#if anyone’s interested I’ll explain it panel by panel

[burninglights]

Hozier’s Butchered Tongue is so resonant for me. Though my mother tongue wasn’t subject to a campaign of eradication like Scots Gaelic, Gaelic and Welsh, I have lost most of it to assimilation.

I’ve been relearning it for about a year now, and while it is very much a butchered tongue in my mouth, the act of speaking it is an act of resistance, of recovery, of joy.

It is still singing in me, here, above the ground - that has to count for something.

The lyrics are in Scots Gaelic (which I have been Learning more about the history of thanks to @ayeforscotland ‘s server — I highly recommend you watch his in defence of Scots Gaelic video) and my own mother tongue Setswana, and translate to “I feel at home, hearing a music few still understand.”

Finally, the person in the last panel is singing/shouting against a backdrop of newspaper headlines (one reads ‘Independence Now!’ as a nod to Welsh & Scottish independence movements) because fighting to bring back the Welsh, Gaelic & Scots Gaelic languages is a continuing challenge.

Special thanks to @relnicht for all his help with the Scots Gaelic!

#em.txt #em.jpeg #hozier #hozier fanart #butchered tongue #unreal unearth #fanart #Scots Gaelic #Setswana #hozier album #hozier unreal unearth #hozier butchered tongue #if anyone’s interested I’ll explain it panel by panel #comic #gaelige #edited to add context!!!

[playbucky]

Sergeants.

You and Soap joined the 141 together, as you’re a deal package but the longer they are together, the more people see them they recognise that they are more. Characters – Soap, Reader, Ghost, Alejandro and Rudy. Word Count – 1.5k

‘I’ll save you a seat Lt.’ ‘Soap.’ Your voice broke over the engine as the plane started it engine, Ghost watched as the Sarge tensed up and dropped his hand. ‘Don’t annoy the lieutenant or I’ll push you out the plane.’ You said, Soap rolled his eyes as Ghost watched you stand at in the back of the plane. ‘Yes ma’am.’ Soap sarcastically replied, he turned back to Ghost and gave him a smile before he jogged over to you. ‘Jesus Christ.’ Ghost mumbled as he watched you whack Soaps shoulder. ‘Any problems?’ Laswell quizzed over the comms. ’Negative.’ Ghost replied whilst he watched you talked to Soap before he took over the conversation. ‘Good, I hope you’ve meet up with Sergeant MacTavish and Y/L/N.’ Laswell’s voice came through as he watched the Sergeant continue to explain something in depth to you before you shook your head and turn to the team, as he followed behind you. ‘Positive.’

‘Don’t swing like that.’ You almost scalded him like a child, he stuck his tongue out at you as you lowered into the seat beside him. ‘Are you and Soap a thing?’ Rudy asked, Ghost was suddenly interested in the conversation and noticed the way you and Soap looked at each other, almost disgusted. ‘No, I’m his common sense.’ You jabbed your fork at him. ‘Common sense?’ Alejandro asked his thick brows furrowed, you nodded. ‘Yeah, when he was a cadet he decided that jumping off the ten foot level would be good.’ You explained, Soap smiled widely as he remembered it. ‘Didn’t everyone do that?’ Rudy commented, you nodded as you agreed with him. ‘Yes but Johnny boy here decided to go head first.’ You added, they looked at Soap who shrugged. ‘Luckily for him I can spot stupid a mile away.’ You said, giving his shoulder a forceful nudge which caused his chair to tumble backwards, he let out a startled yelp as he tried to grab onto something but came up empty handed before his back collided with the ground. ‘I told you.’ You said, taking a bite of your food as he rolled off his back and got into his seat, all four legs on the ground and frowned. ‘Is it just common sense or lack of you can detect?’ Ghost said, Soap narrowed his eyes at the masked man. ‘Nope, got a good bullshit detector as well.’ You joked.

Ghost glanced at you as watched Graves get out the car, your brows furrowed as you followed and noticed the men get out the car behind you, hands resting on their weapons and eyes trained on them. ‘Bullshit.’ You mumbled, Ghost looked at Graves as well and tensed up. ‘You sure?’ He muttered, his voice deep enough that it would just sound like a grumble to anyone further away. ‘Watch.’ You said, you suddenly moved your hand to you back and scratched but the men to you and Ghosts left fingers dropped to the trigger. You watched as Soap walked closer, his voice agitated as he tried to get between Graves and Alejandro. You shoulders tensed as Alejandro was shoved into the back of the jeep, the back of his head connected with the metal panel. One of the men that stood next to Graves shoved Soap away, he stumbled and gained his balance as Graves looked over the group. ‘I’ll phone Shepard.’ Soap said, he turned and walked back to the car but glanced at you, you rubbed your nose and his eyes darkened. ‘Shepard sends his regards.’ Graves said, then all hell broke loose, Soap was shot and his body was flung back before Alejandro was knocked unconscious. You reacted quickly and took down the two men that were stationed in front of you, Ghost took down the three behind you before you both dropped to the ground at the bullets fired at you, you breathed heavily and watched as Ghost moved around the back of the car, his body low to the ground. ‘Get out of here Johnny, go.’ He shouted, his shoulders slumped and you wanted to run around and pull Soap away but Ghost slouched back next to you. ‘We need to go.’ He said, you nodded and pulled your hand gun out as the light flickered above you, you raised your gun and fired, the solider dropped down before you and Ghost pushed off and disappeared into the darkness.

‘Soap.’ You breathed out, glad to see him even if he is all bloody. ‘You managed to survive without me.’ You joked, he smiled up at you. ‘Barely.’ You quickly crossed over to him, a hand landed on his left bicep as you looked at the bullet wound that stained his right. Your brows drew together before carefully lifted the sleeve shirt up. ‘Soap.’ ‘I’m fine, it’s a through and through.’ He replied, you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. ‘Sit.’ You commanded, Ghost watched as he walked over to the rotten bench and carefully sat on it. ‘Any word from the others?’ Soap asked Ghost as you pulled the bandage out the small first aid kit you carried. ‘Negative.’ Ghost grumbled, you placed the off white bandage on Soaps bicep before he automatically lifted his other hand up and pressed his finger against the end, you wrapped the material around before he let go. ‘Graves will be keeping Alejandro close, along with his other men.’ You told the pair of them, you pulled Soaps stained sleeve back down. ‘As much as I believe in our skills we need help and we need to get out of here.’ You said, you informed the men whilst your straightened your back and picked your gun up. ‘I’m guessing someone would have told you about an unknown safe house?’ You turned to Ghost, his dark eyes watched you before he nodded. ‘Rudy told me of a place.’ He said, you nodded and Soap’s jaw almost touched the floor. ‘Why wasn’t I told?’ Soap asked. ‘Need to know.’ Ghost grumbled, Soap looked offended as you walked over to the church window, the streetlights didn’t give much light and plenty of hiding spots for the shadows to hide in. ‘Why wasn’t I told?’ Soap grumbled. ‘Because Ghost is our superior Soap.’ You reminded him, Ghost and Soap turned to look at you as narrowed your eyes. ‘There’s a car ‘bout ten feet away, but three shadows have it surrounded.’ You informed them, the three men had their fingers on their guns ready for anything. ‘Just three?’ Soap asked, you nodded before you turned back to them. ‘No including the ones hidden in the alley ways, torturing random innocents, on top of roof tops, controlling the –‘ ‘Okay, we get it, do you have to be so negative?’ Soap asked, you raised a middle finger to him and he smiled widely at you as you turned to Ghost. ‘You good to drive?’ You asked him, he nodded and watched as you walked back over to Soap and pulled the knife from his thigh holster. ‘Soap passenger seat, I’ll get in the back.’ You said, your fingers tightened around the  ‘Isn’t Ghost our superior?’ Soap asked, you rolled your eyes. ‘Don’t see anyone else coming up with solutions.’ ‘Y/N’s right,’ Ghost said, you smiled widely at Soap who rolled his eyes, ‘we’ll need to move now.’ He said, Soap stood up and tried to hide the wince but you narrowed your eyes at him and tried to find any other injuries that he was keeping hidden from you.

‘You love him, don’t you?’ Ghost asked as he walked into the room and set the cup of tea and water on the small unit. ‘Thanks.’ You breathed out, you straightened yourself and you heard the bones pop. ‘I do.’ You replied, answering the question, Ghost nodded as he lowered himself into the seat and you picked the cup of tea up. ‘I mean,’ you allowed the warmth to seep into your hands, ‘he’s the home that I’d prefer to be with.’ ‘So why aren’t you together?’ He asked, confused that you weren’t in a relationship. ‘We tried but we aren’t meant to be in a relationship so we’re friends.’ You told him, he hummed as he lifted the bottom of his mask up and took a sip of tea. ‘You can sleep.’ Ghost said, you shook your head. ‘I’ll watch.’ He added, you hesitated, you looked at the cup of tea then to the back Soap’s head before you looked back to Ghost, he jutted his chin as he encouraged you. With an exhale you set your tea on the small table and stood up, Ghost watched as you stretched your back and then walked over to the small cot, careful not to cause too much noise. You stretched a hand out and ran it over Soaps head, the shaved hair had started to grew out, you smiled before you pulled the covers back. You sat down on the edge before you rolled onto your side, as you pulled the covers up, you buried your nose into Soap’s shoulder as you hand came around and draped over his waist. ‘Thank you Simon.’ You breathed out, his noticed the way your entire body relaxed.

#ghost x reader #reader x ghost #ghost imagines #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #cod: mw2 #cod:mw2 #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon Riley #Simon Riley x reader #reader x Simon riley #soap x reader #reader x soap #soap imagine #john soap mactavish #John ‘soap’ mactavish #john mactavish x reader #reader x john mactavish #call of duty

[purplehairedwonder]

Chapter 1079: The Kids Are(n’t) All Right

It’s been a little while since I’ve done a chapter write-up for a variety of reasons (vacation, illness, lack of interest in the who dunnit story), but this chapter got me back on the bandwagon. Wow.

So, we get the background of how York set up the who dunnit. My main interest here is what contingency she’s talking about, especially when we see this...

This has to be Kuzan, right? Blackbeard should still be fighting Law -- but even if that fight is over, I doubt he’d have time to get to Egghead afterward. Plus, with all the references to Ohara, it really shouldn’t be anyone else.

Then we switch to the main event.

Interesting that Shanks’ fleet is actually quite weak. It seems like he takes on quirky people, much like Luffy. They are incredibly loyal to him while he has the strength to protect them.

Shanks is giving the Worst Gen respect. Him asking about Kid’s injuries reminds me of these panels from his appearance in Wano:

Shanks clearly sees fighting against weakened opponents to be dishonorable, so he steps in between Greenbull and the victors in Wano who are still recovering. But by the time the Kid Pirates run into the Red Hairs, they’ve healed so are fair game.

Also super interested in this moment. Shanks is keeping an eye on Blackbeard, but he doesn’t have the most up-to-date info about what’s happening at Winner Island. 

Interestingly, though, this does seem to explain why Shanks showed up at the end of Wano (other than to promote Film Red); he must have expected Blackbeard to show up like Greenbull did to steal Poneglyphs. And he wasn’t wrong about the plot, just the location of the ambush.

This moment is also telling to me. If Shanks is the type of person who takes the weak under his banner to protect them, he’s going to find someone like Kid, who got his bounty pre-Sabaody from killing indiscriminately, detestable.

And then he uses Future Sight to see Kid doing some serious damage to his fleet:

This would actually have been hella impressive of Kid if he’d managed to do it. Not only did he build and fire the ray gun, but he was also pulling the ships into range as he did it.

But, we’ve known Shanks’ ethos since chapter 1:

So, if Shanks’ fleet is in danger, he’s going to take care of it himself. It’s definitely a testament to the danger Kid now poses that Shanks is the one to act, rather than leave it to others as we’ve seen him do previously, and he uses this move:

EXCUSE ME, SIR. This is the same move Roger used on Oden.

So, in a twisted way, Kid’s being given his due. (I’ll also look forward to this being animated because the double page is... hard to make out in places. Oda’s action sequences are often hard for me to follow.)

Random: I still can’t help but see a comparison between Future Sight and Minority Report. Kid technically hasn’t done anything yet, but Shanks is wrecking him like he’s avenging his friends.

Anyway, Kid and Killer are in a bad way.

And neither of them can swim because of their Devil Fruit/SMILE. Which is bad because Dory and Broggy completely wreck the Victoria Punk.

And everyone goes tumbling into the sea.

This chapter has been one callback after another, and these final panels are yet another callback:

And we all know what happened after that, so the paralleled language could indicate that the Kid Pirates will come back stronger in the future, but I’m not sure how much time there is left in the narrative for that.

As for what this might mean for Law, well, I’m less worried than a lot of people seem to be. For one thing, Law got a new goal in Wano (to learn about the Will of D.), so he needs to achieve that goal before he dies. It’s important to note that Law’s goal does not conflict with Luffy’s whereas Kid’s did, so Kid not achieving his dream was inevitable. Law, on the other hand, has become the audience’s way into the Will of D. mystery by being the only D. we’ve met who is interested in his name. 

Second, we’ve still got the mystery surrounding Rocky Port and all the key players are in the same orbit at the moment. It would narratively make the most sense for Law to survive so he, Blackbeard, and Coby end up in one place so we learn what happened there.

Third, Law wasn’t the aggressor in his fight -- he was ambushed -- while Kid was. Narratively, Kid is being punished for his arrogance while Law has no such narrative dictate.

Fourth, I just keep thinking about how Cora died for Law to live. It would sure feel unfulfilling for Law to finally be free of the chains that kept him chained down for thirteen years only to die unceremoniously.

Anyway, I still think it’s most likely that Law gets taken captive by Blackbeard, leading to some interesting dynamics with Coby, Pudding, and Garp. There would be so much gold to mine there.

#One Piece #One Piece 1079 #One Piece chapter 1079 #One Piece 1079 spoilers #One Piece spoilers #Eustass Kid #Killer #Shanks #Trafalgar Law #Blackbeard #Chapter write-up

[yinses]

all and half pt. ii

in which your soulmate is the one person you can achieve true pleasure from 

alhaitham au! x f!reader wc: 10k+ rating: 18+

masterlist

a/n: made it before the banner ended! hope you enjoy the last installment ☺️

when you had sent a courtesy pending text of your imminent arrival, alhaitham had replied with a passcode to get you through the lobby. it was a grateful gesture as it gave you a few extra moments to fortify your resolve as you tapped left and right in the elevator. 

your plan was simple. to just explain how you expected nor wanted anything in return. the sex was great but you were not going to be tied to someone because of it. you hoped the grand scribe had a similar outlook as well.

following the familiar hallway, you knocked twice then the door opened and he was in front of you. you eyed him briefly, he was dressed down today in cream slacks and an olive green sweater. you were sure he was regarding your barely put together expression as he stepped aside, gesturing for you to walk through. 

you walked into the apartment and looked around, only noticing slight differences in the light. 

you stare curiously into ceiling high window panel behind alhaitham rather than directly. the queasiness had returned, but when you forced your gaze to the man who was forever titled as your soulmate, you felt yourself lose another layer. 

all the while alhaitham observed you quietly, arms crossed as he leaned his hips back into the spine of his couch. 

“is this where i offer you something to eat or will you think it’s a date?”

the remark was low, not snarky but it doused fire on the dainty wings fluttering within.

“would you be cooking it or does the grand scribe salary come with a private chef?”

alhaitham raised a brow,” depends on if you have too many pesky allergies to make it worth the trouble.”

“interesting, that’s all it takes to make you quit.”

he cocked his head but said nothing more on the matter. “i didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

you pursed your lips,“so you’re the really a big head of the akademiya”

“i don’t know if i should be flattered or not that it took a business card to be recognize.”

“you should just be flattered that i went home with you.”

“i suppose i should, given my soulmate found me attractive even before i gave them the best night of their life.”

that sobered you up.

your mouth pulled in a shallow sneer, “just because we’re possibly soulmates doesn't mean our fate is sealed.”

alhaitham blinked in a flicker of emotion before his features schooled back into a mask of indifference, “might i remind you, we are most certainly soulmates. you might be determined to deny it but i’ll admit you gave anyone who came before you a run for their money and thats not an easy task.”

your scowl deppened. “so what now, have you picked out a ring?”

he intoned lowly, “sweetness, no offence, but you didn't exactly become tolerable until i got my fingers between your legs.”

your gaze narrowed, but the man only shrugged off the threat,” so no, i’m afraid you’re free to accept other offers.”

“so you don't want anything from this?”

“what do you want?”

the image of a heat flushed alhaitham flashed into the forefront of your mind and your hands shook slightly at the memory you’d been trying in vain to forget for the past twelve hours. 

the tang of copper jerked you out of your thoughts with the burn of the broken skin of your bottom lip. the action wasn’t lost on alhaitham as he eyed you wearily. 

“we don’t have to do this today. there is no timeline it.”

his voice was soft, gentle even as it licked against the fraying edge of your resolve. it was too personal … and more frighteningly it did something to you, shaking you at your core and making you feel less balanced than the foundation you’d arrived on. 

you never considered yourself to be particularly weak. despite the akademiya priding itself on the very guidance of the archon, you had strove to get yourself admitted for the sole purpose of proving them all wrong. 

you were fueled by pure stubbornness, much to your mother’s exasperation. 

it was the very woman who you relied on to remain strong. stronger than any thing the institution or the rest of the world could throw at you. 

more resolute than the temptation standing before you. 

but you did have one flaw. 

the very determinate factor that welcomed you into the akademiya despite your research intentions. 

curiosity.

“i want to be sure.”

and then you closed the distance, pulling alhaitham down into a kiss.

he's not easy to draw under, not even with audible consent and desirable hands. it's prominent that you're reaching for something, perhaps your sanity or preferably self-respect.

you decide they both taste similarly inviting against the curl of his tongue. just when you think you've drawn him into a dance, he pulls away, hand seizing your forearm to keep you in place when you tense in preparation to flee.

alhaitham crooked a finger beneath your chin to draw you in for a reassuring peck and once more to hold your gaze. when he broke away, he said, "you're an adult, so i wont presume to make decisions for you. but are you sure?"

he was right to ask as you were the one who went running first, only to return just as the cold seeped from your feet and warmth bled into your lips.

the uncertainty was palpable but edible as you chewed through the racing thoughts. the desire was there, no doubt under any other circumstances would you have not pursued this man after he'd so eagerly returned your advances.

he wanted the reminder but you just wanted the taste. the forbidden fruit that held as many promises as it did curses. you wanted to know what you would give up before you walked away from the opportunity again.

and if he was willing to give you the chance, you'd take it.

your fingers curl at the back of his neck, though there is no give under your resistance. it's not until your lips purse into a pout that he cracks a hint of a grin.

