#and he’s already like ‘this kid is a goddamn prodigy I wonder where he got it from’ LOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ascesabo · 25 days

Text

sometimes i want to reach through the screen and shake sabo by the shoulders because. god. there's just so much going on with him.

he's first introduced through the veil of luffy's memories- here he's just another feral jungle kid, sticking it out with ace and luffy, the 'nicer' brother in young luffy's eyes. and then boom. you find out he's a runaway noble trying to escape his abusive, neglectful family- and this changes nothing, they still get to become sworn brothers, but just as quickly as this is resolved, his asshole of a dad takes the three of them hostage. and what does sabo do? he gives up the little sliver of freedom he'd fought for, is willing to become miserable and lonely again if it means ace and luffy are spared. and then he comes home to find that in his absence, his parents have already found a replacement! great!

and he doesn't even get to address how fucked up that is, because stelly runs his mouth and now sabo's too busy trying to figure out how to stop his brothers and their home from getting burnt to the ground. he never gets to give them a proper goodbye- he exhausts himself trying to reach them, but he can't because. you know. he's ten. so where does this leave sabo? ten years old, with nowhere to go- he sets out to sea to try and start over, and for the crime of wanting to escape a terrible life, he's punished with an explosion to the face. he loses his memories, his brothers lose him- and so the cycle continues.

then the army saves him, takes him in; he's essentially a child soldier, with how prodigious of a fighter he is from the get-go. but hey, he thinks he's finally found his footing, even if his past's a blur to him- then it all comes flooding back. in the worst way possible. he sees his brother's corpse and he remembers, but it doesn't matter, does it? he's too late, ace is gone, and sabo's lost ten years of a life he could have shared with his brothers. we don't even know how (if, even) he recovers from this- except for a single passing statement from koala, asking him if he's 'had that dream again' because he'd been crying in his sleep. this is never brought up or addressed again. great!plus, we never do find out if getting blown up at the ripe old age of ten could have left any lasting fire-related trauma; and if it does, what does that mean for sabo, who's pretty much made of it, now?

both of these questions are answered at once- sabo treats the fire as if it's ace. it's ace's legacy he's carrying on, and it's ace he seeks freedom for. he copes by making sure ace lives on in his flames, and how can he ever hate the fire living in him if that fire is all he has left of the brother he never got to see again?

i just have to wonder about him, because he's got so many Issues that just. don't ever get addressed? every time we see him deal with his grief (episode of sabo, his own retelling of events in dressrosa) we never really discover anything about him. i wonder how it felt to finally remember the childhood that eluded him, just to find out he was an unwanted, replacable child. how he feels, living with the knowledge that he could have done something to save ace, that he'd failed to remember the two people he loved the most? i wonder just how terribly that guilt must weigh down on him- because where luffy's already begun to heal, sabo still sees ace in everything he does. his title of flame emperor is a direct callback to ace's final attack in his fight against blackbeard. he talks to his goddamn fire like his brother is still in front of him, which is sweet and heartbreaking and, considering his backlog of unaddressed trauma... incredibly unhealthy. i know these will probably be left unresolved for the sake of moving the story forward- but god, sabo, are you okay?

#one piece #sabo #asl brothers #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #i cannot stop thinking about him #his grief is so. silent #blink and you'll miss it #i wonder if he'll ever be able to reconcile the person he is with the person he never got to be #or if he's just. going to brush it off because Everything Is Fine Obviously #i know he's explicitly stated that he won't live in grief because ace wouldn't want him to #but coming to that conclusion when he's probably had no time to heal #just looks a lot like him holding his fraying edges together with duct tape #my poor sabo #my princess ....#anywayyyy this is just me rambling pls dont mind

353 notes · View notes

dulce-pjm · 3 years

Text

clean up on aisle seven!

word count: 3.3k

genre: casual fluff :)

summary: you really didn’t want to go on this grocery trip. and now you’re stuck trying to track down that last thing your mom needs while the clock is ticking before she checks out. but something (or someone) might just make you lose track of time.

This is your worst nightmare. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths were shallow and staggered, and you could feel droplets of sweat quickly accumulating on your forehead. You’d just suffered finals week and you could definitely say this was the most stressful situation you’d experienced in your life.

This might be where you die.

Actually, if you died now, your mother would drag you back from the grave and kill you again for being so dramatic.

You were standing helpless in the middle of the produce section of your hometown’s grocery store, desperately looking for the red potatoes. And while you frantically scanned for the vegetable- Are potatoes vegetables? Maybe they’re starches. Or a root. It isn’t important. What is important is that you have no clue where they are and your mom is currently in the checkout line, wondering what’s taking so long.

Onions, leeks, asparagus, radishes, cabbage. . .

Maybe you were looking in the wrong place. You circle the aisle, hoping you don’t look like a madwoman as you wring your hands and tug at your hair.

You were a STEM major, for god’s sake! You just crushed your sophomore finals (maybe. probably. you completed them, it’s all that matters), you were not going to let some stupid red potatoes and a fear of abandonment you’ve harbored since childhood distress you in this way.

Spinach, lettuce, carrots, celery. . .

You know, you never should have agreed to go on this grocery trip. Just an hour before now, you’d been comfortable in bed, sleeping in to your heart’s content. But it’s the holidays and you know your mom likes to run her errands with someone and the guilt was just too much. So you let her drag you out of bed and you barely got to brush your teeth before she was dragging you out of the house, too. You probably looked like a wreck. You sure felt like one.

Tomatoes, avocadoes, peppers. . .

Normally by now you’d suck it up and ask an employee for help like the adult you were supposed to be, but, just your luck, the entire section is void of any workers. Honestly, good for them. You’re sure they’re tired of dealing with hopeless idiots like you, anyway.

Garlic, strawberries, blueberries. . .

Who puts garlic next to strawberries? And how did you end up in the fruit section? Even you could do a better job organizing this place. Or maybe you have poor observational skills. You decide not to dwell on which thought is more correct.

You rush back to where you started, begging your eyes to actually work and help you with this one task.

And then: a miracle. Yellow potatoes! You scan the vicinity and...

No red potatoes to be found. Maybe there’s no such thing as red potatoes. Maybe your mom just wanted you to go away for a while. Well, no, that can’t be it. You’re certain you’ve had red potatoes before.

The stress was getting to you. By now, your mom was probably loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt, annoyed at your slow pace and mind.

You know, in many other situations you’d actually consider yourself good under pressure. Put you in a lab coat and in front of a titration and you were a goddamn genius, if you did say so yourself. But once you weren’t poring over textbooks or analyzing data, you felt completely useless. Ask you to cook and you’ll set the kitchen ablaze. Anything more athletic than a casual jog is off the table. Your friends often joke that you can’t even be trusted with a microwave. For good reason. How were you supposed to know those chicken sandwich bags can’t go in the microwave? They’re made of paper.

Other shoppers bristle past you to grab their own groceries, but all you can do is reply with a few murmured “sorries” and stand in the middle of the place looking like a lost puppy. To them, you look utterly distressed. A few shoppers consider asking if you’re okay, but little do they know there’s only one question plaguing your mind.

“Where are the motherfucking red potatoes?!”

You didn’t mean for it to slip out, but at least there’s no one close enough to hear-

A giggle rings from the other side of the waist-high aisle you’ve been staring at. Your eyes slide up to meet the gaze of a boy not too much taller than you- kind of cute too- but the important thing is that he’s staring right at you. Very obviously trying (and failing) to fight an uncontrollable grin on his face.

Your cheeks heat like a furnace. All you can do is stand and stare, caught red-handed cursing over produce at the corner grocery store.

The boy with full, boyish cheeks, twinkling eyes, and a very cute smile that you might consider infectious in any other scenario leans forward on the tips of his toes and peers at the side the aisle you’ve been intently gazing at for the past several minutes. To your horror, he lifts his finger and points just inches from where you were just looking.

“Maybe right there?” It isn’t said sarcastically or with even a hint of ridicule, but despite his genuine nature you only grow more sheepish. You wish you could shrink into your sweatshirt and never come back out.

You lower your eyes to the direction he’s pointing and lo and behold, there are several bags of red potatoes just under your nose.

“Oh. . uh. . Thanks.” You tentatively reach and grab a bag, your eyes not leaving the boy’s face. You can’t help but notice the line forming between his eyebrows and the way he cocks his head to the side. Now, that you think about it, there’s something distinctly familiar about him.

“Wait, Y/N?” Your eyebrows raise, and that seems to be all the confirmation he needs to know that you somewhat recognize him too. “I’m Jimin!” He continues when you don’t respond. “We were best friends when we were, what, six or seven?”

The memories immediately begin rushing back. Though many of your memories from back then have faded, you can remember very distinctly the elementary days full of you and a younger version of the boy across from you causing mischief. More specifically, the two of you thought up increasingly risky pranks to play on your parents and friends until one or both of you got the scolding of a lifetime. You’d nearly completely forgotten about him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you finally manage. “It’s been a while.” Jimin circles to your side of the aisle.

“Oh my god! When was the last time I saw you?” Jimin thinks for a moment. “Wasn’t it your birthday party? When we hid in the bathroom cabinet and it took them hours to find us!” The memory has the both of you giggling.

“Yeah! My mom would have grounded me for scaring her so badly if it wasn’t my birthday.” The atmosphere is comfortable. Almost as if it had been no time at all.

“I think if anyone was scared, it was you. Weren’t you terrified of the dark?” You blush despite the ridiculousness of his teasing.

“Hey! I talk to you for two minutes after all this time and you’re already back to making fun of me?” Despite their legitimacy, the words carry no malice and you’re grinning from ear to ear. A smirk plays on Jimin’s cheeks and you catch yourself studying his features. It should seem normal, but you’re slightly struck by how much he’s grown up. His baby fat is long gone, replaced with a striking and defined look despite his sweet and boyish features. His brunette locks are neatly cut, his bangs complimenting his cheeks and forming a slight heart shape on his forehead. He’s cute.

If you weren’t so caught up in your own embarrassment, you might have noticed the endeared look he’s giving you as he studies your face at the same time.

