#I love you ink sans you mean the world 2 me I hope you know it

[dreagine]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 2 YOOOOUUU….

HAPPY BIRTHDAY 2 YOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!!!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR INK SANS……

Happy birthday 2 you🥰

#art shtuff #awww my baby!!!😭😭😭 #they’re growing up so fast🥺 #8 years old already…. #I love you ink sans you mean the world 2 me I hope you know it #I both hate and love this drawing but it’s OKAY!!! #bc it’s his birthday #happy birthday ink sans I love you #do I drop the Timelapse here too chat or no #ink sans #ink!sans #ink sans’ birthday🥺🥺🥺

[wokeup-inadaze]

Favorite Lyrics From Heartbreak Weather

Heartbreak Weather:

You, that's what I've been missing/was tangled up and twisted/now all the clouds been lifted.

Black and White:

I can't promise picket fences/or sunny afternoons.

Dear Patience:

So, this song, THIS SONG. Has too many.

1 - Dear patience/Can we share a drink and let go of the pressure?

2 - Just me and the stars can get lonely

3 - Hey can you show your face/Can you see that I'm anxious/Can you hear what I'm saying, saying/Hey, cause I fall to fast/and go down blazing

4 - If I pour my heart out can you keep a promise (hmm)/Cause the situation/is like a mountain weighing on my conscience

(yeah ok the whole song)

Bend The Rules:

And I pour myself a glass/it won't be the last/just all medicine for now

Small Talk:

Oh, you see the fool in my mind/Can't run and hide/With your stare on me

Nice To Meet Ya:

I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear/cause when the morning comes/I know you won't be there

Put A Little Love On Me:

yeah this one is trouble for me too

1 - Is it wrong I still don't know my heart?

2 - Another Friday night tryna put on a show/Do you hate the weekend 'cause no one is calling

3 - I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin.

4 - We wrote and we wrote/ 'til there were no more words/we laughed and cried/until we saw our worst

5 - Last night I lay awake/stuck on the things we say/and when I close my eyes, the first things i hear you say is/put a little love on me , yeah

6 - When the lights come up, we're the only ones dancing/I look around and you're standing there asking/you say, you're the only one I need

ok, again, the whole song

Arms of a Stranger:

If we're not going to do this honestly/Baby, won't ya give me back what you took apart

Everywhere:

The ground beneath my feet's a bit colder/I see your face in people I don't know/Feels like the world is twisting in slow-mo/And I'm stuck in one place

Cross Your Mind:

You keep talkin, I'll just listen/Daydreaming 'bout where your lips' been/pull my heart right out my chest, drive a train through/still get up and forgive you

New Angel:

Each time I close my eyes/she's in there running wild/I'm hoping you get her out of my mind.

No Judgement:

Even though we both know we'll move on/I'll keep your secrets safe/until that time we find ourselves alone again

San Francisco:

Drunk dialing/Full dive in/Don't you tell that it's too late now/Cause I'm pacing/I keep breaking/Is there a way to make it up somehow?

Still:

hahahaha a few lyrics she said to herself once

1 - My mind is complicated/Find it hard to rearrange it/But I'll have to find a way somehow/Overreacting lately/Find it hard to say I'm sorry/But I'll make it up to you somehow

2 - And I just don't know why/The stars won't shine at night

3 - Tell me you want it/A thousand miles away from the day that we started/But I'm standing here with you just tryna be honest/If honesty means telling you the truth/Well, I'm still in love with you

4 - Did I miscalculate this/Let's just go back to basics/Forget about what's come and gone/'Cause I hate to see us like this/Breaking up on nights just like this/We should be shooting for them stars of gold

Yeah, all in all that is the whole song.

Dress:

I'm calling 'cause I'm nervous/I know that we don't talk/I know that it's on purpose

Nothing:

What turns the sky from black to gold?/What sends my tears up in flames?

#niall horan #niall horan lyrics #i love writing #Heartbreak Weather

[hollow-indigo]

JUST WATCHED UNDERVERES 0.7 (part 1) AND HAHDGHSGAJGDJSGSJGDHSJSGD

spoilers under the cut 🥰

WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BOY (XChara)

XGaster CANNOT be calling my boy a hypocrite because at least XChara didn’t FORCE SOMEONE TO KILL THEIR BROTHER???!!??????? MORE THAN ONCE????!?!?!!?????

(and also don’t mention season 1 because XChara is what we, in the industry, call ✨mentally ill✨)

like ain’t no way you’re staying sane after some bs like what happened in XTale

love that the explosive furby’s came into play tho

most of this is gonna be me crying over XChara I love him sm he’s so silly and he’s my favorite little scrimblo ever

MF XASRIEL STABBED XCHARA’S SOUL LIKE HELLO?.????

I had to rewatch that scene because I didn’t see the thorns coming out Xasriel’s hand BUT DAMN HELLO???????

my poor boy he doesn’t deserve this

he genuinely cares about what’s happening and hates standing by and doing nothing

also I hope i’m not the only one who saw the tiny faded text while XMettaton was fighting Undyne

the “I am him! (he is trapped within me)” and the “(please, I want to throw up)”

AND FRISK TALKED (barely)

sans is fucking traumatized man, he’s just given up-

Papyrus making jokes about the fucking merciless runs Frisk did “OVER MY MILLIOnTH BEHEADED BODY” like man 💀 honestly I feel that-

CROSS AND GENO !!!!!!!!

the two funny guys meet

I like how Cross still cares about the locket despite probably fucking hating XChara for like, everything rn

then again, it wasn’t XChara that gave it to him, it was XFrisk, so.

also bestie wtf was that unlimited vial for ??????

XGaster really said “here bestie take this. it doesn’t benefit you at all 🥰”

I was wondering how the new outfit would be introduced

also loving how Fresh!Ink’s weapon is those marker-swords every kid made when they had the chance

error really going through it huh 😔

core is so silly I want to be their best friend they’re so silly and nice

I wonder how the people across the world feel about XMettaton’s “OVERDRIVE”

like “wait it was daytime like 5 minutes ago what happened”

“daylight savings???????”

“…it’s????? 2pm??????”

I bet that conversation happened

I wonder how Frisk and XChara are gonna team up, because we know it’s gonna happen, we see it in the intro, Frisk and XChara with the save button

I had this theory that it would happen by XChara running away, Frisk thinking he’s like the others and trying to hurt people, Fight (?) ensues between XChara and maybe Papyrus or Asgore, trying to protect Frisk, XChara explains everything then boom besties but now i’m not sure because of the whole thing with XChara needing “pure determination” to defy XGaster.

I also remember seeing a theory on reddit about the names of each XTale character’s battle themes being foreshadowing for season 2, it was something about how XPapyrus seems to really really hate being on XGaster’s side, and his battle theme’s name is deceit, so maybe he’s lying about his loyalty to XGaster or something along those lines

and it would make sense, but it makes me question the names of everyone else’s battle theme, specifically XFrisk’s, being “Duplicity”

Duplicity definition: deceitfulness; double-dealing

synonyms: two-facedness, decietfulness, deception, funny business, shenanigans, you get the idea

if this whole “Battle theme names being foreshadowing” theory is true, then is he also lying to XGaster about his loyalty? or, to my dismay, would he be lying about something else later on…?

straight up, XMuffet’s is Insurrect, and us americans, after what happened on january 6th 2021, know what insurrection means.

so is XMuffet going to start a rebellion? how?

ALSO I CANNOT FUCKING GET OVER THE FACT THAT THEY BROUGHT THE FUCKING ARMY INTO THIS

MFS BROUGHT GUNS TO A KNIFE AND LAZERS FIGHT

idk something about the idea of someone trying to point a gun at XGaster or something just is so funny to me

and before I stop rambling, let it be known

XFlowey will give me nightmares 🥰

#grape flavored ramblings #XTale #Underverse #Underverse 0.7 #spoilers

[lovclyboncs]

Everything I Wanted 2/2 (F!Reader x Todoroki)

soulmate Au! Where your soulmate tattoo appears on your wrist after you touch your soulmate for the first time.

F!reader x Todoroki

F!Reader x Bakugou (brotp)

Plot: the reader is Todoroki’s soulmate. Todoroki rejected reader because he thought he was in love with Momo and didn’t want to let fate dictate his life. Now the two of them have a conversation that was long over due.

Part one

Before getting on with the story I want to give a huge thanks to everyone who reblogged and liked part one, it means the world to me that there is people out there who enjoyed my writing, and a big thank you to @dillybuggg and to @power-house-fan12 for encouraging me to write another part sending so much love to you guys!!! 💗💗💗

“Someday?”

“Someday.”

"Todoroki-san, I met my soulmate."

"oh."

" I think we should come clean to our classmates, i really want to see where this goes"

Todoroki couldn’t blame her. They were foolish to think their puppy love could stand strong against fate.

Todoroki and Momo had been walking on eggshells around each other during their first year at UA. They were attracted to each other even though they weren’t each other’s destined partner. Trust them they checked, they had been so hopeful only for it to crumble when their left wrists were still void of black Ink even after they had their first kiss.

They had been laying low with their blossoming relationship until the fateful day Shoto and (y/n) first touched.

Shoto didn’t know what to think of (l/n). She didn’t stand out as a person or a hero in training, so when they were paired up on a project there seemed to be a never ending silence between them, with his lack of social skills and her lack of- well everything they didn’t even know where to begin. After a couple of awkward questions about what they wanted to do, they were able to get started, and he thought then that (l/n) wasn’t so bad, but when he dropped his pencil and they both reached for it, that’s when it all went south. He remembers the stinging feeling he felt on his wrist and couldn’t help flinching at the uncomfortable sensation.

He didn’t need to look at his wrists to know what had happened and he didn’t need to think twice before grabbing his things and giving a quiet excuse for his sudden need to be very far away from (l/n).

It wasn’t until he was locked away safely in his room that he dared look at his wrist, and there it was in bold black ink, in a surprisingly illegible yet legible font, how does someone achieve that? ‘(Y/n) (l/n)’.

He’s not quite sure how long he stared at it, but he knows that by the time he was able to organize his thoughts there were birds chirping out side welcoming the new day.

He had rejected her.

She had been okay with it.

He didn’t tell Momo who his soulmate was, but he did tell her that he didn’t want to continue hiding their relationship. What was stopping them from sharing their happiness with the rest of the class? Momo believed they would be looked down on for not waiting on their soulmates. It wasn’t common for people to date anyone who wasn’t their soulmate, it was even more uncommon to reject a soulmate, but look at him, he did it and he was perfectly fine- they were perfectly fine.

Momo was the one who came up with the idea to draw on their soulmate tattoos, unaware of the fact that there already was a name on Todoroki’s wrist, unaware of the pain she was causing to that other half.

Coming clean to their classmates had gone surprisingly well, and Todoroki wasn’t sure how he felt about that, about that fact that (y/n) didn’t yell or question him on the why.

Why had he lied?

Why had he covered her up like she was something not worth looking at?

Why did he rub his relationship in her face?

Why not give them a chance if he was gonna chase something temporary?

Instead she had looked him in the eyes and gifted him a soft smile.

After everyone had scattered around the common area after their announcement, Todoroki decided to sit outside and take a breather.

He couldn’t help but sigh.

Thinking back to the day he and (y/n) first touched, he wished he hadn’t been such a coward.

He wished he had given her a chance to speak, because looking back now he realized that he did all the talking, he called all the shots not giving her a say in the matter.

She followed his wishes and yet he can’t help but want to be selfish and take it all back.

He had been wrong to think she had been lacking anything because she was everything. She was perfect to him, for him.

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

Fate had told him she was his, a gift from the universe to cherish and like a spoiled brat he threw it away, ruined it. ‘Seems to run in the family’, he thought bitterly.

(Y/n) (L/n) was everything he wanted and he didn’t deserve her.

The worst part was that the person who helped him realize that was the hotheaded blonde of 1-A (now 2-A).

He was the one who brought out the best in (y/n) or maybe the only one who had bothered to listen, who had bothered to truly see her.

Todoroki couldn’t help but resent him for it yet he was grateful, because without Bakugou pushing her to open up, he would have never realized that he had shut the door on something beautiful without opening it.

“Why are you out here? Curfew is in 20 minutes” he heard her soft voice.

He didn’t reply and he felt her sit beside him on the stairs.

And there was silence.

What could he possibly say now?

Im sorry? That seemed too shallow

“It’s okay you know?” She began.

He finally listened.

“I’ll be honest, it had hurt- you had hurt me when you shut me out without giving me a chance to prove myself worthy of being on your wrist. I questioned if it had been something I did, something I didn’t do, or if it had been my appearance that had caused you to utter those words. Bakugou told me that it shouldn’t be something I beat myself over, that if it had been me that you would have told me, but you didn’t. You just told me that your heart belonged to another”

She stopped and finally looked at him, and he at her.

“ Im sorry things between you two didn’t work out how you wanted them to-” she had began, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I thought I knew what I wanted and if I’m being honest I think I just wanted to be able to choose at least one thing for myself.” He said without thinking, it was time he stopped hiding from the truth, the selfish truth he hid under his not so pure love for Momo.

“Ever since I was born I have been nothing but a tool for my father. The just right child with the just right quirk. I wasn’t allowed to spend time with my siblings, I wasn’t allowed to play, I wasn’t allowed to make my own decision. It was always my father, and then I found out I wasn’t able to choose who I wanted to be with because apparently fate did that, so I would question what it is that I got to decide for myself

because if fate and my father made the decisions then what was I left with? What part of my life was actually mines for the taking?” He looked at the ground unable to continue meeting her eyes.

“So even if it’s not enough I do apologize, (y/n), for thinking so selfishly that I didn’t take into consideration the fact that you didn’t choose me either and that I didn’t try to make it easier for the both of us” he said clenching his fist to keep some sort of anchor on his mess of emotions.

Todoroki felt a small hand (or at least smaller that his own) lay on top of his own.

“Maybe we’ve both been going about this the wrong way? So what if we have each other’s name on our wrist? that doesn’t mean we should get married next week” (y/n) said in an attempt to lighten his load, to let him know that he didn’t need to beat himself over it just like she didn’t need to.

“ let’s just start as friends and see how things go and then maybe someday who knows” she shrugged her shoulders casually and flashed him a smile.

Todoroki looked at her and she at him.

He relaxed his hand that was underneath her and let himself hold her hand.

“Someday?” He asked

“Someday” she grinned.

(Y/n) cleared her throat and held her hand out for a handshake making him raise an eyebrow

“Hi my name is (y/n) (l/n) let’s be friends”

“I’m Shoto Todoroki, and I would like that very much”

“ I’m Aizawa, the teacher and you two need to get to bed”

“Yes sir!”

#mha x reader #todoroki x reader #anime #anime angst #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki shoto #fanfiction #anime fanfic #class 1 a #healing #friendship #angst oneshot #brotp #strwbrrybratff

[bleachhaven]

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 3/6

Author’s Note:

I know I said I’d have something for you this weekend, but all the love ya’ll showed Part 2 of this story had me super inspired that I just sat down and wrote this out. After all, feedback is what fuels writers xD There should be a few more parts left after this. I know I know...the 2-parter story has evolved into a 5-parter :P

First off, thank you so much for all the love! Secondly, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

A very special thanks to @sexintheseireitei​ for all the encouraging words! This chapter is dedicated especially for you!

--

Read Part 1 and Part 2 first...

As much as Nanao-chan strictly insisted that today was just like any other day, the bits of pink and red popping up all over the black and white of the seireitei said otherwise. Of course, Squad 1 was devoid of such nonsense, despite Shunsui's several clandestine operations to host a party in the 1st for the last decade. He had been sternly thwarted by his fuktaicho who did not believe this day to hold any meaning at all.

Maybe that's why it was that much more fun to bother her thoroughly with something she would definitely think to be too extravagant.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my sweet, sweet, Nanao-chan," Shunsui said with a cheeky smile, plopping the gift down on her desk.

She stared at the little teddy-bear donned in red bows and holding a red plushy heart saying "sweet, sweet, Nanao-chan!"

Her gaze turned upwards towards him. "This is a highly inappropriate gift to give to your fuktaicho."

"Ah, but we are practically family. And you are my sweet, sweet, Nanao-chan after all..."

"Hmm..." was all she said in response.

Even if she said she hated the gift, she dared not move it. She allowed the fluffy thing to take space on her desk and carried on working.

Shunsui continued to stare at her, waiting impatiently and expectantly. She continued to look over another expense report from the 11th for property damage, but Shunsui didn't move.

Finally she looked up. "Did you need something?"

He pouted at her. "Did Nanao-chan forget?"

She wanted to pretend and feign ignorance but she just couldn't do it. She has clearly gone soft in the past couple of years if his pouting face could make her cave this easily.

"Fine," she sighed, and reached into her desk drawer. In her hand was an assorted box of chocolates all complete with a white ribbon tied into a bow. "Happy Valentine's Day, Taicho," she said.

"Why, thank you, Nanao-chan! You really shouldn't have," he said making Nanao snort a bit. He was already opening it as he sauntered towards his side of the office.

On top of his desk was...well, nothing but paperwork, and he had to say he was just a little bit disappointed. He had been wondering what his beloved Secret Admirer would give him this Valentine's Day. Truthfully, it was all he had been  looking forward to this week. But there was no love letter hidden beneath other official mail or left on top of his window sill.

He sat down at his desk and pulled out his latest project. He popped in one of Nanao-chan's chocolates, the taste of salted caramel teasing his taste buds, and spread out the fancy lavender colored paper.

After all, she wasn't the only one with a way of words.

Even after becoming the Soutaicho, he continued to write a few chapters for "Rose-Colored-Path." Sure, that was mostly erotica but writing a love letter couldn't be that difficult, could it?

He already had a bit written out. He was still trying to figure out how to tell this sweet Secret Admirer he would want to get to know her, without making it sound like either its a command from the Soutaicho, or as if he was a complete and utter lecher trying to score a night or two of fun.

Then of course there was the bigger problem. How in the world was he to get this love letter to her? He still had no clue who she was let alone if she was actually serious about the things she said. It was both frustrating and romantic.

Right now, as things were, it was mostly frustrating.

It was in times like this that he desperately wished Juu was around. He was certain his best friend would have had some kind of solution or at least some words of wisdom to offer to this heartbreaking dilemma. Or maybe he would have admonished Shunsui for falling for someone he hadn't even seen yet. With Juu gone, and with the position he now held, he had no one to talk to about things that bothered him.

He had no peers after all. Being the man at the top was not easy. He knew it would be a difficult job when he stepped up to it, but he had no idea that it would be this lonely.

All of his quiet sighing and restless shuffling naturally drew Nanao's attention.

"How difficult is it to read through a missive and stamp your seal of authority?" Nanao asked, stepping up to his desk. He tried to hide what he was working on, but Nanao's sharp eyes would not be waylaid. "Unless...you are not working on the paperwork as you were supposed..."

"No, no!" Shunsui insisted, knowing the lavender paper was peeking through his hands. "It's just a bit of difficult paperwork. Strictly official business, I assure you, my dear Nanao-chan."

"Oh I see," she said, and Shunsui hoped she really didn't see at all.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

She had a strange smile on her face. One that had Shunsui wanting to run for cover. It did not bode well when Nanao-chan bared her teeth like that.

"Does this have anything to do with...your Secret Admirer perhaps?"

Shunsui could swear he tried to remain expressionless as to not give anything away, but maybe his heart stopped a little."I don't know what you are talking about."

She raised a brow at him. "Really? Do you really think anything would get by me in this office? That I wouldn't notice the fancy little letters you've been hiding from me?"

"You knew?" Shunsui asked, a bit shocked. And here he was thinking he was being so hush hush about the whole thing.

Nanao rolled her eyes and returned to her desk. "It offends me that you thought I didn't."

Interesting turn of events this turned out to be. He couldn't help but wonder. If Nanao-chan did indeed know all about his Secret Admirer...maybe...

"Do you know who it is?"

Nanao, who had picked up her paperwork again, smiled down at the form before her. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't," she said non-commitedly.

"Please, Nanao-chan! Don't be so mean to your Taicho. Just tell me."

She shook her head, denying his request. "I'm not telling you anything about anything. Now, please either do your work, or run along and let me do my work in peace."

"So mean," Shunsui mumbled, picking up the brush once more and dipping it in ink.

However, the whole conversation planted a terrible thought in his head. What if there really was no Secret Admirer? What if it was some elaborate prank on the poor lonely Soutaicho by someone? Maybe the SWA was having a laugh. He wouldn't put it past Matsumoto-san honestly. Or even his own Nanao-chan. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. And the more it made sense, the more it made his mood plummet.

But he didn't want to believe it. He longed for these letters to be true, for it was too late now. He was halfway there...falling for a nameless, faceless woman who had romanced and seduced him with just a sweet words. How cruel would it be for it to now turn out to be nothing more than a prank?

A few minutes passed by, the silence broken only by the scratch of brush on paper. Then a commotion outside startled Shunsui out of his reverie.

A sharp knock, and a bid to enter, was followed by an officer of the 1st relaying some strange information of something or the other that Squads 11 and 12 had gotten up to. A fight or a brawl.

Nanao sighed, standing up from her desk. "Not again."

"It's alright, Nanao-chan. I'll take care of it. You carry on with whatever it is that you were doing," Shunsui said making a move towards the door already. His mood was feeling low and this was the perfect excuse to get out of the office for a while.

Once he was gone, Nanao cleared up the completed paperwork on his desk to be sent to the relevant divisions. If the little lavender paper got stuffed between some forms and approvals, it was purely an accident. If that specific set of forms ended up in Squad 13, it was surely unintentional. If it was found by the third seat of Squad 13 it was only because their squad was without a fuktaicho still and all the paperwork fell upon her.

Nanao definitely couldn't have predicted any of that after all. But then again...Ise Nanao almost always knew exactly what was going on, did she not?

—

Shunsui was in a glum mood when he finally returned to the office. Nanao had left a message with another officer to let him know that she had a SWA meeting so she would be leaving the office a bit earlier than usual to attend that before the Valentine’s Day Party at the 8th.

He almost thought to go straight to said party. Lisa had continued with his silly tradition as the current Taicho of Squad 8, and she went all out. He dared not be too late and risk all the good sake provided generously by Squad 6, and the cellars of  Kuchiki manor itself, running out. But he had to finish his love letter, even if he knew he might never get to send it to the relevant individual...if there even was an individual in the first place.

When he stepped in, he couldn't see the lavender paper on his desk. Truth be told, he couldn't see anything on his desk at all.

It was covered with a huge, and by huge meaning gigantic, bouquet of red roses. He shunpoed to see if there was a card left for him, and there definitely was.

Dear Shunsui,

I have to say I don't need a special day out of the year to show you how much you mean to me. Still I know how much you enjoy this day. I used to love the parties you threw back then. Yadomaru Taicho carries on the traditions but I feel it's not just the same. Not without you.

Every day feels like a day dedicated to love when thoughts of you haunt me always...but what a beautiful way to be haunted indeed.

Happy Valentine's Day, Shunsui!

These roses may one day fade, but my love for you never will. I've loved you for a lifetime already, and I know I would love you for another lifetime more.

These are chocolates I made especially for you, infused with your favorite sake, just the way you like it. Every time you taste one, I hope you'd think of me thinking of how much I yearn to taste you.

