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aer-arts · 2 months

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alright, here goes, this is Aer rambling about Eden from Despair Time for however long this ends up being (preemptive apology if this is long and incomprehensible) some preliminary context, Danganronpa Despair Time is a Danganronpa fan series over on YouTube, it’s really good so far (I find myself liking it more than the canon games) and I’m going to be mentioning spoilers

Anyway, Eden is easily one of my favorite characters in the cast, and part of that is because she’s such a refreshing take on the nice/optimistic character trope. The thing that sets Eden apart however is her views on being nice/optimistic. Most of the time, when a character falls into this category, them being nice is simply innate to their character. Blank acts nice because they are just a nice person. Additionally, I just don’t see a lot of explicitly optimistic characters, and I feel like when they are around it’s seen as weakness and/or being naive in series or by the fans. Eden however is unique in the simple fact that she states ‘Kindness is a choice and that I’m not being weak when I choose to be optimistic.’ (Paraphrasing of course)

and that little detail is so much more interesting to me, and arguably feels more human. It’s easy to be rude or mean to someone, especially if people have been the same to you. Being kind and respectful is a choice you consciously have to make. Throughout the series everyone has just been awful to Eden, pretty much every attempt she’s made to be friendly to others has gone wrong for reasons outside of her control. So it’s telling and impactful to me that she still makes the choice to be kind. She’s not doing it to gain anything, “relationships are not transactional”, instead she’s doing it because that’s how she wants to live. This creates the idea of ‘you aren’t a good person because you were born that way, you’re a good person because you choose to be that way’ which is a message I don’t see often and I feel could be a really interesting theme going forward. Also, it’s worth pointing out that Eden isn’t above blackmail, in context I do feel like it’s justified and Teruko needed that motivation because isolation is terrible for you, but still, kindness is a choice and being kind doesn’t make you immune to using underhanded tactics. Her optimism falls into a similar boat as well. Despair time doesn’t seem to be about hope like mainline, it’s more about trust and distrust. But Eden still someone embodies the idea of hope. From personal experience, it’s really easy to fall into a pessimistic mindset and it just sucks. Looking for the good in things not only helps improve my own mental health, but it makes it easier to just enjoy things. Even bad things can have silver linings or aspects that are well done. Being able to find these elements makes life worth living in my book. As mentioned, Eden has had an especially awful time this series and likely blames herself for the death of at least 2 people. (I’ve seen comments saying that she got over Arei’s death too fast and that makes her sus, my counter argument is that no, she didn’t, she’s just putting off her grief because she needs to focus if she doesn’t want to die, I’ll bet that after this trial she’ll allow herself to feel said grief. The trial system is not designed to let people process their emotions) Additionally, while her secret is arguably one of the most harmless ones, it’s effects on Eden are a bit hard to tell just cause we don’t know much about her life prior to the killing game, it still causes her worry about how she relates to others and opening that window of ‘depending on how people react I may be outcasted by everyone I trusted’. My point in this is that Eden is aware that the world sucks and that things don’t always go well, but she still chooses to be hopeful despite that. Her optimism is a strength, and it’s how she’s choosing to fight the high stress environment of the killing game

In this way, in my opinion at least, the cast, or at least Teruko, needs Eden. Not necessarily in a reliance way but in a counter balance way. I love the cast, but for the most part they all suck and kinda hate each other. Due to all of their flaws the cast feels so human but it also feels like a The Good Place scenario where the cast is specifically tailored to bring out the worse in one another. You cannot power of friendship your way out of this, I mean, you might but this cast can’t, there’s literally been 3 attempted (only 1 succeeded) murders and 1 accidental on. Which, side note, is actually really interesting and unique cause official stuff does play into the friendship route. In this mess where no one trusts each other, Eden provides a counter, she chooses to trust others because not trusting others is a worse idea. If the theme is trust vs distrust, and our protege falls heavily into the distrust category, Eden is needed to show the other side of the conflict. It’s for these reasons that I really don’t want her to be a twist villain

idk what’s gonna happen with Eden in future chapters, but I do think it would be a waste of her character. On one hand, that would undermine the idea of relationships not being transactions, and instead reinforce Teruko’s trust issues and kinda say ‘people are only kind to you because they want something/have something to gain’. On the other, it’s just an overdone trope. I mean, I get why it’s an interesting twist, but also we have David so if Eden is also a terrible person it won’t be as impactful. It’s just overall more unique and different if the nice character is genuinely just a nice character until the end because you don’t see that. Either the nice character dies early or they’re secretly evil, because being nice is a weakness. (I know this isn’t the case, trust me, but you know what I mean)

If Eden sticks around for a while and isn’t evil, I can see her going down 2 different routes. Either what Teruko said will happen and Eden will eventually break under all the pressure and grief. Which defiantly could be interesting and I’d be curious to see how it affects others. The other route is the one I prefer. And it’s that Eden survives until the end (or near end) and proves her mindset right. Let her overcome this awful situation through being kind and trusting others. Have her show that people can change and become better and how helping others is how you survive and thrive. The killing game feeds on distrust and hatred, so let her counter that.

I very much look forward to seeing where this series goes, and I could be completely wrong about all of this. I could probably write a whole paper about this topic and how all the characters feed into it, but I won’t. You’re all very much allowed to disagree with me, this is just my thoughts and interpretations. I just wanted to ramble some

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #Cringe posting on main #Sorry guys

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thatsadorbsyo · 2 years

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Alexander - 1

FROM THE JOURNAL OF ALEXANDER CORDULA.

22 Thunsheer

Simon--

Do you remember the night this past autumn, in which I roused you from a dead sleep at three hours past midnight and told you I'd suffered fitful dreams of a towering castle holding dominion over a field of wretched pines? And you -- who posited that all I was suffering were the consequences of putting too much mustard on my lamb at dinner -- still sat with me through the night, until the blue light of the virgin sun lit our chambers just so, enough for us to see each other's faces from our beds across the room?

I fear I'm in the dream again. I fear that I am not. I fear that I cannot wake, and fear even more that there is nothing from which to wake, and that I am stuck in this place for certain, in both body and mind. Would that it were so simple as too spicy a repast -- something that could only be true for the people of the north, but I digress -- or an abundance of nerves about my exam defense in the morning. Which, I suppose, is today. It could be happening right now, and I am missing it, and I know not if the archmages will accept involuntary astral projection as an excuse for being absent, which only adds another dry pit to the gravel in my stomach, small though it may be.

I digress again.

The evidence that I am dreaming is bountiful. I will list it to the best of my ability.

First, I will begin with the strangeness of my companions. In the way of dreams, wherein each individual is an amalgam of people in the real world, friends, acquaintances, public figures, fantasies, so too are each of my fellow travelers all figments of my fears and desires.

The first to greet me at the edge of the mists was a man of corvid countenance and temperament. I mean that literally. He is a raven, but also a man named Carroweigh, and I need not explain to you the obvious connection to Theodore, despite how you dismiss him as childish fantasy. He also brings to mind the men whose company my mother used to keep, back when we were still living in the woods to the south. Those men who were possessed of a certain affliction, the lunar curse. Feral, fearful, a bit inherently criminal. I had thought them to be a pinnacle of brutish manhood, not one to which I might aspire but one that I held in a high but inexplicable regard. This man, though, is anxious and excitable, avian rather than lupine. A strange creature, yes, in the way of dreams.

There are also three women who likewise stumbled out of the fog and who travel with us. One of them bears a striking resemblance to the gargoyles that guard the king's hall. She's a choleric and bilious sort, always sporting the signature grimace for which her kind are known. Her name, Calix, is a clear reference to my mother's trade in herbalism, being the false petals that surround a floral bud, which you'd know if you ever paid attention to your alchemy. Another woman, Bronah [sic], is so pitifully soft-spoken, like that girl you brought back to our dormitory some few weeks ago when you thought I was sleeping. I apologize for not telling you I was awake; I wished not to ruin your fun, and her simpering was mostly inoffensive. But the most curious thing about her is the mask she wears, which is so similar to those of the pantomimists we saw in the silken terrace. An odd coupling, perhaps, but both were memorable experiences, and the psyche so rarely shares its reasoning.

Strangest of them all is the one who calls herself Echo, who also believes herself to be asleep. She is, in fact, the only one who shares my assertion that we are trapped in a dream, but her definition of what a dream can be is so alien to me as to be incomprehensible. Perhaps she is supposed to be a reflection of me, or a husk of potential, or an anthropomorphic manifestation of the mere concept of dreams themselves. She bears a superficial resemblance to one of my mother's last patients, a gnomish girl who lost her arm in a black powder explosion. My mother spent a month crafting her an enchanted prosthesis from a specific breed of wood, but in the case of Echo, it seems to be all of her limbs that are segmented and artificial. I know not what this means, if anything. Sometimes a doll is just a doll.

Now that I have outlined the dreamlike nature of my companions, I will list the improbable sequence of events that led me here.

The five of us found ourselves in a shroud of mist, pulled from our own worlds and deposited in a queer fog leading to a woods full of howling dogs and hanged men, and from there to a village full of people who are no less strange than those who travel with me. Certain houses are marked for avoidance, and within them stir restless husks that I dare not describe. We met a witch selling dream pies (of all things!) for 1 gold apiece, a grieving mother cradling yet another doll to her breast, a nun of the Dawnfather -- they call him the Morning Lord here, which is but another of the dream's idiosyncrasies -- and the herd of orphaned girls she struggles to shepherd. All of them speak in hushed tones about the Baron of the castle. They say he is a vampyr, an unholy monster, a domineering brute, or they simply refuse to speak of him at all. And this, Simon, is the part that proves unequivocally that I am dreaming. Pay attention.

The so-called vampyr's castle is the exact one from my dreams, down to every last window and sprawling tower, and how it leans over the cliffside with such dreadful weight, like the face of a god pressing against the divine gate while its subjects shrink away from the intolerable misery of its gaze, for to be seen is to become a target. To be interesting or attractive is a liability. Worry not for me.

I have yet to see the castle at night, for the window in my bedroom is reinforced by obscuring wooden planks, but I would know those spidery spires climbing into the clouds as well as I know the lines in the palm of my own hand. Such a place cannot exist both in the way of dreams and in the material world, where its cool stones could be touched by my tender palm if only I left this house and started walking through the woods and up the cliff to where it waits for me. In the way of dreams, I know my path will lead there, whether I mean to go or not.

I should speak of the house from which I write to you, and the people who reside here. Let this be the last thing I write to-night, for I'm growing tired. I wonder how this works, to sleep within a dream. Do the dreaming ones dream themselves, with visions growing ever-inscrutable as they nest within one another like those queer wooden dolls from the north? I suppose I shall find out soon. Once again, I digress.

The house belongs to the late Burgomaster, a man whose missive we intercepted at the gates of the realm. In his letter, which I pilfered off of a courier's corpse -- more on that another time, perhaps -- he outlined the despair which has befallen this place. The dominion of the vampyr Strahd von Zarovich is as total as it is personal, for the vampyr has not only been hounding the people of this burg for 400 years, but his attention has also caused the Burgomaster's daughter, the coldly beautiful Ireena, to fall ill. I fear that after the death of his wife, this development caused the Burgomaster to succumb to some madness or deficiency of the heart, for his corpse bore no wounds that I could see.

Ireena appears, to me, the way I imagine my mother must have looked in her youth, but I do not believe her to be some sort of maternal analogy, as my mother was a font of warmth and restorative energy, whereas Ireena carries a chill about her, and an anemic void of energy. I don't mean to sound harsh; she is clearly ill, though the mechanism of her illness eludes me. Perhaps it is, as I spoke in analogy, a simple anemia from the Baron's feeding. It would be nice if the simple answer were the correct one. I have to wonder, though, what such an ordeal might entail. How does the vampyr feed? At her window? In her chambers? On the street, like a common brute? Is it fearful? Painful? Is the mind even capable of holding the memory, or does it evaporate upon waking like the sickening peculiarities of an incubus? I've been too polite to ask her.

I must also speak of the Burgomaster's son, though part of me blanches at the prospect of putting my ideas to paper. They are too personal, too mercurial. What I will say about Ismark, then, is that he is the only person in this dream who seems to be a real person wholly of his own, someone I could meet by stepping down to the inner sprawl of our city and taking a seat in any tavern, ordering an ale, and consenting to listen to an agreeable man speak to me in loud and superfluous affections for hours on end. He looks a bit like you, but superficially so. He looks the way I imagine you wish you could present yourself, if you spent more time at the training yard and less time at the library. No, I cannot speak of this further. I will not.

We are to take Ismark and his sister Ireena to another village to-morrow, as she understandably wishes to escape the vampyr's amorous attention. Do you see what I am saying right now? Can you read these words and tell me, with a sincere heart, that they sound like the words of a man who isn't dreaming? You cannot.

I will test my theory, then, and see if a dreamer dreams within the dream. The bed in this room looks like it was a fine one once, about a hundred years ago. And the stew I ate for dinner was so bland, perhaps I will not dream at all. Wouldn't that be nice?