“What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “You’ve always been easy to tease.” You scoff, shifting the bag of potatoes in your arms.

“Speak for yourself, crayon-eater.” Jimin’s giggle is infectious, drawing a snort or two out of you, though you desperately try to play it off as just a cough.

“Where did you end up going? I never saw you after that.”

“Ahh, we moved to the other side of the city. It was pretty sudden.” Jimin nods in understanding.

“I guess you moved again for college, too?” he asks tentatively, gesturing to your sweatshirt. You glance down at the university logo before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, I’m just back for the holidays. You?”

“I go to university in the city. Just picking up some groceries for my family. I tend to do our grocery shopping on weekday mornings anyway, since most of my classes are in the afternoon.” You learn that Jimin is a communications major, which you think suits his personality spectacularly. Jimin is not even close to surprised to find out you’ve dedicated yourself in chemistry.

“And to think, just yesterday we were making potions from mud in your backyard. You’re practically a prodigy. Can I get your autograph? You know, for when you become a famous scientist saving the world and all that?” You shake your head, noting that Jimin is just as ridiculous as you remember him.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you muse. “But I’m leaning more towards education. I’d like to teach high schoolers one day, maybe college students too.” Now that strikes Jimin as a surprise, evident by his shocked expression. You can’t help staring at the way his lips puff out in an unintentional pout.

“Really? You want to deal with those brats? We just left high school and you already want back?” If your mom thought you were a drama queen, Jimin had you beat tenfold. He’d always been a bit of a class clown, always supplying exaggerated expressions and stupid jokes to garner as many laughs as possible. You roll your eyes.

“They’re not that bad.” You pause. “Well, they are pretty bad but I think I could get through it if I knew I could make at least one kid excited about science, you know?” You inwardly cringe at your mini-spiel. Normally once you get talking about your love for chemistry, your friends zone out or casually change the subject to avoid massive boredom. But to your surprise, Jimin doesn’t seem the least bit annoyed at your sappy, nerd-ish outlook on your career. Instead, he’s nodding with you, attentive and interested.

“That’s. . . really nice.” You blush, stopping yourself from going on a further tangent, sure he has much better things to be doing than listening to you go on and on.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You twiddle your thumbs and Jimin tugs on the sleeves of his oversized sweater. “Do you still have that cat? What did you name him... Snuggles?”

“Chubbles!” he nearly shouts with a massive smile. “And yeah, I do. He’s still overweight as ever. And old as hell. But I love the grumpy thing to pieces.”

“He was so cute! I remember cuddling with him while watching cartoons together.”

“Oh my god, yeah! That was the only time my mom would let me eat in the living room. I swear those waffles tasted better in front of the tv screen.” The story sparks a memory in your mind.

“Hey, wanna know a secret?” Jimin leans in slightly, confused but definitely interested. You pause for effect. “My mom didn’t let us eat in the living room either. I only said that because you wanted to and I thought it’d convince your mom.” Jimin feigns a gasp, putting a hand on his chest.

“Are you serious? I was jealous of you for years after that and it wasn’t even true? You said your family always ate in the living room.”

“I may have exaggerated a lot of things back then in order to impress you.”

“No way. Then do I really know you at all? Was everything a lie?” You find yourself laughing again. Talking with him is easy, like being kids again.

You shrug. “I like to maintain an aura of mystery.” Now Jimin’s the one rolling his eyes at your antics.

“Hey, speaking of Chubbles, do you want to see a picture of him? My mom posted the best picture of him on Facebook the other day.” Jimin whips out his phone. While others might find a college student doting on his cat and his mom’s Facebook a bit dorky, you find it all too endearing.

“Um, of course!” You step towards him to peer at his phone. But instead of cat pictures, all the two of you see is an endless loading screen.

“Shit. My service sucks out here. I’m sorry.” He gives an apologetic look, but you’re quick to brush it off.

“No, it’s okay. You can just send it to me later.” The connotation of your words hit you like a freight train and you’re about to not-so-eloquently take them back, but Jimin beats you, a smile is plastered across his face. A part of you wants to reach up and squish his cheeks together, but you don’t need to create any more reason for the other shoppers to think you’re unhinged. Also, personal space.

“Oh, great. I’ll just get your number-”

“Y/N.” You freeze, your head whipping around behind you to where your mother stands. She glares at you with her hands set on her hips, no groceries in sight.

“Oh, um, oops.” You muster the best smile you can but your mother is anything but amused. “I found the red potatoes!” You hold up the bag that’s been making your arms ache, as if that would magically fix the situation. She scoffs.

“And while you did, I checked out, paid, put the groceries in the car, and realized that we’d already gotten red potatoes. They were just piled under all that sugary cereal you insist on-” Her eyes flicker to the boy standing awkwardly behind you when she lets out a scream of joy. “Park Jimin!” She nearly shoves you aside to wrap him in a hug, instantly recognizing him despite years of not seeing him. Though if Jimin’s mom is active on Facebook, you guess your mom has seen plenty of Jimin via social media. While you stare incredulously at your mother, Jimin is staring at you, internally laughing at your expression.

“How’s your mother? Is she well? Healthy?” Jimin nods with a charming smile.

“Yes, she’s great.” Your mom is clutching Jimin’s hands as if she’s in her seventies and not her forties. Jimin awkwardly shifts his grocery basket to his elbow, but your mom pays no mind to the uncomfortable position he’s in.

“Oh, you’ve grown so much! I can still remember the days when you two were taking baths together!” Your face blanches while Jimin chokes. Knowing the volume of your mom’s voice, you’re sure the entire grocery store knows your and Jimin’s history now. “You know, I was just thinking about your mother the other day. When we were pregnant with the two of you, we-”

“Hey, Mom.” You place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you think we should get going? The groceries are in the car...”

“Oh! You’re right, sweetie,” she smiles. It seems that all it took was Jimin’s charm (and by charm, you mean standing there with that grin of his) for her to completely forget about your previous transgression. She turns back to Jimin. “It was lovely to see you, dear. Please tell your mother I said hello. We really should have a get-together over the holidays, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mrs. L/N,” Jimin says, his eyes trailing to you. “Sorry for keeping your daughter. We were reconnecting and lost track of time.”

“You’re too sweet. I’m sure my daughter was the one babbling on about whatever popped into her head next. It’s no wonder she got lost looking for potatoes, she’s so easily distracted. You know, we had to put her on a leash as a child.” Your cheeks flush red while you get the sense that Jimin is enjoying this a little too much, despite his awkward smile.

“Oh...” You can tell he’s doing his best to spare you the mortification, but if anything his efforts to conceal his laughter only make you more eager to end the conversation.

“Uh... Mom... Groceries...”

“Fine, fine. You didn’t seem to care that much when you were flirting in the produce aisle.” Now that is the final straw.

“Mom! Oh my god, let’s just go.” You feel like a teenager again, embarrassed and at your mother’s mercy. “Bye, Jimin! It was nice seeing you!” You grab your mother by the elbow and nearly drag her out of the store, tossing the red potatoes back onto the aisle as you go. You barely catch Jimin’s weak wave as you storm out.

“He really is such a sweet boy, I’ll have to give his mother a call.” Call. That’s right. You forgot to give him your number.

On pure instinct alone, you spring around, abandoning your mother in the parking lot to sprint back inside.

“Y/N? Y/N! Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back! Start the car!” Your mother sighs and shakes her head. You imagine she’s pinching the bridge of her nose and wondering how her child still acts like a seven-year-old chasing after butterflies.

You find Jimin not far from where you left him, skimming through the juices. You do your best not to show how heavy you’re breathing or how you’ve nearly broken a sweat. And you curse yourself for not using the university gym more often. Upon seeing you reappear, Jimin’s face lights up, albeit somewhat confused.

“Oh, hey.” He holds up two jugs of orange juice. “Pulp or no pulp?” You freeze for a moment.

“Pulp. Obviously.” Jimin nods in agreement, putting the jug in his basket. He looks at you expectantly. “And I forgot to give you my number.” You quickly catch yourself. “For that Chubbles pictures.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Jimin’s hand rises to the back of his neck nervously as you punch the digits into his phone, making a contact for yourself. If your friends saw you now, they’d think you’d been replaced by aliens or finally gone over the edge. But something in you just had to do it.

“Send me that picture, yeah?” You hand him back his phone.

“Of course.” Jimin gives you a salute, making you giggle shamelessly again. With nothing more to say, you spin on your heel and speed walk out of the store to be mercilessly interrogated by your mother.

Jimin shakes his head and smiles to himself as he watches your retreating form. He makes a mental note to go through his mom’s scrapbooks to find a childhood photo of you two to use as your profile picture.

While your mom is berating you for wasting time and questioning your intentions with Jimin, you couldn’t be happier, grinning from ear to ear. Didn’t Jimin say he did the grocery shopping on weekday mornings?

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” You nod vigorously, which is enough for her when she switches to ranting about gas prices nowadays.

But in reality, you’re not listening at all. You’re planning your next grocery trip.

At least next time you’ll know where to find the motherfucking red potatoes. Though you doubt you’ll need to remember. Something tells you Jimin will remember this for a long time too.

#bts #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts scenario #jimin scenario #bts fluff #kind of boring but short and sweet (i hope)

33 notes · View notes

thereddieficlibrary · 4 years

Text

Madi’s Fave Reddie Fics

hey y’all! figured i’d throw one of these together since it’s something i do on all my other fic library blogs lol. i’m sure i’m forgetting some, and i’m sure i’ll add them as i read new ones.

i hope you enjoy them as much as i did!!

lunchbox by sicktastic (22/22 | 104789 | teen)

Richie’s not a very nice kid.

And Eddie knows that better than anyone.

- Expert:

Today is Eddie's last day of high school.

If someone created a time machine and traveled through the intergalactic tunnel of space and time to Eddie’s last day of sixth grade and told his prepubescent self that this is how he’d finish off his high school career he’d probably be majorly confused.

If they programmed it to go back to the last day of eighth grade and told his slightly less prepubescent self the same thing, he might be a little less confused.

Nonetheless, telling a little boy that he’d end his senior year in love with the kid who tormented him for most of his life will indefinitely spark some confusion.

