constellations traced onto his flesh. Someone who can transform all the liquid in Shouto’s body into ever-igniting gasoline—hot, honey-heavy, and steady.

But the scent, the feel, the shape—they’re not right. Instead they’re about twenty shades of wrong, starting from the smoothness of the mystery boy’s skin, and going right down to his cloying bergamot-and-cedar cologne.

It’s a poor distraction, but it beats out chasing pavements by a mile.

“Shouto, wanna come over later?” Izuku asks, jogging to catch up with him.

Shouto shakes his head. “Can’t. Yaoyorozu says I need to touch up on titrations.” Liar.

Izuku’s expression wavers. “Oh. I’ll ... um, see you, then.”

Shouto nods. Tugs on his bangs.

Things only get busier and busier, and Shouto discovers just how easy it is to make up excuses. He packs his schedule with tests, assignments, activities, leaving no crevice, no crack unfilled. There are always things to do, a shitty father to put up with, and biological necessities to manage.

So a fallout happens, but Shouto does not acknowledge it until it becomes bitter residue in his mind, the melted wax of a candle left unattended.

Occasionally they’ll pass each other in the hallways and exchange small greetings. Part of Shouto screams at him to initiate reconciliation, to fix whatever has broken between them. Nothing is unfixable if you put your mind to it. But instead Shouto leaves the line drawn out, fraying throughout and untouched.

The images of his smiles burned onto Shouto’s eyelids stretch it out even further.

It’s always a bad sign when a warm memory now leaves you cold.

Sad to say, this goes on for the next few years of high school. Until the very last day, with tearful goodbyes and bawling mothers and proud fathers and excited siblings milling in the background.

Shouto has never been one for sentimentality, but an odd sense of loss settles into his pores once the final verses of the farewell song dwindle into a low, quavering melody.

For a moment he thinks of the place he’d carved out for himself among his peers, the camaraderie established by proximity and fostered by necessity. He thinks of Yaoyorozu and her neverending repertoire of scientific facts, her ocean-deep well of intelligence (It would do him well to thank her for sticking with him throughout the years). Then of Iida, Kirishima, Jirou, Uraraka, Kaminari, and the rest of his classmates. Even of Bakugou, strangely enough.

But most of all, he thinks of the boy who had blazed into his life that one spring day all those years ago. The boy who had snatched away Shouto’s entire heart and left nothing behind. The boy who is always, always, always there in Shouto’s dreams. The boy Shouto has loved for so, so long.

Shouto will sure miss all of them. Especially him. Because in about a week’s time a plane will carry Shouto into a foreign city where a brand new life at a posh university awaits, as per his father’s ungracious demands. Where everything, from the cobblestone streets to ivory basilicas, reeks of unfamiliarity, where he will be forced to relearn a new rhythm, a new dance—an utterly draining task.

Then there’s a tug on his sleeve, two fingers pinched at the cuff. “Hey.” A pair of warm green eyes and a disarming smile greet him.

A mild case of vertigo sets in. “Hi,” Shouto gets out, chest constricting.

Izuku cocks his head towards the doors, eyebrows lifting. “Have a minute?” Does he even need to ask? Shouto follows him outside, where the sky is dark and the moon in full bloom.

“Remember the wishing game we used to play as kids, Shouto?” Izuku asks as they settle down on the grass, far away from the music and the energy and the people.

Shouto says, with no small amount of fondness, “I may be old, but I’m not that old.”

Izuku grins and in that instant the chasm between them fully seals, like high school never happened and their feelings never got in the way of what they had. And suddenly Shouto fully remembers how Izuku has always made him feel complete, like he’s every beautiful thing in the world captured by a single lithe stroke, in the form of a boy with snow-pale skin and odd mismatching eyes.

The stars wink down at them as the wishing game commences. A breeze sweeps by, bending the grass like ripples in a field of wheat and swallowing their whispers, their breaths. They might as well be children again, lost in a kingdom of their own creation with thoughts and ideas too big for their souls.

“Do you think I could have all the moons in the sky?” Izuku says.

Shouto’s lips twitch. “You’ve always been unrealistic.”

“How about all the seas on Earth?”

“Seriously?”

“Okay, jeez. What about the mountains, or the rivers?”

“Let’s go with one thing.”

There’s a pause and a sigh. “The sun?”

Shouto watches Izuku, something flashing in Izuku’s eyes. Serenity. Joy. And beneath that … “Good luck with getting burnt to a crisp,” he says.

Izuku shifts closer to him. Suddenly Shouto can barely hear the rustling, the whispering of the wind. Then: “Can I have you?”

Love, the answer makes itself known in the shine of Izuku’s eyes, the softness of his smile. Shouto nearly stops breathing, nearly breaks down. Instead he leans in and kisses Izuku—the boy of his dreams. The boy he’s wanted right from the very start.

“You’ve always had me,” Shouto whispers into his mouth, burning with starlight.

Izuku’s hands are warm against his wrists. They pull apart for a moment, and Izuku says, hoarsely, “I’m an absolute idiot, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Actually, you’re eleven years too late,” Shouto says. “Didn’t I promise you that I’d marry you one day?”

Izuku laughs, and Shouto kisses him again, bearing him down on the grass. Shouto’s heart is a supernova in the making, expanding with every fiery trace of Izuku’s fingers along Shouto’s chest, back, spine. Seconds, minutes, hours pass them by, and Shouto is sorry. Sorry that it can’t last the way it would have had they only had more time.