[Smudged, scuffed out.] I wish y

Your sincere friend,

Alexander Cordula

#alexander cordula #alexander insp #curse of strahd #IC post

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miramilocamimira · 6 months

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I Am My Own Home

(Incomprehensible)

————

He could never understand. His mom and dad loved him, so did his primas, Tío- he didnt remember Bruno much beyond memories of a figure with rats- and his Tía. Even before he got his gift and especially so after Mirabel failed to get hers, Dolores kept avoiding him.

It’s literally only Dolores too. He’s played games with Mariano and Mirabel and Antonio. They greet him and talk just like everyone else! Except- they don’t always want him to change!

Well after he apologized for being mean to Mirabel first. Mariano said that only good kids could do so. How was Mirabel good when she was a sister-stealer? So he did and they were fun and it was nice.

Also, if supposedly she doesn’t like him, why would she protect him? Why? Why was it her who stopped what was apparently wrong- why was that the only time he meant enough to her for her to be near him?

It made no sense. However, he can see. He sees the differences between like with their mom and dad.

They were different with Dolores. At least with Antonio, they would still ask him how he was or check that he was okay. Same with himself. Even if he used to be around them more and it felt like they were going to leave him. They rarely did that with his sister.

Even before Abuela increased the workload.

He asked once.

“It’s just…. We… it’s hard to explain hijo. We made mistakes that we can’t take back.” Which again, he doesn’t fully understand. How does that relate to asking about her day? How does that relate to her avoiding me? He wants to ask but the words never come out.

———-

Tonito can speak to animals!!! Whooo!!!! The miracles are back, baby!

Camilo rides that high until Enrique, one of Isabella’s friends, asks to hangout just the two of them. He goes with. His job is to make people smile, after all.

He ends up punching him in the face. He won’t get scolded because then he’ll tell everyone what Enrique wanted. And what was that? He wanted Camilo to shift into Sofia and show him what she looks like.

And then, as he’s on his way back to the party- neverbealonewithEnriqueagain, mustwarnSofia- he crashes into someone.

“Ah! I’m sorry I wasn’t-.” And there she is.

Dolores.

———————-

“No! No ah, uhm I’m sorry.” Camilo stammers, like a moron. She stares at him. “So, how’s the… party?” He trails off as a strange sound appears and it happens again and again and when he looks, cracks are moving all over the roof and floors and walls and the candle. But then it stops, it disappears like nothing happened.

He looks over at Dolores and sees her face. It’s strange but it’s filled with relief and… regret? Their eyes lock.

”Don’t. Tell. Abuela.” She growls out. “I’ve got to go.” She goes back in the direction of the party… probably to find Mirabel.

If he were giftless too, would she love him than?

—————-

He’s getting really sad isn’t he. Well, Dolores only said he couldn’t tell Abuela, right?

So, he has to go to the most trustworthy person in all of Encanto!

”Hey Luisa!”

———————

Mirabel grasps at her chest, in what feels like a distant memory but she knows is not she watches her cousins interaction. She watches as she’s breaking.

She gasps as she recollects herself, looking around to make sure no one was watching. She smiles again and goes to dance with Antonio while Mariano and Isabela play their roles as fiancés for a bit.

She not-sees Camilo enter the party and guides Bruno to the kitchen for leftover with her tiles and panels. Nice uncle Bruno who patches her. When he gets there there’s a full container for him to take.

Mariano comes back and asks what she wants.

All she wants is for her family to be okay.

“Some punch would be nice.” Is all she says.

————-

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#encanto #antonio encanto #isabela encanto #dolores encanto #encanto fanfic #fanfiction encanto #dolores x mirabel #Camilo & Dolores #mariano guzman #mylo wrote #mylo writes #Mirabel is the miracle au #I am my own home #iamoh #cousin incest #madrigalcest

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hyenahunt · 2 years

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Bogie Time: The Jeering of the Jesters - 10

Writer: Akira

Season: Summer

Characters: Ibara, Hajime

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP) & Sophie + Skyress (ENG)

Translation: nazunyan427 & haranami

Ibara: It was as if they were looking me in the eyes and telling me that I was worthless — that there was no meaning to my life.

Ibara: …Hm. You’re stronger than I expected, Jimenyan.

Hajime: In the animal kingdom, you won’t survive if you’re not strong. And we’re animals too.

*sigh* ...Though I’m still not that strong compared to others, or rather, I lack stamina. Once I get fatigued, I’m barely able to move.

Ibara: I commend you for all your hard work. Starting with the next order, let’s both ensure that we take advantage of chances like these to rest.

Even the sturdiest of machines will break if it constantly operates at full power.

Hajime: Yes. Let's take rests as much as we can. And when I'm too exhausted to move, please lend me a hand!

In return, I’ll do what I can to help you out too, Ibanyan—just like this morning.

Ibara: Fufu. Considering your personality, I expected that you’d say, “I’m so sorry for being all high and mighty!” or something along those lines.

I suppose you’re so exhausted, it slipped your mind.

Hajime: Ahaha... But I don’t think it’s a good idea to put myself in such a lowly position. Everyone in Ra*bits is always getting onto me about that.

Besides, if I keep putting myself down, it’d be rude to all of the fans who support us and our juniors who see us as role models.

With that in mind, recently I’ve been seriously trying to stop apologizing even when I’ve done nothing wrong.

It’s still pretty hard though… Especially since Eden, one of ES’ Big 3, seems so far out of reach.

I can't help but put you all on a pedestal. And if something goes wrong, I immediately assume that it's my fault.

Ibara: ……

…In the past, I used to idolize people in the same way.

Hajime: Huh, really? But I thought all the members of Eden were Special Students?

Ibara: That’s how it is now, yes. However, it took blood, sweat and tears for me to reach that position. I had to claw my way up from the very bottom.

That’s precisely why I’d hate it if I lost everything I toiled for day by day due to an unexpected development like this.

I simply can’t bear the thought of reverting to the pitiful person I used to be.

Never again will I be mocked and scorned by the people who deem me insignificant.

Hajime: Oh… Is that the reason why you weren’t really on board to take part in a variety show, Ibanyan? Because you don’t want to be a laughing stock?

Ibara: Yes, and I wished to avoid Bogie Time in particular.

Hajime: And by that you mean...?

Ibara: Due to certain events that have occurred recently[1], the person who was managing programs such as Bogie Time has disappeared from this industry.

As a result, top secret documents concerning the aforementioned programs have been released.

Hajime: (whisper) I-Is it all right to say something like that when there are cameras around?

Ibara: (whisper) Yes, I’m choosing my words carefully. Additionally, I’ve already ensured that there are no cameras hidden within this room.

(whisper) After all, no one could have predicted that I’d rest here.

(whisper) The people who came to disturb me didn’t exhibit any suspicious behavior either.

Moving on. Within those documents, there was something like a diary. It belonged to a relative of mine, and within it were a few unpleasant details…

…About the truth behind Bogie Time, that is.

Hajime: (gulp) W-What did it say?

Ibara: I must refrain from disclosing the particulars, but suffice it to say that the doubts I’ve always been harboring were substantiated. Essentially, it was just incomprehensible nonsense, but…

That person looked down on idols who joined variety shows.

They asserted that such idols were no more than laughable clowns who went on stage for the sake of being ridiculed…

And, by being compared to them, the legitimacy and beauty of the truly brilliant idols could be further emphasized — something along those lines.

Essentially, the third-rate idols who made appearances on variety shows and the like were nothing more than fuel to make the “true idols” shine brighter.

By gathering up and ridiculing “fake idols” on Bogie Time, one could highlight how proper and beautiful the “true idols” were.

It appears that this show was essentially a sacrificial ritual for that purpose.

Hajime: Oh that… That is disturbing. I feel like Akehoshi-senpai and the others would explode if they heard such a thing.

Ibara: I’m sure they would. However, I wasn’t particularly perturbed.

I was born and raised as part of the dregs of society, so I’ve long since realized that equality does not exist amongst humans.

A select, privileged few shine at the peak whilst exploiting the masses below them.

That is one of the truths of this world we live in, and the person who mocked variety shows was quite frankly correct.

When I was at the bottom of the barrel, I used to sneer at the people who I’d glimpse on TV as well.

I found them disgraceful. They were so pitiful, desperate to crawl around and make themselves look idiotic in the hopes that the audience would at least laugh at them.

And I swore to myself that I would never be so pathetic.

Hajime: ......

Ibara: That’s why I detested variety shows. I didn’t want to fall so low as to be like the ones I used to mock.

However, I realized something upon reading the diary that person left behind.

They waxed poetic about their beloved “true idols”...

And even snidely wrote a few passages about the third-rate idols who became fodder for variety shows.

However, they didn’t write a single sentence, word nor letter about their family — the people who were connected to them by blood.

They didn’t spend a single page writing about their love for us, nor was there any derision or disparagement. There was nothing but emptiness.

To them, “I” might as well have never existed.

I was more insignificant than the ones they had mocked and looked down upon.

It was as if they were looking me in the eyes and telling me that I was worthless — that there was no meaning to my life.

And that made me so terribly angry… I was infuriated at myself for being that way.

Ahh… All too suddenly, I realized that I had always wanted to prove myself superior to the scumbags who abandoned me.

But there would be no point to anything I did if they weren’t even looking my way.

I dedicated half my life towards that purpose, fighting tooth and claw as I exerted myself day after day, and I was a fool for it. And so, I grew to despise absolutely everything.

✦✦✦✦✦

This is a reference to Double Face's first unit event, A Dark Night's Passing.

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

#ensemble stars #enstars #enstars translation #hajime shino #ibara saegusa #s: bogie time #era: !!#type: event

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

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Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats.

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

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happyandticklish · 3 years

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Make Me

Shizaya Week - Day Five (cigarettes)

Notes: Day 3 & 4? I don’t know her. Anyway, here’s this, because I actually had an idea for this one! One day I will make Shizuo the lee, I swear, but for now, I shall stick with self-indulgently wrecking Izaya’s shit once more.

“Hey!”

Shizuo glanced up in surprise as Izaya snatched the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. “What the hell?”

“These things will kill you, you know,” Izaya commented, his brows wrinkling in disgust. He waved it around idly as he spoke, casually walking away from the other. “You already have enough people in this town trying to kill you, I hardly think you need something else adding onto your sudden demise.”

“Are you forgetting all the times you attempted to do the same?” Shizuo dodged around passerby’s awkwardly, attempting to catch up with Izaya.

The two had met up at Simon’s that day on accident, mostly. Perhaps Shizuo had let the information slip that he would be there that afternoon, and maybe Izaya had decided that he was coincidentally in the mood for sushi as well. If anyone asked, it was happenstance, a random fluke of life. To call it a date would be ludicrous.

Izaya laughed, gracefully slipping through the crowd with an ease the other lacked. “You get hung up on the smallest things, Shizu-chan. Relax—I’m doing you a favor.”

“Give it back.”

“Make me.”

The words were a challenge, one Shizuo knew well. The urge to destroy Izaya hadn’t fled when feelings encroached on their territory, but instead had merely morphed into new and more intimate modes. There was a playful edge to their taunts now. The lines between fighting and flirting were flimsy, and Shizuo found himself crossing it unconsciously more and more as time went on. Not that he really minded. He was never one for change, but he had to admit, this was a nice one.

Shizuo narrowed his eyes, a teasing grin sliding into place on his features. Izaya’s heart leapt to his throat, as though his body already knew what was to come.

And then he was running.

Pushing past people on the street, Izaya leapt on top of benches, propelling himself forward with a chaotic ease that made others stare. Shizuo felt fire alight in his body once more, a familiar feeling. Only this time, instead of anger, the passion coursing through him was something else entirely—excitement.

“What’s wrong? Running away is the coward’s option you know—come out and face me like a man.”

Izaya threw a glance back only to find Shizuo much, much closer than he had expected. Shit. Giddy laughter built up in his throat, but he shoved it down, tossing back a breezy air as he replied, “Only fools play fair, my dear beast. I thought you would have learned that by now.”

Izaya turned into a corner at the last moment, hoping it would delay the other and give him a second to think. He clutched the cigarette tight to his chest; his fingers had crushed it a little in his haste, rendering it useless should Shizuo actually retrieve it. Not that it mattered. Both knew that wasn’t what this was about, anyway.

Seconds passed by slowly with no sign of the other man, and Izaya exhaled slowly. Maybe he had lost him after all? He turned around to shove the cigarette in his pocket, but before he could he felt a hand grab his wrists, pulling it above his head and pressing him against the wall. Izaya gasped, bracing his impact with his other hand.

“Gotcha,” Shizuo whispered quietly, casually plucking the cigarette from his hand and tossing it to the ground. He had him trapped, his torso bearing into Izaya’s back and his hand pinning him there. Escape would be difficult to be sure.

Izaya smiled, helplessly, closing his eyes and trying to conceal the nervous edge from his voice. “For now. And what happens when you’re in my position later on, hmm? What will you do when you are at the mercy of my will?”