But the Eddie from this day and age; the Eddie who is eighteen years old and has already lived through all of that, plus some, is not confused.

He is not confused about his feelings for Richie.

//bullying //implied child abuse

Bright as yellow by speakslow (30/30 | 120337 | mature)

“ ‘Remember that hot guy I couldn’t stop turning around to stare at while watching the movie? Y’know, the one I stalked? He’s being hilarious in my math class full of nerds.’ You honestly think that’s my fault, Eds?”

Eddie felt his cheeks heating up, because Richie was right about all of it. Well, most of it. “My name is Eddie, not Eds. And I didn’t stal–”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie. See, isn’t that better? Eddie and Richie, Richie and Eddie. R plus E. It has a nice ring to it.”

say what you mean (out loud) by Redburn (1/1 | 7404 | teen)

Richie can’t help it when something heavy refuses to leave his stomach, something relentless and daunting. He looks at Eddie and can’t help but want, can’t help but need, watching this boy watch the stars and thinking he would be happy to spend the rest of his life just like this, right here standing next to him. Or, Richie realizes he likes Eddie and promptly goes through the five stages of grief.

on pointe by tossertozier (rednoseredhair) (20/20 | 72950 | explicit)

eddie was a freshman at boston university of the arts, majoring in dance with a concentration in ballet. he went to sleep early, woke up earlier & took nothing for granted.

he fucking hated his dorm neighbors, loud, obnoxious idiots who got drunk all the time. they didn't even know where the library on campus was. he didn't have any idea how the three of them, especially the one with curly hair, even GOT into that school.

“piano prodigy,” the tall one explained “got magic fingers”

eddie nearly punched him

& he didn't believe him, nobody on their floor believed richie tozier could have been a prodigy of anything, especially when he slept through midterms & mixed up the dates for finals. when eddie heard the gossip he was relieved, he was overjoyed. he thought they’d kick him out & he would finally get some goddamned peace and quiet on his floor - and more time to rehearse.

until, first day of class in january when his teacher walked in with an overzealous expression “class, we have a student who will be joining us this semester for an extra credit opportunity. please welcome your new rehearsal pianist, richie tozier.”

oh.

oh no.

Steady Feet, Don't Fail Me Now by richietoaster (1/1 | 9870 | mature)

“You know how to dance?” Eddie demands, still skeptical, and Richie is almost offended. “Yes, actually,” he scoffs with a good natured laugh. “Is that so hard to believe?” Eddie opens his mouth, but Richie cuts him off before he can tell his friend that yes, that’s incredibly hard to believe. “Don’t answer that, dickhead,” Richie says as he gets up, wiping his sweaty palms onto his jeans. “C’mon, get up.” He instructs and holds out a hand to pull Eddie to his feet. “I’m teaching you.”

Changes by NemiMontoya (10/10 | 20918 | teen)

When Richie comes to school with a new look and suddenly becomes a lot more popular, a worried Eddie realizes that his feelings for his best friend are not what he thought they were.

Find Your Fire by endversed (1/1 | 16354 | teen)

Richie Tozier meets a cute firecracker of a guy when he accidentally sets off the fire alarm in his apartment.

It's just too bad that said guy has got a boyfriend - doesn't he?

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers (11/11 | 107947 | explicit)

In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

tear it with your teeth by belby (8/8 | 32105 | mature)

"We could leave this place, Eddie," Richie says. "God, imagine that? Not having to live in this trash dump anymore. We could go wherever we wanted. A different place every night."

wonder violet by belby (6/6 | 74351 | mature)

"Right." Eddie's not sure what to think. "Well, thanks, for sticking up for me." Eddie's also not sure if he means that, but it feels like something he should say.

"Yeah, 'course," Richie replies. "You're my sister's best friend."

heaven isn't too far away by reddieforlove (1/1 | 14187 | explicit)

Eddie has a problem. To fix it, he goes to extreme measures and calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know that the person who he matches up with will change everything.

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #reddie fics #reddie fanfics #admin faves #madis faves #fave masterlist #masterlists #masterlist

315 notes · View notes

pianoandcookiedoughlover · 4 years

Text

*grabs a tissue and wipes at tears*

that’s the end of s5 folks

we’re just gonna do this chronologically because i don’t even know where to begin besides the start so . . . yeah

starting off with this shot

(sorry it’s such bad quality)

i almost fell off my bed

enough said

oof, okay, jamie vs mike.

i may be crucified for this, but i actually think there’s some truth in what jamie said about mike wanting him to go to hawkstone because he couldn’t.

mike has always been very invested in jamie’s football/soccer career, always helping him train, buying him equipment, offering to coach. and yes, of course, having a supportive parent/guardian is amazing and not everyone is lucky enough to have that. but as the seasons have gone on, some of the things mike says/does makes me think his intentions aren’t simply: “i want to be supportive for jamie.”

i first think of that time that jamie was planning to go to foxborough (that’s such a weird sentence, oh my god). the coaches there didn’t want their players to have any outside coaching, and mike got pissed at that. now why would someone who’s been such an advocate for jamie getting proper coaching and becoming a professional get annoyed at a club who is offering to get him to that point (now, that isn’t to say foxborough are angels. i have issues there as well)?

and what sort of solidified this for me was his reaction here:

saying that he’s supported him through everything may be true, but it’s all been in the realm of football. jamie has never been interested in anything else (whether he’s been exposed to anything else and encouraged to do anything else is unknown) and so mike really has only been able to support him in football. he doesn’t do anything else.

and now that he’s found something that he wants to do (or thinks he does, but i’ll get onto that) that doesn’t align with football, mike’s hands off. not, in fact, because he thinks jamie is throwing his career away, but because he thinks he’s throwing HIS career away. he’s lived vicariously through jamie and his successes and now that jamie is going after something that isn’t “real football,” he can’t support it. because he doesn’t really support jamie. he just wants him to do the things he didn’t get to do.

even more so, his reaction to this i thought added to this:

hearing that howard royale was going to let him go anyway, he’s shocked. and i think he’s always thought in his head that jamie’s been a literal prodigy, someone unbeatable. yes, jamie is a wonderful player. but he’s not unstoppable. and so when karen logically points out how hawkstone are not going to put all their eggs in jamie’s basket, he starts to realize that jamie’s just a kid. an amazingly talented kid, but not a medium he can reverse his regrets through. and i think that this is what inspires him to go and support him at his competition: he’s his grandson first, and a football player second.

i just have to ignore ian at this point because . . . he sucks

dillon thinking the vibes are off at foxborough, providing an opportunity for him to stay at northport . . .

(i am so sorry this is such an ugly screenshot)

i also couldn’t help but think of andi mack when dillon talked about coming out to phoenix:

soft girlfriends stretching together

i thought the moment between alba and zoe was really sweet actually - maybe in s6 they’ll get alba another girl to play with?

duncan turning over a new leaf and being not an asshole? we like to see it. also i really liked this shot for some reason

i’m really excited to see dillon at northport and see what he gets up to there. hopefully duncan hasn’t fooled us all and he’s really being genuine.

okay, guess we have to talk about the world fifa cup (i’m sorry, but i can’t believe that freaking jethro and jamie are the best in the world. but i digress)

the interactions between jethro and jamie were kind of weak in my opinion - like, you’re also a failed footballer, jethro, don’t know what point you’re trying to make with that. it just felt very . . . weird. rehashing something that really didn’t need to be brought back.

the whole auditorium and everything felt more for cinematic effect, trying to have some big venue for the finale. unfortunately, from what i know in this tumblr community, this was the storyline we were least interested in, and yet they put (probably) the most money into it. kind of unfortunate.

i think i saw someone mention this but i thought i’d bring it up again: the game switching between fake players and then the actors actually playing.

so, you know, kind of odd.

there were a lot of moments in this entire event where they were building up certain things, but i think it doesn’t have a remotely comparable intensity as to when the gang were all playing together in, say, the gothia cup. i think the issue is that we have no attachment to the video game, the players (even though sometimes they’re the characters), or jamie at this point, honestly. so while i get what they were going for (i think), i think both the way they went about it and the characters they did it with led to it being kind of a flop, at least for me.

let’s just say, i wasn’t jumping out of my seat waiting to see if a character that has been an asshole to a lot of his friends and ignored his family for multiple episodes can score a goal on a random video game.

i need to make a post about jamie (i’ll do that next) because this is way too long already to fit that in. essentially, though, i think that jamie never really liked playing this video game.

controversial, i know.

i’m sorry, but

why the fuck is karen letting ian take jamie literally anywhere

when i saw this i genuinely thought jamie was gonna jump out of the goddamn plane and break his entire body but obviously that didn’t happen

we don’t talk about the flashbacks to all of his wins because that just makes me sad and want to cry and they grew up so much and-

rewind a bit for dillon’s storyline

dillon’s dad goes from this:

to this:

which was a bit of a 180 but i also get that we needed resolution with their storyline. i guess my only criticism is that some of the things that his dad says are so intense and extreme, that a redemption arc afterwards is difficult.

i was really proud of dillon for this:

i am genuinely so excited to see what happens in s6, his storyline is something that not only i am passionate about, but i think has been done with the most care and emotion. i think this whole thing has so much more room for development so fingers crossed we get to see that in s6

i was so happy to see this as well:

he gave him TWO kisses!!!! it was just very wholesome, and while i haven’t forgiven him completely (this literally has nothing to do with me, lmao, but i assume dillon hasn’t either) i think (i hope) he’s really trying to change and be a supportive figure in dillon’s life for once.

and liam teasing him was cute

we are NOT crying

ahh this is such bad quality but that little tap on the stomach (see right)

and then this.

and then the turn of the camera from him to everyone else . . i just can’t deal. that was really beautiful actually.

we have a whole load of feelings but maybe i’ll save that for another post.

but also:

*approves in lesbian*

and then the music and the shotsssssssssss

and then

s6 finale?

i’m just a mess and i was begging to my phone, “no, don’t leave me” so at least we know where i stand

i swear to fucking god if we don’t see zoe and kat in season 6 i’m throwing hands

they’re gonna have to do some work on jamie’s character because right now, it’s not looking good

elliot please come back

follow up on boggy’s anxiety/panic attacks

we should make a list of things we want in s6 and send it to bbc

i really liked this finale and i’m just so excited for more. just a big thank you to the cast and crew on this season because it has been my favorite of this show and i think they’ve done an incredible job overall. they’ve put in a lot of effort and i think we all appreciate it a lot.

i also don’t think i did this on my 5x11 review/analysis/shit writing, but i’d really like to thank @jonnie-kimmins for his acting in especially that episode. it was amazingly done and it didn’t feel over sensationalized or anything, at least from my experience with panic attacks. it felt very raw and real and i really commend everyone who was a part of that.

i would tag the other actors but i think jonnie is the only one that’s cool enough to have made a tumblr account and then come and vibe with us hahaha

this was so long and i really didn’t analyze anything i just panicked (how on brand for me) so i hope you could bear to read it and yeah . . . let’s hope they can start/continue filming s6 soon!