Later, when they’re lying down, fingers interlaced, limbs tangled, Shouto says to Izuku, “You know I’m leaving, right?”

Izuku tilts his head, nose grazing Shouto’s neck. “I know.”

Stars spin high over their heads, but just like the passage of time they stop for no one.

“i dont care though,” Izuku continues, sleepily, “because I’d wait five, ten, fifteen for you, and then more.” His lips chase Shouto’s jaw. “I really, really would.”

“Is that a promise I hear?”

“Don’t you know it.”

They link pinkies, and, under the glow of a full moon, Todoroki Shouto falls in love with Midoriya Izuku for the sixth time.

#i figured i should just post this thing here too #i wanna write more things #im free now thankfully tho #tododeku #tddk au series #me: what if we wrote the lifeguard au thing #ok nvr mind

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themousai · 5 years

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Q+A: LAULIA

Your new single ‘13/7’ just got released ahead of ‘Outcast Kids’ which luckily, we only have to wait until this Friday to hear when it’s officially available as a double A side vinyl through Rose Coloured Records. How are you feeling about having these songs out in the world? We couldn’t be more excited really. 13/7 was the first track that for us snowballed very quickly, Ollie sent me over a demo and I was instantly inspired, I finished writing my part that evening and ever since then we’ve been raring to get it out. If it were that simple, we would have released it that day if we could. We just wanted people to hear it. So now, having been sat on these tracks for a while whilst we organised promo, videos etc, it’s been like dangling sweets in front of a kid and telling them not to eat it. It’s been hard to keep things all to ourselves, so finally releasing the single is gonna definitely be a buzz for sure.

What made you put ‘13/7’ out first? 13/7 isn’t actually officially out yet, we just released it on Soundcloud for people to get a sneak preview of whats to come. This is purely because for us, we felt the music speaks for itself, and by giving people a preview of it, we hoped that that’d be all they’d need to feel the same excitement we do. It’s a powerful song, and I just think it says it all really. I don’t think we wanted any gimmicks or PR stunts, it was more just about sharing a track that we were insanely proud of and hoping that listeners would connect to it, and want to be a part of the release.

Do the two tracks have a similar idea or story behind them? Both tracks are about toxic relationships, but coming from very different angles. 13/7 is about monotony and habit within our relationships. We often feel it’s our responsibility to take care of the people we care about, but sometimes their self-destructive, co-dependent habits can really take a toll on our lives. 13/7 is about coming to terms with the fact that it is not our job to try and fix somebody who isn’t interested in fixing themselves, and that sometimes we must accept that taking care of ourselves is more important. This may mean stepping back or walking away from a relationship that we care about, but at times this is the best decision we could make for ourselves. / Outcast Kids relates to this, it’s a narrative about a very self-destructive & codependent relationship. The bond these 2 people share is extremely honest, and pure. The pair are inseparable, bound by their flaws. They both have extremely self destructive tendencies, but find comfort in knowing that the other is doing the same. It almost gives them reassurance and helps them justify the negative choices they are making. Essentially, the relationship is doomed with this dynamic as they are constantly feeding off each other, but being the destructive people they are - that’s what they love about it.

What do you hope people feel when listening to these new songs? For me, music is about connection. These tracks are an expression of how we feel, musically and lyrically, and so however people choose to see themselves in these songs is up to them. If they connect with the stories and the lyrics, or just vibe with the music and wanna jam out with us, that’s all we want. For people to connect and feel whatever they choose to. Music is so subjective, and people enjoy listening to music in different ways. We don’t want anyone to feel 1 particular thing, but to feel a part of something and see themselves in what we’re creating. Our listeners are as much of a part of our music as we are. Having signed to Rose Coloured Records for the release of the Double A Side Vinyl, can you tell us a little about how this experience has gone compared to when you independently released your ‘Burning Out’ 7″ earlier this year? Andy from Rose Coloured Records has always been a good friend, and supporter of the band. We love what he’s doing for new bands/artists and always wanted to work together with him on a release. Joining forces to make 13/7 / Outcast Kids a reality felt like the right step forwards for us, we love working with new people and this whole experience has been something totally different from what we’re used to. It’s nice to have some guidance, and whilst we’ve still maintained control of our creative output, having some support with the PR, planning and distribution side of things has made a huge difference. We’re all extremely grateful to Andy for his hard work and support, as a genuine music fan, his intentions are nothing but what you’d want from a label. We’re lucky to have him on our side.

Do you write more often from a third person perspective or from personal experience? Why do you think you lean more towards one than the other? I don’t usually write with an intention, my writing is almost always an expression of my emotions. I often feel a certain way, or have experienced something that’s left a sour taste, and writing is my way of processing and dealing with it. There’s nothing more therapeutic than shouting about how you feel from the top of your lungs, or turning pain into something beautiful. There are times though, when my mind goes into overdrive, and I get inspiration purely from my imagination. Stories, ideas or things I have witnessed turn into narratives and I love running with those ideas, but I would never confine myself to writing a particular way or about a certain topic, it’s an expression and I think containing that achieves the exact opposite of what it’s meant to.

What are your musical influences like? Do you each bring very different ideas to the table when writing or are you quite similar in this aspect? We all take inspiration from different music, having been shaped by different bands/artists as we’ve developed our personal love for music, this is why our songwriting process is so interesting - we draw inspiration from different genres and styles and sorta merge it to create our own. Of course we have mutual loves, and our inspirations cross over a lot (I mean, that’s why we’re in a band together), but we’re all very individual in what drives us, and that’s where I think our sound comes from.

