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master-sass-blast · 4 years

Text

Of House and Home.

Aaaaand back to the wedding themed stuff!!!

(Also next week’s fic is the wedding fic! :D)

Summary: your friends make a vykup nevesty of sorts for you and Piotr after your wedding rehearsal --and there’s a very big surprise waiting for you at the end of it.

Rating: T for mild references to sex, references to childhood trauma, and swear words.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin.

Set after the ending of “The Moments in Our Lives Leading Up ‘Til Now.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

The ceremony rehearsal goes off like a dream. Everything goes smoothly, no tech errors happen, Piotr actually laughs when you switch out your vows for a joke version made entirely out of cheesy pick-up lines…

Perfection, short and simple.

The dinner party afterwards also goes flawlessly. You and Piotr had opted to order pizza to keep it simple and friendly for everyone, and it basically amounts to a massive pizza party with your dearest friends and family.

Except the two of you are getting married tomorrow –and also you each shove cake in each other’s faces because it’s fun, but you hadn’t wanted to ruin your dress.

Everyone chuckles and claps as you wipe your respective faces off –and also as you wipe each other’s faces off because it’s kind of hard to get all the frosting off without help—and then Neena stands up. “Alright, so, some of us planned a bit of a game for the groom-and-bribe-to-be for while everyone ate. You two are going to have to answer questions and preform tasks for some hints that will help you earn a prize at the end.”

Piotr raises an eyebrow, but grins anyway. “Sounds like vykup nevesty.”

“We were deeply inspired,” Wade comments, waggling his nonexistent eyebrows.

“What’s the prize?” you ask, wiggling in your seat a little.

“You’ll find out at the end,” Neena says as she taps at her phone screen. “Alright, who’s ready to watch!” She grins when everyone else cheers. “Okay, first question: what is each of your favorite foods? Piotr, you answer for Y/N, and Y/N answers for Piotr.”

“Pancakes or Cheetos,” Piotr says automatically, the picture of confidence.

“Yeah, but which one?” Neena retorts.

Piotr’s face goes blank, prompting several chuckles from the crowd. “Uh… they are both equally beloved?”

“Pick one.”

“Wait!” you interrupt as Piotr mulls it over. “This is one of the questions I put for the actual vykup nevesty! What the hell!”

“We had you write some extra,” Neena reassures you. “Just for this.”

“I think… it is pancakes?” Piotr says, shooting you an unsure glance before looking back at Neena. “She has me make those for her most often… so… pancakes.”

“That’s… correct!”

The crowd –which is really just Piotr’s family, Yukio, Ellie, Russell, Wade, Kitty, and Nate—lets up another round of cheers and applause.

You stare at Piotr when Neena turns to you for your answer. “Uh… uh… uh…”

“Come on!” Ellie interjects when you blank out for too long. “This one’s easy!”

“It is not!” you protest. “He eats weird stuff! Like Grape Nuts! And plain baked chicken! And raw celery! No one actually likes any of those things!”

“Okay, yeah,” Ellie concedes. “But there’s only one thing he makes a point to carry around with him on a daily basis.”

You gape at your fiancé as he starts laughing. “Protein bars? Your favorite food is protein bars? It’s protein bars—” you turn to Neena really quick “—his favorite food is protein bars. Really?” You turn back to Piotr. “No one likes those that much!”

“They taste good!” Piotr defends himself between chuckles. “I like protein bars. You like Cheetos.”

“Cheetos actually taste good!”

“They do not taste like anything!”

“You guys have one point!” Neena interjects while everyone else laughs at your antics. “Next question: what is each of your two’s favorite look for each other?”

“Literally anything, but especially one of your sweaters and a pair of jeans because you are forever telling me how adorable I look when I wear your sweaters,” you fire off after a moment of thought.

Piotr nods, smiling softly. “That is probably best answer. And you…” He frowns. “I feel like… when I wear nice suit… but I am not sure…”

“Babe,” you say with mock seriousness. “Think like me. Think about how I would answer this question.”

He stares at you for a moment, then his expression shifts to one of annoyed endearment. “When I wear nothing. That is what you like best.”

You grin impishly. “Hell yeah.”

“Ding ding ding!” Neena says while everyone else chuckles. “Another point for you two! Alright, last question: what is the funniest thing either of you has said during sex?”

You stare at Neena while Piotr turns red and buries his face in his hands. “Wait, what?”

“Essentially, what is the funniest thing that has been said while the two of you were having sex and who said it. You both need to have the same answer, and you can’t coordinate on this. So take a minute to think, and then when you’re ready say it at the same time.”

“Why would you write this as question?” Piotr murmurs as Mikhail cackles.

“I didn’t!” you insist. “Otherwise, I’d know what the answer is!”

Wade raises his hand, waggling his fingers as he smirks proudly.

“Of course,” Piotr grumbles, shaking his head. He glances over at you. “I have my answer.”

You start laughing. “Yeah –I mean, it’s kind of obvious.”

“Alright. Three, two, one—”

“The time I said I thought you’d—” You break off into peals of laughter, almost falling out of your seat. “I thought you’d be bigger!”

“The time you said you thought I would be ‘bigger,’” Piotr says at the same time, pursing his lips together as he chuckles.

The uproar from the crowd is immediate. Everyone starts laughing –Alex almost chokes on her drink, while Illyana scrunches up her face like she wants to forget having ever heard that, and Mikhail actually does fall out of his seat.

“I can attest,” Wade says, raising his hand. “That he is sized proportionately.”

Piotr chucks a plastic fork from the cake-face-smashing endeavor at Wade’s head. “Shut up.”

“That’s a match!” Neena announces. “Which means you have a total of three points, have passed the first challenge, and have earned your first hint!”

You take an envelope she offers, and open it to pull out…

Two house keys on key rings.

You and Piotr both frown as you examine the keys.

“We already have keys to Xavier’s,” you say as you look back at Neena.

She just smiles like she knows something you don’t –which, given the setup of this game, is pretty accurate. “It’ll make sense at the end. Alright, the next challenge is couple’s yoga!”

You and Piotr both groan while everyone else laughs.

“You guys need five points to get the next hint! Each pose is worth a point, and there’s ten poses in total, so there’s some room for error on this one.”

You stretch your shoulders as you stand up. “Alright. What’s on the docket?”

The short answer: nothing easy.

Granted, you and Piotr are in good shape and aren’t exactly super… un-limber, but it would seem that your beloved friends and family have taken into account your height differences in picking the poses –meaning that they picked the ones where Piotr’s massive size makes everything extra difficult.

“Absolutely not!” Kitty shouts when you try to fly yourself into the right position. “That is totally cheating!”

“It’s within my ability set!” you argue. “No one said I couldn’t use my natural abilities to do the poses!”

Fortunately, the two of you manage to do five of the poses successfully and get your next hint…

Which is a receipt for two welcome mats, a set of champagne glasses, and a bottle of champagne.

“It’s the right thing,” Neena says when you try to hand the receipt back to her, under the impression that she may have handed you the wrong thing. “Do either of you have any guesses about what the prize is?”

“Fuck if I know,” you mutter as you scan the receipt again before setting it next to the keys.

“Alright, last challenge.” Neena walks so she’s standing behind two chairs, which Alex and Nate just so happen to be seated in, respectively. “You two have to make these to cry.”

You snort. “What the fuck?”

“Clarification: you’ll be talking about why you love your spouse-to-be and when you knew you wanted to marry them, that sort of thing. The goal is to make each of our soldier types here shed sappy, weepy tears of joyful emotion.”

Piotr simply stares at his mother, looking dumbfounded. “I think I have seen you cry… perhaps ten times? Less than?”

Alexandra simply smirks and shrugs at her son.

“I’ve seen you cry twice,” you say to Nathan. “And one of those times was due to eyedrops.”

“Alright, time to start cutting those sweet, sweet onions!” Neena cheers as Ellie pulls out her phone and starts filming. “Piotr, you’re up to bat first. Why do you love Y/N and when did you know you wanted to marry her?”

Piotr shakes his head, smiling softly. “I love everything about her. Everything there is to what makes Y/N ‘Y/N.’ And I knew within first year.”

“Of dating?” you ask, almost incredulous.

“Yes, but also… I think within knowing you,” Piotr amends. “I knew that if you were interested in me and were interested in marriage, that was what I wanted. I knew I wanted a partner like you, someone with tenacity and excitement for life, and lucky for me you were interested.”

Mikhail mimes gagging and sticks a finger down his throat.

“Y/N,” Neena says, ignoring the eldest Rasputin’s antics. “What about you?”

“Is it a cheat answer to say ‘ditto?’” you ask, which earns several chuckles from the room. “No, no… I mean, I like everything about you, too. I like how gentle you are, how much you invest in the kids you teach, how patient you are… with me especially…” You giggle at him while he smiles at you. “And as far as marriage goes…” You quirk your mouth to the side as you think it over. “I mean, I don’t think it was so much a point of me realizing I wanted to marry you as it was… me realizing that I was ‘marriage material.’ Like, I definitely had those points of ‘man, this dude is awesome and I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I’d love to marry him someday,’ but those really coincided with me realizing that I’m worth being loved in the first place. And I’ve always been happy with the concept of marrying you, but I think it really all solidified in the last two years because I finally got past the fear that… I don’t know, that my biological parents would be right and I’d wind up all alone, and I was finally able to trust in my own worth enough to stop doing the anxiety questioning thing of whether you’d really stick with me or not.” You frown as you look up at Piotr. “Does that make sense?”

He smiles and nods. “Makes perfect sense to me,” he murmurs as he bends over to kiss your forehead. “Also, I think we win.”

You look over, realize that both Alex and Nate are wiping tears from their eyes, and pump both your fists in the air. “Yeah! Exploiting childhood trauma for the win!”

That prompts shocked laughter from everyone –especially Mikhail, who collapses to the ground while practically howling with laughter.

“Alright,” Neena says as she hands you a folded-up piece of paper. “We’ll call that win. Here’s your last hint. This should be everything you two need to figure out what your prize is.”

You unfold the piece of paper—

It’s a top-down view of a massive estate, with a larger building in the front surrounded by a sea of grass and a few trees, with a band of trees all around it, save for one spot that’s been cleared out and has a decently sized house in the center of the clearing.

Piotr frowns as he stares down at the picture. “What… what is this?”

“It’s Xavier’s estate,” you say. You recognize it from flying over it often enough. “But it doesn’t have that building at the back.” You tap the house in the clearing which normally would be –should be—trees. “Did someone photoshop this?”

“It’s not photoshopped,” Neena says. “You’re right that it’s a picture of Xavier’s estate.”

The two of you stare up at her, completely stumped.

“What else did you get?” Wade prompts the two of you. “What were the other hints?”

“Two keys and a receipt,” you say.

“What was on the receipt?” Ellie asks, grinning broadly.

“Welcome mats, champagne, and champagne glasses,” Piotr reads off. “And we also got keys.”

“What kind of keys are they?” Neena asks. “And what do you use welcome mats for?”

“They’re house keys,” you say as you hold up one of key rings. “And welcome mats…” You gape as the lightbulb goes off in your head. “Wait, what? What? What!”

Piotr’s right behind you on the realization train. “…No. No. You…”

Neena points towards the back of Xavier’s property –the ceremony’s being held outside, which means the rehearsal was outside, and you’d all opted to eat outside for simplicity’s sake. “Go check it out, guys.”

You immediately book it towards the back of the property, and get about ten feet away before you realize Piotr isn’t following you because he’s picking up all the hints. “Oh my gosh, come on!” you exclaim, grabbing his hand and yanking him towards the tree line.

Sure enough, once you two get close enough to the back of the property, you see a clear cut path in the trees and underbrush that you don’t remember being there the last time you were out here.

You dart down the path, with Piotr close on your heels. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit—

It’s a beautiful, two story white house with a wraparound covered porch, a pitch black shingled roof and dark blue shutters on all the windows.

You clap a hand over your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you take it all in.

Piotr comes to a stop behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he gawks at the house. “Bozhe moi…”

“It’s a house, baby,” you whisper. “It’s our house.”

And that ultimately does it for you. You start crying and turn to face him so you can bury your face in your fiancé’s chest.

Piotr hugs you close, kissing the top of your head as you cry tears of joy. “It is. It’s ours.”

You look up at him and realize he’s teared up as well. “I love you so much.”

He beams down at you as he wipes off your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, too. So very much.”

You kiss him passionately, deeply, then grin up at him when the kiss ends. “Wanna check out our new house?”

He lets out an excited giggle and nods. “Sure.”

The two of you climb the steps of the porch –and there’s one of the welcome mats at the front door. There’s a bit of hesitation over who should unlock and open the front door, since it’s both of yours’ new home and this is both of yours’ first time being here, until you suggest “putting it in together” with a waggle of your eyebrows, at which Piotr laughs and agrees, and then you both slide the key into the lock together and turn the handle together—

And then the door’s swinging open, and Piotr –ever the gentleman—ushers you over the threshold first.

It opens into a hallway that leads straight back to the rest of the house, save for one room on each side of the front entrance. There’s what looks like a living room type of room on the right that’s otherwise closed off from the rest of the house, and what is probably going to wind up being a dining room on the left that has another entrance at the back of the room that you wager leads to wherever the kitchen is.

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur as you look around. “I almost don’t want to walk in. I’m afraid of ruining everything.”

Piotr kisses the top of your head and gently nudges you forward. “Go on. It is your home. You cannot ruin it.”

There’s a powder bathroom further along on the right side of the hall, and then the space opens up into a spacious kitchen on the left and “hang out” area on the right that has a fireplace built into it. The space on the right has a hallway that leads to a different room on the side closest to you, and on the side furthest from you is a staircase that leads up to the second floor. Between kitchen and the living area space are a set of French doors that overlook the deck and yard space.

“Wow.” You press a hand against your chest, throat constricting with emotion as you take it all in. “It’s really beautiful.”

“It is,” Piotr agrees quietly, just as awestruck and overwhelmed at you are.

The two of you poke around in the kitchen first. There’s a bottle of champagne and two glasses sitting on the counter, along with a card that says “Welcome home” that’s been signed by your friends and family on the inside.

Piotr pops open the bottle and pours a glass for each of you. “To being home.”

You grin and clink your glass against his. “To being home.”

The kitchen’s already fully set up as far as the appliances go. There’s an oven with a gas range, a fridge, a dishwasher, and a microwave installed, ready for use. The cabinets and drawers –of which there are plenty—are empty, but that’s not a problem. They’ll be filled as you and Piotr and your future children grow into the space.

On the left side of the kitchen, towards the back, is a door that leads to a massive pantry space –which, as you suspected earlier, connects to the dining room.

The two of you head back to the kitchen and connected living area and head down the smaller hallway, which leads to two doors. The first, at the furthest end of the hall, leads to a flight of stairs –which tuck under the main set of stairs by the kitchen—that lead to a basement, and the other door—

Opens to Piotr’s art studio, which already has everything from his old studio in the mansion in it. It’s even set up the same way he had it set up in the old space. Hell, even the windows are oriented in the same direction.

Piotr gapes as he takes it all in, no doubt noting how perfectly the space as been set up to replicate his original studio. “How did we not notice any of this happening?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, laughing slightly. “I really don’t know!”

The two of you head up the main flight of stairs to the second floor, and are greeted by more doors than you originally expected.

You look up at Piotr and find your shock mirrored in his expression. “These… these would all be bedrooms, right? Why do we have so many bedrooms?”

“I do not know,” he admits. “I guess… we should look.”

Four of the doors lead to what look like bedroom spaces. All of the closets have built in shelves and drawers, and one of the rooms also has a built-in full bathroom.

One of the doors is another full bathroom with a double sink vanity and a separate “toilet closet” attached to the space.

The second floor is clearly designed to host a lot of people. But does that mean you’ll be having a lot of guests, or…

The last door leads to what is clearly the master suite –which already has the bed from the room you two share, along with the frame designed to hold Piotr’s weight in and out of armor, set up next to a set of French doors that lead to a balcony.

Piotr’s desk and chair –also designed to take his full armored weight—are also there, and next to them… are not your original desk or chair, but a newly built desk and a regular office chair.

You pick up a sticky note attached to the top of your desk.

