#i remember when i was first trying to do comics 'seriously' one of the tips i saw for practice was trying to make comics out of films/scene | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

Text

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART THREE

Part One, Part Two

Warnings: just some swearing

May 1995

“We’re totally gonna get a record deal!”

Luke said for the tenth time in the past hour as he bounced in his seat.

It was Friday night and normally, you would all be messing around at the park, the beach, or just watching a movie in the studio. But when your phone rang and it was the booking manager for the Orpheum telling you that Sunset Curve is officially the new opener next month, the boys insisted on being there the second your shift at the diner was over.

So instead of arguing about having another Star Wars marathon or playing at the pier, you were all packed in your regular booth at Cece’s for celebratory milkshakes. You sat on the very edge of the booth, practically falling asleep on Alex. Ever since you got the call that morning, every cell in your body felt supercharged with excitement.

But now that the day was coming to an end, you could hardly stay awake enough to pay attention to the conversation.

Bobby, who was in your usual spot, pinched Luke’s arm. “Don’t jinx it, dude.”

“It’s not jinxing if you know for sure.” Luke said. “I mean, we’re awesome! And we’ve worked so hard to get to this point. It’s all gonna pay off.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you were still nervous. There was nothing you were prouder of than your music, and you knew that a crowd that big would be good for gaining a lot of new fans. But the idea of that many people seeing you perform and hearing your lyrics was nerve-wracking.

You could tell the others felt the same way. Bobby was biting his nails, Alex was bouncing his leg so hard it almost hit the table and Reggie was slumped against the wall. Luke just stared at all of you, his bright smile never fading.

He snapped his fingers so loud that you jumped at the noise, then he started digging in his pockets. “I know what’ll cheer you guys up.”

Luke pulled out a safety pin, then brought its point down into the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. After a few minutes, he brushed off the table and presented his design proudly. It was four words in huge slanted letters.

‘SUNSET CURVE WAS HERE’

“Seriously, Luke?” Alex said, his eyes wide. “Cece’s gonna kill you!”

Luke just smirked and handed him the pin, gesturing to the space under the words. “‘C’mon, man. You’re up first.”

It took a lot of convincing, but Alex eventually gave in, and one by one, you all signed your names.

‘Alex,

Bobby

Reggie

Luke

(Y/N)’

You heard the sound of Cece’s heels hitting the floor as she exited the kitchen. Panicking, you shoved the pin in your pocket just in time as she came up to the table.

Before she could even see that anything was different, Reggie pointed at Luke.

“He did it!”

Cece frowned before inspecting the table, letting out a deep sigh and putting her hands on her hips.

“Are you vandalizing my diner, Patterson?”

Luke paled. “It was a group effort.”

“But it was your idea,” Alex said with a smirk, no doubt trying to pin the blame on Luke to keep his spot as Cece’s favorite. You had to bury your head into his shoulder to contain your laughter.

You could tell from the way that she was struggling to keep a straight face that Cece wasn’t actually mad but you weren’t gonna tell Luke that. He tried to kick Alex’s leg under the table but he hit yours instead. You hissed in pain and Luke paled even further.

“Shit, sorry, (Y/n).”

“And abusing my staff?” Cece joked, shaking her head.

Luke flashed her a charming smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Cece. Just got a little excited.”

“I can see that.” She laughed then turned to you. “Hey. Get up. I got you something.”

You looked up at her in confusion but she didn’t offer you any answer as you dragged yourself up. Cece pulled a small blue box out from behind her back and handed it to you. “What’s the occasion?”

Cece rolled her eyes. “Just open it.”

The first thing you saw was a folded piece of paper with your name on it, under it was a silver key. You picked it up and held it in between your fingers as you carefully unfolded the paper to see three words in Cece’s careful handwriting.

just in case

You looked up at her, eyebrows knitted together. “Cece?”

She just winked as she put her hand on your cheek. “Honey, you know that I couldn’t have more faith in you and your rockstar dreams. But just in case things don’t work out...well, I couldn’t imagine giving this place to anyone else.”

You flew into her arms and hugged her so tight it was a little painful. Of course, all you wanted was for Sunset Curve to get signed to a label and take over the world. But this place was like home to you and the idea of owning it some day made your heart swell. “Thank you!”

The booth erupted in cheers and Cece playfully glared at them as she tucked you under her arm. “But you have to promise you’ll keep these boys of yours from doing any more damage to the property.”

Bobby scoffed. “Hey, we’re not-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth before nodding at Cece. “I’ll try my best.”

The bell on the door jingled to announce the arrival of another customer, and Cece left to greet them. You twirled the key around in your hand and looked at the boys' smiling faces, unable to hide your own.

As you settled back in the booth and took a sip of your milkshake, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was coming together.

2020

L.A was somehow so different, yet exactly the way you remembered.

The way the bright lights flooded the streets, to the way that every surface you see was decorated with a piece of art, made you anxious to re-explore the city you loved so much.

You couldn’t help but stare through your swinging legs at the crowds walking around below, listening to the soft buzzing of the Orpheum’s sign above your head.

An hour ago when Luke had suggested walking around the city, you figured you would end up here eventually. But now that you were actually here, you couldn’t help the hollow feeling that settled in your stomach.

It must’ve shown on your face because Luke launched into one of his motivational speeches. “C’mon, guys. I know being dead wasn’t our first choice. But you gotta admit, it is easier to get around.”

Reggie pouted. “Easy for you maybe. I lost my shirt on that one.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was shirtless until it reappeared in a flash and he sighed in relief.

“So, why did you bring us here?” Alex asked Luke. “Just another painful reminder of where we never got to play?”

You smiled sarcastically. “Yeah, thanks, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Because, we’re not done yet!”

He slung his arm around Alex’s shoulder, and gripped yours as he poofed you all down to the sidewalk, pulling away from you as fast as possible once your feet were back on the ground.

“I’m telling you.” Luke said. “We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s go see how many clubs we can hit before sunrise!”

He started walking down the street and Reggie was quick to follow, leaving you and Alex behind. As you watched them skip down the sidewalk, Alex let out a sharp ‘hey!’ and you whipped around to see him rubbing his shoulder.

A man in a long black suit stared straight into your eyes before tipping his hat to Alex and disappearing down the street. Every hair on your body stood on end as you stared at the spot where he was just standing.

“That was weird.” You said, turning to Alex. “You okay?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You could hear Luke and Reggie’s excited shouting as they ran down the street, but you and Alex kept your distance. He reached his arm out to you and you took it automatically.

Over the last six months, Alex had become your best friend. You had always been close but last summer when things got bad with his parents, he turned to you.

And when things started to get weird between you and Luke or you had a fight with your mom, Alex was the only one you wanted to talk to.

“Alright.” Alex sighed. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“I know you’re dying to talk about Luke.”

“I am not!”

Alex raised his eyebrows, clearly not convinced.

“Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing-” He took in a sharp breath. “(Y/n), for someone so smart, you’re acting like a dumbass.”

You put a hand on your chest, dramatically gasping. “Alexander Mercer! I had no idea you were capable of using that kind of language.”

He flashed you his middle finger before unlocking his arm from yours and pulling you into his side. “Seriously though. What’s rolling around up there?”

You were quiet for a few minutes as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I just want to know what I did, you know?”

Alex nodded, but didn’t say anything, as he knew that you were just getting started.

“I mean, he’s always been there. He's always been my person. The one who I could count on for anything. Then that night in the studio, I thought…”

You trailed off and Alex held you a little tighter. Even though he wasn’t there, he could probably describe that night in exact detail from the amount of times you had told him about it. “I just miss him."

“Yeah, I know.” Alex said, his eyes glued to Luke’s back. “But, hey, you know that he loves you, and that didn’t change because of one night.”

He started to say something else but cut himself off as he saw Reggie and Luke approaching, both with big, goofy smiles. Reggie took your arm that wasn’t around Alex’s back and locked it in his.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked.

“Nothing!” You said way too fast, cringing to yourself as you dragged Reggie down the sidewalk. “Come on, Reg. Let’s go see if that old comic book shop is still around.”

As the night wore on, you became more and more thankful that you weren’t able to get tired.

You spent the whole night sneaking into concert venues, clubs, and pretty much any place you wanted now that there was no chance of getting caught. It wasn’t until you passed a small street-side café that you let yourself think about the one place you hadn’t been yet.

Cece’s Diner.

When Julie told you it had been 25 years, you assumed that it had closed down. That Cece had moved away. Maybe even reconnected with her son and lived out her life. It seemed like such a perfect thought that you didn’t want to ruin it with reality.

But now that you had seen the way things had changed in the time you had been gone, you were now filled with a sense of urgency. You launched up the sidewalk until you were in front of the boys.

“Hey, guys?” You asked. They all stared at you curiously as a smile slowly spread across your face. “Anyone up for milkshakes?”

When you walked up to the diner - for only an instant - it was as if no time had passed. You felt the urge to run inside, throw your hair up in a ponytail, and make a beeline for the kitchen before you got in trouble for being late for your shift.

Only as you got closer, you realized how much had changed. The building, which had always been a little ordinary and worn like a well-loved home, now felt about twenty stories tall. You dragged yourself forward toward the door, unable to look away.

The boys lingered behind you, but no one said a word.

Your hand reached for the doorknob before you remembered that you wouldn’t actually be able to touch it.

I really gotta get used to that, you mumbled to yourself as you walked through the door.

It looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize it.

The bright blue paint had been replaced with brown on every wall, bookshelves lined the corners of the room, and long leather couches had replaced the booths and tables. The old jukebox had disappeared, and some old jazz song was playing over speakers over your head.

“Can I help you?”

A voice asked from behind the counter. It was a boy that looked a little older than you, messy black hair and an uninterested smile. He dragged a blue pen across the margins of a book as he waited for your answer.

“You can see us?” Alex asked, to which the boy rolled his eyes.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” He said, raising his eyebrows when you all failed to answer either of his questions.

“My, my. Aren’t we chatty.”

“Who are you, exactly?” You said, trying to mask your annoyance with a smile.

“Teddy.” He said, pushing himself off the counter and making his way around until he stopped just a few feet ahead of you. “And you’re (Y/n).”

A shiver ran down your spine. “How do you know that?”

“You were a friend of my grandma’s.”

Before you could ask what the hell he meant by that, a man came walking out of the kitchen. He looked so much like Cece that it made your stomach flip. It was her son.

And as you looked back at Teddy, your mind slowly connected the dots. “You’re Cece’s grandson?”

He nodded.

“Okay, this is just too weird.” You said as you rubbed your temples. There was no way that this was actually happening, right? Maybe you somehow fell asleep and are having some weird ghost dream.

“Okay, well I definitely feel old.” Alex sighed.

Your head was spinning. “What is even happening right now.”

Teddy smiled. “Well, it’s too bad we’re dead or else I would buy you coffee and explain it to you.”

You internally cringed at his pick-up line but you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Normally, random guys flirting with you made you uncomfortable but behind his cocky attitude, he seemed like a genuine guy.

Maybe it was the way that he twirled his pen between his fingers the way that Cece used to, but something told you that there was more to him than meets the eye.

Before you could answer, Luke spoke up. “Well, it was nice meeting you. But we really should be getting back home.”

You could see that he was right as the pale light came in through the windows as the sky started to lighten.

But you couldn’t help but notice that this was the first time he had interjected in the conversation since you got there, and a small part of you wondered if that had anything to do with the way that Teddy was staring at you.

You shook those thoughts from your head, giving Teddy a soft smile.

“Maybe next time.”

Though you weren’t capable of getting cold, you still shivered a little as you walked through the door and back out onto the street. You could feel Luke’s eyes on the side of your face, flickering down to the sidewalk when he saw you looking.

You gave him a light nudge on the shoulder, and he gave you a soft smile that you couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind.

That was pretty much all you got from Luke these days.

“So,” Luke said, his enthusiasm returning in full force as he threw his arms over Alex and Reggie’s shoulders. “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially back in business.”

The second that you landed in the studio, your jaw dropped.

Julie was sitting at the piano, her voice shaky but full of passion as she belted out the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard. Her fingers hit the keys expertly and you smiled.

You closed your eyes, listening to her voice echo through the room and getting lost in the warm feeling the lyrics filled you with. It wasn’t until she stopped singing and sniffled quietly that your heart dropped.

Both you and Alex surged forward to comfort her but Luke shook his head and swirled his finger, signaling to meet up outside. You wanted to protest. To stay and comfort your new friend.

But Julie sniffled again and you thought that maybe it would be a good idea to give her space. You made a mental note to talk to her later and poofed out of the garage.

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #julie molina #Reggie Peters #Alex Mercer #jatp fanfic

146 notes · View notes

mojjisxng · 3 years

Note

Hiii! Do you remember the amazing scenario you wrote where enhypen uses your insecurity in an argument and how they will make it up to you? If requests aren't closed can I get the reverse: you use enhypens insecurity in an argument and how you would make it up for them? Thank you very much ❤️

thanks for requesting anon, i hope you like it❤️

a/n- this descended into madness by the end, i got too carried away. i don’t even think this can be considered to have any angst in it at this point, especially niki’s. i do still like this reaction a lot though haha

heeseung

- any amusement that he had towards the argument instantly vanishes

- his face goes completely blank

- there’s just an awkward silence as you both stare at each other for a few moments (which honestly feels like five hours)

- you understand that you’ve taken it too far

- so you walk over to him and throw your arms around his waist

- you murmur constant apologies into his hoodie, close to tears yourself

- he just pulls you back, looks into your eyes and explains why you should never do that to anyone EVER

- and that you should make him four cups of ramen and buy him chicken, to make it up to him

- after that, heeseung is rejuvenated with mischief

- and he starts to plot ways that he can get you back for a being a little bitch, so good luck :D

jay

- not to bring astrology into this...

- ...but jay is an aries-taurus cusp like me

- so mans has some built up anger and he’s quite stubborn

- this means that he’ll hurl some pretty mean insults right back at you

- so the both of you are now MAD mad, and totally not willing to apologise first even though you know you should definitely be the first one of you to apologise at some point

- this is where the problem lies, because the two of you go to storm out of the house at the same time

- so you’re stuck between jay and the doorframe, trying to squeeze out first

- that’s a RAS moment for you both there

- this leads you and jay being reduced to a laughing mess on the floor, hoping your neighbours didn’t catch the embarrassing scene

- which they did on their security cameras

- you also seriously apologise to jay, because your dignity has already been flushed down the toilet, so you felt that being stubborn would do nothing for your ego at this point

jake

- jake processes the snide comment you made on his insecurity, and just says in the tiniest voice...

- “i’m not gonna lie, that’s kind of stung. but i know you don’t mean it, so it’s fine i guess :/”

- he also has this tiny, emotionless smile on his face, as looks down at the floor

- your heart sinks at how defeated he looks and you just break

- you know you fucked up badly

- how could you be so heartless towards sweet angel jake?

- so you sprint over to him

- stare at him for a second

- and burst into tears

- and then you hug him so tightly he might burst, while chanting apologies to him and telling him that you did not mean it and you don’t even know why you even thought to say that

- you just cuddle for the rest of the day, you insisting that you’re the big spoon because you want to protect your sweet baby jake from the world that was a bit dramatic but oh well

sunghoon

- you say some stupid bs about something he’s insecure about, while you’re arguing about who knows what

- there’s a pause

- a blink

- and a breath

- and then sunghoon bolts out of the room as quickly as possible

- so you’re just left there in the middle of the living room, with guilt crawling into every cell of your body

- meanwhile, sunghoon is in the furthest room away from you, because he doesn’t want you to hear him s o b b i n g

- i feel like sunghoon wouldn’t usually show you when he’s even a little bit sad, so he would be humiliated if you saw him upset because of something you said to him

- but unfortunately for him, you heard him crying, while you were looking for him

- you already felt horrible, but now you just felt like you had committed the worst crime possible, because your emotionally strong boyfriend was now curled into the foetal position on the bed, crying

- you basically jump on him, so that he can’t escape and you engulf him in your arms, even if you’re tiny

- and you’re rambling a huge apology and telling him that you will do anything for him

- you also kiss his tears away awwww not me being soft for once

- after he’s calmed down, he will go back to his usual cocky self, and start teasing you by asking for lots of things

- but the thing is, you actually do everything that he asked because you feel so terrible

sunoo

- so after you’re done talking your shit on sunoo’s insecurity...

- ...he just glares at you for a whole minute, in silence

- then turns on his heel and struts out of the room with his head held high

- he will not show you that he is hurt by your words

- he won’t let you win

- you’ll find him in the kitchen, seething

- and aggressively making a sandwich

- you tip-toe closer to him, back-hugging him, while giving your apologies

- but he just shakes you off and stalks into the living room

- this continues for two days

- and you can’t stand his silent treatment

- so you keep bugging him with saying “sorryyy” and “i love youuu”

- until he finally gives in

- you’re like “i’m so incredibly sorry; i would despise it if you talked to me like that. i should never have acted in such a way, even if i was angry. there’s no excuse. i love you to the moon and back and beyond, i hope you know that.”

- and then sunoo replies “i do know how much you love me, and i know you didn’t mean it. i was just very hurt and very angry. i love you too, so so much...even though you’re not all that...”

- it was time for him to run 🚪🏃‍♀️

jungwon

- jungwon would fucking stare at you

- you’d be so intimidated by him

- you already knew how much you’d messed up

- but he would make sure you knew even more

- this child would firmly take your hand and drag you to sit down on the sofa

- and then he’d GO IN

- jungwon would lecture you for like two hours on why that was a horrid thing to do, why that would upset someone and why you should absolutely not do that to anyone again

- this would be his punishment to you, by treating you like a little kid, really patronising you to convey his disappointment

- you can tell he’s the leader of enhypen, because he would transform into a fifty year old mother

- he honestly might even make you cry by accident of course

- you would then proceed to do a very solemn and formal apology, like a berated child

- and then he would pull you into a hug

- i feel like it would all turn quite comical from an outside view

niki

- speaking of a serious situation that descends into something ridiculous, it’s niki’s turn!!