#jamie johnson #season 5 finale #dillon simmonds #mlm wlw solidarity #football

15 notes · View notes

demaury · 5 years

Photo

Game On – High School AU | Enemies-to-friends-to-lovers AU (chap.2)

Ten years after his father shipped him off to boarding school, Jude is back to Los Angeles for his senior year. As it turns out, relinking with his childhood friend isn’t nearly as hard as it is to deal with his almost estranged father.

Zero is the typical high school heartthrob and a basketball prodigy on the way to make a name for himself. Everything should be easy, but years in foster care and physical abuse don’t make for the smoothest reunion with former teen-mom and her perfect family.

Really. They have a lot on their plate already.

Falling in love was not supposed to be an option. (read on ao3)

--------------------------

“You didn’t have to scare that poor kid.”

“He shouldn’t have fucking stared at me.”

“He was peeing.”

“Whatever,” Zero retorted grumpily as they made their way to their usual table.

Today though, he deeply hated that this table was located right in the middle of the Cafeteria. He could feel the glances of people on him as they walked by, and he clutched the water bottle tightly in his hands as a means to keep himself from bursting one way or another.

“Ladies and gents, our resident defendant,” Terrence drawled, sliding an arm around his shoulders as they hovered by their table.

“I’m gonna smash your fucking head, you know that, right?” Zero gritted, shoving him away.

Terrence laughed. It wasn’t his goddamn spot on the Basketball team that had been left hanging for half a week, Zero thought bitterly. He was about to fire off something again when his eyes traveled to the other end of the table, raking over the stranger sitting next to Kyle — who he was practically sure he had never seen around before. It was only when he met a pair of hazel eyes that his certainty vanished.

Hold on.

He knew that face.

He knew that face, and those eyes. Worse, he just knew that subtle ‘I’m-much-better-than-you’ aura emanating from him. It was there, written in the way he cocked an eyebrow, look at him straight in the eye, even to sit at their table like he had always been there.

“Well, well. Isn’t that Kinkade?” Zero said, forcing his voice to sound casual.

Zero could’ve sworn Jude’s eyebrow twitched just a little.

“Wow, you finally got bigger after all,” Kinkade replied simply.

The audacity.

What the hell was he doing here? He had left like, a thousand years ago, for God knows where. His eyes snapped back to Raquel when she started talking, reminding him that there was an actual world around him.

“Jude got transferred here from boarding school,” she said.

Zero smirked triumphantly. “Lemme guess, they got tired of you and kicked you out?”

“Why, is that something you’re familiar with?” Kinkade fired back, casually opening his soda can.

There was a sudden silence around the table as everyone just stared at them. Zero, for his part, was looking right at Kinkade, hoping to look less dumbfounded than he felt. Okay, no. He wasn’t in the mood for this. No way. Not happening.

Zero glared, the bottle crumpling in his hand ever so slightly. “Okay, yeah, that was nice. Anyway, some of us happen to have stuff to do, so I’ll see you guys around,” he articulated coldly.

He spun around and offered his back to his friends calling him out, already striding towards the exit when Kyle’s voice echoed closer. He barely glanced behind his shoulder, and welcomed the cool breeze that hit his face as he walked out with relief.

“Ducky, wait,” she protested, catching up to him. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Zero retorted, and he huffed a groan of protest when she proceeded to drag him towards the football field instead.

“I thought your spot on the team was safe?” she pointed out as they dropped themselves onto the empty bleachers.

“It is.”

“Then what’s the matter with you?” Kyle insisted, crossing her legs carefully as she faced him.

Kyle hadn’t worn anything but skirts since that one freaking day in middle school when Derek, Terrence and he had the genius idea to piss her off by stating that she wasn’t ‘a real girl’, just because she had been hanging out with them ever since third grade. No amount of apologizing could convince her to go back to jeans, and it had made being her male best friend a real pain in the ass when other guys had suddenly started to notice her.

He clenched his jaw and stared into the distance. “People are talking, and I hate that.”

“Maybe you should have avoided turning the Homecoming dance into a boxing match then.”

“First of all, that’s freaking rude coming from the one person who said Abramson deserved it,” Zero snapped.

She shrugged, unapologetic, and it made her blond hair bounce on her shoulders. “He did deserve it. I don’t take it well whenever somebody disrespects my best friend.” Zero snorted. “I’m just saying that it’s probably the most exciting thing most people will see this year. Two hotties fighting over one girl during Homecoming? That’s gold.”

He groaned in response, burying his hands in his jean pockets. “She keeps calling…and texting.”

“Did you talk to her?” Kyle asked carefully.

He shook his head. He hadn’t actually talked to Sadie since the moment she told him she was getting something to drink during the Homecoming night. Five minutes later, realization had hit with the strength of a truck launched at full-speed when he had gathered that the ‘Trav’ that she had been so keen on texting last summer wasn’t actually one of her cousins, but Travis Abramson, one of those no-brainer footballers.

If only they had merely talked.

He wanted to throw up.

“Great,” Kyle said. “I think it’s for the best, actually.”

Zero glanced at her, annoyed.

“For the best?” he deadpanned.

It had never been a mystery that Kyle didn’t like most of the girls he had been dating (she hadn’t liked the ones who had dated Derek and Terrence much either though). But still, It wasn’t like he had been waiting for her approval or he’d have died a virgin before it happened.

“You’ve never liked Sadie,” he retorted.

“Of course not!” Kyle exclaimed. “Look, I don’t mean to tell you ‘I told you so’, but-”

“Don’t you dare,” Zero glared at her, and she shrugged, pouting. “I don’t want to talk to her, and I don’t want to talk about her. Capiche?”

“Fine, fine,” she sighed, raising her hands in surrender.

There was a brief silence and Zero mentally started counting the seconds. She couldn’t keep quiet more than thirty seconds in a row anyway. He was reaching twenty-three when she suddenly turned her face to him and stopped staring at the grass.

“Have you seen Kinkade?” she asked, thoughtfully. “He got big too. I wonder what’s with you guys.”

Zero gave it a thought. Honestly, he had almost forgotten about that not-so-very-pleasant encounter with Jude ‘ever-so-perfect’ Kinkade. Just thinking about it made him frown. “Did you know he was coming back?”

“Nah. We found him this morning, all by himself. He looked totally lost,” Kyle said casually, tugging at her blond hair. “He’s cute, a real hottie now. I think Raquel’s definitely gonna call dibs on him.”

Zero cocked an eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “You’ve hung out way too much with us,” he stated, just as the faint echo of the bell rang for the next period, drowned by Kyle’s offended protests as they made their way back inside.

You’d think that being a 6’3” varsity basketball player was enough to deal with an ex-girlfriend, but apparently it was not, because Zero had found himself warily watching his surroundings between each period all morning, in order to avoid the familiar strawberry-blond head of Sadie every time he had to leave a classroom.

The only good thing, so far, was that their schedules hardly matched at all, which had been a real bother for the past month when they were still dating, but was now a sincere relief. Unless she decided to risk being late for her own classes, Zero knew for fact that Sadie was generally on the other side of the school pretty much all day long. That didn’t stop the judgmental looks he received from her various friends with whom he ended up sharing courses, but that he could deal with (he was very, very good at glaring anyway).

Last period ended and he regretted once more that someone, a long time ago, had decided that Basketball was a winter sport. It meant that they wouldn’t start practice for another month at least. Sure, he could practice with Wall and Roman in the meantime, like they had done for months now, but there was something profoundly boring about making shot after shot for two hours straight, every day.

Zero had to head to his coach’s office. He had been summoned, but he knew deep down it wasn’t to talk about the upcoming season.

“You wanted to see me?” Zero asked halfheartedly as he hovered close to his Coach, who was unlocking the door. “Don’t tell me Geyer pulled me off the team after all.”

The Coach gave him a look, the keys jingling against the door.

Jim Robertson was a man in his forties who had stopped being lean and athletic probably a decade ago. He had been his coach for the past three years, had known him since he was twelve, and when he was giving that kind of look, Zero generally knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“No, Principal Geyer did not,” the Coach corrected, then he opened the door and made him sign to get in.

Zero walked in but remained in the doorway, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder to the ground while Robertson rounded his desk. “Well, not yet, at least.”

Zero’s heart skipped a beat. Oh shit, he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

“Look, Zero,” the Coach said, opening the rolling doors of the cupboard behind him to flick through various files. “You’ve got to take care of your academics.”

There was a short pause and Zero stared, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, what?”

The Coach looked over his shoulder at him. “The Abramsons wanted you kicked off the Team. Thanks to your left hook, their kid is going to miss the rest of the football season. The fact that you were not, doesn’t mean you will never be. You should probably avoid giving them a good reason now.”

Zero pursed his lips. “I’m doing all I can,” he grumbled. He had never been a freaking genius but he was at least okay. Or at least he thought he was. Just enough to make it onto the team since his freshman year, which was more than enough to him.

“Well, let me tell you,” the Coach said, rapidly going through a file before putting it back, “it’s not going to be enough. Study more. Find a tutor. But don’t let your grades drop any more than that.”

“It’s only October!” Zero protested. “The year’s barely started.”

“Find a tutor. Period,” Robertson said with a pointed stare.

A tutor. Like really.