You were included in Blood Records ‘Girls Against’ compilation last year in the great company of Courtney Barnett, Dream Wife, PINS and many more - how did you feel when you found out about that? Do you think it helped put your music out to a wider range of listeners? It was crazy, especially since the opportunity came to us so early on, we’d barely been a band for longer than a few months so it was very surreal. Being a part of a record alongside bands/artists that we all admired was like a massive wake up call, it sorta gave us an insight into what we could achieve with this band and the potential that it had. Knowing that our music could exist alongside names like that, I think was the catalyst for us, we just wanted to go full speed ahead from that point on. It also sorta laid some groundwork for us, we were introduced to fans of the exact kind of music we were looking to produce, whilst supporting a cause that we so heavily believed in, so yeah it was a total blessing - we couldn’t be more grateful.

Ahead of your release show in London, what should we be expecting from your live set? Performing live is easily my favourite part about being in this band. The stage is our home, and we feel comfiest up there. It gives us the chance to fully immerse ourselves in what we’re creating, and there’s no other feeling like it. Our set is filled with highs and lows, expect ethereal moments of emptiness, followed by immense soundscapes, grungy riffs and lots of throwing ourselves about & hair flicking haha.

Lastly, what does LAULIA have in the works for the future? The coming months are gonna be pretty crazy for us I think. Once we’ve come out the other end of celebrating this release, we wanna get straight onto working towards another record. The next step for us is putting out an EP, we’d love something that really introduces us to the world and shows everyone what we’re really about as a band. We’re still very new and we’re still kind of shaking the hands of everyone at the moment. The next coming months I think we really want to start breaking the ice within the industry, and with our supporters as well. We want people to know who we are and what were about, and feel a part of that. So plenty of shows, tours, and connecting with people is what we want to work towards. That and getting an EP out are our main focuses. Oh, and Glastonbury of course.

Stream 13/7 / Outcast Kids on Spotify and Apple Music now and be sure to purchase the Double A Side 7″ Vinyl here!

Quick Fire:

The one song I wish I wrote is... Lauren: Hmmm, either ‘Formidable Cool’ by Wolf Alice or ‘No Care’ by Daughter. Ollie: ‘She Changes The Weather’ by Swim Deep. Harry: ‘Jet’ by Wings. Kurt: ‘Electric Feel’ by MGMT.

Three things I can’t live without are... Lauren: Yoga, laughter, and obviously hummus with pitta. Ollie: Garlic, Electroharmonix Memory Man & Rome total war. Kurt: Lucky charms, Dr Pepper, Drums. Harry: Ginger tea, Labradors, Sports Socks.

Phones out, or phones away if you're watching a band live... Lauren: Phones away always, gotta live in the moment. Harry & Kurt: Ditto. Ollie: Depends if they’re good or not.

Three adjectives that describe my life are... Lauren: Hectic, Fulfilling, Vibrant. Ollie: Umami, Comfortable & Accelerating. Harry: Cosy, Wholesome, Exciting. Kurt: Organised, Busy & Energetic.

If I held a world record it would be for... Lauren: Fastest person to finish a bottle of wine. Ollie: Most words incorrectly spelled in a single message. Harry: Most unimpressed facial expressions made in one day. Kurt: Longest time to answer a quick fire question.. Still waiting.

My first memory of loving music is... Lauren: Dancing to MTV as a 2/3 year old and stealing every dance floor I could no matter where my parents took me. Ollie: Playing ‘Parklife’ on repeat whilst bouncing on my sisters bed at the age of 5. Harry: Listening to style council records in my uncle’s kitchen. Kurt: Trying to play along to the radio on my dads suitcase with sticks that I found.

The song of mine that I am the proudest of is… Lauren: Bloody Knees or 13/7, both for very different reasons. Ollie: Wide Eyes. Harry: Gloe. Kurt: The Collectors.

My favourite venue I've ever played is… Lauren: The Facebar in Reading. Ollie: BLove because I loved playing a huge stage, and my mum came along. Kurt: The Boileroom. Harry: The New Cross Inn.

The ideal environment for me to create music in is… Lauren: Whilst I would love it to be on a scenic beach or waterfall somewhere, it tends to be alone in my bedroom. Kurt: My home studio. Harry: My shed. Ollie: With my pedal board and people I trust.

If I could tour with any two bands, they would be… Lauren: Idles (easily my favourite band to see live), and Cherry Glazerr. Ollie: Pulled Apart by Horses and S club 7. Harry: Gurr and Queens of The Stone Age. Kurt: Marmozets and Foals.

Follow LAULIA on Social Media!

FACEBOOK | SPOTIFY | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM

Interview by Scarlett Dellow, photo by Fraser H-N

#laulia #indie #shoegaze #ffo turnover #ffo wolf alice #interviews #new music #dellow #alt rock #alternative

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eldoraldos-blog · 7 years

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Redamancy

Genre: Reluctant soulmate!au, angst, fluff.

Summary: After years of only seeing black and white, you finally meet Kyungsoo, your soulmate who brings colour into your life. You want him, but does he want you?

A/N: This is my first request! It’s kind of awful, but I hope I improve. Enjoy! :)

Redamancy (n) a love returned in full.