With love,

Your Secret Admirer

He picked up the box of chocolates he hadn't noticed earlier as it was hidden behind the elaborate bouquet of roses. It was an elegant box with a pretty pink print of sakura blossoms, tied together with a pink bow. It almost looked too pretty to undo. Almost.

He slowly opened it and popped a cute heart-shaped chocolate into his mouth, savoring the taste of delicious chocolate mixed with the mild bite of the sake. It tasted absolutely divine.

He was floored. If this was a prank, it was truly an unnecessarily elaborate one.

But he allowed himself to cherish this moment in the solitude of his now quiet office. Handmade chocolates and flowers...it was something he would do for someone he was romancing. Now to be romanced by someone so extravagantly, it felt truly amazing. He couldn't believe someone made these with her own hands just for him. He didn't think he had something so sweet done for him in a very long time...maybe not forever.

He was the one who had always played the role of the romantic, the seducer, the lover...it did indeed feel nice to have this kind of charm turned on him.

But as much as he devoured the attention, he also felt strangely dismayed. Instinctively, he was a giver. It applied to his family and friends, and it definitely applied to his love life. Even if it was a summer fling, he still treated his companions with respect and adoration. In whatever way possible, he tried to give everything he could to those he loved and valued. It was not in him to not reciprocate. He didn't know how to not be a giver. It wasn't in his nature.

This time, he truly desperately wanted to shower his admirer with so much love and affection, and it killed him inside to not know who she was...

—

Read Part 4 next!

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Or check out more of my work through the Masterlist here!

#shunsui kyouraku #kyouraku shunsui #kyouraku shunsui x reader #shunsui x reader #shunsui kyouraku x reader #bleach x reader #soutaicho’s secret admirer #bleach imagines

[burnedbyshoto]

eternal love

— A simple love story between a tattoo artist and a flower shop owner. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing

word count: 10,505

a/n: so, ngl... this was something that blew up in my mind at 2 am a few nights ago and after fighting others on whether I should write it, I finally did it!!! I super loved writing this, and I hope you guys will enjoy reading it!!!! a lil fluff for the soul, have fun :D also uh, this works for @bnhabookclub​‘s event so huzzah!

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Spring was a season of renewal. The world is going back to what it once was in its beautiful glory. Baby pinks and soft greens illuminated as far as the eyes could see, the morning mist unable to freeze because of the warmth in the ground. 

The gentle echoing sounds of animals, insects, and more returning to regular activity, the cold winters finally defeated. Butterflies danced in the air, birds sang in the trees, and love was in the air. 

What would be perfect with love?

Flowers.

“Good morning, y/l/n-san,” an elder greeted you.

Your cheeks were already burning with exhaustion, it was only eight in the morning, and you were tired. You wiped the back of your hand to your sweating forehead, your fatigue ignored while you smiled in greeting. “Good morning!”

She stared up at you with kind eyes, her hands holding onto her cane while she cocked her head to the side, “You seem to be quite exhausted this morning.”

There wasn’t much you could say or reply with because it was true.

“Well, we finally have a whole bunch of flowers back, and with White Day approaching us, I’m trying to make sure we’re on track!” you explain, trying to fix the multiple buckets of assorted flowers that you would have outside of your store.

You were a flower shop owner. 

Your entire life, you had lived a life where you had grown up working alongside your parents. This was a family business, and with your parents eldering years and you finally back from schooling, they had decided to take an impromptu trip to see the world, leaving you behind to take care of the store. It wasn’t something you minded; after all, they had allowed you to seek all of your own adventures in your life despite only being owners of a flower shop, but it was a lot of work for just yourself. 

You couldn’t hire anyone to work at the store, after all, while you had never grown up to live in a moment of discomfort, it was because your parents and yourself busted your backs for this store was why it survived. But now it was just you.

Winter had been fine, the flowers never had to leave the store, but this was spring.

Renewal, return, and romance suffocated the airs of Japan, and your slow winter business was already becoming a quick and demanding spring one.

Brushing your soiled hands onto the relatively clean apron you wore, you sighed at the sight of the elder looking past you. ‘Was she that old that she spaced out in public?’ you couldn’t help but think while staring at her. 

“Who’s moving into that shop there?” the elder spoke up, and you hummed, turning around to follow her extended finger. 

The shop next to your family’s flower shop had been vacant for years, the last time you remember anyone being there was in middle school. Now in your early twenties, you didn’t even realize that anyone was moving in. There were a lot of men too! How you had so apparently been ignorant to their massive hustle to move things in shocked you. Damn, maybe you were past the point of exhaustion at this point…

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your eyes growing when you realized just how neater the store looked. They had obviously been working on repairing the store for some time now, the store was painted in a clean and crisp color, the brick walls scrubbed and glittering like new. It was pretty aesthetic.

 “Y/l/n-san! Please help me, it’s my wife’s promotion day, and the flowers I ordered online never arrived!” a voice screamed from a distance away, and your attention turned towards a man who was sobbing while scampering his way over. 

And even with your want to just stare at the army of men moving in machines you’ve never seen in your life, you exhaled softly, turning to face the scared customer.

“Of course, follow me!”

You bid your farewells to the elder and hurried inside, ready to create an arrangement of flowers that the customer would enjoy.

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Your exhaustion of the day never seemed to end, the spring day had brought a plethora of customers to your storefront. Many couples, new and old, are surfacing to pick out fresh bouquets together. Their happiness is charming, personalities warming and smiles ever so sweet. They always asked about how you were doing, how your parents were doing — after all, this was a tight community, and they asked about the new business next door.

You couldn’t respond to that last question, your face always burning up in your embarrassment of not knowing. There was no reason for you to not know, after all, it wasn’t as if you were ever doing anything that wasn’t running the store. There was no one to rely on but yourself at this point, but still, exhaustion didn’t mean you could miss the purchase and remodeling of the store right next door to you!

Soon it was nine at night, the now empty wooden carts that were once outdoors dragged back indoors of your store. You took count of your sales today, grinning to see that you had managed to sell everything you had put out today except for a few leftover peonies. You moved back towards the door, ready to turn the Open sign to the Closed side. But you paused when you saw three men walking out of the neighboring shop. 

Your eyes focused on the three of them talking comfortably. You had no idea what they were saying, but still, you concentrate on them, curiosity getting the best of you. They talked for a while while you continued to peer through the glass on the door, the conversation must have been lively considering that one of the men was laughing so frequently you almost wished you could hear what they were saying. But alas, eventually, they embraced, and two of the three men entered the large truck that had been parked in the alleyway practically all day and left.

Frowning, you saw that the man was still standing out there. He was unmoving, looking at who knows what with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The night was dark, and the lights on the street did little to help you create what he looked like in your mind. But with a passing car, the soft light illuminating the man with the gentle headlights, you got a clear image of him.

Well, it would have been clear had your guts scrambled into a knot at the sight of his own eyes piercing into yours.

He had noticed you.

With a loud cry, you dove to the floor, your hands pressed against the cool wood while you thought about your next plan of action. Would he come and confront you? Stalking people like this wasn’t cool in the slightest, and if he wanted to walk over and ask you about it, you wouldn’t be able to lie in the slightest. You knew that about yourself. Or maybe it was just you freaking out? There was a solid chance that this was just you freaking out, right?

Your palms sweat while you pushed off the floor, your body trembling as if you were the starring role of some American horror movie. Sucking in your air, and with a hammering heart, you peeked through the glass. No one was out there.

Sighing in relief, you were grateful to believe that it was either your imagination that he stared at you, or he just didn’t care. But still, even with the exhaustion weighing heavy in your bones, you knew you owed him a greeting. Your mother would have your head when she returned if you didn’t. Plus, it helped that the pink peonies still sat in the bucket, their petals still strong and firm, beautiful and lively. 

With a nod, you walked over to them. Grabbing the peonies, you organized the delicate flowers into a full and lush looking bouquet. You hoped that he liked flowers, and wouldn’t mind the kind you gave him, primarily because you couldn’t provide him with anything else. Nevertheless, you wrapped the flowers in a tan paper and walked out, ready to give your greetings to a newcomer.

The store felt a world away while you walked towards it, and upon stepping in front of the store, it stole your breath away.

It was a tattoo shop.

Tattoos in Japan were no longer being associated with the Yakuza, years of trying to get everyone to accept this western practice by the younger generations had finally succeeded. Tattoo shops were blooming in numbers across the country, and it seemed that your area was no different. 

The outside had large windows, and without even entering the shop, you found it to be quite classy indoors. This wasn’t at all what you were expecting from a tattoo shop! You had always assumed that it was black, something similar to the gates of hell feeling. But with the sign not claiming it was closed, and the store hours showing that it was open until eleven at night, you pushed past the doors. You were glad to see that your pink peonies would make a generous splash of color in the darker colored storefront.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice ever so softly echoing against the unoccupied room. “Is anyone here?”

Cringing at what you said, you groaned. If there was no one here, would that make you a criminal? Oh god, please don’t let that be true! But if there was no one here, why would he leave with the lights on and the door unlocked?! How stupid—

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, you’re screwed, was all you could think at first when you turned towards the black curtained hallway. 

The man who stood there was tall, his shoulders wide, and legs firm. His arms — which were covered shoulders to wrists in tattoos, his right side containing only black inked tattoos, and his left in the most colorful ink you’d ever seen — were defined with muscle, stretching the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt. 

A line of piercings down the cartilage of his ears, identical on both sides of his head. His hair, however, was something you’ve never seen before. Half white, half red, with an undercut and detailed shavings at his temples, it was currently held back with a thin black headband that exposed his eyes to you. He was heterochromatic, you could tell immediately by the piercing blue and dark grey eye color he held. But there was nothing to disguise your reaction when you saw the tattoo — scar? — that covered his eye like an overlarge eyepatch.

There was no smile on his face, just a quirked eyebrow and his lips set in an unamused frown.

“Is that a tattoo?!” you asked your jaw to the floor. Your fingers touched the place where the red skin on his face would be on your own. 

“No,” he responded after a beat, his eyes were unbelievably annoyed. Obviously, not at all amused by your intrusion and rude words. “It’s a burn, but again, can I help you, or are you just going to stand there and stare. Not that you look the type to get tattoos, though.”

“I do have piercings, though,” you couldn’t help but defend yourself, your skin feeling like it was burning under his gaze. “But okay, yes. I mean, no! No, you can’t help me because I’m not here for your services.”

His gaze on you only seemed to intensify, a fire and ice storm erupting in his eyes while you wanted to punch yourself in the throat. Good god, be normal.

“I’m your neighbor! Well, I guess I can give you my name. Y/l/n y/n at your service,” you try, your hands thrusting out the peonies in your grasp. His gaze didn’t drop to the flowers, not even a twitch of an eye, which only coursed anxiety through your blood. “I’m the owner slash, not the owner of the flower shop! I hadn’t noticed you ever moving in except today, so I felt super bad! Um, so I just wanted to stop by and say, well, welcome! And uh, well… I just felt bad! These are peonies.”

“I know what flowers those are,” he responds, but his gaze remains unfazed.

What the hell was his problem, you thought, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as if you were being confronted by a deadly predator and not some stupid hot tattoo artist with a bad attitude.

“Oh, cool! Most people think they’re roses for whatever reason,” you laugh, looking at the flowers, your shoulder shrugging. 

“I also know they’re the only flowers you had leftover from your sales today,” he spoke again, and your face twisted when you returned to his gaze again. 

“Excuse me?”

“I was outside when you were pulling all your carts inside, and they were the only ones who weren’t sold today,” he shrugs, his arms crossing before his chest. The muscles on his arms only seem to expand at this, the ink dancing across his skin, forming new images in your mind while you feel like punching him in the jaw. “Is that what you feel about your new neighbor? I’m deserving of day-old flowers that you were unable to sell?”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, the frustration in your blood climbing while you held his stare. “I mean, are they new and super fresh flowers, no! But they haven’t even wilted yet because I know how to take care of my crap! I just finished the winter season where flower sales are always less than favored, so sorry I couldn’t toss you a thousand yen bouquet!”

There was a silence that floated across the room, his eyes staring into yours, and you could do nothing but stare back at him. Your shoulders rag with your uncontrolled angry breathing, what a fucking asshole he was! Who did he think he was?!

“Well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that you’re broke,” he sighs, finally taking strides over towards you. There’s a part of you that yells to leave the store immediately, and an even larger part of you that screams to step at him too, throw him off his trail! But in your indecisiveness, he stands before you, taking the flowers from your hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

“That is so obviously not my name,” you roll your eyes, your arms folding across your chest. 

There’s a small huff of air from the man, his eyes looking at you full of judgment and the smallest bits of amusement. 

“Oh!” you gasp, your hands covering your mouth.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto,” he tries, his eyebrow lifting again, his lip trying perking into a smirk. “But, thanks for confirming we don’t have the same name.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you from this world at this very moment; your fists shoved into the pockets of your apron.

“Okay,” you agree, your lips pursing in your horrible, horrible attempt at masking your hurt pride. “Well, I am utterly exhausted, so I am going to leave now. Have fun with your dumb tattoo shop, Todoroki-san, I am… going to sleep.”

You turned on your heel, ready to run from this shop like the devil was hot on your heels.

“Well, see you around—” he responded, your hands pressing onto the door to leave— “Y/l/n.”

The ringing of your blood in your ears heavily outweighed his voice because you didn’t even stare at him as you continued to walk down the pathway to reenter your shop. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t look back because had you, you would’ve seen Shouto’s fingers caressing the pink petals of the flower, and his lips moved to say one thing.

“Welcome.”

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It had been a week since you had seen Shouto. The new tattoo shop seemed positively overwhelmed by new customers, countless amount of young people filing into their appointment times, and the few days he had free hours. It, fortunately, did bring you new crowds of customers. Friends and couples alike bringing in the warm spring air into your shop while they bought flowers in commemoration of their new tattoos. 

There was no stopping this, it seemed.

“Thank you for your service, please come again,” you called out after the giggling and slightly tipsy group of girls who happened to be your last customers of the day.

Today has been a good day.

You weren’t at all exhausted, in fact, you felt relatively light on your feet still despite it being 8:56 p.m. Since it was so late at night, and with the knowledge of there hardly ever being last-second customers you started cleaning up for the night. But as you grabbed the broom, the familiar bell of the entrance of the shop rang in your ears.

Sighing, you dropped the broom and turned towards the counter, “Welcome!”

The figure at the door shocked you, it was Shouto. He stood there with his fingers hooked in the loops of his black jeans, and the white v-neck did nothing to conceal anything about his tattoos or his dumb muscles. 

“Hey!” you smiled, the smile on your face as fake as the festive flowers sitting on the counter — the ironies of working at a flower shop.

“I’m looking for recommendations,” Shouto admitted, his strides stopping him before you. “It’s one of my friends' birthdays coming soon, in a few weeks. He doesn’t like getting presents, but he likes flowers. I was hoping you could help me out here.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you seeing the way that his hair falls so elegantly between his eyes. His eyes are concentrated on the pre-arranged flower arrangements demonstrated on the table as samples and you cough.

“Uh, yes, do you know any of his favorite flowers?”

“No, he’s not really that open about his interests,” Shouto admits, his shoulders shrugging,

“When do you need the arrangement?”

“His birthday is April 20,” Shouto says, a sigh on his lips while he looks up at you. “I’m not sure if there was a time requirement to request things, especially given that you work here alone.”

“I do not work here alone!” you cry, your blood sparking in a fury. “I mean, yes, right now I do, but it’s not always like this! I’m just being a good child and letting my parents have the travels of their lifetime!”

Shouto hums, his face unconvinced, but he seems a bit perplexed, “Did I do something that first night to you?”

That takes you entirely off guard, “Excuse me?”

“Well, after the first night we officially met, you have avoided me very well.”

“I-I’m very busy with this store!”

“I walked out of the store to pick up supplies while you were speaking with your own customer. I saw you run into the door, trying to make your way back indoors.”

“You saw that?!”

“A lot of my friends say I can come off coldly at first, and I know that it’s true, and I’m trying to work on it. I, myself, was exhausted that day too because we put the entire shop together in a single day, so I let myself slip up,” Shouto admits, and you can feel your face beating in time with your embarrassed pulse. Why was this so hard? “I haven’t had the time to come over since opening, so I’m trying now.”

“So the birthday thing is a fake way to get me to talk?” you asked, your lips twitching in your losing battle to keep from smirking.

“Yes and no,” he smiles softly. It almost takes you by surprise, the smile seemed too gentle, too sweet to be on the face of someone who looked like they’d murder you in an alleyway. “I’m not that incompetent to know that I have a few weeks to give until I really need to get those plans under wraps.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles in your throat, and you sigh, unbelieving of what he was doing. 

“You’re kind of weird,” you tease, untying your apron for it was now long past the store's open hours. “But since you’re not a customer, I will be asking you to leave at once.”

“But—!”

“No exceptions! I can’t be seen playing favorites, the elders will gossip,” you firmly state, moving from behind the counter to shoo him from your store.

“I want to buy a flower then,” Shouto insists, pulling out a leatherbound wallet. 

Your eyes narrow, lucky bitch.

“What flower would you like?” you ask. Your customer service smile painted on your face. 

“Do you happen to have any ajisai’s?” Shouto asks, and you think.

You did have some!

Nodding, you pointed your finger towards the pack where small bouquets of ajisai’s sat. Shouto nodded, walking over and grabbing one and making it back.

“That’ll be seven hundred yen,” you say the moment he arrives back.

“The sign said six hundred,” Shouto points out.

“You have me seven minutes over closing time, it’s my gratuity tip,” you tease, grinning when he places seven hundred yen down. You focus back on the cash register, inputting the last sale into it and fixing up the computer before returning your attention back to Shouto, who was staring at the flowers in his hands.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the flowers into your hands and walking away before you could yell at him.

The pink-tipped flowers sat in your hands, ajisai — or hydrangeas — were small and delicate flowers, but they were stunning in your eyes. Rolling your eyes, you put the flowers next to the fake festive ones and went to clean up, the small smile on your own face irreplaceable as you cleaned up.

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In the following weeks, you and Shouto had begun a strange friendship of sorts. Your breaks during your lunch and dinner times were accompanied by Shouto, who was always over at the time. The tattoo shop was doing exceptionally well, and because of that, he even had other artists there with him, and just gained an official piercer. They were a great crew, all bright and caring people who often had you laughing on the rare occasions you visited his shop. But Shouto always had his time slot blocked out during your breaks, and he would come over with snacks and opinions for the two of you to discuss.

He was definitely an odd person. He was very open about a lot of things, almost too honest. In weeks, you knew more about him than some of your own childhood friends, and you had been involved with most of their stories! Todoroki Shouto was someone to admire though, he was brilliant, a person who never failed to make you smile with his often idiotic tendencies. 

He was smart but dumber than a rock.

But as the two of you grew comfortable, there was one thing itching at the back of your mind, the one question you always had when you saw people with tattoos. 

“What do your tattoos mean?” you couldn’t help but ask, your eyes shining while looking at his arm that was poised high to deliver the cold soba noodles into his awaiting mouth. “I mean, I know there’s a lot, but one side is colorful and bold, and the other is simple and beautiful.”

Shouto finished the noodles on his chopsticks, his lips soaked with the oils on the noodles. “Do you want to know about a particular one?” he asked, resting the chopsticks down and extending his arms for you to see. 

You leaned forward on the stool you were sitting on, observing the lines that created the art on his skin. You were fascinated by both sleeves, and he had incredible artwork on both sides of his arms. There was also some hidden motif behind each side, fire versus ice… But which one to ask about first?

“Can you just tell me why you have two sleeves that are starkly different?” you asked with a curious glint of your eyes. “I mean black ink on one side versus only color? Is there a reason, or was it just something that happened by accident?”

“Oh, there’s a reason for it,” Shouto adjusted on his chair, clearing his throat while he extended his arms. “You can tell just by looking at me, but my left side is what I’ve always associated with my dad: the red hair, blue eyes. My right side is something that I connect with my mom: the white hair, grey eyes. Colored tattoos are always more painful, they tell a very exact story. There isn’t any room for argument because it is seen in one way and one way only. You can deceive, and you can hide, but the truth is there. When I got my first tattoo, I still hated my dad with everything I had, and I wanted to cover every part of my body that I could that would erase him from me. Which is my left side. And like colored tattoos, he was painful, exact, and unchanging. My right side is black ink only because things become confusing, discerning, unknown—” his fingers trace the curving lines on his right arm— “you don’t know where it starts, where it ends, but it’s ever present. It’s comforting because it can change with how you need it to change. You can have other fills in its blanks, to piece together its story, but it has distinct intentions. It’s strong and adaptable.”

You take in his words, unable to think of anything but absorb his words. There’s a soft understanding to his tattoos. Once done in defiant, spoke stories of not only who he was, but who he is today. 

“Okay, so I know I’m just a super lame florist, but what do you think about me getting a tattoo?” you asked, your teeth biting into your lower lip with your confusion and hope. “I mean, I’ve never really wanted one before, but that was because of social stigma and all, but seeing yours and your friends all the time… I’m curious.”

Shouto’s brows raise; he doesn’t say anything; however, studying your face.

“What are you thinking about in particular?” he asked his eyebrow scrunching, his head tilting to the side. “Anything at all?”

You blew a raspberry, your hands pressing to your lap, your shoulders falling to your ears.

“I like symbolic things a lot,” you admit with a shrug. “I don’t think I could ever get a sleeve tattoo, so I want it to make sense and have meaning to me. Like… I don’t know a sakura blossom, but maybe not that? I don’t know!”

Shouto laughs softly, the sound pleasant on your ears while you thrash your legs like a child. 

“Well, I think I can help you at the very least draw you something,” he suggests, a hand offered out in a deal. “I am a tattoo artist, after all.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you,” you playfully scoff, your arms folding across your chest while you shake your head. “I might doze off under the needle and wake up to a walking penis on my back!”

“A penis?” Shouto repeated, an award-winning smile gracing his face while you huff, your laughter failing at being masked.

“It’s what happened in middle school to people caught sleeping! Didn’t it happen to you?”

“Not at all.”

“Right, you rich kid middle schools were a breeding ground for far worse. What type of prepubescent hazing did your school do?”

“What makes you think there was hazing?”

“How could there not be!”

The doorbell chimes in the distance and the lively debate is over when you check the time, it was time to reopen it seems.

“I’ll figure out what you did back as a pubescent child,” you promise, watching as Shouto rises with you, his own alarm going off. “But would you really draw me a tattoo?”

Shouto nods, following you out to the entrance of the shop, “I will if you ask me to.”

Uncertainty sits in your stomach, you weren’t sure if it was something that you wanted right now, it had, after all, come up as a moment of trying to create conversation more than being an honest truth. But if it was something that Shouto drew for you, maybe you would.

“I’ll let you know if I want it,” you promise, your eyes closing with your warm smile. 

Shouto hums in agreement, his head nodding once. He seems to hesitate for a bit and ultimately walks over to where there was a gathering of flowers and picks out a single himawari. Your eyes narrow in silent teasing when he walks it over to the counter, his hands already reaching for his wallet.  

You accept the change, giving him back what you owed him, and was once again shocked to see him resting the flower in your hands. 

“For you,” he smiled, his shoulders shrugging.

“You’re so weird,” you wrinkle your nose, still accepting the flower from his fingers with a bright smile. “Thank you for the beautiful himawari.”

“Mm, you’re welcome,” Shouto nodded, slipping on the beanie he had removed upon entering the warm flower shop. “See ya later, y/l/n?”