"brat."

your brows knits determinedly, as you tug again," kiss me."

and he does.

it's a slower pace than before, explorative rather than desperate. solely from the press of your mouths, you could feel your overhanging reservations melt away. his hands swept down to guide your legs up by the backs of your thighs, drawing you down the vaguely familiar hall until you found yourself pressed down into the sheets.

he was addicting in a way that was arguably human and a sign of a deity. from the was he shoved pillows to the floor to give himself all the room he needed to get lost in you.

you were still learning about the man, but you were certain that he did nothing in halves.

alhaitham was different.

you gasped wordlessly because oh, oh, that felt so good

you were starting to lose control over your mind when he grabbed your hips with his firm hands and slammed into you with such force until it took your breath away. 

you forgot about anything before him, all for a second there. 

alhaitham fucked you, yes, he fucked you good in bed. or against the wall. bent over the counter. he fed you endlessly with so much fervour until you struggled to catch your sanity, feeling it dwindling down to zero. his abrasive nature, just like a hard cut diamond, dragged friction against your loins, filling up a reservoir of hunger pangs you hadn’t realised went neglected before. the thought of it alone made you feel greedy given the arrangement you’d had until now.

but this felt too damn good to compare.

you’d know kaveh for some weeks before the arrangement. he flittered in and out of the akedemiya enough to draw your attention. it took a short few nightly occasions for you to decide he was worth your time.

but whereas you had grow to learn kaveh, alhathaim felt like unmapped terrain ready to explore. he was saturated with fresh experiences and willingness to make you forget about the home you knew.  

kaveh would take one of your breasts in his hand, lick on your nipple and nibble on it–or bite, depending on his mood, really, before moving on to the other. his hands would always stay stationary at one stop, concentrating all he had to that point alone so that he could make you feel so good. 

his lips would always be latched somewhere so that he would not have to say anything to you about the waning passion between the two of you. your bodies knew the dance still, but the art was shallow. 

lips on your breasts, lips between your thighs but no lips of devotion for you.

 his movements were somewhat predictable at times because after he was done with foreplay, ensuring that you were properly aroused before taking it to the next step, he would slide into you and take you to heaven and hell at his own pace.

alhaitham was different.

he couldn’t give a flying fuck about nibbling on your breast or any pansy actions like that. his hands would constantly be on the move; one moment he would be roughly palming your breasts, squeezing too tight until pain bled into pleasure. 

one moment they would be running through your hair to stimulate you. another moment they would be between your legs and rolling your clit to make you black out in pleasure. 

and black out you did. 

it reminded you of the first time he took you, he made you faint because his movements were brash and ravenous, slamming into you and changing his angles ever so often. he picked up his speed when you tightened impossibly around him and slowing down when you came in an euphoric bliss before adopting a pace twofold to his own completion.

tonight, he did the exact opposite where he would tease you with shallow thrusts in the slippery heat, cocking an eyebrow arrogantly when you thrashed underneath him to make him go faster, and getting rougher and rougher when you wanted him to slow down a little to avoid yourself from burning up.

and his mouth.

“you like that?” or “harder, huh? tell me what you need, honey” 

occasionally: “who took care of you before this? you poor baby, you feel like a virgin.” or “ha- can’t even hold yourself up, lay here.” 

and his personal favourite: “dirty, dirty, sweetness. who would’ve thought you’d be so much of a slut. ” 

other times, he would not say anything at all and proceed to smash his lips against yours, all teeth and unchained lust, tongue sliding perfectly against yours and swallowing all the muted sounds you could make.

alhaitham was exceptionally efficient with his mouth, just like how good at plucking your strings with his fingers. methodical while latching to your earlobe and brushing against your temple to kiss it briefly there. the trail continued over your pulse point and down to your pebbled nipples.

 his sweaty hands lovingly ran over your body and appreciated your hidden curves. alhaitham mapped fire along your skin, burning away anyone else’s touch; hiked your legs over his shoulders so that he could fit in better and never once did he stop doing so.

you couldn’t breathe.

oh no

ou squeezed your eyes shut as you felt tears of pleasure trailing down your cheeks when he shifted some way somehow to render you incoherent. all that you could do was to cling onto him for dear life, taking the pleasure train into the abyss. loving how he catered turmoil of emotion still simmering from the loss, all to make sure that you didn’t crack at the frail seams of your euphoria.

it was frightening to come to terms with everything you’d fought against. to feel every theory singing against your nerves and warming your face under the trail of your tears. 

sex was meant to be good, but it wasn’t suppose to bind you. certainly not to a single person. for what archon would subject it’s people to such cruelty by only looking at the physicality of a relationship.

 not that you would die from an orgasm, but there was more to life than that. 

it felt good.

alhaitham felt good against your body too.

when your nerves tightened just like a taut bow and you threw your head backwards on the fluffy pillow and opened your mouth in a sharp scream. the feeling when everything faded away to red as your toes curled and your body trembled in release. 

alhaitham, too, sharply plunged in and out again, meshing his addictive-tasting mouth to yours. his hands now roving against your wrists and holding them tightly into place as he dominated you purely without giving you a chance to turn the tables on him. you quicken his impending climax as you shifted a little in place and clenched around him, hard, to watch how he screwed his spitfire blue-green eyes dark and shut. it left you willing and able to swallow his grows against your uninhibited lips, “you … you make me feel ...so good,” before collapsing on top of you, spent.

during this moment, you could almost pretend that it had all started with him. that nothing came before or had a place after. 

and it was a dangerous thought indeed.

petting his back. laving his hard muscles with trace of your fingers. you admired how well built he was, favouring a strong life outside of the akademiya. your body was desperate to fancy that he was yours and you were his.

but your heart could not lie.

it wasn’t enough. it couldn't be.

minutes afterwards, when alhaitham rolled away from the puddle of your combined release, he mulled over how jumbled up everything seemed. he ran a hand through his tousled locks, wondering how everything ended up to this. 

he was not blind enough to notice that in your vulnerability, despite eventually coming to him, he did not forget how dismissal you were upon the discovery of you both. it was true he did not hold the regard of the archon’s binding fate above all, that it was still very possible to be choked by the fated thread that connected you. still there was no denying that the gods go something right when they decided to match your soul to his. 

alhaitham sighed and cursed under his breath when he recalled how you were beneath him. you were the template of everything he’d aspired to have but could never withstand his pride and indifference. 

for the first time since scoffing at the prospect of discovering the love of your life through intimacy, he was willing to play with the idea of it possibly being the door to something more. in any event, he wasn’t ready to settle just yet- to think about a stable home with kids. and yet all he could sense was-

wanton.

 insanely erotic. 

insanely wanting everything from him and leaving nothing behind. 

you were, he realised, trained to fit what was needed. he could tell from the way you eyed him before making a move, as though gauging what type he wanted for his partner tonight, taking your role as it was and acting it all out on the bed. being who you needed to be. he supposed it made sense for someone who wasn’t your soulmate, who needed a routine over pushing the boundaries of predictability. 

 in his case, he was still temperamental; just as soon as you thought he wanted someone equally assertive in the play, he attacked you with a heated kiss and swallowed all of your complaints just like that. no wishy-washy lovemaking under dim lighting with you being a virgin and him being a gentleman. it was all lights from everywhere, cum on your face and glamorous fucking.

now, he paused for a moment, took a step backwards and tapped his fingers against sheets.

it was all about you today. all, everything, the entirety of the world. his analytical brain could not stop scrutinising you even further as he realised that despite all of that good screwing, you’d never said his name. 

you were loud, and loose with your body. hands to rove over his and draw him closer. now that he had many good rounds with you, alhaitham frowned when he knew that he could almost read you. you wouldn’t dare to claim him but he could read between the lines…

…the expressions you made during the span of the act.

sexy.

wanting him.

unrestricted.

that was all he needed.

he shuddered when he realised he could be hard again if he gave it too much thinking. that was when you recovered from your exhaustion, pushed away all the sheets he draped over your stained body and crawled over to him, bed dipping with each of your moves and him fixated by your sensual movement. you stopped in front of him, on your knees. inquisitive eyes meeting his, as your lips flexed into an innocent smile that was unmarred by such filthy acts earlier.

the sun would remain hang for a while longer, the world undisturbed by the actions of two. there was still time to make sense of it all. clear a path of clarity for you both to finally address what was between you.

alhaitham shook away the exhaustion and pushed you back into the bed, throwing one leg over his shoulder before ramming into you ruthlessly. the heat consumed him, licking up his veins and gushing madly in his urgently pumping heart. as he looked at how you writhed underneath his body and he knew you mewled for more. that was when you made that expression again, one that was mixed with pleasure and want only for him and getting more than what you asked for.

but you’d come to him and for now he’d remind you why that was the best decision of your life.

it had taken effort, more so on alhaitham’s part than yours, to peel you away from the bed. he dug somewhere deep to carry both you towards the bathroom. a shower was out of the question. though he refused to admit it, that last bought of passion had worn him out. 

what he did utter, was what kind of wonders a hot bath could do for aching muscles. 

and to that you had to agree. 

sprawled across, with legs open to either side of his, the two of you were more than welcome to the low hanging mist of heat that surrounded the bathroom. it had taken a bit of manoeuvring to decide on a level of comfort. the two of you new each other’s body quite intimately but this was a new stage to explore. alhaitham took up much of the space, he also conveniently owned it, so negotiation began and ended with him. 

now he was content, grumbling and complaining about a past memory as he leaned back against the edge. with a low hum, he stroked at the water lapping at your stomach. your heart hitched but you refrained from flinching as his breath dusted your ear,” feeling better?”

his chin was damp and still managed to tickle the shell. yet you followed it, rolling your hair into his inquisitive nose. “mhm. can remember the last time i enjoyed a bath like this.” showers were efficient and you craved the contained heat and steam that embraced your body. but this was a different kind of comfort that you gratefully sank deeper into. 

seemingly unable to resist and hardly insatiable hands reached for you, tweaking nerves and arousing sensitivity. biting through a gasp, your nails bit into his muscled thighs. his voice was rough, worn down to a decibel above hoarse,” perhaps we can weasel this into our future discussion?”

your lips pursed. right the conversation you had meant to be having before you’d all but jumped the man. alhaitham hardly seemed miffed though. he wielded the word ‘arrangement’ like it was both an offering and an escape. there were a lot of things to talk about, even morso now with new revelations. you had resigned yourself to that after he’d wringed your third orgasm out of you. the man had to carry you to your destination, for now you were at his mercy. 

a blessing-curse as it was a necessary battle to address, even if it felt like an uphill one. it felt like a reasonable distraction as you leaned for ward to reach for the washcloth. alhaitham was patient through your half-hearted scrubbing as you collected your thoughts. 

“what i had with ka- my previous partner was easy.”

‘because they weren't your soulmate’ hung between the both of you but fortunately alhaitham did not voice it. 

setting the cloth aside, you leaned back and stretched your body out. if a man was going to run you a hot bath, the least you could do was enjoy it. 

“i never believed in any of the one true orgasm propaganda. because if a relationship is built solely on that, whats the point of love?” you scoffed bitterly. it festered the idea that anything could happen, but the moment you fell back in bed together it was all mended and well. it was bullshit, a fantasy with no precedence. 

you weren't an expert on love, but you knew enough to know that people need more than the warmth of a bed against their back to make them happy. 

“...your parents?”

you didn't know what was funnier, that he would assume such a cliche reason for your deferment or how unsure the confident man sounded as he stepped into undiscovered territory. 

“no, my parents are actually happily married.”

“oh.”

“but they're not soulmates.”

“so they never…”

“no, they did. or at least my mom did. neither of them really talk about it much anymore. but i know that she found her soulmate before getting into a relationship with my dad.”

the water shifts as alhaitham sits up intrigued. 

“she was vague but it was obvious that what she had before was the best time of her life. she said it made her feel fulfilled in ways she couldn't describe.”

your mind conjured the memory of living in a household where both parents were there to dote on you with affection. a home where you slept soundly because echoed affection and not hate. you grew up on the foundation of love without fate. 

“but with my dad … she said it was so obvious. just right in front of her , not some astral sign that she had to decipher. she loved the way he spent his mornings holding her to help power him through the day and how he spent his nights remembering her as if she never left. with her soulmate it was easy yes, but with my dad it felt like something worth achieving.”

you went quiet for a moment as your eyes traced the dewy condensation clinging to the tiled walls. for years you backed up your aversion to fated couples with scholarly evidence and witness statements. but this was one of the few times you brought your past into it.

the ‘passion’ your mentor needed from you was always hidden in the truth of it. and the anger. the faces of your past who called your family a farce. the stories they told to excuse why your parents had just ‘settled’ … for you. 

“i guess … it just made me believe that life was more than an orgasm.”

“but you still like sex,” alhaitham replies evenly.

you can't help but laugh at the low drawl. “yeah, yeah i do. i like sex with you and i liked it before too. i’ll admit, its a bit overwhelming at first but my mom was right. satisfying the body is important  but the mind is equally as paramount to remain in balance with yourself.” the water trickled back into the pool when your shoulder rose in a shrug. “you’re a whole person without your soulmate. so you should be at peace with yourself before offering it to someone else.”

“a wise woman. i think i’d like to meet her.”

“i think she’d want to meet you too.”

it was a losing battle in vain to hold back a smile as you turned to face him. alhaitham’s hands followed the motion, assisting and aiding stability. he met you in a kiss as heated as the bath water. tongue flicking at his lips, your hand dips beneath the water in search of his.

his eyes narrow in juxtapose to the soft widening of your mouth to form an ‘o’. shifting your hips into his touch, you lean in for another kiss. the implication was enough to answer as he swallowed the taste of it.

you went to pull away, content to accept his practised caress but alhaitham had other ideas, determined to mould your fingers into one as he slid them against your walls for a slick ride. the flesh was tender and sensitive but you still sang eagerly for him.

he accepts your nuzzles, allowing you to contain the soft moans and giggles into the damp crook. he took you along for the ride, showing you his trade and hinting at your weak points until you were panting in tune with his pulse.

alhaitham taps his forehead against yours, non-verbally brushing against permission with his cock against your entrance. he gave you a brief control of the reign, handling the balance as you fully seated yourself on his lap, chock full of cock.

the pace was steady, the environment too fickle for the frantic and erratic sessions you had come to now. you were still helpful, however, squeezing and sucking in his girth whenever he dared to pull out. there wasn’t a rush but the passion swelled undeterred by the change.

alhaitham’s grunts in surprise when you meet his upward thrust, hips grinding against the head. motivated, you did it again, and again. and again. until his hands clasped down at your waist.

“i agree the sex is good. but even after the orgasm fades away, i find myself still curious about you.” the rhythm remained unhurried, but it got deeper with increased precision. you gave up on the fight to stay upright, slumping contently against his chest to enjoy the ride as pleasure builds at the base of your spine.  eyes pinching at the sensation until it overtook you, the orgasm washing through you fluidly.

“i want to learn more, if you’ll let me.”

whimpering pitifully, your body flowed with the waves as he continued his onslaught in search of completion. a hand grasped at your hip, rooting you as his own circled, cock still buried deep in your hot channel. just when overstimulation threatened, he let out a long groan, body stiffening before collapsing beneath you.

fortunately, his head caught the rim, nestling him there to keep him from slipping further into the lukewarm water. “hm, sweetness,” the nickname was doused with lethargic thoughts and tinged with praise, and it warmed you from within. his hand found your chin, turning it to him to receive his lips. “but let’s agree that we have a bit more chemistry to address before we can think of anything other than sex.”

opening your eyes seemed like too much work, but your mind was inquisitive if not a touch mischievous.

“or we can handle that now if you want? i can always shower again after.” it was a bluff, you could barely find strength in your thighs to squeeze, let alone stand.

the water muffles the firm slap against your bum but the intention was there.

“that’s enough out of you.”

“just to set the record straight. are you cooking for me because i'm your soulmate or just to prove that this isn't special treatment by being your soulmate?” it was both a jest and the most you’d spoken in confirmation of the decided fact detailing your fate. 

alhaitham’s voice was dry, though he chose not to turn to face you. “i’m thinking about poisoning said food. how does that factor into your theories?”

unable to resist, you laugh. if the way the muscles of his shoulders lax at the sound, it was safe to assume he discovered the hidden humour as well. 

after the bath, the two of you had lounged atop the comforter for nearly half an hour while your bodies dried. most of it was spent recuperating, the other part chatting over meaningless details of your life. you were just delving into the histories of the scarlet king when your stomach intervened. 

you would have been satisfied with takeout, but unsurprisingly alhaitham was picky about his tastes. he moved first, rolling out of bed to pick out a pair of sweats before tossing you a second pair and one of his shirts. 

he now stood comfortably sauteing vegetables shirtless. you should be concerned about the popping oil so close to his exposed skin, but if he didn't have any complaints you weren't going to dissuade the view. 

it served as a perfect conversation starter anyway. 

“do you work out?”

“what makes you ask?” he asked blandly.

your gaze roved over the sewny muscle and healthy girth wrapped around his biceps. if he was part of the matra, you could probably find some reason. but he was the head of the mahatma and that left you with loose ends. 

but of course, the bastard wanted you to admit the real reason for your curiosity. 

you waved dismissively at his body even though he couldn't see the gesture,’' you’re mildly fit,” you offered, trying to sound disinterested by it all. 

but alhaitham was wiser, if the smirk on his lips was anything to go by as he twisted his head to regard you. “there is a gym downstairs. i sometimes drop in when the stress gets too high.”

he must be a high risk stressor if the way his muscle jumped even at the slightest flex was anything to go by. 

“i … suppose that’s a healthy outlet.”

“granted, things are different now.” he didn't give you the time to speculate. “i have you to help.”

but he didn't stop there, moving the pan away from the fire before approaching. the very arms you admired bracketed your hips as he leaned over you.