Shizuo slipped his right hand under Izaya’s shirt, his fingers skimming across the trembling skin in unhurried exploration. “We’ll see if you last long enough for then, won’t we?”

Izaya choked on a stifled sound, biting his lip to try to conceal the other noises rising inside him. Nails, featherlight, traced incomprehensible patterns along his ribs that had him arching closer to the wall. “T-This is, e-entirely, ah, uncahalled for!”

“You stealing my shit is uncalled for.” Shizuo dragged his nails down, scratching lightly at his hips. Izaya yelped, his other hand reaching around to slap him away. Shizuo merely danced around the interference, targeting a new spot whenever he tried to protect it. “This, however, is simply the consequences of your own actions.”

“S-Stahap this, heh, y-ohou crehetin!” Izaya giggled, for it was giggling—that was unmistakable. He jumped and twitched underneath the other, his face flushing an embarrassing shade of pink. This was ridiculous. Of all the things Shizuo could choose to do to him, he never understood why tickling was his favorite. It was undignified, childish, and entirely beneath him.

And maybe, just a little, tiny bit, fun.

Not that he would let the other know that, of course.

“Is something the matter?” Shizuo teased, scribbling fingers under his arms to hear the accompanying shriek it produced. It was endlessly entertaining watching the composed man fall to pieces in his arm over something so simple. He never grew tired of it. “Does it tickle too much for the great Izaya Orihara? Is the famous info broker too ticklish to handle this?”

Izaya felt like his body would never be the same hue again at this rate. He wanted to hide his face in embarrassment, or at the very least cover his mouth to conceal the high-pitched laughter escaping him. Unfortunately, every time he tried the tickling would grow more intense and he would be forced to bring it back down again. It was an endless cycle, one he couldn’t help but participate in.

“Having some trouble getting your words out?” Izaya’s fingers had closed about Shizuo’s wrist, but they clung there uselessly, unable to prevent his hand from continuing its ticklish expedition along his torso. Currently, Shizuo clawed at his stomach, a spot that produced the most adorable sounds from the other, his body doubled over in an attempt at vain protection. “How about this—I’ll make it easy for you. Apologize and I’ll let you go. It’s that simple.”

Izaya scoffed incredulously through his laughter, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous proposition. “A-Ahahas ihihif Ihihihi wohohould e-ehehever, geh, ahahapologize to, aha s-shohort-fuhuhused lohohoser lihihike yohohou!”

“Loser, eh?”

Izaya squeaked as Shizuo latched suddenly onto his hips, his thumb pressing directly into the bone in a way that sent electricity shooting throughout his nervous system. He jerked back, his laughter exploding in frantic bursts as he squirmed desperately to get away.

“Ah! WAHAHAIT, SHIHIHIZUHO, NAHAHA!” He shoved uselessly at his hand, trying to dislodge it from the spot to failing efforts. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth splitting wide in an uncharacteristically genuine grin. “I-IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES, SHIHIHIT!”

“Say you’re sorry.” Shizuo was relentless, not letting up for a moment. The intense tickling on such a sensitive spot was quickly driving Izaya up the wall, and before he knew what he was doing, the words were falling from his lips.

“A-Ah, fihihine, fihihIHIHINE!” He jumped from foot to foot, his laughter dissolving into helpless cackling as he threw his head back. “I’m sorry! Ihihi’m sohoHOHOHORRY! A-Ahahaha, ShihiHIHIHIZUHUO!:

With a satisfied grin, Shizuo relented, releasing him. Izaya slumped back against the other, burying his face in his chest and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to support himself.

“Mean,” he mumbled, his words muffled from the position. “Shizu-chan is a mean and callous brute.”

“Is that so?” Shizuo replied fondly, brushing his hair back from his face. He felt Izaya soften against him, melting into the touch despite himself. He tilted the other’s chin up, leaning in to kiss him, but Izaya quickly turned his face away.

“Absolutely not,” he sniffed petulantly, releasing him to cross his arms stubbornly instead. “As if I would kiss an evil brute like you after what you did to me.”

“You say that like you don’t enjoy it,” Shizuo pointed out. Izaya blushed, refusing to meet his gaze. “Fine then. You’ve forced my hand.”

Izaya squawked, lurching backwards when Shizuo grabbed his hips again, sending him quickly back into a fit of giggles. “W-Wahahahait, ohohokay, ohOHOHOKAY!”

Shizuo stopped, pulling him in and stealing the remaining laughter from the other’s lips with a kiss. “You’re so cute like this, you know,” he murmured afterwards, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Izaya froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. After a moment, however, the smirk was back. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you. Don’t worry though—I’m sure one day you’ll grow into your looks.”

Suffice it to say, Izaya did not learn his lesson that day.

#tickle fic #shizayaweek2021 #shizaya #tickling #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #durarara!!#shizayaweek #fanfiction #drabble

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popopretty · 3 years

Text

Storm Bringer Spoilers (8)

I said I would translate this part earlier and the last week has been a busy one but it’s finally here. This is the part in CODE;03 (I guess) where Shirase finally got over his fear and risked his life to help Chuuya when Chuuya was fighting the skeleton that is supposed to be his “original” (I said so because we never know if it actually is the original or not). For a boy like Shirase with no special power, to throw himself into a battle like that for someone is a really beautiful thing to me. Their interactions here are so precious too. I couldn’t help smiling when I was translating it. I hope you enjoy it too and have a great weekend.

Feel free to retranslate it if you want. Just remember that I don’t speak either Japanese or English as my first language so there might be some mistakes or imperfectionness in this translation.

...

Hey, hey!

Hey, hey, come on! What the hell is that? A skeleton? Are you kidding me?

Shirase rubbed his own eyes. That was not an illusion. The surrounding scenery was distorted. The abnormality of the gravitational field left the surrounding gravel floating in the air.

In other words, the gravitational skill is being activated over there. In other words, Chuuya is over there.

Too frightened, Shirase almost dropped the clothes bag that he was holding with his two hands. He held it back in a fluster. That was a clothes bag, however inside it was not clothes. It was a bag of stolen items. On his way to find an escape route, he entered a research facility and went gold hunting. After all, neither the securities nor the researchers were out. On top of that, in the research facility, there were a lot of jewels used for laser transmitters, high-speed computing terminals and a lot of other things that could be worth a fortune if sold.

Shirase thought. These things will surely be burnt down to destroy the evidences anyway. If that’s the case, then wouldn’t it be of better help for people if we use it as a foundation to rebuild “The Sheep”, and let it be reborn as military money? I’m such a genius. He was thinking so as he got lost during his looting.

Then he wandered into this room.

Shirase looked around restlessly. There was no sign of anyone other than Chuuya and the skeleton. Apparently they were fighting each other. He could catch a glance of the pained expression on Chuuya’s face.

“Chuuya!” Reflexively, he ran forward, but stopped himself in panic.

What am I doing? If I go to such a place, I will die. There is a limit to how foolish you can be to get involved in the fight between two monsters. I’m not that stupid. I act wisely and firmly. That’s how I have survived until now.

Fighting is Chuuya’s job. Getting hurt is Chuuya’s job. Engraving our terror onto the enemies is also Chuuya’s job. And we handle everything else. That’s obvious. That guy has power. It’s only natural that he has to fulfil that responsibility.

But Chuuya today is weaker than ever.

The Chuuya who is fighting right now has wounds all over his body. He has never seen Chuuya like that. He looks just like a boy of his age.

No, not “just like”. Chuuya IS a boy of his age. Shirase suddenly realized that.

...

But still...

Still, it has nothing to do with me!

“Like I care! I am running away. Alone or not! You guys can do whatever you want about those war weapons or the truths of those special skills! I simply want to live a happy live!”

Shirase held his stuff carefully, turned his back and start walking away, as if he was carving each of his long steps into the ground.

***

The weight from the skeleton increased. In addition to the sound of their bones creaking against each other, there was another lower, heavier sound, probably the sound of the floor’s foundation being bent. If it were an ordinary human’s body, it would have become one with the floor long ago.

“Stop...”, Chuuya spoke with his lungs being crushed as if he was whispering. “You are me...”

There was a hint of hesitation shining in his eyes.

The chin of the skeleton made a sound. The eye sockets carrying no lights at all were staring down at Chuuya. There was no emotions there. There was nothing. A complete void.

From those eye sockets, from that nothingness, Chuuya heard something. Maybe it was just his imagination. But he couldn’t stop one word from popping up inside his brain. A meaningless word that seemed to be coming out from those white bones.

”You were supposed to be like this."

“You are... me.” Chuuya said, glaring at the skeleton that had drifted so far from humanity, unaware of what he himself was saying. “If that’s the case, who in the world am I...?”

The gravity got even stronger. The face of the skeleton which looked like death itself drew closer in front of his eyes. At that moment, someone shouted.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!!”

Someone just threw themselves at the skeleton and sent it flying to the side. The skeleton and that person rolled on the floor together. Chuuya opened his eyes wide. He knew the person.

“Shirase...?”

Shirase, who just rolled over, stood up and screamed in a squeaky, inarticulate voice. The skeleton that was using up all of its gravity to push down on Chuuya, was powerless to the attack from the side. Its elbow bone was dislocated from the impact. But that had little effects on its movements. It opened its jaw, trying to bite Shirase to death.

Shirase raised his clothes bag, which the skeleton bit right into. There were sounds of high-value jewels and electronic devices breaking inside, but the hardness of jewels had won against that of bones and iron. The lower jaw of the skeleton cracked vertically.

“Stupid Shirase! Run!”

“Aaaaaaaa!!”

Shirase shook his two arms with his eyes closed. His arms accidentally got caught in a transfusion tube connected to the skeleton’s spines. The tube came off and a black and blue chemical solution spilled out from inside. The skeleton suddenly tilted and stopped moving for a few seconds.

Chuuya noticed that. He screamed, “Shirase! Pull out those cables! All of them!”.

Shirase was still waving his arms around incomprehensibly but after a short pause, he came to understand the meaning of that instruction. He rolled around, covered in chemicals, and grabbed all the cords and tubes that were dragging around like tails. He pulled them in and pulled out everything at once.

The bundle of cables leading to the next room were pulled out of the skeleton’s spine.

The skeleton let out a scream. A body made out of bones only does not have a vocal organ. Its throat cannot vibrate to scream. That was the sound of gravity and the vanishing power of the skills that shook the bones and resonated like a musical instrument. It was the resonant sound of a scream that can take your soul away.

It sounded like a young boy crying in agony on the verge of death.

Eventually, the skeleton that had lost its instruction system and its source of energy supplies fell to the floor headfirst, breaking at its waist. Losing the gravity that was keeping its body together physically, it crumbled into pieces. Furthermore, the cracks from the attacks stared spreading through its body and it ended up breaking into countless fragments before vanishing.

And just like that, the skeleton disappeared. Like nothing was ever there from the beginning.

Chuuya was watching over it in shock, before he finally stood up.

“Shirase.”

Chuuya looked at Shirase while holding his side.

“What?”

Chuuya stared at Shirase as if he was trying to say something. He looked at Shirase who was covered in dirt, mud and the black and blue chemicals for a few seconds, then said.

“You look hella dirty now.”

“Shut up!”

Chuuya held out his hand. Shirase grabbed that hand and got up.

“Let’s go. We need to meet up with Adam first.”

“’kay.”

Shirase and Chuuya walked alongside each other. Shirase took a quick glance at Chuuya. He was covered in wounds, dirt and blood. There were countless bruises and his side was still bleeding.

“Hey Chuuya.”

Chuuya turned around. Shirase’s expression showed that there was something he had to say, something he had to apologize for.

Chuuya waited silently. Then Shirase said.

“You look hella dirty right now.”

Chuuya laughed with his eyes downcast, “Shut up!”.

....

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #storm bringer #spoilers #bsd spoilers #shirase #nakahara chuuya

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years

Note

Ive come to possibly apologize

a coup days ago I came to the conclusion that I ought to drink 5 cups of coffee and pull an all nighter as a dare as such I was very sleep deprived and high on caffeine and i think I went on tumblr and sent some people some anons about stuff that seemed like a really good completely normal and comprehensible idea I wouldnt have sent any anon hate if that’s what your thinking but stuff like some crazed rant about why cpr is necromancy or something

but I was also running on the high of having too much caffeine in my system and being sleep deprived so I was pretty out of it and its kinda hazy

so yeah if I sent you a slightly incomprehensible ask during that period Im really sorry about that

if not just ignore this

(1) Don’t apologise. Make sure your sleeping schedule is back to normal and healthy. Active sleep deprivation is just another form of self-harm. Don’t do that.

(2) Clarification: I will write everything upon request. That’s not a question of if but a question of when. If there’s something in my inbox, it will be uploaded to this blog. You will get your request (that’s the save-the-villainous-cat promise, I guess???).

It just depends on the request. Mostly, I will try to write original ideas first and then the continuations for snippets but that can vary from time to time.