- you shoot the insult in his direction

- and then there’s a beat of silence

- you know you’ve fucked up

- so you start yelling out apologies before he can even open his mouth to say a single word, like “I’M SO SO SO SO SORRY! I DID NOT MEAN IT AT ALL! WHY DID I EVEN SAY THAT?!?! OH MY GOD DON’T HATE ME PLEASE!!!”

- and tbh niki finds this VERY funny

- but he plays up to it

- “no...no...i can’t believe you would say something as preposterous as that. you’re the definition of EVIL!” and then probably dramatically falls back onto the sofa with his hand over his face mainly to hide his laughter

- and you’re just stood frozen, on the edge of a mental breakdown

- until he goes “but you could make it up to me by making a musical about how sorry you are :DDD”

- you let out the biggest sigh of relief, that you didn’t even know you were holding

- but then you process what you’re going to be doing, so you’re just staring at into space like 😟

- long story short, you end up giving up all the pride you had left, to entertain niki with your horrendous singing and dancing one man show about how apologetic you were

- you and niki were on the floor crying with laughter by the end of your finale, which was a less than perfect rendition of ‘purple rain’ by prince

187 notes · View notes

whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 7: Symptom

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Three days in a row on accident because I have 0 self control. Someone on ao3 suggested a hot spring scene but it didn't fit the narrative- SO I have also written two "interludes" in the springs. I will post those both this weekend for funsies. No idea where they fit in the story but they're fun so who cares? Haha.

Part 6 Interlude One: Electricity in the Springs (Kung Lao x Reader) Interlude Two: Steam (Liu Kang x Reader) Part 8 Chapter Index

Together you walked through the temple, Kung Lao leading you down several flights of stairs, further into the mountainside. He chatted with you casually about several of the halls that you passed; what was down them and places he had explored with Liu Kang when they had been strictly forbidden to do so. You were grateful for the white noise of conversation. It was even nostalgic. He’d talk like this when he’d come to visit you at your Grandma’s. He’d talk and talk about anything and everything, even if you never said a word.

“Y/N?” He slowed his walk. You turned toward him and stopped walking just in front of where he’d now stopped. “Can I ask you something? And will you be honest with me?”

“Depends on the question, Kung Lao.”

“Are you sweet on Liu Kang?”

Completely floored by the boldness of his accusation, you stuttered and then laughed uncomfortably. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just curious. You lit up when he joined us in the pit.” He seemed barely able to say the words without gagging though there was a playful smile on his lips still.

“I don’t remember you being such a gossip.”

“You’re avoiding answering the question, Y/N.”

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved his shoulder. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer.” You were flustered to say the very least. Kung Lao was so damn forward, a far cry from how any of the time you’d spent with Liu Kang had been. He’d just outright asked! Of course you were sweet on Liu Kang, of course you were.

“Oh? Well, then what about me?” He tapped his chest with a childlike grin. “Were you ever sweet on me? Are you still?”

“You know, I am seriously considering throwing ink at you again.” You batted your eyelashes and spoke in a teasing sort of way. The questions were intrusive but he said them in such a way that it was actually comical. It was funny, honestly, to think that you’d fallen right back into a rapport that you’d had with Kung Lao when you were kids. He stepped in front of you to stop you from continuing forward. Then he pointed to your left. You followed him down the hall and then he leaned against the wall near an opening that led down yet another hall. He tapped the sign to his left that read ‘women only’.

“I can’t go past here without getting in trouble.” He held his arm out to stop you as you made to walk past him to further avoid awkward conversation. He didn’t need to say anything. The look he gave you was enough to know that he wanted an answer.

“I’m not thinking about that right now, Kung Lao. I’ve got ink in places that I don’t want to discuss with you.” You pouted and knocked his arm aside. He pulled it back. “What’s going on with you? You just got back and we’ve barely spoken since, you know, you died.” You emphasized the word more dramatically than necessary. The humidity beyond the hall in front of you was already filling the hall and you craved the comfort of clean, hot water. “These are silly questions, anyway.” Your nerves were very much shining through. You weren’t ready to admit anything to anyone. The last thing you wanted was Kung Lao meddling.

“I brought you something, that’s all.”

“I feel like this something comes with terms and conditions with the way that you’re talking.”

“Not at all. But if you’re sweet on Liu Kang then it might make things weird.”

“Do whatever you want, Kung Lao, just do it quickly. The ink is starting to crust and this conversation has made me so uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to give it to you no matter what your answer had been. I was just trying to weasel an answer out of you.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“Some things never change.” Despite your obvious frustration, you couldn’t help but smile. Kung Lao had been a huge comfort to you when things had been at their most difficult in your youth. It was as though he’d never left. The lack of distance you felt between you was strange and you struggled to wrap your mind around it. You had to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years. “You’re such a pest, Kung Lao.”

You walked through the doorway but Kung Lao grasped your wrist and twisted you back to face him. You made a sound of surprise and stumbled into him. He caught you with a laugh.

“You’re clumsier than I expected after how you fought earlier.”

“Kung Lao, I swear.”

He reached between the folds of his shirt and withdrew a small purple flower. Your stomach dropped and you stared with your mouth hanging open, having been forming an empty threat. The flower. It was the exact same kind of flower that he’d given you the last time that you’d seen him when you’d been kids. Your heart had practically stopped in your chest.

“I made a detour on the way back. You’re right. They don’t grow in town anymore. Had to look around a bit before I found one.”

“Kung Lao…” Chills raced down your spine and you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat before reaching to grasp the flower. Kung Lao pulled it out of your reach.

“I thought that instead of teasing you like I used to as a dumb kid that I would be better off making a kind gesture.” Much to your surprise, he took your hand and placed the precious flower in your palm.

“I… uh…” You stuttered, feeling just about as clueless as you sounded.

“Enjoy the springs, Y/N. You can have your privacy for now but next time we’re joining you.” He patted your shoulder then tipped his hat and turned, walking away with a skip in his step down the hall.

You watched him go and sighed, resting your back against the stone wall while staring at the flower that he’d left you with. It was a precious little thing, with soft rows of petals that seemed frail but held on stronger than they looked. There was a small speck of pollen at its center and the stem was just long enough that you could wrap your fist around it. You’d gone looking for those flowers once in hopes of keeping them in the garden behind the dojo. There hadn’t been any and when you’d asked about them, no one knew where you could find one. It had been so long since you’d seen one living that you’d forgotten how resilient and perfect they were.

It seemed a small thing but it was also a huge gesture. He hadn’t said what the gesture meant but he had implied it well enough. You were surprised by how touched you were by the flower. If he’d caught you out there staring at the flower, then you would have never heard the end of it. He’d likely have teased you for being sweet on him.

You turned and entered the hall just to your left. There was a changing room with rudimentary waterflow systems so that you could clean off before going into the actual springs. You had never been so grateful for running water in your life. Ink pooled at your feet as you showered off, scrubbing as much of the ink away as you could. As you did, you felt your side sting painfully. Then blood flowed freely with the spray of water. You held your hand over the wound on your side and winced. You’d forgotten that Kung Lao had gotten you with the hat. You’d been so full of adrenaline and excitement that it had slipped your mind.

Now that you’d felt it, it was difficult to forget. Besides that, it was bleeding fairly freely for something that had happened some time ago now and should have scabbed over. It was probably a bad decision but you were going to enjoy the springs anyway. You found a first aid kit and covered the wound with gauze, then the gauze entirely with tape to protect it from the water. Then you took one of the towels there and wrapped it around yourself.

The cave beyond was smooth and the steam filled the room from floor to ceiling. These springs were huge. The cave formation seemed fairly natural, settling in shallow areas with deeper pools spread throughout. From where you stood, you couldn’t see the end of it but you didn’t feel the need to go far. In the distance, you could see several other monks enjoying the springs but they were far enough away that you wouldn’t be bothered by them.

You were suddenly disappointed that Kung Lao and Liu Kang hadn’t joined you. It was likely that they were too busy anyway. Your face went red at the mental image of what could have been and you sunk into the water and swooned. It was probably for the best that you’d come alone. Next time though, all bets were off. You rested the flower next to you on the stone beside where you rested your head.

It was difficult not to fall asleep with the warmth of the springs and the sound of rushing water in the room behind. Now that you were drifting in and out, you were grateful for some alone time. Often the air around Liu Kang was so stifled with whatever tension you’d cooked up that day that you couldn’t talk or think straight. And you had no idea what was happening with Kung Lao. You had to talk eventually and catch up but for now, those were all problems for you to deal with later. Future Y/N’s problems. Right now nothing mattered except for you, the steam, and the comfort of the springs.

Finally, you got up and as you did, the room spun. How long had you been lying there? Time was difficult to judge in the dimly lit cavern with scant an opening to the outside world. You lifted yourself from the springs, cautious of the flower you’d set aside, and sat on the edge. Then you whined since your towel and the water surrounding you was stained pink. Apparently two layers of gauze and a roll of tape wasn’t enough to keep the wound closed.

How embarrassing. Light-headed with blood loss because you’d been careless.

You picked up the flower and returned to the changing room. There were no extra clothes so you had to choose towel or filthy gi and you trusted the gi more than the towel. It was as crusted as you had joked it had been earlier. Before tying the top closed, you checked the wound and inhaled sharply at the sight of it. It bled freely and was red and ugly looking. Panic swelled in your chest.

When you’d been a kid your wounds had bled more freely than they should have. Even a scraped knee had been a problem. Doctors had put you on medicine to help you clot but it hadn’t helped. There was no way it was happening again. You’d outgrown it.

No, you were being silly. It had been the water and bad timing. You wrapped the wound tightly again but the damage had been done and your fingers tingled as a reminder. You’d been a fool not to go to the infirmary before going to the springs. Between the poison having made your blood such a mess and your recovery from those wounds, it was a wonder that you hadn’t accidentally bled to death while napping in the springs!

Carefully, you tied the gi closed and then tucked the flower inside of it safely. When you’d been led there by Kung Lao earlier, you’d made a point to remember where you’d come from so that you could return without getting lost. You’d spent more time lost in Raiden’s Temple than you had ever spent lost in your life.

You felt Liu’s energy before you saw him turning a corner and walking toward you. He smiled in greeting but it quickly fell into a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

You sure were tired of that question. Then again, you didn’t feel well thanks to your lack of foresight.

“Huh?”

“You’re incredibly pale.”

“Oh yeah. It’s dumb, really.” You pulled on the tear in the side of your gi and Liu’s worry only worsened.

“You said you were fine earlier.”

“Adrenaline is a funny thing, Liu. I forgot about it until I was cleaning up.”

“Kung Lao didn’t help you take care of it before letting you go?”

“I’m almost certain that he alsoforgot about it.”

“Careless.” Liu Kang didn’t sound surprised. “Come sit with me. We’ll take care of it.”

You looked him over, pulled the sliced gi a little and then looked back to Liu knowingly. What, were you just supposed to take your shirt off so that he could take a look at your wound? He laughed and held both his hands up defensively as if realizing what he was asking you to do. You caught the slightest bit of red on his cheeks. It was nice to know that it wasn’t in your head.

“If you aren’t comfortable doing that then come with me to the infirmary.”

“Ugh.” You were so tired of the infirmary! But you were feeling the impact of blood loss at an alarming rate. Your fingers were frigid and your breath was shallower than it should have been. You leaned against the wall nearby with a heavy sigh.

“Please?”

“I can probably sleep it off, Liu.”

“You’re like a ghost, Y/N.” He tried to joke but the worry in his eyes wasn’t going away. You were such a sucker for those eyes that you melted almost immediately.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You pouted and he laughed, offering you his arm.

“Thank you for humoring me, Y/N.”

Together you walked through the maze of corridors. Liu filled you in on what he and Kung Lao had done after you’d left. It hadn’t been anything remarkable, mostly tasks they were given to contribute to the life they lived in Raiden’s Temple. When you reached the infirmary, you were taken away by one of the female monks that you’d gotten acquainted with during your time there. They offered you a change of clothing and you couldn’t have been more grateful. A tank top and some comfortable loose pants. Familiar clothing, at long last. It was far easier to maneuver those around with the wound on your side.

Afterward you returned to the main room and sat on one of the benches there. The monk crouched next to you and you lifted up your shirt to show them the wound. It definitely looked uglier than it had earlier but it had also gone completely numb. Why couldn’t it look like the minor convenience you’d viewed it as earlier? Now it was swollen and the flesh was torn and jagged. Liu’s expression shifted and he turned away from you to hide it.

“It’s good you came to us. Don’t want to get an infection.” The monk offered you a smile then set about working on the wound. It was no longer numb and you twitched but stifled any painful objection you may have had. Liu stood behind the bench and offered you a hand to squeeze which you took.

“I’m fine.” You reassured him but your brain was buzzing. Did he think you were weak? Frail? Easily broken? You were strong! You had worked so hard to be strong. It was just a bad situation, overall. Kung Lao had immediately regretted throwing the hat at you. Accidents happened. You were getting it taken care of and you would be the better for it.

“Stay with us for a few hours to make sure you are alright.” The monk said and while it seemed like a question, it didn’t really seem optional. You exchanged a glance with Liu who you knew would argue with you to get you to stay. You had no leg to stand on except that you wanted to go back to your room.

“Fine.” The monk bowed to you gratefully and walked away. Liu had you scoot over and then took the seat next to you.

“I told you that hat was trouble.”

“You did. And I know staying is the right thing to do. I’m not happy about it though. I want to be strong again, Liu. It’s one setback after another.” He picked up your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll get there. Be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, monk stuff, inner peace and all that.” He laughed at you. “So much for celebrating.”

“There will be plenty of time to celebrate later. This is more important. Tomorrow is another day.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll stay until you find rest.”

“I’m not sleeping here tonight, Liu. I’m going back to my room the moment they say I can.”

“Sure, Y/N.” He seemed unconvinced and you pouted. Afterward you made casual conversation about your arcana, things that Liu wished to test, and what they thought your capabilities might be. Liu seemed to think you’d be excellent at mimicry. What was ink used for if not to record things? Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

***

Liu Kang waited until you fell asleep then watched you for some time afterward. Just to make sure you were alright. Then he crept away from where you rested and consulted with the monks, ignoring their snide remarks about the attention he paid you. It wasn’t their place to judge what he did with his time.

He finished his errands for the evening and as he returned to his quarters, he found Kung Lao in the fight pit, tossing his hat about and practicing. Liu stepped into the fight pit and when the hat turned toward him, he knocked it back with a definitive kick where it slammed against the sand. Kung Lao willed the hat back to him, caught it, and slipped it back on his head, strip neatly tucked under his chin.

“Want to spar? I don’t think I can sleep.”

“No, I’m good.” Liu folded his arms over his chest. “You were careless today, Kung Lao. Y/N nearly bled to death because of it.”

“What? Is she okay?” Kung Lao took an aggressive step toward the stairs but Liu held his arm out to block him, stepping back with him. Liu then explained where he’d found you in the hall and what they’d had to do in the infirmary where you were now resting. “…so she’s fine, is what you’re saying.”

“That’s not the point, Lao.”

“I’m sorry, Liu. I forgot. She handled it like a champ and kept on fighting. I was extra careful but it slipped! We were having so much fun that we may have gotten carried away. We used to pretend when we were kids…”

“I’m not here to scold you. I only wanted to let you know and to remind you to be mindful. Not all the warriors with the marking will be the two of us. Some might not have any experience at all. We’re lucky that Y/N does.”

“What is this, Liu?” Kung Lao’s tone shifted and his lips curled into a knowing smile.

“The consequences of your actions.” Liu turned to leave the arena.

“You know, I asked you to make sure that she was okay and keep her safe not to fall for her.” Kung Lao called after him. It wasn’t an accusation. He didn’t sound angry. He’d always had a way of stirring the pot.

“And keeping her safe is what I’ve done. Then you come back and undo half of the progress she’d made because you wanted to show off.” Liu turned again to face him. There was nothing that would undo their bond of brotherhood but Kung Lao had always been his careless counterpart. In the Academy he’d skipped classes, ignored studies, and had dragged Liu into all sorts of trouble. While Liu had been more studious, he’d gotten them into plenty of trouble over the years too.

“I’m sorry. Really, Liu. I’ll be more careful.” Kung Lao slipped his hat under his arm. “You’d tell me though, right?” Liu threw him a disapproving glare. “When I left back then one of my biggest regrets was not telling her the truth. I never thought I’d see her again so with time I wasn’t sure it mattered. Now I have a chance to be better than I was then. So, I’m going to ask you again. What is this, Liu? You’d tell me, right?”

Liu stepped back. They’d wrestled over far less and he was in no mood. He didn’t know what to say either. He didn’t want to lie to Kung Lao but he wasn’t sure what it was other than a few close calls and some pretty clear attraction.

“That was more than enough of an answer.” Kung Lao dusted off his still ink stained shirt. “Well, may the best man win.”

“This isn’t a contest, Kung Lao. We’re brothers. Always and no matter what.”

“Of course. And I’m going to win.” Kung Lao walked past him and hopped up the steps two at a time, waving him off with a laugh. Liu Kang sighed deeply and looked up at the starry night sky. That could have gone better but he supposed it also could have gone worse.

#liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat movie #liu kang/reader #kung lao/reader #kung lao x you #liu kang x you #fanfiction #fanfic #romance #angst #slow burn #mk kung lao #mk liu kang #arcana #ludi lin #max huang

108 notes · View notes

iamnmbr3 · 3 years

Text

Hm. So I really desperately want the Loki show to be good but I saw a new interview with the writer and I have to say. Some of it really concerned me.

"Taking an organisation that is so soul-crushing by-the-book, so to speak, in their managing of time and dropping the most chaotic character in all of the MCU smack-dab in the middle of that is just amazing juxtaposition".

Really? Name one prank Loki has ever pulled on screen.

The issue here is that Loki isn’t the most chaotic character in the MCU. By any stretch the imagination. This interview seems to have conflated comics!Loki and MCU!Loki, even though they are quite different characters. Even the most cursory watch of Thor 2011 and TDW should reveal that. When in the MCU has Loki’s motivation ever been about chaos or pranks??!

In Thor 2011 he was simmering with very legitimate hurt and resentment (neither of which have anything to do with chaos OR pranks!) but what ultimately drove him to action was the extremely valid fear that Thor would start a war. He used trickery not for fun but to try to delay Thor’s coronation and thus forestall violence. Things don’t go as planned, resulting in the unravelling of his life and culminating in his SUICIDE ATTEMPT at the end of the movie.