Xavier needed his furniture for some incoming residents. Didn’t want you to go without a desk. -Dad.

Piotr just shakes his head as he stares at the room. “Seriously, how did we not notice this happening?”

There’s a full bathroom attached to the suite, along with a closet with more built-in shelves and drawers—

And several boxes containing all your two’s clothes.

“We are the most oblivious idiots in the world,” you laugh when you see the boxes. “There’s no other explanation.”

Piotr hugs you against his chest. “Good thing we are getting married.”

You grin up at him. “I certainly like to think so.”

By the time the two of you head back downstairs, everyone else has gathered on the front porch –except for Alex, who’s stepped over the threshold and is peering around despite Nikolai’s protests.

“Okay,” you say when you reach the front door. “How did you guys even pull all this off?”

“We all chipped in,” Neena says. “Your uncle helped, too. Once we realized the problems you two would have finding a place to live with your mutant statuses –especially with Y/N’s history—we wanted to make sure you’d have a place to live and grow into. Xavier was cool with us building on the property since Y/N’s here under a protective order and Piotr’s the future headmaster, and everything kind of worked itself out from there.”

Wade mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “lazy writing.”

“So yeah.” Neena smiles. “Welcome home. Do you guys like it?”

“We love it,” Piotr says as he wipes tears from his eyes. “It is… it is more than we could have ever asked for. It is more than you all should have done.”

Wade waves his hand dismissively –albeit with dramatic flair. “You’re basically the most grade-A, decent people to have ever lived. That means you deserve good shit. It’s happening. Let it happen.”

Hug are exchanged all around, along with repeated thank you’s—

And then Nikolai starts sputtering in mildly embarrassed sounding Russian when Alex starts poking around in the front of the house again.

“They have not seen inside yet,” Piotr translates to you when you shoot him a curious look.

“Go on! Show them!” you encourage, waving him off. “I’ll catch up in a couple minutes.”

Piotr kisses your cheek before ushering his family inside—

Which leaves you on the front porch with Nate, Neena, and Wade, since everyone else went inside with Piotr and his family.

“There’s four extra bedrooms upstairs,” you say quietly, looking between the three remaining people for some sort of explanation.

“We wanted to make sure the space would take care of your needs so you wouldn’t have to add onto it or move,” Nate says, equally as quiet. “I did a quick look into future records.”

Which means those four bedrooms are going to be occupied long-term, which means –given that it’s the most logical explanation—that you’re going to have at least four kids, depending on how everything times out.

And, granted, there’s a lot of ways to have kids, but your hand still goes to your abdomen of its own accord as you look back into the house. Seems like the future is here.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #alexandra rasputin x nikolai rasputin #look this fic is part of my 'has nice house with nice things' wish fulfillment fantasy #which will probably never be realized because capitalism #so let me have it sldkfjlsdjflsdkjfkldsjf #thank you #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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izupie · 4 years

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So I entered the Fruits Basket Gift exchange over at @lgbtfurubanet and my giftee requested a genderbent story, and one of the ships they had on their preferred list was Kyoru, and I thought this sounded like a great challenge!

So here’s a gender swapped, fluff filled, festive cookie baking story for my giftee, Allison (who I can’t tag because I don’t know their tumblr name!) Happy holidays!

————

[AO3 LINK]

It’s an unseasonably sunny day for the ass-end of December, Kyoka decides, as she practically burrows herself further down into her futon. It makes the task of getting out of bed practically impossible, when she’s so warm and comfy, and it feels like forever since she had a day off from school to just enjoy an extra-long nap. An overdue extra-long nap.

She was usually the first one up in the house, though sometimes Tokuro was already making breakfast by the time she came into the kitchen. Kyoka often found herself wondering if he even slept those nights. He always seemed to be smiling a little bit too hard those mornings – with a smile that looked not quite right, despite how hard he was obviously forcing it on there. Bad dreams maybe?

Not that it was any of her business.

Kyoka turns over and huffs into her blanket, trying to force out the thought of Tokuro’s sad smile. Today was a day of napping. That included no annoying dogs or rats and definitely no thinking about him.

As if summoned by the very thought, Kyoka perks up automatically as she hears the soft tones of Tokuro drifting up through the floorboards. She immediately pulls her duvet up over her head, but even that isn’t enough to drown out the sound of Shihori’s cackle of a laugh that answers him and assaults her ears. Tokuro’s pitch raises, though now she can’t hear what he’s saying, and Kyoka frowns as she pulls the quilt back down. She’s not quite sure why it bothers her so much when something is making him unhappy, but even just the idea of Shihori being a nuisance to him this early in the morning is making her face scrunch up in annoyance.

Someone needs to get that dog a leash.

Kyoka finally throws off the blanket completely and shoves on the closest clothes to her she can reach; a quick glance reveals she’s wearing a black sweater and khaki cargo pants, then she runs a quick hand through her orange bob, hoping it’s not too tangled from sleep, as she pounds down the stairs barefooted.

Shihori looks up and freezes in place as Kyoka enters the kitchen, wooden spoon deep into her mouth, while Tokuro flaps his hands in a panic beside her.

“P-Please put the spoon down Shihori, y-you could get sick from raw cookie batter like that,” he says with a concern that makes his voice fast and high.

“Buh itsh sho tashty,” Shihori just about manages, with her mouth still around the spoon, as she places a hand to her cheek and swoons.

Kyoka makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat that makes Tokuro jump on the spot as he turns in surprise to see her in the entrance to the kitchen, though it only takes a beat for his face to brighten instantly into a smile. Kyoka stamps (hard) on the impulse to smile back.

“Good morning Kyoka!” Tokuro chirps.

Kyoka folds her arms tight over her chest. “M-Morning,” she acknowledges, then turns to Shihori with a scowl. “You’re disgusting.”

Shihori is dressed in one of her more casual kimonos, open so low on the chest that it borders on inappropriate, and there’s a bag over her shoulder.

“You’re going out?” Kyoka asks out loud.

“Mm,” Shihori hums, licking the spoon thoroughly clean before she hands it to a concerned looking Tokuro. “Only to the main estate. Oh, don’t look at me like that Tokuro, don’t you know that dogs have iron stomachs?”

“O-Oh, they do?”

“Absolutely. I can eat anything, and I’ll be totally fine.”

Kyoka blinks. “What? That’s not true.” But her voice has less fire in it that she wants as doubt creeps in, and she glances at Tokuro as if his expression might tell her the truth, even though he always agrees with whatever Shihori says as much as she does.

Goddamn that dog’s gold-class bullshitting always makes her doubt the stuff she already knows is true.

“Oh, Kyoka,” Shihori wails, as if fatally wounded, “so little faith in what I tell you. Tokuro always believes me.”

I’m supposed to be napping, Kyoka remembers with an internal huff as she resists the urge to outright growl, but instead I’m dealing with the fucking theatrics of the ‘adult’ of the house.

“I’ve even eaten Hatsumi’s cooking,” Shihori adds in a proud voice, “though I suppose if she’d ever poisoned me, she could have just treated me straight after. Not really in any danger if a doctor gives you food poisoning, right?”

“Unless she does it on purpose,” Kyoka snaps.

Shihori cackles another laugh and shakes her head, though Kyoka notices she doesn’t disagree. She finally gives them both a wink and turns to leave the room. “Have a fun morning you two, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Kyoka chokes out a cracked, “Just go already!”

Another cackle and Shihori is finally gone. The front door slides shut with a definitive click.

Kyoka sighs loudly and feels her shoulders sag, feeling like she’s just lost some of the years off her life. When she turns back to Tokuro he’s already at the sink washing the spoon Shihiro had just been licking for dear life (gods, she’s gross) and drying it off with a towel. Only then does she notice the big bowl of what must be cookie batter on the table, the big pile of plastic cookie cutter shapes, and the tubes of different coloured icing covering almost every available surface.

“What’s all this?”

Tokuro brightens and a soft embarrassed blush blooms onto his nose.

Kyoka feels like someone has punched her in the chest and kicked her in the stomach all at once. She hadn’t really paid attention to him when she’d first walked into the kitchen, trying to deal with the headache that was Shihori, but now he’s all she can look at and, shit, the boy is trying to kill her. He’s wearing an oversized sweater in a brown that’s almost the same shade as his floppy hair, underneath denim overalls. She remembers Tokuro bashfully telling her that he has no fashion sense once, and that he prefers plainer clothes, but even at the time she could only stare blankly back in amazement because he clearly has no clue that this stuff makes him look cute as hell.

It makes her a bit self-conscious of her hastily thrown on clothes, creased from the floor, and her un-tied, un-brushed hair.

Kyoka realises his brown doe-eyes are wide and she’s completely missed what he’s just said. “What?” she snaps, harsher than she intended as she tries to wrestle her feelings back under control.

He blinks and goes back to the bowl of cookie dough. “O-Oh, um, I said I’m baking holiday cookies. B-But I didn’t want them to be just Christmas themed, so I thought I’d make them… festive… zodiac… animals.” Tokuro ducks his head down with a shy smile.

That’s so him, Kyoka thinks with a fondness she wishes she could stop as easily as she stops the small laugh that wants to escape her lips.

The big pile of random cookie cutters does seem to contain a whole collection of different animal shapes, so Kyoka makes her way over and picks them up at random. They’re all there: rat, cow, tiger, rabbit… the whole zodiac. A shape catches her eye and she realises there’s a cat shaped on there too. It makes something fluttery and warm flap in her chest.

By the time she’s turned back around Tokuro has started rolling out some of the dough.

“And let me guess, you’re gonna to give them out to everyone, right.” It’s not even posed as a question, because she already knows the answer.

Tokuro nods excitedly. “Yes!”

Kyoka definitely can’t stop the smile that tugs up her lips then, and without another word she begins sorting out the shapes into order. She frowns at the rat shape as she places it at the head of the group, then grins to herself as she pushes it down and puts the cat cutter there instead.

“Kyoka?”

“Yeah?”

“Um…”

“I’m helpin’. That a problem?”

“N-No! It’s just… you don’t have to. I don’t want to take up your time on our day off school.”

Kyoka snorts. “It’s fine. Not like I’ve got anythin’ else to do anyways.” She ignores the thought of her futon.

Tokuro says thank you each time Kyoka hands him a shape cutter and it winds her up slowly more and more each time. His soft voice is so shrill and high when he’s panicked (which is often) but it sounds entirely different when it’s just the two of them. Sometimes she could kid herself that he has this voice just for her. She shakes her head and folds her arms again as Tokuro pushes down on the last shape and places each cookie onto a baking tray for the oven.

The instant the oven door is pushed closed Tokuro says, “Phew,” and wipes a hand over his forehead, brushing across his fringe and messing it up.

Kyoka feels an unexpected jolt of longing to brush it back into place. Instead she says, “Your fringe looks dumb.”

Tokuro laughs and smooths it back down.

Kyoka wants to jump into the oven with the cookies.

“So, what’s with all the icing?” she says, trying desperately to go for ‘I’m so casual, I definitely wasn’t thinking of touching your hair’.

“Well, I wanted to do zodiac animals, but I still wanted them to be festive, so I’m going to put different coloured scarves on them. And I want to do all the animals in different colours too. So I, well, I needed lots of tubes,” Tokuro says, as he turns the base on a kitchen timer with a few clicks.

“Seems like a lotta trouble to go to for some cookies.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind, it’s no trouble at all really. I just… I like doing something nice for everyone. And with it being nearly Christmas and everything, I thought this would be fun.” He smiles. “I don’t really have much money to spend on Christmas presents, and it’s not like they’re going to be especially professional looking cookies, but…”

“Look, everyone’s gonna appreciate anything you make them. Trust me. And don’t even worry about presents or nothing. Buying presents for all the zodiac members would be insane – there’s no way you earn enough money to shell out that much. Especially since half of ‘em don’t even deserve you spendin’ your money on them in the first place.”

Tokuro’s face softens as he rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “B-But, um- I think your family- the other zodiac members- I feel like they’ve been so nice to me. And it’s nice to return those feelings in something tangible at Christmas. Something that says, ‘thank you for knowing me’. I couldn’t not get them anything, even if it’s small.”

Kyoka feels her cheeks warming and she looks away sharply to hide the blush she knows will be there. “Still think some of them don’t deserve it,” she gripes, “especially Yukari.”

Tokuro laughs good-naturedly and turns to wash up the cooking equipment he’s finished using in the sink. “Everyone deserves a gift at Christmas,” he says belatedly, and Kyoka notices his smile has faded as he looks at the water.

She wonders if he feels his dad’s loss more at this time of the year. She wonders what kind of gifts they got each other. Did he bake cookies for him too? She bets that Kyodo Honda spoilt his son rotten at this time of year. But with the things that really mattered; like time spent together, love, good times, that sort of thing. It sounded like the Christmases she’d spent with Master, who’d always tried her hardest to make it a special time for Kyoka. Up until Master had taken her in, she hadn’t had a single a happy Christmas time throughout her entire shitty childhood.

Kyoka moves to the sink with the dishtowel and begins to dry off some of the clean cookie cutters, which makes Tokuro look up in surprise and take a breath (to probably tell her that she doesn’t need to help) but she shrugs and snaps, “I wanna help,” before he can get a word out.

She cringes at her own tone and delivery, and desperately wishes she could spend a whole conversation with him without snapping or saying something she didn’t mean, but when she peeks a look over at him, ready to apologise, his smile has returned. Kyoka hopes there’ll come a day when she can speak to him without messing up and losing her cool, but she’s glad it looks like he knows her well enough to know that she doesn’t mean it. It makes her feel like they’ve got something unspoken between them, because he knows her better than anyone her own age has ever done.

The kitchen timer rings just as Tokuro is about hand over the mixing bowl for her to dry, and it makes him jump so badly that he loses his grip and drops it back into the sink with a splash that peppers them both in soapy water. Kyoka flinches backwards while Tokuro yelps.

“I-I-I’m so sorry Kyoka!” he says in a fluster, turning to her immediately.

Kyoka splutters and wipes her face. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Jeez, you’d think you’d just accidentally murdered someone or somethin’ the way you panic.”

“I’m sorry!” he repeats, his expression worried.

Kyoka lets out a laugh. “Stop apologising.”

“Sorr-” He clamps a hand to his mouth.

“That’s better,” Kyoka says with another laugh. She sighs as she continues warmly, “You’ve got bubbles on your face.” Then without thinking she reaches out a hand and lightly brushes away the bubbles from his cheek.

She pauses.

Tokuro’s eyes are wide above the hand still clamped to his mouth.

Kyoka snatches her hand back and rubs her own face free of bubbles, trying not to let her internal screaming show on her face; Why did I do that? Don’t fucking caress his fucking cheek like that, what will he think?!

There’s an awkward pause while Kyoka tries to think of something to say, until Tokuro suddenly yelps again. “The cookies!” He rushes over to open the oven door and he’s about to reach in for the baking tray until Kyoka reacts just in enough time to throw an oven glove at him.

“Gloves!” she chokes out, trying not to let the image of him grabbing the tray with his bare hands float into her mind.

Tokuro thanks her in a wobbly voice as he pulls the glove on, grabs the tray, and sets it down onto the counter. He sighs deeply and wipes his gloved hand across his forehead while Kyoka feels her whole body unclench as she lets out a breath.

“They’re fine,” Tokuro whispers in a happy voice, “they’re safe. A perfect golden brown.”

“Maybe you should save the washing up for after the cookies are done next time,” Kyoka suggests, even though she knows, with a cold, guilty feeling in her gut, that it was more her fault that he got distracted than anything.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, smiling at his creations, “I think you’re probably right.”

Kyoka frowns at how readily he agreed with her, but she pushes her guilt away – the cookies turned out fine anyway, didn’t they? – and instead grabs a plate from the cupboard and fans the food gently to cool them down quicker for the icing. Tokuro beams at her and she looks resolutely down.

Once they’re cool enough Kyoka puts the plate down and watches intently as Tokuro pipes icing over them with surprisingly steady hands. Whenever he needs a new colour, she helps find the tube he needs and hands it over. Their fingers brush together once or twice and they nearly drop the tubes.