Did he look like the kind of guy to do extra-homework? Did he? Okay maybe he would be forced to, because it wasn’t like there were a hundred ways out of the shit he had gotten himself into. But it wasn’t like he had a choice, Zero thought bitterly as he made his way out to the parking lot. It was certainly not like he was willing to risk his scholarship, nor the one he was determined to score for next year, for something as stupid as his grades. He’d rather die than end up at the gloomy neighborhood school he would have been forced to attend if Basketball hadn’t helped him out.

He was still sulking when he climbed in Terrence’s car and they headed directly to the Saldanas’, where the rest of the gang would join them. They had developed this habit of hanging out there the year before, when Jelena and Terrence had started dating. Raquel’s mother was a surgeon, her father a reporter, her sister was attending college and her house, located in a fancy neighborhood, was as big as it was empty of living souls.

“Drinks are in the fridge, snacks in the kitchen, bla bla bla,” Raquel said from her spot on the couch when they walked in. “Where’s Kyle?”

“She had to pick up her sister,” Zero shrugged as he dropped himself gloomily on the armchair.

Terrence sat next to Jelena while Derek came back from the kitchen and handed Zero a soda can.

“You didn’t bring Kinkade?” Derek snickered as he perched himself on the armrest of Zero’s seat.

Oh. So he wasn’t the only one who had noticed that she had been all over him all day long, apparently. Seriously, he spotted them together at one point and he had almost felt embarrassed to look at them.

Raquel shrugged. “Nah, he said he had other plans at home. Besides, Mom is supposed to come home early and I’d prefer to tell her about it before she stumbles onto him, herself.”

Zero frowned. “Why on Earth would she care? You’ve got all three of us,” he gestured to himself, Terrence and Derek, “in your living-room on a daily basis.”

“It’s not because he’s a guy, genius,” Raquel rolled her eyes. “It’s because of… you know, all that shit that happened when he left.”

There was silence and Zero was only satisfied by the fact that he wasn’t the only one who looked frankly puzzled. Raquel looked around as well. “You guys are joking right? You don’t know?”

Everybody groaned a ‘no’, except for Jelena who looked like she had already seen the end of the universe and couldn’t be less interested as she scrolled through her phone.

“Okay so... His mom and mine were friends. Then Jude’s mom died and that’s when the real shit began. His dad may or may not have something to do with it,” Raquel said, crossing her legs on the couch. Her voice was literally trembling with the contained excitement of juicy gossip, and frankly, Zero was disgusted.

He had never been exactly Raquel’s favorite person (okay, he had forgotten one date, and okay, it was the first one, but she was the one who decided not to give him another chance, so it was her loss anyway), that was a fact. So, all in all, he had always expected Raquel to talk shit about him behind his back (like he cared, though). But hearing her gossiping like her life depended on it, after acting all ‘besties’ with him five minutes after he got there? Zero didn’t have a lot of principles but it sounded like this one should have been common sense.

Did he tell anyone to fuck off?

No, not really. Because it was either discussing Kinkade’s life like a Showtime movie or having everyone talk about Sadie and him. Did that make him a coward? Maybe… Whatever.

His mind drifted back to the conversation when Derek snorted. “You’re bullshitting.”

Raquel glared. “I’m not,” she retorted dryly. “You can check online if you don’t believe me. It was all over the news when it happened, how come you guys didn’t see it?”

“Parents’ shitty divorce,” Terrence shrugged.

“Didn’t know them,” Jelena said.

“Didn’t watch the news,” Derek added.

“Deadbeat legal guardians,” Zero raised his hand. “I didn’t know the Kinkades were that big of a deal,” he commented again into his soda-can.

“Really? Because Forbes magazine thinks pretty much the contrary,” Jelena said casually.

Zero frowned as she turned her phone for them to see. The network headline was flaunting, in capital letters, a list of the hundred wealthiest families in the country.

Terrence took his girlfriend’s phone and scrolled through the list before handing it back to her. “What is he even doing in a public school? I mean, I thought he was in a private school.”

Just at this moment, the front door closed and a slightly annoyed looking Kyle walked in, a duffle-bag thrown over her shoulder. “You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the most annoying baby sister in the world.”

Jelena looked up with a cocked eyebrow. “You like Taylor.”

“At this point I’m not sure she’s still Taylor,” Kyle grumbled. “Maybe she’s been replaced by a goddamn human-eating alien. Here, I picked up your stuff,” she said, dropping the bag onto Zero’s lap as she rounded the armchair, before plopping down on the couch next to Raquel.

Zero gave her a nod as a thank you and discarded his stuff next to him on the hardwood floor. It wasn’t like he’d have been unable to survive a night without it, but he had packed some random stuff when he left for Kyle’s on Monday morning and at least his history book was in there. The Coach had told him to get better grades, it probably wasn’t the right moment to forget about doing his homework.

“What did I miss?” Kyle asked, looking around.

“Raq’s daily dose of gossip,” Derek shrugged. “Kinkade was on the menu.”

“Really,” Kyle drawled, grinning broadly.

“Quit it, it was about his dead mom.”

“Oh. Nice. You guys know how to have fun,” she snickered. “How about we talk about something else?”

Raquel had not lied, her mom came back early, which prompted everyone to leave. It wasn’t that Mama Saldana wasn’t nice, but she remained a parent, and if Raquel indeed planned to give her a heads up on the Kinkade situation, they better be gone.

Zero wondered why the news about a guy he barely knew in the end bothered him so much. Part of him was feeling rather awkward at the thought of his first exchange with Kinkade, but it wasn’t his fault if he happened to have a shitty past as well, nor was he supposed to know the extent of said shitty past.

Their relationship had been based on some sort of constant bickering. They had known each other in second grade, when Zero had moved in with his third foster family. Kinkade was already good at biting back. They weren’t in the same class, but recess was enough for them to find various and creative ways to jump at each other’s throats. ‘Next time you throw that ball at me, I’m gonna kick it out on the road,’ he would yell, to what Zero would reply ‘Not my fault if you’re always in the way, you moron!’

That’s how it had worked. Apparently the fact that they lived on opposite coasts for nearly ten years hadn’t caused them to tune it down, if the Cafeteria was any indication. Zero’s eyes glanced absent-mindedly around the familiar neighborhood, and he considered stopping by the district basketball court for a few seconds, as he hopped off the bus, before begrudgingly walking past it and making his way through the two more blocks separating him from 3174 Virginia Road. It was a one-story house that Zero hated to the core, from the cheap cigarette smell constantly floating over the living-room, to the bedroom he had to share with the most insufferable kid on Earth, and the kitchen from which nothing good ever came out.

He walked in, already riled up at the thought of simply being here. Despite being a foster kid himself, Zero had little to no idea how other kids in his situation lived, if it was any better somewhere else or not. Deep down he was sure it wasn’t, and that’s probably why he had been there for almost ten years. That and, according to nasty rumors, the fact that nobody was willing to take him back — if anybody was still there to do so at all. We aren’t family. Okay? Nobody’s here because they want to be. That’s what Joey (a girl who had lived with the Delucas when he had first arrived) said to him in lieu of a greeting, before pointing back to the couple. She was slightly older, maybe ten at the time. Trust me, they don’t want it either. Nobody does. Suck it up.

Joey had left the house about two years after that and had gone back to live with her alcoholic mother. Ever since, Zero had been the oldest, aside from those four months where a sixteen-year-old boy called Carter had come around when Zero was fourteen. When the Delucas moved from a somewhat more comfortable-looking house to a much cheaper one, six or seven years ago, the number of kids narrowed down to four. Zero had stayed put, watching other kids come and go ever since.

Zero walked in, not bothering to kick off his shoes in the entrance before he bee-lined through the kitchen to the bedroom. Most people would have referred to it as ‘his bedroom’, but if anything, he wasn’t that optimistic –hence why he wasn’t surprised to find the thirteen-year-old boy, with whom he was forced to share the room, sprawled over his own bed listening to music.

Zero dropped his backpack at the foot of the second bed and his duffle-bag on the mattress. His eyes darted onto the bedside table separating the two beds. There was a binder, with wrinkled papers emerging from it and probably represented Thiago’s backpack and general lack of care; on top of the binder, a phone charger, Axe spray, and various things he didn’t really take the time to examine before he grabbed the whole lot and threw it out the wide open bedroom door. The kid let out an offended screech of protest, dropping both his stupid hood and his earbuds in a single move as he got up.

“Fuckin’ asshole!” he blurted out, standing on his two feet. Zero wasn’t remotely fazed — the kid wasn’t any taller than his collarbones —, and Thiago seemed to realize it too because he backed away with gritted teeth.

“My side,” Zero uttered coldly.

He turned his back to the kid and opened the zipper of his duffle-bag in one swift move.

“Next time you leave, I fucking swear I’ll throw your stuff out,” Thiago raged.

“Have fun trying.”

Zero emptied the bag of the various wrinkled clothes he had worn for the past three days while at Kyle’s, grabbed them and strode out of the room as Thiago was dropping his own stuff on his mattress.

Zero went to the bathroom across the hall to get some laundry done.

“I hope he beats the fucking shit out of you when he gets back,” Thiago spat from the bedroom.

#hit the floor #htfedit #mine #*#*go #shameless self-promo but you need basically 0 knowledge of the show for this one #you're actually better off without knowing kjhghjkl

3 notes · View notes

justtryingyaknow · 6 years

Note

Hey it's me the anon from earlier... I'm glad to hear you got a round 2 and are feeling a bit better! My au idea was basically that the Reds and the Blues are rival newspapers and that they are battling it out to become the main newspaper locally. You could add in some other factions if you wanted to of course. Idk I just like the concept and I think you have really creative ideas so I wanted to send in the request. Thank you for your time :)

Hello anon! Here is a very casual, slightly longer than expected response to this! I did take some creative liberty because, as recorded, I am a plot whore and I love you’re AU idea but couldn’t find a way to condense! So still rivals, but over more casual setting! Thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Grif’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He’s acutely aware that Simmons is leaning over his shoulder watching his screen, assessing his every word. The sweat on his face forces him to push his glasses up.