Plus, of course the number of requests in total is also of significance, so I’m sorry if you have to wait a bit.

(3) Last words for you, anon: CPR is not necromancy. You use it only to get your heart and lungs back to work — your brain is still alive but needs oxygen which can only be provided when your heart and lungs are back up.

But I like the idea. Could be used as a modern necromancy story. Like an old ancient being is living in our century and feeds on necromancy. And because it’s pretty difficult to bring back the dead in broad daylight nowadays without getting in trouble with the law, they simply become a doctor and start saving people there. And everyone loves them but then their rival finds out and it’s a great enemies to lovers saga.

Hm. I gotta think about that.

#no writing #blog stuff

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

Summary: After a few rainy days stuck inside during spring break, the whole Cullen clan is feeling restless and resort to pranking to pass the time.

Featuring: Emmett Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, and Mia Cullen

-- It had rained for fifteen days straight in Forks, a parade of stubborn drizzles followed by steady downpours and carrying over into the week-long spring break. Mia didn't usually mind the rain, quite used to it giving her something to watch out the window when she didn't care for a teacher's lesson or the drops of it falling against her window and lulling her to sleep at night.

She usually enjoyed the impromptu breaks her family took from school, too, more than happy to roam the woods or sit out in the sun with a book while Forks High School held the impression that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had pulled the kids out of school for some outdoor activity. But being stuck inside while the school was closed for an endlessly rainy break had Mia feeling a little restless.

It had taken her only a day to finish her pending assignments, and just one more to completely rearrange her bedroom. She had actually grown tired of staring at things, her eyes fatigued by and bored with her laptop screen, books, and the view out her window. And she had grown tired of her siblings too, bored of their usual indoor pursuits and routines.

By day three, Mia had strayed to playing innocent pranks to pass the time—moving her siblings' things when they left the room and making failed attempts to sneak up on all of them, but most specifically Emmett, who'd first made a game of scaring her, wrapping the whole family up in it so that Mia could hardly go an hour without being snuck up on.

Because of that, her pride and joy in regards to the pranks had been the alterations she made to Emmett's jeep, a prank she entered into knowing it would likely be an act of delayed gratification, not like the hiding of frequently needed items or the botched pop up scares. Emmett had no need to take a vehicle out any time soon. If he was going anywhere, he was more likely to run, and once school was back in session, they would be more likely to take Edward's car. Mia knew she could be waiting weeks for any sort of acknowledgement.

She was willing to wait though, the mere recollection of all she had done sufficient enough to get her through Emmett continuing to scare her over and over. She’d done a few things to his jeep, easy stuff like rearranging the mirrors and seats, and adjusting the radio volume to its maximum, and changing the station to the local one that favored heavy metal. But all of that was mostly a distraction because Mia was far more proud of the collection of nuts and bolts in tin cans duct-taped under his seats and inside the spare tire set on the back to the jeep. The whole vehicle would be rattling if he hit a bump or tapped the break, two things she assumed Emmett would encounter before even making it out of the driveway.

Mia wasn’t usually one for such targeted and premeditated pranks, but Emmett had made a sport of scaring Mia over their week of near-confinement, and she felt he deserved something beyond the standard prank. So when the opportunity arose, with her siblings out for a hunt, her father at the hospital, and her mother occupied with some project in her studio, Mia took her opportunity.

She knew Emmett would discover the rattle was no more than a prank after he asked Rose to take a look at it, but she still giggled to herself imagining what would happen when he finally brought himself to ask for Rose’s help and then she laughed once again imagining the look on Rose’s face as she held up one of the offending cans. Emmett was clueless when it came to cars. Completely clueless.

But she had only had to wait a few days because Rose had decided she wanted to go on a date, and Emmett insisted on driving, insisted on getting dressed up, and settling himself down on the couch beside Mia while he waited for Rose to finish getting ready.

Had Mia realized they would be taking Emmett's vehicle, she wouldn't have stayed in such a vulnerable position, lounging there on the couch. She would have put some more distance between herself and her siblings, and a locked door, perhaps. She would have prepared herself a bit better to feign ignorance.

But as she had been caught off guard, she hadn't been prepared to fight when Rose stomped back through the front door with Emmett following in her wake. Rose had barely spared her a glance, the can rattling in her hand as she continued straight up the stairs.

And though it all clicked very suddenly that she was about to be told on, Mia couldn't scramble fast enough because it seemed to happen too quickly that Emmett had plucked her off the couch and was placing her down in Carlisle's office, less than two steps away from a seething Rose.

To Rose's dismay, there hadn't been any true repercussions for the prank aside from Carlisle's request that Mia issue a genuine apology and an acknowledgment that cars were not something to be messed with. Mia had laid low for a few days anyhow, avoiding Emmett and Rose, and even her father, to the best of her ability, which was why Mia had settled in for a day of self-care, feeling she’d earned an afternoon of soothing teas and good music and moisturizing skincare and nail painting after all of the effort put into pranking and the hassle of being found out.

With the rain and the music and her own voice filling her ears, Mia didn’t hear Emmett push her door open or tread across her bedroom floor. Had he been a human of his proportions, he’d not be able to sneak up on her, but as it was, Emmett was stealthy whenever he wished to be, able to take unassuming and delicate steps despite his size.

“Boo.”

The word was barely above a whisper and Mia stumbled and let out a scream, startled just as much by the hushed remark as she was by the quick rush of breath near her ear and the hands that grasped her before she fell.

“EMMETT!” she shouted, pushing at his hold and groaning once he settled her back on her feet.

He reached over to turn down the music, laughing. “You’re too easy, kid.”

“And you’re a stupid jerk,” Mia ground out, shoving against his solid chest with all her might only for him to stand there unaffected, chest puffed out and smiling down at her. “You scared me!”

“Same here,” he said, gesturing towards the green clay mask on her face. “Got a bit of a Wicked Witch of the West thing going on there.”

Mia’s rolled her eyes. “Actually, I was channeling my idiot older brother.”

“Ah, so Yoda, then?” Emmett smirked. “What an honor.”

“Hulk,” she offered. “You know, the incomprehensible behemoth with no self-control?”

Mia stepped away from him, heading towards the bathroom to rinse her face and Emmett appeared before her once again, another scream coming from her lips.

“Stop doing that!”

“I’m sure you’ve done something to earn it,” he answered, “just haven’t figured out what yet.”

“I’ve been up here all day, Em.”

“Yeah, and unfortunately your voice carries. Sounds like you’re drowning cats up here.” Emmett turned to glance in the open bathroom door and Mia smacked him on the arm.

“I’m going to tell Dad if—”

“Speaking of Carlisle, he wants to see you.”

“Why?”

Emmett shrugged. “I’m just the messenger, but you might want to clean that off and drop the Oscar the Grouch act before you go down there.”

Mia clenched her fist. If it would have done anything, she might’ve hit him, wiping that smug little grin off his face entirely, but she knew it wouldn’t, so she took a deep breath instead, releasing her fist and smiling instead.

“You mind giving me a minute, then?”

“Wait for wicked sister grouch, the Yoda Hulk brother will,” Emmett answered.

Mia took another deep breath, waiting a moment to see if he was serious, rolling her eyes as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

“I don’t need you to wait. I can remember how to get myself downstairs,” she said, but Emmett didn’t budge so she moved to the sink.

She took her time with rinsing and moisturizing and didn’t utter a word to Emmett as she tried to step past him, but his hand caught her chin, though his palm and fingers spanned the whole bottom half of her face really, and the whole maneuver stopped her from moving entirely with little effort on Emmett’s part.

“So soft now, your skin is.”

“Emmeh, lemme go!” Mia shouted, her words muffled as her cheeks remained squished between his fingers. “Yur nod fummy.”

Emmett laughed, dropping his hold and holding a guiding hand out in front of them. “Fine, grouch. Go ahead, then.”

“I will.” Mia massaged her jaw as she took the stairs nearly two at a time. “And I’m going to tell Dad you’re being an assh—”

Mia’s mouth closed as she took a step off the stairs, rounding the corner, nearly knocking into her father.

Carlisle caught her arm as she stumbled and Mia briefly checked his face for any sign he intended to reprimand her for the word choice, but her eyes were instead pulled to the mess of tin cans on the table.

"What's…"

"All of this?" Carlisle asked as Mia wormed her way out of his hold. "I was hoping you might be able to tell us."

Her eyes flicked back and forth between the cans, her father, and her brother, who had taken a seat at the counter.

"I've been up in my room all day. I don't even know what 'this' is."

Emmett put his feet up on the stool beside him. "You're busted, kid. Might as well give up the act."

"I'm not busted because I didn't do anything.”

"Well, the fourteen tin cans found in the cars would say otherwise," Carlisle answered. "I thought we were in agreement that there would be no more pranks played, especially where the cars are involved?"

Mia’s mouth fell open a bit before she gulped. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up the can that certainly had been Mia's doing, a neat 'With love, Mia,' painted out on the side of the can with nail polish.

"You did this?"

Mia couldn't find the words, but she finally nodded. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up another tin can, a nearly identical message written out on the side with the very same shade of pink and Mia stepped forward, pulling the can from his grasp to study it closer.

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered, "Emmett must've…he must be—"

"I must be what?"

Mia jumped at her brother's closeness and she smacked his shoulder as a reflex. "Stop doing that!” she said before turning back to Carlisle. “Dad, tell him to stop scaring me."

Carlisle sighed. "Amelia, I thought we were on the same page after our discussion. You agreed to stop with the pranks, but since our discussion doesn’t seem to have been enough—"

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered. "I—"

"What about this?"

Mia let out a rushed exhale, a nervous laugh coming at the end of it. She had forgotten about the photo she'd replaced days ago, switching out one of her father and her as a baby to that of her father holding a potato wrapped in cream-colored blankets.

"I did that ages ago. It was before we talked."

"Aw, come on, Mia. You don't think we're that stupid, do you?" Emmett asked.

Mia turned from her father to her brother. "I think you are."

She shrieked as Emmett twirled her around, wrapping one arm across her chest as he held her against his front, using his free hand to clamp down over her mouth.

"Alright, I think we've heard enough of her lip, Carlisle. It's time for sentencing. Fearless leader, do your worst."

Mia knew her father would never do his worst. She wasn’t even aware of what Carlisle Cullen’s worst entailed, having never seen him more than slightly aggrieved, but she thrashed against her brother’s hold anyhow, prying at his hands until he caught her arms, and then she kicked at his shins, but Emmett easily sidestepped her attempts.

Mia yelled her brother’s name, the sound muffled into his palm before she bit down. It didn’t hurt him, more of a shock that she’d even done it, than anything. She'd gone through a short-lived biting phase around three or four, but they’d been incident free since then.

Emmett smirked. “Are you sure you want to challenge me to a biting war, kid?”

Carlisle cleared his throat. “I think a more appropriate punishment would be for Amelia to clean and detail the cars.”

She groaned, her efforts to get out of Emmett’s hold renewed, if only because she wanted to voice her protest.

“And dust every picture frame in the house,” Carlisle continued as Emmett finally uncovered her mouth.

“But that’s going to take forever and I—”

“I suspect it will keep you busy for the remainder of your break and provide you with plenty of time to think about your behavior,” Carlisle said. “And you’re grounded...three weeks.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Mia groaned, “Dad, I didn’t even do this! I—”

Mia felt Emmett shaking with silent laughter before she noticed the mischievous glint in her father’s eye, the slightest of smiles coming to his face.

“You actually are joking, aren’t you?”

Carlisle shrugged. “Emmett and I thought you could benefit from a little dose of your own medicine, Mia.”

Mia sighed. “So I don’t have to do any of what you said, then?”

Emmett lifted her over his shoulder, moving steadily towards the door.. “You’re still helping me wash the jeep, kid. Need to teach you the importance of not messing with my things.”

“But it’s pouring out—Dad! Help!”

Carlisle stepped forward, beating them to the door.

“Thank yo—” Mia started.

He pulled his daughter’s rain jacket off the hook, handing it to Emmett. “We wouldn’t want your sister getting sick,” he said. “And let me get that for you.”

Carlisle opened the door, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face as Emmett carried her through.

“Have fun, sweetheart.”