In The Avengers he is being mind controlled and forced to conquer earth. His truer self wants to escape Thanos who has been torturing him. In TDW he wants to escape the horrific prison he has been confined in, alone for all eternity and also to avenge his mother. (I think there is compelling evidence that he also is planning to die in combat because he doesn’t want to return to prison and prefers death). In Ragnarok his motivations include avoiding Thor’s rage, escaping the clutches of the Grandmaster (a terrifyingly powerful being who vastly outclasses him in terms of raw power), and protecting the Asgardian people.

Even Thor is more chaotic than Loki in the MCU. He tends to charge into things without always thinking first, and is far more mercurial. Think of how he started a war over an insult in Thor 1, or how he initially attacked the Avengers. The actual agents of chaos and wacky hijinks in the MCU tho are neither Thor nor Loki, but rather the Guardians of the Galaxy. Maybe the Loki writers watched the Guardians movies by mistake? (Pro tip: if the character speaking looks like a raccoon, it’s not Loki.

Loki stabbing Laufey according to this interview: “it was just a prank bro!”

“Loki is proper and pompous, Owen is folksy and down-to-earth – so right away, energies clash in a way that’s harmonious.”

Um??!? Ok first off. Owen Wilson = real person. Loki = fictional character. So it's weird to juxtapose them, but I’m going to assume he meant to say “Mobius.” Also ??! Loki is...neither of those things? This quote sounds like what would happen if someone who had never been to the UK or seen the Loki films looked up "what is a stereotype about British people?" and just made that Loki's character.

All the tremendous nuance and depth and complexity and pathos of Loki’s character, and what they come up with is the generic “pompous and proper”??Also, the incorrect assessments of Loki’s character aren’t even consistent. How can he be both an agent of chaos AND super prim and proper?! Those things are contradictory.

And seriously. WHEN is Loki pompous and proper? Is this referring to Loki’s speaking style? He uses the same Asgardian speaking style that Thor uses. It’s more formal in Thor 2011, Avengers, and Thor: The Dark World, and a little more casual in Ragnarok because of a change in writing style. (Though even in Ragnarok while they speak more casually they never use earth slang like “gonna” or “crap.”)

Anyone who had seen Thor 2011 would remember that THOR was the arrogant and pompous one at the beginning of the movie, and that this was meant to contrast with Loki who was very quiet and internalized and repressed. Loki’s whole origin story happened because no one listened to or respected him so he resorted to desperate measures to achieve what he believed was right (the prevention of a war!) and then had a mental breakdown due to the way circumstances unfolded.

And, yes Loki carries himself like royalty. But that’s not because he’s pompous. It’s because he IS royalty. He's literally a prince! Loki doesn’t have a high opinion of himself at all. One of his major issues is that he’s consumed by self-hatred. This again feels like they’ve conflated comics!Loki and MCU!Loki.

It’s weird that I have yet to see any of the show writers talk about even 1 aspect of Loki's character that they like or find sympathetic or interesting or emotionally compelling.

(Also. Mobius is a bureaucrat who works for a heartless organization that murders people for the slightest show of noncompliance. And he apparently doesn’t care that Loki was tortured by Thanos. That doesn’t make him “folksy” or “down-to-earth.” It makes him complicit in atrocities.)

"and my goal from day one was to tell a story of Loki that had never been told before"

This again ties back into Disney’s bizarre new positioning that this show is the first time Loki has been out of his comfort zone, which utterly ignores the fact that in his every appearance so far Loki’s story has been defined by lack of control. Loki being in the power of people who use him, lie to him, mistreat him, threaten him, gaslight him, and/or scapegoat him is hardly new. It’s what’s been happening to him in every movie.

#I really hope im wrong and they deal with his character respectfully and well. this interview in the context of the questionable trailers #has me worried...#Loki #loki tv series #Marvel #MCU #loki series #loki show #loki 2021 #do I need to tag #loki tv series negativity #?#random musings

97 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 2 years

Text

i'm gonna do the briefest of reviews for snc's previous video. and really i'm only doing it bc i like continuity lol

so here's my review for the fourth video in snc's attachment series

aka "Our Unbelievable Night at USA's Scariest Prison"

not technically related to this video, but i want snc to do the penitentiary in pa so badly. i also just want snc do a haunted video in pa or near philly in general. but that's besides the point lol

steve made a valid point in the beginning about how a prison is the perfect spot for ghost activity bc of all the negative emotions that happen there. it's like a hotbed for bad spirits to stay at or go towards.

the history of the prison is so vast and dark, it's a shame that snc barely even scratched the surface of what actually happened there. seriously tho, they could have spent like three videos just investigating and learning the history of that place.

now onto the investigation:

personally, i would love for snc to chill on the music cues and the loud bangs that they use to show shit is going off.

for some reason the guys were like extra jumpy when they were in the sugar shack. like you can literally see snc jump back like a handful of times lol

that big ass planchet was comical as hell to me sksksk

when they were in that hallway and the door or window was creaking and making that banging noise, no joke, my heart dropped into my ass lmao idk what that was about but that was hell scary

also maybe it's me but i would literally run down that hallway just to see what was making that noise like i'm not tip-toeing down

sam saying "hello" and then hyperventilating. hilarious. couldn't be more of "first person killed off in a horror movie" vibe.

side note that i just remembered while skipping thru the video: the fact that they kept fucking up how to say "aryan" was probably the weirdest/funniest thing to me. like how innocent are our boys that they don't know about the kkk??? like what lol

the possible "inhuman" spirit that was following them around, i felt like, was just trying to fuck with them. to get them upset and scared. spirits feed off of energy like that. and especially towards the end when sam starts freaking out bc he thinks he's talking to a demon or sallie or something...

highkey i loved the days of our lives bit. i felt like the video was starting to get a bit dark, and then they brought in a full costume change and song, and honestly, couldn't be happier about it

also the "dancing with sam and colby" part made me weirdly uncomfortable and i don't know why lol

i find it interesting that colby got literally nothing in his cell. it could be that his cell just doesn't have any activity. or, could it be that the spirits around were scared by his energy????

and then when they did the estes method... sam was just way too worked up. i get that they only had a bit of time left and so they had to rush it so nerves were already high, but it's one of those things were if he was calm and just relaxed for a second, he would have felt better and less nervous talking to whatever they were speaking to. personally, i don't think it was a demon. i think it was a inmate who was just fucking with him and trying to make him scared.

okay, overall, i think i said originally i would rate this video a 3/5 but after rewatching it, i'm gonna rate it a little bit lower at a 2.8/5. i know, silly change. but i just feel like this video is one i won't be coming back to. i think that had a lot of good in it, but something was off or missing the entire time. i can't think of what it is. but this video was just very meh all around.

#sam and colby #season one #sam golbach #colby brock #personal #text

7 notes · View notes

dork-empress · 3 years

Text

Singing in the Dead of Night

Damian Wayne meets a new masked persona in Gotham, and everyone has to adjust to her.

AKA I have a lot of headcanons about Lucy Quinzel and I'm making it other people's problem.

I want it up front that I haven't read these comics, just a lot of wiki pages and tiktoks. If there's a fun thing in the comics you can tell me, but this is my own version of this universe and these characters.

This is going to be the main story, but I may do some offshoots. If you want to subscribe, chapters are also posted on my Ao3 (link in my description).

“You need to take things less seriously.”

Damian looked up, looked down, and then looked back just to be sure it was really his father who asked. It was hard to tell sometimes if your superhero father had been replaced or possessed or something. “Are you serious? YOU’RE telling me that?”

“That should enforce to you how dire the situation is.” Bruce said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re still a kid,”

“I’m 15,” Damian said, then thought about his varied adventures, “Technically…”

“My point exactly,” Bruce said, turning a page on his crime reports, “You should enjoy being a kid, for a while.”

“Oh, did you enjoy being 15?” Damian said, and maybe that was a low blow, but if Bruce wasn’t ready for him to call him out he...shouldn’t have made him upset. Hmm.

Bruce looked up and stared into his soul, and Damian worried he might have stepped in it a bit. He backed up a step in case. Bruce took a deep breath, looking at him. “My childhood was stolen from me, but I at least had one. As did all the other Robins. You’re not responsible for what happened to you,but I think you could use some time. I couldn’t offer you a childhood then, and I can hardly do that now, I know, but I can do what I can.”

“And what are you doing?” Damian asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re suspended from Robin duties.”

“WHAT?!” Damian exploded, getting in his face. “What are you talking about?!”

Bruce didn’t flinch, “Until the Wayne Manor Christmas Party,” Bruce said, “I’ve called Tim and he’s willing to cover for you until then.”

“He doesn’t NEED to cover me,” Damian snarled, “I’m right here! I’m not injured, or dead, or ANYTHING I just--WHY?”

“I told you,” Bruce said, “You need to find other...hobbies, or form connections or SOMEthing. Anything other than the lifestyle. You have two months, you’ll live.”

Damian curled his fists, shaking, but had no more arguments. “You’re the WORST!” He said, and went off to his rooms.

The room was left in stony silence for a moment. Alfred came in, changing out Bruce’s cup of tea. “You don’t actually expect that to work, do you?”

“Not really, no,” Bruce said, “But he’ll be out of my hair for a little bit.”

Alfred was very dignified and so did not snort. But it was close.

Damian went out at night, saying he was off with a friend. Best to keep things vague, but if Bruce pressed, he’d say he was with Jon, and could probably bully Jon into vouching for him.

He dressed all in black, jumping from the rooftops, looking for trouble. There was usually plenty of it in Gotham. He just had to avoid the Bat Signal hanging in the sky and he’d be fine.

He heard a crash and looked down. Jewelry store robbery. Perfect.

He jumped down to ground level and approached the broken in window, taking out his sword. “Anyone in here, it’s better to surrender now,”

Of course, because it was Gotham, he wasn’t met by a normal jewel thief. No, instead, what approached him was a small walking orange balloon animal dog.

Because of course it was.

With an act first, think later attitude, he stabbed at it. He regretted it instantly as it let out some sort of opaque gas, the effects of which he didn’t want to find out. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth in hopes of preventing himself breathing too much in.

“Oh wow,” a voice said behind him, “Are you Robin?”

Damian whipped around and scowled. The gas was obscuring whoever was there, but the silhouette seemed like something of a ballerina. Why couldn’t one criminal just be normal?

He jumped back, ready to attack, but she didn’t fight him. “I’m not Robin,” he said, “I’m…” he didn’t think of another name. Ugh, this was more complicated than it needed to be.

“Huh,” she said, heading over to the display case, “This city sure has a lot of teenage ninja fighters, doesn’t it? Is ninja appropriative? Hmm, will have to think on that.”

She picked up a diamond ring from the display case and headed for the door. “Put that down!” Damian yelled at her, lifting his sword up.

“What, are you going to kill me for one ring?” She said, holding it, “Kinda overkill, don’t you think, Blackbird?”

Damian put his sword up to her, blocking the exit. “I’m not going to kill you, I’m just going to stop you,” he said, determined, but then her words sank in. “Blackbird?”

“Well, I’ve got to call you something, isn’t that how these superhero fights all go?” She stepped forward out of the fog, a girl about his age with a white painted face, lips painted into a heart, and bright orange and pink eyeshadow. “I’m Commedia, the hero of funny, the dancing clown, the laughing knight, etc etc.” she said, “im still working on my name too.”

She did a fancy twirl, getting out of range of Damian’s sword, which he countered to block her from the entrance again. “Oh, you like to dance?” she said.

“Clown, huh?” he said, staring her down, “You work for the joker?”

She laughed, high pitched and sweet, “Very much no,” she said, twirling again through the store, “Though I understand the confusion. No, Joker is...well, a joke. He’s not even registered in the clown registry.”

“There’s a clown registry?” He swung his sword.

This time, it came to a stop, with a matching jingle. He frowned, and saw it was a tambourine that the woman had lifted and stopped the sword like a shield.

He stared at the girl, Commedia, in stunned silence. She smiled brightly at him. “Well, this has been fun. But I really ought to head out. Raincheck on that dance, Blackbird.”

With a spin and a jump, she made it past him and rushed out the door, throwing a pink flower behind. A gas filled up the room in her wake, obscuring the view. Damian unfortunately got a whiff before he could block his nose, but he knew a simple fog cloud scent when he smelled it.

Damian went back into the shadows before the police inevitably arrived. It did seem below his paygrade, fighting someone who only stole a single diamond ring. But it was even stranger for that fact. A strangely dressed clown woman engaging in very strange and specific crimes in Gotham screamed “beginning of a dangerous plot.”

He wanted to go in swinging as usual, then remembered that if his father heard anything about a young person with a sword threatening police, he might catch onto the fact Damian went out that night. So, he went with the subtle approach. Breaking into the jewelry store’s records.

He was glad he did. It turned out that ring in particular had a history. It had been bought, returned, bought again, and returned once more, all by the same man, a Matthew Crenshaw. A quick records search brought up that he was a simple caller at a center. Nothing special about him. But, he was tied to the ring, and that tied him to the girl, so that was his first stop.

He tracked down the apartment to find Matthew Crenshaw in the middle of a very strange day. Damien watched through the window as Matthew lay on the floor of his meager living room, looking up at Commedia herself. She held the ring out to him, offering. “Well come on, man! Take it!”

“I don’t…” he mumbled, “Who...who are you?!”

“Just call me your fairy godmother,” she said. “Come on, you said you wanted it! So take it!”

“That’s…” Matthew said, “That’s the ring that Jenny liked...that she…”

“That you said would make the perfect proposal!” She said, dancing around, “So? Here it is! Now you can propose for real!” she said, giving it to him.

He juggled it, nearly falling over. Commedia came rushing over, jumping through the window and onto the fire escape. “Alright, hands up,” Damian urged her.

She turned, smiling. “Why, Blackbird? We going on roller coaster?” She put her hands high in the air and swung around the fire escape ladder, “Weeeeee!”

Damian followed her, pointing his sword tip at her chest. “Stop,” he said, “What are you planning?”

“Well, I’m planning to go sneak up to that window up there so I can look in and see what Matty and Jenny have going on,” She said, “Wanna join--OH!”

Damian pressed his sword up to her neck. “Cut the games,” He said, “You’re up to something, I know it. So tell me.”

Commedia sighed, giving in. “Matthew doesn’t want to get married.”

“I...what?” Damian said, confused.

“Matthew Crenshaw, the guy up there,” Commedia said, “He’s a nice guy, and he cares for his girlfriend Jenny, sure. But she’s been pressuring him about getting married, even though he doesn’t really like the idea of getting married. He’s talked himself into saying that he needs the perfect ring, but when he bought it, he decided he couldn’t afford it, and gave it back. So, I got it for him.”

Damian’s scowl only deepened as she kept talking. “Who’s he to you?”

She tilted her head, confused. “He cold called me to try and offer me a deal on car insurance.”

Damian put down the sword. He just. She said it so sincerely. “Who ARE you?” He demanded, now out of confusion more than anger.

She smiled brightly once more. “Why, I’m Commedia! The hero clown, the dancing--”

“Yeah, you said all that before, but like,” He sighed, “Why?”

Commedia’s smile fell down to something simple and kind. She offered a hand to him.

Hesitant, curious, and just...confused, he took it.

She led him to the other window, where they saw Jenny walking through the door. She gasped and ran to Matthew. “Oh, Matt! Matt, yes! Yes, I do, I do, I never thought this day would come! Oh gosh, I gotta call my mom, I’ve got a few dresses all picked out. You’ll see, it’ll be a huge party with everyone we know and-”

“Jenny,” he said, “Jenny wait, I...you know I don’t...I’m not comfortable with crowds and...and I don’t--

“But it’s MY DAY!” Jenny wailed, “You wouldn’t take MY day from me, would you?”

“C’mon,” Commedia muttered.

“Please, Jen,” Matt continued, “Look it’s just...if, if we did get married, shouldn’t--wouldn’t it be my day too?”

“Oh come ON, Matt,” Jenny said, walking to the counter, “We both know I’m the one who knows what’s best for you. It’ll be good! You’ll finally get to shine, and if you don’t like it, you’ll have ME there to take the rest of the spotlight!”

Matt’s hands balled into fists, and his face set, “No.”

“What?” Jenny said, incredulous.

“I’ve had it! I’m tired of-of you telling me what I like and what I don’t!” his lip trembled as he stood up. “I knew I was hesitant, but I didn’t know why! Now I see it’s becasue I didn’t want you in the rest of my life!”

“Hey now,” Jenny said, “Matt, calm down--”

“Get out of my house!” Matt went to the open window Commedia left behind and tossed out the ring.

“Whoopsies,” Commedia said and dropped away. Damian, confused, dropped down after her.

She picked the ring up from the ground and held it out to Damian. “I trust you can get this back to the jewelry store.”

“So, all of that…” he said, “was to help a guy get out of a bad relationship? That you barely knew?”

“He sounded sad on the phone,” Commedia said, “Made me curious.”

Damian scoffed, staring at her. “Who ARE you?”

She chuckled. “My guess is you’ll find out sooner or later,” she said, “So I’ll pick later, for now. But I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Blackbird.”

She took out another flower. This one shot off into the distance like a grappling hook, and pulled her twirling into the night.

Damian could have followed her, maybe. But, holding the ring in his hands, he didn’t see much need to.

Across town, Batman was called to a bank robbery in the middle of the night. Inside, however, he didn’t find the vault broken in, and nothing stolen, other than a number of complimentary lollipops. “You know there are easier ways to get my attention.”

“Aw, Come on Bats!” Harley said, swinging from the ceiling with one of the lollipops in her mouth, “Ain’t this a classic? Brings me back to the old days.”

“Oh, you’ve stopped doing crime then?” He said, leaning back and looking up at her, “News to me.”

Harley flipped down in front of him. “Batsy, you know I’m tryin’! I do good, is it a crime to have a little fun while I do it?”

“If you hurt people, yes.” Batman said.

Harley deflated. “I haven’t done that in a while now. I’m goin through some life changes.”