“Just type a damn word, Grif!” Simmons breaks, causing Grif to smash the keys ending with a jumble of letters on the otherwise blank document.

“I can’t type when you’re watching me like this! It’s too much goddamned pressure.” Grif pushes back and storms to the box of donuts he brought in this morning.

“You can’t eat right now! You’re going to get the keyboard all sticky with jelly!”

“It’s my keyboard, I can cover it in as much stickiness as I want.”

“What was that?” Donut removes an ear bud perking up.

“Fuck off, Donut!” Grif growls around a mouth of boston creme.

“Yeah, fuck off Donut!” Simmons echoes.

“Fine, at least my segment is written.” Donut pops the ear bud back in. Simmons can’t argue with him about that.

“Just write the fucking segment, Grif. Literally anything. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“If Grif’s writing it, it’ll never be perfect.” The team has really done it now. Simmons stands up straight watching Sarge raise from his chair where he’s been sitting quietly (for once). “So, if you want to be the reason we don’t make it to print this week, and there by making us lose to the damn blues, well, be my guest!” His spit flies out, coating Grif/

“Why don’t you just write it, if you’re so freakin’ perfect?” Grif reluctantly tosses the donut, now covered in Sarge’s spittle.

Sarge looks at the computer, as though considering it as a possibility. “Oh? And then I could make ya dinner, and wash your clothes while I’m at it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grif makes his way back to the chair.

“Then I could tuck you and your little sister into bed, give you kissies on the forehead?! Huh, soldier?” And there was the spit again.

“I already sat down, just let me type!” Grif swiveled the chair and immediately started cranking out a feature on a new dog park.

“Simmons! Report!” Sarge stands, power posing in the middle of the workroom. He delights in watching his worker bees buzz around; Donut getting ahead on an entertainment piece, Lopez checking the weather and business information, and Simmons red in the face checking the layout for the hundredth time that day.

“Everything is in; we just need 500 words from a certain lazy fatass who put off the article assigned to him two weeks ago.”

“200.”

“You did not write 300 words in just that time.” Simmons sputtered and rushed back to Grif’s computer. “Oh my god.”

“I’m a fucking prodigy, Simmons. Bask in my glory.”

“You did nothing all day!”

“Don’t fight the muse, man… Oh, and grab me a coke.”

“Fuck you. And even if he finishes right now, can we get it to print in time?” At the close of his question, Donut is strapping on rollerblades.

“I can do this, years of rolling around with a bunch of guys is paying off!”

“[Please, just say you were on a men’s roller skating team.]” Lopez doesn’t look up from his computer, only sighing to express his continued discomfort with the rest of the team’s shenanigans.

Across town, the rival newspaper team’s boss pores through the final copy.

“Did you… make this figure up? The average person owns 4 and a half dogs in Blood Gulch? That cannot be possible.” Church sips his coffee while staring at the statistic.

“I did the math, asshole. Caboose counted the dogs in BG and I divided it by the population.” Tucker sips his drink, which is definitely not coffee.

“Do you know anything about outliers? Caboose has like 10 dogs dude. Do you know how much he’s going to skew this shit?”

“So what, do you want me to take it out?” Tucker crosses his arms.

“Eh… You think someone’s going to call us on some bad numbers?”

“My numbers aren’t bad! My numbers are good. I have the best numbers, like 6!” Caboose sips his orange juice out of a mug, trying to fit in with everyone else.

“Yeah, we know. Thanks, buddy. The movie review is good this week, by the way.” Church turns to face him. Tucker would call him out on the kindness, but he knows that Church (despite being an unending asshole) has a somewhat soft spot for Caboose. Caboose beams.

“Ok, so we sending it to print or what?” Tucker is still standing by. “You know the reds probably are running to the shop right now.”

“When did you care about the stupid rivalry?”

“I don’t. I just like the way they all get pissed off, man. It’s fucking comedy gold. Simmons gets all red and starts yelling at Grif, you know he’s all ‘GrIF” Tucker fakes a voice crack, “ This is your fault!’ And Sarge’s face gets all scrunched up and he starts threatening us.”

“You know, it is a pretty good time. Alright, 4 and a half dogs it is. Caboose, take this to the printing press!”

Tucker and Church watch Caboose take off. Neither are in a hurry, but they do want to be there to watch the Red Post’s team explode (like they always do). Church locks up the office front when a pink figure speeds past them.

“Oh shit! Donut got skates?” Tucker watches him speed up to catch Caboose. Neck and neck, they speed toward the printing shop with a paper copy in hand.

“Why don’t we just email it, I fucking hate walking down this stupid street every damn week.” Grif’s voice comes through the office door across the way. Sarge spots the Daily Blue’s Letter team and whips his head toward the race.

“Hoo boy, get ‘im Donut!” Sarge takes off running, and something snaps in Church as he starts speedwalking to keep pace.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Tucker waits for the reds to cross the street and join him. “You idiots actually have a paper this week?”

“Did you idiots even fact check your’s?” Simmons quips back. Tucker looks at the ground, the thought of half a dog running in his mind.

“I’m just saying; it does take a team of 3 to do what you guys do in a team of 5, and we’re always on time. Because Blue’s Letter’s got it baby.”

“What possible joy do you get out of this?” Grif says from the back of the group. “It’s just a fucking job.”

“Who do you think actually made it to press first today?” Simmons pushes his glasses up to try and get a better look, but the fore group has disappeared inside the building. Before anyone can wager a bet, Sarge emerges, triumphant.

“Glory glory to the Red Post! We got in first, cheers to Donut, the wheeled wonder!” Sarge hollers while pulling Donut out the door.

“It was a good run, Caboose!” Donut comforts. “I haven’t had that much fun edging out a guy since last week!”

The staff reunites, Grif and Simmons shoving Tucker lightheartedly while Lopez stays beyond the fray.

“Yeah, yeah, but now you’re just a bunch of assholes standing on the sidewalk screaming, so who’s the real winner.” Church pushes past everyone.

“Ugh, fucking Reds, cockbite!” Grif shouts.

“Drinks on Blues! To the bar!” Sarge starts the chant.

“To the bar!” The rest of the reds respond. The group makes their way to the only bar in town, forcing everyone to suffer through Sarge’s 10 verses of his Red Post Salute song.

#red vs blue #rvb #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #sorry I'm obsessed with Red team #I literally kept looking at the draft saying write more blue you coward #but it's who I am #also very barely revised!#thank you for the request anon!#I really enjoyed writing something super casually and feeling way less pressured #Anonymous

2 notes · View notes

sourwolf-hobrien · 7 years

Text

The Adventures of FBI Stiles - Part One

Stiles wants to thank Rafe a thousand times over and he wants to throw him in the nearest pit of hell for all the shit he's had to put up with since he was offered the ability to work with the FBI. Sure, he was used to skirting the law, hell it felt weird when he WASN'T. But this was the FBI for fuck's sake. And okay, there were a lot of people involved in the application process, and things easily could be lost or messed up, but on the chance that he got found out, Stiles could go to prison. Guantanamo Bay at this point, for all the things he'd seen on FBI time.

Not to mention all the people that he'd come in contact since he got his official FBI badge. Would he drag every one of them down with him too?

Okay, okay. So maybe he could convince the big guys in charge that it was all on Rafe for this? He was the one who said he could help Stiles in to the FBI. He never said it would involve ILLEGALLY entering the agency without the usual four years of college, the strenuous background check, and security clearance.

Well, the security clearance was a work in progress. Even just the basic clearance takes about 60 days and he'd only just been in DC for a month. He may have been given the account info of his superior so he can access the more top-secret databases. (Top Secret clearance can take up to 9 months, and there were important baddies Stiles had to help catch. Legal channel could wait, apparently.)

For the background check, god, the favors Rafe must have had to use to interview Stiles' neighbors and practically everyone in Beacon Hills about him, and NOT make him sound like a psychopath or serial killer … The FBI personnel file on Mieczyslaw "Stiles" Stilinski was wrapped in blackmail, secrets, lies, and NDAs of all involved so that Stiles looked as wonderful and sought-after as possible.

On paper, he was the well-behaved son of the Beacon Hill's sheriff. Glowing school record; salutatorian, right below Lydia Martin, of course; edited compliments from Finstock (the original of which Stiles found and vowed to frame in the future). Every interview of neighbors and acquaintances (especially nosy Mrs. Carson) were nice and normal. Comments from the staff at Sarah's Café was void of any mention of supernatural events or odd mentions of him having bruises constantly and blood always showing up on his clothes when he'd show up at their diner at ridiculous hours of the night. He looked so stellar, Stiles didn't know if anyone would believe he was the same person as his file.

* * * * *

By the time Stiles was leaving Beacon Hills after the Ghost Riders disaster, Rafe had already begun processing Stiles' FBI application. (He still thought about finding someone to complain to and demand recompense for his pain from that nightmare)

Sometimes Stiles had to stop asking questions, because the whole goddamn town was a disappearing act for three months before he left. That almost definitely meant that Rafe had people working on him getting in to the FBI for a while.

Thankfully Scott's dad had realised that there were things that went bump in the night and the rag-tag group of teenagers and Derek were actually trying to fight off those creatures. So it was only slightly surprising that Stiles was offered to work with agents on the more supernatural cases. Stiles may have tried to ask about the X Files division a bit to enthusiastically as soon as Rafe told him the news.

It was actually quite a quick thing, because one minute Team Good Guys finally defeated the Big Bad of the Month (the semester, really at this point), and the next Stiles was told there was a spot at the FBI waiting for him if he wanted it. It was really only after Stiles was packing up the most helpful magic books and clothes that weren't flannel and screen tees, did Rafe decide to mention that bringing Stiles on as an agent involved all kinds of illegal actions. Yet, because of unexplainable and gruesome crimes reaching dangerous levels and Stiles' extensive experience, the people in charge of "It's Not the X Files, Stiles" Totally the X Files were willing to do whatever it took so Stiles could work for them.

* * * * *

After a decent flight and barely a second of reprieve in the almost swanky hotel room, all paid for by the lovely people at the FBI, thank all the deities that shine upon him, Stiles had to report to some random business building to meet the people in charge of his fate.