“i can pretend you’re another roommate. get you in for free.”

then the bastard wiggles his brows, proving that he knew where your line of thought was going. 

rolling your eyes you pressed your palm against his chest, but he didn't budge. 

“is that the only perk you can expect for sleeping with the grand scribe?”

alhaitham watched you quietly before dropping his head to steal a kiss. he nibbles at your still sore, puffy lips, one, twice and pulls away. “among other things.”

shaking your head, you retaliate by kicking out to firmly smack his retreating ass with your foot.

“care to explain?”

“stay the night and i might.”

it’s not often a sharp cry from your own mouth is what shatters the haze of sleep as you rouse. it’s disorienting at first, because you can’t recall any bad dream to shock you out of the realm of slumber. 

awareness comes to lip a foamy sea, each sense lapping at your nerves lazily. the first wave is the brush of sheets against your shoulder, followed by the warm glow of the sun blanketing your eyelids, the fine hairs littering your body standing at attention in call of the sound of the soft gasps bubbling past your lips. 

the final wave crashes through your disorientation as you inhale sharply, eyes bareilly recognizing alhaitham’s head below your navel. there is a low rumbling snicker in his hum as he acknowledges your wakefulness. a chiding tsk comes at its heel when your hip bones press into his palms. he’s nice about the first warning, pressing you back down firmly, propped on his elbows with his face between your legs. 

your voice is trapped somewhere between a whine and a whimper, voicebox crackled with sleep as you try to sound out his name. 

“for a moment, i thought i might be out of practice.”

it’s a jest of course, because he was the last person who would ever be out of rhythm when it came to strumming the tune of your arousal. the humming vibrations pluck more chords, shooting the pleasure through your clit and up your spine. it was long decided that the man was a menace, but this just proved there was no point and time safe from him.

it was certainly a lifetime to look forward to.

his tact is equally messy and refined, yet still a league above sloppy as he took your clit into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive tip. he lets out a grunt when you dig half-moon crescents into the meat of his shoulder, a promising accompaniment to the red lines still streaking his back. 

a familiar sensation coiled at your navel and curled your toes. alhaitham reacts to the song of his name, pushing your hips up further so he could thrust his tongue inside you. 

alhaitham expressed gentleness as he pressed a lingering kiss to your hip before kissing his way up the path to your chest until he reached your nape. you quiver at the ticklish touch, breath spilling from your lips. when alhaitham laughs, low and quiet, you can taste his self-satisfaction. 

he returns to the top of the bed, curling you into his body heat before you could protest. he’s getting too good at reading you, already prepared when your mouth opens wide in a yawn. his hand slides into the weight of your hair, coaxing you steady onto the road you were already headed down.

your brain is too foggy to come up with anything more than indistinct mumbles against his skin, voice muffled by the promise of sleep to form audible clarity. alhaitham continues to stroke your hair until your breathing shifts and you begin to store softley.

you come to several hours later, plastered comfortably to the fine threaded comforter and the man who paid for it. part of you was still trying to drift back down to wakefulness unassisted. without the familiarity of your home, there was no confident recollection of where your phone could be. 

from what you could tell, the sun had fully spilled into the bedroom, eating away at the shadows and teasing the fraying edges of morning. the scrunch of your nose and twist of your head is what alerts alhaitham as his hand comes down to card through your hair.

“ ‘seems i wasn’t the only one who had my fill at breakfast. tuckered you out, hm?”

you're quiet for a moment longer, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. you blame the languid lax of your body on your slow comebacks as not even a sound of defiance comes to your aid. even the thought of it is whisked away by the press of a kiss to the curve of your jaw. 

grinning, you shift onto your elbows to stare up at him. 

“must be nearing lunch then because i’m starting to get hungry again.”

alhaitham’s brow raises in question and you feel the spark rear its head again.

“for food, ‘haitham.”

“food is trapped by it’s scope of nutritious value which can come in many forms.”

“i want steak.”

“spoiled already.”

“you haven’t complained yet,” you groused as you shifted around and sat up. a squeak leaves you as you stretch your arms above your head. softer you ask,” is that a problem?”

the two of you had circled the discussion of expectations last night but there was still much to be addressed. you weren’t seeking out a happy ever after, but you weren’t going to deny the sweet promise of the orgasms he could provide with a simple flick of his tongue. 

gnawing on your bottom lip, you observed alhaitham as he reclined lazily on the bed with his arms bent behind his head. you hardly knew him for seventy-two hours and you were already thinking more about him than you did kaveh. it was both frightening and thrilling. 

your fingers twisted uneasily in the upturned edge of the blanket,”when we first met you said..”

“—when we first met i had been trying to hide away in the port away from the akademiya and yet found another pretty little student under my nose. and a petulant one at that.”

you open your mouth to speak but he continues.

“then we proceeded to have the best sex of our lives and had but a few moments to come to terms with it. i stand by what i said then, i wasn’t planning to prepare a proposal. i did not have any expectations for you then and nor do i now.”

you chew at your lip as he speaks, a tumble of trepidation bursting at the seam. he was speaking honestly; words truier than your own conciousness. though it felt jarring to your current reality as you soaked in the same bath, skin plastered against one another.

it was funny how easy it was to feed into sanity of actuality.  for a moment, you would have traded the future for the present of this moment.

but alhaitham continued on, drawing you back down from the billowing steam blowing smoke in the mirrors of your mind

“expectation breed misconstrued limitations. we’re led to believe all our lives that soulmates are the ends of all. but it should still be a choice. you are more than just an orgasm. though i will admit that you are a rather exquisite one.” alhaitham tsks softly as his thumb wipes away a stray tear. 

“so we won’t build—something—off what we accomplish between the sheets. if you want to explore more then we will do so out of bed.”

it wasn’t a promise but an extended offer. he was willing to see what could come of this, if you wanted it too.

alhaitham eventually gets you out of his bed for the third time since you entered his apartment. he tells you he wants to take you out in the port, wanting to show you more of what ormos had to offer. and you weren't planning on denying him but the question of clothing had outlived its excuses. 

staying inside had abandoned the use of undergarments but you weren't as daring in public. you met in the middle by borrowing another set of his clothes to see you to your own flat, with the intention of packing an overnight bag to see you through the rest of the weekend. 

it would be another day of no expectations, just wandering curiosity. 

you had just stuffed the last of your laundry into one of his spare tote bags when you finally entered the main area to find him waiting by the front door. alhaitham settled for casual again, clothed comfortably in a loose shirt and pants. his face a vision of calculated boredom as he twirled a jingling set of keys around his ring finger.

it would have been a passable notion, had a particular ornament not caught your attention as it swung freely. you recognized the minature furry beast as the mascot of the kshahrewar school. but that wasn't all that plagued familiarity.

with a hand at your side, alhaitham escorted you through the entrance before turning to lock the door. it wasn't until he stuffed it into his pocket that your curiosity broke through the surface.

"close with the kshahrewar?"

the man hummed, more of an acknowledgement than a question though you took it as permission to continue.

"the keychain. it has a lion."

alhaitham glanced down at his pocket as an afterthought,"oh. its my roommate. he leaves his keys around. it happened to be the closest so i took it."

you had a feeling there was more to that, but you also recognized that they were all adults.

still ... there was something about it.

"are you going to wait here to return it to him or are you coming?"

rolling your eyes, you shed the trickling interest as you quickened your step to enter the elevator.

alhaitham played the part of a patient chaperone until you arrived in sumeru city. he assured you there, however, that he had more than enough to keep himself occupied while you freshened up at home.

with the confidence that he would stay out of sight while you gathered your things, you prepared to give the man who had both made you food and made you laugh in equal measures the chance you’d given anyone else interested to get to know you. 

you always knew port ormos had a lower density of students. partially because of the fare it took to make it here, leaving only ambitious researchers to tally the costs. you only bothered for a quiet drink, but alhaitham convinced you that there was even more to offer.

lunch consisted of cheap sandwiches and walks along the harbour. together you filled each other in on snippets of your lives, alhaitham clearing up quite a bit about the rumours surrounding his name.

“i still can’t believe they considered you for a sage role. no offence.”

alhaitham threw you an insincere glare and took another mouthful. he chewed over his thoughts then spoke, “it was a rash decision on all parts to fill the sudden vacuum.”

right … the ethics scandal that had unseated four sages during your second year. there was still plenty of speculation about the root of the problem, but the institution as a whole seemed to sweep the mess under the rug. it felt like it had been over in a blink of an eye, though the schools who had lost their seat had been in a bit of a scrabble at first.

alhaitham had to have just recently graduated at the time. you jest, but it was a high seal of accomplishment to even be recommended, least alone actually chosen.

you made a vague gesture with your food,” and the almighty alhaitham felt himself too far above the lowly displies.”

he scrutinises you with a squint,”you’re sounding oddly alike to my roommate.”

alhaitham had only mentioned the mysterious man twice, but you gauged that the relationship wasn’t rainbows and butterflies. though as much was expected from two grown men sharing a living space. 

“but no, i just don’t enjoy delegating.”

you snort, recalling just how much the man enjoyed giving you instructions over the last few days. 

to this, he grinned. 

rolling your eyes, you stepped into his path to nudge him with your shoulder, only to have him return the sentiment and remain in your space. the two of you walked comfortably together, bodies brushing without friction. 

“i suppose in a way it saved us grief. you truly would have been insufferable.”

“you graduate this year, right?”

“yep, as soon as i finish this thesis.”

he hums noncommittally. while you had dumped your ideals on him, you had refrain from discussing its interwovenness in your research. while his opinion would no doubt be insightful, you felt it was something that needed to rely on your resolution alone. 

“well, i doubt your sage plans to retire anytime soon. so what are your goals after?”

you can’t help but laugh at the notion. there had been times that you’d come close to making her wish she had. 

still the future, the part outside of the obvious, wasn’t something you’d planned for much. there were promising fields growing in time-sensitive commodities. you had thoroughly enjoyed partnering with the amurta students to design efficiency products to help preserve the future by learning from the past. 

it was something you didn't mind sharing. alhaitham was patient while you delved into different projects you had accumulated over the years, mentioning your favourites and less desired. when you finished, he was quiet, face contemplative before eventually speaking. 

“i have an …. acquaintance who graduated from the amurta. he specialises in rainforest preservation, but he might have better insight.”

you smile, a little touched that he’d offer. 

“yeah sure. you can give me his contact and i’ll reach out.”

“tighnari has a habit of not responding to emails. likes to use the excuse of poor reception.”

your brain short circuits. 

alhaitham was a notorious name, but you needed additional evidence in order to weed him out from the rest.

but tighnari. 

you didn't have to have a particular interest in biology to have known about him. 

alhaitham’s gaze flickers to your face briefly at your silence, expression comically dubious with unshrouded judgement. 

“are you …blushing?” he groans low and notably exhausted. “please don’t tell me you’re one of those fans.” 

the way he says it is with such thinly veiled disgust that you can't help but be offended. 

pursing your lips, you press your finger against his chest, “he’s a new-age genius, haitham. it’s hard not to admire that.”

and so what if you had sat in on a few interest seminars before regulations were put in place to limit the seats to amurta only students. the man was a legend. 

“he’s a nerd.”

“were all nerds.”

he rolls his eyes but does not dispute that. when he resumes his step, you file in behind. 

you keep pace quietly,

then can’t help but mutter.

“you’re still going to introduce me, right?”

alhaitham makes a show of lengthening his steps and you can't help but laugh.

he keeps you involved from early afternoon until the light begins to darken on the horizon. the conversation flowed from studies to hobbies, infiltrating the critics of literature and tackling the fears of heights. it was a comfortable exchange with mounting intrigue and curiosity until the interruption your stomachs fractured the small dome you’d both built under reality. 

it was you who came up with a place for dinner, eager to share a bit more of yourself in the language of food. hole-in-the-wall restaurants always had a mixed bag of customers, but you were confident enough that the two of you would manage a fair amount of privacy. 

having no reason to decline, alhaitham neatly shuffled into the booth across from you, attention drawn to the small carvings etched into the wooden panels of the walls. the doodles varied in levels of imagination, but the central theme mirrored the depiction of the local legend of the aranara. 

the restaurant itself, the vintage lyre, prided itself on hosting a cosy atmosphere that welcomed and cultivated musical talents. the music tonight was a smooth lullaby hanging off the notes of a moon-veiled night. 

“i’ve been here before,” alhaitham eventually supplied. the pinch of his brow gave the impression that it had not been for awhile. 

the dim lighting took some getting used to, but you came to appreciate the effort it took for others to peer at neighbouring tables. the ambiance was meant to encourage auditory senses oversight, coupled with the light green afternoon to mimic a forest. 

it was quaint and worth the trip when you could spare the time to get out of the city. 

speaking of—”what made you leave sumeru city? the commute isn’t terrible but wouldn’t working for the akademiya make it more convenient to stay close.”

alhaitham kept his gaze on the menu as he spoke,”what i do can be completed remotely when needed. i still do a fair amount of research and prefer the distance.”

your brow arched quizzically,” seems a bit hard to ‘scribe’ if youre too far away to hear.’’

“what exactly do you think my job entails?”

shrugging, you slide your own menu aside, confident in your order. “i dunno … transcribing meetings? overseeing the flow of information.”

alhaitham threw you a dry look,” i’m honoured you think so highly of me. i’m afraid the job isn't as luxurious as you think. i’m not required to be present at most meetings, nor is my input taken into account.” he continued with a short laugh,” my interests are more rooted in my research. the job is merely a title of convenience.”

you were still learning about the man, but there had to be more filling in the gaps he left open. 

“so why not solely put your time and resources into just research. you wouldn't ever need to go to sumeru city if you didn't want to.”

“because my job gives me access to those resources.”

looking up, he sighs quietly at the perplexion on your face before sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“by controlling the flow of information, i'm also aware of it. i am given access in order to manage and archive it. i provide my time and make the most of it while i’m there.”

a quiet ‘huh’ escapes your lips, both impressed by the simple genius and his willingness to share such a thing. truly, it was an ideal position for someone seeking knowledge. most people would soak in the shallow prestige of the role but alhaitham dug into the soil for the true treasure. 

you withhold your follow up question at the arrival of the waiter. alhaitham gestures for you to go first before placing his own order. when they leave he nods, encouraging the inquiry. 

“so you have no interest in going for a sage role?”

“not the slightest,” he stated, exhaling slowly. “they pay me enough to mind my own. i’m content with the relationship we have.”

you thank the waiter when the return with the drinks. 

“at least you aren’t scared of commitment.”

alhaitham doesn't laugh but his eyes shine with mirth. “when there is a benefit, yes, i’m willing to go all in.” he then sipped his drink, pursing his lips before giving the contents a swirl with the straw and trying again. “at the moment our goals align and that’s enough for me.”

“because you’re just a feeble scholar,” you echo, surprising yourself by recalling his words from that night. 

“feeble and handsome,” he intoned mildly. 

the question itches at your throat. one certain to spiderweb the delicate glass you had both enjoyed yourself under, but the point of this weekend was to test it after all. 

“and how does a soulmate fit into your other goals?”

alhaitham sat back in his seat,”you would fit where you feel comfortable,” he replies, not bothering to ghost your title. for a moment he was quiet, head cocked to the side as he regarded you. though you couldn't see the intricate detail in his eyes, you imagine he’s settling into that calculating role. the one that ran circles in under a second, running through algorithms and scenarios before coming to a conclusion. 

“ i don't plan my life around soulmates.”

though it likely wasn't intended, the slight felt directed at you. in response, your nose flared slightly, a treacherous lump manifesting in your throat. “ i don’t plan anything around soulmates either. i live my life and expect whomever i'm with to do the same.”

“so why do you assume everyone else doesn't have the same inclination?”

“i don't speak for anyone else, “ you defended tersely.

“no, but you have a way of trying to construct your walls around your ideology. it makes it rather hard to feel welcomed.”

“i’m not trying to offer any promises,” you utter crisply. you're slowly regretting leading back into the conversation, trying to force your bitterness away. it would be so much easier if this man just was not your soulmate. the implication of him being your fated match continued to flare up your natural response to deflect despite your interest. 

alhaitham regarded you quietly before asking,” what do you wish for in return?”

the question gave you pause. you vehemently protested what you did not want. not the fabricated life predestined the day you were born or the perfect cookie cutter life at home. you’d spent so long filling detailing one side of the list without giving much thought to the other. 

what did you want?

your gaze lingered distractedly on the slow condensation rolling down the side of your up. the path was determined, always downward, but often one droplet would be pulled in one direction or the other. it was a fixed destination, but the abrupt coming together and leaking apart left you wading in the sea of possibilities. 

“i want to graduate,” you began, thoughts already drifting to the fresh excitement of meeting tighnari and cultivating your minor research into preservation. 

“i’d like to travel … maybe to liyue.” you’d learned about the lantern festivals while in your early years from an exchange student who had made loose plans to meet up if you ever went. 

“and i want a pet.” maybe a dog or perhaps a cat. your landlord hated anything that wasn't human. 

when you looked up, alhaitham was watching you patiently. eyes blank but open. when you didn't speak further, he took up the mantle. 

“well, i would like to discover new knowledge. crack open a new dataset and challenge what we have noted.” his dull nails tapped against the table,” thanks for asking by the way.”

unable to resist, you crack a smile. slowly he returns it. 

“i’d also like to travel but towards the desert. the akademiya overlooks the value there but i think more is hidden under the sand.” he stops, thoughtful. “not sure about pets, never asked for them growing up. but tighnari would often stress out our resident advisor with his terrariums. it was an irrational fear. tighnari would never let something grow out of his control.”

they were all loose whims with no timeline or point of direction. eventually, you’d both grow old and reflect on your choices, but for now the variables were flexible. what you made of them. 

but alhaitham wasn’t finished. 

warmth bloomed in your belly as his hand reached out, fingertips brushing against the back of your hand until you turned it over and offered your palm. from there he slid through the gaps, taking your hand in his. 

“but right now, i’d like to date you. spend more days like this and see what comes of it.”

whatever it may be with no expectations or obligations. 

untethered desire and curiosity. 