Batman hummed, staring down at her. “I’m guessing this is about the small clown that has been reported around town recently doing strange acts of minor crimes to help people?”

Harley brightened again, balancing on the teller counter. “She’s my new apprentice! A bit of a goody-two-shoes, but I’m doing my best to train her.” She did a handstand, “I came to ask for some advice at raising child soldiers, considering you have so much experience.”

Batman always scowled, but it seemed his scowl deepened on that. “I help some people come to terms with terrible things that have happened to them, and teach them to be a force of good in the world instead of falling to the world’s darkness.” He thought back on his children, “It doesn’t always work.”

Harley laughed, “No kidding,” she said. She sighed, thinking. “To be honest, Commedia is already pretty good. I can’t claim credit for that.” She rocked back and forth, feeling uneasy.

Batman approached, slow so as not to scare her. “Well, we both know she didn’t get it from her father.”

Her face was already white, but she blanched further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, “She’s my niece, she ran from home so I’m taking care of her and-”

“Harley,” Batman stopped her rambling, “I’m a detective, remember?”

She frowned, shaking at him. “He doesn’t know,” she said, “No one knows, she...she’s never met him and I don’t want her to I--”

Batman held up his hands, stopping her again. “I know,” he said, “I understand, really. And I’ll help.”

She blinked up at him, smiling. “Really?”

Batman nodded. “I’ll help you protect her. As for advice....if you ever figure out a perfect way to raise masked vigilantes, let me know. I mostly just do the best I can, and make sure they can do a proper spin-kick if they need to.”

Harley snorted. “I’ll make a note of that.” She grabbed the box of free lollies on the counter, “I am going to be robbing these though, and you can’t stop me.”

She headed for the back entrance and away. “Harley,” Batman called her again, and she froze, “The year you were gone, when you disappeared and suddenly your sister had a child she wasn’t pregnant with. I want you to know, I noticed.”

Harley smiled, turning, “Thanks Bats-” When she turned, he was gone. “And people call me a drama queen.”

#lucy quinzel #batman #damian wayne #harley quinn #batfamily #joker

21 notes · View notes

stillebesat · 4 years

Text

The Sweater

Cartoon Therapy: Emile Sanders Shorts: Remy (Sleep) Sanders Sides: Janus Blurb: Emile had said he was making a sweater for a friend. Only he neglected to tell Remy that this friend wasn’t exactly...well...human. Fic Type: General, NotQuiteHuman!AU, Kid!Janus Overall Fic Warnings: Extra Limbs, Implied Child Abandonment Taglist in Reblog

“You didn’t have to come.”

Remy flinched at the unexpected rumble from the towering man walking next to him. After three days spent with Emile, he was sure that he would have such a reaction under control sooner rather than later...so long as the dude stopped speaking up out of the blue like this that is.

Emile licked his lips, adjusting his glasses as he held the tissue wrapped package closer to his chest. “Really.”

Remy took a sip from his Starbucks cup, savoring the warmth of the hot chocolate in the chill evening air, glad that the snow had stopped falling for a glacier minute. “Gurl.” He looked up over the rims of his sunglasses and smirked, again trying to not take it to heart that this guy was a good hulking foot taller than him. “I soo did. With all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into helping you--you owe me this at least.”

It wasn’t everyday that he walked into the room reserved for teaching beginners how to be dressmakers in search of an extra spool of green thread to find this unexpectedly gentle giant awkwardly hunched over the sewing machine attempting to make….something.

He’d heard the term bull in a china shop before, but Remy had never felt the term applicable to anyone until he saw Emile. He’d been sure one wrong twitch of his dinner plate sized hands would mean bye bye sewing machine.

Of course, after getting the big guy to spill the beans and admit that he’d been trying to make a sweater for a ‘friend’ by threatening to kick him out of the sewing lab for being there outside hours; Remy had learned that just like the Mythbusters had proven, despite Emile’s wrestling sized figure, he was just as delicate as the bull in the episode had been. His large fingers were far more dexterous -if prone to being pricked by needles- than Remy had expected of the guy who could probably crush a watermelon with his bare hands.

But that didn’t mean he’d leave this amateur to his own devices. No Ma’am! Not after he’d seen the pitiful first attempt of something that could have been a sweater fit for a large teddy bear or maybe a small child, Remy had delegated himself as Emile’s pseudo teacher if only to ensure no sewing machines ended up crushed into teacups.

He needn’t have worried though. Emile had a soft touch.

The big guy bit his lip, keeping his eyes firmly straight ahead in a way that told Remy he didn’t want to make eye contact.

That was probably wise for him because Remy could pull a mean puppy dog look when he wanted to. He’d received more than his fair share of drinks on the house from it and he could and would use those eyes against Emile if he thought it would help his case.

Emile exhaled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I just--I don’t know if--if Stitch will like...well...strangers. He’s very shy.”

Stitch. Like the alien from that kids movie.

Kids movies that Emile was rather obsessed with once he opened that particular can of gummy worms though Remy was sure he was only beginning to uncover that massive iceberg of an interest. This intimidating mountain of a man had morphed into quite the giant nerdy softie when it came to him talking about his cartoons.

Maybe that was why the sweater had been comically small. Of course, getting the proper sizing for this gift from Emile had been rather...like pulling teeth. It had taken a full hour of wheedling before Emile had admitted that he was only guessing at the size he needed for this...friend.

“Sugarbee.” Remy shook his head. “If he likes you I don’t see how little--” and it galled him that he had to call himself little because he was a good five foot eleven inches thank you very much. “Old me would frighten him away.”

Emile shrugged a shoulder, fingers brushing the string on the package. “He’s just...I don’t want to scare him. I barely have any trust with him as it is and if I bring someone new--”

Remy rolled his eyes, flexing his fingers around his cooling cup. It was like the guy was talking about a feral dog and not a person. “Trust me, babes. I ain’t gonna scare him.”

The sweater on the other hand?

That was less certain.

Because it had to be the strangest one ever created.

Like Remy had seen his fair share of Ugly Sweaters over the years.

But this one would probably take the cake if only for the fact that Emile had insisted that said sweater have six arms.

After having to figure out the logistics of that particular snag, and after doing most of the sewing of those extra arms himself, there was no way Remy wasn’t seeing the reaction of this ‘Stitch’ kid to this particular present.

Maybe the dude just liked pretending to be the alien and Emile was humoring him.

Regardless, Remy wanted to make sure that said monstrosity actually fit. It was a good eighty-two percent of his work after all and he prided himself on his garments fitting perfectly.

Emile exhaled, still avoiding eye contact. “Just...stay behind me okay?”

Remy gulped the last of his hot chocolate, tossing the cup into a nearby trash can as he followed Emile around the corner into a tree filled snow covered park. “Three steps back. Got it, Princess.”

Though seriously, if Stitch wasn’t afraid of Emile, towering giant that he was, he highly doubted his presence would be an issue.

Remy shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the big guy move ahead to cut a swath through the untouched snow like a snowplow on a highway towards a huge pine tree in an out of the way corner that had branches all the way down to the ground, hiding the trunk completely from view. It was an odd spot to meet a ‘friend.’ Especially since said friend had apparently not arrived yet.

Remy exhaled, hunching his shoulders. “Looks like we’re early.” He commented, glancing around the park, seeing no one else. Which made sense. It was nearly sunset. It was cold. The sky had a dark enough overcast that he was sure it would start snowing again any second. Who in their right mind would be out right now?

“We’re not.” Emile said, glancing over his shoulder. “Remember. Stay back.” He again cautioned before he knelt, letting out a soft three pitch whistle. “Stitch?” He called softly. “Hey buddy, it’s me, Emile. I--I brought you something.”

Remy frowned, staring at the silent tree. “Did you actually have me help you make a sweater for a mutant squirrel?” That or Emile had a screw loose and he’d just spent three days making a monstrosity of a sweater for an imaginary friend. “Shh!” Emile hissed before again whistling at the tree. “Stitch? It’s okay. This is Remy. He’s a…”

Remy raised an eyebrow as Emile bit his lip, glancing back at him.

“He’s a friend, he won’t hurt you.” The big guy edged another foot closer, hand brushing the tips of the pine needles sending snow showering down off the branches. “Please come out? I--we brought you something.”

The pine tree remained silent.

Remy shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, regretting more that he’d drunk all his hot chocolate. “Maybe he’s not home.” Everyone who was anyone in their right mind would be anywhere but outside in this weather.

“Maybe you’re scaring him.” Emile snapped back before wincing. “Ah...could you like...kneel down? Please.”

Remy scoffed. Him? Scaring the imaginary friend? If Emile wasn’t scary then Remy definitely wasn’t scary either. “And freeze to death?” He asked, awkwardly crouching on his heels. His designer shoes were already feeling the damp chill of the snow working its way in to soak his socks, there was no way he would allow his knees to experience the same torment.

“Stitch?” Emile pleaded, again whistling as he edged closer. “Stitch.”

They were gonna be out here until midnight at this point. “Come on, Stitcharoo.” He said ignoring the big guy’s frantic hissing to shut up. “I’m friendly. Emile is friendly. We’re all friendily freezing here so how about you come out an--” Remy cut off as the branches rustled.

A single yellow eye peered out at them, glinting in the fading sunlight.

Okay. Imaginary friend out. Mutant feral squirrel back in.

“Meal?” A shaky voice asked. A young shaky voice.

Ooohhh Goodie. Remy pressed his lips together, fighting the way his heart had jumped into his throat. Freaking talking mutant feral squirrel. It had better be a mutant squirrel because if there was a freaking child living in this tree in the middle of a freaking snow storm--

Emile visibly sagged with relief. “Hey Stitch, buddy. You okay?”

The eye gave a slow blink. “C-c-cold.”

“Aren’t we all.” Remy muttered, glad that his sunglasses protected him from whatever baleful glare the creature was casting on him now. He gave a two fingered wave. “I’m freezing too, buckaroo.”

“Remy.”

“What?”

Emile gave him the patented Will you shut up look that would have made any mother proud.

Remy made a face. “You never said I couldn’t talk.” He was still behind him wasn’t he? He was crouching in the freaking snow freezing his toes off. He should be allowed to talk to the glowing eye that had better not be a child living in the tree in the middle of winter!

Emile exhaled, before pulling off the string on the present, unwrapping the black and yellow sweater. “Remy and I made you this, Stitch. To help with the cold.” He said, holding it out in all its six-armed glory.

A soft gasp came from the tree as the yellow eye opened wide. “Me?”

“Yah, kiddo.” Emile said, nodding. “Can I help you put it on?”

The branches shifted, the yellow eye glancing to Remy before vanishing.

Sugarbee hadn’t been kidding when he said his friend was shy.

“C-cold.” The voice whispered from somewhere within the tree. “Meal. Safe?”

Remy fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, anger burning in his chest. They’d be out here all night at this rate. “Yah, honeysuckle, you’re safe. Let Emile put the sweater on you okay? I’ll stay right here.” There was no one else in the park. Who would leave a child out here alone! One that had apparently been out here for a while if previous conversations with Emile were anything to go by.

The branches didn’t move.

Perfect.

“Stitch.” Emile whispered, slowly lowering the sweater, stretching out a hand to the branches. “Please? You’re cold, let me help you this time.”

Remy frowned again, poking Emile in the back. “This time?”

Emile flinched. “He--ah...he hasn’t actually let me...touch him? Before. This is the closest I’ve gotten.”

Oh for the love of! Remy shot to his feet. “Gurl!”

The big guy was there, a plate sized hand on his chest holding him back and radiating heat like the sun, before he could take a step. “I said he was shy.” Emile said, eyes wide and pleading. “Don’t. Scare. Him.”

Ah huh. And in the process of not scaring him they were just going to have this mysterious friend freeze to death because there would be no way a simple sweater would help the kid survive the night! Remy growled trying to move around Emile, but it was like trying to move around a mountain. “The sound of that voice tells me that’s a child, Sugarbee. A FREAKING CHILD and you’re just letting him stay here.”

“He doesn’t trust humans!”

That pulled him up short. “Humans.” Remy repeated, lowering his sunglasses. “HUMANS? Is he not human, Emile?” If this was an actual real life Stitch then--then!!

Emile had the grace to look embarrassed. “I--I---uhh--”

Remy threw up his hands. He would burn that particular bridge when he got there, But right now, he needed to see this ‘not human’ child and make sure he was safe. Remy ducked under Emile’s arm, scooping up the sweater in the process. “Hey Stitcharoo.” He said crouching at the base of the tree branches, ignoring the frantic warnings hissing like a teapot behind him as he pulled off his sunglasses, hanging them from the collar of his jacket. “It’s gonna snow again, tonight. You know. Get colder? Freeze. And my buddy here is like this giant heating blanket and wants to keep you warm. You’ll like the warm. I promise it’s--”

He froze as a child’s pale hand, nearly tinged blue, popped out of the tree, visibly shaking as it poked his cheek before jerking back out of sight.

“It’s--it’s--I uhh Hi?” Remy stuttered out, brain trying to process what had just happened as he rubbed the spot the child had touched.

Surely. Surely, he hadn’t seen what he thought he’d seen. There hadn’t been glittering scales on that hand. No. No trick of the light. Maybe it was cosmetic? Part of a costume?

The branches rustled before two hands, two scaled covered left hands, parted them, revealing a child’s face half covered in scales, peering back at him. “Hi.” The kid said, eyes -one golden, one a regular brown- shifting to Emile as he knelt down next to Remy before focusing on Remy himself. “Safe?”

“I--” Remy blinked before nodding dumbly as a third hand, a right hand with no scales on the pale skin this time, reached out to Emile’s ginormous hand.

Suddenly Emile’s insistence that there needed to be six arms made a lot more sense. If Remy had already seen three hands, surely that could mean that there were three more still hidden out of sight.

“You’re safe.” Emile said, gently taking the boy’s hand and squeezing it.

The boy bit his lip before he surged forward straight into Emile’s chest. “Wa-warm.” He whispered, multiple hands gripping onto his coat as snow from the branches above showered down on top of them.

Remy tsked, quickly shaking off the white powder, heart pounding like a drum as he took in the ragged state of the kid’s clothes, the so called ‘sweater’ he currently wore was barely worth the name, only having two proper arms and four more holes in the sides for the--for the, Gee Manetti, the kid actually had six arms!!!! as Emile pulled open his tent of a jacket to wrap around the boy.

“I got you. I got you.” Emile soothed as he scooped Stitch--Remy really hoped that wasn’t his actual name--into his lap, getting his bare feet out of the snow.

The boy visibly shivered, tucking his toes -normal human toes beyond the left set being more scaled- into the crease between Emile’s shirt and pants.

Remy bit back a growl. No shoes. Barely any clothes. Some welcome to Earth this kid got. Just because he had six freaking arms didn’t mean that the boy deserved to be abandoned! Even Superman had had a willing farm couple to look after him!

“I hope you know he is not staying here.” Remy softly scolded, moving cautiously closer. Despite his misgivings about exposing the boy to the weather, he pulled Emile’s coat away so he could get his divine gift of a sweater onto the kid, a difficult feat as Stitch had practically glued himself against Emile’s side.

The boy made a sound of protest, but didn’t fight him, eyes barely open as he watched Remy finagle the sweater over the rags he currently wore.

It was pathetic. The boy was practically skin and bones! Remy could feel each individual rib as he tugged the fabric over him for crying out loud! Not to mention the arms themselves were practically sticks! This kid had been neglected for some time. It was--it was---Remy did growl. No one should have to live like this!

“If you aren’t taking him home with you, by golly I will bring him to my place.” He said, pulling each sleeve over the boy’s ice cold hands. “Crofters! Emile, he needs another three sweaters, new pants, socks, SHOES, mittens--no no gloves. Probably gloves. This isn’t RIGHT!” The boy was COLD. His scales were like ice. How he wasn’t dead yet from hypothermia or frostbite was a mystery but No Ma’am was the kid gonna spend another night out here. “He needs soup, hot chocolate, a warm water bottle, a heated blanket a--”

“I know.”

Remy jerked his head up at Emile’s quiet words. “Well. Good.” He pulled off his coat so he could slip his own sweater over his head and use it to create some temporary pants for the kid, until he could find something better. At least the boy had two normal legs so he could stuff one into each sleeve.

“Do--” Emile cleared his throat, keeping his eyes firmly on Stitch’s hair. “Do you...have a place for him?”

Remy blinked as he slipped his own coat back on. “Do I---of course I do--do you not?!” What had he been planning to do once he got the boy to trust him? Leave him here?

Emile flushed, ducking his head.

Okay. Okay. He took a calming breath as the boy dropped two of his hands down to grab one of Remy’s in a tight grip, golden eye practically glowing as it flickered between him and Emile. “Rephrase. Do you have a place to stay yourself, Em?”

“Not one safe for him.” Came the soft response. “I...it’s barely safe for me.”

Barely safe for a guy who could feasibly dead lift a car? Punch a hole in concrete? He’d have to unpack the meaning of that particular admission some other time. Right after he had time to process that this kid had six freaking arms and was either an actual alien or escaped mutant experiment of some sort.

“Right.” Remy exhaled, running his free hand through his hair. “Right. First. We get you both back to my place. Second. Get him warm and fed.” Maybe to a doctor--did he even know any doctors who could handle this?! “Third. Figure out living arrangements. Capiche?” Oh and Fourth. Figure out the boy’s actual name or give him a cooler one because no way would he be continuing to call him Stitch.

That was a simple enough list right? Just four things. Nothing complicated about that.

Emile blinked, adjusting his glasses. “But you don’t know me.”

Remy scoffed, squeezing the boy’s hands. Sure three days haraunanging the guy on how to properly thread a bobbin wasn’t a normal way to invite someone to be your roommate, but it wasn’t the worst way either. “I don’t know the kid either, Em. But I do know that he needs a home and if you need one too then you’ve got one with me.” The dude had a good heart. He’d been attempting to make a sweater instead of buying one and poking holes in it for crying out loud.

“I--uh--” Emile cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” At least not until he got them all out of the cold. Then they could talk.

The kid shivered again, tightening his grip on their hands. “Safe?” He whispered, resting his head against Emile’s chest, eyes flickering between them both.