Twilight Masterlist

#twilight #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #mia cullen #cullen daughter #cullen!daughter #cullen sister #cullen!sister

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taardisblue · 3 years

Note

hii i dont think we´ve ever really talked before but i just wanted to say ive been really enjoying your tags on thoschei posts in the last couple of days!

like this:

#please tell me someone has written a fic focused on missy receiving that and looking for 12#all the way to her deciding to involve Clara#bc ok#I don’t believe she *needed* Clara to find him not really#earth; noise but no threat; a party; she could have figured it out#but that makes it even more interesting bc that means she *chose* to involve Clara#part of it is probably just that she likes her djdjjd#but it’s interesting bc it’s like the master is always torn#bc they want to be the centre of the doctor’s attention with no distractions but the companions....they’re so /useful/ aren’t they#such a lovely stick with which they can push the doctor’s buttons#easy to threaten easy to kill#and back then they didn’t feel threatened by them; bc in the end the master remained the doctor’s only equal —or so they thought#but *now*?? now the master has found out he’s as temporary to the doctor as every single pet she’s ever had? oh ho ho

and this:

#honestly my KINGDOM for an ep that leads a companion to realizing (AND POINTING OUT!!!) how similar they are#I would have Loved for it to be Ryan but I’d love to see Yaz handling that too#they have this fundamental difference in how they perceive the world#but they also grew up together#the two kids who were smarter than everyone else#who skipped classes together and dared each other to do stupid shit and even NOW#THOUSANDS of years and countless civilizations and deaths and lives and who knows what else later#.....it still shows#they still act the same they still react in the same ways they are still in /sync/#which is why a doctor master team up WOULD kill me in every possible way#can you imagine?? the two of them bouncing theories and plans and strategies off of each other#rapid fire and breathless and /grinning/ and lowkey insulting each other but in a teasing *oh so fond* way#they wouldn’t even realize they were doing it#neither of them

this:

#like worth mentioning that as they flirt and trade quips and rapid fire ideas and grins#Bill is RIGHT THERE#after going through the worst year of her life#and slowly coming to the realization that she’s going to have to die to fix this#dw#but these two are just......so absorbed with each other#with the sheer /glee/ of having someone match them match their speed match their intellect#not that I expected missy to be particularly considerate but /12/????#he’s so /caught/ in the simple *fun* of having someone match him and challenge him that he forgets. just for a second.#hc that I’m treating as canon: that’s what it was like back in school for them#it’s what they were like back at the academy#trading insanely fast ideas and concepts in half sentences that were incomprehensible to everyone but them#riding the high of having someone just /understand/ whatever it is you’re getting at without needing long dull explanations

like sorry to quote your own words back to you but im just really enjoying all your thoschei thoughts thanks for them <3

Hi!! First off, apologies for the delayed response, I queued all these posts in a sudden thoschei haze before going off on holiday somewhere with very limited internet access lol, but this was lovely to come back to!! As fun as rambling in Tumblr tags can be, imo the real fun of meta comes from discussing it with people so this is!!! Very exciting!!!!

I’m going to be rambling a bit more below about the different things you bolded bc I will literally take any opportunity to type about these two for hours kjdfhgfd

using a read more bc this got uh. long. whoops!

The Master vs the Doctor’s companions

I could talk for DAYS about this bc it is fascinating to me. Pre TTC, you’ve got the Master’s arrogance coming out in full force when it comes to the companions (very time lord of him btw lol). They’re not threats, not really, even if the Doctor gets attached, bc they are fundamentally temporary.

(imo, that’s part of the reason why they’re so very hateful towards Jack, bc Jack /is/ immortal, and potentially /could/ be a threat; luckily for them, the doctor is always an ass where jack harkness is concerned kjdfghfk)

but yes, since the companions could never be on the Doctor’s level, they’re not a proper threat (it’s the ‘you’re the puppy’ thing Missy says to Clara). but! that does not mean they can’t be useful and/or even fun. The Doctor’s always out there trying to defend/save humans, sure, but with the companions, they’re /attached/, which means it’s even more fun to threaten them, bc it makes it easier to get a reaction out of the Doctor. But I also think sometimes the Master ends up kinda liking the companion? Missy and Clara is number one example in my mind and g o d, I’m not by any means a s8/9 expert but Missy and Clara are so FUN. I could do paragraphs, but instead I will just link my favorite fic involving them (it also involves 12, and bill, in the final chapter, AND it’s in my humble opinion arguably the funniest dw fic on ao3)

But! This is all pre-TTC! Back when the Master could rely on the Doctor being their equal, and, vice versa, on their being the Doctor’s (only) equal; back when the Master still knew that no matter what happened, in the end, it’d be them and the doctor together, just like they’d started.

Except that now the Doctor’s had this whoooole entire life (lives!!!!) before they met the Master. And they will keep having more of those, after the Master. The Master is now /temporary/. The Master is now a companion like any other.

In short: ouch

(As an aside, this is my read on what I believe is the Master’s thought process; imo, in the Doctor’s mind, the Master is still very much apart, regardless of whether you subscribe to that ‘the master is the kid who pushed bby!doctor off that cliff’ theory, but that’s a different essay altogether)

I think it’s fairly interesting, if slightly frustrating when writing fic lol, that we don’t really see the Master interact with the fam, or at least not out of disguise. As O, he’s his usual meddling self; trying to pique Graham’s curiosity about the doctor, messing with Yaz a little… but beyond that, he doesn’t really acknowledge them much. Could be linked to the plot, sure, but to me it also makes sense that he’d be a lot less personal with the companions than, say, Missy was. He v much encourages their being turned into Cybermen (which…. after bill?? dude. like I know it’s on purpose, (and Dhawan!Master vs the vault and Missy’s arc is its own rant) but dude.), but it’s, once more, mostly about upsetting the Doctor, more than about the companions specifically (then again, in TTC, he’s fairly one-track bc he’s revealing everything). All that to say, this is reason n°3453 why I’d like him to make a comeback next series or in the specials; I’m so curious to know whether he’d try to mess with Yaz more specifically, or if his new found ''''companion'''' status would make him Not Want To Do That

The similarities between the Doctor and the Master

This is one of the many, many things that make me go absolutely feral about them. Beyond the Master’s newfound belief that the Doctor is now some kind of god or w/e, the fact remains that these two??? They are so similar that it HURTS.

They of course have this fundamental difference in how they see the world, and have had it for a while (although, despite my abysmal knowledge of classic who, I do attribute this difference at least partly, to the Doctor’s travels with Ian and Barbara, and then generally to the influence their companions have had on them), /but/…. There’s still a reason why they became so close at the Academy, why they clicked together so well, and why they’re still now, thousands of years later, orbiting each other with absolutely no way to pull back. At their core, these two are still the two smart as hell kids who’d trade ideas and thoughts and concepts at a thousand miles a minute, and just be so gleeful that they have someone who can match them, match their speed, and understand exactly what they’re getting at. It also means they were probably insufferable, but let’s be real, they still are, and that’s why we love them.

It’s something we get a pretty good look at in s10, notably in the scene in the monks ep where Missy has 12 guess how the monks work, and it’s one of the many reasons why I adore that series. Bc despite all their history, they still fall back into that rhythm in seconds, and they don’t even notice. A team up with 13 and Dhawan!master would be even more captivating imo, bc they are so hostile. It’d have to be forced by exterior circumstances (and I don’t think even that would exclude 13 decking him at some point or other), but the fact is…. They are Still similar, despite both their beliefs that they’re not, and seeing them fall back into that synchronicity??? Into that back and forth??? My KINGDOM for this, chibs, please.

The funniest part is that they’d BOTH deny it. It’s not like Missy trying to prove that they’re not so different; the Master now also believes they’re no longer alike, but an outside eye like a companion? Like Yaz (aka a companion who has gone from hero worship of the Doctor to having had months to obsess over everything the Doctor has ever done (including possibly the darker things 👀) + being (I think??) a lot more wary of the Doctor (one day you will [leave again]); Yaz would see it, and she’d call it out and for all the Doctor would deny it…. She’d see it too.

This is WAY longer than I expected and I hope it makes some kind of sense (I am not used to having to structure meta thoughts outside of discord messages and Tumblr tags so apologies if this is helplessly rambly jdhgf), but!! It was very fun!! Thank you for the ask and the opportunity!!

#Ask #you-have-to-use-your-imagination #thoschei #dw #meta #ty for the ask!!!#rambling about fictional millennia old aliens is one of my top 5 hobbies so this was delightful #I’ve been trying to wrangle most of these thoughts into a fic since about…January but it is much easier to express them like this lol #additional thoughts about the similarities point:#I am at any point dedicating about 15% of my brain power to thinking about that video #where Sacha Dhawan has to guess which lines are the doctor’s or the master’s #and he gets it /wrong/ bc once you move past the obviously evil stuff they’re basically both cocky assholes dhjfg #second thought:#if we can’t have a team up I will take a body swap #bc A I need to see Jodie play a body swap ep with a somewhat evil character more than I need to breathe #and B bc they’d swap and /not get caught/ until they chose to #they could literally be body swapped and have no one notice for like. An entire ep or near enough I think #(if they so chose of course and weren’t taken by surprise)#and THAT makes me lose my entire mind #final thought bc i am running out of tags i think:#the sheer /tragedy/ of the master being convinced that TTC means they are no longer the same #when imo it makes them more similar than ever AND means #that the doctor could /really/ use her best friend for support? unparalleled

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gay-otlc · 3 years

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Keepers Of The Chaos (Chapter 1)

The first chapter of the Tumblr KOTLC Fandom Fandom story is here!

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing

Word count: 1204

Read on AO3

Linh leans into the microphone. "Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," she says.

"Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," adds Tam. He tugs at his silver tipped bangs. "I'm Tam, and my sister's Linh, and today, we're going to be talking about why you should watch KOTC. Now, if you're one of our five regular listeners, you've probably already seen it, but feel free to share this with a friend or relative to convince them to watch this show!"

Smiling, Linh takes the microphone back and continues. "In this show, there's a group of very, very chaotic friends who all go to Tumblr High School together. As soon as they return after New Year's, their principal informs the school of a writing competition taking place between high schools, with other opportunities for extras like drawing or animation. Every member of the winning team gets a free scholarship to an arts school the characters all want to go to, but don't like their chances of getting in normally or paying, so they sign up. Through the nine episode season, taking place over the month of January, the characters in the writing competition start on the premise, get sidetracked, come up with some truly horrifying ideas, write some gay short stories, and, as the title promises, act very chaotic."

"Now, the writing prompt that the group has to build on is kind of... fuckin' weird," Tam says, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "They have to write about a girl named Sophia, who's twelve years old and can read minds, who meets a teal- yes, teal- eyed boy named Finn, who tells her she's an elf. Then, she travels to the elf world, where she struggles a bit at elf school, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. And yes, we're aware that the names are shitty but the characters in the show really get into mocking them, so that's an upside."

Linh laughs a little at the names. "There are a lot of rebels, you might have noticed," she adds.

Tam nods. "Yeah, I noticed. There are a lot of rebels because their government sucks. There's a council of twelve really old elves, and only two of them are alright, then one of those two dies, and then one of the previously bad ones turns good."

"The characters in the show were given a very detailed list of worldbuilding, plot, and character details. We don't have to read the whole thing, though- they just consult it when it's relevant."

"But writing about Sophia and the Dark Duck isn't the only plot of KOTC, thankfully. We also get to see the competitors writing Dark Duck interact with one another and have fun. It makes connections to real life events- mainly through Bernie Sanders memes, but whatever. Bernie Sanders memes are funny."

"Bernie Sanders memes are funny," says Linh, nodding seriously. "And yes. There are some romantic ships in there- like Amelia and Akki, or Shai/Lynn/Tater, but there are also close friendships, and you get to see the group bond over their shared desire to get the scholarship, and their collective love of chaos, so the more platonic aspect is definitely given screen time as well."

"Which, given how often shows center only on romance, is really great," Tam agrees.

"The show also does really incredibly with including diverse characters. Pretty much none of them are both straight and cis, and most of them are neither."

Tam grins. "Right, and no one really makes a big deal about it. They mention it when relevant, of course, and some have homophobic parents, but they have depth beyond getting the authors ally cookies or whatever. Everyone uses correct pronouns, or apologizes when they screw up, and everyone's pronouns are validated no matter how 'weird' or 'confusing' it might be."

"The show also has a lot of good religious diversity, with quite a few Jewish characters, who make sure it's very clear that they're Jewish."

"Yeah, one of the characters- Shai- starts a movement to turn all the Sophia and the Dark Duck characters Jewish as well."

"It doesn't succeed, but good job to aer for trying," Linh says, sighing sadly.

They fall silent for a little while as Tam checks their episode outline, scribbled in Linh's rather illegible handwriting. "Linh, what the fuck does this say?"

Brow furrowing, Linh asks "You can't read my handwriting?"

"No, I can't!"

She sighs. "It very clearly says 'great characters- discuss,'" she huffs.

"Yeah, no one can read your handwriting. Also, we should probably cut this out when we edit."

Linh nods. "Probably, yeah."

Tam leans in closer to the microphone and starts speaking into it again. "The competition has fifty something participants- fifty two, was it?" He looks to Linh for confirmation, who nods again. "Fifty two. But somehow, all of the characters have their own distinct personalities and stories and interests, and they're shown as complex human beings."

"Yeah, that's always been my favorite part of the show. The characters are just so interesting. Canon manages to focus on them a lot more than I would have thought possible, but it still doesn't give us all the details- since it has to balance so many people, it can't spend a long time focusing on just one- so there's a lot of room for speculation in the fandom. Some get noticeably more or less focus than others. Like, Lynn and her fiancees get kind of a lot, while I wish some of my favorite characters like Specs or Charlene got a bit more screen time. But everyone gets some, no one gets too many, and the fandom is there to fill in the gaps!"