He had another X Files joke on the tip of his tongue the moment he entered the right room, but was instead intimidated in to sitting down in the nearest chair by the angriest, buffest guy in a suit he'd ever seen. Perhaps he had a history in the military, maybe a bodybuilder. Definite possibility of both.

"I have been fully briefed on you Mr. Stilinski," the man glowered at him. Well, that was DEFINITELY not a good sign. Stiles' eyes went comically wide in concern and slight fear.

"Yes, I do mean fully." The man showed no signs of letting Stiles speak any time soon. "Agent McCall has used resources in extreme measures to help get you here, and my people speak very highly of you. I have seen what you can do." Stiles began to open his mouth to respond, but the man didn't allow him. "My people have our ways. As soon as Agent McCall found our office and informed us that all unexplained events had not only been explained but handled by you and your friends, we began doing what we could to keep an eye on you. You aren't the easiest group to keep track of."

Despite the importance of the situation, Stiles was already getting distracted by his surroundings, specifically the stacks and stacks of papers covering the handful of tables that filled the room. It was a pavlovian response of sorts; whenever his father had case files strewn across the dining room table, he did whatever it took to get as much info as he could when his dad wasn't looking. So being surrounded by manila folders, envelopes, and the occasional photo peeking out of the papers, they were all just calling his name to be looked at.

He had started running his hands across the papers the moment he sat down, but he was about to reach for one of the files, when he thought better of it. "Can I..." he thought twice about waving a folder in the guy's face. "If these are above my clearance, this is severe cruelty to my curiosity," Stiles flailed his arms in the general direction of the mountains of paper.

"Technically everything you do and see here will be above your security clearance." The man looked both smug and severe at this, which only made Stiles want to mentally swear louder. "The legal aspects of your work will be handled by me and the rest of the team. You will be officially documented as an intern with us, but will act with the capacity of a fully-fledged agent."

Stiles spluttered in surprise. "You actually trust me with that much power? Didn't you just say you were fully briefed about me?"

"With the amount of cases and depth of research you will have to go through to solve them, you'll want all the resources available to you."

"Hey Giles!" A voice started from the hallway, getting closer to the room. "You even tell the kid what our division is, or are were you planning on shrouding us in a shadow mystery for a few more hours?" Someone with frazzled hair poked their head in to the doorway, eyes quickly narrowing in mock annoyance at Giles (if that actually turned out to be his name, Stiles might have to rethink his life choices. And maybe sharpen a stake or two.) "You know we got a shit ton of cases to solve by the Winter Solstice so if you could hurry this up, that'd be great." The door quickly opened the rest of the way, and they more or less swooshed in to the room, now clearly panting. And maybe smoking a bit? Yep, there were definitely singe marks and wisps of smoke throughout their clothes.

They quickly walked over to Stiles and patted his shoulder. "Actually no, scratch that. There's a dragon manifesting itself in the relics library and the ghost of Hannibal haunting my ass, so I'm gonna steal our illegally acquired prodigy here and get to work on saving the day. You know where the timer is, I'm trying to beat my personal best of the week." Trying to keep track of what was happening, Stiles hadn't realized he was being whisked away by the crazy scientist type agent.

Halfway out the door, as his brain restarted, Stiles halted. "Wait, what are you timing? Are we saving the day or working on your lap time?"

Scientist Agent smiled so brightly as they answered. "I'm trying to beat my personal best. Current winner is when I stopped the rise of zombie Hitler, a coven of witches planning on killing all readheads – no really, they were close, I was a bit slow on that one, and solved an argument between two different culture's angels of death. In between breakfast and lunch."

God, okay. What kind of lives do these agents have? "That must have been quite the morning," Stiles eyes couldn't get wide enough. Maybe he could pick the team's brains for their adventures and knowledge on different creatures. Good thing he had a copy of the bestiary encrypted and hidden in his suitcase. If he could just ask a few questions about the crazier days, he'd probably put the whole Hale library to shame, he'd have to find a larger file system to hold it all, he could...

"What? No. Just a slightly shorter morning. That was just last week. And I've been trying to get as fast as the rest of the team. I'm one of the slower ones when it comes to saving the day. That's why I've got the timer."

Shit. What kind of abilities did Rafe think Stiles had? They know he's human, right? And this division of supernatural crime fighters expected him to what, be able to do what they couldn't do?

The smell of smoke was getting stronger, and yep, he just heard a lion sized roar blended with the sound of paper rippling.

"You know how to calm down book dragons, right? This one's in a rarer dialect of Arthurian Welsh, and whatever monk copied this did a really bad job. But it shouldn't take too long. God, you're lucky today's apocalypse is so easy."

Oh fuck.

(A/N): Sorry for the late posting, had some terrible car troubles. I should have this up on AO3 soon. Check back for new updates on this as 6B continues

info on this story HERE

#Sterek #Sterek fanfiction #i'm about to make a proper Sterek AU for 6B #Teen Wolf #eternalsterek #sterekwritersnetwork #stiles stilinski #FBI Stiles #Rafael McCall #my writing

36 notes · View notes

sugary-shot · 7 years

Text

Our Waltz, a Kuroko no Basuke fanfic

Summary: Seijuro Akashi is a prodigy in the violin. However, after the tragic demise of his mother, he lost his reason to play the instrument and stopped playing altogether, locking it in a room he thought he'd never go in again.

Eight years later, a boy known as Tetsuya Kuroko entered his life and showed him his music. Will the 15 year old Seijuro learn to love it again or will he find a new reason to hate it?

[Originally posted on Wattpad]

Chapter One

"Nothing in this world is free; I know that now."

Seijuurou Akashi once wondered why his mother had always asked him to play the violin whenever he visits her at the hospital. He once wondered why his father was so strict in the violin when he was never interested in musical instruments before. He wondered why his parents always seemed like they wanted to cry whenever he plays the violin.

But now, he knows.

His mother was diagnosed with some kind of disease he didn't really know about. He didn't understand when he was a child; after all, what seven year old understood the cruelty of the world? When he played the violin the last time he met his mother at the hospital, he didn't understand why she was crying. And after he was done, she had a coughing fit and he clearly heard her last words;

"I'm glad the last thing I hear before I go is the way you play, Sei-chan. I hope I'll get to hear it again."

After that, the machine that always let out this kind of monotone beeping Seijuurou was once amused started going crazy, and his father was calling out to his mother.

The rest were all vague to him.

They were all nothing but mere blurry memories he no longer cried over. He no longer felt the intense pain in his chest after a few weeks.

He just felt.. empty.

Opening the door to the school's music room, he put his bag aside and stood in front of the piano, his fingers caressing the black and white keys before pressing one of them, creating a sound that resounded the silent room. Sitting down, he began playing a familiar tune; Liebestrud, Love's Joy.

Something isn't right, he thought. He stood up and took a step back and at that time, a basketball came smashing the window. He remained there, unmoving before a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"I'll get it!" The redhead heard, and so he stood there, arms crossed as he awaited the person to reveal itself. When the door opened, the person shrieked. "Akashi-kun?!"

"Good afternoon to you too, Momoi." He answered, a smile on his lips. "Would you please explain why a basketball suddenly came here and apparently almost killed me?"

"Oh! Funny thing you asked," she began babbling to the point Akashi couldn't even understand. Raising his hand, indicating she should stop, Akashi rubbed his temples before enunciating, "When I told you to keep an eye on the basketball club, I meant to make sure they don't slack off; not try goofing around like buffoons."

"I'm sorry," Satsuki immediately apologised. The captain shook his head, "Clean this up, I'm busy." Momoi nodded, turning to a metal storage box that was placed at the back of the room, taking out a broom and a dustpan before quickly dusting the shattered glass and throwing them away.

"Akashi-kun, by busy, did you mean this?" Momoi asked after throwing the glass away. "That's right. Hanajima-sensei asked me to play the piano for an event this weekend." Momoi sat beside him, then took the music sheets. "Love's Joy? Isn't this for the violin?"

"It was originally for the violin, but there are notes for the piano." He replied. There was a quiet pause between the two before Momoi voiced her thoughts out, "Akashi-kun, are you really quitting the violin? Your mom wouldn't be happy."

"I haven't touched the violin since her death. It would take me some time before I can actually play the violin like I used to." It was a lie; he did play the violin from time to time, although it was just to check if it was still working; it was a present from his mother so even if he didn't play it anymore, he still wanted to keep it.

Momoi was his childhood friend, although they didn't really reveal it to anyone else. "You do realise you're running away, don't you, Seijuurou?" She knew about his mother's death eight years ago. She knew he was running away when he said he was going to stop playing the violin and start the piano. But she kept quiet. Although his face remained neutral, she knew that deep down, he was still hurt.

She sighed, if Akashi isn't going to say anything, then so be it. Then, she remembered something, "Oh yeah, are you free this Saturday?" Seijuurou turned to look at her, brows furrowed. "I am, why?" Momoi smiled. "A classmate of mine wants to meet up with Ki-chan. Apparently, he likes him. I guess he could attract guys, too." Ki-chan, or Kise Ryouta, was a friend the two met during grade school. Momoi actually fell for him when she saw him, a love at first sight thing but quickly got over him when she found out he was a playboy.

"Why invite me?" Honestly, Akashi never cared who Kise dated, but since Momoi suddenly invited him to their little date, maybe it meant something interesting was going to happen; though it wasn't like she was going to spill any time soon.

"Come on, Seijuurou! You never go out with us anymore, giving excuses like you're busy and whatever! Besides, I don't want to be the lonely third wheeler! This kid is a friend of mine and he plays the piano too! Maybe you guys could talk about it and you can actually get a new friend for once." Akashi scoffed. Nevertheless, this guy did sound interesting. "Fine, message me the information later so I can adjust my schedule. Now get out, I need to practice."

Punctuality was something that always mattered to Akashi. He couldn't be late even for a second unless he had unavoidable problems such as student council president meetings and the like. The fact that the two teenagers that told him to meet them at the nearby park at 1:30 pm sharp and yet they themselves weren't there yet certainly made him tick. He sighed, turning around and fished out his phone from his pocket to call the two before something- no, someone caught his eye.