Safe? There was no question about it. Not with another snowstorm coming. Not when Remy desperately itched to pull out all his extra fabric from his sewing closet to throw onto the kid just to give him a proper, better fitting outfit. “Of course, honeysuckle.” He said, pulling the tent of a coat that Emile wore back over the boy to protect him from the cold. “We’ll keep you safe.” He looked up, meeting Emile’s eyes, smirking as he found acceptance there. “We promise.”

#The Sweater #stillebesat #Emile Picani #Remy #Sleep #Janus #Deceit #extra limbs tw #child abandonment tw #Kid!Janus #Kid!Deceit #Stitch #Cartoon Therapy #Sanders Shorts #Sanders Sides #Sweater Verse

303 notes · View notes

smellycinnamonthundahfudge · 3 years

Text

Sgt. Drew Wu of Grimm

(Asians Assemble Challenge PT. 1 \(^o^)/, link for PT.2)

Grimm - it's a really cool dark epic fantasy detective show with awesome lore and an awesome lovable cast. ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT OF WHICH (for me at least heh :') is SGT. DREW WU <3.

i love him cause he's the snarky jaded lil shit who's kinda just above it all and just, ykno, the logical smart brain cell one that goes "seriously?" pointing out the ridiculousness of this fantastically dark world hahahah. AND IDK. HE'S JUST SUCH A SNARKY LIL SHT AND I LOVE HIM TOOOOOTTTT.

he also has his own arc, since he's one of the novice/normie human characters to the fantasy world. so there's this whole arc of him finding out the truth after all that he's mindfucked/gaslighted into thinking whether any of it was real.

so, like i said, capable seargeant detective, investigating THE TRUTH on the trail, AND I JUST LOVE HOW SMART AND INTELLIGENT AND CAPABLE HE IS PORTRAYED.

HE HAS AN ENTIRE EPISODE DEDICATED TO HIS CULTURE (AND A MONSTER FROM IT, OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY since it's my culture too, so yeah... i'd know, & now u kno y he's special to me :''')

AND MY FAMILY AND I LITERALLY LOST OUR SHIT WHEN HE SPOKE FILIPINO SO FLUENTLY TOOOOT.

it could have gone rlly wrong, but it didn't. they consulted him, the actor, reggie lee, listened to him. and as a result, they gave his character depth that i loved since the episode was SO CENTERED on what WU cared about.

it's just really heartwarming when instead of what you know could come out really clumsy and offensive and wrong,

you get something that feels close to home and makes you feel seen <3.

wu felt like another guy pining over his totga/childhood friend, except this time, we get to see an asian guy do it

instead of the usual white picket fence girl & boy next door.

it was just really unexpected and heartwarming to know how much mr. lee contributed to the episode, the fact that the showrunners really listened and treated it well & respectfully...

they cared enough to ask, consider the asian actor's perspective, and listen. and as a result, they got to explore a bit of the monsters of the dark of the philippines that aren't like anything else in the cultures/lore they've explored in the show before.

that's what sticks to me.

when you actually pay attention and care about the asians in your predominantly white media, you get to discover and open yourself up to a whole other world and culture that is unlike anything you know.

the asians get to be more than the brown side character, and become actual people that feel like someone you'd know...

this is the importance that comes from just the small act of ASKING the actor, "does this feel right to you?" or "what do YOU think?"

and WHOO HEY CHECK OUT THAT SEGUE MOM HAHAHAH

guess what the asian creatives, THE ASIAN DIRECTOR DID ON SHANG-CHI?

YEP, YA GUESSED IT, HE CONSULTED THE CREW, THE DIFFERENT PEOPLE OF DIFFERING CULTURES ON SET, ALL CONTRIBUTING THEIR OWN PERSPECTIVE.

BECAUSE NOT ALL ASIANS ARE THE SAME, SO THEY WOULD ALL HAVE THEIR OWN INDIVIDUAL UNIQUE TAKE ON THE SAME MEDIA.

Cretton says he wanted to tell a story about Asian identity that felt as lived-in and authentic as possible — part of which involved making sure Shang-Chi had Asian voices both in front of and behind the camera. (source: x)

"Remember, the Asian culture is so diverse," he says. "I grew up in Hawaii, [and] Hawaiian food is like Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Hawaiian, Filipino, all mixed together. That is kind of what our crew was: It's like this big mix of Asian cultures coming together and responding to the script and [saying things] like, 'Oh, that doesn't feel quite right.' All of that helped contribute to what I think is a really beautiful update to what started in the comics a few decades ago."

so... that's what i love about sgt. drew wu from grimm... :'')

the first time i heard someone speak my language in a tv show i loved :''') <333

and how what happened with his character reminds me of how far we've come with shang-chi :')

now it isn't just white showrunners asking the one asian dude what he thinks

now it's an asian director asking his several different asian creatives what they think...

also, he changed his name cause he kept getting called into casting latino roles, and ahh

i just... i spent a bit trying to track it down but i couldn't.

but there's this great meme that used a family guy scene, how filipinos have english first names and spanish last names, and so there's like a hybrid creature and peter's yelling "what the hell is that?!"

and hahahah aahhh

okokok my point is that being a filipino is a very specific type of asian that has a lot of overlap and that being an asian with an english first name and spanish last is only the tip of it,

but i just... i felt seen with what mr. lee went thru.

how, he had a spanish last name but he wasn't hispanic.

he's asian but he's not the "popular typical asian" that most ppl think when they think of asians.

ALSO, WU HAS A BURGER MADE IN HIS HONOR IN PORTLAND (i think) WHERE THE SERIES IS SET AND SHOT

AND IT IS *MY DREAAAMMM* TO BE ABLE TO EAT THAT BURGER SOMEDAY.

#drew wu #asians assemble #asians #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #shang chi and the ten rings #shang chi #<3 #grimm #asians in tv #reggie lee #<3333 #love #uwu <3 #art #asian culture #filipino #<33333

17 notes · View notes

turtle-paced · 3 years

Text

A:tLA Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

First two-part episode of the series, and a very important one for the structure of the series going forwards too!

Book 1, Chapter 7 - The Spirit World (Winter Solstice, Part 1)

(0:55) Previously, on Avatar, Aang realised he was ready to hear whatever it was his previous incarnation Roku had to say to him. Katara lost her necklace and Zuko picked it up. Aang’s duty is to restore balance to the world by defeating Ozai, who got tipped off to Aang’s re-emergence by his own spiritual authorities.

(2:05) Airbenders think differently about heights. When Sokka suggests Katara jump off Appa and check out the fluffy clouds below them, she scoffs - but Aang gleefully says he’ll give it a go and launches himself into the air.

(2:17) Aang reports that clouds are made of water. The party will remember this.

(2:31) In this pre-flight era, where there are very few airbenders, the party has an unusual view of the devastation the Fire Nation has caused to the natural environment of the Earth Kingdom right from the beginning of their journey. As Sokka says, it’s like a scar. Attention to detail strikes again - the devastation is on one side of the river, which clearly halted some of the fire’s progress.

(2:37) When the group lands to check it out, the blackened area of the forest is more a burned-out area of the forest. There’s no wildlife around. Katara and Sokka’s differing concerns show up again. Katara checks in on a very upset Aang, while Sokka looks around for the causes of the fire (the Fire Nation).

(2:59) Aang with the heavy questions. “Why would anyone do this? How could I let this happen?” There aren’t any answers yet. Aang knows the world has changed, but he doesn’t understand how (and won’t until well into season three). As for ‘how could I let this happen?’, that requires some self-reflection. When Aang decided to run away the first time, he didn’t have the faintest idea that this, or this sort of thing, would be the outcome. The important thing here is his realisation that he doesn’t know how to be the Avatar.

(3:16) Aang draws a distinction between learning the styles of bending and learning his job. This shows us that Aang thinks of being the Avatar as more than the cool powers. He’s very much aware that being the Avatar comes with responsibilities he’s currently not at all prepared to handle.

(3:35) Fittingly, Zuko makes his re-entrance by wandering into a scene shouting for people (in this case, Iroh) to go places and do things.

(3:47) Once again Iroh advises Zuko to slow down, rest, and maybe practice some self-care. Alas, Zuko’s troubles cannot be soaked away.

(4:10) I think this might be the first time we’ve seen a variation on Iroh’s breath of fire, exhaling steam through his nose to heat the water.

(4:16) And another instance of Iroh refusing to let Zuko bully him, with a bit of malicious compliance. Zuko wants Iroh to leave the springs now? Okay! What, it was hardly as if Iroh was going to get in the water fully clothed. It’s saying no to Zuko and giving him some self-inflicted consequences of his own poor behaviour, without hurting him.

(4:30) “Are you ready to be cheered up?” Seriously, love Katara. This implies some time passing between the end of the last scene and the start of this one, in which she’s backed off to let Aang work through his emotions on his own. But she’s also not going to let Aang wallow in his problems, and she’s used the time to find something that might help Aang feel better about the problem at hand. She’s proactively dealing with the emotional issues here.

(4:47) What Katara found is acorns. Katara’s not just sitting back and saying “I have hope”, she’s going out and finding things that give her hope, and then sharing them. (And important for her to do, in an episode where she doesn’t have much of a role.) It’s also an important reminder for the group and the viewer - despite the destruction, things can regrow.

(5:11) Yet another person who sees airbending tattoos and thinks ‘aha! This must be the Avatar! Definitely not a descendant of surviving airbenders!’ It’s phrased as “are you the Avatar?”, which leads to an understated exchange between Aang and Katara where Aang looks to her, she nods, and Aang nods at the elder in an affirmative. The message between them being that it’s okay for Aang to call himself the Avatar even though he feels like he’s failed.

(5:22) Shot of another Earth Kingdom village. Those walls. No matter how small the village is, they have walls. Because it’s easy for earthbenders to make them. There has, however, been a recent fire. Several houses are burned.

(5:37) Rumours of the Avatar’s return have reached this tiny village who-knows-where in the Earth Kingdom.

(5:58) The problem the villagers are seeking help with is not the Fire Nation, however. It’s a spirit monster, Hei Bai. Up till now, the protagonists have been dealing with wartime dangers (and Bumi). This brings in one of the more solidly fantasy elements of the story. The spirit has been taking people from the village for the last few nights.

(6:20) It’s established here that the solstices are significant dates, as the natural world and the spirit world are closest at these points.

(7:08) This is one of those places where Aang is completely unequipped to handle Avatar duties. He knows next to nothing about the spirit world. This also lets the audience learn along with Aang.

(7:16) When Katara asks if Aang can help, Aang says, “I have to try, don’t I? Maybe whatever I have to do will just come to me!” Aang’s good points and bad points in a single line. Not helping doesn’t even occur to him, to the point where he sees helping others as his obligation. But there’s not much proactivity on a personal level there either, his first instinct being to hope that the solution will come to him, rather than ‘let’s go out and find this solution’.

(7:25) Love Sokka, too. “Yeah…we’re all gonna get eaten by a spirit monster.”

(8:04) It’s an important thing to remember about Iroh - he’s clever and he’s powerful, but he’s not infallible. As we see here when he’s effectively ambushed. Note how unconcerned he is about missing Zuko’s deadline, by the way.

(8:15) The incident gives the writers a chance to reiterate Iroh’s background. Fire Lord’s brother, famous general. It also gives us a title for him: “The Dragon of the West.” Iroh being captured here and addressed by a title additional to whatever he might have by virtue of being related to the Fire Lord shows us his Earth Kingdom notoriety.

(8:35) This is half-comical given Aang’s actual words, but the music and his solitude on the streets of the village are a reminder that Aang, who is not yet thirteen and who doesn’t know the spirit world ins and outs of his job, is heading out alone to confront a spirit who’s been attacking a village.

(8:44) Sokka is the first to object to letting Aang do this alone. This shows us something about Sokka’s relationship with Aang. We’ve seen Sokka reluctant to help strangers - just last episode, in fact - and we’ve also seen Sokka willing to face down an entire warship by himself to help his community. He hasn’t said it like Katara has, but Sokka’s actions show that he’s come to consider Aang as part of his family.

(9:21) Hei Bai appears and definitely fits the description of ‘spirit monster’.

(9:37) While I’m appreciating characters, love Aang, whose first reaction to a giant and quite possibly hostile spirit monster towering over him is to smile, bow, and politely introduce himself.

(9:47) Of course, the flaw in Aang’s approach is shown when his words do nothing. Hei Bai, enraged by the destruction of their forest by humans, starts rampaging around the nearest human settlement. Aang continues to try and talk even while Hei Bai is smashing buildings. We know that Aang’s pretty adaptable; he just doesn’t want to switch tactics to violence. Admirable, but not always effective, and Aang is slow to recognise and engage with situations where he has to fight.

(10:37) Sokka charges out to fight Hei Bai while Katara hangs back. On Katara’s part, I wonder if this is partially her not trusting her own ability to help in a fight.

(10:55) Aang’s just in the middle of saying “I don’t want to fight [Hei Bai] unless I have to” when Sokka gets snatched.

(11:09) It’s nighttime, and Zuko’s out looking for his uncle. Seems he didn’t leave after ten minutes, in the end. All bark and not a whole lot of bite.

(11:16) When a soldier suggests that perhaps Iroh left, under the impression that Zuko would have left, Zuko doesn’t even consider it. Even if Zuko takes it a bit for granted at this point, this relationship is so important to his character development. Zuko’s father hates him. Zuko’s mother loved him, but also left him, and he’s not privy to her reasons for going. And Zuko can still trust absolutely that Iroh loves him and wouldn’t willingly leave. He just doesn’t think about the implications for another season and a half.

(11:22) Zuko also using his brain here as he spots the reverse landslide. Another important thing to show, given that so much of Zuko’s arc involves him dealing with some realisations that are immediately obvious to the viewer. (He’s on the wrong side of the war, his dad’s a piece of shit, things like that.)

(11:37) Seriously skilful flying from Aang - he’s moving fast, through a forest, after sunset.

(12:00) Sokka gets taken into the spirit world, and Aang crash lands in front of Hei Bai’s shrine.

(12:11) Aang wakes up, and the animators do the heavy lifting in partially concealing how Aang’s been taken to the spirit world (or has partially shifted to that plane? The mechanics are unclear). The orange and yellow of Aang’s clothes are washed out in the nighttime scene, further than they were in the twilight scene immediately before the commercial break cut.

In character terms, Aang is struggling hard with feelings of failure. This is even worse because they’re justified feelings of failure and important things he’s failed at. It’s not fair he has the responsibilities, it’s true he’s a kid. There are mitigating factors here. But having tried and failed to stop the damage to the village and rescue Sokka, Aang’s feelings are valid, and deeper than can be resolved in just the one episode. This goes hand in hand with Aang’s knowledge of his responsibilities as the Avatar. He’s well aware of the expectations and where he falls short. We’ll be coming back to Aang’s self-blame and good/bad responses to failure in future episodes.

(12:23) In this establishing shot of the Earth Kingdom soldiers escorting Iroh, note that they’re barefoot.

(12:32) “We’re taking you to face justice.” Another important thing to remember with Iroh. He spent most of his career trying to conquer the Earth Kingdom. With the exception of the one flashback, the viewer sees the kindly old man who’s trying to help his nephew and, later, free the Earth Kingdom. Not everyone in-universe shares this perspective.

(12:44) As we get from the soldiers continuing to helpfully exposit. First mention of Ba Sing Se, here, and the great siege of the backstory.

(12:59) “After six hundred days away from home, my men were tired and I was tired, and I’m still tired.” With what we later learn about Lu Ten, it very much appears to me that Iroh says ‘tired’ but means ‘grieving’, and this line is a G-rated indication that there were a lot of deaths during this particular siege.

Oh, and also it’s a good lead-in to his ruse. Just as Zuko trusts that Iroh wouldn’t up and ditch him, Iroh trusts that Zuko will be looking for him.

(13:32) Gotta feel so bad for Katara, here. Aside from her own backstory of dead and absent parents, she’s just watched her brother and her best friend vanish in a fight with a spirit, leaving her alone in a foreign country.

(13:38) Katara’s holding on to Sokka’s boomerang.

(13:49) As the sun rises, it’s now clear that Aang’s clothes aren’t just washed out, he’s entirely blue-shaded. With his inability to interact with Katara and the elder, not to mention being translucent, the penny drops and Aang realises he’s in the spirit world.

(14:20) Voice acting! It’s just the one line, but on his own, Zuko is a lot less growly and shouty.

(15:06) After a low-key miserable scene of Aang, Katara, and Appa being utterly unable to comfort each other, Aang shouts at the sky that he needs to talk to Avatar Roku.

(15:17) The introduction of the no-bending-in-the-spirit-world rule.

(15:32) We get a good look at the mysterious light chasing Aang. It’s a dragon (Fang). This is quickly followed by our first look at Roku.

(16:28) Interestingly, Iroh is able to see Aang even when he’s travelling in the spirit world. Much like other things in Iroh’s backstory, this is never fully explained.

(16:44) Iroh might have left his sandal behind in faith that Zuko would be following, but he’s still going to attempt to free himself with some quality briar-patching. Of course his captors are willing to chain him tighter.

(17:06) Here we see Iroh heat his cuffs red-hot the same way he heated the springs he was bathing in. He’s showing us combat application of what he was trying to teach Zuko in the first episode - firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles. So he can still firebend effectively when he’s chained up and unable to use his muscles to their fullest extent. I feel pretty bad for this corporal, whose entire palm and fingers were pressed to red-hot metal for a few seconds. If anything, he’s not screaming enough. Iroh follows that up by startling the soldiers’ ostrich-horses and making a break for it, rather than attempting anything more lethal.

(17:18) Aang and Fang approach a volcanic island and a temple. The temple is five storeys. A lot of stonework and tiling, a lot of gold.

(17:40) So while we’re looking at this heavily gilded statue, I just want to raise one question - who ordered this temple built? Or, at the very least, who commissioned this statue of Roku, the dimensions of which must have been calculated with the uppermost room in mind?

Think about it. Roku was a known opponent of Fire Nation expansionism. Would the Fire Sages spend this much money or place a very expensive statue of the Fire Lord’s political opponent in a temple without the Fire Lord’s okay? As we’ll see in future episodes, they’re pretty involved with the state. Could Roku’s surviving family afford this? Would Azulon or Ozai fork out the cash? I also note that the statue is an accurate depiction of Roku in his latter years, so aside from this being done by a skilled artisan (and hence a $$$ artisan), someone who knew Roku well was involved in the design phase.