“You think we could mix some chilli powder into this one?” Kyoka asks cheekily as Tokuro begins to pipe lilac icing over the rat shaped cookie. “Could be like a Christmas surprise,” she adds with a barely restrained laugh at Tokuro’s panicked refusal. “I’m just joking. Wouldn’t want her to think you can’t cook or somethin’ I guess.”

She wonders if she imagines the extra care Tokuro takes in decorating the cat shaped cookie. Or the light blush on his cheeks as he looks up and smiles at her when he’s done.

They both laugh at their combined confusion of how to make the seahorse cookie look like it’s wearing a scarf, and how sincerely Tokuro tries to give it a happy expression. It doesn’t really work, but she thinks it’s the happiest looking seahorse she’s ever seen anyway.

When all thirteen are done they both stand back and admire the festive looking zodiac animals. But Kyoka’s face scrunches into a deep frown as she counts them all again, and she looks up at Tokuro, trying to keep her voice steady as she asks, “Wait, where’s yours?”

How had she only just noticed that there are only thirteen cookies there. Why didn’t he make one for himself?

Tokuro laughs lightly and looks down. “Oh, well, since I’m the one making them, I didn’t think I should make myself one. It seemed greedy somehow. And besides, they’re all gifts for the Sohma family. Not for me.”

“But you are part of the Sohma family,” Kyoka huffs before she can stop herself. She realises what words have tumbled out of her mouth when Tokuro’s wide eyes snap back up to hers. He looks a bit like he’s about to cry and she doesn’t know how she’ll deal with that so her voice comes out rougher when she tries to backtrack and say, “W-Well- I-I mean, y’know- you live here with us and- it’s like you might as well be part of the family or something. As messed up as it is…”

Tokuro is practically beaming at her, his whole face lit up by some expression that Kyoka can’t even comprehend. Something like family. Belonging.

“Alright, alright, look, just dry off that mixing bowl and grab me out the ingredients.”

“Huh?”

“The mixing bowl. The ingredients. So I can make another cookie.”

“Wh- N-No, don’t got to any trouble for me!”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Kyoka says, echoing exactly what he’d said to her. “I want to.”

They both blink at each other in silence, and she wonders if her blush looks as intense as his, then he finally follows her instructions.

Kyoka mixes up what she needs to and rolls out the dough, then reaches hesitantly for the cat shaped cookie cutter.

She hopes her voice holds steady as she says, “Since you don’t have any other shapes I’m just gonna use this one again, okay?”

“Y-Yes! I told my dad that I’d be born in the year of the cat, so we can both be the cat cookies. I’d love that!”

He smiles and Kyoka’s entirely sure she must still be asleep in her futon and none of this has really happened at all.

When they’d had their first real conversation, where Tokuro had confessed that he’d wanted to change his zodiac animal for the cat after his dad told him the old zodiac folk tale, Kyoka had been flustered as hell, but some part of her still screamed that it was a lie. She hadn’t known Tokuro back then, and she didn’t know that he was the most genuine person she’d ever met or will meet. To hear him say it again, now, when she knew he meant it – that he’s happy to be lumped into the ‘year of the cat’ with her – it’s both the scariest and best thing she thinks she’s ever experienced. “I’ll decorate it after, so you’ll know which one is for you,” she says eventually, swallowing the lump in her throat. “And you can make whatever else you want with this leftover dough.”

Tokuro excitedly gets out a knife and begins cutting out more festive shapes by hand while Kyoka places the extra cat cookie on the baking tray, ready to go into the oven with the others when Tokuro has finished.

“It’s a Santa hat,” he proclaims proudly as he lays an oddly shaped cookie on the tray.

“Hm, looks like a banana with fluff on the end to me.”

“Oh no, really? Do you think it’s too thin?”

“I’m kiddin’. Looks fine. Almost as good as the Christmas tree there.”

“Th-That’s supposed to be an elf…”

#fruits basket #gender swapped kyo x tohru #kyoru #gift for Allison #my writing #furuba fanfiction #kyo x tohru

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p-artsypants · 5 years

Text

Longest Night (13) Resisting

And Marinette had thought Highschool had been hard. Right now, in this moment, she’d give anything to go back to those petty arguments and gossip fueled drama.

But she couldn’t. Instead, she and Adrien were trapped here, being punished, humiliated, tortured, for being heroes, all broadcasted for the world to see. At least she and her kitty were in this together. For now. Whump!Fic

Ao3 | FF.net

Sorry this chapter is a day late. Busy weekend.

I thought I was going back to torture, but I have more I want to tell during this time stretch. Later in this fic, I anticipate there will be a few back to back chapters of torture. Since I won’t always show them from the watcher’s point of view.

—

Alya and Nino returned to school. It was nearing lunch time, but everyone was still in class, allowing Rena Rouge and Carapace to slip into their respective bathrooms undetected.

“Hey pretty girl,” said Trixx sympathetically, “how you doing?”

“I…I’m not great.”

“That’s okay.” The little fox said, nuzzling her cheek. “It’s okay to be upset, especially in this situation. But you’ve got me, Nino, Wayzz, and the parents.”

Alya smiled a little at that. “Thanks Trixx. It’s nice to have encouragement in my pocket.”

The bell rang, indicating that lunch was starting and students would be coming out soon. The fox grinned back and then swooped into his hiding place.

Nino was waiting for her outside, and held out his hand as she approached.

She worried her lip, “hey um…I’m…I’m not sure if I’m up to going to class. After all that…”

“I think we should.” Nino said simply. “Our classmates know what’s happening, and they know how close we are. I think it’s best if we’re around a group of people that can support us, rather than be alone in Adrien’s room.”

She thought about it for a moment, and then agreed. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Let’s see if we can find a group to tag along with to lunch, huh?”

Coming back into the courtyard, they noticed plenty of schoolmates milling around and chatting. Upper classmen, lower classmen, other classes, they were all just together in the courtyard. But the aura was rather somber.

In one such circle were several students, including Kim, Mylene, Rose, and Juleka (unfortunately, the most gullible group in the class) gathered around a bench.

“Hey guys,” said Nino, approaching. Though his voice stopped when realized someone else was talking.

Lila.

“Of course, the FBI even came to talk to me! All the way from the U.S.! Since I am Ladybug’s best friend, I would be a large target. They thought that maybe Salo would try to use me against them. But as Rena Rouge, I would be able to defend myself. I’m actually stronger than Ladybug and Chat Noir, but that power is exhausting, so I have to just be an auxiliary member.”

Nino cleared his throat, and the group parted like the red sea, revealing Lila who looked smug and not the least bit stricken. Despite what they knew she saw yesterday.

“You guys aren’t actually believing this garbage, are you?” Nino asked with malice.

It’s exactly what Alya was thinking, but she was overcome with so much rage, she wasn’t able to articulate any sentences.

“Well…” began Mylene. “No one knows who Rena Rouge is…”

“It’s not her.” Said Alya, shaking.

“How do you know?” Asked Kim. “Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t know each other’s identities, so maybe whoever gave them their Miraculous also gave Lila one.”

Alya tightened her fist. “I talked to Ladybug about this. Only the Ladybug and Black Cat where given by…the Guardian. Ladybug has dealt all the others. And I’m 100% certain she didn’t give it to you.”

“What’s your proof?” Asked Kim, challenging her.

“What’s hers!?” Alya shrieked. “She admitted to lying about Marinette taking those photos! Why are any of you giving her the time of day?!”

Lila had that faux look of concern on her face. “Why Alya, you mean you didn’t know?”

“…know what?” Alya asked, with her heart in her shoes.

“Marinette’s not really Ladybug. And Adrien isn’t Chat Noir. The stream is a performance piece. I thought, surely you would know! I know the director and he told me all about—“

The next second, Lila was on the ground, again, her nose bleeding like a fountain.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Alya seethed. “You bitch.”

People were backing away from the two quickly, eyes to the sky.

“Alya!” Lila cried out. “You need to calm down! It’s not that big of a deal!”

“You’re…a piece…of shit.” Alya managed out between her grit teeth and heavy sobs. “It is a big deal! I don’t know if you live in some sort of fantasy or delusion, but you will not drag everyone else into it! Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, are in hell, being tortured on live stream and you have—you have the gaul to make it about you! You disgust me! I can’t believe I ever listened to you!”

“Alya!!” Nino shouted, startling her.

But it wasn’t enough warning. A long forgotten chill ran down her spine and purple light covered her vision.

“So, we meet again, Miss Cesaire.” Hawkmoth’s voice was thick with concern, and false comfort.

“No!” Alya shouted, gripping her head. “Leave me alone! I won’t—I won’t listen to you! I—I can’t! They need me!”

“They certainly do. And I’m going to help you save them.”

“I will never work with you! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”

The butterfly flew out of the fox pendant around her neck, and flapped around in the air innocently. It waited a moment, and then departed from wince it came.

Alya fell to her knees, sobbing. Nino was at her side instantly, holding her and trying to stay calm himself, though he was boiling inside.

No one spoke for a moment, but all were eager to hear who would speak up.

Lila recovered first. “Look Alya. I’m really sorry. I know it’s hard to find out that your friendship with someone...isn’t as mutual as you thought. Maybe Marinette just didn’t tell you. I know her and I don’t see eye to eye after I caught her stalking Adrien, but I swear this all isn’t as horrible as it seems.”

“That’s enough,” a sharp voice spoke.

A young woman, a fellow student, stepped into the group. Usually one to keep her head down, but never one to back away from the fight. And Lila sure looked like the enemy here.

Kagami Tsurugi crossed her arms and stared Lila down with a scowl. “Can’t you see you’re hurting them?”

Lila twitched her eyebrow at the appearance of this new foe. “I don’t know what you mean! Alya’s thinking the worst, but it really is a performance piece. A prank, really.”

“I meant, you’re not just hurting those two, but Adrien and Marinette.”

Lila scoffed. “I just thought everyone deserved the truth!”

“They do!” Kagami barked. “And you’re not giving it to them!”

“I swear I am!”

“Then swear to Mr. Agreste!” Kagami spat. “He called my mother this morning to cancel a meeting, and he was extremely upset. Of course he has no idea where Adrien is, and he’s beside himself!”

“Oh, Mr. Agreste didn’t know about it? I’ll make sure to let him know.”

Kagami barked out a laugh. “You’re really trying to say that Mr. Agreste didn’t know about an activity that Adrien was participating in? One on such a national scale? Yeah right.”

“M-maybe the director forgot to mention it?”

Kagami rolled her eyes. “You’re pathetic. Not only do you refuse to admit to your failures, you refuse to understand that the world doesn’t revolve around you. I thought you were in love with Adrien.”

“I-I-I am! We’re dating! Look!” She took out her phone, where the picture of her kissing Adrien on the cheek shone as her wallpaper.

“You already used that against me.” Kagami said blankly, “that photo is a couple years old now. That’s the only photo of you two together?”

“I-I...I was just—“

“Lying. Wasting everyone’s time. Giving false hope. Taking attention away from where it’s supposed to belong. You scum.”

Lila clenched her fists in anger, and then stalked off in rage.

Kagami sighed, her shoulders releasing from her tight hold.

“That was...really cool.” Nino stated, still kneeling on the ground. Alya wasn’t crying anymore thankfully.

“Thank you, for that.” She stated, wiping her eyes. “I don’t usually have a hard time arguing with people, but this is...” Alya shook her head. “Lila is so good at improvising lies. It makes it impossible to convince people otherwise...Marinette was never able to.”

Kagami held her hands out. “Come on. We’re going to lunch. I’m Kagami Tsurugi.”

“Yeah,” said Alya, automatically taking her hand. “Alya Cesaire.”

“Nino Lahiffe.”

—

Alya and Nino decided to return to the Agreste mansion for lunch, mostly just to check in with Tom and Sabine.

Nathalie looked at the three that entered, and nodded to Kagami. “I hope you all brought your appetites.” She said dryly, leading them to the dining room.

“Huh?”

Inside, there were platters and platters of pastries and breads of all sorts of varieties.

Tom was bringing out another tray from the kitchen. “Oh! You’re back! Please kids, feel free to help yourselves!”

“Did you make all of this, Mr. Dupain?” Asked Nino.

“Ah, Yeah...But, I think I may have gone a bit overboard. I can’t sit still! I know I can’t do anything to help, but I’m just—I can’t just sit around worrying. We’ll be giving whatever we don’t eat to the soup kitchen, but feel free to take whatever you want back with you.” Then he noticed Kagami. “Ah, sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Tom, Marinette’s father.”

“Kagami. Adrien’s friend.”

“Well, I’ll go get Sabine and we’ll all have a proper meal. We’ve got stuff for sandwiches! I’ve got sliced ham and roast beef and mustard and so many cheeses...” he continued to talk as he left the room.

Kagami smiled softly as he left. “Marinette is a lot like her parents then.”

“Yeah, they’re crazy close.” Nino supplied, “I’m surprised they’re taking this so well.”

“You think this is taking it well?” Asked Alya, gesturing to the spread.

Nino shrugged.

They both sat at the table, and glanced through the food. As much as they hated to admit it, they were both hungry from their morning activities.

Despite what they had seen before that.

“It’s okay, Kagami, come and sit down.” Nino beckoned.

The girl nodded at took a seat as well.

Tom returned with yet another platter, of sandwich fixings, before he left again without a word, his mind seemingly in another place.

“So…” began Alya. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but why did you want to have lunch with us?”

“To talk.” Kagami answered simply, cutting into a ciabatta roll with a knife.

“About something specific, or are you just lonely?”

She paused, then answered, “A little of both, I think.” She looked to Alya, who was very much still suffering from the after effects of her near akumatization. “I’ve seen you two the most, on their instagrams. You’re the ones they’re the most close too. I knew if I needed to talk to someone, surely I could trust you.”

Alya offered a sad little smile. “I see. We…we’ll listen if you need us to, but…” She sighed. “It’s hard.”

“I know.” Kagami put her sandwich down, having taken two bites. She wasn’t that hungry anyways. “I thought—I thought I loved Adrien.”

Nino choked on his sandwich. “Oh dude, sorry!” He coughed. “I’m super bad in the love department.”

Kagami shook her head. “I don’t need advice. I just…I’ve been thinking about things. All my life, I’ve had to strive for perfection. Grades, arts, fencing…everything. So, naturally, when it came to having a crush, it fell on Adrien. He was…perfect. Gorgeous, kind, smart, talented…everything I ever could have wanted. To find out that…that this whole time, he’s been Chat Noir…it felt like I was being lied to.”

Nino folded his hands in front of him. “Yeah…it felt like that for me for a little bit. Just long enough for it to sink in that he had hid his identity from me for so long, before it was replaced with worry for his well being.”

Kagami looked at her plate. “You’re a better friend than I. I…I was only angry. I felt deceived. Chat Noir…he’s not bad. He’s a hero, of course, but…he’s reckless, goofy, and just…doesn’t take things seriously. Those I qualities I resent in people.” She rubbed under her eye. “If his secret was more…secret, I guess, more private, that is, I might not have been so angry. Like if he was a closeted alcoholic, or he was a messy person, I might not have been so mad. But because he’s shown to be two different people, so publicly…I felt like I didn’t know who my friend was. Who was the real Adrien? The model, or the superhero?” She shook her head. “Then I realized that I didn’t actually love him at all. I idolized him. I fantasized being together, because I thought we would be good together. But that’s what I get for putting him on a pedestal.

“I realize that saying all of this is…extremely selfish and shallow. Adrien doesn’t deserve that. He needs people that love and support both sides of him, in and out of the mask. Now, more than ever. And…and I know I’m not the only person who’s felt this way. All over the internet, girls are talking about how disappointed they are to find out who he is…if I knew how to hack, I’d erase all those comments before Adrien got the chance to see them. And…and Marinette. She deserves so much of my respect. She…she had, or still has, a crush on Adrien, and she still volunteered to accompany him on a date with me, because he was nervous. She put her own heart on the line for the comfort of her friend. She really is Ladybug.”

“You don’t have to beat yourself up so much.” Said Alya, finally breaking her silence. “You deserve someone that you can love wholly and completely, without their flaws feeling like they’re ‘tainting perfection’.”

“That…would be nice…but it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry if what I said offended you. It know it must be hard to hear someone talk about your friend like that…”

“Do you hate him?” Asked Nino. “Now, with everything you know?”