I closed my eyes. I desperately wished, that when I opened them, colour would scatter the world that I looked upon. But it was just that. A wish. Reopening my eyes, I sighed at the dull black and white that filled my vision. I longed to see the colours a few of my friends and family had told me of. Yellow flowers, green grass, blue sky, red cars. It sounded beautiful, and I had yet to experience it.

My shoulders slumped in defeat as my friend, Sehun, bellowed at me to keep up. I scurried after him, listening to him talk on and on about his lovely soulmate, whom he had met last year when he went for a stroll in the park. I had gone for many strolls in the park, yet I hadn’t met the person I was supposed to love yet. You see, when you meet the person you love, beautiful colours surround you. Your world instantly goes from the gloomy black and white, to a colourful mess. That’s what I craved most. To love, be loved and witness the beautiful colours. When Sehun found his, he was over the moon. He rambled all about the world and how it looked much better, and how he loved his soulmate to the moon and back. He would only stop when he seen the glum expression on your face. It’s not that you weren’t happy for him, your happiness was just acquainted with envy.

“It’s our one year coming up in a few weeks and I want everything to go spectacular. I have the night planned, but I must choose what to wear. What shirt do you recommend?”

“They’ll all just look black and white to me, Sehun. But honestly, if it’s going to be dressy, I know that white shirts are probably the best to go with.”

“You don’t need to see colour to tell me which design is the nicest. I’ll just tell you what colour the shirt and design is,” he commented. “I’ve thought this over.”

“Clearly not enough. Are you forgetting that I’ve never seen a colour before? It’ll be pointless telling me, you absolute birdbrain, Oh Sehun.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “I didn’t actually think of that. My sincerest apologies, best friend. I’ll just go with a white one. Now, onwards we go! I’m starving.”

We arrived at a small café, and ordered our food. While Sehun ordered a plate of food, I just went with a small coffee to waken myself up, seeing as Sehun dragged me out of bed at 8am, to bring me into town to help with an anniversary gift for his lover.

This was the best and worst thing Sehun had done.

You silently sipped your coffee, listening to Sehun mumble on about different things, and watched as he snapped pictures of his food and coffee. This was how your friendship worked. You were always the quiet, reserved, introverted type whereas he was talkative, sometimes loud and done most of the talking. When you finished your coffee, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. Standing up, Sehun was mumbling more things to you, telling you he would be finished soon and your next destination would be a new store that sold music – his friend owned the store and he wanted to try it out. You were so busy trying to listen to Sehun and walk at the same time, you didn’t notice the two boys in a hurry to get to the counter so you crashed into one of them.

“Oh,” you muttered once your body collided with one of the men. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and…”

You trailed off once you looked up, suddenly captivated by the man in front of you. Perhaps it was the fast beating of your heart, or the fact that you thought you could hear his heart beating just as he could hear yours, or maybe it was the calm feeling you felt as soon as you had touched, despite the fast beating of your heart. Although you knew this was the man you were supposed to love, as when you glanced up you were not met with the typical black and white, but instead a splash of colour all around you.

You wanted to look around and witness it all, you really did, but your eyes couldn’t leave the eyes of the boy in front of you. They were beautiful. They were so round, and the colour was captivating. You wanted to know if they were blue, or green, or brown. If you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to know everything about the man you just bumped into. After what felt like at least five minutes, he finally cleared his throat and began to speak, and his voice was simply beautiful.

“Sorry, we were, um, walking too fast. We should have realised it was too crowded in hear to walk at such a speed,” He paused and jabbed his thumb towards his friend who was behind him, watching you both with a raised eyebrow. “My friend, Chanyeol and I have to get back to work soon so we were in a hurry.”

“It’s okay,” Your voice sounded slightly hoarse, or strained, so like he did before you, you cleared your own throat. You offered a small smile before continuing, “I should have been paying attention.”

“Yeah. Okay, well sorry again. We’ll just get going- “

“I’m sorry but,” You reached out and wrapped your hand around his arm and you could feel him stiffen under your touch. “Did you feel that too? Can you see what I see?”

You lowered your voice for the last part of the question, and your eyes searched his. You saw guilt and hesitation flash across his eyes, and that’s how you knew the next thing that through his lips was a lie.

“No. I didn’t feel anything.”

“But you can see colour now? Can’t you?”

Hesitating again he replied, “Yes. I can. Look, there must be a mistake. We aren’t soulmates. I didn’t feel anything, maybe something went wrong. I’m sorry but I need to go. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to see colour, but this is a mistake. Goodbye.”

“Kyungsoo, I have our coffee. Let’s go.” His tall friend’s deep voice cut through the air making you look at him. He had a sorrow in his eyes as he looked at you, before turning away with the man whose name was Kyungsoo.

The name Kyungsoo made your heart hurt, and it took you a few minutes to process what had just happened. You had just been rejected by the man you were supposed to spend your life with.

___________

You didn’t see Kyungsoo for another week after the accident. After it happened, Sehun had claimed he witnessed the whole thing, and after calling him an asshole, he had demanded you both go home to curl up on the sofa of your apartment and watch re-runs of We Got Married. You only left your apartment to go down to the store, feeling utterly broken and upset. You had often wondered if he felt the same way, before you snapped out of it and realised that he had been the one to reject you, so of course he didn’t feel the same way.

“Okay. That’s enough moping around, let’s go out. I still need to find a gift and you need to go further than the corner store. There are plenty of people in this world who don’t have a soulmate, and of the billions of people in this world, you aren’t letting an asshole whom you met 40 minutes down the street, stop you from meeting another lovely person.” Sehun threw you clothes, moving his hands in a movement that told you to ‘put them on.’ So, you did.