"Yeah, and the fandom is fantastic," says Tam. "There aren't a whole lot of us, which we wish would change because the show is really great, but we're a good fandom to be in. There's not usually a lot of discourse, and there are so many talented people making content. lordofthesnuggles's theories for season two are always so detailed and logical that I lowkey suspect he writes for the show, and thehunkiestofhunkyhair makes fantastic fanart."

Snapping her fingers, Linh exclaims. "Oh, and les-biana has the best fanfictions."

Tam coughs, and mutters "Yeah, you like Biana's fanfictions."

"Oh, like you're any different with Keefe," Linh huffs.

There aren't any visuals, so no listeners of the podcast can prove Tam was blushing. "Anyway, the first- and currently only- season starts with everyone signing up for the competition, no idea what they're in for, and ended with half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement. It's entertaining as fuck, and very well written, so do go check it, recommend it to your friends, let Keepers of the Chaos take over the world, whatever you like."

"Thanks for listening to the Twins of the Chaos podcast, and have an amazing day!" Linh finishes, and she stops recording.

#shai types things #tumblr kotlc fandom fandom #cursing tw #shai's writing

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shijas · 3 years

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touched-starved megumi slowly being acclimatised to touch really lives rent free in my head.

like, his childhood was pretty all over the place, and he clearly spent middle school getting into fights and straight up brooding, so it’s make sense for touch in megumi’s mind to be associated with strength and violence and pain and vulnerability, the latter two things would especially be hard for megumi to live with i think???? i don’t really know how to explain??? but like we see that uncontrolled vulinerabilty, and leaving yourself vulnerable is like putting yourself on a wanted list for shamans. and so touch, in megumi’s eyes, should only occur with a few specific purposes and those purposes usually weren’t the most pleasant experiences in his mind. i assume people only touched him for: training/sparring, which is literally allocated time when someone can just straight up, inflict harm; someone deciding to fight him out of jealousy or revenge or fear or some sort of negative emotion; and in the worst case scenario people are touching him to heal him because in some capacity he’s weak, he was not strong enough to do whatever he needed to do without injury. i think healing touches, when the touch has to be gentle because fundamentally megumi is already vulunerable and already hurting would sting the most, like emotionally and physically because sometimes touch, even gentle touch, do he hurting tho... (this got long, but for how nobara/yuji break this pattern keep reading!)

and then nobara and yuji arrive and it’s like a hurricane of positive touching. yuji is affectionate!! physical touch is definitely a part of his love languages and so yuji just enjoys giving hugs!! yuji likes high fives!! and fist bumps!! and holding hangs while swinging them in the space between eachother while walking, even though it’s kind of childish. and megumi doesn’t know how to say no to these things, to the boundless enthusiasm that is yuji!! and he also feels a little guilty because he kinda dragged yuji into this world, away from his friends and the familiar comfort/touch he was used too. so megumi doesn’t like, consciously, try to stop any of the touch despite his general aversion. instead he indulges yuji to the best of his ability, because he comes to find that it’s not always bad and he doesn’t really mind; it takes a while to fully like not have a defensive, fight or flight response to the touches and he defo judo flips and sucker punches yuji over and over, because yuji is 1000000% a sneak affection attacker. the closest touch has ever been to ‘nice’ for megumi is probably healing for his stupid amount of serious wounds, and as both an apology and his first steps in reciprocation, megumi applies the gentleness of healing touches he remembers to the injuries he (accidentally??) gives yuji, because all he really about touch that isn’t supposed to hurt is how to rub softly against a spot that will probably bruise, and how to wrap or plaster a cut from a judo flip that led to some scrapes, he’s very good at icing bumps and twists and strains; and so they put themselves back together like that, and yuji keeps up his ‘surprise back hug events’ like they don’t straight up lead to a bruised sternum.

nobara breaks down the ‘touch is violence, touch is pain and pain is bad’-thing even faster than yuji, because she’s lived by her philolosphy as an affectionate puncher, a sweet kicker; she’s defo the type to bite your fingers and pinch your arm, but it’s well and truly out of all the love she cannot contain in her heart (which frustrates her a little bit so she will give you a sharp jab in retribution for feelings). what helps uncross the wires of megumi’s learnt behaviour (or maybe cross them idk) that ‘touch and violence and therefore bad’, is that her teasing and, honestly barely painful, ribbing is always interspersed by the softest of touches that aren’t tinged by the smell of antiseptic, blood or pity. this type of touch gets more frequent the more comfortable they get with eachother (think learning to lean on eachother post yuji death), like nobara will say ‘ew’ while forcing megumi to lay his head in her lap when they’re tryna catch their breath during training, and if his towel is nearby she’ll pat the sweat off his forehead and then complain about said sweat just because she knows he likes listening to her complain about mundane stuff; and she’ll make a million and one spiky sea urchins puns (did you know the japanese word for urchin is uni and linguistically meguni is a hilarious pun that i can see happening in canon) but is the first to rake her fingers through the mess of megumi’s hair, if she noticed he’s tried and hasn’t been taking care of himself. like yeah she throws her pens at him when he tries to help her with their maths homework, but her aim is so scary good it’s funny, and he can always throw them back and she won’t really get any more angry, and so they throw pens at eachother and laugh about it and nobara sketches random patters on to megumi’s skin with the pen she almost used to impale his eye.

anyway the point i’m getting at (probably incomprehensible into this mess of hc and meta) is: yuji and nobara come along, and suddenly, touch isn’t something that burns a little, isn’t something that spooks, isn’t something that requires the tightening of megumi’s jaw and his ribs and his spirit, and of course, sometimes it gets a little overwhelming (WHICH IS OKAY!! TOUCH AS STIMULATION IS OVERHWELMING SOMETIMES AND THATS OKAY AND VALID, EVEN IF YOURE AN AFFECTIONATE OR TOUCHY PERSON!!) and megumi needs to like take a couple of steps back. and they talk about it, because communication is key, and boundaries are healthy things to put in place, and by god the first years will try and build as safe and healthy a relationship between the three of them as they possibly can! and yeah they talk about it, and some days touch is too much for of them and that’s okay, affection, fondness, compassion can be shown in other ways, through other actions and they’ll utilise those a bit more as easily as they utilise touch a bit less, and slowly but surely, megumi becomes a lot less touch-starved and starts to seek it out on his own and initiate it in ways that are comfortable to him, like learning to braid hair so he can play with nobara’s or grabbing yuji’s hand first while their walking or just pressing his thigh into whoever he’s sitting next to in class and that’s fine and that’s good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and i’m very much attached to this idea.

bonus gojo (as per usual): when megumi became his ward, for obvious, bitter, reasons he wasn’t really tryna like touch. this kid. riling megumi up was easy enough with just words and i feel like firstly, teasing is a part of gojo’s love language in a mirror of how it’s a part of nobara’s (mmmmmmm gojo and nobara parallels are another brain worm that EATS me) and secondly, gojo goes through his own thing with touch, and like affection. as someone whose essentially raised on an absolutely, ridiculous, pedestal and then successfully surpasses even the heights of that pedestal to basically become a living legend AND the whole physical, literal thing with infinity or limitless (or whatever his cursed technique is i’m sorry i didn’t pay attention to the cursed energy explanation any of the times it came up) ANYWAY, so gojo and megumi probably both touch-starved idiots. but, like gojo does care for megumi, like as his student and as this kid he watched grow up, like ofc he does because he’s not a completely useless person. and so he definitely encourages nobara and yuji’s plan to positively reinforce touch in megumi’s brain and slowly, for fear of being straight up bitten, endeavours to extend the casual affection he easily applies to the other two, to megumi too. idrk the logistics of it, but i think it’d be cute for one day gojo putting his hand out to ruffle megumi’s hair, but like not imposing his hand, like it’s just out and about really, and usually megumi nopes or hisses or whatever other gremlin mood he’s decided to incorporate to the finite number of facial expressions he’s willing to make, but today he’s feeling charitable and lets gojo ruffle his hair, kinda like a cat ya know, like leans into it a bit in a very clear you have permission to pet!!!! and gojo’s just jojo sobbing through his blindfold like “oh my god my son loves me” and megumi is regretting not biting him.

#fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji #kugisaki nobara #gojo satoru #HMMMM I DO BE PROJECTING THOOOOOOOOO #JAJSJDJJDJDJDJD #like i do be projecting jsjdjdjdj #but yeah guys clearly i have a lot of feelings about being touchstarved and megumi #i the gang just gets really close and comfy and i also think megumi wouldn’t be a good at touch person #some of us like affection and some of us get overstimulated when people keep touching us and we deserve to be represented #lmaoooo i’m really sticking to my plan to saturate the tag huh #i’ll rb this with actual blog archive tags after #ALSO!! people write more nobara megumi friendship please #like they spent months together as the only first years #they have shared trauma from it all #let them bond #healthy f/m friendships please i’m begging you

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comagwyn · 3 years

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In light of the Revue Starlight international fandom drama

Before I would like to start, I would like to say that I have been on both sides of this: as a creator and as an audience. And I know that this doesn't seem much but this has just been causing me so much distress and I just really want to get this off my chest.

Disclaimer: I am a tad bit emotional because my feelings have been on a high all week, so, forgive me if I seem a bit... irrational and incomprehensible. Also, this is a really, really long post.

If you don't know what's going on in the international fandom (more specifically in the Twitter sphere,) of the anime series, "Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight," allow me to give you a very brief rundown.

Revue Starlight has been known to have live musicals and performances, as well as two movies, an anime series, and as well as several mangas. Recently, last July, its movie and its third live, "Growth" had been available for purchase and for online viewing. Now, here's the issue: a popular Twitter account named, "Revue Starlight International" has been known to translate and offer official announcements to fans--despite it being run independently. This account ceased its operation in connection to the rampant leaking and posting of spoilers, screenshots, and videos, etc. of the movie and live performance. Though it's largely unconfirmed what the true reason is, many speculated that it has had something to do with some viewing parties on Discord, which many fans condemn and label as piracy. Some even claiming that they basically ripped off those who worked hard on the series, itself.

Now, here is where I insert my own opinion as a viewer, and as a fan. In all certainty, I can tell you that I do not condone crimes in any way, shape, or form--both for legal purposes and morality's sake. But as someone who has largely little to no means of officially supporting a series that I like, more often than not, I don't really have a choice. Now, usually, I would chalk this up to ignorance or privilege but... I really want to have a discussion with the people who had been largely shitting on those who leaked content, joined viewing parties, etc.. I can definitely tell you that those people want to support the series as much as you do, but you have to understand sometimes, they don't even have a choice (I'm talking about those who viewed it in less than... let's say official ways). Those people could be living in [developing] countries where they didn't have the access to Bushiroad's official sales, or they didn't have enough money to buy tickets because they had more important shit to spend it on.

Basically, my point is, stop blaming it on the fans. This is a really complex issue that shouldn't end up on pointing fingers on anybody.

Some fans have had to leave because others are making them feel less than because they simply don't have the means of accessing to the content the same way others could. And I understand that that is a legitimate concern, but to throw away that fact and to berate others for choosing the only choice they had is just plain ignorant and hypocritical. It's important to realize that not everybody is living in a desirable living situation, not everybody has the means and access to the content, not everybody can support the series in the way they want to.

In many ways, this issue shares many similarities with Broadway's "bootleg" problem--but I don't think I'm knowledgeable enough to draw more conclusions, so I'll leave that comparison as it is.

Truthfully, I am very conflicted as to how I feel about this issue. I admit, I have had my fair share of internet problems, but this is the only one that has really affected me this much (to the point of me seriously considering leaving the fandom entirely out of shame and guilt.) On one hand, it is considered piracy--point blank, and simple. But on the other hand, some people don't even have the means of supporting the series they love so much; even if they badly want to.

There is also another issue/reason of hobbies being "expensive" as a way to shame on other fans, but I can't into that issue without personal feelings getting involved, so, I'll place it to the side for the meantime.

All in all, I really don't know how to feel. It really sucks that this kinda thing has to happen on Claudine's birthday--so, I can't even enjoy that if I wanted to because of the anxiety swimming in my stomach.

Say what you will about the people who joined in viewing parties (the leakers are a whole different can of worms that I don't really wanna open)--I still think this matter could've been brought to light without needlessly shaming people who legitimately had no access to the content. It's very harmful to the fans who meant no ill will, and only did the best that they can. Although I'm not saying that we should certainly do that, it's important to remember that these are people too, with problems, and with personal experiences who just use the series as a way to escape their reality.

Note: We can continue discussing about this in the replies, but please remain respectful. I have done my very best for this post to be as calm and as even as I could, despite my worsening mental and emotional state, and I would like to continue calmly discussing this rather than screaming to a bunch of strangers on the internet. Also, I am really sorry if some personal views have made it on this post; the issue of accessibility and financial means have personal weight for me (as a college student living in the Philippines), so, I really apologize if I seemed to be leaning to certain sides.

#shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight #revue starlight growth #revue starlight live performances #opinion #please forgive me if I seem a bit tense #I am very anxious and the guilt still hasn't cleared so #yeah #long post #serious issue #fandom #international fandom

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secretpeachtea · 3 years

Text

Onigiri Miya Tidbits Ch 7

Title: the fox’s den

Genre: gen fic, reader insert

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Onigiri Miya is now hiring and you just happen to be the right person for the job. The business has been gaining popularity since its grand opening, and many customers travel from different cities just to have a bite of Miya Osamu’s delicious recipes. You did expect some craziness from working in food services, but what you didn’t expect was to be bombarded with frequent tomfoolery from a bunch of attractive volleyball players during your shifts.

disclaimer: manga spoilers

A/N: Hey y’all! There’s gonna be quite a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but I hope it’s not too boring. I was really excited to write this chapter since Inarizaki is my favorite team :D Hope you enjoy!

Previous///Next

There was always something entrancing about the second half of the year when the green and gray streets transform into a multicolored wonderland as a response to the incoming shift of seasons. You admire the different shades of red, orange, and yellow that litter the ground that you’re walking on as you make your way to work. The only things going through your mind right now are serenity, peace, and-

“‘SAMU, YOU BASTARD!”

At the sudden voice, you almost trip on your own feet in surprise. Once you’re sure you won’t fall flat on your face, you look up and see two familiar twins right outside the front door of Onigiri Miya, clear irritation written on their faces.

“How could you say that?! Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?” Atsumu yells at his brother while clenching his hands by his sides.

Osamu’s eyebrows are furrowed in distress. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one with common sense here. I’ve done what I can to convince you, but you just won’t listen to me!”

You start to worry now as you continue to watch the two glare at each other from where you’re standing a few feet away. You know it’s best not to interfere, but there’s a part of you that wants to stop them before things get out of hand. It seems like you don’t even have to make a decision as Atsumu’s eyes meet yours. “Hey, sweetheart! Come over here and tell this tasteless scrub that he’s wrong!”

“Who you calling a tasteless scrub, you uneducated swine!” Osamu crosses his arms in disdain but softens his gaze when his eyes land on your approaching figure.

“Hold up. What are you guys even talking about?” You try your best to keep your voice as relaxed as possible but still proceed with caution in case one of them were to blow up again in anger.

What you didn’t expect, however, were the next few words that came out of the blonde’s mouth. “The best Disney princess is obviously Rapunzel, but ‘Samu doesn’t agree!”

“You just like her ‘cause she’s blonde! Clearly, Belle is the superior princess!” The other twin spits back.

You pause for a moment to process the situation. That’s...not exactly what you expected when you first saw them arguing outside of the shop (and quite loudly too). A deep sigh leaves your lips as the two childish men in front of you continue to banter.

“Oh yeah?!” Atsumu suddenly directs his attention on you and places his hands on your shoulders for emphasis. “Sweetheart, who do you think is the best Disney princess?”

Already feeling an incoming headache, you just say the first thing that pops into your mind in hopes of stopping this madness. “Oh, uh...I don’t know. I think Mulan is pretty badass.”

The twins go silent as they contemplate your response for a brief minute. It seems like you gave a satisfactory answer because they both make eye contact with each other and nod their heads. Their strange twin telepathy is something you’ll never understand.

No longer having the patience, you just brush off Atsumu’s hands and use your spare key to open up the front entrance of the shop. The two men just follow you inside and the blonde is the first one to break the silence in a much calmer tone than before. “Okay, fair. But, I really do think-!”

Atsumu halts his footsteps as you and Osamu just glance at him confused. The blonde gasps dramatically as he stares at the new additions to the shop’s walls. “HEY! Why do you have their autographs on your wall?!”

Not wanting a part 2 to the previous fiasco, you just head over to the back room to put your belongings away and get yourself ready for work. Securing the cap on your head, you walk out of the room and stroll to your spot on the register. It seems like Atsumu is a lot more fired up than usual because he’s still arguing with his brother.

It took everything in Osamu to keep his voice at a normal level while responding to Atsumu’s pettiness. “They came over to eat one day and I thought it would look good for the shop.”

“Don’t you know that we’re ultimate rivals?! You can’t be siding with the enemy!”

“They’re your rivals, ‘Tsumu. Everyone’s technically considered a customer to me.”

“Traitor!”

You swear you saw puffs of smoke pop from Osamu’s ears from his frustration. You were about to place a hand on his shoulder in hopes to keep your boss from throwing something at his brother, but a smooth voice interrupted the tension in the room.

“Calm down, Atsumu.”

You and Osamu jumped in surprise, while Atsumu let out a startled yelp at the unexpected guest. The three of you turned toward the front entrance to see who showed up an hour before opening. Although you only heard one voice, three tall figures in casual clothing stand at the doorway. They step inside the building and you vaguely remember seeing their faces in a picture Osamu once showed you from high school.

The person in the middle of the group brushes away a couple strands of his gray hair with black tips while his other hand sits on top of the handle of a small suitcase. The one on the left has a built body with dark skin sporting a kind smile. The one on the right has a lanky body and long fingers that reach up to his face to cover a yawn on his bored expression.

If you remember correctly, Osamu had told you about some of his former teammates and the ones standing in front of you were Kita Shinsuke, Ojiro Aran, and Suna Rintarou.

The twins brighten in recognition and make their way over to the newcomers. “Kita-san! Aran-san!”

“I’m here too, you know.” Suna comments.

All of the guys greet one another in the middle of the room with smiles on their faces. You’re not really sure what to do since you’re the odd one out.

You stand off to the side behind the counter awkwardly, but you are interested in their little group dynamic. The Inarizaki alumni all hold completely different demeanors and postures, but one thing that they all share is that all of them are incomprehensibly attractive in their own way. Why are all of the former and current volleyball players that you’ve met so far like this?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you’ve been staring at Kita in particular for a couple minutes. He must have felt your eyes on him because he momentarily looks away from his current conversation to make direct eye contact with you. You let out a small squeak after getting caught staring, but it doesn’t seem like Kita is bothered at all.

“Ah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Kita leaves his group to walk over to where you are and this catches the attention of the other four males as well.

“It’s no problem! I wanted to give you guys room to catch up.” You lift up your hands to wave off his apology and give Kita a bright smile as you speak. “It’s finally nice to meet the oh-so-praiseworthy rice provider for the shop, Kita-san.”

Your reply elicits a soft laugh from the man’s mouth. “Nice to finally meet you too, (Surname)-san.”

“You know my name?” You ask, surprised.

“Aside from looking at your name tag, yes. I’ve heard some things about you from the twins,” Kita answers.

Your cheeks turn a bit pink in embarrassment because you completely forgot that you were wearing your name tag for work. Your embarrassment doesn’t last for long, however, when you quickly realize what Kita had just implied about the twins. You shoot an intimidating look at the two culprits and neither of them meet your gaze. “They talk about me?”

“Only good things. No worries.” Kita tries his best to reassure you that there hasn’t been any slander against you, but you still feel a bit insecure.

Knowing that feeling this way is probably unnecessary, you just resort to a little bit of teasing. “I don’t worry so much about Osamu-san. It’s the other one that needs to be kept in check.”

“Hey!” Atsumu’s head quickly turns to your direction at your very obvious accusation.

Suna snickers while ignoring his friend’s outburst. “She’s a smart one.”

“Hey!”

Aran chuckles in amusement and Osamu just smiles at his brother’s distress. You try to fake exasperation by placing a hand on your cheek and Kita’s smile falters as he catches something from the corner of his eye. The charm bracelet that you received from Osamu is secured to your wrist with the small onigiri charm shining under the fluorescent lights.

“Oh, so you’re the one…”

You look back at Kita in confusion. “The one what?”

Kita hesitates for a moment before simply shaking his head in dismissal with a knowing grin on his lips. “Ah, it’s nothing.”

You’re bewildered by his mysterious response, but it doesn’t look like he wants to talk about it anymore, so you just brush it off for now.

As everyone else continues their own conversations, Kita thinks back to a conversation he had a couple months back.

“The rice should be coming in a couple days, Osamu.”

“Sounds good, Kita-san.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“Actually...I have a quick question.”

“What is it?”

“What would you...um...give to someone who just graduated that’s not so generic or meaningless?”

“...Are you asking for your coworker?”

“Scary! Are you sure you don’t read minds or something, Kita-san?”

“I don’t believe I can. But, to answer your previous question, if you want to give a gift that holds more meaning, I would say buy or make something that’s personal to both of you. It could be from a fond memory you share or a common interest. However, based on the positive things I’ve heard about her, she would probably appreciate anything you give her.”

“Hm…”

Kita is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears Osamu’s voice nearby. “I’ll get you guys the usual, right?”

The rest of the guys all nod their head and Aran makes the motion to take out his wallet. However, before he can do so, Osamu lifts up a hand to stop him. “No worries, Aran-san! All of this is on me!”

Atsumu’s ears perk up. “You’re not gonna make me pay for my food this time, ‘Samu?”

Kita looks towards Osamu and slightly tilts his head in confusion. “You make your brother pay for his food?”

“Always.” Osamu answers without hesitation and with one of the most deadpan expressions you’ve ever witnessed on him.

“I see.” Kita simply nods his head in understanding. “It would be detrimental to your business if you gave things out for free too much.”

Atsumu grabs onto his former captain’s arms in exasperation. “Kita-san!”

A quiet giggle leaves your mouth at the scene in front of you. It seems like the twins are a bit more competitive and bicker more often when their former teammates are involved. Seeing this side of Osamu amuses you since you’re more used to his laidback nature.

Eventually the brief comical moment calms down and Osamu begins to prepare all of the food. Kita and Atsumu seemed to be in their own world, so you decide to try and speak with the other two people in the room that you have yet to be acquainted with.

Suna and Aran seem to have been thinking the same thing because they are already walking up to the counter in your direction. Suna raises his right hand in greeting, while Aran gives you a polite smile before speaking, “You must be (Surname)-san. Apologies for taking so long to greet you.”

“No worries.“ You wave off the apology. “You guys were also teammates with the twins in high school right? The only thing I really know are your names. What were your positions?”

“I was a wing spiker. I’ve actually known the twins since we were in elementary school,” Aran replies.

You clap your hands together in realization. “You guys are childhood friends then! I’m surprised you haven’t come up in my conversations with them more.”

“Those two were always running around all over the place just to compete against each other, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t remember half of the things they experienced in school.” Aran lets out a deep sigh, but you couldn't detect any real annoyance.

If the counter wasn’t in the way, you definitely would’ve patted the man on the shoulder. “Well if you’re as patient and calm as you are now with their antics for all those years, then you definitely deserve the appreciation, Ojiro-san.”

“You deserve it just as much since you see at least one of them almost every day now.” Aran sends you another kind smile and you can’t help but mirror it.

Not wanting to leave out Suna from the conversation, you turn your head towards the male who is just listening with his hands shoved into his pockets. “What about you, Suna-san? What was your position?”

“Middle blocker. Although, I did work as a part-time witness to the twins’ stupidity.” The stoic male smirks and looks at you in the eye. “Seems like you’ve taken up that job?”

You burst out laughing. “I can’t really deny that. We should be compensated for all this work.”

Suddenly, you feel a heavy weight on your shoulder that catches you off guard. When you look up, Osamu’s elbow is leaning on your shoulder and there are pieces of rice stuck to his fingertips. He has one of his eyebrows raised in suspicion. “Hey, why do I get the feeling that you guys are talking behind our backs?”

Suna looks directly at Osamu with his usual expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Feeling a bit playful, you also answer with the same deadpan tone. “Yeah, we’re just bonding over some relatable stuff.”

Suna takes one of his hands out of his pockets and raises it up next to you. Without hesitation, you give him a high five while holding back your smile. Aran just chuckles at the unexpected tag team between you and his former teammate.

Before your boss could make any more comments, his phone dings from where it’s sitting on the counter between his work station and the register. Osamu seems briefly conflicted since his hands are covered in rice but quickly comes to a decision. “Hey, (Name)-san. You mind holding up my phone for me? I think it’s a message about a shipment for some ingredients we needed to restock.”

“Yeah, sure!” You pick up the phone and a picture of Onigiri Miya with a large ‘Grand Opening’ sign in front of the entrance illuminates the lock screen. “Oh, you have facial recognition. I’m gonna have to borrow your face for a bit, Osamu-san.”

Osamu leans down as you place the phone in front of him for a couple seconds, but nothing happens. You try to angle the screen differently and wait a little longer, but it’s still not unlocking. Across the counter, Atsumu watches the two of you struggle through a few more attempts before losing his patience. “Just put the phone up to my face. It’ll probably work.”

A bit curious to see if the phone will actually unlock for the other twin, you move your arm to where Atsumu’s waiting. You keep the phone up for a few moments, but there’s still no response.

The blonde just stares at his brother’s phone in disbelief. “What the hell? Why isn’t it working??”