Kagami shook her head easily. “No. But now, more than ever, I realize that I’ve never really been a good friend. To either of them. So I want to help. In any way I can.”

Alya sighed in relief. “Well…directly, there’s not much we can do. We can watch the streams, and look and listen for clues and report them to investigators. But we don’t have the resources to do more than that.”

“I see…”

“But,” said Alya, with a little more hope in her voice. “There is something we can do. There’s someone out there spreading lies and trying to make this whole thing seem not as bad as it actually is.”

“You mean that Lila girl?”

“Yep. Most of our class knows better, since we were basically all together when the stream went live. But…some are still gullible. We have to stop her now. I took down her interview where she claimed to be Ladybug’s best friend, but a lot of people saw that. No doubt, reporters will try to find her to ask questions. That would…that would be devastating.”

Kagami stood, taking her sandwich and wrapping it up in a napkin. “I will take care of it. It seems like Lila is a sore topic for you.”

“A sore topic is putting it nicely. She incites me to violence.”

“And that doesn’t help anybody.”

“Exactly. Thanks…Sorry we couldn’t really make you feel better about Adrien.” Alya sighed.

But Kagami had a soft smile on her face. “I’ll get over it myself. For now, I just want to do what’s right.” She nodded her head. “Give my thanks to Mr. Dupain for the sandwich. The bread is fantastic.”

It was at that moment that Tom came back out, this time with a stack of boxes. “Oh are you leaving? Here, take this and fill it with whatever looks good. Take it home for your family.”

Kagami couldn’t help but giggle a little. The man was so warm and kind.

It was reassuring to know that when Adrien and Marinette got out, they’d have a man like him to take care of them.

Not that she thought badly of Gabriel, of course. But she couldn’t imagine him having good bedside manners.

She would also need to work on her stoic disposition. Anything to get Adrien to smile again.

—

After lunch, Alya and Nino returned to school. Strengthened by her conversation with Kagami, Alya felt a little better. She would go and talk to the other classmates to see what they were believing in this mess.

Nino walked with her, holding her hand. Though he didn’t say much until they reached the locker room. “Hey Al?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“What…what did Hawkmoth say to you earlier? Do you remember?”

She closed her locker, biting her lip in thought. “I do. It’s just…it’s weird.”

“What?”

“He called me by my name. I was sure that he addressed people as their akumatized names.”

“Oh? What else did he say?”

“I told him to go away, and that they needed me. He said ‘indeed they do, and I want to help you find them.’”

Nino frowned in thought. “That…that is weird. And you’d think he’d have plenty of people to akumatize. Watching the stream had been more upsetting than listening to Lila.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Alya took out her phone and took down some notes. “I wonder…what Hawkmoth is thinking.”

“He’s probably thinking of the best way to get those miraculous while causing the least amount of damage, since there is no Ladybug to fix things.”

She typed it out. “That’s a good theory. For now, we’ll keep our eyes peeled for akumas. He ought to be looking for another victim soon.” She turned to leave the room, but managed to bump into someone, knocking their books out of their hands.

“I’m so sorry!” Alya gasped.

“It’s fine Alya.” Said the girl. Though Alya didn’t recognize her at first. Was it another new student?

Blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, track pants, and a hoodie.

“Do I know you?” Alya asked.

The other student looked up with a weak glare. “Oh please, I know I look horrible. But it’s not that bad.”

Alya’s eyes blew wide. “Chloe?”

“Who else?”

“I just…I’ve never seen you without makeup before. It was…jarring.”

“Yeah well…I didn’t feel like putting on makeup, or doing my hair, or wearing a cute outfit…because…because Adrien and Marinette probably haven’t gotten to even take a shower, or—or brush their hair…” She let out a sob.

“Oh Chloe…” Alya found herself saying with great sympathy.

“No. Don’t talk to me like that. Please just…keep being sassy. Let me have some normalcy for a little while.”

“Okay.” Agreed Alya. She cleared her throat. “Uh, geez Chloe, can you fit any more rats up in that bun?”

Chloe’s response was watery. “Can you fit any more in yours?”

Alya gave her a little smile. “We’ll work on it.”

—

In the classroom, Alya was swarmed by classmates, all running to hug her. Rose was bawling her eyes out. “Alya! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have listened to Lila! I was—I was just so scared for Marinette and Adrien and to hear that they weren’t actually in trouble was so nice and-and—!”

Alya hugged her tightly. “It’s okay Rose. I understand. I almost wanted to believe her too. But…That’s not fair to Adrien and Marinette.”

“I feel stupid,” said Kim. “For even giving her any attention. It’s not gonna happen again.”

“What did that bitch say this time?” asked Chloe.

“She was trying to convince people that Adrien and Marinette weren’t actually being tortured. That they weren’t actually Ladybug and Chat Noir, and that they were only doing a performance piece. When Alya called her out, Lila kept lying and Alya almost got akumatized.”

Chloe seethed. “No one does that to my Adrikins! Of course he’s Chat Noir! How could anyone doubt that he’s so selfless and caring and wonderful and—he’s a hero! And Dupain-Cheng—!” Her voice choked on a sob. “My daddy will be hearing about this! I’ll get her banished from the city! No! The country!”

Alya had the smallest hint of a smile at that. “Now that, is something I’d like to see.”

“Let’s all make a pact.” Said Nathaniel.

“Yeah, a blood oath.” Said Alix, with gusto.

“No…” Nathaniel clarified. “I mean, let’s just all swear from here on out to take everything Lila says with a grain of salt, and to do whatever we can to support Adrien and Marinette, now and when they get out…especially Marinette.”

Congratulations Lila, you made good on your threat. You’ve turned everyone against me, just like you said you would. But I’m ending things on my own terms. If you ever need me again, think twice.

Everyone seemed to remember her final words to them collectively. She only delivered them two days ago, but it already felt so long ago.

“Didn’t Marinette say something about a threat?” Asked Alix, aloud.

“…maybe…there’s more to Lila than we thought.”

Juleka broke the silence, standing up and looking at her phone. “Uh, Alya…? Have you updated your blog?”

“No, I haven’t even looked at it since this all happened. Why?”

“Uh…you should…”

Quickly, Alya took out her phone and opened her blog tab.

Right there on the front page, where everyone would see it, was a brand new post that she hadn’t written at all. It was short, but the contents were chilling.

There was a link. And the caption stated, “Hawkmoth. We need to talk. —Salo.”

—

I made Kagami kind of shallow. But I’m basing it off her behavior in Onee-chan.

And I’m going camping in a few days, so I’m taking a week off of this story. Who knows when the next update will be? Not me!

#longest night #miraculous ladybug #ml #ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #kagami tsurugi #fanfiction #adrinette #djwifi #chloe bourgeois

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hellobengski · 4 years

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In Another World: Japan 2019

Maybe to love is to learn – and learning Japan for quite some time is just beautiful with all its chaotic yet fulfilling desire at heart.

December is the season for family and friends and having to spend it another country again is different – a very memorable one. It is such a good grace of embracing new culture from a 5 hour trip away from home – living a temporary life, what it’s like to live in a world where everything seemed to be provided. The place itself is an art, where you can experience the calmness of the streets although I had to enjoy the freezing weather in which I was forced to wear almost four layers of clothing, including multiple heat packs to keep us going along the way. Nevertheless, Japan has its own way of welcoming you to the best possible ways it could offer, making exceptional memories of more than a dream.

Japan is in the top of my bucket list yet the very least to make it happen when I was younger. Given that it’s expensive, it requires you to apply for visa in which chosen people are only given the opportunity to process it. Maybe timing wasn’t for us then hence watching anime films was an alternative way to feel it. Japanese characters itself with perfectly triangular shaped faces used to be my hidden desire, like there’s something mystical about their personalities. And maybe timing could be right too. It could be right when the High Power allows you – specifically when you’re ready.

I have no idea what to hate in a place where it appears to be perfect. Utopia, as what they say. I went with a group of twenty people with various ages and personalities so there were two things that needed to be considered in this trip; to conform and to be patient. I have watched some documentaries, travel vlogs, and even movies like Hachiko to prepare myself with an expectant heart.

From there, I know Japan would lead us to wander and be lost.

Upon arriving in Japan, our group was picked up by huge sized black colored van including drivers who were definitely dressed well with their coat and tuxedo. We were late. And there is something wrong with that. It’s a bad Impression for Japanese people to be late since time is valuable – unless you have reasonable excuses. The tension was starting to fire up so I decided to apologise. The family did too. During the one-hour travel from Narita Airport to the first place where we stayed, I was mesmerized. The overwhelming emotions from visual presentations turned into reality. Maybe this is love, like seeing a person for the first time letting your head turn into 360.

Fallen leaves, chirping crows, and whistling of the winds. So this is winter – I have never felt this in my life. It surprised me as I was enjoying the giant automatic buildings. We toured several of Tokyo’s places, all of which had their own unique culture.

I experienced the towering skyscrapers and offices of Shinjuku and the shopping and pop culture of Harajuku. I learned how diverse Tokyo was: three blocks from the Tokyo Skytree, an observation tower that symbolizes Japan’s cutting-edge technology; Asakusa, an ancient Buddhist shrine where people prayed under enormous red lanterns and burnt incense for their ancestors. I noticed that this dramatic juxtaposition between the old and the new is what most characterized Japan: pop culture and technology contrasted yet blended with traditional customs and culture. While polar opposites of each other, these two aspects of Japan coexisted in perfect harmony. I believe that harmony sends an important message: you do not need to disregard the old in order to embrace the new. It is possible to honor and accept both.

And the bikes were electronic. I grew up learning how to ride a bike but never got the chance to do it in Japan. Maybe if I was just a solo traveler, I could use it to explore the clean roads.

Every train is a safe space.

With Haruki Murakami’s novel Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, fragments of imagination have conveyed my emotions to become a fan of train stations. I have seen some parts of myself through Tsukuru, how darkness made him feel as an empty person, lacking in color and identity. He was real to me. From millions of people that passed through me, he could’ve been there. That’s when I started to love the train stations even more.

They are always on time– and of course, a delay of even just one minute will result in profuse apologies from the conductor. Train stations are always staffed with employees who are ready to answer your questions and do so very well. Though we weren’t able to ride city buses, I believe they’re also great though I wasn’t sure if we can pay their fares with the same card we used to ride the train.

I have seen people coming in and out of the trains, like every person has its own story of why they needed to ride the train. On Tuesday, I remember some old man trying to stop his son from crying. On Friday night, I smelled ginger flavored beer from Japanese employees who just got off from work from Shibuya station. I liked the smell, it didn’t make me feel that I was in danger. Probably weekends are for Filipinos, like Saturday, who came all the way from Grandberry mall outlet to purchase almost half price of some original brands that are dying for.

It is just solely convenient. There were convenience stores that are open 24 hours a day and you can simply find one just about anywhere. We found some food, basic toiletry items and magazines. Another thing that’s a go-to in Japan is the vending machines. Vending machines are even more common than convenience stores, and you can find one by just walking a block or two. Most of them just sell drinks like water, coffee, tea, juice and soda. They’re usually quite cheap (100 yen at the cheapest), and you can get them hot in the winter or cold in the summer.

I personally bought drinks from vending machines almost all the time and they were worth it. And the food, oh the food. Japanese don’t have the highest life expectancy in the world for no reason. Never in my life have I tasted the best apple pie in the world until Japan let me. From its first bite down to last, it was beyond my ultimatum. No words could express it.

Even so with Ramen after a whole exhausting day, the warm soup with its perfect texture of noodles satisfied us. I believe that every food regardless if it’s in the streets or in a luxurious restaurant was served with love. They would want to make you feel like you deserve to be well treated with a quality of food that they could offer you.

Some things in life are too complicated to explain in any language but in Japan, it has brought me to both --- tranquility and complexity. The demeanor of place demanded me to breathe. It gave me the power of wanting to be alone, looking back to nostalgic feelings that I felt and decisions I have made in my life.

Until another Utopian world took me to the fun and excitement part --- Tokyo’s Disneysea, the most brilliant story world’s ever created: a living ode to Walt Disney’s love for storytelling, world-building, and lovable characters. You see, Disney isn’t just made of Story Worlds – it’s also a story world in itself, and its star is Mickey remains the most iconic character ever drawn. Mickey belongs exclusively to the world of Disney; his presence invokes the idea that all of these smaller story worlds are part of something bigger, something uniquely magical. Mickey Mouse is the linchpin to the whole operation. He’s the reminder that Disneyland is more than the sum of its parts – it’s an experience unto itself.

Ultimately, the story of Disney sea is the story of my visit. My presence with my family defines the day; we get to pick rides and shows. Disney Park will always be an “open world,” where you explore, collect things, and meet characters in whatever sequence you choose.

Until sooner I realized we have one more day left to pack things and luggage. Items that were bought in Japan were already sort out, from gadgets to food, fridge magnets and even branded shoes. My mom had to buy another big trolley to maximize all the stuff so we could all bring home the goodies.

Just before the plane took off from Narita airport, I met an amazing couple from Japan. The lady’s Filipina, Marissa Suzuki, who’s married to a Japanese and been living in Japan for 30 years. The old man, Mr. Nori Suzuki, was 20 years older than her, had 2 children who were left at home. I was sitting from the window seat trying to calm myself from my episodic anxiety. The first thing she asked me was if there’s any book to read while waiting. I told her that there were just couple of magazines but probably wouldn’t satisfy her husband. It was a budget airline. She was hardly putting her bags on the bin until her husband helped her. And then she sat beside me. They smiled at me like they wanted to know me.

The two hour conversation started.

I felt the joy from their eyes, especially from the Japanese old man as they kept asking my whereabouts. They insisted on buying coffee and oatmeal cookies for me. I wanted to be polite so I smirked. Of course I was very hungry and didn’t eat some breakfast. They even offered wasabi nuts and matcha flavored round shaped sticky bread. I had to appreciate it although I didn’t really like the taste too much.

For once in my life, I tried staring to someone while sharing personal stories. I felt bittersweet from her expressions, how she left our country when her older sister brought her to Japan. It was like she didn’t have choice. She was only 17 back then when she faced the reality. I know she wanted to make me feel what she has been through. I could see through her eyes how she learned to love her husband from the first few years of their relationship. The difference of the culture and language didn’t really matter to her, instead, she was challenged by it. Mr. Suzuki was quite a storyteller, I was pretty convinced that he loves the Philippines with its warm people and weather. I love his words of wisdom; to treat people equally because we all deserve it; to value time because we all work for it; to give as much as you can because there’s no better feeling than to serve.

Funny how they wanted me to date a Japanese guy, or at least I should’ve met someone in a span of week. I could always go back, but will be definitely choosing a different weather. I admit I didn’t really have good sleep from the entire trip but maybe travels are for people who seek for adventure and stories.

From what I have learned in this trip, through its any lifestyle, people have survived. And we will always be. And those who survive have a duty. Our duty is to do our best to keep on living. Even if our lives are not perfect.

With all my sincerity and respect, in another life, will always go back to you, Japan.

#japan #japantravel #japantravel2019 #holidaytrip #train #tokyo #tokyo disneysea #tokyojapan

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

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Chapter 9 - Come Sunday

Harry hadn’t told me much about the trip. In fact, pretty much every question I asked him about it was given a wave and ‘don’t worry about it.’ In a way that was nice--that I didn’t have to worry about things or stress about it, but it also left me with a feeling that I was inadvertently taking advantage of him.

Something about the fact that he never once asked me for any money, never let me know how much I should bring for food, activities, or whatever else he planned on doing during our time there, left me feeling rather helpless and just shitty.

I figured that on the plane there--when there were plenty of other people around--wouldn’t be a good time to bring it up. Harry’s manager, Jeff, and Ryan--who’d be our engineer--were the only two people I’d met somehow in passing before. Whether it was at the office or in the studio, I’d been introduced to them and even worked with Ryan once or twice.

But I didn’t know them well--and when the van pulled up to the marvelous and extraordinary white, mid-century modern house on a hill, I knew I’d be getting to know everyone a whole lot better over the next few weeks.

The first thing I realized when we all showed up to the airport and climbed the stairs to the tiny plane was that I was the only woman. It’s not that I had expected there to be five or ten--I just didn’t expect to be the only one with a uterus. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the only one with hair past my shoulders--I had Harry to thank for that.