You nod, waving as he left to which he graciously flipped the sign for you to read that you were once again open. “Bye, Todoroki-san!”

Himawari flowers, otherwise known as sunflowers, always filled you with warmth and love. A flower that is known to be a personal sun on this earth without ever once providing a shred of warmth. There was no denying that it was beautiful, but you shook your head, leaving it on the table in the hallway that leads to your home above the shop. You’d dry and press it once the day was over. 

Yes, you decided, that’s how it was going to go.

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“I always forget the wedding season is a thing! Stop looking at me like that, and please help me!”

Most people would never expect to see a community staple member who ran the flower shop to be on their hands and knees, holding onto the ankles of one of the most intimidating and newest members of the community while they begged for help. Well, to be honest, no one could even consider what you were doing to be begging. It was a full-on psycho messy bitch cry for help. 

“I said I was going to help you already, what else do you possibly need from me?” Shouto groaned, his vans clad foot trying to wiggle you loose from his ankle. “...don’t tell me.”

“Well, you know what I’m asking then!” you whine, your eyes welling with tears at Shouto’s straight face.

Your face had an array of dried petals on your face, dirt caking the undersides of your fingernails, grass, and leaves in your hair, and desperation reeking from your face. 

“My parents still aren’t back! My friends are all busy living their own lives too far away to help me properly, and you’re the only person I trust! You’re a tattoo artist, you have to have a delicate hand, right? Please help me and let me use your crew too, I promise I’ll pay!”

Shouto groans, managing to kick you free from his foot, and pulling you up to your feet so that the noisy people watching would hopefully leave. “If you want the others to help you out, you need to ask them. I’m not going to force them to do anything.”

Your eyes blow wide, excitement simmering in your cells while your hands grip onto his biceps for support, and his own hands rested on your hips. 

“Really?! You’ll let me do that?!”

Shouto breathed heavily out of his nose, took a second to recompose himself before letting that small smile appear on his face. The grateful squeal that left your lips was something that shocked him, Shouto won’t lie, but it was the hug you threw around his neck that had him stumbling. He watched in a frozen trance as you stormed into his shop, arms waving animatedly above your head while you explained your need for help to his employees. He didn’t follow you in though, choosing to instead watch you from outside the shop because it was his break right now, and he wasn’t going to be spending it inside the shop. 

You returned with a smug smirk on your face, dirt-smudged on your cheek while you nodded your head in victory. 

“Well, it looks like I have a team,” you say with a mock casualty. “I am, what the cool kids call, persuasive.”

A weird feeling floods to the tips of Shouto’s fingers at your words was this… annoyance? There was no reason for him to be annoyed that his friends would be coming over to help you. You needed the help. So what if you wouldn’t be talking to him and only him.

“Persuasive, or annoying?” Shouto tries you, and the way you focused on him in your flustered state was enough for a small chuckle to escape his lips. Before you could respond in defense to your persuasive tongue, he was already en route towards your shop. “You wasted five minutes of my break, please don’t waste the other ten.”

He wasn’t sure what made him grin more, the loud cry of “you’re an asshole, Todoroki-san,” the childish stomping coming from behind him, or the cheerful laughter that soaked your tongue at your own silly antics. But still, the grin became a soft smile when he turned to face you, the shop door in his hand while he held it for you. 

“After you.”

“Damn right, after me.”

~

“You guys are actually very good at this,” you marvel, peering over Shouto’s shoulder, watching as he and his coworkers assembled the vase of statement flowers.

Todoroki Shouto, Kaminari Denki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki.

Five equally large men, decked out in tattoos and piercings, with a punk look to them sat pinched together on tables meant to hold more than five men dainty arranging soft pinks and white-colored flowers with your princess pop music blaring in the background. It was very different to how they were in their shop, but it amused you to see them like this.

They were a group of childhood friends who apparently all had the same dream and worked together to make this tattoo shop. Shouto, being the most wealthy of them, had been the name signed on all the papers, explaining the reasons why he was the one you had first met those many nights ago. 

But with five different weddings coming up at the moment, you were more stressed about getting these things done and fast. The good thing, however, was that it seemed most of them were striving perfectionists. 

Shouto, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Shinsou were all on top of it, having only needing you to explain the arrangements once for them to get it. Kaminari took two tries, but he was also very, very social, and took his time. They were a bizarre dynamic, but it was something you enjoyed.

“Damn right we are, this shit is so fucking easy,” Bakugou responded back, shoving yet another completed arrangement your way. “And why are you just fucking staring at us? Why aren’t you helping?”

You hummed, grabbing the completed vase, and placing it with the others from this particular wedding. “Because I already met my quota, and I can’t pull out the other arrangement until you guys are done.”

“Oh, there’s another one?” Midoriya asked, handing you a completed vase.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind!” you feel your face heating while they were finishing up their final vases, Bakugou snatching some of Kaminari since he had more leftover. “I just didn’t expect you guys to haul these so quickly! And well, there’s just one left I have to do!”

“We are amazing,” Kaminari says, twirling a stem of baby’s-breath in his fingers. “I can see why you were so eager to sign us to your shop. “I make perfect commentary, Shinsou has that calming effect, Deku is sweet and kind, Shouto is obviously the closest to you, and Bakugou.”

You blinked, as did everyone else, staring at the blond who wove the baby’s-breath into the arrangement with a soft touch. Wasn’t he going to finish that sentence?

“And I what?” Bakugou growls, his ears tinging red with his annoyance.

“Hm?” Kaminari perks his eyebrows, his gaze lazily resting on the ash blond. “Oh, no, that was it!”

There was a loud screech of the chair against the floor, and Midoriya was holding back Bakugou while Kaminari screeched, hiding behind Shinsou.

“Here you go,” Shouto sighed, handing you the prior arrangement for this wedding batch. 

“Thank you,” you smile gratefully, the sounds of the raging war between Bakugou and Kaminari fading into background noise while you hold Shouto’s gaze. “For all of this too, you guys are keeping me from a countless amount of all-nighters.”

“Well, as long as they don’t wreck your shop, then I guess the payment will be okay,” Shouto sighed, not bothering to even look at how Midoriya was losing ground on keeping Bakugou back.

“As long as there isn’t any blood or teeth on the floor, I’ll give it to ya,” you grin, gesturing with your head for him to follow you.

While you and Shouto had gone to get the final wedding arrangements, Shinsou had managed to get Bakugou to calm down and sit. This arrangement was simple, and there were only twelve of them you needed to make, and before you knew it, everyone was leaving, waving as they went. Only Shouto stayed behind, helping you put away the chairs and the tables, while also setting the flowers into the freezer until they would be collected.

It was almost midnight by the time the two of you had cleaned up the shop, and Shouto leaned against the counter while you sprawled onto the floor, exhausted. 

“I think,” you mumble, exhaustion fluttering through you. “I think Imma just, sleep here.”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Shouto sighs, walking over to you. “You’re bordering disgusting right now, and you need to shower before sleeping.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone right now,” you point your finger at him definitely. “I think I can become one with the ground right now.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Shouto decided, pulling you up to your feet. Something that made you groan and press your forehead to his chest when you got you up. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your stairs.”

Snorting, you shake your head, pushing him away, “No, it’s okay, I was just being annoying. Besides, I need to lock up down here once you leave.”

Shouto frowns, but he doesn’t move to argue with that, because it was true. 

“I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” you insist, smiling sweetly up at the man who was wearing one of your bandanas. 

“Okay,” Shouto finally agreed, moving towards the door.

When you got to the door, ready to see him out, Shouto paused. 

He turned to you, his head tilting, and your lips parted to question him, but before any words could fall from your tongue, he raised his hand.

In his hand, he rested a pink arusutoromeria. It was most definitely a leftover from one of the arrangements statement flowers, but it sat daintily in his hand. Under the moonlight, it was almost ethereal in his hold, and you felt a small warmth build in your cheeks.

“That’s called stealing from my clients, ya know,” you tease, the exhaustion in you dying the moment you took the flower from his hand. “I’m going to have to take this out of your paycheck.”

“Don’t pay me,” Shouto insisted softly, his lips peeking into a half-smile. “I would’ve helped, even if you hadn’t asked.”

“That’s ridiculous, I wouldn’t have let you,” you shove his arm, but he went unmoved. His two-colored eyes shining in mirth while continuing to stare at you. 

“I know,” he whispers, his gaze holding yours. “Goodnight, y/l/n.”

“Goodnight, Todoroki-san.”

Shouto licked his lips, his face wincing just the smallest bit before shaking his head, “I think you can drop the formality, we’re passed that.”

You didn’t have time to react, only whispering his last name while he exited your shop into the nighttime. But you looked down at the arusutoromeria, otherwise known as the Alstroemeria Peruvian lily. The peachy and pink waxy petals smooth under your fingertip, but it made your heart warm.

Shouto really did pick the most beautiful flowers.

But why was it always for you?

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Four ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“The shop isn’t open today, Todoroki-chan!”

Shouto turned around to see two elders watching him while he had failed to open your shop’s doors.

“Oh, thank you,” he thanked them, bowing in greetings. “Do you know why? Y/l/n didn’t mention anything yesterday?”

“We do, actually! The park hosts the summertime festival, and they’re in charge of the floral arrangements you see going on there! Y/l/n might be there right now!”

Shouto nodded, the banners that had been advertising for the said festival had been up for the past two weeks.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the two elders to themselves before returning to his own shop.

Today was a busy day, and since he wasn’t going to have time to spend his break with you, he decided he’d just move on to his latest client. Ignoring the questionative and gossiping look of Kaminari, he called on the girl who was here for her last touch up.

He’d go and see you when you returned. 

It was three in the morning when you were finally back at your shop. Festivals were indeed something of exhaustion. You spent six hours putting up flowers all over people's booths and stalls in order for things to look beautiful. Then when the festival began at three in the afternoon, you’d be in your own booth handing out single roses, lilies, and tulips to lovers, friends, and family who wanted to cheer others up.

Flower sales have always confused you. Flowers, after all, were almost pointless since most of them were bought without the roots and soil. You were gifting something that was on the verge of death that wouldn’t last longer than twenty-one days if you were lucky. But you couldn’t complain, on the other hand. The people’s faces that exploded with affection and love after receiving the flowers made it worth knowing that these dying presents had meaning to them.

But festivals by yourself were hell. 

Restocking the flowers, handling the money, trying to give out the flowers all by yourself had proven to be a handful. This was at the least a two-person job, and with your parents still not returning anytime soon, it was hard. You couldn’t ask anyone to help you because everyone you knew who would accept your money to work had to work until late today too.

But you had survived, as you had been for the past few months. So when you tiredly stabbed your key into the air, trying your best to get it into the lock, a sudden noise scared you.

Turning towards the sound, your tired eyes widened upon seeing Shouto walking out with a young woman next to him. She was tall, grand, and even with your tired, dried out, and blurry eyes, you could tell she was beautiful. You saw the way that politely and effortlessly giggled, her dark eyes warm and sweet while she talked to Shouto.

And Shouto, how you had entirely missed him today. But he was obviously enraptured by this woman, his facial features looking kind and sweet while they talked.

A weird feeling tightened in your stomach, what the hell was that? You blinked multiple times, your head muggy and far too foggy for your liking. This wasn’t your business, you thought, finally succeeding in opening your shop door. But with a strong pull of the wagon you had, you watched in horror as the top bins clattered to the floor.

You hauled the wagon in, desperate to get out there and get the remaining fallen items off the floor. You thought having eaten only breakfast today would have rendered you unable to be as stupidly strong as you were at that moment. But as you went to pick up the boxes, you saw Shouto approaching you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Oh, hey, Todoroki!” you laugh, trying to lift the boxes, but you were failing at it. “I didn’t see you all day, how are you?”

Shouto shrugged, his lower lips jutting out slightly too. 

“Good, I didn’t realize you were working for the festival, all day at that,” he admitted while moving to help you. “How’d it go.”

“Well,” you think about it, watching your friend take the boxes from your hands and holding them with ease despite your own fumbling. “I, um… it was hard.”

Shouto listened to you while you explained how you handled your booth on your own. How this was one of the busiest festivals your city hosted and how you hadn’t had time to relax since the festival began at three. He listened to you without making any input of his own, the occasional chuckle from hearing about entitled customers, or customers who thought buying a red rose for someone they were going to break up with was a bad idea. 

Cleaning up with Shouto with you was relaxing and welcoming, his presence was always one you received, and after a long day, it was sweet and soft. 

But while in his explanation as to who the lady — Yaoyorozu Momo, as he named her — was doing at his shop so late, your stomach wailed in hunger. Your face burned in embarrassment, your appetite finally remaking its appearance. 

Shouto chuckled, finding glee in your horror before nodding towards the hallway that leads to the staircase of your home. He had been up there a handful of times now, and he smirked, “I’ll make you something since we didn’t eat together today.”

“How can I trust you’re a good chef,” you ask, despite already making your way to the upper level of the shop, ready to stay up even longer with Shouto.

The next hour is spent with the two of you eating and talking. The conversation between the two of you is light and flowing smoothly. You’re on the couch with him, a blanket on your laps while you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Tell me about your tattoos,” you mumble, your exhausted body feeling warm and safe against his right side. 

“Which one?” he asked, shifting his left arm towards you so that way you could continue resting on him.

“Any,” you sigh, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “They’re all beautiful.”

So he does.

Shouto tells you about the special ones first. The fire on his left wrist, the ice on the right. They were his first tattoos, something he had associated with himself since he could remember, but a symbol of how they were both significant parts, equal in their fury, but gentle, beautiful, and healing when needed. He had dizzying patterns on his right side, something he had always acquitted to being his more assertive side. The designs were distinctive and almost dizzying to look at, but each pattern he had drawn, each twist and turn meaning something. The black ink was daunting, powerful, and reserved. He even admitted to letting his friends color in the spaces where you could still see his pale flesh, it was something that he enjoyed because even being as old as he was, the childlike entertainment never left when someone did it.

His left side was stunning though, every color in the rainbow melting and mixing on his skin. This side was artistic, bold, a creation of vibrant dreams, and they warmed you up while he explained every secret behind them. He was scary on this side if you couldn’t find the outlines of each clashing drawing, but up close, with your breath gently warming his skin while you peered at his skin, you realized just how gentle it really was. It wasn’t scary or overwhelming. It was quiet, warm, and a soft gesture to who he used to be, and who he was now.

The two of you were close friends, nothing could ever say otherwise, but as the two of you lay on the couch together, you positioned between his legs, your head laying on his chest. Sleep was a mere kiss away when you snuggled into his chest, your finger pressing against the t-shirt he wore.

“I think I’m ready… for you to draw me up a tattoo… do you think you can surprise me, though? I have no ideas…” you mumbled into his chest.

“Of course,” Shouto responded back, and before you could blink, the world turned dark, sleep consuming you in a gentle embrace. 

You weren’t sure if you imagined the feel of his soft lips on your forehead, but when you woke up the next morning, you were alone. The blanket was tucked around you, pillows resting under your head, and a flower sat on the coffee table before you.

A kaneshon.

A carnation.

Your cheeks warmed at the sight of it, knowing immediately that it was left behind by Shouto. Grabbing the flower within your fingers, you pressed the sweet-smelling flower to your nose. If he continued doing this, there was no stopping the way you felt towards him.

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Two weeks later.

“So, what do you think of this?”

You were sitting in Shouto’s private room where he had his tattoo appointments, you were by the wall, sitting on a stool by a desk where he was showing off his tattoo design for you. It was stunning; honestly, it had everything in the world that you could be asking for.

Simple, elegant, and sophisticated.

It fit your personality, hopes, and dreams. 

It was perfect. 

“Wow,” you barely managed to breathe, your fingers touching the sketch he had presented to you. Was feeling it okay? You hoped so.

“Do you… do you like it?” Shouto asked, his eyes trying to read your face, but failed to see how you reacted because he was behind you.

“This is amazing, Todoroki,” you shake your head, pulling back to stare at your friend with a great smile. “I mean, I know I said I wanted you to draw me one, but I wasn’t expecting you to make it so… personalized to me.”

“...you’re special to me,” Shouto admitted, his body both relaxing and tensing under your gaze. “I had to make this special for you.”

“Well, you sure did!” you agree with a laugh, your cheeks warm with your grin. “But how much will this be?”

“4,000 yen,” Shouto answered with a straight face.

You laughed in his face, remembering that all their starting prices were much more than that, “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. How much?”

“I wasn’t lying,” Shouto confirms, his gaze unwavering. “I like you a lot, and you mean a lot to me, so I’m giving you a discount.”

Your jaw drops, you’re unable to speak, words failing you with every breath. “A discount, not a free tattoo.”

“It’s not free, I’m still making you pay.”

“Yeah, and even I know that price is absurd!”

The two of you argue for some time, the money you throw down on his desk is immediately slammed back into your wallet. You feel close to victory; that is, until Shouto threatens to make your tattoo actually free. To that, your lips twist, a defeated look in your eyes while you huff.

“Fine,” you spat, turning around ready to leave the shop, given that your break was nearing its end. 

“Y/n,” he calls out suddenly, and the way that your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver. He had started to call you by your given name as of late, and to hear his warm and deep voice say your name made you wonder why you two hadn’t done this earlier. After all, the two of you were too close. 

“Shouto?”

He looks ready to speak, his tongue wetting his lips while he stares at you, unsure what to say to what to do.

“What did you think of the kaneshon?”

Two weeks later and he had finally spoken about the flower he had left behind.

“It was beautiful, I loved it,” you smiled in return, but you didn’t miss the way that his eyes seemed to cloud at those words. Obviously, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but what was it that he wanted? “Another flower to add to my collection.”

Shouto’s lips quirk into a smile, and you watch while he reaches behind his bench and pulls out a tsubaki. You’re silent as he walks it over to you, pressing the gentle stem into your hand.

“For you,” he whispers, and you can feel your heart hammering in your ears at how close he is. The dim lights of his room, the smell of ink, bleach, and, most importantly, Shouto sending your blood into a craze. 

Kiss him, your brain told you, but you were frozen, too busy counting the number of eyelashes he had. 

“You didn’t buy this from me, what are you doing helping my competition?” were the words that came to your mouth instead of the confession you so wanted to give.

“No,” Shouto laughs softly, and he adjusts his position almost to give you dizzying fantasies of him kissing you. “I’m growing them, actually.”

“Oh, so you’re my competition,” you tease, and Shouto sighs, his eyes rolling and nods.

“Yeah, the tattoo shop was a decoy to us becoming the best flower shop in all of Japan.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“Oh, you should.”

There was no denying the fact that the distance between your bartering lips was disappearing, but the shrill beep of your alarm destroyed the space between the two of you as you stepped away. You had an appointment to get to after all.

“Um, dinner?” you ask, stumbling to the door. “Sounds good?”

Shouto nods, his lips in a small smile, “See you then.”

With the camellia clenched tightly into your hands, your blood boiling in your destroyed passions, and the sounds of the others saying goodbye while you left, you felt weird when entering your flower shop, one thought running repetitively in your mind. 

You had feelings for Shouto.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ Six ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You twirled the akaichurippu in your fingers.

It had been two months since you worked out you had feelings for Shouto, one week since he had given you this flower, six days since he started avoiding you, and two days since your parents had finally returned home.

With the three of you now running the shop, you were able to relax a whole bunch more. Your parents had returned on a honeymoon mode, their gazes wistful and in love, finding it almost hard to readjust to the life they had left behind for a year. It had been a year since you had met Todoroki Shouto, and you were baffling in love with him. But you had done something obviously because he was avoiding you like the plague.

He hadn’t been over in six days, and they had been such lonely days without him. Of course, once your parents had come home, it had been grossly lively with their romantic sighs and glees, but it didn’t do much to qualm the Shouto sized hole in you. 

Stupid Shouto, stupid feelings, stupid everything.

Tossing the flower onto the counter, you sat up from your slumped state, watching as your dad swung your mom in a circle. Stupid parents with their stupid love, you bitterly added while puffing out your cheeks.

“Wow, what’s that look for!” your dad caught on immediately, staring at your unamused form. He trailed his gaze down to the red akaichurippu, otherwise known as the red tulip, while your mother stood up herself.

There was a shocked gasp coming from them both, and you watched as your parents approached the counter like excited children, the flower being picked up by your mother.

“Who gave you this?!” your mother asked, her eyes sparkling in glee, and your dad seemed conflicted in the same delight, and distinctive stern dad look. 

“Shouto,” you sighed, your eyes rolling.

“The one that’s ignoring you?”

“The very same!”

“That’s strange,” your dad’s eyebrows furrowed, his head tilting. “He’s just next door, and he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon… why is he ignoring you after giving you the eternal love flower?”

You froze.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“The red akaichurippu flower is the symbol of eternal love,” your mom explained as if it was basic knowledge. “They’re much more romantic than a boring red rose, in my opinion. You’re also a florist y/n, why don’t you know these meanings or intentions?”

“Oh my god,” you said in horror, and you stood up, racing upstairs to grab the flowers you had dried and pressed. The flowers he had given you throughout this year.

Your parents were shocked when you slammed down the book with flowers, your fingers shaking excessively.

“What do these mean,” you demand, your fingers shaking while you point at the different flowers.

“Ajisai: apologies and gratitude.”

“Himawari: adoration, loyalty, and longevity.”

“Arusutoromeria: devotion, loyalty, ‘I like you,’ friendship.”

“Pink kaneshon: affection.”

“Tsubaki: humility, discretion, and perfect love.”

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

Red akaichurippu: eternal love.

“I have to go!” you yelled, racing out of the store, the ringing bell and following shouts of your parents doing nothing as you ran into the tattoo shop.

“Shinsou!” you called at the purple-haired man who was staffing the front desk, obviously having no scheduled appointments today. “Is Shouto—?”

“No, he’s taking his break right now,” Shinsou smirked, his eyes full of amusement, which spoke to his knowledge of what was going on. “You can go in.”

You smiled and went down the hallways of the tattoo shop that you knew intimately. You could hear the buzzing of the tattoo guns going off in Bakugou and Midoriya’s rooms, the light chatter that came with passing Kaminari’s room until you made it to Shouto’s room.

It was quiet inside, and as you opened the door to step inside, the flower in your hand feeling heavier than lead when you saw Shouto sitting at his desk, eating cold soba slowly.

“Shouto?” you called, and Shouto didn’t move, obviously ignoring you. 

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” you plead, moving towards the bench only to have him turn towards you, his eyes blank, cold, angry, and burning through you when he faced you. So maybe he wasn’t ignoring you? “Okay, uh, thank you for looking at me, but I need to explain something to you!”

“Make it quick, my break’s done in two minutes.”

A cold sweat erupts in your body, and you thrust the red tulip out.

“Eternal love,” you say quickly, your body shivering at that statement, and Shouto looks at you, then at the flower, then back at you. 

“Yeah, I knew that already, idiot.”

Your jaw drops, and the smallest bits of annoyance pricks at you. You often forgot what it was like to be under his calculating words and not being at his side, laughing at the victims of his words. 

“Okay, well, I didn’t,” you continue on, your fists dropping at your side, annoyance, fear, happiness, and love flooding through your body. “I’m a florist, I know that. I have lived my life as the child of florists, and I have taken on their trade, but one thing I never knew about was flower meanings.”

“What?”