“i mean i’d also like to take you to bed again later but i thought you’d appreciate a more vague response.”

a huff of a laugh blew past your lips before you could stop it. there was no denying the alhaitham had a bizarre effect on you. he was blunt and clung to the density of rationale to keep him rooted. it was so ordinary human, a trait you would find in anyone. yet with him, you couldn't explain why it made your head feel dizzy and breath hard to catch.

as true as it was the night you met, you were attracted to alhaitham. he was as fit as he was intelligent. factors that you had not been actively seeking, but if you had, he would have been an interesting swipe. 

as it went, he was here before you now, propositioning you in away that made you feel equally safe and wanted. 

your food hasn't arrived yet, but you felt like you could enjoy more of opportunities like this, tucked away from society.

“how do you feel about carawan ribat?”

alhaitham’s grip flexed in tandem with is pinched brow, but he pushed through the hesitation,”it’s hot but street food is good.”

“that’s good to know, i’ve never been. i suppose i’ll have to leave the planning to you then.’

alhaitham’s slow grin sent your gut aflutter with treacherous little butterflies. you were grateful for the table separating you both, hardly confidently in your own ability to keep your hands to yourself. the shadows of the restaurant were convenient but too much action would bring attention. 

he was daring, however, bringing your joined hands to his mouth for a brief kiss. your skin bloomed with heat at the touch, lip bitten at the slow drag of his lips before he set them down. his thumb circled the spot of the kiss, massaging the imprint into your skin. 

“it would be best to go after your dissertation. we can spend a week out there if you’d like.”

you would like that very much, eager to explore what was between you. 

but for now, a mischievous grin pulls at your lips as you return a similar gesture with your own thumb.

“ —but.”

alhaitham groans, already familiar enough to be sceptical of the saccharine words dripping from your tongue.

a smart man indeed. 

“only if you keep your promise to introduce me to tighnari.”

he arched an eyebrow again but his snarkiness was absent as he countered your offer with another; unbearably smug to boot. 

” what if i put cyno on the table?”

you blanche. cyno was another name that needed no clarification. it made sense that is alhaitam had been part of tighnari’s class, he would have also been in the same one as the general mahamantra. 

weakly you shake your head, prepared to give up that whole generation. one look at your face and alhaitham threw his head back.

his answering laugh resonates deeper than anything you’d ever felt. 

late into the night, the two of you had lay awake, soaking in the warm even breaths fanning across one another’s skin. if there was one trait you had come to appreciate about alhaitham, was his ability to hold conversation. whether it was a challenge or a discussion, he had an art of feeding into dialogue in a way that prompted you to respond. 

in the privacy of his room, he whispered promises. so many detailed explanations of what he was doing and would do to you. it was a product of desire and even greater inspiration, indirectly prodding you.

the next morning, you decide to return the favour.

alhaitham rises early, but you’d fallen asleep with a plan and woke with a purpose. 

“haven’t you ever wanted to sit back? let someone else do the talking for you?”

his answering hum is low, already too familiar, but ends with an undertone of questioning. it was the second time waking together, pressed against each other’s body heat and soaking it in. 

alhaitham’s breath remains even despite the slow running of your hands stroking the length of his thighs, settled comfortably between them. your fingers trace invisible lines, though you imagine them as threads tethering your souls together. it’s the only way it can be explained how a simple touch makes yours tremble.

“if i left it to others, nothing would get sone.” there is humour in his voice, hidden amongst the valley of curiosity. he’s never witnessed you like this. focused solely on him but in a leading role. he is deftly stripped of his sleeping clothing, yours falling cohesively behind. understanding is more prevalent now and he goes to slide touch up your sides, but you stop him.

“just let me do this for you.”

practiced control can only assist for so long before he begins to feel his muscles jump as your caress smooths over his abdomen. he wants to look, the need to grapple for the reins, yet he can’t resist the urge to sag under your petting. lips brush over his chest, riding the soft thudding beneath his sternum. and your hands, always moving, never stopping; arching over his broad shoulders, following the curve of his hip, tickling the dip of his collarbone.

“sweetness-…” you quietly tell him to hush, but there is no need. the gentle glide of teeth against the skin of his throat already bowing him before the altar of submission. alhaitham’s breath catches, swallowing thickly under the soft kiss they press there. a velvety groan keens highly, and your sinful delicious lips twist into a playful smile as you pull him under.

nearly half an hour later, alhaitham is the one rendered boneless as you grin with glee at his state. he makes a grumbling protest, pawing at your smugness. his efforts double when you evade him efficiently, going as far to roll to your feet as you scoop up a stray shirt with your heel and pull it over your head.

it was nice to not be the one left listless for once as you calm alhaitham’s attempts to coax you closer with the promise of a quick return and caffeine. he lets you go with a huff, your laughter coating the halls as you shuffle towards the kitchen. 

the morning sun was just beginning to filter through the shadow space between the window blinds, giving the stretch of the common space a dim glow. there were still plenty of shadows hiding while the could, still clinging to the coolness left from night. 

they were all familiar to you after a weekend.

except for the huddled one already taking your place by the coffee machine. 

the shriek escapes your lips at the same time the figure turns, but it was too late to realise the stranger wasn’t one at all. the familiar tangle of golden hair and stupefied expression. 

“kaveh…?” 

the facts stack loudly as they click into the place, the absolute fabled fantasy turned reality of your life finally coming in full circle. because of course your soulmate was the infamous incorrigible housemate of your ex-bedmate. to think that kaveh’s insistence on sparing you the cold front by staying at your place was the whole reason you’d never met.

you wanted the laugh at the audacity fate had in playwriting your fate. 

kaveh was just beginning to mouth the start of your name when the kitchen light sprang on and you both froze, startled by the additional overhanging stark glow.

alhaitham stood in the doorway, sweatpants hung low on his lips and fist curled in preparation for a fight. his gaze swept over the pair of you, and the implication that he’d rushed so quickly at the sound of your fright twisted something in you that you weren't sure how to comprehend. 

eventually, his fist uncurled when he found no threat in your vicinity. it was kaveh who bounced back first, eyes widening when he tried to take it all in at once. “wait … you two? how did you even meet…?” realisation colored his face. “no….”

you can see the indecisiveness in those vermillion eyes, face calculated as he juggles the visible evidence with his own disbelief. apparently knowing parts of the party went a long way with assisting critical thinking. 

and still he wanted to be absolutely sure before accepting the reality unfolding in front of him. 

you watch as his gaze roves over the wrinkled- very much not your button up. unable to be patient, your lips part to help him out but he holds up a hand instead, clearly trying to process his thoughts. 

you barely flinch as alhaithamn’s chest warmed your back. he reached around for his coffee, returned to his otherwise unbothered state despite his half dressed appearance.

kaveh catalogues this all with barely restrained cynicism.

“as untoward it would be for me to judge you for jumping into another bed after only a week—my roommate nonetheless—”

“you hopped first,” you supplied dryly, already not enjoying the direction. pointing out that you didn’t know they were roommates would hardly work in your graces. 

“—ah ah! this is my emotional turmoil not yours.”

you roll your eyes but gesture for him to continue. 

he makes a show of it too, shedding his wide eyed disbelief for a painted sneer at alhaitham. 

“and you, ruffian. couldn’t wait to get rid of me for your nefarious acts. what happened to the no overnight guest rule?”

“that was rule for you. this is my house. i do what i want,” alhaitham drawls smoothly. 

you can’t help but snort earning you a much deserved glare. 

“right, so i’m supposed to just believe you two had such a wonderful time that you not only stayed the night but exchanged clothes?”

“....kaveh”

“—uh-uh still not done. and my roommate of all people. to think i got you used to such class just for you to fall into the grasp of barbarism.” 

alright, you were getting equally tired of the dramatics and the interruptions. 

his gaze returns to your attire then over to alhaitham’s no doubt bored face.  

all the shades of kaveh and alhaitham’s dynamic begin to blend for you, giving you a rather vivid perspective of them both. kaveh had always referred to his roommate in thinly veiled expletives, giving the impression of a crude arrangement. 

but from the lack of tension emitting from alhaitham, it was apparent that their ties ran deep enough to foster something tangible to keep them rooted together despite the odds. 

“you heathens are soul mates, aren’t you? naturally fate would hand me that plate.”

knowing you both to some degree, it shouldn’t be a surprise that kaveh was able to come to the conclusion. 

you’re just dumbstruck how he made it his problem 

his blonde fringe whisps across his face as he leaning closer, “i know how you are about soulmates. he must have locked you in this tower. blink once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘save me’.”

you let out a low, taut exhale. “kaveh, seriously?”

he leans away, mirroring your folded arms. “to think if i hadn’t discovered my own, this could have been a very different morning.”

his declaration gives you a pause. that was true. while you weren’t establishing anything permanent with kaveh, the convenience had started to grow on you. there was a real possibility that this could have been a very different morning. 

a realisation that alhaitham was taking oddly well. curious you crane your head up to gauge his stance on the matter, but all you received was a spare raised brow as he tilted his cup back to his lips. 

“which leads to one unfortunate conclusion. now i measure your fears, this really is the worst thing that could happen to me.”

alhaitham intercepts wryly, “i can guarantee you that what she just experienced was the very opposite.’’

you saw distaste colour kaveh’s features before they once more resumed an air of vexation as his attention darted to the silent party. 

“archons, you're going to be insufferable about this aren't you. and you're just going to let him?”

you could have shrugged, had the weight of alhaitham’s arms come to curl around your shoulder. 

“at least you’ll have to believe them when she says i’m better in bed. not that it was ever a debate.”

“so … this is your final theory.”

taking a deep breath, you nod, too nervous to speak.

it had taken you three more weeks of deliberation and near meditation to settle your wide ranging thoughts into a cohesive conclusion. along the way, you discovered more about yourself and eventually loosened the reins holding on to your future. 

the funny thing about taking your gaze off the future for a bit, allowed you to appreciate all the finer details of the present. along the way, your thesis became less about changing the perspective of others and more about discovering your own. 

your mentor gleans your paper once more. they spent the better part of an hour reading through your final report, offering her last thoughts before you sent it in. 

“i think this is the most complete your thoughts have been.”

the breath that leaves you sags the tension resting in your shoulders. for the first time since entering the office, you manage a small smile. the expression draws a similar one from your sage as they regards you evenly. 

“i never worried about your direction, archon knows the world tilts better when the axis is challenged. but i worried more about you. i felt that it was important that you took this in the correct stride if you were determined to make it your belief.”

they gives you a speculative look.

“something changed but i’ll accept it simply as it is for the better. if you’re sure that this is your final stance on the matter, than i’ll give it my approval.”

you think about your parents and their desire to make the most of what they had, continuing to reap the benefits of the future. 

the reality of it all wasn’t quite as easy or as romantic as you’d imagined as a child. you were sure your parents overcame many hardships to establish what they held now. 

what you and alhaitham had would never be like your parents. it could be better or maybe worse. 

what you did know, was that it was a choice. one you made and always dreamed of having. 

and that alone made it worth it all and half. 

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact fanfics #alhaitham genshin

[aceghosts]

And I try to move on, but I just can't let go

Summary: Rooney Shepard takes a missing person's case at the request of Rogue Amendiares; they do not expect the client to be their ex-boyfriend, Yorinobu Arasaka. Title comes from nightlife's fallback. Rating: Mature Warnings: Referenced Character Death (Specifically Jackie and Rooney's), Referenced Human Experimentation (Rooney), and I think that is everything. Let me know if I need to tag for anything else. Words: 5,198 Author's Note: Just wanted to explain: Rooney's original universe is Mass Effect. I've tried to blend part of the events of Mass Effect (not the aliens and reapers, but their pre-service history and similar events) into Cyberpunk 2077. I tried to fit it in as best I can, staying within the confines of the universe, but I've changed parts of canon. Tagging: @bbrocklesnar. @marivenah, @voidika, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @amalkavian, @onehornedbeast, @captastra, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @inafieldofdaisies, @vizarding, and @thedeadthree. I added everyone who liked this post; I hope it's okay that I tagged you. If you want to or don't want to be tagged, let me know.

AO3

Music blasts loudly as Rooney Shepard steps into the Afterlife, a deep frown on their face. Around them, patrons of the club shout, trying to make themselves heard over the music. Their head throbs, a headache forming as they head towards the bar. Why couldn’t this have been a holo call? Rooney supposes it must be an important missing person’s case if Rogue wanted to drag them down to the Afterlife. Glancing over to her booth, Rooney catches sight of Rogue holding court, already occupied with some merc. Could be a while before she’s ready to see them. They grab a stool at the bar, catching sight of themself in the reflection of the glass panels. In the neon green light, Rooney looks sickly pale, washed out. The dark circles under their eyes stand out prominently, a thousand-yard stare gazing back at them. If it were anyone else, Rooney would describe them as haunted, but they’re fine, nothing is wrong with them. They have to be fine.

A moment later, Claire is in front of them with a sympathetic smile as she places her hands down on the bar. “Here for work or play, Shepard?”

“Work.” I would never come here for relaxation, Rooney adds silently. Relaxation used to be nights building model ships with a decent beer. Or a night at some cheap dive bar with V, Jackie, Misty, and Vik, chatting and listening to classic rock. Now…Now, V is dying, and Rooney needs to help them find a cure. No matter what it personally costs them.

Claire nods, motioning over their shoulder. “Understood. Although, I think some hope that you might come in here for a night off.” They follow her gaze, towards a Corpo, sharing a table with two of his colleagues. He raises his beer in greeting before motioning to come over, all while giving Rooney a flirtatious smile. Not interested. Shaking their head, Rooney looks back to Claire. They weren’t really interested in anyone like that since…“I’ll get you your usual, Shepard, even though you look like you could use a beer.”

“Thank you.” As Claire goes to get their drink, Rooney breathes deeply. Focus, Rooney, Focus. They need to be focused, especially for a case.

She returns with their soda, sliding it towards them as she glances over towards Rogue’s booth. “Rogue is ready for you.” They nod, flicking the creds to her along with a good tip as they get off the stool. Rooney takes the drink with them, making their way over to Rogue.

Squama nods as they approach, with Rooney returning one of their own as he moves to let them pass. Behind him, Rogue lounges, faintly reminding Rooney of a Lioness from the old nature vids they used to watch as a child. She watches them carefully, despite her fairly relaxed posture. “Shepard,” She greets them with a fairly no-nonsense tone, motioning for them to sit.

“Rogue,” Rooney sits, placing their drink down on the table. They watch her carefully, knowing Rogue is one of the few people not to underestimate in Night City. You do not become Queen without disposing of a few pawns. Besides, Rooney is curious about why they are here. Normally, Rogue preferred to give them cases over the holo with a slightly mocking tone or have a client reach out to Rooney directly. It was the rare few that ever required Rooney to come to the Afterlife. 

“I have a job for you.”

Rooney raises an eyebrow, holding back a sarcastic response. “I assumed. Why meet in-person for this one?”

“This job requires…” Rogue pauses, looking away briefly as she searches for the right word, “discretion.”

As Rogue looks back at them, alarm bells ring in their mind. Adrenaline spikes as their heart beats faster. Rooney tenses, eyes scanning around the room for potential threats. Nothing good ever happens when someone mentions being discrete. They know all too well from their time in the military that it meant covering up dirty laundry, protecting the reputation of powerful people. And if anyone should find out the truth? God help them all. For all Rooney cares, someone else can have this case. “No.”

“No?”

Shaking their head, Rooney stands, on high alert, “I don’t want it. Give it to someone else.”

“Shepard, don’t be so dramatic,” Rogue rolls her eyes, “You haven’t even heard-.”

“Don’t care.” Right now, they’re getting the same bad feeling about this job as they had about V and Jackie’s gig with that idiot Dexter DeShawn. And look where those two ended up: Jackie six feet under and V well on their way there. “I’m not interested. You can find-.”

“Sit,” Rogue commands with more authority than some of their previous COs, “Hear me out, and if you still don’t want it after, I’ll find someone else.”

Leave. LEAVE! Their brain screams at them, but curiosity wins out in the end as Rooney sits back down.

“You weren’t my first choice for this gig, Shepard.”

“So, that means others passed on it.”

“You might not be my first choice, but I haven’t told anyone else about it yet,” She pauses for a second, “I hoped I could think of someone else for this. You won’t like the client.”

“Rogue, if you’re trying to convince me, you aren’t being very persuasive about it.”

“You’re only here because you get results. And the client needs results.” She emphasizes that last part, her voice taking on a serious tone. “The client needs you to find someone. Quickly and quietly.”

“A merc could do that for you.”

“They also need someone who isn’t the type to shoot first and ask questions later. They need someone who can handle this with a fine touch.”

“Again, I’m sure you could find a thousand mercs in this city who meet that requirement. I’m a PI.”

“Not as many as you would think,” she counters, her gaze drifting down to their left hand, the metal one forced on them by Arasaka, “You might find this case to be personal.”

They clench their fist, his voice in their head: “I hope you make him and Arasaka regret doing this to you”. Saburo Arasaka might be dead, but his shadow loomed large over Night City and Arasaka still. “Rogue, are you saying that Arasaka is going after someone who might need help getting away from them?”

Rogue smirks and Rooney finally feels like they’re catching on. “Maybe,” she shrugs, playing a slightly disinterested tone, “But you don’t want-.”

“I’ll take it.” Rooney has a terribly bad feeling about this job, and they’re playing right into her hands, but they won’t let someone suffer at the hands of Arasaka. What if this person could help V, saving them from the parasite in their head? Or what if it was V? Arasaka had already sent exterminators after V. Rooney wouldn’t put it past them to send someone after V, and who better to help V evade capture than a friend? This job might be a trap, but they’ve walked willingly into traps before and come out alive. Unscathed was a different matter.

“Good,” She flicks her wrist, sending them a text, their holo beeping a moment later. “You’ll find the details for your meeting with them in an hour and a half.” They frown, opening the message as they notice the meeting location set for the Ebunike with very little information on the client. “You’ll hear the exact details from the client. Wanted to keep some of the mystery.”

Dismissed. They get up, sighing. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.”

“I’m sure you will, Shepard.” As they leave, all Rooney can think is: What have they gotten themself into?