Sehun had helped you a lot within the last week, especially with your new-found colours. At least you had a colourful world now, so you could see what you had been missing out on. Sehun told you all the colours, so you were pretty sure you knew each of them now. Including the brilliant shade of brown that were Kyungsoo’s eyes.

You and Sehun wondered down town into the music store which his friend owned, after collecting a few gifts from other stores and he insisted this was the last stop. You were rather tired by now and wanted to go home. As you got to the door of the store, your heart started to race and you instantly knew why. Sehun pushed open the door and standing in front of the cash register, was Kyungsoo.

Sehun hadn’t noticed him yet, and began to walk around the different aisles looking at the different music collections that they had to offer. You noticed Kyungsoo’s lanky friend, whose name you couldn’t remember, who was staring at you both, before nudging Kyungsoo. He looked up to shoot his friend an annoyed look, and followed his gaze to where his eyes landed on me. Not long after, Sehun had soon caught on that Kyungsoo had worked here and asked if you wanted to leave, but you had brushed it off, stating you couldn’t hide from him forever, seeing as you both live in similar areas. Sehun finally chose an album and you made your way to the front of the store, meeting Kyungsoo’s eyes, which haven’t left your figure since he noticed you.

“Oh,” he started, in a dull tone. “It’s you.”

Your heart panged slightly at his tone, but you looked away from his gaze and muttered, “It’s me.”

He took the album off Sehun and began to put it through the register. You looked back at him to get a proper look at the rest of his features, such as his large, heart shaped lips, his cute plump nose and his short, messy black hair on his head. He was handsome. Had he rejected you because you weren’t enough for him? Were you too plain? You felt tears meet your water line

but you blinked them away when a voice called out Sehun’s name.

“Ah, Sehun! It’s great to see you again!” A tall man with slightly gelled hair walked out and greeted Sehun, giving him a short hug. Sehun introduced the man as Yixing, who was Chinese. Yixing then proceeded to pull you into a quick hug.

“When I moved here to teach dancing, Sehun was once of my best students. He’s very talented. Oh! By the way, this is two workers of mine, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol’s deep voice boomed a loud hello in return, whereas Kyungsoo gave a slight nod. You noticed Sehun shooting him a small glare, but Kyungsoo wasn’t looking at him. Your heart was going crazy under his gaze and you wanted to slap him, but also reach forward and grab him into a tight hug and never let him go.

Yixing broke your gaze with him by throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you thought you seen somewhat of a glare from Kyungsoo at his boss, but you dismissed it.

“So, do you have a job?”

“Uh,” you pursed your lips and told him the truth. “I did, but I left two weeks ago. It wasn’t the best place to work. I’ve started looking around though, for another.” “Great! Today’s your lucky day, then. You start tomorrow, say 8am?”

“What?”

You, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol and Sehun had all spoken at the same time. You, Chanyeol and Sehun speaking with shock, and Kyungsoo’s coming out a little harsher.

“I’ve been needing extra staff since the store has been getting more popular. So, this is perfect, you get a job and I get an employee! Now, I must be off. I hope you’ll take the job, it’s a great place and I promise I’m not bad to work for.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to work in a little old music store surrounded by boys. I think the mall was hiring, in one of those food shops. She could try there,” The voice you dreaded – but loved – to hear cut Yixing off before he had the chance to leave.

“Actually,” Your voice wobbled as you spoke, but you tilted your head in Yixing’s direction and finished with confidence. “I’ll take the job. Tomorrow, 8am.”

And with a cheer, a glare and two looks of shock, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into.

And so, you began, working at the store. You enjoyed it, and you soon managed to ignore the fluttering and the panging in your heart because of Kyungsoo. He wasn’t so welcoming, giving you occasional glares, sending you out on rainy days to fetch coffee, or yelling at you for knocking over his newly made music stand. You became fast friends with Chanyeol, who was welcoming and had a great sense of humour, never failing to make you laugh. You had only been working there for a few weeks, but you loved it and Yixing was great to work for.

“Have you seen Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo startled you, making you drop the few posters you were holding as he rounded the corner.

“He decided to do the coffee run today, to stretch his legs.”

“You’re so clumsy,” he said harshly, picking up the few posters and thrusting them at you.” I’m surprised no one has complained yet about a broken record. I’m nearly sure you’ve dropped everything in here.”

“Well, if someone would stop sneaking up on me every day, maybe I wouldn’t drop them.”

“Walking up to you and talking is hardly sneaking up on you.”

“You come so quietly! How am I supposed to hear you when you walk more silently than a damn turtle!”

“Maybe you need to get your hearing checked out because I don’t walk that quietly! You’re the only person who jumps when I speak to you! Maybe if you weren’t always lost in thought.”

At this rate, you were both standing pretty close to each other, with glares directed at the other person, when Chanyeol walked in.

“Interrupting something, am I?”

“No,” Kyungsoo said taking a step back. “You’re interrupting absolutely nothing. It’s about time you’re back.”

And with that, you both went about your day as you always did. It was near closing time when you heard Chanyeol and Kyungsoo talking, and what you heard made your heart shatter.

“Kyungsoo, what time is your date with Haewon anyway? Isn’t it like, your one month anniversary?”

Not wanting to hear the rest, you walked up to them with your head held high and told them you were finished, and were going to head home. Looking at Kyungsoo, you felt tears building up and you saw a flash of guilt cross his eyes before he turned away. You were dismissed.