But here we were--the sun was shining and there were all sorts of exotic noises that I couldn’t quite place as we climbed out of the van and onto to the pavement of the driveway. Harry had shown me a few photos the night I was packing at my apartment--there were six bedrooms in this house, but he’d rented another down the hill to make sure we had enough room.

He hadn’t really explained much other than the fact that the studio we’d be recording in was down the road a ways towards the center of town. So, with my suitcase in the hands of the driver and my sunglasses back on my face to shield my eyes from the light, I stared up at the big house.

“Nice, huh?” He asked, his hands on his hips as the rest of the gang climbed out behind us.

“It’s beautiful,” I said--my eyes scanning over the balconies that seemed to protrude from the second floor bedrooms.

And that’s when my stomach sank. Where was I supposed to sleep? Sure--Harry and I had physically cemented whatever type of more than friends thing we had going on, but we certainly hadn’t had any sort of legitimate conversation about it. He hadn’t asked, I hadn’t told. I wondered if it would just go on like this for--for one reason or another--we stopped hanging out.

I followed behind Harry and Jeff as we made our way to the door--the big house blocked the view of the ocean, which had still been visible from the driveway.

“So Harry, me, other Jeff, Maggie, Alex, and Tyler are here,” Jeff said, looking down at his phone to confirm. Six people, six bedrooms. “Ryan and Teddy--you’re both down the hill at the other house with Matt when he gets in.”

Harry punched in a code to the keypad on the front door, opening the door to reveal a marble and wood foyer. I stared up at the high ceiling--magnificent and colorful art lined the walls. Harry, with classic Ray-Bans over his eyes and a Hawaiian shirt on, let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

Something in my stomach knotted itself into a ball.

I felt--out of place. I felt nervous and unsure of my presence as he took a few steps further in, a smile on his face as he turned to look at the group. “I think it’ll do.”

My room was at the opposite end of the hallway as Harry’s. It boasted a king-sized bed and tall windows that looked over the backyard--a hint of the ocean was visible from the corner. It was big--big enough that I could have probably fit a home gym and a jacuzzi inside, but both of those things were located downstairs.

I had my own bathroom, which I was thankful for. The last thing I needed through all of this was dealing with the way men exist in bathrooms. They leave things out on the counter and don’t seem to understand where the soap actually goes. I would have rather showered outside than have dealt with that. (The outdoor shower was downstairs, too.)

We took the afternoon to get settled in--the upstairs was quiet as people unpacked, figured out how on earth to flush the ridiculously fancy toilets (which were even less American than the ones in London), and I finally found myself sat on the couch in the living room when Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Y’okay?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he made his way over to join me. I clicked my phone shut--Alex sat on the couch opposite me, his feet up on the glass coffee table that hosted a book about sightseeing in Jamaica.

“Yeah, I’m great,” I nodded, offering a smile as he came to sit. It wasn’t exactly a lie. I mean, the truth was that I was fine. I was just overthinking and getting in my head and I suddenly felt like maybe I wasn’t even good enough to write on this album.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but I cut him off before he could challenge me. “I’m hungry--what’s the deal with food?”

The kitchen, as I’d discovered upon opening every single cabinet and drawer, was empty. Apparently food wasn’t included in what was sure to be the gigantic bill for this place.

“Oh right,” Harry said, plucking at his lower lip as his eyes scanned the kitchen. An empty fruit bowl stood on the counter--not even a banana was present. “Ferdinand said we’d have to get food.”

“Ferdinand?” Alex asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. He looked up from his phone and smiled.

Harry nodded, a smile crossing his face. “He’s the guy in charge of the rental thing,” he motioned around the room to try to explain. “He said there’s a grocery store a few miles down the road.”

Jeffrey appeared in the doorway, he came to sit beside Alex--putting his feet up on the coffee table as well. I guess when you paid as much money as Harry was paying, you could do things like that.

“Should we go?” I asked, looking between Harry and Jeff.

“No, we can have someone do that,” Harry said automatically, looking down at his cellphone in his hands.

“Harry,” I said, tucking my chin down in disappointment. “We can do our own grocery shopping. I can go--I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to,” Jeffrey said, shaking his head without even looking up.

“I want to,” I said quickly. “I’ll go and get all of the basics. Enough stuff so we can at least have breakfast.”

“There’s a chef that’s through the hotel--he’ll come and prepare meals if we want him to.”

I let out a laugh and leaned my head back against the couch. “Okay--fine, but we can also make food, too.” Maybe that was the difference between me and Harry. Maybe he was used to having people cook his eggs and maybe I was used to scrambling them myself.

“I didn’t bring you here to be my chef,” Harry smirked, his voice low enough as if we were the only two in the room.

“I’m aware,” I nodded. “But I think we should go to the grocery store and see the town.”

Harry seemed to think on this for a second--he rubbed at his eyes and then clapped his hands together. “Alright--let’s go, then.”

“Why d’we need that many?” He asked, his hands on the cart that he pushed in front of him. He watched as I set the three cartons of eggs inside, when I stood up, he was staring right at me.

While the others decided they’d rather take a nap or test out the pool, Harry seemed to begrudgingly stand with his hands on the cart.

“If we each eat two eggs that’s a dozen right there,” I shrugged. “At least. So this will last three days if we have eggs for breakfast every day.”

He didn’t respond--he pushed the cart forward and looked down at the list I’d scrawled down quickly before we left. We’d taken the car that apparently came with the house--Harry insisted on driving and we kept the windows down the whole way.

“What about these? Should we get some of these?”

“Mangoes?” I laughed, picking one up to examine it. “Do you like mangoes?”

“I think so,” he nodded, tossing the two he held into the cart.

“Okay--let’s try to stick to the list,” I prompted, walking a few steps forward to the bananas.

The store was small--it was probably half the size of the tiny grocer down the street from my flat, but it seemed to have a good enough variety. The chef, Harry said, would bring food as well. An island-sounding song played over the speakers, only two checkout lanes, one man behind the deli counter.

Harry, as we walked in, had shared that this was his first time grocery shopping for himself in about three years. I found that completely ridiculous, but he’d insisted that he’d tried once or twice in 2013 and he just couldn’t keep a low enough profile. I told him it was probably the hair and the sunglasses and beanie on his head in the middle of the day in a Sainsbury’s downtown.

“Let’s watch a movie tonight,” he said suddenly, examining a bunch of bananas as I headed for a loaf of bread. The store was decent, but the organization seemed all out of sorts.

“Let’s finish this first,” I laughed, scanning the shelves for a plain loaf of white or wheat.

“I mean it,” he said, coming over with the cart, bananas in tow. “We can find something on netflix. Just you and me though, I’m tired.”

I bit my tongue slightly, feeling the urge to address the fact that us doing anything probably wasn’t a good idea with four other people sleeping nearby and at least four or five others constantly coming in and out of the house.

He wasn’t even looking at me, though. He, too, was scanning for the right loaf of bread. His eyebrows flew up when he found it, he grabbed it and offered me a toothy smile before placing it in the trolley.

“About that, by the way,” I said to his back--he was heading for the dairy section--which, for whatever reason, wasn’t anywhere near the eggs. “I feel like we shouldn’t tell anyone about what happened the other night.”

“You mean the sex?” He said the words loud enough that my eyes went wide. He’d been all excited about the fact that he was able to grocery shop like a ‘normal person,’ but apparently he’d lost all of his ‘normal person’ etiquette.

“Yes, that,” I rolled my eyes, causing him to let out a laugh. He slowed down, letting me catch up so we were side by side. He slung an arm around my shoulders.

“If I recall correctly, you were pretty excited the other night about it.”

“I’m not saying I wasn’t,” I reasoned, “just saying that I don’t think Jeffrey and all of your friends need to know.”

He was quiet, almost as if his mind was somewhere else. He looked around the store, trying to locate something.

“I’m serious!” I said, whacking him in the stomach. He pulled his arm from my shoulders and rubbed at the spot where I’d made contact. “They’re my co-workers and you’re like--my boss--the last thing they need to know is that I’ve slept with the boss.”

A smirk appeared on his face, his eyebrows raised as I stopped walking. “That’s pretty hot,” he said, his voice quieter than it had been.

While I couldn’t necessarily disagree, now was not the time nor the place for Harry to be saying things that made me want to relive the other night on repeat as if I were Bill Murray living a Groundhog Day scenario.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you haven’t gotten laid in years,” I rolled my eyes, walking away from him to head for the cereal section.

“Four nights ago, actually,” he corrected me, his voice louder so I could still hear him.

I turned around, a box of cheerios in my hands, and shot him a dirty look.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that our first night in Jamaica was filled with alcohol. I don’t know where it all came from or how it got here, but when Harry and I returned from the grocery store, Matt had arrived, Ryan and Teddy were in the living room, and there were about 14 bottles of Jamaican Rum on the kitchen counter.

Harry’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing his face as he carried two bags in from the car. “How did we get all of this?”

“Your friend Ferdinand stopped by,” Jeffrey informed, he stood near the dining table, clad in only a bathing suit and a t-shirt. “Said it came with the rental package.”

I was still a few steps behind Harry, the third bag and the car keys in my hand. Despite hearing the conversation, I didn’t actually see what they were talking about until I looked up.

“Holy shit,” I said, placing the receipt on the counter. I didn’t know if Harry wanted it or not--I tried to force my credit card past him and to the cashier when we checked out, but he shot me a look that seemed intimidating as all hell. I figured I could maybe buy dinner if we went out one night or furnish a night of drinking.

Apparently, that wouldn’t be necessary.

And it wasn’t--after the chef, who’s name was Victor, came and made us a steak dinner, bottles were opened, people were in and out of the pool, and Harry was about three drinks deep in the first hour.

I hadn’t really seen him drunk before. He’d seen me shitfaced and puking at Chelsea’s--which was embarrassing enough for me to never want to drink too much in front of him again. Harry, however, had a different idea for the night.

With his third drink in hand, he was sat in front of the fire pit--Jeffrey to his right and Tyler to his left. I edged my way by him, heading for the bathroom inside, when his hand grabbed at my waist.

“Maggie, come sit,” he tried to pull me into him, his hands on the bare skin beneath my shirt as I wiggled away from him. I shot him a look, one that he met with sad eyes, but a smirk on his lips.

“I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be back,” I promised, quickly putting distance between us. The help of three cocktails apparently made him forget my entire point of our grocery store conversation: sex and work don’t mix.

I made my escape, into the living room and around the corner from the open sliding doors to find the solace of the bathroom. Harry’s producer, who Jeffrey had dubbed as Other Jeff, had arrived before dinner and that left three people that we were still waiting on.

Ryan had hooked his iPhone up to the speakers in the backyard--which held a gorgeous swimming pool that met the edge of the yard before spilling over onto a rocky decline towards the jungle. I spotted three bottles of rum open outside as I made my way in, and I realized that I was definitely the most sober out of everyone.

We weren’t set to head to the studio until tomorrow afternoon, really just to see the space and get acclimated. Then, apparently, on Thursday, things would really get underway and we’d hit the ground running.

I had no idea what Jeffrey meant when he said that.

I walked back outside to the noise--the heat from the setting sun still on the pavement. I made my way back over to the fire pit, where my seat was still empty. When I sat back down, Tyler leaned over and smiled at me.

“Nice to finally get to spend some time with you--I know we met back in 2014,” he raised his glass as if to cheers in my honor. I reached for my glass, which I’d set on a side table next to my chair and brought it to clink against his. I didn’t remember meeting him, but with my foggy memory and his assured tone, I took his word for it. “Glad we’ve got some feminine influence in the house.”

I let out a short laugh. “In all honesty I was kind of freaked out to be the only girl here,” I admitted, taking a sip from my drink as Jeff Bhasker, formerly Other Jeff, let out a hardy laugh at something Alex said to him and Harry.

He waved me off as if to dismiss my worry. “I was freaked out about the fact that I don’t know any of them. I’d only met Jeff and Alex through FaceTime before today.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “I thought everyone knew each other except for me,” I told him.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I also thought I was going to be the only person who didn’t know everyone, so it’s nice to know you’re in the same boat.”

I brought my glass to my mouth again and swallowed. The drink was fruity, some sort of juice and rum mix that Harry had promised I’d like. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the best thing I’d ever had, either. I knew he seemed over confident when he dumped in another whole shot of rum as I watched on in horror.

“So how long have you known Harry?” He asked, leaning back in his cushioned patio chair as the song over the speakers changed to a slower tempo.

“For a while, really,” I said, thinking back to the day I met him in 2010. He was tall and lanky and awkward--I was much more interested in Liam back then when I started working with them. Soon enough though my logic kicked in and I realized that there was no way one of them would ever be interested in me when they had half of the world clawing just to get near them. “I started writing for the label right before they were signed, then I just kind of got stuck with them, sort of.”

Tyler laughed, seeing the smile on my face. “Not a bad band to get ‘stuck’ with.”

Our tour of the studio the next morning was quick--we stopped for lunch at a small bar in town and a few people were headed to the beach after we finished. Harry, however, wanted to head back to the house and start some writing.

“If you’re not here as a writer, do what you want,” he laughed, waving a hand at Ryan. We were stood in the parking lot, hovering between the three cars we’d taken as everyone decided on their next move.

Harry had given a whole speech at lunch about how he wanted everyone to have fun. We were here to work, first and foremost, but he wanted us all to take the time we needed to enjoy our secluded stint on the island.

“You don’t mind if we go to the beach?” Ryan asked, his hand above his eyes to block the sun.

Harry chewed on a piece of gum and rubbed a hand at his jawline. “No--just don’t die of sun poisoning,” he laughed. “That would really fuck up trying to make an album.”

“We’ll see you at dinner, then,” Jeffrey said, giving Ryan and Matt a two finger salute as they moved towards their separate car.

I climbed into the backseat of the Range Rover we’d been using--Harry seemed keen to drive and Jeffrey seemed to automatically get the front seat. I climbed into the back with Alex and Tyler, sandwiched between them in the hot car.

I did that thing I do where I kept my mouth shut the whole car ride home. I listened to Harry talk with Alex about a lyric idea he got the other night, and I listened to Tyler put Harry in his place when he suggested a god-awful title for some concept he already had. He was getting ahead of himself. Luckily, Jeffrey said it so I didn’t have to.

When we got back to the house, Harry made his way for the couch to pick up a guitar that he’d had shipped in from home. Seven of them showed up in big, road cases, and he’d even offered to get mine shipped alongside his own.

“I was hearing it like this,” he said, humming along some nonsense words over three chords as he waited for Alex to take a seat. I dropped my purse on the counter, thankful for the air conditioning in the house.

“You could do it with a C instead of an e-minor there,” Tyler said, watching as Harry’s fingers moved along the frets.

He shook his head. “I don’t like it like that,” he laughed.

“Oh god,” Alex rolled his eyes, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Is this going to be one of those albums? One where we can’t actually tell you what we think?”

I came to join them, slipping my feet out of my sandals before crossing my legs on the couch. “I’ll tell him what I think,” I nodded, letting my eyes move from Alex’s to Harry’s. “And if anyone else doesn’t feel comfortable doing so, they can tell me and I’ll still him.”

This gained a laugh from each of them, Harry rolled his eyes and finally took a seat, his head leaning against the back of the couch. “It’s still my album, y’know.”

“No one said it isn’t,” I laughed.

He shot me a smirk, one that was probably too friendly for working together, but I tried to ignore it as Alex reached for the guitar. “I do like the hook though,” he nodded, humming the melody again over the same three chords. “It’s nice.”

“Anyone got any words?” I asked, looking around at the three of them. Jeffrey--who’d immediately pulled out his laptop upon arrival back to the house--was seated at the counter, aptly minding his own business and steering clear of what he called ‘creative flow.’

Harry, who seemed somewhat surprised when we all waited for him to say something, blew a breath of air out between his lips. “I just know I want it to be about a city.”

“Pick one,” I said, keeping my eyes on him as he thought on it again. Alex had written with Harry plenty in the past--he’d never really worked with me, but I knew they were likely quite comfortable writing together. Tyler, as I’d learned the other night, really only knew Jeff and Ryan. I took the current group dynamic as my license to push Harry in a way that he might not be used to.