—

As soon as they leave the Afterlife, Rooney heads towards the docks on their black motorcycle, hoping they’ll have some time for surveillance. They do, but their preliminary surveillance leaves them with more questions than answers. Maelstrom guard the dock, providing little useful information. They hear the name “Grayson” a few times, who seems to be in charge of the operation. Rooney would need to investigate him more, but it wasn’t a good sign that he was working with the Maelstrom or Arasaka. Whoever Arasaka was looking for was in deep, deep trouble.

Deactivating their optical camo, Rooney emerges from the shadows, hands by their side as they approach the two Maelstrom guarding the entrance. They are hyper-vigilant, keeping an eye out with their electrified monowires at the ready. “Oh fuck!” One of the Maelstrom exclaims while they both jump at the sight of Rooney approaching. Rooney…wasn’t on good terms with the Maelstrom. While they preferred to use non-violent methods to resolve conflict, the Maelstrom weren’t always willing to listen. And Rooney was willing to use violence if necessary. “Shepard, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m not here for you two,” the two Maelstrom glance at each other, seemingly unconvinced by their words, “I’m here for a meeting with your boss on the Ebunike about a missing person’s case.”

Scratching his head, one asks, “Why should we fucking believe you?”

“Yeah,” the other crosses her arms, “What if this is a trap?”

If it was a trap, these two would have never seen it coming. “Call your boss and tell him Rogue Amendiares sent me. If he does not vouch for me, I’ll leave. Peacefully. You have my word.”

The Maelstrom sighs, his eyes alighting as he makes the call. “Grayson, we have someone for you. Says Rogue fucking sent them. Want us to send them home in a body bag?” He’s silent for a moment before his eyes flick back over to them. “It’s Shepard.” Silent again before sighing, “I’ll fucking bring them over”.

 The call ends, and he turns to Rooney. “Grayson vouches for ya. Says I’m supposed to fucking bring you to him like I’m a goddamn messenger boy.”

“Lead the way,” Rooney motions, “We both have a vested interest in having this end as soon as possible.”

The Maelstrom motions for Rooney to follow as his compatriot stays behind to guard the gate. Rooney follows him silently, making more mental notes as they weave their way through the docks. Lots of containers, stacked high, which meant lots of hiding places, a good and bad thing. Good as it meant plenty of places for Rooney to disappear to give them an edge. Bad as it meant their enemy also had the same opportunity to surprise them. They also noticed a few good vantage points, which would have been excellent for sniping if they brought their sniper rifle, Black Widow, with them. They had the sniper rifle with them during their whole military career, even during the Unification War. Eventually, they reach the Ebunike with the Maelstrom guide, climbing the stairs behind him. As they ascend, Rooney wonders who at Arasaka would need such a large, moored ship. It did not seem like a typical Arasaka meeting place. If anything, Arasaka liked to hold meetings in their buildings or businesses with which they had deep ties. Corps liked to be in control, and Arasaka was no exception.

Dread grows within them, like the blade of a guillotine hanging over a soon-to-be executed man. Reaching the center of the deck, Rooney finds Grayson with a few Maelstrom beside him. He looks relaxed, too relaxed for their liking. “Shepard, thank you for coming. I hope the Maelstrom weren’t too rude to you,” Grayson greets them with an unearned air of friendliness.

“They were fine.” No, the Maelstrom weren’t, but Rooney was not about to tip their hand. They glance around the dock, taking stock of their situation. Some more containers, but nothing that would be too useful. Too open for their liking. Keeping a professional tone, Rooney states, “As I said to your friend, Rogue Amendiares sent me. Told me you had a missing person’s case for me.”

“We do, Shepard.” The world drops out from under them as the door to a container opens behind them. Rooney’s eyes widen briefly at the sound of a familiar borg voice, their anxiety spiking. Instinct kicks in a second later, and Rooney spins around, activating their electrified monowire. The wire gleams brightly in the dim lighting of the ship’s deck, an audible hum of electricity in the air. Rooney tastes the electricity in their mouth, a side effect of their monowires. In the dark of the container, two red glowing eyes stare at them. A second later, they heard the sound of loud machinery, Adam Smasher, Yorinobu Arasaka’s personal bodyguard, stomping towards them. He laughs, sending a shiver down Rooney’s spine as he comes out into the light. “Put the fucking wire away, Shepard. I’m not here to kill you. Yet.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of them, and it’s fucking working. Rooney never liked Adam Smasher, too machine-like for their taste. Too cruel; too callous. They don’t put the wire down, wondering why Smasher would be on the Ebunike of all places. And then, the awful thought hits them like a rocket a second later. Oh no. Oh no. Smasher has to be here for V. Or he’s looking for Takemura, who will undoubtedly lead him straight to V. They cannot let that happen. V won’t stand a chance against Smasher. At least, not without some serious chrome, firepower, and allies. Rooney won’t fail V, not like how they failed to protect-. “What do you want?” Their tone is sharp as steel.

“Put the wire-.”

“I’m only going to ask you once,” Rooney cuts Smasher off, the Maelstrom and Grayson audibly gasping at their audacity, “What. Do. You. Want.”

The tension is thick in the air with Rooney ready to snap at any moment. They know they might not win against Smasher in a straight-up fight, but if they get clever, Rooney can-. “He’ll want to tell you himself. The brat will have a fucking tantrum if I don’t let him tell you.”

They holster their monowires, fairly certain that Smasher doesn’t mean them harm. Curious eyes burn into Rooney, everyone wondering why they would cause such a stir with Smasher’s boss. “I doubt he wants to see me. I think it would be better if you and I talked-.”

“No one ever rejected him the way you did, Shepard. Was licking his fucking wounds for weeks.” Dread morphs into guilt, and Rooney looks away. They hadn’t wanted to hurt Yorinobu, but they needed to return to the Military. It was their home, or at least, it had been at one point. “’Sides, even if I told you, you don’t fucking think he would come to find you himself?”

He would come looking for them, which would place V in even more danger. Vik, Misty, and Mamá Welles too. “You don’t have to tell him. You could always withhold my identity.”

“Pays me too much for that, Shepard. You want the fucking gig or not?”

No, they don’t; they really don’t. But this might have something to do with V, and they can’t fail V. Rooney won’t fail V. It also sounds like Yorinobu might be in trouble too. He was the whole reason Rooney got through their time with Arasaka, after being reanimated and jacked with experimental mods. Yorinobu was the first one to make them feel like a person, not so alone. They wanted, no, needed to help Yorinobu if he was in trouble.  “I’ll do it. When would he like to meet?”

Something akin to a smile appears on Smasher’s face. “Now.”

—

The ride up to the Arasaka CEO’s office is a silent one as Rooney watches the numbers tick on as the elevator climbs upward. Their last interaction with Yorinobu plays over in their head, the memory as clear as day.

Yorinobu is panic-stricken, holding onto their arm tightly. “Rooney, you cannot go back to them. They threw you away, leaving you to the whims of Arasaka. What happens if you die again?”

Three more floors…

They frown, confused by his behavior. “Yorinobu, you can’t stop me from returning. We both knew I wasn’t going to stay here forever. What did you think would happen?”

Two more floors…

His grip on their arm loosens, face softening. “I thought you might want to stay with me. Help me destroy Arasaka from the inside.”

One more floor…

Rooney pulls their arm from Yorinobu. “In another life, I would have,” He looks heartbroken as they continue softly, “But I made a promise to serve, and I intend to keep my promise.”

The elevator door opens, releasing Rooney from their memories of heartbreak. They walk beside Smasher, gaze focused on the office in front of them. Rooney swallows nervously, rolling their left shoulder, out of habit. They never expected to see Yorinobu again, especially under these circumstances.

Rooney enters Yorinobu’s office with Smasher, Yorinobu standing in front of his desk, his back towards the two. In front of him is a large screen, detailing Arasaka’s stock value, and other information. “Do you have them?” Yorinobu asks, sounding vaguely annoyed.

“Course I have them,” Smasher motions to Shepard, “Do I ever come up fucking empty handed?”

Yorinobu shakes his head, placing the holopad down. He turns, facing Rooney and Smasher as the pair stop a few feet away from him. Trying to stay collected, Rooney feels like they’ve had the wind knocked out of them. He’s in front of them; Yorinobu is really in front of them. Yorinobu must be feeling the same way.  His eyes widen behind his glasses, shock clear on his face. “Rooney?”

He says their name, and they want to run to him so badly. To hold him in their arms and tell Yorinobu that they wish they had reached out sooner. Instead, they clasp their hands behind their back, aiming to treat him as they would any other client. “Good evening Yorinobu,” Rooney feels fairly confident in using his first name while staying professional, “I understand that you need help finding a missing person. I’m happy to work with your team, or I can recommend-.”

“That’s it?” Frustration colors his voice as he shakes his head. “This is the first time we have seen each other since that day, and this is how you react? Like I am stranger? Like nothing happened?”

Yorinobu is so much more to Rooney than a stranger. He’s the one that they let go, the one person who still holds the still-beating pieces of Rooney Shepard’s perpetually broken heart. “You are a client,” Their tone is firm as they continue to dig their grave, ever obstinate, “You are hiring me to find someone. Unless you would prefer someone else to take this case.” Someone who has less emotional baggage.

He looks hurt at their declaration, mumbling something under his breath about how stubborn they are, a badge that they wear with pride. To Smasher, he dismisses the man with a wave of his hand. “Leave.”

“Gladly,” Smasher replies, likely relieved to not be part of their argument. He stomps out of the room, leaving the two alone.

Silence permeates the room as Rooney searches for the right words. Yorinobu huffs, “What about us? Did any of that mean anything to you?”

They flinch a little, hurt a little by the insinuation that Yorinobu thought that Rooney didn’t care about their relationship, that it didn’t matter. But, they were treating him like a client. Sighing, Rooney unclapses their hands from behind their back. They join him at his desk and lean against it as they cross their arms over their chest. “What we had meant a lot to me, Yorinobu,” He perks up a little, some of that signature cockiness returning, “but you made it pretty clear when I left to return to the military that you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I did not mean-.”

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean it,” Rooney looks up at him, “I wanted to respect your boundaries, and you made it pretty clear about where we stood.” Yorinobu looks down at his desk, avoiding their gaze. Damnit, they were screwing this up. “Yorinobu,” they gently call his name, and he looks up at them, “I’m here now. Tell me about this case.”

He comes closer to them, the scent of his familiar cologne invading their nose. Woodsy with bits of Cedar and Nutmeg. “Saburo Arasaka is dead,” He admits quietly, meeting their gaze.       

“I would give my condolences, but I feel it would be more appropriate to say, may Saburo Arasaka rot in hell.”

Yorinobu smirks, a small laugh escaping him. “May he rot somewhere worse than hell,” He looks away from them, “He was poisoned by his bodyguard.” Not the story I was told, Rooney thinks. They trust that V’s version is more accurate, knowing how much Yorinobu hated his father. But, why was he continuing to give them the same tale he was giving everyone else? Probably because they were an ex he hadn’t seen in a few years. Yorinobu couldn’t know where their loyalties lie. Besides, he wasn’t the only one who was going to keep secrets.

“There were also two thieves that day,” They raise an eyebrow knowing full well that he is referring to V and Jackie, “They stole something from me. Something important.”

“Important how?”

Deftly avoiding the question, he picks up a black flash drive from his desk and comes to stand in front of them. Holding it up, he asks, “I have footage of the crime if you want to see it. Would you like me to insert it for you?”

Rooney nods, tilting their head slightly as brush away their dark red hair, offering him better access to slot the drive in. His right hand gently wraps around their throat, holding them still in place, fingers slightly interlaced with their hair. His brown eyes meet their ocean blue ones for a second, and Rooney’s breath hitches in their throat, a small flame of yearning they thought long buried flickering within them. He slots the drive in, the footage begins to play a second later. Two thieves pop out of the wall, clearly shaken: V and Jackie Welles. Formerly Night City’s dynamic duo. Close friends of Rooney’s. While Jackie and V’s faces are blurred, Rooney can still tell them from a mile away. The two mercs rush over to Saburo’s corpse, panicking over the dead man. The audio is distorted, perhaps on purpose to keep any mention of Yorinobu’s deeds hidden.

“Notice anything?” He asks, leaning in closer, his breath warm on their ear. Yorinobu’s thumb lazily strokes along the edge of their jaw. Rooney swallows, reminding themself to focus on the matter at hand: the footage.

“No.” Jackie and V freak out. Jackie paces back and forth in place, awkwardly holding the stolen goods. V is running back and forth, looking terrified as they search for a way out. A few moments later, Jackie and V are gone, the footage ending. The drive pops out, Yorinobu taking it as he releases their throat. Rooney tries not to miss the touch of his skin against theirs, but it’s hard to shake. “I don’t recognize the perpetrators,” a bold-faced lie, “I can reach out to some of my contacts underground to see if they’ve heard anything. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“You will need to find only one of the thieves. The man holding what they stole is dead.”

“Anything more?” Yorinobu looks away, placing the drive down, and Rooney senses some hesitancy. But they need to know. If Rooney can find a way to help him and V, they want to. There has to be a path forward; Rooney just can’t see it yet. “Yorinobu,” They say his name softly, uncrossing their arms. Gently, they place their hand on his shoulder, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze, “I know this must be difficult for you, but any detail helps. I want to help you.” Please let me help you.

He grabs a holopad from his desk, swiping it a few times before passing it to Rooney. Taking the pad, their brows furrow as they begin to read the details. Shit, that is the thing that is killing V. “What is this?”

“Do you remember how I told you that my Father did worse things? Things worse than experimenting on you?” They remember the conversation very clearly, the one where Yorinobu swore that he would destroy Arasaka from the inside out. “This is one of them: the Relic.”

“And what does the Relic do?” They already know what it does. It turns idiot mercs with delusions of grandeur into long-dead rockstars.

“My father wanted to live forever,” Yorinobu’s voice is grave, “The Relic was his answer to that.”

Horror washes over them like a wave capsizing a boat in a stormy sea. Their heart skips a beat, the awful insinuation not lost on them. That’s…that’s…There are not enough words in the human language for Rooney to express how awful it is. Shakily, they place the holopad down, facing him with horror clear on their face. Instinctively, Rooney cups his face, searching his eyes. He’s still Yorinobu, the man they knew. But that still doesn’t make them any less worried for him. “Yori..,” their nickname for him slips out in a breathy tone as he uses the opportunity to pull them closer, hands on their hips, “Saburo…he didn’t try to… he didn’t…?” Even after all the terrible things they’ve seen, Rooney can’t bring themself to finish the sentence.

“No, he never got the chance.”

Rooney breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“Worried for me?”

“Always.” From the moment they left the Arasaka labs, Rooney worried about him, afraid that he might do something rash.

“When did you come to Night City?”

They’re surprised at his question. “I thought we were talking about the case, not about me.”

“You know you need to find the thief and the relic, and I would prefer this was kept between you, Smasher, and I. You will also be compensated generously for your work. But, I am curious as to how you came to live in Night City.”

“I arrived a year and a half ago. Something about being with the military didn’t feel right anymore. I ended up here in Night City, a place where the Free States and the NUS would leave me alone.”

“Did you know I was here?”

They sigh, knowing this would go in circles. “Yes, but I thought-.”

“I know what you thought,” Yorinobu cuts them off, “But did you ever think about contacting me?”

More than he knows. Rooney remembers the first time that they thought about contacting him. It was a rainy day, and they were limping to Vik’s after a nasty run-in with Scavs. As they walk down the rainy street, they catch sight of Yorinobu’s face on a screen. He stops them in their tracks, the world seemingly stopping. They watch, mesmerized, no longer caring that the rain was drenching them as the news report continued. Without thinking, they pull up their contact list, scrolling down to Yorinobu. Rooney hovers over his name, wanting so desperately to call him, to hear his voice. Instead, they close the phone, knowing that some things are better left in the past. The second time was when V was in critical condition. Things were going to shit, and he was one of the first people Rooney wanted to contact. Actually, he was the first, but they decided against it. “I did,” They admit quietly.

“Did you miss me?” A loaded question if Rooney’s ever heard one. And one they refuse to answer. They should keep things professional, already having crossed several lines. “I missed you; I missed you terribly.” He leans down toward them, longing battling within Rooney. God, they want him badly, so badly that it threatens to consume them. He’s so close and Rooney leans up to meet him, wanting Yorinobu so much more than they realize. 

“Arasaka-sama,” A voice speaks over the intercom on his desk, “Hanako-Sama is here to see you.” Rooney is jolted back to reality, realizing what they were about to do and how monumentally of a bad idea this was. They release him, gently pulling themself out of his arms. Yorinobu looks pained at their rejection, and a sharp spike of guilt rises in their chest. It’s better for them both this way.

“I should go,” They have to do this, someone has to stop this, and Rooney will take on that responsibility, “I should start working on the case.”

“Rooney, please do not-.”

“Stop.” The wounded look on his face sends another stake of pain in their chest. “Hanako, your sister, needs you right now.”

“And you do not?” They open their mouth, and he cuts them off. “Do not give me some self-serving bullshit about being fine.”

Rooney is fine. Or at least, maybe they’ll convince everyone they are fine if they repeat it enough times. “Doesn’t matter what I need,” They say sharply, giving him a pointed look, “Right now, we need to find the thief and the Relic.” Or at least, buy enough time that they can figure out what to do with this shitstorm of a situation. “I’ll leave my number with Smasher and pass anything I find on to him.” Smasher was one of the last people that Rooney wanted to have their number, but this would be better for everyone.  

“No,” They raise an eyebrow before Yorinobu’s eyes alight and they’re receiving a call from him, “Since I still have your number and you have mine, please contact me with all updates. I plan to be very involved in this.”

The door to this office opens, and both turn towards the door, the sound of heels clicking drawing their attention.  Hanako Arasaka steps into the office, Sandayu Oda hot on her heels. “Shepard,” Hanako looks surprised, all while staying very prim and proper, “I did not know you were in Night City.”

“Just moved within the last year, Ma’am. Your brother didn’t know either.” Rooney knew what Hanako was fishing for. She had been aware of their relationship with Yorinobu the last time, even if she did not always approve of it. “Oda,” They nod a greeting towards him.

“Shepard,” He returns with a nod of his own.

“Please excuse me. I was just leaving, Ma’am.” They start, making their way to the door.

“Have a pleasant night, Shepard.”