What you hadn’t heard or seen, was Kyungsoo swatting Chanyeol with his hand. No matter what Kyungsoo did, he couldn’t get you out of his head. You were his soulmate, and despite how hard he tried, he knew he was falling more and more in love with you, even if all you did was argue.

You managed to keep your tears in until you reached your apartment. It was still early in the evening, but you felt exhausted so you headed straight into your bed, where you let silent tears fall down your cheeks, falling asleep late into the night.

Your head and eyes hurt the next day when you got up for work. You slept through your alarm and when you got out to your car, it wouldn’t start. You ended up catching a bus to work, and you were 20 minutes late. Yixing didn’t mind though, as you told him what had happened with your car.

“It happens,” He stated. “It’s been pretty quiet this morning anyway. Are you okay by the way? Your eyes look a little…”

“I’m fine, thanks. Allergies.”

With that, he left. You had successfully managed to ignore Kyungsoo for most the day, your heart still feeling sad from overhearing what his plans were last night. Was she prettier than you? Is that why he didn’t want you?

“Let me help you, with putting out the albums,” Kyungsoo cut your train of thought, and you felt heat rushing to your face as you silently nodded. You could feel his gaze on you as you both worked but you kept your eyes in front of you. “You look tired,” He began.

“I am tired.”

“Did you sleep late last night? Is that why you were late this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Chanyeol isn’t coming in today. He went out last night and drank too much,” He chuckled at his sentence. Your heart warmed at the sound, you almost smiled but you didn’t. “It’s just me and you.”

You nodded.

The rest of the day went like this, Kyungsoo being unusually sweet and making small conversation whilst you kept quiet and worked. You couldn’t wait to leave, as you were exhausted and Sehun was coming over tomorrow with his soulmate, and knowing him, it would probably be early.

Finally, the end of the day came and Kyungsoo said he would lock up, and you could head on home if you wanted. There were no more buses now, so you made your way to the side of the footpath to cross the road to walk home. However, you were so tired that you went to cross the road and barely noticed the car coming in your direction, however before it hit you, you heard Kyungsoo calling your name before his hand was pulling you into his chest, away from the road.

Your eyes widened once you realised how stupid you had just been, and if it weren’t for Kyungsoo, who knows what would have happened.

“Are you stupid? Oh, my god, you walked straight out in front of that car, what the hell. Do you want to die? Never, ever scare me like that again.”

Instead of saying anything, you hugged Kyungsoo tightly, which he gladly returned. You were still shocked but you managed to speak.

“Y-you saved me, Kyungsoo. I’m sorry, and thank you. That was so stupid, I don’t even…” Your voice trailed off and Kyungsoo hugged you even tighter and pressed his lips to your head.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled.

“Why are you sorry?”

“For hurting you. You know… when we first met.” You stayed silent and let him continue. “It’s just, we walked into each other and I lied, I did feel it. I felt that spark, my heart was racing and there was so much colour. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. Your eyes… they were amazing. But I had met another woman, I thought I loved her. So, I rejected you, I lied and left. We met again and my heart, it felt like it was going to explode. I loved hearing you talk, looking at you, I just wanted to be around you. When I was with the other woman, my mind kept drifting back to you. I wanted to get to know you, I wanted to be with you instead of her. I broke things off with her last night. I couldn’t do it anymore, you’re the one I want. You’re my soulmate, not her. I’m falling in love with you, and until now I’ve just been so stupid, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Kyungsoo….”

“I don’t expect you to straight away. Can we just... start over?”

After silence, you looked into his beautiful eyes, before saying, “I would like that. Very much.”

“Hello,” He grinned, holding you out at arm’s length. “My name is Kyungsoo, and I believe you’re my soulmate.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Kyungsoo. I’m Y/N. Did you feel that too? I think I felt a spark.”

“I definitely felt it. Now, how about I walk you home? We can get to know each other and maybe fall in love? Shall we see where this journey takes us?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Then, what are we waiting for?”

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sagara-megumi · 7 years

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SasuSaku Month - Day 9: On Opposite Sides || [Fanfic] Playing Games

Title: Playing Games

Rating: K/G

Notes: Sorry for the new delay, I’m trying to catch up but this week I’ve been really busy. I hope to do it during the weekend. Let’s see... This one is quite light compared to the drama in prompt 8. Enjoy! ^^

Words: 2670

Glossary:

karuta: a Japanese game of cards. It’s very interesting to watch, so if you have time, you can check Youtube, there are plenty of videos

Akamon (Gate): one of the doors of the University of Tokyo (Todai). It’s really old and beautiful. here’s a link if you want to see it: http://www.u-tokyo.ac.jp/en/whyutokyo/hongo_hi_007.html

tokonoma: a built-in recessed space in a Japanese style reception room, in which items for artistic appreciation are displayed.

tatami: traditional Japanese floor

PLAYING GAMES

Leaning on the door frame of the office, Uchiha Itachi smiled softly as he watched his little brother. Sasuke had some documents in his hand that he obviously had been revising and the smartphone on the other. And the smile that appeared on his face upon seeing whatever was on the screen was one he had not seen in a long time. He left it on the table again and typed something on his laptop, not realising he was there. However, Itachi could see that his shoulders were a bit more relaxed than some seconds before, and that he seemed to have renewed strength.