“Wow, even my phone can tell who the uglier brother is.” Yup. Osamu’s definitely feistier today.

“WE LITERALLY HAVE THE SAME FACE.”

The twins look like they’re about to start another round of unnecessary bickering. From the side, Kita sighs at the idea of having to intervene in yet another argument. He opens his mouth to stop the madness, but you beat him to it. You shove Osamu’s phone into his face again and surprisingly it unlocks. “Alright, guys. You can shut up now. I got it to work.”

Both Atsumu and Osamu shut their mouths immediately. They still looked a bit irked at one another, but no longer have the will to fight. Kita stares at you with shock. He’s never seen anyone other than himself dissipate the twins’ bickering so quickly and you haven’t even known them for as long as he has. Even Aran gives up at some point. Perhaps you are a much more important presence than he realized.

Clicking on the message notification, you lift up your arm just enough so that both you and Osamu can look at the screen comfortably. The message consisted of a picture of a shipment with a list of items. The list is barely legible due to the small font, so the two of you have to lean in closer to the screen.

“The text is so small. Can you read anything?” You ask as you bring the phone closer.

Osamu squints and wipes one of his hands on a clean towel before placing it over your own to steady the phone. “Barely. Why did he send such a terrible picture?”

The close proximity and subtle touches between you and your boss do not go unnoticed. As you’re discussing the contents of the picture, Suna and Aran share a knowing look with each other.

After a couple minutes of trying to decipher everything in the message, you and Osamu have successfully written down a complete list of all the shipment contents on a napkin. Osamu pockets his phone and the napkin before turning to look at you. “Okay, I think everything’s all good. Thanks, (Name)-san.”

“No problem!” You rub your eyes from the slight strain and move back to where you were standing before while Osamu finishes up making the last of the group’s food. Suna and Aran just watch you both go back to whatever you were doing before as if your cheeks weren’t millimeters away from each other a few seconds ago. The two males make eye contact once again, but just shrug their shoulders.

“Food’s ready! Grab your onigiris and drinks. We can sit at the table for a bit.” Osamu announces to his friends. Your boss turns to you briefly as he starts going around the counter. “Wanna join?”

“No, that’s alright. You guys use this time to catch up. I can take care of setting up the shop on my own, so take your time.” You give him a reassuring smile and he returns a grateful one back.

While the guys chatted about their lives, you set up the chairs and checked each of the sauce bottles to make sure none of them were empty. About fifteen minutes went by and you now had a broom propped up against your shoulder after sweeping. On your way back, you pass by the table where everyone is still talking with one another.

“I am funny! There just wasn’t anyone competent enough to get the joke!” It seems like Atsumu was yet again becoming a victim to the endless teasing of his former teammates because his face is slightly flushed and he’s fidgeting with pent up frustration. In hopes to ease his heated face, Atsumu roughly starts refilling his cup with ice water with a tight grip on the glass.

Suna shakes his head. “I thought it was funnier when you almost passed out from being overheated from the Jackasuke suit.”

“What?!” Atsumu abruptly stands up from his chair and in his haste, he doesn't realize that he had also raised his cup just as quickly causing the water to splash onto the nearest thing which just so happened to be you. “Oh shi-! (Name)-chan!”

The front of your shirt is entirely soaked and water drips down from your face and the tips of your hair. You mentally thank your boss for making the uniforms black. Lucky for you, your pants are completely dry because your apron took all of the damage. Aran, who is the next person closest to you, takes the broom from your possession and hands you a couple napkins to at least dry your face, but it’s definitely not enough to make a dent in your drenched clothes.

Atsumu frets over you with a look of immense guilt in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, (Name)-chan! I-I didn’t mean to do that!”

“It’s...it’s okay. Just try not to lose your cool so easily next time.” You can’t really say you’re happy about your current predicament, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good if you lash out in anger. The running A/C is much more apparent now that it’s much easier to feel the circulating cold air and you start to shiver a bit.

Osamu catches your attention from the corner of your eye when he stands up from his seat. “You good, (Name)-san? You should probably go put on a jacket or something.”

“I didn’t bring a jacket or any extra clothes with me today.” You sigh at your misfortune at how something like this happens on the one day you don’t have your hoodie with you.

Osamu’s frown deepens at the growing unfortunate circumstances. “Ah, damn. We usually have extra shirts in the back, but I left them at home to wash.”

You dread at the thought of either working with a wet shirt or having to walk all the way back to your apartment to change while suffering through the chilly breezes. However, the universe must be taking pity on you when you hear another voice join in.

“(Surname)-san, I have some spare clothes in my suitcase.” Kita pats the suitcase that he had brought into the shop with him.

You know that the best and most efficient way to get out of your misery is to accept his offer, but you’re still reluctant. “Oh no! It’s okay! I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

“I don’t mind. It wouldn’t do you any good to go around with wet clothing. You might catch a cold, especially since the weather is becoming cooler.” Kita immediately brushes off any concerns you may have. He zips open his suitcase and grabs a simple navy sweater from his pile of folded clothes. There’s a slight pause when he holds out the shirt to you before continuing the conversation, “It would mostly cause Osamu to be very distressed.”

There isn’t much room for arguing, so you slowly take the soft sweater from the older male’s arms and nod your head in understanding. “Yeah, I guess he would have to work twice as much if I’m not able to help out.”

Kita blinks at your oblivious rationale. “...right.”

You hear a hint of something in his tone but don’t dwell on it for too long because another blast of cold air hits your body causing you to shiver again. Muttering a quick thanks, you rush to the bathroom to change. After peeling off your uniform shirt and bundling it up with your apron, you wipe off any water that remains on your skin before slipping on the borrowed sweater. It’s much larger and warmer than you thought it would be. After gathering the wet pile of clothes, you head out of the bathroom in your new attire.

The table that everyone was sitting at is now completely cleared of any food and some of the guys are sitting at the counter while Osamu is washing all of the used dishes. Atsumu’s head is laying on the counter and still has distraught laced into his expression. He immediately stands up to apologize again when he hears you come out of the bathroom, but his words get caught in his throat when he sees you.

Kita’s sweater is definitely too big for your frame. The sweater reaches your mid thigh, but you’ve opted to fashionably tuck the front of it into your pants. The sleeves go past your hands only exposing your fingers and the collar reveals a sliver of your collarbone. The overall fit of the sweater creates an image that can make anyone stop and stare.

Atsumu’s ears redden at the sight in front of him and Osamu is frozen in front of the sink. Even Suna and Aran have briefly halted their conversation to stare silently. The only one who is visibly unaffected is Kita.

Kita decides to walk over to where you are and hands you an empty plastic bag. “You can place your wet clothes into the bag so it doesn’t get anything else wet. You can return the shirt to Osamu and he can give it to me before I head back home.”

“Ah, thanks! I’ll wash it tonight and give it to Osamu tomorrow when I come in for work.” You smile at him gratefully and do as he suggested. During the process, your sleeves roll down uncomfortably and you have to constantly pull at it so that it doesn’t get in the way.

Kita notices the way you are fidgeting and gives you an inquisitive look. “Are the sleeves bothering you?”

“Oh, um...just a bit, but it’s not too bad.” You reply.

The male just pulls the plastic bag away from your hands and puts it off to the side for the time being before holding out his own hands in front of you. “Here, let me help.”

You accept his assistance and hold out one of your arms to him. Kita calmly folds the sleeves to a proper length while you just watch quietly. Once he’s finished with one arm, he gently lifts the other and proceeds to fold the sleeve as well.

The rest of the guys were just watching silently. The entire scene is almost like it’s from some kind of shoujo anime. Atsumu swears there is even a sparkling background with multiple flowers to match the sweet moment. There’s a strange feeling bubbling inside Osamu’s chest, but he chooses to look away and continue washing the dishes. You and Kita looked really good together.

“Thanks again, Kita-san!” Once Kita finishes up the last sleeve, you smile at him once again. “I guess I was lucky that you decided to visit so suddenly today or I might’ve been in trouble.”

“You’re welcome.” Kita returns the smile. “We were all busy on the twins’ birthday last week, so it’s a good thing we rescheduled to today.”

“What.” You blink once. It takes a few seconds for you to process what the man in front of you had just said, but once it clicks, a wave of shock passes through your body. “What?!”

You scramble over to where Osamu is avoiding your gaze and grab onto his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me your birthday was last week?!”

“Oh uh… it never came up?” A bead of sweat runs down the side of your boss’ face.

Still enraged, you swerve your head towards the blonde twin and point an accusing finger at him. “And you! I would’ve expected you to be all over having the attention!”

Atsumu shrugs his shoulder in an uncharacteristically nonchalant way causing you to drop your arm in confusion. “Meh, I’m not really all that big on birthdays. I thought my brother would’ve told you.”

When you look back at Osamu, his hand is rubbing at his neck sheepishly. “It was your day off and you looked like you weren’t feeling well the day before, so I thought it’d be best if you rested.”

You’re not sure if you should feel touched that he noticed that you weren’t feeling so great last week or upset that he didn’t think to tell you about such a special day. Your boss has also been pretty busy lately due to work, so there is a part of you that is understanding of the situation. There isn’t really anything you can do about it now since it’s already too late, so you just sigh in defeat.

Kita decides to intervene before you get even more upset. “No worries, (Surname)-san. There’s always a next year for birthdays. If you wanted to spend time with him, I’m sure just asking will suffice.”

“Indeed. Osamu would definitely not mind making time for you, (Surname)-san.” Aran adds.

Atsumu seems to be feeling a bit left out and chimes in, “Wait, but what about me? It was my birthday too.”

“It’s not like Osamu knows how to do anything but play volleyball and work. Might as well take him out somewhere nice.” Suna mentions while ignoring Atsumu’s outburst for the nth time today.

“Woah, guys!” Osamu’s face flushes a bit from the teasing. You laugh at the group's antics and feel your frustration melt away.

Suddenly, a phone alarm goes off and Kita pulls out his phone to shut it off. “Well, we should get going now. We wouldn’t want to be in the way of your business, Osamu. We’ll see you tonight with the rest of our former teammates.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later.” Osamu replies with a wave of his hand.

“I have to get to practice too, so I’ll walk out with all of you.” Atsumu walks towards the exit with his hands folded behind his head. Aran and Suna get up from their seats to get ready to go as well. The two say their goodbyes to both you and Osamu before stepping outside to catch up with Atsumu.

Kita is the last one out, but before he closes the door he gives you one last glance. “It was nice to meet you, (Surname)-san.”

“You too, Kita-san!” Your lips curve upwards at being able to have met yet another kind person at work. Kita finally closes the door and now it’s just you and Osamu left in the shop. After having such an eventful morning, the peace and quiet is pretty refreshing.

Osamu looks at you from the corner of his eye thoughtfully. His gaze then shifts down to where his former captain’s sweater rests on your figure and he feels a twinge of irritation but keeps his expression neutral. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and change? You live pretty close by too.”

You think for a moment but eventually shake your head. “Hm...no it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to miss work just to change into another shirt. I think my extra uniform needs to be washed anyway. Is there something wrong?”

“...no.”

“Jealous that I talked to your friends more than you?”

“N-no!”

A giggle escapes your lips when you hear your boss stutter. “You know you’re my favorite onigiri chef, right?”

“I’m the only onigiri chef you know.” Osamu points out and you giggle even louder. The male can’t even be upset because your laughs are quite contagious. Although, he does make a mental note to bring one of his own sweaters to keep at the shop from now on.

Leftovers

The Miya household is a simple two bed apartment with a decent view of the suburbs around the area. Both Miya twins are considered residents of the complex, but Atsumu usually stays in the dorm available for MSBY players. Today, both twins are in the apartment.

“‘Samu, I swear this shirt makes me look fat-...?” Atsumu barges into his brother’s room without knocking but cuts off his words when he sees his brother intensely staring at a pile of hoodies scattered on his bed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out which hoodie I wanna keep at the shop.” Osamu responds distractedly.

Atsumu stares at him incredulously. “What? Just pick whatever. It’s not like you don’t go to work every day. Why does it matter? ”

Osamu pauses for a moment. “...for emergencies.”

“Whatever, man. I’m heading out to go buy some new volleyball shoes with Shoyo-kun.” The blonde shrugs off his brother’s strange behavior and chooses to just walk away since he needed to leave soon. He momentarily looks out the window and notices some dark clouds filling up the sky. “And, I’m taking your umbrella!”

Osamu doesn’t hear what Atsumu says and barely registers the slam of the front door because he’s too deep in thought. What was your favorite color again?

A/N: Ouch. I realized that if you were to actually follow the haikyuu timeline, some of this wouldn’t actually make sense. BUT I don’t care :D Also, not me indulging on some Kita action cause I am whipped for this man (but not as much as Osamu hehe)

taglist: @kiyoo-omi @tris-does-stuff @livshotel

#onigiri miya #onigiri miya tidbits #secretpeachtea #inarizaki #atsumu #osamu #kita #aran #suna #haikyuu fanfiction

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