You shake your head, your gaze dropping to the flower in your embarrassment, “I’ve never known any flower meaning outside of funeral flowers, the red rose, and spider lilies, but that’s because of the culture behind it, not necessarily because of the language of flowers. And I was mad at you today, so I had this flower out, and my parents who do know about flower language told me what this meant, and every other flower you’ve bought for me… I didn’t realize you were confessing to me using flowers… I didn’t ever expect a tattoo artist to know the meanings! Had you been a florist yourself, then maybe I would have thought to look up the meanings behind the flowers, but I just assumed it was you picking flowers out because they were pretty.”

“Flower tattoos are popular,” Shouto breathes, his eyes swimming with flashing emotions while he rises to his feet. “It’s sort of my job to know the difference. I mean… you brought over peonies that first night, and they’re a flower you use to welcome other people, so I figured you knew.”

“No,” you laugh breathlessly. “I only picked those out because they were the only flowers I had leftover from that day… I guess you would make an amazing florist after all,” you chuckle, your heart hammering in your whole being while he stepped closer to you. “I’m a blunt person, straightforward confessions are the only way to deal with me.”

“Most blunt confessions have always ended with rejection from me,” Shouto states, his fingers grabbing onto your waist. “That tends to scare people off.”

“Try it with me,” you whisper, your fingers resting on his broad shoulders, the shiver under your skin electrifying as you knew what was happening.

“I’m in love with you, y/l/n y/n,” Shouto grinned, and you didn’t give yourself a chance at responding because you slammed your lips against his.

It was a passionate kiss, one that had your back arched into him, the flower falling from your fingers and onto the floor. Heads tilted with your dancing lips, and fuck was every gentle caress of his lips, sending your mind in a whirl.

More and more, your lips slanted against each other, and there was no say as to what was going to happen next. You pulled away, a galaxy in both your eyes and a desire, a promise for more when he would meet your lips again.

“Shouto, your three o’clock is here!”

The two of you froze, and you laughed, your lips meeting his that sought after yours for the kiss was too short.

“We’ll talk later.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader

[myelocin]

The Gratitude in Endings | Miya Atsumu, You, Kuroo Tetsurou

Synopsis: What follows endings always were the most beautiful things. In this case, after Kuroo Tetsurou, came Miya Atsumu--and for you, nothing could truly be better. 

**This is the epilogue to Redefining You (Part 1) and  To Us, A Love Story Unwritten (Part 2)! 

Characters: Miya Atsumu, You Kuroo Tetsurou

Genre/Tags/Warnings: No warnings! Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Bestfriend!Kuroo, Reader/Atsumu, Kinda a love triangle i guess lol

WC: 2.8k+

a/n: i,,,, have not let go of this AU and will probably not let go until a long time. i’m planning on writing drabbles in this certain AU soon, but for now enjoy this epilogue!

-

You suppose happy endings is the sort of cliché you’ve been wanting to avoid this whole time. After all, you’re still only in your late twenties and even if you’ve crossed some things off of your bucket list—there were still pages you’ve yet to even flip through.

Life, to you, is a constant work in progress; all you’ve known were only beginnings but the reality is there is still never an end. From the second you opened your eyes and sucked in your first breath of air, day by day you continue to leave a mark in the world.

The stories you’ve scribbled in paper, the secrets you’ve whispered to willing ears, photographs of your claim in that snapshot of the world, and the connections you’ve made—those are the things that last and remain even after you’ve gone to cross new horizons.

Life—much like yourself will always just be a work in progress.

Whether it be the ink on your skin that’s yet to be connected to another work of art or waking up to a new morning wondering how differently Atsumu’s hair will look curled around your fingers this time.

Every day that you spent watching the sun rising and setting in his eyes never failed to leave you breathless.

-

It shouldn’t have surprised you when Atsumu adjusted himself with the beat of your life quite naturally. After reconnecting in the airport, Tetsurou didn’t even have to sit you down to talk to you about his reappearance in your life.

Literally, after Bokuto landed, he left the airport that day without you and texted you that this was your chance to go home with, as Tetsurou said in verbatim, your “long lost love.”

According to him, after showing up in your weekly dinners at Kenma with Atsumu trailing behind you—that it was all part of his plan for he was the best wing man you could ever ask for.

After that self-proclamation, you and Kenma responded to his statement by simultaneously rolling your eyes. Atsumu, beside you, was apparently polite enough to laugh. Tetsurou was quick to stride over to him, clap him on the back of the shoulder and declare, “You both suck, but at least Miya-san has enough taste to recognize my genius work.”

“Please,” Atsumu laughed and clapped Tetsurou on the shoulder, “Atsumu is just fine.” From your place in the table, you smiled at Atsumu beaming up at Tetsurou, with your best friend returning the same energy.

“I think they’ll get along.” Kenma says and you smile, feeling your heart swell.

“They will,” you reply, and in return Kenma smiles because the both of you truly believe your words.

-

There were still moments you see Tetsurou break down. Eventually the ink climbs up higher and higher on his shoulders until you eventually see it peeking above the collar of his shirts. You have half the mind to ask, but at the same time, when Atsumu drapes his hands over your shoulders and you spot Tetsurou look away and bark out another joke—you decide against it.

“Are you happy?” Tetsurou asked you one day and you could almost laugh at how ironic the setting was. The two of you, along with Kenma had gone with Atsumu and the rest of MSBY in their team trip to a lake house ways from the city.

He asked that question when you joined him on the balcony one morning, a mug of coffee outstretched in offering to him. If it wasn’t for the morning fog clouding your hazy thoughts, you figured you would have caught on a lot quicker than you did—but at the moment, all you could think about was how warm Atsumu’s jacket was wrapped around you and how the roots of his natural hair were starting to peek through from what you observed earlier that morning.

Tetsurou smiled a thank you at the mug of coffee you offered him and motioned for you to take a seat next to him. He doesn’t ask the question again, but you spend the next few minutes of silence mulling about how the morning air brought bouts of nostalgia.

“I’m really happy, Tetsu.” You say and look at him, and you suddenly feel a little choked up. You blame the cold air for the blur in your eyes because when he smiles and wraps the blanket around him tighter while taking slow sips of his coffee you suddenly remember the moment you fell in love with him all those years ago.

In the solitude of the early hours, you’re brought back to the world from more than ten years ago and see the boy who spent his mornings with you through the pixilation of a computer screen. Your heart still beats with a fondness only attributed for him, but you suppose even the rhythm doesn’t flow the same way—you still love him.

And when he opens his eyes, red and teary and cheeks flushed, the fondness in his voice is as familiar as it had always been, “I’m glad, (y/n).”

You sniffle because even if you only exchanged the minimal words, you know the both of you understood everything lingering in the unspoken.

“Are you happy though?” you ask and knock your shoulder against his.

“I am, for you, I always am happy.” He says and laughs when you smack his shoulder a little harder this time in retort. “I meant you, dumbass. Are you happy?”

He laughs, sniffling and turning away from you.

“I love you.” He says, and before you could voice out your confusion he turns to you with a teasing glint in his eyes, “I began to tell myself that every day.”

You roll your eyes remembering your words from the balcony that one night. “Oh god, don’t just quote me.”

“I mean it!” he says and laughs along with you.

You think the two of you must look a little silly, crying at seven in the morning and laughing over your heartaches you endured some years ago, but your relationship with Tetsurou ran deeper than the norm, so you guess you don’t mind.

“Tetsu, I really want you to be happy.” You finally say, and you hope the softness in your tone reaches him.

Tetsurou looks at you in the way that’s sincere because he sighs into the air with a smile and wraps a hand around your shoulder—pulling you in for a half hug. You set your mug down to the side and wrap your own arms around his frame, burying your face in his chest.

He feels warm and you don’t come to mind his chin resting on top of your head.

“Happiness is a work in progress, I’ll get there in time. But I’m always facing to walk in that direction.”

“Promise?” you ask, and he pulls from you to look you straight in the eye.

Though before he opened his mouth to reply, the finality in his eyes quelled your worries.

He didn’t need to say promise because you were more than sure he was going to get there.

-

Miya Atsumu was someone who came into your life in a whirlwind of all the things you considered to be the most beautiful.

He’s a human being; far from perfection just as you were, but then again, the word perfection had always been subjective. Not a day passed by where you didn’t tell him thank you for always being patient. He dealt with his demons just as you had but like the certainty of those very demons coming and going in your life, the grip in his hand holding yours was just as steadfast and un moving.

Atsumu would be the one to tell you to bite your hand and push through it when you had no other option but walk through hell itself, but also in contrast, he would be the one to lay with you in the silence and rub circles on your back telling you to cry out whatever was hurting you.

He’d crack a couple jokes in between your sobs, and kiss your eyelids despite you telling him no and that your tears will taste gross.

You, on the other hand was always the one he came home to and your arms being opened was a constant whether he celebrated a victory or a loss.

Whether he’d cry because his service ace was the winning point, or cry because he felt second best, time and time again Atsumu would tell you his thank you for the presence through it all.

And when he tells you an I love you every day with the sun rising and setting as the witness, you know he means it just as he knows the sincerity he’s always found the comfort in with yours.

“Are you happy?” he asked you on your third year together and you could almost laugh at the parallels you’re begging to see with the conversation you had with Tetsurou some time ago.

“Really happy.” You reply and lace your fingers through his.

“With me?” he asks and smiles when you swing your joined hands back and forth. “With us.” You reply and lean forward to kiss his cheek.

Atsumu laughs and tugs you to walk with him ankle deep in the water. “This kinda feels familiar,” he comments and you laugh because it does. You mean it’s familiar because déjà vu is nudging at you and also because the both of you had found yourselves in a quiet stretch of beach along the coasts of Okinawa.

It wasn’t Siargao in the Philippines this time, and you could understand the distant chatter of Japanese in the background opposed to the dialect spoken in the Philippines those years ago, but it was the light of the setting sun peaking in Atsumu’s eyes that had you grinning ear to ear because this was your favorite part of the day.

When the both of you are a little over ankle deep in the water Atsumu releases your hand and points to the horizon on the western side of the world.

You turn and smile because he’s pointing to the sunset. Closing your eyes you, breathe in and breathe out—then smile because it wasn’t shaky. Briefly, you think of Tetsurou and what he could be doing this time in Tokyo—and smile again because he’s probably over at Kenma’s for movie night yelling into a TV and chucking popcorn in the air. You think about the new dating app he downloaded on his phone that he showed you the other day and chuckle to yourself in a way that had you feeling giddy. He was putting himself back out there and for that, you were always happy for him.

And so when you open your eyes and look at the western horizon, you shift your body to turn to Atsumu; you prefer looking at the setting sun’s painting from his eyes, anyway.

But you stop in your tracks because he’s grinning at you and then biting his lip in nervousness. You laugh, automatically choked up because he’s down on one knee with a ring in his hand.

“(Y/n),” he begins, but you don’t let him finish because as you’re staring into his eyes and see the sparks of orange and red reflected you’re suddenly throwing your arms on his shoulder and kneeling down with him.

“W-wait!” he protests, but laughs along with you, “—for god’s sake let me propose properly.”

You continue to laugh, even as you feel streams of tears rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from him you grab his face in between your hands and wipe the tears rolling down his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, but you know it’s not much of a question because he doesn’t wait for you to answer since he’s kissing the palm of your hand and sliding the ring on your finger before you open your mouth to speak.

“I had a whole speech prepared,” Atsumu whines, sniffling when you laugh at him and hold his face in between your hands again.

You could cry because it truly does feel like déjà vu, because the sunset reflected in his eyes look just like that very sunset you could still remember on that day you fell in love with him all those years ago.

The water in Okinawa is not as warm as the water in the Philippines, and the water soaking your dress is a little uncomfortable like the sand digging in your knees, but with Atsumu being in front of you crying along to the comments you’re sharing back and forth with him—you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

“You know if I closed my eyes and this playlist wasn’t shitty, I could just pretend this our wedding.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a comment and let out a laugh instead. “Atsumu was in charge of the playlist. I told him to make the vibe uniform but he probably ignored everything after Atsumu make the playlist.”

Tetsurou snickers and squeezes your hand in his, while the other that’s resting on the back of your waist pulls you along to the sway of the music. You smile and lightly knock his chest with your hand that’s resting on his chest.

“Don’t tell him I’m trashing your wedding music.”

“He’ll laugh along with you,” you reply softly.

“Oi, Tetsurou!” Atsumu calls from the background; the two of you turn to face him, you greeting him with a slight wave and a wink while Tetsurou opts to shoot him a thumbs up and a smile.

“Stop tryin’ to steal my wife.”

Tetsurou laughs at your husband’s halfhearted warning, “She’s not really my type!”

“Damn straight.” Atsumu laughs, then turns towards the conversation he was having with Osamu.

“Why did it feel like my husband is trying to devalue me?” You snort and Tetsurou laughs because he knows you’re only joking.

“He trusts you and knows he can’t get rid of me that’s why.”

“Fair point,” you smile, agreeing.

“Hey Tetsu,” you say slowly, looking at him. He hums in response and looks at you with a smile mirroring your own.

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t ask you what you mean by the thank you and you smile in appreciation because you know the message was delivered without a hitch. So the two of you continue to dance in circles, with Tetsurou snorting every time the music in Atsumu’s playlist got progressively more “country” as he dubbed it.

“We should write a book about this someday.” You quip and he nods, “Hell yeah, as long as I’m written as a super buff guy.”

Thank you for being my first love.

“I mean sure,” you reply, “but when Atsumu comes into the story he’s obviously more buff. It’s just canon like that.” Tetsurou huffs, turning his head away in exaggeration.

Thank you for breaking my heart but still leaving breakfast for me that morning.

“My character needs to have some really cool quotes though,” Tetsurou negotiates and you laugh out a sure, what do you got, before he replies, “If your goals don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.” You throw your head back and laugh. “That doesn’t even make sense, but sure, we can work that in.”

Thank you for being my best friend above everything that’s happened. Thank you for accepting Atsumu.

“Wait I have another quote,” he offers and you nod for him to continue. Tetsurou smiles at you, his eyes dazzling under the night sky’s stars and the venue’s fairy lights. “He loved her enough to let her go.”

You fall silent and the urge to suddenly cry hits you. Tetsurou smiles and spins you around until you’re face to face with Atsumu, who’s staring at you with a knowing and gentle smile from across the room.

You turn to face him and the tears well up even more at the feeling of déjà vu gnawing at your chest. It doesn’t hurt in a bad way because you know the both of you are heading in the right direction this time. Tetsurou smiles and tells you, “Love you, dumbass.” before you feel Atsumu’s hand take yours.

“I’m proud of the both of you.” Atsumu whispers, kissing the corner of your temple.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the protective husband?” you laugh.

“I know he’s a special person in your life, and I’m thankful for him everyday too because him being dumb enough not to love you led to us.” Atsumu replies, laughing along with you.

“Tsumu!”

“Kiddin.”

Resting your cheek on Atsumu’s shoulder, the two of you continue to move in slower circles. You meet Tetsurou’s gaze from your spot in the room and smile when he flashes you a thumbs up.

Thank you, Tetsurou thinks when he feels déjà vu nudging his heart. The dull of his heart thrumming doesn’t ache this time so he smiles towards you again and thinks of the baby’s breath tattoo he got the night inked on the left side of his chest.

When you turn and Atsumu meets his gaze, he gives the blonde a solid nod and another thumbs up.

Thank you for letting me love and let you go, (y/n).

 -

#haikyuucreations #haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #hq x reader fluff #haikyuu fl #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou imagines #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader angst #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou scenarios #nekoma #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader fluff

[j45uk3]

이희승 - [THIRD]

genre: angst??

Characters: lee heeseung & gender!neutral oc

wc: 2k

synopsis: lee he-san, your best friend (who apparently is your crush) dies in a car accident. then one day, you see him across the street, is that him? Blinded by euphoria, you live the next few months happily. But then a secret lies between his identity, is this really lee he-san, the person you once knew or is it..

His twin brother, Lee Heeseung? 

others: mention of death, everything is fictional-remember that juseyo <3, extremely rushed ngl i had no idea what i was typing but ok-

i survived five whole years without him.

am i proud of that? no. of course not. can you even imagine walking inside your school greeted by looks of pity? and when you sit down everywhere you look something just feels missing? you would think to yourself, he would probably be here eating, he’s most likely to be here around this time. he would be here WITH ME laughing and having the times of our lives in this place. what hurts the most is when you look beside you and you see an empty chair filled with withering flowers and his picture. 

his picture YOU took.

five years? Without him, it felt like five decades. You would look into the mirror and see yourself aging, not only mentally but physically. the dark pits under you eyes would become more visible and the color of your skin fading oh ever so slowly. finding yourself five minutes outside your house and you already feel like your dying of the cold. you were lifeless. 

but then here he is, right in front of you. Clueless as ever, wearing the black leather jacket you gave him for his birthday. 

“h-he-san?” you managed a whisper despite your crippling mental state.

his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted, a look of worry spreading across his face. is this girl ok? his eyes said. and the answer to that? yes, you were walking on Cloud 9, you wouldn’t care for the world if you were to die right now at this moment as long as you saw him again. and he is here, again. 

is this a dream? Is this guy seriously he-san? reaching your hand forward (you knew it was creepy, but euphoria made you blind to anything at the moment) tears gathered on your eyes. Creeped out to the bone, the guy halted and grabbed your wrist - making you feel as delighted as ever. he is real! and his tight grip didn't even stop you from hugging him oh so tight he might even die right after he just showed up to you, not dead. 

Then the most surprising thing came out of his mouth,

“Hey, y/n” 

you froze on the spot not knowing what to say or do. Your best friends death ruined your entire life to the core. Yet seeing him here, saying your name made everything feel all cupcakes and rainbows. He’s alive, he remembers you, he remembers your name. Everything. The color on your face seemed to pop out of nowhere and you hugged him even tighter earning a laugh from him as his long arms hugged you back.

“I-im so glad you’re alive”

“Me too?” 

Chuckling, you two never seemed to let go. 

Months passed by and as expected he astonished everyone at his sudden reappearance, but not everything goes right in life, does it? He knew you loved watching any kind of drama and right after you saw him a list suddenly formed inside your mind. 

if the person, now reincarnated but reported to be dead, comes back to you drama cliches: 

First, either doesn’t remember you, or anything at all.

That’s crossed out from the list since he really remembers me, and... anything else.

Second, came back a complete psychopath or simply wasn’t dead the whole time.

I’ll cross this one out since he died right in front of me and they displayed his actual body in front of us at his funeral. Lastly,

Third, has an unusual vibe and doesn’t act like the person you once knew. 

What scares me is that, i can’t cross this one out.

“Honey?” your mom’s voice cut you off your thoughts.

You looked back, and let out a simple ‘hmm?’ 

“What are you doing with your book?” she called out, i checked my book out and noticed ink spread throughout the page as my hand turned pale gripping onto the pen. 

I looked back to my mom, and gave a small smile as i turned the page, “studying” 

Chuckling, she walked forward, going to me and lay on my bed behind me. It was silent for a few minutes while I focused on my homework. Obviously not being able to, I mentally groaned and slammed my book shut and looked at my mom. “Yes?-”

“Should i call He-san to study with you-”

“-NO” I snapped. My hand immediately separated from my body and my fingers spread showing a ‘stop’ sign. Wearing a fake smile, my mom reached her hand forward and intertwined both our fingers. 

“I will” then she shook her hand along with mine. She let go of my hand and walked to the door, at the same time I twisted back facing my desk again, flustered. I waited for the door to click, but it never came. Glancing back, I see my mom staring at me again.

“What is it this time-”

“Have this” then she threw a square shaped object, and me being the clumsy, sleepy as hell demon I am, I didn’t get to catch it as it fell in front of me. I gawked at my mom and she smiled again and waved her fingers, closing the door shut.

“What’s this” whispering to myself as I lowered my body to reach the object. As I did, I flipped it over and it showed a picture of 2 guys and a girl. The two boys made a heart as the girl stood in the middle cupping her face. Twins were what the boys were, identical twins. Scanning the picture one last time, I spot a name on the bottom left. 

Lee Heeseung.

Lee Heeseung?

Lee Heeseung.

Lee Heeseung.

Lee Heeseung.

Lee Heeseung.

He-san’s twin brother. The simple picture cured all your suspicions. He had a tattoo on his right hand, but He-san had a tattoo on his left. He-san’s allergic to shrimp, but the He-san who showed up happily hogged all the tempura when he visited your home.

Third, has an unusual vibe and doesn’t act like the person you once knew.

the weirdest one was when he told me...he loved me. 

The He-san who showed up isn’t He-san. 

It’s Lee Heeseung, his twin brother.

the door suddenly opened, with Heeseung entering the room. With him, my mother's head peeked from the door and an apologetic look spread across her face. you had to know she said as we made eye contact. I gave a nod of my head and a weak smile, she smiled back and closed the door. Click.

“So what do you want to do?-”

“heeseung”

Silence conquered the entire room, shifting my sight to the frozen boy infront of me my eyes heated up. “Heeseung, right?” I said.

No reply came from the boy. 

“So, you are heeseung.” nothing seemed to process in my mind as the boy simply avoided my eye contact. Nothing filled my mind except.

“Why?, why would you do that?” I weakly asked. “W-why would you act like he-san and give me such high hopes?!” standing up, rage coursed through my veins. 

“Have you ever even thought, what would i feel if i found out? Did you ever wonder on how soon we’ll be able to find out? Heeseung I’m your friend, i’m basically your family-”

“I know, and that’s what hurts the most.” “that you’re only just a friend with me, but when you’re with He-San… You treat him as he’s in love with you. And you with him.” he whole-heartedly admitted. His head was hung-low and regret laced through his voice.

“How bout you? Did you ever consider how i felt?” he snapped.

“What do you mean?-”

“I disappeared, right? You knew I suddenly disappeared out of nowhere, but what did you do? You went to He-san and confessed your feelings right after the news came out

And that one time He-san literally got lost IN A CLUB, and what did you do? You literally dragged me out of MY REUNION with my friends just to find him” 

His head shot up and his eyes swelled with tears “and you know that wasn’t all, so tell me. Did YOU ever think on how I felt with all that favoritism?” 

“I-i just wanted to feel important to you, and I didn’t know what to do. YOU are important to me, same with He-san. But I just didn’t feel the same with you, I didn’t feel any importance on myself whenever I see you treating He-San that way. So, As the mentally broken person I am, I became He-san knowing the consequences” 

No words came out of my mouth as I had yet to process everything he said. I didn’t know what to feel, shame? Guilt? Anger? Or sadness? If only I could just die right then and there I would, my mind was a mess and this whole conversation was a mess. Nothing seemed to sit right anymore. You would think on who really was at fault..is it me? Or is it him?

“But then again, here we are having this conversation. Everything seems to be moving so fast right? It’s been MONTHS. And throughout those months, I felt...important.

To you,” 

Complete silence, none of us spoke a word. Shivering silence I would say. None of us made eye contact, and we made not a single sound but it wasn’t awkward, it was scary. You could feel the rage and anger radiating through the silence. So I did the most logical thing to do,

 Run. just simply get out of the room, house actually. And run. To where?

He-san’s grave. 

I dropped on my knees and my lips tremble tremendously. Taking quick breaths I looked up trying to contain my tears. Looking back down,  it met me with his name engraved on his headstone.

Lee He-san 2001-2021

A salty taste travelled to my lips and i wiped it immediately. My eyes got puffy and my eyesight blurred. My head throbbed loudly and all I could do was drop as my arms supported my entire body. 