He had been admired at the dedication that Sasuke had demonstrated during the last weeks. Sometimes, he felt guilty about him inheriting everything in the clan: their hopes, their wealth and their patrimony. Sasuke would always be the second son, in his shadow since the moment of his birth and with a difficult position: he was not as important as Itachi so he was less valued, but also, he had to carry on his shoulders the responsibilities of the name and meet the expectations of everybody while being compared to his brilliant older brother. He had to give them his life without receiving the praises he deserved, just because it was his duty to the clan and the future head of the family.

He had been one of the few against arranging a marriage for him. Sasuke was only twenty-four and had been most of his life dedicated to his studies and the company, to please the elders. He still had so much to see and experience. Their mother thought the same, but they had been pressuring her till she had given in and had started to try to match her younger son to a fine young lady who could bring even more honour to the name of one of the oldest and most powerful families in the country. He had been glad when he had seen him reject one candidate after the other alleging stupid excuses. However, he did not know why, he had accepted the last one. And though thinking that finally the family had realised his plan and had compelled him to it, he had seen a new gleam in his Sasuke's eyes, one that told him that something was different regarding that girl. Had it been love at first? He doubted it. His brother was too rational to fall for someone just seeing a picture. But...

Sasuke lifted his face and saw his brother on the threshold, watching him, and frowned. It was one of Itachi's habits that irked him the most.

“You should have told me you were there.”

His older brother laughed lightly and walked into the office.

“I suppose so... But sometimes, I like to watch you.”

His only reply was an annoyed expression, and then, he went back to his report. The older man sat down on one of the big comfortable chairs opposite his brother. He crossed his legs and put his elbow on the armrest, leaning his chin on his hand. After a few seconds, Sasuke furrowed his brows and looked up again.

“What now?”

“Was that her?” Sasuke seemed puzzled for a moment, but then, he lifted an eyebrow, questioning him in silence. “You've just received a message.”

He regarded him with a neutral expression.

“How long have you been there?”

He pressed his lips, irritated. Itachi was one of the very few people that could get on his nerves since he was a child. Even though his first memories of them together were warm and happy, with Itachi watching protectively over him, as soon as he had reached an age where he wanted to be with boys of his age, he promised once and again to play with him but he never fulfilled it.

A mischievous glint sparked in Itachi's black eyes as he uncrossed his legs. Suddenly, in a swift movement, he leant over, picking up the smartphone before Sasuke could do anything.

“Brother, give it back” he had stood up and extended his hand, asking impatiently for the device.

“A university karuta exhibition tournament... Oh, and she's participating...” he gave him back his phone and smiled. “You should go.”

“I can't” Sasuke replied, putting his smartphone inside a drawer on his left, a much safer place, and trying to regain his composure as he sat down. “That day we have a meeting with AH Enterprise and a business lunch appointment with the manager from MK Industries.”

“You know, it's been a bit more than a month and a half since you two were introduced and you've only had one date...”

'Not even that' he thought, thinking about the call he had received before inviting her for lunch after the exhibition.

“Thank our 'dear' uncle for that.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Sasuke remembered the hotel where they had met by chance, the ill feelings, her hurt eyes... and a promise to take her to the restaurant they had not been able to go the last time. He still felt bad about the words he had said to her. Alone in his flat that night, he had realised that it was a miracle that they were still... 'something'. He had risked losing her for a stupid reason and even though it that situation had taught him one or two things, he knew that if he had the opportunity to go back in time, he would not do it again.

“A week ago, at the TY hotel by chance” Itachi tilted his head, puzzled. “When I went to the meeting with KT Investments. She was there, in the opening ceremony of a Medical Symposium.”

“Hum” at that moment, Itachi's phone started ringing and he looked at the screen, forgetting whatever he was going to say.

He stood up from the chair and made his way to the door of the office with a small smile to Sasuke. But before going away, he turned and pointed at him with a finger.

“Go. I'll talk to father about the lunch. Maybe you'll be able to skip it.”

. And Itachi always managed to have his way.

Sasuke stopped at the Akamon Gate and looked around, feeling out of place with his expensive suit and collected presence. Around him, people who clearly belonged to that place went in and out of the great door or chatted excitedly in small groups nearby. He looked at his watch. The tournament had started more than three hours ago, and he did not even know if she was still among the participants, or if it had already finished.

He went through the antique red door and looked around. The place was enormous, and he did not know where to start looking for the place she had told him when he had messaged her saying that there was a very small chance that he could go to see her. The best thing he could do was ask for directions, so he approached a group of students a few metres ahead.

“Excuse me” he called, and when they turned, the girl nearest him eyed him appreciatively and he felt the need to sigh tiredly. “Could you tell me where the karuta tournament is being held, please?”

Those words seemed to cool the girl's feelings, maybe thinking he had the taste of an old man. Another gave him directions, pointing at the end of the path he had ahead of him. With a light bow, he thanked them and went on his way.

“What a pity” he heard the woman say. “So hot and with such boring tastes...”

He rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, he arrived at a small building where some students wearing credentials over their jackets were talking. He bought a ticket under their perplexed looks.

“Excuse me, but...” a young man told him. “... the tournament is almost in the final...”

“I suppose so” he replied. “I've just come to see someone.”

“I knew it” he heard one girl whisper to another. “He's taken... Lucky woman...”

He sighed. Did female students really study in that place?

He entered and left his shoes in a small locker. Taking his coat off, he went to the main room at the back, where the students had told him he could find the participants.