“You as well.” Rooney quickly excuses themself, throwing one last glance over their shoulder at Yorinobu. He catches their gaze, winking at them. They shake their head, fully leaving the office.

As soon as they reach the elevator, Rooney leans against the back wall, letting out a sigh as the elevator door closes. Their holo pings a second later, a familiar name appearing. The text read: We should get a drink sometime. An offer that sounded far more tempting than it should. Rooney closes the message, leaving him on read. This was going to be a long case. 

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cp2077 fanfic #yorinobu arasaka #yorinobu arasaka x original character #kate writes #the rooney fic tag #commander rooney shepard #I won't let fear compromise who I am #v: cyberpunk 2077 #OTP: It always comes right back to you #I'm putting this out here; I'm letting it go now #I hope it's okay #I was really wanted to share this one so I haven't been letting it sit as long as some of my other stuff #so I hope it's as good as some of my other stuff #Lol both these idiots love each other but Rooney would rather eat glass than actual acknowledge they have feelings in general

[genav0s]

❪ ⌕ . ❫ ' OO. ㅤ ﹕ PRESSURE⠀!⠀⠀⠀[  . . .  ]

i cannot make you understand. i cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside of me. i cannot even explain it to myself.⠀–—⠀from, "The Metamorphosis"

✶ . CHARACTERS: eun hwaseong & ian moon. ✶ . WORD COUNT: 2.2k ✶ . WARNINGS: swearing, jealousy, drug use, & fighting. ✶ . NOTES: seunghui & doyun are in my wip boy group. written in two hours instead of finishing the conclusion of my anthropology thesis, might be a little academic vocabulary-wise in the beginning. jarringly inconsistent usage of present & past tense.

There is something to be said about pressure. An all-consuming smothering that has the capacity to produce diamonds or dust. 

Hwaseong loved the feeling of that smothering pressure. 

He liked the duality of feeling trapped in his own head but protected by the knowledge that he’d come out on the other side. 

He was raised on the adrenaline of everything being on the line— his mother’s entire career was revived in an instant with a carefully executed smile on Hwaseong’s behalf. He was performing on stage, entertainment for politicians and important celebrities, before he could properly assemble reliable memories and expressions of the rush of emotions he felt every time he stepped up into the spotlight.

Training at Apricus was a breeze compared to the level of perfection his mother instilled in him as she oversaw his tutoring sessions. Accustomed to the expectation of excellence and motivated by the tense scrutiny the executives placed upon potential debuts, in Hwaseong’s mind the only reason he hadn’t debuted sooner was because of how young he was. 

Karin had a weird aversion to debuting anyone under the age of 16— the rule hadn’t been broken for a single artist under the label. He figured it had something to do with the contract she was under when she had first debuted, though he had never thought to ask. 

Ending up on the survival show was a sigh of relief for the Seoul native. The gesture— he believed, was supposed to be a true show of their faith in his talents and marketability. Seven years of dedication at the age of 17 was more than most of the others on the show could boast about. Sure, he figured it would be just as much a challenge as it was a reward for his hard work. But he figured being chosen for the show was much more a formality than a true test of his charisma and bare minimum ability to carry a tune. 

The offense he found in the selection of the other boys had been a selling point in his arc throughout the show. He was filmed scoffing at Sanghyuk’s long hours spent practicing over and over and over in the dance studio Hwaseong knew had the best acoustics. He rolled his eyes when Carter struggled to find the right words to thank the judging panel’s gracious oversight of his horrendous pronunciation. His teeth gritted in annoyance as he bit back insults directed at Jioh every time he hurled whatever it was he ate before his confessionals. 

But none of them got under his skin the way Ian Moon managed to. 

Their disdain for one another had been well documented throughout the show. In Hwaseong’s eyes, Ian was nothing more than a pretty boy who had only made it onto the show as someone else’s replacement. Hwaseong had never bothered to ask why Ian had similarly brushed Hwaseong off so early on, in truth he didn’t care much for the reason. 

The two’s highly publicized mutual distaste had managed to pique the interests of the producers who incorporated the tension between the two into nearly every episode. 

Genuine statements of “Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll try harder” from Ian were met with censored insults from Hwaseong. And as the distance between their rankings continued to grow throughout the first half of the series, Hwaseong only felt emboldened by his disdain for the Texan former athlete. 

“I don’t get it. Yeah, he was put on the show ‘cause he’s pretty, but so what?” Doyun laughs as he watches Hwaseong’s careful surveillance of Ian’s revisioning behind the glass separating the two of them. 

“Pretty sells,” Seunghui agrees, nodding at Doyun’s words, gently nudging Hwaseong’s shoulder. With a scowl, Hwaseong reverts his eyes from the sight in front of him. Turning to the other two instead.

“Dude’s a smug asshole. Trained for a few months— as a joke, by the way. And he ends up on the shortlist for a boy group because what— some middle school girl thought he was hot?” Doyun and Seunghui exchange a glance before dissolving into shared laughter, falling into each other as Hwaseong broods to himself. 

“Careful, middle school girls are about to fund your whole career.” Doyun hums, lips downturned into a pout as he taps at Hwaseong’s cheek sarcastically. 

“Isn’t your sister in middle school?” Seunghui chimes in curiously, finally catching Hwaseong’s attention. 

“What if Dasom's part of the middle school girls that petitioned for Ian to be on the show?” Doyun muses, bouncing off of Seunghui’s good-natured teasing of their older friend. With a piercing side eye, Hwaseong chooses to ignore the two’s musings. 

“He’s lucky Jaehee’s personally mentoring him,” He mentions off-handedly. 

Doyun and Seunghui’s confusion is enough for him to continue fueling his own jealous ruminations. 

“He’s in there with her right now, bastard—” 

With a rumble of chuckling from the other two, Hwaseong’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, briefly releasing him from his ranting. 

“Jaehee offered to give pointers to anyone who got to her during the break before filming resumed,” Seunghui explained with a shrug of his shoulders. 

The corners of Doyun’s mouth curled in amusement as they watched Hwaseong try to run through the endless instructions thrown at them over the hours they had already spent filming that day. 

“I—” He begins, only to be cut off by enthused Doyun. 

“He’s not the bastard between the two of you either. His dad’s just dead, yours is a whore.”

The act of filming the show was quite possibly the most dreaded part of Hwaseong’s routine for the latter half of 2013. He concealed yawns and distasteful jokes behind the heads of the other contestants, only stepping into view of the camera when it came time for him to prove his worth to the judges seated in front of the remaining trainees. 

Regardless of his intentional aversion to the camera, the producers always managed to find him when he and Ian were at their most heated. Volatile exchanges heightened into agitated bite-backs which bled into almost any mention of the one contestant that could unnerve Hwaseong at the mere sound of his name. He never thought it to be a coincidence that the two of them happened to find themselves within minimal feet of one another, entering confessionals as one exited, performing one before the other. 

But the producers had never made their thirst for conflict more obvious than one of the last days of filming. 

Against all— mostly Hwaseong’s— odds, Ian had managed to squeeze his way within reach of the final lineup. A final solo performance of each of the 10 trainees remaining would be the determination between debut and elimination. Doyun and Seunghui had been eliminated weeks ago. Hwaseong wasn’t surprised as much as he was peeved. For some reason, the show just couldn’t shake Ian. 

“Yo, what’s your fuckin’ problem with me, dude?” 

Hwaseong knew Ian had issues with his temper. It was a plot point emphasized over and over by the producers throughout the taping. He had a short fuse and a burning desire to get even. Hwaseong figured it to be leftover rage from the injury that removed the possibility of achieving the dream he’d had since he was a young boy. Sanghyuk had let it slip that Ian’s father was an abusive surgeon— an oxymoron that made Hwaseong’s head hurt so bad he brushed it off and never thought about it again. 

“Does it matter?” Hwaseong snarks in response, the corner of his lip curling in his quip. Three words are all it takes for Ian’s eyes to light up brighter than Hwaseong had ever seen before. A fire suddenly erupted from a spark he didn’t know was there.

“Yeah, it does Hwaseong.” Ian hissed, fists and jaw equally tense, clenched in restraint. He glances at the other trainees who slowly begin to pay attention to the tension breaking between the two boys.

“Whatever Ian. The show’s almost over, you’ll be able to go home and forget about me in about three days.” His words are delivered with a scoff, a roll of his eyes following shortly after. 

“Are you threatened by me or—” That was enough to set Hwaseong off. The fire spreading to his much darker eyes, launching him forward to stand eye-to-eye with the American. 

“Threatened?” He all but spat the word out, as if an insult to his existence. “You’re so full of shit. We both know the only reason you’re here is because Jaehee wants to keep the pretty boy with the funny accent around.”

There isn’t a moment of pause before Ian grabs at Hwaseong’s shirt, throwing him to the ground before Hwaseong or any of the other spectators could react. As Hwaseong scrambles to rise to his feet from the frigid floor beneath him Ian smirks at the clear panic in his eyes. 

“What’s it like to be so fucking pathetic that no one bothers defends you?” The amusement in his eyes sends a shiver down Hwaseong’s spine as he finds himself unable to tear his attention away from the vocalist towering over him. 

“What’s it like to be so fucking cowardly you have to beat the motivation out of your competition to win at anything?” Hwaseong’s words are coated in venom as he returns the insult. “You’re not making the group, Ian. No one wants you here.” 

With that, a blur of yelling and bodies shifting in Hwaseong’s vision clouds his perception. He barely registers the others struggling to restrain the older boy from grabbing at the younger. The ringing in his ears from the weight of the built-up resentment between the two of them culminates in a smirk that Hwaseong can tell infuriates Ian to his core. 

Through gritted teeth, held back by both Sanghyuk and Carter, Ian musters a strained, “Fuck you.” 

With a saunter to the door of the practice room, Hwaseong speaks up with one last taunt. “Take care of yourself, Ian. Send us a postcard from Texas.” 

If Hwaseong believed in a higher power, he was sure God was enjoying making Hwaseong eat his words. Over the next three days, Ian had not only turned half of the other contestants against the show’s youngest trainee but had managed to squeeze his way into the final lineup. 

As if by some sick twist of fate, Hwaseong watched the group’s final member claim the last spot in the quintet, that signature cocky smirk of his plastered across his praised features. When he catches Hwaseong’s eye from his spot at the other end of the line— Sanghyuk and Romeo providing a necessary buffer between the two with starry eyes and blinding smiles, Hwaseong can feel his stomach twist with a chill so nauseating his smile is wiped from his face. His knees buckle underneath him, catching Carter’s attention who finds the situation so gratifying he leans over to whisper a carefully enunciated, “How’s it feel, dumbass?” under his breath.

With disbelief etched into his expression, mistakenly read as gratitude, Hwaseong trends for the next week. 

“Do you remember that fight we got into?” Ian chuckles lowly, slowly taking a hit from the lit blunt in his hand. He shakes his head as he remembers the moment that irrevocably changed the course of his life. He exhales after a moment, watching the smoke fill the empty air in front of his nose before slowly dissipating into the Seoul night sky. Ian shifts to take a second drag before passing the blunt to Hwaseong, sighing slowly. 

“Yeah, made you eat shit in front of everyone,” Ian responds, a dimple coming to rest on his cheek, turning to watch Hwaseong as his lips closed around the blunt between his fingers. 

“Shut up. You did not make me ‘eat shit’”. Hwaseong answers, the smoke leaving his mouth in a sudden stream. 

“Yeah, I did. I beat your ass and made it into the final lineup.” 

The younger man’s eyebrows furrow in disagreement, “You did not beat my ass, Ian.” 

As he reaches for the blunt, Ian playfully hums, “Still made it into the lineup.” 

Hwaseong scoffs with an eye roll, “Last.” 

With an exhale Ian simply mutters, “How bad does your ass still sting?” 

The two share a lazy chuckle, eyes drooping as they recall the memory differently. Rising with a grunt, Hwaseong brushes off the comment casually, “Whatever, dickhead.” 

Mirroring with a grunt of his own, Ian gently soothes the younger man’s temperament, “You love me.” 

Receiving a grumble in response, Ian watches Hwaseong turn to unlock the door of their dorm to reenter the shared space in the early hours of the morning. 

Stopping him with a sudden urgency he asks, “Wait, do we look high? I don’t need Sanghyuk on my ass tonight.” 

Hwaseong offers a snorted chuckle in response, receiving a furrowing of Ian’s eyebrows. “Doesn’t matter that you look high when you smell high.” After a brief moment of blank staring on Ian’s end, Hwaseong continues toward the door, fiddling with the door knob.

“I smell high?”

#⠀–— ⠀*⠀⠀:⠀⠀TRANSCRIPT⠀!⠀⠀[ . . . ] #ficnetfairy #fictional kpop soloist #fictional boygroup #fictional kpop oc #fictional kpop community #fictional idol group #fictional idol community #fictional idol oc #kpop idol #kpop oc #kpop au #kpop boygroup #kpop boy group #kpop #kpop bg #fake kpop oc #fake idol group #fake kpop boy group #fake kpop idol #fake oc #fake idol oc #fake idol community #idol au #idol #fictional idol #idol oc

[cutegirlmayra]

Here's a prompt. Tails has has to go to a science convention they're usually filled with boring geezers and pretentious people who think they're "better." Tails is allowed to bring someone since Sonic won't go he asks Amy. While there they make fun of all the "leading minds and elites" Tails feels less alone having a friend there and gives his best presentation yet.

-Sing-songy- Prompts are on Shut-Down~! That means don’t click the IN-Boxxx~ It’s very fuuuullll~ I don’t have time, anymore~ So, leave it be! (-background choir- Yes, leave it be!) It needs to rest just like my aching fingers and headddd~ (She’s so behind!) I thank you for your timmmeeee~ For trusting me with your ideas! -kicks- I’ll keep trying to complete’em! -Kicks- I just need more of your patience, kiddo! (She’s tryin’!) So keep your head’s held high! I’ll post them on the fly! Just keep your eyes upon my channels and writing sittteeesss~ (She’ll work overtime!) For your smillleeessss~ -big finisher, water sprays everywhere, show girls hug my sides and pose as I spread my full arm-span out and lean my head back to belt the last bit. We then proudly freeze in place for photos.)

Prompt:

Tails stood with his enhanced plane mechanics dissected and laid simply upon the presentation table, feeling like a nervous kid at a science fair while older human men walk by to examine the scientific break-throughs, but only give his stall a glance before moving on.

For some reason, Tails didn’t realize that men of science would be that particularly interested in the ‘look’ of a presented scientific wonder than the actual ‘wonder of invention’ itself.

His script in hand for the later ‘speech’ segment of the convention, he twisted it repeatedly between his gloved hands… wringing it as it cried out crumbled sounds to match his withering self-confidence…

He looked at the ground, his mock-model plane displayed up on a model-stick, the paint beautiful, and his cards for explaining each ingenious piece of it’s refigured structure modeled on the table as well.

‘Well, if I could have flown it, they’d stop and stare, wouldn’t they!?’ He angrily continued to wring the life out of the twisted papers in his hands.

He turned to the table, no longer able to see what looked like a red bear of somekind come up to the panel, scratch his chin, and then nod and take his leave through the crowd flowing past his stall.

“Gah..!” He hit the table with both his hands, squinting his eyes closed, “They won’t even ask a single question or make a remark..!” He had no idea what they were thinking…

The memory of Sonic turning his back to him, whimsically stating that science fairs weren’t really his thing, and winking to him that he’ll do great replayed in his mind a moment… only making his fingers upon the table flinch and twitch at the insensitivity…

‘Did Sonic really believe in me..? Or was that his way of avoiding a ‘boring’ science convention?’ He sighed as he relaxed his tense arms to gently begin sliding off the table, as though losing hope, before a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Wow! It’s even more expansive than the X-Tornado, Tails!”

The sound of Amy’s voice lifted him up in surprise, as he turned around with almost tears of joy in his eyes, “Amy… When did you get here?!” He spread his arms out wide, his twin tails flopping excitedly to show his true emotions of having a friend there to support him in his time of need.

Amy, seeing that, giggled, and moved her souvenir science bag, given to all who paid ticket entry, to the front of her and off her shoulder, “I got your letter in the mail about it! Of course I’d come to cheer you on, Tails!” She looked around, “It must be kinda lonely… not knowing anyone…”

“Are you kidding!?” Tails raced to her side, looping an arm around her and pulling her down to his height, pointing, “That’s Dr. Yellow’s newest machine that protects against sun’s harmful rays! You put it in water and let it sit and absorb light away from skin, like a tractor beam!” He turned her abruptly, causing her to cry out a second in alarm, before pointing to another scientist, “That’s Dr. Uda Strainheart! She’s the top-leading scientist for genetic modification!!!”

He continued to explain, expound upon, and geek out over everyone in attendance.

Amy just sweatdropped a bit in his eager explanation, clearly meaning he hadn’t a friend in the world here, but didn’t dare stop listening and nodding to each of his excited rants about them.

“Wow, I’m glad to see such an amazing mix of talented men and women.” She gestured about, “Including my favorite… You~” She booped his nose.

He chuckled, blushing at her sweetness, “Thanks, Amy… To be honest, I wasn’t really intimidated… more embarrassed…” He bent his ears down, “I’ve always wanted to attend this convention with my own scientific breakthrough… but I… Ohhh… I don’t really feel competent anymore.” He lowered his head. “I don’t have amazing works like sun polarizing mechanics that can draw in harmful light beams, or even change the genetic makeup so a child doesn’t inherit a harmful disease… I just made a new and improved fighter plane that no one seems to think is really helpful to society at large…” He rotated his fingers around each other, “I think… I have to make some sort of contribution to ‘health and safety’ to really make people stop and stare at my work…”

Amy, hearing enough, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to the front of her, “Now look here, Mr. Miles Prower!” He looked greatly shocked by her using his full name. “What’s more safe than a machine that can go toe-to-toe with a Egg-Destroyer? With a cosmic meteor shower!? You’ve literally created a heroic piece of machinery to protect and defend the whole ‘health and safety’ of the ENTIRE PLANET!” She let him go and threw out her arms into the space above his head. “You’re a GENIUS, Tails! It’s the health and safety of the environment against deadly threats like robotic takeovers or literal levels of cataphoric anomalies the size of the extinction of dinosaurs! You gotta have more confidence in yourself, buddy!” She nudged his arm, and he couldn’t help but smile at the kindness of his dear friend.