“Y/N!” a voice called behind me.

“Y/N!” Heeseung’s voice called me. It was unclear since the noise of the cars honking and my crying blocked my hearing. He also seemed to be far away.

And I didn’t even dare to look back.

“Y/N!” the voice grew louder and i wiped my tears. Looking back, I see Heeseung on the other side of the road. He had a small smile, and he was waving his hand. Guilt corrupted my mind as I stood up and walked to the sidewalk and screamed 

“Go away, I-I don’t deserve to be your friend.” 

He didn’t reply. The pedestrian light turned green, and he walked towards me. The pedestrian was long, and I simply took the chance and ran away again. “Y/N!” His footsteps were loud as he ran going towards me. 

As I reached the middle of the road, a hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to turn to the other side. “y/n, listen to me” 

“I-im sorry,” i cut him off “i didn’t know that’s what you felt, I’m such a bad friend, and I was so clueless. I was probably so blinded by-”

“y/n, listen to me. I-it’s fine. I don’t care. As long as we’re together like this and the misunderstanding is clear, everything’s going to be fine. He-san wouldn’t want us to be living like this. I’m sure he would want us to be happy, I-i’m sorry too. I know that was very selfish of me to do that…”

Tears seemed to gather on the bottom of my eyes again, and Heeseung pulled me into his chest and his arms wrapped around my upper body. I hugged him back, breaking the hug right after. “L-let’s just go back to He-san ok?” 

I took a couple of breaths and nodded my head. We were going to walk to the side-walk until a stranger’s voice screamed “KIDS WATCH OUT” 

We both looked forward, and they met us with a truck's front as its honks ringed in my mind. We stood there frozen, and I felt a push from my side and I moved away and my body thumped to the other side of the road. My eyesight was blurry and a huge CRASH was what I heard, and before i knew it my eyesight went blank. 

"y-y/n??" "y/n? y/-"

my eyes shot open and I shot up from the bed. Looking around all i saw was white. rubbing my eyes, doctors, wheelchairs and nurses surrounded me. I looked to where the voice came from and was greeted by my mother. My lips felt dry and I was still wearing my outfit from earlier...earlier...

the truck..heeseung-

"where's heeseung?"

#lee heeseung imagine #enhypen heeseung imagine #enhypen #enhypen edits #engene #enhypen imagine #angst #yang jungwon #lee heeseung #park jongseong #park jay #shim jaeyoon #shim jake #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #niki #jungwon #heeseung #jongseong #jay #jake #sunghoon #sunoo #mnet iland #iland #bighit #belift

[namfine]

Motherlode | Namjoon x Reader | Gold Rush AU | Part 1

❂ pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

❂ word count: 5k

❂ summary: Following the death of your father in 1849, you travel across the United States in search of finding gold in California. There you stumble upon a young geology professor eager to find his way in the world as well. 

❂ tags: 18+, smut, virgin reader, first time sex, oral sex (fem receiving), foreplay, light dirty talk, falling in love, mutual feelings, gold rush au, time period au, alternate universe, outdoor sex? (they’re in a tent so?), smut with plot

❂ part: 1 of 2

Part 2

❂ a/n: Hello everyone, Admin Zesty here! This is the first in a two part series of a new alternate universe set in the California Gold Rush with our dearest Namjoon. I’ll update this and post the next chapter when it’s finished. Hope you enjoy!

- ☆.｡.:* Zesty .｡.:*☆

The sunrises out here really were beautiful. That gave you something to look forward to each day, at least. You urged your horse forward, eager to catch up to the rest of the caravan. It was just a few more miles until you reached the border of California and then a bit more to reach the American River. You had made it. For the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope.

The trek across America had been harder than you expected. You had been so overcome with grief from the death of your father that you had leapt at the opportunity to find riches in the unexplored west after James Marshall found that massive gold nugget. New York had nothing for you now, it’s only purpose serving as a stark reminder that you had no one left in the world to look out for you. Only mean neighbors who trusted your bookshop owning father on his peculiar way of raising a young lady.

“I do oppose young ladies learning how to read, it’s quite unbecoming.”

“If you keep encouraging those debates, Mr. Y/L/N, you’re going to raise her to have a mind of her own!”

“Ugh, did you see what Y/N was wearing around the store the other evening? Pantaloons!”

You shoved down the memories. Yes, leaving New York after the death of your father had been surprisingly easy.

The sun finally tipped over the horizon and flashed in your eyes. You pulled down your cap, careful to keep your hair tucked under it in an effort to block the sun. It was dangerous for a single young lady without a male relative or husband to travel alone. With no known family left, you had done the only thing you knew to avoid it: became a boy.

As a boy you were inconspicuous, you could easily slide under the radar. Men stopped paying attention to you and the streets were safer at night. Your last night in New York all it took was a pair of scissors and a quick raid of your father’s closet and you were ready to go. But now, five months into the journey, your hair was starting to get long again and you knew your face well enough to know that if you didn’t pin your hair, it would soon be easy to tell. You had lost your knife a few months back and sorely felt the loss.

“How are the pains?” A soft voice drew you from your thoughts and you turned to see the minister’s wife astride her sorrel mare beside you. As one of the few women in the group, she had the ability to move quietly when she needed to. She was older than you and had a kind face. Her and her husband were heading to California to spread the gospel of the lord and had been kind enough to let you tag along with their group on the journey. Most of which were practicers of religion or men hoping to find riches for their families. The caravan totaled to about 25 people and of them all, she was the only one that knew you were a girl.

She’d figured it out quickly, given the fact that your period the first month on the road had been brutal. She had recognized your pain, offered you some herbs, and didn’t ask any questions.

When you offered an explanation later, stating how you wanted the opportunity and safety only a man’s appearance could offer, she said you didn’t need to explain. That your reasonings were your own and she understood what would happen if you were discovered. Of the freedom that could be taken from you and the things that could be forced upon you in an instant.

And that was that. Your companionship had grown from there, simple but welcomed.

“They’re better,” you respond. “Thank you for the herbs.”

The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do when you get there?”

You tightened your resolve and flashed her a smile. “I’m gonna kick the West’s ass.”

***

It turns out, the West’s ass didn’t want to be kicked. By the time you had reached the base on the American River parts of your group had dwindled down. The minister and his wife stayed with you and the other panners for a few days before continuing on their journey to San Francisco leaving you, for the first time on this journey, completely and utterly alone.

The base was huge, an expedition set up by a mean old man who called himself The Warden. What his real name was, no one knew. You had that in common with him at least, having kept your true name secret to all who you’d encountered.

It was now, standing in his massive tent surrounded by his men, that the sinking feeling of being a woman in disguise in a camp filled with rascals settled in. If any one were to discover you, god knows what would happen.

“How old are you anyway, boy?” The warden asked. He was standing behind his desk. On it was a map of the American with circles indicating where gold had been found. “You’re a scrawny fella.”

“Sixteen, sir.” 23. But tall, for a girl and well past marriageable age in your neighbors opinions.

The older man scoffed, stroking his mustache. “And you out here searchin’ for riches, son? Gonna blow it all on hookers and booze, I betcha.” The men around him laughed. You kept your face neutral.

“Something like that, sir.”

“Well,” he took a swig from the metal mug. “All walks of life are welcome here. We’re all runnin’ from somethin’ and searchin’ for the-” he held up a finger “-one thing that will help us escape.” He put down the mug and grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, careful to avoid smudging the ink on the map. “Sign here and you can start tomorrow.”

You looked at the paper. Lucky for you, your father had believed that everyone, regardless of gender should be taught to read. You couldn’t say the same for the parents of other girls your age. He had also taught you to be wary of a contract. “What is it?”

“An agreement, boy. You sign away 60 days of honest work to me, panning for gold and helping assemble my mine. After that, I’ll let you pan here for free. Anything you find, you keep.”

Seems fair.

“What if I find something before my days are up?”

He looked at you. “Then it’s mine. I’m letting you sleep here and eat our food, I gotta pay for it all somehow and aren’t we all in this for profit?”

Touche.

“Deal.”

***

The days were long and the work was hard. Regardless, you found yourself quickly settling into a routine at the camp. You started most mornings down by the river, panning for gold. The cool water managed to balance out the hot sun and compared to the noisy streets of New York, you were loving the sounds of the birds and the wind.

In the afternoons you would sometimes continue panning or they would send you into the mines to help clear paths. You hated it down there. There was something unnerving about going deep into the earth and digging into her crevices. The air smelled damp and the only light was the lanterns that were hung haphazardly along the walls. You tried to avoid this work as much as possible.

On the eighth day of your sentence your routine was broken by a disturbance on the outskirts of the main base. A young professor had arrived a few days earlier and you had paid him little mind, as did most of the other miners. Still, it seemed his time of going unnoticed was over.

“What did you say about my gold?” An angry man had the lanky professor by his collar and up against a tree, two of his friends closing in on either side.

The professor waved his arms in surrender, trying desperately to fix whatever it was he seemed to have started. You stopped along the path along with a few other panners to observe and a small crowd gathered shortly.

“I merely spoke the truth,” The professor said, his voice even and calm. “What you have there isn’t gold at all. It’s pyrite. You trading it for time off his sentence seems hardly fair considering it's pretty much worthless.”

You shook your head at his honesty in such a compromising position. What an idiot.

“Look,” The panner said, tightening his grip on the professor's collar. “ I may not have some fancy degree from some big college but I’ve been working these waters a lot longer than you, boy, and I know gold when I see it.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make, when you don’t know the differences. I hardly blame you.”

Your mouth dropped open. The men around you shifted on their feet, sensing a scuffle.

The man fumed. “Are you calling me a liar?”

The professor looked down at his collar at the spot where the man gripped his collar before tracing the man’s arm with his eyes slowly back to his face.

Oh god, you thought. Please don’t say it.

“I don’t think you’re a liar,” the professor stated.

Oh, good. He has some sense at least.

“Just an idiot.”

Here we go.

The man pulled back his other fist, his friends egging him on, ready to throw the punch. The professor shot another one of his goofy grins and this time you could have sworn it was in your direction. You stared at him in abject confusion.

“Stop!” A shout rang out across the group and everyone froze. “What’s going on here?”

You turned to see the warden fast approaching, his usual squad hot on his heels. “Men, release the professor and explain!”

The man holding the professor’s collar dropped it and the professor brushed off his shirt, giving him another small smile. “This here smart guy,” the assailant started. “Was accusin’ me of lyin’. Sayin’ that I was rippin’ ole Jimmy off with a piece of . . . uh. . .” he looked at the professor.

The professor leaned forward. “Pyrite,” he supplied.

“Ah, yeah,” the man continued. “Pyrite! He said I was rippin’ Jimmy off with a piece of this here Pyrite!”

The warden looked up at the heaven’s like he was hoping today would be his last day on earth. “Could I see the mineral in question?”

The man supplied the gem out of his pocket and handed it to the warden. The crowd stood on their tiptoes as he examined it, eager to see the verdict. The professor didn’t show any emotion, merely crossed his arms in quiet confidence. You studied his movements.  

The warden turned the piece over in his hands, examining the mineral before bringing it to his mouth and biting down. When he was satisfied he turned toward the assailant.

“The professor accused you of lyin’ not because he thought you were,” the warden began, startlingly calm. “But because he knew you were a FUCKING IDIOT!” The warden threw the stone against the tree, mere inches past the assailants head who cowered at the tone. “That is pyrite you imbecile!”

The crowd burst into conversation. Some laughed and others stated their opinions on the matter but your eyes stayed  glued to the young professor. He watched you for a minute in response before turning to address the warden who was explaining his position to his lackeys. You moved closer so you could hear better, eager to learn more about the strange man who had appeared on the base. You had to admit, he was handsome but the pretty ones always brought trouble.

“Gentlemen, this is Professor Kim,” the warden introduced the young man to his group. They all nodded and introduced themselves in return but you didn’t bother to remember their names. “He is visitin’ us from a University overseas. Here to assist in discoverin’ where to best find the most valuable of Earth’s metals. He’s a . . . uhh. . . geographer or somethin’,” the warden explained. “Studies dirt and the like.”

“Geologist,” Professor Kim corrected. “A mining geologist to be specific. I study the  extractions of mineral resources from the Earth.”

The group stared at him.

“Rocks,” he sighed, defeated. “I study rocks.”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ broke out amongst the men. You stifled a laugh. You may not have traveled much but growing up in your father’s bookshop you had read a lot and even you knew what a geologist was.

“Regardless,” the warden continued, casting a dismissive hand in the Professor’s direction. “The higher ups seem hell bent on makin’ sure he makes progress in his work and comes out with as few - er - scratches as possible.”

Professor Kim tilted his head. “I would also very much appreciate that.”

“That being said,” the warden turned around looking over the crowd. “You there, boy!” The warden pointed in your direction. Surprised, you looked behind you. No one was there. You looked back at him, pointing at yourself.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” the warden spat. “You’re to assist the professor during his time here. Make sure he has everythin’ he needs and most of all, make sure he stays out of trouble.”

The warden turned on his heel to leave, clearly believing the matter to be settled.

You chased after him, as the crowd began to disperse, struggling to maintain your composure and keep your cool. “Sir, with all due respect I need to be on the rive-”

“Look, boy, I don’t have time to deal with this. You heard my command,” He turned lowering himself closer to your face. He reeked of body odor and whiskey and you struggled not to cover your nose. “-and my command is law. You signed that there contract, you work for me. And I say: you’re to be assistin’ the professor for the rest of his time here, and that’s that.” He spun on his heel and was gone. In a few short minutes the crowd was fully gone, leaving only you and the young professor.

Defeated, you cursed under your breath, not sure what you had done to deserve this. You were supposed to be out here finding gold, getting rich, and starting a new life far away from your troubles in the East and now you were supposed to babysit some yippy foreign professor because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

You finally turned to face Professor Kim. He raised an eyebrow in your direction and flashed a big smile, unaware the damage he was causing to your patience. He was tall, wearing a simple loose long sleeved white shirt tucked into snug pants. He had enough sense, it seemed, to leave behind the suit jacket and hat but had chosen to keep the suspenders. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Ever the gentleman.

“Look,” you addressed him directly for the first time. “I don’t have time to be your  babysitter. I need to find some gold and get the hell out of this shithole. So, I’d appreciate it if you could keep yourself out of trouble.”

He sized you up, eyeing your garb with an intelligence that was completely different  from the bumbling professor he had been mere minutes before. He  raised his eyes to meet your own and you struggled to not falter under his gaze.  His eyebrow quirked again, a sly smile on his lips. “You have quite the dirty mouth for a lady.”

You froze, fighting the urge to touch your cap. It’s still there, you’re okay. You could feel the wrappings on your chest and knew that they were intact as well. How did he . . .?

“I don’t know to what you are referring,” you kept your tone calm and cool.

“Don’t fret,” he responded, brushing off your glare. “I don’t think anyone else here has noticed.”

That did it. You grabbed his arm and pulled him along behind you, dodging the panners and workers that flitted about searching for the one thing that could make their lives less miserable. Finding a quiet alley between two tents you pushed him against the wall. The professor put his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Okay, talk,” you whispered. You were surrounded by chaos but who knew who may overhear. “How did you figure it out? Did someone tell you?” The minister’s wife?

He laughed, shaking his head. “No, no one told me. It’s just-”

You shook his shoulders, your brow furrowed. Here he was laughing when your future was literally at stake. “It’s just what?!”

He stopped laughing and looked at you. Really looked at you, his expression serious. “It’s just . . . you’re too pretty to be a boy. I could tell right away.”

Shocked, you released his arms and took a step back.

“It’s a miracle no one else has figured it out, really,” he continued. “Your walk is all wrong. You still walk like a lady, pretending there’s an invisible string that holds you up from your head. If you want to be believable, you have to walk pelvis first-” he demonstrated pushing his pelvis out and bending his knees before motioning at his stance “-like this.”

You snorted. “Well, it’s gotten me this far.”

“Well,” he replied, straightening himself up and brushing some dirt off his pants. It didn’t really help, he was still covered. “To be fair, you’re surrounded by idiots.”

You laughed. He was right there.

The professor held out his hand. “You can call me Namjoon.”

You looked at his outstretched hand for a second before relunctantly shaking it back.

“Y/N”

***

“So what is it you even do?” You asked bright and early the next morning. You had reported to Namjoon’s tent, as commanded, and stood there watching as he shoved some strange looking tools into his bag.

“My job,” he began, holding up a paintbrush. “Is to discover what minerals exactly are in the area around here and to learn as much about gold and how to find it as possible in the next few weeks.”

“And how,” you asked, watching him toss a few shovels into his bag. “Are you going to do that?”

“Well, my dear little guardian,” he tightened the latches on the bag and threw it over his shoulder, “why don’t you come along to find out?”

You followed him to a spot on the southern tip of a branch in the American river. From here the base appeared tiny and peaceful, the tents gently swaying in the breeze. It was another perfectly sunny day and you readjusted your cap to wipe the sweat off your brow  as you struggled to keep up. The professor may have appeared slim and studious but clearly, the man had some muscle on his bones because he was booking it up the trail.

Namjoon stopped when he reached a curve in the river far away from the other panners and plopped his bag on the ground.

“What do you know about gold, Y/N?” he asked, unlatching the bag to pull out a pan.

“That you can sell it and get a lot of money.”

Namjoon laughed. It was a pleasant sound that held none of the malicious intent you sometimes heard in the laughter of other men. Namjoon’s laugh was carefree and seemed to convey true joy. You liked it.

“Aye, yeah. You can indeed sell it and get a lot of money. Especially nowadays.” He dipped the pan into the running water, scooping up some of the grit down at the bottom and beginning to sift through it. “I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about gold. Like, where it comes from?”

“Isn’t that your job?” You remarked, sitting on a rock beside him, careful to avoid wet spots. He was mesmerizing to watch, the way his hands dipped in and out of the water, his long fingers searching through the grit when he thought he saw something that caught his eye.

“Come on, Y/N, give me something to work with here.”

You sighed, giving in. “A lot of gold is found in water. It’s malleable, hence why the warden bit the stone yesterday to prove that it wasn’t gold. Uhhh . . . it’s yellow?”

Namjoon chuckled as he made a selection from his pan. He held it up so that you could see the reflective deep yellow surface. The sun bounced off the metal making it hard to look anywhere but the gold that Namjoon had found in literally ten minutes.

“This,” Namjoon began. “Is true gold. Do you know how I can tell?”

You shook your head. Namjoon turned the rock over in his hands.

“One, as you already said, hardness.” He took a nail and flecked off a piece of the small rock. “See how it just scraped off there? That’s a telltale sign.”

“Second, smell. Pyrite sometimes has a slight sulfur smell when rubbed. Gold will not.” He handed you the gold. You turned it over in your hands before bringing it to your nose and inhaling. Nothing.

You met Namjoon’s eyes. “Nothing.”

“Third,” he continued. “Shape. Gold, as you can see is a small malleable lump. Pyrite, like the one yesterday, is larger and more cube-like in structure. More impressive to look at but, less money when sold.”

You nodded and handed the gold back to Namjoon. “How much would you estimate that piece to be worth? If you had to take your best guess?”

“Well,” Namjoon began. “I’m no jeweler. I’m better at finding the minerals than pricing them but if I had to hazard a guess . . . .huh. . . It’s quite a few ounces, at least. Honestly, quite a nifty little chunk there. I’d say possibly upwards of $500?”

Your jaw dropped open. “$500?”

Namjoon shrugged. “I mean, it’s a guess.”

“Holy shit!” That was more money than your father made in three months. You would know, you helped with the books.

“Well, anyway, that’s gold.” Namjoon shoved the gem in his pocket and stood up.

You darted up after him. “Wait, a second! That’s it! What are you going to do with that? Give it to the warden?”

Namjoon smirked at you. “I don’t work for the warden. I’m going to keep it. I need it for research anyway, that’s why I brought you here. Now, we study it.”

You stared at him. Shocked that he could care so little for the fiscal amount of the stone in his pocket. Namjoon, oblivious as normal, merely scooped his belongings into his bag and motioned for you to follow. “Come along, Y/N. We have a long day of documenting ahead of us.”

***

Life as Namjoon’s assistant wasn’t the worst thing ever. Most days would start with you both checking specific points around the river for gold, pyrite, and other expensive minerals. He would bring along a sketchbook and draw the most interesting ones or make a list of the scenarios in which they were found. You followed suit and eventually took over this part of the job for him, since your drawing was exponentially better.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was fun work. Namjoon was great company and always had a variety of fun stories to tell. You couldn’t believe the places he’d been, the environment in which he had grown up, and the people he had met along the way.

“Y’know,” he said one day after finishing a story about a strange magician he had met on the streets of Singapore. He  was bent over his desk, scribbling notes into a leather bound book. You were on the opposite side of the room, drawing some of the gold specimens you had gathered that day. The candles were low and the sun setting, providing a warm, evening glow inside the tent. You looked over at him, ink smudged on his chin and hair tousled from his messing. “You’ve had miraculous adventures yourself. Growing up in New York City? Traveling across the entire continent of North America, essentially alone, in search of a new future?” He looked up from his notebook, meeting your eyes from across the room. “It’s pretty impressive stuff.”

You shrugged, breaking eye contact to continue your sketch. “Not really. It was just survival.”

“That’s all adventures are, really,” he murmured, returning to his work. “Surviving.”

***

It was late one evening and the camp had finally quieted down. Namjoon had fallen asleep hours ago covered in a blanket in his favorite chair  next to the crackling fire while reading through some manuscripts. You were still awake, concentrating hard on a drawing you had started on a piece of pyrite the two of you had unearthed earlier. You were trying to get the cube like structure of the crystals perfect and it just wasn’t working.

Frustrated, you pressed too hard on your graphite snapping the tip. You flung it across the room with a noise of exasperation and nearly jumped out of your chair at the deep rumble of laughter that followed.

Your head turned to find Namjoon staring at you from across the room, his eyes half lidded with sleep and his hair in it’s permanently mussed state. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been up for awhile.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have brought you some tea.”

“I like watching you work. It’s . . .” he seemed to be searching for the right word. “Mesmerizing.”

You averted your eyes to the floor struggling to keep the blush that had crept up into your cheeks from his view. You hoped he wouldn’t notice in the dim lighting. “I can’t imagine it’s all that interesting.”

“Believe me, it is.”

You met his eyes again and struggled to calm the rapid pace of your heart. When did Namjoon become so handsome? And why was he saying such things?

“Anyway,” you started, standing up from the desk. “It’s getting late and I should be getting to bed.”

“Would you like me to walk you back?” he asked, making to move.

You laughed. “Wouldn’t people find it strange that you’re walking your young male apprentice back to his tent late at night? Don’t want people to think you’re out here doing anything scandalous.”

He smiled at you. “Oh, I’m already a scoundrel in many ways, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer him but hid the smile it caused as you packed up your belongings and bid him farewell.

You pondered your relationship with him the entire walk across camp to your meager tent. With Namjoon, you could be yourself. He didn’t reprimand you for your use of ‘unladylike language’ or tell you to cross your legs when you sat. He also didn’t mind that you wore men's clothes or could outread him in a flat out race. He respected you enough to keep your secret and didn’t treat you any different when the two of you were alone in his tent, allowing you to assist in the work just as much as he.

It was amazing how fast acquaintances turned to friends in the West.