I think this temple might be a product of Sozin’s guilty conscience. I don’t think this conclusion was intended, but the show’s later depiction of Roku and Sozin’s relationship makes it an appealing post-hoc explanation.

(17:47) Fang spiritually transfers a bit more knowledge. In this case, Sozin’s Comet, bereft of context. It’s clearly bad, though!

(18:00) Bringing back the point about the solstice from earlier, we see a spot of sunlight approaching the face of the Roku statue. Fits with the exposition!

(18:50) Iroh is quickly recaptured, because he’s one chained-up guy trying to escape over dirt without killing anyone (let’s be real, Iroh could easily kill these guys), being followed by three earthbenders.

(19:07) Katara goes out looking for Aang and Sokka. Mostly, this is an excuse for -

(19:16) - Zuko to spot Appa. He knows that means the Avatar. But Appa’s flying one way, the tracks of the ostrich-horses are leading another, and Zuko has to choose.

(20:18) This week in “it’s really freaking hard to humanely contain benders”, the Earth Kingdom soldiers decide to crush Iroh’s hands. Given that Iroh barely used his hands and that the most significant injury he caused in that escape attempt was to someone’s hands...I’m thinking this is more retaliatory than anything.

(20:25) Zuko arrives to save the day, having chosen his love for his uncle over his quest (and, implictly, over his love for his father). It makes it easier to support Zuko and Iroh in this fight, especially after the hand-crushing thing. Unfortunately, as Azula will prove in season two, this isn’t a one-and-done decision.

Also, off to the right - is that a female Earth Kingdom soldier? I think it might be! The show is welcome to continue proving me wrong about female earthbenders in the background! (I mean, they’re still a tiny and voiceless minority, but there are more than I thought!)

(20:42) “You are clearly outnumbered!” “Ah, that’s true…but you are clearly outmatched.” Damn that’s a line. Especially since the fight bears that out. Iroh doesn’t even firebend, instead using his chains.

In one particularly noticeable shot, he uses the chains to redirect the momentum of a rock flying towards him. From what we’ve seen of Zuko and Zhao, this isn’t a technique firebenders use much. Even before we’re told Iroh learned from watching waterbenders, we’re shown that Iroh learned from watching waterbenders. This series knows how to do fight scenes - not just how to make them tense, but how to make them show character.

(21:23) After failing the previous evening, Aang is trying again. Good on him.

(22:07) Aang touches Hei Bai and learns/confirms that Hei Bai is the spirit of the forest, and says that now he understands. Hei Bai is angry because his home was burned down. So the war can have effects on the spirit world as well. It’s a two-way relationship.

(22:22) Aang offers Hei Bai an acorn. Hei Bai accepts it, and is appeased. So in the end, Aang didn’t have to fight after all. He could resolve the situation using his words. But that was only possible after he understood what was going on, and only after he had some real help to offer. The series is anti-war, but it doesn’t treat talking as a magical cure-all to conflict.

(22:58) “If only there were a way we could repay you for what you’ve done.” “You could give us some supplies and some money.” Ah, practicality. But again the sort of thing that helps to explain how the group are getting by day to day.

(23:24) We leave off with the hook for next episode, part two. Contacting Roku has to be done ASAP, but they have to go to the Fire Nation to do it. Sounds dangerous!

#a:tla #cw: violence #fine toothed comb edition

44 notes · View notes

silverfootstepswrites · 3 years

Text

Eden: ZERO

ZERO (here) / BLEACH / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE / RED

Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it. - Haruki Murakami

+++

“You’re doing it wrong, you know.”

Those were the first words Madara had ever spoken to her. Arms crossed across his chest, over his half-buttoned shirt. Staring down at her with those arrogant eyes glinting bright red.

“Then show me how to do it,” she retorted. Unaware of how dangerous those words were.

A harsh wind swept through. Sakura squinted her eyes shut against the hair that blew into her face. When she opened them, the man stood just in front of her. Grinning with too-sharp teeth as he leaned over her. Those luminous eyes widened as he took in the golden light sputtering between her palms.

“What are you? 12? Don’t even know how to do basic channeling?” he asked, eyes darting back up to her face.

“8,” Sakura corrected him.

“Ah. Shit. Seriously?” His expression shifted. The furrow in his brows deepening as he squinted down at the magic twinkling and then dwindling in her hands. Thumb on his chin, he leaned in a little closer to the sparks.

“Are you channeling through your solar plexus or your heart?” he demanded.

Sakura made a face. “My what?”

He sighed.

“Take a deep breath, through your nose. Like this.” And he demonstrated. Inhaling through his nostrils. He exhaled long and fast through his mouth. “When you breathe out, feel your abdomen move. Right here.” He touched his stomach.

Sakura watched him do it once more before she tried it herself. Breathing in deep through her nose. Exhaling through her lips.

“Now try channeling your magic through that part of your stomach you just felt,” he instructed.

Her eyes closed as she followed the steps. She gathered her breath, willing her strength into her palms as she exhaled. The golden sparks appeared again, but this time, they spilled from her palms, down her arms. They showered her clothes and the ground with bright lights before winking out of existence.

“I did it!” Sakura exclaimed. And when she lifted her chin to thank him, the man was gone.

++++

The world overflowed with magic. It clung to blades of grass and wafted off the smoke rising from chimneys. It lingered in the alleyways, mingling with the smells of food from all around the world. A melting pot of pastelitos, General Tso’s and doner kebab all in one.

Anyone who couldn’t perform magic bought it. And the more complex the magic, the more valuable it was. Simple levitation charms and giggle potions could be purchased in the same vending machines that sold soda. People walked out of salons with hair that changed color in the sunlight. Sleepy janitors on the night shift could twist a finger and let the mop work by itself as they took a quick nap.

The city of Konoha was as old as it was busy. It wasn’t where Sakura had been born, but it was where she was now.

She lived in one of the dorms at the Senju Institute. Many of the students there were children of non-magical parents and trained them to wield their powers. This program was, in essence, an orphanage, but no one liked to say that out loud.

There were many things to be grateful for. The Senju Institute fed her and kept a roof over her head. None of the teachers or fellow students were ever unkind to her. But a label seemed to hang over her head everywhere she went.

This girl can’t wield magic.

No matter how much she studied, how much she practiced, she couldn’t understand the lessons from the instructors. Who told her, “Follow your instincts” and “feel the energy”. Which meant absolutely nothing to her. Besides that odd encounter in the library, Sakura had never managed to properly channel magic before. And as her classmates learned to conjure light and summon orbs of water, Sakura found herself falling farther and farther behind.

Tutoring sessions with the teachers did nothing. So while Sakura struggled with the application, she threw herself into reading up on the theory. Because maybe there would be an answer in one of those big, dusty books in the library about what made her defective.

If anyone wanted to know how to do magic, Sakura could recite it without a thought. The irony was comical, in some ways. Although, Sakura didn’t find it very funny at all.

++++

“You can’t just show up whenever you want,” Tobirama griped, not for the first time, as he watched Madara peruse the shelves of the school library.

“Relax. Your brother said it was okay. Isn’t he in charge?” Madara said.

“Yeah. But I’m also in charge. And I hate you,” retorted Tobirama. Madara snorted. And then he found his eyes drifting past the shelf. Past the balustrade. Downstairs, he glimpsed a little girl sitting alone at one of the long tables. Her nose buried in a huge textbook.

“That girl,” Madara mused. And Tobirama turned to follow his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Ah. Sakura? Good kid. I feel bad for her,” he replied.

“Bad? Why?” Madara’s eyebrows rose.

Tobirama paused. He peeked over at the girl to make sure she hadn’t heard them before he leaned in a little closer.

“She seems to have the spark, but she can’t channel magic. Her pathways must be dead or blocked,” Tobirama whispered, hand covering his mouth. Madara’s mouth twisted, eyebrows rising.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

It was Tobirama’s turn to look surprised as he watched Madara cup his hands around his mouth.

“Hey! Kid!”

The girl’s head jerked up. Her eyes widened.

“You still remember this?” Madara asked. He held out his palm. Gold sparks flooded his palm, overflowing. Spilling over the railing. Down to the floor below. The girl nodded. She held up both her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip.

“Feel where your breath is. Push the magic through there,” he reminded her.

Slowly, flecks of gold gathered at the tips of her fingers.

“Exhale. Push through your stomach.”

Gold welled up in her hands. And then it began spilling endlessly, bouncing across the tile.

Madara turned to Tobirama with a smirk. “You know, Tobirama, sometimes telling people to just feel magic doesn’t work,” he rubbed it in. But Tobirama didn’t even see the expression as he hurried down the stairs to examine the magic. Sakura looked from Tobirama, up to Madara. Her face gold as the light from her magic bathed her expression.

Madara raised his eyebrows at her as he descended the stairs.

“Hey. Try this,” he urged. And then he closed his fingers around the sparks. They spurted between his fingers before they began to lump together. Burning red hot, thrumming with energy. When he opened his hand, a smooth black stone glistened in his palm.

Tobirama sighed. “Come on, Madara. Even senior level students struggle with transmutation.”

The girl’s forehead wrinkled. She grabbed Madara’s hand, jerking it down to eye level. She scowled at the shimmering rock.

“How do I do that?” she demanded.

“Make the sparks. Breathe,” instructed Madara, snatching the orb away.

She took a step back. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she summoned the golden sparks to her hands once more.

“Now. Kid. The magic is moving quickly because all the molecules are moving fast,” Madara explained. He pointed at the sparks. She stared. “They’re all vibrating. Bumping into each other. All because it’s so hot.”

“It doesn’t feel hot,” she protested.

Tobirama sighed again, shaking his head.

Madara shot him a dirty look before he looked down at Sakura again. “Well, you’re not wrong, kid. I’ll get into that stuff later. For now, just believe me. It’s hot for the magic, alright?”

The girl continued to frown, but she slowly nodded.

“Then make the magic stop moving so fast,” he explained.

She blinked a few times. Then lifted her chin to look up at him. “So... tell the magic to cool down?”

He thought for a moment. And then Madara smirked. Hand on his hip, he nodded.

“Yeah, kid.”

She stared directly into the sparks. She sucked in another breath. And then she began to close her fingers, just as Madara had. As she moved her hands, she whispered to the sparks: “Cool.... it’s time to be cool. It’s not hot anymore. It’s nice and cool. Slow…”

Tobirama’s eyes bulged as the sparks slowly darkened. The magic began to swirl together in her palms, rippling back and forth with each of her breaths. Then, slowly, it gathered into a solid shape in her cupped hands.

“Show me what you got, kid,” Madara instructed.

As the girl opened her hands, the object between her fingers slipped out. Madara’s hand flicked. It rose in the air, sparkling as it rotated. It was a crystal with a pointed tip. Purple, green, and blue swirled together in layers, gleaming as light bounced off the surface.

“Huh. Fluorite. Good quality too,” he commented. When he flexed his fingers, the crystal began to spin in the opposite direction. But when he glanced at the girl, he saw that her eyes glittered even more brightly than the crystal she had created.

“I did that?” she whispered.

“Yeah. Impressive for your first try,” Madara replied. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the crystal flying over to her. She held both her hands out. It fell into her waiting grasp.

Smug, Madara turned toward Tobirama.

“See? Kid can do magic just fine. Pretty gifted, honestly,” he rubbed it in. Relishing the way Tobirama glared at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tobirama ground out.

“Can you teach me from now on? You’re a good teacher,” Sakura spoke up. Still clutching the crystal she had created.

Tobirama and Madara both looked down at her. Her eyes gleamed. Rubbing his chin, Madara considered this.

“Tell you what, kid. I’ll do you one better.” Madara grinned.

“Madara, no,” Tobirama was already protesting.

“You ever had your own room before, kid?” asked Madara, hand on his hip.

It had taken some persuading. As a student of the Senju Institute, Sakura was technically in the care of the school itself. Plus, Hashirama, its headmaster, wasn’t keen on the idea of just… giving a student away.

Madara, however, was not above playing dirty. When he began rattling off a list of all the ways both brothers owed him, Hashirama finally caved.

Madara would take custody of Sakura. He would instruct her on the fundamentals of magic. When Sakura was old enough, and had developed enough of her skills, she would resume her studies at the institute.

As Madara watched her pack up her things, he looked around the narrow room she shared with one other girl. Her roommate had some photos taped over her desk. There were a few posters on her side of the room. A picture frame sat on her nightstand. All Sakura had were her books, along with a blue vase filled with fake flowers. The books she scooped up into her arms and dropped into her suitcase. She didn’t move to take the vase.

“Ready to go?” he asked as she set the suitcase on the ground. The things inside rattled around. Half-hollow. Half-filled.

Sakura nodded.

Madara’s home sat halfway across the city from the Senju Institute. The inside of his car was old-fashioned, but it was clean. The worn leather seats gleamed. He drove with the windows down, his hair whipping back in the wind.

“So… what do you do?” she asked.

Madara pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. His lips twisted to one side.

“I dabble. Been going by ‘arcanist’ for a while now,” he replied. When Sakura continued to stare, he laughed a little, teeth glinting. “I research magic and how to put it inside things. I also come up with spells to use magic differently.”

“Do I have to call you ‘dad’?” she then asked.

Madara wrinkled his nose. He waved a hand, as if shooing the title away from him.

“Nah. I’m Madara. You can call me that. Or ‘teacher’. Whatever. Just don’t say ‘old man’,” he answered.

Madara’s home didn’t look like much from the outside. But inside, it was filled with books, spell ingredients, and whatever other clutter he had gathered over the years. Candles bobbed in the foyer. Shoes floated into a closet as soon as they were off the feet. The welcome mat shifted colors whenever someone stepped over it.

It was also much too big.

Sakura’s jaw dropped the first time she stepped inside. She backtracked onto the front steps. Stared up at the narrow apartment. Then stepped inside again, staring at how tall the ceilings were.

“Extension magic,” Madara chuckled as he watched her dumbfounded expression.

The next few days were a blur of learning the house’s layout and trying to absorb all the information Madara threw at her.

“There’s no real schedule. Eat when you like. We can do your lessons in the afternoon, so you can sleep in,” he said as he poured himself a glass of wine.

“What about school?” she asked.

“I am your school. There’s nothing at those ridiculous schools that I can’t teach you better at home,” Madara scoffed.

“What about math? Or reading and writing?”

Madara heaved a sigh.

“Kid. I got it,” he assured her.

Despite his attitude, Madara was a proper teacher. He waited for her to understand before he asked her to do. Whenever she asked for him to explain again, he did so. The technicality of Madara’s casting made a lot of sense to Sakura.

“Not like that. Spread your fingers. You need to leave space for the magic to gather,” he explained as he nudged her hands. He stood with his feet shoulders width apart. As Sakura adjusted, he pointed down at his feet. She inched her feet closer together until he nodded.

“Now. Let’s try again. Remember, you need to break the bonds and remake them,” Madara reminded her. He waited for her to nod before he took a deep, slow breath. Sakura copied him, feeling the heat gather in her fingertips.

Madara never made her feel like she had when she had stayed at the Senju Institute. Deficient. Slow. Somehow less than the others who ran around with their hands shooting sparks in every direction.

The Senju school of magic focused on drawing upon emotions and imagination. And while their magic was strong, it was also volatile and ran the risk of turning destructive.

The Uchiha family’s knowledge of magic emphasized understanding the science of magic. What created it? How could it be channeled optimally? They were the ones who had discovered that wooden wands and staves are actually a poor conductor of magic. The discovery had led to the development of new casting tools that had filled up the family’s accounts faster than the banks knew how to handle.

As Sakura spent more time with Madara, the more she realized that magic wasn’t just about the spells. It was woven into the very fabric of reality. It changed the structure of objects and bent light. All she had to do was tug on a few strings to set things into motion.

“Water and fire are kind of alike, actually,” Madara said. He held his hand out, palm up. His palm seemed to glow for a moment before a flame flickered to life just above it.

And with just a little more effort, he changed the fire into water. The droplets danced together before he crushed them in his palm.

“Why?” Sakura asked.

“It’s all about the energy of the matter. If you change the energy, you can change the state of things.”

Sakura touched her hand to her chin. “More energy is hotter,” she recalled him saying.

Madara nodded.

“But more energy can also be gas,” she went on.

Madara’s eyes crinkled a little, but he said nothing.

Sakura’s forehead wrinkled as she peered up at him. “Am I a water affinity?”

Madara nodded.

“And you’re fire?”

Madara nodded again.

“Can someone be good at both?”

Madara thought for a moment. “Your natural affinity is what you’ll be good at with little effort. It would be more challenging, but it’s possible to do both well,” he decided.

Sakura tilted her head

“What about earth?” she asked.

Madara laughed. He leaned back in his chair. “You must’ve driven those teachers crazy with all these questions.”

Sakura didn’t smile. She looked down at her feet. “They got mad when I kept asking…” she confessed.

Madara’s laugh cut off. He examined her expression. And then he ruffled her hair. “Aw, kid, don’t look like that. You can ask me as much as you like. Just as long as I’m not trying to sleep,” he assured her. And then he paused.

“I mean... sometimes when I’m... ah whatever. Ask away, kid,” Madara concluded. Watching the dimples form in her cheeks as she gave him a shy smile in return.

++++

“Nice work today. Your basics are really coming together,” Madara commended her over dinner one day.

Sakura smiled around her bite of chicken. She was doing that more and more now.

“Next, we should take you to an appraiser. Your folks wouldn’t have brought you to Konoha if you didn’t have an affinity for dream magic,” Madara went on. He slathered a biscuit with too much butter, gesturing with his knife as he spoke.

Sakura’s smile faded a little.

“They did it once. At the Institute,” she admitted.

“And?” Madara prompted, cheeks stuffed with food. “What’s the verdict, kid?”

Konoha was famous for the art of dream magic. Unlike elemental magic, which most people could learn to use with the right training, dream magic couldn’t be learned. It was innate. Dreams, shadows, thoughts- those were all things that ran in the blood.