“You… You really did read my letter…” He nodded, wiping a tear out of his eye, “Y-Yeah… I guess… I’m not so good at… umm… praising myself? I guess?” He looked at his shoddy, make-shift station to present his work…

“Then you’ve gotta sell your passionate love to make them all fall in love with you!” She got all riled up with fire in her eyes, holding up her fists and looking as though she was trying to set the entire convention up on a date with Tails…

“Uhhh… H-How do I do that? And not go that far, either…” He sweatdropped, forgetting who he was talking to…

“You gotta declare your love to the masses! So those other stingy, pompous scientist nerds have to recognize you no matter what!” Her enthusiasm made him cower back a second.

“E-Easy, Amy…” She jutted herself into his face as he tried to pull back.

“Come on, Tails! In order to win the hearts of those you care about and adore, you’ll have to make them admire and love you! And so,” She took his hand, racing towards the stage, “You gotta beat all the other hopeful suitors to the punchline!!!” She threw him on the stage, making him cry out as he wiggled his arms about but got his tails spinning to land on the stage.

“A-Amy!” He reached out for her, but she held up his plane, winking.

“Give it all you got, Tails!”

He lowered his ears again, looking to see everyone now staring at him, turning to face him and corral around the stage.

“Uhh… uhhhhhhhh-AH!” He was suddenly shot with a spotlight, and all eyes were on him.

He nervously tried to unfold his paper, shrieking silently to himself when his eyes almost bulged out of his sockets at seeing that his wringing behavior from nerves and frustration caused the sweat of his hands to bleed out the script, the words now smearing with the ink all over his gloves.

He hadn’t noticed… what will he do now!?

“Ah, That’s…” Amy’s eyes noticed something above the stage, “Sonic! Spin into this!!!” She threw the plane into the air.

“Ah! Sonic!?” Tails looked above his head, turning around to see a blue spinball go to bash against the toy plane. “Woah! Uhh… Initiate astroid protocol!” He cried out, as the plane began to transform and fire out fake firepower towards Sonic, looking like foam missiles and the like.

Some were just artistically recreated versions of the actual equipment on it.

Tails swiped out his hand holding the script, no longer needing it, “Advance!”

The Plane wobbled a second before boosters shot out, two on each end, and it’s wings flipped to reveal a set of two on each end.

“Now, defeeenndddd!!!” Tails cried out, as Amy rushed up where Sonic was spindashing, holding her arms out wide as the plane’s wings spread out and a photo-realistic projection showed a pink grid screen effect, a wide shield as it then fired out more attacks onto the spinning hedgehog.

Tails watched as Sonic proved his trust in his friend’s abilities, and gave that model plane all of his furious, highspeed shredding.

The crowd went into awe, gasping at the marvel, as the plane pushed against a massive force and held its place perfectly in the air. Its position never wavered, its armor never tore, and Amy smiled at seeing the sparks coming off of its hide, knowing Sonic wasn’t just doing this for show, but was also giving everything he had to the model plane.

“Hit it BACCCCKK!!!” Tails threw himself back, shouting with every bit of passion he had and knowing his invention would hold.

The Plane then turned its boosters in on eachother, and with the four flames becoming a singular, strong entity… The plane shoved with a fierce propulsion Sonic’s spinball up and through the convention’s roof.

“That asteroid returned to a new orbit.” Amy winked and saluted, “Thanks to the amazing and masterful hand of my dear friend,” She then held out her hand to gesture to Tails on the stage, “The youngest inventor of ingenuity yet! A marvel of humility! Miles ‘Tails’ Prower!”

Immediately, people were scrambling to the edge of the stage, crying out, “Oh, Mr. Prower! Mr. Prower!?” Trying to grab at his attention first to ask their questions.

The little toy plane slowly flew down as Amy moved up to gently catch it, “Great job, little buddy.” She smiled at it, then looked up proudly to Tails as he was clambered with scientific enthusiasts and minds all wanting to hear more about his great invention.

Amy then looked up to see Sonic’s head silouetted by the light of the outside crater left in the rooftops, his face darkened by him looking down, before slowly moving off and away.

She heard the similar sound of speeding away, and gently closed her eyes with that same kind smile. ‘Thank you… For not letting Tails down, Sonic.’ She sent almost a silent prayer of gratitude to him, before looking back to Tails who was being tugged left and right, the crowd going bonkers and nuts for him.

“Ah! Hey! O-One at a time!!! Form a line! Form. A. LINE!” She summoned her hammer and began to defend him, still holding the plane like a baby cradled in her arms. Her face turned scary and the people quickly moved back, giving the stage some space.

“Now, you first, please.” Amy used her hammer to direct everyone’s attention to a young girl, who put her hands together as her eyes sparkled towards Tails.

“Mr. Prower… Does your invention have a name?”

Tails smiled, nodding, “It does.” He looked to the crater as the Sonic X sound-music just before the end of an episode began to play. “It’s called… The Sonic-Striker!”

Truth be told, he hadn’t actually named it yet… Now he had the perfect name for it!

Next convention, he had a pink and blue model made, one called the Rose-Courge, and the other… Sonic-Striker Mark II. It was displayed that the Rose-Courage was a support system for the Sonic-Striker Mark II… and a newer model was being created for astronomical storms predicted for future times against the climate-changes threatening natural disasters… The Tails-Pride.

#tails #miles tails prower #sonic x #Tails and Amy prompt #Sonic #Sonic prompt

[my-mt-heart]

Based on what you read on that script page, what would you say is the likelihood that Carol, Daryl and the nun will all end up soaping each other in a steamy bubble bath? To clarify, I have no interest in seeing a threesome. I think bath time should be reserved for Carol and Daryl alone.

Also, what would you say is the likelihood of us getting trolled with another threesome comment at a Comic-Con panel?

Let me preface by saying that I am dying to do a full scene breakdown to give everyone a super clear sense of what we’re looking at, but I can’t focus on the writing because I want to honor the strike rules. This is tricky to navigate for me and I really appreciate everyone’s patience and understanding.

From what I read on the page, no one needs to worry about any threesomes (lol) or another ship going canon. Baiting it (using the possibility to build tension without any follow-through) is another issue—a marketing issue most of all—which I’ll explain a little further in another ask. Most of my questions/concerns are with the Daryl arc, specifically how they’re choosing to sell this character in ways that most of us were frustrated with throughout season 11. You know how we keep shouting at AMC to “say her damn name?” Why can’t Daryl take his own advice?

Contrary to what other fans wanted you to believe, it looks like Carol is getting a hero arc, which is super exciting as are the ways she’s connected to Daryl. But it only works if there’s payoff, and thanks to S11, I worry about that and wish there’d be more reassurance up front.

If I gave anyone the impression that Caryl can’t have their own bath time (if they’re going to the trouble to bait another bath, then fans are owed the payoff to that), that is wrong. I just think AMC is overestimating how much patience we have left, which could backfire on everyone.

The only person I’d be excited to hear from at SDCC is Melissa because her answers are always insightful and she doesn’t gaslight anyone.

#caryl #caryl spinoff #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

[cosmicjoke]

i am so sorry u had to deal with that anon, i hope you are feeling ok! :’) it sucks how shippers make their own reputation bad by not accepting another perspective/opinion :/ and to go to this extent over a fictional ship is just… something else😭 i’ll never understand how some can’t just enjoy their ship in peace and always have to prove it is canon and fight everyone else who doesn’t think like them, as if you can’t enjoy a ship otherwise?

anon just reminded me why i never took an interest in any levi ship, and i probably never will. i sooo wanted to say that i didn’t understand why anon suddenly started to hate on levi x oc shippers, but it’s obvious bc most oc’s are depicted as women and that is against their ‘canon’ ship and beliefs about levi😭 why care so much, levi can be whatever sexuality you want seeing as nothing was confirmed, so just take a step back, touch some grass and let people enjoy whatever they like :’)

anyways, once again im sorry u had to deal with all of that i can’t even imagine how tiring or frustrating it must be to always be attacked/asked about the same things constantly. i love your levi posts and i feel like you really analyze him very well! happy holidays :’)

Thank you so much, truly.

I've said again and again that I have nothing against any ship or shipping group. People can ship Levi with whoever they want. But these people who harass me over it, then accuse me of "talking" about it all the time, but the only reason I talk about it is because they're the ones asking me about it.

The thing is, is I just want to talk about what's in the actual story. Levi has no love interest in the story, either directly acknowledged or even implied. Everything this person sited as evidence or "proof" of Levi being romantically interested in Erwin, I addressed to the best of my abilities. They didn't want to accept it, and then they accuse me of being a hypocrite, trying to claim that all of my analysis posts are based on the same, speculative, inconclusive and flimsy material they base their beliefs on. As if breaking down text, expression, sequential order of panels, and patterns in the text and past character behavior is the same as taking an off-handed comment from Isayama in an interview from ten years ago or whatever and using it as proof of some super secret hidden romantic interest between Levi and Erwin. You can literally look at every post of mine analyzing AoT and find evidence supporting, pretty damn concretely, my conclusions in the actual text. And I'm hardly alone in that. There's many, many great AoT fans who write brilliant analysis posts about the manga/anime, using only the source material. But these people can never point to a single panel or word bubble or piece of text that supports this notion that Levi was in love with Erwin, or anyone, for that matter. They need to site promotional material to try and back up their claims, and extrapolate meaning from the panels and texts which isn't, in any discernible, concrete way actually supported by the text and panels. They literally need to twist Levi's words and actions in the most absurd, nonsensical, illogical manner in order to make it fit. That isn't how Isayama operates as a writer. Even when there's subtext, there's a clear, undeniable line between it and the action on the page. That's what analysis is based on, after all. There has to be a viable, evident reason for drawing certain conclusions.

Levi holding the serum against his chest, or touching Erwin's hand when he took the serum from him, or him thinking of Erwin when wondering who he could revive, none of that is enough proof in and of itself to support a romantic interest between them. I tried explaining to this person what those things actually indicate within the story. The last two don't mean anything. It's just how the panels were drawn. But the first, if this person had paid any kind of attention to Levi's actual relationship with Erwin, and how Levi regarded Erwin, and the reasons he was so loyal to Erwin, would understand that he thought of Erwin in that moment because he regarded Erwin as the leader that humanity needed, and that humanity's future was dependent on Erwin's survival. It's the entire reason Levi tried to stop Erwin from going to Shinganshina in the first place. I come to all of those conclusions based on the actual text and what we know about the characters leading up to that point.

I explained all of this to this fool in my initial reply to them, and they accused me of "brushing them off", lol.

Anyway, whatever. But thank you so much again for your support. I just can't seem to get away from these people, haha.

#Levi Ackerman #Erwin Smith

[pjz4dayz]

Some praise for the SpyXFamily manga (a letter to the anime onlys)

I’ve never read adapted manga chapters of an anime I’ve seen until SpyXFamily. As soon as I heard of the upcoming anime I knew it would be my jam (ticks all the boxes, even the ones that I never expect anime to tick— like adult characters around my age). Story about a fake family becoming a real one that has action, comedy, and a hard hitting dash of romance + cour 2 will have a dog? I didn’t need anyone to explain why I would have enjoy it. By episode 2 I got exactly what I was hoping this series would give me, that sweet sweet brainrot of a slow burn ship. I’m talking the good brainrot we got for Inuyasha/Kagome back when we were kids.🤌 Naturally, brainrot takes me down the path of manga only spoiler hunting, and eventually I come to the conclusion that I’ll become a reader. But do I start with the juicy new stuff— or do I start from the start? I came to the conclusion that I’m all in with this one, will get something out of reading what I’ve already seen animated and am curious especially to see the original work from the creator’s perspective only.

For Christmas my husband got me the first 3 volumes (the hints were strong). And all this faff is to say wow—I’m loving this manga.

We already know the artwork is beautiful from the screenshots we see, but reading the manga has been an experience unique to watching the anime, and that is not something I expected. The paneling is top notch. I hate when panels feel static or, worse yet, confusing. But the panels have a consistent momentum that really makes the story, the art, the pages come together in that sweet spot that lies somewhere in the visuals being shown to you and your own imagination. There are moments that didn’t stand out to me as particularly funny haha in the anime that for some reason, seemed hilarious in the manga. And sometimes it’s nice to be able to take in a frame at your own pace and really soak in all the details.

So, I’ve eaten manga spoilers galore, watched the anime, and I still get excited when reading the major story beats. I’m now saving the last episode like a forgotten soldier because I want to read the manga version first. I was afraid reading the manga would lessen my enjoyment of the anime but not so.

If you have sXf brainrot, twiyor brainrot, or any interest in the manga, grab the first volume. If you’re already enough of a fan to be on tumblr threads— you won’t regret it.

#spyxfamily #twiyor #spy x family #brainrot #sxf manga

[moron-hassaikai-and-more]

Character ask: hojo!!

:0 UNDERRATED CRYSTAL BOI!!

Quick heads up: there’s brief overdose mention and suicide right at the end so be wary of that if you think that’ll be triggering to you.

What I like about him: How much he clearly cares for Tabe and Setsuno (blah blah the camaraderie warms my heart, blah blah trauma from having no friends in school blah blah), pretty Crystals, buff man make brain go brrr.

What I dislike about him: that one screenshot where you can see he’s got stubble under his mask. No. Fucking shave your face dude. You already shave your head. Also that he got no screen time outside of getting his ass kicked :’)

Favourite moment: explaining why he and the other 2/3s of the trash trio are so close and that they’re not worth anything without each other (EEEEEEEEEE-)

Least favourite moment:

Cries at that panel

Situations I want to see more: Give me day to day trash trio shenaniganary. I want them doing normal stuff: going grocery shopping, hanging out with the other bullets, pestering overhaul, just slice of life stuff. I’d also love his relationships with Toya and Tabe to be developed more. Like, yeah, they’re trash but with each other they’re trash with meaning (EEEEEEEE-*is knocked out) but I want to know the actual dynamics. Toya is supposed to be the leader, do they actual respect that? (See more on this in the head cannon bit)

Interesting AU: One where he’s in a bizarre interlinked family tree with like, 6 others from the series. This is one me and my bf made, I dubbed it the Sin AU because each person’s quirk is from one of the seven deadly sins: Midnight is Lust, Deidoro is Gluttony, Monoma is Envy, Hojo is Greed, Tiger is Sloth, and there were two more I can’t recall at the current time. It doesn’t really do much other than add another layer of depth to the character, but I think it’s cool none the less. (Also I wanna see how the family reunions would go lol)

Crossover: Give this man a cavern crasher, give this man a rock stomper, we’re going to Berk, Gadies and Lents. I wanna see the entire Hassaikai with dragons from how to train your dragon so bad!! (I actually have headcannons for everyone! If you want to know I’ll elaborate in the notes)

OTP: ok ok ok. It’s weird, I know, but you gotta hear me out on this one: Hojo and Pixie Bob. The reason I say this is linked back to the Sin AU (Ibara must have coded my iPad or something, it won’t let me type sin without autocorrecting to sun a million times) because I Headcannon Deidoro and Ragdoll to be friends/partners/no one can fucking tell, so because Ragdoll and pixie are best friends, and in that au Deidoro and hojo were brothers, plus Hojo and tiger were related, it just kinda fell into place. Plus Pixie is super desperate for a partner and I feel like Hojo gets zero bitches, he’s the human embodiment of the ‘No bitches?’ Meme. Anyways.

Other ships: Overhaul and Chrono (because under no circumstance will I ever split them up). Purely cos I saw a post saying that entire rant about the trash trio being useless without overhaul and them owing everything to him was said by Hojo, not Setsuno, and it sounding like he had a crush on him.

BROTP: the rest of the trash trio. Duh.

NOTP: anyone from the league except now that I think about it I can weirdly see him working with Magne? …hm. And any pro too.

Headcannon time!!!

1. While Setsuno is the ‘leader’ of the trash trio, and he’s good at it, don’t get me wrong, he can definitely strategise and knows what he’s doing, he’s terrible at just…existing day to day life, so Hojo typically has to help him. He’s his common sense, in a way. He’s to Setsuno what Tengai is to Rappa, just both are a lot happier with the arrangement.

2. He and Setsuno actually knew each other before they joined the hassiakai, not well but they attended the same school and had a few classes together.

3. He’s 22 years old and the oldest of the trash trio. He’s also the third tallest in the bullets at 6’1 (only Rappa and Katsukame are taller cos…yeah. Btw this is completely ignoring the canon evidence showing otherwise because Tabe is not allowed to be tall. He is baby and he is no taller than 5’3 and I will bite anyone who says otherwise. I’m only saying this because I want to be taller than at least one person in the hassiakai-)

4. Sad backstory time. He was orphaned: his dad cheated on his mum before Hojo was born and his mum died of a drug overdose when he was around four. He was then moved to live with his aunt who..wasn’t an amazing parent but was better than what he had previously. As he got older, about 16, he found out what actually happened with his parents, and attempted to find his dad. He eventually managed to get in contact with him- however his dad wanted nothing to do with him. This destroyed him and he attempted to end his life, however overhaul found him and took him in. A few months later, Setsuno joined, and then Tabe about half a year after that, and with that, the trash trio was fully formed.

Huh. Didn’t know I had that much to say about him. I really thought I’d have a few sentences for each question…anyways, hope you enjoyed!

#post office #yu hojo #trash trio #shie hassaikai #mha #plague researcher

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, listening to Do the Right Thing led me to listen to a few episodes of Margaret Cabourn-Smith’s podcast Crushed. I only listened a few of them that looked interesting – Isy Suttie, Danielle Ward, and Nish Kuamr. The format is talking about “crushes”, so mostly from childhood and adolescence when this sort of thing is prevalent. Nish Kumar’s episode had this exchange early on that made me like him so much I had to stop and write it down:

Margaret Cabourn Smith: First crush, who springs to mind? Nish Kumar: When I told my girlfriend I was doing this podcast, she said, “Are they expecting you to largely talk about fictional characters? Because it’s going to be an hour of you talking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Who wants that, Nish?”