I mean, when I thought about it, writing songs with Harry was suddenly weird and new and some sort of uncharted Island territory. We were no longer just two people who occasionally spent four hours locked in a tiny room in downtown London, now we were people who were Sleeping Together and we were actually Friends and we were Hanging Out.

Maybe the license I suddenly felt I held wasn’t exactly real, but I figured I’d push the boundary anyway.

“Don’t pick L.A.” I told him, shaking my head as he looked up to meet me with an amused expression.

“What if I want to pick L.A.?”

“Everyone writes about L.A.” I waved him off.

He laughed a little, looked back down at the guitar, and played the same d-chord he’d started with. He sang, only a few words, but I liked them.

“Tell me something, tell me anything,” his voice was quiet and I wasn’t quite sure if they were actually words he wanted us to hear. That's the thing about writing. For every twelve good songs you put on an album, you write about 20 terrible ones first.

“Something something, I can’t even sing,” he laughed, the words still dancing along with the melody that he’d hummed in the car.

“Words could use a little TLC, but the sound is there,” Alex joked, pulling out his phone to type in the words Harry had sung. “What are you trying to say?”

Harry sat on that one for a second. He plucked at his lower lip and stared at the red piece of artwork that hung about the electric fireplace. “Confusion. That’s the overall energy, I think.”

He played the chord again, letting it ring through the room this time. “Tell me something, tell me something, you don’t know nothing,” he hummed again through the end of a line, letting the noise fade from his mouth as he looked up to me.

“Words,” he said simply. “Got any?”

I pulled my eyes away from him, unsure if I could really come up with something with his gaze so set on me. “Do you want it to rhyme right there?”

He shrugged his shoulders, still strumming through the progression with his thumb. “Doesn’t have to.”

“Sing it again,” I nodded, waiting for his voice to murmur out the words he’d offered already.

“Tell me something, tell me something, you don’t know nothing,” he sang.

“Just pretend you do,” I said, his eyes still waiting for my contribution. Alex was staring at the floor, tapping his foot to the beat at which Harry played.

“Hm,” Harry smirked, again, the look on his face didn’t feel too appropriate for work. “Not bad.” He took a beat, strummed again, and picked it up. “Just pretend you do, tell me something, tell me something new.”

“Sounds like a verse,” Tyler smiled, a pleased look on his face as Harry stood from the couch and shoved the guitar to Alex.

“We have a verse!” he shouted, his voice filling the room and bouncing off of the walls. “Did you write it down?” He looked to Alex, who still held his phone in his hand.

After two hours of a similar nature, Jeff headed down to the other house to greet Andy and Mitch, the two other people who’d be joining us on this wild, completely unorganized adventure. Alex and Tyler decided to meet up with the others at a restaurant downtown for a beer, leaving me to sit awkwardly on the couch while Harry declined the invitation.

They’d asked me to tag along too--and I considered at first, especially when someone mentioned something about ordering fries. Instead, though, I figured it would do me well to take a shower, call my mom, and maybe even nap. Every second since we’d arrived had been busy--even if that was just because there were at least six other people constantly in the room with me.

The door shut behind them, Harry turned to face me, and I raised my eyebrows at him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

He raised his eyebrows in return, the dimple on his left cheek coming into view. “Is that an invitation?”

I stood from the couch and let out a dismissive laugh. “It certainly was not.”

He pouted for a second, following behind me as I started to climb the stairs. “I’m glad you’re here, even if you’re not going to save water.”

I rolled my eyes despite the fact that my back was to him. “I think you’ll live.”

“I will.” He said confidently. “I’ve made it six days, after all.”

While I appreciated his sense of humor and the way he so easily spoke about the one time we had sex, I turned to face him at the top of the stairs. I could see a car pass by on the secluded road in front of the house--I wondered if anyone on the planet knew where he was.

“Listen,” I said, hanging my head as he stood two steps beneath me. This brought us to eye-level, though he still had a slight advantage over me. “I don’t want this to be weird, now that that happened. I don’t want that to affect the writing.”

He smiled, a crooked one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maggie, can you just--relax for a second about it?”

“I am relaxed,” I defended, crossing my arms. “I drank rum and I’m on island time and all that.”

He quirked an eyebrow at this, clearly not convinced. “I just don’t want you to freak out about it. I like you. We had sex. You’re writing on my album. It’s not as weird as you think it is.”

“Well it sounds very weird when you say it all together like that,” I informed, stepping back to head down the hall. He followed behind, leaning against the doorframe once I got near my bed.

“When I say it like what?”

“We had sex you’re writing on my album.” I mimicked his accent and his tone and sat on the oversized bed. He let out a sigh, walked a few steps closer to me, and then stopped. “Don’t sigh at me,” I told him.

“I’m sighing about you, I’m not sighing at you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re,” he cut himself off and looked all around the room, anywhere but at me. “Because you’re my best friend but I also want to rip your clothes off half the time.”

You’d think I’d find something about that offensive. Or you’d think I’d tell him we couldn’t have sex again and that we couldn’t be best friends and that none of this should be happening.

Instead, I let him rip my clothes off.

#come sunday #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles story #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles jamaica fic #harry styles blurb

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sophiainspace · 6 years

Text

The Centre Cannot Hold

Oh, and also I wrote a thing...

Legends of Tomorrow fic. My first full-length story in a very long time. (*wibble*)

This happened because I got angry about people not writing autistic-coded characters as overtly autistic. And if you want a thing done, do it yourself. (My thinking went in the direction of one of the more difficult autistic experiences, this time, which I hope no one minds too much.)

Summary: Ray sometimes wishes he could be… different. The team don’t see things that way. A Ray Palmer character study. (1746 words.) Rating: G Content warning: Autistic shutdown.

Thanks so much to @latebarryallen and @airyalmost for beta reading!

Read at AO3

Ray loves fixing things.

He loves working through a problem until it has a solution. Starting with a broken piece, and shaping and reshaping, turning and turning. Until it once again fits into a functioning machine, efficient and beautiful.

Making things make sense.

- - -

Ray is in his lab by 7 that morning. He’s just thinking about going to look for coffee or breakfast when Jax arrives.

“Hey, Jax,” he says, looking up from where he’s sitting at his workstation. “And what do you have for me this fine morning?”

“Vortex manipulator refusing to work,” Jax says, handing it over. “This thing is so vital to the time drive that it shouldn’t even be outside the engine room, but it’s a bit more of the electronics than I usually go in for. Tell me it makes some sense to you? ‘Cause we can’t jump without it, and I’m pretty sure Sara’s going to remove all my teeth one by one if we have to delay this mission any more.”

“Ouch,” Ray replies, but Jax is already starting to sound distant. Ray is turning, turning the little beeping-flashing piece of machinery in his hands. It’s an electronic cog made to fit futuristic clockwork. It’s perfect and mysterious and it nearly, but not quite, makes sense. “Yeah, I think I’ve got this,” he says slowly.

Jax adds something about what time he needs it by, and he’s gone.

“Sure, Jax,” Ray replies to the empty room.

- - -

The time drive component turns out to be a challenge. An exciting one, but still. Ray hasn’t put down his tools all morning.

It’s just when he’s sunk deepest into his process that the noise starts up.

He ignores it. “OK, little dude, we are almost there. Now let’s see what you do if I do this…”

The noise comes back into focus. Most of the team seems to be out in the corridor, arguing about something, voices rising fast towards yelling pitch. He feels his face twist and reaches for his noise-cancelling headphones. The noise dulls to a murmur, and he moves his focus back to his workbench.

A few minutes later, he becomes vaguely aware of exasperation at the door. He takes the headphones off. “Ray,” Sara says. “We need to leave. Jax is making noises about you not being finished yet with something he needs?”

He forces his eyes away from the component on the workbench, and up at her. “Sorry, Sara. I’m almost there. Ten minutes.”

“Five minutes! Or your bones can rattle around the lab while we jump,” she calls back from the corridor.

“Not without that time drive part, they can’t,” Jax shouts after her, replacing her in the doorway. “Where is it, Ray? I’ve got a ship to jump out of here.”

He glances up. “Sorry, Jax - it’s coming. Just a few minutes. I just have to set the clock here and close the…“ He trails off.

“OK. Thanks.” Jax leans against the door frame, tapping out an anxious rhythm against the metal wall.

Ray feels himself tense up. He keeps working, though, carefully turning tiny screws into the casing. This can’t be rushed. He just needs a little longer.

Jax keeps tapping.

The noise starts to drum in Ray’s head.

“Ray?”

“Yes, it’s coming!” he barks. He looks up at a surprised Jax and forces a smile. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean that. Nearly there.”

Sara’s head appears around the door again. “Ray, I swear to God. We need to leave—”

Jax pushes off the wall. “Good luck going anywhere before he’s finished with the time drive, Sara. Unless maybe you want to fly around the temporal zone in little circles like a—”

Ray tries to tune them out. He can’t understand why the screws aren’t going into place, until he realises his hands are shaking. The guys are still going at it.

“—fuck’s sake. Could you not have got him to sort this out an hour ago?”

“Hey! I told you we might need till the afternoon. You just went on about the urgency of the situation.”

“Which apparently you paid no—”

And just like that, everything stops making sense.

Ray drops the screwdriver. It lands with a ding, the shock sounding out across the lab.

The next thing he knows, he’s curled up on the floor.

He’s vaguely aware of some commotion above him. Then Zari’s voice, distant and echoey, and when did she get here? “Everyone out. Give him a minute.”

Then it’s quiet, and he almost sobs with relief.

And Zari’s crouching next to him on the floor.

Shit.

He hasn’t had one of these in a while, he thinks, indistinctly. He can feel himself breathing, hard but shallow. He thinks maybe he’s shaking.

Fantastic timing, Ray, part of him thinks. The rest of him doesn’t care.

- - -

Zari sits with him on the floor of the lab, for an hour. This is a bit unexpected.

She brings them tea but he doesn’t drink his. He just wraps his hands around the mug, tapping out repeating sequences against the handle.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks at some point.

“No,” he says, after a moment.

She’s quiet for a while. Then she says, “My brother was like you.”

Ray listens.

“I mean — not that much like you.” She’s drawing patterns on the floor. “Less focused, more… chaotic. He had these meltdowns sometimes. It could get pretty scary.” She pauses. “I think it was scarier for him though.”

He takes a long breath in. “It gets a bit much, now and then.”

“Yeah?” she says. Carefully. Like he’s broken.

“Yeah. Sometimes too many things build up and I shut down.” He looks at his hands, eyes wide. “It’s like… my CPU overloads.”

She hums. “I’m sorry if we all got a bit loud. Well, I’m sorry if I did. The other assholes can apologise for themselves.”

“It’s fine,” he says, trying to mean it.

Zari raises an eyebrow cynically.

He makes a little amused noise. “Fine, it’s not fine. But it’s not their fault. I’m not good at explaining it. They don’t — they don’t all know.”

“Hmm. Your younger self seemed happy to tell me.”

“That was then,” he shrugs. He’s staring at the ceiling. “Mom wasn’t keen on how often I told people. She said they’d think less of me. I mostly stopped, eventually.”

I just wish Ray would make normal friends, you know?

Zari sits back on her heels. “That’s an interesting thing to say about your kid.”

He snorts. “Yeah.”

“Still. You work pretty closely with this bunch of losers. And I know they care about you.” She drops the sincere tone and rolls her eyes. “They have many feelings.”

He grins a bit at that, then pauses. “I don’t want them to treat me like I’m…” He shrugs. Tries to keep his hands still. Turning, turning. “It’s hard sometimes,” he admits. “You know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

He looks at her, which he thinks is probably progress for the past hour. “I want to do better. I want to be better.”

She frowns. “Ray. You don’t need to change. You don’t have to be anyone but you.”

Huh.

“You don’t,” she repeats. “We like you the way you are. You got that, doofus?”

He smiles. “I’ll try. Thanks, Zari.” Then he remembers. “Oh! We were supposed to be leaving.” He moves to get up, and she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about that. I got them to wait. It’ll keep till later or tomorrow.”

“You made Sara abort a mission and she didn’t kill you? Is this a power that comes with your amulet, or…?”

“The captain just needs a little handling sometimes.” She winks.

“I’m not going to try to work out if that’s meant to be a double entendre. I tend to miss those.” He gestures at himself and grins. “You know. Autistic.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “You feel like braving the galley? I picked up some great hot chocolate when we were in 1998.”

“Thanks, but I still need to finish the time drive repairs. It’s nearly done.”

“Jax’ll wait.”

“Oh, it’s not that. I just don’t like to leave a job unfinished.”

She glares at him. “And how long since you last ate anything, hmm?”

“Oh. Um.”

“Right then.” She gets up, decisively. “I am bringing the hot chocolate to you. And lunch.”

He ponders. “I feel like someone’s going to complain about food in the lab, but I can’t think exactly who. And it might be Gideon. Who has automatic cleaning units. So. Sure!”

She smiles and offers him her hand.

He takes it.

- - -

It’s not until hours later that Ray goes to the bridge. (He hasn’t really been hiding. Not really.) He stops at the entrance to the study, which is currently holding half of the Waverider crew.

“It’s— no, look— oh just give it to me,” Mick grumbles, grabbing the nineteenth-century lamp out of Nate’s hand (he yelps). “The oil goes here, right?” He sits the lamp in front of him, filling it gently. As he does, he catches Ray’s eye. “Hey, Haircut, you’ll like this. You like old stuff, right?”

“Well, Nate’s more of the history guy,” he says, maybe just a bit too brightly. “But - OK!” He steps up to the study. Passing Jax, he hands him the formerly broken component. “One working vortex manipulator, Chief Engineer, sir.” It almost comes out as casually as he intended.

Jax smiles. “Thanks, Ray.”

Sara gets up to get a drink, and bumps his shoulder as she does. “You. Me. Very supportive, very captain-like conversation. Later,” she whispers. “After at least—“ she inspects her glass “—a couple more drinks.”

“OK,” he laughs.

From the other side of the room, Zari grins at him, a cupcake halfway to her mouth. She looks at it. “Oh. Not gluten free. Sorry! But don’t worry, I’ll eat yours.”

��I appreciate that! I think.” He settles back in a chair, half-listening to laughter and snide comments against the background of a rapidly devolving discussion on antique fire safety.

Some things can’t be made to fit together like cogs in a machine, he thinks, a little sadly. Some things can’t be fixed. But as he looks around the strange group, misfits and Legends and friends, he wonders whether they need to be.

Against the bright glimmer of the timestream, the ship is turning, turning, and journeying on.

#legends of tomorrow #fanfic #ray palmer #autistic character #zari tomaz #jax jackson #sara lance #the legends aren't having the best day but they don't mean it #food cw #autistic shutdown cw #my fic

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kpopreactionstoruinyourlife · 7 years

Text

Song Girl - Part 17 - Sungjin Fan Fiction

Song Girl Masterlist

Part 17 - August 2014

Summary: one of those nights with friends where you fail at badminton.

The heatwave had broken, so almost everyone had gotten together that night to enjoy it. Ella, Amanda, and Brian were going back to school in just two weeks and the city had been too hot for any of them to do much more than stay in glorious air conditioning.

“So I say that we have to play Badminton.” Jae said, hoisting the bag of shuttlecocks and rackets higher on his shoulder. He spent their first two minutes of the walk to the park getting shit for bringing it.

Brian rolled his eyes, not making another comment because he was eating the street food he’d just gotten with Wonpil.

“Just don’t let El have a baseball. I had a bruise of the laces for two weeks the last time I tried it with her.” Amanda said poking Ella.

“I’m still getting over who you never said anything to me about baseball in the year I’ve known you when you’re actually into baseball.” Sungjin said, gently tugging her hair while she rolled her eyes.

“My dad keeps updating me - it looks like the Nats might make it to the playoffs.” Ella said, unable to keep a big grin off her face.

“Your babies!” Amanda teased.

“Who cares?” Jae said as they reached an open badminton court.

“Rude.” Ella said bluntly, sticking her tongue out at him. Jae didn’t care as he focused on getting the Badminton gear out.

“Are we doing teams?” Sungjin asked, his arm draped over Ella’s shoulder.