***

“I’m going into the mines today,” Namjoon announced one day, taking a long sip of his tea. He sat in a chair by his desk, flipping through one of his journals. You weren’t sure exactly what it was he was doing but you would be willing to bet money he was searching for some image of a cool rock you sketched a week ago.

“Why on earth would you willingly go into that shithole?”

Namjoon shot you a look before resuming his search. “That shithole, as you so eloquently put it, has apparently yielded some strange stone that the warden wants me to inspect. See if it’s worth any money.

You scoffed. Of course, the warden was searching for a profit, as usual. “Do you want me to come?”

Namjoon laughed. “Want? Yes. Need? No. You stay up here and keep checking the rivers for more pyrite or gold. See if you can find any more samples on the American. I won’t be long, and then I’ll join you.”

***

The hours passed slowly without Namjoon’s conversation. You didn’t think you would ever miss his incessant chatter about rocks and whatever cool facts he could spout on command, yet here you were. You were almost done checking the southernmost point of the American for any recent discoveries from the panners when the earth began to quiver.

You quickly gripped a nearby tree as the shaking intensified, small cracks breaking through the surface nearby. Men screamed as the earth let out another massive quake, and in the distance you could see the  tents swaying back and forth. You had felt some minor earthquakes on your journey over, but nothing as huge as this.

In a few seconds the earth settled, resuming her quiet existence, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. You couldn’t wait to see Namjoon later and listen to him ramble on about tectonic plates and the earth’s molten core and whatever other nonsense you had grown fond of.

You stopped in your tracks. When had you grown fond of anything that ridiculous man did?

The realization of your feelings hit you like a wall and you barely moved out of the way in time as a group of men ran towards the camp.

“Hurry!” One of them shouts at you. “Pull yourself together, boy! The mine is collapsing! We need to get those people out!”

You blink, coming out of your stupor. The mine is collapsing?

Your eyes widened.

Namjoon is in the mine.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #namfine #series #kim namjoon #Admin Zesty #alternate universe #gold rush #motherlode

[fictionalrambles]

Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Fifteen

Submitted by jwrites_

Five Favourite Fics:

1. What's It Gonna Be by @lemonoclefox

Why I love this fic: I'm a sucker for Pride & Prejudice. San was able to take that dynamic and put it all in a modern day telling of it. I can't count how many times I've read this. Sometimes I read it all the way through, other times I go and find my favorite parts just to get that rush of emotions it never fails to give. The enemies to lovers is done perfectly, the dialogue is great and flows seamlessly, the way she tied in the storyline between Simon, Isabelle, Valentine, and Alec together was genius. I truly love every word of this story.

Favorite scene: Awkward - love - confession - in -  the -  rain

Favorite quote(s):

(Yes. Love confessions are great but have you ever overheard someone say something rude about you and then have the opportunity later that same night to be able to casually call that person out for their comment?)

"Her friend is..." He trails off, as though searching for the word, and Magnus can imagine him gesturing in the meantime. "Interesting," Jace eventually settles on, pointedly.

"Who, that Bane guy?" Alec says, and as he does, Magnus is hit with a wave of intrigued surprise. Does Alec like men? Interesting. The assumption could be wrong, of course, but Jace's tone implies that that's why he's mentioning it. "He's a bit over the top, don't you think?"

He sounds almost disdainful as he says it, as though Jace's mere suggestion is laughable, and Magnus's intrigue immediately shifts to offended annoyance. He straightens a little where he stands, reluctantly affected by it.

--

"I mean, love songs are great," Magnus admits lightly. "But stringing a few pretty words together does seem a bit unoriginal when everyone does it."

Simon shoves him lightly in offense, and Magnus can't help but laugh.

"Then what do you suggest?" Magnus is taken completely by surprise when he realizes that it's Alec who's speaking, and he turns to him. The guy's expression is neutral, but seems genuinely curious.

"Oh, I don't know," Magnus says, swirling his drink around in his glass. He shrugs. "I suppose I'm more a fan of showing and not telling. I'd much prefer someone showing interest in what I like and who I am, than comparing my eyes to the night sky, and whatnot." He gestures airily, then hesitates. He suddenly can't seem to stop himself, the memory of the Lightwoods' overheard conversation bubbling to the surface. "I think most people can appreciate that. Even if some of us are a bit over the top."

--Okay...I'm gonna go ahead and throw in a love confession~

"Look, I don't expect anything from you," he says, as though the words are hard to say. "You've made your feelings pretty clear, and I respect that. But I heard you talked to my mom, and with the stuff you said to her... I guess it just kind of made me a bit hopeful, or something. A bit." He clears his throat, while Magnus just listens. He turns to watch Alec's profile as the young man struggles to find the words, eyes on the view in front of him. "Either way, I'll admit that how I feel hasn't really changed. Maybe it should have, but..."

Alec shakes his head, and Magnus feels his throat go dry. He wants to interrupt Alec, wants to say and show everything that's bursting out of his chest, but he waits. Alec takes a deep breath then, turns to him. He looks determined.

"If you want me to," he says steadily, "I'll go. I'll leave you alone, I promise. You won't hear from me again." He pauses, licks his lips. "But if you don't want me to, if something has changed since last time, somehow... I'd really like to know. Because that would be pretty great."

2. 42 North 71 West by @lecrit​

Why I love this fic: I was blessed with the opportunity to witness Lu working on this fic from its conception to its end. I was there and still I am blown away at the way she was able to work the time jumps. I remember thinking with every chapter I read, 'Wow. The way she is telling this story is amazing. She is amazing.' Lu has a way of presenting so much honesty in her characters. She writes them in a way that feels so real, that you can't help but understand their fears and hesitations even though it hurts. The story is a back and forth told through scenes set in the past and present. You get to see what they were and where they are. The story is beautifully heartbreaking. And she was able to make me enjoy a story that dealt with politics? What? Sorcery, I tell you. -- also, the bench.

Favorite scene: This was almost impossible to choose and I took way too long trying to pinpoint just one. But I'm going to go with one that I hold very dear. When Magnus goes to visit Alec on his birthday and he finds Alec playing the song he only plays when he's sad. That's all I'm going to say because I don't want to spoil~

Favorite quote(s):

“Magnus,” Alec breathes out.

The name feels almost foreign, as if he hadn’t uttered it in too long and now his mind is troubling to catch up with his mouth. Still, it manages to make Alec’s heart stutter.

--

“We should’ve stayed on that bench in Boston,” he murmurs.

--

The good thing is, he knows where to go to find his way back. It is inked on his body, engraved into his soul, sealed into his heart.

3. Lead The Way by Clockworkswan

Why I love this fic: Because it takes the wonderful adventure of Doctor Who and packs it in with Malec. This is the ultimate fun and feel good but you will also cry at one point fic. I always go back to it if I want a wonderfully written Doctor Magnus and his adorable companion Alec. Seriously, even if you're not into Doctor Who, give this fic a shot. It's written in a way that you will get so caught up in the adventure that you won't even realize it's based on something else. And if you're a Doctor Who fan, you're in luck with all the little Easter Eggs Heather left throughout.

Favorite scene: I really don't want to spoil anything. The planet of Ablorix. This will mean nothing if you don't read the fic (so you should ;])

Favorite quote(s):

Magnus extends a hand. It’s just like before, when they were in the hallway a couple of weeks ago. It’s just as inviting as it was the first time.

“How about it, pretty boy? Name a star. Any one will do. Or a date,” Magnus says. The double meaning is evident when he winks. He pauses then, and his expression shifts, growing solemn.

A clear shift in his demeanour happens. Magnus turns from playful to sincere in the blink of an eye. Although, there was also a serious tone to it. Magnus looks at him, and understanding eyes meet Alec’s hesitant ones. “Alexander, you seem like a man in need of a break, and I am very much a man in need of a friend. Adventures are always a quick way in figuring out what you want. What do you say?”

What does he say?

He says yes.

Of course Alec does.

--

Before Magnus can think of a good retort, he tries to ignore the clenching ache his stomach gives at the sight of a confident, smirking Alec Lightwood watching him so openly. He settles for pointing in a random direction. “I have to go and see a dog about a man. Meet back here in five?”

“Uh, isn’t the expression, ‘see a man about a dog’?”

“Not when the dog ran off with the man’s wife. A rather big scandal, it seems. The president wants me to try and step in. Smooth things over, so to speak.”

At that, Alec just stares blankly.

Magnus holds up a finger. “Yes, this is normal for me. No, you may not come along. Go.”

4. Love & Other Drugs prequel of Our Love Is A Harsh Chord in the Semi-charmed Kind Life series by @la-muerta​

Why I love this fic: I'm kind of cheating here by listing two fics but they're a package deal. Love & Other Drugs was a smutty one-shot that left me wanting

more...

backstory. Let me tell you the pining and 'unrequited' love between those two demanded a story to be written. Which is why when la_muerta ran a poll on whether or not she should start it or another series first, I campaigned for this one like it was my job (I lost but I still got the series eventually so did I really lose?) The writing in this and with all of la_muerta's fics will hook you. The sadness over the back and forth between them is done so well. It's angst that will grip you and hold onto you until you eventually finish. Just go on the twitter hashtag of #OLIAHCfic and see my screaming.

Favorite scene: Probably the LSD scene.

Favorite quote(s):

Alec was still here, in bed with him.

How many times had Magnus wished that he could wake up with Alec in his arms? He didn't dare to move, wanting the dream to last a little longer, but Alec was already stirring.

--

he'll wonder if life would be a little easier if he wasn't hopelessly in love with Magnus, but it is a fact of who he is now: Alec Lightwood is 6'3, has dark hair, is gay, and is in love with Magnus Bane.

--

They are lying next to each other now, turned on their sides and face to face. The world is no longer warped and weird, but glowing and perfect. Magnus is tracing a path of lightning down Alec's body with his fingertips, and in a moment of clarity Alec understands that in Magnus' eyes he is as beautiful as he thinks Magnus is (it is the first thing Alec forgets when he wakes up sober later).

--

Words aren't enough to express how he feels, but they've always understood each other better when clumsy words don't get in the way.

5. The Lonely Hearts Hotline by @unrestrainedlyexcessive​

Why I love this fic: It's funny, it's endearing, it's heart wrenching, it's sexy, etc. The way Alec is written in this fic is one of my favorite characterizations. The way his situation can resonate with so many young adults today. That feeling when you're an adult and you feel like you should know what to do with your life and who you should be but the truth is, you're still just as lost as always. Being an adult sucks tbh and even when you're an adult, sometimes life doesn't quite feel like it. Alec's character and growth in this fic is beautiful. (I also really loved Jace in this fic)

Favorite scene: A tough choice. Probably the office party and follow up scene in Magnus' office.

Favorite quote(s):

The problem with being a new grad, in general, is that the world and job force demands you have experience, but you have to live a certain number of productive years on the planet to gain that experience.

Early adulthood is no man's land. You don’t have the experience to matter and no one wants to pay you to gain it, hence how he ended up in the precarious situation he’s in: dodgy sex work by night, an even dodgier roommate, and desperately hoping an internship eventually turns into an actual paying job.

--

Magnus runs his tongue down the knobs of Alec's spine. "You're so beautiful," he says, pausing.

"I'm really not," Alec insists, eyes fluttering closed.

"Why are you so kind to everyone except yourself?"

"I'm a work in progress."

"Aren't we all?"

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction blog

[aki-draws-things]

NaNoWriMo 2020 #13/14

Me being me I ended up losing control of one single prompt and it took 2 days to be completed, that ended up with a doubled word count too so the balance in that has been kept.

It was meant to be shorter, obviously, and less dark but writing dark AUs is quite funnier than expected, and turning Huaisang into the actual mastermind he is... well, it’s just a delight.

At some point while writing I encountered a scene that gave me the idea for Huaisang’s saber name, Rěnnài, to endure, patience. 

As for the others, or most of them, after the Nanowrimo I will polish them, expande some scenes with more time and calmness, but I feel pretty proud about this one already.

Hope this dark, vengenful Huaisang will have all the love he deserves. <3 

Day: 13-14/11/2020

Prompt: Hallucination

Ship: None

Word Count: 3506

Huaisang stood on the door of his brother's study, the room simple and tidy, almost like it belonged to no one, almost impartial. Nie mingjue must have spent a long while to fix it like that and keep it tidy, considering how his personal chamber was. Not that his brother was messy, or untidy, he simply liked to keep things within arm reach without having to move much. But there were more shelves than huaisang ever guessed, all filled with papers and books, all distant enough from the table to have him having to stand and walk over to get something. - and his brother was no new to forgetting things he needed for specific tasks until he actually needed them. Huaisang heard him groan in frustration more than he should have and always hid a smile at how forgetful he was. But that was before knowing of the sickness already latching in his mind and his core. - 

The room, in its position, with a window behind the desk looking at the mountains, with the winds softly blowing and making a little purple tassel and a bell chime softly, with the shelves disposition, was quiet. Relaxing. Mind calming. - during his time in Gusu, Jiang YanLi gave mingjue and xichen the bells. She said they would be both their passage token to visit her in lotus Pier and that would have a calming effect on their mind. - 

Nie huaisang noticed only when stepping closer to it that the lotus pendant on the tassel was broken in half. "Maybe it was the wind too strong." he wondered, but stopped a moment later, a new thought slipping in his mind. "maybe it broke when Da-ge died because it lost the connection." he touched the bell with a finger, no sound came from it. Jiang bells had always been special, latching to their owner like spiritual weapons. 

Huaisang looked at the desk, books on one side, papers on the other, neatly folded, an old and used set of brushes and ink. 

A fan closed on his seat, huaisang reached and opened it. It wasn't the one that passed from one sect leader to the next, that was now on his belt, it was… Old. Imperfect. The ink smudged here and there. It was the one nie mingjue kept at his side during most celebrative events and never opened, in favor of the sect one. That's when he still had a fan in his hand at least. But even without opening it he always kept that one on his belt. The one huaisang gave him so many years before, one of the first fans he tried to paint. Nie mingjue didn't simply keep it, he kept it within reach, a physical object able to ground him. Huaisang fell on his knees behind the desk and held the fan to his chest, shoulders shaking in silent tears he didn't think he still could shed. 

"huaisang." a voice called, a familiar, comforting voice. When he looked up, eyes red and a sob stuck in his throat, his older brother was on the door, his finger pointed to a book to Huaisang's left. A light burst of wind opened the book on a specific page huaisang knew all too well. Because that was his book, no reason for nie mingjue to have it here. Because the page was the short piece of cleansing music san-ge had taught him. And suddenly huaisang understood where it had been wrong all along. 

And then he understood what he was meant to do from that day on. 

Revenge was something running deep in the Nie family, everyone thought it was linked to the sword spirits inhabiting their saber's but the sect's members knew better. Revenge wasn't simply the act, it wasn't the whole "an eye for an eye" thing, it wasn't a mindless attack on whoever wronged them, revenge was the most righteous of final actions. The epilogue of days and months and years of hard work to bring their enemy down piece by piece. It was a game of patience and huaisang prided himself with having plenty of it. 

The truth was he resembled his brother more than people would guess, he watched him closely, he learned from him, he followed his direction more times than even nie mingjue would think. In his own way, with his own times, but he did it. 

The other sects also believed that most qi deviation were caused by the connection with the sword spirit. Sure, the spirits were for most part angry, blood thirsty, they instigated their wielders to fight more and more and more. Until the wielders succumbed to the same blood thirsty. It was only that. The Nie sect trained more and harder than others, they didn't have all the rules of the gusu lan sect, but they had a few. 

Their control came from discipline, their discipline came from hard work. Hard work came with concentration and concentration came with sacrifice when they had the low whispers of their spiritual weapons in the back of their heads. 

Huaisang could hear his saber. She was a small, thin thing, nothing like baxia, her voice soft and tender even in her anger and huaisang knew she was angry. She blamed the world for having lost her older sister, for having been left alone in that world of snakes. She hated the world and huaisang hated it with her..

"patience is a virtue." huaisang spoke aloud in the study room alone, his words directed to the soft whisper around him. 

Kill him. Let's kill him. He deserves to die. Kill the Jin snake. 

She was hissing and huaisang's hand softly caressed the sheath he now always kept by his side.. 

"you have an impatient little blade. - nie mingjue laughed from where he was sitting in front of him, his form almost ethereal, not really there, not really gone. - teach her patience, she will listen to you." his spirit, nie huaisang studied on that for almost three weeks, lingered in the mortal realm in order to lead him through his new plans and huaisang couldn't be more happy, even if he was the only one seeing the spirit of the late sect leader. 

"I'm trying da-ge, she doesn't listen." 

Kill the snake. Cut his limbs one by one. Let me bathe in his evil blood. Feed me, master. 

Nie huaisang took a deep breath and closed his eyes, rage seeped from the blade into him. He felt strong, he felt invincible. He felt--

"don't succumb to her emotions. You're the hand, don't become the blade." nie mingjue echoed through the room bringing him back to his sense. 

"says the one who used to merge with his saber." 

"I was in control, I had her trust and she had mine. Merging is something you learn with time. You're not ready yet." 

Kill the snake. She hissed. KillCutDestroy. 

"I will. - nie huaisang said with a smile. - just be a little more patient. It will come that day." 

Nie Huaisang thought many times that his brother would be disappointed in his methods, that he would turns one day and find him shake his head but he never did it, he nodded at him, encouraged him even, he guided him through stages of meditation Huaisang ignored until then, but he had picked up his saber now, he needed it not to succumb to her whispers, and HuaiSang's saber was both eager and loud, just like any other young saber.

His days changed ever since he became Sect Leader, in the end he understood why his brother changed so much back then.

He once laughed at the thousands Lan rules, - Lan Qiren made him copy them twice just for that, and he personally kept watch as he did. Just because he laughed! And smuggled a little songbird in class. Together with erotic books. Perhaps it was just the laughter. - now he found all the rules to have their own specific meaning and purpose. He understood, he learned. He followed.

He woke up early, just a bit after sunrise, to meditate and give his respects to the previous Sect leaders, starting from his brother and their father, reciting their names in soft whispers as he bowed. Then he trained, not to become stronger but to gain control on his saber, to gain her trust and loyalty, to bind her to himself until his last breath. Dealing with people was something he still didn’t like, dealing with other sects, big or minor, was even worse. He cared for Qinghe, of course he did, and he cared a lot, but they couldn’t show up for every minor inconvenience. That was when the old mask of the one people called “Head-shaker” was back on his face. He was little, he was useless, he didn’t know. He would shake his head and mutter in panic, his favorite fan in his hands, his saber laying hidden under the desk, trembling slightly in amusement at her wielder’s act, or in rage whenever Jin GuangYao showed up in Qinghe to talk or to check on Huaisang.

Liar. Snake. Killkillkill.

Huaisang almost gave in a couple of times, he felt her, the energy rising, his qi boiling, he felt himself tuning out the words Jin guangyao was speaking. 

Mingjue was always there, sitting invisible beside him, a calming hand over his arm, calm as he never had been before. Calm now because his little brother needed him more than ever. - huaisang should have guessed by then that no spirit murdered so viciously by their sworn brother would be that calm. Perhaps deep down he knew already, and still he kept the spirit by his side. - 

The first time was weird. He knew what was happening, he recognized it, he thought back at everything his brother taught him over the years, about control and redirecting his energy in the right direction. 

But Jin guangyao was speaking, and speaking, and speaking and nie huaisang saw red. Not in the metaphorical sense, but literally. Everything was tuned in a red hue. 

"just a minor deviation.” The healer said when he came back to his senses in his bed, Jin guangyao and lan xichen on the door, looking concerned, his saber nowhere to be seen. 

"it's still in the council room." his brother said, sitting on the edge of the mattress, a pained look on his face. "heavens, is that how it feels to watch your brother go into a qi deviation? No wonder you were always so worried." 

"it was a small one. No need to make that face." he said, and he would've reached out even, to touch the spirit despite knowing all too well his hand would pass through it, but, he realized, he wasn't alone, and now the two other sect leaders and the healer turned to look at him. 

"huaisang…" Jin guangyao started. 

"no need to worry. Really. Stop." 

Leave. Leave. Leave. Snake. 

"please leave… I'm tired. I would like to rest a little." he slid back down on the mattress and turned. 

Kill him. Now. Now. 

"No. - he whispered to himself, too low for them to hear as they left the room. - not yet. Patience, my dear… Patience." 

I'm patient. She whispered in his mind as huaisang drifted to sleep. That's my name, master. Rěnnài. 

How fitting. He thought falling asleep, his brother's spirit looking over him with a soft smile. 

"you need to be more careful. You're too young to start having qi deviations." mingjue told him one day. He increased the meditation time, and the training, Rěnnài was almost a constant whisper by then, not only in anger whenever Jin GuangYao was around, but kind, and sweet, an almost purring sound when he felt distressed and she didn't want to talk. 

"you were younger, Da-ge." 

"I witnessed our father being murdered." 

"I witnessed you being murdered." 

"no, you didn't." and there wasn't blame or scolding in his voice, huaisang saw how he lowered his eyes and looked away. 

"I did. That last deviation, in jinlintai…" 

"I didn't die that day." 

Huaisang turned, leaving the letter for lan xichen on the desk unfinished. 

"what do you mean?" he asked, words clear, eyes dark. "you were alive? I could have saved you?" 

Mingjue didn't answer. 

Memories were strange. Most spirits didn't have many memories, some of them, spirits tainted by yin energy  had twisted memories, what they really thought was true. MingJue's spirit was strange. He remembered details of their shared past, not much about the time before Huaisang's birth, not much about the Sunshot campaign either, and he remembered his death. But he remembered it in the way huaisang slowly discovered it. Somehow he was never angry, not at him, not at his enemies, not at his sworn brothers. It was like all the resentful energy had been taken by his saber, not locked in the Nie Tomb. Baxia had been the reason the legend of the man-eating tomb had been restored. She was angry, she was furious and thirsty for blood. Uncontrollable. Bleeding yin energy and letting it seep in the stones and on the ground, howling for an ancient pain and sorrow. Baxia cried, and her cries shook the earth and the mind of whoever tried to get closer. 

The spirit looked ethereal, innocent, untouched by any evil. Pure and kind as he watched his brother plan a year's long revenge. It was the mingjue huaisang remembered from childhood, the young boy always by his side, hiding gifts for him be they sweets or a new brush, or even a little bird he found on the ground. The spirit was a memory. Huaisang knew and didn't care. 

"I'm going to cut him in pieces." he said, fingers gently caressing the blade red with the blood of the demon he took down in the night hunt, his face blank, eyes dark and dangerous. "limb after limb. I will bury him in ashes and forbid his soul to ever return." 

Voices ran fast in the cultivation world. There were words about darkness, a mist surrounding the unclean realm, coldness enveloping Qinghe in a tight embrace. People of Qinghe never noticed the difference and the Nie sect remained powerful even with the head-shaker as their leader. But the head-shaker was no fool and spread even more words around, watching them unfold and travel. 

"grief is clouding your mind, huaisang." lan xichen said once. "I don't blame you for that, we've all been too young when the weight of our sects fell on us, but it's been years, your sect needs you and—" 

"what are you trying to say, Er-ge? - remain calm, huaisang. Calm. Xichen is a friend, he tries to help you, he always did. - should I dismiss mourning robes for something else just because other sects would feel better than to see the little sect leader still wearing white?"

Xichen hesitated briefly. 