Someone had once thought to call those would could handle dreams dream casters. It was a silly name, but it had stuck. A low level dream caster could bottle a dream that already existed and sell it for profit. A more skilled dream caster could amend parts of a dream, or even piece one together from scratch.

Sakura nudged a piece of broccoli on her plate.

“They never said.”

They had taken one look at the paper and sent her back to her room. The subject had never come up again.

“Those fuckers,” Madara sighed. His eyes widened. At the same time, Sakura’s head jerked up.

They stared at each other.

“Was that a bad word?” she asked.

Madara’s eyes darted to the ceiling. Then back to her. “Uh… yes. You shouldn’t say it.”

“Even though you just said it?”

“….Yeah.”

“….Okay.”

The test was simple.

Madara sent her to bed early that night. Reading the expression on her face, he mussed her hair.

“Don’t worry, kid. It’s not hard,” he assured her.

Despite all the questions swirling around in her head, Sakura managed to fall asleep. And as she found herself dreaming of a park on a sunny day, she spotted a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. Madara lowered his round sunglasses with a smirk.

“Well. Only dream casters can meet in dreams. Gotta make room for that in your lessons, I guess,” Madara mused, rubbing his chin.

When Sakura woke in the morning, she shuffled into the kitchen bleary-eyed. Madara stood flipping pancakes at the stove. Well, more accurately, he stood drinking coffee while a spatula flipped pancakes on its own. Madara turned his pointer finger in a circle. A glass flew out of the cupboard. The refrigerator door opened so a carton of orange juice would move to join the cup.

“You ever get any training in dream magic before, kid?” Madara asked her.

Sakura shook her head as she watched the glass fill with juice. When she held both her hands out, the cup lowered down into her waiting grasp.

“Good. Means I don’t have to undo any garbage they put into your head at that school,” Madara muttered.

Nightmares were a common issue for dream casters. Especially in children. Who had an excess of magic with no way to use up the energy. The surplus magic seeped into their dreams. Twisting things into horrors that only a child could imagine.

Madara taught her not to fear.

“You shape the dreams. They cannot shape you,” he told her.

Each dream caster had a way of envisioning dreams. And a way to bend them to their will.

Madara saw dreams as swirling black mists. When he casted, he sank into the endless field of mist, feet settling onto the soft black powder that coated the ground. He pulled the mists into shapes, sculpting them into people and objects. He could even sweep bigger sections into the skies and the ground. And when he channeled his magic, burning red for just a moment up his fingers, he filled the mist with color and texture.

Sakura copied him, at first.

But even as she learned, Sakura loved watching him bend her dreams. Twisting the nightmare shapes into harmless stuffed animals and pieces of furniture. He conjured ice cream out of thin air. He could even make stars appear in the sky where there had been none. It all felt so natural. And it was so easy to do it once she had seen him do it a few times.

“Is it normal for us to have bad dreams?” she asked one night as he lit the incense in her room. The fragrance filled the air. Madara paused. And then he looked over his shoulder at her.

“In the beginning, yeah. Maybe it’s the cost of walking through everyone else’s dreams,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He lit the last stick of incense before he took a seat next to her bed. “But you’ll stop having them. Or you’ll learn how to make them good again.”

Her room was right across the hall from his. He had heard her wake up crying the first few nights in the house. So it had become part of the routine for him to check on her. He never said why. He didn’t really have to. And she didn’t thank him for it. Somehow she got the feeling that it would embarrass him.

“I wish I didn’t have bad dreams,” she muttered, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Madara smirked. “Same, kid. Good night.”

He mussed her hair before he got to his feet.

++++

“Alright. So.” Madara took a deep breath before he started.

“This is my little brother Izuna. That’s my nephew Fugaku. And those are his two kids Itachi and Sasuke. This is Obito, I think he’s a nephew. Or maybe he’s a cousin. Cousin’s cousin? Eh, whatever.”

He pointed to each face in the photograph as he rattled off the name.

“That’s too many people,” Sakura said. Cheek in his hand, Madara nodded.

“Family’s too damn big. Anyway, I’m the head, so you can be as rude or as nice as you want. No one’s gonna say shit to yo-” Madara broke off as he caught himself swearing again. Sakura scrutinized his expression.

“I’m not supposed to say that word?” she guessed.

Madara sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

And then she turned her attention back to the album.

“So… they’re my family too, now?” Her voice was suddenly tiny. Not like her at all.

Madara stared at her profile.

“Yeah, kid. You’re not alone anymore,” he answered. He rested his hand on top of her head. It was heavy, but she didn’t complain or shake him off.

It wasn’t difficult to get to know the other members of the Uchiha family. They came to visit often. So much so that Madara grumbled and threatened to kick them out each time they showed their faces.

But Madara’s too-big house started to make sense. All the spare bedrooms were perfect for when someone wanted to spend the night.

Shisui liked to crash on the sofa when he fought with his family. Itachi used one of the guest rooms when he wanted to study dream magic with Madara. And Sasuke was there the most often. When he needed a quiet place. When he just needed space from his parents. Because “they care about me, but they’re…a lot.”

None of them batted an eye when Madara introduced Sakura as their cousin. Shisui took to ruffling her hair the same way he did to Sasuke. Itachi reminded her about elbows on the table and offered to help her with her homework. Sasuke was just relieved to have someone his age around now. After years of Itachi and Shisui ganging up on him for being “the baby”.

The titles for how they were related to Madara were tangled and complicated. They called him “Uncle”, and Madara called them her cousins. And that was good enough for her too.

Sakura liked it when her cousins slept in the house. The proximity made it easier for her to visit them in their dreams.

In the early years, when her magic was still a tiny little sapling, she could only visit a dream that was very nearby. And that was almost always by accident. She would stumble into a place that wasn’t hers, baffled by the weight and shapes of things.

It happened the most with Madara, since he was usually nearby. And if he was irritated by her intruding on his dreams, he never let it show in his face.

But as time went on, she began to wield her magic with more ease. And rather than falling thoughtlessly into dreams, she could imagine the shape of the entrance to the dream world. It was a worn wooden door, painted deep purple. There were vines crawling up the edges, spreading towards the keyhole. Which made no sense, because it always opened without a key at her touch.

Madara taught her about the portal that would take her to the Uchiha family’s dreams. It was a long corridor filled with ornate doors. Each one a different color and shape. And when she hesitated, Madara tugged her hand to pull her forward.

“Your door is here too,” he had assured her.

And Sakura blinked. “Mine?”

She memorized the shapes and colors of the doors she knew. Itachi, Shisui, Sasuke, Madara’s, and finally hers. The jeweled handles turning soundlessly under her fingers.

It turned out that even dream casters in the same family envisioned dreams differently.

Shisui dreamt of space. Each of his dreams was a different planet, swirling with cosmic dust. Nightmares were filled with storm clouds. Quiet dreams were barren moons that spun on in silence.

On the nights when he worked, sometimes Shisui let her tag along as he cast together people and places into one planet. Crushing them between his palms as they rotated faster and faster. Until light shone between his fingers. And when he pulled his hands apart, a planet or a moon spun in place. A dream that he would then pluck out of space and file away for later.

Itachi saw dreams as a vast ocean. When he casted, he plunged into a deep ocean. He settled onto the soft sand at the bottom of the sea. Corals bloomed and seaweed waved in time to the current. And he pulled the fish and all the shells together, weaving them into a beautiful dream that could lull the most anxious heart to sleep.

It was strange being where Itachi cast his dreams. Silence. Bubbles rising with each exhale, even as she breathed without a problem.

Sasuke’s was unusual, even among his eccentric family. He dreamt of a vast warehouse of boxes and jars. Sakura trailed after him as he wandered the aisles, grabbing things off the dusty shelves. Sometimes she even carried some of the things for him, listening to him mutter and sigh as he tried to find just the right ingredient. And then Sasuke dumped all these things into the giant vat in the middle of his dream space.

It was fitting. Given how Sasuke liked formulas and order. Sakura sat to the side, watching as he brewed up a beautiful dream, more clinical and more calculated than those of his cousin or his older brother. But beautiful nonetheless.

With all of these influences around her, it wasn’t difficult for Sakura to discover how to cast dreams her own way. She experimented with different styles until she found one that just sang in her palms.

When she entered her room in the dream world, she imagined fragments of dreams as colors and sounds. A little like Sasuke’s, these fragments lived in glass jars that lined the walls of the room. But when she popped the cork, sound spilled out of each one. Someone’s laugh. The honk of a car horn. People singing “happy birthday” off-key.

When these fragments swirled together into a tapestry of colors and sounds. Thrumming warm between her fingers until they gathered together into a solid shape in her hands. At first, she made them take the shapes of smooth stones. But over time, she learned to turn them into crystals instead. Just like the fluorite Madara had first taught her how to make. The stronger dreams became more jagged crystals. While the softer ones became rounded gems that sat warm and curved in her palm.

And just as she liked to visit her family in their dreams, they liked to visit her too. Itachi, in particular, loved to sit on a cushion in the corner, his chin in his hand.

“It’s elegant.”

Sakura turned to him, her hands still squeezed together. A snippet of laughter slipped through between her fingers.

“What?”

“The way you weave dreams. It’s elegant. Just like Uncle’s,” Itachi clarified. He held his hand out. Sakura dropped the dream into his palm. It was a rose quartz, shiny and smooth.

++++

Part of Madara’s deal with the Senju Institute was that Sakura was required to participate in the same exams as other students. So, once a year, Madara drove her to the school. He parked his car in the lot and waited while she took the exams.

Some of the other students recognized her. They whispered, nudging each other with elbows. Some snickered as they waited for a good show as she failed to conjure anything. Like always.

Instead, she recited incantations forwards and backwards. Her hands glowed as she filled the room with a rippling aurora. She conjured balls of light and turned them into water. The muttering and smirking stopped right away.

It seemed silly now. And she could hear Madara’s voice in her head. Imagine him slouching in a chair in the corner, acting like he wasn’t paying attention even as he advised her to straighten her posture.

Breathe deep, kid. Magic starts with the breath.

Feel the heat gather in your stomach and pull it into your hands.

Water comes from your head. Imagine it spilling down your neck and arms. That’s the magic pathway you need to use.

The sputtering instructors tried to speak with her after. But Madara leaned on his horn. Everyone rushed to the windows to cast a glimpse of Madara poking his head out the car, one hand cupped around his mouth.

“Let’s go! Takeout’s getting cold, kid!” he called.

“Coming!” Sakura yelled back out the window before she hurried down the stairs.

And as Sakura got into the car, Madara always paused to glare up at the school. “Anyone give you any trouble?”

“No. It was fine,” Sakura always answered.

“Good,” Madara grunted as he backed out of his spot.

++++

At some point, Sakura couldn’t remember when, she stopped calling Madara by his name. Maybe it was around the same time, he stopped calling her “kid” or “squirt”.

It was odd, because that seemed like something important. So she should’ve remembered it.

But maybe it was because it had happened so quietly. So naturally.

One day, she looked at Madara’s back as he stood in the middle of the massive library inside their house.

“Papa.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t laugh. As if that was what she had always called him.

“Can we go over that transmutation spell again? I’m still kind of lost.”

“Sure,” he replied, already descending the ladder with several books floating down after him.

++++

Before either of them knew it, years had passed. Sakura enrolled in the Senju Institute as a college student. She majored in Abjuration with a minor in Divination. When she graduated with full honors, Madara had barely batted an eye.

“Didn’t expect anything less from you,” he assured her as he took them out to dinner to celebrate. They clinked wine glasses together.

Four months later, she was back for her Masters in Magical Research. She commuted from home, like she had during undergrad.

“You know, you’re always welcome back here,” the headmaster liked to mention whenever they bumped into each other. Which was a little too often for it to feel like coincidence.

“No thanks,” she replied, barely looking up from her textbook, “I like where I am.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling as she pretended not to notice how the headmaster’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell that old man to go fuck himself,” Madara scoffed when she brought it up over dinner.

“Papa. Language,” she chided. She flicked her wrist. The pepper shaker glided across the table, into her hand.

“That is the right language for him,” Madara snorted.

Fourteen years had passed since she had come to live in that house. Her room still sat across the hall from Madara’s, all the way up on the top floor. In all that time, Madara had never once nagged her about staying up late at night. He didn’t complain about how she used all the hot water in the house whenever she showered.

The closest they had ever come to fighting was when he had insisted upon hanging her diploma and her graduation portrait in the foyer. She thought it was embarrassing. Especially since Madara loved to brag about it anytime someone visited. He refused to let anyone inside until they made some sort of positive comment about the diploma. It made Sakura groan and put her head in her hands.

“You hate it that much?” Madara had teased at first.

Lifting her head, Sakura wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t really say ‘yes’, though.

++++

“And this is where it all starts.”

++++

It was early in the morning on a Friday.

Magic trembled in the air. Like a raindrop clinging to the underside of a gutter. Wobbling. Waiting until the moment that gravity would drag it down.

Madara rolled onto his side, his ears ringing and his ribs sore. He started when he heard someone exhale beside him. He didn’t remember bringing anyone home last night. He wondered what time it was.

“Papa. I need to borrow your scrying bones.”

He let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Sakura’s voice. Pulling the covers over his shoulders, he turned over again.

“Don’t you have your own?” he groaned. He felt persistent pokes to his lower back.

“Yours work better,” she insisted.

Madara didn’t respond. But after a long time, he heaved another sigh. He raised his pointer finger and flicked it through the air. The bottom drawer of his nightstand opened. A black velvet pouch floated up, landing in her hands.

“Thank you, Papa. I love you,” she said in a sing-song voice. She kissed the back of his head through the comforter before she pranced off. Humming as she rattled the dry bones together in the pouch.

“What’re you trying to scry anyway?” he asked, squinting as he pulled the comforter away from his face.

“I wanna know what I should wear on my date today,” Sakura yelled back from the other room.

“Oh,” Madara said. He snuggled back down in the comforter. Letting out a yawn, he closed his eyes again. Relaxing in the warmth of his blankets in the ear-

“Wait. Date?” Madara repeated, eyes snapping open again. The comforter tangled around his legs as he launched himself out of the bed. He scrambled to his feet, kicking the sheets aside as he hurried out of his room. Listening to the rattle of the scrying bones knocking together as she cast them to the ground.

“With who?” Madara asked. The door to her bedroom was wide open.

“A guy. We were in the same chem class last year,” she answered. She stared at the bones she had scattered across the rug. She nudged a couple of them with her pointer finger. Madara scowled.

“Hey. Don’t force the bones,” he reminded her.

Sakura’s lower lip jutted out.

“If you want a certain answer, you shouldn’t be consulting the bones in the first place,” he then scolded her.

Sakura pouted even harder as she turned around to stare at him. Madara flinched a little. He wasn’t proud to admit that he had succumb to those pleading eyes on several occasions.

“This is important to me, Papa. Don’t be mean,” she insisted.

Madara exhaled noisily, rubbing his hand through his hair. And then he flapped his hand at her. “Alright, alright. Keep at it,” he told her, crossing his arms across his chest. A proud smile crept across his lips as he watched the bones begin to glow a soft shade of gold.

Divination had always come easily to her.

Wisps rose from the blackened cracks in the bones. Sakura leaned in to listen to the whispers.

Eyes widening, she turned her head to look at her bed. There were a few different sets of outfits laid out on her comforter.

“Really? The red one?” she mused.

The bones hissed something else before the mist dissipated. Sakura stared down at them for a moment.

Beware of the dreams that linger, they had whispered.

“What?”

Sakura looked up to find Madara still in the doorway. He yawned as he stretched his arms over his head.

“You’ve got an eye booger, Papa,” she pointed out.

Madara rubbed his left eye.

“No. The other one.”

He rubbed the other eye.

Sakura scooped the bones up and dropped them into the silky pouch. She tied the string. Madara held his hand out. Sakura tossed the bag up into the air. It drifted to Madara, landing in his waiting palm.

“Do you have time for breakfast before your date?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s not until tonight. Can you make pancakes?” she requested, staring up at him. Madara grumbled, scratching his stomach. Sakura pulled on the bottom of his shirt as he shuffled past her.

“Go wash your face,” he sighed as he walked out of her room. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bag of scrying bones flying back into their spot in his room. Bleary-eyed, Madara made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

They had breakfast a little while later. Sakura laughed when Madara almost poured maple syrup into his coffee. Madara snorted into his food when Sakura read one of her texts out loud. Sakura snorted too as he began choking on his food. They were both in tears and wheezing by the time they had cleared their plates.

After they did the dishes, Sakura glanced down at her watch.

“I’m gonna go to the shop first. I won’t stay out late,” she promised. She gathered her hair in one hand and pulled it off her neck as she searched for her phone. Madara froze. Sakura looked back when she felt his stare.

“What?”

Madara blinked hard. And then he smiled.

“Your phone’s in your hand, kiddo,” he pointed out.

Sakura looked down. She laughed. Madara did too as he went to pour himself another cup of coffee.

++++

The Uchiha family’s dream shop sat in a quiet street not far from Madara’s house. It was close enough that she could walk, although Madara insisted that she ask him or one of her cousins for a ride at night.

It was a little cramped. And they could more than afford to move into a larger space. But there was something charming about that crooked shop. About the way they had to scoot past each other on the narrow stairs.

The sign above the door was in the shape of a paper fan. The white and red paint was peeling. Shisui and Sasuke nagged Madara about upgrading to a neon sign every once in a while, but Madara had ignored them for years. And would, undoubtedly, continue to ignore them for as long as possible.

The store was already open when she arrived. Sakura felt a faint hum in the air as she rested her hand on the doorknob. Bells chimed as Sakura stepped into the shop. The dreams sat on the shelves that lined the walls. They glowed white for a moment when she stepped inside. Then they faded back to their natural colors. Dreams about adventures were green. The ones about love swirled pink and light purple.

These dreams had been collected from other people. Friends, acquaintances. Sometimes just strangers who slept beautifully. Sakura dove into their dreams and took a part of it home with her. Gathering the threads of the dream matter in her hands like glistening threads as she walked. As long as she was careful, when she woke, those threads were still in her hands. She could slip them into jars with a hint of enchantment to stabilize them.