“Yep, you and me captains and I choose first.” Jae said handing a racket to Sungjin.

“You’re up to something.” Brian said tossing the wrapping off his food.

“Yep,” Jae said handing Sungjin three rackets. “Ella, you’re with me.”

Sungjin tried to keep his displeased expression off his face.

“I’ll go easy on you.” She said with a smile, kissing his cheek while she passed him.

“Right, somehow, I’m not convinced you’ll be too much of a challenge. I know your weaknesses.” He whispered bopping her nose to make her laugh.

“You’re on.”

“I wouldn’t make that bet. Badminton and baseball were the only sports she was any good at in PE.” Amanda said.

“Wonpil.” Sungjin said and the other boy approached with a smile taking his own racket. Brian had wondered off to get a drink.

“Amanda,” Jae said and she nodded, moving over to be with Ella.

“Brian, you ready?” Sungjin said handing him the last racket.

“Yep,” He said with a big smile. They were all happy to be outside and letting loose a bit.

“I won’t go easy on you,” Sungjin said to El from over the net. She got an evil smile.

“Don’t distract my player!” Jae said waving his racket between their faces.

Sungjin was not prepared for the events that were about to transpire.

By the time the three games were over, everyone was ready to take a break to get something to drink and rest. And Sungjin was ready to forget just how devilishly elated El looked when she surprised him with her badminton skills.

“Why am I still finding things out about you after all this time?” Sungjin said while they stood in line at a bubble tea place.

“People are very complicated.” Ella said, using a napkin to pat away some of her sweat.

“Am I not supposed to know you better than anyone?” He asked, half teasing.

Amanda snorted. “You’ll never know her like I do. We are the real power couple.” She finished with wrapping her arms around Ella’s shoulders, the two of them laughing.

“And I’m finding things out about you; for example, you are bad at badminton, and are finding it hard to believe that I am better than you.”

“Ok, but you say yourself that you don’t even run.” Sungjin said, just making her roll her eyes.

“Just because I don’t run does not mean I can’t run. Besides, there’s not that much running in badminton.”

“Dude, just accept we’re better than you. True blue.” Jae said before devolving into a rap until Brian flicked his arm.

“Does everyone have what they ordered?” Amanda asked while handing out the drinks.

Once they sorted that out, they headed back to the park. This time they didn’t move toward the sports areas but just picked a grassy area and spread out blankets before lounging down on them. Ella and Sungjin were on the first, Amanda and Jae the second, and Brian and Wonpil the third and Brian was lying back, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

“So where is Junhyeok tonight then?” Amanda asked, resting her arms on her knees.

“He had a date.” Sungjin said, accepting Ella’s silent invitation to rest his head on her thighs. She automatically started twisting her fingers in his hair.

“If he can get her to be his girlfriend, we’ll never hear the end of it.” Jae said after he made the required gagging sound at Ella and Sungjin.

“Oh yeah, he’d just gloat that he’s got someone and we don’t.” Wonpil said in a low voice. He was busying his hands in the grass.

“Surely you can find someone.” Amanda said and Jae snorted.

“I’m still struggling to read Korean.” Jae said.

“A Korean girlfriend is a good way to learn.” Brian said without opening his eyes.

Sungjin didn’t say it was probably a good thing they didn’t have girlfriends. If they were going to debut, they’d have to break up - it was best to minimize the number of casualties.

“Have you been secretly working to make my Korean better?” Ella whispered, curling his bangs around her finger. He smiled, reaching up to trace his finger over her nose.

“I could always understand your Korean.” He replied.

“So… how’s that research coming El?” Jae asked, pulling at the grass.

She froze for a moment, not wanting to say she likely had less than a year left in Seoul.

Her freezing didn’t escape Sungjin’s notice.

“It’s good. Only have a few more courses left. It’s nice not to be teaching right now.”

“Speak for yourself. Teaching English can be like pulling teeth.” Amanda groaned, flopping back on the blanket just as Sungjin sat up, sliding over over to sit next to Ella.

“It’s a bastard language.” Ella said bluntly, making Jae and Brian chuckle while Wonpil and Sungjin gave her a strange look. “You haven’t heard this rant either?” She asked Sungjin, who shook his head.

“Are you hiding all your ranting interests from me?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“It’s for your own good!” Amanda said loudly.

“This one is short. Basically English is a bastard son of Germanic with Nordic influences raised by the French with rules from Latin.”

For a moment, he was left to wonder how he’d found her. A girl who could rattle off stuff like that as if it was nothing. A girl who would turn to him just as he was looking at her, and smile, or make a silly face, or lean over to kiss him, or giggle when he leaned over to kiss her. A girl who listened to every lyric, every worry, or sit in silence if he didn’t have anything to say, fitting perfectly in the curves and nooks of his body. A girl with a brilliant mind, and passionate heart. A girl who was a little socially inept, blunt, and awkward. A girl who’d whisper ‘I love you,’ every night, or text it in the morning, or coo when he whispered it to her. A girl whose walls he watched slowly crumble. A girl who could think and talk far faster than him. A girl he was incredibly lucky to have.

“Good god, what is your brain?” Jae sighed, with Amanda agreeing.

“I listen to a lot of podcasts.” Ella said with a laugh.

“You must have that minimal brain plaque that Einstein had.” Amanda said, reaching over to tap Ella’s head.

“Wait, your brain gets plaque?” Jae said jumping up.

“Their more like a plaque-like film that builds up in the brain as you age, and when they studied Einstein’s brain, or maybe it was Edison, anyway, whoever’s brain, he didn’t have it and neurologists think that might be related to why he was able to be so prolific with research into his later life.” Ella said, speaking quickly.

“Can I borrow your mind for my classes?” Brian asked, propping himself up.

“Really, it’s just stuff like that, weird stuff, that sticks in my head. Please stop…” She trailed off, not knowing how to describe it. She didn’t like when people called that much attention to her mind. She’d spent more than a decade as the freaky smart girl. She’d rather that be behind her.

“So how does memory work?” Jae asked, addressing both Amanda and Ella.

“Depends,” Amanda answered lightly.

“There’s many theories and constructions; working memory, information processing, and attentional theory...There’s a lot of sides to it.” Ella finished.

“So exactly how complicated is the brain?” Wonpil asked.

“It’s either one cubic millimeter or one cubic centimeter, whichever one, within that space there are more neural connections than starts in the universe.” Ella said, moving her hands around.

“Shit, and that’s all this old thing can handle.” Jae said patting his head.

“And it’s getting late.” Sungjin said checking his phone.

“We do have training in the morning.” Brian said stretching and getting up.

“Did you enjoy your cat-nap?” Amanda asked and Brian chuckled, rolling his shoulders.

“I enjoy most naps.”

“NASA determined an ideal nap time is approximately twenty-six minutes, would should approximate half a REM cycle, and they believe the ideal temperature to sleep is approximately sixty-three degrees F.” Ella said as she and Sungjin stood.

“See? This is the kind of random conversations we should have been having when we met instead of ‘oh I can get your brain scanned.’” Sungjin said, ruffling her hair.

“But that makes such a good story!”

“No!” Jae said loudly. “That is not a good story.”

“What would be a good story?” Amanda asked as she helped to fold up the blankets.

“I don’t know, you hit him with a spit ball, he spilled coffee on you, something besides brain scans. Do you have much I worried about your ability to function socially after that?” Jae said looking at Ella with a desperate look.

“Hey! That’s offensive! I got you to be my friend, didn’t I?” Ella said, a pink coming into her cheeks.

“I think it’s fitting. At least for them.” Wonpil said, more quietly than Jae, but it was enough to saite Ella’s growing bruise to her ego.

“Every couple is weird.” Amanda said. “I got together with my last boyfriend after I hit him in the face playing badminton.”

“Ok, I am so glad that didn’t happen.” Jae said.

“And it wasn’t worth it to get that towel all bloodied - he was an asshole.” Amanda continued.

“I have no idea how you ended up with a misogynist.” Ella said, nodding with her.

“I repeat; Asshole.”

“How was he a misogynist?” Jae asked.

“He wanted me to do everything for him, all the ‘women’s work.’” Amanda said, her lingering frustration and annoyance with that guy evident in her voice and in her face.

“Plus, he always tried to shut her opinions down - maybe it was the whole obedient Asian girlfriend stereotype?” Ella said in a lower voice just to Amanda, who shrugged before nodding.

“And the benevolent sexism…” Amanda sighed before she shook her head. “Let’s not get into your rant on that.” She finished, taking her own turn to ruffle Ella’s hair.

“Oh my many raging feminist rants - secret ingredient: wine.” Ella sighed wistfully.

“Earth to El, Korean please?” Sungjin said, giving her hand a squeeze. Neither of them had even noticed they started speaking in English.

“It’s cool, they’re just have a feminist bonding moment.” Jae translated, patting Sungjin’s shoulder.

“And a moment to bond over previously dating assholes.” Ella finished.

“Ah,” Sungjin said nodding along, just accepting he might not be able to fully understand exactly what had transpired right in front of him.

“Anyway, this is where I will leave you. I’ll see y’all later.” Amanda said, bowing down toward one street after they exited the park.

“We’ll go with you, we’re heading down that way.” Jae said heading down with her, followed by Wonpil and Brian. “See you in the morning bro,” He added, saying bye to Sungjin before Wonpil and Brian said their own to the couple. Just before they headed in separate directions, Ella jogged over to hug Amanda goodbye before returning back to Sungjin.

“You seem particularly wired tonight.” Sungjin said after they weaved through a minor crowd without speaking. She laughed, sliding her hand into his.

“Nothing gets me fired up like feminist frustration.” She said squeezing his hand. “But I think it’s really that I’ve just been taking a break to re-focus back on stuff that I enjoy. That tends to give people energy.”

“So, in the interest of knowing more things that I apparently didn’t, are you politically involved?”

“Interesting way of phrasing of it, but yes. It is hard to be politically involved here but living so close to DC back home, it’s hard not to be. Very liberal, lived in a very liberal bubble, very feminist, very incapable of understanding certain aspects of conservatism.”

There was that word again. Home. But she wasn’t talking about Korea, or even him, she was talking about the United States. Somewhere thousands and thousands of miles away from Korea, away from him. A place like that, so far away, was admittedly the last place he wanted her to be calling home.

At the same time, he’d heard her use ‘home’ to refer to him, Seoul, Korea, her apartment, and the US as a whole, or even Nationals Park.

“And these are values that you want me to share?” He asked after a moment.

“I wouldn’t marry someone who didn’t share those values. But I wouldn’t be with you for months if I didn’t think you did, or at least mostly did. Feminism alone is deeply misunderstood and there might be a cultural element at play. I just want you to respect me and support my views and passions, even if you don’t actively hold them. I certainly don’t expect you to hold them in the same strength, passion, and firmness that I do.” She said, her brows knitting together as she spoke. “Does that make sense? I might be talking too much. I’m not a man-hating feminist, but I tend to have a certain distaste with men who hold that stereotype. I really am talking too much.”

“It makes sense. I think that’s fair. I don’t really have much of a politically active side.” He said and she chuckled.

“I pretty sure I only developed mine because I lived so close to DC.” She said just as they arrived to her apartment.

“I had something I wanted to ask you.” He said while they stopped in her mailroom.

“Shoot,” She said, flipping through envelops.

“Why did you tense up when Jae asked about your research?” He said in a low voice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but it had peaked his curiosity.

“Oh…” She said slowly, dragging out the word to formulate her response. “It’s just that...we’re about halfway done with everything…” She trailed off, hoping he could put the rest together without her having to say it.

Once the research was finished, the research team, including her, would pack and return to their university back in the United States.

She took a moment before she looked him in the eye again. When she did, he couldn’t help but notice the sad shadows coloring them.

“Glad to know I’m still the best at killing the mood.” He said with a hollow laugh. She gave a weak smile. He knew she’d only stay until her work was done; he wasn’t enough of a draw to make her stay - she would need more than just him and he was still hoping to debut. It’d be easy to avoid breaking the dating ban she was back in the US.

“I plan to come back, for my doctorate.” She said in a soft voice.

That would be enough hope for him. She always followed through with her plans.

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birdiethebibliophile · 7 years

Text

{fic} Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed (part 1)

Word Count: 1.8k Relationship: Lucien/Cassian Characters: Lucien, Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre Warnings: Depression, PTSD, also just a lot of regular Sadness

Here on AO3.

Summary: Modern AU with Martial Arts Instructor!Cassian and Sad Artist!Lucien. This ship needs more love.

Notes: I do not have direct experience with either PTSD or depression, so if I write something offensive/harmful, PLEASE tell me and I will take it down or change it right away! Thank you!

Shoutout to @squaddreamcourt for inspiring this with her work While We Spoke of Many Things and to @blogtealdeal for inspiring Photographer!Lucien with her lovely art.

__________________

The minute Cassian saw Lucien Kelly, he knew he was in deep shit.

“It’s the eye, isn’t it?”

Cassian blinked, suddenly aware that he’d been staring at the other man with an intensity that was bound to be noticed. “What?”

Lucien gestured to his face, to the vicious scar running in a vertical line across a glass eye with a striking golden iris. “I don’t blame you. It can be a bit distracting at first,” he said.

Don’t do it, Cassian thought.

Lucien smirked.

God dammit.

This was what he got for being a good friend. Feyre had been so persuasive – come on, Cassian, it’s just one night, Rhys and I haven’t been on a date in ages and I don’t like leaving him alone yet – like Lucien was their strange, ginger lovechild. Cassian hadn’t been able to say no.

It helped that he’d been only a few drops short of drunk off his ass. Her fault. She knew his weakness for good whiskey, and had invested in a bottle or two for just such an occasion.

By the time he was sober again, she cheerfully told him he’d already agreed to help out and both she and Rhys were sooooooo grateful, really, and that I’m sure you’ll enjoy each other’s company and that was that.

Cassian let the door swing shut behind him. “Have Feyre and Rhys left yet?” he asked.

“Only about five minutes ago.” Lucien fiddled with his phone. “There. They made me promise to send them a text once you got here.”

Cassian wondered idly whether Feyre had left the rest of that whiskey where he could get at it. He hoped so. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to make it through the evening without it. Why Feysand had chosen to leave for their date at four in the afternoon was beyond him. “Why can’t they leave you, anyways?” he asked abruptly. “You’re an adult.”

Lucien waved a hand. He was sprawled on the couch, long hair of a decidedly red hue haphazardly braided and flung over one shoulder. “Didn’t Feyre fill you in?” he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’m a danger to myself.”

Cassian’s eyes widened. “What, she thinks –”

Lucien cut him off. “Not what you’re thinking. She’s afraid I’m going to run back to Tamlin if she doesn’t keep half an eye on me at all times.”

Tamlin. Cassian knows that name, both personally and professionally: Feyre’s abusive ex, and the twenty-something CEO of the biggest pharmaceutical company this side of the Atlantic. “You used to be involved with Tamlin?”

Lucien’s laugh sounded hollow and ironic. “Oh, don’t I wish. No, not like that. I worked under him, talked to other CEOs, negotiated business deals.”

He paused, but Cassian didn’t say a word, just slung his duffel bag onto a kitchen chair. “I did live with him,” Lucien went on after a moment. “But that’s it.”

Cassian managed to hold back a sound of disbelief. As if any man, straight or otherwise, could just live with someone like Lucien. He’d seen Tamlin a time or two – handsome in that old money kind of way: gold hair and green eyes and a shoulder-to-hip ratio that would make comic book artists weep. Nothing special, though. Just another white guy with enough cash for hairstylists and personal trainers.

Lucien was different, with the scar and the fiery hair and the slim build. It would take an accomplished artist (had Feyre ever painted him?) to capture the way Lucien lay sprawled on the couch: one smooth line sweeping down the length of his body and bespeaking a kind of otherworldly elegance. Old blood, Cassian would call it, not old money. Lucien looked like he should be stuck in a tower, or drawing water from a stone well and finding a magical being that would give him three wishes. Or maybe he was the magical being in the well.

“And yet Feyre’s worried you’ll go back to him,” Cassian said, sitting backwards in the kitchen chair alongside the one on which he’d thrown his bag. “Why are you here in the first place?”