"of course I'm not asking you that, just… try to restrain your grief, just a little. For yourself first and foremost." 

"he means well, huaisang." mingjue whispered by his side. 

Rěnnài growled, her hilt almost white-hot in huaisang's hold, his qi flaring up in a rage he had never experienced before. That was it. That was the point of no return. 

He took a deep breath and held his saber in his hand before bowing to lan xichen. 

"I'm sorry. - no, I'm not. You forced my hand in that. - thank you Er-ge." for showing me the way to take from now on. 

Revenge took a different path since that instant. Huaisang had always liked Lan XiChen in the past, but his words were too similar too close to what Jin GuangYao told him, Lan Xichen had always been too close to Jin GuangYao over the years, even before they became brothers, when he was still Meng Yao. He trusted him when he was inside the Qishan Wen Sect, he trusted him every time Nie MingJue said he shouldn’t. Foolishly Huaisang had trusted him too.

“That had never been your fault, Didi.” His brother said, his hand caressing his hair, he could almost feel him, it was almost like he was really there. “He’s always been good with words.”

“You told Er-ge about the music…” It wasn’t a question, yet Nie MingJue nodded

“I’m hardly an expert, - He told him sitting beside Huaisang and letting his eye navigate the desk and the letter he was writing. - but I had my own training in music too. I may not place the exact difference, but I knew there was something. But XiChen… Xichen trusted Yao too much. He trusted him over me.”

“And he will pay for that.” Huaisang assured him. “He will pay the second higher price.”

He sealed the letter and gave it to a raven that would deliver it without failing. As the bird flew over the walls of the Unclean Realm Nie Huaisang smiled. The last part of his revenge was now in motion and no one ever suspected him. Not even Wei WuXian when he met him after the resurrection in the poor, lonely Jin bastard Mo XuanYu. The boy was kind, he was sweet and shy and, beside falling in love with the wrong person one time, he did not deserve the treatment he got from both the Jin Sect and the Mo family. He had been so easy to convince, he had nothing to lose and, in all truth, everything to gain. Nie Huaisang felt a pang of guilt at that. His first, innocent blood for a revenge that would shake earth and heavens if needed.

“Did I step too far?” He asked one evening as he was getting ready for bed.

“Depends on what you consider too far, Didi.”

“Disciples are starting to say my sickness is getting worse. And my temper is no better.”

“And what do they know, in truth?” Nie MingJue wondered. “Of the pain we had to endure, and the long path to revenge. Let them speak.”

“Mo XuanYu was innocent. And I pushed him to perform the ritual.”

“He could have refused.”

“He wouldn’t have. I’ve been… convincing.” Nie Huaisang sighed sitting on the bed and looking at his brother standing by the window.

“There are three things that could have happened with the ritual, Huaisang. Remember what I taught you about purification?”

“That wasn’t a purification ritual. The opposite.” He complained.

“He could have refused. And things would have gone differently, revenge would have been postponed. - Huaisang nodded slightly. - He could have tried and failed.”

“For all XuanYu was a poor cultivator there was no way for him to fail if he followed all the passages. The papers I gave him contained every single thing to do and say, how and when.”

“You’re missing one point. He had to want it. His heart had to want what he was doing. His soul and his energy had to be in perfect balance. Without wanting it he would have failed. Just like purifications.”

Huaisang sighed.

“Well, everything worked out as expected anyway, right?”

“Right.”

Nie Huaisang sat on the stairs of the temple as the inside halls were ablaze, his plan finally unfold and not a secret anymore, the people that once knew him were now eying him warily but he didn’t care. Jin GuangYao was dead, he was finally dead, gone. For good. He held the hat smeared with blood in his hands, squeezed it, Rěnnài was purring low in his mind, satisfied the snake was finally dead, even if not by her own blade.

Sister will be at peace now. She hummed and Huaisang breathed out slowly. Yes, Baxia will finally be able to rest, her rage quited by his death.

His brother too.

He looked up, in the middle of the courtyard Nie MingJue was waiting, he cocked the head and smiled, Baxia was stripped on his back for the first time since his spirit appeared to Huaisang.

“What now?”

“Why?” Lan Xichen asked, voice strangled in his throat, he sat next to Huaisang and didn’t look at him.

“Mh? Why what? Why I orchestrated all of that?” Huaisang asked, eyes still fixed on his brother, almost fearing he would disappear now that he was finally avenged. “He trusted you, Er-ge. Da-ge trusted you more than anyone else, and you dismissed his worries.”

“I… I never wanted that to happen…”

“No one did, and yet here we are. Let’s be honest, Sect Leader Lan, you brought this on yourself, I walk away with a clean conscience, whether you believe it or not.”

He stood and walked up to the middle of the courtyard stopping briefly next to his brother.

“Are you going to leave now?”

“I think you know the answer already.” Huaisang looked away and sighed.

“Of course I do, of course. - He looked at MingJue one last time before the figure dissolved from his sight. - You’ve never been really here to begin with.”

#nie huaisang #nie mingjue #sentient saber spirits #years slow revenge #hallucinations #dark huaisang #the untamed #cql #Mo dao zu shi #mdzs #mdzs fic #Grandmaster of demonic cultivation #founder of diabolism #fanfic #nanowrimo 2020 #angst collection in cultivation #aki writes

[afterthelastreset]

Kris’s Soul Theories

Ok. So I was talking with my pal @makiswak about these and thought I’d share them here. These are just possible theories I came up with while rewatching the playthroughs of Deltarune and that scene of Kris ripping their soul out. So I thought of these to help maybe explain it. Hope you all like it.

Theory 1: KRIS IS POSESSED BY SOMETHING

The red soul is something else and something is posessing Kris. Before you all go out and point at Chara, Chara wasn’t ever really a bad person (watch the theories about it on youtube) so Chara wouldn’t posess someone. Plus we’ve never seen Chara posess someone cannically so- Plus there’s no WAY it could be Chara for 2 specific reasons.  

 1. This is a separate au from Undertale and the two games are two separate cannons as stated by Toby Fox  

2. Asriel ain't dead so Chara is probably alive and well somewhere too, college aged since in Undertale they were the same age, and it seems everyone is their cannon age here

But ghosts ARE a real thing in undertale like Napstablook and we see a house similar to his house in town so maybe Kris Is being posessed by a evil ghost monster. And before someone suggest Frisk it couldn’t be either. Frisk was WAY younger than Chara or Asriel might’ve been and the only way Asriel was the same age as them in Undertale was because he was dead and an ageless flower for so long, and when he was brought back he reverted back to the age he was when he died. Everyone seems to be the same age they are as they were in Undertale. So Cannoncally if we’re calculating the numbers right, Frisk would be alive and younger than Asriel possibly even younger than Kris. So they’re not an option either, and Frisk was never shown with red eyes or a knife in game.

Theory 2: THE SOUL IS THE PLAYER

 The soul is the player is probably the most obvious and likely but I’ll  include it too just to be fair. So this one’s pretty basic. What is it’s US that’s possesing Kris and Kris is just rejecting the player’s control over them? It wouldn’t be the first time we got a fourth wall break. Remember in Undertale when Sans winked at us when he made the joke when Papyrus first appeared? And it didn’t seem like Kris was ever a cruel or dangerous person? Sure he scared Noelle by hiding under her bed but that sounds like something kids typically do. Scare their friends as pranks whether by hiding under the bed or jumping from around a corner. What if Kris only has the knife to defend himself? Because like everyone says in the game, Kris is a quiet kid but he never hurt anyone. Even in the 'genocide' run of the game no one dies. So what if Kris is holding back from the player's commands and shows us a his scary face as a warning? Because he doesn't want to hurt anyone.

Theory 3: THE WHOLE THING IS JUST A METAPHOR

Yep! What if Kris ISNT really ripping out their soul and what we see is just Toby Fox animating out what Kris is eternally feeling inside? It isn’t that too far of a stretch. This is Toby Fox who made Undertale, a game where a skeleton broke the fourth wall once, a ghost who possesses a robot, and talking goat’s who want to adopt you. And in undertale Toby included two meanings of ‘Love’. The love you gain in the pacifist route and L.O.V(Level of violence) for the genocide. And Sans uses all kinds of metaphors, jokes, and puns to refer to things. Why would it be too far a stretch that what we see isn’t actually happening and just symbolism to how Kris is feeling inside? 

What if the soul IS Kris's soul, but he’s not ACTUALLY pulling it out and it’s what he’s feeling? You know what a soul looks like? YEP!! A HEART!! His ‘soul’ could be representing his heart. There’s things call heartache and heartbreak. And this kid has a LOT to be heartbroken over. He was adopted so he’s probably already feeling lost not knowing what his real family’s like, he’s the only human in a town of monsters, his adopted parents are divorced, his brother's not home anymore, and he has no friends outside maybe Noelle except when he meets Susie and the dark world gang. 

What if Kris pulling out his soul out of his chest symbolizes his escape from all the hurtful emotions he's feeling? What if he's not REALLY ripping out his soul and what we see is just what Kris FEELS like is happening? He feels his 'heart being ripped from his chest'(which is already a real metaphor) and the red eyes and knife could just be metaphors too. Like the red eyes could just mean he's angry and the knife could just mean he feels like he has to defend himself from everyone because of what he's going through. Well what about his crazy smile and his trapped soul in the cage? Well his smile could symbolize him always smiling away the pain he’s feeling, and the cage could symbolize all the hope and love he wants to feel is buried deep down trapped in this cage he feels himself trapped in.

And if you point out the cage and the wagon is always in the game, it could be just a symbol throughout the game. Like maybe Kris feels constantly trapped by his emotions and doesn’t know how to stop carrying it around with him hence the wagon. Because he might feel like he’s dragging his caged weight with him everywhere. And the other thing’s that happen in the animation. Kris looking like he’s being throw outta bed and being forced to throw his soul out like a puppet. Perhaps it symbolizes that Kris feels he has to force himself to do this, to force himself against his better judgement to cage these emotions so avoid anymore pain?

Maybe Im looking to far into this but with Toby Fox anything is possible.

Theory 4: IT’S ALL JUST A NIGHTMARE

Kinda an extension of my third theory but hey, like I said with Toby Fox anything is possible here so us seeing Kris’s nightmare isn’t too far a stretch too.

So here me out. The animation with the soul shows us nighttime with Kris in bed before the soul ripping out thing even happens so what if Kris is having a night mare and in this nightmare, he’s reliving through all the emotions and trauma he’s experiencing? Just some more possible symbolism here, but the part where Kris falls out of bed could possible symbolize that this dream has happened before since’s he’s eerily silent. Maybe he’s had this dream so many times to be barely affected anymore. If so then poor Kris. Again this one doesn’t hold up as much as the other three do but it’s one regardless.

Theory 5: THIS IS JUST A PREVEIW

The whole game’s not done so maybe the end of the first chapter is just a small preview of what WILL happen but HASN’T yet. After all in some games like Bendy And The Ink Machine after every chapter it showed a small preview of what’s to come for the next one. Perhaps Toby was just showing us what was to happen in later chapters to come? 

Well these are my five theories of what’s actually going on in that one scene. Tell me what you guys think of all this?

#Kris #Deltarune #Deltarune soul

[kyedrinkscola]

Posting my first chapter onto here!!

Yes, I AM kyedrinkscola from Wattpad. I mainly draw, but on here I’ll focus on writing.

Also, if you’ve read the latest chapters, you KNOW that Ink isn’t a goody two shoes.

-

Error's PoV:

I don't care anymore. I've been beaten down so many times, what does it matter? According to the voices, however, it DOES matter.

"You lazy son of a bitch."

"Get up! Stop complaining!"

"You need to destroy the AU's, Error! Now get the fuck up!"

"Guys, please-"

"SHUT UP, ANON. HE CLEARLY DOESN'T DESERVE PITY. HE'S USELESS."

Tears run down my face silently, as I listen to this massacre in my head. I sigh eventually, getting up. I might as well destroy a world. I crack my knuckles, trembling slightly. Ink was definitely going to try and kill me.

I teleport to Underfell copy 279. I'm so sick of killing. I'm so sick of destroying.

I hate myself down to the core of my being.

I start from the Ruins. I'm barely in the Judgement Hall when I hear an unholy scream behind me.

"GrEAt, it'S inK," I whisper to myself. He looks extremely pissed off when I turn around. "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" Ink screams. "YOU ALWAYS DESTROY MY CREATIONS, ERROR! I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF YOU!"

I sigh, broken inside. This will be one hell of a fight. I refuse to initiate the fight, however. I'm not a sadist, nor a masochist. I just wanted Ink to stop creating, and understand the Balance.

He swings his stupid paintbrush at me with the look of pure murder. I dodge, my face emotionless. At this rate, I'm going to be suffering at the end.

He growls, trying to swing at me again. I tie him up with my strings, squeezing his body a bit harder than intended. He yelps, pain flashing his face.

I sigh. "BUdDY. CaN i exPLaIN wHY i dEStrOy??" He glares at me. "You're just going to say the same damn answer. 'There's a balance, and you're ruining it.' Am I right?"

My breathing hitches. Dread flashed across my face for a fraction of a second, and he sees it, smirking. "I knew it. You're faking your emotions. I knew you were emotionless!"

Wait... what? Confusion apparently stays on my face, so he chuckles. "Damn, okay. Faking your frowns too? Listen, BUDDY. I create, you destroy. You're a piece of garbage, and I hope you die."

I feel tears swimming in my eye sockets. He just laughs. "I'm getting to ya, huh? Yeah, that's right. Grow up, piece of trash, I can't babysit."

I feel like I'm going to call out for help. For death.

But nobody would come, right? So I just pull up the console. I notice Ink's expression go from glee to utter panic. "WAIT! ERROR, PLEASE DON'T DESTROY THIS WORLD! I WORKED SO HARD ON IT-"

I destroy the world, and dump us into separate portals. I don't care if he worked his ass off to make it. I still need to destroy, or the Balance will come undone.

I start crying and muttering to myself in the AntiVoid. Little did I know... I was gonna have a really bad time in a few hours.

Ink's PoV:

I scream loudly the moment I reach my new destination. Apparently the idiot dropped me off in front of my house, because Dream and Blueberry immediately ran to open the door, comforting me.

Tears of sadness and anger roll down my cheeks. WHY? WHY WOULD HE DO THIS? DOES HE NOT KNOW IT CAUSES ME PHYSICAL PAIN WHEN HE ATTACKS AND DESTROYS?!

Of course he wouldn't. I never told him, because then he'd destroy until I died. "Balance", what an excuse. He just wants to kill and kill and kill. I hate him.

So why do I feel guilty? Why do I hate myself, too? I don't understand. I'll never understand.

Me and the Star Sanses decide for make a meeting. There, we and the other Sanses and Papyruses decide we've had enough of Error. We make a plan to ambush and kill him, once and for all. He'll finally stop ruining everything. He'll stop ranting about the "Balance".

I create a blank AU, nothing in it. Time to wait.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Finally, he arrives. I start my usual spiel about how he can give up, and become allies, and stop destroying.

He looks genuinely sad for 2 minutes, contemplating. He frowns. I know he's going to say no, I can feel it.

"I'm really sorry Ink," he says with no glitches. I'm genuinely shocked for a second, especially at how he sounds and how vulnerable he's acting. "But I can't. The Balance-"

I immediately cut him off. Fuck the Balance. Fuck whatever the hell kind of spiel he was gonna make. We're gonna kill him and he'll pay for this utter and complete chaos.

I snap my fingers. Immediately, Sanses and Papyruses race out of my portals. Error looks utterly terrified as I smirk. We attack.

He looks so scared, how fucking weak is this guy? But why do I still feel so guilty?

We break him down until he's barely recognizable. He's so bloodied up and bruised that only his ripped clothes give him away as Error.

I grin wildly. Finally, to kill him. But as I walk towards him, he whimpers and tries to pull himself away from me. Is he.... crying?

"P1EaS3!! ST0P!! I H4t3 MYSelF EN0UGH ALR34DY!!" Error cries out. I stop suddenly.

He... hates himself?

Is he... depressed...?

Holy fuck. I think I attacked him so much, he became depressed. He cries and sobs, curling up into a ball on the floor. How could I do this, even to HIM?

I finally CHECK him, my breathing hitching when I see his stats for the first time. Everyone is silent as I start crying.

"E7R0r S4nS - ATK 28$:8;692, DEF 0

The Forced God of Destruction; made to suffer and cry at the hands of Fate herself.

Fate's second creation, the first being The God of Creation, Ink. Torn from his AU and tortured, he was forced into a duty that he despises with all of his soul. Now, he's severely traumatized and depressed, as he destroys AU's to keep the Balance intact.

Isn't it funny, how because Ink was too selfish to stop his first creation spree, a Sans was torn from an AU, and forced to become a killer? Isn't it funny, how because Ink was so selfish and cruel and disgusting, he destroyed the remainder of his sanity?

Isn't it funny, how much Geno!Sans, the original one suffered, getting pulled from his own AU, becoming THIS?"

I start sobbing. This is Geno!Sans? The very first one I made?! Oh my stars, what the fuck have I done?! How could I not know there was a Balance?!

Error's PoV:

I hear loud sobbing in front of me as someone reads my soul's CHECK box. Is Ink finally realizing that there's a Balance?

I look up, wincing. Yep, it's Ink. Everything is out of focus, blurry, and I have to squint, but it's definitely Ink. Oh stars.

I summon a portal with the last of my magic, falling through it. I lay on the ground, finally sobbing and crying.

The voices just amplify my agony. I can't take this, after an hour of sobbing.

"I HATE MYSELF!" I scream, no glitches. "I HATE EVERY BONE OF MY BODY! I HATE EVERY MOMENT I LIVE! WHY?! WHY AM I BEING FORCED TO KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE?!"

I don't even notice that the Star Sanses are watching me break down. I don't even notice that Ink's eye lights aren't there.

"FUCK IT! I'M GOING TO KILL MYSELF! MAYBE THAT'LL TEACH THEM THAT I CAN'T HANDLE THIS ANYMORE! MAYBE THEN THEY'LL APPRECIATE ME! MAYBE THEN THEY'LL REALIZE THERES A FUCKIN BALANCE TO THE MULTIVERSE!" I scream.

I start sobbing again. I know I have to jump into the Void to truly die. I really, truly despise myself.

Ink finally speaks. "Error."

I freeze. He's in here with me? How much did he hear? Does he even really care? Will he just mock me?

He looks so morbidly sad. I shiver. What does he care about, it's not like he'll give a damn if I'm gone.

"I CHECKed your soul. I know your real name, Error. I know your backstory. I know how much you're suffering," he says.

I start sobbing again. He knows who I am?! That much was in my CHECK box?! Stuff even I don't know about?!

He sighs. "Don't kill yourself. Please. If what I'm thinking is right, if you die, the whole multiverse will die too."

Is that the only reason he cares?

"No, that's not the only reason I give a damn. I'll be stuck in a state of depression. The only person I've ever hurt, dead because I'm a terrible person. I... I really am an idiot."

"Shut up," I mumble. My voice cracks. He frowns, tearing up. "Error, please," Ink whispers.

I start laughing and crying. Nobody would actually care. I immediately create and jump into a portal, landing in Outertale.

I sigh, crying still. Nobody dares to talk to me as I approach the end of a cliff. Not until Ink finds me a few steps away from the edge.

"ERROR! GET AWAY FROM THE VOID!" Ink yells, his voice cracking slightly with agony. I'm surprised that he even found me.

Ink's PoV:

I find Error a few steps away from the Void cliff. My breathing stops for a second until I yell.

"ERROR! GET AWAY FROM THE VOID!" My voice cracks a little, and I tremble with sorrow. Error, don't kill yourself...

He stops, turning around and donning the most shaky grin I've ever seen. "S-shut up, i-ink blot. I-i'm doing i-it, and you can't s-stop me." My face falls.

"Error," I say sadly. "Get away from the Void." He just grins wider, but it's still shaking. "Goodbye, Inky." Wait- does he love me-?

"WAIT-!" I yell, and then he walks off the edge. My tears erupt from my eye sockets. I immediately run quickly to the edge, holding his stupid hand down. He looks shocked.

He smiles. "Ink, let go of my hand. I need to die." "N-no, please don't let g-go," I mumble, my tears running down my cheeks quickly.

I start sobbing. I don't want him to die. I start pulling him up from the Void. "Ink, please," he whispers. I pull him up completely, and he collides into me, knocking us down.

Shit. We're in a really awkward position now. I push him off, careful to not make him fall back into the Void. I'm probably a deep rainbow color.

"N-never do that again, you fucking i-idiot," I mumble. He freezes when I call him an idiot, fuck, I did something wrong again. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to insult you!" You did a complete 180 from how you were acting a few hours ago.

"... Ink."

"Y-yeah?" I mumble, still probably a rainbow color. "Why are you acting weird? Usually you're violent." I freeze completely. What do I say, 'Oh I saw your CHECK box so now I'm really concerned and possibly love you?' Hell no!

"Uhhh... I'm just.. I got concerned about you when I had read the CHECK box."

His face looks so blank. God, weird. "Ink, you care about me, right?"

I say yes. Of course I do! He starts crying again, apparently never having anyone to care about him. I pat his back lightly, already knowing about his haphephobia. He glitches a bit, but besides that, he's fine with it.

Stars, I feel so bad about doing this. He probably hates me. I wouldn't be mad if he did.

Then he hugs me. My face warms up drastically, and it's all I can take not to get him off. He mumbles something into the side of my torso. I don't even wanna ask what he said, he obviously doesn't wanna say.

He looks up, blushing a deep yellow. "S-sorry..." he mumbles. I think of something, my eyes widening.

"Error, can we make a truce?"

#undertale #undertale au #error sans #ink sans #errorink #erroink #fgod #forced god of destruction #fgod error #harrish6 #sans #sans undertale #abuse #attempted suicide #kyedrinkscola #wattpad writings #gitc #glitch in the code

[technooccult]

Womxn Mho Make Spiritual Machines--Jess Rowland

For my dissertation, I’m interviewing womxn in the performance art and music worlds who make spiritual machines, whatever that means to them.

1)Tell me how your performances tie into causes and ideas that are important to you personally? What are those ideas and causes?

I started out in a San Francisco scene that was anti-capitalist and anti-consumer. This experience deepened a line of thought I was already committed to - and I probably, on some subconscious level, was drawn to the community I found in the Bay Area. This was in the 90s, fyi, and since then a lot has changed. Some of the folks are still there, but most have moved on. A lot of my performance work is tied to an exploration of consumerism - I never really got into the more overtly political anti-capitalist thing. I grew up in a suburban world where consumerism was everything. It felt like to me a substitute for substance and a substitute for love. The idea that Ronald McDonald would stand in for your father, and that the bliss-point of snack food would make up for real meaning in one's life. I told people that corporations hated humanity. Most people disagree, but I still think it is largely true if you look at what consumerism has done to the planet. It's a lot of what Kurt Vonegut was talking about - How do you explain what people do to the planet and each other? The only answer he could make sense of was that people actually hated being alive and wanted it to stop. I saw my thinking as a continuation of that line of thinking. He was mostly talking about nuclear weapons, but I saw it more as the effect of consumerism and corporate American-style capitalism.