It was one of the first things Madara had taught her outside of basic magic. This was the cheapest form of dream magic. After all, dreaming someone else’s dream wasn’t perfect. Details didn’t always line up. Names and faces wouldn’t make sense. But for most people and their budgets, this was enough.

“Hey,” Shisui greeted her, leaning against the counter and the register. Sakura waved at him as she shut the door behind her. She ducked beneath the mobile of colored ribbons and bells that hung from the rafters.

“Is it just us?” asked Sakura, pulling her scarf off. She tossed it into the air behind her. Along with her coat. An enchantment caught them and pulled them onto the coat rack in the corner. The spell even straightened out her coat so that it wouldn’t wrinkle.

Shisui tapped a pen against the counter. He tossed it and then stretched his arms over his head. “Nah.” He interrupted himself with a big yawn. “Itachi’s upstairs with a client right now.” He blinked a few times, obviously exhausted.

Shisui rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Sasuke’s doing something at the lab. He’ll be by later to lock up.”

“On the third floor?”

“Yep.”

Sakura craned her head to look up as she thought.

The customers who weren’t satisfied with buying prepackaged dreams were where they made the big money. Some wanted the dreams that were tailored to their specifications. Others had nightmares that they needed a dream caster to untangle. Both services required the dream caster and the client to be asleep at the same time. The therapy rooms upstairs provided the quiet space these clients needed.

Sakura made a note to stay extra quiet as she moved around the shop.

Shisui watched the counter, checking on sales and appointments. Sakura kept busy organizing dreams and taking inventory of what they needed to harvest.

This was how most days at the shop went. They swapped out roles as their clients came in for appointments. Sakura’s gentle touch with both clients and dreams made her popular with children. Women almost always requested Itachi or Sasuke. Shisui was the most popular among their older clientele.

Madara himself didn’t come to the shop much these days. He always joked: “Why would I? When I have you kids to make all the money for me?”. They only pulled him from his research when there was something the four of them couldn’t figure out on their own.

On the nights that Sakura stayed late, there was almost always someone who would walk her home. Or Madara would drop everything to be there once she texted him. Hand on the back of the passenger seat. Grinning with those sharp canines that she had once found a little intimidating (how silly).

“Hey kiddo. Ready to go home?” was his corny greeting each night.

That night, Madara didn’t pick her up. She still messaged him to let him know that she had left the shop, Sasuke would be closing up, and not to wait up for her.

Izuna brought jerk chicken. I’ll pack leftovers for your lunch tomorrow, Madara replied.

Sakura sent him a series of purple hearts in response.

The date went well. Gaara had sat next to her for an entire semester. They had spoken a few times. Once, he had asked for a pencil. So it had surprised her when he had asked for her number, face turning so red he looked ready to explode.

Dinner was at a tiny Turkish restaurant. They sat at one of the counters by the window, a little squished as they bit into spicy lamb and crispy falafel.

“What are you doing now that we’re out of school?” she asked. She took a slurp of soda through her straw as she looked over at him. She laughed when she saw him struggling to swallow his food to answer. She handed him a napkin.

“Eat. It’s okay,” she giggled.

Gaara blushed again as he wiped his mouth. The thin paper stuck to the oil on his fingers.

“I’m… working at city hall. For public works,” he finally managed to say.

Sakura tilted her head to one side. “I’m not really sure what public works is in charge of,” she confessed.

Something lit up in his eyes. He sat up a little straighter as he began explaining. “There are divisions within public works. But basically it’s in charge of taking care of public buildings and facilities in the city. I work for the division that oversees the parks. I go out to visit them and check that they’re safe. Sometimes I survey people to ask what they think we can do to improve things.”

Sakura smiled a little. She leaned on her hand as she listened to him. And when he had finished, he glanced over at her. Suddenly small and quiet again.

“You really like your work, huh?” she commented.

He flushed bright red, all the way to his ears. But he nodded.

“That sounds really cool. What are you working on lately?” Sakura asked.

They stayed until the manager of the restaurant apologized and said it was time to close. As they stood on the sidewalk, Sakura puffed out a breath. It was getting cold at night. Her hands in her pockets, she cast a sidelong glance at Gaara. He was looking down at his phone.

“I’ll call you a cab,” he offered.

Sakura thought it over. And then she nodded.

“Sorry. I’d give you a ride if I had a car,” he added as he pressed some icons.

Sakura snorted. “I don’t have a car either. Can’t judge.”

He chuckled too.

And then as they stood waiting, Sakura heard him shuffle his feet.

“Uh… so… can I see you again?” he asked.

Sakura rocked back on her heels. She took a deep breath of the cool air. When she looked up at him, she was smiling again. “You’re cute. You have good manners. You have a job that you’re passionate about. I don’t see why not,” she answered.

His eyes widened. Sakura burst out laughing at the look on his face.

When the black car pulled up, Gaara opened the door for her. He waited for her to get into the back seat before he closed the door. And then he hesitated, fingers resting on the handle.

“Can you text me to let me know you got home okay?” he requested.

Sakura leaned out the open window. She reached out to tap him once on the nose. “Sounds good to me. Good night,” came her reply. As she rolled up the window, his fingers slipped off the door.

Sakura listed out her address to the driver before she leaned back in her seat. She caught the driver glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

“Good date?” he asked.

“Yeah,” answered Sakura with a smile.

Even though she had told Madara not to wait up, he was sitting at the kitchen table when she got home. She tossed her coat in the air. One of Madara’s spells caught it and draped it over a hanger. Just like the one that gathered her discarded shoes and slipped them into an empty spot on the shelf. She climbed the steps, rubbing her hands through her hair.

“Hi, Papa,” she greeted him as she walked into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows and nodded before he returned his attention to his book. Sakura scrubbed her hands clean in the sink. The smell of the fruity soap filled the room. She rubbed her hands on a kitchen towel before she took a seat next to Madara at the round table.

“How’d it go?” questioned Madara. He slipped a bookmark between the pages before he shut the cover.

“Pretty good. He seems nice,” Sakura said right away. Madara pulled his glasses down, hooking them into the front of his shirt.

“Are you going to see him again?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but Sakura wasn’t fooled. Tongue between her teeth, she grinned at him.

“Aw, Papa. Are you gonna feel lonely if I get a boyfriend again?” she teased.

Madara looked disgusted by the very idea. “No. I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet again,” he retorted. Sakura snickered. And a smile touched Madara’s lips as he got out of his seat.

“I’m going to have some coffee before bed. You want some?” he asked.

“I wanna try the one Uncle Izuna brought last time,” Sakura called after him before she slumped over the table.

The kitchen always smelled like coffee. Madara probably drank more coffee than he did regular water. It was no wonder that his sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up. Coffee in the morning. Decaf at night- even though that didn’t seem to help. The kettle let out a whistle when it was ready. Madara poured the water through the filter into her favorite cup. The white one with red flowers.

“How was the shop today?” inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the fragrant steam.

“How was the shop today?” inquired Madara when he returned. Sakura inhaled the sweet-smelling steam.

“A little quiet. I need to get more childhood dreams. I’m starting to run low,” she mused. She reached over to pick up his book. It was old. The green cover was peeling at the edges.

“What’s this?” she wondered.

“I’m looking at tracing magic in ancient artifacts. Kind of dry,” he huffed.

“You writing a new research paper?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you pick a topic you like more, Papa?” wondered Sakura.

Madara rolled his eyes. “It’s a request from someone I owe a favor to,” he responded.

Sakura wrinkled her nose.

Madara sighed. “Exactly.”

They chatted for a little while longer before Sakura began to yawn. She rubbed her wrist across her eyes. “I have to head to school in the morning to pick up some materials. I’m gonna go to bed,” she announced, getting out of her chair. She gathered both their empty cups to place in the sink.

“Night,” Madara greeted her.

“Good night, Papa,” she replied. Sakura gathered her purse and her phone. She squeezed Madara’s shoulder as she walked past.

++++

As the weeks went by, Sakura found herself quite busy. Whenever she wasn’t at the shop, she was busy working on her thesis. Sometimes Naruto and Ino wheedled her into taking a break. They got cheap pizza and sat eating on the curb. Or sometimes her cousins barged in with Vietnamese food and soda, completely ignoring how Madara glared at them as they stormed inside.

“I didn’t invite you,” he scolded.

“Nice to see you too, Uncle,” Sasuke called over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs up to Sakura’s room.

Sakura met Gaara a few more times. He really was very sweet. He always seemed embarrassed whenever he caught himself talking too much about his work. But it was nice hearing someone so excited about something. They went to see a movie. Another time, they just walked in the park, getting lost among the winding paths and trees.

“I really want to focus on finishing my thesis right now. I hope you don’t feel like I’m leading you on or anything,” she had explained once.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind waiting,” Gaara replied. And then he walked into a tree branch, making Sakura burst into giggles.

November turned to December. And suddenly it started to snow all over the city. As the white flakes covered the asphalt, Sakura browsed the library inside their house. It seemed impossible that such a huge room existed in the building. Of course it was. But Madara’s magic played around with the dimensions of the room to make it happen. It was an odd combination of light and heat that Sakura still struggled to pull off after all her years of practice.

Sakura pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. The silver wire frames had once been Madara’s, which, like many of his possessions, she had claimed as her own.

“What?” she called, leaning back on the ladder to peer at him. With a flick of his finger, Madara pulled the ladder down the wall of shelves, closer to him.

“I asked have you seen Shisui?” And he punctuated the end of the sentence with a sigh.

“Yesterday. At the shop. Why?”

“His parents say they haven’t seen him since yesterday. Can’t get in touch with him either.”

“Maybe his phone’s just dead, Papa,” Sakura suggested. She pulled another book off the shelf, leafing through it.

Whenever he wasn’t working at the dream shop, Shisui was usually doing magical research of his own. In particular, he was interested in how the position of celestial bodies affected spells. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear with his telescope and his spectrometer for a night or two.

“That’s what I thought at first. But it’s been a full day and no one’s seen him,” answered Madara. He leaned against the rungs, his hands under his chin.

In front of him was a shelf full of manuals on torture and human anatomy. Those were from some of his darker days as a younger man. His eyes flickered over to Sakura before he slowly waved his hands. The spines sparkled before they blurred. The letters of the titles swirled around, rearranging themselves into different words. Then he shot Sakura another look.

She was still looking through the shelf higher up. She hadn’t noticed anything.

“Either way, his parents are worried. Keep an eye out for him,” Madara insisted.

Sakura considered this. “Have you asked Itachi? He always knows what Shisui’s up to.”

Madara shook his head. “Says he has no idea either.”

There was a pause. Sakura pushed her glasses up again, lips twisting to one side. She pointed to a few books, which slid out of place from the shelves. They hovered in the air around her.

“I’ll ask my friends and see if they’ve seen him around,” she finally agreed. Madara smiled up at her.

“Great.”

That same night, only much later, Sakura’s shadow fell across the threshold of Madara’s room. She knocked on the open door. Which was a little silly, given that he could see her. But it was an old habit.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a headache again.”

Madara pulled his glasses off. Sighing, he put the glasses, along with his pen in the book to mark his place.

“It’s because you overdo it,” he scolded, even as he reached his hand out for her.

Pressing his fingertips to her temples, Madara channeled energy through the thin skin.

“Take a deep breath.”

He pulled the magic, which had twisted and bunched up in all the wrong ways.

“Inhale.”

He tugged. The threads of energy shattered. Like a jar of marbles overturned. The little shining pieces scattering in every direction. Gold fluttered from her temples, fluttering off in little glittering pieces.

Sakura’s eyes opened in time to catch the list glimmers of magic dissolving into the air.

“Am I channeling wrong? I keep getting them a lot lately,” she wondered. Rubbing the heel of her hand against her temple.

“No. It’s a common issue, actually. When you walk dreams, the residue magic follows you. It’s just buildup. Regular clarification like this is all you need,” Madara assured her. Sakura frowned a little harder.

“Have they found Shisui yet?”

Madara leaned his elbow on his headboard. He heaved a sigh. “Not yet.”

“It’s not like him to just run off. I hope he’s alright,” Sakura mused, frowning too. Sakura looked up when she felt Madara pat her knee.

“Things’ll be fine. They always are,” he said.

Sakura searched his eyes for a moment. And then a smile pulled at her mouth. She nodded, sighing. “You’re right.”

++++

A week later, and Shisui was still missing. Along with Itachi, who had never missed a day of work before.

“Still no word?” asked Ino.

“Nope. Nothing,” Sakura replied.

“Have they called the police?” Naruto wondered, leaning his elbow on the front counter of the dream shop.

“Yeah. They even went to his apartment. Nothing. Passport’s still there. None of his stuff is missing. It’s just... poof,” Sakura listed, shaking her head a little.

It really wasn’t like her cousins to disappear without a word. The police claimed that they were searching, but both Sakura and Madara agreed that it obviously wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Sakura. That sucks,” Naruto said. Leaning against her, he put his arm around her shoulder. Ino took Sakura’s hand and patted it a few times.

“Thanks,” was all she could think to say as her friends did their best to comfort her.

And while Sakura really was grateful, she felt worse for Sasuke. He hadn’t slept in days as he took to the streets in search of his older brother. She tried to go with him whenever she had time. And she called him on the nights she couldn’t, just to ask how things had gone.

Sakura even considered planting a dream in Sasuke’s room. Just to force him to get some rest. But she knew he wouldn’t like that. And he was so sharp that he might even spot it before it had a chance to take hold of him.

“You doing okay?” Ino questioned.

Sakura blinked. She smiled. “More than everyone else, I think. I’m trying to be positive.”

Naruto’s forehead wrinkled. “Aw, Sakura, I love you and your big heart,” he sighed, squeezing her a little tighter. Ino wrapped her arms around Sakura’s other side.

“Things will work out,” Ino reassured her.

++++

That night, Sakura walked into her house to silence. It was New Year’s Eve. She had promised to be home early so they could watch the countdown together.

“Papa? You didn’t pick up so I just walked home,” she called as she stepped out of her boots. She leaned a hand against the wall for balance. Paused. Waited for Madara’s voice drifting down the stairs to her.

Nothing.

“Papa?” she tried again.

Something about the quiet made her uneasy. She walked up the stairs, looking for a glimpse of silvery wings. There was usually a spirit around that she could talk to. But even the usual hum of magic that buzzed around the kitchen had gone silent.

The back of her neck itched. Sakura scratched at it as she wandered through the house. Nothing in the living room. Or in the laundry room.

She climbed the stairs. Madara’s study was empty. So was the second floor bathroom, where she sometimes found him sitting with a cup of coffee and chatting with the water spirits.

The third floor was silent too. But something about the air felt off as she climbed the last steps. And there was an odd smell. Metal. Metal and something that made her head begin to pound.

The floorboards creaked under her feet. She peered into her room first. Her bed was still unmade. One of her drawers sat open with her laptop resting on top. The string lights that framed her window winked at her. Everything was just as she had left it that morning.

Part of her must have known what she would find. She found herself dragging her feet. Blinking too much as she forced herself to cross the hall. To knock on the door that was ajar. Pretending that the huge pool of dark red wasn’t spreading across the white wood.

She could hear herself screaming. She couldn’t make herself stop. Tears filling and blurring her vision. She screamed and screamed until she could feel her ears ringing with the sound.

++++

“Hey! Sakura!”

Her eyes flew open. She could see a dark shape hovering over her. She flinched away until she recognized the glasses hanging from the front of his shirt.

“It’s just a bad dream,” Madara said. He snapped his fingers. An orb of soft light flickered into existence. Just enough for her to see that this was her bedroom. She could also make out his look of exhaustion as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“You okay?”

Sakura shook her head. She sniffed. Rubbed her face. Her palms came away wet with tears. Madara clicked his tongue. She felt him lean over her to pluck a couple tissues from the box on her nightstand. He pushed them into her hands. She sat there staring at them.

“You haven’t had a nightmare like that in a while. Must’ve shook you up pretty bad,” he sighed. And then his hand landed on top of her head. He patted her hair a few times. Still a little clumsy, even after all these years.

Sakura didn’t say anything. She stared down at her hands.

Madara patted her head again before he asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

Sakura shook her head again.

He sighed. “Okay. Let me go make some pancakes. It’s almost time to get up anyway,” he decided. He squeezed her shoulder before he got up. She could hear his bare feet shuffling against the floor as he walked. And then thumped their way down the steps.

Sakura sat in a daze for another minute. It took her a few tries to get her mind to focus on anything. She blew her nose, wadded the tissues up into a ball, and threw them in the trash. Out of habit, she disconnected her phone from the charger and lifted the screen up to eye level.

Friday, Nov 3.

A notification popped up on the screen to remind her that she had a date tonight.

Sakura dropped her phone. It bounced once on the mattress. She cast another wary look around her bedroom. And then she was scrambling off her bed, stumbling into Madara’s room. She yanked the bottom drawer open. Underneath a worn journal sat his bag of scrying bones. Sakura poured them out onto the rug right there.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Madara’s voice came from the doorway.

Sakura tried to push her tangled hair out of her face. She gave a hiss of frustration before she yanked it into a bunch on the side of her head and held it in place. She took a long breath before she could gather her frazzled thoughts enough to channel magic into the dry bones.

The black fissures in the bones began to glow. Voices hissed out through the brittle marrow.

Beware of the dreams that linger, they whispered again.

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut. She channeled a little more magic.

The whispers chanted the phrase over and over again: Beware of the dreams that linger.

And as the voices began to fade, they left her with one more warning.

Do not give your heart away.

“You know, you could’ve just asked to borrow them.”

Sakura’s head whipped around. Madara stood there, arms folded over his chest. He tilted his head a little as he looked her over.

“Go wash your face,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom.

Sakura turned back to the bones. They sat limp and cold on the rug. She scratched the back of her neck, heaving a sigh.

“Okay,” she answered before she scooped the bones up into her hand and dumped them back in the pouch.

++++

“And this is where it all starts again.”

#fanfiction #haruno sakura #modern magic!AU #i've been playing with this idea for forever #uchiha madara #uchiha itachi #uchiha shisui #uchiha sasuke #idk how to explain this #uchisaku #kind of #i'm stuck on amaryllis so i'll work on this until i can figure out what to do

108 notes · View notes