A male around his age who possessed teal coloured hair on a tree, calling out to a black kitten. The kitten didn't look frighten, but it did crawl towards the boy; only to scratch his hand and run higher up the tree. The said boy flinched and the branch shook violently, making him lose his balance and fall.

Out of reflex, Seijuurou ran towards him with the intention of catching the latter; though he was a second too late and instead, the boy fell on top of him. Well, at least he cushioned his fall. That's something, right?

"Are you alright?" He questioned, and received a groan and a nod. "Thank you," the latter answered. Just before the heir to the Akashi conglomerate began his query, he heard the two teens he had been expecting since ten minutes ago.

"How many times do I have to tell you about punctuality?"He reiterated, sitting up as soon as the tealnette got off of him. "You are late, again. Explain." Kise clasped his hands together, immediately apologising to the former. "I'm really sorry, Akashicchi! My manager suddenly called and I had to drag Momocchi since she was with me."

Clearing his throat to announce his presence, he turned to Momoi and Kise, nodding in acknowledgement. "It's nice to meet you again, Momoi-san, Kise-kun." He turned to the redhead and nodded at him as well, "I assume you're Seijuurou Akashi? It's nice to meet you, I'm Tetsuya Kuroko. Momoi-san told me about you coming along. I apologise for dragging you into this, and thank you for cushioning my fall earlier."

Akashi was about to reply when, "Eh? Kurokocchi fell? Oh my god!" Kise immediately pulled the latter towards him, checking if he had any injuries or not. "I presume you already met Ryota before?" The latter nodded. "Well, the pleasure's all mine. Also Ryota, please stop harassing Kuroko in public; it's indecent."

Kise gasped at the other's statement. "It is not! Right, Kurokocchi?" But the response he received was, "Honestly Kise-kun, I'd rather have you keeo your hands to yourself. Thank you for worrying about me, though." At that time, all of them could see Kise , the oh so famous model slowly having a mental break down.

"So, where are we going?" Momoi decided to leave the blond to suffer alone, then saw the violin case that Tetsuya was carrying. "Tetsu-kun, did you have violin class before you came here?"

"Ah," he turned to look at his violin case and shifted, not noticing the redhead beside him staring at the case since earlier. "No, actually. I have a piano recital today."

"Piano recital? Then why did you bring that violin?" Kise, rising from the mental break down, looked puzzled. "Well," he turned to Akashi, "when I heard that Seijuurou Akashi was coming, I thought of giving him my old violin. I'm not using it anymore, so you can have it. And I'm not taking no for an answer." He shoved the said casing to the other, and the redhead took a step back. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," Kuroko replied. "So, a piano recital? When is it?" Kuroko turned to look at his watch, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "It's about to start."

Silence.

Punctuality was something that always mattered to Akashi

"Then what are we standing here for? Let's go!" Momoi shrieked. Akashi on the other hand, was stunned. Okay, hold the fuck up; he almost got killed, he got dragged to be a third wheeler, he literally got sat on, he got a violin from someone he never even knew about, and now he's being dragged to this piano recital? Okay, he honestly loved the piano -not as much as the violin, though-, but this was too much for him. He was already having a headache.

"You guys can go on ahead, I think I'll pass." He turned around but before he could walk away, his wrist was grabbed by the male who started the whole shenanigans.

"You come too!"

Decided to edit the whole goddamn story. I,, I didn't know how to end the chapter so I decided to bullshit my way through. Yeah. Hope you liked it!

« Previous ¦ Next »

#my fanfic #kuroko no basket #based on shigatsu wa kimi no uso #akashi seijūrō #kuroko tetsuya #momoi satsuki #kise ryota #Our Waltz

2 notes · View notes

crossgartered · 4 years

Text

P5R Liveblog (14/?)

Confidants good. (Haru arc end)

[[MORE]]

Mementos...

Baphomet, huh? Guess I'll try Kouga

Oh crap I forgot to resummon my fusion components

YES MORGANA HARU SHOWTIME

Aw, that's it? I thought it was going to be something wild based on what Mona said

This does actually make sense why she needed Mona's help, specifically, though

I really do like how they've changed Ryuji's ambush skill. It's way more optional now, and you get xp from it. And it seems like a persona will get experience if you stealth-kill a shadow that would give you the same persona? That's pretty cool

Oh, a Futaba & Iwai interaction! Not really something I considered, but tbh it makes a lot of sense! I'm down. Found family alllll around

Oh thank FUCK I'm not sure if this is a relocalization thing or if he says something later but I'm so glad that Mishima now believes me when I say that he changed his own heart without any stealing involved

It was really sad that he didn't think he was strong enough to divert from his course on his own. And that he thought I would lie about something as important as that! I'm glad that this doesn't seem to be the case anymore. Hopefully

It's too bad Mishima & Ann don't interact much, outside an apology after Kamoshida and a very short exchange during the school trip. I feel like they'd have a lot to talk about. Even if it's them dancing around Shiho and everything associated with Kamoshida. But if they got to talking about Thief stuff, in earnest, without the oh-surely-i-dont-know-what-you-mean, they could have a discussion about bringing out the courage within people's hearts. And requests, too, obviously. Hmm.

Oh what if he interviews her (as Panther!) For his book/documentary?? That a really makes a lot of sense and I'm into it and I want a short fic now

Dammit

Don't worry, Kawakami, I'm rank 9 with him. I have been very counseled.

HELLO YOSHIZAWA

LETS EAT LUNCH TOGETHER YOSHIZAWA

oh she's inviting Maruki as well. Okay I guess that's fine

...DID YOU TELL MARUKI ABOUT HIS OWN GODDAMN PALACE YOSHIZAWA

Oh, good, doesn't seem like you have.

Hooooooooo how are you going to answer this, Yoshizawa?

That's not really very accurate

*Iwai voice* YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL

It still boggles the mind that we never saw her when our hideout was the rooftop. I saw her talking to a teacher about taking care of the flowers on like one of my first days of walking around the school.

Maybe she had a club or something. Or studied somewhere for a certain time and then came up. Or maybe it only took a little bit after the first few days and we delayed enough that we came up after her. Did we really just miss each other those times? Seems weird

...

"This party's totally the best one so far!" Oh dear.

Listen, we know that Makoto's the one who stole the data, but Akechi didn't actually say he didn't steal it from her. I wonder if he also took some info from her? Probably not, but... It's a little weird

It's interesting to me that none of them consider that Okumura's Shadow didn't return to his real self before the Palace collapsed - that he was acting again when he started sobbing, and that he wilfully committed a final act of betrayal

Or that he was maybe a little too caught up sobbing to return before it was too late.

Or that he was hit by a chunk of debris or fragile machinery.

"That said, it's safe enough to say that you aren't the murdering type." Thanks, Sae.

...in the Featherman game, is the player character going to turn into a villain? Bc that's what it looks like. Lol

FINALLY KINDNESS MAX I CAN TALK TO SOJIRO NOW

No, dude, you should be going after her. She wants to hear she's wanted by you.

Yes, good, he comes up to talk to her on his own.

*CLUTCHES CHEST*

Hierophant rank 7 is an absolute treasure

Tfw you need a stat maxed to advance a social link and then the link gives you more of the stat on the ranks afterwards #thanksforthekindnessiguess

Shinya's voice...! It's still. Something. *Sigh*

"...Whoa! The mark of the Phantom Thieves! They hacked this site!" Hoo boy. Your voice actor, kid...they could have done better.

#LetShinyaSayFuck

Sae, you're gonna be so embarrassed when you learn "where [I] learned to handle a gun"

Mishima no

Futaba's canonically into DnD. Hell yeah.

: / Aww. I usually get max knowledge before finals. This kinda sucks. And I was so close, too.

Hmm. I'm don't think Haru managed to say entirely what was on her mind. Is that even her full wish?

Side note, but I'm actually really proud of her for visiting a counselor. She doesn't trust easily, and she doesn't take care of herself on an emotional level very much, I don't think. She kinda bottles it up and then relieves stress by using her axe, whether it's on wood or on shadows. She takes care of everyone else and never talks about herself, and avoids going into detail when people ask if she's okay. She's been raised to be dutiful and proper and there's a stigma on mental health stuff

And despite literally all of that, she goes and visits a counselor. Even if she can't figure out what she wants to say, she did that. I'm really happy for her, even if I'm also a little sad. I hope she got something out of that, even if it was just a moment's respite.

You know, I read a really great fic where the writer did Yusuke's social link but with Ryuji being there instead of Ren. And there was a p4 manga where Yosuke did the Naoki social link instead of Souji. It's really interesting to see the social links interact.

I wonder who would be a good choice for Haru's link. Yusuke would be an interesting choice - they relate on a lot of points, and he has Thoughts on business. Maybe that would change her conclusion at the end, though. But maybe if he's already had his Hope added? Hmm

Makoto would also be an interesting choice. I feel like she would start doing a lot of research and would encourage Haru to research with her. I wonder how good of a listener Makoto would be. The two of them have a nice dynamic, though. It's kind of an easy one. Also, this way she wouldn't have to worry about burdening her kohai - she tries to keep it casual but she does still think about it

Ann and Haru hardly ever interact. I don't know what they'd be like 1 on 1. I'll have to think on it more

I don't think Haru would talk to Futaba about this. Their perspectives are too dissimilar, based on life experiences. Plus, Futaba is a prodigy. They have some similar mindsets - the keeping busy to distract oneself, for example - but I just can't see her talking about this with Futaba 1 on 1. And for Futaba to be there for moral support! That'd have to be a wiretap/bugged phone situation. And lots of texting.

Oh, but Futaba could tell her if someone was doing something shady with finances. She's know a lot about this kind of stuff from when she did Medjed/Alibaba stuff. Hmmmmmm...

Food for thought.

I kind of thought that Ryuji would be the best choice considering how passionate he is, maybe I'm wrong about that

There's also Morgana. But I'll think about that later. For now, let's continue the game

I wonder how they changed her confidant skills. Hopefully they're more useful this time around. With more variety.

#p5r liveblog #p5r #p5r spoilers #persona 5 royal #long post #this one gets emotional at video games

0 notes