So, when I perform the eating of a bag of snack food, I'm acting out that process of how we take in consumerism as a substitute for nourishment and love, and that includes self-love. when I do the googlespreadsheet sonification, I'm talking about work, as in 9-to-5, and its emptiness. Sofy, you probably don't know this work, but I used to do a lot of video/music improv like "McDonaldland is Changing" and "John Ashcroft vs. the Space Librarians" and "The Barbie Explosion". This was my thinking mostly as I started out in performance, and I still explore that theme, though it has changed over time.

"McDonaldland is Changing" and "John Ashcroft vs. the Space Librarians" and

What has changed in the idea of the work is then - how does consumerism and work and consumer technology affect our body. Especially the body that wants to be expressed, for me that is Woman-ness and Woman power. When i think about how these forces of capital and consumption act on myself, I see the way the systems that are in place act against: transness, queerness, and the female body. Much of my adult life has been committed to expressing the feminine in myself. This is fundamentally a feminist, or trans-feminist perspective on consumerism. And, since consumerism acts - in our society - on the deepest levels of our being - how negative perceptions of the self work for capital and how love, if it is possible, can counter that. I hope when I perform ,there is a little bit of that love that can reach the audience, even in the darkest, most excorcism kinds of performance. Maybe there is a purging, the way to remove things from the deep insides.

These days, consumerism largely acts through technologies, cell phones, computers, etc. When I perform the laptop destruction or cellphone thing, it's an attempt at purging as a feminist action.

2)What are your thoughts on queer and feminist visibility? How do you express it in your work?

i think I might have just answered part of this question. Visibility = good! When i perform it is important that I am seen, that is part of the process of a ritual of purging. But more generally, I feel that trans visibility and trans-feminine energy needs to be out and about.

3)Can you describe your spirituality (or thoughts you have on spirituality) and how you express it/perform it in your work?

This is a big one Sofy! Growing up, i considered myself a Taoist, and largely I still do - at least as a spiritual practice. As a kid, i had an experience with music that was a sort of spiritual awakening, and when I started reading about Taoism, I realized it coincided with the kind of experience I had. I sometimes think of this as a sort of "musical taoism". The basic idea, if it is possible to express, is that the universe is energy which flows through everything and is, in fact, everything. Creativity allows us to tap into this energy, the way a radio can tune into a radio station. The truer you are to the moment you are in, the less the ego demands to assert itself, the less you fight against the natural power of that energy, the more that energy can work in a positive way in your life, but most import for us artists - the more you are in touch with the source of creation. and for me, this expresses itself mostly in music. This is where my commitment to improvised music started. In San Francisco, I had a band called Spork, which was committed to this idea. It was (at least at first) a 100% improvised ensemble. We never played the same music twice, because no two moments are the same. when we were in touch with the power of that energy, we felt it and it shows in the music. I'm still committed to improvisation, and it acts in my performance as a force which can counter consumerism, conformity, and surface-awareness. The energy of the universe I consider primarily a feminine force, and - as you know so well - we have our group dedicated to the Electromagnetic Goddess.

"The Barbie Explosion"https://www.discogs.com/Jess-Rowland-Scenes-From-The-Silent-Revolution/release/3879362

overall speaker stuffhttp://www.jessrowland.com/art/

music for earringshttp://www.jessrowland.com/music-for-earrings/ laptop destructohttps://vimeo.com/154124264

piano rollhttps://vimeo.com/249305849

Electromagnetism and the spirituality of electromagnetism is huge in my practice. In addition to the Bunker, my art practice focuses a lot on homemade paper speakers and other unexpected sound-making objects using embedded circuitry, all relying on electromagnetism. These are technological objects. But they stand against consumer technology. It is a feminist statement against the system of technology which corporations try to force us into. this work is also essential an expression of my particular journey as a trans person: it explores voice as hidden impulse, a speaker where no speaker is allowed, sound made manifest. Quite often my works require interactivity to activate sound, the active search for the truth of bodies that are otherwise hidden, bodies inhabited by sound. A good example of how this feminist critic of music technology plays out, is my audio jewelry and music for body space. a vast majority of music technology has a masculinist-aesthetic, a robocop or terminator kind of feel to it. With the audio jewelry I wanted to challenge that aesthetic explicitly. I created some music for the audio jewelry, a four channel spatialized piece (2 earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet). In making the music, I played off the idea of an "etheric body", the aura that supposedly surrounds the body. The music is meant to generate a sound-field to protect the feminine body, or as I sometimes call it "sound perfume".

My circuit prints are often stand-ins for the body, and the electromagnetism contained therein is a stand-in (or might literally be!) spirit. The foil surfaces are meant to act like the metallic gold leafs and precious stone inks of Illuminated Manuscripts, as a connection point to deeper truths.

I'm currently reading "The Mysticism of Sound and Music" by Hazrat Inayat Khan,a Sufi musician and mystic, which expresses these ideas - and more! - about sound as the source of all power and the center of the body in ways better than I could. It is interesting to see so many of the thoughts I've had about sound as a spiritual power from a taoist perspective, be matched from the perspective of Sufism, a different (though slightly connected) spiritual tradition than Taoism.

"The Mysticism of Sound and Music" by Hazrat Inayat Khan https://www.shambhala.com/the-mysticism-of-sound-and-music-1071.html

Snaxxx https://vimeo.com/319382872

4)Tell me about your electronic techniques, hardware or software configurations or objects you have made to create your unique sound. Basically I am curious about the tools of your trade as, on the technical side this is a very NIME-like round up of performers. You can speak about a particular piece or your practice at large.

These days, I use Max a lot. Though I use it in a specific way - as a controller of sound, but not as a content-creating device. Snaxxx, for example, uses Max as a signal threshold detector for a contact mic on the snack bag. The detector then triggers pre-recorded sounds to play. The sounds themselves were recorded from a performance of feedback elements. Outside of Max, almost all my tools are analog, the input sound is analog and the output is often played through analog materials. In this way, I think of my technology practice quite often as "postdigital". The paper speakers are probably the best representation of my kind of postdigital aesthetic. I use foils and magnets to create embedded circuitry, and some of these objects are intended for performance, at least of a sort. I have performed on the piano roll before, which uses circuit-completion with a foil backing on the piano roll, connected to a computer running Max. Again, using signal threshold, the circuit completion triggers pre-recorded sounds. I still rely on old-fashioned pedals, which often I find more effective and useful than staring at a Max patch for hours on end. Laptop Destruction uses contact mics hidden in the laptop to be sent through loop pedal, delay, reverb, and ring modulator. The cell phone piece uses induction - like our Bunker performance - and also contact mics on the cellphone. So: lots of contact mics, induction mics, analog signal generation and completion, often connected to Max.

5)Please provide me with a short bio

Jess Rowland is a sound artist, musician, and composer, and a 2018-20 Princeton Arts Fellow. Much of her work explores the relationship between technologies and popular culture, continually aiming to reconcile the world of art and the world of science. At UC Berkeley, she developed techniques for embedded sound and flexible speaker arrays. Her research includes music perception, auditory neurosciences, and music technologies. In addition to an active art practice, she has taught Sound Art at The School of Visual Arts in New York and continues to present her work internationally. Recent installations and performances include the New York Electronic Arts Festival, Simons Center for Geometry and Physics, Berkeley Art Museum, and Spectrum NYC.

#jess rowland #handmade musical instruments #art #interviews #sofy yuditskaya #technoshamanism #feminism #punk

[x0401x]

Inktober 2019

I don’t know how many people got to know about it, but the arson attack at Kyoto Animation claimed its 36th victim this October, thus I decided to use KyoAni’s main titles for my very first time taking part in Inktober. Here’s to hoping that this will serve as a small homage to whoever it was, whose passing won’t be as widely regarded as the previous ones.

All 31 illustrations in full size and their descriptions under the cut.

Basically a collection of very simple ink sketches made in a hurry. Some were drawn with KyoAni’s style, some with my own style and some were a blending of both. I don’t particularly like how grainy the scans turned out after being diminished because it makes them look like digital art instead of ink art, but it’s a fact that they were too big to fit in one post otherwise. Anyway, here goes nothing...

Day 1: Ring Kuriyama Mirai (Kyoukai no Kanata) Pretty self-explanatory, and also the picshot that started this mini-project (yes, I took it with my phone). The others are all proper scans, though.

Day 2: Mindless Akiyama Mio (K-On!) From the movie’s ending clip.

Day 3: Bait Shinonome Nano and Hakase (Nichijou) Rock, paper, shark.

Day 4: Freeze Asakura Ryouko (Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu/Shoushitsu) “I will nullify your data link.”

Day 5: Build Hidaka Yumemi (Munto) Connecting two worlds to create another.

Day 6: Husky Matsuoka Rin (Free!) When your throat is screwed and you’re straight-up not having a good time.

Day 7: Enchanted Kamio Misuzu and “Sora” (Air) Just your average dying girl and her bird not-boyfriend.

Day 8: Frail Okazaki Nagisa and Okazaki Ushio (Clannad) “When winter arrives, she won’t be able to move anymore.”

Day 9: Swing Tsukimiya Ayu and Misaka Shiori (Kanon) Based on official art.

Day 10: Pattern Izumi Konata (Lucky Star) Cheer uniform, revisited. I was motivated to draw proper stars at first, but kinda got lazy halfway, lol.

Day 11: Snow Nagato Yuki (Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu/Shoushitsu) and Minase Nayuki (Kanon) From the movie and episode 23.

Day 12: Dragon Tooru (Kobayashi-san Chi no Maid Dragon) I mean, come on.

Day 13: Ash Sagara Sousuke (Full Metal Panic) Always ready to blow shit up and watch the world burn. Me, a fool: What if I try to draw him in FMP’s old-school style? My utterly cursed hands: what are eyes

Day 14: Overgrown Suzumiya Haruhi (Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu/Shoushitsu) Long hair version but without all the brooding.

Day 15: Legend Okazaki Tomoya (Clannad) “Have you ever heard about the legend of this city? Whenever something fortunate happens, a glow of light appears.”

Day 16: Wild Shindou Ayaka, Shindou Ai, Yakiimo (Kyoukai no Kanata) and “Sawatari Makoto” (Kanon) Two foxes, one cat and one ball of floof.

Day 17: Ornament Chintanda Eru (Hyouka) “I’m here to show off.”

Day 18: Misfit Ishida Shouya and Nishimiya Shouko (Koe no Katachi) “Ishida-kun is a bully, so you’re better off not getting involved with him.”

Day 19: Sling Togashi Yuuta (Chuunibyou demo Koi ga Shitai!) “I don’t know anything about that.”

Day 20: Tread Gilbert Bougainvillea (Violet Evergarden) “He had a charm that drew people to him, but he himself didn’t have much interest in others. He was a man who only ever thought about how he’d tread the pure-white path towards his own future that had been laid out to him.”

Day 21: Treasure Violet Evergarden (Violet Evergarden) “It is the same color as Major’s eyes. I have always thought that they were ‘beautiful’. I did not know the word, which is why I had never said it. But Major’s eyes, from the moment we first met, were ‘beautiful’ to me.”

Day 22: Ghost Nakahara Komugi (Nurse Witch Komugi-chan Magikarte) “So when you die, it’s like, ‘Okay, that’s all folks’, huh?”

Day 23: Ancient Narumiya Minato and Takigawa Masaki (Tsurune) Yawatashi no Gi.

Day 24: Dizzy Oumae Kumiko (Hibike! Euphonium) “You hadn’t been drinking anything at all, had you?”

Day 25: Tasty Hazuki Nagisa (Free!) “It’s delicious. It’s filled with strawberry jam and marmalade, coated with chocolate and only costs 480 yen! So cheap!”

Day 26: Dark Edward Jones (Violet Evergarden) “It’s not like I killed without thinking. I have lots of reasons. You got time to listen to all of them?”

Day 27: Coat Enigma (Musaigen no Phantom World) Quite literal.

Day 28: Ride Kunisaki Yukito (Air) “Where I’m going, you ask? Who knows? I wonder where. That’s right, you should try to ask Misuzu. She’ll be tagging along with me for a while.”

Day 29: Injured Kanie Seiya (Amagi Brilliant Park) Having a rifle thrust at your face must hurt like a bitch and leave marks, and I just love that this isn’t addressed, like, ever.

Day 30: Catch Kitashirakawa Tamako (Tamako Market) “Ah! My mistake! Throw one back!”

Day 31: Ripe Momokawa Inako (Nijuu Seiki Denki Mokuroku) The next work in line, ready to receive the baton. I can’t wait to see you.

#free #kobayashi san chi no maid dragon #hyouka #suzumiya haruhi #koe no katachi #lucky star #clannad #kyoukai no kanata #hibike euphonium #k on! #nichijou #violet evergarden #musaigen no phantom world #chuunibyou demo koi ga shitai #full metal panic #tamako market #air #kanon #tsurune #nurse witch komugi chan #kyoani #kyoto animation #inktober #inktober 2019

[happyhearthooligan]

Master List Oct Edition 2019

(2/2)

This half contains the Yandere Month Special, Classic Undertale headcanons, Multiple AU asks, other headcanons that didn’t quite fit the first half, and franstastic-ideas’ other posts

The first half contains AU-centric headcanons excluding Classic Undertale

franstastic-ideas - October Content (Continued)

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

Yandere Month

Oct 3

Frisk is on an ambassador trip?

Mafia Yandere hcs on both our sweet Frans ♡

Yandere King Sans and his Lady Ambassador!

Cryptozoologist Frans but… yandere~

More yandere for me please! have you heard of Echofell?

What about Murder Frans (Murder Sans x Frisk)

Ink x Draw? (InkSans x InkFrisk) but yandere???

Yandere Error x Core?

Horrortale brothers in the least to most nuttiest yandere spectrum?

These are my questions about the yandere skeletons…

Oct 4

Yandere version of the Convergence AU?

Any headcanons for yandere Storyshift bros?

Yandere lamia??

Oct 6 - How about a yandere Frister?

Oct 9

Haven’t really seen much yandere!G!Sans. Could you do that?

Yandere Headcanons on Nightmare and Dream?

If a female touched his lady as a platonic gesture? (Yandere!G)

If G!Frisk somehow found out how Yandere G can be

Oct 10 - Yandere Outertale?

Oct 22

Yandere cuddles with the Swap brothers

What would Yandere Dance be like

Oct 23

So what about a yandere Dusttale story

What would Yandere WraithTale Sans do with Rosalyn

Killing is extremely rare and saved for severe occasions

Oct 24 - If Chara escaped and Papyrus was unable to find her?

Oct 27 - "He wouldn’t sleep until she was found"

Classic Undertale

Oct 1

Imagine Sans never confessing

Frisk & Chara hear a lot of puns and knock-knock jokes from Toriel

Why does UT Chara hate humanity?

Does Frisk or Chara have a backstory

Thoughts on Asgore and Toriel coming back together

Oct 2 - Canon fact or a fan theory, Frisk fell 100 years, after Chara

Oct 3

Some Papyrus x Chara x Asriel hcs

Chasriel and Frans double date?

Oct 4

Frisk and Sans reconcile after getting into an argument?

How about some Gaster x Frisk x Sans hijinks?

Accidentally ripping your pants in front of your S/O

Oct 5

Other than losing Frisk, what does Sans fear?

Is Chara a tsundere?

Oct 6 - Why did UT Frisk climb the mountain?

Oct 8 - Sans’s Reaction to Papara In a Nutshell

Oct 9 - If Frisk did a genocide run and she had to kill Sans?

Oct 10

Frisk can flirt with Goat Mom and canonically flirts with Papyrus

Why Sans was creeping around before introducing himself?

Oct 11 - What are Frisk and Sans’ favorite seasons

Oct 12

UT Frisk as someone who flirts with pretty much everyone

Is UT Sans was a bit more eccentric and wild about his work?

Would Pap ask Chara about letting him in the Royal Guard?

Oct 14

What does Papyrus think of Grillby himself?

Do the Charas like to play with their Asriel's ears?

Asriel will state that Chara "wasn't the greatest person’

How do you think Asriel and Papyrus feel about each other overall?

"Prone to random bouts of stupidity when Chara is involved."

"And they have to share". Do you mean Chara or that one braincell?

When Asriel and Papyrus are competing, how does Chara react?

Chara's reaction to Sans’ secretly trolling Pap online would be?

Oct 21 - Do the skeletons have peeves that their human lover does?

Oct 22

How would Gaster and Sans respond to a third rival

How Frisk/Chara felt about Alphys’ crush on Toriel and Asgore?

Undertale cuddles? o3o I want more of those!

How you think Frans would spend a rainy day

How about surprise kisses? Chara initiating their first kiss?

Would Chara be the one to tell Papyrus about his cooking?

Has Sans or Papyrus seen natural disasters while on the surface?

Would Chara tell Pap Undyne’s feelings of him and the Royal Guard

Oct 23

Can we have some of that Frister cuddles?

What would Sans and Mettaton's relationship be?

In Undyne and Alphys' wedding. Frisk caught the bouquet!

Frisk/Chara receive X-rays. How do their boyfriends see it?

Papyrus with a human anatomy book of undeniable proof

Oct 26 - If Frisk put herself on a near death state to save someone?

Oct 27 - Paps has told a skele-ton of puns in the game

Oct 28

"Papyrus thinks his jokes are better than Sans’s." Does Sans agree?

Do you think that Chara met Dr. Gaster?

Perhaps Sans and Flowey aren’t the only ones aware of the resets

How do you think Chara behaved at first towards the Dreemurrs?

Papyrus' reaction was when he found out that MK was a fan of his?

Oct 29

When you check the family photo, Chara's response would be "..."

Do you think that Chara cuddled with Asriel?

Oct 30 - "Papyrus feels the need to inspect them… just in case."

Multiple AU Headcanons

Oct 1 - More Gpapara headcanons please! Child of the ruins too?

Oct 2 - Frans AUs reacts to Frisk suddenly dying and not resetting?

Oct 6 - Is Gaster Sans' older brother in these AUs or something else

Oct 8

In order from least to most, who are the ten biggest tsunderes

UT Frisk and US Chara when bfs are telling puns to other women?

Minus HT Sans, who are the most protective/possessive?

Oct 9

Skelebros react to someone very openly checking out their ladies?

Soft UT Papara, soft househusband Green, and soft UF Papara

With each Papara and Frans couple, who kissed who first?

Oct 10

Skelehusbands favorite places to kiss on their wives?

What would Older/Married Skelehusbands give to Younger selves?

Seeing his favorite human trying on his scarf

How do the Sanses react once Frisk starts aging...

What would their skeleton lovers react to "that time of the month"?

Oct 11

How do the Sanses feel if Frisk had a previous love interest...

UF, US, and SF Sans and Frisk are pregnant but the girls don't know

Would Soul sensing be the same in reverse?

Aww, man. I was hoping for them to freak out or something

Where do their wives like to kiss their favorite skeleton?

Lol, I can only imagine how freaked out they'd get. :3

If “previous love interest” caused Frisk to have a negative reaction?

Oct 12

Do the Frisks squish their Sans' faces?

What if the first kisses where started by the cutiebones’ lovers?

Do any of the Frans/Papara couples get into arguments

Is there a human that likes the Gaster AUs?

How did each version of Sans and Papyrus go about soulmates

When did the Sanses realize that they were in love with their Frisk?

Chara had to deal with their ex-lover. Papyrus' response??

Oct 13 - Most Papyri refer to themselves as "the Great Papyrus”…

Oct 22 - Frisk/Chara with whom they refer to as a "boy friend"?

Oct 27 - Have the Sanses/Swap Papyruses always liked bad jokes?

Oct 29

Do UT Chara/US Frisk have doubts that the Royal Family loved them?

Frans/Papara confessions where Frisk/Chara confess?

Chara responds to receiving a bouquet of flowers/chocolate

Other Headcanons

Oct 1

Monster Hunter Chara and Monster Papyrus?

Can I ask for FellGFrans? or FellGPap?

Persephone/hades-esque headcanons for both Frans and Papara

Would HT Frisk ever fall in love despite him keeping her captive?

Oct 2

Your pacifist horrortale...but swapped?

Reaper and Frisk as Hades and Persephone X3

Oct 3 - I was wondering if you’ve heard of an AU called Farmtale

Oct 4

A modern war AU where Sans is a spy and so is Frisk

Any HorrorFrans/Papara hcs you could share with us?

About that Lamia AU... what would be the next step to courting

Horrorswap Papara please

Oct 6

Is Gaster Sans' older brother in these aus or something else

Snippets from Feeling Bonely without you?

Wild West AU love triangle between Grillby, Chara and Papyrus.

Skeleton bachelors in the HarvestTale/FarmTale soul events

Oct 10 - Horrorswap Papara proposal

Oct 12 - In Outertale, Sans shows Frisk where shooting stars fly by

Oct 13 - What is Henri's relationship with Frisk?

Oct 20 - What's your ideas about Core! Frisk and Error?

Oct 21

Headcanons for semisolidmind’s Aslyumswap

Narrator-Chara AU headcanons?

“The Villain I Appear To Be,” does Frisk feel remorse for hurting Sans

Oct 22

Swapfell Papara/Frans cuddles?

If the Convergence AU was a Papara reverse harem?

Oct 23

More cuddles! Outertale Papara/Frans?

AUs where Chara and Frisk are "joined at the soul” explanation

Oct 28 - "Chara and Frisk are attached via soul", an alternate view…

Other types of posts

Oct 1

Written Horrortale, Gastertale, or Underlust Papara?

Punctuation

Is this Reapertale? Or maybe it’s Greektale…?

Can we take one of your prompts and write a fic of it too?

How to be you???

Written HCs on love confessions or marriage proposals?

A recount of my AUs:

Your thoughts of HCs for the Six-Bones AU?

Oct 2

Have you read  “Sooner Or Later You’re Gonna Be Mine”

How’d you do that?

Reading through your posts about Crypto!Frisk, and I wanna say…

Oct 3 - Is Frister a ship exclusive to Cryptozoologist au?

Oct 4 - Opinion about the Papyton (Papyrus x Mettaton) ship?

Oct 5 - Just imagine Flowey having the voice of Lil Gideon.

Oct 8 - Good news! My application’s been accepted

Oct 10

Would you ever be willing to write a Papyrus x Frisk fic?

Would it be okay if you could write about yandere Flowerfell?

Oct 12

I heard Flowerfell was based off of the writer and his partner

If you were to choose between Frans and Papara

Oct 21

Welcome back friend! how was your break?

HEY! It's been a while how are you doing?

Welcome back! Hope things have been well! :3

Are all AUs accepted here?

Oct 22

How do you feel with Monster Kid x Frisk?

Why do you like the idea of Chara being evil? (no hate)

Thoughts on Friskriel?

Rosalyn makes me think you don't like tsundere characters

Oct 23

When a tsundere character becomes abusive

I actually have the same feelings about Tsundere

‘I hate all tsunderes and everyone that likes the trope’, is not true.

Opinion of the AUs where Chara and Frisk are joined at the soul?

I don’t have many headcanons about the characters of Deltarune

Oct 24 - About the Author

Oct 26 - Status Update 10/26

Oct 27

Why you should share your ideas with the world

Do you know Ragnartale by @naomyart ?

Oct 28

I have a phobia of injections

Well, it’s over and done with, until next year at least.

All the stories I wrote in the past, I still have them

Oct 29 - I think one of the most insulting responses you can get

Oct 30

Hey there! Where can I read your stories?

Sometimes my mother will ask about how my writing’s going

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November's list is going to be of a similar size to this, so expect the next one being split into two as well!

#Master List #franstastic-ideas Master List #Haven't finished final inspection yet