The sliding doors were open and he entered with utmost care to avoid disturbing the deep silence that there was in the place. He found a place to sit and kneeled there, watching the participants. It was easy to spot her since there were only four people in the centre of the room. Sakura was a few metres away from his position. She was wearing a pink kimono with small white flowers scattered along the sleeves and one shoulder, and a forest green hakama, and her hair tied in a bun at the top of her head.. Her posture was proud as she leant over her cards, ready to take them before her opponent. She had just a few left on her territory while the man opposite her had quite a lot yet. In a few minutes, she had won. The other game still lasted a bit more, and she waited patiently, with her hands on her lap, graceful like a statue.

Sasuke studied her serene profile. It was difficult not to admire her beauty. It was true that she was not an outstanding woman, like many entrepreneurs’ daughters, models and actresses who spend part of their time taking care of their physical assessments, but she possessed a unique charm in her soft features, eyes whose shade of green changed according to the light and her feelings, from the colour of the new leaves of a bamboo tree to that of the emeralds under the sunlight, and a natural elegance, noticeable in each gesture, that hid her strength of body and spirit. And those were only her visible qualities.

The final started after some minutes of rest for the two participants. Sakura and another woman took cards one after the other upon hearing the poems start being recited by the reader, probably a professor, with a characteristic singing voice. Both women moved around, picking up the cards that flew away with the speed of their touch, rearranging the cards once and again in their original position and adjusting their posture or their way of sitting during the fast game. In the end, Sakura lost for just one card. Even though she smiled and greeted the winner, he could see her disappointment in her pupils, especially when they fell on him. She seemed surprised to see him, most likely because he had insisted on the idea that he would not probably be able to go.

As soon as the ritual finished, she made him a gesture to wait for her and went to leave her second-place trophy, a commemorative plaque, with one of her club mates.

“Sasuke-kun!” she approached him, who had gone to stand near the door, and was leaning on one of the walls. “I'm glad that you could make it.”

“Thank my brother” he replied in a composed tone. “I had a lunch appointment, but in the end, Itachi convinced my father that both of them were more than enough to deal with the client.”

What he remained silent about, was the fact that Uchiha Fugaku had been convinced with a slightly different excuse. Itachi had argued that if he kept on neglecting Sakura, the possibilities of her marrying into the clan would be almost none. Not wanting to hear another long ranting about how his younger son was not able to fulfil his responsibilities, courtesy of the elders and the most traditional members of the family, he had agreed.

“I'll keep that in mind” she smiled softly, and both of them moved to the door. Most of the people who had been watching the tournament had already gone, there were just some participants and their relatives and the people responsible for cleaning the main room.

“I'm sorry that you came to see me lose,on” she said after a few seconds of silence, a bit embarrassed.

“But you won the previous game” he stopped and turned to her in a corridor that led to the hall and the shoe lockers.

“You were here?”

“For the final minutes only” he put his handinthe pockets of his trousers. “You're really good.”

“”But not enough, it seems. After my exams, I'll have to practise harder.

“You mean you didn't finish them yet? And you're here?” he asked a bit bewildered.

She smiled.

“I've been studying for a long time, so there is no problem. Also, we students need a break once in a while, don't you think?” she laced her fingers behind her. “I would go mad if I were studying for hours every day.”

He smirked lightly as he shook his head slowly. He should have expected something like that.

She looked at the tatami room that they had left behind for a moment and then turned to him.

“Sasuke-kun, have you got any appointments or plans for the afternoon?” He looked at his watch.

“I have some matters to take care of, so I had thought to come back to the company when the tournamente finished. But I can spare some time... I can invite you to lunch, if you haven't had it yet.”

She shook her head.

“We had a lunch break after the second round...” her eyes sparkled with an slightly michievous glint. “I was thinking of something funnier.”

She took him by the arm and lead him along the corridor to a small room scarcely decorated. There were only a vase and a scroll in the tokonoma and a bookcase on the right side.

She let him go and went to the shelf, taking a dark box.

“How about a game of karuta?” he lifted an eyebrow, looking at her intently. “I suppose you have played before, right Sasuke-kun?”

“Yes,” he said putting a hand on his waist and shifting the weight of his body to one foot. “But only in New Year with my cousins and my brother.”

“Good.”

She smiled and took two cushions from a corner, putting them on the tatami; then, she kneeled on one of them and opened the box, revealing a set of slightly worn cards.

“You're not expecting me to play against you, aren't you?” she lifted her face to him. “It's obvious who's going to win, and I have my pride, you know...”

“Oh, come on, Sasuke-kun, don't be grouchy” she pursed her lips slightly, trying to contain her mirth. “It's going to be a friendly game, no more...”

“Right...”

“I'll even give you a five-second head start.”

He stared at her with half-closed eyes, as if she were mocking him.

“You're being too annoying today...” was his only response.

However, a moment later, he approached slowly and saw her take the second-part cards, leaving the others in the box and setting them aside. Then, she stood up again and went to the bookcase again to take a CD player.

“Our reader”, she said lifting it slightly.

He was not really convinced so he stayed on his feet, watching her hands as they shuffled the cards. They were small, with thin fingers and really quick. Then, after she set them on the tatami again, he found her pleading eyes, and after a moment, with a defeated sigh, he left his coat on the floor and took off his jacket and his tie, putting them on top of it, and kneeled on the cushion, opposite her. She gave him the pile of cards.

“You chose.”

THE END

#Naruto #fanfic #ssm17 #ssm17d9 #sasusakumonth #Uchiha Sasuke #Haruno Sakura #SasuSaku #OTP

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