Guy, I like Nish Kumar so much. I love that the comedian I find funnier than almost anyone else, also happens to come across as an incredibly likeable person. He’s always had significant One of Us energy when he talks about being a comedy and music fan; I think his reputation should be at least as much for his relatable nerdery as for his (also relatable) righteous political anger. Quite a lot of this came across in listen to him talk for an hour with Margaret Cabourn Smith on that podcast. I’d listen to Nish Kumar talk for an hour about anything.

But anyway, I did like that specific quote, which he proceeded to expand on later in the episode, because that is a fairly specific thing that I seem to have in common with a lot of those comedians. Josh Widdicombe once went on a panel show and explained that he spent his teenage years doing math to work out his and his friends’ chances of marrying Sarah Michelle Gellar. And there was, obviously, this. All of that. I guess coming of age while being in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer is hardly an uncommon experience for this generation, but still, I enjoy when comedians give me relatable content like talking about coming of age while being in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Actually, the comedian I most share this with is probably Rosie Jones, as she played Willow in that Amusical that I linked to (if you haven’t seen the pictures and videos at that link before, please do yourself a favour and click on it, it’s fucking delightful and I rewatch this video like once every few weeks), and at the end made a speech about how that show helped her know it was okay to be gay. Which is such a common story for queer woman of the millennial generation (I’ve just looked it up and Rosie Jones is only four months older than me) that it’s almost a running joke, among the ones I know, to say that of course you grew up with Willow/Tara and The L Word and your only scraps of representation, which you watched with headphones on and your door closed so no one would know you were discovering the forbidden lesbianism.

But for me, I didn’t get into Buffy the Vampire Slayer until a couple of years after it had finished airing. So it wasn’t the thing that made me realize I was gay as a teenager. I’d already done that. I’d had my few really difficult years from ages 15-18, as I worked out that that horrible word that I only ever heard in the context of students at school using it as a horrible insult applied to me. I did my journey from denial, to acceptance that I might have been attracted to like one girl one time but that’s it and it doesn’t make me gay, to realizing that some sort of LGBT label might apply to me but not knowing which one; from hating myself for that, to slowly accepting it; from insisting that I’ll never ever tell anyone, to whispering it to a couple of very close trusted friends while swearing them to secrecy because I was convinced that everyone knowing would ruin my life, to finally being okay with it not being a secret.

That coincided with when I got into Buffy – just as being gay had finally become something that wasn’t an internal struggle and conflict and source of pain, I’d figured out that this was what I was and it was okay, and I could finally start to enjoy it a bit. Buffy was the first thing I watched where I could find a female character attractive and it didn’t turn into “Oh my God this might mean I really am gay, how do I know if I’m really attracted to her or if I’m just straight and imagining it, I’ll have to add this to the data as I figure out my sexuality, and it seems to be evidence in favour of the option that scares me.” I was able to look at that show at just think, “Wow, Alyson Hannigan is hot, I’m going to enjoy looking at her. I would sure like a girlfriend named Buffy who could kill a guy with her bare hands. This high school sure is full of attractive people.”

And it was so exciting! I jumped right in to take full advantage of finally being able to feel attraction without hating myself for it, and the first thing I did with that was develop a crush on every single female character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. To different degrees, maybe, but all of them. Including Jenny Calendar, the teacher. Including Dawn, who was a rare case of a teenage character playing by a teenage actor, but it’s okay I was a teenage myself at the time. Obviously Buffy and Willow. Faith. Oh my God I had the biggest crush on Faith. I fell in love with Tara the moment she was introduced. Anya. Cordelia. Drusilla. Even Kennedy. Faith. Did I mention Faith? I mean Eliza Dushku was gorgeous but I definitely also had a thing for the character of Faith. Then right after I finished Buffy, I watched Angel and Firefly and Dollhouse, and also fell in love with every female character on those shows.

I’ve felt mildly weird even writing this out, as when I’m 33 and have been out for years, I’m a lot more conscious of whether I’m just objectifying women who have been objectified throughout their whole careers (especially how that we’ve heard about how gross Joss Whedon was and how a lot of those women were treated badly while making the shows in question). It doesn’t seem quite as fun and exciting, and I think it’s probably a good thing to have at least a little bit of restraint in talking about which strangers I find sexually attractive. But as a teenager, after spending years with attraction to women being a source of nothing but confusion and self-hatred, I still remember how fucking cool it felt to enjoy it with no shame or hesitation whatsoever.

…I mean, obviously it was also a good TV show. There were lots of TV shows in 2008 that were full of attractive women, I could have watched any of them, I watched Buffy and the other Whedon shows because they were really good, and a huge part of why they were so good is that the very attractive women were also very good at their jobs. That seems worth acknowledging. I picked those shows to watch because they were made by people who were good at their jobs.

Anyway. Hearing Nish Kumar say that if he’s going on a podcast about teenage crushes, he’s just going to talk about Buffy the Vampire Slayer for an hour, made me remember all this and want to write it down. And made me want to say, I love Nish Kumar’s righteous political anger, but I also enjoy his relatable nerd side so much. Also, during the episode he fell over himself several times to try not to sound horribly objectifying, in exactly the way that I do when I talk about these things (including, for example, in this post). Such a relatable thing to try to find a respectful and feminist way to say “Jesus Christ Sarah Michelle Gellar was fucking hot”.

I know it's a problem for a fan to think a person they've never met is as perfect as I think Nish Kumar is. I don't need him to be perfect forever, I promise. I personally promise to not cancel Nish Kumar if it turns out he said a homophobic slur in 2006 or something. Everyone said homophobic slurs in 2006 (I was there at the time and can confirm this). But if he could manage to not do anything massively disappointing for the next while, that would be great, because he's really propping up my tiny scraps of faith in humanity these days.

While I'm at this, I may as well also say that I've been re-watching some Good Place episodes in the last few days, which is reminding me of the phase I had just after my Whedon phase, which was my obsessed with Veronica Mars phase, and involved being incalculably attracted to both Kristen Bell and the character she played. She deserved far better than Logan.

[voyageofthenautilus]

Some thoughts on Captain Nemo & Prof. Aronnax

Some recent discussion got me thinking about this, and with the start of "The Indian Ocean" and the second half of the book, I thought I’d toss out this very general thought and let other, more intelligent people than myself pile onto it, if they’re so inclined. 

So the universal experience of reading 20k Leagues is that we all fall in love with Captain Nemo, right? I sure did when I read it as a kid (as did my fellow mod). I don’t think I’d encountered a character like him before. Part of the novelty was how mysterious he was. Before I read the book where his backstory is explained in full, I had no idea what had driven him to reject human society so thoroughly, and the ambiguity was delicious. Another aspect that was new to me was how enjoyable a character he was, while not being heroic or even morally good. I remember feeling conflicted when I was young about what it meant that I liked characters like that- characters I found compelling, but who objectively were not good people. There were more characters like this that came into my life through the years, but Nemo was definitely the first. 

The first time I read 20k Leagues as an adult, I saw in Nemo traits that I recognized from a person I’d once known in real life- a horrible manipulator. The violence he causes also stood out in stark contrast with my fond memories of the character. In remembering only the more alluring aspects of Nemo’s character, I had completely wiped out the parts of him that actually made him interesting to me in the first place. Even now, as we go through this story in real time, my memory of loving the character clouds his actual actions. I’ll read one of Nemo’s impassioned speeches and start nodding along, then realize… what am I agreeing with, here? The misanthropic ravings of a bitter man who won’t let himself heal from his trauma and has found perhaps the absolute worst coping mechanism? And why am I trying to reconcile the unsavory aspects of Nemo’s character, as if I need to justify my interest in him? (There’s a whole argument here about what it means to like morally complex characters and how Nemo fans would be cancelled on TikTok if this book had been released in modern times, but putting aside those half-joking thoughts…)

All of this is to say… I feel like anyone who falls in love with Nemo as a character is experiencing something similar to what Aronnax is going through. Because as I said, Nemo reminds me of a manipulator I once knew, someone who had a certain charisma about him and was able to draw people in with his larger-than-life personality and entertaining stories, who also took advantage of the effect he had on people to unfortunately hurt them. I don’t think Nemo is necessarily trying to draw Aronnax in, at least not from the start, but the way he singles him out and shows him all of the Nautilus’ technological marvels during their very first official meeting, then exerts his dominance over him by refusing to see him again for an extensive period of time (making Aronnax wait for him), and also the thing with the panels opening at just the right time to dazzle Aronnax, Conseil, and Ned with all these visions of undersea life feels so calculated and intentional, even though I know there was no way that Nemo could have heard their conversation… All of this reminds me so strong of the behavior of that person I once knew, and it makes me feel deeply for Aronnax and see him as a victim. Aronnax is so dazzled by the abundant resources available to him and by Nemo himself, the mysterious Man of the Waters, that he’s willing to stay aboard the Nautilus and overlook the implications of atrocities that Nemo is almost definitely committing. This mirrors my own reaction as a youngster (I was 12 when I first read this book) to Nemo and Twenty Thousand Leagues as a whole, where I ended up overlooking the dark aspects of Nemo’s character, and the deeper underlying themes of the novel, in favor of OOH THE SEA IS SO COOL and oooooh edgy genius with a submarine (lol). I think this is also similar to the phenomenon of people falling in love with villainous characters and making excuses for them because they’re cute or have a tragic backstory. 

And this can be tied in to real life and how a comfortable life can lure people into a state of apathy and selfishness. I recall a time I knew someone in a creative field who repeatedly expressed racist and sexist views, and the people who worked with him claimed not to agree with him but still chose to work with him because the opportunity and benefits were too great. This is what I find the situation that Aronnax is in as the second half of the book begins reminding me of the most. Aronnax knows that something unpleasant is going on, and he knows at least one of his companions doesn’t want to stay onboard the Nautilus, and he knows they’re all truly prisoners. He’s aware that should there be an opportunity for him to escape, his companion will take it, and he doesn’t want to leave him behind. And he also at least has a strong enough sense of self-preservation that he knows escaping would be good for him, too. But he also admits that he doesn’t want to end this underwater tour of the world, and I can imagine that he doesn’t want to reckon with the idea that this person who has taken him in and opened up an entirely new world to him of wonders and beauty could be committing any unjustified acts of violence. And in my eyes, it’s not just about the voyage- Nemo himself is so compelling to Aronnax that even though he KNOWS he shouldn’t trust him, he allows himself to overlook that because his knowledge, his intellect, and maybe even the enigma itself attract him.  

Just wanted to push those thoughts out there like a kitten batting a ball. I can’t describe what a valuable and enriching experience it’s been so far to not only re-read this book as an adult, not only read (for the first time) a marvelous translation that restores the full text of the book, but also to share this experience with others whose insights push me to examine the text with a more critical eye and, in turn, examine my own thoughts/feelings/reaction to it. 

#thoughts from mod blue #voyage of the nautilus #meta #Captain Nemo #perhaps i am way off base here idk #i wrote this before the most recent update based on my recollections of the way the plot was going to go #but today's update changed some stuff for me

[ocil91]

Chapter 3 Readthrough got a bit longer than intended. Putting it under readmore for the sake of anyone who doesn’t care about what I have to say. I’ll be tagging these going forward as ‘wha reading’, so if you don’t want to see these, blacklist that.

Also I’m going with the character names as they are in the translation I’m reading. If anyone knows the names used in official translations, feel free to tell me!

I’m glad we took a bit of time to talk about magic toilets. It was really the piece of the puzzle that this magical world needed to feel complete.

Stuff like the list of magic supplies where the panel borders are drawn like pieces of paper are the little details I really enjoy. I’ve also got a great appreciation for when parts of a scene are drawn with no panel border at all.

It’s also very funny at the Magic Wand is just a completely ordinary pen. Since all magic is drawn it makes sense that a totally normal pen would be a part of any aspiring Witch’s toolkit.

With the Sap Wand and the Magic Ink apparently being derived from sap, I’m expecting to see some suitably magical trees down the line.

I love Coco’s enthusiasm but she’s understandably overwhelmed.

Exposition on how magic runes work had to come sooner or later. I’m actually quite fond of how precise it requires you to be. As far as drawing your own runes goes, you need to be experienced. As for tracing existing runes... Well Coco has shown us what that looks like.

And her first successfully drawn rune just blasts Agete with water immediately. I can’t tell at this stage if Agete is genuinely understanding of Coco’s lack of knowledge or experience or just waiting to set her up for failure. Either way, Coco is definitely rubbing her the wrong way.

Agete taking the time to explain specifically what went wrong with the rune is super helpful. It feels like she’s actually trying to be helpful but there’s a nonzero chance she’s showing out for the Professor.

...And Qifrey dips out before the first lesson can even finish. Teacher of the year.

“The time for half-hearted studies is over.” THE TIME FOR HALF-HEARTED STUDIES DIDN’T EVEN BEGIN. WE GOT LIKE A QUARTER-HEARTED LESSON. AT BEST.

“Why bother building stairs if no one even uses them?” That’s a good question. It seems like perhaps this building was designed with the intention that decidedly non-magical people would be using it, which simply doesn’t happen in the current day.

It’s nice to meet you, Alaira! It’s worth noting that Alaira immediately refers to Qifrey as a problem child. Qifrey suspicion go up.

“The Brimmed Hat Group” It’s fun to possibly have a name to go with the mysterious witch that gave Coco a book of Forbidden Magic. Also it’s absolutely delightful that Witch factions are divided by Hat Type.

So the Test gets mentioned again. Seems like it’s dangerous and particularly so at this precise time of year. Certainly not the sort of thing you’d want to throw a complete and utter novice into.

That being said it seems that Agete’s plan is to do exactly that. Agete claims to have completed the test at the age of 10 which, even without knowing what the test is, is quite impressive.

So the test is to climb a mountain and get a flower from the top. Even if it were a normal mountain that would still be super dangerous. But I’m assuming it’s a Magic Mountain. I hope a sideways water spell will be more useful than it seems.

So you’re allowed to bring three Magical Items for the test specifically restricted to household use Magical Items. I hold nothing but respect for Coco’s desire to bring the toilet. I think that should be allowed.

Agete proves interesting again, letting Coco borrow her shoes for the test without much in the way of hesitation. BUT she’s also tossing Coco out into this test while being well aware that she only has like... ten minutes of formal training.

So you only get one chance and if you fail, then you lose your chance to become a Witch’s Disciple forever. That’s rough. Qifrey has referred to the others as disciples, so I suppose they’ve all taken the test already.

I was right. It’s a Magic Mountain.... Should’ve brought the toilet.

#witch hat atelier #wha #wha reading

[arttheclown]

   okay i’m like... having a lot of thoughts about this page. mainly how happy i am to see sam & twitch again (and how touched i am that terry thought to go to them for help in the first place), but also the entire exchange between wynn & al & what i think it means for their characters, and for terry. i’ll break it down into bullet points under the cut, because this got way longer than i intended it to.

as this page demonstrates, wynn clearly doesn’t have any loyalty to any one particular person or cause - he just follows around whoever is the strongest / has the most advantage over everyone else. right now - in a twist of irony, considering how spawn began - that person is al. jason is fascinated by terry’s courage & even had a moment of understanding with him, but those feelings aren’t strong enough to override his own desperation to survive.

however, with this in mind - wynn and/or al allowed terry to go peacefully, seeing as the last issue ended with terry’s horrified reaction to the state of al. it’s interesting to note that wynn has been given repeat opportunities over the course of king spawn to kill terry & opted not to every time. makes my gay little ass wonder if there’s some underlying affection or respect there, because wynn’s choices don’t seem to have much to do with terry’s usefulness to him at this point. terry doesn’t seem to be offering wynn anything, and yet...

his decision to tell al that terry is “on the run” can be interpreted two ways, i think. he’s either selling terry out in an attempt to save his own skin, or he’s trying to gauge how messed up al is by seeing what he’s willing to do to his best friend. not to give jason wynn too much credit, but considering that wynn goes on to talk about what terry told him he saw in his vision, i’m inclined to believe he’s trying to figure out how far gone al has become - at least for now. whether it’s because he’s scared of al or is planning to use al’s madness to his advantage remains to be seen.

terry, on the other hand, seems to be turning to anyone he thinks might help him get al & this entire fucked up situation under control. wynn reveals in the new issue that terry confided in him about his dream off-panel; likely when they were alone, seeing that wynn had to explain to al that he knows what terry saw. this really cements, at least in my mind, that terry is clinging to the hope that wynn might come around & help get al under control (you know it’s bad when terry is putting any confidence in him). an “enemy of my enemy is my friend” kind of situation. the enemy being al’s instability, of course.

and then we have al, who clearly isn’t doing well or acting like himself at all. no shocker there, considering he sat on the god throne which either a) corrupted him supernaturally in some way or b) badly shook up his already-fragile mental state. he sees terry not as his oldest & best friend, but an minor inconvenience to his scheme. terry & al have had their ups and downs since pretty much the beginning of spawn, but because this writer went out of his way to establish what close friends they were, we’re meant to find that remark disturbing.

more evidence pointing to just how unlike himself al is acting? king spawn emphasized, from the first issue, that al simmons is a protector of children and gets deeply angry when they’re put in harm’s way. wynn - who has been written as callous towards children before, but not outright hateful like some of the other villains - is clearly struggling to wrap his head around the fact al would ever hurt one, especially terry’s kids.

and even if we’re going off the idea that jake & katie are demonic or supernatural in some way - and i honestly couldn’t tell you if that’s still the case or not, because trying to follow spawn canon is a fucking headache on a good day - i do not see al taking any pleasure in getting rid of them. that grin on his face is so out-of-character for him it’s not even funny. it’s pretty obvious to me that, at least right now, he is not the hero of the story. the person who’s taken over that role is terry. al needs to be rescued from himself and fast.

the last thing i’m gonna comment on is that i find the way al describes wynn & terry’s roles (on a separate page) interesting. he calls wynn a “bishop” and terry a “rook,” comparing them to the chess pieces. a bishop is less valuable than a rook, as a rook moves in any direction horizontally or vertically and is not restricted by its square colour. the bishop is the only piece besides the king (al) and queen (wanda) that may move diagonally at any point, but the rook is the second most-powerful piece on the board besides the queen; it has even more power than the king. could this line be offering some clues as to what the future has in store for these characters? we’ll find out in time, i suppose.

#al simmons #terry fitzgerald #jason wynn #spawnposting #im aware the spawn fandom on here consists of me some buddies & a paper clip but let me be autistic about it #sid's meta