“Feyre took me with her when she…” Lucien hesitated for a long moment. “…left. For good.”

“Why?” Cassian asked again, well aware he was prying.

“Why do you think?” Abruptly, Lucien picked up his phone again. Cassian took the hint and left him alone.

It was some time before either of them spoke again. “You hungry?” Cassian asked Lucien. “Feyre told me to get takeout and charge Rhys’s account.”

Lucien shrugged. Over the past three hours, Cassian had noticed him growing more… listless. For the first two, he’d taken at least seventeen photos on his phone, read a few chapters of the paperback sitting on the coffee table, and listened to an album of some alt-rock band Cassian didn’t recognize. But once the third hit… Cassian had watched out of the corner of his eye, pretending to be taking notes on the Muay Thai video playing on his laptop. He’d watched when Lucien stared at the paperback for five minutes without turning a page, and when the other man dropped his phone on the floor and didn’t pick it up, and when he started rebraiding his hair but stopped halfway through.

“Well, I’m going to order Asian, I think,” Cassian said after another moment of silence. “Potstickers. Lo mein. Broccoli beef. The whole nine yards. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to spend Rhys’s money with impunity again?”

Lucien didn’t respond, besides a nod to show he’d heard him.

“Anything in particular you want me to order for you?” Cassian asked, and almost automatically, his voice dropped a few decibels to match Lucien’s silence.

Another shrug.

“Here.” Cassian picked up the take-out menu and walked to the couch. “I’m going to give you a couple choices, okay?” he told Lucien, making it clear by his tone and volume that the okay meant if that’s okay with you and not this is what’s going to happen now whether you like it or not. “And you pick one. The one that…” Cassian hesitated, thinking how to phrase this. “The one that sounds like you could eat it.”

After a moment, Lucien nodded, which caused the corners of Cassian’s mouth to tug up, if only slightly. “All right. You vegetarian or anything? You like spicy stuff?”

Lucien nodded, then shook his head.

“Vegetarian and not spicy. Got it. Looks like you still have some good options. How about…” Cassian studied the menu for a second. He had no idea what Lucien liked, apart from what he’d just communicated. “Okay, three choices.” He turned the menu around and showed it to Lucien. “Fried rice with vegetables, miso soup, or spring rolls?”

Lucien raised his hand and tapped on the miso soup. Then, after a moment, he tapped the spring rolls as well, and gave Cassian a small half-smile – the pale shadow of the smirk that made Cassian’s heart skip a beat earlier.

Cassian made up for it, grinning widely. “You got it. After all, Feysand owe you for leaving you with the likes of me.” He winked at Lucien, then headed back across the room to grab his phone and place the order.

“We’re not friends.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They’d stacked the takeout containers on the coffee table. Every one of them was empty. Lucien had taken one look at the ridiculous amount of food they’d ordered and told Cassian – in a voice that was quiet but there – that there was no way he’d eat all that. Cassian had bet him twenty bucks that he could. (Cassian won, of course.)

After dinner, Cassian had turned on the TV, flipping through channels at such a rate that Lucien reached over and snatched the remote. He’d turned on some sort of home improvement show and informed Cassian, in no uncertain terms, that he would get the remote back over his dead body – which, of course, Cassian had taken as a challenge. They’d had a brief fight that mostly involved tossing pillows across the room. It ended as suddenly as it had begun, when one of the pillows knocked one of Rhys’s endless knickknacks over with a crash and Lucien flinched. Cassian had pretended not to notice, but he slumped back into his chair with a huff and declared that it was too much work, and besides, the home improvement guys were using power tools and sledgehammers, so he supposed he could endure it for a little while longer.

“I mean it,” Lucien said sternly. “Not friends.”

“Whatever you say, Lucien darling,” Cassian said with a grin, borrowing Rhys’s nickname for Feyre.

Lucien scowled. “You’re entirely too big for that chair, by the way,” he said. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Or amazing?” Cassian knew full well he looked ridiculous. Feysand’s chairs were not meant for six-foot-five behemoths such as himself. Even Rhys – no lightweight himself – was half a head shorter than he was and had maybe a third of the muscle.

Lucien, on the other hand, fit in just fine. He was only a few inches shorter than Cassian, but half his size. “Ridiculous,” Lucien asserted, snapping a picture and tossing his phone to Cassian. “Take a look. You can’t deny it.”

Cassian caught the phone and turned it from side to side, pretending to examine the photo from all angles. “I’ll suspend judgement for now,” he said, tossing it back. “You into photography, then?”

“Used to be.” Lucien’s mouth tightened. “But, you know. It got so I didn’t have time. And then my camera broke…”

There’s an edge to his voice that told Cassian to leave it. “What do you do now?”

“Sit around – what did you call them? – Feysand’s place and be useless, mostly,” Lucien said sourly. “Take up space. Take time away from their jobs so they can drive me places.”

There was an awkward pause.

“I have a truck,” Cassian said.

Lucien groaned. “God, not you too. I don’t want your pity.”

“Good,” Cassian shot back. “Because you’re not getting it.” He sat up. “My studio holds weird hours, and it’s pretty close. Better than letting Rhys drive you around in that thing he calls a car.”

Lucien was silent for a moment. “It’d be an hour drive three times a week,” he finally said. “At the very least.”

“Shit, that’s nothing,” Cassian said with a grin. “Wanna bet that I can get Rhys to give me gas money?”

“I already lost one bet tonight.” Lucien stared at the ceiling as he thought. “Fine. For Feyre and Rhys. But this still doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Whatever you say.”

#mine #fic #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #lucien x cassian #lucien #cassian #feyre archeron #rhysand

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entergamingxp · 4 years

Text

Old School RuneScape and Shenmue • Eurogamer.net

Old School RuneScape

Matt: I have to admit, a good portion of my time allocated to this feature was spent signing up to RuneScape. It was frequently baffling – I somehow had an account already associated with Jagex which needed resetting several times, my usual handle (and my back up, and the back up to that) were already taken, and upon trying to buy membership, it wouldn’t let me type in any credit card details.

Downloading the game from the Old School RuneScape website really sets the tone straight away.

It was similar to the only other time I tried to play an MMO – an evening wasted trying to get my head around Square Enix’s account system to play Final Fantasy 14 in its infancy, forcing me to give up on what I hear is one of the best games in recent years – and a reminder of why I tend to stick to console games. There’s only so many captcha screens I can take!

Lottie: Back when I made my first RuneScape account – like a good fourteenish years ago – I’m pretty sure that it only required an unused username and a password. In fact, I don’t think I even attached my email address to that account until I signed up for membership a year later. I’m also honestly surprised you had such a time paying for your membership – you’d think Jagex would make taking your money an easy process.

Matt: You’d think so, right? However, once I was playing… I was pleasantly surprised! First, I absolutely love the way Old School RuneScape looks. I didn’t get into PC games until Half-Life, but it’s reminiscent of early PlayStation games, an era I’m more familiar with and tirelessly fond of – where everything was made of chunky, brightly coloured polygons, the world gradually clipping into view as you explore, and charming MIDI music blazing as you go.

Old School Runescape eases you into things surprisingly well.

It’s also impressively tutorialized, uncovering its menu options and associated systems one-by-one as you explore the opening island. I’ve already forgotten how to use an anvil, or how to bake some bread, but I misjudged RuneScape as something which drops you in the deep end without explaining how anything works.

I also enjoyed how the first thing you fight is a giant rat in a mine. This is an MMO all right!

Lottie: There’s a part of my brain that’s dedicated to pure RuneScape knowledge. I can write you a guide right now about how to smith a rune scimitar or how to brew a prayer potion.

I’ve always loved how so many of the skills in RuneScape are interconnected; you grow herbs using the farming skill, for example, and, thanks to herblore, use them to create potions, which can provide boosts to your hunting skill or help out in combat. There’s a real advantage to training every skill, which becomes more apparent the deeper you delve into the game.

Now that you’ve escaped Tutorial Island, how are your first real steps in Gielinor going?

True to form, you’ll fight… giant rats.

Matt: Okay, so now I’m actually playing and picking up quests, I’m starting to run up against the antiquity of it all. I’ve discovered it’s quite fiddly to get around, and my character’s stamina depletes very quickly, making exploration feel far more sluggish than I was expecting. Meanwhile, left clicking on things is unpredictable – will you converse? Will you pickpocket? Will you puncture that cow with your bronze sword instead of milking it? (I quickly discovered right clicking on things first is the way to go.)

Also, the combat is frightfully simple – you just click on a goblin (of which there are an alarming number of?) and you’ll automatically exchange blows until it dies, then repeat, occasionally pausing to eat something for health.

I ended up scrolling Twitter as I was chaining through a field of goblins, helping me get through the combat questline a little easier. At first this didn’t feel in the spirit of the game, but then I realised – that’s how MMOs are secretly supposed to work, right? It’s a thing you chip away at while doing / watching / listening to other things?

Goblins. Everywhere!

Lottie: I’ll admit that when I’m training a skill like woodcutting or mining, I usually do it while reading. Doing so has never felt like I’m betraying the game in some way, I’m still playing after all, I just don’t want to watch my adventurer chop trees for an hour. Grinding is an inevitable part of any MMO and, as long as you’re not using a bot, I don’t care how people get through it.

For me, the simplicity of the combat has always been part of the game’s charm. You can make it more complicated by using magic as your primary weapon or by training the slayer skill, which involves hunting down monsters that can only be killed using specific items, but I like how the melee combat is simplified, so that you can focus on buffing your abilities with potion or food.

(There’s also a really good questline that explores what’s happening with the goblins in the Lumbridge area.)

Matt: I’d love to find that, because there really are a lot of goblins. I was actually overjoyed when I saw a giant spider scuttling around, just for something else to fight.

I think where the game clicks for me is the non-combat stuff – I enjoyed the simplicity of milling wheat to help someone bake a cake, and digging up clues for a treasure hunt. It reminds me what I enjoy most about modern games-as-a-service stuff like Fortnite or Destiny – less the combat, but more completing challenges as an excuse to see the vast, beautiful world developers have created.

And, again, I love the look of Old School RuneScape – I might look up some YouTube videos later to see what other areas look like.

Working out Treasure Hunt clues was probably the highlight of the my brief time with Old School RuneScape.

I’m not sure whether I’ll come back to it – there are one too many rough edges with combat and controls for me, I think – but I enjoyed it more than I was expecting, enough so that it’s convinced me to finally start playing an MMO one day. Assuming they’re not all completely overrun by goblins.

Lottie: The graphics for Old School RuneScape have a special place in my heart as it manages to be both endearing and terrifying, sometimes on purpose, all at the same time! There are certainly some beautiful locations in the game, especially when you’re able to visit places like Prifddinas. I also promise that there are a lot of goblin free areas in Gielinor – you might want to avoid north of Falador though.

I do understand why you have mixed feelings about returning; MMOs require a higher time investment compared to other games, Old School RuneScape especially due to its age and, as you mentioned, certain little quirks. I’m glad, however, that you enjoy the non-combat skills, as they have always been my favourite aspect of the game. It’s really cool how, even if you completely ignore the combat system, the game still allows you to have a great time.

Now that you’ve tried Old School RuneScape, I think that it’s only fair you give RuneScape 3 a go too, just for comparison’s sake.

Matt: That’s not a bad idea. Though unless RuneScape 3 has the same incredibly cute ‘quack’ sound effect, I’m not sure it’ll ever live up to the original.

Lottie: Yes, the quack is the same!

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Shenmue

Lottie: Shenmue makes it very clear from the opening cutscene that it wants to tell a martial arts vengeance story; a mysterious stranger arrives to demand an equally mysterious artifact, a father is murdered in front of his son and revenge is sworn.

This was great for me, because I love a good revenge story, especially if it involves punching. When I began playing Shenmue, however, I realised that it doesn’t approach this story in the way you’d typically expect from a video game released in the late nineties. Instead of punching enemies in face, I was gathering clues by talking to Ryo’s neighbours and managing an allowance, which means spending it all on capsule toys.

Vengeance!

The game even used its genre to tease me; I dialled the number for the police, but Ryo refused to call them. He has to avenge his father himself after all.

Matt: First, I’m very pleased you tried to call the police! It’s one of many great Easter Eggs you can easily miss. The game rewards you for experimenting with the world around you in all sorts ways – and by Ryo reacting accordingly (i.e. being stubborn) helps establish his personality beyond a typical cutscene.

He will continue to establish his personality further through punching as you originally assumed, though, so stick with it!

Lottie: I hope so! I do like how, as you explore Ryo’s home, you can uncover little cutscenes that give more insight into his relationship with his father as well. As you said, scenes like those reward experimentation and helped me become invested in the story.

You can uncover a variety of hidden cutscenes by exploring Ryo’s home.

The more I played, the more I came to love how intricate the world of Shenmue is; the shops have different opening times, the streets grow busier throughout the day and each NPC has their routine, which means you have to learn when and where characters will be.

The game is as much about planning your day as it is revenge. Even when I found myself waiting for the local bars to open, the daily cycle continued to heighten the immersion of the game, rather than making me feel like I had hit a roadblock. It makes sense, in the story that Shenmue is telling, that Ryo’s journey begins with him patiently tracking down information and, while he waits, he can always waste some time in the Sega arcade.

You have to wait till 7pm to find this man.

Matt: Yeah – despite the heavy premise, Ryo is still a teenager, right? That’s exactly what he would do to kill time. Again, another way of establishing who Ryo is beyond a cutscene – people you talk to constantly remind he’s still in school, the cash you can spend is from pocket money, etc etc. This is also the point where the game doubles down on the time aspect which can leave many players frustrated – forcing you to wait hours or sometimes a full day in-game for the next event to happen – but it sounds like you’re fully on board?

Lottie: I am – I like games with well developed worlds, be it expressed through environmental storytelling, gradually revealing aspects of the lore or, in this case, applying aspects of reality, like the fact that most shops aren’t open 24 hours a day. What did break my immersion though were the quick time events.

For me, quick time events ruin the flow of the gameplay.

I’ve never liked quick time events, because, to me, their inclusion always feels forced; the flow of a game is brought to a standstill as you’re made to push a certain sequence of buttons, often until you’ve done it correctly.

In Shenmue, there’s always a chance that you might encounter a little side event, from a bike race to children playing football, and, like the daily cycle, these activities make the community feel more realistic. Unfortunately, a number of these hidden activities include quick time events and, of course, if you don’t do it correctly, then you have to do it again. It took me four attempts to correctly complete one such event.

Ten minutes later I discovered that the main storyline also included quick time events.

Matt: Fun fact – Shenmue was the first to feature (or at least popularise) Quick Time Events, so you’re seeing the birth of something which plagued every action adventure game for the next decade.

There are some brilliant chase sequences which use them effectively later in the game, but as you say, means you’re now on alert every time a cutscene plays out. There’s even a couple of arcade cabinets which are QTE simulators, if you need to kill some time and test your reflexes. I’ve played them so much the sound effect is forever seared into my brain.

Oh look – another quick time event…

Lottie: For me, it’s the quick time events that are really preventing me from deciding whether or not I’m going to continue playing Shenmue. The story certainly seems to be picking up pace and I would like to see what other early open world aspects this game has, but the knowledge that there’s even more quick time events to come is really off putting. I’ve had this happen with other games before when there’s an aspect of the gameplay I don’t like, such as the tests of strength in Breath of the Wild. I find myself unable to dislodge the thought of these features from my mind and, rather than simply enjoying the game for its own sake, I spend my time worrying about when I’ll have to deal with this feature once again.

Matt: The last third of the game certainly gets more punchy – and has one of the most infamous mini-games of all time, so if you can make it a little further, I would say your spirits will be… lifted.

Ultimately, I think Shenmue is a game which suffers from playing excessively in short periods, so come back to it and progress through the story whenever the mood takes you. Or not – Shenmue is a game, 20 years on, I still load up from time-to-time just to spend time in, usually waiting for the jazz bars to open by practicing martial arts or trying my hand at the Tomato Convenience Store raffle to pass the time. Either way, take your time and savour it if you do return – there’s no rush, despite how eager Ryo seems to get!

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from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/05/old-school-runescape-and-shenmue-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=old-school-runescape-and-shenmue-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

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